OR TRUEDIRECTIONS CONCERNING THE INTERPRETATION OF NATURE
1620
AUTHOR'S PREFACE
Those who have taken upon them to lay down the law of nature as a thingalready searched out and understood, whether they have spoken in simpleassurance or professional affectation, have therein done philosophy and thesciences great injury. For as they have been successful in inducing belief, sothey have been effective in quenching and stopping inquiry; and have done moreharm by spoiling and putting an end to other men's efforts than good by theirown. Those on the other hand who have taken a contrary course, and assertedthat absolutely nothing can be known — whether it were from hatred of theancient sophists, or from uncertainty and fluctuation of mind, or even from akind of fullness of learning, that they fell upon this opinion — havecertainly advanced reasons for it that are not to be despised; but yet theyhave neither started from true principles nor rested in the just conclusion,zeal and affectation having carried them much too far. The more ancient of theGreeks (whose writings are lost) took up with better judgment a positionbetween these two extremes — between the presumption of pronouncing oneverything, and the despair of comprehending anything; and though frequentlyand bitterly complaining of the difficulty of inquiry and the obscurity ofthings, and like impatient horses champing at the bit, they did not the lessfollow up their object and engage with nature, thinking (it seems) that thisvery question — viz., whether or not anything can be known — was tobe settled not by arguing, but by trying. And yet they too, trusting entirelyto the force of their understanding, applied no rule, but made everything turnupon hard thinking and perpetual working and exercise of the mind.
Now my method, though hard to practice, is easy to explain; and it isthis. I propose to establish progressive stages of certainty. The evidence ofthe sense, helped and guarded by a certain process of correction, I retain. Butthe mental operation which follows the act of sense I for the most part reject;and instead of it I open and lay out a new and certain path for the mind toproceed in, starting directly from the simple sensuous perception. Thenecessity of this was felt, no doubt, by those who attributed so muchimportance to logic, showing thereby that they were in search of helps for theunderstanding, and had no confidence in the native and spontaneous process ofthe mind. But this remedy comes too late to do any good, when the mind isalready, through the daily intercourse and conversation of life, occupied withunsound doctrines and beset on all sides by vain imaginations. And thereforethat art of logic, coming (as I said) too late to the rescue, and no way ableto set matters right again, has had the effect of fixing errors rather thandisclosing truth. There remains but one course for the recovery of a sound andhealthy condition — namely, that the entire work of the understanding becommenced afresh, and the mind itself be from the very outset not left to takeits own course, but guided at every step; and the business be done as if bymachinery. Certainly if in things mechanical men had set to work with theirnaked hands, without help or force of instruments, just as in thingsintellectual they have set to work with little else than the naked forces ofthe understanding, very small would the matters have been which, even withtheir best efforts applied in conjunction, they could have attempted oraccomplished. Now (to pause a while upon this example and look in it as in aglass) let us suppose that some vast obelisk were (for the decoration of atriumph or some such magnificence) to be removed from its place, and that menshould set to work upon it with their naked hands, would not any soberspectator think them mad? And if they should then send for more people,thinking that in that way they might manage it, would he not think them all themadder? And if they then proceeded to make a selection, putting away the weakerhands, and using only the strong and vigorous, would he not think them madderthan ever? And if lastly, not content with this, they resolved to call in aidthe art of athletics, and required all their men to come with hands, arms, andsinews well anointed and medicated according to the rules of the art, would henot cry out that they were only taking pains to show a kind of method anddiscretion in their madness? Yet just so it is that men proceed in mattersintellectual — with just the same kind of mad effort and uselesscombination of forces — when they hope great things either from the numberand cooperation or from the excellency and acuteness of individual wits; yea,and when they endeavor by logic (which may be considered as a kind of athleticart) to strengthen the sinews of the understanding, and yet with all this studyand endeavor it is apparent to any true judgment that they are but applying thenaked intellect all the time; whereas in every great work to be done by thehand of man it is manifestly impossible, without instruments and machinery,either for the strength of each to be exerted or the strength of all to beunited.
Upon these premises two things occur to me of which, that they may notbe overlooked, I would have men reminded. First, it falls out fortunately as Ithink for the allaying of contradictions and heartburnings, that the honor andreverence due to the ancients remains untouched and undiminished, while I maycarry out my designs and at the same time reap the fruit of my modesty. For ifI should profess that I, going the same road as the ancients, have somethingbetter to produce, there must needs have been some comparison or rivalrybetween us (not to be avoided by any art of words) in respect of excellency orability of wit; and though in this there would be nothing unlawful or new (forif there be anything misapprehended by them, or falsely laid down, why may notI, using a liberty common to all, take exception to it?) yet the contest,however just and allowable, would have been an unequal one perhaps, in respectof the measure of my own powers. As it is, however (my object being to open anew way for the understanding, a way by them untried and unknown), the case isaltered: party zeal and emulation are at an end, and I appear merely as a guideto point out the road — an office of small authority, and depending moreupon a kind of luck than upon any ability or excellency. And thus much relatesto the persons only. The other point of which I would have men reminded relatesto the matter itself.
Be it remembered then that I am far from wishing to interfere with thephilosophy which now flourishes, or with any other philosophy more correct andcomplete than this which has been or may hereafter be propounded. For I do notobject to the use of this received philosophy, or others like it, for supplyingmatter for disputations or ornaments for discourse — for the professor'slecture and for the business of life. Nay, more, I declare openly that forthese uses the philosophy which I bring forward will not be much available. Itdoes not lie in the way. It cannot be caught up in passage. It does not flatterthe understanding by conformity with preconceived notions. Nor will it comedown to the apprehension of the vulgar except by its utility and effects.
Let there be therefore (and may it be for the benefit of both) twostreams and two dispensations of knowledge, and in like manner two tribes orkindreds of students in philosophy — tribes not hostile or alien to eachother, but bound together by mutual services; let there in short be one methodfor the cultivation, another for the invention, of knowledge.
And for those who prefer the former, either from hurry or fromconsiderations of business or for want of mental power to take in and embracethe other (which must needs be most men's case), I wish that they may succeedto their desire in what they are about, and obtain what they are pursuing. Butif there be any man who, not content to rest in and use the knowledge which hasalready been discovered, aspires to penetrate further; to overcome, not anadversary in argument, but nature in action; to seek, not pretty and probableconjectures, but certain and demonstrable knowledge — I invite all such tojoin themselves, as true sons of knowledge, with me, that passing by the outercourts of nature, which numbers have trodden, we may find a way at length intoher inner chambers. And to make my meaning clearer and to familiarize the thingby giving it a name, I have chosen to call one of these methods or waysAnticipation of the Mind, the otherInterpretation of Nature.
Moreover, I have one request to make. I have on my own part made it mycare and study that the things which I shall propound should not only be true,but should also be presented to men's minds, how strangely soever preoccupiedand obstructed, in a manner not harsh or unpleasant. It is but reasonable,however (especially in so great a restoration of learning and knowledge), thatI should claim of men one favor in return, which is this: if anyone would forman opinion or judgment either out of his own observation, or out of the crowdof authorities, or out of the forms of demonstration (which have now acquired asanction like that of judicial laws), concerning these speculations of mine,let him not hope that he can do it in passage or by the by; but let him examinethe thing thoroughly; let him make some little trial for himself of the waywhich I describe and lay out; let him familiarize his thoughts with thatsubtlety of nature to which experience bears witness; let him correct byseasonable patience and due delay the depraved and deep-rooted habits of hismind; and when all this is done and he has begun to be his own master, let him(if he will) use his own judgment.
APHORISMS
[BOOK ONE]
I
Man, being the servant and interpreter of Nature, can do and understandso much and so much only as he has observed in fact or in thought of the courseof nature. Beyond this he neither knows anything nor can do anything.
II
Neither the naked hand nor the understanding left to itself can effectmuch. It is by instruments and helps that the work is done, which are as muchwanted for the understanding as for the hand. And as the instruments of thehand either give motion or guide it, so the instruments of the mind supplyeither suggestions for the understanding or cautions.
III
Human knowledge and human power meet in one; for where the cause is notknown the effect cannot be produced. Nature to be commanded must be obeyed; andthat which in contemplation is as the cause is in operation as the rule.
IV
Toward the effecting of works, all that man can do is to put together orput asunder natural bodies. The rest is done by nature working within.
V
The study of nature with a view to works is engaged in by the mechanic,the mathematician, the physician, the alchemist, and the magician; but by all(as things now are) with slight endeavor and scanty success.
VI
It would be an unsound fancy and self-contradictory to expect thatthings which have never yet been done can be done except by means which havenever yet been tried.
VII
The productions of the mind and hand seem very numerous in books andmanufactures. But all this variety lies in an exquisite subtlety andderivations from a few things already known, not in the number of axioms.
VIII
Moreover, the works already known are due to chance and experimentrather than to sciences; for the sciences we now possess are merely systems forthe nice ordering and setting forth of things already invented, not methods ofinvention or directions for new works.
IX
The cause and root of nearly all evils in the sciences is this —that while we falsely admire and extol the powers of the human mind we neglectto seek for its true helps.
X
The subtlety of nature is greater many times over than the subtlety ofthe senses and understanding; so that all those specious meditations,speculations, and glosses in which men indulge are quite from the purpose, onlythere is no one by to observe it.
XI
As the sciences which we now have do not help us in finding out newworks, so neither does the logic which we now have help us in finding out newsciences.
XII
The logic now in use serves rather to fix and give stability to theerrors which have their foundation in commonly received notions than to helpthe search after truth. So it does more harm than good.
XIII
The syllogism is not applied to the first principles of sciences, and isapplied in vain to intermediate axioms, being no match for the subtlety ofnature. It commands assent therefore to the proposition, but does not take holdof the thing.
XIV
The syllogism consists of propositions, propositions consist of words,words are symbols of notions. Therefore if the notions themselves (which is theroot of the matter) are confused and overhastily abstracted from the facts,there can be no firmness in the superstructure. Our only hope therefore lies ina true induction.
XV
There is no soundness in our notions, whether logical or physical.Substance, Quality, Action, Passion, Essence itself, are not sound notions;much less are Heavy, Light, Dense, Rare, Moist, Dry, Generation, Corruption,Attraction, Repulsion, Element, Matter, Form, and the like; but all arefantastical and ill defined.
XVI
Our notions of less general species, as Man, Dog, Dove, and of theimmediate perceptions of the sense, as Hot, Cold, Black, White, do notmaterially mislead us; yet even these are sometimes confused by the flux andalteration of matter and the mixing of one thing with another. All the otherswhich men have hitherto adopted are but wanderings, not being abstracted andformed from things by proper methods.
XVII
Nor is there less of willfulness and wandering in the construction ofaxioms than in the formation of notions, not excepting even those veryprinciples which are obtained by common induction; but much more in the axiomsand lower propositions educed by the syllogism.
XVIII
The discoveries which have hitherto been made in the sciences are suchas lie close to vulgar notions, scarcely beneath the surface. In order topenetrate into the inner and further recesses of nature, it is necessary thatboth notions and axioms be derived from things by a more sure and guarded way,and that a method of intellectual operation be introduced altogether better andmore certain.
XIX
There are and can be only two ways of searching into and discoveringtruth. The one flies from the senses and particulars to the most generalaxioms, and from these principles, the truth of which it takes for settled andimmovable, proceeds to judgment and to the discovery of middle axioms. And thisway is now in fashion. The other derives axioms from the senses andparticulars, rising by a gradual and unbroken ascent, so that it arrives at themost general axioms last of all. This is the true way, but as yet untried.
XX
The understanding left to itself takes the same course (namely, theformer) which it takes in accordance with logical order. For the mind longs tospring up to positions of higher generality, that it may find rest there, andso after a little while wearies of experiment. But this evil is increased bylogic, because of the order and solemnity of its disputations.
XXI
The understanding left to itself, in a sober, patient, and grave mind,especially if it be not hindered by received doctrines, tries a little thatother way, which is the right one, but with little progress, since theunderstanding, unless directed and assisted, is a thing unequal, and quiteunfit to contend with the obscurity of things.
XXII
Both ways set out from the senses and particulars, and rest in thehighest generalities; but the difference between them is infinite. For the onejust glances at experiment and particulars in passing, the other dwells dulyand orderly among them.
The one, again, begins at once by establishing certain abstract anduseless generalities, the other rises by gradual steps to that which is priorand better known in the order of nature.
XXIII
There is a great difference between the Idols of the human mind and theIdeas of the divine. That is to say, between certain empty dogmas, and the truesignatures and marks set upon the works of creation as they are found innature.
XXIV
It cannot be that axioms established by argumentation should avail forthe discovery of new works, since the subtlety of nature is greater many timesover than the subtlety of argument. But axioms duly and orderly formed fromparticulars easily discover the way to new particulars, and thus rendersciences active.
XXV
The axioms now in use, having been suggested by a scanty and manipularexperience and a few particulars of most general occurrence, are made for themost part just large enough to fit and take these in; and therefore it is nowonder if they do not lead to new particulars. And if some opposite instance,not observed or not known before, chance to come in the way, the axiom isrescued and preserved by some frivolous distinction; whereas the truer coursewould be to correct the axiom itself.
XXVI
The conclusions of human reason as ordinarily applied in matters ofnature, I call for the sake of distinctionAnticipations of Nature (as athing rash or premature). That reason which is elicited from facts by a justand methodical process, I callInterpretation of Nature.
XXVII
Anticipations are a ground sufficiently firm for consent, for even ifmen went mad all after the same fashion, they might agree one with another wellenough.
XXVIII
For the winning of assent, indeed, anticipations are far more powerfulthan interpretations, because being collected from a few instances, and thosefor the most part of familiar occurrence, they straightway touch theunderstanding and fill the imagination; whereas interpretations, on the otherhand, being gathered here and there from very various and widely dispersedfacts, cannot suddenly strike the understanding; and therefore they must needs,in respect of the opinions of the time, seem harsh and out of tune, much as themysteries of faith do.
XXIX
In sciences founded on opinions and dogmas, the use of anticipations andlogic is good; for in them the object is to command assent to the proposition,not to master the thing.
XXX
Though all the wits of all the ages should meet together and combine andtransmit their labors, yet will no great progress ever be made in science bymeans of anticipations; because radical errors in the first concoction of themind are not to be cured by the excellence of functions and subsequentremedies.
XXXI
It is idle to expect any great advancement in science from thesuperinducing and engrafting of new things upon old. We must begin anew fromthe very foundations, unless we would revolve forever in a circle with mean andcontemptible progress.
XXXII
The honor of the ancient authors, and indeed of all, remains untouched,since the comparison I challenge is not of wits or faculties, but of ways andmethods, and the part I take upon myself is not that of a judge, but of aguide.
XXXIII
This must be plainly avowed: no judgment can be rightly formed either ofmy method or of the discoveries to which it leads, by means of anticipations(that is to say, of the reasoning which is now in use); since I cannot becalled on to abide by the sentence of a tribunal which is itself on trial.
XXXIV
Even to deliver and explain what I bring forward is no easy matter, forthings in themselves new will yet be apprehended with reference to what isold.
XXXV
It was said by Borgia of the expedition of the French into Italy, thatthey came with chalk in their hands to mark out their lodgings, not with armsto force their way in. I in like manner would have my doctrine enter quietlyinto the minds that are fit and capable of receiving it; for confutationscannot be employed when the difference is upon first principles and verynotions, and even upon forms of demonstration.
XXXVI
One method of delivery alone remains to us which is simply this: we mustlead men to the particulars themselves, and their series and order; while menon their side must force themselves for a while to lay their notions by andbegin to familiarize themselves with facts.
XXXVII
The doctrine of those who have denied that certainty could be attainedat all has some agreement with my way of proceeding at the first setting out;but they end in being infinitely separated and opposed. For the holders of thatdoctrine assert simply that nothing can be known. I also assert that not muchcan be known in nature by the way which is now in use. But then they go on todestroy the authority of the senses and understanding; whereas I proceed todevise and supply helps for the same.
XXXVIII
The idols and false notions which are now in possession of the humanunderstanding, and have taken deep root therein, not only so beset men's mindsthat truth can hardly find entrance, but even after entrance is obtained, theywill again in the very instauration of the sciences meet and trouble us, unlessmen being forewarned of the danger fortify themselves as far as may be againsttheir assaults.
XXXIX
There are four classes of Idols which beset men's minds. To these fordistinction's sake I have assigned names, calling the first classIdols ofthe Tribe; the second,Idols of the Cave; the third,Idols of theMarket Place; the fourth,Idols of the Theater.
XL
The formation of ideas and axioms by true induction is no doubt theproper remedy to be applied for the keeping off and clearing away of idols. Topoint them out, however, is of great use; for the doctrine of Idols is to theinterpretation of nature what the doctrine of the refutation of sophisms is tocommon logic.
XLI
The Idols of the Tribe have their foundation in human nature itself, andin the tribe or race of men. For it is a false assertion that the sense of manis the measure of things. On the contrary, all perceptions as well of the senseas of the mind are according to the measure of the individual and not accordingto the measure of the universe. And the human understanding is like a falsemirror, which, receiving rays irregularly, distorts and discolors the nature ofthings by mingling its own nature with it.
XLII
The Idols of the Cave are the idols of the individual man. For everyone(besides the errors common to human nature in general) has a cave or den of hisown, which refracts and discolors the light of nature, owing either to his ownproper and peculiar nature; or to his education and conversation with others;or to the reading of books, and the authority of those whom he esteems andadmires; or to the differences of impressions, accordingly as they take placein a mind preoccupied and predisposed or in a mind indifferent and settled; orthe like. So that the spirit of man (according as it is meted out to differentindividuals) is in fact a thing variable and full of perturbation, and governedas it were by chance. Whence it was well observed by Heraclitus that men lookfor sciences in their own lesser worlds, and not in the greater or commonworld.
XLIII
There are also Idols formed by the intercourse and association of menwith each other, which I call Idols of the Market Place, on account of thecommerce and consort of men there. For it is by discourse that men associate,and words are imposed according to the apprehension of the vulgar. Andtherefore the ill and unfit choice of words wonderfully obstructs theunderstanding. Nor do the definitions or explanations wherewith in some thingslearned men are wont to guard and defend themselves, by any means set thematter right. But words plainly force and overrule the understanding, and throwall into confusion, and lead men away into numberless empty controversies andidle fancies.
XLIV
Lastly, there are Idols which have immigrated into men's minds from thevarious dogmas of philosophies, and also from wrong laws of demonstration.These I call Idols of the Theater, because in my judgment all the receivedsystems are but so many stage plays, representing worlds of their own creationafter an unreal and scenic fashion. Nor is it only of the systems now in vogue,or only of the ancient sects and philosophies, that I speak; for many moreplays of the same kind may yet be composed and in like artificial manner setforth; seeing that errors the most widely different have nevertheless causesfor the most part alike. Neither again do I mean this only of entire systems,but also of many principles and axioms in science, which by tradition,credulity, and negligence have come to be received.
But of these several kinds of Idols I must speak more largely andexactly, that the understanding may be duly cautioned.
XLV
The human understanding is of its own nature prone to suppose theexistence of more order and regularity in the world than it finds. And thoughthere be many things in nature which are singular and unmatched, yet it devisesfor them parallels and conjugates and relatives which do not exist. Hence thefiction that all celestial bodies move in perfect circles, spirals and dragonsbeing (except in name) utterly rejected. Hence too the element of fire with itsorb is brought in, to make up the square with the other three which the senseperceives. Hence also the ratio of density of the so-called elements isarbitrarily fixed at ten to one. And so on of other dreams. And these fanciesaffect not dogmas only, but simple notions also.
XLVI
The human understanding when it has once adopted an opinion (either asbeing the received opinion or as being agreeable to itself) draws all thingselse to support and agree with it. And though there be a greater number andweight of instances to be found on the other side, yet these it either neglectsand despises, or else by some distinction sets aside and rejects, in order thatby this great and pernicious predetermination the authority of its formerconclusions may remain inviolate. And therefore it was a good answer that wasmade by one who, when they showed him hanging in a temple a picture of thosewho had paid their vows as having escaped shipwreck, and would have him saywhether he did not now acknowledge the power of the gods — "Aye," asked heagain, "but where are they painted that were drowned after their vows?" Andsuch is the way of all superstition, whether in astrology, dreams, omens,divine judgments, or the like; wherein men, having a delight in such vanities,mark the events where they are fulfilled, but where they fail, though thishappen much oftener, neglect and pass them by. But with far more subtlety doesthis mischief insinuate itself into philosophy and the sciences; in which thefirst conclusion colors and brings into conformity with itself all that comeafter, though far sounder and better. Besides, independently of that delightand vanity which I have described, it is the peculiar and perpetual error ofthe human intellect to be more moved and excited by affirmatives than bynegatives; whereas it ought properly to hold itself indifferently disposedtoward both alike. Indeed, in the establishment of any true axiom, the negativeinstance is the more forcible of the two.
XLVII
The human understanding is moved by those things most which strike andenter the mind simultaneously and suddenly, and so fill the imagination; andthen it feigns and supposes all other things to be somehow, though it cannotsee how, similar to those few things by which it is surrounded. But for thatgoing to and fro to remote and heterogeneous instances by which axioms aretried as in the fire, the intellect is altogether slow and unfit, unless it beforced thereto by severe laws and overruling authority.
XLVIII
The human understanding is unquiet; it cannot stop or rest, and stillpresses onward, but in vain. Therefore it is that we cannot conceive of any endor limit to the world, but always as of necessity it occurs to us that there issomething beyond. Neither, again, can it be conceived how eternity has floweddown to the present day, for that distinction which is commonly received ofinfinity in time past and in time to come can by no means hold; for it wouldthence follow that one infinity is greater than another, and that infinity iswasting away and tending to become finite. The like subtlety arises touchingthe infinite divisibility of lines, from the same inability of thought to stop.But this inability interferes more mischievously in the discovery of causes;for although the most general principles in nature ought to be held merelypositive, as they are discovered, and cannot with truth be referred to a cause,nevertheless the human understanding being unable to rest still seeks somethingprior in the order of nature. And then it is that in struggling toward thatwhich is further off it falls back upon that which is nearer at hand, namely,on final causes, which have relation clearly to the nature of man rather thanto the nature of the universe; and from this source have strangely defiledphilosophy. But he is no less an unskilled and shallow philosopher who seekscauses of that which is most general, than he who in things subordinate andsubaltern omits to do so.
XLIX
The human understanding is no dry light, but receives an infusion fromthe will and affections; whence proceed sciences which may be called "sciencesas one would." For what a man had rather were true he more readily believes.Therefore he rejects difficult things from impatience of research; soberthings, because they narrow hope; the deeper things of nature, fromsuperstition; the light of experience, from arrogance and pride, lest his mindshould seem to be occupied with things mean and transitory; things not commonlybelieved, out of deference to the opinion of the vulgar. Numberless, in short,are the ways, and sometimes imperceptible, in which the affections color andinfect the understanding.
L
But by far the greatest hindrance and aberration of the humanunderstanding proceeds from the dullness, incompetency, and deceptions of thesenses; in that things which strike the sense outweigh things which do notimmediately strike it, though they be more important. Hence it is thatspeculation commonly ceases where sight ceases; insomuch that of thingsinvisible there is little or no observation. Hence all the working of thespirits enclosed in tangible bodies lies hid and unobserved of men. So also allthe more subtle changes of form in the parts of coarser substances (which theycommonly call alteration, though it is in truth local motion throughexceedingly small spaces) is in like manner unobserved. And yet unless thesetwo things just mentioned be searched out and brought to light, nothing greatcan be achieved in nature, as far as the production of works is concerned. Soagain the essential nature of our common air, and of all bodies less dense thanair (which are very many), is almost unknown. For the sense by itself is athing infirm and erring; neither can instruments for enlarging or sharpeningthe senses do much; but all the truer kind of interpretation of nature iseffected by instances and experiments fit and apposite; wherein the sensedecides touching the experiment only, and the experiment touching the point innature and the thing itself.
LI
The human understanding is of its own nature prone to abstractions andgives a substance and reality to things which are fleeting. But to resolvenature into abstractions is less to our purpose than to dissect her into parts;as did the school of Democritus, which went further into nature than the rest.Matter rather than forms should be the object of our attention, itsconfigurations and changes of configuration, and simple action, and law ofaction or motion; for forms are figments of the human mind, unless you willcall those laws of action forms.
LII
Such then are the idols which I callIdols of the Tribe, andwhich take their rise either from the homogeneity of the substance of the humanspirit, or from its preoccupation, or from its narrowness, or from its restlessmotion, or from an infusion of the affections, or from the incompetency of thesenses, or from the mode of impression.
LIII
TheIdols of the Cave take their rise in the peculiarconstitution, mental or bodily, of each individual; and also in education,habit, and accident. Of this kind there is a great number and variety. But Iwill instance those the pointing out of which contains the most importantcaution, and which have most effect in disturbing the clearness of theunderstanding.
LIV
Men become attached to certain particular sciences and speculations,either because they fancy themselves the authors and inventors thereof, orbecause they have bestowed the greatest pains upon them and become mosthabituated to them. But men of this kind, if they betake themselves tophilosophy and contemplation of a general character, distort and color them inobedience to their former fancies; a thing especially to be noticed inAristotle, who made his natural philosophy a mere bond servant to his logic,thereby rendering it contentious and well-nigh useless. The race of chemists,again out of a few experiments of the furnace, have built up a fantasticphilosophy, framed with reference to a few things; and Gilbert also, after hehad employed himself most laboriously in the study and observation of theloadstone, proceeded at once to construct an entire system in accordance withhis favorite subject.
LV
There is one principal and as it were radical distinction betweendifferent minds, in respect of philosophy and the sciences, which is this: thatsome minds are stronger and apter to mark the differences of things, others tomark their resemblances. The steady and acute mind can fix its contemplationsand dwell and fasten on the subtlest distinctions; the lofty and discursivemind recognizes and puts together the finest and most general resemblances.Both kinds, however, easily err in excess, by catching the one at gradations,the other at shadows.
LVI
There are found some minds given to an extreme admiration of antiquity,others to an extreme love and appetite for novelty; but few so duly temperedthat they can hold the mean, neither carping at what has been well laid down bythe ancients, nor despising what is well introduced by the moderns. This,however, turns to the great injury of the sciences and philosophy, since theseaffectations of antiquity and novelty are the humors of partisans rather thanjudgments; and truth is to be sought for not in the felicity of any age, whichis an unstable thing, but in the light of nature and experience, which iseternal. These factions therefore must be abjured, and care must be taken thatthe intellect be not hurried by them into assent.
LVII
Contemplations of nature and of bodies in their simple form break up anddistract the understanding, while contemplations of nature and bodies in theircomposition and configuration overpower and dissolve the understanding, adistinction well seen in the school of Leucippus and Democritus as comparedwith the other philosophies. For that school is so busied with the particlesthat it hardly attends to the structure, while the others are so lost inadmiration of the structure that they do not penetrate to the simplicity ofnature. These kinds of contemplation should therefore be alternated and takenby turns, so that the understanding may be rendered at once penetrating andcomprehensive, and the inconveniences above mentioned, with the idols whichproceed from them, may be avoided.
LVIII
Let such then be our provision and contemplative prudence for keepingoff and dislodging theIdols of the Cave, which grow for the most parteither out of the predominance of a favorite subject, or out of an excessivetendency to compare or to distinguish, or out of partiality for particularages, or out of the largeness or minuteness of the objects contemplated. Andgenerally let every student of nature take this as a rule: that whatever hismind seizes and dwells upon with peculiar satisfaction is to be held insuspicion, and that so much the more care is to be taken in dealing with suchquestions to keep the understanding even and clear.
LIX
But theIdols of the Market Place are the most troublesome of all— idols which have crept into the understanding through the alliances ofwords and names. For men believe that their reason governs words; but it isalso true that words react on the understanding; and this it is that hasrendered philosophy and the sciences sophistical and inactive. Now words, beingcommonly framed and applied according to the capacity of the vulgar, followthose lines of division which are most obvious to the vulgar understanding. Andwhenever an understanding of greater acuteness or a more diligent observationwould alter those lines to suit the true divisions of nature, words stand inthe way and resist the change. Whence it comes to pass that the high and formaldiscussions of learned men end oftentimes in disputes about words and names;with which (according to the use and wisdom of the mathematicians) it would bemore prudent to begin, and so by means of definitions reduce them to order. Yeteven definitions cannot cure this evil in dealing with natural and materialthings, since the definitions themselves consist of words, and those wordsbeget others. So that it is necessary to recur to individual instances, andthose in due series and order, as I shall say presently when I come to themethod and scheme for the formation of notions and axioms.
LX
The idols imposed by words on the understanding are of two kinds. Theyare either names of things which do not exist (for as there are things leftunnamed through lack of observation, so likewise are there names which resultfrom fantastic suppositions and to which nothing in reality corresponds), orthey are names of things which exist, but yet confused and ill-defined, andhastily and irregularly derived from realities. Of the former kind are Fortune,the Prime Mover, Planetary Orbits, Element of Fire, and like fictions which owetheir origin to false and idle theories. And this class of idols is more easilyexpelled, because to get rid of them it is only necessary that all theoriesshould be steadily rejected and dismissed as obsolete.
But the other class, which springs out of a faulty and unskillfulabstraction, is intricate and deeply rooted. Let us take for example such aword ashumid and see how far the several things which the word is usedto signify agree with each other, and we shall find the wordhumid to benothing else than a mark loosely and confusedly applied to denote a variety ofactions which will not bear to be reduced to any constant meaning. For it bothsignifies that which easily spreads itself round any other body; and that whichin itself is indeterminate and cannot solidize; and that which readily yieldsin every direction; and that which easily divides and scatters itself; and thatwhich easily unites and collects itself; and that which readily flows and isput in motion; and that which readily clings to another body and wets it; andthat which is easily reduced to a liquid, or being solid easily melts.Accordingly, when you come to apply the word, if you take it in one sense,flame is humid; if in another, air is not humid; if in another, fine dust ishumid; if in another, glass is humid. So that it is easy to see that the notionis taken by abstraction only from water and common and ordinary liquids,without any due verification.
There are, however, in words certain degrees of distortion and error.One of the least faulty kinds is that of names of substances, especially oflowest species and well-deduced (for the notion ofchalk and ofmud is good, ofearth bad); a more faulty kind is that ofactions, asto generate, to corrupt, to alter; the most faulty is ofqualities (except such as are the immediate objects of the sense) asheavy,light, rare, dense, and the like. Yet in all these cases some notions areof necessity a little better than others, in proportion to the greater varietyof subjects that fall within the range of the human sense.
LXI
But theIdols of the Theater are not innate, nor do they stealinto the understanding secretly, but are plainly impressed and received intothe mind from the playbooks of philosophical systems and the perverted rules ofdemonstration. To attempt refutations in this case would be merely inconsistentwith what I have already said, for since we agree neither upon principles norupon demonstrations there is no place for argument. And this is so far well,inasmuch as it leaves the honor of the ancients untouched. For they are no wisedisparaged — the question between them and me being only as to the way.For as the saying is, the lame man who keeps the right road outstrips therunner who takes a wrong one. Nay, it is obvious that when a man runs the wrongway, the more active and swift he is, the further he will go astray.
But the course I propose for the discovery of sciences is such as leavesbut little to the acuteness and strength of wits, but places all wits andunderstandings nearly on a level. For as in the drawing of a straight line or aperfect circle, much depends on the steadiness and practice of the hand, if itbe done by aim of hand only, but if with the aid of rule or compass, little ornothing; so is it exactly with my plan. But though particular confutationswould be of no avail, yet touching the sects and general divisions of suchsystems I must say something; something also touching the external signs whichshow that they are unsound; and finally something touching the causes of suchgreat infelicity and of such lasting and general agreement in error; that sothe access to truth may be made less difficult, and the human understanding maythe more willingly submit to its purgation and dismiss its idols.
LXII
Idols of the Theater, or of Systems, are many, and there can be andperhaps will be yet many more. For were it not that now for many ages men'sminds have been busied with religion and theology; and were it not that civilgovernments, especially monarchies, have been averse to such novelties, even inmatters speculative; so that men labor therein to the peril and harming oftheir fortunes — not only unrewarded, but exposed also to contempt andenvy — doubtless there would have arisen many other philosophical sectslike those which in great variety flourished once among the Greeks. For as onthe phenomena of the heavens many hypotheses may be constructed, so likewise(and more also) many various dogmas may be set up and established on thephenomena of philosophy. And in the plays of this philosophical theater you mayobserve the same thing which is found in the theater of the poets, that storiesinvented for the stage are more compact and elegant, and more as one would wishthem to be, than true stories out of history.
In general, however, there is taken for the material of philosophyeither a great deal out of a few things, or a very little out of many things;so that on both sides philosophy is based on too narrow a foundation ofexperiment and natural history, and decides on the authority of too few cases.For the Rational School of philosophers snatches from experience a variety ofcommon instances, neither duly ascertained nor diligently examined and weighed,and leaves all the rest to meditation and agitation of wit.
There is also another class of philosophers who, having bestowed muchdiligent and careful labor on a few experiments, have thence made bold to educeand construct systems, wresting all other facts in a strange fashion toconformity therewith.
And there is yet a third class, consisting of those who out of faith andveneration mix their philosophy with theology and traditions; among whom thevanity of some has gone so far aside as to seek the origin of sciences amongspirits and genii. So that this parent stock of errors — this falsephilosophy — is of three kinds: the Sophistical, the Empirical, and theSuperstitious.
LXIII
The most conspicuous example of the first class was Aristotle, whocorrupted natural philosophy by his logic: fashioning the world out ofcategories; assigning to the human soul, the noblest of substances, a genusfrom words of the second intention; doing the business of density and rarity(which is to make bodies of greater or less dimensions, that is, occupy greateror less spaces), by the frigid distinction of act and power; asserting thatsingle bodies have each a single and proper motion, and that if theyparticipate in any other, then this results from an external cause; andimposing countless other arbitrary restrictions on the nature of things; beingalways more solicitous to provide an answer to the question and affirmsomething positive in words, than about the inner truth of things; a failingbest shown when his philosophy is compared with other systems of note among theGreeks. For thehomoeomera of Anaxagoras; the Atoms of Leucippus andDemocritus; the Heaven and Earth of Parmenides; the Strife and Friendship ofEmpedocles; Heraclitus' doctrine how bodies are resolved into the indifferentnature of fire, and remolded into solids, have all of them some taste of thenatural philosopher — some savor of the nature of things, and experience,and bodies; whereas in the physics of Aristotle you hear hardly anything butthe words of logic, which in his metaphysics also, under a more imposing name,and more forsooth as a realist than a nominalist, he has handled over again.Nor let any weight be given to the fact that in his books on animals and hisproblems, and other of his treatises, there is frequent dealing withexperiments. For he had come to his conclusion before; he did not consultexperience, as he should have done, for the purpose of framing his decisionsand axioms, but having first determined the question according to his will, hethen resorts to experience, and bending her into conformity with his placets,leads her about like a captive in a procession. So that even on this count heis more guilty than his modern followers, the schoolmen, who have abandonedexperience altogether.
LXIV
But the Empirical school of philosophy gives birth to dogmas moredeformed and monstrous than the Sophistical or Rational school. For it has itsfoundations not in the light of common notions (which though it be a faint andsuperficial light, is yet in a manner universal, and has reference to manythings), but in the narrowness and darkness of a few experiments. To thosetherefore who are daily busied with these experiments and have infected theirimagination with them, such a philosophy seems probable and all but certain; toall men else incredible and vain. Of this there is a notable instance in thealchemists and their dogmas, though it is hardly to be found elsewhere in thesetimes, except perhaps in the philosophy of Gilbert. Nevertheless, with regardto philosophies of this kind there is one caution not to be omitted; for Iforesee that if ever men are roused by my admonitions to betake themselvesseriously to experiment and bid farewell to sophistical doctrines, then indeedthrough the premature hurry of the understanding to leap or fly to universalsand principles of things, great danger may be apprehended from philosophies ofthis kind, against which evil we ought even now to prepare.
LXV
But the corruption of philosophy by superstition and an admixture oftheology is far more widely spread, and does the greatest harm, whether toentire systems or to their parts. For the human understanding is obnoxious tothe influence of the imagination no less than to the influence of commonnotions. For the contentious and sophistical kind of philosophy ensnares theunderstanding; but this kind, being fanciful and tumid and half poetical,misleads it more by flattery. For there is in man an ambition of theunderstanding, no less than of the will, especially in high and loftyspirits.
Of this kind we have among the Greeks a striking example in Pythagoras,though he united with it a coarser and more cumbrous superstition; another inPlato and his school, more dangerous and subtle. It shows itself likewise inparts of other philosophies, in the introduction of abstract forms and finalcauses and first causes, with the omission in most cases of causesintermediate, and the like. Upon this point the greatest caution should beused. For nothing is so mischievous as the apotheosis of error; and it is avery plague of the understanding for vanity to become the object of veneration.Yet in this vanity some of the moderns have with extreme levity indulged so faras to attempt to found a system of natural philosophy on the first chapter ofGenesis, on the book of Job, and other parts of the sacred writings, seekingfor the dead among the living; which also makes the inhibition and repressionof it the more important, because from this unwholesome mixture of things humanand divine there arises not only a fantastic philosophy but also a hereticalreligion. Very meet it is therefore that we be sober-minded, and give to faiththat only which is faith's.
LXVI
So much, then, for the mischievous authorities of systems, which arefounded either on common notions, or on a few experiments, or on superstition.It remains to speak of the faulty subject matter of contemplations, especiallyin natural philosophy. Now the human understanding is infected by the sight ofwhat takes place in the mechanical arts, in which the alteration of bodiesproceeds chiefly by composition or separation, and so imagines that somethingsimilar goes on in the universal nature of things. From this source has flowedthe fiction of elements, and of their concourse for the formation of naturalbodies. Again, when man contemplates nature working freely, he meets withdifferent species of things, of animals, of plants, of minerals; whence hereadily passes into the opinion that there are in nature certain primary formswhich nature intends to educe, and that the remaining variety proceeds fromhindrances and aberrations of nature in the fulfillment of her work, or fromthe collision of different species and the transplanting of one into another.To the first of these speculations we owe our primary qualities of theelements; to the other our occult properties and specific virtues; and both ofthem belong to those empty compendia of thought wherein the mind rests, andwhereby it is diverted from more solid pursuits. It is to better purpose thatthe physicians bestow their labor on the secondary qualities of matter, and theoperations of attraction, repulsion, attenuation, conspissation,1dilatation, astriction, dissipation, maturation, and the like; and were it notthat by those two compendia which I have mentioned (elementary qualities, towit, and specific virtues) they corrupted their correct observations in theseother matters — either reducing them to first qualities and their subtleand incommensurable mixtures, or not following them out with greater and morediligent observations to third and fourth qualities, but breaking off thescrutiny prematurely — they would have made much greater progress. Nor arepowers of this kind (I do not say the same, but similar) to be sought for onlyin the medicines of the human body, but also in the changes of all otherbodies.
But it is a far greater evil that they make the quiescent principles,wherefrom, and not the moving principles,whereby, things areproduced, the object of their contemplation and inquiry. For the former tend todiscourse, the latter to works. Nor is there any value in those vulgardistinctions of motion which are observed in the received system of naturalphilosophy, as generation, corruption, augmentation, diminution, alteration,and local motion. What they mean no doubt is this: if a body in other respectsnot changed be moved from its place,this is local motion; if withoutchange of place or essence, it be changed in quality, this isalteration; if by reason of the change the mass and quantity of the bodydo not remain the same, this isaugmentation ordiminution; ifthey be changed to such a degree that they change their very essence andsubstance and turn to something else, this isgeneration andcorruption. But all this is merely popular, and does not at all go deepinto nature; for these are only measures and limits, not kinds of motion. Whatthey intimate ishow far, notby what means, orfrom whatsource. For they do not suggest anything with regard either to the desiresof bodies or to the development of their parts. It is only when that motionpresents the thing grossly and palpably to the sense as different from what itwas that they begin to mark the division. Even when they wish to suggestsomething with regard to the causes of motion, and to establish a division withreference to them, they introduce with the greatest negligence a distinctionbetween motion natural and violent, a distinction which is itself drawnentirely from a vulgar notion, since all violent motion is also in factnatural; the external efficient simply setting nature working otherwise than itwas before. But if, leaving all this, anyone shall observe (for instance) thatthere is in bodies a desire of mutual contact, so as not to suffer the unity ofnature to be quite separated or broken and a vacuum thus made; or if anyone saythat there is in bodies a desire of resuming their natural dimensions ortension, so that if compressed within or extended beyond them, they immediatelystrive to recover themselves, and fall back to their old volume and extent; orif anyone say that there is in bodies a desire of congregating toward masses ofkindred nature — of dense bodies, for instance, toward the globe of theearth, of thin and rare bodies toward the compass of the sky; all these and thelike are truly physical kinds of motion — but those others are entirelylogical and scholastic, as is abundantly manifest from this comparison.
Nor again is it a lesser evil that in their philosophies andcontemplations their labor is spent in investigating and handling the firstprinciples of things and the highest generalities of nature; whereas utilityand the means of working result entirely from things intermediate. Hence it isthat men cease not from abstracting nature till they come to potential anduninformed matter, nor on the other hand from dissecting nature till they reachthe atom; things which, even if true, can do but little for the welfare ofmankind.
1 [Conspissatio. — Ed.]
LXVII
A caution must also be given to the understanding against theintemperance which systems of philosophy manifest in giving or withholdingassent, because intemperance of this kind seems to establish idols and in somesort to perpetuate them, leaving no way open to reach and dislodge them.
This excess is of two kinds: the first being manifest in those who areready in deciding, and render sciences dogmatic and magisterial; the other inthose who deny that we can know anything, and so introduce a wandering kind ofinquiry that leads to nothing; of which kinds the former subdues, the latterweakens the understanding. For the philosophy of Aristotle, after having byhostile confutations destroyed all the rest (as the Ottomans serve theirbrothers), has laid down the law on all points; which done, he proceeds himselfto raise new questions of his own suggestion, and dispose of them likewise, sothat nothing may remain that is not certain and decided; a practice which holdsand is in use among his successors.
The school of Plato, on the other hand, introducedAcatalepsia,at first in jest and irony, and in disdain of the older sophists, Protagoras,Hippias, and the rest, who were of nothing else so much ashamed as of seemingto doubt about anything. But the New Academy made a dogma of it, and held it asa tenet. And though theirs is a fairer seeming way than arbitrary decisions,since they say that they by no means destroy all investigation, like Pyrrho andhis Refrainers, but allow of some things to be followed as probable, though ofnone to be maintained as true; yet still when the human mind has once despairedof finding truth, its interest in all things grows fainter, and the result isthat men turn aside to pleasant disputations and discourses and roam as it werefrom object to object, rather than keep on a course of severe inquisition. But,as I said at the beginning and am ever urging, the human senses andunderstanding, weak as they are, are not to be deprived of their authority, butto be supplied with helps.
LXVIII
So much concerning the several classes of Idols and their equipage; allof which must be renounced and put away with a fixed and solemn determination,and the understanding thoroughly freed and cleansed; the entrance into thekingdom of man, founded on the sciences, being not much other than the entranceinto the kingdom of heaven, whereinto none may enter except as a littlechild.
LXIX
But vicious demonstrations are as the strongholds and defenses of idols;and those we have in logic do little else than make the world the bondslave ofhuman thought, and human thought the bondslave of words. Demonstrations trulyare in effect the philosophies themselves and the sciences. For such asthey are, well or ill established, such are the systems of philosophyand the contemplations which follow. Now in the whole of the process whichleads from the sense and objects to axioms and conclusions, the demonstrationswhich we use are deceptive and incompetent. This process consists of fourparts, and has as many faults. In the first place, the impressions of the senseitself are faulty; for the sense both fails us and deceives us. But itsshortcomings are to be supplied, and its deceptions to be corrected. Secondly,notions are ill-drawn from the impressions of the senses, and are indefiniteand confused, whereas they should be definite and distinctly bounded. Thirdly,the induction is amiss which infers the principles of sciences by simpleenumeration, and does not, as it ought, employ exclusions and solutions (orseparations) of nature. Lastly, that method of discovery and proof according towhich the most general principles are first established, and then intermediateaxioms are tried and proved by them, is the parent of error and the curse ofall science. Of these things, however, which now I do but touch upon, I willspeak more largely when, having performed these expiations and purgings of themind, I come to set forth the true way for the interpretation of nature.
LXX
But the best demonstration by far is experience, if it go not beyond theactual experiment. For if it be transferred to other cases which are deemedsimilar, unless such transfer be made by a just and orderly process, it is afallacious thing. But the manner of making experiments which men now use isblind and stupid. And therefore, wandering and straying as they do with nosettled course, and taking counsel only from things as they fall out, theyfetch a wide circuit and meet with many matters, but make little progress; andsometimes are full of hope, sometimes are distracted; and always find thatthere is something beyond to be sought. For it generally happens that men maketheir trials carelessly, and as it were in play; slightly varying experimentsalready known, and, if the thing does not answer, growing weary and abandoningthe attempt. And even if they apply themselves to experiments more seriouslyand earnestly and laboriously, still they spend their labor in working out someone experiment, as Gilbert with the magnet, and the chemists with gold; acourse of proceeding not less unskillful in the design than small in theattempt. For no one successfully investigates the nature of a thing in thething itself; the inquiry must be enlarged so as to become more general.
And even when they seek to educe some science or theory from theirexperiments, they nevertheless almost always turn aside with overhasty andunseasonable eagerness to practice; not only for the sake of the uses andfruits of the practice, but from impatience to obtain in the shape of some newwork an assurance for themselves that it is worth their while to go on; andalso to show themselves off to the world, and so raise the credit of thebusiness in which they are engaged. Thus, like Atalanta, they go aside to pickup the golden apple, but meanwhile they interrupt their course, and let thevictory escape them. But in the true course of experience, and in carrying iton to the effecting of new works, the divine wisdom and order must be ourpattern. Now God on the first day of creation created light only, giving tothat work an entire day, in which no material substance was created. So must welikewise from experience of every kind first endeavor to discover true causesand axioms; and seek for experiments of Light, not for experiments of Fruit.For axioms rightly discovered and established supply practice with itsinstruments, not one by one, but in clusters, and draw after them trains andtroops of works. Of the paths, however, of experience, which no less than thepaths of judgment are impeded and beset, I will speak hereafter; here I haveonly mentioned ordinary experimental research as a bad kind of demonstration.But now the order of the matter in hand leads me to add something both as tothosesigns which I lately mentioned (signs that the systems ofphilosophy and contemplation in use are in a bad condition), and also as to thecauses of what seems at first so strange and incredible. For a knowledgeof the signs prepares assent; an explanation of the causes removes the marvel— which two things will do much to render the extirpation of idols fromthe understanding more easy and gentle.
LXXI
The sciences which we possess come for the most part from the Greeks.For what has been added by Roman, Arabic, or later writers is not much nor ofmuch importance; and whatever it is, it is built on the foundation of Greekdiscoveries. Now the wisdom of the Greeks was professorial and much given todisputations, a kind of wisdom most adverse to the inquisition of truth. Thusthat name of Sophists, which by those who would be thought philosophers was incontempt cast back upon and so transferred to the ancient rhetoricians,Gorgias, Protagoras, Hippias, Polus, does indeed suit the entire class: Plato,Aristotle, Zeno, Epicurus, Theophrastus, and their successors Chrysippus,Carneades, and the rest. There was this difference only, that the former classwas wandering and mercenary, going about from town to town, putting up theirwisdom to sale, and taking a price for it, while the latter was more pompousand dignified, as composed of men who had fixed abodes, and who opened schoolsand taught their philosophy without reward. Still both sorts, though in otherrespects unequal, were professorial; both turned the matter into disputations,and set up and battled for philosophical sects and heresies; so that theirdoctrines were for the most part (as Dionysius not unaptly rallied Plato) "thetalk of idle old men to ignorant youths." But the elder of the Greekphilosophers, Empedocles, Anaxagoras, Leucippus, Democritus, Parmenides,Heraclitus, Xenophanes, Philolaus, and the rest (I omit Pythagoras as amystic), did not, so far as we know, open schools; but more silently andseverely and simply — that is, with less affectation and parade —betook themselves to the inquisition of truth. And therefore they were in myjudgment more successful; only that their works were in the course of timeobscured by those slighter persons who had more which suits and pleases thecapacity and tastes of the vulgar; time, like a river, bringing down to usthings which are light and puffed up, but letting weighty matters sink. Stilleven they were not altogether free from the failing of their nation, but leanedtoo much to the ambition and vanity of founding a sect and catching popularapplause. But the inquisition of truth must be despaired of when it turns asideto trifles of this kind. Nor should we omit that judgment, or ratherdivination, which was given concerning the Greeks by the Egyptian priest —that "they were always boys, without antiquity of knowledge or knowledge ofantiquity." Assuredly they have that which is characteristic of boys: they areprompt to prattle, but cannot generate; for their wisdom abounds in words butis barren of works. And therefore the signs which are taken from the origin andbirthplace of the received philosophy are not good.
LXXII
Nor does the character of the time and age yield much better signs thanthe character of the country and nation. For at that period there was but anarrow and meager knowledge either of time or place, which is the worst thingthat can be, especially for those who rest all on experience. For they had nohistory worthy to be called history that went back a thousand years — butonly fables and rumors of antiquity. And of the regions and districts of theworld they knew but a small portion, giving indiscriminately the name ofScythians to all in the North, of Celts to all in the West; knowing nothing ofAfrica beyond the hither side of Ethiopia, of Asia beyond the Ganges. Much lesswere they acquainted with the provinces of the New World, even by hearsay orany well-founded rumor; nay, a multitude of climates and zones, whereininnumerable nations breathe and live, were pronounced by them to beuninhabitable; and the travels of Democritus, Plato, and Pythagoras, which wererather suburban excursions than distant journeys, were talked of as somethinggreat. In our times, on the other hand, both many parts of the New World andthe limits on every side of the Old World are known, and our stock ofexperience has increased to an infinite amount. Wherefore if (like astrologers)we draw signs from the season of their nativity or birth, nothing great can bepredicted of those systems of philosophy.
LXXIII
Of all signs there is none more certain or more noble than that takenfrom fruits. For fruits and works are as it were sponsors and sureties for thetruth of philosophies. Now, from all these systems of the Greeks, and theirramifications through particular sciences, there can hardly after the lapse ofso many years be adduced a single experiment which tends to relieve and benefitthe condition of man, and which can with truth be referred to the speculationsand theories of philosophy. And Celsus ingenuously and wisely owns as much whenhe tells us that the experimental part of medicine was first discovered, andthat afterwards men philosophized about it, and hunted for and assigned causes;and not by an inverse process that philosophy and the knowledge of causes ledto the discovery and development of the experimental part. And therefore it wasnot strange that among the Egyptians, who rewarded inventors with divine honorsand sacred rites, there were more images of brutes than of men; inasmuch asbrutes by their natural instinct have produced many discoveries, whereas men bydiscussion and the conclusions of reason have given birth to few or none.
Some little has indeed been produced by the industry of chemists; but ithas been produced accidentally and in passing, or else by a kind of variationof experiments, such as mechanics use, and not by any art or theory. For thetheory which they have devised rather confuses the experiments than aids them.They, too, who have busied themselves with natural magic, as they call it, havebut few discoveries to show, and those trifling and imposture-like. Wherefore,as in religion we are warned to show our faith by works, so in philosophy bythe same rule the system should be judged of by its fruits, and pronouncedfrivolous if it be barren, more especially if, in place of fruits of grape andolive, it bear thorns and briers of dispute and contention.
LXXIV
Signs also are to be drawn from the increase and progress of systems andsciences. For what is founded on nature grows and increases, while what isfounded on opinion varies but increases not. If therefore those doctrines hadnot plainly been like a plant torn up from its roots, but had remained attachedto the womb of nature and continued to draw nourishment from her, that couldnever have come to pass which we have seen now for twice a thousand years;namely, that the sciences stand where they did and remain almost in the samecondition, receiving no noticeable increase, but on the contrary, thriving mostunder their first founder, and then declining. Whereas in the mechanical arts,which are founded on nature and the light of experience, we see the contraryhappen, for these (as long as they are popular) are continually thriving andgrowing, as having in them a breath of life, at the first rude, thenconvenient, afterwards adorned, and at all times advancing.
LXXV
There is still another sign remaining (if sign it can be called, when itis rather testimony, nay, of all testimony the most valid). I mean theconfession of the very authorities whom men now follow. For even they who laydown the law on all things so confidently, do still in their more sober moodsfall to complaints of the subtlety of nature, the obscurity of things, and theweakness of the human mind. Now if this were all they did, some perhaps of atimid disposition might be deterred from further search, while others of a moreardent and hopeful spirit might be whetted and incited to go on farther. Butnot content to speak for themselves, whatever is beyond their own or theirmaster's knowledge or reach they set down as beyond the bounds of possibility,and pronounce, as if on the authority of their art, that it cannot be known ordone; thus most presumptuously and invidiously turning the weakness of theirown discoveries into a calumny of nature herself, and the despair of the restof the world. Hence the school of the New Academy, which heldAcatalepsia as a tenet and doomed men to perpetual darkness. Hence theopinion that forms or true differences of things (which are in fact laws ofpure act) are past finding out and beyond the reach of man. Hence, too, thoseopinions in the department of action and operation; as, that the heat of thesun and of fire are quite different in kind — lest men should imagine thatby the operations of fire anything like the works of nature can be educed andformed. Hence the notion that composition only is the work of man, and mixtureof none but nature — lest men should expect from art some power ofgenerating or transforming natural bodies. By this sign, therefore, men willeasily take warning not to mix up their fortunes and labors with dogmas notonly despaired of but dedicated to despair.
LXXVI
Neither is this other sign to be omitted: that formerly there existedamong philosophers such great disagreement, and such diversities in the schoolsthemselves, a fact which sufficiently shows that the road from the senses tothe understanding was not skillfully laid out, when the same groundwork ofphilosophy (the nature of things to wit) was torn and split up into such vagueand multifarious errors. And although in these times disagreements anddiversities of opinion on first principles and entire systems are for the mostpart extinguished, still on parts of philosophy there remain innumerablequestions and disputes, so that it plainly appears that neither in the systemsthemselves nor in the modes of demonstration is there anything certain orsound.
LXXVII
And as for the general opinion that in the philosophy of Aristotle, atany rate, there is great agreement, since after its publication the systems ofolder philosophers died away, while in the times which followed nothing betterwas found, so that it seems to have been so well laid and established as tohave drawn both ages in its train — I answer in the first place, that thecommon notion of the falling off of the old systems upon the publication ofAristotle's works is a false one; for long afterwards, down even to the timesof Cicero and subsequent ages, the works of the old philosophers stillremained. But in the times which followed, when on the inundation of barbariansinto the Roman empire human learning had suffered shipwreck, then the systemsof Aristotle and Plato, like planks of lighter and less solid material, floatedon the waves of time and were preserved. Upon the point of consent also men aredeceived, if the matter be looked into more keenly. For true consent is thatwhich consists in the coincidence of free judgments, after due examination. Butfar the greater number of those who have assented to the philosophy ofAristotle have addicted themselves thereto from prejudgment and upon theauthority of others; so that it is a following and going along together, ratherthan consent. But even if it had been a real and widespread consent, still solittle ought consent to be deemed a sure and solid confirmation, that it is infact a strong presumption the other way. For the worst of all auguries is fromconsent in matters intellectual (divinity excepted, and politics where there isright of vote). For nothing pleases the many unless it strikes the imagination,or binds the understanding with the bands of common notions, as I have alreadysaid. We may very well transfer, therefore, from moral to intellectual mattersthe saying of Phocion, that if the multitude assent and applaud, men oughtimmediately to examine themselves as to what blunder or fault they may havecommitted. This sign, therefore, is one of the most unfavorable. And so muchfor this point; namely, that the signs of truth and soundness in the receivedsystems and sciences are not good, whether they be drawn from their origin, orfrom their fruits, or from their progress, or from the confessions of theirfounders, or from general consent.
LXXVIII
I now come to thecauses of these errors, and of so long acontinuance in them through so many ages, which are very many and very potent;that all wonder how these considerations which I bring forward should haveescaped men's notice till now may cease, and the only wonder be how now at lastthey should have entered into any man's head and become the subject of histhoughts — which truly I myself esteem as the result of some happyaccident, rather than of any excellence of faculty in me — a birth of Timerather than a birth of Wit. Now, in the first place, those so many ages, if youweigh the case truly, shrink into a very small compass. For out of the five andtwenty centuries over which the memory and learning of men extends, you canhardly pick out six that were fertile in sciences or favorable to theirdevelopment. In times no less than in regions there are wastes and deserts. Foronly three revolutions and periods of learning can properly be reckoned: oneamong the Greeks, the second among the Romans, and the last among us, that isto say, the nations of Western Europe. And to each of these hardly twocenturies can justly be assigned. The intervening ages of the world, in respectof any rich or flourishing growth of the sciences, were unprosperous. Forneither the Arabians nor the Schoolmen need be mentioned, who in theintermediate times rather crushed the sciences with a multitude of treatises,than increased their weight. And therefore the first cause of so meager aprogress in the sciences is duly and orderly referred to the narrow limits ofthe time that has been favorable to them.
LXXIX
In the second place there presents itself a cause of great weight in allways, namely, that during those very ages in which the wits and learning of menhave flourished most, or indeed flourished at all, the least part of theirdiligence was given to natural philosophy. Yet this very philosophy it is thatought to be esteemed the great mother of the sciences. For all arts and allsciences, if torn from this root, though they may be polished and shaped andmade fit for use, yet they will hardly grow. Now it is well known that afterthe Christian religion was received and grew strong, by far the greater numberof the best wits applied themselves to theology; that to this both the highestrewards were offered, and helps of all kinds most abundantly supplied; and thatthis devotion to theology chiefly occupied that third portion or epoch of timeamong us Europeans of the West, and the more so because about the same timeboth literature began to flourish and religious controversies to spring up. Inthe age before, on the other hand, during the continuance of the second periodamong the Romans, the meditations and labors of philosophers were principallyemployed and consumed on moral philosophy, which to the heathen was as theologyto us. Moreover, in those times the greatest wits applied themselves verygenerally to public affairs, the magnitude of the Roman empire requiring theservices of a great number of persons. Again, the age in which naturalphilosophy was seen to flourish most among the Greeks was but a brief particleof time; for in early ages the Seven Wise Men, as they were called (all exceptThales), applied themselves to morals and politics; and in later times, whenSocrates had drawn down philosophy from heaven to earth, moral philosophybecame more fashionable than ever, and diverted the minds of men from thephilosophy of nature.
Nay, the very period itself in which inquiries concerning natureflourished, was by controversies and the ambitious display of new opinionscorrupted and made useless. Seeing therefore that during those three periodsnatural philosophy was in a great degree either neglected or hindered, it is nowonder if men made but small advance in that to which they were notattending.
LXXX
To this it may be added that natural philosophy, even among those whohave attended to it, has scarcely ever possessed, especially in these latertimes, a disengaged and whole man (unless it were some monk studying in hiscell, or some gentleman in his country house), but that it has been made merelya passage and bridge to something else. And so this great mother of thesciences has with strange indignity been degraded to the offices of a servant,having to attend on the business of medicine or mathematics, and likewise towash and imbue youthful and unripe wits with a sort of first dye, in order thatthey may be the fitter to receive another afterwards. Meanwhile let no man lookfor much progress in the sciences — especially in the practical part ofthem — unless natural philosophy be carried on and applied to particularsciences, and particular sciences be carried back again to natural philosophy.For want of this, astronomy, optics, music, a number of mechanical arts,medicine itself — nay, what one might more wonder at, moral and politicalphilosophy, and the logical sciences — altogether lack profoundness, andmerely glide along the surface and variety of things. Because after theseparticular sciences have been once distributed and established, they are nomore nourished by natural philosophy, which might have drawn out of the truecontemplation of motions, rays, sounds, texture and configuration of bodies,affections, and intellectual perceptions, the means of imparting to them freshstrength and growth. And therefore it is nothing strange if the sciences grownot, seeing they are parted from their roots.
LXXXI
Again there is another great and powerful cause why the sciences havemade but little progress, which is this. It is not possible to run a coursearight when the goal itself has not been rightly placed. Now the true andlawful goal of the sciences is none other than this: that human life be endowedwith new discoveries and powers. But of this the great majority have nofeeling, but are merely hireling and professorial; except when it occasionallyhappens that some workman of acuter wit and covetous of honor applies himselfto a new invention, which he mostly does at the expense of his fortunes. But ingeneral, so far are men from proposing to themselves to augment the mass ofarts and sciences, that from the mass already at hand they neither take norlook for anything more than what they may turn to use in their lectures, or togain, or to reputation, or to some similar advantage. And if any one out of allthe multitude court science with honest affection and for her own sake, yeteven with him the object will be found to be rather the variety ofcontemplations and doctrines than the severe and rigid search after truth. Andif by chance there be one who seeks after truth in earnest, yet even he willpropose to himself such a kind of truth as shall yield satisfaction to the mindand understanding in rendering causes for things long since discovered, and notthe truth which shall lead to new assurance of works and new light of axioms.If then the end of the sciences has not as yet been well placed, it is notstrange that men have erred as to the means.
LXXXII
And as men have misplaced the end and goal of the sciences, so again,even if they had placed it right, yet they have chosen a way to it which isaltogether erroneous and impassable. And an astonishing thing it is to one whorightly considers the matter, that no mortal should have seriously appliedhimself to the opening and laying out of a road for the human understandingdirect from the sense, by a course of experiment orderly conducted and wellbuilt up, but that all has been left either to the mist of tradition, or thewhirl and eddy of argument, or the fluctuations and mazes of chance and ofvague and ill-digested experience. Now let any man soberly and diligentlyconsider what the way is by which men have been accustomed to proceed in theinvestigation and discovery of things, and in the first place he will no doubtremark a method of discovery very simple and inartificial, which is the mostordinary method, and is no more than this. When a man addresses himself todiscover something, he first seeks out and sets before him all that has beensaid about it by others; then he begins to meditate for himself; and so by muchagitation and working of the wit solicits and as it were evokes his own spiritto give him oracles; which method has no foundation at all, but rests only uponopinions and is carried about with them.
Another may perhaps call in logic to discover it for him, but that hasno relation to the matter except in name. For logical invention does notdiscover principles and chief axioms, of which arts are composed, but only suchthings as appear to be consistent with them. For if you grow more curious andimportunate and busy, and question her of probations and invention ofprinciples or primary axioms, her answer is well known; she refers you to thefaith you are bound to give to the principles of each separate art.
There remains simple experience which, if taken as it comes, is calledaccident; if sought for, experiment. But this kind of experience is no betterthan a broom without its band, as the saying is — a mere groping, as ofmen in the dark, that feel all round them for the chance of finding their way,when they had much better wait for daylight, or light a candle, and then go.But the true method of experience, on the contrary, first lights the candle,and then by means of the candle shows the way; commencing as it does withexperience duly ordered and digested, not bungling or erratic, and from iteducing axioms, and from established axioms again new experiments; even as itwas not without order and method that the divine word operated on the createdmass. Let men therefore cease to wonder that the course of science is not yetwholly run, seeing that they have gone altogether astray, either leaving andabandoning experience entirely, or losing their way in it and wandering roundand round as in a labyrinth. Whereas a method rightly ordered leads by anunbroken route through the woods of experience to the open ground ofaxioms.
LXXXIII
This evil, however, has been strangely increased by an opinion orconceit, which though of long standing is vain and hurtful, namely, that thedignity of the human mind is impaired by long and close intercourse withexperiments and particulars, subject to sense and bound in matter; especiallyas they are laborious to search, ignoble to meditate, harsh to deliver,illiberal to practice, infinite in number, and minute in subtlety. So that ithas come at length to this, that the true way is not merely deserted, but shutout and stopped up; experience being, I do not say abandoned or badly managed,but rejected with disdain.
LXXXIV
Again, men have been kept back as by a kind of enchantment from progressin the sciences by reverence for antiquity, by the authority of men accountedgreat in philosophy, and then by general consent. Of the last I have spokenabove.
As for antiquity, the opinion touching it which men entertain is quite anegligent one and scarcely consonant with the word itself. For the old age ofthe world is to be accounted the true antiquity; and this is the attribute ofour own times, not of that earlier age of the world in which the ancientslived, and which, though in respect of us it was the elder, yet in respect ofthe world it was the younger. And truly as we look for greater knowledge ofhuman things and a riper judgment in the old man than in the young, because ofhis experience and of the number and variety of the things which he has seenand heard and thought of, so in like manner from our age, if it but knew itsown strength and chose to essay and exert it, much more might fairly beexpected than from the ancient times, inasmuch as it is a more advanced age ofthe world, and stored and stocked with infinite experiments andobservations.
Nor must it go for nothing that by the distant voyages and travels whichhave become frequent in our times many things in nature have been laid open anddiscovered which may let in new light upon philosophy. And surely it would bedisgraceful if, while the regions of the material globe — that is, of theearth, of the sea, and of the stars — have been in our times laid widelyopen and revealed, the intellectual globe should remain shut up within thenarrow limits of old discoveries.
And with regard to authority, it shows a feeble mind to grant so much toauthors and yet deny time his rights, who is the author of authors, nay, ratherof all authority. For rightly is truth called the daughter of time, not ofauthority. It is no wonder therefore if those enchantments of antiquity andauthority and consent have so bound up men's powers that they have been madeimpotent (like persons bewitched) to accompany with the nature of things.
LXXXV
Nor is it only the admiration of antiquity, authority, and consent, thathas forced the industry of man to rest satisfied with the discoveries alreadymade, but also an admiration for the works themselves of which the human racehas long been in possession. For when a man looks at the variety and the beautyof the provision which the mechanical arts have brought together for men's use,he will certainly be more inclined to admire the wealth of man than to feel hiswants; not considering that the original observations and operations of nature(which are the life and moving principle of all that variety) are not many nordeeply fetched, and that the rest is but patience, and the subtle and ruledmotion of the hand and instruments — as the making of clocks (forinstance) is certainly a subtle and exact work: their wheels seem to imitatethe celestial orbs, and their alternating and orderly motion, the pulse ofanimals; and yet all this depends on one or two axioms of nature.
Again, if you observe the refinement of the liberal arts, or even thatwhich relates to the mechanical preparation of natural substances, and takenotice of such things as the discovery in astronomy of the motions of theheavens, of harmony in music, of the letters of the alphabet (to this day notin use among the Chinese) in grammar; or again in things mechanical, thediscovery of the works of Bacchus and Ceres — that is, of the arts ofpreparing wine and beer, and of making bread; the discovery once more of thedelicacies of the table, of distillations and the like; and if you likewisebear in mind the long periods which it has taken to bring these things to theirpresent degree of perfection (for they are all ancient except distillation),and again (as has been said of clocks) how little they owe to observations andaxioms of nature, and how easily and obviously and as it were by casualsuggestion they may have been discovered; you will easily cease from wondering,and on the contrary will pity the condition of mankind, seeing that in a courseof so many ages there has been so great a dearth and barrenness of arts andinventions. And yet these very discoveries which we have just mentioned areolder than philosophy and intellectual arts. So that, if the truth must bespoken, when the rational and dogmatical sciences began, the discovery ofuseful works came to an end.
And again, if a man turn from the workshop to the library, and wonder atthe immense variety of books he sees there, let him but examine and diligentlyinspect their matter and contents, and his wonder will assuredly be turned theother way. For after observing their endless repetitions, and how men are eversaying and doing what has been said and done before, he will pass fromadmiration of the variety to astonishment at the poverty and scantiness of thesubjects which till now have occupied and possessed the minds of men.
And if again he descend to the consideration of those arts which aredeemed curious rather than safe, and look more closely into the works of thealchemists or the magicians, he will be in doubt perhaps whether he oughtrather to laugh over them or to weep. For the alchemist nurses eternal hope andwhen the thing fails, lays the blame upon some error of his own; fearing eitherthat he has not sufficiently understood the words of his art or of his authors(whereupon he turns to tradition and auricular whispers), or else that in hismanipulations he has made some slip of a scruple in weight or a moment in time(whereupon he repeats his trials to infinity). And when, meanwhile, among thechances of experiment he lights upon some conclusions either in aspect new orfor utility not contemptible, he takes these for earnest of what is to come,and feeds his mind upon them, and magnifies them to the most, and supplies therest in hope. Not but that the alchemists have made a good many discoveries andpresented men with useful inventions. But their case may be well compared tothe fable of the old man who bequeathed to his sons gold buried in a vineyard,pretending not to know the exact spot; whereupon the sons applied themselvesdiligently to the digging of the vineyard, and though no gold was found there,yet the vintage by that digging was made more plentiful.
Again the students of natural magic, who explain everything bysympathies and antipathies, have in their idle and most slothful conjecturesascribed to substances wonderful virtues and operations; and if ever they haveproduced works, they have been such as aim rather at admiration and noveltythan at utility and fruit.
In superstitious magic on the other hand (if of this also we mustspeak), it is especially to be observed that they are but subjects of a certainand definite kind wherein the curious and superstitious arts, in all nationsand ages, and religions also, have worked or played. These therefore we maypass. Meanwhile if is nowise strange if opinion of plenty has been the cause ofwant.
LXXXVI
Further, this admiration of men for knowledges and arts — anadmiration in itself weak enough, and well-nigh childish — has beenincreased by the craft and artifices of those who have handled and transmittedsciences. For they set them forth with such ambition and parade, and bring theminto the view of the world so fashioned and masked as if they were complete inall parts and finished. For if you look at the method of them and thedivisions, they seem to embrace and comprise everything which can belong to thesubject. And although these divisions are ill filled out and are but as emptycases, still to the common mind they present the form and plan of a perfectscience. But the first and most ancient seekers after truth were wont, withbetter faith and better fortune, too, to throw the knowledge which theygathered from the contemplation of things, and which they meant to store up foruse, into aphorisms; that is, into short and scattered sentences, not linkedtogether by an artificial method; and did not pretend or profess to embrace theentire art. But as the matter now is, it is nothing strange if men do not seekto advance in things delivered to them as long since perfect and complete.
LXXXVII
Moreover, the ancient systems have received no slight accession ofreputation and credit from the vanity and levity of those who have propoundednew ones, especially in the active and practical department of naturalphilosophy. For there have not been wanting talkers and dreamers who, partlyfrom credulity, partly in imposture, have loaded mankind with promises,offering and announcing the prolongation of life, the retardation of age, thealleviation of pain, the repairing of natural defects, the deceiving of thesenses; arts of binding and inciting the affections, of illuminating andexalting the intellectual faculties, of transmuting substances, ofstrengthening and multiplying motions at will, of making impressions andalterations in the air, of bringing down and procuring celestial influences;arts of divining things future, and bringing things distant near, and revealingthings secret; and many more. But with regard to these lavish promisers, thisjudgment would not be far amiss: that there is as much difference in philosophybetween their vanities and true arts as there is in history between theexploits of Julius Caesar or Alexander the Great, and the exploits of Amadis ofGaul or Arthur of Britain. For it is true that those illustrious generalsreally did greater things than these shadowy heroes are even feigned to havedone; but they did them by means and ways of action not fabulous or monstrous.Yet surely it is not fair that the credit of true history should be lessenedbecause it has sometimes been injured and wronged by fables. Meanwhile it isnot to be wondered at if a great prejudice is raised against new propositions,especially when works are also mentioned, because of those impostors who haveattempted the like; since their excess of vanity, and the disgust it has bred,have their effect still in the destruction of all greatness of mind inenterprises of this kind.
LXXXVIII
Far more, however, has knowledge suffered from littleness of spirit andthe smallness and slightness of the tasks which human industry has proposed toitself. And what is worst of all, this very littleness of spirit comes with acertain air of arrogance and superiority.
For in the first place there is found in all arts one general device,which has now become familiar — that the author lays the weakness of hisart to the charge of nature: whatever his art cannot attain he sets down on theauthority of the same art to be in nature impossible. And truly no art can becondemned if it be judge itself. Moreover, the philosophy which is now in vogueembraces and cherishes certain tenets, the purpose of which (if it bediligently examined) is to persuade men that nothing difficult, nothing bywhich nature may be commanded and subdued, can be expected from art or humanlabor; as with respect to the doctrine that the heat of the sun and of firediffer in kind, and to that other concerning mixture, has been alreadyobserved. Which things, if they be noted accurately, tend wholly to the unfaircircumscription of human power, and to a deliberate and factitious despair,which not only disturbs the auguries of hope, but also cuts the sinews and spurof industry, and throws away the chances of experience itself. And all for thesake of having their art thought perfect, and for the miserable vainglory ofmaking it believed that whatever has not yet been discovered and comprehendedcan never be discovered or comprehended hereafter.
And even if a man apply himself fairly to facts, and endeavor to findout something new, yet he will confine his aim and intention to theinvestigation and working out of some one discovery and no more; such as thenature of the magnet, the ebb and flow of the sea, the system of the heavens,and things of this kind, which seem to be in some measure secret, and havehitherto been handled without much success. Whereas it is most unskillful toinvestigate the nature of anything in the thing itself, seeing that the samenature which appears in some things to be latent and hidden is in othersmanifest and palpable; wherefore in the former it produces wonder, in thelatter excites no attention; as we find it in the nature of consistency, whichin wood or stone is not observed, but is passed over under the appellation ofsolidity without further inquiry as to why separation or solution of continuityis avoided; while in the case of bubbles, which form themselves into certainpellicles, curiously shaped into hemispheres, so that the solution ofcontinuity is avoided for a moment, it is thought a subtle matter. In fact,what in some things is accounted a secret has in others a manifest andwell-known nature, which will never be recognized as long as the experimentsand thoughts of men are engaged on the former only.
But generally speaking, in mechanics old discoveries pass for new if aman does but refine or embellish them, or unite several in one, or couple thembetter with their use, or make the work in greater or less volume than it wasbefore, or the like.
Thus, then, it is no wonder if inventions noble and worthy of mankindhave not been brought to light, when men have been contented and delighted withsuch trifling and puerile tasks, and have even fancied that in them they havebeen endeavoring after, if not accomplishing, some great matter.
LXXXIX
Neither is it to be forgotten that in every age natural philosophy hashad a troublesome and hard to deal with adversary — namely, superstition,and the blind and immoderate zeal of religion. For we see among the Greeks thatthose who first proposed to men's then uninitiated ears the natural causes forthunder and for storms were thereupon found guilty of impiety. Nor was muchmore forbearance shown by some of the ancient fathers of the Christian churchto those who on most convincing grounds (such as no one in his senses would nowthink of contradicting) maintained that the earth was round, and of consequenceasserted the existence of the antipodes.
Moreover, as things now are, to discourse of nature is made harder andmore perilous by the summaries and systems of the schoolmen who, having reducedtheology into regular order as well as they were able, and fashioned it intothe shape of an art, ended in incorporating the contentious and thornyphilosophy of Aristotle, more than was fit, with the body of religion.
To the same result, though in a different way, tend the speculations ofthose who have taken upon them to deduce the truth of the Christian religionfrom the principles of philosophers, and to confirm it by their authority,pompously solemnizing this union of the sense and faith as a lawful marriage,and entertaining men's minds with a pleasing variety of matter, but all thewhile disparaging things divine by mingling them with things human. Now in suchmixtures of theology with philosophy only the received doctrines of philosophyare included; while new ones, albeit changes for the better, are all butexpelled and exterminated.
Lastly, you will find that by the simpleness of certain divines, accessto any philosophy, however pure, is well-nigh closed. Some are weakly afraidlest a deeper search into nature should transgress the permitted limits ofsober-mindedness, wrongfully wresting and transferring what is said in HolyWrit against those who pry into sacred mysteries, to the hidden things ofnature, which are barred by no prohibition. Others with more subtlety surmiseand reflect that if second causes are unknown everything can more readily bereferred to the divine hand and rod, a point in which they think religiongreatly concerned — which is in fact nothing else but to seek to gratifyGod with a lie. Others fear from past example that movements and changes inphilosophy will end in assaults on religion. And others again appearapprehensive that in the investigation of nature something may be found tosubvert or at least shake the authority of religion, especially with theunlearned. But these two last fears seem to me to savor utterly of carnalwisdom; as if men in the recesses and secret thought of their hearts doubtedand distrusted the strength of religion and the empire of faith over the sense,and therefore feared that the investigation of truth in nature might bedangerous to them. But if the matter be truly considered, natural philosophyis, after the word of God, at once the surest medicine against superstition andthe most approved nourishment for faith, and therefore she is rightly given toreligion as her most faithful handmaid, since the one displays the will of God,the other his power. For he did not err who said, "Ye err in that ye know notthe Scriptures and the power of God," thus coupling and blending in anindissoluble bond information concerning his will and meditation concerning hispower. Meanwhile it is not surprising if the growth of natural philosophy ischecked when religion, the thing which has most power over men's minds, has bythe simpleness and incautious zeal of certain persons been drawn to take partagainst her.
XC
Again, in the customs and institutions of schools, academies, colleges,and similar bodies destined for the abode of learned men and the cultivation oflearning, everything is found adverse to the progress of science. For thelectures and exercises there are so ordered that to think or speculate onanything out of the common way can hardly occur to any man. And if one or twohave the boldness to use any liberty of judgment, they must undertake the taskall by themselves; they can have no advantage from the company of others. Andif they can endure this also, they will find their industry and largeness ofmind no slight hindrance to their fortune. For the studies of men in theseplaces are confined and as it were imprisoned in the writings of certainauthors, from whom if any man dissent he is straightway arraigned as aturbulent person and an innovator. But surely there is a great distinctionbetween matters of state and the arts; for the danger from new motion and fromnew light is not the same. In matters of state a change even for the better isdistrusted, because it unsettles what is established; these things resting onauthority, consent, fame and opinion, not on demonstration. But arts andsciences should be like mines, where the noise of new works and furtheradvances is heard on every side. But though the matter be so according to rightreason, it is not so acted on in practice; and the points above mentioned inthe administration and government of learning put a severe restraint upon theadvancement of the sciences.
XCI
Nay, even if that jealousy were to cease, still it is enough to checkthe growth of science that efforts and labors in this field go unrewarded. Forit does not rest with the same persons to cultivate sciences and to rewardthem. The growth of them comes from great wits; the prizes and rewards of themare in the hands of the people, or of great persons, who are but in very fewcases even moderately learned. Moreover, this kind of progress is not onlyunrewarded with prizes and substantial benefits; it has not even the advantageof popular applause. For it is a greater matter than the generality of men cantake in, and is apt to be overwhelmed and extinguished by the gales of popularopinions. And it is nothing strange if a thing not held in honor does notprosper.
XCII
But by far the greatest obstacle to the progress of science and to theundertaking of new tasks and provinces therein is found in this — that mendespair and think things impossible. For wise and serious men are wont in thesematters to be altogether distrustful, considering with themselves the obscurityof nature, the shortness of life, the deceitfulness of the senses, the weaknessof the judgment, the difficulty of experiment, and the like; and so supposingthat in the revolution of time and of the ages of the world the sciences havetheir ebbs and flows; that at one season they grow and flourish, at anotherwither and decay, yet in such sort that when they have reached a certain pointand condition they can advance no further. If therefore anyone believes orpromises more, they think this comes of an ungoverned and unripened mind, andthat such attempts have prosperous beginnings, become difficult as they go on,and end in confusion. Now since these are thoughts which naturally presentthemselves to men grave and of great judgment, we must take good heed that webe not led away by our love for a most fair and excellent object to relax ordiminish the severity of our judgment. We must observe diligently whatencouragement dawns upon us and from what quarter, and, putting aside thelighter breezes of hope, we must thoroughly sift and examine those whichpromise greater steadiness and constancy. Nay, and we must take state prudencetoo into our counsels, whose rule is to distrust, and to take the lessfavorable view of human affairs. I am now therefore to speak touching hope,especially as I am not a dealer in promises, and wish neither to force nor toensnare men's judgments, but to lead them by the hand with their good will. Andthough the strongest means of inspiring hope will be to bring men toparticulars, especially to particulars digested and arranged in my Tables ofDiscovery (the subject partly of the second, but much more of the fourth partof my Instauration), since this is not merely the promise of the thing but thething itself; nevertheless, that everything may be done with gentleness, I willproceed with my plan of preparing men's minds, of which preparation to givehope is no unimportant part. For without it the rest tends rather to make mensad (by giving them a worse and meaner opinion of things as they are than theynow have, and making them more fully to feel and know the unhappiness of theirown condition) than to induce any alacrity or to whet their industry in makingtrial. And therefore it is fit that I publish and set forth those conjecturesof mine which make hope in this matter reasonable, just as Columbus did, beforethat wonderful voyage of his across the Atlantic, when he gave the reasons forhis conviction that new lands and continents might be discovered besides thosewhich were known before; which reasons, though rejected at first, wereafterwards made good by experience, and were the causes and beginnings of greatevents.
XCIII
The beginning is from God: for the business which is in hand, having thecharacter of good so strongly impressed upon it, appears manifestly to proceedfrom God, who is the author of good, and the Father of Lights. Now in divineoperations even the smallest beginnings lead of a certainty to their end. Andas it was said of spiritual things, "The kingdom of God cometh not withobservation," so is it in all the greater works of Divine Providence;everything glides on smoothly and noiselessly, and the work is fairly going onbefore men are aware that it has begun. Nor should the prophecy of Daniel beforgotten touching the last ages of the world: "Many shall go to and fro, andknowledge shall be increased"; clearly intimating that the thorough passage ofthe world (which now by so many distant voyages seems to be accomplished, or incourse of accomplishment), and the advancement of the sciences, are destined byfate, that is, by Divine Providence, to meet in the same age.
XCIV
Next comes a consideration of the greatest importance as an argument ofhope; I mean that drawn from the errors of past time, and of the ways hithertotrodden. For most excellent was the censure once passed upon a government thathad been unwisely administered. "That which is the worst thing in reference tothe past, ought to be regarded as best for the future. For if you had done allthat your duty demanded, and yet your affairs were no better, you would nothave even a hope left you that further improvement is possible. But now, whenyour misfortunes are owing, not to the force of circumstances, but to your ownerrors, you may hope that by dismissing or correcting these errors, a greatchange may be made for the better." In like manner, if during so long a courseof years men had kept the true road for discovering and cultivating sciences,and had yet been unable to make further progress therein, bold doubtless andrash would be the opinion that further progress is possible. But if the roaditself has been mistaken, and men's labor spent on unfit objects, it followsthat the difficulty has its rise not in things themselves, which are not in ourpower, but in the human understanding, and the use and application thereof,which admits of remedy and medicine. It will be of great use therefore to setforth what these errors are. For as many impediments as there have been intimes past from this cause, so many arguments are there of hope for the time tocome. And although they have been partly touched before, I think fit here also,in plain and simple words, to represent them.
XCV
Those who have handled sciences have been either men of experiment ormen of dogmas. The men of experiment are like the ant, they only collect anduse; the reasoners resemble spiders, who make cobwebs out of their ownsubstance. But the bee takes a middle course: it gathers its material from theflowers of the garden and of the field, but transforms and digests it by apower of its own. Not unlike this is the true business of philosophy; for itneither relies solely or chiefly on the powers of the mind, nor does it takethe matter which it gathers from natural history and mechanical experiments andlay it up in the memory whole, as it finds it, but lays it up in theunderstanding altered and digested. Therefore from a closer and purer leaguebetween these two faculties, the experimental and the rational (such as hasnever yet been made), much may be hoped.
XCVI
We have as yet no natural philosophy that is pure; all is tainted andcorrupted: in Aristotle's school by logic; in Plato's by natural theology; inthe second school of Platonists, such as Proclus and others, by mathematics,which ought only to give definiteness to natural philosophy, not to generate orgive it birth. From a natural philosophy pure and unmixed, better things are tobe expected.
XCVII
No one has yet been found so firm of mind and purpose as resolutely tocompel himself to sweep away all theories and common notions, and to apply theunderstanding, thus made fair and even, to a fresh examination of particulars.Thus it happens that human knowledge, as we have it, is a mere medley andill-digested mass, made up of much credulity and much accident, and also of thechildish notions which we at first imbibed.
Now if anyone of ripe age, unimpaired senses, and well-purged mind,apply himself anew to experience and particulars, better hopes may beentertained of that man. In which point I promise to myself a like fortune tothat of Alexander the Great, and let no man tax me with vanity till he haveheard the end; for the thing which I mean tends to the putting off of allvanity. For of Alexander and his deeds Aeschines spoke thus: "Assuredly we donot live the life of mortal men; but to this end were we born, that in afterages wonders might be told of us," as if what Alexander had done seemed to himmiraculous. But in the next age Titus Livius took a better and a deeper view ofthe matter, saying in effect that Alexander "had done no more than take courageto despise vain apprehensions." And a like judgment I suppose may be passed onmyself in future ages: that I did no great things, but simply made less accountof things that were accounted great. In the meanwhile, as I have already said,there is no hope except in a new birth of science; that is, in raising itregularly up from experience and building it afresh, which no one (I think)will say has yet been done or thought of.
XCVIII
Now for grounds of experience — since to experience we must come— we have as yet had either none or very weak ones; no search has beenmade to collect a store of particular observations sufficient either in number,or in kind, or in certainty, to inform the understanding, or in any wayadequate. On the contrary, men of learning, but easy withal and idle, havetaken for the construction or for the confirmation of their philosophy certainrumors and vague fames or airs of experience, and allowed to these the weightof lawful evidence. And just as if some kingdom or state were to direct itscounsels and affairs not by letters and reports from ambassadors andtrustworthy messengers, but by the gossip of the streets; such exactly is thesystem of management introduced into philosophy with relation to experience.Nothing duly investigated, nothing verified, nothing counted, weighed, ormeasured, is to be found in natural history; and what in observation is looseand vague, is in information deceptive and treacherous. And if anyone thinksthat this is a strange thing to say, and something like an unjust complaint,seeing that Aristotle, himself so great a man, and supported by the wealth ofso great a king, has composed so accurate a history of animals; and that otherswith greater diligence, though less pretense, have made many additions; whileothers, again, have compiled copious histories and descriptions of metals,plants, and fossils; it seems that he does not rightly apprehend what it isthat we are now about. For a natural history which is composed for its own sakeis not like one that is collected to supply the understanding with informationfor the building up of philosophy. They differ in many ways, but especially inthis: that the former contains the variety of natural species only, and notexperiments of the mechanical arts. For even as in the business of life a man'sdisposition and the secret workings of his mind and affections are betterdiscovered when he is in trouble than at other times, so likewise the secretsof nature reveal themselves more readily under the vexations of art than whenthey go their own way. Good hopes may therefore be conceived of naturalphilosophy, when natural history, which is the basis and foundation of it, hasbeen drawn up on a better plan; but not till then.
XCIX
Again, even in the great plenty of mechanical experiments, there is yeta great scarcity of those which are of most use for the information of theunderstanding. For the mechanic, not troubling himself with the investigationof truth, confines his attention to those things which bear upon his particularwork, and will not either raise his mind or stretch out his hand for anythingelse. But then only will there be good ground of hope for the further advanceof knowledge when there shall be received and gathered together into naturalhistory a variety of experiments which are of no use in themselves but simplyserve to discover causes and axioms, which I callExperimenta lucifera,experiments oflight, to distinguish them from those which I callfructifera, experiments offruit.
Now experiments of this kind have one admirable property and condition:they never miss or fail. For since they are applied, not for the purpose ofproducing any particular effect, but only of discovering the natural cause ofsome effect, they answer the end equally well whichever way they turn out; forthey settle the question.
C
But not only is a greater abundance of experiments to be sought for andprocured, and that too of a different kind from those hitherto tried; anentirely different method, order, and process for carrying on and advancingexperience must also be introduced. For experience, when it wanders in its owntrack, is, as I have already remarked, mere groping in the dark, and confoundsmen rather than instructs them. But when it shall proceed in accordance with afixed law, in regular order, and without interruption, then may better thingsbe hoped of knowledge.
CI
But even after such a store of natural history and experience as isrequired for the work of the understanding, or of philosophy, shall be ready athand, still the understanding is by no means competent to deal with it offhandand by memory alone; no more than if a man should hope by force of memory toretain and make himself master of the computation of an ephemeris. And yethitherto more has been done in matter of invention by thinking than by writing;and experience has not yet learned her letters. Now no course of invention canbe satisfactory unless it be carried on in writing. But when this is broughtinto use, and experience has been taught to read and write, better things maybe hoped.
CII
Moreover, since there is so great a number and army of particulars, andthat army so scattered and dispersed as to distract and confound theunderstanding, little is to be hoped for from the skirmishings and slightattacks and desultory movements of the intellect, unless all the particularswhich pertain to the subject of inquiry shall, by means of Tables of Discovery,apt, well arranged, and, as it were, animate, be drawn up and marshaled; andthe mind be set to work upon the helps duly prepared and digested which thesetables supply.
CIII
But after this store of particulars has been set out duly and in orderbefore our eyes, we are not to pass at once to the investigation and discoveryof new particulars or works; or at any rate if we do so we must not stop there.For although I do not deny that when all the experiments of all the arts shallhave been collected and digested, and brought within one man's knowledge andjudgment, the mere transferring of the experiments of one art to others maylead, by means of that experience which I term literate, to the discovery ofmany new things of service to the life and state of man, yet it is no greatmatter that can be hoped from that; but from the new light of axioms, whichhaving been educed from those particulars by a certain method and rule, shallin their turn point out the way again to new particulars, greater things may belooked for. For our road does not lie on a level, but ascends and descends;first ascending to axioms, then descending to works.
CIV
The understanding must not, however, be allowed to jump and fly fromparticulars to axioms remote and of almost the highest generality (such as thefirst principles, as they are called, of arts and things), and taking standupon them as truths that cannot be shaken, proceed to prove and frame themiddle axioms by reference to them; which has been the practice hitherto, theunderstanding being not only carried that way by a natural impulse, but also bythe use of syllogistic demonstration trained and inured to it. But then, andthen only, may we hope well of the sciences when in a just scale of ascent, andby successive steps not interrupted or broken, we rise from particulars tolesser axioms; and then to middle axioms, one above the other; and last of allto the most general. For the lowest axioms differ but slightly from bareexperience, while the highest and most general (which we now have) are notionaland abstract and without solidity. But the middle are the true and solid andliving axioms, on which depend the affairs and fortunes of men; and above themagain, last of all, those which are indeed the most general; such, I mean, asare not abstract, but of which those intermediate axioms are reallylimitations.
The understanding must not therefore be supplied with wings, but ratherhung with weights, to keep it from leaping and flying. Now this has never yetbeen done; when it is done, we may entertain better hopes of the sciences.
CV
In establishing axioms, another form of induction must be devised thanhas hitherto been employed, and it must be used for proving and discovering notfirst principles (as they are called) only, but also the lesser axioms, and themiddle, and indeed all. For the induction which proceeds by simple enumerationis childish; its conclusions are precarious and exposed to peril from acontradictory instance; and it generally decides on too small a number offacts, and on those only which are at hand. But the induction which is to beavailable for the discovery and demonstration of sciences and arts, mustanalyze nature by proper rejections and exclusions; and then, after asufficient number of negatives, come to a conclusion on the affirmativeinstances — which has not yet been done or even attempted, save only byPlato, who does indeed employ this form of induction to a certain extent forthe purpose of discussing definitions and ideas. But in order to furnish thisinduction or demonstration well and duly for its work, very many things are tobe provided which no mortal has yet thought of; insomuch that greater laborwill have to be spent in it than has hitherto been spent on the syllogism. Andthis induction must be used not only to discover axioms, but also in theformation of notions. And it is in this induction that our chief hope lies.
CVI
But in establishing axioms by this kind of induction, we must alsoexamine and try whether the axiom so established be framed to the measure ofthose particulars only from which it is derived, or whether it be larger andwider. And if it be larger and wider, we must observe whether by indicating tous new particulars it confirm that wideness and largeness as by a collateralsecurity, that we may not either stick fast in things already known, or looselygrasp at shadows and abstract forms, not at things solid and realized inmatter. And when this process shall have come into use, then at last shall wesee the dawn of a solid hope.
CVII
And here also should be remembered what was said above concerning theextending of the range of natural philosophy to take in the particularsciences, and the referring or bringing back of the particular sciences tonatural philosophy, that the branches of knowledge may not be severed and cutoff from the stem. For without this the hope of progress will not be sogood.
CVIII
So much then for the removing of despair and the raising of hope throughthe dismissal or rectification of the errors of past time. We must now see whatelse there is to ground hope upon. And this consideration occurs at once —that if many useful discoveries have been made by accident or upon occasion,when men were not seeking for them but were busy about other things, no one candoubt but that when they apply themselves to seek and make this their business,and that too by method and in order and not by desultory impulses, they willdiscover far more. For although it may happen once or twice that a man shallstumble on a thing by accident which, when taking great pains to search for it,he could not find, yet upon the whole it unquestionably falls out the otherway. And therefore far better things, and more of them, and at shorterintervals, are to be expected from man's reason and industry and direction andfixed application than from accident and animal instinct and the like, in whichinventions have hitherto had their origin.
CIX
Another argument of hope may be drawn from this — that some of theinventions already known are such as before they were discovered it couldhardly have entered any man's head to think of; they would have been simply setaside as impossible. For in conjecturing what may be men set before them theexample of what has been, and divine of the new with an imagination preoccupiedand colored by the old; which way of forming opinions is very fallacious, forstreams that are drawn from the springheads of nature do not always run in theold channels.
If, for instance, before the invention of ordnance, a man had describedthe thing by its effects, and said that there was a new invention by means ofwhich the strongest towers and walls could be shaken and thrown down at a greatdistance, men would doubtless have begun to think over all the ways ofmultiplying the force of catapults and mechanical engines by weights and wheelsand such machinery for ramming and projecting; but the notion of a fiery blastsuddenly and violently expanding and exploding would hardly have entered intoany man's imagination or fancy, being a thing to which nothing immediatelyanalogous had been seen, except perhaps in an earthquake or in lightning, whichasmagnalia or marvels of nature, and by man not imitable, would havebeen immediately rejected.
In the same way, if, before the discovery of silk, anyone had said thatthere was a kind of thread discovered for the purposes of dress and furniturewhich far surpassed the thread of linen or of wool in fineness and at the sametime in strength, and also in beauty and softness, men would have begunimmediately to think of some silky kind of vegetable, or of the finer hair ofsome animal, or of the feathers and down of birds; but a web woven by a tinyworm, and that in such abundance, and renewing itself yearly, they wouldassuredly never have thought. Nay, if anyone had said anything about a worm, hewould no doubt have been laughed at as dreaming of a new kind of cobwebs.
So again, if, before the discovery of the magnet, anyone had said that acertain instrument had been invented by means of which the quarters and pointsof the heavens could be taken and distinguished with exactness, men would havebeen carried by their imagination to a variety of conjectures concerning themore exquisite construction of astronomical instruments; but that anythingcould be discovered agreeing so well in its movements with the heavenly bodies,and yet not a heavenly body itself, but simply a substance of metal or stone,would have been judged altogether incredible. Yet these things and others likethem lay for so many ages of the world concealed from men, nor was it byphilosophy or the rational arts that they were found out at last, but byaccident and occasion, being indeed, as I said, altogether different in kindand as remote as possible from anything that was known before; so that nopreconceived notion could possibly have led to the discovery of them.
There is therefore much ground for hoping that there are still laid upin the womb of nature many secrets of excellent use, having no affinity orparallelism with anything that is now known, but lying entirely out of the beatof the imagination, which have not yet been found out. They too no doubt willsome time or other, in the course and revolution of many ages, come to light ofthemselves, just as the others did; only by the method of which we are nowtreating they can be speedily and suddenly and simultaneously presented andanticipated.
CX
But we have also discoveries to show of another kind, which prove thatnoble inventions may be lying at our very feet, and yet mankind may step overwithout seeing them. For however the discovery of gunpowder, of silk, of themagnet, of sugar, of paper, or the like, may seem to depend on certainproperties of things themselves and nature, there is at any rate nothing in theart of printing which is not plain and obvious. Nevertheless for want ofobserving that although it is more difficult to arrange types of letters thanto write letters by the motion of the hand, there is yet this differencebetween the two, that types once arranged serve for innumerable impressions,but letters written with the hand for a single copy only; or perhaps again forwant of observing that ink can be so thickened as to color without running(particularly when the letters face upwards and the impression is made fromabove) — for want, I say, of observing these things, men went for so manyages without this most beautiful discovery, which is of so much service in thepropagation of knowledge.
But such is the infelicity and unhappy disposition of the human mind inthis course of invention, that it first distrusts and then despises itself:first will not believe that any such thing can be found out; and when it isfound out, cannot understand how the world should have missed it so long. Andthis very thing may be justly taken as an argument of hope, namely, that thereis a great mass of inventions still remaining which not only by means ofoperations that are yet to be discovered, but also through the transferring,comparing, and applying of those already known, by the help of that learnedexperience of which I spoke, may be deduced and brought to light.
CXI
There is another ground of hope that must not be omitted. Let men butthink over their infinite expenditure of understanding, time, and means onmatters and pursuits of far less use and value; whereof, if but a small partwere directed to sound and solid studies, there is no difficulty that might notbe overcome. This I thought good to add, because I plainly confess that acollection of history natural and experimental, such as I conceive it and as itought to be, is a great, I may say a royal work, and of much labor andexpense.
CXII
Meantime, let no man be alarmed at the multitude of particulars, but letthis rather encourage him to hope. For the particular phenomena of art andnature are but a handful to the inventions of the wit, when disjoined andseparated from the evidence of things. Moreover, this road has an issue in theopen ground and not far off; the other has no issue at all, but endlessentanglement. For men hitherto have made but short stay with experience, butpassing her lightly by, have wasted an infinity of time on meditations andglosses of the wit. But if someone were by that could answer our questions andtell us in each case what the fact in nature is, the discovery of all causesand sciences would be but the work of a few years.
CXIII
Moreover, I think that men may take some hope from my own example. Andthis I say not by way of boasting, but because it is useful to say it. If therebe any that despond, let them look at me, that being of all men of my time themost busied in affairs of state, and a man of health not very strong (wherebymuch time is lost), and in this course altogether a pioneer, following in noman's track nor sharing these counsels with anyone, have nevertheless byresolutely entering on the true road, and submitting my mind to Things,advanced these matters, as I suppose, some little way. And then let themconsider what may be expected (after the way has been thus indicated) from menabounding in leisure, and from association of labors, and from successions ofages — the rather because it is not a way over which only one man can passat a time (as is the case with that of reasoning), but one in which the laborsand industries of men (especially as regards the collecting of experience) maywith the best effect be first distributed and then combined. For then only willmen begin to know their strength when instead of great numbers doing all thesame things, one shall take charge of one thing and another of another.
CXIV
Lastly, even if the breath of hope which blows on us from that NewContinent were fainter than it is and harder to perceive, yet the trial (if wewould not bear a spirit altogether abject) must by all means be made. For thereis no comparison between that which we may lose by not trying and by notsucceeding, since by not trying we throw away the chance of an immense good; bynot succeeding we only incur the loss of a little human labor. But as it is, itappears to me from what has been said, and also from what has been left unsaid,that there is hope enough and to spare, not only to make a bold man try, butalso to make a sober-minded and wise man believe.
CXV
Concerning the grounds then for putting away despair, which has been oneof the most powerful causes of delay and hindrance to the progress ofknowledge, I have now spoken. And this also concludes what I had to saytouching the signs and causes of the errors, sluggishness, and ignorance whichhave prevailed; especially since the more subtle causes, which do not fallunder popular judgment and observation, must be referred to what has been saidon the Idols of the human mind.
And here likewise should close that part of my Instauration which isdevoted to pulling down, which part is performed by three refutations: first,by the refutation of thenatural human reason, left to itself; secondly,by the refutation of thedemonstrations; and thirdly, by the refutationof thetheories, or the received systems of philosophy and doctrine. Andthe refutation of these has been such as alone it could be: that is to say, bysigns and the evidence of causes, since no other kind of confutation was opento me, differing as I do from the others both on first principles and on rulesof demonstration.
It is time therefore to proceed to the art itself and rule ofinterpreting nature. Still, however, there remains something to be premised.For whereas in this first book of aphorisms I proposed to prepare men's mindsas well for understanding as for receiving what is to follow, now that I havepurged and swept and leveled the floor of the mind, it remains that I place themind in a good position and as it were in a favorable aspect toward what I haveto lay before it. For in a new matter it is not only the strong preoccupationof some old opinion that tends to create a prejudice, but also a falsepreconception or prefiguration of the new thing which is presented. I willendeavor therefore to impart sound and true opinions as to the things Ipropose, although they are to serve only for the time, and by way of interest(so to speak), till the thing itself, which is the principal, be fullyknown.
CXVI
First, then, I must request men not to suppose that after the fashion ofancient Greeks, and of certain moderns, as Telesius, Patricius, Severinus, Iwish to found a new sect in philosophy. For this is not what I am about, nor doI think that it matters much to the fortunes of men what abstract notions onemay entertain concerning nature and the principles of things. And no doubt manyold theories of this kind can be revived and many new ones introduced, just asmany theories of the heavens may be supposed which agree well enough with thephenomena and yet differ with each other.
But for my part I do not trouble myself with any such speculative andwithal unprofitable matters. My purpose, on the contrary, is to try whether Icannot in very fact lay more firmly the foundations and extend more widely thelimits of the power and greatness of man. And although on some special subjectsand in an incomplete form I am in possession of results which I take to be farmore true and more certain and withal more fruitful than those now received(and these I have collected into the fifth part of my Instauration), yet I haveno entire or universal theory to propound. For it does not seem that the timeis come for such an attempt. Neither can I hope to live to complete the sixthpart of the Instauration (which is destined for the philosophy discovered bythe legitimate interpretation of nature), but hold it enough if in theintermediate business I bear myself soberly and profitably, sowing in themeantime for future ages the seeds of a purer truth, and performing my parttoward the commencement of the great undertaking.
CXVII
And as I do not seek to found a school, so neither do I hold out offersor promises of particular works. It may be thought, indeed, that I who makesuch frequent mention of works and refer everything to that end, should producesome myself by way of earnest. But my course and method, as I have oftenclearly stated and would wish to state again, is this — not to extractworks from works or experiments from experiments (as an empiric), but fromworks and experiments to extract causes and axioms, and again from those causesand axioms new works and experiments, as a legitimate interpreter of nature.And although in my tables of discovery (which compose the fourth part of theInstauration), and also in the examples of particulars (which I have adduced inthe second part), and moreover in my observations on the history (which I havedrawn out in the third part), any reader of even moderate sagacity andintelligence will everywhere observe indications and outlines of many nobleworks; still I candidly confess that the natural history which I now have,whether collected from books or from my own investigations, is neithersufficiently copious nor verified with sufficient accuracy to serve thepurposes of legitimate interpretation.
Accordingly, if there be anyone more apt and better prepared formechanical pursuits, and sagacious in hunting out works by the mere dealingwith experiment, let him by all means use his industry to gather from myhistory and tables many things by the way, and apply them to the production ofworks, which may serve as interest until the principal be forthcoming. But formyself, aiming as I do at greater things, I condemn all unseasonable andpremature tarrying over such things as these, being (as I often say) likeAtalanta's balls. For I do not run off like a child after golden apples, butstake all on the victory of art over nature in the race. Nor do I make haste tomow down the moss or the corn in blade, but wait for the harvest in its dueseason.
CXVIII
There will be found, no doubt, when ray history and tables of discoveryare read, some things in the experiments themselves that are not quite certain,or perhaps that are quite false, which may make a man think that thefoundations and principles upon which my discoveries rest are false anddoubtful. But this is of no consequence, for such things must needs happen atfirst. It is only like the occurrence in a written or printed page of a letteror two mistaken or misplaced, which does not much hinder the reader, becausesuch errors are easily corrected by the sense. So likewise may there occur inmy natural history many experiments which are mistaken and falsely set down,and yet they will presently, by the discovery of causes and axioms, be easilyexpunged and rejected. It is nevertheless true that if the mistakes in naturalhistory and experiments are important, frequent, and continual, they cannotpossibly be corrected or amended by any felicity of wit or art. And therefore,if in my natural history, which has been collected and tested with so muchdiligence, severity, and I may say religious care, there still lurk atintervals certain falsities or errors in the particulars, what is to be said ofcommon natural history, which in comparison with mine is so negligent andinexact? And what of the philosophy and sciences built on such a sand (orrather quicksand)? Let no man therefore trouble himself for this.
CXIX
There will be met with also in my history and experiments many thingswhich are trivial and commonly known; many which are mean and low; many,lastly, which are too subtle and merely speculative, and that seem to be of nouse; which kind of things may possibly avert and alienate men's interest.
And first, for those things which seem common. Let men bear in mind thathitherto they have been accustomed to do no more than refer and adapt thecauses of things which rarely happen to such as happen frequently, while ofthose which happen frequently they never ask the cause, but take them as theyare for granted. And therefore they do not investigate the causes of weight, ofthe rotation of heavenly bodies, of heat, cold, light, hardness, softness,rarity, density, liquidity, solidity, animation, inanimation, similarity,dissimilarity, organization, and the like; but admitting these as self-evidentand obvious, they dispute and decide on other things of less frequent andfamiliar occurrence.
But I, who am well aware that no judgment can be passed on uncommon orremarkable things, much less anything new brought to light, unless the causesof common things, and the causes of those causes, be first duly examined andfound out, am of necessity compelled to admit the commonest things into myhistory. Nay, in my judgment philosophy has been hindered by nothing more thanthis, that things of familiar and frequent occurrence do not arrest and detainthe thoughts of men, but are received in passing without any inquiry into theircauses; insomuch that information concerning things which are not known is notoftener wanted than attention concerning things which are.
CXX
And for things that are mean or even filthy — things which (asPliny says) must be introduced with an apology — such things, no less thanthe most splendid and costly, must be admitted into natural history. Nor isnatural history polluted thereby, for the sun enters the sewer no less than thepalace, yet takes no pollution. And for myself, I am not raising a capitol orpyramid to the pride of man, but laying a foundation in the human understandingfor a holy temple after the model of the world. That model therefore I follow.For whatever deserves to exist deserves also to be known, for knowledge is theimage of existence; and things mean and splendid exist alike. Moreover, as fromcertain putrid substances — musk, for instance, and civet — thesweetest odors are sometimes generated, so, too, from mean and sordid instancesthere sometimes emanates excellent light and information. But enough and morethan enough of this, such fastidiousness being merely childish andeffeminate.
CXXI
But there is another objection which must be more carefully looked to,namely, that there are many things in this History which to commonapprehension, or indeed to any understanding accustomed to the present system,will seem to be curiously and unprofitably subtle. Upon this point, therefore,above all I must say again what I have said already: that at first, and for atime, I am seeking for experiments of light, not for experiments of fruit,following therein, as I have often said, the example of the divine creationwhich on the first day produced light only, and assigned to it alone one entireday, nor mixed up with it on that day any material work.
To suppose, therefore, that things like these are of no use is the sameas to suppose that light is of no use, because it is not a thing solid ormaterial. And the truth is that the knowledge of simple natures well examinedand defined is as light: it gives entrance to all the secrets of nature'sworkshop, and virtually includes and draws after it whole bands and troops ofworks, and opens to us the sources of the noblest axioms; and yet in itself itis of no great use. So also the letters of the alphabet in themselves and aparthave no use or meaning, yet they are the subject matter for the composition andapparatus of all discourse. So again the seeds of things are of much latentvirtue, and yet of no use except in their development. And the scattered raysof light itself, until they are made to converge, can impart none of theirbenefit.
But if objection be taken to speculative subtleties, what is to be saidof the schoolmen, who have indulged in subtleties to such excess — insubtleties, too, that were spent on words, or at any rate on popular notions(which is much the same thing), not on facts or nature; and such as wereuseless not only in their origin but also in their consequences; and not likethose I speak of, useless indeed for the present, but promising infiniteutility hereafter. But let men be assured of this, that all subtlety ofdisputation and discourse, if not applied till after axioms are discovered, isout of season and preposterous, and that the true and proper or at any rate thechief time for subtlety is in weighing experience and in founding axiomsthereon. For that other subtlety, though it grasps and snatches at nature, yetcan never take hold of her. Certainly what is said of opportunity or fortune ismost true of nature: she has a lock in front, but is bald behind.
Lastly, concerning the disdain to receive into natural history thingseither common, or mean, or oversubtle and in their original condition useless,the answer of the poor woman to the haughty prince who had rejected herpetition as an unworthy thing and beneath his dignity, may be taken for anoracle: "Then leave off being king." For most certain it is that he who willnot attend to things like these as being too paltry and minute, can neither winthe kingdom of nature nor govern it.
CXXII
It may be thought also a strange and a harsh thing that we should atonce and with one blow set aside all sciences and all authors; and that, too,without calling in any of the ancients to our aid and support, but relying onour own strength.
And I know that if I had chosen to deal less sincerely, I might easilyhave found authority for my suggestions by referring them either to the oldtimes before the Greeks (when natural science was perhaps more flourishing,though it made less noise, not having yet passed into the pipes and trumpets ofthe Greeks), or even, in part at least, to some of the Greeks themselves; andso gained for them both support and honor, as men of no family devise forthemselves by the good help of genealogies the nobility of a descent from someancient stock. But for my part, relying on the evidence and truth of things, Ireject all forms of fiction and imposture; nor do I think that it matters anymore to the business in hand whether the discoveries that shall now be madewere long ago known to the ancients, and have their settings and their risingsaccording to the vicissitude of things and course of ages, than it matters tomankind whether the new world be that island of Atlantis with which theancients were acquainted, or now discovered for the first time. For newdiscoveries must be sought from the light of nature, not fetched back out ofthe darkness of antiquity.
And as for the universality of the censure, certainly if the matter betruly considered such a censure is not only more probable but more modest, too,than a partial one would be. For if the errors had not been rooted in primarynotions, there must have been some true discoveries to correct the false. Butthe errors being fundamental, and not so much of false judgment as ofinattention and oversight, it is no wonder that men have not obtained what theyhave not tried for, nor reached a mark which they never set up, nor finished acourse which they never entered on or kept.
And as for the presumption implied in it, certainly if a man undertakesby steadiness of hand and power of eye to describe a straighter line or moreperfect circle than anyone else, he challenges a comparison of abilities; butif he only says that he with the help of a rule or a pair of compasses can drawa straighter line or a more perfect circle than anyone else can by eye and handalone, he makes no great boast. And this remark, be it observed, applies notmerely to this first and inceptive attempt of mine, but to all that shall takethe work in hand hereafter. For my way of discovering sciences goes far tolevel men's wit and leaves but little to individual excellence, because itperforms everything by the surest rules and demonstrations. And therefore Iattribute my part in all this, as I have often said, rather to good luck thanto ability, and account it a birth of time rather than of wit. For certainlychance has something to do with men's thoughts, as well as with their works anddeeds.
CXXIII
I may say then of myself that which one said in jest (since it marks thedistinction so truly), "It cannot be that we should think alike, when onedrinks water and the other drinks wine." Now other men, as well in ancient asin modern times, have in the matter of sciences drunk a crude liquor likewater, either flowing spontaneously from the understanding, or drawn up bylogic, as by wheels from a well. Whereas I pledge mankind in a liquor strainedfrom countless grapes, from grapes ripe and fully seasoned, collected inclusters, and gathered, and then squeezed in the press, and finally purifiedand clarified in the vat. And therefore it is no wonder if they and I do notthink alike.
CXXIV
Again, it will be thought, no doubt, that the goal and mark of knowledgewhich I myself set up (the very point which I object to in others) is not thetrue or the best, for that the contemplation of truth is a thing worthier andloftier than all utility and magnitude of works; and that this long and anxiousdwelling with experience and matter and the fluctuations of individual things,drags down the mind to earth, or rather sinks it to a very Tartarus of turmoiland confusion, removing and withdrawing it from the serene tranquility ofabstract wisdom, a condition far more heavenly. Now to this I readily assent,and indeed this which they point at as so much to be preferred is the verything of all others which I am about. For I am building in the humanunderstanding a true model of the world, such as it is in fact, not such as aman's own reason would have it to be; a thing which cannot be done without avery diligent dissection and anatomy of the world. But I say that those foolishand apish images of worlds which the fancies of men have created inphilosophical systems must be utterly scattered to the winds. Be it known thenhow vast a difference there is (as I said above) between the idols of the humanmind and the ideas of the divine. The former are nothing more than arbitraryabstractions; the latter are the Creator's own stamp upon creation, impressedand defined in matter by true and exquisite lines. Truth, therefore, andutility are here the very same things;2 and works themselves are ofgreater value as pledges of truth than as contributing to the comforts oflife.
CXXV
It may be thought again that I am but doing what has been done before;that the ancients themselves took the same course which I am now taking; andthat it is likely therefore that I too, after all this stir and striving, shallcome at last to some one of those systems which prevailed in ancient times. Forthe ancients, too, it will be said, provided at the outset of theirspeculations a great store and abundance of examples and particulars, digestedthe same into notebooks under heads and titles, from them completed theirsystems and arts, and afterward, when they understood the matter, publishedthem to the world, adding a few examples here and there for proof andillustration; but thought it superfluous and inconvenient to publish theirnotes and minutes and digests of particulars, and therefore did as builders do:after the house was built they removed the scaffolding and ladders out ofsight. And so no doubt they did. But this objection (or scruple rather) will beeasily answered by anyone who has not quite forgotten what I have said above.For the form of inquiry and discovery that was in use among the ancients is bythemselves professed and appears on the very face of their writings. And thatform was simply this. From a few examples and particulars (with the addition ofcommon notions and perhaps of some portion of the received opinions which havebeen most popular) they flew at once to the most general conclusions, or firstprinciples of science. Taking the truth of these as fixed and immovable, theyproceeded by means of intermediate propositions to educe and prove from themthe inferior conclusions; and out of these they framed the art. After that, ifany new particulars and examples repugnant to their dogmas were mooted andadduced, either they subtly molded them into their system by distinctions orexplanations of their rules, or else coarsely got rid of them by exceptions;while to such particulars as were not repugnant they labored to assign causesin conformity with those of their principles. But this was not the naturalhistory and experience that was wanted; far from it. And besides, that flyingoff to the highest generalities ruined all.
2 Ipsissimæ res. I think this must have beenBacon's meaning, though not a meaning which the word can properly bear. —J. S.
CXXVI
It will also be thought that by forbidding men to pronounce and to setdown principles as established until they have duly arrived through theintermediate steps at the highest generalities, I maintain a sort of suspensionof the judgment, and bring it to what the Greeks callAcatalepsia —a denial of the capacity of the mind to comprehend truth. But in reality thatwhich I meditate and propound is notAcatalepsia, butEucatalepsia; not denial of the capacity to understand, but provisionfor understanding truly. For I do not take away authority from the senses, butsupply them with helps; I do not slight the understanding, but govern it. Andbetter surely it is that we should know all we need to know, and yet think ourknowledge imperfect, than that we should think our knowledge perfect, and yetnot know anything we need to know.
CXXVII
It may also be asked (in the way of doubt rather than objection) whetherI speak of natural philosophy only, or whether I mean that the other sciences,logic, ethics, and politics, should be carried on by this method. Now Icertainly mean what I have said to be understood of them all; and as the commonlogic, which governs by the syllogism, extends not only to natural but to allsciences, so does mine also, which proceeds by induction, embrace everything.For I form a history and table of discovery for anger, fear, shame, and thelike; for matters political; and again for the mental operations of memory,composition and division, judgment, and the rest; not less than for heat andcold, or light, or vegetation, or the like. But, nevertheless, since my methodof interpretation, after the history has been prepared and duly arranged,regards not the working and discourse of the mind only (as the common logicdoes) but the nature of things also, I supply the mind such rules and guidancethat it may in every case apply itself aptly to the nature of things. Andtherefore I deliver many and diverse precepts in the doctrine ofinterpretation, which in some measure modify the method of invention accordingto the quality and condition of the subject of the inquiry.
CXXVIII
On one point not even a doubt ought to be entertained, namely, whether Idesire to pull down and destroy the philosophy and arts and sciences which areat present in use. So far from that, I am most glad to see them used,cultivated, and honored. There is no reason why the arts which are now infashion should not continue to supply matter for disputation and ornaments fordiscourse, to be employed for the convenience of professors and men ofbusiness, to be, in short, like current coin, which passes among men byconsent. Nay, I frankly declare that what I am introducing will be but littlefitted for such purposes as these, since it cannot be brought down to commonapprehension save by effects and works only. But how sincere I am in myprofessions of affection and good will toward the received sciences, mypublished writings, especially the books on the advancement of learning,sufficiently show; and therefore I will not attempt to prove it further bywords. Meanwhile I give constant and distinct warning that by the methods nowin use neither can any great progress be made in the doctrines andcontemplative part of sciences, nor can they be carried out to any magnitude ofworks.
CXXIX
It remains for me to say a few words touching the excellency of the endin view. Had they been uttered earlier, they might have seemed like idlewishes, but now that hopes have been raised and unfair prejudices removed, theymay perhaps have greater weight. Also if I had finished all myself, and had nooccasion to call in others to help and take part in the work, I should even nowhave abstained from such language lest it might be taken as a proclamation ofmy own deserts. But since I want to quicken the industry and rouse and kindlethe zeal of others, it is fitting that I put men in mind of some things.
In the first place, then, the introduction of famous discoveries appearsto hold by far the first place among human actions; and this was the judgmentof the former ages. For to the authors of inventions they awarded divinehonors, while to those who did good service in the state (such as founders ofcities and empires, legislators, saviors of their country from long enduredevils, quellers of tyrannies, and the like) they decreed no higher honors thanheroic. And certainly if a man rightly compare the two, he will find that thisjudgment of antiquity was just. For the benefits of discoveries may extend tothe whole race of man, civil benefits only to particular places; the latterlast not beyond a few ages, the former through all time. Moreover, thereformation of a state in civil matters is seldom brought in without violenceand confusion; but discoveries carry blessings with them, and confer benefitswithout causing harm or sorrow to any.
Again, discoveries are as it were new creations, and imitations of God'sworks, as the poet well sang:
To man's frail race great Athens long ago
First gave the seedwhence waving harvests grow,
Andre-created all our lifebelow.
And it appears worthy of remark in Solomon that, though mighty in empireand in gold, in the magnificence of his works, his court, his household, andhis fleet, in the luster of his name and the worship of mankind, yet he tooknone of these to glory in, but pronounced that "The glory of God is to conceala thing; the glory of the king to search it out."
Again, let a man only consider what a difference there is between thelife of men in the most civilized province of Europe, and in the wildest andmost barbarous districts of New India; he will feel it be great enough tojustify the saying that "man is a god to man," not only in regard to aid andbenefit, but also by a comparison of condition. And this difference comes notfrom soil, not from climate, not from race, but from the arts.
Again, it is well to observe the force and virtue and consequences ofdiscoveries, and these are to be seen nowhere more conspicuously than in thosethree which were unknown to the ancients, and of which the origin, thoughrecent, is obscure and inglorious; namely, printing, gunpowder, and the magnet.For these three have changed the whole face and state of things throughout theworld; the first in literature, the second in warfare, the third in navigation;whence have followed innumerable changes, insomuch that no empire, no sect, nostar seems to have exerted greater power and influence in human affairs thanthese mechanical discoveries.
Further, it will not be amiss to distinguish the three kinds and, as itwere, grades of ambition in mankind. The first is of those who desire to extendtheir own power in their native country, a vulgar and degenerate kind. Thesecond is of those who labor to extend the power and dominion of their countryamong men. This certainly has more dignity, though not less covetousness. Butif a man endeavor to establish and extend the power and dominion of the humanrace itself over the universe, his ambition (if ambition it can be called) iswithout doubt both a more wholesome and a more noble thing than the other two.Now the empire of man over things depends wholly on the arts and sciences. Forwe cannot command nature except by obeying her.
Again, if men have thought so much of some one particular discovery asto regard him as more than man who has been able by some benefit to make thewhole human race his debtor, how much higher a thing to discover that by meansof which all things else shall be discovered with ease! And yet (to speak thewhole truth), as the uses of light are infinite in enabling us to walk, to plyour arts, to read, to recognize one another — and nevertheless the verybeholding of the light is itself a more excellent and a fairer thing than allthe uses of it — so assuredly the very contemplation of things as theyare, without superstition or imposture, error or confusion, is in itself moreworthy than all the fruit of inventions.
Lastly, if the debasement of arts and sciences to purposes ofwickedness, luxury, and the like, be made a ground of objection, let no one bemoved thereby. For the same may be said of all earthly goods: of wit, courage,strength, beauty, wealth, light itself, and the rest. Only let the human racerecover that right over nature which belongs to it by divine bequest, and letpower be given it; the exercise thereof will be governed by sound reason andtrue religion.
CXXX
And now it is time for me to propound the art itself of interpretingnature, in which, although I conceive that I have given true and most usefulprecepts, yet I do not say either that it is absolutely necessary (as ifnothing could be done without it) or that it is perfect. For I am of theopinion that if men had ready at hand a just history of nature and experience,and labored diligently thereon, and if they could bind themselves to two rules— the first, to lay aside received opinions and notions; and the second,to refrain the mind for a time from the highest generalizations, and those nextto them — they would be able by the native and genuine force of the mind,without any other art, to fall into my form of interpretation. Forinterpretation is the true and natural work of the mind when freed fromimpediments. It is true, however, that by my precepts everything will be inmore readiness, and much more sure.
Nor again do I mean to say that no improvement can be made upon these.On the contrary, I regard that the mind, not only in its own faculties, but inits connection with things, must needs hold that the art of discovery mayadvance as discoveries advance.
APHORISMS
[BOOK TWO]
I
On a given body, to generate and superinduce a new nature or new naturesis the work and aim of human power. Of a given nature to discover the form, ortrue specific difference, or nature-engendering nature, or source of emanation(for these are the terms which come nearest to a description of the thing), isthe work and aim of human knowledge. Subordinate to these primary works are twoothers that are secondary and of inferior mark: to the former, thetransformation of concrete bodies, so far as this is possible; to the latter,the discovery, in every case of generation and motion, of thelatentprocess carried on from the manifest efficient and the manifest material tothe form which is engendered; and in like manner the discovery of thelatentconfiguration of bodies at rest and not in motion.
II
In what an ill condition human knowledge is at the present time isapparent even from the commonly received maxims. It is a correct position that"true knowledge is knowledge by causes." And causes again are not improperlydistributed into four kinds: the material, the formal, the efficient, and thefinal. But of these the final cause rather corrupts than advances the sciences,except such as have to do with human action. The discovery of the formal isdespaired of. The efficient and the material (as they are investigated andreceived, that is, as remote causes, without reference to the latent processleading to the form) are but slight and superficial, and contribute little, ifanything, to true and active science. Nor have I forgotten that in a formerpassage I noted and corrected as an error of the human mind the opinion thatforms give existence. For though in nature nothing really exists besidesindividual bodies, performing pure individual acts according to a fixed law,yet in philosophy this very law, and the investigation, discovery, andexplanation of it, is the foundation as well of knowledge as of operation. Andit is this law with its clauses that I mean when I speak offorms, aname which I the rather adopt because it has grown into use and becomefamiliar.
III
If a man be acquainted with the cause of any nature (as whiteness orheat) in certain subjects only, his knowledge is imperfect; and if he be ableto superinduce an effect on certain substances only (of those susceptible ofsuch effect), his power is in like manner imperfect. Now if a man's knowledgebe confined to the efficient and material causes (which are unstable causes,and merely vehicles, or causes which convey the form in certain cases) he mayarrive at new discoveries in reference to substances in some degree similar toone another, and selected beforehand; but he does not touch the deeperboundaries of things. But whosoever is acquainted with forms embraces the unityof nature in substances the most unlike, and is able therefore to detect andbring to light things never yet done, and such as neither the vicissitudes ofnature, nor industry in experimenting, nor accident itself, would ever havebrought into act, and which would never have occurred to the thought of man.From the discovery of forms therefore results truth in speculation and freedomin operation.
IV
Although the roads to human power and to human knowledge lie closetogether and are nearly the same, nevertheless, on account of the perniciousand inveterate habit of dwelling on abstractions it is safer to begin and raisethe sciences from those foundations which have relation to practice, and to letthe active part itself be as the seal which prints and determines thecontemplative counterpart. We must therefore consider, if a man wanted togenerate and superinduce any nature upon a given body, what kind of rule ordirection or guidance he would most wish for, and express the same in thesimplest and least abstruse language. For instance, if a man wishes tosuperinduce upon silver that yellow color of gold or an increase of weight(observing the laws of matter), or transparency on an opaque stone, or tenacityon glass, or vegetation on some substance that is not vegetable — we mustconsider, I say, what kind of rule or guidance he would most desire. And in thefirst place, he will undoubtedly wish to be directed to something which willnot deceive him in the result nor fail him in the trial. Secondly, he will wishfor such a rule as shall not tie him down to certain means and particular modesof operation. For perhaps he may not have those means, nor be able convenientlyto procure them. And if there be other means and other methods for producingthe required nature (besides the one prescribed) these may perhaps be withinhis reach; and yet he shall be excluded by the narrowness of the rule, and getno good from them. Thirdly, he will desire something to be shown him, which isnot as difficult as the thing proposed to be done, but comes nearer topractice.
For a true and perfect rule of operation, then, the direction will bethat it be certain, free, and disposing or leading to action. And thisis the same thing with the discovery of the true form. For the form of a natureis such, that given the form, the nature infallibly follows. Therefore it isalways present when the nature is present, and universally implies it, and isconstantly inherent in it. Again, the form is such that if it be taken away thenature infallibly vanishes. Therefore it is always absent when the nature isabsent, and implies its absence, and inheres in nothing else. Lastly, the trueform is such that it deduces the given nature from some source of being whichis inherent in more natures, and which is better known in the natural order ofthings than the form itself. For a true and perfect axiom of knowledge, then,the direction and precept will be,that another nature be discovered whichis convertible with the given nature and yet is a limitation of a more generalnature, as of a true and real genus. Now these two directions, the oneactive the other contemplative, are one and the same thing; and what inoperation is most useful, that in knowledge is most true.
V
The rule or axiom for the transformation of bodies is of two kinds. Thefirst regards a body as a troop or collection of simple natures. In gold, forexample, the following properties meet. It is yellow in color, heavy up to acertain weight, malleable or ductile to a certain degree of extension; it isnot volatile and loses none of its substance by the action of fire; it turnsinto a liquid with a certain degree of fluidity; it is separated and dissolvedby particular means; and so on for the other natures which meet in gold. Thiskind of axiom, therefore, deduces the thing from the forms of simple natures.For he who knows the forms of yellow, weight, ductility, fixity, fluidity,solution, and so on, and the methods for superinducing them and theirgradations and modes, will make it his care to have them joined together insome body, whence may follow the transformation of that body into gold. Andthis kind of operation pertains to the first kind of action. For the principleof generating some one simple nature is the same as that of generating many;only that a man is more fettered and tied down in operation, if more arerequired, by reason of the difficulty of combining into one so many natureswhich do not readily meet, except in the beaten and ordinary paths of nature.It must be said, however, that this mode of operation (which looks to simplenatures though in a compound body) proceeds from what in nature is constant andeternal and universal, and opens broad roads to human power, such as (in thepresent state of things) human thought can scarcely comprehend oranticipate.
The second kind of axiom, which is concerned with the discovery of thelatent process, proceeds not by simple natures, but by compound bodies,as they are found in nature in its ordinary course. As, for instance, wheninquiry is made from what beginnings, and by what method and by what process,gold or any other metal or stone is generated, from its first menstrua andrudiments up to the perfect mineral; or in like manner, by what process herbsare generated, from the first concretion of juices in the ground or from seedsup to the formed plant, with all the successive motions and diverse andcontinued efforts of nature. So also in the inquiry concerning the process ofdevelopment in the generation of animals, from coition to birth; and in likemanner of other bodies.
It is not however only to the generations of bodies that thisinvestigation extends, but also to other motions and operations of nature. As,for instance, when inquiry is made concerning the whole course and continuedaction of nutrition, from the first reception of the food to its completeassimilation; or again, concerning the voluntary motion of animals from thefirst impression on the imagination and the continued efforts of the spirit upto the bendings and movements of the limbs; or concerning the motion of thetongue and lips and other instruments, and the changes through which it passestill it comes to the utterance of articulate sounds. For these inquiries alsorelate to natures concrete or combined into one structure, and have regard towhat may be called particular and special habits of nature, not to herfundamental and universal laws which constitute forms. And yet it must beconfessed that this plan appears to be readier and to lie nearer at hand and togive more ground for hope than the primary one.
In like manner the operative which answers to this speculative part,starting from the ordinary incidents of nature, extends its operation to thingsimmediately adjoining, or at least not far removed. But as for any profound andradical operations on nature, they depend entirely on the primary axioms. Andin those things too where man has no means of operating, but only of knowing,as in the heavenly bodies (for these he cannot operate upon or change ortransform), the investigation of the fact itself or truth of the thing, no lessthan the knowledge of the causes and consents, must come from those primary andcatholic axioms concerning simple natures, such as the nature of spontaneousrotation, of attraction or magnetism, and of many others which are of a moregeneral form than the heavenly bodies themselves. For let no one hope to decidethe question whether it is the earth or heaven that really revolves in thediurnal motion until he has first comprehended the nature of spontaneousrotation.
VI
But this latent process of which I speak is quite another thing thanmen, preoccupied as their minds now are, will easily conceive. For what Iunderstand by it is not certain measures or signs or successive steps ofprocess in bodies, which can be seen; but a process perfectly continuous, whichfor the most part escapes the sense.
For instance: in all generation and transformation of bodies, we mustinquire what is lost and escapes; what remains, what is added; what isexpanded, what contracted; what is united, what separated; what is continued,what cut off; what propels, what hinders; what predominates, what yields; and avariety of other particulars.
Again, not only in the generation or transformation of bodies are thesepoints to be ascertained, but also in all other alterations and motions itshould in like manner be inquired what goes before, what comes after; what isquicker, what more tardy; what produces, what governs motion; and like points;all which nevertheless in the present state of the sciences (the texture ofwhich is as rude as possible and good for nothing) are unknown and unhandled.For seeing that every natural action depends on things infinitely small, or atleast too small to strike the sense, no one can hope to govern or change natureuntil he has duly comprehended and observed them.
VII
In like manner the investigation and discovery of thelatentconfiguration in bodies is a new thing, no less than the discovery of thelatent process and of the form. For as yet we are but lingering in the outercourts of nature, nor are we preparing ourselves a way into her inner chambers.Yet no one can endow a given body with a new nature, or successfully and aptlytransmute it into a new body, unless he has attained a competent knowledge ofthe body so to be altered or transformed. Otherwise he will run into methodswhich, if not useless, are at any rate difficult and perverse and unsuitable tothe nature of the body on which he is operating. It is clear therefore that tothis also a way must be opened and laid out.
And it is true that upon the anatomy of organized bodies (as of man andanimals) some pains have been well bestowed and with good effect; and a subtlething it seems to be, and a good scrutiny of nature. Yet this kind of anatomyis subject to sight and sense, and has place only in organized bodies. Andbesides it is a thing obvious and easy, when compared with the true anatomy ofthe latent configuration in bodies which are thought to be of uniformstructure, especially in things and their parts that have a specific character,as iron, stone; and again in parts of uniform structure in plants and animals,as the root, the leaf, the flower, flesh, blood, and bones. But even in thiskind, human industry has not been altogether wanting; for this is the verything aimed at in the separation of bodies of uniform structure by means ofdistillations and other modes of analysis; that the complex structure of thecompound may be made apparent by bringing together its several homogeneousparts. And this is of use too, and conduces to the object we are seeking,although too often fallacious in its results, because many natures which are infact newly brought out and superinduced by fire and heat and other modes ofsolution are taken to be the effect of separation merely, and to have subsistedin the compound before. And after all, this is but a small part of the work ofdiscovering the true configuration in the compound body; which configuration isa thing far more subtle and exact, and such as the operation of fire ratherconfounds than brings out and makes distinct.
Therefore a separation and solution of bodies must be effected, not byfire indeed, but by reasoning and true induction, with experiments to aid; andby a comparison with other bodies, and a reduction to simple natures and theirforms, which meet and mix in the compound. In a word, we must pass from Vulcanto Minerva if we intend to bring to light the true textures and configurationsof bodies on which all the occult and, as they are called, specific propertiesand virtues in things depend, and from which, too, the rule of every powerfulalteration and transformation is derived.
For example, we must inquire what amount of spirit there is in everybody, what of tangible essence; and of the spirit, whether it be copious andturgid, or meager and scarce; whether it be fine or coarse, akin to air or tofire, brisk or sluggish, weak or strong, progressive or retrograde, interruptedor continuous, agreeing with external and surrounding objects or disagreeing,etc. In like manner we must inquire into the tangible essence (which admits ofno fewer differences than the spirit), into its coats, its fibers, its kinds oftexture. Moreover, the disposition of the spirit throughout the corporealframe, with its pores, passages, veins and cells, and the rudiments or firstessays of the organized body, falls under the same investigation. But on theseinquiries also, and I may say on all the discovery of the latent configuration,a true and clear light is shed by the primary axioms which entirely dispelsdarkness and subtlety.
VIII
Nor shall we thus be led to the doctrine of atoms, which implies thehypothesis of a vacuum and that of the unchangeableness of matter (both falseassumptions); we shall be led only to real particles, such as really exist. Noragain is there any reason to be alarmed at the subtlety of the investigation,as if it could not be disentangled. On the contrary, the nearer it approachesto simple natures, the easier and plainer will everything become, the businessbeing transferred from the complicated to the simple; from the incommensurableto the commensurable; from surds to rational quantities; from the infinite andvague to the finite and certain; as in the case of the letters of the alphabetand the notes of music. And inquiries into nature have the best result whenthey begin with physics and end in mathematics. Again, let no one be afraid ofhigh numbers or minute fractions. For in dealing with numbers it is as easy toset down or conceive a thousand as one, or the thousandth part of an integer asan integer itself.
IX
From the two kinds of axioms which have been spoken of arises a justdivision of philosophy and the sciences, taking the received terms (which comenearest to express the thing) in a sense agreeable to my own views. Thus, letthe investigation of forms, which are (in the eye of reason at least, and intheir essential law) eternal and immutable, constituteMetaphysics; andlet the investigation of the efficient cause, and of matter, and of the latentprocess, and the latent configuration (all of which have reference to thecommon and ordinary course of nature, not to her eternal and fundamental laws)constitutePhysics. And to these let there be subordinate two practicaldivisions: to Physics,Mechanics; to Metaphysics, what (in a purer senseof the word) I callMagic, on account of the broadness of the ways itmoves in, and its greater command over nature.
X
Having thus set up the mark of knowledge, we must go on to precepts, andthat in the most direct and obvious order. Now my directions for theinterpretation of nature embrace two generic divisions: the one how to educeand form axioms from experience; the other how to deduce and derive newexperiments from axioms. The former again is divided into three ministrations:a ministration to the sense, a ministration to the memory, and a ministrationto the mind or reason.
For first of all we must prepare a natural and experimental history,sufficient and good; and this is the foundation of all, for we are not toimagine or suppose, but to discover, what nature does or may be made to do.
But natural and experimental history is so various and diffuse that itconfounds and distracts the understanding, unless it be ranged and presented toview in a suitable order. We must therefore form tables and arrangements ofinstances, in such a method and order that the understanding may be able todeal with them.
And even when this is done, still the understanding, if left to itselfand its own spontaneous movements, is incompetent and unfit to form axioms,unless it be directed and guarded. Therefore in the third place we must useinduction, true and legitimate induction, which is the very key ofinterpretation. But of this, which is the last, I must speak first, and then goback to the other ministrations.
XI
The investigation of forms proceeds thus: a nature being given, we mustfirst of all have a muster or presentation before the understanding of allknown instances which agree in the same nature, though in substances the mostunlike. And such collection must be made in the manner of a history, withoutpremature speculation, or any great amount of subtlety. For example, let theinvestigation be into the form of heat.
Instances Agreeing in the Nature of Heat
1. The rays of the sun, especially in summer and at noon.
2. The rays of the sun reflected and condensed, as between mountains, oron walls, and most of all in burning glasses and mirrors.
3. Fiery meteors.
4. Burning thunderbolts.
5. Eruptions of flame from the cavities of mountains.
6. All flame.
7. Ignited solids.
8. Natural warm baths.
9. Liquids boiling or heated.
10. Hot vapors and fumes, and the air itself, which conceives the mostpowerful and glowing heat if confined, as in reverbatory furnaces.
11. Certain seasons that are fine and cloudless by the constitution ofthe air itself, without regard to the time of year.
12. Air confined and underground in some caverns, especially inwinter.
13. All villous substances, as wool, skins of animals, and down ofbirds, have heat.
14. All bodies, whether solid or liquid, whether dense or rare (as theair itself is), held for a time near the fire.
15. Sparks struck from flint and steel by strong percussion.
16. All bodies rubbed violently, as stone, wood, cloth, etc., insomuchthat poles and axles of wheels sometimes catch fire; and the way they kindledfire in the West Indies was by attrition.
17. Green and moist vegetables confined and bruised together, as rosespacked in baskets; insomuch that hay, if damp, when stacked, often catchesfire.
18. Quicklime sprinkled with water.
19. Iron, when first dissolved by strong waters in glass, and thatwithout being put near the fire. And in like manner tin, etc., but not withequal intensity.
20. Animals, especially and at all times internally; though in insectsthe heat is not perceptible to the touch by reason of the smallness of theirsize.
21. Horse dung and like excrements of animals, when fresh.
22. Strong oil of sulphur and of vitriol has the effect of heat inburning linen.
23. Oil of marjoram and similar oils have the effect of heat in burningthe bones of the teeth.
24. Strong and well rectified spirit of wine has the effect of heat,insomuch that the white of an egg being put into it hardens and whitens almostas if it were boiled, and bread thrown in becomes dry and crusted liketoast.
25. Aromatic and hot herbs, asdracunculus, nasturtium vetus,etc., although not warm to the hand (either whole or in powder), yet to thetongue and palate, being a little masticated, they feel hot and burning.
26. Strong vinegar, and all acids, on all parts of the body where thereis no epidermis, as the eye, tongue, or on any part when wounded and laid bareof the skin, produce a pain but little differing from that which is created byheat.
27. Even keen and intense cold produces a kind of sensation of burning:"Nec Boreæ penetrabile frigus adurit."1
28. Other instances.
This table I call theTable of Essence and Presence.
l Nor burns the sharp cold of the northern blast.
XII
Secondly, we must make a presentation to the understanding of instancesin which the given nature is wanting; because the form, as stated above, oughtno less to be absent when the given nature is absent, than present when it ispresent. But to note all these would be endless.
The negatives should therefore be subjoined to the affirmatives, and theabsence of the given nature inquired of in those subjects only that are mostakin to the others in which it is present and forthcoming. This I call theTable of Deviation, or of Absence in Proximity.
Instances in Proximity where the Nature of Heat is Absent
Answering to the first affirmative instance.
1. The rays of the moon and of stars and comets are not found to be hotto the touch; indeed the severest colds are observed to be at the fullmoons.
The larger fixed stars, however, when passed or approached by the sun,are supposed to increase and give intensity to the heat of the sun, as is thecase when the sun is in the sign Leo, and in the dog days.
To the 2nd.
2. The rays of the sun in what is called the middle region of the air donot give heat; for which there is commonly assigned not a bad reason, viz.,that that region is neither near enough to the body of the sun from which therays emanate, nor to the earth from which they are reflected. And this appearsfrom the fact that on the tops of mountains, unless they are very high, thereis perpetual snow. On the other hand, it has been observed that on the Peak ofTenerife, and among the Andes of Peru, the very tops of the mountains are freefrom snow, which lies only somewhat lower down. Moreover, the air itself at thevery top is found to be by no means cold, but only rare and keen; insomuch thaton the Andes it pricks and hurts the eyes by its excessive keenness, and alsoirritates the mouth of the stomach, producing vomiting. And it was observed bythe ancients that on the top of Olympus the rarity of the air was such thatthose who ascended it had to carry sponges with them dipped in vinegar andwater, and to apply them from time to time to the mouth and nose, the air beingfrom its rarity not sufficient to support respiration; and it was furtherstated that on this summit the air was so serene, and so free from rain andsnow and wind, that letters traced by the finger in the ashes of the sacrificeson the altar of Jupiter remained there still the next year without being at alldisturbed. And at this day travelers ascending to the top of the Peak ofTenerife make the ascent by night and not by day, and soon after the rising ofthe sun are warned and urged by their guides to come down without delay, onaccount of the danger they run lest the animal spirits should swoon and besuffocated by the tenuity of the air.
To the 2nd.
3. The reflection of the rays of the sun in regions near the polarcircles is found to be very weak and ineffective in producing heat, insomuchthat the Dutch who wintered in Nova Zembla and expected their ship to be freedfrom the obstructions of the mass of ice which hemmed her in by the beginningof July, were disappointed in their expectation and obliged to take to theirboat. Thus the direct rays of the sun seem to have but little power, even onthe level ground; nor have the reflex much, unless they are multiplied andcombined, which is the case when the sun tends more to the perpendicular, forthen the incident rays make acuter angles, so that the lines of the rays arenearer each other; whereas on the contrary, when the sun shines very obliquely,the angles are very obtuse, and thus the lines of rays are at a greaterdistance from each other. Meanwhile, it should be observed that there may bemany operations of the sun, and those too depending on the nature of heat,which are not proportioned to our touch, so that in respect to us their actiondoes not go so far as to produce sensible warmth, but in respect to some otherbodies they have the effect of heat.
4. Try the following experiment. Take a glass fashioned in a contrarymanner to a common burning glass and, placing it between your hand and the raysof the sun, observe whether it diminishes the heat of the sun, as a burningglass increases and strengthens it. For it is evident in the case of opticalrays that according as the glass is made thicker or thinner in the middle ascompared with the sides, so do the objects seen through it appear more spreador more contracted. Observe therefore whether the same is the case withheat.
To the 2nd
5. Let the experiment be carefully tried, whether by means of the mostpowerful and best constructed burning glasses, the rays of the moon can be socaught and collected as to produce even the last degree of warmth. But shouldthis degree of warmth prove too subtle and weak to be perceived and apprehendedby the touch, recourse must be had to those glasses which indicate the state ofthe atmosphere in respect to heat and cold. Thus, let the rays of the moon fallthrough a burning glass on the top of a glass of this kind, and then observewhether there ensues a sinking of the water through warmth.
To the 2nd.
6. Let a burning glass also be tried with a heat that does not emit raysor light, as that of iron or stone heated but not ignited, boiling water, andthe like; and observe whether there ensue an increase of the heat, as in thecase of the sun's rays.
To the 2nd.
7. Let a burning glass also be tried with common flame.
To the 2nd.
8. Comets (if we are to reckon these too among meteors) are not found toexert a constant or manifest effect in increasing the heat of the season,though it is observed that they are often followed by droughts. Moreover brightbeams and pillars and openings in the heavens appear more frequently in winterthan in summertime, and chiefly during the intensest cold, but alwaysaccompanied by dry weather. Lightning, however, and coruscations and thunderseldom occur in the winter, but about the time of great heat. Falling stars, asthey are called, are commonly supposed to consist rather of some bright andlighted viscous substance, than to be of any strong fiery nature. But on thispoint let further inquiry be made.
To the 3rd.
9. There are certain coruscations which give light but do not burn. Andthese always come without thunder.
To the 4th.
10. Eructations and eruptions of flame are found no less in cold than inwarm countries, as in Iceland and Greenland. In cold countries, too, the treesare in many cases more inflammable and more pitchy and resinous than in warm;as the fir, pine, and others. The situations however and the nature of the soilin which eruptions of this kind usually occur have not been carefully enoughascertained to enable us to subjoin a negative to this affirmativeinstance.
To the 5th.
11. All flame is in all cases more or less warm; nor is there anynegative to be subjoined. And yet they say that theignis fatuus (as itis called), which sometimes even settles on a wall, has not much heat, perhapsas much as the flame of spirit of wine, which is mild and soft. But stillmilder must that flame be which, according to certain grave and trustworthyhistories has been seen shining about the head and locks of boys and girls,without at all burning the hair, but softly playing round it. It is also mostcertain that about a horse, when sweating on the road, there is sometimes seenat night, and in clear weather, a sort of luminous appearance without anymanifest heat. And it is a well-known fact, and looked upon as a sort ofmiracle, that a few years ago a girl's stomacher, on being slightly shaken orrubbed, emitted sparks, which was caused perhaps by some alum or salts used inthe dye, that stood somewhat thick and formed a crust, and were broken by thefriction. It is also most certain that all sugar, whether refined or raw,provided only it be somewhat hard, sparkles when broken or scraped with a knifein the dark. In like manner sea and salt water is sometimes found to sparkle bynight when struck violently by oars. And in storms, too, at nighttime, the foamof the sea when violently agitated emits sparks, and this sparkling theSpaniards callSea Lung. With regard to the heat of the flame which wascalled by ancient sailors Castor and Pollux, and by moderns St. Elmo's Fire, nosufficient investigation thereof has been made.
To the 6th.
12. Every body ignited so as to turn to a fiery red, even ifunaccompanied by flame, is always hot; neither is there any negative to besubjoined to this affirmative. But that which comes nearest seems to be rottenwood, which shines by night and yet is not found to be hot; and the putrefyingscales of fish, which also shine in the dark and yet are not warm to the touch;nor, again, is the body of the glowworm, or of the fly calledLuciola,found to be warm to the touch.
To the 7th.
13. In what situation and kind of soil warm baths usually spring has notbeen sufficiently examined; and therefore no negative is subjoined.
To the 8th.
14. To warm liquids I subjoin the negative instance of liquid itself inits natural state. For we find no tangible liquid which is warm in its ownnature and remains so constantly; but the warmth is of an adventitious nature,superinduced only for the time being, so that the liquids which in power andoperation are hottest, as spirit of wine, chemical oil of spices, oil ofvitriol and sulphur, and the like, which burn after a while, are at first coldto the touch. The water of natural warm baths, on the other hand, if receivedinto a vessel and separated from its springs, cools just like water that hasbeen heated on a fire. But it is true that oily substances are less cold to thetouch than watery, oil being less cold than water, and silk than linen. Butthis belongs to the Table of Degrees of Cold.
To the 9th.
15. In like manner to hot vapor I subjoin as a negative the nature ofvapor itself, such as we find it with us. For exhalations from oily substances,though easily inflammable, are yet not found to be warm unless newly exhaledfrom the warm body.
To the 10th.
16. In like manner I subjoin as a negative to hot air the nature of airitself. For we do not find here any air that is warm, unless it has either beenconfined, or compressed, or manifestly warmed by the sun, fire, or some otherwarm substance.
To the 11th.
17. I here subjoin the negative of colder weather than is suitable tothe season of the year, which we find occurs during east and north winds; justas we have weather of the opposite kind with the south and west winds. So atendency to rain, especially in wintertime, accompanies warm weather; whilefrost accompanies cold.
To the 12th.
18. Here I subjoin the negative of air confined in caverns during thesummer. But the subject of air in confinement should by all means be morediligently examined. For in the first place it may well be a matter of doubtwhat is the nature of air in itself with regard to heat and cold. For airmanifestly receives warmth from the influence of the heavenly bodies, and coldperhaps from the exhalations of the earth; and, again, in the middle region ofair, as it is called, from cold vapors and snow. So that no opinion can beformed as to the nature of air from the examination of air that is at large andexposed, but a truer judgment might be made by examining it when confined. Itis, however, necessary for the air to be confined in a vessel of such materialas will not itself communicate warmth or cold to the air by its own nature, norreadily admit the influence of the outer atmosphere. Let the experimenttherefore be made in an earthen jar wrapped round with many folds of leather toprotect it from the outward air, and let the vessel remain tightly closed forthree or four days; then open the vessel and test the degree of heat or cold byapplying either the hand or a graduated glass.
To the 13th.
19. In like manner a doubt suggests itself whether the warmth in wool,skins, feathers, and the like, proceeds from a faint degree of heat inherent inthem, as being excretions from animals; or from a certain fat and oiliness,which is of a nature akin to warmth; or simply, as surmised in the precedingarticle, from the confinement and separation of the air. For all air that iscut off from connection with the outer air seems to have some warmth. Try theexperiment therefore with fibrous substances made of linen; not of wool,feathers, or silk, which are excretions from animals. It should also beobserved that all powders (in which there is manifestly air enclosed) are lesscold than the whole substances they are made from; as likewise I suppose thatall froth (as that which contains air) is less cold than the liquor it comesfrom.
To the 14th.
20. To this no negative is subjoined. For there is nothing found amongus, either tangible or spirituous, which does not contract warmth when put nearfire. There is this difference however, that some substances contract warmthmore quickly, as air, oil, and water; others more slowly, as stone and metal.But this belongs to the Table of Degrees.
To the 15th.
21. To this instance I subjoin no negative, except that I would have itwell observed that sparks are produced from flint and steel, or any other hardsubstance, only when certain minute particles are struck off from the substanceof the stone or metal; and that the attrition of the air does not of itselfever produce sparks, as is commonly supposed. And the sparks themselves, too,owing to the weight of the ignited body, tend rather downwards than upwards;and on going out become a tangible sooty substance.
To the 16th.
22. There is no negative, I think, to be subjoined to this instance. Forwe find among us no tangible body which does not manifestly gain warmth byattrition; insomuch that the ancients fancied that the heavenly bodies had noother means or power of producing warmth than by the attrition of the air intheir rapid and hurried revolution. But on this subject we must further inquirewhether bodies discharged from engines, as balls from cannon, do not acquiresome degree of heat from the very percussion, so as to be found somewhat warmwhen they fall. Air in motion, however, rather chills than warms, as appearsfrom wind, bellows, and blowing with the mouth contracted. But motion of thiskind is not so rapid as to excite heat, and is the motion of a mass, and not ofparticles; so that it is no wonder if it does not generate heat.
To the 17th.
23. On this instance should be made more diligent inquiry. For herbs andvegetables, when green and moist seem to contain some latent heat, though soslight that it is not perceptible to the touch when they are single, but onlywhen they are collected and shut up together, so that their spirits may notbreathe out into the air, but may mutually cherish each other; whereupon therearises a palpable heat, and sometimes flame in suitable matter.
To the 18th.
24. On this instance too should be made more diligent inquiry. Forquicklime sprinkled with water seems to contract heat either by theconcentration of heat before dispersed, as in the above-mentioned case ofconfined herbs, or because the igneous spirit is irritated and exasperated bythe water so as to cause a conflict and reaction. Which of these two is thereal cause will more readily appear if oil be poured on instead of water, foroil will serve equally well with water to concentrate the enclosed spirit, butnot to irritate it. We should also extend the experiment both by employing theashes and rusts of different bodies, and by pouring in different liquids.
To the 19th.
25. To this instance is subjoined the negative of other metals which aresofter and more fusible. For gold leaf dissolved byaqua regia gives noheat to the touch; no more does lead dissolved inaqua fortis; neitheragain does quicksilver (as I remember); but silver itself does, and copper too(as I remember); tin still more manifestly; and most of all iron and steel,which not only excite a strong heat in dissolution but also a violentebullition. It appears therefore that the heat is produced by conflict, thestrong waters penetrating, digging into, and tearing asunder the parts of thesubstance, while the substance itself resists. But where the substances yieldmore easily, there is hardly any heat excited.
To the 20th.
26. To the heat of animals no negative is subjoined, except that ofinsects (as above-mentioned) on account of their small size. For in fishes, ascompared with land animals, it is rather a low degree than an absence of heatthat is noted. But in vegetables and plants there is no degree of heatperceptible to the touch, either in their exudations or in their pith whenfreshly exposed. In animals, however, is found a great diversity of heat, bothin their parts (there being different degrees of heat about the heart, in thebrain, and on the skin) and in their accidents, as violent exercise andfevers.
To the 21st.
27. To this instance it is hard to subjoin a negative. Indeed theexcrements of animals when no longer fresh have manifestly a potential heat, asis seen in the enriching of soil.
To the 24th.
28. Liquids, whether waters or oils, which possess a great and intenseacridity, act like heat in tearing asunder bodies and burning them after sometime; yet to the touch they are not hot at first. But their operation isrelative and according to the porosity of the body to which they are applied.Foraqua regia dissolves gold but not silver;aqua fortis, on thecontrary, dissolves silver, but not gold; neither dissolves glass, and so onwith others.
To the 22nd and 23rd.
29. Let trial be made of spirit of wine on wood, and also on butter,wax, or pitch; and observe whether by its heat it in any degree melts them. Forthe twenty-fourth instance exhibits a power in it that resembles heat inproducing incrustation. In like manner therefore try its power in producingliquefaction. Let trial also be made with a graduated or calendar glass, hollowat the top; pour into the hollow spirit of wine well rectified, cover it upthat the spirit may better retain its heat, and observe whether by its heat itmakes the water sink.
To the 25th.
30. Spices and acrid herbs strike hot on the palate, and much hotter onthe stomach. Observe therefore on what other substances they produce theeffects of heat. Sailors tell us that when large parcels and masses of spicesare, after being long kept close, suddenly opened, those who first stir andtake them out run the risk of fever and inflammation. It can also be triedwhether such spices and herbs when pounded would not dry bacon and meat hungover them, as smoke does.
To the 26th.
31. There is an acridity or pungency both in cold things, as vinegar andoil of vitriol, and in hot, as oil of marjoram and the like. Both aliketherefore cause pain in animate substances, and tear asunder and consume theparts in such as are inanimate. To this instance again there is no negativesubjoined. Moreover we find no pain in animals, save with a certain sensationof heat.
To the 27th.
32. There are many actions common both to heat and cold, though in avery different manner. For boys find that snow after a while seems to burntheir hands; and cold preserves meat from putrefaction, no less than fire; andheat contracts bodies, which cold does also. But these and similar instancesmay more conveniently be referred to the inquiry concerning cold.
XIII
Thirdly, we must make a presentation to the understanding of instancesin which the nature under inquiry is found in different degrees, more or less;which must be done by making a comparison either of its increase and decreasein the same subject, or of its amount in different subjects, as compared onewith another. For since the form of a thing is the very thing itself, and thething differs from the form no otherwise than as the apparent differs from thereal, or the external from the internal, or the thing in reference to man fromthe thing in reference to the universe, it necessarily follows that no naturecan be taken as the true form, unless it always decrease when the nature inquestion decreases, and in like manner always increase when the nature inquestion increases. This Table therefore I call theTable of Degrees ortheTable of Comparison.
Table of Degrees or Comparison in Heat
I will therefore first speak of those substances which contain no degreeat all of heat perceptible to the touch, but seem to have a certain potentialheat only, or disposition and preparation for hotness. After that I shallproceed to substances which are hot actually, and to the touch, and to theirintensities and degrees.
1. In solid and tangible bodies we find nothing which is in its natureoriginally hot. For no stone, metal, sulphur, fossil, wood, water, or carcassof animal is found to be hot. And the hot water in baths seems to be heated byexternal causes; whether it be by flame or subterraneous fire, such as isthrown up from Etna and many other mountains, or by the conflict of bodies, asheat is caused in the dissolution of iron and tin. There is therefore no degreeof heat palpable to the touch in animate substances; but they differ in degreeof cold, wood not being equally cold with metal. But this belongs to the Tableof Degrees in Cold.
2. As far, however, as potential heat and aptitude for flame isconcerned, there are many inanimate substances found strongly disposed thereto,as sulphur, naphtha, rock oil.
3. Substances once hot, as horse dung from animal heat, and lime orperhaps ashes and soot from fire, retain some latent remains of their formerheat. Hence certain distillations and resolutions of bodies are made by buryingthem in horse dung, and heat is excited in lime by sprinkling it with water, asalready mentioned.
4. In the vegetable creation we find no plant or part of plant (as gumor pitch) which is warm to the human touch. But yet, as stated above, greenherbs gain warmth by being shut up; and to the internal touch, as the palate orstomach, and even to external parts, after a little time, as in plasters andointments, some vegetables are perceptibly warm and others cold.
5. In the parts of animals after death or separation from the body, wefind nothing warm to the human touch. Not even horse dung, unless enclosed andburied, retains its heat. But yet all dung seems to have a potential heat, asis seen in the fattening of the land. In like manner carcasses of animals havesome such latent and potential heat, insomuch that in burying grounds, whereburials take place daily, the earth collects a certain hidden heat whichconsumes a body newly laid in it much more speedily than pure earth. We aretold too that in the East there is discovered a fine soft texture, made of thedown of birds, which by an innate force dissolves and melts butter when lightlywrapped in it.
6. Substances which fatten the soil, as dung of all kinds, chalk, seasand, salt, and the like, have some disposition to heat.
7. All putrefaction contains in itself certain elements of a slightheat, though not so much as to be perceived by the touch. For not even thosesubstances which on putrefaction turn to animalculae, as flesh, cheese, etc.,feel warm to the touch; no more does rotten wood, which shines in the dark.Heat, however, in putrid substances sometimes betrays itself by foul andpowerful odors.
8. The first degree of heat therefore among those substances which feelhot to the touch, seems to be the heat of animals, which has a pretty greatextent in its degrees. For the lowest, as in insects, is hardly perceptible tothe touch, but the highest scarcely equals the sun's heat in the hottestcountries and seasons, nor is it too great to be borne by the hand. It is said,however, of Constantius, and some others of a very dry constitution and habitof body, that in violent fevers they became so hot as somewhat to burn the handthat touched them.
9. Animals increase in heat by motion and exercise, wine, feasting,venus, burning fevers, and pain.
10. When attacked by intermittent fevers, animals are at first seizedwith cold and shivering, but soon after they become exceedingly hot, which istheir condition from the first in burning and pestilential fevers.
11. Let further inquiry be made into the different degrees of heat indifferent animals, as in fishes, quadrupeds, serpents, birds; and alsoaccording to their species, as in the lion, the kite, the man; for in commonopinion fish are the least hot internally, and birds the hottest, especiallydoves, hawks, and sparrows.
12. Let further inquiry be made into the different degrees of heat inthe different parts and limbs of the same animal. For milk, blood, seed, eggs,are found to be hot only in a moderate degree, and less hot than the outerflesh of the animal when in motion or agitated. But what the degree of heat isin the brain, stomach, heart, etc., has not yet been in like mannerinquired.
13. All animals in winter and cold weather are cold externally, butinternally they are thought to be even hotter.
14. The heat of the heavenly bodies, even in the hottest countries, andat the hottest times of the year and day, is never sufficiently strong to seton fire or burn the driest wood or straw, or even tinder, unless strengthenedby burning glasses or mirrors. It is, however, able to extract vapor from moistsubstances.
15. By the tradition of astronomers some stars are hotter than others.Of planets, Mars is accounted the hottest after the sun; then comes Jupiter,and then Venus. Others, again, are set down as cold: the moon, for instance,and above all Saturn. Of fixed stars, Sirius is said to be the hottest, thenCor Leonis or Regulus, then Canicula, and so on.
16. The sun gives greater heat the nearer he approaches to theperpendicular or zenith; and this is probably true of the other planets also,according to the proportion of their heat. Jupiter, for instance, is hotter,probably, to us when under Cancer or Leo than under Capricorn or Aquarius.
17. We must also believe that the sun and other planets give more heatin perigee, from their proximity to the earth, than they do in apogee. But ifit happens that in some region the sun is at the same time in perigee and nearthe perpendicular, his heat must of necessity be greater than in a region wherehe is also in perigee, but shining more obliquely. And therefore the altitudeof the planets in their exaltation in different regions ought to be noted, withrespect to perpendicularity or obliquity.
18. The sun and other planets are supposed to give greater heat whennearer to the larger fixed stars. Thus when the sun is in Leo he is nearer CorLeonis, Cauda Leonis, Spica Virginis, Sirius and Canicula, than when he is inCancer, in which sign, however, he is nearer to the perpendicular. And it mustbe supposed that those parts of the heavens shed the greatest heat (though itbe not at all perceptible to the touch) which are the most adorned with stars,especially of a larger size.
19. Altogether, the heat of the heavenly bodies is increased in threeways: first, by perpendicularity; secondly, by proximity or perigee; thirdly,by the conjunction or combination of stars.
20. The heat of animals, and of the rays of the heavenly bodies also (asthey reach us), is found to differ by a wide interval from flame, though of themildest kind, and from all ignited bodies; and from liquids also, and airitself when highly heated by fire. For the flame of spirit of wine, thoughscattered and not condensed, is yet sufficient to set paper, straw, or linen onfire, which the heat of animals will never do, or of the sun without a burningglass or mirror.
21. There are, however, many degrees of strength and weakness in theheat of flame and ignited bodies. But as they have never been diligentlyinquired into, we must pass them lightly over. It appears, however, that of allflame that of spirit of wine is the softest, unless perhapsignis fatuusbe softer, and the flames or sparklings arising from the sweat of animals.Next to this, as I suppose, comes flame from light and porous vegetable matter,as straw, reeds, and dried leaves, from which the flame from hairs or feathersdoes not much differ. Next perhaps comes flame from wood, especially such ascontains but little rosin or pitch; with this distinction, however, that theflame from small pieces of wood (such as are commonly tied up in fagots) ismilder than the flame from trunks and roots of trees. And this you may try anyday in furnaces for smelting iron, in which a fire made with fagots and boughsof trees is of no great use. After this I think comes flame from oil, tallow,wax, and such like fat and oily substances, which have no great acrimony. Butthe most violent heat is found in pitch and rosin; and yet more in sulphur,camphor, naphtha, rock oil, and salts (after the crude matter is discharged),and in their compounds, as gunpowder, Greek fire (commonly called wildfire),and its different kinds, which have so stubborn a heat that they are not easilyextinguished by water.
22. I think also that the flame which results from some imperfect metalsis very strong and eager. But on these points let further inquiry be made.
23. The flame of powerful lightning seems to exceed in strength all theformer, for it has even been known to melt wrought iron into drops, which thoseother flames cannot do.
24. In ignited bodies too there are different degrees of heat, thoughthese again have not yet been diligently examined. The weakest heat of all, Ithink, is that from tinder, such as we use to kindle flame with; and in likemanner that of touchwood or tow, which is used in firing cannon. After thiscomes ignited wood or coal, and also bricks and the like heated to ignition.But of all ignited substances, the hottest, as I take it, are ignited metals,as iron, copper, etc. But these require further investigation.
25. Some ignited bodies are found to be much hotter than some flames.Ignited iron, for instance, is much hotter and more consuming than flame ofspirit of wine.
26. Of substances also which are not ignited but only heated by fire, asboiling water and air confined in furnaces, some are found to exceed in heatmany flames and ignited substances.
27. Motion increases heat, as you may see in bellows and by blowing;insomuch that the harder metals are not dissolved or melted by a dead or quietfire, till it be made intense by blowing.
28. Let trial be made with burning glasses, which (as I remember) actthus. If you place a burning glass at the distance of (say) a span from acombustible body, it will not burn or consume it so easily as if it were firstplaced at the distance of (say) half a span, and then moved gradually andslowly to the distance of the whole span. And yet the cone and union of raysare the same; but the motion itself increases the operation of the heat.
29. Fires which break out during a strong wind are thought to makegreater progress against than with it; because the flame recoils more violentlywhen the wind gives way than it advances while the wind is driving it on.
30. Flame does not burst out, nor is it generated, unless some hollowspace be allowed it to move and play in; except the explosive flame ofgunpowder and the like, where compression and imprisonment increase itsfury.
31. An anvil grows very hot under the hammer, insomuch that if it weremade of a thin plate it might, I suppose, with strong and continuous blows ofthe hammer, grow red like ignited iron. But let this be tried byexperiment.
32. But in ignited substances which are porous, so as to give the fireroom to move, if this motion be checked by strong compression, the fire isimmediately extinguished. For instance, when tinder, or the burning wick of acandle or lamp, or even live charcoal or coal, is pressed down with anextinguisher, or with the foot, or any similar instrument, the operation of thefire instantly ceases.
33. Approximation to a hot body increases heat in proportion to thedegree of approximation. And this is the case also with light; for the neareran object is brought to the light, the more visible it becomes.
34. The union of different heats increases heat, unless the hotsubstances be mixed together. For a large fire and a small fire in the sameroom increase one another's heat; but warm water plunged into boiling watercools it.
35. The continued application of a hot body increases heat, because heatperpetually passing and emanating from it mingles with the previously existingheat, and so multiplies the heat. For a fire does not warm a room as well inhalf an hour as it does if continued through the whole hour. But this is notthe case with light; for a lamp or candle gives no more light after it has beenlong lighted than it did at first.
36. Irritation by surrounding cold increases heat, as you may see infires during a sharp frost. And this I think is owing not merely to theconfinement and contraction of the heat, which is a kind of union, but also toirritation. Thus, when air or a stick is violently compressed or bent, itrecoils not merely to the point it was forced from, but beyond it on the otherside. Let trial therefore be carefully made by putting a stick or some suchthing into flame, and observing whether it is not burnt more quickly at thesides than in the middle of the flame.
37. There are many degrees in susceptibility of heat. And first of allit is to be observed how slight and faint a heat changes and somewhat warmseven those bodies which are least of all susceptible of heat. Even the heat ofthe hand communicates some heat to a ball of lead or any metal, if held in it alittle while. So readily and so universally is heat transmitted and excited,the body remaining to all appearance unchanged.
38. Of all substances that we are acquainted with, the one which mostreadily receives and loses heat is air; as is best seen in calendar glasses[air thermoscopes], which are made thus. Take a glass with a hollow belly, athin and oblong neck; turn it upside down and lower it, with the mouthdownwards and the belly upwards, into another glass vessel containing water;and let the mouth of the inserted vessel touch the bottom of the receivingvessel and its neck lean slightly against the mouth of the other, so that itcan stand. And that this may be done more conveniently, apply a little wax tothe mouth of the receiving glass, but not so as to seal its mouth quite up, inorder that the motion, of which we are going to speak, and which is very facileand delicate, may not be impeded by want of a supply of air.
The lowered glass, before being inserted into the other, must be heatedbefore a fire in its upper part, that is its belly. Now when it is placed inthe position I have described, the air which was dilated by the heat will,after a lapse of time sufficient to allow for the extinction of thatadventitious heat, withdraw and contract itself to the same extension ordimension as that of the surrounding air at the time of the immersion of theglass, and will draw the water upwards to a corresponding height. To the sideof the glass there should be affixed a strip of paper, narrow and oblong, andmarked with as many degrees as you choose. You will then see, according as theday is warm or cold, that the air contracts under the action of cold, andexpands under the action of heat; as will be seen by the water rising when theair contracts, and sinking when it dilates. But the air's sense of heat andcold is so subtle and exquisite as far to exceed the perception of the humantouch, insomuch that a ray of sunshine, or the heat of the breath, much morethe heat of one's hand placed on the top of the glass, will cause the waterimmediately to sink in a perceptible degree. And yet I think that animalspirits have a sense of heat and cold more exquisite still, were it not that itis impeded and deadened by the grossness of the body.
39. Next to air, I take those bodies to be most sensitive to heat whichhave been recently changed and compressed by cold, as snow and ice; for theybegin to dissolve and melt with any gentle heat. Next to them, perhaps, comesquicksilver. After that follow greasy substances, as oil, butter, and the like;then comes wood; then water; and lastly stones and metals, which are slow toheat, especially in the inside. These, however, when once they have acquiredheat retain it very long; in so much that an ignited brick, stone, or piece ofiron, when plunged into a basin of water, will remain for a quarter of an hour,or thereabouts, so hot that you cannot touch it.
40. The less the mass of a body, the sooner is it heated by the approachof a hot body; which shows that all heat of which we have experience is in somesort opposed to tangible matter.
41. Heat, as far as regards the sense and touch of man, is a thingvarious and relative; insomuch that tepid water feels hot if the hand be cold,but cold if the hand be hot.
XIV
How poor we are in history anyone may see from the foregoing tables,where I not only insert sometimes mere traditions and reports (though neverwithout a note of doubtful credit and authority) in place of history proved andinstances certain, but am also frequently forced to use the words "Let trial bemade," or "Let it be further inquired."
XV
The work and office of these three tables I call the Presentation ofInstances to the Understanding. Which presentation having been made, inductionitself must be set at work; for the problem is, upon a review of the instances,all and each, to find such a nature as is always present or absent with thegiven nature, and always increases and decreases with it; and which is, as Ihave said, a particular case of a more general nature. Now if the mind attemptthis affirmatively from the first, as when left to itself it is always wont todo, the result will be fancies and guesses and notions ill defined, and axiomsthat must be mended every day, unless like the schoolmen we have a mind tofight for what is false; though doubtless these will be better or worseaccording to the faculties and strength of the understanding which is at work.To God, truly, the Giver and Architect of Forms, and it may be to the angelsand higher intelligences, it belongs to have an affirmative knowledge of formsimmediately, and from the first contemplation. But this assuredly is more thanman can do, to whom it is granted only to proceed at first by negatives, and atlast to end in affirmatives after exclusion has been exhausted.
XVI
We must make, therefore, a complete solution and separation of nature,not indeed by fire, but by the mind, which is a kind of divine fire. The firstwork, therefore, of true induction (as far as regards the discovery of forms)is the rejection or exclusion of the several natures which are not found insome instance where the given nature is present, or are found in some instancewhere the given nature is absent, or are found to increase in some instancewhen the given nature decreases, or to decrease when the given natureincreases. Then indeed after the rejection and exclusion has been duly made,there will remain at the bottom, all light opinions vanishing into smoke, aform affirmative, solid, and true and well defined. This is quickly said; butthe way to come at it is winding and intricate. I will endeavor, however, notto overlook any of the points which may help us toward it.
XVII
But when I assign so prominent a part to forms, I cannot too often warnand admonish men against applying what I say to those forms to which theirthoughts and contemplations have hitherto been accustomed.
For in the first place I do not at present speak of compound forms,which are, as I have remarked, combinations of simple natures according to thecommon course of the universe: as of the lion, eagle, rose, gold, and the like.It will be time to treat of these when we come to the latent processes andlatent configurations, and the discovery of them, as they are found in what arecalled substances or natures concrete.
And even in the case of simple natures I would not be understood tospeak of abstract forms and ideas, either not defined in matter at all, or illdefined. For when I speak of forms, I mean nothing more than those laws anddeterminations of absolute actuality which govern and constitute any simplenature, as heat, light, weight, in every kind of matter and subject that issusceptible of them. Thus the form of heat or the form of light is the samething as the law of heat or the law of light. Nor indeed do I ever allow myselfto be drawn away from things themselves and the operative part. And thereforewhen I say (for instance) in the investigation of the form of heat, "rejectrarity," or "rarity does not belong to the form of heat," it is the same as ifI said, "It is possible to superinduce heat on a dense body"; or, "It ispossible to take away or keep out heat from a rare body."
But if anyone conceive that my forms too are of a somewhat abstractnature, because they mix and combine things heterogeneous (for the heat ofheavenly bodies and the heat of fire seem to be very heterogeneous; so do thefixed red of the rose or the like, and the apparent red in the rainbow, theopal, or the diamond; so again do the different kinds of death: death bydrowning, by hanging, by stabbing, by apoplexy, by atrophy; and yet they agreeseverally in the nature of heat, redness, death); if anyone, I say, be of thisopinion, he may be assured that his mind is held in captivity by custom, by thegross appearance of things, and by men's opinions. For it is most certain thatthese things, however heterogeneous and alien from each other, agree in theform or law which governs heat, redness and death; and that the power of mancannot possibly be emancipated and freed from the common course of nature, andexpanded and exalted to new efficients and new modes of operation, except bythe revelation and discovery of forms of this kind. And yet, when I have spokenof this union of nature, which is the point of most importance, I shall proceedto the divisions and veins of nature, as well the ordinary as those that aremore inward and exact, and speak of them in their place.
XVIII
I must now give an example of the exclusion or rejection of natureswhich by the Tables of Presentation are found not to belong to the form ofheat; observing in the meantime that not only each table suffices for therejection of any nature, but even any one of the particular instances containedin any of the tables. For it is manifest from what has been said that any onecontradictory instance overthrows a conjecture as to the form. But neverthelessfor clearness' sake and that the use of the tables may be more plainly shown, Isometimes double or multiply an exclusion.
An Example of Exclusion, or Rejection of Natures from the Form ofHeat
1. On account of the rays of the sun, reject the nature of theelements.
2. On account of common fire, and chiefly subterraneous fires (which arethe most remote and most completely separate from the rays of heavenly bodies),reject the nature of heavenly bodies.
3. On account of the warmth acquired by all kinds of bodies (minerals,vegetables, skin of animals, water, oil, air, and the rest) by mere approach toa fire, or other hot body, reject the distinctive or more subtle texture ofbodies.
4. On account of ignited iron and other metals, which communicate heatto other bodies and yet lose none of their weight or substance, reject thecommunication or admixture of the substance of another hot body.
5. On account of boiling water and air, and also on account of metalsand other solids that receive heat but not to ignition or red heat, rejectlight or brightness.
6. On account of the rays of the moon and other heavenly bodies, withthe exception of the sun, also reject light and brightness.
7. By a comparison of ignited iron and the flame of spirit of wine (ofwhich ignited iron has more heat and less brightness, while the flame of spiritof wine has more brightness and less heat), also reject light andbrightness.
8. On account of ignited gold and other metals, which are of thegreatest density as a whole, reject rarity.
9. On account of air, which is found for the most part cold and yetremains rare, also reject rarity.
10. On account of ignited iron, which does not swell in bulk, but keepswithin the same visible dimensions, reject local or expansive motion of thebody as a whole.
11. On account of the dilation of air in calendar glasses and the like,wherein the air evidently moves locally and expansively and yet acquires nomanifest increase of heat, also reject local or expansive motion of the body asa whole.
12. On account of the ease with which all bodies are heated, without anydestruction or observable alteration, reject a destructive nature, or theviolent communication of any new nature.
13. On account of the agreement and conformity of the similar effectswhich are wrought by heat and cold, reject motion of the body as a whole,whether expansive or contractive.
14. On account of heat being kindled by the attrition of bodies, rejecta principial nature. By principial nature I mean that which exists in thenature of things positively, and not as the effect of any antecedentnature.
There are other natures beside these; for these tables are not perfect,but meant only for examples.
All and each of the above-mentioned natures donot belong to theform of heat. And from all of them man is freed in his operations of heat.
XIX
In the process of exclusion are laid the foundations of true induction,which however is not completed till it arrives at an affirmative. Nor is theexclusive part itself at all complete, nor indeed can it possibly be so atfirst. For exclusion is evidently the rejection of simple natures; and if we donot yet possess sound and true notions of simple natures, how can the processof exclusion be made accurate? Now some of the above-mentioned notions (as thatof the nature of the elements, of the nature of heavenly bodies, of rarity) arevague and ill defined. I, therefore, well knowing and nowise forgetting howgreat a work I am about (viz., that of rendering the human understanding amatch for things and nature), do not rest satisfied with the precepts I havelaid down, but proceed further to devise and supply more powerful aids for theuse of the understanding; which I shall now subjoin. And assuredly in theinterpretation of nature the mind should by all means be so prepared anddisposed that while it rests and finds footing in due stages and degrees ofcertainty, it may remember withal (especially at the beginning) that what ithas before it depends in great measure upon what remains behind.
XX
And yet since truth will sooner come out from error than from confusion,I think it expedient that the understanding should have permission, after thethree Tables of First Presentation (such as I have exhibited) have been madeand weighed, to make an essay of the Interpretation of Nature in theaffirmative way, on the strength both of the instances given in the tables, andof any others it may meet with elsewhere. Which kind of essay I call theIndulgence of the Understanding, or theCommencement ofInterpretation, or theFirst Vintage.
First Vintage Concerning the Form of Heat
It is to be observed that the form of a thing is to be found (as plainlyappears from what has been said) in each and all the instances in which thething itself is to be found; otherwise it would not be the form. It followstherefore that there can be no contradictory instance. At the same time theform is found much more conspicuous and evident in some instances than inothers, namely in those wherein the nature of the form is less restrained andobstructed and kept within bounds by other natures. Instances of this kind Icall Shining or Striking Instances. Let us now therefore proceed to the firstvintage concerning the form of heat.
From a survey of the instances, all and each, the nature of which heatis a particular case, appears to be motion. This is displayed mostconspicuously in flame, which is always in motion, and in boiling or simmeringliquids, which also are in perpetual motion. It is also shown in the excitementor increase of heat caused by motion, as in bellows and blasts; on which seeTab. 3. Inst. 29.; and again in other kinds of motion, on which see Tab. 3.Inst. 28. and 31. Again it is shown in the extinction of fire and heat by anystrong compression, which checks and stops the motion; on which see Tab. 3.Inst. 30. and 32. It is shown also by this, that all bodies are destroyed, orat any rate notably altered, by all strong and vehement fire and heat; whenceit is quite clear that heat causes a tumult and confusion and violent motion inthe internal parts of a body, which perceptibly tend to its dissolution.
When I say of motion that it is as the genus of which heat is a species,I would be understood to mean not that heat generates motion or that motiongenerates heat (though both are true in certain cases), but that heat itself,its essence and quiddity, is motion and nothing else; limited however by thespecific differences which I will presently subjoin, as soon as I have added afew cautions for the sake of avoiding ambiguity.
Sensible heat is a relative notion, and has relation to man, not to theuniverse, and is correctly defined as merely the effect of heat on the animalspirits. Moreover, in itself it is variable, since the same body, according asthe senses are predisposed, induces a perception of cold as well as of heat.This is clear from Inst. 41. Tab. 3.
Nor again must the communication of heat, or its transitive nature, bymeans of which a body becomes hot when a hot body is applied to it, beconfounded with the form of heat. For heat is one thing, heating another. Heatis produced by the motion of attrition without any preceding heat, an instancewhich excludes heating from the form of heat. And even when heat is produced bythe approach of a hot body, this does not proceed from the form of heat, butdepends entirely on a higher and more general nature, viz., on the nature ofassimilation or self-multiplication, a subject which requires a separateinquiry.
Again, our notion of fire is popular, and of no use, being made up ofthe combination in any body of heat and brightness, as in common flame andbodies heated to redness.
Having thus removed all ambiguity, I come at length to the true specificdifferences which limit motion and constitute it the form of heat.
The first difference then is this. Heat is an expansive motion whereby abody strives to dilate and stretch itself to a larger sphere or dimension thanit had previously occupied. This difference is most observable in flame, wherethe smoke or thick vapor manifestly dilates and expands itself into flame.
It is shown also in all boiling liquid which manifestly swells, rises,and bubbles, and carries on the process of self-expansion till it turns into abody far more extended and dilated than the liquid itself, namely, into vapor,smoke, or air.
It appears likewise in all wood and combustibles, from which theregenerally arises exudation and always evaporation.
It is shown also in the melting of metals which, being of the compactesttexture, do not readily swell and dilate, but yet their spirit being dilated initself, and thereupon conceiving an appetite for further dilation, forces andagitates the grosser parts into a liquid state. And if the heat be greatlyincreased it dissolves and turns much of their substance to a volatilestate.
It is shown also in iron or stones which, though not melted ordissolved, are yet softened. This is the case also with sticks, which whenslightly heated in hot ashes become flexible.
But this kind of motion is best seen in air, which continuously andmanifestly dilates with a slight heat, as appears in Inst. 38. Tab. 3.
It is shown also in the opposite nature of cold. For cold contracts allbodies and makes them shrink, insomuch that in intense frosts nails fall outfrom walls, brazen vessels crack, and heated glass, on being suddenly placed inthe cold, cracks and breaks. In like manner air is contracted by a slightchill, as in Inst. 38. Tab. 3. But on these points I shall speak more at lengthin the inquiry concerning Cold. Nor is it surprising that heat and cold shouldexhibit many actions in common (for which see Inst. 32. Tab. 2.), when we findtwo of the following specific differences (of which I shall speak presently)suiting nature; though in this specific difference (of which I am now speaking)their actions are diametrically opposite. For heat gives an expansive anddilating, cold a contractive and condensing motion.
The second difference is a modification of the former, namely, that heatis a motion expansive or toward the circumference, but with this condition,that the body has at the same time a motion upward. For there is no doubt thatthere are many mixed motions. For instance, an arrow or dart turns as it goesforward, and goes forward as it turns. And in like manner the motion of heat isat once a motion of expansion and a motion upward. This difference is shown byputting a pair of tongs or a poker in the fire. If you put it inperpendicularly and hold it by the top, it soon burns your hand; if at the sideor from below, not nearly so soon.
It is also observable in distillationsper descensorium, whichmen use for delicate flowers that soon lose their scent. For human industry hasdiscovered the plan of placing the fire not below but above, that it may burnthe less. For not only flame tends upward, but also all heat.
But let trial be made of this in the opposite nature of cold, viz.,whether cold does not contract a body downward as heat dilates a body upward.Take therefore two iron rods, or two glass tubes, exactly alike; warm them alittle and place a sponge steeped in cold water or snow at the bottom of theone, and the same at the top of the other. For I think that the extremities ofthe rod which has the snow at the top will cool sooner than the extremities ofthe other which has the snow at the bottom; just as the opposite is the casewith heat.
The third specific difference is this: that heat is a motion ofexpansion, not uniformly of the whole body together, but in the smaller partsof it; and at the same time checked, repelled, and beaten back, so that thebody acquires a motion alternative, perpetually quivering, striving andstruggling, and irritated by repercussion, whence springs the fury of fire andheat.
This specific difference is most displayed in flame and boiling liquids,which are perpetually quivering and swelling in small portions, and againsubsiding.
It is also shown in those bodies which are so compact that when heatedor ignited they do not swell or expand in bulk, as ignited iron, in which theheat is very sharp.
It is shown also in this, that a fire burns most briskly in the coldestweather.
Again, it is shown in this, that when the air is extended in a calendarglass without impediment or repulsion — that is to say, uniformly andequably — there is no perceptible heat. Also when wind escapes fromconfinement, although it burst forth with the greatest violence, there is novery great heat perceptible; because the motion is of the whole, without amotion alternating in the particles. And with a view to this, let trial be madewhether flame does not burn more sharply toward the sides than in the middle ofthe flame.
It is also shown in this, that all burning acts on minute pores of thebody burnt; so that burning undermines, penetrates, pricks, and stings the bodylike the points of an infinite number of needles. It is also an effect of this,that all strong waters (if suited to the body on which they are acting) act asfire does, in consequence of their corroding and pungent nature.
And this specific difference (of which I am now speaking) is common alsoto the nature of cold. For in cold the contractive motion is checked by aresisting tendency to expand, just as in heat the expansive motion is checkedby a resisting tendency to contract. Thus, whether the particles of a body workinward or outward, the mode of action is the same though the degree of strengthbe very different; because we have not here on the surface of the earthanything that is intensely cold. See Inst. 27. Tab. [1].
The fourth specific difference is a modification of the last: it is,that the preceding motion of stimulation or penetration must be somewhat rapidand not sluggish, and must proceed by particles, minute indeed, yet not thefinest of all, but a degree larger.
This difference is shown by a comparison of the effects of fire with theeffects of time or age. Age or time dries, consumes, undermines and reduces toashes, no less than fire; indeed, with an action far more subtle; but becausesuch motion is very sluggish, and acts on particles very small, the heat is notperceived.
It is also shown by comparing the dissolution of iron and gold. Gold isdissolved without any heat being excited, while the dissolution of iron isaccompanied by a violent heat, though it takes place in about the same time.The reason is that in gold the separating acid enters gently and works withsubtlety, and the parts of the gold yield easily; whereas in iron the entranceis rough and with conflict, and the parts of the iron have greaterobstinacy.
It is shown also to some degree in some gangrenes and mortifications,which do not excite great heat or pain on account of the subtle nature ofputrefaction.
Let this then be the First Vintage or Commencement of Interpretationconcerning the form of heat, made by way of indulgence to theunderstanding.
Now from this our First Vintage it follows that the form or truedefinition of heat (heat, that is, in relation to the universe, not simply inrelation to man) is, in few words, as follows:Heat is a motion, expansive,restrained, and acting in its strife upon the smaller particles of bodies.But the expansion is thus modified:while it expands all ways, it has at thesame time an inclination upward. And the struggle in the particles ismodified also;it is not sluggish, but hurried and with violence.
Viewed with reference to operation it is the same thing. For thedirection is this:If in any natural body you can excite a dilating orexpanding motion, and can so repress this motion and turn it back upon itselfthat the dilation shall not proceed equably, but have its way in one part andbe counteracted in another, you will undoubtedly generate heat; withouttaking into account whether the body be elementary (as it is called) or subjectto celestial influence; whether it be luminous or opaque; rare or dense;locally expanded or confined within the bounds of its first dimension; vergingto dissolution or remaining in its original state; animal, vegetable, ormineral, water, oil or air, or any other substance whatever susceptible of theabove-mentioned motion. Sensible heat is the same thing; only it must beconsidered with reference to the sense. Let us now proceed to further aids.
XXI
The Tables of First Presentation and the Rejection or process ofExclusion being completed, and also the First Vintage being made thereupon, weare to proceed to the other helps of the understanding in the Interpretation ofNature and true and perfect Induction. In propounding which, I mean, whenTables are necessary, to proceed upon the Instances of Heat and Cold; but whena smaller number of examples will suffice, I shall proceed at large; so thatthe inquiry may be kept clear, and yet more room be left for the exposition ofthe system.
I propose to treat, then, in the first place, ofPrerogativeInstances; secondly, of theSupports of Induction; thirdly, of theRectification of Induction; fourthly, ofVarying the Investigationaccording to the nature of the Subject; fifthly, ofPrerogative Natureswith respect to Investigation, or of what should be inquired first and whatlast; sixthly, of theLimits of Investigation, or a synopsis of allnatures in the universe; seventhly, of theApplication to Practice, orof things in their relation to man; eighthly, ofPreparations forInvestigation; and lastly, of theAscending and Descending Scale ofAxioms.
XXII
Among Prerogative Instances I will place firstSolitary Instances.Those are solitary instances which exhibit the nature under investigationin subjects which have nothing in common with other subjects except thatnature; or, again, which do not exhibit the nature under investigation insubjects which resemble other subjects in every respect in not having thatnature. For it is clear that such instances make the way short, and accelerateand strengthen the process of exclusion, so that a few of them are as good asmany.
For instance, if we are inquiring into the nature of color, prisms,crystals, which show colors not only in themselves but externally on a wall,dews, etc., are solitary instances. For they have nothing in common with thecolors fixed in flowers, colored stones, metals, woods, etc., except the color.From which we easily gather that color is nothing more than a modification ofthe image of light received upon the object, resulting in the former case fromthe different degrees of incidence, in the latter from the various textures andconfigurations of the body. These instances are solitary in respect toresemblance.
Again, in the same investigation, the distinct veins of white and blackin marble, and the variegation of color in flowers of the same species, aresolitary instances. For the black and white streaks in marble, or the spots ofpink and white in a pink, agree in everything almost except the color. Fromwhich we easily gather that color has little to do with the intrinsic nature ofa body, but simply depends on the coarser and as it were mechanical arrangementof the parts. These instances are solitary in respect to difference. Both kindsI callsolitary instances, orferine, to borrow a term fromastronomers.
XXIII
Among Prerogative Instances I will next placeMigratoryInstances. They are those in which the nature in question is in the processof being produced when it did not previously exist, or on the other hand ofdisappearing when it existed before. And therefore, in either transition, suchinstances are always twofold, or rather it is one instance in motion orpassage, continued till it reaches the opposite state. Such instances not onlyaccelerate and strengthen the exclusive process, but also drive the affirmativeor form itself into a narrow compass. For the form of a thing must necessarilybe something which in the course of this migration is communicated, or on theother hand which in the course of this migration is removed and destroyed. Andthough every exclusion promotes the affirmative, yet this is done moredecidedly when it occurs in the same than in different subjects. And thebetrayal of the form in a single instance leads the way (as is evident from allthat has been said) to the discovery of it in all. And the simpler themigration, the more must the instance be valued. Besides, migratory instancesare of great use with a view to operation, because in exhibiting the form inconnection with that which causes it to be or not to be, they supply a cleardirection for practice in some cases; whence the passage is easy to the casesthat lie next. There is, however, in these instances a danger which requirescaution; viz., lest they lead us to connect the form too much with theefficient, and so possess the understanding, or at least touch it, with a falseopinion concerning the form, drawn from a view of the efficient/But theefficient is always understood to be merely the vehicle that carries the form.This is a danger, however, easily remedied by the process of exclusionlegitimately conducted.
I must now give an example of a migratory instance. Let the nature to beinvestigated be whiteness. An instance migrating to production or existence isglass whole and pounded. Again, simple water and water agitated into froth. Forglass and water in their simple state are transparent, not white, whereaspounded glass and water in froth are white, not transparent. We must thereforeinquire what has happened to the glass or water from this migration. For it isobvious that the form of whiteness is communicated and conveyed by thatpounding of the glass and that agitation of the water. We find, however, thatnothing has been added except the breaking up of the glass and water into smallparts, and the introduction of air. But we have made no slight advance to thediscovery of the form of whiteness when we know that two bodies, bothtransparent but in a greater or less degree (viz., air and water, or air andglass), do when mingled in small portions together exhibit whiteness, throughthe unequal refraction of the rays of light.
But an example must at the same time be given of the danger and cautionto which I alluded. For at this point it might readily suggest itself to anunderstanding led astray by efficient causes of this kind, that air is alwaysrequired for the form of whiteness, or that whiteness is generated bytransparent bodies only — notions entirely false, and refuted by numerousexclusions. Whereas it will be found that (setting air and the like aside)bodies entirely even in the particles which affect vision are transparent,bodies simply uneven are white; bodies uneven and in a compound yet regulartexture are all colors except black; while bodies uneven and in a compound,irregular, and confused texture are black. Here then I have given an example ofan instance migrating to production or existence in the proposed nature ofwhiteness. An instance migrating to destruction in the same nature of whitenessis froth or snow in dissolution. For the water puts off whiteness and puts ontransparency on returning to its integral state without air.
Nor must I by any means omit to mention that under migratory instancesare to be included not only those which are passing toward production anddestruction, but also those which are passing toward increase and decrease;since these also help to discover the form, as is clear from the abovedefinition of form and the Table of Degrees. The paper, which is white whendry, but when wetted (that is, when air is excluded and water introduced) isless white and approaches nearer to the transparent, is analogous to the abovegiven instances.
XXIV
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the third placeStrikingInstances, of which I have made mention in the First Vintage ConcerningHeat, and which I also callShining Instances, orInstances Freed andPredominant. They are those which exhibit the nature in question naked andstanding by itself, and also in its exaltation or highest degree of power; asbeing disenthralled and freed from all impediments, or at any rate by virtue ofits strength dominant over, suppressing and coercing them. For since every bodycontains in itself many forms of natures united together in a concrete state,the result is that they severally crush, depress, break, and enthrall oneanother, and thus the individual forms are obscured. But certain subjects arefound wherein the required nature appears more in its vigor than in others,either through the absence of impediments or the predominance of its ownvirtue. And instances of this kind strikingly display the form. At the sametime in these instances also we must use caution, and check the hurry of theunderstanding. For whatever displays the form too conspicuously and seems toforce it on the notice of the understanding should be held suspect, andrecourse be had to a rigid and careful exclusion.
To take an example: let the nature inquired into be heat. A strikinginstance of the motion of expansion, which (as stated above) is the mainelement in the form of heat, is a calendar glass of air. For flame, though itmanifestly exhibits expansion, still, as susceptible of momentary extinction,does not display the progress of expansion. Boiling water, too, on account ofthe easy transition of water to vapor or air, does not so well exhibit theexpansion of water in its own body. Again, ignited iron and like bodies are sofar from displaying the progress of expansion that in consequence of theirspirit being crushed and broken by the coarse and compact particles which curband subdue it, the expansion itself is not at all conspicuous to the senses.But a calendar glass strikingly displays expansion in air, at once conspicuous,progressive, permanent, and without transition.
To take another example: let the nature inquired into be weight. Astriking instance of weight is quicksilver. For it far surpasses in weight allsubstances but gold, and gold itself is not much heavier. But quicksilver is abetter instance for indicating the form of weight than gold, because gold issolid and consistent, characteristics which seem related to density; whereasquicksilver is liquid and teeming with spirit, and yet is heavier by manydegrees than the diamond and other bodies that are esteemed the most solid.From which it is obvious that the form of heaviness or weight depends simply onquantity of matter and not on compactness of frame.
XXV
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the fourth placeClandestine Instances, which I also callInstances of theTwilight, and which are pretty nearly the opposites of Striking Instances.For they exhibit the nature under investigation in its lowest degree of power,and as it were in its cradle and rudiments; striving indeed and making a sortof first attempt, but buried under and subdued by a contrary nature. Suchinstances, however, are of very great service for the discovery of forms;because as striking instances lead easily to specific differences, so areclandestine instances the best guides togenera, that is, to thosecommon natures whereof the natures proposed are nothing more than particularcases.
For example, let the nature proposed be consistency, or the nature ofthat which determines its own figure, opposed to which is fluidity. Those areclandestine instances which exhibit some feeble and low degree of consistencyin a fluid: as a bubble of water, which is a sort of consistent pellicle ofdetermined figure, made of the body of the water. Of a similar kind are thedroppings from a house, which if there be water to follow, lengthen themselvesout into a very thin thread to preserve the continuity of the water; but ifthere be not water enough to follow, then they fall in round drops, which isthe figure that best preserves the water from a solution of continuity. But atthe very moment of time when the thread of water ceases and the descent indrops begins, the water itself recoils upward to avoid discontinuation. Againin metals, which in fusion are liquid but more tenacious, the molten dropsoften fly to the top and stick there. A somewhat similar instance is that ofchildren's looking glasses, which little boys make on rushes with spittle,where also there is seen a consistent pellicle of water. This, however, is muchbetter shown in that other childish sport when they take water, made a littlemore tenacious by soap, and blow it through a hollow reed, and so shape thewater into a sort of castle of bubbles which by the interposition of the airbecome so consistent as to admit of being thrown some distance withoutdiscontinuation. But best of all is it seen in frost and snow, which assumesuch a consistency that they can be almost cut with a knife, although they areformed out of air and water, both fluids. All which facts not obscurelyintimate that consistent and fluid are only vulgar notions, and relative to thesense; and that in fact there is inherent in all bodies a disposition to shunand escape discontinuation; but that it is faint and feeble in homogeneousbodies (as fluids), more lively and strong in bodies compounded ofheterogeneous matter; the reason being that the approach of heterogeneousmatter binds bodies together, while the insinuation of homogeneous matterdissolves and relaxes them.
To take another instance, let the proposed nature be the attraction orcoming together of bodies. In the investigation of its form the most remarkablestriking instance is the magnet. But there is a contrary nature to theattractive; namely, the nonattractive, which exists in a similar substance.Thus there is iron which does not attract iron, just as lead does not attractlead, nor wood wood, nor water water. Now a clandestine instance is a magnetarmed with iron, or rather the iron in an armed magnet. For it is a fact innature that an armed magnet at some distance off does not attract iron morepowerfully than an unarmed magnet. But if the iron be brought so near as totouch the iron in the armed magnet, then the armed magnet supports a fargreater weight of iron than a simple and unarmed magnet, on account of thesimilarity of substance between the pieces of iron; an operation altogetherclandestine and latent in the iron before the magnet was applied. Hence it ismanifest that the form of coition is something which is lively and strong inthe magnet, feeble and latent in iron. Again, it has been observed that smallwooden arrows without an iron point, discharged from large engines, piercedeeper into wooden material (say the sides of ships, or the like) than the samearrows tipped with iron, on account of the similarity of substance between thetwo pieces of wood; although this property had previously been latent in thewood. In like manner, although air does not manifestly attract air or waterwater in entire bodies, yet a bubble is more easily dissolved on the approachof another bubble than if that other bubble were away, by reason of theappetite of coition between water and water, and between air and air. Suchclandestine instances (which, as I have said, are of the most signal use)exhibit themselves most conspicuously in small and subtle portions of bodies;the reason being that larger masses follow more general forms, as shall beshown in the proper place.
XXVI
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the fifth placeConstitutive Instances, which I also callManipular. They arethose which constitute a single species of the proposed nature, a sort ofLesser Form. For since the genuine forms (which are always convertible with theproposed natures) lie deep and are hard to find, it is required by thecircumstances of the case and the infirmity of the human understanding thatparticular forms, which collect together certain groups of instances (thoughnot all) into some common notion, be not neglected, but rather be diligentlyobserved. For whatever unites nature, though imperfectly, paves the way to thediscovery of forms. Instances, therefore, which are useful in this regard areof no despicable power, but have a certain prerogative.
But great caution must here be employed lest the human understanding,after having discovered many of those particular forms and thereuponestablished partitions or divisions of the nature in question, be content torest therein, and instead of proceeding to the legitimate discovery of thegreat form, take it for granted that the nature from its very roots is manifoldand divided, and so reject and put aside any further union of the nature, as athing of superfluous subtlety and verging on mere abstraction.
For example, let the proposed nature be memory, or that which excitesand aids the memory. Constitutive instances are: order or distribution, whichclearly aids the memory; also topics or "places" in artificial memory; whichmay either beplaces in the proper sense of the word, as a door, angle,window, and the like; or familiar and known persons; or any other things atpleasure (provided they be placed in a certain order), as animals, vegetables;words, too, letters, characters, historical persons, and the like; althoughsome of these are more suitable and convenient than others. Such artificialplaces help the memory wonderfully, and exalt it far above its natural powers.Again, verse is learned and remembered more easily than prose. From this groupof three instances, viz., order, artificial places, and verse, one species ofaid to the memory is constituted. And this species may with propriety be calledthe cutting off of infinity. For when we try to recollect or call a thing tomind, if we have no prenotion or perception of what we are seeking, we seek andtoil and wander here and there, as if in infinite space. Whereas, if we haveany sure prenotion, infinity is at once cut off, and the memory has not so farto range. Now in the three foregoing instances the prenotion is clear andcertain. In the first it must be something which suits the order; in the secondit must be an image which bears some relation or conformity to the placesfixed; in the third, it must be words that fall into the verse; and thusinfinity is cut off. Other instances, again, will give us this second species:that whatever brings the intellectual conception into contact with the sense(which is indeed the method most used in mnemonics) assists the memory. Otherinstances will give us this third species: that things which make theirimpression by way of a strong affection, as by inspiring fear, admiration,shame, delight, assist the memory. Other instances will give us this fourthspecies: that things which are chiefly imprinted when the mind is clear and notoccupied with anything else either before or after, as what is learned inchildhood, or what we think of before going to sleep, also things that happenfor the first time, dwell longest in the memory. Other instances will give usthis fifth species: that a multitude of circumstances or points to take hold ofaids the memory; as writing with breaks and divisions, reading or recitingaloud. Lastly, other instances will give us this sixth species: that thingswhich are waited for and raise the attention dwell longer in the memory thanwhat flies quickly by. Thus, if you read anything over twenty times, you willnot learn it by heart so easily as if you were to read it only ten, trying torepeat it between whiles, and when memory failed, looking at the book. Itappears, then, that there are six lesser forms of aids to the memory; viz.: thecutting off of infinity; the reduction of the intellectual to the sensible;impression made on the mind in a state of strong emotion; impression made onthe mind disengaged; multitude of points to take hold of; expectationbeforehand.
To take another example, let the proposed nature be taste or tasting.The following instances are Constitutive. Persons who are by nature without thesense of smell cannot perceive or distinguish by taste food that is rancid orputrid, nor food that is seasoned with garlic, or with roses, or the like.Again, persons whose nostrils are accidentally obstructed by a catarrh cannotdistinguish or perceive anything putrid or rancid or sprinkled with rosewater.Again, persons thus affected with catarrh, if while they have something fetidor perfumed in their mouth or palate they blow their nose violently,immediately perceive the rancidity or the perfume. These instances, then, willgive and constitute this species, or rather division, of taste: that the senseof taste is in part nothing else than an internal smell, passing and descendingfrom the upper passages of the nose to the mouth and palate. On the other handthe tastes of salt, sweet, sour, acid, rough, bitter, and the like, are asperceptible to those in whom the sense of smell is wanting or stopped as toanyone else; so that it is clear that the sense of taste is a sort of compoundof an internal smell and a delicate power of touch — of which this is notthe place to speak.
To take another example, let the proposed nature be the communication ofquality without admixture of substance. The instance of light will give orconstitute one species of communication; heat and the magnet another. For thecommunication of light is momentaneous, and ceases at once on the removal ofthe original light. But heat and the virtue of the magnet, after they have beentransmitted to or rather excited in a body, lodge and remain there for aconsiderable time after the removal of the source of motion.
Very great, in short, is the prerogative of constitutive instances; forthey are of much use in the forming of definitions (especially particulardefinitions) and in the division and partition of natures; with regard to whichit was not ill said by Plato, "That he is to be held as a god who knows wellhow to define and to divide."
XXVII
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the sixth placeInstancesConformable, orof Analogy; which I also callParallels, orPhysical Resemblances. They are those which represent the resemblancesand conjugations of things, not in lesser forms (as constitutive instances do)but merely in the concrete. Hence they may be called the first and lowest stepstoward the union of nature. Nor do they constitute any axiom immediately fromthe beginning, but simply point out and mark a certain agreement in bodies. Butalthough they are of little use for the discovery of forms, they neverthelessare very serviceable in revealing the fabric of the parts of the universe, andanatomizing its members; from which they often lead us along to sublime andnoble axioms, especially those which relate to the configuration of the worldrather than to simple forms and natures.
For example, these following are instances of conformity: a lookingglass and the eye; and again, the construction of the ear and places returningan echo. From which conformity, to say nothing of the mere observation of theresemblance which is in many respects useful, it is easy to gather and formthis axiom — that the organs of the senses, and bodies which producereflections to the senses, are of a like nature. Again, upon this hint theunderstanding easily rises to a higher and nobler axiom, which is this: thatthere is no difference between the consents or sympathies of bodies endowedwith sensation and those of inanimate bodies without sensation, except that inthe former an animal spirit is added to the body so disposed, but is wanting inthe latter. Whence it follows that there might be as many senses in animals asthere are sympathies between inanimate bodies, if there were perforations inthe animate body allowing the animal spirit to pass freely into a memberrightly disposed, as into a fit organ. Again, as many as are the senses inanimals, so many without doubt are the motions in an inanimate body whereanimal spirit is wanting; though necessarily there are many more motions ininanimate bodies than there are senses in animate, on account of the paucity oforgans of sense. And of this a manifest example is exhibited in pain. Forthough there are many kinds and varieties of pain in animals (as the pain ofburning, for one, of intense cold for another; again, of pricking, squeezing,stretching, and the like), it is yet most certain that all of them, as far asthe motion is concerned, exist in inanimate substances; for example, in wood orstone, when it is burned or frozen or pricked or cut or bent or stretched, andso on, though they do not enter the senses for want of the animal spirit.
Again, the roots and branches of plants (which may seem strange) areconformable instances. For all vegetable matter swells and pushes out its partsto the surface, as well upward as downward. Nor is there any other differencebetween roots and branches than that the root is buried in the ground, whilethe branches are exposed to the air and sun. For if you take a tender andflourishing branch of a tree, and bend it down into a clod of earth, althoughit does not cohere with the ground itself, it presently produces not a branchbut a root. And vice versa, if earth be placed at the top, and so kept downwith a stone or any hard substance as to check the plant and prevent it fromshooting upward, it will put forth branches into the air downward.
Again, the gums of trees, and most rock gems, are conformable instances.For both of these are nothing else than exudations and filterings of juices,the former from trees, the latter from rocks; whence is produced the splendorand clearness in each, that is, by the fine and delicate filtering. Hence, too,it is that the hairs of animals are not generally so beautiful and of so vivida color as the feathers of birds, viz., because the juices do not filter sofinely through skin as through quills.
Again, the scrotum in males and the matrix in females are conformableinstances. So that the great organic difference between the sexes (in landanimals at least) appears to be nothing more than that the one organization isexternal and the other internal. That is to say, the greater force of heat inthe male thrusts the genitals outward; whereas in the female the heat is toofeeble to effect this, and thus they are contained within.
The fins of fish, again, and the feet of quadrupeds, or the feet andwings of birds, are conformable instances; to which Aristotle has added thefour folds in the motions of serpents. Whence it appears that in the structureof the universe the motions of living creatures are generally effected by aquaternion of limbs or of bendings.
Again, the teeth of land animals and the beaks of birds are conformableinstances; from which it is manifest that in all perfect animals there is adetermination of some hard substance to the mouth.
Nor is that an absurd similitude of conformity which has been remarkedbetween man and a plant inverted. For the root of the nerves and faculties inanimals is the head, while the seminal parts are the lowest — theextremities of the legs and arms not reckoned. In a plant, on the other hand,the root (which answers to the head) is regularly placed in the lowest part,and the seeds in the highest.
To conclude, it cannot too often be recommended and enjoined that men'sdiligence in investigating and amassing natural history be henceforwardentirely changed and turned into the direction opposite to that now in use. Forhitherto men have used great and indeed overcurious diligence in observing thevariety of things, and explaining the exact specific differences of animals,herbs, and fossils; most of which are rather sports of nature than of anyserious use toward science. Such things indeed serve to delight, and sometimeseven give help in practice; but for getting insight into nature they are oflittle service or none. Men's labor therefore should be turned to theinvestigation and observation of the resemblances and analogies of things, aswell in wholes as in parts. For these it is that detect the unity of nature,and lay a foundation for the constitution of sciences.
But here must be added a strict and earnest caution, that those only areto be taken for conformable and analogous instances which indicate (as I saidat the beginning) physical resemblances, that is, real and substantialresemblances; resemblances grounded in nature, not accidental or merelyapparent; much less superstitious or curious resemblances, such as the writerson natural magic (very frivolous persons, hardly to be named in connection withsuch serious matters as we are now about) are everywhere parading —similitudes and sympathies of things that have no reality, which they describeand sometimes invent with great vanity and folly.
But to leave these. The very configuration of the world itself in itsgreater parts presents conformable instances which are not to be neglected.Take, for example, Africa and the region of Peru with the continent stretchingto the Straits of Magellan, in each of which tracts there are similar isthmusesand similar promontories, which can hardly be by accident.
Again, there is the Old and New World, both of which are broad andextended towards the north, narrow and pointed towards the south.
We have also most remarkable instances of conformity in the intense coldexisting in what is called the middle region of the air and the violent fireswhich are often found bursting forth from beneath the ground, which two thingsareultimities and extremes; that is to say, the extreme of the natureof cold toward the circumference of the sky, of heat toward the bowels of theearth, byantiperistasis or the rejection of the contrary nature.
Lastly, the conformity of instances in the axioms of science isdeserving of notice. Thus the rhetorical trope of deceiving expectation isconformable with the musical trope of avoiding or sliding from the close orcadence; the mathematical postulate that if two things are equal to the samething they are equal to one another is conformable with the rule of thesyllogism in logic which unites propositions agreeing in a middle term. Infine, a certain sagacity in investigating and hunting out physical conformitiesand similitudes is of very great use in very many cases.
XXVIII
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the seventh placeSingularInstances, which I also callIrregular orHeteroclite, toborrow a term from grammarians. They are such as exhibit bodies in theconcrete, which seem to be out of the course and broken off from the order ofnature, and not agreeing with other bodies of the same kind. For conformableinstances are like each other; singular instances are like themselves alone.The use of singular instances is the same as that of clandestine, namely, toraise and unite nature for the purpose of discovering kinds of common natures,to be afterward limited by true specific differences. For we are not to give upthe investigation until the properties and qualities found in such things asmay be taken for miracles of nature be reduced and comprehended under some formor fixed law, so that all the irregularity or singularity shall be found todepend on some common form, and the miracle shall turn out to be only in theexact specific differences, and the degree, and the rare concurrence, not inthe species itself. Whereas now the thoughts of men go no further than topronounce such things the secrets and mighty works of nature, things as it werecauseless, and exceptions to general rules.
Examples of singular instances are the sun and moon among stars; themagnet among stones; quicksilver among metals; the elephant among quadrupeds;the venereal sense among kinds of touch; the scent of hounds among kinds ofsmell. So among grammarians the letter S is held singular, on account of itseasy combination with consonants, sometimes with two, sometimes even withthree, which property no other letter has. Such instances must be regarded asmost valuable, because they sharpen and quicken investigation and help to curethe understanding depraved by custom and the common course of things.
XXIX
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the eighth placeDeviatingInstances, that is, errors, vagaries, and prodigies of nature, whereinnature deviates and turns aside from her ordinary course. Errors of naturediffer from singular instances in this, that the latter are prodigies ofspecies, the former of individuals. Their use is pretty nearly the same, forthey correct the erroneous impressions suggested to the understanding byordinary phenomena, and reveal common forms. For in these also we are not todesist from inquiry until the cause of the deviation is discovered. This cause,however, does not rise properly to any form, but simply to the latent processthat leads to the form. For he that knows the ways of nature will more easilyobserve her deviations; and on the other hand he that knows her deviations willmore accurately describe her ways.
They differ in this also from singular instances, that they give muchmore help to practice and the operative part. For to produce new species wouldbe very difficult, but to vary known species and thereby produce many rare andunusual results is less difficult. Now it is an easy passage from miracles ofnature to miracles of art. For if nature be once detected in her deviation, andthe reason thereof made evident, there will be little difficulty in leading herback by art to the point whither she strayed by accident; and that not only inone case, but also in others. For errors on one side point out and open the wayto errors and deflections on all sides. Under this head there is no need ofexamples, they are so plentiful. For we have to make a collection or particularnatural history of all prodigies and monstrous births of nature; of everythingin short that is in nature new, rare, and unusual. This must be done, however,with the strictest scrutiny, that fidelity may be ensured. Now those things areto be chiefly suspected which depend in any way on religion, as the prodigiesof Livy, and those not less which are found in writers on natural magic oralchemy, and men of that sort, who are a kind of suitors and lovers of fables.But whatever is admitted must be drawn from grave and credible history andtrustworthy reports.
XXX
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the ninth placeBorderingInstances, which I also callParticiples. They are those whichexhibit species of bodies that seem to be composed of two species, or to berudiments between one species and another. These instances might with proprietybe reckoned among singular or heteroclite instances, for in the whole extent ofnature they are of rare and extraordinary occurrence. But nevertheless fortheir worth's sake they should be ranked and treated separately, for they areof excellent use in indicating the composition and structure of things, andsuggesting the causes of the number and quality of the ordinary species in theuniverse, and carrying on the understanding from that which is to that whichmay be.
Examples of these are: moss, which holds a place between putrescence anda plant; some comets, between stars and fiery meteors; flying fish, betweenbirds and fish; bats, between birds and quadrupeds; also the ape, between manand beast —
Simia quam similis turpissima bestia nobis;
likewise the biformed births of animals, mixed of different species, andthe like.
XXXI
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the tenth placeInstancesof Power, or of theFasces (to borrow a term from the badges ofempire); which I also callInstances of the Wit, orHands of Man.These are the noblest and most consummate works in each art, exhibiting theultimate perfection of it. For since our main object is to make nature servethe business and conveniences of man, it is altogether agreeable to that objectthat the works which are already in man's power should (like so many provincesformerly occupied and subdued) be noted and enumerated, especially such as arethe most complete and perfect; because starting from them we shall find aneasier and nearer passage to new works hitherto unattempted. For if from anattentive contemplation of these a man pushes on his work with zeal andactivity, he will infallibly either advance them a little further, or turn themaside to something in their neighborhood, or even apply and transfer them tosome more noble use.
Nor is this all. But as by rare and extraordinary works of nature theunderstanding is excited and raised to the investigation and discovery of formscapable of including them, so also is this done by excellent and wonderfulworks of art, and that in a much greater degree, because the method of creatingand constructing such miracles of art is in most cases plain, whereas in themiracles of nature it is generally obscure. But with these also we must use theutmost caution lest they depress the understanding and fasten it as it were tothe ground.
For there is danger lest the contemplation of such works of art, whichappear to be the very* summits and crowning points of human industry, may soastonish and bind and bewitch the understanding with regard to them, that itshall be incapable of dealing with any other, but shall think that nothing canbe done in that kind except by the same way in which these were done —only with the use of greater diligence and more accurate preparation.
Whereas on the contrary this is certain: that the ways and means ofachieving the effects and works hitherto discovered and observed are for themost part very poor things, and that all power of a high order depends on formsand is derived in order from the sources thereof; not one of which has yet beendiscovered.
And therefore (as I have said elsewhere) if a man had been thinking ofthe war engines and battering-rams of the ancients, though he had done it withall his might and spent his whole life in it, yet he would never have lightedon the discovery of cannon acting by means of gunpowder. Nor again, if he hadfixed his observation and thought on the manufacture of wool and cotton, wouldhe ever by such means have discovered the nature of the silkworm or ofsilk.
Hence it is that all the discoveries which can take rank among thenobler of their kind have (if you observe) been brought to light, not by smallelaborations and extensions of arts, but entirely by accident. Now there isnothing which can forestall or anticipate accident (which commonly acts only atlong intervals) except the discovery of forms.
Particular examples of such instances it is unnecessary to adduce, forthere is such an abundance of them. For what we have to do is simply this: toseek out and thoroughly inspect all mechanical arts, and all liberal too (asfar as they deal with works), and make therefrom a collection or particularhistory of the great and masterly and most perfect works in every one of them,together with the mode of their production or operation.
And yet I do not tie down the diligence that should be used in such acollection to those works only which are esteemed the masterpieces andmysteries of any art, and which excite wonder. For wonder is the child ofrarity; and if a thing be rare, though in kind it be no way extraordinary, yetit is wondered at. While on the other hand things which really call for wonderon account of the difference in species which they exhibit as compared withother species, yet if we have them by us in common use, are but slightlynoticed.
Now the singularities of art deserve to be noticed no less than those ofnature, of which I have already spoken. And as among the singularities ofnature I placed the sun, the moon, the magnet, and the like — things infact most familiar, but in nature almost unique — so also must we do withthe singularities of art.
For example, a singular instance of art is paper, a thing exceedinglycommon. Now if you observe them with attention, you will find that artificialmaterials are either woven in upright and transverse threads, as silk, woolenor linen cloth, and the like; or cemented of concreted juices, as brick,earthenware, glass, enamel, porcelain, etc., which are bright if well united,but if not, are hard indeed but not bright. But all things that are made ofconcrete juices are brittle, and no way cohesive or tenacious. On the contrary,paper is a tenacious substance that may be cut or torn; so that it imitates andalmost rivals the skin or membrane of an animal, the leaf of a vegetable, andthe like pieces of nature's workmanship. For it is neither brittle like glass,nor woven as cloth; but is in fibers, not distinct threads, just like naturalmaterials; so that among artificial materials you will hardly find anythingsimilar; but it is altogether singular. And certainly among things artificialthose are to be preferred which either come nearest to an imitation of nature,or on the contrary overrule and turn her back.
Again, as instances of the wit and hand of man, we must not altogethercontemn juggling and conjuring tricks. For some of them, though in use trivialand ludicrous, yet in regard to the information they give may be of muchvalue.
Lastly, matters of superstition and magic (in the common acceptation ofthe word) must not be entirely omitted. For although such things lie burieddeep beneath a mass of falsehood and fable, yet they should be looked into alittle. For it may be that in some of them some natural operation lies at thebottom, as in fascination, strengthening of the imagination, sympathy of thingsat a distance, transmission of impressions from spirit to spirit no less thanfrom body to body, and the like.
XXXII
From what has been said it is clear that the five classes of instanceslast mentioned (namely, Instances Conformable, Singular, Deviating, Bordering,and of Power) ought not to be reserved until some certain nature be in question(as the other instances which I have placed first, and most of those that areto follow should), but a collection of them must be begun at once, as a sort ofparticular history; because they serve to digest the matters that enter theunderstanding, and to correct the ill complexion of the understanding itself,which cannot but be tinged and infected, and at length perverted and distorted,by daily and habitual impression.
These instances therefore should be employed as a sort of preparativefor setting right and purging the understanding. For whatever withdraws theunderstanding from the things to which it is accustomed, smooths and levels itssurface for the reception of the dry and pure light of true ideas.
Moreover such instances pave and prepare the way for the operative part,as will be shown in the proper place, when I come to speak of deductionsleading to Practice.
XXXIII
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the eleventh placeInstances of Companionship and of Enmity, which I also call Instances ofFixed Propositions. They are those which exhibit a body or concretesubstance in which the nature inquired into constantly attends, as aninseparable companion; or in which on the contrary it constantly retreats, andis excluded from companionship as an enemy and foe. For from such instances areformed certain and universal propositions, either affirmative or negative, inwhich the subject will be a body in concrete, and the predicate the natureitself that is in question. For particular propositions are in no case fixed. Imean propositions in which the nature in question is found in any concrete bodyto be fleeting and movable, that is to say accruing or acquired, or on theother hand departing or put away. Wherefore particular propositions have noprerogative above others, save only in the case of migration, of which I havealready spoken. Nevertheless even these particular propositions being preparedand collated with universal propositions are of great use, as shall be shown inthe proper place. Nor even in the universal propositions do we require exact orabsolute affirmation or negation. For it is sufficient for the purpose in handeven if they admit of some rare and singular exception.
The use of instances of companionship is to bring the affirmative of theform within narrow limits. For if by migratory instances the affirmative of theform is narrowed to this, that the form of the thing must needs be somethingwhich by the act of migration is communicated or destroyed; so in instances ofcompanionship, the affirmative of the form is narrowed to this, that the formof the thing must needs be something which enters as an element into such aconcretion of body, or contrariwise which refuses to enter; so that he who wellknows the constitution or configuration of such a body will not be far frombringing to light the form of the nature under inquiry.
For example, let the nature in question be heat. An instance ofcompanionship is flame. For in water, air, stone, metal, and most othersubstances, heat is variable, and may come and go, but all flame is hot, sothat heat is always in attendance on the concretion of flame. But no hostileinstance of heat is to be found here. For the senses know nothing of the bowelsof the earth, and of all the bodies which we do know there is not a singleconcretion that is not susceptible to heat.
But to take another instance: let the nature in question be consistency.A hostile instance is air. For metal can be fluid and can also be consistent;and so can glass; water also can be consistent, when it is frozen; but it isimpossible that air should ever be consistent, or put off its fluidity.
But with regard to such instances of fixed propositions I have twoadmonitions to give, which may help the business in hand. The first is that, ifa universal affirmative or negative be wanting, that very thing be carefullynoted as a thing that is not; as we have done in the case of heat, where auniversal negative (as far as the essences that have come under our knowledgeare concerned) is not to be found in the nature of things. In like manner, ifthe nature in question be eternity or incorruptibility, no universalaffirmative is to be found here. For eternity or incorruptibility cannot bepredicated of any of the bodies lying below the heavens and above the bowels ofthe earth. The other admonition is that to universal propositions, affirmativeor negative, concerning any concrete body, there be subjoined those concreteswhich seem to approach most nearly to that which is not; as in heat, thegentlest and least burning flames; in incorruptibility, gold which comesnearest to it. For all such indicate the limits of nature between that which isand that which is not, and help to circumscribe forms and prevent them fromescaping and straying beyond the conditions of matter.
XXXIV
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the twelfth place thoseSubjunctive Instances mentioned in the last aphorism, which I otherwisecallInstances of Ultimity or Limit. For such instances are not onlyuseful when subjoined to fixed propositions, but also by themselves and intheir own properties. For they point out not obscurely the real divisions ofnature and measures of things, and how far in any case nature may act or beacted upon, and then the passages of nature into something else. Of this kindare gold in weight; iron in hardness; the whale in animal bulk; the dog inscent; the combustion of gunpowder in rapid expansion; and the like. Nor shouldextremes in the lowest degree be less noticed than extremes in the highest;such as spirit of wine in weight; silk in softness; the worms of the skin inanimal bulk; and the like.
XXXV
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the thirteenth placeInstances of Alliance or Union. They are those which mingle and unitenatures supposed to be heterogeneous, and marked and set down as such in thereceived divisions.
Instances of alliance show that operations and effects attributed tosome one heterogeneous nature as peculiar to it may belong also to otherheterogeneous natures; that this supposed heterogeneity is proved to be notreal or essential, but only a modification of a common nature. They aretherefore of most excellent use in raising and elevating the understanding fromspecific differences togenera, and in dispelling phantoms and falseimages of things, which in concrete substances come before us in disguise. Forexample, let the nature in question be heat. We are told (and it seems to be adivision quite received and authorized) that there are three kinds of heat: theheat of heavenly bodies, the heat of animals, and the heat of fire; and thatthese heats (especially one of them as compared with the other two) are intheir very essence and species — that is to say, in their specific nature— distinct and heterogeneous, since the heat of heavenly bodies and ofanimals generates and cherishes, while the heat of fire wastes and destroys. Wehave, therefore, an instance of alliance in that common case, when the branchof a vine is brought within a house where a fire is constantly kept up, and thegrapes ripen on it a whole month sooner than they do out of doors; so that theripening of fruit, even while it hangs on the tree, may be brought about byfire, though such ripening would seem to be the proper work of the sun. Fromthis beginning, therefore, the understanding, rejecting the notion of essentialheterogeneity, easily rises to inquire what are in reality those points ofdifference between the heat of the sun and of fire which cause their operationsto be so dissimilar, however they may themselves partake of a commonnature.
These differences will be found to be four. The first is that the heatof the sun compared with the heat of fire is far milder and softer in degree;the second is that in quality (at least as it reaches us through the air) it isfar moister; the third (and this is the main point) is that it is exceedinglyunequal, now approaching and increased, now receding and diminished; whichthing chiefly contributes to the generation of bodies. For Aristotle was rightin asserting that the principal cause of the generations and corruptions whichare going on here on the surface of the earth is the oblique course of the sunthrough the zodiac; whence the heat of the sun, partly by the alternation ofday and night, partly by the succession of summer and winter, becomes strangelyunequal. And yet this great man must go on at once to corrupt and deprave whathe has rightly discovered. For laying down the law to nature (as his way is),he very dictatorially assigns as the cause of generation the approach of thesun, and as the cause of corruption his retreat; whereas both together (theapproach of the sun and his retreat), not respectively, but as it wereindifferently, afford a cause both for generation and production; sinceinequality of heat ministers to generation and corruption, equality toconservation only. There is also a fourth specific difference between the heatof the sun and of fire, and one of very great moment; viz., that the sunoperates by gentle action through long spaces of time, whereas the operationsof fire, urged on by the impatience of man, are made to finish their work inshorter periods. But if anyone were to set to work diligently to temper theheat of fire and reduce it to a milder and more moderate degree, as is easilydone in many ways, and were then to sprinkle and intermix a little moisture;and if above all he were to imitate the heat of the sun in its inequality; andlastly if he could submit to a slow procedure, not indeed corresponding to theoperations of the sun, but yet slower than men generally adopt in working withfire; he would speedily get rid of the notion of different kinds of heat, andwould attempt to imitate, if not equal or in some cases even surpass the worksof the sun by the heat of fire. We have a similar instance of alliance in therevival of butterflies stupefied and half dead with cold, by slightly warmingthem at a fire. So that you may easily see that fire is no more without thepower of giving life to animals than of ripening vegetables. Thus alsoFracastorius' celebrated invention of the heated pan with which doctors coverthe heads of apoplectic patients who are given over, manifestly expands theanimal spirits, compressed and all but extinguished by the humors andobstructions of the brain, and exciting them to motion, just as fire acts onair or water, by consequence quickens and gives them life. Eggs also aresometimes hatched by the heat of fire, which thus exactly imitates animal heat.And there are many instances of the same kind, so that no one can doubt thatthe heat of fire may in many subjects be modified so as to resemble the heat ofheavenly bodies and of animals.
Again, let the natures in question be motion and rest. It appears to bea received division and drawn from the depths of philosophy, that naturalbodies either move in circle, or move straight forward, or remain at rest. Forthere is either motion without limit, or rest at a limit, or progress toward alimit. Now, that perpetual motion of rotation seems to be proper to theheavenly bodies, station or rest seems to belong to the globe of the earth,while other bodies (which they call heavy or light, being indeed placed out ofthe region to which they naturally belong) are carried toward the masses orcongregations of their likes; light bodies upward toward the circumference ofthe heaven, heavy bodies downward towards the earth. And this is prettytalk.
But we have an instance of alliance in one of the lower comets, whichthough far below the heaven, nevertheless revolve. And Aristotle's fiction of acomet being tied to or following some particular star has long been exploded,not only because the reason for it is not probable, but because we havemanifest experience of the discursive and irregular motion of comets throughvarious parts of the sky.
Again, another instance of alliance on this subject is the motion ofair, which within the tropics, where the circles of rotation are larger, seemsitself also to revolve from east to west.
Again, another instance would be the ebb and flow of the sea, if it befound that the waters themselves are carried in a motion of rotation (howeverslow and evanescent) from east to west, though subject to the condition ofbeing driven back twice in the day. For if things be so, it is manifest thatthat motion of rotation is not limited to heavenly bodies, but is shared alsoby air and water.
Even that property of light substances, viz., that they tend upward, issomewhat at fault. And on this point a bubble of water may be taken as aninstance of alliance. For if there be air under the water it rapidly ascends tothe surface by that motion of percussion (as Democritus calls it) by which thedescending water strikes and raises the air upward; not by any effort orstruggle of the air itself. And when it is come to the surface of the water,then the air is stopped from further ascent by a slight resistance it meetswith in the water, which does not immediately allow itself to be separated; sothat the desire of air to ascend must be very slight.
Again, let the nature in question be weight. It is quite a receiveddivision that dense and solid bodies move toward the center of the earth, rareand light toward the circumference of the heaven, as to their proper places.Now as for this notion of places, though such things prevail in the schools, itis very silly and childish to suppose that place has any power. Thereforephilosophers do but trifle when they say that if the earth were bored through,heavy bodies would stop on reaching the center. Certainly it would be awonderful and efficacious sort of nothing, or mathematical point, which couldact on bodies, or for which bodies could have desire, for bodies are not actedon except by bodies. But this desire of ascending and descending depends eitheron the configuration of the body moved or on its sympathy or consent with someother body. Now if there be found any body which, being dense and solid, doesnot move to the earth, there is an end of this division. But if
Gilbert's opinion be received, that the earth's magnetic power ofattracting heavy bodies does not extend beyond the orb of its virtue (whichacts always to a certain distance and no more), and if this opinion be verifiedby a single instance, in that we shall have got at last an instance of allianceon the subject of weight. But at present there does not occur any instance onthis subject certain and manifest. What seems to come nearest to one is that ofthe waterspouts, often seen in the voyage over the Atlantic Ocean toward eitherof the Indies. For so great is the quantity and mass of water suddenlydischarged by these waterspouts that they seem to have been collections ofwater made before, and to have remained hanging in these places, and afterwardto have been rather thrown down by some violent cause, than to have fallen bythe natural motion of gravity. So that it may be conjectured that a dense andcompact mass, at a great distance from the earth, would hang like the earthitself and not fall unless thrust down. But on this point I affirm nothingcertain. Meanwhile in this and many other cases it will easily be seen how poorwe are in natural history, when in place of certain instances I am sometimescompelled to adduce as examples bare suppositions.
Again, let the nature in question be discourse of reason. Thedistinction between human reason and the sagacity of brutes appears to be aperfectly correct one. Yet there are certain instances of actions performed byanimals, by which it seems that brutes too have some power of syllogizing; asin the old story of the crow which, in a time of great drought being half deadwith thirst, saw some water in the hollow trunk of a tree, and finding it toonarrow to get in, proceeded to drop in a number of pebbles till the water rosehigh enough for it to drink; and this afterward passed into a proverb.
Again, let the nature in question be visibility. It appears to be a verycorrect and safe division which regards light as primarily visible, andaffording the power of seeing; while color is secondarily visible, and cannotbe seen without light, so that it appears to be nothing more than an image ormodification of light. And yet there appear to be instances of alliance oneither side, namely, snow in great quantities, and the flame of sulphur; in oneof which there appears to be a color primarily giving light, in the other alight verging on color.
XXXVI
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the fourteenth placeInstances of the Fingerpost, borrowing the term from the fingerpostswhich are set up where roads part, to indicate the several directions. These Ialso callDecisive and Judicial, and in some cases,Oracular andCommanding Instances. I explain them thus. When in the investigation ofany nature the understanding is so balanced as to be uncertain to which of twoor more natures the cause of the nature in question should be assigned onaccount of the frequent and ordinary concurrence of many natures, instances ofthe fingerpost show the union of one of the natures with the nature in questionto be sure and indissoluble, of the other to be varied and separable; and thusthe question is decided, and the former nature is admitted as the cause, whilethe latter is dismissed and rejected. Such instances afford very great lightand are of high authority, the course of interpretation sometimes ending inthem and being completed. Sometimes these instances of the fingerpost meet usaccidentally among those already noticed, but for the most part they are new,and are expressly and designedly sought for and applied, and discovered only byearnest and active diligence.
For example, let the nature in question be the ebb and flow of the sea;each of which is repeated twice a day, and takes six hours each time, subjectto some slight difference which coincides with the motion of the moon. Thefollowing will be a case of the parting of the roads.
This motion must necessarily be caused either by the advance and retreatof the waters, as water shaken in a basin leaves one side when it washes theother; or else by a lifting up of the waters from the bottom and falling again,as water in boiling rises and falls. The question is to which of these twocauses the ebb and flow should be assigned. Now, if we take the first, itfollows that when there is a flood on one side of the sea, there must be at thesame time an ebb somewhere on the other. To this point therefore the inquiry isbrought. Now it has been observed by Acosta and others, after careful research,that on the shores of Florida and the opposite shores of Spain and Africa thefloods take place at the same times, and the ebbs take place at the same timesalso; and not that there is an ebb from the shores of Spain and Africa whenthere is a flood on the shores of Florida. And yet if you look at it moreclosely, this does not prove the case in favor of the rising and against theprogressive motion. For waters may move in progression, and yet rise upon theopposite shores of the same channel at the same time, as when they are thrusttogether and driven on from some other quarter. For so it is with rivers, whichrise and fall on both banks at the same hours. And yet that motion is clearlyone of progression, namely, of the waters entering the mouth of the rivers fromthe sea. It may therefore happen in a like manner that waters coming in a vastmass from the East Indian Ocean are driven together and pushed into the channelof the Atlantic, and on that account flood both sides at once. We must inquiretherefore whether there be any other channel in which the water can beretreating and ebbing at that same time; and we have the South Sea, a sea atleast as wide, indeed wider and larger than the Atlantic, which is sufficientfor the purpose.
At length then, we have come to an instance of the fingerpost in thiscase, and it is this. If we find for certain that when there is a flood on theopposite coasts of Florida and Spain in the Atlantic, there is also a flood onthe coasts of Peru and the back of China in the South Sea, then indeed on theauthority of this decisive instance we must reject the assertion that the ebband flow of the sea, which is the thing inquired into, takes place by aprogressive motion; for there is no sea or place left in which the retreat orebbing can be going on at the same time. And this may be most convenientlyascertained by asking the inhabitants of Panama and Lima (where the two oceans,the Atlantic and Pacific, are separated by a small isthmus) whether the ebb andflow of the sea takes place on the opposite sides of the isthmus at the sametime; or contrariwise, when it is ebbing on one side it is flowing on theother. Now this decision or rejection appears to be certain, if we take it forgranted that the earth is immovable. But if the earth revolves, it is perhapspossible that in consequence of the unequal rotation (in point of speed) of theearth and waters of the sea, the waters are violently driven upwards into aheap, which is the flood, and (when they can bear no more piling) released andlet down again, which is the ebb. But on this inquiry should be madeseparately. Still, even on this hypothesis, our position remains equally fixed,that there must of necessity be an ebb of the sea going on in some parts at thesame time that a flood is going on in others.
Again, let the nature in question be the latter of the two motions wehave supposed, namely, the rising and sinking motion, if on careful examinationwe reject the former motion of which I spoke — the progressive. Withregard to this nature the road branches into three. For the motion by which thewaters rise in the flood and sink in the ebb without any accession of otherwaters rolling in, must necessarily be brought about in one of these threeways. Either there is an accession of water poured out from the interior of theearth, and again retreating into it; or there is no accession to the mass ofwater, but the same waters (without increase of quantity) are extended orrarefied so as to occupy a greater space and dimension, and again contractthemselves; or there is no increase either of supply or of extension, but thesame waters (the same in quantity as in density) are raised by some magneticforce attracting them from above, and by consent therewith, and then fall backagain. Let us now dismiss the two former causes of motion and reduce ourinquiry to the last; that is to say, let us inquire whether any such raising byconsent or magnetic force may happen. Now in the first place it is evident thatthe waters, as they lie in the trench or hollow of the sea, cannot all beraised at once for want of something to take their place at the bottom; so thateven if there were in water any such desire to rise, it would be barred andchecked by the cohesion of things, or (as it is commonly called) the abhorrenceof a vacuum. It remains that the waters must be raised in one part, and therebybe diminished and retreat in another. Again, it will follow of necessity thatthe magnetic force, since it cannot act upon the whole, will act with thegreatest intensity on the middle, so as to raise up the water in the middle;upon which the rest must follow and fall away from the sides.
Thus at length we come to an instance of the fingerpost on this subject.For if we find that in the ebb of the sea the surface of the water is morearched and round, the waters rising in the middle of the sea and falling awayfrom the sides, that is, the shores; and that in the flood the same surface ismore even and level, the waters returning to their former position; then indeedon the authority of this decisive instance the raising by magnetic force may beadmitted; otherwise it must be utterly rejected. And this would not bedifficult to ascertain by trial in straits with sounding lines, viz., whetherduring ebbs the sea be not higher or deeper toward the middle than duringfloods. It is to be observed however that, if this be the case, the waters must(contrary to the common opinion) rise in ebbs and sink in floods, so as toclothe and wash the shores.
Again, let the nature investigated be the spontaneous motion ofrotation, and in particular whether the diurnal motion whereby to our eyes thesun and stars rise and set, be a real motion of rotation in the heavenlybodies, or a motion apparent in the heavenly bodies, and real in the earth. Wemay here take for an instance of the fingerpost the following. If there befound in the ocean any motion from east to west, however weak and languid; ifthe same motion be found a little quicker in the air, especially within thetropics, where because of the larger circles it is more perceptible; if thesame motion be found in the lower comets, but now lively and vigorous; if thesame motion be found in planets, but so distributed and graduated that thenearer a planet is to the earth its motion is slower, the further a planet isdistant from the earth its motion is quicker, and quickest of all in the starrysphere; then indeed we should receive the diurnal motion as real in theheavens, and deny such motion to the earth. Because it will be manifest thatmotion from east to west is perfectly cosmical, and by consent of the universe,being most rapid in the highest parts of the heavens, and gradually fallingoff, and finally stopping and becoming extinct in the immovable — that is,the earth.
Again, let the nature in question be that other motion of rotation somuch talked of by philosophers, the resistant and contrary motion to thediurnal, viz., from west to east, which old philosophers attribute to theplanets, also to the starry sphere, but Copernicus and his followers to theearth as well. And let us inquire whether any such motion be found in nature,or whether it be not rather a thing invented and supposed for the abbreviationand convenience of calculation, and for the sake of that pretty notion ofexplaining celestial motions by perfect circles. For this motion in the heavensis by no means proved to be true and real, either by the failing of a planet toreturn in its diurnal motion to the same point of the starry sphere, or bythis, that the poles of the zodiac differ from the poles of the world; to whichtwo things we owe this idea of motion. For the first phenomenon is wellaccounted for by supposing that the fixed stars outrun the planets and leavethem behind; the second, by supposing a motion in spiral lines; so that theinequality of return and the declination to the tropics may rather bemodifications of the one diurnal motion than motions contrary or rounddifferent poles. And most certain it is, if one may but play the plain man fora moment (dismissing the fancies of astronomers and schoolmen, whose way it isto overrule the senses, often without reason, and to prefer what is obscure),that this motion does actually appear to the sense such as I have described;for I once had a machine made with iron wires to represent it.
The following would be an instance of the fingerpost on this subject. Ifit be found in any history worthy of credit that there has been any comet,whether high or low, which has not revolved in manifest agreement (howeverirregular) with the diurnal motion, but has revolved in the opposite direction,then certainly we may set down thus much as established, that theremaybe in nature some such motion. But if nothing of the kind can be found, itmust be regarded as questionable, and recourse be had to other instances of thefingerpost about it.
Again, let the nature in question be weight or heaviness. Here the roadwill branch into two, thus. It must needs be that heavy and weighty bodieseither tend of their own nature to the center of the earth, by reason of theirproper configuration; or else that they are attracted by the mass and body ofearth itself as by the congregation of kindred substances, and move to it bysympathy. If the latter of these be the cause, it follows that the nearer heavybodies approach to the earth, the more rapid and violent is their motion to it;and that the further they are from the earth, the feebler and more tardy istheir motion (as is the case with magnetic attraction); and that this action isconfined to certain limits. So that if they were removed to such a distancefrom the earth that the earth's virtue could not act upon them, they wouldremain suspended like the earth itself, and not fall at all. With regard tothis, then, the following would be an instance of the fingerpost. Take a clockmoved by leaden weights, and another moved by the compression of an ironspring. Let them be exactly adjusted, that one go not faster or slower than theother. Then place the clock moving by weights on the top of a very highsteeple, keeping the other down below, and observe carefully whether the clockon the steeple goes more slowly than it did on account of the diminished virtueof its weights. Repeat the experiment in the bottom of a mine, sunk to a greatdepth below the ground; that is, observe whether the clock so placed does notgo faster than it did on account of the increased virtue of its weights. If thevirtue of the weights is found to be diminished on the steeple and increased inthe mine, we may take the attraction of the mass of the earth as the cause ofweight.
Again, let the nature investigated be the polarity of the iron needlewhen touched with the magnet. With regard to this nature the road will branchinto two, thus. Either the touch of the magnet of itself invests the iron withpolarity to the north and south; or it simply excites and prepares the iron,while the actual motion is communicated by the presence of the earth, asGilbert thinks, and labors so strenuously to prove. To this point thereforetend the observations which he has collected with great sagacity and industry.One is, that an iron nail which has lain for a long time in a direction betweennorth and south gathers polarity without the touch of the magnet by its longcontinuance in this position; as if the earth itself, which on account of thedistance acts but feebly (the surface or outer crust of the earth beingdestitute, as he insists, of magnetic power), were yet able by this longcontinuance to supply the touch of the magnet and excite the iron, and thenshape and turn it when excited. Another is, that if iron that has been heatedwhite-hot be, while cooling, laid lengthwise between north and south, it alsoacquires polarity without the touch of the magnet; as if the parts of the iron,set in motion by ignition and afterwards recovering themselves, were at thevery moment of cooling more susceptible and sensitive to the virtue emanatingfrom the earth than at other times, and thus became excited by it. But thesethings, though well observed, do not quite prove what he asserts.
Now with regard to this question an instance of the fingerpost would bethe following. Take a magnetic globe and mark its poles; and set the poles ofthe globe toward the east and west, not toward the north and south, and letthem remain so. Then place at the top an untouched iron needle, and allow it toremain in this position for six or seven days.
The needle while over the magnet (for on this point there is no dispute)will leave the poles of the earth and turn toward the poles of the magnet; andtherefore, as long as it remains thus, it points east and west. Now if it befound that the needle, on being removed from the magnet and placed on a pivot,either starts off at once to the north and south, or gradually turns in thatdirection, then the presence of the earth must be admitted as the cause; but ifit either points as before east and west, or loses its polarity, this causemust be regarded as questionable, and further inquiry must be made.
Again, let the nature in question be the corporeal substance of themoon; that is, let us inquire whether it be rare, consisting of flame or air,as most of the old philosophers opined, or dense and solid, as Gilbert and manymoderns, with some ancients, maintain. The reasons for the latter opinion restchiefly on this, that the moon reflects the rays of the sun; nor does lightseem to be reflected except by solid bodies. Therefore instances of thefingerpost on this question will (if any) be those which prove that reflectionmay take place from a rare body, as flame, provided it be of sufficientdenseness. Certainly, one cause of twilight, among others, is the reflection ofthe rays of the sun from the upper part of the air. Likewise we occasionallysee rays of the sun in fine evenings reflected from the fringes of dewy cloudswith a splendor not inferior to that reflected from the body of the moon, butbrighter and more gorgeous; and yet there is no proof that these clouds havecoalesced into a dense body of water. Also we observe that the dark air behinda window at night reflects the light of a candle, just as a dense body would.We should also try the experiment of allowing the sun's rays to shine through ahole on some dusky bluish flame. For indeed the open rays of the sun, fallingon the duller kinds of flame, appear to deaden them so that they seem more likewhite smoke than flame. These are what occur to me at present as instances ofthe fingerpost with reference to this question, and better may perhaps befound. But it should always be observed that reflection from flame is not to beexpected, except from a flame of some depth, for otherwise it borders ontransparency. This however may be set down as certain — that light on aneven body is always either received and transmitted or reflected.
Again, let the nature in question be the motion of projectiles (darts,arrows, balls, etc.) through the air. This motion the schoolmen, as their wayis, explain in a very careless manner, thinking it enough to call it a violentmotion as distinguished from what they call a natural motion; and to accountfor the first percussion or impulse by the axiom that two bodies cannot occupythe same place on account of the impenetrability of matter, and not troublingthemselves at all how the motion proceeds afterward. But with reference to thisinquiry the road branches into two in this way. Either this motion is caused bythe air carrying the projected body and collecting behind it, as the stream inthe case of a boat, or the wind in that of straws; or it is caused by the partsof the body itself not enduring the impression, but pushing forward insuccession to relieve themselves from it. The former of these explanations isadopted by Fracastorius and almost all who have entered into the investigationwith any subtlety, and there is no doubt that the airhas something todo with it. But the other notion is undoubtedly the true one, as is shown bycountless experiments. Among others the following would be an instance of thefingerpost on this subject: that a thin iron plate or stiffish iron wire, oreven a reed or pen split in half, when pressed into a curve between the fingerand thumb, leaps away. For it is obvious that this motion cannot be imputed tothe air gathering behind the body, because the source of motion is in themiddle of the plate or reed, not in the extremities.
Again, let the nature in question be the rapid and powerful motion ofthe expansion of gunpowder into flame, by which such vast masses are upheaved,such great weights discharged, as we see in mines and mortars. With respect tothis nature the road branches into two in this way. The motion is excitedeither by the mere desire of the body to expand when set on fire, or partly bythat and partly by the desire of the crude spirit in the body, which fliesrapidly away from the fire and bursts violently from its embrace as from aprison house. The schoolmen and common opinion deal only with the formerdesire. For men fancy themselves very fine philosophers when they assert thatthe flame is endowed by its elementary form with a necessity of occupying alarger space than the body had filled when in the form of powder, and thathence the motion ensues. Meanwhile, they forget to notice that although this betrue on the supposition that flame is generated, it is yet possible for thegeneration of flame to be hindered by a mass of matter sufficient to suppressand choke it; so that the case is not reduced to the necessity they insist on.For that expansion must necessarily take place, and that there must needsfollow thereon a discharge or removal of the opposing body, if flame begenerated, they rightly judge. But this necessity is altogether avoided if thesolid mass suppress the flame before it be generated. And we see that flame,especially in its first generation, is soft and gentle, and requires a hollowspace wherein to play and try its strength. Such violence therefore cannot beattributed to flame by itself. But the fact is that the generation of thesewindy flames, or fiery winds as they may be called, arises from a conflict oftwo bodies of exactly opposite natures; the one being highly inflammable, whichis the nature of sulphur, the other abhorring flame, as the crude spirit inniter. So that there ensues a strange conflict, the sulphur kindling into flamewith all its might (for the third body, the willow charcoal, does no more thanincorporate and combine the other two), while the spirit of the niter burstsforth with all its might and at the same time dilates itself (as air, water,and all crude bodies do when affected by heat), and by thus flying and burstingout fans meanwhile the flame of the sulphur on all sides as with hiddenbellows.
On this subject we may have instances of the fingerpost of two kinds.The first, of those bodies which are most highly inflammable, as sulphur,camphor, naphtha and the like, with their compounds, which catch fire morequickly and easily than gunpowder if not impeded (from which it appears thatthe desire of bursting into flame does not produce by itself that stupendouseffect); the other, of those bodies which shun and abhor flame, as all salts.For we find that if salts are thrown into the fire their aqueous spirit burstsout with a crackling noise before flame is caught; which is the case also,though in a milder degree, with the stiffer kinds of leaves, the aqueous partescaping before the oily catches fire. But this is best seen in quicksilver,which is not inaptly called mineral water. For quicksilver, without burstinginto flame, by mere eruption and expansion almost equals the force ofgunpowder, and is also said, when mixed with gunpowder, to increase itsstrength.
Again, let the nature in question be the transitory nature of flame andits instantaneous extinction. For the nature of flame appears to have no fixedconsistency here with us, to be every moment generated and every momentextinguished; for it is clear that in flames which continue and last, thecontinuance we see is not of the same individual flame, but is caused by asuccession of new flame regularly generated. Nor does the flame remainnumerically identical, as is easily seen from this, that if the food or fuel offlame be taken away, the flame instantly goes out. With reference to thisnature the roads branch into two, thus: the instantaneous nature proceedseither from a cessation of the cause which at first produced the flame, as inlight, sound, and the motion called "violent"; or from this, that the flame,though able by its own nature to remain with us, suffers violence and isdestroyed by the contrary natures that surround it.
On this subject therefore we may take the following as an instance ofthe fingerpost. We see in large fires how high the flames ascend, for thebroader the base of the flame, the higher is its vertex. Thus extinctionappears to commence at the sides, where the flame is compressed and troubled bythe air. But the heart of the flame, which is not touched by the air butsurrounded by other flame on all sides, remains numerically identical; nor isit extinguished until gradually compressed by the surrounding air. Thus allflame is in the form of a pyramid, being broader at the base where the fuel is,but sharp at the vertex, where the air is antagonistic and fuel is wanting. Butsmoke is narrow at the base and grows broader as it ascends, like an invertedpyramid; the reason being that the air admits smoke and compresses flame. Forlet no one dream that lighted flame is air, when in fact they are substancesquite heterogeneous.
But we may have an instance of the fingerpost more nicely adapted tothis purpose, if the thing can be made manifest with bicolored lights. Fix alighted wax taper in a small metal stand; place the stand in the middle of abowl, and pour round it spirit of wine, but not enough to reach the top of thestand. Then set fire to the spirit of wine. The spirit of wine will yield abluish, the taper a yellow flame. Observe therefore whether the flame of thetaper (which is easily distinguished by its color from the flame of the spiritof wine, since flames do not mix at once, as liquids do) remains in a conicalor rather tends to a globular form, now that there is nothing to destroy orcompress it. If the latter is found to be the case, it may be set down ascertain that flame remains numerically identical as long as it is enclosedwithin other flame and feels not the antagonistic action of the air.
Let this suffice for instances of the fingerpost. I have dwelt on themat some length to the end that men may gradually learn and accustom themselvesto judge of nature by instances of the fingerpost and experiments of light, andnot by probable reasonings.
XXXVII
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the fifteenth placeInstances of Divorce, which indicate the separation of natures of mostfamiliar occurrence. They differ from the instances subjoined to the instancesof companionship, in that the latter indicate the separation of a nature fromsome concrete substance with which it is ordinarily in conjunction, while theseinstances indicate the separation of one nature from another. They differ frominstances of the fingerpost, in that they determine nothing, but simply notifythe separability of one nature from another. Their use is to detect false formsand to dissipate slight theories suggested by what lies on the surface, and soserve as ballast to the understanding.
For example, let the natures investigated be those four natures whichTelesius accounts as messmates and chamber fellows, namely: heat, brightness,rarity, mobility or promptness to motion. We find, however, many instances ofdivorce between them. For air is rare and mobile, not hot or bright; the moonis bright without heat; boiling water is hot without light; the motion of aniron needle on a pivot is quick and nimble, and yet the body is cold, dense,and opaque; and there are many more of the kind.
Again, let the natures investigated be corporeal nature and naturalaction. For it seems that natural action is not found except as subsisting insome body. Yet in this case also we shall perhaps be able to find some instanceof divorce; such, for example, as magnetic action, by which iron is drawn tothe magnet, heavy bodies to the globe of the earth. There may also be addedsome other operations performed at a distance. For such action takes place bothin time, occupying moments not a mere instant of time, and in space, passingthrough degrees and distances. There is therefore some moment of time, and somedistance of space, in which the virtue or action remains suspended between thetwo bodies which produce the motion. The question therefore is brought to this:whether the bodies which are the limits of the motion dispose or alter theintermediate bodies, so that by a succession of actual contacts the virtuepasses from limit to limit, meanwhile subsisting in the intermediate body; orwhether there is no such thing, but only the bodies, the virtue, and thedistances. In rays of light, indeed, and sounds, and heat, and certain otherthings acting at a distance, it is probable that the intermediate bodies aredisposed and altered, the more so because they require a medium qualified forcarrying on the operation. But that magnetic or attractive virtue admits ofmedia without distinction, nor is the virtue impeded in any kind of medium. Andif the virtue or action has nothing to do with the intermediate body, itfollows that there is a natural virtue or action subsisting for a certain timeand in a certain space without a body, since it neither subsists in thelimiting nor in the intermediate bodies. And therefore magnetic action may bean instance of divorce between corporeal nature and natural action. To whichmay be appended as a corollary or advantage not to be omitted that here is aproof furnished by merely human philosophy of the existence of essences andsubstances separate from matter and incorporeal. For allow that natural virtueand action, emanating from a body, can exist for a certain time and in acertain space altogether without a body, and you are not far from allowing thatit can also emanate originally from an incorporeal substance. For corporealnature appears to be no less requisite for sustaining and conveying naturalaction than for exciting or generating it.
XXXVIII
Now follow five classes of instances which under one general name I callInstances of the Lamp, or ofFirst Information. They are thosewhich aid the senses. For since all interpretation of nature commences with thesenses and leads from the perceptions of the senses by a straight, regular, andguarded path to the perceptions of the understanding, which are true notionsand axioms, it follows of necessity that the more copious and exact therepresentations of the senses, the more easily and prosperously will everythingproceed.
Of these five instances of the lamp, the first strengthen, enlarge, andrectify the immediate actions of the senses; the second make manifest thingswhich are not directly perceptible by means of others which are; the thirdindicate the continued processes or series of those things and motions whichare for the most part unobserved except in their end or periods; the fourthprovide the sense with some substitute when it utterly fails; the fifth excitethe attention and notice of the sense, and at the same time set bounds to thesubtlety of things. Of these I shall now speak in their order.
XXXIX
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the sixteenth placeInstances of the Door or Gate, this being the name I give to instanceswhich aid the immediate actions of the senses. Now of all the senses it ismanifest that sight has the chief office in giving information. This is thesense, therefore, for which we must chiefly endeavor to procure aid. Now theaids to sight are of three kinds: it may be enabled to perceive objects thatare not visible; to perceive them further off; and to perceive them moreexactly and distinctly.
Of the first kind (not to speak of spectacles and the like, which serveonly to correct or relieve the infirmity of a defective vision, and thereforegive no more information) are those recently invented glasses which disclosethe latent and invisible minutiae of bodies and their hidden configurations andmotions by greatly increasing their apparent size; instruments by the aid ofwhich the exact shape and outline of body in a flea, a fly, a worm, and alsocolors and motions before unseen, are not without astonishment discerned. It isalso said that a straight line drawn with a pen or pencil is seen through suchglasses to be very uneven and crooked, the fact being that neither the motionof the hand, though aided by a ruler, nor the impression of the ink or color,is really even, although the unevenness is so minute that it cannot be detectedwithout such glasses. And here (as is usual in things new and wonderful) a kindof superstitious observation has been added, viz., that glasses of this sort dohonor to the works of nature but dishonor to the works of art. The truthhowever is only this, that natural textures are far more subtle thanartificial. For the microscope, the instrument I am speaking of, is onlyavailable for minute objects. So that if Democritus had seen one, he wouldperhaps have leaped for joy, thinking a way was now discovered of discerningthe atom, which he had declared to be altogether invisible. The incompetencyhowever of such glasses, except for minutiae alone, and even for them whenexisting in a body of considerable size, destroys the use of the invention. Forif it could be extended to larger bodies, or to the minutiae of larger bodies,so that the texture of a linen cloth could be seen like network, and thus thelatent minutiae and inequalities of gems, liquors, urine, blood, wounds, etc.,could be distinguished, great advantages might doubtless be derived from thediscovery.
Of the second kind are those other glasses discovered by the memorableefforts of Galileo, by the aid of which, as by boats or vessels, a nearerintercourse with the heavenly bodies can be opened and carried on. For theseshow us that the Milky Way is a group or cluster of small stars entirelyseparate and distinct, of which fact there was but a bare suspicion among theancients. They seem also to point out that the spaces of the planetary orbits,as they are called, are not altogether destitute of other stars, but that theheaven begins to be marked with stars before we come to the starry sphereitself, although with stars too small to be seen without these glasses. Withthis instrument we can descry those small stars wheeling as in a dance roundthe planet Jupiter, whence it may be conjectured that there are several centersof motion among the stars. With this the inequalities of light and shade in themoon are more distinctly seen and placed, so that a sort of selenography can bemade. With this we descry spots on the sun, and similar phenomena — allindeed noble discoveries, so far as we may safely trust to demonstrations ofthis kind, which I regard with suspicion chiefly because the experiment stopswith these few discoveries, and many other things equally worthy ofinvestigation are not discovered by the same means.
Of the third kind are measuring rods, astrolabes, and the like, which donot enlarge the sense of sight, but rectify and direct it. And if there areother instances which aid the remaining senses in their immediate andindividual actions, and yet are of a kind which add nothing to the informationalready possessed; they are not to the present purpose, and therefore I haveomitted to mention them.
XL
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the seventeenth placeSummoning Instances, borrowing the name from the courts of law, becausethey summon objects to appear which have not appeared before. I also call themEvoking Instances. They are those which reduce the nonsensible to thesensible, that is, make manifest things not directly perceptible by means ofothers which are.
An object escapes the senses either on account of its distance; or onaccount of the interposition of intermediate bodies; or because it is notfitted for making an impression on the sense; or because it is not sufficientin quantity to strike the sense; or because there is not time enough for it toact on the sense; or because the impression of the object is such as the sensecannot bear; or because the sense has been previously filled and occupied byanother object, so that there is not room for a new motion. These cases havereference principally to the sight, and secondarily to the touch. For these twosenses give information at large and concerning objects in general, whereas theother three give hardly any information but what is immediate and relates totheir proper objects.
In the first kind, where an object is imperceptible by reason of itsdistance, there is no way of manifesting it to the sense but by joining to itor substituting for it some other object which may challenge and strike thesense from a greater distance — as in communication by beacons, bells, andthe like.
In the second kind, this reduction or secondary manifestation iseffected when objects that are concealed by the interposition of bodies withinwhich they are enclosed and cannot conveniently be opened out are made manifestto the sense by means of those parts of them which lie on the surface, or maketheir way from the interior. Thus the condition of the human body is known bythe state of the pulse, urine, and the like.
In the third and fourth kind, reductions are applicable to a great manythings, and in the investigations of nature should be sought for on all sides.For example, it is obvious that air and spirit, and like bodies, which in theirentire substance are rare and subtle, can neither be seen nor touched.Therefore, in the investigation of bodies of this kind it is altogethernecessary to resort to reductions.
Thus let the nature in question be the action and motion of the spiritenclosed in tangible bodies. For everything tangible that we are acquaintedwith contains an invisible and intangible spirit which it wraps and clothes aswith a garment. Hence that three-fold source, so potent and wonderful, of theprocess of the spirit in a tangible body. For the spirit in a tangiblesubstance, if discharged, contracts bodies and dries them up; if detained,softens and melts them; if neither wholly discharged nor wholly detained, givesthem shape, produces limbs, assimilates, digests, ejects, organizes, and thelike. And all these processes are made manifest to the sense by conspicuouseffects.
For in every tangible inanimate body the enclosed spirit firstmultiplies itself and, as it were, feeds upon those tangible parts which arebest disposed and prepared for that purpose and so digests and elaborates andturns them into spirit; and then they escape together. Now this elaboration andmultiplication of the spirit is made manifest to the sense by diminution ofweight. For in all desiccation there is some decrease of quantity, not only ofthe quantity of spirit previously existing in the body, but also of the bodyitself, which was before tangible and is newly changed. For spirit is withoutweight. Now the discharge or emission of the spirit is made manifest to thesense in the rust of metals and other similar putrefactions which stop shortbefore they come to the rudiments of life; for these belong to the third kindof process. For in compact bodies the spirit finds no pores or passages throughwhich to escape and is therefore compelled to push and drive before it thetangible parts themselves, so that they go out along with it; whence proceedrust and the like. On the other hand the contraction of the tangible partsafter some of the spirit is discharged (upon which desiccation ensues), is mademanifest to the sense not only by the increased hardness of the body, but muchmore by the rents, contractions, wrinklings, and shrivelings in the body whichthereupon take place. For the parts of wood split asunder and are contracted;skins shrivel; and not only that, but if the spirit is suddenly discharged bythe heat of fire, they hasten so fast to contraction as to curl and rollthemselves up.
On the contrary, where the spirit is detained and yet expanded andexcited by heat or something analogous thereto (as happens in the more solid ortenacious bodies), then are bodies softened, as white hot iron; or they becomefluid, as metals; or liquid, as gums, wax, and the like. Thus the contraryoperations of heat, which hardens some substances and melts others, are easilyreconciled, since in the former the spirit is discharged, in the latter it isexcited and detained; whereof the melting is the proper action of the heat andspirit, the hardening is the action of the tangible parts only on occasion ofthe discharge of the spirit.
But when the spirit is neither wholly detained nor wholly discharged,but only makes trials and experiments within its prison house, and meets withtangible parts that are obedient and ready to follow, so that wheresoever thespirit leads they go along with it, then ensues the forming of an organic bodyand the development of organic parts, and all the other vital actions as wellin vegetable as in animal substances. And these operations are made manifest tothe sense chiefly by careful observation of the first beginnings and rudimentsor essays of life in animalculae generated from putrefaction, as in ants' eggs,worms, flies, frogs after rain, etc. There is required, however, for theproduction of life both mildness in the heat and pliancy in the substance, thatthe spirit may neither be so hurried as to break out, nor be confined by theobstinacy of the parts, but may rather be able to mold and model them likewax.
Again, that most noble distinction of spirit which has so manyapplications (viz., spirit cut off; spirit simply branching; spirit at oncebranching and cellulate — of which the first is the spirit of allinanimate substances, the second of vegetables, the third of animals), isbrought as it were before the eyes by several instances of this kind ofreduction.
In like manner it appears that the more subtle textures andconfigurations of things (though the entire body be visible or tangible) areperceptible neither to the sight nor touch. And therefore in these also, ourinformation comes by way of reduction. Now the most radical and primarydifference between configurations is drawn from the abundance or scantiness ofthe matter occupying the same space or dimensions. For all other configurations(which have reference to the dissimilarity of the parts contained in the samebody, and to their collocation and position) are but secondary in comparisonwith the former.
Thus let the nature in question be the expansion or coition of matter inbodies compared one with another, viz., how much matter occupies how much spacein each. For there is nothing more true in nature than the twin propositionsthat "nothing is produced from nothing," and "nothing is reduced to nothing,"but that the absolute quantum or sum total of matter remains unchanged, withoutincrease or diminution. Nor is it less true that of that quantum of matter moreor less is contained under the same space or dimensions according to thediversity of bodies; as in water more, in air less. So that to assert that agiven volume of water can be changed into an equal volume of air is as much asto say that something can be reduced to nothing; as on the other hand tomaintain that a given volume of air can be turned into an equal volume of wateris the same as to say that something can be produced out of nothing. And it isfrom this abundance and scantiness of matter that the abstract notions of denseand rare, though variously and promiscuously used, are, properly speaking,derived. We must also take for granted a third proposition which is alsosufficiently certain, viz., that this greater or less quantity of matter inthis or that body is capable of being reduced by comparison to calculation andto exact or nearly exact proportions. Thus one would be justified in assertingthat in any given volume of gold there is such an accumulation of matter, thatspirit of wine, to make up an equal quantity of matter, would requiretwenty-one times the space occupied by the gold.
Now the accumulation of matter and its proportions are made manifest tothe sense by means of weight. For the weight answers to the quantity of matterin the parts of a tangible body, whereas spirit and the quantum of matter whichit contains cannot be computed by weight, for it rather diminishes the weightthan increases it. But I have drawn up a very accurate table on this subject,in which I have noted down the weights and volumes of all the metals, theprincipal stones, woods, liquors, oils, and many other bodies, natural as wellas artificial — a thing of great use in many ways, as well for light ofinformation as for direction in practice, and one that discloses many thingsquite beyond expectation. Not the least important of which is this — itshows that all the variety in tangible bodies known to us (such bodies I meanas are tolerably compact and not quite spongy and hollow, and chiefly filledwith air) does not exceed the limit of the ratio of 1 to 21 — so limitedis nature, or at any rate that part of it with which we have principally todo.
I have also thought it worth while to try whether the proportions can becalculated which intangible or pneumatic bodies bear to bodies tangible. This Iattempted by the following contrivance. I took a glass phial, capable ofholding about an ounce, using a small vessel that less heat might be requiredto produce evaporation. This phial I filled with spirit of wine almost to theneck, selecting spirit of wine, because I found by the former table that of alltangible bodies (which are well united and not hollow) this is the rarest andcontains the least quantity of matter in a given space. After that, I notedexactly the weight of the spirit and phial together. I then took a bladdercapable of holding about a quart from which I squeezed out, as well as I could,all the air, until the two sides of the bladder met. The bladder I hadpreviously rubbed over gently with oil, to make it closer, and having thusstopped up the pores, if there were any, I inserted the mouth of the phialwithin the mouth of the bladder, and tied the latter tightly round the formerwith a thread smeared with wax in order that it might stick more closely andtie more firmly. After this I set the phial on a chafing dish of hot coals.Presently the steam or breath of the spirit of wine, which was dilated andrendered pneumatic by the heat, began gradually to expand the bladder andswelled it out on all sides like a sail. When this took place, I immediatelytook the glass off the fire, placing it on a carpet that it might not crackwith the cold, at the same time making a hole in the bladder lest the steamshould turn liquid again on the cessation of the heat and so disturb thecalculations. I then removed the bladder, and weighing the spirit of wine whichremained, computed how much had been converted into steam or air. Then,comparing the space which the body had occupied while it was spirit of wine inthe phial with the space which it afterward occupied when it had becomepneumatic in the bladder, I computed the results, which showed clearly that thebody had acquired by the change a degree of expansion a hundred times greaterthan it had had before.
Again, let the nature in question be heat or cold, in a degree too weakto be perceptible to the sense. These are made manifest to the sense by acalendar glass such as I have described above. For the heat and cold are notthemselves perceptible to the touch, but the heat expands the air, and the coldcontracts it. Nor again is this expansion and contraction of the airperceptible to the sight, but the expansion of the air depresses the water, thecontraction raises it, and so at last is made manifest to the sight; notbefore, nor otherwise.
Again, let the nature in question be the mixture of bodies, viz., whatthey contain of water, oil, spirit, ash, salt, and the like; or (to take aparticular instance) what quantity of butter, curd, whey, etc., is contained inmilk. These mixtures, so far as relates to tangible elements, are made manifestto the sense by artificial and skillful separations. But the nature of thespirit in them, though not immediately perceived, is yet discovered by thedifferent motions and efforts of the tangible bodies in the very act andprocess of their separation and also by the acridities and corrosions, and bythe different colors, smells, and tastes of the same bodies after separation.And in this department men have labored hard, it is true, with distillationsand artificial separations, but not with much better success than in the otherexperiments which have been hitherto in use. For they have but groped in thedark and gone by blind ways and with efforts painstaking rather thanintelligent, and (what is worst of all), without attempting to imitate oremulate nature, but rather destroying by the use of violent heats andoverstrong powers all that more subtle configuration in which the occultvirtues and sympathies of things chiefly reside. Nor do they remember orobserve, while making such separations, the circumstances which I haveelsewhere pointed out, namely, that when bodies are tormented by fire or othermeans, many qualities are communicated by the fire itself and by the bodiesemployed to effect the separation which did not exist previously in thecompound; whence strange fallacies have arisen. For it must not be supposedthat all the vapor which is discharged from water by the action of fire wasformerly vapor or air in the body of the water, the fact being that thegreatest part of it was created by the expansion of the water from the heat ofthe fire.
So in general, all the nice tests of bodies whether natural orartificial by which the genuine are distinguished from the adulterated, thebetter from the viler sort, should be referred to this division; for they makemanifest to the sense things not directly perceptible by means of those whichare. They should therefore be sought and collected from all quarters withdiligent care.
With regard to the fifth way in which objects escape the sense, it isobvious that the action of sense takes place in motion, and that motion takesplace in time. If therefore the motion of any body be either so slow or soquick that it bears no proportion to the moments which the sense takes to actin, the object is not perceived at all, as in the motion of the hand of a clockand again in the motion of a musket ball. Now motion which is too slow to beperceived is easily and usually made manifest to the sense by means ofaggregates of motion. Motion which is too quick has not hitherto beencompetently measured, and yet the investigation of nature requires that this bedone in some cases.
In the sixth kind, where the sense is hindered by the too great power ofthe object, the reduction may be effected either by removing the object to agreater distance from the sense; or by deadening its effects by theinterposition of a medium which will weaken without annihilating the object; orby admitting and receiving the reflection of the object where the directimpression is too powerful, as that of the sun, for instance, in a basin ofwater.
The seventh cause, where the sense is so charged with one object that ithas no room for the admission of another, is almost wholly confined to thesense of smell and has little to do with the matter in hand. So much then forthe reduction of the nonsensible to the sensible — or the modes of makingmanifest to the sense things not directly perceptible by means of others whichare.
Sometimes, however, the reduction is made not to the sense of a man, butof some other animal whose sense in some cases is keener than man's; as ofcertain scents to the sense of a dog; of the light which is latent in air whennot illumined from without to the sense of a cat, owl, and similar animalswhich see in the dark. For Telesius has justly observed that there is in theair itself a certain original light, though faint and weak, and hardly of anyuse to the eyes of men and most animals; inasmuch as animals to whose sensethis light is adapted see in the dark, which it is hardly to be believed theydo either without light, or by a light within.
Observe also that at present I am dealing with the deficiencies of thesenses and their remedies. The deceptions of the senses must be referred to theparticular inquiries concerning sense and the objects of sense, excepting onlythat grand deception of the senses, in that they draw the lines of nature withreference to man and not with reference to the universe; and this is not to becorrected except by reason and universal philosophy.
XLI
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the eighteenth placeInstances of the Road, which I also callTraveling Instances andArticulate Instances. They are those which point out the motions ofnature in their gradual progress. This class of instances escapes theobservation rather than the sense. For it is strange how careless men are inthis matter; for they study nature only by fits and at intervals, and whenbodies are finished and completed, not while she is at work upon them. Yet ifanyone were desirous of examining and studying the contrivances and industry ofan artificer, he would not be content with beholding merely the rude materialsof the art and then the completed works, but would rather wish to be presentwhile the artificer was at his labors and carrying his work on. And a likecourse should be taken with the investigation of nature. For instance, if weare inquiring into the vegetation of plants, we must begin from the very sowingof the seed, and observe (as we may easily do, by taking out day after day theseeds that have lain in the ground two days, three days, four days, and so on,and carefully examining them) how and when the seed begins to puff and swelland to be, as it were, filled with spirit; secondly, how it begins to burst theskin and put forth fibers, at the same time raising itself slightly upwards,unless the ground be very stiff; also, how it puts forth its fibers, some forthe root downwards and some for the stem upwards, and sometimes also creepingsideways if it there finds the ground more open and yielding; and so with manyother things of the kind. In the same way we should examine the hatching ofeggs, in which we might easily observe the whole process of vivification andorganization, and see what parts proceed from the yolk and what from the whiteof the egg, and so forth. A similar course should be taken with animalsgenerated from putrefaction. For to prosecute such inquiries concerning perfectanimals by cutting out the fetus from the womb would be too inhuman, exceptwhen opportunities are afforded by abortions, the chase, and the like. Thereshould therefore be set a sort of night watch over nature, as showing herselfbetter by night than by day. For these may be regarded as night studies byreason of the smallness of our candle and its continual burning.
The same too should be attempted with inanimate substances, as I havedone myself in investigating the expansion of liquids by fire. For there is onemode of expansion in water, another in wine, another in vinegar, another inverjuice, and quite another in milk and oil; as was easily to be seen byboiling them over a slow fire and in a glass vessel in which everything may beclearly distinguished. These matters, however, I touch but briefly, meaning totreat of them more fully and exactly when I come to the discovery of theLatent Process of things. For it should all along be borne in mind thatin this place I am not handling the things themselves, but only givingexamples.
XLII
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the nineteenth placeSupplementary orSubstitutive Instances, which I also callInstances of Refuge. They are those which supply information when thesenses entirely fail us, and therefore we fly to them when appropriateinstances are not to be had. Now substitution is made in two ways: either bygradual approximation or by analogy. To take an example: There is no mediumknown by the interposition of which the operation of the magnet in drawing ironis entirely prevented. Gold placed between does not stop it, nor silver, norstone, nor glass, wood, water, oil, cloth or fibrous substances, air, flame,etc. But yet by nice tests some medium may possibly be found to deaden itsvirtue more than any other; comparatively, that is, and in some degree. Thus itmay be that the magnet would not attract iron as well through a mass of gold asthrough an equal space of air, or through ignited silver as well as throughcold; and so in other cases. For I have not made the trial myself in thesecases. It is enough to propose such experiments by way of example. Again, thereis no body we are acquainted with which does not contract heat on being broughtnear the fire. And yet air contracts heat much more quickly than stone. Such isthe substitution which is made by gradual approximation.
Substitution by analogy is doubtless useful, but is less certain, andshould therefore be applied with some judgment. It is employed when things notdirectly perceptible are brought within reach of the sense, not by perceptibleoperations of the imperceptible body itself, but by observation of some cognatebody which is perceptible. For example, suppose we are inquiring into themixture of spirits, which are invisible bodies. There seems to be a certainaffinity between bodies and the matter that feeds or nourishes them. Now thefood of flame seems to be oil and fat substances; of air, water and waterysubstances; for flame multiplies itself over exhalations of oil, air over thevapor of water. We should therefore look to the mixture of water and oil, whichmanifests itself to the sense, since the mixture of air and flame escapes thesense. Now oil and water, which are mingled together very imperfectly bycomposition or agitation, are in herbs and blood and the parts of animals verysubtly and finely mingled. It is possible, therefore, that something similarmay be the case with the mixture of flame and air in pneumatic bodies, which,though not readily mingling by simple commixture, yet seem to be mingledtogether in the spirits of plants and animals, especially as all animate spiritfeeds on moist substances of both kinds, watery and fat, as its properfood.
Again, if the inquiry be not into the more perfect mixtures of pneumaticbodies but simply into their composition, that is, whether they be readilyincorporated together; or whether there be not rather, for example, certainwinds and exhalations or other pneumatic bodies which do not mix with commonair, but remain suspended and floating therein in globules and drops and arerather broken and crushed by the air than admitted into or incorporated with it— this is a thing which cannot be made manifest to the senses in commonair and other pneumatic bodies, by reason of their subtlety. Yet how far thething may take place we may conceive, by way of image or representation, fromwhat takes place in such liquids as quicksilver, oil, or water, and likewisefrom the breaking up of air when it is dispersed in water and rises in littlebubbles; and again in the thicker kinds of smoke; and lastly, in dust raisedand floating in the air; in all of which cases no incorporation takes place.Now the representation I have described is not a bad one for the matter inquestion, provided that diligent inquiry has been first made whether there canbe such a heterogeneity in pneumatic bodies as we find there is in liquids. Forif there can, then these images by analogy may not inconveniently besubstituted.
But with regard to these supplementary instances, although I stated thatinformation was to be derived from them in the absence of instances proper, asa last resource, yet I wish it to be understood that they are also of great useeven when proper instances are at hand — for the purpose, I mean, ofcorroborating the information which the others supply. But I shall treat ofthem more fully when I come in due course to speak of theSupports ofInduction.
XLIII
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the twentieth placeDissecting Instances, which I also callAwakening Instances, butfor a different reason. I call them awakening, because they awaken theunderstanding; dissecting, because they dissect nature. For which reason also Isometimes call themDemocritean. They are those which remind theunderstanding of the wonderful and exquisite subtlety of nature, so as to stirit up and awaken it to attention and observation and due investigation. Such,for example, as these following: that a little drop of ink spreads to so manyletters or lines; that silver gilt stretches to such a length of gilt wire;that a tiny worm, such as we find in the skin, possesses in itself both spiritand a varied organization; that a little saffron tinges a whole hogshead ofwater; that a little civet or musk scents a much larger volume of air; that alittle incense raises such a cloud of smoke; that such exquisite differences ofsounds, as articulate words, are carried in every direction through the air,and pierce even, though considerably weakened, through the holes and pores ofwood and water, and are moreover echoed back, and that too with suchdistinctness and velocity; that light and color pass through the solidsubstances of glass and water so speedily, and in so wide an extent, and withsuch copious and exquisite variety of images, and are also refracted andreflected; that the magnet acts through bodies of all sorts, even the mostcompact; and yet (which is more strange) that in all these, passing as they dothrough an indifferent medium (such as the air is), the action of one does notmuch interfere with the action of another. That is to say, that at the sametime there are carried through spaces of air so many images of visible objects,so many impressions of articulate sound, so many distinct odors, as of aviolet, rose, etc.; moreover, heat and cold and magnetic influences — all(I say) at once without impeding one another, just as if they had their ownroads and passages set apart, and none ever struck or ran against other. Tothese dissecting instances it is useful however to subjoin instances which Icall limits of dissection, as that in the cases above mentioned, though oneaction does not disturb or impede another action of a different kind, yet oneaction does overpower and extinguish another action of the same kind; as thelight of the sun extinguishes that of a glowworm; the report of a cannon drownsthe voice; a strong scent overpowers a more delicate one; an intense heat amilder one; a plate of iron interposed between a magnet and another piece ofiron destroys the action of the magnet. But this subject also will find itsproper place among the supports of induction.
XLIV
So much for instances which aid the senses, instances which are chieflyuseful for the informative part of our subject. For information commences withthe senses. But the whole business terminates in works, and as the former isthe beginning, so the latter is the end of the matter. I will proceed thereforewith the instances which are pre-eminently useful for the operative part. Theyare of two kinds, and seven in number, though I call them all by the generalname ofPractical Instances. In the operative part there are two defectsand two corresponding prerogatives of instances. For operation either fails usor it overtasks us. The chief cause of failure in operation (especially afternatures have been diligently investigated) is the ill determination andmeasurement of the forces and actions of bodies. Now the forces and actions ofbodies are circumscribed and measured, either by distances of space, or bymoments of time, or by concentration of quantity, or by predominance of virtue.And unless these four things have been well and carefully weighed we shall havesciences fair perhaps in theory, but in practice inefficient. The fourinstances which are useful in this point of view I class under one head asMathematical Instances andInstances of Measurement.
Operation comes to overtask us, either through the admixture of uselessmatters, or through the multiplicity of instruments, or through the bulk of thematerial and of the bodies that may happen to be required for any particularwork. Those instances therefore ought to be valued which either direct practiceto the objects most useful to mankind; or which save instruments; or whichspare material and provision. The three instances which serve us here I classtogether asPropitious orBenevolent Instances. These seveninstances I will now discuss separately, and with them conclude that divisionof my subject which relates to the Prerogative or Rank of Instances.
XLV
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the twenty-first placeInstances of the Rod or Rule, which I also callInstances ofRange orof Limitation. For the powers and motions of things act andtake effect at distances not indefinite or accidental, but finite and fixed; sothat to ascertain and observe these distances in the investigation of theseveral natures is of the greatest advantage to practice, not only to preventits failure but also to extend and increase its power. For we are sometimesenabled to extend the range of powers and, as it were, to diminish distances,as for instance by the use of telescopes.
Most of these powers act and take effect only by manifest contact, as inthe impact of two bodies, where the one does not move the other from its placeunless they touch each other. Also medicines that are applied externally, asointments or plasters, do not exert their virtues without touching the body.Finally, the objects of the taste and touch do not strike those senses unlessthey be contiguous to the organs.
There are also powers which act at a distance, though a very small one;and of these only a few have been hitherto observed, albeit there are many morethan men suspect; as (to take common examples) when amber or jet attractsstraws; bubbles dissolve bubbles on being brought together; certain purgativemedicines draw humors downward, and the like. So, too, the magnetic power bywhich iron and a magnet, or two magnets, are made to meet, operates within afixed but narrow sphere of action; but if there be any magnetic virtue flowingfrom the earth (a little below the surface), and acting on a steel needle inrespect of its polarity, the action operates at a great distance.
Again, if there be any magnetic power which operates by consent betweenthe globe of the earth and heavy bodies, or between the globe of the moon andthe waters of the sea (as seems highly probable in the semimenstrual ebbs andfloods), or between the starry sphere and the planets whereby the latter areattracted to their apogees, all these must operate at very great distances.There are found also certain materials which catch fire a long way off, as weare told the naphtha of Babylon does. Heat also insinuates itself at greatdistances, as also does cold; insomuch that by the inhabitants of Canada themasses of ice that break loose and float about the northern ocean and are bornethrough the Atlantic toward that coast are perceived at a great distance by thecold they give out. Perfumes also (though in these there appears to be always acertain corporeal discharge) act at remarkable distances, as those find whosail along the coasts of Florida or some parts of Spain, where there are wholewoods of lemon and orange and like odoriferous trees, or thickets of rosemary,marjoram, and the like. Lastly, the radiations of light and impressions ofsound operate at vast distances.
But whether the distances at which these powers act be great or small,it is certain that they are all finite and fixed in the nature of things, sothat there is a certain limit never exceeded, and a limit which depends eitheron the mass or quantity of matter in the bodies acted on; or on the strength orweakness of the powers acting; or on the helps or hindrances presented by themedia in which they act — all which things should be observed and broughtto computation. Moreover, the measurements of violent motions (as they arecalled), as of projectiles, guns, wheels, and the like, since these also havemanifestly their fixed limits, should be observed and computed.
There are found also certain motions and virtues of a contrary nature tothose which operate by contact and not at a distance, namely, those whichoperate at a distance and not by contact; and again those which operate morefeebly at a lesser distance, and more powerfully at a greater. The act of sightfor instance is not well performed in contact but requires a medium and adistance. Yet I remember being assured by a person of veracity that he himselfunder an operation for the cataract, when a small silver needle was insertedwithin the first coat of the eye in order to remove the pellicle of thecataract and push it into a corner, saw most distinctly the needle passing overthe very pupil. But though this may be true, it is manifest that large bodiesare not well or distinctly seen except at the vertex of a cone, the rays fromthe object converging at a certain distance from it. Moreover, old people seeobjects better at a little distance than if quite close. In projectiles, too,it is certain that the impact is not so violent at too small a distance as itis a little further off. These, therefore, and like things should be observedin the measurements of motions with regard to distances.
There is also another kind of local measurement of motions which mustnot be omitted. This has to do with motions not progressive, but spherical,that is, with the expansion of bodies into a greater sphere or theircontraction into a less. For among our measurements of motions we must inquirewhat degree of compression or extension bodies (according to their nature)easily and freely endure, and at what point they begin to resist, till at lastthey will bear no more. Thus, when a blown bladder is compressed, it allows acertain compression of the air, but if the compression be increased the airdoes not endure it and the bladder bursts.
But this same thing I have tested more accurately by a subtleexperiment. I took a small bell of metal, light and thin, such as is used forholding salt, and plunged it into a basin of water so that it carried down withit the air contained in its cavity to the bottom of the basin, where I hadpreviously placed a small globe, on which the bell was to light. I found thenthat if the globe was small enough in proportion to the cavity, the aircontracted itself into a less space and was simply squeezed together, notsqueezed out. But if it was too large for the air to yield freely, then theair, impatient of greater pressure, raised the bell on one side and rose to thesurface in bubbles.
Again, to test the extension as well as compression of which air wassusceptible, I had recourse to the following device. I took a glass egg with asmall hole at one end of it, and, having drawn out the air through the hole byviolent suction, I immediately stopped up the hole with my finger and plungedthe egg into water, and then took away my finger. The air, having been extendedby the suction and dilated beyond its natural dimensions, and thereforestruggling to contract itself again (so that if the egg had not been plungedinto the water it would have drawn in air with a hissing sound), now drew inwater in sufficient quantities to allow the air to recover its old sphere ordimension.
Now it is certain that the rarer bodies (such as air) allow aconsiderable degree of contraction, as has been stated, but that tangiblebodies (such as water) suffer compression with much greater difficulty and to alesser extent. How far they do suffer it I have investigated in the followingexperiment. I had a hollow globe of lead made, capable of holding about twopints, and sufficiently thick to bear considerable force. Having made a hole init, I filled it with water and then stopped up the hole with melted lead, sothat the globe became quite solid. I then flattened two opposite sides of theglobe with a heavy hammer, by which the water was necessarily contracted intoless space, a sphere being the figure of largest capacity. And when thehammering had no more effect in making the water shrink, I made use of a millor press, till the water, impatient of further pressure, exuded through thesolid lead like a fine dew. I then computed the space lost by the compressionand concluded that this was the extent of compression which the water hadsuffered, but only when constrained by great violence.
But the compression or extension endured by more solid, dry, or morecompact bodies, such as wood, stones and metals, is still less than this, andscarcely perceptible. For they free themselves either by breaking, or by movingforward, or by other efforts, as is apparent in the bending of wood or metal,in clocks moving by springs, in projectiles, hammerings, and numberless othermotions. And all these things with their measures should in the investigationof nature be explored and set down, either in their certitude, or by estimate,or by comparison, as the case will admit.
XLVI
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the twenty-second placeInstances of the Course, which I also callInstances of theWater, borrowing the term from the hourglasses of the ancients, whichcontained water instead of sand. These measure nature by periods of time, asthe instances of the rod by degrees of space. For all motion or natural actionis performed in time, some more quickly, some more slowly, but all in periodsdetermined and fixed in the nature of things. Even those actions which seem tobe performed suddenly and (as we say) in the twinkling of an eye, are found toadmit of degree in respect to duration.
First, then, we see that the revolutions of heavenly bodies areaccomplished in calculated times, as also the flux and reflux of the sea. Themotion of heavy bodies to the earth, and of light bodies toward the heavens, isaccomplished in definite periods, varying with the bodies moved and the mediumthrough which they move. The sailing of ships, the movements of animals, thetransmission of missiles, are all performed likewise in times which admit (inthe aggregate) of measurement. As for heat, we see boys in wintertime bathetheir hands in flame without being burned, and jugglers by nimble and equablemovements turn vessels full of wine or water upside down and then up againwithout spilling the liquid; and many other things of a similar kind. Thecompressions also and expansions and eruptions of bodies are performed, somemore quickly, some more slowly, according to the nature of the body and motion,but in certain periods.
Moreover, in the explosion of several guns at once, which are heardsometimes to the distance of thirty miles, the sound is caught by those who arenear the spot where the discharge is made sooner than by those who are at agreater distance. Even in sight, whereof the action is most rapid, it appearsthat there are required certain moments of time for its accomplishment, as isshown by those things which by reason of the velocity of their motion cannot beseen — as when a ball is discharged from a musket. For the ball flies pastin less time than the image conveyed to the sight requires to produce animpression.
This fact, with others like it, has at times suggested to me a strangedoubt, viz., whether the face of a clear and starlit sky be seen at the instantat which it really exists, and not a little later; and whether there be not, asregards our sight of heavenly bodies, a real time and an apparent time, justlike the real place and apparent place which is taken account of by astronomersin the correction for parallaxes. So incredible did it appear to me that theimages or rays of heavenly bodies could be conveyed at once to the sightthrough such an immense space and did not rather take a perceptible time intraveling to us. But this suspicion as to any considerable interval between thereal time and the apparent afterward vanished entirely when I came to think ofthe infinite loss and diminution of quantity which distance causes inappearance between the real body of the star and its seen image; and at thesame time when I observed the great distance (sixty miles at the least) atwhich bodies merely white are instantly seen here on earth; while there is nodoubt that the light of heavenly bodies exceeds many times over in force ofradiation not merely the vivid color of whiteness, but also the light of everyflame that is known to us. Again, the immense velocity in the body itself asdiscerned in its daily motion (which has so astonished certain grave men thatthey preferred believing that the earth moved) renders this motion ofejaculation of rays therefrom (although wonderful, as I have said, in speed)more easy of belief. But what had most weight of all with me was that if anyperceptible interval of time were interposed between the reality and the sight,it would follow that the images would oftentimes be intercepted and confused byclouds rising in the meanwhile, and similar disturbances in the medium. Andthus much for the simple measures of time.
But not only must we seek the measure of motions and actions bythemselves but much more in comparison, for this is of excellent use and verygeneral application. Now we find that the flash of a gun is seen sooner thanits report is heard, although the ball must necessarily strike the air beforethe flame behind it can get out. And this is owing, it seems, to the motion oflight being more rapid than that of sound. We find, too, that visible imagesare received by the sight faster than they are dismissed. Thus the strings of aviolin when struck by the finger are to appearance doubled or tripled, becausea new image is received before the old one is gone; which is also the reasonwhy rings being spun round look like globes, and a lighted torch, carriedhastily at night, seems to have a tail. And it was upon this inequality ofmotions in point of velocity that Galileo built his theory of the flux andreflux of the sea, supposing that the earth revolved faster than the watercould follow, and that the water therefore first gathered in a heap and thenfell down, as we see it do in a basin of water moved quickly. But this hedevised upon an assumption which cannot be allowed, viz., that the earth moves,and also without being well informed as to the sexhorary motion of thetide.
But an example of the thing I am treating of, to wit, the comparativemeasures of motions — and not only of the thing itself, but also of itseminent use (of which I spoke just now) — is conspicuous in mining withgunpowder where vast masses of earth, buildings, and the like are upset andthrown into the air by a very small quantity of powder. The cause of which isdoubtless this: that the motion of expansion in the impelling powder is quickermany times over than the motion of the resisting gravity, so that the firstmotion is over before the countermotion is begun, and thus at first theresistance amounts to nothing. Hence too it happens that in projectiles it isnot the strong blow but the sharp and quick that carries the body furthest. Norwould it be possible for the small quantity of animal spirit in animals,especially in such huge creatures as the whale or elephant, to bend and guidesuch a vast mass of body were it not for the velocity of the spirit's motion,and the slowness of the bodily mass in exerting its resistance.
This one thing indeed is a principal foundation of the experiments innatural magic (of which I shall speak presently) wherein a small mass of matterovercomes and regulates a far larger mass — I mean the contriving that oftwo motions one shall by its superior velocity get the start and take effectbefore the other has time to act.
Lastly, this distinction of foremost and hindmost ought to be observedin every natural action. Thus in an infusion of rhubarb the purgative virtue isextracted first, the astringent afterward. And something of the kind I havefound on steeping violets in vinegar, where the sweet and delicate scent of theflower is extracted first, and then the more earthy part of the flower, whichmars the scent. Therefore, if violets be steeped in vinegar for a whole day thescent is extracted much more feebly, but if you keep them in for a quarter ofan hour only and then take them out, and (since the scented spirit in violetsis small) put in fresh violets every quarter of an hour as many as six times,the infusion is at last so enriched that although there have not been violetsin the vinegar, however renewed, for more than an hour and a half altogether,there nevertheless remains in it a most grateful odor, as strong as the violetitself, for an entire year. It should be observed, however, that the odor doesnot gather its full strength till after a month from the time of infusion. Inthe distillation too of aromatic herbs crushed in spirit of wine, it appearsthat there first rises an aqueous and useless phlegm, then a water containingmore of the spirit of wine, and lastly, a water containing more of the aroma.And of this kind there are to be found in distillations a great many factsworthy of notice. But let these suffice for examples.
XLVII
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the twenty-third placeInstances of Quantity, which (borrowing a term from medicine) I alsocallDoses of Nature. These are they which measure virtues according tothequantity of the bodies in which they subsist and show how far themode of the virtue depends upon thequantity of the body. Andfirst there are certain virtues which subsist only in a cosmical quantity, thatis, such a quantity as has consent with the configuration and fabric of theuniverse. The earth for instance stands fast; its parts fall. The waters inseas ebb and flow; but not in rivers, except through the sea coming up.Secondly, almost all particular virtues act according to the greater or lessquantity of the body. Large quantities of water corrupt slowly, small onesquickly. Wine and beer ripen and become fit to drink much more quickly inbottles than in casks. If an herb be steeped in a large quantity of liquid,infusion takes place rather than impregnation; if in a small, impregnationrather than infusion. Thus in its effect on the human body a bath is one thing,a slight sprinkling another. Light dews, again, never fall in the air but aredispersed and incorporated with it. And in breathing on precious stones you maysee the slight moisture instantly dissolved, like a cloud scattered by thewind. Once more, a piece of a magnet does not draw so much iron as the wholemagnet. On the other hand there are virtues in which smallness of quantity hasmore effect, as in piercing, a sharp point pierces more quickly than a bluntone; a pointed diamond cuts glass, and the like.
But we must not stay here among indefinites, but proceed to inquire whatproportion the quantity of a body bears to the mode of its virtue. Forit would be natural to believe that the one was equal to the other; so that ifa bullet of an ounce weight falls to the ground in a given time, a bullet oftwo ounces ought to fall twice as quickly, which is not the fact. Nor do thesame proportions hold in all kinds of virtues, but widely different. Thesemeasures, therefore, must be sought from experiment, and not from likelihood orconjecture.
Lastly, in all investigation of nature the quantity of body — thedose, as it were — required to produce any effect must be set down, andcautions as to the too little and too much be interspersed.
XLVIII
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the twenty-fourth placeInstances of Strife, which I also callInstances of Predominance.These indicate the mutual predominance and subjection of virtues: which of themis stronger and prevails, which of them is weaker and gives way. For themotions and efforts of bodies are compounded, decomposed, and complicated, noless than the bodies themselves. I will therefore first propound the principalkinds of motions or active virtues in order that we may be able more clearly tocompare them together in point of strength, and thereby to point out anddesignate more clearly the instances of strife and predominance.
Let the first motion be that motion ofresistance in matter whichis inherent in each several portion of it, and in virtue of which it absolutelyrefuses to be annihilated. So that no fire, no weight or pressure, no violence,no length of time can reduce any portion of matter, be it ever so small, tonothing, but it will ever be something, and occupy some space; and, to whateverstraits it may be brought, will free itself by changing either its form or itsplace; or if this may not be, will subsist as it is; and will never come tosuch a pass as to be either nothing or nowhere. This motion the Schoolmen (whoalmost always name and define things rather by effects and incapacities than byinner causes) either denote by the axiom "two bodies cannot be in one place,"or call "the motion to prevent penetration of dimensions." Of this motion it isunnecessary to give examples, as it is inherent in every body.
Let the second motion be what I call motion ofconnection, bywhich bodies do not suffer themselves to be separated at any point from contactwith another body, as delighting in mutual connection and contact. This motionthe Schoolmen call "motion to prevent a vacuum," as when water is drawn up bysuction or in a pump; the flesh by cupping glasses; or when water stops withoutrunning out in perforated jars unless the mouth of the jar be opened to let inthe air; and in numberless instances of a similar kind.
Let the third motion be what I call motion ofliberty, by whichbodies strive to escape from preternatural pressure or tension and to restorethemselves to the dimensions suitable to their nature. Of this motion also wehave innumerable examples, such as (to speak first of escape from pressure) themotion of water in swimming, of air in flying, of water in rowing, of air inthe undulations of winds, of a spring in clocks — of which we have also apretty instance in the motion of the air compressed in children's popguns, whenthey hollow out an alder twig or some such thing and stuff it up at both endswith a piece of pulpy root or the like, and then with a ramrod thrust one ofthe roots or whatever the stuffing be toward the other hole, from which theroot at the further end is discharged with a report, and that before it istouched by the nearer root or the ramrod. As for bodies escaping from tension,this motion displays itself in air remaining in glass eggs after suction; instrings, in leather and in cloth, which recoil after tension, unless it hasgained too great strength by continuance; and in similar phenomena. This motionthe Schoolmen refer to under the name of "motion in accordance with the form ofthe element"; an injudicious name enough, since it is a motion which belongsnot only to fire, air, and water, but to every variety of solid substance, aswood, iron, lead, cloth, parchment, etc.; each of which bodies has its ownproper limit of dimension out of which it cannot easily be drawn to anyconsiderable extent. But since this motion of liberty is of all the mostobvious, and is of infinite application, it would be a wise thing todistinguish it well and clearly. For some very carelessly confuse this motionwith the two former motions of resistance and connection, the motion, that is,of escape from pressure with the motion of resistance; of escape from tensionwith the motion of connection — just as if bodies when compressed yield orexpand, that there may not ensue penetration of dimensions; and, whenstretched, recoil and contract, that there may not ensue a vacuum. Whereas ifair when compressed had a mind to contract itself to the density of water, orwood to the density of stone, there would be no necessity for penetration ofdimensions, yet there might be a far greater compression of these bodies thanthey ever do actually sustain. In the same way, if water had a mind to expandto the rarity of air, or stone to the rarity of wood, there would be no needfor a vacuum to ensue, and yet there might be effected a far greater extensionof these bodies than they ever do actually sustain. Thus the matter is neverbrought to a penetration of dimensions or to a vacuum, except in the extremelimits of condensation and rarefaction, whereas the motions of which I speakstop far short of these limits, and are nothing more than desires which bodieshave for preserving themselves in their consistencies (or, if the Schoolmenlike, in their forms), and not suddenly departing therefrom unless they bealtered by gentle means, and with consent. But it is far more necessary(because much depends upon it) that men should know that violent motion (whichwe call mechanical, but which Democritus, who in expounding his primary motionsis to be ranked even below second-rate philosophers, called motion of stripe)is nothing more than this motion of liberty, that is, of escape fromcompression to relaxation. For either in a mere thrust, or in flight throughthe air, there occurs no movement or change of place until the parts of thebody moved are acted upon and compressed by the impelling body more than theirnature will bear. Then, indeed, when each part pushes against the next, oneafter the other, the whole is moved. And it not only moves forward, butrevolves at the same time, the parts seeking in that way also to freethemselves or to distribute the pressure more equally. And so much for thismotion.
Let the fourth motion be that to which I have given the name of themotion ofmatter, which is in some sort the converse of the last namedmotion. For in the motion of liberty bodies dread, loathe, and shun a newdimension, or a new sphere, or new expansion or contraction (which are allnames for the same thing), and strive with all their might to recoil, andrecover their old consistency. On the contrary, in this motion of matter bodiesdesire a new sphere or dimension and aspire thereto readily and quickly, andsometimes, as in the case of gunpowder, with most violent effort. Now theinstruments of this motion, not indeed the sole, but the most potent, or at anyrate the most common, are heat and cold. For instance, air, if expanded bytension, as by suction in glass eggs, labors under a strong desire to recoveritself. But if heat be applied, it longs, on the contrary, to expand, anddesires a new sphere and passes into it readily as into a new form (so theyphrase it); and after a certain degree of expansion cares not to return, unlessinvited thereto by the application of cold, which is not a return, but arenewed transmutation. In the same way water, if made to contract by pressure,resists and wishes to become such as it was, that is, larger. But if thereintervene intense and continued cold, it changes itself spontaneously andgladly to the density of ice; and if the cold be continued long, withoutinterruption from heat, as in grottoes and caverns of some depth, it turns tocrystal or some similar material and never recovers its form.
Let the fifth motion be the motion ofcontinuity, by which I donot mean simple and primary continuity with some other body (for that is themotion of connection), but self-continuity in a given body. For it is mostcertain that all bodies dread a solution of continuity, some more, some less,but all to a certain extent. For while in hard bodies, as steel or glass, theresistance to discontinuity is exceedingly strong, even in liquids, where itseems to disappear or at all events to be very feeble, it is not altogetherabsent but is certainly there, though in its lowest degree of power, andbetrays itself in very many experiments as in bubbles, in the roundness ofdrops, in the thin threads of droppings from roofs, in the tenacity ofglutinous bodies, and the like. But most of all does this appetite displayitself if an attempt be made to extend the discontinuity to minute fragments.For in a mortar, after a certain amount of pulverization, the pestle producesno further effect; water does not penetrate into minute chinks; even airitself, notwithstanding its subtlety, does not suddenly pass through the poresof solid vessels but only after long insinuation.
Let the sixth motion be that which I call motionfor gain, ormotionof want. It is that by which bodies, when placed among quiteheterogeneous and hostile bodies, if they find an opportunity of escaping fromthese and uniting themselves to others more cognate (though these others besuch as have no close union with them) do nevertheless embrace the latter andchoose them as preferable; and seem to view this connection in the light of agam (whence the term), as though they stood in need of such bodies. Forinstance, gold or any other metal in the leaf does not like the surroundingair. If therefore it meet with any thick tangible body (as a finger, paper,what you will) it instantly sticks to it and is not easily torn away. So toopaper, cloth, and the like do not agree well with the air which is lodged intheir pores. They are therefore glad to imbibe water or other moisture andeject the air. A piece of sugar too, or a sponge, if dipped at one end in wateror wine, while the other stands out far above the surface, draws the water orthe wine gradually upward.
Hence we derive an excellent rule for opening and dissolving bodies. For(to say nothing of corrosives and strong waters which open for themselves away) if there can be found a body proportioned to and more in harmony andaffinity with a given solid body than that with which it is as of necessitymixed, the solid body immediately opens and relaxes itself, and shutting out orejecting the latter, receives the former into itself. Nor does this motion forgain act or exist only in immediate contact. For electricity (of which Gilbertand others after him have devised such stories) is nothing else than theappetite of a body when excited by gentle friction — an appetite whichdoes not well endure the air but prefers some other tangible body, if it befound near at hand.
Let the seventh motion be what I call the motionof the greatercongregation, by which bodies are carried toward masses of a like naturewith themselves — heavy bodies to the globe of the earth, light to thecompass of the heaven. This the Schoolmen have denoted by the name ofnatural motionfrom superficial considerations; either because there wasnothing conspicuous externally which could produce such motion (and thereforethey supposed it to be innate and inherent in things themselves), or perhapsbecause it never ceases. And no wonder; for the earth and heaven are everthere, whereas the causes and origins of most other motions are sometimesabsent, sometimes present. Accordingly this motion, because it ceases not butwhen others cease is felt instantly, they deem perpetual and proper, all othersadscititious. This motion, however, in point of fact is sufficiently weak anddull, being one which, except in bodies of considerable bulk, yields andsuccumbs to all other motions, as long as they are in operation. And thoughthis motion has so filled men's thoughts as to have put all others almost outof sight, yet it is but little that they know about it, being involved in manyerrors with regard to it.
Let the eighth motion be the motionof the lesser congregation,by which the homogeneous parts in a body separate themselves from theheterogeneous and combine together; by which also entire bodies from similarityof substance embrace and cherish each other, and sometimes are attracted andcollected together from a considerable distance; as when in milk, after it hasstood a while, the cream rises to the top, while in wine the dregs sink to thebottom. For this is not caused by the motion of heaviness and lightness only,whereby some parts rise up and some sink down, but much more by a desire of thehomogeneous parts to come together and unite in one.
Now this motion differs from the motion of want in two points. One isthat in the latter there is the stronger stimulus of a malignant and contrarynature, whereas in this motion (provided there be nothing to hinder or fetterit) the parts unite from friendship even in the absence of a foreign nature tostir up strife. The other point is that the union is here closer and, as itwere, with greater choice. In the former, if only the hostile body be avoided,bodies not closely related come together, whereas in the latter, substances aredrawn together by the tie of close relationship and, as it were, combine intoone. And this motion resides in all composite bodies and would readily showitself were it not bound and restrained by other appetites and necessities inthe bodies which interfere with the union in question.
Now the binding of this motion takes place generally in three ways: bythe torpor of bodies; by the check of a dominant body; and by external motions.Now, for the torpor of bodies, it is certain that there resides in tangiblesubstances a certain sluggishness, more or less, and an aversion from change ofplace; insomuch that, unless they be excited, they had rather remain as theyare than change for the better. Now this torpor is shaken off by the help ofthree things: either by heat, or by the eminent virtue of some cognate body, orby lively and powerful motion. And as for the help of heat, it is for thisreason that heat has been denned to be "that which separates Heterogeneous andcongregates Homogeneous parts"; a definition of the Peripatetics justly deridedby Gilbert, who says it is much the same as if a man were to be denned as thatwhich sows wheat and plants vines — for that it is, a definition simply byeffects, and those particular. But the definition has a worse fault, inasmuchas these effects, such as they are, arise not from a peculiar property of heat,but only indirectly (for cold does the same, as I shall afterwards show); beingcaused by the desire of homogeneous parts to unite, heat simply aiding to shakeoff the torpor which had previously bound the desire. As for the help derivedfrom the virtue of a cognate body, it is well seen in an armed magnet whichexcites in iron the virtue of detaining iron by similarity of substance, thetorpor of the iron being cast off by the virtue of the magnet. And as for helpderived from motion, it is shown in wooden arrows, having their points also ofwood, which penetrate more deeply into wood than if they were tipped withsteel, owing to the similarity of substance, the torpor of the wood beingshaken off by the rapid motion. Of these two experiments I have spoken also inthe Aphorism on Clandestine Instances.
That binding of the motion of the lesser congregation which is caused bythe restraint of a dominant body is seen in the resolution of blood and urineby cold. For as long as those bodies are filled with the active spirit which,as lord of the whole, orders and restrains the several parts of whatsoeversort, so long the homogeneous parts do not meet together on account of therestraint. But as soon as the spirit has evaporated, or been choked by cold,then the parts being freed from restraint meet together in accordance withtheir natural desire. And thus it happens that all bodies which contain aneager spirit (as salts and the like) remain as they are, and are not resolved,owing to the permanent and durable restraint of a dominant and commandingspirit.
That binding of the motion of lesser congregation which is caused byexternal motion is most conspicuous in the shaking of bodies to preventputrefaction. For all putrefaction depends on the assembling together ofhomogeneous parts, whence there gradually ensues the corruption of the oldform, as they call it, and the generation of a new. For putrefaction, whichpaves the way for the generation of a new form, is preceded by a dissolution ofthe old, which is itself a meeting together of homogeneous parts. That, indeed,if not impeded, is simple resolution. But if it be met by various obstaclesthere follow putrefactions, which are the rudiments of a new generation. But if(which is the present question) a frequent agitation be kept up by externalmotion, then indeed this motion of uniting (which is a delicate and tender one,and requires rest from things without) is disturbed and ceases, as we seehappen in numberless instances. For example, the daily stirring or flowing ofwater prevents it from putrefying; winds keep off pestilence in the air; cornturned and shaken in the granary remains pure; all things, in short, that areshaken outwardly are the slower to putrefy inwardly.
Lastly, I must not omit that meeting of the parts of bodies which is thechief cause of induration and desiccation. For when the spirit, or moistureturned to spirit, has escaped from some porous body (as wood, bone, parchment,and the like), then the grosser parts are with stronger effort drawn andcollected together; whence ensues induration or desiccation, which I take to beowing not so much to the motion of connection to prevent a vacuum as to thismotion of friendship and union.
As for the meeting of bodies from a distance, that is a rare occurrence,and yet it exists in more cases than are generally observed. We haveillustrations of it when bubble dissolves bubble; when medicines draw humors bysimilarity of substance; when the chord of one violin makes the chord ofanother sound a unison, and the like. I suspect also that this motion prevailsin the spirits of animals, though it be altogether unknown. At any rate itexists conspicuously in the magnet and magnetized iron. And now that we arespeaking of the motions of the magnet, they ought to be carefullydistinguished. For there are four virtues or operations in the magnet whichshould not be confounded but kept apart, although the wonder and admiration ofmen have mixed them up together. The first is, the attraction of magnet tomagnet, or of iron to magnet, or of magnetized iron to iron. The second is itspolarity, and at the same time its declination. The third, its power ofpenetrating through gold, glass, stone, everything. The fourth, its power ofcommunicating its virtue from stone to iron, and from iron to iron, withoutcommunication of substance. In this place, however, I am speaking only of thefirst of these virtues — that is, its attractive power. Remarkable also isthe motion of attraction between quicksilver and gold, insomuch that goldattracts quicksilver, though made up into ointments; and men who work amid thevapors of quicksilver usually hold a piece of gold in their mouths to collectthe exhalations which would otherwise penetrate into their skulls and bones; bywhich also the piece of gold is presently turned white. And so much for themotion of the lesser congregation.
Let the ninth motion be themagnetic, which, though it be of thesame genus with the motion of the lesser congregation, yet if it operates atgreat distances and on large masses, deserves a separate investigation,especially if it begin not with contact, as most, nor lead to contact, as allmotions of congregation do, but simply raises bodies or makes them swell, andnothing more. For if the moon raises the waters, or makes moist things swell;if the starry heaven attracts planets to their apogees; if the sun holds Venusand Mercury so that their elongations never exceed a certain distance; thesemotions seem to fall properly neither under the greater nor the lessercongregation, but to be of a sort of intermediate and imperfect congregation,and therefore ought to constitute a species by themselves.
Let the tenth motion be that offlight (a motion the exactopposite of that of the lesser congregation), by which bodies from antipathyflee from and put to flight hostile bodies, and separate themselves from themor refuse to mingle with them. For although in some cases this motion may seemto be an accident or a consequence of the motion of the lesser congregation,because the homogeneous parts cannot meet without dislodging and ejecting theheterogeneous, still it is a motion that should be classed by itself and formedinto a distinct species, because in many cases the appetite of flight is seento be more dominant than the appetite of union.
This motion is eminently conspicuous in the excretions of animals andnot less in objects odious to some of the senses, especially the smell and thetaste. For a fetid odor is so rejected by the sense of smell as to induce byconsent in the mouth of the stomach a motion of expulsion; a rough and bittertaste is so rejected by the palate or throat as to induce by consent a shakingof the head and a shudder. But this motion has place in other things also. Itis observed in certain forms of reaction; as in the middle region of the air,where the cold seems to be the effect of the rejection of the nature of coldfrom the confines of the heavenly bodies; as also the great heats and burningswhich are found in subterranean places appear to be rejections of the nature ofheat from the inner parts of the earth. For heat and cold, in small quantities,kill one another. But if they be in large masses, and as it were in regulararmies, the result of the conflict is that they displace and eject each otherin turn. It is also said that cinnamon and other perfumes retain their scentlonger when placed near sinks and foul-smelling places because they refuse tocome out and mingle with stenches. It is certain that quicksilver, which ofitself would reunite into an entire mass, is kept from doing so by spittle,hog's lard, turpentine, and the like, owing to the ill consent which its partshave with such bodies, from which, when spread around them, they draw back, sothat their desire to fly from these intervening bodies is more powerful thantheir desire of uniting with parts like themselves. And this is called themortification of quicksilver. The fact also that oil does not mix withwater is not simply owing to the difference of weight, but to the ill consentof these fluids, as may be seen from the fact that spirit of wine, thoughlighter than oil, yet mixes well enough with water. But most of all is themotion of flight conspicuous in niter and such like crude bodies, which abhorflame; as in gunpowder, quicksilver, and gold. But the flight of iron from onepole of the magnet is well observed by Gilbert to be not a flight strictlyspeaking, but a conformity and meeting in a more convenient situation.
Let the eleventh motion be that ofassimilation, or ofself-multiplication, or again of simplegeneration. By which Imean not the generation of integral bodies, as plants or animals, but of bodiesof uniform texture. That is to say, by this motion such bodies convert otherswhich are related, or at any rate well disposed to them, into their ownsubstance and nature. Thus flame over vapors and oily substances multipliesitself and generates new flame; air over water and watery substances multipliesitself and generates new air; spirit, vegetable and animal, over the finerparts as well of watery as of oily substance in its food, multiplies itself andgenerates new spirit; the solid parts of plants and animals, as the leaf,flower, flesh, bone, and the like, severally assimilate new substance to followand supply what is lost out of the juices of their food. For let no one adoptthe wild fancy of Paracelsus who (blinded I suppose by his distillations) willhave it that nutrition is caused only by separation, and that in bread and meatlie eye, nose, brain, liver; in the moisture of the ground, root, leaf, andflower. For as the artist out of the rude mass of stone or wood educes, byseparation and rejection of what is superfluous, leaf, flower, eye, nose, hand,foot, and the like, so, he maintains, does Archæus, the internal artist,educe out of food by separation and rejection the several members and parts ofour body. But to leave such trifles, it is most certain that the several parts,as well similar as organic, in vegetables and animals do first attract withsome degree of selection the juices of their food, which are alike or nearly sofor all, and then assimilate them and turn them into their own nature. Nor doesthis assimilation or simple generation take place only in animate bodies, butinanimate also participate therein, as has been stated of flame and air.Moreover, the non-vital spirit, which is contained in every tangible animatedsubstance, is constantly at work to digest the coarser parts and turn them intospirit, to be afterwards discharged; whence ensues diminution of weight anddesiccation, as I have stated elsewhere. Nor must we set apart fromassimilation that accretion which is commonly distinguished from alimentation;as when clay between stones concretes and turns into a stony substance, or thescaly substance on the teeth turns into a substance as hard as the teeththemselves, and so on. For I am of opinion that there resides in all bodies adesire for assimilation as well as for uniting with homogeneous substances; butthis virtue is bound, as is the other, though not by the same means. But thesemeans, as well as the way of escape from them, ought to be investigated withall diligence because they pertain to the rekindling of the vital power in oldage. Lastly, it seems worthy of observation that in the nine motions of which Ihave spoken1 bodies seem to desire only the preservation oftheir nature, but in this tenth the propagation of it.
Let the twelfth motion be that ofexcitation, a motion whichseems to belong to the genus of assimilation and which I sometimes call by thatname. For it is a motion diffusive, communicative, transitive, andmultiplicative, as is the other, and agreeing with it generally in effectthough differing in the mode of effecting and in the subject matter. For themotion of assimilation proceeds, as it were, with authority and command; itorders and forces the assimilated body to turn into the assimilating. But themotion of excitation proceeds, so to speak, with art and by insinuation, andstealthily, simply inviting and disposing the excited body to the nature of theexciting. Again, the motion of assimilation multiplies and transforms bodiesand substances. Thus more flame is produced, more air, more spirit, more flesh.But in the motion of excitation virtues only are multiplied and transferred;more heat being engendered, more magnetic power, more putrefying. This motionis particularly conspicuous in heat and cold. For heat does not diffuse itself,in heating a body, by communication of the original heat but simply by excitingthe parts of the body to that motion which is the form of heat, of which I havespoken in the First Vintage concerning the nature of heat. Consequently heat isexcited far more slowly and with far greater difficulty in stone or metal thanin air, owing to the unfitness and unreadiness of those bodies to receive themotion. So that it is probable that there may exist materials in the bowels ofthe earth which altogether refuse to be heated, because through their greatercondensation they are destitute of that spirit with which this motion ofexcitation generally begins. In like manner the magnet endues iron with a newdisposition of its parts and a conformable motion, but loses nothing of its ownvirtue. Similarly leaven, yeast, curd, and certain poisons excite and invite asuccessive and continued motion in dough, beer, cheese, or the human body, notso much by the force of the exciting as by the predisposition and easy yieldingof the excited body.
Let the thirteenth motion be the motion ofimpression, which alsois of the same genus with the motion of assimilation, and is of diffusivemotions the most subtle. I have thought fit, however, to make a distinctspecies of it, on account of a remarkable difference between it and the twoformer. For the simple motion of assimilation actually transforms the bodiesthemselves, so that you may take away the first mover, and there will be nodifference in what follows. For the first kindling into flame, or the firstturning into air, has no effect on the flame or air next generated. In likemanner, the motion of excitation continues, after the first mover is withdrawn,for a very considerable time: as in a heated body when the primary heat hasbeen removed; in magnetized iron when the magnet has been put away; in doughwhen the leaven has been taken out. But the motion of impression, thoughdiffusive and transitive, seems to depend forever on the prime mover. So thatif that be taken away or cease to act, it immediately fails and comes to anend, and therefore the effect must be produced in a moment, or at any rate in avery brief space of time. The motions therefore of assimilation and excitationI call motions of thegeneration of Jupiter, because the generationcontinues; but this, the motion of thegeneration of Saturn, because thebirth is immediately devoured and absorbed. It manifests itself in threethings: in rays of light, in the percussions of sounds, and in magnetism, asregards the communication of the influence. For if you take away light, colorsand its other images instantly disappear; if you take away the originalpercussion and the vibration of the body thence produced, the sound soon afterdies away. For though sounds are troubled as they pass through their medium bywinds, as if by waves, yet it must be carefully noted that the original sounddoes not last all the time the resonance goes on. For if you strike a bell, thesound seems to be continued for a good long time, whereby we might easily beled into the error of supposing that during the whole of the time the sound is,as it were, floating and hanging in the air, which is quite untrue. For theresonance is not the identical sound, but a renewal of it, as is shown byquieting or stopping the body struck. For if the bell be held tight so that itcannot move, the sound at once comes to an end and resounds no more — asin stringed instruments, if after the first percussion the string be touched,either with the finger, as in the harp, or with the quill, as in the spinet,the resonance immediately ceases. Again, when the magnet is removed, the ironimmediately drops. The moon indeed cannot be removed from the sea, nor theearth from the falling body, and therefore we can try no experiment in thesecases; but the principle is the same.
Let the fourteenth motion be the motion ofconfiguration orposition, by which bodies seem to desire not union or separation, butposition, collocation, and configuration with respect to others. This motion isa very abstruse one and has not been well investigated. In some cases, indeed,it seems to be without a cause, though not, I believe, really so. For if it beasked why the heavens revolve rather from east to west than from west to east,or why they turn on poles placed near the Bears rather than about Orion, or inany other part of heaven, such questions seem to border on insanity, sincethese phenomena ought rather to be received as results of observation, andmerely positive facts. But though there are no doubt in nature certain thingsultimate and without cause, this does not appear to me to be one of them, beingcaused in my opinion by a certain harmony and consent of the universe which hasnot yet fallen under observation. And if we admit the motion of the earth fromwest to east, the same questions remain. For it also moves on certain poles.And why, it might be asked, should these poles be placed where they are, ratherthan anywhere else? Again the polarity, direction, and declination of themagnet are referable to this motion. There are also found in bodies natural aswell as artificial, especially in solids, a certain collocation and position ofparts, and a kind of threads and fibers, which ought to be carefullyinvestigated since, until they are understood, these bodies cannot beconveniently managed or controlled. But those eddyings in fluids, by which whenpressed, before they can free themselves, they relieve each other that they mayall have a fair share of the pressure, belong more properly to the motion ofliberty.
Let the fifteenth motion be the motion oftransition, or motionaccording to the passages, by which the virtues of bodies are more orless impeded or promoted by their media, according to the nature of the bodyand of the acting virtues, and also of the medium. For one medium suits light,another sound, another heat and cold, another magnetic virtues, and so on.
Let the sixteenth motion be theroyal (as I call it) orpolitical motion, by which the predominant and commanding parts in anybody curb, tame, subdue, and regulate the other parts, and compel them tounite, separate, stand still, move, and range themselves, not in accordancewith their own desires, but as may conduce to the well-being of the commandingpart; so that there is a sort of government and polity exerted by the rulingover the subject parts. This motion is eminently conspicuous in the spirits ofanimals where, as long as it is in vigor, it tempers all the motions of theother parts. It is found however in other bodies in a lower degree; as I saidof blood and urine, which are not decomposed till the spirit which mixes andkeeps together their parts be discharged or quenched. Nor is this motionconfined to spirits, though in most bodies the spirits are masters owing totheir rapid and penetrating motion. But in bodies of greater density and notfilled with a lively and quickening spirit (such as there is in quicksilver andvitriol), the thicker parts are the masters, so that unless this yoke andrestraint be by some expedient shaken off, there is very little hope of any newtransformation of such bodies. But let no one suppose that I am forgetful ofthe point at issue, because while this series and distribution of motions tendsto nothing else but the better investigation of their predominancy by instancesof strife, I now make mention of predominancy among the motions themselves. Forin describing this royal motion I am not treating of the predominancy ofmotions or virtues, but of the predominancy of parts in bodies; such being thepredominancy which constitutes the peculiar species of motion in question.
Let the seventeenth motion be thespontaneous motion of rotation,by which bodies delighting in motion and favorably placed for it enjoy theirown nature, and follow themselves, not another body, and court (so to speak)their own embraces. For bodies seem either to move without limit, or to remainaltogether at rest, or to tend to a limit at which, according to their nature,they either revolve or rest. Those which are favorably placed, if they delightin motion, move in a circle, with a motion, that is, eternal and infinite.Those which are favorably placed, and abhor motion, remain at rest. Those whichare not favorably placed move in a right line (as the shortest path) to consortwith bodies of their own nature. But this motion of rotation admits of ninedifferences regarding 1. the center round which the bodies move; 2. the poleson which they move; 3. their circumference or orbit, according to theirdistance from the center; 4. their velocity, according to the greater or lessrapidity of their rotation; 5. the course of their motion, as from east towest, or from west to east; 6. their declination from a perfect circle byspiral lines more or less distant from their center; 7. their declination froma perfect circle by spiral lines more or less distant from their poles; 8. thegreater or lesser distance of these spirals from each other; 9. and lastly, thevariation of the poles themselves, if they be movable; which, however, hasnothing to do with rotation unless it be circular. This motion in common andlong received opinion is looked upon as the proper motion of heavenly bodies,though there is a grave dispute with regard to it among some both of theancients and of the moderns, who have attributed rotation to the earth. But ajuster question perhaps arises upon this (if it be not past question), namely,whether this motion (admitting that the earth stands still) is confined to theheavens, and does not rather descend and communicate itself to the air andwaters. The motion of rotation in missiles, as in darts, arrows, musket balls,and the like, I refer to the motion of liberty.
Let the eighteenth motion be the motion oftrepidation, to which,as understood by astronomers, I do not attach much credit. But in searchingcarefully everywhere for the appetites of natural bodies this motion comesbefore us and ought, it seems, to constitute a species by itself. It is amotion of what may be called perpetual captivity and occurs when bodies thathave not quite found their right place, and yet are not altogether uneasy, keepforever trembling and stirring themselves restlessly, neither content as theyare nor daring to advance further. Such a motion is found in the heart andpulses of animals, and must of necessity occur in all bodies which so exist ina mean state between conveniences and inconveniences that when disturbed theystrive to free themselves, and being again repulsed, are yet forever tryingagain.
Let the nineteenth and last motion be one which, though it hardlyanswers to the name, is yet indisputably a motion; and let us call it themotion ofrepose, or ofaversion to move. It is by this motionthat the earth stands still in its mass while its extremities are moving towardthe middle — not to an imaginary center, but to union. By this appetitealso all bodies of considerable density abhor motion. Indeed, the desire of notmoving is the only appetite they have; and though in countless ways they beenticed and challenged to motion, they yet, as far as they can, maintain theirproper nature. And if compelled to move, they nevertheless seem always intenton recovering their state of rest and moving no more. While thus engaged,indeed, they show themselves active and struggle for it with agility andswiftness enough, as weary and impatient of all delay. Of this appetite but apartial representation can be seen, since here with us, from the subduing andconcocting power of the heavenly bodies, all tangible substances are not onlynot condensed to their utmost, but are even mixed with some portion ofspirit.
Thus, then, have I set forth the species or simple elements of motions,appetites, and active virtues, which are in nature most general. And underthese heads no small portion of natural science is sketched out. I do not,however, mean to say that other species may not be added, or that the divisionsI have made may not be drawn more accurately according to the true veins ofnature, or reduced to a smaller number. Observe, nevertheless, that I am nothere speaking of any abstract divisions, as if one were to say that bodiesdesire either the exaltation or the propagation or the fruition of theirnature; or again, that the motions of things tend to the preservation and goodeither of the universe, as resistance and connection; or of great wholes, asthe motions of the greater congregation, rotation, and aversion to move; or ofspecial forms, as the rest. For though these assertions be true, yet unlessthey be defined by true lines in matter and the fabric of nature, they arespeculative and of little use. Meanwhile, these will suffice and be of goodservice in weighing the predominancies of virtues and finding out instances ofstrife, which is our present object
For of the motions I have set forth some are quite invincible; some arestronger than others, fettering, curbing, arranging them; some carry fartherthan others; some outstrip others in speed; some cherish, strengthen, enlarge,and accelerate others.
The motion of resistance is altogether adamantine and invincible.Whether the motion of connection be so, I am still undecided. For I am notprepared to say for certain whether or no there be a vacuum, either collectedin one place or interspersed in the pores of bodies. But of one thing I amsatisfied, that the reason for which a vacuum was introduced by Leucippus andDemocritus (namely, that without it the same bodies could not embrace and fillsometimes larger and sometimes smaller spaces) is a false one. For matter isclearly capable of folding and unfolding itself in space, within certainlimits, without the interposition of a vacuum; nor is there in air two thousandtimes as much of vacuity as there is in gold. which on their hypothesis thereshould be. Of this I am sufficiently convinced by the potency of the virtues ofpneumatical bodies (which otherwise would be floating in empty space like finedust) and by many other proofs. As for the other motions, they rule and areruled in turn, in proportion to their vigor, quantity, velocity, force ofprojection, and also to the helps and hindrances they meet with.
For instance, there are some armed magnets that hold and suspend iron ofsixty times their own weight, so far does the motion of the lesser prevail overthe motion of the greater congregation; but if the weight be increased, it isovercome. A lever of given strength will raise a given weight, so far does themotion of liberty prevail over that of the greater congregation; but if theweight be increased, it is overcome. Leather stretches to a certain extentwithout breaking, so far does the motion of continuity prevail over the motionof tension; but if the tension be increased, the leather breaks and the motionof continuity is overcome. Water runs out at a crack of a certain size, so fardoes the motion of the greater congregation prevail over the motion ofcontinuity; but if the crack be smaller, it gives way, and the motion ofcontinuity prevails. If you charge a gun with ball and sulphur only, and applythe match, the ball is not discharged, the motion of the greater congregationovercoming in this case the motion of matter. But if you charge with gunpowder,the motion of matter in the sulphur prevails, being aided by the motions ofmatter and of flight in the niter. And so of other cases. Instances of strife,therefore, which point out the predominancies of virtues together with themanner and proportion in which they predominate or give place, should be soughtand collected from all quarters with keen and careful diligence.
Nor should we examine less carefully the modes in which these motionsgive way. That is to say, whether they stop altogether or whether they continueto resist but are overpowered. For in bodies here with us there is no realrest, either in wholes or in parts, but only in appearance. And this apparentrest is caused either by equilibrium, or by absolute predominancy of motions:by equilibrium, as in scales, which stand still if the weights be equal; bypredominancy, as in watering pots with holes in them, where the water rests andis kept from falling out by the predominancy of the motion of connection. Butit should be observed, as I have said, how far these yielding motions carrytheir resistance. For if a man be pinned to the ground, tied hand and foot, orotherwise held fast, and yet struggle to rise with all his might, theresistance is not the less though it be unsuccessful. But the real state of thecase (I mean whether by predominancy the yielding motion is, so to speak,annihilated, or rather whether a resistance is continued, though we cannot seeit) will perhaps, though latent in the conflicts of motions, be apparent intheir concurrence. For example, let trial be made in shooting. See how far agun will carry a ball straight, or as they say point-blank, and then trywhether, if it be fired upward, the stroke will be feebler than when it isfired downward, where the motion of gravity concurs with the blow.
Lastly, such canons of predominance as we meet with should be collected;for instance, that the more common the good sought, the stronger the motion.Thus the motion of connection, which regards communion with the universe, isstronger than the motion of gravity, which regards only communion with densebodies. Again, that appetites which aim at a private good seldom prevailagainst appetites which aim at a more public good, except in small quantities— rules which I wish held good in politics.
1 [which relate to concrete bodies rather than to matter ingeneral —? Ed.]
XLIX
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the twenty-fifth placeintimating instances, those, I mean, which intimate or point out what isuseful to man. For mere power and mere knowledge exalt human nature, but do notbless it. We must therefore gather from the whole store of things such as makemost for the uses of life. But a more proper place for speaking of these willbe when I come to treat of applications to practice. Besides, in the workitself of interpretation in each particular subject, I always assign a place tothehuman chart, orchart of things to be wished for. For to formjudicious wishes is as much a part of knowledge as to ask judiciousquestions.
L
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the twenty-sixth placePolychrest Instances, orInstances of General Use. They are thosewhich relate to a variety of cases and occur frequently and therefore save nosmall amount of labor and fresh demonstration. Of the instruments andcontrivances themselves the proper place for speaking will be when I come tospeak of applications to practice and modes of experimenting. Moreover, thosewhich have been already discovered and come into use will be described in theparticular histories of the several arts. At present I will subjoin a fewgeneral remarks on them as examples merely of this general use.
Besides the simple bringing together and putting asunder of them, manoperates upon natural bodies chiefly in seven ways, viz., either by exclusionof whatever impedes and disturbs; or by compressions, extensions, agitations,and the like; or by heat and cold; or by continuance in a suitable place; or bythe checking and regulation of motion; or by special sympathies; or by theseasonable and proper alternation, series, and succession of all these ways, orat any rate of some of them.
With regard to the first, the common air, which is everywhere about usand pressing in, and the rays of the heavenly bodies, cause much disturbance.Whatever therefore serves to exclude them may justly be reckoned among thingsof general use. To this head belong the material and thickness of the vesselsin which the bodies are placed on which we are going to operate; also theperfect stopping up of vessels by consolidation andlutumsapientiæ, as the chemists call it. Also the closing in of substancesby liquids poured on the outside is a thing of very great use, as when theypour oil on wine or juices of herbs, which spreading over the surface like alid preserves them excellently from the injury of the air. Nor are powders badthings; for though they contain air mixed up with them, they yet repel theforce of the body of air round about, as we see in the preservation of grapesand other fruits in sand and flour. It is good too to spread bodies over withwax, honey, pitch, and like tenacious substances, for the more perfectenclosure of them and to keep off the air and heavenly bodies. I have sometimestried the effect of laying up a vessel or some other body in quicksilver, whichof all substances that can be poured round another is far the densest. Caverns,again, and subterraneous pits are of great use in keeping off the heat of thesun and that open air which preys upon bodies, and such are used in the northof Germany as granaries. The sinking of bodies in water has likewise the sameeffect, as I remember to have heard of bottles of wine being let down into adeep well to cool, but through accident or neglect being left there for manyyears, and then taken out; and that the wine not only was free from sourness orflatness, but tasted much finer, owing, it would seem, to a more exquisitecommixture of its parts. And if the case require that bodies be let down to thebottom of the water, as in a river or the sea, without either touching thewater or being enclosed in stopped vessels, but surrounded by air alone, thereis good use in the vessel which has been sometimes employed for working underwater on sunk ships whereby divers are enabled to remain a long while below,and take breath from time to time. This machine was a hollow bell made of metalwhich, being let down parallel to the surface of the water, carried with it tothe bottom all the air it contained. It stood on three feet (like a tripod) theheight of which was somewhat less than that of a man, so that the diver, whenhis breath failed, could put his head into the hollow of the bell, take breath,and then go on with his work. I have heard also of a sort of machine or boatcapable of carrying men under water for some distance. Be that as it may, undersuch a vessel as I have described bodies of any sort can easily be suspended,and it is on that account that I have mentioned this experiment.
There is also another advantage in the careful and complete closing ofbodies. For not only does it keep the outer air from getting in (of which Ihave already spoken), but also it keeps the spirit of the body, on which theoperation is going on inside, from getting out. For it is necessary for one whooperates on natural bodies to be certain of his total quantities, that is, thatnothing evaporates or flows away. For then and then only are profoundalterations made in bodies when, while nature prevents annihilation, artprevents also the loss or escape of any part. On this subject there hasprevailed a false opinion which, if true, would make us well nigh despair ofpreserving the perfect quantity without diminution, namely, that the spirits ofbodies, and air when rarefied by a high degree of heat, cannot be contained inclosed vessels but escape through their more delicate pores. To this opinionmen have been led by common experiment of an inverted cup placed on water witha candle in it or a piece of paper lighted; the consequence of which is thatthe water is drawn up; and also by the similar experiment of cupping glasseswhich when heated over flame draw up the flesh. For in each of theseexperiments they imagine that the rarefied air escapes, and that its quantitybeing thereby diminished, the water or flesh comes up into its place by themotion of connection. But this is altogether a mistake. For the air is notdiminished in quantity, but contracted in space; nor does the motion of therising of the water commence till the flame is extinguished or the air cooled.And therefore physicians, to make their cupping glasses draw better, lay onthem cold sponges dipped in water. And therefore there is no reason why menshould be much afraid of the easy escape of air or spirits. For though it betrue that the most solid bodies have pores, still air or spirit do not easilysubmit to such extremely fine comminution, just as water refuses to run out atvery small chinks.
With regard to the second of the seven modes of operating abovementioned, it is particularly to be observed that compression and such violentmeans have indeed, with respect to local motion and the like, a most powerfuleffect, as in machines and projectiles, an effect which even causes thedestruction of organic bodies and of such virtues as consist altogether inmotion. For all life, nay all flame and ignition, is destroyed by compression,just as every machine is spoiled or deranged by the same. It causes thedestruction likewise of virtues which consist in the position and coarserdissimilarity of parts. This is the case with colors, for the whole flower hasnot the same color as when it is bruised, nor the whole piece of amber as thesame piece pulverized. So also it is with tastes. For there is not the sametaste in an unripe pear as there is in a squeezed and softened one, for itmanifestly contracts sweetness by the process. But for the more remarkabletransformations and alterations of bodies of uniform structure such violentmeans are of little avail, since bodies do not acquire thereby a newconsistency that is constant and quiescent, but one that is transitory and everstriving to recover and liberate itself. It would not be amiss, however, tomake some careful experiments for the purpose of ascertaining whether thecondensation or the rarefaction of a body of nearly uniform structure (as air,water, oil, and the like), being induced by violence, can be made to beconstant and fixed, and to become a kind of nature. This should first be triedby simple continuance, and then by means of helps and consents. And the trialmight easily have been made (if it had but occurred to me) when I wascondensing water, as mentioned above, by hammer and press, till it burst forthfrom its enclosure. For I should have left the flattened sphere to itself for afew days, and after that drawn off the water, that so I might have seen whetherit would immediately occupy the same dimensions which it had beforecondensation. If it had not done so, either immediately or at any rate soonafter, we might have pronounced the condensation a constant one; if it had, itwould have appeared that a restoration had taken place and that the compressionwas transitory. Something of a similar kind I might have tried also with theexpansion of air in the glass eggs. For after powerful suction I might havestopped them suddenly and tightly; I might have left the eggs so stopped forsome days and then tried whether on opening the hole the air would be drawn upwith a hissing noise, or whether on plunging them into water, as much waterwould be drawn up as there would have been at first without the delay. For itis probable — at least it is worth trying — that this might havebeen, and may be, the case; since in bodies of structure not quite so uniformthe lapse of time does produce such effects. For a stick bent for some time bycompression does not recoil, and this must not be imputed to any loss ofquantity in the wood through the lapse of time, since the same will be the casewith a plate of steel if the time be increased, and steel does not evaporate.But if the experiment succeed not with mere continuance, the business must notbe abandoned, but other aids must be employed. For it is no small gain if bythe application of violence we can communicate to bodies fixed and permanentnatures. For thus air can be turned into water by condensation, and many othereffects of the kind can be produced, man being more the master of violentmotions than of the rest.
The third of the seven modes above-mentioned relates to that which,whether in nature or in art, is the great instrument of operation, viz., heatand cold. And herein man's power is clearly lame on one side. For we have theheat of fire which is infinitely more potent and intense than the heat of thesun as it reaches us, or the warmth of animals. But we have no cold save suchas is to be got in wintertime, or in caverns, or by application of snow andice, which is about as much perhaps in comparison as the heat of the sun atnoon in the torrid zone, increased by the reflections of mountains and walls.For such heat as well as such cold can be endured by animals for a short time.But they are nothing to be compared to the heat of a burning furnace, or withany cold corresponding to it in intensity. Thus all things with us tend torarefaction, and desiccation, and consumption; nothing hardly to condensationand inteneration except by mixtures and methods that may be called spurious.Instances of cold therefore should be collected with all diligence. And such itseems may be found by exposing bodies on steeples in sharp frosts; by layingthem in subterranean caverns; by surrounding them with snow and ice in deeppits dug for the purpose; by letting them down into wells; by burying them inquicksilver and metals; by plunging them into waters which petrify wood; byburying them in the earth, as the Chinese are said to do in the making ofporcelain, where masses made for the purpose are left, we are told, undergroundfor forty or fifty years, and transmitted to heirs, as a kind of artificialminerals; and by similar processes. And so too all natural condensations causedby cold should be investigated, in order that, their causes being known, theymay be imitated by art. Such we see in the sweating of marble and stones; inthe dews condensed on the inside of windowpanes toward morning after a night'sfrost; in the formation and gathering of vapors into water under the earth,from which springs often bubble up. Everything of this kind should becollected.
Besides things which are cold to the touch, there are found othershaving the power of cold, which also condense, but which seem to act on thebodies of animals only, and hardly on others. Of this sort we have manyinstances in medicines and plasters, some of which condense the flesh andtangible parts, as astringent and inspissatory medicaments; while otherscondense the spirits, as is most observable in soporifics. There are two waysin which spirits are condensed by medicaments soporific, or provocative ofsleep: one by quieting their motion, the other by putting them to flight. Thusviolets, dried rose leaves, lettuce, and like benedict or benignantmedicaments, by their kindly and gently cooling fumes invite the spirits tounite and quiet their eager and restless motion. Rose water, too, applied tothe nose in a fainting fit, causes the resolved and too relaxed spirits torecover themselves and, as it were, cherishes them. But opiates and kindredmedicaments put the spirits utterly to flight by their malignant and hostilenature. And therefore if they be applied to an external part, the spiritsimmediately flee away from that part and do not readily flow into it again; iftaken internally, their fumes, ascending to the head, disperse in alldirections the spirits contained in the ventricles of the brain; and thesespirits thus withdrawing themselves, and unable to escape into any other part,are by consequence brought together and condensed, and sometimes are utterlychoked and extinguished; though on the other hand these same opiates taken inmoderation do by a secondary accident (namely, the condensation which succeedsthe coming together) comfort the spirits and render them more robust, and checktheir useless and inflammatory motions; whereby they contribute no little tothe cure of diseases and prolongation of life.
Nor should we omit the means of preparing bodies to receive cold. Amongothers I may mention that water slightly warm is more easily frozen than quitecold.
Besides, since nature supplies cold as sparingly, we must do as theapothecaries do who, when they cannot get a simple, take its succedaneum orquid pro quo, as they call it — such as aloes for balsam, cassiafor cinnamon. In like manner we should look round carefully to see if there beanything that will do instead of cold, that is to say, any means by whichcondensations can be effected in bodies otherwise than by cold, the properoffice of which is to effect them. Such condensations, as far as yet appears,would seem to be limited to four. The first of these is caused by simplecompression, which can do but little for permanent density, since bodiesrecoil, but which perhaps may be of use as an auxiliary. The second is causedby the contraction of the coarser parts in a body after the escape of thefiner, such as takes place in indurations by fire, in the repeated quenchingsof metals, and like processes. The third is caused by the coming together ofthose homogeneous parts in a body which are the most solid, and whichpreviously had been dispersed and mixed with the less solid; as in therestoration of sublimated mercury, which occupies a far greater space in powderthan as simple mercury, and similarly in all purging of metals from theirdross. The fourth is brought about through sympathy, by applying substanceswhich from some occult power condense. These sympathies or consents at presentmanifest themselves but rarely, which is no wonder, since before we succeed indiscovering forms and configurations we cannot hope for much from an inquiryinto sympathies. With regard to the bodies of animals, indeed, there is nodoubt that there are many medicines, whether taken internally or externally,which condense as it were by consent, as I have stated a little above. But inthe case of inanimate substances such operation is rare. There has indeed beenspread abroad, as well in books as in common rumor, the story of a tree in oneof the Tercera or Canary Isles (I do not well remember which) which isconstantly dripping, so as to some extent to supply the inhabitants with water.And Paracelsus says that the herb calledRos Solis is at noon and undera burning sun filled with dew, while all the other herbs round it are dry. Butboth of these stories I look upon as fabulous. If they were true, suchinstances would be of most signal use and most worthy of examination. Nor do Iconceive that those honeydews, like manna, which are found on the leaves of theoak in the month of May, are formed and condensed by any peculiar property inthe leaf of the oak, but while they fall equally on all leaves, they areretained on those of the oak as being well united and not spongy as most of theothers are.
As regards heat, man indeed has abundant store and command thereof, butobservation and investigation are wanting in some particulars, and those themost necessary, let the alchemists say what they will. For the effects ofintense heat are sought for and brought into view, but those of a gentler heat,which fall in most with the ways of nature, are not explored and therefore areunknown. And therefore we see that by the heats generally used the spirits ofbodies are greatly exalted, as in strong waters and other chemical oils; thatthe tangible parts are hardened and, the volatile being discharged, sometimesfixed; that the homogeneous parts are separated, while the heterogeneous are ina coarse way incorporated and mixed up together; above all, that the juncturesof composite bodies and their more subtle configurations are broken up andconfounded. Whereas the operations of a gentler heat ought to have been triedand explored, whereby more subtle mixtures and regular configurations might begenerated and educed, after the model of nature and in imitation of the worksof the sun — as I have shadowed forth in the Aphorism on Instances ofAlliance. For the operations of nature are performed by far smaller portions ata time, and by arrangements far more exquisite and varied than the operationsof fire, as we use it now. And it is then that we shall see a real increase inthe power of man when by artificial heats and other agencies the works ofnature can be represented in form, perfected in virtue, varied in quantity,and, I may add, accelerated in time. For the rust of iron is slow in forming,but the turning intoCrocus Martis is immediate; and it is the same withverdigris and ceruse; crystal is produced by a long process, while glass isblown at once; stones take a long time to grow, while bricks are quickly baked.Meanwhile (to come to our present business), heats of every kind, with theireffects, should be diligently collected from all quarters and investigated— the heat of heavenly bodies by their rays direct, reflected, refracted,and united in burning glasses and mirrors; the heat of lightning, of flame, ofcoal fire; of fire from different materials; of fire close and open, straitenedand in full flow, modified in fine by the different structures of furnaces; offire excited by blowing; of fire quiescent and not excited; of fire removed toa greater or less distance; of fire passing through various media; moist heats,as of a vessel floating in hot water, of dung, of external and internal animalwarmth, of confined hay; dry heats, as of ashes, lime, warm sand; in short,heats of all kinds with their degrees.
But above all we must try to investigate and discover the effects andoperations of heat when applied and withdrawn gradually, orderly, andperiodically, at due distances and for due times. For such orderly inequalityis in truth the daughter of the heavens and mother of generation; nor isanything great to be expected from a heat either vehement or precipitate orthat comes by fits and starts. In vegetables this is most manifest; and also inthe wombs of animals there is a great inequality of heat, from the motion,sleep, food, and passions of the female in gestation. Lastly, in the wombs ofthe earth itself, those I mean in which metals and fossils are formed, the sameinequality has place and force. Which makes the unskillfulness of somealchemists of the reformed school all the more remarkable — who haveconceived that by the equable warmth of lamps and the like, burning uniformly,they can attain their end. And so much for the operations and effects of heat.To examine them thoroughly would be premature, till the forms of things and theconfigurations of bodies have been further investigated and brought to light.For it will then be time to seek, apply, and adapt our instruments when we areclear as to the pattern.
The fourth mode of operating is by continuance, which is as it were thesteward and almoner of nature. Continuance I call it when a body is left toitself for a considerable time, being meanwhile defended from all externalforce. For then only do the internal motions exhibit and perfect themselveswhen the extraneous and adventitious are stopped. Now the works of time are farsubtler than those of fire. For wine cannot be so clarified by fire as it is bytime; nor are the ashes produced by fire so fine as the dust into whichsubstances are resolved and wasted by ages. So too the sudden incorporationsand mixtures precipitated by fire are far inferior to those which are broughtabout by time. And the dissimilar and varied configurations which bodies bycontinuance put on, such as putrefactions, are destroyed by fire or any violentheat. Meanwhile it would not be out of place to observe that the motions ofbodies when quite shut up have in them something of violence. For suchimprisonment impedes the spontaneous motions of the body. And thereforecontinuance in an open vessel is best for separations; in a vessel quite closedfor commixtures; in a vessel partly closed, but with the air entering, forputrefactions. But, indeed, instances showing the effects and operations ofcontinuance should be carefully collected from all quarters.
The regulation of motion (which is the fifth mode of operating) is of nolittle service. I call it regulation of motion when one body meeting anotherimpedes, repels, admits or directs its spontaneous motion. It consists for themost part in the shape and position of vessels. Thus the upright cone inalembics helps the condensation of vapors; the inverted cone in receivers helpsthe draining off of the dregs of sugar. Sometimes a winding form is required,and one that narrows and widens in turn, and the like. For all percolationdepends on this, that the meeting body opens the way to one portion of the bodymet and shuts it to another. Nor is the business of percolation or otherregulation of motion always performed from without. It may also be done by abody within a body, as when stones are dropped into water to collect the earthyparts; or when syrups are clarified with the whites of eggs that the coarserparts may adhere thereto, after which they may be removed. It is also to thisregulation of motion that Telesius has rashly and ignorantly enough attributedthe shapes of animals, which he says are owing to the channels and folds in thewomb. But he should have been able to show the like formation in the shells ofeggs, in which there are no wrinkles or inequalities. It is true, however, thatthe regulation of motion gives the shapes in molding and casting.
Operations by consents or aversions (which is the sixth mode) often liedeeply hid. For what are called occult and specific properties, or sympathiesand antipathies, are in great part corruptions of philosophy. Nor can we havemuch hope of discovering the consents of things before the discovery of formsand simple configurations. For consent is nothing else than the adaptation offorms and configurations to each other.
The broader and more general consents of things are not, however, quiteso obscure. I will therefore begin with them. Their first and chief diversityis this, that some bodies differ widely as to density and rarity but agree inconfigurations, while others agree as to density and rarity but differ inconfigurations. For it has not been ill observed by the chemists in their triadof first principles that sulphur and mercury run through the whole universe.(For what they add about salt is absurd, and introduced merely to take inbodies earthy, dry, and fixed.) But certainly in these two one of the mostgeneral consents in nature does seem to be observable. For there is consentbetween sulphur, oil, and greasy exhalation, flame, and perhaps the body of astar. So is there between mercury, water and watery vapors, air, and perhapsthe pure and intersidereal ether. Yet these two quaternions or great tribes ofthings (each within its own limits) differ immensely in quantity of matter anddensity, but agree very well in configuration; as appears in numerous cases. Onthe other hand metals agree well together in quantity and density, especiallyas compared with vegetables, etc., but differ very widely in configuration;while in like manner vegetables and animals vary almost infinitely in theirconfigurations, but in quantity of matter or density their variation isconfined to narrow limits.
The next most general consent is that between primary bodies and theirsupports, that is, their menstrua and foods. We must therefore inquire, underwhat climates, in what earth, and at what depth, the several metals aregenerated; and so of gems, whether produced on rocks or in mines; also in whatsoil the several trees and shrubs and herbs thrive best and take, so to speak,most delight; moreover what manurings, whether by dung of any sort, or bychalk, sea sand, ashes, etc., do the most good; and which of them are mostsuitable and effective according to the varieties of soil. Again, the graftingand inoculating of trees and plants, and the principle of it, that is to say,what plants prosper best on what stocks, depends much on sympathy. Under thishead it would be an agreeable experiment, which I have heard has been latelytried, of engrafting forest trees (a practice hitherto confined to fruittrees), whereby the leaves and fruit are greatly enlarged and the trees mademore shady. In like manner the different foods of animals should be noted undergeneral heads, and with their negatives. For carnivorous animals cannot live onherbs, whence the order of Feuillans (though the will in man has more powerover the body than in other animals) has after trial (they say) well nighdisappeared, the thing not being endurable by human nature. Also the differentmaterials of putrefaction, whence animalculae are generated, should beobserved.
The consents of primary bodies with their subordinates (for such thosemay be considered which I have noted) are sufficiently obvious. To these may beadded the consents of the senses with their objects. For these consents, sincethey are most manifest and have been well observed and keenly sifted, maypossibly shed great light on other consents also which are latent.
But the inner consents and aversions, or friendships and enmities, ofbodies (for I am almost weary of the words sympathy and antipathy on account ofthe superstitions and vanities associated with them) are either falselyascribed, or mixed with fables, or from want of observation very rarely metwith. For if it be said that there is enmity between the vine and colewort,because when planted near each other they do not thrive, the reason is obvious— that both of these plants are succulent and exhaust the ground, and thusone robs the other. If it be said that there is consent and friendship betweencorn and the corn cockle or the wild poppy, because these herbs hardly come upexcept in ploughed fields, it should rather be said that there is enmitybetween them, because the poppy and corn cockle are emitted and generated froma juice of the earth which the corn has left and rejected; so that sowing theground with corn prepares it for their growth. And of such false ascriptionsthere is a great number. As for fables, they should be utterly exterminated.There remains indeed a scanty store of consents which have been approved bysure experiment, such as those of the magnet and iron, of gold and quicksilver,and the like. And in chemical experiments on metals there are found also someothers worthy of observation. But they are found in greatest abundance (if onemay speak of abundance in such a scarcity) in certain medicines which by theiroccult (as they are called) and specific properties have relation either tolimbs, or humors, or diseases, or sometimes to individual natures. Nor shouldwe omit the consents between the motions and changes of the moon and theaffections of bodies below, such as may be gathered and admitted, after strictand honest scrutiny, from experiments in agriculture, navigation, medicine, andother sciences. But the rarer all the instances of more secret consents are,the greater the diligence with which they should be sought after, by means offaithful and honest traditions and narrations; provided this be done withoutany levity or credulity, but with an anxious and (so to speak) a doubtingfaith. There remains a consent of bodies, inartificial perhaps in mode ofoperation, but in use a polychrest, which should in no wise be omitted, butexamined into with careful attention. I mean the proneness or reluctance ofbodies to draw together or unite by composition or simple apposition. For somebodies are mixed together and incorporated easily, but others with difficultyand reluctance. Thus powders mix best with water, ashes and lime with oils, andso on. Nor should we merely collect instances of the propensity or aversion ofbodies for mixture, but also of the collocation of their parts, of theirdistribution and digestion when they are mixed, and finally of theirpredominancy after the mixture is completed.
There remains the seventh and last of the seven modes of operation,namely, the means of operating by the alternation of the former six. But itwould not be seasonable to bring forward examples of this till our search hasbeen carried somewhat more deeply into the others singly. Now a series or chainof such alternations, adapted to particular effects, is a thing at once mostdifficult to discover and most effective to work with. But men are utterlyimpatient both of the inquiry and the practice, though it is the very thread ofthe labyrinth as regards works of any magnitude. Let this suffice to exemplifythe polychrest instances.
LI
Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the twenty-seventh and lastplaceInstances of Magic, by which I mean those wherein the material orefficient cause is scanty or small as compared with the work and effectproduced. So that even where they are common they seem like miracles; some atfirst sight, others even after attentive consideration. These, indeed, natureof herself supplies sparingly, but what she may do when her folds have beenshaken out, and after the discovery of forms and processes and configurations,time will show. But these magical effects (according to my present conjecture)are brought about in three ways: either by self-multiplication, as in fire, andin poisons called specific, and also in motions which are increased in power bypassing from wheel to wheel; or by excitation or invitation in another body, asin the magnet, which excites numberless needles without losing any of itsvirtue, or in yeast and the like; or by anticipation of motion, as in the casealready mentioned of gunpowder and cannons and mines. Of which ways the twoformer require a knowledge of consents, the third a knowledge of themeasurement of motions. Whether there be any mode of changing bodiesperminima (as they call it) and of transposing the subtler configurations ofmatter (a thing required in every sort of transformation of bodies) so that artmay be enabled to do in a short time that which nature accomplishes by manywindings, is a point on which I have at present no sure indications. And as inmatters solid and true I aspire to the ultimate and supreme, so do I foreverhate all things vain and tumid, and do my best to discard them.
LII
So much then for the dignities or prerogatives of instances. It must beremembered, however, that in this Organon of mine I am handling logic, notphilosophy. But since my logic aims to teach and instruct the understanding,not that it may with the slender tendrils of the mind snatch at and lay hold ofabstract notions (as the common logic does), but that it may in very truthdissect nature, and discover the virtues and actions of bodies, with their lawsas determined in matter; so that this science flows not merely from the natureof the mind, but also from the nature of things — no wonder that it iseverywhere sprinkled and illustrated with speculations and experiments innature, as examples of the art I teach. It appears then from what has been saidthat there are twenty-seven prerogative instances, namely, solitary instances;migratory instances; striking instances; clandestine instances; constitutiveinstances; conformable instances; singular instances; deviating instances;bordering instances; instances of power; instances of companionship and ofenmity; subjunctive instances; instances of alliance; instances of thefingerpost; instances of divorce; instances of the door; summoning instances;instances of the road; instances supplementary; dissecting instances; instancesof the rod; instances of the course; doses of nature; instances of strife;intimating instances; polychrest instances; magical instances. Now the use ofthese instances, wherein they excel common instances, is found either in theinformative part or in the operative, or in both. As regards the informative,they assist either the senses or the understanding: the senses, as the fiveinstances of the lamp; the understanding, either by hastening the exclusion ofthe form, as solitary instances; or by narrowing and indicating more nearly theaffirmative of the form, as instances migratory, striking, of companionship,and subjunctive; or by exalting the understanding and leading it to genera andcommon natures, either immediately, as instances clandestine, singular, and ofalliance, or in the next degree, as constitutive, or in the lowest, asconformable; or by setting the understanding right when led astray by habit, asdeviating instances; or by leading it to the great form or fabric of theuniverse, as bordering instances; or by guarding it against false forms andcauses, as instances of the fingerpost and of divorce. In the operative partthey either point out, or measure, or facilitate practice. They point it out byshowing with what we should begin, that we may not go again over old ground, asinstances of power; or to what we should aspire if means be given, asintimating instances. The four mathematical instances measure practice:polychrest and magical instances facilitate it.
Again, out of these twenty-seven instances there are some of which wemust make a collection at once, as I said above, without waiting for theparticular investigation of natures. Of this sort are instances conformable,singular, deviating, bordering, of power, of the dose, intimating, polychrest,and magical. For these either help and set right the understanding and senses,or furnish practice with her tools in a general way. The rest need not beinquired into till we come to make Tables of Presentation for the work of theinterpreter concerning some particular nature. For the instances marked andendowed with these prerogatives are as a soul amid the common instances ofpresentation and, as I said at first, a few of them do instead of many; andtherefore in the formation of the Tables they must be investigated with allzeal and set down therein. It was necessary to handle them beforehand because Ishall have to speak of them in what follows. But now I must proceed to thesupports and rectifications of induction, and then to concretes, and LatentProcesses, and Latent Configurations, and the rest, as set forth in order inthe twenty-first Aphorism; that at length (like an honest and faithfulguardian) I may hand over to men their fortunes, now their understanding isemancipated and come as it were of age; whence there cannot but follow animprovement in man's estate and an enlargement of his power over nature. Forman by the fall fell at the same time from his state of innocency and from hisdominion over creation. Both of these losses however can even in this life bein some part repaired; the former by religion and faith, the latter by arts andsciences. For creation was not by the curse made altogether and forever arebel, but in virtue of that charter "In the sweat of thy face shall thou eatbread," it is now by various labors (not certainly by disputations or idlemagical ceremonies, but by various labors) at length and in some measuresubdued to the supplying of man with bread, that is, to the uses of humanlife.
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