THE WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

THE PREFACE.

THE earliest antiquity lies buried in silence and oblivion, excepting the remains we have of it in sacred writ. This silence was succeeded by poetical fables, and these, at length, by the writings we now enjoy; so that the concealed and secret learning of the ancients seems separated from the history and knowledge of the following ages by a veil, or partition-wall of fables, interposing between the things that are lost and those that remain.

Many may imagine that I am here entering upon a work of fancy, or amusement, and design to use a poetical liberty, in explaining poetical fables. It is true, fables in general are composed of ductile matter, that may be drawn into great variety by a witty talent or an inventive genius, and be delivered of plausible meanings which they never contained. But this procedure has already been carried to excess; and great numbers, to procure the sanction of antiquity to their own notions and inventions, have miserably wrested and abused the fables of the ancients.

Nor is this only a late or unfrequent practice, but of ancient date, and common even to this day. Thus Chrysippus, like an interpreter of dreams, attributed the opinions of the Stoics to the poets of old; and the chemists, at present, more childishly apply the poetical transformations to their experiments of the furnace. And though I have well weighed and considered all this, and thoroughly seen into the levity which the mind indulges for allegories and allusions, yet I cannot but retain a high value for the ancient mythology. And, certainly, it were very injudicious to suffer the fondness and licentiousness of a few to detract from the honour of allegory and parable in general. This would be rash, and almost profane; for, since religion delights in such shadows and disguises, to abolish them were, in a manner, to prohibit all intercourse betwixt things divine and human.

Upon deliberate consideration, my judgment is, that a concealed instruction aud allegory was originally intended in many of the ancient fables. This opinion may, in some respect, be owing to the veneration I have for antiquity, but more to observing that some fables discover a great and evident similitude, relation, and connection with the thing they signify, as well in the structure of the fable as in the propriety of the names whereby the persons or actors are characterized; insomuch, that no one could positively deny à sense and meaning to be from the first intended, and purposely shadowed out in them. For who can hear that Fame, after the giants were destroyed, sprung up as their posthumous sister, and not apply it to the clamour of parties and the seditious rumours which commonly fly about for a time upon the quelling of insurrections? Or who can read how the giant Typhon cut out and carried away Jupiter's sinews-which Mercury afterwards stole and again restored to Jupiter-and not presently observe that this allegory denotes strong and powerful rebellions, which cut away from kings their sinews, both of money and authority; and that the way to have them restored is by lenity, affability, and prudent edicts, which soon reconcile, and as it were steal upon the affections of the subject? Or who, upon hearing that memorable expedition of

the gods against the giants, when the braying of Silenus's ass greatly contributed in putting the giants to flight, does not clearly conceive that this directly points at the monstrous enterprises of rebellious subjects, which are frequently frustrated and disappointed by vain fears and empty rumours?

Again, the conformity and purport of the names is frequently manifest and self-evident. Thus Metis, the wife of Jupiter, plainly signifies counsel; Typhon, swelling; Pan, universality; Nemesis, revenge, &c. Nor is it a wonder, if sometimes a piece of history or other things are introduced, by way of ornament; or if the times of the action are confounded; or if part of one fable be tacked to another; or if the allegory be new turned; for all this must necessarily happen, as the fables were the inventions of men who lived in different ages and had different views; some of them being ancient, others more modern; some having an eye to natural philosophy, and others to morality or civil policy.

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It may pass for a farther indication of a concealed and secret meaning, that some of these fables are so absurd and idle in their narration as to show and proclaim an allegory, even afar off. A fable that carries probability with it may be supposed invented for pleasure, or in imitation of history; but those that could never be conceived or related in this way must surely have a different use. example, what a monstrous fiction is this, that Jupiter should take Metis to wife, and as soon as he found her pregnant eat her up, whereby he also conceived, and out of his head brought forth Pallas armed. Certainly no mortal could, but for the sake of the moral it couches, invent such an absurd dream as this, so much out of the road of thought!

But the argument of most weight with me is this, that many of these fables by no means appear to have been invented by the persons who relate and divulge them, whether Homer, Hesiod, or others; for if I were assured they first flowed from those later times and authors that transmit them to us, I should never expect anything singularly great or noble from such an origin. But whoever attentively considers the thing, will find that these fables are delivered down and related by those writers, not as matters then first invented and proposed, but as things received and embraced in earlier ages. Besides, as they are differently related by writers nearly of the same ages, it is easily perceived that the relators drew from the common stock of ancient tradition, and varied but in point of embellishment, which is their own. And this principally raises my esteem of these fables, which I receive, not as the product of the age, or invention of the poets, but as sacred relics, gentle whispers, and the breath of better times, that from the traditions of more ancient nations came, at length, into the flutes and trumpets of the Greeks. But if any one shall, notwithstanding this, contend that allegories are always adventitious, or imposed upon the ancient fables, and no way native or genuinely contained in them, we might here leave him undisturbed in that gravity of judg ment he affects (though we cannot help accounting it somewhat dull and phlegmatic), and if it were worth the trouble, proceed to another kind of argument.

Men have proposed to answer two different and contrary ends by the use of parable; for parables serve as well to instruct or illustrate as to wrap up and envelop, so that though, for the present, we drop the concealed use, and suppose the ancient fables to be vague, undeterminate things, formed for amusement, still the other use must remain, and can never be given up. And every man, of any learning, must readily allow that this method of instructing is grave, sober, or exceedingly useful, and sometimes necessary in the sciences, as it opens an easy and familiar passage to the human understanding, in all new discoveries that are abstruse and out of the road of vulgar opinions. Hence, in the first ages, when such inventions and conclusions of the human reason as are now trite and common were new and little known, all things abounded with fables, parables, similes, comparisons, and allusions, which were not intended to conceal, but to inform and teach, whilst the minds of men continued rude and unpractised in matters of subtilty and speculation, or even impatient, and in a manner uncapable of receiving such things as did not directly fall under and strike the senses. as hieroglyphics were in use before writing, so were parables in use before argu

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ments. And even to this day, if any man would let new light in upon the human understanding, and conquer prejudice, without raising contests, animosities, opposition, or disturbance, he must still go in the same path, and have recourse to the like method of allegory, metaphor, and allusion.

To conclude, the knowledge of the early ages was either great or happy; great, if they by design made this use of trope and figure; happy, if, whilst they had other views, they afforded matter and occasion to such noble contemplations. Let either be the case, our pains, perhaps, will not be misemployed, whether we illustrate antiquity or things themselves.

The like has been attempted by others; but to speak ingenuously, their great and voluminous labours have almost destroyed the energy, the efficacy, and grace of the thing, whilst, being unskilled in nature, and their learning no more than that of common-place, they have applied the sense of the parables to certain general and vulgar matters, without reaching to their real purport, genuine interpretation, and full depth. For myself, therefore, I expect to appear new in these common things, because, leaving untouched such as are sufficiently plain and open, I shall drive only at those that are either deep or rich.

I. THE FABLE OF COLUM.

EXPLAINED OF THE CREATION, OR ORIGIN OF ALL THINGS.

THE poets relate that Cœlum was the most ancient of all the gods; that his parts of generation were cut off by his son Saturn; that Saturn had a numerous offspring, but devoured all his sons, as soon as they were born; that Jupiter at length escaped the common fate; and when grown up, drove his father Saturn into Tartarus; usurped the kingdom; cut off his father's genitals, with the same knife wherewith Saturn had dismembered Cœlum, and throwing them into the sea, thence sprung Venus.

Before Jupiter was well established in his empire, two memorable wars were made upon him: the first by the Titans, in subduing of whom, Sol, the only one of the Titans who favoured Jupiter, performed him singular service; the second by the giants, whom being destroyed and subdued by the thunder and arms of Jupiter, he now reigned secure.

EXPLANATION.-This fable appears to be an enigmatical account of the origin of all things, not greatly differing from the philosophy afterwards embraced by Democritus, who expressly asserts the eternity of matter, but denies the eternity of the world; thereby approaching to the truth of sacred writ, which makes chaos, or uninformed matter, to exist before the six days' works.

The meaning of the fable seems to be this: Cœlum denotes the concave space, or vaulted roof that incloses all matter, and Saturn the matter itself, which cuts off all power of generation from his father; as one and the same quantity of matter remains invariable in nature,

inveterated into men's minds.* But as the best divinations and predictions are the politic and probable foresight and conjectures of wise men, so in this matter the providence of King Henry the Seventh was in all men's mouths; who being one of the deepest and most prudent princes of the world, upon the deliberation concerning the marriage of his eldest daughter into Scotland, had, by some speech uttered by him, showed himself sensible and almost prescient of this event.

A concurrence of several uncommon external circumstances gave great reputation to this succession. A king in the strength of his years, supported with great alliances abroad, established with royal issue at home, at peace with all the world, practised in the regiment of such a kingdom, as might rather enable a king by variety of accidents than corrupt him with affluence or vain glory; and one that, besides his universal capacity and judgment, was notably exercised and practised in matters of religion and the church, which in these times, by the confused use of both swords, are become so intermixed with considerations of estate, as most of the counsels of sovereign princes or republics depend upon them.

But nothing did more fill foreign nations with admiration and expectation of his succession than the wonderful and, by them, unexpected consent of all estates and subjects of England, for the receiving of the king without the least scruple, pause, or question. For it had been generally dispersed by the fngitives beyond the seas, who, partly to apply themselves to the ambition of foreigners, and partly to give estimation and value to their own employments, used to represent the state of England in a false light, that after Queen Elizabeth's decease there must follow in England nothing but confusions, interreigns, and perturbations of estate, likely far to exceed the ancient calamities of the civil wars between the houses of Lancaster and York, by how much more the dissensions were like to be more mortal and bloody when foreign competition should be added to domestical, and divisions for religion to matter of title to the crown.

And in particular, Parsons the Jesuit, under a disguised name, had not long before published an expresst reatise, wherein, whether his malice made him believe his own fancies, or whether he thought it the fittest way to move sedition, like evil spirits, which seem to foretell the tempest they mean to move; he laboured to display and give colour to all the vain pretences and dreams of succession which he could imagine, and thereby had possessed many abroad that knew not the affair here, with those his vanities.

There were also within this realm divers persons both wise and well affected, who, though they questioned not the right, yet setting before themselves the waves of people's hearts, guided no less by sudden and temporary winds than by the natural course and motion of the waters, were not without fear what might be the event. For Queen Elizabeth

* The prophecy here meant seems to be this: When Hempe is spun England's done.

being a princess of extreme caution, and yet one that loved admiration above safety, and knowing the declaration of a successor might in point of safety be disputable, but in point of admiration and respect, assuredly to her disadvantage, had from the beginning set it down for a maxim of estate to impose a silence touching succession.*

Nay, it was not only reserved as a secret of state, but restrained by severe laws, that no man should presume to give opinion or maintain argument touching the same; so, though the evidence of right drew all the subjects of the land to think one thing, yet the fear of danger of law made no man privy to others' thought. And therefore it rejoiced all men to see so fair a morning of a kingdom, and to be thoroughly secured of former apprehensions, as a man that awaketh out of a frightful dream.

And thus not only the consent but the applause and joy was infinite, and not to be expressed, throughout the realm of England, upon this succession; whereof the consent, no doubt, may be truly ascribed to the clearness of the right, but the general joy, alacrity, and gratulation, were the effects of differing causes. For Queen Elizabeth, although she had the use of many both virtues and demonstrations that might draw and knit unto her the hearts of her people, yet nevertheless carrying hand restrained in gift, and strained in points of prerogative, could not answer the votes either of servants or subjects to a full contentment, especially in her latter days, when the continuance of her reign, which extended to five-and-forty years, might discover in people their natural desire and inclination towards change; so that a new court and a new reign were not unwelcome to many. Numbers rejoiced, and especially those of settled estate and fortune, that the fears and uncertainties were overblown, and that the die was cast. Others, that had made their way with the king, or offered their service in the time of the former queen, thought now the time was come for which they had prepared; and generally all such as had any dependence upon the late earl of Essex, who had mingled the service of his own ends with the popular pretence of advancing the king's title, made account their cause was amended.

Again, such as might misdoubt they had given the king any occasion of distaste, did contend by their forwardness and confidence to show it was but their fastness to the former government, and that those affections ended with the time. The papists fed their hopes, by comparing the case of the papists in England and under Queen Elizabeth, and the case of the papists in Scotland under the king; construing their condition in Scotland the less grievous, and forming conjectures of the king's government here accordingly, besides the comfort they ministered to themselves from the memory of the queen his mother. The ministers, and those which stood for the presbytery, thought their cause had more sympathy with the discipline of Scotland than the hierarchy of England, and so took themselves to be a degree nearer

* See the character of this queen.