constitutive instances, which we are wont also to call collective
instances. They constitute a species or lesser form, as it were, of the
required nature. For since the real forms (which are always convertible
with the given nature) lie at some depth, and are not easily
discovered, the necessity of the case and the infirmity of the human
understanding require that the particular forms, which collect certain
groups of instances (but by no means all) into some common notion,
should not be neglected, but most diligently observed. For whatever
unites nature, even imperfectly, opens the way to the discovery of the
form. The instances, therefore, which are serviceable in this respect
are of no mean power, but endowed with some degree of prerogative.
Here, nevertheless, great care must be taken that, after the discovery
of several of these particular forms, and the establishing of certain
partitions or divisions of the required nature derived from them, the
human understanding do not at once rest satisfied, without preparing
for the investigation of the great or leading form, and taking it for
granted that nature is compound and divided from its very root, despise
and reject any further union as a point of superfluous refinement, and
tending to mere abstraction.
For instance, let the required nature be memory, or that which
excites and assists memory. The constitutive instances are order or
distribution, which manifestly assists memory: topics or commonplaces
in artificial memory, which may be either places in their literal
sense, as a gate, a corner, a window, and the like, or familiar persons
and marks, or anything else (provided it be arranged in a determinate
order), as animals, plants, and words, letters, characters, historical
persons, and the like, of which, however, some are more convenient than
others. All these commonplaces materially assist memory, and raise it
far above its natural strength. Verse, too, is recollected and learned
more easily than prose. From this group of three instances--order,
the commonplaces of artificial memory, and verses--is constituted
one species of aid for the memory,[116] which may be well termed a
separation from infinity. For when a man strives to recollect or recall
anything to memory, without a preconceived notion or perception of
the object of his search, he inquires about, and labors, and turns
from point to point, as if involved in infinity. But if he have any
preconceived notion, this infinity is separated off, and the range of
his memory is brought within closer limits. In the three instances
given above, the preconceived notion is clear and determined. In the
first, it must be something that agrees with order; in the second, an
image which has some relation or agreement with the fixed commonplaces;
in the third, words which fall into a verse: and thus infinity is
divided off. Other instances will offer another species, namely,
that whatever brings the intellect into contact with something that
strikes the sense (the principal point of artificial memory), assists
the memory. Others again offer another species, namely, whatever
excites an impression by any powerful passion, as fear, shame, wonder,
delight, assists the memory. Other instances will afford another
species: thus those impressions remain most fixed in the memory which
are taken from the mind when clear and least occupied by preceding
or succeeding notions, such as the things we learn in childhood, or
imagine before sleep, and the first time of any circumstance happening.
Other instances afford the following species: namely, that a multitude
of circumstances or handles assist the memory, such as writing in
paragraphs, reading aloud, or recitation. Lastly, other instances
afford still another species: thus the things we anticipate, and which
rouse our attention, are more easily remembered than transient events;
as if you read any work twenty times over, you will not learn it by
heart so readily as if you were to read it but ten times, trying each
time to repeat it, and when your memory fails you looking into the
book. There are, therefore, six lesser forms, as it were, of things
which assist the memory: namely--1, the separation of infinity; 2, the
connection of the mind with the senses; 3, the impression in strong
passion; 4, the impression on the mind when pure; 5, the multitude of
handles; 6, anticipation.
Again, for example’s sake, let the required nature be taste or the
power of tasting. The following instances are constitutive: 1. Those
who do not smell, but are deprived by nature of that sense, do not
perceive or distinguish rancid or putrid food by their taste, nor
garlic from roses, and the like. 2. Again, those whose nostrils are
obstructed by accident (such as a cold) do not distinguish any putrid
or rancid matter from anything sprinkled with rose-water. 3. If those
who suffer from a cold blow their noses violently at the very moment
in which they have anything fetid or perfumed in their mouth, or on
their palate, they instantly have a clear perception of the fetor or
perfume. These instances afford and constitute this species or division
of taste, namely, that it is in part nothing else than an internal
smelling, passing and descending through the upper passages of the
nostrils to the mouth and palate. But, on the other hand, those whose
power of smelling is deficient or obstructed, perceive what is salt,
sweet, pungent, acid, rough, and bitter, and the like, as well as any
one else: so that the taste is clearly something compounded of the
internal smelling, and an exquisite species of touch which we will not
here discuss.
Again, as another example, let the required nature be the communication
of quality, without intermixture of substance. The instance of light
will afford or constitute one species of communication, heat and
the magnet another. For the communication of light is momentary and
immediately arrested upon the removal of the original light. But heat,
and the magnetic force, when once transmitted to or excited in another
body, remain fixed for a considerable time after the removal of the
source.
In fine, the prerogative of constitutive instances is considerable,
for they materially assist the definitions (especially in detail) and
the divisions or partitions of natures, concerning which Plato has
well said, “He who can properly define and divide is to be considered
a god.”[117]
XXVII. In the sixth rank of prerogative instances we will place similar
or proportionate instances, which we are also wont to call physical
parallels, or resemblances. They are such as exhibit the resemblances
and connection of things, not in minor forms (as the constitutive do),
but at once in the concrete. They are, therefore, as it were, the first
and lowest steps toward the union of nature; nor do they immediately
establish any axiom, but merely indicate and observe a certain relation
of bodies to each other. But although they be not of much assistance
in discovering forms, yet they are of great advantage in disclosing
the frame of parts of the universe, upon whose members they practice
a species of anatomy, and thence occasionally lead us gently on to
sublime and noble axioms, especially such as relate to the construction
of the world, rather than to simple natures and forms.
As an example, take the following similar instances: a mirror and the
eye; the formation of the ear, and places which return an echo. From
such similarity, besides observing the resemblance (which is useful
for many purposes), it is easy to collect and form this axiom. That
the organs of the senses, and bodies which produce reflections to the
senses, are of a similar nature. Again, the understanding once informed
of this, rises easily to a higher and nobler axiom; namely, that the
only distinction between sensitive and inanimate bodies, in those
points in which they agree and sympathize, is this: in the former,
animal spirit is added to the arrangement of the body, in the latter it
is wanting. So that there might be as many senses in animals as there
are points of agreement with inanimate bodies, if the animated body
were perforated, so as to allow the spirit to have access to the limb
properly disposed for action, as a fit organ. And, on the other hand,
there are, without doubt, as many motions in an inanimate as there are
senses in the animated body, though the animal spirit be absent. There
must, however, be many more motions in inanimate bodies than senses in
the animated, from the small number of organs of sense. A very plain
example of this is afforded by pains. For, as animals are liable to
many kinds and various descriptions of pains (such as those of burning,
of intense cold, of pricking, squeezing, stretching, and the like),
so is it most certain, that the same circumstances, as far as motion
is concerned, happen to inanimate bodies, such as wood or stone when
burned, frozen, pricked, cut, bent, bruised, and the like; although
there be no sensation, owing to the absence of animal spirit.
Again, wonderful as it may appear, the roots and branches of trees
are similar instances. For every vegetable swells and throws out its
constituent parts toward the circumference, both upward and downward.
And there is no difference between the roots and branches, except that
the root is buried in the earth, and the branches are exposed to the
air and sun. For if one take a young and vigorous shoot, and bend it
down to a small portion of loose earth, although it be not fixed to
the ground, yet will it immediately produce a root, and not a branch.
And, _vice versâ_, if earth be placed above, and so forced down with a
stone or any hard substance, as to confine the plant and prevent its
branching upward, it will throw out branches into the air downward.
The gums of trees, and most rock gems, are similar instances; for both
of them are exudations and filtered juices, derived in the former
instance from trees, in the latter from stones; the brightness and
clearness of both arising from a delicate and accurate filtering. For
nearly the same reason, the hair of animals is less beautiful and vivid
in its color than the plumage of most birds, because the juices are
less delicately filtered through the skin than through the quills.
The scrotum of males and matrix of females are also similar instances;
so that the noble formation which constitutes the difference of the
sexes appears to differ only as to the one being internal and the other
external; a greater degree of heat causing the genitals to protrude in
the male, while the heat of the female being too weak to effect this,
they are retained internally.
The fins of fishes and the feet of quadrupeds, or the feet and wings of
birds, are similar instances; to which Aristotle adds the four folds in
the motion of serpents;[118] so that in the formation of the universe,
the motion of animals appears to be chiefly effected by four joints or
bendings.
The teeth of land animals, and the beaks of birds, are similar
instances, whence it is clear, that in all perfect animals there is a
determination of some hard substance toward the mouth.
Again, the resemblance and conformity of man to an inverted plant
is not absurd. For the head is the root of the nerves and animal
faculties, and the seminal parts are the lowest, not including the
extremities of the legs and arms. But in the plant, the root (which
resembles the head) is regularly placed in the lowest, and the seeds in
the highest part.[119]
Lastly, we must particularly recommend and suggest, that man’s present
industry in the investigation and compilation of natural history be
entirely changed, and directed to the reverse of the present system.
For it has hitherto been active and curious in noting the variety of
things, and explaining the accurate differences of animals, vegetables,
and minerals, most of which are the mere sport of nature, rather
than of any real utility as concerns the sciences. Pursuits of this
nature are certainly agreeable, and sometimes of practical advantage,
but contribute little or nothing to the thorough investigation of
nature. Our labor must therefore be directed toward inquiring into and
observing resemblances and analogies, both in the whole and its parts,
for they unite nature, and lay the foundation of the sciences.
Here, however, a severe and rigorous caution must be observed, that we
only consider as similar and proportionate instances, those which (as
we first observed) point out physical resemblances; that is, real and
substantial resemblances, deeply founded in nature, and not casual and
superficial, much less superstitious or curious; such as those which
are constantly put forward by the writers on natural magic (the most
idle of men, and who are scarcely fit to be named in connection with
such serious matters as we now treat of), who, with much vanity and
folly, describe, and sometimes too, invent, unmeaning resemblances and
sympathies.
But leaving such to themselves, similar instances are not to be
neglected, in the greater portions of the world’s conformation; such
as Africa and the Peruvian continent, which reaches to the Straits of
Magellan; both of which possess a similar isthmus and similar capes, a
circumstance not to be attributed to mere accident.
Again, the New and Old World are both of them broad and expanded toward
the north, and narrow and pointed toward the south.
Again, we have very remarkable similar instances in the intense cold,
toward the middle regions (as it is termed) of the air, and the violent
fires which are often found to burst from subterraneous spots, the
similarity consisting in both being ends and extremes; the extreme of
the nature of cold, for instance, is toward the boundary of heaven,
and that of the nature of heat toward the centre of the earth, by a
similar species of opposition or rejection of the contrary nature.
Lastly, in the axioms of the sciences, there is a similarity of
instances worthy of observation. Thus the rhetorical trope which is
called surprise, is similar to that of music termed the declining of
a cadence. Again--the mathematical postulate, that things which are
equal to the same are equal to one another, is similar to the form of
the syllogism in logic, which unites things agreeing in the middle
term.[120] Lastly, a certain degree of sagacity in collecting and
searching for physical points of similarity, is very useful in many
respects.[121]
XXVIII. In the seventh rank of prerogative instances, we will place
singular instances, which we are also wont to call irregular or
heteroclite (to borrow a term from the grammarians). They are such
as exhibit bodies in the concrete, of an apparently extravagant and
separate nature, agreeing but little with other things of the same
species. For, while the similar instances resemble each other, those
we now speak of are only like themselves. Their use is much the same
with that of clandestine instances: they bring out and unite nature,
and discover genera or common natures, which must afterward be limited
by real differences. Nor should we desist from inquiry, until the
properties and qualities of those things, which may be deemed miracles,
as it were, of nature, be reduced to, and comprehended in, some form or
certain law; so that all irregularity or singularity may be found to
depend on some common form; and the miracle only consists in accurate
differences, degree, and rare coincidence, not in the species itself.
Man’s meditation proceeds no further at present, than just to consider
things of this kind as the secrets and vast efforts of nature, without
an assignable cause, and, as it were, exceptions to general rules.
As examples of singular instances, we have the sun and moon among
the heavenly bodies; the magnet among minerals; quicksilver among
metals; the elephant among quadrupeds; the venereal sensation among
the different kinds of touch; the scent of sporting dogs among those
of smell. The letter S, too, is considered by the grammarians as sui
generis, from its easily uniting with double or triple consonants,
which no other letter will. These instances are of great value, because
they excite and keep alive inquiry, and correct an understanding
depraved by habit and the common course of things.
XXIX. In the eighth rank of prerogative instances, we will place
deviating instances, such as the errors of nature, or strange and
monstrous objects, in which nature deviates and turns from her
ordinary course. For the errors of nature differ from singular
instances, inasmuch as the latter are the miracles of species, the
former of individuals. Their use is much the same, for they rectify the
understanding in opposition to habit, and reveal common forms. For with
regard to these, also, we must not desist from inquiry, till we discern
the cause of the deviation. The cause does not, however, in such cases
rise to a regular form, but only to the latent process toward such a
form. For he who is acquainted with the paths of nature, will more
readily observe her deviations; and, _vice versâ_, he who has learned
her deviations will be able more accurately to describe her paths.
They differ again from singular instances, by being much more apt for
practice and the operative branch. For it would be very difficult to
generate new species, but less so to vary known species, and thus
produce many rare and unusual results.[122] The passage from the
miracles of nature to those of art is easy; for if nature be once
seized in her variations, and the cause be manifest, it will be easy to
lead her by art to such deviation as she was at first led to by chance;
and not only to that but others, since deviations on the one side
lead and open the way to others in every direction. Of this we do not
require any examples, since they are so abundant. For a compilation, or
particular natural history, must be made of all monsters and prodigious
births of nature; of everything, in short, which is new, rare and
unusual in nature. This should be done with a rigorous selection, so as
to be worthy of credit. Those are most to be suspected which depend
upon superstition, as the prodigies of Livy, and those perhaps, but
little less, which are found in the works of writers on natural magic,
or even alchemy, and the like; for such men, as it were, are the very
suitors and lovers of fables; but our instances should be derived from
some grave and credible history, and faithful narration.
XXX. In the ninth rank of prerogative instances, we will place
bordering instances, which we are also wont to term participants. They
are such as exhibit those species of bodies which appear to be composed
of two species, or to be the rudiments between the one and the other.
They may well be classed with the singular or heteroclite instances;
for in the whole system of things, they are rare and extraordinary. Yet
from their dignity, they must be treated of and classed separately,
for they point out admirably the order and constitution of things, and
suggest the causes of the number and quality of the more common species
in the universe, leading the understanding from that which is, to that
which is possible.
We have examples of them in moss, which is something between
putrescence and a plant;[123] in some comets, which hold a place
between stars and ignited meteors; in flying fishes, between fishes and
birds; and in bats, between birds and quadrupeds.[124] Again,
Simia quam similis turpissima bestia nobis.
We have also biformed fœtus, mingled species and the like.
XXXI. In the tenth rank of prerogative instances, we will place the
instances of power, or the fasces (to borrow a term from the insignia
of empire), which we are also wont to call the wit or hands of man.
These are such works as are most noble and perfect, and, as it were,
the masterpieces in every art. For since our principal object is to
make nature subservient to the state and wants of man, it becomes us
well to note and enumerate the works, which have long since been in the
power of man, especially those which are most polished and perfect:
because the passage from these to new and hitherto undiscovered
works, is more easy and feasible. For if any one, after an attentive
contemplation of such works as are extant, be willing to push forward
in his design with alacrity and vigor, he will undoubtedly either
advance them, or turn them to something within their immediate reach,
or even apply and transfer them to some more noble purpose.
Nor is this all: for as the understanding is elevated and raised by
rare and unusual works of nature, to investigate and discover the forms
which include them also, so is the same effect frequently produced by
the excellent and wonderful works of art; and even to a greater degree,
because the mode of effecting and constructing the miracles of art is
generally plain, while that of effecting the miracles of nature is more
obscure. Great care, however, must be taken, that they do not depress
the understanding, and fix it, as it were, to earth.
For there is some danger, lest the understanding should be astonished
and chained down, and as it were bewitched, by such works of art, as
appear to be the very summit and pinnacle of human industry, so as not
to become familiar with them, but rather to suppose that nothing of
the kind can be accomplished, unless the same means be employed, with
perhaps a little more diligence, and more accurate preparation.
Now, on the contrary, it may be stated as a fact, that the ways and
means hitherto discovered and observed, of effecting any matter or
work, are for the most part of little value, and that all really
efficient power depends, and is really to be deduced from the sources
of forms, none of which have yet been discovered.
Thus (as we have before observed), had any one meditated on ballistic
machines, and battering rams, as they were used by the ancients,
whatever application he might have exerted, and though he might have
consumed a whole life in the pursuit, yet would he never have hit upon
the invention of flaming engines, acting by means of gunpowder; nor
would any person, who had made woollen manufactories and cotton the
subject of his observation and reflection, have ever discovered thereby
the nature of the silkworm or of silk.
Hence all the most noble discoveries have (if you observe) come to
light, not by any gradual improvement and extension of the arts, but
merely by chance; while nothing imitates or anticipates chance (which
is wont to act at intervals of ages) but the invention of forms.
There is no necessity for adducing any particular examples of these
instances, since they are abundant. The plan to be pursued is this:
all the mechanical, and even the liberal arts (as far as they are
practical), should be visited and thoroughly examined, and thence there
should be formed a compilation or particular history of the great
masterpieces, or most finished works in each, as well as of the mode
of carrying them into effect.
Nor do we confine the diligence to be used in such a compilation to the
leading works and secrets only of every art, and such as excite wonder;
for wonder is engendered by rarity, since that which is rare, although
it be compounded of ordinary natures, always begets wonder.
On the contrary, that which is really wonderful, from some specific
difference distinguishing it from other species, is carelessly
observed, if it be but familiar. Yet the singular instances of art
should be observed no less than those of nature, which we have before
spoken of: and as in the latter we have classed the sun, the moon, the
magnet, and the like, all of them most familiar to us, but yet in their
nature singular, so should we proceed with the singular instances of
art.