the birds what food the thickets yield;
Learn from the beasts the physic of the field:<44>
Thy arts of building from the bee receive;
Learn of the mole to plow, the worm to weave;
Learn from the little nautilus to sail,
Spread the thin oar and catch the driving gale.
Here too all forms of social union find,
And hence let reason, late instruct mankind:
Here subterranean works and cities see,
The towns aerial on the waving tree.
Learn each small people’s genius, policies;
The ants republic, and the realm of bees;
How those in common all their stores bestow,
And anarchy without confusion know,
And these for ever, tho’ a monarch reign,
Their sep’rate cells and properties maintain.
Mark what unvary’d laws preserve their state,
Laws wise as nature, and as fix’d as fate,
In vain thy reason finer webs shall draw,
Entangle justice in her net of law.
And right too rigid, harden into wrong,
Still for the strong too weak, the weak too strong.
Yet go! and thus o’er all the creatures sway,
Thus let the wiser make the rest obey,
And for those arts mere instinct could afford,
Be crown’d as monarchs, or as gods ador’d.
Essay on man, epist. III.a
Sixth instance.
VI. Add to this, that as it is from nature only that the real knowledge of nature can be learned, so the connexions of nature lie open to our view.b It is only because men have wilfully shut their eyes against<45> nature, and have vainly set themselves to devise or guess its methods of operation, without taking any assistance from nature it self, that natural knowledge has made such slow advances. Whence it comes about that men have at any time been misled into the foolish attempt of understanding nature by any other method, than by attending to it, and carefully observing it, is a question I shall not now enter upon. But so obvious are the greater part of nature’s connexions to all those who study nature, that so soon as the right, the only method of getting into its secrets was pursued, great improvements were quickly made in that knowledge; and all discoveries in it, after they are found out, appear so simple and so obvious, that one cannot help wondering how it came about that they were not sooner seen and observed.
Now nature, in order to put us into the right way of coming at real knowledge, has not only implanted in our minds an eager desire or thirst after knowledge, but likewise a strong disposition to emulate all the works of nature that fall more immediately under our cognisance, and in a manner to vie with nature in productions of our own. This disposition to emulate nature, as it adds considerable force to our desire of knowledge, so it serves to assist us in acquiring it; for it necessarily leads and prompts us to copy what is done by nature, and thus makes us attend very closely to the object or phenomenon we would imitate, and try experiments about it; by which means alone, it is obvious, any real knowledge can be acquired. But not only is the knowledge of nature owing to this imitative principle in our minds, together with our desire of knowledge; but hence likewise proceed all the imitative arts, Poetry, Painting, Statuary, &c. Whatever we see performed by nature, we are emulous and restless to perform something like it, and so to rival nature. And hence all the bold and daring efforts of the human<46> mind, in the various ways or arts of imitating, or rather excelling nature.a
A review of our natural furniture for knowledge.
But as considerable as these assistances are which have been mentioned, they amount but to a small share of what nature hath done for us, in order to fit us for progress in knowledge, and the manifold pleasures arising from truth, and the search after it.
Knowledge naturally agreeable to the mind.
We have a natural appetite after knowledge.
I. Progress in knowledge is rewarded by itself every step it makes; for darkness is not more disagreeable to the natural eye, than ignorance is to the mind: the breaking in of knowledge upon the understanding, is not less refreshing and chearing than the appearance of day after a gloomy, weary night to a traveller. Every discovery we make; every glimpse of truth, as it begins to dawn upon the mind, gives high delight. And thus every acquisition in science recompences our labour, and becomes a strong incitement to greater application, in order to make further improvements, bring in fresh purchases, and so procure new pleasures to ourselves. The reason of all this can be no other, than that truth or knowledge is naturally as agreeable and satisfactory to the understanding, as light is to the eye; and that there is really implanted in our natures an appetite after knowledge. It is indeed a mistake to imagine that we have no appetites of the moral kind. The desire of society, and the impatient thirst after knowledge, are as properly appetites, as hunger and thirst, &c. The mind of man is naturally anxious and inquisitive; uneasy while it is in the dark about any thing, and anxious to understand<47> it; and when it comes to a satisfactory knowledge of any object, it then looks upon it in a great measure as its own; as subdued by its understanding, and at its command; and thus it triumphs in its own power and force. And the oftner and more intensely this pleasure has been felt, the desire of knowledge waxes stronger and keener. It grows in proportion as it has been exercised and gratified by study and contemplation. But let us observe how this natural desire of knowledge is excited, supported, gratified and directed.a
New or uncommon objects wonderfully attract our attention.
II. New or uncommon objects greatly attract our minds, and give us very high pleasure. Now by this means we are prompted to look out for new ideas, and to give all diligence to make fresh discoveries in science. “Every thing that is new or uncommon (says an excellent writera) raises a pleasure in the imagination, because it fills the soul with an agreeable surprize, gratifies its curiosity, and gives it an idea of which it was not before possessed. We are indeed so often conversant with one set of objects, and tired out with so many repeated shows of the same things, that whatever is new or uncommon, contributes not a little to vary human life, and to divert our minds for a while with the strangeness of its appearance; it serves us for a kind of refreshment, and takes off from that satiety we are apt to complain of, in our usual and ordinary entertainments. It is this that bestows charms on a monster, and makes even the imperfections of nature please us. It is this that recommends variety,<48> when the mind is every instant called off to something new, and the attention not suffered to dwell too long, and waste itself on any particular object. It is this likewise, which improves what is great or beautiful, and makes
