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

to light, he thought it might be truly conjectured about those which are yet hidden. But some of them are of that kind that, before their discovery, surmises of them would not readily come into any one's mind. For, men commonly guess at new things by a likeness to old ones, and by ideas learned of them, which is a very vain way of thinking, since those things that are sought from the fountain-head do not flow through the common channels. Thus, if some one, before the invention of firearms, had described them by their effects, and had said that a discovery was just made by means of which walls and the strongest fortifications might be battered and beaten down from a great distance, men would certainly reason much and variously about multiplying the powers of casting engines and machinery, by weights, wheels, and the like; but the idea of fiery wind could scarcely occur, as what they had never seen an instance of, except perchance in an earthquake or thunderstorm, which they had neglected, as not imitable. In like manner if, before the invention of silken thread, some one had spoken thus: that there was a certain kind of thread useful for dress and furniture, which much excelled linen and woollen thread in fineness, and, notwithstanding, strength, and moreover gloss and softness; men would immediately begin to think of some vegetable silk, or the delicate part of some animal's hair, or the feathers and down of birds, but would never guess the fabric of a worm, and that too in such plenty and every year. And if any one had dropped a hint about worms, he would certainly have been ridiculed for dreaming of some new works of spiders. And hence, for the most part, those things which are still hidden in the womb of nature have this same property, that they escape and elude the imaginations and reasoning of men. So he thought, if it check any one's hope of new inventions, that, by inference from those before us, he counts them either impossible or unlikely, he should know that he is not competent, even to wish fitly and usefully.

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

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

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

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

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

He accepted also as happy omens what he observed in the mechanical arts and their success, especially when compared with philosophy. For the mechanical arts, as if enjoying a certain vital air, grow and perfect themselves daily; while philosophy, like a statue, is adored and celebrated, but moves not. The former also are seen rude, and commonly without proportion and cumbrous in the hands of their first authors; but afterwards get new strength and aptness. The latter is in its greatest vigour with its first author, and after-way is not stopped up by any block or barrier, but wards declines. And the real cause of this dif- turns from the path of men: it does, therefore, ferent success is that, in the mechanical arts, the cause in some measure the fear of solitude, but wits of many meet together in one; but in philo-threatens nothing more. In fine, he determined sophy the wits of all are spoiled by one. For that, if even a much weaker and less sensible air after they have surrendered themselves they give breathed from that new continent, it should yet be no increase, but are employed in the servile office attempted. For there is not the same danger in of dressing and attending one. Wherefore every not trying a thing and not succeeding in it; since, philosophy, torn up from the roots of experience, in the former case, the loss of a great benefit, in from which it first sprung and grew, becomes the latter, of a little human labour is concerned. dead matter. And, roused by this thought, he ob- In truth, both from what has and has not been served also, that the means of arts and sciences said, he saw well that there was sufficient hope, are, by universal consent, empirical or rational, | not only for a diligent man to make trial, but also that is, philosophical; but he has not yet seen these well put together and united. For the empirical, like the ant, only collects and uses; the rational, like the spider, spins from itself. But the practice of the bee is midway, which draws materials from the flowers of both garden and field, but transmutes and digests them by a faculty of its own. Nor is the work of true philosophy different, which stores up the matter supplied by natural history and mechanical experiments, not raw in the memory, but changed and prepared in the understanding. And he is aware that there are some of the empirical who wish not to be held as merely empirical, and of the reasoners who aim at seeming industrious and plain in practice. But these have been and are the artifices of a few, aiming at the character of each excelling in his own sect; though, in reality, there has always been a division and almost antipathy between these faculties. So he thought there was hope of excellent effects from a close and confirmed union of them.

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

for a prudent and sober one to give credit.

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

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

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

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

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was handling a subject which it were unbecoming to defile with any ambition or affectation; but yet that he must needs descend to the recollection, (unless indeed he were very inexperienced in affairs and minds, and would begin his journey without any search,) that inveterate errors, like the ravings of the lunatic, must be subdued by art and contrivance, and are aggravated by violence and opposition. We must, therefore, use prudence, and humour them, (as far as we can with simplicity and candour,) that contradictions may be extinguished before they are inflamed. For this object he is preparing a work on nature, which may destroy errors with the least harsh

from the particulars digested into tables, to the inquisition after new particulars, (which is nevertheless itself a useful thing, and like a kind of learned experience,) but that we should first proceed to general and large comprehensions, and so far indulge the natural bent of the understanding. But at the same time he saw that the natural but vicious motion and impulse of the mind to jump from particulars to high and general comprehensions, (such as what are called the first principles of arts and things,) and to get at the rest by descending through the middle ones, must be altogether checked; but the nearest comprehensions must be first drawn out and discovered, and then the middle ones, and we must climb the true lad-ness, and enter the senses of mankind without der by repeated steps. For the paths of thought and understanding almost agree with that twofold way in morals, sung by the ancients; for one road, smooth at the entrance, leads to pathless wilds, the other, steep and difficult at first, ends in level road.

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

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

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

G. W.

OF THE

PRINCIPLES AND ORIGINS OF NATURE,

ACCORDING TO THE FABLES OF CUPID AND HEAVEN:

OR, THE

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

But

certain light of the Divine Word has shone
upon men. That chaos therefore which was
coeval with Cupid, signified the confused and
disordered mass or collection of matter.
matter itself, with its power and nature, in a
word, the elements of things were shadowed out
in Cupid himself. He is introduced without a
parent, that is, without a cause: for cause is, as
it were, the parent of effect; and in tropical dis-
course nothing is therefore more usual than for
the parent to stand for cause, and the offspring
for effect. But there cannot be in nature (for we
always except God) any cause of the first mat-
ter, and of its proper influence and action, for
there is nothing prior in time to the first matter.
Therefore there is no efficient nor any thing more
known to nature; there is therefore neither genus
nor form. Wherefore whatever primitive matter
is, together with its influence and action, it is sui
generis, and admits of no definition drawn from
perception, and is to be taken just as it is found,
and not to be judged of from any preconceived
idea. For the mode of it, if it is given to us to

THE fables of the ancients repecting Cupid or Love, cannot be made to agree in one and the same person. They indeed profess to speak of two Cupids of two different periods, the one the most ancient of the gods, the other of a much later era. At present we will treat of the ancient Cupid. They relate that this Cupid was the most ancient of the gods, and therefore of all things, excepting chaos, which is said to have been coeval with him. This Cupid had no parent, but being united to heaven, was the father of the gods and of all things. Some indeed would derive him from an egg over which Night brooded. Different atttributes are ascribed to him, so that he is represented as a boy blind, naked, winged, and armed with darts. His chief and especial influence is over the uniting of bodies. To him were given the keys of the earth, the sea, and the sky. Another and younger Cupid is also celebrated in fable, the son of Venus. To him are ascribed the attributes of the ancient Cupid, besides many peculiar to himself. This fable, with the sequel respecting heaven, seems to embrace in a concise parable the doc-know it, cannot be judged of by means of its trine of the elements of things and of the origin of the world, and to agree with that of Democritus, except that it appears somewhat closer, more reasonable, and clearer. For the observations of that confessedly acute and accurate philosopher nevertheless were of a too diffusive nature, and did not seem to keep their proper limit, and to confine and support themselves sufficiently. And indeed these dogmas, which lie veiled in the parable, although better regulated, are yet of such a nature as to appear to have come from the mind left to itself, and not uniformly and gradually assisted by experience; for this seems to have been the common fault of antiquity. But it must first be remarked, that the opinions brought forward in this part of my treatise were the conclusions and productions of unassisted reason, and rested on perception alone, the failing and imperfect oracles of which are deservedly rejected, now that the higher and more

cause, seeing that it is, next to God, the cause of causes, itself without a cause. For there is a certain real limit of causes in nature, and it would argue levity and inexperience in a philosopher to require or imagine a cause for the last and positive power and law of nature, as much as it would not to demand a cause in those that are subordinate.

On this account the ancients have fabled Cupid to be without a parent, that is, without a cause. And they did so not without design. Nay, perhaps there is not any thing more important; for nothing has more corrupted philosophy than the seeking after the parents of Cupid; I mean, that philosophers have not received and embraced the elements of things as they are found in nature, as a certain fixed and positive doctrine, and as it were by an experimental trust in them; but have rather deduced them from the laws of words, and from dialectics and slight mathematical conclu

sions and common notions, and similar wander- fire, nor any other thing, the body of which is ings of the mind beyond the bounds of nature. perceptible by sense, or open to the touch." And This, therefore, must be constantly in the philoso- again he says of their nature, "but it is requisite pher's thoughts, that Cupid is without parents, lest perchance his understanding turn aside to empty questions; because in universal perceptions of this kind the human mind becomes diffusive, and departs from the right use of itself and of its objects, and, whilst it tends toward things more distant, falls back upon those that are nearer. For when, through its own limited capacity, it is accustomed to be most affected by those things which occur familiarly to it, and which can enter and strike the mind suddenly; it comes to pass that when it stretches itself toward those things which, according to experience, are for the most part universal, and, nevertheless, is unwilling to rest satisfied, then, as if desirous of something more within the reach of its knowledge, it turns itself to those things which have most effected or allured it, and imagines them to be more causative and palpable than those universals. Therefore, it has been now laid down that the first essence of things, or Cupid, is without a cause.

We have now to inquire into the mode of this thing which is uncaused; and the mode of it is likewise very obscure, which indeed the fable elegantly hints in Cupid being hatched beneath the brooding wing of night. So at least the inspired philosopher saith, "God hath made all things beautiful in their seasons: He hath also set the world in their heart, yet so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning unto the end." For the great law of essence and nature which cuts and runs through the vicissitudes of things, (which law seems to be described in the compass of the words, "the work which God wrought from the beginning even to the end,") the power lodged by God in the primitive particles, from the multiplication of which, the whole variety of things might spring forth and be composed, may indeed just strike, but cannot enter deeply the mind of man. But, that saying concerning the egg of night, is very aptly referred to those proofs by means of which our Cupid is brought to light. For those proofs which are concluded by means of affirmatives, seem to be the offspring of light; those which are concluded by means of negatives and exclusions, may be called the offspring of darkness and night: and Cupid is in truth the egg sprung from night; for all the knowledge we can gather respecting him comes by the way of negatives and exclusions. But a proof gathered by exclusions has still some degree of ignorance in it, and is a kind of night as to that which is included in it: whence Democritus admirably remarked, that the atoms or seeds and their properties were like nothing that falls under the observation of sense, and held them to be of a dark and secret nature. He there

the elements in the work of creation, should put
forth a secret and dark nature, lest any contrarious
and opposing principle arise." Therefore atoms
are neither like sparks of fire, nor drops of water,
nor bubbles of air, nor grains of sand, nor the
minute particles of spirit or ether. Nor, is the
power and form of them a something heavy or
light, or hot or cold, or dense or rare, or hard or
soft, as are found in larger bodies, since those
powers, and the rest of that order, are compounded
and wrought together. And, in like manner, the
natural motion of an atom is neither that motion
of descent which is called natural, nor a motion
opposed to that force, nor a motion of expansion
and contraction, nor of impulsion and connexion,
nor the rotatory motion of the heavenly bodies,
nor any other of the greater motions simply. But,
notwithstanding this, in the body of an atom are
the elements of all bodies, and in the nature of an
atom the beginning of all motions and natural
properties. But, yet, in this very point, namely,
the motion of an atom as compared with the
motion of greater substances, the philosophy of
the parable appears to differ from that of Demo-
critus. For he is not only opposed to the parable,
but inconsistent, if not contradictory in his more
copious assertions on this head. For he should
have ascribed a heterogeneous motion to an
atom not less than a heterogeneous body and
power. But, he out of the motions of greater
substances, has chosen two, to ascribe them as
primitive motions to atoms, namely, the descent
of heavy and the ascent of light bodies, (which he
explained by the striking or the percussion of the
more heavy, in forcing upwards the less heavy
bodies.) But the parable all along preserves the
heterogeneous and exclusive nature it ascribes to
atoms, as well in speaking of its motion as of its
substance. But the parable further intimates,
that this exclusion has its limit, for night does
not brood over the egg forever: and it is certainly
proper to the Deity, that in our inquiry into his
nature by means of the senses, exclusions should
not terminate in affirmatives. And there is another
reason for this, namely, that after the due exclu-
sions and negations, something should be affirmed
and settled, and that the egg should be produced
as it were by a seasonable and mature incubation;
not only that the egg should be brought forth by
night, but also that the person of Cupid should be
delivered of the egg: that is, that not only should
an obscure notion upon this subject be originated,
but one that is distinct. Thus much
upon demon-
strations, as far as they can be given, upon the
first matter, and I think in accordance with the
parable.

We come now to Cupid himself, the primitive fore pronounced of them, "They are neither like matter and its properties, involved in so great

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