THE WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. THE PREFACE. THE antiquities of the first age (except those we find in sacred writ) were buried in oblivion and silence; silence was succeeded by poetical fables: and fables again were followed by the records we now enjoy: so that the mysteries and secrets of antiquity were distinguished and separated from the records and evidences of succeeding times, by the veil of fiction, which interposed itself, and came between those things which perished and those which are extant. I suppose some are of opinion that my purpose is to write toys and trifles, and to usurp the same liberty in applying, that the poets assumed in feigning, which I might do (confess) if I listed, and with more serious contemplation intermix these things, to delight either myself in meditation, or others in reading. Neither am I ignorant how fickle and inconstant a thing fiction is, as being subject to be drawn and wrested any way, and how great the commodity of wit and discourse is, that is able to apply things well, yet so as never meant by the first authors. But I remember that this liberty hath been lately much abused, in that many, to purchase the reverence of antiquity to their own inventions and fancies, have for the same intent laboured to wrest many poetical fables; neither hath this old and common vanity been used only of late, or now and then: for even Chrysippus long ago did, as an interpreter of dreams, ascribe the opinions of the Stoics to the ancient poets: and more sottishly do the chymists appropriate the fancies and delights of poets in the transformations of bodies to the experiments of their furnace. All these things, I say, I have sufficiently considered and weighed and in them have seen and noted the general levity and indulgence of men's wits above allegories; and yet for all this, I relinquish not my opinion. : For, first, it may not be that the folly and looseness of a few should altogether detract from the respect due to the parables; for that were a conceit which might savour of profaneness and presumption: for religion itself doth sometimes delight in such veils and shadows; so that whoso exempts them, seems in a manner to interdict all commerce between things divine and human. But concerning human wisdom, I do indeed ingenuously and freely confess, that I am inclined to imagine, that under some of the ancient fictions lay couched certain mysteries and allegories, even from their first invention; and I am persuaded, whether ravished with the reverence of antiquity, or because in some fables I find such singular proportion between the similitude and the thing signified, and such apt and clear coherence in the very structure of them, and propriety of names wherewith the persons or actors in them are ascribed and intituled, that no man can constantly deny but this sense was in the author's intent and meaning, when they first invented them, and that they purposely shadowed it in this sort : for who can be so stupid and blind in the open light, as (when he hears how Fame, after the giants were destroyed, sprang up as their younger sister) not to refer it to the murmurs and seditious reports of both sides, which are wont to fly abroad for a time after the suppressing of insurrections? Or when he hears how the giant Typhon, having cut out and brought away Jupiter's nerves, which Mercury stole from him and restored again to Jupiter, doth not presently perceive how fitly it may be applied to powerful rebellions, which take from princes their sinews of money and authority: but so that by affability of speech and wise edicts (the minds of their subjects being in time privily, and as it were by stealth reconciled) they recover their strength again? Or when he hears how, in that memorable expedition of the gods against the giants, the braying of Silenus's ass conduced much to the profligation of the giants, doth not confidently imagine that it was invented to show how the greatest enterprises of rebels are oftentimes dispersed with vain rumours and fears. Moreover, to what judgments can the conformity and signification of names seem obscure? Seeing Metis, the wife of Jupiter doth plainly signify counsel: Typhon, insurrection : Pan, universality · Nemesis, revenge: and the like. Neither let it trouble any man, if sometimes he meet with histor cal narrations, or additions for ornament's sake, or confusion of times, or something transferred from one fable to another, to bring in a new allegory; for it could be no otherwise, seeing they were the inventions of men which lived in divers ages, and had also divers ends, some being ancient, others neoterical; some have an eye to things natural, others to moral. There is another argument, and that no small one neither, to prove that these fables contain certain hidden and involved meanings, seeing some of them are observed to be so absurd and foolish in the very relation that they show, and, as it were, proclaim a parable afar off; for such tales as are probable they may seem to be invented for delight and in imitation of history. And as for such as no man would so much as imagine or relate, they seem to be sought out for other ends: for what kind of fiction is that wherein Jupiter is said to have taken Metis to wife, and perceiving that she was with child, to have devoured her, whence himself conceiving, brought forth Pallas armed out of his head? Truly, I think there was never dream, so different to the course of cogitation, and so full of monstrosity, ever hatched in the brain of man. Above all things this prevails most with me, and is of singular moment; many of these fables seem not to be invented of those by whom they are related and celebrated, as by Homer, Hesiod, and others: for if it were so, that they took beginning in that age, and from those authors by whom they are delivered and brought to our hands, my mind gives me there could be no great or high matter expected, or supposed to proceed from them in respect of these originals. But if with attention we consider the matter, it will appear that they were delivered and related as things formerly believed and received, and not as newly invented and offered unto us. Besides, seeing they are diversely related by writers that lived near about one and the selfsame time, we may easily perceive that they were common things derived from precedent memorials; and that they became various by reason of the divers ornaments bestowed on them by particular relations; and the consideration of this must needs increase in us a great opinion of them, is not to be accounted either the effects of the times, or inventions of the poets, but as sacred relics or abstracted airs of better times, which, by tradition from more ancient nations, fell into the trumpets and flutes of the Grecians. But if any do obstinately contend, that allegories are always adventitially, and as it were by constraint, never naturally and properly included in fables, we will not be much troublesome, but suffer them to enjoy that gravity of judgment which I am sure they affect, although indeed it be but lumpish and almost leaden. And, if they be worthy to be taken notice of, we will begin afresh with them in some other fashion. There is found among men, and it goes for current, a twofold use of parables, and those, which is more to be admired, referred to contrary ends, conducing as well to the folding up and keeping of things under a veil, as to the enlightening and laying open of obscurities. But, omitting the former, rather than to undergo wrangling, and assuming ancient fables as things vagrant and composed only for delight, the latter must questionless till remain as not to be wrested from us by any violence of wit, neither can any (that is but meanly learned) hinder, but it must absolutely be received as a thing grave and sober, free from all vanity, and exceeding profitable and necessary to all sciences. This is it, I say, that leads the understanding of man by an easy and gentle passage through all novel and abstruse inventions which any way differ from common received opinions. Therefore, in the first ages, (when many human inventions and conclusions, which are now common and vulgar, were new, and not generally known,) all things were full of fables, enigmas, parables, and similes of all sorts; by which they sought to teach and lay open, not to hide and conceal knowledge, especially seeing the understandings of men were in those times rude and impatient, and almost incapable of any subtilties, such things only excepted as were the objects of sense; for, as hieroglyphics preceded letters, so parables were more ancient than arguments: and in these days also, he that would illuminate men's minds anew in any old matter, and that not with disprofit and harshness, must absolutely take the same course, and use the help of similes. Wherefore after all that hath been said, we will thus conclude, the wisdom of the ancients, it was either much or happy: much, if these figures and tropes were invented by study and premeditation; happy, if they, intending nothing less, gave matter and occasion to so many worthy meditations. As concerning my labours, if there be any thing in them which may do good, I will on neither part count them ill bestowed, my purpose being to illustrate either antiquity or things themselves. Neither am I ignorant that this very subject hath been attempted by others: but to speak as I think, and that freely, without ostentation, the dignity and efficacy of the thing, is almost lost by these men's writings, though voluminous and full of pains, whilst not diving into the depth of matters, but skilful only in certain commonplaces, have applied the sense of these parables to certain vulgar and general things, not so much as glancing at their true virtue, genuine propriety, and full depth. I, if I be not deceived, shall be new in common things; wherefore, leaving such as are plain and open, I will aim at further and richer matters. THE WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. CASSANDRA, OR DIVINATION. THE poets fable, that Apollo being enamoured of Cassandra, was, by her many shifts and cunning sleights, still deluded in his desire; but yet fed on with hope until such time as she had drawn from him the gift of prophesying; and having by such her dissimulation, in the end attained to that which from the beginning she sought after, at last flatly rejected his suit: who, finding himself so far engaged in his promise, as that he could not by any means revoke again his rash gift, and yet inflamed with an earnest desire of revenge, highly disdaining to be made the scorn of a crafty wench, annexed a penalty to his promise, to wit, that she should ever foretell the truth, but never be believed; so were her divinations always faithful, but at no time regarded, whereof she still found the experience, yea, even in the ruin of her own country, which she had often forewarned them of, but they neither gave credit nor ear to her words. This fable seems to intimate the unprofitable liberty of untimely admonitions and counsels: for they that are so overweened with the sharpness and dexterity of their own wit and capacity, as that they disdain to submit themselves to the documents of Apollo, the god of harmony, whereby to learn and observe the method and measure of affairs, the grace and gravity of discourse, the differences between the more judicious and more vulgar ears, and the due times when to speak and when to be silent; be they never so sensible and pregnant, and their judgments never so profound and profitable, yet in all their endeavours either of persuasion or perforce, they avail nothing; neither are they of any moment to advantage or manage matters, but do rather hasten on the ruin of all those that they adhere or devote themselves unto; and then, at last, when calamity hath made men feel the event of neglect, then shall they, too late, be reverenced as deep foreseeing and faithful prophets: whereof a notable instance is eminently set forth in Marcus Cato Uticensis, who, as from a watch-tower, discovered afar off, and as an oracle long foretold, the approaching ruin of his country, and the plotted tyranny hovering over the state, both in the first conspiracy, and as it was prosecuted in the civil contention between Cæsar and Pompey, and did no good the while, but rather harmed the commonwealth and hastened on his country's bane; which M. Cicero wisely observed, and writing to a familiar friend, doth in these terms excellently describe, "Cato optime sentit, sed nocet interdum Reipublicæ loquitur enim tanquam in Republicâ Platonis, non tanquam in fæce Romuli." Cato (saith he) judgeth profoundly, but in the mean time damnifies the state, for he speaks as in the commonwealth of Plato, and not as in the dregs of Romulus. TYPHON, OR A REBEL. JUNO, being vexed (say the poets) that Jupiter had begotten Pallas by himself without her, ear nestly pressed all the other gods and goddesses,that she might also bring forth of herself alone without him; and having by violence and importunity obtained a grant thereof, she smote the earth, and forthwith sprang up Typhon, a huge and horrid monster. This strange birth she commits to a serpent, as a foster-father, to nourish it; who no sooner came to ripeness of years but he provokes Jupiter to battle. In the conflict, the giant, getting the upper hand, takes Jupiter upon his shoulders, carries him into a remote and obscure country, and (cutting out the sinews of his hands and feet) brought them away, and so left him miserably mangled and maimed; but Mercury recovering these nerves from Typhon by stealth, restored them again to Jupiter. Jupiter being again by this means corroborated, assaults the monster afresh, and at the first strikes him with a thunderbolt, from whose blood serpents were engendered. This monster at length fainting and flying, Jupiter casts on him the mount Etna, and with the weight thereof crushed him. This fable seems to point at the variable fortune of princes, and the rebellious insurrection of traitors in state. For princes may well be said to be married to their dominions, as Jupiter was to Juno; but it happens now and then, that being deboshed by the long custom of empiring and bending towards tyranny, they endeavour to draw all to themselves, and, contemning the counsel of their nobles and senators, hatch laws in their own brain, that is, dispose of things by their own fancy and absolute power. The people, repining at this, study how to create and set up a chief of their own choice. This project, by the secret instigation of the peers and nobles, doth for the most part take his beginning; by whose connivance the commons being set on edge, there follows a kind of murmuring or discontent in the state, shadowed by the infancy of Typhon, which This fable may be applied to the projects of kings, who having cruel, bloody, and exacting officers, do first punish and displace them; afterwards, by the counsel of Tellus, that is of some base and ignoble person, and by the prevailing respect of profit, they admit them into their places again, that they may have instruments in a readi severity of execution or accerbity of exaction. These servile creatures being by nature cruel, and by their former fortune exasperated, and perceiving well what is expected at their hands, do show themselves wonderful officious in such kind of employments; but being too rash and precipitate in seeking countenance and creeping into favour, do sometimes take occasion, from the secret beckonings and ambiguous commands of their prince, to perform some hateful execution. But princes abhorring the fact, and knowing well that they shall never want such kind of instruments, do utterly forsake them, turning them over to the friends and allies of the wronged, to their accusations and revenge, and to the general hatred of the people; so that with great applause and prosperous wishes and acclamations towards the prince, they are brought rather too late than undeservedly to a miserable end. being nursed by the natural pravity, and clownish | revenge of which act, Apollo, Jupiter not prohibit malignity of the vulgar sort, (unto princes as in- ing it, shot them to death with his arrows. festuous as serpents,) is again repaired by renewed strength, and at last breaks out into open rebellion, which, because it brings infinite mischiefs upon prince and people, is represented by the monstrous deformity of Typhon: his hundred heads signify their divided powers, his fiery mouths their inflamed intents, his serpentine circles their pestilent malice in besieging, his iron hands their mer-ness, if at any time there should need either ciless slaughters, his eagle's talons their greedy rapines, his plumed body their continual rumours, and scouts, and fears, and suchlike; and sometimes these rebellions grow so potent, that princes are enforced (transported as it were by the rebels, and forsaking the chief seats and cities of the kingdom) to contract their power, and, being deprived of the sinews of money and majesty, betake themselves to some remote and obscure corner within their dominions; but in process of time, if they bear their misfortunes with moderation, they may recover their strength by the virtue and industry of Mercury, that is, they may, by becoming affable, and by reconciling the minds and wills of their subjects with grave edicts and gracious speech, excite an alacrity to grant aids and subsidies whereby to strengthen their authority anew. Nevertheless, having learned to be wise and wary, they will refrain to try the chance of fortune by war, and yet study how to suppress the reputation of the rebels by some famous action, which if it fall out answerable to their expectation, the rebels, finding themselves weakened, and fearing the success of their broken projects, betake themselves to some sleight and vain bravadoes like the hissing of serpents, and at length in despair betake themselves to flight, and then when they begin to break, it is safe and timely for kings to pursue and oppress them with the forces and weight of the kingdom, as it were with the mountain Etna. THEY say the Cyclops, for their fierceness and cruelty, were by Jupiter cast into hell, and there doomed to perpetual imprisonment; but Tellus persuaded Jupiter that it would do well, if being set at liberty, they were put to forge thunderbolts, which being done accordingly, they became so painful and industrious, as that day and night they continued hammering out in laborious diligence thunderbolts and other instruments of terror. In process of time Jupiter having conceived a displeasure against Esculapius, the son of Apollo, for restoring a dead man to life by physic, and concealing his dislike because there was no just cause of anger, the deed being pious and famous, secretly incensed the Cyclops against him, who without delay slew him with a thunderbolt; in NARCISSUS, OR SELF-LOVE. THEY say that Narcissus was exceeding fair and beautiful, but wonderful proud and disdainful; wherefore despising all others in respect of himself, he leads a solitary life in the woods and chases with a few followers, to whom he alone was all in all; amongst the rest there follows him the nymph Echo. During his course of life, it fatally so chanced that he came to a clear fountain, upon the bank whereof he lay down to repose himself in the heat of the day; and having espied the shadow of his own face in the water, was so besotted and ravished with the contemplation and admiration thereof, that he by no means possibly could be drawn from beholding his image in this glass; insomuch, that by continual gazing thereupon, he pined away to nothing, and was at last turned into a flower of his own name, which appears in the beginning of the spring, and is sacred to the infernal powers, Pluto, Proserpina, and the Furies. This fable seems to show the dispositions and fortunes of those, who in respect either of their beauty or other gift wherewith they are adorned and graced by nature, without the help of industry, are so far besotted in themselves as that they prove the cause of their own destruction. For it is the property of men infected with this humour not to come much abroad, or to be conversant in civil affairs; specially seeing those that are in public place must of necessity encounter with many contempts and scorns which may much deject and trouble their minds; and therefore they lead for the most part a solitary, private, and obscure life, attended on with a few followers, and those such as will adore and admire them, like an echo, flatter them in all their sayings, and applaud them in all their words; so that being by this custom seduced and puffed up, and as it were stupified with the admiration of themselves, they are possessed with so strange a sloth and idleness, that they grow in a manner benumbed and defective of all vigour and alacrity. Elegantly doth this flower, appearing in the beginning of the spring, represent the likeness of these men's dispositions, who in their youth do flourish and wax famous; but being come to ripeness of years, they deceive and frustrate the good hope that is conceived of them. Neither is it impertinent that this flower is said to be consecrated to the infernal deities, because men of this disposition become unprofitable to all human things. For whatsoever produceth no fruit of itself, but passeth and vanisheth as if it never had been, like the way of a ship in the sea, that the ancients were wont to dedicate to the ghosts, and powers below. STYX, OR LEAGUES. THE oath by which the gods were wont to oblige themselves when they meant to ratify any thing so firmly as never to revoke it, is a thing well known to the vulgar, as being mentioned almost in every fable, which was, when they did not invoke or call to witness any celestial majesty or divine power, but only the river Styx, that with crooked and meandry turnings encircleth the palace of the infernal Dis. This was held as the only manner of their sacrament, and, besides it, not any other vow to be accounted firm and inviolable, and therefore the punishment to be inflicted, if any did perjure themselves, was, that for certain years they should be put out of commons, and not to be admitted to the table of the gods. This fable seems to point at the leagues and pacts of princes, of which more truly than opportunely may be said, that be they never so strongly confirmed with the solemnity and religion of an oath, yet are for the most part of no validity; insomuch, that they are made rather with an eye to reputation, and report, and ceremony, than to faith, security, and effect. Moreover, add to these the bonds of affinity, as the sacraments of nature, and mutual deserts of each part, and you shall observe, that with a great many, all these things are placed a degree under ambition and profit, and the licentious desire of domination; and so much the rather, because it is an easy thing for princes to defend and cover their unlawful desires and unfaithful vows with VOL. 1-37 many outwardly seen.mg fair pretexts, especially seeing there is no umpire or moderator of matters concluded upon, to whom a reason should be tendered. Therefore there is no true and proper thing made choice of for the confirmation of faith, and that no celestial power neither, but is indeed necessity, (a great god to great potentates,) the peril also of state, and the communication of profit. As for necessity, it is elegantly represented by Styx, that fatal and irremeable river; and this godhead did Ipichrates, the Athenian, call to the confirmation of a league, who, because he alone is found to speak plainly that which many hide covertly in their breasts, it would not be amiss to relate his words. He observing how the Lacedemonians had thought upon and propounded divers cautions, sanctions, confirmations, and bonds, pertaining to leagues, interposed thus: Unum Lacædemonii, nobis vobiscum vinculum, et securitatis ratio esse possit, si plane demonstretis, vos ea nobis concessisse, et inter manus posuisse, ut vobis facultas lædendi nos si maxime velletis minime suppetere possit." There is one thing, oh Lacædemonians! that would link us unto you in the bond of amity, and be the occasion of peace and security, which is, if you would plainly demonstrate that you have yielded up and put into our hands such things as that, would you hurt us never so fain, you should yet be disfurnished of means to do it. If, therefore, the power of hurting be taken away, or if, by breach of league, there follow the danger of the ruin or diminution of the state or tribute, then indeed the leagues may seem to be ratified and established, and as it were confirmed by the sacrament of the Stygian lake; seeing that it includes the fear of prohibition and suspension from the table of the gods, under which name the laws and prerogatives, the plenty and felicity of a kingdom were signified by the ancients. PAN, OR NATURE. THE ancients have exquisitely described Nature under the person of Pan, whose original they leave doubtful; for some say that he was the son of Mercury, others attribute unto him a far different beginning, affirming him to be the common offspring of Penelope's suitors, upon a suspicion that every one of them had to do with her; which latter relation doubtless gave occasion to some after writers to entitle this ancient fable with the name of Penelope: a thing very frequent amongst them when they apply old fictions to young persons and names, and that many times absurdly and indiscreetly, as may be seen here: for Pan, being one of the ancient gods, was long before the time of Ulysses and Penelope. Besides, for her matrimonial chastity, she was held venerable by antiquity. Neither may we pretermit the thua conceit of his birth: for some say 2 B |