| Cryptographic Shakespeare |
| Cryptographic Shakespeare |
1601
THE ESSAYS
by Francis Bacon
From the English Dept. of the Carnegie Mellon University
(http://english-www.hss.cmu.edu/)
A glossary is at the end of this file..
OF TRUTH
What is truth? said jesting Pilate, and would not stay for an answer. Certainly there be, that delight in giddiness, and
count it a bondage to fix a belief; affecting free-will in thinking, as well as in acting. And though the sects of
philosophers of that
kind be gone, yet there remain certain discoursing wits, which are of the same veins, though there be not so much
blood in them, as was in those of the ancients. But it is not only the difficulty and labor, which men take in finding
out of truth, nor again, that when it is found, it imposeth upon men's thoughts, that doth bring lies in favor; but a
natural though corrupt love, of the lie itself. One of the later school of the Grecians, examineth the matter, and is at a
stand, to think what should be in it, that men should love lies; where neither they make for pleasure, as with poets,
nor for advantage, as with the merchant; but for the lie's sake. But I cannot tell; this same truth, is a naked, and open
day-light, that doth not show the masks, and mummeries, and triumphs, of the world, half so stately and daintily as
candle-lights. Truth may perhaps come to the price of a pearl, that showeth best by day; but it will not rise to the
price of a diamond, or carbuncle, that showeth best in varied lights. A mixture of a lie doth ever add pleasure. Doth
any man doubt, that if there were taken out of men's minds, vain opinions, flattering hopes, false valuations,
imaginations as one would, and the like, but it would leave the minds, of a number of men, poor shrunken things,
full of melancholy and indisposition, and unpleasing to themselves?
One of the fathers, in great severity, called poesy vinum doemonum, because it filleth the imagination; and yet,
it is but with the shadow of a lie. But it is not the lie that passeth through the mind, but the lie that sinketh in, and
settleth in it, that doth the hurt; such as we spake of before. But, howsoever these things are thus in men's depraved
judgments, and affections, yet truth, which only doth judge itself, teacheth that the inquiry of truth, which is the
love-making, or wooing of it, the knowledge of truth, which is the presence of it, and the belief of truth, which is the
enjoying of it, is the sovereign good of human nature. The first creature of God, in the works of the days, was the
light of the sense; the last, was the light of reason; and his sabbath work ever since, is the illumination of his Spirit.
First he breathed light, upon the face of the matter or chaos; then he breathed light, into the face of man; and still he
breatheth and inspireth light, into the face of his chosen. The poet, that beautified the sect, that was otherwise
inferior to the rest, saith yet excellently well: It is a pleasure, to stand upon the shore, and to see ships tossed upon
the sea; a pleasure, to stand in the window of a castle, and to see a battle, and the adventures thereof below: but no
pleasure is comparable to the standing upon the vantage ground of truth (a hill not to be commanded, and where the
air is always clear and serene), and to see the errors, and wanderings, and mists, and tempests, in the vale below; so
always that this prospect be with pity, and not with swelling, or pride. Certainly, it is heaven upon earth, to have a
man's mind move in charity, rest in providence, and turn upon the poles of truth.
To pass from theological, and philosophical truth, to the truth of civil business; it will be acknowledged, even by
those that practise it not, that clear, and round dealing, is the honor of man's nature; and that mixture of falsehoods,
is like alloy in coin of gold and silver, which may make the metal work the better, but it embaseth it. For these
winding, and crooked courses, are the goings of the serpent; which goeth basely upon the belly, and not upon the
feet. There is no vice, that doth so cover a man with shame, as to be found false and perfidious. And therefore
Montaigne saith prettily, when he inquired the reason, why the word of the lie should be such a disgrace, and such
an odious charge? Saith he, If it be well weighed, to say that a man lieth, is as much to say, as that he is brave
towards God, and a coward towards men. For a lie faces God, and shrinks from man. Surely the wickedness of
falsehood, and breach of faith, cannot possibly be so highly expressed, as in that it shall be the last peal, to call the
judgments of God upon the generations of men; it being foretold, that when Christ cometh, he shall not find faith
upon the earth.
OF DEATH
Men fear death, as children fear to go in the dark; and as that natural fear in children, is increased with tales, so is
the other. Certainly, the contemplation of death, as the wages of sin, and passage to another world, is holy and
religious; but the fear of it, as a tribute due unto nature, is weak. Yet in religious meditations, there is sometimes
mixture of vanity, and of superstition. You shall read, in some of the friars' books of mortification, that a man should
think with himself, what the pain is, if he have but his finger's end pressed, or tortured, and thereby imagine, what
the pains of death are, when the whole body is corrupted, and dissolved; when many times death passeth, with less
pain than the torture of a limb; for the most vital parts, are not the quickest of sense. And by him that spake only as
a philosopher, and natural man, it was well said, Pompa mortis magis terret, quam mors ipsa. Groans, and
convulsions, and a discolored face, and friends weeping, and blacks, and obsequies, and the like, show death
terrible. It is worthy the observing, that there is no passion in the mind of man, so weak, but it mates, and masters,
the fear of death; and therefore, death is no such terrible enemy, when a man hath so many attendants about him,
that can win the combat of him. Revenge triumphs over death; love slights it; honor aspireth to it; grief flieth to it;
fear preoccupateth it; nay, we read, after Otho the emperor had slain himself, pity (which is the tenderest of
affections) provoked many to die, out of mere compassion to their sovereign, and as the truest sort of followers.
Nay, Seneca adds niceness and satiety: Cogita quamdiu eadem feceris; mori velle, non tantum fortis aut miser, sed
etiam fastidiosus potest. A man would die, though he were neither valiant, nor miserable, only upon a weariness to
do the same thing so oft, over and over. It is no less worthy, to observe, how little alteration in good spirits, the
approaches of death make; for they appear to be the same men, till the last instant. Augustus Caesar died in a
compliment; Livia, conjugii nostri memor, vive et vale. Tiberius in dissimulation; as Tacitus saith of him, Jam
Tiberium vires et corpus, non dissimulatio, deserebant. Vespasian in a jest, sitting upon the stool; Ut puto deus fio.
Galba with a sentence; Feri, si ex re sit populi Romani; holding forth his neck. Septimius Severus in despatch; Adeste
si quid mihi restat agendum. And the like. Certainly the Stoics bestowed too much cost upon death, and by their
great preparations, made it appear more fearful. Better saith he qui finem vitae extremum inter munera ponat
naturae. It is as natural to die, as to be born; and to a little infant, perhaps, the one is as painful, as the other. He that
dies in an earnest pursuit, is like one that is wounded in hot blood; who, for the time, scarce feels the hurt; and
therefore a mind fixed, and bent upon somewhat that is good, doth avert the dolors of death. But, above all, believe
it, the sweetest canticle is, Nunc dimittis; when a man hath obtained worthy ends, and expectations. Death hath this
also; that it openeth the gate to good fame, and extinguisheth envy. -Extinctus amabitur idem.
OF UNITY IN RELIGION
Religion being the chief band of human society, is a happy thing, when itself is well contained within the true band
of unity. The quarrels, and divisions about religion, were evils unknown to the heathen. The reason was, because the
religion of the heathen, consisted rather in rites and ceremonies, than in any constant belief. For you may imagine,
what kind of faith theirs was, when the chief doctors, and fathers of their church, were the poets. But the true God
hath this attribute, that he is a jealous God; and therefore, his worship and religion, will endure no mixture, nor
partner. We shall therefore speak a few words, concerning the unity of the church; what are the fruits thereof; what
the bounds; and what the means.
The fruits of unity (next unto the well pleasing of God, which is all in all) are two: the one, towards those that
are without the church, the other, towards those that are within. For the former; it is certain, that heresies, and
schisms, are of all others the greatest scandals; yea, more than corruption of manners. For as in the natural body, a
wound, or solution of continuity, is worse than a corrupt humor; so in the spiritual. So that nothing, doth so much
keep men out of the church and drive men out of the church, as breach of unity. And therefore, whensoever it
cometh to that pass, that one saith, Ecce in deserto, another saith, Ecce in penetralibus; that is, when some men seek
Christ, in the conventicles of heretics, and others, in an outward face of a church, that voice had need continually to
sound in men's ears, Nolite exire, -Go not out. The doctor of the Gentiles (the propriety of whose vocation, drew him
to have a special care of those without) saith, if an heathen come in, and hear you speak with several tongues, will he
not say that you are mad? And certainly it is little better, when atheists, and profane persons, do hear of so many
discordant, and contrary opinions in religion; it doth avert them from the church, and maketh them, to sit down in
the chair of the scorners. It is but a light thing, to be vouched in so serious a matter, but yet it expresseth well the
deformity. There is a master of scoffing, that in his catalogue of books of a feigned library, sets down this title of a
book, The Morris-Dance of Heretics. For indeed, every sect of them, hath a diverse posture, or cringe by themselves,
which cannot but move derision in worldlings, and depraved politics, who are apt to contemn holy things.
As for the fruit towards those that are within; it is peace; which containeth infinite blessings. It establisheth faith;
it kindleth charity; the outward peace of the church, distilleth into peace of conscience; and it turneth the labors of
writing, and reading of controversies, into treaties of mortification and devotion.
Concerning the bounds of unity; the true placing of them, importeth exceedingly. There appear to be two
extremes. For to certain zealants, all speech of pacification is odious. Is it peace, Jehu? What hast thou to do with
peace? turn thee behind me. Peace is not the matter, but following, and party. Contrariwise, certain Laodiceans, and
lukewarm persons, think they may accommodate points of religion, by middle way, and taking part of both, and
witty reconcilements; as if they would make an arbitrament between God and man. Both these extremes are to be
avoided; which will be done, if the league of Christians, penned by our Savior himself, were in two cross clauses
thereof, soundly and plainly expounded: He that is not with us, is against us; and again, He that is not against us, is
with us; that is, if the points fundamental and of substance in religion, were truly discerned and distinguished, from
points not merely of faith, but of opinion, order, or good intention. This is a thing may seem to many a matter trivial,
and done already. But if it were done less partially, it would be embraced more generally.
Of this I may give only this advice, according to my small model. Men ought to take heed, of rending God's
church, by two kinds of controversies. The one is, when the matter of the point controverted, is too small and light,
not worth the heat and strife about it, kindled only by contradiction. For, as it is noted, by one of the fathers, Christ's
coat indeed had no seam, but the church's vesture was of divers colors; whereupon he saith, In veste varietas sit,
scissura non sit; they be two things, unity and uniformity. The other is, when the matter of the point controverted, is
great, but it is driven to an over-great subtilty, and obscurity; so that it becometh a thing rather ingenious, than
substantial. A man that is of judgment and understanding, shall sometimes hear ignorant men differ, and know well
within himself, that those which so differ, mean one thing, and yet they themselves would never agree. And if it
come so to pass, in that distance of judgment, which is between man and man, shall we not think that God above,
that knows the heart, doth not discern that frail men, in some of their contradictions, intend the same thing; and
accepteth of both? The nature of such controversies is excellently expressed, by St. Paul, in the warning and precept,
that he giveth concerning the same, Devita profanas vocum novitates, et oppositiones falsi nominis scientiae. Men
create oppositions, which are not; and put them into new terms, so fixed, as whereas the meaning ought to govern
the term, the term in effect governeth the meaning. There be also two false peaces, or unities: the one, when the
peace is grounded, but upon an implicit ignorance; for all colors will agree in the dark: the other, when it is pieced
up, upon a direct admission of contraries, in fundamental points. For truth and falsehood, in such things, are like the
iron and clay, in the toes of Nebuchadnezzar's image; they may cleave, but they will not incorporate.
Concerning the means of procuring unity; men must beware, that in the procuring, or muniting, of religious
unity, they do not dissolve and deface the laws of charity, and of human society. There be two swords amongst
Christians, the spiritual and temporal; and both have their due office and place, in the maintenance of religion. But
we may not take up the third sword, which is Mahomet's sword, or like unto it; that is, to propagate religion by
wars, or by sanguinary persecutions to force consciences; except it be in cases of overt scandal, blasphemy, or
intermixture of practice against the state; much less to nourish seditions; to authorize conspiracies and rebellions; to
put the sword into the people's hands; and the like; tending to the subversion of all government, which is the
ordinance of God. For this is but to dash the first table against the second; and so to consider men as Christians, as
we forget that they are men. Lucretius the poet, when he beheld the act of Agamemnon, that could endure the
sacrificing of his own daughter, exclaimed: Tantum Religio potuit suadere malorum.
What would he have said, if he had known of the massacre in France, or the powder treason of England? He
would have been seven times more Epicure, and atheist, than he was. For as the temporal sword is to be drawn with
great circumspection in cases of religion; so it is a thing monstrous, to put it into the hands of the common people.
Let that be left unto the Anabaptists, and other furies. It was great blasphemy, when the devil said, I will ascend,
and be like the highest; but it is greater blasphemy, to personate God, and bring him in saying, I will descend, and
be like the prince of darkness; and what is it better, to make the cause of religion to descend, to the cruel and
execrable actions of murthering princes, butchery of people, and subversion of states and governments? Surely this
is to bring down the Holy Ghost, instead of the likeness of a dove, in the shape of a vulture or raven; and set, out of
the bark of a Christian church, a flag of a bark of pirates, and assassins. Therefore it is most necessary, that the
church, by doctrine and decree, princes by their sword, and all learnings, both Christian and moral, as by their
Mercury rod, do damn and send to hell for ever, those facts and opinions tending to the support of the same; as hath
been already in good part done. Surely in counsels concerning religion, that counsel of the apostle would be
prefixed, Ira hominis non implet justitiam Dei. And it was a notable observation of a wise father, and no less
ingenuously confessed; that those which held and persuaded pressure of consciences, were commonly interested
therein, themselves, for their own ends.
OF REVENGE
Revenge is a kind of wild justice; which the more man's nature runs to, the more ought law to weed it out. For as
for the first wrong, it doth but offend the law; but the revenge of that wrong, putteth the law out of office. Certainly,
in taking revenge, a man is but even with his enemy; but in passing it over, he is superior; for it is a prince's part to
pardon. And Solomon, I am sure, saith, It is the glory of a man, to pass by an offence. That which is past is gone, and
irrevocable; and wise men have enough to do, with things present and to come; therefore they do but trifle with
themselves, that labor in past matters. There is no man doth a wrong, for the wrong's sake; but thereby to purchase
himself profit, or pleasure, or honor, or the like. Therefore why should I be angry with a man, for loving himself
better than me? And if any man should do wrong, merely out of ill-nature, why, yet it is but like the thorn or briar,
which prick and scratch, because they can do no other. The most tolerable sort of revenge, is for those wrongs which
there is no law to remedy; but then let a man take heed, the revenge be such as there is no law to punish; else a
man's enemy is still before hand, and it is two for one. Some, when they take revenge, are desirous, the party should
know, whence it cometh. This is the more generous. For the delight seemeth to be, not so much in doing the hurt, as
in making the party repent. But base and crafty cowards, are like the arrow that flieth in the dark. Cosmus, duke of
Florence, had a desperate saying against perfidious or neglecting friends, as if those wrongs were unpardonable;
You shall read (saith he) that we are commanded to forgive our enemies; but you never read, that we are
commanded to forgive our friends. But yet the spirit of Job was in a better tune: Shall we (saith he) take good at
God's hands, and not be content to take evil also? And so of friends in a proportion. This is certain, that a man that
studieth revenge, keeps his own wounds green, which otherwise would heal, and do well. Public revenges are for
the most part fortunate; as that for the death of Caesar; for the death of Pertinax; for the death of Henry the Third of
France; and many more. But in private revenges, it is not so. Nay rather, vindictive persons live the life of witches;
who, as they are mischievous, so end they infortunate.
OF ADVERSITY
It was an high speech of Seneca (after the manner of the Stoics), that the good things, which belong to prosperity,
are to be wished; but the good things, that belong to adversity, are to be admired. Bona rerum secundarum
optabilia; adversarum mirabilia. Certainly if miracles be the command over nature, they appear most in adversity. It
is yet a higher speech of his, than the other (much too high for a heathen), It is true greatness, to have in one the
frailty of a man, and the security of a God. Vere magnum habere fragilitatem hominis, securitatem Dei. This would
have done better in poesy, where transcendences are more allowed. And the poets indeed have been busy with it;
for it is in effect the thing, which figured in that strange fiction of the ancient poets, which seemeth not to be without
mystery; nay, and to have some approach to the state of a Christian; that Hercules, when he went to unbind
Prometheus (by whom human nature is represented), sailed the length of the great ocean, in an earthen pot or
pitcher; lively describing Christian resolution, that saileth in the frail bark of the flesh, through the waves of the
world. But to speak in a mean. The virtue of prosperity, is temperance; the virtue of adversity, is fortitude; which in
morals is the more heroical virtue. Prosperity is the blessing of the Old Testament; adversity is the blessing of the
New; which carrieth the greater benediction, and the clearer revelation of God's favor. Yet even in the Old
Testament, if you listen to David's harp, you shall hear as many hearse-like airs as carols; and the pencil of the Holy
Ghost hath labored more in describing the afflictions of Job, than the felicities of Solomon. Prosperity is not without
many fears and distastes; and adversity is not without comforts and hopes. We see in needle-works and
embroideries, it is more pleasing to have a lively work, upon a sad and solemn ground, than to have a dark and
melancholy work, upon a lightsome ground: judge therefore of the pleasure of the heart, by the pleasure of the eye.
Certainly virtue is like precious odors, most fragrant when they are incensed, or crushed: for prosperity doth best
discover vice, but adversity doth best discover virtue.
OF SIMULATION AND DISSIMULATION
Dissimulation is but a faint kind of policy, or wisdom; for it asketh a strong wit, and a strong heart, to know when
to tell truth, and to do it. Therefore it is the weaker sort of politics, that are the great dissemblers.
Tacitus saith, Livia sorted well with the arts of her husband, and dissimulation of her son; attributing arts or
policy to Augustus, and dissimulation to Tiberius. And again, when Mucianus encourageth Vespasian, to take arms
against Vitellius, he saith, We rise not against the piercing judgment of Augustus, nor the extreme caution or
closeness of Tiberius. These properties, of arts or policy, and dissimulation or closeness, are indeed habits and
faculties several, and to be distinguished. For if a man have that penetration of judgment, as he can discern what
things are to be laid open, and what to be secreted, and what to be showed at half lights, and to whom and when
(which indeed are arts of state, and arts of life, as Tacitus well calleth them), to him, a habit of dissimulation is a
hinderance and a poorness. But if a man cannot obtain to that judgment, then it is left to him generally, to be close,
and a dissembler. For where a man cannot choose, or vary in particulars, there it is good to take the safest, and
wariest way, in general; like the going softly, by one that cannot well see. Certainly the ablest men that ever were,
have had all an openness, and frankness, of dealing; and a name of certainty and veracity; but then they were like
horses well managed; for they could tell passing well, when to stop or turn; and at such times, when they thought
the case indeed required dissimulation, if then they used it, it came to pass that the former opinion, spread abroad,
of their good faith and clearness of dealing, made them almost invisible.
There be three degrees of this hiding and veiling of a man's self. The first, closeness, reservation, and secrecy;
when a man leaveth himself without observation, or without hold to be taken, what he is. The second, dissimulation,
in the negative; when a man lets fall signs and arguments, that he is not, that he is. And the third, simulation, in the
affirmative; when a man industriously and expressly feigns and pretends to be, that he is not.
For the first of these, secrecy; it is indeed the virtue of a confessor. And assuredly, the secret man heareth many
confessions. For who will open himself, to a blab or a babbler? But if a man be thought secret, it inviteth discovery;
as the more close air sucketh in the more open; and as in confession, the revealing is not for worldly use, but for the
ease of a man's heart, so secret men come to the knowledge of many things in that kind; while men rather discharge
their minds, than impart their minds. In few words, mysteries are due to secrecy. Besides (to say truth) nakedness is
uncomely, as well in mind as body; and it addeth no small reverence, to men's manners and actions, if they be not
altogether open. As for talkers and futile persons, they are commonly vain and credulous withal. For he that talketh
what he knoweth, will also talk what he knoweth not. Therefore set it down, that an habit of secrecy, is both politic
and moral. And in this part, it is good that a man's face give his tongue leave to speak. For the discovery of a man's
self, by the tracts of his countenance, is a great weakness and betraying; by how much it is many times more
marked, and believed, than a man's words.
For the second, which is dissimulation; it followeth many times upon secrecy, by a necessity; so that he that will
be secret, must be a dissembler in some degree. For men are too cunning, to suffer a man to keep an indifferent
carriage between both, and to be secret, without swaying the balance on either side. They will so beset a man with
questions, and draw him on, and pick it out of him, that, without an absurd silence, he must show an inclination one
way; or if he do not, they will gather as much by his silence, as by his speech. As for equivocations, or oraculous
speeches, they cannot hold out long. So that no man can be secret, except he give himself a little scope of
dissimulation; which is, as it were, but the skirts or train of secrecy.
But for the third degree, which is simulation, and false profession; that I hold more culpable, and less politic;
except it be in great and rare matters. And therefore a general custom of simulation (which is this last degree) is a
vice, rising either of a natural falseness or fearfulness, or of a mind that hath some main faults, which because a man
must needs disguise, it maketh him practise simulation in other things, lest his hand should be out of use.
The great advantages of simulation and dissimulation are three. First, to lay asleep opposition, and to surprise.
For where a man's intentions are published, it is an alarum, to call up all that are against them. The second is, to
reserve to a man's self a fair retreat. For if a man engage himself by a manifest declaration, he must go through or
take a fall. The third is, the better to discover the mind of another. For to him that opens himself, men will hardly
show themselves adverse; but will fair let him go on, and turn their freedom of speech, to freedom of thought. And
therefore it is a good shrewd proverb of the Spaniard, Tell a lie and find a troth. As if there were no way of
discovery, but by simulation. There be also three disadvantages, to set it even. The first, that simulation and
dissimulation commonly carry with them a show of fearfulness, which in any business, doth spoil the feathers, of
round flying up to the mark. The second, that it puzzleth and perplexeth the conceits of many, that perhaps would
otherwise co-operate with him; and makes a man walk almost alone, to his own ends. The third and greatest is, that
it depriveth a man of one of the most principal instruments for action; which is trust and belief. The best composition
and temperature, is to have openness in fame and opinion; secrecy in habit; dissimulation in seasonable use; and a
power to feign, if there be no remedy.
OF PARENTS AND CHILDREN
The joys of parents are secret; and so are their griefs and fears. They cannot utter the one; nor they will not utter the
other. Children sweeten labors; but they make misfortunes more bitter. They increase the cares of life; but they
mitigate the remembrance of death. The perpetuity by generation is common to beasts; but memory, merit, and
noble works, are proper to men. And surely a man shall see the noblest works and foundations have proceeded
from childless men, which have sought to express the images of their minds, where those of their bodies have failed.
So the care of posterity is most in them, that have no posterity. They that are the first raisers of their houses, are
most indulgent towards their children; beholding them as the continuance, not only of their kind, but of their work;
and so both children and creatures.
The difference in affection, of parents towards their several children, is many times unequal; and sometimes
unworthy; especially in the mothers; as Solomon saith, A wise son rejoiceth the father, but an ungracious son shames
the mother. A man shall see, where there is a house full of children, one or two of the eldest respected, and the
youngest made wantons; but in the midst, some that are as it were forgotten, who many times, nevertheless, prove
the best. The illiberality of parents, in allowance towards their children, is an harmful error; makes them base;
acquaints them with shifts; makes them sort with mean company; and makes them surfeit more when they come to
plenty. And therefore the proof is best, when men keep their authority towards the children, but not their purse.
Men have a foolish manner (both parents and schoolmasters and servants) in creating and breeding an emulation
between brothers, during childhood, which many times sorteth to discord when they are men, and disturbeth
families. The Italians make little difference between children, and nephews or near kinsfolks; but so they be of the
lump, they care not though they pass not through their own body. And, to say truth, in nature it is much a like
matter; insomuch that we see a nephew sometimes resembleth an uncle, or a kinsman, more than his own parent; as
the blood happens. Let parents choose betimes, the vocations and courses they mean their children should take; for
then they are most flexible; and let them not too much apply themselves to the disposition of their children, as
thinking they will take best to that, which they have most mind to. It is true, that if the affection or aptness of the
children be extraordinary, then it is good not to cross it; but generally the precept is good, optimum elige, suave et
facile illud faciet consuetudo. Younger brothers are commonly fortunate, but seldom or never where the elder are
disinherited.
OF MARRIAGE AND SINGLE LIFE
He that hath wife and children hath given hostages to fortune; for they are impediments to great enterprises, either
of virtue or mischief. Certainly the best works, and of greatest merit for the public, have proceeded from the
unmarried or childless men; which both in affection and means, have married and endowed the public. Yet it were
great reason that those that have children, should have greatest care of future times; unto which they know they
must transmit their dearest pledges. Some there are, who though they lead a single life, yet their thoughts do end
with themselves, and account future times impertinences. Nay, there are some other, that account wife and children,
but as bills of charges. Nay more, there are some foolish rich covetous men that take a pride, in having no children,
because they may be thought so much the richer. For perhaps they have heard some talk, Such an one is a great rich
man, and another except to it, Yea, but he hath a great charge of children; as if it were an abatement to his riches. But
the most ordinary cause of a single life, is liberty, especially in certain self-pleasing and humorous minds, which are
so sensible of every restraint, as they will go near to think their girdles and garters, to be bonds and shackles.
Unmarried men are best friends, best masters, best servants; but not always best subjects; for they are light to run
away; and almost all fugitives, are of that condition. A single life doth well with churchmen; for charity will hardly
water the ground, where it must first fill a pool. It is indifferent for judges and magistrates; for if they be facile and
corrupt, you shall have a servant, five times worse than a wife. For soldiers, I find the generals commonly in their
hortatives, put men in mind of their wives and children; and I think the despising of marriage amongst the Turks,
maketh the vulgar soldier more base. Certainly wife and children are a kind of discipline of humanity; and single
men, though they may be many times more charitable, because their means are less exhaust, yet, on the other side,
they are more cruel and hardhearted (good to make severe inquisitors), because their tenderness is not so oft called
upon. Grave natures, led by custom, and therefore constant, are commonly loving husbands, as was said of Ulysses,
vetulam suam praetulit immortalitati. Chaste women are often proud and froward, as presuming upon the merit of
their chastity. It is one of the best bonds, both of chastity and obedience, in the wife, if she think her husband wise;
which she will never do, if she find him jealous. Wives are young men's mistresses; companions for middle age; and
old men's nurses. So as a man may have a quarrel to marry, when he will. But yet he was reputed one of the wise
men, that made answer to the question, when a man should marry,- A young man not yet, an elder man not at all. It
is often seen that bad husbands, have very good wives; whether it be, that it raiseth the price of their husband's
kindness, when it comes; or that the wives take a pride in their patience. But this never fails, if the bad husbands
were of their own choosing, against their friends' consent; for then they will be sure to make good their own folly.
THE ESSAYS
by Francis Bacon
From the English Dept. of the Carnegie Mellon University
(http://english-www.hss.cmu.edu/)
A glossary is at the end of this file..
OF TRUTH
What is truth? said jesting Pilate, and would not stay for an answer. Certainly there be, that delight in giddiness, and
count it a bondage to fix a belief; affecting free-will in thinking, as well as in acting. And though the sects of
philosophers of that
kind be gone, yet there remain certain discoursing wits, which are of the same veins, though there be not so much
blood in them, as was in those of the ancients. But it is not only the difficulty and labor, which men take in finding
out of truth, nor again, that when it is found, it imposeth upon men's thoughts, that doth bring lies in favor; but a
natural though corrupt love, of the lie itself. One of the later school of the Grecians, examineth the matter, and is at a
stand, to think what should be in it, that men should love lies; where neither they make for pleasure, as with poets,
nor for advantage, as with the merchant; but for the lie's sake. But I cannot tell; this same truth, is a naked, and open
day-light, that doth not show the masks, and mummeries, and triumphs, of the world, half so stately and daintily as
candle-lights. Truth may perhaps come to the price of a pearl, that showeth best by day; but it will not rise to the
price of a diamond, or carbuncle, that showeth best in varied lights. A mixture of a lie doth ever add pleasure. Doth
any man doubt, that if there were taken out of men's minds, vain opinions, flattering hopes, false valuations,
imaginations as one would, and the like, but it would leave the minds, of a number of men, poor shrunken things,
full of melancholy and indisposition, and unpleasing to themselves?
One of the fathers, in great severity, called poesy vinum doemonum, because it filleth the imagination; and yet,
it is but with the shadow of a lie. But it is not the lie that passeth through the mind, but the lie that sinketh in, and
settleth in it, that doth the hurt; such as we spake of before. But, howsoever these things are thus in men's depraved
judgments, and affections, yet truth, which only doth judge itself, teacheth that the inquiry of truth, which is the
love-making, or wooing of it, the knowledge of truth, which is the presence of it, and the belief of truth, which is the
enjoying of it, is the sovereign good of human nature. The first creature of God, in the works of the days, was the
light of the sense; the last, was the light of reason; and his sabbath work ever since, is the illumination of his Spirit.
First he breathed light, upon the face of the matter or chaos; then he breathed light, into the face of man; and still he
breatheth and inspireth light, into the face of his chosen. The poet, that beautified the sect, that was otherwise
inferior to the rest, saith yet excellently well: It is a pleasure, to stand upon the shore, and to see ships tossed upon
the sea; a pleasure, to stand in the window of a castle, and to see a battle, and the adventures thereof below: but no
pleasure is comparable to the standing upon the vantage ground of truth (a hill not to be commanded, and where the
air is always clear and serene), and to see the errors, and wanderings, and mists, and tempests, in the vale below; so
always that this prospect be with pity, and not with swelling, or pride. Certainly, it is heaven upon earth, to have a
man's mind move in charity, rest in providence, and turn upon the poles of truth.
To pass from theological, and philosophical truth, to the truth of civil business; it will be acknowledged, even by
those that practise it not, that clear, and round dealing, is the honor of man's nature; and that mixture of falsehoods,
is like alloy in coin of gold and silver, which may make the metal work the better, but it embaseth it. For these
winding, and crooked courses, are the goings of the serpent; which goeth basely upon the belly, and not upon the
feet. There is no vice, that doth so cover a man with shame, as to be found false and perfidious. And therefore
Montaigne saith prettily, when he inquired the reason, why the word of the lie should be such a disgrace, and such
an odious charge? Saith he, If it be well weighed, to say that a man lieth, is as much to say, as that he is brave
towards God, and a coward towards men. For a lie faces God, and shrinks from man. Surely the wickedness of
falsehood, and breach of faith, cannot possibly be so highly expressed, as in that it shall be the last peal, to call the
judgments of God upon the generations of men; it being foretold, that when Christ cometh, he shall not find faith
upon the earth.
OF DEATH
Men fear death, as children fear to go in the dark; and as that natural fear in children, is increased with tales, so is
the other. Certainly, the contemplation of death, as the wages of sin, and passage to another world, is holy and
religious; but the fear of it, as a tribute due unto nature, is weak. Yet in religious meditations, there is sometimes
mixture of vanity, and of superstition. You shall read, in some of the friars' books of mortification, that a man should
think with himself, what the pain is, if he have but his finger's end pressed, or tortured, and thereby imagine, what
the pains of death are, when the whole body is corrupted, and dissolved; when many times death passeth, with less
pain than the torture of a limb; for the most vital parts, are not the quickest of sense. And by him that spake only as
a philosopher, and natural man, it was well said, Pompa mortis magis terret, quam mors ipsa. Groans, and
convulsions, and a discolored face, and friends weeping, and blacks, and obsequies, and the like, show death
terrible. It is worthy the observing, that there is no passion in the mind of man, so weak, but it mates, and masters,
the fear of death; and therefore, death is no such terrible enemy, when a man hath so many attendants about him,
that can win the combat of him. Revenge triumphs over death; love slights it; honor aspireth to it; grief flieth to it;
fear preoccupateth it; nay, we read, after Otho the emperor had slain himself, pity (which is the tenderest of
affections) provoked many to die, out of mere compassion to their sovereign, and as the truest sort of followers.
Nay, Seneca adds niceness and satiety: Cogita quamdiu eadem feceris; mori velle, non tantum fortis aut miser, sed
etiam fastidiosus potest. A man would die, though he were neither valiant, nor miserable, only upon a weariness to
do the same thing so oft, over and over. It is no less worthy, to observe, how little alteration in good spirits, the
approaches of death make; for they appear to be the same men, till the last instant. Augustus Caesar died in a
compliment; Livia, conjugii nostri memor, vive et vale. Tiberius in dissimulation; as Tacitus saith of him, Jam
Tiberium vires et corpus, non dissimulatio, deserebant. Vespasian in a jest, sitting upon the stool; Ut puto deus fio.
Galba with a sentence; Feri, si ex re sit populi Romani; holding forth his neck. Septimius Severus in despatch; Adeste
si quid mihi restat agendum. And the like. Certainly the Stoics bestowed too much cost upon death, and by their
great preparations, made it appear more fearful. Better saith he qui finem vitae extremum inter munera ponat
naturae. It is as natural to die, as to be born; and to a little infant, perhaps, the one is as painful, as the other. He that
dies in an earnest pursuit, is like one that is wounded in hot blood; who, for the time, scarce feels the hurt; and
therefore a mind fixed, and bent upon somewhat that is good, doth avert the dolors of death. But, above all, believe
it, the sweetest canticle is, Nunc dimittis; when a man hath obtained worthy ends, and expectations. Death hath this
also; that it openeth the gate to good fame, and extinguisheth envy. -Extinctus amabitur idem.
OF UNITY IN RELIGION
Religion being the chief band of human society, is a happy thing, when itself is well contained within the true band
of unity. The quarrels, and divisions about religion, were evils unknown to the heathen. The reason was, because the
religion of the heathen, consisted rather in rites and ceremonies, than in any constant belief. For you may imagine,
what kind of faith theirs was, when the chief doctors, and fathers of their church, were the poets. But the true God
hath this attribute, that he is a jealous God; and therefore, his worship and religion, will endure no mixture, nor
partner. We shall therefore speak a few words, concerning the unity of the church; what are the fruits thereof; what
the bounds; and what the means.
The fruits of unity (next unto the well pleasing of God, which is all in all) are two: the one, towards those that
are without the church, the other, towards those that are within. For the former; it is certain, that heresies, and
schisms, are of all others the greatest scandals; yea, more than corruption of manners. For as in the natural body, a
wound, or solution of continuity, is worse than a corrupt humor; so in the spiritual. So that nothing, doth so much
keep men out of the church and drive men out of the church, as breach of unity. And therefore, whensoever it
cometh to that pass, that one saith, Ecce in deserto, another saith, Ecce in penetralibus; that is, when some men seek
Christ, in the conventicles of heretics, and others, in an outward face of a church, that voice had need continually to
sound in men's ears, Nolite exire, -Go not out. The doctor of the Gentiles (the propriety of whose vocation, drew him
to have a special care of those without) saith, if an heathen come in, and hear you speak with several tongues, will he
not say that you are mad? And certainly it is little better, when atheists, and profane persons, do hear of so many
discordant, and contrary opinions in religion; it doth avert them from the church, and maketh them, to sit down in
the chair of the scorners. It is but a light thing, to be vouched in so serious a matter, but yet it expresseth well the
deformity. There is a master of scoffing, that in his catalogue of books of a feigned library, sets down this title of a
book, The Morris-Dance of Heretics. For indeed, every sect of them, hath a diverse posture, or cringe by themselves,
which cannot but move derision in worldlings, and depraved politics, who are apt to contemn holy things.
As for the fruit towards those that are within; it is peace; which containeth infinite blessings. It establisheth faith;
it kindleth charity; the outward peace of the church, distilleth into peace of conscience; and it turneth the labors of
writing, and reading of controversies, into treaties of mortification and devotion.
Concerning the bounds of unity; the true placing of them, importeth exceedingly. There appear to be two
extremes. For to certain zealants, all speech of pacification is odious. Is it peace, Jehu? What hast thou to do with
peace? turn thee behind me. Peace is not the matter, but following, and party. Contrariwise, certain Laodiceans, and
lukewarm persons, think they may accommodate points of religion, by middle way, and taking part of both, and
witty reconcilements; as if they would make an arbitrament between God and man. Both these extremes are to be
avoided; which will be done, if the league of Christians, penned by our Savior himself, were in two cross clauses
thereof, soundly and plainly expounded: He that is not with us, is against us; and again, He that is not against us, is
with us; that is, if the points fundamental and of substance in religion, were truly discerned and distinguished, from
points not merely of faith, but of opinion, order, or good intention. This is a thing may seem to many a matter trivial,
and done already. But if it were done less partially, it would be embraced more generally.
Of this I may give only this advice, according to my small model. Men ought to take heed, of rending God's
church, by two kinds of controversies. The one is, when the matter of the point controverted, is too small and light,
not worth the heat and strife about it, kindled only by contradiction. For, as it is noted, by one of the fathers, Christ's
coat indeed had no seam, but the church's vesture was of divers colors; whereupon he saith, In veste varietas sit,
scissura non sit; they be two things, unity and uniformity. The other is, when the matter of the point controverted, is
great, but it is driven to an over-great subtilty, and obscurity; so that it becometh a thing rather ingenious, than
substantial. A man that is of judgment and understanding, shall sometimes hear ignorant men differ, and know well
within himself, that those which so differ, mean one thing, and yet they themselves would never agree. And if it
come so to pass, in that distance of judgment, which is between man and man, shall we not think that God above,
that knows the heart, doth not discern that frail men, in some of their contradictions, intend the same thing; and
accepteth of both? The nature of such controversies is excellently expressed, by St. Paul, in the warning and precept,
that he giveth concerning the same, Devita profanas vocum novitates, et oppositiones falsi nominis scientiae. Men
create oppositions, which are not; and put them into new terms, so fixed, as whereas the meaning ought to govern
the term, the term in effect governeth the meaning. There be also two false peaces, or unities: the one, when the
peace is grounded, but upon an implicit ignorance; for all colors will agree in the dark: the other, when it is pieced
up, upon a direct admission of contraries, in fundamental points. For truth and falsehood, in such things, are like the
iron and clay, in the toes of Nebuchadnezzar's image; they may cleave, but they will not incorporate.
Concerning the means of procuring unity; men must beware, that in the procuring, or muniting, of religious
unity, they do not dissolve and deface the laws of charity, and of human society. There be two swords amongst
Christians, the spiritual and temporal; and both have their due office and place, in the maintenance of religion. But
we may not take up the third sword, which is Mahomet's sword, or like unto it; that is, to propagate religion by
wars, or by sanguinary persecutions to force consciences; except it be in cases of overt scandal, blasphemy, or
intermixture of practice against the state; much less to nourish seditions; to authorize conspiracies and rebellions; to
put the sword into the people's hands; and the like; tending to the subversion of all government, which is the
ordinance of God. For this is but to dash the first table against the second; and so to consider men as Christians, as
we forget that they are men. Lucretius the poet, when he beheld the act of Agamemnon, that could endure the
sacrificing of his own daughter, exclaimed: Tantum Religio potuit suadere malorum.
What would he have said, if he had known of the massacre in France, or the powder treason of England? He
would have been seven times more Epicure, and atheist, than he was. For as the temporal sword is to be drawn with
great circumspection in cases of religion; so it is a thing monstrous, to put it into the hands of the common people.
Let that be left unto the Anabaptists, and other furies. It was great blasphemy, when the devil said, I will ascend,
and be like the highest; but it is greater blasphemy, to personate God, and bring him in saying, I will descend, and
be like the prince of darkness; and what is it better, to make the cause of religion to descend, to the cruel and
execrable actions of murthering princes, butchery of people, and subversion of states and governments? Surely this
is to bring down the Holy Ghost, instead of the likeness of a dove, in the shape of a vulture or raven; and set, out of
the bark of a Christian church, a flag of a bark of pirates, and assassins. Therefore it is most necessary, that the
church, by doctrine and decree, princes by their sword, and all learnings, both Christian and moral, as by their
Mercury rod, do damn and send to hell for ever, those facts and opinions tending to the support of the same; as hath
been already in good part done. Surely in counsels concerning religion, that counsel of the apostle would be
prefixed, Ira hominis non implet justitiam Dei. And it was a notable observation of a wise father, and no less
ingenuously confessed; that those which held and persuaded pressure of consciences, were commonly interested
therein, themselves, for their own ends.
OF REVENGE
Revenge is a kind of wild justice; which the more man's nature runs to, the more ought law to weed it out. For as
for the first wrong, it doth but offend the law; but the revenge of that wrong, putteth the law out of office. Certainly,
in taking revenge, a man is but even with his enemy; but in passing it over, he is superior; for it is a prince's part to
pardon. And Solomon, I am sure, saith, It is the glory of a man, to pass by an offence. That which is past is gone, and
irrevocable; and wise men have enough to do, with things present and to come; therefore they do but trifle with
themselves, that labor in past matters. There is no man doth a wrong, for the wrong's sake; but thereby to purchase
himself profit, or pleasure, or honor, or the like. Therefore why should I be angry with a man, for loving himself
better than me? And if any man should do wrong, merely out of ill-nature, why, yet it is but like the thorn or briar,
which prick and scratch, because they can do no other. The most tolerable sort of revenge, is for those wrongs which
there is no law to remedy; but then let a man take heed, the revenge be such as there is no law to punish; else a
man's enemy is still before hand, and it is two for one. Some, when they take revenge, are desirous, the party should
know, whence it cometh. This is the more generous. For the delight seemeth to be, not so much in doing the hurt, as
in making the party repent. But base and crafty cowards, are like the arrow that flieth in the dark. Cosmus, duke of
Florence, had a desperate saying against perfidious or neglecting friends, as if those wrongs were unpardonable;
You shall read (saith he) that we are commanded to forgive our enemies; but you never read, that we are
commanded to forgive our friends. But yet the spirit of Job was in a better tune: Shall we (saith he) take good at
God's hands, and not be content to take evil also? And so of friends in a proportion. This is certain, that a man that
studieth revenge, keeps his own wounds green, which otherwise would heal, and do well. Public revenges are for
the most part fortunate; as that for the death of Caesar; for the death of Pertinax; for the death of Henry the Third of
France; and many more. But in private revenges, it is not so. Nay rather, vindictive persons live the life of witches;
who, as they are mischievous, so end they infortunate.
OF ADVERSITY
It was an high speech of Seneca (after the manner of the Stoics), that the good things, which belong to prosperity,
are to be wished; but the good things, that belong to adversity, are to be admired. Bona rerum secundarum
optabilia; adversarum mirabilia. Certainly if miracles be the command over nature, they appear most in adversity. It
is yet a higher speech of his, than the other (much too high for a heathen), It is true greatness, to have in one the
frailty of a man, and the security of a God. Vere magnum habere fragilitatem hominis, securitatem Dei. This would
have done better in poesy, where transcendences are more allowed. And the poets indeed have been busy with it;
for it is in effect the thing, which figured in that strange fiction of the ancient poets, which seemeth not to be without
mystery; nay, and to have some approach to the state of a Christian; that Hercules, when he went to unbind
Prometheus (by whom human nature is represented), sailed the length of the great ocean, in an earthen pot or
pitcher; lively describing Christian resolution, that saileth in the frail bark of the flesh, through the waves of the
world. But to speak in a mean. The virtue of prosperity, is temperance; the virtue of adversity, is fortitude; which in
morals is the more heroical virtue. Prosperity is the blessing of the Old Testament; adversity is the blessing of the
New; which carrieth the greater benediction, and the clearer revelation of God's favor. Yet even in the Old
Testament, if you listen to David's harp, you shall hear as many hearse-like airs as carols; and the pencil of the Holy
Ghost hath labored more in describing the afflictions of Job, than the felicities of Solomon. Prosperity is not without
many fears and distastes; and adversity is not without comforts and hopes. We see in needle-works and
embroideries, it is more pleasing to have a lively work, upon a sad and solemn ground, than to have a dark and
melancholy work, upon a lightsome ground: judge therefore of the pleasure of the heart, by the pleasure of the eye.
Certainly virtue is like precious odors, most fragrant when they are incensed, or crushed: for prosperity doth best
discover vice, but adversity doth best discover virtue.
OF SIMULATION AND DISSIMULATION
Dissimulation is but a faint kind of policy, or wisdom; for it asketh a strong wit, and a strong heart, to know when
to tell truth, and to do it. Therefore it is the weaker sort of politics, that are the great dissemblers.
Tacitus saith, Livia sorted well with the arts of her husband, and dissimulation of her son; attributing arts or
policy to Augustus, and dissimulation to Tiberius. And again, when Mucianus encourageth Vespasian, to take arms
against Vitellius, he saith, We rise not against the piercing judgment of Augustus, nor the extreme caution or
closeness of Tiberius. These properties, of arts or policy, and dissimulation or closeness, are indeed habits and
faculties several, and to be distinguished. For if a man have that penetration of judgment, as he can discern what
things are to be laid open, and what to be secreted, and what to be showed at half lights, and to whom and when
(which indeed are arts of state, and arts of life, as Tacitus well calleth them), to him, a habit of dissimulation is a
hinderance and a poorness. But if a man cannot obtain to that judgment, then it is left to him generally, to be close,
and a dissembler. For where a man cannot choose, or vary in particulars, there it is good to take the safest, and
wariest way, in general; like the going softly, by one that cannot well see. Certainly the ablest men that ever were,
have had all an openness, and frankness, of dealing; and a name of certainty and veracity; but then they were like
horses well managed; for they could tell passing well, when to stop or turn; and at such times, when they thought
the case indeed required dissimulation, if then they used it, it came to pass that the former opinion, spread abroad,
of their good faith and clearness of dealing, made them almost invisible.
There be three degrees of this hiding and veiling of a man's self. The first, closeness, reservation, and secrecy;
when a man leaveth himself without observation, or without hold to be taken, what he is. The second, dissimulation,
in the negative; when a man lets fall signs and arguments, that he is not, that he is. And the third, simulation, in the
affirmative; when a man industriously and expressly feigns and pretends to be, that he is not.
For the first of these, secrecy; it is indeed the virtue of a confessor. And assuredly, the secret man heareth many
confessions. For who will open himself, to a blab or a babbler? But if a man be thought secret, it inviteth discovery;
as the more close air sucketh in the more open; and as in confession, the revealing is not for worldly use, but for the
ease of a man's heart, so secret men come to the knowledge of many things in that kind; while men rather discharge
their minds, than impart their minds. In few words, mysteries are due to secrecy. Besides (to say truth) nakedness is
uncomely, as well in mind as body; and it addeth no small reverence, to men's manners and actions, if they be not
altogether open. As for talkers and futile persons, they are commonly vain and credulous withal. For he that talketh
what he knoweth, will also talk what he knoweth not. Therefore set it down, that an habit of secrecy, is both politic
and moral. And in this part, it is good that a man's face give his tongue leave to speak. For the discovery of a man's
self, by the tracts of his countenance, is a great weakness and betraying; by how much it is many times more
marked, and believed, than a man's words.
For the second, which is dissimulation; it followeth many times upon secrecy, by a necessity; so that he that will
be secret, must be a dissembler in some degree. For men are too cunning, to suffer a man to keep an indifferent
carriage between both, and to be secret, without swaying the balance on either side. They will so beset a man with
questions, and draw him on, and pick it out of him, that, without an absurd silence, he must show an inclination one
way; or if he do not, they will gather as much by his silence, as by his speech. As for equivocations, or oraculous
speeches, they cannot hold out long. So that no man can be secret, except he give himself a little scope of
dissimulation; which is, as it were, but the skirts or train of secrecy.
But for the third degree, which is simulation, and false profession; that I hold more culpable, and less politic;
except it be in great and rare matters. And therefore a general custom of simulation (which is this last degree) is a
vice, rising either of a natural falseness or fearfulness, or of a mind that hath some main faults, which because a man
must needs disguise, it maketh him practise simulation in other things, lest his hand should be out of use.
The great advantages of simulation and dissimulation are three. First, to lay asleep opposition, and to surprise.
For where a man's intentions are published, it is an alarum, to call up all that are against them. The second is, to
reserve to a man's self a fair retreat. For if a man engage himself by a manifest declaration, he must go through or
take a fall. The third is, the better to discover the mind of another. For to him that opens himself, men will hardly
show themselves adverse; but will fair let him go on, and turn their freedom of speech, to freedom of thought. And
therefore it is a good shrewd proverb of the Spaniard, Tell a lie and find a troth. As if there were no way of
discovery, but by simulation. There be also three disadvantages, to set it even. The first, that simulation and
dissimulation commonly carry with them a show of fearfulness, which in any business, doth spoil the feathers, of
round flying up to the mark. The second, that it puzzleth and perplexeth the conceits of many, that perhaps would
otherwise co-operate with him; and makes a man walk almost alone, to his own ends. The third and greatest is, that
it depriveth a man of one of the most principal instruments for action; which is trust and belief. The best composition
and temperature, is to have openness in fame and opinion; secrecy in habit; dissimulation in seasonable use; and a
power to feign, if there be no remedy.
OF PARENTS AND CHILDREN
The joys of parents are secret; and so are their griefs and fears. They cannot utter the one; nor they will not utter the
other. Children sweeten labors; but they make misfortunes more bitter. They increase the cares of life; but they
mitigate the remembrance of death. The perpetuity by generation is common to beasts; but memory, merit, and
noble works, are proper to men. And surely a man shall see the noblest works and foundations have proceeded
from childless men, which have sought to express the images of their minds, where those of their bodies have failed.
So the care of posterity is most in them, that have no posterity. They that are the first raisers of their houses, are
most indulgent towards their children; beholding them as the continuance, not only of their kind, but of their work;
and so both children and creatures.
The difference in affection, of parents towards their several children, is many times unequal; and sometimes
unworthy; especially in the mothers; as Solomon saith, A wise son rejoiceth the father, but an ungracious son shames
the mother. A man shall see, where there is a house full of children, one or two of the eldest respected, and the
youngest made wantons; but in the midst, some that are as it were forgotten, who many times, nevertheless, prove
the best. The illiberality of parents, in allowance towards their children, is an harmful error; makes them base;
acquaints them with shifts; makes them sort with mean company; and makes them surfeit more when they come to
plenty. And therefore the proof is best, when men keep their authority towards the children, but not their purse.
Men have a foolish manner (both parents and schoolmasters and servants) in creating and breeding an emulation
between brothers, during childhood, which many times sorteth to discord when they are men, and disturbeth
families. The Italians make little difference between children, and nephews or near kinsfolks; but so they be of the
lump, they care not though they pass not through their own body. And, to say truth, in nature it is much a like
matter; insomuch that we see a nephew sometimes resembleth an uncle, or a kinsman, more than his own parent; as
the blood happens. Let parents choose betimes, the vocations and courses they mean their children should take; for
then they are most flexible; and let them not too much apply themselves to the disposition of their children, as
thinking they will take best to that, which they have most mind to. It is true, that if the affection or aptness of the
children be extraordinary, then it is good not to cross it; but generally the precept is good, optimum elige, suave et
facile illud faciet consuetudo. Younger brothers are commonly fortunate, but seldom or never where the elder are
disinherited.
OF MARRIAGE AND SINGLE LIFE
He that hath wife and children hath given hostages to fortune; for they are impediments to great enterprises, either
of virtue or mischief. Certainly the best works, and of greatest merit for the public, have proceeded from the
unmarried or childless men; which both in affection and means, have married and endowed the public. Yet it were
great reason that those that have children, should have greatest care of future times; unto which they know they
must transmit their dearest pledges. Some there are, who though they lead a single life, yet their thoughts do end
with themselves, and account future times impertinences. Nay, there are some other, that account wife and children,
but as bills of charges. Nay more, there are some foolish rich covetous men that take a pride, in having no children,
because they may be thought so much the richer. For perhaps they have heard some talk, Such an one is a great rich
man, and another except to it, Yea, but he hath a great charge of children; as if it were an abatement to his riches. But
the most ordinary cause of a single life, is liberty, especially in certain self-pleasing and humorous minds, which are
so sensible of every restraint, as they will go near to think their girdles and garters, to be bonds and shackles.
Unmarried men are best friends, best masters, best servants; but not always best subjects; for they are light to run
away; and almost all fugitives, are of that condition. A single life doth well with churchmen; for charity will hardly
water the ground, where it must first fill a pool. It is indifferent for judges and magistrates; for if they be facile and
corrupt, you shall have a servant, five times worse than a wife. For soldiers, I find the generals commonly in their
hortatives, put men in mind of their wives and children; and I think the despising of marriage amongst the Turks,
maketh the vulgar soldier more base. Certainly wife and children are a kind of discipline of humanity; and single
men, though they may be many times more charitable, because their means are less exhaust, yet, on the other side,
they are more cruel and hardhearted (good to make severe inquisitors), because their tenderness is not so oft called
upon. Grave natures, led by custom, and therefore constant, are commonly loving husbands, as was said of Ulysses,
vetulam suam praetulit immortalitati. Chaste women are often proud and froward, as presuming upon the merit of
their chastity. It is one of the best bonds, both of chastity and obedience, in the wife, if she think her husband wise;
which she will never do, if she find him jealous. Wives are young men's mistresses; companions for middle age; and
old men's nurses. So as a man may have a quarrel to marry, when he will. But yet he was reputed one of the wise
men, that made answer to the question, when a man should marry,- A young man not yet, an elder man not at all. It
is often seen that bad husbands, have very good wives; whether it be, that it raiseth the price of their husband's
kindness, when it comes; or that the wives take a pride in their patience. But this never fails, if the bad husbands
were of their own choosing, against their friends' consent; for then they will be sure to make good their own folly.
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