Books: Literary and Philosophical Essays

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OF BOOKS

I make no doubt but it shall often befall me to speake of things
which are better, and with more truth, handled by such as are their
crafts-masters. Here is simply an essay of my natural faculties, and
no whit of those I have acquired. And he that shall tax me with
ignorance shall have no great victory at my hands; for hardly could
I give others reasons for my discourses that give none unto my
selfe, and am not well satisfied with them. He that shall make
search after knowledge, let him seek it where it is there is nothing
I professe lesse. These are but my fantasies by which I endevour not
to make things known, but my selfe. They may haply one day be knowne
unto me, or have bin at other times, according as fortune hath
brought me where they were declared or manifested. But I remember
them no more. And if I be a man of some reading, yet I am a man of
no remembering, I conceive no certainty, except it bee to give
notice how farre the knowledge I have of it doth now reach. Let no
man busie himselfe about the matters, but on the fashion I give
them. Let that which I borrow be survaied, and then tell me whether
I have made good choice of ornaments to beautifie and set foorth the
invention which ever comes from mee. For I make others to relate
(not after mine owne fantasie but as it best falleth out) what I
cannot so well expresse, either through unskill of language or want
of judgement. I number not my borrowings, but I weigh them. And if I
would have made their number to prevail, I would have had twice as
many. They are all, or almost all, of so famous and ancient names,
that me thinks they sufficiently name themselves without mee. If in
reasons, comparisons, and arguments, I transplant any into my soile,
or confound them with mine owne, I purposely conceale the author,
thereby to bridle the rashnesse of these hastie censures that are so
headlong cast upon all manner of compositions, namely young writings
of men yet living; and in vulgare that admit all the world to talke
of them, and which seemeth to convince the conception and publike
designe alike. I will have them to give Plutarch a barb [Footnote:
Thrust, taunt] upon mine own lips, and vex themselves in wronging
Seneca in mee. My weaknesse must be hidden under such great credits.
I will love him that shal trace or unfeather me; I meane through
clearenesse of judgement, and by the onely distinction of the force
and beautie of my discourses. For my selfe, who for want of memorie
am ever to seeke how to trie and refine them by the knowledge of
their country, knowe perfectly, by measuring mine owne strength,
that my soyle is no way capable of some over-pretious flowers that
therein I find set, and that all the fruits of my increase could not
make it amends. This am I bound to answer for if I hinder my selfe,
if there be either vanitie or fault in my discourses that I perceive
not or am not able to discerne if they be showed me. For many faults
do often escape our eyes; but the infirmitie of judgement consisteth
in not being able to perceive them when another discovereth them
unto us. Knowledge and truth may be in us without judgement, and we
may have judgment without them: yea, the acknowledgement of
ignorance is one of the best and surest testimonies of judgement
that I can finde. I have no other sergeant of band to marshall my
rapsodies than fortune. And looke how my humours or conceites
present themselves, so I shuffle them up. Sometimes they prease out
thicke and three fold, and other times they come out languishing one
by one. I will have my naturall and ordinarie pace scene as loose
and as shuffling as it is. As I am, so I goe on plodding. And
besides, these are matters that a man may not be ignorant of, and
rashly and casually to speake of them. I would wish to have a more
perfect understanding of things, but I will not purchase it so deare
as it cost. My intention is to passe the remainder of my life
quietly and not laboriously, in rest and not in care. There is
nothing I will trouble or vex myselfe about, no not for science it
selfe, what esteeme soever it be of. I doe not search and tosse over
books but for an honester recreation to please, and pastime to
delight my selfe: or if I studie, I only endevour to find out the
knowledge that teacheth or handleth the knowledge of my selfe, and
which may instruct me how to die well and how to live well.

Has meus ad metas sudet oportet equus.
[Footnote: Propeet. 1. iv. El. i. 70]

My horse must sweating runne,
That this goale may be wonne.

If in reading I fortune to meet with any difficult points, I fret
not my selfe about them, but after I have given them a charge or
two, I leave them as I found them. Should I earnestly plod upon
them, I should loose both time and my selfe, for I have a skipping
wit. What I see not at the first view, I shall lesse see it if I
opinionate my selfe upon it. I doe nothing without blithnesse; and
an over obstinate continuation and plodding contention doth dazle,
dul, and wearie the same: my sight is thereby confounded and
diminished. I must therefore withdraw it, and at fittes goe to
it againe. Even as to judge well of the lustre of scarlet we are
taught to cast our eyes over it, in running over by divers glances,
sodaine glimpses and reiterated reprisings. [Footnote: Repeated
observations.] If one booke seeme tedious unto me I take another,
which I follow not with any earnestnesse, except it be at such
houres as I am idle, or that I am weary with doing nothing. I am
not greatly affected to new books, because ancient Authors are, in
my judgement, more full and pithy: nor am I much addicted to Greeke
books, forasmuch as my understanding cannot well rid [Footnote:
Accomplish.] his worke with a childish and apprentise intelligence.
Amongst moderne bookes meerly pleasant, I esteeme Bocace his
Decameron, Rabelais, and the kisses of John the second (if they
may be placed under this title), worth the paines-taking to reade
them. As for Amadis and such like trash of writings, they had
never the credit so much as to allure my youth to delight in them.
This I will say more, either boldly or rashly, that this old and
heavie-pased minde of mine will no more be pleased with Aristotle,
or tickled with good Ovid: his facility and quaint inventions,
which heretofore have so ravished me, they can now a days scarcely
entertaine me. I speake my minde freely of all things, yea, of such
as peradventure exceed my sufficiencie, and that no way I hold to
be of my jurisdiction. What my conceit is of them is told also to
manifest the proportion of my insight, and not the measure of things.
If at any time I finde my selfe distasted of Platoes Axiochus, as of
a forceles worke, due regard had to such an Author, my judgement doth
nothing beleeve it selfe: It is not so fond-hardy, or selfe-conceited,
as it durst dare to oppose it selfe against the authority of so
many other famous ancient judgements, which he reputeth his regents
and masters, and with whom hee had rather erre. He chafeth with,
and condemneth himselfe, either to rely on the superficiall sense,
being unable to pierce into the centre, or to view the thing by some
false lustre. He is pleased only to warrant himselfe from trouble
and unrulinesse: As for weaknesse, he acknowledgeth and ingeniously
avoweth the same. He thinks to give a just interpretation to the
apparences which his conception presents unto him, but they are
shallow and imperfect. Most of AEsopes fables have divers senses,
and severall interpretations: Those which Mythologize them, chuse
some kinde of colour well suting with the fable; but for the most
part, it is no other than the first and superficiall glosse: There
are others more quicke, more sinnowie, more essentiall, and more
internall, into which they could never penetrate; and thus thinke
I with them. But to follow my course, I have ever deemed that in
Poesie, Virgil, Lucretius, Catullus, and Horace, doe doubtles by
far hold the first ranke: and especially Virgil in his Georgiks,
which I esteeme to be the most accomplished peece of worke of
Poesie: In comparison of which one may easily discerne, that there
are some passages in the AEneidos to which the Author (had he
lived) would no doubt have given some review or correction: The
fifth booke whereof is (in my mind) the most absolutely perfect. I
also love Lucan, and willingly read him, not so much for his stile,
as for his owne worth and truth of his opinion and judgement. As
for good Terence, I allow the quaintnesse and grace of his Latine
tongue, and judge him wonderfull conceited and apt, lively to
represent the motions and passions of the minde, and the condition
of our manners: our actions make me often remember him. I can never
reade him so often but still I discover some new grace and beautie
in him. Those that lived about Virgil's time, complained that some
would compare Lucretius unto him. I am of opinion that verily it is
an unequall comparison; yet can I hardly assure my selfe in this
opinion whensoever I finde my selfe entangled in some notable
passage of Lucretius. If they were moved at this comparison, what
would they say now of the fond, hardy and barbarous stupiditie of
those which now adayes compare Ariosto unto him? Nay, what
would Ariosto say of it himselfe?

O seclum insipiens et infacetutn.
[Footnote: Catul. Epig, xl. 8.]

O age that hath no wit,
And small conceit in it.

I thinke our ancestors had also more reason to cry out against those
that blushed not to equall Plautus unto Terence (who makes more show
to be a Gentleman) than Lucretius unto Virgil. This one thing doth
greatly advantage the estimation and preferring of Terence, that the
father of the Roman eloquence, of men of his quality doth so often
make mention of him; and the censure [Footnote: Opinion.] which the
chiefe Judge of the Roman Poets giveth of his companion. It hath
often come unto my minde, how such as in our dayes give themselves
to composing of comedies (as the Italians who are very happy in
them) employ three or foure arguments of Terence and Plautus to make
up one of theirs. In one onely comedy they will huddle up five or
six of Bocaces tales. That which makes them so to charge themselves
with matter, is the distrust they have of their owne sufficiency,
and that they are not able to undergoe so heavie a burthen with
their owne strength. They are forced to finde a body on which they
may rely and leane themselves: and wanting matter of their owne
wherewith to please us, they will have the story or tale to busie
and ammuse us: where as in my Authors it is cleane contrary: The
elegancies, the perfections and ornaments of his manner of speech,
make us neglect and lose the longing for his subject. His
quaintnesse and grace doe still retaine us to him. He is every where
pleasantly conceited, [Footnote: Full of pleasant notions.]

Liquidus puroque simillimus amni
[Footnote: Hor. 1. ii. Epist. II. 120.]

So clearely-neate, so neately-cleare,
As he a fine-pure River were,

and doth so replenish our minde with his graces that we forget those
of the fable. The same consideration drawes me somewhat further. I
perceive that good and ancient Poets have shunned the affectation
and enquest, not only of fantasticall, new fangled, Spagniolized,
and Petrarchisticall elevations, but also of more sweet and sparing
inventions, which are the ornament of all the Poeticall workes of
succeeding ages. Yet is there no competent Judge that findeth them
wanting in those Ancient ones, and that doth not much more admire
that smoothly equall neatnesse, continued sweetnesse, and
flourishing comelinesse of Catullus his Epigrams, than all the
sharpe quips and witty girds wherewith Martiall doth whet and
embellish the conclusions of his. It is the same reason I spake of
erewhile, as Martiall of himselfe. Minus illi ingenio laborandum
fuit, in cuius locum materia successerat. [Footnote: Mart. Praf. 1.
viii.] "He needed the lesse worke with his wit, in place whereof
matter came in supply." The former without being moved or pricked
cause themselves to be heard lowd enough: they have matter to laugh
at every where, and need not tickle themselves; where as these must
have foraine helpe: according as they have lesse spirit, they must
have more body. They leape on horsebacke, because they are not
sufficiently strong in their legs to march on foot. Even as in our
dances, those base conditioned men that keepe dancing-schooles,
because they are unfit to represent the port and decencie of our
nobilitie, endevour to get commendation by dangerous lofty trickes,
and other strange tumbler-like friskes and motions. And some Ladies
make a better shew of their countenances in those dances, wherein
are divers changes, cuttings, turnings, and agitations of the body,
than in some dances of state and gravity, where they need but simply
to tread a naturall measure, represent an unaffected cariage, and
their ordinary grace; And as I have also seene some excellent
Lourdans, or Clownes, attired in their ordinary worky-day clothes,
and with a common homely countenance, affoord us all the pleasure
that may be had from their art: but prentises and learners that are
not of so high a forme, besmeare their faces, to disguise
themselves, and in motions counterfeit strange visages and antickes,
to enduce us to laughter. This my conception is no where better
discerned than in the comparison betweene Virgils AEneidos and
Orlando Furioso. The first is seene to soare aloft with full-spread
wings, and with so high and strong a pitch, ever following his
point; the other faintly to hover and flutter from tale to tale, and
as it were skipping from bough to bough, always distrusting his owne
wings, except it be for some short flight, and for feare his
strength and breath should faile him, to sit downe at every fields-
end;

Excursusque breves tentat.
[Footnote: Virg. AEn. 1. iv. 194.]

Out-lopes [Footnote: Wanderings out.] sometimes he doth assay,
But very short, and as he may.

Loe here then, concerning this kinde of subjects, what Authors
please me best: As for my other lesson, which somewhat more mixeth
profit with pleasure, whereby I learne to range my opinions and
addresse my conditions, the Bookes that serve me thereunto are
Plutarke (since he spake [Footnote: Was translated by Angot] French)
and Seneca; both have this excellent commodity for my humour, that
the knowledge I seeke in them is there so scatteringly and loosely
handled, that whosoever readeth them is not tied to plod long upon
them, whereof I am uncapable. And so are Plutarkes little workes and
Senecas Epistles, which are the best and most profitable parts of
their writings. It is no great matter to draw mee to them, and I
leave them where I list. For they succeed not and depend not one of
another. Both jumpe [Footnote: Agree] and suit together, in most
true and profitable opinions: And fortune brought them both into the
world in one age. Both were Tutors unto two Roman Emperours: Both
were strangers, and came from farre Countries; both rich and mighty
in the common-wealth, and in credit with their masters. Their
instruction is the prime and creame of Philosophy, and presented
with a plaine, unaffected, and pertinent fashion. Plutarke is more
uniforme and constant; Seneca more waving and diverse. This doth
labour, force, and extend himselfe, to arme and strengthen vertue
against weaknesse, feare, and vitious desires; the other seemeth
nothing so much to feare their force or attempt, and in a manner
scorneth to hasten or change his pace about them, and to put
himselfe upon his guard. Plutarkes opinions are Platonicall, gentle
and accommodable unto civill societie: Senecaes Stoicall and
Epicurian, further from common use, but in my conceit [Footnote:
Opinion.] more proper, particular, and more solid. It appeareth in
Seneca that he somewhat inclineth and yeeldeth to the tyrannic of
the Emperors which were in his daies; for I verily believe, it is
with a forced judgement he condemneth the cause of those noblie-
minded murtherers of Caesar; Plutarke is every where free and open
hearted; Seneca full-fraught with points and sallies; Plutarke stuft
with matters. The former doth move and enflame you more; the latter
content, please, and pay you better: This doth guide you, the other
drive you on. As for Cicero, of all his works, those that treat of
Philosophie (namely morall) are they which best serve my turne, and
square with my intent. But boldly to confess the truth (for, since
the bars of impudencie were broken downe, all curbing is taken
away), his manner of writing seemeth verie tedious unto me, as doth
all such like stuffe. For his prefaces, definitions, divisions, and
Etymologies consume the greatest part of his works; whatsoever
quick, wittie, and pithie conceit is in him is surcharged and
confounded by those his long and far-fetcht preambles. If I bestow
but one hour in reading them, which is much for me, and let me call
to minde what substance or juice I have drawne from him, for the
most part I find nothing but wind and ostentation in him; for he is
not yet come to the arguments which make for his purpose, and
reasons that properly concerne the knot or pith I seek after. These
Logicall and Aristotelian ordinances are not avail full for me, who
onely endeavour to become more wise and sufficient, and not more
wittie or eloquent. I would have one begin with the last point: I
understand sufficiently what death and voluptuousnesse are: let not
a man busie himselfe to anatomize them. At the first reading of a
booke I seeke for good and solid reasons that may instruct me how to
sustaine their assaults. It is neither grammaticall subtilties nor
logicall quiddities, nor the wittie contexture of choice words or
arguments and syllogismes, that will serve my turne. I like those
discourses that give the first charge to the strongest part of the
doubt; his are but flourishes, and languish everywhere. They are
good for schooles, at the barre, or for Orators and Preachers, where
we may slumber: and though we wake a quarter of an houre after, we
may finde and trace him soone enough. Such a manner of speech is fit
for those judges that a man would corrupt by hooke or crooke, by
right or wrong, or for children and the common people, unto whom a
man must tell all, and see what the event would be. I would not have
a man go about and labour by circumlocutions to induce and winne me
to attention, and that (as our Heralds or Criers do) they shall ring
out their words: Now heare me, now listen, or ho-yes. [Footnote:
Oyez, hear.] The Romanes in their religion were wont to say, "Hoc
age; [Footnote: Do this.] "which in ours we say, "Sursum corda.
[Footnote: Lift up your hearts.] There are so many lost words for
me. I come readie prepared from my house. I neede no allurement nor
sawce, my stomacke is good enough to digest raw meat: And whereas
with these preparatives and flourishes, or preambles, they thinke to
sharpen my taste or stir my stomacke, they cloy and make it
wallowish. [Footnote: Mawkish.] Shall the privilege of times excuse
me from this sacrilegious boldnesse, to deem Platoes Dialogismes to
be as languishing, by over-filling and stuffing his matter? And to
bewaile the time that a man who had so many thousands of things to
utter, spends about so many, so long, so vaine, and idle
interloqutions, and preparatives? My ignorance shall better excuse
me, in that I see nothing in the beautie of his language. I
generally enquire after bookes that use sciences, and not after such
as institute them. The two first, and Plinie, with others of their
ranke, have no Hoc age in them, they will have to doe with men that
have forewarned themselves; or if they have, it is a materiall and
substantial! Hoc age, and that hath his bodie apart I likewise love
to read the Epistles and ad Atticum, not onely because they containe
a most ample instruction of the historic and affaires of his times,
but much more because in them I descrie his private humours. For (as
I have said elsewhere) I am wonderfull curious to discover and know
the minde, the soul, the genuine disposition and naturall judgement
of my authors. A man ought to judge their sufficiencie and not their
customes, nor them by the shew of their writings, which they set
forth on this world's theatre. I have sorrowed a thousand times that
ever we lost the booke that Brutus writ of Vertue. Oh it is a goodly
thing to learne the Theorike of such as understand the practice
well. But forsomuch as the Sermon is one thing and the Preacher an
other, I love as much to see Brutus in Plutarke as in himself: I
would rather make choice to know certainly what talk he had in his
tent with some of his familiar friends, the night fore-going the
battell, than the speech he made the morrow after to his Armie; and
what he did in his chamber or closet, than what in the senate or
market place. As for Cicero, I am of the common judgement, that
besides learning there was no exquisite [Footnote: Overelaborate.]
eloquence in him: He was a good citizen, of an honest, gentle
nature, as are commonly fat and burly men: for so was he: But to
speake truly of thim? full of ambitious vanity and remisse niceness.
[Footnote: Ineffectual fastidiousness.] And I know not well how to
excuse him, in that he deemed his Poesie worthy to be published. It
is no great imperfection to make bad verses, but it is an
imperfection in him that he never perceived how unworthy they were
of the glorie of his name. Concerning his eloquence, it is beyond
all comparison, and I verily beleeve that none shall ever equall it.
Cicero the younger, who resembled his father in nothing but in name,
commanding in Asia, chanced one day to have many strangers at his
board, and amongst others, one Caestius sitting at the lower end, as
the manner is to thrust in at great mens tables: Cicero inquired of
one of his men what he was, who told him his name, but he dreaming
on other matters, and having forgotten what answere his man made
him, asked him his name twice or thrice more: the servant, because
he would not be troubled to tell him one thing so often, and by some
circumstance to make him to know him better, "It is," said he, "the
same Caestius of whom some have told you that, in respect of his
owne, maketh no accompt of your fathers eloquence:" Cicero being
suddainly mooved, commanded the said poore Caestius to be presently
taken from the table, and well whipt in his presence: Lo heere an
uncivill and barbarous host. Even amongst those which (all things
considered) have deemed his eloquence matchlesse and incomparable,
others there have been who have not spared to note some faults in
it. As great Brutus said, that it was an eloquence broken, halting,
and disjoynted, fractam et elumbem: "Incoherent and sinnowlesse."
Those Orators that lived about his age, reproved also in him the
curious care he had of a certaine long cadence at the end of his
clauses, and noted these words, esse videatur, which he so often
useth. As for me, I rather like a cadence that falleth shorter, cut
like Iambikes: yet doth he sometimes confounde his numbers,
[Footnote: Confuse his rhythm.] but it is seldome: I have especially
observed this one place: "Ego vero me minus diu senem esse mallem,
quam esse senem, antequam essem? [Footnote: Cic. De Senect.] "But I
had rather not be an old man, so long as I might be, than to be old
before I should be." Historians are my right hand, for they are
pleasant and easie; and therewithall the man with whom I desire
generally to be acquainted may more lively and perfectly be
discovered in them than in any other composition: the varictic and
truth of his inward conditions, in grosse and by retale: the
diversitie of the meanes of his collection and composing, and of the
accidents that threaten him. Now those that write of mens lives,
forasmuch as they ammuse and busie themselves more about counsels
than events, more about that which commeth from within than that
which appeareth outward; they are fittest for me: And that's the
reason why Plutarke above all in that kind doth best please me.
Indeed I am not a little grieved that we have not a dozen of
Laertius, or that he is not more knowne, or better understood; for I
am no lesse curious to know the fortunes and lives of these great
masters of the world than to understand the diversitie of their
decrees and conceits. In this kind of studie of historie a man must,
without distinction, tosse and turne over all sorts of Authors, both
old and new, both French and others, if he will learne the things
they so diversly treat of. But me thinkes that Caesar above all doth
singularly deserve to be studied, not onely for the understanding of
the historie as of himselfe; so much perfection and excellencie is
there in him more than in others, although Salust be reckoned one of
the number. Verily I read that author with a little more reverence
and respects than commonly men reade profane and humane Workes:
sometimes considering him by his actions and wonders of his
greatnesse, and other times waighing the puritie and inimitable
polishing and elegancie of his tongue, which (as Cicero saith) hath
not onely exceeded all historians, but haply Cicero himselfe: with
such sinceritie in his judgement, speaking of his enemies, that
except the false colours wherewith he goeth about to cloake his bad
cause, and the corruption and filthinesse of his pestilent ambition,
I am perswaded there is nothing in him to be found fault with: and
that he hath been over-sparing to speake of himselfe; for so many
notable and great things could never be executed by him, unlesse he
had put more of his owne into them than he setteth downe. I love
those Historians that are either very simple or most excellent. The
simple who have nothing of their owne to adde unto the storie and
have but the care and diligence to collect whatsoever come to their
knowledge, and sincerely and faithfully to register all things,
without choice or culling, by the naked truth leave our judgment
more entire and better satisfied.

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