Bulk and Selvage of the World, To the reader
To the Reader.
IF I may meaſure others by my ſelf, 'tis a more tickliſh thing to pen a Preface, than 'tis to write a Book. For when ever I lay hands on a New piece, as ſoon as I have once ſpell'd the Great letters of its Name, I am wont haſtily to take forth to the Foreſpeech for the Reader, as thinking that to be the handle, that I am to hold the Book by, which, according as I reliſh or miſlike, oftentimes ſo fares the whole with me. For if I find the man has it not in him to erect a Scheme in the Say that he has for me there, I am ſhrewdly given to miſtruſt, that he will never conjure much in the Book that comes after: or when the firſt Greeting me is ſowre or faint, I am ready to fear the after treat will be none of the ſweeteſt or the winningeſt. Whether others conne Books with theſe kind of reckonings, I can't tell; but while I can tell my ſelf that I do ſo, it ſtands me in hand to be a little wary of tripping upon ſuch ſlippery ground. Now to ſpeak truth, all the tale that I have to tell the Reader is but this: That finding in my ſelf a kind of forwardneſs towards Philoſophy, and mainly to that part of it which takes knowledge of Bodies; as which, of all others, I found I could receive moſt helps and furtherance in, from thoſe ſpreading lights and wealthy ſtores, with which the Royal Society at home and others abroad, ſet into the way by their ſhowing and enheartned to go on by their works, had both embelliſht and enricht it, I let my mind alone to take its full ſwing in the Conning of Bodies, this and that; and forthwith or ere I could well help it, I fell a Roving, and plung'd out from what I was medling with and toſſing of, to another thing that was earlyer and Bulkier, and to ſomwhat ſtill that was more betimes and more of Boak; and being quite loſt in a wilde and a frightful on and on, I'een took back again where I was, and fell to unravel the thing that was too big to be fathom'd, that I might make it little enough for my mind to grapple with: but I was as unluckie at leſſening and narrowing as I had been before at widening and bigning. As the one had wrackt and limm'd my thoughts, with endleſs tenters and boundleſs retchings out; ſo had the other nipt in my ſoul and ſhrivell'd up my thoughts, with reſtleſs gripes and unwearyed parings off: ſo that I had both loſt and benothing'd my ſelf in the leſſenings made within my ſelf, as I had loſt and bewildred my ſelf in the ſcopes ſtill left without my ſelf. Nor could I be at reſt in my mind, till I had tryed, whether I could not cut off Boundleſsneſs and endleſsneſs, ſo as at length I might have eaſe, to find, that Body, which I had to do withal, had both beginning and end, an inmoſt part and an outmoſt whole, as I my ſelf had: and ſo the remarks and experiments that I was to make, were not upon Bodies that carried Boundleſsneſs in their bellies, & were themſelves a ſwimming in a boundleſs gulf, ſo that I muſt needs have my thoughts to dance after them in an endleſs round, or launch into a boundleſs width; but that I might ſettle here or pitch down there, and tell the firſt and ken the laſt, and cope with the biggeſt and the leaſt: and as ſoon as I got to the ſpring head of Laſtingneſs, I ſate me down and drank a health to ſweet reſt, and bliſst my ſelf that I was there; and when I came at the Selvedge of Bulk, I took heart afreſh to think with my ſelf, that there was all, and nothing at all beyond, and I need weary my ſelf with no more wandrings in a waſt, but might come home again fair and ſoft, and faſten on this or that, or little or great, as I thought beſt, to ſet a mark on or make a Tryal of. For then I ſaw that all was not wood within a wood: but me-thought the world was a curious Frame of well ſet Bodies, the beginning of which the leaſt of which, and the whole of which, might all be come at.
Thus having ſhaken off the things I could never graſp, and taken Body by the right handle, I found I was freer to think, and better at eaſe to work: and deeming there were more in the world that were of my make, I did not know but they might think, and do ſo too; and it was but a friendly part to ſet any man into his way, that I thought was out of it: and therefore what I thought I writ, and what I writ, the Reader ſees is comen abroad.
Which if it takes, I ſhall not miſlike it, that another man has found that which he lookt for; and if it does not, the worſt on't is but this, that that which has not yet been made out by any man, nor has it been by me. And whatever ill luck betides it, I have no body elſe to blame for it; for I writ it all at home, and 'twas given at my ſelf. And to tell troth, I don't love to ask another man, whether my Child be not pretty or hopeful; for I think, that muſt needs be a crotchet piece of unluckyneſs, that is not fit to be Printed if a friend has it to read over for that end, or to be prais'd, if another man has it to make a New ſong upon.
But if any man ask me what I think on't my ſelf? I anſwer, The very ſame that I think of other mens writings, and that is, that they are the writings of Man and nothing more, writing and miſwriting mingled together. Only I can ſay the Writer indeed is neither Green nor Grey. So though the Reader may fear he ſhall find little that is full ripe, I hope he will find leſs that is altogether raw. As I think otherwiſe from what I did ſome years agoe, ſo happily I may think otherwiſe from what I do ſome years hence, even about ſome things here ſpoken to: and therefore I love to ſpeak ſoft for my own ſake as well as others. I do believe too if I had kept it longer I could have drawn it up better, but that bare no ſway with me to do ſo; for then the only day of its coming into the world muſt have been the day of my going out of it. Notwithſtanding though I don't believe 'tis the beſt that can be done, or the beſt that I could do my ſelf, yet 'tis rid of as many miſlikes as I could ſtrike out at twice reading, and I did not think it worth while to read it again to find more. As 'tis, I neither reckon it my God nor my Golden Calf, nor am I fond on't or aſhamd on't. Should I ſay I had ſlighty thoughts of it, I can't tell how it would be wit or good manners to put it into the hands of my Betters; and if I give out I ſet highly by it, I ſhould lacken it as much by making ſuch a Fondling the Penman of it. However the management of it may ſeem weak or low, I am ſure the drift and ſcope was manly & lofty. There being no lower nor other aims in it, than that we might not think amiſs of that Almighty Being which has made us, nor of the ſundry Beings he has made, that we may neither dote nor dare, ſtragle nor be loſt: but may be led by ſuch a clue of underſtanding, & ſoftned by ſuch a baſhfulneſs of knowledge, that we may be wiſe and awful both in one; that the knowledg of things may be leſs a wearineſs to the fleſh, and that thoughts of things without us may leſs gall that Being within us; that, as God beholding what he had made, ſaid with himſelf that all was good, we may ſee it & ſay it too, & love the ſpring from whence they came, while we wonder at the wiſdom by which they are; worſhipping the ſame with a more becoming dread, a fuller enlightned mind, freer out-goings of heart, ſteddyer & cloſer thoughts about things that he has made more eaſeful to the mind, and better ſorted in it: that ſo giving to God his right, we may take to our ſelves our own reſt.
In the doing of which, the freedom that I have taken, I give too. Think and let think, are engraven upon my very ſoul. And I ſhall never think amiſs of the Reader for not being of my mind, any more than I do of thoſe Learned men which I thought meet ſomwhere to name. Which I did, not from any itching to thwart them: but I thought it would ſpeak nothing of Breeding, to look full on a Great man ſtanding in my way, and not to vouchſafe him worth Doffing to, or to write my ſelf of another mind from what ſome men of Name are, whoſe reaſons for what they hold have fallen into a many good hands, without I ſhould alſo ſay why I am not of their mind for their reaſon. But as for any leſſenings of them, who have done huge well, as I think, elſewhere, and may have done well enough, as others think, where I take them to be out; 'tis ſo much againſt my meaning and the very Grain of me to let any ſuch fall from my Pen, that if in any thing I ſo much as but ſeem to do it, 'tis all my unwarineſs, and nothing of my aim. And I do think my ſelf ſo much the more bound to take heed how I handle the good name of others, by how mnch the more I ſee, how an ill will'd and frampled waſpiſhneſs has broken forth, to the royling and firing of the age wherein we live, and for ought I can foretel, even thoſe too, that are coming after.
Indeed, when I read ſuch things as are ſpoken to, further on, in a late Writer, I can't for my life but think, he may miſtake a little, as you and I and all men do, and have done & ſhall do. And that thereupon he would not willingly be call'd Names, ſuch as can't be ſpoken without a ſtinking breath, nor written but with a brazen pen, nor ſpell'd but with the letters of the Dog and the Gooſe, the grinning and the hiſſing. And remembring 'tis good Bible, Do as you would be done by, I can eaſily let go my ſelf in ſome forward wiſhes leading to ſelf love in behalf of ſuch a one, heartily beſpeaking him, for Gods ſake, for that of ſelf, & the Commonwealth of Learning, that hereafter we might read writings with other ſentences beſides thoſe of Condemnation, with other wit beſides that which lies in the forehead, and where all the Daſhes of the pen may not be ſtroaks upon men; as knowing that ſuch Doomeſday Books, may ſooneſt be burnt themſelves, which are readieſt to enflame others.
I believe no man wiſhes with more earneſtneſs than I do, that all men of Learning and knowledg were men of kindneſs and ſweetneſs, & that ſuch as can out do others would outlove them too; eſpecially while ſelf bewhiſpers us, that it ſtands us all in hand to be forgiven as well as to forgive. The hardeſt things that I know, had their beginnings layd in the ſoftneſs and yieldingneſs of a kind of dew; and whoever would have all men ſtand up ſtiffly for what he holds, will find it beſt at length to lead them in thoſe eaſier paths of Nature. Sure I am, it would be more than a wonder to me, ſhould any ones ſight be better'd by ſpitting fire into clay & beſmearing eyes with it. For every mans mind is his Caſtle; and if it can't be taken by ſtrength of reaſon, the throwing in Granadoes, will be nothing but a ſmutty, ſtinking token to the world, that ill will would have done more miſchief, but weak Gear could not. So long as he who has but a teeming brain, may have leave to lay his eggs in his own neſt, which is built beyond the reach of every mans puddering pole, why ſhould the ears of all the neighborhood be dinn'd & grated with the Cackle, as if the whole world beſides were all Weaſils and Poulcats, vermine and Lurchers? I do verily bear my ſelf in hand, that if the humor of huffing be but a little further cocker'd & more warmed, the Leyden gown muſt needs take place of the Long robe at Cambridge & Oxford, inſtead of the ſide thing the thing by the ſide, and ſnicking and ſneeing will be nothing elſe in the world but writing of Book a la mode d' Angleterre. For ſo long as men have but unlike thinkings, and that will be as long as they have unlike faces, they muſt look for no better fare from a world of Bears and Scratchers, than firſt to be gall'd in the tendereſt part of their good name, and then to fall under the rods and axes of a cutting hate, and ill will ſet on fire. Were I but to whiſper to him of whom ſo many talk aloud, I ſhould rown him thus much in the ear, with all the heartineſs of a friend, that the next time he has left to bleſs us with his Day breaks, he would chuſe a ſofter quill to make his pen of; that the Reader at length might be as ready to have good thoughts for him, as he has been to have bad words for others.
As for the way of wording it, I know aforehand, 'tis not trim enough for theſe Gay days of ours; but dreſſing is none of my buſineſs. When I look at things, I can afford to overlook words, and I had rather ſpeak home than fair, nor do I care how blunt it be, ſo it be ſtrong. Every man has his way of writing and ſpeaking, and I have mine; which as I allow it to others, I may look it ſhould be allow'd me. Only tis like there is one thing which I may be blam'd for by many; and that is a kind of ſhineſs all along of thoſe borrowed words & gayneſſes, that Engliſhmen have pickt and cull…d from other Tongues, under the name of Choyce words and Sparkling ſayings. To which, after I have markt, how a greater man than I, in the ſame buſineſs of Bodies, has gone a good way towards it already, I mean the Learned Sir Kenhelm Digby, I have but thus much more to ſay, That thinking with my ſelf, how I an Engliſh man would write a Book in Engliſh tongue, I made it now and than a little of my care, to bring in ſo many words of that ſpeech, that the Book might thence be call'd Engliſh, without miſ-calling it. And indeed however our ſmoother tongued Neighbours may put in a claim for thoſe bewitcheries of ſpeech that flow from Gloſs and Chimingneſs; yet I verily believe that there is no tongue under heaven, that goes beyond our Engliſh for ſpeaking manly ſtrong and full. And if words be more to teach than tickle, as I reckon they are, our Mother tongue will get as much by ſpeaking fit and after kind, as it can looſe by faring rough and taking up the tongue to utter, and more than any elſe can gain by kembing better and running glibber. Beſides where I thought an outlandiſh word would be better taken, I have often for the Readers ſake ſet it down, as for my own ſake ſet an Engliſh by it, as thinking it unmeet to force my words upon another, in ſuch a piece as where I was to leave all free, as to the things I ſpake about. Only I thought it not amiſs, after I was once in, for the taking off that charge that ſome have too heedleſly layd upon our ſpeech, of a patcht up Tongue from Lands and kinreds round about, to ſhew, that a Book of thus many ſheets, might be underſtandingly and roundly written, in hail and clear Engliſh, without taking in from abroad, ſo much as twice ſo many words (and he that writes it in the moſt unbroken tongue upon earth, ſhall go near to light upon ſo many), unleſs where the ſame thing is fuller and kindlyer ſpoken by thoſe we have at home, taking but out the Cant words or terms of art, as they are call'd, which are rather tallies or ſpells in the tongue, that is, no bodies, becauſe every bodies, than the homebred vvords of any vvhatſoever; and are taken up and forged at will, by the whole ſtock of learned men in all Lands, wherewith to fiſh out one anothers meaning. And as for a tongue that borrows not nor ſpends, I believe 'tis no where to be found, or ever will be: all tongues through time being ſo far blended, that there are not any of thoſe now in the world in whole, that were at the great Speechbreak at Babel, any more than there would be the ſame bodies crew of atoms to thoſe Speakers now that they had then, or the ſame kinreds of men unmingled with Out-ſetters that were among them then, ſhould they have liv'd and jugg'd together to this day. Yet that ſome tongues loſe more than others at home, and get from abroad, is eaſie to be ſeen, and our own is enough to bring any man to believe it. And in earneſt, if the knack of borrowing, or robbing and pilfering rather, gets but a little further ground amongſt us, at the ſcantling it has done hitherto, it will in time to come be harder for an Engliſh-man to ſpeak his own tongue without mingling others with it, than to ſpeak a medly of ſundry others without bringing in his own. But for my part, I am of the mind, that the larding of Latine with High-Dutch, in what is written to the whole world, as ſome Germans in their Motley Books have already done, is even as praiſe-worthy, as the haling in of Latine or other tongues, when we are ſpeaking in Engliſh to Engliſh; and the rather, for that the words thus foiſted in, are of ſuch a ſort moſt an end, that if you look but to their riſts, and lay their betokenings to the things whoſe names they bear, I dare undertake twenty for one, that even the ſlighted and off-caſt words in the mouths of Handy-crafts-men and Earth-tillers ſhal be better drawn and more patly brought in. And inaſmuch as that Fellowſhip of Worthies in London, who are now embodied under the name of Royal, have given us already ſo many new things, and are daily ſtarting more, neither named nor known by thoſe before us; and for the enriching of the Engliſh tongue, as well as fulfilling of Englands ſtores, have thought fit their diſcoveries ſhould almoſt wholly come abroad in our own Speech, as they are happily made in our own Land: I think it will well become thoſe of us, who have a more hearty love for what is our own than wanton longings after what is others, to take light and life from ſuch happy beginnings, and either to fetch back ſome of our own words, that have been juſtled out in wrong that worſe from elſewhere might be hoiſted in, or elſe to call in from the fields and waters, ſhops and work-houſen, from the inbred ſtock of more homely women and leſs filching Thorps-men, that well-fraught world of words that anſwers works, by which all Learners are taught to do, and not to make a Clatter; And perhaps if we ſlip this tide, we ſhall never come again at ſuch a nicking one. For inaſmuch as almoſt the whole of thoſe words, that we ſpeak in things or knowledges of things that are not body, are taken from things that are body, and ſpoken in a borrowed meaning from thence, either as they have Beings from God, or a Suchneſs of being from our handy-work: ſo all the words about body and hangers on to body that we have to do with, are either ſuch as flow from or mainly well fall in with thoſe that are utter'd by Workmen, for ſuch things as are done by hand-deed. Now the Philoſophy of our day and Land being ſo much workful as the world knows it to be, methinks this of all times ſhould be the time, wherein, if ever, we ſhould gather up thoſe ſcatter'd words of ours that ſpeak works, rather than to ſuck in thoſe of learned air from beyond Sea, which are as far off ſometimes from the things they ſpeak, as they are from us to whom they are ſpoken.
Beſides, it may well be doubted, whether Latine can now be made ſo fit to ſet forth the things of a Working Philoſophy by, as our own Speech, or thoſe other of our Neighbours, who are with us carrying on that way of Doing. For we muſt know, that almoſt all the old pieces of good Latine that we draw by, have been taken up by that ſort of learning that is wont to be worded in the Schools, & ſpent in the ſetting to ſale of ſuch things as could beſt be glazed with the froth of ink, by the men of Cloſets. Whence he that is beſt skill'd in it, is ſo hard put to it, in the Kitchin, that Shop, and the Ship; and ever will be, though Plautus ſhould be as well underſtood as Tully. For the words that are every day running to and fro in the Chat of Workers, have not been gotten into Books and put aboard for other Lands, until this way of Knowing by Doing was ſtarted amongſt us. So that we and others of the Handed Philoſophers may either find better words among our own Yeomanry, for ſuch buſineſſes of workmanſhip as are already known by name, or at leaſt coin fitter for new ones in a likewiſeneſs to the old, than can be lent us from that Tongue wherein we know not how the Folks talkt in the Country, nor do any body elſe or ever ſhall do. Whereby too we ſhall not only vvith more eaſe and kindlineſs be underſtood by the Pains-taking men amongſt us, whoſe Crafts will be more helpful to an hail Philoſopher, than the Bookiſhneſs of others. But as Learnings being lockt up in the Tongues of the Schools, or Love's being lickt up in the more womanly ſimprings of the lips, and the ſmiling kiſſing ſpeeches of ſome others abroad, have been enough to enkindle in us a panting after, and fondneſs for ſome of thoſe Outlandiſh dynns: So if the works of our own men ſhall be ſhipt over by words of our own tongue, it may happily make others who have love enough for the things, to ſeek as much after our words, as we upon other ſcores have done after theirs; the firſt draught being Engliſh, name and thing, doing and ſpeaking. Which while we forbear to do, and ſnip here and ſnatch there from ſome of them, being as much beholden to them for new and handſom words, as they to us for freſh and uſeful things, the works are not more greatned by their ſpreading name, than the workers ſeem leſſened by the unluckineſs of the ſlur, That Engliſh-men can do by their own Hands, what they can't ſpeak in their own Tongues.