IS it possible, Hesychius, that neither point of Ho­nour, nor the considera­tion of Profit, nor the respect of Pleasure, which are things that are so advanta­gious in the Charges and divers Employments of a Civil life, are [Page 2]capable to divert you from this sluggish idleness, and make you quit a course of life so retired and private, that I question whe­ther you ought to be put in the number of the Living; your house serving already as a Sepul­ture, before which I never pass, but I have a strong impulse in me to set upon it this Inscri­ption:

Much what the same that Seneca said always as he went to Cumes, Vates hic situs est Sen. E­pist. 55., before the house of a man who lived much after the dull rate as you do. This is meerly to be drunk with a Liquor which ought not to be [Page 3]taken, but with the greatest so­briety. Philosophy is a sweet and pleasant Honey, but it ought onely to be tasted with the tip of the finger; otherwise it will make your head disordered, and give you very dangerous Verti­goes. Cato had great reason, when he said to his Son, spea­king of the Philosophers of his time, under the name of the Greeks, who were then the Pro­fessors of it, Satis est ingenia Graecorum in­spicere, Plin. l. 24. c. 1. non perdiscere: Prophecying to him great dis­graces, if they would penetrate and search too far into them; Quandocunque ista Gens, suas literas dabit omnia corrumpet, hoc puta vatem dixisse. 'Twas upon this consideration, that [Page 4]the Romans burnt the Books of Numa, and afterwards several times drove the Philosophers out of their Cities, after the exam­ple of the most sage Republicks of Greece, who have so often persecuted them. This Attra­ctive Philosophy, which they taught the world, may well be compared to the fabulous Scylla that our Poets describe to us.

There is nothing more charming at first sight; they are onely the Discourses of Humane. Fe­licity; [Page 5]and all those Treatises are as so many ways that con­duct you to it: but if once you come too close, and would be searching into the most secret Mysteries, you will finde your self straight in a gulf and preci­pice, in the midst of its absurd Questions and its extravagant Maximes; which, like wilde beasts, will afflict your mind, and persecute it on every side. There­fore it is not with­out reason that Philo­stratus represents to us the Soul of Palamedes, De vita A­poll. l. 3. c. 6. an ab­stracted Philosopher, as you may be; which being transmitted into another body, is so inraged against, and wishes so great an evil to Philosophy, as to that which had never been of any [Page 6]service to him, and which with all his Learning that he had also increased, had not the power to keep him from falling under the good conduct of Ʋlysses, his E­nemie, a Patron of humane pru­dence in the active life: as for my part, I have always esteemed, and taken for a Rule in my Stu­dies, the Saying of Neoptolemus, Philosophandum est paucis, Emen, apud Agell. l. 5. c. 15. nam omnino haud placet. It is good to study Philosophy, provided it be at certain hours: We are permitted to think highly of things, so that it be without ex­travagance. Contemplation is not forbidden us, if it does but give place, and leave us any time for good actions: for there is nothing so excellent in the [Page 7]world, but its extremities are vitious; Intemperance being had in Learning it self, and in Philosophy: You do not per­ceive that instead of making any profitable service of its Maximes, you cause your selves servilely to be its slaves; in­stead of governing it according to your occasions, it exercises a tyrannical Empire over you in its way; instead of possessing it as a thing of your own, it possesses and agitates you, as if some bad Demon had you in his power.

There onely wants a good Exorcism to deliver us from this unclean and evil Spi­rit. Goodness, Philoponus! how greatly I pity you upon one consideration, and how [Page 8]heartily you make me laugh up­on another: I have an extream compassion for you, to see you thus utter your injurious Ca­lumnies against so venerable and sacred a thing, which are, I be­lieve, as so many Ejections of your venome against Heaven it self, and which will fall down again upon your own face. But I am not any whit less pleased with the consideration of that gentile judgment you make of me, in esteeming me a Philoso­pher, and seeing in what a Pre­dicament you range all those, who truly may deserve that ti­tle, at present too much fill'd with envie and calumnie, by me to be avow'd, if I shall in­genuously confess to you, that it is from them I have learnt to [Page 9]give my self that satisfaction of you, and those that resemble you, at whose contempt they chiefly glorie, and derive from it an extraordinarie advantage, apprehending nothing so much as your Approbation, and never are more mistrustful of their fai­lings, than when it happens that they have pleased you. What crime can I have committed, did then Antisthenes ask, that those men do so much esteem and applaud me?

This is the Sentence that Epicte­tus does so often repeat.

I never did expect from you this Reparty, which cannot well be given but onely to the Populace, and not to men of our condition: but in every Case and Circumstance, remem­ber that there are not any worse maladies in the world, either as to the bodie, or to the minde, than those that seize upon, and yet do not make us sensible of the distemper.

Then, Philoponus, you believe that your Office has greatly distinguished you from the common rank of men, and you are still ignorant of the lit­tle difference that those of whom you speak do put be­tween your Purple and the cour­sest Stuff that covers the mea­nest Mechanick.

Know, that neither the highest Dignities of a State, nor the first Charges and Offices of a Court, nor the most important and e­minent places of a Palace, do keep and hinder a man, as they consider him, from being of the number of the people: Togis isti non judiciis distant, say they, those are all weakly vulgar spi­rits, which they place also in the same Categorie. But not to put you into an ill humour, since that otherwise our antient Acquaintance will not permit us to treat one another with so much rigour and severitie, I [Page 12]would gladly examine with you the Course of my life, and con­sider seriously, now we are to­gether, if my manner of pro­cedure and actings will be found as criminal and blame­able as you have strenuously reproach'd me for them, after you have in a few words dis­cours'd and said upon the subject of Philosophy, that all the Per­secutions which it has ever suf­fered, and all that has most ca­lumniously been impos'd upon it, cannot proceed but either From Ignorance or Envie, ex­cept you will take for Philoso­phers, I know not what kind of half-learned Gentlemen, or I know not what contenti­ous Pedants, who after they have spent their whole age upon [Page 13]Books, do finde that they have onely (as it were) run the gan­tlet through all the Sciences, without ever having stai'd to penetrate into the true and es­sential Philosophy; therein much-what like to your Ʋ ­lysses, Diog Laerr. in Aristipp. whom so migh­tily just now you in­sisted on, who went down into the infernal shades, took notice of all those persons of that Countrie, excepting the Queen Proserpina, who was the most notorious and remarkable Ob­ject that he could see there. But now let us consider whe­ther those three powerful De­mons of Humane life, Honesty, Ʋtility, and that which is de­lectable, do so abandon me, or are so extreamly contrary to me, [Page 14]as you have most violently pre­supposed to me at the beginning of your Discourse: & what will you say if I discover to you, that I receive from them more fa­vour and kindness in one day, than those have had in all their lives, whom you believe are the most advanced and bless'd in their good graces?

As for the first point, who is he that has this honestie or honour?

You will confess with me, that this is the greatest of exterior good things, even in the judge­ment [Page 15]of Aristotle, Eth [...]ad Nic. l. 1. c. 5. & l. 4. c. 3. as he who is most sol­licitously courted and sought by those in whom the other good things are found, and of whom even the very Gods themselves seem to be am­bitious. Now if this honour be nothing else but an eminent and splendid Respect, and a glorious testimonie of Esteem and Reverence which we bear to persons of a great and shining Vertue, and of Illustrious Merit, how then can you possibly pre­tend that the least Ray of this Glorie can shine upon you, who make a Profession of living in the deepest obscuritie of your house? and how is it likely that you should receive the re­compence of good and vertu­ous actions.

‘(Chi semina virtù, fama raccoglie)’ you who renounce all the Fun­ctions and Offices of the civil life, to enjoy a lazie and slug­gish repose, or to say better, a shameful idleness? for all Esteem and Reputation proceeds from some knowledge; and this knowledge cannot come but from our own carriages and actions, when they are evident and conspicuous, and that by the Work the Workman is known; and so long as ‘Cada uno es hijo de sus obras,’ and as the School says, ‘Ʋt se habet unumquodque ad esse, ita & ad operandum.’ [Page 17]how then, annihilating the cause, can the effect follow? and by what means, living alone by your self, and from the com­merce of all Mankind, will you obtain from them the recom­pence of an unknown Vertue, and of a Merit which does not appear?

I do easily perceive the Errour that makes you to argue after this manner; and it is, that you seeing us to be out of Employment, out of the troublesome hurrie and agitati­on of Business, leading a most Retir'd life, and as much out of the noise as possible, you straight conclude we are without action, and by consequence without Virtue, and without Honour, since that Vertue consists in [Page 18]Action; and Honour ought to be the price and recompence of Vertue only: but I would have you know, there are not greater and more important actions, than those of a Soul truly Philo­sophical, when it is deepest in Contemplation.

says the Roman Philosopher: for as it is visible in Mechanical Arts, that there are none more active than those which have the Conduct and Command, al­though they appear often with­out motion; the same may be [Page 19]said of Philosophers, as Aristotle reports,

Otherwise, says he,7 Polit. cap. 3. we should be forc'd to think very ill of Na­ture, and of the World, who do not produce any actions out of themselves:

Which reason made that Antient speak so gentily and so well, [Page 20] Satius est otiosum esse quam nihil agere. Attil. apud Plin. lib. 1. Epist. 9. And truly, if we are not called Men but from that supe­riour part which is within us, and our Minde being our Form, is that which gives us our Being, we may very well say, that those Functions and Operations are our principal and most im­portant Actions; and therefore they ought to be followed with the most solid glorie, and with the honour of the best allay that is possible to be found here be­low.

But since we are a Composition made up of two parts, and it is the union of the Soul and Body which makes us Men, wherefore should we de­nie one of these two Moieties [Page 21]its Functions? for by your own Maximes, ‘Ʋnumquodque est propter suam operationem;’ therefore when your Philoso­phy becomes so airie and spiritu­al, that it onely actuates this principal and superiour part, you do not perceive that instead of making your self a Man, you raise your self to a Phantôm; and that to give it a more perfect being, you take from it the Real, or at least the Reasonable for the Chimerical. But moreover, the most notable and eminent a­mong you, as the greatest part of the Stoicks, are not so much against the Occupations of the life Politick. For those say, that [Page 22]there are three kinds or ways of living, whereof they call the one Speculative, the other Active, and the third a Compound of the two other reasonable, which was that which ought to be chosen and preferr'd by men of good discourse, since that Nature hath seem'd to have form'd us expresly capable of those two Exercises, and that for this rea­son we were called Reasonable Animals; As Diogenes Laertius hath very well observ'd in divers places of the life of Zenon. Epictetus, Arrian. lib. 4. cap. 4. one of the Principal of that Sect, equally laughs at those who make it all their business and concern to seek out Char­ges and Employments, as he does at the others, who have [Page 23]them in the greatest aversion, and who flie them so as you do; comparing the former to drop­sical persons, who are never sa­tisfied with drinking; and the latter to those who are mad, and cannot so much as perceive they are so: and also that they being things which are equally inde­pendent on us, it is not reason­able to fasten our affections on them.

What great esteem ought we then to have of this sweet Re­pose, [Page 24]which not only Caesar can take away from us when he pleases, but the least trouble­some croaking of a Raven, the noise of a Drum, a Fever, and a thousand other Accidents of life? It is very difficult, says he, to have a Disposition accom­modated to them all, and to be able to say at any time with a good heart, that Verse which Cleantes hath made famous:

And what say you of Pytha­goras, who was so named, Quod veritatem perinde, atque Pythius loqueretur? do we not see by the Letter that he writ to Ana­ximenes, [Page 25]how much he invited him to leave off a while the contemplation of the Stars, and the rest of Philosophy, to be at leisure for the publick affairs of his Country?

Socrates, whom you so mightily esteem, practis'd the same, and thought that there were none but the most melancholick sort of persons, as those Admirers or Heraclitus, a Myson, an A­pemantus, a Timon, and other such Misanthropes, who have agreed with you in your opi­nion.

I will instantly tell you, that loving Truth above all things, as the most pleasure­able food of our Souls; with affection I seek it, wheresoever it is likely to be found; which hinders me from being parti­cularly engag'd to any one He­resie, or Sect of Philosophy,

But if I were forc'd to give my Vote and Suffrage in favour of some one, I should more pecu­liarly esteem that, to which Potamon of Alexandria gave the name of [...], or Elective, because it makes choise of what­soever pleaseth him in all the others, whereof it composes its [Page 27] Systeme apart, as a most plea­sant and agreeable Honey drawn out of many different flowers. But to answer the authority of all those greatly eminent per­sons, which you place on your side, (and of whom, I must confess, one cannot speak with too much veneration, since they seem only to have been sent down from Heaven, for the in­stitution of humane kinde) we ought to believe that they have with much reason exhorted the men of their times to vertuous actions, which are practicable in humane Society; and that not being contented only with their words and precepts, they were also willing to give them the Examples of their own car­riages and behaviour. Also I [Page 28]have never pretended that the active life of man, by the exer­cise of many vertues, had not a great deal of Merit and Re­commendation: but because Vertues are different, there be­ing some of them far more emi­nent than others, the natural and acquired, the moral and intellectual, methinks that since the more heroick and divine accompany the contemplative life, and than that kind of life, as I have already discovered to you, produces the most worthy and most important actions; I ought to be pardoned, if in the constraint you have given me, I prefer it not only to the active life of the Populace, but also to that which you were pleas'd to name reasonable, and which [Page 29]is mixt with action and contem­plation. And thus in my opi­nion is Empedocles to be under­stood, when he despised the Government of the estate which was presented to him, that so his Philosophical Speculations might not be interrupted.

Anaxagoras had the same sentiment, when he abandon'd a most ample patrimony, not to be obliged to be troubled about its conservation. The same conception made Democritus to retire within the tombes, and drove Pyrrhus into deserts. And as for Heraclitus, who resign'd his Scepter into the hands of his Brother, you have been pleas'd to make him already pass for a man of Bedlam; and peradventure you put into the same Predicament all those [Page 30]whom I might alledge to you, except you have some higher value and respect for the Prince of Lyceum, who also in my opinion has not yet been taken for an Hypocondriaque: and if his Reasons may seem of any weight with you, and his Au­thority of any reverence, pray let me persuade you to see that excellent Exhortation he hath made to a life purely contem­plative, in the latter end of his Ethicks. Anichomacus say­ing, cap. 7. That it hath the same advantages over the other kinds of life, as things simple have over compound, divine over frail and mortal; laughing at all others, who, like you, will needs have a mixture, and a blending of Action and Me­ditation: [Page 31]We must, saies he, abandon the body, and what­soever is corruptible, as much as possibly we can, to live principally by the spirit; thus it is that we do, as it were, come near to the Divinity, and thus may we make our selves immortal.

The Latin Philosopher, Senec. Epist. 73. though otherwise a Stoick, did not fail to give us the same precepts.

And in another Letter, where he invites his friend not to think of any thing but the cultivating of his minde, if he desires to get any fruit from it.

In truth, as for the common sort of men, who do not go by the name of Learned and Well-read, taking up onely some trivial Discourses of Philosophy to pass away the time withal, and to serve them as a divertisement in those Occupations which keep them subject the rest of the time; it is not any wonder if it does not exercise over them that powerful Empire: but as for those, who ply it seriously, and [Page 34]who have once earnestly engag'd their affections to it, it can't be thought that they are capable of dividing them, and of giving themselves to other matters.

‘Non possunt simul Thersitem, & Agamemnonem agere;’ for as the Gentile Lucius hath well observed, great Spirits, and elevated Souls, who have had a better share of the theft of Pro­metheus than others, are much more easily smitten, and more violently transported than the Populace, with the love of Sci­ences, and of Philosophy; just as the Indians, by reason of their natural heat, were by the power of Wine struck quite with another kind of fury than [Page 35]that of other men. It is true, in Philosophy, as he adds very notably, that Drunkenness and Fury ought to be named Sobriety and Temperance: for of that divine Nectar communicated unto men by Tantalus, as Phi­lostratus interprets it, men can never be said to drink to excess. Do not then any more affirm that a life purely contemplative is reprehensible of excess; & do not any farther dispute the pre­ference of that glory and ho­nour which so many signalized persons have so justly attributed to it: for if it be by that, that the true Philosophers are called

[Page 36]since we do really believe that the Gods justly deserve Worship and Veneration, we cannot de­ny Honour and Respect to those who come so neer to them; and if it be true, Philoponus, that Ʋtility is to be found whereso­ever Honesty is to be met with, ‘Quippe bonum ex honesto fluit,’ you will run a great hazard not to get any more advantage from the second point of our Confe­rence, than you have had in the first.

And who do you think will any further contest with you after so rare an Apo­theosis? for if onely the Gods may come in compare, and be equal with you, it is impiety for men to contradict you, and [Page 37]folly to resist you: Yet never theless, because Jupiter himself has not always disdain'd the Commerce and Conversation of Mankinde, and since moreover, as Phaedrus says,

I would most willingly learn of you where are those great Bles­sings which come in to you from your continual Speculati­ons, and to what use you employ them: for to my thinking, I never yet have seen any one among you, who was not very much in want and necessity, provided that the actions and labours of their Predecessors have not secur'd them from it before­hand. [Page 38]Now that so we may understand one another, because you make three kinds of good, or utility; ‘Bonum enim est utilitas, aut non aliud ab utilitate,’ say the Stoicks: Know, that I do not here mean to speak of the goods of the body or the minde, of which that is not the question now; but I intend by goods, those which are named the goods of fortune, which give us, and furnish us with the ne­cessities of this life, ‘Lo que se usano se escusa,’ and without which it cannot be but very miserable.

Which has given occasion to the Proverb,

A rich man, because without Wealth a man is not of any con­sideration in the civil life; the time not being any more so, as it was in that when they made an esteem of men though naked, as was Ʋlysses, who, as the honest Homer relates of him, did not want being respected and [Page 40]honour'd by the Pheacians, even in that very condition; but now

Insomuch as the poor Gobler Mycillus is contemptuously left shivering all alone by himself upon the Bank by Charon, as if Poverty carried its Infamy along with it even to the other world; whereas on the contrary, the golden Bow is all-powerful, and full of veneration. Which makes me to remember the O­pinion of the Chineses, who hold mens poverty for an infal­lible Mark of their sins: The Bonzi, or the Divines of Japan, [Page 41]their neighbours, teaching also in publick, that neither poor folks nor women can ever be sa­ved. For which reason, Riches are very much called Means and Faculties, inasmuch as by their means alone all is done; and Effects, because therewith they effect and accomplish all manner of Enterprizes. Our Antients have also given to it the name of Chevisance, because without it they could never put a chief period to any thing they under­took: They also make it a part of the Soveraign good, Luc. dial. Diog. & Alex. as Aristotle says, though Diogenes re­proches him there for it, in that he had not thus writ, but onely to give himself an occasion and boldness to demand and to re­ceive [Page 42]some of Alexander: But what good face soever the most austere among you put upon the matter,

And it is in their consideration that the Court of Dionysius was so fill'd with Grecian Philoso­phers. Plato, among others, with all his Divinity, having even to the third time contemned the so dreadful dangers of the im­placable Carybdis, to have his share in the liberalities of that King. It would be also an over­great niceness in them, not to say weakness, not to dare to [Page 43]take it, for fear they should take it; not to dare to possess it, for fear they should possess it; not to dare to use it, for fear they should abuse it.

The Sect of Apollonius Tyaneus was stifled in its very birth, for professing that pitiful and shameful poverty,

Now you cannot deny but that it is only action which is capable to preserve you from it; that [Page 44]Estates and the good Commo­dities of life, are not got, at least are not preserv'd, but by labour.

Aesop's Fisher not being able to catch any fish by his playing upon the Flute, was constrain'd to cast his Nets and his Tackling into the River. The Cyclop ‘ [...],Antonay du uvray Amour. c. 10. & Strabo Geog. l. 8. manuventèr,’ represented upon the gate of the Citie of Argos, with his hands seeming to come out of his belly, learns us that we cannot pre­serve [Page 45]and uphold our Being, but by the work and labour of our hands. How then is it possible for you, in the midst of your so abstracted Contemplations, and your Olympick Entertainments, to finde, I will not say, great af­fluence and riches, but onely the common necessities of life? for as the Judiciaries have very well observed, Jupiter the distributer of Wealth, is opposite to Mer­cury, in as much as he that hath the one of them Ascendant upon the Earth at his Nativitie, hath the other Descendant. Now Mercury is the Commander of that of learned men and Philo­sophers, but yet always with some regard to that lazie, drea­ming Saturn, which makes you to be of that good humour, and [Page 46]which imprints in you such commendable Complexions. One ought not therefore to wonder, if men of Learning and pro­found Speculation are most or­dinarily seen to be in want and necessity; and for my part, I cannot imagine what wealth you are able to discover to me, that does accompanie your Hy­perphysical Meditations, unless you would fain arrive at the Philosophers stone, or unless the Demons do give you a share of their hidden treasures; for I remember that Socrates had one of them for his ordinary Com­panion.

Why do you send us back to those Metallick Spirits? we who have all the Gods of Heaven for our most faithful and [Page 47]particular friends, who are able to give us all things, since that

and there is no good thing but what comes from them; and if the Proverb be true, That all things are common among Friends, ‘ [...],’ cannot you yet perceive, Philo­ponus, the immense greatness of our Riches, and how much we possess beyond all that you can imagine?

You have very good reason to call up, and awaken my imagination, since that your [Page 48] Riches as well as the Viands of the Banquet of witches, are all things phantastical, and which are not in the least perceptible to all the world; as it is said that the Philosophers have their imagina­tion much stronger than the other common sort of men: but since when I pray, have they contracted this strict friendship with the Gods? which I believe cannot subsist but in Equality and Resemblance.

Since the time that they gave themselves, more than any others, the trouble and pains to be conformable to them, and to love the Truth, to cherish Innocence, and to conserve pure and undefiled that part of the Soul, by which they hold an affinity with them. For I agree [Page 49]with you, that Friendship being Egality.

Now it cannot be your purple Role which makes you to re­semble them, for the Gods are all naked; nor your Magistra­cy,

nor your great Reputation and good Renown; none knows God, and many speak evil of him, and yet are unpunished: Nor is it the manner whereby you are carried in a Litter, or drawn in a Coach; for God car­ries all things, being the Centre [Page 50]and foundation of the Ʋniverse: Nor that active life, of which you so much brag; for God, as the first mover, is necessarily immovable: Nor yet your good meen; God is invisible: nor your strength; that is perishing, and God is immortal: nor your sumptuous feasts; for the Gods eat not: nor your Tapistry-lod­gings, and guilded Furniture; God inhabits not in any particu­lar place, but fills all equally:

Nor, to conclude, are the trea­sures and riches you so much boast of; for the Gods have no esteem and value for them.

But if I am formed a Spirit that despises all these things, if I have a Soul assur'd and stedfast against all that makes the Populace to tremble, if my Felicity be inde­pendant of all things which are acquir'd by Fortune,

Now am I in affinity with the Gods, I possess their [...], and full affluence of all things; I de­sire nothing more, I have all the Riches of Heaven.

O rare Resemblance! O rare Apotheosis! You will possibly tell me that the Gods, by the advantage and excellence of their nature, have no need of any thing; whereas ours, to maintain and uphold its being, requires the assistance of many external things, which are a part of the goods and means we speak of, or they cannot be possest without them. And here now I would demand of you, Philoponus, since thereby you avow to me that the sole use of things necessary to life ought to recommend Riches [Page 53]to us, that if your great Occu­pations had permitted you to make any convenient Reflecti­ons upon this Subject, to make a good judgement of it, you would not have reproached in us a Purity that is preferable to all manner of the largest opu­lencie.

Thus did that generous Soul understand it, who pronounced so boldly,

And in truth, the more things are excellent and divine, the less are they of necessity, and of dependancie on any other. Children and women have need of a thousand things, which men can make a shift well enough if they want them; and so like­wise sick people, in comparison of those who have their health. Hercules, though he was quite naked, save onely his Lions skin and his Club, walk'd over all the World, of which he was ador'd. Take away the preventions of your minde, ef­face out of it what the tyrannie of an evil Custom may have [Page 55]imprinted in it, renounce those sottish and idle opinions of a distracted multitude, examining by the Rules of Right Rea­son the natural necessities, and you will finde your self not only to be free from contemptuous indigence, but also enjoying an affluence of good things, not onely beyond the sence, but likewise above the fear of Po­verty.

The pompous Palaces, sumptu­ous Habits, a numerous retinue of Servants, are things very at­tractive, and full of a dazling [Page 56]splendour; but apply the Ca­non and the Rule which we just now were mentioning,

and you will finde nothing in them of what we seek: nothing which hath its foundation in Nature: but if you will con­form your life to what Nature demands, you will never be poor; if you will regulate it according to the opinions which are contrary to it, you then will never be rich nor accommoda­ted. Would you now become more than you are? retrench your desires, instead of increasing your substance, [Page 57] ‘Nihil interest utrum non deside­res, an habeas,’ for the thing comes all to one; you will gain more moderation in your minde, than you can possibly hope for from the libe­rality of Fortune.

It is the shortest and readiest way that you can take to come to this end. ‘Brevissima ad divitias, per con­temptum divitiarum via est.’ [Page 58]but if once you open the gate to Covetousness, if you once suffer the desire of superfluous things to enter, there are no longer any bounds and limits to conclude your desires.

If you once but fall into this Dropsie, there is nothing then capable to quench your thirst: new Acquisitions will seem to you as so many means and ways whereby you may still get fresh supplies; and you will finde, besides this disgrace, that by this depravation these vain and un­profitable things will then be­come [Page 59]as necessary. It is the Lesson that Zenon made after his shipwrack, when he said,

This was it that made Crates the Theban throw his money into the Sea, by the counsel and perswasion of Diogenes; which made Xenocrates send back again the thirty Talents of gold to A­lexander; and which invited Democritus (the first, says Pliny, who found out and made known the Society of Heaven and Earth) not to retain any thing of the profit which the contemplation of Heaven had caus'd him to make on the Olive-trees; having [Page 60]been since imitated by Sextus the Roman Philosopher: For it is here that the Paradox holds true,

Mediocritie is more valuable by far than abundance: because

The foot, says Epictetus, ought to give shape and proportion to the shoe, and the necessities of the bodie to rule our posses­sions. [Page 61]Whatever goes beyond that measure, is rather a hin­drance than any convenience: Too long and too weightie Vestments, do onely serve to load and trouble us: The fifth wheel added to the Chariot, like a third eye to the face, will onely dis­figure it, and besides make it to go with the greater uneasi­ness. How happie was Socrates to be able to cry out in the midst of a well-stockt Fair,

And what a wonderful pleasure is it for me to see Carmides in the midst of Xenophon's Feast, to place his greatest cause of boasting in his poverty! for cer­tainly it is in this apparent [Page 62] poverty that the true and essen­tial Riches are found: it is the nourishing Mother of Sciences, the Couzen-germain of good Understanding, the great Friend of all Libertie, the inseparable Companion of solid Repose. But to be made really sensible of these things, we ought to be rai­sed far above the common level of mankind; we ought to leave equally distant below our selves, the Prince, the Magistrate, and the handicraft Artist:

Purifie your Soul, and free your minde from all anticipation, and [Page 63]you will then soon think other­wise than you have done hither­to.

Instead of flying povertie, you will seek and court it, as that which gives our Souls a season­ing temper of resolution and force; so as the rigour of a pinching Winter shall make our bodies to be more robust and prepar'd with fortitude: ‘Si vis vacare animo, aut pauper sis oportet, aut pauperi simi­lis.’

You will then observe that with great respect, and not without reason, the Poet hath nam'd it to us terrible but in appearance, and onely to the eye, ‘Terribilis visu formae,’ as if he was resolv'd to let us understand thereby, that in ef­fect, and if we took it rightly as we ought, it was a pure decepti­on: It was that which made Cleanthes to bear the surname of

because, that he might set to his studies in the day, he got his Live­lihood in the night by drawing [Page 65]of water; but it rendred him the worthy Successor of Zenon. It was that which compell'd one of the two Friends Hephestion Proaeresius to keep the house, whilst that the other appear'd in publick, having but one only Garment between them; but it likewise did put them in the Rank of the most Illustrious So­phisters of their time. Now if the extremity of indigence was accounted so tolerable by those vertuous men, and that so many others, as we could here name, why should we then complain, and exert our laments, being in a middle fortune? why should we esteem our selves to be more pure, because we do not possess superfluous things, or rather because we are not possess'd by [Page 66]them? As we are said to have a Fever, when it is that which holds and possesses us: But why do not we vaunt it, and make our boasts with Anti­sthenes, Xenoph. in Symp. for having found out in this ho­nest Poverty the greatest & the onely true Riches that are in the world? They are those which Socrates had taught him, to con­template at leisure all nature, to meditate with full liberty of minde its true effects; to enjoy an intire and absolute repose, and a real tranquillity; (the most estimable thing in the world, as he said, [...], the most delicate) to pass his days without interruption and di­sturbance, with Socrates; to hearken to his charming Dis­courses; [Page 67]to consider his excel­lent actions; to draw important Lessons from his least Move­ments. Supernatural Goods are those incorruptible Riches that are independant on Fortune; this wealth which is easie to conserve, and which not all the world can ever dispoil us of! Here, Philoponus, here is a Sum­mary delineation of Good and Ʋtility; which may proceed from an obscure and particular life, such as ours is: There one­ly remains the pleasure and con­tentment of it to be examined, if notwithstanding any may doubt whether the Goods which we have now described be most pure and perfect; which can­not be so named, if they were not accompanied with delecta­tion and pleasures.

If you will affirm to me, that Aristotle, Cato, and several others, to prove that Man is the most sociable of all Animals, do observe that there are none who would possess all these good things together, if they must enjoy them singly and alone, because in that soli­tude they cannot have any sa­tisfaction nor contentment: That if at any time we are plea­sed with tormenting our selves, as it were, in a stolen privacie, as Ajax did in Homer, and that our humour perswades us to retire our selves from the rest of mankind, there alone like the Toad, to cowre over our venome; [Page 69]these are the effects of a pro­found Melancholy, which at that time bears too much Empire over us.

'Tis a false and a deceitful satis­faction and complaisance, which proceeds from a too hot and corrupted temperament, having no other foundation than our ill Complexion, which de­praves and alters the functions of our Soul, giving to it the illusions of a false and imaginary pleasure. It was that made one of the Ancients say, that among the perils and dangers of life, that of Solitude was none of the least; and which might think, that under an austere [Page 70]meen, and the retir'd visage of a Philosopher,

there might be found a true briskness and gayety of spirit. As for my part, I am of opinion that the Poets have not express'd to us the torments of Promethe­us, but onely to figure out the pains that such as you are, do give your selves every day. Mount Caucasus represents to us the solitude that you profess; the Eagle which knaws upon his still-renewing heart, is the con­templation wherewith you in­cessantly afflict your mind, in the narrow scrutiny of Causes, [Page 71]and of Reasons that arise one from the other, and so grow on ad infinitum. I would advise you, Hesychius, to fol­low the counsel which the good Tyresias gave to Menippus, Lucius in Necyth. for the best that you possibly can embrace, when he advertis'd him softly in his ear, that if he desir'd to receive any contentment in his life, he should leave off seeking with so extraordinary a care and study, the beginnings and ends of all things; ‘Hoc tibi puta vatem dixisse,’ for otherwise that excellent Wit will be more prejudicial than of advantage to you; you will onely be ingenious to de­ceive [Page 72]your self, and to create your self a great deal of trouble. But, say you, otherwise this sweet and tranquil repose which is your soveraign good, is not to be found but in solitude: And pray, let me know, what have been the Charms which so powerfully bewitch'd you, that you place Felicity in a thing that will make those men who are fast lockt up in sleep, to be far more happie than when they are never so much awake? the Bears, and the other stupid Ani­mals, the greatest part of the year, would have a great ad­vantage over you,

[Page 73]as Seneca himself affirm. Do not you see on the contrary, that an over-great idleness and lei­sure is that which harrasses us most?

It is then that we are most agi­tated, we are beating the bush, and that in hopes of giving our mindes some pleasurable em­ployment, we are onely crea­ting a deal of trouble to our selves. ‘Incertè errat Animus, praeter propter vitam vivitur,’ as old Ennius speaks, it consumes it self, being of a fiery nature, when we ever deny to give it [Page 74]nourishment. Is it not true, that the most free and metalsom Horses are soonest spoilt in the stable? that the delicatest Gold straight rusts, if it be not us'd? that the most Oriental Pearls lose their grace and beauty, if they be not often rubb'd and handled? that the most ravish­ing and subtle Perfumes of Ara­bia are corrupted and good for little, if they be not frequently stirr'd? And yet you place your greatest Contentment in being without Action, your last Fe­licity in the enjoyment of an half-dead Idleness. Remember, Hesychius, that the most mise­rable of all the damned, are the most idle, and who most con­template at their ease.

You see that the Poet gives us to know and understand his torment onely by the perpetual Repose to which he is condem­ned.

If we ought to make this principal use of Philosophy, as Aristippus said, of speaking boldly to any whomsoever, you will not think it strange, if in the confidence of our ancient Acquaintance, I answer you with briskness and freedom. 'Tis an ordinary thing among all those, who, like you, spend their lives in the divers occupations [Page 74] [...] [Page 75] [...] [Page 76]and troublesome concerns of a tumultuous life, to have very bad conceptions of those, who smoothly roul away their years in the soft repose and silence of a private life, which proceeds not onely from that natural in­elination whereby every parti­cular thing bears an affection for its like, and has an utter abhor­rence for all that is contrary to it; but also from a pleasure, and an ambition which gets the mastery over the greatest part of mankind, and makes them passionately to desire to be e­steemed prudent, and gravely considerate in the conduct of their fortune, and by conse­quence happy in that kind of life whereof they make profes­sion. Now when they see per­sons, [Page 77]who by actions that are very different from theirs, shew that they have inclinations and sentiments in all things contrary, they do believe that in them they have found out so many confessors of their Felicity and of their Judgement; from whence at last proceeds that picque and animosity against them. This is it which has in­vited so many great persons to keep themselves as much retired and conceal'd as possibly they could, and to leave to us the Laws and Precepts of doing the like, upon penalty of running the hazard of that malice and hatred which we are now spea­king of. Epictetus continually is proposing to us the ways of acting, and the comportments of [Page 78] Socrates, who scarcely, if ever, took upon him the state of a Philosopher: and all his Succes­sours have agreed pretty well in this point,

But because this publick Envie pursues men of good Sence and Judgment even into their most particular Retirements, one ought, says Seneca, to imitate those Animals, who efface the marks of their Lurking-places, spoiling the tracts, and confoun­ding the foot-steps by which they get to them. So do you keep, adds he, your leisure and idle time, the most reserv'd and hid as possibly you can; but especially take heed of deriving [Page 79]any advantage from it; and thereby seeming to covet the title of a Philosopher, impute it rather to an indisposition which constrains you to repose; say that your Imbecility makes you, whe­ther you will or no, to keep from action; or that your ill fortune does spitefully, and to your regret, call you off from those Charges and Employs. To conclude, accuse your self rather of carelesness, and of an unconcern'd humour, than suf­fer them to penetrate into your secret inclinations. This, Phi­loponus, is a Lesson that I have always esteem'd to be most ne­cessary and important, and un­der the Rules of which I inten­ded to be conducted for ever; but I see cleerly that I have not [Page 80]yet been capable absolutely to shelter my self from your anger and indignation, which trans­ports you even to a reproaching of us. Your chagrin and per­verse meen, say you, is insuffer­able, since it makes us to resem­ble the Polyphemi, and the savage Wolves. Pray, give me your permission to answer you, even by way of repartée and raillery, what the common Father of Philosophers did on the like occasion, That it is much better for a man to bear the injurious word of dumping, melancholy thinker,

than that of a senseless, brainless no-wit.

You are not less angry, when you compare us to the miserable wretches that are damn'd in Hell, to the punishments of which I might with a much greater resemblance reduce and equal the calamitous labours of a life without any quiet and repose, such as yours is: for if the unfortunate Tantalus doth not endure a more cruel torment than that of being neer those Goods which he sees, and yet cannot possess; how much more miserable is that man, who feels himself disrob'd of himself, knows the contentment of the minde, and the solid substantial pleasures wherewith that may [Page 82]be delighted, and yet he cannot satisfie himself with any of them, nor enjoy so much as one poor small moment of rest and tran­quillity? Now this is that which the men of action and business, like you, do prove, and are sensible of dayly; this [...] of the Greeks, which cannot be well translated into Latin or English, Agell lib 8. cap. 16. ha­ving in it such an I know not what peculiarity and properness, that it absolutely ravishes a man without leaving him the least possession of him­self, to say that he must partage and share out his life in such a manner, that there are onely some certain days, and a few swift hours, for him to bestow upon such and such Occupati­ons; [Page 83]and to those too he must on­ly lend, and not give up himself entirely: I should account you far less unjust, if you absolutely condemn'd our Philosophy, than when you are resolved to mode­rate and limit them so unto­wardly.

Besides, this is voluntarily to make the half of your time for certain miserable, and so indeed for the rest which you think does belong to you. I desire no other testimony than that of your own Resentment, which, I am sure, will make you confess, that your minde was never ca­pable [Page 84]of receiving this division, without the perplexing remem­brances of your various affairs come in to thwart it, to give you insufferable wracks and tortures, the enemies of con­tentment; and truly now if you can have your minde wor­thily stai'd, and in a Philosophi­cal calm, amidst the inqui­etudes of a Court, and the agi­tations of a Palace, I would permit you willingly then to play the Philosopher with us: but yet in the mean time you dare to reproach us that we have not any faithful and real plea­fures. Alas, we should be a great deal beside the cushion, if we should assure [Page 85]

or if we should say, ‘Sapientem illum esse qui plenus gaudio, hilaris & placidus inconcussus, cum Diis ex pari vivit.’

And truly if we had found that the Stoicks had rightly called Joy an accessary, and as it were a dependance upon Vertue,

it would then follow, that the most eminent and exalted Ver­tues, which are the Intellectual, [Page 86]by reason of their object, should be still attended with the most perfect contentment, in as much as effects do ever result from the nature of their causes, and are commensurate thereto; and so by consequence the Contem­plations of Philosophers would meet with satisfactions that are more pure, and pleasures more exquisite, than can be those of an active life: but would you know what it is that makes you pass such a prejudicial judge­ment upon our way of living so solitary and retired? it is be­cause you can't tell how to pass away the time, nor entertain your selves without company; and therefore you imagine that you are never in a worse posture, nor more desolate, than when [Page 87]it is your evil fortune to be a­lone. Now (according to the ancient and plain Proverb) you measure other peoples Corn by your own bushel, and think their humours resemble your own, when (alas!) it is quite contrary with them; for they are never more brisk or jolly, than when they are conversing with themselves; for they finde that within which is unknown to you, and which gives them the greatest satisfaction and con­tentment imaginable.

This is the great advantage [Page 88]which Philosophers have over the rest of mankind. Antisthe­nes being demanded wherein principally his Philosophy was serviceable to him, gave this answer,

It is the Prerogative of men of good sence, who, being alone, know how to enjoy a vertuous and an innocent Complaisance with themselves.

Those elevated Souls that are [Page 89]freed from the sottish fancies of the Populace, never suffer any dis­gusts from themselves; solitude does not astonish them; they have not any of that gnawing of a criminal Conscience; their Genius does not persecute them: but in a full enjoyment of their Integrity and Innocence, they converse with Intelligences, contemplate the immense great­ness and power of Nature; they consider the causes and effects of Heaven and Earth, meditate on the beginnings and ends of all things.

They do not there languish in a discontented and froward idle­ness; [Page 90]such a solitude is not ca­pable of saddening a soul that is divinely transported: Do not we see the Eagle, which prefers the deserts, where, from the su­premest Region of the Air, it contemplates the Sun at the neerest approach, far before the company of all other Birds? Imagine so it is with a Spirit truly philosophical, which being exercised in the Art of mental Discourse and Meditation, vo­luntarily separates from the mul­titude, which it leaves beneath it, that it may come neerer to the Divinity it contemplates. This was it which made Aristotle to conclude,Eth. ad Nic. l. ult. c. 8. at the end of his Morals, that the more a man is contem­plative, the more he is happie, [Page 91]and assimilated to the Divine Es­sences, which have not received this denomination from God, Plut. de Plu. ph. l. 1. c. 9. but from the word [...], that is to say, to contemplate, be­cause it is their business, and ordinary exercise. And more­over, because that every thing is naturally carried out to its good, all men have an inclina­tion and a Philosophical desire of being learn'd and knowing. Now Science is not attained but by Contemplation.

and that cannot be possess'd but in a grand repose and tran­quillity.

‘Quievisse ac stetisse Dianaeam, id vocamus scire ac pruden­tem esse,’ says the Master of the School. We have all then from Nature a propension to rest and con­templation, as to our greatest felicity. And if it be true that all the accomplishment of the natural desire is accompanied with real pleasures, and with volupty; The Philosopher, who in the enjoyment of a profound repose, contemplates and knows the natural truths, and the es­sences of all things, as much as they are humanely perceptible, shall questionless receive a most accomplish'd Joy, and a most perfect Contentment.

This, Philoponus, this is the cer­tain estate and true condition of him who is without any false­hood, pretence, or disguise Phi­losophical. And if any, per­chance, have appear'd to you to be such as you were pleas'd but just e'en now to decipher them, pray believe that it was their beard and their chin have made you take for Philosophers those who onely have a vain cover and shew of it, and are onely Rams puff'd up, such as those of Apuleius, which seem'd to you to be real men. We have so many wrangling Pedants, so many contentious [Page 94] Grammarians, so many flutter­ing and extravagant Humanists, all who do make a Profession of courtship to Philosophy, and are mightily enamour'd with it, that it is no marvel if many persons make such disadvanta­gious Judgments of it, and so much contemn it; though it be a very unjust and wicked thing to make that onely responsible for the defaults of its Professors. All Arts and Sciences being herein in a much better condi­tion than that; for one does not impute to Architecture, if any person makes an ill use of the Rule or the Compass; nor to Musick, if he strikes not plea­santly and with a delicate touch the Lute or Harp; but straight it is concluded that such a one [Page 95]is by no means a good Architect or Musician. Diog. Laert. in Aristip. Why therefore do you asperse Philosophy, for all the fooleries and impertinences of such Fol­lowers, or rather of such Im­postors, like to those heedless and inconsiderate lovers of Pe­nelope, who took for her, Melan­tha and Polidora, her servants? Certainly whosoever have been capable of knowing it best, and of deserving its good graces, they are those who make it least to appear, who have more discretion in their happie for­tune, and who keep its favours the most reserv'd and secret.

Seneca verily thought that his friend Lucilius was become his favourite, when he writ to him.

Epist. 11. & 32.

Those proud Sophisters, as the learned Thrasons, who onely swear by the name of that Mi­striss, who have onely Axioms in their mouths, who onely speak Assertions and Physical Conclusions, are those who least of all know the beauty which they so much boast of and pretend to serve, as also they have least share in her affections. [Page 97]The true Professors and sincere Lovers of that fair and divine Penelope, are those whom Ari­stotle describes to us in the third Treatise of his Politicks, as being Intelligences invested with our humane form; or, to say better with him, as even Gods conversing with Men. And here it is that I would desire you to observe, with how little reason you have been desirous to subject them to the ordinary Rules of others lives, and to the common manner of acting with the multitude. Such persons, says he, do not make any part of the Republick, which is an Assembly of those who live in Equality, because their Eminence puts them above their Peers, and distinguishes them too much: [Page 98]The Laws do not respect them, because they are themselves the living and animated Laws, which rule and govern all o­thers; none have any right and power to command them, be­cause they are Kings and perpe­tual Dictators, whom Reason will have all the world to obey: If then you will be so rash and full of temerity, to prescribe to them Statutes and Ordinances, know that you would fain like­wise impose them upon Jupiter himself. I have nothing to do, says also that great Epictetus, with the Laws of Cassius, or of Masurius, since I am obedient to those of the Author of Na­ture; and the Stoick of Cicero, in the fourth of his Academical Questions, laughs at the Laws [Page 99]of Lycurgus, of Solon, and of the twelve Tables, protesting that there are no true and real Laws, but those of his Sage Master. Such was, adds Ari­stotle, Hercules among the Ar­gonauts, whom, for that very reason, the Ill-smelling ship Arga would not receive among the other persons, because he surpassed them all with too much Excellence and Disparity. If this description seemeth strange to you, observe, the better to comprehend it, that there are two sorts of Repub­lick, the small and particular one, and the great one, which is that of the Ʋniverse. It is of the first that Apollonius Tyaneon must be understood to speak, when he said

And it is in respect of the last, that the Philosophers, of whom we speak, are call'd Cosmopolites, or Citizens of the World. They cannot, because of their disproportion'd greatness, make a part of the bodies of particu­lar Estates, as we have just now said: but considering them in this great City of the Ʋniverse,

they make of it the most beau­tiful, the most important, and [Page 101]the most considerable Members after the Gods, if you will comprehend them in it, so as Epictetus did, and the other Philosophers of his Sect.

Now if you would further demand of me what is their Employment here, and to what purpose they serve, I will tell you: They keep us from being ignorant of the marvellous things of the Almighty, and of Nature, being the witnesses, interpreters, and admirers of them. Pythagoras compares them very gentily to the spectators of the Olympick games, who lea­ving to others the Courses, the Combats, the Bargains, the Sales,Arrianus, l. 2. c. 14. and the o­ther various Occupa­tions, content themselves with [Page 102]contemplating all these things in repose, though the Merchants make a wry mouth at them, or laugh them to scorn. Others likewise have very appositely considered this world as a mag­nificent Theatre, upon which so many kinds of life, as there are diversity of personages, are re­presented. The Philosophers are found sitting, considering the Ʋniverse with an extream pleasure, whilst that Kings, Princes, and great Monarchs are as so many Actors of the Comedy, who seem onely to play for the content and satisfaction of those worthy spectators. Diogenes understood it so perfectly, when he was pleasant with Alexander, and told him in way of raillery and contempt, that he was [Page 103]master of his dispositions, and he wanted but a very small mat­ter not to be inferiour to him. And truly, since that the King was like so many other persons, a slave to his passions, Diogenes, who commanded them, making them to truckle and be subject to Reason, might very well boast of his mastering the Ma­sters of Alexander; and what had he in that preheminence, but that which we give to Philosophers above the greatest Kings upon Earth, which are conform'd to the order and disposition of all the Ʋniverse? where we believe that the In­telligences of Sciences, and of Illumination, are to be preferred and exalted far beyond those of Powers and Dominions. But [Page 104]notwithstanding I do not doubt but that you will think these thoughts to be very strange, as being so extreamly different from the ordinary Sentiments, and received Opinions: but you know that there are no Arts nor Professions without their Paradoxes; as when the Physi­cian orders the Eye to be cata­rackt to have its sight restored,Arrianus, lib. 1. c. 25. or to break the Leg to make the person walk upright: why then should we wonder that Philoso­phy, the soveraign Physician of our Souls, hath also hers, and that it is very necessary for her to give us Paradoxes, provided that, as Cleanthes said, they be not Paralogues, Arrianus, lib. 9 cap. 1. or absurd and unrea­sonable.

Now that we may rightly know and comprehend them, we ought to be initiated in­to its sacred Mysteries: That we may appropriate them, and profit by them, we ought to have the Spirit of understanding and the Philosophical genius. A weak stomach, and which is not accustomed to such solid viands, will reject them, instead of di­gesting them, and of being nourished by them. We need not therefore wonder if those persons, who feed upon that Aliment which is so different from ours, have also the Taste and the Appetite to be as much disresembling.

Do you think, Philoponus, in the perpetual agitations of your va­rious affairs, and in the servile distractions of your eminent charges, to possess the same even pulse of minde, and to have the same cogitations with those who are onely taken up in the Culture of Philosophy, are onely exercis'd and busied in Contemplation, have no other greater pleasure than in this solution and separa­tion of the soul and body, as Phi­losophers onely? For as Action consists in the movement,Arist. 1. de Ani. cap. 3. so doth Speculation, as we have set it forth, consist all in repose and leisurely idleness, ‘Intellectio similis est cuidam quieti & statui.’ [Page 107]which are things diametrically contrary and opposite, and which also produce fruits of a very different nature. But since I have as yet declined revealing to you the most secret Articles of the Philosophical Profession, I will not any longer make it a difficulty to trust to your loyal­ty and faithfulness the most in­ward Reserve of my Soul, and make you to see quite naked, in what terms I saw my self formerly, and also in what condition and quality of minde I finde my self now at present to be. I have been no less than you affected with an haughty ambition of appearing in the world; there was nothing I left unattempted to satisfie that passion; I would have had [Page 108]recourse to Penny-royal, and to the other Herbs, if I had be­liev'd, as Pliny re­ports,Lib. 25. cap. 10. that they would any ways have contribu­ted to my glory and reputation. As for Riches, although that passion was never much in me, but in a very weak and lan­guishing degree, if it were that which I accord in with the Spa­niard,

Methinks Hesiod had very great reason, when he said that money was another Soul which made us to live, and subsist.

As to those pleasures which ac­company Honours and Riches, my complexion did not render me incapable of any of them; and I had natural inclinations as strong and powerful it may be as any other to make me seek and court the enjoyment of them; and I was also very ex­treamly ingaged in their pursuit, as you may, if you please, well remember, if you have still any memory of our first acquain­tance; when that my good Genius carried me to the know­ledge of some persons of sound Sence and Judgment, which gave to mine the first illumina­tions, and made me to discern the first glimmering and beams of true Philosophy, their manner of living being absolutely different [Page 110]from mine, their Ratiocinations and their Sentiments opposite to those which I had till that time retained, with what zeal and propension I have always perceived in me to the study and love of the truth in all things, and indeed above all things; and yet notwithstand­ing the efforts of first intelli­gences and apprehensions, the violence of evil habits, the ty­ranny of customs, the torrent of the multitude, had easily carried me away in my first course.

I was then in the greatest hazard [Page 111]imaginable to fall, if that Socrae­tical Demon, which had a care of my conservation, had not remedied it, ordering me that little Voyage which I made through the principal parts of Europe, just as good Physicians do frequently prescribe the change of Air to those whom they would fain preserve. And certainly that transplantation is no less profitable to Men than to Plants, which we see do thrive and grow much better by that means.

And we may observe, that in Heaven the moving Planets are of much greater consideration [Page 112]than those that are fixt, and do not stir at all; so likewise may we take notice how exceedingly those ancient famous men of Greece did value Peregrination, such as were the lives of Thales, Solon, Cleobulus, Pythagoras, Plato, Democritus, and several others, who gave sufficient and assured testimonies of it: and if you will give me leave, I will tell you upon this subject, what I always thought of the long sleep of Epimenides of fifty seven years, having left his Fa­thers Sheep to stray whither they would, whilst he took that profound sleep. For what can that Fable signifie, but a long Voyage, during all the time that we do frequently let our domestick affairs, as it were, [Page 113]sleep? The Paternal sheep, that is, the goods which our Parents have left us, then running a great hazard of being lost and gone: But so it was, that after this long night,D. Laert. in Epimenid. or to say better, absence, he returned most il­lustriously to his own home, and most beloved of the Gods, [...], which is preferable to all other considerations. I will not say that my Voyages have been attended with so happy a success; but I can assure you, that this is the time of my life, which in my esteem I have the best employ'd, since which I have given my self the liberty to form it, and to regulate the course of it, according as Rea­son hath made me see it was [Page 114]most for my interest and advan­tage. The Gods had given me the being of it, but it was Phi­losophy that hath procur'd me its well-being.

The wishes of my Parents had destined me to a thousand Ser­vitudes, Philosophy hath brought me off from them, and put me in­to a full and true liberty: The Laws and Customs seem'd to oblige me to actions that are shamefully laborious; Philosophy has given me an exemption therefrom, and hath bless'd me with a sweet Repose and Feli­city.

And yet you think strangely of my ways of living, you believe my solitude to be blame-worthy, you fancie my retreat to be shameful, my condition poor and beggarly, my tranquillity idle and reproachable, and my pleasures imaginary even to extravagance. But will you please to make use of a little of your natural Reason, and I will desire no other Judge than your self to determine our difference. Is it not true, (I'll submit to your Conscience to tell me) that although the eminent dig­nitie of your Office renders you never so much respected in this [Page 116] Country, yet notwithstanding because there still remains some­thing thing superiour to you, your ambition is not satisfied, and your desires set you upon the wrack, as often as you exalt your eyes on high? Is it not true, that although you possess great Riches and a vast Estate, yet if there be any thing wanting which yoy esteem and passio­nately aspire to, your minde is far more troubled at your mis­sing of them, than the enjoy­ment of all the other things you have can give you contentment? Is it not true, that although you give up your self to all the pleasures and indulgences you possibly can, you cannot for­bear desiring and wishing for more, and imagining to your [Page 117]self a great many others, whose privation most extreamly af­flicts you? Have you ever been sensible of any joy which hath not been attended with an af­fection more powerful and pres­sing, in the midst, and as it were from the very source of your most delicious pastimes and recreations? Hath there not risen some inward disgust, and some disagreeable bitterness, which hath surpassed all that hath been most sweet and plea­sing to you? But on the con­trary, if I think and finde my self so much advanced above all your Honours and Adora­tions, as that I can despise and scorn them without doing any violence to my self, and know­ing the evil consequence of them,

If I do not consider all your Riches and Wealth, but onely as prettie little fooleries, and nuts which Fortune throws out to men, just as we do to little children, pleasing my self with tasting now and then one which some accident has flung even to me too, according as Epictetus permits it,Arian. l. 4. c. 7. whilst that others are struggling and contending who shall get the most. If I, ac­knowledging your greatest plea­sures to be but ridiculous and simple, aye, and ruinous too, am satisfied with my own enjoy­ments, and know them to be [Page 119]pure, solid, and true, which all the world is not capable to make them be in the least troublesome to me, nor can hinder me of; and if they be such as I have made demonstrable to you in my precedent discourse; if all those things are true, and if this be justly the posture and con­dition of both; tell me, if there remains yet any ingenuity in you, and tell me candidly, which of the two seems to be most happy? to which will you ad­judge the advantage? which is that which you would prefer? O, Philoponus! can you be able to hesitate upon this is the pronouncing of your Judge­ment? And if, as I could easily have done it, I had made you see more nakedly and plainly [Page 120]the ravishing Beauties of our Divine Philo­sophy, Ennapius in Maxio. ha! what extream pas­sions, and what admirable trans­ports of love would you have for her! If this Caelestial Deity had but once touch'd you to the quick, what an unquench­able thirst of Discipline and Learning would have ever been upon you for the future, and make you spend the rest of your life in another guess manner than hitherto you have done! If you had but ever so little tasted the sweetness and plea­surableness of a solitary Con­versation, and your minde had taken any repast of the Nectar and Ambrosia▪ of its charming Contemplations, how would you presently have quitted all man­ner [Page 121]of other food than that, with the greatest contempt in the world! and how would you che­rish the repast of a private and particular life, to enjoy its enter­tainment without any trouble, and how would you prefer our desarts and solitudes to the most eminent and indearing compa­nies, and to the most important actions of your politick life! It is not for that, that we leave the Towns, to dwell in Woods and savage Mountains; our minde findes its Hermitage every where; and in the most numerous Assemblies of men in the greatest Towns and Cities in the world, I very frequently finde my self in a Desart.

And I am commonly as much alone as could be ‘Orpheus in Sylvis, inter Del­phinas Arion.’ provided that my Soul may conserve its liberty, and that its functions are not oppressed un­der the weight and burden of your importune and trouble­some affairs, exempt from passion and trouble, it will finde every where Gods with whom to con­verse, it will go out through all the extent of Nature, and by the means of a strong and a vi­gorous Contemplation, will make [Page 123]Voyages to the furthest parts of the World; and spiritual Navi­gations, where it will discover the Americans, and the new Worlds, full of Riches and Ra­rities until now unknown.

And do you think that there are not every day found out in the Intellectual Globe, places which are not yet broke up nor cultivated (as we see every year almost are discovered by some or other) which have not belong'd to you, nor been [Page 124]inhabited as yet by any, as ever it can be known? Now this is one of the Correspondences, and one of the Reports which is most truly made from the great to the little World. Now if the discovery be not made by one as well as by another, it is onely the defect of Courage or Address; the Art of Speculation and Meditation, which is the certain spiritual Navigation, being either despised, or else ab­solutely left off; and every one contenting himself with the knowledge and science of their Fathers, as we do of the Lands of this Country, without trou­bling our selves about those of Canada. But when there are any Heroick Souls, as the Tiphi or Coulombes in this spiritual [Page 125]Ocean, they finde out ways that are wholly novel, and make a descent into deeps unknown, full of rarity and admiration. But I fancie you do not much care what is done or passes in other Hemispheres: nor would I have made so long an Ha­rangue, but for my justification, and in some manner to satisfie the good will and affection you have always testified to me.

It is not without good reason that your Aristotle hath said, that by solitude men became

For I must confess sincerely to you, that if you are not some­thing more than ordinary and humane, you have such sallies of minde, and extravagances so bizarre and particular, as cannot be lodg'd under any reasonable Figure, without ma­king it to run up and down the streets like a Bedlam.

Adieu.