'I can call spirits from the vasty deep.''And so can I, and so can any man;'
Says the new philosopher—
'But will theycome?Will they come—when you do call for them?'
It was simply a command, that this dirty earth should convert itself straight into Elysian lilies, and bloom out, at a word, with roses of Paradise. Excellent patterns, celestial exemplars, of the things required were held up to it; and endless declamation and argument why it should be that, and not the other, were not wanting:—but as to any scientific inquiry into the nature of the thing on which this form was to be superinduced, as to anyscientificexhibition of the form itself which was to be superinduced, these so essential conditions of the proposed result, were in this case alike wanting. The position which these reformers occupy, is one so high, that the question of different kinds of soils, and chemical analyses and experiments, would not come within their range at all; and 'the resplendent or lustrous mass of matter,' of which their sciences are compounded, chosen to give glory either to the subtilty of disputations or to the eloquence of discourses, would not bear any such vulgar admixture. It would make a terrible jar in the rhythm, which those large generalizations naturally flow in, to undertake to introduce into them any such points of detail.
And the new teacher will have a mountain too; but it will be one that 'overlooks the vale,' and he will have a rock-cut-stair to its utmost summit. He is one who will undertake this despised unlustrous matter of which our ordinary human life consists, and make a science of it, building up its generalizations from its particulars, and observing the actual reality,—the thing as it is, freshly, for that purpose; and not omitting any detail,—the poorest. The poets who had undertaken this theme before had been so absorbed with the idea of what man should be, that they could only glance at him as he is: the idea of a science of him, was not of course, to be thought of. There was but one name for the creature, indeed, in their vocabulary and doctrine, and that was one which simply seized and embodied the general fact, the unquestionable historic fact, that he has not been able hitherto to attain to his ideal type in nature, or indeed to make any satisfactory approximation to it.
But when the Committee of Inquiry sits at last, and the business begins to assume a systematic form, even the science of that ideal good, that exemplar and pattern of good, which men have been busy on so long,—thescienceof it,—is put down as 'wanting,' and thescienceof thehusbandry thereunto, 'wholly deficient.'
And the report is, that this new argument, notwithstanding its every-day theme, is one that admits of being sung also; and that the Virgil who is able to compose 'these Georgies of the Mind,' may promise himself fame, though his end is one that will enable him to forego it. Let us see if we can find any further track of him and his great argument, whether in prose or verse;—this poet who cares not whether he has his 'singing robes' about him or not, so he can express and put upon record his new 'observations of this husbandry.'
THE EXEMPLAR OF GOOD.—'And surely,' he continues, 'if the purpose be in good earnest,not to write at leisure that which men may read at leisure'—note it—that which men may read at leisure—'but really toinstructandsuborn action and active life, these GEORGICS of the MIND, concerning the husbandry and tillage thereof, are no less worthy thanthe heroical descriptions of virtue, duty, andfelicity; therefore themain and primitive divisionof MORAL KNOWLEDGE, seemeth to be into the EXEMPLAR or PLATFORM of GOOD, and THE REGIMEN or CULTURE OF THE MIND, the one describing the NATURE of GOOD, the other prescribing RULEShowto SUBDUE, APPLY, and ACCOMMODATE THE WILL OF MAN THEREUNTO.'
As to 'the nature of good, positive or simple,' the writers on this subject have, he says, 'set it down excellently, in describing the forms of virtue and duty, with their situations, and postures, in distributing them into their kinds, parts, provinces, actions, and administrations, and the like: nay, farther, they have commended them to man's nature and spirit, with great quickness of argument, and beauty of persuasions; yea, and fortified and entrenched them,as much as discourse can do, against corrupt and popular opinions. And for the degrees and comparative nature of good, they have excellently handled it also.'—That part deserveth to be reported for 'excellently laboured.'
What is it that is wanting then? What radical, fatal defect is it that he finds even in the doctrine of the NATURE OF GOOD? What is the difficulty with this platform and exemplar of good as he finds it, notwithstanding the praise he has bestowed on it? The difficulty is, that it is not scientific. It is not broad enough. It isspecial, it is limited to the species, but it is not properly, it is not effectively, specific, because it is not connected with the doctrine of nature in general. It does not strike to those universal original principles, those simple powers which determine the actual historic laws and make the nature of things itself. This is the criticism, therefore, with which this critic of the learning of the world as he finds it, is constrained to qualify that commendation.
Notwithstanding, if before they had come tothe popular and received notions of 'vice'and'virtue,' 'pleasure'and'pain,'and the rest, they had stayed a little longer upon the inquiry concerning THE ROOTS of GOOD and EVIL, and the strings to those roots, they had given, in my opinion,a great light to that which followed, and especiallyif they had consulted with nature, they had made their doctrines less prolix and more profound, which being by them in part omitted, and in part handled with much confusion, we will endeavour to resume and open in a more clear manner. Here then, is the preparation of the Platform or Exemplar of Good, the scientific platform of virtue and felicity; going behind the popular notion of vice and virtue, pain and pleasure, and the like, he strikes at once to the nature of good, as it is 'formed in everything,' for the foundation of this specific science. He lays the beams of it, in the axioms and definitions of his 'prima philosophia' 'which do not fall within the compass of the special parts of science, but are more common and of a higher stage, for the distributions and partitions of knowledge arenotlike several lines that meet in one angle, and so touch but in a point, but are likebranches of a tree that meet in a stemwhich hath a dimension and quantity of entireness and continuance before it comes to discontinue and break itself into arms and boughs,' and it is not the narrow and specific observation on which the popular notions are framed, but the scientific, which is needed for the New Ethics,—the new knowledge, which here too, is POWER. He must detect and recognise here also, he must track even into the nature of man, those universal 'footsteps' which are but 'the same footsteps of nature treading or printing in different substances.' 'There is formed ineverythinga double nature of good, the one as everything is a total or substantive in itself, and the other, as it is a part or member of a greater body whereof the latter is indegreethe greater and the worthier, because it tendeth to the conservation of a more general form…. This double nature of good, and the comparison thereof, is much more engraven upon MAN,if he degenerate not, unto whom the conservation of duty to the public oughtto be much more preciousthan the conservation oflife and being;' and, by way of illustration, he mentions first the case of Pompey the Great, 'who being in commission of purveyance for a famine at Rome, and being dissuaded with great vehemency by his friends, that he should not hazard himself to sea in an extremity of weather, he said only to them, "Necesse est ut eam, non ut vivam."' But, he adds, 'it may betrulyaffirmed, that there was never any philosophy, religion, or other discipline, which did so plainly and highlyexaltthe good which iscommunicative, anddepressthe good which is private and particular, as theholy faith, well declaring that it was thesame Godthat gave theChristian law to men, who gave those laws of nature to inanimate creatures that we spake of before; for we read that the elected saints of God have wished themselves anathematised, and razed out of the book of life, in an ecstasy of charity, and infinite feeling of communion.'
And having first made good his assertion, that this being set down, andstrongly planted, determines most of thecontroversieswherein moral philosophy is conversant, he proceeds to develop still further these scientific notions of good and evil, which he has gone below the popular notions and into the nature of things to find, these scientific notions, which, because they are scientific, he has still to go out of the specific nature to define; and when he comes to nail down his scientific platform of thehumangood with them, when he comes to strike their clear and simple lines, deep as the universal constitution of things, through the popular terms, and clear up the old confused theories with them, we find that what he said of them beforehand was true; they do indeed throw great light upon that which follows.
To that exclusive, incommunicative good which inheres in the private and particular nature,—and he does not call it any hard names at all from his scientific platform; indeed in the vocabulary of the Naturalist we are told, that these names are omitted, 'for we call a nettle but a nettle, and the faults of fools their folly,'—that exclusive good he finds both passive and active, and this also is one of those primary distinctions which 'is formed in all things,' and so too is thesubdivisionof passive good which follows. 'For there is impressed uponall thingsa triple desire, or appetite, proceeding fromlove to themselves; one, of preserving and continuing their form; another, ofadvancingand perfecting their form; and a third, of multiplying and extending their form upon other things; whereof the multiplying or signature of it upon other things, is that which we handled by the name of active good.' But passive good includes both conservation and perfection, oradvancement, which latter is the highest degree of passive good. For to preserve in state is the less; to preserve with advancement is the greater. As toman, his approach or assumption to DIVINE or ANGELICAL NATURE is the perfection ofhisform, the error or false imitation of which good is that which is the tempest of human life. So we have heard before; but in the doctrine which we had before, it was the dogma,—the dogma whose inspiration and divinity each soul recognized; to whose utterance each soul responded, as deep calleth unto deep,—it was the Law, the Divine Law, and not thescience of it, that was given.
And having deduced 'that good of man which is private and particular, as far as seemeth fit,' he returns 'to that good of man which respects and beholds society,' which he terms DUTY, because the term of duty is more proper to a mind well framed and disposed towards others, as the term of VIRTUE is applied to a mind well formed and composed in itself; though neither can a man understandvirtue, without some relation to society, norduty, without an inward disposition.
But he wishes us to understand and remember, now that he comes out of the particular nature, and begins to look towards society with this term of Duty, that he is still dealing with 'the will of particular persons,' that it is still the science ofmorals, and notpolitics, that he is meddling with. 'This part may seem at first,' he says, 'to pertain to science civil and politic, but not if it be well observed; for it concerneth the regiment andgovernment of every man over himself, and not over others.' And this is the plan which he has marked out in his doctrine of government as the most hopeful point in which tocommencepolitical reformations; and one cannot but observe, that if this art and science should be successfully cultivated, the one which he dismisses so briefly would be cleared at once of some of those difficulties, which rendered any more direct treatment of it at that time unadvisable. This part of learning concerneth then 'the regiment and government of every man over himself, and not over others.' 'Asin architecturethe directionofthe framingtheposts, beams, andother partsofbuilding, is not the same with the manner of joining them and erecting the building; and in mechanicals, the directionhowtoframeAN INSTRUMENT OR ENGINE is not the same with the manner ofsetting it on work, and employing it;and yet, nevertheless, in expressing of the one, youincidentallyexpress theaptnesstowards the other [hear]sothe doctrine of the conjugation of men in society differeth fromthatoftheir conformity thereunto.' The received doctrine of that conjugation certainly appeared to; and the more this scientific doctrine of the parts, and the conformity thereunto, is incidentally expressed,—the more the scientific directionhow to framethe instrument or engine, is opened, the more this difference becomes apparent.
But even in limiting himself to the individual human nature as it is developed in particular persons, regarding society only as it is incidental to that, even in putting down his new scientific platform of the good that the appetite and will of man naturally seeks, and in marking out scientifically itsdegreesandkinds, he gives us an opportunity to perceive in passing, that he is not altogether without occasion for the use of that particular art, with its peculiar 'organs' and 'methods' and 'illustration,' which he recommends under so many heads in his treatise on that subject, for the delivery or tradition of knowledges, which tend toinnovationandadvancement—knowledge which is 'progressive' and 'foreign from opinions received.'
This doctrine ofdutyis sub-divided into two parts; thecommonduty of every man as a MAN, or A MEMBER of A STATE, which is that part of the platform and exemplar of good, he has before reported as 'extant, and well laboured.' The other is therespectiveorspecialduty of every man in his PROFESSION, VOCATION and PLACE; and it is under this head of thespecialandrespectiveduties of places, vocations and professions, where the subject begins to grow narrow and pointed, where it assumes immediately, the most critical aspects,—it is here that his new arts of delivery and tradition come in to such good purpose, and stand him instead of other weapons. For this is one of those cases precisely, which the philosopher on the Mountain alluded to, where an argument is set on foot at the table of a man of prodigious fortune, when the man himself is present. Nowhere, perhaps,—in his freest forms of writing, does he give a better reason, for that so deliberate and settled determination, which he so openly declares, and everywhere so stedfastly manifests, not to put himself in an antagonistic attitude towards opinions, and vocations, and professions, as they stood authorized in his time. Nowhere does he venture on a more striking comparison or simile, for the purpose of setting forth that point vividly, and impressing it on the imagination of the reader.
'The first of these [sub-divisions of duty] is extant, and well laboured, as hath been said. The second, likewise, I may report rather dispersed than deficient; whichmanner of dispersed argument I acknowledge to be best; [it is one he is much given to;] for who can take upon him to write of the proper duty, virtue,challengeandrightof EVERY several vocation, profession and place? [—truly?—] For although sometimes a looker on, may see more than a gamester, and there be a proverb more arrogant than sound, 'that thevalebest discovereththe hill,' yet there is small doubt, that men can write best, and most really and materially of their own professions,' and it is to be wished, he says, 'as that which would make learning, indeed, solid and fruitful, that active men would, or could, become writers.' And he proceeds to mention opportunely in that connection, a case very much in point, as far as he is concerned, but not on the face of it, so immediately to the purpose, as that which follows. It will, however, perhaps, repay that very careful reading of it, which will be necessary, in order to bring out its pertinence in this connection. And we shall, perhaps, not lose time ourselves, by taking, as we pass, the glimpse which this author sees fit to give us, of the facilities and encouragements which existed then, for the scientific treatment of this so important question of the duties and vices of vocations and professions.
'In which Icannot butmention,honoris causa, your majesty'sexcellent book, touching thedutyof A KING' [and he goes on to give a description which applies, without much 'forcing,' to the work of another king, which he takes occasion to introduce, with a direct commendation, a few pages further on]—'a work richly compounded of divinity, morality, and policy, with greataspersionof all other arts; and being, in mine opinion, one of the most sound and healthful writings that I have read. Not sick of business, as those are who lose themselves in their order, nor of convulsions, as those which cramp in matters impertinent; not savoring of perfumes and paintings as those do, who seek to please the reader more than nature beareth, and chieflywell disposedin thespiritsthereof, beingagreeable to truth, andapt for action;'—[this passage contains some hints as to this author's notion of what a book should be, in form, as well as substance, and, therefore, it would not be strange, if it should apply to some other books, as well]—'and far removed fromthat natural infirmity, whereuntoI noted those that write in their own professions, to besubject, which is that theyexalt it above measure; for your majesty hath truly described,nota king of Assyria or Persia, in theirexternalglory, [and not that kind of king, or kingly author is he talking of] but aMoses, or aDavid, pastors of their people.
'Neither can Iever lose out of my remembrance, what I heard your majesty, in the same sacred spirit of government, deliver in a great cause of judicature, which was, that kings ruled bytheir laws, as God did by the laws of nature, and ought rarely to put in use their supreme prerogative, as God doth his power of working miracles.And yet, notwithstanding, in your book ofa free monarchy, you do well give men to understand, that you know the plenitude of thepowerandrightof a king, as well as _the circle of his office and duty. Thus have I presumed toallegethis excellent writing of your majesty,as a primeoreminent exampleof Tractates, concerningspecialandrespectiveduties.' [It is, indeed, anexemplarthat he talks of here.] 'WhereinI should have said as much, if it had been written a thousand years since: neither am I moved with certain courtly decencies, which I esteem it flattery to praise in presence; no, it is flattery topraise in absence: that is, wheneitherthe virtue is absent,or—the occasionis absent, and so the praise isnot natural, butforced, either in truth,or—in time. But let Cicero be read in his orationpro Marcello, which is nothing but an excellent TABLE ofCaesar'sVIRTUE, andmade to his face; besides theexampleof many other excellent persons,wiser a great deal than such observers, and we will never doubt upon afull occasion, to givejustpraises topresentorabsent.'
The reader who does not think that is, on the whole, a successful paragraph, considering the general slipperiness of the subject, and the state of the ice in those parts of it, in particular where the movements appear to be the most free and graceful; such a one has, probably, failed in applying to it, that key of 'times,' which afull occasionis expected to produce for this kind of delivery. But if any doubt exists in any mind, in regard to this author's opinion of the rights of his own profession and vocation, andthe circleofitsoffice and duties,—if any one really doubts what only allegiance this author professionally acknowledges, and what kingship it is to which this great argument is internally dedicated, it may be well to recall the statement on that subject, which he has taken occasion to insert in another part of the work, so that that point, at least, may be satisfactorily determined.
He is speaking of 'certain base conditions and courses,' in his criticism on the manners of learned men, which he says 'he has no purpose to give allowance to, wherein divers professors of learning have wronged themselves and gone too far,'—glancing in particular at the trencher philosophers of the later age of the Roman state, 'who were little better than parasites in the houses of the great. But above all the rest,' he continues, 'thegrossandpalpable flattery, whereunto, many, not unlearned, have abased and abused their wits and pens, turning, as Du Bartas saith, Hecuba into Helena, and Faustina into Lucretia, hath most diminished the price and estimation of learning. Neither is themodern dedication, of books and writingsas to patrons, to be commended: for that books—such as areworthy the name of books, ought to haveno patrons, but—(hear) but—Truth and Reason. And the ancient custom was to dedicate them only toprivate and equal friends, or toentitlethe books with their names, or if tokingsandgreat persons, it wassome suchas the argument of the book was fit and proper for: but these and the like courses may deserve ratherreprehensionthan defence.
'Not that I can tax,' he continues, however, 'or condemn the application of learned men to men in fortune.' And he proceeds to quote here, approvingly, a series of speeches on this very point, which appear to be full of pertinence; the first of the philosopher who, when he was asked in mockery, 'How it came to pass that philosophers were followers of rich men, and not rich men of philosophers,' answered soberly, and yet sharply, 'Because the one sort knew what they had need of, and the other did not'. And then the speech of Aristippus, who, when some one, tender on behalf of philosophy, reproved him that he would offer the profession of philosophy such an indignity, as for a private suit to fall at a tyrant's feet, replied, 'It was not his fault, but it was the fault of Dionysius, that he had his ears in his feet'; and, lastly, the reply of another, who, yielding his point in disputing with Caesar, claimed, 'That it was reason to yield to him who commanded thirty legions,' and 'these,' he says, 'these, andthe likeapplications, and stooping to points of necessity and convenience, cannot be disallowed; for, though they may havesome outward baseness, yet, in ajudgment truly made, they are to be accounted submissionsto the occasion, andnot to the person.'
And that is justVolumnia'sview of the subject, as will be seen in another place.
Now, this no more dishonors you at all,Than to take in a town with gentle words,Which else would put you to your fortune, andThe hazard of much blood.—And you will rather show our general loutsHow you can frown, than spend afawnupon them,For the inheritance of their loves, andsafeguardOfwhat that want might ruin.
But then, in the dramatic exhibition, the other side comes in too:—
I will not do't;Lest I surcease to honor mine own truth,And by my body's action, teach my mindA most inherent baseness.
It is the same poet who says in another place:—
Almost my nature is subdued to that it works in.
'But to return,' as our author himself says, after his complimentary notice of the king's book, accompanied with that emphatic promise to give an account of himself upon a full occasion, and we have here, apparently, a longer digression to apologize for, and return from; but, in the book we are considering, it is, in fact, rather apparent than real, as are most of the author's digressions, and casual introductions of impertinent matter; for, in fact, the exterior order of the discourse is often a submission to theoccasion, and is not so essential as the author's apparent concern about it would lead us to infer; indeed he has left dispersed directions to have this treatise broken up, and recomposed in a more lively manner, upon a full occasion, and when time shall serve; for, at present, this too is chiefly well disposed in the spirits thereof.
And in marking out the grounds in human life, then lying waste, or covered with superstitious and empirical arts and inventions, in merely showing the fields into which the inventor of this new instrument of observation and inference by rule, was then proposing to introduce it, and in presenting this new report, and this so startling proposition, in those differing aspects and shifting lights, and under those various divisions which the art of delivery and tradition under such circumstances appeared to prescribe; having come, in the order of his report, to that main ground of the good which the will and appetite of man aspires to, and the direction thereto,—this so labored ground of philosophy,—when it was found that the new scientific platform of good, included—not the exclusive good of the individual form only, but that of those 'larger wholes,' of which men areconstitutionallyparts and members, and the special DUTY,—for that is the specific name of this principle of integrity in thehumankind, that is the name of that larger law, that spiritual principle, which informs and claims the parts, and conserves the larger form which is the worthier,—when it was found that this part included the particular duty of every man in hisplace, vocation, andprofession, as well as the common duty of men as men, surely it was natural enough to glance here, at thatparticular profession and vocationof authorship, and the claims of the respectiveplacesofkingandsubjectin that regard, as well as at thedutyof theking, and the superior advantages of a government of laws in general, as being more in accordance with the order of nature, than that other mode of government referred to. It was natural enough, since this subject lies always in abeyance, and is essentially involved in the work throughout, that it should be touched here, in its proper place, though never so casually, with a glance at those nice questions of conflicting claims, which are more fully debated elsewhere, distinguishing that which is forced intime, from that which is forced intruth, and the absence of the person, from the absence of the occasion.
But the approval of that man of prodigious fortune, to whom this work is openly dedicated, is always, with this author, who understands his ground here so well, that he hardly ever fails to indulge himself in passing, with a good humoured, side-long, glance at 'the situation,' this approval is the least part of the achievement. That which he, too, adores in kings, is 'the throng of their adorers'. It is the sovereignty which makes kings, and puts them in its liveries, that he bends to; it is that that he reserves his art for. And this proposal to run the track of the science of nature through this new field of human nature and its higher and highest aims, and into the very field ofevery man'sspecial place, and vocation, and profession, could not well be made without a glance at those difficulties, which the clashing claims of authorship, andother professions, would in this case create; without a glance at the imperious necessities which threaten the life of the new science, which here also imperiously prescribe the form of its TRADITION; he could not go by this place, without putting into the reader's hands, with one bold stroke, the key of its DELIVERY.
For it is in the paragraph which follows the compliment to the king in his character as an author, in pursuing still further this subject of vocations and professions, that we find in the form of 'fable' and 'allusion,'—that form which the author himself lays down in his Art of Tradition, astheform of inculcation for new truth,—the precise position, which is the key to this whole method of new sciences, which makes the method and the interpretation, the vital points, in the writing and the reading of them.
'But, to return, there belongeth farther to the handling of this part, touching theDutiesof Professions and Vocations, a relative, oropposite, touching thefrauds, impostures and vices of every profession, which hath been likewise handled. But how? Rather ina satireandcynically, thanseriouslyandwisely; for men have rather sought bywitto deride and traducemuch of that which is good inPROFESSIONS, thanwith judgment to discover and sever that which is corrupt. For, as Solomon saith, he that cometh to seek after knowledge with a mind to scorn and censure, shall be sure to find matter for his humour, but no matter for his instruction. Butthe managing of this argumentwithintegrityandtruth,which I note as deficient, seemeth to me to beone of the best fortifications for honesty and virtue that can be planted.For, as the fable goeth of thebasilisk, that ifhe see you first, you die for it, but if YOU SEE HIM FIRST—HE DIETH;soit is with deceits andevil arts, which if they be first ESPIEDlose their life, but if theyprevent, endanger.' [If they see you first, you die for it; and not you only, but your science.
Yet were there but this single plot to lose,Thismouldof Marcius, they to dust should grind it,And throw it against the wind.]
'So that we are much beholden' he continues, 'to Machiaveland othersthat writewhat men do, and not what they ought to do, [perhaps he refers here to that writer before quoted, who writes, "othersformmen,—Ireport him"]; for it is not possible,' continues the proposer of the science of special duties ofplace, andvocation, andprofession, 'thecriticof this department, too,—it is not possible to join the serpentine wisdom with the columbine innocency, except men know exactly all the conditions of the serpent,—that is,all formsandnatures of evil, for without this,virtuelieth open and un-fenced. Nay, an honest man can do no good upon those that are wicked, to reclaim them, without the help of the knowledge of evil: for men of corrupted minds pre-suppose that honesty groweth out of simplicity of manners, and believing of preachers, schoolmasters, andmen's exterior language; so as, except you can make them perceive that you know the utmost reaches of their own corrupt opinions, they despise all morality.' A book composed for the express purpose of meeting the difficulty here alluded to, has been already noticed in the preceding pages, on account of its being one of the most striking samples of that peculiar style oftradition, which the advancement of Learning prescribes, and here is another, in which the same invention and discovery appears to be indicated:—'Why I can teach you'—says a somewhat doubtful claimant to supernatural gifts:
'Why, I can teach you, cousin, to commandThe devil.''And I can teachthee, coz, to shame the devil;By telling truth;If thou hast power to raise him, bring him hither,And I'll be sworn I have power to shame him hence:Oh, while you live, TELL TRUTH.'
Butthisis the style, in which the one before referred to, falls in with the humour of this Advancer of Learning. 'As to the rest, I have enjoinedmyselfto dare tosay, all that I dareto do, and eventhoughtsthat are not to be published, displease me. The worst of my actions and qualities do not appear to me so foul, as I find it foul and base not to dare to own them. Every one is wary and discreet inconfession, but men ought to be so inaction. I wish that this excessive license of mine, may draw men to freedomabove these timorous and mincing pretended virtues, sprung from our imperfections, and that at the expense of my immoderation, I may reduce them to reason. A man must see and study his vice to correct it, they who conceal it from others, commonly conceal it from themselves and do not think it covered enough, if they themselves see it…. the diseases of the soul, the greater they are, keep themselves the more obscure; the most sick are the least sensible of them: for these reasons they must often be dragged into light, by an unrelenting and pitiless hand; they must be opened and torn from the caverns and secret recesses of the heart.' 'To meet the Huguenots, who condemn our auricular and private confession, I confess myself in public, religiously and purely,—others have published the errors of theiropinions, I of mymanners. I am greedy of making myself known, and I care not to how many, provided it be truly; or rather, I hunger for nothing, but I mortally hate to bemistakenby those who happen to come acrossmy name.He that doesall things for honor and glory [as some great men in that time were supposed to], what can he think to gain by showing himself to the worldin a mask, and by concealing his true being from the people? Commend a hunchback for his fine shape, he has a right to take it for an affront: if you are a coward, and men commend you for your valor, is it ofyouthat they speak? They take you for another. Archelaus, king of Macedon, walking along the street, somebody threw water on his head; which they who were with him said he ought to punish, "Ay, but," said the other, "he did not throw the water uponme, but uponhimwhom he took me to be." Socrates being told that people spoke ill of him, "Not at all," said he, "there is nothing in me of what they say!"I am content to be less commended provided I am better known. I may be reputed a wise man, in such a sort of wisdom as I take to be folly.' Truly the Advancement of Learning would seem to be not all in the hands of one person in this time. It appears, indeed, to have been in the hands of some persons who were not content with simply propounding it, and noting deficiencies, but who busied themselves with actively carrying out, the precise plan propounded. Here is one who does not content himself with merely criticising 'professionsandvocations' and suggesting improvements, but one who appears to have an inward call himself to the cure of diseases. Whoever he may be, and since he seems to care so very little for his name himself, and looks at it from such a philosophical point of view, we ought not, perhaps, to be too particular about it; whoever he may be, he is unquestionably a Doctor of the New School, the scientific school, and will be able to produce his diploma when properly challenged; whoever he may be, he belongs to 'the Globe' for the manager of that theatre is incessantly quoting him, and dramatizing his philosophy, and he says himself, 'I look on all men as my compatriots, and prefer theuniversal and common tie to the national.'
But in marking out and indicating the plan and method of the new operation, which has for its end to substitute a scientific, in the place of an empirical procedure, in the main pursuits of human life, the philosopher does not limit himself in this survey of the special social duties to the special duties of professions and vocations. 'Unto this part,' he says, 'touchingrespectiveduty, doth also appertain the duties between husband and wife, parent and child, master and servant: so likewise the laws offriendshipandgratitude, the civil bond ofcompanies, colleges, andpolitic bodies, ofneighbourhood, and all other proportionate duties;notas they are parts of a government and society,but as to the framing of the mind of particular persons.'
The reader will observe, that that portion of moral philosophy which is here indicated, contains, according to this index, some extremely important points, points which require learned treatment; and in our further pursuit of this inquiry, we shall find, that the new light which the science of nature in general throws upon the doctrine of the special duties and upon these points here emphasized, has been most ably and elaborately exhibited by a contemporary of this philosopher, and in the form which he has so specially recommended,—with all that rhetorical power which he conceives to be the natural and fitting accompaniment of this part of learning. And the same is true also throughout of that which follows.
'The knowledge concerning good respecting society, doth handle it also not simply alone, butcomparatively, whereunto belongeth the weighing of dutiesbetween person and person, case and case, particular and public: as we see in the proceeding of Lucius Brutus against his own sons, which was so much extolled, yet what was said?
Infelix utcunque ferent ea fata minores.
'So the case was doubtful, and had opinion on both sides. [So the philosopher on the mountain tells us, too, for his common-place book and this author's happen to be the same.] Again we see when M. Brutus and Cassiusinvited to a suppercertainwhose opinions they meant to feel, whether they were fit to be made their associates, and cast forth the question touching the killing of a tyrant,—being an usurper,—they were divided in opinion;' [this of itself is a very good specimen of the style in which points are sometimes introduced casually in passing, and by way of illustration merely] some holding thatservitudewas theextremeof evils, andothersthat tyranny wasbetter than a civil war; and this question also our philosopher of the mountain has considered very carefully from his retreat, weighing all theprosandconsof it. And it is a question which was treated also, as we all happen to know, in that other form of writing for which this author expresses so decided a preference, in which the art of the poet is brought in to enforce and impress the conclusion of the philosopher. Indeed, as we proceed further with the plan of this so radical part of the subject, we shall find, that the ground indicated has everywhere been taken up on the spot by somebody, and to purpose.
'Tis an unweeded gardenThat grows to seed—'
Hamlet.
But we have finished now with what he has to say here of the EXEMPLAR or science of GOOD, and itskinds, anddegrees, and the comparison of them, the good that is proper to the individual, and the good that includes society. He has found much fine work on that platform of virtue, and felicity,—excellent exemplars, the purest doctrine, the loftiest virtue, tried by the scientific standard. And though he has gone behind those popular names of vice and virtue, pain and pleasure, and the like, in which these doctrinesbegin, to the more simple and original forms, which the doctrine of nature in general and its laws supplies, for a platform of moral science, his doctrine is large enough to include all these works, in all their excellence, and give them their true place. A reviewer so discriminating, then, so far from that disposition to scorn and censure, which he reprehends, so careful to conserve that which is good in his scientific constructions and reformations, so pure in judgment in discovering and severing that which is corrupt, a reporter so clearly scientific, who is able to maintain through all this astounding report of the deficiences in human learning, a tone so quiet, so undemonstrative, such a one deserves the more attention when he comes now to 'the art and practic part' of this great science, to which all other sciences are subordinate, and declares to us that he finds it, as a part of science, 'WANTING!' not defective, butwanting.
'Now, therefore, that we have spoken of this FRUIT of LIFE, it remaineth to speak of the HUSBANDRY that belongeth thereunto, without which part the former seemeth to be no better than a fair image or statue, which is beautiful to contemplate, but is without life and motion.'
But as this author is very far, as he confesses, from wishing to clothe himself with the honors of an Innovator,—such honors as awaited the Innovator in that time,—but prefers always to sustain himself with authority from the past, though at the expense of that lustre of novelty and originality, which goes far, as he acknowledges, in establishing new opinions,—adopting in this precisely the practices, and, generally, to save trouble, the quotations of that other philosopher, so largely quoted here, who frankly gives his reasons forhisprocedure, confessing that he pinches his authors a little, now and then, to make them speak to the purpose; and that he reads them with his pencil in his hand, for the sake of being able to produce respectable authority, grown gray in trust, with the moss of centuries on it, for the views which he has to set forth; culling bits as he wants them, and putting them together in his mosaics as he finds occasion; so now, when we come to this so important part of the subject, where the want is so clearly reported—where the scientific innovation is so unmistakeably propounded—we find ourselves suddenly involved in a storm of Latin quotations, all tending to prove that the thing was perfectly understood among the ancients, and that it is as much as a man's scholarship is worth to call it in question. The author marches up to the point under cover of a perfect cannonade of classics, no less than five of the most imposing of the Greek and Latin authors being brought out, for the benefit of the stunned and bewildered reader, in the course of one brief paragraph, the whole concluding with a reference to the Psalms, which nobody, of course, will undertake to call in question; whereas, in cases of ordinary difficulty, a proverb or two from Solomon is thought sufficient.
For this last writer, with his practical inspiration—with his aphorisms, or 'dispersed directions,' which the author prefers to a methodical discourse, as they best point to action—with his perpetual application of divinity to matters of common life, and to the special and respective duties, this, of all the sacred writers, is the one which he has most frequent occasion to refer to; and when, in his chapter on Policy, he brings out openly his proposal to invade the every-day practical life of men, in its apparently most unaxiomatical department, with his scientific rule of procedure—a proposal which he might not have been 'so prosperously delivered of,' if it had been made in any less considerate manner—he stops to produce whole pages of solid text from this so unquestionably conservative authority, by way of clearing himself from any suspicion of innovation.
First, then, in setting forth this so novel opinion of his, that the doctrine of the FRUIT of LIFE should include not the scientific platform of good, and its degrees and kinds only,—not the doctrine of the ideal excellence and felicity only, but the doctrine—the scientific doctrine—the scientific art of the Husbandry thereunto;—in setting forth the opinion, that that firstpartof moral science isbut a part of it, and that as human nature is constituted, it is not enough to have a doctrine of good in its perfection, and the divinest exemplars of it; first of all he produces the subscription of no less a person than Aristotle, whose conservative faculties had proved so effectual in the dark ages, that the opinion of Solomon himself could hardly have been considered more to the purpose. 'In such full words,' he says; and seeing that the advancement of Learning has already taken us on to a place where the opinions of Aristotle, at least, are not so binding, we need not trouble ourselves with that long quotation now—'in such fullwords, and with suchiteration, doth he inculcate this part, so saithCiceroin great commendation ofCatothe second, that he had applied himself to philosophy—"Non ita disputandi causa, sed ita vivendi." And although the neglect of our times, wherein few men do hold any consultations touchingthe reformation of theirLIFE, asSenecaexcellently saith, "De partibus vitae, quisque deliberat, de summa nemo," may make this part seem superfluous, yet I must conclude with that aphorism ofHippocrates, "Qui gravi morbo correpti dolores non sentiunt, iis mens aegrotat"; they need medicines not only to assuage the disease, butto awake the sense.
'And if it be saidthat the cure of men's minds belongeth to sacred divinity, it is most true; butyetMoral Philosophy'—that is, inhismeaning of the term, MoralScience, the new science of nature—'may bepreferred unto her, as a wise servantand humble handmaid. For, asthe Psalm saith, that "the eye of the handmaid looketh perpetually towards the mistress," and yet,no doubt, many things are left to the discretion of the handmaid, to discern of themistress's will; so ought moral philosophy to givea constant attention to the doctrines of divinity, and yet so as it may yield of herself, within due limits, many sound and profitable directions.'Thatis the doctrine.Thatis the position of the New Science in relation to divinity, as defined by the one who was best qualified to place it—that is the mission of the New Science, as announced by the new Interpreter of Nature,—the priest of her ignored and violated laws,—on whose work the seal of that testimony which he challenged to it has already been set—on whose work it has already been written, in the large handwriting of that Providence Divine, whose benediction he invoked, 'accepted'—accepted in the councils from which the effects of life proceed.
'This part, therefore,' having thus defined his position, he continues, 'because of theexcellency thereof, I cannot but find it EXCEEDING STRANGE that it is not reducedto written inquiry; the rather because it consisteth of much matter, whereinboth speech and action is often conversant, and such wherein the common talk of men,which is rare, but yet cometh sometimes to pass, iswiser than their books. It is reasonable, therefore, that we propound it with the more particularity, both for the worthiness, andbecause we may acquit ourselves for reporting it deficient' [with such 'iteration and fulness,' with all hisdiscrimination, does he contrive to makethispoint]; 'which seemethalmost incredible, and is otherwise conceived—[note it]—and is otherwise conceived andpresupposedby those themselves that have written.' [They do not see that they have missed it.] 'We will, therefore, enumerate some HEADS or POINTSthereof, that it may appear the better what it is, and __whether it be extant_.'
A momentous question, truly, for the human race. That was a point, indeed, for this reporter to dare to make, and insist on and demonstrate. Doctrines of THE FRUIT of LIFE—doctrines of its perfection, exemplars of it; but no science—no science of the Culture or the Husbandry thereunto—though it is otherwise conceived and presupposed by those who have written! Yes, that is the position; and not taken in the general only, for he will proceed to propound it with more particularity—he will give us the HEADS of it—he will proceed to the articulation of that which is wanting—he will put down, before our eyes, the points and outlines of the new human science, the science of the husbandry thereto, both for the worthiness thereof, and that it may appear the better WHAT IT IS, and whether—WHETHER IT BE EXTANT. For who knows but it may be? Who knows, after all, but the points and outlines here, may prove but the track of that argument which the new Georgics will be able to hide in the play of their illustration, as Periander hid his? Who knows but the Naturalist in this field was then already on the ground, making his collections? Who knows but this new Virgil, who thought little of that resplendent and lustrous mass of matter, that old poets had taken for their glory, who seized the common life of men, and not the ideal life only, for his theme—who made the relief of the human estate, and not glory, his end, but knew that he might promise himself a fame which would make the old heroic poets' crowns grow dim,—who knows but thathe—he himself—is extant, contemplating his theme, and composing its Index—claiming as yet its INDEX only? Truly, if the propounder of this argument can in any measure supply thedefectswhich he outlines, and opens here,—if he can point out to us any new and worthy collections in that science for which he claims to break the ground—if he can, in any measure, constitute it, he will deserve that name which he aspired to, and for which he was willing to renounce his own, 'Benefactor of men,' and not of an age or nation.
But let us see where this new science, and scientific art of human culture begins,—this science and art which is to differ from those which have preceded it, as the other Baconian arts and sciences which began in the new doctrine of nature, differed from those which preceded them.
'FIRST, therefore, in this,as in all things which are practical, we ought to cast up our account, WHAT is IN OUR POWER, AND WHAT NOT? FOR the one may be dealt with by way of ALTERATION, but the other by way of APPLICATIONonly. The husbandman cannot command either thenature of the earth or the seasonsof the weather, no more can the physicianthe constitution of the patient, and thevariety of accidents.So in the CULTURE and CURE of THE MIND of MANtwo thingsare without our command, POINTS OF NATURE, and POINTS of FORTUNE: for to the basis of the one, and the conditions of the other, our work is limited and tied.' That is the first step: that is where the NEW begins. There is no science or art till that step is taken.
'In these things, therefore, it is left unto us to proceed by APPLICATION. Vincenda est omnis fortuna ferendo: and so likewise—Vincenda est omnis natura ferendo. But when we speak of suffering, we do not speak of adull neglected suffering, but ofa wise and industrious suffering, which draweth and contrivethuse and advantage out of that which seemeth adverse and contrary, which is that properly which we callaccommodatingorapplying. ["Sweet are the uses of it," and "blest" indeed are they who can translate thestubbornnessof fortune into so quiet and so sweet a style.]
'Now the wisdom of APPLICATION restethprincipallyin theexact and distinct knowledge of the precedent state or disposition, unto which we do apply.'—[This is the process which the Novum Organum sets forth with so much care], 'for we cannot fit a garment, except we first take the measure of the body.'
So then THE FIRST ARTICLE OF THIS KNOWLEDGE is—what?—'to set downsoundandtrue distributionsanddescriptionsof THE SEVERAL CHARACTERS AND TEMPERS of MEN'S NATURES and DISPOSITIONS, specially having regard tothose differenceswhich are mostradical, in being the fountains and causes of the rest,ormost frequent inconcurrenceor commixture (notsimpledifferences merely, but the most frequent conjunctions), wherein it is not the handling of a few of them, in passage, the better to describe themediocritiesofvirtues, that can satisfy this intention'; and he proceeds to introduce a few points, casually, as it were, and by way of illustration, but the rule of interpretation for this digest of learning, in this press of method is, that such points arenevercasual, and usually of primal, and not secondary import; 'for if it deserve to be considered that thereareminds which are proportioned to great matters, andothersto small, which Aristotle handleth, or ought to have handled, by the name ofmagnanimity, doth it not deserve as well to be considered, that there are minds proportioned to intend many matters, andothers to few?' So that some candivide themselves, others can perchance do exactly well, but it must be in few things at once; and so there cometh to be a narrowness of mind,as well as aPUSILLANIMITY. And again, 'that some minds are proportioned to that which may be despatched at once, or within ashort return of time; others to thatwhich begins afar off, and is to be won with length of pursuit.
Jam tum tenditque fovetque.
'So that there may be fitly said to be alonganimity, which is commonly also ascribed to God as amagnanimity.' Undoubtedly, he considers this one of those differences in the natures and dispositions of men, that it is most important to note, otherwise it would not be inserted here. 'So farther deserved it to be considered by Aristotle that there is a disposition in conversation, supposing it in things which do in no sort touch or concern a man's self,to soothe and please; and a disposition contrary to contradict and cross; and deserveth it not much better to be considered that there is a disposition, not in conversation, or talk, butin matter of more serious nature, and supposing it still in thingsmerely indifferent, to take pleasure in the good of another, and a disposition contrariwise to take distaste at the good of another, which is thatproperlywhich we callgood-nature, orill-nature, benignity or malignity.' Is not this a field for science, then, with such differences as these lying on the surface of it,—does not it begin to open up with a somewhat inviting aspect? This so remarkable product of nature, with such extraordinary 'differences' in him as these, is he the only thing that is to go without a scientific history, all wild and unbooked, while our philosophers are weeping because 'there are no more worlds to conquer,' because every stone and shell and flower and bird and insect and animal has been dragged into the day and had its portrait taken, and all its history to its secretest points scientifically detected?
'And therefore,' says this organizer of the science of nature, who keeps an eye on practice, inhisspeculations, and recommends to his followers to observe his lead in that respect, at least, until the affairs of the world get a little straighter than they were in his time, and there is leisure formerespeculation,—'And, therefore,' he resumes, having noted these remarkable differences in the natural and original dispositions of men,—and certainly there is no more curious thing in science than the points noted, though the careful reader will observe that they are not curious merely, but that they slant in one direction very much, and towards a certain kind of practice. 'And, therefore,' he resumes, noticing that fact, 'Icannot sufficiently marvel, that this part of knowledge, touching theseveral charactersofnaturesanddispositionsshould be omittedbothin MORALITY and POLICY, considering that it is ofso greatministry and suppeditation to them BOTH.' ['Theseveral characters.' The range of difference is limited. They are comprehensible within a science, as the differences in other species are. No wonder, then, 'that he cannot sufficiently marvel that this part of knowledge should be omitted.'] But in neither of these two departments, which he here marks out, as the ultimate field of the naturalist, and his arts, in neither of them unfortunately, lies the practice of mankind, as yet so wholly recovered from that 'lameness,' which this critical observer remarked in it in his own time, that these observations have ceased to have a practical interest.
And having thus ventured to express his surprise at this deficiency, he proceeds to note what only indications he observes of any work at all in this field, and the very quarters he goes to for these little accidental hints and beginnings of such a science, show how utterly it was wanting in those grandiloquent schools of philosophic theory, and those magisterial chairs of direction, which the author found in possession of this department in his time.
'A man shall find in the traditions of ASTROLOGY, some pretty and aptdivisions of men's natures,'—so in the discussions which occur on this same point in Lear, where this part of philosophy comes under a more particular consideration, and the great ministry which it would yield to morality and policy is suggested in a different form, this same reference to the astrological observations repeatedly occurs. The Poet, indeed, discards the astrological _theory _of these natural differences in the dispositions of men, but is evidently in favour of an observation, and inquiry of some sort, into the second causes of these 'sequent effects,' and an anatomy of the living subject is in one case suggested, by a person who is suffering much from the deficiencies of science in this field, as a means of throwing light on it. 'Then let Regan be anatomised.' For in thePlay,—in the poetic impersonation, which has a scientific purpose for its object, the historical extremes of these natural differences are touched, and brought into the most vivid dramatic oppositions; so as to force from the lips of the by-standers the very inquiries and suggestions which are put down here; so as to wring from the broken hearts of men—tortured and broken on the wheel, which 'blind men' call fortune,—tortured and broken on the rack of an unlearned and barbaric human society,—or, from hearts that do not break with anything that such a world can do, the imperious direction of the new science.
'Then let Regan be anatomised, andseewhat it is that breeds about her heart.' He has asked already, 'What is the cause of thunder?' But 'hisphilosopher' must not stop there. 'Is there anycause—is there any causein naturethat makes these hard hearts?'—
It isthe stars!The stars above us govern our conditions,Else one self mate and mate could not begetSuch different issues.
'A man shall find in the traditions of astrology some pretty and aptdivisions of men's natures,' ('let them beanatomised,' he, too, says,) 'according to thepredominanceof theplanets;' (this is the 'spherical predominance,' whichEdmunddoes not believe in)—'loversof quiet,loversof action,loversof victory,loversof honour,loversof pleasure,loversof arts,loversofchange, and so forth.' And here, also, is another very singular quarter to go to for a science which is so radical in morality; here is a place, where men have empirically hit upon the fact that it has some relation to policy. 'A man shall find in the wisest sorts of these relations which theItaliansmake touching conclaves, the natures of the severalCardinals, handsomely and livelily painted forth';—and what he has already said in the general, of this department, he repeats here under this division of it, that the conversation of men in respect to it, is in advance of their books;—'a man shall meet with, in every day's conference, the denominations of sensitive, dry, formal, real, humorous, "huomo di prima impressione, huomo di ultima impressione, and the like": but this is no substitute for science in a matter so radical,'—'and yet, nevertheless,this observation, wandereth in words, but is notfixed in inquiry. For thedistinctionsare found, many of them, but we concludeno preceptsupon them'; it is induction then that we want here, after all—herealso—here as elsewhere: 'the distinctions are found, many of them, but weconclude no preceptsupon them: wherein our fault is the greater, because both HISTORY, POESY, and DAILY EXPERIENCE,are as goodly fields where these observations grow; whereof we make a few poesies to hold in our hands, but no man bringeth them to the confectionery thatreceiptsmight be made of them for the use of life.'
How could he saythat, when there was a man then alive, who was doing in all respects, the very thing which he puts down here, as the thing which is to be done, the thing which is of such radical consequence, which is the beginning of the new philosophy, which is the beginning of the newreformation; who is making this very point in that science to which the others are subordinate?—how could he say it, when there was a man then alive, who was ransacking the daily lives of men, and putting all history and poesy under contribution for these very observations, one, too, who was concluding precepts upon them, bringing them to the confectionery, and composing receipts of them for the use of life; a scholar who did not content himself with merelyreportinga deficiency so radical as this, in the human life; a man who did not think, apparently, that he had fulfilledhisduty to his kind, by composing a paragraph on this subject.
And how comes it—how comes it that he who is the first to discover this so fatal and radical defect in the human science, has himself failed to put upon record any of these so vital observations? How comes it that the one who is at last able to put his finger on the spot where the mischief, where all the boundless mischief, is at work here,—where the cure must begin, should content himself with observations and collections in physical historyonly? How comes it that the man who finds that all the old philosophy has failed to become operative for the lack of this historical basis, who finds it so 'exceeding strange, soincredible,' who 'cannot sufficiently marvel,' that these observations should have been omitted in this science, heretofore,—the man who is so sharp upon Aristotle and others, on account of this incomprehensible oversight in their ethics,—is himself guilty of this very thing? And how will this defect inhiswork, compare with that same defect which he is at so much pains to note and describe in the works of others—others who did not know the value of this history? And how can he answer it to his kind, that with the views he has dared to put on record here, of the relation, theessentialrelation, of this knowledge to human advancement and relief,he himself has done nothing at all to constitute it, except to write this paragraph.
And yet, by his own showing, the discoverer of this field was himself the man to make collections in it; for he tells us that accidental observations are not the kind that are wanted here, and that the truth of direction must precede the severity of observation. Is this so? Whose note book is it then, that has come into our hands, with the rules and plummet of the new science running through it, where all the observation takes, spontaneously, the direction of this new doctrine of nature, and brings home all its collections, in all the lustre of their originality, in all their multiplicity, and variety, and comprehension, in all the novelty and scientific rigour of their exactness, into the channels of thesedefectsof learning? And who was he, who thought there were more things in heaven and earth, than were dreamt of in old philosophies, who kept his tables always by him for open questions? and whose tablets—whose many-leaved tablets, are they then, that are tumbled out upon us here, glowing with 'all saws, all forms, all pressures past, that youth and observation copied there.' And if aphorisms are made out of the pith and heart of sciences, if 'no man can write good aphorisms who is not sound and grounded,' what Wittenberg, what University was he bred in?
Till now there has been no man to claim this new and magnificent collection in natural science: it is a legacy that came to us without a donor;—this new and vast collection in natural history, which is put down here, all along, asthat which is wanting—as that which is wanting to the science of man, to the science of his advancement to his place in nature, and to the perfection of his form,—as that which is wanting to the science of the larger wholes, and the art of their conservation. There was nomanto claim it, for theboast, the very boast made on behalf of the thing for whom it was claimed—was— hedid not know it was worth preserving!—hedid not knowthat this mass of new and profoundly scientific observation—this so new and subtle observation, so artistically digested, with all the precepts concluded on it, strewn, crowded everywhere with those aphorisms, those axioms of practice, that are made out of the pith and heart of sciences—he did not know it was of any value! That is his history. That is the sum of it, and surely it is enough. Who, that is himself at all above the condition of an oyster, will undertake to say, deliberately and upon reflection, that it is not? So long as we have that one fact in our possession, it is absurd, it is simply disgraceful, to complain of any deficiency in this person's biography. There is enough of it and to spare. With that fact in our possession, we ought to have been able to dispense long ago with some, at least, of those details that we have of it. The only fault to be found with the biography of this individual as it stands at present is, that there is too much of it, and the public mind is labouring under a plethora of information.
If that fact be not enough, it is our own fault and not the author's. He was perfectly willing to lie by, till it was. He would not take the trouble to come out for a time that had not studied his philosophy enough to find it, and to put the books of it together.
Many years afterwards, the author of this work on the Advancement of Learning, saw occasion to recast it, and put it in another language. But though he has had so long a time to think about it, and though he does not appear to have taken a single step in the interval, towards the supplying of this radical deficiency in human science; we do not find that his views of its importance are at all altered. It is still the first point with him in the scientific culture of human nature,—the first point in that Art of Human Life, which is the end and term ofNatural Philosophy, asheunderstands the limits of it. We still find the first Article of the Culture of the Mind put down, 'THE DIFFERENT NATURES OR DISPOSITIONS OF MEN,'not the vulgar propensitiesto VIRTUES and VICES—note it—'or perturbations and passions, but of such as aremore internal and radical, which are generally neglected.' 'This is a study,' he says, which 'might afford GREAT LIGHT TO THE SCIENCES.' And again he refers us to the existing supply, such as it is, and repeats with some amplification, his previous suggestions. 'In astrological traditions, the natures and dispositions of men, are tolerablydistinguishedaccording to the influence of the planets, wheresomeare said to be by nature formed forcontemplation, othersforwar, others forpolitics.' Apparently itwouldbe 'great ministry to policy,' if one could get the occult sources of such differences as these, so as to be able to command them at all, in the culture of men,orin the fitting of men to their places. 'But' he proceeds, 'so likewise among thepoetsof all kinds, weeverywhere findcharacters of nature, thoughcommonlydrawn with excess andexceeding the limits of nature.'
Here, too, the philosopher refers us again to the common discourse of men, as containing wiser observations on this subject, than their books. 'But much the best matter of all,' he says, 'for such a treatise, may bederived fromthe moreprudenthistorians, and not so well from eulogies or panegyrics, which are usually written soon after the death ofan illustrious person, but much rather from a whole body of history, as often as such a person appears, for such aninwovenaccount gives a better description thanpanegyrics…. But we do not mean that such characters should be received in ethics, as perfect civil images.' They are to be subjected to an artistic process, which will bring out the radical principles in the dispositions and tempers of men in general, as the material of inexhaustible varieties of combination. He will have these historic portraits merely 'for outlines and first draughts of the images themselves, which, being variously compounded and mixed, afford all kinds of portraits, so that anartificial and accurate dissectionmay be made of MEN'S MINDS AND NATURES, and thesecret disposition of each particular man laid open, that from the knowledge of thewhole, the PRECEPTSconcerning theERRORS of THE MIND may be MORE RIGHTLY FORMED.' Who did that very thing? Who was it that stood on the spot and put that design into execution?
But this is not all; this is only the beginning of the observation and study ofdifferences. For he would have also included in it, 'those impressions of nature which are otherwiseimposedupon by the mind, by the SEX, AGE, COUNTRY, STATE OF HEALTH, MAKE OF BODY, as of beauty and deformity, and THE LIKE, which are inherent and not external:' and more, he will have included in it—in thesepractical Ethicshe will have included—'POINTS OF FORTUNE,' and the differences that they make; he will haveall the differencesthat this creature exhibits, under any conditions, put down; he will have his whole nature, so far as his history is able to show it, on his table; and not as it is exhibited accidentally, or spontaneously merely, but under the test of a studious inquiry, and essay; he will apply to it the trials and vexations of Art, and wring out its last confession. This is the practical doctrine of this species; this is what the author we have here in hand, calls thescienceof it, or the beginning of its science. This is one of theparts of sciencewhich he says is wanting. Let us follow his running glimpse of the points here, then, and see whether it is extant here, too, and whether there is anything to justify all this preparation in bringing it in, and all this exceeding marvelling at the want of it.
'And againthose differenceswhich proceed from FORTUNE, as SOVEREIGNTY, NOBILITY, OBSCURE BIRTH, RICHES, WANT, MAGISTRACY, PRIVATENESS, PROSPERITY, ADVERSITY, constant fortune, variable fortune, risingper saltum, per gradus, and the like.' These are articles that he puts down for points in histable of natural history, points for the collection of instances; this is the tabular preparation for induction here; for he does not conclude his precepts on the popular, miscellaneous, accidental history. That will do well enough for books. It won't do to get out axioms of practice from such loose material. They have to ring with the proof of another kind of condensation. Allhishistory is artificial, prepared history moreselectandsubtleandfitthan the other kind, he says,—prepared on purpose; perhaps we shall come across his tables, some day, with these very points on them, filled in with the observations of one, so qualified by the truth of direction to make them 'severe'. It would not be strange, for he gives us to understand that he is not altogether idle in this part of his Instauration, and that he does not think it enough to lay out work for others, without giving an occasional specimen of his own, of the thing which he notes as deficient, and proposes to have done, so that there may be no mistake about it as to what it really is; for he appears to think there is some danger of that. Even here, he produces a few illustrations of his meaning, that it may appear the better what is, and whether it be extant.
'And therefore we see, thatPlautusmaketh it a wonder to see an OLD man beneficent.St. Paulconcludeth that severity ofdisciplinewas to be used to theCretans, ("increpa eos dure"), uponthe dispositionof THEIR COUNTRY. "Cretenses semper mendaces, malæ bestize, ventres pigri."Sallustnoteth that it is usual with KINGS to desirecontradictories; "Sed plerumque, regiæ voluntates, ut vehementes sunt sic mobiles saepeque ipsæ sibi adversæ."Tacitusobserveth how rarely THE RAISING OF THE FORTUNE mendeth the disposition. "Solus Vespasianus mutatus in melius."Pindarmaketh an observation that great and sudden fortune for the most part defeateth men. Sothe Psalmshoweth it more easy to keep a measure in the enjoying of fortune, than in the increase of fortune; "Divitiæ si affluant nolite cor apponere."' 'These observations, and the like,'—what book is it that has so many of 'the like'?—'I deny not but are touched a little by Aristotleas in passagein hisRhetorics, and are handled in some scattered discourses.' One would think it was another philosopher, with pretensions not at all inferior, but professedly very much, and altogether superior to those of Aristotle, whose short-comings were under criticism here; 'but they (these observations) were never INCORPORATEDinto moral philosophy, to which they do ESSENTIALLY appertain, as THE KNOWLEDGE of THE DIVERSITY of GROUND and MOULDS doth toagriculture, and the knowledge of the DIVERSITY of COMPLEXIONS and CONSTITUTIONS doth to thephysician; except'—note it—'except we mean to follow the indiscretion of empirics, which ministerthe same medicines to all patients.'
Truly this does appear to give us some vistas of ascience, and a 'pretty one,' for these particulars and illustrations are here, that we may see the better what it is, and whether it be extant. That is the question. And it happens singularly enough, to be a question just as pertinent now, as it was when the philosopher put it on his paper, two hundred and fifty years ago.
Thereis the first point, then, in the table of this scientific history, with its subdivisions and articulations; and here is the second, not less essential. 'Another article of this knowledge is the inquiry touching THE AFFECTIONS; for, as in medicining the body,'—and it is a practical science we are on here; it is the cure of the mind, and not a word for show,—'as in medicining the body, it is in order,first, to know the divers complexions and constitutions; secondly, thediseases; and, lastly, thecures; so in medicining of the mind,—after knowledge of thedivers charactersofmen's natures, it followeth, in order, to know the diseases and infirmities of the mind, which are no other than the perturbations and distempers of the affections.' And we shall find, under the head of the medicining of the body, some things on the subject of medicine in general, which could be better saidtherethanhere, because the wrath of professional dignitaries,—the eye of the 'basilisk,' was not perhaps quite so terrible in that quarter then, as it was in some others. For though 'the Doctors' in that department, did manage, in the dark ages, to possess themselves of certain weapons of their own, which are said to have proved, on the whole, sufficiently formidable, they were not, as it happened, armed by the State as the others then were; and it was usually discretionary with the patient to avail himself, or not, of their drugs, and receipts, and surgeries; whereas, in the diseased and suffering soul, no such discretion was tolerated. The drugs were indeed compounded by the State in person, and the executive stood by, axe in hand, to see that they were taken, accompanying them with such other remedies as the case might seem to require; the most serious operations being constantly performed without ever taking 'the sense' of the patient.