CHAP. I. Of Nature, and our humane condition; and how we must accommodate things, in the educa­tion of a young man.

THose who beleeve, that the Soul is endued with all Science, and knowledge at the instant of its Creation, which the presence of Objects does af­terwards only awaken, and stirre up in our memories, doe very much derogate from the merits of vertue, which acquires them [Page]through much labour. As likewise those who are perswaded, that it is a smooth Ta­blet, where one may easily engrave all sorts of Images; make no reflexion on the power of the temperature or constitution, nor of the need it hath of a commerce with the Sences, by which the species of all things are presented to it. 'Tis a naked Tenant which comes to inhabit a furnish'd Palace, where it finds the dispositions, and the seeds of habits, which time, and exercise does afterwards bring to maturity. We carry the seeds of our good, or evill qualities in our veines, and the masse of our body, of it selfe insensible, does neverthelesse containe the originall of those Sentiments, which the spirit vivifies. The intimate union wherewith the soule is knit unto it, and the need it hath of its Ministery, ought to teach it to entertaine it as a compagnon, and not like a slave. 'Tis brutishnesse to abandon it to its appetites, and 'tis also a dangerous enterprize to teare them from it. That is the best period, to which by long and diffi­cult [Page]labours, a mature wisdome can attaine, which time, and various fortunes does bet­ter teach, then any discourse possibly can. There are some Philosophers so austere, that they will have an Angell in a man of flesh, not considering him, but by what di­stinguishes him from beasts, without mind­ing that there are many things which are common to both; if he be rationall, he is al­so animall, and his kind is no lesse essential, then his difference. They will reduce this little Republicke into a Monarchy, wherof each part contributing to the labour, and merits, ought likewise to participate in the counsell, and the government.

If the aged appeare somtimes more mo­derate in their passions, then the youthfull; they owe this no lesse to their bloud which growes chill, then to that experience, which illuminates them. Young people have a more puissant enemy to combate, and wea­ker weapons to make their assaults. Those who conduct them, must by their prudence, imitate the wisdome of brave Comman­ders [Page]of Armies, who not willing to hazard a Battell, endeavour to ruine their enemies by cutting off all supplyes, and provisions, dividing their forces, wearying out their souldiers by continuall alarmes, and hand­somely avoiding all their dangerous at­tempts. He that should stifly oppose their passions, which are ordinarily violent in their beginnings, would produce no other effect but an augmentation of their desires, by ravishing the meanes from them; and only make them become more ingenious to sinne with subtilty and secrecy, not being permitted to doe it with impunity. The menaces, and punishments ordained for vi­ces, does make them indeed to be feared, but not hated. 'Tis a torrent pent in with banks, which breaks forth more impetu­ously, as soone as it can force the least pas­sage, and the effect subsisting no longer then the cause; the vertue which proceeds from rigour, and constraint can never last longer then their feare continues. From thence also there arises a greater inconve­nience: [Page]Which is, that the Sences finding themselves too ill intreated, conspire to­gether to shake off the burthen, and make a revolt, which soone overwhelmes the spi­rit, if it be weake, or cruelly agitates it if it makes resistance. There is no man who is not indued with some graces, and a genius peculiar to his generation: But in stead of knowing and polishing them, wee often stifle those naturall gifts, to acquire artifi­ciall ones, which not being conformable to the subject, are like grafted Trees, that ne­ver are long liv'd. Those vertues that are forced into any one, both against the incli­nation, and naturall instinct of the man, are like unto stranger Princes, whose Raignes are seldome peaceable, when they alter the Lawes of the Countrey. One must seeke to conforme with that good nature, which providence makes to shine in all its works, and without seeking other where for new plants, be content to cultinate diligently, and bring up those, which nature hath al­ready lodged in us.

This is that which he must carefully ob­serve, whom persons of Honour doe con­fide in for the education of their children. Those precious pawnes, in whom they, ha­ving sowed all their vertues, have also foun­ded all their hopes in them. I doubt not but he will in so faire a subject find matter ample enough for an easie glory: and his care will be recompenced with advantage, by the humour which will reflect upon him, from those illustrious actions, where­by they may one day signalize themselves in the world. Neverthelesse, the fertility of the soile, must not make him neglect the culture; rather the goodnesse of his nature should make him use a more diligent ob­servation in his conduct. Myrtles and Lawrels are tenderer then Oakes, and more sensible of the rugged winter weather, and Roses are sooner parched then Thistles. Vertuous inclinations doe ordinarily bor­der on vices, and alwayes draw defects in traine after them: which hinders them not from being blame-worthy, although they [Page]be marks and tokens of vertue. Generous natures doe encline, and bias towards luxe and vanity: Tender and affectionate, to love and softnesse; the calme and tranquill, to negligence and sloth: Active and fiery spi­rits, to levity and violence; the subtill, to sleights and malice; and good natures, to simplicity and innocency. 'Tis no small skill that must separate the Cockle from the pure graine; because the vertues created with us, are as was the world, before God had unravel'd the confusion; where the ele­ments, though enemies, lay mingled toge­ther, and their qualities, which make the harmony of the whole body, whose contra­rieties makes us behold the vicissitude of productions, accorded then together in one masse, which hid and conceal'd the diffe­tence of their beings. Even so before that reason has purified the qualities of our soules, we find vertues confounded together with vices, the spirit swimming in the bloud, and the Sences disputing for mastery with the will, untill time and the truth, [Page]comes to seperate this mixture, and pre­scribes each party its devoir, function and ranke; before which, we can only assist it tenderly and beare with it.

CHAP. II. Maximes to make good use of the naturall in­clinations, and turne them to good.

COnsidering him then, as man composed of body and spirit, he by a prudent mo­deration must endeavour to accord, as much as may be, the opposition of these two parts, and not rest so much upon the purity of the one, but that he yeeld somthing to the infirmity of the other; to avoid that interior combat, which disturbs the peace and tranquillity of our life. Which should oblige him to become extreme carefull to know him throughly; to marke all his pro­pensions, his motions, his aversions, and above all his genius, the strength and extent of his spirit and mind. Forasmuch as the [Page]knowledge of the winds, of compass, maps, and shelves, serves to a Pilot; and the skill of judging of the strengths, and weaknesse of a City is necessary to him that does be­siege it; So much does the art of obser­ving the dispositions of a young spirit pro­fit him in his directions. It is very difficult to assigne particular meanes, to make this observation, which depends rather upon the re-encounters, occasions, and prudence of him that governes, then on any universall principles. Neverthelesse, I shall say in the grosse, that he may remarke them, by temp­ting him diversly with all kinds of objects, without discovering at first to him the good, or evill included in them, and some­times suffering nature to worke and act of her owne selfe, thereby to see what she leads him to, and what she makes him either chuse or reject: Thus it was that Vlysses discovered Achilles his sexe, which he had so long concealed and disguised. A thou­sand occurrences reveale (to him that nar­rowly will observe it) what his temper is; [Page]which is likewise legible in his face, and may be guessed by his colour, maladies, ap­petite, his dreames, disposition, and agility, and by all the operations of each part of his body: Also, by his resentment of inju­ries, the shame he hath for his faults, the care he takes to preserve his honour, his desire to appeare, his jealousie of others, the heate and ardour which leads him to the ends he aimes at, his constancy and resolu­tion in difficulties, the manner of his owne government, the vivacity and promptnesse of his replies, and the strength of his reaso­ning and arguments. On all which he must often try him, and raise his spirits by de­lightfull objects, to keep him in exercise, and see his activity. In that tender age we beare a forme of what shall be when we come to virility; Like those Pictures, which being only rough-drawne, though they want that perfection and lustre which the last colours adds to them, yet they have the perfect shape, and all the lineaments that are necessary. So that what the pencill [Page]afterwards does, serves only to embellish it, being ever wrought exactly by the same stroakes. Of all the precepts that can be given on this subject, use and custome are the surest guides and meanes, to penetrate and dive into the very bottomes, and most secret recesses of those young soules, who having as yet not learned the art to dissem­ble, expose themselves to any curious search, and discover what their natures are by acting freely, and openly of themselves.

CHAP. III. The second Maxime, That his Governour must endeavour to winne him to embrace vertue out of a principle of affection, and not of feare; together with the meanes to pra­ctise it.

THe insight, and knowledge which he shall gaine by the precedent observa­tions, will shew him the place whereon he ought to build, to take his measures accor­ding [Page]to the dimensions of the ground-plot, and raise his edifice proportionably to his foundations. We have nothing, or but ve­ry little in us which may not be applyed to some good: All the works of God are good in themselves, we doe make use even of ve­nomous beasts for antidotes, and can extract a wholsome juice from the least herb that growes. All our motions are of themselves indifferent, they become good, or bad only by our meanes, and the use we make them serve for. Every one desires good, and per­fection, and that which causes so many to stray from it, is the different manner wher­by 'tis represented: The will never tends to evill, but only when the spirit and sences doe disguise it under the appearance, and flattering shape of some good, and never erres but by the ignorance, or malice of its guides. Vertue is so amiable, that there is no soule which can know it, and not be ena­mour'd with it, nor would vice be followed by any one, if it had not found out the art to counterfeit the other. The principall [Page]care consists in well illuminating the mind and spirit, from whom the will takes all its counsell; that Minister must be well instru­cted, that he may faithfully informe his Master. The will is a Prince which com­mands, but is neverthelesse counselled by his servants, the Orders and Edicts are made in his name, but his servants lay the plots and projects; 'tis he tends towards the objects, and applyes all the other pow­ers, to seeke out what he desires; but even those which serve it in its pursuits, doe ma­ster it in its deliberation. To these there­fore he should make his addresse, and when these are perswaded, the other is easily drawne after them.

There are many which cause young men to exercise themselves in vertuous actions with a kind of constraint, which makes them hate the end, even whilst they are tending towards it. Although the Oxen draw the plow, yet the yoke is hatefull to them, and how ever we say that use makes perfectnesse, and custome renders the most [Page]difficult things easie: I beleeve that to be truer in actions of the body, then those of the mind; whose essentiall liberty not being restrained but by some exteriour obstacle: either it endeavours to surmount it by force, or at least detests it, whilst it does un­dergoe it. One is not vertuous for doing that which is good, but for loving it, and that which we doe by constraint, is only imputable to the power which compels us. The heavens are not animated though they incessantly move, their motion comming from a cause that's separate, in their celerity we admire nothing but the Angels which first sets them going. When vertue engen­ders not in our hearts, but comes to us only from without, by some violent meanes, we possesse it only as a slave, who seekes but an occasion to escape, and not as our offspring borne of our owne bloud and substance. 'Tis a beauty which will be sought too, and wooed handsomely; that will command in us, and not be the servant of feare, bestow­ing her selfe only on those whose hearts she [Page]hath in full possession. If once we can but inflame a soule with a true love for her, all the little troubles of seeking and courting her, will be swallowed up in the ardour of its longing desires. One must endeavour therefore to render this vertue gratefull to him, by discovering all her perfection and amability, and heighten those by the defor­mity of her opposite, making him admire in others the glorious effects which she produces, and dread the shame, and confu­sion which inevitably follow all base igno­ble actions; One must often highly praise the handsome qualities of those he fre­quents, and as loudly blame the bad ones in his presence; So furnishing him from others, with good examples for himselfe, which he will more clearly behold, then he can in his owne person. For every fault he shall commit, you must be sure to make him ressent some trouble in his mind, as shame, contempt, repentance, blame, the privation of some pleasure, which being imprinted in his imagination, will make [Page]his actions become odious to him of its selfe: Whereas the punishments of the bo­dy passe more lightly, and cause nothing but indignation, or at most a servile feare, which does not make him detest his fault, but only dread the evill which followes. There are a thousand various means, which depend on the skill of him that shall under­take such a charge, which cannot be reduced to precepts, consisting only in finding out sweet, and cunning wayes to bring him to the detestation of vice, and a perfect love of vertue. This we may best bring to passe, by representing it with pleasing ornaments, advantages and circumstances proporti­onate to his inclination: And this first view will beget delectation, from thence will arise love, which creates desire, and de­sire will cause a diligent search and pursuit after vertuous actions, which will beget ha­bits without difficulty, or paine. He must have the patience to lead him up by all these steps and degrees, for otherwise too great hast may expose him to a fall, or at [Page]least run him out of breath in the midst of his race. He must also mixe, and temper his labours with some delights, and little complacencies, thereby to make him taste and swallow the profitable and pleasant to­gether. As we use to gild over pils for sicke persons, so he may easily passe his studies under his divertisements, and make use of his owne pastimes to instruct him; which will be farre more beneficiall to him, and not so soon distast him, as those grand con­tentions of mind, which leave behind them nothing but lassitude and vexation. Al­though the stomack be a part which works necessarily, yet it cannot endure those vi­ands which displease it, much lesse the mind which hath the liberty and choice of all things. In conversation one may even fill, and furnish his soule with wholesome things, and entertain him with solid dis­course, delicately seasoned, which deligh­ting shall yet soundly nourish him. A­mongst the exercises of youth, one may en­tice him to such, where the mind acts its [Page]part, where it aiguises and sharpens, and refines its selfe, or to others which harden, fortifie, and strengthen the body, making it become agile, active, and pliant to any use­full exercise. And in so doing, one must without discovery, make him avoid those that are childish, and superfluous. When he is bent to any thing that is evill, or use­lesse, one must cunningly and ingenuously change that appetite, without directly for­bidding, or flatly refusing him, by interpo­sing some more pleasing and solid objects, to divert his idea from that which is hurt­full to him under other pretences; either by deferring, or by feigning to consent to what he desires, and contriving some obsta­cle under hand which may hinder him, or permitting him sometimes to make triall of it, but withall so disposing of things be­fore hand, that he may receive some little displeasure thereby; that so the injoiment it self, of that which he unhandsomely desi­red, may serve for a pennance, and mortifi­cation, which causing a distaste, will make [Page]him avoid the like another time; but should one absolutely refute him, and not practise these little contrivances, it would but irri­tate and augment his desire. 'Tis the expe­perience and observation of all wise men, that the will and desire of man runs most greedily, and impetuously after forbidden things.

CHAP. IV Wherefore we doe most ardently and violently desire forbidden things.

I Beleeve the truest reason of it is, that the Will will not lose her right of liberty, it being the richest present shee brought from heaven with her. It may be likewise, because wee fancy, and imagine there is more beauty and secret perfection, in the object that is kept at distance from us. As Pictures shew handsomer afar off, then neer at hand; or else even as those things which we possess, do not tempt us; so those [Page]which we have not, excite our desire. A healthfull man, little minds his health, and learned men oft despise knowledge, (the full stomack loaths honie) whereas sick, or ignorant people, would covet, and envy so much happiness; and this happens because the sentiments require a certaine conveni­ent distance to act, and that which is with­in us, changes into our nature, and can no longer be the object of our appetite, but that which is at distance tempts us e­ver. If it bee any thing easily attain'd and conquer'd, it does not stir up any violent motion, because we do not fancy it so pre­cious, and even esteem it as good as our own already; being so facile to obtein. But if it be difficult and thorny, then it is that their irascible is moved, & stoutly resolves to pass through all obstacles. If it be the nature of the thing, that it be hard to be ac­quired, hee only labours in the search, and choice of means, without other trouble: But if those impediments be in himselfe, and that one forbids him to seek after that [Page]which he might easilie obtaine, then the conflict is greater, because he has to deale with his own passions, which comming to summon all his strength and forces, (as the natural heat against the outward cold) con­tends against his reason, and to oversway it, represents the forbidden object, with new and sweeter charmes then was before ima­gined. Let him bee carefull therefore in such like occasions, to temper his precepts judiciously, that the execution of them may not become troublesome, and with­draw him from those evils in such a man­ner, that he do not perceive the profitable constraint, which is put on him. If the ends hee tendeth towards, bee honest, but the means he uses unhandsome, one must trace him other paths out to obtein them, and without either opposing or clashing a­gainst his desires, find out some other dis­creet waies to stop, or hinder his miscarria­ges. If his aims be evill, yet it is not the best way roughly to refuse it, but rather reduce him to the necessity of not desiring it any [Page]more, without suffering the losse of some more gratefull pleasure. His passions must be set against his passiōs, that so those mon­sters may destroy each other, and by their mutual opposition, make a perfect counter­poise, which may restrain, and tie them up in a just and equall temper. As a knowing Pilot makes every wind to serve his need, by turning his sailes: So a skilfull man may apply al kinds of inclinations to some good. If he be carried to prodigality, one may moderate his too great profusion, by the same principle, shewing him, that by wasting, or bestowing too largely, hee de­prives himselfe of the meanes, and pleasure of giving often; and suffer him sometimes to reduce himselfe to the necessity of not having the meanes to do it, and at the same time, present some occasions thereof to him, to tempt him to it, which will shew him, that the excess of his liberality, makes him incapable to continue it; so this incli­nation shall make him reform himself, and this passion will destroy it selfe with its own weapons.

Aristotles counsell herein, seems to me, to be too violent, and of too difficult per­formance. The meanes, saies he, to cor­rect any of their excess; is to do actions that are contrary, or tending to a direct extre­mity of opposition: And thus, saies he the soule will of it selfe return to that just pro­portion, and mean, where vertue is placed; as a stick is made streight by bowing and bending it the contrary way. But the use of this precept is dangerous, and requires great wisdome, an accomplish'd judgement, and an undaunted courage. Truly hee that should treat young people thus, would ex­pose them to strange conflicts, and perhaps their senses thus ill used, might revolt a­gainst such tyrannie. It is good for such as can, to practise it of themselves; be­cause the violence which any one does to himselfe, is never so sensible, as that which proceeds from another; But to exercise it on those tender, and delicate bodies, would endanger breaking them, by bowing them so much. It is safer to prune, and soft­ly [Page]pare away the superfluities, and lure the soule back, by ingenuous diversions, yea, even by greater pleasures, and delights, then those we would deprive them of, or wean them from. If the youth will needs passe over a bog, do not hinder him, but lay a plank over it for him, that he may not be­mire, and soil himselfe: All this consists only in the manner of managing things; and there is sometimes more trouble in doing evill, then in doing good.

CHAP. V. The third Maxime, that hee must gaine the love of him he governs, and also love him tenderly againe.

HE may easilie obtaine all this, if from the beginning he endeavours to insinu­ate himselfe into his mind, and esteem, and seeks to gaine an intire beliefe, not by pow­er and authority only, to which reason, re­spect, and truth obliges all noble minds, but [Page]likewise by sweetness, and complaisance, and the marks of a strict, and cordial affecti­on which he must strive to establish reci­procally at the very first, as the foundation of all his future conduct. We find now adays that Polititians effect more by their secret intelligences, then by the number of their Souldiers; and strength of Arms. If he can once but knit a strict corresponden­cy with his heart, he will easily become Master of his desires, whereof that is the fountain. The heart is the Fort, or Citta­del which commands all the rest of that lit­tle World Man. Whoever conquers but that place, suddenly brings the rest into subjection; but though all the rest were subdued, yet if that stood out, he hath but an exteriour puissance, which shall never make him rule as Soveraign, though he may sometimes force him to complyance, or o­bedience. That Woman had no small rea­son, that vaunted that she govern'd the A­thenian Republick, because she entirely possessed her Husbands will, who bare the [Page]greatest authority. 'Tis the heart presides in the councel of our passions, and is that which produces all our desires. In that lies the spring of all our motions, 'tis the repo­sitary of our secrets, the primum mobile of all our actions, the last asleep, and first awake, all the affairs of man must pass through this office; and though wisdom, or reason do sometimes a little restrain its power; yet the senses are ever on its side, and being the head of a strong faction, it may cause many huge troubles, if it be provoked and stirred by irritations. As soon as the eyes receive the species of any object, they are immedi­ately presented to the heart by the imagina­tion, and the mind hath no share till after the other powers have tasted their fill. We must therefore first gain the heart if we will possess the whole man: by this means we shall not make him only delight, and esteem things present to be good, but he will take pleasure also to observe them. One may win something by the power of perswasion on a soul; truth well express'd does ever [Page]gain belief; but yet is not always followed. Words are but wind, as we use to say, they are only a sound, which cannot enter, un­less they find a passage ready open'd, but affection is a Character which penetrates through the heart, opens the door it selfe, and makes a deep impression. 'Tis a Prince which obtains an Empire so much the more absolute, by how much the obedience is more voluntary. It produces many good effects, in a person whom one governs: First, it makes him plyant, and submissive to all commands for fear of displeasing, and so for the faults he shall happen to commit, there will need no other punishment, but only to testifie a little froideur, or coldness of affection. Even as God punishes the offences of those he loves, by withdrawing part of his graces from them; that thereby their earnest desires to recover those bles­sings a gain, may reduce them to their de­voir again, and the fear of being deprived of them afterward may keep them so con­stantly for ever. Secondly, he will learn [Page]with far greater facility and ease what­soere shall be enjoined by a person whom he loves, because the delectation will be joined to the utility. Love is a puissant Master, having ever both the attention, and assiduity of his Disciples. The cause why young men learn with difficulty, is because their heart is as 'twere divided and diverted by exteriour objects, they cannot so easily rally their forces which stray without, and which are necessary to digest the nourish­ment which is infused in them; but when their affection adheres, and cleaves to him that governs, they suck, and greedily swal­low all his precepts, and that amity which makes things become semblable, and alike, and the means proportionate, produces al­so a certain communication of species, and conformity of manners, of sentiments of language, and of actions. As one may dis­cover in all such as do reciprocally affect one another. I beleeve the cause of it is, because one does carefully observe the acti­ons of those whom we wish well to; and be­cause [Page]we always think them noble, and thus considering them with some delight, they imprint themselves insensibly within us. Or else it is, because we frequent them oft­ner, and that constant society, does beget a conformity of habits; or in fine, because the will does of it self go forth, to joyn with the thing beloved, and even be transformed into it. In the third place, this affection will greatly incite, and prompt the young man to please him, to hear him, to beleeve and imitate him. The power of God must in the first place, reign most soveraignly, and absolutely over men: and in the next place that of Parents, and last of all the power and authority of those, who have the care and charge of our education, who are the fathers, as I may fitly call them, of our minds. 'Tis God is the first cause of our being, to which our Parents do contribute afterwards; bringing as 'twere the grosser materials, which being set up in a natural frame, are afterwards adorned, and furnish­ed by these our Tutors. And these must [Page]imitate God in all his conduct, since they immediately succeed him in his authority; Now the first thing God requires of men, is the heart; when we have given up, and per­fectly submitted that part to him, we find no more repugnance, or reluctancy in our obedience, whereas those who have no other object but the fear of punishments, or the hope of rewards, seldome attain to any high perfection. It is the same in moral things, if he that teaches them do not make him­self beloved, he will be followed but cold­ly: when we would obtain any thing from a great person, we make use of some plea­sing Advocate to mediate for us. The mind and will are absolute Monarchs, and will have us observe the same circumstan­ces and ceremony towards them. And the art of pleasing is a powerful motive to per­swade, and impetrate.

CHAP. VI. How we must make use of this Maxime.

HE must nevertheless mannage this bu­siness cautiously, and warily, lest he confound his respect with his tenderness, or lose his authority of reprehension by too much complaisance; 'Tis a great art to know how to accommodate love with ma­jesty, and join severity with sweetness, with­out too much softness. Amity requires a certain proportion which may oblige one to descend sometimes to youthful Senti­ments, which must be practised in such a manner, that they by degrees be elbow'd out, and manly ones implanted in their stead. When the Poets make Iupiter transform'd into a Bull, or the like, to communicate himself to his lovers, they yet always leave some marks & foot-steps of his divinity un­der those shapes. When Painters make the portraicture of any one in small, they have [Page]a care to keep all the dimensions proporti­onable to the face, and body they mean to represent, though in a far less volume. And when God himself, through his immortal goodness was pleased to give himself to men, and illuminate them with his own brightness, which was before wrapt up in such thick Clouds; knowing they were but children whom he would instruct, and whom the Father had committed to his educati­on, he would not appear in lightning and thunders, nor in the lustre of his greatness, which would have dazled and blinded them, in stead of enlightning them; but he became like unto them, and made himself sensible, that he might enter into their spirits by their senses, and yet his divinity kept its grandeur, and ful majesty, in this lowest hu­mility, & abasement. Governours of young men, are Gods Lievtenants in this functi­on, and as he became man, to teach men, so they must in some, sort imitate Children, whilest they instruct them, alwayes ac­commodating themselves to their age, [Page]sometimes soothing their humours, and stooping to them, but having still an eye and ear to make them reap some benefit from all their actions, and thoughts, ever raising their minds insensibly to higher things, and making their own sentiments the staires whereby they must climb up to true perfection. But yet he must not lose his authority by this complyance. When a man will take some great burthen on his back, he stoops to take it, and then he not onely raises himself again, but bears up the weight that is laid on; In the same man­ner ought he to appropriate and fit himself to his charge, and presently when he is established, and become absolute Master of his mind, and will, he must advance to his own posture again, and raise the youth up with him to higher, and nobler things.

'Tis an old Proverb, that familiarity breeds contempt; and 'tis also a most cer­tain experience, that gravity takes off con­fidence, and affection. But he that can pre­serve a familiar Majesty, that can please [Page]without flattery, reprove without offence, subject without alienating, exercise with­out wearying, and recreate without de­bauching; such an one will illuminate the soul, conquer the heart, and find every pow­er, and faculty ready prepared to receive any good impression.

CHAP. VII. Three things which hinder the respect, and a­mity of young men towards their Gover­nours.

THere are three things which hinder one from preserving amity, and re­spect in a young spirit. The one comes from without, when the Tutor is not ho­nour'd, and esteemed by the Parents, Do­mesticks, Friends, or compagnons of him he governs. Examples are a living Book, whose Characters easily imprint themselvs in him that reads them. Exterior things are very powerful on any soul, but princi­pally [Page]on those who as yet do not act but by the counsel of their senses, who having not yet their own sentiments fully perfected in them, are constrained to rely on the judg­ments of others in whom they confide. The second hinderance proceeds from the natu­ral inclination of youth, who being promp­ted to their own pleasures, abhor, and detest all that restrain, or impede them; which makes them look on their Governors, as the disturbers of their repose, and enemies of their delights and sensualities, which im­mediately breeds aversion in them. And this is the more difficult to overcome, be­cause it is more natural, and youth is gui­ded, and conducted at first meerly by nature, who bandies against all that is opposed to her. That which causes distempers, and maladies in the body is the contrariety of such qualities which are incompatible, and this also works the same effects in our man­ners, and produces love, or hatred, accor­ding as the objects are conformable, or con­trary to its propensions. He must study [Page]therefore to overcome this obstacle, and not have nature for his enemy at the first. But make a dissembled agreement with her, to deceive her with the more advantage. The third proceeds from the Governor himself, when either by indecent actions, or vicious habits, he loses the authority annexed to his charge, by such defects in his own per­son. There is no better Art whereby to gain esteem, then to become worthy of such esteem; Respect is a tribute which vertue commands, and acquires even from those that hate it. Those that possess it need use no Arts, nor false Grimaces, she always keeps her own Majesty, and is revered by the greatest powers, though she cannot make her self be always beloved. Let him be careful therefore to deserve honor, and obe­dience, rather then to exact it. If he will bring these fruits forth in his disciple, he must have the root of it to grow within himself. The honour of a Prince, if foun­ded only in the number, and strength of his guards, is but a vain appearance in his sub­jects, [Page]and as such an one hath no true Maje­sty, but only a few outward pomps, and gawdy shows, so neither is he truely re­spected, or observed, but onely with a re­taliation of seeming devoirs, and flattering outward gestures. That Tutor who hath no gravity but in his words, and threats, gaines no more obedience, then his disciple is capable of fear. If he do any ignoble acti­ons, he pulls down all that his discourse, or teaching had built, and even tempts, and invites the youth to imitate him, if what he did were pleasing and voluptuous, or expo­ses himself to laughter, and derision if his actions were ridiculous.

CHAP. VIII. Of Pedants, and their several kinds.

IT happens very oft, that those who have not any qualities whereby to render themselves commendable, will seek to gain authority by an affectation of wisdom, a [Page]haughty countenance, or an imperious ac­cent, not speaking but with disjointed words, or else extending to a prolixity of discourse, as if they did preach, pronoun­cing their follies like rare sentences. The poor youth who hears, but understands them not, is more confounded, then instru­cted by his precepts; and as those things which displease do easily distast, from this disgust they come to slight such things, and from this slighting there arises hatred, which does encrease if they strive to use force: This they endeavour to remedy by harsh means, or ruder stripes, and so lose their power by too much using of it, or if they meet a docile spirit, they make it by such unhandsome treatments to become dull, and degenerate. They commit ano­ther fault, which has ruined many persons of fair hopes, and promises, and that by order­ing, & proportioning, or disposing of things according to their own nature, and not to the capacity of him they govern. Like a Taylor that should take measure of his own [Page]body for another mans cloaths, or as a Phy­sician who over loving Bacchus his sucking bottle himself, should prescribe Wine to another man in the height of a burning Fe­ver. They will reform the subject they are working on, in stead of conforming them­selves to his ability. It must be his care that instructs to prepare fit precepts for him that is to learn. It is much easier to change the Lessons, then to alter his under­standing. When a Glove is too strait, we must not cut, or pare away the hand, but choose another Glove that better fits it.

These faults proceed from three different causes, which makes three sorts of Pedants. The first is want of judgment, and that is essential, and incorrigible, and such kind of people should never undertake to govern others, wanting indeed the skill to rule, and govern themselves. Those have this un­happinesse that they do every thing out of time, and never keep a due regularity, or e­quality in their actions, if they reprove, 'tis [Page]not without excess, and outrage, if they Praise 'tis without discretion, they refuse what they should grant, and permit what they should forbid; sometimes they di­late the Spirit by too great a licence, and otherwhile depress, and restrain it by ex­cess of rigour, and wanting a foundation of firm, and solid principles they do good, or evil only by hap-hazzard.

CHAP. IX. Second kind of Pedants.

THe second kind, is of such who are truly full of knowledge, and also have some colour, and tincture of vertue, but they want that experience which is the true, and only guide, for having never ap­plyed themselves but only to the contem­plation of high notions, they find them­selves but Novices, when they come to acti­on. They have brave Idea's, and speculati­ons of many things, which like Plato's [Page]Common-wealth, can never be put in pra­ctise. They speak only out of Books, and reason altogether with others Arguments; and though they are not ignorant of what they should do, yet how to do any thing re­quired, they are to seek for. They will produce myriads of examples, and pre­cepts, but not one that is expedient. If you ask them counsel, they will give you Seneca's or Plutarchs, they are more knowing in the intrigues of Caesar, and Pompey, then in those of England, France, or Spain. They have studied replies, for al sorts of complements, which they use without choice, or distincti­on, and are forc'd to tye up their tongues in a more becoming silence, when that bor­rowed store is exhausted. These most or­dinarily do every thing indiscreetly, and unhandsomly, when they think to stroke they scratch, and spend themselves in use­less labours; for they being only Copies, and not having any thing of their own stock, are perpetually constrained to beg, and borrow from the dead, those same things [Page]which they distribute amongst the living, and must still have a consultation with their Authors, and Masters, before they can in­struct their disciples. And therefore we must not wonder if their carriage be often as ridiculous as the change of times, and customes is various through the world.

CHAP. X. The third kind of Pedants.

THe third sort, or kind, are the half learned, to whom there cleaves much presumption, and self conceit: they are great talkers, lovers of their own opini­ons, enemies of whatever comes from o­thers, rude, and violent in their conversati­ons, testy, despisers, and melancholy. These kind of creatures should be excluded, not only from the conversation of all young people, but even from all humane society. They will shew themselves to be of eminent parts, wherever they appear, alwayes stri­ving [Page]to be above others by their extravagan­cies. Of these three sorts, the first is dan­gerous, the second unprofitable, the last troublesome, and importunate. The one guides not the judgement aright, the other confounds and intangles it, and the third displeases, and distastes it: It is almost the same with young, and delicate imaginati­ons, and desires, as with great bellied Wo­men, who mark the fruit of their Wombs, with impressions of those objects that are most exposed to their sight, according as they fancy, or delight in them, for which ma­ny douse to place the sweetest, & most plea­sing objects they can before them, that so beholding, and considering nothing but what is lovely, they may conceive hand­some, and rare Ideas. A mind that is not beforehand accustomed to any habits, does easily take the print, and form of those acti­ons which it sees much practised by those he does frequent, and whom he much af­fects. That which most ordinarily makes children resemble their fathers, is not so [Page]much the blood, and grosser substance, which is of it self indifferently apt for any figure, but the mothers lively apprehensi­on, in whom the image of her husband is commonly more strongly imprinted, then any other. The Governour is Father of the young mans mind, and spirit, the ima­gination which receives all the species, and images of objects is the mother, who pro­pounds nothing to the understanding, but what she sees most frequently acted, and which most pleases her.

CHAP. XI. Of the qualities of good Governours.

IT is necessary therefore to have a man, who besides his sweetness of nature, and vertuous habits, which are essentially re­quisite in such a charge, must have also a good garb, and accort carriage in his acti­ons. A mildnesse, and facility of speech, ingenious mind and visage, modesty, plea­singness, [Page]complaisance, civility, discretion, a manly, yet humble and discreet confi­dence, and above all perfect intelligence of the things of the world, which concern the active life, which consists in knowing, or finding out the nature, and propensions of every one, and framing, or accommoda­ting himself to them without baseness, or flattery; in being vers'd in the Modes, and Manners of the times present, and the cu­stomes of the places he resides in, in beha­ving himselfe discreetly amongst either great persons, or his own equalls, or his inferiours, in speaking, and being silent in season, in being prudent and foresighted in judging, and comming off fairly in com­pany without any affectation of vain para­do's, or applause, in finding quick and sub­tile expedients, to disengage himself from a bad business, and having a Magazin, or store of prudence, and courage to make use of in time of particular intrigues, and ren­contres which fall out too often in this un­happy age. As for those other qualities [Page]which concern the soul, piety, probity, erudition, wisedom, and goodness, I do not bring these into the list, because they are to be supposed in him, as foundations absolutely necessary without which all the rest would fall to ruine; and if it seem dif­ficult to meet a man compleated with all these parts and gifts, at least one must chuse a person as neer this model as 'tis possible, and though he have not all these perfecti­ons, yet at least let him be free from the de­fects that are opposite to them, and so be in some capacity to attain them.

CHAP. XII. Of the most ordinary defects, which breed in young people.

HE will at first find work enough which nature hath prepared for him; for a young soul how noble, or high soe're it be, is ever full of many defects which he must weed out carefully in the be­ginning [Page]before he cast the good seed in it. They are so many dispositions contrary to vertue, which must be rid thence, before you can bring him to a right posture. As before grace can be received, we must be throughly purged from fin. The most common are stubbornness, sloath, self-love, credulity, aversion from all labour, levity, immodesty, depraved appetites, and seve­ral others, of which some are born with us; others are communicated by contagion, which often succeed one another, and are ready to spring up afresh in the rooms of those we had newly rooted out thence. He must be very wary, and gentle in his pro­ceedings, having an eye to the causes, qua­lities, and circumstances of the defects. If they be absolutely vicious, as certain base, and unworthy inclinations, they must be opposed with more rigour then others need to be, and be rendred as odious, and hate­ful as 'tis possible, he must shew how ill-fa­voured they appear in others, and strive to divert him from such thoughts by other im­ployments, [Page]causing him to undergo some shame, reproach, or disdain if he fall foul on them again, drawing him by degrees to actions that are quite contrary, in which he may find both delight, and honour. And if they be of those little imperfections which are incident to that tender age, and not to their nature, they must be managed more delicately, and sometimes even win­ked at: as being the signs, and tokens of spi­rit, and wit, which may be turned into ver­tues, if they be judiciously wrought upon, and directed to good ends.

CHAP. XIII. Three meanes to correct our evil inclinations.

PHilosophers assign three means to cor­rect our selves: the one is to fly from those objects, to which we are allured; the second is to oppose, and combat our passi­ons one with another: and the third is to assault them openly by meet strength of [Page]reason. The first of these is neither gene­rous, nor alwayes effectual; because we happen oft to meet that which we think to fly from, nor is that the way to strike to the root of the evil. Chi é ferito nel cuore in van si fugge. The second is not vertuous, though it be utile. The third is more He­roick and noble, but likewise 'tis more difficult. The best meanes, is to blend, and apply all these three together with discreti­on, according as the exigency requires. Sometimes they must be diverted, and dis­pel'd by the lustre, and clear light of truth, by the charming beauty of vertue, and the loathsome deformity of vice; other times by shunning its sight and rencontre, and now and then excluding them by entertain­ing some other honest pleasures, which may thrust them quite out of doors. When we would weaken an enemy, we create divisi­ons amongst them. So must we likewise do by our passions, cast in the apple of discord and let them be destroyed, one by another. The desires of Glory, and Honour hath [Page]stifled the motions of sensuality in many breasts. The love of Women has often made a narrow covetous heart to become liberal, yea prodigal; But he must have a mighty care to hinder that passion that is Victor from triumphing over the liberty of the soul, lest it should erect an absolute ty­ranny there. Nor must we utterly extin­guish the passions, but only tame, and mo­derate their excess: for they are vicious on­ly in as much as they exceed; and being brought to a just, and even temper, they be­come instruments of vertue, and make the soul act with the more life and vigour.

CHAP. I. Three sorts of corporal habitudes.

THe corporal habits are of three sorts, some consist of interiour actions, and the conformity of the body with the superi­or part, by means of which it obeys, and submits without repugnance to whatever reason prescribes, even against, or contra­ry to its own appetites. These are not ac­quir'd [Page]but through long use and practice, and are the perfection, and consummation of mans wisedom. The second have ano­ther object, and look not so much to the soul, as upon its union with the body, both which naturally desire their own preserva­tion. By these a man uses to restrain, and deprive himselfe of all those things that might hasten his end, or discompose his health. And because young people through want of knowledge, of care, and of power to govern, and curb themselves, do easily yield to such things as do them hurt, and because the same nature which gives them the instinct to preserve their health, does likewise give them an appeti [...] to follow that which does destroy it. Therefore those that have them in their charge must wisely supply those little defects of their age, cha­rity managing so precious a jewel; not that I would take away the use of all things that are pleasing, or offend nature whilest I in­tend to protect it, nor make that life unhap­py which I would prolong: no, I would [Page]only pare away what is superfluous. That which is necessary, is never hurtful, and what is excessive, can never be necessary. Nature, sayes Seneca, is content with a lit­tle, one may easily satisfie it, opinion hath never enough, because it hath no bounds, or limits, but still leaps from one desire to another. Let us therefore allow nature what she ought to have, and take from opi­nion what we ought not to give it. This is a vertue essential to an honest man, which I place amongst those of the body, not that it proceeds not from the empire of the soul: But because it terminates primitive­ly in the body, and tends to take away the means of annoying the spirit & life. I place this not only in the moderation of eating & drinking, but universally in the abstinence, from all excess and disorder, which decayes the body, over-clouds the spirit and mind, enervates the strength and force, invades the health, shortens the life, and makes the soul to become a slave to its own lust, and pleasures. I am willing one should taste of [Page]innocent enjoyments; but not that they should enjoy, and enchain us. We should make use of them as Princes do of their Buffoons, whose counsel they never take, nor ever call them into their presence, but when they mean to lose an hour, or two in pastime. Of all kinds of excess that of the mouth is the most shameful, and prejudi­cial: for being gross, and material, it makes a man all flesh, and blood; and, as all that is superfluous in us, turns into such hu­mors which are most predominant. If we are melancholy, it breeds and amasses black humors, encreases choler, and inflames the blood; and so of others the like; and therefore we thereby do but lend weapons to our passions to make a civil war in our own bosomes, or heap up fewel on those flames that shall consume us. From thence arise those gross vapours which climb into our brain, making us dull, and heavy, un­quiet, testy, and sometimes depriving us even of the liberty of its functions. And this begets also another unhappiness which [Page]is that we accustome, and subject our selves so much to superfluous things, that being changed into habits, they become at last altogether necessary to us. Which is a reason why great persons, who are wont to live more delicately then others, are much more to be pitied when reduced to necessi­ty, standing in need of much more then na­ture of her self does want for her conversa­tion. Cato feared the sobriety of Caesar more then his courage. 'Tis that which made him indefatigable in his labours, as fortune made him invincible to his enemies. He eat little, laboured much, went on foot in the front of his Armies, bare-headed in the most scorching heats of Summer, and the most biting Winter frosts. He used his body to all hardships, and inconveniencies, and gave it no more repose then what was needful to continue his labour: But above all 'tis noted that he drank very little wine. Those who cannot imitate him, I shal coun­sel them at least to follow him as neer as they can; if they mean to succeed him in [Page]his glory. This vertue must be acquired by degrees, and steps, using the body by lit­tle and little to be deprived of its ease, or at least not to be subject to it. This in­deed cannot be practised without using a kind of violence to nature. But being for its good, there should be no complaint, since the remedy though it be harsh is salu­tary.

The third sort are touching the body and exteriour actions, consisting in exer­cises, which are ordinarily taught the young Nobility, for which having particular Ma­sters, the Governor need to have no other care, but to make him be assiduous, and di­ligent, and to make him to love those exer­cises, in such sort, that he do not thereby draw off his affection from higher and more noble things, but esteem of them as his divertisement, not his imployment. For those are no fundamental qualities, nor do they make a man commendable of them­selves, but only in as much as they direct him towards vertue, and are joined to the [Page]divine graces of his mind and spirit, espe­cially in men of great quality, who will not take any profession, and should only scorn to be altogether ignorant of them. In this rank I place riding the great horse, fencing, musick both of voice, and instru­ments, dancing, vaulting, plausibility of speech, a graceful garb, and accort carri­age, a handsome mind and presence, and all other such like qualities which only con­cern his behaviour, and comeliness of acti­on, which indeed one should endeavour to have, but never propound them as the highest aime, or perfection, but as orna­ments, and embellishments fitting for men of rank and quality. For as great persons never put all their estates in Jewels, and ornaments, so neither must we make our capital and foundation of such vertues, which may be common to vitious persons. Neither must we despise them; because they are handsome additions, and little heightnings, which sets off the lustre of the soule, with greater advantage, and admi­ration. [Page]The best Maxime I can give to gain these, and to do all things compleat­ly, is to do them without constraint, or af­fectation, with a natural assurance, and an ingenuous confidence, imploying all on [...]s art, to hide that art from open view. But above all not to brag of any thing, whatso­ever advantage one may have above others. For in that instant that we make a shew of knowing much, and doing things well, or having a good opinion of our selves, we gain the disesteem of all others. It is ex­tream good likewise to frequent such per­sons very often, whose manners, and acti­ons are pleasing, which without labour will insensibly inspire the gesture, and be­haviour into our imaginations, and that without either affection, or studied po­ [...].

CHAP. II. The Governors second end and care, touching the soul, divided into two parts, the Inferi­our, and Superiour.

THe Second, and principal end, and aim of the Governor, is to dress and cultivate the soul, which we consider two wayes, according to the divers functions it does exercise. First, as it imagines, re­ceives, retains, and digests the species com­ming from the senses. Secondly, as it rea­sons, and deliberates. The first is com­pos'd of three powers, which require an exact care: for from those all the defects, or perfections of man do ordinarily pro­ceed, viz. from the imagination, common sense, and the memory: The first of these must be regulated in its designes, disorde­red agitations, its false apprehension of ob­jects, and above all vulgar opinions, which consist in admiring too facilely, acting by [Page]custome and by example, embracing the judgement of others, passionately siding with parties, loving, hating, praising, bla­ming without good grounds, entertaining opinions, becoming refractory, and easily relishing, and favouring the passions, and interests of others, judging and censuring all things, and a thousand other such like weak­nesses, which arise from the imbecillity, or laziness of the imagination, which had ra­ther rely, and trust the reports of others, then take the pains to present every thing to the judgment to examine them through­ly. He must be careful therefore to fit and fraight the imagination with good, and choice things, maintain it in a liberty of considering and weighing every thing, ap­plying it to solid things, and shewing him the vanity of those objects it apprehends, and falsely admires. This power and facul­ty, hath one great defect, which is that it represents things greater then they are, and often abuses the mind and will, making them beleeve and desire that which is false [Page]and evil. He must endeavour earnestly to enlighten this, and restrain that impetuosi­ty, which does oversway, and biass it, and makes it rove and wander, and this he must fix on what it does, and mingle some plea­sure with all its occupations that it may stil be present, for having some pleasing end, it will wholly apply it selfe thereto, and not be scattered, and parcel'd towards so many several objects at the same time.

CHAP. III Of common sense, and the memory.

THe second, which is the commonsense, is a peece of great importance. 'Tis that which purifies, disgests, and ranges all the species in a prepared readiness for the mind, and judgement. One must therefore be very careful to teach him all things with an easie method, and a certain order, that may make him see every thing clearly, and not entangle and perplex him, strengthning [Page]him with universal principles, which may serve him for a foundation, by no meanes confounding, or puzling him with multi­tudes of precepts, and lessons: But by a sweet succession make him pass from one step to another, raising him by degrees from the lowest, to the highest things, and using him betimes to observe the like order in all his actions, and to sustain himself upon firm principles. This contributes very much to judgement and discourse, and is extream necessary, as well for the acquisi­tion of profound Sciences, as for the ordi­nary conduct of ones life.

The third which is Memory, hath been slighted, and despised by many men. Se­neca makes but smal account of it, yet there are others that approve, and improve it as much as possible. To me it seems very use­ful: as Barns and Cellars to those that will buy provisions of Corn and Wine. I con­fess, according to that Idea which they pro­pound of an austere Savage, and unsociable Wisdom which some affect, it is not so [Page]considerable to them. But for such as will tame, and familiarize Vertue, and Sciences, and make them enter into our common commerce, and conversation, such ought to make good provision of things laying up a store in the cells, and repositories of their memory, to make use of upon occasion, it being needful for them to know how peo­ple lived in times past, as well as what the Modes of the times present are. It is parti­cularly requisite for those that intermeddle with affairs of State, either in Peace or War. It playes its part in all occurrences, and ought still to accompany the Judge­ment, as the Secretary that hath the keep­ing of all its registers, and does first pro­pound all the subjects on which a man is to act: It is requisite likewise for the facility, and elegancy of discourse, to provide fit, and apt words whereby to express our thoughts quaintly, without grating the ears of the hearers, by disjointed and harsh words, which seem as they were drawn like a bucket out of a deep well, and yet run like [Page]a kennel, whose little stream follows in a continual succession, without the least in­terval till it is quite dry. This is one of those exterior qualities which indeed ren­ders a man more grateful, and is somewhat rare in these days. We find many that have merit and sufficiency enough, and yet are so unhappy in this particular, that like large bottles with narrow necks, there comes no­thing from them but drop by drop. Others have a great facility in speaking ill, both importuning, and stopping those ears that listen to them. These are not content to be sots only, unless all the world know it; if they have a story to relate, they must needs make its beginning rise with the be­ginning of the world, and then they dwell so long upon frivolous circumstances, that they are insensibly drawn to other matters, into which they hop, like birds from branch to branch, and sometimes in the very midst of their relation they wander so far from the subject they had in hand, that they are forc'd to seek about for it again, as the young lad [Page]did for his Fathers Asses: Others to raise themselves above the vulgar, esteem it too mean for them to use the same words as their Servants do, coyn many new ones, and for fear they should speak like others, they use a canting Jargon which none can under­stand without an interpreter. A young man must fashion himself betimes to a good dialect, his language must be smooth, intelligible, significant, and as concise as possible can be without obscurity. To which three things are necessary; a promp­titude, or swiftness of thoughts, an abun­dance of choice words, and language, and apt disposition to it. The first requires the presence, and vivacity of imagination. The second a strong retentive memory: The third, a clean and able common sense. Such as have these three gifts, have a great advantage above others. Nevertheless art, and study may bring a man to these, though of himselfe he have but little inclination to them. To this end, one should be instru­cted from infancy, when we are most apt [Page]to retain, and when these powers are com­monly most vigorous. Caesars eloquence is attributed to his Mother Aurelia. Shee spake her language purely, and by her con­tinual converse imprinted that neat and flu­ent language, in him which we so much ad­mire in all his writings. The young Gen­tleman, should therefore have one by him, that knows all the beauties and graces of speech, which he must teach him in all his conversation, not only pointing out his faults, but instructing him in the quaint­nesse he must use in his discourse; and al­so exercising him by writing letters on all kinds of subjects, which will be a means to compleat him in his stile, and language.

CHAP. IV. Of reading, and other means to help the memo­ry.

REading does much enlarge and open the understanding, and make the memory [Page]fruitful in good words. But the Governor must make choice of books for him, and then let him form and shape his stile of himself, without tying, or obliging him to any example: For discourse, and writing being the images of the soul; every one ex­presses his thoughts differently according to his own genius, which if it be made sub­ject to another, will appear full of con­straint, and affectation. 'Tis no matter how he speaks, or writes, so he do it well: And the best rule that one can give him, is to let him see how others have spoken, and then let him do, as he shall judge best himself.

Another means and help to improve the memory; is to exereise it often, and ac­custome it daily to retain somewhat, not to use in a vain ostentation; but to feed it with good nourishment, which by little and lit­tle changes into our own proper nature, and enlightens the mind to improve, and heigh­ten those conceptions which we gather, and cull from others, and keeps the memory from decaying for want of exercise. And [Page]to this purpose the Governor must be of ingenious, as to whiten two walls with one brush. That's to say, that since the store­house must be filled, let him take care that it be not toyes and trumpery, or which is yet worse, sordid ordure; but let them be useful, and excellent things, which may one day serve to assist his judgement, when he shall come to that maturity, as to know how to manage them. Young men are ordi­narily set to learn Horace, Martials Epi­grams, Cicero's Epistles, and other such like things, but I would not have him dwell too long upon those, nor vainly fit that place with them, which is ordained for more no­ble treasures. There should be nothing hoarded up, which may not be beneficial in its time, and therefore there must be a great regard to the quality, and condition of him that is to be taught, and to the pro­fession he intends to follow afterwards, thereby to teach and instruct him in such principles as are fit, and laying them up in his memory, even before he throughly [Page]comprehends them, by reason of his youth. These are such provisions, and preparati­ons, as are requisite to be made ready for the judgment, against it begins to act; that so it may find all the materials rightly dispo­sed, according to the design before resolved on; But above all things he must be fur­nished amply with wholesome, and sage do­cuments, both for his society, manners, and the actions of his life. And when these three powers shall be thus brought, and ranked in their just posture, it will not be difficult to raise the soul to a high pitch of know­ledge and understanding, and to enflame the will with an ardent love of true honour. There is no more to do, but only to elect, amongst the great number of things, which may be known, those which are most pro­per and suitable to his birth and and condi­tion; and life being very short, and scien­ces infinitely many, he must take measure of the necessity which nature hath imposed on us; and not being able to attain to the knowledge of all, chuse those which are [Page]most utile, and most excellent.

CHAP. V. Of true Piety, and solid discourse.

THe first peece wherewith he must be armed, and furnished; is that true, and essential Piety, which is the foundati­on of all other vertues, and the path to our maine, and last end, without which all o­ther perfections are but vain appearances, and false Diamonds, which have indeed a little glistering likeness, but want the true lustre, worth and value of the true beauteous Jewel. 'Tis that which will conduct us to soveraign perfection, which renders us pleasing to God, and to men, which makes our lawful designs prosper, and shields us, or rather takes away the jurisdiction of for­tune. Let him therefore be assiduously care­ful above all things, to plant and water the seeds of Religion, as he made promise at his Baptism, and let him endeavour to disco­ver, [Page]in all the things he beholds the gran­deur, and wonders of his God; let him ac­custome, and use himself betimes, in the days of his youth, to invoke and adore him on all occasions, and knit himselfe so close­ly to him, that no power in this world may be able to divide, and separate him. There are some who fancy an incompatibility be­twixt God and the Court, and beleeving the soul is indivisible, think it impossible to be shared betwixt those two Masters. But this is easie to be reconciled, if we consider God, as the chief and highest end, towards whom, and in whom all our actions must tend, and center, and look on the Court as the circle wherein we must run, and the Theater on which we must act our parts. Though all the sphears follow, and obey the primum mobile; that hinders not, but they at the same time do move in their own sphears; we may submit to this first cause, and yet act in the world. Those abuses, and bad examples which are in Courts, are not in the nature of them, nor by instituti­on: [Page]they crowd in there by force, and re­main there without establishment, and if a soul be guided aright, it still find more cause to admire the providence, and good­nesse of God, then occasions to offend him. The ancient Fathers found the Divel in the deserts. He ranges about Cloisters, Cells, and secret meeting places; and as vertue hath no confined abode, but presents it selfe to any invitation; So neither is vice limi­ted, nor hath any setled dwelling, but ne­stles into every corner where 'tis entertain­ed, or softly cherished. How brave a thing it is to see a young man, of great quality, make an open profession of Piety, and be studious, and careful to keep his soul pure, and untainted, from the soyl, and leprous spots of sin. What man can refuse his re­spect, and affection, to him that pleases his God? And what is he not able to perform, when he that can do all things is his friend, and counsellor? I speak not of that morose and servile devotion, which apprehends God, more then it loves him, and never [Page]considers him, but as a Judge. Such a vertue, if it deserve that noble name, proceeds only from a base timorous soul, and lasts no longer then the dread and fear possesses them. I have known many, that have been very precise, and retired in their greener years, having the image of hell e­ver before their eyes, and being in their thoughts surrounded with a legion of divels still ready to torment them, as soon as they should have committed but the least pecca­dillio; and yet lusts, and sensual pleasures did delight, and tickle their hearts, and thoughts, but they durst not adventure to taste them, because they feared the punish­ments. By little and little they began to fortifie and encourage themselves against these apprehensions, and seeing others sin without death, or visible danger; they ad­ventured at last to imitate them, and in a short space left most others behind them, in their unhappy progresse to damnation. So that this vertue, which arises only from a servile fear, may be fitly compared to [Page]those golden Apples, guarded by Dragons, which were soon lost, when the ugly Dra­gons were defeated. I mean, therefore a true solid Piety, whereby a man loves God out of a pure principle of esteem, because he is absolutely good, and perfect, and con­tinues thus, till he by his especial grace vouchsafes to turn that esteem into tender­nesse, and higher flames of heavenly love and zeal, and fear to offend him, as we fear to displease those whom we entirely love, and not onely as we apprehend to oppose that power which we dread. To bring him to this, he must be led and guided with sweetnesse, by facile, and honest means, which may neither breed repugnance, or wearinesse in him; and not impose devoti­on as a yoak, but invite him to it, as a means to set his soul at rest, and calm his passions with tranquillity, arming him against all accidents, and alluring all hearts, and af­fections to him. By discoursing frequent­ly of the immense goodnesse, and mercy of God, making him delight in the sweet mu­sick [Page]of a quiet, and pure conscience, shew­ing him good examples, entertaining him with little, but often repeated acts of Pie­ty, furnishing him incessantly with high and sacred thoughts of this real good, hand­somely preventing any thing that might divert him, and reaping some profit, and advantage of every little accident that in­tervenes, by making him admire Gods pro­vidence in them all; and all this with a cer­tain method, which neither is Bigot, nor scrupulous.

CHAP. VI. Of Modesty.

FRom this root of Piety, Modesty will spring up, which is one of the most de­sirable, and amiable things, and yet one of the rarest that is amongst men, especially such as are of high births. It consists in words, and in actions; and I esteem it al­together necessary for any man, that will [Page]perform great actions. It wins mens hearts, which are the springs, and engins, whereby difficult things must be executed: it begets a familiar confidence immediately in those that treat with us, when they behold a friendly, and ingenuous countenance, which neither stoops to soft affected cares­ses, nor wanders after apish, ridiculous fan­faronneries, but carries an even temper. For men use to give little credit to those that overflow in the mouth; above all one should never speak of ones selfe, neither good nor ill; for fear of being disproved, or avowed; the vertue of that man will be thought very little, that's forc'd to trum­pet forth his own praises. He should pro­claim, and make himselfe known by his brave actions, and not feign it by specious words. It hath its defect, and its excesse. The proud have changed it into gravity, and the effeminate into softnesse. The one is full of vanity, as much as the other, and they differ onely in that they take divers ways to seek the same false glory; the one [Page]exacting it as a tribute, the other begging it as an almes. To find a mean, and keep the right path, we need but to observe this, we must render our selves worthy of all honor, and not trouble our selves with others, if they do not pay that honour to us, which we justly deserve, for this being above our reach, and disposing, and depending on the fancies of others, we must be content that we at least deserve it, though we do not receive it. He that wou'd never come to be despised, let him do nothing that is un­handsome, and let him neither become de­pendent on another through vain hope, nor tyranny over any, because of higher abili­ties. There are other particular means which must be taught young men, as to know perfectly all the civilities, ceremo­nies, modes, and customes, which men have invented, and do practise, according to the places, birth, and dignities of every one; teach the youth also to receive every one courteously, and to send them away well satisfied, to know the difference of [Page]every one, their interests, and passions, thereby to behave himselfe with judgment accordingly, and to acquire a free, and uni­versal spirit, which may put it selfe into a­ny form, and shape, comply with any hu­mour without constraint, or affectation. Which he may easily do, if he first free himselfe from the vanity, and love of his own opinions. Let him fit his discourse to his own, or the companies capacity, and conform it to the time present, using no studied complements, but speaking modest­ly, and indifferently. There are some who embrace the first commer, use the same ca­resses to all the world, and through a facili­ty of promising, reduce themselves to the necessity of deceiving. He should be re­formed betimes of all bash-full shame, and train'd up to a generous confidence, so that he be not subject to a timorous com­plaisance, but either grant, or refuse, with a courteous boldnesse, and make a handsome retreat in any dangerous occasion, to which many hazzard themselves for want of a re­solution [Page]to deny. Let him set one hour apart every day, to consider, and make re­flexions on his past actions, and mildly point out to him his sailings, and how he might have done better, and have pleased some whom he sent away discontented, without any prejudice to himself, how he might have disengaged himselfe from com­pany that was not fitting for him, shewing him that he did not answer so generously as he might, to what was spoken, that he contested too long for his own opinion, that he had not testified so much gratitude as was requisite for some service which was done him, that he neglected to gain a good friend, and oblige an honourable person; and especially in the close of the day, make him relish the sweetness there is in im­ploying his time nobly, and profitably, and the bitterness in losing, or mispending it. Sometimes lauding, or blaming him, even shewing more love, and respect, as he en­creases in vertue, and noblenesse, and testi­fying an indifferency, and froideur, when [Page]he declines, procuring all his friends, in whom he trusts and confides, to do the same, by seeming to withdraw their affecti­on from him, when he falls into any mis­carriage. And in fine, losing no occasion to make use of for his advantage.

CHAP. VII. Of the love of Truth and of Honor.

IF one will have him become a man of honour, one must make him be ena­mor'd betimes with true honour, and breed an aversion in him to all that might stain, or soil him. This quality consists in ma­ny things, and particularly in being true, sincere, and cordial, especially keeping ones faith, and promise religiously, and in­violable, which gains a marvellous esteem, and credit in the world, deceits, and artifi­ces are nets, which are easily discovered if they be too grosse, and are quickly broken if they be more finely woven. Let the Go­vernor [Page]not suffer him by any means what­ever, to lye, or to deceive, even in things in­different. In this case only I wish him to use severity; For 'tis so insinuating, and subtile, that at the least connivence, it takes footing, and if it get the smallest root, it multiplies abundantly, and can never be ex­terminated. It makes every one keep at a distance from us, blurs the reputation, cor­rupts the manners, and discredits all we say; That 'tis the wisdom of Kings to dissemble, had need to be interpreted, and well expli­cated. That may be true of their passions, their designes, and their resentments for injuries they have received, when the good of their affairs does in this manner oblige them to play Desoubs le masque, under a viz­zard; for they ought not to consider of their particular persons, or affairs, but in refe­rence to the good of the State, for whose safety they ought to sacrifice all their pri­vate passions. But to feign, and promise, that which they wil never perform, to make snares of their words, instead of security, [Page]and an asyle, to write and treat captiously, and prostrate their honour, and conscience to their interest; This is the vertue of Tyrants, which helps sometimes to aggran­dize them, but can never make them re­nowned. True policy, does not consist in this, as we shall shew hereafter. So that a­bove all things we must imprint these in a young spirit, which by how much it is the more lively; So much the more will it have need of a restraint, and curb in this regard.

CHAP. VIII. Of Sciences.

IT is very difficult to bring him to such a perfect rule, unlesse one call in the Sci­ences for their assistance, which fortifie the mind against vices, divertise him from bad imployments, animates him to the love of vertue, enlarges the understanding either for discourse, or action, on all occasions; [Page]Not that I would have him possesse them as a Master, nor that he should spend so much time in meditation, which he ows to a more active life. But as he wears a sword to de­fend himselfe from his enemies, so his soul may be furnished with weapons to war a­gainst vices, and that grand Monster Igno­rance, which many great ones would have to be esteemed a vertue: One must give him a good tincture of literature, to make use of, and to discourse with solidity, and knowledge, and not be obliged as many are, to a forc'd silence, as often as the dis­course falls upon any other subject, besides Hawks and Hounds. But amongst that infinite number of Sciences, which one single humane wit cannot fathom, or com­prehend; he must chuse such as are most useful for his life, and conduct, leading him to the knowledge of them by facile wayes, and not as many use to teach them. They make them become so unsociable that no body dares approach them. But he should strip off the prickles, and present him only [Page]the roses. It will be therefore very neces­sary, that he that shall instruct him do pos­sesse them purely himselfe, and know how to mannage and accommodate them to the affairs of the world, that so he may draw out such sap, as may afterwards turn into substance; for this he will not so much need those profound Sciences, which serve for ostentation, as those that are profitable and a judicious skill to fit, and prepare his lessons to the young Gentlemans capacity, and need. It is almost the same with Sci­ences, as with the slights of juggling, to see them only, one would beleeve there were some magick in it, but when we know the secrets, it appears very facile, and easie. The chiefest thing consists in the manner of teaching well, and purifying them from the School: and for this reason many per­sons of good understanding would not per­mit (though with little wisedome in this particular) that their children should be taught in the publick Schools, or Accade­mies, beleeving that the time they spent [Page]there, was not recompensed by the fruit they reaped there.

CHAP. IX. Whether one ought to send him to the publick School.

THis is a question which I wil not here decide, I will content my self in re­lating what I have observed on this subject, leaving the judgement of it to better under­standings. There are some maintain, that in the Colledges, and publick Schooles, bad examples, are more frequent, and more taking then good ones. That there one be­comes acquainted with all sorts of people, and of all conditions, who not being train­ed up in any manners, do easily imprint their defects in a young spirit: That one wallows eight or ten years in that dust only, to learn the Latine Tongue, and a few shreds of History worth nothing, because they are but pieces disjointed, which have [Page]no dependence: that they often change their Masters, and by consequence alter the Me­thod, and rules of learning: That the Ma­sters are ordinarily young, and serve their Apprentiseships at their Scholars cost, as new Physitians do in Hospitals. Besides, having the charge of so many, they cannot take such particular care of every one. But now turn the other reverse of the medal, and we shall find, that young men in the Col­ledges, are instructed by such as are learned, pious, and faithful: that they animate one another by examples, and emulation: they exercise by speaking in publick, they note the defects, or perfections of each other; they are ambitious to appear more emi­nently then their fellows: The punish­ments, and recompenses do move them to desire, and fear: They apprehend their fail­ings more, because their faults are publick, they do communicate what they know to one another: they have set times and rules prescribed, which serve very much to their advancement; and the Sciences are taught [Page]them by certain degrees, and steps, which easily lead the judgement from one thing to another.

Here we must consider touching our young Cavalier, that one must as much as is possible, make him frequent such persons, whose judgements are well setled, and fra­med, and who neverthelesse have the indu­stry, and ingenuity to accommodate them­selves to his tender age. And that one must regard the Sciences in this young man, but only as an instrument which is necessary to help, and further his other exercises, to which he is allotted, and that he ought to seek them, but only in as much as they open the understanding, fortifie the mind, swee­ten his behaviour, and embellish his soul, not that he should become a Professor, a Preacher, a Judge, or a Philosopher: But a Souldier, a Polititian, a Courtier, and man of action and affairs; and therefore it will suffice him to know, as much as he ought not to be ignorant of, and not so much as 'tis possible to know, but what is fit, and [Page]sufficient to attain his ends, that they may serve him as a wheel to facilitate his moti­ons, and turnings, and not prove a weight, to toyle, and overburden his mind. They must therefore be prepared for him accor­dingly, that he may use them in his life and actions, and he that hath this great charge of him, must take special care, to direct all his lessons and instructions to that mark and end.

For this purpose it will be needful to teach him the Latine tongue, as succinctly, and purely as 'tis possible, and not trouble him with all those affected words, and phrases which many look after, and make use of that they may not be under­stood.

CHAP. X. Of History.

AT the same time, whilest the memo­ry is yet fresh, and easie to take im­pressions, he must be instructed in Histo­ry as distinctly, and methodically as may be; This consists in searching out things from their original, and following them according to the order of time exactly from their source, pointing out the progresse, the declinings, and the various mutations, and changes of all the Governments in the world from the Creation, without entan­gling him with a confusion of Authors: Chusing for every age such as have written with most faith, and purity; causing him to take notice of the graces, the defects, the documents, the intrigues, and politick rea­sons that are inserted: as also the original of those corruptions which have ruined States, the foundations upon which others [Page]have been raised, and the Maximes where­with they have maintained themselves: o­pening his understanding to reason, and dis­course upon all events, not only simply reading them over like Romances, and fee­ding his imagination with the prodigies he meets withal, without exercising his com­mon sense, in observing the causes, and rea­sons of things: or to lead him more readily at first to the more perfect knowledge of History, it would be necessary that hee that teaches him should draw out the most material passages in those Historians, and so make a pithy Epitome, or Body of Hi­story very succint; but it must be very exact for matter of time, and this will much abbreviate, and facilitate his studies, open­ing the way to an universal knowledge, and intelligence in all History, and be a great ease and help to his memory. He may also entertain him often of these matters in his familiar converse, and make him exercise himself in relating what he hath learn'd, thereby to make the deeper impression, [Page]especially of Modern Histories, which con­cern us more neerly, and will be of greater benefit. As the reign of Charles the fith, and his Successors, the Original of the Wars in the Low-Countries, the troubles and re­volts in Germany, the Wars with France, and England, their beginnings, treaties, leagues, and other circumstances necessary for such as do intend ever to undertake any great ex­ploits: Upon which he may raise hand­some discourses, and therby reap some pro­fits even from others failings, & in rich him­self by others industry. This will make him fruitful in expedients, foreseeing against the future time, resolute in all accidents, and intelligent in the interest of all the Po­tentates in the world. Which will be one degree, and step towards the knowledge of Policy, a thing that he ought to possesse most eminently above all things else, and which will render him most considerable, and usefull in the world, as we shall shew hereafter.

CHAP. XI. Of Philosophy.

THat is the first thing, with which his mind must be prepared, which being fortified by that knowledge in History, shal be afterwards quite perfected and brought to maturity, by discovering the Principles of Philosophy to him, which teaches our reason, how it must make use of its self. Many have judged it uselesse, and pernici­ous to the active life: because that by rai­sing the soul up to contemplation, it as 'twere unties it from the body, which should act. And indeed, I would have him possesse it as his Wife, and not as a Mi­stresse. I mean, that he should have an in­separable love for her, and that she might be subject to him, but not a passion, which would make him become a slave. I would have him be served by her, instead of ser­ving her, and not do anything without her [Page]counsel; I would have him know that Phi­losophy, which discourses, which enlight­ens, which rules our manners, which loves society: and not that which raves, which contends, which creates Chimera's, and loves naught but solitude. This last is vain, ridiculous, importunate, and idle. The first is solid, pleasing, tranquil, and salutary. And I esteem it no less needful for a man that is exposed to the storms, and agitati­ons of Courts, then the Rudder and Com­passe is to a Ship. But not to lose time, one must leave out all that is superfluous, and take only that which is substantial nou­rishment, teaching him to reason and argue handsomely, to draw one thing skilfully from another, to maintain a good position firmly, to divide and distinguish aright, and discover and untie all sophisticate, and spe­cious arguments. This art serves for all things, and may be applyed on any occasi­on. In counsels they do nothing but reason, and argue. In Courts all their art consists in drawing consequences, and penetrating [Page]into things unknown, by the appearance. War is a continual reasoning. And in fine, man cannot shew he is such, but by that on­ly. The world attributes all to experience alone: But art teaches the rules, which are truely drawn from thence, but purified and set on work by those, whom she had most illuminated, which makes us enjoy without labour, the fruit of those labours, wherein they have wasted their lives.

CHAP. XII. Of Monality.

FRom thence, one may proceed to disco­ver superficially unto him, the secrets of nature, the order, the productions, the cau­ses, the ends, and the connexion of all things, the springs of the senses, the pow­ers and faculties of the soul; and the man­ner how they act, without neverthelesse engaging him too far in this knowledge, which serves more for his divertisements, [Page]then his profit. But as to that part, which concerns his manners, and which teaches one to seek for tranquillity, and to set the soul at repose, to restrain vice, practise ver­tues, suffer the blows of fortune constantly and nobly, to be undaunted and resolved a­midst dangers, to despise death, and not to be inveigled with the love of false honours: of this he must make his principal and stock, from whence he may all his life time supply himselfe with those treasures, which will be necessary for him, in the voyage he is to make thorow the world, and particu­larly in knowing, and often reflecting seri­ously upon himselfe. Without this sup­port, we are apt to fall at every little oppo­sition. Therefore on all occasions, and rencontres he should be exercised, and in­structed in this knowledge. It consists al­together in operation, and does not teach the mind, but only that it should master, and over rule the body: and to this end there must be a continual care, to make him practice every day vertuous actions [Page]according as the occasions are presented, teaching him to purifie them, and to per­form them gracefully without ostentation, vain glory, or interest; being only affect­ed with that which is really just, and good. To love honest people, treating every one according to his merits, and not abusing his own power: but preferring that which is right before any other interest; as for the choice of friends, 'tis a thing that I would leave to his own disposition, only ad­vertising him of the good, or bad qualities, of those whom he would honour with his confidence, drawing him, however handsomely away from such, as would prove pernicious to him, and teaching him not to be too prodigal, and bestow that fa­vour too lightly: That so he may not be of­ten obliged to resume it again and disavow his election by a change.

CHAP. XIII. Of Policy, and the means to instruct him there­in in his youth.

AS for Policy, if he will attain to high things, he must be instructed there­in, by a continual exercise. Not in that Policy which subjects all Law, Honour, and Conscience it selfe, to private interest: But in that enlightned prudence, which foresees the future without consulting the Stars, which establishes States by a solid, and durable government, which under­stands, and observes the Laws: under the care whereof the people may peaceably re­pose, and which does furnish fit remedies to every grievance, and distemper, by pre­scribing wholesome physick, and not dau­bing things over with emperical essences.

To lead him to this without trouble, one must begin betimes to dispose and bend his mind to it, by accustoming him not to doe [Page]any thing without some designe to make choice of the subtilest, and surest means to obtain it, to know the nature, and the inte­rests of each one, to find out the most hid­den, and dissembled slights and deceits, which are used in every profession, to make him both detest, and know how to shun them at the same time. One must make him give reasons for all his actions, create, or raise little intrigues, and troubles, and leave his mind entangled in some necessity, and then see how he can disengage himselfe: make him observe every ones discourse, and then discover the secret intentions they had therein to him, the ends they aimed at, and the artifice that lay hid in their speeches: make him attempt several wayes to gaine one thing, that so he may come to find out which are the most certain to compass his designe; never conceding any thing he wishes for earnestly, till he have used some ingenious stratagem to obtain it: striving sometimes to deceive him cunningly, and shewing him the craft afterwards, that he [Page]may beware of it another time: disco [...] sing frequently in his presence upon all sorts of subjects, and accidents, upon the actions, and the conduct of others, shewing him their failings, or their skill. How it was hurtful and prejudicial to one, for ha­ving spoken too much: and that another be­leeved too lightly: that the one did not consider the danger which threatned him, that the other was not so reserved in his passion as he should, that he needlesly made one his enemy, whom he might handsomely have kept still for his friend, and many o­ther things, which daily fall out by occasi­on. On which he must be often exercised. After this, his mind being setled, and his judgement regulated, one must teach him the principles of this Science, the nature of all Governments, their Maximes, and fundamental Laws, the main Questions, which come in Controversie; the divers kinds of Monarchies, and Republicks, those things that ruines them, that which aug­ments them, the remedies to hinder their [Page]dissolution, the nature of Treaties, Leagues, Alliances, and what is observable therein. The cause of Wars, Order, Policy, Provi­dence, and all the rest, on which many have written in general, shewing him the means to make his use of them, and applying all these precepts to particular affairs, and to present examples, on the which he must often discourse. From thence he must de­scend to more particular things, he must learn the state, and interest of all Courts, as well in particular, as in general: and prin­cipally of that wherein he is to reside, the pretence of every one and the reasons they have, the means they use, and apply, their friends, confederates, forces, allies, their in­trigues, their riches, their forces, and their inclinations: to make use of in time, and know how to catch every one with advan­tage, either in gaining a friend handsomly, or overcoming an enemy, and make him incapable of doing any prejudice.

CHAP. XIV. The second step, or degree to arrive at the know­ledge of Politicks which is to travel, and how.

AS soon as he knows these principles in Idea, he should exercise them by experience, and draw them in the great Book of the World, whose animated Cha­racters do touch the Soul more lively, and make him disgest the Science of Books, by his own observations, as feeble stomacks, which use some exercise to encrease their decayed heat. Things are not true because Authors have said it: but they contain in themselves the truth which every one may discover according as he is illuminated: It will be therefore expedient to wean him as soon as one can from the delights of his home, to shew him that there are other Manners, other Men, and other Cities then those of his own Country; which excites [Page]the divers sentiments in us, and the diver­sity of things sensible: because the power indifferent of it selfe cannot be determined but by the object. The actions of the mind are the same, if we do not offer it diverse things, it cannot apply it selfe but to those that are presented to it, and though the imagination does often travel without the body, it never returns fully satisfied, fancy­ing to its self things that have no substance, but in its own imagination, unlesse the eyes and the other senses do serve, and become guides and compagnons to it. That which we learn only by reading, or hear-say, wee cannot affirm but one the faith of others: words, and books, are but expressions, and copies, which never have all the graces and perfections of the original. He that would know things as they are, must draw them from their source, and spring head. There happens a thousand accidents in Travels, on which the spirit, and mind must exercise themselves. We behold every where great example to instruct us. One frequents

CHAP. XIV. The second step, or degree to arrive at the know­ledge of Politicks which is to travel, and how.

AS soon as he knows these principles in Idea, he should exercise them by experience, and draw them in the great Book of the World, whose animated Cha­racters do touch the Soul more lively, and make him disgest the Science of Books, by his own observations, as feeble stomacks, which use some exercise to encrease their decayed heat. Things are not true because Authors have said it: but they contain in themselves the truth which every one may discover according as he is illuminated: It will be therefore expedient to wean him as soon as one can from the delights of his home, to shew him that there are other Manners, other Men, and other Cities then those of his own Country; which excites [Page]the divers sentiments in us, and the diver­sity of things sensible: because the power indifferent of it selfe cannot be determined but by the object. The actions of the mind are the same, if we do not offer it diverse things, it cannot apply it selfe but to those that are presented to it, and though the imagination does often travel without the body, it never returns fully satisfied, fancy­ing to its self things that have no substance, but in its own imagination, unlesse the eyes and the other senses do serve, and become guides and compagnons to it. That which we learn only by reading, or hear-say, wee cannot affirm but one the faith of others: words, and books, are but expressions, and copies, which never have all the graces and perfections of the original. He that would know things as they are, must draw them from their source, and spring head. There happens a thousand accidents in Travels, on which the spirit, and mind must exercise themselves. We behold every where great example to instruct us. One frequents [Page]many kinds of people, of several humours, and spirits. One learnes the different cu­stomes, the orders, and Policy of every Ci­ty; their civilities, their usage, their laws, and their language, which breeds a confor­mity in us to their fashions, and is a great advantage if we afterwards chance to have to do with them. This weanes one from his false love to his own country, and makes us Citizens of the whole world, or at least brings one easily to comply with every one. Another great benefit which is reaped from hence is, that a man learnes to know him­selfe. Great men in their own Countries are environed with flatterers, who sooth up, and disguise their vices, and care for nothing, but to please them only. They receive nothing but respect, submissions and complaisances: they see none but such, whom they have the power to command; and unless they be timely drawn off from it, they contract an imperious humor, and pride, and cannot endure any, but such as fear them, because they are us'd to awe all [Page]such as live within the verge of their pow­er; But in strange countries, they behold none, but unknown faces, who give them no more respect, and honour, then what they first receive from them, and from thence they learn indeed, what they truely are, by the esteem such men have for them, who neither pretend any thing from them, nor depend upon them. Besides they become subject to the Laws of those places where they go, and habituate themselves by being forc'd to observe those, to keep their own Laws voluntarily, which they might other­wise violate without fear of punishment: But they will need a guide to conduct them, and shew them how to make their profit of all things: otherwise they shall see no­thing but Walls, Cities, Palaces, and Fountains, and nothing but their eyes shall travel. One must make them penetrate into the interests of Courts, make compa­risons of one, with another, taking notice of what is good, and bad, and strive to make them become considerable in the esteem of [Page]forraign Princes, and Ministers of State, establishing a strict, and faithful correspon­dency between them and those men of re­nown they shall meet with in their travels, that so they may become the more useful to their own Prince at home, as having these engins abroad, which may be able to act much for them, at a need in all great affairs. He must also be careful to bring them to the knowledge of all such, as he shall heare of in any country who do excel in any Art, or Science. If he delight in their compa­ny, he will in short time dive into their greatest knowledge, and enrich himselfe without trouble with their Secrets, and la­borious learning: it being impossible but that from this frequentation, there should remain much of that great light in him, which shall keep him from being deceived.

CHAP. XV. Third step, or degree; the Military Art.

AFter he hath pass'd in this occupati­on that age, which useth to be idle, which we ought scarcely to account in the number of our years: If one think it fitting one may make him try some occasions of War, thereby to learn that noble Art, and confirm his courage. If he be absolutely destined to that exercise, one must go the more slowly on in his instruction, and make him passe through all offices, that he may be the more capable to command, having first learned well to obey. But if he be intended for a man of Counsel, which is the highest sphear of all, which, like the se­cond Region of the Air, is above all storms, where one may sit in tranquillity and be­hold the clouds showring down floods, and tempests, which were formed neer that place; Then in this case it will suffice to [Page]let him know the rules of Military Art, and be instructed in the duty of each Officer, in the orders and necessary provisions, in the manner of assault, and defending, and whatever else of this nature. After which it will be enough if he apply himselfe two years to learn the experience, and let him have one with him, that can discover all the subtilties, and the secret wayes made use of in any action; guiding him ever to the right end, which is to make him a grand Polititian, making him search out the very bottom of every businesse, and not stop at the appearance which is most times false; shewing him the strength of true reasons, that he may clearly see the conduct of Ministers of state, and give a better judg­ment of things then the vulgar are capable to do.

CHAP. XVI. The fourth step, or degree of Intrigues, and Negotiations.

WHen he shall know so much as to be no longer ignorant, one may be­gin to put him into employments, and make him taste of all things that they may be familiar to him betimes. First, he must be made capable of the affairs of his house, of the state of his goods, and rights, of his Subjects and his pretensions, of his enemies if he have any, of the intrigues of his An­cestors, of the order he must follow, not only to maintain himselfe in their lustre; but to raise and elevate himselfe above his Predecessors: make him chuse a rule to live by, and a determinate end, and aime, for his propounded object, on, and towards which he must frame all his actions, that so himself may be the guid of his own fortune, and not be dragg'd about after her wheele: [Page]like those that act only by hazzard, and are not resolved in any certain thing, but take their resolution in the midst of their race. 'Tis in this choice, that one must consider his inclination, the capacity of his soul, and what promise there does appear, mildly following those paths which nature shall seem to guide him into. Some are good for counsel, others for the execution; some for Intrigues and for the Court, others to speak, and other some to write. Close han­ded nature seldome drops all her treasures into one bosome. We must therefore search what qualities are born in us, and by them judge of the end whereto she calls us, by the means, and facility she hath given us to attain it. This is such counsel, as cannot be taken till the judgement be setled, and mature, and the capacity fully known. It will not be very difficult to get imploy­ments fitting his condition, as offices, com­missions, ambassages, and other such like, in which he may begin to reduce all his Science into Practice, and make use of those [Page]weapons, or instruments his studies shall have furnished him withal. But at the first he will yet need some body to enlighten him in all his actions, but in such a manner withal, that he may let his spirit work free­ly of it selfe, and be content only to fortifie and uphold it: otherwise he will never be any other but a Copy, and will be accusto­med ever to rely upon the counsel of o­thers. Nay sometimes it will be good to give him bad counsel, and colour it with see­ming reasons, to see if he will have the judg­ment to penetrate into it, and then present­ly discover the falsity of it to him, if he do not perceive it of himselfe: that so he may be always on his guard, and not let himselfe be easily surprized, nor trust so much to the opinions, and belief of others, as not to weigh them exactly in the scale of his own judgement, and esteem the real truth, before the false friend. That which makes that so many Princes have nothing but the title and ornaments of Royalty, proceeds from the faults in their education: For he that [Page]hath them in charge, being unwilling that his power should end with their infancy, will be sure not to open their judgements, and understanding too much, lest they be­comming capable enough of themselves, should not want their help to govern them. The Governor must act sincerely, and lay down his own authority by little and little, according as the other encreases in know­ledge, letting him act of himselfe, and only following him close, to be ready to help him if he stumble. When one would build an Ark, they set up a frame of wood first to uphold it, but when it is compleated; that support is taken away, that it may sub­sist by its own strength. The spirit hath no need of a guide, but then when it is blind: But one must not purposely leave it in its obscurity, that we may have occasion to lead it the longer, nor keep open the wound to have the longer practice. Let him in­struct his disciple so well, that he may have the vertue not to forget his care that taught him, and inspire so much goodnesse as to [Page]deserve and receive a bountiful reward, and let him endeavour as speedily as he can, to change the name of governor into that of domestick, and friend. If he prove happy in his conduct, he will gaine more glory, and benefit from the second then the first. Let him instruct him to consider the fruit, not the basket, the counsel, not the coun­sellor, to examine and weigh the sense, the subject, and circumstances of all things; and not oblige himselfe to any persons, but according as he finds their fidelity. Let him prove, both the bottom, and to the most secret recesses and tortuosities of the hearts, and affections of those he loves most, and let him purge every thing from opinion, and custome. Let him not be too apt, and light to beleeve the good, or evil that is said of any one. Let him try them by the touch-stone himself, to know the reality, and purity thereof. In fine let him ap­propriate to himselfe all the actions, and all the sentiments, and his friends have no more power, then they shall have truth [Page]and goodness. They may counsel him with artifice if they be wicked, and they may al­so deceive themselvs how subtile, and clear-sighted soever they be.

CHAP. XVII. Of those other Sciences he ought to learn.

I Have enlarged on this part of the active life, because it is the point upon which all actions do run, and without which the Sciences are but as good weapons in the hands of an impotent man. But these should be also accompanied with some other Arts, which will be very useful instruments unto him: As some parts of the Mathematicks, that which does not consist altogether in high, and useless meditations; but which instructs the senses, and is appliable to ex­teriour things for the publick benefit. To learn this, Geometry must be the foundati­on, he must know the rules, and demonstra­tions, after Arithmetick, which is absolute­ly [Page]necessary for him. He should be taught Cosmography as exactly as possible, in so much that he should carry, as 'twere, a lit­tle Map of all the World in his imitation. after which it will not be very difficult to teach him the Art of Fortification, with all the inventions, engins, and instruments of War. As for drawing, or painting, if he had any inclination, it would not be amiss for him to bring his hand to make some de­lineations, and to draw a plat-form exactly with its dimensions. For Poetry 'tis an indifferent thing, which does not misbe­come a Cavalier, when it is but an accessa­ry in him, and an ornament to his other vertues. If he have any Genius to it, it should not be hindered altogether, but he may sometimes use it, it will make him the more able and free to discourse, and will whet his wits: but unless he be dispo­sed of himselfe to it, I am not of opinion that he should be at all prompted thereun­to.