THE most likely and most usual way in Practice of appeasing the Indig­nation of such as we have any way offended, when we see them in Pos­session of the Power of Revenge, and find that we absolutely lie at their Mercy, Submissi­on molli­fies the Hearts of the offen­ded. is by Sub­mission (than which, nothing more flatters the Glory of an Adversary) to move them to Com­miseration and Pity: and yet Bravery, Con­stancy, and Resolution, however quite contrary means, have sometimes served to produce the same effect. Edward the Black Prince of Wales (the same who so long govern'd our Province of Guienne, Edward the Black Prince. a Person whose high Condition, ex­cellent Qualities, and remarkable Fortune, have [Page 2] in them a great deal of the most noble and most considerable Parts of Grandeur) having, through some Misdemeanours of theirs, been highly incens'd by the Limosins, and in the heat of that Resentment taking their City by Assault, was not, in the Riot commonly attend­ing such Executions, either by the Out-cries of the People, or the Prayers and Tears of the Women and Children, abandon'd to Slaughter and prostrate at his Feet for Mercy, to be stay­ed from prosecuting his Revenge; till, pene­trating further into the Body of the Town, he at last took notice of three French Gentlemen, Remarka­ble Valour of three French Gentle­men. who with incredible Bravery, alone sustained the whole Power of his victorious Army: And then it was, that the Consideration of, and the Respect unto so remarkable a Vertue, first stopt the Torrent of his Fury, and that his Cle­mency, beginning in the Preservation of these three Cavaliers, was afterwards extended to all the remaining Inhabitants of the City. Scander­beg. Scander­beg Prince of Epirus, in great Wrath pursuing one of his Souldiers, with a resolute Purpose to kill him, and the Souldier having in vain tryed by all the ways of Humility and Suppli­cation to appease him, seeing him notwithstand­ing obstinately bent to his Ruine, resolv'd, as his last Refuge, to face about and expect him with his Sword in his Hand; which Behavior of his gave a sudden stop to his Captain's Fu­ry, who, seeing him assume so notable a Resolution, receiv'd him to Grace: an Exam­ple, however, that might suffer another Inter­pretation with such as have not read of the [Page 3] prodigious Force and Valour of that invincible Prince. The Emperour Conrade the 3 d. ha­ving besieg'd Guelpho Duke of Bavaria, would not be prevail'd upon, what mean and unman­ly Satisfactions soever had been tender'd to him, to condescend to milder Conditions, than that the Ladies and Gentlewomen only who were in the Town might go out without Vio­lation of their Honour, on Foot and with so much only as they could carry about them. Which was no sooner known, but that out of Magnanimity of Heart, Conjugal Love. and an Excess of good Nature, they presently contriv'd to carry out, upon their Shoulders, their Husbands and Children, and even the Duke himself; a Sight at which the Emperour was so pleased, that ravish'd with the Generosity of the Action, he wept for Joy, and immediately extinguishing in his Heart the mortal and implacable Hatred he had conceiv'd against this Duke, he from that time forward, treated Him and His with all Humanity and Affection. The one, or the o­ther, of these two ways, would with great Fa­cility work upon my Nature; for I have a mar­vellous Propensity to Mercy and Mildness, and to such a degree of Tenderness, that I fansie, of the two I should sooner surrender my Anger to compassion than Esteem: And yet Pity is re­puted a Vice amongst the Stoicks, Pity repu­ted a Vice amongst the Stoicks. who will that we succour the Afflicted, but not that we should be so affected with their Sufferings as to suffer with them. I conceiv'd these Examples not ill suited to the Question in hand, and the rather, because therein we observe these great [Page 4] Souls, assaulted and tryed by these two several ways to resist the one without relenting, and to be shook and subjected by the other. It is true, that to suffer a Man's Heart to be totally subdued by Compassion, may be imputed Faci­lity, Effeminacy, and Over-tenderness; whence it comes to pass, that the weakest Natures, as of Women, Children, and the Common sort of People, are the most subject to it: but after having resisted, and disdain'd the Power of Sighs and Tears, to surrender a Man's Animo­sity to the sole Reverence of the Sacred Image of Vertue, this can be no other than the Effect of a strong and inflexible Soul, enamour'd of, and ravish'd with a Masculine and obstinate Va­lour. Nevertheless, Astonishment and Admi­ration may in less generous Minds beget a like Effect. Witness the People of Thebes, who having put two of their Generals upon Tryal for their Lives, for having continued in Arms beyond the precise Term of their Commission, very hardly pardon'd Pelopidas, who bowing under the weight of so dangerous an Accusa­tion, had made no manner of Defence for himself, nor producd other Arguments than Prayers and Supplications to secure his Head; whereas, on the contrary, Epaminondas being brought to the Bar, and falling to magnifie the Exploits he had perform'd in their Service, and after a haughty and arrogant manner re­proaching them with Ingratitude and Injustice, they had not the Heart to proceed any further in his Tryal, but broke up the Court and de­parted, the whole Assembly highly commend­ing [Page 5] the Courage and Confidence of this Man. Dionysius the elder, The Cru­elty of Di­onysius the Tyrant. after having by a tedious Siege, and through exceeding great Difficul­ties, taken the City of Rhegium, and in it the Governour Phyton, a very gallant Man, who had made so obstinate a Defence, he was resol­ved to make him a tragical Example of his Re­venge; in order whereunto, and the more sen­sibly to afflict him, he first told him, That he had the Day before caus'd his Son and all his Kin­dred to be drown'd: To which Phyton return'd no other Answer but this, That they were then by one Day happier than he. After which, cau­sing him to be strip'd, and delivering him into the Hands of the Tormentors, he was by them not only dragg'd through the Streets of the Town, and most ignominiously and cruelly whipp'd, but moreover, vilified with most bit­ter and contumelious Language: yet still, in the Fury of all this Persecution, he maintain'd his Courage entire all the way, with a strong Voice and undaunted Countenance proclaiming the glorious Cause of his Death; namely, for that he would not deliver up his Countrey in­to the Hands of a Merciless Tyrant; at the same time denouncing against him a sudden Chastisement from the offended Gods. At which the Tyrant rowling his Eyes about, and reading in his Souldiers looks, that instead of being incens'd at the haughty Language of this conquer'd Enemy, to the Contempt of him their Captain and his Triumph, they not only seem'd struck with Admiration of so rare a Vertue, but moreover inclin'd to Mutiny, and [Page 6] were even ready to rescue the Prisoner out of the Hangman's hands, he caused the Execution to cease, and afterwards privately caus'd him to be thrown into the Sea. Man (in good ear­nest) is a Marvellous vain, fickle, and unsta­ble Subject, and on whom it is very hard to form any certain or proportionate Judgment. For Pompey could pardon the whole City of the Mammertines, Pompey. though furiously incens'd against it, upon the single Account of the Vertue and Magnanimity of one Citizen, Ze­no, who took the Fault of the Publick whol­ly upon himself; neither intreated other Fa­vour, but alone to undergo the Punishment for all: And yet Sylla's Host, having in the City of Perusia manifested the same Vertue, obtain'd nothing by it, either for himself or his Fellow Citizens. And, directly contrary to my first Examples, the bravest of all Men, and who was reputed so gracious and civil to all those he overcame, Alexander the Great, Alexander. having after many great Difficulties forc'd the City of Gaza, and entring found Betis, who commanded there, and of whose Valour in the time of this Siege he had most noble and mani­fest Proof, alone, forsaken by all his Souldi­ers, his Arms hack'd and hew'd to pieces, co­vered all over with Blood and Wounds, and yet still fighting in the Crowd of a great Number of Macedonians, who were laying on him on all sides, he said to him, netled at so dear bought Victory, and two fresh Wounds he had newly received in his own Person, Thou shalt not die Betis so honourably as thou dost [Page 7] intend, but shalt assuredly suffer all the Torments that can be inflicted on a miserable Captive. To which Menaces the other returning no other Answer, but only a fierce and disdainful Look; What, says the Conqueror Obstinate silence of Betis. (observing his obstinate Silence) Is he too stiff to bend a Knee! Is he too proud to utter one suppliant Word! I shall certainly conquer this Silence; and if I cannot force a Word from his Mouth, I shall at least extract a Groan from his Heart. And thereupon converting his Anger into Fury, presently commanded his Heels to be boar'd through, causing him alive to be dragg'd, mangled, and dismembred at an infamous Carts-Tail. Was it that the height of Courage was so natural and familiar to this Conqueror, that because he could not admire, he should the less esteem this Hero? Or was it that he conceiv'd Valour to be a Vertue so peculiar to himself, that his Pride could not, without Envy, endure it in another? Or was it that the natural Impetuosity of his Fury was incapable of Opposition? Certainly, had it been capable of any manner of Modera­tion or Saticty, it is to be believ'd, that in the Sack and Desolation of Thebes, to see so many valiant Men lost and totally destitute of any further Defence, cruelly massacred before his Eyes, would have appeas'd it. Where there were above six thousand put to the Sword, of which not one was seen to fly, or heard to cry out for Quarter; but on the con­trary, every one running here and there to seek out and to provoke the Victorious Enemy to help them to an honourable end. Not one [Page 8] who did not to his last Gasp yet endeavour to revenge himself, and with all the Arms of a brave Despair to sweeten his own Death in the Death of an Enemy. Yet did their Vertue create no Pity, and the length of one day was not enough to satiate the Thirst of the Con­querour's Revenge; but the Slaughter continu­ed to the last drop of Bloud that was capable of being shed, and stopp'd not till it met with none but naked and impotent Persons, old Men, Women, and Children, of them to car­ry away to the number of thirty thousand Slaves.

NO Man living is more free from this Passion than I, who neither like it in my self, nor admire it in others, and yet generally the World, (I know not why) is pleas'd to grace it with a particular Esteem, endeavouring to make us believe, That Wisdom, Vertue and Conscience shroud themselves under this grave and affected Appearance. Foolish and sordid Disguise! The Italians however under the De­nomination of Un Tristo, decypher a clan­destine Nature, a dangerous and ill-natur'd Man: And with good reason, it being a Qua­lity always hurtful, always idle and vain, and as cowardly, mean, and base, by the Stoicks expresly, and particularly forbidden their Sa­ges: [Page 9] But the Story, nevertheless, says, that Psammenitus, King of Egypt, being defeated and taken Prisoner by Cambyses King of Persia, seeing his own Daughter pass by him in a wretched Habit, with a Bucket to draw Wa­ter, though his Friends about him were so concerned as to break out into Tears and La­mentations at the miserable sight; yet he him­self remain'd unmov'd, without uttering a Word of Discontent, with his Eyes fix'd up­on the Ground: and seeing moreover his Son immediately after led to Execution, still main­tain'd the same Gravity and Indifference; till spying at last one of his Domesticks dragg'd a­way amongst the Captives, he could then hold no longer, but fell to tearing his Hair, and beating his Breast, with all the other Extrava­gancies of a wild and desperate Sorrow. A Story that may very fitly be coupled with ano­ther of the same kind, of a late Prince of our own Nation, who being at Trent, and having News there brought him of the Death of his Elder Brother, but a Brother on whom de­pended the whole Support and Honour of his House, and soon after of that of a younger Brother, the second Hope of his Family, and having withstood these two Assaults with an exemplary Resolution, one of his Servants happening a few days after to die, he suffer'd his Constancy to be overcome by his last Acci­dent; and parting with his Courage, so a­bandon'd himself to Sorrow and Mourning, that some from thence were forward to con­clude, that he was only touch'd to the Quick [Page 10] by this last Stroak of Fortune; but, in truth, it was, that being before brim full of Grief, the least Addition overflow'd the Bounds of all Patience. Which might also be said of the for­mer Example, did not the Story proceed to tell us, That Cambyses asking Psammenitus, Why, not being mov'd at the Calamity of his Son and Daughter, he should with so great Impatience bear the Misfortune of his Friend? It is (an­swer'd he) because this last affliction was only to be manifested by Tears, the two first exceeding all manner of Expression. And peradventure something like this might be working in the Fancy of the ancient Painter who being in the Sacrifice of Iphigenia to represent the Sorrow of the Assistants proportionably to the several Degrees of Interest every one had in the Death of this fair innocent Virgin; and having in the other Figures laid out the utmost Power of his Art, when he came to that of her Father, he drew him with a veil over his Face, mean­ing thereby, that no kind of Countenance was capable of expressing such a degree of Sorrow. Which is also the reason why the Poets feign the miserable Mother Niobe, having first lost seven Sons, and successively as many Daugh­ters, to be at last transform'd into a Rock, ‘ Ovid. Met. lib. 6.Diriguisse malis,’

Thereby to express, that melancholick, dumb, and deaf Stupidity, which benumbs all our Faculties when opprest with Accidents greater than we are able to bear; and indeed the [Page 11] Violence and Impression of an excessive Grief, must of necessity astonish the Soul, and whol­ly deprive her of her ordinary Functions: As it happens to every one of us, who upon any sudden Alarm of very ill News, find our selves surpriz'd, stupified, and in a manner depriv'd of all Power of Motion, till the Soul beginning to vent it self in sighs and Tears, seems a lit­tle to free and disingage it self from the sud­den Oppression, and to have obtain'd some room to work it self out at greater liberty.

In the War that Ferdinand made upon the Widow of King John of Hungary about Bu­da, a Man at Arms was particularly taken no­tice of by every one for his singular gallant Behaviour in a certain Encounter; unknown, highly commended, and as much lamented, be­ing left Dead upon the Place: But by none so much as by Raisciac a German Lord, who was infinitely unamour'd of so unparallell'd a Ver­tue. When the Body being brought off, and the Count with the common Curiosity coming to view it, the Arms were no sooner taken off, but he immediately knew him to be his own Son. A thing that added a second Blow to the Compassion of all the Beholders; only he, without uttering a Word, or turning away his Eyes from the woful Object, stood fixtly contemplating the Body of his Son, till the Vehemency of Sorrow having overcome his [Page 12] Vital Spirits made him sink down stone dead to the Ground.

How his Soul melted in the gentle Flame? say the Inamorato's when they would represent an insupportable Passion.

Neither is it in the height and greatest Fu­ry of the Fit, that we are in a condition to pour out our Complaints, or to sally into Courtship, the Soul being at that time over­burthened, and labouring with profound Thoughts: and the Body dejected and lan­guishing with Desire; and thence it is, that some­times proceed those accidental Impotencies that so unseasonably surprise the willing Lover, [Page 13] and that Frigidity which by the force of an Im­moderate Ardour, so unhappily seizes him even in the very lap of Fruition: For all Pas­sions that suffer themselves to be relish'd and digested, are but moderate.

A surprise of unexpected Joys does likewise often produce the same effect.

To these we have the Examples of the Ro­man Lady, who died for Joy to see her Son safe return'd from the Defeat of Cannae; and of Sophocles, and Dionysius the Tyrant, who di­ed of Joy; and of Talva, who died in Corsica, reading News of the Honours the Roman Se­nate had decreed in his Favour. We have moreover one, in the time of Pope Leo the tenth, who upon News of the taking of Milan, a thing he had so ardently and passionately de­sir'd, was rapt with so sudden an excess of Joy, [Page 14] that he immediately fell into a Fever and died. And for a more authentick Testimony of the imbecility of Humane Nature, it is recorded by the Ancients, that Diodorus the Logician died upon the Place, out of an extream Passi­on of Shame, for not having been able in his own School, and in the presence of a great Au­ditory, to disingage himself from a nice Ar­gument that was propounded to him. I for my part am very little subject to these violent Passions; I am naturally of a stubborn appre­hension, which also by discourse, I every day harden and fortifie more and more.

SUch as accuse Mankind of the folly of ga­ping and panting after future things, and advise us to make our Benefits of those which are present, and to set up our rest upon them, as having too short a reach to lay hold upon that which is to come, and it being more im­possible for us, than to retreive what is past; have hit upon the most universal of Humane Errours, if that may be call'd an Errour to which Nature it self has dispos'd us, who in order to the subsistence, and continuation of her own Work, has, amongst several others, prepossess'd us with this deceiving Imaginati­on, as being more jealous of our Action, than [Page 15] afraid of our Knowledge. For we are never present with, but always beyond our selves. Fear, Desire and Hope, are still pushing us on towards the future, depriving us in the mean time of the Sense and Consideration of that, which is to amuse us, with the thought of what shall be, even when we shall be no more.

We find this great Precept often repeated in Plato, Do thine own Work, and know thy self. Of which two Parts, both the one and the o­ther generally comprehend our whole Duty, and consequently do each of them complicate and involve the other; for, who will do his own Work aright, will find that his first Les­son is to know himself: And who rightly un­derstands himself, will never mistake another Man's Work for his own, but will love and improve himself above all other things, will refuse superfluous Employments, and reject all unprofitable Thoughts and Propositions. And, as folly on the one side, though it should en­joy all it can possibly desire, would notwith­standing never be content; so on the other, Wisdom does ever acquiesce with the present, and is never dissatisfied with its immediate Condition: And that is the reason why Epicu­rus dispences his Sages from all Fore-sight and Care of the future. Amongst those Laws that relate to the Dead, I look upon that to be the best, by which the Actions of Princes are to [Page 16] be examined and sifted after their Decease. They are equal at least, while Living, if not above the Laws, and therefore what Justice could not inflict upon their Persons, 'tis but reason should be executed upon their Reputa­tions, and the Estates of their Successors, Things that we often value above Life it self: A Custom of singular advantage to those Coun­tries where it is in use, and by all good Prin­ces as much to be desired, who have reason to take it ill, that the Memories of the Tyrannical and Wicked should be us'd with the same Re­verence and Respect with theirs. We owe, 'tis true, Subjection and Obedience to all our Kings, whether good or bad, alike, for that has respect unto their Office; but as to Affe­ction and Esteem, those are only due to their Vertue. Let it be granted, that by the Rule of Government we are with Patience to endure unworthy Princes, to conceal their Vices, and to assist them in their indifferent Actions, whilst their Authority stands in need of our Support: Yet, the Relation of Prince and Sub­ject being once at an end, there is no reason we should deny the Publication of our real wrongs and sufferings to our own Liberty and com­mon Justice, and to interdict good Subjects the Glory of having submissively and faithful­ly serv'd a Prince, whose Imperfections were to them so perfectly known, were to deprive Posterity of so good an Example; and such as out of respect to some private Obliga­tion, shall, against their own Knowledge and Conscience, espouse the Quarrel, and vindicate [Page 17] the Memory of a faulty Prince, do a particu­lar Right at the Expence, and to the Preju­dice of the Publick Justice. Livy does very truly say, That the Language of Men bred up in Courts, is always sounding of vain Ostenta­tion, and that their Testimony is rarely true, every one indifferently magnifying his own Master, and stretching his Commendation to the utmost extent of Vertue and Sovereign Grandeur: And 'tis not impossible but some may condemn the freedom of those two Soldi­ers, who so roundly answer'd Nero to his Face, the one being ask'd by him, Why he bore him ill Will? I lov'd thee, answer'd he, whilst thou wert worthy of it, but since thou art become a Parricide, an Incendiary, a Waterman, a Fidler, a Player, and a Coachman, I hate thee as thou dost deserve: and the other, Why he should attempt to kill him? Because, said he, I could think of no other Reme­dy against thy perpetual Mischiefs. But the publick and universal Testimonies that were given of him after his Death (and will be to all Posterity, both of him and all other wick­ed Princes like him) his Tyrannies and abomi­nable deportment considered, who, of a sound Judgment, can reprove them? I am scanda­liz'd, I confess, that in so sacred a Govern­ment as that of the Lacedaemonians, there should be mixt so hypocritical a Ceremony at the En­terment of their Kings; Ceremony of the La­cedaemoni­ans at the Enter­ment of their Kings. where all their Con­federates and Neighbours, and all sorts and degrees of Men and Women, as well as their Slaves, cut and slash'd their Fore-heads in To­ken of Sorrow, repeating in their Cries and [Page 18] Lamentations, That that King (let him have been as wicked as the Devil) was the best that ever they had; by this means attributing to his Quality the Praises that only belong to Merit, and that of Right is properly due to the most supreme Desert, though lodg'd in the lowest and most inferiour Subject. Aristo [...]le (who will still have a hand in every thing) makes a Quaere upon the saying of Solon, Th [...] none can be said to be happy untill he be dead Whether then any one of those who have liv'd and died according to their Hearts Desire, if [...]e have left an ill Repute behind him, and th [...] his Posterity be miserable, can be said to be happy? Whilst we have Life and Motion, we convey our selves by Fancy and Preoccupation, whither and to what we please; but once o [...] of Being, we have no more any manner of Communication with what is yet in Being [...] and it had therefore been better said of Sol [...] ▪ That Man is never happy, because never so till af­ter he is no more.

[Page 19] Bertrand de Glesquin, dying before the Castle of Rancon near unto Puy in Auvergne, the Be­sieg'd were afterwards, upon Surrender, en­joyn'd to lay down the Keys of the Place up­on the Corps of the dead General. Bartolc­mew d' Alviano, the Venetian General, hapning to die in the Service of the Republick in Brascia; and his Corps being to be carried thorough the Territory of Verona, an Enemy's Country, most of the Army were of Opinion to demand safe Conduct from the Veronese, suppo­sing, that upon such an occasion it would not be denied: But Theodoro Trivulsio highly op­pos'd the Motion, rather choosing to make his way by force of Arms, and to run the hazard of a Battle, saying it was by no means decent, and very unfit, that he who in his Life was ne­ver afraid of his Enemies should seem to ap­prehend them when he was dead. And in truth, in Affairs of almost the same Nature, by the Greek Laws, he who made Suit to an Enemy for a Body to give it Burial, did by that Act renounce his Victory, and had no more Right to erect a Trophy; and he to whom such Suit was made, was ever, what­ever otherwise the Success had been, reputed Victor. By this means it was, that Nicias lost the Advantage he had visibly obtain'd over the Corinthians, and that Agesilaus, on the contrary, assur'd what he had before very doubtfully gain'd of the Boeotians. These Proceedings might appear very odd, had it not been a ge­neral Practice in all Ages, not only to extend the Concern of our Persons beyond the Limits [Page 20] of Life, but moreover, to fansie that the Fa­vour of Heaven does not only very often ac­company us to the Grave, but has also, even after Life, a Concern for our Ashes: of which there are so many ancient Examples (waving those of our own Observation of later date) that it is not very necessary I should longer in­sist upon it. Edward King of England, and the first of that Name, having in the lo [...] Wars betwixt him and Robert King of Scot­land, had sufficient Experience of how grea [...] Importance his own immediate Presence wa [...] to the Success of his Affairs, having ever be [...] victorious in whatever he undertook in [...] own Person; when he came to die, bound [...] Son in a Solemn Oath, that so soon as he should be dead, he should boyl his Body [...] the Flesh parted from the Bones, and reser [...] them to carry continually with him in his Ar­my, so often as he should be oblig'd to go a­gainst the Scots; as if Destiny had inevitably grapled Victory even to those miserable Re­mains. Jean Zisca, the same who so often [...] Vindication of Wicklisse's Heresies, infested [...] Bohemian State, left order that they should flea him after his Death, and of his Skin [...] make a Drum, to carry in the War against [...] Enemies, fansying it would much contribu [...] to the Continuation of the Successes he had al­ways obtain'd in the War against them. I [...] like manner, certain of the Indians, in a Day of Battel with the Spaniards, carried with them the Bones of one of their Captains, i [...] consideration of the Victories they had for [Page 21] merly obtain'd under his Conduct. And other People of the same new World do yet carry about with them in their Wars the Relicks of valiant Men who have dyed in Battel, to incite their Courage, and advance their Fortune: of which Examples, the first reserve nothing for the Tomb, but the Reputation they have ac­quir'd by their former Atchievements; but these proceed yet further, and attribute a cer­tain Power of Operation. The last Act of Captain Bayard is of a much better Compositi­on; who, finding himself wounded to Death with a Harquebuze Shot, and being by his Friends importun'd to retire out of the Fight, made Answer, That he would not begin at the last Gasp to turn his Back to the Enemy; and accordingly still fought on, till feeling him­self too faint, and no longer able to sit his Horse, he commanded his Steward to set him down against the Root of a Tree, but so that he might die with his Face towards the Ene­my which he also did. I must yet add ano­ther Example equally remarkable, for the pre­sent Consideration, with any of the former. The Emperour Maximilian, great Grand-fa­ther to Philip the Second, King of Spain, was a Prince endowed throughout with great and extraordinary Qualities, and amongst the rest, with a singular Beauty of Person; but had withall, a Humour very contrary to that of o­ther Princes, who for the dispatch of their most Important Affairs convert their Close­stool into a Chair of State, which was, that he would never permit any of his Bed-Cham­ber, [Page 22] in what familiar degree of Favour soever, Modesty of Maxi­milian the Emperor. to see him in that Posture; and would steal a­side to make Water as religiously as a Virgin, and was as shy to discover either to his Physi­cian, or any other whatever, those Parts that we are accustomed to conceal: And I my self, who have so impudent a way of Talking, am nevertheless naturally so modest this way, that unless at the Importunity of Necessity, or Pleasure, I very rarely and unwillingly com­municate, to the Sight of any, either those Parts or Actions that Custom orders us to con­ceal, wherein I also suffer more Constraint than I conceive is very well becoming a Man, especially of my Profession: but he nourish'd this modest Humour to such a degree of super­stition, as to give express Orders in his last Will, that they should put him on Drawen so soon as he should be dead; to which me­thinks he would have done well to have added, that he should have been hoodwink'd too that put them on. The Charge that Cyrus left with his Children, Cyrus's Re­verence to Religion. Xenoph [...]n. that neither they nor any other should either see or touch his Body after the Soul was departed from it, I attribute to some superstitious Devotion of his; both his Historian, and Himself, amongst other great Qualities, having strew'd the whole Course of their Lives with a singular Respect to Religion. I was by no means pleas'd with a Story was told me by a Man of very great Quality, of a Relation of mine, and one who had given a very good Account of himself both in Peace and War; that coming to die in a very old [Page 23] Age, of an excessive Pain of the Stone, he spent the last Hours of his Life in an extraordinary Solicitude about ordering the Ceremony of his Funeral, pressing all the Men of Condition who came to see him, to engage their Word to at­tend him to his Grave, importuning this very Prince, who came to visit him at his last Gasp, with a most earnest Supplication, that he would order his Family to be assisting there, and withal representing before him several Reasons and Examples to prove that it was a Respect due to a Man of his Condition; and seem'd to die content, having obtain'd this Promise, and appointed the Method and Or­der of his Funeral Parade. I have seldom heard of so long liv'd a Vanity. Another, though contrary Solitude (of which also I do not want domestick Example,) seems to be somewhat a-kin to this; That a Man shall cud­gel his Brains at the last Moments of his Life, to contrive his Obsequies to so particular and unusual a Parsimony, as to conclude it in the sordid expence of one single Servant with a Candle and Lanthorn, and yet I see this Hu­mour commended, and the Appointment of Marcus Aemilius Lepidus, who forbad his Heirs to bestow upon his Hearse even the com­mon Ceremonies in use upon such Occasions. Is it not Temperance and Frugality to avoid the Expence and Pleasure of which the use and knowledge is imperceptible to us? See here an easie and cheap Reformation. If Instruction were at all necessary in this Case, I should be of Opinion, that in this, as in all other Actions of [Page 24] Life, the Ceremony and Expence should be re­gulated by the Ability of the Person deceas'd; and the Philosopher Lycon prudently order'd his Executors to dispose of his Body where they should think most fit, and as to his Fune­rals, to order them neither too superfluous, nor too mean. For my part, I should wholly referr the ordering of this Ceremony to Custom, and shall, when the time comes, accordingly leave it to their Discretion, to whose Lot▪ it shall fall to do me that last Office. Totus hic locus est contemnendus in nobis, Cicero Tusc. l. 1. non negligendus in nostris; The Place of our Sepulture is wholly to be contemn'd by us, but not to be neglected by our Friends; but it was a holy Saying of a Saint, August. de civit. Dei. Curatio funeris, conditio Sepulturae, pompa Exequiarum, magis sunt vivorum solatia, quàm subsidia mortuorum; The Care of Funerals, the Place of Sepulture, and the Pomp of Exequies, are rather Consolations to the Living than any Benefit to the Dead. Which made Socrates answer Criton, who at the Hour of his Death ask'd him, how he would be buried? How you will, said he. If I could concern my self fur­ther than the Present about this Affair, I should be most tempted, as the greatest Satis­faction of this kind, to imitate those who in their Life-time entertain themselves with the Ceremony of their own Obsequies before hand, and are pleas'd with viewing their own Mo­nument, and beholding their own dead Coun­tenance in Marble. Happy are they who can gratify their Senses by insensibility, and live by their Death! I am ready to conceive an [Page 25] implacable. Hatred against all Democracy and Popular Government, (though I cannot but think it the most natural and equitable of all others) so oft as I call to mind the inhumane Injustice of the People of Athens, who, with­out Remission, or once vouchsafing to hear what they had to say for themselves, put to death their brave Captains, newly return'd tri­umphant from a Naval Victory they had ob­tained over the Lacedaemonians near the Argi­nusian Isles; the most bloody and obstinate En­gagement that ever the Greeks fought at Sea; for no other Reason, but that they rather fol­lowed their Blow and pursued the Advantages prescribed them by the Rule of War, than that they would stay to gather up and bury their Dead: an Execution that is yet rendred more odious by the Behaviour of Diomedon, who being one of the condemn'd, and a Man of most eminent, both politick and military Vertue, after having heard their Sentence, ad­vancing to speak, no Audience till then ha­ving been allowed, instead of laying before them his own Innocency, or the Impiety of so cruel an Arrest, only express'd a Solicitude for his Judges Preservation, beseeching the Gods to convert this Sentence to their own Good, and praying that for neglecting to pay those Vows which he and his Companions had done (which he also acquainted them with) in Acknowledgment of so glorious a Success, they might not pull down the Indignation of the Gods upon them; and so without more Words went courageously to his Death. But [Page 26] Fortune a few Years after punishing them in their kind, made them see the Error of their Cruelty: for Chabrias, Captain-General of their Naval Forces, having got the better of Pollis, Admiral of Sparta, about the Isle of Naxos, totally lost the Fruits of his Success, and Content with his Victory, of very great Im­portance to their Affairs, not to incur the dan­ger of this Example, and lose a few Bodies of his dead Friends that were floating in the Sea, gave opportunity to a world of living Enemies to sail away in Safety, who afterwards made them pay dear for this unseasonable Superstiti­on.

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

As nature demonstrates to us, that several dead things retain yet an occult Sympathy and relation to Life; Wine changes its flavour and complexion in Cellars, according to the chan­ges and seasons of the Vine from whence it came; and the Flesh of Venison alters its con­dition [Page 27] and taste in the powd'ring-tub, accord­ing to the seasons of the living Flesh of its kind, as it is observed by the Curious.

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

[Page 28] So it appears, that the Soul being transpor­ted and discompos'd, turns its violence upon its self, if not supply'd with something to op­pose it, and therefore always requires an Ene­my as an object on which to discharge its Fury and Resentment. Plutarch says very well of those who are delighted with little Dogs and Monkeys; that the amorous part which is in us, for want of a legitimate Object, rather than lie idle, does after that manner forge, and create one frivolous and false; as we see that the Soul in the exercise of its Passions, inclines rather to deceive it self, by creating a false and fantastical Subject, even contrary to its own Belief, than not to have something to work upon. And after this manner Brute Beasts di­rect their Fury to fall upon the Stone or Wea­pon that has hurt them, and with their Teeth even execute their Revenge upon themselves, for the Injury they have receiv'd from ano­ther.

What causes of the misadventures that befall us do we not invent? what is it that we do [Page 29] not lay the fault to right or wrong, that we may have something to quarrel with? Those beautiful Tresses, young Lady, you may so li­berally tear off, are no way guilty, nor is it the whiteness of those delicate Breasts you so unmercifully beat, that with an unlucky Bullet has slain your beloved Brother: quarrel with something else. Livy, Livy dec. l. 5. speaking of the Roman Army in Spain, says, that for the loss of two Brothers, who were both great Captains, Flere omnes repente, & offensare capita, that they all wept, and tore their Hair. 'Tis the common practice of Affliction. And the Philosopher Bion said pleasantly of the King, who by hand­fulls pull'd his Hair off his Head for Sorrow, Does this man think that Baldness is a Remedy for Grief? Who has not seen peevish Gamesters worry the Cards with their Teeth, and swal­low whole Bales of Dice in revenge for the Loss of their Money? Xerxes whip'd the Sea, and writ a Challenge to Mount Athos; Cyrus employ'd a whole Army several days at work, to revenge himself of the River G [...]idus, for the Fright it had put him into in passing o­ver; and Caligula demolish'd a very beautiful Palace for the Pleasure his Mother had once en­joy'd there. I remember there was a Story currant, when I was a Boy, That one of our Neighbouring Kings having receiv'd a Blow from the Hand of GOD, swore he would be reveng'd, and in order to it, made Proclama­tion, that for ten Years to come no one should pray to him, or so much as mention him throughout his Dominions; by which we are [Page 30] not so much to take measure of the Folly, as the Vain-Glory of the Nation of which this Tale was told. They are Vices that indeed always go together; but such Actions as these have in them more of Presumption than want of Wit. Augustus Caesar, having been tost with a Tempest at Sea, fell to defying Neptune, and in the Pomp of the Circensian Games, to be reveng'd, depos'd his Statue from the place it had amongst the other Deities. Wherein he was less excusable than the former, and less than he was afterwards, when having lost a Battle under Quintilius Varus in Germany, in Rage and despair he went running his Head against the Walls, and crying out, O Varus! give me my Men again! for this exceeds all Folly, forasmuch as Impiety is joined with it, invading God himself, or at least Fortune, as if she had Ears that were subject to our Batte­ries; like the Thracians, who, when it Thun­ders, or Lightens, fall to Shooting against Hea­ven with Titanian Madness, as if by Flights of Arrows they intended to reduce God Al­mighty to Reason. Though the ancient Poet in Plutarch tells us,

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

LUcius Marcius, the Roman Legate in the War against Perseus King of Macedon, to gain time wherein to re-inforce his Army, set on foot some Overtures of Accommodation, with which the King being lull'd asleep, con­cluded a Cessation for certain days; by this means giving his Enemy opportunity and lei­sure to repair his Army, which was afterward the Occasion of his own Ruine. The elder sort of Senators, notwithstanding mindfull of their Fore-fathers Vertue, were by no means satisfied with this Proceeding; but on the con­trary condemn'd it, as degenerating from their ancient Practice, which they said was by Valour, and not by Artifice, Surprises, and Night En­counters; neither by pretended Flight, Ambu­scadoes, and deceitful Treaties, to overcome their enemies; never making War till having first denounc'd it, and very often assign'd both the Hour and place of Battle. Out of this ge­nerous Principle it was that they deliver'd up to Pyrrhus his treacherous Physician, and to the Hetrurians their disloyal School-Master. And this was indeed a Procedure truly Roman, and nothing ally'd to the Graecian Subtilty, nor the P [...]nick Cunning, where it was reputed a Victory of less Glory to overcome by Force [Page 32] than Fraud. Deceit may serve for a need, but he only confesses himself overcome who knows he is neither subdued by Policy, nor Misadventure, but by dint of Valour, in a fair and manly War. And it very well appears by the Discourse of these good old Senators, that this fine Sentence was not yet receiv'd amongst them, ‘ Aeneid. l. 2.— Dolus an virtus quis in Hoste requiret?’

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

In the Kingdom of Ternates, amongst those Nations which we so broadly call Barbarians, they have a Custom never to commence War till it be first denounc'd; adding withall, an ample Declaration of what they have to do it [Page 33] withall, with what, and how many Men, what Ammunitions, and what both offensive and de­fensive Arms; but that being done, they after­ward conceive it lawful to employ this Power without Reproach, any way that may best con­duce to their own ends. The ancient Florentines were so far from obtaining any Advantage over their Enemies by surprize, that they always gave them a Months Warning before they drew their Army into the Field, by the continual Tolling of a Bell they call'd Martinella. For what con­cerns us who are not so scrupulous in this Affair, and who attribute the Honour of the War to him who has the better of it, after what man­ner soever obtain'd, and who after Lysander say, Where the Lion's Skin is too short we must etch it out with the Fox's Case. The most usual Occa­sions of Surprize are deriv'd from this Practice, and we hold that there are no moments, where­in a Chief ought to be more circumspect, and to have his Eye so much at watch, as those of Parleys, and Treaties of Accommodation; as it is therefore become a general Rule a­mongst the Martial Men of these latter Times, that a Governour of a Place never ought in a time of Siege to go out to Parley. It was for this that in our Fathers days the Signeurs de Montmard and d' Assigni defending Mouson a­gainst the Count de Nassau, were so highly censur'd; yet in this Case it would be excusa­ble in that Governour, who going out, should notwithstanding do it in such manner, that the Safety and Advantage should be on his side; as Count Guido de Rangani did at Reggio (if we [Page 34] are to believe Bellay, for Guicciardine says it was he himself) when Monsieur de l' Esc [...] approach'd to parley, who stept so little away from his Fort, that a Disorder hapning in the interim of Parley, not only Monsieur de l' Es [...] and his Party, who were advanc'd with him, found themselves by much the weaker, (inso­much that Alessandro de Trivulcio was there slain) but he himself was constrain'd, as the safest way to follow the Count, and relying upon his Honour to secure himself from the danger of the Shot within the very Walls of the Town. Eumenes, being shut up in the City of Nora by Antigonus, and by him impor­tun'd to come out to speak with him, as he sent him word it was fit he should to a better Man than himself, and one who had now an Advantage over him, return'd this notable Answer, Tell him, said he that I shall never think any Man better than my self, whilst I have my Sword in my hand: and would never consent to come out to him, till first, according to his own Demand, Antigonus had deliver'd him his own Nephew Prolomaeus in Hostage. And yet some have done, rather better than worse in going out in Person to parley with the As­sailant; witness Henry de Vaux, a Cavalier of Champagne, who being besieg'd by the English in the Castle of Commercy, and Bartholomew de Bone, who commanded at the Leagure, having so sapp'd the greatest part of the Castle with­out, that nothing remain'd but setting Fire to the Props to bury the Besieg'd under the Ruines, he requested the said Henry to come out [Page 35] to speak with him for his own Good; which the other accordingly doing, with three more in Company with him, and his own evident Ruine being made apparent to him, he con­ceiv'd himself singularly oblig'd to his Enemy, to whose Discretion after he and his Garrison had surrendred themselves, Fire being pre­sently apply'd to the Mine, the Props no soo­ner began to fail, but the Castle was immedi­ately turn'd topsy turvy, no one Stone being left upon another. I could, and do, with great Facility, relie upon the Faith of another; but I should very unwillingly do it in such a Case, as it should thereby be judg'd that it was rather an Effect of my Despair, and want of Courage, than voluntary, and out of Con­fidence and Security in the Faith of him with whom I had to do.

I Saw notwithstanding lately at Mussidan, a Place not far from my House, that those who were driven out thence by our Army, and others of their Party, highly complain' d of Treachery, for that during a Treaty of Ac­commodation, and in the very interim that their Deputies were treating, they were sur­prized, and cut to pieces: a thing that per-adventure in another Age, might have had some colour of foul Play; but (as I said before) the Practice of Arms in these days is quite a­nother thing, and there is now no Confidence [Page 36] in an Enemy excusable, till after the last Sea of Obligation; and even then the Conqueror has enough to do to keep his Word; so ha­zardous a thing it is to intrust the Observation of the Faith a Man has engag'd to a Town that surrenders upon easie and favourable Conditi­ons, to the Necessity, Avarice, and Licence of a victorious Army, and to give the Souldier free Entrance into it in the heat of Bloud. Lucius Aemilius Regillus, The Faith of military Men very uncertain. a Roman Praetor having lost his time in attempting to take the City of Phocaea by force, by reason of the sin­gular valour wherewith the Inhabitants de­fended themselves against him, condition'd at last to receive them as Friends to the Peo­ple of Rome, and to enter the Town, as into a Confederate City, without any manner of Hostility; of which he also gave them all pos­sible Assurance: but having for the greater Pomp brought his whole Army in with him, it was no more in his Power, with all the En­deavour he could use, to command his Peo­ple: so that Avarice and Revenge despising and trampling under foot both his Authority and all Military Discipline, he there at once saw his own Faith violated, and a considerable part of the City sack [...] d and ruin'd before his Face. Cleomenes was wont to say, That what Mischief soever a Man could do his Enemy in time of War was above Justice, and nothing accounta­ble to it in the Sight of Gods and Men. And ac­cording to this Principle, having concluded a Cessation with those of Argos for seven days, the third Night after he fell upon them when [Page 37] they were all buried in Security and Sleep, and put them to the Sword; alledging for his Ex­cuse, That there had no Nights been menti­on'd in the Truce: but the Gods punish'd his Perfidy. In a time of Parley also, and that the Citizens were intent upon their Capitulation, the City of Cassilinum was taken by Surprize, and that even in the Age of the justest Cap­tains, and the best Discipline of the Roman Militia: for it is not said, that it is not lawful for us in Time and Place, to make advantage of our Enemies want of Understanding, as well as their want of Courage: and doubtless War has a great many Privileges, that ap­pear reasonable, even to the Prejudice of Rea­son. And therefore here the Rule fails, Ne­minem id agere ut ex alterius praedetur inscitia, Cicero de Offic. l. 3. That no one should prey upon anothers Folly. But I am astonish'd at the great Liberty al­low'd by Xenophon in such Cases, and that both by Precept, and the Example of several Ex­ploits of his compleat General. An Author of very great Authority, I confess, in those Affairs, as being in his own Person both a great Captain and a Philosopher of the first Form of Socrates▪ his Disciples; and yet I cannot con­sent to such a measure of Licence as he dispen­ses in all Things and Places. Monsieur d' Au­bigny, having besieg'd Capua, and play'd a fu­rious Battery against it, Signior Fabricio Co­lonne, Governour of the Town, having from a Bastion begun to parley, and his Souldiers in the mean time being a little more remiss in their Guard, our People took advantage of [Page 38] their Security, enter'd the Place at unawan, and put them all to the Sword. And of later Memory, at Yvoy, Signior Juliano Romero ha­ving play'd that part of a Novice to go out to Capitulate with the Constable, at his Return found his Place taken. But, that we might not scape Scot-free, the Marquiss of Pescara having laid Siege to Genoa, where Duke Octa­vio Fregosa commanded under our Protection, and the Articles betwixt them being so far ad­vanc'd that it was look'd upon as a done thing, and upon the Point to be concluded, several Spaniards in the mean time being slip'd in un­der the Privilege of the Treaty, seized on the Gates, and made use of this Treachery as an absolute and fair Victory: and since at Lig­ny in Barrois, where the Count de Brienne commanded, the Emperor having in his own Person beleagur'd that Place, and Bartheville, the said Count's Leiutenant, going out to parley, whilst he was Capitulating the Town was taken.

say they: But the Philosopher Chrysippus was of another Opinion, wherein I also concur; for he was us'd to say, That those who Run a Race, ought to imploy all the Force they have [Page 39] in what they are about, and to run as fast as they can; but that it is by no means fair in them to lay any hand upon their Adversary to stop him, nor to set a Leg before him to throw him down. And yet more generous was the Answer of that great Alexander to Polypercon who persuaded him to take the Advantage of the Nights Obscurity to fall upon Darius; By no means (said he) it is not for such a Man as I am to steal a Victory, Quint. Curt. 1. 4. Malo me fortunae poenite­at, quam victoriae pudeat, I had rather repent me of my Fortune, than be asham'd of my Vi­ctory.

'Tis a Saying, That Death discharges us of all our Obligations. However, I know some who have taken it in another Sence. Henry the Seventh, King of England, articled with Don Philip, Son to Maximilian the Emperour, and Fa­ther to the Emperour Charles the Fifth, when [Page 40] he had him upon English Ground, that the said Philip should deliver up the Duke of Suffolk of the White Rose, his mortal Enemy, who was fled into the Low Countries, into his Hands; which Philip (not knowing how to evade it) accordingly promis'd to do, but upon condi­tion nevertheless, that Henry should attempt nothing against the Life of the said Duke, which during his own Life he perform'd; but com­ing to die, in his last Will, commanded his Son to put him to Death immediately after his Decease. And lately, in the Tragedy, that the Duke of Alva presented to us in the Per­sons of the two Counts, Egmont, and Horne, at Brussels, there were very remarkable Passages, and one amongst the rest, that the said Count Egmont (upon the security of whose Word and Faith Count Horne had come and surrendred himself to the Duke of Alva) earnestly entrea­ted that he might first mount the Scaffold. to the end that Death might disinage him from the Obligation he had pass'd to the other. In which Case, methinks Death did not acquit the former of his Promise, and the second was satisfied in the good Intention of the other, e­ven though he had not died with him: for we cannot be oblig'd beyond what we are able to perform, by reason that the Effects and Inten­tions of what we promise are not at all in our Power, and that indeed we are Masters of nothing but the Will, in which, by necessity, all the Rules and whole Duty of Mankind is founded and establish'd. And therefore Count [...]gmont, conceiving his Soul and will bound [Page 41] and indepted to his Promise, although he had not the Power to make it good, had doubtless been absolv'd of his Duty, even though he had outliv'd the other; but the King of England will­fully and premeditately breaking his Faith was no more to be excus'd for deferring the Exe­cution of his Infidelity till after his Death, than Herodotus his Mason, who having inviolably, during the time of his Life, kept the Secret of the treasure of the King of Aegypt his Master, at his Death discover'd it to his Children. I have taken notice of several in my time, who, convinc'd by their Consciences of unjustly de­taining the Goods of another, have endea­vour'd to make amends by their Will, and af­ther their Decease: but they had as good do no­thing as delude themselves both in taking so much time in so pressing an Affair, and also in going about to repair an Injury with so little Demonstration of Resentment and Concern. They owe over and above something of their own, and by how much their Payment is more strict and incommodious to themselves, by so much is their Restitution more perfect, just, and meritorious; for Penitency requires Pe­nance: but they yet do worse than these, who reserve the Declaration of a mortal Animofity against their Neighbour to the last Gasp, ha­ving conceal'd it all the time of their Lives before, wherein they declare to have little re­gard of their own Honour whilst they irritate the Party offended against their Memory; and less to their Conscience, not having the Power, even out of Respect to Death it self, [Page 42] to make their Malice die with them; but ex­tending the Life of their Hatred even beyond their own. Unjust Judges, who deferr Judg­ment to a time wherein they can have no Knowledge of the Cause! For my part, I shall take Care, if I can, that my Death discover nothing that my Life has not first openly ma­nifested, and publickly declar'd.

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

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

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

When I lately retir'd my self to my own House, with a Resolution, as much as possibly I could, to avoid all manner of Concern in Af­fair, and to spends in privacy and repose the little remainder of time I have to Live: I fan­si'd [Page 44] I could not more oblige my mind than to suffer it at full leisure to entertain and divert it self, which I also now hop'd it might the bet­ter be entrusted to do, as being by Time and Observation become more settled and mature; but I find, ‘ Lucan. l. 4.—variam semper dant otia mentem.’

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

THere is not a Man living, whom it would so little become to speak of Memory as my self, for I have none at all; and do not think that the World has again another so treacherous as mine. My other Faculties are all very ordinary and mean; but in this I think my self very singular, and to such a Degree [Page 45] of Excellence, that (besides the inconvenience I suffer by it, which merits something) I deserve methinks, to be famous for it, and to have more than a common Reputation: though, in truth the necessary use of Memory consider'd, Plato had Reason when he call'd it a great and pow­erful Goddess. In my Country, when they would decypher a Man that has no Sense, they say, such a one has no Memory; and when I complain of mine, they seem not to believe I am in earnest, and presently reprove me, as tho I accus'd my self for a Fool, not discerning the Difference betwixt Memory and Under­standing; wherein they are very wide of my Intention, and do me wrong: Experience rather daily shewing us on the contrary, that a strong Memory is commonly coupled with in­firm Judgment: and they do me moreover (who am so perfect in nothing as the good Friend) at the same time a greater Wrong in this, that they make the same Words which accuse my Infirmity, represent me for an ingrateful Person; wherein they bring my Integrity and good Nature into Question upon the account of my Memory, and from a natural Imperfe­ction, unjustly derive a defect of Conscience. He has forgot, says one, this Request, or that Promise; he no more remembers his Freinds, he has forgot, to say or do, or to conceal such and such a thing for my sake. And truly, I am apt enough to forget many things, but to neglect any thing my Friend has given me in charge, I never do it. And it should be enough methinks, that I feel the Misery and Inconveni­ence [Page 46] of it, without branding me with Malice, a Vice so much a Stranger, and so contrary to my Nature. However, I derive these Com­forts from my Infirmity; first, that it is an E­vil from which principally I have found reason to correct a worse, that would easily enough have grown upon me; namely, Ambition; this Defect being intolerable in those who take up­on them the Negotiations of the World, an Employment of the greatest Honour and Trust among Men: Secondly, that (as several like Examples in the Progress of Nature demon­strate to us) she has fortified me in my other Faculties, proportionably as she has unfur­nish'd me in this; I should otherwise have been apt implicitely to have repos'd my Wit and Judgment upon the bare Report of o­ther Men, without ever setting them to work upon any Inquisition whatever, had the strange Inventions and Opinions of the Au­thors I have read, been ever present with me by the Benefit of Memory: Thirdly, That by this Means I am not so talkative, for the Ma­gazine of the Memory is ever better furnish'd with matter than that of the Invention; and had mine been faithful to me, I had ere this, deaf'd all my Friends with my eternal Babble, the Subjects themselves rowsing and stirring up the little Faculty I have of handling, and ap­plying them, heating and extending my Dis­course. 'Tis a great Imperfection, and what I have observ'd in several of my intimate Friends, who, as their Memories supply them with a present and entire Review of things, [Page 47] derive their Narratives from so remote a Fountain, and crowd them with so many im­pertinent Circumstances, that though the Sto­ry be good in it self, they make a shift to spoil it; and if otherwise, you are either to curse the Strength of their Memory, or the Weak­ness of their Judgment: And it is a hard thing to close up a Discourse, and to cut it short, when you are once in, and have a great deal more to say. Neither is there any thing wherein the Force and Readiness of a Horse is so much seen, as in a round, graceful, and sudden stop; and I see even those who are pertinent enough, who would, but cannot stop short in their Career; for whilst they are seeking out a handsome Period to conclude the Sence, they talk at ran­dom, and are so perplex'd, and entangled in their own Eloquence, that they know not what they say. But above all, old Men, who yet retain the Memory of things past, and for­get how often they have told them, are the most dangerous Company for this fault; and I have known Stories from the Mouth of a Man of very great Quality, otherwise very pleasant in themselves becoming very troublesome, by being a Hundred times repeated over and over again. The fourth Obligation I have to this infirm Memory of mine is, that by this means I less remember the Injuries I have receiv'd; insomuch, that (as the Ancient said) I should have a Protocoll, a Register of Injuries, or a Prompter, like Darius, who, that he might not forget the Offence he had receiv'd from those of Athens, so oft as he sat down to [Page 48] Dinner, order'd one of his Pages three times to whoop in his Ear, Sir, Remember the Athe­nians: and also, the Places which I revisit, and the Books I read over again, still smile upon me with a fresh Novelty. It is not with­out good Reason said, That he who has not a good Memory should never take upon him the Trade of Lying. I know very well, that the Grammarians distinguish betwixt an Untruth and a Lye, and say that to tell an Untruth [...] to tell a thing that is false, but that we our selves believes to be true; and that to Lye, is to tell a thing that we know in our Consci­ence to be utterly false and untrue; and it is of this last sort of Lyars only that I now speak. Now these do either wholly contrive and in­vent the Untruths they utter, or so alter and disguise a true Story, that it always ends in a Lye; and when they disguise and often alter the same Story according to their own Fancy, 'tis very hard for them at one time or another to escape being trap'd, by reason that the real Truth of the thing having first taken Possession of the Memory, and being there lodg'd, and imprinted by the way of Knowledge and Sci­ence, it will be ever ready to present it self to the Imagination, and to shoulder out any Falshood of their own contriving, which can­not there have so sure and settled Footing as the other; and the Circumstances of the first true Knowledge evermore running in their Minds, will be apt to make them forget those that are illegitimate, and only forg'd by their own Fancy. In what they wholly invent, [Page 49] forasmuch as there is no contrary Impression to justle their Invention, there seems to be less danger of tripping; and yet even this also, by reason it is a vain Body, and without any other Foundation than fancy only, is very apt to escape the Memory, if they be not careful to make themselves very perfect in their Tale. Of which I have had very Pleasant Experience, at the Expence of such as Profess only to form, and accommodate their Speech to the Affair they have in hand, or to the Humour of the Person with whom they have to do; for the Circumstances to which these men stick not to enslave their Consciences, and their Faith being subject to several Changes, their Language must accordingly vary: From whence it hap­pens, that of the same thing they tell one Man, that it is this, and another that it is that, giving it several Forms, and Colours; which Men, if they once come to confert Notes, and find out the Cheat, what becomes of this fine Art? To which may be added, that they must of Ne­cessity very often ridiculously trap themselves; for, what Memory can be sufficient to retain so many different Shapes as they have forg [...]d up­on one and the same Subject? I have known many in my Time, very ambitious of the re­pute of this fine piece of Discretion; but they do not see, that if there be a Reputation of being wise, there is really no Prudence in it. In plain Truth, Lying is a hateful and an ac­cursed Vice. We are not Men, nor have other Tye upon one another, but our Word. If we did but discover the Horror and ill Consequen­ces [Page 50] of it, we should pursue it with Fire and Sword, and more justly than other Crimes. I see that Parents commonly, and with Indiscre­tion enough, correct their Children for lit­tle innocent Faults, and torment them for wanton childish Tricks, that have neither Im­pression, nor tend to any Consequence: where­as, in my Opinion, Lying only, and (what is of something a lower Form) Stomach, are the Faults which are to be severely whip'd out of them, both in the Infancy and Progress of the Vices, which will otherwise grow up and in­crease with them; and after a Tongue has once got the Knack of lying, 'tis not to be imagined how impossible almost it is to reclaim it. Whence it comes to pass, that we see some, who are otherwise very honest Men, so subject to this Vice. I have an honest Lad to my Taylor, who I never knew guilty of one Truth, no not when it had been to his Advan­tage. If Falshood had, like Truth, but one Face only, we should be upon better Terms; for we should then take the contrary to what the Lyar says for certain Truth; but the Re­verse of Truth has an hundred thousand Fi­gures, and a Field indefinite without Bound or Limit. The Pythagoreans make Good to be certain and finite, and Evil, infinite and un­certain; there are a thousand ways to miss the White, there is only one to hit it. For my own part, I have this Vice in so great horror, that I am not sure I could prevail with my Conscience to secure my self from the most manifest and extream Danger, by an impu­dent [Page 51] and solemn Lye. An ancient Father says, That a Dog we know is better Company than a Man whose Language we do not understand. Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. 7▪ cap. 1. Ut externus non alieno sit hominis vice, As a Fo­reigner, to one that understands not what he says, cannot be said to supply the Place of a Man, be­cause he can be no Company. And how much less sociable is false Speaking than Silence? King Francis the First bragg'd, that he had, by this means, non-plus'd Francisco Taverna, the Embassador of Francisco Sforza, Duke of Milan, a Man very famous for his Eloquence in those days. This Gentleman had been sent to excuse his Master to his Majesty about a thing of very great Consequence; which was this: King Francis, to maintain evermore some intelligence in Italy, out of which he had lately been driven, and particularly in the Dutchy of Milan, had thought it (to that end) convenient to have evermore a Gentleman on his Behalf to lie Leiger in the Court of that Duke; an Am­bassador in Effect, but in outward Appearance no other than a private Person who pretended to reside there upon the single Account of his own particular Affairs; which was so carried, by reason that the Duke, much more depending upon the Emperour, especially at a time when he was in a Treaty of a Marriage with his Neece, Daughter to the King of Denmark, and since Dowager of Lorrain, could not own any Friendship or intelligence with us, but very much to his own Prejudice. For this Com­mission then one Merveille a Milanois Gen­tleman, and Epuerry to the King, being [Page 52] thought very fit, he was accordingly dis­patch'd thither with private Letters of Cre­dence, his Instructions of Ambassador, and other Letters of Recommendation to the Duke about his own private Concerns, the better to co­lour the Business; and so long continued in that Court, that the Emperour at last had some Incling of his real Employment there, and complain'd of it to the Duke, which was the Occasion of what followed after, as we suppose; which was, that under Pretence of a Murther by him committed, his Tryal was in two days dispath'd, and his Head in the Night struck off in Prison. Signior Francis­co then being upon this Account, come to the Court of France, and prepar'd with a long counterfeit Story to excuse a thing of so dan­gerous Example, (for the King had apply'd himself to all the Princes of Christendom, as well as to the Duke himself, to demand Satis­faction for this Outrage upon the Person of his Minister) had his Audience at the morning Council; where, after he had for the Support of his Cause, in a long premeditated Oration, laid open several plausible Justifications of the Fact, he concluded, that the Duke his Master had never look [...]d upon this Merveille for other than a private Gentleman, and his own Sub­ject, who was there only in order to his own Business, neither had he ever liv'd after any other manner; absolutely disowning that he had ever heard he was one of the King's Do­mestick Servants, or that his Majesty so much as knew him, so far was he from taking him [Page 53] for an Ambassadour. When having made an end, and the King pressing him with several Objections and Demands, and sifting him on all hands, gravell'd him at last, by asking, why then the Execution was perform'd by Night, and as it were by Stealth? At which the poor confounded Ambassador, the more handsomly to disingage himself, made Answer, That the Duke would have been very loath, out of Re­spect to his Majesty, that such an Execution should have been perform'd in the Face of the Sun. Any one may guess if he was not well school'd when he came home, for having so gro­sly trip'd in the Presence of a Prince of so deli­cate a Nostril as King Francis. Pope Julius the Second, having sent an Ambassadour to the King of England, to animtate him against King Francis, the Ambassadour having had his Audi­ence, and the King, before he would give a posi­tive Answer, insisting upon the Difficulties he found in setting on foot so great a Preparation as would be necessary to attack so Potent a King, and urging some Reasons to that Effect, the Ambassadour very unseasonably reply [...]d, That he had also himself considered the same dif­ficulties, and had represented as much to the Pope. From which saying of his, so directly opposite to the Thing propounded, and the Bu­siness he came about, which was immediately to incite him to War, the King first deriv'd Argument (which also he afterwards sound to be true) that this Ambassadour, in his own pri­vate Bosom, was a Friend to the French; of which having advertis'd the Pope, his Estate at [Page 54] his Return home was confiscate, and himself very narrowly escap'd the losing of his Head.

AS we see in the Gift of Eloquence, where­in some have such a Facility and Prompt­ness, and that which we call a present Wit, so easie, that they are ever ready upon all Occa­sions, and never to be surpriz'd: And others more heavy and slow, never venture to utter any thing but what they have long Premedita­ted, and taken great Care and Pains to fit and Prepare. Now, as we teach young Ladies those Sports and Exercises which are most Pro­per to set out the Grace and Beauty of those Parts wherein their chiefest Ornament and Perfection lie; so in these two advantages of Eloquence, to which the Lawyers and Preachers of our Age seem Principally to pretend. If I were worthy to advise, the slow Speaker, methinks, should be more Pro­per for the Pulpit, and the other for the Bar; and that because the Employment of the first does naturally allow him all the Leisure he can desire to prepare himself, and besides, his Car­reer is perform'd in an even and unintermit­ted Line, without stop or interruption▪ whereas, the Pleader's Business and Interest [Page 55] compells him to enter the Lists upon all Occa­sions, and the unexpected Objections and Re­plies of his adverse Party, justle him out of his Course, and put him upon the Instant, to pump for new and extempore Answers and De­fences. Yet, at the Interview betwixt Pope Clement and King Francis at Marceilles, it hap­ned quite contrary, that Monsieur Poyet, a man bred up all his Life at the Bar, and in the high­est Repute for Eloquence, having the Charge of making the Harangue to the Pope commit­ted to him, and having so long meditated on it before-hand, as (it was said) to have brought it ready made along with him from Paris; the very day it was to have been pronounc'd, the Pope, fearing some thing might be said that might give Offence to the other Princes Am­bassadors who were there attending on him, sent to acquaint the King with the Argument which he conceiv'd most suiting to the Time and Place, but by Chance quite another thing to that Monsieur de Poyet had taken so much Pains about: So that the fine Speech he had prepared, was of no use, and he was upon the Instant to contrive another; which finding himself unable to do, Cardinal Bellay was con­strain'd to perform that Office. The Pleader's Part is, doubtless, much harder than that of the Preacher; and yet, in my Opinion we see more passable Lawyers than Preachers. It should seem that the nature of Wit is, to have its operation prompt and sudden, and that of Judgment, to have it more deliberate, and more slow: but he who remains totally silent [Page 56] for want of leisure to prepare himself to speak well, and he also whom leisure does no ways benefit to better speaking, are equally unhap­py. 'Tis said of Severus, Severus Cassius. that he spoke best extempore, that he stood more oblig'd to For­tune, than his own Diligence, that it was an advantage to him to be interrupted in speaking, and that his Adversaries were afraid to nettle him, lest his Anger should redouble his Elo­quence. I know experimentally, a Dispositi­on so impatient of a tedious and elaborate Pre­mediation, that if it do not go frankly and gayly to work, can perform nothing to purpose We say of some Compositions, that they stink of Oyl, and smell of the Lamp, by reason of a certain rough harshness that the la­borious handling imprints upon those where great Force has been employ'd: but besides this, the solicitude of doing well, and a certain striving and contending of a mind too far strain'd, and over-bent upon its Underta­king, breaks, and hinders it self, like Water, that by force of its own pressing violence and abundance cannot find a ready issue through the neck of a Bottle, or a narrow Sluce. In this condition of Nature, of which I was now speaking, there is this also, that it would not be disorder'd and stimulated with such a Pas­sion as the Fury of C [...]ssius; for such a Motion would be too violent and rude: it would not be justled, but sollicited, and would be rouz'd and heated by unexpected, sudden, and acci­dental Occasions. If it be left to it self, it flags and languishes, Agitation only gives it grace [Page 57] and vigour. I am always worst in my own pos­session, and when wholly at my own dispose. Accident has more title to any thing that comes from me, than I; Occasion, Company, and even the very rising and falling of my own Voice, extract more from my Fancy, than I can find when I examine and employ it by my self; by which means, the things I say are better than those I write, if either were to be preferr'd where neither are worth any thing. This al­so befalls me, that I am at a loss, when I seek, and light upon things more by chance, than by any inquisition of my own Judgment. I perhaps sometimes hit upon something when I write that seems queint and spritely to me, but will appear dull and heavy to another. But let us leave this Subject. Every one talks thus of himself according to his Talent. For my part, I am already so lost in it, that I know not what I was about to say, and in such cases, a stranger often finds it out before me. If I should always carry my Razor about me, to use so oft as this inconvenience befalls me, I should make clean work: but some Occurrence or other, may at some other time, lay it as visible to me as the Light, and make me wonder what I should stick at.

FOr what concerns Oracles, it is certain, that a good while before the coming of our Saviour Christ, they began to lose their [Page 58] Credit; for we see that Cicero is troubled to find out the cause of their decay, in these words; Cic. de Di­vin. l. 2. Cur isto mod [...] jam Oracula Delphis eduntur, non modo nostra aetate, sed jam diu, ut nihil possit esse contemptius? What should be the reason that the Oracles at Delphos are so ut­ter'd, not only in this Age of ours, but moreover a great while ago, that nothing can be more contemptible? But as to the other Prognosticks, calculated from the Ana­tomy of Beasts at Sacrifices, (which Plato does in part attribute to the natural Constitution of the Intestines of the Beasts themselves) the scraping of Poultry, the flights of Birds: Aves quasdam rerum augurandarum causa na­tas esse putamus; Cic. dè Na­tura Deor. l. 2. We think some sorts of Birds to be purposely created upon the account of Augury, Claps of Thunder, the winding of Rivers, Ibid. Multa cernunt Aruspices, multa Augures provident, multa Oraculis decla­rantur, multa Vaticinationibus, multa Somniis, mul­ta Portentis, Soothsayers and Augurs conjecture and foresee many things, and many things are foretold in Oracles, Prophecies, Dreams and Portents; and others of the like Nature, upon which Antiquity founded most of thei: Publick and Private Enterprizes, Christian Religion has totally abolish'd. And although there yet remain amongst us some Practices of Divination from the Stars, from Spirits, from the Shapes and Complexions of men, from Dreams and the like, (a notable Ex­ample of the wild curiosity of our Nature to grasp at and anticipate future things, as if [Page 59] we had not enough to do to digest the pre­sent.

( Ne utile quidem est scire quid futurum sit: Mi­serum est enim nihil proficientem angi: It is not indeed convenient to know what shall come to pass; for it is a miserable thing to be vex'd and tormented to no purpose.) Yet are they of much less Authority now than heretofore. Which makes the Example of Francis Mar­quess of Saluzzo, so much more remarkable; who being Lieutenant to King Francis the First, in his Army beyond the Mountains, in­finitely favour [...]d and esteem'd in our Court, and oblig'd to the King's Bounty for the Mar­quisate it self, which had been forfeited by his Brother; and as to the rest, having no manner of Provocation given him to do it, and even his own Affection opposing any such [Page 60] Disloyalty; suffer'd himself to be so terrified (as it was confidently reported) with the fine Prognosticks that were spread abroad in fa­vour of the Emperour Charles the Fifth, and to our Disadvantage, (especially in Italy, where these foolish Prophecies were so far be­liev'd, that great Sums of Money were laid, and others ventur'd out upon return of greater when they came to pass, so certain they made themselves of our Ruine) that having bewail'd to those of his Acquaintance who were most intimate with him, the Mischiefs that he saw would inevitably fall upon the Crown of France, and the Friends he had in that Court, he unhandsomly revolted, and turn'd to the other side; but to his own Misfortune never­theless, what Constellation soever govern'd at that time. But he carried himself in this Af­fair like a Man agitated with divers Passions; for having both Towns and Forces in his hands, the Enemy's Army under Antonio de Leva close by him, and we not at all suspecting his Design, it had been in his Power to have done more than he did; for he lost no Men by this Infi­delity of his, nor any Town, but Fossan only, and that after a long Siege, and a brave De­fence.

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

[Page 62] The so celebrated Art of Divination amongst the Tuscans, took its Beginning thus: A La­bourer striking deep with his Coulter into the Earth, saw the Demy-God Indigniae dixere Ta­g [...]m, qui primus He­truscam Edocuit gentem ca­sus aperire futuros. Ovid. Me­ta. l. 15. Tages to ascend with an Infantile Aspect, but endued with a mature and Senile Wisdom. Upon the Ru­mour of which all the People ran to see the sight, by whom his Words and Science, con­taining the Principles and means to attain to this Art, were recorded, and kept for many Ages. A Birth suitable to its Progress! I for my part should sooner regulate my Affairs by the chance of a Dye, than by such idle and vain Dreams. And indeed, in all Republicks, a good share of the Government has ever been referr'd to chance. Plato, in the civil Regiment that he models according to his own Fancy, leaves the Decision of several things of very great Importance wholly to it, and will, a­mongst other things, that such Marriages as he reputes legitimate and good, be appointed by Lot, and attributing so great Vertue, and adding so great a Privilege to this accidental choice, as to ordain the Children begot in such Wedlock to be brought up in the Country, and those begot in any other to be thrust out as spurious and base; yet so, that if any of those Exiles, notwithstanding, should peradven­ture in growing up give any early hopes of future Vertue, they were in a Capacity of be­ing recall'd, as those also who had been re­tain [...]d, were of being exil'd in case they gave little Expectation of themselves in their gree­ner Years. I see some who are mightily given to [Page 63] Study, pore and comment upon their Alma­nacks, and produce them for Authority when any thing has fallen out patt: though it is hard­ly possible, but that these well-Wishers to the Mathematicks in saying so much, must some­times stumble upon some Truths amongst an infinite Number of Lyes. Adagium Cic. de Di­vin. Quis est enim qui totum diem jaculans non aliquando conlineet? For who shoots all day at Buts that does not some­times hit the White? I think never the better of them for some accidental Hits. There would be more certainty in it, if there were a Rule and a Truth of always lying. Besides, no Body records their Flimflams and false Prognosticks, forasmuch as they are infinite and common; but if they chop upon one Truth, that carries a mighty Report, as being rare, incredible, and prodigious. So Diogenes, surnam'd the Atheist, answer'd him in Samothrace, who shewing him in the Temple the several Offerings and Stories, in Painting, of those who had escap'd Ship­wrack, said to him, Look you (saith he) you who think the Gods have no care of humane things, what do you say by so many Person's preserv'd from Death by their especial Favour? Why, I say, (answer'd he) that their Pictures are not here who were cast away, which were by much the greater number. Cicero observes, that of all the Philosophers who have acknowledg'd a Dei­ty, Xenophanes only has endeavour'd to eradi­cate all manner of Divination: which makes it the less a Wonder, if we have sometimes seen some of our Princes, to their own cost, [Page 64] relie too much upon these Fopperies. I wish I had given any thing, that I had with my own Eyes seen those two great Rareties, the Book of Joachim the Calabrian Abbot, which foretold all the future Popes, their Names and Figures; and that of the Emperour Leo, which prophe­sied of all the Emperours and Patriarchs of Greece. This I have been an Eye-witness of, that in publick Confusions, men astonish'd at their Fortune, have abandon'd their own Rea­son superstitiously to seek out in the Stars the ancient Causes and Menaces of their present mishaps, and in my time have been so strangely successful in it, as to make men believe, that this Study, being proper to fix and settle pier­cing and volatile Wits, those who have been any thing vers'd in this knack of unfolding and untying Riddles, are capable in any sort of Writing, to find out what they desire. But above all, that which gives them the greatest Room to play in, is the obscure, ambiguous, and fantastick Gibberish of their prophetick Canting, where their Authors deliver nothing of clear Sence, but shroud all in Riddle, to the end that Posterity may interpret, and apply it according to their own Fancy. Socrates his Daemon, or Familiar, might perhaps be no other but a certain Impulsion of the will, which ob­truded it self upon him without the advice or consent of his Judgment; and in a Soul so en­lightned as his was, and so prepar'd by a con­tinual exercise of Wisdom and Virtue, 'tis to be suppos'd, those Inclinations of his, though sudden and undigested, were ever very impor­tant, [Page 65] and worthy to be follow'd. Every one finds in himself some Image of such Agitations, of a prompt, vehement, and fortuitous Opi­nion. 'Tis I that am to allow them some Au­thority, who attribute so little to our own Prudence, and who also my self have had some, weak in Reason, but violent in Persuasion and Dissuasion, (which were most frequent with Socrates) by which I have suffer'd my self to be carried away so fortunately, and so much to my own Advantage, that they might have been judg'd to have had something in them of a Divine Inspiration.

THE Law of Resolution and Constancy does not imply, that we ought not, as much as in us lies, to decline, and to secure our selves from the Mischiefs and Inconveni­ences that threaten us; nor consequently, that we shall not fear lest they should surprize us: on the contrary, all decent and honest ways and means of securing our selves from Harms, are not only permitted, but moreover com­mendable, and the Business of Constancy chiefly is, bravely to stand to, and stoutly to suffer those Inconveniences which are not o­therwise possibly to be avoided. There is no motion of Body, nor any guard in the handling of Arms, how irregular or ungraceful soever, [Page 66] that we dislike or condemn, if they serve to deceive or to defend the Blow that is made a­gainst us; insomuch, that several very war­like Nations have made use of a retiring and flying way of Fight, as a thing of singular Ad­vantage, and by so doing have made their Backs more dangerous than their Faces to their Enemies. Of which kind of Fighting, the Turks yet retain something in their Pra­ctice of Arms to this day; and Socrates in Pla­to, laughs a Laches, who had defin'd Forti­tude to be at standing firm in their Ranks a­gainst the Enemy: What (says he) would it then be a reputed Cowardice to overcome them by giving Ground? urging at the same time the Authority of Homer, who commends Aeneas for his Skill in running away. And whereas Laches, considering better on't, justifies his first Argument upon the Practice of the Scy­thians, and in general all Cavalry whatever. He again attacks him with the Example of the Lacedaemonian Foot, (a Nation of all other the most obstinate in maintaining their Ground) who in all the Battel of Platea, not being able to break into the Persian Phalanx, unbethought themselves to disperse and retire, that by the Enemies supposing they fled, they might break, and disunite that vast Body of Men in the Pur­suit, and by that Stratagem obtain'd the Victo­ry. As for the Scythians, 'tis said of them, that when Darius went his Expedition to sub­due them, he sent, by an Herald, highly to reproach their King, That he always retir'd be­fore him and declin'd a Battel; to which In­dathyrsez [Page 67] (for that was his Name) return'd An­swer, That it was not for fear of him, or of any Man living, that he did so, but that it was the way of Marching in practice with his Nati­on, who had neither till'd Fields, Cities, nor Houses to defend, or to fear the Enemy should make any Advantage of: but that if he had such a Stomach to fight, let him but come to view their ancient place of Sepulture, and there he should have his Fill. Nevertheless as to what con­cerns Cannon Shot, when a Body of Men are drawn up in the Face of a Train of Artillery, as the Occasion of War does often require, 'tis unhandsome to quit their Post to avoid the Danger, and a foolish thing to boot, foras­much as by reason of its Violence and Swift­ness we account it inevitable, and many a one, by ducking, steping aside, and such other mo­tions of Fear, has been sufficiently laugh'd at by his Companions And yet in the Expedi­tion that the Emperour Charles the Fifth made into Prov [...]nce, the Marquis de Guast going to discover the City of Arles, and venturing to advance out of the Blind of a Wind-mill, un­der favour of which he had made his Approach, was perceiv'd by the Seigneurs de Bonneval and the Seneschall of Agenois, who were walk­ing upon the Theatre Aux arenes; who ha­ving shew'd him to the Sieur de Villiers, A Theatre where publick Shews of Riding, Fenceing, &c. were exhibited. Com­missary of the Artillery, he travers'd a Culve­rine so admirable well, and levell'd it so exact­ly right against him, that had not the Marquis, seeing Fire given to it, slip'd aside, it was certainly concluded, the Shot had taken him [Page 68] full in the Body. And in like manner, some Years before, Lorenzo de Medici, Duke of Urbin, and Father to the Queen-Mother of France, laying Siege to Mondolpho, a Place in the Territories of the Vicariat in Italy, seeing the Cannoneer give Fire to a Piece that poin­ted directly against him, it was well for him that he duck'd, for otherwise, the Shot, that only ras'd the top of his Head, had doubtless hit him full in the Breast. To say truth, I do not think that these Evasions are perform'd upon the account of Judgment; for how is any Man living able to Judge of high or low Aim on so sudden an Occasion? And it is much more easie to believe, that Fortune fa­vour'd their Apprehension, and that it might be a means at another time, as well to make them step into the danger, as to teach them to avoid it. For my own part I confess, I cannot forbear starting when the Rattle of a Harquebuze thunders in my Ears on a sudden, and in a place where I am not to expect it, which I have also observ'd in others, brave [...] Fellows than I; neither do the Stoicks pre­tend, that the Soul of their Philosopher should be proof against the first Visions and Fantasies that surprize him; but as a natural Sub­ject, consent that he should tremble at the terrible noise of Thunder, or the sudden clat­ter of some falling Ruine, and be affrighted even to Paleness and Convulsion. And so in other Passions, provided a Man's Judgment remain sound and intire, and that the Site of his Reason s [...]ffer, no Concussion nor Altera­tion, [Page 69] and that he yields no consent to his Fright and Discomposure. To him who is not a Philosopher, a Fright is the same in the first part of it, but quite another thing in the second; for the Impression of Passions does not remain only superficially in him, but pe­netrates further, even to the very Seat of Rea­son and so, as to infect and to corrupt it. He Judges according to his Fear, and conforms his Behaviour to it. But in this Verse you may see the true State of the wise Stoick lear­nedly and plainly express'd: ‘ Virg. Aen. l. 2.Mens immota manet, lacrymae volvuntur inanes.’

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

THere is no Subject so frivolous, that does not merit a Place in this Rhapsody. Ac­ [...]ording to the common Rule of Civility, it would be a kind of an Affront to an Equal, [...]nd much more to a Superiour, to fail of be­ing at home, when he has given you notice he will come to visit you. Nay, Queen Mar­garet [Page 70] of Navarre further adds, that it would be a Rudeness in a Gentleman to go out to meet any that is coming to see him, let him be of what condition soever; and that it is more respective, and more civil to stay a [...] home to receive him, if only upon the ac­count of missing of him by the way, and that it is enough to receive him at the door, and to wait upon him to his Chamber. For my part, who as much as I can endeavour to reduce the Ceremonies of my House, I very often forget both the one and the other of these vain Offices, and peradventure some one may take Offence at it; if he do, I am sorry, but I cannot find in my heart to help it; it is much better to offend him once, than my self every day, for it would be a perpetual slave­ry; and to what end do we avoid the servile attendance of Courts, if we bring the same, or a greater trouble, home to our own pri­vate Houses? It is also a common Rule in all Assemblies, that those of less quality are to be first upon the Place, by reason that it is a State more due to the better Sort to make others wait and expect them. Nevertheless, at the Interview betwixt Pope Clement and King Francis at M [...]rseilles, the King, after he had in his own Person taken order in the ne­cessary Preparations for his Reception and Entertainment, withdrew out of the Town, and gave the Pope two or three days re­spite for his Entry, and wherein to repose and refresh himself before he came to him. And in like manner, at the Assignation of the [Page 71] Pope and the Emperour at Bolognia, the Empe­rour gave the Pope leave to come thither first, and came himself after; for which, the reason then given was this; that at all the Interviews of such Princes, the greater ought to be first at the appointed Place, especially before the other, in whose Territories the Interview is appointed to be, intimating thereby a kind of deference to the other, it appearing proper for the less to seek out, and to apply themselves to the greater, and not the greater to them. Not every Country only, but every City, and so much as every Society, have their particu­lar Forms of Civility. There was care e­nough taken in my Education, and I have liv'd in good Company enough to know the Forma­lities of our own Nation, and am able to give Lesson in it; I love also to follow them, but not to be so servilely tyed to their observati­on, that my whole Life should be enslav'd to Ceremony; of which there are some, that provided a man omits them out of Discretion, and not for want of breeding, it will be eve­ry whit as handsom. I have seen some Peo­ple rude, by being over-civil, and trouble­some in their Courtesie: though, these Exces­ses excepted, the knowledge of Courtesie and good Manners is a very necessary study. It is, like Grace and Beauty, that which begets li­king and an inclination to love one another at the first sight, and in the beginning of an Ac­quaintance and Familiarity; and consequent­ly, that which first opens the door, and in­tromits us to Better our selves by the Exam­ple [Page 72] of others, if there be any thing in the So­ciety worth taking notice of.

VAlour has its bounds, as well as other Vertues, which once transgress'd, the next step is into the Territories of Vice, so that by having too large a Proportion of this Heroick Vertue, unless a man be very perfect in its limits, which upon the Confines are ve­ry hard to discern, he may very easily una­wares run into Temer [...]ty, Obstinacy, and Folly. From this consideration it is, that we have deriv'd the Custom in times of War, to punish even with Death those who are obsti­nate to defend a Place that is not tenible by the Rules of War. In which case, if there were not some Examples made, Men would be so confident upon the hopes of Impunity, that not a Hen-roost but would resist, and stop a Royal Army. The Constab [...]e Monsieur de Montmorency, having at the Siege of Pavie been order'd to pass the Tesine, and to take up his Quarters in the Fauxburg St. Antonie, being hindred so to do by a Tower that was at the end of the Bridge, which was so impu­dent as to endure a Battery, hang'd every man he found within it for their labour. And [Page 73] again since, accompanying the Dauphine in his Expedition beyond the Alpes, and taking the Castle of Villane by Assault, and all within it being put to the Sword, the Governour and his Ensign only excepted, he caus'd them both to be truss'd up for the same reason; as also did Captain Martin du Bellay, then Governour of Turin, the Governour of St. Bony, in the same Countrey, all his People being cut in pie­ces at the taking of the Place. But forasmuch as the Strength or Weakness of a Fortress is al­ways measur'd by the Estimate and Counter­poise of the Forces that attack it (for a Man might reasonably enough despise two Culverines, that would be a Mad-man to abide a Battery of thirty pieces of Canon) where also the greatness of the Prince who is Master of the Field, his Reputation, and the Respect that is due unto him, is al­ways put into the Balance; 'tis dangerous to affront such an Enemy: And besides, by com­pelling him to force you, you possess him with so great an Opinion of himself and his Power, that thinking it unreasonable any place should dare to shut their Gates against his victorious Army, he puts all to the Sword, where he meets with any Opposition, whilst his Fortune continues; as is very plain in the fierce and arrogant Forms of summoning Towns, and denouncing War: savouring so much of Bar­barian Pride and Insolence in use amongst the Oriental Princes, and which their Successors to this day do yet retain and practise. And even in that remote Part of the World where the [Page 74] Portuguese subdued the Indians, they found some States where it was an universal and in­violable Law amongst them, that every Enemy, overcome by the King in Person, or by his representative Lieutenant, was out of Compo­sition both of Ransom and Mercy. So that a­bove all things a Man should take heed of fal­ling into the hands of a Judge who is an Ene­my and Victorious.

I Once heard of a Prince, and a great Captain, having a Narration given him as he sat at Table of the proceeding against Monsieur de Vervins, who was sentenc'd to Death for ha­ving surrendred Bullen to the English, openly maintain'd, that a Souldier could not justly be put to Death for his want of Courage. And, in truth, a Man should make a great Diffe­rence betwixt Faults that merely proceed from Infirmity, and those that are visibly the Ef­fects of Treachery and Malice; for in the last they will fully act against the Rules of Reason that Nature has imprinted in us; whereas in the former it seems as if we might produce the same Nature, who left us in such a state of Imperfection, and defect of Courage for our justification. Insomuch, that many have thought we are not justly questionable for any thing, but what we commit against the Light [Page 75] of our own Conscience. And it is partly upon this Rule, that those ground their Opinion, who disapprove of Capital and Sanguinary Pu­nishments inflicted upon Hereticks and Mis­creants; and theirs also, who hold that an Ad­vocate or a Judge are not accountable for ha­ving ignorantly fail'd in their Administration. But as to Cowardice, it is most certain, that the most usual way of chastising that is by Igno­miny and Disgrace; and it is suppos'd, that this Practice was first brought into use by the Legislator Cherondas; and that before his time the Laws of Greece punish'd those with Death who fled from a Battel; whereas he ordain'd only that they should be three days expos'd in the publick Place dress'd in Womens Attire, hoping yet for some Service from them, ha­ving awak'd their Courage by this open Shame; Suffundere malis hominis sanguinem quam effundere, choosing rather to bring the Blood in­to their Cheeks than to let it out of their Bo­dies. It appears also, that the Roman Laws did anciently punish those with Death who had run away: for Ammianus Marcellinus says, that the Emperor Iulian commanded ten of his Soul­diers, who had turn'd their Backs in an En­counter against the Parthians, to be first de­graded, and afterwards put to death, according (says he) to the ancient Laws, and yet else-where for the like Offence, he only condemns others to remain amongst the Prisoners under the Bag­gage Ensign. The punishment the People of Rome inflicted upon those who fled from the Battel of Cannae, and those who run away [Page 76] with Cneius Fulvius, at his Defeat, did not ex­tend to Death. And yet methinks Men should consider what they do in such Cases, lest dis­grace should make such Delinquents desperate, and not only faint Friends but implacable and mortal Enemies. Of late memory, the Seig­neur de Franget, Lieutenant to the Mareschal de Chattilion's Company, having by the Mares­chal de Chabanes been put in Governour of Fontarabie, in the Place of Monsieur de Lude, and having surrender'd it to the Spaniard, he was for that condemn'd to be degraded from all Nobility, and both himself and his Posteri­ty declar'd ignoble, taxable, and for ever incapable of bearing Arms; which severe sen­tence was afterwards accordingly executed at Lions: and since that all the Gentlemen who were in Guise when Count Nassau enter'd into it, underwent the same punishment, as se­veral others have done since for the like Of­fence. Notwithstanding, in case of such a manifest Ignorance or Cowardice as exceeds all other ordinary Example, 'tis but reason to take it for a sufficient Proof of Treachery and Malice, and for such it ought to be censur'd and punish'd.

I Observe in all my Travels this Custom, ever to learn something from the Informa­tion of those with home I confer (which is the [Page 77] best School of all other) and to put my Com­pany upon those Subjects they are the best a­ble to speak of:

For it often falls out, that, on the contrary, every one will rather choose to be prating of another Man's Province than his own, think­ing it so much new reputation acquir'd; wit­ness the Jeer Archidamus put upon Periander, That he had quitted the Glory of being an excel­lent Physician to gain the Repute of a very bad Poet. And do but observe how large and ample. Caesar is to make us understand his Invention of building of Bridges, and contriving Engines of War, and how succinct and re­serv'd in Comparison, where he speaks of the Offices of his Profession, his own Valour, and military Conduct. His Exploits sufficiently prove him a great Captain, and that he knew well enough, but he would be thought a good Engineer to boot; a quality something rare, and not much to be expected in him. The Elder Dionystus was a very great Captain, as it befitted his Fortune he should be; [...] [Page 78] he took very great Pains to get a particular Reputation by Poetry, and yet he was never cut out for a Poet. A Gentleman of the long Robe being not long since brought to see a Study furnish'd with all sorts of Books, both of his own and all other Faculties, took no occasion at all to entertain himself with any of them, but fell very rudely and impertinent­ly to descant upon a Barricado plac'd before the Study-door, a thing that a hundred Cap­tains and common Souldiers see every day without taking any notice or offence.

By this course a Man shall never improve himself, nor arrive at any Perfection in any thing. He must therefore make it his Busi­ness, always to put the Architect, the Painter, the Statuary, as also every Mechanick Artizan, upon discourse of their own Capacities. And to this purpose, in reading Histories, which is every Body's Subject, I use to consider what kind of Men are the Authors; which, if Persons that profess nothing but mere Learn­ing, I in and from them principally observe and learn the Stile and Language; If Physici­ans, I upon that account the rather incline to credit what they report of the Temperature of the Air, of the Health and Complexions of Princes, of Wounds, and Diseases; if Lawyers, we are from them to take notice of [Page 79] the Controversies of Right and Title, the Establishment of Laws and Civil Government, and the like; if Divines, the Affairs of the Church, Ecclesiastical Censures, Marriages and Dispensations; if Courtiers, Manners and Ceremonies; if Souldiers, the things that pro­perly belong to their Trade, and principally the Accounts of such Actions and Enterprizes wherein they were personally engaged; and if Ambassadours, we are to observe their Nego­tiations, Intelligences, and Practices, and the Manner how they are to be carried on. And this is the reason why (which perhaps I should have lightly pass'd over in another) I dwelt upon and maturely consider'd one Passage in the History writ by Mounsieur de Langey (a Man of very great Judgment in things of that nature) which was, after having given a Narra­tive of the fine Oration Charles the Fifth had made in the Consistory at Rome, and in the Presence of the Bishop of Mascon and Mon­sieur de Velley our Ambassadours there, wherein he had mixed several tart and injurious Ex­pressions to the Dishonour of our Nation; and amongst the rest, That if his Captains and Souldiers were not Men of another kind of Fidelity, Resolution, and sufficiency in the Knowledge of Arms, than those of the King, he would immedi­ately go with a Rope about his Neck and sue to him for Mercy, (and it should seem the Empe­rour had really this, or a very little better Opinion of our military Men, for he after­ward, twice or thrice in his Life, said the very same thing) as also, that he challenged [Page 80] the King to fight him in his Shirt with Rapi­er and Poiniard in a Boat: the said Sieur de Langey pursuing his History, adds, that the forenam'd Ambassadours, sending a Dispatch to the King of these things, conceal'd the greatest part, and particularly the two last Passages. At which I could not but wonder, that it should be in the Power of an Ambas­sadour to dispense with any thing which he ought to signifie to his Master, especially of so great importance as this, coming from the Mouth of such a Person, and spoke in so great an Assembly; and should rather con­ceive it had been the Servant's Duty faithfully to have represented to him the whole and na­ked Truth as it past, to the end that the Liberty of disposing, judging and conclu­ding, might absolutely have remain'd in him: for either to conceal, or to disguise the Truth for fear he should take it otherwise than he ought to do, and lest it should prompt him to some extravagant Resolution, and in the mean time to leave him ignorant of his Affairs; should seem, methinks, rather to belong to him who is to give the Law, than to him who is only to receive it; to him who is in su­pream Command, and best can judge of his own Interests, and not to him who ought to look upon himself as inferior in Authority, so also in Prudence and good Counsel: but let it it be how it will, I for my part would be loth to be so serv [...]d in my little Concerns. We do so willingly slip the Collar of Com­mand upon any Pretence whatever, and are [Page 81] so ready to usurp upon Dominion, and every one does so naturally aspire to Liberty and Power, that no Utility whatever deriv'd from the Wit or Valour of those he does employ, ought to be so dear to a Superiour, as a down­right and sincere Obēdience. To obey more upon the Account of Understanding than of Subjection, is to corrupt the Office, and to subvert the Power of Command; insomuch that P. Crassus, the same whom the Romans reputed five times happy, at the time when he was Consul in Asia, having sent to a Greek Engineer to cause the greater of two Masts of Ships that he had taken notice of at Athens, to be brought to him, to be employed about some Engine of Battery he had a design to make; the other presuming upon his own Science and sufficiency in those Affairs, thought fit to do otherwise than directed, and to bring the less; which also, according to the Rules of Art, was really more proper for the use of which it was design'd: but Crassus, though he gave ear to his Reason with great Patience, would not however take them, how sound or convinc [...]ng soever, for current Pay, but yet remained so highly offended at his Disobedience, that he caus'd him to be suffi­ciently whip'd for his Pains, valuing the Inte­rest of Discipline much more than of the thing. Notwithstanding, we may on the o­ther side consider, that so precise and impli­cite an Obedience as this, is only due to posi­ti [...] and limited Commands. The Employ­ment of an Ambassadour is never so confin'd; [Page 82] several things in the management of Affairs, and in the various and unforeseen Occurrences and Accidents that may fall out in the Ma­nagement of a Negotiation of this Nature, be­ing wholly referr'd to the absolute Sovereignty of their own Conduct: neither do they simply execute only, but also to their own Discreti­on and Wisdom form and model their Ma­ster's Pleasure; and I have in my time known Men of command who have been check'd for having rather obeyed the express Words of the King's Letters, than the necessity of the Affairs they had in hand. Men of Under­standing do yet to this day condemn the Custom of the Kings of Persia, to give their Lieutenants and Agents so little Rein, that upon the least arising Difficulties they must evermore have Recourse to their further Com­mands; this delay in so vast an extent of Do­minion having often very much prejudic'd their Affairs. And Crassus, writing to a Man whose Profession it was best to understand those things, and pre-acquainting him to what use this Mast was design'd, did he not seem to consult his Advice, and in a manner invite him to interpose his better Judgment.

I Am not so good a Naturalist as to discern by what secret Springs Fear has its motion in us; but I am wise enough to know, that it is a strong Passion, and such a one, that the Physicians say there is no other what ever that sooner disthrones our Judgments from its proper Seat; which is so true, that I my self have seen very many become frantick tho­rough Fear; and even in those of the best settled Temper, it is most certain, that it begets a terrible Astonishment and Confusion during the Fit. I omit the Vulgar sort, to whom it one while represents their Great-Grandsires, risen out of their Graves in their Shrowds, another while Hob-Goblins, Spectres and Chimaera's, but even amongst Souldiers (a sort of men over whom, of all others, it ought to have the least Power) how often has it converted Flocks of Sheep into armed Squadrons, Reeds and Bull-rushes into Pikes and Launces, Friends into Enemies, and the French White into the Red Crosses of Spain! When Mounsieur de Bourbon took the City of Rome, an Ensign who was upon the Guard at the Bourg St. Pierre, was seiz'd with such a [Page 84] Fright upon the first Alarm, that he threw himself out at a Breach with his Colun upon his Shoulder, and can directly upon the Enemy, thinking he had retreated toward the inward Defences of the City, and with much ado, seeing Mounsieur de Bourbon's People, who thought it had been a Sally upon them, draw up to receive him, at last came to him­self, and saw his Error; and then facing a­bout, he retreated full speed through the same Breach by which he had gone out; but not till he had first blindly advanc'd above three hundred Paces into the open Field. It did not however fall out so well with Captain Iulius his Ensign at the time when St. Paul was taken from us by the Count de Bur [...] and Monsieur du Reu, for he, being so asto­nish'd with Fear, as to throw himself and his Fellows out at a Skyt-gate, was immediate­ly cut to pieces by the Enemy; and in the same Siege it was a very memorable Fear, that so seiz'd, contracted, and froze up the Heart of a young Gentleman, that he sunk down stone dead in the Breach, without any man­ner of Wound or Hurt at all. The like Madness does sometimes push on a whole Mul­titude; for in one of the Encounters that G [...]r­manicus had with the Germans, two great Par­ties were so amaz'd with Fear, that they ran two opposite ways, the one and the other to the same place, from which either of them had fled before. Sometimes it adds Wings to the Heels, as in the two first, and sometimes nails them to the Ground, and fetters them [Page 85] from moving; as we read of the Emperour Theo­philus, who in a Battel he lost against the Aga­rens, was so astonish'd and stupified, that he had no Power to fly; Quint. Curt. l. 3. adeo pavor etiam auxilia formidat, so much does Fear dread even the means of Safety; till such time as Manuel, one of the principal Commanders of his Army, having jogg'd and shak'd him so as to rouse him out of his Trance, said to him, Sir, if you will not follow me, I will kill you: for it is better you should lose your Life, than, by being taken, to lose your Empire. But Fear does then manifest its utmost Power and Effect, when it throws us upon a valiant Despair, having before depriv'd us of all sense both of Duty and Honour. In the first pitch'd Battel the Romans lost against Hannibal, under the Con­sul Sempronius, a Body of ten thousand Foot, that had taken a Fright, seeing no other E­scape for their Cowardice, went, and threw themselves head-long upon the great Battalion of the Enemies, which also with wonderful force and fury they charg [...]d thorough and tho­rough, and routed with a very great slaughter of the Carthaginians, by that means purcha­sing an ignominious flight at the same price they might have done a glorious Victory. The thing in the World I am most afraid of is Fear, and with good reason, that Passion alone, in the trouble of it, exceeding all other Acci­dents. What affliction could be greater or more just than that of Pompe [...]'s Followers and Friends, who, in his Ship, were Spectators of that horrid and inhumane murther? Yet so it [Page 86] was, that the Fear of the Egyptian Vessels they saw coming to board them, possess'd them with so great a Fear, that it is observ'd they thought of nothing, but calling upon the Mariners to make haste, and by force of Oars to escape away, till being arriv'd at Tyre, and deliver'd from the apprehension of further danger, they then had leisure to turn their thoughts to the loss of their Captain, and to give vent to those tears and lamentations that the other more prevalent Passion had till then suspended.

Such as have been well bang'd in some Skir­mish, may yet, all wounded and bloody as they are, be brought on again the next day to charge: but such as have once conceiv'd a good sound Fear of the Enemy, will never be made so much as to look him in the Face. Such as are in immediate Fear of losing their Estates, of Banishment, or of Slavery, live in perpetual Anguish, and lose all Appetite and Repose; whereas such as are actually poor, Slaves and Exiles, oft-times live as merrily as Men in a better Condition: and so many Peo­ple, who impatient of the perpetual Alarms of Fear, have hang'd and drown'd themselves, give us sufficiently to understand, that it is more importunate and insupportable than Death [Page 87] it self. The Greeks acknowledge another kind of Fear exceeding any we have spoke of yet, a Passion that surprises us without any visible Cause, by an impulse from Heaven; so that whole Armies and Nations have been struck with it. Such a one was that, which brought so wonderful a Desolation upon Carthage, where nothing was to be heard but Voices, and Outcries of Fear, where the Inhabitants were seen to sally out of their Houses as to an Alarm, and there to charge, wound, and kill one another, as if they had been Enemies come to surprize their City. All things were in strange Disorder and Fury, till with Prayers and Sacrifices they had appeas'd their Gods: and this is that they call a Panick Terror.

EVery one is acquainted with the Story of King Croesus to this purpose, who being taken Prisoner by Cyrus, and by him con­demn'd [Page 88] to die, as he was going to Execution, cry'd out, O Solon, Solon! which being pre­sently reported to Cyrus, and he sending to enquire of him what it meant, Croesus gave him to understand, that he now found the Advertisement Solon had formerly given him true to his Cost, which was, That men, how­ever Fortune may smile upon them, could never be said to be happy, till they had been seen to pass over the last day of their Lives, by reason of the uncertainty and mutability of Humane things, which upon very light and trivial occasions, are subject to be totally chang'd into a quite contrary condition. And therefore it was, that Agesil [...]us made answer to one that was saying, what a happy young man the King of Pers [...] was, to come so young to so mighty a Kingdom; 'Tis true, (said he) but neither was Priam unhappy at his years. In a short time, of Kings of Macedon, Successors to that mighty Al [...]xander, were made Joyne [...] and Scriveners at Rome, of a Tyrant of Sicily, a Pedant at Corinth, of a Conquerour of one half of the World, and General of so many Armies, a miserable Suppliant to the rascally. Officers of a King of Aegypt. So much the prolongation of five or Six Months of Life cost the Great and Noble P [...]mpey, and no longer [...] than our Fathers da [...]s, Ludovico Forza, the tenth Duke of Millan, whom all Italy had so long truckled under, was seen to die a wretched Prisoner at Loches, but not till he had lived ten Years in Captivity, which was the worst part of his Fortune. The fairest [Page 89] of all Queens, Mary, Qu. of Scots. Widow to the greatest King in Europe, did she not come to die by the hand of an Executioner? Unworthy and bar­barous Cruelty! and a thousand more Exam­ples there are of the same kind; for, it seems, that as Storms and Tempests have a Malice to the proud, and overtow'ring heights of our lofty Buildings, there are also Spirits above that are envious of the Grandeurs here below.

And it should seem also that Fortune some­times lies in wait to surprize the last Hour of our Lives, to shew the Power she has in a Moment to overthrow what she was so many Years in building, making us cry out with La­berius, Macrob. l. 2. c. 2. Nimirum hac die una plus vixi mihi quàm vivendum fuit, I have liv [...]d longer by this one day than I ought to have done. And in this Sence, this good Advice of Solon may reasonably be taken; but he being a Philoso­pher, with which sort of Men the Favours and Disgraces of Fortune stand for nothing, either to the making a Man happy or unhappy, and with home Grandeurs and Powers, Accidents of Quality, are upon the Matter indifferent: I am apt to think that he had some farther [Page 90] Aim, and that his meaning was, that the very Felicity of Life it self, which de­pends upon the Tranquility and Content­ment of a well-descended Spirit, and the Resolution and Assurance of a well-order'd Soul, ought never to be attributed to any Man, till he has first been seen to play the last, and doubtless the hardest act of his Part, because there may be Disguise and Dissimula­tion in all the rest, where these fine Philoso­phical Discourses are only put on; and where Accidents do not touch us to the Quick, they give us leasure to maintain the same sober Gravity; but in this last Scene of Death, there is no more counterfeiting, we must speak plain, and must discover what there is of pure and clean in the bottom.

Wherefore at this last all the other Actions of our Life ought to be tryed and sifted. 'Tis the Master-day, 'tis the day that is judge of all the rest, 'Tis the Day (says one of the An­cients) that ought to judge of all my foregoing Years. To Death do I refer the Eisay of the Fruit of all my Studies. We shall then see whether my Discourses came only from my Mouth, or from my Heart. I have seen many by their Death give a good or an ill Repute to their whole Life. Scipio, the Father-in-law of Pompey the great, in dying well, wip'd [Page 91] away the ill Opinion, that till then every one had conceiv'd of him. Epaminondas being ask'd which of the three he had in greatest esteem, Chabrias, Iphicrates, or himself; You must first see us die (said he) before that Question can be resolv'd: and in truth, he would infi­nitely wrong that great Man, who would weigh him without the Honour and Grandeur of his End. God Almighty has order'd all things as it has best pleas'd him: But I have in my time seen three of the most execrable Per­sons that ever I knew in all manner of abomi­nable living, and the most infamous to boot, who all dyed a very regular Death, and in all Circumstances compos'd even to Perfection. There are brave, and fortunate Deaths. I have seen Death cut the Thread of the Pro­gress of a prodigious Advancement, and in the height and Flower of its encrease of a cer­tain Person, with so glorious an end, that in my Opinion his Ambitious, and generous De­signs had nothing in them so high and great as their Interruption; and he arriv'd, with­out compleating his course, at the Place to which his Ambition pretended with greater Glory, than he could himself either hope or desire, and anticipated by his Fall the Name and power to which he aspir'd, by perfecting his Career. In the Judgment I make of another Man's Life, I always observe how he carried himself at his Death; and the prin­cipal Concern I have for my own, is, that I may die handsomly, that is, patiently, and without noise.

CIcero says, That to study Philosophy is no­thing but to prepare a Man's self to die. The reason of which is, because Study and Contemplation do in some sort withdraw from us, and deprive us of our Souls, and employ it separately from the Body, which is a kind of Learning to die, and a resemblance of Death; or else because all the Wisdom and reasoning in the World, does in the end con­clude in this Point, to teach us not to fear to die. And to say the Truth, either our Rea­son does grosly abuse us, or it ought to have no other Aim but our Contentment only, nor to endeavour any thing, but in Sum to make us live well, and as the Holy Scripture says, at our Ease. All the Opinions of the World a­gree in this. That Pleasure is our end, though we make use of divers means to attain unto it, they would otherwise be rejected at the first motion; for who would give Ear to him that should propose Affliction and Misery for his end? The Controversies and Disputes of the Philosophical Sects upon this Point are meerly verbal, Transcurramus solertissimas nu­gas, Let us skip over those learned and subtle Fooleries and Trifles; Seneca Epist. there is more in them of Opposition and Obstinacy than is con­sistent with so sacred a Profession: but what kind of Person soever Man takes upon him to [Page 93] personate, he over-mixes his own part with it; and let the Philosophers all say what they will, the main thing at which we all aim, even in Virtue it self, is Pleasure. It pleases me to rattle in their Ears this Word, which they so nauseate to hear; and if it signifie some supream Pleasure and excessive Delight, it is more due to the Assistance of Virtue than to any o­ther Assistance whatever. This Delight, for being more gay, more sinewy, more ro­bust, and more manly, is only to be more se­riously voluptuous, and we ought to give it the Name of Pleasure, as that which is more benign, gentle, and natural, and not that of Vigour, from which we have deriv'd it: the other more mean and sensual part of Pleasure, if it could deserve this fair Name, it ought to be upon the Account of Concurrence, and not of Privilege; I find it less exempt from Traverses and Inconveniences, than Vertue it self; and besides that, the enjoyment is more momentary, fluid, and frail; it has its Watch­ings, Fasts, and Labours, even to Sweat and Blood; and moreover, has particular to it self so many several sorts of sharp and wound­ing Passions, and so stupid a Satiety attend­ing it, as are equal to the severest Penance. And we mistake to think that Difficulties should serve it for a Spur, and a seasoning to its Sweetness, as in Nature one Contrary is quickned by another, and to say when we come to Vertue, that like Consequences and Difficulties overwhelm and render it austere and inaccessible; whereas, much more aptly [Page 94] than in Voluptuousness, they enable, sharpen, and heighten the Perfect and divine Pleasure they procure us. He renders himself unwor­thy of it who will counterpoise his Expence with the Fruit, and does neither understand the Blessing, nor how to use it. Those who Preach to us, that the quest of it is craggy, dif­ficult, and painful, but the Fruition pleasant and grateful, what do they mean by that but to tell us that it is always unpleasing? The most perfect have been forc'd to content them­selves to aspire unto it, and to approach it on­ly without ever possessing it. But they are de­ceiv'd, and do not take notice, that of all the Pleasures we know, the very Pursuit is pleasant. The Attempt ever relishes of the quality of the thing to which it is directed, for it is a good part of, and consubstantial with the Effect. The Felicity and Beati­tude that glitters in Vertue, shines through­out all her Apartments and Avenues, even to the first Entry, and utmost Pale and Li­mits. Now of all the Benefits that Vertue confers upon us, the Contempt of Death is one of the greatest, as the means that ac­commodates Humane Life with a soft and ea­sie Tranquillity, and gives us a pure and plea­sant Taste of Living, without which all other pleasure would be extinct; which is the Rea­son why all the Rules by which we are to live, centre and concur in this own Article. And altho they all in like manner with one consent endeavour to teach us also to despise Grief, Poverty, and the other Accidents to which [Page 95] humane Life by its own Nature and Constitu­tion, is subjected, it is not nevertheless with the same Importunity, as well by reason the fore-named Accidents are not of so great ne­cessity, the greater part of Mankind passing over their whole Lives without ever knowing what Poverty is, and some without Sorrow or Sickness as Xenophilus the Musician, who liv'd a hundred and six Years in a perfect and continual Health; as also because, at the worst, Death can, whenever we please, cut short, and put an end to all these Inconveni­ences. But as to Death, it is inevitable.

And consequently, if it frights us, 'tis a per­petual Torment, and for which there is no Consolation nor Redress. There is no way by which we can possibly avoid it, it commands all Points of the Compass; we may continual­ly turn our Heads this way and that, and pry about as in a suspected Country, Cicero de finib. l. 1. quae quasi sax­um Tantalo semper impendet, but it, like Tanta­l [...]s his Stone, hangs over us. Our Courts of Justice often send back condemn'd Criminals to be executed upon the Place where the Fact [Page 96] was committed, but carry them to all fine Hou­ses by the way, and prepare for them the best Entertainment you can,

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

The end of our Race is Death, 'tis the ne­cessary Object of our aim, which if it fright us, how is it possible to advance a step with­out a Fit of an Ague? The Remedy the Vul­gar use, is not to think on't: but from what brutish stupidity can they derive so gross a blindness? They must bridle the Ass by the Tail, [Page 97]

'tis no wonder if he be often trap'd in the Pit­fall. They use to fright People with the very mention of Death, and many cross themselves, as it were the name of the Devil; and be­cause the making a mans Will is in reference to dying, not a man will be perswaded to take a Pen in hand to that purpose, till the Physician has pass'd sentence upon him, and totally given him over, and then betwixt Grief and Terror, God knows in how fit a condition of Understanding he is to do it. The Romans, by reason that this poor sylla­ble Death was observ'd to be so harsh to the Ears of the People, and the sound so ominous; had found out a way to soften and spin it out by a Periphrasis, and instead of pronoun­cing bluntly, such a one is dead, to say, such a one has liv'd, or such a one has ceas'd to live; for, provided there was any mention of Life in the Case, though past, it carried yet some sound of Consolation. And from them it is that we have borrow'd our expression of the late Monsieur such and such a one. Peradven­ture (as the Saying is) the term we have liv'd is worth our money. The Au­thor's birth. I was born betwixt eleven and twelve a clock in the Forenoon the last of February 1533. according to our Computation, beginning the Year the first of January, and it is now but just fifteen days since I was compleat nine and thirty years old; I make account to live at least as many more. [Page 98] In the mean time, to trouble a mans self with the thought of a thing so far of, is a sensless Foolery. But what? Young and Old die af­ter the very same manner, and no one departs out of Life otherwise, than if he had but just before enter'd into it; neither is any so old and decrepid, who has heard of Methusalem, that does not think he has yet twenty years of Constitution good at least. Fool that thou art, who has assur'd unto thee the term of Life? Thou depend [...]st upon Physicians Tales and Stories, but rather consult Experience, and the fragility of humane Nature: for, ac­cording to the common course of things, 'tis long since that thou liv'dst by extraordinary Favour. Thou hast already out-li'vd the or­dinary term of Life, and that it is so, reckon up thy Acquaintance, how many more have died before they arriv'd at thy Age, than have attain'd unto it, and of those who have en­nobled their Lives by their Renown, take but an Account, and I dare lay a Wager, thou wilt find more who have dyed before than af­ter five and thirty years of age. It is full both of Reason and Piety too, to take Example by the Humanity of Jesus Christ himself, who ended his Life at three and thirty years. The greatest man, that ever was no more than a man, Alexander, died also at the same Age. How many several ways has Death to surprize us?

To omit Fevers and Pleurisies, who would ever have imagin'd that a Duke of Britanny should be press'd to death in a Crow'd, as that Duke was at the entry of Pope Clement into Lyons? Have we not seen one of our Henry II. of France, running against Montgome­ry. 2. Philip the eldest son of Lewis the Gross, the 40th. King of France. Kings kill'd at a Tilting, and did not one of his An­cestors die by the justle of a Hog? Aeschy­lus, being threatned with the fall of a house, was to much purpose so circumspect to avoid that danger, when he was knock'd o'th' head by a Tortoise-shell falling out of an Eagles Talons in the Fields. Another was choak'd with a Grape-stone; an Emperour kill'd with the scratch of a Comb in combing his Head. Aemilius Lepidus, with a stumble at his own threshold, and Aufidius with a justle against the door, as he entred the Council Chamber. And betwixt the very Thighs of Women, Cor [...]elius Gallus the Prator, Tigillinus Captain of the Watch at Rome, Ludovico Son of Guido de Gonzaga Marquis of Mantua, and (of worse example) Speusippus, a Platonick Philosopher, and one of our Popes. The poor Judge Bebi­ [...], whilst he repriv'd a Criminal for eight days only, was himself condemn'd to death, and his own day of Life was expir'd. Whilst Caius Julius the Physician was anointing the Eyes of a Patient, Death clos'd his own; and if I may bring in an Example of my own Bloud; A Brother of mine, Captain St. Mar­tin, a young man, of three and twenty years [Page 100] old, who had already given sufficient testimo­my of his Valour, playing a match at Tennis, receiv'd a blow of a Ball a little above his right Ear, which, though it was without any manner of sign of Wound, or depression of the Skull, and though he took no great notice of it, nor so much as sate down to repose him­self, he nevertheless died within five or six hours after, of an Apoplexy occasion'd by that blow. Which so frequent and common Ex­amples passing every day before our Eyes, how is it possible a man should disingage him­self from the thought of Death; or avoid fansying that it has us every moment by the Collar? What matter is it, you will say, which way it comes to pass, provided a man does not terrifie himself with the expectation? For my part, I am of this mind, that if a man could by any means avoid it, though by creeping under a Calves skin, I am one that should not be ashamed of the shift: all I aim at is, to pass my time pleasantly, and without any great Re­proach, and the Recreations that most contri­bute to it, I take hold of, as to the rest, as little glorious and exemplary as you would desire.

But tis folly to think of doing any thing that [Page 101] way. They go, they come, they gallop and dance, and not a word of Death. All this is very fine, but withall, when it comes either to themselves, their Wives, their Children, or Friends, surprizing them at unawares, and unprepar'd, then what torment, what out­cries, what madness and despair! Did you ever see any thing so subdu'd, so chang'd and so confounded? A man must therefore make more early tryal of it; and this brutish negli­gence, could it possibly lodge in the Brain of any man of Sense (which I think utterly impossible) sells us its merchandise too dear. Were it an Enemy that could be avoided, I would then advise to borrow Arms even of Cowardize it self to that effect: but seeing it is not, and that it will catch you as well fly­ing, and playing the Poltron, as standing to't like a man of Honour.

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

[Page 102] let us learn bravely to stand our ground, and fight him. And to begin to deprive him of the greatest Advantage he has over us, let us take a way quite contrary to the common course. Let us disarm him of his Novelty and Strangeness, let us converse, and be familiar with him, and have nothing so frequent in our thoughts as Death; Let us upon occasions re­present him in all his most dreadful shapes to our imagination; at the stumbling of a Horse, at the falling of a Tile, at the lest prick with a Pin, let us presently consider, and say to our selves, Well, and what if it had been Death it self? and thereupon let us encourage and fortifie our selves. Let us evermore amidst our jollity and Feasting, set the remembrance of our frail condition before our Eyes, never suffering our selves to be so far transported with our Delight, but that we have some in­tervals of reflecting upon, and considering how many several ways this Jollity of ours tends to Death, and with how many dangers it threatens it. The Egyptians were wont to do after this manner, who in the height of their Feasting a [...]d Mirth, caus'd a dried Skeleton of a Man to be brought into the Room to serve for a Memento to their Guests.

[Page 103] Where Death waits for us in uncertain; let us every where look for him. The Premedi­tation of Death is the Premeditation of Li­berty; who has learnt to die has forgot to serve. There is nothing of Evil in Life, for him who rightly comprehends, that Death is no Evil; to know how to die delivers us from all Subjection and Constraint. Paulus Aemilius answer'd him whom the miserable King of Macedon, his Prisoner, sent to entreat him that he would not lead him in his Triumph, Let him make that Request to himself. In truth, in all things, if Nature do not help a little, it is very hard for Art and Industry to perform a­ny thing to purpose. I am in my own Nature not melancholy, but thoughtful; and there is nothing I have more continually entertain'd my self withall, than the Imaginations of Death, e­ven in the gayest and most wanton time of my Age.

In the Company of Ladies, and in the height of Mirth, some have perhaps thought me possess'd with some jealousie, or meditating upon the Uncertainty of some imagin'd Hope, whilst I was entertaining my self with the Re­membrance of some one surpriz'd a few days before with a burning Fever of which he died returning from an Entertainment like this with his Head full of idle Fancies of Love and Jollity, as mine was then, and that for ought [Page 104] I knew the same Destiny was attending me. ‘ Lucret. l 3.J am fuerit, nec post unquam revocare licebit.’

Yet did no [...] this Thought wrinkle my Fore­head any more than any other. It is impossible but we must feel a sting in such Imaginations as these at first; but with often revolving them in a Man's Mind, and having them fre­quent in our Thoughts, they at last become so familiar as to be no trouble at all: otherwise, I for my part should be in a perpetual Fright and Frenzy; for never Man was so distrustful of his Life, never Man so indifferents for its Duration. Neither Health, which I have hi­therto ever enjoyed very strong and vigorous, and very seldom interrupted, does prolong, nor Sickness contract my Hopes. Methinks I scape every minute, and it eternally runs in my Mind, that what may be done to morrow may be done to day. Hazards and Dangers do, in truth, little or nothing hasten our end; and if we consider how many more remain and hang over our Heads, besides the ac­cident that immediately threatens us, we shall find that the Sound and the Sick, those that are abroad at Sea, and those that sit by the Fire, those who are engag [...]d in Battle, and those who sit idle at home, are the one as near it as the other: Nemo altero fragilior est: nemo in crastinum sui certior, Senec. [...]p. 19. No man is more frail than another: no more certain of the mor­row, [Page 105] For any thing I have to do before I die, the longest leisure would appear too short, were it but an Hours business I had to do. A Friend of mine the other day tur­ning over my Table-Book, found in it a Memo­randum of something I would have done after my Decease, whereupon I told him, as it was really true, that though I was no more than a League's distance only from my own House, and merry and well, yet when that thing came into my Head; I made hast to write it down there, because I was not certain to live till I came home. As a man that am e­ternally brooding over my own thoughts, and who confine them to my own particular Con­cerns, I am upon the matter at all hours as well prepar'd as I am ever like to be, and Death, whenever he shall come, can bring no­thing along with him I did not expect long be­fore. We should always (as near as we can) be booted and spurr'd, and ready to go, and above all things to take care at that time to have no business with any one but a man's self: ‘ Hor. l. 2. Od. 16.Quid brevi fortes jaculamur aevo Multa?’

For we shall there find work enough to do, without any need of Addition; One com­plains, more than of Death, than he is thereby prevented of a glorious Victory; another, [Page 106] that he must die before he has married his Daughter, or settled, and provided for his Children; a third seems only troubled that he must lose the society of his beloved Wife; a fourth, the conversation of his Son, as the principal concerns of his Being. For my part, I am, thanks be to God, at this instant in such a condition, that I am ready to dislodge, when­ever it shall please him, without any manner of regret. I disengage my self throughout from all Worldly Relations, my leave is soon taken of all but my self. Never did any one prepare to bid adieu to the World more abso­lutely and purely, and to shake hands with all manner of Interest in it, than I expect to do. The deadest Deaths are the best.

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

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

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

And as the Egyptians after their Feasts were wont to present the Company with a great Image of Death, by one that cry'd out to them, Drink and be merry, for such shalt thou be when thou art dead; so it is my Custom to have Death not only in my Imagination, but continually in my Mouth; neither is there any thing of which I am so inquisitive, and de­light to inform my self, as the manner of mens Deaths, their Words, Looks, and Gestures; nor any places in History I am so intent upon; and it is manifest enough, by my crowding in Ex­amples of this kind, that I have a particular fancy for that Subject. If I were a Writer of Books, I would compile a Register with a Comment of the various Deaths of men, and it could not but be useful, for who should teach men to die, would at the same time teach them to live. D [...]cearchus made one, to which he gave that Title; but it was design [...]d for another, and less profitable end. Perad­venture some one may object, and say, that [Page 109] the pain and terror of dying indeed does so infinitely exceed all manner of imagination, that the best Fencer will be quite out of his Play when it comes to the Push: but let them say what they will, to premeditate is doubt­less a very great Advantage; and besides, is it nothing to come so far, at least, without any visible Disturbance or Alteration? But moreover, Nature her self does assist and en­courage us. If the Death be sudden and vio­lent, we have not leisure to fear; if other­wise, I find, that as I engage further in my Disease, I naturally enter into a certain loath­ing, and disdain of Life. I find I have much more ado to digest this Resolution of dying when I am well in Health than when sick lan­guishing of a Fever; and by how much I have less to do with the Commodities of Life, by reason I even begin to lose the use and Plea­sure of them, by so much I look upon Death with less Terror and Amazement; which makes me hope, that the further I remove from the first, and the nearer I approach to the latter, I shall sooner strike a bargain, and with less Unwillingness exchange the one for the other. And, as I have experimented in other Occurrences, that, as Caesar says, things often appear greater to us at distance than near at hand, I have found, that being well, I have had Diseases in much greater Horror than when really afflicted with them. The Vi­gour wherein I now am, and the Jollity and Delight wherein I now live, make the con­trary Estat [...] appear in so great a disproportion [Page 110] to my present condition, that by Imagination I magnifie and make those inconveniences twice greater than they are, and apprehend them to be much more troublesome, than I find them really to be, when they lie the most heavy up­on me, and I hope to find Death the same. Let us but observe in the ordinary changes and Declinations our Constitutions daily suffer, how Nature deprives us of all sight and sense of our bodily decay. What remains to an old man of the vigour of his Youth and better days?

Caesar, to an old weather-beaten Souldier of his Guards, who came to ask him leave that he might kill himself, taking notice of his whither'd Body, and decrepid motion, plea­santly answer'd, Thou fansiest then that thou art yet alive. Should a man fall into the Aches and impotencies of Age, from a spritely and vigorous Youth on the sudden, I do not think Humanity capable of enduring such a change: but Nature, leading us by the hand, an easie, and as it were, an insensible pace, step by step conducts us to that miserable condition, and by that means makes it familiar to us, so that we perceive not, nor are sensible of the stroak then, when our Youth dies in us, though it be really a harder Death, than the final Dissolu­tion of a languishing Body, which is only the Death of old Age; forasmuch as the Fall is [Page 111] not so great from an uneasie being to none at all, as it is from a spritely and florid Being to one that is unweildy and Painful. The Body, when bow'd beyond its natural spring of Strength, has less Force either to rise with, or support a burthen; and it is with the Soul the same, and therefore it is, that we are to raise her up firm and erect against the Power of this Adversary: for as it is impossible she should ever be at rest, or at Peace within her self, whilst she stands in fear of it; so if she once can assure her self, she may boast (which is a thing as it were above Humane Condition) that it is impossible that Disquiet, Anxiety, or Fear, or any other Disturbance, should inhabit, or have any Place in her.

She is then become Sovereign of all her Lusts and Passions, Mistress of Necessity, Shame, Poverty, and all the other Injuries of For­tune. Let us therefore, as many of us as can, get this Advantage, which is the true and sovereign Liberty here on Earth, and that [Page 112] fortifies us wherewithal to defie Violence and Injustice, and to contemn Prisons and Chains.

Our very Religion it self has no surer hu­mane Foundation than the Contempt of Death. The con­tempt of Death a certain Foundati­on of Reli­gion. Not only the Argument of Reason invites us to it; for why should we fear to lose a thing, which being lost, can never be miss'd or lamented? but also seeing we are threat­ned by so many sorts of Death, is it not infi­nitely worse eternally to fear them all, than once to undergo one of them? And what matter is it when it shall happen, since it is once inevitable? To him that told Socrates, the thirty Tyrants have sentenc'd thee to Death; and Nature them; said he. What a ridiculous thing it is to trouble and afflict our selves, about taking the only Step that is to deliver us from all Misery and Trouble? As our Birth brought us the Birth of all things, so in [Page 113] our Death is the Death of all things included. And therefore to lament and take on, that we shall not be alive a hundred Years hence, is the same Folly as to be sorry we were not alive a hundred Years ago. Death is the beginning of another Life. So did we weep, and so much it cost us to enter into this, and so did we put of our former Veil in entring into it. Nothing can be grievous that is but once, and is it reasonable so long to fear a thing that will so soon be dispatch'd? Long Life and short, are by Death made all one; for there is no long, nor short, to things that are no more. Aristotle tells us, that there are certain little Beasts upon the Banks of the River Hypanis, that never live above a day: they which die at eight of the Clock in the Morning, die in their Youth, and those that die at five in the Evening, in their extreamest Age: Which of us would not laugh to see this Moment of Continuance put into the consideration of Weal or Woe? The most, and the least of ours in comparison of Eternity, or yet to the Duration of Moun­tains, Rivers, Stars, Trees, and even of some Animals, is no less ridiculous. But Nature compels us to it; Go out of this World, says she, as you enter'd into it; the same Pass you made from Death to Life, without Passion or Fear, the same, after the same manner, repeat from Life to Death. Your Death is a part of the Order of the Universe, 'tis a part of the Life of the World.

'Tis the Condition of your Creation; Death is a part of you, and whilst you endeavour to evade it, you avoid your selves. This very Being of yours that you now enjoy is equally divided betwixt Life and Death. The day of your Birth is one days advance towards the Grave. ‘ Senec. Her. fur. chor. 3.Prima, quae vitam dedit, hora, carpsit.’

‘ Manil. Ast. 4.Nascentes morimur, finisque ab origine pendet.’

All the whole time you live you purloin from Life, and live at the expence of Life it self, the perpetual work of our whole Life is but to lay the foundation of Death; you are in Death whilst you live, because you still are after Death, when you are no more alive. Or if you had rather have it so, you are dead af­ter Life, but dying all the while you live; [Page 115] and Death handles the dying much more rudely than the dead. If you have made your profit of Life, you have had enough of it, go your way satisfied. ‘ Lucret. l. 3.Cur non ut plenus vitae conviva recedis.’

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

Life in it self is neither good nor evil, it is the Scene of good or evil, as you make it; and, if you have liv'd a day, you have seen all; one day is equal, and like to all other days; there is no other Light, no other Shade, this very Sun, this Moon, these very Stars, this very Order and Revolution of things, is the same your Ancestors enjoy'd, and that shall also entertain your Posterity. ‘ Lucret. vel Manil.Non alium videre patres, aliumve nepotes Aspicient.’

[Page 116] And come the worst that can come, the distribu­tion and variety of all the Acts of my Comedy, is perform'd in a Year. If you have observ'd the Revolution of the four Seasons, they com­prehend, the Infancy, Youth, Virility, and old Age of the World. The Year has play'd his part, and knows no other way, has no new Farce, but must begin and repeat the same a­gain; it will always be the same thing.

Time is not resolv'd to create you any new Recreations.

Give place to others, as others have given place to you. Equality is the Soul of Equity. Who can complain of being comprehended in the same Destiny wherein all things are in­volv'd? Besides, live as long as you can, you shall by that nothing shorten the space you are to lie dead in the Grave; 'tis all to no pur­pose; [Page 117] you shall be every whit as long in the condition you so much fear, as if you had di­ed at Nurse.

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

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

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

Neither can it any way concern you, whether you are living or dead: living, by reason that [Page 118] you are still in being; dead, because you are no more. Moreover, no one dies before his Hour; and the Time you leave behind was no more yours, than that was laps'd, and gone before you came into the World; nor does it any more concern you.

Where-ever your Life ends it is all there; neither does the Utility of living consist in the length of days, but in the well husbanding and improving of Time, and such an one may have been who has longer continued in the World than the ordinary Age of Man; that has yet liv'd but a little while. Make use of Time while it is present with you. It de­pends upon your Will, and not upon the num­ber of Days, to have a sufficient length of Life. Is it possible you can imagine ever to arrive at the Place towards which you are continually going? and yet there is no Journey but hath its end. But if Company will make it more pleasant, or more easie to you, does not all the World go the self same way? ‘ Ibidem.—omnia te vita perfuncta sequentur.’

Does not all the World dance the same Brawl that you do? Is there any thing that does not [Page 119] grow old as well as you? A thousand Men, a thousand Animals, and a thousand other Crea­tures, die at the same moment that you expire.

To what end should you endeavour to a­void, unless there were a possibility to evade it? you have seen Examples enough of those who have received so great a benefit by Dy­ing, as thereby to be manifestly deliver'd from infallible Miseries; but have you Talkt with any of those who have feared a Disadvan­tage by it? It must therefore needs be very foolish to condemn a thing you neither ex­perimented in your own Person, nor by that of any other. Why (says Nature) dost thou complain of me and Destiny? Do we do thee any wrong? Is it for thee to govern us, or for us to dispose of thee? Though perad­venture thy Age may not be accomplish'd, yet thy Life is. A Man of low Stature is as much a man as a Gyant; neither Men, nor their Lives, are measur'd by the Ell. Chiron [Page 120] refus'd to be immortal, when he was acquaint­ed with the Conditions under which he was to enjoy it, by the God of time it self, and its Duration, his Father Saturn. Do but se­riously consider how much more insupport­able an immortal and painful Life would be to man than what I have already design'd him. If you had not Death to ease you of your Pains and Cares, you would eternally curse me for having depriv'd you of the Be­nefit of Dying. I have, 'tis true mixt a lit­tle Bitterness with it, to the end, that seeing of what Conveniency and Use it is, you might not too greedily and indiscreetly seek and embrace it: and that you might be so esta­blish'd in this Moderation, as neither to nau­seate Life, nor have an Antipathy for dying, which I have decreed you shall once do, I have temper'd the one and the other betwixt Pleasure and Pain: and twas I that first taught Thales, the most eminent of all your Sages, that to Live and to Die were indifferent; which made him very wisely answer him who ask'd him, Why then did he not die? because (says he) it is indifferent. The Elements of Water, Earth, Fire, and Air, and the other Parts of this Creation of thine, are no more the Instruments of thy Life than they are of thy Death. Why dost thou fear thy last day, it contributes no more to thy dissolution than every one of the rest? The last Step is not the cause of lassitude, it does but confess it. Every Day travels towards Death, the last only arrives at it. These are the good Lessons our Mother [Page 121] Nature teaches. I have often consider'd with my self whence it should proceed, that in War the Image of Death, whether we look upon it as to our own particular danger, or that of another, should without Comparison appear less dreadful than at home in our own Houses, (for if it were not so, it would be an Army of whining Milk-sops) and that be­ing still in all Places the same, there should be notwithstanding much more Assurance in Peasants, and the meaner sort of People, than others of better Quality and Education: and I do verily believe, that it is those terrible Ce­remonies and Preparations wherewith we set it out, that more terrifie us than the thing it self; a new quite contrary way of living, the Cries of Mothers, Wives and Children, the Visits of astonish'd and afflicted Friends, the Attendance of pale and blubber'd Ser­vants, a dark Room set round with hurning Tapers, our Beds environed with Physicians and Divines; in sum, nothing but Ghostliness and Horror round about us, render it so for­midable, that a Man almost fansies himself dead and buried already. Children are afraid even of those they love best, and are best ac­quainted with, when disguised in a Vizor, and so are we; the Vizor must be removed as well from Things as Persons; which being taken away, we shall find nothing underneath but the very same Death that a mean Servant, or a poor Chamber-maid, died a day or two ago, without any manner of Apprehension or Concern. Happy therefore is the Death that [Page 122] deprives us of the leisure to prepare things requisite for this unnecessary Pomp, a Pomp that only renders that more terrible which ought not to be fear'd, and that no Man up­on Earth can possibly avoid.

FOrtis imaginatio generat casum, Axion Scholast. A strong Imagination begets Accident, say the School-men. I am one of those who are most sensible of the Power of Imagination: Every one is justled, but some are overthrown by it. It has a very great Impression upon me; and I make it my Business to avoid wanting force to resist it. I could live by the sole help of heathful and jolly Company. The very sight of anothers Pain does materially work upon me, and I naturally usurp the Sense of a third Person to share with him in his Torment. A perpetual Cough in another tickles my Lungs and Throat. I more unwillingly visit the sick I love, and am by Duty interested to look after, than those I care not for, and from whom I have no expectation. I take possessi­on of the Disease I am concern'd at, and lay it too much to heart, and do not at all won­der that Fancy should distribute Fevers, and sometimes kill such as allow too much Scope, and are too willing to entertain it. Simon [Page 123] Thomas was a great Physician of his time: I remember, that hapning one day at Tholouze to meet him at a rich old Fellows House, who was troubled with naughty Lungs, and dis­coursing with his Patient about the method of his Cure; he told him, that one thing which would be very conducing to it, was, to give me such Occasion to be pleased with his Company, that I might come often to see him, by which means, and by fixing his Eyes up­on the Freshness of my Complexion, and his Imagination upon the Sprightliest and Vi­gour that glowed in my Youth, and posses­sing all his Senses with the flourishing Age wherein I then was, his Habit of Body might peradventure be amended, but he forgot to say that mine at the same time might be made worse. Gallus Vibius so long cudgell'd his Brains to find out the Essence and Motions of Folly, till by the Inquisition, in the end he went directly out of his Wits, and to such a Degree, that he could never after recover his Judgment; and he might brag that he was become a Fool by too much Wisdom. Some there are who thorough Fear prevent the Hangman; like him whose Eyes being un­bound to have his Pardon read to him, was found stark dead upon the Scaffold, by the Stroak of Imagination. Imagina­tion occa­sions Dis­eases and Death. We start, tremble, turn pale, and blush, as we are variously mov'd by Imagination; and being a-bed, feel our Bodies agitated with its Power to that degree, as even sometimes to Expire. And boyling Youth when fast asleep, grows so [Page 124] warm with Fancy, as in a Dream to satisfie amorous Desires.

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

My self passing by Vitry le Francois, a Town in Champagne, saw a Man, the Bishop of [Page 125] Soissons had in Confirmation, call'd German, whom all the Inhabitants of the Place had known to be a Girl till two and twenty Years of Age, call'd Mary. He was at the time of my being there very full of Beard, Old, and not Married, who told us, that by straining himself in a Leap, his male Instruments came out; and the Maids of that Place have to this day a Song, wherein they advise one another not to take too great Strides, for fear of being turn'd into Men, as Mary German was. It is no wonder if this sort of Accident frequently happen; for if Imagination have any Power in such things, it is so continually and vigorously bent upon this Subject, that to the end it may not so often relapse into the same Thought, and Violence of Desire, it were better once for all to give these young Wen­ches the Things they long for. Some stick not to attribute the Scars of King Dagobert, and St. Francis, to the Force of Imaginati­on; and it is said, that by it Bodies will some­times be removed from their Places; and Cel­sus tells us of a Priest whose Soul would be ra­vish'd into such an Ecstasie, that the Body would, for a long time remain without Sense or Respiration. St. Augustine makes mention of another, who, upon the hearing of any lamen­table or doleful Cries, would presently fall into a Swoon, and be so far out of himself, that it was in vain to call, hollow in his Ears, pinch, or burn him, till he voluntarily came to him­self; and then he would say that he had heard Voices as it were a far off, and did feel when [Page 126] they pinch'd and burn'd him: and to prove that this was no obstinate Dissimulation in de­fiance of his Sense of Feeling, it was manifest, that all the while he had neither Pulse nor Breathing. 'Tis very probable, that Visions, Exchantments, and all Extraordinary Effects of that Nature, derive their Credit principal­ly from the Power of Imagination, working and making its chiefest Impression upon vulgar and more easie Souls, whose Belief is so strange­ly impos'd upon as to think they see what they do not. I am not satisfied, and make a very great Question, Whether those pleasant Liga­tures with which this Age of ours is so fetter'd, and there is almost no other Talk, are not mere voluntary Impressions of Apprehension and fear; for I know by experience, in the Case of a particular Friend of mine, one for whom I can be as Responsible as for my self, and a Man that cannot possibly fall under any manner of Suspicion of insufficiency, and as little of being enchanted, who having heard a Companion of his make a Relation of an unusual Frigidity that surpriz'd him at a very unseasonable time, being afterwards himself engag'd upon the same Account, the Horror of the former Story on a sudden so strangely possess'd his Imagination, that he ran the same Fortune the other had done; and from that time forward (the scurvy Remembrance of his Disaster running in his Mind, and tyrannizing over him) was extreamly sub­ject to Relapse into the same Misfortune. He found some Remedy, however, for [Page 127] this Incovenience, by himself franckly con­fessing, and declaring before-hand to the Party with whom he was to have to do, the Subjection he lay under, and the infirmity he was Subject to, by which means the Conten­tion of his Soul was in some sort appeas'd; and knowing that now some such Misbeha­viour was expected from him, the Restraint upon those Faculties grew less, and he less suffer'd by it, and afterwards, at such times as he could be in no such Apprehension, as not being about any such Act (his Thoughts be­ing then disengag'd and free, and his Body being in its true and natural Estate) by cau­sing those Parts to be handled and communi­cated to the Knowledge of others, he was at last totally freed from that vexatious Infirmity. After a Man has once done a Woman right, he is never after in danger of misbehaving himself with that Person, unless upon the ac­count of a manifest and inexcusable Weakness. Neither is this Disaster to be fear'd, but in Adventures where the Soul is over-extended with Desire or Respect, and especially where we meet with an unexpected Opportunity that requires a sudden and quick Dispatch; and in those Cases, there is no possible means for a Man always to defend himself from such a Surprize as shall put him damnably out of Countenance. And yet I have known some, who have secured themselves from this Mischance by coming half sated else­where, purposely to abate the ardour of his Fury; and others, who by being grown old, [Page 128] find themselves less impotent by being loss able; and particularly one, who found an Advantage by being assur'd by a Friend of his, that he had a Counter-charm against cer­tain Enchantments that would defend him from this Disgrace. The Story it self is not much amiss, and therefore you shall have it. A Count of a very great Family, and with whom I had the Honour to be very famili­arly intimate, being married to a very fair Lady, who [...] formerly been pretended to, and importunately courted by one who was invited to, and present at the Wedding: all his Friends were in very great Fear, but especially an old Lady his Kinswoman, who had the ordering of the Solemnity, and in whose House it was kept, suspecting his Ri­val would, in Revenge, offer soul Play, and procure some of these kind of Sorceries to put a Trick upon him; which Fear she also communicated to me, who, to comfort her, bad her not trouble her self, but relie upon my Care to prevent or frustrate any such De­signs. Now I had, by chance, about me a certain flat Plate of Gold whereon were gra­ven some Coelestial Figures good to prevent Frenzy occasion'd by the Heat of the Sun, or for any Pains of the Head, being applied to the Suture; where, that it might the better remain firm, it was sowed to a Ribban to be tyed under the Chin. A Foppery Cozen-Ger­man to this of which I am speaking, was by Jaques Pelleti [...]r, who liv'd in my House, pre­sented to me for a singular Rarety, and a thing [Page 129] of Sovereign Vertue. I had a fancy to make some use of this Knack, and therefore private­ly told the Count, that he might possibly run the same Fortune other Bridegrooms had some­times done; especially some Persons being in the House, who no doubt would be glad to do him such a Courtesie, but let him boldly go to Bed, for I would do him the Office of a Friend, and if need were, would not spare a Mira­cle that it was in my Power to do, provided he would engage to me, upon his Honour, to keep it to himself, and only when they came to bring him his Cawdle, A Custom in France to bring the Bride­groom a Cawdle in the mid­dle of the night, on his Wed­ding night. if Matters had not gone well with him, to give me such a Sign, and leave the rest to me. Now he had his Ears so batter'd, and his mind so prepos­sess'd with the eternal Tattle of this Business, that when he came to't he did really find him­self tied with the Trouble of his Imagination, and accordingly at the time appointed gave me the Sign: Whereupon, I whisper'd him in the Ear, That he should rise under Pretence of putting us out of the Room, and after a jesting manner pull my Night-gown from my Shoulders; throw it over his own, and there keep it till he had perform'd what I had ap­pointed him to do, which was, that when we were all gone out of the Chamber he should withdraw to make Water, should three times repeat such and such Words, and as often do such and such Actions: that at every of the three times he should tie the Ribban I put into his Hand about his Middle, and be sure to place the Medal was fastned [Page 130] to it (the Figures in such a Posture) exactly upon his Reins, which being done, and ha­ving the last of the three times so well girt and fast tied the Ribban that it could neither untie nor slip from its Place, let him confi­dently return to his Business, and withal not to forget to spread my gown upon the Bed, so that it might be sure to cover them both. These ridiculous Circumstances are the main of the Effect, our fancy being so far seduc'd, as to believe, that so strange and uncouth Formalities must of necessity proceed from some abstruse Science. Their inanity gives them Reverence and Weight. However, cer­tain it is, that my Figures approv'd themselves more Venerean than Solar, and the fair Bride had no reason to complain. Now I cannot forbear to tell you, it was a sudden Whimsey, mix'd with a little Curiosity, that made me do a thing so contrary to my Nature; for I am an Enemy to all subtile, and counterfeit Actions, and abominate all manner of Fraud, though it be but for sport; for though the Action may not be wicked in it self, yet 'tis done after a wicked manner. Amasis King of AEgypt, married Laodicea a marvellous beau­tiful Greek Virgin, who, tho famous for his Abilities elsewhere found himself quite ano­ther Man with his Wife, and could by no means enjoy her; at which he was so enrag'd, that he threatned to kill her, suspecting her to be a Witch. As 'tis usually in things that consist in Fancy; she put him upon Devotion, who having accordingly made his Vows to [Page 131] Venus, he found himself divinely restor'd the very first Night after his Oblations and Sa­crifices. Now in plain truth, Women are to blame, to entertain us with that disdainful, coy, and angry Countenance they commonly do, which extinguishes our Vigour, as it kin­dles our Desire; which made the Daughter-in-Law of Prthagoras to say, That the Woman who goes to Bed to a Man, must put of her Mode­sty with her Petticoat, and put it on again with the same. The Soul of the Assailant being disturb'd with many several Alarms, is easily astonish'd, and soon loses the Power of Performance; and whoever the Imagination has once put this Trick upon and confounded with the Shame of it, (and she never does it but at the first Ac­quaintance, by reason Men are then More ar­dent and eager, and also at this first Account a Man gives of himself, he is much more ti­morous of miscarrying) having made an ill Beginning, he enters into such Indignations and Despite at the Accident, as will in fol­lowing Opportunities be apt to remain, and continue him in the same Condition. As to what concerns Married People, having the Year before them (as we say) they ought ne­ver to compell, or so much as to offer at the Feat, if they do not find themselves very rea­dy: and it is better indecently to fail of hand­selling the Nuptial Sheets, and of paying the Ceremony due to the Wedding-night, when a Man perceives himself full of Agitation and Trembling, expecting another opportu­nity at a better and more private Leisure, [Page 132] when his Fancy shall be better compos'd, than to make himself perpetually miserable for having misbehav'd himself, and being baf­fled at the first Assault. Till possession be ta­ken, a man that knows himself subject to this Infirmity, should leisurely and by degrees make several little tryals and light offers, without obstinately attempting at once to force an absolute conquest over his own mu­tinous and indispos'd Faculties; such as know their members to be naturally obedient to their desires, need to take no other care but only to counterplot their Fancy. The indocile and rude liberty of this scurvy Member, is suf­ficiently remarkable, by its importunate, un­ruly, and unseasonable tumidity and impa [...]i­ence, at such times as we have nothing for it to do, and by its more unseasonable stupidity and disobedience, when we stand most in need of his Vigour, so imperiously contesting the Authority of the Will, and with so much obsti­nacy denying all sollicitation both of Hand and Fancy. And yet though his Rebellion is so universally complain'd of, and that proofs are not wanting to condemn him, if he had never­theless fee'd me to plead his Cause, I should peradventure bring the rest of his fellow mem­bers into suspicion of complo [...]ting this mis­chief against him, out of pure envy at the im­portance, and ravishing pleasure particular to his Employment, so as to have by Confedera­cy arm'd the whole World against him, by malevolently charging him alone with their common offence. For let any one consider, [Page 133] whether there is any one Part of our Bodies that does not often refuse to perform its. Of­fice at the Precept of the Will, and that does not often exercise its Function in defiance of her Command. They have every one of them proper Passions of their own, that rouze and awake, stupifie and benumb them, without our Leave or Consent. How often do the involuntary motions of the Countenance dis­cover our inward Thoughts, and betray our most private Secrets to the Knowledge of the Standers by? The same Cause that animates this Member, does also, without our Know­ledge, animate the Lungs, Pulse and Heart, the sight of a pleasing Object imperceptibly diffusing a Flame through all our Parts with a febrifick motion. Is there nothing but these Veins and muscles that swell, and flag without the Consent, not only of the Will, but even of our Knowledge also? We do not command our Hairs to stand on end, nor our Skin to shiver either with Fear or Desire. The Hands often convey themselves to Parts to which we do not direct them. The Tongue will be interdict, and the Voice sometimes suffo­cated when we know not how to help it. When we have nothing to eat, and would wil­lingly forbid it, the Appetite of Eating and Drinking does not for all that forbear to stir up the Parts that are subjected to it, no more not less than the other Appetite we were speaking of, and in like manner does as un­seasonably leave us. The Vessels that serve to discharge the Belly have their proper Dila [...]a­tions [Page 134] and Compressions, without, and beyond our Intelligence, as well as those which are destin'd to purge the Reins. And that which to justifie the Prerogative of the Will, St. Au­gustine urges, of having seen a Man who could command his Back-side to discharge as often together as he pleas'd, and that Vives does yet fortifie with another Example in his time of one that could Fart, in Tune, does nothing suppose any more pure Obedience of that Part; for is any thing commonly more tumul­tuary or indiscreet? To which let me add, that I my se [...]f knew one so rude and ungo­vern'd, as for forty Years together made his Master-Vent with one continued and uninter­mitted Hurricane, and 'tis like will do till he expire that way, and vanish in his own Smoak. And I could heartily wish, that I only knew by Reading, how oft a Man's Belly, by the De­nial of one single Puff, brings him to the ve­ry door of an exceeding painful Death; and that the Emperour, who gave Liberty to let fly in all Places, had at the same time given us Power to do it. But for our Will, in whose behalf we prefer this Accusation, with how much greater Similitude of Truth may we reproach even her her self with Mutiny and Sedition for her Irregularity and Disobe­dience? Does she always will what we would have her to do? Does she not often will what we forbid her to will, and that to our manifest Prejudice? Does she suffer her self any more than any of the other, to be govern'd and di­rected by the Results of our Reason? To con­clude, [Page 135] I should move in the Behalf of the Gen­tleman, my Client, it might be consider [...]d, that in this Fact, his Cause being inseparably conjoyn'd with an Accessary, yet he is only call'd in Question, and that by Arguments and Accusations that cannot be charg'd, nor reflect upon the other: whose Business indeed is sometimes inopportunely to invite, but never to refuse, and to allure after a tacite and clan­destine manner; and therefore is the Malice and Injustice of his Accusers most manifestly apparent. But be it how it will, protesting against the proceedings of the Advocates and Judges, Nature will, in the mean time, pro­ceed after her own wav, who had done but well, if she had endow'd this Member with some particular Privilege. The Author of the sole immortal Work of Mortals. A divine Work according to Socrates, and of Love, Desire of Immortality, and himself an immor­tal Daemon. Some one perhaps by such an Ef­fect of Imagination may have had the good luck to leave Videlicet the Pox that behind him here in France, which his Companion who has come after, and behav'd himself better, has carried back with him into Spain. And that you may see why Men in such cases require a mind pre­par'd for the thing they are to do, why do the Physicians tamper with, and prepossess before-hand their Patients credulity with ma­ny false promises of Cure, if not to the end, that the effect of imagination may supply the imposture and defect of their Apozem? They know very well, that a great Master of [Page 136] their Trade has given it under his hand, that he has known some with whom the very sight of a potion would work: which Exam­ples of Fancy and Conceit come now into my head, by the remembrance of a story was told me by a domestick Apothecary of my Father's, a blunt Swisse (a Nation not much addicted to vanity and lying) of a Merchant he had long known at Tholouse, who being a valeth­dinary, and much afflicted with Fits of the Stone, had often occasion to take Clysters, of which he caus'd several sorts to be prescrib'd him by the Physicians, according to the acci­dents of his Disease: one of which being one time brought him, and none of the usual forms, as feeling if it were not too hot, and the like, being omitted, he was laid down on his Belly, the Syringe put up, and all Cere­monies perform'd, injection excepted; after which, the Apothecary being gone, and the Patient accommodated as if he had really re­ceiv'd a Clyster, he found the same operation and effect that those do who have taken one indeed; and if at any time the Physician did not find the Operation sufficient, he would usually give him two or three more after the same manner. And the Fellow moreover swore to me, that to save charges (for he pay'd as if he had really taken them) this sick mans Wife, having sometimes made tryal of warm Water only, the effect discover'd the Cheat, and finding these would do no good, was fain to return to the old way. A Woman fansying she had swallow'd a pin in a piece of [Page 137] Bread, cry'd out of an intolerable pain in her Throat, where she thought she felt it stick: but an ingenious Fellow that was brought to her, seeing no outward Tomour nor alterati­on, supposing it only to be conceit taken at some Crust of Bread that had hurt her as it went down, caus'd her to vomit, and cunning­ly, unseen, threw a crooked Pin into the Ba­son, which the Woman no sooner saw, but believing she had cast it up, she presently found her self eas'd of her pain. I my self knew a Gentleman, who having treated a great deal of good Company at his house, three or four days after bragg'd in jest (for there was no such thing) that he had made them eat of a bak'd Cat; at which, a young Gentlewoman, who had been at the Feast, took such a horror, that falling into a violent vomiting end a Fever, there was no possible means to save her. Even brute Beasts are also subject to the force of Imagination a well as we; as is seen by Dogs, who die of grief for the loss of their Masters, and are seen to quest, tremble, and start, as Horses will kick and whinney in their sleep. Now all this may be attributed to the affinity and relation betwixt the Souls and Bodies of Brutes, but 'tis quite another thing when the Imagination works up­on the Souls of rational men, and not only to the prejudice of their own particular Bodies, but of others also. And as an infected Body communicates its Malady to those that ap­proach, or live near it, as we see in the Plague, the small Pox, and sore Eyes that run through whole Families and Cities; [Page 138]

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

Magicians are no very good Authority for me, but we experimentally see, that Women impart the Marks of their Fancy to the Chil­dren they carry in their Wombs; witness her that was brought to Bed of a Moor: and there was presented to Charles the Emperour, and King of Bohemia, a Girl from about Pisa, all over-rough and cover'd with Hair, whom her Mother said to be so conceiv'd by reason of a Picture of St John Baptist, that hung within the Curtains of her Bed. It is the same with Beasts, witness Jacob's ring-streaked and spot­ted [Page 139] Goats, and Sheep, and the Hares and Par­tridges that the Snow turns white upon the Mountains. There was at my House a little while ago, a Cat seen watching a Bird upon the Top of a Tree, who for some time mu­tually fixing their Eyes upon one another, the Bird at last let her self fall as dead into the Cats Claws, either dazled and astonish'd by the Force of her own Imagination, or drawn by some attractive Power of the Cat. Such as are addicted to the Pleasures of the Field, have, I make no question, heard the Story of the Faulconer, who having earnestly fix'd his Eyes upon a Kite in the Air, lay'd a Wager, that he would bring her down with the sole Power of his Sight, and did so, as it was said; for the Tales I borrow, I charge upon the Consciences of those from whom I have them. The Discourses are my own, and found them­selves upon the Proofs of Reason, not of Ex­perience; to which every one has Liberty to add his own Examples: and who has none, (the Number and Varieties of Accidents con­sider'd) let him not forbear to believe that these I set down are enough: and if I do not apply them well, let some other do it for me. And also in the Subjects of which I treat, viz. of our Manners and Motions, the Testimonies and Instances I produce, how fabulous soever, provided they are possible, serve as well as the true; whether it has really happen'd or no, at Rome or at Paris, to Peter or John, tis still within the Verge of Possibility, and humane Capacity, which serves me to good use, and [Page 140] supplies me with Variety in the things I write. I see, and make my Advantage of it as well in Shadow as in Substance; and a­mongst the various Examples I every where meet with in History, I cull out the most rare and memorable to fit my own Turn. There are some Authors whose only end and Design it is, to give an Account of things that have hapned; mine, if I could arrive unto it, should be to deliver what may come to pass. There is a just Liberty allow'd in the Schools, of supposing and contriving Simile's, when they are at a Loss for them in their own Rea­ding: I do not, however, make any use of that Privilege, and as to that Affair in super­stitious Religion surpass all Historical Autho­rity. In the Examples which I here bring in of what I have heard, read, done, or said, I have forbid my self to dare to alter even the most light and indifferent Circumstances; my Conscience does not falsifie one Tittle, what my Ignorance may do I cannot say. And this it is that makes me sometimes enter into Dis­pute with my own Thoughts, whether or no, a Divine, or a Philosopher, Men of so exact and tender Wisdom and Conscience, are fit to write History: for, how can they stake their Reputation upon the Publick Faith? how be responsible for the Opinions of Men they do not know? And with what Assurance deliver their Conjectures for Current Pay? Of Actions perform [...]d before their own Eyes, wherein se­veral Persons were Actors, they would be un­willing to give Evidence upon Oath before a [Page 141] Judge; and cannot be so familiarly and tho­roughly acquainted with any for whose Inten­tions they would become absolute Caution. For my part, I think it less hazardous to write things past, than present, by how much the Writer is only to give an Account of things e­very one knows he must of necessity borrow up­on Trust. I am sollicited to write the Affairs of my own Time by some who fansie I look upon them with an Eye less blinded with Pre­judice, or Partiality, than another, and have a clearer Insight into them by reason of the free Access Fortune has given me to the Heads of both Factions; but they do not consider, that to purchase the Glory of Salust, I would not give my self the Trouble, being a sworn Ene­my as I am to all Obligation, Assiduity, and Perseverance: besides that, there is nothing so contrary to my Stile, as a continued and ex­tended Narrative, I so often Interrupt, and cut my self short in my Writing only for want of Breath. I have neither Fancy, nor Expres­sion worth any thing, and am ignorant beyond a Child, of the Phrases, and even the very Words proper to express the most common things; and for that Reason it is, that I have undertaken to say only what I can say, and have accommodated my Subject to my Force. Should I take one to be my Guide, peradventure I should not be able to keep Pace with him, and in the Precipitancy of my Career might deli­ver Things, which upon better Thoughts, in my own Judgment, and according to Reason, would be criminal, and punishable in the [Page 142] highest degree Plutarch would tell us of what he has deliver'd to the Light, that it is the Work of others, that his Examples are all, and every where exactly true, that they are useful to Posterity, and are presented with a Lustre that will light us the way to Vertue, which was his Design: but it is not of so dan­gerous consequence as in a Medicinal Drug, whether an old Story be so or so.

DEmades the Athenian condemn'd one of his City, whose Trade it was to sell the Necessaries for Funeral Ceremonies, upon Pre­tence that he demanded unreasonable Profit, and that that Profit could not accrue to him, but by the Death of a great Number of People. A Judgment that appears to be ill grounded, for as much as no Profit whatever could possibly be made but at the Expence of another, and that by the same Rule he should condemn all man­ner of Gain of what kind soever. The Mer­chant only thrives, and grows rich, by the Pride, Wantonness, and Debauchery of Youth; the Husbandman by the Price and Scarcity of Grain; the Architect by the Ruine of Build­ings; I awyers, and Officers of Justice, by Suits and Contentions of Men; nay even the Honour and Office of Divines are deriv'd from [Page 143] our Death and Vices; a Physician takes no Pleasure in the Health even of his Friends, says the ancient Comical Greek, nor a Souldier in the Peace of his Country; and so of the rest. And, which is yet worse, let every one but dive into his own Bosom, and he will find his private Wishes spring and his secret Hopes grow up at anothers Expence. Upon which Consideration it comes into my Head, that Nature does not in this swerve from her ge­neral Polity; for Physicians hold, that the Birth, Nourishment, and Encrease of every thing, is the Corruption and Dissolution of a­nother.

HE seems to me to have had a right and true apprehension of the power of Custom, who first invented the Story of a Country-wo­man, who having accustom [...]d her self to play with, and carry a young Calf in her Arms, and daily continuing to do so as it grew up, [Page 144] obtain'd this by Custom, that when grown to be a great Ox she was still able to bear it. For in truth, Custom is a violent and treacherous School-mistriss. She, by little and little, slily, and unperceiv'd, slips in the foot of her Au­thority, but having by this gentle and humble beginning, with the benefit of Time, fix'd and establish'd it, she then unmasks a furious and tyrannick Countenance, against which we have no more the Courage or the power so much as to lift up our Eyes. We see it at e­very turn forcing and violating the Rules of Nature: Plin. l. 6. Usus efficacissimus rerum omnium magi­ster; Custom is the greatest Master of all things. I believe Plato's care in his Republick, and the Physicians, who so often submit the Rea­sons of their Art to the authority of Habit; as also the story of that King, who by Custom brought his Stomach to that pass, as to live by Poison, and the Maid that Albertus reports to have liv'd upon Spiders; and in that new World of the Indies, there were found great Nations, and in very differing Climates, who were of the same Diet, made provision of them, and sed them for their Tables; as al­so, they did Grashoppers, Mice, Bats and Lizards; and in a time of scarcity of such Rare­ties, a Toad was sold for six Crowns, all which they cook, and dish up with several Sawses. There were also others found, to whom our Diet, and the Flesh we eat were venomous and mortal. Consuetudinis magna vis est: Cicero Tus [...]. l. 2. Pernectant venatores in niv [...]: in mon­tibus uri se patiuntur: Pugiles Caestibus contust, [Page 145] ne ingemiscunt quidem. The Power of Custom is very great: Hunts-men will one while lie out all night in the Snow, and another suffer themselves to be parch'd in the Mountains; and Fencers, inur'd to beating, when bang'd almost to pulp with Clubs and Whirl-Batts, disdain so much as to groan. These are strange Examples, but yet they will not appear so strange if we consider what we have ordina­ry experience of, how much Custom stupifies our Senses; neither need we go to be satisfied of what is reported of the Cataracts of Nile; and of what Philosophers believe of the Musick of the Spheres, that the Bodies of those Cir­cles being folid and smooth, and coming to touch, and rub upon one another, cannot fail of creating a wonderful Harmony, the chan­ges and cadencies of which, cause the Revo­lutions and Dances of the Stars: but that the heating Sense of all Creatures here below, being universally, like that of the Aegyptians, deaf'd, and stupified with the continual Noise, cannot, how great soever perceive it. Smiths, Millers, Pewterers, Forge-men, and Armorers, could never be able to live in the perpetual Noise of their own Trades, did it strike their Ears with the same Violence that it does ours. My perfum'd Doublet gratifies my own Smelling at first, as well as that of others; but after I have worn it three or four Days together, I no more perceive it; but it is yet more strange, that Custom, not­withstanding the long Intermissions and In­tervals, should yet have the Power to unite, [Page 146] and establish the Effect of its Impressions up­on our Senses, as is manifest in such as live near unto Steeples, and the frequent noise of the Bells. I my self lie at home in a Tow­er, where every Morning and Evening a ve­ry great Bell rings out the Ave Maria, the Noise of which shakes my very Tower, and at first seem'd insupportable to me; but ha­ving now a good while kept that Lodging, I am so us'd to't, that I hear it without any manner of Offence, and often without awak­ing at it. Plato reprehending a Boy for play­ing at some childish Game; Thou reprov'st me (says the Boy) for a very little thing? Custom (reply'd Plato) is no little Thing. And he was in the right; for I find that our great­est Vices derive their first Propensity from our most tender Infancy, and that our princi­pal Education depends upon the Nurse, Mo­thers are mightily pleas'd to see a Child writhe off the Neck of a Chicken, or to please it self with hurting a Dog or a Cat; and such wise Fathers there are in the World, who look upon it as a notable Mark of a Martial Spirit, when he hears his Son mis-call, or sees him domineer over a poor Peasant, or a Lac­quey, that dares not reply, nor turn again; and a great sign of Wit when he sees him cheat and over-reach his Play-fellow by some malicious Trick of Treachery and Deceit; Deceit ought to be correct­ed in the greenest Years. but for all that, these are the true Seeds and Roots of Cruelty, Tyranny, and Treason. They bud and put out there, and afterwards shoot up vigo [...]ously, and grow to a prodigious [Page 147] Bulk and Stature, being cultivated and im­prov'd by Custom: and it is a very dangerous Mistake to excuse these vile inclinations upon the Tenderness of their Age, and the triviality of the Subject, first, it is Nature that speaks, whose Declaration is then more sincere, and inward thoughts more undisguised, as it is more weak and young: secondly the Deformi­ty of Cozenage does not consist, nor depend upon the Difference betwixt Crowns and Pins; but meerly upon it self, for a Cheat is a Cheat be it more or less; which makes me think it more just to conclude thus, Why should he not cozen in Crowns since he does it in Pins, than as they do, who say, they on­ly play for Pins, he would not do it if it were for Money. Children should carefully be in­structed to abhor ever the Vices of their own contriving; and the natural Deformity of those Vices ought so to be represented to them, that they may not only avoid them in their Actions, but especially so to abominate them in their Hearts, that the very Thought should be hatefull to them, with what Mask soever they may be palliated or disguis'd. I know very well, for what concerns my self, that for having been brought up in my Chil­hood to a plain, and sincere way of dealing, and for having then had an Aversion to all manner of juggling and foul Play in my Chil­dish Sports and Recreations (and indeed it is to be noted, that the Plays of Children are not perform'd in Play, but are to be judg [...]d in them as their most serious Actions) there is [Page 148] no Game so small wherein from my own Bo­som naturally, and without study or endea­vour, I have not an extream Aversion for De­ceit. I shuffle, and cut, and make as much clatter with the Cards, and keep as strict Ac­count for Farthings, as it were for double Pistols, when winning or losing against my Wife and Daughter is indifferent to me, as when I play in good earnest with others for the roundest Sums At all Times, and in all Places, my own Eyes are sufficient to look to my Fingers; I am not so narrowly watch'd by any other, neither is there any I more fear to be discover'd by, or to offend.

I saw the other day, at my own House, a little Fellow who came to shew himself for Money, a Native of Nants, born without Arms, who has so well taught his Feet to per­form the Services his Hands should have done him, that indeed they have half forgot their natural Office, and the use for which they were design'd; the Fellow too calls them his Hands, and we may allow him so to do, for with them he cuts any thing, charges and discharges a Pistol, threds a Needle, Sows, Writes, and puts off his Hat, combs his Head, plays at Cards and Dice, and all this with as much Dexterity as any other could do who had more, and more proper Limbs to assist him; and the Money I gave him he carried away in his Foot, as we do in our Hand I have seen another, who being yet a Boy, flourish [...]d a two-handed Sword, and (if I may so say) handled a Halbert with the mere Moti­ons [Page 149] and Writhing of his Neck and Shoulders for want of hands, tost them into the Air, and ca [...]ch'd them again, darted a Dagger, and crack'd a Whip as well as any Coach-man in France. But the Effects of Custom are much more manifest in the strange Impressions she imprints in our Minds, where she meets with less Resistance, and has nothing so hard a Game to play. What has she not the Power to impose upon our Judgments and Belief? Is there any so fantastick Opinion (omitting the gross Impostures of Religions, with which we see so many populous Nations and so ma­ny understanding men, so strangely besotted; for this being beyond the reach of Humane Reason, any Error is more excusable in such as through the Divine Bounty are not endued with an extraordinary Illumination from a­bove) but of other Opinions, are there any so sensless and extravagant, that she has not plan­ted and establish'd for Laws in those Parts of the World upon which she has been pleased to exercise her Power? And therefore that an­cient Exclamation was exceeding just, Non pudet Physicum, Cicero [...] Nat. [...] id est, speculatorem, venatorém­que naturae, ab animis consuetudine imbutis quae­rere testimonium veritatis? Is it not a Shame for a Philosopher, that is, for an Observer and Hunter of Nature, to derive Testimony from Minds prepossess▪d with Custom? I do believe, that no so absurd or ridiculous Fancy can enter into Humane Imagination, that does not meet with some Example of Publick Practice, and that consequently our Reason [Page 150] does not ground, and support it self upon. There are People amongst whom it is the Fashi­on to turn their Backs upon him they salute, and never look upon the Man they intend to honour. There is a Place, where, whenever the King spits, the greatest Ladies of his Court put out their hands to receive it; and another Nation, where the most eminent Per­sons about him stoop to take up his Ordure in a Linen-cloth. Let us here steal room to insert a Story. A French Gentleman, of my acquaintance, was always wont to blow his Nose with his Fingers, (a thing very much against our Fashion) would justifie himself for so doing, and was a man very famous for pleasant Repartees, who, upon that occasion, ask'd me what Privilege this filthy Excre­ment had, that we must carry about us a fine Handkerchief to receive it, and which was more, afterwards to lap it carefully up, and carry it all day about in our Pockets, which, he said, could not but be much more nauseous and offensive, than to see it thrown away, as we did all other Evacuations. I found that what he said was not altogether without Rea­son, and by being frequently in his Company, that slovenly action of his was at last grown familiar to me; which nevertheless we make a face at, when we hear it reported of ano­ther Country. Miracles appear to be so, ac­cording to our ignorance of Nature, and not according to the Essence of Nature. The con­tinually being accustom'd to any thing, blinds the eye of our Judgment. Barbarians are no [Page 151] more a wonder to us, than we are to them; nor with any more reason, as every one would confess, if after having travell'd over those remote Examples, Men could settle themselves to reflect upon, and rightly to confer them. Humane Reason is a Tincture equally infus'd almost into all our Opinions and Customs, of what form soever they are, infinite in Matter, infinite in Diversity. But I return to my Sub­ject.

There are a People, where (his Wife aud Children excepted) no one speaks to the King but through a Trunk. In one and the same Nation the Virgins discover those Parts that Modesty should perswade them to hide, and the married Women carefully cover and con­ceal. To which, this Custom in another Place has some Relation, where Chastity, but in Marriage is of no Esteem, for unmar­ried Women may prostitute themselves to as many as they please, and being got with Child, may lawfully take Physick in the sight of every one to destroy their Fruit. And in a­nother Place, if a Tradesman marry, all of the same Condition, who are invited to the Wedding, lie with the Bride before him; and the greater number of them there is, the grea­ter is her Honour, and the Opinion of her Abi­lity and Strength: if an Officer marry, 'tis the same, the same with a Nobleman, and so of the rest, except it be a Labourer, or one of mean Condition, for them it belongs to the Lord of the Place to perform that Office; and yet a severe Loyalty during Marriage is after­ward [Page 152] strictness enjoyn'd. There is a place where Bawdy-houses of Young-men are kept for the Pleasure of Women, as we know there are of Women for the Necessities of Men; and also Marriages, where the Wives go to War as well as the Husbands, and not only share in the dangers of Battle, but more­over in the Honours of Command. Others, where they wear Rings not only through their Noses, Lips, Cheeks, and on their Toes, but also wighty Gymmals of Gold thrust through their Paps and Buttocks: Where, in eating, they wipe their Fingers upon their Thighs, Genetories, and the Soles of their Feet: Where Children are excluded, and Brothers and Nephews only inherit; and elsewhere, Nephews only, saving in the Royal Fami­ly, and the Succession of the Crown: where, for the Regulation of Community in Goods and Estates observ'd in the Country, certain Sovereign Magistrates have committed to them the universal Charge, and over-seeing of the Agriculture, and Distribution of the Fruits according to the Necessity of every one: Where they lament the Death of Children, and Feast at the Decease of old Men: Where they lie ten or twelve in a Bed, Men and their Wives together: Where Women, whose Husbands come to violent Ends, may marry again, and others not: Where the servile Condition of Women is look'd upon with such Contempt, that they kill all the na­tive Females, and buy Wives of their Neigh­bours to supply their Use; Where Husbands [Page 153] may repudiate their Wives, without shewing any Cause, but Wives cannot part from their Husbands, for what cause soever. Where Husbands may sell their Wives in case of steri­lity; Where they boyl the Bodies of their dead, and afterwards pound them to a pulp, which they mix with their Wine, and drink it; Where the most coveted Sepulture is to be eaten with Dogs, and elsewhere by Birds; Where they believe the Souls of the happy live in all manner of Liberty, in delightful Fields, furnish'd with all sorts of Delicacies, and that it is those Souls, repeating the words we utter, which we call Echo. Where they fight in the Water, and shoot their Arrows with the most mortal aim, swimming; Where, for a sign of Subjection, they lift up their Shoulders, and hang down their Heads, and put off their shooes when they enter the King's Palace. Where the Eunuchs, who take charge of the Religious Women, have moreover their Lips and Noses cut away, and disguis'd, that they may not be lov'd; and the Priests put out their own Eyes, to be better acquain­ted with their Daemons, and the better to re­ceive and retain their Oracles: Where every one creates to himself a Deity of what he likes best, according to his own Fancy; the Hun­ter, a Lyon or a Fox; the Fisher, some certain Fish, and Idols of every Humane Action or Passion; in which place the Sun, the Moon, and the Earth are the principal Deities, and the form of taking an Oath is to touch the Earth, looking up to Heaven; and there both [Page 154] Flesh and Fish is eaten raw; Where the grea­test Oath they take is, to swear by the Name of some dead Person of Reputation, laying their hand upon his Tomb; Where the New­years Gift the King sends every Year to the Princes, his Subjects, is Fire, which being brought, all the old Fire is put out, and the neighbouring People are bound to fetch of the new, every one for themselves upon pain of Treason; Where, when the King, to betake himself wholly to Devotion, retires from his Administration, (which often falls out) his next Successor is oblig'd to do the same; by which means the Right of the Kingdom de­volves to the third in Succession; Where they vary the Form of Government, according to the seeming necessity of Affairs: Depose the King when they think good, substituting ancient men to govern in his stead, and sometimes transferring it into the hands of the Common-People; Where Men and Women are both Circumcis'd and also Baptiz'd; Where the Souldier, who in one, or several Engagements, has been so fortunate, as to present seven of the Enemies Heads to the King, is made noble: where they live in that rare and singular Opini­on of the Mortality of the Soul: Where the Women are deliver'd without Pain or Fear: Where the Women wear Copper Fetters up­on both their Legs, and if a Louse bite them, are bound in Magnanimity to bite them again, and dare not marry till first they have made their King a Tender of their Virginity, if he please to accept it: Where the ordinary way [Page 155] of Salutation is by putting a Finger down to the Earth, and then pointing it up towards Hea­ven: Where Men carry Burthens upon their Heads, and Women on their Shoulders, the Women pissing standing, and the Men cow­ring down: Where they send their Blood in token of Friendship, and cense the men they would honour, like Gods: Where not only to the fourth, but in any other remote Degree, Kindred are not permitted to marry: Where the Children are four Years at Nurse, and some­times twelve; in which Place also it is accoun­ted mortal to give the Child suck the first day after it is born: Where the Correction of the male Children is peculiarly design' d to the Fa­thers and to the Mothers of the Females; the Punishment being to hang them by the Heels in the Smoak. Where they eat all sorts of Herbs, without other Scruple, than of the Illness of the Smell: Where all things are open, the fi­nest Houses, and that are furnish'd with the richest Furniture, without Doors, Windows, Trunks, or Chests to lock, a Thief being there punish'd double to what they are in other Places: Where they crack Lice with their Teeth like Monkeys, and abhorr to see them kill'd with ones Nails: Where in all their Lives they neither cut their Hair, nor pare their Nails; and in another Place, pare those of the Right hand only, letting the Left grow for Ornament and Bravery: Where they suffer the Hair on the right side to grow as long as it will, and shave the o­ther; and in the neighb [...]ring Provinces, some [Page 156] let their Hair grow long before, and some be­hind, shaving close the rest: Where Parents let out their Children, and Husbands their Wives, to their Guests to hire: Where a man may get his own Mother with Child, and Fathers make use of their own Daughters, or their Sons, without Scandal or Offence: Where, at their solemn Feasts, they inter­changeably lend their Children to one ano­ther, without any consideration of Nearness of Blood. In one Place Men feed upon Humane Flesh, in another, 'tis reputed a charitable Office for a Man to kill his Father at a certain Age; and elsewhere, the Fathers dispose of their Children whilst yet in their Mothers Wombs, some to be preserv'd and carefully brought up, and others they proscribe either to be thrown off, or made away. Elsewhere the old Husbands lend their Wives to Young­men; and in another place they are in com­mon, without offence; in one place parti­cularly, the Women take it for a mark of Honour to have as many gay fring'd Tassels at the bottom of their Garment, as they have lain with several men. Moreover has not Custom made a Republick of Women separate­ly by themselves? Has it not put Arms into their Hands, made them to raise Armies, and fight Battels? and does she not by her own Precept instruct the most ignorant Vulgar, and make them perfect in things which all the Philosophy in the World could never beat in­to the Heads of the wisest men? For we know entire Nations, Where Death was not only [Page 157] despis'd, but entertain'd with the greatest Triumph; where Children of seven years old offer'd themselves to be whip'd to death, with­out changing their Countenance; where Ri­ches were in such Contempt, that the poorest and most wretched Citizen would not have deign'd to stoop to take up a Purse of Crowns. And we know Regions very fruitful in all manner of Provisions, where, notwithstanding the most ordinary Diet, and that they are most pleas'd with, is only Bread, Cresses, and Water. Did not Custom moreover work that Miracle in Chios, that of seven hundred Years it was never known that ever Maid or Wife committed any act to the prejudice of her Honour? To conclude; there is nothing in my opinion, that she does not, or may not do; and therefore with very good reason it is, that Pindar calls her the Queen, and Empress of the World. He that was seen to beat his Father, and reprov'd for so doing, made an­swer, that it was the Custom of their Family; that in like manner his Father had beaten his Grand-father, his Grand-father his great Grand-father, and this, says he, pointing to his Son, when he comes to my Age, shall beat me. And the Father, whom the Son dragg'd and hal'd along the streets, commanded him to stop at a certain Door, for he himself, he said, had dragg'd his Father no farther, that being the utmost limit of the hereditary Insolence the Sons us'd to practise upon the Fathers in their Family. It is as much by Custom as In­firmity, (says Aristotle) that Women tear [Page 158] their Hair, bite their Nails, and eat Coals, Chalk, and such Trash, and more by Custom than Nature, that men abuse themselves with one another. The Laws of Conscience, which we pretend to be deriv'd from Nature, pro­ceed from Custom; every one having an in­ward Veneration for the Opinions and Man­ners, approv'd and receiv'd amongst his own People, cannot without very great Reluctancy depart from them, nor apply himself to them without applause. In times past, when those of Creet would curse any one, they pray'd the Gods to engage them in some ill Custom. But the principal effect of the power of Custom is, so to seize and ensnare us, that it is hardly in our power to disengage our selves from its gripe; or so to come to our selves, as to con­sider of, and to weigh the things it enjoyns. To say the Truth, by reason that we suck it in with our Milk, and that the face of the World presents it self in this posture to our first sight, it seems as if we were born upon condition to pursue this Practice; and the common Fancies that we find in repute every where about us, and infus'd into our Minds with the Seed of our Fathers, appear to be most universal and genuine. From whence it comes to pass, that whatever is off the hinge of Custom, is be­liev'd to be also off the hinges of Reason; and how unreasonably for the most part, God knows. If, as we who study our selves, have learn'd to do, every one who hears a good Sentence, would immediately consider how it does any way touch his own private Concern, [Page 159] every one would find, that it was not so much a good Saying, as a severe Lush to the ordinary Bestiality of his own Judgment: but men re­ceive the Precepts and Admonitions of Truth, as generally directed to the Common Sort, and never particularly to themselves; and instead of applying them to their own man­ners, do only very ignorantly and unprofitably commit them to memory, without suffering themselves to be at all instructed, or converted by them: But let us return to the Empire of Custom. Such People as have been bred up to Liberty, and subject to no other Dominion but the authority of their own Will, every one being a Sovereign to himself, Democra­cy. or at least go­vern'd by no wiser Heads than there own, do look upon all other Forms of Government as monstrous, and contrary to Nature. Those who are inur'd to Monarchy do the same; Monar­chy. and what opportunity soever Fortune presents them with to change, even then, when with the greatest difficulties they have disengag'd themselves from one Master, that was trou­blesome and grievous to them, they presently run, with the same difficulties, to create ano­ther; being not able, how roughly dealt with soever, to hate the Government they were born under, and the obedience they have so long been accustom'd to. 'Tis by the medi­ation and perswasion of Custom, that every one is content with the place where he is planted by Nature; and the High-landers of Scotland no more pant after the better Air of Tourain, than the starv'd Scythian after the [Page 160] delightful Fields of Thessaly. Darius asking certain Greeks what they would take to assume the Custom of the Indians, of eating the dead Corps of their Fathers, (for that was their Use, believing they could not give them a bet­ter, nor more noble Sepulture, than to bury them in their own Bodies) they made answer, That nothing in the World should hire them to do it; but having also tryed to persuade the Indians to leave their barbarous Custom, and after the Greek manner, to burn the Bodies of their Fathers, they conceiv'd a much grea­ter horrour at the motion. Every one does the same, for as much as Use veils from us the true Aspect of things.

Taking upon me once to justifie something in use amongst us, and that was receiv'd with absolute Authority for a great many Leagues round about us, and not content, as men com­monly do, to establish it only by force of Law, and Example, but enquiring still farther into its Original, I found the foundation so weak, that I who made it my business to confirm others, was very near being dissatisfy'd my self. 'Tis by this Receipt that Plato under­takes to cure this unnatural and preposterous [Page 161] Love of his Time, which he esteems of sove­reign Virtue; namely That the publick Opini­on condemns them; That the Poets, and all other sorts of Writers, relate horrible Stories of them. A Recipe, by virtue of which the most beautiful Daughters no more allure their Fathers Lust; nor Brothers of the finest Shape and Fashion their Sisters desire. The very Fables of Thyestes, Oedypus, and Macareus, having with the Harmony of their Song infus'd this wholesome Opinion and Belief into the tender Brains of Infants. Chastity is in truth a great and shining Vertue, and of which the Uti­lity is sufficiently known; but to govern, and prevail with it according to Nature, is as hard, as 'tis easie to do it according to Custom, and the Laws and precepts of sober Practice. The original and fundamental Reasons are of very obscure and difficult search, and our Masters either lightly pass them over, or not daring so much as to touch them, precipitate them­selves into the Liberty and Protection of Cu­stom; such as will not suffer themselves to be withdrawn from this original Source, do yet commit a greater Error, and submit them­selves to wild and beastly Opinions; witness Chrysippus, who in so many of his Writings has strew'd the little Account he made of in­cestuous Conjunctions committed with how near Relations soever. Whoever would dis­engage himself from this violent Prejudice of Custom, would find several things receiv'd with absolute and undoubting Opinion, that have no other Support than the hoary Head [Page 162] and rivell'd Face of ancient Use; and things being referr'd to the Decision of Truth and Reason, he will find his Judgment convinc'd and overthrown, and yet restor'd to a much more sure Estate. For Example, I shall ask him, what can be more strange than to see of People oblig'd to obey and pay a Reverence to Laws they never understood, and to be bound in all their Affairs, both of private and pub­lick Concern, as Marriages, Donations, Wills, Sales, and Purchases, to Rules they cannot possibly know, being neither writ nor pub­lish'd in their own Language, and of which they are of Necessity to purchase both the Interpretation and the Use? Not according to the ingenious Opinion of Socrates, who coun­sell'd his King to make the Trafficks and Nego­triations of his Subjects, free, frank, and of Profit to them, and their Quarrels and Debates burdensom, and tart, and loaden with heavy Impositions and Penalties; but by a prodigi­ous Opinion to make Sale of Reason it self, and to allow the Law a course of Traffick. I I think my self oblig'd to Fortune that (as our Historians report) it was a Gascon Gentleman, a Country-man of mine, who first oppos'd Charlemain, when he attempted to impose up­on us Latin and Imperial Laws. What can be more severe or unjust, than to see a Nation, where, by lawful Custom, the Office of a Judge is to be bought and sold, where Judgments are paid for with ready Money, and where Justice may legally be denied to him that has not wherewithal to pay; a Merchandize in so [Page 163] great Repute, as in a Government to serve a fourth Estate of wrangling Lawyers, to add to the three ancient ones of the Church, No­bility, and People; which fourth Estate, having the Laws in their hands, and sovereign Power over Mens Lives and Fortunes, make ano­ther separate Body of Nobility: from whence it comes to pass, that there are double Laws, those of Honour, and those of Justice, in many things positively opposite to one another; the Nobles as [...]gorously condemning a Lye taken, as the other do a Lye reveng'd: By the Law of Arms, he shall be degraded from all Nobility and Honour who puts up an Affront; and by the Civil Law, he who vindicates his Reputa­tion by Revenge incurs a Capital Punishment: who applies himself to the Law for Reparation of an Offence done to his Honour, disgraces himself; and who does not, is censur'd and pu­nish'd by the Law. Yet of these two so diffe­rent things, both of them referring to one Head, the one has the Charge of Peace, the other of War; those have the Profit, these the Honour; those the Wisdom, these the Vertue; those the Word, these the Action; those Justice, these Valour; those Reason, these Force; those the long Robe, these the short divided betwixt them.

For what concerns indifferent things, as Cloaths, who would debauch them from their true and real use, which is the Bodies Service and Convenience, and upon which their ori­ginal Grace and Decency depend, for the most fantastick, in my Opinion, that can be imagin'd: I will instance amongst others, our [Page 164] flat Caps, that long Tail of Velvet that hangs down from our Womens Heads, and that la­scivious and abominable model of a Member we cannot in Modesty so much as name, which nevertheless we shamefully strut withall in pub­lick. These Considerations notwithstanding will not prevail upon any understanding Man to decline the common Mode; but on the contrary, methinks all singular and parti­cular Fashions are rather marks of Folly and vain Affectation, than of sound Reason, and that a wiseman ought within to withdraw and retire his Soul from the Crowd, and there keep it at Liberty, and in power to Judge freely of things; but as to this outward Garb and Ap­pearance, absolutely to follow and conform himself to the Fashion of the Time. Publick Society has nothing to do with our Thoughts, but the rest, as our Actions, our Labours, our Fortunes and our Lives, we are to lend and abandon them to the common Opinion and Publick Service, as did that good and great Socrates who refus'd to preserve his Life by a Disobedience to the Magistrate, though a very wicked and unjust one: for it is the Rule of Rules, and the general Law of Laws, that every one observe those of the Place wherein he lives. ‘ [...].’

Besides it is a very great doubt, whether an [...] so manifest Benefit and Advantage can accrue [Page 165] from the Alteration of a Law or Custom re­ceiv'd, let it be what it will, as there is Dan­ger and Inconvenience in doing it; forasmuch as Government is a Structure compos'd of seve­ral Parts and Members joyn'd and united to­gether, with so strict Affinity and Union, that it is almost impossible to stir so much as one Brick or Stone, but the whole Body will settle and be sensible of it. The Legisla­tor of the Thurian [...] ordain'd, That whosoever would go about either to abolish old Laws, or to establish new, should present himself with a Halter about his Neck to the People; to the end, that if the Innovation he would introduce should not be approv'd by every one, he might immediately be hang'd; and that of the Lacedaemoni [...]ns made it the Business of his whole Life, to obtain from his Citizens a faithful Promise, that none of his Laws should be violated. The Ephorus who so rudely cut the two Strings that Phrynis had added to Musick, never stood to examine whether that Addition made better Harmony, or that by that means the Instrument was more full and compleat; it was enough to him to condemn the Invention, that it was a Novelty, and an Alteration of the old Fashion. Which also is the Meaning of the old rusty Sword carried before the Magistracy of Marcelles. For my own part, I have my self a very great Aversion for Novelty, what Face, or what Pretence soever it may carry along with it, and have reason, having been an Eye-witness of the great Inconveniences it has produc'd. A man [Page 166] cannot, I confess, truly say, That the Mise­ries, which for so many Years have lain [...] heavy upon the Kingdom of France, are whol­ly occasion'd by it; but a Man may say, and with colour enough, that it has accidentally produc'd and begot both the Mischiefs and Ruines that are since continued both without and against it, and is principally that we are to accuse for these Disorders.

They who give the first shock to a State, are voluntarily the first over-whelm'd in its R [...]ne; the Fruits of publick Commotion are seldom enjoy'd by him who was the first Mo­tor, he only troubles the Water for anothers Net, and beats the Bush whilst another gets the Hare. The Unity and Contexture of this Monarchy, having been manifestly in her old Age rip'd and torn by this thing call'd Innovation, has since laid open a Rent, and given sufficient Admittance to the like Inju­ries in these latter Times. The Royal Maje­sty does with greater Difficulty stoop and de­base it self from the height to the Middle, than it falls and tumbles headlong from the Middle to the Foundation. But if the Inven­tors did the greater mischief, the Imitators are more vicious, to follow Examples of which they have felt, and punish'd both the Horror and the Offence. And if there can [Page 167] be any degree of Horror in ill doing, these last are indebted to the other for the Glory of contriving, and the Courage of making the first Attempt. All sorts of new Disorder ea­sily draw from this primitive and over-flowing Fountain, Examples and Presidents to trouble and discompose our Government. We read in our very Laws made for the remedy of this first Evil, the Beginning and Pretences of all sorts of naughty Enterprises; and in favour of publick Vices, give them new and more plausible Names for their Excuse sweetning and disguising their true Titles, which must be done to win forsooth, and reclaim us; Honesta oratio est, but the best Pretence for Innovati­on is of very dangerous Consequence; and freely to speak my Thoughts, it argues me­thinks a strange self Love, and a great Pre­sumption of a Man's self, to be so fond of his own Opinions, that a publick Peace must be overthrown to establish them, and to intro­duce so many inevitable Mischiefs, and so dreadful a Corruption of Manners, as a Civil War, and the Mutations of State consequent to it, always brings in its Train; and to in­troduce them in a thing of so high Concern, into the Bowels of a Man's own Country. Can there he worse Husbandry than to set up so many certain and detected Vices against Er­rors, that are only contested, and disputable whether they be such or no? And are there a­ny worse sorts of Vices than those committed against a man's own Conscience, and the natu­ral Light of his own Reason? The Senate, up­on [Page 168] the Dispute betwixt it and the People a­bout the Administration of their Religion, was bold enough to return this Evasion for current Pay: Ad Deos, id magis quàm ad se pertinere; ipsos visuros, ne sacra sua polluantur: That those things more belong to the Gods to determine, than to them; let them therefore have a care their sacred Mysteries were not prophan'd: according to that the Oracle answer'd to those of Delphos, who, fearing to be invaded by the Persians, in the Median War, enquir'd of Apollo, how they should dispose of the holy Treasure of his Temple, whether they should hide, or remove it to some other Place? He return'd them Answer, that they should stir nothing from thence, and only take care of themselves, for he was sufficient to look to what belong'd to him. Christian Religion has all the Marks of the utmost Utility and Justice: but none more ma­nifest than the severe Injunction it lays indif­ferently upon all to yield absolute Obedience to the Civil Magistrate, and to maintain and defend the Laws: of which, what a wonder­ful Example has the Divine Wisdom left us, who to work and establish the Salvation of Mankind, and to conduct this his glorious Victory over Death and Sin, would do it after no other way, but at the Mercy of our or­dinary forms of Justice, submitting the Pro­gress and Issue of so high, and so salutiferous an Effect, to the blindness and injustice of our Customs and Observations, suffering the innocent Blood of so many of his Elect, and [Page 169] so long a loss of so many Years to the ma­turing of this inestimable Fruit? There is a vast difference betwixt the Cases of one that follows the Forms and Laws of his Country, and another that will undertake to regulate and change them; of which the first pleads Simplicity, Obedience, and Example for his Excuse, who, whatever he shall do, it cannot be imputed to Malice, 'tis at the worst but Misfortune. Quis est [...] enim, Cicero de Divin. l. quem non moveat clarissimis monumentis testata, consignataque an­tiquitas? For who is it that Antiquity, sealed, and attested with so many glorious Monuments cannot move? Besides what Isocrates says, that Defect is nearer ally'd to Moderation than Ex­cess. The other is a much more ruffling Game­ster: for whosoever shall take upon him to choose, to alter, and usurp the Authority of judging, ought to look well about him, and make it his Business to discover the Defect of what he would abolish, and the vertue of what he is about to introduce. This so easie, and so vulgar consideration, is that which settled me in my Station, and kept even my most extravagant and ungovern'd Youth un­der the rein, so as not to burthen my Shoul­ders with so great a weight, as to render my self responsible for a Science of that impor­tance; and in this to dare, what in my better and more mature Judgment, I durst not do in the most easie, and indifferent things I had been instructed, and wherein the temerity of judging is of no consequence at all. It seeming to me very unjust to go about to sub­jest [Page 170] publick and establish'd Customs and Insti­tutions, to the weakness, and instability of a private and particular Fancy, (for private Reason is but a private Jurisdiction) and to attempt that upon the Divine, which no Go­vernment will endure a Man should do upon the Civil Laws. With which, though hu­mane Reason has much more Commerce, than with the other; yet are they sovereignly judg'd by their own proper Judges, and the utmost sufficiency, serves only to expound, and set forth the Law and Custom receiv'd, and nei­ther to wrest it, nor to introduce any thing of Innovation. And if sometimes the Divine Pro­vidence have gone beyond the Rules, to which it has necessarily bound, and oblig'd us Men; it is not to give us any Dispensation to do the same; those are only master stroaks of the Di­vine hand, which we are not to imitate, but admire, and extraordinary Examples, marks of purpos'd and particular Testimonies of Power, of the Nature of Miracles, presented before us for Manifestations of its Almighty Operation, equally above both our Rules and Forces, which it would be folly, and Impiety to attempt to represent and imitate; and that we ought not to follow, but to contemplate with the greatest Reverence and Astonishment. Arts proper for his Person who has Power to do them, and not for us Cotta very opportunely declares, that when Matter of Religion is in question, he will be govern'd by T. Corunconus, P. Scipio, P. Scaevola, who were the High Priests, and not by Zeno, Cleanthes, or Chrysippus, who [Page 171] where Philosophers. God knows in the present Quarrel of our Civil War, where there are a hundred Articles to dash out and to put in, and those great and very considerable ones too, how many there are who can truly boast, they have exactly and perfectly weigh'd and under­stood the Grounds and Reasons of the one and the other Party. 'Tis a Number (if it make any number) that would be able to procure us very little Disturbance: but what becomes of all the rest, under what Ensigns do they march, in what Quarter do they lie? Theirs have the same Effect with other weak and ill apply'd Medicines, they have only set the Hu­mours they would Purge, more violently in working, stirr'd and exasperated them by the Conflict, and left them still behind. The A­pozem was too weak to purge, but strong e­nough to weaken us; so that it does not work, but we keep it still in our Bodies, and reap nothing from the Operation but intestine Gripes and Dolours; so it is nevertheless, that Fortune still reserving her Authority in Defiance of whatever we are able to do or say, does sometimes present us with a Necessi­ty so urgent, that 'tis requisite the Laws should a little yield, and give way; and when one opposes the Encrease of ann Innovation that thus intrudes it self by Violence, to keep a Man's self in so doing in all Places, and in all things, within the Bounds and Rules pre­scrib'd, against those who have the Power, and to whom all things are lawful, that may any way serve to advance their Design, who have [Page 172] no other Law nor Rule but what serves best to their own Purpose; is a dangerous Obliga­tion, and an intolerable Inequality.

Forasmuch as the ordinary Discipline of a healthful State does not provide against these extraordinary Accidents, she presupposes a Bo­dy that supports it self in its principal Mem­bers and Offices, and a common consent to its Obedience and Observation. A legal Pro­ceeding is cold, heavy and constrain'd, and not fit to make Head against a head-strong and unbridled Proceeding. 'Tis known to be to this day cast in the Dish of those two great Men, Octavius and Cato, in the two Civil Wars of Scylla and Caesar, that they would ra­ther suffer their Country to undergo the last Extremities, than to relieve their Fellow Ci­tizens at the Expence of its Laws, or to be guilty of any Innovation; for in truth, in these last Necessities, where there is no other Re­medy, it would peradventure be more dis­creetly done, to stoop, and yield a little to receive the Blow, than by opposing without Possibility of doing any good, to give occasion to Violence to trample all under foot; and better to make the Laws do what they can, when they cannot do what they would. Af­ter this manner did he who suspended them for four and twenty Hours, and he who for [Page 173] once shifted a day in the Calendar, and that other who in the Month of Iune made a Second of May. The Lacedaemonians them­selves, who were so religious Observers of the Laws of their Country being straitned by one of their own Edicts, by which it was ex­presly forbidden to choose the same Man to be Admiral; and on the other side, their Affairs necessarily requiring, that Lysander should again take upon him that Command, they made one Aratus Admiral, 'tis true, but with­all, Lysander went Superintendent of the Navy. And by the same Subtilty and Equivocation, one of their Ambassadours being sent to the Athenians to obtain the Revocation of some Decree, and Pericles remonstrating to him, that it was forbid to take away the Tablet, wherein a Law had once been engross'd, he advis'd him to turn it only, that being not forbidden at all; and Plu [...]arch commends Phi­lopoemen, that being born to Command, he knew how to do it, not only according to the Laws, but also to over-rule even the Laws themselves, when the publick Necessity so requir'd.

JAques Amiot, great Almoner of France, one day related to me this Story, much to the Honour of a Prince of ours (and ours he is up­on [Page 174] on several very good Accounts, though origi­nally of Foreign Extraction) that in the [...] of our first Commotions at the Siege of Ro [...], this Prince, having been adverds'd by the Queen-Mother of a Conspiracy against his Life, and in her Letters particular notice being gi­ven him of the Person who was to execute the Business (who was a Gentleman of Anjo [...], or else of Mayne, and who to this Effect did fre­quently haunt this Prince's House) discover'd not a Syllable of this Intelligence to any one whatever, but going the next day to St. K [...] ­tharine's Mount, from whence our Battery play'd against the Town (for it was during the time of a Siege) and having in Company with him the said Lord Almoner, and another Bishop, he was presently aware of this Gen­tleman, who had been denoted to him, and presently caus'd him to be call'd to his Pre­sence; to whom being come before him, see­ing him pale, and trembling with the Consci­ence of his Guilt, he thus said, Mons [...]eur such a one, You already guess what I have to say to you, your Counte [...]ance discover's it, and therefore 'tis in vain to disguise your Practice; for I am so well inform'd of your Business, that it will but make worse for you, to go about to conceal or to deny it: you know very well such and such Passages, (which were the most secret Cir­cumstances of his Conspiracy) and therefore be sure, as you tender your own Life, to confess to me the whole Truth of your Design. The poor Man seeing himself thus trap'd, and convinc'd (for the whole Business had been discover'd to [Page 175] the Queen by one of the Complices) was in such a Taking, he knew not what to do; but joyning his Hands to beg and sue for Mercy, he meant to throw himself at this Prince's Feet, who taking him up, proceeded to say, Come on Sir, and tell me, have I at any time heretofore done you any Injury? or have I, through my particular Hatred or private Malice, offended any Kinsman or Friend of yours? It is not above three Weeks that I have known you; What inducement then could move you to attempt my Death? To which the Gentleman, with a trembling Voice, reply'd, That it was no par­ticular Grudge he had to his Person, but the general Interest and Concern of his Party, and that he had been put upon it by some who had per­swaded him it would be a meritorious Act, by any means to extirpate so great and so powerful an Enemy of their Religion. Well, said the Prince, I will now let you see, how much more charitable the Religion is that I maintain, than that which you profess; Yours has perswaded you to kill me, without hearing me to speak, and without ever having given you any cause of Offence; and mine commands me to forgive you, convict as you are, by your own Confession, of a Design to murther me without Reason. Get you gone, that I see you no more; and if you are wise, choose hence­forward honester Men for your Councellors in your Designs. The Emperour Augustus, being in Gaul, had certain information of a Con­spiracy L. Cinna was contriving against him, who thereupon resolv'd to make him an Exam­ple; and to that end sent to summon his [Page 176] Friends to meet the next morning in Coun­sel; but the night between he past over, with unquietness of Mind, considering that he was to put to death a young man, of an illustri­ous Family, and Nephew to the great Pompey; which made him break out into several ejacu­lations of Passion: What then, said he, Shall it be said, that I shall live in perpetual Anxi­ety, and continual Alarm, and suffer my Assas­sinates in the mean time to walk abroad at Li­berty? shall he go unpunished after having conspir'd against my Life, a Life that I have hitherto defended in so many Civil Wars, and so many Battles both by Land and Sea? And after having settled the Universal Peace of the whole World, shall this man be pardoned, who has conspired not only to Murther, but to Sacrifice me? For the Conspiracy was to kill him at Sacrifice. After which, remaining for some time silent, he re-begun louder, and straining his Voice more than before to exclaim against himself, and say, Why liv'st thou? If it be for the good of many that thou should'st Die? must there be no end of thy Revenges and Cruelties? Is thy Life of so great value, that so many Mischiefs must be done to pre­serve it? His Wife Livia, seeing him in this perplexity; Will you take a Woman's Coun­sel, said she? Do as the Physicians do, who when the ordinary Recipe's will do no good, make Tryal of the contrary. By severity you have hitherto prevail'd nothing; Lepidus has follow'd Savidienus, Murena Lepidus, Caepi [...] Murena, and Egnatius Caepio. Begin now and [Page 177] try how Sweetness and Clemency will succeed. Cinna is convict, forgive him, he will never henceforth have the Heart to hurt thee, and it will be an Act of Glory. Augustus was glad that he had met with an Advocate of his own Humour; wherefore, having thank'd his Wife, and in the Morning countermanded his Friends he had before summon'd to Coun­cil, he commanded Cinna all alone to be brought to him; who being accordingly come, and a Chair by his Appointment set him, ha­ving commanded every one out of the Room, he spake to him after this manner: In the first place, Cinna, I demand of thee patient Audi­ence; do not interrupt me in what I am about to say, and I will afterwards give thee Time and Leisure to answer. Thou know'st, Ci­na, that having taken thee Prisoner in the Enemies Camp, and that an Enemy not only made, but born so, I gave thee thy Life, re­stor'd thee all thy Goods, and finally put thee in so good a posture, by my Bounty of living well and at thy ease, that the Victorious en­vy'd the Conquer'd. The Sacerdotal Office which thou mad'st Suit to me for, I conferr'd upon thee, after having deny'd it to others, whose Fathers have ever born Arms in my Ser­vice: and after so many Obligations thou hast undertaken to kill me. At which Cinna cry­ing out, that he was very far from entertain­ing any so wicked a Thought; Thou dost not keep thy Promise, Cinna, (continued Augu­stus) that thou would st not interrupt me. Yes, thou hast undertaken to murther me in [Page 178] such a Place, such a Day, in such and such Company, and in such a Manner. At which Words seeing Cinna astonish'd and silent, not upon the Account of his Promise so to be, but interdict with the Conscience of his Crime; Why, proceeded Augustus, to what end would'st thou do it? Is it to be Emperour? Believe me, the Republick is in a very ill Con­dition, if I am the only Man betwixt thee and the Empire. Thou art not able so much as to defend thy own House, and but t'other day wast baffled in a Suit, by the oppos'd Interest of a mean manumitted Slave. What, hast thou neither Means nor Power in any other thing, but only to attempt against Caesar? I quit claim to the Empire, if there is no other but I to obstruct thy Hopes. Can'st thou be­lieve, that Paulus, that Fabius, that the Cas­sians and Servilians, and so many Noble Ro­mans, not only so in Title, but who by their Virtue honour their Nobility, would suffer or endure thee? After this, and a great deal more that he said to him, (for he was two long Hours in speaking) Well, Cinna, go thy way, said he, I again give thee that Life in the Quality of a Traytor and a Parricide, which I once before gave thee in the Quality of an Enemy. Let Friendship from this time forward begin betwixt us, and let us try to make it appear whether I have given, or thou hast receiv'd thy Life with the better Faith; and so departed from him. Some time after, he preferr'd him to the Consular Dignity, complaining, that he had not the Confidence [Page 179] to demand it; had him ever after for his very great Friend, and was at last made by him sole Heir to all his Estate. Now from the time of this Accident, which befell Augustus in the fortieth Year of his Age, he never had any Conspiracy or Attempt against him, and therein reap'd the due Reward of this his so generous and exemplary Clemency. But it did not so well succeed with our Prince in the former Story, his Moderation and Mercy not being sufficient so to secure him, that he did not afterwards fall into the toils of the like Treason, so vain and frivolous a thing is Hu­mane Prudence; and in spight of all our Pro­jects, Counsels, and Precautions, Fortune will still be Mistress of Events. We repute Physicians fortunate when they hit upon a luc­ky Cure, as if there was no other Art but theirs that could not stand upon its own Legs, and whose Foundations are too weak to sup­port its self upon its own Basis, and as if no other Art stood in need of Fortunes Hand to assist in its Operations. For my part, I think of Physick as much good or ill as any one would have me: for, Thanks be to God, we have no great Traffick together. I am of a quite contrary Humour to other men, for I always despise it; but when I am sick, instead of re­canting, or entring into Composition with it, I begin yet more to hate, nauseate, and fear it, telling them who importune me to enter into a course of Physick, that they must give me time to recover my Strength and Health, that I may be the better able to support and [Page 180] encounter the violence and danger of the Poti­on: so that I still let Nature work, supposing her to be sufficiently arm'd with Teeth and Claw [...] to defend her self from the Assaults of Infirmity, and to uphold that Contexture, the Dissolution of which she flies and abhors: for I am afraid, least instead of Assisting her when grappled, and strugling with the Disease, I should Assist her Adversary, and procure new Work, and new Accidents to encounter. Now I say, that not in Physick only, but in other more certain Arts, Fortune has a very great inte­rest and share. The Poetick Raptures, and those prodigious flights of Fancy, that ravish and transport the Author out of himself, why should we not atrribute them to his good Fortune, since the Poet himself confesses they exceed his Sufficiency and Force, and acknow­ledges them to proceed from something else than himself, and has them no more in his Power than the Orators say they have those extraordinary Motions and Agitations that sometimes push them beyond their Design. It is the same in Painting, where Touches shall sometimes slip from the hand of the Painter, so surpassing both his Fancy and his Art, as to beget his own Admiration. But Fortune does yet more accidentally manifest the share she has in all things of this kind, by the Graces and Elegancies are found out in them, not only beyond the Intention, but even without the Knowledge of the Artist. A judicious Reader does often find out in other Mens Writings, other kind of Perfections, and finds in them a [Page 181] better Sence and more queint Expression than the Author himself either intended or per­ceiv'd. And, as to military Enterprizes and Executions, every one sees how great a hand Fortune has in all those Affairs; even in our very Counsels and Deliberations there must certainly be something of Chance and good Luck mix'd with Humane Prudence, for all that our Wisdom can do alone is no great matter; the more piercing, quick, and appre­hensive it is, the weaker ii finds it self, and is by so much more apt to mistrust its own Ver­tue. I am of Sylla's Opinion, and when I most strictly and nearer hand examine the most glorious Exploits of War, I perceive, me thinks, that those who carry them on, make use of Counsel and Debate only for Customs sake, and leave the best part of the Enterprize to Fortune, and relying upon her Favour and Assistance, transgress at every turn the Bounds of Military Conduct, and the Rules of War. There happen sometimes accidental Alacrities and strange Furies in their Deliberations, that for the most part prompt them to follow the worst, and worst grounded Counsels, and that swell their Courag [...]s beyond the Limits of Reason: from whence it falls out, that many great Captains, Monluc in his Com­mentarisse. to justifie those temerarious Deliberations, have been forc'd to tell their Souldiers, that they were by some Inspiration and good Omen encourag'd and invited to such Attempts. Wherefore, in this Doubt and Uncertainty that the short-sightedness of Hu­mane Wisdom to see and choose the best, (by [Page 182] reason of the Difficulties that the various Ac­cidents and Circumstances of things bring along with them) does perplex us withall, the surest way in my Opinion, did no other Consideration invite us to it, were to pitch upon that wherein is the greatest Appearance of Honesty and Justice, and not being certain of the shortest, to go the straightest and most direct way; as in these two Examples I have before laid down; there is no question to be made but it was more noble and generous in him who had receiv'd the Offence, to pardon it, as they both did, than to do otherwise, and if the former miscarried in it, he is not nevertheless to be blam'd for his good Intenti­on: neither does any one know if he had pro­ceeded otherwise, whether by that means he had avoided the end his Destiny had appointed for him; and he had however lost the Glory of so generous an Act. You will find in History, many who have been in this apprehension, that the most part have taken the course to meet, and prevent Conspiracies by Punishment and Revenge; but I find but very few who have reap'd any Advantage by this proceeding; witness so many Roman Emperours: and who­ever finds himself in this danger, ought not to expect much either from his Vigilancy or Power; for how hard a thing is it for a man to secure himself from an Enemy, who lies con­ceal'd under the countenance of the most offici­ous Friend we have, and to discover and know the Wills and inward Thoughts of those who are continually doing us service? 'Tis to [Page 183] much purpose to have a Guard of Strangers about a man's Person, and to be always senced about with a Pale of armed men; whosoever despises his own Life, is always Master of that of another man. And moreover, this conti­nual suspicion, that makes a Prince jealous of all the World, must of necessity be a strange Torment to him, and therefore it was, that Dion, being advertis'd that Calippus watch'd all opportunities to take away his Life, had never the Heart to enquire more particularly into it, saying, That he had rather die, than live in that misery that he must continually stand upon his Guard, not only against his Enemies, but his Friends also; which Alexan­der much more lively manifested in effect, when having notice by a Letter from Parmenio, that Philip, his most beloved Physician, was by Darius his money corrupted to poyson him, at the same time that he gave the Letter to Philip to read, sup'd of the Potion he had brought him. Was not this by such a Resolu­tion to express, that if his Friends had a mind to dispatch him out of the World, he was willing to give them opportunity to do it? This Prince is indeed the Sovereign President of all hazardous Actions; but I do not know whether there be another passage in his Life wherein there is so much steadiness and con­stancy as in this, nor so illustrious an Image of the greatness of his Mind. Those who preach to Prices so circumspect and vigilant a jea­lousie and distrust, under colour of Security, preach to them ruine and dishonour. Nothing [Page 184] Noble can ever be perform'd without Danger. I know a Person, naturally of a very great daring and enterprizing Courage, whose good fortune is continually prevented, and fore­stall'd by such perswasions, that he must retire into the gross of his own Body, and keep those he knows are his Friends continually about him, that he must not hearken to any Recon­ciliation with his ancient Enemies, that he must stand off, and not trust his Person in hands stronger than his own, what promises or offers soever they may make him, or what advantages soever he may see before him. And I know another, who has unexpectedly made his Fortune by following a contrary Advice. Courage, the Reputation and Glory of which men seek with so greedy an Appetite, repre­sents and sets it self out when need requires, as magnificently in Querpo, as in the neatest Arms, in a Closet, as Well as a Camp; and this overcircumspect and wary Prudence is a mortal Enemy to all high and generous Ex­ploits. Scipio, to sound Syphax his intention, leaving his Army, and abandoning Spain, not yet secure, nor well settled in his new Con­quest, could pass over into Africk in two con­temptible Bottoms, to commit himself, in an Enemies Country, to the power of a Barba­rian King, to a Faith untry [...]d and unknown, without Precaution, without Hostage, under the sole security of the greatness of his own Courage, his good Fortune, and the promise of his elevated Hopes. Habita fides ipsam plerum­que fidem obligat. Livius. Trust oftentimes obliges [Page 185] Fidelity. On the contrary, Fear and Diffi­dence invite and draw on injury and offence. The most mistrustful of all our Kings settled his Affairs principally by voluntarily giving up his Life and Liberty into his Enemies hands, by that action manifesting that he had an abso­lute confidence in them, to the end they might repose as great an assurance in him. Caesar did only oppose the Authority of his Countenance, and the sharpness of his Re­bukes to his mutinous Legions, and rebellious Army.

But it is true withall, that this undaunted assurance is not to be represented in its true and lively form, but by such whom the ap­prehension of Death, and the worst that can happen, does no way terrifie and affright; for to represent a pretended Resolution with a pale and doubtful Countenance, and trembling Limbs for the forc [...]d Service of an important Reconciliation, will effect nothing to purpose. 'Tis an excellent way to gain the Heart, and conquer the Will of another, to go submit, and intrust a man's Person to him, provided it appear to be frankly done, and without [Page 186] the constraint of necessity, and in such a con­dition, that a man manifestly does it out of a pure and entire confidence in the Party, at least with a Countenance clear from any Cloud of suspicion. I saw, when I was a Boy, a Gentleman, who was Governour of a great City, upon occasion of a Popular Commotion and Fury, not knowing what other course to take, go out of a Place of very great Strength and Security, and commit himself to the mer­cy of the seditious Rabble, in hopes by that means to appease the Tumult before it grew to a more formidable Head: but it was ill for him that he did so, for he was there misera­bly slain. But I am not nevertheless of opi­on, that he committed so great an Errour in go­ing out, as Men commonly reproach this Me­mory withal, as he did in choosing a gentle and submissive way for the effecting his pur­pose, and in endeavouring to quiet this storm, rather by obeying than commanding, and by Entreaty rather than Remonstrance; and am inclin'd to believe, that a gracious Severity, with a Souldier-like way of commanding, full of Security, and confidence suitable to the Quality of his Person; and the Dignity of his Command, would have succeeded better with him; at least, he had perish'd with greater Decency and Reputation. There is nothing so little to be expected, or hop'd for from this many-headed Monster, when so incens'd, as Humanity and good Nature; it is much more capable of Reverence and Fear. I should also reproach him, that having taken a Resolution [Page 187] (in my Judgment rather brave than rash) to ex­pose himself weak and naked in this tempestu­ous Sea of enraged Franticks; he ought boldly to have stem'd the Current, and to have born himself bravely aloft; whereas coming to discover his Danger nearer hand, and his Nose thereupon happning to bleed, he again chang'd that demiss and fawning Countenance he had at first put on, into another of Fear and Amazement, and filling both his Voice and Eyes with Entreaties and Tears, and in that Posture endeavouring to withdraw and se­cure his Person, that Carriage more enflam'd their Fury, and soon brought the Effects of it upon him. It was upon a time in a certain Place order'd by some, who had no very good Meaning in it, that there should be a general Muster of several Troops in Arms (for that is the most proper Scene of scecret Revenges, and there is no Place where they can be executed with greater Safety) and there were publick and manifest Appearances, that there was no safe coming for some, whose principal and ne­cessary Office it was to view them. Where­upon a Consultation was call'd, and several Counsels were propos'd, as in a case that was very nice, and of great Difficulty; and more­over, of important consequence. Mine, a­mongst the rest, was, that they should by all means avoid giving any sign of Suspicion, but that the Officers who were most in danger should boldly go, and with cheerful and erect Countenances ride boldly and confidently tho­rough the Files and Divisions, and that in­stead [Page 188] of sparing Fire (which the Counsels of the major part tended to) they should entreat the Captains to command the Souldiers to give round and full Volleys in Honour of the Spectators, and not to spare their Powder: which was accordingly done, and serv'd to so good use, as to please and gratifie the sus­pected Troops, and thenceforward to beget a mutual and wholesome Confidence and Intelli­gence amongst them. I look upon Julius Cae­sar's way of winning Men to him as the best, and most plausible, that can possibly be put in practice. First, he try'd by Clemency to make himself belov'd even by his very Enemies, con­tenting himself in detected Conspiracies, only publickly to declare, that he was pre-acquain­ted with them; which being done, he took a noble Resolution to expect, without Sollici­tude or Fear, whatever might be the Event, wholly resigning up himself to the Protection of the Gods and Fortune: for questionless in this very Estate he was at the time when he was kill'd. A Stranger having publickly said, that he could teach Dionysius the Tyrant of Syracusa an infallible way to find out and discover all the Conspiracies his Subjects should contrive against him, if he would give him a good Sum of Money for his Pains: Dionysius, hearing of it, caus'd the Man to be brought to him, that he might learn an Art so necessary to his Pre­servation; and having ask'd him by what Art he might make such Discoveries, the Fellow made Answer, That all the Art he knew, was, That he should give him a [Page 189] Talent, and afterwards boast that he had ob­tain'd a singular Secret from him. Dionysius lik'd the Invention, and accordingly caus'd fix hundred Crowns to be counted out to him. It was not likely he should give so great a Sum to a Person unknown, but upon the ac­count of some extraordinary Discovery, the belief of which serv'd to keep his Enemies in awe. Princes however do very wisely, to publish the Informations they receive of all the Practices against their Lives, to possess men with an opinion they have so good Intel­ligence, and so many Spies abroad, that no­thing can be plotted against them, but they have present notice of it. The Duke of A­thens did a great many ridiculous things to establish his new Tyranny over Florence: but this especially was most remarkable, that ha­ving receiv'd the first intimation of the Con­spiracies the People were hatching against him, by Mattheo di Moroso, one of the Conspi­rators, he presently put him to death, to sup­press that Rumour, that it might not be thought any of the City dislik'd his Govern­ment. I remember I have formerly read a Story of some Roman of great Quality, who, flying the Tyranny of the Triumvirate, had a thousand times, by the subtilty of as many Inventions, escap'd from falling into the hands of those that pursu'd him. It hap'ned one day, that a Troop of Horse which was sent out to take him, pass'd / close by a Brake where he was sguat, and miss [...]d very narrowly of spying him: but he considering, upon the [Page 190] instant, the Pains and Difficulties wherein he had so long continued, to evade the strict and continual Searches were every day made for him, the little Pleasure he could hope for in such a kind of Life, and how much better it was for him to die once for all, than to be perpetually at this pass, he started from his Seat himself, call'd them back, shew'd them his Form, and voluntarily deliver'd himself up to their Cruelty, by that means to free both him­self and them from further Trouble. To invite a man's Enemies to come and cut his Throat, was a Resolution that appears a little extra­vagant and odd; and yet I think he did better to take that course, than to live in a Quotidi­an Ague; and for which there was no Cure. But seeing all the Remedies a Man can apply to such a Disease, are full of Unquietness, and uncertain, 'tis better with a manly Courage to prepare ones self for the worst that can happen, and to extract some Consolation from this, That we are not certain the thing we fear will ever come to pass:

I Was often, when a Boy, wonderfully con­cern'd to see in the Italian Farces a Pedant always brought in for the Fool of the Play, and that the Title of Magister was in no greater Reverence amongst us, for being deliver'd up [Page 191] to their Tuition, what could I do less than be jealous of their Honour and Reputation? I sought, I confess, to excuse them by the na­tural incompatibility betwixt the Vulgar fort, and men of a finer thread, both in Judg­ment and Knowledge, for as much as they go a quite contrary way to one another: But in this, the thing I most stumbled at was, that the bravest men were those who most de­spis'd them; witness our famous Poet du Bellay, ‘ Da Bellay.Mais je hay par sur tout un scavoir pedantesque.’

And they us'd to do so in former times; for Plutarch says, that Graecian, and Scholar, were names of reproach and contempt amongst the Romans. But since, with the better experi­ence of Age, I find they had very great reason so to do, and that magis magnos Clericos non sunt magis magnos sapientes. Rabelais. The greatest Clerks are not the wisest men. But whence it should come to pass, that a Mind enrich'd with the knowledge of so many things, should not. become more quick and spritely, and that a gross and vulgar understanding should yet inhabit there without correcting and im­proving it self, where all the Discourses, and Judgments of the greatest Wits the World e­ver had, are collected, and stor'd up, I am yet to seek. To admit so many strange Concep­tions, so great and so high Fancies, it is neces­sary, (as a young Lady, and one of the grea­test [Page 192] Princesses of the Kingdom, said to me once) that a man's own be crowded, and squeez'd together into a less compass, to make room for the other. I should be apt to conclude, that as Plants are suffocated, and drown'd with too much nourishment, and Lamps with too much Oyl, so is the active part of the Understanding with too much study and Matter, which being embarass'd, and con­founded with the diversity of things, is de­priv'd of the Force and Power to disengage it self; and that by the pressure of this weight, it is bow'd, subjected, and rendred of no use. But it is quite otherwise, for a Soul stretches and dilates it self proportionably as it fills. And in the Examples of elder times, we see quite contrary, men very proper for publick Business, great Captains, and great States­men, very Learned withall; whereas the Phi­losophers, a sort of men retir'd from all Pub­lick Affairs, have been, sometimes also de­spis'd, and render'd contemptible by the Co­mical liberty of their own Times; their Opini­ons, and singularity of Manners, making them appear to men of another method of living, ridiculous and absurd. Would you make them Judges of a Controversie of common Right, or of the Actions of Men? they are ready to take it upon them, and straight begin to examine, if he has Life, if he has Motion, if Man be any other than an Oxe? What it is to do, and to suffer? and what Animals Law and Justice are? Do they speak of the Magi­strates, 'tis with a rude, irreverent, and inde­cent [Page 193] liberty. Do they hear a Prince, or a King commended for his Vertue, they make no more of him, than of a Shepherd, Goat­herd, or Neat-herd; a lazy Corydon, that busies himself only about milking, and shear­ing his Herds and Flocks, and that after the rudest manner. Do you repute any man the greater for being Lord of two thousand A­cres of Land? they laugh at such a pitiful Pit­tance, as laying claim themselves to the whole World for their possession. Do you boast of your Nobility and Blood, for being descended from seven rich successive Ance­stors? they will look upon you with an eye of Contempt, as men who have not a right Idea of the Universal Image of Nature, and that do not consider how many Predecessors every one of us has had, Rich, Poor, Kings, Slaves, Greeks, and Barbarians. And though you were the fiftieth descent from Hercules, they look upon it as a great vanity, so highly to value this, which is only a gift of Fortune. And even so did the Vulgar sort of men nau­seare them, as men ignorant of the beginning of things, where all things were common, accusing them of Presumption and Insolence. But this Platonick Picture is far different from that these Pedants are presented by: For those were envied for raising themselves a­bove the common sort of men, for despising the ordinary Actions and Offices of Life, for having assum'd a particular and inimitable way of living, and for using a certain Method of Bumbaste and obsolete Language, quite dif­ferent [Page 194] from the ordinary way of speaking: but these are contemn'd for being as much below the usual form, as incapable of Publick Employment, for leading a Life, and confor­ming themselves to the mean and vile manners of the Vulgar. Pacuvius. Odi homines, ignava opera, Philosophica Sententia. I hate men who talk like Philosophers, but do worse than the most slothful of men. For what concerns those true Philosophers, I must needs say, that if they were great in Science, they were yet much greater in Action. And, as it is said of the Geometrician of Syracusa, Archime­des. who having been disturb'd from his Contemplation, to put some of his Skill in Practice for the Defence of his Country, that he suddenly set on foot dreadful and prodigious Engines, and that wrought Effects beyond all humane expectati­on; himself notwithstanding disdain'd his own handy-work, thinking in this he had play'd the Mechanick, and violated the Digni­ty of his Art, of which these Performances of his, (though so highly cry'd up by the Pub­lick Voice) he accounted but trivial Experi­ments, and inferiour Models: so they, when­ever they have been put upon the Proof of Action, have been seen to fly to so high a Pitch, as made it very well appear, their Souls were strangely elevated, and enrich'd with the Knowledge of Things. But some of them, seeing the Reins of Government in the hands of ignorant and unskilful Men, have avoided all Places and Interest in the Management of Affairs; and he who demanded of Crates, [Page 195] How long it was necessary to Philosophize, receiv'd this Answer, Till our Armies (said he) are no more commanded by Fools and Coxcombs. Heraclitus resign'd the Royalty to his Brother; and to the Ephesians, who re­proach'd him that he spent his time in playing with Boys before the Temple; Is it not better, said he, to do so, than to sit at the Helm of Af­fairs in your Company? Others having their Imagination advanc'd above the thoughts of the World and Fortune, have look'd upon the Tribunals of Justice, and even the Thrones of Kings, with an Eye of Contempt and Scorn; insomuch, that Empedocles refus'd the Royalty that the Agrigentines offer'd to him. Thales, once inveighing in Discourse against the Pains and Care Men put themselves to, to become rich; was answer'd by one in the Company, that he did like the Fox, who found fault with what he could not obtain. Whereupon, he had a mind, for the Jest's sake, to shew them to the contrary; and having upon this Occasi­on for once made a muster of all his Wits, wholly to employ them in the Service of pro­fit, he set a Traffick on foot, which in one Year brought him in so great Riches, that the most experienc'd in that Trade could hardly in their whole Lives, with all their Industry, have rak'd so much together. That which Aristotle reports of some who said of him, Anaxagoras, and others of their Profession, that they were wise but not prudent, in not applying their Study to more profitable things (though I do not well digest this nice Distin­ction) [Page 196] that will not however serve to excuse my Pedantick sort of Men, for to see the low and necessitous Fortune wherewith they are con­tent, we have rather Reason to pronounce that they are neither wise, nor prudent. But letting this first Reason alone, I think it bet­ter to say, that this Inconvenience proceeds from their applying themselves the wrong way to the Study of Sciences; and that after the manner we are instructed, it is no wonder if neither the Scholars nor the Masters become, though more learned, ever the wiser, or more fit for Business. In plain Truth, the Cares and Expence our Parents are at in out Education, point at nothing, but to furnish our Heads with Knowledge; but not a Word of Judgment and Vertue. Cry out of one that passes by, to the People, O, what a Learned! and of another, O what a good man goes there! they will not fail to turn their Eyes, and address their Respect to the former. There should then be a third Cryer, O the Puppies and Coxcombs! Men are ap [...] presently to enquire, Does such a one under­stand Greek? Is he a Critick in Latine? Is he a Poet? or does he only pretend to Prose? But whether he be grown better or more discreet, which are Qualities of greater Value and Con­cern, those are never enquir'd into; whereas, we should rather examine, who is better learn­ed, than who is more learned. We only toil and Labour to stuff the Memory, and in the mean time leave the Conscience and the Un­derstanding unfurnish'd and void. And, like [Page 197] Birds who fly abroad to forage for Grain, bring it home in the Beak, without tasting it themselves, to feed their Young; so our Pe­dants go picking Knowledge here and there, out of several Authors, and hold it at the Tongues end, only to spit it out, and distri­bute it amongst their Pupils. And here I cannot but smile to think how I have paid my self in shewing the Foppery of this kind of Learning, who my self am so manifest an Example; for, do I not the same thing throughout almost this whole Treatise? I go here and there, culling out of several Books the Sentences that best please me, not to keep them (for I have no Memory to retain them in) but to transplant them into this; where, to say the Truth, they are no more mine than in their first Places. We are, I conceive, knowing only in present Knowledge, and not at all in what is past, no more than in that which is to come. But the worst on't is, their Scholars and Pupils are no better nourish'd by this kind of Inspiration, nor it makes no deeper Impres­sion upon them, than the other, but passes from hand to hand, only to make a shew, to be tolerable Company, and to tell pretty Sto­ries, like a counterfeit Coyn in Counters, of no other use nor value, but to reckon with, or to set up at Cards. Seneca Epist. 105. Apud alios loqui didice­runt, non ipsi secum. Non est loquendum, sed gubernandum; They have learn'd to speak from others, not from themselves. Speaking is not so necessary as Governing. Nature, to shew that there is nothing barbarous where she has [Page 198] the sole Command, does ostentimes, in Nati­ons, where Art has the least to do, cause pro­ductions of Wit, such as may rival the great­est Effects of Art whatever. As in relation to what I am now speaking of, the Gascon Pro­verb, deriv'd from a Corn-pipe, is very quaint and subtle. Bouha prou bouha, mas a remuda lous dits qu'em. You may blow till your Eyes start out; but if once you offer to stir your Fingers, you will be at the end of your Les­son. We can say, Cicero says thus; that these were the Manners of Plato, and that these are the very Words of Aristotle: but what do we say our selves that is our own? What do we do? What do we judge? A Parrot would say as much as that. And this kind of Talking puts me in mind of that rich Gentleman of Rome, who had been sollicitous, with very great Ex­pence, to procure Men that were excellent in all sorts of Science, which he had always at­tending his Person, to the end, that when a­mongst his Friends any occasion fell out of speaking of any Subject whatsoever, they might supply his Place, and be ready to prompt him, one with a Sentence of Seneca, another with a Verse of Homer, and so forth, every one according to his Talent; and he fansied this Knowledge to be his own, because in the Heads of those who liv'd upon his Bounty. As they also do whose Learning con­sists in having noble Libraries. I know one, who, when I question him about his Reading, he presently calls for a Book to shew me, and dare not venture to tell me so much, as that [Page 199] he has Piles in his Posteriours, till first he has consulted his Dictionary, what Piles and what Posteriours are. We take other Mens Know­ledge and Opinions upon Trust; which is an idle and superficial Learning: we must make it our own. We are in this very like him, who having need of Fire, went to a Neigh­bours House to fetch it, and finding a very good one there, sat down to warm himself without remembring to carry any with him home. What good does it do us to have the Stomach full of Meat, if it do not digest, and be not incorporated with us, if it does not nourish and support us? Can we imagine that Lucullus, whom Letters, without any manner of Experience made so great and so exact a Leader, learnt to be so after this perfunctory manner? We suffer our selves to lean and relie so over-strongly upon the Arm of ano­ther, that by so doing we prejudice our own Strength and Vigour. Would I fortifie my self against the fear of Death? It must be at the Expence of Seneca: Would I extract Consola­tion for my self, or my Friend? I borrow it from him, or Cicero; whereas I might have found it in my self, had I been train'd up to make use of my own Reason. I do not fansie this relative, mendicant, and precarious Un­derstanding; for though we could become learned by other Mens Reading, I am sure a Man can never be wise but by his own Wis­dom.

From whence Ennius, Cicero Epist. 6. l. 7. ex Ennio. Nequidquam sapere sapi­entem, qui ipsi sibi prodesse non quiret; That wisfe man knows nothing, who cannot profit him­self by his Wisdom. Non enim paranda nobis solum, sed fruenda sapientia est; Cicero de Finib. l. 1. For Wisdom is not only to be acquir'd, but enjoy'd. Dio­nysius laught at the Grammarians, who cud­gell'd their Brains to enquire into the Mise­ries of Ulysses, and were ignorant of their own; at Musicians, who were so exact in tu­ning their Instruments, and never tun'd their Manners; and at Orators, who studied to declare what was Justice, but never took care to do it. If the Mind be not better dispos'd, if the Judgment be on better settled, I had much rather my Scholar had spent his time at Tennis, for at least his Body would by that Means be in better Exercise and Breath. Do but observe him when he comes back from School, after fifteen or sixteen Years that he has been there, there is nothing so aukward and maladroit, so unfit for Company or Em­ployment; and all that you shall find he has got, is, that his Latine and Greek have only made him a greater and more conceited Cox­comb than when he went from home. He should bring his Soul repleat with good Litera­ture, and he brings it only swell'd, and puff'd up with vain and empty Shreds and Snatches [Page 201] of Learning, and has really nothing more in him than he had before. These Pedants of ours, as Plato says of the Sophists, their Cousin-Germans, are, of all Men living, they who most pretend to be useful to Mankind, and who alone, of all Men, not only do not better and improve that is committed to them, as a Carpenter or a Mason would do, but make them much worse, and make them pay for being made so to boot. If the Rule which Protagoras propos'd to his Pupils were follow­ed, either that they should give him his own Demand, or make Affidavit upon Oath in the Temple how much they valued the Profit they had receiv'd under his Tuition, and according­ly satisfie him, our Pedagogues would find themselves basely gravell'd, especially if they were to be judg'd by the Testimony of my Experience. Our vulgar Perigordin Patois does pleasantly call them Pretenders to Lear­ning, Lettre-ferits, as a Man should say, Letter­mark'd; a man on whom Letters have been stamp'd by the Blow of a Mallet; and in truth for the most part, they appear to have a soft place in their Skulls, and to be depriv'd even of common Sense. For you see the Husband­man, and the Cobler, go simply and honest­ly about their Business, speaking only of what they know and understand; whereas these Fellows, to make perade, and to get opinion, mustering this ridiculous knowledge of theirs that swims and floats in the Superficies of the Brain, are perpetually perplexing and entan­gling themselves in their own Nonsence.

[Page 202] They speak fine words sometimes, 'tis true, but let some body that is wiser apply them. They are wonderfully well acquainted with Galen, but not at all with the Disease of the Patient; they have already deas'd you with a long ribble-row of Laws, but understand nothing of the case in hand; They have the Theories of all things, let who will put it in practice. I have sate by, when a Friend of mine, in my own House, for sport sake, has with one of these Fellows counterfeited a canting Galimatias, patcht up of several Ex­pressions without head or foot, saving that he now and then interlarded here and there some terms that had relation to their Dispute, and held the Coxcomb in play a whole After­noon together, who all the while thought he had answer'd pertinently, and learnedly to all his Objections. And yet this was a man of Letters, and Reputation, and no worse than one of the long Robe.

Whosoever shall narrowly pry into, and tho­roughly sist this sort of People, wherewith the World is so pestered, will, as I have done, find, that for the most part, they nei­ther understand others, nor themselves; and [Page 203] that their Memories are full enough, 'tis true, but the Judgment totally void and empty; some excepted, whose own Nature has of it self form'd them into better fashion. As I have observ'd for Example in Adrianus Turnebus, Testimo­ny of Adri­anus Tur­nebus. who having never made other profession, than that of mere Learning only, and in that, in my opinion, the greatest man that has been these thousand years, had no­thing at all in him of the Pedant, but the wea­ring of his Gown, and a little exteriour fa­shion, that could not be civiliz'd to the Garb, which are nothing; and I hate our People, who can worse endure a Pedantick Mode, than an ill contriv'd Mind, and take their mea­sures by the Leg a man makes, by his behaviour and so much as the very fashion of his Boots, what a kind of man he is. For within all this, there was not a more illustrious and po­lite Soul living upon Earth. I have often purposely put him upon Arguments quite wide of his Profession, wherein I found he had so clear an insight, so quick an apprehen­sion, and so solid a Judgment: that a man would have thought he had never practis'd any other thing but Arms, and been all his life enploy'd in Affairs of State. And these are great and vigorous Natures.

The Sun has made of Clay much more refin'd. [Page 204] that can keep themselves upright in defiance of a Pedantick Education. But it is not enough that our Education does not spoil us; it must moreover alter us for the better. Some of our Parliaments, when they are to admit Officers, examine only their Talent of Learn­ing; to which some of the others also add the tryal of Understanding, by asking their Judg­ment of some Case in Law, of which the latter methinks proceed with the better Method: for although both are necessary, and that it is very requisite they should be defective in nei­ther, yet in truth, Knowledge is not so abso­lutely necessary as Judgment, and the last may make shift without the other, but the o­ther never without this. For as the Greek Verse says.

To what Use serves Learning, if the Under­standing be away? Would to God, that, for the good of our Judicature, those Socie­ties were as well furnish'd with Understand­ing and Conscience, as they are with Know­ledge. Non Vitae, Sen. Epist. [...]06. sed Scholae discimus; We do not study for the service of our future Life, but only for the present use of the School. Whereas we are not to [...]ie Learning to the Soul, but to work and incorporate them toge­ther; not to tincture it only, but to give it a thorough and perfect dye; which, if it will [Page 205] not take colour, and meliorare its imperfect state, it were without question better to let it alone. 'Tis a dangerous weapon, and that will endanger to wound its master, if put into an aukard, and unskilful hand: Ut fuerit melius non didicisse. So that it were better never to have learn'd at all. And this peradventure is the reason, why neither we, nor indeed Christian Religion, require much Learning in Women; and that Francis Duke of Britany, Son of John the Fifth (one being talking with him about his Marriage with Isabelle the Daughter of Scotland, and adding that she was homely bred, and without any manner of Learning) made answer, That he lik'd her the better, and that a Woman was wise enough, if she could distin­guish her Husband's Shirt and his Doublet. So that it is no so great wonder, as they make of it, that our Ancestors had Letters in no grea­ter Esteem, and that even to this day, they are but rarely met with in the Privy Councils of Princes; and if this End and Design of acquiring Riches (which is the only thing we propose to our selves, by the means of Law, Physick, Pedantry, and even Divinity it self) did not uphold, and keep them in credit, you would without doubt see them as poor and unregarded as ever. And what loss would it be if they neither instruct us to think well, nor to do well? Postquam docti prodierunt, bo­ni desinunt; After once they become Learned, they cease to be good. All other knowledge is hurtful to him, who has not the Science of Honesty and good Nature. But the reason I [Page 206] glanc'd upon but now, may it not also pro­ceed from hence, that our Study, having almost no other Aim, but Profit, fewer of those, who by Nature are born to Offices and Employments, rather of Glory than Gain, addict themselves to Letters; or for so little a while (being taken from their Studies before they can come to have any taste of them, to a Prosession that has nothing to do with Books) that there ordinarily remain no other to apply themselves wholly to Learning, but People of mean Condition, who in that only study to live, and have Preferment only in their Pro­spect; and by such People, whose Souls are both by Nature, and Education, and dome­stick Example, of the basest Metal and Allay, the Fruits of Knowledge are both immaturely gathered, ill-digested, and deliver'd to their Pupils quite another thing. For it is not for Knowledge to enlighten a Soul that is dark of it self; nor to make a blind man to see. Her Business is not to find a man Eyes, but to guide, govern, and direct his steps, provided he have sound Feet, and straight Legs to go upon. Knowledge is an excellent Drug, but no Drug has virtue enough to preserve it self from Corruption and Decay, if the Vessel be tainted and impure wherein it is put to keep. Such a one may have a Sight clear and good enough, who looks a squint, and consequent­ly sees what is good, but does not follow it, and sees Knowledge, but makes no use of it. Plato's principal Institution in his Republick is to fit his Citizens with Employments suita­ble [Page 207] to their Nature. Nature can do all, and does all. Cripples are very unfit for Exercises of the Body, and lame Souls for Exercises of the Mind. Degenerate and vulgar Souls are unworthy of Philosophy. If we see a Shooe-maker with his Shooes out at the Toes, we say, 'tis no won­der; for, commonly, none go worse shod than their Wives and they. In like manner, Experience does often present us a Physician worse physick'd, a Divine worse reform'd, and frequently, a Scholar of less Sufficiency than another. Ariosto of Chios had anciently Reason to say, That Philosophers did their Auditories harm, forasmuch as most of the Souls of those that heard them were not capa­ble of making benefit of their Instructions, and if they did not apply them to good, would certainly apply them to ill: [...] ex Aristip­pi, acerbos ex Zenonis Schola exire. Cicero de Natu. Deo [...] l. 2. They pro­ceeded effeminate prodigals from the School of Aristippus, and Churls and Cynicks from that of Zeno. In that excellent Institution that Xenophon attributes to the Persians, we find, that they taught their Children Vertue, as other Nations do Letters. Plato tells us, that the eldest Son in their Royal Succession, was thus brought up; so soon as he was born he was deliver'd, not to Women, but to Eu­nuchs of the greatest Authority about their Kings for their Vertue, whose Charge it was to keep his Body healthful, and in good plight; and after he came to seven Years of Age, to teach him to ride, and to go a Hunting: when he arriv'd at fourteen he was transferr'd into [Page 208] the hands of four, the wisest, the most just, the most temperate, and most valiant of the Nation; of which, the first was to instruct him in Religion, the second to be always up­right and sincere, the third to conquer his Appetites and Desires, and the fourth to de­spise all Danger. 'Tis a thing worthy of very great Consideration, that in that excellent, and, in truth, for its Perfection, prodigious form, and civil Regiment set down by Lycur­gus, though sollicitous of the Education of Children, as a thing of the greatest Concern, and even in the very Seat of the Muses, he should make so little mention of Learning; as if their generous Youth, disdaining all other Subjection, but that of Vertue only, ought to be supply'd, instead of Tutors to read to them Arts and Sciences, with such Masters, as should only instruct them in Valour, Prudence, and Justice. An Example that Plato has followed in his Laws; the manner of whose Discipline was to propound to them Questions upon the Judgment of Men, and of their Actions; and if they commended or condemned this or that Person, or Fact, they were to give a Reason for so doing: by which means they at once sharp'ned their Understanding, and became skillful in the Laws. Mandane, in Xenophon, asking her Son Cyrus how he would do to learn Justice, and the other Vertues amongst the Medes, having left all his Masters behind him in Persia? He made Answer, That he had learn'd those things long since; that his Master had often made him a Judge of the Differences [Page 209] amongst his School-Fellows, and had one day whip'd him for giving a wrong Sentence; and thus it was. A great Boy in the School, having a little short. Cassock, by force took a longer from another that was not so tall as he, and gave him his own in exchange: whereupon, I being appointed Judge of the Controversie, gave Judgment, That I thought it best either of them should keep the Coat he had, for that they both of them were better fitted with that of one another than with their own: upon which, my Master told me, I had done ill, in that I had only consider'd the Fitness and De­cency of the Garments, whereas I ought to have consider'd the Justice of the thing, which requires that no one should have any thing forcibly taken from him that is his own. But it seems poor Cyrus was whip'd for his Pains, as we are in our Villages, for forgetting the first Aorist of [...]: my Pedant must make me a very learned Oration, in genere demonstra­tivo, before he can perswade me, that his School is like unto that. They knew how to go the readiest way to work; and seeing that Science, when most rightly apply'd, and best understood, can do no more but teach us Pru­dence, moral Honesty, and Resolution they thought fit to initiate their Children with the knowledge of Effects, and to instruct them, not by Hear-say, and by Rote, but by the Ex­periment of Action, in lively forming and moulding them; not only by Words and Pre­cepts, but chiefly Works and Examples; to the end it might not be a Knowledge of the [Page 210] Mind only, but a Complexion and a Habit: and not an Acquisition, but a natural Possessi­on. One asking to this Purpose, Agesilaus, what he thought most proper for Boys to learn? What they ought to do when they come to be Men, said he. It is therefore no won­der, if such an Institution have produc'd so admirable Effects. They us'd to go, 'tis said, in the other Cities of Greece, to enquire out Rheto­ricians, Painters, and Musick-Masters; but in La­cedaemon Legislators, Magistrates, and Generals of Armies; at Athens they learnt to speak well, and here to do well; there to disengage themselves from a sophistical Argument, and to unravel Syllogisms, here to evade the Baits and Allure­ments of Pleasure, and with a noble Courage and Resolution to confute and conquer the me­naces of Fortune and Death; those cudgell'd their Brains about Words, these made it their Business to enquire into things; there was an eternal Babble of the Tongue, here a continu­al Exercise of the Soul. And therefore it is nothing strange, if, when Antipater demanded of them fifty Children for Hostages, they made Answer, quite contrary to what we should do, That they would rather give him twice as many full grown Men, so much did they value the loss of their Country's Educati­on. When Agesilaus courted Xenophon to send his Children to Sparta to be bred, It is not, said he, there to learn Logick or Rhetorick, but to be instructed in the noblest of all Scien­ces, namely, the Science to Obey, and to Command. It is very pleasant to see Socrates, [Page 211] after his manner, rallying Hippias, who re­counts to him what a World of Money he has got, especially in certain little Villages of Sicily, by teaching School, and that he got never a Penny at Sparta. What a Sottish and stupid People (says Socrates) are they, without Sense or Understanding, that make no Account either of Grammar, or Poetry, and only busie themselves in studying the Genealogies and Successions of their Kings, the Foundations, Rises, and Declensions of States, and such Tales of a Tub! After which, having made Hippias particularly to acknowledge the Excel­lency of their Form of Publick Administration, and the Felicity and Vertue of their Private Life, he leaves him to guess at the Conclusion he makes of the Inutilities of his Pedantick Arts. Examples have Demonstrated to us, that in Military Affairs, and all others of the like Active Nature, the Study of Sciences does more soften and untemper the Courages of Men, that any way fortifie and incite them. The most Potent Empire, that at this Day ap­pears to be in the whole World, is that of the Turks, a People equally inclin'd to the Esti­mation of Arms, and the Contempt of Let­ters. I find, Rome was more Valiant before she grew so Learned; and the most Warlike Nations at this time in Being, are the most ignorant: of which, the Scythians, Parthians; and the great Tamerlane, may serve for suffici­ent Proof. When the Goths over-ran Greece, the only thing that preserved all the Libraries from the Fire, was that some one possess'd them [Page 212] with an Opinion, that they were to leave this kind of Furniture entire to the Enemy, as being most proper to divert them from the Exercise of Arms, and to fix them to a lazy and sedentary Life. When our King Charles the Eighth, almost without striking a Blow, saw himself possess'd of the Kingdom of Naples, and a considerable part of Tuscany, the Nobi­lity about him attributed this unexpected Faci­lity of Conquest to this, that the Princes and Nobles of Italy, more studied to render them­selves ingenious and learned, than vigorous and warlike.

I Never yet saw that Father, but let his Son be never so decrepid, or deform'd, would notwithstanding own him: never­theless, if he were not totally besotted, and blinded with this Paternal Affection, that he did not well enough discern his De­fects: but that all Defaults notwithstanding, he is still his. Just so do I, I see better than any other, that all I write are but the idle Whimsies of a Man that has only nibbled upon the outward Crust of Sciences in his Nonage, and only retain'd a general and formless Image of them, who have got a little snatch of every thing, and nothing of the [Page 213] whole a la mode de France: For I know in ge­neral, that there is such a thing as Physick, a knowledge in the Laws, four Parts in Ma­thematicks, and, in part, what all these aim and point at; and peradventure I yet know farther, what Sciences in general pretend unto, in order to the Services of Humane Life: but to dive farther than that, and to have cudgell'd my Brains in the study of Aristotle, the Monarch of all Modern Learning; or particularly addicted my self to any one Sci­ence, I have never done it; neither is there a­ny one Art of which I am able to draw the first Lineaments and dead colour; insomuch that there is not a Boy of the lowest Form in a School, that may not pretend to be wiser than I, who am not able to pose him in his first Lesson, which if I am at any time forc'd up­on, I am necessitated in my own defence, to ask him some Universal Questions, such as may serve to try his natural Understanding; a Lesson as strange and unknown to him, as his is to me. I never seriously settled my self to the reading any Book of solid Learning, but Plutarch and Seneca; and there, like the Danaides, I eternally fill, and it as constantly runs out; something of which drops upon this Paper, but very little or nothing stays behind. History is my delight, as to matter of Reading, or else Poetry, for which I have I confess, a particular kindness and esteem: for, as Cleanthes said, as the Voice, forc'd through the narrow passage of a Trumpet, comes out more forcible and shrill; so, me­thinks, [Page 214] a Sentence couch'd in the Harmony of Verse, darts more briskly upon the under­standing, and strikes both my Ear and Appre­hension with a smarter, and more pleasing Power. As to the Natural Parts I have, of which this is the Essay, I find them to how under the burthen; my Fancy and Judgment do but grope in the dark, trip and stumble in their way, and when I have gone as far as I can, I discover still a new and greater extent of Land before me, but with a trou­bled and imperfect sight, and wrapt up in Clouds, that I am not able to penetrate. And taking upon me to write indifferently of whatever comes into my Head, and therein making use of nothing but my own proper and natural Force and Ammunition, if it be­fell me, as oft-times it does, accidentally to meet in any good Author, the same Heads and Common-places upon which I have at­tempted to write, (as I did but a little before in Plutarch's Discourse of the Force of Imagina­tion) to see myself so weak and so forlorn, so heavy, and so flat, in comparis on of those better Writers, I at once pity and despise my self. Yet do I flatter, and please my self with this, that my Opinions have often the honour and good fortune to jump with theirs, and that I follow in the same Path, though at a very great distance; I am farther satisfied to find, that I have a Quality, which every one is not blest withall, which is, to discern the vast difference betwixt them and me; and notwithstanding all that, suffer my own In­ventions, [Page 215] low, and contemptible as they are, to run on in their Career, without mending or plastering up the Defects that this Compari­son has laid open to my own View; and in plain Truth, a Man had need of a good strong Back to keep Pace with these People. The indiscreet Scriblers of our Times, who amongst their laborious Nothings, insert whole Sections, Paragraphs, and Pages, out of Ancient Authors, with a Design by that means to illustrate their own Writings, do quite contrary; for this infinite Dissimilitude of Ornaments renders the Complexions of their own Compositions, so pale, sallow and deform'd, that they lose much more than they get. The Philosophers, Chrysippus and Epicurus, were, in this, of too quite contrary Humours; for the first did not only in his Books mix the Passages and Sayings of other Authors, but entire Pieces, and in one the whole Medea of Euripides; which gave Apollo­dorus occasion to say, That should a Man pick out of his Writings all that was none of his, he would leave him nothing but blank Paper: whereas the latter, quite contrary, in three hundred Volumes that he left behind him, has not so much as any one Quotation. I hap­ned the other day upon this Piece of Fortune; I was reading a French Book, where after I had a long time run dreaming over a great many Words, so dull, so insipid, so void of all Wit, or common Sence, that indeed they were only words; after a long and tedious travel, I came at last to meet with a piece [Page 216] that was lofty, rich, and elevated to the ve­ry Clouds: of which, had I found either the Declivity easie, or the Ascent accessible, there had been some excuse; but it was so perpendicular a Precipice, and so wholly cut off from the rest of the Work, that by the six first words I found my self flying into the other World, and from thence discover'd the Vale from whence I came so deep and low, that I had never since the Heart to descend into it any more. If I should set out my Dis­courses with such rich Spoils as these, the Plagiary would be too manifest in his own Defects, and I should too much discover the imperfection of my own Writing. To re­prehend the fault in others, that I am guilty of my self, appears to me no more unreasonable, than to condemn, as I often do, those of o­thers in my self. They are to be every where reprov'd, and ought to have no Sanctu­ary allow'd them. I know very well how im­prudently I my self at every turn attempt to equal my self to my thefts, and to make my style go hand in hand with them, not without a temerarious hope of deceiving the eyes of my Reader from discerning the diffe­rence; but withal, it is as much by the be­nefit of my Application, that I hope to do it, as by that of my Invention, or any Force of my own. Besides, I do not offer to contend with the whole Body of these Champions, nor hand to hand with any one of them, 'tis only by slights and little light attempts that I engage them; I do not grapple with them, but [Page 217] try their strength only, and never engage so far as I make a shew to do; and if I could hold them in play, I were a brave Fellow; for I never attaque them, but where they are most sinewy and strong. To cover a man's self (as I have seen some do) with another man's Arms, so as not to discover so much as their fingers ends; to carry on a Design (as it is not hard for a Man that has any thing of a Scholar in him, in an ordinary Subject to do) under old Inventions, patcht up here and there with his own Trumpery: and then to endeavour to conceal the theft, and to make it pass for his own, is first injustice, and meanness of Spirit in whoever do it, who having nothing in them of their own fit to procure them a Reputation, endeavour to do it by attempting to impose things upon the World in their own Name, which they have really no manner of title to; and then a ridicu­lous Folly to content themselves with acqui­ring the ignorant approbation of the Vulgar by such a pitiful Cheat, at the Price at the same time of discovering their insufficiency to men of Understanding, who will soon smell out and trace them in those borrow'd Allegories, and from whom alone they are to expect a legitimate Applause. For my own part, there is nothing I would not soon­er do than that, neither have I said so much of others, but to get a better Opportunity to excuse my self: neither in this do I in the least glance at the Composers of Cento's, who declare themselves for such; of which [Page 218] sort of Writers, I have in my time known many very ingenious, and have their Rhap­sodies in very great Esteem, and particularly one, under the Name of Capilulus, besides the Ancients. These are really Men of Wit, and that make it appear they are so, both by that and other ways of Writing; as for Ex­ample, Lipsius, in that learned and laborious Contexture of his Politicks. But, be it how it will, and how inconsiderable soever these Essays of mine may be, I will ingeniously confess, I never intended to conceal them, no more than my old bald grizled Picture before them, where the graver has not presented you with a perfect Face, but the Resemblance of mine. And these also are but my own parti­cular. Opinions and Fancies, and I deliver them for no other, but only, what I my self believe, and not for what is really to be be­liev'd. Neither have I any other end in this Writing, but only to discover my self, who also shall peradventure be another thing to­morrow, if I chance to meet any Book, or Friend, to convince me in the mean time. I have no Authority to be believ'd, neither do I desire it being too conscious of my own ineru­dition to be able to instruct others.

A Friend of mine then having read the pre­cedent Chapter, the other day told me, that I should a little longer have insisted upon the Education of Children; and farther have ex­tended my Discourse upon so necessary a point: which, how fit I am to do, let my Friends slatter me if they please, I have in the mean [Page 219] time no such Opinion of my own Talent, as to promise my self any very good success from my endeavour; but (Madam) if I had any sufficiency in this Subject, I could not possibly better employ it, than to present my best In­structions to the little Gentleman that threat­ens you shortly with a happy Birth; (for you are too generous to begin otherwise than with a male) for having had so great a hand in the treaty of your Marriage, I have a certain par­ticular right and interest in the greatness and prosperity of the Issue that shall spring from it; besides that, you having had the best of my Services so long in possession, does suffici­ently oblige me to desire the Honour and Ad­vantage of all wherein you shall be concerned. But, in truth, all I understand as to that par­ticular is only this, that the greatest and most important difficulty of Humane Science is the Education of Children. For as in Agriculture, the Husbandry that is to precede planting, as also Planting it self, is certain, plain, easie, and very well known; but after that which is planted comes to take root, to spread, and shoot up, there is a great deal more to be done, more Art to be us [...]d, more care to be taken, and much more difficulty to cultivate and bring them to Perfection: so it is with Men; it is no hard matter to get Children; but after they are born, then begins the Trouble, Solli­citude, and Care, vertuously to train, princi­ple, and bring them up. The Symptoms of their Inclinations in that young and tender Age are so obscure, and the Promises so uncer­tain [Page 220] and fallacious, that it is very hard to establish any solid Judgment or Conjecture upon them. As Simon, for Example, and The­mistocles, and a thousand others, who have very much deceiv'd the little Expectation the World had of them: Cubs of Bears, and Bitches Puppies, do truly and indeed discover their natural Inclination; but Men, so soon as ever grown up, immediately applying them­selves to certain Habits, engaging them­selves in certain Opinions, and conforming themselves to particular Laws and Customs, do easily alter, or at least disguise their true and real Disposition. And yet it is hard to force the Propension of Nature; whence it comes to pass, that for not having chosen the right Course, a Man often takes very great Pains, and consumes good part of his Age in training up Children to things, for which, by their natural Aversion, they are totally unfit. In this Difficulty, nevertheless, I am clearly of Opinion, that they ought to be elemented in the best and most advantageous Studies, without taking too much notice of, or being too superstitious in those light Prognosticks they give of themselves in their tender Years; to which Plato, in his Republick, gives, me­thinks, too much Authority. But ( Madam) Science is doubtless a very great Ornament, and a thing of marvellous use, especially in Persons rais'd to that degree of Fortune you are; and in truth, in Persons of mean and low Condition, cannot perform its true and genuine Office, being naturally more prompt [Page 221] to assist in the Conduct of War, in the Govern­ment of Armies and Provinces, and in negoti­ating the Leagues and Friendships of Princes and foreign Nations, than in forming a Syllo­gism in Logick, in pleading a Process in Law, or in prescribing a Dose of Pills in Physick. Wherefore, Madam, believing you will not omit this so necessary Embellishment in the E­ducation of your Posterity, who your self have tasted the Fruits of it, and are of a Learned extra­ction (for we yet have the Writings of the ancient Counts of Foix, from whom my Lord, your Husband and your self are both of you descended, and Monsieur de Candale, your Un­cle, does every day oblige the World with others, which will extend the knowledge of this Quality in your Family so many succeeding Ages) I will upon this occasion presume to ac­quaint your Ladiship with one particular Fancy of my own, contrary to the common Method, which also is all I am able to contribute to your Service in this Affair. The charge of the Tutor or Governour you shall provide for your Son, upon the choice of whom depends the whole Success of his Education, has several other great and considerable Parts and Duties requir'd in so important a Trust, besides that of which I am about to speak, which however I shall not mention, as being unable to add any thing of moment to the common Rules, that eve­ry one who is qualified for a Governour is per­fect in: and also in this wherein I take upon me to advise, he may follow it so far only as it shall appear rational and conducing to the end at which he does aim and intend.

[Page 222] For a Boy of Quality then, who pretend [...] to Letters not upon the account of Profit, (for so mean an Object as that is unworthy of the grace and favour of the Muses; and moreover, in that a man directs his Service to and professes to depend upon others) nor so much for outward ornament, as for his own proper and peculiar use, and to furnish and enrich himself within, having rather a Desire to go out an accomplish'd Cavalier, and a fine Gentleman, than a mere Scholar, and a Learned Man; for such a one, I say, I would also have his Friends sollicitous to find him out a Tutor, who has rather an Elegant than a Learned Head, and both, if such a Person can be found; but however, to prefer his Manners and his Judgment before his Read­ing, and that this Man should pursue the Exer­cise of his Charge after a new method. 'Tis the Custom of School-masters, to be eternally thundring in their Pupils Ears, as they were pouring into a Funnel, whilst their Business is only to repeat what the other have said be­fore: Now I would have a Tutor to correct this Error, and that at the very first, he should according to the Capacity he has to deal with, put it to the Test, permitting his Pupil himself to taste and relish things, and of himself to choose and discern them sometimes opening the way to him, and sometimes ma­king him to break the Ice himself; that is, I would not have him alone to invent and speak, but that he should also hear his Pupil speak in turn. Socrates, and since him Arc [...]st­laus, [Page 223] made first their Scholars speak, Cic. de. Nat. Deor. l. 1. and then they spoke to them. Obest plerumque iis qui discere volunt, authoritas eorum qui docent; The Authority of those who teach, is very oft an impediment to those who desire to learn. It is good to make him, like a young Horse, trot before him that he may judge of his go­ing and how much he is to abate of his own Speed, to accommodate himself to the Vigour and Capacity of the other. For want of which due proportion, we spoil all; which also to know how to adjust, and to keep within an exact and due measure is one of the hardest things I know, and an effect of a judicious and well-temper'd Soul, to know how to condescend to his Puerile Motions, and to govern and direct them. I walk firmer, and more secure up hill than down, and such as according to our common way of Teaching undertake, with one and the same Lesson and the same measure of direction, to instruct several Boys of so dif­fering and unequal Capacities, are infinitely mistaken in their Method; and at this rate, 'tis no wonder, if in a multitude of Scholars, there are not found above two or three who bring away any good account of their Time and Discipline. Let the Master not only ex­amine him about the Grammatical Constructi­on of the bare words of his Lesson, but of the sence and meaning of them, and let him judge of the Profit he has made, not by the testimony of his Memory, but by that of his Understand. Let him make him put what he hath learn'd into an hundred several Forms, [Page 224] and accommodate it to so many several Sub­jects, to see if he yet rightly comprehend it, and have made it his own, taking instruction by his progress from the Institutions of Plat [...] 'Tis a sign of Crudity and Indigestion to vo­mit up what we eat in the same condition it was swallowed down, and the Stomach has not perform'd its office, unless it have altered the form and condition of what was commit­ted to it to concoct: so our minds work only upon trust, being bound and compell'd to follow the Appetite of anothers Fancy, enslav'd and captivated under the Authority of another's Instruction, we have been so subjected to the Tramel, that we have no free, nor natural Pace of our own, our own Vigor and Liber­ty is extinct and gone. Nunquam tutelae suae fiunt; Sen. Ep. 33. They are ever in Wardship, and never left to their own Tuition. I was privately at Pisa carried to see a very honest man; but so great an Aristotelian, that his most usual The­sis was, That the Touch-stone and Square of all solid, Imagination, and of the Truth, was an absolute conformity to Aristotle's Doctrine; and that all besides was nothing but Inanity and Chi­maera; for that he had seen all, and said all. A Po­sition, that for having been a little too injuri­ously, and malitiously interpreted, brought him first into, and afterwards long kept him in great trouble in the Inquisition at Rome. Let him make him examine, and thoroughly sift every thing he reads, and lodge nothing in his Fancy upon simple Authority, and up­on trust. Aristotle's Principles will then be [Page 225] no more Principles to him, than those of Epicurus and the Stoicks: only let this Di­versity of Opinions be propounded to, and laid before him, he will himself choose, if he be able; if not he will remain in doubt.

For if he embrace the Opinions of Xenophon and Plato, by maintaining them, they will no more be theirs, but become his own. Who follows another, follows nothing, finds no­thing, nay is inquisitive after nothing. Non sumus sub Rege, sibi quisque se vindicet; Let him at least know, that he knows. It will be necessary that he imbibe their knowledge, not that he be corrupted with their Precepts; and no matter if he forget where he had his Learning, provided he know how to apply it to his own Use; Truth and Reason are com­mon to every one, and are no more his who spake them first, than his who speaks them after. 'Tis no more according to Plato, than according to me, since both he and I equally see and understand them. Bees cull their several Sweets from this Flower, and that Blos­som, here and there where they find them, but themselves after make the Honey, which is all, and purely their own, and no more Time and Marjoram: so the several Fragments he borrows from others, he will transform and suffle together to compile a Work that shall be absolutely his own; that is to say, his Judg­ment, [Page 226] his Instruction, Labour, and Study, tend to nothing else but to incline, and make him capable so to do. He is not oblig'd to discover whence he had his Ammunition, but only to produce what he has himself compos'd. Men that live upon Rapine, and borrowing, expose their Purchases and Buildings to every ones knowledge and view: but do not pro­claim how they came by the Money. We do not see the Fees, and Perquisites belonging to the Function and Offices of a Gentleman of the long Robe; but we see the Noble Alliances wherewith he fortifies himself and his Family, and the Titles and Honours he has obtain'd for him and his. No man divulges his Reve­nue; or at least which way it comes in: but every one publishes his Purchases, and is con­tent the World should know his good Condi­tion. The Advantages of our Study are to become better and more wise. 'Tis (says Epicharmus) the Understanding that sees and hears, 'tis the Understanding that improves every thing, that orders every thing, and that acts, rules, and reigns: all other Facul­ties are blind, and deaf, and without Soul; and certainly, we render it timorous and ser­vile, in not allowing it the Liberty and P [...]vi­lege to do any thing of it self. Who ever ask'd his Pupil what he thought of Grammar and Rhetorick, or of such and such a Sentence of Cicero? Our Masters dart and stick them full feather'd in our Memories, and there esta­blish them like Oracles, of which the very Let­ters and Syllables are of the substance of the [Page 227] thing. To know by rote, is no Knowledge, and signifies no more but only to retain what one has instrusted to his Memory. That which a man rightly knows and understands, he is the free Disposer of at his own full Liberty, without any regard to the Author from whence he had it, or fumbling over the Leaves of his Book. A mere Bookish Learning is both troublesome and ungraceful; and though it may serve for some kind of Ornament, What true Philoso­phy is, ac­cording to Plato. there is yet no Foundation for any Superstructure to be built upon it, according to the Opinion of Plato, who says, that Constancy, Faith, and Sincerity, are the true Philosophy, and the other Sciences, that are directed to other ends, to be adulterate and false. I could wish, that P [...]lu [...]l or Pompey, the two famous Dan­cing Masters of my Time, could have taught us to cut Capers, by only seeing them do it, without stirring from our Places, as these men pretend to inform the Understanding, with­out ever setting them to work; or that we could learn to Ride, handle a Pike, touch a Lute, or Sing, without the trouble of Practice, as these attempt to make us Judge, and Speak well, without exercising us in Judging and Speaking. Now in this Initiation of our Stu­dies, and in the Progress of them, whatsoever presents it self before us is Book sufficient: a Roguy Trick of a Page, a sottish Mistake of a Servant, or a Jest at the Table, are so many new Subjects. And for this very Reason, Conversation with men is of very great use, and Travel into Foreign Countries of singular [Page 228] Advantage; not to bring back (as most of our young Monsieurs do) an account only of how many Paces Santa Rotonda is in Circuit; or of the Richness of Signiora Livia's Attire; or, as some others, how much Nero's Face, in a Statue in such an old Ruine, is longer and broader than that made for him at such ano­ther Place: but to be able chiefly to give an Account of the Humours, Manners, Customs, and Laws of those Nations where he has been. And, that we may whet and sharpen our Wits by rubbing them upon those of others. I would that a Boy should be sent abroad very young (and principally to kill two Birds with one Stone) into those neighb'ring Nations whose Language is most differing from our own, and to which, if it be not form'd be­times, the Tongue will be grown too stiff to bend. And also 'tis the general Opinion of all, that a Child should not be brought up in his Mother's Lap. Mothers are too tender, and their natural Affection is apt to make the most discreet of them all so over-fond, that they can neither find in their Hearts to give them due Correction for the Faults they com­mit, nor suffer them to be brought up in those Hardsh'ps and Hazards they ought to be. They would not endure to see them return all Dust and Sweat from their Exercise, Fondness of Mothers pernicious to Educa­tion. to drink cold Drink when they are hot, nor see them mount'an un [...]uly Horse, nor take a Foil in hand against a rude Fencer, or so much as to discharge a Carbine. and yet there is no Remedy; who­ever will breed a Boy to be good for any thing [Page 229] when he comes to be a Man, must by no means spare him, even when so young, and must very often transgress the Rules of Physick:

In is not enough to fortifie his Soul, you are also to make his Sinews strong; for the Soul will be opprest, if not assisted by the Mem­bers, and would have too hard a Task to discharge two Offices alone. I know very well, to my Cost, how much mine groans un­der the Burthen, for being accommodated with a Body so tender and indisposed, as eter­nally leans and presses upon her; and often in my Reading perceive, that our Masters, in their Writings, make Examples pass for Mag­nanimity and Fortitude of Mind, which real­ly is rather Toughness of Skin and Hardness of Bones; for I have seen Men, Women, and Children, naturally born of so hard and in­sensible a Constitution of Body, that a sound cudgelling has been less to them, than a Flirt with a Finger would have been to me, and that would neither cry out, wince, nor quitch for a good swinging Beating; and when Wrestlers, counterfeit the Philosophers in patience, 'tis rather Strength of Nerves than Stoutness of Heart. Now to be inur'd to un­dergo Labour, is to be accustomed to endure Grief. Cicero Tase. l. 2. Labor callum obducit dolori: Labour [Page 230] supplies Grief with a certain Callus, that defen [...] it from the Blow. A Boy is to be inur [...]d to the Toil and Vehemency of Exercise, to train him up to the Pain, and suffering of Dislocations, Cholicks, Cauteries, and even Imprisonment, and the Rack it self, for he may come, by Misfortune, to be reduc'd to the worst of these which (as this World goes) is sometimes in­flicted on the Good, as well as the Bad. As for Proof, in our present Civil war, whoever draws his Sword against the Laws, threatens all honest Men with the Whip and the Halter. And moreover, by living at home, the Au­thority of this Governour, which ought to be sovereign over the Boy he has receiv'd into his charge, is often check'd, interrupted; and hindred by the Presence of Parents; to which may also be added, that the Respect the whole Family pay him, as their Master's Son, and the Knowledge he has of the Estate and Great­ness he is Heir to, are in my Opinion, no small Inconveniences in these tender Years. And yet even in this conversing with Men I spoke of but now, I have observ'd this Vice, That instead of gathering Observations from others, we make it our whole Business to lay our selves open to them, and are more con­cern'd how to expose and set out our own Com­modities, than how to increase our Stock by acquiring new. Silence therefore, and Mode­sty, are very advantageous. Qualities in Con­versation: and one should therefore train up this Boy to be sparing, [...] good Husband of his Talent of Understanding, when once [Page 231] acquir'd; and to forbear taking Exceptions, at, or reproving every idle Saying, or ridiculous Story, is spoke or told in his Presence; for it is a Rudeness to controvert every thing that is not agreeable to our own Palate. Let him be satisfied with correcting himself, and not seem to condemn every thing in another he would not do himself, nor dispute against common Customs. Let him be wise without Arrogancy, without Envy. Let him avoid these vain and uncivil Images of Authority, this childish Ambition of Coveting to appear better bred, and more accomplish'd, than he really will by such Carriage discover himself to be, and, as if Opportunities of interrupting and reprehending were not to be omitted, to desire from thence to derive the Reputation of some­thing more than ordinary: for, as it becomes none but great Poets to make use of the Poeti­cal Licence, allow'd only to those of celebrate Art; it is also intolerable, that any but Men of great and illustrious Souls should be privileg'd above the Authority of Custom; Si quid Socra­tes, Cic. de Offic. l. 1. & Aristippus contra morem, & consuetudinem fecerunt, idem sibi ne arbitratur licere: magis enim illi, & divinis bonis hanc licentiam assequebantur, If Socrates and Aristippus have transgress'd the Rules of Custom, let him not imagine that he is licens'd to do the same; for it was by great and sovereign Vertues that they obtain'd this Privilege. Let him be instructed not to engage in Discourse, or dispute but with a Champion worthy of him, and even there not to make use of all the little Fallacies and Subtleties that are [Page 232] pat for his Purpose; but only such as may best serve him upon that Occasion. Let him be taught to be curious in the Election and Choice of his Reasons, to abominate Imperti­nence, and consequently, to affect Brevity; but above all, let him be lesson'd to acquiesce and submit to Truth so soon as ever he shall discover it, whether in his Opponent's Ar­gument, or upon better Consideration of his own; for he shall never be preferr'd to the Chair for a mere clatter of Words and Syllogisms, and is no further engag'd to any Argument whatever, than as he shall in his own Judgment approve it: nor yet is Arguing a Trade, where the liberty of Recantation, and getting off upon better Thoughts, Cic. Acad. l. 4. are to be sold for ready Money. Neque ut omnia, quae prae­scripta & imperata sint, defendat, necessitate ulla cogitur: Neither is there any Necessity or Obligation upon him at all, that he should defend all things that are recommended to and enjoyn'd him. If his Governour be of my Humour, he will form his Will to be a very good and Loyal Subject to his Prince, very affectionate to his Person, and very stout in his Quarrel; but withall, he will cool in him the desire of having any other tye to his Service, than merely a Publick Duty; because, besides several other Incon­veniences, that are very inconsistent with the honest Liberty every honest man ought to have, a man's Judgment being brib'd and pre­possess'd by these particular Obligations and Favours, is either blinded, and less free to [Page 233] exercise its Function, Depen­dance up­on Prin­ces. or shall be blemish'd ei­ther with Ingratitude or Indiscretion. A man that is purely a Courtier, can neither have Power non Wit to speak or think otherwise than favourably and well of a Master, who, amongst so many millions of other Subjects has pick'd out him with his own hand to nourish and advance. This Favour, and the Profit flowing from it, must needs, and not without some shew of Reason, corrupt his understand­ing and deprive him of the freedom of spea­king: and also we commonly see these People speak in another kind of Phrase than is ordi­narily spoken by others of the same Nation, though what they say in that Courtly Lan­guage, is not much to be believ'd in such Ca­ses. Let his Conscience and Vertue be emi­nently manifest in his speaking, and have on­ly Reason for their guide. Make him under­stand, that to acknowledge the Errour he shall discover in his own Argument, though only found out by himself, is an Effect of Judgment and Sincerity, which are the prin­cipal things he is to seek after. That Obsti­nacy and contention are common qualities, most appearing in, and best becoming, a mean and illiterate Soul. That to recollect, and to correct himself, and to forsake an unjust Ar­gument in the height and heat of Dispute, are great, and philosophical Qualities. Let him be advis'd, being in Company, to have his Eye and Ear in every corner of the Room; for I find that the Places of greatest Honour are commonly possest by Men that have least in [Page 234] them, and that the greatest Fortunes are not always accompanied with the ablest Parts. I have been present, when, whilst they at the upper end of the Chamber have been only com­mending the Beauty of the Arras, or the Fla­vour of the Wine, many things that have been very finely said, have been lost and thrown away at the lower end of the Table. Let him examine every Mans Talent, a Peasant, a Bricklayer, or a Passenger; a Man may learn something from every one of these in their several Capacities, and something will be pick'd out of their Discourse, whereof some use may be made at one time or another; nay even the Folly and Impertinence of others will contribute to his Instruction. Observati­on. By observing the Graces and Fashions of all he sees, he will create to himself an Emulation of the good, and a contempt of the bad. Let an honest curiosity be suggested to his Fancy of being inquisitive after every thing, and whatever there is of singular and rare near the Place where he shall reside, let him go and see it; a fine House, a delicate Fountain, an eminent Man, the Place where a Battel has been anci­ently fought, and the passages of Caesar and Charlemain.

[Page 235] Let him enquire into the Manners, Reve­nues, and Alliances of Princes, things in them­selves very pleasant to learn, and very useful to know. In this Conversing with Men, I mean, and principally those who only live in the Records of History, he shall by reading those Books, Reading History. converse with those great and heroick Souls of former and better Ages. 'Tis an idle and vain Study I confess, to those who make it so, by doing it after a negligent man­ner, but to those who do it with care and Observation, 'tis a study of inestimable Fruit and value; and the only one, as Plato reports, the Lacedaemonians. reserv'd to themselves. What profit shall he not reap as to the Business of Men, by reading the Lives of Plutarch? But withall, let my Governour remember to what end his Instructions are principally di­rected, and that he do not so much imprint in his Pupils Memory, the date of the Ruine of Carthage, as the manners of Hannibal and Sci­pio; nor so much where Marcellus dy'd, as why it was unworthy of his Duty that he di'd there. That he do not teach him so much the Narrative part, as the Business of History. The reading of which, in my Opinion, is a thing that of all others we apply our selves unto with the most differing, and uncertain Mea­sures. I have read an hundred things in Livy that another has not, or not taken notice of at least, and Plutarch has read an hundred more there than ever I could find, or than perad­venture that. Author ever Writ. To some it is meerly a Grammar Study, to others the ve­ry [Page 236] Anatomy of Philosophy, by which the most secret, and abstruse parts of our humane Na­ture are penetrated into. There are in Plu­tarch many long Elegy of Plutarch. Discourses very worthy to be carefully read and observ'd, for he is, in my Opinion, of all other, the greatest Master in that kind of Writing; but withall, there are a thou­sand others which he has only touch'd, and glanc'd upon, where he only points with his Finger to direct us which way we may go if we will, and contents himself sometimes with giving only one brisk hit in the nicest Article of the Question; from whence we are to grope out the rest: as for Example, where he says, That the Inhabitants of Asia came to be Vassals to one only, for not having been able to pronounce one Syllable, which is, No. Which Saying of his, gave perhaps matter and occasion to Boetius to write his Voluntary Ser­vitude. Even this but to see him pick out a light Action in a man's Life, or a Word, that does not seem to be of any such Impor­tance, is it self a whole Discourse. 'Tis to our Prejudice that men of Understanding should so immoderately affect Brevity; no doubt but their Reputation is the better by its but in the mean time we are the worse. Plutarch had rather we should applaud his Judgment, than commend his Knowledge, and had ra­ther leave us with an Appetite to read more, than glutted with that we have already read. He knew very well, that a Man may say too much even upon the best Subjects, and that Alexandrides did justly reproach him who [Page 237] made very elegant, but two long Speeches to the, Ephori, when he said. O Stranger! that speakest the things thou oughtest to speak; but not after the manner that thou [...] should'st speak them. Such as have lean and spare Bodies stuff themselves out with Cloaths; so they who are defective in Matter, endeavour to make amends with Words. Humane understanding is mar­vellously enlightned by daily Conversation with men, for we are otherwise of our selves so stupid as to have our Sight limited to the length of our own Noses. One asking Socra­tes of what Country he was, he did not make Answer of Athens, but of the World; he whose Imagination is better levell'd, could carry further, embrac'd the whole World for his Country, and extended his society and Friendship to all Mankind; not as we do, who look no further' than our Feet. When the Vines of our Village are nip'd with the Frost, the Parish Priest presently concludes, that the indignation of God is gone out against all Humane Race, and that the Cannihals have already got the Pip. Who is it, that seeing the bloudy Havock of these Civil Wars of ours, does not cry out, That the machine of the World is near Dissolution, and that the Day of Judgment is at hand; without consi­dering, that many worse Revolutions have been seen, and that, in the mean time, People are very merry in a thousand other Parts of the Earth for all this? For my Part, consider­ing, the License and Impunity that always attend such Commotions, I admire they are so [Page 238] moderate, and that there is more Mischief done. To him that feels the Hail-stones p [...]ter about his Ears, the whole Hermisphear o [...] ­pears to be in Storm and Tempest; like the ridiculous Saveyard, who said very gravely. That if that simple King of France could have marrag'd his Fortune as he should have done, he might in time have come to have been Ste­ward of the Houshold to the Duke his Master: the Follow could not, in his shallow Imagina­tion, conceive that there could be any thing greater than a Duke of Savoy. And in truth we are all of us insensibly in this Error, an Er­ror of a very great Train, and very pernicion [...] Consequence. But whoever shall represent to his Fancy, as in a Picture, that great Image of our Mother Nature, pourtrayed in her full Majesty and Lustre, whoever in her Face shall read so general and so constant a Variety, whoever shall observe himself in that Figure, and not himself but a whole Kingdom, no big­ger than the least Touch or Prick of a Pendl in comparison of the whole, that man alone is able to value things according to their true Estimate and Grandeur. This great World which some do yet multiply as several Species under one Genus, is the Mirror wherein we are to behold our selves, to be able to know our selves as we ought to do. In short, I would have this to be the Book my young Gen­tleman should study with the most Attention; for so many Humours, so many Sects, so many Judgments, Opinions, Laws, and Customs, teach us to judge a right of our own, and inform [Page 239] our Understandings to discover their Imper­fection and natural Infirnity, which is no trivial Speculation. So many Mutations of States and Kingdoms, and so many Turns and Revolutions of publick Fortune, will make us wise enough to make no great wonder of our own. So many great Names, so many famous Victories and Conquests drown'd and swal­low'd in Oblivion, render our Hopes ridicu­lous of eternizing our Names by the taking of half a score light Horse, or a paltry Turret, which only derives its Memory from its Ruine. The Pride and Arrogancy of so many foreign Pomps and Ceremonies, the tumorous Majesty of so many Courts and Grandeurs, accustom and fortifie our Sight without Astonishment to behold and endure the lustre of our own. So many millions of men buried before us, encou­rage us not to fear to go seek so good Company in the other World: and so of all the rest. Pythagoras was wont to say, That our Life retires to the great and Populous Assembly of the Olympick Games, wherein some exercise the Body, that they may carry away the Glory of the Prize in those Contentions, and others carry Merchandise to sell for profit. There are also some (and those none of the worst sort) who pursue no other Advantage than only to look on, and consider how, and why every thing is done, and to be unactive Spectators of the Lives of other men, thereby the better to judge of, and to regulate their own; and in­deed, from Examples, all the Instruction cou [...]'d in Philosophical Discourses; may natu­rally [Page 240] flow, to which all humane Actions, as to their best Rule, ought to be especially di­rected: where a Man shall be taught to know.

What it is to know, and what to be igno­rant, what ought to be the End and Design of Study, what Valour, Temperance, and Justice are, the difference betwixt Ambition and Avarice, Servitude and Subjection, Li­cence and Liberty, by what token a Man may know the true and solid Contentation, how far Death, Affliction, and Disgrace, are to be apprehended. ‘ [...]. Aen. l. 6.Et quo quemque modo fugiat (que) feratque laborem.’

By what secret Springs we move, and the Reason of our various Agitations and Irreso­lutions: for methinks the first Doctrine with which one should season his Understanding, [Page 241] ought to be that which regulates his Manners and his Sense; that teaches him to know him­self, and how both well to die, and well to live. Amongst the Liberal Sciences, let us begin with that that makes us free; not that they do not all serve in some measure to the Instruction and Use of Life, as all other things in some sort also do; but let us make choice of that which directly and profess'dly serves to that end. If we are once able to restrain the Offices of Humane Life within their just and natural Limits, we shall find that most of the Sciences in use are of no great use to us, and even in those that are, that there are many very unnecessary. Cavities and Dilatati­ons which we were better to let alone, and following Socrates his Direction, limit the Course of our Studies to those things only where a true and real Utility and Advantage are to be expected and found.

'Tis a great foolery to teach our Children

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

Anaximenes writing to Pythagoras, To what purpose, said he, should I trouble my self in searching out the Secrets of the Stars having Death or Slavery continually before my Eyes? For the Kings of Persia were at that time pre­paring to invade his Country. Every one ought to say the same, Being assaulted, as I am by Ambition, Avarice, Temerity, and Superstiti­on, and having within so many other Enemies of Life, shall I go cudgel my Brains about the World's Revolutions? After having taught him what will make him more wise and good, you may then entertain him with the Elements of Logick, Physick, Geometry, and Rhetorick, and the Science which he shall then himself most incline to, his Judgment being before-hand [Page 243] form'd and fit to choose, he will quickly make his own. The Way of instructing him ought to be sometimes by Discourse, and sometimes by reading, sometimes his Gover­nor shall put the Author himself, which he shall think most proper for him, into his Hands, and sometimes only the Marrow and Substance of it; and if himself be not conver­sant enough in Books to turn to all the fine Discourses the Book contains, there may some Man of Learning be joyn'd to him, that upon every occasion shall supply him with what he desires, and stands in need of, to recommend to his Pupil. And who can doubt, but that this way of teaching is much more easie and natural, than that of Gaza? In which thy pre­cepts are so intricate, and so hash, and the Words so vain, lean, and insignificant, that there is no hold to be taken of them, nothing that quickens and elevates the Wit and Fancy, whereas here the Mind has what to feed upon and to digest: this Fruit therefore is not only without comparison, much more fair and beau­tiful; but will also be much more early, and ripe. 'Tis a thousand pities, that Masters should be at such a pass in this Age of ours, that Philosophy, even with Men of Under­standing, should be look'd upon as a vain, and fantastick Name, a thing of no use, no value, either in Opinion or Effect, of which I think these lowsie Ergotisms, and little So­phistry, by prepossessing the Avenues unto it, are the cause. And People are much to blame to represent it to Children for a thing of so [Page 244] difficult access, and with such a frowning, grim, and formidable aspect: who has dis­guis'd it thus, with this false, pale, and ghost­ly Countenance? There is nothing more airy, more gay, more frolick, and I had like to have said, more wanton. She preaches nothing but Feasting and Jollity; a melancholick thoughtful look shews that she does not inha­bit there. Demetrius the Grammarian finding in the Temple of Delphos a Knot of Philoso­phers set chatting together, said to them, Ei­ther I am much deceiv'd, or by your cheerful and pleasant Countenances, you are engag'd in no very deep Discourse. To which one of them, Hera­cleon the Magician, reply'd, 'Tis for such as are puzzled about enquiring whether the fu­ture Tense of the Verb [...], be spelt with a double [...] or that hunt after the Derivation of the Comparatives [...], and the Superlatives [...], to knit their Brows whilst discoursing of their Science: but as to Philosophical Discourses, they al­ways divert and cheer up those they entertain, and never deject them or make them sad.

[Page 245] The Soul that entertains Philosophy, ought to be of such a Constitution of Health, as to render the Body in like manner health­full too; she ought to make her Tranquillity and Satisfaction shine so as to appear without, and her Contentment ought to fashion the outward Behaviour to her own Mould, and consequently to fortifie it with a graceful Confidence, an active Carriage, and with a serene and contented Countenance. Cheerful­ness a sign of Wis­dom. The most manifest sign of Wisdom is a continual Chear­fulness; her Estate is like that of things in the Regions above the Moon, always clear and serene. 'Tis Baraco and Baralipton that ren­der their Disciples so dirty and ill favour'd, and not she; they do not so much as know her but by Hear-say. It is she that calms and appeases the Storms and Tempests of the Soul, and who teaches Famine and Fevers to laugh and sing; and that, not by certain ima­ginary Epicycles, but by natural and manifest Reasons. She has Vertue for her end; which is not, as the School-men say, situate upon the summity of a perpendicular Rock, and an inaccessible Precipice. Such as have ap­proach'd her, find it quite contrary, to be seated in a fair, fruitful, and flourishing Plain, from whence she easily discovers all things subjected to her; to which Place any one may however arrive, if he know but the easiest and the nearest way, thorough shady, green, and sweetly flourishing Walks and Avenues, by a pleasant, easie, and smooth Descent, like that of the Coelestial Arches. 'Tis for not having [Page 246] frequented this supreme, this beautiful, trium­phant, and amiable, this equally delicious and courageous Vertue, this so profess'd and impla­cable Enemy to Anxiety, Sorrow, Fear and Con­straint, who, having Nature for her Guide, has Fortune and Pleasure for her Companions, that they have gone according to their own weak Imagination, and created this ridiculous, this sorrowful, querulous, despiteful, threatning, ter­rible Image of it to themselves and others, and plac'd it upon a solitary Rock amongst Thorns and Brambles, and made of it a Hobgoblin to fright people from daring to approach it. But the Governour that I would have, that is such a one as knows it to be his Duty to pos­sess his Pupil with as much or more Affection than Reverence to Vertue, will be able to in­form him, that the Poets have evermore ac­commodated themselves to the Publick Hu­mour, and make him sensible, that the Gods have planted more Toil and Sweat in the Ave­nues of the Cabinets of Venus, than those of Minerva, which, when he shall once find him begin to apprehend, and shall represent to him a Bradamanta or an Angelica for a Mis­triss, a natural, active, generous, and not a mankind, but a manly Beauty, in comparison of a soft, delicate, artificial, simpring, and affected form; the one disguis'd in the Habit of an Heroick Youth, with her beautiful face set out in a glittering Helmet, the other trick'd up in Curls and Ribbons like a wanton Minx; he will then look upon his own affe­ction as brave and Masculine, when he shall [Page 247] choose quite contrary to that Effeminate Shepherd of Phrygia. Such a Tutor will make a Pupil to digest this new Doctrine, that the height and value of true Vertue consists in the Facility, Utility, and Pleasure of its Exercise; so far from Difficulty, that Boys, as well as Men, and the innocent as well as the subtle, may make it their own; and it is by Order and good Conduct, and not by Force, that it is to be acquir'd. Socrates, her first Mini­on, is so averse to all manner of Violence, as totally to throw it aside, to slip into the more natural Facility of her own Progress: 'Tis the Nursing-Mother of all humane Pleasures, who in rendring them just, renders them also pure and permanent; in moderating them, keeps them in Breath and Appetite; in inter­dicting those which she her self refuses, whets our Desire to those that she allows; and, like a kind and liberal Mother, abundantly allows all that Nature requires, even to Satiety, if not to Lassitude; unless we will declaim, That the Regiment of Health stops the To­per's Hand before he hath drank himself Drunk, the Gluttons before he hath eaten to a Surfeit, and the Whore-masters Career be­fore he have got the Pox, is an Enemy to Pleasure. If the ordinary Fortune fail, and that she meet with an indocile Disposition, she passes that Disciple by, and takes another, not so fickle and unsteady as the other, which she forms wholly her own. She can be Rich, be Potent and Wise, and knows how to lie upon soft Down, and perfum'd Quilts too: she [Page 248] loves Life, Beauty, Glory, and Health; but her proper and peculiar Office is to know re­gularly how to make use of all these good things, and how to part with them without Concern: an Office much more noble than troublesome, and without which the whole Course of Life is unnatural, turbulent, and deform'd; and there it is indeed, that Men may iustly represent those Monsters upon Rocks and Precipices. If this Pupil shall hap­pen to be of so cross and contrary a Disposi­tion that he had rather hear a Tale of a Tub than the true Narrative of some noble Expe­dition, or some wise and learned Discourse; who at the Beat of Drum, that excites the youthful Ardour of his Companions, leaves that to follow another that calls to a Morrice or the Beats, and who would not wish, and find it more delightful, and more pleasing, to return all Dust and Sweat victorious from [...] Battel, than from Tennis, or from a Ball, with the Prize of those Exercises; I see no other Remedy, but that he be bound Prentice in some good Town to learn to make mine'd Pyes, though he were the Son of a Duke, ac­cording to Plato's Precept, That Children are to be plac'd out, and dispos'd of, not accord­ing to the Wealth, Qualities, or Condition of the Father, but according to the Faculties and the Capacity of their own Soul. But since Philosophy is that which instructs us to live, and that Infancy has there its Lessons as well as other Ages, why is it not communicated [Page 249] to Children betimes? And why are they not more early initiated in it?

They begin to teach us to live when we have almost done living. A hundred Students have got the Poxbefore they have come to read Ari­stotle's Lecture of Temperance. Cicero said, that though he should live two Mens Ages, he should never find leisure to study the Lyrick Poets; and I find these Sophisters yet more deplorably un­profitable. The Boy we would breed has a great deal less time to spare; he owes but the first fif­teen or sixteen Years of his Life to Discipline, the Remainder is due to Action: let us therefore employ that short time in necessary instruction. Away with the Logical Subtilties, they are Abuses, things by which our Lives can never be amended: take me the plain Philosophical Discourses, learn first how rightly to choose, and then rightly to apply them, they are more easie to be understood than one of Bocace his Novels; a Child from Nurse is much more capa­ble of them, Aristotle's method of Instruct­ing Alex­ander the Great. than of learning to read or to write. Philosophy has Discourses equally pro­per for Childhood, as for the decrepid Age of Men; and I am of Plutarch's mind, that Aristotle [Page 250] did not so much trouble his great Disciple with the Knack of forming Syllogisms, or with the E­lements of Geometry, as with infusing into him good Precepts concerning Valour, Prowess, Magnanimity, Temperance, and the Contempt of Fear; and with this Ammunition, sent him, whilst yet a Boy, with no more than 30000 Foot, 4000 Horse, and but 42000 Crowns to subjugate the empire of the whole Earth. For the other Arts and Sciences, Alexander says, he highly indeed commended their Excel­lency and Quaintness, and had them in very great Honour and Esteem, but not ravish'd with them to that degree, as to be tempted to af­fect the Practice of them in his own Person.

Epicurus, in the beginning of his Letter to Meniceus, says, that neither the youngest should refuse to Philosophize, nor the eldest grow weary of it: and who does otherwise, seem tacitely to imply, that either the time of living happily is not yet come, or that it is already past: and yet for all that, I would not have this Pupil of ours imprison'd, and made a Slave to his Book; nor would I have him given up to the Morosity, and melancholick [Page 251] Humour, of a sour, ill-natur'd Pedant. I would not have his Spirit cow'd and subdu'd, by applying him to the Rack, and tormenting him as some do, 14 or 15 Hours a day, and so make a Pack-Horse of him. Neither should I think it good, when, by reason of a solita­ry and melancholick Complexion, he is dis­cover'd to be much addicted to his Book, to nourish that Humour in him, for that renders them unfit for Civil Conversation, and diverts them from better Employments. And how many have I seen in my time totally brutified by an immoderate Thirst after Knowledge? Carneades was so besotted with it, that he would not find time so much as to comb his Head, or to pare his Nails; neither would I have his generous Manners spoil'd and corrupt­ted by the Incivility and Barbarity of those of another. The French Wisdom has anciently been turn'd into Proverb, Early, but of no Continuance; and in truth, we yet see, that nothing can be more ingenious and pretty than the Children of France; but they ordi­narily deceive the Hope and Expectation hath been conceiv'd of them; and grown up to be men, have nothing extraordinary, or worth taking notice of. I have heard men of good Understanding say, these Colleges of ours to which we send our young People (and of which we have but too many) make them such Animals as they are. But to our little Mon­sieur, a Closet, a Garden, the Table, his Bed, Solitude and Company, Morning and Even­ing, all Hours shall be the same, and all Pla­ces [Page 252] to him a Study; for philosophy, who as the Formatrix of Judgment and Manners, shall be his principal Lesson, has that privilege to have a hand in every thing. The orator Isocrates, being at a Feast intreated to speak of his Art, All the Company were satisfied with, and commended his Answer; It is not now a time, said he, to do what I can do; and that which it is now time to do, I cannot do, For to make Orati­ons and Rhetorical Disputes in a Company met together to laugh and make good cheer, had been very unseasonable and improper, and as much might have been said of all the other Sciences: But as to what concerns Philosophy, that part of it at least that treats of Man, and of his Offices and Duties, it has been the joynt Opinion of all wise men, that, out of respect to the sweetness of her Conver­sation, she is ever to be admitted in all Sports and Entertainments. And Plato, having in­vited her to his Feast, we shall see after how gentle and obliging a manner, accommodated both to Time and Place, she entertain'd the Company, though in a Discourse of the high­est and most important nature.

By which method of Instruction, my young Pupil will be much more, and better employ [...]d than those of the College are: but as the [Page 253] steps we take in walking to and fro in a Galle­ry, tho three times as many, do not tire a man so much as those we employ in a formal Journey, so our Lesson, as it were acciden­tally occurring, without any set obligation of Time or Place, and falling naturally into eve­ry action, will insensibly insinuate it self. By which means our very Exercises and Recreati­ons, Running, Wrestling, Musick, Dancing, Hunting, Riding, and Fencing, will prove to be a good part of our study. Behavi­our. I would have his outward fashion and mien, and the dispo­sition of his Limbs form'd at the same time with his Mind. 'Tis not a Soul, 'tis not a Body that we are training up, but a man, and we ought not to divide him. And, as Plato says, we are not to fashion one without the other, but make them draw together like two Horses harness'd to a Coach. By which Saying of his, does he not seem to allow more time for, and to take more care of Exercises for the Body, Exercises. and to believe that the Mind in a good Proportion does her Business at the same time too? As to the rest, this Method of Education ought to be carried on with a severe sweetness quite contrary to the Practice of our Pedants, who, Severity an Enemy to Educati­on. instead of tempting and alluring Chil­dren to Letters by apt and gentle ways, do in truth present nothing before them but Rods and Ferula's, Horror and Cruelty. Away with this Violence! away with this Compulsi­on! than which, I certainly believe nothing more dulls and degenerates a well-descended Nature. If you would have him apprehend [Page 254] shame and chastisement, do not harden him to them. Inure him to Heat and Cold, to Wind and Sun, and to Dangers that he ought to despise. Wean him from all effeminacy, and delicacy in Cloaths and Lodging, Eating and Drinking; accustom him to every thing, that he may not be a Sir Paris, a Carpet-Knight, but a sinewy, hardy, and vigorous young man. I have ever from a Child to the age wherein I now am, been of this opinion, and am still constant to it. But amongst other things, the strict Government of most of our Colleges has evermore displeas'd me, and peradventure they might have err'd less pernici­ously on the indulgent side. 'Tis the true House of Correction of Imprison'd youth. They are taught to be debauch'd, by being punish'd be­fore they are so. Do but come in when they are about their Lesson, and you shall hear no­thing but the out-cries of Boys under execution, with the thund ring noise of their Pedagogues, drunk with Fury, to make up the Consort. A very pretty way this! to tempt these tender and timorous Souls to love their Book, with a furious Countenance, and a Rod in hand! A cursed and pernicious way of Proceeding! Be­sides what Quintilian has very well observ'd, that this insolent Authority is often attended by very dangerous Consequences, and particular­ly our way of Chastising. How much more decent would it be to see their Classes strew'd with green Leaves and fine flowers, than with the bloody Stumps of Birch and Wil­lows? Were it left to my ordering, I should [Page 255] paint the School with the Pictures of Joy and Gladness; Flora, and the Graces, as the Philosopher Speusippus did his; that where their Profit is, they might there have their Pleasure too. Such Viands as are proper and wholsom for Children, should be season'd with Sugar, and such as are dangerous to to them, with Gall. A Man should admire to see how sollicitous Plato is in his Laws concerning the Gayety and Diversion of the Youth of his City, and how much he enlarges himself upon their Races, Sports, Songs, Leaps, and Dances; of which, he says, that Antiquity has given the ordering and Patro­nage particularly to Apollo, Minerva, and the Muses. He insists long upon, and is very particular in giving innumerable Precepts for Exercises; but as to the Lettered Sciences, says very little, and only seems particularly to recommend Poesie upon the Account of Mu­sick. All Singularity in our Manners and Conditions, is by all means to be avoided as inconsistent with civil Society. Who would not be astonish'd at so strange a Consti­tution as that of Demophon, Steward to Alex­ander the Great, who sweat in the Shade, and shiver'd in the Sun? I have seen those who have run from the smell of a mellow Apple with greater Precipitation than from a Har­quebuze Shot; others run away from a Mouse; others vomit at the sight of Cream; others ready to swoon at the sight of a Cat, as Germanicus, who could neither endure the Sight nor the Crowing of a Cock. I will [Page 256] not deny, but that there may peradventure be some occult Cause and natural Aversion in these Cases; but certainly a Man might con­quer it, if he took it in time. Precept has in this wrought so effectually upon me, though not without some Endeavour on my part, I con­sess, that Beer accepted, my Appetite accom­modates its self indifferently to all sorts of Di­et. Young Bodies are supple, one should therefore in that Age bend and ply them to all Fashions and Customs: and provided a Man can contain the Appetite and the Will within their due limits, let a Young-man, a Gods Name, be rendred fit for all Nations and all Companies, even to Debauchery and Excess if occasion be; that is, where he shall do it out of Complacency to the Customs of the Place. Let him be able to do every thing, but love to do nothing but what is good. The Philosophers themselves do not justifie Callisthenes for for­feiting the Favour of his Master Alexander the Great, by refusing to pledge him a Cup of Wine. Let him laugh, play and drink with his Prince: nay I would have him, even in his Debauches, too hard for the rest of the Com­pany, and to excel his Companions in Ability and Vigour, and that he may not give over doing it, either thorought Defect of Power or Know­ledge how to do it, but for want of Will. Mul­tum interest, Seneca. Epist. 60. utrum peccare quis nolit, aut nesciat; There is a vast Difference betwixt forbearing to sin, and not knowing how to sin. I thought I past a Complement upon a Lord, as free from those Excesles as any man whatever in [Page 257] France, by asking him before a great deal of very good Company, how many times in his Life he had been drunk in Germany, in the time of his being there about his Majesty's Affairs; which he also took as it was intended, and made An­swer, Three times. and withall, told us the whole Story of his Debauches. I know some; who for want of this Faculty, have found a great Inconvenience by it in negotiating, with that Nation. I have often with great Admiration reflected upon the wonderful Constitution of Alcibiades, who so easily could transfrom him­self to so various Fashions without any Preju­dice to his Health; one while out-doing the Persian Pemp and Luxury, and another, the Lacedaemonian Austerity and Frugality, as re­form'd in Sparta, as voluptuous in Ionia.

[Page 258] These are my Lessons, and he who puts them in Practice shall reap more advantage than he who has had them read to him only, and only knows them. If you see him, you hear him: if you hear him, you see him. God forbid, says one in Plato, that to Philosophize were only to read a great many Books, and to learn the Arts. Cic. Tusc. 4. Hanc amplissimam omnium artium bene vivendi disciplinam, vita magis quam literis persequuti sunt. They have more illustrated and improv'd this Discipline of living well, which of all Arts is the greatest, by their Lives, than by their Reading. Leo, Prince of the Phliasians, asking Heraclides Ponticus of what Art or Science he made Profession; I know, said he, neither Art nor Science, but I am a Philosopher. One reproaching Dio­genes, that being ignorant, he should pretend to Philosophy; I therefore, answer'd he, pre­tend to it with so much the more reason. Hegesias intreated that he would read a cer­tain Book to him; you are pleasant, said he, you choose those Figs that are true and natu­ral, and not those that are painted; why do you not also choose Exercises which are natu­rally true, rather than those written and pre­scrib'd? A Man cannot so soon get his Lesson by Heart, as he may practise it: he will re­peat it in his Actions. We shall discover if there be Prudence in his Exercises, if there be Sincerity and Justice in his Deportments, if there be Grace and Judgment in his Speak­ing, if there be constancy in his Sickness, if there be Modesty in his Mirth, Temperance [Page 259] in his Pleasures, Order in his Oeconomy, and Indifferency in his Palate, whether what he eats or drinks be Flesh or Fish, Wine or Wa­ter. Qui disciplinam suam non ostentationem scientiae, Cic. Ibid. sed legem vitae putet, quique obtemperet ipse sibi, & decretis pareat; who considers his own Discipline, not as a vain Ostentation of Science, but as a Law and Rule of Life; and who obeys his own Decrees, and observes that Regiment he has prescrib'd to himself. The Conduct of our Lives is the true mirror of our Doctrine. Zeupidamus, to one who ask'd him, Why the Lacedaemonians did not commit their Constitutions of Chivalry to Writing, and deliver them to their Young-Men to read, made Answer, That it was be­cause they would inure them to Action, and not amuse them with Words: with such a one, after fifteen or sixteen Years study, com­pare one of our College Latinists, who has thrown away so much time in nothing but learning to speak. The World is nothing but Babble; and I hardly ever yet saw that Man who did not rather prate too much, than speak too little; and yet half of our Age is embezled this way. We are kept four or five Years to learn Words only, and to tack them together into Clauses; as many more to make Exercises, and to divide a continued Dis­course into so many Parts; and other five Years at least to learn succinctly to mix and interweave them after a subtle and intricate manner. Let us leave it to the learned Pro­fessors. Going one Day to Orleans, I met [Page 260] in the Plain on this side Clery, two Pedants travelling towards Bourdeaux, about fifty Paces distant from one another, and a good way further behind them, I discovered a Troop of Horse, with a Gentleman in the Head of them, which was the late Monsteur le Compte de la Rochefoucaut; one of my People enquir'd of the foremost of these Domines, who that Gentleman was that came after him, who having not seen the Train that followed after, and I thinking he meant his Compani­on, pleasantly answer'd, A pleasant Answer of a Pedant. He is not a Gentleman, Sir, he is a Grammarian, and I am a Logician. Now we who quite contrary, do not here pretend to breed a Grammarian, or a Logici­an, but a compleat Gentleman, let us leave them to throw away their Time at their own Fancy: our Business lies else-where. Let but our Pupil be well furnish'd with Things, Words will follow but too fast; he will pull them after him if they do not voluntarily fol­low. I have observ'd some to make Excuses, that they cannot express themselves, and pre­tend to have their Fancies full of a great ma­ny very fine things, which yet, for want of Elocution, they cannot utter; a meer Shift, and nothing else. Will you know what I think of it? I think they are nothing but sha­dows of some imperfect Images and Concep­tions that they know not what to make of within, nor consequently bring them out: they do not yet themselves understand what they would be at, and if you but observe how they haggle, and stammer upon the point of [Page 261] Parturition, you will soon conclude, that their Labour is not to Delivery, but about Concep­tion, and that they are but licking their form­less Embryo. For my part, I hold, and So­crates is positive in it, That whoever has in his Mind a spritely and clear Imagination, he will express it well enough in one kind or a­nother, and, though he were Dumb, by Signs.

And as another as poetically says in Prose, cum Res Animum occupavere, Seneca. Verba ambiunt. When things are once form'd in the Fancy, Words offer themselves in muster: and this other, ipsae res Verba rapiunt. The things them­selves force Words to express them. Cicero de fin. l. 3. He knows nothing of Ablative, Conjunctive, Sub­stantive, or Grammar, no more than his Lacquey, or a Fish-Wife of the Petit-Pont; and yet these will give you a Belly full of talk, if you will hear them, and peradventure shall trip as little in their Language as the best Masters of Art in France. He knows no Rhe­torick, nor how in a Preface to bribe the Be­nevolence of the courteous Reader; neither does he care, nor is it very necessary he should know it. Indeed all this Decoration of Pain­ting is easily obscur'd and put down by the Lustre of a simple and blunt Truth; these fine Flourishes serve only to amuze the Vul­gar [Page 262] of themselves incapable of more solid and nutritive Diet, as Afer does very evidently de­monstrate in Tacitus. The Ambassadors of Samos, prepar'd with a long and Elegant O­ration, came to Cleomenes King of Sparta, to incite him to a War against the Tyrant Poly­crates, who after he had heard their Harangue with great Gravity and Patience, gave them this short Answer; As to the Exordium, I re­member it not, nor consequently the middle of your Speech, but for what concerns your Conclusion, I will not do what you desire; A very pretty Answer this, methinks, and a pack of learned Orators no doubt most sweetly con­founded. And what did this other say? The Athenians were to choose one of two Archi­tects for a Surveyor to a very great Building they had design'd, of which, the first, a pert affected Fellow, offer'd his Service in a long premeditated Discourse upon the Subject, and by his Oratory inclin'd the Voices of the People in his Favour; but the other in three Words, Lords of Athens, All that this Man hath said I Will do. When Cicero was in the height and heat of his Eloquence, many were struck with Admiration; but Cato did only laugh at it, saying, We have a pleasant Ridicu­lum Consu­lem. Con­sul. Let it go before, or come after, a good Sentence, or a thing well said, is always in Season, if it neither suit well with what went before nor has any very good Coherence with what follows after, it is however good in it self. I am none of those who think that good Rhyme makes a good Poem. Let him make [Page 263] short long, and long short if it will, 'tis no great matter; if there be invention, and that the Wit and Judgment have well perform'd their Offices, I will say here's a good Poet, but an ill Rhymer. ‘ Hor. ser. lib. sat. 4.Emunctae naris, durus componere versus.’

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

He will never the more forfeit his Praise for that the very Pieces will be fine by them­selves. Menander's Answer had this meaning, who being reprov'd by a Friend, the time drawing on at which he had precisely pro­mis'd a Comedy that he had not yet fall'n in Hand with it, it is made, and ready, said he, all to the Verses. Having contriv'd the Sub­ject, and dispos'd the Scenes in his Fancy, he took little care for the rest. Since Ronsard and du Bellay have given Reputation to our French [Page 264] Poesie, every little Dabler, for ought I see, swells his Words as high, and makes his Ca­dences very near as harmonious as they. Plus sonat, Seneca, Epist. 40. quam valet; There were never so many Poetasters as now, but though they find it no hard matter to Rhime as musically as they, they yet fall infinitely short of imitating the brave Descriptions of the one, and the curi­ous Invention of the other. But what will become of our young Gentleman, if he be at­tack'd with the Sophistick Subtilty of some Syl­logism? A Westphalia Ham makes a Man drink, drink quenches Thirst; therefore a Westpha­lia Ham quenches Thirst. Why let him laugh at it, and it will be more Discretion to do so, than to go about to answer it, or let him bor­row this pleasant Evasion from Aristippus, Why should I trouble my self to untye that, which, bound as it is, gives me so much trouble? One offering at this dialectick Jugling against Cle­anthes, Chrysippus took him short, saying, Re­serve these Baubles to play with Children, and do not by such Fooleries, divert the serious Thoughts of a man of Years. If these ridi­culous Subtilties, contorta, & aculeata Sophis­mata, as Cicero calls them, Cicero Acad. l. 4. are design'd to possess him with an Untruth, they are then dangerous, but if they signifie no more than only to make him laugh, I do not see why they should be so considerable, that a Man need to be fortified against them. There are some so ridiculous, as to go a Mile out of their way to hook in a fine Word: [...]uin. l. 8. Aut qui non verba rebus aptant, sed res arcessunt, qui­bus [Page 265] verba conveniant; who do not fit Words to the Subject, but seek out for things quite from the Purpose, Sen. Ep. 59. to fit those Words they are so enamour'd of. And as another says, Qui ali­cujus verbi decore placentis vocentur ad id, quod non proposuerant scribere; Who by their fondness of some fine sounding Word, are tempted to some­thing they had no Intention to treat of. I for my part rather bring in a fine Sentence by Head and Shoulders to fit my Purpose, than divert my Designs to hunt after a Sentence. On the contrary, words are to serve, and to fol­low a Man's Purpose; and let Gascon come in play where French will not do. I would have things so exceed, and wholly possess the Ima­gination of him that hears, that he should have something else to do, than to think of Words. The way of speaking that I love, is natural and plain, as well in Writing as Speaking, and a sinewy and significant way of expressing a Man's self, short and pithy, and not so elegant and artificial as prompt and vehement. ‘ Epist. Lu­cani.Haec demùm sapiet dictio, quae feriet.’

Rather hard than harsh, free from Affectation; irregular, incontiguous, and bold, where every Piece makes up an entire Body; not like a Pedant, a Preacher, or a Pleader, but rather a Souldier-like Stile, as Suetonius calls that of Julius Caesar; and yet I see no reason why he [Page 266] should call it so. I have never yet been apt to imitate the negligent Garb, which is yet obser­vable among the Young-men of our time, to wear my Cloak on one Shoulder, my Bonnet on one side, and one Stocking in something more Disorder than the other, which seems to express a kind of manly Disdain of those exotick Ornaments, and a Contempt of Art; but I find that negligence of much better use in the form of Speaking. Affectati­on unbe­coming a Courtier. All Affectation, par­ticularly in the French Gayety and Freedom, is ungraceful in a Courtier, and in a Monar­chy every Gentleman ought to be fashion'd according to the Court Model; for which reason, an easie and natural Negligence does well. I no more like a Web where the Knots and Seems are to be seen, than a fine Propor­tion, so delicate, Seneca, Epist. 40. that a man may tell all the Bones and Veins. Quae veritati operam dat ora­tio, incomposita sit, & simplex. Quis accuratè loquitur, nisi qui vult putidè loqui? Let the Lan­guage that is dedicated to Truth be plain and unaffected. For who studies to speak quaintly and accurately, that does not at the same time design to perplex his Auditory? That Eloquence prejudices the Subject it would advance, that wholly attracts us to it self. And as in our outward Habit, 'tis a ridiculous Effeminacy to distinguish our selves by a particular and un­practis'd Garb or Fashion; so in Language, to study new Phrases, and to affect Words that are not of currant use, proceeds from a Childish and Scholastick Ambition. Shall I be bound to speak no other Language than what [Page 267] is spoken in the Courts of Paris? Aristophanes the Grammarian was a little out, when he reprehended Epicurus for this plain way of delivering himself, the End and Design of his Oratory being only Perspicuity of Speech, and to be understood. The Imitation of Words by its own Facility, immediately dis­perses it self thorough a whole People: but the imitation of inventing, and fitly applying those Words, is of a slower Progress. The Generality of Readers, for having found a like Robe, very mistakingly imagine they have the same Body and inside too, whereas Force and Sinews are never to be borrowed, the Gloss and outward Ornament, that is, Words and Elocution, may. Most of those I converse with, speak the same Language I here write; but whether they think the same Thoughts I cannot say. The Athenians (says Plato) are observ'd to study length and elegancy of Speaking; the Lacedaemonians to affect Brevity; and those of Creet to aim more at the Fecun­dity of Conception than the Fertility of Speech; and these are the best. Zenon us'd to say, that he had two sorts of Disciples, one that he call'd [...], curious to learn things, and these were his Favourites; the other, [...], that cared for nothing but Words: not that fine Speaking is not a very good and commendable Quality; but not so excellent and so necessary as some would make it; and I am scandaliz'd that our whole Life should be spent in nothing else. I would first understand my own Lan­guage, and that of my Neighbours with whom [Page 268] most of my Business and Conversation lies. No doubt but Greek and Latin are very great Ornaments, and of very great use, but we buy them too dear: I will here discover one way, which also has been experimented in my own Person, by which they are to be had better cheap, and such may make use of it as will. My Father having made the most precise En­quiry that any man could possibly make a­mongst Men of the greatest Learning and Judg­ment, of an exact method of Education, was by them caution'd of the Inconvenience then in use, and made to believe, that the tedi­ous time we applyed to the learning of the Tongues of them who had them for nothing, was the sole cause we could not arrive to that Grandeur of Soul, and Perfection of Know­ledge with the ancient Greeks and Romans: I do not however believe that to be the only Cause: but the Expedient my Father found out for this, was, that in my Infancy, and be­fore I began to speak, he committed me to the care of a German, The Au­thor's E­ducation. who since died a famous Physician in France, totally ignorant of our Language, but very fluent, and a great Cri­tick in Latin. This Man, whom he had fetch'd out of his own Country, and whom he entertained with a very great Salary for this only end, had me continually in his Arms: to whom there were also joyn'd two others of the same Nation, but of inferiour Learning, to at­tend me, and sometimes to relieve him; who all of them entertain'd me with no other Lan­guage but Latin. As to the rest of his Fami­ly, [Page 269] it was an inviolable Rule, that neither Him­self, nor my Mother, Man nor Maid, should speak any thing in my Company, but such Latin Words as every one had learnt only to gabble with me. It is not to be imagin'd how great an advantage this prov'd to the whole Family, my Father, and my Mother, by this means learning Latin enough to understand it perfectly well, and to speak it to such a Degree, as was sufficient for any necessary Use; as also those of the Servants did, who were most fre­quent with me. To be short, we did Latin it at such a Rate, that it overflowed to all the Neigh­bouring Villages, where there yet remain, that have establish'd themselves by Custom, several Latin Appellations of Artizans and their Tools. As for what concerns my self, I was a­bove six years of Age before I understood ei­ther French or Perigordin, any more than A­rabick, and without Art, Book, Grammar, or Precept, Whipping, or the expence of a Tear, had by that time learn'd to speak as pure La­tin as my Master himself. If (for Example) they were to give me a Theam after the Col­lege fashion, they gave it to others in French, but to me they were of necessity to give it in the worst Latin, to turn it into that which was pure and good; and Nicholas Grouchi, who writ a Book de Comitiis Romanorum; William Guirentes, who has writ a Comment upon Aristotle; George Bucanan, that great Scotch Poet, and Marcus Antonius Muretus (whom both France and Italy have acknow­ledg'd for the best Orator of his time) my [Page 270] domestick Tutors, have all of them often told me, that I had in my Infancy that Language so very fluent and ready, that they were afraid to enter into Discourse with me; and particu­larly Bucanan, whom I since saw attending the late Mareschal de Brissac, then told me, that he was about to write a Treatise of Edu­cation, the Example of which, he intended to take from mine, for he was then Tutor to that Count de Brissac, who afterwards prov'd so valiant and so brave a Gentleman. As to Greek, of which I have but a very little Smattering, my Father also design'd to have it taught me by a Trick; but a new one, and by way of sport; tossing our Declensions to and fro, after the manner of those, who by certain Games at Tables and Chess, learn Ge­ometry and Arithmetick: for he, amongst other Rules, had been advis'd to make me re­lish Science and Duty by an unforc'd Will, and of my own voluntary motion, and to edu­cate my Soul in all Liberty and Delight, without any Severity or Constraint. Which also he was an Observer of to such a degree even of Superstition, if I may say so, that some being of Opinion, it did trouble and disturb the Brains of Children suddenly to wake them in the Morning, and to snatch them violently and over hastily from Sleep, (wherein they are much more profoundly envolv'd than we) he only caus'd me to be wak'd by the Sound of some musical Instrument, and was never unprovided of a Musician for that purpose: by which Example you may judge of the rest, [Page 271] this alone being sufficient to recommend both the Prudence and the Affection of so good a Father; who therefore is not to be blam'd if he did not reap Fruits answerable to so ex­quisite a Culture: of which, two things were the cause. First, a steril and improper Soil: for, tho I was of a strong and healthful Con­stitution, and of a Disposition tolerably sweet and tractable; yet I was withal so heavy, idle, and indispos'd, that they could not rouze me from this Stupidity to any Exercise of Recre­ation, nor get me out to play. What I saw, I saw clearly enough, and under this lazy Complexion nourish'd a bold Imagination, and Opinions above my Age. I had a slothful Wit, that would go no faster than it was led, a slow Understanding, a languishing Inventi­on, and after all, incredible defect of Memory, so that it is no wonder, if from all these no­thing considerable can be extracted. Second­ly, (like those, who, impatient of a long and steady cure, submit to all sorts of Prescripti­ons and Receipts) the good Man being ex­treamly timorous of any way failing in a thing he had so wholly set his Heart upon, suffer'd himself at last to be over-rul'd by the common Opinion, and complying with the method of the time, having no more those Persons he had brought out of Italy, and who had given him the first Model of Education, about him, he sent me at six Years of Age to the College of Guienne, at that time the best and most flourishing in France. And there it was not possible to add any thing to the care he had to [Page 272] provide me the most able Tutors, with all other Circumstances of Education, reserving also several particular Rules contrary to the College Practice; but so it was, that wit [...] all these Precautions, it was a College still. My Latin immediately grew corrupt, of which also by Discontinuance I have since lost all manner of use: so that this new way of Institution serv'd me to no other end, than only at my first coming to preferr me to the first Forms: for at thirteen Years old, that I came out of the College, I had run thorough my whole Course (as they call it) and in truth without any manner of Improvement, that I can honestly brag of, in all this time. The first thing that gave me any Taste of Books, was the Pleasure I took in reading the Fables of Ovid's Metamorphoses, and with them I was so taken, that being but Seven or Eight Years old, I would steal from all other Divertisements to read them, both by reason that this was my own natural Language, the easiest Book that I was acquainted with, and for the Subject, the most accommodated to the Capacity of my Age: for as for Lance­lot du Lake, Amadis de Gaule, Huon of Bourde­aux, and such Trumpery, which Children are most delighted with, I had never so much as heard their Names, no more than I yet know what they contain; so exact was the Disci­pline wherein I was brought up. But this was enough to make me neglect the other Lessons were prescrib'd me; and here it was infinitely to my advantage, to have to do with an [Page 273] understanding Tutor, who very well knew discreetly to connive at this and other Truan­tries of the same nature; for by this means I ran thorough Virgil's Aeneids, Terence, Plau­tus, and some Italian Comedies, allur'd by the Softness and Pleasure of the Subject; whereas had he been so foolish as to have taken me off this Diversion, I do really believe, I had brought nothing away from the College but a Hatred of Books, as almost all our young Gentlemen do: but he carried himself very discreetly in that Business, seeming to take no notice, and allowing me only such time as I could steal from my other regular, and yet moderate Studies, which whetted my Appetite to devour those Books I was natural­ly so much in love with before. For the chief things my Father expected from their Endea­vour to whom he had deliver'd me for Educati­on, was Affability of Manners, and good Hu­mour; and, to say the truth, mine had no other Vice but Sloth and want of Mettle. There was no fear that I would no ill, but that I would do no­thing; no body suspected that I would be wick­ed, but useless; they foresaw an Idleness, but no Malice in my Nature; and I find it falls out ac­cordingly. The Complaints I hear of my self are these, He is idle, cold in the Offices of Friendship and Relation, and remiss in those of the Publick; he is too particular, he is too proud: but the most Injurious do not say, Why has he taken such a thing? Why has he not paid such a one? But why does he part with nothing? Why does he not give? And I [Page 274] should take it for a Favour that Men would ex­pect from me no greater Effects of Superero­gation than these. But they are unjust to ex­act from me what I do not owe; and in con­demning me to it, they Efface the Gratificati­on of the Act, and deprive me of the Grati­tude that would be due to me upon such a Bounty; whereas the active Benefit ought to be of so much the greater Value from my hands, by how much I am not passive that way at all I can the more freely dispose of my Fortune the more it is mine, and of my self, the more I am my own. Nevertheless, if I were good at setting out my own Actions, I could perad­venture very well repell these Reproaches, and could give some to understand, that they are not so much offended, that I do not enough, as that I am able to do a great deal more than I do. Yet for all this heavy Dispo­sition of mine, my Mind, when retir'd into it self, was not altogether idle, nor wholly de­priv'd of solid Inquisition, nor of certain and infallible Results about those Objects it could comprehend, and could also without any Helps digest them; but amongst other things, I do really believe, it had been totally impossible to have made it to submit by Violence and Force. Shall I here acquaint you with on [...] Faculty of my youth? I had great Boldness and Assu­rance of Countenance, and to that a Flexibility of Voice and Gesture to any Part I undertook to act. ‘ Vir [...]. Bu­ [...]ol. 8.Alter ab undecimo tum me vix ceperat annus.’

When I play'd the chiefest Parts in the Latin Tragedies of Bucanan, Guerente, and Muretus, that were presented in our College of Guienne, with very great Applause: wherein Andreas Goveanus, our Principal, as in all other Parts of his Undertaking, was without Comparison, the best of that Employment in France; and I was look'd upon as one of the chief Actors. 'Tis an Exercise that I do not disapprove in young People of Condition, and have since seen our Princes, by the Example of the Ancients, in Person handsomly and commendably per­form these Exercises; and it was moreover allow'd to persons of the greatest Quality to profess, and make a Trade of it in Greece. Aristoni Tragico actori rem aperit: Lib. l. 6. 26. huic & genus, & fortuna honesta erant: nec Ars, quia nihil tale apud Graecos pudori est ea deformabat. He imparted this Affair to Aristo the Tragedian, a man of a good Family and Fortune, which nevertheless, did neither of them receive any Blemish by that Pro­fession; nothing of that kind being reputed a Dis­paragement in Greece. Nay, I have always tax'd those with Impertinence who condemn these Entertainments, and with Injustice those who refuse to admit such Comedians as are worth seeing into the good Towns, and grudge the People that publick Diversion. Well-govern'd Corporations take care to assem­ble their Citizens, not only to the solemn Duties of Devotion, but also to Sports and [Page 276] Spectacles. They find Society and Friendship augmented by it; and besides, can there possibly be allow'd a more orderly and regular Diver­sion than what is perform'd in the Sight of e­very one, and very often in the Presence of the Supream Magistrate himself? And I, for my part, should think it reasonable, that the Prince should sometimes gratifie his People at his own Expence; and that in great and popu­lous Cities there might be Theatres crected for such Entertaiments, if but to divert them from worse and more private Actions. But, to return to my Subject, there is nothing like alluring the Appetite and Affection, otherwise you make nothing but so many Asses loaden with Books, and by vertue of the Lash, give them their Pocket full of Learning to keep; whereas, to do well, you should not only lodge it with them, but make them to espouse it.

'TIs not perhaps without Reason, that we attribute Facility of Belief, and easi­ness of Persuasion, to Simplicity and Igno­rance, and I have heard the Belief compar'd to the Impression of a Seal stamp'd upon the Soul, which by how much softer and of less re­sistance it is, is the more easie to be impos'd [Page 277] upon. Ut necesse est lancem in libra ponderibus impositis, de primis sic animum perspicuis [...]edere; As the Scale of the Balance must give way to the Weight that presses it down, so the mind must of necessity yield to Demonstration; and by how much the Soul is more empty, and without Counterpoise, with so much grea­ter Facility it dips under the weight of the first Perswasion. And this is the reason that Children, the common People, Women, and sick Folks, are most apt to be led by the Ears. But then on the other side, 'tis a very great Presumption, to slight and condemn all things for false that do not appear to us like­ly to be true; which is the ordinary Vice of such as fansie themselves wiser than their Neighbours. I was my self once one of those; and if I heard talk of dead Folks walking, of Prophecies, Enchantments, Witchcrafts, or any other Story, I had no mind to believe,

I presently pitied the poor People that were abus'd by these Follies; whereas I now find, that I my self was to be pitied as much at least as they; not that Experience has taught me any thing to convince my former Opinion, tho' my Curiosity has endeavoured that way; but Reason has instructed me, that thus Reso­lutely [Page 278] to condemn any thing for false and im­possible, is arrogantly and impiously to cir­cumscribe and limit the Will of God, and the Power of Nature, within the Bounds of my own Capacity, than which no folly can be greater. If we give the Names of Monster and Miracle to every thing our Reason cannot comprehend, how many are continually pre­sented before our Eyes? Let us but consider through what Clouds, and as it were groping in the Dark, our Teachers lead us to the Knowledge of most of the things we apply our Studies to, and we shall find that it is rather Custom than Knowledge that takes away the Wonder, and renders them easie and familiar to us.

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

[Page 279] He that had never seen a River, imagin'd the first he met with to be the Sea, and the greatest things that have fall'n within our Knowledge, we conclude the Extreams that Nature makes of the kind.

Consuetudine Oculorum, Cicero de Nat. Deora lib. 2. assuescunt Animi, nequ [...] admirantur, neque requirunt rationes earum re­rum, quas semper vident. Things grow familiar to Mens Minds by being often seen; so that they neither admire, nor are inquisitive into things they daily see. The Novelty, rather than the greatness of things, tempts us to enquire into their Causes. But we are to judge with more reverence, and with greater Acknowledgment of our own Ignorance and Infirmity of this infinite Power of Nature. How many unlike­ly things are there testified by People of very good Repute, which if we cannot persuade our selves absolutely to believe we ought at least to leave them in Suspence; for to conclude them impossible, is by a temerarious Presumption to pretend to know the utmost Bounds of Possibi­lity. Did we rightly understand the difference be­twixt impossible, betwixt extraordinary, and what [Page 280] is contrary to the common Opinion of Men, in believing rashly, and on the other side, in be­ing not too incredulous, we should then observe the Rule of Ne quid nimis, enjoyn'd by Chilo. When we find in Froissard, that the Count de Foix knew in Bearn the defeat of John King of Castile at Juberoth the next day after, and the means by which he tells us he came to do so we may be allow'd to be a little merry at it, as also at what our Annals report, that Pope Honorius, the same day that King Philip Augu­stus died at Mant—performed his publick Obsequies at Rome, and commanded the like throughout all Italy; the Testimony of these Authors not being perhaps of Authority enough to restrain us. But what if Plutarch, besides several Examples that he produces out of Anti­quity, tells us, he is assur'd by certain Know­ledge, that in the time of Domitian, the News of the Battel lost by Antonius in Germany, was publish'd at Rome, many days Journey from thence, and dispers'd throughout the whole World, the same day it was fought: and if Caesar was of Opinion, that it has often hap­pened, that the report has preceeded the acci­dent; shall we not say, that these simple Peo­ple have suffer'd themselves to be deceived with the Vulgar, for not having been so clear sighted as we? Is there any thing more delicate, more clear, more spritely, than Pliny's Judgment, when he is pleased to set it to work? Any thing more remote from vanity? Setting aside h [...]s Learning, of which I make less account, in which of these do any of us excell him? And [Page 281] yet there is scarce a Puisne Sophister that does not convince him of untruth, and that pre­tends not to instruct him in the Progress of the Works of Nature: When we read in Bou­chet the Miracles of St. Hilary's Relicks; away with it, his Authority is not sufficient to bear us the liberty of contradicting him: but ge­nerally to condemn all such like Stories, seems to me an impudence of the worst Character. The great St. Augustine, professes himself to have seen a blind Child recover sight upon the Relick of St. Gervase, and St. Protasius at Mi­lan, a Woman at Carthage cur'd of a Cancer, by the sign of the Cross made upon her by a Woman newly Baptiz'd. Hesperius, a famili­ar Friend of his, to have driven away the Spi­rits that haunted his House, with a little Earth of the Sepulchre of our Lord; which Earth being also transported thence into the Church, a Paralytick to have there been suddenly cur'd by it. A Woman in Procession, having touch'd St. Stephen's Shrine with a Nosegay, and after rubbing her Eyes with it, to have recovered her Sight lost many Years: before; with seve­ral other Miracles, of which he professes him­self to have been an Eye-Witness. Of what shall we accuse him and the two Holy Bishops, Aurelius and Maximinus, both which he attests to the Truth of these things? Shall it be of Ignarance, Simplicity, and Facility; or of Ma­lice, and imposture? Is any Man now living so impudent, as to think himself comparable to them, Ciciro 2. de Div. l. 2. either in Virtue, Piety, Learning, Judg­ment, or any kind of Perfection? Qui ut Ratio­nem [Page 282] nullam afferent, ipsa Authoritate me frange­rent. Who though they should give me no Reason for what they affirm, would yet convince me with their Authority. 'Tis a Presumption of great Danger and Consequence, besides the absurd Temerity it draws after it, to contemn what we do not comprehend. For after that, ac­cording to your fine Understanding, you have establish'd the Limits of Truth and Error, and that afterwards there appears a Necessity upon you of believing stranger things than those you have contradicted, you are already oblig'd to quit your hold, and to aquiesce. That which seems to me so much to disorder our Consciences in the Commotions we are now in concerning Religion, is the Catholicks dispen­sing so much with their Belief; they fansie they appear Moderate, and Wise, when they grant to the Huguenots some of the Articles in Question; but besides that, they do not discern what advantage it is to those with whom we contend, to begin to give Ground, and to re­tire, and how much this animates our Enemy to follow his blow: these Articles which they insist upon as things indifferent, are sometimes of very great importance, and dangerous Con­sequence. We are either wholly and absolute­ly to submit our selves to the Authority of our Ecclesiastical Polity, or totally throw off all Obedience to it. 'Tis not for us to determine what and how much Obedience we owe to it, and this I can say, as having my self made tri­al of it, that having formerly taken the liberty of my own Swing and Fancy, and omitted or [Page 283] neglected certain Rules of the Discipline of our Church, which seem'd to me vain, and of no Foundation: coming afterwards to dis­course it with learned Men, I have found those very things to be built upon very good and solid Ground, and strong Foundation; and that nothing but Brutality and Ignorance make us Receive them with less Reverence than the rest: Why do we not consider what Contradictions we find in our own Judgments, how many things were yesterday Articles of our Faith, that to day appear no other than Fables? Glory and Curiosity are the Scourges of the Soul; of which the last prompts us to thrust our Noses into every thing, and the other forbids us to leave any thing doubtful and undecided.

HAving considered the Fancy of a Painter, I have that serves me, I had a mind to imitate his way; For he chooses the fairest Place, and middle of any Wall, or pannel of Wainscote, wherein to draw a Picture which he finishes with his utmost Care and Art, and the vacuity about it he fills with Gratesque; which are odd Fantastick Figures, without, a­ny Grace, but what they derive from their va­riety, and the extravagancy of their Shapes. And in truth, what are these things I scribble, [Page 284] other than Grotesques, and monstrous Bodies, made of dissenting parts, without any certain Figure, or any other than accidental Order, Coherence or Proportion?

In the second part I go Hand in Hand with my Painter, but fall very short of him in the first, and the better, my power of handling not being such, that I dare to offer at a brave piece, finely painted, and set off according to Art. I have therefore thought fit to borrow one of Estienno de Boitic, and such a one as shall honour and adorn all the rest of my work; namely, a Discourse that he called, The Volun­tary Servitude, a piece writ in his younger Years, by way of Essay, in honour of Liberty against Tyrants, and which has since run through the hands of several Men of great Learning and Judgment, not without singular, and merited commendation, for it is finely writ, and as full, as any thing can possibly be: Though a Man may confidently say it is far short of what he was able to do; and if in that more mature Age, wherein I had the happiness to know him, he had taken a design like this of mine, to commit his thoughts to writing, we should have seen a great many rare things, and such as would have gone ve­ry near to have rival'd the best Writings of Antiquity: For in Natural parts especially, [Page 285] I know no man comparable to him. But he has left nothing behind him, save this Trea­tise only, (and that too by chance, for I be­lieve he never saw it after it first went out of his hands,) and some Observations upon that Edict of January made Famous by our Civil Wars, which also shall elsewhere perad­venture find a place. These were all I could recover of his Remains, I to whom, with so affectionate a remembrance, upon his Death-bed, he by his last Will bequeath'd his Library, and Papers, the little Book of his Works only excepted, which I committed to the press. And this particular obligation I have to this Treatise of his, that it was the occasion of my first coming acquainted with him; for it was shew'd to me long before I had the good fortune to know him; and gave me the first knowledge of his name; proving so the first cause and foundation of a Friend­ship, which we afterward improv'd, and maintain'd, so long as God was pleas'd to con­tinue us together, so perfect, inviolate, and entire, that certainly the like is hardly to be found in Story, and amongst the Men of this Age, there is no sign nor trace of any such thing in use; so much concurrence is requir'd to the building of such a one, that 'tis much, if Fortune bring it but once to pass in three Ages. There is nothing to which Nature seems so much to have enclin'd us as to Soci­ety; and Aristotle says, that the good Legisla­tors had more respect to Friendship, than to Justice. Now the most supream point of [Page 286] its perfection is this: Perfect Friend­ship, what. for generally all those that Pleasure, Profit, Publick or Private In­terest, Create and Nourish, are so much the less Generous, and so much the less Friend­ships, by how much they mix another cause, and design, than simple, and pure Friendship it self. Neither do the four Ancient Kinds, Natural, Sociable, Hospitable and Venerean, either separately, or jointly, make up a true and perfect Friendship. That of Children to Parents is rather respect: Friendship being nou­risht by Communication, which cannot, by rea­son of the great disparity, be betwixt them: but would rather perhaps violate the Duties of Nature; for neither are all the secret thoughts of Fathers fit to be communicated to Children, lest it beget an indecent familiarity betwixt them; neither can the advices, and reproofs, which is one of the principal offices of Friend­ship, be properly perform'd by the Son to the Father. There are some Countries, where 'tis the Custom for Children, to kill their Fa­thers; and others, where the Fathers kill'd their Children, to avoid being sometimes an impe­diment to one another in their designs; and more­over the Expectation of the one does naturally depend upon the ruine of the other. There have been great Philosophers who have made nothing of this tie of Nature, as Aristippus for one, who being prest home about the af­fection he ow'd to his Children, as being come out of him, presently fell to spit, saying, that that also came out of him, and that he did al­so breed Worms, and Lice; and that other, [Page 287] that Plutarch endeavoured to reconcile to his Brother, I make never the more account of him said he, for coming out of the same hole. This name of Brother does indeed carry with it an amicable and affectionate sound, and for that reason, he and I call'd Brothers: but the complication of interest, the division of E­states, and that the raising of the one, should be the undoing of the other, does strangely unnerve and slacken this fraternal tie: And Brothers pursuing their Fortune and Advance­ment by the same Path, 'tis hardly possible, but they must of necessity often justle, and hinder one another. Besides, why is it neces­sary that the correspondence of Manners Parts and Inclinations, which beget these true and perfect Friendships, should always meet and concurr in these relations. The Father and the Son may be of quite contrary humours, and Brothers without any manner of Sympathy in their Natures. He is my Son, he is my Brother, or he and I are Cousin-germans; but he is Passio­nate, ill Natur'd, or a Fool. And moreover, by how much these are Friendships, that the Law, and Natural Obligation, impose upon us; so much less is there of our own choice, and voluntary freedom. Whereas that volun­tary liberty of ours, has nothing but that of Affection and Friendship, properly its own. Not that I have not in my own person experi­mented all can possibly be expected of that kind, having had the best, and most indulgent Father, even to an extream old Age, that ever was, and who was himself descended from a [Page 288] Family, for many Generations Famous, and Exemplary for Brotherly Concord:

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

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

So soon as ever they enter into terms of Friendship, that is to say, into a concurrence of Desires, it vanishes, and i [...] gone, fruition destroys it, as having only a fleshly end, and such a one as is subject to Satiety. Friendship on the contrary, is enjoy'd proportionably, as it is desi [...]'d, and only grows up, is nourisht and improves by enjoyment, as being of it self Spiritual, and the Soul growing still more perfect by practice. Under, and subsellious to this perfect Friendship, I cannot deny, but that the other vain Affections, have in my younger Years found some place in my thoughts that I may say nothing of him, who himself confesses but too much in his Verses: So that I had both these Passions, but always so, that I could my self well enough distinguish them, and never in any degree of comparison with one another. The first maintaining its flight in so lofty and so brave a place, as with dis­dain to look down, and see the other flying at a far humbler pitch below. As concerning Marriage, besides, that it is a Covenant, the entrance into which, is only free, but the continuance in it, forc'd and compell'd, ha­ving another dependance, than that of our own Free will, and a Bargain commonly con­tracted to other ends, there almost always [Page 290] happens a Thousand Intricacies in it, to unra­vel enough to break the Thread, and to di­vert the Current of a lively Affection: where­as Friendship has no manner of Business or Traffick with any but it self. Moreover, to say truth, the ordinary Talent of Women, is not such, as is sufficient to maintain the Conference and Communication required, to the support of this Conjugal Tie; nor do they appear to be endu'd with Constancy of Mind, to endure the pinch of so hard and durable a Knot. And doubtless if without this, there could be such a free and voluntary familiarity contracted, where not only the Souls might have this entire fruition, but the Bodies also might share in the Alliance, and a Man be engag'd throughout, the Friendship would certainly be more full and perfect; but it is without example, that this Sex could ever arrive at such perfection, and by the An­cient Schools, is wholly rejected; as also that other Grecian Licence is justly ab­horr'd by our manners; which also fo [...] having, according to their practice, a so necessary disparity of Age, and difference of Offices betwixt the Lovers, hold no more proportion with the perfect Union and Har­mony that we here require, than the other. Quis est enim iste amor amicitiae [...] neque de­formem adolescentem, Cicero Tus. lib. 4. quisquam [...] for­mosam senem? For what is that Love of Fri [...]nd­ship? why does no one Love a deform'd Youth, or a comely Old Man? Neither will that very Picture that the Academy presents of it, as [Page 291] I conceive, contradict me, when I say, that the first fury inspir'd by the Son of Venus into the heart of the Lover, upon the sight of the Flower, and prime of a Springing and blossom­ing Youth, to whom they allow all the Inso­lencies, and Passionate Attempts, that an im­moderate Ardour can produce, was simply founded upon an external Beauty, the false image of Corporal Generation; for upon the Soul it could not ground this Love, the sight of which, as yet lay conceal'd, was but now springing, and not of maturity to Blossom. Which fury, if it seiz'd upon a mean Courage, the means by which he p [...]eferr'd his suit, were rich Presents, favour in advancement to Dig­nities, and such Trumpery, which they by no means approve: If on a more generous Soul, the pursuit was suitably generous, by Philosophical Instructions, Precepts to revere Religion, to obey the Laws, to die for the good of his Country; by examples of Valour, Prudence and Justice, the Lover studying to render himself acceptable by the Grace and Beauty of his Soul, that of his Body being long since faded and decay'd, hoping by this mutual Society to establish a more firm and last­ing Contract. When this Courtship came to affect in due season, (for that which they do not require in the Lover, namely, Leisure, and Discretion in his pursuit, they strictly require in the person Loved; forasmuch as he is to judge of an internal Beauty, of difficult Knowledge, and obsc [...]re Discovery,) then there sprung in the Person Loved the desire of [Page 292] a spiritual Conception, by the mediation of a spiritual Beauty. This was the Principal, the Corporeal, Accidental, and Second Causes, are all the wrong side of the Lover. For this reason they preferr the Person Beloved, maintaining, that the Gods in like manner preferr him too, and very much blame the Poet Aeschylus, for having, in the Loves of Achilles, and Patroclus, given the Lovers part to Achilles, who was in the first flower and pubescency of his Youth, and the handsomest of all the Greeks. After this general Familiarity, & mutual Community of Thoughts, is once setled, supposing the soveraign and most worthy Part to preside and govern, and to per­form its proper Offices, they say, that from thence great Utility deriv'd, both to private and publick Concerns, that the force and pow­er of Countries receiv'd their beginning from thence, and that it was the chiefest security of Liberty and Justice. Of which, the Salutife­rous Loves of Harmonius and Aristogiton is a good instance; and therefore it is, that they call'd it Sacred and Divine, and do conceive, that nothing but the Violence of Tyrants, and the Baseness of the common People, is mimical to it: finally, all that can be said in favour of the Academy, is, that it was a Love which ended in Friendship; which also well enough agrees with the Stoical definition of Love. A­morem conatum esse amicitiae faciendae ex pulchri­tudinis specie. Cicero. Ibid. That Love is a desire of contract­ing Friendship by the Beauty of the Object. I re­turn to my own more just and true description. Omnino amicitiae, Cicero. Amic. corroboratis jam confirmatis in­geniis, [Page 293] & aetatibus, judicandae sunt. Those are only to be reputed Friendships, that are fortified and confirmed by Judgment, and length of time. For the rest, which we commonly call Friends, and Friendships, are nothing but Acquaintance, and Familiarities, either occasionally contract­ed, or upon some design, by means of which, there happens some little intercourse betwixt our Souls: but in the Friendship I speak of, they mix and work themselves into one piece, with so universal a mixture, that there is no more sign of the Seam by which they were first conjoyn'd. If a Man should importune me to give a reason why I Lov'd him; I find it could no otherwise be exprest, than by making an­swer, because it was he, because it was I. There is beyond I am able to say, I know not what inexplicable and fatal power that brought on this Union. We sought one ano­ther long before we met, and by the Charact­ers we heard of one another, which wrought more upon our Affections, than in reason, meer reports should do, I think by some se­cret appointment of Heaven, we embrac'd in our Names; and at our first meeting, which was accidentally at a great City entertainment, we found our selves so mutually taken with one another, so acquainted, and so endear'd be­twixt our selves, that from thenceforward nothing was so near to us as one another. He writ an excellent Latin Satyr, which I since Printed, wherein he excuses the precipitation of our Intelligence, so suddenly come to per­fection, saying, that being to have so short [Page 294] continuance, as being begun so late, (for we were both full grown Men, and he some Years the older,) there was no time to lose; nor was ti'd to conform it self to the example of those slow and regular Friendships, that require so many precautions of a long praeliminary Conversation. This has no other Idea, than that of its self: this is no one particular con­sideration, nor two, nor three, nor four, nor a thousand: 'tis I know not what quint­essence of all this mixture, which, seizing my whole Will, carried it to plunge and lose it self in his, and that having seiz'd his whole Will; brought it back with equal concurrence and appetite, to plunge and lose it self in mine. I may truly say, lose, reserving no­thing to our selves, that was either his or mine. When Laelius, in the presence of the Roman Consuls, (who after they had sen­tenc'd Tiberius Gracchus, prosecuted all those who had had any familiarity with him also,) came to ask Cajus Blosius, (who was his chief­est Friend and Confident,) how much he would have done for him? And that he made Answer, All things. How! All things! said Laelius, And what if he had comman­ded you to Fire our Temples? he would ne­ver have commanded me that, repli'd Blosius, But what if he had? said Laelius. Why, if he had, I would have Obey'd him, said the other. If he was so perfect a Friend to Grac­chus, as the Histories report him to have been, there was yet no necessity of offending the Consuls by such a bold confession, though he [Page 295] might still have retain'd the assurance he had of Gracchus his disposition. However, those who accuse this Answer as Seditious, do not well understand the Mystery; nor presuppose, as it was true, that he had Gracchus his Will in his sleeve, both by the power of a Friend, and the perfect knowledge he had of the Man. They were more Friends, than Citizens, and more Friends to one another, than either Friends or Enemies to their Country, or than Friends to Ambition and Innovation. Ha­ving absolutely given up themselves to one another, either held absolutely the reins of the others Inclination, which also they go­vern'd by Vertue, and guided by the conduct of Reason, (which also without these, it had not been possible to do,) and therefore Blosius his Answer was such as it ought to be. If either of their Actions flew out of the handle, they were neither (according to my measure of Friendship,) Friends to one another; nor to themselves. As to the rest, this Answer car­ries no worse sound, than mine would do to one that should ask me, If your Will should command you to Kill your Daughter, would you do it? And that I should make Answer, that I would, for this expresses no consent to such an Act, forasmuch as I do not in the least suspect my own Will, and as little that of such a Friend. 'Tis not in the power of all the Eloquence in the World, to dispossess me of the certainty I have of the intensions and resolutions of mine; nay, no one Action of his, what face soever it might bear, could be pre­sented [Page 296] to me, of which I could not presently, and at first sight, find out the moving cause: Our Souls have drawn so unanimously toge­ther, and we have with so mutual a confidence laid open the very bottom of our hearts to one anothers view, that I not only know his as well as my own; but should certainly in any concern of mine, have trusted my interest much more willingly with him, than with my self. Let no one therefore rank other com­mon Friendships with such a one as this. I have had as much experience of these, as ano­ther, and of the most perfect of their kind: but I do not advise, that any should confound the Rules of the one, and the other; for they would then find themselves much deceiv'd. In those other ordinary Friendships, you are to walk with a Bridle in your hand, with Pru­dence and Circumspection, for in them the Knot is not so sure, that a Man may not half suspect it will slip: Love him (said [...]ilo) so, as if you were one Day to Hate him; and Hate him so, as you were one Day to Love him. A Precept, that though abominable in the Sove­raign and perfect Friendship which I intend, is nevertheless very sound, as to the practice of the ordinary ones, now in fashion, and to which the saying that Aristotle had so frequent in his Mouth, O my Friends, there is no Friend; may very fitly be apply'd. And this glorious Commerce of good Offices, Presents and Bene­fits, by which other Friendships are supported and maintain [...]d, do not deserve so much as to be mention'd here; and is by this concurrence [Page 297] and consent of Wills, totally taken away, and rendred of no use; as the kindness I have for my self, receives no increase, for any thing I relieve my self withall in time of need, (what­ever the Stoicks say,) and as I do not find my Self oblig'd to my Self, for any Ser­vice I do my Self: So the Union of such Friends, being really perfect, deprives them of all acknowledgment of such Duties, and makes them loath and banish from their Conversation, these words of Diversion, Di­stinction, Benefit, Obligation, Acknowledg­ment, Entreaty, Thanks, and the like: All Things, Wills, Thoughts, Opinions, Goods, Wives, Children, Honours and Lives, being in effect, common betwixt them, and that ab­solute concurrence of Affections being no o­ther than one Soul in two Bodies, (according to that very proper definition of Aristotle) they can neither lend, nor give any thing to one another. This is the reason why the Law-givers, to honour Marriage with some imaginary resemblance of this divine Alliance, interdict all Gifts betwixt Man and Wife; in­ferring by that, that all should belong to each of them, and that they have nothing to di­vide; or to give. If, in the Friendship of which I speak, one could give to the other, the receiver of the Benefit would be the Man that oblig'd his Friend; for each of them con­tending, and above all things, studying how to be useful to one another, he that admini­sters the occasion, is the liberal Man, in gi­ving his Friend the Satisfaction of doing that [Page 298] towards him, which above all things he does most desire. When the Philosopher Diogenes wanted Money, he used to say, that he redeman­ded it of his Friends, not that he demanded it; and to let you see the effectual practice of this, I will here produce an ancient and a rare Example; Eudamidas a Corinthian, had two Friends, Charixenus a Sycionian, and Aretheus a Corinthian; this Man coming to Die, being Poor, and his two Friends Rich, he made his Will after this manner, I bequeath to Arethe­us the Maintenance of my Mother, to support and provide for her in her old Age, and to Charixenus I bequeath the care of marrying my Daughter, and to give her as good a Por­tion as he is able; and in case that one of these chance to Die, I hereby substitute the Surviver in his Place. They who first saw this Will, made themselves very merry at the Contents; but the Executors being made ac­quainted with it, accepted the Legacies with very great Content; and one of them, Cha­rixenus, dying within five Days after, and Are­theus by that means having the Charge of both devolved solely to him, he nourisht that old Woman with very great Care and Tenderness, and of five Talents he had in Estate, he gave two and a half in Marriage with an only Daugh­ter he had of his own, and two and a half in Mar­riage with the Daughter of Eudamidas, and in one and the same day solemnized both their Nuptials. This Example is very full, if one thing were not to be objected, namely the mul­titude of Friends: for the perfect Friendship I [Page 299] speak of, is indivisible, every one gives himself so entirely to his Friend, that he has nothing left to distribute to others: But on the Contrary, is sorry, that he is not double, treble, or qua­druple, and that he has not many Souls, and many Wills, to conferr them all upon this one Subject. Common Friendships will ad­mit of Division, one may love the Beauty of this, the good humour of that Person, the liberty of a third, the paternal Affection of the fourth, the fraternal Love of a fifth, and so of the rest. But this Friendship that posses­ses the whole Soul, and there Rules and sways with an absolute Soveraignty, can possibly ad­mit of no Rival. If two at the same time should call to you for succour, to which of them would you run? Should they require of you contrary Offices; how could you serve them both? Should one commit a thing to your Secrecy, that it were of importance to the other to know, how would you disingage your self? A singular and particular Friendship disunites and dissolves all other Obligations whatsoever. The secret I have sworn not to reveal to any other, I may withour Per­jury communicate to him who is not another, but my self. 'Tis Miracle enough certainly, for a Man to double himself, and those that talk of tripling, talk they know not of what. Nothing is extream, that has its like; and who shall presuppose, that of two, I love one as much as the other, that they Love one another too, and love me as much as I love them, does multiply in Friendship, the most [Page 300] single and united of all things, and wherein moreover, one alone, is the hardest thing in the World to find. The remaining part of this Story suits very well with what I said be­fore; for Eudamidas as a Bounty and Favour, Bequeaths to his Friends a Legacy of employ­ing themselves in his Necessity; he leaves them Heirs to this Liberality of his, which consists, in giving them the Opportunity of conferring a Benefit upon him, and doubtless the force of Friendship is more eminently ap­parent in this act of his, than in that of A­retheus. In short, these are effects not to be imagin'd nor comprehended by such as have not experience of them, and which makes me infinitely honour and admire the Answer of that young Soldier to Cyrus, by whom being askt how much he would take for a Horse, with which he had won the prize of a Course, and whether he would exchange him for a Kingdom? No, truly Sir, said he, but I would give him with all my Heart, to find a true Friend, could I find, out any Man worthy of that Relation. He did not say ill in saying, could I find, for though a Man may almost e­very where meet with Men sufficiently quali­fied for a superficial acquaintance; yet in this, where a Man is to deal from the very bottom of his Heart, without any manner of reserva­tion, it will be requisite, that all the Wards and Springs be neatly and truly wrought, and perfectly sure. In Leagues that hold but by one end, we are only to provide against the imperfections, that particularly concern that [Page 301] end. It can be of no importance to me, of what Religion my Physician or my Lawyer is, provided the one be a good Lawyer, and the other a good Physician; this considerati­on hath nothing in common with the Offices of Friendship, and I am of the same indiffe­rency in the domestick acquaintance, my Ser­vants must necessarily contract with me; I never enquire, when I am to take a Footman, if he be Chaste, but if he be Diligent; and am not sollicitous, if my Chair-man be given to Gaming, as if he be strong and able, or if my Cook be a Swearer, or a good Cook. I do not however take upon me to direct what other Men should do in the Government of their Families, there are enow that meddle e­nough with that; but only give an account of my method in my own.

In Table talk, I preferr the pleasant and Witty, before the Learned and the Grave: In Bed, Beauty before Modesty, and in com­mon Discourse, Eloquence, whether or no there be sincerity in that Case. And, as he that was found stride upon a Hobby-Horse, playing with his Children, entreated the Per­son who had surprized him in that posture, to say nothing of it, till himself came to be a Father, supposing, that the fondness that would then possess his own Soul, would render him [Page 302] a more equal Judge of such an Action: So I also could wish to speak to such as have had experience of what I say; though, knowing how remote a thing such a Friendship is from the common Practice, and how rarely such are to be found, I despair of meeting with a­ny one qualified to such a degree of compe­tency. For even these Discourses left us by Antiquity upon this Subject, seem to me flat and low, in comparison of the Sense I have of it, and in this particular, the Effects surpass the very Precepts of Philosophy.

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

I have only led a sorrowful and languishing Life; and the very Pleasures that present them­selves to me, instead of administring any thing of Consolation, double my affliction for his loss. We were halves throughout, and to that degree, that methinks, by out-living him, I defraud him of his Part.

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

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

But let us hear a little Boy of Sixteen speak.

In this place I did once intend to have inserted those Memoirs upon that famous Edict of January: But being I since find that they are already Printed, and with a malicious design, by some who make it their business to molest, and endeavour to subvert the state of our Government, not caring whether they mend and reform it, or no; and that they have confounded this Writing of his with others of their own Leven, Apology for Esti­enne de Bo­etie. I desisted from that purpose: But that the Memory of the Father may not be interested, nor suffer with such, as could not come near hand to be acquainted with his Principles; I here give them truly to understand, that it was writ by him in his very green Years, and that by way of Exercise only, as a common Theme that has been tumbled and tost by a Thousand Wri­ters. I make no question, but that he himself be­liev'd what he writ, being so Consciencious that way, that he would not so much as lye in jest: and do moreover know, that could it have been in his own Choice, he had rather have been Born at Venice, than at Soarlac, and he had reason: But he had another Maxim Soveraignly imprinted [Page 306] in his Soul, very Religiously to Obey, and submit to the Laws under which he was Born. There never was a better Citizen, more affectionate to his Country; nor a greater Enemy to all the Com­motions and Innovations of his time: So that he would doubtless much rather have employ'd his Talent to the extinguishing of those Civil Flames, than have added any Fewel to them: For he had a Mind fashion'd to the Model of better Ages. But in exchange of this Serious Piece, I will pre­sent you with another of a more Gay and Frolick Air, from the same Hand, and Writ at the same Age.

MAdam, I offer to your Ladiship nothing of mine, either because it is already yours, or because I find nothing in my Writ­ings worthy of you: But I have a great desire that these Verses, into what part of the World soever they may travel may carry your Name in the Front, for the Honour will accrue to them, by having the great Corisanda de Andonis for their safe Conduct: I conceive this present, Madam, so much the more pro­per for you, both by reason there are few La­dies in France who are so good Judges of Poe­try, and make so good use of it as you do; as [Page 307] also, that there is none who can give it that Spirit and Life your Ladyship does, by that incomparable Voice Nature has added to your other perfections; you will find, Madam, that these Verses deserve your esteem, and will, I dare say, concur with me in this, that Gascony never yielded more invention, finer Expression, or that more evidence themselves to flow from a Masters hand. And be not Jea­lous, that you have but the remainder of what I Publisht some Years since, under the Name of Monsieur de Foix, your brave Kinsman; for certainly these have something in them more spritely, and luxuriant, as being Writ in a greener Youth, and enflam'd with the Noble Ardour that I will tell your Ladyship in your Ear. The other were Writ since, when he was a Suitor in the honour of his Wife, already [...]elishing of I know not what Matrimonial Coldness: And for my part, I am of the same opinion with those, who hold, that Poesie appears no where so Gay, as in a wanton and irregular Subject.

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

AS if we had an infectious Touch, we by our manner of handling corrupt things, that in themselves are laudable and [Page 308] good: We may grasp Vertue so hard, till it become Vicious, if we embrace it too streight, and with too violent a desire. Those who say, there is never any excess in Vertue, for as much as it is no Vertue, when it once becomes excess, only play upon words.

This is a subtle consideration in Philosophy. A Man may both be too much in Love with Vertue, and be excessive in a just Action. Ho­ly Writ agrees with this, Be not Wiser than you should; but be soberly Wise. 'Tis like he means Henry the 3d. of France. I have known a great Man prejudice thè Opinion Men had of his Devotion, by pretending to be devout beyond all Examples of others of his condition. I Love temperate and mode­rate Natures. An immoderate Zeal, even to that which is good, though it does not offend, does astonish me; and puts me to study what Name to give it. Neither the Mother of Pausanias, who was the first instructer of her Son's process, and threw the first stone to­wards his Death: Nor Posthumus the Dictator, who put his Son to Death, whom the Ardour of Youth had fortunately pusht upon the Ene­my a little more advanc'd than the rest of his Squadron, do appear to me so just as strange; and I should neither advise, nor like to follow so Savage a Vertue, and that costs so dear. [Page 309] The Archer that shoots over, misses as well as he that falls short, and 'tis equally troublesome to my sight, to look up at a great Light, and to look down into a dark Abyss. Callicles in Plato, says, That the extremity of Philosophy is hurtful, and advises not to dive into it be­yond the limits of Profit: that taken mode­rately, it is pleasant and useful; but that in the end, it renders a Man Brutish and Vicious: A Contemner of Religion, and the com­mon Laws, an Enemy to civil Conversation, and all Humane Pleasures, incapable of all Publick Administration, unfit either to assist others, or to relieve himself, and a fit Object for all sorts of Injuries and Affronts, without remedy, or satisfaction: He says true, for in its Excess, it enslaves our Natural Freedom, and by an impertinent subtilty, leads us out of the fair and beaten way that Nature has plain'd out for us. The Love we bear to our Wives is very lawful, and yet Theology thinks fit to curb and restrain it. As I remember, I have read in one place of St. Thomas of Aquin, where he condemns Marriages within any of the forbidden degrees, for this reason, amongst others, that there is some danger, lest the Friendship a Man bears to such a Woman, should be immoderate; for if the Conjugal Af­fection be full and perfect betwixt them, as it ought to be, and that it be over and above surcharg'd with that of Kindred too, there is no doubt, but such an addition will carry the Husband beyond the bounds of reason. Those Sciences that regulate the manners of Men, [Page 310] Divinity and Philosophy, will have a saying to every thing. There is no Action so private that can escape their Inspection and Jurisdicti­on, but they are best taught, who are best able to censure and curb their own Liberty. 'Tis the Women that expose their Nudities over freely upon the account of Pleasure, though in the Necessities of Physick and Chirurgery, they are more shy, and more reserv'd. I will therefore in their behalf teach the Husbands, that is, such as are too extravagant and sensu­al in the exercise of the Matrimonial Duty, this Lesson, that the very Pleasures they enjoy in the Society of their Wives, are Reproachable, if im­moderate, and that a Licentious and Riotous a­buse of them, are Faults, as reproveable here, as il­legitimate and adulterous Practices. Those im­modest and Debauch'd Tricks and Postures, that the first Ardour suggests to us in this Affair, are not only indecently, but inconveniently practis'd upon our Wives. Let them at least learn impudency from another hand; they are always ready enough for our Business, and I for my part always went the plain way to work. Marriage is a Solemn and Religious Tie, and therefore the pleasure we extract from thence, should be a sober and serious delight, and mix with a certain kind of Gra­vity; it should be a kind of discreet and con­scientious pleasure. And being that the chief end of it is Generation, some make a Question, whether when Men are out of hopes of that fruit, as when they are superannuated, or al­ready with Child, it be lawful to lie with our [Page 311] Wives. 'Tis Homicide, according to Plato, and certain Nations, (the Mahometan, a mongst others,) Abominate all Conjunction with Women with Child, and others also, with those who are Unclean. Zenobia would never admit her Husband for more than one Encounter, after which, she left him to his own swing for the whole time of her Concepti­on, and not till after that, would any more receive him: A brave Example of Conjugal Continency. It was doubtless from some Lascivious Poet, and one that himself was in great distress for a little of this sport, that Plato borrowed this Story; that Jupiter was one Day so hot upon his Wife, that not ha­ving so much patience, as till she could get to the Couch, he threw her upon the Floor, where the vehemency of pleasure made him forget the great and important Resolutions he had but newly taken with the rest of the Gods, in his Celestial Council; and to brag, that he had had as good a Bout, as when he got her Maidenhead unknown to their Parents. The Kings of Persia were wont to invite their Wives to the beginning of their Festivals; but when the Wine began to work in good earnest, and that they were to give the Reins to pleasure, they sent them back to their pri­vate Apartments, that they might not partici­pate of their immoderate Lust, sending for other Women in their stead, with whom they were not oblig'd to so great a decorum of re­spect. All Pleasures, and all sorts of Gratifi­cations, are not properly and fitly conferr'd [Page 312] upon all sorts of Persons. Epaminondas had Committed a young Man for certain Debau­ches; for whom Pelopidas mediated, that at his request he might be set at liberty, which, notwithstanding the great intelligence betwixt them, Epaminondas resolutely deny'd to him, but granted it at the first word to a Wench of his, that made the same intercession; saying, that it was a Gratification fit for such a one as she, but not for a Captain. Sophocles being joint Praetor with Pericles, seeing accidentally a fine Boy pass by: O what a delicate Boy is that said he; I, that were a Prize, answered Pericles, for any other than a Praetor, who ought not only to have his Hands, but his Eyes Chaste too. Elius Verus the Emperour, an­swered his Wife, who Reproach'd him with his Love to other Women, That he did it upon a Conscientious account, forasmuch as Marriage was a Name of Honour, and Dignity, not of Wanton and Lascivious Desire. And our Ec­clesiastical History preserves the Memory of that Woman in great Veneration, who parted from her Husband, because she would not comply with his indecent and inordinate De­sire. In fine, there is no so just and lawful pleasure, wherein the Intemperance and Ex­cess, is not to be Condemn'd. But, to speak the truth, is not Man a most miserable Crea­ture the while? It is scarce, by his Natural Condition, in his power to taste one Pleasure pure and entire; and yet must he be contri­ving Doctrines and Precepts, to Curtail that little he has; he is not yet Wretched enough, [Page 313] unless by Art and Study, he Augment his own Misery.

Humane Wisdom makes as ill use of her Talent, when she exercises it in rescinding from the number and sweetness of those Plea­sures, that are naturally our due, as she em­ploys it favourably, and well, in Artifically disguising and tricking out the ills of Life, to alleviate the Sense of them. Had I rul'd the Roast, I should have taken another, and more natural course, which, to say the truth, is both Commodious and Sacred, and should per­adventure have been able to have limited it too. Notwithstanding that both our Spiritual and corporal Physicians, as by compact be­twixt themselves, can find no other way to cure, nor other Remedy for the Infirmities of the Body, and the Soul, than what is oft times worse than the Disease, by tor­menting us more and by adding to our Mise­ry and Pain. To this end Watchings, Fast­ings, Hair-shirts, remote and solitary Banish­ments, perpetual Imprisonments, Whips, and other Afflictions, have been introduc'd amongst Men: But so, that they should carry a sting with them, and be real Afflictions in­deed; and not fall out so, as it once did to one Gallio, who having been sent an Exile [Page 314] into the Isle of Lesbos, news was not long after brought to Rome, that he there Liv'd as Mer­ry, as the Day was long; and that what had been enjoyn'd him for a Penance, turn'd to his greatest Pleasure and Satisfaction: Whereupon the Senate thought fit to recall him home to his Wife and Family, and con­fine him to his own House, to accommodate their Punishment to his feeling and apprehensi­on. For to him whom Fasting would make more Heathful and more Spritely, and to him to whose Palate Fish were more acceptable than Flesh, it would be no proper, nor sanative Receipt; no more than in the other sort of Physick, where the Drugs have no effect upon him who swallows them with Appetite and Pleasure. The Bitterness of the Portion, and the Abhorrency of the Patient, are necessary Circumstances to the Operation. The Nature that would eat Rheubarb like Butter'd Turnips, would frustrate the use and virtue of it; it must be something to trouble and disturb the Stomach, that must Purge and Cure it: and here the common Rule, that things are Cur'd by their contraries, fails; for in this, one ill is Cur'd by another. This Belief a little re­sembles that other so Ancient one, of thinking to gratifie the Gods and Nature, by Self-Mur­ther; an Opinion universally once receiv'd in all Religions, and to this day retain'd in some. For in these latter times wherein our Fathers Liv'd, Amurath at the taking of Isthmus, Im­molated Six Hundred Young Greeks to his Fa­ther's Soul, in the nature of a propitiatoy Sa­crifice [Page 315] for the Sins of the Deceased. And in those new Countries discover'd in this Age of ours, which are pure, and Virgins yet, in comparison of ours, this practice is in some measure every where receiv'd. All their Idols reek with humane Bloud, not without various Examples of Horrid Cruelty. Some they burn alive, and half Broil'd take them off the Coals to tear out their Hearts and Entrails; others, even Women, they fley alive, and with their Bloudy Skins Cloth and Disguise others. Nei­ther are we without great Examples of Con­stancy and Resolution in this Affair: The poor Souls that are to be Sacrific'd, Old Men, Women and Children, going some Days be­fore to beg Alms for the Offering of their Sa­crifice, and so singing and dancing, present themselves to the Slaughter. The Ambassa­dors of the King of Mexico, setting out to Fernando Cortez the Power and Greatness of their Master, after having told him, that he had Thirty Vassals, of which each was able to Raise an Hundred Thousand Fighting Men, and that he kept his Court in the fairest and best Fortified City under the Sun, added at last, that he was oblig'd Yearly to offer the Gods Fifty Thousand Men. And it is confi­dently affirm'd, that he maintain'd a continual War, with some Potent Neighbouring Nati­ons, not only to keep the Young Men in Ex­ercise, but principally, to have wherewithal to furnish his Sacrifices with his Prisoners of War. At a certain Town in another place, for the welcome of the said Cortez, they Sa­crificed [Page 316] Fifty Men at once. I will tell you this one Tale more, and I have done; Some of these People being Beaten by him, sent to Complement him, and to Treat with him of a Peace, whose Messengers carried him Three sorts of Presents, which they presented in these terms: Behold, Lord, here are Five Slaves, if thou beest a furious God that feedest upon Flesh and Bloud, eat these, and we will bring thee more; if thou beest an Affable God, behold here Incense and Feathers; but if thou beest a Man, take these Fowls and these Fruits, that we have brought thee.

WHen Pyrrhus King of Epire invaded Italy, having view'd and consider'd the Order of the Army, the Romans sent out to meet him; I know not, said he, what kind of Barbarians (for so the Greeks call'd all other Nations) these may be; but the Discipline of this Army that I see, has nothing of Barbarity in it. As much said the Greeks of that Flaminius brought into their Country; and Philip beholding from an Emi­nence, the Order and the distribution of the Roman Camp, led into his Kingdom by Publius Sulpitius Galba, spake to the same effect. By which it appears, how Cautious Men ought to be, of taking things upon trust from Vul­gar [Page 317] Opinion, and that we are to judge by the Eye of Reason, and not from common report. I have long had a Man in my House, that Liv'd ten or Twelve Years in the new World discover'd in these latter Days, and in that part of it where Velegaignon Landed, which he call'd Antartick France. This Discovery of so vast a Country seems to be of very great Consideration; and we are not sure, that here­after there may not be another, so many wiser Men than we have been deceiv'd in this. I am afraid our Eyes are bigger than our Bellies, and that we have more Curiosity than Capacity: for we grasp at all, but catch nothing but Air. Plato brings in Solon, telling a Story, that he had heard from the Priests of Sais in Aegypt, that of Old, and before the Deluge, there was a great Island call'd Atlantis, situate directly at the Mouth of the Streight of Gibralter, which contain'd more Ground, than both Africk and Asia put together; and that the Kings of that Country, who not only possest that Isle, but extended their Dominion so far into the Continent, that they had a Country, as large as Africk to Aegypt, and as long as Europe to Tuscany, attempted to Encroach even upon Asia, and to subjugate all the Nations that Border upon the Mediterranean Sea, as far as the Gulf, of Mare Maggiore; and to that effect, over-ran all Spain, the Gauls, and Italy, so far, as to penetrate into Greece, where the Athenians stopt the Torrent of their Arms: but sometimes after, both the Atheni­ans, [Page 318] they, and their Island, were swallowed by the Flood.

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

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

But there is no great appearance, that this Isle was this new World so lately discover'd: for that almost toucht upon Spain, and it were an incredible effect of an Inundation, to have tumbled so prodigious a Mass, above Twelve Hundred Leagues: Besides that our Modern Na­vigators [Page 319] have already almost discover'd it to be no Island, but firm Land, and Conti­nent, with the East-Indies on the one side, and with the Land under the two Poles on two others; or if it be separate from them, 'tis by so narrow a Streight, and so inconsidera­ble a Channel, that it never the more de­serves the Name of an Island for that. It should seem, that in this great Body, there are two sorts of Motions, the one Natural, and the other Febrifick, as there are in ours. When I consider the Impression that our River of Dordoigne has made in my time, on the right Bank of its descent, and that in Twenty Years it has gain'd so much, and undermin'd the Foundations of so many Houses, I perceive it to be an extraordinary Agitation: for had it always follow'd this Course, or were hereafter to do it, the prospect of the World would be totally chang'd. But Rivers alter their Course, sometimes beating against the one side, and sometimes the other, and sometimes quietly keeping the Channel. I do not speak of sudden Inundations, the causes of which every Body understands. In Medoc, by the Sea-shore, the Sieur d' Arsac my Brother, sees an Estate, he had there, Buried under the Sands which the Sea Vomits before it: where the tops of some Houses are yet to be seen, and where his Rents and Revenues are converted into pitiful Bar­ren Pasturage. The Inhabitants of which place affirm, That of late Years the Sea has driven so vehemently upon them, that they have lost above Four Leagues of Land. These [Page 320] Sands are her Harbingers. And we now see great heaps of moving Sand, that march half a League before her.

The other Testimony from Antiquity, to which some would apply this discovery of the new World, is in Aristotle; at least, if that little Book of unheard of Miracles be his. He there tells us, That certain Carthaginians, having crost the Atlantick Sea without the Streight of Gibralter, and Sailed a very long time, discover'd at last a great and fruitful Island, all cover'd over with Wood, and Wa­ter'd with several broad and deep Rivers; far remote from all firm Land, and that they, and others after them, allur'd by the pleasantness and fertility of the Soil, went thither with their Wives and Children, and began to Plant a Colony: But the Senate of Carthage visibly perceiving their People by little and little, to grow thin, Issu'd out an express Prohibition, That no one, upon pain of Death, should Transport themselves thither; and also drove out these new Inhabitants; fearing, 'tis said, least in process of time, they should so multi­ply, as to supplant them themselves, and Ru­ine their State: But this Relation of Aristotle's, does no more agree with our new found Lands, than the other. This Man that I have is a plain ignorant Fellow, and therefore the more likely to tell Truth: For your better bred sort of Men, are much more Curious in their Observation, 'tis true, and discover a great deal more, but then they gloss upon it, and to give the greater weight to what they [Page 321] deliver, and allure your Belief, they cannot forbear a little to alter the Story: they never represent things to you simply as they are, but rather as they appear'd to them, or as they would have them appear to you, and to gain the reputation of Men of Judgment, and the better to induce your Faith, are willing to help out the Business with something more than is really true, of their own Invention. Now in this Case, we should either have a Man of Irreproachable Veracity: or so Simple, that he has not wherewithal to Contrive, and to give a Colour of Truth to False Relations, and that can have no Ends in Forging an Un­truth. Such a one is mine; and besides, the little suspicion the Man lies under, he has divers times shew'd me several Sea men, and Merchants, that at the same time went the same Voyage. I shall therefore content my self with his Information, without enquiring what the Cosmographers say to the Buiness. We should have Maps to trace out to us the particular places where they have been; but for having had this advantage over us, to have seen the Holy Land, they would have the privilege forsooth, to tell us Stories of all the other parts of the World besides. I would have every one Write what he knows, and as much as he knows, but no more; and that not in this only, but in all other Subjects: For such a Person may have some particular Know­ledge and Experience of the nature of such a River; or such a Fountain, that as to other things, knows no more, than what every Body [Page 322] ders, and yet to keep a clutter with this Little Pittance of his, will undertake to Write the whole Body of Physicks: a Vice from whence great Inconveniences derive their Original.

Now, to return to my Subject, I find, that there is nothing Barbarous and Savage in this Nation, by any thing that I can gather, ex­cepting, That every one gives the Title of Barbarity to every thing that is not in use in his own Country: As indeed we have no other level of Truth and Reason, than the Example and Idea of the Opinions and Customs of the place wherein we Live. There is always the true Religion, there the perfect Government, and the most exact and accomplish'd Usance of all things. They are Savages at the same rate, that we say Fruits are wild, which Nature pro­duces of her self, and by her own ordinary progress; whereas in truth, we ought rather to call those wild, whose Natures we have chang'd by our Artifice, and diverted from the common Order. In those, the Genuine, most useful and natural Vertues and Properties, are Vigorous and Spritely, which we have help'd to Degenerate in these, by accommodating them to the pleasure of our own Corrupted Palate. And yet for all this, our Taste con­fesses a flavour and delicacy, excellent even to Emulation of the best of ours, in several Fruits those Countries abound with, without Art or Culture; neither is it reasonable, that Art should gain the Prehemence of our great and powerful Mother Nature. We have so op­press'd her with the additional Ornaments and [Page 323] Graces, we have added to the Beauty and Riches of her own Works, by our Inventions, that we have almost Smother'd and Choak'd her; and yet in other places, where she shines in her own purity, and proper lustre, she strangely baffles & disgraces all our vain and frivolous Attempts.

Our utmost endeavours cannot arrive at so much as to imitate the Nest of the least of Birds, its Contexture, Queintness and Con­venience: Not so much as the Web of a Con­temptible Spider. All things, says Plato, are produc'd either by Nature, by Fortune, or by Art; the greatest and most beautiful by the one, or the other of the former, the least and the most imperfect by the last. These Nati­ons then seem to me to be so far Barbarous; as having receiv'd but very little form and fashion from Art and Humane Invention, and consequently, not much remote from their Original Simplicity. The Laws of Nature however govern them still, not as yet much vitiated with any mixture of ours: But in such Purity, that I am sometimes troubled we were no sooner acquainted with these People, [Page 324] and that they were not discovered in those bet­ter times, when there were Men much more able to judge of them, than we are. I am sor­ry that Lycurgus and Plato had no knowledge of them; for to my apprehension, what we now see in those Natives, does not only surpass all the Images with which the Poets have adorn'd the Golden Age, and all their Inventions in seigning a Happy Estate of Man; but moreo­ver, the Fancy, and even the Wish and De­sire of Philosophy it self; so Native, and so pure a Simplicity, as we by Experience see to be in them, could never enter into their Ima­gination, nor could they ever believe that Humane Society could have been maintained with so little Artifice; should I tell Plato that it is a Nation wherein there is no manner of Traffick, no knowledge of Letters, no science of Numbers, no name of Magistrate, nor Po­litick Superiority; no use of Service, Riches or Poverty, no Contracts, no Successions, no Dividends, no proprieties, no Employments, but those of Leisure, no respect of Kindred, but common, no Cloathing, no Agriculture, no Metal, no use of Corn or Wine, and where so much as the very words that signifie, Lying, Treachery, Dissimulation, Avarice, En­vy, Detraction and Pardon, were never heard of: How much would he find his Imaginary Republick short of his Perfection?

These were the Manners first by Nature taught.

[Page 325] As to the rest, they Live in a Country, beautiful and pleasant to a Miracle, and so Tem­perate withal, as my intelligence informs me, that 'tis very rare to hear of a sick Person, and they moreover assure me, that they never saw any of the Natives, either Paralytick, Blear­eyed, Toothless, or Crooked with Age. The situation of their Country is all along by the Sea shore, and enclos'd on the other side to­wards the Lands, with great and high Moun­tains, having about a Hundred Leagues in breadth between. They have great store of Fish and Flesh, that have no resemblance to those of ours: which they Eat without any other Cookery, than plain Boiling, Roasting, and Broiling. The first that carried a Horse thither, though in several other Voyages he had contracted an acquaintance and familiarity with them, put them into so terrible a Fright, that they Kill'd him with their Arrows before they could come to discover who he was. Their Buildings are very long, and of Capaci­ty to hold Two or Three hundred People, made of the Barks of tall Trees, rear'd with one end upon the ground, and leaning to, and supporting one another, at the top, like some of our Barns, of which the Covering hangs down to the very ground, and serves for the side Walls, They have Wood so hard, that they cleave it into Swords, and make Grills of it to Broil their Meat. Their Beds are of Cotton, hung swinging in the Roof, like our Seamens Hammocks, for every one one, for [Page 326] the Wives lie apart from their Husbands. They rise with the Sun, and so soon as they are up, Eat for all Day, for they have no more Meals but that: They do not then Drink, (as Suidas reports of some other People of the East, that never Drink at their Meals,) but Drink very often all Day after, and sometimes to a rousing pitch. Their Drink is made of a certain Root, and is of the Colour of our Cla­ret; which they never Drink but Luke-warm. It will keep above two or three Days, has a quick Taste, is nothing Heady, but very com­fortable to the Stomach, loosning to Strangers, and a very pleasant Beverage to such as are us'd to it. They make use instead of Bread, of a certain White Matter, like Coriander Com­fits; I have tasted of it, the taste is sweet, and a little flat. All the whole Day is spent in Dancing. Their Young Men go a Hunting after Wild Beasts with Bows and Arrows, and one part of their Women are employ'd in preparing their Drink the while, which is their chief Employment. There are some of their Old Men, who in the Morning before they fall to Eating, Preach to the whole Family, as they walk to and again from the one end of the House to the other, several times repeat­ing the same Sentence, till they have finish [...]d their turn, (for their Houses are at least a Hundred Yards long,) Valour towards: their Enemies, and Love towards their Wives, be­ing the two heads of his Discourse, never fail­ing in the close, to put them in mind, that they have so much the greater obligation to it; [Page 327] because they provide them their Drink warm, and well order'd. The fashion of their Beds, Ropes, Swords, and Wooden Bracelets, they tie about their Wrists, when they go to Fight and great Canes, boar'd hollow at one end, by the sound of which they keep the Cadence of their Dances, are to be seen in several pla­ces, and amongst others, at my House. They shave all their hairy parts, and much more nearly than we, without other Razor, than one of Wood, or of Stone. They believe the Immortality of the Soul, and that those who have Merited well of the Gods, are Lodg'd in that part of Heaven where the Sun rises; and the Accursed in the West. They have I know not what kind of Priests, and Prophets, that very rarely present themselves to the People, having their abode in the Moun­tains. At their arrival there is a great Feast, and solemn Assembly of many Villages made: that is all the Neighbouring Families, for every House, as I have describ'd it, makes a Village, and are about a French League distant from one another. This Prophet declaims to them in publick, exhorting them to Vertue, and their Duty: But all their Ethicks are ter­minated in these two Articles, of Resolution in War, and Affection to their Wives. This also Prophecies to them Events to come, and the Issues they are to expect from their Enter­prises, prompts them to, or diverts them from War: But let him look to't; for if he fail in his Divination, and any thing happen other­wise, than he has foretold, he is cut into a [Page 328] thousand pieces, if he be caught, and Con­demn'd for a false Prophet; and for that rea­son, if any of them finds himself mistaken, he is no more to be heard of. Divination is a gift of God, and therefore to abuse it, ought to be a Punishable Imposture. Amongst the Scythians, where their Diviners fail'd in the promis'd Effect, they were laid, Bound Hand and Foot, upon Carts loaden with Furs and Bavins, and drawn with Oxen, on which they were Burnt to Death. Such as only meddle with things subject to the Conduct of Humane Capacity, are excusable in doing the best they can: But those other sort of People that come to delude us, with Assurances of an extraordi­nary Faculty, beyond our understanding, ought they not to be Punish'd, when they do not make good the effect of their Promise, and for the temerity of their Imposture? They have continual War with the Nations that Live further within the main Land, beyond their Mountains, to which they go Naked, and without other Arms, than their Bows, and Wooden-Swords, fashion'd at one end like the head of a Javelin. The Obstinacy of their Battels is wonderful, and never end with­out great effusion of Blood: For as to running away, they know not what it is. Every one for a Trophy brings home the head of an Ene­my he has Kill'd, which he fixes over the Door of his House. After having a long time treated their Prisoners very well, and given them all the Regalia's they can think of, he to whom the Prisoner belongs, invites a great [Page 329] Assembly of his Kindred and Friends, who be­ing come, he ties a Rope to one of the Arms of the Prisoner, of which, at a distance, out of his reach, he holds the one end himself and gives to the Friend he Loves best, the other Arm to hold after the same manner; which being done, they two in the presence of all the Assembly, dispatch him with their Swords. After that, they Roast him, Eat him amongst them, and send some Chops to their absent Friends, which nevertheless they do not do, as some think, for Nourishment, as the Scythi­ans, anciently did, but as a representation of an extream Revenge; as will appear by this, That having observ'd the Portugals, who were in League with their Enemies, to inflict ano­ther sort of Death upon any of them they took Prisoners: Which was, to set them up to the Girdle in the Earth, to shoot at the remaining part till it was stuck full of Arrows, and then to hang them: They that thought those Peo­ple of the other World, (as those who had sown the knowledge of a great many Vices a­mongst their Neighbours, and who were much greater Masters in all sorts of Mischief than they,) did not exercise this sort of Revenge without Mystery, and that it must needs be more painful than theirs; and so began to leave their old way, and to follow this. I am not sorry that we should here take notice of the Barbarous Horrour of so Cruel an Action, but that seeing so clearly into their faults, we should be so blind in our own: For I conceive, there is more Barbarity in Eating a Man Alive. [Page 330] than when he is Dead; in tearing a Body Limb from Limb, by Racks and Torments, that is yet in perfect Sense, in Roasting it by degrees, causing it to be bit and worried by Dogs and Swine, (as we have not only read, but lately seen; not amongst inveterate and mortal Enemies, but Neighbours, and fellow Citizens, and which is worse, under colour of Piety and Religion,) than to Roast, and Eat him after he is Dead. Chrysippus, and Zeno, the Two Heads of the Stoical Sect, were of Opi­nion, That there was no hurt in making use of our Dead Carcasses, in what kind soever, for our necessity, and in feeding upon them too; as our Ancestors, who being Besieged by Caesar in the City Alexia, resolv'd to sustain the Fa­mine of the Siege with the Bodies of their Old Men, Women, and other Persons, who were incapable of bearing Arms.

And the Physicians make no Bones of em­ploying it to all sorts of use, that is either to apply it outwardly, or to give it inwardly for the health of the Patient: but there never was any Opinion so irregular, as to excuse, Treachery, Disloyalty, Tyranny and Cruelty which are our familiar Vices. We may then call these People Barbarous, in respect to the Rules of Reason: but not in respect to [Page 331] our selves, who in all sorts of Barbarity ex­ceed them. Their Wars are throughout No­ble and Generous, and carry as much Excuse and fair Pretence, as their Humane Disease is capable of; having with them no other foundation, than the sole Jealousie of Vertue. Their Disputes are not for the Conquest of new Lands, those they already possess, being so fruitful by Nature, as to supply them without Labour or Concern, with all things necessary, in such abundance, that they have no need to enlarge their Borders. And they are moreo­ver happy in this, that they only covet so much as their natural necessities require: all beyond that is superfluous to them: Men of the same Age generally call one another Brothers, those who are younger, Sons and Daughters, and the old Men are Fathers to all. These leave to their Heirs in common this full possession of Goods, without any manner of Division, or other Title, than what Nature bestows up­on her Creatures, in bringing them into the World. If their Neighbours pass over the Mountains, and come to assault them, and ob­tain a Victory, all the Victors gain by it is Glory only, and the advantage of having prov'd themselves the better in Valour and Vertue: for they never meddle with the Goods of the Conquer'd, but presently return into their own Country, where they have no want of any thing necessary; nor of this greatest of all Goods, to know happily how to enjoy their Condition, and to be Content. And these in turn do the same. They demand of their Pri­soners [Page 332] soners no other Ransom, than acknowledg­ment that they are overcome: but there is not one found in an Age, who will rather not choose to die, than make such a Confession, or either by Word or Look, recede from the en­tire Grandeur of an invincible Courage. There is not a Man amongst them, who had not ra­ther be Kill'd and Eaten, than so much as to open his mouth to entreat he may not. They use them with all Liberality and Freedom, to the end their Lives may be so much the dearer to them: but frequently entertain them with­al with Menaces of their approaching Death, of the Torments they are to suffer, of the pre­parations are making in order to it, of the mangling their Limbs, and of the Feast is to be made, where their Carcasses is to be the only Dish. All which they do, to no other end, but only to extort some gentle or submissive word from them, or to Fright them so as to make them run away; to obtain this advan­tage, that they were terrified, and that their Constancy was shaken; and indeed, if rightly taken, it is in this point only, that a true Victory does consist.

The Hungarians, a very Warlike People, never pretended further than to reduce the Enemy to their Discretion; for having [Page 333] forc'd this Confession from them, they let them go without Injury, or Ransom, excep­ting, at the most, to make them engage their word, never to bear Arms against them a­gain. We have several advantages over our Enemies that are borrowed, and not truly our own; 'tis the quality of a Porter, and no ef­fect of Vertue to have stronger Arms and Legs, 'tis a Dead and Corporeal quality to be Active, 'tis an Exploit of fortune to make our Enemy stumble, or to dazle him with the light of the Sun; 'tis a trick of Science and Art, and that may happen in a mean base Fellow, to be a good Fencer. The Estimate and Valour of a Man consist in the Heart, and in the Will, there his true Honour Lives. Valour is Stability, not of Legs, and Arms, but of the Cou­rage, and the Soul; it does not lie in the Va­lour of our Horse, or our Arms, but in our own. He that falls obstinate in his Cou­rage, Si succiderit de genu pugnat. Seneca Epist. If his Legs fail him, Fight upon his Knees. He who for any danger of apparent Death, abates nothing of his assurance, who Dying, does yet dart at his Enemy a fierce and disdainful Look, is over­come not by us, but by Fortune, he is Kill'd, not Conquer'd; the most Valiant, and some­times the most Unfortunate. There are also Defeats Triumphant to Emulation of Victo­ries. Neither durst those Four Sister-Victo­ries, the fairest the Sun ever beheld, of Sala­mis, Platea, Mical and Sicily, ever oppose all their united Glories, to the single Glory of the Discomfiture of King Leonidas, and his Army [Page 334] at the Pass of Thermopylae. Who ever ran with a more glorious Desire, and greater Ambiti­on, to the wining, than the Captain Ischola [...] to the certain loss of a Battel? Who could have found out a more subtle Invention to se­cure his safety, than he did to assure his Ru­ine? He was set to defend a certain Pass of Peloponnesus against the Arcadians, which con­sidering the nature of the place, and the ine­quality of Forces, finding it utterly impossible for him to do, and concluding that all who were presented to the Enemy, must certainly be left upon the place; and on the other side reputing it unworthy of his own Vertue, and Magnanimity, and of the Lacedaemonian name, to fail in any part of his Duty, he chose a mean betwixt these two Extreams, after this man­ner; The Youngest and most Active of his Men, he would preserve for the Service and Defence of their Country, and therefore sent them back; and with the rest, whose loss would be of less consideration, he resolv'd to make good the Pass, and with the Death of them, to make the Enemy buy their Entry as dear as possibly he could: as it also fell: out, for being presently Environ'd on all sides by the Aroadians, after having made a great Slaugh­ter of the Enemy, he, and his, were all cut in pieces. Is there any Trophy dedicated to the Conquerours, which is not much more due to these who were overcome? The part that true Conquering is to play, lies in the Encounter, not in the coming off; and the Honour of Ver­tue consists in Fighting, not in Subduing.

[Page 335] But to return to my Story, these Prisoners are so far from discovering the least Weakness, for all the Terrors can be represented to them, that, on the contrary, during the two or three Months, that they are kept, they always ap­pear with a chearful Countenance; importune their Masters to make haste to bring them to the Test, Defie, Rail at them, and Reproach them with Cowardize, and the number of Bat­tels they have lost against those of their Coun­try. I have a Song made by one of these Prison­ers, wherein he bids them come all, and Dine upon him, and welcome, for they shall withall Eat their own Fathers, and Grandfathers, whose Flesh has serv'd to feed and nourish him. Those Mus­cles, says he, this Flesh, and these Veins, are your own: Poor silly Souls as you are, you little think that the substance of your Ancestors Limbs is here yet: but mind as you Eat, and you will find in it the Taste of your own Flesh: In which Song there is to be observ'd, an Invention that does nothing relish of the Barbarian. Those that paint these People Dying after this manner, represent the Prisoner spitting in the faces of his Executioners, and making at them a wry Mouth. And 'tis most certain, that to the very last gasp, they never cease to Brave and Defie them both in Word and Gesture. In plain truth, these Men are very Savage in comparison of us, and of necessity, they must either be absolutely so, or else we are Sava­ger: for there is a vast difference betwixt their Manners, and ours.

The Men there have several Wives, and so­much [Page 336] the greater number, by how much they have the greater Reputation and Valour, and it is one very remarkable Vertue their Women have, that the same Endeavour our Wives have to hinder and divert us from the Friendship and Familiarity of other Women, those em­ploy to promote their Husbands Desires, and to procure them many Spouses; for being a­bove all things sollicitous of their Husbands Honour, 'tis their chiefest care to seek out, and to bring in the most Companions they can, forasmuch as it is a Testimony of their Hus­bands Vertue. I know most of ours will cry out, that 'tis Monstrous; whereas in truth, it is not so; but a truly Matrimonial Vertue; though of the highest form. In the Bible, Sarah, Leah and Rachel, gave the most Beauti­ful of their Maids to their Husbands, Livia preferred the Passion of Augustus to her own interest, and the Wife of King Dejotarus of Stratonica, did not only give up a fair young Maid that serv'd her, to her Husband's Embra­ces, but moreover carefully brought up the Children he had by her, and assisted them in the Succession to their Father's Crown. And that it may not be suppos'd, that all this is done by a simple and servile Observation to their common Practice, or by any Authoritative Impression of their Ancient Custom, without Judgment, or Examination; and for having a Soul so stupid, that it cannot contrive what else to do, I must here give you some touches of their sufficiency, in point of Understanding; besides what I repeated to you before, which [Page 337] was one of their Songs of War, I have another, and a Love Song, that begins thus; Stay, Adder, stay, that by thy Pattern my Sister may draw the Fashion, and work of a Noble Wreath, that I may present to my Beloved, by which means thy Beauty, and the excellent Order of thy Scales shall for ever be preferr'd before all other Ser­pents. Wherein the first Couplet, Stay, Adder, &c. makes the Burthen of the Song. Now I have convers'd enough with Poetry to judge thus much: that not only, there is nothing of Barbarous in this Invention: But moreover, that it is perfectly Anacreontick: to which their Language is soft, of a pleasing Accent, and something bordering upon the Greek Ter­minations. Three of these People, not fore­seeing how dear their knowledge of the Corrup­tions of this part of the World, would one Day cost their Happiness and Repose, and that the effect of this Commerce would be their Ruine, as I presuppose it is in a very fair way, (Mise­rable Men to suffer themselves to be deluded with desire of Novelty, and to have left the Serenity of their own Heaven, to come so far to gaze at ours,) came to Roan, at the time that the late King Charles the Ninth was there: where the King himself talk'd to them a good white, and they were made to see our Fashions, our Pomp, and the form of a great City; after which, some one ask'd their opi­nion, and would know of them, what of all the things they had seen, they found most to be admired? To which they made Answer, Three things, of which I have forgot the [Page 338] Third, and am troubled at it; but two I yet, remember. They said, that in the first place they thought it very strange, that so many tall Men wearing Beards, strong and well Arm'd, who were about the King, ('tis like they meant the Swiss of the Guard,) should submit to Obey a Child, and that they did not choose out one amongst themselves to Command: Secondly, (they have a way of speaking in their Language, to call Men the half of one another,) that they had Observ'd, that there were amongst us, Men full, and cramm'd with all manner of Conveniences, whilst in the mean time, their halves were Begging at their Doors, Lean, and half starv'd with Hunger and Poverty; and thought it strange, that these Necessitous halves, were able to suffer so great an Inequality and Injustice, and that they did not take the others by the Throats, or set Fire to their Houses. I talk'd to one of them a great while together, but I had so ill an Interpreter, and that was so perplex'd by his own Ignorance, to apprehend my mean­ing, that I could get nothing out of him, of any moment; Asking him, what advantage he reapt from the Superiority he had amongst his own People? (For he was a Captain, and our Mariners call'd him King,) he told me, to March in the Head of them to War: and demanding of him further, how many Men he had to follow him? He shewed me a space of Ground, to sig­nifie, as many as could March in such a com­pass: which might be Four or Five Thousand Men; and putting the question to him, whe­ther [Page 339] or no his Authority expir'd with the War; He told me this remain'd; that when he went to Visit the Village of his dependance, they plain'd him Paths through the thick of their Woods, through which he might pass at his ease. All this does not sound very ill, and the last was not much amiss; for they wear no Breeches.

THings unknown are the principal and true subject of Imposture, forasmuch as in the first place, their very Strangeness lends them Credit, and moreover, by not being subjected to our ordinary Discourse, they de­prive us of the means to question, and dispute them. For which reason, says Plato, it is much more easie to satisfie the hearers, when speaking of the Nature of the Gods, than of the Nature of Men, because the Ignorance of the Auditory affords a fair and large Career, and all manner of Liberty, in the handling of profane and abstruse things; and then it comes to pass, that nothing is so firmly believed, as what we least know: nor any People so con­fident, as those who entertain us with Fabu­lous Stories, such as your Alchymists, Judicial Astrologers, Fortune-tellers, and Physicians, Id genus omne; to which I could willingly if I durst, joyn a sort of People, that take upon [Page 340] them to interpret and Controul the Designs of God himself, making no question of finding out the cause of every Accident, and to pry into the secrets of the Divine Will, there to discover the Incomprehensible Motives of his Works. And although the variety, and the continual discordance of Events, throw them from Corner to Corner, and toss them from East to West, yet do they still persist in their vain Inquisition, and with the same Pencil to Paint Black and White. In a Nation of the Indies, there is this commendable Custom, that when any thing befalls them amiss in any Rencounter or Battel, they publickly ask Par­don of the Sun, who is their God, as having committed an unjust Action, always imputing their Good or Evil Fortune to the Divine Ju­stice, and to that, submitting their own Judg­ment and Reason. 'Tis enough for a Christi­an to believe, that all things come from God, to receive them with acknowledgement of his divine and instructable Wisdom, and also thankfully to accept and receive them, with what Face soever they may present them­selves: But I do not approve of what I see in use, that is, to seek to continue and support our Religion by the Prosperity of our Enterpri­zes. Our Belief has other Foundation enough, without going about to Authorize it by Events: For the People accustomed to such Arguments as these, and so proper to their own Taste, it is to be fear'd, lest when they fail of Success, they should also stagger in their Faith: As in the War wherein we are now Engag'd, upon [Page 341] the account of Religion, those who had the better in the Business of Rochelabeille; making great Brags of that success, as an infallible approbation of their Cause, when they came afterwards to excuse their Misfortunes of Jar­nac, and Moncontour, 'twas by saying, they were Fatherly Scourges and Corrections; if they have not a People wholly at their Mercy, they make it manifestly enough to appear, what it is to take two sorts of Grist out of the same Sack, and with the same Mouth to blow Hot and Cold. It were better to possess the Vulgar with the solid and real Foundations of Truth. 'Twas a brave Naval-Battel that was gain'd a few Months since, against the Turks, under the command of Don John of Austria; but it has also pleas'd God at other times to let us see as great Victories at our own Expence. In fine, 'tis a hard matter to reduce Divine things to our Balance, without waste, and lo­sing a great deal of the weight. And who would take upon him to give a reason, that Arius, and his Pope Leo, the principal Heads of the Arian Heresie, should Die at several times of so like and strange Deaths, (for being withdrawn from the Disputation, by the Grip­ing in the Guts, they both of them suddenly gave up the Ghost upon the Stool,) and would aggravate this Divine Vengeance by the Cir­cumstance of the place; might as well add the Death of Heliogabalus, who was also slain in a House of Office. But what? Irenaeus was in­volv'd in the same Fortune; God being pleas'd to shew us, that the Good have something, [Page 342] else to hope for; and the Wicked something else to fear, than the Fortunes, or Misfor­tunes, of this World: He manages, and ap­plies them, according to his own secret Will and Pleasure, and deprives us of the means, foolishly to make our own profit. And those People both abuse themselves, and us, who will pretend to dive into these Mysteries by the strength of Humane Reason. They never give one hit, that they do not receive two for it; of which, St. Augustine gives a very great proof upon his Adversaries. 'Tis a Conflict, that is more decided by strength of Memory, than the force of Reason. We are to content our selves with the Light it pleases the Sun to communicate to us, by Virtue of his Rays, and who will lift up his Eyes to take in a greater, let him not think it strange, if for the reward of his presumption, he there lose his sight. Sapien. Cap. 9. v. 13. Quis hominum potest scire consilium Dei? aut quis poterit cogitare, quid velit Domi­nus? Who amongst Men can know the Counsil of God? or Who can think what the Will of the Lord is?

I Had long ago Observ'd most of the Opinions of the Ancients to concur in this, That i [...] is happy to Die, when there is more ill than [Page 343] good in Living, and that to preserve Life to our own Torment and Inconvenience, is con­trary to the very Rules of Nature, as these old Laws instruct us.

But to push this Contempt of Death so far as to employ it to the removing our selves from the danger of Coveting Honours, Rich­es, Dignities, and other Favours, and Goods, as we call them, of Fortune, as if Reason were not sufficient to perswade us to avoid them, without adding this new Injunction, I had never seen it either enjoin'd, or practis'd, till this passage of Seneca fell into my hands; who advising Lucilius, a Man of great Power and Authority about the Emperour, to alter his Voluptuous and Magnificent way of Liv­ing, and to retire himself from this Worldly Vanity and Ambition, to some Solitary, Quiet and Philosophical Life, and the other alled­ging some Difficulties; I am of Opinion, says he, either that thou leave that Life, or Life it self. I would indeed advise thee to the gentle way, and to untie, rather than to break, [Page 344] the Knot thou hast undiscreetly Knit, prov [...] ­ded, that if it be not otherwise to be unti'd, then resolutely break it. There is no man so great a Coward, that had nor rather once fall, than to be always falling. I should have found this Counsel conformable enough to the Stoic [...]l Roughness: But it appears the more strange, for being borrowed from Epicurus, who writes the same thing upon the like occasion to Idomi­nius. And I think I have Observ'd something like it, but with Christian Moderation, a mongst our own People. St. Hilary, Bishop of Poictiers, that famous Enemy of the Arian Heresie, being in Syria, had intelligence thi­ther sent him, that Abra his only Daughter, whom he left at home under the Eye and Tui­tion of her Mother, was sought in Marriage by the greatest Noblemen of the Country, as be­ing a Virgin Vertuously brought up, Fair, Rich, and in the Flower of her Age: whereup­on he writ to her, (as it appears upon Record,) that she should remove her Affection from all those Pleasures and Advantages were pro­pos'd unto her; for he had in his Travels found out a much greater and more worthy Fortune for her, a Husband of much greater Power and Magnificence, that would present her with Robes, and Jewels of inestimable va­lue; wherein his design was, to dispossess her of the Appetite, and use of Worldly delights, to join her wholly to God: But the nearest and most certain way to this, being, as he con­ceiv'd, the Death of his Daughter; he never ceas'd, by Vows, Prayers and O [...]aisons, to [Page 345] Beg of the Almighty, that he would please to call her out of this World, and to take her to himself; as accordingly it came to pass; for soon after his return, she Died, at which he exprest a singular Joy. This seems to out do the other, forasmuch as the applies himself to this means at the first sight, which they only take subsidiarily, and besides, it was towards his only Daughter. But I will not omit the latter end of this Story, though it be from my purpose; St. Hilary's Wife having understood from him, how the Death of their Daughter was brought about, by his desires and design, and how much happier she was, to he remov'd out of this World, than to have stay'd in it, conceiv'd so Lively an Apprehension of the Eternal and Heavenly Beatitude, that she Begg'd of her Husband with the extreamest Im­portunity, to do as much for her; and God, at their joint Request, shortly after calling her to him, it was a Death embrac'd on both sides, with singular Content.

THe Inconstancy, and various Motions of Fortune, may reasonably make us expect, she should present us with all sorts of Faces. Can there be a more express Act of Justice, than this? The Duke of Valentenois, having [Page 346] resolv'd to Poison Adrian Cardinal of Cornetto, with whom Pope Alexander the Sixth, his Fa­ther and himself, were to go to Supper in the Vatican: he sent before a Bottle of Poisoned Wine, and withal, strict Order to the Butler to keep it very safe. The Pope being come before his Son, and calling for Drink, the Butler supposing this Wine had not been so strictly recommended to his Care, but only upon the account of its Excellency, presented it presently to the Pope, and the Duke him­self coming in presently after, and being con­fident they had not meddled with his Bottle, took also his Cup; so that the Father Died immediately upon the place, and the Son, af­ter having been long tormented with Sickness, was reserv'd to another, and a worse Fortune: Sometimes she seems to play upon us, just in the nick of an Affair; Monsieur d' Estree at that time Guidon to Monsieur de Vendosme; and Monsieur de Liques Lieutenant to the Com­pany of the Duke of Ascot, being both pertend­ers to the Sieur de Foungueselles his Sister, though of several Parties, (as it oft falls out amongst Frontier Neighbours,) the Sieur de Li­ques carried her, but on the same Day he was Married, and which was worse before he went to Bed to his Wife, the Bridegroom having a mind to break a Lance in honour of his new Bride, went out to Skirmish, near to St. O­mers, where the Sieur d' Estree proving the stronger, took him Prisoner, and the more to illustrate his Victory, the Lady her self was fain [Page 347]

to request him of Courtesie, to deliver up his Prisoner to her, as he accordingly did, the Gentlemen of France never denying any thing to Ladies. Does she not seem to be an Artist here? Constantine the Son of Hellen, founded the Empire of Constantinople, and so many Ages after, Constantine the Son of Hellen put an end to it. Sometimes she is pleas'd to Emulate our Miracles. We are told, that King Clouis Be­sieging Angolesme, the Walls fell down of themselves by Divine Favour. And Bouchet has it from some Author, that King Robert having sat down before a City, and being stole away from the Siege, to go keep the Feast of St. Aignan at Orleans; as he was in Devotion, at a certain place of the Mass, the Walls of the beleagured City, without any manner of Violence, fell down with a sudden Ruine. But she did quite contrary in our Milan War; for Captain Rense laying Siege to the City Verona, and having carried a Mine under a great part of the Wall, the Mine being sprung, the Wall was lifted from its base, but dropt down again nevertheless, whole and entire, and so exactly upon its foundation, that [Page 348] the Besieged suffer'd no Inconvenience by that Attempt. Sometimes she plays the Physician. Jason Phereus being given over by the Physici­ans, by reason of a desperate Imposthumation in his Breast, having a mind to rid himself of his Pain, by Death at least, in a Battel, threw himself desperately into the thickest of the E­nemy, where he was so fortunately wounded quite through the Body, that the Imposthume brake, and he was perfectly cur'd. Did she not also excel the painter Protogenes in his Art? Who having finish'd the Picture of a Dog quite tir'd, and out of breath, in all the other parts excellently well to his own liking, but not being able to express, as he would, the slaver and foam that should come out of his Mouth, vext, and angry at his work, he took his Spunge, which by cleaning his Pencils, had imbib'd several sorts of Colours, and threw it in a rage against the Picture, with an intent utterly to deface it; when Fortune guiding the Spunge to hit just upon the Mouth of the Dog, it there perform'd what all his Art was not able to do. Does she not sometimes direct our Counsels, and correct them? Isabel Queen of England, being to Sail from Zealand into her own Kingdom, with an Army in fa­vour of her Son, against her Husband, had been lost, had she come into the Port she in­tended, being there laid wait for by the Ene­my; but fortune against her will, threw her into another Haven, where she Landed in safe­ty. And he who throwing a Stone at a Dog, hit, and kill'd, his Mother in Law, had [Page 349] he not reason to pronounce this Verse, ‘ Menander [...] [...];’

Fortune has more Judgment than we. Icetes had contracted with two Souldiers to Kill Ti­moleon, at Adranon in Sicily. These Villains took their time to do it, when he was assisting at a Sacrifice, who thrusting into the Crowd, as they were making signs to one another, that now was a fit time to do their business, in steps a third, who with a Sword takes one of them full drive over the Pate, lays him dead upon the place, and away he runs. Which the other seeing, and concluding himself disco­ver'd, and lost, he runs to the Altar, and begs for Mercy, promising to discover the whole truth, which as he was doing, and laying open the whole Conspiracy, behold the third Man, who being Apprehended, was, as a Murtherer thrust and hal'd by the People through the Press, towards Timoleon, and other the most Eminent Persons of the Assembly, before whom being brought, he Cry'd out for Pardon, pleading that he had justly Slain his Fathers Murtherer; which he also proving upon the place, by sufficient Witnesses, which his good Fortune very opportunely supply'd him with­al, that his Father was really Kill'd in the City of the Leomins, by that very Man on whom he had taken his Revenge, he was presently A­warded Ten Attick The old Attick Mine was 75 Drach. Mines, for having had the [Page 350] good Fortune, by designing to revenge the Death of his Father, to preserve the Life of the common Father of Sicily. This Fortune in her Conduct, surpasses all the Rules of Humane Prudence. But, to conclude, is there not a di­rect Application, of her Favour, Bounty and Piety, manifestly discover'd in this Action? Ignatius the Father, and Ignatius the Son, being proscrib'd by the Triumvity of Rome, resolv'd upon this generous Act of mutual kindness, to fall by the hands of one another, and by that means, to frustrate and defeat the Cruelty of the Tyrants; and accordingly, with their Swords drawn, ran full drive upon one ano­ther, where Fortune so guided the points, that they made two equally Mortal Wounds, af­fording withal so much Honour to so brave a Friendship, as to leave them just strength enough to draw out their Bloudy Swords, that they might have liberty to embrace one another in this Dying Condition, with so close and hear­ty an Embrace, that the Executioners cut off both their Heads at once, leaving the Bodies still fast link'd together in this Noble Knot, and their Wounds joyn'd Mouth to Mouth, affectio­nately sucking in the last Bloud, and remain­der of the Lives of one another.

MY Father, who for a Man, that had no o­ther advantages, than Experience only, and his own Natural Parts, was nevertheless [Page 351] of a very clear Judgment, The pro­ject of an Office of Enquiry. has formerly told me that he once had thoughts of endeavouring to introduce this Practice; that, there might be in every City a certain place assign'd, to which, such as stood in need of any thing might repair, and have their Business enter'd by an Officer appointed for that purpose: as for Example, I enquire for a Chapman to Buy my Pearls: I enquire for one that has Pearls to Sell: Such a one wants Company to go to Paris, such a one enquires for a Servant of such a Quality, such a one for a Master, such a one enquires for such an Artificer, some for one thing, some for another, every one according to what he wants. And doubtless, these mutual Advertisements would be of no contemptible, Advantage to the Publick Correspondency and Intelligence: For there are ever more Conditions that hunt af­ter one another, and for want of know­ing one anothers occasions, leave Men in very great necessity. I have heard, to the great shame of the Age we Live in, that in our very sight, two most excellent Men for Learning, Died so Poor, that they had scarce Bread to put in their Mouths, Lilius Gregorius Giraldus in Ita­ly, and Sebastianus Castalio in Germany: And do believe, there are a Thousand Men would have invited them into their Families, with very advantageous Conditions, or have reliev'd them where they were, had they known their wants. The World is not so ge­nerally Corrupted but that I know a Man, that would heartily wish the Estate his Ance­stors have left him, might be employ'd, so long [Page 352] as it shall please Fortune to give him leave to enjoy it, to secure rare and remarkable Per­sons of any kind, whom Misfortune sometimes persecutes to the last degree, from the danger of Necessity; and at least, place them in such a condition, that they must be very hard to please, if they were not contented. My Fa­ther in his Oeconomical Government, had this Order, (which I know how to commend, but by no means imitate,) which was, that besides the Day-book, or Memorial of the Houshold Affairs, where the small Accounts, Payments and Disbursements, which do not require a Secretaries hand, were entred, and which a Bayliff always had in Custody; he Or­der'd him whom he kept to write for him, to keep a Paper Journal, and in it to set down all the remarkable Occurrences, and Day by Day the Memoirs of the Histories of his House: very pleasant to look over, when time begins to wear things out of Memory, and very useful sometimes to put us out of doubt, when such a thing was begun, when ended, what courses were debated on, what concluded; our Voyages, Absences, Mar­riages, and Deaths, the reception of good, or ill news; the change of Principal Servants, and the like. An Ancient Custom, which I think it would not be amiss for every one to re­vive in his own House; and I find I did very foolishly in neglecting the same.

WHatever I shall say upon this Subject, I am of necessity to invade some of the bounds of Custom, so careful has she been to shut up all the Avenues. I was disputing with my self in this shivering season, whether the fashion of going Naked in those Nations lately discover'd, is impos'd upon them, by the hot temperature of the Air, as we say of the Moors and Indians, or whether it be the Original fashion of Mankind; Men of Under­standing, forasmuch as all things under the Sun, as the Holy Writ declares, are subject to the same Laws, were wont in such Considera­tions as these, where we are to distinguish the Natural Laws from those have been impos'd by Man's Invention, to have recourse to the general Polity of the World, where there can be nothing Counterfeited. Now all other Creatures being sufficiently furnish'd with all things necessary for the support of their being, it is not to be imagin'd, that we only should be brought into the World in a defective and indigent Condition, and in such an estate as cannot subsist without Foreign assistance; and therefore it is, that I believe, that as Plants, Trees, and Animals, and all things that have Life, are seen to be by Nature sufficiently Cloath'd and Cover'd, to defend them from the Injuries of Weather; [Page 354]

so were we: But as those who by Artificial Light put out that of the Day, so we by bor­rowed Forms and Fashions have destroy'd our own. And 'tis plain enough to be seen, that 'tis Custom only which renders that impossi­ble, that otherwise is nothing so; for of those Nations who have no manner of knowledge of Cloathing, some are situated under the same Temperature that we are, and some in much Colder Climates. And besides, our most tender Parts are always expos'd to the Air, as the Eyes, Mouth, Nose, and Ears; and our Coun­try Labourers, like our Ancestors in former times, go with their Breasts and Bellies open. Had we been Born with a necessity upon us of wearing Petticoats and Breeches, there is no doubt, but Nature would have Fortified those Parts she intended should be exposed to the Fury of the Seasons, with a thicker Skin, as she has done the Finger ends, and the Soles of the Feet. And why should this seem hard to believe? I Observe much greater distance betwixt my Habit, and that of one of our Country Boors, than betwixt his, and a Man that has no other Covering but his Skin. How many Men, especially in Turky, go naked up­on the account of Devotion? I know not who [Page 355] would ask a Beggar, whom he should see in his Shirt in the depth of Winter, as Brisk and Frolick, as he who goes Muffled up to the Ears in Furs, how he is able to endure to go so? Why Sir, he might Answer, you go with your Face bare, and I am all Face. The Italians have a Story of the Duke of Florence his Fool, whom his Master Asking, How being so thin Clad, he was able to support the Cold, when he himself, warm wrapt as he was, was hardly able to do it? Why, reply'd the Fool, use my Receipt, to put on all your Cloths you have at once, and you'll feel no more Cold, than I. King Massinissa to an extream Old Age, could never be prevail'd upon to go with his Head cover'd, how Cold, Stormy, or Rainy, soever the Weather might be: Which also is reported of the Emperour Severus. Herodotus tells us, that in the Battels fought betwixt the Aegyptians, and the Per­sians, it was Observ'd both by himself, and o­thers, that of those who were left Dead upon the place, the Heads of the Aegytians were found to be without comparison harder, than those of the Persians, by reason that the last had gone with their Heads always cover'd from their Infancy, first, with Biggins, and then with Turbans, and the others always shav'd, and open. And King Agesilaus ob­serv'd to a decrepit Age, to wear always the same Cloaths in Winter, that he did in Sum­mer. Caesar, says Suetonius, March'd always at the Head of his Army, for the most part on foot, with his Head bare, whether it was [Page 356] Rain, or Sunshine, and as much is said of Hannibal.

A Venetian who has long Liv'd in Pegu, and is lately return'd from thence, writes, that the Men and Women of that Kingdom, though they cover all their other Parts, go always Barefoot, and Ride so too. And Plato does very earnestly advise, for the health of the whole Body, to give the Head and the Feet no other Cloathing, than what Nature has bestow'd. He whom the Polacks have E­lected for their King, since ours came thence, who is indeed one of the greatest Princes of this Age, never wears any Gloves, and for Winter, or whatever Weather can come, never wears other Cap abroad, than the same he wears at home. Whereas I cannot endure to go unbutton'd, or unti'd; our Neighbouring Labourers would think them­selves in Chains, if they were so brac'd. Varro is of Opinion, that when it was Ordain'd, we should be bare in the presence of the Gods, and before the Magistrate, it was rather so Or­der'd, upon the score of health, and to Inure us to the Injuries of Weather, than upon the account of Reverence. And since we are now talking of Cold, and French men us'd to wear variety of Colours, (not I my self, for I [Page 357] seldom wear other than Black, or White, in Imitation of my Father,) let us add another Story of Captain Martin du Bellay, who af­firms, that in the Voyage of Luxemburg, he saw so great Frosts, that the Ammunition Wine was cut with Hatchets, and Wedges; was deliver'd out to the Souldiers by Weight, and that they carried it away in Baskets: and Ovid,

At the Mouth of the Lake Moeotis, the Frosts are so very sharp, that in the very same place where Mithridates his Lieutenant had Fought the Enemy dry-foot, and given them a notable Defeat, the Summer following he ob­tain'd over them a Famous Naval Victory. The Romans Fought at a very great disadvan­tage, in the Engagement they had with the Carthaginians near Placentia, by reason, that they went on to Charge with their Blood fix'd, and their Limbs Numb'd with Cold, whereas Hannihal had caus'd great Fires to be dispers'd quite through his Camp to warm his Souldiers, and Oil to be distributed amongst them; to the end, that Anointing themselves, they might render their Nerves more Supple and Active, and sortifie the Pores against the [Page 358] violence of the Air, and Freezing Wind, that Rag'd in that Season. The Retreat the Greeks made from Babylon into their own Country, is Famous, for the Difficulties and Calamities they had to overcome. Of which, this was one, that being Encounter'd in the Mountains of Armenia, with a horrible Storm of Snow, they lost all knowledge of the Country, and of the ways, and being driven up, were a Day and a Night without Eating or Drinking; most of their Cattel died, many of themselves Star­ved Dead, several struck Blind with the dri­ving, and the glittering of the Snow, many of them Maim'd in their Fingers and Toes, and many Stiff and Motionless with the extremity of the Cold, who had yet their Understanding entire. Alexander saw a Nation, where they Bury the Fruit-Trees is Winter, to defend them from being destroy'd by the Frost, and we also may see the same. But concerning Cloaths, the King of Mexico chang'd four times a Day his Apparel, and never put them on more, employing those he left off, in his continual Liberalities and Rewards, as also, neither Pot, Dish, nor other Utensil of his Kitchen, or Table, was ever serv'd in Twice.

I Am not guilty of the Common Errour of judging another by my self I easily believe that in anothers Humour that is contrary to my own: and though I find my self engag'd to one certain Form, I do not oblige others to it as many do; but believe and apprehend a Thousand ways of Living, and contrary to most Men, more easily admit of Differences than Uniformity amongst us. I as frankly, as any one would have me, discharge a Man from my Humours and Principles, and consider him according to his own particular Model. Though I am not continent my self, I never­theless sincerely Love, and approve the Con­tinency of the Capuchins, and other Religious Orders, and highly commend their way of Living. I insinuate my self by imagination into their Place and Love, and Honour them the more, for being other than I am. I very much desire, that we may be Censur'd every Man by himself, and would not be drawn in to the consequence of common Examples. My Weakness does nothing alter the Esteem I ought to have of the force and vigour of those who deserve it. Sunt qui nihil suadent, quam quod se imitari posse confidunt. Cicero de Or. ad. There are who persuade nothing but what they believe they can imitate themselves. Crawling upon the [Page 360] Slime of the Earth, I do not for all that cease to Observe up in the Clouds the inimitable height of some Heroick Souls: 'tis a great deal for me to have my Judgment regular and right, if the effects cannot be so, and to maintain this Soveraign part at least free from Corruption: 'tis something to have my Will right and good, where my Legs fail me. This Age wherein we Live in our part of the World at least, is grown so stupid, that not only Exercise, but the very Imagination of Vertue is defective, and seems to be no other but College-Fashion.

Quam vereri deberent, etiam si percipere non possent. Which they ought to Reverence, Cicero Tus. 1. though they cannot Comprehend. 'Tis a Gew-gaw to hang in a Ca­binet, or at the end of the Tongue, as on the tip of the Ear, for Ornament only. There is no more Vertuous Actions exstant, and those Actions that carry a shew of Vertue, have yet nothing of its Essence; by reason, that Profit, Glory, Fear and Custom, and other such like foreign Causes, put us in the way to produce them. Our Justice also, Valour, and good Offices, may then be call'd so too, in re­spect to others, and according to the face [Page 361] they appear with to the Publick; but in the doer it can by no means be Vertue, because there is another end propos'd, another mov­ing cause. Now vertue owns nothing to be hers, but what is done by her self, and for her self alone. In that great Battel of Potidaea, that the Greeks under the Command of Pau­sanias obtain'd against Mardonius, and the Persians, the Conquerours, according to their Custom, coming to divide amongst them the Glory of the Exploit, they attributed to the Spartan Nation the Preheminence of Valour in this Engagement. The Spartans, great Judges of Vertue, when they came to deter­mine, to what particular Man of their Na­tion the Honour was due, of having the best Behav'd himself upon this occasion, found, that Aristodemus had of all others hazarded his Person with the greatest Bravery: but did not however allow him any Prize, or Re­ward; by reason that his Vertue had been incited by a desire, to clear his Reputation from the Reproach of his Miscarriage at the Business of Thermopylae, and with a desire to Die Bravely, to wipe off that former Blemish. Our Judgments are yet sick, and Obey the Humour of our deprav'd Manners. I Observe most of the Wits of these Times pretend to Ingenuity, by endeavouring to blemish and to darken the Glory of the Bravest and most Generous Actions of former Ages, putting one Vile Interpretation or another upon them, and forging and supposing vain Causes and Motives for those Noble things they did. [Page 362] A mighty subtilty indeed? Give me the greatest and most unblemish'd Action that ever the Day beheld, and I will contrive a Hundred plausible Drifts and Ends to obscure it: God knows, whoever will stretch them out to the full, what diversity of Images our internal Wills do suffer under; they do not so Ma­liciously play the Censurers, as they do it Ignorantly and Rudely in all their Detracti­ons. The same pains and licence that others take to Blemish and Bespatter these illustrious Names, I would willingly undergo to lend them a shoulder to raise them higher. These rare Images, and that are cull'd out by the consent of the wisest Men of all Ages, for the Worlds Example, I should endeavour to Ho­nour anew, as far as my Invention would per­mit, in all the Circumstances of favourable Interpretation. And we are to believe, that the force of our Invention is infinitely short of their Merit. 'Tis the Duty of good Men to Pourtray Vertues as Beautiful as they can, and there would be no Indecency in the Case, should our Passion a little Transport us in fa­vour of so Sacred a Form. What these Peo­ple do to the contrary, they either do out of Malice, or by the Vice of confining their Be­lief to their own Capacity; or, which I am more inclin'd to think, for not having their sight strong, clear and elevated enough, to conceive the splendour of Vertue in her Na­tive Purity: As Plutarch complains, that in his time some Attributed the cause of the Younger Cato's Death, to his Fear of Caesar, [Page 363] at which he seems very Angry, and with good reason: and by that a Man may guess how much more he would have been offended with those, who have Attributed it to Ambi­tious Senceless People! He would rather have perform'd a handsome, just and generous Action, and to have had Ignominy for his Re­ward, than for Glory. That Man was in truth a Pattern, that Nature chose out to shew to what height Humane Vertue and Constancy could arrive: but I am not capable of hand­ling so Noble an Argument, and shall therefore only set five Latin Poets together by the Ears, who has done best in the praise of Cato; and inclusively for their own too. Now a Man well Read in Poetry, will think the two first, in comparison of the others, a little Flat and Languishing; the Third more Vigorous, but overthrown by the Extravagancy of his own force. He will then think, that there will be yet room for one or two Gradations of Invention to come to the Fourth; but coming to mount the pitch of that, he will lift up his Hands for admiration; the last, the first by some space, (but a space that he will swear is not to be fill'd up by any Humane Wit,) he will be astonish'd, he will not know where he is. These are Wonders. We have more Poets, than Judges and Interpreters of Poetry. It is easier to Write an indifferent Poem, than to understand a good one. There is indeed a certain low and moderate sort of Poetry, that a Man may well enough judge by certain Rules of Art; but the true, supream [Page 364] and divine Poesie, is equally above all Rules and Reason. And whoever discerns the Beauty of it, with the most assured and most steady sight, sees no more than the quick reflection of a Flash of Lightning. This is a sort of Poesie, that does not exercise, but ravishes and overwhelms our Judgment. The Fury that possesses him who is able to penetrate into it, wounds yet a Third Man by hearing him re­peat it. Like a Loadstone, that not only at­tracts the Needle, but also infuses into it the Vertue to attract others. And it is more evi­dently Eminent upon our Theatres, that the Sacred Inspiration of the Muses, having first stirr'd up the Poet to Anger, Sorrow, Hatred, and out of himself, to whatever they will, does moreover by the Poet possess the Actor, and by the Actor consecutively all the Specta­tors. So much do our Passions hang and de­pend upon one another. Poetry has ever had that power over me from a Child, to Trans­pierce and Transport me: But this quick re­sentment that is Natural to me, has been va­riously handled by Variety of Forms, not so much higher and lower, (for they were ever the highest of every kind,) as differing in Co­lour. First, a Gay and Spritely Fluency, af­terwards a Lofty and Penetrating Subtilty; and lastly, a Mature and Constant Force. Their Names will better express them; Ovid, Lucan, Virgil. But our Poets are beginning their Career.

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

And the Master of the Quire, after having set forth all the great Names of the greatest Ro­mans, ends thus.

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

When Pompey's Head was presented to Caesar, the Histories tell us, that he turn'd away his Face, as from a sad and unpleasing Object. [Page 367] There had been so long an intelligence and So­ciety betwixt them, in the management of the Publick Affairs, so great a Community of For­tunes, so many mutual Offices, and so near an Alliance, that this Countenance of his ought not to suffer under any Misinterpretation; or to be suspected for either False or Counterfeit, as this other seems to believe:

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

so is it, that in judging of these Accidents, we are to consider how much our souls are [Page 368] oft-times agitated with divers Passions. And as they say, that in our Bodies there is a Con­gregation of divers Humours, of which, that is the Soveraign, which according to the Complexion we are of, is commonly most predominant in us: So, though the Soul have in it divers motions to give it Agita­tion; yet must there of necessity be one to over-rule all the rest, though not with so ne­cessary and absolute a Dominion, but that through the Flexibility and Inconstancy of the Soul, those of less Authority, may upon oc­casion, reassume their place, and make a little Sally in turn. Thence it is, that we see not only Children, who Innocently Obey, and follow Nature, often Laugh and Cry at the same thing: but not one of us can boast, what Journey soever he may have in hand, that he has the most set his Heart upon, but when he comes to part with his Family and Friends, he will find something that troubles him with­in; and though he refrain his Tears, yet he puts Foot i'th' Stirrup, with a Sad and Cloudy Countenance, and what gentle Flame soever may have warm'd the Heart of Modest, and Well-Born Virgins, yet are they fain to be forc'd from about their Mothers Necks, to be put to Bed to their Husbands, whatever this Boon Companion is pleas'd to say:

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

Just so the Soul variously and interceptibly darts out her Passions. Artabarus surprising once his Nephew Xerxes, Chid him for the sudden alteration of his Countenance. As he was considering the immeasurable Greatness of his Forces passing over the Hellespont, for the Grecian Expedition, he was first seiz'd with a palpitation of Joy, to see so many Millions of Men under his Command, which also appear'd in the gayety of his Looks: But his Thoughts at the same instant suggesting to him, that of so many Lives, once in an Age at most, there would not be one left, he presently Knit his Brows, and grew Sad, even to Tears. We have resolutely pursu'd the Revenge of an In­jury receiv'd, and been sensible of a singular Contenement for the Victory: But we shall Weep notwithstanding: 'tis not for the Victo­ry, though that we shall Weep: there is no­thing alter'd by that: but the Soul looks upon things with another Eye, and represents them to it self with another kind of Face; for eve­ry thing has many Faces, and several Aspects. Relations, old Acquaintance, and Friendships, possess our Imaginations, and make them ten­der [Page 371] for the time: but the Counterturn is so quick, that 'tis gone in a Moment.

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

LEt us pretermit that old comparison be­twixt the active, and the solitary life, and as for the fine saying, with which Ambiti­on and Avarice palliate their vices, That we are not born for our selves, but for the publick, let, us boldly appeal to those who are most in­terested in publick affairs, let them lay their [Page 372] hand upon their Hearts, and then say, whe­ther on the contrary, they do not rather a­spire to Titles and Offices, and that tumult of the World to make their private advantage at the publick expence. But we need not ask them the question; for the corrupt ways by which they arrive at the height to which their ambitions aspire, does manifestly enough declare that their ends cannot be very good. Let us then tell Ambition, that it is she her self who gives us a taste of Solitude; for what does she so much avoid as Society? What does she so much seek as Elbow-room? A man may do well, or ill every where: but if what Bias says be true, that the greatest part is the worse, or what the Preacher says, that there is not one good of a thousand:

the contagion is very dangerous in the Crown. A man must either imitate the vicious, or hate them: Both are dangerous, either to resemble them, because they are many, or to hare many, because they are unresembling. And Merchants that go to Sea are in the right when they are cautious that those who embark with them in the same bottom, be neither dis­solute Blasphemers, nor vicious otherways; looking upon such society as unfortunate. And [Page 373] therefore it was, that Bias pleasantly said to some, who being with him in adangerous storm, implor'd the assistance of the Gods, Peace, speak softly, said he, that they may not know you are here in my company: And of more pressing example. Albuquerque Vice Roy in the Indies, for Emanuel King of Portugal, in an extream peril of Shipwrack, took a young Boy upon his Shoulders, for this only end, that in the Society of their common danger, his innocen­cy might serve to protect him, and to recom­mend him to the Divine favour, that they might get safe to Shoar: 'Tis not that a Wise Man may not live every where content, either alone, or in the crowd of a Palace: But if it be left to his one choice, he will tell you, that he would fly the very sight of the latter; he can endure it if need be; but if it be referred to him, he will choose the first. He cannot think himself sufficiently rid of Vice, if he must yet contend with it in other Men: Cha­rondas Punisht those for ill Men, who were Convict of keeping of ill Company. There is nothing so Unsociable, and Sociable, as Man, the one by his Vice, the other by his Na­ture. And Antisthenes in my opinion, did not give him a satisfactory Answer, who Re­proach'd him with frequenting ill Company, by saying, That the Physicians Liv'd well enough amongst the Sick: for if they contribute to the health of the Sick, no doubt, but by the Con­tagion, continual sight of, and familiarity with Diseases, they must of necessity impair their own. Now the end I suppose is all one, [Page 374] to Live at more leisure, and at greater ease: but Men do not always take the right way; for they often think they have totally taken leave of all Business, when they have only exchang'd one Employment for another. There is little less trouble in Governing a pri­vate Family, than a whole Kingdom: where­ever the Mind is perplex'd, it is in an entire disorder, and Domestick Employments are not less troublesome, for being less important. Moreover, for having shak'd off the Court, and Publick Employments, we have not taken leave of the principal Vexations of Life.

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

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

One telling Socrates, that such a one was no­thing [Page 375] Improv'd by his Travels. I very well believe it, said he, for he took himself along with him.

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

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

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

and therefore is to be call'd home, and confin'd within it self; that is the true Solitude, and that [Page 377] may be enjoy'd even in Populous Cities, and the Courts of Kings, though more commodi­ously a part.

Now since we will attempt to Live alone, and to wave all manner of Conversation a­mongst Men, let us so Order it, that our Contentation may depend wholly upon our selves, and dissolve all Obligations that Ally us to others: Let us obtain this from our selves that we may Live alone in good earnest, and Live at our ease too. Stilpo having escap'd from the Fire that Consum'd the City where he Liv'd, and where he had his Wife, Children, Goods, and all that ever he was Master of, destroy'd by the Flame; Demetrius Poliorcetes seeing him in so great a Ruine of his Country, appear with so Serene and Undisturb'd a Countenance, ask'd him, if he had receiv'd no Loss? To which he made Answer, No; and that, thanks be to God, nothing was lost of his; which al­so was the meaning of the Philosopher Antisthe­nes, when he pleasantly said, That Men should only furnish themselves with such things as would Swim, and might with the Owner escape the Storm; and certainly, a Wise Man never loses any thing, if he have himself. When the City of Nola was Ruin'd by the Barbarians, Paulinus, who was Bishop of that place, ha­ving there lost all he had, and himself a Priso­ner, Pray'd after this manner, O Lord, defend me from being sensible of this Loss; for thou know­est, they have yet touch'd nothing of that which is mine; The Riches that made him Rich, and the Goods that made him Good, were still [Page 378] kept entire. This it is to make choice of Treasures, that can secure themselves from Plunder and Violence, and to hide them in such a place, into which no one can enter, and that are not to be betray'd by any but our selves. Wives, Children and Goods, must be had, and especially Health, by him that can get it; but we are not so to set our Hearts upon them, that our Happiness must have its dependance upon any of these; we must reserve a Back-shop, a Withdrawing Room, wholly our own, and entirely free wherein to settle our true Liberty, our principal Solitude and Re­treat. And in this, we must for the most part entertain our selves with our selves, and so privately, that no Knowledge, or Communi­cation, of any Exotick Concern, be admit­ted there, there to Laugh and to Talk, as if without Wife, Children, Goods, Train, or Attendance, to the end, that when it shall so fall out, that we must lose any, or all of these, it may be no new thing to be without them. We have a Mind pliable of it self, that will be Company, has wherewithal to attack, and to defend, to receive, and to give: Let us not then fear in this Solitude, to Languish under an uncomfortable Vacancy.

Vertue is satisfied with her self, without Dis­cipline, without Words, without Effects. In [Page 379] our ordinary actions, there is not one of a thousand that concerns our selves: He that thou seest Scambling up the Ruines of that Wall, Furious, and Transported, against whom so many Harquebuze Shot are levell'd; and that other all over Scars, Pale, and Faint­ing with Hunger, and yet resolv'd rather to Die, than to open his Gate to HIm, dost thou think that these Men are there upon their own account? No, peradventure in the behalf of one whom they never saw, and that never concerns himself for their Pains, and Danger, but lies Wallowing the while in Slouth, and Pleasure: This other Slavering, Blear-eyed, Slovenly Fellow, that thou seest come out of his Study after Midnight, dost thou think he has been Tumbling over Books, to Learn how to become a better Man, Wiser, and more Content: No such matter, he will there end his Days, but he will teach Posterity the measure of Plautus his Verses, and the Orthography of a Latin Word: Who is it that does not Voluntarily exchange his Health, his Repose, and his very Life for Reputation, and Glory? The most Useless, Frivolous, and false Coin that pas­ses currant amongst us: Our own Death does not sufficiently terrifie, and trouble us, let us moreover charge our selves, with those of our Wives, Children, and Family: Our own af­fairs do not afford us anxiety enough, let us un­dertake those of our Neighbours, and Friends, still more to break our Brains, and torment us.

Solitude seems to me to have the best pretence, in such as have already employed their most active and flourishing age in the World's ser­vice; by the example of Thales. We have lived enough for others, let us at least Live out the small Remnant of Life for our Selves; let us now call in our Thoughts, and Intenti­ons to our Selves, and to our own Ease, and Repose: 'Tis no light thing to make a sure Retreat, it will be enough to do without mix­ing other Enterprises, and Designs, since God gives us leisure to prepare for, and to order our Remove, let us make Ready, Truss our Baggage, take leave betimes of the Company, let us disentangle our selves from those violent importunities that engage us elsewhere, and separate us from our Selves: We must break the Knot of our Obligations, how strong soever, and hereafter Love this, or that; but espouse nothing, but our Selves: That is to say, let the remainder be our own, but not so joyn'd and so close, as not to be forc'd away with­out slaying us, or tearing part of the whole piece. The greatest thing in the World is for a Man to know that he is his own: 'Tis time to wean our Selves from Society, when we can no more add any thing to it; and who is not in a Condition to Lend, must forbid himself to Borrow. Our Forces begin to fail us, and are of [Page 381] no more use for Foreign Offices; let us call them in, and Lock them up at Home; He that can within himself cast off, and Disband the Offices of so many Friendships, and that tu­mult of Conversation he has contracted in the busie World, let him do it: In this decay of nature, which renders him Useless, Burthen­some, and importunate to others, let him have a care of being Useless, Burthensome, and Importunate to himself: Let him Sooth, and Caress himself, and above all things be sure to Govern himself with Reverence to his Reason, and Conscience to that Degree, as to be asham'd to make a false step in their Presence. Rarum est enim, Pythag. ut satis se quisque vereatur. For 'tis rarely seen that Men have Respect, and Reverence enough for themselves. Socrates says, that Boys are to cause themselves to be in­structed, Men to Exercise themselves in well doing, and Old Men to retire from all Civil, and Military employments, living at their own Discretion, without the Obligation to any certain Office. There are some Complexions more proper for these Precepts of Retirement, than others, such as are of a Soft and Faint ap­prehension, and of a tender Will, and Affecti­on, as I am, will sooner encline to this Advice, than Active and Busie Souls; which embrace all, engage in all, and are hot upon every thing, who offer, present, and give themselves up to every occasion. We are to serve ourselves with these accidental and extraneous things; so far as they are pleasant to us, but by no means to lay our principal Foundation [Page 382] there. This is no true one, neither Nature, nor Reason, can allow it so to be, and why therefore should we contrary to their Laws, enslave our own contentment, by giving it in­to the power of another: To anticipate also the accidents of Fortune, and to deprive ourselves of those things we have in our own power, as several have done upon the account of Devotion, and some Philosophers by dis­course; to serve a Mans self, to lie hard, to put out our own Eyes, throw Wealth into the River, and to seek our Grief, (the one by the uneasiness, and misery of this Life, to pretend to bliss in another; the other by laying them­selves low to avoid the Danger of falling) are acts of an excessive Nature. The Stoutest, and most obstinate Natures, render even their most abstruse retirements Glorious, and Ex­emplary.

A great deal less would serve my turn well e­nough. [Page 383] 'Tis enough for me under Fortunes favour to prepare my self for her Disgrace, and being at my ease to represent to my self, as far as my imagination can Stretch, the ill to come; as we do at Justs, and Tiltings, where we counterfeit War in the greatest Calm of Peace. I do not think Arcesilaus the Philoso­pher the less Temperate, and Reform'd, for knowing that he made use of Gold, and Silver Vessels, when the condition of his Fortune al­low'd him so to do: But have a better Opinion of him, than if he had deni'd himself what he us'd with Liberality, and Moderation. I see the utmost Limits of Natural necessity, and considering a Poor Man Begging at my Door, of-times more Jocund, and more Healthy than I my self am, I put my self into his place, and attempt to dress my Mind after his Mode, and running in like manner over other exam­ples, though I fansie Death, Poverty, Con­tempt, and Sickness treading on my Heels, I easily resolve not to be affrighted, forasmuch as a less than I takes them with so much Pati­ence, and am not willing to believe that a less understanding can do more than a greater; or that the effects of precept cannot arrive to as great a height, as those of Custom: And knowing of how uncertain duration these acci­dental conveniences are, I never forget, in the height of all my enjoyments, to make it my chiefest Prayer to Almighty God, that he will please to render me content with my self; and the Condition wherein I am. I see several Young Men very Gay, and Frolick; who ne­vertheless [Page 384] keep a Mass of Pills in their Trunk at home, to take when the Rheum shall fall, which they fear so much the less, because they think they have Remedy at hand: Every one should do the same, and moreover if they find themselves subject to some more violent Dis­ease, should furnish themselves with such Me­dicines as may Numb and Stupisie the part: The employment a Man should choose for a Sedentary Life, ought neither to be a Labori­ous, nor an unpleasing one, otherwise 'tis to no purpose at all to be retir'd, and this de­pends upon every ones liking, and humour; mine has no manner of complacency for Hus­bandry, and such as Love it, ought to apply themselves to it with Moderation.

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

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

It appears to be reason, when a Man talks of Retiring from the World, that he should look quite out of himself. These do it but by halves. They design well enough for themselves, 'tis true, when they shall be no more in it; but still they pretend to extract the fruits of that Design from the World, when absented from it, by a Ridiculous Con­tradiction. The Imagination of those who seek Solitude, upon the account of De­votion, filling their Hopes with certainty of [Page 386] Divine Promises in the other Life, is much more rationally founded. They propose to themselves Gods, an infinite Object in Goodness and Power. The Soul has there wherewithal, at full liberty, to satiate her Desires. Afflicti­ons and Sufferings turn to their advantage, be­ing undergone for the acquisition of an eternal Health, and everlasting Joys. Death is to be wish'd and long'd for, where it is the pas­sage to so perfect a Condition. And the Tartness of these severe Rules they impose up­on themselves, is immediately taken away by Custom, and all their Carnal Appetites baffled and subdu'd, by refusing to humour and feed them; they being only supported by use and exercise. This sole end therefore, of ano­ther happy and immortal Life, is that which really merits, that we should abandon the Plea­sures and conveniences of this. And who can really and constantly enflame his Soul with the Ardour of this Lively Faith and Hope, does erect for himself in this Solitude, a more Voluptuous and Delicious Life, than any o­ther sort of Living whatever. Neither the end then, nor the means of this Advice, of Pliny pleases me, for we often fall out of the Fry­ing-pan into the Fire. This Book Employ­ment is as painful as any other, and as great an Enemy to Health, which ought to be the first thing in every Man's prospect; neither ought a Man to be allur'd with the pleasure of it, which is the same that destroys the Wary, Avaritious, Voluptuous and Ambitious Men. The Wise give us Caution enough, to beware [Page 387] the Treachery of our Desires, and to distin­guish true and entire Pleasures, from such as are mix'd and complicated with greater Pain. For the greatest part of Pleasures, (say they,) Wheedle and Caress, only to strangle us, like those Thieves the Egyptians call'd Philiste; and if the Head-Ach should come before Drunken­ness, we should have a care of Drinking too much: but Pleasure to deceive us, Marches be­fore, and conceals her Train. Books are pleasant, but if by being over Studious, we impair our Health, and spoil our good Hu­mour, two of the best pieces we have, let us give it over; for I for my part am one of those who think, that no Fruit deriv'd from them, can recompence so great a Loss. As Men who feel themselves weakned by a long Series of Indisposition, give themselves up at last to the Mercy of Medicine, and submit to certain Rules of Living, which they are for the future never to Transgress; so he who Retires, weary of, and disgusted, with the common way of Living, ought to model this new One he enters into, by the Rules of Rea­son, and to Institute and Establish it by Pre­meditation, and after the best Method he can contrive. He ought to have taken leave of all sorts of Labour, what advantage soever he may propose to himself by it, and generally to have shaken off all those Passions which disturb the Tranquility of Body and Soul, and then choose the Way that best suits with his own Humour:

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

Wiser Men propose to themselves a Repose wholly Spiritual, as having great force and vigour of Mind; but for me, who have a very ordinary Soul, I find it very necessary, to sup­port my self with Bodily Conveniences; and Age having of late depriv'd me of those Plea­sures [Page 389] that were most acceptable to me, I in­struct and whet my Appetite to those that re­main, and are more suitable to this other sea­son. We ought to hold with all our force, both of Hands and Teeth, the use of the Plea­sures of Life, that our Years, one after ano­ther, snatch away from us.

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

They are only Retir'd to take a better Leap, and by a stronger Motion, to give a brisker Charge into the Crowd. Will you see how they shoot short? Let us put into the Counterpoise the Advice of two Philosophers, of two very different Sects, Writing, the [Page 390] one to Idomeneus, the other to Lucilius, their Friends, to Retire into Solitude from World­ly Honours, and the Administration of Pub­lick Affairs. You have, say they, hitherto Liv'd Swimming and Floating, come now, and Die in the Harbour: You have given the first part of your Life to the Light, give what remains to the Shade. It is impossible to give over Business, if you do not also quit the Fruit, and therefore disengage your selves from all the Concerns of Name and Glo­ry. 'Tis to be fear'd, the Lustre of your for­mer Actions will give you but too much Light, and follow you into your most private, and most obscure Retreat: Quit with other Plea­sures, that which proceeds from the Appro­bation of another: And as to your Know­ledge and Parts, never concern your selves, they will not lose their effect, if your selves be ever the better for them. Remember him, who being ask'd, why he took so much Pains in an Art, that could come to the Knowledge of but few Persons? A few are enough for me, reply'd he, I have enough of one, I have enough of never a one. He said true, you, and a Companion, are Theatre enough to one another, or you to your self. Let us be to you the whole People, and the whole People to you but one: 'Tis an unworthy Ambition, to think to derive Glory from a Man's Sloath and Privacy: You are to do like the Beasts of Chace, who put out the Track at the en­trance into their Den. You are no more to concern your self, how the World talks of [Page 391] you, but how you are to talk to your self: Retire your self into your self, but first pre­pare your self there to receive your self: It were a folly to trust your self in your own Hands, if you cannot Govern your self, a Man may as well miscarry alone, as in Company, till you have rendred your self as such, as be­fore whom you dare not Trip and till you have a Bashfulness and Respect for your self, Observantur species honestae animo, Cicero Tusc. Quaest. 1, 2. Let just and honest things be still Represented to the Mind. Present continually to you Imagination, Cato, Phocion and Aristides, in whose presence, the Fools themselves will hide their Faults; and make them Controulers of all your Intentions. Should they deviate from Vertue, your Respect to them will again set you right; they will keep you in the way of being Contented with your self, to Borrow nothing of any other but your self; to restrain and fix your Soul in certain and limited Thoughts, wherein she may please her self, and having understood the true and real Goods, which Men the more en­joy, the more they understand, to rest satisfied, without desire of prolongation of Life or Me­mory. This is the Precept of the True and Natural Philosophy, not of a Boasting and Prating Philosophy, such as that of the two former.

ONe Word more by way of Comparison, betwixt these two. There are to be gather'd out of the Writings of Cicero, and this Younger Pliny, (but little in my opinion, resembling his Uncle in his Humour,) infinite Testimonies of a beyond measure, Ambitious Nature; and amongst others, this for one, that they both, in the sight of all the World, solicite the Historians of their time, not to forget them in their Memoirs; and Fortune, as if in spite, has made the Vacancy of those Requests Live upon Record down to this Age of ours, when she has long since Damn'd the Histories themselves to Oblivion. But this exceeds all meanness of Spirit in Persons of such Quality, as they were, to think to de­rive any great and living Renown from Ba­bling and Prating; even to the Publishing of their private Letters to their Friends, and so withal, that though some of them were never sent, the opportunity being lost, they never­theless expose them to the light, with this worthy excuse, that they were hereafter un­willing to lose their Labours, and have their Lucubrations thrown away. Was it not very well becoming two Consuls of Rome, Soveraign Magistrates of the Republick that Command­ed the World, to spend their time in contri­ving Quaint and Elegant Missives, thence to [Page 393] gain the Reputation of being Criticks, in their own Mother Tongues: What could a pitiful School-master have done worse, whose trade it was to get his Living? If the Acts of Xeno­phon, and Caesar, had not far enough tran­scended their Eloquence, I scarce believe they would ever have taken the pains to have writ them. They made it their business to recom­mend not their Speaking, but their doing. And could the perfection of eloquence have added any lustre proportionable to the merit of a great Person, certainly Scipio, and Laelius, had never resigned the honour of their Come­dies, with all the luxuriances, and delicacies of the Latine Tongue, to an African Slave; for that, that work was theirs, the Beauty and Excellency of it do sufficiently declare; besides, Terence himself confesses as much, and I should take it ill from any one, that would dispossess me of that belief. 'Tis a kind of injurious Mockery, and Offence, to extol a Man for Qualities, misbecoming his Merit, and Con­dition, though otherwise commendable in themselves, but such as ought not however to be his chiefest Talent: As if a Man should commend a King, for being a good Painter, a good Architect, a good Marks-man, or a good Runner at the Ring; commendations that add no Honour, unless mentioned altoge­ther, and in the train of those that are more properly applicable to him, namely, his Justice, and the Science of governing, and conducting his People both in Peace, and War. At this rate agriculture was an Honour to Cyrus, and [Page 392] [...] [Page 393] [...] [Page 394] Eloquence, and the knowledge of good Letters to Charlemaigne. I have in my time known some, who by that Knack of Writing, have got both their Titles, and Fortune, disown their Apprenticeage, purposely corrupt their Stile, and affect ignorance in so vulgar a quality, (which also our Nation observes, to be rarely seen in very intelligent hands) to seek a reputation by better qualities. De­mosthenes his Companions in the Embassy to Philip, extolling that Prince for Handsome, Eloquent, and a Stout Drinker, Demosthenes reply'd, that those were commendations more proper for a Woman, an Advocate, or a Spunge, than for a King.

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

Plutarch says moreover, that to appear so ex­cellent in these less necessary Qualities, is to produce Witness against a Mans self, that he [Page 395] has spent his time, and apply'd his Study ill, which ought to have been employ'd in the acquisition of more necessary, and more useful things, so that Philip King of Macedon, ha­ving heard that Great Alexander his Son, Sing once at a Feast to the Wonder, and Envy of the best Musicians there: Art not thou asham'd said he to him, to Sing so well? And to the same Philip a Musician, with whom he was dis­puting about some things concerning his Art: Heav'n forbid! Sir, said he, that so great a misfortune should ever befal you, as to understand these things better than I. A King should be able to answer as Iphicrates did the Orator, who prest upon him in his invective after this manner: And what art thou, that thou brav'st it at this rate? art thou a Man at Arms, art thou an Archer, art thou a Pike? I am none of all this; but I know how to Command all these. And Antisthenes took it for an argument of little Valour, in Ismenas, that he was commended for Playing excellently well upon a Flute. I know very well, that when I hear any one insist upon the Language of Essays, I had rather a great deal he would say nothing. 'Tis not so much to elevate the Stile as to depress the Sence, and so much the more offensively, as they do it Disgracefully, and out of the Way. I am much deceived if many other Essayists, deliver more worth no­thing as to the matter, and how well, or ill soever, if any other Writer has strewed them either much more Material, or thicker upon his Paper than my self. To bring the more [Page 396] in, I only Muster up the Heads, should I an­nex the sequel, I should strangely Multiply this Volume: And how many Stories have I Seat­tered up and down, in this Book, that I only touch upon, which should any one more cu­riously search into, they would find matter e­nough to produce infinite Essays: Neither those Stories, nor my allegations do always serve simply for Example, Authority, or Or­nament, I do not only regard them for the use I make of them: They carry sometimes be­sides what I apply them to, the seed of a more Rich, and a Bolder matter, and sometimes collaterally a more delicate Sound both to me my self, who will express no more in this Place, and to others who shall happen to be of my Ear.

But returning to the speaking vertue; I find no great choice betwixt, not knowing to speak any thing but very ill, and not know­ing to speak any thing but very well. Non est ornamentum virile concinnitas. Sen. Ep. 6. Neatness of Stile, is no Manly Ornament. The Sages tell us, that as to what concerns Knowledge, there is nothing but Philosophy; and to what concerns effects, nothing but vertue, that is generally proper to all Degrees, and to all orders. There is something like this in these two other Philosophers, for they also promise Eternity, to the Letters they Write to their Friends; but 'tis after another manner, and by accommodating themselves, for a good end, to the vanity of another; for they Write to them, that if the concern of making themsel­ves [Page 397] known to future Ages, and the Thirst of Glory, do yet detain them in the management of publick affairs, and make them fear the Solitude, and Retirement to which they would persuade them; let them never trouble them­selves more about it, forasmuch as they shall have Credit enough with Posterity to assure them, that were there nothing else but the very Letters thus Writ to them, those Let­ters will render their names as known, and famous as their own publick actions themsel­ves could do. And besides this difference, these are not Idle, and empty Letters, that contain nothing but a fine Gingle of well cho­sen Words, and fine Couch'd Phrases, but ra­ther repleat, and abounding with Grave, and Learn'd Discourses, by which a Man may ren­der himself not more Eloquent but more Wise, and that instruct us not to speak, but to do well: A way with that Eloquence that so en­chants us with its Harmony, that we should more Study it than things. Unless you will allow that of Cicero, to be of so Supream a perfection, as to form a compleat Body of it self: And of him I shall further add one Story, we read of him to this purpose, where­in his nature will much more manifestly be laid open to us: He was to make an Oration in publick, and found himself a little strait­ned in time, to fit his Words to his Mouth, as he had a mind to do; when Eros one of his Slaves brought him word, that the audience was deferr'd till the next Day, at which he was so ravish'd with Joy, that he enfranchis'd him for the good news.

[Page 398] Upon this Subject of Letters, I will add this more to what has been already said, that it is a kind of Writing, wherein my Friends think I can do something; and I am willing to con­fess, I should rather have chose to publish my Whimsies that way, than any other, had I had to whom to Write; but I wanted such a settled Corrsepondency, as I once had to attract me to it, to raise my Fancy, and maintain the rest against me. For to Traffick with the Wind, as some others have done, and to Forge vain Names to direct my Letters to, in a serious subject, I could never do it but in a Dream, be­ing a sworn Enemy to all manner of falsifica­tion: I should have been more diligent, and more confidently secure, had I had a Judicious and Indulgent Friend, to whom to address, than thus to expose my self to various judg­ments of a whole People, and I am deceiv'd if I had not succeeded better: I have na­turally a Comick, and familiar Stile; but it is a peculiar one, and not proper for Publick business, but like the Language I speak, too Compact, Irregular, Abrupt, and Singular; and as to Letters of Ceremony, that have no other substance, than a fine contexture of cour­teous, and obliging Words, I am wholly to seek, I have neither faculty, nor relish, for those tedious offers of Service, and Affection; I am not good natur'd to that degree, and should not forgive my self, should I offer more, than I intend, which is very remote from the present practice; for there never was so ab­ject, and servile prostitution of tenders of Life, [Page 399] Soul, Devotion, Adoration, Vassal, Slave, and I cannot tell what, as now; all which expressi­ons are so commonly, and so indifferently Post­ed to and fro by every one, and to every one, that when they would profess a greater, and more respective inclination upon more just occasions, they have not where-withal to ex­press it: I hate all air of Flattery to Death, which is the cause that I naturally fall into a Shy, Rough, and Crude way of speaking, that to such as do not know me, may seem a little to relish of disdain: I Honour those most to whom I shew the least Honour, and Re­spect, and where my Soul moves with the greatest Cheerfulness, I easily forget the Cere­monies of Look, and Gesture; I offer my self Faintly, and Bluntly, to them whose I effectu­ally am, and tender my self the least to him, to whom I am the most devoted: Methinks they should read it in my Heart, and that my expression would but injure the Love I have conceived within. To Welcome, take Leave, give Thanks, Accost, offer my Service, and such verbal Formalities, as the Laws of our modern civility enjoyn. I know no Man so stu­pidly unprovided of Language as my self: And have never been employ'd in Writing Letters of Favour, and Recommendation, that he, in whose behalf it was, did not think my media­tion Cold, and Imperfect. The Italians are great Printers of Letters. I do believe I have at least an hundred several Volumes of them; of all which, those of Hannibal Caro, seem to me to be the best: If all the Paper I have [Page 400] Scribled to the Ladies all the time, when my Hand was really prompted by my Passion, were now in being, there might Peradventure be found a Page worthy to be communicated to our young enamorato's, that are Besotted with that Fury. I always Write my Letters Post, and so precipitously, that though I Write an intolerable ill Hand, I rather choose to do it my self, than to imploy another; for I can find none able to follow me, and never transcribe any; but have accustomed the great ones that know me to endure my Blots, and Dashes, and upon Paper without Fold, or Margent. Those that cost me the most Pains, are the worst of mine; when I once begin to draw it in by Head and Shoulders, 'tis a sign that I am not there. I fall too without premeditation, or design, the first word begets the second, and so to the end of the Chapter. The Letters of this Age consist more in fine Foldings, and Prefaces, than matter; whereas I had rather Write two Letters, than Close, and Fold up one, and always assign that employment to some other; as also when the business of my Letter is dispatch'd, I would with all my heart transferr it to another Hand, to add those long Harangues, Offers, and Prayers, that we place at the Bottom, and should be glad that some new custom would discharge us, of that unnecessary trouble; as also of superscribing them with a long Ribble-row of Qualities, and Titles, which for fear of mistakes, I have several times given over Writing, a [...]d especi­ally to Men of the long Robe. There are so [Page 401] many innovations of Offices, that 'tis hard to place so many Titles of Honour in their pro­per, and due order, which also being so dear­ly bought, they are neither to be mistaken, nor omitted without offence. I find the same fault likewise with charging the fronts, and Title Pages of the Books we commit to the Press, with such a clutter of Titles.

MEN (says an ancient Greek Sentence) are tormented with the Opinions they have of things, and not by the things them­selves. It were a great Victory obtain'd for the relief of our miserable Humane Condition, could this proposition be establish'd for certain, and true throughout. For if evils have no admission into us; but by the judgment we our selves make of them, it should seem that it is then in our own power to despise them, or to turn them to good. If things surrender themselves to our mercy, why do we not con­vert, and accommodate them to our advan­tage? If what we call Evil, and Torment, is neither Evil, nor Torment, of it self, but only that our Fancy gives it that Quality, and makes it so, it is in us to change, and alter it, and it being in our own choice, if there be no [Page 402] constraint upon us, we must certainly be very strange Fools, to take Arms for that side which is most offensive to us, and to give Sick­ness, Want, and Contempt, a nauseous taste, if it be in our power to give them a more grateful Relish, and if Fortune simply pro­vide the matter, 'tis for us to give it the form. Now that which we call Evil, is not so of it self, or at least to that degree that we make it; and that it depends upon us, to give it a­nother taste or complexion, (for all comes to one) let us examine how that can be main­tain'd. If the original being of those things we fear, had power to lodge themselves in us, by their own authority, it would then lodge it self alike, and in like manner in all; for Men are all of the same kind, and saving in greater, and less proportions, are all provided with the same untensils and instruments to con­ceive and to judge; but the diversity of opini­ons we have or those things, does clearly evi­dence, that they only enter us by composition▪ One particular Person, peradventure admits them in their true being; but a thousand o­thers give them a new, and contrary being in them. We hold Death, Poverty, and Grief, for our principal Enemies, but this Death which some repute the most dreadful of all dreadful things, who does not know that others call it the only secure Harbour, from the Storms, and Tempests of Life? The Sove­raign good of Nature? The sole Support of Liberty, and the common, and sudden Re­medy of all Evils? And as the one expect it [Page 403] with Fear, and Trembling, the other support it with greater Ease than Life. That Blade complains of its facility,

But let us leave these Glorious Courages. Theodorus answer'd Lysimachus, who threatned to Kill him, Thou wilt do a brave thing, said he, to arrive at the force of a Canthari­des. The greatest part of Philosophers, are observ'd to have either purposely prevented, or hastned, and assisted their own Death. How many ordinary people do we see led to Execution, and that not to a simple Death, but mixt with Shame, and sometimes with grie­vous Torments, appear with such assurance, what through obstinacy, or natural simplicity, that a Man can discover no change from their ordinary condition; Setling their Domestick Affairs, recommending them to their Friends, Singing, Preaching, and Diverting the People so much, as sometimes to Sally into Jests, and to Drink to their Companions, as well as Socrates. One that they were leading to the Gallows, told them they must not carry him through such a Street, lest a Merchant that liv'd there, should arrest him by the way, for an old Debt. Another told the Hangman, he must not touch his Neck, for fear of ma­king him Laugh he was so Ticklish. Another [Page 404] answer'd his Confessor, who promised him he should that day Sup with our Lord. Do you go then, said he, in my Room; for I for my part keep fast to day. Another having call'd for Drink, and the Hangman having Dran [...] first, said he would not Drink after him, for fear of catching the Pox. Every body has heard the Tale of the Picard, to whom being upon the Ladder they presented a Whore, tel­ling him (as our I aw does sometimes permit!) that if he would Marry her, they would save his Life, he having a while considered her, and perceiving that she Halted, Come tye up, tye up, said he, she limps. And they tell ano­ther Story of the same kind, of a fellow in Denmark, who being condemn'd to lose his Head, and the like condition being propos'd to him upon the Scaffold, refus'd it, by rea­son the Maid they offer'd him, had hollow Cheeks, and too sharp a Nose. A Servant at Tholouse being accus'd of Heresie, for the summ of his Belief, referr'd himself to that of his Master, a young Student Prisoner with him, choosing rather to die, than suffer himself to be persuaded, that his Master could erre. We read that of the Inhabitants of Arras, when Lewis the eleventh took that City, a great many let themselves be Hang'd, rather than they would say, God save the King. And a­mongst that mean-soul'd race of Men, the Buffoons, there having been some, who would not leave their Fooling at the very moment of Death. He that the Hangman turn'd off the Ladder cry'd, Launch the Galley, an ordinary [Page 405] foolish saying of his; and the other, whom at the point of Death his Friends having laid up­on a Pallet before the Fire, the Physician ask­ing him where his Pain lay, betwixt the Bench and the Fire, said he, and the Priest, to give him the extream Unction, Groping for his Feet, which his Pain had made him pull up to him, you will find them, said he, at the end of my Legs. To one that being present ex­horted him to recommend himself to God, why, who goes thither? said he, and the o­ther replying, it will presently be your self, if it be his good pleasure; would I were sure to be there by to Morrow Night, said he; do but recommend your self to him said the other, and you will soon be there: I were best then, said he, to carry my recommenda­tions my self. In the Kingdom of Narsingua to this day, the Wives of their Priests, are buried alive with the Bodies of their Husbands; all other Wives are burnt at their Husbands Fu­nerals, which also they do not only constantly, but chearfully undergo: At the death of their King, his Wives, and Concubines, his Favou­rites, all his Officers, and Domestick servants, which make up a great number of people, pre­sent themselves so chearfully to the Fire, where his Body is burnt, that they seem to take it for a singular honour, to accompany their Master in Death. During our late War of Milan, where there hapned so many takings, and re­takings of Towns, the people impatient of so many various changes of Fortune, took such a resolution to die, that I have heard my Fa­ther [Page 406] say, he there saw a List taken of five and twenty masters of Families, that made them­selves away in one weeks time: An accident somewhat resembling that of the Zanthians, who being besieg'd by Brutus, precipitated themselves, Men, Women, and Children, in­to such a furious appetite of dying, that no­thing can be done to evade death, they did not put in practice to avoid life; insomuch, that Brutus had much ado to save but a very small number. Every opinion is of force e­nough, to make it self to be espoused at the expence of life. The first Article of that va­liant Oath, that Greece took, and observ [...]d in the Median War, was that every one should sooner exchange life for death, than their own Laws for those of Persia. What a World of people do we see in the Wars betwixt the Turks, and the Greeks, rather embrace a cruel death, than to uncircumcise themselves to ad­mit of Baptism? An example, of which no sort of Religion is incapable. The Kings of Castile, having Banish [...]d the Iews out of their Domini­ons, Iohn King of Portugal in consideration of eight Crowns a Head, sold them a retirement into his, for a certain limited time; upon con­dition, that the time prefixt coming to expire, they should be gone; and he to furnish them with Shipping, to transport them into Africk. The limited day came, which once laps'd, they were given to understand, that such as were afterwards found in the Kingdom should re­ [...]a [...]n Slaves: Vessels were very slenderly pro­vided, and those who embark'd in them were [Page 407] rudely and villainously used by the Seamen, who besides other indignities, kept them crui­sing upon the Sea, one while forwards and another backwards, till they had spent all their provisions, and were constrain'd to buy of them at so dear rates, and so long withal, that they set them not on Shoar, till they were all stript to their very Shirts. The news of this inhumane usage, being brought to those who remained behind, the greater part of them resolved upon Slavery, and some made a shew of changing Religion. Emanuel the suc­cessor of Iohn, being come to the Crown, first set them at liberty; and afterwards altering his mind, order'd them to depart his Coun­try, assigning three Ports for their Passage. Hoping (says the Bishop Osorius, no contem­tible Latin Historian of these later times) that the favour of the liberty he had given them, having f [...]il'd of converting them to Christianity; yet the difficulty of committing themselves to the mercy of the Mariners, and of abandoning a Country they were now ha­bituated to, and were grown very rich in, to go, and expose themselves in strange and un­known Regions, would certainly do it: But finding himself deceiv'd in his expectation, and that they were all resolv'd upon the Voyage; he cut off two of the three Ports he had pro­mised them, to the end, that the length and incommodity of the passage, might reduce some; or that he might have opportunity, by crouding them all into one place, the more conveniently to execute what he had designed; [Page 408] which was to force all the Children under four­teen years of Age, from the Arms of their Fa­thers and Mothers, to transport them from their sight and conversation, into a place where they might be instructed, and broug [...] up in our Religion. He says that this pro­duc'd a most horrid Spectacle: The natural affection betwixt the Parents and their Chil­dren, and moreover their Zeal to their ancien [...] Belief, contending against this violent De [...]ree Fathers and Mothers were commonly seen ma­king themselves away, and by a yet much more Rigorous Example, precipitating out of Love and Compassion, their young Children in­to Wells and Pits, to avoid the Severity of this Law. As to the remainder of then, the time that had been prefix [...]d being expird, for want of means to transport them, they again return'd into Slavery. Some also turn'd Christians, upon whose Faith, as also that of their Posterity even to this Day, which is a Hundred Years since, few Portuguese can yet re [...]ie or believe them to be real Converts; though Custom, and length of time, are much more powerful Counsellors in such Changes, than all other Constraints whatever. In the Town of Castlenau-Darry, Fifty Hereticks, Albeg [...]is, at one time suffer'd themselves to be Burnt alive in one Fire, rather than they would renounce their Opinions. Quoties n [...] modo ductores nostri, dicit Cicero, sed universi [...] ­tiam exercitus, ad non dubiam mortem concur­rerut? How oft, have not only our Leaders, but whole Armies, run to a certain and ap­parent [Page 409] Death. I have seen an intimate Friend of mine, run headlong upon Death with a real affection, and that was rooted in his heart by divers plausible Arguments, which he would never permit me to dispossess him off, upon the first Honourable occasion that offer'd it self to him, to precipitate himself into it, without any manner of visible reason, with an obstinate and ardent desire of Dying. We have several Examples of our own times of those, even so much as to little Children, who for fear of a Whipping, or some such little thing, have di­spatch'd themselves. And, what shall we not fear (says one of the Ancients to that purpose,) if we dread that, which Cowardise it self has chosen for its refuge? Should I here produce a tedious Catalogue of those of all Sexes and Con­ditions, and of all sorts, even in the most hap­py Ages, who have either with great Constan­cy look'd Death in the Face, or voluntarily sought it; and sought it not only to avoid the Evils of this Life but some, purely to avoid the Satiety of Living; and others, for the hope of a better Condition elsewhere, I should ne­ver have done. Nay, the number is so infi­nite, that in truth, I should have a better Bar­gain on't, to reckon up those who have fear'd it. This one therefore shall serve for all; Pyrrho the Philosopher, being one Day in a Boat, in a very great Tempest, shew'd to those he saw the most affrighted about him, and encourag'd them by the Example of a Hog, that was there, nothing at all concern'd at the Storm. Shall we then dare to say, that this [Page 410] advantage of Reason, of which we so much Boast, and upon the account of which, we think our selves Masters and Emperours, over the rest of the Creatures, was given us for a Tor­ment? To what end serves the Knowledge of things, if it renders us more Unmanly? If we lose the Tranquility and Repose we should enjoy without it? And if it put us into a worse Condition, than Pyrrho's Hog? Shall we em­ploy the Understanding, that was conferr'd upon us for our greatest Good, to our own Ruine? Setting our selves against the design of Nature, and the universal Order of things, which intend, that every one should make use of the Faculties, Members and Means, he has, to his own best Advantage? But it may perad­venture be Objected against me; Your Rule is true enough, as to what concerns Death: But what will you say of Necessity? What will you moreover say of Pain, that Aristippus, Hi­eronymus, and almost all the Wise Men, have reputed the worst of Evils? And those who have deny d it by Word of Mouth, did howe­ver confess it in Effects? Possidonius being ex­treamly Tormented with a Sharp and pain­ful Disease, Pompeius came to Visit him, ex­cusing himself, that he had taken so unseasona­ble a time to come to hear him discourse of Philosophy; God forbid, said Possidonius to him again, that Pain should ever have the power to hinder me from talking, and there­upon fell immediately upon a discourse of the Contempt of Pain: But in the mean time, his own Infirmity was playing its part, and [Page 411] plagu'd him to the purpose; to which he Cry'd out, thou may'st work thy Will Pain, and Torment me with all the power thou hast, but thou shalt never make me say, that thou art an Evil. This Story that they make such a Clutter withal, what is there in it, I fain would know, to the Contempt of Pain? It only Fights it with Words, and in the mean time, if the Shootings and Dolours he felt, did not move him, why did he interrupt his Discourse? Why did he fancy, he did so great a thing, in forbearing to confess it an Evil? All does not here consist in the Imagination, our Fancies may work upon other things: But this here is a certain Science that is playing its part, of which our Senses themselves are judge.

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

A Thousand Beasts, a Thousand Men, are sooner Dead than Threatned. That also which we principally pretend to Fear in Death is Pain, the ordinary fore-runner of it: Yet, if we may believe a Holy Father, Malam mortem non facit, nisi quod sequitur mortem. Nothing makes Death Evil, but what follows it. And I should yet say more probably, that neither that which goes before, nor that which follows after, are at all the appendants of Death: We excuse our selves safely. And I find by experience, that it is rather the im­patience of the Imagination of Death, that makes us impatient of Pain; and that we find it doubly grievous, as it Threa­tens us with Death. But reason accusing our Cowardice, for fearing a thing so sud­den, so inevitable, and so insensible, we take the other as the more excusable pretence. All ills that carry no other danger along with them, but simply the Evils themselves, we despise as things of no danger. The Tooth-Ach, or the Gout, as painful as they are, be­ing yet not reputed Mortal, who reckons them in the Catalogue of Diseases? But let us presuppose, that in Death we principally re­gard [Page 413] the Pain, as also, there is nothing to be fear'd in Poverty, but the Miseries it brings along with it, of Thrist, Hunger, Cold, Heat, Watching, and the other Inconveniencies it makes us suffer, yet still we have nothing to do with any thing but Pain. I will grant, and very willingly, that it is the worst Accident of our Being, (for I am the Man upon Earth, that the most Hates, and avoids it, considering, that hitherto I thank God I have had so little Traffick with it,) but still it is in us, if not to annihilate, at least, to lessen it by Patience, and though the Body should Mutiny, to Maintain the Soul nevertheless in a good Temper. And were it not so, who had ever given Reputation to Vertue, Valour, Force, Magnanimity, and Resolution? where were their parts to be plaid, if there were no pain to be Defi'd? Seneca. A­vida est periculi virtus. Vertue is greedy of danger. Were there no lying upon the hard ground, no enduring, arm'd at all pieces, the Meridional Heats, no feeding upon the flesh of Horses, and Asses, no seeing a Man's self hack'd and hew'd to pieces, no suffering a Bullet to be pull'd out from amongst the shatter'd Bones, the stitching up, cauterising, and searching of Wounds, by what means were the advantage we covet to have over the Vulgar to be ac­quir'd? 'Tis far from flying Evil and Pain, what the Sages say, that of Actions equally good, a Man should most covet to perform that wherein there is greater Labour and Pain. Non est enim hilaritate, Cicero de fin. l. 2. neck lascivia, nec risu, aut joco comite levitatis, sed saepe etiam tristes [Page 414] firmitate, & constantia sunt beati. For Men are not only happy by Mirth and Wantonness, neither by Laughter and Jesting, the Compani­on of Levity: But oft-times, the Graver and more Melancholick sort of Men, reap Felicity from their Steadiness and Constancy. And for this reason, it has ever been impossible to perswade our Fore-fathers, but that the Victo­ries obtain'd by dint of Force, and the hazard of War, were still more Honourable, than those perform'd in great Security, by Stratagem or Practice.

Besides, this ought to be our comfort, that naturally, if the Pain be violent, 'tis but short, and if long, nothing violent, Si gra­vis, Cicero. brevis: si longus, levis. Thou wilt not feel it long, if thou feel'st it too much, it will either put an end to it self, or to thee; if thou canst not support it, it will export thee. Memineris maximos morte finiri; Cloero de fin. parvos multa habere intervalla requietis: mediocrium nos esse dominos: ut si tolerabiles sint, feramus; sin mi­nus, è vita, quum ea non placeat tanquam è thea­tro exeamus. Remember, that great ones are terminated by Death, that small, have long Intermissions of Repose, and that we are Ma­sters of the moderate sort: so that, if tolera­ble, [Page 415] we may bear them, if not, we can go out of Life, as from a Theatre, where the En­tertainment does not please us; that which makes us suffer Pain with so much Impatience, is the not being accustomed to repose our chief­est Contentment in the Soul, that we do not enough relie upon her who is the sole and sove­raign Mistress of our Condition. The Body, saving in greater or less proportion, has but one and the same Bent and Biass; whereas the Soul is variable into all sorts of forms; and sub­jects to her self, and to her own Empire, all things whatsoever; both the Senses of the Bo­dy, and all other Accidents: and therefore it is, that we ought to study her, to enquire into her, and to rowse up all her powerful Facul­ties. There is neither Reason, Form, nor Pre­scription, that can any thing prevail against her Inclination and Choice; of so many Thou­sands of Biasses that she has at her disposal, let us give her one proper to our repose and con­servation, and then we shall not only be shel­ter'd and secur'd from all manner of Injury and Offence, but moreover gratified and ob­lig'd, if we will, with Evils and Offences. She makes her profit indifferently of all things. Errour and Dreams serve her to good use, as a Loyal matter to Lodge us in Safety and Con­tentment. 'Tis plain enough to be seen, that 'tis the sharpness of our Conceit, that gives the Edge to our Pains and Pleasures. Beasts that have no such thing, leave to their Bodies their own free and natural Sentiments, and conse­quently, in every kind very near the same, as [Page 416] appears by the resembling Application of their Motions. If we would not disturb, in our Members, the Jurisdiction that appertains to them in this, 'tis to be believed, it would be the better for us, and that Nature has given them a just and moderate Temper, both to Pleasure and Pain; neither can it fail of being Just, being Equal, and Common. But seeing we have Enfranchis'd our selves from these Rules, to give our selves up to the rambling Liberty of our own Fancies, let us at least help to encline them to the most agreeable side▪ Plato fears our too vehemently engaging our selves with Grief and Pleasure, forasmuch as these too much Knit and Ally the Soul to the Body: whereas I rather, quite contrary, by reason it too much separates and disunites them. As an Enemy is made more Fierce by our Flight, so Pain grows Proud to see us Truckle under it. She will surrender upon much better Terms to them who make Head against her: A Man must oppose, and stoutly set himself against it. In retiring and giving ground, we invite, and pull upon our selves the Ruine that Threatens us. As the Body is more firm in an Encounter, the more stiffly and obstinately it applys it self to it; so is it with the Soul. But let us come to Exam­ples, which are the proper Commodity for Fellows of such feeble Reins as my self; where we shall find, that it is with Pain, as with Stones, that receive a more spritely, or a more languishing Lustre, according to the Foil they are set upon, that it has no more [Page 417] room in us, than we are pleas'd to allow it. Tantum doluerunt, Aug. de Ci­vit. Dei. quantùm doloribus se inseruerunt. They Griev'd so much the more, by how much they set themselves to Grieve. We are more sensible of one little touch of a Chirurgeon's Lancet, than of Twenty Wounds with a Sword in the heat of Fight. The Pains of Child-bear­ing, said by the Physician, and by God himself, to be very great, and which our Women keep so great a Clutter about, there are whole Nati­ons that make nothing of it. To say nothing of the Lacedaemonian Women, what alteration can you see in our Switzers Wives of the Guard, saving, as they trot after their Husbands, you see them to Day with the Child hanging at their Backs, that they carried yesterday in their Bellies? And the counterfeit Gipsies we have amongst us, go themselves to Wash their's so soon as they come into the World, in the first River they meet. Besides so many Wheres as Daily steal their Children out of their Womb, as before they stole them in; that fair and noble Wife of Sabinus, a Patrici­an of Rome, for anothers interest alone, with­out help, without crying out, or so much as a Groan, endur'd the Bearing of Two Twins. a poor simple Boy of Lacedaemon having stole a Fox, (for they more fear the Shame of their Knavery in stealing, than we do the Punish­ment of our Knavery,) and having got him un­der his Coat, did rather endure the tearing out of his Bowels, than he would discover his Theft. And another Cursing at a Sacrifice, suffer'd himself to be Burnt to the Bone, by a [Page 418] Coal that fell into his Sleeve, rather than dis­turb the Ceremony. And there have been a great Number, for a sole Trial of Vertue, following their instruction, who have at Se­ven Years old endur'd to be Whipt to Death, without changing their Countenance. And Cicero has seen them Fight in Parties, with Fists, Feet and Teeth, till they have fainted and sunk down, rather than confess themselves overcome. Custom would never Conquer Na­ture, for she is ever invincible, but we have infected the Mind with Shadows, Delights, Wantonness, Negligence and Sloath; and with vain Opinions, and corrupt Manners, render'd it Effeminate and Mean. Every one knows the Story of Scaevola, that being slipt into the Ene­mies Camp to Kill their General, and having miss'd his Blow, to repair his fault, by a more strange Invention, and to deliver his Country, he boldly confess'd to Porsenna, (who was the King he had a purpose to Kill,) not only his de­sign, but moreover added, That there were then in his Camp a great Number of Romans, his Complices in the Enterprize, as good Men as he, and to shew what a one he himself was, having caus'd a Pan of Burning Coals to be brought, he saw, and endur'd his Arm to Broil and Roast, till the King himself, concei­ving Horrour at the sight, commanded the Pan to be taken away. What would you say of him, that would not vouchsafe to respite his Reading in a Book, whilst he was under Inci­sion? And of the other that persisted to Mock and Laugh, in Contempt of the Pains inflicted [Page 419] upon him; so that the provok'd Cruelty of the Executioners that had him in handling, and all the Inventions of Tortures redoubled up­on him one after another, spent in vain, gave him the Bucklers? But he was a Phi­losopher. What! a Fencer of Caesar's, En­dur'd and Laughing all the while, Cicero Tusc. l. 2. his Wounds to be search'd, Launc'd and laid open. Quis mediocris gladiator ingemuit? Quis vultum mu­tavit unquam? Quis non modo stetit, verum etiam decubuit turpiter? Quis cum decubuisset, ferrum recipere jussus, collum contraxit? What mean Fencer ever so much as gave a Groan? Which of them ever so much as chang'd his Countenance? Which of them standing or falling did either with Shame? Which of them, when he was down, and com­manded to receive the Blow of the Sword, e­ver shrunk in his Neck? Let us bring in the Women too. Who has not heard at Paris of her that caus'd her Face to be flea'd, only for the fresher Complexion of a new Skin? There are who have drawn good and sound Teeth, to make their Voices more soft and sweet, or to place them in better Order. How ma­ny Examples of the contempt of Pain have we in that Sex? What can they not do? What do they fear to do, for never so little hopes of an Addition to their Beauty?

I have seen some of them swallow Sand, Ashes, and do their utmost to destroy their Stomachs, to get Pale Complexions. To make a fine Spanish Boy, what Racks will they not endure of Twea­king and Braceing, till they have Noches in their sides, cut into the very quick Flesh, and some­times to Death? It is an ordinary thing with se­veral Nations at this Day, to hurt themselves in good earnest, to gain credit to what they profess, of which, our King relates notable Examples of what he has seen in Poland, and done towards himself. But besides this, which I know to have been imitated by some in France, when I came from that famous Assembly of the Estates at Blois, I had a little before seen a Maid in Picardy, who to manifest the Ardour of her Promises, as also her Constancy, give her self, with a Bodkin she wore in her Hair, Four or Five good lusty Stabs into the Arm, till the Bloud gush'd out to some purpose. The Turks make themselves great Scars in Honour of their Mistresses, and to the end they may the longer remain, they presently clap Fire to the Wound, where they hold it an uncredible time to stop the Bloud, and form the Cicatrice; People that have been Eye-witness of it, have both Writ and Sworn it to me. But for Ten Aspers, there are there every day Fellows to be found, that will give themselves a good deep slash in the Arms or Thighs. I am willing, though to have the [Page 421] Testimonies nearest to us, when we have most need of them; for Christendom does furnish us with enow. And after the Example of our Blessed Guide, there have been many who would bear the Cross. We Learn by Testimo­ny, very worthy of belief, that the King St. Lewis wore a Hair-shirt, till in his old Age his Confessor gave him a Dispensation to leave it off; and that every Friday he caus'd his Shoulders to be drubb'd by his Priest with Six smalls Chains of Iron, which were always carried about amongst his Night Accoutre­ments for that purpose. William our last Duke of Guienne, the Father of this Eleanor who has Transmitted this Dutchy into the Houses of France and England, continually for Ten or Twelve Years before he Died, wore a Suit of Arms under a Religious Habit, by way of Pe­nance. Fulkee Count of Anjou, went as far as Ierusalem, there to cause himself to be Whipt by Two of his Servants, with a Rope about his Neck, before the Sepulchre of our Lord: But do we not moreover every Good Friday, in several places, see great numbers of Men and Women, Beat and Whip themselves till they Lacerate and Cut the Flesh to the very Bones; I have often seen this, and without Enchantment, when it was said, there were some amongst them, (for they go disguis'd,) who for Money undertook by this means to save harmless the Religion of others, by a con­tempt of Pain, so much the greater, as the In­centives of Devotion are more effectual, than those of Avarice. Q. Maximus Buried his [Page 422] Son, when he was a Consul, and M. [...]ate his, when Praetor Elect; and L. Paulus both his, within a few Days one after another, with such a Countenance as express'd no man­ner of Grief. I said once Merrily of a certain Person, that he had disappointed the Divine Justice: for the Violent Death of Three grown up Children of his, being one Day sent him, for a severe Scourge, as it is to be sup­pos'd, he was so far from being Afflicted at the Accident, that he rather took it for a par­ticular Grace and Favour of Heaven. I do not follow these Monstrous Humours, though I lost Two or Three at Nurse, if not without Grief, at least, without Repining, and yet there is hardly any Accident, that pierces near­er to the quick. I see a great many other occa­sions of Sorrow, that should they happen to me, I should hardly feel; and have despis'd some when they have befallen me, to which the World has give so Terrible a Figure, that I should Blush to Boast of my Constancy. Ex quo intelligitur, non in Natura, sed in opinione esse aegri­tudinem. By which it is understood, Cicero. that the Grief is not in Nature, but Opinion. Opinion is a Powerful Party, bold, and without Mea­sure, who ever so greedily hunted after Secu­rity and Repose, as Alexander and Caesar did after Disturbances and Difficulties? Terez the Father of Sitalces, was wont to say, that when he had no Wars, he fansied there was no diffe­rence betwixt him and his Groom. Cato the Consul, to secure some Cities of Spain from Revolt, only interdicting the Inhabitants from [Page 423] wearing Arms, a great many Kill'd themselves: Ferox gens, nullam vitam rati sine Armis esse. A Fierce People, who thought there was no Life without Arms. How many do we know, who have forsaken the Calms and Sweetness of a Quiet Life, at Home amongst their Acquain­tance, to seek out the Horrour of uninhabitable Desarts; and having precipitated themselves into so Abject a Condition, as to become the Scorn and Contempt of the World, have hug'd themselves with the Conceit, even to Affectation. Cardinal Barromeus, who Died lately at Milan, in the midst of all the Jollity that the Air of Italy, his Youth, Birth and great Riches invited him to, kept himself in so Au­stere a way of Living, that the same Robe he wore in Summer, serv'd him for Winter too? Had only Straw for his Bed, and his Hours of vacancy from the Affairs of his Employment, he continually spent in Study, upon his Knees, having a little Bread and a Glass of Water set by his Book, which was all the Provision of his Repast, and all the time he spent in Ea­ting. I know some who consentingly have Ac­quir'd both Profit and Advancement from Cuckoldry, of which the bare Name only af­frights so many People. If the Sight be not the most necessary of all our Senses, 'tis at least the most pleasant: But the most pleasant and most useful of all our Members, seem to be those of Generation, and yet a great many have conceiv'd a Mortal Hatred against them, only for this, that they were too Amiable; and have depriv'd themselves of them, only for [Page 424] their Value. As much thought lie of his Eyes, that put them out. The generality, and more solid sort of Men, look upon abundance of Children as a great Blessing, I, and some o­thers, think it as a great Benefit to be with­out them. And when you ask Thales, why he does not Marry, he tells you, because he has no mind to leave any Posterity behind him. That our Opinion gives the value to things, is very manifest in a great many of these which we do not so much regard to prize them, but our selves; and never consider, either their Vertues, or their Use; but only how dear they cost us: As though that were a part of their substance: And we only repute for value in them, not what they bring to us, but what we add to them. By which I understand, that we are great managers of our Expence. As it weighs, it serves for so much as it weighs; our Opinion will never suffer it to want of its value. The Price gives value to the Diamond▪ Difficulty to Vertue, Suffering to Devotion, and Griping to Physick. A certain Person, to be Poor, threw his Crowns into the same Sea, to which so many came from all parts of the World to Fish and Rifle for Riches. Epicurus says, That to be Rich, is no Advantage, but only an alteration of Affairs. In plain truth, it is not Want, but rather abundance, that Creates Avarice. Neither will I stick to deli­ver my own Experience concerning this Af­fair.

I have since my Child-hood Liv'd in Three sorts of Conditions; the First, which conti­nued [Page 425] for some Twenty Years, I past over without any other means, but what were Ac­cidental, and depending upon the allowance and assistance of others, without Stint, or cer­tain Revenue. I then spent my Money so much the more chearfully, and with so much the less care how it went, as it wholly depended up­on my over-confidence of Fortune; and never Liv'd more at my ease, I never had the repulse [...] of finding the Purse of any of my Friends shur [...] against me, having enjoin'd my self this Ne­cessity above all other Necessities whatever, by no means to fail of Payment at the appointed time, which also they have a Thousand times respited, seeing how careful I was to satisfie them; so that I practis'd at once a Thrifty, and withal, a kind of alluring Honesty. I naturally feel a kind of pleasure in Paying, as if I eas'd my Shoulders of a troublesome Weight, and in freeing my self from that I­mage of Slavery; as also, that I had a ravish­ing kind of satisfaction, in pleasing another by doing a Just Action. Those kind of payments excepted, where the trouble of reckoning and dodging are requir'd, and in such cases, where I can meet with no Body to ease me of that hateful Torment, I avoid them, how scanda­lously and injuriously soever, all I possibly can, for fear of those little wrangling Disputes, for which, both my humour, and way of speak­ing, are so totally improper and unfit. There is nothing I hate so much, as driving on a Bar­gain; 'tis a meer Traffick of Cozenage and Impudence: where after an Hours cheapning [Page 426] and dodging, both Parties abandon their Word and Oath for Five Sols profit, or abate­ment. And yet I always borrow'd at great disadvantage, for wanting the confidence to speak to the person my self, I committed my Request to the perswasion of a Ticket, which usually is no very successful Advocate, and is of very great advantage to him who has a mind to deny. I in those Days more jocund­ly and freely referr'd the Conduct of my Af­fairs to the Stars, than I have since done to my own Providence and Judgment. Most good Husbands look upon it as a horrible thing to Live always thus in uncertainty, and are not angry in the first place, that the greatest part of the World Live so. How many Wor­thy Men have wholly slighted and abandon'd the certainty of their own Estates, and yet Daily do it, to trust to the inconstant Favour of Princes, and fickle Fortune? Caesar ran a­bove a Million of Gold, more than he was worth, in Debt, to become Caesar. And how many Merchants have begun their Traffick by the Sale of their Farms, which they sent into the Indies.

In so great a Siccity of Devotion, as we see in these Days, we have a Thousand and a Thousand Colleges, that pass it over com­modiously enough, expecting every Day their Dinner from the Liberality of Heaven. Se­condly, They do not take notice, that this [Page 427] Certitude upon which they so much relie, is not much less uncertain and hazardous, than Hazard it self. I see Misery as near beyond Two Thousand Crowns a Year, as if it stood close by me; for besides, that it is in the power of Chance to make a Hundred Breaches to Poverty, through the greatest strength of our Riches, (there being very often no Mean, betwixt the highest and the lowest For­tune.)

And to turn all our Barricado's and Bulworks Topsie Turvey, I find that by divers Causes, Indigence is as frequently seen to Inhabit with those who have Estates, as with those that have none; and peradventure, it is then far less Grievous, when alone, than when accom­panied with Riches; which flow more from good Managery, than Income. Sen. Ep. 4. Faber est suae quisque Fortunae. Every one is the Hammerer of his own Fortune, and an uneasie, necessi­tous, busie Man, seems to me more Miserable, than he that is simply Poor. In divitiis inopes, quod genus egestatis gravissimum est. Poor in the midst of Riches, which is the most insup­portable kind of Poverty. The greatest and most wealthy Princes, are by Poverty and Want driven to the most extream Necessity: [Page 428] for can there be any more Extream, than to become Tyrants, and unjust Usurpers, of their Subjects Goods and Estates?

My Second Condition of Life was, to have Money of my own; wherein I so order'd the matter, that I had soon laid up a very notable Summ out of so mean a Fortune; consider­ing with my self, that that only was to be re­puted having, which a Man reserv'd from his ordinary Expence, and that a Man could not absolutely relie upon Revenue to receive, how clear soever his Estate might be. For what, said I, if I should be surpriz'd by such or such an Accident; And after such like vain and vi­cious Imaginations, would very Learnedly, by this hoarding of Money, provide against all Inconveniences; and could moreover answer, such as objected to me, that the number of them was too infinite, that I could not lay up for all, I could however do it at least for some, and for many. Yet was not this done without a great deal of Solicitude and Anxiety of Mind. I kept it very close, and though I dare talk so boldly of my self, never spoke of my Money, but falsely, as others do, who be­ing Rich, pretend to be Poor, and being Poor, pretend to be Rich, dispensing with their Con­sciences for ever telling sincerely what they have. A ridiculous and shameful Prudence. Was I to go a Journey? methoug [...]t I was ne­ver enough provided: and the more I loaded my self with Money, the more also was I load­ed with Fear, one while of the danger of the Roads, another of the Fidelity of him who [Page 429] had the charge of my Sumpters, of whom, as some others that I know, I was never suffici­ently Secure, if I had him not always in my Eye. If I chanc'd to leave the Key of my Cabinet behind me, what strange Jealousies, and Anxiety of Mind did I enter into? And which was worse, without daring to acquaint any Body with it. My Mind was eternally ta­ken up with such things as these, so that all things consider'd, there is more trouble in keeping Money, than in getting it. And if I did not altogether so much as I say, or was not effectually so scandalously solicitous of my Money, as I have made my self; yet it cost me something at least to govern my self from being so. I reapt little or no advantage by what I had, and my Expences seem'd nothing less to me, for having the more to spend: For, as Rion said, The Hairy Men are as an­gry as the Bald to be pull'd; and after you are once accustomed to it, and have once set your heart upon your heap, it is no more at your Service, you cannot find in your heart to break it: 'Tis a Building that you will fansie, must of necessity all tumble down to Ruin, if you stir but the least Pibble. Necessity must first take you by the Throat, before you can pre­vail upon your self to touch it: And I would sooner have pawn'd any thing I had, or sold a House, and with much less constraint upon my self, than have made the least breach in that beloved Purse, I had so cunningly laid by. But the danger was, that a Man cannot easily pre­scribe certain limits to this desire, (for they are [Page 430] hard to find in things that a Man conceives to be good,) and to stint this good Husbandry so, that it may not degenerate into Avarice: Men still being intent upon adding to the heap, and encreasing the stock, from Summ to Summ, till at last they vilely deprive them­selves of the enjoyment of their own proper Goods, and throw all into reserve, without making any use of them at all. According to this Rule, they are the Richest People in the World, who are set to guard the Goals, and to defend the Walls of a Wealthy City. All Mony'd Men I conclude to be Convetous. Pla­to places Corporal or Humane Riches in this Order; Health, Beauty, Strength and Rich­es; and Riches, says he, is not blind, but ve­ry clear sighted, when illuminated by Pru­dence. Dionysius the Son, did a very hand­some Act upon this subject. He was in­form'd, that one of the Syracusans had hid a Treasure in the Earth, and thereupon sent to the Man to bring it to him, which he accord­ingly did, privately reserving a small part of it only to himself, with which he went to a­nother City, where being cur'd of his Appe­tite of Hoarding, he began to Live at a more liberal Rate. Which Dionysius hearing, caus'd the rest of his Treasure to be restored to him, saying, that since he had learnt how to use it, he very willingly returned it back unto him.

I continued some Years in this hoarding Hu­mour, when I know not what good Daemon for­tunately put me out of it, as he did the Syra­cusan, and made me throw abroad all my re­serve [Page 431] at random; the pleasure of a certain Voyage I took of very great Expence, having made me spurn this fond Love of Money un­der foot, by which means I am now fallen in­to a third way of living, (I speak what I think of it) doubtless much more pleasant and moderate, which is, that I live at the height of my Revenue, sometimes the one, sometimes the other may perhaps exceed, but 'tis very little, and but rarely that they differ at all; I live from Hand to Mouth, and con­tent my self in having sufficient for my pre­sent, and ordinary Expence; for as to extra­ordinary occasions, all the laying up in the World would never suffice; and 'tis the great­est folly imaginable to expect, that Fortune should ever sufficiently arm us against her self. 'Tis with our own Arms that we are to fight her, accidental ones will betray us in the pinch of the business. If I lay up, 'tis for some near and designed Expence, and not to pur­chase Lands, of which I have no need, but to purchase pleasure. Non esse cupidum, pecunia est: Cicero. Perad. Vlt. non esse emacem, vectigal est. Not to be Cove­tous, [...]is Money, not to be a Purchaser, is a Tribute. I neither am in any great appre­hension of wanting, nor in any desire of any more; Divittarum fructus est in copia; Ibid. copiam declarat satietas. The fruits of Riches lie in abundance, sat [...]ety declares abundance. And I am very well pleased with my self, that this Reformation in me, has fallen out in an Age naturally inclined to Avarice, and that I see my self clear'd of a Folly so common to Old [Page 432] Men, and the most ridiculous of all humane Follies. Feraulez a Man that had run through both Fortunes, and found that the encrease of substance, was no encrease of appetite, either to Eating, or Drinking, Sleeping, or the en­joyment of his Wife, and who on the other side, felt the care of his Oeconomy lie heavy upon his Shoulders, as it does on mine; was resolved to please a poor Young Man his faith­ful Friend, who panted after Riches, by ma­king him a gift of all his, which was exces­sively great, and moreover of all he was in the daily way of getting by the liberality of Cy­rus, his good Master, and by the War; con­ditionally that he should take care handsomly to maintain, and plentifully to entertain him, as his Host, and his Friend; which being ac­cordingly embrac'd, and performed, they af­terwards liv'd very happily together, both of them equally content with the change of their condition. An example that I could imitate with all my heart. And very much approve the Fortune of an Ancient Prelate, whom I see to have so absolutely stript himself of his Purse, his Revenue, and Care; of his Ex­pence; committing them one while to one trusty Servant, and another while to another, that he has spun out a long succession of Years, as ignorant by this means of his Domestick Affairs, as a meer stranger. The confidence of another Mans vertue, is no light evidence of a Mans own; besides God is pleased to favour such a confidence, as to what concerns him of whom I am speaking, I see no where [Page 433] a better govern'd Family, nor a House more nobly, and constantly maintained than his, happy in this to have stated his affairs to so just a proportion, that his Estate is sufficient to do it without his care, or trouble, and without any hinderance, either in the spend­ing, or laying it up; to his other more de­cent, and quiet employments, and that are more suitable both to his place, and liking. Plenty then and indigence depend upon the opinion every one has of them; and Riches no more than Glory, or Health, have no more either Beauty, or Pleasure, than he is pleas'd to lend them, by whom they are possest. Eve­ry one is well, or ill at ease, according as he finds himself: Not he whom the World be­lieves, but he who believes himself to be so, is content; and in him alone belief gives it self being, and reality. Fortune does us nei­ther good, nor hurt; she only presents us the matter, and the seed, which our Soul, more powerfully than she, turns and applies as she best pleases; being the sole cause, and Sove­raign Mistress of her own happy, or unhappy condition. All external accessions receive taste and Colour, from the internal constitution, as Cloaths warm us, not with their Heat, but our own, which they are fit to cover and keep in; and who would cover a cold body, would do the same service for the Cold, for so Snow and Ice are preserved. And after the same manner that Study is a torment to a Truant, abstinence from Wine to a good Fellow, fru­gality to the Spend-thrift, and exercise to a [Page 434] Lazy tender bred Fellow; so it is of all the rest. The things are not so painful, and dif­ficult of themselves, but our weakness or cow­ardice makes them so. To judge of great, and high matters, requires a suitable Soul, o­therwise we attribute the Vice to them, which is really our own. A straight Oar seems crook­ed in the Water: It does not only import that we see the thing, but how, and after what manner we see it. But after all this, why a­mongst so many discourses, that by so many arguments perswade Men to despise Death, and to endure pain, can we not find out one that makes for us? And of so many sorts of ima­ginations as have so prevailed upon others, as to perswade them to do so, why does not eve­ry one apply some one to himself, the most suitable to his own humour? If he cannot away with a strong working Apozem to era­dicate the Evil, let him at least take a Lenitive to ease it. Opinio est quaedam effeminata, ac le­vis: Cicero. Tus [...]. lib. 2. nec in dolore magis, quam eadem in volupta­te: qua quam liquescimus fluimusque mollitia, a­pis aculeum sine clamore ferre non possumus. To­tum in eo est, ut tibi imperes. There is a cer­tain light, and effeminate opinion, and that not more in pain, than it is even in pleasure it self; by which, whilst we rest and wallow in ease, and wantonness, we cannot endure so much as the stinging of a Bee, without roar­ing. All that lies in it is only this, to com­mand thy self. As to the rest, a Man does not transgress Philosophy, by permitting the acrimony of pains, and humane frailty to [Page 435] prevail so much above measure; for they will at last be reduc'd to these invincible replies. If it be ill to live in necessity, at least there is no necessity upon a Man to live in necessity. No Man continues ill long but by his own fault. And who has neither the Courage to Die; nor the Heart to Live: who will neither resist nor fly, what should a Man do to him?

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

And of all the irrational humours of Men, it should seem that even the Philosophers them­selves have the most ado, and do the latest dis­engage themselves from this, as the most resty and obstinate of all humane Follies. Quia eti­am bene proficientes animos tentare non cessat. Aug. de Civit. Dei. Because it ceases not to attack even the wisest, and best letter'd minds. There is not any one Vice, of which reason does so clearly accuse the Vanity, as of that; but it is so deeply rcoted in us, that I dare not determine, whe­ther any one ever clearly sequestred himself from it or no. After you have said all, and believed all has been said to its prejudice, it creates so intestine an inclination in opposition to your best Arguments, that you have little power, and constancy to resist it: for (as Ci­cero says) even those who most controvert it, would yet that the Books they write should vi­sit the light under their own Names, and seek to derive Glory from seeming to despise it. All other things are communicable, and fall into Commerce; we lend our Goods, and stake our Lives for the necessity, and service of our Friends; but to Communicate a Man's Honour, and to Robe another with a Man's own Glory, is very rarely seen. And yet we have some examples of that kind. Catulus Lu­ctatius in the Cymbrian War, having done all that in him lay to make his flying Souldiers face about upon the Enemy, ran himself at last away with the rest, and counterfeited the Coward, to the end his Men might rather seem to follow their Captain, than to fly from the [Page 437] Enemy; which was to abandon his own repu­tation, to palliate the shame of others. When Charles the Fifth came into Provence in the Year 1537, 'tis said, that Antonio de Leva see­ing the Emperour positively resolv'd upon this Expedition, and believing it would redound very much to his honour, did nevertheless ve­ry stiffly oppose it in the Council, to the end that the entire glory of that Resolution should be attributed to his Master; and that it might be said, his own Wisdom and foresight had been such, as that contrary to the opinion of all, he had brought about so great, and so ge­nerous an Enterprize; which was to do him Honour at his own Expence. The Thracian Embassadors, coming to comfort Archileonida the Mother of Brasidas upon the death of her Son, and commending his to that height, as to say he had not left his like behind him; she rejected this private, and particular com­mendation to attribute it to the publick: Tell me not that, (said she) I know the City of Sparta has several Citizens both greater, and of greater Valour than he. In the Battel of Cressy, the Prince of Wales, being then very young, had the Vantguard committed to him, and the main stress of the Battel hapned to be in that place, which made the Lords that were with him, finding themselves overmatcht, to send to King Edward, that he would please to advance to their Relief; who thereupon enquiring of the condition his Son was in, and being answered, that he was yet living, and on Horse-back: I should then do him [Page 438] wrong (said the King) now to go, and de­prive him of the honour of winning this Bat­tel he has so long, and so bravely disputed▪ what hazard soever he runs, it shall be entire­ly his own: and accordingly would neither go nor send, knowing that if he went, it would be said all had been lost without his succour, and that the honour of the Victory would be wholly attributed to him. Semper enim quod postremum adjectum est, id rem totam videtur traxisse. For the last st roak to a busi­ness seems to draw along with it the perfor­mance of the whole action. Many at Rome thought, and would usually say, that the greatest of Scipio's Acts, were in part due to Lelius, whose constant practice it was still to advance, and Shoulder Scipio's Grandeur and Renown, without any care of his own. And Theopompus King of Sparta to him who told him the Republick could not miscarry since he knew so well how to Command. 'Tis rather (answered he) because the people know so well how to Obey. As Women succeeding to Peerages, had notwithstanding their Sex the privilege to assist, and give in their Votes in the Causes that appertained to the Jurisdicti­on of Peers: So the Ecclesiastical Peers not­withstanding their prosession, were obliged to assist our Kings in their Wars, not only with their Friends and Servants, but in their own Persons. As the Bishop of Beauvais did, who being with Philip Augustus at the Battle of Bouvines, had a notable share in that action; but he did not think it fit for him to partici­pate [Page 439] in the Fruit and Glory of that Violent and Bloody Trade. He with his own Hand reduc'd several of the Enemy that Day to his Mercy, whom he delivered to the first Gen­tleman he met either to Kill, or receive them to Quarter, referring the execution to another hand. As also did William Earl of Salisbury to Messire Jean de Nesle, with a like subtlety of Conscience to the other we named before, he would Kill, but not wound him, and for that reason never Fought with a Mace. And a cer­tain person of my time, being reproacht by the King, that he had laid hands on a Priest, stiffly and positively deny'd he had done any such thing: the meaning of which was, he had Cudgell'd and Kick'd him.

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

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

and not for his Rich Comparisons; a Grey­hound for his share of Heels, not for his fine Collar; a Hawk for her Wing, not for her Gesses and Bells. Why, in like manner, do we not value a Man for what is properly his own? He has a great Train, a beautiful Pa­lace, so much Credit, so many Thousand Pounds a Year, and all these are about him, but not in him. You will not buy a Pig in a Poke: if you cheapen a Horse, you will see him stript of his Housing-cloaths, you will see [Page 441] him naked and open to your Eye; or if he be Cloath'd, as they anciently were wont to pre­sent them to Princes to Sell, 'tis only on the less important parts, that you may not so much consider the beauty of his Colour, or the breadth of his Crupper, as principally to examine his Limbs, Eyes and Feet, which are the Members of greatest use:

Why, in giving your Estimate of a Man, do you Prize him wrapt and muffled up in Cloaths? He then discovers nothing to you, but such parts as are not in the least his own; and con­ceals those, by which alone one may rightly judge of his Value. 'Tis the price of the Blade that you enquire into, and not of the Scab­bard: You would not peradventure bid a Far­thing for him, if you saw him stripp'd. You are to judge him by himself, and not by what he wears. And as one of the Ancients very pleasantly said, Do you know why you repute [Page 442] him Tall? You reckon withal the heighth of his Chepines, whereas the Pedestal is no part of the Statue. Measure him without his Stilts, let him lay aside his Revenues, and his Titles, let him present himself in his Shirt, then examine if his Body be sound and sprite­ly, active and dispos'd to perform its Functi­ons? What Soul has he? Is it Beautiful, ca­pable, and happily provided of all her Facul­ties? Is she Rich of what is her own, or of what she has Borrowed? Has Fortune no hand in the Affair? Can she, without wink­ing, stand the lightning of Swords; is she in­different, whether her Life expire by the Mouth, or through the Throat? Is she Settled, Even and Content? This is what is to be examin'd, and by that you are to judge of the vast differences betwixt Man, and Man. Is he

Compare with such a one the comman Rubble of Mankind, stupid and mean Spirited, Ser­vile, Instable, and continually floating with the Tempest of various Passions, that tosses and tumbles them to and fro, and all depend­ing upon others, and you will find a greater distance, than betwixt Heaven and Earth; and yet the blindness of common usage is such, that we make little or no account of it. Whereas, if we consider a Peasant, and a King, a Noble-Man, and a Villain, a Magi­strate, [Page 444] and a private Man, a Rich Man, and a Poor, there appears a vast disparity, though they differ no more, (as a Man may say,) than in their Breeches. In Thrace, the King was distinguish'd from his People, after a ve­ry pleasant manner; He had a Religion by himself, a God of his own, and which his Sub­jects were not to presume to Adore, which was Mercury, whilst, on the other side, he disdain'd to have any thing to do with theirs, Mars, Bacchus and Diana. And yet they are no other than Pictures, that make no Essenti­al Dissimilitude; for as you see Actors in a Play, representing the person of a Duke, or an Emperour, upon the Stage, and immediate­ly after, in the Tiring Room, return to their true and original Condition; so the Empe­rour, whose Pomp and Lustre, does so dazle you in Publick,

do but peep behind the Curtain, and you'll see nothing more than an ordinary Man, and per­adventure, Senec. Ep. 115. more Contemptible than the mean­est of his Subjects. Ille beatus introrsum est, istius bracteata felicitas est. True Happiness lies within, the other is but a counterfeit Feli­city. [Page 445] Cowardize, Irresolution, Ambition, Spite and Envy, are as Predominant in him, as in another.

Do Fevers, Gouts and Apoplexies, spare them any more, than one of us? When Old Age hangs heavy upon a Princes Sholders, can the Yeomen of his Guard ease him of the Burthen? [Page 446] When he is Astonish'd with the apprehension of Death, can the Gentlemen of his Bed-Cham­ber comfort and assure him? When Jealou­sie, or any other Capricio swims in his Brain, can our Complements and Ceremonies restore him to his good Humour? The Canopy Em­broider'd with Pearl and Gold, he [...]ies under, has no Vertue against a violent fit of the Stone or Cholick.

The Flatterers of Alexander the Great, possest him, that he was the Son of Jupiter: But be­ing one Day Wounded, and observing the Blood stream from his Wound: What say you now, (my Masters,) said he, is not this Blood of a Crimson Colour, and purely Hu­mane? This is not of the Complexion with that which Homer makes to issue from the Wounded Gods. The Poet Hermedorus had Writ a Poem in Honour of Antigonus, wherein he call'd him the Son of the Sun: But who has the emptying of my Close-stool, (said Antigonus) will find to the contrary. He is but a Man at best, and if he be Deform'd, or ill Qualified from his Birth, the Empire of the [Page 447] Universe, can neither mend his Shape, nor his Nature;

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

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

Mannours, or heaps of Brass and Gold, afford No ease at all to their Febritick Lord; [Page 448] For can they cure his Cares; 'tis requisite The Good's Possessor know the use of it. Who Fears or Covets, these so help him out, As Pictures Blind Folks, Cataplasms the Gout.

He is a Sot, his Taste is pall'd and flat; he no more enjoys what he has, than one that has a Cold, relishes the flavour of Canary; or than a Horse is sensible of his Rich Comparison. Plato is in the right, when he tells us, that Health, Beauty, Vigour and Riches, and all the other things call'd Goods, are equally Evil to the Unjust, as Good to the Just, and the Evil on the contrary the same. And there­fore, where either the Body or the Mind, are in disorder, to what use serve these ex­ternal Conveniences? Considering, that the least prick with a Pin, or the least Passion of the Soul, is sufficient to deprive us of the pleasure of being sole Monarch of the World. At the first twitch of the Gout, it signifies much to be call'd Sir, and your Majesty; ‘ Hor. lib. 1. El. 2.Totus, & argento conflatus, totus & auro.’ ‘Although his Chests are cram'd, whilst they will hold, With immense Sums of Silver Coin and Gold.’ does he not forget his Palaces and Grandeurs? If he be Angry, can his being a Prince, keep him from looking Red, and looking Pale, and grinding his Teeth, like a Mad-man? Now if he be a Man of parts, and well de­scended, Royalty adds very little to his Happi­ness:

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

To which we may add that saying of Cyrus, That no Man was fit to Rule, but he who in his own Worth was of greater Value, than all those he was to Govern: But King Hiero in [Page 450] Xenophon, says further, That in the Fruition even of Pleasure it self, they are in a worse condition, than private Men; forasmuch a [...] the opportunities and facility they have of com­manding those things at Will, takes off from the Delight:

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

Nothing is so distastful and disappointing, as Abundance. What Appetite would not be baffled, to see Three Hundred Women at his Mercy, as the Grand Signior has in his Seraglio? And what Fruition of Pleasure, or Taste of Recreation, did he of his Ancestors reserve to himself, who never went a Hawking without Seven Thousand Falconers? And besides all this, I Fansie that this Lustre of Grandeur brings with it no little disturbance and uneasi­ness upon the Enjoyment of the most tempting pleasures: they are too conspicuous, and lie too open to every ones view. Neither do I know to what end a man should any more re­quire them to conceal their Errors, since what is only reputed indiscretion in us, they know very well the people in them brand with the names of Tyranny, and contempt of the Laws; and besides their proclivity to Vice, are apt to [Page 452] censure, that as a heightning pleasure to them, to Insult over the Laws, and to trample upon Publick Ordinances. Plato indeed, in his Gorgeas defines a Tyrant to be one, who in a City has Licence to do whatever his own Will leads him to. And by reason of this Im­punity, the Over-tacting and Publication of their Vices, does oft-times more Mischief, than the Vice it self. Every one fears to be pry'd into, and discover'd in their Evil Courses; but Princes are, even to their very Gestures, Looks and thoughts, the People conceiving they have right and title to Censure, and be Judges of them: Besides, that the Blemishes of the Great, naturally appear greater, by reason of the Eminency and Lustre of the place where they are seated; and that a Mole or a Wart appears greater in them, than the greatest Deformity in others. And this is the reason why the Poets feign the Amours of Jupiter to be perform'd in the disguises of so many borrowed shapes, that amongst the ma­ny Amorous Practices they lay to his charge, there is only one, as I remember, where he appears in his own Majesty and Grandeur. But let us return to Hiero, who complains of the Inconveniences he found in his Royalty, in that he could not look abroad, and Travel the World at liberty, being as it were a Prisoner to the Bounds and Limits of his own Domini­on: And that in all his Actions, he was ever­more surrounded with an importunate Crowd. And in truth to see our Kings set all alone at Table, environed with so many People pra­ting [Page 453] about them, and so many strangers staring upon them, as they always are, I have often been mov'd, rather to pity, than to envy, their condition. King Alphonsus was wont to say, that in this, Asses were in a better condi­tion than Kings, their Masters permitting them to feed at their own ease and pleasure; a fa­vour that Kings cannot obtain of their Servants. And it would never sink into my fancy, that it could be of any great benefit to the Life of a Man of sense, to have Twenty People prating about him, when he is at Stool; or that the Services of a Man of Ten Thousand Livers a Year, or that has taken Casal, or defended Siena, should be either more commodious, or more acceptable to him, than those of a good Groom of the Chamber, that understands his place. The Advantages of Soveraignty, are but Imaginary upon the matter: Every de­gree of Fortune has in it some Image of Prin­cipality. Caesar calls all the Lords of France, having Free-Franchise within their own De­means, Roylets; and in truth, the Name of Sire excepted, they go pretty far towards Kingship; for do but look into the Provinces remote from Court, as Brittany for example, take notice of the Attendance, the Vassals, the Officers, the Employments, Service, Ceremony and State, of a Lord that Lives retir'd from Court, is constant to his own House, and that has been bred up amongst his own Tenants and Servants; and observe withal, the flight of his Imagination, there is nothing more Royal; He hears talk of his Master once a Year, as of [Page 454] a King of Persia, or Peru, without taking any further notice of him, than some remote Kin­dred, his Secretary keeps in some Musty Re­cord. And, to speak the truth, our Laws are easie enough, so easie, that a Gentlman of France scarce feels the weight of Soveraignty pinch his Shoulders above Twice in his Life. Real and effectual Subjection, only concerns such amongst us, as voluntarily thrust their Necks under the Yoke, and who design to get Wealth and Honours by such Services: For a Man that loves his own Fire-side, and can Go­vern his House, without falling by the Ears with his Neighbours, or engaging in Suits of Law, is as free, as a Duke of Venice. [...] servitus, plures servitutem tenent. Servitude seizes of few, but many seize of her. But that which Hiero is most concern'd at, is, that he finds himself stripp'd of all Friendship, and depriv'd of all Natural Society, wherein the true and most perfect Fruition of Humane Life does consist. For what Testimony of affection and good will, can I extract from him, that owes me, whether he will or no, all that he is able to do? Can I form any assurance of his real Respect to me, from his humble way of speaking, and submissive Behaviour, when they are Ceremonies, it is not in his Choice to deny? The Honour we receive from those that Fear us, is not Honour, those Respects are paid to my Royalty, and not to me.

Do I not see, that the Wicked, and the good King, he that is hated, and he that is belov'd, has the one as much Reverence paid him, as the other? My Predecessor was, and my Suc­cessor shall be, serv'd with the same Ceremony and State. If my Subjects do me no harm, 'tis no Evidence of any good Affection; why should I look upon it as such, seeing it is not in their Power if they would? No one fol­lows me, or Obeys my Commands, upon the account of any Friendship betwixt him and me; there can be no contracting of Friendship, where there is so little relation and correspon­dence: My own Height has put me out of the Familiarity of, and Intelligence with men: There is too great disparity and disproportion betwixt us; they follow me either upon the account of decency, and custom; or rather my fortune, than me, to encrease their own: All they say to me, or do for me, is forc'd and dissembled, their liberty being on all parts restrain'd by the great power and Authority I have over them. I see nothing about me but what is dissembled, and d [...]sguis'd. The [Page 456] Emperour Julian being one day applauded for his exact Justice: I should be proud of these praises, said he, did they come from persons that durst condemn, or disapprove the contrary, in case I should do it. All the real advantages of Princes are common to them with Men of meaner condition: 'Tis for the Gods to Mount winged Horses, and feed upon Ambr [...] ­sia: Earthly Kings have no other Sleep, nor other Appetite, than we; the Steel they [...] themselves withal, is of no better temper, than that we also use; their Crowns do nei­ther defend them from the Rain, nor Sun Dioclesian who wore a Crown so Fortunate and Rever'd, resign'd it, to retire himself to the Felicity of a private Life: And some time after the necessity of Publick Affairs, requi­ring, that he should reassume his Charge, he made Answer to those who came to Court him to it, You would not offer, (said he) to persuade me to this, had you seen the fine Or­der of Trees I have Planted in my Orchard, and the fair Melons I have Sow'd in my Gar­den. In Anacharsis his Opinion, the happiest Estate of Government would be, where all o­ther things being equal, Precedency should be measur'd out by the Vertues, and Repulses by the Vices of Men. When King Pyrrhus pre­par'd for his Expedition into Italy, his Wise Counseller Cyneas, to make him sensible of the Vanity of his Ambition; Well Sir, (said he,) to what End do you make all this Mighty Pre­paration? To make my self Master of Italy, (reply'd the King.) And what after that is [Page 457] done, (said Cyneas?) I will pass over into Gaule and Spain, said the other. And what then? I will then go to Subdue Africk; and lastly, when I have brought the whole World to my Subjection, I will sit down and rest Content at my own Ease. For God sake, Sir, (reply'd Cyneas,) tell me what hinders, that you may not, if you please, be now in the con­dition you speak of? Why do you not now at this instant, settle your self in the State you seem to aim at, and spare the Labour and Hazard you interpose?

I will conclude with an old Versicle, that I think very pat to the purpose.

Himself, not Fortune, ev'ry one must blame, Since Men's own Manners do their Fortunes frame.

THE way by which our Laws attempt to regulate idle and vain expences in Meat and Cloaths, seems to be quite contrary to the end [Page 458] design'd. The true way would be to beget in men a contempt of Silks and Gold, as vain, frivolous, and useless; whereas we augment to them the Honours, and enhance the value of such things, which sure is a very improper way to create a disgust. For to enact, the none but Princes shall eat Turbes, shall wea [...] Velvet, or Gold-Lace, and interdict these things to the people, what is it but to bring them into a greater esteem, and to set every one more agog to eat, and wear them? L [...] Kings (a Gods name) leave of their Ensign [...] of Grandeur, they have others enough besides; those excesses are more excusable in any other, than a Prince. We may learn by the Example of several Nations, better ways of exteriour distinction of quality (which truly I conceive to be very requisite in a State) enow, without fostering up this corruption, and manifest in convenience to this effect. 'Tis strange how suddenly, and with how much ease custom in these indifferent things establishes it self, and becomes authority. We had scarce worn Cloath a year (in compliance with the Court) for the Mourning of Henry the Second, but that Silks were already grown into such con­tempt with every one, that a man so clad, was presently Concluded a Citizen. The Silks were divided betwixt the Physicians, and Chirurgeons, and though all other people al­most went in the same habit, there was not­withstanding in one thing or other, sufficient distinction of the calling, and conditions of men. How suddenly do greasy Chamois Dou­blets [Page 459] become the fashion in our Armies, whilst all neatness and riches of habit fall into con­tempt? Let Kings but lead the dance, and be­gin to leave off this expence, and in a Month the business will be done throughout the King­dom, without an Edict; we shall all follow. It sould be rather proclaim'd on the contrary, that no one should wear Scarlet, or Gold­smiths work, but Whores and Tumblers. Ze­leucus with the like invention reclaim'd the cor­rupted manners of the Locrians. Whose Laws were, That no free Woman should be allow'd any more than one Maid to follow her unless she was drunk: nor was to stir out of the City by night, wear Jewels of Gold about her, or go in an Embroidered Robe, unless she was a profest and publick Whore: The Bravo's, and Russians excepted, no man was to wear a Gold Ring, nor be seen in one of those effemi­nate Vests woven in the City of Miletum. By which infamous exceptions, he discreetly diverted his Citizens, from Superfluities, and pernicious pleasures, and it was a project of great Utility to attract men by honour, and Ambition to their Duty and Obedience. Our Kings may do what they please in such external Reformations, their own inclinations stand in this case for a Law, Quicquid Principes fa­ciunt, Quinct. De­cla. 4. praecipere videntur. What Princes them­selves do, they seem to enjoyn others. What­ever is done at Court passes for a rule through the rest of France. Let the Courtiers but fall out with these abominable Breeches, that dis­cover so much of those parts should be conceal­ed: [Page 460] These great Bellied Doublets, that make us look like I know not what; and are so un­fit to admit of Arms; these long effeminate Locks of Hair: This foolish Custom of Kissing, what we present to our equals and our Hands in saluting them; a ceremony in former times only due to Princes: And that a Gentleman shall appear in place of respect without his Sword, unbuttoned and untrust, as though he came from the House of Office; and that con­trary to the custom of our Fore-fathers, and the particular privilege of the Nobless of this Kingdom, we shall stand a long time bare to them in what place soever, and the same to a hundred others, so many Tierces and Quarts of Kings we have got now a days, and also other the like innovations, and degenerate customs; they will see them all presently Vanish'd and Cry'd down. These are, 'tis true, but superficial Errours; but however of ill consequence, and 'tis enough to inform us that the whole Fabrick is Crazy and Totter­ing, when we see the rough-cast of our Walls to cleave and split. Plato in his Laws, esteems nothing of more pestiferous consequence to his City, than to give Young-Men the liberty of introducing any change in their Habits, Gestures, Dances, Songs, and Exercises, from one form to another; shifting from this to that, Hunting after Novelties, and applauding the Inventors; by which means Manners are corrupted, and the old Institutions come to be nauseated and despised. In all things saving only in those that are evil, a change is to be [Page 461] fear'd; even the change of Seasons, Winds, Viands, and Humours. And no Laws are in their true credit, but such to which God has given so long a continuance, that no one knows their beginning, or that there ever was any other.

REason directs, that we should always go the same way; but not always the same pace. And consequently though a wise-Man ought not so much to give the Reins to hu­mane Passions, as to let them deviate him from the right Path; he may notwithstanding without prejudice to his Duty, leave it to them to hasten, or to slack his speed, and not fix himself like a motionless, and insensible Coloss. Could Vertue it self put on Flesh and Blood, I believe the Pulse would Beat faster going on to an Assault, than in going to Dinner: That is to say, there is a necessity she should Heat, and be mov'd upon this ac­count. I have taken notice, as of an extraor­dinary thing of some great Men, who in the highest Enterprises, and greatest Dangers, have detain'd themselves in so settled and se­rene a Calm, as not at all to hinder their usual Gayety, or break their Sleep. Alexander the Great on the Day assigned for that furious Battle betwixt him and Darius, slept so pro­foundly, [Page 462] and so long in the Morning, that Barmenio was forc'd to enter his Chamber, and coming to his Bed-side to call him several times by his Name, the time to go to Fight compel­ling him so to do. The Emperour Otho, ha­ving put on a resolution to Kill himself the same night, after having settled his Domestick affairs, divided his Money amongst his Ser­vants, and set a good edge upon a Sword he had made choice of for the purpose, and now staying only to be satisfied whether all his friends were retir'd in safety, he fell into so sound a sleep, that the Gentlemen of he Chamber heard him Snore. The death of this Emperour has in its circumstances paral­lelling that of the great Cato, and particu­larly this before related: For Cato being ready to dispatch himself, whilst he only staid his hand in expectation of the return of a messenger he had sent, to bring him news whether the Senators he had sent away, were put out from the Port of Utica, he fell into so found a sleep, that they had him into the next Room; and he whom he had sent to the Port, having awak'd him to let him know, that the Tempestuous weather had hindred the Sena­tors from putting to Sea; he dispatch'd a way another messenger, and composing himself a­gain in the Bed, settled again to sleep, and did so, till by the return of the last messen­ger, he had certain intelligence they were gone. We may here further compare him with Alexander too, in that great and dan­gerous Storm that threatned him by the Sedi­tion [Page 463] of the Tribune Metellus, who attempt­ing to publish a Decree for the calling in of Pompey with his Army into the City, at the time of Catiline's Conspiracy, was only, and that stoutly oppos'd by Cato, so that very sharp language and bitter menaces past be­twixt them in the Senate about that affair; but it was the next day in the Fore-Noon, that the controversie was to be decided; where Metellus, besides the favour of the Peo­ple, and of Caesar, (at that time of Pompey's Faction) was to appear accompanied with a Rabble of Slaves and Fencers; and Cato only fortified with his own Courage and Constancy; so that his Relations, Domesticks, and several vertuous People of his Friends were in great apprehensions for him. And to that Degree, that some there were, who past over the whole Night without Sleep, Eating, or Drinking, for the manifest danger they saw him running into; of which his Wife and Sisters did nothing but Weep, and torment themselves in his House; whereas he, on the contrary, Comforted every one, and after ha­ving Supp'd after his usual manner, went to Bed, and slept profoundly till Morning, that one of his fellow Tribunes rouz'd him to go to the encounter. The knowledge we have of the greatness of this Mans Courage by the rest of his Life, may warrant us securely to judge, that his indifference proceeded from a Soul so much elevated above such accidents, that he disdain'd to let it take any more hold of his Fancy, than any other ordinary adventure. [Page 464] In the Naval Engagement, that Augustus won of Sextus Pompeius in Sicily, just as they were to begin the Fight he was so fast asleep, that his Friends were compell'd to wake him to give the Signal of Battel: And this was it that gave Mark Anthony afterwards occasion to reproach him, that he had not the Cou­rage so much as with open Eyes, to behold the order of his own Squadrons, and not to have dar'd to present himself before the Souldiers, till first Agrippa had brought him news of the Victory obtain'd. But as to the business of young Marius, who did much worse (for the day of the last Battel, against Sylla, after he had order'd his Army, given the word and Signal of Battel, he laid him down under the Shade of a Tree to repose himself, and fell so fast asleep, that the Rout, and Fight of his Men could hardly awake him, having seen no­thing of the Fight) he is said to have been at that time so extreamly spent, and worn out with Labour and want of Sleep, that Nature could hold out no longer. Now upon what has been said, the Physicians may determine, whether sleep be so necessary that our lives de­pend upon it: for we read that King Perseus of Macedon being Prisoner at Rome, was wak'd to Death; but Pliny instances such as have lived long without sleep. Herodotus speaks of Nations, where the Men sleep and wake by half years: And they who write the Life of the Wise Epimenides, affirm that he slept seven and fifty years together.

OUR Battel of Dreux, is remarkable for several extraordinary accidents: But such as have no great kindness for the Duke of Guise, nor do much favour his reputation, are willing to have him thought to blame, and that his making a Halt and delaying time with his Forces he Commanded, whilst the Constable who was General of the Army was Rack'd through and through with the Enemies Artillery, his Battalion Routed, and himself taken Prisoner; is not to be excus'd: And that he had much better have ran the hazard of charging the Enemy in the Flank, than staying for the advantage of falling in upon the Rear, to suffer so great and so im­portant a loss. But, besides what the event de­monstrated, who will consider it without passi­on or prejudice, will easily be induced to con­fess, that the aim and design not of a Captain only, but of every Private Souldier ought to look at the Victory in general; and that no particular occurrences, how nearly soever they may concern his own interest, should divert him from that pursuit. Philopoemen in an en­counter with Machanidas, having sent before a good strong party of his Archers, to begin the Skirmish, which were by the Enemy Rout­ed, and pursu'd; who pursuing them, and pushing on the Fortune of their Arms in the [Page 466] heat of Victory; and in that pursuit passing by the Battalion where Philopoemen was, though his Souldiers were impatient to fall on, yet he was better temper'd, and did not think fit to stir from his post, nor to present himself to the Enemy to relieve his Men, but having suffer'd them to be chas'd about the Field, and Cut in pieces before his Face, then charged in upon their Battallion of Foot, when he saw them left Naked by their Horse; and notwith­standing that they were Lacedaemonians, yet taking them in the nick, when thinking them­selves secure of the victory, they began to dis­order their Ranks, he did his business with great facility, and then put himself in pursuit of Machanidas. Which case is very like that of Monsieur de Guise: In that Bloody Battel betwixt Agesilaus, and the Boeotians, which Xe­nophon, who was present at it reports to be the rudest and most Blood that he had ever seen, Agesilaus wav'd the advantage that For­tune presented him, to let the Baeotians Batta­lion pass by, and then to Charge them in the Rear, how certain soever he made himself of the Victory, judging it would rather be an effect of Conduct than Valour, to proceed that way: And therefore, to shew his prowess, rather chose with a wonderful ardour of Courage to charge them in the Front; but he was well beaten, and wounded for his pains, and constrain'd at last to disengage himself, and to take the course he had at first neglected; opening his Battalion to give way to this tor­rent of the Boeotians fury, and being past by, [Page 467] taking notice that they march'd in disorder, like men that thought themselves out of dan­ger, he then pursu'd, and charg'd them in their Flanks and Rear; yet could not so pre­vail as to bring it to so general a Rout, but that they leisurely retreated, still Facing about up­on him, till they were retired into safety.

WHat variety of Herbs soever are shuffled together in the Dish, yet the whole Mass is swallow'd up in one name of a Sallet. In like manner, under the consideration of Names, I will make a hodge-podge of differ'ng Articles. Every Nation has certain Names, that I know not why, are taken in no good sense, as with us, John, William, and Benoist. In the Genealogy of Princes, also there seems to be certain Names fatally affected, as the Ptolemies of Aegypt, the Henry's of England, the Charles's of France, the Baldwins of Flan­dert, and the Williams of our Ancient Aqui­raine, from whence, 'tis said, the Name of Guyenne has its derivation; which would seem far fetch'd, were there not as rude derivations in Plato himself. 'Tis a very frivolous thing in it self, but nevertheless worthy to be re­corded for the strangeness of it, which is writ by an Eye-witness; that Henry Duke of Nor­mandy, Son of Henry the Second, King of Eng­land, [Page 468] making a great Feast in France, the con­course of Nobility and Gentry, was so great, that being, for Sports sake, divided into Troops, according to their Names, in the first Troop, which consisted of Williams, there were found an Hundred and Ten Knights sitting at the Table of that Name, without reckoning the ordinary Gentlemen, and their Servants. It is as pleasant to distinguish the Tables by the Names of the Guests, as it was in the Emperour Geta, to distinguish the several Courses of his Meat, by the first Letters of the Ments themselves, where those that be­gan with B, were serv'd up together, as Brawn, Beef, Bream, Bustards and Becca­ficos, and so of others. Now there is a say­ing, that it is a good thing to have a good Name, that is to say, Credit, and a good Re­pute: But besides this, it is really convenient, to have such a Name as is easie of pronunci­ation, and easie to be remembred; by reason, that Kings, and other great Persons, do by that means the more easily know, and the more hardly forget us; and indeed, of our own Servants, we more frequently call and employ those, whose Names are most ready upon the Tongue. I my self have seen Henry the Second, when he could not for his heart hit of a Gentlemans Name of our Country of Gascony; and moreover was fain to call one of the Queen's Maids of Honour, by the general Name of her Family, her own being so diffi­cult to pronounce or remember. And Socrates thinks it worthy a Fathers Care, to give fine [Page 469] Names to his Children. 'Tis said, that the Foundation of Nostre Dame la Grande, at Poictiers, took its original from hence. That a Debauch'd Young Fellow formerly Living in that place, having got to him a Whore, and at her first coming in, asking her Name, and being answer'd, that it was Mary, he felt himself so suddenly darted through with the Awe of Religion, and the Reverence to that Sacred Name of the Blessed Virgin, that he not only immediately put his Lewd Mistress away from him, but became a re­formed Man, and so continued the remainder of his Life: And that in consideration of this Miracle, there was Erected upon the place, where this Young Mans House stood, first a Chappel Dedicated to our Lady, and afterwards the Church that we now see standing there. This Auricular Reproof wrought upon the Conscience, and that right into the Soul. This that follows, insinuated it self meerly by the sense. Pythagoras be­ing in company with some wild Young Fel­lows, and perceiving that, heated with the Feast, they complotted to go Violate an Ho­nest House, commanded the Singing Wench to alter her Wanton Airs; and by a Solemn, Grave and Spondaick Musick, gently enchan­ted and laid asleep their Ardour. Will not Posterity say, that our Modern Reformation has been wonderfully exact, in having not only scuffled with, and overcome Errors and Vices, and fill'd the World with Devotion. Humility, Obedience, Peace, and all sorts of [Page 470] Vertue; but to have proceeded so far, as to quarrel with the Ancient Baptismal Names of Charles, Lewis, and Francis, to fill the World with Methusalems, Ezekiels, and Malachies, of a more Scriptural sound? A Gentleman, a Neighbour of mine, a great Admirer of Anti­quity, and who was always preferring the Excellency of preceeding Times, in compari­son with this present Age of ours, did not (amongst the rest) forget to Magnifie the Lofty and Magnificent sound of the Gentle­men's Names of those Days, Don Grumedar, Quadregan, Angesilan, &c. which but to hear Nam'd, he perceiv'd to be other kind of Men, than Pierre, Guillot and Michel. I am mighti­ly pleas'd with Jaques Amiot, for leaving throughout a whole French Oration, the La­tine Names entire, without varying and dis­secting them, to give them a French terminati­on. It seem'd a little harsh and rough at first: But already Custom, by the Authority of Plu­tarch, (whom he took for his Example) has overcome that Novelty. I have often wish'd, that such as write Chronicle Histories in La­tine, would leave our Names as they find them, and as they are, and ought to be, for in ma­king Vaudemont, Vallemontances, and Metamor­phosing Names, to make them suit better with the Greek or Latine, we know not where we are, and with the persons of the Men, lose the benefit of the Story. To conclude, 'tis a scurvy Custom, and of very ill consequence, that we have in our Kingdom of France, to call every one by the Name of his Mannor, or [Page 471] Signeury, and the thing in the World that does the most prejudice, and confound Fami­lies and Descents. A Younger Brother of a good Family, having a Mannor left him by his Father, by the Name of which he has been known and honour'd, cannot handsomely leave it; Ten Years after his Decease, it falls into the hand of a stranger, who does the same: Do but judge whereabouts we shall be, concerning the knowledge of these Men. We need look no further for Examples, than our own Royal Family, where every Partage cre­ares a new Sir-name, whilst in the mean time the Original of the Family is totally lost. There is so great liberty taken in these Muta­tions, that I have not in my time seen any one advanc'd by Fortune to any extraordinary con­dition, who has not presently had Genealogick Titles added to him, new, and unknown to his Father, and who has not been inoculated into some illustrious Stem; and by good Luck, the obscurest Families, are the most proper for Fal­sification. How many Gentlemen have we in France, who, by their own talk, are of Roy­al Extraction? More I think, than who will confess they are not. Was it not a pleasant pas­sage of a Friend of mine? There were a great many Gentlemen assembled together, about the dispute of one Lord of a Mannor, with a­nother; which other had in truth, some pre­heminence of Titles and Alliances, above the ordinary Scheme of Gentry. Upon the De­bate of this Priority of Place, every one stand­ing up for himself, to make himself equal to [Page 472] him, alledging one one Extraction, another another, one the near resemblance of Name, another of Arms, another an old worm-eaten Patent, and the least of them, Great-Gran­child to some Foreign King. When they came to sit down to dinner, my Friend, in­stead of taking his place amongst them, retir­ing with most profound Congees, entreated the Company to excuse him, for having hi­therto Liv'd with them at the sawcy rate of a Companion: but being now better inform'd of their Quality, he would begin to pay them the Respect due to their Birth and Grandeur, and that it would ill become him to sit down among so many Princes; and ended the Farce with a Thousand Reproaches. Let us in God's Name satisfie our selves with what our Fa­thers were contented, and with what we are: We are great enough, if we rightly understand how to maintain it: Let us not disown the Fortune and Condition of our Ancestors and lay aside these ridiculous pretences, that can never be wanting to any one that has the Im­pudence to alledge them. Arms have no more Security, than Sir-names. I bear Azure powdered with Trefoiles, Or, with a Lyons Paw of the same armed gules in Fesse. What Privi­lege to continue particularly in my House and Name? A Son-in-Law will transport it into another Family; or some paltry Purchaser will make them his first Arms; there is no­thing wherein there is more change and confu­sion. But this consideration leads me per­force into another subject. Let us pry a little [Page 473] narrowly into, and in God's name examine upon what foundation we erect this Glory and Reputation, for which the World is turn'd topsy turvy: Wherein do we place this Re­nown, that we hunt after with so great fla­grancy, and through so many impediments, and so much trouble? It is in conclusion, Peter or William that carries it, takes it into his pos­session, and whom it only concerns. O what a valiant faculty is hope, that in a mortal subject, and in a moment makes nothing of usurping infinity and immensity, and of sup­plying her Masters Indigence at her pleasure with all things he can imagine, or desire! Na­ture has given us this passion for a pretty toy to play withal. And this Peter or William, what is it but a sound when all is done? or three or four dashes with a Pen, so easie to be varied, that I would fain know to whom is to be attributed the glory of so many Victo­ries, to Guesquin, to Glesquin, or to Gueaquin? and yet there would be something of greater moment in the case, than in Lucian, that Sig­ma should serve Tau with a process for, ‘ Aeneid. lib. 12.—Non levia, aut ludicra petuntur Praemia.’

The chace is there in very good earnest: The question is, which of these Letters is to be re­warded for so many Sieges, Battels, Wounds, [Page 474] Imprisonments, and Services done to the Crown of France, by this famous Constable. Nicholas Denisot never concern'd himself fur­ther than the Letters of his name, of which he has altered the whole Contexture to build up by Anagram the Count of Alsinois, whom he has celebrated with the utmost force and glory of his Poetry, and Painting. And the Historian Suetonius could be satisfied with no­thing he Writ, unless it might redound to his own particular honour, which made him casheer his fathers Sirname Lewis, to leave Tranquillus Successor to the reputation of his writings. Who would believe that Captain Bayard should have no honour, but what he derives from Peter Terrail; and that Antonio Escalin should suffer himself to his face, to be Robb'd of the honour of so many Navigations and Commands at Sea and Land by Captain Paulin and the Baron de la garde; These are injuries of the Pen, common to a thousand people. How many are there in every Fami­ly of the same Name and Sirname? and how many more in several Families, Ages, and Countries? History tells us of three of the name of Socrates, of five Platos, of eight A­ristotles of seven Xenophons, of twenty Deme­trius's, and of twenty Theodores; and how many more she was not acquainted with we may imagine. Who hinders my Groom from call­ing himself Pompey the Great? But after all, by what Vertue, what Authority, or what se­cret conveyances are there, that fix upon my deceased Groom, or the other Pompey, who [Page 475] had his Head cut off in Egypt, this glorious Renown, and these so much honoured flourish­es of the Pen, so as to be of any advantage to them?

What sense have the two Colleagues of the greatest esteem amongst men? Epaminondas of this glorious Verse, that has been so many Ages current in his praise;

or Africanus of this other?

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

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

Such as would improve this Argument, and condemn the oversight of our Leaders in not [Page 477] pushing home the Victory at Moncontour; or accuse the King of Spain of not knowing how to make his best use of the advantage he had against us at St. Quintin, may conclude these oversights to proceed from a Soul alrea­dy drunk with success, or from a Courage, which being full, and overgorg'd with this be­ginning of good Fortune, had lost the appe­tite of adding to it, already having enough to do to digest what it had taken in: He has his Arms full, and can embrace no more: un­worthy of the benefit conferr'd upon him, and the advantage she had put into his hands: for what utility does he reap from it, if not­withstanding he give his Enemy respite to ral­ly to recover his astonishment, and to make head against him? What hope is there that he will dare at another time to attack an Ene­my reunited, and recompos'd, and arm'd a­new with Spite and Revenge, who did not dare to pursue him when routed, and unmann'd by fear?

But withal, what better opportunity can he expect, than that he has lost? 'Tis not here, as in Fencing, where the most hits gain the Prize: For so long as the Enemy is on foot, the Game is new to begin, and that is not to be call'd a Victory, that puts not an end to the [Page 478] War. In the encounter where Caesar had the worse, near to the City of Oricum, he re­proach'd Pompey's Souldiers, that he had been lost, had their General known how to over­come; and afterwards claw'd him away in turn. But why may not a man also argue on the contrary, that it is the effect of a precipi­tous, and insatiate Spirit, not to know how to bound, and restrain its ardour: that it is to abuse the favours of God to exceed the measure he has prescrib'd them: and that a­gain to throw a Mans self into danger, after a Victory obtain'd, is again to expose himself to the mercy of Fortune: and that it is one of the greatest discretions in the Rule of War, not to drive an Enemy to despair. Sylla and Marius in the Associate War having defeated the Marsians; seeing yet a Body of Reserve, that prompted by Despair, was coming on like enraged Brutes to charge in upon them, thought it not convenient to stand their charge. Had not Monsieur de Foix his ardour transported him so precipitously to pursue the remains of the Victory of Ravenna, he had not obscur'd it by his own Death. And yet the recent me­mory of his Example serv'd to preserve Mon­sieur d' Anguien from the same misfortune at the Battel of Serisoles. 'Tis dangerous to at­tack a Man you have depriv'd of all means to escape, but by his Arms: for necessity teaches violent resolutions: Port. Lat­in Decla. Gravissimi sunt morsus irritatae necessitatis, enrag'd necessity bites deep.

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

In like manner, if a Man were to chose, whether he would have his Souldiers Ainquant, and richly accoutred with Damaskt Arms, or arm'd only for necessary defence; this argu­ment would step in, in favour of the first (of which Opinion was Sertorius, Philopoemen, Bru­tus, Caesar, and others) that it is to a Souldi­er an enflaming of Courage, and a spur to Glory, to see himself brave, and withal an imitation to be more obstinate in Fight, having his Arms, which are in a manner his Estate, and whole Inheritance to defend, which is the reason (says Xenophon) why those of Asia, carried there Wives, Concubines, with their choicest Jewels, and greatest Wealth along [Page 480] with them to the Wars. But then these ar­guments would be as ready to stand up for the other side, that a General ought rather to render his Men careless and desperate, than to encrease their solicitude of preserving them­selves: That by this means they will be in a double fear of hazarding their persons; as it will be a double temptation to the Enemy, to fight with greater Resolution, where so great booty and so rich spoils are to be obtain'd: And this very thing has been observ'd in for­mer times, notably to encourage the Romans against the Samnites. Antiochus shewing Hannibal the Army he had raised wonderfully splendid, and Rich in all sorts of Equipage, askt him, if the Romans would be satisfied with that Army? Satisfied? replied the other, yes doubtless were their Avarice never so great. Lycurgus not only forbad his Souldiers all manner of Bravery in their Equipage, but moreover to strip their Conquer'd Enemies, because he would (as he said) that Poverty, and Fru­gality should shine with the rest of the Bat­tel.

At Sieges, and elsewhere, where occasion draws us near to the Enemy, we willingly suffer our Men to Brave, Rate, and Affront the Ene­my with all sorts of injurious Language; and not without some colour of reason: For it is of no little consequence, to take from them all hopes of Mercy, and Composition, in re­presenting to them, that there is no fair Quar­ter to be expected from an Enemy, they have incens'd to that degree, nor other Remedy re­maining, [Page 481] but in the victory. And yet Vitel­lius found himself deceiv'd in this way of pro­ceeding; for having to do with Otho, weaker in the valour of his Souldiers, long unac­customed to war, and effeminated with the delights of the City; he so nettled them at last with injurious Language, reproaching them with Cowardize, and the regret of the Mi­stresses, and entertainments they had left be­hind at Rome, that by this means he inspir'd them with such resolution, as no exhortation had had the power to have done; and himself made them fall upon him, with whom their own Captains before could by no means pre­vail. And indeed when they are Injuries that touch to the quick, it may very well fall out, that he who went but ill-favour'dly to work in the behalf of his Prince, will fall to't with another sort of Mettle, when the quarrel is his own.

To consider of how great importance is the preservation of the General of an Army, and that the Universal aim of an Enemy is levell'd directly at the head, upon which all the others depend; the advice seems to admit of no di­spute, which we know has been taken by so many great Captains of changing their habit, and disguising their persons upon the point of going to engage. Nevertheless the inconve­nience a Man by so doing runs into, is not less than that he thinks to avoid: For the Captain by this means being conceal'd from the know­ledge of his own Men, the Courage they should derive from his Presence and Example, hap­pens [Page 482] by degrees to cool and to decay; and not seeing the wonted As at the Battle of Ivry, in the person of Henry the Great. Marks, and Ensigns of their Leader, they presently conclude him ei­ther Dead, or that, despairing of the business, he is gone to shift for himself; and experi­ence shews us that both these ways have been both successful, and otherwise. What besell Pyrrbus in the Battel he fought against the Consul Levinus in Italy, will serve us to both purposes: For though by shrouding his per­son under the Arms of Demogacles, and ma­king him wear his own, he undoubtedly pre­served his own Life, yet by that very means he was withal very near running into the other mischief of losing the Battel. Alexander, Caesar, and Lucullus, lov'd to make themselves known in a Battel, by Rich Furnitures, and Arms of a particular Lustre and Colour: Agis, Agesilaus, and that great Gilippus on the con­trary us'd to Fight obscurely Armed, and without any imperial attendance, or distin­ction.

Amongst other oversights Pompey is charg'd withal, at the Battle of Pharsalia, he is con­demned for making his Army stand still to re­ceive the Enemies Charge; by reason that (I shall here steal Plutarch's own words, that are better than mine) he by so doing, depriv'd himself of the violent impression, the motion of running adds to the first shock of Arms, and hindred the justle of the Com­batants (who were wont to give great impe­tuosity, and fury to the first Encounter; espe­cially when this came to rush in with their ut­most [Page 483] Vigour, their Courages increasing by the Shouts and the Career) rendering the Soldi­ers Animosity, and Ardour, as a Man may say, more reserv'd, and cold. This is what he says: But if Caesar had come by the worse, why might it not as well have been urg'd by another, that, on the contrary the strongest, and most steady posture of Fighting, is that wherein a Man stands planted firm without motion; and that who makes a halt upon their march, closing up, and reserving their force within themselves for the push of the business, have a great advantage against those who are disordered, and who have already spent half their breath in running on precipi­tously to the charge? Besides, that an Army being a Body made up of so many individual Members, it is impossible for it to move in this fury with so exact a motion, as not to break the order of Battel, and that the best of Foot are not engag'd, before their Fellows can come in to relieve them. In that unnatural Battel betwixt the two Persian Brothers, the Lacedae­monian Clearchus, who commanded the Greeks of Cyrus's party, led them on softly, and with­out precipitation, to the Charge; but coming within fifty paces hurried them on full speed, hoping in so short a Career, both to look to their order, to husband their breath, and at the same time to give an advantage of vio­lence, and impression both to their persons, and their missile Arms: Others have regulated this question in charging thus; if your Ene­my come running upon you, stand firm to re­ceive [Page 484] him; if he stand to receive you, run full drive upon him.

In the Expedition of the Emperour Charles the Fifth into Provence, King Francis was put to choose either to go meet him in Italy, or to expect him in his own Dominions; wherein though he very well considered of how great advantage it was, to preserve his own Terri­tories entire, and clear from the troubles, and inconveniences of the war, to the end that being unexhausted of her stores, it might con­tinually supply Men, and Money at need, that the necessity of War requires at every turn to spoil, and lay waste the Country before them, which cannot very well be done upon ones own; to which may be added that the Coun­try people do not so easily digest such a ha­vock by those of their own party, as from an Enemy, so that Seditions and Commotions might by such means be kindled amongst us; that the Licence of Pillage and Plunder (which are not to be tolerated at home) is a great ease and refreshment against the fatigues, and sufferings of War; and that he who has no o­ther prospect of gain, than his bare pay, will hardly be kept from running home, being but two steps from his Wife, and his own House: That he who lays the Cloth, is ever at the charge of the Feast: That there is more Ala­crity in assaulting than defending, and that the shock of a Battels loss in our own Bowels, is so violent as to endanger the disjointing of the whole Body, there being no passion so con­tagious as that of fear; that is so easily be­liev'd, [Page 485] or that so suddenly diffuses its Poison; and that the Cities that should hear the Rattle of this Tempest, that should take in their Captains, and Souldiers yet trembling and out of breath, would be in danger in this heat and hurry, to precipitate themselves upon some untoward resolution: Notwithstanding all this, so it was, that he chose to recall the For­ces he had beyond the Mountains, and to suf­fer the Enemy to come to him. For he might on the other side imagine, that being at home and amongst his Friends he could not fail of plenty of all manner of conveniences; the Rivers, and Passes he had at his Devotion, would bring him in both Provisions and Money in all security, and without the trouble of Convoy; that he should find his subjects by so much the more affectionate to him, by how much their danger was more near and pressing; that having so many Cities and stops to secure him, it would be in his power to give the Law of Battel at his own opportunity and best ad­vantage; and if it pleas'd him to delay the time, that under covert, and at his own ease, he might see his Enemy founder, and defeat himself with the difficulties he was certain to encounter, being engag'd in an Enemies Coun­try, where before, behind, and on every side War would be made upon him; no means to refresh himself or to enlarge his Quarters, should Diseases infest them, or to lodge his wounded Men in safety: No Money, no Vi­ctuals, but all at the point of the Launce; no leisure to repose and take breath, no know­ledge [Page 486] of the ways, or Country to secure him from Ambushes and Surprizes: And in case of losing a Battle, no possible means of saving the remains. Neither is there want of Exam­ple in both these cases. Scipio thought it much better to go attack his Enemies Terri­tories in Africk, than to stay at home to de­fend his own, and to Fight him in Italy, and it succeeded well with him: But on the con­trary, Hannibal in the same War ruin'd him­self, by abandoning the Conquest of a strange Country, to go defend his own. The Athe­nians having left the Enemy in their own Do­minions, to go over into Sicily, were not sa­voured by Fortune in their design; but Aga­thocles King of Syracuse, found her favourable to him, when he went over into Africk, and left the War at home. By which Examples, and divers others, we are wont to conclude, and with some reason, that events, especially in War, do for the most part depend upon Fortune, who will not be govern'd by, nor submit unto humane prudence; according to the Poet.

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

I Am now become a Grammarian; I who ne­ver Learn'd any Language but by Rote, and who do not yet know Adjective, Conjuncti­on, or Ablative, I think I have Read, that the Romans had a sort of Horses by them call'd Funales, or Dextrarios, which were either Led-Horses, or Horses laid in at several Sta­ges to be taken fresh upon occasion; and thence it is, that we call our Horses of Service, De­striers: And our Romances commonly use the Phrase of destrer for accompagner, to accom­pany. They also call'd such as were dress'd in [Page 488] such sort, that running full speed side by side without Bridle or Saddle, the Roman Gentle­men Arm'd at all pieces, would shift, and throw themselves from the one to the other, desutorios equos. The Numidian Men at Arms, had always a Led-Horse in one Hand, besides that they Rode upon, to change in the heat of Battel: [...]iv. l. 23. Quibus, desultorum in modum, binos trahentibus equos, inter accerrimam saepe pugnam in recentem equum ex fesso armatis, transulta­re, mos erat. Tanta velocitas ipsis, tamque docile equorum genus. Whose use it was, lead­ing along two Horses after the manner of the Desultorum, Arm'd as they were, in the heat of Fight, to vault from a tir'd Horse to a fresh one; so Active were the Men and the Horses so Docile. There are many Horses train'd up to help their Riders, so as to run upon any one that appears with a drawn Sword, to fall both with Mouth and Heels upon any that front or oppose them: But it oft falls out, that they do more harm to their Friends than their Enemies, considering that you cannot loose them from their hold, to reduce them again into order, when they are once engag'd and grappled; by which means you remain at the Mercy of their senselss Quarrel. It hap­ned very ill to Artibius General of the Persian Army, Fighting Man to Man with Onesilus King of Salamis, to be Mounted upon a Horse drest after this manner, it being the occasion of his Death; the Squire of Onesilus cleaving him down with a Scyth betwixt the Shoulders, as the Horse was rear'd up upon his Master And [Page 489] what the Italians report, that in the Battel of Fornoue, King Charles his Horse, with Kicks and Plunges disengag'd his Master from the Enemy, that prest upon him, without which he had been Slain, sounds odly, and he ran a very great hazard, and came strangely off, if it be true. The Mamalukes made their Boast, that they had the most ready Horses of any Cavalry in the World; that by nature and custom they were taught to know and distin­guish the Enemy, they were to fall foul upon with Mouth and Heels, according to a Word or Sign given: As also to gather up with their Teeth Darts and Launces scatter'd upon the Field, and present them to their Ri­ders, as they should have occasion to use them. 'Tis said, both of Caesar and Pompey, that a­mongst other excellent Qualities they were Masters of, they were both excellent Horse­men and particularly of Caesar, that in his Youth, being Mounted on the bare Back, without Saddle, or Bridle, he could make him run, stop and turn, and perform all his Airs, with his hands behind him. As nature de­sign'd to make of his Person, and of Alexander two Miracles of Military Art, so one would say, she had done her utmost to Arm them af­ter an extraordinary manner: For every one knows, that Alexander's Horse Bucephalus had a head enclining to the shape of a Bull, that he would suffer himself to be Mounted and Govern'd by none but his Master, and that he was so Honour'd after his Death, as to have a City erected to his Name. Caesar had also [Page 490] another, who had Fore-feet like the Hands of a Man, his Hoof being divided in the form of Fingers, who likewise was not to be Rid­den by any but Caesar himself; who after his Death dedicated his Statue to the Goddess Venus. I do not willingly alight when I am once on Horse-back; for it is the place where, whether well, or sick, I find my self most a ease. Plato recommends it for health, as also Pliny says it is good for the Stomach, and the Joints. We read in Xenophon a Law, for­bidding any one who was Master of a Horse to Travel on Foot. Trogus and Justinus say, That the Parthians were wont to perform all Offices and Ceremonies, not only in War, but also all Affairs, whether publick or pri­vate, make Bargains, conferr, entertain, take the Air, and all on Horse-back; and that the greatest distinction betwixt Free-men and Slaves amongst them, was, that the one rode on Horse-back, and the other went on Foot: An Institution of which, King Cyrus was the founder. There are several Examples in the Roman History, (and Suetonius more parti­cularly observes it of Caesar) of Captains, who in pressing occasions Commanded their Cavalry to alight, both by that means to take from them all hopes of Flight, as also for the advantage they hop'd for in this sort of Fight. Quo haud dubie superat Romanus. Wherein the Romans did questionless excel: So says Livy; Liv. l. 3. however the first thing they did to pre­vent the Mutinies and Insurrections of Nations of late Conquest, was to take from them their [Page 491] Arms and Horses: And therefore it is that we so often meet in Caesar: Caesars Com. Arma proferri, jumen­ta produci, obsides dari jubet. He commanded the Arms to be produc'd, the Horses brought out, and Hostages to be given. The Grand Signior to this Day, suffers not a Christian, or a Jew, to keep a Horse of his own, throughout his Empire. Our Ancestors, at the time they had War with the English, in all their greatest Engagements, and pitch'd Battels, fought for the most part on Foot, that they might have nothing but their own Force, Courage and Constancy, to trust to, in a Quarrel of so great Concern, as Life and Honour. You stake (whatever Chrysantes in Xenophon says to the contrary,) your Valour, and your For­tune, upon that of your Horse, his Wound or Death brings your Person into the same dan­ger; his Fear or Fury shall make you reputed Rash or Cowardly; if he have an ill Mouth, or will not answer to the Spur, your Honour must answer it: And therefore I do not think it strange, that those Battels I spoke of before, were more firm and furious, than those that are Fought on Horse-back.

[Page 492] Their Battels were much better disputed: Now adays there are nothing but Routs: pri­mus clamor, atque impetus rem decernit. The first shout or the first charge puts an end to the business: And the Arms we choose to make use of in so great a hazard, should be as much as possible at our own command: Wherefore I should advise to choose them of the shortest sort, and such of which we are able to give the best account. A man may repose more confi­dence in a Sword he holds in his Hand, than in a Bullet he discharges out of a Pistol, wherein there must be a concurrence of seve­ral executions, to make it perform its office, the Powder, the Stone, and the Wheel, if any of which fail, it at lest endangers your Fortune: A Man strikes much surer than the Air directs him.

But of that Weapon I shall speak more fully, when I come to compare the Arms of the Anci­ents with those of modern use, though by the way, the astonishment of the ear abated, which every one grows familiar with in a little time. [Page 493] I look upon it as a Weapon of very little exe­cution, and hope we shall one day lay it aside. That missile Weapon which the Italians for­merly made use of both with Fire and with­out, was much more terrible: They called a certain kind of Javeline Armed at the point with an Iron three foot long, that it might pierce through and through an Armed Man, Phalarica, which they sometimes in Field-ser­vice darted by hand: sometimes from several sorts of Engines for the defence of beleagured places: The shaft whereof being roul'd round with Flax, Wax, Rozin, Oyl, and other com­bustible matter, took Fire in its flight, and lighting upon the Body of a Man, or his Tar­guet, took away all the use of Arms and Limbs. And yet coming to close fight, I should think they should also endamage the Assailant, and that the Camp being as it were planted with these Flaming Truncheons, should produce a common inconvenience to the whole crowd.

They had moreover other devices which custom made them perfect in (which will seem incre­dible to us who have not seen them) by which they supply'd the effects of our powder and [...] They darted their Piles with so great [Page 494] violence, as oft-times transfixt two Targets, and two Armed Men at once, and pinn'd them together. Neither was the effect of their slings less certain of execution, or of shorter carri­age: Saxis globosis funda, Liv. l. 38. mare apartum inces­santes: coronas modici circuli magno ex interval­lo loci assueti trajicere: non capita modo hostium vulnerabant, sed quem locum destinassent. Cull­ing round stones from the shoar for their slings: and with them practising at a great distance to throw through a Circle of very small circumference, they would not only wound an Enemy in the head; but hit any other part at pleasure. Their pieces of Batte­ry had not only the Execution, Id. Ibid. but the thun­der of our Cannon also: ad ictus moenium cum terribili sonitu editos, pavor, & trepidatio coepit. At the Battery of the Walls, which is per­formed with a dreadful noise, the defendants began to fear and tremble within. The Gauls our Kinsmen in Asia, abominated these trea­cherous missile Arms, it being their use to fight with greater Bravery Hand to Hand. Non tam patentibus plagis moventur, Id. Ibid. ubi latior, quam alitor plaga est, etiam gloriosius se pugnare putant: iidem quum aculeus sagittae aut glandis abditae introrsus tenui vulnere in speciem urit: tum in rabiem & pudorem tam parva perire pestes versi, prosternunt corpora humi: They are not so much concern'd at large wounds; when a wound is wider than deep, they think they have fought with greater glory: But when they find themselves tormented within, under the aspect of a slight wound, with the point of a [Page 495] Dart, or some concealed glandulous Body, then transported with fury and shame, to pe­rish by so small, and contemptible an Officer of death, they fall to the ground; an expression of something very like a harquebuse shot. The ten thousand Greeks in their long and famous retreat, met with a Nation who very much gall'd them with great and strong Bows, car­rying Arrows so long, that taking them up one might return them back like a Dart, and with them pierce a Buckler, and an Armed Man through and through. The Engines of Dionysius his invention at Syracusa, to shoot, vast massy Darts, and Stones of a prodigious greatness with so great impetuosity, and at so great a distance, came very near to our mo­dern inventions. But in this discourse of Horses and Horsemanship, we are not to for­get the pleasant posture of one Maistre Pierre Pol, a Doctor of Divinity, upon his Mule, whom Menstrelet reports always to have rid aside through the streets of Paris like a Wo­man. He says also elsewhere, that the Gascons had terrible Horses, that would wheel, and make the Pirouette in their full speed, which the French, Picards, Dutch, and Brabanters lookt upon as a Miracle, having never seen the like before; which are his very words. Caesar speaking of the Swedes; in the charges they make on Horse-back, says he, they often throw themselves off to fight on foot, having taught their Horses not to stir in the mean time from the place, to which they presently run again upon occasion; and according to [Page 496] their custom, nothing is so unmanly, and so base as to use Saddles, or Pads, and they [...] spise such as make use of those convenienc [...] Insomuch that being but a very few in number, they fear not to attack a great many. That which I have formerly wondred at, to see a Horse made to perform all his Aris with a Switch only, and the Reins upon his Neck, w [...]s common with the Massilians, who rid their Horses without Saddle or Bridle.

Equi sine froenis deformis ipse cursus, Liv, l. 35. rigida cervice, & extento capite currentium. The Career of a Horse without a Bridle must needs be ungrateful, his Neck being extended stiff, and his Nose thrust out. King Alphonso, he who first instituted the Order des Chevaliers de la Bande, or de l' Escherpe in Spain, amongst other rules of the Order gave them this, That they should never ride Mule or Mulet, upon penalty of a Mark of Silver; which I had lately out of Guevara's Letters, which whoe­ver gave them the title of Golden Epistles, had another kind of opinion of them than I have, [Page 497] and perhaps saw more in them than I do. The [...]ourtier says, that till his time it was a dis­grace to a Gentleman to ride one of these Creatures: But the Abyssines on the contrary, as they are nearer advanc'd to the person of Prester John, do affect to be mounted upon large Mules, for the greater dignity and grari­deur. Xenophon tells us, that the Assyrians were fain to keep their Horses fetter'd in the Stable, they were so fierce and vicious: and that it requir'd so much time to loose and har­ness them, that to avoid any disorder this te­dious preparation might bring upon them, in case of surprize, they never sat down in their Camp, till it was first well fortified with Dit­ches and Rampiers. His Cyrus, who was so great a Master in all manner of Horse Service, kept his Horses to their ordinary, and never suffer'd them to have any thing to eat till first they had earn'd it by the sweat of some kind of exercise. The Scythians when in the Field, and in scarcity of provisions, us'd to let their Hor­ses bloud, which they drank, and sustain'd themselves by that diet. ‘ Ma [...]t. l. 2.Venit & epoto Sarmata pastus equo.’

Those of Crotta being besieg'd by Metellus, were in so great necessity for drink, that they were fain to quench their thirst with their Horses Urine: and to shew how much better cheap the Turkish Armies support themselves [Page 498] than our European Forces, 'tis said, that besides that the Souldiers drink nothing but Water, and eat nothing but Rice and Salt Flesh pul­veriz'd (of which every one may easily carry about with him a months provision) they know how to feed upon the Bloud of their Horses, as well as the Moscovite and Tartar, and salt it for their use. These new discover'd people of the Indies, When the Spaniards first landed amongst them, had so great an opinion both of the Men and Horses, that they look'd upon the first as Gods, and the other Animals eno­bled above their nature. Insomuch that after they were subdu'd, coming to sue for Peace, and to bring them Gold and Provisions, they fail'd not to present of the same to the Horses, with the same kind of harangue to them, they had made to the other; interpreting their neighing for a language of Truce and Friend­ship. In these nearer Indies, to ride upon an Elephant was the first place of Honour, the se­cond to ride in a Coach with four Horses, the third to ride upon a Camel, and the last to be carried, or drawn by own Horse only. Some one of our late Writers tells us, that he has been in a Country in those parts, where they ride upon Oxen with Pads, Stirrups, and Bri­dles, and very much at their ease. Quintas Fabius Maximus Rutilianus in a Battel with the Samnites seeing his Horse, after three or four Charges, had fail'd of breaking into the Enemies battalion, took his course, to make them unbridle all their Horses, so that having nothing to check their Career, they might [Page 499] through Weapons and Men, open the way to his foot, Liv. l. 40. who by that means gave them a bloudy defeat. The same command was given by Quintus Fulvius Flaccus against the Celtiberians: Id cum majore vi equorum facietis, si effroenatos in hostes equos immittatis: quod saepe Romanos equites cum laude fecisse memoriae proditum est. Detractisque froenis his ultro citreque cum magna strage hostium, infractis omnibus hastis, transcurrerunt. You will do your business with greater advantage of your Horses strength, if you spur them anbridled upon the Enemy, as it is recorded the Roman Horse to their great Glory have often done. And their Bits being pull'd off without breaking a Launce, to have charg'd through and through, with greater Slaughter of the Enemy: The Duke of Muscovie was an­ciently oblig'd to pay this reverence to the Tartars, that when they sent any one Embassy to him, he went out to meet them on foot, and presented them with a Mazer, or Goblet of Mares Milk (a beverage of greatest esteem amongst them) and so great, that if in Drink­ing, a drop fell by chance upon the Horses Main, they thought themselves indispensably bound to lick it off with their Tongue: The Army that Bajazet had sent into Russia, was overwhelm'd with so dreadful a Tempest of Snow, that to shelter, and preserve them­selves from starving, many ript up, and Em­bowell'd their Horses, to creep into their Bel­lies, and enjoy the benefit of that Vital heat. Bajazet, after that furious Battel wherein he was overthrown by Tamerlain, was in a hope­full [Page 500] way of securing his own person by the fleetness of an Arabian Mare he had under him, had he not been constrain'd to let her drink her fill at the ford of a River in his way, which render'd her so heavy and indispos'd, that he was afterwards easily overtaken by those that pursu'd him: They say indeed that to let a Horse stale takes him off his mettle, but I should rather have thought that drinking would have refresht her, and reviv'd her spi­rits: Croesus marching his Army through cer­tain furrs near Sardis, met with an infinite number of Serpents, which the Horses de­voured with great appetite, and which Hero­dotus says was a prodigy of ominous portent to his Affairs. We call a Horse Cheval entier, that has his Main, Ears, and other parts entire, and no other will pass muster. The Lacedae­monians having defeated the Athenians in Sicily, returning triumphant from the victory into the City of Syracusa, amongst other insolen­cies, caus'd all the Horses they had taken to be shorn, and led in triumph. Alexander fought with a Nation call'd Daae; a people whose Discipline it was to march two and two together, Arm'd on Horse-back to the War, and being in Fight one always alighted, and so they fought one while on Horse-back and another on Foot, one after another by turns. I do not think that for graceful riding, any Nation in the World excells the French; though a good Horseman, according to our way of speaking, seems rather to respect the Courage of the Man than his Horsemanship [Page 501] and address in riding. Of all that ever I saw the most knowing in that Art, that had the best seat, and the best method in breaking Horses, was Monsieur de Carnevalet who ser­ved our King Henry the Second: I have seen a Man ride with both his feet upon the Saddle, take off his Saddle, and at his return take it up again, refit, and remount it, riding all the while full speed: having Gallopt over a Bon­net, make at it very good shoots, backwards with his Bow, take up any thing from the ground, setting one foot down and the other in the Stirrup; with twenty other Apes-tricks, which he got his living by. There has been seen in my time at Constantinople two Men up­on an Horse, who in the height of his speed would throw themselves off, and into the Sad­dle again by turn, and one who Bridled and Saddled his Horse with nothing but his Teeth. Another who betwixt two Horses, one foot upon one Saddle, and another upon the other, carrying another upon his Shoulders; would ride full career, the other standing bolt up­right upon him, making very good shoots with his Bow. Several who would ride full speed with their heels upwards, and their Hands upon the Saddle betwixt several Scymi­ters, with the points upward fixt in the Har­ness. When I was a Boy, the Prince of Sal­mona, riding a rough Horse at Naples to all his Airs, held Reals under his Knees and Toes; as if they had been nail'd there, to shew the firmness of his Seat.

I Should willingly pardon our people for ad­mitting no other pattern, or rule of per­fection, than their own peculiar manners and customs. It being a common Vice, not of the vulgar only, but almost of all Men, to walk in the Beaten Road, their Ancestors have trod before them: I am content when they see Fabritius or Lelius, that they look upon their Countenance and Behaviour as Barba­rous, seeing they are neither Cloath'd no [...] Fashion'd according to our Mode. But I find fault with their singularity, when it arrives to that degree of indiscretion, as to suffer them­selves to be impos'd upon by authority of the present Usance, as every Month to alter their Opinion, if Custom so require, and that they should so vary their judgment in their own particular concern: When they wore the Belly-pieces of their Doublets up as high as their Breasts, they stifly maintain'd that they were in their proper place: Some Years after they were slipt down between their Thighs, and then they could laugh at the former fashi­on as uneasie and intolerable. The fashion now in use, makes them absolutely condemn the other two, with so great indignation, and so universal contempt, that a Man would think, there was a certain kind of Madness crept in [Page 503] amongst them, that infatuates their Under­standings, to this strange degree. Now see­ing that our change of Fashions is so prompt and sudden, that the inventions of all the Taylors in the World, cannot furnish out new Whim-whams enow to feed our vanity withal; there will often be a necessity, that the despised ones must again come in vogue, and even those immediately after fall into the same contempt, and that the same judgment must in the space of Fifteen or Twenty Years, take up not only different, but contrary Opi­nions, with an incredible lightness and incon­stancy: There is not any of us so cautelous and discreet, that suffers not himself to be gull'd with this contradiction, and both in external and internal sight to be insensibly blinded. I will here muster up some old Cu­stoms, that I have in memory, some of them the same with ours, the others different, to the end, that bearing in mind this continual variation of humane things, we may have our judgments clearer, and more firmly settled: The thing in use amongst us of fighting with Rapier and Cloak, was in practice amongst the Romans also, Sinistris sagos involvant, Caesar de bello civili, lib. 1. gla­diosque distringunt. They wrapt their Cloaks upon the Left Arm, and handled the Sword with the Right, says Caesar; And I observe an old Vicious Custom of our Nation, which continues yet amongst us, which is to stop passengers we meet upon the Road, to compel them to give an account who they are; and to take it for an Injury, and just cause of quarrel. [Page 504] if they refuse to do it: At the Baths, which the Ancients made use of every Day before they went to Dinner, and as frequently as we wash our Hands, they at first only bath'd their Arms and Legs; but afterwards, and by a Custom that has continued for many Ages in most Nations of the World, they bath'd stark Naked in mixt and perfum'd Waters, looking upon it as a great simplicity to bath in mee [...] Water: The most delicate and affected, per­fum'd themselves all over Three or Four times a Day. They often caused their Hair to be pincht off; as the Women of France have some time since, taken up a Custom to do their Foreheads. ‘ Mat. lib. 2. Epig. 62.Quod pectus, quod crura tibi, quod brachia vellis.’ ‘How dost thou twitch thy Breast, thy Arms and Thighs.’ though they had Ointments proper for that purpose.

they delighted to lie soft, and pretended it for a great testimony of hardiness, to lie upon a Matrice. They did Eat lying upon Beds, much after the manner of the Turks in this Age.

And 'tis said of the younger Cato, that after the Battel of Pharsalia, being entred into a Melancholick Disposition, at the ill posture of the Publick Affairs, he took his repose always sitting, assuming a strict and severe course of Life. It was also their Custom to kiss the Hands of great Persons; the more and better to Honour, and Caress them: And meeting with their equals, they always Kist in salutati­on, as do the Venetians.

In petitioning, or saluting any great Man, they us'd to lay their Hands upon his Knees. Fasicles the Philosopher and Brother of Crates, instead of laying his Hand upon the Knee, laid it upon his Private Parts, and being rude­ly repulst by him to whom he made that inde­cent Complement; What, said he, is not that part your own as well as the other? They us'd to Eat their Fruits as we do after Dinner. They wipt their Arses (let the Ladies if they please mince it smaller) with a Spunge; which is the reason that Spongia is a smutty Word in Latin; Which Spunge was also fastned to the end of a stick, as ap­pears by the Story of him, who as he was led [Page 506] along to be thrown to the wild Beasts in the sight of the people, asking leave to do his business, and having no other ways to dispatch himself, forc't the Spunge and Stick down his own Throat and choaked himself. They us'd to Terge after Coition with perfum'd Wool.

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

They us'd to Collation betwixt Meals, and had in Summer Sellars of Snow to cool their Wine; and some there were who made use of Snow in Winter, not thinking their Wine cool enough at that Cold Season of the Year. The Men of Quality had their Cup-bearers, and Carvers, and their Buffoons to make them sport: They had their Meat served up in Winter, upon a sort of Chafing-Dishes; which were set upon the Table, and had portable Kitchins (of which I my self have seen some) wherein all their service was car­ried after them.

In Summer they had a contrivance, to bring fresh and clear Rills through their lower Rooms, wherein were great store of living Fish, which the Guests took out with their own Hands to be drest; every Man accord­ing to his own liking. Fish has ever had this preeminence, and keeps it still, that the great ones all pretend to be Cooks in their favour, and indeed the taste is more delicate, than that of Flesh, at least to me. But in all sorts of Magnificence, Debaunchery, and voluptu­ous Inventions of Effeminacy and Expence, we do in truth all we can to parallel them, for our Wills are as corrupt as theirs: But we want power to reach them; and our force is no more able to reach them in their Vicious, than in their Vertuous Qualities; for both the one and the other, proceed from a vigour of Soul, which was without comparison great­er in them, than in us: And Souls by how much the weaker they are, by so much have they less power to do, or very well, or very ill: The highest place of honour amongst them was the middle; the name going be­fore, and that following after, either in writing or speaking; had no signification of Grandeur, as is evident by their writings, they will sooner say Oppius and Caesar, than [Page 508] Caesar and Oppius, and me, and thee, than thee, and me, which is the reason that made me formerly take notice in the Life of Flami­nius, in our French Plutarch, of one passage, where it seems as if the Author, speaking of the jealousie of honour, betwixt the AEtoli­ans and Romans, about the winning of a Bat­tel, they had with their joint Forces obtain'd, made it of some importance, that in the Greek Songs, they had put the Aetolians be­fore the Romans: If there be no Amphibolo­gy, or double dealing in the words of the French Translation, an instance of which I present you out of Plutarch, though Monsieur de Montaigne did not think it worth repeat­ing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE Judgment is an Utensil proper for all subjects, and will have an Oar in eve­ry thing: Which is the reason, that in these Essays I take hold of all occasions. Where, though it happen to be a subject I do not ve­ry well understand, I try however, sounding it at a distance, and finding it too deep for my stature, I keep me on the firm shoar: And this knowledge that a Man can proceed no further, is one effect of its Vertue, even in the most inconsidering sort of Men. One while in an idle and frivolous subject, I try to find out matter whereof to compose a Body, and then to prop, and support it. Another while I employ it in a noble subject, one that has been tost and tumbled by a Thousand Hands, wherein a Man can hardly possibly in­troduce any thing of his own, the way being so beaten on every side, that he must of neces­sity walk in the steps of another. In such a case, 'tis the work of the Judgment to take the way that seems best, and of a Thousand Paths, to determine that this or that, was the best chosen. I leave the choice of my Argu­ments to Fortune, and take that she first pre­sents me; they are all alike to me, I never de­sign to go through any of them; for I never see all of any thing: Neither do they who so largely promise to shew it others. Of a hun­dred [Page 510] Members and Faces that every thing has, I take one, one while to look it over only, a­nother while to ripple up the Skin, and some­times to pinch it to the Bones: I give a Stab, not so wide, but as deep as I can; and am for the most part, tempted to take it in hand by some absolute gracefulness I discover in it. Did I know my self less, I might p [...]rhaps ven­ture to handle something or other to the bot­tom, and to be deceiv'd in my own inability, but sprinkling here one word, and there ano­ther, Patterns cut from several Pieces, and scatter'd without design, and without en­gaging my self too far, I am not responsible for them, or oblig'd to keep close to my sub­ject, without varying at my own liberty and pleasure, and giving up my self to doubt and incertainty, and to my own governing Me­thod, Ignorance. All Motion discovers us. The very same Soul of Caesar, that made it self so Conspicuous in Marshalling and Com­manding the Battle of Pharsalia, was also seen as Solicitous and Busie in the softer Affairs of Love. A man makes a Judgment of a Horse, not only by seeing his Menage in his Airs, but by his very walk, nay, and by seeing him stand in the Stable. Amongst the Functions of the Soul, there are some of a lower and meaner Form, who does not see her in those Inferiour Offices, as well as those of Nobler Note, never fully discover her; and perad­venture, she is best discover'd, where she moves her own natural pace. The winds of Passions take most hold of her in her highest [Page 513] flights; and, the rather, by reason that she wholly applys her self to, and exercises her whole Vertue upon every particular subject, and never handles more than one thing at a time, and that not according to it, but ac­cording to her self. Things in respect to themselves, have peradventure their Weight, Measures and Conditions; but when we once take them into us, the Soul forms them as she pleases. Death is Terrible to Cicero, Cove [...] ­ed by Cato, and Indifferent to Socrates. Health, Conscience, Authority, Knowledge, Riches, Beauty, and their contraries, do all strip them­selves at their entring into us, and receive a new Robe, and of another Fashion, from eve­ry distinct Soul, and of what Colour, Brown, Bright, Green, Dark; and Quality, Sharp, Sweet, Deep, or superficial, as best pleases them, for they are not yet agreed upon any common▪ Standard of Forms, Rules, or Pro­ceedings; evey one is a Queen in her own Dominions. Let us therefore no more excuse our selves upon the External Qualities of things, it belongs to us to give our selves an account of them. Our good or ill, has no other dependance but on our selves. 'Tis there that our Offerings and our Vows are due, and not to Fortune: She has no power over our Manners, on the contrary, they draw, and make her follow in their Train, and cast her in their own Mould. Why should not I Censure Alexander; Roaring and Drinking at the prodigious [...]ate he sometimes us'd to do? Or, if he plaid at Chess, what string of his [Page 514] Soul was not touch'd by this idle and Childish Game? I hate and avoid it, because it is not Play enough, that it is too grave and serious a Diversion, and I am asham'd to lay out as much Thought and Study upon that, as would serve to much better uses. He did not more pump his Brains about his Glorious Expediti­on into the Indies; and another that I will not name, took not more pains to unravel a pas­sage, upon which depends the safety of all Mankind. To what a degree then does this ridiculous Diversion molest the Soul, when [...]ll her Faculties shall be summon'd together upon this Trivial Account? And how fair an oppor­tunity she herein gives every one to know▪ and to make a right Judgment of himself? I do not more throughly sift my self in any o­ther posture, than this. What Passion are we e [...]empted from in this insignificant Game [...] Anger, Spite, Malice, Impatience, and a v [...] ­hement desire of getting the better in [...] con­cern, wherein it were more excusable, to be Ambitious of being overcome: For to be E­minent, and to excel above the common rate in frivolous things, is nothing graceful in a Man of Quality and Honour. What I say in this Example, may be said in all others. Eve­ry Particle, every Employment of Man, does Exalt or Accuse him, equally with any other▪ Democritus and Heraclitus were Two Philoso­phers, of which, the first finding Humane Condition Ridiculous and Vain, never ap­pear'd abroad, but with a Jeering and Laugh­ing Countenance: Whereas Heraclitus Com­miserating [Page 515] that Condition of ours appear'd always with a Sorrowful Look, and Tears in his Eyes.

I am clearly for the first Humour; not because it is more pleasant to Laugh, than to Weep; but because it is Ruder, and expresses more Contempt, than the other; because I think we can never be sufficiently despis'd to our de­sert. Compassion and Bewailing, seem to im­ploy some Esteem of, and Value for the thing Bemoan'd: Whereas the things we Laugh at, are by that exprest to be of no Moment or Re­pute. I do not think that we are so Unhap­py, as we are Vain, or have in us so much Ma­lice, as Folly; we are not so full of Mischief, as Inanity: Nor so Miserable, as we are Vile and Mean. And therefore Diegenes, who past away his time in rowling himself in his Tub, and made nothing of the Great Alexander, esteeming us no better than Flies, or Bladders pu [...]t up with Wind, was a sharper, and more penetrating, and consequently in my opinion, a Juster Judge, than Timon Sirnam'd the Man [...]ter; for what a Man Hates he lays to Heart: This last was an Enemy to all Mankind, did positively desire our Ruin, and avoided our [Page 516] Conversation as dangerous, proceeding from Wicked and Deprav'd Natures: The other valued us so little, that we could neither trou­ble, nor infect him by our Contagion; and left us to Herd with one another, not out of Fear, but Contempt of our Society: Conclu­ding us as incapable of doing good, as ill. Of the same strain was Sta [...]lius his Answer, when Brut [...]s Courted him into the Conspira­cy against Caesar: He was satisfied that the E [...] ­terprize was Iust; but he did not think Me [...] ­kind so considerable, as to deserve a Wise M [...]n's Concern: According to the Doctrine of Hege­sias; who said, That a Wise Man ought to [...] nothing but for himself, foramuch as he only was worthy of it: And to the saying of T [...] ­dorus, That it was not reasonable a Wise Man should hazard himself for his Country, and [...]danger Wisdom, for a company of Fools. Ou [...] Condition is as Ridiculous, as Risible.

A Rhetorican of times past, said, That to make little things appear great, was his profession. This is a Shooe-maker, who can make a great Shooe for a little Foot. They would in Sparta have sent such a Fellow to be Whip'd, for making profession of a lying and deceitful Art: And I fansie, that Archida­mus who was King of that Country, was [...] [Page 517] little surpriz'd at the Answer of Thucydides, when enquiting of him, which was the better Wrestler, Pericles, or he; he reply'd, that it was hard to affirm; for when I have thrown him, said he, he always perswades the Specta­tors, that he had no fall, and carries away the Prize. They who Paint, Pounce and Plaister up the Ruins of Women, filling up their Wrinckles and Deformities, are less to blame; because it is no great matter, whether we see them in their Natural Complexions, or no. Whereas these make it their business to de­ceive not our sight only, but our Judgments, and to Adulterate and Corrupt the very Es­sence of things. The Republicks that have maintain'd themselves in a Regular and well Modell [...]d Government, such as those of Lace­daemon and [...]reet, had Orators in no very great Esteem. Aristo did wisely define Rhetorick to be a Science to perswade the People; Socrates and Plato, an Art to Flatter and Deceive: And those who deny it in the general descrip­tion, verifie it throughout in their Precepts. The Mahometans will not suffer their Children to be Instructed in it, as being useless, and the Athenians perceiving of how pernicious Consequence the Practice of it was, it being in their City of universal Esteem, order'd the principal par [...], which is to move Affecti­ons, with their Exordiums and Perorations, to be taken away. 'Tis an Engine invented, to manage and govern a disorderly and tumul­tuous Rabble, and that never is made use of but like Physick to the Sick, in the Paroxisms of [Page 518] a discompos'd Estate. In those, where the Vulgar, or the Ignorant, or both together▪ have been all powerful, and able to give the Law, as in those of Athens, Rhodes and Ro [...] ▪ and where the Publick Affairs have been in [...] continual Tempest of Commotion, to such places have the Orators always repair'd. And in truth, we shall find few persons in those Re­publicks, who have push'd their Fortunes [...]o any great degree of Eminence, without the assistance of Elocution: Pompey, Caesar, C [...]s­sus, Lucullus, Lentulus and Metellus, have thence taken their chiefest Spring to mo [...] to that degree of Authority, to which th [...] did at last arrive: Making it of greater [...] to them, than Arms, contrary to the opinio [...] of better times. For L. Volumnius speaking publickly in favour of the Election of Q. Fa­bius, and Pub. Decius, to the Consular Digni­ty: These are Men, said he▪ born for W [...] and great in Execution, in the Combat of the Tongue altogether to seek; Spirits truly Con­sular. The Subtle, Eloquent and Learned, are only good for the City, to make Praeton of, to administer Justice. Eloquence Flou­rish'd most at Rome, when the Publick Affairs were in the worst condition, and the Repub­lick most disquieted with intestine Commoti­ons, as a frank and untill'd Soil bears the worst Weeds. By which it should seem, that a Monarchical Government has less need of it [...] than any other: For the Brutality, and Faci­lity, natural to the common People, and that render them subject to be turn'd and twin'd, [Page 519] and led by the Ears, by this charming harmo­ny of words, without weighing or consider­ing the truth and reality of things by the force of reason: This Facility, I say, is not easily [...]ound in a single person, and it is also more easie by good Education and Advice, to secure him from the impression of this Poison. There was never any famous Orator known to come out of Persia, or Macedon.

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

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

And yet even the Greeks themselves did very much admire, and highly applaud the order and disposition that Paulus Aemilius observ'd in the Feast he made them at his return from Macedon: But I do not here speak of effects, I speak of words only. I do not know whe­ther it may have the same operation upon o­ther [Page 521] Men, that it has upon me: But when I hear our Atchitects thunder out their Bombast words of Pilasters, Architraves and Corni­ces, of the Corinthian and Dorick Orders, and such like stuff, my imagination is presently possess'd with the Palace of Apollidonius in A­madis de Gaule; when after all, I find them but the paltry pieces of my own Kitchin Door. And to hear Men talk of Metonymies, Metaphors and Allegories, and other Grammar words, would not a Man think they signified some rare and exotick form of speaking? And this other is a Gullery of the same stamp, to call the Offices of our Kingdom by the lofty Titles of the Romans, though they have no si­militude of Function, and yet less Authority and Power. And this also, which I doubt will one Day turn to the Reproach of this Age of ours, unworthily and indifferently to confer upon any we think fit, the most glori­ous Sir-names with which Antiquity Honour'd but one or two persons in several Ages. Pla­to carried away the Sir-name of Divine, by so universal a consent, that never any one re­pin'd at it, or attempted to take it from him: And yet the Italians who pretend, and with good reason, to more spritely Wits, and sounder Discourses, than the other Nations of their time, have lately Honour'd Aretine with the same Title; in whose Writings, save a tumid Phrase, set out with smart Periods, in­genious indeed, but far fetch'd, and Fanta­stick, and the Eloquence (be it what it will) I see nothing in him above the ordinary Wri­ters [Page 522] of his time, so far is he from approach­ing the Ancient Divinity. And we make no­thing of giving the Sir name of Great to Princes, that have nothing in them above a Po­pular Grandeur.

ATtilius Regulus, General of the Roman Army in Africk, in the height of all his Glory and Victories over the Carthaginians, writ to the Republick to acquaint them, that a certain Hind he had left in trust with his whole Estate, which was in all, but Seven A­cres of Land, was run away withall his In­struments of Husbandry, entreating therefore, that they would please to call him home, that he might take order in his own Affairs, left his Wife and Children should suffer by thi [...] disaster: Whereupon the Senate appointed another to manage his Business, caus'd his Losses to be made good, and order'd his Fa­mily to be maintain'd at the Publick Expence. The Elder Cato returning Consul from Spain, sold his Horse of Service, to save the Money it would have cost in bringing him back by Sea into Italy; and being Governour of Sar­dignia, made all his Visits on foot, without o­ther Train, than one Officer of the Republick, that carried his Robe and a Censer for Sacri­fices; and for the most part carried his Mail [Page 523] himself. He bragg'd, that he had never worn a Gown that cost above Ten Crowns, nor had ever sent above Ten Pence to the Market for one Days Provision, and that as to his Coun­try Houses, he had not one that was rough cast on the outside. Scipio Aemilianus, after two Triumphs, and two Consul-ships, went an Embassy with no more than Seven Servants in his Train. 'Tis said, that Homer had ne­ver more than one, Plato three, and Zeno, founder of the Sect of Stoicks, none at all. Tiberius Gracchus was allow'd but Five Pence Half-penny a Day, when employ'd as Publick Minister about the Publick Affairs, and being at that time the greatest Man of Rome.

IF we would sometimes bestow a little Con­sideration upon our selves, and employ the time we spend in prying into other Mens Actions, and discovering things without us, in examining our own Abilities, we should soon perceive of how infirm and decaying Materi­als this Fabrick of ours is compos'd. Is it not a singular testimony of Imperfection, that we cannot establish our satisfaction in any one thing, and that even our own Fancy and De­sire, should deprive us of the power to choose what is most proper and useful for us? A ve­ry good proof of this, is the great Dispute [Page 524] that has ever been amongst the Philosophers, of finding out a Man's principal and soveraign Good, that continues yet, and will eternally continue, without Resolution, or Accord.

The absent thing we covet best doth seem, The next that comes captivates our Esteem At the same rate.

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

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

THere are a sort of little Knacks, and fri­volous Subtilties, from which Men some­times expect to derive Reputation and Ap­plause: As the Poets, who compose whole Poems, with every Line beginning with the same Letter: We see the shapes of Eggs, Globes, Wings and Hatchets, cut out by the Ancient Greeks, by the measure of their Ver­ses, making them longer or shorter, to repre­sent such or such a Figure. Of this nature was his Employment, who made it his busi­ness, to compute into how many several Or­ders the Letters of the Alphabet might be transpos'd, and found out that incredible number mention'd in Plutarch. I am mightily pleas'd with the humour of the Gentleman, who, having a Man brought before him, that had learn'd to throw a Grain of Millet with such dexterity and assurance, as never to miss the Eye of a Needle; and being afterwards entreated to give something for the reward of so rare a performance, he pleasantly, and in my opinion ingeniously, order'd a certain number of Bushels of the same Grain to be deliver'd to him, that he might not want wherewith to exercise so famous an Art. 'Tis a strong evidence of a weak Judgment, when Man approve of things for their being rare and new, or yet for the difficulty; where Ver­tue [Page 527] and Usefulness are not conjoin'd to re­commend them. I come just now from play­ing with my own Family, at who could find out the most things, that had their principal force in their two Extremities; as, Sire, which is a Title given to the greatest person in the Nation, the King, and also to the Vulgar, as Merchants and Mechanicks, but never to a­ny degree of Men between. The Women of great Quality are call'd Madams, inferiour Gentlewomen, Mademoiselles, and the meanest sort of Women, Madams, as the first. The Canopy of State over Tables are not permit­ted, but in the Palaces of Princes, and Ta­verns. Democritus said, that Gods and Beasts, had a more exact and perfect sense, than Men, who are of a middle Form. The Romans wore the same Habit at Funerals and Feasts; and it is most certain, that an extream Fear, and an extream Ardour of Courage, do equally trou­ble and lax the Belly. The Nickname of Trembling, with which they Sirnam'd Sancho the XII. King of Navarre, sufficiently infor­meth, that Valour will cause a trembling in the Limbs, as well as Fear. The Friends of that King, or of some other person, who up­on the like occasion was wont to be in the same disorder, try'd to compose him, by re­presenting the danger less, he was going to engage himself in: You understand me ill, said he, for could my Flesh know the danger my Courage will presently carry it into, it would sink down to the ground. The faint­ness that surprizes us from Frigidity, or dislike [Page 528] in the exercises of Venus, are also occasio [...] by a too violent desire, and an immodor [...] heat. Extream Coldness, and extream He [...] ▪ Boil and Roast. Aristotle says, that Sows [...] Lead will melt, and run with Cold, and [...] extremity of Winter; as with a vehem [...] Heat. Desire and Satiety fill all the grada [...] ­ons above and below Pleasure with Grief▪ Brutality and Wisdom meet in the same Cen­ter of Sentiment and Resolution, in the suf­fering of Humane Accidents; the Wise con­troul and Triumph over ill, the others know it not: These last are, as a Man may say, on this side of Accidents, the other are beyond them; who after having well weigh'd and consider'd their Qualities, measur'd and judg'd them what they are, by vertue of a vigoro [...] Soul leap out of their reach. They disda [...] and trample them under foot, having a solid and well fortified Soul, against which the Darts of Fortune coming to strike they must of necessity rebound, and blunt themselves, meeting with a Body upon which they can fix no Impression; the ordinary and midd [...] condition of Men, are lodg'd betwixt the [...] two Extremities, consisting of such, who p [...] ­ceive Evils, feel them, and are not able to support them. Infancy and Decrepitude mee [...] in the imbecility of the Brain; Avarice and Profusion in the same thirst and desire of get­ting. A Man may say with some colour of truth, that there is an Abecedarian Ignorance that precedes knowledge, and a Doctoral I [...] ­norance that comes after it; an Ignorance th [...] [Page 529] knowledge does create and beget, at the same time that she dispatches and destroys the first Of mean understandings, little, inquisitive, and little instructed, are made good Christi­ans, who by Reverence and Obedience impli­citely believe, and are constant in their belief. In the moderate understandings, and the mid­dle sort of capacities, the error of Opinions is begot, and they have some colour of rea­son on their side, to impute our walking on in the old beaten path to simplicity, and bru­tishness, I mean in us who have not inform'd our selves by Study. The higher, and nobler Souls, more solid and clear sighted, make up another sort of true believers: who by a long and Religious Investigation of truth, have obtain'd a clearer, and more penetrating, light into the Scriptures, and have discover'd the Mysterious and Divine secret of our Ec­clesiastical Polity. And yet we see some, who by this middle step, are arriv'd to that su­pream degree with marvellous Fruit, and Con­firmation; as to the utmost limit of Christian intelligence, and enjoying their victory with great Spiritual Consolation, humble acknow­ledgment of the Divine Favour, exemplary Reformation of Manners, and singular Mode­sty. I do not intend with these to rank some others, who to clear themselves from all suspi­cion of their former Errours, and to satisfie us, that they are sound and firm to us, render themselves extream indiscreet and unjust, in the carrying on out Cause, and by that means bl [...]mish it with infinite Reproaches of Violence [Page 530] and oppression. The simple Peasants are good People, and so are the Philosophers: Me [...] of strong and clear Reason, and whose Souls are enrich'd with an ample instruction of profita­ble Sciences. The Mongrets who have disda [...]'d the first form of the Ignorance of Letters, [...]and have not been able to attain to the other, ( [...] ­ting betwixt two Stools, as I, and a great ma­ny more of us do,) are dangerous, foolish and importunate; these are they that trou­ble the World. And therefore it is, that I for my own part, retreat as much as I can [...] ­wards my first and natural Seation, from whence I so vainly attempted to advance. The vulgar and purely natural Poesie, has [...] it certain Proprieties and Graces, by wh [...] she may come into some comparison with [...] greatest Beauty of a Poesie perfected by [...]. As is evident in our Gascon Villanels and [...] that are brought us from Nations that have no knowledge of any manner of Science, no [...] [...] much as the use of Writing. The indiffer [...] and middle sort of Poesie betwixt these [...] is despis'd, of no Value▪ Honour or Este [...] But seeing that the Ice being once broken▪ and a Path laid open to the Fancy, I have found, as it commonly falls out, that what we make choice of for a rare and difficult Subject, proves to be nothing so, and that after [...] invention is once warm, it finds out an infin [...] number of paralle [...] Examples. I shall only [...] this one; That were these Essays of [...] considerable enough to deserve a Censure [...] might then I think fall out, that they, [...] [Page 531] not much take with common and vulga [...] Ca­pacities, nor be very acceptable to the singu­lar and excellemt sort of Men, for the first would not understand them enough, and the last too much, and so they might hover in the middle Region.

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

And such as make use of these exotick Perfumes, are with good reason to be suspected of some Natural Imperfection, which they endeavour by these Odours to conceal, according to that of Mr. Johnson, which, without offence to [Page 532] Monsieur de Montaigne, I will here presum [...] to insert, it being at least as well said, as any of those he quotes out of the Ancient Poets,

As may be judg'd by these following,

And elsewhere,

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

Of Smells, the simple and natural seem to be most pleasing. Let the Ladies look to that, for 'tis chiefly their concern. In the wildest parts of Barbary, the Scythian Women, after Bathing, were wont to Powder and Crust their Faces, and whole Bodies, with a certain Odoriferous Drug, growing in their own Ter­ritories; which being cleans'd off, when they came to have familiarity with Men, they were found Perfum'd and Sleek: 'Tis not to be be­liev'd, how strangely all sorts of Odours cleave to me, and how apt my Skin is to imbibe them. He that complains of Nature, that she has not furnish'd Mankind with a Vehicle to convey Smells to the Nose, had no reason; for they will do it themselves; especially to me: My very Mustachio's perform that Office; for if I stroke them but with my Gloves, or Handkerchief, the Smell will not out a whole Day: They will Reproach me where I have been; the close, luscious, devouring and melt­ing Kisses of Youthful Ardour would in my Wanton Age have left a Sweetness upon my Lips for several Hours after. And yet I have ever found my self very little subject to Epi­demick Diseases, that are caught, either by conversing with the Sick, or bred by the con­tagion of the Air; I have very well escap'd from those of my time, of which there has [Page 534] been several Vir [...]lent sorts in our Cities and Armies. We Read of Socrates, that though he never departed from Athens, during the frequent Plagues that infested that City, he only was never Infected. Physicians might (I believe,) if they would extract greater Utility from Odours, than they do; for I have often observ'd, that they cause an alteration in me, and work upon my Spirits according to their several Vertues; which makes me approve of what is said, namely, that the use of Incense and Perfumes in Churches, so Ancient, and so universally receiv'd in all Nations, and Religi­ons, was intended to chear us, and to [...]ouse and purifie the Senses, the better to fit us for Contemplation. I could have been glad, the better to judge of it, to have tasted the Cu [...] ­nary Art of those Cooks, who had so rare [...] way of Seasoning Exotick Odours with the relish of Meats; As it was particularly ob­serv'd in the Service of the King of Tu [...]is, who in our Days Landed at Naples, to have an interview with Charles the Emperour, where his Dishes were farc'd with Odo [...]iferous Drugs, to that Degree of Expence, that the Cookery of one Peacock, and two Pheasants, amount­ed to a Hundred Duckets, to dress them af­ter their Fashion. And when the Carve [...] came to break them up, not only the Dining room, but all the Appartments of his Palace, and the adjoining Streets were fill'd with an Aromatick Vapour, which did not presently vanish. My chiefest care in chusing my Lodgings, is always to avoid a thick and [Page 535] stinking▪ Air and those Beautiful Cities of Venice and Paris, have very much lessen'd the Kindness I had for them, the one by the of­fensive Smell of her Marshes, and the other of her Dirt.

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

I know not, if, or no, I am deceiv'd; but since by a particular favour of the Divine Bounty, a certain Form of Prayer has been [Page 536] prescrib'd and dictated to us, Word by Word, from the Mouth of God himself▪ I have ever been of Opinion, that we ought to have it in more frequent use, than we yet have, and if I were worthy to advise, at the sitting down to, and rising from our Tables, at our rising, and going to Bed, and in every particular Action, wherein Prayer is requir'd, I would that Christians always make use of the Lord's Prayer, if not alone, yet at least always. The Church may lengthen, or alter Prayers, ac­cording to the necessity of our Instruction, for I know very well, that it is always the same in substance, and the same thing: But yet such a preference ought to be given to that Prayer, that the People should have it con­tinually in their Mouths; for it is most cer­tain, that all necessary Petitions are compre­hended in it, and that it is infinitely p [...]ope [...] for all Occasions. 'Tis the only Prayer I use in all Places and Conditions, and what I still repeat instead of changing; whence it also happens, that I have no other by Heart, but that only. It just now comes into my Mind, from whence we should derive that Errour of having recourse to God in all our Designs and Enterprises, to call him to our Assistance in all sorts of Affairs, and in all Places where our Weakness stands in need of support without considering whether the occasion be just, or otherwise, and to Invoke his Name and Power, in what Estate soever we are, or Action we are engag'd in, how Vicious soever: He is indeed our sole and only Protector, and can [Page 537] do all things for us: But though he is pleas'd to Honour us with his Paternal Care, he is not withstanding, as Just, as he is Good and Mighty, and does ofter exercise his Justice, than his Power, and favours us according to that, and not according to our Petitions. Plato in his Laws, makes Three sorts of Belief In­jurious to the Gods; That there is none; That they concern not themselves about Hu­mane Affairs; and that they never reject or deny any thing to our Vows, Offerings and Sacrifices. The first of these Errours (accord­ing to his Opinion,) did never continue rooted in any Man, from his Infancy to his Old Age, the other two he confesses, Men might be Obstinate in. God's Justice and his Power are inseparable, and therefore in vain we Invoke his Power in an Unjust Cause: We are to have our Souls pure and clean, at that Moment at least, wherein we Pray to him, and purified from all Vicious Passions, other­wise we ourselves present him the Rods where­with to Chastise us. Instead of repairing any thing we have done amiss, we double the Wickedness and the Offence, whilst we offer to him, to whom we are to sue for Pardon, an Affection full of Irreverence and Hatred. Which makes me not very apt to applaud those whom I observe to be so frequent on their Knees, if the Actions nearest of Kin to Prayer, do not give me some Evidence of Reformation.

And the Practice of a Man, that mixes Devo­tion with an Execrable Life, seems in some sort more to be Condemn'd, than that of a Man conformable to his own Propension, and Dis­solute throughout: And for that Reason, [...] is, that our Church denies Admittance to, and Communion with Men. Obstinate and Incor­rigible in any kind of Impiety. We Pray only by custom, and for fashions sake, or rather, we read and pronounce our Prayers aloud which is no better than an Hypocritical shew of Devotion: And I am scandaliz'd, to see a Man Cross himself Thrice at the Benedi [...] and as often, at anothers saying Grace, (and the more, because it is a Sign I have in great Veneration, and constant use upon solemn oc­casions,) and to Dedicate all the other Hour [...] of the Day to Acts of Malice, Avarice and Injustice. One Hour to God, the rest to th [...] Devil, as if by Commutation and Consent▪ 'Tis a wonder to me, Actions so various in themselves, succeed one another with such [...] Uniformity of Method, as not to interfere; no [...] suffer any alteration, even upon the very Con­fines and Passes from the one to the other what a Prodigious Conscience must that be that can be at Quiet within it self, whilst it [Page 539] harbours under the same Roof, with so agree­ing and so calm a Society, both the Crime and the Judge? A Man whose whole Me­ditation is continually working upon nothing but Impurity, which he knows to be so Odi­ous to Almighty God, what can he say, when he comes to speak to him? He Reforms, but immediately falls into a Relapse. If the Ob­ject of the Divine Justice, and the Presence of his Maker, did as he pretends, Strike and Chastise his Soul, how short soever the Re­pentance might be, the very fear of offending that Infinite Majesty, would so often present it self to his imagination, that he would soon see himself Master of those Vices, that are most Natural and Habitual in him. But what shall we say of those, who settle their whole course of Life, upon the Profit and Emolument of Sins, which they know to be Mortal? How many Trades of Vocations have we admit­ted and countenanc'd amongst us, whose very Essence is Vicious? And he that confessing himself to me, voluntarily told me, that he had all his Life time profess [...]d and practis'd a Religion, in his Opinion Damnable, and con­trary to that he had in his Heart, only to pre­serve his Credit, and the Honour of his Em­ployments, how could his Courage suffer so Infamous a Confession? What can Men say to the Divine Justice upon this subject? Their Repentance consisting in a visible and manifest Reformation and Restitution, they lose the colour of alledging it both to God and Man. Are they so Impudent, as to sue [Page 540] for Remission, without Satisfaction, and with­out Penitency, or Remorse? I look upon these as in the same condition with the first: But the Obstinacy is not there so easie to be overcome. This contrariety and volubility of Opinion, so sudden and violent as they pre­tend, is a kind of Miracle to me. They pre­sent us with the state of an indigestible An­xiety, and doubtfulness of Mind. It seem'd to me a Fantastick and Ridiculous Imagination in those, who these late Years past, were wont to Reproach every Man they knew to be of any extraordinary Parts, and made profession of the Roman Catholick Religion, that it was but outwardly, maintaining moreover, to do him Honour for sooth, that whatever he might pre­tend to the contrary, he could not but in his Heart, be of their Reform'd Opinion. An untoward Disease, that a Man should be so Rivetted to his own Belief, as to fansie, that others cannot believe otherwise, than as he does: and yet worse in this, that they should entertain so Vicious an Opinion of such parts as to think any Man so Qualified, should preferr any present advantage of Fortune, before the promises of Eternal Life, and the means of Eter­nal Damnation. They may believe me: Could any thing have tempted my Youth, the Ambiti­on of the danger and difficulties in the late Com­motions, had not been the least Motives.

It is not without very good Reason, in my Opinion, that the Church Interdicts the Pro­miscuous, Indiscreet and Irreverent use of the Holy and Divine Psalms, with which the Holy [Page 541] Ghost Inspir'd King David. We ought not to mix God in our Actions, but with the highest Reverence and Caution. That Poesie is too Sacred, to be put to no other use, than to exercise the Lungs, and to delight our Ears. It ought to come from the Soul, and not from the Tongue. It is not fit that a Prentice in his Shop, amongst his vain and frivolous Thoughts, should be permitted to pass away his time, and divert himself, with such Sacred things. Neither is it decent to see the Holy Bible, the Rule of our Worship and Belief, tumbled up and down a Hall, or a Kitchin. They were formerly Mysteries, but are now become Sports and Recreations. 'Tis a Book too Serious, and too Venerable, to be cursorily or slightly turn'd over. The Reading of the Scripture ought to be a tempe­ra [...]e and premediatt [...]d Act, and to which Men should always add this Devout Preface, Sursum Corda, preparing even the Body to so humble and compos'd a Gesture and Countenance, as shall evidence their Veneration and Attention. Neither is it a Book for every one to fist, but the Study of Select Men set apart for that purpose, and whom Almighty God has been pleas'd to call to that Office, and Sacred Function: The Wicked and Ignorant, Blemish and Deprave it. 'Tis not a Story to tell, but a History to fear and adore. Are not they then pleasant Men, who think they have render'd this fit for the Peoples handling, by Translating it into the Vulgar Tongue? Does the Understanding of all therein con­tain'd, [Page 542] only stick at Words? Shall I vent [...]re to say further, that by coming so near to un­derstand a little, they are much wider of the whole scope than before. A total Ignorance and wholly depending upon the Exposition of other Qualified Persons, was more know­ing and salutiferous, than this vain and verbal knowledge, which has only prov'd the Nurse of Temerity and Presumption. And I do fur­ther believe, that the liberty every one has taken, to disperse the Sacred Writ into so many Idioms, carries with it a great deal more of Danger, than Utility. The [...] Mahometans, and almost all others, have E­spous'd and Reverence the Language wherein their Laws and Mysteries were first conceiv'd, and have expresly, and not without colour of reason, forbid the aversion or alteration of them, into any other. Are we assur'd, that in Biscay, and in Brittany, there are enow competent Judges of this affair, to Establish this Transla­tion into their own Language? Why, the Universal Church has not a more difficult and solemn Judgment to make. One of our Greek Historians does justly accuse the Age he Liv'd in, for that the Secrets of Christian Religion were disperst into the Hands of every Mecha­nick, to Expound and Argue upon, according to his own Fancy; and that we ought to be much asham'd, we who by God's especial fa­vour, enjoy the purest Mysteries of Piety, to suffer them to be: Prophan'd by the ignorant Rabble▪ considering, that the Gentiles ex­pressly forbad Socrates, Pluto, and the other [Page 543] Sages, to enquire into, or so much as to men­tion the things committed only to the Priests of Delphos; saying moreover, that the Factions of Princes, upon Theological accounts, are not Arm'd with Zeal, but Fury; that Zeal springs from the Divine Wisdom and Justice, and governs it self with Prudence and Modera­tion; but degenerates into Hatred and Envy, producing Tares and Nettles, instead of Corn and Wine, when conducted by Humane Passi­ons. And it was truly said of another, who advising the Emperour Theodosius, and told him, that Disputes did not so much Rock the Schisms of the Church asleep, as it Rous'd and Animated Heresies. That therefore all Contentions, and Logical Disputations, were to be avoided, and Men absolutely to Acquiess in the Prescriptions and Formula's of Faith, Establish'd by the Ancients. And the Empe­rour Andronicus, having over-heard some great Men at high words in his Palace with Lapodius, about a Point of ours of great Importance, gave them so severe a Check, as to threaten to cause them to be thrown into the River, if they did not desist. The very Women and Children now adays, take upon them to docu­ment the Oldest and most Experienc'd Men about the Ecclesiastical Laws: Whereas the first of those of Plato, forbids them to enquire so much as into the Civil Laws; which were to stand instead of Divine Ordinances▪ And allowing the Old M [...]n to conferr amongst them­selves, or with the Magistrate, about those things, he adds, provided it be not in the pre­sence [Page 544] of Young or Profane Persons. A [...] has left in Writing, that at the other end [...] the World, there is an Isle, by the Anc [...]en [...] call'd Dioscorides, abundantly Fertile in [...] sorts of Trees and Fruits, and of an exceed­ing Healthful Air: The Inhabitants of whi [...] are Christians, having Churches and Alta [...] ▪ only adorn'd with Crucifixes, without any o­ther Images, great Observers of Fasts and Feasts: Exact payers of their Tythes to the Priests, and so Chast, that none of them [...] permitted to have to do with more than [...] Woman in his Life. As to the nest, so con­tent with their condition, that environed wi [...] the Sea, they know nothing of Navigatio [...] and so simple, that they understand not [...] Syllable of the Religion they profess, [...] wherein they are so Devout. A thing in­credible to such as do not know, that the [...]gans, who are so Zealous Idolaters, know no­thing more of their Gods, than their [...] Names and their Statues. The Ancient be­ginning of Menalippus, a Tragedy of Euriped [...] ▪ ran thus,

I have also known in my time some Men's Writings found fault with, for being purely▪ Humane and Philosophical, without any mix­ture of Divinity; and yet whoever should on the contrary say, that Divine Doctrine, [...] Queen and Regent of the rest, better, an [...] [Page 545] with greater Dec [...]ncy, Keeps her State apart: What, she ought to be Soveraign, throughout, not Subsidiary and Suffragan: And that per­adventure, Grammatical, Rhetorical and Lo­gical Examples, may elsewhere be more suita­bly chosen, as also the Arguments for the Stage, and Publick Entertainments, than from so Sacred a matter: That Divine Reasons, are consider'd with greater Veneration and At­tention, when by themselves, and in their own proper Stile, than when mixt with, and adapted to Humane Discourses. That it is a fault much more often observ'd, that the Di­vines Write too H [...]manely, than that the Humanists Write not Theologically, enough: Philosophy, says St. Chrysostome, has long been Banishn'd the Holy Schools, as an Hand-maid, altogether useless, and thought unworthy to [...], so much as in passing by the Door, into the Sacrifice of the Divine Doctrine. And that the Humane way of speaking is of a much lower form, and ought not to serve her self with the Dignity and Majesty of Divine Eloquence. I say, whoever on the contrary should Object all this, would not be without reason on his [...]ide. Let who will Verbis Indisciplinatis, talk of Fortune, Destiny, Accident, Good and E­vil Hap, and other such like Phrases, accord­ing to his own-Humour; I for my part, pro­pose Fancies meerly Humane, and meerly my own, and that simply, as Humane Fancies, and [...] consider'd, not as determin'd by any Arrest from Heaven; or incapable of [...], or Dispute. Matter of Opinion, not [Page 546] matter of Faith. Things which I discourse [...] according to my own Capacity, not what I be­lieve according to God; which also I do after a Laical, not Clerical, and yet always after a very Religious manner. And it were as Ra­tional to affirm, that an Edict, enjoining [...] People, but such as are Publick Professors of Divinity, to be very reserv'd in Writing of Religion, would carry with it a very good colour of Utility and Justice▪ and me, amongst the rest, to hold my prating. I have been told, that even those who are not of [...] Church, do nevertheless amongst themselv [...], expresly forbid the Name of God to be [...] in common Discourse: Not so much as by way of Interjection, Exclamation▪ Assertion of a Truth, or Comparison, and I think the [...] in the right. And upon what occasion soever we call upon God, to accompany and assist us it ought always to be done with the greatest Reverence and Devotion. There is, as I re­member, a passage in Xenophon, where he tells us, that we ought so much the more seldom to call upon God, by how much it is hard to compose our Souls to such a degree of Calm­ness, Penitency and Devotion, as it ought to be in at such time, otherwise our Prayers are not only vain and fruitless, but Vicious in themselves, Forgive us (we say) our Trespasses, as we forgive them that Trespass against us. What do we mean by this Petition but th [...] we present him a Soul free from all Rancour and Revenge? And yet we make nothing of Invoking God's Assistance in our Vices, and inviting him into our unjust Designs.

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

Marguarette Queen of Navarre, tells of a Young Prince, (whom though she does not name, is easily enough by his great Quality to be known,) who going upon an Amorous Assignation to Lie with an Advocates Wife of Paris, his way thither being through a Church, he never pass'd that Holy place, going to or re­turning [Page 548] from, this Godly Exercise, but he al­ways Kneel'd down to Pray; wherein he would emplore the Divine Favour, his Soul be­ing full of such Vertuous Mediations. I leave others to judge, which nevertheless she instan­ces, for a Testimony of singular Devotion. But it is by this proof only, that a Man may conclude, no Man not very fit to treat of Theological Affairs. A true Prayer, and Re­ligious reconciling of our selves to Almighty God, cannot enter into an impure Soul, and at the very instant subjected to the very Do­minion of Satan. He who calls God to his Assistance, whilst in a Habit of Vice, does, as if a Cut-purse should call a Magistrate to help him, or like those who introduce the Name of God to the Attestation of a Lye.

And this is the reason why the Pythagor [...]s would have them always Publick, to be heard [Page 549] by every one, to the end they might not pre­fer indecent or unjust Petitions, as he did, who having

The God did severely punish the Wicked Prayers of Oedipus, in granting them: He had Pray'd, that his Children might amongst themselves Determine the Succession to his Throne by Arms; and was so miserable, as to see himself taken at his word. We are not to Pray, that all things may go as we would have them, but as most conducing to the good of the World; and we are not in our Prayers to Obey our Wills, but Prudence. We seem, in truth, to make use of our Prayers, as of a kind of Gibberish, and as those do who employ Holy Words about Sorceries and Ma­gical Operations: And as if we made account, the benefit we are to reap from them, depend­ed upon the contexture, sound and gingle of Words, or upon the composing of the Coun­tenance. [Page 550] For having the Soul contaminated with Concupiscence, not touch'd with Repen­tance, or comforted by any late Reconciliation with Almighty God, we go to present him such Words as the Memory suggests to the Tongue, and hope from thence to obtain the Remission of our Sins. There is nothing so easie, so sweet, and so favourable, as the Di­vine Law: She calls and invites us to her, Guilty and Abominable as we are: Extends her Arms, and receives us into her Bosom▪ as foul and polluted as we at present are, and are for the future to be. But then in re­turn, we are to look upon her with a re­spective, and a graceful Eye, we are to re­ceive this Pardon with all imaginable gratitude and submission, and, for that instant at least, wherein we address our selves to her, to have the Soul sensible of the ills we have com­mitted, and at defiance with those Passions that seduc'd her to offend, for neither the Gods, nor Good Men (says Plato) will ac­cept the present of a Wicked Man.

I Cannot allow of the Proportion we settle up­on our selves, and the space we allot to the duration of Life. I see that the Wise contract it very much, in comparison of the common Opinion. What (said the Younger Clato, to those who would stay his Hand from Killing himself,) am I now of an Age to be Reproach'd, that I go out of the World too soon? And yet he was but Eight and Forty Years Old. He thought that to be a mature and competent Age, considering how few arrive unto it, and such, as soothing their Thoughts with I know not what course of Nature, promise to them­selves some Years beyond it, could they be privileg'd from the infinite number of Ac­cidents to which we are by natural sub­jection expos'd, might have some Reason so to do. What an Idle Conceit it is, to ex­pect to Die of a decay of Strength, which is the last of effects of the extreamest Age, and to propose to our selves no shorter lease of Life than that, considering it is a kind of Death of all others the most rare, and very hardly seen? We call that only a Natural Death, as if it were contrary to Nature, [...]o see a Man break his Neck with a Fall, be Drown'd in Shipwrack at Sea; or snatch'd away with a Pleurisie, or the Plague, and, as if our ordinary condition [Page 552] of Life did not expose us to these Incon­veniences. Let us no more flatter our selves with these fine sounding Words: We ought rather, at a venture, to call that Na­tural, which is Common and Universal To Die of Old Age, is a Death rare, ex­traordinary and singular, and therefore so much less Natural, than the others: 'Tis the last and extreamest sort of Dying: And the more remote, the less to be hop'd for. It is indeed the Boundary of Life, be­yond which we are not to pass: Which the Law of Nature has pitch'd for a [...], not to be exceeded: But it is withal a Privilege she is rarely seen to give us to last till then. 'Tis a Lease she only Signs by particular favour, and it may be, to one only, in the space of two or three Ages▪ and then with a Pass to boot, to carry him through all the Traverses and Difficulties she has strew'd in the way of this long Carreer. And therefore my Opinion is, that when once Forty Years Old, we should con­sider it as an Age to which very few arrive: For seeing that Men do not usu­ally proceed so far, it is a fign that we are pretty well advanc'd, and since we have ex­ceeded the ordinary Bounds, which make the just measure of Life, we ought not to expect to go much further; having escap'd so many Precipices of Death, whereinto we have seen so many other Men to fall, we should acknowledge, that so extraordinary a Fortune, as that which has hitherto re­scu'd [Page 553] us from those imminent Perils, and [...] us alive beyond the ordinary term of Living, is not likely to continue long. 'Tis a fault in our very Laws, to maintain this Errour, That a Man is not capable of managing his own Estate, till he be Five and Twenty Years Old, whereas he will have much ado to manage his Life so long. Augustus cut off Five Years from the An­cient Roman Standard, and declar'd, that Thirty Years Old was sufficient for a Judge. S [...]vius Tullius superseded the Knights of above Seven and Forty Years of Age, from the Fatigues of War: Augustus dismiss'd them at Forty Five: Though methinks it seems a little unlikely, that Men should be sent to the Fire-side, till Five and Fifty, or Sixty Years of Age. I should be of Opini­on, that both our Vacancy and Employment, should be as far as possible extended for the Publick Good: But I find the fault on the other side, that they do not em­ploy us Early enough. This Emperour was arbiter of the whole World at Nine­teen, and yet would have a Man to be Thirty, before he could be fit to bear Office in the Common-wealth. For my part I be­lieve, our Souls are Adult at Twenty, such as they are ever like to be, and as capable then as ever. A Soul that has not by that time given evident earnest of its Force and Vertue, will never after come to proof. Na­tural Parts and Excellencies produce, that they have of Vigorous and Fine, within that Term, or never.

[Page 554] Of all the great Humane Actions I ever Heard, or Read of, of what sort soever. I have Observ'd, both in former Ages, and [...] own, more perform'd before the Age of Thirty, than after: And oft times in the very Lives of the same Men. May I not confidently instance in those of Hannibal, and his great concurrent Scipio? The bet­ter half of their Lives, they Liv'd upon the Glory they had acquir'd in their Youth▪ great Men after, 'tis true, in comparison of others; but by no means, in comparison of themselves. As to my own particular, I do certainly believe, that since that Age, both my Understanding, and my Constitu­tion, have rather decay'd, than improv'd, and retir'd, rather than advanc'd. Tis possible, that with those who make the best use of their Time, Knowledge and Ex­perience may grow up and encrease with their Years; but the Vivacity, Quickness and Steadiness, and other pieces of us, of much greater Importance, and much more Essentially our own, Languish and De­cay,

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