CHAP. I. That Men by various Ways arrive at the same end.

THE most likely and most usu­al way in Practice of appeasing the Indignation of such as we have any way offended, when we see them in Possession of the Power of Revenge, and find that we absolutely lye at their Mercy, is by Submis­sion (than which,Submission mollifies the Hearts of the of­fended. nothing more flatters the Glory of an Adversary) to move them to Commiseration and Pity: and yet Brave­ry, Constancy, and Resolution, however quite contrary means, have sometimes ser­ved to produce the same effect.Edward the Black Prince. Edward the Black Prince of Wales (the same who so long [Page 2] govern'd our Province of Guienne, a Person whose high Condition, excellent Qualities, and remarkable Fortune, have in them a great deal of the most noble and most considerable Parts of Grandeur) having, through some Mis­demeanours of theirs, been highly incens'd by the Limosins, and in the heat of that Resent­ment taking their City by Assault, was not, in the Riot commonly attending such Exe­cutions, either by the Out-cries of the Peo­ple, or the Prayers and Tears of the Women and Children, abandon'd to Slaughter and prostrate at his Feet for Mercy, to be stayed from prosecuting his Revenge; till, penetra­ting further into the Body of the Town, he at last took notice of three French Gentle­men,Remarka­ble Valour of three French Gentle­men. who with incredible Bravery, alone sustain'd the whole Power of his victorious Army: and then it was, that the Conside­ration of, and the Respect unto so remarka­ble a Vertue, first stopt the Torrent of his Fury, and that his Clemency, beginning in the Preservation of these three Cavaliers▪ was af­terwards extended to all the remaining In­habitants of the City.Scanderbeg. Scanderbeg Prince of Epirus, in great Wrath pursuing one of his Souldiers, with a resolute Purpose to kill him, and the Souldier having in vain tryed by all the ways of Humility and Supplication to appease him, seeing him notwithstanding ob­stinately bent to his Ruine, resolv'd, as his last Refuge, to face about and expect him with [Page 3] his Sword in his Hand; which Behaviour of his gave a sudden stop to his Captains Fu­ry, who for seeing him assume so notable a Resolution, receiv'd him to Grace: an Exam­ple, however, that might suffer another In­terpretation with such as have not read of the prodigious Force and Valour of that in­vincible Prince. The Emperour Conrade the 3d. having besieg'd Guelpho Duke of Bava­ria, would not be prevail'd upon, what mean and unmanly Satisfactions soever had been tender'd to him, to condescend to mild­er Conditions, than that the Ladies and Gen­tlewomen only who were in the Town might go out without Violation of their Honour, on Foot, and with so much only as they could carry about them.Conjugal Love. Which was no sooner known, but that out of Magnanimity of Heart, and an Excess of good Nature, they presently contriv'd to carry out, upon their Shoulders, their Husbands and Children, and even the Duke himself; a Sight at which the Emperour was so pleased, that, ravish'd with the Generosity of the Action, he wept for Joy, and immediately extinguishing in his Heart the mortal and implacable Hatred he had conceiv'd against this Duke, he from that time forward, treated Him and His with all Humanity and Affection. The one, or the other, of these two ways, would with great Facility work upon my Nature; for I have a marvellous Propensity to Mercy and Mild­ness, [Page 4] and to such a degree of Tenderness, that I fancy, of the two I should sooner sur­render my Anger to Compassion than Esteem: And yet Pity is reputed a Vice amongst the Stoicks, who will that we succour the Af­flicted, but not that we should be so affect­ed with their Sufferings as to suffer with them.Pity repu­ted a Vice amongst the Stoicks. I conceiv'd these Examples not ill suit­ed to the Question in hand, and the rather, because therein we observe these great Souls, assaulted and tryed by these two several ways, to resist the one without relenting, and to be shook and subjected by the other.

It is true, that to suffer a Man's Heart to be totally subdued by Compassion, may be imputed Facility, Effeminacy, and Over-ten­derness; whence it comes to pass, that the weakest Natures, as of Women, Children, and the common sort of People, are the most sub­ject to it: but after having resisted, and dis­dain'd the Power of Sighs and Tears, to surrender a Man's Animosity to the sole Re­verence of the sacred Image of Vertue, this can be no other than the Effect of a strong and inflexible Soul, enamour'd of, and ravish'd with a Masculine and obstinate Valour. Ne­vertheless, Astonishment and Admiration may in less generous Minds beget a like Effect. Witness the People of Thebes, who having put two of their Generals upon Tryal for their Lives, for having continued in Arms beyond the precise Term of their Commissi­on, [Page 5] very hardly pardon'd Pelopidas, who bowing under the weight of so dangerous an Accusation, had made no manner of De­fence for himself, nor produc'd other Argu­ments than Prayers and Supplications to se­cure his Head; whereas, on the contrary, Epa­minondas being brought to the Bar, and fal­ling to magnifie the Exploits he had per­form'd in their Service, and after a haughty and arrogant manner reproaching them with Ingratitude and Injustice, they had not the Heart to proceed any further in his Tryal, but broke up the Court and departed, the whole Assembly highly commending the Cou­rage and Confidence of this Man.The Cru­elty of Dio­nysius the Tyrant. Dionysius the elder, after having by a tedious Siege, and through exceeding great Difficulties, ta­ken the City of Rhegium, and in it the Go­vernour Phyton, a very gallant Man, who had made so obstinate a Defence, he was resol­ved to make him a tragical Example of his Revenge; in order whereunto, and the more sensibly to afflict him, he first told him, That he had the Day before caus'd his Son and all his Kindred to be drown'd: To which Phy­ton return'd no other Answer but this, That they were then by one Day happier than he. After which, causing him to be strip'd, and delivering him into the Hands of the Tor­mentors, he was by them not only dragg'd thorough the Streets of the Town, and most ignominiously and cruelly whip'd, but more­over, [Page 6] villified with most bitter and contume­lious Language: yet still, in the Fury of all this Persecution, he maintain'd his Courage entire all the way, with a strong Voice and undaunted Countenance proclaiming the glo­rious Cause of his Death; namely, for that he would not deliver up his Country in­to the Hands of a Merciless Tyrant; at the same time denouncing against him a sudden Chastisement from the offended Gods. At which the Tyrant rowling his Eyes about, and reading in his Souldiers Looks, that in­stead of being incens'd at the haughty Lan­guage of this conquer'd Enemy, to the Con­tempt of him their Captain and his Tri­umph, they not only seem'd struck with Ad­miration of so rare a Vertue, but moreover inclin'd to Mutiny, and were even ready to rescue the Prisoner out of the Hangman's hands, he caus'd the Execution to cease, and afterwards privately caus'd him to be thrown into the Sea. Man (in good earnest) is a marvellous vain, fickle, and unstable Subject, and on whom it is very hard to form any certain or proportionate Judgment. For Pompey could pardon the whole City of the Mammertines, Pompey. though furiously incens'd against it, upon the single Account of the Vertue and Magnanimity of one Citizen, Ze­no, who took the Fault of the Publick wholly upon himself; neither intreated other Favour, but alone to undergo the Punish­ment [Page 7] for all: and yet Sylla's Host, having in the City of Perusia manifested the same Vertue, obtain'd nothing by it, either for himself or his Fellow-Citizens. And, directly contrary to my first Examples, the bravest of all Men, and who was reputed so graci­ous and civil to all those he overcame, Ale­xander the Great, Alexander. having after many great Difficulties forc'd the City of Gaza, and entring, found Betis, who commanded there, and of whose Valour in the time of this Siege he had most noble and manifest Proof; alone, forsaken by all his Souldiers, his Arms hack'd and hew'd to pieces, covered all over with Blood and Wounds, and yet still fight­ing in the Crowd of a great Number of Ma­cedonians, who were laying on him on all sides, he said to him, netled at so dear bought a Victory, and two fresh Wounds he had newly receiv'd in his own Person, Thou shalt not dye Betis so honourably as thou dost intend, but shalt assuredly suffer all the Tor­ments that can be inflicted on a miserable Cap­tive. To which Menaces the other return­ing no other Answer, but only a fierce and disdainful Look; What,Obstinate silence of Besis. says the Conque­rour (observing his obstinate Silence) Is he too stiff to bend a Knee! Is he too proud to utter one suppliant Word! I shall certainly conquer this Silence; and if I cannot force a Word from his Mouth, I shall at least ex­tract a Groan from his Heart. And there­upon [Page 8] converting his Anger into Fury, pre­sently commanded his Heels to be boar'd through, causing him alive to be drag'd, mangled, and dismembred at an infamous Carts-Tail. Was it that the height of Cou­rage was so natural and familiar to this Con­querour, that because he could not admire, he should the less esteem this Hero? Or was it that he conceiv'd Valour to be a Vertue so peculiar to himself, that his Pride could not, without Envy, endure it in another? Or was it that the natural Impetuosity of his Fury was incapable of Opposition? Certainly, had it been capable of any manner of Moderation or Society, it is to be believ'd, that in the Sack and Desolation of Thebes, to see so ma­ny valiant Men lost and totally destitute of any further Defence, cruelly massacred before his Eyes, would have appeas'd it: where there were above six thousand put to the Sword, of which not one was seen to fly, or heard to cry out for Quarter; but on the contrary, every one running here and there to seek out and to provoke the Victorious Enemy to help them to an honourable end. Not one who did not to his last Gasp yet endeavour to re­venge himself, and with all the Arms of a brave Despair to sweeten his own Death in the Death of an Enemy. Yet did their Ver­tue create no Pity, and the length of one day was not enough to satiate the Thirst of the Conquerours Revenge; but the Slaughter [Page 9] continued to the last Drop of Blood that was capable of being shed, and stop'd not till it met with none but naked and impotent Per­sons, old Men, Women, and Children, of them to carry away to the number of thirty thousand Slaves.

CHAP. II. Of Sorrow.

NO Man living is more free from this Pas­sion than I, who neither like it in my self, nor admire it in others, and yet general­ly the World (I know not why) is pleas'd to grace it with a particular Esteem, endeavour­ing to make us believe, That Wisdom, Ver­tue, and Conscience, shroud themselves un­der this grave and affected Appearance. Fool­ish and sordid Disguise! The Italians howe­ver under the Denomination of Vn Tristo, decipher a clandestine Nature, a dangerous and ill-natur'd Man: and with good reason, it being a Quality always hurtful, always idle and vain, and as cowardly, mean, and base, by the Stoicks expresly, and particular­ly forbidden their Sages: But the Story, ne­vertheless, says, that Psammenitus, King of Egypt, being defeated and taken Prisoner by Cambyses King of Persia, seeing his own Daughter pass by him in a wretched Habit, [Page 10] with a Bucket to draw Water, though hi [...] Friends about him were so concerned as to break out into Tears and Lamentations at the miserable sight; yet he himself remain'd un­mov'd, without uttering a Word of Discon­tent, with his Eyes fix'd upon the Ground: and seeing moreover his Son immediately af­ter led to Execution, still maintain'd the same Gravity and Indifference; till spying at last one of his Domesticks drag'd away amongst the Captives, he could then hold no longer, but fell to tearing his Hair, and beating his Breast, with all the other Extravagancies of a wild and desperate Sorrow. A Story that may very fitly be coupled with another of the same kind, of a late Prince of our own Na­tion, who being at Trent, and having News there brought him of the Death of his elder Brother, but a Brother on whom depended the whole Support and Honour of his House, and soon after of that of a younger Brother, the second Hope of his Family, and having withstood these two Assaults with an exem­plary Resolution, one of his Servants hap­ning a few days after to dye, he suffer'd his Constancy to be overcome by this last Acci­dent; and parting with his Courage, so abandon'd himself to Sorrow and Mourning, that some from thence were forward to con­clude, that he was only touch'd to the Quick by this last Stroak of Fortune; but, in truth, it was, that being before brim full of Grief, [Page 11] the least Addition overflow'd the Bounds of all Patience. Which might also be said of the former Example, did not the Story pro­ceed to tell us, That (Cambyses asking Psam­menitus, Why, not being mov'd at the Calamity of his Son and Daughter, he should with so great Impatience bear the Misfortune of his Friend? It is (answer'd he) because this last Affliction was only to be manifested by Tears, the two first exceeding all manner of Expressi­on. And peradventure something like this might be working in the Fancy of the anci­ent Painter, who being in the Sacrifice of Iphigenia to represent the Sorrow of the Assi­stants proportionably to the several Degrees of Interest every one had in the Death of this fair innocent Virgin; and having in the other Figures laid out the utmost Power of his Art, when he came to that of her Father, he drew him with a Veil over his Face, meaning thereby, that no kind of Countenance was capable of expressing such a degree of Sor­row. Which is also the reason why the Po­ets feign the miserable Mother Niobe, having first lost seven Sons, and successively as many Daughters, to be at last transform'd into a Rock,

[Page 12] Thereby to express, that melancholick, dumb, and deaf Stupidity, which benums all our Fa­culties when opprest with Accidents greater than we are able to bear; and indeed the Violence and Impression of an excessive Grief must of necessity astonish the Soul, and whol­ly deprive her of her ordinary Functions: as it happens to every one of us, who upon any sudden Alarm of very ill News, find our selves surpriz'd, stupified, and in a manner depriv'd of all Power of Motion, till the Soul, beginning to vent it self in Sighs and Tears, seems a little to free and disingage it self from the sudden Oppression, and to have obtain'd some room to work it self out at greater Liberty.

In the War that Ferdinand made upon the Widdow of King John of Hungary about Bu­da, a Man at Arms was particularly taken notice of by every one for his singular gal­lant Behaviour in a certain Encounter; un­known, highly commended, and as much la­mented, being left dead upon the Place: but by none so much as by Raisciac a German Lord, who was infinitely enamour'd of so unparalell'd a Vertue. When the Body be­ing brought off, and the Count, with the [Page 13] common Curiosity coming to view it, the Arms were no sooner taken off, but he im­mediately knew him to be his own Son. A thing that added a second Blow to the Com­passion of all the Beholders; only he, with­out uttering a Word, or turning away his Eyes from the woful Object, stood fixtly contemplating the Body of his Son, till the Vehemency of Sorrow having overcome his Vital Spirits, made him sink down stone-dead to the Ground.

say the Inamorato's, when they would repre­sent an insupportable Passion.

Neither is it in the height and greatest fu­ry of the Fit that we are in a condition to pour out our Complaints, or to sally into Courtship, the Soul being at that time over­burthened, and labouring with profound Thoughts; and the Body dejected and lan­guishing with Desire; and thence it is, that sometimes proceed those accidental Impoten­cies that so unseasonably surprize the willing Lover, and that Frigidity which by the force of an immoderate Ardour so unhappily seizes him even in the very lap of Fruition: For all Passions that suffer themselves to be relish'd and digested are but moderate.

A surprize of unexpected Joy does like­wise often produce the same Effect.

To these we have the Examples of the Ro­man Lady, who died for Joy to see her Son safe returned from the defeat of Cannae; and of Sophocles, and Dionisius the Tyrant, who died of Joy; and of Talva, who died in Cor­sica, reading News of the Honours the Roman Senate had decreed in his Favour. We have moreover one, in our times, of Pope Leo the tenth, who, upon News of the Taking of Mi­lan, a thing he had so ardently and passio­nately desir'd, was rap't with so sudden an excess of Joy, that he immediately fell into a Fever and died. And for a more authen­tick Testimony of the imbecillity of Humane Nature, it is recorded by the Antients, that Diodorus the Logician died upon the Place, out of an extream Passion of Shame, for not having been able in his own School, and in the presence of a great Auditory, to disingage himself from a nice Argument that was pro­pounded to him. I for my part am very little subject to these violent Passions; I am naturally of a stubborn Apprehension, which also by Discourse I every day harden, and fortifie more and more.

CHAP. III. That our Affections carry themselves beyond us.

SUch as accuse Mankind of the Folly of gaping and panting after future things, and advise us to make our benefit of those which are present, and to set up our rest upon them, as having too short a reach to lay hold upon that which is to come, and it being more impossible for us, than to retrieve what is past; have hit upon the most universal of Humane Errours, if that may be call'd an Er­rour to which Nature it self has dispos'd us, who in order to the subsistence, and conti­nuation of her own Work, has, amongst se­veral others, prepossess'd us with this deceiving Imagination, as being more jealous of our Action, than afraid of our Knowledge. For we are never present with, but always be­yond our selves. Fear, Desire, and Hope, are still pushing us on towards the future, depri­ving us in the mean time of the sense and Consideration of that which is, to amuse us with the thought of what shall be, even when we shall be no more.

[Page 17]We find this great Precept often repeated in Plato, Do thine own Work, and know thy self. Of which two Parts, both the one and the other generally comprehend our whole Duty, and consequently do each of them complicate and involve the other; for, who will do his own Work aright, will find that his first Lesson is to know himself: and who rightly understands himself will never mistake another Man's Work for his own, but will love and improve himself above all other things, will refuse superfluous Employments, and reject all unprofitable Thoughts and Pro­positions. And, as Folly on the one side, though it should enjoy all it can possibly de­sire, would notwithstanding never be con­tent, so on the other, Wisdom does ever ac­quiesce with the present, and is never dissa­tisfied with its immediate Condition: and that is the reason why Epicurus dispenses his Sages from all Fore-sight and Care of the fu­ture. Amongst those Laws that relate to the Dead, I look upon that to be the best, by which the Actions of Princes are to be exa­mined and sifted after their Decease. They are equal at least, whilst living, if not above the Laws, and therefore what Justice could not inflict upon their Persons, 'tis but reason should be executed upon their Reputations, and the Estates of their Successors; Things that we often value above Life it self: A Cu­stom of singular Advantage to those Countries [Page 18] where it is in use, and by all good Princes as much to be desir'd, who have reason to take it ill, that the Memories of the Tyrannical and Wicked should be us'd with the same Re­verence and Respect with theirs. We owe, 'tis true, Subjection and Obedience to all our Kings, whether good or bad, alike, for that has respect unto their Office; but as to Affe­ction and Esteem, those are only due to their Vertue. Let it be granted, that by the Rule of Government we are with Patience to en­dure unworthy Princes, to conceal their Vi­ces, and to assist them in their indifferent Actions, whilst their Authority stands in need of our Support: yet, the Relation of Prince and Subject being once at an end, there is no reason we should deny the Publication of our real Wrongs and Sufferings to our own Li­berty and common Justice, and to interdict good Subjects the Glory of having submissive­ly and faithfully serv'd a Prince, whose Imper­fections were to them so perfectly known, ne'r to deprive Posterity of so good an Ex­ample; and such as out of respect to some private Obligation, shall, against their own Knowledge and Conscience, espouse the Quar­rel, and vindicate the Memory of a faulty Prince, do a particular Right at the Expence and to the Prejudice of the Publick Justice. Livy does very truly say, That the Language of Men bred up in Courts is always sounding of vain Ostentation, and that their Testimo­ny [Page 19] is rarely true, every one indifferently mag­nifying his own Master, and stretching his Commendation to the utmost extent of Ver­tue and Sovereign Grandeur: and 'tis not impossible but some may condemn the Free­dom of those two Souldiers, who so roundly answer'd Nero to his Face, the one being ask'd by him, Why he bore him ill Will? I lov'd thee, answer'd he, whilst thou wert wor­thy of it, but since thou art become a Parricide, an Incendiary, a Waterman, a Fidler, a Play­er, and a Coachman, I hate thee as thou dost deserve: and the other, Why he should attempt to kill him? Because, said he, I could think of no other Remedy against thy perpetual Mischiefs. But the publick and universal Testimonies that were given of him after his Death (and will be to all Posterity, both of him and all other wicked Princes like him) his Tyran­nies and abominable Deportment considered, who, of a sound Judgment, can reprove them? I am scandaliz'd, I confess, that in so sacred a Government as that of the Lacedemonians, there should be mix'd so hypocritical a Cere­mony at the Enterrment of their Kings; where all their Confederates and Neighbours, and all sorts and Degrees of Men and Wo­men, as well as their Slaves,Ceremony of the La­cedaemoni­ans at the Enterr­ment of their Kings. cut and slash'd their Fore-heads in Token of Sorrow, re­peating in their Cries and Lamentations, That that King (let him have been as wicked as the Devil) was the best that ever they had; by [Page 20] this means attributing to his Quality the Prai­ses that only belong to Merit, and that of Right is properly due to the most supream Desert, though lodg'd in the lowest and most inferiour Subject. Aristotle (who will still have a hand in every thing) makes a Quaere upon the Saying of Solon, That none can be said to be happy untill he be dead. Whether then any one of those who have liv'd and di­ed according to their Hearts Desire, if he have left an ill Repute behind him, and that his Posterity be miserable, can be said to be happy? Whilst we have Life and Motion, we convey our selves by Fancy and Preoccupa­tion, whither and to what we please; but once out of Being, we have no more any manner of Communication with what is yet in Being: and it had therefore been better said of Solon, That Man is never happy, be­cause never so till after he is no more.

[Page 21] Bertrand de Glesquin, dying before the Castle of Rancon near unto Puy in Auvergne, the Besieg'd were afterwards, upon Surren­der, enjoyn'd to lay down the Keys of the Place upon the Corps of the dead General. Bartolomew d' Alviano, the Venetian General, hapning to dye in the Service of the Repub­lick in Brascia; and his Corps being to be carried thorough the Territory of Verona, an Enemy's Country, most of the Army were of Opinion to demand safe Conduct from the Veronese, supposing, that upon such an Occa­sion it would not be denied: but Theodoro Trivulsio highly oppos'd the Motion, rather choosing to make his way by force of Arms, and to run the hazard of a Battel, saying, it was by no means decent, and very unfit, that he who in his Life was never afraid of his Enemies should seem to apprehend them when he was dead. And in truth, in Affairs of almost the same Nature, by the Greek Laws, he who made Suit to an Enemy for a Body to give it Burial, did by that Act renounce his Victory, and had no more Right to erect a Trophy; and he to whom such Suit was made, was ever, whatever otherwise the Suc­cess had been, reputed Victor. By this means it was, that Nicias lost the Advantage he had visibly obtain'd over the Corinthians, and that Agesilaus on the contrary, assur'd that he had before very doubtfully gain'd of the Baeotians. These Proceedings might appear [Page 22] very odd, had it not been a general Practice in all Ages, not only to extend the Concern of our Persons beyond the Limits of Life, but moreover, to fancy that the Favour of Hea­ven does not only very often accompany us to the Grave, but has also, even after Life, a Concern for our Ashes: of which there are so many ancient Examples (waving those of our own Observation of later date) that it is not very necessary I should longer insist up­on it. Edward King of England, and the first of that Name, having in the long Wars betwixt him and Robert King of Scotland, had sufficient Experience of how great Impor­tance his own immediate Presence was to the Success of his Affairs, having ever been vi­ctorious in whatever he undertook in his own Person; when he came to dye, bound his Son in a solemn Oath, that so soon as he should be dead, he should boyl his Body till the Flesh parted from the Bones, and reserve them to carry continually with him in his Army, so often as he should be oblig'd to go against the Scots; as if Destiny had inevita­bly grapled Victory even to those miserable Remains. Jean Zisca, the same who so often in Vindication of Wicliffe's Heresies, infested the Bohemian State, left order that they should flea him after his Death, and of his Skin to make a Drum, to carry in the War against his Enemies, fancying it would much contribute to the Continuation of the Suc­cesses [Page 23] he had always obtain'd in the War against them. In like manner, certain of the Indians, in a Day of Battel with the Spani­ards, carried with them the Bones of one of their Captains, in consideration of the Victo­ries they had formerly obtain'd under his Conduct. And other People of the same new World do yet carry about with them in their Wars the Relicks of valiant Men who have died in Battel, to incite their Courage, and advance their Fortune: of which Examples, the first reserve nothing for the Tomb, but the Reputation they have acquir'd by their former Atchievements; but these proceed yet further, and attribute a certain Power of Operation. The last Act of Captain Bayard is of a much better Composition; who, find­ing himself wounded to Death with a Har­quebuze Shot, and being by his Friends im­portun'd to retire out of the Fight, made Answer, That he would not begin at the last Gasp to turn his Back to the Enemy; and ac­cordingly still fought on, till feeling himself too faint, and no longer able to sit his Horse, he commanded his Steward to set him down against the Root of a Tree, but so that he might dye with his Face towards the Enemy, which he also did. I must yet add another Example equally remarkable, for the present Consideration, with any of the former. The Emperour Maximilian, great Grand-father to Philip the Second, King of Spain, was a [Page 24] Prince endowed throughout with great and extraordinary Qualities, and amongst the rest, with a singular Beauty of Person; but had withall, a Humour very contrary to that of other Princes, who for the dispatch of their most Important Affairs convert their Close-stool into a Chair of State, which was, that he would never permit any of his Bed-Cham­ber,Modesty of Maximili­an the Em­perour. in what familiar degree of Favour soe­ver, to see him in that Posture; and would steal aside to make Water as religiously as a Virgin, and was as shy to discover either to his Physician, or any other whatever, those Parts that we are accustomed to conceal: and I my self, who have so impudent a way of Talking, am nevertheless naturally so modest this way, that unless at the Importunity of Necessity, or Pleasure, I very rarely and un­willingly communicate to the Sight of any, either those Parts or Actions that Custom or­ders us to conceal, wherein I also suffer more Constraint than I conceive is very well be­coming a Man, especially of my Profession: but he nourish'd this modest Humour to such a degree of Superstition, as to give express Or­ders in his last Will, that they should put him on Drawers so soon as he should be dead; to which methinks he would have done well to have added, that he should have been hood­wink'd too that put them on. The Charge that Cyrus left with his Children, that neither they nor any other should either see or touch [Page 25] his Body after the Soul was departed from it,Cyrus's Re­verence to Religion. Xenophon. I attribute to some superstitious Devotion of his, both his Historian, and Himself, amongst other great Qualities, having strew'd the whole Course of their Lives with a singular Respect to Religion. I was by no means pleas'd with a Story was told me by a Man of very great Quality, of a Relation of mine, and one who had given a very good Account of himself both in Peace and War; that co­ming to dye in a very old Age, of an exces­sive Pain of the Stone, he spent the last Hours of his Life in an extraordinary Solitude about ordering the Ceremony of his Funeral, pres­sing all the Men of Condition who came to see him, to engage their Word to attend him to his Grave, importuning this very Prince, who came to visit him at his last Gasp, with a most earnest Supplication, that he would order his Family to be assisting there, and withall representing before him several Rea­sons and Examples to prove that it was a Re­spect due to a Man of his Condition; and seem'd to dye content, having obtain'd this Promise, and appointed the Method and Or­der of this Funeral Parade. I have seldom heard of so long-liv'd a Vanity. Another, though contrary Solitude (of which also I do not want domestick Example,) seems to be somewhat a Kin to this; That a Man shall cudgel his Brains at the last Moments of his Life, to contrive his Obsequies to so particu­lar [Page 26] and unusual a Parcimony, as to conclude it in the sordid expence of one single Servant with a Candle and Lanthorn. And yet I see this Humour commended, and the Appoint­ment of Marcus Aemilius Lepidus, who for­bad his Heirs to bestow upon his Hearse even the common Ceremonies in use upon such Occasions. Is it yet Temperance and Fru­gality to avoid the Expence and Pleasure of which the use and knowledge is impercepti­ble to us? See here an easie and cheap Re­formation. If Instruction were at all neces­sary in this case, I should be of Opinion, that in this, as in all other Actions of Life, the Ce­remony and Expence should be regulated by the Ability of the Person deceas'd; and the Philosopher Lycon prudently order'd his Ex­ecutors to dispose of his Body where they should think most fit, and as to his Funerals, to order them neither too superfluous, nor too mean. For my part, I should wholly re­fer the ordering of this Ceremony to Custom, and shall, when the time comes, accordingly leave it to their Discretion, to whose Lot it shall fall to do me that last Office. Totus hic locus est contemnendus in nobis non negligendus in nostris;Cicero tusc. l. 1. The Place of our Sepulture is wholly to be contemn'd by us, but not to be neglected by our Friends; and it was a holy Saying of a Saint, Curatio funeris conditio Se­pulturae, August. de Civit. Dei. pompa Exequiarum, magis sunt vivo­rum solatia, quàm subsidia mortuorum, The [Page 27] Care of Funerals, the Place of Sepulture, and the Pomps of Exequies, are rather Consolati­ons to the Living than any Benefit to the Dead. Which made Socrates answer Criton, who at the Hour of his Death ask'd him, how he would be buried, How you will, said he. If I could concern my self further than the Present about this Affair, I should be most tempted, as the greatest Satisfaction of this kind, to imitate those who in their Life-time entertain themselves with the Ceremony of their own Obsequies before-hand, and are pleas'd with viewing their own Monument, and beholding their own dead Countenance in Marble. Happy are they who can gratifie their Senses by Insensibility, and live by their Death! I am ready to conceive an implacable Hatred against all Democracy and Popular Government, (though I cannot but think it the most natural and equitable of all others) so oft as I call to mind the inhumane Injustice of the People of Athens, who, without Re­mission, or once vouchsafing to hear what they had to say for themselves, put to death their brave Captains newly return'd trium­phant from a Naval Victory they had obtain­ed over the Lacedaemonians near the Arginu­sian Isles; the most bloody and obstinate En­gagement that ever the Greeks fought at Sea; for no other Reason, but that they rather followed their Blow and pursued the Advan­tages prescribed them by the Rule of War, [Page 28] than that they would stay to gather up and bury their Dead: an Execution that is yet rendred more odious by the Behaviour of Diomedon, who being one of the condemn'd, and a Man of most eminent, both politick and military Vertue, after having heard their Sen­tence, advancing to speak, no Audience till then having been allowed, instead of laying before them his own Innocency, or the Im­piety of so cruel an Arrest, only express'd a Sollitude for his Judges Preservation, be­seeching the Gods to convert this Sentence to their own Good, and praying that for ne­glecting to pay those Vows which he and his Companions had done (which he also ac­quainted them with) in Acknowledgment of so glorious a Success, they might not pull down the Indignation of the Gods upon them; and so without more Words went couragi­ously to his Death. But Fortune a few Years after punishing them in their kind, made them see the Error of their Cruelty: for Chabrias, Captain-General of their Naval Forces, ha­ving got the better of Pollis, Admiral of Spar­ta, about the Isle of Naxos, totally lost the Fruits of his Success and Content with his Victory of very great Importance to their Affairs: not to incur the danger of this Ex­ample, and lose a few Bodies of his dead Friends that were floating in the Sea, gave opportunity to a world of living Enemies to sail away in Safety, who afterwards made [Page 29] them pay dear for this unseasonable Supersti­tion.

This other restores the sense of Repose to a Body without a Soul:

As Nature demonstrates to us, that several dead things retain yet an occult Sympathy and relation to Life; Wine changes its flavour and complexion in Cellars, according to the chan­ges and seasons of the Vine from whence it came; and the Flesh of Venison alters its con­dition and taste in the powd'ring-tub, ac­cording to the seasons of the living Flesh of its kind, as it is observed by the curious.

CHAP. IV. That the Soul discharges her Passions upon false Objects, where the true are wanting.

A Gentleman of my Country, who was very often tormented with the Gout, being importun'd by his Physicians totally to reclaim his Appetite from all manner of salt Meats, was wont presently to reply, that he must needs have something to quarrel with in the extremity of his Fits, and that he fan­cy'd, that railing at, and cursing one while the Bolognia Sawsages, and another the dry'd Tongues and the Hamms, was some mitiga­tion to his pain. And in good earnest, as the Arm when it is advanc'd to strike, if it fail of meeting with that upon which it was design'd to discharge the blow, and spends it self in vain, does offend the Striker himself; and as also, that to make a pleasant Prospect the Sight should not be lost and dilated in a vast extent of empty Air, but have some Bounds to limit and circumscribe it at a rea­sonable distance,

[Page 31]So it appears, that the Soul, being trans­ported and discompos'd, turns its violence upon it self, if not supply'd with something to oppose it, and therefore always requires an Enemy object on which to discharge its Fury and Resentment. Plutarch says very well of those who are delighted with little Dogs and Monkeys; that the amorous part that is in us, for want of a legitimate Object, rather than lye idle, does after that manner forge, and create one frivolous and false; as we see that the Soul, in the exercise of its Passions, inclines rather to deceive it self, by creating a false and fantastical Subject, even contrary to its own Belief, than not to have something to work upon. And after this manner Brute Beasts direct their Fury to fall upon the Stone or Weapon that has hurt them, and with their Teeth even execute their Revenge upon themselves, for the Inju­ry they have receiv'd from another.

[Page 32]What causes of the misadventures that befall us do we not invent? what is it that we do not lay the fault to right or wrong, that we may have something to quarrel with? Those beautiful Tresses, young Lady, you may so li­berally tear off, are no way guilty, nor is it the whiteness of those delicate Breasts you so unmercifully beat, that with an unlucky Bullet has slain your beloved Brother; quar­rel with something else. Livy, speaking of the Roman Army in Spain, sayes, that for the loss of two Brothers, who were both great Captains, Flere omnes repente, & offensare capita, Livy dec. 3. l. 5. that they all wept, and tore their Hair. 'Tis the common practice of Afflicti­on. And the Philosopher Bion said pleasant­ly of the King, who by handfuls pull'd his Hair off his Head for Sorrow, Does this man think that Baldness is a Remedy for Grief? Who has not seen peevish Gamesters worry the Cards with their Teeth, and swallow whole Bales of Dice in revenge for the Loss of their Money? Xerxes whip'd the Sea, and writ a Challenge to Mount Athos; Cyrus em­ploy'd a whole Army several days at work, to revenge himself of the River Gnydus, for the Fright it had put him into in passing over; and Caligula demolish'd a very beautiful Pa­lace for the Pleasure his Mother had once en­joy'd there. I remember there was a Story currant, when I was a Boy, That one of our Neighbouring Kings having receiv'd a Blow [Page 33] from the Hand of GOD, swore he would be reveng'd, and in order to it, made Procla­mation, that for ten Years to come no one should pray to him, or so much as mention him throughout his Dominions: by which we are not so much to take measure of the Folly, as the Vain-glory of the Nation of which this Tale was told. They are Vices that in­deed always go together; but such Actions as these have in them more of Presumption than want of Wit. Augustus Caesar, having been tost with a Tempest at Sea, fell to de­fying Neptune, and in the Pomp of the Cir­censian Games, to be reveng'd, depos'd his Statue from the place it had amongst the other Deities. Wherein he was less excusable than the former, and less than he was afterwards, when having lost a Battel under Quintilius Varus in Germany, in Rage and Despair he went running his Head against the Walls, and crying out, O Varus! give me my Men again! for these exceed all Folly, forasmuch as Im­piety is joyn'd with it, invading God him­self, or at least Fortune, as if she had Ears that were subject to our Batteries; like the Thracians, who when it Thunders or Light­ens, fall to Shooting against Heaven with a Titanian Madness, as if by Flights of Arrows they intended to reduce God Almighty to Reason. Though the ancient Poet in Plu­tarch tells us,

But we can never enough decry nor suffici­ently condemn the senseless and ridiculous Sallies of our unruly Passions.

CHAP. V. Whether the Governour of a Place besieg'd ought himself to go out to parle.

LVcius Marcius, the Roman Legate, in the War against Persius King of Mace­don, to gain time wherein to re-inforce his Army, set on foot some Overtures of Accom­modation, with which the King being lull'd asleep, concluded a Cessation for certain days, by this means giving his Enemy opportuni­ty and leisure to repair his Arms, which was afterward the Occasion of his own Ruine. The elder sort of Senators, notwithstanding mindful of their Fore-fathers Vertue, were by no means satisfied with this Proceeding; but on the contrary condemn'd it, as degene­rating from their ancient Practice, which they said was by Valour, and not by Artifice, Surprizes, and Night-Encounters; neither by [Page 35] pretended Flight, Ambuscadoes, and deceitful Treaties, to overcome their Enemies; never making War till having first denounc'd it, and very often assign'd both the Hour and Place of Battel. Out of this generous Prin­ciple it was that they deliver'd up to Pyrrhus his treacherous Physician, and to the Hetru­rians their disloyal School-Master. And this was indeed a Procedure truly Roman, and nothing ally'd to the Grecian Subtilty, nor the Punick Cunning, where it was reputed a Victory of less Glory to overcome by Force than Fraud. Deceit may serve for a need, but he only confesses himself overcome who knows he is neither subdued by Policy, nor Misadventure, but by dint of Valour, in a fair and manly War. And it very well ap­pears by the Discourse of these good old Se­nators, that this fine Sentence was not yet re­ceiv'd amongst them,

The Achaians (says Polybius) abhorr'd all manner of double-dealing in War, not repu­ting it a Victory, unless where the Courages of the Enemy were fairly subdued.Tacit. in Agric. Eam vir sanctus, & sapiens sciet veram esse victoriam, quae salva fide, & integra dignitate parabitur. An honest and a prudent Man will acknowledge [Page 36] that only to be a true Victory which he has ob­tain'd without Violation of his own Faith, or any Blemish upon his own Honour, says another.

In the Kingdom of Ternates, amongst those Nations which we so broadly call Barbarians, they have a Custom never to commence War till it be first denounc'd; adding withall, an ample Declaration of what they have to do it withall, with what, and how many Men, what Ammunitions, and what both offensive and defensive Arms; but that being done, they afterward conceive it lawful to employ this Power without Reproach, any way that may best conduce to their own ends. The ancient Florentines were so far from obtain­ing any Advantage over their Enemies by Surprize, that they always gave them a Months Warning before they drew their Ar­my into the Field, by the continual Tolling of a Bell they call'd Martinella. For what concerns us who are not so scrupulous in this Affair, and who attribute the Honour of the War to him who has the better of it, after what manner soever obtain'd, and who after Lysander say, Where the Lion's Skin is too short we must eech it out with the Foxes Case. [Page 37] The most usual Occasions of Surprize are de­riv'd from this Practice, and we hold that there are no moments, wherein a Chief ought to be more circumspect, and to have his Eye so much at watch, as those of Parle's, and Treaties of Accommodation; and it is there­fore become a general Rule amongst the Mar­tial men of these latter Times, that a Gover­nour of a Place never ought in a time of Siege to go out to parle. It was for this that in our Fathers days the Seigneurs de Montmard and d' Assigni defending Mouson against the Count de Nassau, were so highly censur'd; yet in this Case it would be excusable in that Governour, who going out, should notwith­standing do it in such manner, that the Safe­ty and Advantage should be on his side; as Count Guido de Rangoni did at Reggio (if we are to believe Bellay, for Guicciardin says it was he himself) when Monsieur de l' Escut ap­proach'd to parle, who stept so little a way from his Fort, that a Disorder hapning in the interim of Parle, not only Monsieur de l' Es­cut and his Party who were advanc'd with him found themselves by much the weaker, (insomuch that Alessandro de Trivulcio was there slain) but he himself was constrain'd, as the safest way, to follow the Count, and re­lying upon his Honour to secure himself from the danger of the Shot within the very Walls of the Town. Eumenes, being shut up in the City of Nora by Antigonus, and by him im­portun'd [Page 38] to come out to speak with him, as he sent him word it was fit he should to a better Man than himself, and one who had now an Advantage over him, return'd this notable Answer, Tell him, said he, that I shall never think any Man better than my self, whilst I have my Sword in my hand: and would ne­ver consent to come out to him, till first, ac­cording to his own Demand, Antigonus had deliver'd him his own Nephew Ptolomeus in Hostage. And yet some have done rather better than worse in going out in Person to parle with the Assailant; witness Henry de Vaux, a Cavalier of Champagne, who being besieg'd by the English in the Castle of Com­mercy, and Bartholomew de Bone, who com­manded at the Leaguer, having so sapp'd the greatest part of the Castle without, that no­thing remain'd but setting Fire to the Props to bury the Besieg'd under the Ruines, he re­quested the said Henry to come out to speak with him for his own Good; which the other accordingly doing, with three more in Com­pany with him, and his own evident Ruine being made apparent to him, he conceiv'd himself singularly oblig'd to his Enemy, to whose Discretion after he and his Garrison had surrendred themselves, Fire being pre­sently apply'd to the Mine, the Props no sooner began to fail, but the Castle was imme­diately turn'd topsy turvy, no one Stone being left upon another. I could, and do, with great [Page 39] Facility, relye upon the Faith of another; but I should very unwillingly do it in such a Case, as it should thereby be judg'd that it was rather an Effect of my Despair, and want of Courage, than voluntary, and out of Con­fidence and Security in the Faith of him with whom I had to do.

CHAP. VI. That the Hour of Parle is dangerous.

I Saw notwithstanding lately at Mussidan, a Place not far from my House, that those who were driven out thence by our Army, and others of their Party, highly complain'd of Treachery, for that during a Treaty of Ac­commodation, and in the very interim that their Deputies were treating, they were sur­prized, and cut to pieces: a thing that per­adventure in another Age, might have had some colour of foul Play; but (as I said be­fore) the Practice of Arms in these days is quite another thing, and there is now no Confidence in an Enemy excusable, till after the last Seal of Obligation; and even then the Conquerour has enough to do to keep his Word: so hazardous a thing it is to in­trust the Observation of the Faith a Man has engag'd to a Town that surrenders upon ea­sie and favourable Conditions, to the Neces­sity, [Page 40] Avarice, and License of a victorious Army, and to give the Souldier free Entrance into it in the heat of Blood.The Faith of military Men very uncertain. Lucius Aemi­lius Regillus, a Roman Praetor, having lost his time in attempting to take the City of Phocaea by force, by reason of the singular Valour wherewith the Inhabitants defended themselves against him, condition'd at last to receive them as Friends to the People of Rome, and to enter the Town, as into a Confederate City, without any manner of Hostility; of which he also gave them all possible Assu­rance: but having for the greater Pomp brought his whole Army in with him, it was no more in his Power, with all the Endea­vour he could use, to command his People: so that Avarice and Revenge despising and trampling under foot both his Authority and all Military Discipline, he there at once saw his own Faith violated, and a considerable part of the City sack'd and ruin'd before his Face. Cleomenes was wont to say, That what Mischief soever a Man could do his Enemy in time of War was above Justice, and nothing accountable to it in the Sight of Gods and Men. And according to this Principle, having con­cluded a Cessation with those of Argos for se­ven days, the third Night after he fell upon them when they were all buried in Securi­ty and Sleep, and put them to the Sword; alledging for his Excuse, That there had no Nights been mention'd in the Truce: but [Page 41] the Gods punish'd his Perfidy. In a time of Parle also, and that the Citizens were intent upon their Capitulation, the City of Cassili­num was taken by Surprize, and that even in the Age of the justest Captains, and the best Discipline of the Roman Militia: for it is not said, that it is not lawful for us in Time and Place to make Advantage of our Enemies want of Understanding, as well as their want of Courage: and doubtless War has a great many Priviledges, that appear reasonable, even to the Prejudice of Reason. And there­fore here the Rule fails, Neminem id agere ut ex alterius praedetur inscitia, Cicero de Offic. l. 3. That no one should prey upon anothers Folly. But I am astonish'd at the great Liberty allow'd by Xe­nophon in such Cases, and that both by Pre­cept, and the Example of several Exploits of his compleat General. An Author of very great Authority, I confess, in those Affairs, as being in his own Person both a great Captain and a Philosopher of the first Form of Socrates his Disciples; and yet I cannot consent to such a measure of License as he dispenses in all Things and Places. Monsieur d' Aubigny, ha­ving besieged Capua, and play'd a furious Battery against it, Signior Fabricio Colonne, Governour of the Town, having from a Ba­stion begun to parle, and his Souldiers in the mean time being a little more remiss in their Guard, our People took advantage of their Security, enter'd the Place at unawares, and [Page 42] put them all to the Sword. And of later Memory, at Yvoy, Signior Juliano Romero having play'd that part of a Novice to go out to Capitulate with the Constable, at his Return found his Place taken. But, that we might not scape Scot-free, the Marquess of Pescara having laid Siege to Genoa, where Duke Octavio Fregosa commanded under our Protection, and the Articles betwixt them being so far advanc'd that it was look'd upon as a done thing, and upon the Point to be concluded, several Spaniards in the mean time being slip'd in under the Priviledge of the Treaty, seiz'd on the Gates, and made use of this Treachery as an absolute and fair Vi­ctory: and since at Ligny in Barrois, where the Count de Brienne commanded, the Em­perour having in his own Person beleaguer'd that Place, and Bartheville, the said Count's Lieutenant, going out to parle, whilst he was Capitulating the Town was taken.

say they: But the Philosopher Chrysippus was of another Opinion, wherein I also concur; for he was us'd to say, That those who run a [Page 43] Race, ought to imploy all the Force they have in what they are about, and to run as fast as they can; but that it is by no means fair in them to lay any hand upon their Ad­versary to stop him, nor to set a Leg before him to throw him down. And yet more ge­nerous was the Answer of that great Alexan­der to Polypercon, who persuaded him to take the Advantage of the Nights Obscurity to fall upon Darius; By no means (said he) it is not for such a Man as I am to steal a Victory, Malo me fortunae poeniteat, Quint. Curt. 1.4. quam victoriae pude­at, I had rather repent me of my Fortune than be asham'd of my Victory.

CHAP. VII. That the Intention is Judge of our Actions.

'TIS a Saying, That Death discharges us of all our Obligations. However, I know some who have taken it in another Sense. Henry the Seventh, King of England, articled with Don Philip Son to Maximilian the Emperour, and Father to the Emperour Charles the Fifth, when he had him upon English Ground, that the said Philip should deliver up the Duke of Suffolk of the White Rose, his mortal Enemy, who was fled into the Low Countries, into his Hands; which Philip (not knowing how to evade it) ac­cordingly promis'd to do, but upon conditi­on nevertheless, that Henry should attempt nothing against the Life of the said Duke, which, during his own Life he perform'd; but coming to dye, in his last Will, com­manded his Son to put him to Death imme­diately after his Decease. And lately, in the Tragedy, that the Duke of Alva presented to us in the Persons of two Counts, Egmont and Horne, at Brussels, there were very re­markable Passages, and one amongst the rest, that the said Count Egmont (upon the securi­ty of whose Word and Faith Count Horne had come and surrendred himself to the Duke of Alva) earnestly entreated that he [Page 45] might first mount the Scaffold, to the end that Death might disingage him from the Ob­ligation he had past to the other. In which Case, methinks Death did not acquit the for­mer of his Promise, and the second was satis­fied in the good Intention of the other, even though he bad not died with him: for we cannot be oblig'd beyond what we are able to perform, by reason that the Effects and In­tentions of what we promise are not at all in our Power, and that indeed we are Masters of nothing but the Will, in which, by neces­sity, all the Rules and whole Duty of Man­kind is founded and establish'd. And there­fore Count Egmont, conceiving his Soul and Will bound and indebted to his Promise, al­though he had not the Power to make it good, had doubtless been absolv'd of his Du­ty, even though he had out-liv'd the other; but the King of England wilfully and preme­ditately breaking his Faith, was no more to be excus'd for deferring the Execution of his Infidelity till after his Death, than Herodotus his Mason, who having inviolably, during the time of his Life, kept the Secret of the Treasure of the King of Egypt his Master, at his Death discover'd it to his Children. I have taken notice of several in my time, who, con­vinc'd by their Consciences of unjustly de­taining the Goods of another, have endea­vour'd to make amends by their Will, and af­ter their Decease: but they had as good do [Page 46] nothing, and delude themselves both in ta­king so much time in so pressing an Affair, and also in going about to repair an Injury with so little Demonstration of Resentment and Concern. They owe over and above something of their own, and by how much their Payment is more strict and incommodi­ous to themselves, by so much is their Resti­tution more perfect, just, and meritorious; for Penitency requires Penance: but they yet do worse than these, who reserve the Decla­ration of a mortal Animosity against their Neighbour to the last Gasp, having conceal'd it all the time of their Lives before, wherein they declare to have little regard of their own Honour whilst they irritate the Party offended against their Memory; and less to their Conscience, not having the Power, even out of Respect to Death it self, to make their Malice dye with them; but extending the Life of their Hatred even beyond their own. Unjust Judges, who defer Judgment to a time wherein they can have no Know­ledge of the Cause! For my part, I shall take Care, if I can, that my Death discover no­thing that my Life has not first openly mani­fested, and publickly declar'd.

CHAP. VIII. Of Idleness.

AS we see some Grounds that have long lain idle, and untill'd, when grown rank and fertile by rest, to abound with, and spend their Vertue, in the Product of innu­merable sorts of Weeds, and wild Herbs, that are unprofitable, and of no wholsome use, and that to make them perform their true Office, we are to cultivate and prepare them for such Seeds as are proper for our Service. And as we see Women that without the Knowledge of Men do sometimes of them­selves bring forth inanimate and formless Lumps of Flesh, but that to cause a natural and perfect Generation they are to be hus­banded with another kind of Seed; even so it is with Wits, which if not applyed to some certain Study that may fix and restrain them, run into a thousand Extravagancies, and are eternally roving here and there in the inex­tricable Labyrinth of restless Imagination.

In which wild and irregular Agitation, there is no Folly, nor idle Fancy they do not light upon:

The Soul that has no establish'd Limit to circumscribe it, loses it self, as the Epigram­matist says,

When I lately retir'd my self to my own House, with a Resolution, as much as possi­bly I could, to avoid all manner of Concern in Affairs, and to spend in privacy and repose the little remainder of time I have to Live: I fancy'd I could not more oblige my mind than to suffer it at full leisure to entertain and divert it self, which I also now hop'd it [Page 49] might the better be entrusted to do, as being by Time and Observation become more settled and mature; but I find,

that, quite contrary, it is like a Horse that has broke from his Rider, who voluntarily runs into a much more violent Career than any Horseman would put him to, and creates me so many Chimaera's and fantastick Monsters one upon another, without Order or De­sign, that, the better at leisure to contemplate their Strangeness and Absurdity, I have begun to commit them to Writing, hoping in time to make them asham'd of themselves.

CHAP. IX. Of Lyers.

THere is not a Man living, whom it would so little become to speak of Memory as my self, for I have none at all; and do not think that the World has again another so treacherous as mine. My other Fa­culties are all very ordinary and mean; but in this I think my self very singular, and to such a Degree of Excellence, that (besides [Page 50] the Inconvenience I suffer by it, which merits something) I deserve, methinks, to be famous for it, and to have more than a common Re­putation: though, in truth, the necessary [...] of Memory consider'd, Plato had Reason when he call'd it a great and powerful God­dess. In my Country, when they would de­cipher a Man that has no Sence, they say, such a one has no Memory; and when I com­plain of mine, they seem not to believe I am in earnest, and presently reprove me, as tho I accus'd my self for a Fool, not discerning the Difference betwixt Memory and Under­standing; wherein they are very wide of my Intention, and do me Wrong: Experience rather daily shewing us on the contrary, that a strong Memory is commonly coupled with infirm Judgment: and they do me more­over (who am so perfect in nothing as the good Friend) at the same time a greater Wrong in this, that they make the same Words which accuse my Infirmity, represent me for an ingrateful Person; wherein they bring my Integrity and good Nature into Question upon the account of my Memory, and from a natural Imperfection, unjustly de­rive a defect of Conscience. He has forgot, says one, this Request, or that Promise; he no more remembers his Friends, he has for­got to say or do, or to conceal such and such a thing for my sake. And truly, I am apt enough to forget many things, but to neglect any [Page 51] thing my Friend has given me in charge, I never do it. And it should be enough, me­thinks, that I feel the Misery and Inconveni­ence of it, without branding me with Malice, a Vice so much a Stranger, and so contrary to my Nature. However, I derive these Comforts from my Infirmity; first, that it is an Evil from which principally I have found reason to correct a worse, that would easily enough have grown upon me, namely, Ambi­tion; this Defect being intolerable in those who take upon them the Negotiations of the World, an Employment of the greatest Ho­nour and Trust among Men: secondly, that (as several like Examples in the Progress of Nature demonstrate to us) she has fortified me in my other Faculties, proportionably as she has unfurnish'd me in this; I should otherwise have been apt implicitely to have repos'd my Wit and Judgment upon the bare Report of other Men, without ever setting them to work upon any Inquisition whatever, had the strange Inventions and Opinions of the Authors I have read been ever present with me by the Benefit of Memory: thirdly, That by this Means I am not so talkative, for the Magazine of the Memory is ever better furnish'd with matter than that of the Inven­tion; and had mine been faithful to me, I had e're this, deaf'd all my Friends with my eternal Babble, the Subjects themselves row­sing and stirring up the little Faculty I have [Page 52] of handling, and applying them, heating and extending my Discourse. 'Tis a great Imper­fection, and what I have observ'd in several of my intimate Friends, who, as their Memo­ries supply them with a present and entire Review of things, derive their Narrative from so remote a Fountain, and crowd them with so many impertinent Circumstances, that though the Story be good in it self, they make a shift to spoil it; and if otherwise, you are either to curse the Strength of their Me­mory, or the Weakness of their Judgment: and it is a hard thing to close up a Discourse, and to cut it short, when you are once in, and have a great deal more to say. Neither is there any thing wherein the Force and Rea­diness of a Horse is so much seen, as in a round, graceful, and sudden stop; and I see even those who are pertinent enough, who would, but cannot stop short in their Career: for whilst they are seeking out a handsome Peri­od to conclude the Sense, they talk at ran­dom, and are so perplex'd, and entangled in their own Eloquence, that they know not what they say. But above all, old Men, who yet retain the Memory of things past, and forget how often they have told them, are the most dangerous Company for this fault; and I have known Stories from the Mouth of a Man of very great Quality, otherwise very pleasant in themselves, become very trouble­some, by being a hundred times repeated over [Page 53] and over again. The fourth Obligation I have to this infirm Memory of mine, is, that by this means I less remember the Injuries I have receiv'd; insomuch, that (as the Ancient said) I should have a Protocole, a Register of Inju­ries, or a Prompter, like Darius, who, that he might not forget the Offence he had receiv'd from those of Athens, so oft as he sat down to Dinner, order'd one of his Pages three times to whoop in his Ear, Sir, remember the Athenians: and also, the Places which I revi­sit, and the Books I read over again, still smile upon me with a fresh Novelty. It is not without good Reason said, That he who has not a good Memory should never take upon him the Trade of Lying. I know very well, that the Grammarians distinguish betwixt an Vntruth and a Lye, and say, that to tell an Vntruth is to tell a thing that is false, but that we our selves believe to be true; and that to Lye, is to tell a thing which we know in our Conscience to be utterly false and un­true; and it is of this last sort of Lyers only that I now speak. Now these do either whol­ly contrive and invent the Untruths they ut­ter, or so alter and disguise a true Story, that it always ends in a Lye; and when they dis­guise and often alter the same Story accord­ing to their own Fancy, 'tis very hard for them at one time or another to escape being trap'd, by reason that the real Truth of the Thing having first taken Possession of the [Page 54] Memory, and being there lodg'd, and im­printed by the way of Knowledge and Sci­ence, it will be ever ready to present it self to the Imagination, and to shoulder out any Falshood of their own contriving, which can­not there have so sure and settled Footing as the other; and the Circumstances of the first true Knowledge evermore running in their Minds, will be apt to make them forget those that are illegitimate, and only forg'd by their own Fancy. In what they wholly invent, forasmuch as there is no contrary Impression to justle their Invention, there seems to be less danger of tripping; and yet even this al­so, by reason it is a vain Body, and without any other Foundation than Fancy only, is very apt to escape the Memory, if they be not careful to make themselves very perfect in their Tale. Of which I have had very pleasant Experience, at the Expence of such as profess only to form, and accommodate their Speech▪ to the Affair they have in hand, or to the Humour of the Person with whom they have to do; for the Circumstances to which these men stick not to enslave their Con­sciences; and their Faith being subject to se­veral Changes, their Language must according­ly vary: from whence it happens, that of the same thing they tell one Man, that it is this, and another that it is that, giving it several Forms and Colours; which Men, if they once come to confer Notes, and find out the [Page 55] Cheat, what becomes of this fine Art? To which may be added, that they must of Ne­cessity very often ridiculously trap themselves; for, what Memory can be sufficient to retain so many different Shapes as they have forg'd upon one and the same Subject? I have known many in my Time, very ambitious of the re­pute of this fine piece of Discretion; but they do not see, that if there be a Reputati­on of being wise, there is really no Prudence in it. In plain Truth, Lying is a hateful and an accursed Vice. We are not Men, nor have other Tye upon one another, but our Word. If we did but discover the Horror and ill Consequences of it, we should pursue it with Fire and Sword, and more justly than other Crimes. I see that Parents commonly, and with Indiscretion enough, correct their Chil­dren for little innocent Faults, and torment them for wanton childish Tricks, that have neither Impression, nor tend to any Conse­quence: whereas, in my Opinion, Lying on­ly, and (what is of something a lower Form) Stomach, are the Faults which are to be se­verely whip'd out of them, both in the In­fancy and Progress of the Vices, which will otherwise grow up and increase with them; and after a Tongue has once got the Knack of lying, 'tis not to be imagined how impos­sible almost it is to reclaim it. Whence it comes to pass, that we see some, who are otherwise very honest Men, so subject to this [Page 56] Vice. I have an honest Lad to my Taylor, who I never knew guilty of one Truth, no not when it had been to his Advantage. If Falshood had, like Truth, but one Face only, we should be upon better Terms; for we should then take the contrary to what the Lyer says for certain Truth; but the Reverse of Truth has a hundred thousand Figures, and a Field indefinite without Bound or Limit. The Pythagoreans make Good to be certain and finite, and Evil, infinite and uncertain; there are a thousand ways to miss the White, there is only one to hit it. For my own part, I have this Vice in so great horror, that I am not sure I could prevail with my Con­science to secure my self from the most mani­fest and extream Danger, by an impudent and solemn Lye. An ancient Father says, That a Dog we know is better Company than a Man whose Language we do not understand. Ut externus non alieno sit hominis vice,Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. 7. cap. 1. As a Foreigner, to one that understands not what he says, cannot be said to supply the Place of a Man, because he can be no Company. And how much less sociable is false Speaking than Silence? King Francis the First brag'd, that he had, by this means, non-plus'd Franciso Taverna, the Embassador of Francisco Sforza, Duke of Milan, a Man very famous for his Eloquence in those days. This Gentleman had been sent to excuse his Master to his Ma­jesty about a thing of very great Conse­quence; [Page 57] which was this: King Francis, to maintain evermore some Intelligence in Italy, out of which he had lately been driven, and particularly in the Dutchy of Milan, had thought it (to that end) convenient to have evermore a Gentleman on his Behalf to lye Leiger in the Court of that Duke; an Am­bassadour in Effect, but in outward Appear­ance no other than a private Person who pre­tended to reside there upon the single Ac­count of his own particular Affairs; which was so carried, by reason that the Duke, much more depending upon the Emperour, especially at a time when he was in a Treaty of a Marriage with his Neece, Daughter to the King of Denmark, and since Dowager of Lorrain, could not own any Friendship or Intelligence with us, but very much to his own Prejudice. For this Commission then one Merveille a Millanois Gentleman, and a Querry to the King, being thought very fit, he was accordingly dispatch'd thither with private Letters of Credence, his Instructions of Ambassadour, and other Letters of Recom­mendation to the Duke about his own private Concerns, the better to colour the Business; and so long continued in that Court, that the Emperour at last had some Incling of his real Employment there, and complain'd of it to the Duke, which was the Occasion of what followed after, as we suppose; which was, that under Pretence of a Murther by him [Page 58] committed, his Tryal was in two days dis­patch'd, and his Head in the Night strook off in Prison. Signior Francisco then being up­on this Account, came to the Court of France, and, prepar'd with a long counterfeit Story to excuse a thing of so dangerous Ex­ample, (for the King had apply'd himself to all the Princes of Christendom, as well as to the Duke himself, to demand Satisfaction for this Outrage upon the Person of his Minister) had his Audience at the morning Council; where, after he had for the Support of his Cause, in a long premeditated Oration, laid open several plausible Justifications of the Fact, he concluded, that the Duke his Ma­ster had never look'd upon this Merveille for other than a private Gentleman, and his own Subject, who was there only in order to his own Business, neither had he ever liv'd after any other manner; absolutely disowning that he had ever heard he was one of the King's Domestick Servants, or that his Majesty so much as knew him, so far was he from taking him for an Ambassadour. When having made an end, and the King pressing him with se­veral Objections and Demands, and sifting him on all hands, gravell'd him at last, by asking, why then the Execution was perform­ed by Night, and as is were by Stealth? At which the poor confounded Ambassador, the more handsomly to disingage himself, made Answer, That the Duke would have been [Page 59] very loath, out of Respect to his Majesty, that such an Execution should have been per­form'd in the Face of the Sun. Any one may guess if he was not well school'd when he came home, for having so grosly trip'd in the Presence of a Prince of so delicate a Nostril as King Francis. Pope Julius the Second, ha­ving sent an Ambassadour to the King of England, to animate him against King Fran­cis, the Ambassadour having had his Audi­ence, and the King, before he would give a positive Answer, insisting upon the Difficul­ties he found in setting on foot so great a Pre­paration as would be necessary to attack so potent a King, and urging some Reasons to that Effect, the Ambassadour very unseasona­bly reply'd, that he had also himself consi­dered the same difficulties, and had repre­sented as much to the Pope. From which Saying of his, so directly opposite to the Thing propounded, and the Business he came about, which was immediately to incite him to War, the King first deriv'd Argument, (which also he afterwards found to be true) that this Ambassadour, in his own private Bosom, was a Friend to the French; of which having advertis'd the Pope, his Estate at his Return home was confiscate, and him­self very narrowly escap'd the losing of his Head.

CHAP. X. Of quick or slow Speech.

AS we see in the Gift of Eloquence, where­in some have such a Facility and Promptness, and that which we call a present Wit, so easie, that they are ever ready upon all Occasions, and never to be surpriz'd: and others more heavy and slow, never venture to utter any thing but what they have long premeditated, and taken great Care and Pains to fit and prepare. Now, as we teach young Ladies those Sports and Exercises which are most proper to set out the Grace and Beauty of those Parts wherein their chiefest Orna­ment and Perfection lye; so in these two ad­vantages of Eloquence, to which the Law­yers and Preachers of our Age seem princi­pally to pretend. If I were worthy to ad­vise, the slow Speaker, methinks, should be more proper for the Pulpit, and the other for the Bar; and that because the Employ­ment of the first does naturally allow him all the Leisure he can desire to prepare himself, and besides, his Career is perform'd in an even [Page 61] and unintermitted Line, without stop or in­terruption; whereas, the Pleader's Business and Interest compells him to enter the Lists upon all Occasions, and the unexpected Ob­jections and Replies of his adverse Party, ju­stle him out of his Course, and put him, up­on the Instant, to pump for new and extem­pore Answers and Defences. Yet, at the In­terview betwixt Pope Clement and King Francis at Marcelles, it hapned quite con­trary, that Monsieur Poyett, a man bred up all his Life at the Bar, and in the highest Re­pute for Eloquence, having the Charge of making the Harangue to the Pope committed to him, and having so long meditated on it before-hand, as (as it was said) to have brought it ready made along with him from Paris; the very day it was to have been pro­nounc'd, the Pope, fearing something might be said that might give Offence to the other Princes Ambassadors who were there attend­ing on him, sent to acquaint the King with the Argument which he conceiv'd most suit­ing to the Time and Place, but by chance quite another thing to that Monsieur de Poy­ett had taken so much Pains about: so that the fine Speech he had prepared, was of no use, and he was upon the Instant to contrive another; which finding himself unable to do, Cardinal Bellay was constrain'd to per­form that Office. The Pleader's Part is, doubtless, much harder than that of the [Page 62] Preacher; and yet, in my Opinion, we see more passable Lawyers than Preachers. It should seem that the nature of Wit is, to have its ope­ration prompt and sudden, and that of Judg­ment, to have it more deliberate, and more slow: but he who remains totally silent for want of leisure to prepare himself to speak well, and he also whom leisure does no ways benefit to better speaking, are equally unhappy. 'Tis said of Severus, that he spoke best extempore, Severus Cassius. that he stood more ob­lig'd to Fortune, than his own Diligence, that it was an advantage to him to be inter­rupted in speaking, and that his Adversaries were afraid to nettle him, lest his Anger should redouble his Eloquence. I know experi­mentally, a Disposition so impatient of a te­dious and elaborate Premeditation, that if it do not go frankly and gayly to work, can perform nothing to purpose. We say of some Compositions, that they stink of Oyl, and smell of the Lamp, by reason of a certain rough harshness that the laborious handling imprints upon those where great Force has been employ'd: but besides this, the solicitude of doing well, and a certain striving and contending of a mind too far strain'd, and over-bent upon its Undertaking, breaks, and hinders it self, like Water, that by force of its own pressing violence and abundance, cannot find a ready issue through the neck of a Bot­tle, or a narrow Sluce. In this condition of [Page 63] Nature, of which I was now speaking, there is this also, that it would not be disorder'd, and stimulated with such a Passion as the Fu­ry of Cassius; for such a Motion would be too violent and rude: it would not be just­led, but sollicited, and would be rouz'd and heated by unexpected, sudden, and acciden­tal Occasions. If it be left to it self, it flags and languishes, Agitation only gives it grace and vigour. I am alwayes worst in my own possession, and when wholly at my own dis­pose, Accident has more title to any thing that comes from me, than I; Occasion, Com­pany, and even the very rising and falling of my own Voice, extract more from my Fancy, than I can find when I examin and employ it by my self; by which means, the things I say are better than those I write, if either were to be prefer'd, where neither are worth any thing. This also befalls me, that I am at a loss, when I seek, and light upon things more by chance, than by any inquisition of my own Judgment. I perhaps sometimes hit upon something when I write that seems queint and spritely to me, but will appear dull and heavy to another. But let us leave this Subject. Every one talks thus of himself according to his Talent. For my part, I am already so lost in it, that I know not what I was about to say, and in such cases, a stranger often finds it out before me. If I should al­ways carry my Razor about me, to use so [Page 64] oft as this inconvenience befalls me, I should make clean work: but some Occurrence or other, may at some other time, lay it as visi­ble to me as the Light, and make me wonder what I should stick at.

CHAP. XI. Of Prognostications.

FOr what concerns Oracles, it is certain, that a good while before the coming of our Saviour Christ, they began to lose their Credit; for we see that Cicero is troubled to find out the cause of their decay, in these words;Cic. de Di­vin. l. 2. Cur isto modo jam Oracula Delphis non eduntur, non modo nostra aetate, sed jam diu, ut nihil possit esse contemptius? What should be the reason that the Oracles at Delphos are so utter'd, not only in this Age of ours, but moreover a great while ago, that nothing can be more contemptible? But as to the other Prognosticks, calculated from the Anatomy of Beasts at Sacrifices, (which Plato does in part attribute to the natural Constitution of the Intestines of the Beasts themselves) the scraping of Poultry, the flights of Birds: Aves quasdam rerum augu­randarum causa natus esse putamus;Cic. de Na­tura Deor. l. 2. We think some sorts of Birds to be purposely created upon the account of Augury, Claps of Thun­der [Page 65] the winding of Rivers, Ibidem. Multa cernunt Auruspices, multa Augures provident, multa Ora­culis declarantur, multa Vaticinationibus, mul­ta Somniis, multa Portentis, Soothsayers and Augurs conjecture and foresee many things, and many things are foretold in Oracles, Pro­phecies, Dreams, and Portents; and others of the like Nature, upon which Antiquity founded most of their publick and private Enterprizes, Christian Religion has totally abolish'd. And although there yet remain amongst us some Practices of Divination from the Stars, from Spirits, from the Shapes and Complexions of men, for Dreams and the like, (a notable Example of the wild curiosi­ty of our Nature to grasp at and anticipate future things, as if we had not enough to do to digest the present)

(Ne utile quidem est scire quid futurum sit: Miserum est enim nihil proficientem angi: It is not indeed convenient to know what shall come to pass; for it is a miserable thing to be vex'd and tormented to no purpose.) Yet are they of much less Authority now than here­tofore. Which makes the Example of Francis Marquess of Saluzzo so much more remarka­ble; who being Lieutenant to King Francis the First, in his Army beyond the Mountains, infinitely favour'd and esteem'd in our Court, and oblig'd to the King's Bounty for the Mar­quizate it self, which had been forfeited by his Brother; and as to the rest, having no manner of Provocation given him to do it, and even his own Affection opposing any such Disloyalty; suffer'd himself to be so ter­rified (as it was confidently reported) with the fine Prognosticks that were spread abroad in favour of the Emperour Charles the Fifth, and to our Disadvantage, (especially in Italy, where these foolish Prophecies were so far believ'd, that great Sums of Money were laid, and others ventur'd out upon return of great­er when they came to pass, so certain they made themselves of our Ruine) that having bewail'd to those of his Acquaintance who were most intimate with him, the Mischiefs [Page 67] that he saw would inevitably fall upon the Crown of France, and the Friends he had in that Court, he unhandsomely revolted, and turn'd to the other side; but to his own Mis­fortune nevertheless, what Constellation so­ever govern'd at that time. But he carried himself in this Affair like a Man agitated with divers Passions; for having both Towns and Forces in his hands, the Enemy's Army un­der Antonio de Leva close by him, and we not at all suspecting his Design, it had been in his Power to have done more than he did; for we lost no Men by this Infidelity of his, nor any Town, but Fossan only, and that after a long Siege, and a brave Defence.

And those who take this Sentence in a con­trary Sense,Cic. de Di­vin. l. 2. interpret it amiss. Ista sic recipro­cantur, ut & si Divinatio sit, Dii sint, & si Dii sint, sit Divinatio, These things have that mu­tual Relation to one another, that if there be such a thing as Divination, there must be Deities; and if Deities, Divination: much more wisely Pacuvius;

The so celebrated Art of Divination amongst the Tuscans, took its Beginning thus: A Labourer striking deep with his Cul­ter [Page 69] into the Earth, saw the Demy-God Indiginae dixere Ta­gem, qui primus He­truscam. Edocuit gen­tem casus aperire fu­turos. Ovid. Meta. l. 15. Ta­ges to ascend with an Infantine Aspect, but endued with a mature and Senile Wisdom. Upon the Rumour of which, all the People ran to see the sight, by whom his Words and Science, containing the Principles and means to attain to this Art, were recorded, and kept for many Ages. A Birth sutable to its Progress! I for my part should sooner regu­late my Affairs by the chance of a Die, than by such idle and vain Dreams. And indeed, in all Republicks, a good share of the Go­vernment has ever been referr'd to chance. Plato, in the civil Regiment that he models according to his own Fancy, leaves the De­cision of several things of very great Impor­tance wholly to it, and will, amongst other things, that such Marriages as he reputes legi­timate and good, be appointed by Lot, and attributing so great Vertue, and adding so great a Priviledge to this accidental choice, as to ordain the Children begot in such Wed­lock to be brought up in the Country, and those begot in any other to be thrust out as spurious and base; yet so, that if any of those Exiles, notwithstanding, should peradventure in growing up give any early hopes of future Vertue, they were in a Capacity of being re­call'd, as those also who had been retain'd were of being exil'd in case they gave little Expectation of themselves in their greener Years. I see some who are mightily given to [Page 70] Study, pore and comment upon their Alma­nacks, and produce them for Authority when any thing has fall'n out pat: though it is hardly possible, but that these well-Wishers to the Mathematicks in saying so much, must sometimes stumble upon some Truths amongst an infinite Number of Lies. Quis est enim qui totum diem jaculans non aliquando conti­neet? Adagium Cic. de Di­vin. For who shoots all day at Buts that does not sometimes hit the White? I think never the better of them for some accidental Hits. There would be more certainty in it if there were a Rule and a Truth of always ly­ing. Besides, no Body records their Flim-flams and false Prognosticks, forasmuch as they are infinite and common; but if they chop upon one Truth, that carries a mighty Report, as being rare, incredible, and pro­digious. So Diogenes, surnam'd the Atheist, answer'd him in Samothrace, who shewing him in the Temple the several Offerings and Stories, in Painting, of those who had escap'd Shipwrack, said to him, Look you (said he) you who think the Gods have no care of humane things, what do you say by so many Persons preserv'd from Death by their especial Favour? Why, I say, (answer'd he) that their Pictures are not here who were cast away, which were by much the greater number. Cicero observes, that of all the Philosophers who have ac­knowledg'd a Deity, Xenophanes only has en­deavour'd to eradicate all manner of Divina­tion: [Page 71] which makes it the less a Wonder, if we have sometimes seen some of our Princes, to their own cost, relye too much upon these Fopperies. I wish I had given any thing, that I had with my own Eyes seen those two great Rarities, the Book of Joachim the Ca­labrian Abbot, which foretold all the future Popes, their Names, and Figures; and that of the Emperour Leo, which prophecied of all the Emperours and Patriarchs of Greece. This I have been an Eye-witness of, that in publick Confusions, men astonish'd at their Fortune, have abandoned their own Reason superstitiously to seek out in the Stars the an­cient Causes and Menaces of their present mishaps, and in my time have been so strange­ly successful in it, as to make men believe, that this Study, being proper to fix and settle piercing and volatile Wits, those who have been any thing vers'd in this knack of unfold­ing and untying Riddles, are capable in any sort of Writing, to find out what they de­sire. But above all, that which gives them the greatest Room to play in, is the obscure, ambiguous, and fantastick Gibberish of their prophetick Canting, where their Authors de­liver nothing of clear Sense, but shroud all in Riddle, to the end that Posterity may in­terpret, and apply it according to their own Fancy. Socrates his Daemon, or Familiar, might perhaps be no other but a certain Im­pulsion of the Will, which obtruded it self [Page 72] upon him without the advice or consent of his Judgment; and in a Soul so enlightned as his was, and so prepar'd by a continual exercise of Wisdom and Virtue, 'tis to be sup­pos'd, those Inclinations of his, though sud­den and undigested, were ever very impor­tant, and worthy to be follow'd. Every one finds in himself some Image of such Agitati­ons, of a prompt, vehement, and foetuitous Opinion. 'Tis I that am to allow them some Authority, who attribute so little to our own Prudence, and who also my self have had some, weak in Reason, but violent in Per­swasion and Disswasion, (which were most frequent with Socrates) by which I have suf­fer'd my self to be carried away so foetunate­ly, and so much to my own Advantage, that they might have been judg'd to have had something in them of a Divine Inspiration.

CHAP. XII. Of Constancy.

THE Law of Resolution and Constancy does not imply, that we ought not, as much as in us lies, to decline, and to se­cure our selves from the Mischiefs and Incon­veniencies that threaten us; nor consequent­ly, that we shall not fear lest they should surprize us: on the contrary, all decent and [Page 73] honest ways and means of securing our selves from Harms, are not only permitted, but moreover commendable, and the Business of Constancy chiefly is, bravely to stand to, and stoutly to suffer those Inconveniences which are not otherwise possibly to be avoid­ed. There is no motion of Body, nor any guard in the handling of Arms, how irregu­lar or ungraceful soever, that we dislike or condemn, if they serve to deceive or to de­fend the Blow that is made against us; inso­much, that several very warlike Nations have made use of a retiring and flying away of Fight, as a thing of singular Advantage, and by so doing have made their Backs more dan­gerous than their Faces to their Enemies. Of which kind of Fighting, the Turks yet retain something in their Practice of Arms to this day; and Socrates, in Plato, laughs at Laches, who had defin'd Fortitude to be a standing firm in their Ranks against the Enemy: What (says he) would it then be a reputed Cowardize to overcome them by giving Ground? urging at the same time the Authority of Homer, who commends Aeneas for his Skill in run­ning away. And whereas Laches, considering better on't, justifies his first Argument upon the Practice of the Scythians, and in general all Cavalry whatever, he again attacks him with the Example of the Lacedaemonian Foot, (a Nation of all other the most obstinate in maintaining their Ground) who in all the [Page 74] Battel of Platea, not being able to break into the Persian Phalanx, unbethought themselves to disperse and retire, that by the Enemies supposing they fled, they might break, and disunite that vast Body of Men in the Pur­suit, and by that Stratagem obtain'd the Vi­ctory. As for the Scythians, 'tis said of them▪ that when Darius went his Expedition to sub­due them, he sent, by an Herald, highly to reproach their King, That he always retir'd be­fore him, and declin'd a Battel; to which In­dathyrsez (for that was his Name) return'd Answer, That it was not for fear of him, or of any Man living, that he did so, but that it was the way of Marching in practice with his Nati­on, who had neither till'd Fields, Cities, nor Houses to defend, or to fear the Enemy should make any Advantage of: but that if he had such a Stomach to fight, let him but come to view their ancient place of Sepulture, and there he should have his Fill. Nevertheless, as to what concerns Cannon Shot, when a Body of Men are drawn up in the Face of a Train of Artil­lery, as the Occasion of War does often re­quire, 'tis unhandsome to quit their Post to avoid the Danger, and a foolish thing to boot, forasmuch as by reason of its Violence and Swiftness we account it inevitable, and many a one, by ducking, stepping aside, and such other motions of Fear, has been suffici­ently laugh'd at by his Companions. And yet in the Expedition that the Emperour [Page 75] Charles the Fifth made into Provence, the Marquis de Guast going to discover the City of Arles, and venturing to advance out of the Blind of a Wind-mill, under favour of which he had made his Approach, was per­ceiv'd by the Seigneurs de Bonneval and the Seneschal of Agenois, who were walking up­on the Theatre Aux arenes; who having shewed him to the Sieur de Villiers, A Theatre where pub­lick Shews of Riding, Fencing, &c. were exhibited. Commis­sary of the Artillery, he travers'd a Culverine so admirable well, and levell'd it so exactly right against him, that had not the Marquis, seeing Fire given to it, slip'd aside, it was certainly concluded, the Shot had taken him full in the Body. And in like manner, some Years before, Lorenzo de Medici, Duke of Vrbin, and Father to the Queen-Mother of France, laying Siege to Mondolpho, a Place in the Territories of the Vicariat in Italy, see­ing the Cannoneer give Fire to a Piece that pointed directly against him, it was well for him that he duck'd, for otherwise, the Shot, that only raz'd the top of his Head, had doubtless hit him full in the Breast. To say truth, I do not think that these Evasions are perform'd upon the account of Judgment; for how is any Man living able to judge of high or low Aim on so sudden an Occasion? And it is much more easie to believe, that Fortune favour'd their Apprehension, and that it might be a means at another time, as well to make them step into the danger, as to teach [Page 76] them to avoid it. For my own part, I con­fess, I cannot forbear starting when the Rattle of a Harquebuze thunders in my Ears on a sudden, and in a Place where I am not to expect it, which I have also observ'd in others, braver Fellows than I; neither do the Stoicks pretend, that the Soul of their Philosopher should be proof against the first Visions and Fantasies that surprize him; but as a natural Subject, consent that he should tremble at the terrible noise of Thunder, or the sudden Clat­ter of some falling Ruine, and be affrighted even to Paleness and Convulsion. And so in other Passions, provided a Man's Judg­ment remain sound and entire, and that the Scite of his Reason suffers no Concussion nor Alteration, and that he yields no consent to his Fright and Discomposure. To him who is not a Philosopher, a Fright is the same in the first part of it, but quite another thing in the second; for the Impression of Passions does not remain only superficially in him, but penetrates further, even to the very Seat of Reason, and so, as to infect and to corrupt it. He judges according to his Fear, and con­firms his Behaviour to it. But in this Verse you may see the true State of the wise Stoick learnedly and plainly express'd:

The wise Peripatetick is not himself total­ly free from perturbations of Mind, but he moderates them by his Wisdom.

CHAP. XIII. The Ceremony of the Interview of Princes.

THere is no Subject so frivolous, that does not merit a Place in this Rapsody. Ac­cording to the common Rule of Civility, it would be a kind of an Affront to an Equal, and much more to a Superiour, to fail of be­ing at home, when he has given you notice he will come to visit you. Nay, Queen Margaret of Navarr further adds, that it would be a Rudeness in a Gentleman to go out to meet any that is coming to see him, let him be of what condition soever; and that it is more respective, and more civil to stay at home to receive him, if only upon the ac­count of missing of him by the way, and that is enough to receive him at the door, and to wait upon him to his Chamber. For my part, who as much as I can endeavour to re­duce the Ceremonies of my House, I very often forget both the one and the other of these vain Offices, and peradventure some one [Page 78] may take Offence at it; if he do, I am sorry, but I cannot find in my heart to help it; it is much better to offend him once, than my self every day, for it would be a perpetual slavery; and to what end do we avoid the servile attendance of Courts, if we bring the same, or a greater trouble, home to our own private houses? It is also a common Rule in all Assemblies, that those of less quality are to be first upon the Place, by reason that it is a State more due to the better Sort to make others wait and expect them. Nevertheless, at the Interview betwixt Pope Clement and King Francis at Marselles, the King, after he had in his own Person taken order in the neces­sary Preparations for his Reception and En­tertainment, withdrew out of the Town, and gave the Pope two or three dayes respite for his Entry, and wherein to repose and refresh himself before he came to him. And in like manner, at the Assignation of the Pope and the Emperour at Bolognia, the Emperour gave the Pope leave to come thither first, and came himself after; for which, the reason then given was this; that at all the Inter­views of such Princes, the greater ought to be first at the appointed Place, especially be­fore the other, in whose Territories the In­terview is appointed to be, intimating there­by a kind of deference to the other, it ap­pearing proper for the less to seek out, and to apply themselves to the greater, and not [Page 79] the greater to them. Not every Country on­ly, but every City, and so much as every So­ciety, have their particular Forms of Civility. There was care enough taken in my Educa­tion, and I have liv'd in good Company enough to know the Formalities of our own Nation, and am able to give Lesson in it; I love also to follow them, but not to be so servilely tyed to their observation, that my whole Life should be enslav'd to Ceremony; of which there are some, that provided a man omits them out of Discretion, and not for want of Breeding, it will be every whit as handsom. I have seen some People rude, by being over-civil, and troublesome in their Courtesie: though, these Excesses excepted, the knowledge of Courtesie and good Man­ners is a very necessary study. It is, like Grace and Beauty, that which begets liking and an inclination to love one another at the first sight, and in the beginning of an Ac­quaintance and Familiarity; and consequent­ly, that which first opens the door, and in­tromits us to Better our selves by the Exam­ple of others, if there be any thing in their Society worth taking notice of.

CHAP. XIV. That Men are justly punish'd for being obsti­nate in the Defence of a Fort that is not in reason to be defended.

VAlour has its bounds, as well as other Vertues, which once transgress'd, the next step is into the Territories of Vice, so that by having too large a Proportion of this Heroick Vertue, unless a man be very perfect in its li­mits, which upon the Consines are very hard to discern, he may very easily unawares run into Temerity, Obstinacy, and Folly. From this consideration it is, that we have deriv'd the Custom in times of War, to punish even with Death those who are obstinate to de­fend a Place that is not tenable by the Rules of War. In which case, if there were not some Examples made, men would be so con­fident upon the hopes of Impunity, that not a Hen-roost but would resist, and stop a Roy­al Army. The Constable Monsieur de Mont­morency, having at the Siege of Pavie been order'd to pass the Tesine, and to take up his Quarters in the Fauxbourg St. Antonie, being hindred so to do by a Tower that was at the end of the Bridge, which was so impudent as to endure a Battery, hang'd every man he found within it for their labour. And again since, accompanying the Daulphin in his Ex­pedition [Page 81] beyond the Alps, and taking the Ca­stle of Villane by Assault, and all within it being put to the Sword, the Governour and his Ensign only excepted, he caus'd them both to be truss'd up for the same reason; as also did Captain Martin du Bellay, then Gover­nour of Turin, the Governour of St. Bony, in the same Country, all his People being cut in pieces at the taking of the Place. But foras­much as the Strength or Weakness of a For­tress is always measur'd by the Estimate and Counterpoise of the Forces that attack it (for a Man might reasonably enough despise two Culverines, that would be a Mad-man to abide a Battery of thirty pieces of Cannon) where also the Greatness of the Prince who is Master of the Field, his Reputation, and the Respect that is due unto him, is always put into the Ballance, 'tis dangerous to affront such an Enemy: and besides, by compelling him to force you, you possess him with so great an Opinion of himself and his Power, that thinking it unreasonable any Place should dare to shut their Gates against his victorious Army, he puts all to the Sword, where he meets with any Opposition, whilst his For­tune continues; as is very plain in the fierce and arrogant Forms of summoning Towns, and denouncing War, savouring so much of Barbarian Pride and Insolence in use amongst the Oriental Princes, and which their Suc­cessors to this day do yet retain and practice. [Page 82] And even in that remote Part of the World where the Portuguese subdued the Indians, they found some States where it was an uni­versal and inviolable Law amongst them, that every Enemy, overcome by the King in Per­son, or by his representative Lieutenant, was out of Composition both of Ransome and Mercy. So that above all things, a Man should take heed of falling into the hands of a Judge who is an Enemy and victorious.

CHAP. XV. Of the Punishment of Cowardize.

I Once heard of a Prince, and a great Captain, having a Narration given him as he sat at Table of the Proceeding against Monsieur de Vervius, who was sentenc'd to Death for having surrendred Bullen to the English, openly maintain'd, that a Souldier could not justly be put to Death for his want of Cou­rage. And, in truth, a Man should make a great Difference betwixt Faults that merely proceed from Infirmity, and those that are visibly the Effects of Treachery and Malice: for in the last they will fully act against the Rules of Reason, that Nature has imprinted in us; whereas in the former it seems as if we might produce the same Nature, who left us in such a state of Imperfection, and defect [Page 83] of Courage for our justification. Insomuch, that many have thought we are not justly questionable for any thing but what we com­mit against the Light of our own Conscience. And it is partly upon this Rule, that those ground their Opinion, who disapprove of Ca­pital and Sanguinary Punishments inflicted upon Hereticks and Miscreants; and theirs al­so, who hold that an Advocate or a Judge are not accountable for having ignorantly fail'd in their Administration. But as to Cowar­dize, it is most certain, that the most usu­al way of chastising that is by Ignominy and Disgrace; and it is suppos'd that this Pra­ctice was first brought into use by the Le­gislator Cherondas; and that before his time the Laws of Greece punish'd those with Death who fled from a Battel; whereas he ordain'd only that they should be three days expos'd in the publick Place dress'd in Womens At­tire, hoping yet for some Service from them, having awak'd their Courage by this open Shame; Suffundere malis hominis sanguinem quàm effundere, choosing rather to bring the Blood into their Cheeks than to let it out of their Bodies. It appears also, that the Ro­man Laws did anciently punish those with Death who had run away: for Ammianus Marcellinus says, that the Emperour Julian commanded ten of his Souldiers, who had turn'd their Backs in an Encounter against the Parthians, to be first degraded, and af­terwards [Page 84] put to death, according (says he) to the ancient Laws, and yet else-where, for the like Offence, he only condemns others to remain amongst the Prisoners under the Bag­gage Ensign. The punishment the People of Rome inflicted upon those who fled from the Battle of Cannae, and those who run away with Cneius Fulvius, at his Defeat, did not extend to death. And yet methinks Men should consider what they do in such Cases, lest disgrace should make such Delinquents desperate, and not only faint Friends, but implacable and mortal Enemies. Of late memory, the Seigneur de Franget, Lieute­nant to the Mareschal de Chattilion's Compa­ny, having by the Mareschal de Chabanes been put in Governour of Fontarabie, in the Place of Monsieur de Lude, and having sur­render'd it to the Spaniard, he was for that condemn'd to be degraded from all Nobility, and both himself and his Posterity declar'd ignoble, taxable, and for ever incapable of bearing Arms; which severe Sentence was afterwards accordingly executed at Lions: and since that, all the Gentlemen who were in Guise when Count Nassau enter'd into it underwent the same Punishment, as several others have done since for the like Offence. Notwithstanding, in case of such a manifest Ignorance or Cowardize as exceeds all other ordinary Example, 'tis but reason to take it for a sufficient Proof of Treachery and Ma­lice, [Page 85] and for such it ought to be censur'd and punish'd.

CHAP. XVI. A Proceeding of some Ambassadours.

I Observe in all my Travels this Custom, ever to learn something from the Informa­tion of those with whom I confer (which is the best School of all other) and to put my Company upon those Subjects they are the best able to speak of:

For it often falls out, that, on the contrary, every one will rather choose to be prating of another Man's Province than his own, think­ing it so much new Reputation acquir'd; wit­ness the Jeer Archidamus put upon Parian­der, That he had quitted the Glory of being an excellent Physician to gain the Repute of a very [Page 86] bad Poet. And do but observe how large and ample Caesar is to make us understand his Invention of building Bridges, and contriving Engines of War, and how succinct and re­serv'd in Comparison, where he speaks of the Offices of his Profession, his own Valour, and military Conduct. His Exploits sufficiently prove him a great Captain, and that he knew well enough; but he would be thought a good Engineer to boot; a quality something rare, and not much to be expected in him. The elder Dionysius was a very great Cap­tain, as it befitted his Fortune he should be; but he took very great Pains to get a parti­cular Reputation by Poetry, and yet he was never cut out for a Poet. A Gentleman of the long Robe being not long since brought to see a Study furnish'd with all sorts of Books, both of his own and all other Faculties, took no occasion at all to entertain himself with any of them, but fell very rudely and imper­tinently to descant upon a Barricado plac'd before the Study-door, a thing that a hun­dred Captains and common Souldiers see eve­ry day without taking any notice or offence.

By this course a Man shall never improve himself, nor arrive at any Perfection in any [Page 87] thing. He must therefore make it his Busi­ness, always to put the Architect, the Paint­er, the Statuary, as also every Mechanick Ar­tizan, upon discourse of their own Capaci­ties. And to this purpose, in reading Histo­ries, which is every Body's Subject, I use to consider what kind of Men are the Authors; which, if Persons that profess nothing but mere Learning, I, in and from them principal­ly observe and learn the Stile and Language; if Physicians, I upon that account the rather incline to credit what they report of the Temperature of the Air, of the Health and Complexions of Princes, of Wounds, and Diseases; if Lawyers, we are from them to take notice of the Controversies of Right and Title, the Establishment of Laws and Civil Government, and the like; if Divines, the Affairs of the Church, Ecclesiastical Censures, Marriages and Dispensations; if Courtiers, Manners and Ceremonies; if Souldiers, the things that properly belong to their Trade, and principally the Accounts of such Actions and Enterprizes wherein they were personal­ly engaged; and if Ambassadours, we are to observe their Negotiations, Intelligences, and Practices, and the Manner how they are to be carried on. And this is the reason why (which perhaps I should have lightly pass'd over in another) I dwelt upon and maturely consider'd one Passage in the History writ by Monsieur de Langey (a Man of very great [Page 88] Judgment in things of that nature) which was, after having given a Narrative of the fine Oration Charles the Fifth had made in the Consistory at Rome, and in the Presence of the Bishop of Mascon and Monsieur de Velley our Ambassadours there, wherein he had mixed several tart and injurious Expressions to the Dishonour of our Nation; and amongst the rest, That if his Captains and Souldiers were not Men of another kind of Fidelity, Re­solution, and sufficiency in the Knowledge of Arms, than those of the King, he would im­mediately go with a Rope about his Neck and sue to him for Mercy, (and it should seem the Emperour had really this, or a very little bet­ter Opinion of our military Men, for he af­terward, twice or thrice in his Life, said the very same thing) as also, that he challenged the King to fight him in his Shirt with Rapi­er and Poigniard in a Boat: the said Sieur de Langey pursuing his History, adds, that the forenam'd Ambassadours, sending a Dispatch to the King of these things, conceal'd the greatest part, and particularly the two last Passages. At which I could not but wonder, that it should be in the Power of an Ambas­sadour to dispence with any thing which he ought to signifie to his Master, especially of so great Importance as this, coming from the Mouth of such a Person, and spoke in so great an Assembly; and should rather con­ceive it had been the Servant's Duty faithful­ly [Page 89] to have represented to him the whole and naked Truth as it past, to the end, that the Liberty of disposing, judging, and conclu­ding, might absolutely have remain'd in him: for either to conceal, or to disguise the Truth for fear he should take it otherwise than he ought to do, and lest it should prompt him to some extravagant Resolution, and in the mean time to leave him ignorant of his Affairs, should seem, methinks, rather to belong to him who is to give the Law, than to him who is only to receive it; to him who is in supream Command, and best can judge of his own Interests, and not to him who ought to look upon himself as inferiour in Authority, so also in Prudence and good Counsel: but let it be how it will, I for my Part would be loth to be so serv'd in my little Concerns. We do so willingly slip the Collar of Com­mand upon any Pretence whatever, and are so ready to usurp upon Dominion, and every one does so naturally aspire to Liberty and Power, that no Utility whatever deriv'd from the Wit or Valour of those he does employ, ought to be so dear to a Superiour, as a down-right and sincere Obedience. To obey more upon the Account of Understanding than of Subjection, is to corrupt the Office, and to subvert the Power of Command; in­somuch that P. Crassus, the same whom the Romans reputed five times happy, at the time when he was Consul in Asia, having sent to [Page 90] a Greek Engineer to cause the greater of two Masts of Ships that he had taken notice of at Athens, to be brought to him, to be employ­ed about some Engine of Battery he had a design to make; the other, presuming upon his own Science, and sufficiency in those Af­fairs, thought fit to do otherwise than di­rected, and to bring the less; which also, ac­cording to the Rules of Art, was really more proper for the use to which it was design'd: but Crassus, though he gave ear to his Rea­sons with great Patience, would not how­ever take them, how sound or convincing soever, for current Pay, but yet remained so highly offended at his Disobedience, that he caus'd him to be sufficiently whip'd for his Pains, valuing the Interest of Discipline much more than of the thing. Notwithstanding, we may on the other side consider, that so precise and implicite an Obedience as this, is only due to positive and limited Commands. The Employment of an Ambassadour is never so confin'd; several things in the manage­ment of Affairs, and in the various and un­foreseen Occurrences and Accidents that may fall out in the Management of a Negotiation of this nature, being wholly referr'd to the absolute Sovereignty of their own Conduct: neither do they simply execute only, but al­so to their own Discretion and Wisdom form and model their Master's Pleasure; and I have in my time known Men of Command who [Page 91] have been check'd for having rather obeyed the express Words of the King's Letters, than the necessity of the Affairs they had in hand. Men of Understanding do yet to this day condemn the Custom of the Kings of Persia, to give their Lieutenants and Agents so little Rein, that upon the least arising Difficulties they must evermore have Recourse to their further Commands; this delay in so vast an extent of Dominion having often very much prejudic'd their Affairs. And Crassus, writing to a man whose Profession it was best to un­derstand those things, and pre-acquainting him to what use this Mast was design'd, did he not seem to consult his Advice, and in a manner invite him to interpose his better Judgment?

CHAP. XVII. Of Fear.

I Am not so good a Naturalist as to discern by what secret Springs Fear has its moti­on in us; but I am wise enough to know, that it is a strong Passion, and such a one, [Page 92] that the Physicians say there is no other what­ever that sooner disthrones our Judgment from its proper Seat; which is so true, that I my self have seen very many become frantick tho­rough Fear; and even in those of the best setled Temper, it is most certain, that it be­gets a terrible Astonishment and Confusion during the Fit. I omit the Vulgar sort, to whom it one while represents their Great-Grandsires, risen out of their Graves in their Shrowds, another while Hob-Goblins, Spe­cters, and Chimaera's: but even amongst Soul­diers (a sort of men over whom, of all others, it ought to have the least Power) how often has it converted Flocks of Sheep into armed Squadrons, Reeds and Bull-rushes in­to Pikes and Launces, Friends into Enemies, and the French White into the Red Crosses of Spain! When Monsieur de Bourbon took the City of Rome, an Ensign who was upon the Guard at the Bourg St. Pierre, was seiz'd with such a Fright upon the first Alarm, that he threw himself out at a Breach with his Colours upon his Shoulder, and ran directly upon the Enemy, thinking he had retreated toward the inward Defences of the City, and with much ado, seeing Monsieur de Bourbon's People, who thought it had been a Sally up­on them, draw up to receive him, at last came to himself, and saw his Error; and then fa­cing about, he retreated full speed thorough the same Breach by which he had gone out; [Page 93] but not till he had first blindly advanc'd above three hundred Paces into the open Field. It did not however fall out so well with Captain Julius his Ensign at the time when St. Paul was taken from us by the Count de Bures and Monsieur du Reu, for he, being so astonish'd with Fear, as to throw himself and his Fellows out at a Skyt-gate, was immediately cut to pieces by the Enemy; and in the same Siege it was a very memora­ble Fear, that so seiz'd, contracted, and froze up the Heart of a young Gentleman, that he sunk down stone dead in the Breach, with­out any manner of Wound or Hunt at all. The like Madness does sometimes push on a whole Multitude; for in one of the Encoun­ters that Germanicus had with the Germans, two great Parties were so amaz'd with Fear, that they ran two opposite ways, the one and the other to the same place, from which ei­ther of them had fled before. Sometimes it adds Wings to the Heels, as in the two first, and sometimes nails them to the Ground, and fetters them from moving; as we read of the Emperour Theophilus, who, in a Battel he lost against the Agarens, was so astonish'd and stupified, that he had no Power to fly; adeo pavor etiam auxilia formidat, Quint. Curt. l. 3. so much does Fear dread even the means of Safety; till such time as Manuel, one of the principal Com­manders of his Army, having jogg'd and shak'd him so as to rouze him out of his [Page 94] Trance, said to him, Sir, if you will not fol­low me, I will kill you: for it is better you should lose your Life, than, by being taken, to lose your Empire. But Fear does then mani­fest its utmost Power and Effect, when it throws us upon a valiant Despair, having be­fore depriv'd us of all sense both of Duty and Honour. In the first pitch'd Battel the Ro­mans lost against Hannibal, under the Consul Sempronius, a Body of ten thousand Foot, that had taken a Fright, seeing no other Escape for their Cowardize, went, and threw themselves head-long upon the great Battalion of the Enemies, which also with wonderful force and fury they charg'd thorough and thorough, and routed with a very great slaughter of the Carthaginians, by that means purchasing an ignominious flight at the same price they might have done a glorious Victory. The thing in the World I am most afraid of is Fear, and with good reason, that Passion a­lone, in the trouble of it, exceeding all other Accidents. What Affliction could be greater or more just than that of Pompey's Followers and Friends, who, in his Ship, were Specta­tors of that horrid and inhumane murther? Yet so it was, that the Fear of the Egyptian Vessels they saw coming to board them, pos­sess'd them with so great a Fear, that it is observ'd they thought of nothing, but calling upon the Mariners to make haste, and by force of Oars to escape away, till being ar­riv'd [Page 95] at Tyre, and deliver'd from the appre­hension of further danger, they then had lei­sure to turn their thoughts to the loss of their Captain, and to give vent to those tears and lamentations that the other more prevalent Passion had till then suspended.

Such as have been well bang'd in some Skirmish, may yet, all wounded and bloody as they are, be brought on again the next day to charge: but such as have once con­ceiv'd a good sound Fear of the Enemy, will never be made so much as to look him in the Face. Such as are in immediate Fear of losing their Estates, of Banishment, or of Slavery, live in perpetual Anguish, and lose all Appe­tite and Repose; whereas such as are actual­ly poor, Slaves and Exiles, oft-times live as merrily as Men in a better Condition: and so many People, who, impatient of the per­petual Alarms of Fear, have hang'd and drown'd themselves, give us sufficiently to understand, that it is more importunate and insupportable than Death it self. The Greeks acknowledge another kind of Fear exceeding any we have spoke of yet, a Passion that sur­prizes us without any visible Cause, by an im­pulse [Page 96] from Heaven; so that whole Armies and Nations have been struck with it. Such a one was that, which brought so wonder­ful a Desolation upon Carthage, where no­thing was to be heard but Voices, and Out­cries of Fear, where the Inhabitants were seen to sally out of their Houses as to an Alarm, and there to charge, wound, and kill one another, as if they had been Enemies come to surprize their City. All things were in strange Disorder and Fury; till with Pray­ers and Sacrifices they had appeas'd their Gods: and this is that they call a Punick Terror.

CHAP. XVIII. That Men are not to judge of our Happiness till after Death.

EVery one is acquainted with the Story of King Craesus to this purpose, who be­ing taken Prisoner by Cyrus, and by him con­demn'd [Page 97] to dye, as he was going to Executi­on, cry'd out, O Solon, Solon! which being presently reported to Cyrus, and he sending to inquire of him what it meant, Croesus gave him to understand, that he now found the Advertisement Solon had formerly given him true to his Cost, which was, That men, however Fortune may smile upon them, could never be said to be happy, till they had been seen to pass over the last day of their Lives, by reason of the uncertainty and mutability of Humane things, which upon very light and trivial occasions, are subject to be totally chang'd into a quite contrary condition. And therefore it was, that Agesilaus made answer to one that was saying, what a happy young man the King of Persia was, to come so young to so mighty a Kingdom; 'Tis true, (said he) but neither was Priam unhappy at his years. In a short time, of Kings of Macedon, Succes­sors to that mighty Alexander, were made Joyners and Scriveners at Rome, of a Tyrant of Sicily, a Pedant at Corinth, of a Conque­rour of one half of the World, and General of so many Armies, a miserable Suppliant to the rascally Officers of a King of Egypt. So much the prolongation of five or six Months of Life cost the Great and Noble Pompey; and no longer since than our Fathers dayes, Ludo­vico Forza, the tenth Duke of Millan, whom all Italy had so long truckled under, was seen to dye a wretched Prisoner at Loches, but [Page 98] not till he had liv'd ten Years in Captivity, which was the worst part of his Fortune. The fairest of all Queens,Mary, Qu. of Scots. Widdow to the great­est King in Europe, did she not come to dye by the hand of an Executioner? Unworthy and barbarous Cruelty! and a thousand more Examples there are of the same kind; for, it seems, that as Storms and Tempests have a Malice to the proud, and overtow'ring heights of our lofty Buildings, there are also Spirits above that are envious of the Grandeurs here below.

And it should seem also that Fortune sometimes lies in wait to surprize the last Hour of our Lives, to shew the Power she has in a Moment to overthrow what she was so many Years in building, making us cry out with Laberius, Macrob. l. 2. c. 2. Nimirum hac die una plus vixi, mihi quàm vivendum fuit, I have liv'd longer by this one day than I ought to have done. And in this Sense, this good Advice of Solon may reasonably be taken; but he being a Philosopher, with which sort of Men the [Page 99] Favours and Disgraces of Fortune stand for nothing, either to the making a Man happy or unhappy, and with whom Grandeurs and Powers, Accidents of Quality, are upon the Matter indifferent: I am apt to think that he had some further Aim, and that his meaning was, that the very Felicity of Life it self, which depends upon the Tranquillity and Contentment of a well-descended Spirit, and the Resolution and Assurance of a well-or­der'd Soul, ought never to be attributed to any Man, till he has first been seen to play the last, and doubtless the hardest act of his Part, because there may be Disguise and Dis­simulation in all the rest, where these fine Philosophical Discourses are only put on; and where Accidents do not touch us to the Quick, they give us leisure to maintain the same sober Gravity; but in this last Scene of Death, there is no more counterfeiting, we must speak plain, and must discover what there is of pure and clean in the bottom.

Wherefore, at this last all the other Actions of our Life ought to be tryed and sifted. 'Tis the Master-day, 'tis the day that is judge of all the rest, 'Tis the Day (says one of the An­cients) [Page 100] that ought to be judge of all my foregoing Years. To Death do I refer the Essay of the Fruit of all my Studies. We shall then see whether my Discourses came only from my Mouth, or from my Heart. I have seen ma­ny by their Death give a good or an ill Re­pute to their whole Life. Scipio, the Father-in-law of Pompey the great, in dying well, wip'd away the ill Opinion, that till then eve­ry one had conceiv'd of him. Epaminondas being ask'd which of the three he had in greatest esteem, Chabrias, Iphicrates, or him­self; You must first see us die (said he) before that Question can be resolv'd: and in truth, he would infinitely wrong that great Man, who would weigh him without the Honour and Grandeur of his End. God Almighty has or­der'd all things as it has best pleas'd him: But I have in my time seen three of the most execrable Persons that ever I knew in all manner of abominable living, and the most infamous to boot, who all dyed a very re­gular Death, and in all Circumstances com­pos'd even to Perfection. There are brave, and fortunate Deaths. I have seen Death cut the Thread of the Progress of a prodigious Advancement, and in the height and Flower of its encrease of a certain Person, with so glorious an end, that in my Opinion his Am­bitious and generous Designs had nothing in them so high and great as their Interrup­tion; and he arriv'd, without compleating [Page 101] his course, at the Place to which his Ambition pretended, with greater Glory, than he could himself either hope or desire, and anticipated by his Fall the Name and Power to which he aspir'd, by perfecting his Career. In the Judgment I make of another man's Life, I al­ways observe how he carried himself at his Death; and the principal Concern I have for my own, is, that I may dye handsomly, that is, patiently, and without noise.

CHAP. XIX. That to study Philosophy, is to learn to dye.

CIcero says, That to study Philosophy is no­thing but to prepare a Man's self to dye. The reason of which is, because Study and Contemplation do in some sort withdraw from us, and deprive us of our Souls, and employ it separately from the Body, which is a kind of Learning to dye, and a resemblance of Death; or else because all the Wisdom and reasoning in the World, does in the end con­clude in this Point, to teach us not to fear to dye. And to say the Truth, either our Reason does grosly abuse us, or it ought to have no other Aim but our Contentment on­ly, nor to endeavour any thing but in Sum to make us live well, and, as the Holy Scrip­ture says, at our Ease. All the Opinions of [Page 102] the World agree in this, That Pleasure is our end, though we make use of divers means to attain unto it, they would otherwise be re­jected at the first motion; for who would give Ear to him that should propose Afflicti­on and Misery for his end? The Controver­sies and Disputes of the Philosophical Sects upon this Point are merely verbal, Transcur­ramus solertissimas nugas, Seneca Epist. Let us skip over those learned and subtle Fooleries and Tri­fles; there is more in them of Opposition and Obstinacy than is consistent with so sa­cred a Profession: but what kind of Person soever Man takes upon him to personate, he over-mixes his own part with it; and let the Philosophers all say what they will, the main thing at which we all aim, even in Virtue it self, is Pleasure. It pleases me to rattle in their Ears this Word, which they so nauseate to hear; and if it signifie some supream Plea­sure and excessive Delight, it is more due to the Assistance of Vertue, than to any other Assistance whatever. This Delight, for being more gay, more sinewy, more robust, and more manly, is only to be more seriously vo­luptuous, and we ought to give it the Name of Pleasure, as that which is more benign, gentle, and natural, and not that of Vigour, from which we have deriv'd it: the other more mean and sensual part of Pleasure, if it could deserve this fair Name, it ought to be upon the Account of Concurrence, and not [Page 103] of Priviledge; I find it less exempt from Tra­verses and Inconveniences, than Vertue it self; and besides that, the Enjoyment is more momentary, fluid, and frail, it has its Watch­ings, Fasts, and Labours, even to Sweat and Blood; and moreover, has particular to it self so many several sorts of sharp and wound­ing Passions, and so stupid a Saciety attend­ing it, as are equal to the severest Penance. And we mistake to think that Difficulties should serve it for a Spur, and a seasoning to its Sweetness, as in Nature one Contrary is quickned by another, and to say when we come to Vertue, that like Consequences and Difficulties overwhelm and render it austere and inaccessible; whereas, much more aptly than in Voluptuousness, they enable, shar­pen, and heighten the perfect and divine Pleasure they procure us. He renders him­self unworthy of it who will counterpoise his Expence with the Fruit, and does neither understand the Blessing, nor how to use it. Those who Preach to us, that the quest of it is craggy, difficult, and painful, but the Fru­ition pleasant and grateful, what do they mean by that, but to tell us that it is always un­pleasing? The most perfect have been forc'd to content themselves to aspire unto it, and to approach it only without ever possessing it. But they are deceiv'd, and do not take notice, that of all the Pleasures we know, the very Pursuit is pleasant. The Attempt [Page 104] ever relishes of the quality of the thing to which it is directed, for it is a good part of, and consubstantial with the Effect. The Fe­licity and Beatitude that glitters in Vertue, shines throughout all her Apartments and Avenues, even to the first Entry, and utmost Pale and Limits. Now of all the Benefits that Vertue confers upon us, the Contempt of Death is one of the greatest, as the means that accommodates Humane Life with a soft and easie Tranquillity, and gives us a pure and pleasant Taste of Living, without which all other pleasure would be extinct; which is the Reason why all the Rules by which we are to live center and concur in this one Arti­cle. And altho they all in like manner with one consent endeavour to teach us also to despise Grief, Poverty, and the other Accidents to which humane Life, by its own Nature and Constitution, is subjected, it is not neverthe­less with the same Importunity, as well by reason the fore-named Accidents are not of so great necessity, the greater part of Mankind passing over their whole Lives without ever knowing what Poverty is, and some without Sorrow or Sickness; as Xenophilus the Musi­cian, who liv'd a hundred and six Years in a perfect and continual Health; as also be­cause, at the worst, Death can, whenever we please, cut short, and put an end to all these Inconveniences. But as to Death, it is in­evitable.

And consequently, if it frights us, 'tis a perpe­tual Torment, and for which there is no Consolation nor Redress. There is no way by which we can possibly avoid it, it com­mands all Points of the Compass; we may continually turn our Heads this way and that, and pry about as in a suspected Country, quae quasi saxum Tantalo semper impendet, Cicero de finib. l. 1. but it, like Tantalus his Stone, hangs over us. Our Courts of Justice often send back con­demn'd Criminals to be executed upon the Place where the Fact was committed; but carry them to all fine Houses by the way, and prepare for them the best Entertainment you can,

do you think they could relish it? and that the fatal end of their Journey being continu­ally before their Eyes, would not alter and deprave their Pallat from tasting these Re­galio's?

The end of our Race is Death, 'tis the ne­cessary Object of our aim, which if it fright us, how is it possible to advance a step with­out a Fit of an Ague? the Remedy the Vul­gar use, is not to think on't: but from what bruitish stupidity can they derive so gross a blindness? They must bridle the Ass by the Tayl.

[Page 107] 'tis no wonder if he be often trap'd in the Pit­fall. They use to fright People with the very mention of Death, and many cross themselves, as it were the name of the Devil; and be­cause the making a mans Will is in reference to dying, not a man will be perswaded to take a Pen in hand to that purpose, till the Physician has pass'd sentence upon him, and totally given him over, and then betwixt Grief and Terror, God knows in how fit a condition of Understanding he is to do it. The Romans, by reason that this poor sylla­ble Death was observ'd to be so harsh to the Ears of the People, and the sound so ominous; had found out a way to soften and spin it out by a Periphrasis, and instead of pronoun­cing bluntly, such a one is dead, to say, such a one has liv'd, or such a one has ceas'd to live; for, provided there was any mention of Life in the case, though past, it carried yet some sound of Consolation. And from them it is that we have borrow'd our expression of the late Monsieur such and such a one. Peradven­ture (as the Saying is) the term we have liv'd is worth our money.The Au­thor's birth I was born betwixt eleven and twelve a clock in the Forenoon the last of February 1533. according to our Computation, beginning the Year the first of January, and it is now but just fifteen dayes since I was compleat nine and thirty years old; I make account to live at least as many more. In the mean time, to trouble a mans self with [Page 108] the thought of a thing so far off, is a sensless Foolery. But what? Young and Old dye af­ter the very same manner, and no one departs out of Life otherwise, than if he had but just before enter'd into it; neither is any so old and decrepid, who has heard of Methusalem, that does not think he has yet twenty years of Constitution good at least. Fool that thou art, who has assur'd unto thee the term of Life? Thou depend'st upon Physicians Tales and Stories, but rather consult Experience, and the fragility of Humane Nature: for, ac­cording to the common course of things, 'tis long since that thou liv'dst by extraordinary Favour. Thou hast already out-liv'd the or­dinary term of Life, and that it is so, reckon up thy Acquaintance, how many more have died before they arriv'd at thy Age, than have attain'd unto it, and of those who have en­nobled their Lives by their Renown, take but an Account, and I dare lay a Wager, thou wilt find more who have dyed before than af­ter five and thirty years of age. It is full both of Reason and Piety too, to take Example by the Humanity of Jesus Christ himself, who ended his Life at three and thirty years. The greatest man, that ever was no more than a man, Alexander, died also at the same Age. How many several ways has Death to surprize us?

To omit Fevers and Pleurisies, who would ever have imagin'd that a Duke of Brittany should be press'd to death in a Crowd, as that Duke was at the entry of Pope Clement into Lyons? Have we not seen one of our Henry II of France, running against Montgome­ry. 2. Philip the eldest son of Lew­is the Gross, the 40th King of France. Kings kill'd at a Tilting, and did not one of his An­cestors dye by the justle of a Hog? Aeschy­lus, being threatned with the fall of a house, was to much purpose so circumspect to a­void that danger, when he was knock'd o'th' head by a Tortoise-shell falling out of an Eagles Talons in the Fields. Another was choak'd with a Grape-stone; an Emperour kill'd with the scratch of a Comb in comb­ing his Head. Aemilius Lepidus, with a stum­ble at his own threshold, and Anfidius with a justle against the door, as he entred the Council Chamber. And betwixt the very Thighs of Women, Cornelius Gallus the Prae­tor, Tigillinus Captain of the Watch at Rome, Ludovico Son of Guido de Gonzaga Marquis of Mantua, and (of worse example) Spensip­pus, a Platonick Philosopher, and one of our Popes. The poor Judge Bebius, whilst he re­priev'd a Criminal for eight dayes only, was himself condemn'd to death, and his own day of Life was expir'd. Whilst Caius Julius the Physician was anointing the Eyes of a Patient, Death clos'd his own; and, if I may [Page 110] bring in an Example of my own Blood; A Brother of mine, Captain St. Martin, a young man, of three and twenty years old, who had already given sufficient testimony of his Va­lour, playing a match at Tennis, receiv'd a blow of a Ball a little above his right Ear, which, though it was without any manner of sign of Wound, or depression of the Skull, and though he took no great notice of it, nor so much as sate down to repose him­self, he nevertheless died within five or six hours after, of an Apoplexy occasion'd by that blow. Which so frequent and common Ex­amples passing every day before our Eyes, how is it possible a man should disingage him­self from the thought of Death; or avoid fancying that it has us every moment by the Collar? What matter is it, you will say, which way it comes to pass, provided a man does not terrifie himself with the expectation? For my part, I am of this mind, that if a man could by any means avoid it, though by creeping under a Calves skin, I am one that should not be ashamed of the shift: all I aim at is, to pass my time pleasantly, and with­out any great Reproach, and the Recreati­ons that most contribute to it, I take hold of, as to the rest, as little glorious and exemplary as you would desire.

But 'tis folly to think of doing any thing that way. They go, they come, they gallop and dance, and not a word of Death. All this is very fine: but withall, when it comes ei­ther to themselves, their Wives, their Chil­dren, or Friends, surprizing them at unawares, and unprepar'd, then what torment, what out-cries, what madness and despair! Did you ever see any thing so subdu'd, so chang'd and so confounded? A man must therefore make more early tryal of it; and this bruitish neg­ligence, could it possibly lodge in the Brain of any man of Sense (which I think utterly impossible) sells us its merchandize too dear. Were it an Enemy that could be avoided, I would then advise to borrow Arms even of Cowardize it self to that effect: but seeing it is not, and that it will catch you as well flying, and playing the Poltron, as standing to't like a man of Honour.

And seeing that no temper of Arms is of proof to secure us,

let us learn bravely to stand our ground, and fight him. And to begin to deprive him of the greatest Advantage he has over us, let us take a way quite contrary to the common course. Let us disarm him of his Novelty and Strange­ness, let us converse, and be familiar with him, and have nothing so frequent in our thoughts as Death; Let us upon occasions re­present him in all his most dreadful shapes to our imagination; at the stumbling of a Horse, at the falling of a Tile, at the lest prick with a Pin, let us presently consider, and say to our selves, Well, and what if it had been Death it self? and thereupon let us encourage and fortifie our selves. Let us evermore amidst our jollity and Feasting, set the remembrance of our frail condition before our Eyes, never suffering our selves to be so far transported with our Delight, but that we have some in­tervals of reflecting upon, and considering how [Page 113] many several wayes this Jollity of ours tends to Death, and with how many dangers it threatens it. The Egyptians were wont to do after this manner, who in the height of their Feasting and Mirth, caus'd a dried Skeleton of a Man to be brought into the Room to serve for a Memento to their Guests.

Where Death waits for us is uncertain; let us every where look for him. The Premedi­tation of Death is the Premeditation of Li­berty; who has learnt to dye has forgot to serve. There is nothing of Evil in Life, for him who rightly comprehends, that Death is no Evil: to know how to dye delivers us from all Subjection and Constraint. Paulus Aemylius answer'd him whom the miserable King of Macedon, his Prisoner, sent to entreat him that he would not lead him in his Tri­umph, Let him make that Request to himself. In truth, in all things, if Nature do not help a little, it is very hard for Art and Industry to perform any thing to purpose. I am in my own Nature not melancholick, but thoughtful; and there is nothing I have more [Page 114] continually entertain'd my self withall than the Imaginations of Death, even in the gay­est and most wanton time of my Age.

In the Company of Ladies, and in the height of Mirth, some have perhaps thought me possess'd with some Jealousie, or medita­ting upon the Uncertainty of some imagin'd Hope, whilst I was entertaining my self with the Remembrance of some one surpriz'd a few days before with a burning Fever of which he died, returning from an Entertainment like this, with his Head full of idle Fancies of Love and Jollity; as mine was then, and that for ought I knew the same Destiny was attend­ing me.

Yet did not this Thought wrinkle my Fore­head any more than any other. It is impossi­ble but we must feel a sting in such Imagina­tions as these at first; but with often revol­ving them in a Man's Mind, and having them frequent in our Thoughts, they at last be­come so familiar as to be no trouble at all: otherwise, I for my Part should be in a per­petual [Page 115] Fright and Frenzy; for never Man was so distrustful of his Life, never Man so indifferent for its Duration. Neither Health, which I have hitherto ever enjoyed very strong and vigorous, and very seldom inter­rupted, does prolong, nor Sickness contract my Hopes. Methinks I scape every minute, and it eternally runs in my Mind, that what may be done to morrow may be done to day. Hazards and Dangers do, in truth, little or nothing hasten our end; and if we consider how many more remain and hang over our Heads, besides the Accident that im­mediately threatens us, we shall find that the Sound and the Sick, those that are abroad at Sea, and those that sit by the Fire, those who are engag'd in Battel, and those who sit idle at home, are the one as near it as the other. Nemo altero fragilior est: Senec. Ep. 91. nemo in crastinum sui certior, No Man is more frail than another, no more certain of the morrow. For any thing I have to do before I dye, the longest leisure would appear too short, were it but an Hours Business I had to do. A Friend of mine the other day turning over my Ta­ble-Book, found in it a Memorandum of something I would have done after my Decease, whereupon I told him, as it was really true, that though I was no more than a League's distance only from my own House, and mer­ry and well, yet when that thing came into my Head, I made haste to write it down [Page 116] there, because I was not certain to live till I came home. As a man that am eternally brood­ing over my own thoughts, and who con­fine them to my own particular Concerns, I am upon the matter at all hours as well pre­par'd as I am ever like to be, and Death, whenever he shall come, can bring nothing along with him I did not expect long before. We should alwayes (as near as we can) be booted and spurr'd, and ready to go, and above all things to take care at that time to have no business with any one but a man's self:

For we shall there find work enough to do, without any need of Addition; One com­plains, more than of Death, that he is thereby prevented of a glorious Victory; another, that he must dye before he has married his Daughter, or settled, and provided for his Chil­dren; a third seems only troubled that he must lose the society of his beloved Wife; a fourth, the conversation of his Son, as the princi­pal Concerns of his Being. For my part, I am, thanks be to God, at this instant in such a condition, that I am ready to dis­lodge, whenever it shall please him, with­out [Page 117] any manner of regret. I disengage my self throughout from all Worldly Rela­tions, my leave is soon taken of all but my self. Never did any one prepare to bid adieu to the World more absolutely and purely, and to shake hands with all manner of Inter­est in it, than I expect to do. The deadest Deaths are the best.

And the Builder,

A man must design nothing that will require so much time to the finishing, or at least with no such passionate desire to see it brought to Perfection. We are born to action.

I would alwayes have a man to be doing, and, as much as in him lies, to extend, and spin out the Offices of Life; and then let [Page 118] Death take me planting Cabages, but with­out any careful thought of him, and much less of my Garden's not being finished. I saw one dye, who at his last gasp seem'd to be con­cern'd at nothing so much, as that Destiny was about to cut the thread of a Chronicle History he was then compiling, when he was gone no farther than the fifteenth or sixteenth of our Kings.

We are to discharge our selves from these vul­gar and hurtful Humours and Concerns. To this purpose it was, that men first appointed the places of Sepulture, and Dormitories of the dead, near adjoyning to the Churches, and in the most frequent places of the City, to accustom (sayes Licurgus) the common People, Women, and Children, that they should not be startled at the sight of a dead Corse; and to the end, that the continual Objects of Bones, Graves, Monuments, and Funeral Obsequies should put us in mind of our frail condition.

And as the Egyptians after their Feasts were wont to present the Company with a great Image of Death, by one that cry'd out to them, Drink and be merry, for such shalt thou be when thou art dead; so it is my Custom to have Death not only in my Imagination, but continually in my Mouth; neither is there any thing of which I am so inquisitive, and de­light to inform my self, as the manner of mens Deaths, their Words, Looks, and Gestures; nor any places in History I am so intent upon; and it is manifest enough, by my crowding in Ex­amples of this kind, that I have a particular fancy for that Subject. If I were a Writer of Books, I would compile a Register with a Comment of the various Deaths of men, and it could not but be useful, for who should teach men to dye, would at the same time teach them to live. Dicearchus made one, to which he gave that Title; but it was design'd for another, and less profitable end. Perad­venture some one may object, and say, that the pain and terror of dying indeed does so infinitely exceed all manner of imagination, [Page 120] that the best Fencer will be quite out of his Play when it comes to the Push: but let them say what they will, to premeditate is doubt­less a very great Advantage; and besides, is it nothing to come so far, at least, without any visible Disturbance or Alteration? But moreover, Nature her self does assist and en­courage us. If the Death be sudden and vio­lent, we have not leisure to fear; if other­wise, I find, that as I engage further in my Disease, I naturally enter into a certain loath­ing, and disdain of Life. I find I have much more ado to digest this Resolution of dying when I am well in Health than when sick lan­guishing of a Fever; and by how much I have less to do with the Commodities of Life, by reason I even begin to lose the use and Plea­sure of them, by so much I look upon Death with less Terror and Amazement; which makes me hope, that the further I remove from the first, and the nearer I approach to the latter, I shall sooner strike a Bargain, and with less Unwillingness exchange the one for the other. And, as I have experimented in other Occurrences, that, as Caesar says, things often appear greater to us at distance than near at hand, I have found, that being well, I have had Diseases in much greater Horror than when really afflicted with them. The Vi­gour wherein I now am, and the Jollity and Delight wherein I now live, make the con­trary Estate appear in so great a disproportion [Page 121] to my present condition, that by imagination I magnifie, and make those inconveniences twice greater than they are, and apprehend them to be much more troublesome, than I find them real­ly to be, when they lie the most heavy upon me, and I hope to find Death the same. Let us but observe in the ordinary changes and Declinati­ons our Constitutions daily suffer, how Nature deprives us of all sight and sense of our bodi­ly decay. What remains to an old man of the vigour of his Youth and better days?

Caesar, to an old weather-beaten Souldier of his Guards, who came to ask him leave that he might kill himself, taking notice of his wither'd Bo­dy, and decrepid motion, pleasantly answer'd, Thou fanciest then that thou art yet alive. Should a man fall into the Aches and impoten­cies of Age, from a spritely and vigorous Youth on the sudden, I do not think Humani­ty capable of enduring such a change: but Na­ture, leading us by the hand, an easie, and as it were, an insensible pace, step by step conducts us to that miserable condition, and by that means makes it familiar to us, so that we perceive not, nor are sensible of the stroak then, when our Youth dies in us, though it be really a harder Death, than the final Dissolution of a languishing Body, which [Page 122] is only the Death of old Age; forasmuch as the Fall is not so great from an uneasie Being to none at all, as it is from a spritely and flo­rid Being to one that is unweildy and pain­ful. The Body, when bow'd beyond its natural spring of Strength, has less Force ei­ther to rise with, or support a Burthen; and it is with the Soul the same, and therefore it is, that we are to raise her up firm and erect against the Power of this Adversary: for as it is impossible she should ever be at rest, or at Peace within her self, whilst she stands in fear of it; so if she once can assure her self, she may boast (which is a thing as it were above Humane Condition) that it is impossi­ble that Disquiet, Anxiety, or Fear, or any other Disturbance, should inhabit, or have any Place in her.

[Page 123] She is then become Sovereign of all her Lusts and Passions, Mistress of Necessity, Shame, Poverty, and all the other Injuries of For­tune. Let us therefore, as many of us as can, get this Advantage, which is the true and sovereign Liberty here on Earth, and that fortifies us wherewithall to defie Violence and Injustice, and to contemn Prisons and Chains.

Our very Religion it self has no surer hu­mane Foundation than the Contempt of Death.The Con­tempt of Death a certain Foundati­on of Reli­gion. Not only the Argument of Reason invites us to it; for why should we fear to lose a thing, which being lost, can never be miss'd or lamented? But also seeing we are threatned by so many sorts of Death, is it not infinitely worse eternally to fear them all, than once to undergo one of them? And [Page 124] what matter is it when it shall happen, since it is once inevitable? To him that told So­crates, the thirty Tyrants have sentenc'd thee to Death; and Nature them, said he. What a ri­diculous thing it is to trouble and afflict our selves, about taking the only Step that is to deliver us from all Misery and Trouble? As our Birth brought us the Birth of all things, so in our Death is the Death of all things in­cluded. And therefore to lament and take on, that we shall not be alive a hundred Years hence, is the same Folly as to be sorry we were not alive a hundred Years ago. Death is the beginning of another Life. So did we weep, and so much it cost us to enter into this, and so did we put off our former Veil in entring into it. Nothing can be grievous that is but once, and is it reasonable so long to fear a thing that will so soon be dispatch'd? Long Life, and short, are by Death made all one; for there is no long, nor short, to things that are no more. Aristotle tells us, that there are certain little Beasts upon the Banks of the River Hypanis, that never live above a day: they which dye at eight of the Clock in the Morning, dye in their Youth, and those that dye at five in the Evening, in their extreamest Age: which of us would not laugh to see this Moment of Continuance put into the consideration of Weal or Woe? The most, and the least of ours in comparison of Eternity, or yet to the Duration of Moun­tains, [Page 125] Rivers, Stars, Trees, and even of some Animals, is no less ridiculous. But Nature compells us to it; Go out of this World, says she, as you enter'd into it; the same Pass you made from Death to Life, with­out Passion or Fear, the same, after the same manner, repeat from Life to Death. Your Death is a part of the Order of the Universe, 'tis a part of the Life of the World.

'Tis the Condition of your Creation; Death is a part of you, and whilst you en­deavour to evade it, you avoid your selves. This very Being of yours that you now en­joy is equally divided betwixt Life and Death. The day of your Birth is one days advance towards the Grave.

All the whole time you live you purloin from Life, and live at the expence of Life it self; the perpetual work of our whole Life is but to lay the foundation of Death; you are in Death whilst you live, because you still are after Death, when you are no more alive. Or if you had rather have it so, you are dead af­ter Life, but dying all the while you live; and Death handles the dying much more rude­ly than the dead. If you have made your pro­fit of Life, you have had enough of it, go your way satisfied.

If you have not known how to make the best use of it, and if it was unprofitable to you, what need you care to lose it, to what end would you desire longer to keep it?

[Page 127] Life in it self is neither good nor evil, it is the Scene of good or evil, as you make it; and, if you have liv'd a day, you have seen all, one day is equal, and like to all other dayes; there is no other Light, no other other Shade, this very Sun, this Moon, these very Stars, this very Order and Revolution of things, is the same your Ancestors enjoy'd, and that shall also entertain your Posterity.

And come the worst that can come, the distri­bution and variety of all the Acts of my Co­medy, is perform'd in a Year. If you have observ'd the Revolution of the four Seasons, they comprehend, the Infancy, Youth, Viri­lity, and old Age of the World. The Year has play'd his part, and knows no other way, has no new Farce, but must begin and re­peat the same again; it will always be the same thing.

[Page 128]Time is not resolv'd to create you any new Recreations.

Give place to others, as others have given place to you. Equality is the Soul of Equity. Who can complain of being comprehended in the same Destiny wherein all things are in­volv'd? Besides, live as long as you can, you shall by that nothing shorten the space you are to lye dead in the Grave; 'tis all to no purpose; you shall be every whit as long in the condition you so much fear, as if you had died at Nurse.

And yet I will place you in such a condition as you shall have no reason to be displeased;

[Page 129] Nor shall you so much as wish for the Life you are so concern'd about.

Death were less to be fear'd than nothing, if there could be any thing less than nothing.

Neither can it any way concern you, whe­ther you are living or dead: living, by rea­son that you are still in being, dead, because you are no more. Moreover, no one dies be­fore his Hour: and the Time you leave be­hind was no more yours, than that was laps'd, and gone before you came into the World; nor does it any more concern you.

Wherever your Life ends it is all there; neither does the Utility of living consist in [Page 130] the length of days, but in the well husband­ing and improving of Time, and such an one may have been who has longer continued in the World than the ordinary Age of Man; that has yet liv'd but a little while. Make use of Time while it is present with you. It depends upon your Will, and not upon the number of Days, to have a sufficient length of Life. Is it possible you can imagine never to arrive at the Place towards which you are continually going? and yet there is no Jour­ney but hath its end. But if Company will make it more pleasant, or more easie to you, does not all the World go the self same way?

Does not all the World dance the same Brawl that you do? Is there any thing that does not grow old as well as you? A thousand Men, a thousand Animals, and a thousand other Creatures, dye at the same Moment that you expire.

To what end should you endeavour to a­void, unless there were a possibility to evade it? you have seen Examples enow of those who have received so great a benefit by Dy­ing, as thereby to be manifestly deliver'd from infallible Miseries; but have you Talkt with any of those who have feared a Disadvan­tage by it? It must therefore needs be very foolish to condemn a thing you neither ex­perimented in your own Person, nor by that of any other. Why (says Nature) dost thou complain of me and Destiny? Do we do thee any wrong? Is it for thee to govern us, or for us to dispose of thee? Though perad­venture thy Age may not be accomplish'd, yet thy Life is. A Man of low Stature is as much a man as a Gyant; neither Men, nor their Lives, are measur'd by the Ell. Chiron refus'd to be immortal, when he was acquaint­ed with the Conditions under which he was to enjoy it, by the God of time it self, and its Duration, his Father Saturn. Do but se­riously consider how much more insupport­able an immortal and painful Life would be [Page 132] to man than what I have already design'd him. If you had not Death to ease you of your Pains and Cares, you would eternally curse me for having depriv'd you of the Be­nefit of Dying. I have, 'tis true, mix'd a lit­tle Bitterness with it, to the end, that seeing of what Conveniency and Use it is, you might not too greedily and indiscreetly seek and embrace it: and that you might be so esta­blish'd in this Moderation, as neither to nau­seate Life, nor have an Antipathy for dying, which I have decreed you shall once do, I have temper'd the one and the other betwixt Pleasure and Pain: and was I that first taught Thales, the most eminent of all your Sages, that to Live and to Dye were indifferent; which made him very wisely answer who ask'd him, Why then he did not dye? because (says he) it is indifferent. The Elements of Water, Earth, Fire, and Air, and the other Parts of this Creation of thine, are no more the Instruments of thy Life than they are of thy Death. Why dost thou fear thy last day, it contributes no more to thy dissolution than every one of the rest? The last Step is not the cause of Cassitude, it does but confess it. Every Day travels towards Death, the last only arrives at it. These are the good Lessons our Mother Nature teaches. I have often consider'd with my self whence it should proceed, that in War the Image of Death, whether we look upon it as to our own particular danger, or [Page 133] that of another, should without Comparison appear less dreadful than at home in our own Houses, (for if it were not so, it would be an Army of whining Milk-sops) and that be­ing still in all Places the same, there should be notwithstanding much more Assurance in Peasants, and the meaner sort of People, than others of better Quality and Education: and do verily believe, that it is those terrible Ce­remonies and Preparations wherewith we set it out, that more terrifie us than the thing it self; a new quite contrary way of living, the Cries of Mothers, Wives and Children, the Visits of astonish'd and afflicted Friends, the Attendance of pale and blubber'd Ser­vants, a dark Room set round with burning Tapers, our Beds environed with Physicians and Divines; in sum, nothing but Ghostliness and Horror round about us, render it so for­midable, that a Man almost fancies himself dead and buried already. Children are afraid even of those they love best, and are best ac­quainted with, when disguised in a Vizor, and so are we; The Vizor must be removed as well from Things as Persons; which being taken away, we shall find nothing underneath but the very same Death that a mean Servant, or a poor Chamber-maid, died a day or two ago, without any manner of Apprehension or Concern. Happy therefore is the Death that deprives us of the leisure to prepare things requisite for this unnecessary Pomp, a Pomp [Page 134] that only renders that more terrible which ought not to be fear'd, and that no Man up­on Earth can possibly avoid.

CHAP. XX. Of the Force of Imagination.

Axiom. Scholast. FOrtis imaginatio generat casum, A strong Imagination begets Accident, say the School-men. I am one of those who are most sensible of the Power of Imagination: Every one is justled, but some are overthrown by it. It has a very great Impression upon me; and I make it my Business to avoid, wanting force to resist it. I could live by the sole help of healthful and jolly Company. The very sight of anothers Pain does materially work upon me, and I naturally usurp the Sence of a third Person to share with him in his Torment. A perpetual Cough in another tickles my Lungs and Throat. I more unwillingly visit the sick I love, and am by Duty interested to look after, than those I care not for, and from whom I have no expectation. I take possessi­on of the Disease I am concern'd at, and lay it too much to heart, and do not at all won­der that Fancy should distribute Fevers, and sometimes kill such as allow too much Scope, and are too willing to entertain it. Simon Thomas was a great Physician of his time: I [Page 135] remember, that hapning one day at Tholouze to meet him at a rich old Fellows House, who was troubled with naughty Lungs, and dis­coursing with his Patient about the method of his Cure; he told him, that one thing which would be very conducing to it, was, to give me such Occasion to be pleased with his Company, that I might come often to see him, by which means, and by fixing his Eyes up­on the Freshness of my Complexion, and his Imagination upon the Sprightliness and Vi­gour that glowed in my Youth, and posses­sing all his Senses with the flourishing Age wherein I then was, his Habit of Body might peradventure be amended, but he forgot to say that mine at the same time might be made worse. Gallus Vibius so long cudgell'd his Brains to find out the Essence and Motions of Folly, till by the Inquisition, in the end he went directly out of his Wits, and to such a Degree, that he could never after recover his Judgment; and he might brag that he was become a Fool by too much Wisdom. Some there are who thorough Fear prevent the Hangman; like him whose Eyes being un­bound to have his Pardon read to him, was found stark dead upon the Scaffold,Imaginati­on occasi­ons Disea­ses and Death. by the Stroak of Imagination. We start, tremble, turn pale, and blush, as we are variously mov'd by Imagination; and being a-bed, feel our Bodies agitated with its Power to that degree, as even sometimes to Expiration. And [Page 136] boyling Youth when fast asleep, grows so warm with Fancy, as in a Dream to satisfie amorous Desires.

Although it be no new thing to see Horns grown in a Night on the Fore-head of one that had none when he went to Bed; not­withstanding, what befell Cyppus, a noble Roman, is very memorable; who having one day been a very delighted Spectator of a Bull-baiting, and having all the night dreamt that he had Horns on his Head, did, by the Force of Imagination, really cause them to grow there. Passion made the Son of Croesus to speak, who was born dumb, by that means supplying him with so necessary a Faculty, which Nature had deny'd him. And Antiochus fell into a Fever, enflam'd with the Beauty of Stratonissa too deeply imprint­ed in his Soul. Pliny pretends to have seen Lucius Crossitius, who from a Woman was turn'd into a Man upon her very Wedding­day. Pontanus, and others, report the like Metamorphosis that in these latter days have [Page 137] hapned in Italy, and through the vehement Desire of him and his Mother.

My self passing by Vitry le Francois, a Town in Champagne, saw a Man the Bi­shop of Soissons had in Confirmation, call'd German, whom all the Inhabitanrs of the Place had known to be a Girl till two and twenty Years of Age, call'd Mary. He was at the time of my being there very full of Beard, Old, and not Married, who told us, that by straining himself in a Leap, his male Instruments came out; and the Maids of that Place have to this day a Song, where­in they advise one another not to take too great Strides, for fear of being turn'd into Men, as Mary German was. It is no wonder if this sort of Accident frequently happen; for if Imagination have any Power in such things, it is so continually and vigorously bent upon this Subject, that to the end it may not so often relapse into the same Thought, and Violence of Desire, it were better once for all to give these young Wenches the Things they long for. [Page 138] Some stick not to attribute the Scars of King Dagobert, and St. Francis, to the Force of Imagination; and it is said, that by it Bo­dies will sometimes be removed from their Places; and Celsus tells us of a Priest whose Soul would be ravish'd into such an Extasie, that the Body would, for a long time, remain without Sense or Respiration. St. Augustine makes mention of another, who, upon the hearing of any lamentable or doleful Cries, would presently fall into a Swoon, and be so far out of himself, that it was in vain to call, hollow in his Ears, pinch, or burn him, till he voluntarily came to himself; and then he would say, that he had heard Voices as it were a-far off, and did feel when they pinch'd and burn'd him: and to prove that this was no obstinate Dissimulation in defiance of his Sense of Feeling, it was manifest, that all the while he had neither Pulse nor Breathing, 'Tis very probable, that Visions, Enchant­ments, and all extraordinary Effects of that Nature, derive their Credit principally from the Power of Imagination, working and ma­king its chiefest Impression upon vulgar and more easie Souls, whose Belief is so strange­ly impos'd upon as to think they see what they do not: I am not satisfied, and make a very great Question, Whether those pleasant Ligatures with which this Age of ours is so fetter'd, that there is almost no other Talk, are not mere voluntary Impressions of Appre­hension [Page 139] and fear; for I know by experience, in the Case of a particular Friend of mine, one for whom I can be as Responsible as for my self, and a Man that cannot possibly fall under any manner of Suspition of insufficien­cy, and as little of being enchanted, who having heard a Companion of his make a Re­lation of an unusual Frigidity that surpriz'd him at a very unseasonable time; being after­wards himself engag'd upon the same Ac­count, the Horror of the former Story on a sudden so strangely possess'd his Imagination, that he ran the same Fortune the other had done; and from that time forward (the scur­vy Remembrance of his Disaster running in his Mind, and tyrannizing over him) was ex­treamly subject to Relapse into the same Mis­fortune. He found some Remedy, however, for this Inconvenience, by himself franckly confessing, and declaring before-hand to the Party with whom he was to have to do, the Subjection he lay under, and the Infirmity he was subject to, by which means the Conten­tion of his Soul was in some sort appeas'd; and knowing that now some such Misbeha­viour was expected from him, the Restraint upon those Faculties grew less, and he less suffer'd by it, and afterwards, at such times as he could be in no such Apprehension, as not being about any such Act (his Thoughts be­ing then disengag'd and free, and his Body being in its true and natural Estate) by cau­sing [Page 140] those Parts to be handled and communi­cated to the Knowledge of others, he was at last totally freed from that vexatious Infirmity. After a Man has once done a Woman right, he is never after in danger of misbehaving himself with that Person, unless upon the ac­count of a manifest and excusable Weakness. Neither is this Disaster to be fear'd, but in Adventures where the Soul is over-extended with Desire or Respect, and especially where we meet with an unexpected Opportunity that requires a sudden and quick Dispatch; and in those Cases, there is no possible means for a Man always to defend himself from such a Surprize as shall put him damnably out of Countenance. And yet I have known some, who have secur'd themselves from this Mischance by coming half sated else­where, purposely to abate the ardour of his Fury, and others, who by being grown old, find themselves less impotent by being less able; and particularly one, who found an Advantage by being assur'd by a Friend of his, that he had a Counter-charm against cer­tain Enchantments that would defend him from this Disgrace. The Story it self is not much amiss, and therefore you shall have it. A Count of a very great Family, and with whom I had the Honour to be very familiar­ly intimate, being Married to a very fair Lady, who had formerly been pretended to, and importunately courted by one who [Page 141] was invited to, and present at the Wedding, all his Friends were in very great Fear, but especially an old Lady his Kinswoman, who had the ordering of the Solemnity, and in whose House it was kept, suspecting his Ri­val would, in Revenge, offer foul Play, and procure some of these kind of Sorceries to put a Trick upon him; which Fear she also communicated to me, who, to comfort her, bad her not trouble her self, but relye upon my Care to prevent or frustrate any such De­signs. Now I had, by chance, about me a certain flat Plate of Gold whereon were gra­ven some Coelestial Figures, good to prevent Frenzy occasion'd by the Heat of the Sun, or for any Pains of the Head, being applied to the Suture; where, that it might the better remain firm, it was sowed to a Ribban to be tyed under the Chin. A Foppery Cousin-German to this of which I am speaking, and by Jaques Pelletier, who liv'd in my House, presented to me for a singular Rarity, and a thing of Sovereign Vertue. I had a fancy to make some use of this Knack, and therefore privately told the Count, that he might pos­sibly run the same Fortune other Bridegrooms had sometimes done; especially some Per­sons being in the House, who no doubt would be glad to do him such a Courtesie, but let him boldly go to Bed, for I would do him the Office of a Friend, and if need were, would not spare a Mira­cle [Page 142] that it was in my Power to do, provided he would engage to me, upon his Honour, to keep it to himself, and only when they came to bring him his Cawdle,A Custom in France to bring the Bride­groom a Cawdle in the middle of the night, on his Wed­ding night. if Matters had not gone well with him, to give me such a Sign, and leave the rest to me. Now he had his Ears so batter'd, and his Mind so prepos­sess'd with the eternal Tattle of this Business, that when it came to't he did really find him­self tied with the Trouble of his Imagination, and accordingly at the time appointed gave me the Sign. Whereupon, I whisper'd him in the Ear, That he should rise under Pretence of putting us out of the Room, and after a jesting manner pull my Night-gown from my Shoulders, throw it over his own, and there keep it till he had perform'd what I had ap­pointed him to do, which was, that when we were all gone out of the Chamber he should withdraw to make Water, should three times repeat such and such Words, and as often do such and such Actions: that at every of the three times he should tye the Ribban I put into his Hand about his Middle, and be sure to place the Medal was fastened to it (the Figures in such a Posture) exactly upon his Reins, which being done, and ha­ving the last of the three times so well girt and fast tyed the Ribban that it could neither untye nor slip from its Place, let him confi­dently return to his Business, and withall not to forget to spread my Gown upon the Bed, [Page 143] so that it might be sure to cover them both. These ridiculous Circumstances are the main of the Effect, our Fancy being so far seduc'd, as to believe, that so strange and uncouth Formalities must of necessity proceed from some abstruse Science. Their Inanity gives them Reverence and Weight. However, cer­tain it is, that my Figures approv'd them­selves more Venerian than Solar, and the fair Bride had no reason to complain. Now I cannot forbear to tell you, it was a sudden Whimsey, mix'd with a little Curiosity, that made me do a thing so contrary to my Na­ture; for I am an Enemy to all subtle, and counterfeit Actions, and abominate all man­ner of Fraud, though it be but for Sport; for though the Action may not be wicked in it self, yet 'tis done after a wicked manner. Amasis, King of Egypt, married Laodicea a marvellous beautiful Greek Virgin, who, tho famous for his Abilities elsewhere, found him­self quite another Man with his Wife, and could by no means enjoy her; at which he was so enrag'd, that he threatned to kill her, suspecting her to be a Witch. As 'tis usual in things that consist in Fancy; she put him upon Devotion, who having accordingly made his Vows to Venus, he found himself divinely restor'd the very first Night after his Oblations and Sacrifices. Now in plain truth, Women are to blame to entertain us with that disdainful, coy, and angry Coun­tenance [Page 144] they commonly do, which extin­guishes our Vigour, as it kindles our Desire; which made the Daughter in Law of Pytha­goras to say, That the Woman who goes to Bed to a Man, must put off her Modesty with her Petticoat, and put it on again with the same. The Soul of the Assailant being di­sturb'd with many several Alarms, is easily astonish'd, and soon loses the Power of Per­formance; and whoever the Imagination has once put this Trick upon, and confounded with the Shame of it, (and she never does it but at the first Acquaintance, by reason Men are then more ardent and eager, and also at this first Account a Man gives of himself, he is much more timerous of miscarrying) ha­ving made an ill Beginning, he enters into such Indignation and Despite at the Acci­dent, as will in following Opportunities be apt to remain, and continue him in the same Condition. As to what concerns Married People, having the Year before them (as we say) they ought never to compell, or so much as to offer at the Feat, if they do not find themselves very ready: and it is better indecently to fail of handselling the Nuptial Sheets, and of paying the Ceremony due to the Wedding-night, when a Man perceives himself full of Agitation and Trembling, ex­pecting another opportunity at a better and more private Leisure, when his Fancy shall be better compos'd, than to make himself per­petually [Page 145] miserable, for having misbehav'd him­self, and been baffled at the first assault. Till possession be taken, a man that knows himself subject to this Infirmity, should leisurely and by degrees make several little tryals and light offers, without obstinately attempting at once to force an absolute conquest over his own mutinous and indispos'd Faculties; such as know their members to be naturally obedient to their desires, need to take no other care but only to counterplot their Fancy. The indocile and rude liberty of this scurvy Member, is suf­ficiently remarkable, by its importunate, un­ruly, and unseasonable tumidity and impati­ence, at such times as we have nothing for it to do, and by its more unseasonable stupidity and disobedience, when we stand most in need of his vigour, so imperiously contesting the authority of the Will, and with so much obsti­nacy denying all sollicitation both of hand and fancy. And yet though his Rebellion is so universally complain'd of, and that proofs are not wanting to condemn him, if he had never­theless feed me to plead his Cause, I should peradventure bring the rest of his fellow-mem­bers into suspition of complotting this mis­chief against him, out of pure envy at the im­portance, and ravishing pleasure particular to his Employment, so as to have by Confedera­cy arm'd the whole World against him, by malevolently charging him alone with their common offence. For let any one consider, [Page 146] whether there is any one Part of our Bodies that does not often refuse to perform its Of­fice at the Precept of the Will, and that does not often exercise its Function in defiance of her Command. They have every one of them proper Passions of their own, that rouze and awake, stupifie and benum them, without our Leave or Consent. How often do the involuntary motions of the Countenance dis­cover our inward Thoughts, and betray our most private Secrets to the Knowledge of the Standers by? The same Cause that animates this Member, does also, without our Know­ledge, animate the Lungs, Pulse, and Heart, the sight of a pleasing Object imperceptibly diffusing a Flame thorough all our Parts with a febrifick motion. Is there nothing but these Veins and Muscles that swell, and flag without the Consent, not only of the Will, but even of our Knowledge also? We do not command our Hairs to stand an end, nor our Skin to shiver either with Fear or De­sire. The Hands often convey themselves to Parts to which we do not direct them. The Tongue will be interdict, and the Voice sometimes suffocated when we know not how to help it. When we have nothing to eat, and would willingly forbid it, the Ap­petite of Eating and Drinking does not for all that forbear to stir up the Parts that are subjected to it, no more nor less than the other Appetite we were speaking of, and in [Page 147] like manner does as unseasonably leave us. The Vessels that serve to discharge the Belly have their proper Dilatations and Compressi­ons, without, and beyond our Intelligence, as well as those which are destin'd to purge the Reins. And that which to justifie the Prerogative of the Will, St. Augustine urges, of having seen a Man who could command his Backside to discharge as often together as he pleas'd, and that Vives does yet fortifie with another Example in his time of one that could Fart in Tune, does nothing suppose any more pure Obedience of that Part; for is any thing commonly more tumultuary or indiscreet? To which let me add, that I my self knew one so rude and ungovern'd, as for forty Years together made his Master-Vent with one continued and unintermitted Hur­ricane, and 'tis like will do till he expire that way, and vanish in his own Smoak. And I could heartily wish, that I only knew by Reading, how oft a Man's Belly, by the De­nial of one single Puff, brings him to the ve­ry door of an exceeding painful Death; and that the Emperour, who gave Liberty to let fly in all Places, had at the same time given us Power to do it. But for our Will, in whose Behalf we prefer this Accusation, with how much greater Similitude of Truth may we reproach even her her self with Mutiny and Sedition for her Irregularity and Disobe­dience? Does she always will what we would [Page 148] have her to do? Does she not often will what we forbid her to will, and that to our manifest Prejudice? Does she suffer her self any more than any of the other, to be go­vern'd and directed by the Results of our Reason? To conclude, I should move in the Behalf of the Gentleman,Cazzo. my Clyent, it might be consider'd, that in this Fact, his Cause be­ing inseparably conjoyn'd with an Accessary, yet he is only call'd in Question, and that by Arguments and Accusations, that cannot be charg'd, nor reflect upon the other: whose Business indeed is sometimes inoportunely to invite, but never to refuse, and to allure af­ter a tacite and clandestine manner; and therefore is the Malice and Injustice of his Accusers most manifestly apparent. But be it how it will, protesting against the Pro­ceedings of the Advocates and Judges, Na­ture will, in the mean time, proceed after her own way: who had done but well, if she had endow'd this Member with some particu­lar Priviledge, The Author of the sole immortal Work of Mortals, A divine Work according to Socrates, and of Love, Desire of Immor­tality, and himself an immortal Daemon. Some one perhaps by such an Effect of Imagination may have had the good luck to leave Videlicet the Pox. that behind him here in France, which his Com­panion who has come after, and behav'd him­self better, has carried back with him into Spain. And that you may see why Men in [Page 149] such cases require a mind prepar'd for the thing they are to do. Why do the Physicians tam­per with, and prepossess before-hand their Patients credulity with many false promises of Cure, if not to the end, that the effect of imagination may supply the imposture and de­fect of their Aposeme? They know very well, that a great Master of their Trade has given it under his hand, that he has known some with whom the very sight of a potion would work: which Examples of Fancy and Conceit come now into my head, by the remembrance of a story was told me by a domestick Apothecary of my Father's, a blunt Swisse (a Nation not much addicted to vanity and lying) of a Mer­chant he had long known at Thoulouse, who be­ing a valetudinary, & much afflicted with Fits of the Stone, had often occasion to take Cly­sters, of which he caus'd several sorts to be pre­scrib'd him by the Physicians, according to the accidents of his Disease: one of which being one time brought him, and none of the usual forms, as feeling if it were not too hot, and the like, being omitted, he was laid down on his Belly, the Syringe put up, and all Ceremonies perform'd, injection excepted; after which, the Apothecary being gone, & the Patient accom­modated as if he had really receiv'd a Clyster, he found the same operation and effect that those do who have taken one indeed; and if at any time the Physician did not find the Operation sufficient, he would usually give [Page 150] him two or three more after the same manner. And the Fellow moreover swore to me, that to save charges (for he pay'd as if he had really taken them) this sick mans Wife, having some­times made tryal of warm Water only, the effect discover'd the Cheat, and finding these would do no good, was fain to return to the old way. A Woman fancying she had swallow'd a pin in a piece of Bread, cry'd out of an intol­lerable pain in her Throat, where she thought she felt it stick: but an ingenious Fellow that was brought to her, seeing no outward Tu­mour nor alteration, supposing it to be only Conceit taken at some Crust of Bread that had hurt her as it went down, caus'd her to vomit, and cunningly, unseen, threw a crooked Pin into the Bason, which the Woman no sooner saw, but believing she had cast it up, she presently found her self eas'd of her pain. I my self knew a Gentleman, who having treated a great deal of good Company at his house, three or four dayes after brag'd in jest (for there was no such thing) that he had made them eat of a bak'd Cat; at which, a young Gentlewoman, who had been at the Feast, took such a horror, that falling into a violent vomiting and a Fever, there was no possible means to save her. Even brute Beasts are also subject to the force of Imagination as well as we; as is seen by Dogs, who dye of grief for the loss of their Masters, and are seen to quest, tremble, and start, as Horses [Page 151] will kick and whinney in their sleep. Now all this may be attributed to the affinity and relation betwixt the Souls and Bodies of Brutes, but 'tis quite another thing when the Imagination works upon the Souls of ratio­nal men, and not only to the prejudice of their own particular Bodies, but of others al­so. And as an infected Body communicates its Malady to those that approach, or live near it, as we see in the Plague, the small Pox, and sore Eyes, that run through whole Families and Cities;

So the Imagination being vehemently agita­ted, darts out Infection capable of offending the stranger Object. The Ancients had an opinion of certain Women of Scythia, that being animated and inrag'd against any one, they kill'd them only with their looks. Tor­toises and Ostriches hatch their Eggs with only looking on them, which infers, that their Eyes have in them some ejaculative ver­tue. And the eyes of Witches are said to be dangerous and hurtful.

Magicians are no very good Authority for me: but we experimentally see, that Wo­men impart the Marks of their Fancy to the Children they carry in their Wombs; wit­ness her that was brought to Bed of a Moor: and there was presented to Charles the Emperour, and King of Bohemia, a Girl from about Pisa, all over rough, and cover'd with Hair, whom her Mother said to be so conceiv'd by reason of a Picture of St. John Baptist, that hung within the Curtains of her Bed. It is the same with Beasts, witness Jacob's ring-streaked and spotted Goats, and Sheep, and the Hares and Partridges that the Snow turns white upon the Mountains. There was at my House a little while ago, a Cat seen watch­ing a Bird upon the top of a Tree, who for some time mutually fixing their Eyes upon one another, the Bird at last let her self fall as dead into the Cats Claws, either dazled and astonish'd by the Force of her own Imagination, or drawn by some attractive Power of the Cat. Such as are addicted to the Pleasures of the Field, have, I make no question, heard the Story of the Faulconer, who having ear­nestly fix'd his Eyes upon a Kite in the Ayr, lay'd a Wager, that he would [Page 153] bring her down with the sole Power of Sight, and did so, as it was said; for the Tales I borrow, I charge upon the Consciences of those from whom I have them. The Dis­courses are my own, and found themselves upon the Proofs of Reason, not of Expe­rience; to which every one has Liberty to add his own Examples: and who has none, (the Number and Varieties of Accidents consider'd) let him not forbear to believe that these I set down are enough: and if I do not apply them well, let some other do it for me. And also in the Subjects of which I treat, viz. of our Manners and Mo­tions, the Testimonies and Instances I pro­duce, how fabulous soever, provided they are possible, serve as well as the true; whe­ther it has really happen'd or no, at Rome or at Paris, to Peter or John, 'tis still within the Verge of Possibility, and humane Capacity, which serves me to good use, and supplies me with Variety in the things I write. I see, and make my Advantage of it as well in Sha­dow as in Substance; and amongst the vari­ous Examples I every where meet with in History, I cull out the most rare and memorable to fit my own Turn. There are some Authors whose only end and Design it is, to give an Account of things that have hapned; mine, if I could arrive unto it, should be to deliver what may come to pass. There is a just [Page 154] Liberty allow'd in the Schools, of supposing and contriving Simile's, when they are at a Loss for them in their own Reading: I do not, however, make any use of that Privi­ledge, and as to that Affair in superstitious Religion surpass all Historical Authority. In the Examples which I here bring in, of what I have heard, read, done, or said, I have forbid my self to dare to alter even the most light and indifferent Circumstances: my Conscience does not falsifie one Tittle, what my Ignorance may do I cannot say. And this it is that makes me sometimes enter into Dispute with my own Thoughts, whe­ther or no, a Divine, or a Philosopher, Men of so exact and tender Wisdom and Consci­ence, are fit to write History: for, how can they stake their Reputation upon the Publick Faith? how be responsible for the Opinions of Men they do not know? and with what Assurance deliver their Conjectures for cur­rent Pay? Of Actions perform'd before their own Eyes, wherein several Persons were Actors, they would be unwilling to give Evidence upon Oath before a Judge; and cannot be so familiarly and thoroughly ac­quainted with any for whose Intentions they would become absolute Caution. For my part, I think it less hazardous to write things past, than present, by how much the Writer is only to give an Account of things every one knows he must of necessity borrow up­on [Page 155] Trust. I am sollicited to write the Af­fairs of my own Time, by some who fancy I look upon them with an Eye less blinded with Prejudice, or Partiality, than another, and have a clearer Insight into them by rea­son of the free Access Fortune has given me to the Heads of both Factions: but they do not consider, that to purchase the Glory of Salust, I would not give my self the Trouble, being a sworn Enemy as I am to all Obliga­tion, Assiduity, and Perseverance: besides that, there is nothing so contrary to my Stile, as a continued and extended Narrative, I so often interrupt, and cut my self short in my Writing only for want of Breath. I have nei­ther Fancy, nor Expression worth any thing, and am ignorant beyond a Child, of the Phra­ses, and even the very Words proper to ex­press the most common things; and for that Reason it is, that I have undertaken to say only what I can say, and have accommoda­ted my Subject to my Force. Should I take one to be my Guide, peradventure I should not be able to keep Pace with him, and in the Precipitancy of my Career might deliver Things, which upon better Thoughts, in my own Judgment, and according to Reason, would be criminal, and punishable in the highest degree. Plutarch would tell us of what he has deliver'd to the Light, that it is the Work of others, that his Examples are all, and every where exactly true, that they [Page 156] are useful to Posterity, and are presented with a Lustre that will light us the way to Vertue, which was his Design: but it is not of so dangerous consequence as in a Medi­cinal Drugg, whether an old Story be so or so.

CHAP. XXI. That the Profit of one Man is the Inconveni­ence of another.

DEmades the Athenian, condemn'd one of his City, whose Trade it was to sell the Necessaries for Funeral Ceremo­nies, upon Pretence that he demanded un­reasonable Profit, and that that Profit could not accrue to him, but by the Death of a great Number of People. A Judgment that appears to be ill grounded, for as much as no Profit whatever can possibly be made but at the Expence of another, and that by the same Rule he should con­demn all manner of Gain of what kind soever. The Merchant only thrives, and grows rich, by the Pride, Wantonness, and Debauchery of Youth; the Husbandman by the Price and Scarcity of Grain; the Architect by the Ruine of Buildings; Law­yers, and Officers of Justice, by the Suits [Page 157] and Contentions of Men; nay, even the Honour and Office of Divines are deriv'd from our Death and Vices. A Physician takes no Pleasure in the Health even of his Friends, says the ancient Comical Greek, nor a Souldier in the Peace of his Country, and so of the rest. And, which is yet worse, let every one but dive into his own Bosome, and he will find his private Wishes spring, and his secret Hopes grow up at anothers Expence. Upon which Con­sideration it comes into my Head, that Na­ture does not in this swerve from her ge­neral Polity; for Physicians hold, that the Birth, Nourishment, and Encrease of every thing, is the Corruption and Dissolution of another.

CHAP. XXII. Of Custom, and that we should not easily change a Law receiv'd.

HE seems to me to have had a right and true apprehension of the power of Cu­stom, who first invented the Story of a Coun­try-woman, who having accustom'd her self to play with, and carry a young Calf in her Arms, and daily continuing to do so as it grew up, obtain'd this by Custom, that when grown to be a great Ox she was still able to bear it. For, in truth, Custom is a violent and treacherous School-mistris. She, by little and little, slily, and unperceiv'd, slips in the foot of her Authority, but having by this gentle and humble beginning, with the benefit of Time, fix'd and establish'd it, she then un­masks a furious and tyrannick Countenance, against which we have no more the courage or the power so much as to lift up our Eyes. We see it at every turn forcing and violating the Rules of Nature: Vsus efficacissimus rerum omnium magister;Plin. l. 6. Custom is the great Master of all things. I believe Plato's care in his Repub­lick, and the Physicians, who so often submit the Reasons of their Art to the authority of Habit; as also the story of that King, who by Custom brought his Stomach to that pass, as to live by Poison, and the Maid that Albertus [Page 159] reports to have liv'd upon Spiders; and in that new World of the Indies, there were found great Nations, and in very differing Climates, who were of the same Diet, made provision of them, and fed them for their Tables; as al­so, they did Grashoppers, Mice, Bats and Li­zards; and in a time of scarcity of such Ra­rities, a Toad was sold for six Crowns, all which they cook, and dish up with several Sawces. There were also others found, to whom our Diet, and the Flesh we eat were venemous and mortal. Consuetudinis magna vis est: Pernoctant venatores in nive: Cicero Tusc. l. 2. in mon­tibus uri se patiuntur: Pugiles, Caestibus contusi, ne ingemiscunt quidem. The power of Custom is very great: Hunts-men will one while lye out all night in the Snow, and another suffer themselves to be parch'd in the Mountains; and Fencers, inur'd to beating, when bang'd almost to pulp with Clubs and Whirde-Bats, disdain so much as to groan. These are strange Examples, but yet they will not appear so strange if we consider what we have ordina­ry experience of, how much Custom stupifies our Senses; neither need we go to be satisfied of what is reported of the Cataracts of Nile; and of what Philosophers believe of the Musick of the Spheres, that the Bodies of those Cir­cles being solid and smooth, and coming to touch, and rub upon one another, cannot fail of creating a wonderful Harmony, the chan­ges and cadencies of which, cause the Revo­lutions [Page 160] and Dances of the Stars: but that the hearing Sense of all Creatures here below, being universally, like that of the Egyptians, deaf'd, and stupified with the continual Noise, cannot, how great soever perceive it. Smiths, Millers, Pewterers, Forge-men, and Armorers, could never be able to live in the perpetual Noise of their own Trades, did it strike their Ears with the same Violence that it does ours. My perfum'd Doublet gratifies my own Smelling at first, as well as that of others; but after I have worn it three or four Days together, I no more perceive it; but it is yet more strange, that Custom, not­withstanding the long Intermissions and In­tervals, should yet have the Power to unite and establish the Effect of its Impressions up­on our Senses, as is manifest in such as live near unto Steeples, and the frequent noise of the Bells. I my self lye at home in a Tow­er, where every Morning and Evening a ve­ry great Bell rings out the Ave Maria, the Noise of which shakes my very Tower, and at first seem'd insupportable to me; but ha­ving now a good while kept that Lodging, I am so us'd to't, that I hear it without any manner of Offence, and often without awa­king at it. Plato reprehending a Boy for playing at some childish Game, Thou re­prov'st me (says the Boy) for a very little thing: Custom (reply'd Plato) is no little Thing. And he was in the right; for I find [Page 161] that our greatest Vices derive their first Pro­pensity from our most tender Infancy, and that our principal Education depends upon the Nurse. Mothers are mightily pleas'd to see a Child writhe off the Neck of a Chicken, or to please it self with hurting a Dog or a Cat; and such wise Fathers there are in the World, who look upon it as a notable Mark of a Martial Spirit, when he hears his Son mis-call, or sees him domineer over a poor Peasant, or a Lacquey, that dares not reply, nor turn again; and a great sign of Wit when he sees him cheat and over-reach his Play­fellow by some malicious Trick of Treachery and Deceit; but for all that, these are the true Seeds and Roots of Cruelty, Tyranny, and Treason. They bud and put out there,Deceit ought to be correct­ed in the greenest Years. and afterwards shoot up vigorously, and grow to a prodigious Bulk and Stature, be­ing cultivated and improv'd by Custom: and it is a very dangerous Mistake to excuse these vile Inclinations upon the Tenderness of their Age, and the triviality of the Subject: first, it is Nature that speaks, whose Declaration is then more sincere, and inward Thoughts more undisguised, as it is more weak and young: secondly, the Deformity of Cousen­age does not consist, nor depend upon the Difference betwixt Crowns and Pins; but merely upon it self, for a Cheat is a Cheat be it more or less; which makes me think it more just to conclude thus, Why should he [Page 162] not cozen in Crowns since he does it in Pins, than as they do, who say, they only play for Pins, he would not do it if it were for Money. Children should carefully be in­structed to abhor even the Vices of their own contriving; and the natural Deformity of those Vices ought so to be represented to them, that they may not only avoid them in their Actions, but especially so to abominate them in their Hearts, that the very Thought should be hateful to them, with what Mask soever they may be palliated or disguis'd. I know very well, for what concerns my self, that for having been brought up in my Childhood to a plain, and sincere way of dealing, and for having then had an Aversi­on to all manner of jugling and foul Play in my Childish Sports and Recreations (and in­deed it is to be noted, that the Plays of Chil­dren are not perform'd in Play, but are to be judg'd in them as their most serious Acti­ons) there is no Game so small wherein from my own Bosome naturally, and without stu­dy or endeavour, I have not an extream Aversion for Deceit. I shuffle, and cut, and make as much clatter with the Cards, and keep as strict Account for Farthings, as it were for double Pistols, when winning or losing against my Wife and Daughter is in­different to me, as when I play in good ear­nest with others for the roundest Sums. At all Times, and in all Places, my own Eyes [Page 163] are sufficient to look to my Fingers; I am not so narrowly watch'd by any other, nei­ther is there any I more fear to be discover'd by, or to offend.

I saw the other day, at my own House, a little Fellow who came to shew himself for Money, a Native of Nants, born without Arms, who has so well taught his Feet to perform the Services his Hands should have done him, that indeed they have half forgot their natural Office, and the use for which they were design'd; the Fellow too calls them his Hands, and we may allow him so to do, for with them he cuts any thing, charges and discharges a Pistol, threds a Needle, Sows, Writes, and puts off his Hat, combs his Head, plays at Cards and Dice, and [...]ll this with as much Dexterity as any other could do who had more, and more proper Limbs to assist him; and the Money I gave him he carried away in his Foot, as we do in our Hand. I have seen another, who be­ing yet a Boy, flourish'd a two-handed Sword, and (if I may so say) handled a Hal­bert vvith the mere Motions and Writhing of his Neck and Shoulders for vvant of hands, tost them into the Air, and catch'd them again, darted a Dagger, and crack'd a Whip as vvell as any Coach-man in France. But the Effects of Custom are much more mani­fest in the strange Impressions she imprints in our Minds, vvhere she meets vvith less Re­sistance, [Page 164] and has nothing so hard a Game to play. What has she not the Power to im­pose upon our Judgments and Belief? Is there any so fantastick Opinion (omitting the gross Impostures of Religions, with which we see so many populous Nations, and so many understanding men, so strangely besotted; for this being beyond the reach of Humane Reason, any Error is more excusable in such as thorough the Divine Bounty are not en­dued with an extraordinary Illumination from above) but of other Opinions are there any so senseless and extravagant, that she has not planted and establish'd for Laws in those Parts of the World upon which she has been pleased to exercise her Power? And therefore that ancient Exclamation was exceeding just,Cicero de Natu. Deor. Non pudet Physicum, id est speculatorem, venatorémque naturae, ab animis consuetudine imbutis quaerere testimonium veri­tatis? Is it not a Shame for a Philosopher, that is, for an Observer and Hunter of Na­ture, to derive Testimony from Minds pre­possess'd with Custom? I do believe, that no so absurd or ridiculous Fancy can enter into Humane Imagination, that does not meet with some Example of Publick Pra­ctice, and that consequently our Reason does not ground, and support it self upon. There are People, amongst whom it is the Fashion to turn their Backs upon him they salute, and never look upon the Man they [Page 165] intend to honour. There is a place, where, whenever the King spits, the greatest La­dies of his Court put out their hands to receive it; and another Nation, where the most eminent Persons about him stoop to take up his Ordure in a Linnen-cloth. Let us here steal room to insert a Story. A French Gentleman, of my acquaintance, was alwayes wont to blow his Nose with his Fingers, (a thing very much against our Fashion) would justifie himself for so doing, and was a man very famous for pleasant Repertees, who, up­on that occasion, ask'd me, what Priviledge this filthy Excrement had, that we must car­ry about us a fine Handkerchief to receive it, and which was more, afterwards to lap it carefully up, and carry it all day about in our Pockets, which, he said, could not but be much more nauseous and offensive, than to see it thrown away, as we did all other Evacuations. I found that what he said was not altogether without Reason, and by being frequently in his Company, that slovenly acti­on of his was at last grown familiar to me; which nevertheless we make a face at, when we hear it reported of another Country. Miracles appear to be so, according to our ig­norance of Nature, and not according to the Essence of Nature. The continually being accustom'd to any thing, blinds the eye of our Judgment. Barbarians are no more a wonder to us, than we are to them; nor with any more [Page 166] reason, as every one would confess, if after having travell'd over those remote Examples, Men could settle themselves to reflect upon, and rightly to confer them. Humane Rea­son is a Tincture equally infus'd almost into all our Opinions and Customs, of what form soever they are, infinite in Matter, infinite in Diversity. But I return to my Subject.

There are a People, where (his Wife and Children excepted) no one speaks to the King but through a Trunk. In one and the same Nation the Virgins discover those Parts that Modesty should perswade them to hide, and the married Women carefully cover and conceal. To which, this Custom in another Place has some Relation, where Chastity, but in Marriage, is of no Esteem, for unmarried Women may prostitute themselves to as many as they please, and being got with Child, may lawfully take Physick in the sight of every one to destroy their Fruit. And in another Place, if a Tradesman marry, all of the same Condition, who are invited to the Wedding, lye with the Bride before him; and the greater number of them there is, the greater is her Honour, and the Opinion of her Abi­lity and Strength: if an Officer marry, 'tis the same, the same with a Nobleman, and so of the rest, excepting it be a Labourer, or one of mean Condition, for then it belongs to the Lord of the Place to perform that Office; and yet a severe Loyalty during Marriage is [Page 167] afterward strictly enjoyn'd. There is a place where Bawdy-houses of Young-men are kept for the Pleasure of Women, as we know there are of Women for the Necessities of Men; and also Marriages, where the Wives go to War as well as the Husbands, and not only share in the dangers of Battel, but more­over in the Honours of Command. Others, where they wear Rings not only through their Noses, Lips, Cheeks, and on their Toes, but also weighty Gymmals of Gold thrust through their Paps and Buttocks: Where, in eating, they wipe their Fingers up­on their Thighs, Genitories, and the Soles of their Feet: Where Children are excluded and Brothers and Nephews only inherit; and elsewhere, Nephews only, saving in the Roy­al Family, and the Succession of the Crown: where, for the Regulation of Community in Goods and Estates observ'd in the Country, certain Sovereign Magistrates have committed to them the universal Charge, and over-seeing of the Agriculture, and Distribution of the Fruits according to the Necessity of every one: Where they lament the Death of Chil­dren, and Feast at the Decease of old Men: Where they lye ten or twelve in a Bed, Men and their Wives together: Where Women, whose Husbands come to violent Ends, may marry again, and others not: Where the servile Condition of Women is look'd upon with such Contempt, that they kill all the [Page 168] native Females, and buy Wives of their Neigh­bours to supply their Use; Where Husbands may repudiate their Wives, without shewing any Cause, but Wives cannot part from their Husbands, for what cause soever. Where Hus­bands may sell their Wives in case of sterility; Where they boyl the Bodies of their dead, and afterwards pound them to a pulp, which they mix with their Wine, and drink it; Where the most coveted Sepulture is to be eaten with Dogs, and elsewhere by Birds; Where they believe the Souls of the happy live in all manner of Liberty, in delightful Fields, furnish'd with all sorts of Delicacies, and that it is those Souls, repeating the words we utter, which we call Eccho. Where they fight in the Water, and shoot their Arrows with the most mortal Aim, swimming; Where, for a sign of Subjection, they lift up their Shoulders, and hang down their Heads, and put off their shooes when they enter the King's Palace. Where the Eunuchs, who take charge of the Religious Women, have moreover their Lips and Noses cut away, and disguis'd, that they may not be lov'd; and the Priests put out their own Eyes, to be better acquainted, with their Daemons, and the better to receive and retain their Oracles; Where every one creates to him­self a Deity of what he likes best, accor­ding to his own Fancy; the Hunter, a Lyon or a Fox, the Fisher, some certain [Page 169] Fish, and Idols of every Humane Action or Passion; in which place the Sun, the Moon, and the Earth are the principal Deities, and the form of taking an Oath is, to touch the Earth, looking up to Heaven; and there both Flesh and Fish is eaten raw; Where the greatest Oath they take is, to swear by the Name of some dead Person of Reputation, laying their hand upon his Tomb; Where the New-years Gift the King sends every Year to the Princes, his Subjects, is Fire, which being brought, all the old Fire is put out, and the neigh­bouring People are bound to fetch of the new, every one for themselves, upon pain of Treason; Where, when the King, to betake himself wholly to Devotion, retires from his Administration, (which often falls out) his next Successor is oblig'd to do the same; by which means the Right of the Kingdom devolves to the third in Suc­cession; Where they vary the Form of Government, according to the seeming ne­cessity of Affairs; Depose the King when they think good, substituting ancient men to govern in his stead, and sometimes trans­ferring it into the hands of the Common-People; Where Men and Women are both Circumciz'd and also Baptiz'd; Where the Soul­dier, who in one, or several Engagements, has been so fortunate, as to present seven of [Page 170] the Enemies Heads to the King, is made no­ble: where they live in that rare and singu­lar Opinion of the Mortality of the Soul: Where the Women are deliver'd without Pain or Fear: Where the Women wear Cop­per Fetters upon both their Legs, and if a Louse bite them, are bound in Magnanimity to bite them again, and dare not marry till first they have made their King a Tender of their Virginity, if he please to accept it: Where the ordinary way of Salutation is by putting a Finger down to the Earth, and then pointing it up towards Heaven: Where Men carry Burthens upon their Heads, and Women on their Shoulders, the Women pis­sing standing, and the Men cowring down: Where they send their Blood in token of Friendship, and unsee the men they would nour, like Gods: Where not only to the fourth, but in any other remote Degree, Kin­dred are not permitted to marry: Where the Children are four Years at Nurse, and some­times twelve; in which Place also it is ac­counted mortal to give the Child suck the first day after it is born: Where the Corre­ction of the male Children is peculiarly de­sign'd to the Fathers, and to the Mothers of the Females; the Punishment being to hang them by the Heels in the Smoak: Where they eat all sorts of Herbs, without other Scruple, than of the Illness of the Smell: Where all things are open, the finest Houses, and that [Page 171] are furnish'd with the richest Furniture, with­out Doors, Windows, Trunks, or Chests to lock, a Thief being there punish'd double to what they are in other Places: Where they crack Lice with their Teeth like Monkeys, and abhor to see them kill'd with ones Nails: Where in all their Lives they neither cut their Hair, nor pare their Nails; and in another Place, pare those of the Right-hand only, let­ting the left grow for Ornament and Brave­ry: Where they suffer the Hair on the right side to grow as long as it will, and shave the other; and in the neighb'ring Provinces, some let their Hair grow long before, and some behind, shaving close the rest: Where Pa­rents let out their Children, and Husbands their Wives, to their Guests to hire: Where a Man may get his own Mother with Child, and Fathers make use of their own Daugh­ters, or their Sons, without Scandal or Of­fence: Where at their solemn Feasts they in­terchangeably lend their Children to one ano­ther, without any consideration of Nearness of Blood. In one Place Men feed upon Humane Flesh, in another, 'tis reputed a charitable Of­fice for a Man to kill his Father at a certain Age; and elsewhere, the Fathers dispose of their Children whilst yet in their Mothers Wombs, some to be preserv'd and carefully brought up, and others they proscribe either to be thrown off, or made away. Elsewhere the old Husbands lend their Wives to Young-men; [Page 172] and in another place they are in com­mon, without offence; in one place particu­larly, the Women take it for a mark of Ho­nour to have as many gay fring'd Tassels at the bottom of their Garment, as they have lain with several men. Moreover, has not Custome made a Republick of Women se­parately by themselves? Has it not put Arms into their Hands, made them to raise Armies, and fight Battels? and does she not by her own Precept instruct the most ignorant Vulgar, and make them perfect in things which all the Philosophy in the World could never beat into the Heads of the wisest men? For we know entire Na­tions, where Death was not only despis'd, but entertain'd with the greatest Triumph; where Children of seven years old offer'd themselves to be whip'd to death, without changing their Countenance; where Riches was in such Contempt, that the poorest and most wretched Citizen would not have deign'd to stoop to take up a Purse of Crowns. And we know Regions very fruit­ful in all manner of Provisions, where, not­withstanding the most ordinary Diet, and that they are most pleas'd with, is only Bread, Cresses, and Water. Did not Cu­stom moreover work that Miracle in Chios, that of seven hundred Years it was never known, that ever Maid or Wife committed any act to the prejudice of her Honour? [Page 173] To conclude; there is nothing in my opi­nion, that she does not, or may not do; and therefore with very good reason it is, that Pindar calls her the Queen, and Em­press of the World. He that was seen to beat his Father, and reprov'd for so do­ing, made answer, that it was the Custom of their Family; that in like manner his Father had beaten his Grand-father, his Grand-father his great Grand-father, and this, sayes he, pointing to his Son, when he comes to my Age, shall beat me. And the Fa­ther, whom the Son dragg'd and hal'd a­long the streets, commanded him to stop at a certain Door, for he himself, he said, had dragg'd his Father no farther, that be­ing the utmost limit of the hereditary In­solence the Sons us'd to practice upon the Fathers in their Family. It is as much by Custom as Infirmity, (sayes Aristotle) that Women tear their Hair, bite their Nails, and eat Coals, Chalk, and such Trash, and more by Custom than Nature, that men abuse themselves with one another. The Laws of Conscience, which we pretend to be deriv'd from Nature, proceed from Custome; every one having an inward Ve­neration for the Opinions and Manners, approv'd and receiv'd amongst his own People, cannot without very great Relu­ctancy depart from them, nor apply himself [Page 174] to them without applause. In times past, when those of Creet would curse any one, they pray'd the Gods to engage them in some ill Custom. But the principal effect of the power of Custom is, so to seize and ensnare us, that it is hardly in our power to disen­gage our selves from its gripe; or so to come to our selves, as to consider of, and to weigh the things it enjoyns. To say the truth, by reason that we suck it in with our Milk, and that the face of the World pre­sents it self in this posture to our first sight, it seems as if we were born upon condition to pursue this Practice; and the common Fancies that we find in repute every where about us, and infus'd into our Minds with the Seed of our Fathers, appear to be most universal and genuine. From whence it comes to pass, that whatever is off the hinge of Custom, is believ'd to be also off the hinges of Reason; and how unreasonably for the most part, God knows. If, as we who study our selves, have learn'd to do, every one who hears a good Sentence, would im­mediately consider how it does any way touch his own private Concern, every one would find, that it was not so much a good Saying, as a severe Lash to the ordinary Be­stiality of his own Judgment: but men re­ceive the Precepts and Admonitions of Truth, as generally directed to the Common Sort, and never particularly to themselves; [Page 175] and instead of applying them to their own manners, do only very ignorantly and un­profitably commit them to memory, with­out suffering themselves to be at all instruct­ed, or converted by them; But let us re­turn to the Empire of Custom. Such Peo­ple as have been bred up to Liberty, and subject to no other Dominion but the autho­thority of their own Will, every one being a Sovereign to himself,Democra­cy. or at least govern'd by no wiser Heads than their own, do look upon all other Form of Government as mon­strous, and contrary to Nature.Monarchy. Those who are inur'd to Monarchy do the same; and what opportunity soever Fortune presents them with to change, even then, when with the greatest difficulties they have disengag'd themselves from one Master, that was trou­blesome and grievous to them, they pre­sently run, with the same difficulties, to cre­ate another; being not able, how roughly dealt with soever, to hate the Government they were born under, and the obedience they have so long been accustom'd to. 'Tis by the mediation and perswasion of Custom, that every one is content with the place where he is planted by Nature; and the High-landers of Scotland no more pant after the better Air of Tourain, than the starv'd Scythian after the delightful Fields of Thes­saly. Darius asking certain Greeks what they would take to assume the Custom of the In­dians, [Page 176] of eating the dead Corps of their Fa­thers, (for that was their Use, believing they could not give them a better, nor more noble Sepulture, than to bury them in their own Bodies) they made answer, That no­thing in the World should hire them to do it; but having also tryed to persuade the Indians to leave their barbarous Custom, and, after the Greek manner, to burn the Bodies of their Fathers, they conceiv'd a much greater horrour at the motion. Every one does the same, for as much as Use veils from us the true Aspect of things.

Taking upon me once to justifie some­thing in use amongst us, and that was re­ceiv'd with absolute Authority for a great many Leagues round about us, and not con­tent, as men commonly do, to establish it only by force of Law, and Example, but en­quiring still farther into its Original, I found the foundation so weak, that I who made it my business to confirm others, was very near being dissatisfy'd my self. 'Tis by this Re­ceipt that Plato undertakes to cure this un­natural [Page 177] and preposterous Loves of his Time, which he esteems of sovereign Vertue; name­ly, That the publick Opinion condemns them; That the Poets, and all other sorts of Writers, relate horrible Stories of them. A Recipe, by vertue of which the most beautiful Daugh­ters no more allure their Fathers Lust; nor Brothers of the finest Shape and Fashion their Sisters desire. The very Fables of Thyestes, Oedipus, and Macareus, having with the Harmony of their Song infus'd this wholsome Opinion and Belief into the tender Brains of Infants. Chastity is in truth a great and shi­ning Vertue, and of which the Utility is suf­ficiently known; but to govern, and prevail with it according to Nature, is as hard, as 'tis easie to do it according to Custom, and the Laws and Precepts of sober Practice. The original and fundamental Reasons are of very obscure and difficult search, and our Masters either lightly pass them over, or not daring so much as to touch them, precipitate them­selves into the Liberty and Protection of Cu­stom: such as will not suffer themselves to be withdrawn from this original Source, do yet commit a greater Error, and submit them­selves to wild and beastly Opinions; witness Chrysippus, who in so many of his Writings has strew'd the little Account he made of in­cestuous Conjunctions, committed with how near Relations soever. Whoever would dis­engage himself from this violent Prejudice of [Page 178] Custom, would find several things receiv'd with absolute and undoubting Opinion, that have no other Support than the hoary Head and rivell'd Face of ancient Use; and things be­ing referr'd to the Decision of Truth and Rea­son, he will find his Judgment convinc'd and overthrown, and yet restor'd to a much more sure Estate. For Example, I shall ask him, what can be more strange than to see a Peo­ple oblig'd to obey and pay a Reverence to Laws they never understood, and to be bound in all their Affairs, both of private and pub­lick Concern, as Marriages, Donations, Wills, Sales, and Purchases, to Rules they cannot possibly know, being neither writ nor pub­lish'd in their own Language, and of which they are of Necessity to purchase both the Interpretation and the Use? Not according to the ingenious Opinion of Socrates, who counsell'd his King to make the Trafficks and Negotiations of his Subjects, free, frank, and of Profit to them, and their Quarrels and Debates burdensome, and tart, and loaden with heavy Impositions and Penalties; but by a prodigious Opinion to make sale of Rea­son it self, and to allow the Law a course of Traffick. I think my self oblig'd to Fortune that (as our Historians report) it was a Gas­con Gentleman, a Country-man of mine, who first oppos'd Charlemain, when he attempted to impose upon us Latine and Imperial Laws. What can be more severe or unjust, than to [Page 179] see a Nation, where, by lawful Custom, the Office of a Judge is to bought and sold, where Judgments are paid for with ready Money, and where Justice may legally be denied to him that has not wherewithall to pay; a Merchandize in so great Repute, as in a Go­vernment to serve a fourth Estate of wrang­ling Lawyers, to add to the three ancient ones of the Church, Nobility, and People; which fourth Estate, having the Laws in their hands, and sovereign Power over Mens Lives and Fortunes, make another separate Body of Nobility: from whence it comes to pass, that there are double Laws, those of Honour, and those of Justice, in many things positively opposite to one another, the Nobles as rigo­rously condemning a Lye taken, as the other do a Lye reveng'd: By the Law of Arms, he shall be degraded from all Nobility and Ho­nour who puts up an Affront; and by the Civil Law, he who vindicates his Reputati­on by Revenge incurs a Capital Punishment: who applies himself to the Law for Repara­tion of an Offence done to his Honour, dis­graces himself; and who does not, is cen­sur'd and punish'd by the Law. Yet of these two so different things, both of them refer­ring to one Head, the one has the Charge of Peace, the other of War; those have the Profit, these the Honour; those the Wisdom, these the Vertue; those the Word, these the Action; those Justice, these Valour; those [Page 180] Reason these Force, those the long Robe, these the short divided betwixt them.

For what concerns indifferent things, as Cloaths, who would debauch them from their true and real use, which is the Bodies Service and Convenience, and upon which their ori­ginal Grace and Decency depend, for the most fantastick, in my Opinion, that can be imagin'd? I will instance amongst others, our flat Caps, that long Tail of Velvet that hangs down from our Womens Heads, and that las­civious and abominable model of a Member we cannot in Modesty so much as name, which nevertheless we shamefully strut with­all in publick. These Considerations not­withstanding will not prevail upon any un­derstanding Man to decline the common Mode; but on the contrary, methinks all sin­gular and particular Fashions are rather marks of Folly and vain Affection, than of sound Reason, and that a wise man ought within to withdraw and retire his Soul from the Crowd, and there keep it at Liberty, and in Power to judge freely of things; but as to this outward Garb and Appearance, abso­lutely to follow and conform himself to the Fashion of the Time. Publick Socie­ty has nothing to do with our Thoughts, but the rest, as our Actions, our Labours, our Fortunes, and our Lives, we are to lend and abandon them to the common Opinion and Publick Service, as did that [Page 181] good and great Socrates who refus'd to pre­serve his Life by a Disobedience to the Ma­gistrate, though a very wicked and unjust one: for it is the Rule of Rules, and the general Law of Laws, that every one observe those of the Place wherein he lives.

Besides, it is a very great doubt, whether any so manifest Benefit and Advantage can accrue from the Alteration of a Law or Custom re­ceiv'd, let it be what it will, as there is Dan­ger and Inconvenience in doing it; foras­much as Government is a Structure compos'd of several Parts and Members joyn'd and united together, with so strict Affinity and Union, that it is almost impossible to stir so much as one Brick or Stone, but the whole Body will settle and be sensible of it. The Legislator of the Thurians or­dain'd, That whosoever would go about either to abolish old Laws, or to establish new, should present himself with a Hal­ter about his Neck to the People, to the end, that if the Innovation he would intro­duce should not be approv'd by every one, he might immediately be hang'd; and that of the Lacedaemonians made it the [Page 182] Business of his whole Life, to obtain from his Citizens a faithful Promise, that none of his Laws should be violated. The Ephorus who so rudely cut the two Strings that Phrynis had added to Musick, never stood to examine whether that Addition made better Harmo­ny, or that by that means the Instrument was more full and compleat; it was enough to him to condemn the Invention, that it was a Novelty, and an Alteration of the old Fa­shion. Which also is the Meaning of the old rusty Sword carried before the Magistracy of Marcelles. For my own part, I have my self a very great Aversion for Novelty, what Face, or what Pretence soever it may carry along with it, and have reason, having been an Eye-witness of the great Inconveniences it has produc'd. A man cannot, I confess, truly say, That the Miseries, which for so ma­ny Years have lain so heavy upon the King­dom of France, are wholly occasion'd by it; but a Man may say, and with colour enough, that it has accidentally produc'd and begot both the Mischiefs and Ruines that are since continued both without and against it, and it principally that we are to accuse for these Disorders.

[Page 183]They who give the first shock to a State, are voluntarily the first over-whelm'd in its Ruine; the Fruits of publick Commotion are seldom enjoy'd by him who was the first Mo­tor, he only troubles the Water for anothers Net, and beats the Bush whilst another gets the Hare. The Unity and Contexture of this Monarchy, having been manifestly in her old Age rip'd and torn by this thing call'd Innovation, has since laid open a Rent, and given sufficient Admittance to the like Inju­ries in these latter Times. The Royal Maje­sty does with greater Difficult stoop and de­base it self from the height to the Middle, than it falls and tumbles headlong from the Middle to the Foundation. But if the Inven­tors did the greater mischief, the Imitators are more vicious, to follow Examples of which they have felt, and punish'd both the Horror and the Offence. And if there can be any degree of Horror in ill doing, these last are indebted to the other for the Glory of contriving, and the Courage of making the first Attempt. All sorts of new Disorder ea­sily draw from this primitive and over-flow­ing Fountain, Examples and Presidents to trouble and discompose our Government. We read in our very Laws made for the remedy of this first Evil, the Beginning and Preten­ces of all sorts of naughty Enterprizes; and in favour of publick Vices, give them new and more plausible Names for their Excuse, [Page 184] sweetning and disguising their true Titles, which must be done to win forsooth, and reclaim us, Honesta oratio est: but the best Pretence for Innovation is of very dangerous Consequence; and freely to speak my Thoughts, it argues methinks a strange self Love, and a great Presumption of a Man's self, to be so fond of his own Opinions, that a publick Peace must be overthrown to esta­blish them, and to introduce so many inevi­table Mischiefs, and so dreadful a Corruption of Manners, as a Civil War, and the Muta­tions of State consequent to it, always brings in its Train; and to introduce them in a thing of so high Concern, into the Bowels of a Man's own Country. Can there be worse Husbandry than to set up so many cer­tain and detected Vices against Errors, that are only contested, and disputable whether they be such or no? And are there any worse sorts of Vices than those committed against a man's own Conscience, and the natural Light of his own Reason? The Senate, upon the Dispute betwixt it and the Peo­ple about the Administration of their Re­ligion, was bold enough to return this Eva­sion for current Pay: Ad Deos, id magis quàm ad se pertinere: ipsos visuros, ne sacra sua polluantur: That those things more belong to the Gods to determine, than to them, let them therefore have a care their sacred My­steries were not prophan'd: according [Page 185] to that the Oracle answer'd to those of Del­phos, who, fearing to be invaded by the Per­sians, in the Median War, enquir'd of Apol­lo, how they should dispose of the holy Treasure of his Temple, whether they should hide, or remove it to some other Place? He return'd them Answer, that they should stir nothing from thence, and only take care of themselves, for he was sufficient to look to what belong'd to him. Christian Religion has all the Marks of the utmost Utility and Justice: but none more manifest than the se­vere Injunction it lays indifferently upon all to yield absolute Obedience to the Civil Magistrate, and to maintain and defend the Laws: of which, what a wonderful Ex­ample has the Divine Wisdom left us, who, to work and establish the Salvation of Mankind, and to conduct this his glorious Victory over Death and Sin, would do it after no other way, but at the Mercy of our ordinary forms of Justice, submitting the Progress and Issue of so high, and so sa­lutiferous an Effect, to the blindness, and in­justice of our Customs and Observations, suffering the innocent Blood of so many of his Elect, and so long a loss of so many Years to the maturing of this inestimable Fruit? There is a vast difference betwixt the Cases of one that follows the Forms and Laws of his Country, and another that will under­take to regulate and change them; of [Page 186] which the first pleads Simplicity, Obedi­ence, and Example for his Excuse, who, what ever he shall do, it cannot be imputed to Malice, 'tis at the worst but Mifortune. Quis est enim, quem non moveat clarissimis monumentis testata, Cicero de Divin. 1. consignataque antiquitas? For who is it that Antiquity, sealed, and at­tested with so many glorious Monuments cannot move? Besides what Isocrates says, that Defect is nearer ally'd to Moderation than Excess. The other is a much more ruf­fling Gamester: for whosoever shall take upon him to choose, to alter, and usurp the Authority of judging, ought to look well about him, and make it his Business to discover the Defect of what he would abo­lish, and the vertue of what he is about to introduce. This so easie, and so vulgar con­sideration, is that which setled me in my Station, and kept even my most extravagant and ungovern'd Youth under the rein, so as not to burthen my Shoulders with so great a weight, as to render my self responsible for a Science of that importance; and in this to dare, what in my better, and more mature Judgment, I durst not do in the most easie, and indifferent things I had been instructed in, and wherein the temerity of judging is of no consequence at all. It seeming to me very unjust to go about to subject publick and establish'd Customs and Institutions, to the weakness, and instability of a private [Page 187] and particular Fancy, (for private Reason is but a private Jurisdiction) and to attempt that upon the Divine, which no Government will endure a Man should do upon the Ci­vil Laws. With which, though humane Rea­son has much more Commerce, than with the other; yet are they sovereignly judg'd by their own proper Judges, and the utmost sufficiency, serves only to expound, and set forth the Law, and Custom receiv'd, and nei­ther to wrest it, nor to introduce any thing of Innovation. And if sometimes the Divine Providence have gon beyond the Rules, to which it has necessarily bound, and oblig'd us Men; it is not to give us any Dispensation to do the same; those are only master stroaks of the Divine hand, which we are not to imitate, but admire, and extraordinary Ex­amples, marks of purpos'd, and particular Testimonies of Power, of the Nature of Mi­racles, presented before us for Manifestations of its Almighty Operation, equally above both our Rules and Forces, which it would be Folly, and Impiety to attempt to represent and imitate; and that we ought not to fol­low, but to contemplate with the greatest Reverence and Astonishment. Arts proper for his Person who has Power to do them, and not for us. Cotta very opportunely de­clares, that when Matter of Religion is in question, he will be govern'd by T. Corun­canus, P. Scipio, P. Scaevola, who were the [Page 188] High Priests, and not by Zeno, Cleanthes, or Chrysippus, who were Philosophers. God knows in the present Quarrel of our Civil War, where there are a hundred Articles to dash out and to put in, and these great and very considerable ones too, how many there are who can truly boast, they have exactly and perfectly weigh'd and understood the grounds and Reasons of the one and the other Party. 'Tis a Number (if it make any number) that would be able to procure us very little Disturbance: but what becomes of all the rest, under what Ensigns do they march, in what Quarter do they lye? Theirs have the same Effect with other weak and ill apply'd Medicines, they have only set the Humours they would Purge, more vi­olently in working, stirr'd and exasperated them by the Conflict, and left them still be­hind. The Aposeme was too weak to Purge, but strong enough to weaken us; so that it does not work, but we keep it still in our Bodies, and reap nothing from the Operation but intestine Gripes and Dolours; so it is nevertheless, that Fortune still reserving her Authority in Defiance of whatever we are able to do or say, does sometimes present us with a Necessity so urgent, that 'tis requisite the Laws should a little yield, and give way; and when one opposes the Encrease of an Innova­tion [Page 189] that thus intrudes it self by Violence, to keep a Man's self in so doing in all Pla­ces, and in all things, within the Bounds and Rules prescrib'd, against those who have the Power, and to whom all Things are lawful, that may any way serve to advance their Design, who have no other Law nor Rule but what serves best to their own Pur­pose; is a dangerous Obligation, and an in­tolerable Inequality.

Forasmuch as the ordinary Discipline of a healthful State does not provide against these extraordinary Accidents, she presuppo­ses a Body that supports it self in its prin­cipal Members and Offices, and a common Consent to its Obedience and Observation. A legal Proceeding is cold, heavy, and con­strain'd, and not fit to make Head against a head-strong and unbridled Proceeding. 'Tis known to be to this day cast in the Dish of those two great Men, Octavius and Cato, in the two Civil Wars of Scyl­la and Caesar, that they would rather suf­fer their Country to undergo the last Ex­tremities, than to relieve their Fellow-Citizens [Page 190] at the Expence of its Laws, or to be guilty of any Innovation; for in truth, in these last Necessities, where there is no other Remedy, it would peradventure be more discreetly done, to stoop, and yield a little to receive the Blow, than by opposing with­out Possibility or doing any good, to give occasion to Violence to trample all under foot; and better to make the Laws do what they can, when they cannot do what they would. After this manner did he who sus­pended them for four and twenty Hours, and he who for once shifted a Day in the Calen­dar, and that other who in the Month of June made a Second of May. The Lacedae­monians themselves, who were so religious Observers of the Laws of their Country, be­ing straitned by one of their own Edicts, by which it was expresly forbidden to choose the same Man to be Admiral; and on the other side, their Affairs necessarily requiring, that Lysander should again take upon him that Command, they made one Aratus Admi­ral, 'tis true, but withall, Lysander went Su­perintendent of the Navy. And by the same Subtilty and Equivocation, one of their Am­bassadours being sent to the Athenians to ob­tain the Revocation of some Decree, and Pericles remonstrating to him, that it was forbid to take away the Tablet wherein a Law had once been engross'd, he advis'd him to turn it only, that being not forbidden at [Page 191] all; and Plutarch commends Philopoemen, that being born to Command, he knew how to do it, not only according to the Laws, but also to over-rule even the Laws them­selves, when the publick Necessity so requir'd.

CHAP. XXIII. Various Events from the same Counsel.

JAques Amiot, great Almoner of France, one day related to me this Story, much to the Honour of a Prince of ours (and ours he is upon several very good Accounts, though originally of Foreign Extraction) that in the time of our first Commotions at the Siege of Roüen, this Prince, having been advertis'd by the Queen-Mother of a Conspiracy against his Life, and in her Letters particular notice being given him of the Person who was to execute the Business, (who was a Gentleman of Anjou, or else of Mayne, and who to this Effect did frequently haunt this Prince's House) discover'd not a Syllable of this In­telligence to any one whatever, but going the next day to St. Katherines Mount, from whence our Battery play'd against the Town (for it was during the Time of a Siege) and having in Company with him the said Lord Almoner, and another Bishop, he was pre­sently [Page 192] aware of this Gentleman, who had been denoted to him, and presently caus'd him to be call'd to his Presence; to whom, being come before him, seeing him pale, and trem­bling with the Conscience of his Guilt, he thus said, Monsieur such a one, You already guess what I have to say to you, your Counte­nance discovers it, and therefore 'tis in vain to disguise your Practice; for I am so well inform'd of your Business, that it will but make worse for you, to go about to conceal or to deny it: you know very well such and such Passages, (which were the most secret Circumstances of his Conspiracy) and therefore be sure, as you ten­der your own Life, to confess to me the whole Truth of your Design. The poor Man seeing himself thus trap'd, and convinc'd (for the whole Business had been discover'd to the Queen by one of the Complices) was in such a Taking, he knew not what to do; but joyning his Hands to beg and sue for Mercy, he meant to throw himself at this Prince's Feet, who taking him up, proceeded to say, Come on Sir, and tell me, have I at any time heretofore done you any Injury? or have I, through my particular Hatred or private Malice, offended any Kinsman or Friend of yours? It is not above three Weeks that I have known you; What Inducement then could move you to attempt my Death? To which the Gentleman, with a trembling Voice, reply'd, That it was no particular Grudge he had to his Person, but [Page 193] the general Interest and Concern of his Party, and that he had been put upon it by some who had perswaded him it would be a meritorious Act, by any means to extirpate so great and so powerful an Enemy of their Religion. Well, said the Prince, I will now let you see, how much more charitable the Religion is that I maintain, than that which you profess; Yours has perswaded you to kill me, without hearing me speak, and without ever having given you any cause of Offence; and mine commands me to for­give you, convict as you are, by your own Con­fession, of a Design to murther me without Reason. Get you gone, that I see you no more; and if you are wise, choose henceforward honest­er Men for your Counsellors in your Designs. The Emperour Augustus, being in Gaule, had certain information of a Conspiracy L. Cinna was contriving against him, who there­upon resolv'd to make him an Example; and to that end sent to summon his Friends to meet the next morning in Counsel; but the night between he past over with great unquietness of Mind, considering that he was to put to death a young man, of an il­lustrious Family, and Nephew to the great Pompey, which made him break out into se­veral ejaculations of Passion: What then, said he, Shall it be said, that I shall live in perpetual Anxiety, and continual Alarm, and suffer my Assassinates in the mean time to walk abroad at Liberty? Shall he go unpu­nished [Page 194] after having conspir'd against my Life, a Life that I have hitherto defended in so many Civil Wars, and so many Battels both by Land and Sea? And after having setled the Universal Peace of the whole World, shall this man be pardoned, who has conspi­red not only to Murther, but to Sacrifice me? For the Conspiracy was to kill him at Sacri­fice. After which, remaining for some time silent, he re-begun louder, and straining his Voice more than before to exclaim against himself, and say, Why liv'st thou? If it be for the good of many that thou should'st Dye? must there be no end of thy Revenges and Cruelties? Is thy Life of so great value, that so many Mischiefs must be done to preserve it? His Wife Livia, seeing him in this per­plexity; Will you take a Woman's Counsel, said she? Do as the Physicians do, who, when the ordinary Recipe's will do no good, make Tryal of the contrary. By severity you have hitherto prevail'd nothing; Lepidus has follow'd Savidienus, Murena Lepidus, Caepio Murena, and Egnatius Caepio. Begin now, and try how Sweetness and Clemency will succeed. Cinna is convict, forgive him, he will never henceforth have the Heart to hurt thee, and it will be an Act of Glory. Au­gustus was glad that he had met with an Advo­cate of his own Humour; wherefore, having thank'd his Wife, and in the Morning coun­termanded his Friends he had before sum­mon'd [Page 195] to Council, he commanded Cinna all alone to be brought to him; who being ac­cordingly come, and a Chair by his Appoint­ment set him, having commanded every one out of the Room, he spake to him after this manner: In the first place, Cinna, I demand of thee patient Audience; do not interrupt me in what I am about to say, and I will af­terwards give thee Time and Leisure to an­swer. Thou know'st, Cinna, that having ta­ken thee Prisoner in the Enemies Camp, and that an Enemy not only made, but born so, I gave thee thy Life, restor'd thee all thy Goods, and finally put thee in so good a po­sture, by my Bounty, of living well, and at thy ease, that the Victorious envy'd the Con­quer'd. The Sacerdotal Office which thou mad'st Suit to me for, I conferr'd upon thee, after having deny'd it to others, whose Fa­thers have ever borne Arms in my Service: and after so many Obligations thou hast un­dertaken to kill me. At which Cinna cry­ing out, that he was very far from entertain­ing any so wicked a Thought; Thou dost not keep thy Promise, Cinna, (continued Augu­stus) that thou would'st not interrupt me. Yes, thou hast undertaken to murther me in such a Place, such a Day, in such and such Company, and in such a Manner. At which Words seeing Cinna astonish'd and silent, not upon the Account of his Promise so to be, but interdict with the Conscience of his [Page 196] Crime; Why, proceeded Augustus, to what end would'st thou do it? Is it to be Empe­rour? Believe me, the Republick is in a ve­ry ill Condition, if I am the only Man betwixt thee and the Empire. Thou art not able so much as to defend thy own House, and but t'other day wast baffled in a Suit, by the oppos'd Interest of a mean manumitted Slave. What, hast thou neither Means nor Power in any other thing, but only to attempt against Caesar? I quit claim to the Empire, if there is no other but I to obstruct thy Hopes. Can'st thou believe, that Paulus, that Fa­bius, that the Cassians and Servilians, and so many Noble Romans, not only so in Title, but who by their Virtue honour their Nobility, would suffer or endure thee? After this, and a great deal more that he said to him, (for he was two long Hours in speaking) Well, Cinna, go thy way, said he, I again give thee that Life in the Quality of a Traytor and a Parri­cide, which I once before gave thee in the Quality of an Enemy. Let Friendship from this time forward begin betwixt us, and let us try to make it appear whether I have given, or thou hast receiv'd thy Life with the better Faith; and so departed from him. Some time after, he preferr'd him to the Consular Dignity, complaining, that [Page 197] he had not the Confidence to demand it; had him ever after for his very great Friend, and was at last made by him sole Heir to all his Estate. Now from the time of this Accident, which befell Au­gustus in the fortieth Year of his Age, he never had any Conspiracy or Attempt against him, and therein reap'd the due Reward of this his so generous and exem­plary Clemency. But it did not so well succeed with our Prince in the former Story, his Moderation and Mercy not be­ing sufficient so to secure him, that he did not afterwards fall into the Toils of the like Treason, so vain and frivolous a thing is Humane Prudence; and in spite of all our Projects, Counsels, and Praecau­tions, Fortune will still be Mistress of Events. We repute Physicians fortunate when they hit upon a lucky Cure, as if there was no other Art but theirs that could not stand upon its own Legs, and whose Foundations are too weak to support it self upon its own Basis; and as if no other Art stood in need of Fortunes Hand to assist in its Operations. For my part, I think of Physick as much good or ill as any one would have me: for, Thanks be to God, we have no great Traffick together. I am of a quite contrary Humour to other men, for I always despise it; but when I am sick, instead of recanting, or entring into Compo­sition [Page 198] with it, I begin yet more to hate, nau­seate, and fear it, telling them who impor­tune me to enter into a course of Physick, that they must give me time to recover my Strength and Health, that I may be the bet­ter able to support and encounter the vio­lence and danger of the Potion: so that I still let Nature work, supposing her to be suffici­ently arm'd with Teeth and Claws to defend her self from the Assaults of Infirmity, and to uphold that Contexture, the Dissolution of which she flies and abhors: for I am afraid, lest instead of assisting her when grappled, and strugling with the Disease, I should assist her Adversary, and procure new Work, and new Accidents to encounter. Now I say, that not in Physick only, but in other more certain Arts, Fortune has a very great inte­rest and share. The Poetick Raptures, and those prodigious flights of Fancy, that ravish and transport the Author out of himself, why should we not attribute them to his good Fortune, since the Poet himself confesses they exceed his Sufficiency and Force, and ac­knowledges them to proceed from something else than himself, and has them no more in his Power than the Orators say they have those extraordinary Motions and Agitations that sometimes push them beyond their De­sign. It is the same in Painting, where Touch­es shall sometimes slip from the hand of the Painter, so surpassing both his Fancy and his [Page 199] Art, as to beget his own Admiration. But Fortune does yet more accidently manifest the share she has in all things of this kind, by the Graces and Elegancies are found out in them, not only beyond the Intention, but even without the Knowledge of the Artist. A judicious Reader does often find out in other Mens Writings, other kind of Perfecti­ons, and finds in them a better Sence and more quaint Expression than the Author him­self either intended or perceiv'd. And, as to military Enterprizes and Executions, every one sees how great a hand Fortune has in all those Affairs; even in our very Counsels and Deliberations there must certainly be something of Chance and good Luck mix'd with Humane Prudence, for all that our Wis­dom can do alone is no great matter; the more piercing, quick, and apprehensive it is, the weaker it finds it self, and is by so much more apt to mistrust its own Vertue. I am of Sylla's Opinion, and when I most strictly and nearer hand examine the most glorious Exploits of War, I perceive, methinks, that those who carry them on, make use of Coun­sel and Debate only for Customs sake, and leave the best part of the Enterprize to For­tune, and relying upon her Favour and As­sistance, transgress at every turn the Bounds of Military Conduct, and the Rules of War. There happen sometimes accidental Alacrities and strange Furies in their Deliberations, that [Page 200] for the most part prompt them to follow the worst, and worst grounded Counsels, and that swell their Courages beyond the Limits of Reason:Monluc in his Com­mentarisse. from whence it falls out, that many great Captains, to justifie those temera­rious Deliberations, have been forc'd to tell their Souldiers, that they were by some In­spiration and good Omen encourag'd and in­vited to such Attempts. Wherefore, in this Doubt and Uncertainty that the short-sight­edness of Humane Wisdom to see and choose the best, (by reason of the Difficulties that the various Accidents and Circumstances of things bring along with them) does per­plex us withall, the surest way in my Opi­nion, did no other Consideration invite us to it, more to pitch upon that wherein is the greatest Appearance of Honesty and Ju­stice, and not being certain of the shortest, to go the straitest and most direct way; as in these two Examples I have before laid down; there is no question to be made but it was more noble and generous in him who had receiv'd the Offence, to pardon it, as they both did, than to do other­wise; and if the former miscarried in it, he is not nevertheless to be blam'd for his good Intention: neither does any one know if he had proceeded otherwise, whether by that means he had avoided the end his Destiny had appointed for him; and he had however lost the Glory of so generous an Act. You [Page 201] will find in History, of many who have been in this apprehension, that the most part have taken the course to meet, and pre­vent Conspiracies by Punishment and Re­venge; but I find but very few who have reap'd any Advantage by this proceeding; witness so many Roman Emperours: and whoever finds himself in this danger, ought not to expect much either from his Vigilan­cy or Power; for how hard a thing is it for a man to secure himself from an Enemy, who lies conceal'd under the countenance of the most officious Friend we have, and to discover and know the Wills and in­ward Thoughts of those who are continu­ally doing us service. 'Tis to much purpose to have a Guard of Strangers about a man's Person, and to be always fenced about with a Pale of armed men; whosoever despises his own Life, is always Master of that of an­other man. And moreover, this continu­al suspition, that makes a Prince jealous of all the World, must of necessity be a strange Torment to him, and therefore it was, that Dion, being advertis'd that Ca­lippus watch'd all opportunities to take a­way his Life, had never the Heart to enquire more particularly into it, saying, that he had rather dye, than live in that misery, that he must continually stand up­on his Guard, not onely against his Ene­mies, but his Friends also; which Alexander [Page 202] much more lively manifested in effect, when having notice by a Letter from Parmenio, that Philip, his most beloved Physician, was by Darius his money corrupted to poyson him, at the same time that he gave the Letter to Philip to read, sup'd off the Potion he had brought him. Was not this by such a Resolu­tion to express, that if his Friends had a mind to dispatch him out of the World, he was willing to give them opportunity to do it? This Prince is indeed the Sovereign Presi­dent of all hazardous Actions; but I do not know whether there be another passage in his Life wherein there is so much steadiness and constancy as in this, nor so illustrious an I­mage of the greatness of his Mind. Those who preach to Princes so circumspect and vigilant a jealousie and distrust, under colour of Se­curity, preach to them ruine and dishonour. Nothing Noble can ever be perform'd with­out Danger. I know a Person, naturally of a very great daring and enterprizing Cou­rage, whose good fortune is continually pre­vented, and fore-stall'd by such persuasions, that he must retire into the gross of his own Body, and keep those he knows are his Friends continually about him, that he must not hearken to any Reconciliation with his antient Enemies, that he must stand off, and not trust his Person in hands stronger than his own, what promises or offers soever they may make him, or what advantages soever he [Page 203] may see before him. And I know another, who has unexpectedly made his Fortune by following a contrary Advice. Courage, the Reputation and Glory of which men seek with so greedy an Appetite, represents and sets it self out when need requires, as magni­ficently in Querpo, as in the neatest Arms, in a Closet, as well as a Camp; and this over-circumspect and wary Prudence is a mortal Enemy to all high and generous Exploits. Scipio, to sound Syphax his intention, leaving his Army, and abandoning Spain, not yet se­cure, nor well settled in his new Conquest, could pass over into Africk in two contem­ptible Bottoms, to commit himself, in an Ene­mies Countrey, to the power of a Barbarian King, to a Faith untry'd and unknown, with­out Precaution, without Hostage, under the sole security of the greatness of his own Cou­rage, his good Fortune, and the promise of his elevated Hopes.Livius. Habita fides ipsam ple­rumque fidem obligat. Trust oftentimes obliges Fidelity. On the contrary, Fear and Diffi­dence invite and draw on injury and offence. The most mistrustful of all our Kings settled his Affairs principally by voluntarily giving up his Life and Liberty into his Enemies hands, by that action manifesting that he had an ab­solute confidence in them, to the end they might repose as great an assurance in him. Caesar did onely oppose the Authority of his Countenance, and the sharpness of his [Page 204] Rebukes to his mutinous Legions, and rebel­lious Army.

But it is true withall, that this undaunted assurance is not to be represented in its true and lively form, but by such whom the ap­prehension of Death, and the worst that can happen, does no way terrifie and affright; for to represent a pretended Resolution with a pale and doubtful Countenance, and trem­bling Limbs for the forc'd Service of an im­portant Reconciliation, will effect nothing to purpose. 'Tis an excellent way to gain the Heart, and conquer the Will of another, to go submit, and intrust a man's Person to him, provided it appear to be frankly done, and without the constraint of Necessity, and in such a condition, that a man manifest­ly does it out of a pure and entire confi­dence in the Party, at least with a Counte­nance clear from any Cloud of suspition. I saw, when I was a Boy, a Gentleman, who was Governour of a great City, upon occa­sion of a Popular Commotion and Fury, not [Page 205] knowing what other course to take, go out of a Place of very great Strength and Security, and commit himself to the mercy of the seditious Rabble, in hopes by that means to appease the Tumult before it grew to a more formida­ble Head: but it was ill for him that he did so, for he was there miserably slain. But I am not nevertheless of opinion, that he committed so great an Errour in going out, as men common­ly reproach his Memory withall, as he did in choosing a gentle and submissive way for the effecting his purpose, and in endeavouring to quiet this storm, rather by obeying than com­manding, and by Entreaty rather than Remon­strance; and am inclin'd to believe, that a gra­cious Severity, with a Souldier-like way of commanding, full of Security, and confidence suitable to the Quality of his Person, and the Dignity of his Command, would have succeed­ed better with him; at least, he had perish'd with greater Decency and Reputation. There is nothing so little to be expected, or hop'd for from this many-headed Monster, when so incens'd, as Humanity and good Nature; it is much more capable of Reverence and Fear. I should also reproach him, that ha­ving taken a Resolution (in my Judgment rather brave than rash) to expose him­self weak and naked in this tempestuous Sea of enraged Franticks, he ought boldly to have stemm'd the Current, and to have born himself bravely aloft; whereas com­ming [Page 206] to discover his Danger nearer hand, and his Nose thereupon hapning to bleed, he again chang'd that demiss and fawning Coun­tenance he had at first put on, into another of Fear and Amazement, and filling both his Voice and Eyes with Entreaties and Tears, and in that Posture endeavouring to withdraw and secure his Person, that Carriage more enflam'd their Fury, and soon brought the Effects of it upon him. It was upon a time in a certain Place ordered by some, who had no very good Meaning in it, that there should be a general Muster of se­veral Troops in Arms (for that is the most proper Scene of secret Revenges, and there is no Place where they can be executed with greater Safety) and there were publick and manifest Appearances, that there was no safe coming for some, whose principal and neces­sary Office it was to view them. Whereupon, a Consultation was call'd, and several Coun­sels were propos'd, as in a case that was very nice, and of great Difficulty; and moreover, of important consequence. Mine, amongst the rest, was, that they should by all means avoid giving any sign of Suspicion, but that the Officers who were most in danger should boldly go, and with cheerful and erect Coun­tenances ride boldly and confidently tho­rough the Files and Divisions, and that in­stead of sparing Fire (which the Counsels of the major part tended to) they should entreat [Page 207] the Captains to command the Souldiers to give round and full Volleys in Honour of the Spectators, and not to spare their Powder: which was accordingly done, and serv'd to so good use, as to please and gratifie the sus­pected Troops, and thenceforward to beget a mutual and wholsome Confidence and In­telligence amongst them. I look upon Julius Caesar's way of winning Men to him as the best, and most plausible, that can possibly be put in practice. First, he try'd by Clemency to make himself belov'd even by his very Enemies, contenting himself in detected Con­spiracies, only publickly to declare, that he was pre-acquainted with them; which being done, he took a noble Resolution to expect, without Sollicitude or Fear, whatever might be the Event, wholly resigning up himself to the Protection of the Gods and Fortune: for questionless in this very Estate he was at the time when he was kill'd. A Stranger having publickly said, that he could teach Dionysius, the Tyrant of Syracusa, an infallible way to find out and discover all the Conspiracies his Sub­jects should contrive against him, if he would give him a good Sum of Money for his Pains: Dionysius, hearing of it, caus'd the Man to be brought to him, that he might learn an Art so necessary to his Preservation; and having ask'd him by what Art he might make such Discoveries, the Fellow made Answer, That all the Art he knew, was, That he should [Page 208] give him a Talent, and afterwards boast that he had obtain'd a singular Secret from him. Dionysius lik'd the Invention, and according­ly caus'd six hundred Crowns to be counted out to him. It was not likely he should give so great a Sum to a Person unknown, but upon the account of some extraordinary Discove­ry, the belief of which serv'd to keep his E­nemies in awe. Princes however do very wisely, to publish the Informations they re­ceive of all the Practices against their Lives, to possess men with an opinion they have so good Intelligence, and so many Spies abroad, that nothing can be plotted against them, but they have present notice of it. The Duke of Athens did a great many ridiculous things to establish his new Tyranny over Flo­rence: but this especially was most remar­kable, that having receiv'd the first intima­tion of the Conspiracies the People were hatching against him, by Mattheo di Moroso, one of the Conspirators, he presently put him to death, to suppress that Rumour, that it might not be thought any of the City dis­lik'd his Government. I remember I have formerly read a Story of some Roman of great Quality, who, flying the Tyranny of the Triumvirat, had a thousand times, by the subtilty of as many Inventions, escap'd from falling into the hands of those that pursu'd him. It hap'ned one day, that a Troop of Horse which was sent out to take him, pass'd [Page 209] close by a Brake where he was squat, and miss'd very narrowly of spying him: but he considering, upon the instant, the Pains and Difficulties wherein he had so long continu­ed, to evade the strict and continual Search­es were every day made for him, the little Pleasure he could hope for in such a kind of Life, and how much better it was for him to dye once for all, than to be perpetually at this pass, he start from his Seat himself, call'd them back, shew'd them his Form, and vo­luntarily deliver'd himself up to their Cruel­ty, by that means to free both himself and them from further Trouble. To invite a man's Enemies to come and cut his Throat, was a Resolution that appears a little extra­vagant and odd; and yet I think he did bet­ter to take that course, than to live in a Quo­tidian Ague; and for which there was no Cure. But seeing all the Remedies a Man can apply to such a Disease, are full of Un­quietness, and uncertain, 'tis better with a man­ly Courage to prepare ones self for the worst that can happen, and to extract some Conso­lation from this, That we are not certain the thing we fear will ever come to pass.

CHAP. XXIV. Of Pedantry.

I Was often, when a Boy, wonderfully con­cern'd to see in the Italian Farces, a Pe­dant alwayes brought in for the Fool of the Play, and that the Title of Magister was in no greater Reverence amongst us: for being deliver'd up to their Tuition, what could I do less than be jealous of their Honour and Reputation? I sought, I confess, to excuse them by the natural incompatibility betwixt the Vulgar sort, and men of a finer thread, both in Judgment and Knowledge, for as much as they go a quite contrary way to one another: But in this, the thing I most stum­bled at was, that the bravest men were those who most despis'd them; witness our fa­mous Poet du Bellay,

And they us'd to do so in former times; for Plutarch says, that Graecian, and Scholar, were names of reproach and contempt amongst the Romans. But since, with the better experi­ence of Age, I find they had very great rea­son [Page 211] so to do, and that magis magnos Clericos, Rabelais▪ non sunt magis magnos sapientes. The greatest Clerks are not the wisest men. But whence it should come to pass, that a Mind enrich'd with the knowledge of so many things, should not become more quick and spritely, and that a gross and vulgar understanding should yet inhabit there, without correcting and improving it self, where all the Discour­ses, and Judgments of the greatest Wits the World ever had, are collected, and stor'd up, I am yet to seek. To admit so many strange Conceptions, so great and so high Fancies, it is necessary, (as a young Lady, and one of the greatest Princesses of the Kingdom, said to me once) that a man's own be crowd­ed, and squeez'd together into a less compass, to make room for the other. I should be apt to conclude, that as Plants are suffocated, and drown'd with too much nourishment, and Lamps with too much Oyl, so is the active part of the Understanding with too much study and Matter, which being em­barass'd, and confounded with the diversity of things, is depriv'd of the Force and Pow­er to disengage it self; and that by the pres­sure of this weight, it is bow'd, subjected, and rendred of no use. But it is quite otherwise, for a Soul stretches and dilates it self propor­tionably as it fills. And in the Examples [...] elder times, we see quite contrary, men v [...]ry proper for publick Business, great Cap­tains, [Page 210] [...] [Page 211] [...] [Page 212] and great States-men, very Learned withall; whereas the Philosophers, a sort of men retir'd from all Publick Affairs, have been sometimes also despis'd, and render'd contemptible by the Comical liberty of their own Times; their Opinions, and singulari­ty of Manners, making them appear to men of another method of living, ridiculous and absurd. Would you make them Judges of a Controversie of common Right, or of the Actions of Men? they are ready to take it upon them, and straight begin to examine, if he has Life, if he has Motion, if Man be any other than an Oxe? What it is to do, and to suffer? and what Animals Law and Justice are? Do they speak of the Magi­strates, 'tis with a rude, irreverent, and in­decent liberty. Do they hear a Prince, or a King commended for his Vertue, they make no more of him, than of a Shepheard, Goat-heard, or Neat-heard; a lazy Coridon, that busies himself only about milking, and shear­ing his Herds and Flocks, and that after the rudest manner. Do you repute any man the greater for being Lord of two thousand A­cres of Land? they laugh at such a pitiful Pittance, as laying claim themselves to the whole World for their possession. Do you boast of your Nobility and Blood, for be­ing descended from seven rich successive An­cestors? they will look upon you with an eye of Contempt, as men who have not a [Page 213] right Idea of the Universal Image of Na­ture, and that do not consider how ma­my Predecessors every one of us has had, Rich, Poor, Kings, Slaves, Greeks, and Bar­barians. And though you were the fifti­eth descent from Hercules, they look up­on it as a great vanity, so highly to va­lue this, which is only a gift of Fortune. And even so did the Vulgar sort of men nau­seate them, as men ignorant of the begin­ning of things, where all things were com­mon, accusing them of Presumption and In­solence. But this Platonick Picture is far different from that these Pedants are pre­sented by: For those were envied for rai­sing themselves above the common sort of men, for despising the ordinary Actions and Offices of Life, for having assum'd a parti­cular and inimitable way of living, and for using a certain Method of Bumbaste and obsolete Language, quite different from the ordinary way of speaking: but these are contemn'd for being as much below the usu­al form, as incapable of Publick Employ­ment, for leading a Life, and conforming themselves to the mean and vile manners of the Vulgar. Odi homines ignava opera, Phi­losopha Sententia. Peccuvius. I hate men who talk like Philosophers, but do worse than the most slothful of men. For what concerns those true Philosophers, I must needs say, that if they were great in Science, they were yet much [Page 214] greater in Action. And, as it is said of the Geometrician of Syracusa, Archime­des. who having been disturb'd from his Contemplation, to put some of his Skill in Practice for the Defence of his Country, that he suddenly set on foot dreadful and prodigious Engines, and that wrought Effects beyond all humane expectati­on; himself notwithstanding disdain'd his own handy-work, thinking in this he had play'd the Mechanick, and violated the Dignity of his Art, of which these Performances of his, (though so highly cry'd up by the Publick Voice) he accounted but trivial Experiments, and inferiour Models: so they, whenever they have been put upon the Proof of Acti­on, have been seen to fly to so high a Pitch, as made it very well appear, their Souls were strangely elevated, and enrich'd with the Knowledge of Things. But some of them, seeing the Reins of Government in the hands of ignorant and unskilful Men, have avoided all Places and Interest in the Management of Affairs; and he who demanded of Crates, How long it was necessary to Philosophize, receiv'd this Answer, Till our Armies (said he) are no more commanded by Fools and Coxcombs. Heraclitus resign'd the Royalty to his Brother, and to the Ephesians, who reproach'd him that he spent his time in play­ing with Boys before the Temple; Is it not better, said he, to do so, than to sit at the Helm of Affairs in your Company? Others having [Page 215] their Imagination advanc'd above the thoughts of the World and Fortune, have look'd up­on the Tribunals of Justice, and even the Thrones of Kings, with an Eye of Contempt and Scorn; insomuch, that Empedocles refus'd the Royalty that the Agrigentines offer'd to him. Thales, once inveighing in Discourse against the Pains and Care Men put them­selves to, to become rich; was answer'd by one in the Company, that he did like the Fox, who found fault with what he could not obtain. Whereupon, he had a mind, for the Jest's sake, to shew them to the contrary; and having upon this Occasion for once made a muster of all his Wits, wholly to employ them in the Service of Profit, he set a Traf­fick on foot, which in one Year brought him in so great Riches, that the most experienc'd in that Trade could hardly in their whole Lives, with all their Industry, have rak'd so much together. That which Aristotle reports of some who said of him, Anaxagoras, and others of their Profession, that they were wise but not prudent, in not applying their Study to more profitable things (though I do not well digest this nice Distinction) that will not however serve to excuse my Pedan­tick sort of Men, for to see the low and ne­cessitous Fortune wherewith they are con­tent, we have rather Reason to pronounce that they are neither wise, nor prudent. But letting this first Reason alone, I think it bet­ter [Page 216] to say, that this Inconvenience proceeds from their applying themselves the wrong way to the Study of Sciences; and that after the manner we are instructed, it is no won­der if neither the Scholars nor the Masters be­come, though more learned, ever the wiser, or more fit for Business. In plain Truth, the Cares and Expence our Parents are at in our Education▪ point at nothing, but to furnish our Heads with Knowledge; but not a Word of Judgment and Vertue. Cry out of one that passes by, to the Peo­ple, O, what a Learned! and of another, O, what a good man goes there! they will not fail to turn their Eyes, and address their Respect to the former. There should then be a third Cryer, O the Puppies and Coxcombs! Men are apt presently to en­quire, Does such a one understand Greek? Is he a Critick in Latine? Is he a Poet? or does he only pretend to Prose? But whe­ther he be grown better or more discreet, which are Qualities of greater Value and Concern, those are never enquir'd into; whereas, we should rather examine, who is better learned, than who is more learned. We only toyl and labour to stuff the Memory, and in the mean time leave the Conscience and the Understanding unfur­nish'd and void. And, like Birds who fly abroad to forrage for Grain, bring it home in the Beak, without tasting it them­selves, [Page 217] to feed their Young; so our Pe­dants go picking Knowledge here and there, out of several Authors, and hold it at the Tongues end, only to spit it out, and distribute it amongst their Pupils. And here I cannot but smile to think how I have paid my self in shewing the Foppery of this kind of Learning, who my self am so manifest an Example; for, do I not the same thing throughout almost this whole Treatise? I go here and there, cul­ling out of several Books the Sentences that best please me, not to keep them (for I have no Memory to retain them in) but to transplant them into this; where, to say the Truth, they are no more mine than in their first Places. We are, I con­ceive, knowing only in present Knowledge, and not at all in what is past, no more than in that which is to come. But the worst on't is, their Scholars and Pupils are no better nourish'd by this kind of Inspiration, nor it makes no deeper Impression upon them, than the other, but passes from hand to hand, only to make a shew, to be tolerable Company, and to tell pretty Stories, like a counterfeit Coyn in Counters, of no other use nor value, but to reckon with, or to set up at Cards. Apud alios loqui didicerunt, non ipsi secum. Seneca Epist. 105. Non est loquendum, sed gubernandum; They have learn'd to speak from others, not from themselves. Speaking is not so necessary as Go­verning. [Page 218] Nature, to shew that there is no­thing barbarous where she has the sole Com­mand, does oftentimes, in Nations where Art has the least to do, cause productions of Wit, such as may rival the greatest Effects of Art whatever. As in relation to what I am now speaking of, the Gascon Proverb, deriv'd from a Corn-pipe, is very quaint and subtle. Bouha prou bouha, mas a remuda lous dits qu'em. You may blow till your Eyes start out; but if once you offer to stir your Fin­gers, you will be at the end of your Lesson. We can say, Cicero says thus; that these were the Manners of Plato, and that these are the very Words of Aristotle: but what do we say our selves that is our own? What do we do? What do we judge? A Parrot would say as much as that. And this kind of Talk­ing puts me in mind of that rich Gentleman of Rome, who had been sollicitous, with ve­ry great Expence, to procure men that were excellent in all sorts of Science, which he had always attending his Person, to the end, that when amongst his Friends any Occasion fell out of speaking of any Subject whatsoever, they might supply his Place, and be ready to prompt him, one with a Sentence of Seneca, another with a Verse of Homer, and so forth, every one according to his Talent; and he fancied this Knowledge to be his own, because in the Heads of those who liv'd upon his Bounty. As they also do whose Learning con­sists [Page 219] in having noble Libraries. I know one, who, when I question him about his Reading, he presently calls for a Book to shew me, and dare not venture to tell me so much, as that he has Piles in his Posteriours, till first he has consulted his Dictionary, what Piles and what Posteriours are. We take other Mens Knowledge and Opinions upon Trust; which is an idle and superficial Learning: we must make it our own. We are in this very like him, who having need of Fire, went to a Neighbours House to fetch it, and find­ing a very good one there, fate down to warm himself without remembring to carry any with him home. What good does it do us to have the Stomach full of Meat, if it do not digest, and be not incorporated with us, if it does not nourish and support us? Can we imagine that Lucullus, whom Letters, without any manner of Experience made so great and so exact a Leader, learnt to be so after this perfunctory manner? We suffer our selves to lean and relye so over-strongly up­on the Arm of another, that by so doing we prejudice our own Strength and Vigour. Would I fortifie my self against the fear of Death? it must be at the Expence of Seneca: Would I extract Consolation for my self or my Friend? I borrow it from him, or Cicero; whereas I might have found it in my self, had I been train'd up to make use of my own Rea­son. I do not fancy this relative, mendicant, [Page 220] and precarious Understanding; for though we could become learned by other Mens Reading, I am sure a Man can never be wise but by his own Wisdom.

From whence Ennius, Cicero Epist. 6. l. 7. ex Ennio. Nequidquam sapere sapientem, qui ipsi sibi prodesse non quiret; That wise man knows nothing, who can­not profit himself by his Wisdom.Cicero de Fini. l. 1. Non enim paranda nobis solum, sed fruenda sapi­entia est; For Wisdom is not only to be acquir'd, but enjoy'd. Dionysius laught at the Grammarians, who cudgell'd their Brains to enquire into the Miseries of Vlysses, and were ignorant of their own; at Musicians, who were so exact in tuning their Instru­ments, and never tun'd their Manners; and at Orators, who studied to declare what was Justice, but never took care to do it. If the Mind be not better dispos'd, if the Judgment be no better settled, I had much rather my Scholar had spent his time at Tennis, for at least his Body would by that means be in bet­ter Exercise and Breath. Do but observe him when he comes back from School, after fifteen or sixteen Years that he has been there, there [Page 221] is nothing so aukward and maladroit, so un­fit for Company or Employment; and all that you shall find he has got, is, that his La­tine and Greek have only made him a greater and more conceited Coxcomb than when he went from home. He should bring his Soul repleat with good Literature, and he brings it only swell'd, and puff'd up with vain and empty Shreds and Snatches of Learning, and has really nothing more in him than he had before. These Pedants of ours, as Plato says of the Sophists, their Cousin-Germans, are, of all Men living, they who most pretend to be useful to Mankind, and who alone, of all Men, not only do not better and improve that is committed to them, as a Carpenter or a Mason would do, but make them much worse, and make them pay for be­ing made so to boot. If the Rule which Protagoras propos'd to his Pupils were follow­ed, either that they should give him his own Demand, or make Affidavit upon Oath in the Temple how much they valued the Pro­fit they had receiv'd under his Tuition, and accordingly satisfie him, our Pedagogues would find themselves basely gravell'd, especially if they were to be judg'd by the Testimony of my Experience. Our vulgar Perigordin Patois does pleasantly call them Pretenders to Learning, Lettre-ferits, as a Man should say, Let­ter-mark'd; a man on whom Letters have been stamp'd by the Blow of a Mallet; and in [Page 222] truth, for the most part, they appear to have a soft place in their Skuls, and to be depriv'd even of common Sense. For you see the Hus­bandman, and the Cobler, go simply and ho­nestly about their Business, speaking only of what they know and understand; where­as these Fellows, to make parade, and to get opinion, mustering this ridiculous know­ledge of theirs, that swims and floats in the Superficies of the Brain, are perpetually perplexing and entangling themselves in their own Nonsence. They speak fine words sometimes, 'tis true, but let some body that is wiser apply them. They are wonderfully well acquainted with Galen, but not at all with the Disease of the Patient; they have already deaf'd you with a long ribble-row of Laws, but understand nothing of the case in hand; They have the Theories of all things, let who will put it in practice. I have sate by, when a Friend of mine, in my own House, for sport sake, has with one of these Fellows counterfeited a canting Galimatias, patcht up of several Expressions without head or foot, saving that he now and then inter­larded here and there some terms that had relation to their Dispute, and held the Cox­comb in play a whole Afternoon together, who all the while thought he had answer'd pertinently, and learnedly to all his Obje­ctions. And yet this was a man of Letters, [Page 223] and Reputation, and no worse than one of the long Robe.

Whosoever shall narrowly pry into, and thoroughly sift this sort of People, wherewith the World is so pestered, will, as I have done, find, that for the most part, they neither un­derstand others, nor themselves; and that their Memories are full enough, 'tis true, but the Judgment totally void and empty; some excepted, whose own Nature has of it self form'd them into better fashion.Testimo­ny of Adri­anus Tur­nebus. As I have observ'd for Example in Adrianus Turnebus, who having never made other profession, than that of mere Learning only, and in that, in my opinion, the greatest man that has been these thousand years, had nothing at all in him of the Pedant, but the wearing of his Gown, and a little exteriour fashion, that could not be civiliz'd to the Garb, which are nothing; and I hate our People, who can worse endure a Pedantick Mode, than an ill contriv'd Mind, and take their mea­sures [Page 224] by the Leg a man makes, by his beha­viour, and so much as the very fashion of his Boots, what a kind of man he is. For within all this, there was not a more illu­strious and polite Soul living upon Earth. I have often purposely put him upon Argu­ments quite wide of his Profession, wherein I found he had so clear an insight, so quick an apprehension, and so solid a judgment: that a man would have thought he had ne­ver practis'd any other thing but Arms, and been all his life employ'd in Affairs of State. And these are great and vigorous Natures,

that can keep themselves upright in defiance of a Pedantick Education. But it is not e­nough that our Education does not spoil us; it must moreover alter us for the better. Some of our Parlaments, when they are to admit Officers, examine onely their Talent of Learning; to which some of the others also add the tryal of Understanding, by ask­ing their Judgment of some Case in Law, of which the latter methinks proceed with the better Method: for although both are neces­sary, [Page 225] and that it is very requisite they should be defective in neither, yet, in truth, Know­ledge is not so absolutely necessary as Judg­ment, and the last may make shift without the other, but the other never without this. For as the Greek Verse says,

To what Use serves Learning, if the Under­standing be away? Would to God, that, for the good of our Judicature, those Societies were as well furnish'd with Understanding and Conscience, as they are with Knowledge. Non Vitae, sed Scolae discimus;Sen. Epist. 106. We do not study for the service of our future Life, but only for the present use of the School. Whereas we are not to tye Learning to the Soul, but to work and incorporate them together; not to tincture it only, but to give it a thorough and perfect die; which, if it will not take co­lour, and meliorate its imperfect state, it were without question better to let it alone 'Tis a dangerous weapon, and that will endanger to wound its master, if put into an aukward, and unskilful hand: Vt fuerit melius non didicisse. So that it were better never to have learn'd at all. And this peradventure is the reason, why neither we, nor indeed Chri­stian [Page 226] Religion, require much Learning in Women; and that Francis Duke of Brittany, Son of John the Fifth (one being talking with him about his Marriage with Isabelle the Daughter of Scotland, and adding that she was homely bred, and without any man­ner of Learning) made answer, That he lik'd her the better, and that a Woman was wise enough, if she could distinguish her Hus­band's Shirt and his Doublet. So that it is no so great wonder, as they make of it, that our Ancestors had Letters in no greater E­steem, and that even to this day, they are but rarely met with in the Privy Councils of Princes; and if this End and Design of acqui­ring Riches (which is the onely thing we propose to our selves, by the means of Law, Physick, Pedantry, and even Divinity it self) did not uphold, and keep them in credit, you would without doubt see them as poor and unregarded as ever. And what loss would it be, if they neither instruct us to think well, nor to do well? Postquam docti prodierunt, boni desunt; After once they become Learn­ed, they cease to be good. All other know­ledge is hurtful to him, who has not the Sci­ence of Honesty and good Nature. But the reason I glanc'd upon but now, may it not also proceed from hence, that our Study, ha­ving almost no other Aim but Profit, fewer of those, who by Nature are born to Offices and Employments, rather of Glory than [Page 227] Gain, addict themselves to Letters; or for so little a while (being taken from their Studies before they can come to have any taste of them, to a Profession that has nothing to do with Books) that there ordinarily re­main no other to apply themselves wholly to Learning, but People of mean Condition, who in that only study to live, and have Preferment only in their Prospect; and by such People, whose Souls are both by Na­ture, and Education, and domestick Exam­ple, of the basest Metal and Allay, the Fruits of Knowledge are both immaturely gather­ed, ill-digested, and deliver'd to their Pupils quite another thing. For it is not for Know­ledge to enlighten a Soul that is dark of it self; nor to make a blind man to see. Her Business is not to find a man Eyes, but to guide, govern, and direct his steps, provided he have found Feet, and strait Legs to go upon. Knowledge is an excellent Drug, but no Drug has vertue enough to preserve it self from Corruption and Decay, if the Vessel be tainted and impure wherein it is put to keep. Such a one may have a Sight clear and good enough, who looks a squint, and consequently sees what is good, but does not follow it, and sees Knowledge, but makes no use of it. Plato's principal Institu­tion in his Republick is, to fit his Citizens with Employments suitable to their Nature. [Page 228] Nature can do all, and does all. Cripples are very unfit for Exercises of the Body, and lame Souls for Exercises of the Mind. Dege­nerate and vulgar Souls are unworthy of Philosophy. If we see a Shooe-maker with his Shooes out at the Toes, we say, 'tis no wonder; for, commonly, none go worse shod than their Wives and they. In like manner, Experience does often present us a Physician worse physick'd, a Divine worse reform'd, and frequently, a Scholar of less Sufficiency than another. Aristo of Chios had anciently Reason to say, That Philoso­phers did their Auditories harm, forasmuch as most of the Souls of those that heard them were not capable of making benefit of their Instructions, and if they did not apply them to good, would certainly apply them to ill:Cicero de Natu. Deor. l. 3. [...] ex Aristippi, acerbos ex Zenonis Schola exire. They proceeded effeminate Prodigals from the School of Aristippus, and Churles and Cynicks from that of Zeno. In that excellent Institution that Xenophon attributes to the Persians, we find, that they taught their Children Vertue, as o­ther Nations do Letters. Plato tells us, that the eldest Son in their Royal Suc­cession, was thus brought up; So soon as he was born he was deliver'd, not to Wo­men, but to Eunuchs of the greatest Au­thority about their Kings for their Vertue, [Page 229] whose Charge it was to keep his Body health­ful, and in good plight; and after he came to seven Years of Age, to teach him to ride, and to go a Hunting: when he arriv'd at fourteen he was transferr'd into the hands of four, the wisest, the most just, the most tem­perate, and most valiant of the Nation; of which, the first was to instruct him in Reli­gion, the second to be always upright and sincere, the third to conquer his Appetites and Desires, and the fourth to despise all Danger. 'Tis a thing worthy of very great Consideration, that in that excellent, and, in truth, for its Perfection, prodigious form, and civil Regiment set down by Lycurgus, though so sollicitous of the Education of Children, as a thing of the greatest Concern, and even in the very Seat of the Muses, he should make so little mention of Learning; as if their generous Youth, disdaining all other Subje­ction, but that of Vertue only, ought to be supply'd, instead of Tutors to read to them Arts and Sciences, with such Masters, as should only instruct them in Valour, Pru­dence, and Justice. An Example that Plato has followed in his Laws; the manner of whose Discipline was to propound to them Questions upon the Judgments of Men, and of their Actions; and if they commended or condemned this or that Person, or Fact, they were to give a Reason for so doing; by which means they at once sharp'ned their Un­derstanding, [Page 230] and became skillful in the Laws. Mandane, in Xenophon, asking her Son Cyrus how he would do to learn Justice, and the other Vertues amongst the Medes, having left all his Masters behind him in Persia? He made Answer, That he had learn'd those things long since; that his Master had often made him a Judge of the Differences amongst his School-Fellows, and had one day whip'd him for giving a wrong Sentence; and thus it was, A great Boy in the School, having a little short Cassock, by force took a longer from another that was not so tall as he, and gave him his own in exchange: whereupon, I being appointed Judge of the Controversie, gave Judgment, That I thought it best either of them should keep the Coat he had, for that they both of them were better fitted with that of one another than with their own: up­on which, my Master told me, I had done ill, in that I had only consider'd the Fitness and Decency of the Garments, whereas I ought to have consider'd the Justice of the thing, which requires that no one should have any thing forcibly taken from him that is his own. But it seems poor Cyrus was whip'd for his Pains, as we are in our Villages, for forget­ting the first Aoriste of [...]: my Pedant must make me a very learned Oration, in genere demonstrativo, before he can perswade me, that his School is like unto that. They knew how to go the readiest way to work; [Page 231] and seeing that Science, when most rightly apply'd, and best understood, can do no more but teach us Prudence, moral Honesty, and Resolution, they thought fit to initiate their Children with the knowledge of Effects, and to instruct them, not by Hear-say, and by Rote, but by the Experiment of Action, in lively forming and moulding them; not on­ly by Words and Precepts, but chiefly Works and Examples; to the end it might not be a Knowledge of the Mind only, but a Comple­xion and a Habit: and not an Acquisition, but a natural Possession. One asking to this Purpose, Agesilaus, what he thought most proper for Boys to learn? What they ought to do when they come to be Men, said he. It is therefore no wonder, if such an Institu­tion have produc'd so admirable Effects. They us'd to go, 'tis said, in the other Cities of Greece, to enquire out Rhetoricians, Paint­ers, and Musick-Masters; but in Lacedaemon, Legislators, Magistrates, and Generals of Ar­mies; at Athens they learnt to speak well, and here to do well; there to disengage themselves from a Sophistical Argument, and to unravel Syllogisms, here to evade the Baits and Allurements of Pleasure, and with a noble Courage and Resolution to confute and conquer the menaces of Fortune and Death; those cudgell'd their Brains about Words, these made it their Business to en­quire into things; there was an eternal Bab­ble [Page 232] of the Tongue, here a continual Exercise of the Soul. And therefore it is nothing strange, if, when Antipater demanded of them fifty Children for Hostages, they made An­swer, quite contrary to what we should do, That they would rather give him twice as many full grown Men, so much did they value the loss of their Country's Education. When Agesilaus courted Xenophon to send his Children to Sparta to be bred, it is not, said he, there to learn Logick or Rhetorick, but to be instructed in the noblest of all Sci­ences, namely, the Science to Obey, and to Command. It is very pleasant to see Socra­tes, after his manner, rallying Hippias, who recounts to him what a World of Mo­ney he has got, especially in certain little Villages of Sicily, by teaching School, and that he got never a Penny at Sparta. What a sottish and stupid People (says Socrates) are they, without Sense or Understanding, that make no Account either of Grammars, or Poetry, and only busie themselves in studying the Genealogies and Successions of their Kings, the Foundations, Rises, and Declensions of States, and such Tales of a Tub! After which, having made Hippias particularly to acknowledge the Excellen­cy of their Form of Publick Administra­tion, and the Felicity and Vertue of their Private Life, he leaves him to guess at the [Page 233] Conclusion he makes of the Inutilit [...]s of his Pedantick Arts. Examples have demon­strated to us, that in Military Affairs, and all others of the like Active Nature, the Study of Sciences does more soften and untemper the Courages of Men, than any way fortifie and invite them. The most Potent Empire, that at this Day appears to be in the whole World, is that of the Turks, a People equally inclin'd to the Estimation of Arms, and the Contempt of Letters. I find, Rome was more Valiant be­fore she grew so Learned; and the most Warlike Nations at this time in Being, are the most ignorant: of which, the Scythians, Parthians, and the great Tamerlane, may serve for sufficient Proof. When the Goths over-ran Greece, the only thing that preser­ved all the Libraries from the Fire, was, that some one possess'd them with an Opi­nion, that they were to leave this kind of Furniture entire to the Enemy, as be­ing most proper to divert them from the Exercise of Arms, and to fix them to a lazy and sedentary Life. When our King Charles the Eighth, almost without striking a Blow, saw himself possess'd of the Kingdom of Na­ples, and a considerable part of Tuscany, the Nobility about him attributed this unexpect­ed Facility of Conquest to this, that the Prin­ces and Nobles of Italy, more studied to ren­der [Page 234] themselves ingenious and learned, than vigorous and warlike.

CHAP. XXV. Of the Education of Children. To Madam Diana of Foix, Countess of Gurson.

I Never yet saw that Father, but let his Son be never so decrepid, or deform'd, would not notwithstanding own him: not never­theless, if he were not totally besotted, and blinded with this Paternal Affection, that he did not well enough discern his Defects: but that all Defaults notwithstanding, he is still his. Just so do I, I see better than any other, that all I write are but the idle Whimsies of a man that has only nibbled upon the out­ward Crust of Sciences in his Nonage, and only retain'd a general and formless Image of them, who have got a little snatch of eve­ry thing, and nothing of the whole a la mode de France: For I know in general, that there is such a thing as Physick, a know­ledge in the Laws, four Parts in Mathema­ticks, and, in part, what all these aim and point at; and peradventure I yet know far­ther, what Sciences in general pretend unto, in order to the Service of Humane Life: but to dive farther than that, and to have [Page 235] cudgell'd my Brains in the study of Aristotle, the Monarch of all Modern Learning; or particularly addicted my self to any one Sci­ence, I have never done it; neither is there any one Art of which I am able to draw the first Lineaments and dead colour; insomuch that there is not a Boy of the lowest Form in a School, that may not pretend to be wi­ser than I, who am not able to pose him in his first Lesson, which if I am at any time forc'd upon, I am necessitated in my own defence, to ask him some Universal Questi­ons, such as may serve to try his natural Un­derstanding; a Lesson as strange and un­known to him, as his is to me. I never se­riously settled my self to the reading any Book of solid Learning, but Plutarch and Seneca; and there, like the Danaides, I eter­nally fill, and it as constantly runs out; something of which drops upon this Paper, but very little or nothing stayes behind. Hi­story is my delight, as to matter of Reading, or else Poetry, for which I have, I confess, a particular kindness and esteem: for, as Cle­anthes said, as the Voice, forc'd through the narrow passage of a Trumpet, comes out more forcible and shrill; so, methinks, a Sentence couch'd in the Harmony of Verse, darts more briskly upon the Understanding, and strikes both my Ear and Apprehension with a smart­er, and more pleasing Power. As to the Na­tural Parts I have, of which this is the Essay, [Page 236] I find them to bow under the burthen; my Fancy and Judgment do but grope in the dark, trip and stumble in their way, and when I have gone as far as I can, I discover still a new and greater extent of Land before me, but with a troubled and imperfect sight, and wrapt up in Clouds, that I am not able to penetrate. And taking upon me to write indifferently of whatever comes into my Head, and therein making use of nothing but my own proper and natural Force and Ammunition, if it befell me, as oft-times it does, accidentally to meet in any good Author, the same Heads and Common-pla­ces upon which I have attempted to write, (as I did but a little before in Plutarch's Discourse of the Force of Imagination) to see my self so weak and so forlorn, so heavy, and so flat, in comparison of those better Writers, I at once pity and despise my self. Yet do I flatter, and please my self with this, that my Opinions have often the honour and good fortune to jump with theirs, and that I follow in the same Path, though at a very great distance; I am farther satisfied to find, that I have a Quality, which every one is not blest with­all, which is, to discern the vast difference betwixt them and me; and notwithstanding all that, suffer my own Inventions, low, and contemptible as they are, to run on in their [Page 237] Career, without mending or plaistering up the Defects that this Comparison has laid open to my own View; and in plain Truth, a Man had need of a good strong Back to keep Pace with these People. The indis­creet Scriblers of our Times, who, amongst their laborious Nothings, insert whole Se­ctions, Paragraphs, and Pages, out of anci­ent Authors, with a Design by that means to illustrate their own Writings, do quite con­trary; for this infinite Dissimilitude of Or­naments renders the Complexion of their own Compositions, so pale, sallow, and de­form'd, that they lose much more than they get. The Philosophers, Chrysippus and Epi­curus, were, in this, of two quite contrary Humours; for the first did not only in his Books mix the Passages and Sayings of other Authors, but entire Pieces, and in one the whole Medea of Euripides; which gave Apollodorus occasion to say, That should a Man pick out of his Writings all that was none of his, he would leave him nothing but blank Paper: whereas the latter, quite contrary, in three hundred Volumes that he left behind him, has not so much as any one Quotation. I hapned the other day upon this Piece of Fortune; I was reading a French Book, where after I had a long time run dreaming over a great many Words, so dull, so insipid, so void of all Wit, or common Sence, that indeed they [Page 238] were only words; after a long and tedious travel, I came at last to meet with a piece that was lofty, rich, and elevated to the very Clouds: of which, had I found either the Declivity easie, or the Ascent accessible, there had been some excuse; but it was so perpen­dicular a Precipice, and so wholly cut off from the rest of the Work, that by the six first words I found my self flying into the other World, and from thence discover'd the Vale from whence I came so deep and low, that I had never since the Heart to descend into it any more. If I should set out my Dis­courses with such rich Spoils as these, the Plagiary would be too manifest in his own Defects, and I should too much discover the imperfection of my own Writing. To repre­hend the fault in others, that I am guilty of my self, appears to me no more unreasonable, than to condemn, as I often do, those of o­thers in my self. They are to be every where reprov'd, and ought to have no Sanctuary allow'd them. I know very well how impru­dently I my self at every turn attempt to e­qual my self to my thefts, and to make my style go hand in hand with them, not with­out a temerarious hopes of deceiving the eyes of my Reader from discerning the difference; but withall, it is as much by the benefit of my Application, that I hope to do it, as by that of my Invention, or any Force of my own. Besides, I do not offer to contend with [Page 239] the whole Body of these Champions, nor hand to hand to any one of them, 'tis only by slights and little light attempts that I en­gage them; I do not grapple with them, but try their strength only, and never engage so far as I make a shew to do; and if I could hold them in play, I were a brave Fellow; for I never attaque them, but where they are most sinewy and strong. To cover a man's self (as I have seen some do) with another man's Arms, so as not to discover so much as their fingers ends; to carry on a Design (as it is not hard for a Man that has any thing of a Scholar in him, in an ordinary Subject to do) under old Inventions, patcht up here and there with his own Trumpery, and then to endeavour to conceal the theft, and to make it pass for his own, is first injustice, and meanness of Spirit in whoever do it, who having nothing in them of their own fit to procure them a Reputation, endeavour to do it by attempting to impose things upon the World in their own Name, which they have really no manner of title to; and then a ridiculous Folly to content themselves with acquiring the ignorant approbation of the Vulgar by such a pitiful Cheat, at the price at the same time of discovering their insuffi­ciency to men of Understanding, who will soon smell out and trace them in those bor­row'd Allegories, and from whom alone they are to expect a legitimate Applause. For my [Page 240] own part, there is nothing I would not soon­er do than that, neither have I said so much of others, but to get a better Opportunity to excuse my self: neither in this do I in the least glance at the Composers of Canto's, who declare themselves for such; of which sort of Writers, I have in my time known many very ingenious, and have their Rhap­sodies in very great Esteem, and particularly one, under the Name of Capilulus, besides the Ancients. These are really Men of Wit, and that make it appear they are so, both by that and other ways of Writing; as for Example, Lipsius, in that learned and laborious Con­texture of his Politicks. But, be it how it will, and how inconsiderable soever these Essays of mine may be, I will ingeniously confess, I never intended to conceal them, no more than my old bald grizled Picture before them, where the Graver has not pre­sented you with a perfect Face, but the Re­semblance of mine. And these also are but my own particular Opinions and Fancies, and I deliver them for no other, but only what I my self believe, and not for what is really to be believ'd. Neither have I any o­ther end in this Writing, but only to disco­ver my self, who also shall peradventure be another thing to morrow, if I chance to meet any Book, or Friend, to convince me in the mean time. I have no Authority to be be­liev'd, neither do I desire it, being too con­scious [Page 241] of my own inerudition to be able to instruct others.

A Friend of mine then having read the precedent Chapter, the other day told me, that I should a little longer have insisted up­on the Education of Children; and farther have extended my Discourse upon so necessa­ry a point: which, how fit I am to do, let my Friends flatter me if they please, I have in the mean time no such Opinion of my own Talent, as to promise my self any very good success from my endeavour; but (Madam) if I had any sufficiency in this Subject, I could not possibly better employ it, than to present my best Instructions to the little Gentleman that threatens you short­ly with a happy Birth; (for you are too ge­nerous to begin otherwise than with a male) for having had so great a hand in the treaty of your Marriage, I have a certain particu­lar right and interest in the greatness and prosperity of the Issue that shall spring from it; besides that, your having had the best of my Services so long in possession, does sufficiently oblige me to desire the Honour and Advantage of all wherein you shall be concerned. But, in truth, all I under­stand as to that particular is only this, that the greatest and most important difficulty of Humane Science is the Education of Children. For as in Agriculture, the Hus­bandry that is to precede Planting, as also [Page 242] planting it self, is certain, plain, easie, and very well known; but after that which is planted comes to take root, to spread, and shoot up, there is a great deal more to be done, more Art to be us'd, more care to be taken, and much more difficulty to cultivate and bring them to Perfection: so it is with Men; it is no hard matter to get Children; but after they are born, then begins the Trouble, Sollicitude, and Care, vertuously to train, Principle, and bring them up. The Symptoms of their Inclinations in that young and tender Age are so obscure, and the Pro­mises so uncertain and fallacious, that it is very hard to establish any solid Judgment or Conjecture upon them. As Simon, for Ex­ample, and Themistocles, and a thousand others, who have very much deceiv'd the little Expectation the World had of them: Cubs of Bears, and Bitches Puppies, do tru­ly and indeed discover their natural Incli­nation; but Men, so soon as ever grown up, immediately applying themselves to certain Habits, engaging themselves in certain Opi­nions, and conforming themselves to parti­cular Laws and Customs, do easily alter, or at least disguise, their true and real Disposi­tion. And yet it is hard to force the Pro­pension of Nature; whence it comes to pass, that for not having chosen the right Course, a Man often takes very great Pains, and con­sumes [Page 243] a good part of his Age in training up Children to things, for which, by their na­tural Aversion, they are totally unfit. In this Difficulty, nevertheless, I am clearly of Opinion, that they ought to be elemented in the best and most advantageous Studies, without taking too much notice of, or being too superstitious in those light Prognosticks they give of themselves in their tender Years; to which Plato, in his Republick, gives, methinks, too much Authority. But (Ma­dam) Science is doubtless a very great Orna­ment, and a thing of marvellous use, especi­ally in Persons rais'd to that degree of For­tune you are; and in truth, in Persons of mean and low Condition, cannot perform its true and genuine Office, being naturally more prompt to assist in the Conduct of War, in the Government of Armies and Provinces, and in negotiating the Leagues and Friend­ships of Princes and foreign Nations, than in forming a Syllogism in Logick, in pleading a Process in Law, or in prescribing a Dose of Pills in Physick. Wherefore, Madam, be­lieving you will not omit this so necessary Embelishment in the Education of your Po­sterity, who your self have tasted the Fruits of it, and of a Learned Extraction (for we yet have the Writings of the ancient Counts of Foix, from whom my Lord, your Hus­band, and your self, are both of you de­scended, [Page 244] and Monsieur de Candale, your Un­cle, does every day oblige the World with others, which will extend the knowledge of this Quality in your Family so many suc­ceeding Ages) I will upon this occasion pre­sume to acquaint your Ladiship with one par­ticular Fancy of my own, contrary to the common Method, which also is all I am able to contribute to your Service in this Affair. The charge of the Tutor or Governour you shall provide for your Son, upon the choice of whom depends the whole Success of his Education, has several other great and consi­derable Parts and Duties requir'd in so im­portant a Trust, besides that of which I am about to speak, which however I shall not mention, as being unable to add any thing of moment to the common Rules, that eve­ry one who is qualified for a Governour is perfect in: and also in this wherein I take upon me to advise, he may follow it so far only as it shall appear rational, and condu­cing to the end at which he does aim and intend.

For a Boy of Quality then, who pre­tends to Letters not upon the account of Profit, (for so mean an Object as that is un­worthy of the grace and favour of the Mu­ses; and moreover, in that a man directs his Service to, and professes to depend upon [Page 245] others) nor so much for outward ornament, as for his own proper and peculiar use, and to furnish and enrich himself within, having ra­ther a Desire to go out an accomplish'd Ca­valier, and a fine Gentleman, than a mere Scholar, and a Learned Man; for such a one, I say, I would also have his Friends sollicitous to find him out a Tutor, who has rather an Elegant than a Learned Head, and both, if such a Person can be found; but however, to prefer his Manners and his Judg­ment before his Reading, and that this Man should pursue the Exercise of his Charge after a new method. 'Tis the Custom of School-masters, to be eternally thundring in their Pupils Ears, as they were pour­ing into a Funnel, whilst their Business is only to repeat what the other have said before: Now I would have a Tutor to correct this Error, and that at the very first, he should, according to the Capa­city he has to deal with, put it to the Test, permitting his Pupil himself to taste and relish things, and of himself to choose and discern them, sometimes opening the way to him, and sometimes making him to break the Ice himself; that is, I would not have him alone to invent and speak, but that he should also hear his Pupil speak in turn. So­crates, and since him Arcesilaus, made first their Scholars speak, and then they spoke to [Page 246] them.Cic. de Nat. Deor. l. 1. Obest plerumque iis qui dicere volunt, authoritas eorum qui docent; The Authority of those who teach, is very oft an impedi­ment to those who desire to learn. It is good to make him, like a young Horse, trot before him, that he may judge of his going, and how much he is to abate of his own Speed, to accommodate himself to the Vigour and Capacity of the other. For want of which due proportion, we spoil all; which also to know how to adjust, and to keep within an exact and due measure, is one of the hardest things I know, and an ef­fect of a judicious and well-temper'd Soul, to know how to condescend to his Puerile Motions, and to govern and direct them. I walk firmer, and more secure up Hill than down, and such as according to our com­mon way of Teaching, undertake, with one and the same Lesson, and the same measure of direction, to instruct several Boyes of so differing and unequal Capacities, are infi­nitely mistaken in their Method; and at this rate 'tis no wonder, if in a multitude of Scho­lars, there are not found above two or three who bring away any good account of their Time and Discipline. Let the Master not only examine him about the Grammatical Construction of the bare words of his Lesson, but of the sense and meaning of them, and let him judge of the Profit he has made, not [Page 247] by the testimony of his Memory, but by that of his Understanding. Let him make him put what he hath learn'd into an hundred seve­ral Forms, and accommodate it to so many several Subjects, to see if he yet rightly com­prehend it, and have made it his own, ta­king instruction by his progress from the In­stitutions of Plato. 'Tis a sign of Crudity and Indigestion to vomit up what we eat in the same condition it was swallow'd down, and the Stomach has not perform'd its office, unless it have altered the form and conditi­on of what was committed to it to concoct: so our minds work only upon trust, being bound and compell'd to follow the Appetite of anothers Fancy, enslav'd and captivated under the Authority of another's Instruction, we have been so subjected to the Tramel, that we have no free, nor natural Pace of our own, our own Vigour and Liberty is extinct and gone. Nunquam tutelae suae fiunt;Sen. Ep. 33. They are ever in Wardship, and never left to their own Tuition. I was privately at Pisa carried to see a very honest man; but so great an Aristotelian, that his most usual The­sis was, That the Touch-stone and Square of all solid Imagination, and of the Truth, was an absolute conformity to Aristotle's Doctrine; and that all besides was nothing but Inanity and Chimaera; for that he had seen all, and said all. A Position, that for having been a [Page 248] little too injuriously, and malitiously inter­preted, brought him first into, and afterwards long kept him in great trouble in the Inqui­sition at Rome. Let him make him examine, and thoroughly sift every thing he reads, and lodge nothing in his Fancy upon simple Au­thority, and upon trust. Aristotle's Principles will then be no more Principles to him, than those of Epicurus and the Stoicks: only let this Diversity of Opinions be propounded to, and laid before him, he will himself choose, if he be able; if not, he will remain in doubt.

For if he embrace the Opinions of Xenophon and Plato, by maintaining them, they will no more be theirs, but become his own. Who fol­lows another, follows nothing, finds nothing, nay, is inquisitive after nothing. Non sumus sub Rege, sibi quisque se vindicet; Let him at least know, that he knows. It will be neces­sary that he imbibe their knowledge, not that he be corrupted with their Precepts; and no matter if he forget where he had his Learning, provided he know how to ap­ply it to his own Use; Truth and Reason are common to every one, and are no more [Page 249] his who spake them first, than his who speaks them after. 'Tis no more according to Pla­to, than according to me, since both he and I equally see and understand them. Bees cull their several Sweets from this Flower, and that Blossom, here and there where they find them, but themselves after make the Ho­ney, which is all, and purely their own, and no more Time and Marjoram: so the se­veral Fragments he borrows from others, he will transform and shuffle together to com­pile a Work that shall be absolutely his own; that is to say, his Judgment, his Instructi­on, Labour, and Study, tend to nothing else but to incline, and make him capable so to do. He is not oblig'd to discover whence he had his Ammunition, but only to produce what he has himself compos'd. Men that live upon Rapine, and borrow­ing, expose their Purchases and Buildings to every ones knowledge and view: but do not proclaim how they came by the Mo­ney. We do not see the Fees and Perquisits belonging to the Function and Offices of a Gentleman of the long Robe; but we see the Noble Alliances wherewith he forti­fies himself and his Family, and the Titles and Honours he has obtain'd for him and his. No man divulges his Revenue; or at least which way it comes in: but every one pub­lishes his Purchaces, and is content the World [Page 250] should know his good Condition. The Advantages of our Study are to become bet­ter and more wise. 'Tis (says Epicharmus) the Understanding that sees and hears, 'tis the Understanding that improves every thing, that orders every thing, and that acts, rules, and reigns: all other Faculties are blind, and deaf, and without Soul; and certainly, we render it timerous and servile, in not allowing it the Liberty and Priviledge to do any thing of it self. Who ever ask'd his Pupil what he thought of Grammar and Rhetorick, or of such and such a Sentence of Cicero? Our Ma­sters dart and stick them full feather'd in our Memories, and there establish them like Oracles, of which the very Letters and Sylla­bles are of the substance of the thing. To know by rote, is no Knowledge, and signi­fies no more but only to retain what one has intrusted to his Memory. That which a man rightly knows and understands, he is the free Disposer of at his own full Liberty, without any regard to the Author from whence he had it, or fumbling over the Leaves of his Book. A mere Bookish Learning is both troublesome and ungraceful; and though it may serve for some kind of Ornament, there is yet no Foundation for any Superstructure to be built upon it,What true Philoso­phy is, ac­cording to Plato. according to the Opini­on of Plato, who says, that Constancy, Faith, and Sincerity, are the true Philosophy, and [Page 251] the other Sciences, that are directed to other ends, to be adulterate and false. I could wish, that Paluel or Pompey, the two famous Dan­cing-Masters of my Time, could have taught us to cut Capers, by only seeing them do it, without stirring from our Places, as these men pretend to inform the Understanding, without ever setting them to work; or that we could learn to Ride, handle a Pike, touch a Lute, or Sing, without the trouble of Pra­ctice, as these attempt to make us Judge, and Speak well, without exercising us in Judging and Speaking. Now in this Initiation of our Studies, and in the Progress of them, what­soever presents it self before us is Book suffi­cient; a Roguy Trick of a Page, a sottish Mistake of a Servant, or a Jest at the Table, are so many new Subjects. And for this ve­ry Reason, Conversation with men is of ve­ry great Use, and Travel into Foreign Coun­tries of singular Advantage; not to bring back (as most of our young Monsieurs do) an Account only of how many Paces Santa Ro­tonda is in Circuit; or of the Richness of Signiora Livia's Attire; or, as some others, how much Nero's Face, in a Statue in such an old Ruine, is longer and broader than that made for him at such another Place: but to be able chiefly to give an Account of the Humours, Manners, Customs, and Laws of those Nations where he has been. And, that [Page 252] we may whet and sharpen our Wits by rub­bing them upon those of others. I would that a Boy should be sent abroad very young (and principally to kill two Birds with one Stone) into those neighb'ring Nations whose Language is most differing from our own, and to which, if it be not form'd betimes, the Tongue will be grown too stiff to bend. And also 'tis the general Opinion of all, that a Child should not be brought up in his Mother's Lap. Mothers are too tender, and their natural Affection is apt to make the most discreet of them all so over-fond, that they can neither find in their Hearts to give them due Cor­rection for the Faults they commit, nor suffer them to be brought up in those Hardships and Hazards they ought to be. They would not endure to see them re­turn all Dust and Sweat from their Exercise,Fondness of Mothers pernicious to Educa­tion. to drink cold Drink when they are hot, nor see them mount an unruly Horse, nor take a Foil in hand against a rude Fencer, or so much as to discharge a Carbine: and yet there is no Remedy; whoever will breed a Boy to be good for any thing when he comes to be a Man, must by no means spare him, even when so young, and must very often transgress the Rules of Phy­ [...]ck:

It is not enough to fortifie his Soul, you are also to make his Sinews strong; for the Soul will be opprest, if not assisted by the Mem­bers, and would have too hard a Task to discharge two Offices alone. I know very well, to my Cost, how much mine groans under the Burthen, for being accommodated with a Body so tender and indisposed, as eternally leans and presses upon her; and of­ten in my Reading perceive, that our Ma­sters, in their Writings, make Examples pass for Magnanimity and Fortitude of Mind, which really is rather Toughness of Skin and Hardness of Bones; for I have seen Men, Women, and Children, naturally born of so hard and insensible a Constitution of Body, that a sound cudgelling has been less to them, than a Flirt with a Finger would have been to me, and that would neither cry out, wince, nor quitch, for a good swinging Beating; and when Wrestlers counterfeit the Philosophers in Patience, 'tis rather Strength of Nerves than Stoutness of Heart. Now to be inur'd to un­dergo Labour, is to be accustomed to endure [Page 254] Grief: Labor callum obducit dolori: Labour supplies Grief with a certain Callus, Cicero Tusc. l. 2. that de­fends it from the Blow. A Boy is to be in­ur'd to the Toil and Vehemency of Exercise, to train him up to the Pain, and suffering of Dislocations, Cholicks, Cauteries, and even Imprisonment, and the Rack it self; for he may come, by Misfortune, to be re­duc'd to the worst of these, which (as this World goes) is sometimes inflicted on the Good, as well as the Bad. As for Proof, in our present Civil War, whoever draws his Sword against the Laws, threatens all honest Men with the Whip and the Halter. And moreover, by living at home, the Au­thority of this Governour, which ought to be sovereign over the Boy he has receiv'd in­to his Charge, is often check'd, interrupted, and hindred by the Presence of Parents; to which may also be added, that the Respect the whole Family pay him, as their Master's Son, and the Knowledge he has of the Estate and Greatness he is Heir to, are, in my Opi­nion, no small Inconveniences in these tender Years. And yet even in this conversing with Men I spoke of but now, I have observ'd this Vice, That instead of gathering Observations from others, we make it our whole Business to lay our selves open to them, and are more concern'd how to expose and set out our own Commodities, than how to increase our Stock [Page 255] by acquiring new. Silence therefore, and Modesty, are very advantageous Qualities in Conversation: and one should therefore train up this Boy to be sparing, and a good Hus­band of his Talent of Understanding, when once acquir'd; and to forbear taking Excep­tions at, or reproving every idle Saying, or ridiculous Story, is spoke or told in his Pre­sence; for it is a Rudeness to controvert eve­ry thing that is not agreeable to our own Pallat. Let him be satisfied with correcting himself, and not seem to condemn every thing in another he would not do himself, nor dis­pute against common Customs. Let him be wise without Arrogancy, without Envy. Let him avoid these vain and uncivil Images of Authority, this childish Ambition of covet­ing to appear better bred, and more accom­plish'd, than he really will by such Carriage discover himself to be, and, as if Opportuni­ties of interrupting and reprehending were not to be omitted, to desire from thence to derive the Reputation of something more than ordinary: for as it becomes none but great Poets to make use of the Poetical License, al­low'd only to those of celebrated Art; it is also intollerable, that any but Men of great and illustrious Souls should be priviledg'd above the Authority of Custom; Si quid So­crates, & Aristippus contra morem, Cic. de Offic. l. 1. & consue­tudinem fecerunt, idem sibi ne arbitratur licere: [Page 256] magnis enim illi, & divinis bonis hanc licen­tiam asseqùebantur. If Socrates and Aristippus have transgress'd the Rules of Custom, let him not imagine that he is licens'd to do the same; for it was by great and sovereign Vertues that they obtain'd this Priviledge. Let him be instructed not to engage in Discourse, or dispute but with a Champion worthy of him, and even there not to make use of all the lit­tle Fallacies and Subtleties that are pat for his Purpose; but only such as may best serve him upon that Occasion. Let him be taught to be curious in the Election and Choice of his Reasons, to abominate Impertinence, and consequently, to affect Brevity; but above all, let him be lesson'd to acquiesce and sub­mit to Truth so soon as ever he shall discover it, whether in his Opponent's Argument, or upon better Consideration of his own; for he shall never be preferr'd to the Chair for a mere clatter of Words and Syllogisms, and is no further engag'd to any Argument what­ever, than as he shall in his own Judgment approve it: nor yet is Arguing a Trade, where the liberty of Recantation, and getting off upon better Thoughts, are to be sold for rea­dy Money. Neque, ut omnia, quae praescripta & imperata sint, Cic. Acad. l. 4. defendat, necessitate ulla cogi­tur: Neither is there any Necessity or Obli­gation upon him at all, that he should de­fend all things that are recommended to, and [Page 257] and enjoyn'd him. If his Governour be of my Humour, he will form his Will to be a very good and Loyal Subject to his Prince, very affectionate to his Person, and very stout in his Quarrel; but withall, he will cool in him the desire of having any other tye to his Service, than merely a Pub­lick Duty; because, besides several other In­conveniences, that are very inconsistent with the honest Liberty every honest man ought to have, a man's Judgment being brib'd and prepossess'd by these particular Obligations and Favours, is either blinded,Depen­dance up­on Prin­ces. and less free to exercise its Function, or shall be blemish'd either with Ingratitude or Indiscretion. A man that is purely a Courtier, can neither have Power nor Wit to speak or think other­wise than favourably and well of a Master, who, amongst so many millions of other Sub­jects, has pickt out him with his own hand to nourish and advance. This Favour, and the Profit flowing from it, must needs, and not without some shew of Reason, corrupt his Understanding, and deprive him of the freedom of speaking: and also we common­ly see these People speak in another kind of Phrase than is ordinarily spoken by others of the same Nation, though what they say in that Courtly Language, is not much to be believ'd in such Cases. Let his Conscience and Vertue be eminently manifest in his speak­ing, [Page 258] and have only Reason for their guide. Make him understand, that to acknowledge the Errour he shall discover in his own Ar­gument, though only found out by himself, is an effect of Judgment and sincerity, which are the principal things he is to seek after. That Obstinacy and Contention are common qualities, most appearing in, and best becom­ing a mean and illiterate Soul. That to re­collect, and to correct himself, and to for­sake an unjust Argument in the height and heat of Dispute, are great, and philosophical Qualities. Let him be advis'd, being in Com­pany, to have his Eye and Ear in every cor­ner of the Room; for I find that the Places of greatest Honour are commonly possest by Men that have least in them, and that the greatest Fortunes are not always accompanied with the ablest Parts. I have been present, when, whilst they at the upper end of the Chamber have been only commending the Beauty of the Arras, or the Flavour of the Wine, many things that have been very finely said, have been lost and thrown away at the lower end of the Table. Let him ex­amine every Mans Talent, a Peasant, a Brick­layer, or a Passenger; a Man may learn something from every one of these in their several Capacities, and something will be pick'd out of their Discourse, whereof some use may be made at one time or another; [Page 259] nay, even the Folly and Impertinence of others will contribute to his Instruction.Observati­on. By ob­serving the Graces and Fashions of all he sees, he will create to himself an Emulation of the good, and a contempt of the bad. Let an honest curiosity be suggested to his Fancy of being inquisitive after every thing, and whatever there is of singular and rare near the Place where he shall reside, let him go and see it; a fine House, a delicate Fountain, an eminent Man, the Place where a Battel has been anciently fought, and the Passages of Caesar and Charlemain.

Let him enquire into the Manners, Revenues, and Alliances of Princes, things in themselves very pleasant to learn, and very useful to know. In this Conversing with Men, I mean, and principally those who only live in the Records of History, he shall by reading those Books,Reading History. converse with those great and hero­ick Souls of former and better Ages. 'Tis an idle and vain Study I confess, to those who make it so, by doing it after a negligent [Page 260] manner, but to those who do it with care and Observation, 'tis a study of inestimable Fruit and value; and the only one, as Plato reports, the Lacedemonians reserv'd to them­selves. What profit shall he not reap as to the Business of Men, by reading the Lives of Plu­tarch? But withall, let my Governour re­member to what end his Instructions are prin­cipally directed, and that he do not so much imprint in his Pupils Memory, the date of the Ruine of Carthage, as the Manners of Han­nibal and Scipio; nor so much where Mar­cellus dy'd, as why it was unworthy of his Duty that he dy'd there. That he do not teach him so much the Narative part, as the Business of History. The reading of which, in my Opinion, is a thing that of all others we apply our selves unto with the most dif­fering, and uncertain Measures. I have read an hundred things in Livie that another has not, or not taken notice of at least, and Plutarch has read an hundred more there than ever I could find, or then peradventure that Author ever Writ. To some it is meerly a Grammar Study, to others the very Anato­my of Philosophy, by which the most se­cret, and abstruse parts of our humane Nature are penetrated into. There are in Plutarch many long Discourses very worthy to be care­fully read and observ'd,Elegy of Plutarch. for he is, in my Opinion, of all other, the greatest Master in that kind of [Page 261] Writing; but withall, there are a thousand others which he has only touch'd, and glanc'd upon, where he only points with his Finger to direct us which way we may go if we will, and contents himself sometimes with gi­ving only one brisk hit in the nicest Article of the Question; from whence we are to grope out the rest: as for Example, where he says, That the Inhabitants of Asia came to be Vassals to one only, for not having been able to pronounce one Syllable, which is, No. Which Saying of his, gave perhaps matter and occa­sion to Boetius to write his Voluntary Servi­tude. Even this but to see him pick out a light Action in a man's Life; or a Word, that does not seem to be of any such Importance, is it self a whole Discourse. 'Tis to our Pre­judice that men of Understanding should so immoderately affect Brevity; no doubt but their Reputation is the better by it: but in the mean time we are the worse. Plutarch had rather we should applaud his Judgment, than commend his Knowledge, and had ra­ther leave us with an Appetite to read more, than glutted with that we have already read. He knew very well, that a Man may say too much even upon the best Subjects, and that Alexandrides did justly reproach him who made very elegant, but too long Speeches to the Ephori, when he said, O Stranger! thou speakest the things thou oughtest to speak, [Page 262] but not after the manner that thou should'st speak them. Such as have lean and spare Bo­dies stuff themselves out with Cloaths; so they who are defective in Matter, endeavour to make amends with Words. Humane Un­derstanding is marvellously enlightned by daily Conversation with men, for we are other­wise of our selves so stupid as to have our Sight limited to the length of our own No­ses. One asking Socrates of what Country he was, he did not make Answer of Athens, but of the World; he whose Imagination is better levell'd, could carry further, embrac'd the whole World for his Country, and ex­tended his Society and Friendship to all Man­kind; not as we do, who look no further than our Feet. When the Vines of our Vil­lage are nip'd with the Frost, the Parish Priest presently concludes, that the Indigna­tion of God is gone out against all Humane Race, and that the Cannibals have already got the Pip. Who is it, that seeing the bloody Havock of these Civil Wars of ours, does not cry out, That the Machine of the World is near Dissolution, and that the Day of Judgment is at hand; without considering, that many worse Revolutions have been seen, and that, in the mean time, People are very merry in a thousand other Parts of the Earth for all this? For my Part, considering the Li­cense and Impunity that always attend such [Page 263] Commotions, I admire they are so moderate, and that there is no more Mischief done. To him that feels the Hail-stones patter about his Ears, the whole Hemisphear appears to be in Storm and Tempest; like the ridiculous Sa­voyard, who said very gravely, That if that simple King of France could have manag'd his Fortune as he should have done, he might in time have come to have been Steward of the Houshold to the Duke his Master: the Fellow could not, in his shallow Imaginati­on, conceive that there could be any thing greater than a Duke of Savoy. And in truth we are all of us insensibly in this Error, an Error of a very great Train, and very perni­cious Consequence. But whoever shall re­present to his Fancy, as in a Picture, that great Image of our Mother Nature, pourtray­ed in her full Majesty and Lustre, whoever in her Face shall read so general and so con­stant a Variety, whoever shall observe him­self in that Figure, and not himself but a whole Kingdom, no bigger than the least Touch or Prick of a Pencil in comparison of the whole, that man alone is able to value things according to their true Estimate and Grandeur. This great World which some do yet multiply as several Species under one Ge­nus, is the Mirror wherein we are to behold our selves, to be able to know our selves as we ought to do. In short, I would have [Page 264] this to be the Book my young Gentleman should study with the most Attention; for so many Humours, so many Sects, so many Judgments, Opinions, Laws, and Customs, teach us to judge aright of our own, and in­form our Understandings to discover their Imperfection and natural Infirmity, which is no trivial Speculation. So many Mutations of States and Kingdoms, and so many Turns and Revolutions of publick Fortune, will make us wise enough to make no great won­der of our own. So many great Names, so many famous Victories and Conquests drown'd and swallow'd in Oblivion, render our Hopes ridiculous of eternizing our Names by the ta­king of half a score light Horse, or a paltry Turret, which only derives its Memory from its Ruine. The Pride and Arrogancy of so many foreign Pomps and Ceremonies, the tu­morous Majesty of so many Courts and Gran­deurs, accustom and fortifie our Sight with­out Astonishment to behold and endure the lustre of our own. So many millions of men buried before us, encourage us not to fear to go seek so good Company in the other World: and so of all the rest. Pythagoras was wont to say, That our Life retires to the great and populous Assembly of the Olympick Games, wherein some exercise the Body, that they may carry away the Glory of the Prize in those Contentions, and others carry Merchan­dise [Page 265] to sell for Profit. There are also some (and those none of the worst sort) who pur­sue no other Advantage than only to look on, and consider how, and why every thing is done, and to be unactive Spectators of the Lives of other men, thereby the better to judge of, and to regulate their own; and in­deed, from Examples, all the Instruction couch'd in Philosophical Discourses, may naturally flow, to which all humane Actions, as to their best Rule, ought to be especially di­rected: where a Man shall be taught to know,

What it is to know, and what to be ignorant, what ought to be the End and Design of Study, what Valour, Temperance, and Justice are, the difference betwixt Ambition and Avarice, Ser­vitude and Subjection, License and Liberty, by what Token a man may know the true and [Page 266] solid Contentation, how far Death, Afflicti­on, and Disgrace, are to be apprehended.

By what secret Springs we move, and the Reason of our various Agitations and Irreso­lutions: for methinks the first Doctrine with which one should season his Understanding, ought to be that which regulates his Manners and his Sense; that teaches him to know himself, and how both well to dye, and well to live. Amongst the Liberal Sciences, let us begin with that that makes us free; not that they do not all serve in some measure to the Instruction and Use of Life, as all other things in some sort also do; but let us make choice of that which directly and profess'dly serves to that end. If we are once able to restrain the Offices of Humane Life within their just and natural Limits, we shall find that most of the Sciences in use are of no great use to us, and even in those that are, that there are many very unnecessary Cavi­ties and Dilatations which we were better to let alone, and following Socrates his Dire­ction, limit the Course of our Studies to those things only where a true and real Uti­lity [Page 267] and Advantage are to be expected and found.

'Tis a great foolery to teach our Children

the Knowledge of the Stars and the Mo­tion of the eighth Sphere, before their own.

Anaximenes writing to Pythagoras, To what purpose, said he, should I trouble my self in searching out the Secrets of the Stars, having Death or Slavery continually before my Eyes? For the Kings of Persia were at that time pre­paring to invade his Country. Every one ought to say the same, Being assaulted, as I am by Ambition, Avarice, Temerity, and Su­perstition, and having within so many other Enemies of Life, shall I go cudgel my Brains about the Worlds Revolutions? After having taught him what will make him more wise and good, you may then entertain him with the Elements of Logick, Physick, Geometry, and Rhetorick, and the Science which he shall then himself most incline to, his Judg­ment being before-hand form'd and fit to choose, he will quickly make his own. The Way of instructing him ought to be some­times by Discourse, and sometimes by read­ing, sometimes his Governour shall put the Author himself, which he shall think most proper for him, into his Hands, and some­times only the Marrow and Substance of it; and if himself be not conversant enough in Books to turn to all the fine Discourses the Book contains, there may some Man of Learn­ing be joyn'd to him, that upon every occa­sion [Page 269] shall supply him with what he desires, and stands in need of, to recommend to his Pupil. And who can doubt, but that this way of teaching is much more easie and na­tural, than that of Gaza? In which the pre­cepts are so intricate, and so harsh, and the Words so vain, lean, and insignificant, that there is no hold to be taken of them, nothing that quickens and elevates the Wit and Fancy, whereas here the Mind has what to feed upon, and to digest: this Fruit there­fore is not only without comparison, much more fair and beautiful; but will also be much more early, and ripe. 'Tis a thousand pitties, that Masters should be at such a pass in this Age of ours, that Philosophy, even with Men of Understanding, should be look't upon as a vain, and fantastick Name, a thing of no use, no value, either in Opinion or Effect, of which I think these lowsie Ergo­tismes, and little Sophistry, by prepossessing the Avenues unto it, are the cause. And People are much to blame to represent it to Children for a thing of so difficult access, and with such a frowing, grim, and formi­dable aspect: who has disguis'd it thus, with this false, pale, and ghostly Countenance? There is nothing more aery, more gay, more frolick, and I had like to have said, more wanton. She preaches nothing but Feasting and Jollity; a melancholick thoughtful look [Page 270] shews that she does not inhabit there. Deme­trius the Grammarian finding in the Temple of Delphos a Knot of Philosophers set chat­ting together, said to them, Either I am much deceiv'd, or by your cheerful and pleasant Coun­tenances, you are engag'd in no very deep Dis­course. To which one of them, Heracleon the Magician, reply'd, 'Tis for such as are puzzled about enquiring whether the future Tense of the Verb [...] be spelt with a dou­ble λ, or that hunt after the Derivation of the Comparatives [...], and the Su­perlatives [...], to knit their Brows whilst discoursing of their Science: but as to Philosophical Discourses, they always divert and cheer up those they entertain, and never deject them or make them sad.

The Soul that entertains Philosophy, ought to be of such a Constitution of Health, as to render the Body in like manner healthful too; she ought to make her. Tranquillity and Sa­tisfaction [Page 271] shine so as to appear without, and her Contentment ought to fashion the out­ward Behaviour to her own Mould, and consequently to fortifie it with a graceful Confidence, an active Carriage, and with a serene and contented Countenance. The most manifest sign of Wisdom is a continual Chear­fulness;Cheerful­ness a sign of Wis­dom. her Estate is like that of things in the Regions above the Moon, always clear and serene. 'Tis Baraco and Baralipton that render their Disciples so dirty and ill-fa­vour'd, and not she; they do not so much as know her but by Hear-say. It is she that calms and appeases the Storms and Tempests of the Soul, and who teaches Famine and Fe­vers to laugh and sing; and that, not by certain imaginary Epicycles, but by natural and manifest Reasons. She has Vertue for her end; which is not, as the School-men say, scituate upon the summity of a perpen­dicular Rock, and an inaccessible Precipice. Such as have approach'd her, find it quite contrary, to be seated in a fair, fruitful, and flourishing Plain, from whence she easily dis­covers all things subjected to her; to which Place any one may however arrive, if he know but the easiest and the nearest way, thorough shady, green, and sweetly flourish­ing Walks and Avenues, by a pleasant, easie, and smooth Descent, like that of the Coele­stial Arches: 'Tis for not having frequented [Page 272] this supreme, this beautiful, triumphant, and amiable, this equally delicious and courage­ous Vertue, this so profess'd and implacable Enemy to Anxiety, Sorrow, Fear and Con­straint, who, having Nature for her Guide, has Fortune and Pleasure for her Compani­ons, that they have gone according to their own weak Imagination, and created this ri­diculous, this sorrowful, querulous, despite­ful, threatning, terrible Image of it to them­selves and others, and plac'd it upon a soli­tary Rock amongst Thorns and Brambles, and made of it a Hobgoblin to fright People from daring to approach it. But the Go­vernour that I would have, that is such a one as knows it to be his Duty to possess his Pu­pil with as much or more Affection than Reve­rence to Vertue, will be able to inform him, that the Poets have evermore accommodated themselves to the Publick Humour, and make him sensible, that the Gods have planted more Toil and Sweat in the Avenues of the Cabinets of Venus, than those of Minerva, which, when he shall once find him begin to apprehend, and shall represent to him a Bra­damanta or an Angelica for a Mistris, a na­tural, active, generous, and not a mankind, but a manly Beauty, in comparison of a soft, delicate, artificial, simpring, and affected form; the one disguis'd in the Habit of an Heroick Youth, with her beautiful face set out in a [Page 273] glittering Helmet, the other trick'd up in Curls and Ribbons like a wanton Minx; he will then look upon his own Affection as brave and Masculine, when he shall choose quite contrary to that effoeminate Shepheard of Phrygia. Such a Tutor will make a Pupil to digest this new Doctrine, that the height and value of true Vertue consists in the Faci­lity, Utility, and Pleasure of its Exercise; so far from Difficulty, that Boys, as well as Men, and the innocent as well as the subtle, may make it their own; and it is by Order and good Conduct, and not by Force, that it is to be acquir'd. Socrates, her first Mini­on, is so averse to all manner of Violence, as totally to throw it aside, to slip into the more natural Facility of her own Progress: 'Tis the Nursing-Mother of all humane Plea­sures, who in rendring them just, renders them also pure and permanent; in moderating them, keeps them in Breath and Appetite; in interdicting those which she her self refuses, whets our Desire to those that she allows; and, like a kind and liberal Mother, abun­dantly allows all that Nature requires, even to Saciety, if not to Lassitude; unless we will declaim, That the Regiment of Health stops the Toper's Hand before he have drank him­self Drunk, the Gluttons before he have eat­en to a Surfeit, and the Whore-masters Ca­reer before he have got the Pox, is an Ene­my to Pleasure. If the ordinary Fortune fail, [Page 274] and that she meet with an indocile Dispositi­on, she passes that Disciple by, and takes another, not so fickle and unsteady as the other, which she forms wholly her own. She can be Rich, be Potent and Wise, and knows how to lye upon soft Down, and per­fum'd Quilts too: she loves Life, Beauty, Glory, and Health; but her proper and pe­culiar Office is to know regularly how to make use of all these good things, and how to part with them without Concern: an Of­fice much more noble than troublesome, and without which the whole Course of Life is unnatural, turbulent, and deform'd; and there it is indeed, that Men may justly repre­sent those Monsters upon Rocks and Precipi­ces. If this Pupil shall happen to be of so cross and contrary a Disposition, that he had rather hear a Tale of a Tub than the true Narrative of some noble Expedition, or some wise and learned Discourse; who at the Beat of Drum, that excites the youthful Ardour of his Companions, leaves that to follow another that calls to a Morrice, or the Bears, and who would not wish, and find it more delightful, and more pleasing, to return all Dust and Sweat victorious from a Battel, than from Tennis, or from a Ball, with the Prize of those Exercises; I see no other Re­medy, but that he be bound Prentice in some good Town to learn to make minc'd Pyes, though he were the Son of a Duke, accord­ing [Page 275] to Plato's Precept, That Children are to be plac'd out, and dispos'd of, not ac­cording to the Wealth, Qualities, or Condi­tion of the Father, but according to the Fa­culties and the Capacity of their own Soul. But since Philosophy is that which instructs us to live, and that Infancy has there its Les­sons as well as other Ages, why is it not communicated to Children betimes? And why are they not more early initiated in it?

They begin to teach us to live when we have almost done living. A hundred Stu­dents have got the Pox before they have come to read Aristotle's Lecture of Temperance. Ci­cero said, That though he should live two mens Ages, he should never find leisure to study the Lyrick Poets; and I find these So­phisters yet more deplorably unprofitable. The Boy we would breed has a great deal less time to spare; he owes but the first fifteen or sixteen Years of his Life to Discipline, the Remainder is due to Action: let us therefore employ that short time in necessary Instructi­on. Away with the Logical Subtilties, they [Page 276] are Abuses, things by which our Lives can never be amended: take me the plain Philo­sophical Discourses, learn first how rightly to choose, and then rightly to apply them, they are more easie to be understood than one of Bocace his Novels; a Child from Nurse is much more capable of them, than of learning to read or to write. Philosophy has Discour­ses equally proper for Childhood, as for the decrepid Age of Men; Aristotles method of Instructing Alexander the Great.and I am of Plutarch's mind, that Aristotle did not so much trouble his great Disciple with the Knack of forming Syllogisms, or with the Elements of Geome­try, as with infusing into him good Precepts concerning Valour, Prowess, Magnanimity, Temperance, and the Contempt of Fear; and with this Ammunition, sent him, whilst yet a Boy, with no more than 30000 Foot, 4000 Horse, and but 42000 Crowns, to subjugate the Empire of the whole Earth. For the other Arts and Sciences, Alexander, says, he highly indeed commended their Excellency and Quaintness, and had them in very great Ho­nour and Esteem, but not ravish'd with them to that degree, as to be tempted to affect the Practice of them in his own Person.

Epicurus, in the beginning of his Letter to Meniceus, says, That neither the youngest should refuse to Philosophize, nor the eldest grow weary of it: and who does otherwise, seems tacitely to imply, that either the time of living happily is not yet come, or, that it is already past: and yet for all that, I would not have this Pupil of ours imprison'd, and made a Slave to his Book; nor would I have him given up to the Morosity, and melan­cholick Humour, of a sowre, ill-natur'd Pe­dant. I would not have his Spirit cow'd and subdu'd, by applying him to the Rack, and tormenting him as some do, 14 or 15 Hours a day, and so make a Pack-Horse of him. Neither should I think it good, when, by reason of a solitary and melancholick Com­plexion, he is discover'd to be much addicted to his Book, to nourish that Humour in him: for that renders them unfit for Civil Conver­sation, and diverts them from better Em­ployments. And how many have I seen in my time totally brutified by an immoderate Thirst after Knowledge? Carneades was so besotted with it, that he would not find time so much as to comb his Head, or to pare his Nails; neither would I have his generous Manners spoil'd and corrupted by the Inci­vility and Barbarity of those of another. The [Page 278] French Wisdom has anciently been turn'd into Proverb, Early, but of no Continu­ance; and in truth, we yet see, that nothing can be more ingenious and pretty than the Children of France; but they ordinarily deceive the Hope and Expectation hath been conceiv'd of them; and grown up to be men, have nothing extraordinary, or worth taking notice of. I have heard men of good Under­standing say, these Colledges of ours to which we send our young People (and of which we have but too many) make them such Ani­mals as they are. But to our little Monsieur, a Closet, a Garden, the Table, his Bed, Soli­tude and Company, Morning and Evening, all Hours shall be the same, and all Places to him a Study; for Philosophy, who, as the For­matrix of Judgment and Manners, shall be his principal Lesson, has that priviledge to have a hand in every thing. The Orator Isocrates, be­ing at a Feast intreated to speak of his Art, all the Company were satisfied with, and com­mended his Answer; It is not now a time, said he, to do what I can do; and that which it is now time to do, I cannot do. For to make Orations and Rhetorical Disputes in a Company met together to laugh and make good cheer, had been very unseasonable and improper, and as much might have been said of all the other Sciences: But as to what con­cerns Philosophy, that part of it at least that treats of Man, and of his Offices and Du­ties, [Page 279] it has been the joynt Opinion of all wise men, that, out of respect to the sweet­ness of her Conversation, she is ever to be admitted in all Sports and Entertainments. And Plato, having invited her to his Feast, we shall see after how gentle and obliging a manner, accommodated both to Time and Place, she entertain'd the Company, though in a Discourse of the highest and most im­portant nature.

By which method of Instruction, my young Pupil will be much more, and better em­ploy'd than those of the Colledge are: but as the steps we take in walking to and fro in a Gallery, though three times as many, do not tire a man so much as those we employ in a formal Journey, so our Lesson, as it were accidentally occurring, without any set ob­ligation of Time or Place, and falling natu­rally into every action, will insensibly insi­nuate it self. By which means our very Ex­ercises and Recreations, Running, Wrestling, Musick, Dancing, Hunting, Riding, and Fen­cing, will prove to be a good part of our study.Behaviour. I would have his outward fashion and meen, and the disposition of his Limbs [Page 280] form'd at the same time with his Mind. 'Tis not a Soul, 'tis not a Body that we are train­ing up, but a man, and we ought not to di­vide him. And, as Plato says, we are not to fashion one without the other, but make them draw together like two Horses harness'd to a Coach. By which Saying of his, does he not seem to allow more time for, and to take more care of Exercises for the Body,Exercises. and to believe that the Mind in a good Proporti­on does her Business at the same time too? As to the rest, this Method of Education ought to be carried on with a severe sweet­ness, quite contrary to the practice of our Pe­dants, who, instead of tempting and alluring Children to Letters by apt and gentle wayes, do in truth present nothing before them but Rods and Ferula's,Severity an Enemy to Education. Horror and Cruelty. Away with this Violence! away with this Compul­sion! than which, I certainly believe nothing more dulls and degenerates a well-descended Nature. If you would have him apprehend shame and chastisement, do not harden him to them. Inure him to Heat and Cold, to Wind and Sun, and to Dangers that he ought to despise. Wean him from all effeminacy, and delicacy in Cloaths and Lodging, Eating and Drinking; accustom him to every thing, that he may not be a Sir Paris, a Carpet-Knight, but a sinewy, hardy, and vigorous young man. I have ever from a Child to the age wherein I now am, been of this opini­on, [Page 281] and am still constant to it. But amongst other things, the strict Government of most of our Colledges has evermore displeas'd me, and peradventure they might have err'd less perniciously on the indulgent side. 'Tis the true House of Correction of imprison'd Youth. They are taught to be debauch'd, by being pu­nish'd before they are so. Do but come in when they are about their Lesson, and you shall hear nothing but the out-cries of Boyes under execu­tion, with the thund'ring noise of their Peda­gogues, drunk with Fury, to make up the Con­sort. A very pretty way this! to tempt these tender and timorous Souls to love their Book, with a furious Countenance, and a Rod in hand! A cursed and pernicious way of Pro­ceeding! Besides what Quintilian has very well observ'd, that this insolent Authority is often attended by very dangerous Consequen­ces, and particularly our way of Chastising. How much more decent would it be to see their Classes strew'd with green Leaves and fine Flowers, than with the bloody Stumps of Birch and Willows? Were it left to my ordering, I should paint the School with the Pictures of Joy and Gladness; Flora, and the Graces, as the Philosopher Spencippus did his; that where their Profit is, they might there have their Pleasure too. Such Viands as are proper and wholsome for Children, should be season'd with Sugar, and such as are dan­gerous to them, with Gall. A Man would [Page 282] admire to see how sollicitous Plato is in his Laws concerning the Gayety and Diversion of the Youth of his City, and how much he enlarges himself upon their Races, Sports, Songs, Leaps, and Dances: of which, he says, that Antiquity has given the ordering and Patro­nage particularly to Apollo, Minerva, and the Muses. He insists long upon, and is very particular in giving innumerable Precepts for Exercises; but as to the Lettered Sciences, says very little, and only seems particularly to recommend Poecy upon the Account of Musick. All Singularity in our Manners and Conditions, is by all means to be avoided, as inconsistent with civil Society. Who would not be astonish'd at so strange a Constitution as that of Demophon, Steward to Alexander the Great, who sweat in the Shade, and shi­ver'd in the Sun? I have seen those who have run from the smell of a mellow Apple with greater Precipitation than from a Harque­buze Shot; others run away from a Mouse; others vomit at the sight of Cream, others ready to swoon at the sight of a Cat, as Ger­manicus, who could neither endure the Sight nor the Crowing of a Cock. I will not de­ny, but that there may peradventure be some occult Cause and natural Aversion in these Cases; but certainly a Man might conquer it, if he took it in time. Precept has in this wrought so effectually upon me, though not without some Endeavour on my part, I con­fess, [Page 283] that Beer excepted, my Appetite accom­modates it self indifferently to all sorts of Di­et. Young Bodies are supple, one should therefore in that Age bend and ply them to all Fashions and Customs: and provided a Man can contain the Appetite and the Will within their due Limits, let a Young-man, a Gods Name, be rendred fit for all Nations and all Companies, even to Debauchery and Excess if occasion be; that is, where he shall do it out of Complacency to the Customs of the Place. Let him be able to do every thing, but love to do nothing but what is good. The Philosophers themselves do not justifie Callisthenes for forfeiting the Favour of his Master Alexander the Great, by refu­sing to pledge him a Cup of Wine. Let him laugh, play, and drink with his Prince: nay I would have him, even in his Debauches, too hard for the rest of the Company, and to excell his Companions in Ability and Vigour, and that he may not give over doing it, ei­ther through Defect of Power or Knowledge how to do it, but for want of Will.Seneca, Epist. 60. Multum interest, utrum peccare quis nolit, aut nesciat; There is a vast Difference betwixt forbearing to sin, and not knowing how to sin. I thought I past a Complement upon a Lord, as free from those Excesses as any man whatever in France, by asking him before a great deal of very good Company, How many times in his Life he had been drunk in Germany, in the [Page 284] time of his being there about his Majesties Affairs; which he also took as it was intend­ed, and made Answer, Three times; and withall, told us the whole Story of his De­bauches. I know some, who for want of this Faculty, have found a great Inconveni­ence by it in negotiating with that Nation. I have often with great Admiration reflected upon the wonderful Constitution of Alcibia­des, who so easily could transform himself to so various Fashions without any Prejudice to his Health; one while out-doing the Persian Pomp and Luxury, and another, the Lacedae­monian Austerity and Frugality, as reform'd in Sparta, as voluptuous in Ionia.

I would have my Pupil to be such a one,

[Page 285]These are my Lessons, and he who puts them in practice shall reap more advantage than he who has had them read to him only, and only knows them. If you see him, you hear him: if you hear him, you see him. God for­bid, says one in Plato, that to Philosophize were only to read a great many Books, and to learn the Arts.Cic. Tusc. 4. Hanc amplissimam omnium artium bene vivendi disciplinam, vita magis quem literis persequuti sunt: They have more illustrated and improv'd this Discipline of li­ving well, which of all Arts is the greatest, by their Lives, than by their Reading. Leo, Prince of the Phliasians, asking Heraclides Ponticus of what Art or Science he made Profession; I know, said he, neither Art nor Science, but I am a Philosopher. One re­proaching Diogenes, that, being ignorant, he should pretend to Philosophy; I therefore, answer'd he, pretend to it with so much the more reason. Hegesias, intreated that he would read a certain Book to him; You are pleasant, said he, you choose those Figs that are true and natural, and not those that are painted; why do you not also choose Exer­cises which are naturally true, rather than those written and prescrib'd? A Man cannot so soon get his Lesson by Heart as he may practice it: he will repeat it in his Actions. We shall discover if there be Prudence in his Exercises, if there be Sincerity and Justice in his Deportments, if there be Grace and Judg­ment [Page 286] in his Speaking, if there be Constancy in his Sickness, if there be Modesty in his Mirth, Temperance in his Pleasures, Order in his Oeconomy, and Indifferency in his Pallat, whether what he eats or drinks be Flesh or Fish,Cic. ibid. Wine or Water. Qui discipli­nam suam non ostentationem scientiae, sed legem vitae putet: quique obtemperet ipse sibi, & de­cretis pareat; Who considers his own Disci­pline, not as a vain Ostentation of Science, but as a Law and Rule of Life; and who obeys his own Decrees, and observes that Re­giment he has prescrib'd to himself. The Conduct of our Lives is the true mirror of our Doctrine. Zeupidamus, to one who ask'd him, Why the Lacedaemonians did not com­mit their Constitutions of Chivalry to Wri­ting, and deliver them to their Young-men to read; made Answer, That it was because they would inure them to Action, and not amuse them with Words: with such a one, after fifteen or sixteen Years study, compare one of our Colledge Latinists, who has thrown away so much time in nothing but learning to speak. The World is nothing but Babble; and I hardly ever yet saw that Man who did not rather Prate too much, than Speak too little; and yet half of our Age is embezled this way. We are kept four or five Years to learn Words only, and to tack them together into Clauses; as many more to make Exercises, and to divide a con­tinued [Page 287] Discourse into so many Parts; and other five Years at least to learn succinctly to mix and interweave them after a subtle and intricate manner. Let us leave it to the learn­ed Professors. Going one day to Orleans, I met in the Plain on this side Clery two Pe­dants travelling towards Bourdeaux, about fifty Paces distant from one another, and a good way further behind them, I discover'd a Troop of Horse, with a Gentleman in the Head of them, which was the late Monsieur le Comte de la Rochefoucaut: one of my Peo­ple enquir'd of the formost of these Domines, who that Gentleman was that came after him, who having not seen the Train that follow'd after, and I thinking he meant his Compani­on, pleasantly answer'd,A pleasant Answer of a Pedant. He is not a Gentle­man, Sir; he is a Grammarian, and I am a Logician. Now we who quite contrary, do not here pretend to breed a Grammarian, or a Logician, but a compleat Gentleman, let us leave them to throw away their Time at their own Fancy: our Business lies else­where. Let but our Pupil be well furnish'd with Things, Words will follow but too fast; he will pull them after him if they do not voluntarily follow. I have observ'd some to make Excuses, that they cannot ex­press themselves, and pretend to have their Fancies full of a great many very fine things, which yet, for want of Elocuti­on, they cannot utter; a mere Shift, and [Page 288] nothing else. Will you know what I think of it? I think they are nothing but sha­dows of some imperfect Images and Con­ceptions that they know not what to make of within, nor consequently bring them out: they do not yet themselves understand what they would be at, and if you but observe how they haggle, and stammer upon the point of Parturition, you will soon conclude, that their Labour is not to Delivery, but about Conception, and that they are but licking their formeless Embrio. For my part, I hold, and Socrates is positive in it, that whoever has in his Mind a spritely and clear Imagination, he will express it well enough in one kind or another, and, though he were dumb, by Signes.

And as another as poetically sayes in Prose, cum Res Animum occupavare, Seneca. Verba ambiunt. When things are once form'd in the Fancy, Words offer themselves in muster: and this other,Cicero de [...]in. l. 3. ipsae res Verba rapiunt. The things themselves force Words to express them. He knows nothing of Ablative, Conjunctive, Substantive, or Grammar, no more than his Lacquey, or a Fish-Wife of the Petit Pont; and yet these will give you a Belly full of [Page 289] talk if you will hear them, and peradventure shall trip as little in their Language as the best Masters of Art in France. He knows no Rhe­torick, nor how in a Preface to bribe the Bene­volence of the courteous Reader; neither does he care, nor is it very necessary he should know it. Indeed all this Decoration of Painting is ea­sily obscur'd and put down by the Lustre of a simple and blunt Truth: these fine Flourishes serve only to amuze the Vulgar, of themselves incapable of more solid and nutritive Diet, as Afer does very evidently demonstrate in Tacitus. The Ambassadours of Samos, pre­par'd with a long and elegant Oration, came to Cleomenes King of Sparta to incite him to a War against the Tyrant Polycrates; who af­ter he had heard their Harangue with great Gravity and Patience, gave them this short Answer; As to the Exordium, I remember it not, nor consequently the middle of your Speech; but for what concerns your Conclu­sion, I will not do what you desire: A very pretty Answer this, methinks, and a pack of learned Orators no doubt most sweetly con­founded. And what did this other say? The Athenians were to choose one of two Archi­tects for a Surveyor to a very great Building they had design'd, of which, the first, a pert affected Fellow, offer'd his Service in a long premeditated Discourse upon the Subject, and by his Oratory inclin'd the Voices of the People in his Favour; but the other in three [Page 290] Words, Lords of Athens, All that this Man hath said I will do. When Cicero was in the height and heat of his Eloquence, many were struck with Admiration; but Cato did only laugh at it, saying, We have a pleasant Ridicu­lum Consu­lum. Consul. Let it go before, or come after, a good Sen­tence, or a thing well said, is always in sea­son, if it neither suit well with what went before, nor has any very good Coherence with what follows after, it is however good in it self. I am none of those who think that good Rhyme makes a good Poem. Let him make short long, and long short if he will, 'tis no great matter; if there be Invention, and that the Wit and Judgment have well perform'd their Offices, I will say here's a good Poet, but an ill Rhymer.

Let a Man, says Horace, divest his Work of all Ornaments and Measure,

He will never the more forfeit his Praise for that; the very pieces will be fine by them­selves. Menander's Answer had this Meaning, who being reprov'd by a Friend, the time drawing on at which he had precisely pro­mis'd a Comedy that he had not yet fall'n in hand with it, It is made, and ready, said he, all to the Verses. Having contriv'd the Sub­ject, and dispos'd the Scenes in his Fancy, he took little care for the rest. Since Ronsard and du Bellay have given Reputation to our French Poesie, every little Dabler, for ought I see, swells his Words as high, and makes his Cadences very near as harmonious as they. Plus sonat, quam valet;Seneca, Epist. 40. There were never so many Poetasters as now; but tho they find it no hard matter to rhime as musically as they, they yet fall infinitely short of imitating the brave Descriptions of the one, and the curi­ous Invention of the other. But what will become of our young Gentleman, if he be at­tack'd with the sophistick Subtilty of some Syllogism? A Westphalia Ham makes a Man drink, quenches Thirst; therefore a Westpha­lia Ham quenches Thirst. Why let him laugh at it, and it will be more Discretion to do so, than to go about to answer it: or let him borrow this pleasant Evasion from Aristippus, Why should I trouble my self to untye that, [Page 292] which, bound as it is, gives me so much trouble? One offering at this dialectick Jug­ling against Cleanthes, Chrysippus took him short, saying, Reserve these Baubles to play with Children, and do not by such Fooleries divert the serious Thoughts of a man of Years. If these ridiculous Subtilties, contorta, & aculeata Sophismata, Cicero Acad. l. 4. as Cicero calls them, are design'd to possess him with an Untruth, they are then dangerous; but if they signifie no more than only to make him laugh, I do not see why they should be so considerable, that a man need to be fortified against them. There are some so ridiculous, as to go a Mile out of their way to hook in a fine Word:Quint. l. 8. Aut qui non verba rebus aptant, sed res arcessunt, quibus verba conveniant; Who do not fit Words to the Subject, but seek out for things quite from the Purpose to fit those Words they are so enamour'd of. And as another says,Sen. Ep. 59. Qui alicujus verbi decore placen­tis vocentur ad id, quod non proposuerant scri­bere; Who by their Fondness of some fine sound­ing Word, are tempted to something they had no Intention to treat of. I for my part rather bring in a fine Sentence by Head and Shoulders to fit my purpose, than divert my Designs to hunt after a Sentence. On the contrary, Words are to serve, and to follow a man's purpose; and let Gascon come in Play where French will not do. I would have things so exceed, and whol­ly possess the Imagination of him that hears, [Page 293] that he should have something else to do, than to think of Words. The way of Speaking that I love, is natural and plain, as well in Writing as Speaking, and a sinewy and signi­ficant way of expressing a man's self, short and pithy, and not so elegant and artificial as prompt and vehement.

Rather hard than harsh, free from Affectati­on; irregular, incontiguous, and bold, where every Piece makes up an entire Body; not like a Pedant, a Preacher, or a Pleader, but rather a Souldier-like Stile, as Suetonius calls that of Julius Caesar; and yet I see no rea­son why he should call it so. I have never yet been apt to imitate the negligent Garb, which is yet observable amongst the Young­men of our time, to wear my Cloak on one Shoulder, my Bonnet on one side, and one Stocking in something more Disorder than the other, which seems to express a kind of manly Disdain of those exotick Or­naments, and a Contempt of Art; but I find that Negligence of much better use in the form of Speaking. All Affectation,Affectation unbecom­ing a Cour­tier. par­ticularly in the French Gayety and Freedom, is ungraceful in a Courtier, and in a Monar­chy every Gentleman ought to be fashion'd [Page 294] according to the Court Model; for which reason, an easie and natural Negligence does well. I no more like a Web where the Knots and Seams are to be seen, than a fine Propor­tion, so delicate, that a man may tell all the Bones and Veins.Seneca, Epist. 40. Quae veritati operam dat ora­tio, incomposita sit, & simplex. Quis accuratè loquitur, nisi qui vult putidè loqui? Let the Language that is dedicated to Truth be plain and unaffected. For who studies to speak quaint­ly and accurately, that does not at the same time design to perplex his Auditory? That Eloquence prejudices the Subject it would advance, that wholly attracts us to it self. And as in our outward Habit, 'tis a ridiculous Effeminacy to distinguish our selves by a particular and unpractis'd Garb or Fashion; so in Language, to study new Phrases, and to affect Words that are not of current use, proceeds from a Childish and Scholastick Ambition. Shall I be bound to speak no other Language than what is spoken in the Courts of Paris? Aristopha­nes the Grammarian was a little out, when he reprehended Epicurus for this plain way of delivering himself, the End and Design of his Oratory being only Perspicuity of Speech, and to be understood. The Imitation of Words by its own Facility, immediately dis­perses it self thorough a whole People: but the imitation of inventing, and fitly applying those Words, is of a slower Progress. The Generality of Readers, for having found a [Page 295] like Robe, very mistakingly imagine they have the same Body and Inside too, whereas Force and Sinews are never to be borrowed, the Gloss and outward Ornament, that is, Words and Elocution, may. Most of those I converse with, speak the same Language I here write; but whether they think the same Thoughts I cannot say. The Athenians (says Plato) are observ'd to study length and ele­gancy of Speaking; the Lacedaemonians to affect Brevity; and those of Creet to aim more at the Fecundity of Conception than the Fertility of Speech; and these are the best. Zenon us'd to say, that he had two sorts of Disciples, one that he call'd [...], cu­rious to learn things, and these were his Fa­vourites; the other, [...], that cared for nothing but Words: not that fine Speaking is not a very good and commendable Quality; but not so excellent and so necessary as some would make it; and I am scandaliz'd that our whole Life should be spent in nothing else. I would first understand my own Language, and that of my Neighbours with whom most of my Business and Conversation lies. No doubt but Greek and Latine are very great Ornaments, and of very great use, but we buy them too dear: I will here discover one way, which also has been experimented in my own Person, by which they are to be had better cheap, and such may make use of it as will. My Father having made the most pre­cise [Page 296] Enquiry that any man could possibly make amongst Men of the greatest Learning and Judgment, of an exact method of Educa­tion, was by them caution'd of the Inconve­nience then in use, and made to believe, that the tedious time we applied to the learning of the Tongues of them who had them for no­thing, was the sole cause we could not arrive to that Grandeur of Soul, and Perfection of Knowledge, with the ancient Greeks and Ro­mans: I do not however believe that to be the only Cause: but the Expedient my Fa­ther found out for this, was, that in my In­fancy, and before I began to speak, he com­mitted me to the care of a German, The Au­thor's Edu­cation. who since died a famous Physician in France, totally ignorant of our Language, but very fluent, and a great Critick in Latine. This Man, whom he had fetch'd out of his own Coun­try, and whom he entertained with a very great Salary for this only end, had me conti­nually in his Arms: to whom there were al­so joyn'd two others of the same Nation, but of inferiour Learning, to attend me, and sometimes to relieve him; who all of them entertain'd me with no other Language but Latine. As to the rest of his Family, it was an inviolable Rule, that neither Himself, nor my Mother, Man nor Maid, should speak any thing in my Company, but such Latine Words as every one had learnt only to gab­ble with me. It is not to be imagin'd how [Page 297] great an advantage this prov'd to the whole Family, my Father, and my Mother, by this means learning Latin enough to understand it perfectly well, and to speak it to such a Degree, as was sufficient for any necessary Use; as also those of the Servants did, who were most frequent with me. To be short, we did Latin it at such a Rate, that it over­flowed to all the Neighbouring Villages, where there yet remain, that have establish't themselves by Custom, several Latin Appel­lations of Artizans and their Tools. As for what concerns my self, I was above six years of Age before I understood either French or Perigordin, any more than Arabick, and without Art, Book, Grammar, or Precept, Whipping, or the expence of a Tear, had by that time learn'd to speak as pure Latin as my Master himself. If (for Example) they were to give me a Theam after the Col­ledge fashion, they gave it to others in French, but to me they were of necessity to give it in the worst Latin, to turn it into that which was pure and good; and Nicholas Grouchi, who writ a Book de Comitiis Romanorum; William Guirentes, who has writ a Comment upon Aristotle; George Bucanan, that great Scotch Poet, and Marcus Antonius Muretus (whom both France and Italy have acknow­ledg'd for the best Orator of his time) my domestick Tutors, have all of them often told me, that I had in my Infancy that Language [Page 298] so very fluent and ready, that they were afraid to enter into Discourse with me; and parti­cularly Bucanan, whom I since saw attending the late Mareschal de Brissac, then told me, that he was about to write a Treatise of Edu­cation, the Example of which, he intended to take from mine, for he was then Tutor to that Count de Brissac who afterwards prov'd so valiant and so brave a Gentleman. As to Greek, of which I have but a very little Smattering, my Father also design'd to have it taught me by a Trick; but a new one, and by way of sport; tossing our Declensions to and fro, after the manner of those, who by certain Games at Tables and Chess, learn Geometry and Arithmetick: for he, amongst other Rules, had been advis'd to make me re­lish Science and Duty by an unforc'd Will, and of my own voluntary motion, and to educate my Soul in all Liberty and Delight, without any Severity or Constraint. Which also he was an Observer of to such a degree, even of Superstition, if I may say so, that some being of Opinion, it did trouble and disturb the Brains of Children suddenly to wake them in the Morning, and to snatch them violently and over-hastily from Sleep, (wherein they are much more profoundly envolv'd than we) he only caus'd me to be wak'd by the Sound of some musical Instrument, and was never unprovided of a Musician for that purpose: by which Example you may judge of the rest, [Page 299] this alone being sufficient to recommend both the Prudence and the Affection of so good a Father; who therefore is not to be blam'd if he did not reap Fruits answerable to so exqui­site a Culture: of which, two things were the cause. First, a steril and improper Soil: for, tho I was of a strong and healthful Constituti­on, and of a Disposition tollerably sweet and tractable; yet I was withall so heavy, idle, and indispos'd, that they could not rouze me from this Stupidity to any Exercise of Recre­ation, nor get me out to play. What I saw, I saw clearly enough, and under this lazy Com­plexion nourish'd a bold Imagination, and Opinions above my Age. I had a slothful Wit, that would go no faster than it was led, a slow Understanding, a languishing Invention, and after all, incredible defect of Memory; so that it is no wonder, if from all these no­thing considerable can be extracted. Secondly, (like those, who, impatient of a long and stea­dy cure, submit to all sorts of Prescriptions and Receipts) the good Man being extreamly ti­morous of any way failing in a thing he had so wholly set his Heart upon, suffer'd himself at last to be over-rul'd by the common Opini­on, and complying with the method of the time, having no more those Persons he had brought out of Italy, and who had given him the first Model of Education, about him, he sent me at six Years of Age to the Colledge of Guienne, at that time the best and most [Page 300] flourishing in France. And there it was not possible to add any thing to the care he had to provide me the most able Tutors, with all other Circumstances of Education, reserving also several particular Rules contrary to the Colledge Practice; but so it was, that with all these Precautions, it was a Colledge still. My Latine immediately grew corrupt, of which also by Discontinuance I have since lost all manner of use: so that this new way of Institution serv'd me to no other end, than only at my first coming to prefer me to the first Forms: for at thirteen Years old, that I came out of the Colledge, I had run thorough my whole Course (as they call it) and in truth without any manner of Improvement, that I can honestly brag of, in all this time. The first thing that gave me any Taste of Books, was the Pleasure I took in reading the Fables of Ovid's Metamorphoses, and with them I was so taken, that being but Seven or Eight Years old, I would steal from all other Divertisements to read them, both by reason that this was my own natural Language, the easiest Book that I was acquainted with, and for the Subject, the most accommodated to the Capacity of my Age: for as for Lancelot du Lake, Amadis de Gaule, Huon of Bourde­aux, and such Trumpery, which Children are most delighted with, I had never so much as heard their Names, no more than I yet know what they contain; so exact was the [Page 301] Discipline wherein I was brought up. But this was enough to make me neglect the other Lessons were prescrib'd me; and here it was infinitely to my Advantage, to have to do with an understanding Tutor, who very well knew discreetly to connive at this and other Truantries of the same nature; for by this means I ran thorough Virgil's Aeneids, Terence, Plautus, and some Italian Comedies, allur'd by the Softness and Pleasure of the Subject; whereas had he been so foolish as to have taken me off this Diversion, I do really believe, I had brought nothing away from the Colledge but a Hatred of Books, as al­most all our young Gentlemen do: but he carried himself very discreetly in that Business, seeming to take no notice, and allowing me only such time as I could steal from my other regular, and yet mode­rate Studies, which whetted my Appetite to devour those Books I was naturally so much in love with before. For the chief things my Father expected from their En­deavour to whom he had deliver'd me for Education, was Affability of Manners, and good Humour; and, to say the Truth, mine had no other Vice but Sloth and want of Mettal. There was no fear that I would do ill, but that I would do nothing; no body suspected that I would be wick­ed, but useless; they foresaw an Idleness, but no Malice in my Nature; and I [Page 302] find it falls out accordingly. The Complaints I hear of my self are these, he is idle, cold in the Offices of Friendship and Relation, and remiss in those of the Publick; he is too par­ticular, he is too proud: but the most Inju­rious do not say, Why has he taken such a thing? Why has he not paid such a one? But why does he part with nothing? Why does he not give? And I should take it for a Fa­vour that Men would expect from me no greater Effects of Supererogation than these. But they are unjust to exact from me what I do not owe; and in condemning me to it, they efface the Gratification of the Act, and deprive me of the Gratitude that would be due to me upon such a Bounty; whereas the active Benefit ought to be of so much the greater Value from my hands, by how much I am not passive that way at all. I can the more freely dispose of my Fortune the more it is mine, and of my self, the more I am my own. Nevertheless, if I were good at setting out my own Actions, I could peradventure very well repell these Reproaches, and could give some to understand, that they are not so much offended, that I do not enough, as that I am able to do a great deal more than I do. Yet for all this heavy Disposition of mine, my Mind, when retir'd into it self, was not alto­gether idle, nor wholly depriv'd of solid In­quisition, nor of certain and infallible Results about those Objects it could comprehend, and [Page 303] could also without any Helps digest them; but amongst other things, I do really believe, it had been totally impossible to have made it to submit by Violence and Force. Shall I here acquaint you with one Faculty of my Youth? I had great Boldness and Assurance of Countenance, and to that a Flexibility of Voice and Gesture to any Part I undertook to act.

When I play'd the chiefest Parts in the Latine Tragedies of Bucanan, Guerente, and Mure­tus, that were presented in our Colledge of Guienne, with very great Applause: where­in Andreas Goveanus, our Principal, as in all other Parts of his Undertaking, was, without Comparison, the best of that Employment in France; and I was look'd upon as one of the chief Actors. 'Tis an Exercise that I do not disapprove in young People of Condition, and have since seen our Princes, by the Ex­ample of the Ancients, in Person handsomly and commendably perform these Exercises; and it was moreover allow'd to Persons of the greatest Quality to profess, and make a Trade of it in Greece. Liv. l. 6.26. Aristoni Tragico actori rem aperit: huic & genus, & fortuna honesta erant: nec Ars, quia nihil tale apud Graecos [Page 304] pudori est ea deformabat. He imparted this Af­fair to Aristo the Tragedian, a man of a good Family and Fortune, which nevertheless, did neither of them receive any Blemish by that Pro­fession; nothing of that kind being reputed a Disparagement in Greece. Nay, I have al­ways tax'd those with Impertinence who con­demn these Entertainments, and with Inju­stice those who refuse to admit such Comedi­ans as are worth seeing into the good Towns, and grudge the People that publick Diversi­on. Well-govern'd Corporations take care to assemble their Citizens, not only to the so­lemn Duties of Devotion, but also to Sports and Spectacles. They find Society and Friend­ship augmented by it; and besides, can there possibly be allow'd a more orderly and regu­lar Diversion than what is perform'd in the Sight of every one, and very often in the Presence of the Supream Magistrate himself? And I, for my part, should think it reasona­ble, that the Prince should sometimes gratifie his People at his own Expence; and that in great and populous Cities there might be Theatres erected for such Entertainments, if but to divert them from worse and more pri­vate Actions. But, to return to my Subject, there is nothing like alluring the Appetite and Affection, otherwise you make nothing but so many Asses loaden with Books, and by vertue of the Lash, give them their Pocket full of Learning to keep; whereas, to do [Page 305] well, you should not only lodge it with them, but make them to espouse it.

CHAP. XXVI. That it is Folly to measure Truth and Error by our own Capacity.

'TIS not perhaps without reason, that we attribute Facility of Belief, and Easiness of Perswasion, to Simplicity and Ig­norance; and I have heard the Belief com­par'd to the Impression of a Seal stamp'd up­on the Soul, which by how much softer and of less resistance it is, is the more easie to be impos'd upon. Vt necesse est lancem in libra ponderibus impositis de primis sic animum per­spicuis cedere; As the Scale of the Ballance must give way to the Weight that presses it down, so the Mind must of necessity yield to Demon­stration: and by how much the Soul is more empty and without Counterpoise, with so much greater Facility it dips under the weight of the first Perswasion. And this is the rea­son that Children, the common People, Wo­men, and sick Folks, are most apt to be led by the Ears. But then on the other side, 'tis a very great Presumption, to slight and con­demn all things for false that do not appear to us likely to be true; which is the ordina­ry Vice of such as fancy themselves wiser than [Page 306] their Neighbours. I was my self once one of those; and if I heard talk of dead Folks walking, of Prophecies, Enchantments, Witch­crafts, or any other Story I had no mind to believe,

I presently pittied the poor People that were abus'd by these Follies; whereas I now find, that I my self was to be pittied as much at least as they; not that Experience has taught me any thing to convince my former Opini­on, tho my Curiosity has endeavoured that way; but Reason has instructed me, that thus resolutely to condemn any thing for false and impossible, is arrogantly and impiously to circumscribe and limit the Will of God, and the Power of Nature, within the Bounds of my own Capacity, than which no Folly can be greater. If we give the Names of Monster and Miracle to every thing our Rea­son cannot comprehend, how many are con­tinually presented before our Eyes? Let us but consider through what Clouds, and as it were groping in the Dark, our Teachers lead us to the Knowledge of most of the things we apply our Studies to, and we shall find that it is rather Custom than Knowledge [Page 307] that takes away the Wonder, and renders them easie and familiar to us.

And that if those things were now newly presented to us, we should think them as strange and incredible, if not more than any others.

He that had never seen a River, imagin'd the first he met with to be the Sea, and the greatest things that have fall'n within our Knowledge, we conclude the Extreams that Nature makes of the kind.

Consuetudine Oculorum, Cicero de Nat. Deo. lib. 2. assuescunt Animi, neque admirantur, neque requirunt rationes earum re­rum, quas semper vident. Things grow famili­ar to Mens Minds by being often seen; so that they neither admire, nor are inquisitive into things they daily see. The Novelty, rather than the greatness of things, tempts us to enquire into their Causes. But we are to judge with more reverence, and with greater Acknow­ledgment of our own Ignorance and Infirmi­ty of this infinite Power of Nature. How ma­ny unlikely things are there testified by Peo­ple of very good Repute, which if we can­not persuade our selves absolutely to believe, we ought at least to leave them in Suspence; for to conclude them impossible, is by a te­merarious Presumption to pretend to know the utmost Bounds of Possibility. Did we rightly understand the difference betwixt im­possible, betwixt extraordinary, and what is contrary to the common Opinion of Men, in believing rashly, and on the other side, in being not too incredulous, we should then observe the Rule of Ne quid nimis, enjoyn'd by Chilo. When we find in Froissard, that the Count de Foix knew in Bearn the defeat of John King of Castile at Juberoth the next [Page 317] day after, and the means by which he tells us he came to do so, we may be allow'd to be a little merry at it, as also at what our Annals report, that Pope Honorius, the same day that King Phillip Augustus died at Mant— per­formed his publick Obsequies at Rome, and commanded the like throughout all Italy; the Testimony of these Authors not being perhaps of Authority enough to restrain us. But what if Plutarch, besides several Examples that he produces out of Antiquity, tells us, he is as­sur'd by certain Knowledge, that in the time of Domitian, the News of the Battel lost by Antonius in Germany, was publish'd at Rome, many dayes Journey from thence, and dis­pers'd throughout the whole World, the same Day it was fought: and if Caesar was of Opi­nion, that it has often happened, that the re­port has preceded the accident; shall we not say, that these simple People have suffered themselves to be deceived with the Vulgar, for not having been so clear sighted as we? Is there any thing more delicate, more clear, more spritely, than Pliny's Judgment, when he is pleased to set it to work? Any thing more remote from vanity? Setting aside his Learning, of which I make less account, in which of these do any of us excell him? And yet there is scarce a Puisne Sophister that does not convince him of untruth, and that pre­tends not to instruct him in the Progress of the Works of Nature: When we read in Bouchet [Page 318] the Miracles of St. Hillary's Relicks: away with it, his Authority is not sufficient to bear us the Liberty of contradicting him: but ge­nerally to condemn all such like Stories, seems to me an impudence of the worst Character. The great St. Augustine, professes himself to have seen a blind Child recover sight upon the Relick of St. Gervase, and St. Protasius at Mil­lan, a Woman at Carthage cur'd of a Cancer, by the sign of the Cross made upon her by a Woman newly baptis'd. Hesperius, a familiar Friend of his, to have driven away the Spi­rits that haunted his House, with a little Earth of the Sepulchre of our Lord: which Earth being also transported thence into the Church, a Paralitick to have there been suddenly cur'd by it. A Woman in Procession, having touch'd St. Stephens Shrine with a Nosegay, and after rubbing her Eyes with it, to have recovered her Sight lost many years before; with seve­ral other Miracles, of which he professes him­self to have been an Eye Witness. Of what shall we accuse him and the two holy Bishops, Aurelius and Maximinus, both which he at­tests to the Truth of these things? Shall it be of Ignorance, Simplicity, and Facility; or of Malice, and Imposture? Is any Man now living so impudent, as to think himself com­parable to them, either in Vertue, Piety, Learn­ing, Cicero 2. de Div. l. 2. Judgment, or any kind of Perfection? Qui ut Rationem nullam afferent, ipsa Authoritate me frangerent. Who tho they should give me no [Page 319] Reason for what they affirm, would yet convince me with their Authority. 'Tis a presumption of great Danger and Consequence, besides the absurd Temerity it draws after it, to contemn what we do not comprehend. For after that, according to your fine Understanding, you have establish'd the Limits of Truth and Error, and that afterwards there appears a Necessity upon you of believing stranger things than those you have contradicted, you are already oblig'd to quit your hold, and to acquiesce. That which seems to me so much to disorder our Consciences in the Commotions we are now in concerning Religion, is the Catho­licks dispensing so much with their Belief; they fancy they appear Moderate, and Wise, when they grant to the Huguenosts some of the Articles in Question; but besides that, they do not discern what advantage it is to those with whom we contend, to begin to give Ground, and to retire, and how much this animates our Enemy to follow his blow: these Articles which they insist upon as things indifferent, are sometimes of very great im­portance, and dangerous Consequence. We are either wholly and absolutely to submit our selves to the Authority of our Ecclesiasti­cal Polity, or totally throw off all Obedience to it. 'Tis not for us to determine what and how much Obedience we owe to it, and this I can say, as having my self made tryal of it, that having formerly taken the liberty of my [Page 320] own Swing and Fancy, and omitted or neg­lected certain Rules of the Discipline of our Church, which seem'd to me vain, and of no Foundation: coming afterwards to discourse it with learned Men, I have found those very things to be built upon very good and solid Ground, and strong Foundation; and that nothing but Brutality and Ignorance makes us receive them with less Reverence than the rest: Why do we not consider what Contra­dictions we find in our own Judgments, how many things were yesterday Articles of our Faith, that to day appear no other than Fa­bles? Glory and Curiosity are the Scourges of the Soul; of which the last prompts us to thrust our Noses into every thing, and the other forbids us to leave any thing doubtful and undecided.

CHAP. XXVII. Of Friendship.

HAving consider'd the Fancy of a Painter, I have that serves me, I had a mind to imitate his way: For he chooses the fairest place, and middle of any Wall, or pannel a Wainscote, wherein to draw a Picture which he finishes with his utmost care, and art, and the vacuity about it he fills with Grotesque; which are odd Fanta­stick Figures without any grace but what they derive from their variety, and the ex­travagancy of their shapes. And in truth, what are these things I scribble, other than Grotesques, and Monstrous Bodies, made of dissenting parts, without any certain Fi­gure, or any other than accidental Order, Coherence, or Proportion?

In this second part I go hand in hand with my Painter; but fall very short of [Page 322] him in the first, and the better, my power of handling not being such, that I dare to offer at a brave peice, finely painted, and set off according to Art. I have therefore thought fit to borrow one of Estienno de Boitic, and such a one as shall honour and adorn all the rest of my work; namely, a discourse that he called, The voluntary Servitude: a peice writ in his younger years, by way of Essay, in honour of liberty a­gainst Tyrants, and which has since run through the hands of several Men of great Learning and Judgment, not without sin­gular, and merited commendation; for it is finely writ, and as full, as any thing can possibly be: Though a Man may confi­dently say it is far short of what he was able to do; and if in that more mature Age, wherein I had the happiness to know him, he had taken a design like this of mine, to commit his thoughts to writing, we should have seen a great many rare things, and such as would have gone very near to have rival'd the best Writings of Antiqui­ty: For in Natural parts especially, I know no Man comparable to him. But he has left nothing behind him, save this Treatise only, (and that too by chance, for I be­lieve he never saw it after it first went out of his hands,) and some Observations up­on that Edict of January, made Famous by our Civil Wars, which also shall elsewhere [Page 323] peradventure find a place. These were all I could recover of his Remains, I to whom, with so affectionate a remembrance, upon his Death-bed, he by his last Will be­queath'd his Library, and Papers, the lit­tle Book of his Works only excepted, which I committed to the Press. And this particular obligation I have to this Treatise of his, that it was the occasion of my first coming acquainted with him; for it was shew'd to me long before I had the good fortune to know him; and gave me the first knowledg of his name; proving so the first cause and foundation of a Friendship, which we afterward improv'd, and maintain'd, so long as God was pleas'd to continue us together, so perfect, invio­late, and entire, that certainly the like is hardly to be found in Story, and amongst the Men of this Age, there is no sign nor trace of any such thing in use; so much concurrence is requir'd to the building of such a one, that 'tis much, if Fortune bring it but once to pass in three Ages. There is nothing to which Nature seems so much to have enclin'd us, as to Society; and Aristotle says, that the good Legisla­tors had more respect to Friendship, than to Justice. Now the most supream point of its perfection in this:Perfect Friend­ship, what. for generally all those, that Pleasure, Profit, Publick or Private Interest, Create and Nourish, are [Page 324] so much the less Generous, and so much the less Friendships, by how much they mix another cause, and design, than sim­ple, and pure Friendship it self. Neither do the four Ancient Kinds, Natural, So­ciable, Hospitable and Venerian, either se­parately, or jointly, make up a true and perfect Friendship. That of Children to Parents is rather respect: Friendship being nourisht by Communication, which can­not by reason of the great disparity, be betwixt them: but would rather perhaps violate the duties of Nature; for neither are all the secret thoughts of Fathers fit to be communicated to Children, lest it be­get an indecent familiarity betwixt them; neither can the advices, and reproofs, which is one of the principal offices of Friend­ship, be properly perform'd by the Son to the Father. There are some Countries, where 'tis the Custom for Children to kill their Fathers; and others, where the Fa­thers kill'd their Children, to avoid being sometimes an impediment to one another in their designs; and moreover the expe­ctation of the one does naturally depend upon the ruine of the other. There have been great Philosophers who have made nothing of this tie of Nature, as Aristip­pus for one, who being prest home about the affection he ow'd to his Children, as being come out of him, presently fell to [Page 325] spit, saying, that that also came out of him, and that he did also breed Worms, and Lice; and that other, that Plutarch endeavoured to reconcile to his Brother, I make never the more account of him, said he, for coming out of the same hole. This name of Brother does indeed carry with it an amicable and affectionate sound, and for that reason, he and I call'd Brothers: but the complication of Interest, the divi­sion of Estates, and that the raising of the one, should be the undoing of the other, does strangely unnerve and slacken this fraternal tie: And Brothers pursuing their Fortune and Advancement by the same Path, 'tis hardly possible, but they must of necessity often justle, and hinder one another. Besides, why is it necessary that the correspondence of Manners, Parts and Inclinations, which beget these true and perfect Friendships, should always meet and concur in these relations. The Father and the Son may be of quite contrary hu­mours, and Brothers without any manner of Sympathy in their Natures. He is my Son, he is my Brother, or he and I are Cousin-germans; but he is Passionate, ill Natur'd, or a Fool. And moreoever, by how much these are Friendships, that the Law, and Natural Obligation, impose upon us; so much less is there of our own choice, and voluntary freedom. Whereas [Page 326] that voluntary liberty of ours, has nothing but that of Affection and Friendship, pro­perly its own. Not that I have not in my own person experimented all can pos­sibly be expected of that kind, having had the best, and most indulgent Father, even to an extream old Age, that ever was, and who was himself descended from a Family, for many Generations Famous, and Exem­plary for Brotherly Concord:

We are not here to bring the Love we bear to Women, though it be an Act of our own Choice, into comparison; nor rank it with the others; the Fire of which I confess,

is more active, more eager, and more sharp: but withal, 'tis more precipitous, fickle, moving and inconstant: a Feaver [Page 327] subject to Intermission, and Paroxisms, that has seized but on one part, one corner of the Building; whereas in Friendship, 'tis a general and universal Fire, but temperate, and equal, a constant establisht heat, all easie, and smooth, without poynancy or roughness. Moreover, in Love, 'tis no o­ther than Frantick Desire, to that which flies from us.

So soon as ever they enter into terms of Friendship, that is to say, into a concur­rence of Desires, it vanishes, and is gone, fruition destroys it, as having only a fleshly end, and such a one as is subject to Satie­ty. Friendship on the contrary, is enjoy'd proportionably, as it is desir'd, and only grows up, is nourisht and improves by enjoyment, as being of it self Spiritual, and the Soul growing still more perfect by practice. Under, and subsellious to this [Page 328] perfect Friendship, I cannot deny, but that the other vain Affections, have in my younger Years found some place in my thoughts, that I may say nothing of him, who himself confesses but too much in his Verses: So that I had both these Passions, but always so, that I could my self well e­nough distinguish them, and never in any degree of comparison with one another. The first maintaining its flight in so lofty and so brave a place, as with disdain to look down, and see the other flying at a far humbler pitch below. As concerning Mar­riage, besides, that it is a Covenant, the entrance into which, is only free, but the continuance in it, forc'd and compell'd, ha­ving another dependance, than that of our own Free-will, and a Bargain commonly contracted to other ends, there almost al­ways happens a Thousand Intricacies in it, to unravel, enough to break the Thred, and to divert the Current of a Lively Affe­ction: whereas Friendship has no manner of Business or Traffick with any but it self. Moreover, to say truth, the ordinary Ta­lent of Women, is not such, as is sufficient to maintain the Conference and Commu­nication required, to the support of this Conjugal Tie; nor do they appear to be endu'd with Constancy of Mind, to en­dure the pinch of so hard and durable a Knot. And doubtless, if without this, [Page 329] there could be such a free and voluntary fa­miliarity contracted, where not only the Souls might have this entire fruition, but the Bodies also might share in the Alli­ance, and a Man be engag'd throughout, the Friendship would certainly be more full and perfect; but it is without exam­ple, that this Sex could ever arrive at such perfection, and by the Ancient Schools, is wholy rejected; as also that other Grecian Licence is justly abhorr'd by our manners; which also, for having, according to their practice, a so necessary disparity of Age, and difference of Offices betwixt the Lo­vers, hold no more proportion with the perfect Union and Harmony that we here require, than the other.Cicero Tus. lib. 4. Quis est enim iste amor amicitiae? cur neque deformem adoles­centem quisquam amat, neque formosam se­nem? For what is that Love of Friend­ship? why does no one Love a deform'd Youth, or a comely Old Man? Neither will that very Picture that the Academy pre­sents of it, as I conceive, contradict me, when I say, that the first fury inspir'd by the Son of Venus into the heart of the Lo­ver, upon the sight of the Flower, and prime of a springing and blossoming Youth, to whom they allow all the Inso­lencies, and Passionate Attempts, that an immoderate Ardour can produce, was sim­ply founded upon an external Beauty, the [Page 330] false image of Corporal Generation; for upon the Soul it could not ground this Love, the sight of which, as yet lay con­ceal'd, was but now springing, and not of maturity to Blossom. Which fury, if it seiz'd upon a mean Courage, the means by which he preferr'd his suit, were rich Pre­sents, favour in advancement to Dignities, and such Trumpery, which they by no means approve: If on a more generous Soul, the pursuit was suitably generous, by Philosophical Instructions, Precepts to revere Religion, to obey the Laws, to die for the good of his Country; by examples of Valour, Prudence and Justice, the Lo­ver studying to render himself acceptable by the Grace and Beauty of his Soul, that of his Body being long since faded and de­cay'd, hoping by this mutual Society to e­stablish a more firm and lasting Contract. When this Courtship came to effect in due season, (for that which they do not re­quire in the Lover, namely, Leisure and Discretion in his pursuit, they strictly re­quire in the person Loved; forasmuch as he is to judg of an internal Beauty, of dif­ficult Knowledg, and obscure Discovery,) then there sprung in the Person Loved the desire of a spiritual Conception, by the mediation of a spiritual Beauty. This was the Principal, the Corporeal, Accidental, and Second Causes, are all the wrong [Page 331] side of the Lover. For this reason they prefer the Person Beloved, maintaining, that the Gods in like manner prefer him too, and very much blame the Poet Aes­chilus, for having, in the Loves of Achilles and Patroclus, given the Lovers part to A­chilles, who was in the first flower and pubescency of his Youth, and the hand­somest of all the Greeks. After this gene­ral Familiarity, and mutual Community of Thoughts, is once setled, supposing the soveraign and most worthy Part to preside and govern, and to perform its proper Of­fices, they say, that from thence great U­tility deriv'd, both to private and publick Concerns. That the force and power of Countries receiv'd their beginning from thence, and that it was the chiefest secu­rity of Liberty and Justice. Of which, the Salutiferous Loves of Harmonius and Aristogiton, is a good instance; and there­fore it is, that they call'd it Sacred and Di­vine, and do conceive, that nothing but the Violence of Tyrants, and the Baseness of the common People, is mimical to it: finally, all that can be said in favour of the Academy, is, that it was a Love which ended in Friendship; which also well e­nough agrees with the Stoical definition of Love.Cicero. Ibid. Amorem conatum esse amicitiae faci­endae ex pulchritudinis specie. That Love is a desire of contracting Friendship by the [Page 332] Beauty of the Object. I return to my own more just and true description.Cicero. Amic. Omnino a­micitiae, corroboratis jam confirmatis ingeniis, & aetatibus, judicandae sunt. Those are only to be reputed Friendships, that are fortified and confirmed by Judgment, and length of time. For the rest, which we commonly call Friends, and Friendships, are nothing but Acquaintance, and Familiarities, ei­ther occasionally contracted, or upon some design, by means of which, there happens some little intercourse betwixt our Souls: but in the Friendship I speak of, they mix and work themselves into one piece, with so universal a mixture, that there is no more sign of the Seame by which they were first conjoin'd. If a Man should impor­tune me to give a reason why I Lov'd him; I find it could no otherwise be exprest, than by making answer, because it was he, because it was I. There is, beyond I am able to say, I know not what inexplicable and fatal power that brought on this Uni­on. We sought one another long before we met, and by the Characters we heard of one another, which wrought more up­on our Affections, than in reason, meer reports should do, I think by some secret appointment of Heaven, we embra'd in our Names; and at our first meeting, which was accidentally at a great City entertain­ment, we found our selves so mutually [Page 333] taken with one another, so acquainted, and so endear'd betwixt our selves, that from thenceforward nothing was so near to us as one another. He writ an excellent La­tin Satyr, which I since Printed, wherein he excuses the precipitation of our intelli­gence, so suddenly came to perfection, saying, that being to have so short conti­nuance, as being begun so late, (for we were both full grown Men, and he some Years the older,) there was no time to lose; nor was ti'd to conform it self to the example of those slow and regular Friend­ships, that require so many precautions of a long praeliminary Conversation. This has no other Idea, than that of its self: this is no one particular consideration, nor two, nor three, nor four, nor a thousand; 'tis I know not what quintessence of all this mixture, which, seizing my whole Will, carried it to plunge and lose it self in his, and that having seiz'd his whole Will; brought it back with equal concur­rence and appetite, to plunge and lose it self in mine. I may truly say, lose, re­serving nothing to our selves, that was ei­ther his or mine. When Laelius, in the presence of the Roman Consuls, (who af­ter they had sentenc'd Tiberius Gracchus, prosecuted all those who had had any fa­miliarity with him also,) came to ask Ca­jus Blosius, (who was his chiefest Friend [Page 334] and Confident,) how much he would have done for him? And that he made Answer, All things. How! All things! said Laelius, And what if he had com­manded you to Fire our Temples? He would never have commanded me that, repli'd Blosius. But what if he had? said Laelius; Why, if he had, I would have Obey'd him, said the other. If he was so perfect a Friend to Gracchus, as the Histo­ries report him to have been, there was yet no necessity of offending the Consuls by such a bold confession, though he might still have retain'd the assurance he had of Gracchus his disposition. However, those who accuse this Answer as Seditious, do not well understand the Mystery; nor pre­suppose, as it was true, that he had Grac­chus his Will in his sleeve, both by the power of a Friend, and the perfect know­ledg he had of the Man. They were more Friends, than Citizens, and more Friends to one another, than either Friends or Ene­mies to their Country, or than Friends to Ambition and Innovation. Having abso­lutely given up themselves to one another, either held absolutely the reins of the o­thers Inclination, which also they govern'd by Vertue, and guided by the conduct of Reason, (which also without these, it had not been possible to do,) and therefore Blo­sius his Answer was such as it ought to be. [Page 335] If either of their Actions flew out of the handle, they were neither (according to my measure of Friendship,) Friends to one another; nor to themselves. As to the rest, this Answer carries no worse sound, than mine would do to one that should ask me, If your Will should com­mand you to Kill your Daughter, would you do it? And that I should make An­swer, that I would, for this expresses no consent to such an Act, forasmuch as I do not in the least suspect my own Will, and as little that of such a Friend. 'Tis not in the power of all the Eloquence in the World, to dispossess me of the certain­ty I have of the intentions and resolutions of mine; nay, no one Action of his, what face soever it might bear, could be presented to me, of which I could not presently, and at first sight, find out the moving cause: Our Souls have drawn so unanimously together, and we have with so mutual a confidence laid open the very bottom of our hearts to one anothers view, that I not only know his as well as my own; but should certainly in any concern of mine, have trusted my interest much more willingly with him, than with my self. Let no one therefore rank other common Friendships with such a one as this. I have had as much experience of these, as another, and of the most perfect [Page 336] of their kind: but I do not advise, that any should confound the Rules of the one, and the other, for they would then find themselves much deceiv'd. In those other ordinary Friendships, you are to walk with a Bridle in your hand, with Prudence and Circumspection, for in them the Knot is not so sure, that a Man may not half sus­pect it will slip: Love him (said Chilo) so, as if you were one Day to Hate him; and Hate him so, as you were one Day to Love him. A Precept, that though abo­minable in the Soveraign, and perfect Friendship which I intend, is nevertheless very sound, as to the practice of the ordi­nary ones, now in fashion, and to which the saying that Aristotle had so frequent in his Mouth, O my Friends, there is no Friend; may very fitly be apply'd. And this glo­rious Commerce of good Offices, Pre­sents and Benefits, by which other Friend­ships are supported and maintain'd, do not deserve so much as to be mention'd here; and is, by this concurrence and consent of Wills, totally taken away, and rendred of no use; as the kindness I have for my self, receives no increase, for any thing I re­lieve my self withal in time of need, (whatever the Stoicks say,) and as I do not find my self oblig'd to my self, for any Service I do my self: So the Union of such Friends, being really perfect, deprives [Page 337] them of all acknowledgment of such Du­ties, and makes them loath and banish from their Conversation, these words of Division, and Distinction, Benefit, Obli­gation, Acknowledgment, Entreaty, Thanks, and the like: All Things, Wills, Thoughts, Opinions, Goods, Wives, Chil­dren, Honours and Lives, being in effect, common betwixt them, and that absolute concurrence of Affections being no other than one Soul in two Bodies, (according to that very proper definition of Aristotle) they can neither lend, nor give any thing to one another. This is the reason why the Law-givers, to honour Marriage with some imaginary resemblance of this divine Alliance, interdict all gifts betwixt Man and Wife; inferring by that, that all should belong to each of them, and that they have nothing to divide; or to give. If, in the Friendship of which I speak, one could give to the other, the receiver of the Benefit would be the Man that oblig'd his Friend; for each of them contending, and above all things, studying how to be use­ful to one another, he that administers the occasion, is the liberal Man, in giving his Friend the satisfaction of doing that to­wards him, which above all things he does most desire. When the Philosopher Dioge­nes wanted Mony, he used to say, That he redemanded it of his Friends, not that [Page 338] he demanded it; and to let you see the ef­fectual practice of this, I will here pro­duce an ancient and a rare example; Euda­midas a Corinthian, had two Friends, Cha­rixenus a Sycionian, and Aretheus a Corin­thian: this Man coming to Die, being Poor, and his two Friends Rich, he made his Will after this manner; I Bequeath to Aretheus the Maintenance of my Mother, to support and provide for her in her Old Age; and to Charixenus I Bequeath the care of Marrying my Daughter, and to give her as good a Portion as he is able; and in case that one of these chance to Die, I hereby substitute the Surviver in his place. They who first saw this Will, made themselves very merry at the Con­tents: but the Executors being made ac­quainted with it, accepted the Legacies with very great content; and one of them, Charixenus, Dying within five Days after, and Aretheus by that means having the charge of both devolved solely to him: He nourisht that Old Woman with very great care and tenderness, and of five Ta­lents he had in Estate, he gave two and a half in Marriage with an only Daughter he had of his own, and two and a half in Marriage with the Daughter of Eudamidas, and in one and the same Day solemnized both their Nuptials. This Example is very full, if one thing were not to be objected, [Page 339] namely, the multitude of Friends: For the perfect Friendship I speak of, is indivi­sible, every one gives himself so entirely to his Friend, that he has nothing left to distribute to others: But on the contrary, is sorry, that he is not double, treble, or quadruple, and that he has not many Souls, and many Wills, to confer them all upon this one subject. Common Friendships will admit of division, one may Love the Beauty of this, the good Humour of that Person, the Liberty of a third, the Pater­nal Affection of a fourth, the Fraternal Love of a fifth, and so of the rest: But this Friendship that possesses the whole Soul, and there rules and sways with an absolute Soveraignty, can possibly admit of no Rival. If two at the same time should call to you for succour, to which of them would you run? Should they require of you contrary Offices; how could you serve them both? Should one commit a thing to your Secretary, that it were of importance to the other to know, how would you disingage your self? A singular and particular Friendship disunites and dis­solves all other Obligations whatsoever. The secret I have sworn not to reveal to any other, I may without Perjury commu­nicate to him who is not another, but my self. 'Tis Miracle enough certainly, for a Man to double himself, and those that talk [Page 340] of tripling, talk they know not of what. Nothing is extream, that has its like; and who shall presuppose, that of two, I Love one as much as the other, that they Love one another too, and Love me as much as I Love them, does multiply in Friendship, the most single and united of all things, and wherein moreover, one alone, is the hardest thing in the World to find. The remaining part of this story suits very well with what I said before; for Eudamidas as a Bounty and Favour, Bequeaths to his Friends a Legacy of employing themselves in his necessity; he leaves them Heirs to this liberality of his, which consists, in giving them the opportunity of conferring a benefit upon him; and doubtless, the force of Friendship is more eminently appa­rent in this act of his, than in that of A­retheus. In short, these are effects not to be imagin'd nor comprehended by such as have not experience of them, and which makes me infinitely honour and admire the Answer of that young Souldier to Cyrus, by whom being askt how much he would take for a Horse, with which he had won the prize of a Course, and whether he would exchange him for a Kingdom? No, truly Sir, said he, but I would give him with all my heart, to find a true Friend, could I find out any Man worthy of that relation. He did not say ill in saying, [Page 341] could I find: for though a Man may al­most every where meet with Men suffici­ently qualified for a superficial acquain­tance; yet in this, where a Man is to deal from the very bottom of his heart, without any manner of reservation, it will be requisite, that all the Wards and Springs be neatly and truly wrought, and perfect­ly sure. In Leagues that hold but by one end, we are only to provide against the im­perfections, that particularly concern that end. It can be of no importance to me, of what Religion my Physician or my Lawyer is, provided the one be a good Lawyer, and the other a good Physician; this consi­deration hath nothing in common with the Offices of Friendship; and I am of the same indifferency in the domestick acquain­tance, my Servants must necessarily con­tract with me; I never enquire, when I am to take a Footman, if he be Chaste, but if he be Diligent; and am not solicitous, if my Chairman be given to Gaming, as if he be Strong & Able; or if my Cook be a Swearer, or a good Cook. I do not how­ever take upon me to direct what other Men should do in the Government of their Families, there are enow that meddle e­nough with that: but only give an ac­count of my method in my own.

In Table talk, I prefer the Pleasant and Witty, before the Learned and the Grave: In Bed, Beauty before Modesty, and in com­mon Discourse, Eloquence, whether or no there be sincerity in that case. And, as he that was found astride upon a Hobby-horse, playing with his Children, entreated the person who had surpriz'd him in that po­sture, to say nothing of it, till himself came to be a Father, supposing, that the fondness that would then possess his own Soul, would render him a more equal Judg of such an Action: So I also could wish to speak to such as have had experience of what I say: though, knowing how re­mote a thing such a Friendship is from the common practice, and how rarely such are to be found, I despair of meeting with any one qualified to such a degree of compe­tency. For even these Discourses left us by Antiquity upon this subject, seem to me flat and low, in comparison of the sence I have of it, and in this particular, the ef­fects surpass the very precepts of Philoso­phy.

The Ancient Menander declar'd him to be happy, that had had the good Fortune to meet with but the shadow of a Friend; and doubtless he had good reason to say so, especially, if he spoke by experience: For in good earnest, if I compare all the rest of my Life, though thanks be to God, I have always past my time pleasantly e­nough, and at my ease, and the loss of such a Friend excepted, free from any grie­vous Affliction, and in great tranquility of Mind, having been contented with my na­tural and original Conveniences, without being sollicitous after others; if I should compare it all, I say, with the Four Years I had the happiness to enjoy the sweet So­ciety of this excellent Man; 'tis nothing but smoak, but an obscure and tedious Night, from the Day that I lost him.

[Page 344] I have only led a Sorrowful and Languish­ing Life; and the very Pleasures that pre­sent themselves to me, instead of admini­string any thing of Consolation, double my Affliction for his loss. We were halves throughout, and to that degree, that me­thinks, by out-living him, I defraud him of his part.

I was so accustomed to be always his se­cond in all places, and in all interests too, that methinks, I am no more than half a Man, and have but half a Being.

[Page 345] There is no Action or Imagination of mine, wherein I do not want him; I know that his Advice and Assistance would be useful to me: for as he surpast me by infinite de­grees in Vertue, and all other Accomplish­ments; so he also did in all Offices of Friendship.

But let us hear a little a Boy of Sixteen speak.

In this place I did once intend to have in­certed those Mesmoirs upon that famous Edict of January: But being I since find that they are already Printed, and with a malicious de­sign, by some who make it their business to mo­lest, and endeavour to subvert the state of our Government, not caring whether they mend and reform it, Apology for Esti­enne de Bo­etie. or no; and that they have confound­ed this Writing of his with others of their own Leaven, I desisted from that purpose: But that the Memory of the Father may not be interested, nor suffer with such, as could not come near hand to be acquainted with his Principles; I here give them truly to under­stand, that it was writ by him in his very green Years, and that by way of Exercise on­ly, as a common Theme that has been tum­bled and tost by a Thousand Writers. I make no question, but that he himself believ'd what [Page 347] he writ, being so Consciencious that way, that he would not so much as lie in jest: and do moreover know, that could it have been in his own Choice, he had rather have been Born at Venice, than at Soarlac, and he had reason: But he had another Maxime Soveraignly im­printed in his Soul, very Religiously to Obey, and submit to the Laws under which he was Born. There never was a better Citizen, more affectionate to his Country; nor a greater Enemy to all the Commotions and Innovati­ons of his time: So that he would doubtless much rather have employ'd his Talent to the extinguishing of those Civil Flames, than have added any Fewel to them: For he had a Mind fashion'd to the Model of better Ages. But in exchange of this Serious Piece, I will present you with another of a more Gay and Frolick Air, from the same Hand, and Writ at the same Age.

CHAP. XXVIII. Nine and Twenty Sonnets of Estien­ne de la Boetie, to Madam de Grammont Countess of Guisson.

MAdam, I offer to your Ladyship no­thing of mine, either because it is already yours, or because I find nothing in my Writings worthy of you: But I have a great desire that these Verses, into what part of the World soever they may travel, may carry your Name in the Front, for the Honour will accrue to them, by ha­ving the great Corisanda de Andonis for their safe Conduct: I conceive this present, Madam, so much the more proper for you, both by reason there are few Ladies in France who are so good Judges of Poetry, and make so good use of it as you do; as also, that there is none who can give it that Spirit and Life your Ladyship does, by that incomparable Voice Nature has added to your other perfections; you will find, Madam, that these Verses deserve your esteem, and will, I dare say, concur with me in this, that Gascony never yeilded more Invention, finer Expression, or that [Page 349] more evidence themselves to flow from a Masters hand. And be not Jealous, that you have but the remainder of what I Publisht some Years since, under the Name of Monsieur de Foix, your brave Kinsman; for certainly these have something in them more spritely, and luxuriant, as being Writ in a greener Youth, and enflam'd with the Noble Ardour that I will tell your Ladyship in your Ear. The other were Writ since, when he was a Suitor in the honour of his Wife, already relishing of I know not what Matrimonial Cold­ness: And for my part, I am of the same opinion with those, who hold, that Poesie appears no where so Gay, as in a wanton and irregular Subject.

These Nine and Twenty Sonnets that were inserted here, are since Printed with his other Works.

CHAP. XXIX. Of Moderation.

AS if we had an infectious Touch, we by our manner of handling corrupt things, that in themselves are laudable and good: We may grasp Vertue so hard, till [Page 350] it become Vicious, if we embrace it too streight, and with too violent a desire. Those who say, there is never any excess in Vertue, for as much as it is no Vertue, when it once becomes excess, only play upon words.

This is a subtle consideration in Philoso­phy. A Man may both be too much in Love with Vertue, and be excessive in a just Action. Holy Writ agrees with this, Be not Wiser than you should; but be so­berly Wise. 'Tis like he means Henry the 3d of France. I have known a great Man prejudice the Opinion Men had of his De­votion, by pretending to be devout be­yond all Examples of others of his condi­tion. I Love temperate and moderate Natures. An immoderate Zeal, even to that which is good, though it does not of­fend, does astonish me; and puts me to study what Name to give it. Neither the Mother of Pausanias, who was the first in­structer of her Sons process; and threw the first stone towards his Death: Nor Posthumus the Dictator, who put his Son to Death, whom the Ardour of Youth had fortunately pusht upon the Enemy a [Page 351] little more advanc't than the rest of his Squadron, do appear to me so just as strange; and I should neither advise, nor like to follow so Savage a Vertue, and that costs so dear. The Archer that shoots over, misses as well as he that falls short, and 'tis equally troublesome to my sight, to look up at a great Light, and to look down into a dark Abyss. Callicles in Pla­to, says, That the extremity of Philoso­phy is hurtful, and advises not to dive in­to it beyond the limits of Profit: that ta­ken moderately, it is pleasant and useful: but that in the end, it renders a Man Brui­tish and Vicious: A Contemner of Religi­on, and the common Laws, an Enemy to Civil Conversation, and all Humane Plea­sures, incapable of all Publick Admini­stration, unfit either to assist others, or to relieve himself, and a fit Object for all sorts of Injuries and Affronts, without remedy, or satisfaction: He says true; for in its Excess, it enslaves our Natural Freedom, and by an impertinent subtilty, leads us out of the fair and beaten way that Nature has plain'd out for us. The Love we bear to our Wives is very lawful, and yet The­ology thinks fit to curb and restrain it. As I remember, I have read in one place of St. Thomas of Aquin, where he condemns Marriages within any of the forbidden de­grees, for this reason, amongst others, that [Page 352] there is some danger, lest the Friendship a Man bears to such a Woman, should be immoderate; for if the Conjugal Affecti­on be full and perfect betwixt them, as it ought to be, and that it be over and above surcharg'd with that of Kindred too, there is no doubt, but such an addition will car­ry the Husband beyond the bounds of rea­son. Those Sciences that regulate the manners of Men, Divinity and Philoso­phy, will have a saying to every thing. There is no Action so private that can e­scape their Inspection and Jurisdiction, but they are best taught, who are best able to censure and curb their own Liberty. 'Tis the Women that expose their Nudities o­ver freely upon the account of Pleasure, though in the Necessities of Physick and Chyrurgery, they are more shy, and more reserv'd. I will therefore in their behalf teach the Husbands, that is, such as are too extravagant and sensual in the exercise of the Matrimonial Duty, this Lesson, that the very Pleasures they enjoy in the Socie­ty of their Wives, are Reproachable, if immoderate, and that a Licentious and Ri­otous abuse of them, are Faults▪ as re­provable here, as illegitimate and adulte­rous Practices. Those Immodest and De­bauch'd Tricks and Postures, that the first Ardour suggests to us in this Affair, are not only indecently, but inconveniently [Page 353] practis'd upon our Wives. Let them at least learn Impudency from another hand; they are always ready enough for our Bu­siness, and I for my part always went the plain way to work. Marriage is a Solemn and Religious Tie, and therefore the plea­sure we extract from thence, should be a sober and serious delight, and mixt with a certain kind of Gravity; it should be a kind of discreet and conscientious pleasure. And being that the chief end of it is Ge­neration, some make a Question, whether when Men are out of hopes of that fruit, as when they are superannuated, or alrea­dy with Child, it be lawful to lie with our Wives. 'Tis Homicide, according to Pla­to, and certain Nations, (the Mahometan, amongst others,) Abominate all Conjun­ction with Women with Child, and others also, with those who are Unclean. Zeno­bia would never admit her Husband for more than one Encounter, after which, she left him to his own swing for the whole time of her Conception, and not, till af­ter that, would any more receive him: A brave Example of Conjugal Continency. It was doubtless from some Lascivious Po­et, and one that himself was in great di­stress for a little of this sport, that Plato borrowed this Story; that Jupiter was one Day so hot upon his Wife, that not having so much patience, as till she could get to [Page 354] the Couch, he threw her upon the Floor, where the vehemency of pleasure made him forget the great and important Reso­lutions he had but newly taken with the rest of the Gods, in his Celestial Council; and to brag, that he had had as good a Bout, as when he got her Maidenhead un­known to their Parents. The Kings of Persia were wont to invite their Wives to the beginning of their Festivals; but when the Wine began to work in good earnest, and that they were to give the Reins to pleasure, they sent them back to their pri­vate Appartments, that they might not participate of their immoderate Lust, send­ing for other Women in their stead, with whom they were not oblig'd to so great a decorum of respect. All Pleasures, and all sorts of Gratifications, are not properly and fitly conferr'd upon all sorts of Per­sons. Epaminondas had Committed a young Man for certain Debauches; for whom Pelopidas mediated, that at his re­quest he might be set at liberty, which notwithstanding the great intelligence be­twixt them, Epaminondas resolutely deny'd to him, but granted it at the first word to a Wench of his, that made the same inter­cession; saying, that it was a Gratification fit for such a one as she, but not for a Cap­tain. Sophocles being joint Praetor with Pe­ricles, seeing accidentally a fine Boy pass [Page 355] by: O what a delicate Boy is that, said he; I, that were a Prize, answered Pericles, for any other, than a Praetor, who ought not only to have his Hands, but his Eyes Chaste too. Elius Verus the Emperour, answer­ed his Wife, who Reproach'd him with his Love to other Women, that he did it upon a Conscientious account, forasmuch as Marriage was a Name of Honour, and Dignity, not of Wanton and Lascivious Desire. And our Ecclesiastical History pre­serves the Memory of that Woman in great Veneration, who parted from her Husband, because she would not comply with his indecent and inordinate Desire. In fine, there is no so just and lawful plea­sure, wherein the Intemperance and Ex­cess, is not to be Condemn'd. But, to speak the truth, is not Man a most misera­ble Creature the while? It is scarce, by his Natural Condition, in his power to taste one Pleasure pure and entire; and yet must he be contriving Doctrines and Pre­cepts, to Curtal that little he has; he is not yet Wretched enough, unless by Art and Study, he Augment his own Misery.

[Page 356]Humane Wisdom makes as ill use of her Talent, when she exercises it in rescinding from the number and sweetness of those Pleasures, that are naturally our due, as she employs it favourably, and well, in Artificially disguising and tricking out the ills of Life, to alleviate the Sense of them. Had I rul'd the Roast, I should have taken another, and more natural course, which, to say the truth, is both Commodious and Sacred, and should peradventure have been able to have limited it too. Notwithstand­ing that both our Spiritual and Corporal Physicians, as by compact betwixt them­selves, can find no other way to cure, nor other Remedy for the Infirmities of the Body, and the Soul, than what is oft times worse than the Disease, by torment­ing us more, and by adding to our Misery and Pain. To this end, Watchings, Fast­ings, Hair-shirts, remote and solitary Ba­nishments, perpetual Imprisonments, Whips, and other Afflictions, have been introduc'd amongst Men: But so, that they should carry a sting with them, and be re­al Afflictions indeed; and not fall out so, as it once did to one Gallio, who having been sent an Exile into the Isle of Lesbos, news was not long after brought to Rome, that he there Liv'd as Merry, as the Day was long; and that what had been enjoin'd him for a Penance, turn'd to his greatest [Page 357] Pleasure and Satisfaction: Whereupon the Senate thought fit to recall him home to his Wife and Family, and confine him to his own House, to accommodate their Pu­nishment to his feeling and apprehension. For to him whom Fasting would make more Healthful and more Spritely, and to him to whose Pallat Fish were more ac­ceptable than Flesh, it would be no proper, nor sanative Receipt; no more than in the other sort of Physick, where the Drugs have no effect upon him who swallows them with Appetite and Pleasure. The Bitterness of the Potion, and the Abhor­rency of the Patient, are necessary Cir­cumstances to the Operation. The Na­ture that would eat Rhubarb like Butter'd Turnips, would frustrate the use and ver­tue of it; it must be something to trouble and disturb the Stomach, that must Purge and Cure it; and here the common Rule, that things are Cur'd by their contraries, fails; for in this, one ill is Cur'd by ano­ther. This Belief a little resembles that other so Ancient one, of thinking to Gra­tifie the Gods and Nature, by Self-Mur­ther; an Opinion universally once receiv'd in all Religions, and to this Day retain'd in some. For in these later times wherein our Fathers Liv'd, Amurath at the taking of Istmus, Immolated Six Hundred Young Greeks to his Fathers Soul, in the nature of [Page 358] a propitiatory Sacrifice for the Sins of the Deceased. And in those new Countries discover'd in this Age of ours, which are pure, and Virgins yet, in comparison of ours, this practice is in some measure every where receiv'd. All their Idols reek with Humane Blood, not without various Ex­amples of Horrid Cruelty. Some they Burn alive, and half Broil'd, take them off the Coals to tear out their Hearts and En­trails; others, even Women they fley a­live, and with their Bloody Skins Clothe and Disguise others. Neither are we with­out great Examples of Constancy and Re­solution, in this Affair: The poor Souls that are to be Sacrific'd, Old Men, Wo­men and Children, going some Days be­fore to beg Alms for the Offering of their Sacrifice, and so Singing and Dancing, present themselves to the Slaughter. The Ambassadors of the King of Mexico, set­ting out to Fernando Cortez the Power and Greatness of their Master, after having told him, that he had Thirty Vassals, of which, each was able to Raise an Hundred Thousand Fighting Men, and that he kept his Court in the fairest and best Fortified City under the Sun, added at last, that he was oblig'd Yearly to offer to the Gods Fifty Thousand Men. And it is confident­ly affirm'd, that he maintain'd a continual War, with some Potent Neighbouring [Page 359] Nations, not only to keep the Young Men in Exercise, but principally, to have wherewithal to furnish his Sacrifices with his Prisoners of War. At a certain Town in another place, for the welcome of the said Cortez, they Sacrificed Fifty Men at once. I will tell you this one Tale more, and I have done; Some of these People being Beaten by him, sent to Complement him, and to Treat with him of a Peace, whose Messengers carried him Three sorts of Presents, which they presented in these terms: Behold, Lord, here are Five Slaves, if thou beest a Furious God that feedeth upon Flesh and Blood, eat these, and we will bring thee more; if thou beest an Af­fable God, behold here Incence and Fea­thers; but if thou beest a Man, take these Fowls and these Fruits, that we have brought thee.

CHAP. XXX. Of Canniballs.

WHen Pyrrhus King of Epire In­vaded Italy, having view'd and and consider'd the Order of the Army, the Romans sent out to meet him; I know [Page 360] not, said he, what kind of Barbarians (for so the Greeks call'd all other Nations) these may be; but the Discipline of this Army that I see, has nothing of Barbarity in it. As much said the Greeks of that Flaminius brought into their Country; and Philip beholding from an Eminence, the Order and the distribution of the Roman Camp, led into his Kingdom by Publius Sulpicius Galba, spake to the same effect. By which it appears, how Cautious Men ought to be, of taking things upon trust from Vul­gar Opinion, and that we are to judg by the Eye of Reason, and not from common report. I have long had a Man in my House, that Liv'd Ten or Twelve Years in the new World, discover'd in these lat­ter Days, and in that part of it where Vil­legaignon Landed, which he call'd Antar­tick France. This Discovery of so vast a Country seems to be of very great Consi­deration; and we are not sure, that here­after there may not be another, so many wiser Men than we have been deceiv'd in this. I am afraid our Eyes are bigger than our Bellies, and that we have more Curi­osity than Capacity: for we grasp at all, but catch nothing but Air. Plato brings in Solon, telling a Story, that he had heard from the Priests of Sais in Egypt, that of Old, and before the Deluge, there was a great Island call'd Atlantis, scituate direct­ly [Page 361] at the Mouth of the Streight of Gibral­ter, which contain'd more Ground, than both Africk and Asia put together; and that the Kings of that Country, who not only possest that Isle, but extended their Dominion so far into the Continent, that they had a Country as large as Africk to Egypt, and as long as Europe to Tuscany, attempted to Encroach even upon Asia, and to subjugate all the Nations that Bor­ders upon the Mediterranian Sea, as far as the Gulf of Mare Maggiore; and to that effect, over-ran all Spain, the Gaules, and Italy, so far, as to penetrate into Greece, where the Athenians stopt the Torrent of their Arms: but sometimes after, both the Athenians, they, and their Island, were swallowed by the Flood.

It is very likely, that this Violent Irrup­tion and Inundation of Water, made a wonderful Change, and strange Alteration, in the Habitations of the Earth: As 'tis said, that the Sea then divided Sicily from Italy:

[Page 362] Cyprus from Suria, the Isle of Negrepont, from the firm Land of Beacia, and else­where, united Lands that were separate before, by filling up the Channel betwixt them, with Sand and Mud;

But there is no great appearance, that this Isle was this new World so lately disco­ver'd: for that almost toucht upon Spain, and it were an incredible effect of an In­undation, to have tumbled so prodigious a Mass, above Twelve Hundred Leagues: Besides, that our Modern Navigators have already almost discover'd it to be no Island, but firm Land, and Continent, with the East-Indies on the one side, and with the Lands under the two Poles on two others; or if it be separate from them, 'tis by so narrow a Streight, and so incon­siderable a Channel, that it never the more deserves the Name of an Island for that. It should seem, that in this great Body, there are two sorts of Motions, the one Natural, and the other Febrifick, as there are in ours. When I consider the Impres­sion that our River of Dordoigne has made [Page 363] in my time, on the right Bank of its des­cent, and that in Twenty Years it has gain'd so much, and undermin'd the Foun­dations of so many Houses, I perceive it to be an extraordinary Agitation: for had it always follow'd this Course, or were here­after to do it, the prospect of the World would be totally chang'd. But Rivers al­ter their Course, sometimes beating against the one side, and sometimes the other, and sometimes quietly keeping the Channel. I do not speak of sudden Inundations, the causes of which every Body understands. In Medoc, by the Sea-shore, the Sieur d' Arsac my Brother, sees an Estate, he had there, Buried under the Sands which the Sea Vomits before it: where the tops of some Houses are yet to be seen, and where his Rents and Revenues are converted into pitiful Barren Pasturage. The Inhabitants of which place affirm, That of late Years the Sea has driven so vehemently upon them, that they have lost above Four Leagues of Land. These Sands are her Harbingers. And we now see great heaps of moving Sand, that march half a League before her.

The other Testimony from Antiquity, to which some would apply this discovery of the new World, is in Aristotle; at least, if that little Book of unheard of Miracles be his. He there tells us, That certain Carthagini­ans, [Page 364] having crost the Atlantick Sea with­out the Streight of Gibralter, and Sailed a very long time, discover'd at last, a great and fruitful Island, all cover'd over with Wood, and Water'd with several broad and deep Rivers; far remote from all firm Land, and that they, and others after them, allur'd by the gratitude and fertility of the Soil, went thither with their Wives and Children, and began to Plant a Colony: But the Senate of Carthage visibly percei­ving their People by little and little, to grow thin, Issu'd out an express Prohibiti­on, That no one, upon pain of Death, should Transport themselves thither; and also drove out these new Inhabitants; fear­ing, 'tis said, lest in process of time, they should so multiply, as to supplant them themselves, and Ruine their State: But this Relation of Aristotles, does no more agree with our new found Lands, than the other. This Man that I have is a plain ignorant Fellow, and therefore the more likely to tell Truth: For your better bred sort of Men, are much more Curious in their Observation, 'tis true, and discover a great deal more, but then they gloss upon it, and to give the greater weight to what they deliver, and allure your Belief, they cannot forbear a little to alter the Story; they never represent things to you simply as they are, but rather as they appear'd to [Page 365] them, or as they would have them appear to you, and to gain the reputation of Men of Judgment, and the better to induce your Faith, are willing to help out the Business with something more than is re­ally true, of their own Invention. Now in this Case, we should either have a Man of Irreproachable Veracity; or so Simple, that he has not wherewithal to Contrive, and to give a Colour of Truth to False Relations, and that can have no Ends in Forging an Untruth. Such a one is mine; and besides, the little suspicion the Man lies under, he has divers times shew'd me several Sea-men, and Merchants, that at the same time went the same Voyage. I shall therefore content my self with his In­formation, without enquiring what the Cosmographers say to the Business. We should have Maps to trace out to us the particular places where they have been; but for having had this advantage over us, to have seen the Holy Land, they would have the priviledg forsooth, to tell us Sto­ries of all the other parts of the World be­sides. I would have every one Write what he knows, and as much as he knows, but no more; and that not in this only, but in all other Subjects: For such a Person may have some particular Knowledg and Experience of the nature of such a River; or such a Fountain; that as to other [Page 366] things, knows no more, than what every Body does, and yet to keep a clutter with this little Pittance of his, will undertake to Write the whole Body of Physicks: A Vice from whence great Inconveniences derive their Original.

Now, to return to my Subject, I find, that there is nothing Barbarous and Sa­vage in this Nation, by any thing that I can gather, excepting, That every one gives the Title of Barbarity to every thing that is not in use in his own Country: As indeed we have no other level of Truth and Reason, than the Example and Idea of the Opinions and Customs of the place wherein we Live. There is always the true Religion, there the perfect Govern­ment, and the most exact and accomplish'd Usance of all things. They are Savages at the same rate, that we say Fruits are wild, which Nature produces of her self, and by her own ordinary progress; where­as in truth, we ought rather to call those wild, whose Natures we have chang'd by our Artifice, and diverted from the com­mon Order. In those, the Genuine, most useful and natural Vertues and Properties, are Vigorous and Spritely, which we have help'd to Degenerate in these, by accomo­dating them to the pleasure of our own Corrupted Palate. And yet for all this, our Taste confesses a flavor and delicacy, [Page 367] excellent even to Emulation of the best of ours, in several Fruits those Countries a­bound with, without Art or Culture; nei­ther is it reasonable, that Art should gain the Preheminence of our great and pow­erful Mother Nature. We have so express'd her with the additional Ornaments and Graces, we have added to the Beauty and Riches of her own Works, by our Inven­tions, that we have almost Smother'd and Choak'd her; and yet in other places, where she shines in her own purity, and proper lustre, she strangely baffles and dis­graces all our vain and frivolous At­tempts.

Our utmost endeavours cannot arrive at so much as to imitate the Nest of the least of Birds, its Contexture, Quaintness and Convenience: Not so much as the Web of a Contemptible Spider. All things, says Plato, are produc'd either by Nature, by [Page 368] Fortune, or by Art; the greatest and most beautiful by the one, or the other of the former, the least and the most imperfect by the last. These Nations then seem to me to be so far Barbarous; as having re­ceiv'd but very little form and fashion from Art and Humane Invention, and conse­quently, not much remote from their Ori­ginal Simplicity. The Laws of Nature however govern them still, not as yet much vitiated with any mixture of ours: But in such Purity, that I am sometimes troubled we were no sooner acquainted with these People, and that they were not discovered in those better times, when there were Men much more able to judg of them, than we are. I am sorry that Lycurgus and Plato had no knowledg of them; for to my apprehension, what we now see in those Natives, does not only surpass all the Images with which the Po­ets have adorn'd the Golden Age, and all their Inventions in feigning a Happy Estate of Man; but moreover, the Fancy, and even the Wish and Desire of Philosophy it self; so Native, and so pure a Simplicity, as we by Experience see to be in them, could never enter into their Imagination, nor could they ever believe that Humane Society could have been maintained with so little Artifice; should I tell Plato, that it is a Nation wherein there is no manner [Page 369] of Traffick, no knowledg of Letters, no science of Numbers, no name of Magi­strate, nor Politick Superiority; no use of Service, Riches or Poverty, no Contracts, no Successions, no Dividents, no Proprie­ties, no Employments, but those of Lei­sure, no respect of Kindred, but common, no Cloathing, no Agriculture, no Mettal, no use of Corn or Wine, and where so much as the very words that signifie, Ly­ing, Treachery, Dissimulation, Avarice, Envy, Detraction and Pardon, were ne­ver heard of: How much would he find his Imaginary Republick short of his Per­fection?

As to the rest, they Live in a Country, beautiful and pleasant to Miracle, and so Temperate withal, as my intelligence in­forms me, that 'tis very rare to hear of a sick Person, and they moreover assure me, that they never saw any of the Natives, either Paralitick, Blear-eyed, Toothless, or Crooked with Age. The scituation of their Country is all along by the Sea­shore, and enclos'd on the other side to­wards the Land, with great and high Mountains, having about a Hundred [Page 370] Leagues in breadth between.. They have great store of Fish and Flesh, that have no resemblance to those of ours: which they Eat without any other Cookery, than plain Boiling, Roasting, and Broiling. The first that carried a Horse thither, though in se­veral other Voyages he had contracted an acquaintance and familiarity with them, put them into so terrible a Fright, that they Kill'd him with their Arrows before they could come to discover who he was. Their Buildings are very long, and of ca­pacity to hold Two or Three Hundred People, made of the Barks of tall Trees, rear'd with one end upon the ground, and leaning to, and supporting one another, at the top, like some of our Barns, of which, the Covering hangs down to the very ground, and serves for the side Walls. They have Wood so hard, that they cleave it into Swords, and make Grills of it to Broil their Meat. Their Beds are of Cot­ton, hung swinging in the Roof, like our Seamens Hammocks, for every one one, for the Wives lie apart from their Hus­bands. They rise with the Sun, and so soon as they are up, Eat for all Day, for they have no more Meals but that: They do not then Drink, (as Suidas reports of some other People of the East, that never Drinks at their Meals,) but Drink very of­ten all Day after, and sometimes to a rou­sing [Page 371] pitch. Their Drink is made of a cer­tain Root, and is of the Colour of our Claret; which they never Drink but Luke-warm. It will keep above two or three Days, has a quick Taste, is nothing Heady, but very comfortable to the Sto­mach, loosning to Strangers, and a very pleasant Beverage to such as are us'd to it. They make use, instead of Bread, of a certain White Matter, like Coriander Com­fits; I have tasted of it, the taste is sweet, and a little flat. All the whole Day is spent in Dancing. Their Young Men go a Hunting after Wild Beasts with Bows and Arrows, and one part of their Wo­men are employ'd in preparing their Drink the while, which is their chief Employ­ment. There are some of their Old Men, who in the Morning before they fall to Eating, Preach to the whole Family, as they walk to and again from the one end of the House to the other, several times repeating the same Sentence, till they have finish'd their turn, (for their Houses are at least a Hundred Yards long,) Valour towards their Enemies, and Love towards their Wives, being the two heads of his Discourse, never failing in the close, to put them in mind, that they have so much the greater obligation to it, because they provide them their Drink warm, and well order'd. The fashion of their Beds, Ropes, [Page 372] Swords, and Wooden Bracelets, they tie about their Wrists, when they go to Fight, and great Canes, boar'd hollow at one end, by the Sound of which they keep the Ca­dance of their Dances, are to be seen in several places, and amongst others, at my House. They shave all their hairy parts, and much more neatly than we, without other Razor, than one of Wood, or of Stone. They believe the Immortality of the Soul, and that those who have Merit­ed well of the Gods, are Lodg'd in that part of Heaven where the Sun rises; and the Accursed in the West. They have I know not what kind of Priests, and Pro­phets, that very rarely present themselves to the People, having their abode in the Mountains. At their arrival there is a great Feast, and solemn Assembly of ma­ny Villages made: that is, all the Neigh­bring Families, for every House, as I have describ'd it, makes a Village, and are about a French League distant from one another. This Prophet declaims to them in publick, exhorting them to Vertue, and their Du­ty: But all their Ethicks are terminated in these two Articles, of Resolution in War, and Affection to their Wives. This also Prophesies to them Events to come, and the Issues they are to expect from their Enterprizes, prompts them to, or diverts them from War: But let him look to't; [Page 373] for if he fail in his Divination, and any thing happen otherwise, than he has fore­told, he is cut into a thousand pieces, if he be caught, and Condemn'd for a false Prophet; and for that reason, if any of them finds himself mistaken, he is no more to be heard of. Divination is a gift of God, and therefore to abuse it, ought to be a Punishable Imposture. Amongst the Scy­thians, where their Diviners fail'd in the promis'd effect, they were laid, Bound Hand and Foot, upon Carts loaden with Furs and Bavins, and drawn with Oxen, on which they were Burnt to Death. Such as only meddle with things subject to the conduct of Humane Capacity, are excusa­ble in doing the best they can: But those other sort of People that comes to delude us, with assurances of an extraordinary Fa­culty, beyond our understanding: ought they not to be Punish'd, when they do not make good the effect of their Promise, and for the temerity of their Imposture? They have continual War with the Nati­ons that Live further within the main Land, beyond their Mountains, to which they go Naked, and without other Arms, than their Bows, and Wooden-Swords, fa­shion'd at one end like the head of a Jave­lin. The Obstinacy of their Battels is wonderful, and never end without great ef­fusion [Page 374] of Blood: For as to running away, they know not what it is. Every one for a Trophy brings home the head of an E­nemy he has Kill'd, which he fixes over the Door of his House. After having a long time treated their Prisoners very well, and given them all the Regalia's they can think of, he to whom the Prisoner belongs, in­vites a great Assembly of his Kindred, and Friends, who being come, he ties a Rope to one of the Arms of the Pri­soner, of which, at a distance, out of his reach, he holds the one end himself, and gives to the Friend he Loves best, the other Arm to hold after the same manner; which being done, they two in the pre­sence of all the Assembly, dispatch him with their Swords. After that, they Roast him, Eat him amongst them, and send some Chops to their absent Friends, which nevertheless they do not do, as some think, for Nourishment, as the Scythians ancient­ly did, but as a representation of an ex­tream Revenge; as will appear by this, That having observ'd the Portugals, who were in League with their Enemies, to in­flict another sort of Death upon any of them they took Prisoners: Which was, to set them up to the Girdle in the Earth, to shoot at the remaining part till it was stuck full of Arrows, and then to hang them: They that thought those People of the other [Page 375] World, (as those who had sown the know­ledg of a great many Vices amongst their Neighbours, and who were much greater Masters in all sorts of Mischief than they,) did not exercise this sort of Revenge with­out Mystery, and that it must needs be more painful than theirs; and so began to leave their old way, and to follow this. I am not sorry that we should here take notice of the Barbarous Horrour of so Cruel an Action, but that seeing so clearly into their faults, we should be so blind in our own: For I conceive, there is more Barbarity in Eating a Man Alive, than when he is Dead; in tearing a Body Limb from Limb, by Wracks and Torments, that is yet in perfect Sense, in Roasting it by degrees, causing it to be bit and worri­ed by Dogs and Swine, (as we have not only read, but lately seen; not amongst inveterate and mortal Enemies, but Neigh­bours, and fellow Citizens, and which is worse, under colour of Piety and Religi­on,) than to Roast, and Eat him after he is Dead. Chrysippus, and Zeno, the Two Heads of the Stoical Sect, were of Opi­nion, That there was no hurt in making use of our Dead Carcasses, in what kind soever, for our necessity, and in feeding upon them too; as our Ancestors, who being Besieged by Caesar in the City Alexia, resolv'd to sustain the Famine of the Siege, [Page 376] with the Bodies of their Old Men, Women, and other Persons, who were incapable of bearing Arms.

And the Physicians make no Bones of employing it to all sorts of use, that is, either to apply it outwardly, or to give it inwardly for the health of the Patient: but there never was any Opinion so irre­gular, as to excuse Treachery, Disloyalty, Tyranny and Cruelty, which are our fa­miliar Vices. We may then call these People Barbarous, in respect to the Rules of Reason: but not in respect to our selves; who in all sorts of Barbarity ex­ceed them. Their Wars are throughout Noble and Generous, and carry as much Excuse and fair Pretence, as their Humane Disease is capable of; having with them no other foundation, than the sole Jealou­sie of Vertue. Their Disputes are not for the Conquest of new Lands, those they already possess, being so fruitful by Na­ture, as to supply them without Labour or Concern, with all things necessary, in such abundance, that they have no need [Page 377] to enlarge their Borders. And they are moreover happy in this, that they only covet so much as their natural necessities require: all beyond that, is superfluous to them: Men of the same Age generally call one another Brothers, those who are younger, Sons and Daughters, and the old Men are Fathers to all. These leave to their Heirs in common this full possession of Goods, without any manner of Divisi­on, or other Title, than what Nature be­stows upon her Creatures, in bringing them into the World. If their Neigbours pass over the Mountains, and come to assault them, and obtain a Victory, all the Victors gain by it is Glory only, and the advantage of having prov'd themselves the better in Valour and Vertue: for they ne­ver meddle with the Goods of the Con­quer'd, but presently return into their own Country, where they have no want of any thing necessary; nor of this greatest of all Goods, to know happily how to enjoy their Condition, and to be Content. And these in turn do the same. They demand of their Prisoners no other Ransome, than acknowledgment that they are overcome: but there is not one found in an Age, who will not rather choose to Die, than make such a Confession, or either by Word or Look, recede from the entire Grandeur of an in­vincible Courage. There is not a Man a­mongst [Page 378] them, who had not rather be Kill'd and Eaten, than so much as to open his Mouth to entreat he may not. They use them with all Liberality and Freedom, to the end their Lives may be so much the dearer to them; but frequently entertain them withal with Menaces of their ap­proaching Death, of the Torments they are to suffer, of the preparations are ma­king in order to it, of the mangling their Limbs, and of the Feast is to be made, where their Carcasses is to be the only Dish. All which they do, to no other end, but only to extort some gentle or submissive word from them, or to Fright them so as to make them run away; to obtain this advantage, that they were ter­rified, and that their Constancy was sha­ken; and indeed, if rightly taken, it is in this point only, that a true Victory does consist.

The Hungarians a very Warlike People, never pretended further than to reduce the Enemy to their Discretion; for having forc'd this Confession from them, they let [Page 379] them go without Injury, or Ransome, ex­cepting, at the most, to make them en­gage their word, never to bear Arms a­gainst them again. We have several ad­vantages over our Enemies that are bor­rowed, and not truly our own; 'tis the quality of a Porter, and no effect of Ver­tue, to have stronger Arms and Legs, 'tis a Dead and Corporeal quality to be Active, 'tis an Exploit of Fortune to make our E­nemy stumble, or to dazle him with the light of the Sun; 'tis a trick of Science and Art, and that may happen in a mean base Fellow, to be a good Fencer. The Estimate and Valour of a Man consist in the Heart, and in the Will, there his true Honour Lives. Valour is Stability, not of Legs, and Arms, but of the Courage, and the Soul; it does not lie in the Va­lour of our Horse, or our Arms: but in our own. He that falls obstinate in his Courage. Si succiderit de genu pugnat. Seneca Epist. If his Legs fail him, Fight upon his Knees. He who for any danger of apparent Death, abates nothing of his assurance, who Dy­ing, does yet dart at his Enemy a fierce and disdainful Look, is overcome not by us, but by Fortune, he is Kill'd, not Con­quer'd; the most Valiant, and sometimes the most Unfortunate. There are also De­feats Triumphant to Emulation of Victo­ries. Neither durst those Four Sister-Victo­ries, [Page 380] the fairest the Sun ever beheld, of Sa­lamis, Platea, Mycall and Sycyly, ever op­pose all their united Glories, to the single Glory of the Discomfiture of King Leoni­das, and his Army, at the Pass of Thermo­pyle. Whoever ran with a more glorious Desire, and greater Ambition, to the win­ning, than the Captain Ischolas to the cer­tain loss of a Battel. Who could have found out a more subtle Invention to se­cure his safety, than he did to assure his Ruine: He was set to defend a certain Pass of Peloponesus against the Arcadians, which, considering the nature of the place, and the inequality of Forces, finding it ut­terly impossible for him to do, and con­cluding, that all who were presented to the Enemy, must certainly be left upon the place; and on the other side, reputing it unworthy of his own Vertue, and Mag­nanimity, and of the Lacedemonian name to fail in any part of his Duty, he chose a mean betwixt these two Extreams, after this manner; The Youngest and most Active of his Men, he would preserve for the Service and Defence of their Country, and therefore sent them back; and with the rest, whose loss would be of less con­sideration, he resolv'd to make good the Pass, and with the death of them, to make the Enemy Buy their Entry as dear as pos­sibly he could: as it also fell out, for be­ing [Page 381] presently Environ'd on all sides by the Arcadians, after having made a great Slaughter of the Enemy, he, and his, were all cut in pieces. Is there any Trophy de­dicated to the Conquerours, which is not much more due to these who were over­come. The part that true Conquering is to play, lies in the Encounter, not in the coming off; and the Honour of Vertue consists in Fighting, not in Subduing.

But to return to my Story, these Priso­ners are so far from discovering the least Weakness, for all the Terrors can be repre­sented to them, that, on the contrary, du­ring the two or three Months, that they are kept, they always appear with a chear­ful Countenance; importune their Ma­sters to make haste to bring them to the Test, Defie, Rail at them, and Reproach them with Cowardize, and the number of Battels they have lost against those of their Country. I have a Song made by one of these Prisoners, wherein he bids them come all, and Dine upon him, and wel­come, for they shall withal Eat their own Fa­thers, and Grandfathers, whose Flesh has serv'd to feed and nourish him. These Mus­cles, says he, this Flesh, and these Veins, are your own: Poor silly Souls as you are, you little think that the substance of your An­cestors Limbs is here yet: but mind as you Eat, and you will find in it the Taste of your [Page 382] own Flesh: In which Song there is to be observ'd, an Invention that does nothing relish of the Barbarian. Those that paint these People Dying after this manner, re­present the Prisoner spitting in the faces of his Executioners, and making at them a wry Mouth. And 'tis most certain, that to the very last gasp, they never cease to Brave and Defie them both in Word and Gesture. In plain truth, these Men are very Savage in comparison of us, and of necessity, they must either be absolutely so, or else we are Savager; for there is a vast difference betwixt their Manners, and ours.

The Men there have several Wives, and so much the greater number, by how much they have the greater Reputation and Va­lour, and it is one very remarkable Vertue their Women have, that the same Endea­vour our Wives have to hinder and divert us from the Friendship and Familiarity of other Women, those employ to promote their Husbands Desires, and to procure them many Spouses; for being above all things sollicitous of their Husbands Ho­nour, 'tis their chiefest care to seek out, and to bring in the most Companions they can, forasmuch as it is a Testimony of their Husbands Vertue. I know most of ours will cry out, that 'tis Monstrous; whereas in truth, it is not so; but a truly [Page 383] Matrimonical Vertue; though of the highest form. In the Bible, Sarah, Leah and Rachel, gave the most Beautiful of their Maids to their Husbands, Livia preferred the Passion of Augustus to her own inte­rest, and the Wife of King Dejotarus of Stratonica, did not only give up a fair young Maid, that serv'd her, to her Hus­bands Embraces, but moreover carefully brought up the Children he had by her, and assisted them in the Succession to their Fathers Crown. And that it may not be suppos'd, that all this is done by a simple and servile Observation to their common Practice, or by any Authoritative Im­pression of their Ancient Custom, with­out Judgment, or Examination; and for having a Soul so stupid, that it cannot contrive what else to do, I must here give you some touches of their sufficiency, in point of Understanding; besides what I repeated to you before, which was one of their Songs of War, I have another, and a Love-Song, that begins thus; Stay Adder stay, that by thy Pattern my Sister may draw the Fashion, and work of a Noble Wreath, that I may present to my Be­loved, by which means thy Beauty, and the excellent Order of thy Scales shall for ever be preferr'd before all other Serpents. Wherein the first Couplet, Stay Adder, &c. makes the Burthen of the Song. Now [Page 384] I have converst enough with Poetry to judg thus much: that not only, there is nothing of Barbarous in this Invention: But moreover, that it is perfectly Anacre­ontick: to which their Language is soft, of a pleasing Accent, and something bor­dering upon the Greek Terminations. Three of these People, not foreseeing how dear their knowledg of the Corruptions of this part of the World, would one Day cost their Happiness and Repose, and that the effect of this Commerce would be their Ruine, as I presuppose it is in a very fair way, (Miserable Men to suffer themselves to be deluded with desire of Novelty, and to have left the Serenity of their own Heaven, to come so far to gaze at ours,) came to Roane, at the time that the late King Charles the Ninth was there: where the King himself talk'd to them a good while, and they were made to see our Fashions, our Pomp, and the form of a great City; after which, some one ask'd their opinion, and would know of them, what of all the things they had seen, they found most to be admired? To which they made Answer, Three things, of which I have forgot the Third, and am troubled at it; but Two I yet remember. They said, that in the first place they thought it very strange, that so many tall Men wear­ing Beards, strong, and well Arm'd, who [Page 385] were about the King, ('tis like they meant the Swiss of the Guard,) should submit to Obey a Child, and that they did not choose out one amongst themselves to Command: Secondly, (they have a way of speaking in their Language, to call Men the half of one another,) that they had Observ'd, that there were amongst us, Men full, and cramm'd with all manner of Conveniences, whilst in the mean time, their halves were Begging at their Doors, Lean, and half starv'd with Hunger and Poverty; and thought it strange, that these Necessitous halves, were able to suffer so great an Inequality and Injustice, and that they did not take the others by the Throats, or set Fire to their Houses. I talk'd to one of them a great while toge­ther, but I had so ill an Interpreter, and that was so perplex'd by his own Igno­rance, to apprehend my meaning, that I could get nothing out of him, of any mo­ment; Asking him, what advantage he reapt from the Superiority he had amongst his own People? (for he was a Captain, and our Marriners call'd him King,) he told me, to March in the Head of them to War; and demanding of him further, how many Men he had to follow him? He shew'd me a space of Ground, to signi­fie, as many as could March in such a compass: which might be Four or Five [Page 386] Thousand Men; and putting the question to him, whether or no his Authority ex­pir'd with the War? He told me this re­main'd; that when he went to Visit the Village of his dependance, they plain'd him Paths through the thick of their Woods, through which he might pass at his ease. All this does not sound very ill, and the last was not much amiss; for they wear no Breeches.

CHAP. XXXI. That a Man is soberly to judg of Divine Ordinances.

THings unknown, are the principal and true subject of Imposture, for­asmuch as in the first place, their very Strangeness lends them Credit, and more­over, by not being subjected to our ordi­nary Discourse, they deprive us of the means to question, and dispute them. For which reason, says Plato, it is much more easie to satisfie the hearers, when speak­ing of the Nature of the Gods, than of the Nature of Men, because the Ignorance of the Auditory affords a fair and large Career, and all manner of Liberty, in [Page 387] the handling of profane and abstruce things; and then it comes to pass, that nothing is so firmly believed, as what we least know; nor any People so confident, as those who entertain us with Fabulous Stories, such as your Alchymists, Judicial Astrologers, Fortune-tellers, and Physici­ans, Id genus omne; to which I could wil­lingly, if I durst, join a sort of People, that take upon them to Interpret and Con­troul the Designs of God himself, making no question of finding out the cause of every Accident, and to pry into the se­crets of the Divine Will, there to discover the Incomprehensible Motives of his Works. And although the variety, and the continual discordance of Events, throw them from Corner to Corner, and toss them from East to West, yet do they still persist in their vain Inquisition, and with the same Pencil to Paint Black and White. In a Nation of the Indies, there is this commendable Custom, that when any thing befalls them amiss in any Rencoun­ter or Battel, they Publickly ask Pardon of the Sun, who is their God, as having committed an unjust Action, always im­puting their Good or Evil Fortune to the Divine Justice, and to that, submitting their own Judgment and Reason. 'Tis e­nough for a Christian to believe, that all things come from God, to receive them [Page 388] with acknowledgment of his divine and instructable Wisdom, and also thankfully to accept and receive them, with what Face soever, they may present themselves: But I do not approve of what I see in use, that is, to seek to continue and sup­port our Religion by the Prosperity of our Enterprizes. Our Belief has other Foun­dation enough, without going about to Authorize it by Events: For the People accustomed to such Arguments as these, and so proper to their own Taste, it is to be fear'd, lest when they fail of Success, they should also stagger in their Faith: As in the War wherein we are now Engag'd, upon the account of Religion, those who had the better in the Business of Rochela­beille; making great Brags of that suc­cess, as an infallible approbation of their Cause, when they came afterwards to excuse their Misfortunes of Jarnac, and Moncontour, 'twas by saying, they were Fatherly Scourges and Corrections; if they have not a People wholely at their Mercy, they make it manifestly enough to appear, what it is to take two sorts of Grist out of the same Sack, and with the same Mouth to blow Hot and Cold. It were better to possess the Vulgar with the solid and real Foundations of Truth. 'Twas a brave Naval-Battel that was gain'd a few Months since, against the Turks, [Page 389] under the Command of Don John of Au­stria; but it has also pleas'd God at other times to let us see as great Victories at our own Expence. In fine, 'tis a hard matter to reduce Divine things to our Ballance, without waste, and losing a great deal of the weight. And who would take upon him to give a reason, that Arius, and his Pope Leo, the principal Heads of the A­rian Heresie, should Die at several times of so like and strange Deaths, (for being withdrawn from the Disputation, by the Griping in the Guts, they both of them suddenly gave up the Ghost upon the Stool,) and would aggravate this Divine Vengeance by the Circumstance of the place; might as well add the Death of Heliogabalus, who was also Slain in a House of Office. But what? Ireneus was involv'd in the same Fortune; God being pleas'd to shew us, that the Good have something else to hope for; and the Wicked some­thing else to fear, than the Fortunes, or Misfortunes, of this World: He manages, and applies them, according to his own se­cret Will and Pleasure, and deprives us of the means, foolishly to make our own pro­fit. And those People both abuse them­selves, and us, who will pretend to dive into these Mysteries by the strength of Humane Reason. They never give one hit, that they do not receive two for it; [Page 390] of which, St. Augustine gives a very great proof upon his Adversaries. 'Tis a Con­flict, that is more decided by strength of Memory, than the force of Reason. We are to content our selves with the Light it pleases the Sun to communicate to us, by Vertue of his Rays, and who will lift up his Eyes to take in a greater, let him not think it strange, if for the reward of his presumption,Sapien. Cap. 9. v. 13. he there lose his sight. Quis hominum potest scire consilium Dei? aut quis poterit cogitare, quid vebit Dominus? Who amongst Men can know the Council of God? or who can think what the Will of the Lord is?

CHAP. XXXII. That we are to avoid Pleasures, even at the expence of Life.

I had long ago Observ'd most of the O­pinions of the Ancients to concur in this, That it is happy to Die, when there is more ill than good in Living, and that to preserve Life to our own Torment and Inconvenience, is contrary to the very Rules of Nature, as these old Laws in­struct us.

But to push this Contempt of Death so far, as to employ it to the removing our selves from the danger of Coveting Ho­nours, Riches, Dignities, and other Fa­vours, and Goods, as we call them, of Fortune, as if Reason were not sufficient to perswade us to avoid them, without adding this new Injunction, I had never seen it either Enjoin'd, or Practic'd, till this passage of Seneca fell into my hands; who advising Lucilius, a Man of great Power and Authority about the Emperour, to alter his Voluptuous and Magnificent way of Living, and to retire himself from this Worldly Vanity and Ambition, to some Solitary, Quiet and Philosophical Life, and the other alledging some Difficulties. I am of Opinion, says he, either that thou leave [Page 392] that Life, or Life it self; I would indeed advise thee to the gentle way, and to untie, rather than to break, the Knot thou hast undiscreetly Knit, provided, that if it be not otherwise to be unti'd, then resolutely break it. There is no Man so great a Cow­ard, that had not rather once fall, than to be always falling. I should have found this Counsel conformable enough to the Stoical Roughness: But it appears the more strange, for being borrowed from E­picurus, who writes the same thing upon the like occasion to Idomenius. And I think I have Observ'd something like it, but with Christian Moderation, amongst our own People. St. Hilary, Bishop of Poictiers, that famous Enemy of the Ari­an Heresie, being in Syria, had Intelligence thither sent him, that Abra his only Daughter, whom he left at home under the Eye and Tuition of her Mother, was sought in Marriage by the greatest Noble­men of the Country, as being a Virgin Vertuously brought up, Fair, Rich, and in the Flower of her Age: whereupon he writ to her, (as it appears upon Record,) that she should remove her Affection from all these Pleasures and Advantages were propos'd unto her; for he had in his Tra­vels found out a much greater and more worthy Fortune for her, a Husband of much greater Power and Magnificence, [Page 393] that would present her with Robes, and Jewels of inestimable value; wherein his design was, to dispossess her of the Appe­tite, and use of Worldly Delights, to join her wholely to God: But the nearest and most certain way to this, being, as he con­ceiv'd, the Death of his Daughter; he ne­ver ceas'd, by Vows, Prayers and Orai­zens, to Beg of the Almighty, that he would please to call her out of this World, and to take her to himself; as accordingly it came to pass; for soon after his return, she Died, at which he exprest a singular Joy. This seems to outdo the other, forasmuch as he applys himself to this means at the first sight, which they only take subsidiarily, and besides, it was towards his only Daugh­ter. But I will not omit the latter end of this Story, though it be from my purpose; St. Hilaries Wife having understood from him, how the Death of their Daughter was brought about, by his desires and de­sign, and how much happier she was, to be remov'd out of this World, than to have stay'd in it: Conceiv'd so Lively an Ap­prehension of the Eternal and Heavenly Beatitude, that she Begg'd of her Husband, with the extreamest Importunity, to do as much for her; and God, at their joint Re­quest, shortly after calling her to him, it was a Death embrac'd on both sides, with singular Content.

CHAP. XXXIII. That Fortune is oftentimes Observed to Act by the Rule of Reason.

THe Inconstancy, and various Moti­ons of Fortune, may reasonably make us expect, she should present us with all sorts of Faces. Can there be a more express Act of Justice, than this? The Duke of Valentenois, having resolv'd to Poison Adrian Cardinal of Cornetto, with whom Pope Alexander the Sixth, his Fa­ther, and himself, were to go to Supper in the Vatican: he sent before a Bottle of Poisoned Wine, and withal, strict Order to the Butler to keep it very safe. The Pope being come before his Son, and cal­ling for Drink, the Butler supposing this Wine had not been so strictly recommend­ed to his Care, but only upon the account of its Excellency, presented it presently to the Pope, and the Duke himself coming in presently after, and being confident they had not meddled with his Bottle, took also his Cup; so that the Father Died imme­diately upon the place, and the Son, after having been long tormented with Sick­ness, [Page 395] was reserv'd to another, and a worse Fortune: Sometimes she seems to play up­on us, just in the nick of an Affair: Mon­sieur d' Estree at that time Guidon to Mon­sieur de Vendosme; and Monsieur de Li­ques Lieutenant to the Company of the Duke of Ascot, being both pretenders to the Sieur de Foungueselles his Sister, though of several Parties, (as it oft falls out a­mongst Frontier Neighbours,) the Sieur de Liques carried her, but on the same Day he was Married, and which was worse, before he went to Bed to his Wife, the Bridegroom having a mind to break a Lance in Honour of his new Bride, went out to Skirmish, near to St. Omers, where the Sieur d' Estree proving the stronger, took him Prisoner, and the more to illu­strate his Victory, the Lady her self was fain

to request him of Courtesie, to deliver up [Page 396] his Prisoner to her, as he accordingly did, the Gentlemen of France never denying any thing to Ladies. Does she not seem to be an Artist here? Constantine the Son of Hellen, founded the Empire of Con­stantinople, and so many Ages after, Con­stantine the Son of Hellen put an end to it. Sometimes she is pleas'd to Emulate our Miracles. We are told, that King Clouis Besieging Angoulesme, the Walls fell down of themselves by Divine Favour. And Bouchet has it from some Author, that King Robert having sat down before a City, and being stole away from the Seige, to go keep the Feast of St. Aignan at Orleans; as he was in Devotion, at a certain place of the Mass, the Walls of the beleaguered Ci­ty, without any manner of Violence, fell down with a sudden Ruine. But she did quite contrary in our Milan War; for Captain Rense laying Seige to the City Ve­rona, and having carried a Mine under a great part of the Wall, the Mine being sprung, the Wall was lifted from its base, but dropt down again nevertheless, whole and entire, and so exactly upon its foun­dation, that the Besieged suffer'd no Incon­venience by that Attempt. Sometimes she plays the Physician, Jason Phereus being given over by the Physicians, by reason of a desperate Imposthumation in his Breast; having a mind to rid himself of his Pain, [Page 397] by Death at least, in a Battel, threw him­self desperately into the thickest of the E­nemy, where he was so fortunately wound­ed quite through the Body, that the Im­posthume brake, and he was perfectly cur'd. Did she not also excel the Painter Protogenes in his Art? Who having fi­nish'd the Picture of a Dog quite tir'd, and out of breath, in all the other parts excellently well to his own liking, but not being able to express, as he would, the slaver and foam that should come out of his Mouth, vext, and angry at his work, he took his Spunge, which by cleaning his Pencils, had imbib'd several sorts of Colours, and threw it in a rage against the Picture, with an intent utterly to deface it; when Fortune guiding the Spunge to hit just upon the Mouth of the Dog, it there perform'd what all his Art was not able to do. Does she not sometimes direct our Counsels, and correct them? Isabel Queen of England, being to Sail from Ze­land into her own Kingdom, with an Ar­my, in favour of her Son, against her Husband, had been lost, had she come in­to the Port she intended, being there laid wait for by the Enemy; but Fortune, a­gainst her will, threw her into another Haven, where she Landed in safety. And he who throwing a Stone at a Dog, hit, and kill'd, his Mother in Law, had [Page 398] he not reason to pronounce this Verse,

Fortune has more Judgment than we. Icetes had contracted with two Souldiers to Kill Timoleon, at Adranon in Sicily. These Villains took their time to do it, when he was assisting at a Sacrifice, who thrusting into the Crowd, as they were making signs to one another, that now was a fit time to do their business, in steps a third, who with a Sword takes one of them full drive over the Pate, lays him dead upon the place, and away he runs. Which the other seeing, and concluding himself dis­cover'd, and lost, he runs to the Altar, and begs for Mercy, promising to discover the whole truth, which as he was doing, and laying open the whole Conspiracy, behold the third Man, who being Appre­hended, was, as a Murtherer thrust and hal'd by the People through the Prease, towards Timoleon, and other the most Emi­nent Persons of the Assembly, before whom being brought, he Crys out for Pardon, pleading, that he had justly Slain his Fathers Murtherer; which he also pro­ving upon the place, by sufficient Witnes­ses, [Page 399] which his good Fortune very oppor­tunely supply'd him withal, that his Father was really Kill'd in the City of the Leon­tins, by that very Man on whom he had taken his Revenge; he was presently A­warded Ten Attick The old Attick Mine was 75 Drach. Mine, for having had the good Fortune, by designing to re­venge the the Death of his Father, to pre­serve the Life of the common Father of Sicily. This Fortune in her Conduct, sur­passes all the Rules of Humane Prudence. But, to conclude, is there not a direct Ap­plication, of her Favour, Bounty and Pie­ty, manifestly discover'd in this Action? Ignatius the Father, and Ignatius the Son, being proscrib'd by the Triumviry of Rome, resolv'd upon this generous Act of mutu­al kindness, to fall by the hands of one another, and by that means, to frustrate and defeat the Cruelty of the Tyrants; and accordingly, with their Swords drawn, ran full drive upon one another, where Fortune so guided the points, that they made two equally Mortal Wounds, afford­ing withal so much Honour to so brave a Friendship, as to leave them just strength enough to draw out their Bloody Swords, that they might have liberty to embrace one another in this Dying Condition, with so close and hearty an Embrace, that the Executioners cut off both their Heads at once, leaving the Bodies still fast link'd [Page 400] together in this Noble Knot, and their Wounds join'd Mouth to Mouth, affecti­onately sucking in the last Blood, and re­mainder of the Lives of one another.

CHAP. XXXIV. Of one Defect in one Government.

MY Father, who for a Man, that had no other advantages, than Experi­ence only, and his own Natural Parts, was nevertheless of a very clear Judgment, has formerly told me,The pro­ject of an Office of Enquiry. that he once had thoughts of endeavouring to introduce this Practice; that there might be in eve­ry City a certain place assign'd, to which, such as stood in need of any thing might repair, and have their Business enter'd by an Officer appointed for that purpose; as for Example, I enquire for a Chapman to Buy my Pearls: I enquire for one that has Pearls to Sell: Such a one wants Com­pany to go to Paris, such a one enquires for a Servant of such a Quality, such a one for a Master, such a one enquires for such an Artificer, some for one thing, some for another, every one according to what he wants. And doubtless, these mutual [Page 401] Advertisements would be of no contemp­tible Advantage to the Publick Corre­spondency and Intelligence: For there are evermore Conditions that hunt after one another, and for want of knowing one anothers occasion, leave Men in very great necessity. I have heard, to the great shame of the Age we Live in, that in our very sight, two most excellent Men for Learn­ing, Died so Poor, that they had scarce Bread to put in their Mouths: Lilius Gre­gorius Giraldus in Italy, and Sebastianus Castalio in Germany: And do believe, there are a Thousand Men would have invited them into their Families, with very ad­vantageous Conditions, or have Reliev'd them where they were, had they known their wants. The World is not so general­ly▪ Corrupted, but that I know a Man, that would heartily wish the Estate his Ancestors have left him, might be em­ploy'd, so long as it shall please Fortune to give him leave to enjoy it, to secure rare and remarkable Persons of any kind, whom Misfortune sometimes persecutes to the last degree, from the danger of Necessity; and at least, place them in such a condi­tion, that they must be very hard to please, if they were not contented. My Father in his Oeconomical Government, had this Order, (which I know how to commend, but by no means imitate,) [Page 402] which was, that besides the Day-book, or Memorial of the Houshold Affairs, where the small Accounts, Payments and Dis­bursements, which do not require a Secre­taries hand, were entred, and which a Bayliff always had in Custody; he Order'd him whom he kept to write for him, to keep a Paper Journal, and in it to set down all the remarkable Occurrences, and Day by Day the Memoires of the Histories of his House: very pleasant to look over, when time begins to wear things out of Memory, and very useful sometimes to put us out of doubt, when such a thing was begun, when ended, what courses were debated on, what concluded; our Voyages, Absences, Marriages, and Deaths, the re­ception of good, or ill news; the change of principal Servants, and the like. An Ancient Custom, which I think it would not be amiss for every one to revive in his own House; and I find I did very foolish­ly in neglecting the same.

CHAP. XXXV. Of the Custome of Wearing Cloaths.

WHatever I shall say upon this Sub­ject, I am of necessity to invade some of the bounds of Custome, so care­ful has she been to shut up all the Avenues. I was disputing with my self in this shivering season, whether the fashion of going Naked in those Nations lately disco­ver'd, is impos'd upon them, by the hot temperature of the Air, as we say of the Moores and Indians, or whether it be the Original fashion of Mankind; Men of Understanding, forasmuch as all things un­der the Sun, as the Holy Writ declares, are subject to the same Laws, were wont in such Considerations as these, where we are to distinguish the Natural Laws from those have been impos'd by Man's Inven­tion, to have recourse to the general Po­lity of the World, where there can be no­thing Counterfeited. Now all other Crea­tures being sufficiently furnish'd with all things necessary for the support of their be­ing, it is not to be imagin'd, that we only should be brought into the World in a de­fective [Page 404] and indigent Condition, and in such an estate as cannot subsist without Foreign assistance; and therefore it is, that I be­lieve, that as Plants, Trees, and Animals, and all things that have Life, are seen to be by Nature sufficiently Cloath'd and Co­ver'd, to defend them from the Injuries of Weather,

so were we: But as those who by Artifi­cial Light put out that of the Day, so we by borrowed Forms and Fashions have de­stroy'd our own. And 'tis plain enough to be seen, that 'tis Custome only which renders that impossible, that otherwise is nothing so; for of those Nations who have no manner of knowledg of Cloath­ing, some are scituated under the same Temperature that we are, and some in much Colder Climates. And besides, our most tender Parts are always expos'd to the Air, as the Eyes, Mouth, Nose, and Ears; and our Country Labourers, like our Ancestors in former times, go with their Breasts and Bellies open. Had we been Born with a necessity upon us of [Page 405] wearing Petticoats and Breeches, there is no doubt, but Nature would have Fortifi­ed those Parts she intended should be expo­sed to the Fury of the Seasons, with a thicker Skin, as she has done the Finger ends, and the Soles of the Feet. And why should this seem hard to believe? I Ob­serve much greater distance betwixt my Habit, and that of one of our Country Bores, than betwixt his, and a Man that has no other Covering but his Skin. How many Men, especially in Turky, go Naked upon the account of Devotion? I know not who would ask a Beggar, whom he should see in his Shirt in the depth of Win­ter, as Brisk and Frolick, as he who goes Muffled up to the Ears in Furs, how he is able to endure to go so? Why Sir, he might Answer, you go with your Face bare, and I am all Face. The Italians have a Story of the Duke of Florence his Fool, whom his Master Asking, How being so thin Clad, he was able to support the Cold, when he himself, warm wrapt as he was, was hardly able to do it? Why, reply'd the Fool, use my Receipt, to put on all your Cloaths you have at once, and you'l feel no more Cold, than I. King Mossinissa to an ex­tream Old Age, could never be prevail'd upon to go with his Head cover'd, how Cold, Stormy, or Rainy, soever the Wea­ther might be: Which also is reported of [Page 406] the Emperour Severus. Herodotus tells us, that in the Battels fought betwixt the Egyptians, and the Persians, it was Ob­serv'd both by himself, and others, that of those who were left Dead upon the place, the Heads of the Egyptians were found to be without comparison harder, than those of the Persians, by reason that the last had gone with their Heads always cover'd from their Infancy, first, with Biggins, and then with Turbans, and the others al­ways shav'd, and open. And King Agesi­laus observ'd to a decrepit Age, to wear always the same Cloaths in Winter, that he did in Summer. Caesar, says Suetoni­us, March'd always at the Head of his Ar­my, for the most part, on foot, with his Head bare, whether it was Rain, or Sun­shine, and as much is said of Hannibal.

A Venetian who has long Liv'd in Pegu, and is lately return'd from thence, writes, that the Men and Women of that King­dom, though they cover all their other Parts, go always Barefoot, and Ride so too. And Plato does very earnestly ad­vise, [Page 407] for the health of the whole Body, to give the Head and the Feet no other Cloathing, than what Nature has bestow'd. He whom the Polacks have Elected for their King, since ours came thence, who is indeed one of the greatest Princes of this Age, never wears any Gloves, and for Winter, or whatever Weather can come, never wears other Cap abroad, than the same he wears at home. Whereas I can­not endure to go unbutton'd, or unti'd; our Neighbouring Labourers would think themselves in Chains, if they were so brac'd. Varro is of Opinion, that when it was Ordain'd, we should be bare in the presence of the Gods, and before the Ma­gistrate, it was rather so Order'd, upon the score of health, and to Inure us to the Injuries of Weather, than upon the ac­count of Reverence. And since we are now talking of Cold, and French-men us'd to wear variety of Colours, (not I my self, for I seldome wear other than Black, or White, in Imitation of my Father,) let us add another Story of Captain Martin du Bellay, who affirms, that in the Voyage of Luxenbourg, he saw so great Frosts, that the Ammunition Wine was cut with Hat­chets, and Wedges; was deliver'd out to the Souldiers by Weight, and that they carried it away in Baskets: and Ovid,

At the Mouth of the Lake Maeotis, the Frosts are so very sharp, that in the very same place where Methridates his Lieute­nant had Fought the Enemy dry-foot, and given them a notable Defeat, the Summer following he obtain'd over them a Famous Naval Victory. The Romans Fought at a very great disadvantage, in the Engage­ment they had with the Carthaginians near Placentia, by reason, that they went on to Charge with their Blood fix'd, and their Limbs Numm'd with Cold, whereas Han­nibal had caus'd great Fires to be dispers'd quite through his Camp to warm his Soul­diers, and Oil to be distributed amongst them; to the end, that Anointing them­selves, they might render their Nerves more Supple and Active, and fortifie the Pores against the violence of the Air, and Freezing Wind, that Rag'd in that Season. The Retreat the Greeks made from Baby­lon into their own Country, is Famous, for the Difficulties and Calamities they had to overcome. Of which, this was one, [Page 409] that being Encounter'd in the Mountains of Armenia with a horrible Storm of Snow, they lost all knowledg of the Coun­try, and of the ways, and being driven up, were a Day and a Night without Eat­ing or Drinking, most of their Cattel Di­ed, many of themselves Starv'd Dead, se­veral struck Blind with the driving, and the glittering of the Snow, many of them Maim'd in their Fingers and Toes, and many Stiff and Motionless with the ex­tremity of the Cold, who had yet their Understanding entire. Alexander saw a Nation, where they Bury their Fruit-Trees in Winter, to defend them from being de­stroy'd by the Frost, and we also may see the same. But concerning Cloaths, the King of Mexico chang'd four times a Day his Apparel, and never put them on more, employing those he left off, in his conti­nual Liberalities and Rewards, as also, nei­ther Pot, Dish, nor other Utensil of his Kitchen, or Table, was ever serv'd in Twice.

GHAP. XXXVI. Of Cato the Younger.

I am not guilty of the Common Errour, of judging another by my self. I easi­ly believe, that in anothers Humour, that is contrary to my own; and though I find my self engag'd to one certain Form, I do not obliged others to it, as many do; but believe and apprehend a Thousand ways of Living, and contrary to most Men, more easily admit of Difference than Uniformi­ty amongst us. I as frankly, as any one would have me, discharge a Man from my Humours and Principles, and consider him according to his own particular Model. Though I am not Continent my self, I ne­vertheless sincerely Love, and approve the Continency of the Capuchins, and other Religious Orders, and highly commend their way of Living. I insinuate my self by imagination into their Place and Love, and Honour them the more, for being o­ther than I am. I very much desire, that we may be Censur'd every Man by him­self, and would not be drawn into the con­sequence of common Examples. My [Page 411] Weakness does nothing alter the Esteem I ought to have of the force and vigour of those who deserve it. Sunt qui nihil sua­dent, quam quid se imitari posse confidunt. Cicero de Or. ad. There are who perswade nothing but what they believe they can imitate themselves. Crawl­ing upon the Slime of the Earth, I do not for all that cease to Observe up in the Clouds the inimitable height of some He­roick Souls: 'tis a great deal for me to have my Judgment regular and right, if the effects cannot be so, and to maintain this Soveraign part at least free from Cor­ruption: 'tis something to have my Will right and good, where my Legs fail me. This Age wherein we Live, in our part of the World at least, is grown so stupid, that not only Exercise, but the very Imaginati­on of Vertue is defective, and seems to be no other but College-Fashion.

Quam vereri deberent, Cicero Tus. 1. etiam si precipere non possent. Which they ought to Reverence, though they cannot Comprehend. 'Tis a Gew­gaw to hang in a Cabinet, or at the end of the Tongue, as on the tip of the Ear, for Or­nament [Page 412] only. There is no more Vertu­ous Actions extant, and those Actions that carry a shew of Vertue, have yet nothing of its Essence; by reason, that Profit, Glory, Fear and Custom, and other such like foreign Causes, put us in the way to produce them. Our Justice also, Valour, and good Offices, may then be call'd so too, in respect to others, and according to the face they appear with to the Publick; but in the doer it can by no means be Vertue, because there is another end pro­pos'd, another moving cause. Now Ver­tue owns nothing to be hers, but what is done by her self, and for her self alone. In that great Battel of Potidaea, that the Greeks under the Command of Pausanias obtain'd against Mardonius, and the Persi­ans, the Conquerours, according to their Custom, coming to divide amongst them the Glory of the Exploit, they attributed to the Spartan Nation the Preheminence of Valour in this Engagement. The Spar­tans, great Judges of Vertue, when they came to determine, to what particular Man of their Nation the Honour was due, of having the best Behav'd himself upon this occasion, found, that Aristodemus had of all others hazarded his Person with the greatest Bravery: but did not however al­low him any Prize, or Reward; by rea­son that his Vertue had been incited by a [Page 413] desire, to clear his Reputation from the Reproach of his Miscarriage at the Business of Thermypole, and with a desire to Die Bravely, to wipe off that former Blemish. Our Judgments are yet sick, and Obey the Humour of our deprav'd Manners. I Observe most of the Wits of these Times pretend to Ingenuity, by endeavouring to blemish and to darken the Glory of the Bravest and most Generous Actions of for­mer Ages, putting one Vile Interpretation or another upon them, and forging and sup­posing vain Causes and Motives for those Noble things they did. A mighty subtil­ty indeed! Give me the greatest and most unblemish'd Action that ever the Day be­held, and I will contrive a Hundred plau­sible Drifts and Ends to obscure it: God knows, who ever will stretch them out to the full, what diversity of Images our In­ternal Wills do suffer under; they do not so Maliciously play the Censurers, as they do it Ignorantly and Rudely in all their Detractions. The same pains and licence that others take to Blemish and Bespatter these illustrious Names, I would willingly undergo to lend them a shoulder to raise them higher. These rare Images, and that are cull'd out by the consent of the wisest Men of all Ages, for the Worlds Ex­ample, I should endeavour to Honour a­new, as far as my Invention would per­mit, [Page 414] in all the Circumstances of favoura­ble Interpretation. And we are to believe, that the force of our Invention is infinite­ly short of their Merit. 'Tis the Duty of good Men to Pourtray Vertues as Beautiful as they can, and there would be no Inde­cency in the Case, should our Passion a lit­tle Transport us in favour of so Sacred a Form. What these People do to the con­trary, they either do out of Malice, or by the Vice of confining their Belief to their own Capacity; or, which I am more inclin'd to think, for not having their sight strong, clear and elevated enough, to con­ceive the splendour of Vertue in her Na­tive Purity: As Plutarch complains, that in his time some Attributed the cause of the Younger Cato's Death, to his Fear of Caesar, at which he seems very Angry, and with good reason: and by that a Man may guess how much more he would have been offended with those, who have Attributed it to Ambitious Senceless People! He would rather have perform'd a handsome, just and generous Action, and to have had Ignominy for his Reward, than for Glory. That Man was in truth a Pattern, that Nature chose out to shew to what height Humane Vertue and Constancy could ar­rive: but I am not capable of hand­ling so Noble an Argument, and shall therefore only set Five Latine Poets toge­ther [Page 415] by the Ears, who has done best in the praise of Cato; and inclusively for their own too. Now a Man well Read in Poe­try, will think the two first, in compari­son of the others, a little Flat and Lan­guishing; the Third more Vigorous, but overthrown by the Extravagancy of his own force. He will then think, that there will be yet room for one or two Gradati­ons of Invention to come to the Fourth; but coming to mount the pitch of that, he will lift up his Hands for admiration; the last, the first by some space, (but a space that he will swear is not to be fill'd up by any Humane Wit,) he will be a­stonish'd, he will not know where he is. These are Wonders. We have more Po­ets, than Judges and Interpreters of Poe­try. It is easier to Write an indifferent Poem, than to Understand a good one. There is indeed a certain low and mode­rate sort of Poetry, that a Man may well enough judg by certain Rules of Art; but the true, supream and divine Poesie, is equally above all Rules and Reason. And whoever discerns the Beauty of it, with the most assured and most steady sight, sees no more than the quick reflection of a Flash of Lightning. This is a sort of Poesie, that does not exercise, but ravishes and overwhelms our Judgment. The Fu­ry that possesses him who is able to pene­trate [Page 416] into it, wounds yet a Third Man by hearing him repeat it. Like a Loadstone, that not only attracts the Needle, but al­so infuses into it the Vertue to attract o­thers. And it is more evidently Eminent up­on our Theatres, that the Sacred Inspiration of the Muses, having first stirr'd up the Poet to Anger, Sorrow, Hatred, and out of himself, to whatever they will, does moreover by the Poet possess the Actor, and by the Actor consecutively all the Spectators. So much do our Passions hang and depend upon one another. Po­etry has ever had that power over me from a Child, to Transpierce and Trans­port me: But this quick resentment that is Natural to me, has been variously hand­led by variety of Forms, not so much high­er and lower, (for they were ever the highest of every kind,) as differing in Co­lour. First, a Gay and Spritely Fluency, afterwards a Lofty and Penetrating Subtil­ty; and lastly, a Mature and Constant Force. Their Names will better express them; Ovid, Lucan, Virgil. But our Po­ets are beginning their Career.

Says the Second. And the Third speaking of the Civil Wars betwixt Caesar and Pompey,

And the Master of the Quire, after having set forth all the great Names of the great­est Romans, ends thus, ‘—His dantem jura Catonem. Aeneid. l. 8.’ Great Cato giving Laws to all the rest.

CHAP. XXXVII. That we Laugh and Cry for the same thing.

WHen we Read in History, that An­tigonus was very much displeas'd with his Son, for presenting him the Head of King Pyrrhus his Enemy, but newly Slain, Fighting against him, and that see­ing it, he wept: That Rene Duke of Lor­raine also Lamented the Death of Charles Duke of Burgundy, whom he had himself Defeated, and appear'd in Mourning at his Funeral: And that in the Battel of Auroy, (which Count Montfort obtain'd over Charles de Blois, his Concurrent for the Dutchy of Brittany,) the Conquerour meeting the Dead Body of his Enemy, was very much Afflicted at his Death, we must not presently Cry out,

When Pompey's Head was presented to Cae­sar, the Histories tell us, that he turn'd a­way his Face, as from a sad and unpleasing Object. There had been so long an In­telligence and Society betwixt them, in the management of the Publick Affairs, so great a Community of Fortunes, so ma­ny mutual Offices, and so near an Alli­ance, that this Countenance of his ought not to suffer under any Misinterpretation; or to be suspected for either False or Coun­terfeit, as this other seems to believe:

For though it be true, that the greatest part [Page 420] of our Actions, are no other than Vizor and Disguise, and yet may sometimes be Real and True: that,

so is it, that in judging of these Accidents, we are to consider how much our Souls are oft-times agitated with divers Passions. And as they say, that in our Bodies there is a Congregation of divers Humours, of which, that is the Soveraign, which ac­cording to the Complexion we are of, is commonly most predominant in us: So, though the Soul have in it divers motions to give it Agitation; yet must there of necessity be one to over-rule all the rest, though not with so necessary and absolute a Dominion, but that through the Flexi­bility and Inconstancy of the Soul, those of less Authority, may upon occasion, reas­sume their place, and make a little Sally in turn. Thence it is, that we see not only Children, who Innocently Obey, and follow Nature, often Laugh and Cry at the same thing: but not one of us can boast, what Journey soever he may have in hand, that he has the most set his Heart upon, but when he comes to part with his Family and [Page 421] Friends, he will find something that trou­bles him within; and though he refrain his Tears, yet he puts Foot i'th' Stirrupt, with a Sad and Cloudy Countenance, and what gentle Flame soever may have warm'd the Heart of Modest, and Well-Born Virgins, yet are they fain to be forc'd from about their Mothers Necks, to be put to Bed to their Husbands, whatever this Boon Com­panion is pleas'd to say:

Neither is it strange to lament a person, whom a man would by no means should be alive: When I rattle my man, I do it with all the mettle I have, and load him with no feign'd, but downright real Curses; but the heat being over, if he should stand in need of me, I should be very ready to do him good: for I instant­ly turn the leaf. When I call him Calf, and Coxcomb, I do not pretend to entail [Page 422] those titles upon him for ever; neither do I think I give my self the lye in calling him an honest man presently after. Were it not the sign of a fool to talk to ones self, there would hardly be a day or hour wherein I might not be heard to grumble, and mutter to my self, and against my self; Turd in the fools teeth, and yet I do not think that to be my Character. Who for seeing me one while cold, and presently very kind to my Wife, believes the one or the other to be counterfeited, is an Ass. Nero taking leave of his Mother, whom he sent to be drown'd, was nevertheless sensible of some emotion at this farewel, and was struck with horror, and pity. 'Tis said, that the light of the Sun is not one continuous thing, but that he darts new rays so thick one upon another, that we cannot perceive the intermission.

Just so the Soul variously and intercepti­bly [Page 423] darts out her Passions. Artabanus sur­prising once his Nephew Xerxes, Chid him for the sudden alteration of his Coun­tenance. As he was considering the im­measurable Greatness of his Forces passing over the Hellespont, for the Grecian Expe­dition, he was first seiz'd with a palpitati­on of Joy, to see so many Millions of Men under his Command, which also appear'd in the Gayety of his Looks: But his Thoughts at the same instant suggesting to him, that of so many Lives, once in an Age at most, there would not be one left, he presently Knit his Brows, and grew Sad, even to Tears. We have resolutely pursu'd the Revenge of an Injury receiv'd, and been sensible of a singular Content­ment for the Victory: But we shall Weep notwithstanding: 'tis not for the Victory, though that we shall Weep: there is no­thing alter'd by that: but the Soul looks upon things with another Eye, and repre­sents them to it self with another kind of Face; for every thing has many Faces, and several Aspects. Relations, old Ac­quaintance, and Friendships, possess our Imaginations, and make them tender for the time: but the Counterturn is so quick, that 'tis gone in a Moment.

And therefore, while we would make one continued thing of all this succession of passion, we deceive our selves. When Timoleon laments the murther he had committed upon so mature, and generous deliberation, he does not lament the liber­ty restor'd to his Country, he does not la­ment the Tyrant, but he laments his Brother: One part of his duty is per­form'd, let us give him leave to perform the other.

CHAP. XXXVIII. Of Solitude.

LEt us praetermit that old comparison betwixt the active, and the solitary life, and as for the fine saying, with which Ambition and Avarice palliate their vices, [Page 425] That we are not born for our selves, but for the publick, let us boldly appeal to those who are most interested in publick affairs, let them lay their hands upon their Hearts, and then say, whether, on the contrary, they do not rather aspire to Titles and Offices, and that tumult of the World to make their private advantage at the pub­lick expence. But we need not ask them the question; for the corrupt ways by which they arrive at the height to which their ambitions aspire, does manifestly enough declare that their ends cannot be very good. Let us then tell Ambition, that it is she her self who gives us a taste of Solitude; for what does she so much avoid as Society? What does she so much seek as Elbow-room? A man may do well, or ill every where: but if what Boas says be true, that the greatest part is the worse, or what the Preacher says, that there is not one good of a thousand:

the contagion is very dangerous in the Crown. A man must either imitate the vicious; or hate them: Both are dange­rous, [Page 426] either to resemble them because they are many, or to hate many, because they are unresembling. And Merchants that go to Sea are in the right, when they are cauti­ous that those who embark with them in the same bottom, be neither dissolute Blas­phemers, nor vicious otherways; looking upon such society as unfortunate. And therefore it was, that Bias pleasantly said to some, who being with him in a dange­rous storm, implor'd the assistance of the Gods, Peace, speak softly, said he, that they may not know you are here in my com­pany: And of more pressing exemple, Al­buquerque Vice Roy in the Indies, for Ema­nuel King of Portugal, in an extream peril of Shipwrack, took a young Boy upon his Shoulders, for this only end, that in the Society of their common danger, his inno­cency might serve to protect him, and to recommend him to the Divine favour, that they might get safe to Shoar: 'Tis not that a Wise Man may not live every where content, either alone, or in the crowd of a Palace: But if it be left to his own choice, he will tell you, that he would fly the very sight of the latter: He can endure it if need be; but if it be referred to him, he will choose the first. He cannot think himself sufficiently rid of Vice, if he must yet contend with it in other Men: Charon­das ▪ Punisht those for ill Men, who were [Page 427] Convict of keeping of ill Company. There is nothing so Unsociable, and Sociable, as Man, the one by his Vice, the other by his Nature. And Antisthenes in my opini­on, did not give him a satisfactory An­swer, who Reproach'd him with frequent­ing ill Company, by saying, That the Phy­sicians Liv'd well enough amongst the Sick: for if they contribute to the health of the Sick, no doubt, but by the Contagion, continual sight of, and familiarity with Diseases, they must of necessity impair their own. Now the end I suppose is all one, to Live at more leisure, and at great­er ease: but Men do not always take the right way; for they often think, they have totally taken leave of all Business, when they have only exchang'd one Employ­ment for another. There is little less trou­ble in Governing a private Family, than a whole Kingdom: wherever the Mind is perplex'd, it is in an entire disorder, and Domestick Employments are not less trou­blesome, for being less important. More­over, for having shak'd off the Court, and Publick Employments, we have not taken leave of the principal Vexations of Life.

Our Ambition, our Avarice, Irresolution, Fears, and Inordinate Desires, do not leave us when we forsake our Native Country:

She oft follows us even to Cloisters, and Philosophical Schools; nor Desarts, nor Caves, Hair-shirts, nor Fasts, can disen­gage us from her:

One telling Socrates, that such a one was nothing Improv'd by his Travels, I very well believe it, said he, for he took himself along with him.

If a Man do not first discharge both him­self, and his Mind, of the Burthen with which he finds himself Oppress'd, Motion will but make it press the harder, and sit the heavier, as the Lading of a Ship is of less Incumbrance, when fast, and bestow'd in a settled posture; you do a Sick Man more harm than good, in removing him from place to place; you fix and establish the Disease by motion, as Stoops dive deep­er into the Earth, by being mov'd up and down in the place where they are design'd to stand. And therefore it is not enough to get remote from the Publick; 'tis not enough to shift the Soil only, a Man must flie from the Popular Dispositions that have taken possession of his Soul, he must Sequester and Ravish himself from himself.

We still carry our Fetters along with us: 'tis not an absolute Liberty, we yet cast back a kind Look upon what we have left behind us; the Fancy is still full of our old way of Living.

The Mind it self is the Disease, and can­not escape from it self;

and therefore is to be call'd home, and confin'd within it self: that is the true So­litude, and that may be enjoy'd even in Populous Cities, and the Courts of Kings, though more commodiously apart.

Now since we will attempt to Live a­lone, and to wave all manner of Conver­sation amongst Men, let us so Order it, that our Contentation may depend whole­ly upon our selves, and dissolve all Obli­gations that Ally us to others: Let us ob­tain this from our selves, that we may Live alone in good earnest, and Live at our ease too. Stilpo, having escap'd from the Fire that Consum'd the City where he Liv'd, and where he had his Wife, Children, Goods, and all that ever he was Master of, destroy'd by the Flame; Deme­trius Poliorcetes seeing him in so great a Ruine of his Country, appear with so Se­rene and Undisturb'd a Countenance, ask'd him, if he had receiv'd no Loss? To which he made Answer, No; and that, thanks be to God, nothing was lost of his; which also was the meaning of the Philo­pher Antisthenes, when he pleasantly said, [Page 432] that Men should only furnish themselves with such things as would Swim, and might with the Owner escape the Storm; and certainly, a Wise Man never loses a­ny thing, if he have himself. When the City of Nola was Ruin'd by the Barbari­ans, Paulinus, who was Bishop of that place, having there lost all he had, and himself a Prisoner, Pray'd after this man­ner, O Lord defend me from being sensible of this Loss; for thou knowest, they have yet touch'd nothing of that which is mine; The Riches that made him Rich, and the Goods that made him Good, were still kept en­tire. This it is to make choice of Trea­sures, that can secure themselves from Plunder and Violence, and to hide them in such a place, into which no one can en­ter, and that are not to be betray'd by any but our selves. Wives, Children and Goods, must be had, and especially Health, by him that can get it; but we are not so to set our Hearts upon them, that our Happiness must have its dependance upon any of these; we must reserve a Back­shop, a Withdrawing-Room, wholely our own, and entirely free, wherein to settle our true Liberty, our principal Solitude and Retreat. And in this, we must for the most part, entertain our selves with our selves, and so privately, that no Know­ledg, or Communication, of any Exotick [Page 433] Concern, be admitted there, there to Laugh, and to Talk, as if without Wife, Children, Goods, Train, or Attendance, to the end, that when it shall so fall out, that we must lose any, or all of these, it may be no new thing to be without them. We have a Mind pliable of it self, that will be Company, has wherewithal to at­tack, and to defend, to receive, and to give: Let us not then fear in this Soli­tude, to Languish under an uncomforta­ble Vacancy.

Vertue is satisfied with her self, without Discipline, without Words, without Effects. In our ordinary actions, there is not one of a thousand that concerns our selves: He that thou seest Scambling up the Ruines of that Wall, Furious, and Transported, a­gainst whom so many Harquebuze Shot are level'd; and that other all over Scars, Pale, and Fainting with Hunger, and yet resolv'd rather to Dye, than to open his Gate to Him, dost thou think that these Men are there upon their own account? No perad­venture in the behalf of one whom they never saw, and that never concerns himself [Page 434] for their Pains, and Danger, but lies Wal­lowing the while in Sloath, and Pleasure: This other Slavering, Blear-eyed, Slovenly Fellow; that thou seest come out of his Study after Midnight, dost thou think he has been Tumbling over Books, to Learn how to become a better Man, Wiser, and more Content: No such matter, he will there end his Days, but he will teach Po­sterity the measure of Plautus his Verses, and the Orthography of a Latine Word: Who is it that does not Voluntarily exchange his Health, his Repose, and his very Life for Reputation, and Glory? The most Useless, Frivolous, and false Coin that passes cur­rant amongst us: Our own Death does not sufficiently terrifie, and trouble us, let us moreover charge our selves, with those of our Wives, Children, and Family: Our own affairs do not afford us anxiety enough, let us undertake those of our Neighbours, and Friends, still more to break our Brains, and torment us.

Solitude seems to me to have the best pre­tence, in such as have already employed [Page 435] their most active and flourishing age in the Worlds service; by the exemple of Thales. We have lived enough for others, let us at least Live out the small Remnant of Life for our Selves; let us now call in our Thoughts, and Intentions to our Selves, and to our own Ease, and Repose: 'Tis no light thing to make a sure Retreat, it will be enough to do without mixing other En­terprizes, and Designs, since God gives us leisure to prepare for, and to order our re­move, let us make Ready, Truss our Baggage, take leave betimes of the Com­pany, let us disentangle our selves from those violent importunities that engage us elsewhere, and separate us from our Selves: We must break the Knot of our Obligati­ons, how strong soever, and hereafter Love this, or that; but espouse nothing, but our Selves: That is to say, let the remaind­er be our own, but not so join'd, and so close, as not to be forc'd away without flay­ing us, or tearing part of the whole piece. The greatest thing in the World is for a Man to know that he is his own: 'Tis time to wean our Selves from Society, when we can no more add any thing to it; and who is not in a Condition to Lend, must forbid himself to Borrow. Our Forces be­gin to fail us, and are of no more use for Foreign Offices; let us call them in, and Lock them up at Home: He that can with­in [Page 436] himself cast off, and Disband the Office [...] of so many Friendships, and that tumult of Conversation he has contracted in the busy World, let him do it: In this decay of na­ture, which renders him Useless, Burthen­some, and importunate to others, let him have a care of being useless, Burthensome, and importunate to himself: Let him Sooth, and Caress himself, and above all things be sure to Govern himself with Re­verence to his Reason, and Conscience to that Degree; as to be asham'd to make a false Step in their Presence. Rarum est enim, ut satis se quisque vereatur. For 'tis rarely seen that Men have Respect, and Reverence enough for themselves. Socrates says, that Boys are to cause themselves to be Instruct­ed,Pythag. Men to Exercise themselves in well do­ing, and Old Men to retire from all Civil, and Military employments, living at their own Discretion, without the Obligation to any certain Office. There are some Complexions more proper for these Pre­cepts of Retirement, than others, such as are of a Soft and Faint apprehension, and of a tender Will, and Affection, as I am, will sooner encline to this Advice, than Active and Busy Souls; which embrace all, en­gage in all, and are Hot upon every thing, who offer present, and give themselves up to every occasion. We are to serve our selves with these accidental and extraneous [Page 437] things; so far as they are pleasant to us, but by no means to lay our principal Foun­dation there. This is no true one, neither Nature, nor Reason, can allow it so to be, and why therefore should we contrary to their Laws, enslave our own contentment, by giving it into the power of another: To anticipate also the accidents of Fortune, and to deprive our selves of those things we have in our own power, as several have done upon the account of Devotion, and some Philosophers by discourse; to serve a Mans self, to lye hard, to put out our own Eyes, throw Wealth into the River, and to seek out Grief, (the one by the un­easiness, and misery of this Life, to pre­tend to bliss in another; the other by lay­ing themselves low to avoid the Danger of falling) are acts of an excessive Nature. The Stoutest, and most obstinate Natures, render even their most obstruce retire­ments Glorious, and Exemplary.Hor. l. 1. Ep. 15.

A great deal less would serve my turn well enough. 'Tis enough for me under For­tunes favour to prepare my self for her Dis­grace, and being at my ease to represent to my self, as far as my imagination can Stretch, the ill to come; as we do at Justs, and Tiltings, where we counterfeit War in the greatest Calm of Peace. I do not think Arcesilaus the Philosopher the less Tempe­rate, and Reform'd, for knowing that he made use of Gold, and Silver Vessels, when the condition of his Fortune allow'd him so to do: But have a better Opinion of him, than if he had deni'd himself what he us'd with Liberality, and Moderation, I see the utmost Limits of Natural necessity, and considering a Poor Man Begging at my Door, oft-times more Jocund, and more Healthy than I my self am, I put my self into his place, and attempt to dress my Mind after his Mode; and running in like manner over other examples, though I fan­cy Death, Poverty, Contempt, and Sick­ness treading on my Heels, I easily resolve not to be affrighted, forasmuch as a less than I takes them with so much Patience, and am not willing to believe that a less [Page 439] understanding can do more than a greater; or that the effects of precept cannot arrive to as great a height, as those of Custom: And knowing of how uncertain duration these accidental conveniences are, I never forget, in the height of all my enjoyments, to make it my cheifest Prayer to Almighty God, that he will please to render me con­tent with my self; and the Condition where­in I am. I see several Young Men very Gay, and Frolick; who nevertheless keep a Mass of Pills in their Trunck at home, to take when the Rhume shall fall, which they fear so much the less, because they think they have Remedy at hand: Every one should do the same, and moreover if they find themselves subject to some more violent Disease, should furnish themselves with such Medicines as may Numme and Stupifie the part: The employment a Man should choose for a Sedentary Life, ought neither to be a Laborious, nor an unplea­sing one, otherwise 'tis to no purpose at all to be retir'd, and this depends upon every ones liking, and humour; mine has no manner of complacency for Husbandry, and such as Love it, ought to apply them­selves to it with Moderation.

[Page 440] Husbandry is otherwise a very Servile Em­ployment, as Salust tells us; though some parts of it are more excusable than the rest, as the Care of Gardens, which Zenophon attributes to Cyrus; and a mean may be found out betwixt Sordid and Homely Af­fection, so full of perpetual Solitude, which is seen in Men who make it their entire Business and Study, and that stupid and extream Negligence, letting all things go at Random, we see in others.

But let us hear what Advice the Younger Pliny gives his Friend Caninius Rufus. Cornelius Rufus, upon the Subject of Solitude; I advise thee, in the plentiful Retirement wherein thou art, to leave to thy Hinds, and infe­riour Servants, the Care of thy Husban­dry, and to addict thy self to the Study of Letters, to extract from thence something that may be entirely and absolutely thine own. By which, he means Reputation; like Cicero, who says, that he would em­ploy his Solitude and Retirement, from Publick Affairs, to acquire by his Writings an Immortal Life.

It appears to be reason, when a Man talks of Retiring from the World, that he should look quite out of himself. These do it but by halves. They design well enough for themselves, 'tis true, when they shall be no more in it; but still they pretend to extract the fruits of that Design from the World, when absented from it, by a Ridi­culous Contradiction. The Imagination of those who seek Solitude, upon the ac­count of Devotion, filling their Hopes with certainty of Divine Promises in the other Life, is much more rationally found­ed. They propose to themselves God, an infinite Object in Goodness and Power. The Soul has there wherewithal, at full liberty, to satiate her Desires. Afflictions and Sufferings turn to their advantage, be­ing undergone for the acquisition of an e­ternal Health, and everlasting Joys. Death is to be wish'd and long'd for, where it is the passage to so perfect a Condition. And the Tartness of these severe Rules they impose upon themselves, is immedi­ately taken away by Custom, and all their [Page 442] Carnal Appetites baffled and subdu'd, by refusing to humour and feed them; they being only supported by use and exercise. This sole end therefore, of another happy and immortal Life, is that which really merits, that we should abandon the Plea­sures and Conveniences of this. And who can really and constantly enflame his Soul with the Ardour of this Lively Faith and Hope, does erect for himself in this Soli­tude, a more Voluptuous and Delicious Life, than any other sort of Living whate­ver. Neither the end then, nor the means of this Advice of Pliny, pleases me, for we often fall out of the Frying-pan into the Fire. This Book Employment is as painful as any other, and as great an Ene­my to Health, which ought to be the first thing in every Man's prospect; neither ought a Man to be allur'd with the plea­sure of it, which is the same that destroys the Wary, Avaricious, Voluptuous and Ambitious Men. The Wise give us Cau­tion enough, to beware the Treachery of our Desires, and to distinguish true and en­tire Pleasures, from such as are mix'd and complicated with greater Pain. For the greatest part of Pleasures, (say they,) Wheedle and Caress, only to strangle us, like those Thieves the Egyptians call'd Phi­liste; and if the Head-Ach should come before Drunkenness, we should have a care [Page 443] of Drinking too much: but Pleasure to deceive us, Marches before, and conceals her Train. Books are pleasant, but if by being over Studious, we impair our Health, and spoil our good Humour, two of the best Pieces we have, let us give it over; for I for my part am one of those who think, that no Fruit deriv'd from them, can recompence so great a Loss. As Men who feel themselves Weakned by a long Series of Indisposition, give themselves up at last to the Mercy of Medicine, and submit to certain Rules of Living, which they are for the future never to Transgress; so he who Retires, weary of, and disgusted, with the common way of Living, ought to Model this new One he enters into, by the Rules of Reason, and to Institute and Establish it by Premeditation, and after the best Method he can contrive. He ought to have taken leave of all sorts of Labour, what advantage soever he may propose to himself by it, and generally to have sha­ken off all those Passions which disturb the Tranquility of Body and Soul, and then choose the Way that best suits with his own Humour:

[Page 444] In Menagery, Study, Hunting, and all o­ther Exercises, Men are to proceed to the utmost limits of Pleasure, but must take heed of engaging further, where Solitude and Trouble begin to mix. We are to re­serve so much Employment only, as is ne­cessary to keep us in Breath, and to defend us from the Inconveniences, that the other Extream, of a Dull and Stupid Laziness brings along with it. There are some Ste­ril, Knotty Sciences, and chiefly Ham­mer'd out for the Crow'd; let such be left to them who are Engag'd in the Publick Service: I for my part care for no other Books, but either such, as are pleasant and easie, to delight me, or those, that com­fort and instruct me, how to Regulate my Life and Death.

Wiser Men propose to themselves a Repose wholely Spiritual, as having great force and vigour of Mind: but for me, who have a very ordinary Soul, I find it very necessary, to support my self with Bodily Conveniences; and Age having of late depriv'd me of those Pleasures that were [Page 445] most acceptable to me, I instruct and whet my Appetite to those that remain, and are more suitable to this other season. We ought to hold with all our force, both of Hands and Teeth, the use of the Pleasures of Life, that our Years, one after another, snatch away from us.

Now as to the End, that Pliny and Cicero propose to us, of Glory; 'tis infinitely wide of my account; for Ambition, is of all other, the most contrary Humour to Solitude; and Glory and Repose are so inconsistant, that they cannot possibly Inhabit in one and the same place; and for so much as I understand, those have on­ly their Arms and Legs disingag'd from the Crowd, their Mind and Intention remains engag'd behind more than ever.

They are only Retir'd to take a better [Page 446] Leap, and by a stronger Motion, to give a brisker Charge into the Crowd. Will you see how they shoot short? Let us put into the Counterpoise the Advice of two Philo­sophers, of two very different Sects, Writing, the one to Idomeneus, the other to Lucili­us, their Friends, to Retire into Solitude from Worldly Honours, and the Admini­stration of Publick Affairs. You have, say they, hitherto Liv'd Swimming and Floating, come now, and Die in the Har­bour: You have given the first part of your Life to the Light, give what remains to the Shade. It is impossible to give over Business, if you do not also quit the Fruit, and therefore disengage your selves from all the Concerns of Name and Glory. 'Tis to be fear'd, the Lustre of your for­mer Actions will give you but too much Light, and follow you into your most pri­vate, and most obscure Retreat: Quit with other Pleasures, that which proceeds from the Approbation of another: And as to your Knowledg and Parts, never concern your selves, they will not lose their effect, if your selves be ever the better for them. Re­member him, who being ask'd, why he took so much Pains in an Art, that could come to the Knowledg of but few Persons? A few are enough for me, repli'd he, I have enough of one, I have enough of never a one. He said true, you, and a Companion, are Theatre e­nough [Page 447] to one another, or you to your self. Let us be to you the whole People, and the whole People to you but one: 'Tis an un­worthy Ambition, to think to derive Glory from a Man's Sloath and Privacy: You are to do like the Beasts of Chace, who put out the Track at the entrance in­to their Den. You are no more to con­cern your self, how the World talks of you, but how you are to talk to your self: Retire your self into your self, but first prepare your self there to receive your self. It were a folly to trust your self in your own Hands, if you cannot Govern yourself, a Man may as well miscarry alone, as in Company, till you have ren­dred your self as such, as before whom you dare not Trip, and till you have a Bashfulness and Respect for your self, Ob­servantur species honestae animo, Let just and honest things be still Represented to the Mind. Cicero Thus. Quaes. 1. [...]. Present continually to your Imagination, Cato, Phocio and Antistides, in whose pre­sence, the Fools themselves will hide their Faults; and make them Controulers of all your Intentions. Should they deviate from Vertue, your Respect to them will again set you right; they will keep you in the way of being Contented with your self, to Borrow nothing of any other but your self; to restrain and fix your Soul in certain and limited Thoughts, wherein [Page 448] she may please her self, and having under­stood the true and real Goods, which Men the more enjoy, the more they understand, to rest satisfied, without desire of prolon­gation of Life or Memory. This is the Precept of the True and Natural Philoso­phy, not of a Boasting and Prating Philo­sophy, such as that of the two former.

CHAP. XXXIX. A Consideration upon Cicero.

ONe Word more by way of Compari­son, betwixt these two. There are to be gather'd out of the Writings of Ci­cero, and this Younger Pliny, (but little in my opinion, resembling his Uncle in his Humour,) infinite Testimonies of a be­yond measure, Ambitious Nature; and a­mongst others, this for one, that they both, in the sight of all the World, solicite the Historians of their time, not to forget them in their Mesmoires; and Fortune, as if in spite, has made the Vacancy of those Requests Live upon Record down to this Age of ours, when she has long since Damn'd the Histories themselves to Obli­vion. But this exceeds all meanness of [Page 449] Spirit in Persons of such Quality, as they were, to think to derive any great and living Renown from Babling and Prating; even to the Publishing of their private Letters to their Friends, and so withal, that though some of them were never sent, the opportunity being lost, they nevertheless expose them to the light, with this wor­thy excuse, that they were hereafter un­willing to lose their Labours, and have their Lucubrations thrown away. Was it not very well becoming two Consuls of Rome, Soveraign Magistrates of the Re­publick that Commanded the World, to spend their time in contriving Quaint and Elegant [...]Missives, thence to gain the Repu­tation of being Criticks, in their own Mo­ther Tongues: What could a pittiful School­master have done worse, whose trade it was to get his Living? If the Acts of Ze­nophon, and Caesar, had not far enough transcended their Eloquence, I scarce be­lieve they would ever have taken the pains, to have writ them. They made it their business to recommend not their Speaking, but their doing. And could the perfection of eloquence have added an lustre propor­tionable to the merit of a great Person, certainly Scipio, and Laelius, had never re­signed the honour of their Comedies, with all the luxuriences, and delicacies of the Latine Tongue, to an Affrican Slave; for [Page 450] that, that work was theirs, the Beauty and excellency of it do sufficiently declare; besides, Terence himself confesses as much, and I should take it ill from any one, that would dispossess me of that belief. 'Tis a kind of injurious Mockery, and Offence, to extol a Man for Qualities, misbecoming his Mertit, and Condition, though other­wise commendable in themselves, but such as ought not however to be his chiefest Talent: As if a Man should commend a King, for being a good Painter, a good Architect, a good Marksman, or a good Runner at the Ring; commendations that add no Honour, unless mentioned altoge­ther, and in the train of those that are more properly applicable to him, namely, his Justice, and the Science of Governing, and conducting his People both in Peace, and War. At this rate agriculture was an Honour to Cyrus, and Eloquence, and the knowledge of good Letters to Charle­maine. I have in my time known some, who by that Knack of Writing, have got both their Titles, and Fortune, disown their Apprenticeage, purposely corrupt their Stile, and affect ignorance in so vul­gar a quality (which also our Nation ob­serves, to be rarely seen in very intelligent hands) to seek a reputation by better qua­lities. Demosthenes, his Companions in the Embassy to Philip, extolling that Prince for [Page 451] Handsome, Eloquent, and a Stout Drinker, Demosthenes reply'd, that those were com­mendations more proper for a Woman; an Advocate, or a Spunge, than for a King.

'Tis not his profession to know either how to Hunt, or to Dance well.

Plutarch says moreover, that to appear so excellent in these less necessary Qualities, is to produce Witness against a Mans self, that he has spent his time, and apply'd his Study ill, which ought to have been em­ploy'd in the acquisition of more necessary, and more useful things, so that Philip King of Macedon, having heard that Great Alex­ander his Son, Sing once at a Feast to the Wonder, and Envy of the best Musicians there: Art not thou asham'd, said he to [Page 452] him, to Sing so well? And to the same Philip a Musician, with whom he was dis­puting about some things concerning his Art: Heav'n forbid? Sir, said he, that so great a misfortune should ever befal you, as to understand these things better than I. A King should be able to answer as Iphicrates did the Orator, who prest upon him in his invective after this manner: And what art thou, that thou brav'st it at this rate? art thou a Man at Arms, art thou an Archer, art thou a Pike? I am none of all this; but I know how to Command all these. And Antisthenes took it for an argument of little Valour, in Ismenas, that he was commend­ed for Playing excellently well upon a Flute. I know very well, that when I hear any one insist upon the Language of Essays, I had rather a great deal he would say no­thing. 'Tis not so much to elevate the Stile as to depress the Sence, and so much the more offensively, as they do it Disgrace­fully, and out of the Way. I am much deceived if many other Essayists, deliver more worth noting as to the matter, and how well, or ill soever, if any other Writer has strewed them either much more Mate­rial, or thicker upon his Paper than my self. To bring the more in, I only Muster up the Heads, should I annex the sequel, I should strangely Multiply this Volume: And how many Stories have I Scattered up [Page 453] and down, in this Book, that I only touch upon, which should any one more curious­ly search into, they would find matter e­nough to produce infinite Essays: Neither those Stories, nor my allegations do always serve simply for Example, Authority, or Ornament, I do not only regard them for the use I make of them: They carry some­times besides what I apply them to, the seed of a more Rich, and a Bolder matter, and sometimes collaterally a more delicate Sound both to me my self, who will ex­press no more in this Place, and to others who shall happen to be of my Ear.

But returning to the speaking vertue; I find no great choice betwixt, not know­ing to speak any thing but very ill, and not knowing to speak any thing but very well. Non est ornamentum virile concimitas. Seneca. Epist. 6. Neat­ness of Stile, is no Manly Ornament. The Sages tell us, that as to what concerns Knowledge, there is nothing but Philoso­phy; and to what concerns effects, no­thing but vertue, that is generally proper to all Degrees, and to all orders. There is something like this in these two other Phi­losophers, for they also promise Eternity, to the Letters they Write to their Friends; but 'tis after another manner, and by accom­modating themselves, for a good end, to the vanity of another; for they Write to them, that if the concern of making them­selves [Page 554] known to future Ages, and the Thirst of Glory, do yet detain them in the ma­nagement of publick affairs, and make them fear the Solitude, and retirement to which they would perswade them; let them never trouble themselves more about it, foras­much as they shall have Credit enough with posterity to assure them, that were there nothing else but the very Letters thus Writ to them, those Letters will render their names as known, and famous, as their own publick actions themselves could do. And besides this difference, these are not Idle, and empty Letters, that contain nothing but a fine Gingle of well chosen Words, and fine Coucht phrases, but ra­ther repleat, and abounding with Grave, and Learn'd Discourses, by which a Man may render himself not more Eloquent, but more Wise, and that instruct us not to speak, but to do well: A way with that Eloquence that so enchants us with its Har­mony, that we should more Study it than things. Unless you will allow that of Cicero, to be of so Supream a perfection, as to form a compleat Body of it self: And of him I shall further add one Story, we read of him to this purpose, wherein his nature will much more manifestly be laid open to us: He was to make an Oration in publick, and found himself a little straightned in time, to fit his Words to his Mouth, as he had a [Page 455] mind to do; when Eros one of his Slaves brought him word, that the audience was deferr'd till the next Day, at which he was so ravisht with Joy, that he enfranchis'd him for the good news.

Upon this subject of Letters, I will add this more to what has been already said, that it is a kind of Writing, wherein my Friends think I can do something; and I am willing to confess, I should rather have chose to publish my Whimsies that way, than any other, had I had to whom to Write; but I wanted such a settled Corres­pondency, as I once had to attract me to it, to raise my Fancy, and to maintain the rest against me. For to Traffick with the Wind, as some others have done, and to Forge vain Names to direct my Letters to, in a serious subject, I could never do it but in a Dream, being a sworn Enemy to all manner of falsification: I should have been more diligent, and more confidently secure, had I had a Judicious and Indulgent Friend, to whom to address, than thus to expose my self to various judgements of a whole People, and I am deceiv'd if I had not suc­ceeded better: I have naturally a Comick, and familiar Stile; but it is a peculiar one, and not proper for Publick business, but like the Language I speak, too Compact, Irregular, Abrubt, and Singular; and as to Letters of Ceremony, that have no other [Page 456] substance, than a fine contexture of cour­teous, and obliging Words, I am wholly to seek, I have neither faculty, nor relish, for those tedious offers of Service, and Af­fection; I am not good natur'd to that de­gree, and should not forgive my self, should I offer more, than I intend, which is very remote from the present practice; for there never was so abject, and servile prostitution of tenders of Life, Soul, Devotion, Adoration, Vassal, Slave, and I cannot tell what, as now; all which expressions are so commonly, and so indifferently Post­ed to and fro by every one, and to every one, that when they would profess a great­er, and more respective inclination upon more just occasions, they have not where­withal to express it: I hate all air of Flatte­ry to Death, which is the cause that I na­turally fall into a Shy, Rough, and crude way of speaking, that to such as do not know me, may seem a little to relish of disdain: I Honour those most to whom I shew the least Honour, and Respect, and where my Soul moves with the greatest Cheerfulness, I easily forget the Ceremo­nies of Look, and Gesture; I offer my self Faintly, and Bluntly, to them whose I effectually am, and tender my self the least to him, to whom I am the most de­voted: Methinks they should read it in my Heart, and that my expression would [Page 457] but injure the Love I have conceived with­in. To Welcome, take Leave, give Thanks, Accost, offer my Service, and such verbal Formalities, as the Laws of our modern civility enjoyn, I know no Man so stupidly unprovided of Language as my self: And have never been employ'd in Writing Letters of Favour, and Recom­mendation, that he, in whose behalf it was, did not think my mediation Cold, and Imperfect. The Italians are great Printers of Letters, I do believe I have at least an hundred several Volumes of them; of all which, those of Hannibal Caro, seem to me to be the best: If all the Paper I have Scribled to the Ladies all the time, when my Hand was really prompted by my Passion, were now in being, there might Peradventure be found a Page worthy to be communicated to our young enamora­to's, that are Besotted with that Fury. I always Write my Letters Post, and so pre­cipitously, that though I Write an intol­lerable ill Hand, I rather choose to do it my self, than to imploy another; for I can find none able to follow me, and never transcribe any; but have accustomed the great ones that know me to endure my Blots, and Dashes, and upon Paper without Fold, or Margent. Those that cost me the most Pains, are the worst of mine; when I once begin to draw it in by Head and [Page 458] Shoulders, 'tis a sign that I am not there▪ I fall too without premeditation, or design, the first word begets the second, and so to the end of the Chapter. The Letters of this Age consist more in fine Foldings, and Prefaces, than matter; whereas I had ra­ther Write two Letters, than Close, and Fold up one, and always assign that employ­ment to some other; as also when the busi­ness of my Letter is dispatcht, I would with all my heart transferr it to another Hand, to add those long Harangues, Offers, and Prayers, that we place at the Bottom, and should be glad that some new custom would discharge us, of that unnecessary trouble; as also of superscribing them with a long Ribble-row of Qualities, and Titles, which for fear of mistakes, I have several times given over Writing, and especially to Men of the long Robe. There are so many innovations of Offices, that 'tis hard to place so many Titles of Honour in their proper, and due order, which also being so dearly bought, they are neither to be mi­staken, nor omitted without offence. I find the same fault likewise with charging the fronts, and Title Pages of the Books we commit to the Press, with such a clut­ter of Titles.

CHAP. XL. That the Relish of Goods, and Evils, does in a great measure depend up­on the opinion we have of them.

MEn (says an ancient Greek Sentence) are tormented with the Opinions they have of things, and not by the things themselves. It were a great Victory ob­tain'd for the relief of our miserable Hu­mane Condition, could this proposition be establish'd for certain, and true throughout. For if evils have no admission into us; but by the judgement we our selves make of them, it should seem that it is then in our own power to despise them, or to turn them to good. If things sur­render themselves to our mercy, why do we not convert, and accommodate them to our advantage? If what we call Evil, and Torment, is neither Evil, nor Torment of it self, but only that our Fancy gives it that Quality, and makes it so, it is in us to change, and alter it, and it being in our own choice, if there be no constraint upon us, we must certainly be very strange Fools, to take Arms for that side, which is most offensive to us, and to give Sickness, Want, [Page 460] and contempt, a nauseous tast, if it be in our power to give them a more graceful Relish, and if Fortune simply providing the matter, 'tis for us to give it the form. Now that which we call Evil, is not so of it self, or at least to that degree that we make it; and that it depends upon us, to give it a­nother tast or complexion, (for all comes to one) let us examine how that can be maintain'd. If the original being of those things we fear, had power to lodge them­selves in us, by their own authority, it would then lodge it self alike, and in like manner in all; for Men are all of the same kind, and saving in greater, and less pro­portions, are all provided with the same utensils and instruments to conceive and to judge; but the diversity of opinions we have of those things, does clearly evidence, that they only enter us by composition: One particular Person, peradventure ad­mits them in their true being; but a thou­sand others give them a new, and contrary being in them. We hold Death, Poverty, and Grief, for our principal Enemies, but this Death which some repute, the most dreadful of all dreadful things, who does not know that others call it the only secure Harbour, from the Storms, and Tempests of Life? The Soveraign good of Nature? the sole Support of Liberty, and the Com­mon, and sudden Remedy of all Evils? And [Page 461] as the one expect it with Fear, and Trem­bling, the other support it with greater Ease than Life. That Blade complains of its facility,

But let us leave these Glorious Courages. Theodorus answer'd Lysimachus, who threat­ned to Kill him, thou wilt do a brave thing, said he, to arrive at the force of a Cantha­rides. The greatest part of Philosophers, are observ'd to have either purposely pre­vented, or hastned, and assisted their own Death. How many ordinary people do we see led to Execution, and that not to a simple Death, but mixt with Shame, and sometimes with grievous Torments, appear with such assurance, what through obstina­cy, or natural simplicity, that a Man can discover no change from their ordinary condition? Setling their Domestick affairs, recommending them to their Friends, Singing, Preaching, and Diverting the People so much, as sometimes to Sally in­to Jests, and to Drink to their Compani­ons, as well as Socrates? One that they were leading to the Gallows, told them [Page 462] they must not carry him through such a Street, lest a Merchant that lived there, should Arrest him by the way, for an old Debt. Another told the Hangman, he must not touch his Neck, for fear of ma­king him Laugh he was so Ticklish. Ano­ther answer'd his Confessor, who promised him he should that day Sup with our Lord. Do you go then, said he, in my Room; for I for my part keep fast to day. Another having call'd for Drink, and the Hangman having Drank first, said he would not Drink after him, for fear of catching the Pox. Every body has heard the Tale of the Pi­card, to whom being upon the Ladder they presented a Whore, telling him (as our Law does sometimes permit) that if he would Marry her, they would save his Life, he having a while considered her, and per­ceiving that she Halted, Come tye up, tye up, said he, she limps. And they tell ano­ther Story of the same kind, of a fellow in Denmark, who being condemn'd to lose his Head, and the like condition being propos'd to him upon the Scaffold, refus'd it, by reason the Maid they offer'd him, had hol­low Cheeks, and too sharp a Nose. A Ser­vant at Tholouse being accus'd of Heresie, for the summ of his Belief, referr'd himself to that of his Master, a young Student Prisoner with him, choosing rather to dye, than suffer himself to be perswaded, that [Page 463] his Master could err. We read that of the inhabitants of Arras, when Lewis the ele­venth took that City, a great many let themselves be Hang'd, rather than they would say, God Save the King. And a­mongst that mean-soul'd race of Men, the Buffoons, there having been some, who would not leave their Fooling at the very moment of Death. He that the Hangman turn'd off the Ladder cry'd, Launch the Galley, an ordinary foolish saying of his; and the other, whom at the point of Death his Friends having laid upon a Pallet before the Fire, the Physician asking him where his Pain lay, betwixt the Bench and the Fire, said he, and the Priest, to give him the extream Unction, Groping for his Feet, which his Pain had made him pull up to him, you will find them, said he, at the end of my Legs. To one that being present exhorted him to recommend himself to God, why who goes thither? said he; and the other replying, it will presently be your self, if it be his good pleasure; would I were sure to be there by to morrow Night, said he; do but recommend your self to him said the other, and you will soon be there: I were best then, said he, to carry my re­commendations my self. In the Kingdom of Narsingua to this day, the Wives of their Priests, are buried alive with the Bodies of their Husbands; all other Wives are burnt [Page 464] at their Husbands Funerals, which also they do not only constantly, but chearfully un­dergo: At the death of their King, his Wives, and Concubines, his Favourites, all his Officers, and Domestick servants, which make up a great number of people, present themselves so chearfully to the Fire, where his Body is burnt, that they seem to take it for a singular honour, to accompa­ny their Master in death. During our late War of Milan, where there hapned so many takings, and re-takings of Towns, the peo­ple impatient of so many various changes of Fortune, took such a resolution to dye, that I have heard my Father say, he there saw a List taken of five and twenty Masters of Families, that made themselves away in one weeks time: An accident somewhat resembling that of the Zanthians, who be­ing besieg'd by Brutus, precipitated them­selves, Men, Women, and Children, into such a furious appetite of dying, that no­thing can be done to evade death, they did not put in practice to avoid life; insomuch, that Brutus had much ado to save but a very small number. Every opinion is of force enough, to make it self to be espou­sed at the expence of life. The first Article of that valiant Oath, that Greece took, and observ'd in the Median War, was that every one should sooner exchange life for death, than their own Laws for those of Persia. [Page 465] What a World of people do we see in the Wars betwixt the Turks, and the Greeks, rather embrace a cruel death, than to un­circumcise themselves to admit of Baptism? An example of which no sort of Religion is incapable. The Kings of Castile, having Banisht the Jews out of their Dominions, John King of Portugal in consideration of eight Crowns a Head, sold them a retire­ment into his, for a certain limited time; upon condition, that the time perfixt co­ming to expire, they should be gone; and he to furnish them with Shipping, to tran­sport them into Affrick. The limited day came, which once laps'd, they were given to understand, that such as were afterwards found in the Kingdom should remain Slaves: Vessels were very slenderly provi­ded, and those who embarkt in them were rudely, and villanously used by the Seamen, who besides other indignities, kept them cruising upon the Sea, one while forwards, and another backwards, till they had spent all their provisions, and were con­strain'd to buy of them at so dear rates, and so long withal, that they set them not on Shoar, till they were all stript to the very Shirts. The news of this inhumane usage, being brought to those who remain­ed behind, the greater part of them resol­ved upon Slavery, and some made a shew of changing Religion. Emanuel the succes­sor [Page 466] for of John, being come to the Crown, first set them at liberty; and afterwards altering his mind, order'd them to depart his Country, assigning three Ports for their passage. Hoping (says the Bishop Osorius, no contemptible Latin Historian of these later times) that the favour of the liberty he had given them, having fail'd of con­vert [...]ng them to Christianity; yet the diffi­culty of committing themselves to the mer­cy of the Mariners, and of abandoning a Country they were now habituated to, and were grown very rich in, to go, and expose themselves in strange and unknown Regions, would certainly do it: But find­ing himself deceiv'd in his expectation, and that they were all resolved upon the Voy­age; he cut-off two of the three Ports he had promised them, to the end, that the length and incommodity of the passage, might reduce some; or that he might have opportunity, by crouding them all into one place, the more conveniently to execute what he had designed; which was to force all the Children under fourteen years of Age, from the Arms of their Fathers and Mothers, to transport them from their sight and conversation, into a place where they might be instructed, and brought up in our Religion. He says that this produc'd a most horrid Spectacle: The natural affection betwixt the Parents and their Children, [Page 467] and moreover their Zeal to their ancient Belief, contending against this violent De­cree. Fathers and Mothers were com­monly seen making themselves away, and by a yet much more Rigorous Example, precipitating out of Love and Compassion, their young Children into Wells and Pits, to avoid the Severity of this Law. As to the remainder of them, the time that had been prefix'd being expir'd, for want of means to transport them, they again re­turn'd into Slavery. Some also turn'd Christians, upon whose Faith, as also that of their Posterity, even to this Day, which is a Hundred Years since, few Portuguese can yet relie or believe them to be real Converts; though Custom, and length of time, are much more powerful Counsel­lors in such Changes, than all other Con­straints whatever. In the Town of Castle­nau-Darry, Fifty Hereticks, Albegeois, at one time suffer'd themselves to be Burnt alive in one Fire, rather than they would renounce their Opinions. Quoties non mo­do ductores nostri, dit Cicero,Cicero. sed universi e­tiam exercitus, ad non dubiam mortem con­currerunt? How oft, have not only our Leaders, but whole Armies, run to a cer­tain and apparent Death. I have seen an intimate Friend of mine, run headlong up­on Death with a real affection, and that was rooted in his heart by divers plausible [Page 468] Arguments, which he would never permit me to dispossess him of, upon the first Ho­nourable occasion that offer'd it self to him, to precipitate himself into it, with­out any manner of visible reason, with an obstinate and ardent desire of Dying. We have several Examples of our own times of those, even so much as to little Children, who for fear of a Whipping, or some such little thing, have dispatch'd themselves. And, what shall we not fear (says one of the Ancients to that purpose,) if we dread that, which Cowardize it self has chosen for its Refuge? Should I here produce a tedious Catalogue of those of all Sexes and Conditions, and of all sorts, even in the most happy Ages, who have either with great Constancy look'd Death in the Face, or voluntarily sought it; and sought it not only to avoid the Evils of this Life, but some, purely to avoid the Saciety of Li­ving; and others, for the hope of a better Condition elsewhere, I should never have done. Nay, the Number is so infinite, that in truth, I should have a better Bar­gain on't, to reckon up those who have fear'd it. This one therefore shall serve for all; Pyr­rho the Philosopher, being one Day in a Boat, in a very great Tempest, shew'd to those he saw the most Affrighted about him, and encourag'd them by the Exam­ple of a Hog, that was there, nothing at [Page 469] all concern'd at the Storm. Shall we then dare to say, that this advantage of Rea­son, of which we so much Boast, and up­on the account of which, we think our selves Masters and Emperours, over the rest of the Creatures, was given us for a Torment? To what end serves the Know­ledg of things, if it renders us more Un­manly? If we lose the Tranquility and Repose we should enjoy without it? And if it put us into a worse Condition, than Pyrrho's Hog? Shall we employ the Un­derstanding, that was conferr'd upon us for our greatest Good, to our own Ruine? Setting our selves against the design of Na­ture, and the universal Order of things, which intend, that every one should make use of the Faculties, Members and Means, he has, to his own best Advantage? But it may peradventure be Objected against me; Your Rule is true enough, as to what con­cerns Death: But what will you say of Necessity? What will you moreover say of Pain, that Aristippus, Hieronimus, and almost all the Wise Men, have reputed the worst of Evils? And those who have de­ny'd it by word of Mouth, did however confess it in Effects? Possidonius being ex­treamly Tormented with a sharp and pain­ful Disease, Pompeius came to Visit him, excusing himself, that he had taken so un­seasonable a time to come to hear him dis­course [Page 470] of Philosophy; God forbid, said Possidonius to him again, that Pain should ever have the power to hinder me from talking, and thereupon fell imediately up­on a discourse of the Contempt of Pain: But in the mean time, his own Infirmity was playing its part, and plagu'd him to the purpose; to which he Cry'd out, thou may'st work thy Will Pain, and Torment me with all the power thou hast, but thou shalt never make me say, that thou art an Evil. This Story that they make such a Clutter withal, what is there in it, I fain would know, to the Contempt of Pain? It only Fights it with Words, and in the mean time, if the Shootings and Dolours he felt, did not move him, why did he in­terrupt his Discourse? Why did he fancy, he did so great a thing, in forbearing to confess it an Evil? All does not here con­sist in the Imagination, our Fancies may work upon other things: But this here is a certain Science that is playing its part, of which our Senses themselves are judg.

Shall we perswade our Skins, that the Jerks of a Whip tickle us? Or our Taste, that [Page 471] a Potion of Aloes is Graves Wine. Pyr­rho's Hog is here in the same Predicament with us; he is not afraid of Death, 'tis true, but if you Beat him, he will Cry out to some purpose: Shall we force the ge­neral Law of Nature, which in every Li­ving Creature under Heaven, is seen to Tremble under Pain? The very Trees seem to Groan under the Blows they re­ceive. Death is only felt by Discourse, for­asmuch as it is the motion of an in­stant.

A Thousand Beasts, a Thousand Men, are sooner Dead than Threatned. That also which we principally pretend to Fear in Death, is Pain, the ordinary fore-runner of it: Yet, if we may believe a Holy Fa­ther, Malam mortem non facit, nisi quod se­quitur mortem. Nothing makes Death E­vil, but what follows it. And I should yet say more probably, that neither that which goes before, nor that which follows after, are at all the appendants of Death: [Page 472] We excuse our selves falsely. And I find by experience, that it is rather the impati­ence of the Imagination of Death, that makes us impatient of Pain; and that we find it doubly grievous, as it Threatens us with Death. But Reason accusing our Cowardize, for fearing a thing so sudden, so inevitable, and so insensible, we take the other as the more excusable pretence. All ills that carry no other danger along with them, but simply the Evils themselves, we despise as things of no danger. The Tooth-Ach, or the Gout, as painful as they are, being yet not reputed Mortal, who reckons them in the Catalogue of Diseases? But let us presuppose, that in Death we principal­ly regard the Pain, as also, there is no­thing to be fear'd in Poverty, but the Mi­series it brings along with it, of Thirst, Hunger, Cold, Heat, Watching, and the other Inconveniences it makes us suffer, yet still we have nothing to do with any thing but Pain. I will grant, and very willingly, that it is the worst Accident of our Being, (for I am the Man upon Earth, that the most Hates, and avoids it, consi­dering, that hitherto I thank God I have had so little Traffick with it,) but still it is in us, if not to annihilate, at least, to lessen it by Patience, and though the Body should Mutiny, to Maintain the Soul ne­vertheless in a good Temper. And were [Page 473] it not so, who had ever given Reputation to Vertue, Valour, Force, Magnanimity, and Resolution? where were their parts to be plaid, if there were no Pain to be Defi'd? Avida est periculi virtus. Seneca. Vertue is greedy of danger. Were there no lying upon the hard ground, no enduring, arm'd at all pieces, the Meridional Heats, no feeding upon the flesh of Horses, and As­ses, no seeing a Man's self hack'd and hew'd to pieces, no suffering a Bullet to be pull'd out from amongst the shatter'd Bones, the sticking up, cauterising, and searching of Wounds, by what means were the advantage we covet to have over the Vulgar to be acquir'd? 'Tis far from flying Evil and Pain, what the Sages say, that of Actions equally good, a Man should most covet to perform that wherein there is greater Labour and Pain.Cicero de [...]in. l. 2. Non est enim hilaritate, nec lascivia, nec risu, aut joco comite levitatis, sed saepe etiam tristes firmitate, & constantia sunt beati. For Men are not only happy by Mirth and Wanton­ness, neither by Laughter and Jesting, the Companion of Levity: But oft times, the Graver and more Melancholick sort of Men, reap Felicity from their Steadiness and Constancy. And for this reason, it has ever been impossible to perswade our Fore-fathers, but that the Victories obtain'd by dint of Force, and the hazard of War, [Page 474] were still more Honourable, than those perform'd in great Security, by Stratagem or Practice.

Besides, this ought to be our comfort, that naturally, if the Pain be violent, 'tis but short, and if long, nothing violent. Si gravis, Cicero. brevis: si longus, levis. Thou wilt not feel it long, if thou feel'st it too much, it will either put an end to it self, or to thee; if thou canst not support it, it will export thee. Memineris maximos morte finiri; Cicero de fin. parvos multa habere interval­la requietis: mediocrium nos esse dominos: ut si tolerabiles sint, feramus; sin minus, e vita, quum ea non placeat tanquam e theatro exeamus. Remember, that great ones are terminated by Death, that small, have long Intermissions of Repose, and that we are Masters of the moderate sort: so that, if tollerable, we may bear them, if not, we can go out of Life, as from a Theatre, where the Entertainment does not please us; that which makes us suffer Pain with so much Impatience, is the not being ac­customed to repose our chiefest Content­ment in the Soul, that we do not enough [Page 475] relie upon her who is the sole and sove­raign Mistress of our Condition. The Bo­dy, saving in greater or less proportion, has but one and the same Bent and Bias; whereas the Soul is variable into all sorts of forms; and subjects to her self, and to her own Empire, all things whatsoever; both the Senses of the Body, and all other Accidents: and therefore it is, that we ought to study her, to enquire into her, and to rowse up all her powerful Faculties. There is neither Reason, Form, nor Pre­scription, that can any thing prevail against her Inclination and Choice; of so many Thousands of Biasses that she has at her dis­posal, let us give her one proper to our re­pose and conservation, and then we shall not only be shelter'd and secur'd from all manner of Injury and Offence, but more­over gratified and oblig'd, if we will, with Evils and Offences. She makes her profit indifferently of all things. Errour and Dreams serve her to good use, as a Loyal matter to Lodg us in Safety and Content­ment. 'Tis plain enough to be seen, that 'tis the sharpness of our Conceit, that gives the Edg to our Pains and Pleasures. Beasts that have no such thing, leave to their Bo­dies their own free and natural Sentiments, and consequently, in every kind very near the same, as appears by the resembling Ap­plication of their Motions. If we would [Page 476] not disturb, in our Members, the Jurisdi­ction that appertains to them in this, 'tis to be believed, it would be the better for us, and that Nature has given them a just and moderate Temper, both to Pleasure and Pain; neither can it fail of being Just, being Equal, and Common. But seeing we have Enfranchis'd our selves from these Rules, to give our selves up to the ram­bling Liberty of our own Fancies, let us at least help to encline them to the most a­greeable side. Plato fears our too vehe­mently engaging our selves with Grief and Pleasure, forasmuch as these too much Knit and Ally the Soul to the Bo­dy: whereas I rather, quite contrary, by reason it too much separates and disunites them. As an Enemy is made more Feirce by our Flight, so Pain grows Proud to see us Truckle under it. She will surrender upon much better Terms to them who make Head against her: A Man must op­pose, and stoutly set himself against it. In retiring and giving ground, we invite, and pull upon our selves the Ruine that Threa­tens us. As the Body is more firm in an Encounter, the more stifly and obstinately it applys it self to it; so is it with the Soul. But let us come to Examples, which are the proper Commodity for Fellows of such feeble Reins as my self; where we shall find, that it is with Pain, as with Stones, that [Page 477] receive a more spritely, or a more lan­guishing Lustre, according to the Foil they are set upon, and that it has no more room in us, than we are pleas'd to allow it. Tan­tum doluerunt, Aug. de Ci­vit. Dei. quantum doloribus se inserve­runt. They Griev'd so much the more, by how much they set themselves to Grieve. We are more sensible of one little touch of a Chyrurgeons Lancet, than of Twenty Wounds with a Sword in the heat of Fight. The Pains of Child-bearing, said by the Physician, and by God himself, to be very great, and which our Women keep so great a Clutter about, there are whole Nations that make nothing of it. To say nothing of the Lacedemonian Women, what alteration can you see in our Switzers Wives of the Guard, saving, as they trot after their Husbands, you see them to Day with the Child hanging at their Backs, that they carried yesterday in their Bel­lies? And the counterfeit Gipsies we have amongst us, go themselves to Wash their's so soon as they come into the World, in the first River they meet. Besides so ma­ny Whores as Daily steal their Children out of their Womb, as before they stole them in; that fair and noble Wife of Sa­binus, a Patrician of Rome, for anothers interest, alone, without help, without cry­ing out, or so much as a Groan, endur'd the Bearing of Two Twins. A poor simple [Page 478] Boy of Lacedemon having stole a Fox, (for they more fear the Shame of their Knave­ry in stealing, than we do the Punishment of our Knavery,) and having got him under his Coat, did rather endure the tear­ing out of his Bowels, than he would dis­cover his Theft. And another Cursing at a Sacrifice, suffer'd himself to be Burnt to the Bone, by a Coal that fell into his Sleive, rather than disturb the Ceremony. And there have been a great Number, for a sole Trial of Vertue, following their in­structions, who have at Seven Years old endur'd to be Whipt to Death, without changing their Countenance. And Cicero has seen them Fight in Parties, with Fists, Feet and Teeth, till they have fainted and sunk down, rather than confess themselves overcome. Custom would never Conquer Nature, for she is ever Invincible, but we have infected the Mind with Shadows, Delights, Wantonness, Negligence and Sloath; and with vain Opinions, and cor­rupt Manners, render'd it Effeminate and Mean. Every one knows the Story of Scevola, that being slipt into the Enemies Camp to Kill their General, and having miss'd his Blow, to repair his fault, by a more strange Invention, and to deliver his Country, he boldly confess'd to Porsenna, (who was the King he had a purpose to Kill,) not only his design, but moreover [Page 479] added, that there were then in his Camp a great Number of Romans, his Complices in the Enterprize, as good Men as he; and to shew what a one he himself was, having caus'd a Pan of Burning Coals to be brought, he saw, and endur'd his Arm to Broil and Roast, till the King himself, con­ceiving Horrour at the sight, commanded the Pan to be taken away. What would you say of him, that would not vouchsafe to respite his Reading in a Book, whilst he was under Incision? And of the other that persisted to Mock and Laugh, in Contempt of the Pains Inflicted upon him; so that the provok'd Cruelty of the Executioners that had him in handling, and all the In­ventions of Tortures redoubled upon him, one after another, spent in vain, gave him the Bucklers? But he was a Philosopher. What! a Fencer of Caesar's, Endur'd and Laughing all the while, his Wounds to be search'd, Launc'd and laid open. Quis me­diocris gladiator ingenuit? Cicero Thus. l. 2. Quis vultum mu­tavit unquam? Quis non modo stet it, verum etiam decubuit turbiter? Quis cum decubuis­set, ferrum recipere jussus, collum contraxit? What mean Fencer ever so much as gave a Groan? Which of them ever so much as chang'd his Countenance? Which of them standing or falling, did either with Shame? Which of them, when he was down, and commanded to receive the Blow of the [Page 480] Sword, ever shrunk in his Neck? Let us bring in the Women too. Who has not heard at Paris of her that caus'd her Face to be fley'd, only for the fresher Com­plexion of a new Skin? There are who have drawn good and sound Teeth, to make their Voices more soft and sweet, or to place them in better Order. How ma­ny Examples of the Contempt of Pain have we in that Sex? What can they not do? What do they fear to do, for never so lit­tle hopes of an Addition to their Beauty?

I have seen some of them swallow Sand, Ashes, and do their utmost to destroy their Stomachs, to get Pale Complexions. To make a fine Spanish Body, what Wracks will they not endure of Tweaking and Bracing, till they have Notches in their Sides, cut into the very quick Flesh, and sometimes to Death? It is an ordinary thing with several Nations at this Day, to hurt themselves in good earnest, to gain credit to what they profess; of which, our King relates notable Examples of what he has seen in Poland, and done towards him­self. [Page 481] But besides this, which I know to have been imitated by some in France, when I came from that famous Assembly of the Estates at Blois, I had a little be­fore seen a Maid in Picardy, who to mani­fest the Ardour of her Promises, as also her Constancy, give her self, with a Bodkin she wore in her Hair, Four or Five good lusty Stabs into the Arm, till the Blood gush'd out to some purpose. The Turks make themselves great Skars in Honour of their Mistresses, and to the end they may the longer remain, they presently clap Fire to the Wound, where they hold it an in­credible time to stop the Blood, and form the Cicatrice; People that have been Eye­witnesses of it, have both Writ and Sworn it to me. But for Ten Aspers, there are there every day Fellows to be found, that will give themselves a good deep slash in the Arms or Thighs. I am willing, though to have the Testimonies nearest to us, when we have most need of them; for Chri­stendom does furnish us with enow. And after the Example of our Blessed Guide, there have been many who would bear the Cross. We Learn by Testimony, ve­ry worthy of belief, that the King St. Lewis wore a Hair-shirt, till in his old Age his Confessor gave him a Dispensation to leave it off; and that every Friday he caus'd his Shoulders to be drubb'd by his [Page 482] Priest with Six small Chains of Iron, which were always carried about amongst his Night Accoutrements for that purpose William our last Duke of Guienne, the Fa­ther of this Eleanor who has Transmitted this Dutchy into the Houses of France and England, continually for Ten or Twelve Years before he Died, wore a Suit of Arms under a Religious Habit, by way of Pe­nance. Fulke Count of Anjou, went as far as Jerusalem, there to cause himself to be Whipt by Two of his Servants, with a Rope about his Neck, before the Sepul­chre of our Lord: But do we not more­over every Good Friday, in several places, see great number of Men and Women, Beat and Whip themselves till they Lace­rate and Cut the Flesh to the very Bones? I have often seen this, and without En­chantment, when it was said, there were some amongst them, (for they go dis­guis'd,) who for Mony undertook by this means to save harmless the Religion of o­thers, by a contempt of Pain, so much the greater, as the Incentives of Devotion are more effectual, than those of Avarice. Q. Maximus Buried his Son, when he was a Consul; and M. Cato his, when Praetor Elect; and L. Paulus both his, within a few Days one after another, with such a Countenance as express'd no manner of Grief. I said once Merrily of a certain [Page 483] Person, that he had disappointed the Di­vine Justice; for the Violent Death of Three grown up Children of his, being one Day sent him, for a severe Scourge, as it is to be suppos'd, he was so far from be­ing Afflicted at the Accident, that he ra­ther took it for a particular Grace and Fa­vour of Heaven. I do not follow these Monstrous Humours, though I lost Two or Three at Nurse, if not without Grief, at least, without Repining, and yet there is hardly any Accident, that pierces near­er to the quick. I see a great many other occasions of Sorrow, that should they hap­pen to me, I should hardly feel; and have despis'd some when they have befallen me, to which the World have given so Terri­ble a Figure, that I should Blush to Boast of my Constancy. Ex quo intelligitur, non in Natura, sed in opinione esse aegritudinem. By which it is understood,Cicero. that the Grief is not in Nature, but Opinion. Opinion is a Powerful Party, Bold, and without Mea­sure. Who ever so greedily hunted after Security and Repose, as Alexander and Caesar did after Disturbances and Difficul­ties? Terez the Father of Sitalcez, was wont to say, that when he had no Wars, he fancied there was no difference be­twixt him and his Groom. Cato the Con­sul, to secure some Cities of Spain from Revolt, only interdicting the Inhabitants [Page 484] from wearing Arms, a great many [...] themselves: Ferox gens, nullam vitam [...] sine armis esse. A Fierce People, who though there was no Life without Arms. How many do we know, who have forsake [...] the Calms and Sweetness of a Quiet Life at Home amongst their Acquaintance, t [...] seek out the Horrour of Inhabitable D [...]sarts; and having precipitated themselve [...] into so Abject a Condition, as to become the Scorn and Contempt of the World have hug'd themselves with the Conceit even to Affectation. Cardinal Barromeu [...] who Died lately at Milan, in the midst of all the Jollity that the Air of Italy, [...] Youth, Birth and great Riches invite [...] him to, kept himself in so Austere a way of Living, that the same Robe he wore [...] Summer, serv'd him for Winter too: [...] only Straw for his Bed, and his Hours o [...] vacancy from the Affairs of his Employ­ment, he continually spent in Study, up­on his Knees, having a little Bread and a Glass of Water set by his Book, which wa [...] all the Provision of his Repast, and all the time he spent in Eating. I know some who consentingly have Acquir'd both Pro­fit and Advancement from Cuckoldry, [...] which the bare Name only affrights so ma­ny People. If the Sight be not the most necessary of all our Senses, 'tis at least, the most pleasant: But the most pleasant and [Page 485] most useful of all our Members, seem to [...]e those of Generation, and yet a great many have conceiv'd a Mortal Hatred a­gainst them, only for this, that they were [...] Amiable, and have depriv'd themselves of them, only for their Value. As much thought he of his Eyes, that put them out. The generality, and more solid sort of Men, look upon abundance of Children as a great Blessing; I, and some others, think it as a great Benefit to be without them. And when you ask Thales, why he does not Marry, he tells you, because he has no mind to leave any Posterity be­hind him. That our Opinion gives the value to things, is very manifest in a great many of these which we do not so much regard to prize them, but our selves; and never consider, either their Vertues, or their Use; but only how dear they cost us: As though that were a part of their substance: And we only repute for value in them, not what they bring to us, but what we add to them. By which I under­stand, that we are great managers of our Expence. As it weighs, it serves for so much as it weighs; our Opinion will ne­ver suffer it to want of its value. The Price gives valeue to the Diamond, Diffi­culty to Vertue, Suffering to Devotion, and Griping to Physick. A certain Per­son, to be Poor, threw his Crowns into [Page 486] the same Sea, to which so many came from all parts of the World to Fish and Ri­fle for Riches. Epicurus says, That to be Rich, is no Advantage, but only an alte­ration of Affairs. In plain truth, it is not Want, but rather Abundance, that Creates Avarice. Neither will I stick to deliver my own Experience concerning this Af­fair.

I have since my Child-hood Liv'd in Three sorts of Conditions; the First, which continued for some Twenty Years, I past over without any other means, but what were Accidental, and depending up­on the allowance and assistance of others, without Stint, or certain Revenue. I then spent my Money so much the more chear­fully, and with so much the less care how it went, as it wholely depended upon my over-confidence of Fortune; and never Liv'd more at my ease, I never had the re­pulse of finding the Purse of any of my Friends shut against me, having enjoin'd my self this Necessity above all other Ne­cessities whatever, by no means to fail of Payment at the appointed time, which al­so they have a Thousand times respited, seeing how careful I was to satisfie them; so that I practis'd at once a Thrifty, and withal, a kind of alluring Honesty. I na­turally feel a kind of pleasure in Paying, as if I eas'd my Shoulders of a troublesome [Page 487] Weight, and in freeing my self from that Image of Slavery; as also, that I find a ravishing kind of satisfaction, in pleasing another by doing a Just Action. Those kind of payments excepted, where the trouble of reckoning and dodging are re­quir'd, and in such cases, where I can meet with no Body to ease me of that hateful Torment, I avoid them, how scan­dalously and injuriously soever, all I possi­bly can, for fear of those little wrangling Disputes, for which, both my humour, and way of speaking, are so totally im­proper and unfit. There is nothing I hate so much, as driving on a Bargain; 'tis a meer Traffick of Couzenage and Im­pudence: where after an Hours cheapning and dodging, both Parties abandon their Word and Oath for Five Sols profit, or a­batement. And yet I always borrow'd at great disadvantage, for wanting the confi­dence to speak to the person my self, I committed my Request to the perswasion of a Ticket, which usually is no very suc­cessful Advocate, and is of very great ad­vantage to him who has a mind to deny. I in those Days more jocundly and freely referr'd the Conduct of my Affairs to the Stars, than I have since done to my own Providence and Judgment. Most good Husbands look upon it is a horrible thing to Live always thus in incertainty, and are [Page 488] not aware, in the first place, that the great­est part of the World Live so. How ma­ny Worthy Men have wholely slighted and abandon'd the certainty of their own E­states, and yet Daily do it, to trust to the inconstant Favour of Princes, and fickle Fortune? Caesar ran above a Million of Gold, more than he was worth, in Debt, to become Caesar. And how many Mer­chants have begun their Traffick by the Sale of their Farms, which they sent into the Indies. ‘Cat. Epig. 4Tot per impotentia freta?’ In so great a Siccity of Devotion, as we see in these Days, we have a Thousand and a Thousand Colledges, that pass it over commodiously enough, expecting every Day their Dinner from the Liberality of Heaven. Secondly, They do not take no­tice, that this Certitude upon which they so much relie, is not much less uncertain and hazardous, than Hazard it self. I see Misery as near beyond Two Thousand Crowns a Year, as if it stood close by me; for be­sides, that it is in the power of Chance to make a Hundred Breaches to Poverty, through the greatest strength of our Riches, (there being very often no Mean, betwixt the highest and the lowest For­tune.)

And to turn all our Barricado's and Bul­works Topsie Turvy; I find that by di­vers Causes, Indigence is as frequently seen to Inhabit with those who have E­states, as with those that have none; and peradventure, it is then far less Grievous, when alone, than when accompanied with Riches; which flow more from good Ma­nagery, than Income.Sen. Ep. 47. Faber est suae qius­que Fortunae. Every one is the Hammerer of his own Fortune, and an uneasie, ne­cessituos, busie Man, seems to me more Miserable, than he that is simply Poor. In divitiis in opes, quod genus egestatis gravis­simum est. Poor in the midst of Riches, which is the most insupportable kind of Poverty. The greatest and most wealthy Princes, are by Poverty and Want driven to the most extream Necessity: for can there be any more Extream, than to be­come Tyrants, and unjust Usurpers, of their Subjects Goods and Estates?

My Second Condition of Life was, to have Mony of my own; wherein I so order'd the matter, that I had soon laid up a very notable Summ out of so mean a For­tune; [Page 490] considering with my self, that that only was to be reputed having, which a Man reserv'd from his ordinary Expence, and that a Man could not absolutely relie upon Revenue to receive, how clear soe­ver his Estate might be. For what, said I, if I should be surpriz'd by such or such an Accident? And after such like vain and vicious Imaginations, would very Learn­edly, by this hoarding of Mony, provide against all Inconveniences; and could moreover answer, such as objected to me, that the number of them was too infinite, that it I could not lay up for all, I could however do it at least for some, and for many. Yet was not this done without a great deal of Solicitude and Anxiety of Mind. I kept it very close, and though I dare talk so boldly of my self, never spoke of my Mony, but falsely, as others do, who being Rich, pretend to be Poor, and being Poor, pretend to be Rich, dispensing with their Consciences for ever telling sin­cerely what they have. A ridiculous and shameful Prudence. Was I to go a Jour­ney? methought I was never enough pro­vided: and the more I loaded my self with Mony, the more also was I loaded with Fear, one while of the danger of the Roads, another of the Fidelity of him who had the charge of my Sumpters, of whom, as some others that I know, I was never [Page 491] sufficiently Secure, if I had him not always in my Eye. If I chanc'd to leave the Key of my Cabinet behind me, what strange Jealousies, and Anxiety of Mind did I en­ter into? And which was worse, without daring to acquaint any Body with it. My Mind was eternally taken up with such things as these, so that all things consider'd, there is more trouble in keeping Mony, than in getting it. And if I did not alto­gether so much as I say, or was not effe­ctually so scandalously solicitous of my Mony, as I have made my self; yet it cost me something at least to govern my self from being so, I reapt little or no advantage by what I had, and my Expences seem'd nothing less to me, for having the more to spend: For, as Bion said, The Hairy Men are as angry as the Ball'd to be pull'd; and after you are once accustomed to it, and have once set your heart upon your heap, it is mo more at your Service, you cannot find in your heart to break it: 'Tis a Build­ing that you will fancy, must of necessity all tumble down to Ruine, if you stir but the least Pibble, Necessity must first take you by the Throat, before you can pre­vail upon your self to touch it: And I would sooner have pawn'd any thing I had, or sold a House, and with much less constraint upon my self, than have made the least breach in that beloved Purse, I [Page 492] had so cunningly laid by. But the danger was, that a Man cannot easily prescribe certain limits to this desire, (for they are hard to find in things that a Man con­ceives to be good,) and to stint this good Husbandry so, that it may not degenerate into Avarice: Men still being intent upon adding to the heap, and encreasing the stock, from Sum to Sum, till at last they vilely deprive themselves of the enjoy­ment of their own proper Goods, and throw all into reserve, without making any use of them at all. According to this Rule, they are the Richest People in the World, who are set to guard the Goals, and to defend the Walls of a Wealthy Ci­ty. All Mony'd Men I conclude to be Co­vetous. Plato places Corporal or Humane Riches in this Order; Health, Beauty, Strength and Riches; and Riches, says he, is not blind, but very clear sighted, when illuminated by Prudence. Dionysius the Son, did a very handsome Act upon this subject. He was inform'd, that one of the Syracusans had hid a Treasure in the Earth, and thereupon sent to the Man to bring it to him, which he accordingly did, pri­vately reserving a small part of it only to himself, with which he went to another City, where being cur'd of his Appetite of Hoarding, he began to Live at a more li­beral Rate. Which Dionysius hearing, [Page 493] caus'd the rest of his Treasure to be restored to him, saying, that since he had learnt how to use it, he very willingly re­turned it back unto him.

I continued some years in this hoarding humour, when I know not what good De­mon fortunately put me out of it, as he did the Syracusan, and made me throw abroad all my reserve at random; the pleasure of a certain Voyage I took of very great ex­pence, having made me spurn this fond Love of Money under foot, by which means I am now fallen into a third way of living, (I speak what I think of it) doubtless much more pleasant and moderate, which is, that I live at the height of my Revenue, some­times the one, sometimes the other may per­haps exceed, but 'tis very little, and but rarely that they differ at all; I live from Hand to Mouth, and content my self in having sufficient for my present, and ordi­nary expence; for as to extraordinary oc­casions, all the laying up in the World would never suffice; and 'tis the greatest folly imaginable to expect, that fortune should ever sufficiently arm us against her self. 'Tis with our own arms that we are to fight her, accidental ones will betray us in the pinch of the business. If I lay up, 'tis for some near and designed expence, and not to purchase Lands, of which I have no need, but to purchase pleasure. Non esse [Page 494] cupidum, Cicero Parad. Ulti. pecunia est: non esse emacem, ver­tigal est. Not to be Covetous, is Money, not to be a Purchaser, is a Tribute. I nei­ther am in any great apprehension of want­ing, nor in any desire of any more; Divi­narum fructus est in copia; copiam declarat satietas. Ibid. The fruits of Riches lies in abun­dance, saciety declares abundance. And I am very well pleased with my self, that this reformation in me, has fallen out in an age naturally enclined to avarice, and that I see my self clear'd of a folly so com­mon to Old Men, and the most ridiculous of all humane follies. Feraulez a Man that had run through both fortunes, and found that the encrease of substance, was no en­crease of appetite, either to Eating, or Drinking, Sleeping, or the enjoyment of his Wife, and who on the other side, felt the care of his Oeconomy lye heavy upon his Shoulders, as it does on mine; was re­solved to please a poor Young Man his faith­ful friend, who panted after Riches, by making him a gift of all his, which was excessively great, and moreover of all he was in the daily way of getting by the liberality of Cyrus, his good master, and and by the War; conditionally that he should take care handsomly to maintain, and plentifully to entertain him, as his Host, and his Friend; which being accord­ingly embract, and performed, they after­wards [Page 495] liv'd very happily together, both of them equally content with the change of their condition. An example that I could imitate with all my heart. And very much approve the fortune of an ancient Prelate, whom I see to have so absolutely stript himself of his Purse, his Revenue, and Care; of his Expence; committing them one while to one trusty Servant, and ano­ther while to another, that he has spun out a long succession of years, as ignorant by this means of his Domestick affairs, as a meer stranger. The confidence of ano­ther Mans vertue, is no light evidence of a Mans own; besides, God is pleased to fa­vour such a confidence, as to what con­cerns him of whom I am speaking, I see no where a better govern'd Family, nor a House more nobly, and constantly main­tained than his, happy in this to have sta­ted his affairs to so just a proportion, that his Estate is sufficient to do it without his care, or trouble, and without any hinde­rance, either in the spending, or laying it up; to his other more decent, and quiet employments, and that are more suitable both to his place, and liking. Plenty then and indigence depend upon the opi­nion every one has of them; and Riches no more than Glory, or Health, have no more either Beauty, or Pleasure, than he is pleas'd to lend them, by whom they are [Page 496] possest. Every one is well, or ill at ease, according as he finds himself: Not he whom the World believes, but he who be­lieves himself to be so is content; and in him alone belief gives it self being, and rea­lity. Fortune does us neither good, nor hurt; she only presents us the matter, and the seed, which our soul, more powerful than she, turns and applies as she best pleases; being the sole cause, and Soveraign Mi­stress of her own happy, or unhappy con­dition. All external accessions receive taste and Colour, from the internal constitution, as Cloaths warm us, not with their Heat, but our own, which they are fit to cover and keep in; and who would cover a cold body, would do the same service for the cold, for so Snow and Ice are preserved. And after the same manner that Study is a torment to a truant, abstinence from Wine to a good fellow, frugality to the Spend-thrift, and exercise to a Lazy tender bred fellow; so it is of all the rest. The things are not so painful, and difficult of them­selves, but our weakness or cowardise makes them so. To judge of great, and high matters, requires a suitable soul, o­therwise we attribute the vice to them, which is really our own. A straight Oar seems crooked in the Water: It does not only import that we see the thing, but how, and after what manner we see it. [Page 497] But after all this, why amongst so many discourses, that by so many arguments perswade Men to despise death, and to endure pain, can we not find out one that makes for us? And of so many sorts of imaginations as have so prevailed upon o­thers, as to perswade them to do so, why does not every one apply some one to himself, the most suitable to his own hu­mour? If he cannot away with a strong working Aposence to eradicate the Evil, let him at least take a Lenitive to ease it. Opinio est quedam effeminata, ac levis: Cicero. Thus. lib. 2. nec in dolore magis, quam eadem in voluptate: qua quum liquessimus fluimusque mollitia, apis aculeum sine clamore ferre non possumus. To­tum in eo est, ut tibi imperes. There is a certain light, and effeminate opinion, and that not more in pain, than it is even in pleasure it self; by which, whilst we rest and Wallow in ease, and wantonness, we cannot endure so much as the stinging of a Bee, without roaring. All that lies in it is only this, to command thy self: As to the rest, a Man does not trangress Philo­sophy, by permitting the acrimony of pains, and humane frailty to prevail so much above measure; for they will at last be reduc'd to these invincible replies. If it be ill to live in necessity, at least there is no necessity upon a man to live in ne­cessity. No man continues ill long [Page 498] but by his own fault. And who has nei­ther the Courage to Die; nor the Heart to Live: who will neither resist nor fly, what should a Man do to him.

CHAP. XLI. Not to Communicate a Mans Honour.

OF all the follies of the World, that which is most universally receiv'd, is the solicitude of Reputation and Glory; which we are fond of to that degree, as to abandon Riches, Peace, Life, and Health, which are effectual, and substantial goods, to pursue this vain Phantome, and empty word, that has neither body; nor hold to be taken of it. Tasso. Can­ [...] 10.

[Page 499] And of all the irrational humours of Men, it should seem that even the Philosophers themselves have the most ado, and do the latest disengage themselves from this, as the most resty and obstinate of all humane follies. ‘Quia etiam bene proficientes animos tentare non tessat.Aug. de Civet. Dei.’ Because it ceases not to attaque even the wisest, and best letter'd minds. There is not any one vice, of which reason does so clearly accuse the va­nity, as of that; but it is so deeply rooted in us, that I dare not determine, whether any one ever clearly depestred himself from it or no. After you have said all, and be­lieved all has been said to its prejudice, it creates so intestine inclination in opposition to your best arguments, that you have little power, and constancy to resist it: for (as Cicero says) even those who most controvert it, would yet that the Books they write should visit the light under their own names, and seek to derive glory from seeming to despise it. All other things are communicable, and fall into commerce; we lend our goods, and stake our Lives for the necessity, and service of our friends; but to communicate a man's Honour, and and to robe another with a man's own Glory, is very rarely seen. And yet we have some examples of that kind. Catulus Luctatius in the Cymbrian War, having done all that in him lay to make his flying [Page 500] Souldiers face about upon the Enemy, ran himself at last away with the rest, and coun­terfeited the Coward, to the end his men might rather seem to follow their Captain, than to fly from the Enemy; which was to abandon his own reputation, to palli­ate the shame of others. When Charles the Fifth came into Provence in the year 1537. 'tis said, that Antonio de Leva see­ing the Emperour positively resolv'd up­on this expedition, and believing it would redound very much to his honour, did never­theless very stiffly oppose it in the Council, to the end that the entire glory of that reso­lution should be attributed to his Master; and that it might be said, his own Wis­dome and foresight had been such, as that, contrary to the opinion of all, he had brought about so great, and so generous an enterprize; which was to do him ho­nour at his own expence. The Thracian Em­bassadors, coming to comfort Archileonida the Mother of Brasidas upon the death of her Son, and commending him to that height, as to say he had not left his like be­hind him; she rejected this private, and particular commendation to attribute it to the publick: Tell me not that (said she) I know the City of Sparta has several Citi­zens both greater, and of greater valour than he. In the Battel of Cressy, the Prince of Wales, being then very young, had the [Page 501] Vantguard committed to him, and the main stress of the Battel hapned to be in that place, which made the Lords that were with him, finding themselves over­matcht, to send to King Edward, that he would please to advance to their relief; who thereupon enquiring of the condition his Son was in, and being answered, that he was yet living, and on Horse-back: I should then do him wrong (said the King) now to go, and deprive him of the honour of winning this Battel he has so long, and so bravely disputed, what hazard soever he runs, it shall be entirely his own: and accordingly would neither go nor send, knowing that if he went, it would be said all had been lost without his succour, and that the honour of the Victory would be wholly attributed to him. Semper enim quod postremum adjectum est, id rem totam videtur traxisse. For the last stroak to a business seems to draw along with it the perfor­mance of the whole action. Many at Rome thought, and would usually say, that the greatest of Scipio's Acts, were in part due to Lelius, whose constant practice it was still to advance, and Shoulder Scipio's Grandeur and Renown, without any care of his own. And Theopompus King of Sparta to him who told him the republick could not miscarry since he knew so well how to command, 'Tis rather (answered he) because the peo­ple [Page 502] know so well how to obey. As Women succeeding to Peerages, had notwithstand­ing their sex the priviledge to assist, and give in their Votes in the Causes that apper­tained to the jurisdiction of Peers: So the Ecclesiastical Peers notwithstanding their profession, were obliged to assist our Kings in their Wars, not only with their friends and servants, but in their own persons. As the Bishop of Beauvais did, who being with Philip Augustus at the Battel of Bouvines, had a notable share in that action; but he did not think it fit for him to participate in the Fruit and Glory of that violent and Bloody Trade. He with his own Hand re­duc'd several of the Enemy that day to his mercy, whom he delivered to the first Gen­tleman he met either to kill or receive them to Quarter, referring the execution to ano­ther hand. As also did William Earl of Sa­lisbury to Messire Jean de Nesle, with a like subtlety of conscience to the other we na­med before, he would Kill, but not wound him, and for that reason ever fought with a Mace. And a certain person of my time, being reproacht by the King, that he had laid hands on a Priest, stiffly and positive­ly deny'd he had done any such thing: the meaning of which was, he had cudgell'd and kick'd him.

CHAP. XLII. Of the Inequality amongst us.

PLutarch says somewhere, that he does not find so great a difference betwixt Beast and Beast, as he does betwixt Man and Man. Which is said in reference to the internal Qualities and Perfections of the Soul. And, in truth, I find, (ac­cording to my poor Judgment,) so vast a distance betwixt Epaminondas, and some that I know, (who are yet Men of com­mon sense,) that I could willingly en­hance upon Plutarch, and say, that there is more difference betwixt such and such a Man, than there is betwixt such a Man and such a Beast:

And that there are as many and innume­rable degrees of Wits, as there are Cubits betwixt this and Heaven. But as touch­ing the Estimate of Men, 'tis strange, that, [Page 504] our selves excepted, no other Creature is esteem'd beyond its proper Qualities, we commend a Horse for his Strength, and sureness of Foot,

and not for his Rich Caparisons; a Grey­hound for his share of Heels, not for his fine Collar; a Hawk for her Wing, not for her Gests and Bells. Why, in like man­ner, do we not value a Man for what is properly his own? He has a great Train, a beautiful Palace, so much Credit, so ma­ny Thousand Pounds a Year, and all these are about him, but not in him. You will not buy a Pig in a Poke: if you cheapen a Horse, you will see him stript of his Housing-cloaths, you will see him naked and open to your Eye; or if he be Cloath'd, as they anciently were wont to present them to Princes to Sell, 'tis only on the less important parts, that you may not so much [Page 505] consider the beaty of his Colour, or the breadth of his Crupper, as principally to examine his Limbs, Eyes and Feet, which are the Members of greatest use:

Why, in giving your Estimate of a Man, do you Prize him wrapt and muffled up in Cloaths? He then discovers nothing to you, but such parts as are not in the least his own; and conceals those, by which alone one may rightly judg of his Value. 'Tis the price of the Blade, that you en­quire into, and not of the Scabbard: You would not peradventure bid a Farthing for him, if you saw him stripp'd. You are to [Page 506] judg him by himself, and not by what he wears. And as one of the Ancients very pleasantly said, do you know why you re­pute him Tall? You reckon withal the heighth of his Chepines, whereas the Pe­destal is no part of the Statue. Measure him him without his Stilts, let him lay a­side his Revenues, and his Titles, let him present himself in his Shirt, then examine if his Body be sound and spritely, active and dispos'd to perform its Functions? What Soul has he? Is it Beautiful, capa­ble, and happily provided of all her Facul­ties? Is she Rich of what is her own, or of what she has Borrowed? Has Fortune no hand in the Affair? Can she, without winking, stand the lightning of Swords; is she indifferent, whether her Life expire by the Mouth, or through the Throat? Is she Settled, Even and Content? This is what is to be examin'd, and by that you are to judg of the vast differences betwixt Man, and Man. Is he

such a Man is rais'd Five Hundred Fa­thoms above Kingdoms and Dutchies, he is an Absolute Monarch in and to himself.

What remains for him to Covet, or Desire.

Compare with such a one the common Rabble of Mankind, stupid and mean Spi­rited, Servile, Instable, and continually floating with the Tempest of various Pas­sions, that tosses and tumbles them to and fro, and all depending upon others, and you will find a greater distance, than be­twixt Heaven and Earth; and yet the blindness of common usage is such, that we make little or no account of it. Whereas, if we consider a Peasant, and a King, a Noble-Man, and a Villain, a Ma­gistrate, and a private Man, a Rich Man, and a Poor, there appears a vast disparity, though they differ no more, (as a Man may say,) than in their Breeches. In Thrace, the King was distinguish'd from his People, after a very pleasant manner; He had a Religion by himself, a God of his own, and which his Subjects were not to presume to Adore, which was Mercury, whilst, on the other side, he disdain'd to have any thing to do with theirs, Mars, Bacchus and Diana. And yet they are no other than Pictures, that make no Essenti­al Dissimilitude; for as you see Actors in a Play, representing the person of a Duke, or an Emperour, upon the Stage, and im­mediately [Page 509] after, in the Tiring Room, re­turn to their true and original Condition; so the Emperour, whose Pomp and Lustre, does so dazle you in Publick,

do but peep behind the Curtain, and you'l see nothing more than an ordinary Man, and peradventure, more Contemptible than the meanest of his Subjects. Ille be­atus introrsum est, Senec. Ep. 115. istius bracteata felicitas est. True Happiness lies within, the other is but a counterfeit Felicity. Cowardize, Irresolution, Ambition, Spite and Envy, are as Predominant in him, as in ano­ther.

Nay, Solitude and Fear, attack him even in the Center of his Battalions.

Do Feavers, Gouts and Apoplexies, spare them any more, than one of us? When Old Age hangs heavy upon a Princes Shoulders, can the Yeomen of his Guard ease him of the Burthen? When he is A­stonish'd with the apprehension of Death, can the Gentlemen of his Bed-Chamber comfort and assure him? When Jealousie, or any other Caprichio swims in his Brain, [Page 511] can our Complements and Ceremonies restore him to his good Humour? The Canopy Embroider'd with Pearl and Gold, he lies under, has no Vertue against a vio­lent fit of the Stone or Cholick.

The Flatterers of Alexander the Great, possest him, that he was the Son of Jupi­ter: But being one Day Wounded, and observing the Blood stream from his Wound: What say you now, (my Ma­sters,) said he, is not this Blood of a Crimson Colour, and purely Humane? This is not of the Complexion with that which Homer makes to issue from the Wounded Gods. The Poet Hermedorus had Writ a Poem in Honour of Antigonus, wherein he call'd him the Son of the Sun: But who has the emptying of my Close­stool, (said Antigonus) will find to the contrary. He is but a Man at best, and if he be Deform'd, or ill Qualified from [Page 512] his Birth, the Empire of the Universe, can neither mend his Shape, nor his Nature;

what of all that, if he be a Fool and a Sot! even Pleasure and good Fortune, are not relish'd without Vigour and Under­standing.

Whatever the Benefits of Fortune are, they yet require a Pallat fit to relish and taste them: 'Tis Fruition, and not possession, that renders us Happy.

He is a Sot, his Taste is pall'd and flat; he no more enjoys what he has, than one that has a Cold, relishes the flavour of Ca­nary; or than a Horse is sensible of his Rich Caparison. Plato is in the right, when he tells us, that Health, Beauty, Vigour and Riches, and all the other things call'd Goods, are equally Evil to the Unjust, as Good to the Just, and the Evil on the con­trary the same. And therefore, where ei­ther the Body or the Mind, are in disor­der, to what use serve these external Con­veniences? Considering, that the least prick with a Pin, or the least Passion of the Soul, is sufficient to deprive us of the pleasure of being sole Monarch of the World. At the first twitch of the Gout, it signifies much to be call'd Sir, and your Majesty;

does he not forget his Palaces and Gran­deurs? If he be Angry, can his being a Prince, keep him from looking Red, and looking Pale, and grinding his Teeth, like a Mad-man? Now if he be a Man of parts, and well descended, Royalty adds very little to his Happiness:

He discerns, 'tis nothing but Counterfeit and Gullery. Nay perhaps, he would be of King Seleucus opinion, That who knew the weight of a Scepter, would not daign to stoop to take it up; which he said, in reference to the great and painful Duty in­cumbent upon a good King. Doubtless it can be no easie task to Rule others, when we find it so hard a matter to Govern our selves. And as to the thing Dominion, that seems so sweet and charming, the frailty of Humane Wisdom, and the diffi­culty [Page 515] of choice in things that are new and doubtful, to us consider'd, I am very much of opinion, that it is much more pleasant to follow, than to lead; and that it is a great settlement and satisfaction of Mind, to have only one Path to walk in, and to have none to answer for, but a Man's self;

To which we may add that saying of Cy­rus, That no Man was fit to Rule, but he who in his own Worth was of greater Va­lue, than all those he was to Govern: But King Hiero in Xenophon, says further, That in the Fruition even of Pleasure it self, they are in a worse condition, than private Men; forasmuch as the opportu­nities and facility they have of command­ing those things at Will, takes off from the Delight.

[Page 516] Can we think, that the Singing-Boys of the Quire, take any great delight in their own Musick? The Saciety does rather render it troublesome and tedious to them. Feasts, Balls, Masquerades and Tiltings, delight such as but rarely see, and desire to be at such Solemnities: But having been frequent at such Entertainments, the re­lish of them grows flat and insipid: Nay, Women (the greatest Temptation) do not so much delight those who make a common practice of the sport. He who will not give himself leisure to be Thirsty, can never find the true pleasure of Drink­ing. Farces and Tumbling Tricks, are pleasant to the Spectators, but a pain to those by whom they are perform'd. And that this is effectually so, we see that Prin­ces divert themselves sometimes in disgui­sing their Quality, a while to depose them­selves, and to stoop to the poor and ordi­nary way of Living of the meanest of their People.

Nothing is so distastful and disappointing, as Abundance. What Appetite would not be baffled, to see Three Hundred Women at his Mercy, as the Grand Seigneor has in his Seraglio? And What Fruition of Plea­sure, or Taste of Recreation, did he of his Ancestors reserve to himself, who never went a Hawking without Seven Thousand Falconers? And besides all this, I Fancy that this Lustre of Grandeur brings with it no little disturbance and uneasiness up­on the Enjoyment of the most tempting pleasures, they are too conspicuous, and lie too open to every ones view. Neither do I know to what end a man should any more require them to conceal their Errors, since what is only reputed indiscretion in us, they know very well the people in them brand with the names of Tyranny, and contempt of the Laws; and besides their proclivity to Vice, are apt to censure, that it is a heightning to pleasure to them, to Insult over the Laws, and to trample upon Publick Ordinances. Plato indeed, in his Gorgeas defines, a Tyrant to be one, who in a City has Licence to do [Page 516] [...] [Page 517] [...] [Page 518] whatever his own Will leads him to. And by reason of this Impunity, the Overt­acting and Publication of their Vices, does oft-times more Mischief, than the Vice it self. Every one fears to be pry'd into, and discover'd in their Evil Courses; but Prin­ces are, even to their very Gestures, Looks and Thoughts, the People conceiving they have right and title to Censure, and be Judges of them: Besides, that the Ble­mishes of the Great, naturally appear greater, by reason of the Eminency and Lustre of the place where they are seated; and that a Mole or a Wart appears greater in them, than the greatest Deformity in others. And this is the reason why the Poets feign the Amours of Jupiter to be perform'd in the disguises of so many bor­rowed shapes, that amongst the many A­morous Practices they lay to his charge, there is only one, as I remember, where he appears in his own Majesty and Gran­deur. But let us return to Hiero, who complains of the Inconveniences he found in his Royalty, in that he could not look abroad, and Travel the World at liberty, being as it were a Prisoner to the Bounds and Limits of his own Dominion: And that in all his Actions, he was evermore surrounded with an importunate Crowd. And in truth, to see our Kings set all alone at Table, environed with so many People [Page 519] prating about them, and so many stran­gers staring upon them, as they always are, I have often been mov'd, rather to pity, than to envy, their condition. King Alphonsus was wont to say, that in this, Asses were in a better condition than Kings, their Masters permitting them to feed at their own ease and pleasure; a fa­vour that Kings cannot obtain of their Servants. And it would never sink into my fancy, that it could be of any great benefit to the Life of a Man of Sense, to have Twenty People prating about him, when he is at Stool; or that the Services of a Man of Ten Thousand Livers a Year, or that has taken Casal, or defended Sie­na, should be either more commodious, or more acceptable to him, than those of a good Groom of the Chamber, that under­stands his place. The Advantages of So­veraignty, are but Imaginary upon the matter: Every degree of Fortune has in it some Image of Principality. Caesar calls all the Lords of France, having Free-Fran­chise within their own Demeans, Roylets; and in truth, the Name of Sire excepted, they go pretty far towards Kingship; for do but look into the Provinces remote from Court, as Brittany for example, take notice of the Attendance, the Vassals, the Officers, the Employments, Service, Ce­remony and State, of a Lord that Lives [Page 520] retir'd from Court, is constant to his own House, and that has been bred up amongst his own Tenants and Servants; and ob­serve withal, the flight of his Imagination, there is nothing more Royal: He hears talk of his Master once a Year, as of a King of Persia, or Peru, without taking any further notice of him, than some re­mote Kindred, his Secretary keeps in some Musty Record. And, to speak the truth, our Laws are easie enough, so easie, that a Gentleman of France scarce feels the weight of Soveraignty pinch his Shoulders above Twice in his Life. Real and effectual Sub­jection, only concerns such amongst us, as voluntarily thrust their Necks under the Yoke, and who design to get Wealth and Honours by such Services: For a Man that loves his own Fire-side, and can Go­vern his House, without falling by the Ears with his Neighbours, or engaging in Suits of Law, is as free, as a Duke of Ve­nice. Paucos servitus, plures servitutem te­nent. Servitude seizes of few, but many seize of her. But that which Hiero is most concern'd at, is, that he finds himself stripp'd of all Friendship, and depriv'd of all Natural Society, wherein the true and most perfect Fruition of Humane Life does consist. For what Testimony of affection and good will, can I extract from him, that owes me, whether he will or no, all [Page 521] that he is able to do? Can I form any as­surance of his real Respect to me, from his humble way of speaking, and submissive Behaviour, when they are Ceremonies, it is not in his Choice to deny? The Ho­nour we receive from those that Fear us, is not Honour, those Respects are paid to my Royalty, and not to me.

Do I not see, that the Wicked, and the good King, he that is hated, and he that is belov'd, has the one as much Reverence paid him, as the other? My Predecessor was, and my Successor shall be, serv'd with the same Ceremony and State. If my Subjects do me no harm, 'tis no Evidence of any good Affection; why should I look upon it as such, seeing it is not in their Power if they would? No one fol­lows me, or Obeys my Commands, up­on the account of any Friendship betwixt him and me; there can be no contract­ing of Friendship, where there is so little [Page 522] relation and correspondence: My own Height has put me out of the Familiarity of, and Intelligence with men: There is too great disparity and disproportion be­twixt us; they follow me either upon the account of decency, and custome; or ra­ther my fortune, than me, to encrease their own: All they say to me, or do for me, is forc'd and dissembled, their liberty being on all parts restrain'd by the great power and authority I have over them. I see nothing about me but what is dis­sembled, and disguis'd. The Emperour Julian being one day applauded for his exact Justice: I should be proud of these praises, said he, did they come from per­sons that durst condemn, or disapprove the contrary, in case I should do it. All the real advantages of Princes are common to them with Men of meaner condition: 'Tis for the Gods to Mount winged Horses, and feed upon Ambrosia: Earthly Kings have no other Sleep, nor other Appetite, than we; the Steel they Arm themselves withal, is of no better temper, than that we also use; their Crowns do neither de­fend them from the Rain, nor Sun. Dio­clesian who wore a Crown so Fortunate and Rever'd, resign'd it, to retire himself to the Felicity of a private Life: And some time after the necessity of Publick Affairs, requiring, that he should reassume [Page 523] his Charge, he made Answer to those who came to Court him to it, You would not offer, (said he) to per­swade me to this, had you seen the fine Order of Trees I have Planted in my Or­chard, and the fair Melows I have Sow'd in my Garden. In Anacharsis his Opinion, the happiest Estate of Government would be, where all other things being equal, Precedency should be measur'd out by the Vertues, and Repulses by the Vices of Men. When King Pyrrhus prepar'd for his Expedition into Italy, his Wise Counseller Cyneas, to make him sensible of the Vani­ty of his Ambition; Well Sir, (said he,) to what End do you make all this Mighty Preparation? To make my self Master of Italy, (reply'd the King). And what af­ter that is done, (said Cyneas?) I will pass over into Gaule and Spain, said the o­ther. And what then? I will then go to Subdue Africk; and lastly, when I have brought the whole World to my Subjecti­on, I will sit down and rest Content at my own Ease. For God sake, Sir, (re­ply'd Cyneas,) tell me what hinders, that you may not, if you please, be now in the condition you speak of? Why do you not now at this instant, settle your self in the State you seem to aim at, and spare the Labour and Hazard you interpose?

CHAP. XLIII. Of Sumptuary Laws.

THE way by which our Laws at­tempt to regulate idle and vain ex­pences in Meat and Clothes, seems to be quite contrary to the end design'd. The true way would be to beget in men a con­tempt of Silks and Gold, as vain, frivo­lous, and useless; whereas we augment to them the Honours, and enhance the value of such things, which sure is a very im­proper [Page 525] way to create a disgust. For to enact, that none but Princes shall eat Tur­bet, shall wear Velvet, or Gold-Lace, and interdict these things to the people, what is it but to bring them into a greater esteem, and to set every one more a gog to eat, and wear them? Let Kings (a Gods name) leave off these Ensigns of Grandeur, they have others enough be­sides; those excesses are more excusable in any other, than a Prince. We may learn by the Example of several Nations, better ways of exteriour distinction of quality (which truly I conceive to be very requi­site in a State) enow, without fostering up this corruption, and manifest incon­venience to this effect. 'Tis strange how suddenly, and with how much ease custom in these indifferent things establishes it self, and becomes authority. We had scarce worn Cloath a year (in compliance with the Court) for the Mourning of Henry the Second, but that Silks were already grown into such contempt with every one, that a man so clad, was pre­sently Concluded a Citizen. The Silks were divided betwixt the Physicians, and Chirurgeons, and though all other people almost went in the same habit, there was notwithstanding in one thing or other, sufficient distinction of the calling, and conditions of men. How suddenly do [Page 526] greasy Chamois Doublets become the fashion in our Armies, whilst all neatness and riches of habit fall into contempt? Let Kings but lead the dance, and begin to leave off this expence, and in a Month the business will be done throughout the Kingdome, with­out an Edict; we shall all follow. It should be rather proclaim'd on the contrary, that no one should wear Scarlet, or Gold-smiths work, but Whores and Tumblers. Zeleu­cus with the like invention reclaim'd the corrupted manners of the Locrians. Whose Lawes were, that no free woman should be allow'd any more than one Maid to follow her unless she was drunk: nor was to stir out of the City by night, wear Jewels of Gold about her, or go in an Embroidred Robe, unless she was a profest and publick Whore: The Bravo's, and Ruffians except­ed, no man was to wear a Gold Ring, nor be seen in one of those effeminate Vests wo­ven in the City of Miletum. By which in­famous exceptions, he discreetly diverted his Citizens, from Superfluities, and per­nicious pleasures, and it was a project of grean Utility to attract men by honour, and Ambition to their Duty and Obedience. Our Kings may do what they please in such external Reformations, their own inclina­tions stands in this case for a Law, Quic­quid Principes faciunt, Quinct. De­cla. 4. precipere videnter. What Princes themselves do, they seem to [Page 527] enjoin others. Whatever is done at Court passes for a rule through the rest of France. Let the Courtiers but fall out with these abominable Breeches, that discover so much of those parts should be concealed: These great Bellied Doublets, that make us look like I know not what; and are so unfit to admit of Arms; these long effeminate Locks of Hair: This foolish Custom of Kissing, what we present to our equals and our Hands in saluting them; a ceremony in former times only due to Princes: And that a Gentleman shall appear in place of respect without his Sword, unbuttoned and untrust, as though he came from the House of Office; and that contrary to the custom of our Fore-fathers, and the parti­cular priviledge of the Nobless of this Kingdom, we shall stand a long time bare to them in what place soever, and the same to a hundred others, so many Tierces and Quarts of Kings we have got now a days, and also other the like innovations, and degenerate customs; they will see them all presently Vanisht and Cry'd down. These are, 'tis true, but superficial Errours; but however of ill consequence, and 'tis enough to inform us that the whole Fabrick is Cra­zy and Tottering, when we see the rough­cast of our Walls to cleave and split. Plato in his Laws, esteems nothing of more pe­stiferous consequence to his City, than to [Page 528] give Young-Men the liberty of introducing any change in their Habits, Gestures, Dances, Songs, and Exercises, from one form to another; shifting from this to that, Hunting after Novelties, and applauding the Inventors; by which means Manners are corrupted, and the old institutions come to be nauseated and despised. In all things saving only in those that are evil a change is to be fear'd; even the change of Seasons, Winds, Viands, and Humours. And no Laws are in their true credit, but such to which God has given so long a con­tinuance, that no one knows their begin­ning, or that there ever was any other.

CHAP. XLIV. Of Sleep.

REason directs, that we should always go the same way; but not always the same pace. And consequently though a Wise Man ought not so much to give the Reins to humane Passions, as to let them deviate him from the right Path; he may notwithstanding without prejudice to his Duty, leave it to them to hasten, or to slack his speed, and not fix himself like a motionless, and insensible Coloss. Could [Page 529] Vertue it self put on Flesh and Blood, I be­lieve the Pulse would Beat faster going on to an Assault, than in going to Dinner: That is to say, there is a necessity she should Heat, and be mov'd upon this ac­count. I have taken notice, as of an ex­traordinary thing of some great Men, who in the highest Enterprizes, and great­est Dangers, have detain'd themselves in so settled and serene a Calm, as not at all to hinder their usual Gayety, or break their Sleep. Alexander the Great, on the Day assigned for that furious Battel be­twixt him and Darius, slept so profound­edly, and so long in the Morning, that Parmenio was forc't to enter his Chamber, and coming to his Bedside to call him seve­ral times by his Name, the time to go to Fight compelling him so to do. The Em­perour Otho, having put on a resolution to Kill himself the same night, after having settled his Domestick affairs, divided his Money amongst his Servants, and set a good edge upon a Sword he had made choice of for the purpose, and now staying only to be satisfied whether all his friends were retir'd in safety, he fell into so sound a sleep, that the Gentlemen of his Chamber heard him Snore. The death of this Em­perour has in it circumstances parallelling that of the great Cato, and particularly this before related: For Cato being ready [Page 530] to dispatch himself, whilst he only staid his hand in expectation of the return of a messenger he had sent, to bring him news whether the Senators he had sent away, were put out from the Port of Vtica, he fell into so sound a sleep, that they had him into the next Room; and he whom he had sent to the Port, having awak'd him to let him know, that the Tempe­stuous Weather had hindred the Senators from putting to Sea; he dispatcht away a­nother messenger, and composing himself again in the Bed, settled again to sleep, and did so, till by the return of the last messenger, he had certain intelligence they were gone. We may here further compare him with Alexander too, in that great and dangerous Storm that threatned him by the Sedition of the Tribune Me­tellus, who attempting to publish a Decree for the calling in of Pompey with his Army into the City, at the time of Catilines Con­spiracy, was only, and that stoutly oppos'd by Cato, so that very sharp language and bitter menaces past betwixt them in the Senate about that affair; but it was the next day in the Fore-Nune, that the con­troversie was to be decided; where Me­tellus, besides the favour of the people, and of Caesar, (at that time of Pompeys Faction) was to appear accompanied with a Rabble of Slaves and Fencers; and Cato [Page 531] only fortified with his own Courage and Constancy; so that his Relations, Dome­sticks, and several vertuous people of his Friends were in great apprehensions for him. And to that Degree, that some there were who past over the whole Night without Sleep, Eating, or Drinking, for the mani­fest danger they saw him running into; of which his Wife and Sisters did nothing but Weep, and torment themselves in his House; whereas he, on the contrary, Comforted every one, and after having Supp'd after his usual manner, went to Bed, and slept profoundly till Morning, that one of his fellow Tribunes rouz'd him to go to the encounter. The knowledge we have of the greatness of this Mans Courage by the rest of his Life, may war­rant us securerly to judge, that his indiffe­rence proceeded from a soul so much eleva­ted above such accidents, that he disdain'd to let it take any more hold of his Fancy, than any other ordinary adventure. In the Naval Engagement, that Augustus won of Sextus Pompeius in Sicily, just as they were to begin the Fight he was so fast a­sleep, that his Friends were compell'd to wake him to give the Signal of Battel: And this was it that gave Mark Anthony af­terwards occasion to reproach him, that he had not the Courage so much as with open Eyes, to behold the order of his own [Page 532] Squadrons, and not to have dar'd to pre­sent himself before the Souldiers, till first Agrippa had brought him news of the Victory obtain'd. But as to the business of young Marius, who did much worse (for the day of the last Battel against Sylla, after he had order'd his Army, given the word and Signal of Battel, he laid him down un­der the Shade of a Tree to repose himself, and fell so fast asleep, that the Rout, and Fight of his Men could hardly wake him, having seen nothing of the Fight) he is said to have been at that time so extreamly spent, and worn out with Labour and want of Sleep, that Nature could hold out no longer. Now upon what has been said, the Physicians may determine, whether sleep be so necessary that our lives depend upon it: for we read that King Perseus of Mace­don being Prisoner at Rome, was wak'd to Death; but Pliny instances such as have lived long without sleep. Herodotus speaks of Nations, where the Men sleep and wake by half years: And they who write the Life of the Wise Epimenides, affirm that he slept seven and fifty years together.

CHAP. XLV. Of the Battel of Dreux.

OUr Battel of Dreux, is remarkable for several extraordinary accidents: But such as have no great kindness for the Duke of Guise, nor do much favour his re­putation, are willing to have him thought too blame, and that his making a Halt and delaying time with this Forces he Com­manded, whilst the Constable who was General of the Army was Rackt through and through with the Enemies Artillery, his Battalion Routed, and himself taken Prisoner; is not to be excus'd: And that he had much better have ran the hazard of charging the Enemy in the Flank, than staying for the advantage of falling in up­on the Rear, to suffer so great and so im­portant a loss. But, besides what the e­vent demonstrated, who will consider it without passion or prejudice, will easily be induced to confess, that the aim and design not of a Captain only, but of every Pri­vate Souldier ought to look at the Victory in general; and that no particular occur­rences, how nearly soever they may con­cern [Page 534] his own interest, should divert him from that pursuit. Philopemen in an en­counter with Machanidas, having sent be­fore a good strong party of his Archers, to begin the Skirmish, which were by the E­nemy Routed, and pursu'd; who pursuing them, and pushing on the Fortune of their Arms in the heat of Victory; and in that pursuit passing by the Battalion where Phi­lopemen was, though his Souldiers were impatient to fall on, yet he was better temper'd, and did not think fit to stir from his post, nor to present himself to the Ene­my to relieve his Men, but having suffer'd them to be chaste about the Field, and Cut in pieces before his Face, then charged in upon their Battalion of Foot, when he saw them left Naked by their Horse; and not­withstanding that they were Lacedemonians, yet taking them in the nick, when think­ing themselves secure of the Victory, they began to disorder their Ranks, he did his business with great facility, and then put himself in pursuit of Machanidas. Which case is very like that of Monsieur de Guise: In that Bloody Battel betwixt Agesilaus, and the Baeotians, which Zenophon, who was present at it, reports to be the rudest and most Bloody that he had ever seen: Agesilaus wav'd the advantage that Fortune presented him, to let the Baeotians Battali­on pass by, and then to charge them in [Page 535] the Rear, how certain soever he made him­self of the Victory: Judging it would ra­ther be an effect of Conduct than Valour, to proceed that way: And therefore, to shew his prowess, rather chose with a wonderful ardour of Courage, to charge them in the Front; but he was well beat­en, and wounded for his pains, and con­strain'd at last to disengage himself, and to take the course he had at first neglected; opening his Battalion to give way to this torrent of the Baeotians fury and being past by, taking notice that they march'd in disorder, like men that thought them­selves out of danger, he then pursu'd, and charg'd them in their Flanks and Rear; yet could not so prevail as to bring it to so general a Rout, but that they leisurely re­treated, still Facing about upon him, till they were retired into safety.

CHAP. XLVI. Of Names.

WHat variety of Herbs soever are shuffled together in the Dish, yet the whole Mass is swallow'd up in one name of a Sallet. In line manner, under [Page 536] the consideration of Names, I will make a hodg-podg of differing Articles. Every Nation has certain Names, that, I know not why, are taken in no good sense, as with us, John, William, and Benoist. In the Genealogy of Princes, also there seems to be certain Names fatally affected, as the Ptolomies of Egypt, the Henry's of England, the Charles's of France, the Bald­wins of Flanders, and the Williams of our Ancient Aquitaine, from whence, 'tis said, the Name of Guyenne has its derivation; which would seem far fetch'd, were there not as rude derivations in Plato himself. 'Tis a very frivolous thing in it self, but nevertheless worthy to be Recorded for the strangeness of it, which is writ by an Eye­witness; that Henry Duke of Normandy, Son of Henry the Second, King of Eng­land, making a great Feast in France, the concourse of Nobility and Gentry was so great, that being, for Sports sake, divided into Troops, according to their Names, in the first Troop, which consisted of Wil­liams, there were found an Hundred and Ten Knights sitting at the Table of that Name, without reckoning the ordinary Gentlemen, and their Servants. It is as pleasant to distinguish the Tables by the Names of the Guests, as it was in the Em­perour Geta, to distinguish the several Courses of his Meat, by the first Letters [Page 537] of the Meats themselves, where those that began with B, were serv'd up together, as Brawn, Beef, Breame, Bustards and Bec­ca-ficos, and so of others. Now there is a saying, that it is a good thing to have a good Name, that is to say, Credit, and a good Repute: But besides this, it is really convenient, to have such a Name as is ea­sie of pronunciation, and easie to be re­membred; by reason, that Kings, and other great Persons, do by that means the more easily know, and the more hardly forget us; and indeed, of our own Ser­vants, we more frequently call and em­ploy those, whose Names are most ready upon the Tongue. I my self have seen Henry the Second, when he could not for his heart hit of a Gentlemans Name of our Country of Gascony; and moreover, was fain to call one of the Queen's Maids of Honour, by the general Name of her Family, her own being so difficult to pro­nounce or remember. And Socrates thinks it worthy a Fathers Care, to give fine Names to his Children. 'Tis said, that the Foundation of Nostre Dame la Grande, at Poitiers, took its Original from hence, that a Debauch'd Young Fellow formerly Living in that place, having got to him a Whore, and at her first coming in, asking her Name, and being answer'd, that it was Mary, he felt himself so suddenly darted [Page 538] through with the Awe of Religion, and the Reverence to that Sacred Name of the Blessed Virgin, that he not only imedi­ately put his Lewd Mistress away from him, but became a reformed Man, and so continued the remainder of his Life: And that in consideration of this Miracle, there was Erected upon the place, where this Young Mans House stood, first a Chappel Dedicated to our Lady, and afterwards the Church that we now see standing there. This Auricular Reproof wrought upon the Conscience, and that right into the Soul: This that follows, insinuated it self meerly be the sense. Pythagoras being in company with some wild Young Fel­lows, and perceiving that, heated with the Feast, they complotted to go Violate an Honest House, commanded the Sing­ing Wench to alter her Wanton Airs; and by a Solemn, Grave and Spondaick Mu­sick, gently enchanted and laid asleep their Ardour. Will not Posterity say, that our Modern Reformation has been won­derfully exact, in having not only scuffled with, and overcome Errours and Vices, and fill'd the World with Devotion, Hu­mility, Obedience, Peace, and all sorts of Vertue; but to have proceeded so far, as to quarrel with the Ancient Baptismal Names of Charles, Lewis, and Francis, to fill the World with Methusalems, Ezekiels, [Page 539] and Malachies, of a more Scriptural sound? A Gentleman, a Neighbour of mine, a great Admirer of Antiquity, and who was always preferring the Excellency of pre­ceding Times, in comparison with this pre­sent Age of ours, did not (amongst the rest) forget to Magnifie the Lofty and Magnificent sound of the Gentlemen's Names of those Days, Don Grumedan, Qua­dregan, Angesilan, &c. which but to hear Nam'd, he perceiv'd to be other kind of Men, than Pierre, Guillot and Michel. I am mightily pleas'd with Jaques Amiot, for leaving throughout a whole French Orati­on, the Latine Names entire, without va­rying and dissecting them, to give them a French termination. It seem'd a little harsh and rough at first: But already Custom, by the Authority of Plutarch, (whom he took for his Example) has overcome that Novelty. I have often wish'd, that such as write Chronical Histo­ries in Latine, would leave our Names as they find them, and as they are, and ought to be, for in making Vaudemont, Val­lemontances, and Metamorphosing Names, to make them suit better with the Greek or Latine, we know not where we are, and with the persons of the Men, lose the benefit of the Story. To conclude, 'tis a scurvy Custom, and of very ill conse­quence, that we have in our Kingdom of [Page 540] France, to call every one by the Name of his Mannor, or Seigneury, and the thing in the World that does the most prejudice, and confound Families and Descents. A Younger Brother of a good Family, ha­ving a Mannor left him by his Father, by the Name of which he has been known and Honour'd, cannot handsomely leave it; Ten Years after his Decease, it falls into the hand of a stranger, who does the same: Do but judg whereabouts we shall be, concerning the knowledg of these Men. We need look no further for Examples, than our own Royal Family, where every Partage creates a new Sir-name, whilst in the mean time the Original of the Family is totally lost. There is so great liberty taken in these Mutations, that I have not in my time seen any one advanc'd by For­tune to any extraordinary condition, who has not presently had Genealogick Titles added to him, new, and unknown to his Father, and who has not been innoculated into some illustrious Stem; and by good Luck, the obscurest Families, are the most proper for Falsification. How many Gentlemen have we in France, who, by their own talk, are of Royal Extraction? More I think, than who will confess they are not. Was it not a pleasant passage of a Friend of mine? There were a great many Gentlemen assembled together, about [Page 541] the dispute of one Lord of a Mannor, with another; which other had in truth, some preheminence of Titles and Allian­ces, above the ordinary Scheme of Gen­try. Upon the Debate of this Priority of Place, every one standing up for himself, to make himself equal to him, alledging one one Extraction, another another, one the near resemblance of Name, another of Arms, another an old worm-eaten Patent, and the least of them, Great-Granchild to some Foreign King. When they came to sit down to Dinner, my Friend, instead of taking his place amongst them, retiring with most profound Congees, entreated the Company to excuse him, for having hitherto Liv'd with them at the sawcy rate of a Companion; but being now better inform'd of their Quality, he would begin to pay them the Respect due to their Birth and and Grandeur, and that it would ill be­come him to sit down among so many Princes; and ended the Farce with a Thousand Reproaches. Let us in Gods Name satisfie our selves with what our Fa­thers were contented, and with what we are: We are great enough, if we rightly understand how to maintain it: Let us not disown the Fortune and Condition of our Ancestors, and lay aside these Ridicu­lous pretences; that can never be wanting to any one that has the Impudence to al­ledg [Page 542] them. Arms have no more Security, than Sir-names. I bear Azure powdered with Trefoiles, Or, with a Lyons Paw of the same armed gules in Fesse. What privi­ledge to continue particularly in my House and Name? A Son-in-Law will transport it into another Family; or some paltry Purchaser will make them his first Arms; there is nothing wherein there is more change, and confusion. But this consideration leads me perforce into ano­ther subject. Let us pry a little narrowly into, and in Gods name examine upon what foundation we erect this Glory and Reputation, for which the World is turn'd topsy turvy: Wherein do we place this Renown, that we hunt after with so great flagrancry, and through so many impe­diments, and so much trouble? It is in conclusion, Peter or William that carries it, takes it into his possession, and whom it only concerns. O what a valiant fa­culty is hope, that in a mortal subject, and in a moment makes nothing of usurp­ing infinity and immensity, and of sup­plying her Masters indigence at her plea­sure with all things he can imagine, or de­sire! Nature has given us this passion for a pretty toy to play withal. And this Peter or William, what is it but a sound when all is done? or three or four dashes with a Pen, so easie to be varied, that I would [Page 543] fain know to whom is to be attributed the glory of so many Victories, to Guesquin, to Glesquin, or to Gueaquin? and yet there would be something of greater moment in the case, than in Lucian, that Sigma should serve Tau with a process for,

The chace is there in very good earnest: The question is, which of these Letters is to be rewarded for so many Sieges, Bat­tels, Wounds, Imprisonments, and Ser­vices done to the Crown of France, by this famous Constable. Nicholas Denisot never concern'd himself further than the Letters of his name, of which he has altered the whole Contexture to build up by Anagram the Count of Alsinois, whom he has cele­brated with the utmost force, and glory of his Poetry, and Painting. And the Hi­storian Suetonius could be satisfied with no­thing he Writ, unless it might redound to his own particular honour, which made him casheer his fathers Sirname Leuis, to leave Tranquillus Successor to the reputati­on of his writings. Who would believe that Captain Bayard should have no ho­nour, [Page 544] but what he derives from Peter Ter­rail; and that Antonio Escalin should suffer himself to his face, to be Rob'd of the hon­our of so many Navigations and Com­mands at Sea and Land by Captain Paulin, and the Baron de la Garde; These are inju­ries of the Pen, common to a thousand people. How many are there in every Family of the same Name and Sirname? and how many more in several Families, Ages, and Countries? History tells us of three of the name of Socrates, of five Plato's, of eight Aristotles, of seven Xeno­phons, of twenty Demetris, and of twenty Theodores; and how many more she was not acquainted with we may imagine. Who hinders my Groom from calling himself Pompey the Great? But after all, by what Vertue, what Authority, or what secret conveyances are there, that fix upon my deceased Groom, or the other Pompey, who had his Head cut off in Egypt, this glorious Renown, and these so much honoured flourishes of the Pen, so as to be of any advantage to them?

What sense have the two Colleagues of the greatest esteem amongst men? Epa­minondas [Page 545] of this glorious Verse, that has been so many Ages curren [...] in his praise;

or Affricanus of this other?

Survivers indeed tickle themselves with these praises, and by them incited to jea­lousy or desire, inconsiderately, and accord­ing their own fancy, attribute to the dead those Vertues themselves pretend to most: God knows how vainly flattering them­selves, that they shall one day in turn be capable of the same Characters: however

CHAP. XLVII. Of the Incertainty of our Judg­ment.

IT was well said of the Poet, ‘ [...].Homer Ili­ads 20.’ There is every where liberty of Arguing e­nough, and enough to be said on both sides: For Example,

Such as would improve this Argument, and condemn the oversight of our Lea­ders in not pushing home the victory at Moncontour; or accuse the King of Spain of not knowing how to make his best use of [Page 547] the advantage he had against us at St. Quintin, may conclude these oversights to proceed from a Soul already drunk with success, or from a Courage, which being full, and overgorg'd with this beginning of good fortune, had lost the appetite of adding to it, already having enough to do to digest what it had taken in: He has his Arms full, and can embrace no more: unworthy of the benefit conferr'd upon him, and the advantage she had put into his hands: for what utility does he reap from it, if notwithstanding he give his Enemy respite to rally to recover his asto­nishment, and to make head against him? What hope is there that he will dare at another time to attaque an Enemy reuni­ted, and recompos'd, and arm'd anew with Spite and Revenge, who did not dare to pursue him when routed, and unmann'd by fear?

But withal, what better opportunity can he expect, than that he has lost? 'Tis not here, as in Fencing, where the most hits gain the Prize: For so long as the Enemy is on foot, the Game is new to begin, and [Page 548] that is not to be call'd a Victory, that puts not an end to the War. In the en­counter where Caesar had the worse, near to the City of Oricum, he reproach'd Pom­pey's Souldiers, that he had been lost, had their General known how to overcome; and afterwards claw'd him away in turn. But why may not a man also argue on the contrary, that it is the effect of a preci­pitous, and insatiate Spirit, not to know how to bound, and restrain its ardour: that it is to abuse the favours of God to exceed the measure he has prescrib'd them: and that again to throw a mans self into danger, after a Victory obtain'd, is again to expose himself to the mercy of For­tune: and that it is one of the greatest discretions in the Rule of War, not to drive an Enemy to despair. Sylla and Marius in the Associate War having defeated the Marsians; seeing yet a Body of Reserve, that prompted by Despair, was coming on like enraged Brutes to charge in upon them, thought it not convenient to stand their charge. Had not Monsieur de Foix his ardour transported him so precipi­tously to pursue the remains of the Victo­ry of Ravenna, he had not obscur'd it by his own death. And yet the recent me­mory of his Example serv'd to pre­serve Monsieur d' Anguien from the same misfortune at the Battel of Serisoles. 'Tis [Page 549] dangerous to attaque a man you have de­priv'd of all means to escape, but by his Arms: for necessity teaches violent reso­lutions:Porti. Lat. in Decla. Gravissimi sunt morsus irritatae ne­cessitatis, enrag'd necessity bites deep.

This was it that made Pharax withhold the King of Lacedemon, who had won a Battel of the Mantineans, from going to charge a thousand Argians, who were es­cap'd in an entire Body from the defeat; but rather let them steal off at liberty, that he might not encounter Valour whet­ted and enrag'd by mischance. Clodo­mire, King of Aquitaine, after his Victory pursuing Gondemar, King of Burgundy, beaten, and making off as fast as he could for safety, compell'd him to face about, and make head, wherein his obstinacy de­priv'd him of the fruit of his Conquest, for he there lost his life.

In like manner, if a Man were to choose, whether he would have his Souldiers Ain­quant, and richly accoutred with Damaskt Arms, or arm'd only for necessary defence; this argument would step in, in favour of the first (of which opinion was Sertorius, Philopemen, Brutus, Caesar, and others) [Page 550] that it is to a Souldier an enflaming of cou­rage, and a spur to Glory, to see himself brave; and withal an imitation to be more obstinate in Fight, having his Arms, which are in a manner his Estate, and whole inhe­ritance to defend, which is the reason (says Xenophon) why those of Asia, carried their Wives, Concubines, with their choicest Jewels, and greatest Wealth along with them to the Wars. But then these argu­ments would be as ready to stand up for the other side, that a General ought rather to render his Men careless and desperate, than to encrease their solicitude of preser­ving themselves: That by this means they will be in a double fear of hazarding their persons; as it will be a double temptation to the Enemy, to fight with greater reso­lution, where so great booty and so rich spoils are to be obtain'd: And this very thing has been observ'd in former times, notably to encourage the Romans against the Samaites. Antiochus shewing Hannibal the Army he had raised wonderfully splendid, and Rich in all sorts of Equipage; askt him, if the Romans would be satisfied with that Army? Satisfied? replied the other, yes doubtless were their avarice ne­ver so great. Licurgus not only forbad his Souldiers all manner of bravery in their E­quipage, but moreover to strip their con­quer'd Enemies, because he would (as he [Page 551] said) that poverty, and frugality should shine with the rest of the Battel.

At Seiges, and elsewhere, where occa­sion draws us near to the Enemy, we wil­lingly suffer our Men to Brave, Rate, and affront the Enemy with all sorts of injurious Language; and not without some colour of reason: For it is of no little consequence, to take from them all hopes of Mercy, and Composition, in representing to them, that there is no fair Quarter to be expected from an Enemy, they have incenc'd to that degree, nor other Remedy remaining, but in the Victory. And yet Vitellius found himself deceiv'd in this way of proceeding; for having to do with Otho, weaker in the valour of his Souldiers, of long unaccusto­med to War, and effeminated with the de­lights of the City; he so nettled them at last with injurious Language, reproaching them with cowardize, and the regret of the Mistresses, and entertainments they had left behind at Rome; that by this means he inspir'd them with such resoluti­on, as no exhortation had had the power to have done; and himself made them fall upon him, with whom their own Captains before could by no means prevail. And indeed when they are injuries that touch to the quick, it may very well fall out, that he who went but ill-favour'dly to work in the behalf of his Prince, will fall to't with [Page 552] another sort of Mettle, when the quarrel is his own.

To consider of how great importance is the preservation of the General of an Army, and that the Universal aim of an Enemy is levell'd directly at the head, upon which all the others depend; the advice seems to admit of no dispute, which we know has been taken by so many great Captains of changing their habit, and disguising their persons upon the point of going to engage. Nevertheless the inconvenience a Man by so doing runs into, is not less than that he thinks to avoid: For the Captain by this means being conceal'd from the knowledge of his own Men, the courage they should derive from his Presence and Example, hap­pens by degrees to cool and to decay; and not seeing the wonted As at the Battel of Ivry, in the person of Henry the Great. Marks, and Ensigns of their Leader, they presently con­clude him either dead, or that, despairing of the business, he is gone to shift for him­self; and experience shews us that both these ways have been both successful, and otherwise. What befel Pyrrhus in the Bat­tel he fought against the Consul Levinus in Italy, will serve us to both purposes: For though by shrouding his person under the Arms of Demogacles, and making him wear his own, he undoubtedly preserved his own Life, yet by that very means he was with­al very near running into the other mischief [Page 553] of losing the Battel. Alexander, Caesar, and Lucullus lov'd to make themselves known in a Battel, by rich Furnitures, and Arms of a particular lustre and colour: Agis, Agesilaus, and that great Gilippus on the contrary us'd to Fight obscurely Armed, and without any imperial attendance, or distinction.

Amongst other oversights Pompey is charg'd withal, at the Battel of Pharsalia, he is condemned for making his Army stand still to receive the Enemies charge; by reason that (I shall hear steal Plutarchs own words, that are better than mine) he by so doing, depriv'd himself of the violent impression, the motion of running adds to the first shock of Arms, and hindred the ju­stle of the Combatants (who were wont to give great impetuosity, and fury to the first Encounter; especially when this came to rush in with their utmost vigour, their courages increasing by the Shouts and the Carreer) rendering the Souldiers animosi­ty, and ardour, as a man may say, more reserv'd and cold. This is what he says: But if Caesar had come by the worse, why might it not as well have been urg'd by a­nother, that, on the contrary the strongest, and most steady posture of Fighting, is that wherein a man stands planted firm with­out motion; and that who makes a halt up­on their march, closing up, and reserving [Page 554] their force within themselves for the push of the business, have a great advantage a­gainst those who are disordred, and who have already spent half their breath in run­ning on precipitously to the charge? Be­sides, that an Army being a Body made up of so many individual members, it is im­possible for it to move in this fury with so exact a motion, as not to break the or­der of Battel, and that the best of Foot are not engag'd, before their fellows can come in to relieve them. In that unnatural Battel betwixt the two Persian Brothers, the Lacedemonian Clearchus, who com­manded the Greeks of Cyrus party, led them on softly, and without precipitation to the Charge; but coming within fifty paces hurried them on full speed, hoping in so short a Carreer, both to look to their or­der, to husband their breath, and at the same time to give an advantage of violence, and impression both to their persons, and their missile Arms: Others have regulated this question in charging thus; if your E­nemy come running upon you, stand firm to receive him; if he stand to receive you, run full drive upon him.

In the expedition of the Emperour Charles the Fifth into Provence, King Francis was put to choose either to go meet him in Italy, or to expect him in his own Domi­nions; wherein, though he very well con­sidered [Page 555] of how great advantage it was, to preserve his own territories entire, and clear from the troubles, and inconvenien­ces of the War, to the end that being un­exhausted of her stores, it might continu­ally supply Men, and Money at need, that the necessity of War requires at every turn to spoil, and lay waste the Country before them, which cannot very well be done up­on ones own; to which may be added that the Country people do not so easily digest such a havock by those of their own party, as from an Enemy, so that seditions and commotions might by such means be kind­led amongst us; that the Licence of Pillage and Plunder (which are not to be tollera­ted at home) is a great ease and refreshment against the fatigues, and sufferings of War; and that who has no other prospect of gain, than his bare pay, will hardly be kept from running home, being but two steps from his Wife, and his own House: That he who lays the Cloath, is ever at the charge of the Feast: That there is more alacrity in assaulting than defending, and that the shock of a Battels loss in our own Bowels, is so violent as to endanger the disjointing of the whole Body, there being no passion so contagious as that of fear; that is so ea­sily believ'd, or that so suddenly diffuses its Poison; and that the Cities that should hear the Rattle of this Tempest, that should [Page 556] take in their Captains, and Souldiers yet trembling and out of breath, would be in danger in this heat and hurry, to precipi­tate themselves upon some untoward reso­lution: Notwithstanding all this, so it was, that he chose to recall the Forces he had beyond the Mountains, and to suffer the Enemy to come to him. For he might on the other side imagine, that being at home and amongst his Friends, he could not fail of plenty of all manner of conveniences; the Rivers, and Passes he had at his Devo­tion, would bring him in both Provisions and Money in all security, and without the trouble of Convoy; that he should find his subjects by so much the more affecti­onate to him, by how much their danger was more near and pressing; that having so many Cities and stops to secure him, it would be in his power to give the Law of Battel at his own opportunity and best ad­vantage; and if it pleas'd him to delay the time, that under covert, and at his own ease, he might see his Enemy founder, and de­feat himself with the difficulties he was cer­tain to encounter, being engag'd in an E­nemies Country, where before, behind, and on every side War would be made up­on him; no means to refresh himself or to enlarge his Quarters, should diseases infest them, or to lodge his wounded Men in safety: No Money, no Victuals, but all [Page 557] at the point of the Launce; no leisure to repose and take breath, no knowledge of the ways, or Country to secure him from Ambushes and Surprizes: And in case of losing a Battel, no possible means of saving the remains. Neither is their want of Ex­ample in both these cases. Scipio thought it much better to go attacque his Enemies territories in Affrick, than to stay at home to defend his own, and to Fight him in Ita­ly, and it succeeded well with him: But on the contrary, Hannibal in the same War ruin'd himself, by abandoning the conquest of a strange Country, to go defend his own. The Athenians having left the Ene­my in their own Dominions, to go over into Sicily, were not favoured by Fortune in their design; but Agathocles King of Sy­racuse, found her favourable to him, when he went over into Affrick, and left the War at home. By which Examples, and divers others, we are wont to conclude, and with some reason, that events especially in War, do for the most part depend upon Fortune, who will not be govern'd by, nor submit unto humane prudence; according to the Poet.

But if things hit right, it should seem that our Counsels and Deliberations depend as much upon Fortune, as any thing else we do, and that she engages our very Reason and Arguments, in her uncertainty and confusion. We Argue rashly and adven­turously, says Timaeus in Plato, by reason that, as well as our selves, our Discourses have great participation with the Temeri­ty of Chance.

CHAP. XLVIII. Of Horses drest to the Menage, call'd Destriers.

I Am now become a Grammarian; I who never Learn'd any Language but by Rote, and who do not yet know Adje­ctive, Conjunction, or Ablative. I think I have Read, that the Romans had a sort of Horses by them call'd Funales, or Dextra­rios, which were either Led-Horses, or Horses laid in at several Stages, to be taken fresh upon occasion; and thence it is, that we call our Horses of Service, Destriers: And our Romances commonly use the Phrase of destrer for accompagner, to accom­pany. They also call'd such as were drest in such sort, that running full speed side by side without Bridle or Saddle, the Roman Gentlemen Arm'd at all peices, would shift, and throw themseves from the one to the other, desultorios equos. The Numidian Men at Arms, had always a Led-Horse in one Hand, besides that they Rode up­on, to change in the heat of Battel:Livius l. 23 Qui­bus, desultorum in modum, binos trahentibus equos, inter acerrimum saepe pugnam in re­centem [Page 560] equum ex fesso armatis, transultare, mos erat. Tanta velocitas ipsis, tamque do­cile equorum genus. Whose use it was, lead­ing along two Horses after the manner of the Desultorum, Arm'd as they were, in the heat of Fight, to vault from a tir'd Horse to a fresh one; so Active were the Men and the Horses to Decile. There are many Horses train'd up to help their Ri­ders, so as to run upon any one that ap­pears with a drawn Sword, to fall both with Mouth and Heels upon any that front or oppose them: But it oft falls out, that they do more harm to their Friends, than their Enemies; considering that you cannot loose them from their hold, to re­duce them again into order, when they are once engag'd and grappled; by which means you remain at the Mercy of their senseless Quarrel. It hapned very ill to Artibius General of the Persian Army, Fighting Man to Man with Onesilus King of Salamis, to be Mounted upon a Horse drest after this manner, it being the occasi­on of his Death; the Squire of Onesilus cleaving him down with a Scyth betwixt the Shoulders, as the Horse was rear'd up upon his Master. And what the Italians report, that in the Battel of Fornoue, King Charles his Horse, with Kicks and Plunges, disengag'd his Master from the Enemy, that prest upon him, without which he [Page 561] had been Slain, sounds odly, and he ran a very great hazard, and came strangely off; if it be true. The Mamalukes made their Boast, that they had the most ready Hor­ses of any Cavalry in the World; that by nature and custom they were taught to know and distinguish the Enemy, they were to fall foul upon with Mouth and Heels, according to a Word or Sign given: As also to gather up with their Teeth Darts and Launces scatter'd upon the Feild, and present them to their Riders, as they should have occasion to use them. 'Tis said, both of Caesar and Pompey, that amongst other excellent Qualities they were Ma­sters of, they were both excellent Horse­men, and particularly of Caesar, that in his Youth, being Mounted on the bare Back, without Saddle, or Bridle, he could make him run, stop and turn, and perform all his Airs, with his Hands behind him. As Nature design'd to make of his Person, and of Alexander two Miracles of Milita­ry Art, so one would say, she had done her utmost to Arm them after an extraor­dinary manner: For every one knows, that Alexander's Horse Bucephalus had a Head enclining to the shape of a Bull, that he would suffer himself to be Mounted and Govern'd by none but his Master, and that he was so Honour'd after his Death, as to have a City Erected to his Name. Cae­sar [Page 546] had also another, who had Fore-feet like the Hands of a Man, his Hoof being divided in the form of Fingers, who like­wise was not to be Ridden by any but Cae­sar himself; who after his Death dedicated his Statue to the Goddess Venus. I do not willingly alight when I am once on Horse­back; for it is the place where, whether well, or sick, I find my self most at ease. Plato recommends it for health, as also Pliny says it is good for the Stomach, and the Joints. We Read in Xenophon a Law, forbidding any one who was Master of a Horse to Travel on Foot. Troglus and Ju­stinus say, That the Parthians were wont to perform all Offices and Ceremonies, not only in War, but also all Affairs, whether publick or private, make Bargains, confer, entertain, take the Air, and all on Horse­back; and that the greatest distinction be­twixt Free-men and Slaves amongst them, was, that the one rode on Horseback, and the other went on Foot: An Institution of which, King Cyrus was the founder. There are several Examples in the Roman History, (and Suetonius more particularly observes it of Caesar,) of Captains, who in pressing occasions Commanded their Cavalry to alight, both by that means to take from them all hopes of Flight, as also for the advantage they hop'd for in this sort of Fight. [...]vi. l. 3. Quo haud dubie superat Romanus. [Page 547] Wherein the Romans did questionless excel: So says Livie; however the first thing they did to prevent the Mutinies and In­surrections of Nations of late Conquest, was to take from them their Arms and Horses: And therefore it is that we so of­ten meet in Caesar: Arma proferri, jumen­ta produci, obsides dari jubet. Caesars Com. He Command­ed the Arms to be produc'd, the Horses brought out, and Hostages to be given. The Grand Signior to this Day, suffers not a Christian, or a Jew, to keep a Horse of his own, throughout his Empire. Our Ancestors, at the time they had War with the English, in all their greatest Engage­ments, and pitch'd Battels, Fought for the most part on Foot, that they might have nothing but their own Force, Courage and Constancy, to trust to, in a Quarrel of so great Concern, as Life and Honour. You stake (whatever Chrysantes in Xeno­phon says to the contrary,) your Valour, and your Fortune, upon that of your Horse, his Wound or Death, brings your Person into the same danger; his Fear or Fury, shall make you reputed Rash or Cowardly; if he have an ill Mouth, or will not answer to the Spur, your Honour must answer it: And therefore I do not think it strange, that those Battels I spoke of before, were more firm and furious, than those that are Fought on Horse-back.

Their Battels were much better disputed: Now adays there are nothing but Routs: primus clamor, atque impetus rem decernit. The first shout or the first charge puts an end to the business: And the Arms we choose to make use of in so great a hazard, should be as much as possible at our own command: Wherefore I should advise to choose them of the shortest sort, and such of which we are able to give the best ac­count. A man may repose more confi­dence in a Sword he holds in his Hand, than in a Bullet he discharges out of a Pistol, wherein there must be a concurrence of se­veral executions, to make it perform its office, the Powder, the Stone, and the Wheel, if any of which fail, it at least en­dangers your Fortune: A Man strikes much surer, than the Air directs him.

But of that Weapon I shall speak more sul­ly, when I come to compare the Arms of the Ancients with those of modern use, though by the way, the astonishment of the ear abated, which every one grows fa­miliar with in a little time, I look upon it as a Weapon of very little execution, and hope we shall one day lay it aside. That missile Weapon which the Italians former­ly made use of both with Fire and without, was much more terrible: They called a certain kind of Javeline Armed at the point with an Iron three foot long, that it might pierce through and through an Armed Man, Phalarica, which they sometimes in Field-service darted by hand; sometimes from several sorts of Engines for the de­fence of beleaguered places: The shaft whereof being roul'd round with Flax, Wax, Rozin, Oyl, and other combustible mat­ter, took Fire in its flight, and lighting up­on the Body of a Man, or his Targuet, took away all the use of Arms and Limbs. And yet coming to close fight, I should think they should also endammage the As­sailant, [Page 550] and that the Camp being as it were planted with these Flaming Truncheons, should produce a common innonvenience to the whole crowd.

They had moreover other devices which custom made them perfect in (which will seem incredible to us who have not seen them) by which they supply'd the effects of our powder and shot. They darted their Piles with so great violence, as oft­times transfixt two Targuets, and two Armed Men at once, and pinn'd them to­gether. Neither was the effect of their slings less certain of execution, or of short­er carriage:Livi. l. 38. Saxis globosis funda, mare a­pertum incessantes: coronas modici circuli magno ex intervallo loci assueti trajicere: non capita modo hostium vulnerabant, sed quem lo­cum destinassent. Calling round stones from the shoar for their slings: and with them practising at a great distance to throw through a Circle of very small circumfe­rence, they would not only wound an E­nemy in the head; but hit any other part at pleasure. Their pieces of Battery had [Page 155] not only the execution, but the thunder of our Canon also:Id. ibid. ad ictus menium cum terri­bili sonitu editos, pavor, & trepidatio caepit. At the Battery of the Walls, which is per­formed with a dreadful noise, the defen­dants began to fear and tremble within. The Gaules our Kinsmen in Asia, abomi­nated these treacherous missite Arms, it be­ing their use to fight with greater Bravery Hand to Hand. Non tam patentibus plagis moventur, ubi latior, quam altior plaga est, Id. ibid. etiam gloriosius se pugnare putant: iidem quum aculeus sagitte aut glandis abditae intror­sus tenui vulnere in speciem urit: tum in rabi­um et pudorem tam parvae perimentis pestis versi; prosternunt corpora humi: They are not so much concern'd at large wounds, when a wound is wider than deep, they think they have fought with greater glory: But when they find themselves tormented with­in, under the aspect of a slight wound, with the point of a Dart, or some conceal­ed glandulous Body, then transported with fury and shame, to perish by so small, and contemptible an Officer of death, they fall to ground; an expression of something very like a harquebuse shot. The ten thousand Greeks in their long and famous re­treat, met with a Nation who very much gall'd them with great and strong Bows, carrying Arrows so long, that taking them up one might return them back like a Dart, [Page 568] and with them pierce a Buckler, and an Armed Man through and through. The Engines of Dionysius his invention at Syra­cusa, to shoot vast massy Darts, and Stones of a prodigious greatness with so great im­petuosity, and at so great a distance, came very near to our modern inventions. But in this discourse of Horses and Horseman­ship, we are not to forget the pleasant po­sture of one Maistre Pierre Pol, a Doctor of Divinity, upon his Mule, whom Men­strelet reports always to have rid aside through the streets of Paris like a Woman. He says also elsewhere, that the Gascons had terrible Horses, that would wheel, and make the Pirouette in their full speed, which the French, Picards, Dutch, and Bra­banters lookt upon as a Miracle, having ne­ver seen the like before; which are his very words. Caesar speaking of the Swedes; in the charges they make on Horseback, says he, they often throw themselves off to fight on foot, having taught their Horses not to stir in the mean time from the place, to which they presently run again upon occa­sion; and according to their custome, no­thing is so unmanly, and so base as to use Saddles, or Pads, and they dispise such as make use of those conveniences: insomuch that being but a very few in number, they fear not to attack a great many. That which I have formerly wondred at, to see [Page 569] a Horse made to perform all his Airs with a Switch only, and the Reins upon his Neck, was common with the Massilians, who rid their Horses without Saddle or Bridle.

Equi sine fraenis, deformis ipse [...], rigida cervice, & extento capite currentium. Livel. 35. The Career of a Horse without a Bridle must needs be ungrateful, his Neck being ex­tended stiff, and his Nose thrust out. King Alphonso, he who first instituted the Order des Chevaliers de la Bande, or de l' Escharpe in Spain, amongst other rules of the Order gave them this, that they should ne­ver ride Mule or Mulet, upon penalty of a Mark of Silver; which I had lately out of Guevara's Letters; which whoever gave them the title of Golden Epistles, had another kind of opinion of them than I have, and perhaps saw more in them than I do. The Courtier says, that till his time it was a disgrace to a Gentleman to ride [Page 554] one of these Creatures: But the Abyssins on the contrary, as they are nearer ad­vanc'd to the person of Prester John, do affect to be mounted upon large Mules, for the greatest dignity and grandeur. Xenophon tells us, that the Assyrians were fain to keep their Horses fetter'd in the Stable, they were so fierce and vicious: and that it requir'd so much time to loose and harness them, that to avoid any dis­order this tedious preparation might bring upon them, in case of surprize, they ne­ver sate down in their Camp, till it was first well fortified with Ditches and Ram­pires. His Cyrus, who was so great a Ma­ster in al [...] [...]ner of Horse Service, kept his Horses to their ordinary, and never suffer'd them to have any thing to eat till first they had earn'd it by the sweat of some kind of exercise. The Scythians when in the Field, and in scarcity of provisions, us'd to let their Horses blood, which they drank, and sustain'd themselves by that diet.

Those of Crotta being besieg'd by Metel­lus, were in so great necessity for drink, that they were fain to quench their thirst [Page 555] with their Horses Urine: and to shew how much better cheap the Turkish Ar­mies support themselves than our European Forces, 'tis said, that besides that the Soul­diers drink nothing but Water, and eat no­thing but Rice and Salt Flesh pulveriz'd (of which every one may easily carry about with him a months provision) they know how to feed upon the Blood of their Horses, as well as the Moscovite and Tartar, and salt it for their use. These new disco­ver'd people of the Indies, when the Spa­niards first landed amongst them, had so great an opinion both of the Men and Horses, that they lookt upon the first as Gods, and the other Animals enobled a­bove their nature. Insomuch that after they were subdu'd, coming to sue for Peace, and to bring them Gold and Pro­visions, they fail'd not to present of the same to the Horses, with the same kind of harangue to them, they had made to the other; interpreting their neighing for a language of Truce and Friendship. In these nearer Indies, to ride upon an Ele­phant was the first place of Honour, the second to ride in a Coach with four Horses, the third to ride upon a Camel, and the last to be carried, or drawn, by one Horse only. Some one of our late Writers tells us, that he has been in a Country in those parts, where they ride [Page 572] upon Oxen with Pads, Stirrups, and Bri­dles, and very much at their ease. Quin­tus Fabius Maximus Rutilianus in a Battel with the Samnites, seeing his Horse, after three or four Charges, had fail'd of break­ing into the Enemies Battalion, took this course, to make them unbridle all their Horses, so that having nothing to check their Career, they might through Weapons and Men, open the way to his foot, who by that means gave them a bloody defeat. The same command was given by Quintus Fulvius Flaccus against the Celtiberians: Livi. l. 40. Id cum majore vi equorum facietis, si effraena­tos in hostes equos immittatis: quod saepe Ro­manos equites cum laude fecisse memoriae pro­ditum est. Detractisque fraenis bis ultro ci­troque cum magna strage hostium, in fractis om­nibus hastis, transcurrerunt. You will do your business with greater advantage of your Horses strength, if you spur them unbridled upon the Enemy, as it is record­ed the Roman Horse to their great Glory have often done. And their Bits being pull'd off without breaking a Launce, to have charg'd through and through, with greater slaughter of the Enemy: The Duke of Muscovie was anciently oblig'd to pay this reverence to the Tartars, that when they sent any one Embassy to him, he went out to meet them on foot, and pre­sented them with a Mazer, or Goblet of [Page 573] Mares Milk (a beverage of greatest esteem amongst them) and so great, that if in Drinking, a drop fell by chance upon the Horses Mayn, they thought themselves in­dispensably bound to lick it off with their Tongue: The Army that Bajazet had sent into Russia, was overwhelm'd with so dread­ful a Tempest of Snow, that to shelter, and preserve themselves from starving, many ript up, and embowell'd their Horses, to creep into their Bellies, and enjoy the benefit of that Vital heat. Ba­jazet, after that furious Battel wherein he was overthrown by Tamerlane, was in a hopeful way of secu [...]ing his own person by the fleetness of an Arabian Mare he had under him, had he not been constrain'd to let her drink her fill at the ford of a River in his way, which render'd her so heavy and indispos'd, that he was after­wards easily overtaken by those that pur­su'd him: They say indeed that to let a Horse stale takes him off his mettle, but I should rather have thought that drinking would have refresht her, and reviv'd her spirits: Craesus marching his Army through certain furrs near Sardis, met with an infinite num­ber of Serpents, which the Horses devou­red with great appetite, and which Hero­dotus says was a prodigy of ominous por­tent to his affairs. We call a Horse Cheval entier, that has his Mayn, Ears, and other [Page 558] parts entire, and no other will pass muster· The Lacedemonians having defeated the Athenians in Sicily, returning triumphant from the victory into the City of Syracusa, amongst other insolencies, caus'd all the Horses they had taken to be shorn, and led in tryumph. Alexander fought with a Nation call'd Daae; a people whose Disci­pline it was to march two and two together, Arm'd on Horseback to the War, and be­ing in Fight one always alighted, and so they fought one while on Horseback and another on Foot, one after another by turns. I do not think that for graceful ri­ding, any Nation in the World excells the French; though a good Horseman, accord­ing to our way of speaking, seems rather to respect the Courage of the Man than his Horsemanship and address in riding. Of all that ever I saw the most knowing in that Art, that had the best seat, and the best method in breaking Horses, was Mon­sieur de Carnevalet who served our King Henry the Second: I have seen a Man ride with both his feet upon the Saddle, take off his Saddle, and at his return take it up again, refit, and remount it, riding all the while full speed; having Gallopt over a Bonnet, make at it very good shoots back­wards with his Bow, take up any thing from the ground, setting one foot down and the other in the Stirrup; with twenty [Page 559] other Apes-tricks, which he got his living by. There has been seen in my time at Constantinople two Men upon an Horse, who in the height of his speed would throw themselves off, and into the Saddle again by turn, and one who Bridled and Saddled his Horse with nothing but his Teeth. A­nother who betwixt two Horses, one foot upon one Saddle, and another upon the o­ther, carrying another upon his Shoulders; would ride full careeer, the other standing bolt upright upon him, making very good shoots with his Bow. Several who would ride full speed with their heels upward, and their Hands upon the Saddle betwixt several Scymiters, with the points upward fixt in the Harness. When I was a Boy, the Prince of Salmona, riding a rough Horse at Naples to all his Airs, held Reals under his Knees and Toes; as if they had been nail'd there, to shew the firmness of his Seat.

CHAP. XLIX. Of Ancient Customs.

I Should willingly pardon our people for admitting no other pattern, or rule of [Page 576] perfection, than their own peculiar man­ners and customs. It being a common vice, not of the vulgar only, but almost of all Men, to walk in the Beaten Road, their Ancestors have trod before them: I am content when they see Fabritius or Lelius, that they look upon their countenance and behaviour as barbarous, seeing they are neither cloath'd, nor fashion'd according to our mode. But I find fault with their sin­gularity, when it arrives to that degree of indiscretion, as to suffer themselves to be impos'd upon by authority of the present usance, as every Month to alter their opi­nion, if custom so require, and that they should so vary their judgement in their own particular concern: When they wore the Belly-pieces of their Doublets up as high as their Breasts, they stifly maintain'd that they were in their proper place: some years after they were slipt down betwixt their Thighs, and then they could laugh at the former fashion as uneasy and intollerable. The fashion now in use, makes them abso­lutely condemn the other two, with so great indignation, and so universal con­tempt, that a Man would think, there was a certain kind of madness crept in amongst them, that infatuates their understandings, to this strange degree. Now seeing that our change of fashions is so prompt and sud­den, that the inventions of all the Taylors [Page 577] in the World, cannot furnish out new Whim-whams enow to feed our vanity withal; there will often be a necessity, that the despised ones must again come in vogue, and even those immediately after fall into the same contempt, and that the same judgement must in the space of fif­teen or twenty years, take up not only different, but contrary opinions, with an incredible lightness and inconstancy: There is not any of us so cautelous and dis­creet, that suffers not himself to be gull'd with this contradiction, and both in exter­nal and internal sight to be insensibly blind­ed. I will here muster up some old cu­stoms, that I have in memory, some of them the same with ours, the others diffe­rent, to the end, that bearing in mind this continual variation of humane things, we may have our judgements clearer, and more firmly settled: the thing in use a­mongst us of fighting with Rapier and Cloak, was in practice amongst the Romans also, Sinistris sagos involvant, gladiosque di­stringuunt. Caesar de bello civili lib. 1. They wrapt their Cloaks up­on the left Arm, and handled the Sword with the right, says Caesar: And I observe an old vicious Custom of our Nation, which continues yet amongst us, which is to stop passengers we meet upon the Road, to compel them to give an account who they are; and to take it for an injury, and just [Page 578] cause of quarrel, if they refuse to do it: At the Baths, which the ancients made use of every day before they went to Dinner, and as frequently as we wash our Hands, they at first only bath'd their Arms and Legs; but afterwards, and by a Custom that has continued for many Ages in most Nations of the World, they bath'd stark naked in mixt and perfum'd waters, look­ing upon it as a great simplicity to bath in meer water: The most delicate and affect­ed, perfum'd themselves all over three or four times a day. They often caused their hair to be pincht off; as the Women of France have some time since, taken up a Custom to do their Foreheads.

though they had Ointments proper for that purpose.

they delighted to lye soft, and pretended it for a great testimony of hardness, to lye [Page 579] upon a matrice. They did eat lying upon Beds, much after the manner of the Turks in this Age.

And 'tis said of the younger Cato, that after the Battel of Pharsalia, being entred into a melanchollick disposition, at the ill posture of the publick affairs, he took his repose always sitting, assuming a strict and severe course of Life. It was also their custom to Kiss the Hands of great persons; the more and better to honour, and caress them: And meeting with their equals, they always Kist in salutation, as do the Venetians.

In petitioning, or saluting any great Man, they us'd to lay their Hands upon his knees. Pasiclez the Philosopher and Brother of Cra­tes, instead of laying his Hand upon the knee, laid it upon his private parts, and being rudely repulst by him to whom he made that indecent complement; What said he, is not that part your own as well [Page 580] as the other? They us'd to eat their fruits as we do after Dinner. They whipt their Arses (let the Ladies if they please mince it smaller) with a Spunge; which is the reason that Spongia is a smutty word in La­tine: Which Spunge was also fastned to the end of a stick, as appears by the Story of him, who as he was led along to be thrown to the wild beasts in the sight of the people, asking leave to do his business, and having no other way to dispatch himself, forc't the Spunge and Stick down his own Throat and choaked himself. They us'd to terge after coition with perfum'd Wool.

they us'd in the streets of Rome, to place certain Vessels and little Tubs, for passen­gers to piss in.

They us'd to collation betwixt Meals, and had in Summer, Sellers of Snow to cool their Wine; and some there were who made use of Snow in Winter, not thinking their [Page 581] Wine cool enough at that cold season of the year. The Men of quality had their Cup-bearers, and Carvers, and their Boof­foons to make them sport: They had their meat served up in Winter, upon a sort of Chafing-Dishes; which were set upon the Table, and had portable Kitchins (of which I my self have seen some) wherein all their service was carried after them.

In Summer they had a contrivance, to bring fresh and clear rills through their low­er Rooms, wherein were great store of li­ving fish, which the guests took out with their own Hands to be drest; every Man according to his own liking. Fish has ever had this preeminence, and keeps it still, that the great ones all pretend to be Cooks in their favour, and indeed the taste is more delicate, than that of Flesh, at least to me. But in all sorts of magnificence, debau­chery, and voluptuous inventions of effe­minacy and expence, we do in truth all we can to parallel them, for our wills are as corrupt as theirs: but we want power to [Page 582] reach them; and our force is no more a­ble to reach them in their vicious, than in their vertuous qualities; for both the one and the other, proceed from a vigour of soul, which was without comparison great­er in them, than in us: And souls, by how much the weaker they are, by so much have they less power to do or very well, or very ill: The highest place of honour amongst them was the middle; the name going before, and that following after, either in writing or speaking; had no sig­nification of Grandeur, as is evident by their writings, they will sooner say Oppius and Caesar, than Caesar and Oppius, and me, and thee, than thee, and me; which is the reason that made me formerly take notice in the life of Flaminius, in our French Plutarch of one passage, where it seems as if the Author, speaking of the jealousie of honour, betwixt the Aetolians and Romans, about the winning of a Battel, they had with their join'd forces obtain'd, made it of some importance, that in the Greek Songs, they had put the Aetolians before the Ro­mans: If there be no amphibology, or dou­ble dealing in the words of the French tran­slation; an instance of which I present you out of Plutarch, though Monsieur de Mon­taigne did not think it worth repeating.

The Ladies in their Baths, made no scru­ple of admitting Men amongst them, and moreover made use of their Serving-men to Rub and Anoint them:

They all Powdered themselves with a cer­tain Powder, to moderate their Sweats. The Ancient Gaules, says Sidonius Apolli­naris, wore their Hair long before, and the hinder part of the Head cut short, a Fa­shion that begins to be reviv'd in this Vici­ous and Effeminate Age. The Romans us'd to pay the Watermen their Fare, at their first stepping into the Boat, [Page 584] which we never do till after Landing.

The Women us'd to lie on that side the Bed, next the Wall: And for that reason, they call'd Caesar, Spondam Regis Nicome­dis, one of the greatest Blemishes in his Life, and that gave occasion to his Soul­diers to sing to his Face,

They took Breath in their Drinking, and dash'd their Wine,

And the Roguish Looks and Gestures of our Lacquey's was also in use amongst them.

The Argian and Roman Ladies, always Mourn'd in White, as ours did formerly here; and should do still, were I to Go­vern in this point. But there are whole Books of this Argument.

CHAP. L. Of Democritus and Heraclitus.

THe Judgment is an utensil proper for all subjects, and will have an Oar in every thing: which is the reason, that in these Essays I take hold of all occa­sions. Where, though it happen to be a subject I do not very well understand, I try however, sounding it at a di­stance, and finding it too deep for my stature, I keep me on the firm shoar: and this knowledge that a Man can pro­ceed no further, is one effect of its Ver­tue, even in the most inconsidering sort of men. One while in an idle and frivo­lous subject, I try to find out matter whereof to compose a body, and then to prop, and support it. Another while I employ it in a noble subject, one that has been tost and tumbled by a thousand hands, wherein a Man can hardly possibly intro­duce any thing of his own, the way be­ing so beaten on every side, that he must of necessity walk in the steps of another. In such a case, 'tis the work of the judg­ment to take the way that seems best, and of a thousand paths, to determine [Page 587] that this or that, was the best chosen. I leave the choice of my arguments to Fortune, and take that the first presents me; they are all alike to me, I never design to go through any of them; for I never see all of any thing: Neither do they who so largely promise to shew it others. Of a hundred Members and Faces that every thing has, I take one, one while to look it over only, another while to ripple up the Skin, and sometimes to pinch it to the Bones: I give a stab, not so wide, but as deep as I can; and am for the most part, tempted to take it in hand by some absolute gracefulness I discover in it. Did I know my self less, I might perhaps ven­ture to handle something or other to the bottom, and to be deceiv'd in my own in­ability, but sprinkling here one word, and there another, Patterns cut from several Pieces, and scatter'd without design, and without engaging my self too far, I am not responsible for them, or oblig'd to keep close to my subject, without varying at my own liberty and pleasure, and giving up my self to doubt and incertainty, and to my own governing Method, Ignorance. All Motion discovers us. The very same Soul of Caesar, that made it self so Conspicu­ous in Marshalling and Commanding the Battle of Pharsalia, was also seen as Solici­tous and Busie in the softer Affairs of Love. [Page 588] A Man makes a Judgment of a Horse, not only by seeing his Menage in his Airs, but by his very walk, nay, and by seeing him stand in the Stable. Amongst the Functi­ons of the Soul, there are some of a lower and meaner Form, who does not see her in those Inferiour Offices, as well as those of Nobler Note, never fully discover her; and peradventure, she is best discover'd, where she moves her own natural pace. The Winds of Passions take most hold of her in her highest flights; and, the rather, by reason that she wholely applys her self to, and exercises her whole Vertue upon every particular subject, and never handles more than one thing at a time, and that not according to it, but according to her self. Things in respect to themselves, have per­adventure their Weight, Measures and Conditions; but when we once take them into us, the Soul forms them as she pleases. Death is Terrible to Cicero, Coveted by Cato, and Indifferent to Socrates. Health, Conscience, Authority, Knowledg, Riches, Beauty, and their contraries, do all strip themselves at their entring into us, and receive a new Robe, and of another Fa­shion, from every distinct Soul, and of what Colour, Brown, Bright, Green, Dark and Quality, Sharp, Sweet, Deep, or Superficial, as best pleases them, for they are not yet agreed upon any com­mon [Page 589] Standard of Forms, Rules, or Pro­ceedings; every one is a Queen in her own Dominions. Let us therefore no more excuse our selves upon the External Qualities of things, it belongs to us to give our selves an account of them. Our good or ill, has no other dependance, but on our selves. 'Tis there that our Offer­ings and our Vows are due, and not to Fortune: She has no power over our Manners, on the contrary, they draw, and make her follow in their Train, and cast her in their own Mould. Why should not I Censure Alexander, Roaring and Drink­ing at the prodigious rate he sometimes us'd to do? Or, if he plaid at Chess, what string of his Soul was not touch'd by this Idle and Childish Game? I hate and avoid it, because it is not Play enough, that it is too grave and serious a Diversi­on, and I am asham'd to lay out as much Thought and Study upon that, as would serve to much better uses. He did not more pump his Brains about his Glorious Expedition into the Indies; and another that I will not name, took not more pains to unravel a passage, upon which depends the safety of all Mankind. To what a de­gree then does this ridiculous Diversion molest the Soul, when all her Faculties shall be summon'd together upon this Tri­vial Account? And how fair an oportu­nity [Page 590] she herein gives every one to know, and to make a right Judgment of him­self? I do not more throughly sift my self in any other posture, than this. What Passion are we exempted from in this in­significant Game? Anger, Spite, Malice, Impatience, and a vehement desire of get­ting the better in a concern, wherein it were more excusable, to be Ambitious of being overcome: For to be Eminent, and to excel above the common rate in frivo­lous things, is nothing graceful in a Man of Quality and Honour. What I say in this Example, may be said in all others. Every Particle, every Employment of Man, does Exalt or Accuse him, equally with any other. Democritus and Heracli­tus were two Philosophers, of which, the first finding Humane Condition Ridiculous and Vain, never appear'd abroad, but with a Jeering and Laughing Countenance: Whereas Heraclitus Commiserating that Condition of ours, appear'd always with a Sorrowful Look, and Tears in his Eyes.

[Page 591] I am clearly for the first Humour; not because it is more pleasant to Laugh, than to Weep; but because it is Ruder, and expresses more Contempt, than the other; because I think we can never be sufficient­ly despis'd to our desert. Compassion and Bewailing, seem to imploy some Esteem of, and Value for the thing Bemoan'd: where­as the things we Laugh at, are by that ex­prest to be of no Moment or Repute. I do not think that we are so Unhappy, as we are Vain, or have in us so much Ma­lice, as Folly; we are not so full of Mis­chief, as Inanity: Nor so Miserable, as we are Vile and Mean. And therefore Diogenes, who past away his time in rowl­ing himself in his Tub, and made nothing of the Great Alexander, esteeming us no better than Flies or Bladders puft up with Wind, was a sharper, and more penetra­ting, and consequently in my opinion, a juster Judg, than Timon Sir-nam'd the Man-Hater; for what a Man hates he lays to Heart: This last was an Enemy to all Mankind, did positively desire our Ruin, and avoided our Conversation as dan­gerous, proceeding from Wicked and De­prav'd Natures: The other valued us so little, that we could neither trouble, nor infect him by our Contagion; and left us to Herd with one another, not out of Fear, but Contempt of our Society: Con­cluding [Page 592] us as incapable of doing good, as ill. Of the same strain was Statilius his Answer, when Brutus Courted him into the Conspiracy against Caesar, He was sa­tisfied that the Enterprize was Just; but he did not think Mankind so considerable, as to deserve a Wise Man's Concern: According to the Doctrine of Hegesias; who said, That a Wise Man ought to do nothing but for himself, forasmuch as he only was worthy of it: And to the saying of Theodorus, That it was not reasonable a Wise Man should hazard himself for his Country, and endanger Wis­dom, for a company of Fools. Our Condi­tion is as Ridiculous, as Risible.

CHAP. LI. Of the Vanity of Words.

A Rhetorician of times past, said, That to make little things appear great, was his profession. This is a Shooe-maker, who can make a great Shooe for a little Foot. They would in Sparta have sent such a Fellow to be Whip'd, for making profession of a lying and deceitful Art: And I fancy, that Archidamus who was King of that Country, was a little sur­priz'd [Page 593] at the Answer of Thucydides, when enquiring of him, which was the better Wrestler, Pericles, or he▪ he reply'd, that it was hard to affirm; for when I have thrown him, said he, he always perswades the Spectators, that he had no fall, and carries away the Prize. They who Paint, Pounce and Plaister up the Ruins of Wo­men, filling up their Wrinckles and De­formities, are less to blame; because it is no great matter, whether we see them in their Natural Complexions, or no: where­as these make it their business to deceive not our sight only, but our Judgments, and to Adulterate and Corrupt the very Essence of things. The Republicks that have maintain'd themselves in a Regular and well Modell'd Government, such as those of Lacedemon and Creet, had Orators in no very great Esteem. Aristo did wisely define Rhetorick to be a Science to perswade the People; Socrates and Plato, an Art to Flatter and Deceive: And those who deny it in the general description, ve­rifie it throughout in their Precepts. The Mahometans will not suffer their Children to be Instructed in it, as being useless, and the Athenians perceiving of how pernici­ous Consequence the Practice of it was, it being in their City of universal Esteem, order'd the principal part, which is to move Affections, with their Exordiums [Page 594] and Perorations, to be taken away. 'Tis an Engine invented, to manage and govern a disorderly and tumultuous Rabble, and that never is made use of, but like Physick to the Sick, in the Paroxisms of a discom­pos'd Estate. In those, where the Vulgar, or the ignorant, or both together, have been all powerful, and able to give the Law, as in those of Athens, Rodes and Rome, and where the Publick Affairs have been in a continual Tempest of Commo­tion, to such places have the Orators al­ways repair'd. And in truth, we shall find few persons in those Republicks, who have push'd their Fortunes to any great de­gree of Eminence, without the assistance of Elocution: Pompey, Caesar, Crassus, Lucullus, Lentulus and Metellus, have thence taken their chiefest Spring, to mount to that degree of Authority, to which they did at last arrive: Making it of greater use of them, than Arms, contrary to the opinion of better times. For L. Volumnius speaking publickly in favour of the Electi­on of Q. Fabius, and Pub. Decius, to the Consular Dignity: These are Men, said he, born for War, and great in Execution, in the Combat of the Tongue altogether to seek; Spirits truly Consular. The Sub­tle, Eloquent and Learned, are only good for the City, to make Praetors of, to ad­minister Justice. Eloquence Flourish'd most [Page 595] at Rome, when the Publick Affairs were in the worst condition, and the Republick most disquieted with intestine Commoti­ons, as a frank and untill'd Soil bears the worst Weeds. By which it should seem, that a Monarchical Government has less need of it, than any other: For the Bru­tality, and Facility, natural to the com­mon People, and that render them subject to be turn'd and twin'd, and led by the Ears, by this charming harmony of words, without weighing or considering the truth and realty of things by the force of reason: This Facility, I say, is not easily found in a single person, and it is also more easie by good Education and Advice, to secure him from the impression of this Poison. There was never any famous Orator known to come out of Persia, or Macedon.

I have entred into this discourse upon the occasion of an Italian I lately receiv'd into my Service, and who was Clerk of the Kitchen to the late Cardinal Caraffa till his Death. I put this Fellow upon an account of his Office: where he fell to discourse of this Palate-Science, with such a settled Countenance, and Magisterial Gravity, as if he had been handling some profound point of Divinity. He made a Learned distinction of the several sorts of Appe­tites; of that a Man has before he begins to Eat, and of those after the second and [Page 596] third Service: The means simply to satisfie the first, and then to raise and accuate the other two: The ordering of the Sawces, first in general, and then proceeded to the qualities of the Ingredients, and their ef­fects: The differences of Sallets according to their seasons, which ought to be serv'd up hot, and which cold: The manner of their Garnishment and Decoration, to ren­der them yet more acceptable to the Eye: After which he entred upon the order of the whole Service, full of weighty and important Considerations.

And all this set out with lofty and magni­fick Words; the very same we make use of, when we discourse of the Regiment of an Empire. Which Learned Lecture of my Man, brought this of Terence into my Memory.

And yet even the Greeks themselves did ve­ry much admire, and highly applaud the order and disposition that Paulus Aemylius observ'd in the Feast he made them at his return from Macedon: But I do not here speak of effects, I speak of words only. I do not know whether it may have the same operation upon other Men, that it has upon me: But when I hear our Architects thunder out their Bombast words of Pil­lasters, Architraves and Coronices, of the Corinthian and Dorick Orders, and such like stuff, my imagination is presently pos­sess'd with the Pallace of Apollidonius in A­madis de Gaule; when after all, I find them but the palfry peices of my own Kitchin Door. And to hear Men talk of Metono­mies, Metaphors and Allegories, and other Grammer words, would not a Man think they signified some rare and exatick form of speaking? And this other is a Gullery [Page 598] of the same stamp, to call the Offices of our Kingdom by the lofty Titles of the Romans, though they have no similitude of Function, and yet less Authority and Pow­er. And this also, which I doubt will one Day turn to the Reproach of this Age of ours, unworthily and indifferently to con­fer upon any we think fit, the most glori­ous Sir-names with which Antiquity Ho­nour'd but one or two persons in several Ages. Plato carried away the Sir-name of Divine, by so universal a consent, that ne­ver any one repin'd at it, or attempted to take it from him: And yet the Italians who pretend, and with good reason, to more spritely Wits, and founder Discourses, than the other Nations of their time, have late­ly Honour'd Aretine with the same Title; in whose Writings, save a tumid Phrase, set out with smart Periods, ingenious indeed, but far fetch'd, and Fantastick, and the E­loquence (be it what it will) I see nothing in him above the ordinary Writers of his time, so far is he from approaching the Ancient Divinity. And we make nothing of giving the Sir-name of Great to Princes, that have nothing in them above a Popular Grandeur.

CHAP. LII. Of the Parcimony of the Ancients.

ATtilius Regulus, General of the Roman Army in Africk, in the height of all his Glory and Victories over the Carthagini­ans, writ to the Republick to acquaint them, that a certain Hind he had left in trust with his whole Estate, which was in all, but Seven Acres of Land, was run a­way with all his Instruments of Husban­dry, entreating therefore, that they would please to call him home, that he might take order in his own Affairs, lest his Wife and Children should suffer by this disaster: Whereupon the Senate appointed another to manage his Business, caus'd his Losses to be made good, and order'd his Family to be maintain'd at the Publick Expence. The Elder Cato returning Consul from Spain, sold his Horse of Service, to save the Mo­ney it would have cost in bringing him back by Sea into Italy: And being Gover­nour of Sardignia, made all his Visits on foot, without other Train, than one Offi­cer of the Republick, that carried his Robe and a Cencer for Sacrifices; and for [Page 600] the most part carried his Male himself. He brag'd, that he had never worn a Gown that cost above Ten Crowns, nor had ever sent above Ten Pence to the Market for one Days Provision, and that as to his Country Houses, he had not one that was rough cast on the outside. Scypio Aemylia­nus, after two Triumphs, and two Con­sul-ships, went an Embassy with no more than Seven Servants in his Train. 'Tis said, that Homer had never more than one, Plato three, and Zeno, founder of the Sect of Stoicks, none at all. Tyberius Gracchus was allow'd but Five Pence Half-penny a Day, when employ'd as Publick Minister about the Publick Affairs, and being at that time the greatest Man of Rome.

CHAP. LIII. Of a Saying of Caesar.

IF we would sometimes bestow a little Consideration upon our selves, and em­ploy the time we spend in prying into o­ther Mens Actions, and discovering things without us, in examining our own Abilities, we should soon perceive of how infirm and decaying Materials this Fabrick of ours is [Page 601] compos'd. Is it not a singular testimony of Imperfection, that we cannot establish our satisfaction in any one thing, and that even our own Fancy and Desire, should de­prive us of the power to choose what is most proper and useful for us? A very good proof of this, is the great Dispute that has ever been amongst the Philoso­phers, of finding out a Man's principal and soveraign Good, that continues yet, and will eternally continue, without Resoluti­on, or Accord.

Whatever it is that falls into our knowledg and possession, we find that it satisfies not, and still pant after things to come, and un­known: By reason the present do not sa­tiate and glut us, not that, in my judg­ment, they have not in them wherewith to do it, but because we seize them with an unruly and immoderate haste.

Our Appetite is irresolute and fickle, it can neither keep nor enjoy any thing grace­fully, and as it should: And Man con­cluding it to be the fault of the things he is possess'd of, fills himself with, and feeds himself upon, the Idea of things he nei­ther knows, nor understands, to which he devotes his hopes, and his desires, paying [Page 603] them all Reverence and Honour, accord­ing to the saying of Caesar, Communi fit vi­tio naturae, ut invisis latitantibus atque in­cognitis rebus magis confidamus, vehementi­usque exterreamur. 'Tis the common Vice of Nature, that we repose most confi­dence, and receive the greatest apprehensi­ons, from things unseen, conceal'd and un­known.

CHAP. LIV. Of Vain Subtilties.

THere are a sort of little Knacks, and frivolous Subtilties, from which Men sometimes expect to derive Reputati­on and Applause: As the Poets, who compose whole Poems, with every Line beginning with the same Letter: We see the shapes of Eggs, Globes, Wings and Hatchets, cut out by the Ancient Greeks, by the measure of their Verses, making them longer or shorter, to represent such or such a Figure. Of this nature was his Employment, who made it his business, to compute into how many several Orders the Letters of the Alphabet might be trans­pos'd, and found out that incredible num­ber [Page 604] mention'd in Plutarch. I am mightily pleas'd with the humour of the Gentle­man, who, having a Man brought before him, that had learn'd to throw a Grain of Millet with such dexterity and assurance, as never to miss the Eye of a Needle; and being afterwards entreated to give some­thing for the reward of so rare a perfor­mance, he pleasantly, and in my opinion, ingeniously order'd a certain number of Bushels of the same Grain to be deliver'd to him, that he might not want where­with to exercise so famous an Art. 'Tis a strong evidence of a weak Judgment, when Men approve of things for their being rare and new, or yet for the difficulty; where Vertue and Usefulness are not conjoin'd to recommend them. I come just now from playing with my own Family, at who could find out the most things, that had their principal force in their two Extremities; as, Sire, which is a Title given to the great­est person in the Nation, the King, and also to the Vulgar, as Merchants and Me­chanicks, but never to any degree of Men between. The Women of great Quality are call'd Madams, inferiour Gentlewomen, Mademoiselles, and the meanest sort of Women, Madams, as the first. The Ca­nopy of State over Tables are not permit­ted, but in the Pallaces of Princes, and Taverns. Democritus said, that Gods and [Page 605] Beasts, had a more exact and perfect sense, than Men, who are of a middle Form. The Romans wore the same Habit at Fune­rals and Feasts; and it is most certain, that an extream Fear, and an extream Ardour of Courage, do equally trouble and lax the Belly. The Nickname of Trembling, with which they Sirnam'd Sancho the XII. King of Navarre, sufficiently informeth, that Valour will cause a trembling in the Limbs, as well as Fear. The Friends of that King, or of some other person, who upon the like occasion was wont to be in the same disorder, try'd to compose him, by representing the danger less, he was go­ing to engage himself in: You understand me ill, said he, for could my Flesh know the danger my Courage will presently car­ry it into, it would sink down to the ground. The faintness that surprizes us from Frigidity, or dislike in the exercises of Venus, are also occasion'd by a too vio­lent desire, and an immoderate heat. Ex­tream Coldness, and extream Heat, Boil and Roast. Aristotle says, that Sows of Lead will melt, and run with Cold, and the extreamity of Winter, as with a vehe­ment Heat. Desire and Saciety fill all the gradations above and below Pleasure with Grief. Brutality and Wisdom meet in the same Center of Sentiment and Resolution, in the suffering of Humane Accidents; the [Page 606] Wise Controul and Triumph over ill, the others know it not: These last are, as a Man may say, on this side of Accidents, the other are beyond them; who after having well weigh'd and consider'd their Qualities, measur'd and judg'd them what they are, by vertue of a vigorous Soul leap out of their reach. They disdain and trample them under foot, having a solid and well fortified Soul, against which the Darts of Fortune coming to strike, they must of necessity rebound, and blunt them­selves, meeting with a Body upon which they can fix no Impression; the ordinary and middle condition of Men, are lodg'd betwixt these two Extremities, consisting of such, who perceive Evils, feel them, and are not able to support them. Infancy and Decrepitude meet in the imbecillity of the Brain; Avarice and Profusion in the same thirst and desire of getting. A Man may say with some colour of truth, that there is an Abecedarian ignorance that pre­cedes knowledge, and a Doctoral Ignorance that comes after it; an Ignorance that knowledge does create and beget, at the same time that she dispatches and destroys the first. Of mean understandings, little inquisitive, and little instructed, are made good Christians, who by reverence and obedience implicitely believe, and are con­stant in their belief. In the moderate un­derstandings, [Page 607] and the middle sort of capa­cities, the error of Opinions is begot, and they have some colour of reason on their side, to impute our walking on in the old beaten path to simplicity, and brutishness, I mean in us who have not inform'd our selves by Study. The higher, and nobler Souls, more solid and clear sighted, make up another sort of true believers: who by a long and Religious investigation of truth, have obtain'd a clearer, and more penetra­ting, light into the Scriptures, and have discover'd the Mysterious and Divine se­cret of our Ecclesiastical Polity. And yet we see some, who by this middle step, are arriv'd to that supream degree with marve­lous Fruit, and Confirmation; as to the utmost limit of Christian intelligence, and enjoying their victory with great Spiritual consolation, humble acknowledgment of the Divine favour, examplary reformation of manners, and Singular modesty. I do not intend with these to rank some others, who to clear themselves from all suspicion of their former Errours, and to satisfie us, that they are sound and firm to us, render themselves extream indiscreet and unjust, in the carrying on our Cause, and by that means blemish it with infinite Reproaches of Violence and Oppression. The simple Peasants are good People, and so are the Philosophers: Men of strong and clear [Page 608] Reason, and whose Souls are enrich'd with an ample instruction of profitable Sciences. The Mongrets who have disdain'd the first form of the Ignorance of Letters, and have not been able to attain to the other, (sitting betwixt two Stools, as I, and a great many more of us do,) are dange­rous, foolish and importunate; these are they that trouble the World. And there­fore it is, that I, for my own part, retreat as much as I can towards my first and na­tural Station, from whence I so vainly at­tempted to advance. The vulgar and purely natural Poesie, has in it certain Pro­prieties and Graces, by which she may come into some comparison with the great­est Beauty of a Poesie perfected by Art: As is evident in our Gascon Villanels and Songs, that are brought us from Nations that have no knowledg of any manner of Science, nor so much as the use of Writing. The indifferent and middle sort of Poesie betwixt these two, is dispis'd, of no Value, Honour or Esteem. But seeing that the Ice being once broken, and a Path laid open to the Fancy, I have found, as it commonly falls out, that what we make choice of for a rare and difficult Subject, proves to be nothing so, and that after the invention is once warm, it finds out an infinite number of parallel Examples, I shall only add this one; That were these Essays [Page 609] of mine considerable enough to deserve a Censure, it might then I think fall out, that they would not much take with com­mon and vulgar Capacities, nor be very acceptable to the singular and excellent sort of Men, for the first would not un­derstand them enough, and the last too much, and so they might hover in the middle Region.

CHAP. LV. Of Smells.

IT has been reported of others, as well as of Alexander the Great, that their Sweat exhal'd an Odoriferous Smell, occasion'd by some rare and extraordinary constitution, of which Plutarch, and o­thers, have been inquisitive into the cause. But the ordinary constitution of Humane Bodies is quite otherwise, and their best and chiefest Excellency, is to be exempt from Smells: Nay, the sweetness even of the purest Breaths, has nothing in it of greater perfection, than to be without any offensive Smell, like those of healthful Children: which made Plautus say,

And such as make use of these exatick Per­fumes, are with good reason to be suspect­ed of some Natural Imperfection, which they endeavour by these Odours to con­ceal, according to that of Mr. Johnson, which, without offence to Monsieur de Montaigne, I will here presume to insert, it being at least as well said, as any of those he quotes out of the Ancient Poets,

As may be judg'd by these following,

[Page 611] And elsewhere,

I am nevertheless a strange lover of good Smells, and as much abominate the ill ones, which also I reach at a greater di­stance, I think, than other Men:

Of Smells, the simple and natural seem to be most pleasing. Let the Ladies look to that, for 'tis chiefly their concern. In the wildest parts of Barbary, the Scythian Wo­men, after Bathing, were wont to Powder and Crust their Faces, and whole Bodies, with a certain Odoriferous Drug, growing in their own Territories; which being cleans'd off, when they came to have familiarity with Men, they were found [Page 612] Perfum'd and Sleek: 'Tis not to be be­liev'd, how strangely all sorts of Odours cleave to me, and how apt my Skin is to imbibe them. He that complains of Na­ture, that she has not furnish'd Mankind with a Vehicle to convey Smells to the Nose, had no reason; for they will do it themselves; especially to me: My very Mustachio's perform that Office; for if I stroak them but with my Gloves, or Handkerchief, the Smell will not out a whole Day: They will Reproach me where I have been; the close, luscious, devouring and melting Kisses of Youthful Ardour, would in my Wanton Age have left a Sweetness upon my Lips for several Hours after. And yet I have ever found my self very little subject to Epidemick Diseases, that are caught, either by conversing with the Sick, or bred by the contagion of the Air; I have very well escap'd from those of my time, of which there has been seve­ral Virulent sorts in our Cities and Armies. We Read of Socrates, that though he never departed from Athens, during the frequent Plagues that infested that City, he only was never Infected. Physicians might (I believe,) if they would extract greater Utility from Odours, than they do; for I have often observ'd, that they cause an al­teration in me, and work upon my Spirits according to their several Vertues; which [Page 613] makes me approve of what is said, namely, that the use of Incence and Perfumes in Churches, so Ancient, and so universally receiv'd in all Nations, and Religions, was intended to chear us, and to rouse and pu­rifie the Senses, the better to fit us for Contemplation. I could have been glad, the better to judg of it, to have tasted the Culinary Art of those Cooks, who had so rare a way of Seasoning Exatick Odours with the relish of Meats; As it was par­ticularly observ'd in the Service of the King of Tunis, who in our Days Landed at Na­ples, to have an interview with Charles the Emperour, where his Dishes were far [...]'d with Odoriferous Drugs, to that degree of Expence, that the Cookery of one Pea­cock, and two Pheasants, amounted to a Hundred Duckets, to dress them after their Fashion. And when the Carver came to break them up, not only the Dining-room, but all the Appartments of his Pallace, and the adjoining Streets were fill'd with an Aromatick Vapour, which did not pre­sently vanish. My chiefest care in chusing my Lodgings, is always to avoid a thick and stinking Air; and those Beautiful Ci­ties of Venice and Paris, have very much lessen'd the Kindness I had for them, the one by the offensive Smell of her Marshes, and the other of her Dirt.

CHAP. LVI. Of Prayers.

I proprose formless and undermin'd Fan­cies, like those who publish subtle Que­stions, to be after disputed upon in the Schools, not to Establish truth, but to seek it: I submit them to the better Judg­ments of those, whose Office it is to regu­late, not my Writings and Actions only, but moreover my very Thoughts and Opi­nions. Let what I here set down meet with Correction or Applause, it shall be of equal welcome and utility to me, my self before hand condemning it for Absurd and Impious, if any thing shall be found through Ignorance or Inadvertency, couch'd in this Rhapsody contrary to the Resolutions and Prescriptions of the Roman Catholick Church, into which I was Born, and in which I will Die. And yet, always submitting to the Authority of their Cen­sure, who have an Absolute Power over me, I thus Timerariously venture at every thing, as upon this present Subject.

I know not, if, or no, I am deceiv'd; but since by a particular favour of the Di­vine [Page 615] Bounty, a certain Form of Prayer has been prescrib'd and dictated to us, Word by Word, from the Mouth of God him­self, I have ever been of Opinion, that we ought to have it in more frequent use, than we yet have, and if I were worthy to advise, at the sitting down to, and rising from our Tables, at our rising, and going to Bed, and in every particular Action, wherein Prayer is requir'd, I would that Christians always make use of the Lord's Prayer, if not alone, yet at least always. The Church may lengthen, or alter Prayers, according to the necessity of our Instructi­on, for I know very well, that it is always the same in substance, and the same thing: But yet such a preferrence ought to be gi­ven to that Prayer, that the People should have it continually in their Mouths; for it is most certain, that all necessary Petitions are comprehended in it, and that it is in­finitely proper for all Occasions. 'Tis the only Prayer I use in all Places and Condi­tions, and what I still repeat instead of changing; whence it also happens, that I have no other by Heart, but that only. It just now comes into my Mind, from whence we should derive that Errour of having recourse to God in all our Designs and Enterprizes, to call him to our Assi­stance in all sorts of Affairs, and in all Pla­ces where our Weakness stands in need of [Page 616] support, without considering whether the occasion be just, or otherwise, and to In­voke his Name and Power, in what E­state soever we are, or Action we are en­gag'd in, how Vicious soever: He is in­deed our sole and only Protector, and can do all things for us: But though he is pleas'd to Honour us with his Paternal Care, he is notwithstanding, as Just, as he is Good and Mighty, and does ofter exer­cise his Justice, than his Power, and fa­vours us according to that, and not ac­cording to our Petitions. Plato in his Laws, makes Three sorts of Belief Injuri­ous to the Gods; That there is none; That they concern not themselves about Humane Affairs; and that they never re­ject or deny any thing to our Vows, Of­ferings and Sacrifices. The first of these Errours (according to his Opinion,) did never continue rooted in any Man, from his Infancy to his Old Age, the other two he confesses, Men might be Obstinate in. God's Justice and his Power are insepara­ble, and therefore in vain we Invoke his Power in an Unjust Cause: We are to have our Souls pure and clean, at that Moment at least, wherein we Pray to him, and purified from all Vicious Passions, o­therwise we our selves present him the Rods wherewith to Chastise us. Instead of repairing any thing we have done amiss, [Page 617] we double the Wickedness and the Of­fence, whilst we offer to him, to whom we are to sue for Pardon, an Affection full of Irreverence and Hatred. Which makes me not very apt to applaud those whom I ob­serve to be so frequent on their Knees, if the Actions nearest of Kin to Prayer, do not give me some Evidence of Reforma­tion.

And the Practice of a Man, that mixes Devotion with an Execrable Life, seems in some sort more to be Condemn'd, than that of a Man conformable to his own Propension, and Dissolute throughout: And for that Reason, it is, that our Church denies Admittance to, and Communion with Men Obstinate and Incorrigible in any kind of Impiety. We Pray only by custom, and for fashions sake, or rather, we read and pronounce our Prayers aloud, which is no better than an Hypocritical shew of Devotion: And I am scandaliz'd, to see a Man Cross himself Thrice at the Benedicite, and as often, at anothers say­ing Grace, (and the more, because it is a [Page 618] Sign I have in great Veneration, and con­stant use upon solemn occasions,) and to Dedicate all the other Hours of the Day to Acts of Malice, Avarice and Injustice. One Hour to God, the rest to the Devil, as if by Commutation and Consent. 'Tis a wonder to me, Actions so various in themselves, succeed one another with such an Uniformity of Method, as not to in­terfer, nor suffer any alteration▪ even up­on the very Confines and Passes from the one to the other. What a Prodigious Conscience must that be, that can be at Quiet within it self, whilst it harbours un­der the same Roof, with so agreeing and so calm a Society, both the Crime and the Judg? A Man whose whole Meditation is continually working upon nothing but Impurity, which he knows to be so Odi­ous to Almighty God, what can he say, when he comes to speak to him? He Re­forms, but immediately falls into a Re­lapse. If the Object of the Divine Ju­stice, and the Presence of his Maker, did, as he pretends, Strike and Chastise his Soul, how short soever the Repentance might be, the very fear of offending that Infinite Majesty, would so often present it self to his Imagination, that he would soon see himself Master of those Vices, that are most Natural and Habitual in him. But what shall we say of those, who settle their [Page 619] whole course of Life, upon the Profit and Emolument of Sins, which they know to be Mortal? How many Trades and Vo­cations have we admitted and countenanc'd amongst us, whose very Essence is Vici­ous? And he that confessing himself to me, voluntarily told me, that he had all his Life time profest and practic'd a Religi­on, in his Opinion Damnable, and contra­ry to that he had in his Heart, only to preserve his Credit, and the Honour of his Employments, how could his Courage suffer so Infamous a Confession? What can Men say to the Divine Justice upon this subject? Their Repentance consisting in a visible and manifest Reformation and Re­stitution, they lose the colour of alledging it both to God and Man. Are they so Im­pudent, as to sue for Remission, without Satisfaction, and without Penitency, or Remorse? I look upon these as in the same condition with the first: But the Obstinacy is not there so easie to be over­come. This contrariety and volubility of Opinion, so sudden and violent as they pre­tend, is a kind of Miracle to me. They present us with the state of an indegestible Anxiety, and doubtfulness of Mind. It seem'd to me a Fantastick and Ridiculous Imagination in those, who these late Years past, were wont to Reproach every Man they knew to be of any extraordinary [Page 620] Parts, and made profession of the Roman Catholick Religion, that it was but outward­ly, maintaining moreover, to do him Ho­nour forsooth, that whatever he might pretend to the contrary, he could not but in his Heart, be of their Reform'd Opini­on. An untoward Disease, that a Man should be so Riveted to his own Belief, as to fancy, that others cannot believe other­wise, than as he does: And yet worse in this, that they should entertain so Vicious an Opinion of such parts, as to think any Man so Qualified, should prefer any pre­sent advantage of Fortune, before the pro­mises of Eternal Life, and the means of Eternal Damnation. They may believe me: Could any thing have tempted my Youth, the Ambition of the danger and difficulties in the late Commotions, had not been the least Motives.

It is not without very good Reason, in my Opinion, that the Church Interdicts the Promiscuous, Indiscreet and Irreverent use of the Holy and Divine Psalms, with which the Holy Ghost Inspir'd King Da­vid. We ought not to mix God in our Actions, but with the highest Reverence and Caution. That Poesie is too Sacred, to be put to no other use, than to exercise the Lungs, and to delight our Ears. It ought to come from the Soul, and not from the Tongue. It is not fit that a [Page 621] Prentice in his Shop, amongst his vain and frivolous Thoughts, should be permit­ted to pass away his time, and divert him­self, with such Sacred things. Neither is it decent to see the Holy Bible, the Rule of our Worship and Belief, tumbled up and down a Hall, or a Kitchin. They were formerly Mysteries, but are now become Sports and Recreations. 'Tis a Book too Serious, and too Venerable, to be cursori­ly or slightly turn'd over. The Reading of the Scripture ought to be a temperate and premeditated Act, and to which Men should always add this Devout Preface, Sursum Corda, preparing even the Body to so humble and compos'd a Gesture and Countenance, as shall evidence their Ve­neration and Attention. Neither is it a Book for every one to fist, but the Study of Select Men set apart for that purpose, and whom Almighty God has been pleas'd to call to that Office, and Sacred Functi­on: The Wicked and Ignorant, Blemish and Deprave it. 'Tis not a Story to tell, but a History to fear and adore. Are not they then pleasant Men, who think they have render'd this fit for the Peoples handling, by Translating it into the Vulgar Tongue? Does the Understanding of all therein con­tain'd, only stick at Words? Shall I ven­ture to say further, that by coming so near to understand a little, they are much wi­der [Page 622] of the whole scope than before. A to­tal Ignorance, and wholely depending up­on the Exposition of other Qualified Per­sons, was more knowing and salutiferous, than this vain and verbal knowledg, which has only prov'd the Nurse of Temerity and Presumption. And I do further believe, that the liberty every one has taken, to disperse the Sacred Writ into so many Idi­oms, carries with it a great deal more of Danger, than Utility. The Jews, Maho­metans, and almost all others, have Espous'd and Reverence the Language wherein their Laws and Mysteries were first con­ceiv'd, and have expresly, and not without colour of reason, forbid the version or al­teration of them, into any other. Are we assur'd, that in Biscay, and in Brittany, there are enow competent Judges of this affair, to Establish this Translation into their own Language? Why, the Univer­sal Church has not a more difficult and so­lemn Judgment to make. One of our Greek Historians does justly accuse the Age he Liv'd in, for that the Secrets of Chri­stian Religion were disperst into the Hands of every Mechanick, to Expound and Ar­gue upon, according to his own Fancy; and that we ought to be much asham'd, we who by God's especial favour, enjoy the purest Mysteries of Piety, to suffer them to be Prophan'd by the Ignorant Rabble; [Page 623] considering, that the Gentiles expressly for­bad Socrates, Plato, and the other Sages, to enquire into, or so much as to mention the things committed only to the Priests of Delphos; saying moreover, that the Factions of Princes, upon Theological ac­counts, are not Arm'd with Zeal, but Fu­ry; that Zeal springs from the Divine Wisdom and Justice, and governs it self with Prudence and Moderation; but de­generates into Hatred and Envy, pro­ducing Tares and Nettles, instead of Corn and Wine, when conducted by Humane Passions. And it was truly said of ano­ther, who advising the Emperour Theodo­sius, and told him, that Disputes did not so much Rock the Schisms of the Church a sleep, as it Rous'd and Animated Here­sies. That therefore all Contentions, and Logical Disputations, were to be avoided, and Men absolutely to Acquiess in the Pre­scriptions and Formulas of Faith, Establish'd by the Ancients. And the Emperour An­droricus having over-heard some great Men at high words in his Pallace with Lapodius, about a Point of ours of great Importance, gave them so severe a Check, as to threaten to cause them to be thrown into the River, if they did not desist. The very Women and Children now adays, take upon them to Document the Oldest and most Experienc'd Men about [Page 624] the Ecclesiastical Laws: Whereas the first of those of Plato, forbids them to enquire so much as into the Civil Laws; which were to stand instead of Divine Ordinan­ces. And allowing the Old Men to confer amongst themselves, or with the Magi­strate, about those things, he adds, pro­vided it be not in the presence of Young or Profane Persons. A Bishop has left in Writing, that at the other end of the World, there is an Isle, by the Ancients call'd Dioscorides, abundantly Fertile in all sorts of Trees and Fruits, and of an ex­ceeding Healthful Air: The Inhabitants of which are Christians, having Churches and Altars, only adorn'd with Crucifixes, without any other Images, great Observers of Fasts and Feasts: Exact payers of their Tyths to the Priests, and so Chast, that none of them is permitted to have to do with more than one Woman in his Life. As to the rest, so content with their con­dition, that environed with the Sea, they know nothing of Navigation, and so sim­ple, that they understand not one Syllable of the Religion they profess, and wherein they are so Devout. A thing incredible to such as do not know, that the Pagans, who are so Zealous Idolaters, know no­thing more of their Gods, than their bare Names and their Statues. The Ancient beginning of Menalippus, a Tragedy of Eu­ripedes, ran thus,

I have also known in my time some Men's Writings found fault with, for being pure­ly Humane and Philosophical, without any mixture of Divinity; and yet whoe­ver should on the contrary say, that Di­vine Doctrine, as Queen and Regent of the rest, better, and with greater Decen­cy, keeps her State apart: What, she ought to be Soveraign throughout, not Subsidiary and Suffragan: And that per­adventure, Grammatical, Rhetorical and Logical Examples, may elsewhere be more suitably chosen, as also the Argu­ments for the Stage, and Publick Enter­tainments, than from so Sacred a matter: That Divine Reasons are consider'd with greater Veneration and Attention, when by themselves, and in their own proper Stile, than when mixt with, and adapted to Humane Discourses. That it is a fault much more often observ'd, that the Di­vines Write too Humanely, than that the Humanists Write not Theologically e­nough: Philosophy, says St. Chrysostome, has long been Banish'd the Holy Schools, as an Hand-maid, altogether useless, and thought unworthy to peep, so much as in passing by the Door, into the Sacrifice of [Page 626] the Divine Doctrine. And that the Hu­mane way of speaking is of a much low­er form, and ought not to serve her self with the Dignity and Majesty of Divine Eloquence. I say, whoever on the con­trary should Object all this, would not be without reason on his side. Let who will Verbis Indisciplinatis, talk of Fortune, De­stiny, Accident, Good and Evil Hap, and other such like Phrases, according to his own Humour; I for my part, propose Fancies meerly Humane, and meerly my own, and that simply, as Humane Fancies, and separately consider'd, not as deter­min'd by any Arrest from Heaven; or in­capable of Doubt, or Dispute. Matter of Opinion, not matter of Faith. Things which I discourse of according to my own Capacity, not what I believe according to God; which also I do after a Laical, not Clerical, and yet always after a very Reli­gious manner. And it were as Rational to affirm, that an Edict, enjoining all People, but such as are Publick Professors of Divi­nity, to be very reserv'd in Writing of Re­ligion, would carry with it a very good colour of Utility and Justice, and me, a­mongst the rest, to hold my prating. I have been told, that even those who are not of our Church, do nevertheless a­mongst themselves, expressly forbid the Name of God to be us'd in common Dis­course: [Page 627] Not so much as by way of In­terjection, Exclamation, Assertion of a Truth, or Comparison, and I think them in the right. And upon what occasion so­ever we call upon God, to accompany and assist us, it ought always to be done with the greatest Reverence and Devotion. There is, as I remember, a passage in Xe­nophon, where he tells us, that we ought so much the more seldome to call upon God, by how much it is hard to compose our Souls to such a degree of Calmness, Penitency and Devotion, as it ought to be in at such time, otherwise our Prayers are not only vain and fruitless, but Vicious in themselves. Forgive us (we say) our Trespasses, as we forgive them that Trespass against us. What do we mean by this Pe­tition, but that we present him a Soul free from all Rancour and Revenge? And yet we make nothing of Imvoking God's As­sistance in our Vices, and inviting him in­to our unjust Designs.

The Covetous Man Prays for the conser­vation of his superfluous, and peradven­ture, ill got Riches; the Ambitious for [Page 628] Victory, and the Conduct of his Fortune; the Thief calls God to his Assistance, to deliver him from the Dangers and Difficul­ties that obstruct his Wicked Designs: Or returns him thanks for the Facility he has met with in Robbing a poor Peasant. At the Door of the House they are going to Storm, or break into by force of a Pe­tarre, they fall to Prayers for success, ha­ving their Instruction and Hopes full of Cruelty, Avarice and Lust.

Marguarette Queen of Navarre, tells of a Young Prince, (whom though she does not name, is easily enough by his great Quali­ty to be known,) who going upon an A­morous Assignation to Lie with an Advo­cates Wife of Paris, his way thither being through a Church, he never pass'd that Holy place, going to, or returning from, this Godly Exercise, but he always Kneel'd [Page 629] down to Pray; wherein he would employ the Divine Favour, his Soul being full of such Vertuous Meditations, I leave others to judg, which nevertheless she instances, for a Testimony of singular Devotion. But it is by this proof only, that a Man may conclude▪ no Man not very fit to treat of Theological Affairs. A true Prayer, and Religious reconciling of our selves to Almighty God, cannot enter in­to an impure Soul, and at the very instant subjected to the very Dominion of Satan. He who calls God to his Assistance, whilst in a Habit of Vice, does, as if a Cut-purse should call a Magistrate to help him, or like those who introduce the Name of God to the Attestation of a Lie.

There are few Men who durst Publish to the World the Prayers they make to Al­mighty God.

And [...]h [...]s is the reason why the Pythagore­ans would have them always Publick, to be heard by every one, to the end they might not prefer indecent or unjust Petiti­ons, as he did, who having

The God did severely punish the Wicked Prayers of Oedipus, in granting them: He had Pray'd, that his Children might a­mongst themselves Determine the Succes­sion [Page 631] to his Throne by Arms; and was so miserable, as to see himself taken at his word. We are not to Pray, that all things may go as we would have them, but as is most conducing to the good of the World; and we are not in our Prayers to Obey our Wills, but Prudence. We seem, in truth, to make use of our Prayers, as of a kind of Gibberish, and as those do who employ Holy Words about Sorceries and Magical Operations: And as if we made account, the benefit we are to reap from them, depended upon the contexture, sound and gingle of Words, or upon the composing of the Countenance. For ha­ving the Soul contaminated with Concu­piscence, not touch'd with Repentance, or comforted by any late Reconciliation with Almighty God, we go to present him such Words as the Memory suggests to the Tongue, and hope from thence to obtain the Remission of our Sins. There is no­thing so easie, so sweet, and so favourable, as the Divine Law: She calls and invites us to her, Guilty and Abominable as we are: Extends her Arms, and receives us into her Bosome, as foul and polluted as we at present are, and are for the future to be. But then in return, we are to look upon her with a respective, and a graceful Eye, we are to receive this Pardon with all imaginable gratitude and submission, [Page 632] and, for that instant at least, wherein we Address our selves to her, to have the Soul sensible of the ills we have committed, and at defiance with those Passions, that seduc'd her to offend, for neither the Gods, nor Good Men, (says Plato,) will accept the present of a Wicked Man.

CHAP. LVII. Of Age.

I Cannot allow of the proportion we set­tle upon our selves, and the space we allot to the duration of Life. I see that the Wise contract it very much, in com­parison of the common Opinion. What (said the Younger Cato to those who would stay his Hand from Killing himself,) am I now of an Age to be Reproach'd, that I go out of the World too soon? And yet he was but Eight and Forty Years Old. He thought that to be a mature and competent Age, considering how few arrive unto it, and such, as soothing their Thoughts with I know not what course of Nature, promise to themselves some Years beyond it, could they be privi­ledg'd from the infinite number of Acci­dents, to which we are by a natural sub­jection expos'd, might have some Reason so to do. What an Idle Conceit it is, to expect to Die of a decay of Strength, which is the last of effects of the extream­est Age, and to propose to our selves no [Page 634] shorter lease of Life than that, considering it is a kind of Death of all others the most rare, and very hardly seen? We call that only a Natural Death, as if it were contrary to Nature, to see a Man break his Neck with a Fall, be Drown'd in Ship­wrack at Sea; or snatch'd away with a Plurisie, or the Plague, and, as if our ordinary condition of Life did not expose us to these Inconveniences. Let us no more flatter our selves with these fine sounding Words: We ought rather, at a venture, to call that Natural, which is Common and Universal. To Die of Old Age, is a Death rare, extraordinary and singular, and therefore so much less Natu­ral, than the others: 'Tis the last and ex­treamest sort of Dying: And the more remote, the less to be hop'd for. It is in­deed the Boundary of Life, beyond which we are not to pass: Which the Law of Nature has pitch'd for a Limit, not to be exceeded: But it is withal a Priviledg she is rarely seen to give us to last till then. 'Tis a Lease she only Signs by particular sa­vour, and it may be, to one only, in the space of two or three Ages; and then with a Pass to boot, to carry him through all the Traverses and Difficulties she has strew'd in the way of this long Carreer. And therefore my Opinion is, that when [Page 635] once Forty Years Old, we should consider it is as an Age to which very few arrive: For seeing that Men do not usually pro­ceed so far, it is a sign that we are pretty well advanc'd, and since we have exceeded the ordinary Bounds, which make the just measure of Life, we ought not to expect to go much further; having escap'd so many Precipices of Death, whereinto we have seen so many other Men to fall, we should acknowledg, that so extraordinary a Fortune, as that which has hitherto rescu'd us from those Eminent Perils, and kept us alive beyond the ordinary term of Living, is not likely to continue long. 'Tis a fault in our very Laws, to maintain this Errour, That a Man is not capable of managing his own Estate, till he be Five and Twenty Years Old, whereas he will have much ado to manage his Life so long. Augustus cut off Five Years from the An­cient Roman Standard, and declar'd, that Thirty Years Old was sufficient for a Judg. Survius Tullius superceded the Knights of above Seven and Forty Years of Age, from the Fatigues of War: Au­gustus dismiss'd them at Forty Five: Though methinks it seems a little un­likely, that Men should be sent to the Fire-side, till Five and Fifty, or Sixty Years of Age. I should be of Opinion, that both our Vacancy and Employment, [Page 636] should be as far as possible extended for the Publick Good: But I find the fault on the other side, that they do not employ us Early enough. This Emperour was Arbiter of the whole World at Nineteen, and yet would have a Man to be Thirty, before he could be fit to bear Office in the Common-wealth. For my part I believe, our Souls are Adult at Twenty, such as they are ever like to be, and as capable then as ever. A Soul that has not by that time given evident earnest of its Force and Vertue, will never after come to proof. Na­tural Parts and Excellencies produce, that they have of Vigorous and Fine, within that Term, or never.

Of all the great Humane Actions I ever Heard, or Read of, of what sort soever, I have Observ'd, both in former Ages, and our own, more perform'd before the Age of Thirty, than after: And oft-times in the very Lives of the same Men. May I not confidently instance in those of Han­nibal, and his great concurrent Scipio? The better half of their Lives, they Liv'd upon the Glory they had Acquir'd in their Youth; great Men after, 'tis true, in comparison of others; but by no means, in comparison of themselves. As to my own particular, I do certainly be­lieve, that since that Age, both my Un­derstanding, and my Constitution, have [Page 637] rather decay'd, than improv'd, and re­tir'd, rather than advanc'd. 'Tis possible, that with those who make the best use of their Time, Knowledg and Experience may grow up and encrease with their Years; but the Vivacity, Quickness and Steadiness, and other peices of us, of much greater Importance, and much more Essentially our own, Languish and De­cay.

Sometimes the Body first submits to Age, sometimes the Soul, and I have seen e­now, who have got a Weakness in their Brains, before either in their Hams, or Stomach: And by how much the more, it is a Disease of no great pain to the in­fected Party, and of obscure Symptoms, so much greater the danger is. And for this reason it is, that I complain of our [Page 638] Laws, not that they keep us too long to our Work, but that they set us to work too late. For the Frailty of Life consi­der'd, and to how many Natural and Ac­cidental Rubs it is Obnoxious and Expos'd: Birth, though Noble, ought not to share so large a Vacancy, and so tedious a course of Education.

CHAP. I. Of the Inconstancy of our Actions.

SUch, as make it their business to con­troul humane Actions, do not find themselves in any thing so much per­plext, as to reconcile them, and bring them into the Worlds eye with the same Lustre and Reputation; for they do com­monly so strangely contradict one another, that it seems impossible they should proceed [Page 2] from one and the same Person. We find the younger Marius one while a Son of Mars, and another the Son of Venus. Pope Boniface the Eighth entred (says one) into his Papacy like a Fox, behaved himself in it like a Lyon, and died like a Dog. And who could believe it to be the same Nero, the perfect Image of all Cruelty, who, having the Sentence of a con­demned man brought to him to Sign, cried out, O, that I had never been taught to Write. So much it went to his heart to condemn a man to Death. All Story is full of such Ex­amples, and every man is able to produce so many to himself, or out of his own practice, or observation,Irresoluti­on the most common Vice of our Nature. that I sometimes wonder to see men of understanding give themselves the trouble of sorting these pieces, considering that irresolution appears to me to be the most com­mon and manifest Vice of our Nature; Wit­ness the famous Verse of the Player Publius,

There is some possibility of forming a judg­ment of a man from the most usual methods of his life;Instability of our manners and opini­ons. but, considering the natural Insta­bility of our manners and opinions, I have of­ten thought even the best Authors a little out, in so obstinately endeavouring to make of us any constant and solid Contexture. They chuse a general Air of a man, and according [Page 3] to that interpret all his Actions, of which, if some be so stiff and stubborn, that they can­not bend or writh them to any uniformity with the rest, they are presently imputed to dissimulation. Augustus has escapt them,Augustus. for there was in him so apparent, sudden, and con­tinual variety of Actions, all the whole course of his life, that he is slipt away clear and un­decided from the most hardy Censurers. I am more hardly induc't to believe a man's Con­stancy than any other Virtue, and believe no­thing sooner than the contrary. It is a hard matter, out of all Antiquity, to pick out a dozen men, who have form'd their lives to one certain and constant course, which is the principal design of Wisdom: For to comprize it all in one word, (says one of the Antients) and to contract all the Rules of humane life into one, it is to Will, and not to Will always one and the same thing: I will not vouchsafe, says he to add, provided the Will be just, for if it be not just, it is impossible it should be al­ways one. I have indeed formerly learnt, That Vice is nothing but Irregularity and want of measure, and therefore 'tis impossible to fix constancy to it. 'Tis a saying of Demosthenes, That the beginning of all virtue is consulta­tion and deliberation, the end and perfection, constancy. If we would resolve on any cer­tain course upon mature advice, we should pitch upon the best, but no body has thought on't.

Our ordinary practice is, to follow the incli­nations of our appetite, be it to the left or right, upwards or downwards, according as we are wafted by the breath of occasion. We never meditate what we would have, till the instant we have a mind to have it; and change like that little Creature, that receives its colour from what it is laid upon. What we but just now propose to our selves, we immediately alter, and presently return again to the first; 'tis nothing but shifting, and inconstancy:

We do not go, we are driven; like things that float, now leisurely, then with violence, according to the gentleness, or rapidity of the Current.

Every day a new whimsie, and our humours keep motion with the time.

We fluctuate betwixt various inclinations; we Will nothing freely, nothing absolutely, no­thing constantly. In any one, that had pre­scrib'd and establisht determinate Laws and Rules in his head for his own conduct, we should perceive an equality of manners, an order, and an infallible relation of one thing, or action, to another, shine through his whole life, (Em­pedocles observ'd this discrepancy in the Agre­gentines, that they gave themselves up to de­lights, as if every day was their last, and built, as if they had been to live for ever) and the judgment would not be hard to make. As is [Page 6] very evident in the person of the younger Ca­to, who has found one step, it will lead him to all the rest: 'tis a harmony of very according sounds, that cannot jar, nor deceive the ear. But with us 'tis quite contrary, every particu­lar Action requires a particular Judgment, wherein the surest way to steer, in my opi­nion, would be to take our measures from the nearest ally'd Circumstances, without enga­ging in a longer inquisition, or without con­cluding any other consequence. I was told, du­ring the civil disorders of our poor Kingdom, that a Maid, hard by the place where I then was, had thrown her self out of a window, to avoid being forc't by a common Soldier, that was quartered in the house: She was not kill'd by the fall, and therefore redoubling her at­tempt, would have cut her own Throat, had she not been prevented; but having never­theless wounded her self to some shew of dan­ger, she voluntarily confest, that the Soldier had not as yet importun'd her otherwise than by Courtship,A Maid threw her self out of a window for fear of a Rape. earnest Solicitation, and such little Presents as he was able to procure; but that she was afraid, that in the end he would have proceeded to violence, all which she de­livered with such a countenance and accent, and withal embrew'd in her own blood, the highest Testimony of her virtue, that she ap­pear'd another Lucretia; and yet I have since been very well assur'd, that, both before and after, she was not so difficult a piece. And, according to my Hosts tale in Ariosto, be as [Page 7] handsom a man, and as fine a Gentleman as you will, do not conclude too much upon your Mistresses inviolable Chastity, for having been repulst; you do not know but she may have a better stomack to your Muletteer.

Antigonus, having taken one of his Soldiers into a great degree of favour and esteem, for his Virtue and Valour, gave his Physicians strict charge to cure him of a long and inward disease under which he had a great while lan­guisht; and observing that after his Cure, he went much more coldly to work than before, he askt the Fellow, Who had so alter'd, and cow'd him. Your self (Sir) reply'd the o­ther, by having eas'd me of the pains that made me weary of my life. Lucullus his Sol­dier, having been rifled by the Enemy, per­form'd upon them in revenge a brave Exploit, by which having made himself at least a Saver, Lucullus, who had conceived a good opinion of him, from that action, went about to engage him in some enterprize of very great danger, with all the plausible persuasions and promises he could think of,

[Page 8] Pray employ, answered he, some miserable plun­dered Souldier in that affair,

and flatly refused to go. When we read, that Mahomet having furiously rated Chasan, Bassa of the Janizaries, who seeing the Hun­garians break into his Squadrons, had behav'd himself very ill in the business, and that Cha­san in stead of any other answer, rush'd furi­ously alone with his Cimitar in his hand into the first Body of the Enemy, where he was presently cut to pieces: We are not to look upon that action peradventure, so much de­signed to vindicate himself from the reproach of Cowardize as an effect of recollection, nor so much proceeding from natural Valour as a sudden Despite. The Man you saw yester­day so adventurous and brave, you must not think it strange to see him as great a Poltron the next: Anger, Necessity, Company, Wine or the sound of the Trumpet, had rous'd his Spirits; this is no Valour form'd, and Esta­blished by Meditation; but accidentally created by those circumstances, and therefore it is no wonder, if by contrary circumstances it ap­quipear te another thing.

[Page 9]These supple variations, and contradictions so manifest in us, have given Some occasion to believe, that Man has two Souls; Others, two distinct Powers, that always accompany and encline us, the one towards Good, and the other towards Ill according to their own Na­tures, and Propensions▪ so sudden a variety of inclination not being to be imagined to to flow from one and the same Fountain. For my part I must ingeniously declare, that the puff of every accident not only carries me a long with it, according to its own pro­clivity, but that moreover I discompose, and trouble my self, by the instability of my own posture; and whoever will look narrowly into his own Bosom, will hardly find himself twice in the same Condition. I give my Soul some­times one face, and sometimes another, ac­cording to the side I turn her to. If I speak variously of my self, it is, because I consider my self variously. All contrarieties are there to be found, in one corner or another, or after one manner or another. Bashful, Insolent, Chast, Lustful, Prating, Silent, Laborious, Delicate, Ingenious, Heavy, Melancholick, Pleasant, Lying, True, Knowing, Ignorant, Liberal, Covetous, and Prodigal, I find all this in my self, more or less, according as I turn my self about; and whoever will sift himself, to the bottom, will find in himself, even by his own Judgment this volubility and discordance. In a word, I have nothing to say of my self entirely, simply, and solidly [Page 10] without mixture, and confusion. Distinguo is the most universal Member of my Logick. Though I always intend to speak well of good things, and rather to interpret such things, as may fall out, in the best sence, than other­wise: Yet such is the strangeness of our con­dition, that we are sometimes push't on to do well even by Vice it self, if well doing were not judged by the intention only. One gallant Action there­fore ought not to conclude a man Valiant; if a man was brave indeed, he would be always so, and upon all occasions. If it were a Habit of Ver­tue, and not a Sally, it would render a man equally resolute in all Accidents; the same Alone, as in Company; the same in Lists, as in a Bat­tel; for, let them say what they will, there is not one Valour for the Pavement, and another for the Feild. He would bear a Sickness in his Bed, as bravely as a Wound in the Field, and no more fear Death in his own house, than at an assault. We should not then see the same man charge into a Breach with a brave assurance, and afterwards torment himself, and pule like a Woman for the loss of a tryal at Law, or the death of a Child. When being a detected Coward to infamy, he is constant in the ne­cessities of Poverty and Want; when he starts at the sight of a Barbers Razor, and rushes fearless into the Swords of the Enemy, the Action is commendable, not the Man.

Many of the Greeks, says Cicero, cannot endure the sight of an Enemy,Cicero. Tusc. 2. and yet are courageous in Sickness; the Cimbrians, and [Page 11] Celtiberians quite contrary. Nihil enim potest esse aequabile, quod non à certâ ratione proficisca­tur. Nothing can be equal, that does not pro­ceed from a certain ground of reason.The Valour of Alexan­der ex­tream in its kind. No Valour can be more extream in its kind, than that of Alexander: But it is but one kind; nor full enough throughout. As peerless as it is, it has yet some blemishes. Of which, his being so often at his wits end, upon every light suspi­tion of his Captains conspiring against his life, and the carrying himself in that Inquisition with so much vehemency and injustice, and a fear that subverted his natural reason, is one pregnant instance; the Superstition also, with which he was so much tainted, carries along with it some Image of Pusillanimity. And the excess of his Penitency, for the Murther of Cly­tus, is also a Testimony of the unevenness of his Courage. All we perform is no other than a Cento, as a man may say, of several peices, and yet we would acquire Honor by a false title. Vertue cannot be followed, but for her self, and if one sometimes borrow her Mask for some other occasion, she presently pulls it away again. 'Tis a stamp and lively tincture, which when the soul has once thorowly imbibed, it will not out, but with the piece. And there­fore to make a right judgment of a man, we are long, and very observingly, to follow his trace: If constancy does not there stand firm upon her own proper Base, Cui vivendi via considerata, atque provisa est, Cicer. if the variety of occurrences makes him to alter his pace (his [Page 12] path I mean, for the pace may be faster or slower) let him go, such a one runs before the wind. 'Tis no wonder, says one of the Anci­ents, that chance has so great a dominion over us, since it is by chance we live. It is not pos­sible for any one, who has not design'd his life for some certain end, to dispose his particular actions. It is impossible for any one to fit the peices together, who has not the whole form already contrived in his imagination. To what use are colours to him, or to what end should he provide them, that knows not what he is to paint? No one lays down a certain design for his life, and we only deliberate by pieces. The Archer ought first to know at what he is to aime, and then accommodate his Arm, Bow, String, Shaft, and Motion to it. Our Counsel deviates and wanders, because not levelled to any determinate end. No wind serves him, who addresses his Voyage to no certain Port. I cannot acquiesce in the judgment given by one, in the behalf of Sophocles; who concluded him capable of the management of Domestick af­fairs, against the accusation of his son, for having seen one of his Tragedies.

Neither doe I allow of the conjecture of the Parians, sent to regulate the Milesians, suffici­ent for such a consequence, as they from thence derived. Coming to visit the Island, they took notice of such grounds as were best husbanded, and such Country-houses as were best govern­ed; and having taken the names of the ow­ners, when they had assembled the Citizens, [Page 13] they appointed those Farmers for new Gover­nors, and Magistrates; concluding, that they, who had been so provident in their own pri­vate concerns, would be so of the publick too. We are all inform lumps, and of so various a contexture, that every piece plays every mo­ment its own game, and there is as much diffe­rence betwixt us and our selves, as betwixt us and others. Magnam rem puta, Sen. Epist. 120. unum homi­nem agere. Since ambition can teach men Va­lour, Temperance, and Liberality, and even Justice too; seeing that Avarice can inspire the courage of a Shop-boy, bred and nurst up in obcurity and ease, with the assurance to expose himself so far from the Fire-side, to the mercy of the Waves in a frail Boat, that she does farther teach Discretion and Prudence: And that even Venus can inflate Boys under the discipline of the Rod with boldness, and re­solution, and infuse masculine courage into the Heart of tender Virgins in their Mothers arms:

'Tis not all the understanding has to doe, sim­ply to judge us by our outward Actions, it must penetrate the very Soul, and there discover by what springs the motion is guided: But that [Page 14] being a high and hazardous undertaking, I could wish that fewer would attempt it.

CHAP. II. Of Drunkenness.

THe World is nothing but Variety, and Disproportion, Vices are all alike, as they are Vices, and peradventure the Stoicks understand them so, but although they are e­qually Vices, yet they are not equal Vices: And that he who has transgrest the ordinary bounds a hundred paces, should not be in a worse con­dition, than he that has advanced but ten, is not to be beleived; or that Sacrilege is not worse than stealing a Cabbadge,

There is in this as great diversity, as in any thing whatever: The confounding of the or­der and measure of Sins is dangerous: Mur­therers, Traytors, and Tyrants are therein so very deep concerned, that it is not reasonable [Page 15] they should flatter their Consciences, because such another is Idle, Lascivious, or less assidu­ous at his Devotion: Every one lays weight upon the Sin of his Companions, but lightens his own. Our very Instructors themselves ranck them sometimes, in my opinion, very ill. As Socrates, who said, that the principal office of Wisdom was, to distinguish Goods and Evils. We, whose best faculties are always vitious, ought also to say of Knowledge, that it is to distinguish betwixt Vice and Vice, with­out which, and that very exactly performed, Vertuous and Wicked will remain confounded and unknown. Now, amongst the rest, Drunk­enness seemes, to me, to be a gross and brutish Vice. The Soul has the greatest interest in all the rest, and there are some Vices, that have something, if a man may so say, of generous in them. There are Vices, wherein there is a mixture of Knowledge, Diligence, Valour, Pru­dence, Dexterity, and Cunning:The Ger­mans great Drinkers. This is to­tally Corporeal and Earthly, and the thickest sculled Nation this day in Europe, is that, where it is the most in fashion. Other Vices discompose the understanding, this totally overthrows it, and renders the body stupid.

The worst estate of man is that, wherein he loses the knowledge and government of him­self. And 'tis said, amongst other things, upon that subject, that, as the Must, fermenting in a Vessel, works up to the top whatever it has in the bottom: So the old Wine, in those who have drank beyond their measure, vents the most inward Secrets,

Josephus tells us, that, by giving an Ambassador, the Enemy had sent to him, his full dose of Li­quor, he worm'd out his secrets. And yet Au­gustus, commiting the most inward secrets of his affairs to Lucius Piso, who conquered Thrace, [Page 17] never found him faulty in the least, no more than Tiberius did Cossus, with whom he intrusted his whole Counsels, though we know they were both so given to Drink, that they have often been fain to carry both the one and the other Drunk out of the Senate.

And the design of Killing Caesar was as safely communicated to Cimber, though he would sometimes be Drunk, as to Cassius who Drunk nothing but Water. We see our Germans, when Drunk as the Devil, can know their Poste, re­member the Word, and perform their Duty.

I could not have beleiv'd there had been so pro­found, senceless, and dead a degree of Drunk­enness, had I not read in History, that Al­talus, having, to put a notable affront upon him, invited to Supper the same Pausanias, who upon the very same occasion afterwards killed Philip of Macedon, (a King who by these ex­cellent Qualities gave sufficient Testimony of [Page 18] his Education in the house, and company of Epaminondas) he made him Drink to such a pitch, that he could after dispose of his Beauty, as of a Hedg-whore, to the Muletteers and Servants of the basest Office in the house. And I been further told, by a Lady whom I highly Honor and Esteem, that near Bourdeaux, and about Castres where she lives, a Country-woman, a Widow of chast repute, perceiving in her self the first symptoms of Breeding, innocently told her Neighbours, that if she had a Husband she should think her self with child: But the cau­ses of suspition every day more and more en­creasing, and at last growing up to a manifest proof; the poor Woman was reduc'd to the necessity of causing it to be Proclaimed at the Prosne of her Parish-Church; that whoever had done that deed, and would frankly confess it, she did not only promise to Forgive, but moreover to Marry him, if he lik'd of the motion. Whereupon a young fellow that ser­ved in the quality of a Labourer, encouraged by this Proclamation, declared; that he had one Holy-day found her, having taken too much of the Bottle, so fast a sleep in the Chim­ney, and in so undecent a posture, that he might conveniently come to doe his business without waking her; and they yet live toge­ther Man and Wife. It is true, that Antiquity has not much decry'd this Vice: The Writings of several Philosophers speak very tenderly of it, and even amongst the Stoicks there are some, who advise to give themselves sometimes the [Page 19] liberty to Drink to a debauch, to recreate and refresh the Soul.

That Censor, and Reprover of others, Cato was reproach'd that he was a Good-fellow.

Cyrus that worthy renowned King, amongst his other qualities, by which he pretended to be preferred before his Brother Artaxerxes, urged this excellency, that he could Drink a great deal more than he. And in the best governed Na­tions, this trial of skill in Drinking is very much in use. I have heard Silvius, an excellent Physitian of Paris, say, that lest the digestive faculties of the Stomach should grow idle,Drinking to a de­bauch in Vse a­mongst the best gover­ned Nati­ons. it were not amiss once a month to rouse them by this excess, and to spur them, lest they should grow dull and resty; and one Author tells us, that the Persians used to consult about their most important Affairs, after being well [Page 20] warmed with Wine. My taste and constituti­on are greater Enemies to this Vice than I am, for besides that I easily submit my belief to the Authority of antient opinions: I look upon it indeed as a stupid and ungraceful Vice, but less malicious and hurtful than the others, which almost all more directly justle publick Society. And if we cannot please our selves, but it must cost us something, as they hold; I find this Vice costs a mans conscience less than the others, be­sides that it is of no difficult preparation; nor what we look for hard to be found, a conside­ration not altogether to be despised. A man well advanc'd both in Dignity and Age, amongst three principal Commodities, that he said re­mained to him of life, reckoned to me this for one, and where would a man more justly find it,Delicacy to be avoi­ded in Wine. than amongst the natural conveniences? But he did not take it right, for delicacy and the curious choice of Wines, is therein to be avoy­ded. If you found your pleasure upon Drink­ing of the best, you condemn your self to the penance of Drinking of the worst. Your taste must be more indifferent and free. So delicate a Palate is not required to make a good Toper. The Germans Drink almost indifferently of all Wines and Liquors with delight, their busi­ness is to power down, and not to taste; and it's so much the better for them, their pleasure is so much the more constant, and nearer at hand. Now on the other side, not to Drink (after the French fashion) but at meals, and then very moderately too, is to be ingrate to [Page 21] this bountiful God of Wine. There is more time and constancy required than so. The An­tients spent whole nights in this exercise, and oft-times added the day following to eke it out, and therefore we are to take greater liber­ty than so, and stick closer to our work. I have seen a great Lord of my time, a man of high enterprise and famous success, that without set­ting himself to't, and after his ordinary rate of Drinking at meals, Drank not much less than five quarts of Wine, and at his going away appeared but too wise and discreet, to the detri­ment of our affairs. The pleasure we design the greatest esteem for the whole course of our lives, ought to have a greater share of our time dedicated to it. We should like Shop-boys and Labourers, refuse no occasion nor omit no oppor­tunity of Drinking, and always have it in our minds. But methinks we every day abridg and curtail the use of Wine; and the Break-fast Drinking and Collations, I used to see in my Fathers house, when I was a Boy, were more usual and frequent then, than now.

Is it that we pretended to a Reformation? Truly no. But it may be we are more addicted to Venus, than our Fathers were. They are two exercises that thwart and hinder one another in their vigour. Letchery has weakned our Sto­mach on the one side, and on the other Sobrie­ty renders us more spruce and amorous for the exercise of Love. 'Tis not to be imagined what strange Stories I have heard my Father tell, of the Chastity of that Age wherein he lived. It [Page 22] was for him to say it, being both by Art and Nature cut out,A Cha­racter of the Au­thors Fa­ther. and finish'd for the service of Ladies. He spoke well, and little; ever mix­ing his Language with some Illustration out of vulgar Authors, especially Spanish, and, amongst them, Ma [...]cus Aurelius was very frequent in his mouth. His behaviour was grave, humble, and modest; He was very solicitous of neatness and decency both in his Person and Cloaths, whe­ther on Horseback, or a Foot: He was exceed­ing punctual of his Word; and of a Conscience, and Religion generally tending rather towards Superstition than otherwise. For a Man of lit­tle Stature, very Strong, well Proportion'd, and well Knit, of a pleasing Countenance en­clining to Brown, and very Adroit in all no­ble Exercises. I have yet in the House to be seen Canes powr'd full of Lead, with which, they say, he exercis'd his Arms, for throwing the Bar, or the Stone; and Shoes with Leaden Soals, to make him after lighter for Running, or Leaping. Of his Vaulting he has left little Miracles behind him: I have seen him, when past three-score, laugh at our Exercises, and throw himself in his Furr'd Gown into the Sad­dle, make the Tour of a Table upon his Thumbs, and scarce ever mount the Stairs in­to his Chamber without taking three or four steps at a time. But upon what I was speaking before, he said, there was scarce one Woman of Quality of ill Fame in a whole Province. Would tell of strange Privacies, and some of them his own, with Vertuous Women, with­out [Page 23] any manner of suspition:Marvellous Chastity of the Age wherein the Au­thors Fa­ther lived. And for his own part, solemnly swore he was a Virgin at his Marriage; and yet it was after a long practice of Arms beyond the Mountains; of which War he has left us a Paper-Journal under his own hand, wherein he has given a precise account from point to point of all passages both relat­ing to the Publick, and to Himself. And was al­so Married at a well advanc't Maturity in the year 1528, the three and thirtieth year of his Age, upon his way home from Italy. But let us turn to our Battel.

The incommodities of old Age, that stand in need of some refreshment and support, might with reason beget in me a desire of this faculty, it being as were the last pleasure the course of years deprives us of. The natural heat, (say the Good-fellows,) first seats itself in the Feet, that concerns Infancy, thence it mounts into the middle Region, where it makes a long aboad, and produces in my opinion the sole true pleasure of humane life; all other pleasures, in comparison, sleep. Toward the end, like a vapour that still mounts upward, it arrives at the Throat, where it makes its final residence, and concludes the progress. I cannot neverthe­less understand, how a man can extend the pleasure of drinking beyond Thirst, and to forge in his imagination an Appetite artificial, and against Nature. My Stomach would not proceed so far, it has enough to do to deal with what it takes in for necessity. My con­stitution, is, not to care to Drink, but as it [Page 24] follows Eating, and to wash down my Meat, and for that reason my last Draught is always the greatest: And seeing that in old Age we have our Palats furr'd with Phlegmes, or deprav'd by some other ill constitution, the Wine tasts better to us, as the Pores are clean­er wash't, and laid more open. At least I sel­dome tast the first Glass well. Anacharsis won­der'd, that the Greeks drunk in greater Glasses towards the end of a meale, than at the begin­ning; which was I suppose for the same reason, the Dutch do the same, who then begin the Battel. Plato forbids Children Wine, till eigh­teen years of Age, and being drunk, till forty; but after forty gives them leave to please them­selves, and to mix a little liberally, in their Feasts, the influence of Dionysius, One of the names of Bacchus. that good Deity who restores young men their good humour, and old men their youth, who mollifies the pas­sions of the Soul, as Iron is softned by Fire; and in his Laws allows such merry meetings, (provided they have a discreet Cheif to go­vern, and keep them in order) for good and of great utility: Drunkenness being a true and cer­tain tryal of every ones Nature, and withal fit to inspire old Men with Mettle to divert themselves in Dancing, and Musick; things of great use, and that they dare not attempt when sober. He moreover says, that Wine is able to supply the Soul with Temperance, and the Body with Health; nevertheless these Re­strictions, in part borrowed from the Carthagi­nians, please him: That they forbear excesses in [Page 25] the Expeditions of War; that every Judge and Magistrate abstain from it, when about the Ad­ministrations of his place, or the Consultations of the Publick affairs: That the day is not to be embeazled with it, that being a time due to other employments, nor that night he intends to get Children. 'Tis said, that the Philosopher Stilpo, when opprest with Age, purposely hast­ned his End by drinking pure Wine. The same thing, but not design'd by him, dispatcht also the Philosopher Arcesilaus. But 'tis an old, and pleasant Question, Whether the Soul of a wise Man can be overcome by the strength of Wine,