And although the Prince be not bound to render any accompt to the Law, which in person administreth it selfe 10: Yet every subordinate Judge must render an accompt to the King by his lawes how hee hath administred Justice in his place where he is set. But if he hath power to rule by private direction, for which there is no law, how can he be questioned by a law, if in his private censure he offendeth. Therefore it seemeth that in giving such authority the King ordaineth not subordinate Magistrates, but absolute Kings; And what doth the King leave to himselfe, who giveth so much to others as he hath himself? neither is there a greater bond to tie the subject to his Prince in particular then when he shal have recourse unto him in his person or in his power for releif of the wrongs which from private men be offered, or for reformation of the oppressions which any subordinate Magistrate shall impose upon the people: there can be no offence in the Judge, who hath power to execute according to his discretion, when the discretion of any Judge shall be thought fit to be unlimited 11; And therefore there can be therein no reformation, whereby the King in this useth no prerogative to gaine his Subjects right. Then the subject is bound to suffer helplesse wrong, and the discontent of the people is cast upon the King, the laws being neglected, which with their equitie in all other Causes and Judgements, saving this, interpose themselves and yeeld remedy.

And to conclude, Custome cannot confirme that which is any ways unreasonable of it selfe; Wisedome will not allow that which is many wayes dangerous, and no wayes profitable; Justice will not approve that government, where it cannot be but wrong must be committed. Neither can there be any rule by which to try it, nor meanes for reformation of it.

Therefore whosoever desireth government, must seeke such as he is capable of, not such as seemeth to himselfe most easie to execute; For it appeareth that it is easie to him that knoweth not law nor justice to rule as he listeth, his will never wanting a power to it selfe: but it is safe and blamelesse both for the Judge and People, and honour to the King, that Judges bee appointed who know the Law, and that they bee limited to governe according to the Law.

AN ESSAY ON DEATH,

By the Lord Chancellor Bacon.12

I HAVE often thought upon death, and find it the least of all evils. All that which is past is as a dream; and he that hopes or depends upon time coming, dreams waking. So much of our life as we have discovered is already dead; and all those hours which we share, even from the breasts of our mother, until we return to our grand-mother the earth, are part of our dying days; whereof even this is one, and those that succeed are of the same nature; for we die daily; and as others have given place to us, so we must in the end give way to others.

Physicians, in the name of death include all sorrow, anguish, disease, calamity, or whatsoever can fall in the life of man, either grievous or unwelcome: but these things are familiar unto us, and we suffer them every hour; therefore we die daily, and I am older since I affirmed it.

I know many wise men that fear to die; for the change is bitter, and flesh would refuse to prove it: besides, the expectation brings terror, and that exceeds the evil. But I do not believe that any man fears to be dead, but only the stroke of death and such are my hopes, that if heaven be pleased, and nature renew but my lease for twenty-one years more, without asking longer days, I shall be strong enough to acknowledge without mourning that I was begotten mortal. Virtue walks not in the highway, though she go per alta; this is strength and the blood to virtue, to contemn things that be desired, and to neglect that which is feared. Why should man be in love with his fetters, though of gold? Art thou drowned in security? Then I say thou art perfectly dead. For though thou movest, yet thy soul is buried within thee, and thy good angel either forsakes his guard or sleeps. There is nothing under heaven, saving a true friend, who cannot be

10 So both copies. It should probably be "himself".
11 So the original. The Remains has "limited".

12 Remains, p. 7.

And

counted within the number of moveables, unto which my heart doth lean. this dear freedom hath begotten me this peace, that I mourn not for that end which must be, nor spend one wish to have one minute added to the incertain date of my years. It was no mean apprehension of Lucian, who says of Menippus, that in his travels through hell he knew not the kings of the earth from other men, but only by their louder cryings and tears which was fostered in them through the remorseful memory of the good days they had seen, and the fruitful havings which they so unwillingly left behind them: he that was well seated, looked back at his portion, and was loth to forsake his farm; and others either minding marriages, pleasures, profit, or preferment, desired to be excused from death's banquet: they had made an appointment with earth, looking at the blessings, not the hand that enlarged them, forgetting how unclothedly they came hither, or with what naked ornaments they were arrayed.

But were we servants of the precept given, and observers of the heathens rule memento mori, and not become benighted with this seeming felicity, we should enjoy them as men prepared to lose, and not wind up our thoughts upon so perishing a fortune; he that is not slackly strong (as the servants of pleasure), how can he be found unready to quit the veil and false visage of his perfection? The soul having shaven off her flesh, doth then set up for herself, and contemning things that are under, shews what finger hath enforced her; for the souls of idiots are of the same piece with those of statesmen, but now and then nature is at a fault, and this good guest of ours takes soil in an unperfect body, and so is slackened from shewing her wonders; like an excellent musician, which cannot utter himself upon a defective instrument.

But see how I am swarved, and lose my course, touching at the soul, that doth least hold action with death, who hath the surest property in this frail act; his stile is the end of all flesh, and the beginning of incorruption.

This ruler of monuments leads men for the most part out of this world with their heels forward, in token that he is contrary to life; which being obtained, sends men headlong into this wretched theatre, where being arrived, their first language is that of mourning. Nor in my own thoughts can I compare men more fitly to any thing than to the Indian fig-tree, which being ripened to his full height, is said to decline his branches down to the earth; whereof she conceives again, and they become roots in their own stock. So man having derived his being from the earth, first lives the life of a tree, drawing his nourishment as a plant; and made ripe for death he tends downwards, and is sowed again in his mother the earth, where he perisheth not, but expects a quickening.

So we see death exempts a man not from being, but only presents an alteration; yet there are some men, I think, that stand otherwise persuaded. Death finds not a worse friend than an alderman, to whose door I never knew him welcome; but he is an importunate guest, and will not be said nay.

And though they themselves shall affirm that they are not within, yet the answer will not be taken; and that which heightens their fear is, that they know they are in danger to forfeit their flesh, but are not wise of the payment day: which sickly uncertainty is the occasion that (for the most part) they step out of this world unfurnished for their general account, and being all unprovided, desire yet to hold their gravity, preparing their souls to answer in scarlet.

Thus I gather that death is unagreeable to most citizens, because they commonly die intestate: this being a rule, that when their will is made, they think themselves nearer a grave than before: now they, out of the wisdom of thousands, think to scare destiny, from which there is no appeal, by not making a will, or to live longer by protestation of their unwillingness to die. They are for the most part well made in this world (accounting their treasure by legions, as men do devils), their fortune looks toward them, and they are willing to anchor at it, and desire (if it be possible) to put the evil day far off from them, and to adjourn their ungrateful and killing period. No, these are not the men which have bespoken death, or whose looks are assured to entertain a thought of him. Death arrives gracious only to such as sit in darkness, or lie heavy burdened with grief and irons; to the poor Christian, that sits bound in the galley; to despairful widows, pensive prisoners, and deposed kings: to them whose fortune

runs back, and whose spirit mutinies; unto such death is a redeemer, and the grave a place for retiredness and rest.

These wait upon the shore of death, and waft unto him to draw near, wishing above all others to see his star, that they might be led to his place, wooing the remorseless sisters to wind down the watch of their life, and to break them off before the hour.

But death is a doleful messenger to an usurer, and fate untimely cuts their thread for it is never mentioned by him but when rumours of war and civil tumults put him in mind thereof.

And when many hands are armed, and the peace of a city in disorder, and the foot of the common soldiers sounds an alarm on his stairs, then perhaps such a one, (broken in thoughts of his moneys abroad, and cursing the monuments of coin which are in his house), can be content to think of death, and (being hasty of perdition) will perhaps hang himself, lest his throat should be cut; provided that he may do it in his study, surrounded with wealth, to which his eye sends a faint and languishing salute, even upon the turning off; remembering always, that he have time and liberty, by writing, to depute himself as his own heir. For that is a great peace to his end, and reconciles him wonderfully upon the point.

Herein we all dally with ourselves, and are without proof of necessity.13 I am not of those that dare promise to pine away myself in vain-glory, and I hold such to be but feat boldness, and them that dare commit it to be vain. Yet for my part, I think nature should do me great wrong, if I should be so long in dying, as I was in being born.14

To speak truth, no man knows the lists of his own patience; nor can divine how able he shall be in his sufferings, till the storm come (the perfectest virtue being tried in action), but I would (out of a care to do the best business well) ever keep a guard, and stand upon keeping faith and a good conscience.

And if wishes might find place, I would die together, and not my mind often, and my body once; that is, I would prepare for the messengers of death, sickness and affliction, and not wait long, or be tempted by the violence of pain. Herein I do not profess myself a Stoic, to hold grief no evil, but opinion, and a thing indifferent.

But I consent with Cæsar, that the suddenest passage is easiest, and there is nothing more awakens our resolve and readiness to die, than the quieted conscience, strengthened with opinion that we shall be well spoken of upon earth by those that are just, and of the family of virtue; the opposite whereof is a fury to man, and makes even life unsweet.

Therefore, what is more heavy than evil fame deserved? Or, likewise, who can see worse days, than he that yet living doth follow at the funerals of his own reputation? I have laid up many hopes, that I am privileged from that kind of mourning, and could wish the like peace to all those with whom I wage love. I might say much of the commodities that death can sell a man ; but briefly, death is a friend of ours, and he that is not ready to entertain him, is not at home. Whilst I am, my ambition is not to fore-flow the tide ; I have but so to make my interest of it, as I may account for it; I would wish nothing but what might better my days, nor desire any greater place than the front of good opinion. I make not love to the continuance of days, but to the goodness of them; nor wish to die, but refer myself to my hour, which the great dispenser of all things hath appointed me; yet as I am frail, and suffered for the first fault, were it given me to choose, I should not be earnest to see the evening of my age; that extremity of itself being a disease, and a mere return into infancy: so that if perpetuity of life might be given me, I should think what the Greek poet said, Such an age is a mortal evil. And since I must needs be dead, I require it may not be done before mine enemies, that I be not stript before I be cold; but before my friends. The night was even now; but that name is lost; it is not now late, but early. Mine eyes begin to discharge their watch, and compound with this fleshly weakness for a time of perpetual rest; and I shall presently be as happy for a few hours, as I had died the first hour I was born.

13 So the original. Modern editions read "till necessity;" probably a conjectura correction; and (I suspect) not the true reading.

14 them in the last sentence, and yet in this, are omitted in the original.

OF THE WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS

[Translation of De Sapientia Veterum.]

PREFACE.

BY JAMES SPEDDING.

THE treatise De Sapientia Veterum was first published in 1609, in a small duodecimo volume, carefully and beautifully printed in the elegant italic type then in use. It appears to have become speedily popular, and was once or twice reprinted during Bacon's life, and translated both into English and Italian. In 1623, he introduced three of the fables, revised and considerably enlarged, into the De Augmentis Scientiarum, as a specimen of one of the Desiderata. Two others he had designed for the foundation of an elaborate discussion of the philosophy of Democritus, Parmenides, and Telesius; of which a considerable fragment has been preserved. [The De Principiis, above, pp. 647-69.] A year or two before his death he designed to include the whole volume among the Opera Moralia et Civilia, of which he was then preparing a collection, and in which it was afterwards published by Dr. Rawley, along with the Latin translations of the History of Henry VII., the Essays, the New Atlantis, and the Dialogue of a Holy War. There can be no doubt therefore that it was a work which he thought well of, and meant to live.

Of the history of it all I know further is that four of the fables,-namely, Metis sive Consilium, Soror Gigantum sive Fama, Calum sive Origines and Proteus sive Materia, are found in the same form in the fragment which I have entitled Cogitationes de Scientiâ Humanâ, and which I suppose to have been written before 1605.

The object of the work was probably to obtain a more favourable hearing for certain philosophical doctrines of Bacon's own; for it seems certain that the fables themselves could never have suggested the ideas, however a man to whom the ideas had suggested themselves might find or fancy he found them in the fables. But the theory on which his interpretation rests, namely that a period of high intellectual cultivation had existed upon the earth and passed out of memory long before the days of Homer, was, I suppose, seriously entertained by hini; nor was it a thing so difficult to believe then as it seems now. When a new continent was first discovered, in which the savage inhabitants were found laden with golden ornaments, it was easy to believe in the rumours of El Dorado; and when the buried fragments of Greek and Roman civilisation were first brought up for the examination of a new age, they might easily suggest to the imagination a world of wonders still unrecovered. But when voyager after voyager returned from America, bringing no confirmation of the first rumours, they ceased to be credible; and now that men have been employed for centuries in diligently collecting and discussing the monuments of antiquity, and yet no further evidence of that period of primeval wisdom has been discovered, the balance of probability turns against the speculation. Comparative philology, coupled with comparative mythology, teaches us to seek for an explanation of the ancient mythes in a new direction; and from these sciences Bacon, though I think he would have accepted them as the best guides in the inquiry, could have no help; for they could hardly be said to exist at all in his time. Regarded therefore as attempts to explain the true historical origin of these fables, his interpretations, however elegant and ingenious, may be set aside, as having lost their serious interest for us. And though they would furnish an editor possessed of the requisite learning, and so minded, with an

opportunity of displaying a vast deal of erudition, it would, I think, be wasted in this place. In so far as the question could be settled by the light of common sense with such knowledge as Bacon had, little could be added probably on either side to what he has himself said in his prefatory disquisition. In so far as it depends upon the knowledge which has since been acquired concerning the ancient languages and literature of the East, it should be discussed without reference to Bacon, who had no such knowledge, and would in all probability, if it had been revealed to him, have given up his own conjecture as untenable.

The interest which the book still possesses for us (and it has always been a great favourite with me) is of quite another kind; nor has either change of times or increase of knowledge at all abated its freshness. It is an interest precisely of the same kind with that which in the Essays shows no symptoms of becoming obso lete. The interpretation of each fable is in fact an essay or counsel," civil, moral, or philosophical; embodying the results of Bacon's own thought and ob servation upon the nature of men and things, and replete with good sense of the best quality.

The great popularity of this book during the first half of the seventeenth century may have been partly due to the reputation which it then had among scholars as a work of learning and authority; and if so, the decline of its popularity may be accounted for by the abatement of that reputation. Students of Greek naturally neglect it, because it passes no longer for an orthodox exposition of the meaning of the Greek fables. Students of nature and the business of modern life naturally pass it by, not expecting to find under such a title and in a dead lan guage the sort of entertainment they are in search of. But I see no other reason why it should not be as great a favourite with modern readers and be found as anusing and instructive as the Essays are; the matter being of as good quality, and the form not less attractive.

Upon this view of its character, and having a due regard to my own qualifications, I have thought it best to leave points of learning to those who are more competent to handle them (for the most I could do in that way would be to report conclusions which I am not in a condition to verify), and content myself with endeavouring by means of a new translation to bring the book within reach of the less learned. For though three English translations of it have been published, one of which was once very popular, and all are extant and accessible, I do not find any of them much quoted or referred to now, as if they had obtained any real currency among English readers. Whether my attempt will fare better, remains to be seen; but if I have succeeded in putting into the translation so much of the life of the original, that those who are fond of the Essays may read it with some thing of the same feeling, I shall not regret the pains I have taken in the matter

With regard to the enigma which these ancient mythes present us with, I have said that the researches of modern science teach us to look for the true solution of it in a direction quite different from that which Bacon took. And without affecting to offer anything that can be called an opinion on the subject for myself, I am fortunately able to illustrate my meaning by an example of a modern solution derived from one whose information includes probably everything that is known with reference to the question at issue, up to the latest dates. I allude to Professor Max Müller's paper on Comparative Mythology in the Oxford Essays of 1856 The difficulty to be explained, as stated by him, is substantially the same as that which Bacon puts forward most prominently among his reasons for concluding that these old fables involved an allegorical meaning. "Let us think," says Professor Müller, "of the times which could bear a Lykurgos and a Solon,--which could found an Areopagos and the Olympic games, and how can we imagine that a few generations before that time, the highest notions of the Godhead among the Greeks were adequately expressed by the story of Uranos maimed by Kronos,of Kronos eating his children, swallowing a stone, and vomiting out alive his whole progeny ? The difficulty is, how at first the human mind was led to such imaginings, how the names and the tales arose; and unless this question can be answered, our belief in a regular and consistent progress of the human intellect