The obstinacy of my stone to all remedies especially those in my bladder, has sometimes thrown me into so long suppressions of urine for three or four days together, and so near death, that it had been folly to have hoped to evade it, and it was much rather to have been desired, considering the miseries I endure in those cruel fits. Oh, that good emperor, who caused criminals to be tied that they might die for want of urination, was a great master in the hangman's' science! Finding myself in this condition, I considered by how many light causes and objects imagination nourished in me the regret of life; of what atoms the weight and difficulty of this dislodging was composed in my soul; to how many idle and frivolous thoughts we give way in so great an affair; a dog, a horse, a book, a glass, and what not, were considered in my loss; to others their ambitious hopes, their money, their knowledge, not less foolish considerations in my opinion than mine. I look upon death carelessly when I look upon it universally as the end of life. I insult over it in gross, but in detail it domineers over me: the tears of a footman, the disposing of my clothes, the touch of a friendly hand, a common consolation, discourages and softens me. So do the complaints in tragedies agitate our souls with grief; and the regrets of Dido and Ariadne, impassionate even those who believe them not in Virgil and Catullus. 'Tis a symptom of an obstinate and obdurate nature to be sensible of no emotion, as 'tis reported for a miracle of Polemon; but then he did not so much as alter his countenance at the biting of a mad dog that tore away the calf of his leg; and no wisdom proceeds so far as to conceive so vivid and entire a cause of sorrow, by judgment that it does not suffer increase by its presence, when the eyes and ears have their share; parts that are not to be moved but by vain accidents.
Is it reason that even the arts themselves should make an advantage of our natural stupidity and weakness? An orator, says rhetoric in the farce of his pleading, shall be moved with the sound of his own voice and feigned emotions, and suffer himself to be imposed upon by the passion he represents; he will imprint in himself a true and real grief, by means of the part he plays, to transmit it to the judges, who are yet less concerned than he: as they do who are hired at funerals to assist in the ceremony of sorrow, who sell their tears and mourning by weight and measure; for although they act in a borrowed form, nevertheless, by habituating and settling their countenances to the occasion, 'tis most certain they often are really affected with an actual sorrow. I was one, amongst several others of his friends, who conveyed the body of Monsieur de Grammont to Spissons from the siege of La Fere, where he was slain; I observed that in all places we passed through we filled the people we met with lamentations and tears by the mere solemn pomp of our convoy, for the name of the defunct was not there so much as known. Quintilian reports as to have seen comedians so deeply engaged in a mourning part, that they still wept in the retiring room, and who, having taken upon them to stir up passion in another, have themselves espoused it to that degree as to find themselves infected with it, not only to tears, but, moreover, with pallor and the comportment of men really overwhelmed with grief.
In a country near our mountains the women play Priest Martin, for as they augment the regret of the deceased husband by the remembrance of the good and agreeable qualities he possessed, they also at the same time make a register of and publish his imperfections; as if of themselves to enter into some composition, and divert themselves from compassion to disdain. Yet with much better grace than we, who, when we lose an acquaintance, strive to give him new and false praises, and to make him quite another thing when we have lost sight of him than he appeared to us when we did see him; as if regret were an instructive thing, or as if tears, by washing our understandings, cleared them. For my part, I henceforth renounce all favourable testimonies men would give of me, not because I shall be worthy of them, but because I shall be dead.
Whoever shall ask a man, "What interest have you in this siege?" —"The interest of example," he will say, "and of the common obedience to my prince: I pretend to no profit by it; and for glory, I know how small a part can affect a private man such as I: I have here neither passion nor quarrel." And yet you shall see him the next day quite another man, chafing and red with fury, ranged in battle for the assault; 'tis the glittering of so much steel, the fire and noise of our cannon and drums, that have infused this new rigidity and fury into his veins. A frivolous cause, you will say. How a cause? There needs none to agitate the mind; a mere whimsy without body and without subject will rule and agitate it. Let me thing of building castles in Spain, my imagination suggests to me conveniences and pleasures with which my soul is really tickled and pleased. How often do we torment our mind with anger or sorrow by such shadows, and engage ourselves in fantastic passions that impair both soul and body? What astonished, fleeting, confused grimaces does this raving put our faces into! what sallies and agitations both of members and voices does it inspire us with! Does it not seem that this individual man has false visions amid the crowd of others with whom he has to do, or that he is possessed with some internal demon that persecutes him? Inquire of yourself where is the object of this mutation? is there anything but us in nature which inanity sustains, over which it has power? Cambyses, from having dreamt that his brother should be one day king of Persia, put him to death: a beloved brother, and one in whom he had always confided. Aristodemus, king of the Messenians, killed himself out of a fancy of ill omen, from I know not what howling of his dogs; and King Midas did as much upon the account of some foolish dream he had dreamed. 'Tis to prize life at its just value, to abandon it for a dream. And yet hear the soul triumph over the miseries and weakness of the body, and that it is exposed to all attacks and alterations; truly, it has reason so to speak!
"O prima infelix finger ti terra Prometheo!
Ille parum cauti pectoris egit opus
Corpora disponens, mentem non vidit in arte;
Recta animi primum debuit esse via."
["O wretched clay, first formed by Prometheus. In his attempt,
what little wisdom did he shew! In framing bodies, he did not
apply his art to form the mind, which should have been his first
care."—Propertius, iii. 5, 7.]
ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
A little thing will turn and divert us
Abominate that incidental repentance which old age brings
Age imprints more wrinkles in the mind than it does on the face
Always be parading their pedantic science
Am as jealous of my repose as of my authority
Anger and hatred are beyond the duty of justice
Beast of company, as the ancient said, but not of the herd
Books go side by side with me in my whole course
Books have many charming qualities to such as know how to choose
But ill proves the honour and beauty of an action by its utility
Childish ignorance of many very ordinary things
Common consolation, discourages and softens me
Consoles himself upon the utility and eternity of his writings
Deceit maintains and supplies most men's employment
Diverting the opinions and conjectures of the people
Dying appears to him a natural and indifferent accident
Every place of retirement requires a walk
Fault will be theirs for having consulted me
Few men have been admired by their own domestics
Follies do not make me laugh, it is our wisdom which does
Folly to put out their own light and shine by a borrowed lustre
For fear of the laws and report of men
Gently to bear the inconstancy of a lover
Give but the rind of my attention
Grief provokes itself
He may employ his passion, who can make no use of his reason
He may well go a foot, they say, who leads his horse in his hand
I do not consider what it is now, but what it was then
I find no quality so easy to counterfeit as devotion
I lay no great stress upon my opinions; or of others
I look upon death carelessly when I look upon it universally
I receive but little advice, I also give but little
I speak truth, not so much as I would, but as much as I dare
I understand my men even by their silence and smiles
Idleness is to me a very painful labour
Imagne the mighty will not abase themselves so much as to live
In ordinary friendships I am somewhat cold and shy
Leaving nothing unsaid, how home and bitter soever
Library: Tis there that I am in my kingdom
Malice sucks up the greatest part of its own venom
Malicious kind of justice
Miserable kind of remedy, to owe one's health to one's disease!
Miserable, who has not at home where to be by himself
More supportable to be always alone than never to be so.
My fancy does not go by itself, as when my legs move it
My thoughts sleep if I sit still
Nearest to the opinions of those with whom they have to do
No evil is honourable; but death is honourable
No man is free from speaking foolish things
Noise of arms deafened the voice of laws
None of the sex, let her be as ugly as the devil thinks lovable
Obliged to his age for having weaned him from pleasure
Open speaking draws out discoveries, like wine and love
Perfect men as they are, they are yet simply men.
Preachers very often work more upon their auditory than reasons
Public weal requires that men should betray, and lie
Ridiculous desire of riches when we have lost the use of them
Rowers who so advance backward
Season a denial with asperity, suspense, or favour
So that I could have said no worse behind their backs
Socrates: According to what a man can
Studied, when young, for ostentation, now for diversion
Swim in troubled waters without fishing in them
Take a pleasure in being uninterested in other men's affairs
The good opinion of the vulgar is injurious
The sick man has not to complain who has his cure in his sleeve
The virtue of the soul does not consist in flying high
Tis an exact life that maintains itself in due order in private
Tis not the cause, but their interest, that inflames them
Titillation of ill-natured pleasure in seeing others suffer
To be a slave, incessantly to be led by the nose by one's self
Truly he, with a great effort will shortly say a mighty trifle
We do not so much forsake vices as we change them
We much more aptly imagine an artisan upon his close-stool
What more? they lie with their lovers learnedly
What need have they of anything but to live beloved and honoured
Wisdom is folly that does not accommodate itself to the common
You must let yourself down to those with whom you converse