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talk but a tinkling cymbal where there is no love. The Latin adage meeteth with it a little : Magna civitas, magna solitudo'-[' Great city, great solitude']; because in a great town friends are scattered, so that there is not that fellowship, for the most part, which is in less neighbourhoods; but we may go farther, and affirm most truly, that it is a mere and miserable solitude to want true friends, without which the world is but a wilderness; and, even in this scene also of solitude, whosoever, in the frame of his nature and affections, is unfit for friendship, he taketh it of the beast, and not from humanity.

A principal fruit of friendship is the ease and discharge of the fulness of the heart, which passions of all kinds do cause and induce. We know diseases of stoppings and suffocations are the most dangerous in the body, and it is not much otherwise in the mind: you may take sarza to open the liver, steel to open the spleen, flour of sulphur for the lungs, castoreum for the brain; but no receipt openeth the heart but a true friend, to whom you may impart griefs, joys, fears, hopes, suspicions, counsels, and whatsoever lieth upon the heart to oppress it, in a kind of civil shrift or confession.

It is a strange thing to observe how high a rate great kings and monarchs do set upon this fruit of friendship whereof we speak so great, as they purchase it many times at the hazard of their own safety and greatness for princes, in regard of the distance of their fortune from that of their subjects and servants, cannot gather this fruit, except, to make themselves capable thereof, they raise some persons to be, as it were, companions, and almost equals to themselves, which many times sorteth to inconvenience. The modern languages give unto such persons the name of favourites, or privadoes, as if it were matter of grace or conversation; but the Roman name attaineth the true use and cause thereof, naming them participes curarum' ['participators in cares']; for it is that which tieth the knot and we see plainly that this hath been done, not by weak and passionate princes only, but by the wisest and most politic that ever reigned, who have oftentimes joined to themselves some of their servants, whom both themselves have called friends, and allowed others likewise to call them in the same manner, using the word which is received between private men.

It is not to be forgotten what Comineus observeth of his first master, Duke Charles the Hardy-namely, that he would communicate his secrets with none; and, least of all, those secrets which troubled him most. Whereupon he goeth on, and saith, that towards his latter time, that closeness did impair and a little perish his understanding. Surely Comineus might have made the same judgment also, if it had pleased him, of his second master, Louis XI., whose closeness was indeed his tormentor. The parable of Pythagoras is dark, but true, 'Cor ne edito'-['Eat not the heart.'] Certainly, if a man would give it a hard phrase, those that want friends to open themselves unto, are cannibals of their own hearts; but one thing is most admirable (wherewith I will conclude this first fruit of friendship), which is, that this communicating of a man's self to his friend, works two contrary effects, for it redoubleth joys, and cutteth griefs in halves; for there is no man that imparteth his joys to his friend, but he joyeth the more, and no man that imparteth his griefs to his friend, but he grieveth the less. So that it is, in truth, of operation upon a man's mind of like virtue as the alchymists use to attribute to their stone for man's body, that it worketh all contrary effects, but still to the good and benefit of nature; but yet, without praying in aid of alchymists, there is a manifest image of this in the ordinary course of nature; for, in bodies, union strengtheneth and cherisheth any natural action, and, on the other side, weakeneth and

dulleth any violent impression-and even so is it of minds.

The second fruit of friendship is healthful and sorereign for the understanding, as the first is for the affections; for friendship maketh indeed a fair day in the affections from storm and tempests, but it maketh daylight in the understanding, out of darkness and confusion of thoughts. Neither is this to be understood only of faithful counsel, which a man receiveth from his friend; but before you come to that, certain it is, that whosoever hath his mind fraught with many thoughts, his wits and understanding do clarify and break up, in the communicating and discoursing with another: he tosseth his thoughts more easily-he marshalleth them more orderly-he seeth how they look when they are turned into words -finally, he waxeth wiser than himself; and that more by an hour's discourse than by a day's meditation. It was well said by Themistocles to the king of Persia, That speech was like cloth of Arras, opened and put abroad' whereby the imagery doth appear in figure, whereas in thoughts they lie but as in packs. Neither is this second fruit of friendship, in opening the understanding, restrained only to such friends as are able to give a man counsel (they indeed are best), but even without that a man learneth of himself, and bringeth his own thoughts to light, and whetteth his wits as against a stone, which itself cuts not. In a word, a man were better relate himself to a statue or picture, than to suffer his thoughts to pass in smother. Add now, to make this second fruit of friendship complete, that other point which lieth more open, and falleth within vulgar observation-which is faithful counsel from a friend. Heraclitus saith well, in one of his enigmas, 'Dry light is ever the best; and certain it is, that the light that a man receiveth by counsel from another, is drier and purer than that which cometh from his own understanding and judgment, which is ever infused and drenched in his affections and customs. So as there is as much difference between the counsel that a friend giveth, and that a man giveth himself, as there is between the counsel of a friend and of a flatterer; for there is no such flatterer as is a man's self, and there is no such remedy against flattery of a man's self as the liberty of a friend. Counsel is of two sorts; the one concerning manners, the other concerning business: for the first, the best preservative to keep the mind in health is the faithful admonition of a friend. The calling of a man's self to a strict account, is a medicine sometimes too piere ing and corrosive; reading good books of morality is a little flat and dead; observing our faults in others is sometimes improper for our case; but the best receipt (best, I say, to work, and best to take) is the admonition of a friend. It is a strange thing to behold what gross errors and extreme absurdities many (espe cially of the greater sort) do commit, for want of a friend to tell them of them, to the great damage both of their fame and fortune: for, as St James saith, they are as men that look sometimes into a glass, and presently forget their own shape and favour:' as for business, a man may think, if he will, that two eyes see no more than one; or, that a gamester seeth always more than a looker-on; or, that a man in anger is as wise as he that hath said over the four-and-twenty letters; or, that a musket may be shot off as well upon the arm as upon a rest; and such other fond and high imaginations, to think himself all in all: but when all is done, the help of good counsel is that which setteth business straight; and if any man think that he will take counsel, but it shall be by pieces; asking counsel in one business of one man, and in another business of another man; it is as well (that is to say, better, perhaps, than if he asked none at all), but he runneth two dangers; one, that he shall not be faithfully counselled-for it is a rare thing, except it be

from a perfect and entire friend, to have counsel given, but such as shall be bowed and crooked to some ends which he hath that giveth it; the other, that he shall have counsel given, hurtful and unsafe (though with good meaning), and mixed partly of mischief and partly of remedy-even as if you would call a physician, that is thought good for the cure of the disease you complain of, but is unacquainted with your body -and therefore, may put you in a way for present cure, but overthroweth your health in some other kind, and so cure the disease, and kill the patient: but a friend, that is wholly acquainted with a man's estate, will beware, by furthering any present business, how he dasheth upon other inconvenience and, therefore, rest not upon scattered counsels, for they will rather distract and mislead, than settle and direct.

diseases of the mind-sometimes purging the ill humours, sometimes opening the obstructions, sometimes helping the digestion, sometimes increasing appetite, sometimes healing the wounds and ulcerations thereof, and the like; and I will therefore conclude with the chief reason of all, which is, that it disposeth the constitution of the mind not to be fixed or settled in the defects thereof, but still to be capable and susceptible of reformation. For the unlearned man knoweth not what it is to descend into himself, and call himself to account; nor the pleasure of that most pleasant life, which consists in our daily feeling ourselves become better. The good parts he hath, he will learn to show to the full, and use them dexterously, but not much to increase them: the faults he hath, he will learn how to hide and colour them, but not much to amend them; like an ill mower, that mows on still and never whets his scythe. Whereas, with the learned man it fares otherwise, that he doth ever intermix the correction and amendment of his mind with the use and employment thereof.

[Books and Ships Compared.1

If the invention of the ship was thought so noble, which carrieth riches and commodities from place to place, and consociateth the most remote regions in participation of their fruits, how much more are letters to be magnified, which, as ships, pass through the vast seas of time, and make ages so distant participate of the wisdom, illuminations, and inventions, the one of the other!

[Studies.]

After these two noble fruits of friendship (peace in the affections, and support of the judgment), followeth the last fruit, which is, like the pomegranate, full of many kernels-I mean, aid and bearing a part in all actions and occasions. Here, the best way to represent to life the manifold use of friendship, is to cast and see how many things there are which a man cannot do himself; and then it will appear that it was a sparing speech of the ancients, to say that a friend is another himself; for that a friend is far more than himself.' Men have their time, and die many times in desire of some things which they principally take to heart; the bestowing of a child, the finishing of a work, or the like. If a man have a true friend, he may rest almost secure that the care of those things will continue after him; so that a man hath, as it were, two lives in his desires. A man hath a body, and that body is confined to a place; but where friendship is, all offices of life are, as it were, granted to him Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for and his deputy; for he may exercise them by his ability. Their chief use for delight is in privateness friend. How many things are there which a man and retiring; for ornament, is in discourse; and for cannot, with any face or comeliness, say or do himself? ability, is in the judgment and disposition of business; A man can scarce allege his own merits with modesty, for expert men can execute, and perhaps judge of parmuch less extol them; a man cannot sometimes brook ticulars, one by one; but the general counsels, and the to supplicate or beg; and a number of the like: but plots and marshalling of affairs, come best from those all these things are graceful in a friend's mouth, which that are learned. To spend too much time in studies, are blushing in a man's own. So, again, a man's per- is sloth; to use them too much for ornament, is son hath many proper relations which he cannot put affectation; to make judgment wholly by their rules, off. A man cannot speak to his son but as a father; is the humour of a scholar; they perfect nature, and to his wife but as a husband; to his enemy but upon are perfected by experience-for natural abilities are terms: whereas a friend may speak as the case re-like natural plants, that need pruning by study; and quires, and not as it sorteth with the person. But to studies themselves do give forth directions too much at enumerate these things were endless: I have given large, except they be bounded in by experience. Crafty the rule, where a man cannot fitly play his own part; men contemn studies, simple men admire them, and if he have not a friend, he may quit the stage. wise men use them; for they teach not their own use; but that is a wisdom without them, and above them, won by observation. Read not to contradict and confute, nor to believe and take for granted, nor to find talk and discourse, but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested: that is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but not curiously; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention. Some books also may be read by deputy, and extracts made of them by others; but that would be only in the less important arguments, and the meaner sort of books; else distilled books are, like common distilled waters, flashy things. Reading maketh a full man, conference a ready man, and writing an exact man; and, therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a great memory; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit; and if he read little, he had need have much cunning, to seem to know that he doth not.

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[Uses of Knowledge.]

Learning taketh away the wildness, barbarism, and fierceness of men's minds; though a little of it doth rather work a contrary effect. It taketh away all levity, temerity, and insolency, by copious suggestion of all doubts and difficulties, and acquainting the mind to balance reasons on both sides, and to turn back the first offers and conceits of the kind, and to accept of nothing but [what is] examined and tried. It taketh away all vain admiration of anything, which is the root of all weakness: for all things are admired, either because they are new, or because they are great. If a man meditate upon the universal frame of nature, the earth with men upon it (the divineness of souls excepted) will not seem more than an ant-hill, where some ants carry corn, and some carry their young, and some go empty, and all to and fro a little heap of dust. It taketh away or mitigateth fear of death, or adverse fortune: which is one of the greatest impediments of virtue, and imperfection of manners. Virgil did excellently and profoundly couple the knowledge of causes and the conquest of all fears together. It were too long to go over the particular remedies which learning doth minister to all the

SIR WALTER RALEIGH.

In the brilliant constellation of great men which adorned the reigns of Elizabeth and James, one of

*This expression is given in the original in Latin.

the most distinguished of those who added eminence in literature to high talent for active business, was SIR WALTER RALEIGH, a man whose character will

whom she sent to attend the Duke of Anjou back to the Netherlands, after refusing that nobleman her hand. In 1584 he again joined in an adventure for the discovery and settlement of unknown countries. With the help of his friends, two ships were sent out in quest of gold mines, to that part of North America now called Virginia. Raleigh himself was not with these vessels; the commodities brought home by which produced so good a return, that the owners were induced to fit out, for the next year, another fleet of seven ships, under the command of Raleigh's kinsman, Sir Richard Grenville. The attempt made on this occasion to colonise America proved an utter failure, and, after a second trial, the enterprise was given up. This expedition is said to have been the means of introducing tobacco into England, and also of making known the potato, which was first cultivated on Raleigh's land in Ireland.

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always make him occupy a prominent place in the history of his country. He was born in 1552, at Hayes Farm, in Devonshire, of an ancient family; and from his youth was distinguished by great intellectual acuteness, but still more by a restless and adventurous disposition. He became a soldier at the age of seventeen; fought for the Protestant cause in the civil wars of France and the Netherlands; and afterwards, in 1579, accompanied his half brother, Sir Humphrey Gilbert, on a voyage to Newfoundland. This expedition proved unfortunate, but by familiarising him with a maritime life, had probably much influence in leading him to engage in those subsequent expeditions by which he rendered himself famous. În 1580 he assisted in suppressing the Earl of Desmond's rebellion in Ireland, where he obtained an estate, and was for some time governor of Cork. After this, having occasion to visit London, he attached himself to the court, and with the aid of a handsome person and winning address, contrived to insinuate himself into the favour of Elizabeth. A well-known anecdote illustrates the gallantry and tact by which he was characterised. One day, when he was attending the queen on a walk, she came to a miry part of the road, and for a moment hesitated to proceed. Raleigh, perceiving this, instantly pulled off his rich plush cloak, and, by spreading it before her feet, enabled her to pass on unsoiled. This mark of attention delighted the queen, from whom, as it has been facetiously remarked, his cloak was the means of procuring for him many a good suit. Raleigh was one of the courtiers

Hayes Farm-the Birthplace of Raleigh. Meanwhile, the prosperity of Raleigh at the English court continued to increase. Elizabeth knighted him in 1584; and, moreover, by granting monopolies, and an additional Irish estate, conferred on him solid marks of her favour. In return for these benefits, he zealously and actively exerted himself for the defence of her majesty's dominions against the Spaniards in 1588; having not only been one of those patriotic volunteers who sailed against the formidable and far-famed Armada in the English channel, but, as a member of her majesty's council of war, contributed, by his advice and experience, to the maturing of those defensive arrangements which led to the discomfiture of the enemy. Next year, he accompanied a number of his countrymen who went to aid the expelled king of Portugal in an attempt to regain his kingdom from the Spaniards. | After his return, Elizabeth continued her largesses to him, till at length his troublesome importunities drew from her the question, When, Sir Walter, will you cease to be a beggar?' With his usual tact, he replied, When your gracious majesty ceases to be a benefactor.' By taking bribes, and otherwise | abusing his power and the influence which he had at court, he became unpopular with the nation at large.

About this time he exerted himself to reduce to practice an idea thrown out by Montaigne, by setting up an 'office of address,' intended to serve

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the purposes now executed chiefly by literary and philosophical societies. The description of this scheme, given by Sir William Petty, affords a striking picture of the difficulties and obstacles which | lay in the way of men of study and inquiry two centuries ago. It seems, says Sir William, to have been a plan by which the wants and desires of all learned men might be made known to each other, where they might know what is already done in the business of learning, what is at present in doing, and what is intended to be done; to the end that, by such a general communication of designs and mutual assistance, the wits and endeavours of the world may no longer be as so many scattered coals, which, having no union, are soon quenched, whereas, being but laid together, they would have yielded a comfortable light and heat. For the present condition of men [in the early part of the seventeenth century] is like a field where a battle having been lately fought, we see many legs, arms, and organs of sense, lying here and there, which, for want of conjunction, and a soul to quicken and enliven them, are fit for nothing but to feed the ravens and infect the air; so we see many wits and ingenuities dispersed up and down the world, whereof some are now labouring to do what is already done, and puzzling themselves to re-invent what is already invented; others we see quite stuck fast in difficulties for default of a few directions, which some other man, might he be met withal, both could and would most easily give him. Again, one man requires a small sum of money to carry on some design that requires it, and there is perhaps another who has twice as much ready to bestow upon the same design; but these two having no means to hear the one of the other, the good work intended and desired by both parties does utterly perish and come to nothing.'

When visiting his Irish estates after his return from Portugal, Raleigh formed or renewed with Spenser an aquaintance which ripened into intimate friendship. He introduced the poet to Elizabeth, and otherwise benefited him by his patronage and encouragement; for which favour Spenser has acknowledged his obligation in his pastoral entitled Colin Clout's Come Home Again,' where Raleigh is celebrated under the title of the 'Shepherd of the Ocean,' and also in a letter to him, prefixed to the Faery Queen,' explanatory of the plan and design of that poem. In 1592, Sir Walter engaged in one of those predatory naval expeditions which, in Elizabeth's reign, were common against the enemies of England; a fleet of thirteen ships, besides two of her majesty's men-ofwar, being intrusted to his command. This armament was destined to attack Panama, and intercept the Spanish plate fleet, but, having been recalled by Elizabeth soon after sailing, came back with a single prize. On his return, Raleigh incurred the displeasure of the virgin queen by an amour with one of her maids of honour; for which offence, though he married the lady, he suffered imprisonment for some months. While banished from the court, he undertook, at his own expense, in 1595, an expedition to Guiana, concerning whose riches many wonderful tales were then current. He, however, accomplished nothing beyond taking a formal possession of the country in the queen's name. After coming back to England, he published, in 1596, a work entitled Discovery of the Large, Rich, and Beautiful Empire of Guiana: this production Hume has very unjustly characterised as 'full of the grossest and most palpable lies that were ever attempted to be imposed on the credulity of mankind.' It would appear that he now regained the queen's favour, since we find him holding, in the same year, a command in the expedition against Cadiz, under the Earl of Essex and Lord Effingham. In the successful attack on that town, his bravery, as

well as prudence, was very conspicuous. In 1597, he was rear-admiral in the expedition which sailed under Essex to intercept the Spanish West-India fleet; and by capturing Fayal, one of the Azores, before the arrival of the commander-in-chief, gave great offence to the earl, who considered himself robbed of the glory of the action. A temporary reconciliation was effected; but Raleigh afterwards heartily joined with Cecil in promoting the downfall of Essex, and was a spectator of his execution from a window in the Armoury. On the accession of James I., which followed soon after, the prosperity of Raleigh came to an end, a dislike against him having previously been instilled by Cecil into the royal ear. Through the malignant scheming of the same hypocritical minister, he was accused of conspiring to dethrone the king, and place the crown on the head of Arabella Stuart; and likewise of attempting to excite sedition, and to establish popery by the aid of foreign powers. A trial for high treason ensued, and upon the paltriest evidence, he was condemned by a servile jury. Sir Edward Coke, who was then attorney-general, abused him on this occasion in violent and disgraceful terms, bestowing upon him freely such epithets as viper, damnable atheist, the most vile and execrable traitor that ever lived, monster, and spider of hell. Raleigh defended himself with such temper, eloquence, and strength of reasoning, that some even of his enemies were convinced of his innocence, and all parties were ashamed of the judgment pronounced. He was, however, reprieved, and instead of being executed, was committed to the Tower, in which his wife was permitted to bear him company. During the twelve years of his imprisonment, he wrote the chief portion of his works, especially the History of the World, of which only a part was finished, comprehending the period from the creation to the downfall of the Macedonian empire, about 170 years before Christ. This was published in 1614. The excellent way in which he treats the histories of Greece and Rome, has excited just regret that so great a portion of the work is devoted to Jewish and Rabbinical learning-subjects which have withdrawn too much of the author's attention from more interesting departments of his scheme. The learning and genius of Raleigh, who, in the words of Hume, being educated amidst naval and military enterprises, had surpassed in the pursuits of literature even those of the most recluse and sedentary lives,' have excited much admiration; but Mr D'Israeli* has lately attempted to diminish the wonder, by asserting, on the authority of Ben Jonson and a manuscript in the Lansdowne collection, that our historian was materially aided by the contributions of his learned friends. Jonson told Drummond of Hawthornden that Raleigh esteemed more fame than conscience. The best wits in England were employed in making his history; Ben himself had written a piece to him of the Punic war, which he altered and set in his book.' According to the manuscript above-mentioned, a still more important helper was a 'Dr Robert Burrel, rector of Northwald, in the county of Norfolk, who was a great favourite of Sir Walter Raleigh, and had been his chaplain. All, or the greatest part, of the drudgery of Sir Walter's history, for criticisms, chronology, and reading Greek and Hebrew authors, was performed by him for Sir Walter.' Mr Tytler, in his recent Life of Raleigh,'t has, however, shown that there is no good reason for supposing Raleigh's obligations to his friends to have been greater than those of literary men in general, when similarly circum

* Curiosities of Literature, 9th edit., vol. v., p. 233. † Page 457, note G.

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stanced; and, moreover, that it was not left for Mr D'Israeli to discover the fact, that Raleigh had obtained such assistance from the individuals whom he specifies.

Both in style and matter, this celebrated work is vastly superior to all the English historical productions which had previously appeared. Its style, though partaking of the faults of the age, in being frequently stiff and inverted, has less of these defects than the diction of any other writer of the time. Mr Tytler, with justice, commends it as 'vigorous, purely English, and possessing an antique richness of ornament, similar to what pleases us when we see some ancient priory or stately manor-house, and compare it with our more modern mansions.' The work,' he adds, "is laborious without being heavy, learned without being dry, acute and ingenious without degenerating into the subtle but trivial distinctions of the schoolmen. Its narrative is clear and spirited, and the matter collected from the most authentic sources. The opinions of the author on state-policy, on the causes of great events, on the different forms of government, on naval or military tactics, on agriculture, commerce, manufactures, and other sources of national greatness, are not the mere echo of other minds, but the results of experience, drawn from the study of a long life spent in constant action and vicissitude, in various climates and countries, and from personal labour in offices of high trust and responsibility. But perhaps its most striking feature is the sweet tone of philosophic melancholy which pervades the whole. Written in prison during the quiet evening of a tempestuous life, we feel, in its perusal, that we are the companions of a superior mind, nursed in contemplation, and chastened and improved by sorrow, in which the bitter recollection of injury, and the asperity of resentment, have passed away, leaving only the heavenly lesson, that all is vanity."

Paradise lay; and of one of these rivers, which afterward doth divide itself into four branches, we are sure that the partition is at the very border of the garden itself. For it is written, that out of Eden went a river to water the garden, and from thence it was divided, and became into four heads. Now, whether the word in the Latin translation (inde), from thence, be referred to Eden itself, or to Paradise, yet the division and branching of those rivers must be in the north or south side of the very garden (if the rivers run, as they do, north and south); and therefore these rivers yet remaining, and Eden manifestly known, there could be no such defacing by the flood, as is supposed. Furthermore, as there is no likeli hood that the place could be so altered, as future ages know it not, so is there no probability that either these rivers were turned out of their courses, or new rivers created by the flood, which were not; or that the flood, as aforesaid, by a violent motion, when it began to decrease, was the cause of high hills or deep valleys. For what descent of waters could there be in a spherical and round body, wherein there is nor high nor low? seeing that any violent force of waters is either by the strength of wind, by descent from a higher to a lower, or by the ebb or flood of the sea. But that there was any wind (whereby the seas are most enraged), it appeareth not; rather the contrary is probable; for it is written, 'Therefore God made a wind

to

pass upon the earth, and the waters ceased.' So as it appeareth not that until the waters sank there was any wind at all, but that God afterward, out of his goodness, caused the wind to blow, to dry up the abundant slime and mud of the earth, and make the land more firm, and to cleanse the air of thick vapours and unwholesome mists; and this we know by | experience, that all downright rains do evermore disand level the swelling and mountainous billow of the sever the violence of outrageous winds, and beat down sea; for any ebbs and flows there could be none, when We shall commence our quotations from Raleigh face of the earth, and when there were no indraughts, the waters were equal and of one height over all the with one in which the merits of the book are not re-bays, or gulfs, to receive a flood, or any descent or presented, but which is instructive, as showing the childishness with which men argued in those days upon subjects they understood not, and could not

understand.

That the flood hath not utterly defaced the marks of

Paradise, nor caused hills in the earth.

violent falling of waters in the round form of the earth and waters, as aforesaid; and therefore it seemeth most agreeable to reason, that the waters rather stood in a quiet calm, than that they moved with any raging or overbearing violence. And for a more direct proof that the flood made no such destroying alteration, Joseph avoweth, that one of those pillars erected by Seth, the third from Adam, was to be seen in his days; which pillars were set up above 1426 years before the flood, counting Seth to be an hundred years old at the erection of them, and Joseph himself to have lived some forty or fifty years after Christ; of whom, although there be no cause to believe all that he wrote, yet that, which he avouched of his own time, cannot (without great derogation) be called in question. And therefore it may be possible, that some foundation or ruin thereof might well be seen: now, that such pillars were raised by Seth, all antiquity hath avowed. It is also written in Berosus (to whom, although I give little credit, yet I cannot condemn him in all), that the city of Enoch, built by Cain, about the mountains of Lebanus, was not defaced by length of time; yea, the ruins thereof, Annius (who commented upon that invented fragment) saith, were to be seen in his days, who lived in the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella of Castile; and if these his words be not true, then was he exceeding impudent. For,

And first, whereas it is supposed by Aug. Chrysamensis, that the flood hath altered, deformed, or rather annihilated this place, in such sort, as no man can find any mark or memory thereof (of which opinion there were others, also, ascribing to the flood the cause of these high mountains, which are found on all the earth over, with many other strange effects); for my own opinion, I think neither the one nor the other to be true. For, although I cannot deny but that the face of Paradise was, after the flood, withered and grown old, in respect of the first beauty (for both the ages of men and the nature of all things time hath changed), yet, if there had been no sign of any such place, or if the soil and seat had not remained, then would not Moses, who wrote of Paradise 850 years after the flood, have described it so particularly, and the prophets, long after Moses, would not have made so often mention thereof. And though the very garden itself were not then to be found, but that the flood, and other accidents of time, made it one common field and pas-speaking of this city of Enoch, he concludeth in this ture with the land of Eden, yet the place is still the same, and the rivers still remain the same rivers. By two of which (never doubted of), to wit, Tigris and Euphrates, we are sure to find in what longitude

* Pp. 339 and 346.

sort:-Cujus maximæ et ingentis molis fundamenta visuntur, et vocatur ab incolis regionis, civitas Cain, ut nostri mercatores et perigrini referunt'—[' The foundation of which huge mass is now to be seen, and the place is called by the people of that region the City of Cain, as both our strangers and merchants report."]

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