{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_3587/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_3587","id":"gutenberg_3587","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3587","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: French Literature","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","French essays -- Translations into English"],"text":"Produced by David Widger\n\n\n\n\n\nESSAYS OF MICHEL DE MONTAIGNE\n\nTranslated by Charles Cotton\n\nEdited by William Carew Hazilitt\n\n1877\n\n\n\nCONTENTS OF VOLUME 7.\n\nXXXIX.    A consideration upon Cicero.\nXL.       That the relish of good and evil depends in a great measure\n          upon opinion.\nXLI.      Not to communicate a man's honour.\nXLII.     Of the inequality amongst us.\nXLIII.    Of sumptuary laws.\nXLIV.     Of sleep.\nXLV.      Of the battle of Dreux.\nXLVI.     Of names.\nXLVII.    Of the uncertainty of our judgment.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIX\n\nA CONSIDERATION UPON CICERO\n\nOne word more by way of comparison betwixt these two.  There are to be\ngathered out of the writings of Cicero and the younger Pliny (but little,\nin my opinion, resembling his uncle in his humours) infinite testimonies\nof a beyond measure ambitious nature; and amongst others, this for one,\nthat they both, in the sight of all the world, solicit the historians of\ntheir time not to forget them in their memoirs; and fortune, as if in\nspite, has made the vanity of those requests live upon record down to\nthis age of ours, while she has long since consigned the histories\nthemselves to oblivion.  But this exceeds all meanness of spirit in\npersons of such a quality as they were, to think to derive any great\nrenown from babbling and prating; even to the publishing of their private\nletters to their friends, and so withal, that though some of them were\nnever sent, the opportunity being lost, they nevertheless presented them\nto the light, with this worthy excuse that they were unwilling to lose\ntheir labours and lucubrations.  Was it not very well becoming two\nconsuls of Rome, sovereign magistrates of the republic that commanded\nthe world, to spend their leisure in contriving quaint and elegant\nmissives, thence to gain the reputation of being versed in their own\nmother-tongues?  What could a pitiful schoolmaster have done worse, whose\ntrade it was thereby to get his living?  If the acts of Xenophon and\nCaesar had not far transcended their eloquence, I scarce believe they\nwould ever have taken the pains to have written them; they made it their\nbusiness to recommend not their speaking, but their doing.  And could the\nperfection of eloquence have added a lustre suitable to a great\npersonage, certainly Scipio and Laelius had never resigned the honour of\ntheir comedies, with all the luxuriances and elegances of the Latin\ntongue, to an African slave; for that the work was theirs, its beauty and\nexcellence sufficiently declare; Terence himself confesses as much, and I\nshould take it ill from any one that would dispossess me of that belief.\n\n'Tis a kind of mockery and offence to extol a man for qualities\nmisbecoming his condition, though otherwise commendable in themselves,\nbut such as ought not, however, to be his chief talent; as if a man\nshould commend a king for being a good painter, a good architect, a good\nmarksman, or a good runner at the ring: commendations that add no honour,\nunless mentioned altogether and in the train of those that are properly\napplicable to him, namely, justice and the science of governing and\nconducting his people both in peace and war.  At this rate, agriculture\nwas an honour to Cyrus, and eloquence and the knowledge of letters to\nCharlemagne.  I have in my time known some, who by writing acquired both\ntheir titles and fortune, disown their apprenticeship, corrupt their\nstyle, and affect ignorance in so vulgar a quality (which also our nation\nholds to be rarely seen in very learned hands), and to seek a reputation\nby better qualities.  Demosthenes' companions in the embassy to Philip,\nextolling that prince as handsome, eloquent, and a stout drinker,\nDemosthenes said that those were commendations more proper for a woman,\nan advocate, or a sponge, than for a king':\n\n                    \"Imperet bellante prior, jacentem\n                    Lenis in hostem.\"\n\n     [\"In the fight, overthrow your enemy, but be merciful to him when\n     fallen.--\"Horace, Carm. Saec., v. 51.]\n\n'Tis not his profession to know either how to hunt or to dance well;\n\n               \"Orabunt causas alii, coelique meatus\n               Describent radio, et fulgentia sidera dicent;\n               Hic regere imperio populos sciat.\"\n\n     [\"Let others plead at the bar, or describe the spheres, and point\n     out the glittering stars; let this man learn to rule the nations.\"\n     --AEneid, vi. 849.]\n\nPlutarch says, moreover, that to appear so excellent in these less\nnecessary qualities is to produce witness against a man's self, that he\nhas spent his time and applied his study ill, which ought to have been\nemployed in the acquisition of more necessary and more useful things.\nSo that Philip, king of Macedon, having heard that great Alexander his\nson sing once at a feast to the wonder of the best musicians there: \"Art\nthou not ashamed,\" said he to him, \"to sing so well?\" And to the same\nPhilip a musician, with whom he was disputing about some things\nconcerning his art: \"Heaven forbid, sir,\" said he, \"that so great a\nmisfortune should ever befall you as to understand these things better\nthan I.\"  A king should be able to answer as Iphicrates did the orator,\nwho pressed upon him in his invective after this manner: \"And what art\nthou that thou bravest it at this rate?  art thou a man at arms, art thou\nan archer, art thou a pikeman?\"--\"I am none of all this; but I know how\nto command all these.\"  And Antisthenes took it for an argument of little\nvalue in Ismenias that he was commended for playing excellently well upon\na flute.\n\nI know very well, that when I hear any one dwell upon the language of my\nessays, I had rather a great deal he would say nothing: 'tis not so much\nto elevate the style as to depress the sense, and so much the more\noffensively as they do it obliquely; and yet I am much deceived if many\nother writers deliver more worth noting as to the matter, and, how well\nor ill soever, if any other writer has sown things much more materials or\nat all events more downright, upon his paper than myself.  To bring the\nmore in, I only muster up the heads; should I annex the sequel, I should\ntrebly multiply the volume.  And how many stories have I scattered up and\ndown in this book that I only touch upon, which, should any one more\ncuriously search into, they would find matter enough to produce infinite\nessays.  Neither those stories nor my quotations always serve simply for\nexample, authority, or ornament; I do not only regard them for the use I\nmake of them: they carry sometimes besides what I apply them to, the seed\nof a more rich and a bolder matter, and sometimes, collaterally, a more\ndelicate sound both to myself who will say no more about it in this\nplace, and to others who shall be of my humour.\n\nBut returning to the speaking virtue: I find no great choice betwixt not\nknowing to speak anything but ill, and not knowing to speak anything but\nwell.\n\n               \"Non est ornamentum virile concimitas.\"\n\n          [\"A carefully arranged dress is no manly ornament.\"\n          --Seneca, Ep., 115.]\n\nThe sages tell us that, as to what concerns knowledge, 'tis nothing but\nphilosophy; and as to what concerns effects, nothing but virtue, which is\ngenerally proper to all degrees and to all orders.\n\nThere is something like this in these two other philosophers, for they\nalso promise eternity to the letters they write to their friends; but\n'tis after another manner, and by accommodating themselves, for a good\nend, to the vanity of another; for they write to them that if the concern\nof making themselves known to future ages, and the thirst of glory, do\nyet detain them in the management of public affairs, and make them fear\nthe solitude and retirement to which they would persuade them, let them\nnever trouble themselves more about it, forasmuch as they shall have\ncredit enough with posterity to ensure them that were there nothing else\nbut the letters thus written to them, those letters will render their\nnames as known and famous as their own public actions could do.  And\nbesides this difference, these are not idle and empty letters, that\ncontain nothing but a fine jingle of well-chosen words and delicate\ncouched phrases, but rather replete and abounding with grand discourses\nof reason, by which a man may render himself not more eloquent, but more\nwise, and that instruct us not to speak, but to do well.  Away with that\neloquence that enchants us with itself, and not with actual things!\nunless you will allow that of Cicero to be of so supreme a perfection as\nto form a complete body of itself.\n\nI shall farther add one story we read of him to this purpose, wherein his\nnature will much more manifestly be laid open to us.  He was to make an\noration in public, and found himself a little straitened for time to make\nhimself ready at his ease; when Eros, one of his slaves, brought him word\nthat the audience was deferred till the next day, at which he was so\nravished with joy that he enfranchised him for the good news.\n\nUpon this subject of letters, I will add this more to what has been\nalready said, that it is a kind of writing wherein my friends think I can\ndo something; and I am willing to confess I should rather have chosen to\npublish my whimsies that way than any other, had I had to whom to write;\nbut I wanted such a settled intercourse, as I once had, to attract me to\nit, to raise my fancy, and to support me.  For to traffic with the wind,\nas some others have done, and to forge vain names to direct my letters\nto, in a serious subject, I could never do it but in a dream, being a\nsworn enemy to all manner of falsification.  I should have been more\ndiligent and more confident had I had a judicious and indulgent friend\nwhom to address, than thus to expose myself to the various judgments of a\nwhole people, and I am deceived if I had not succeeded better.  I have\nnaturally a humorous and familiar style; but it is a style of my own, not\nproper for public business, but, like the language I speak, too compact,\nirregular, abrupt, and singular; and as to letters of ceremony that have\nno other substance than a fine contexture of courteous words, I am wholly\nto seek.  I have neither faculty nor relish for those tedious tenders of\nservice and affection; I believe little in them from others, and I should\nnot forgive myself should I say to others more than I myself believe.\n'Tis, doubtless, very remote from the present practice; for there never\nwas so abject and servile prostitution of offers: life, soul, devotion,\nadoration, vassal, slave, and I cannot tell what, as now; all which\nexpressions are so commonly and so indifferently posted to and fro by\nevery one and to every one, that when they would profess a greater and\nmore respectful inclination upon more just occasions, they have not\nwherewithal to express it.  I mortally hate all air of flattery, which is\nthe cause that I naturally fall into a shy, rough, and crude way of\nspeaking, that, to such as do not know me, may seem a little to relish of\ndisdain.  I honour those most to whom I show the least honour, and where\nmy soul moves with the greatest cheerfulness, I easily forget the\nceremonies of look and gesture, and offer myself faintly and bluntly to\nthem to whom I am the most devoted: methinks they should read it in my\nheart, and that the expression of my words does but injure the love I\nhave conceived within.  To welcome, take leave, give thanks, accost,\noffer my service, and such verbal formalities as the ceremonious laws of\nour modern civility enjoin, I know no man so stupidly unprovided of\nlanguage as myself; and I have never been employed in writing letters of\nfavour and recommendation, that he, in whose behalf it was written, did\nnot think my mediation cold and imperfect.  The Italians are great\nprinters of letters; I do believe I have at least an hundred several\nvolumes of them; of all which those of Annibale Caro seem to me to be the\nbest.  If all the paper I have scribbled to the ladies at the time when\nmy hand was really prompted by my passion, were now in being, there\nmight, peradventure, be found a page worthy to be communicated to our\nyoung inamoratos, that are besotted with that fury.  I always write my\nletters post-haste--so precipitately, that though I write intolerably\nill, I rather choose to do it myself, than to employ another; for I can\nfind none able to follow me: and I never transcribe any.  I have\naccustomed the great ones who know me to endure my blots and dashes, and\nupon paper without fold or margin.  Those that cost me the most pains,\nare the worst; when I once begin to draw it in by head and shoulders,\n'tis a sign that I am not there.  I fall too without premeditation or\ndesign; the first word begets the second, and so to the end of the\nchapter.  The letters of this age consist more in fine edges and prefaces\nthan in matter.  Just as I had rather write two letters than close and\nfold up one, and always assign that employment to some other, so, when\nthe real business of my letter is dispatched, I would with all my heart\ntransfer it to another hand to add those long harangues, offers, and\nprayers, that we place at the bottom, and should be glad that some new\ncustom would discharge us of that trouble; as also of superscribing them\nwith a long legend of qualities and titles, which for fear of mistakes,\nI have often not written at all, and especially to men of the long robe\nand finance; there are so many new offices, such a dispensation and\nordering of titles of honour, that 'tis hard to set them forth aright\nyet, being so dearly bought, they are neither to be altered nor forgotten\nwithout offence.  I find it equally in bad taste to encumber the fronts\nand inscriptions of the books we commit to the press with such.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XL\n\nTHAT THE RELISH FOR GOOD AND EVIL DEPENDS IN GREAT MEASURE UPON THE\nOPINION WE HAVE OF THEM\n\nMen (says an ancient Greek sentence)--[Manual of Epictetus, c. 10.]--\nare tormented with the opinions they have of things and not by the things\nthemselves.  It were a great victory obtained for the relief of our\nmiserable human condition, could this proposition be established for\ncertain and true throughout.  For if evils have no admission into us but\nby the judgment we ourselves make of them, it should seem that it is,\nthen, in our own power to despise them or to turn them to good.  If\nthings surrender themselves to our mercy, why do we not convert and\naccommodate them to our advantage?  If what we call evil and torment is\nneither evil nor torment of itself, but only that our fancy gives it that\nquality, it is in us to change it, and it being in our own choice, if\nthere be no constraint upon us, we must certainly be very strange fools\nto take arms for that side which is most offensive to us, and to give\nsickness, want, and contempt a bitter and nauseous taste, if it be in our\npower to give them a pleasant relish, and if, fortune simply providing\nthe matter, 'tis for us to give it the form.  Now, that what we call evil\nis not so of itself, or at least to that degree that we make it, and that\nit depends upon us to give it another taste and complexion (for all comes\nto one), let us examine how that can be maintained.\n\nIf the original being of those things we fear had power to lodge itself\nin us by its own authority, it would then lodge itself alike, and in like\nmanner, in all; for men are all of the same kind, and saving in greater\nand less proportions, are all provided with the same utensils and\ninstruments to conceive and to judge; but the diversity of opinions we\nhave of those things clearly evidences that they only enter us by\ncomposition; one person, peradventure, admits them in their true being,\nbut a thousand others give them a new and contrary being in them.  We\nhold death, poverty, and pain for our principal enemies; now, this death,\nwhich some repute the most dreadful of all dreadful things, who does not\nknow that others call it the only secure harbour from the storms and\ntempests of life, the sovereign good of nature, the sole support of\nliberty, and the common and prompt remedy of all evils?  And as the one\nexpect it with fear and trembling, the others support it with greater\nease than life.  That one complains of its facility:\n\n          \"Mors! utinam pavidos vitae subducere nolles.\n          Sed virtus to sola daret!\"\n\n     [\"O death! wouldst that thou might spare the coward, but that\n     valour alone should pay thee tribute.\"--Lucan, iv. 580.]\n\nNow, let us leave these boastful courages.  Theodorus answered\nLysimachus, who threatened to kill him, \"Thou wilt do a brave feat,\" said\nhe, \"to attain the force of a cantharides.\"  The majority of philosophers\nare observed to have either purposely anticipated, or hastened and\nassisted their own death.  How many ordinary people do we see led to\nexecution, and that not to a simple death, but mixed with shame and\nsometimes with grievous torments, appear with such assurance, whether\nthrough firm courage or natural simplicity, that a man can discover no\nchange from their ordinary condition; settling their domestic affairs,\ncommending themselves to their friends, singing, preaching, and\naddressing the people, nay, sometimes sallying into jests, and drinking\nto their companions, quite as well as Socrates?\n\nOne that they were leading to the gallows told them they must not take\nhim through such a street, lest a merchant who lived there should arrest\nhim by the way for an old debt.  Another told the hangman he must not\ntouch his neck for fear of making him laugh, he was so ticklish.  Another\nanswered his confessor, who promised him he should that day sup with our\nLord, \"Do you go then,\" said he, \"in my room [place]; for I for my part\nkeep fast to-day.\"  Another having called for drink, and the hangman\nhaving drunk first, said he would not drink after him, for fear of\ncatching some evil disease.  Everybody has heard the tale of the Picard,\nto whom, being upon the ladder, they presented a common wench, telling\nhim (as our law does some times permit) that if he would marry her they\nwould save his life; he, having a while considered her and perceiving\nthat she halted: \"Come, tie up, tie up,\" said he, \"she limps.\"  And they\ntell another story of the same kind of a fellow in Denmark, who being\ncondemned to lose his head, and the like condition being proposed to him\nupon the scaffold, refused it, by reason the girl they offered him had\nhollow cheeks and too sharp a nose.  A servant at Toulouse being accused\nof heresy, for the sum of his belief referred himself to that of his\nmaster, a young student, prisoner with him, choosing rather to die than\nsuffer himself to be persuaded that his master could err.  We read that\nof the inhabitants of Arras, when Louis XI. took that city, a great many\nlet themselves be hanged rather than they would say, \"God save the King.\"\nAnd amongst that mean-souled race of men, the buffoons, there have been\nsome who would not leave their fooling at the very moment of death.  One\nthat the hang man was turning off the ladder cried: \"Launch the galley,\"\nan ordinary saying of his.  Another, whom at the point of death his\nfriends had laid upon a bed of straw before the fire, the physician\nasking him where his pain lay: \"Betwixt the bench and the fire,\" said he,\nand the priest, to give him extreme unction, groping for his feet which\nhis pain had made him pull up to him: \"You will find them,\" said he, \"at\nthe end of my legs.\"  To one who being present exhorted him to recommend\nhimself to God: \"Why, who goes thither?\"  said he; and the other\nreplying: \"It will presently be yourself, if it be His good pleasure.\"\n\"Shall I be sure to be there by to-morrow night?\" said he.  \"Do, but\nrecommend yourself to Him,\" said the other, \"and you will soon be there.\"\n\"I were best then,\" said he, \"to carry my recommendations myself.\"\n\nIn the kingdom of Narsingah to this day the wives of their priests are\nburied alive with the bodies of their husbands; all other wives are burnt\nat their husbands' funerals, which they not only firmly but cheerfully\nundergo.  At the death of their king, his wives and concubines, his\nfavourites, all his officers, and domestic servants, who make up a whole\npeople, present themselves so gaily to the fire where his body is burnt,\nthat they seem to take it for a singular honour to accompany their master\nin death.  During our late wars of Milan, where there happened so many\ntakings and retakings of towns, the people, impatient of so many changes\nof fortune, took such a resolution to die, that I have heard my father\nsay he there saw a list taken of five-and-twenty masters of families who\nmade themselves away in one week's time: an incident somewhat resembling\nthat of the Xanthians, who being besieged by Brutus, fell--men, women,\nand children--into such a furious appetite of dying, that nothing can be\ndone to evade death which they did not to avoid life; insomuch that\nBrutus had much difficulty in saving a very small number.--[\"Only fifty\nwere saved.\"--Plutarch, Life of Brutus, c. 8.]\n\nEvery opinion is of force enough to cause itself to be espoused at the\nexpense of life.  The first article of that valiant oath that Greece took\nand observed in the Median war, was that every one should sooner exchange\nlife for death, than their own laws for those of Persia.  What a world of\npeople do we see in the wars betwixt the Turks and the Greeks, rather\nembrace a cruel death than uncircumcise themselves to admit of baptism?\nAn example of which no sort of religion is incapable.\n\nThe kings of Castile having banished the Jews out of their dominions,\nJohn, King of Portugal, in consideration of eight crowns a head, sold\nthem a retreat into his for a certain limited time, upon condition that\nthe time fixed coming to expire they should begone, and he to furnish\nthem with shipping to transport them into Africa.  The day comes, which\nonce lapsed they were given to understand that such as were afterward\nfound in the kingdom should remain slaves; vessels were very slenderly\nprovided; and those who embarked in them were rudely and villainously\nused by the passengers, who, besides other indignities, kept them\ncruising upon the sea, one while forwards and another backwards, till\nthey had spent all their provisions, and were constrained to buy of them\nat so dear a rate and so long withal, that they set them not on shore\ntill they were all stripped to the very shirts.  The news of this inhuman\nusage being brought to those who remained behind, the greater part of\nthem resolved upon slavery and some made a show of changing religion.\nEmmanuel, the successor of John, being come to the crown, first set them\nat liberty, and afterwards altering his mind, ordered them to depart his\ncountry, assigning three ports for their passage.  He hoped, says Bishop\nOsorius, no contemptible Latin historian of these later times, that the\nfavour of the liberty he had given them having failed of converting them\nto Christianity, yet the difficulty of committing themselves to the mercy\nof the mariners and of abandoning a country they were now habituated to\nand were grown very rich in, to go and expose themselves in strange and\nunknown regions, would certainly do it.  But finding himself deceived in\nhis expectation, and that they were all resolved upon the voyage, he cut\noff two of the three ports he had promised them, to the end that the\nlength and incommodity of the passage might reduce some, or that he might\nhave opportunity, by crowding them all into one place, the more\nconveniently to execute what he had designed, which was to force all the\nchildren under fourteen years of age from the arms of their fathers and\nmothers, to transport them from their sight and conversation, into a\nplace where they might be instructed and brought up in our religion.  He\nsays that this produced a most horrid spectacle the natural affection\nbetwixt the parents and their children, and moreover their zeal to their\nancient belief, contending against this violent decree, fathers and\nmothers were commonly seen making themselves away, and by a yet much more\nrigorous example, precipitating out of love and compassion their young\nchildren into wells and pits, to avoid the severity of this law.  As to\nthe remainder of them, the time that had been prefixed being expired,\nfor want of means to transport them they again returned into slavery.\nSome also turned Christians, upon whose faith, as also that of their\nposterity, even to this day, which is a hundred years since, few\nPortuguese can yet rely; though custom and length of time are much more\npowerful counsellors in such changes than all other constraints whatever.\nIn the town of Castelnaudari, fifty heretic Albigeois at one time\nsuffered themselves to be burned alive in one fire rather than they would\nrenounce their opinions.\n\n     \"Quoties non modo ductores nostri, sed universi etiam exercitus,\n     ad non dubiam mortem concurrerunt?\"\n\n     [\"How often have not only our leaders, but whole armies, run to a\n     certain and manifest death.\"--Cicero, Tusc. Quaes., i. 37.]\n\nI have seen an intimate friend of mine run headlong upon death with a\nreal affection, and that was rooted in his heart by divers plausible\narguments which he would never permit me to dispossess him of, and upon\nthe first honourable occasion that offered itself to him, precipitate\nhimself into it, without any manner of visible reason, with an obstinate\nand ardent desire of dying.  We have several examples in our own times of\npersons, even young children, who for fear of some little inconvenience\nhave despatched themselves.  And what shall we not fear, says one of the\nancients--[Seneca, Ep., 70.]--to this purpose, if we dread that which\ncowardice itself has chosen for its refuge?\n\nShould I here produce a long catalogue of those, of all sexes and\nconditions and sects, even in the most happy ages, who have either with\ngreat constancy looked death in the face, or voluntarily sought it, and\nsought it not only to avoid the evils of this life, but some purely to\navoid the satiety of living, and others for the hope of a better\ncondition elsewhere, I should never have done.  Nay, the number is so\ninfinite that in truth I should have a better bargain on't to reckon up\nthose who have feared it.  This one therefore shall serve for all:\nPyrrho the philosopher being one day in a boat in a very great tempest,\nshewed to those he saw the most affrighted about him, and encouraged\nthem, by the example of a hog that was there, nothing at all concerned at\nthe storm.  Shall we then dare to say that this advantage of reason, of\nwhich we so much boast, and upon the account of which we think ourselves\nmasters and emperors over the rest of all creation, was given us for a\ntorment?  To what end serves the knowledge of things if it renders us\nmore unmanly? if we thereby lose the tranquillity and repose we should\nenjoy without it? and if it put us into a worse condition than Pyrrho's\nhog?  Shall we employ the understanding that was conferred upon us for\nour greatest good to our own ruin; setting ourselves against the design\nof nature and the universal order of things, which intend that every one\nshould make use of the faculties, members, and means he has to his own\nbest advantage?\n\nBut it may, peradventure, be objected against me: Your rule is true\nenough as to what concerns death; but what will you say of indigence?\nWhat will you, moreover, say of pain, which Aristippus, Hieronimus, and\nmost of the sages have reputed the worst of evils; and those who have\ndenied it by word of mouth have, however, confessed it in effect?\nPosidonius being extremely tormented with a sharp and painful disease,\nPompeius came to visit him, excusing himself that he had taken so\nunseasonable a time to come to hear him discourse of philosophy.\n\"The gods forbid,\" said Posidonius to him, \"that pain should ever have\nthe power to hinder me from talking,\" and thereupon fell immediately upon\na discourse of the contempt of pain: but, in the meantime, his own\ninfirmity was playing his part, and plagued him to purpose; to which he\ncried out, \"Thou mayest work thy will, pain, and torment me with all the\npower thou hast, but thou shalt never make me say that thou art an evil.\"\nThis story that they make such a clutter withal, what has it to do,\nI fain would know, with the contempt of pain?  He only fights it with\nwords, and in the meantime, if the shootings and dolours he felt did not\nmove him, why did he interrupt his discourse?  Why did he fancy he did so\ngreat a thing in forbearing to confess it an evil?  All does not here\nconsist in the imagination; our fancies may work upon other things: but\nhere is the certain science that is playing its part, of which our senses\nthemselves are judges:\n\n          \"Qui nisi sunt veri, ratio quoque falsa sit omnis.\"\n\n     [\"Which, if they be not true, all reasoning may also be false.\n     --\"Lucretius, iv. 486.]\n\nShall we persuade our skins that the jerks of a whip agreeably tickle us,\nor our taste that a potion of aloes is vin de Graves?  Pyrrho's hog is\nhere in the same predicament with us; he is not afraid of death, 'tis\ntrue, but if you beat him he will cry out to some purpose.  Shall we\nforce the general law of nature, which in every living creature under\nheaven is seen to tremble under pain?  The very trees seem to groan under\nthe blows they receive.  Death is only felt by reason, forasmuch as it is\nthe motion of an instant;\n\n         \"Aut fuit, aut veniet; nihil est praesentis in illa.\"\n\n     [\"Death has been, or will come: there is nothing of the present in\n     it.\"--Estienne de la Boetie, Satires.]\n\n          \"Morsque minus poenae, quam mora mortis, habet;\"\n\n     [\"The delay of death is more painful than death itself.\"\n     --Ovid, Ep. Ariadne to Theseus, v. 42.]\n\na thousand beasts, a thousand men, are sooner dead than threatened.  That\nalso which we principally pretend to fear in death is pain, its ordinary\nforerunner: yet, if we may believe a holy father:\n\n          \"Malam mortem non facit, nisi quod sequitur mortem.\"\n\n          [\"That which follows death makes death bad.\"\n          --St. Augustin, De Civit. Dei, i. ii.]\n\nAnd I should yet say, more probably, that neither that which goes before\nnor that which follows after is at all of the appurtenances of death.\n\nWe excuse ourselves falsely: and I find by experience that it is rather\nthe impatience of the imagination of death that makes us impatient of\npain, and that we find it doubly grievous as it threatens us with death.\nBut reason accusing our cowardice for fearing a thing so sudden, so\ninevitable, and so insensible, we take the other as the more excusable\npretence.  All ills that carry no other danger along with them but simply\nthe evils themselves, we treat as things of no danger: the toothache or\nthe gout, painful as they are, yet being not reputed mortal, who reckons\nthem in the catalogue of diseases?\n\nBut let us presuppose that in death we principally regard the pain; as\nalso there is nothing to be feared in poverty but the miseries it brings\nalong with it of thirst, hunger, cold, heat, watching, and the other\ninconveniences it makes us suffer, still we have nothing to do with\nanything but pain.  I will grant, and very willingly, that it is the\nworst incident of our being (for I am the man upon earth who the most\nhates and avoids it, considering that hitherto, I thank God, I have had\nso little traffic with it), but still it is in us, if not to annihilate,\nat least to lessen it by patience; and though the body and the reason\nshould mutiny, to maintain the soul, nevertheless, in good condition.\nWere it not so, who had ever given reputation to virtue; valour, force,\nmagnanimity, and resolution?  where were their parts to be played if\nthere were no pain to be defied?\n\n               \"Avida est periculi virtus.\"\n\n     [\"Courage is greedy of danger.\"--Seneca, De Providentia, c. 4]\n\nWere there no lying upon the hard ground, no enduring, armed at all\npoints, the meridional heats, no feeding upon the flesh of horses and\nasses, no seeing a man's self hacked and hewed to pieces, no suffering a\nbullet to be pulled out from amongst the shattered bones, no sewing up,\ncauterising and searching of wounds, by what means were the advantage we\ncovet to have over the vulgar to be acquired?  'Tis far from flying evil\nand pain, what the sages say, that of actions equally good, a man should\nmost covet to perform that wherein there is greater labour and pain.\n\n          \"Non est enim hilaritate, nec lascivia, nec risu, aut joco\n          comite levitatis, sed saepe etiam tristes firmitate et\n          constantia sunt beati.\"\n\n     [\"For men are not only happy by mirth and wantonness, by laughter\n     and jesting, the companion of levity, but ofttimes the serious sort\n     reap felicity from their firmness and constancy.\"\n     --Cicero, De Finib. ii. 10.]\n\nAnd for this reason it has ever been impossible to persuade our\nforefathers but that the victories obtained by dint of force and the\nhazard of war were not more honourable than those performed in great\nsecurity by stratagem or practice:\n\n          \"Laetius est, quoties magno sibi constat honestum.\"\n\n     [\"A good deed is all the more a satisfaction by how much the more\n     it has cost us\"--Lucan, ix. 404.]\n\nBesides, this ought to be our comfort, that naturally, if the pain be\nviolent, 'tis but short; and if long, nothing violent:\n\n                        \"Si gravis, brevis;\n                         Si longus, levis.\"\n\nThou wilt not feel it long if thou feelest it too much; it will either\nput an end to itself or to thee; it comes to the same thing; if thou\ncanst not support it, it will export thee:\n\n     [\"Remember that the greatest pains are terminated by death; that\n     slighter pains have long intermissions of repose, and that we are\n     masters of the more moderate sort: so that, if they be tolerable,\n     we bear them; if not, we can go out of life, as from a theatre, when\n     it does not please us\"--Cicero, De Finib. i. 15.]\n\nThat which makes us suffer pain with so much impatience is the not being\naccustomed to repose our chiefest contentment in the soul; that we do not\nenough rely upon her who is the sole and sovereign mistress of our\ncondition.  The body, saving in the greater or less proportion, has but\none and the same bent and bias; whereas the soul is variable into all\nsorts of forms; and subject to herself and to her own empire, all things\nwhatsoever, both the senses of the body and all other accidents: and\ntherefore it is that we ought to study her, to inquire into her, and to\nrouse up all her powerful faculties.  There is neither reason, force, nor\nprescription that can anything prevail against her inclination and\nchoice.  Of so many thousands of biases that she has at her disposal, let\nus give her one proper to our repose and conversation, and then we shall\nnot only be sheltered and secured from all manner of injury and offence,\nbut moreover gratified and obliged, if she will, with evils and offences.\nShe makes her profit indifferently of all things; error, dreams, serve\nher to good use, as loyal matter to lodge us in safety and contentment.\n'Tis plain enough to be seen that 'tis the sharpness of our mind that\ngives the edge to our pains and pleasures: beasts that have no such\nthing, leave to their bodies their own free and natural sentiments, and\nconsequently in every kind very near the same, as appears by the\nresembling application of their motions.  If we would not disturb in our\nmembers the jurisdiction that appertains to them in this, 'tis to be\nbelieved it would be the better for us, and that nature has given them a\njust and moderate temper both to pleasure and pain; neither can it fail\nof being just, being equal and common.  But seeing we have enfranchised\nourselves from her rules to give ourselves up to the rambling liberty of\nour own fancies, let us at least help to incline them to the most\nagreeable side.  Plato fears our too vehemently engaging ourselves with\npain and pleasure, forasmuch as these too much knit and ally the soul to\nthe body; whereas I rather, quite contrary, by reason it too much\nseparates and disunites them.  As an enemy is made more fierce by our\nflight, so pain grows proud to see us truckle under her.  She will\nsurrender upon much better terms to them who make head against her: a man\nmust oppose and stoutly set himself against her.  In retiring and giving\nground, we invite and pull upon ourselves the ruin that threatens us.  As\nthe body is more firm in an encounter, the more stiffly and obstinately\nit applies itself to it, so is it with the soul.\n\nBut let us come to examples, which are the proper game of folks of such\nfeeble force as myself; where we shall find that it is with pain as with\nstones, that receive a brighter or a duller lustre according to the foil\nthey are set in, and that it has no more room in us than we are pleased\nto allow it:\n\n          \"Tantum doluerunt, quantum doloribus se inseruerunt.\"\n\n     [\"They suffered so much the more, by how much more they gave way to\n     suffering.\"--St. Augustin, De Civit. Dei, i. 10.]\n\nWe are more sensible of one little touch of a surgeon's lancet than of\ntwenty wounds with a sword in the heat of fight.  The pains of\nchildbearing, said by the physicians and by God himself to be great, and\nwhich we pass through with so many ceremonies--there are whole nations\nthat make nothing of them.  I set aside the Lacedaemonian women, but what\nelse do you find in the Swiss among our foot-soldiers, if not that, as\nthey trot after their husbands, you see them to-day carry the child at\ntheir necks that they carried yesterday in their bellies?  The\ncounterfeit Egyptians we have amongst us go themselves to wash theirs,\nso soon as they come into the world, and bathe in the first river they\nmeet.  Besides so many wenches as daily drop their children by stealth,\nas they conceived them, that fair and noble wife of Sabinus, a patrician\nof Rome, for another's interest, endured alone, without help, without\ncrying out, or so much as a groan, the bearing of twins.--[Plutarch, On\nLove, c.  34.]--A poor simple boy of Lacedaemon having stolen a fox (for\nthey more fear the shame of stupidity in stealing than we do the\npunishment of the knavery), and having got it under his coat, rather\nendured the tearing out of his bowels than he would discover his theft.\nAnd another offering incense at a sacrifice, suffered himself to be\nburned to the bone by a coal that fell into his sleeve, rather than\ndisturb the ceremony.  And there have been a great number, for a sole\ntrial of virtue, following their institutions, who have at seven years\nold endured to be whipped to death without changing their countenance.\nAnd Cicero has seen them fight in parties, with fists, feet, and teeth,\ntill they have fainted and sunk down, rather than confess themselves\novercome:\n\n     [\"Custom could never conquer nature; she is ever invincible; but we\n     have infected the mind with shadows, delights, negligence, sloth;\n     we have grown effeminate through opinions and corrupt morality.\"\n     --Cicero, Tusc. Quaes., v. 27.]\n\nEvery one knows the story of Scaevola, that having slipped into the\nenemy's camp to kill their general, and having missed his blow, to repair\nhis fault, by a more strange invention and to deliver his country, he\nboldly confessed to Porsenna, who was the king he had a purpose to kill,\nnot only his design, but moreover added that there were then in the camp\na great number of Romans, his accomplices in the enterprise, as good men\nas he; and to show what a one he himself was, having caused a pan of\nburning coals to be brought, he saw and endured his arm to broil and\nroast, till the king himself, conceiving horror at the sight, commanded\nthe pan to be taken away.  What would you say of him that would not\nvouchsafe to respite his reading in a book whilst he was under incision?\nAnd of the other that persisted to mock and laugh in contempt of the\npains inflicted upon him; so that the provoked cruelty of the\nexecutioners that had him in handling, and all the inventions of tortures\nredoubled upon him, one after another, spent in vain, gave him the\nbucklers?  But he was a philosopher.  But what! a gladiator of Caesar's\nendured, laughing all the while, his wounds to be searched, lanced, and\nlaid open:\n\n     [\"What ordinary gladiator ever groaned?  Which of them ever changed\n     countenance?  Which of them not only stood or fell indecorously?\n     Which, when he had fallen and was commanded to receive the stroke of\n     the sword, contracted his neck.\"--Cicero, Tusc. Quaes., ii. 17.]\n\n\nLet us bring in the women too.  Who has not heard at Paris of her that\ncaused her face to be flayed only for the fresher complexion of a new\nskin?  There are who have drawn good and sound teeth to make their voices\nmore soft and sweet, or to place the other teeth in better order.  How\nmany examples of the contempt of pain have we in that sex?  What can they\nnot do, what do they fear to do, for never so little hope of an addition\nto their beauty?\n\n               \"Vallere queis cura est albos a stirpe capillos,\n               Et faciem, dempta pelle, referre novam.\"\n\n     [\"Who carefully pluck out their grey hairs by the roots, and renew\n     their faces by peeling off the old skin.\"--Tibullus, i. 8, 45.]\n\nI have seen some of them swallow sand, ashes, and do their utmost to\ndestroy their stomachs to get pale complexions.  To make a fine Spanish\nbody, what racks will they not endure of girding and bracing, till they\nhave notches in their sides cut into the very quick, and sometimes to\ndeath?\n\nIt is an ordinary thing with several nations at this day to wound\nthemselves in good earnest to gain credit to what they profess; of which\nour king, relates notable examples of what he has seen in Poland and done\ntowards himself.--[Henry III.]--But besides this, which I know to have\nbeen imitated by some in France, when I came from that famous assembly of\nthe Estates at Blois, I had a little before seen a maid in Picardy, who\nto manifest the ardour of her promises, as also her constancy, give\nherself, with a bodkin she wore in her hair, four or five good lusty\nstabs in the arm, till the blood gushed out to some purpose.  The Turks\ngive themselves great scars in honour of their mistresses, and to the end\nthey may the longer remain, they presently clap fire to the wound, where\nthey hold it an incredible time to stop the blood and form the cicatrice;\npeople that have been eyewitnesses of it have both written and sworn it\nto me.  But for ten aspers--[A Turkish coin worth about a penny]--there\nare there every day fellows to be found that will give themselves a good\ndeep slash in the arms or thighs.  I am willing, however, to have the\ntestimonies nearest to us when we have most need of them; for Christendom\nfurnishes us with enough.  After the example of our blessed Guide there\nhave been many who have crucified themselves.  We learn by testimony very\nworthy of belief, that King St. Louis wore a hair-shirt till in his old\nage his confessor gave him a dispensation to leave it off; and that every\nFriday he caused his shoulders to be drubbed by his priest with five\nsmall chains of iron which were always carried about amongst his night\naccoutrements for that purpose.\n\nWilliam, our last Duke of Guienne, the father of that Eleanor who\ntransmitted that duchy to the houses of France and England, continually\nfor the last ten or twelve years of his life wore a suit of armour under\na religious habit by way of penance.  Foulke, Count of Anjou, went as far\nas Jerusalem, there to cause himself to be whipped by two of his\nservants, with a rope about his neck, before the sepulchre of our Lord.\nBut do we not, moreover, every Good Friday, in various places, see great\nnumbers of men and women beat and whip themselves till they lacerate and\ncut the flesh to the very bones?  I have often seen it, and 'tis without\nany enchantment; and it was said there were some amongst them (for they\ngo disguised) who for money undertook by this means to save harmless the\nreligion of others, by a contempt of pain, so much the greater, as the\nincentives of devotion are more effectual than those of avarice.\nQ. Maximus buried his son when he was a consul, and M. Cato his when\npraetor elect, and L. Paulus both his, within a few days one after\nanother, with such a countenance as expressed no manner of grief.  I said\nonce merrily of a certain person, that he had disappointed the divine\njustice; for the violent death of three grown-up children of his being\none day sent him, for a severe scourge, as it is to be supposed, he was\nso far from being afflicted at the accident, that he rather took it for a\nparticular grace and favour of heaven.  I do not follow these monstrous\nhumours, though I lost two or three at nurse, if not without grief, at\nleast without repining, and yet there is hardly any accident that pierces\nnearer to the quick.  I see a great many other occasions of sorrow, that\nshould they happen to me I should hardly feel; and have despised some,\nwhen they have befallen me, to which the world has given so terrible a\nfigure that I should blush to boast of my constancy:\n\n         \"Ex quo intelligitur, non in natura, sed in opinione,\n          esse aegritudinem.\"\n\n     [\"By which one may understand that grief is not in nature, but in\n     opinion.\"--Cicero, Tusc. Quaes., iii. 28.]\n\nOpinion is a powerful party, bold, and without measure.  Who ever so\ngreedily hunted after security and repose as Alexander and Caesar did\nafter disturbance and difficulties?  Teres, the father of Sitalces, was\nwont to say that \"when he had no wars, he fancied there was no difference\nbetwixt him and his groom.\"  Cato the consul, to secure some cities of\nSpain from revolt, only interdicting the inhabitants from wearing arms, a\ngreat many killed themselves:\n\n          \"Ferox gens, nullam vitam rati sine armis esse.\"\n\n     [\"A fierce people, who thought there was no life without war.\"\n     --Livy, xxxiv. 17.]\n\nHow many do we know who have forsaken the calm and sweetness of a quiet\nlife at home amongst their acquaintance, to seek out the horror of\nunhabitable deserts; and having precipitated themselves into so abject a\ncondition as to become the scorn and contempt of the world, have hugged\nthemselves with the conceit, even to affectation.  Cardinal Borromeo, who\ndied lately at Milan, amidst all the jollity that the air of Italy, his\nyouth, birth, and great riches, invited him to, kept himself in so\naustere a way of living, that the same robe he wore in summer served him\nfor winter too; he had only straw for his bed, and his hours of leisure\nfrom affairs he continually spent in study upon his knees, having a\nlittle bread and a glass of water set by his book, which was all the\nprovision of his repast, and all the time he spent in eating.\n\nI know some who consentingly have acquired both profit and advancement\nfrom cuckoldom, of which the bare name only affrights so many people.\n\nIf the sight be not the most necessary of all our senses, 'tis at least\nthe most pleasant; but the most pleasant and most useful of all our\nmembers seem to be those of generation; and yet a great many have\nconceived a mortal hatred against them only for this, that they were too\npleasant, and have deprived themselves of them only for their value:\nas much thought he of his eyes that put them out.  The generality and\nmore solid sort of men look upon abundance of children as a great\nblessing; I, and some others, think it as great a benefit to be without\nthem.  And when you ask Thales why he does not marry, he tells you,\nbecause he has no mind to leave any posterity behind him.\n\nThat our opinion gives the value to things is very manifest in the great\nnumber of those which we do, not so much prizing them, as ourselves, and\nnever considering either their virtues or their use, but only how dear\nthey cost us, as though that were a part of their substance; and we only\nrepute for value in them, not what they bring to us, but what we add to\nthem.  By which I understand that we are great economisers of our\nexpense: as it weighs, it serves for so much as it weighs.  Our opinion\nwill never suffer it to want of its value: the price gives value to the\ndiamond; difficulty to virtue; suffering to devotion; and griping to\nphysic.  A certain person, to be poor, threw his crowns into the same sea\nto which so many come, in all parts of the world, to fish for riches.\nEpicurus says  that to be rich is no relief, but only an alteration, of\naffairs.  In truth, it is not want, but rather abundance, that creates\navarice.  I will deliver my own experience concerning this affair.\n\nI have since my emergence from childhood lived in three sorts of\nconditions.  The first, which continued for some twenty years, I passed\nover without any other means but what were casual and depending upon the\nallowance and assistance of others, without stint, but without certain\nrevenue.  I then spent my money so much the more cheerfully, and with so\nmuch the less care how it went, as it wholly depended upon my\noverconfidence of fortune.  I never lived more at my ease; I never had\nthe repulse of finding the purse of any of my friends shut against me,\nhaving enjoined myself this necessity above all other necessities\nwhatever, by no means to fail of payment at the appointed time, which\nalso they have a thousand times respited, seeing how careful I was to\nsatisfy them; so that I practised at once a thrifty, and withal a kind of\nalluring, honesty.  I naturally feel a kind of pleasure in paying, as if\nI eased my shoulders of a troublesome weight and freed myself from an\nimage of slavery; as also that I find a ravishing kind of satisfaction in\npleasing another and doing a just action.  I except payments where the\ntrouble of bargaining and reckoning is required; and in such cases; where\nI can meet with nobody to ease me of that charge, I delay them, how\nscandalously and injuriously soever, all I possibly can, for fear of the\nwranglings for which both my humour and way of speaking are so totally\nimproper and unfit.  There is nothing I hate so much as driving a\nbargain; 'tis a mere traffic of cozenage and impudence, where, after an\nhour's cheapening and hesitating, both parties abandon their word and\noath for five sols' abatement.  Yet I always borrowed at great\ndisadvantage; for, wanting the confidence to speak to the person myself,\nI committed my request to the persuasion of a letter, which usually is no\nvery successful advocate, and is of very great advantage to him who has a\nmind to deny.  I, in those days, more jocundly and freely referred the\nconduct of my affairs to the stars, than I have since done to my own\nprovidence and judgment.  Most good managers look upon it as a horrible\nthing to live always thus in uncertainty, and do not consider, in the\nfirst place, that the greatest part of the world live so: how many worthy\nmen have wholly abandoned their own certainties, and yet daily do it, to\nthe winds, to trust to the inconstant favour of princes and of fortune?\nCaesar ran above a million of gold, more than he was worth, in debt to\nbecome Caesar; and how many merchants have begun their traffic by the\nsale of their farms, which they sent into the Indies,\n\n                    \"Tot per impotentia freta.\"\n\n     [\"Through so many ungovernable seas.\"--Catullus, iv. 18.]\n\nIn so great a siccity of devotion as we see in these days, we have a\nthousand and a thousand colleges that pass it over commodiously enough,\nexpecting every day their dinner from the liberality of Heaven.\nSecondly, they do not take notice that this certitude upon which they so\nmuch rely is not much less uncertain and hazardous than hazard itself.\nI see misery as near beyond two thousand crowns a year as if it stood\nclose by me; for besides that it is in the power of chance to make a\nhundred breaches to poverty through the greatest strength of our riches\n--there being very often no mean betwixt the highest and the lowest\nfortune:\n\n          \"Fortuna vitrea est: turn, quum splendet, frangitur,\"\n\n     [\"Fortune is glass: in its greatest brightness it breaks.\"\n     --Ex Mim. P. Syrus.]\n\nand to turn all our barricadoes and bulwarks topsy-turvy, I find that, by\ndivers causes, indigence is as frequently seen to inhabit with those who\nhave estates as with those that have none; and that, peradventure, it is\nthen far less grievous when alone than when accompanied with riches.\nThese flow more from good management than from revenue;\n\n               \"Faber est suae quisque fortunae\"\n\n          [\"Every one is the maker of his own fortune.\"\n          --Sallust, De Repub.  Ord., i. I.]\n\nand an uneasy, necessitous, busy, rich man seems to me more miserable\nthan he that is simply poor.\n\n     \"In divitiis mopes, quod genus egestatis gravissimum est.\"\n\n     [\"Poor in the midst of riches, which is the sorest kind of poverty.\"\n     --Seneca, Ep., 74.]\n\nThe greatest and most wealthy princes are by poverty and want driven to\nthe most extreme necessity; for can there be any more extreme than to\nbecome tyrants and unjust usurpers of their subjects' goods and estates?\n\nMy second condition of life was to have money of my own, wherein I so\nordered the matter that I had soon laid up a very notable sum out of a\nmean fortune, considering with myself that that only was to be reputed\nhaving which a man reserves from his ordinary expense, and that a man\ncannot absolutely rely upon revenue he hopes to receive, how clear soever\nthe hope may be.  For what, said I, if I should be surprised by such or\nsuch an accident?  And after such-like vain and vicious imaginations,\nwould very learnedly, by this hoarding of money, provide against all\ninconveniences; and could, moreover, answer such as objected to me that\nthe number of these was too infinite, that if I could not lay up for all,\nI could, however, do it at least for some and for many.  Yet was not this\ndone without a great deal of solicitude and anxiety of mind; I kept it\nvery close, and though I dare talk so boldly of myself, never spoke of my\nmoney, but falsely, as others do, who being rich, pretend to be poor, and\nbeing poor, pretend to be rich, dispensing their consciences from ever\ntelling sincerely what they have: a ridiculous and shameful prudence.\nWas I going a journey?  Methought I was never enough provided: and the\nmore I loaded myself with money, the more also was I loaded with fear,\none while of the danger of the roads, another of the fidelity of him who\nhad the charge of my baggage, of whom, as some others that I know, I was\nnever sufficiently secure if I had him not always in my eye.  If I\nchanced to leave my cash-box behind me, O, what strange suspicions and\nanxiety of mind did I enter into, and, which was worse, without daring to\nacquaint anybody with it.  My mind was eternally taken up with such\nthings as these, so that, all things considered, there is more trouble in\nkeeping money than in getting it.  And if I did not altogether so much as\nI say, or was not really so scandalously solicitous of my money as I have\nmade myself out to be, yet it cost me something at least to restrain\nmyself from being so.  I reaped little or no advantage by what I had, and\nmy expenses seemed nothing less to me for having the more to spend; for,\nas Bion said, the hairy men are as angry as the bald to be pulled; and\nafter you are once accustomed to it and have once set your heart upon\nyour heap, it is no more at your service; you cannot find in your heart\nto break it: 'tis a building that you will fancy must of necessity all\ntumble down to ruin if you stir but the least pebble; necessity must\nfirst take you by the throat before you can prevail upon yourself to\ntouch it; and I would sooner have pawned anything I had, or sold a horse,\nand with much less constraint upon myself, than have made the least\nbreach in that beloved purse I had so carefully laid by.  But the danger\nwas that a man cannot easily prescribe certain limits to this desire\n(they are hard to find in things that a man conceives to be good), and to\nstint this good husbandry so that it may not degenerate into avarice: men\nstill are intent upon adding to the heap and increasing the stock from\nsum to sum, till at last they vilely deprive themselves of the enjoyment\nof their own proper goods, and throw all into reserve, without making any\nuse of them at all.  According to this rule, they are the richest people\nin the world who are set to guard the walls and gates of a wealthy city.\nAll moneyed men I conclude to be covetous.  Plato places corporal or\nhuman goods in this order: health, beauty, strength, riches; and riches,\nsays he, are not blind, but very clear-sighted, when illuminated by\nprudence.  Dionysius the son did a very handsome act upon this subject;\nhe was informed that one of the Syracusans had hid a treasure in the\nearth, and thereupon sent to the man to bring it to him, which he\naccordingly did, privately reserving a small part of it only to himself,\nwith which he went to another city, where being cured of his appetite of\nhoarding, he began to live at a more liberal rate; which Dionysius\nhearing, caused the rest of his treasure to be restored to him, saying,\nthat since he had learned to use it, he very willingly returned it back\nto him.\n\nI continued some years in this hoarding humour, when I know not what good\ndemon fortunately put me out of it, as he did the Syracusan, and made me\nthrow abroad all my reserve at random, the pleasure of a certain journey\nI took at very great expense having made me spurn this fond love of money\nunderfoot; by which means I am now fallen into a third way of living (I\nspeak what I think of it), doubtless much more pleasant and regular,\nwhich is, that I live at the height of my revenue; sometimes the one,\nsometimes the other may perhaps exceed, but 'tis very little and but\nrarely that they differ.  I live from hand to mouth, and content myself\nin having sufficient for my present and ordinary expense; for as to\nextraordinary occasions, all the laying up in the world would never\nsuffice.  And 'tis the greatest folly imaginable to expect that fortune\nshould ever sufficiently arm us against herself; 'tis with our own arms\nthat we are to fight her; accidental ones will betray us in the pinch of\nthe business.  If I lay up, 'tis for some near and contemplated purpose;\nnot to purchase lands, of which I have no need, but to purchase pleasure:\n\n     \"Non esse cupidum, pecunia est; non esse emacem, vertigal est.\"\n\n     [\"Not to be covetous, is money; not to be acquisitive, is revenue.\"\n     --Cicero, Paradox., vi. 3.]\n\nI neither am in any great apprehension of wanting, nor in desire of any\nmore:\n\n     \"Divinarum fructus est in copia; copiam declarat satietas.\"\n\n     [\"The fruit of riches is in abundance; satiety declares abundance.\"\n     --Idem, ibid., vi. 2.]\n\nAnd I am very well pleased that this reformation in me has fallen out in\nan age naturally inclined to avarice, and that I see myself cleared of a\nfolly so common to old men, and the most ridiculous of all human follies.\n\nFeraulez, a man that had run through both fortunes, and found that the\nincrease of substance was no increase of appetite either to eating or\ndrinking, sleeping or the enjoyment of his wife, and who on the other\nside felt the care of his economics lie heavy upon his shoulders, as it\ndoes on mine, was resolved to please a poor young man, his faithful\nfriend, who panted after riches, and made him a gift of all his, which\nwere excessively great, and, moreover, of all he was in the daily way of\ngetting by the liberality of Cyrus, his good master, and by the war;\nconditionally that he should take care handsomely to maintain and\nplentifully to entertain him as his guest and friend; which being\naccordingly done, they afterwards lived very happily together, both of\nthem equally content with the change of their condition.  'Tis an example\nthat I could imitate with all my heart; and I very much approve the\nfortune of the aged prelate whom I see to have so absolutely stripped\nhimself of his purse, his revenue, and care of his expense, committing\nthem one while to one trusty servant, and another while to another, that\nhe has spun out a long succession of years, as ignorant, by this means,\nof his domestic affairs as a mere stranger.\n\nThe confidence in another man's virtue is no light evidence of a man's\nown, and God willingly favours such a confidence.  As to what concerns\nhim of whom I am speaking, I see nowhere a better governed house, more\nnobly and constantly maintained than his.  Happy to have regulated his\naffairs to so just a proportion that his estate is sufficient to do it\nwithout his care or trouble, and without any hindrance, either in the\nspending or laying it up, to his other more quiet employments, and more\nsuitable both to his place and liking.\n\nPlenty, then, and indigence depend upon the opinion every one has of\nthem; and riches no more than glory or health have other beauty or\npleasure than he lends them by whom they are possessed.\n\nEvery one is well or ill at ease, according as he so finds himself; not\nhe whom the world believes, but he who believes himself to be so, is\ncontent; and in this alone belief gives itself being and reality.\nFortune does us neither good nor hurt; she only presents us the matter\nand the seed, which our soul, more powerful than she, turns and applies\nas she best pleases; the sole cause and sovereign mistress of her own\nhappy or unhappy condition.  All external accessions receive taste and\ncolour from the internal constitution, as clothes warm us, not with their\nheat, but our own, which they are fit to cover and nourish; he who would\nshield therewith a cold body, would do the same service for the cold, for\nso snow and ice are preserved.  And, certes, after the same manner that\nstudy is a torment to an idle man, abstinence from wine to a drunkard,\nfrugality to the spendthrift, and exercise to a lazy, tender-bred fellow,\nso it is of all the rest.  The things are not so painful and difficult of\nthemselves, but our weakness or cowardice makes them so.  To judge of\ngreat, and high matters requires a suitable soul; otherwise we attribute\nthe vice to them which is really our own.  A straight oar seems crooked\nin the water it does not only import that we see the thing, but how and\nafter what manner we see it.\n\nAfter all this, why, amongst so many discourses that by so many arguments\npersuade men to despise death and to endure pain, can we not find out one\nthat helps us?  And of so many sorts of imaginations as have so prevailed\nupon others as to persuade them to do so, why does not every one apply\nsome one to himself, the most suitable to his own humour?  If he cannot\ndigest a strong-working decoction to eradicate the evil, let him at least\ntake a lenitive to ease it:\n\n     [\"It is an effeminate and flimsy opinion, nor more so in pain than\n     in pleasure, in which, while we are at our ease, we cannot bear\n     without a cry the sting of a bee.  The whole business is to commend\n     thyself.\"--Cicero, Tusc.  Quaes., ii. 22.]\n\nAs to the rest, a man does not transgress philosophy by permitting the\nacrimony of pains and human frailty to prevail so much above measure; for\nthey constrain her to go back to her unanswerable replies: \"If it be ill\nto live in necessity, at least there is no necessity upon a man to live\nin necessity\": \"No man continues ill long but by his own fault.\"  He who\nhas neither the courage to die nor the heart to live, who will neither\nresist nor fly, what can we do with him?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLI\n\nNOT TO COMMUNICATE A MAN'S HONOUR\n\nOf all the follies of the world, that which is most universally received\nis the solicitude of reputation and glory; which we are fond of to that\ndegree as to abandon riches, peace, life, and health, which are effectual\nand substantial goods, to pursue this vain phantom and empty word, that\nhas neither body nor hold to be taken of it:\n\n               La fama, ch'invaghisce a un dolce suono\n               Gli superbi mortali, et par si bella,\n               E un eco, un sogno, anzi d'un sogno un'ombra,\n               Ch'ad ogni vento si dilegua a sgombra.\"\n\n     [\"Fame, which with alluring sound charms proud mortals, and appears\n     so fair, is but an echo, a dream, nay, the shadow of a dream, which\n     at every breath vanishes and dissolves.\"\n     --Tasso, Gerus., xiv. 63.]\n\nAnd of all the irrational humours of men, it should seem that the\nphilosophers themselves are among the last and the most reluctant to\ndisengage themselves from this: 'tis the most restive and obstinate of\nall:\n\n         \"Quia etiam bene proficientes animos tentare non cessat.\"\n\n     [\"Because it ceases not to assail even well-directed minds\"\n     --St. Augustin, De Civit. Dei, v. 14.]\n\nThere is not any one of which reason so clearly accuses the vanity; but\nit is so deeply rooted in us that I dare not determine whether any one\never clearly discharged himself from it or no.  After you have said all\nand believed all has been said to its prejudice, it produces so intestine\nan inclination in opposition to your best arguments that you have little\npower to resist it; for, as Cicero says,  even those who most controvert\nit, would yet that the books they write about it should visit the light\nunder their own names, and seek to derive glory from seeming to despise\nit.  All other things are communicable and fall into commerce: we lend\nour goods and stake our lives for the necessity and service of our\nfriends; but to communicate a man's honour, and to robe another with a\nman's own glory, is very rarely seen.\n\nAnd yet we have some examples of that kind.  Catulus Luctatius in the\nCimbrian war, having done all that in him lay to make his flying soldiers\nface about upon the enemy, ran himself at last away with the rest, and\ncounterfeited the coward, to the end his men might rather seem to follow\ntheir captain than to fly from the enemy; which was to abandon his own\nreputation in order to cover the shame of others.  When Charles V. came\ninto Provence in the year 1537, 'tis said that Antonio de Leva, seeing\nthe emperor positively resolved upon this expedition, and believing it\nwould redound very much to his honour, did, nevertheless, very stiffly\noppose it in the council, to the end that the entire glory of that\nresolution should be attributed to his master, and that it might be said\nhis own wisdom and foresight had been such as that, contrary to the\nopinion of all, he had brought about so great an enterprise; which was to\ndo him honour at his own expense.  The Thracian ambassadors coming to\ncomfort Archileonida, the mother of Brasidas, upon the death of her son,\nand commending him to that height as to say he had not left his like\nbehind him, she rejected this private and particular commendation to\nattribute it to the public: \"Tell me not that,\" said she; \"I know the\ncity of Sparta has many citizens both greater and of greater worth than\nhe.\"   In the battle of Crecy, the Prince of Wales, being then very\nyoung, had the vanguard committed to him: the main stress of the battle\nhappened to be in that place, which made the lords who were with him,\nfinding themselves overmatched, send to King Edward to advance to their\nrelief.  He inquired of the condition his son was in, and being answered\nthat he was alive and on horseback: \"I should, then, do him wrong,\" said\nthe king, \"now to go and deprive him of the honour of winning this battle\nhe has so long and so bravely sustained; what hazard soever he runs, that\nshall be entirely his own\"; and, accordingly, would neither go nor send,\nknowing that if he went, it would be said all had been lost without his\nsuccour, and that the honour of the victory would be wholly attributed to\nhim.\n\n              \"Semper enim quod postremum adjectum est,\n               id rem totam videtur traxisse.\"\n\n     [\"For always that which is last added, seems to have accomplished\n     the whole affair.\"--Livy, xxvii. 45.]\n\nMany at Rome thought, and would usually say, that the greatest of\nScipio's acts were in part due to Laelius, whose constant practice it was\nstill to advance and support Scipio's grandeur and renown, without any\ncare of his own.  And Theopompus, king of Sparta, to him who told him the\nrepublic could not miscarry since he knew so well how to command, \"Tis\nrather,\" answered he, \"because the people know so well how to obey.\"\nAs women succeeding to peerages had, notwithstanding their sex, the\nprivilege to attend and give their votes in the trials that appertained\nto the jurisdiction of peers; so the ecclesiastical peers,\nnotwithstanding their profession, were obliged to attend our kings in\ntheir wars, not only with their friends and servants, but in their own\npersons.  As the Bishop of Beauvais did, who being with Philip Augustus\nat the battle of Bouvines, had a notable share in that action; but he did\nnot think it fit for him to participate in the fruit and glory of that\nviolent and bloody trade.  He with his own hand reduced several of the\nenemy that day to his mercy, whom he delivered to the first gentleman he\nmet either to kill or receive them to quarter, referring the whole\nexecution to this other hand; and he did this with regard to William,\nEarl of Salisbury, whom he gave up to Messire Jehan de Nesle.  With a\nlike subtlety of conscience to that I have just named, he would kill but\nnot wound, and for that reason ever fought with a mace.  And a certain\nperson of my time, being reproached by the king that he had laid hands on\na priest, stiffly and positively denied he had done any such thing: the\nmeaning of which was, he had cudgelled and kicked him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLII\n\nOF THE INEQUALITY AMOUNGST US.\n\nPlutarch says somewhere that he does not find so great a difference\nbetwixt beast and beast as he does betwixt man and man; which he says in\nreference to the internal qualities and perfections of the soul.  And, in\ntruth, I find so vast a distance betwixt Epaminondas, according to my\njudgment of him, and some that I know, who are yet men of good sense,\nthat I could willingly enhance upon Plutarch, and say that there is more\ndifference betwixt such and such a man than there is betwixt such a man\nand such a beast:\n\n          [\"Ah! how much may one man surpass another!\"\n          --Terence, Eunuchus, ii. 2.]\n\nand that there are as many and innumerable degrees of mind as there are\ncubits betwixt this and heaven.  But as touching the estimate of men,\n'tis strange that, ourselves excepted, no other creature is esteemed\nbeyond its proper qualities; we commend a horse for his strength and\nsureness of foot,\n\n                              \"Volucrem\n               Sic laudamus equum, facili cui plurima palma\n               Fervet, et exsultat rauco victoria circo,\"\n\n     [\"So we praise the swift horse, for whose easy mastery many a hand\n     glows in applause, and victory exults in the hoarse circus.\n     --\"Juvenal, viii. 57.]\n\nand not for his rich caparison; a greyhound for his speed of heels, not\nfor his fine collar; a hawk for her wing, not for her gesses and bells.\nWhy, in like manner, do we not value a man for what is properly his own?\nHe has a great train, a beautiful palace, so much credit, so many\nthousand pounds a year: all these are about him, but not in him.  You\nwill not buy a pig in a poke: if you cheapen a horse, you will see him\nstripped of his housing-cloths, you will see him naked and open to your\neye; or if he be clothed, as they anciently were wont to present them to\nprinces to sell, 'tis only on the less important parts, that you may not\nso much consider the beauty of his colour or the breadth of his crupper,\nas principally to examine his legs, eyes, and feet, which are the members\nof greatest use:\n\n         \"Regibus hic mos est: ubi equos mercantur, opertos\n          Inspiciunt; ne, si facies, ut saepe, decora\n          Molli fulta pede est, emptorem inducat hiantem\"\n\n     [\"This is the custom of kings: when they buy horses, they have open\n     inspection, lest, if a fair head, as often chances, is supported by\n     a weak foot, it should tempt the gaping purchaser.\"\n     --Horace, Sat., i. 2, 86.]\n\nwhy, in giving your estimate of a man, do you prize him wrapped and\nmuffled up in clothes?  He then discovers nothing to you but such parts\nas are not in the least his own, and conceals those by which alone one\nmay rightly judge of his value.  'Tis the price of the blade that you\ninquire into, not of the scabbard: you would not peradventure bid a\nfarthing for him, if you saw him stripped.  You are to judge him by\nhimself and not by what he wears; and, as one of the ancients very\npleasantly said: \"Do you know why you repute him tall?  You reckon withal\nthe height of his pattens.\"--[Seneca, Ep. 76.]--The pedestal is no part\nof the statue.  Measure him without his stilts; let him lay aside his\nrevenues and his titles; let him present himself in his shirt. Then\nexamine if his body be sound and sprightly, active and disposed to\nperform its functions.  What soul has he?  Is she beautiful, capable, and\nhappily provided of all her faculties?  Is she rich of what is her own,\nor of what she has borrowed?  Has fortune no hand in the affair?  Can\nshe, without winking, stand the lightning of swords? is she indifferent\nwhether her life expire by the mouth or through the throat?  Is she\nsettled, even and content?  This is what is to be examined, and by that\nyou are to judge of the vast differences betwixt man and man.  Is he:\n\n          \"Sapiens, sibique imperiosus,\n          Quern neque pauperies, neque mors, neque vincula terrent;\n          Responsare cupidinibus, contemnere honores\n          Fortis; et in seipso totus teres atque rotundus,\n          Externi ne quid valeat per laeve morari;\n          In quem manca ruit semper fortuna?\"\n\n\n     [\"The wise man, self-governed, whom neither poverty, nor death,\n     nor chains affright: who has the strength to resist his appetites\n     and to contemn honours: who is wholly self-contained: whom no\n     external objects affect: whom fortune assails in vain.\"\n     --Horace, Sat., ii. 7,]\n\nsuch a man is five hundred cubits above kingdoms and duchies; he is an\nabsolute monarch in and to himself:\n\n          \"Sapiens, .  .  .  Pol!  ipse fingit fortunam sibi;\"\n\n          [\"The wise man is the master of his own fortune,\"\n          --Plautus, Trin., ii. 2, 84.]\n\nwhat remains for him to covet or desire?\n\n                         \"Nonne videmus,\n          Nil aliud sibi naturam latrare, nisi ut, quoi\n          Corpore sejunctus dolor absit, mente fruatur,\n          Jucundo sensu, cura semotu' metuque?\"\n\n     [\"Do we not see that human nature asks no more for itself than\n     that, free from bodily pain, it may exercise its mind agreeably,\n     exempt from care and fear.\"--Lucretius, ii. 16.]\n\nCompare with such a one the common rabble of mankind, stupid and\nmean-spirited, servile, instable, and continually floating with the\ntempest of various passions, that tosses and tumbles them to and fro, and\nall depending upon others, and you will find a greater distance than\nbetwixt heaven and earth; and yet the blindness of common usage is such\nthat we make little or no account of it; whereas if we consider a peasant\nand a king, a nobleman and a vassal, a magistrate and a private man, a\nrich man and a poor, there appears a vast disparity, though they differ\nno more, as a man may say, than in their breeches.\n\nIn Thrace the king was distinguished from his people after a very\npleasant and especial manner; he had a religion by himself, a god all his\nown, and which his subjects were not to presume to adore, which was\nMercury, whilst, on the other hand, he disdained to have anything to do\nwith theirs, Mars, Bacchus, and Diana.  And yet they are no other than\npictures that make no essential dissimilitude; for as you see actors in a\nplay representing the person of a duke or an emperor upon the stage, and\nimmediately after return to their true and original condition of valets\nand porters, so the emperor, whose pomp and lustre so dazzle you in\npublic:\n\n               \"Scilicet grandes viridi cum luce smaragdi\n               Auto includuntur, teriturque thalassina vestis\n               Assidue, et Veneris sudorem exercita potat;\"\n\n     [\"Because he wears great emeralds richly set in gold, darting green\n     lustre; and the sea-blue silken robe, worn with pressure, and moist\n     with illicit love (and absorbs the sweat of Venus).\"\n     --Lucretius, iv. 1123.]\n\ndo but peep behind the curtain, and you will see no thing more than an\nordinary man, and peradventure more contemptible than the meanest of his\nsubjects:\n\n     \"Ille beatus introrsum est, istius bracteata felicitas est;\"\n\n     [\"The one is happy in himself; the happiness of the other is\n     counterfeit.\"--Seneca, Ep., 115.]\n\ncowardice, irresolution, ambition, spite, and envy agitate him as much as\nanother:\n\n              \"Non enim gazae, neque consularis\n               Submovet lictor miseros tumultus\n               Mentis, et curas laqueata circum\n               Tecta volantes.\"\n\n     [\"For not treasures, nor the consular lictor, can remove the\n     miserable tumults of the mind, nor cares that fly about panelled\n     ceilings.\"--Horace, Od., ii. 16, 9.]\n\nCare and fear attack him even in the centre of his battalions:\n\n               \"Re veraque metus hominum curaeque sequaces\n               Nec metuunt sonitus armorum, nee fera tela;\n               Audacterque inter reges, rerumque potentes\n               Versantur, neque fulgorem reverentur ab auro.\"\n\n     [\"And in truth the fears and haunting cares of men fear not the\n     clash of arms nor points of darts, and mingle boldly with great\n     kings and men in authority, nor respect the glitter of gold.\"\n     --Lucretius, ii. 47.]\n\nDo fevers, gout, and apoplexies spare him any more than one of us?  When\nold age hangs heavy upon his shoulders, can the yeomen of his guard ease\nhim of the burden?  When he is astounded with the apprehension of death,\ncan the gentlemen of his bedchamber comfort and assure him?  When\njealousy or any other caprice swims in his brain, can our compliments and\nceremonies restore him to his good-humour?  The canopy embroidered with\npearl and gold he lies under has no virtue against a violent fit of the\ncolic:\n\n               \"Nee calidae citius decedunt corpore febres\n               Textilibus si in picturis, ostroque rubenti\n               Jactaris, quam si plebeia in veste cubandum est.\"\n\n     [\"Nor do burning fevers quit you sooner if you are stretched on a\n     couch of rich tapestry and in a vest of purple dye, than if you be\n     in a coarse blanket.\"--Idem, ii. 34.]\n\nThe flatterers of Alexander the Great possessed him that he was the son\nof Jupiter; but being one day wounded, and observing the blood stream\nfrom his wound: \"What say you now, my masters,\" said he, \"is not this\nblood of a crimson colour and purely human?  This is not of the\ncomplexion of that which Homer makes to issue from the wounded gods.\"\nThe poet Hermodorus had written a poem in honour of Antigonus, wherein\nhe called him the son of the sun: \"He who has the emptying of my\nclose-stool,\" said Antigonus, \"knows to the contrary.\"  He is but a man\nat best, and if he be deformed or ill-qualified from his birth, the\nempire of the universe cannot set him to rights:\n\n                                   \"Puellae\n          Hunc rapiant; quidquid calcaverit hic, rosa fiat,\"\n\n     [\"Let girls carry him off; wherever he steps let there spring up a\n     rose!\"--Persius, Sat., ii. 38.]\n\nwhat of all that, if he be a fool?  even pleasure and good fortune are\nnot relished without vigour and understanding:\n\n          \"Haec perinde sunt, ut ilius animus; qui ea possidet\n          Qui uti scit, ei bona; illi, qui non uritur recte, mala.\"\n\n     [\"Things are, as is the mind of their possessor; who knows how to\n     use them, to him they are good; to him who abuses them, ill.\"\n     --Terence, Heart., i.  3, 21.]\n\nWhatever the benefits of fortune are, they yet require a palate to relish\nthem.  'Tis fruition, and not possession, that renders us happy:\n\n     [\"'Tis not lands, or a heap of brass and gold, that has removed\n     fevers from the ailing body of the owner, or cares from his mind.\n     The possessor must be healthy, if he thinks to make good use of his\n     realised wealth.  To him who is covetous or timorous his house and\n     estate are as a picture to a blind man, or a fomentation to a\n     gouty.\"--Horace, Ep., i. 2, 47.]\n\nHe is a sot, his taste is palled and flat; he no more enjoys what he has\nthan one that has a cold relishes the flavour of canary, or than a horse\nis sensible of his rich caparison.  Plato is in the right when he tells\nus that health, beauty, vigour, and riches, and all the other things\ncalled goods, are equally evil to the unjust as good to the just, and the\nevil on the contrary the same.  And therefore where the body and the mind\nare in disorder, to what use serve these external conveniences:\nconsidering that the least prick with a pin, or the least passion of the\nsoul, is sufficient to deprive one of the pleasure of being sole monarch\nof the world.  At the first twitch of the gout it signifies much to be\ncalled Sir and Your Majesty!\n\n               \"Totus et argento conflatus, totus et auro;\"\n\n     [\"Wholly made up of silver and gold.\"--Tibullus, i. 2, 70.]\n\ndoes he not forget his palaces and girandeurs?  If he be angry, can his\nbeing a prince keep him from looking red and looking pale, and grinding\nhis teeth like a madman?  Now, if he be a man of parts and of right\nnature, royalty adds very little to his happiness;\n\n          \"Si ventri bene, si lateri est, pedibusque tuffs, nil\n          Divitix poterunt regales addere majus;\"\n\n     [\"If it is well with thy belly, thy side and thy feet, regal wealth\n     will be able to add nothing.\"--Horace, Ep., i. 12, 5.]\n\nhe discerns 'tis nothing but counterfeit and gullery.  Nay, perhaps he\nwould be of King Seleucus' opinion, that he who knew the weight of a\nsceptre would not stoop to pick it up, if he saw it lying before him, so\ngreat and painful are the duties incumbent upon a good king.--[Plutarch,\nIf a Sage should Meddle with Affairs of Stale, c. 12.]--Assuredly it can\nbe no easy task to rule others, when we find it so hard a matter to\ngovern ourselves; and as to dominion, that seems so charming, the frailty\nof human judgment and the difficulty of choice in things that are new and\ndoubtful considered, I am very much of opinion that it is far more easy\nand pleasant to follow than to lead; and that it is a great settlement\nand satisfaction of mind to have only one path to walk in, and to have\nnone to answer for but a man's self;\n\n               \"Ut satius multo jam sit parere quietum,\n               Quam regere imperio res velle.\"\n\n     [\"'Tis much better quietly to obey than wish to rule.\"\n     --Lucretius, V, 1126.]\n\nTo which we may add that saying of Cyrus, that no man was fit to rule but\nhe who in his own worth was of greater value than those he was to govern;\nbut King Hiero in Xenophon says further, that in the fruition even of\npleasure itself they are in a worse condition than private men; forasmuch\nas the opportunities and facility they have of commanding those things at\nwill takes off from the delight that ordinary folks enjoy:\n\n          \"Pinguis amor, nimiumque patens, in taedia nobis\n          Vertitur, et, stomacho dulcis ut esca, nocet.\"\n\n     [\"Love in excess and too palpable turns to weariness, and, like\n     sweetmeats to the stomach, is injurious.\"--Ovid, Amoy., ii. 19, 25.]\n\nCan we think that the singing boys of the choir take any great delight in\nmusic?  the satiety rather renders it troublesome and tedious to them.\nFeasts, balls, masquerades and tiltings delight such as but rarely see,\nand desire to see, them; but having been frequently at such\nentertainments, the relish of them grows flat and insipid.  Nor do women\nso much delight those who make a common practice of the sport.  He who\nwill not give himself leisure to be thirsty can never find the true\npleasure of drinking.  Farces and tumbling tricks are pleasant to the\nspectators, but a wearisome toil to those by whom they are performed.\nAnd that this is so, we see that princes divert themselves sometimes in\ndisguising their quality, awhile to depose themselves, and to stoop to\nthe poor and ordinary way of living of the meanest of their people.\n\n              \"Plerumque gratae divitibus vices\n               Mundaeque parvo sub lare pauperum\n               Coenae, sine aulaeis et ostro,\n               Soliicitam explicuere frontem.\"\n\n     [\"The rich are often pleased with variety; and the plain supper in a\n     poor cottage, without tapestry and purple, has relaxed the anxious\n     brow.\"--Horace, Od., iii.  29, 13.]\n\nNothing is so distasteful and clogging as abundance.  What appetite would\nnot be baffled to see three hundred women at its mercy, as the grand\nsignor has in his seraglio?  And, of his ancestors what fruition or taste\nof sport did he reserve to himself, who never went hawking without seven\nthousand falconers?  And besides all this, I fancy that this lustre of\ngrandeur brings with it no little disturbance and uneasiness upon the\nenjoyment of the most tempting pleasures; the great are too conspicuous\nand lie too open to every one's view.  Neither do I know to what end a\nman should more require of them to conceal their errors, since what is\nonly reputed indiscretion in us, the people in them brand with the names\nof tyranny and contempt of the laws, and, besides their proclivity to\nvice, are apt to hold that it is a heightening of pleasure to them, to\ninsult over and to trample upon public observances.  Plato, indeed, in\nhis Goygias, defines a tyrant to be one who in a city has licence to do\nwhatever his own will leads him to do; and by reason of this impunity,\nthe display and publication of their vices do ofttimes more mischief than\nthe vice itself.  Every one fears to be pried into and overlooked; but\nprinces are so, even to their very gestures, looks and thoughts, the\npeople conceiving they have right and title to be judges of them besides\nthat the blemishes of the great naturally appear greater by reason of the\neminence and lustre of the place where they are seated, and that a mole\nor a wart appears greater in them than a wide gash in others.  And this\nis the reason why the poets feign the amours of Jupiter to be performed\nin the disguises of so many borrowed shapes, and that amongst the many\namorous practices they lay to his charge, there is only one, as I\nremember, where he appears in his own majesty and grandeur.\n\nBut let us return to Hiero, who further complains of the inconveniences\nhe found in his royalty, in that he could not look abroad and travel the\nworld at liberty, being as it were a prisoner in the bounds and limits of\nhis own dominion, and that in all his actions he was evermore surrounded\nwith an importunate crowd.  And in truth, to see our kings sit all alone\nat table, environed with so many people prating about them, and so many\nstrangers staring upon them, as they always are, I have often been moved\nrather to pity than to envy their condition.  King Alfonso was wont to\nsay, that in this asses were in a better condition than kings, their\nmasters permitting them to feed at their own ease and pleasure, a favour\nthat kings cannot obtain of their servants.  And it has never come into\nmy fancy that it could be of any great benefit to the life of a man of\nsense to have twenty people prating about him when he is at stool; or\nthat the services of a man of ten thousand livres a year, or that has\ntaken Casale or defended Siena, should be either more commodious or more\nacceptable to him, than those of a good groom of the chamber who\nunderstands his place.  The advantages of sovereignty are in a manner but\nimaginary: every degree of fortune has in it some image of principality.\nCaesar calls all the lords of France, having free franchise within their\nown demesnes, roitelets or petty kings; and in truth, the name of sire\nexcepted, they go pretty far towards kingship; for do but look into the\nprovinces remote from court, as Brittany for example; take notice of the\ntrain, the vassals, the officers, the employments, service, ceremony, and\nstate of a lord who lives retired from court in his own house, amongst\nhis own tenants and servants; and observe withal the flight of his\nimagination; there is nothing more royal; he hears talk of his master\nonce a year, as of a king of Persia, without taking any further\nrecognition of him, than by some remote kindred his secretary keeps in\nsome register.  And, to speak the truth, our laws are easy enough, so\neasy that a gentleman of France scarce feels the weight of sovereignty\npinch his shoulders above twice in his life.  Real and effectual\nsubjection only concerns such amongst us as voluntarily thrust their\nnecks under the yoke, and who design to get wealth and honours by such\nservices: for a man that loves his own fireside, and can govern his house\nwithout falling by the ears with his neighbours or engaging in suits of\nlaw, is as free as a Duke of Venice.\n\n               \"Paucos servitus, plures servitutem tenent.\"\n\n          [\"Servitude enchains few, but many enchain themselves to\n          servitude.\"--Seneca, Ep., 22.]\n\nBut that which Hiero is most concerned at is, that he finds himself\nstripped of all friendship, deprived of all mutual society, wherein the\ntrue and most perfect fruition of human life consists.  For what\ntestimony of affection and goodwill can I extract from him that owes me,\nwhether he will or no, all that he is able to do?  Can I form any\nassurance of his real respect to me, from his humble way of speaking and\nsubmissive behaviour, when these are ceremonies it is not in his choice\nto deny?  The honour we receive from those that fear us is not honour;\nthose respects are due to royalty and not to me:\n\n               \"Maximum hoc regni bonum est\n               Quod facta domini cogitur populus sui\n               Quam ferre, tam laudare.\"\n\n     [\"'Tis the greatest benefit of a kingdom that the people is forced\n     to commend, as well as to bear the acts of the ruler.\"\n     --Seneca, Thyestes, ii.  i, 30.]\n\nDo I not see that the wicked and the good king, he that is hated and he\nthat is beloved, have the one as much reverence paid him as the other?\nMy predecessor was, and my successor shall be, served with the same\nceremony and state.  If my subjects do me no harm, 'tis no evidence of\nany good affection; why should I look upon it as such, seeing it is not\nin their power to do it if they would?  No one follows me or obeys my\ncommands upon the account of any friendship, betwixt him and me; there\ncan be no contracting of friendship where there is so little relation and\ncorrespondence: my own height has put me out of the familiarity of and\nintelligence with men; there is too great disparity and disproportion\nbetwixt us.  They follow me either upon the account of decency and\ncustom; or rather my fortune, than me, to increase their own.  All they\nsay to me or do for me is but outward paint, appearance, their liberty\nbeing on all parts restrained by the great power and authority I have\nover them.  I see nothing about me but what is dissembled and disguised.\n\nThe Emperor Julian being one day applauded by his courtiers for his exact\njustice: \"I should be proud of these praises,\" said he, \"did they come\nfrom persons that durst condemn or disapprove the contrary, in case I\nshould do it.\"  All the real advantages of princes are common to them\nwith men of meaner condition ('tis for the gods to mount winged horses\nand feed upon ambrosia): they have no other sleep, nor other appetite\nthan we; the steel they arm themselves withal is of no better temper than\nthat we also use; their crowns neither defend them from the rain nor the\nsun.\n\nDiocletian, who wore a crown so fortunate and revered, resigned it to\nretire to the felicity of a private life; and some time after the\nnecessity of public affairs requiring that he should reassume his charge,\nhe made answer to those who came to court him to it: \"You would not\noffer,\" said he, \"to persuade me to this, had you seen the fine order of\nthe trees I have planted in my orchard, and the fair melons I have sown\nin my garden.\"\n\nIn Anacharsis' opinion, the happiest state of government would be where,\nall other things being equal, precedence should be measured out by the\nvirtues, and repulses by the vices of men.\n\nWhen King Pyrrhus prepared for his expedition into Italy, his wise\ncounsellor Cyneas, to make him sensible of the vanity of his ambition:\n\"Well, sir,\" said he, \"to what end do you make all this mighty\npreparation?\"--\"To make myself master of Italy,\" replied the king.\n\"And what after that  is done?\" said Cyneas.  \"I will pass over into Gaul\nand Spain,\" said the other.  \"And what then?\"--\"I will then go to subdue\nAfrica; and lastly, when I have brought the whole world to my subjection,\nI will sit down and rest content at my own ease.\"\n\n\"For God sake, sir,\" replied Cyneas, \"tell me what hinders that you may\nnot, if you please, be now in the condition you speak of?  Why do you not\nnow at this instant settle yourself in the state you seem to aim at, and\nspare all the labour and hazard you interpose?\"\n\n         \"Nimirum, quia non cognovit, qux esset habendi\n          Finis, et omnino quoad crescat vera voluptas.\"\n\n     [\"Forsooth because he does not know what should be the limit of\n     acquisition, and altogether how far real pleasure should increase.\"\n     --Lucretius, v. 1431]\n\nI will conclude with an old versicle, that I think very apt to the\npurpose:\n\n               \"Mores cuique sui fingunt fortunam.\"\n\n               [\"Every man frames his own fortune.\"\n               --Cornelius Nepos, Life of Atticus]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLIII\n\nOF SUMPTUARY LAWS\n\nThe way by which our laws attempt to regulate idle and vain expenses in\nmeat and clothes, seems to be quite contrary to the end designed.  The\ntrue way would be to beget in men a contempt of silks and gold, as vain,\nfrivolous, and useless; whereas we augment to them the honours, and\nenhance the value of such things, which, sure, is a very improper way to\ncreate a disgust.  For to enact that none but princes shall eat turbot,\nshall wear velvet or gold lace, and interdict these things to the people,\nwhat is it but to bring them into a greater esteem, and to set every one\nmore agog to eat and wear them?  Let kings leave off these ensigns of\ngrandeur; they have others enough besides; those excesses are more\nexcusable in any other than a prince.  We may learn by the example of\nseveral nations better ways of exterior distinction of quality (which,\ntruly, I conceive to be very requisite in a state) enough, without\nfostering to this purpose such corruption and manifest inconvenience.\n'Tis strange how suddenly and with how much ease custom in these\nindifferent things establishes itself and becomes authority.  We had\nscarce worn cloth a year, in compliance with the court, for the mourning\nof Henry II., but that silks were already grown into such contempt with\nevery one, that a man so clad was presently concluded a citizen: silks\nwere divided betwixt the physicians and surgeons, and though all other\npeople almost went in the same habit, there was, notwithstanding, in one\nthing or other, sufficient distinction of the several conditions of men.\nHow suddenly do greasy chamois and linen doublets become the fashion in\nour armies, whilst all neatness and richness of habit fall into contempt?\nLet kings but lead the dance and begin to leave off this expense, and in\na month the business will be done throughout the kingdom, without edict\nor ordinance; we shall all follow.  It should be rather proclaimed, on\nthe contrary, that no one should wear scarlet or goldsmiths' work but\ncourtesans and tumblers.\n\nZeleucus by the like invention reclaimed the corrupted manners of the\nLocrians.  His laws were, that no free woman should be allowed any more\nthan one maid to follow her, unless she was drunk: nor was to stir out of\nthe city by night, wear jewels of gold about her, or go in an embroidered\nrobe, unless she was a professed and public prostitute; that, bravos\nexcepted, no man was to wear a gold ring, nor be seen in one of those\neffeminate robes woven in the city of Miletus.  By which infamous\nexceptions he discreetly diverted his citizens from superfluities and\npernicious pleasures, and it was a project of great utility to attract\nthen by honour and ambition to their duty and obedience.\n\nOur kings can do what they please in such external reformations; their\nown inclination stands in this case for a law:\n\n          \"Quicquid principes faciunt, praecipere videntur.\"\n\n     [\"What princes themselves do, they seem to prescribe.\"\n     --Quintil., Declam., 3.]\n\nWhatever is done at court passes for a rule through the rest of France.\nLet the courtiers fall out with these abominable breeches, that discover\nso much of those parts should be concealed; these great bellied doublets,\nthat make us look like I know not what, and are so unfit to admit of\narms; these long effeminate locks of hair; this foolish custom of kissing\nwhat we present to our equals, and our hands in saluting them, a ceremony\nin former times only due to princes.  Let them not permit that a\ngentleman shall appear in place of respect without his sword, unbuttoned\nand untrussed, as though he came from the house of office; and that,\ncontrary to the custom of our forefathers and the particular privilege of\nthe nobles of this kingdom, we stand a long time bare to them in what\nplace soever, and the same to a hundred others, so many tiercelets and\nquartelets of kings we have got nowadays and other like vicious\ninnovations: they will see them all presently vanish and cried down.\nThese are, 'tis true, but superficial errors; but they are of ill augury,\nand enough to inform us that the whole fabric is crazy and tottering,\nwhen we see the roughcast of our walls to cleave and split.\n\nPlato in his Laws esteems nothing of more pestiferous consequence to his\ncity than to give young men the liberty of introducing any change in\ntheir habits, gestures, dances, songs, and exercises, from one form to\nanother; shifting from this to that, hunting after novelties, and\napplauding the inventors; by which means manners are corrupted and the\nold institutions come to be nauseated and despised.  In all things,\nsaving only in those that are evil, a change is to be feared; even the\nchange of seasons, winds, viands, and humours.  And no laws are in their\ntrue credit, but such to which God has given so long a continuance that\nno one knows their beginning, or that there ever was any other.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLIV\n\nOF SLEEP\n\nReason directs that we should always go the same way, but not always at\nthe same pace.  And, consequently, though a wise man ought not so much to\ngive the reins to human passions as to let him deviate from the right\npath, he may, notwithstanding, without prejudice to his duty, leave it to\nthem to hasten or to slacken his speed, and not fix himself like a\nmotionless and insensible Colossus.  Could virtue itself put on flesh and\nblood, I believe the pulse would beat faster going on to assault than in\ngoing to dinner: that is to say, there is a necessity she should heat and\nbe moved upon this account.  I have taken notice, as of an extraordinary\nthing, of some great men, who in the highest enterprises and most\nimportant affairs have kept themselves in so settled and serene a calm,\nas not at all to break their sleep.  Alexander the Great, on the day\nassigned for that furious battle betwixt him and Darius, slept so\nprofoundly and so long in the morning, that Parmenio was forced to enter\nhis chamber, and coming to his bedside, to call him several times by his\nname, the time to go to fight compelling him so to do.  The Emperor Otho,\nhaving put on a resolution to kill himself that night, after having\nsettled his domestic affairs, divided his money amongst his servants, and\nset a good edge upon a sword he had made choice of for the purpose, and\nnow staying only to be satisfied whether all his friends had retired in\nsafety, he fell into so sound a sleep that the gentlemen of his chamber\nheard him snore.  The death of this emperor has in it circumstances\nparalleling that of the great Cato, and particularly this just related\nfor Cato being ready to despatch himself, whilst he only stayed his hand\nin expectation of the return of a messenger he had sent to bring him news\nwhether the senators he had sent away were put out from the Port of\nUtica, he fell into so sound a sleep, that they heard him snore in the\nnext room; and the man, whom he had sent to the port, having awakened him\nto let him know that the tempestuous weather had hindered the senators\nfrom putting to sea, he despatched away another messenger, and composing\nagain himself in the bed, settled to sleep, and slept till by the return\nof the last messenger he had certain intelligence they were gone.  We may\nhere further compare him with Alexander in the great and dangerous storm\nthat threatened him by the sedition of the tribune Metellus, who,\nattempting to publish a decree for the calling in of Pompey with his army\ninto the city at the time of Catiline's conspiracy, was only and that\nstoutly opposed by Cato, so that very sharp language and bitter menaces\npassed betwixt them in the senate about that affair; but it was the next\nday, in the forenoon, that the controversy was to be decided, where\nMetellus, besides the favour of the people and of Caesar--at that time of\nPompey's faction--was to appear accompanied with a rabble of slaves and\ngladiators; and Cato only fortified with his own courage and constancy;\nso that his relations, domestics, and many virtuous people of his friends\nwere in great apprehensions for him; and to that degree, that some there\nwere who passed over the whole night without sleep, eating, or drinking,\nfor the danger they saw him running into; his wife and sisters did\nnothing but weep and torment themselves in his house; whereas, he, on the\ncontrary, comforted every one, and after having supped after his usual\nmanner, went to bed, and slept profoundly till morning, when one of his\nfellow-tribunes roused him to go to the encounter.  The knowledge we have\nof the greatness of this man's courage by the rest of his life, may\nwarrant us certainly to judge that his indifference proceeded from a soul\nso much elevated above such accidents, that he disdained to let it take\nany more hold of his fancy than any ordinary incident.\n\nIn the naval engagement that Augustus won of Sextus Pompeius in Sicily,\njust as they were to begin the fight, he was so fast asleep that his\nfriends were compelled to wake him to give the signal of battle: and this\nwas it that gave Mark Antony afterwards occasion to reproach him that he\nhad not the courage so much as with open eyes to behold the order of his\nown squadrons, and not to have dared to present himself before the\nsoldiers, till first Agrippa had brought him news of the victory\nobtained.  But as to the young Marius, who did much worse (for the day of\nhis last battle against Sylla, after he had marshalled his army and given\nthe word and signal of battle, he laid him down under the shade of a tree\nto repose himself, and fell so fast asleep that the rout and flight of\nhis men could hardly waken him, he having seen nothing of the fight), he\nis said to have been at that time so extremely spent and worn out with\nlabour and want of sleep, that nature could hold out no longer.  Now,\nupon what has been said, the physicians may determine whether sleep be so\nnecessary that our lives depend upon it: for we read that King Perseus of\nMacedon, being prisoner at Rome, was killed by being kept from sleep; but\nPliny instances such as have lived long without sleep.  Herodotus speaks\nof nations where the men sleep and wake by half-years, and they who write\nthe life of the sage Epimenides affirm that he slept seven-and-fifty\nyears together.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLV\n\nOF THE BATTLE OF DREUX\n\n     [December 19, 1562, in which the Catholics, under the command of the\n     Duc de Guise and the Constable de Montmorenci, defeated the\n     Protestants, commanded by the Prince de Conde.  See Sismondi, Hist.\n     des Francais, vol.  xviii., p. 354.]\n\nOur battle of Dreux is remarkable for several extraordinary incidents;\nbut such as have no great kindness for M. de Guise, nor much favour his\nreputation, are willing to have him thought to blame, and that his making\na halt and delaying time with the forces he commanded, whilst the\nConstable, who was general of the army, was racked through and through\nwith the enemy's artillery, his battalion routed, and himself taken\nprisoner, is not to be excused; and that he had much better have run the\nhazard of charging the enemy in flank, than staying for the advantage of\nfalling in upon the rear, to suffer so great and so important a loss.\nBut, besides what the event demonstrated, he who will consider it without\npassion or prejudice will easily be induced to confess that the aim and\ndesign, not of a captain only, but of every private soldier, ought to\nregard the victory in general, and that no particular occurrences, how\nnearly soever they may concern his own interest, should divert him from\nthat pursuit.  Philopoemen,  in an encounter with Machanidas, having sent\nbefore a good strong party of his archers and slingers to begin the\nskirmish, and these being routed and hotly pursued by the enemy, who,\npushing on the fortune of their arms, and in that pursuit passing by the\nbattalion where Philopoemen was, though his soldiers were impatient to\nfall on, he did not think fit to stir from his post nor to present\nhimself to the enemy to relieve his men, but having suffered these to be\nchased and cut in pieces before his face, charged in upon the enemy's\nfoot when he saw them left unprotected by the horse, and notwithstanding\nthat they were Lacedaemonians, yet taking them in the nick, when thinking\nthemselves secure of the victory, they began to disorder their ranks; he\ndid this business with great facility, and then put himself in pursuit of\nMachanidas.  Which case is very like that of Monsieur de Guise.\n\nIn that bloody battle betwixt Agesilaus and the Boeotians, which\nXenophon, who was present at it, reports to be the sharpest that he had\never seen, Agesilaus waived the advantage that fortune presented him, to\nlet the Boeotian battalions pass by and then to charge them in the rear,\nhow certain soever he might make himself of the victory, judging it would\nrather be an effect of conduct than valour, to proceed that way; and\ntherefore, to show his prowess, rather chose with a marvellous ardour of\ncourage to charge them in the front; but he was well beaten and well\nwounded for his pains, and constrained at last to disengage himself, and\nto take the course he had at first neglected; opening his battalion to\ngive way to this torrent of Boeotians, and they being passed by, taking\nnotice that they marched in disorder, like men who thought themselves out\nof danger, he pursued and charged them in flank; yet could not so prevail\nas to bring it to so general a rout but that they leisurely retreated,\nstill facing about upon him till they had retired to safety.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLVI\n\nOF NAMES\n\nWhat variety of herbs soever are shufed together in the dish, yet the\nwhole mass is swallowed up under one name of a sallet.  In like manner,\nunder the consideration of names, I will make a hodge-podge of divers\narticles.\n\nEvery nation has certain names, that, I know not why, are taken in no\ngood sense, as with us, John, William, Benedict.  In the genealogy of\nprinces, also, there seem to be certain names fatally affected, as the\nPtolemies of Egypt, the Henries in England, the Charleses in France, the\nBaldwins in Flanders, and the Williams of our ancient Aquitaine, from\nwhence, 'tis said, the name of Guyenne has its derivation; which would\nseem far fetched were there not as crude derivations in Plato himself.\n\nItem, 'tis a frivolous thing in itself, but nevertheless worthy to be\nrecorded for the strangeness of it, that is written by an eyewitness,\nthat Henry, Duke of Normandy, son of Henry II., king of England, making a\ngreat feast in France, the concourse of nobility and gentry was so great,\nthat being, for sport's sake, divided into troops, according to their\nnames, in the first troop, which consisted of Williams, there were found\nan hundred and ten knights sitting at the table of that name, without\nreckoning the ordinary gentlemen and servants.\n\nIt is as pleasant to distinguish the tables by the names of the guests as\nit was in the Emperor Geta to distinguish the several courses of his meat\nby the first letters of the meats themselves; so that those that began\nwith B were served up together, as brawn, beef, bream, bustards,\nbecca-ficos; and so of the others.  Item, there is a saying that it is a\ngood thing to have a good name, that is to say, credit and a good repute;\nbut besides this, it is really convenient to have a well-sounding name,\nsuch as is easy of pronunciation and easy to be remembered, by reason\nthat kings and other great persons do by that means the more easily know\nand the more hardly forget us; and indeed of our own servants we more\nfrequently call and employ those whose names are most ready upon the\ntongue.  I myself have seen Henry II., when he could not for his heart\nhit of a gentleman's name of our country of Gascony, and moreover was\nfain to call one of the queen's maids of honour by the general name of\nher race, her own family name being so difficult to pronounce or\nremember; and Socrates thinks it worthy a father's care to give fine\nnames to his children.\n\nItem,'tis said that the foundation of Notre Dame la Grande at Poitiers\ntook its original from hence that a debauched young fellow formerly\nliving in that place, having got to him a wench, and, at her first coming\nin, asking her name, and being answered that it was Mary, he felt himself\nso suddenly pierced through with the awe of religion and the reverence to\nthat sacred name of the Blessed Virgin, that he not only immediately sent\nthe girl away, but became a reformed man and so continued the remainder\nof his life; and that, in consideration of this miracle, there was\nerected upon the place where this young man's house stood, first a chapel\ndedicated to our Lady and afterwards the church that we now see standing\nthere.  This vocal and auricular reproof wrought upon the conscience, and\nthat right into the soul; this that follows, insinuated itself merely by\nthe senses.  Pythagoras being in company with some wild young fellows,\nand perceiving that, heated with the feast, they comploted to go violate\nan honest house, commanded the singing wench to alter her wanton airs;\nand by a solemn, grave, and spondaic music, gently enchanted and laid\nasleep their ardour.\n\nItem, will not posterity say that our modern reformation has been\nwonderfully delicate and exact, in having not only combated errors and\nvices, and filled the world with devotion, humility, obedience, peace,\nand all sorts of virtue; but in having proceeded so far as to quarrel\nwith our ancient baptismal names of Charles, Louis, Francis, to fill the\nworld with Methuselahs, Ezekiels, and Malachis, names of a more spiritual\nsound?  A gentleman, a neighbour of mine, a great admirer of antiquity,\nand who was always extolling the excellences of former times in\ncomparison with this present age of ours, did not, amongst the rest,\nforget to dwell upon the lofty and magnificent sound of the gentleman's\nnames of those days, Don Grumedan, Quedregan, Agesilan, which, but to\nhear named he conceived to denote other kind of men than Pierre, Guillot,\nand Michel.\n\nItem, I am mightily pleased with Jacques Amyot for leaving, throughout a\nwhole French oration, the Latin names entire, without varying and\ngarbling them to give them a French cadence.  It seemed a little harsh\nand rough at first; but already custom, by the authority of his Plutarch,\nhas overcome that novelty.  I have often wished that such as write\nhistories in Latin would leave our names as they find them and as they\nare; for in making Vaudemont into Vallemontanus, and metamorphosing names\nto make them suit better with the Greek or Latin, we know not where we\nare, and with the persons of the men lose the benefit of the story.\n\nTo conclude, 'tis a scurvy custom and of very ill consequence that we\nhave in our kingdom of France to call every one by the name of his manor\nor seigneury; 'tis the thing in the world that the most prejudices and\nconfounds families and descents.  A younger brother of a good family,\nhaving a manor left him by his father, by the name of which he has been\nknown and honoured, cannot handsomely leave it; ten years after his\ndecease it falls into the hand of a stranger, who does the same: do but\njudge whereabouts we shall be concerning the knowledge of these men.  We\nneed look no further for examples than our own royal family, where every\npartition creates a new surname, whilst, in the meantime, the original of\nthe family is totally lost.  There is so great liberty taken in these\nmutations, that I have not in my time seen any one advanced by fortune to\nany extraordinary condition who has not presently had genealogical titles\nadded to him, new and unknown to his father, and who has not been\ninoculated into some illustrious stem by good luck; and the obscurest\nfamilies are the most apt for falsification.  How many gentlemen have we\nin France who by their own account are of royal extraction? more, I\nthink, than who will confess they are not.  Was it not a pleasant passage\nof a friend of mine?  There were, several gentlemen assembled together\nabout the dispute of one seigneur with another; which other had, in\ntruth, some preeminence of titles and alliances above the ordinary\ngentry.  Upon the debate of this prerogative, every one, to make himself\nequal to him, alleged, this one extraction, that another; this, the near\nresemblance of name, that, of arms; another, an old worm-eaten patent;\nthe very least of them was great-grandchild to some foreign king.  When\nthey came to sit down, to dinner, my friend, instead of taking his place\namongst them, retiring with most profound conges, entreated the company\nto excuse him for having hitherto lived with them at the saucy rate of a\ncompanion; but being now better informed of their quality, he would begin\nto pay them the respect due to their birth and grandeur, and that it\nwould ill become him to sit down among so many princes--ending this farce\nwith a thousand reproaches: \"Let us, in God's name, satisfy ourselves\nwith what our fathers were contented with, with what we are.  We are\ngreat enough, if we rightly understand how to maintain it.  Let us not\ndisown the fortune and condition of our ancestors, and let us lay aside\nthese ridiculous pretences, that can never be wanting to any one that has\nthe impudence to allege them.\"\n\nArms have no more security than surnames.  I bear azure powdered with\ntrefoils or, with a lion's paw of the same armed gules in fesse.  What\nprivilege has this to continue particularly in my house?  A son-in-law\nwill transport it into another family, or some paltry purchaser will make\nthem his first arms.  There is nothing wherein there is more change and\nconfusion.\n\nBut this consideration leads me, perforce, into another subject.  Let us\npry a little narrowly into, and, in God's name, examine upon what\nfoundation we erect this glory and reputation for which the world is\nturned topsy-turvy: wherein do we place this renown that we hunt after\nwith so much pains?  It is, in the end, Peter or William that carries it,\ntakes it into his possession, and whom it only concerns.  O what a\nvaliant faculty is hope, that in a mortal subject, and in a moment, makes\nnothing of usurping infinity, immensity, eternity, and of supplying its\nmaster's indigence, at its pleasure, with all things he can imagine or\ndesire!  Nature has given us this passion for a pretty toy to play\nwithal.  And this Peter or William, what is it but a sound, when all is\ndone? or three or four dashes with a pen, so easy to be varied that I\nwould fain know to whom is to be attributed the glory of so many\nvictories, to Guesquin, to Glesquin, or to Gueaquin?  and yet there would\nbe something of greater moment in the case than in Lucian, that Sigma\nshould serve Tau with a process; for\n\n                         \"Non levia aut ludicra petuntur\n                    Praemia;\"\n\n     [\"They aim at no slight or jocular rewards.\"--AEneid, xii. 764.]\n\nthe chase is there in very good earnest: the question is, which of these\nletters is to be rewarded for so many sieges, battles, wounds,\nimprisonments, and services done to the crown of France by this famous\nconstable?  Nicholas Denisot--[Painter and poet, born at Le Mans,1515.]--\nnever concerned himself further than the letters of his name, of which he\nhas altered the whole contexture to build up by anagram the Count\nd'Alsinois, whom he has handsomely endowed with the glory of his poetry\nand painting.  The historian Suetonius was satisfied with only the\nmeaning of his name, which made him cashier his father's surname, Lenis,\nto leave Tranquillus successor to the reputation of his writings.  Who\nwould believe that Captain Bayard should have no honour but what he\nderives from the deeds of Peter Terrail; and that Antonio Iscalin should\nsuffer himself to his face to be robbed of the honour of so many\nnavigations and commands at sea and land by Captain Paulin and the Baron\nde la Garde?  Secondly, these are dashes of the pen common to a thousand\npeople.  How many are there, in every family, of the same name and\nsurname? and how many more in several families, ages, and countries?\nHistory tells us of three of the name of Socrates, of five Platos, of\neight Aristotles, of seven Xenophons, of twenty Demetrii, and of twenty\nTheodores; and how many more she was not acquainted with we may imagine.\nWho hinders my groom from calling himself Pompey the Great?  But after\nall, what virtue, what authority, or what secret springs are there that\nfix upon my deceased groom, or the other Pompey, who had his head cut off\nin Egypt, this glorious renown, and these so much honoured flourishes of\nthe pen, so as to be of any advantage to them?\n\n          \"Id cinerem et manes credis curare sepultos?\"\n\n     [\"Do you believe the dead regard such things?\"--AEneid, iv. 34.]\n\nWhat sense have the two companions in greatest esteem amongst me,\nEpaminondas, of this fine verse that has been so many ages current in his\npraise,\n\n          \"Consiliis nostris laus est attrita Laconum;\"\n\n     [\"The glory of the Spartans is extinguished by my plans.\n     --\"Cicero, Tusc. Quaes., v. 17.]\n\nor Africanus, of this other,\n\n          \"A sole exoriente supra Maeotis Paludes\n          Nemo est qui factis me aequiparare queat.\"\n\n     [\"From where the sun rises over the Palus Maeotis, to where it sets,\n     there is no one whose acts can compare with mine\"--Idem, ibid.]\n\nSurvivors indeed tickle themselves with these fine phrases, and by them\nincited to jealousy and desire, inconsiderately and according to their\nown fancy, attribute to the dead this their own feeling, vainly\nflattering themselves that they shall one day in turn be capable of the\nsame character.  However:\n\n                              \"Ad haec se\n          Romanus Graiusque, et Barbaras induperator\n          Erexit; caucus discriminis atque laboris\n          Inde habuit: tanto major famae sitis est, quam\n          Virtutis.\"\n\n     [\"For these the Roman, the Greek, and the Barbarian commander hath\n     aroused himself; he has incurred thence causes of danger and toil:\n     so much greater is the thirst for fame than for virtue.\"\n     --Juvenal, x. 137.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLVII\n\nOF THE UNCERTAINTY OF OUR JUDGMENT\n\nWell says this verse:\n\n     [\"There is everywhere much liberty of speech.\"--Iliad, xx.  249.]\n\nFor example:\n\n     [\"Hannibal conquered, but knew not how to make the best use of his\n     victorious venture.\"--Petrarch, Son., 83.]\n\nSuch as would improve this argument, and condemn the oversight of our\nleaders in not pushing home the victory at Moncontour, or accuse the King\nof Spain of not knowing how to make the best use of the advantage he had\nagainst us at St. Quentin, may conclude these oversights to proceed from\na soul already drunk with success, or from a spirit which, being full and\novergorged with this beginning of good fortune, had lost the appetite of\nadding to it, already having enough to do to digest what it had taken in:\nhe has his arms full, and can embrace no more: unworthy of the benefit\nfortune has conferred upon him and the advantage she had put into his\nhands: for what utility does he reap from it, if, notwithstanding, he\ngive his enemy respite to rally and make head against him?  What hope is\nthere that he will dare at another time to attack an enemy reunited and\nrecomposed, and armed anew with anger and revenge, who did not dare to\npursue them when routed and unmanned by fear?\n\n          \"Dum fortuna calet, dum conficit omnia terror.\"\n\n     [\"Whilst fortune is fresh, and terror finishes all.\"\n     --Lucan, vii. 734.]\n\nBut withal, what better opportunity can he expect than that he has lost?\n'Tis not here, as in fencing, where the most hits gain the prize; for so\nlong as the enemy is on foot, the game is new to begin, and that is not\nto be called a victory that puts not an end to the war.  In the encounter\nwhere Caesar had the worst, near the city of Oricum, he reproached\nPompey's soldiers that he had been lost had their general known how to\novercome; and afterwards clawed him in a very different fashion when it\ncame to his turn.\n\nBut why may not a man also argue, on the contrary, that it is the effect\nof a precipitous and insatiate spirit not to know how to bound and\nrestrain its coveting; that it is to abuse the favours of God to exceed\nthe measure He has prescribed them: and that again to throw a man's self\ninto danger after a victory obtained is again to expose himself to the\nmercy of fortune: that it is one of the greatest discretions in the rule\nof war not to drive an enemy to despair?  Sylla and Marius in the social\nwar, having defeated the Marsians, seeing yet a body of reserve that,\nprompted by despair, was coming on like enraged brutes to dash in upon\nthem, thought it not convenient to stand their charge.  Had not Monsieur\nde Foix's ardour transported him so furiously to pursue the remains of\nthe victory of Ravenna, he had not obscured it by his own death.  And yet\nthe recent memory of his example served to preserve Monsieur d'Anguien\nfrom the same misfortune at the battle of Serisoles.  'Tis dangerous to\nattack a man you have deprived of all means to escape but by his arms,\nfor necessity teaches violent resolutions:\n\n          \"Gravissimi sunt morsus irritatae necessitatis.\"\n\n     [\"Irritated necessity bites deepest.\"--Portius Latro., Declam.]\n\n          \"Vincitur haud gratis, jugulo qui provocat hostem.\"\n\n     [\"He is not readily beaten who provokes the enemy by shewing\n     his throat.\"--or: \"He who presents himself to his foe, sells his\n     life dear.\"--Lucan, iv. 275.]\n\nThis was it that made Pharax withhold the King of Lacedaemon, who had won\na battle against the Mantineans, from going to charge a thousand Argians,\nwho had escaped in an entire body from the defeat, but rather let them\nsteal off at liberty that he might not encounter valour whetted and\nenraged by mischance.  Clodomir, king of Aquitaine, after his victory\npursuing Gondemar, king of Burgundy, beaten and making off as fast as he\ncould for safety, compelled him to face about and make head, wherein his\nobstinacy deprived him of the fruit of his conquest, for he there lost\nhis life.\n\nIn like manner, if a man were to choose whether he would have his\nsoldiers richly and sumptuously accoutred or armed only for the necessity\nof the matter in hand, this argument would step in to favour the first,\nof which opinion was Sertorius, Philopcemen, Brutus, Caesar, and others,\nthat it is to a soldier an enflaming of courage and a spur himself in\nbrave attire; and withal a motive to be more obstinate in fight, having\nhis arms, which are in a manner his estate and whole inheritance to\ndefend; which is the reason, says Xenophon, why those of Asia carried\ntheir wives and concubines, with their choicest jewels and greatest\nwealth, along with them to the wars.  But then these arguments would be\nas ready to stand up for the other side; that a general ought rather to\nlessen in his men their solicitude of preserving themselves than to\nincrease it; that by such means they will be in a double fear of\nhazarding their persons, as it will be a double temptation to the enemy\nto fight with greater resolution where so great booty and so rich spoils\nare to be obtained; and this very thing has been observed in former\ntimes, notably to encourage the Romans against the Samnites.  Antiochus,\nshewing Hannibal the army he had raised, wonderfully splendid and rich in\nall sorts of equipage, asked him if the Romans would be satisfied with\nthat army?  \"Satisfied,\" replied the other, \"yes, doubtless, were their\navarice never so great.\"  Lycurgus not only forbad his soldiers all\nmanner of bravery in their equipage, but, moreover, to strip their\nconquered enemies, because he would, as he said, that poverty and\nfrugality should shine with the rest of the battle.\n\nAt sieges and elsewhere, where occasion draws us near to the enemy, we\nwillingly suffer our men to brave, rate, and affront him with all sorts\nof injurious language; and not without some colour of reason: for it is\nof no little consequence to take from them all hopes of mercy and\ncomposition, by representing to them that there is no fair quarter to be\nexpected from an enemy they have incensed to that degree, nor other\nremedy remaining but in victory.  And yet Vitellius found himself\ndeceived in this way of proceeding; for having to do with Otho, weaker in\nthe valour of his soldiers, long unaccustomed to war and effeminated with\nthe delights of the city, he so nettled them at last with injurious\nlanguage, reproaching them with cowardice and regret for the mistresses\nand entertainments they had left behind at Rome, that by this means he\ninspired them with such resolution as no exhortation had had the power to\nhave done, and himself made them fall upon him, with whom their own\ncaptains before could by no means prevail.  And, indeed, when they are\ninjuries that touch to the quick, it may very well fall out that he who\nwent but unwillingly to work in the behalf of his prince will fall to't\nwith another sort of mettle when the quarrel is his own.\n\nConsidering of how great importance is the preservation of the general of\nan army, and that the universal aim of an enemy is levelled directly at\nthe head, upon which all the others depend, the course seems to admit of\nno dispute, which we know has been taken by so many great captains, of\nchanging their habit and disguising their persons upon the point of going\nto engage.  Nevertheless, the inconvenience a man by so doing runs into\nis not less than that he thinks to avoid; for the captain, by this means\nbeing concealed from the knowledge of his own men, the courage they\nshould derive from his presence and example happens by degrees to cool\nand to decay; and not seeing the wonted marks and ensigns of their\nleader, they presently conclude him either dead, or that, despairing of\nthe business, he is gone to shift for himself.  And experience shows us\nthat both these ways have been successful and otherwise.  What befell\nPyrrhus in the battle he fought against the Consul Levinus in Italy will\nserve us to both purposes; for though by shrouding his person under the\narmour of Megacles and making him wear his own, he undoubtedly preserved\nhis own life, yet, by that very means, he was withal very near running\ninto the other mischief of losing the battle.  Alexander, Caesar, and\nLucullus loved to make themselves known in a battle by rich accoutrements\nand armour of a particular lustre and colour: Agis, Agesilaus, and that\ngreat Gilippus, on the contrary, used to fight obscurely armed, and\nwithout any imperial attendance or distinction.\n\nAmongst other oversights Pompey is charged withal at the battle of\nPharsalia, he is condemned for making his army stand still to receive the\nenemy's charge; by \"reason that\" (I shall here steal Plutarch's own\nwords, which are better than mine) \"he by so doing deprived himself of\nthe violent impression the motion of running adds to the first shock of\narms, and hindered that clashing of the combatants against one another\nwhich is wont to give them greater impetuosity and fury; especially when\nthey come to rush in with their utmost vigour, their courages increasing\nby the shouts and the career; 'tis to render the soldiers' ardour, as a\nman may say, more reserved and cold.\"  This is what he says.  But if\nCaesar had come by the worse, why might it not as well have been urged by\nanother, that, on the contrary, the strongest and most steady posture of\nfighting is that wherein a man stands planted firm without motion; and\nthat they who are steady upon the march, closing up, and reserving their\nforce within themselves for the push of the business, have a great\nadvantage against those who are disordered, and who have already spent\nhalf their breath in running on precipitately to the charge?  Besides\nthat an army is a body made up of so many individual members, it is\nimpossible for it to move in this fury with so exact a motion as not to\nbreak the order of battle, and that the best of them are not engaged\nbefore their fellows can come on to help them.  In that unnatural battle\nbetwixt the two Persian brothers, the Lacedaemonian Clearchus, who\ncommanded the Greeks of Cyrus' party, led them on softly and without\nprecipitation to the charge; but, coming within fifty paces, hurried them\non full speed, hoping in so short a career both to keep their order and\nto husband their breath, and at the same time to give the advantage of\nimpetuosity and impression both to their persons and their missile arms.\nOthers have regulated this question as to their armies thus if your enemy\ncome full drive upon you, stand firm to receive him; if he stand to\nreceive you, run full drive upon him.\n\nIn the expedition of the Emperor Charles V. into Provence, King Francis\nwas put to choose either to go meet him in Italy or to await him in his\nown dominions; wherein, though he very well considered of how great\nadvantage it was to preserve his own territory entire and clear from the\ntroubles of war, to the end that, being unexhausted of its stores, it\nmight continually supply men and money at need; that the necessity of war\nrequires at every turn to spoil and lay waste the country before us,\nwhich cannot very well be done upon one's own; to which may be added,\nthat the country people do not so easily digest such a havoc by those of\ntheir own party as from an enemy, so that seditions and commotions might\nby such means be kindled amongst us; that the licence of pillage and\nplunder (which are not to be tolerated at home) is a great ease and\nrefreshment against the fatigues and sufferings of war; and that he who\nhas no other prospect of gain than his bare pay will hardly be kept from\nrunning home, being but two steps from his wife and his own house; that\nhe who lays the cloth is ever at the charge of the feast; that there is\nmore alacrity in assaulting than defending; and that the shock of a\nbattle's loss in our own bowels is so violent as to endanger the\ndisjointing of the whole body, there being no passion so contagious as\nthat of fear, that is so easily believed, or that so suddenly diffuses\nitself; and that the cities that should hear the rattle of this tempest\nat their gates, that should take in their captains and soldiers yet\ntrembling and out of breath, would be in danger in this heat and hurry to\nprecipitate themselves upon some untoward resolution: notwithstanding all\nthis, so it was that he chose to recall the forces he had beyond the\nmountains and to suffer the enemy to come to him.  For he might, on the\nother hand, imagine that, being at home and amongst his friends, he could\nnot fail of plenty of all manner of conveniences; the rivers and passes\nhe had at his devotion would bring him in both provisions and money in\nall security, and without the trouble of convoy; that he should find his\nsubjects by so much the more affectionate to him, by how much their\ndanger was more near and pressing; that having so many cities and\nbarriers to secure him, it would be in his power to give the law of\nbattle at his own opportunity and advantage; and that, if it pleased him\nto delay the time, under cover and at his ease he might see his enemy\nfounder and defeat himself with the difficulties he was certain to\nencounter, being engaged in a hostile country, where before, behind, and\non every side war would be made upon him; no means to refresh himself or\nto enlarge his quarters, should diseases infest them, or to lodge his\nwounded men in safety; no money, no victuals, but at the point of the\nlance; no leisure to repose and take breath; no knowledge of the ways or\ncountry to secure him from ambushes and surprises; and in case of losing\na battle, no possible means of saving the remains.  Neither is there want\nof example in both these cases.\n\nScipio thought it much better to go and attack his enemy's territories in\nAfrica than to stay at home to defend his own and to fight him in Italy,\nand it succeeded well with him.  But, on the contrary, Hannibal in the\nsame war ruined himself by abandoning the conquest of a foreign country\nto go and defend his own.  The Athenians having left the enemy in their\nown dominions to go over into Sicily, were not favoured by fortune in\ntheir design; but Agathocles, king of Syracuse, found her favourable to\nhim when he went over into Africa and left the war at home.\n\nBy which examples we are wont to conclude, and with some reason, that\nevents, especially in war, for the most part depend upon fortune, who\nwill not be governed by nor submit unto human reasons and prudence,\naccording to the poet:\n\n         \"Et male consultis pretium est: prudentia fallit\n          Nec fortune probat causas, sequiturque merentes,\n          Sed vaga per cunctos nullo discrimine fertur.\n          Scilicet est aliud, quod nos cogatque regatque\n          Majus, et in proprias ducat mortalia leges.\"\n\n     [\"And there is value in ill counsel: prudence deceives: nor does\n     fortune inquire into causes, nor aid the most deserving, but turns\n     hither and thither without discrimination.  Indeed there is a\n     greater power which directs and rules us, and brings mortal affairs\n     under its own laws.\"--Manilius, iv. 95.]\n\nBut, to take the thing right, it should seem that our counsels and\ndeliberations depend as much upon fortune as anything else we do, and\nthat she engages also our arguments in her uncertainty and confusion.\n\"We argue rashly and adventurously,\" says Timaeus in Plato, \"by reason\nthat, as well as ourselves, our discourses have great participation in\nthe temerity of chance.\"\n\n\n\n\n     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:\n\n     \"Art thou not ashamed,\" said he to him, \"to sing so well?\"\n     As great a benefit to be without (children)\n     Away with that eloquence that enchants us with itself\n     Because the people know so well how to obey\n     Blemishes of the great naturally appear greater\n     Change is to be feared\n     Cicero: on fame\n     Confidence in another man's virtue\n     Dangerous  man you have deprived of all means to escape\n     Depend as much upon fortune as anything else we do\n     Fame: an echo, a dream, nay, the shadow of a dream\n     Far more easy and pleasant to follow than to lead\n     He who lays the cloth is ever at the charge of the feast\n     I honour those most to whom I show the least honour\n     In war not to drive an enemy to despair\n     My words does but injure the love I have conceived within.\n     Neither the courage to die nor the heart to live\n     Never spoke of my money, but falsely, as others do\n     No great choice betwixt not knowing to speak anything but ill\n     No man continues ill long but by his own fault\n     No necessity upon a man to live in necessity\n     No passion so contagious as that of fear\n     Not a victory that puts not an end to the war\n     Not want, but rather abundance, that creates avarice\n     Only secure harbour from the storms and tempests of life\n     Opinions they have of things and not by the things themselves\n     People conceiving they have right and title to be judges\n     Pyrrho's hog\n     Repute for value in them, not what they bring to us\n     Satisfaction of mind to have only one path to walk in\n     That which cowardice itself has chosen for its refuge\n     The honour we receive from those that fear us is not honour\n     The pedestal is no part of the statue\n     There is more trouble in keeping money than in getting it.\n     There is nothing I hate so much as driving a bargain\n     Thou wilt not feel it long if thou feelest it too much\n     Tis the sharpnss of our mind that gives the edge to our pains\n     Titles being so dearly bought\n     Twenty people prating about him when he is at stool\n     Valour whetted and enraged by mischance\n     What can they not do; what do they fear to do (for beauty)","title":"Essays of Michel de Montaigne \u2014 Volume 07","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":24175}