of duty; he shrinks from the idea of killing him. One of the reasons which deters him from consenting to the murder is his fear lest the people of the land, who all believe John to be a prophet, should rise in arms to But it is evident avenge his death. that Herod has also scruples of conscience which contribute to his reluctance. For he has long been thoroughly acquainted with the manner of life, and the conduct of John, he has been accustomed to frequent attendance on his instructions. He still listens to them at times with gladness; and in many respects regulates his own proceedings in conformity to the exhortations of the prophet. Sunk in sin, he trembles in the presence of holiness. Enslaved to Satan, he reverences the name of God. Let thy imprisonment,' he whispers to himself, let thy unjust imprisonment satisfy the queen. Thy blood shall not be upon my 'head.' "The malice of Herodias is unabated. The king, it is true, has not yet consented to her purpose; but she does not despair. She has already proved herself able to persuade him to detain John in prison; and she hopes, by seizing some faTourable opportunity, to obtain a mandate for his execution. A favourable opportunity arrives, and she does not let it slip. In a moment of riotous festivity, Herod promises to grant her daughter's request, even though it should amount, according to his own figurative expression, to the half of his kingdom. The young woman retires to consult her mother. In her absence behold Herod amusing himself with conjectures concerning the nature of the recompence which she will prefer. Will she demand a jewelled robe? A sumptuous palace? The revenues of a city? The government of a province?' He knows not what is passing in the mind of Herodias. He knows not that vanity and pride and avarice and ambition have retired, and have relinquished the whole heart to revenge. His speculations are interrupted by the entrance of her daughter. Mirth and curiosity sparkle in his eyes. She advances straightway with haste. All is silent. She requires the head of John the Baptist! She requires that it be produced without delay. She requires that it be delivered to her VOL. I. in a charger, that her mother may glut herself with the spectacle. How does Herod receive the demand? Does he aver that no promise, no oath, can bind him to do that which he has no right to do, that which God has forbidden, to commit murder? Does he reject the claim with abhor. rence? Does he punish those who urge it? Herod loves the praise of men more than the praise of God. He is exceeding sorry when he hears the request of the daughter of Herodias. But habits of sin have perverted his understanding, clouded his conscience, undermined his stedfastness, enslaved him to false shame. He is perplexed by indistinct scruples, or pretends to be perplexed by scruples He apprehends respecting his oath that his nobles will censure him if he departs from his word. He immediately commissions the executioner to behead John in the prison. "Within no long time afterwards, Herod is apprized of the wonderful actions of Jesus Christ, and of the different opinions which men entertain concerning him. His own opi nion is speedily formed. He concludes that John the Baptist is restored to life. Whence is this con clusion? Whence, but from the remembrance of his guilt, which haunts him night and day, and menaces him with the sure chastisement of heaven? Overwhelmed with terror and consternation, he concludes that God has undertaken the cause of his ser vant; that God has raised the murdered prophet from the grave, and has sent him again upon earth, armed with the power of working the most stupendous miracles, that he may avenge himself on the wretch who despised his reproof, and shed his innocent blood. It is John, he crics, whom I beheaded. He is risen from the dead; and therefore mighty works do shew forth themselves in him! Such are the terrors of a wounded conscience!" p. 280-285. CXXI. NovUM ORGANUM SCIEN TIARUM; containing Rules for con- they combined their forces. If some 2. The thing we propose, is to settle the degrees of certainty; to guard the sense by a kind of reduction; generally to reject that work of the mind which is consequent to sense; and to open and prepare a new and certain way for the mind, from the immediate perceptions of the senses. And thus much was, doubtless, intended by those who have so highly magnified the art of logic, which plainly shews they sought for some assistances to the understanding; and held the natural procedure, and spontaneous motion of the mind suspect. But this remedy came too late, after the mind was possessed, and polluted by customs, lectures, and doctrines, and filled with vain idols, or false notions.-Whence this superinduction of logic, far from correcting what was amiss, rather fixed the errors of the mind than opened a way to truth. The only remedy left is, therefore, to begin the whole work of the mind anew, and from the very first, never leave it to itself, but keep it under perpetual regulation, as the business were performed by a machine t. And, indeed, if men had set about mechanical works, with their bare hands, unassisted with instruments, as they have ventured to set about intellectual works, almost with the naked powers of the mind, they would have found themselves able to have affected very little, even though Viz. by contriving ways of submitting things, in a proper manner, to the senses, that a true judgment may be formed of them, when thus again brought under view. + Hence we learn the reason of the title Novum Organum; though doubtless the author also intended some allusion to the Organon, or Logic of Aristotle. "3. Upon the whole, men are to be reminded of two things; 1. That it fortunately happens, to prevent all controversy and elation of mind, that the ancients will remain undisturbed in the honour and reverence due to them, whilst we pursue our own design, and reap the fruits of our moderation. For if we should pretend to produce any thing better than the ancients, yet proceed in the same way as they did, we could by no art of words prevent soine apparent rivalship in capacity or ability; and however allowable this might be, as it is a liberty they took before us, yet we should know the inequality of our own strength, and not stand the comparison. But now, as we go upon opening a quite new way for the understanding, untried and unknown to the ancients, the case changes, and all party and contest drops. 2. That we are no way bent upon disturbing the present philoso The foundation of the Novum Organum be not found just, the superstructure must seems laid in this paragraph; so that if this fall of course. phy, or any other that is, or shall appear more perfect; the common system, and others of the same kind, may continue, for us, to cherish disputes, embellish speeches, &c. the philosophy we would introduce, will be of little service in such cases; nor is ours very obvious, and to be taken at once, nor tempting to the under standing, nor suited to vulgar capacities, but solely rests upon its utility and effects. Let there be, therefore by joint consent, two fountains, or dispensations of doctrine, and two tribes of philosophers, by no means enemies or strangers, but confederates and mutual auxiliaries to each other; and let there be one method of cultivating, and another of discovering the sciences. And to those who find the former more agreeable, for the sake of dispatch, or upon civil accounts, or because the other course is less suited to their capacities, (as must Beeds be the case with far the greater number) we wish success in the procedure, and they may obtain their ends. But if any one has it at heart, not only to receive the things hitherto discovered, but to advance still far ther, and not to conquer an adversary by disputation, but to conquer cature by works; not neatly to raise probable conjectures, but to know things of a certainty and demonstratively; let him, as a true son of the sciences, join issue with us, if he pleases; that, leaving the entrance of nature, which infinite numbers have trod, we may at length pass into her inner courts. To make ourselves still more intelligible, we shall give names to these two methods of pro ecdure, and familiarly call the first the anticipation of the mind, and the other the interpretation of nature. "4. And now, we have only this request to make, that as we have bestowed much thought and care †, not * Notwithstanding this distinction, the uthor has been suspected to oppose the incients, though this design every where is o make use of all the assistance they afford, it for the purpose, and to advance the whole f philosophy to a greater perfection. But ow few helps and materials for this purJose are derivable from the ancients is ano-. her consideration. See hereafter, Sect. iv. lee also hereafter, Aph. 31, &c. only that what we offer should be true, but also, as much as is possible, that it should be accessible to the hu man mind, though strangely beset and prepossessed; we intreat it, as a piece of justice at the hands of mankind, if they would judge of any thing we deliver, either from their own sense, the cloud of authorities, or the forms of demonstration which now prevail, as so many judicial laws, that they do it not on the sudden, and without attention, but first master the subject, by degrees make trial of the way we chalk out, and accustom themselves to that subtilty of things, which is imprinted in experience; and lastly, that by due and seasonable perseverance, they correct the ill habits that closely adhere to the mind and when thus they begin to be themselves, let them use their own judg ment, and welcome ‡." Introduction xviii-xxii. Part I Section I. General Aphorisms for interpreting Nature, and extending the Empire of Man over the Creation. "2. Neither the hand without instruments, nor the unassisted unders standing, can do much; they both require helps to fit them for business; and as instruments of the hand either serve to excite motion, or direct it, so the instruments of the mind either suggest to, or guard and preserve the understanding §." p. 1, 2. once a year, till he brought it to the present degree of perfection. And whoever desires to see how far it was, by this means, improved, may compare it with the Cogitata et Visa, published by Gruter; which was the rough draught of the first book only of the thirteen, if not many more years before the Novum Organum, and sketched out at least publication of this piece; for Sir Thomas Bodley, in the year 1607, complains of the author for having kept it so long in his coffer. Though this request might be more necessary at the time the author made it, yet perhaps it is not still unseasonable; for possibly the generality even of philosophers are not to this day sufficiently divested of pre-occupation, party, and prejudice, to form a true judgment of what the author wrote so long ago. This aphorism, in another place, is turned thus: The naked and unassisted hand, however strong and true, is adapted only to The author wrote the following work the performance of a few easy works; but welve times over with his own hand; mak-when assisted by instruments, becomes able it a rule to revise, correct, and alter it to perform abundance more, and of much "9. The root of all mischief in the sciences is this, that falsely magnifying and admiring the powers of the mind, we seek not its real helps. 10. The subtilty of nature far exceeds the subtilty of the sense and understanding; so that the sublime meditations, speculations, and reasonings of men, are but a kind of madness, if fit persons were to observe them *" p. 4, 5. 14. Syllogism consists of propositions. propositions of words, and words are the signs of notions; therefore, if our notions, the basis of all, are confused, and oyer hastily taken from things, nothing that is built upon them can be firm; whence our only hope rests upon genuine induction +." p. 3, 6. 19. There are two ways of searching after, and discovering truth; the one, from sense and particulars, rises directly to the most general axioms, and resting upen these principles, and their unshaken truth, finds out intermediate axioms; and this is the method in use. But the other raises axioms from sense and particulars, by a continued gradual ascent, till at last it arises at the most general axjoms, which is the true way, but hitherto untried ‡.” p. 7, 8. 23. There is a wide difference betwixt the idols of the human mind, greater difficulty; and the case is exactly the same with the mind. The whole will be abundantly explained and illustrated by what follows. See also Introduction, §, and 3. * This aphorism deserves attention. Cer tainly, upon examining, every man may find his common notions very inadequate, or far from corresponding even with those he gains by conversing more familiarly and intimately with nature And yet, after a life spent upon any particular enquiry, in the common method, there still usually remains some subtilty of nature behind, which we cannot catch, and are apt, perhaps very extravagantly, to guess at. And if this be the case in sensible and material things, what must our general theories and system's be? +. A competent catalogue of instances, on both sides of the question; so that when all the exceptions are properly made, a sound, or at least a serviceable portion of truth may be left, as an axiom, behind. See Aph. 105, 106, And upon this way it is, that the author rests his greatest hopes of improving philo sophy and the sciences. See hereafter, Aph. 105. and the ideas of the divine mind, that "26. The natural human reasoning, we, for the sake of clearness, call the anticipation of nature, as being a rash and hasty thing; and the reason duly exercised upon objects, we call the interpretation of nature. "27. This anticipation has force enough to procure consent; for if all mankind were mad, in one and the same manner, they might still agree among themselves. "28.Anticipations, also, have a much greater power to entrap the assent, than interpretations; because, being collected from few familiar particulars, they immediately strike the mind, and all the imagination; whereas interpretations, being separately collected from very various and very distant things, cannot suddenly affect the mind; whence, of necessity, in difficult and paradoxical matters,these interpretations appear like mysteries of faith . 29. In the sciences, founded on opinion and decree, anticipations and logic are of great service, where not things, but the assent is to be brought under subjection. 30. But though the labours and capacities of men in all ages were united and continued, they could make no considerable progress in the sciences, by anticipation; because the radical errors, in the first concoction of the mind, are not to be cured by the excellence of any succeeding talents and remedies**. "31. And it is in vain to expect any great advancement of the sciences, by superinducing or engrafting new inventions upon old. The restoration must be begun from the very founda See above, Aph. 10. Astronomers distinguish between the real and pparent me tions of the heavens; the one, being respective to man, and the other to the truth; or supposing an observer seated in the centr of the system. This may, perhaps, illustra the present aphorism. Is it not also the chief spring of human actions? This aphorism seems capital, or almos axiomatical; it is made great use of bem after, and requires to be well remembered. ** Let this aphorism be well considered and, if found just, remembered. The Pleader's Guide. tion, unless men chuse to move con- These images, or idols, are divided into four classes, described by names, and their effects are then represented. "9. When the mind is once pleased with certain things. it draws all others to consent, and go along with them; and though the power and number of instances, that make for the contrary, are greater, yet it either attends not to them, or despises them, or else removes and rejects them, by a distinction, with a strong and pernicious prejudice to maintain the authority of its first choice unviolated. And hence, in most cases of superstition, as of astrology, dreams, omens, judgments, &c. those who find pleasure in such kind of vanities, a.ways observe when the event answers, but slight and pass by the instances where it fails, which are much the more frequent. This mischief diffuses itself still more subtilly in philosophics and the sciences, where that which has once pleased infects and subdues all other things, though much more substantial and valuable than itself. And though the mind were free from this delight and vanity, yet it has the peculiar and constant error of being inore moved and excited by affirmatives than by negatives, whereas it should duly and equally yield to both. But, on the contrary, in the raising of true axioms, negative instances have the greatest force." A. 17, 18. 12. The light of the understanding is not a dry or pure light, but drenched in the will and affections, and the intellect forms the sciences accordingly; for what men desire should be true, they are most inclined to believe. The understanding there fore rejects things difficult, as being impatient of enquiry, things just and solid, because they limit hope, and the deeper mysteries of nature, through superstition; it rejects the light of experience, through pride and haughtiness, as disdaining the mind should be meanly and waveringly employed; it excludes paradoxes for fear of the vulgar. And thus the affections tinge and infect the understanding numberless ways, and sometimes imperceptibly." p. 20. (To be concluded in our next.) CXXII. 493 THE PLEADER'S Guide, HE first part of this poem ap THE pears to have been published a considerable time since (though it has escaped our notice) for which the editor apologizes in his preface, and then subjoins the following syllabus of the present LECTURES by Mr. SURREBUTTER. "After so long an interval between the publication of the first part of the late Mr. S-rr-b-tt-r's Professional Lec ture, and the appearance of the se cond course, many of his readers might reasonably expect that the editor should, at least, have had the grace to make some sort of excuse for having so long neglected to fulfil his engagements to the public: while others, perhaps, will not scruple to think it would be far more becoming in him to make a suitable apology for publishing this poem at all; and in truth, the editor is very much inclined to be of the latter opinion himself. "Ashowever, this second part is now published separately, after an interval of delay, by no means ill adapted to the true genius and character of the subject, it may not be deemed impertinent to remind the reader that Mr. S. in the outline of his plan, professed to demonstrate the decided superiority of the common law over the civil, with respect to some peculiar advantages, heretofore not fully considered; and from thence to proceed to the History of a Suit at Common Law, commencing with the Original Writ, and conducting his pupil regularly through the whole of the subsequent process in all its splendid varieties and modifications; and fi nishing the first book of his lectures with the parties' final appearance in court, upon the return of the Process io Outlawry. "The following pages, consisting of ten lectures, which compose the second part, resume the subject at the point where it rested, preserving the epic and didactic character of the |