ESSAYS,
OR
DISCOURSES,

SELECTED FROM

THE WORKS OF FEYJOO,

AND

TRANSLATED FROM THE SPANISH,

BY

JOHN BRETT, ESQ.

VOLUME THE FIRST.

LONDON,

Printed for the Translator:

Sold by H. PAYNE, Pall-Mall; C. DILLY, in the Poultry; and T. EVANS, in the Strand.

MDCCLXXX.

CONTENTS
OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

THE
TRANSLATOR’s PREFACE.

The Author of the following Discourses was a Spaniard, and a dignified clergyman of the Church of Rome, high in rank, and much respected as an ecclesiastic; but was not less esteemed for his candour and liberality of sentiment, than admired for his almost universal learning and extensive knowledge. The Translator has it not in his power to give so particular and satisfactory an account of this eminent man as he could wish; but the Reader will find in the Fourth Essay of the Second Volume, a summary one given of himself, in which he tells us where he was born, how he was educated, and where he passed the greatest part of his life; how he passed it, is pretty clear from his Writings, which manifest, that he must have employed a very large portion of it in study. When I first entered upon this undertaking, I had no thoughts of translating so many of the Author’s Essays as I was afterwards tempted to do; the subject matter of them, in which I found great pleasure, exciting me to proceed; and indeed, I was also flattered and encouraged to go on, by the expectation, that my labours in this respect, would afford agreeable amusement, and furnish useful instruction to many of my countrymen. After I had translated as many Essays, as I conjectured would make Four Volumes in Octavo, I thought it would be necessary to prefix to them, a more enlarged Preface, than that which appeared at the head of the first four; and as I have taken the liberty to omit some parts of those Essays which I have translated, I thought it would be right to say something, by way of assigning my reasons and motives for so doing; which are briefly these: That the parts left out, appeared to me, to be either confined, or applicable only to the affairs and prejudices of Spain; or else, that they were points of speculation, which the world at large, might not consider as matters of importance. I have also ventured to omit such things, as were relative only to religious controversy, as in this species of disputation, men are apt to lose that candour and temper, which they have been remarkable for preserving in all other cases, and upon all other occasions. A strong example of the truth of this remark, would have been manifested in father Feyjoo, had I translated that part of the First Essay, where he speaks of the Protestant Writers; whom he mentions in such language, and with a degree of warmth and acrimony, which he afterwards in many places of his Works, reprehends as improper, and illiberal. I have likewise taken the liberty to curtail here and there a description which appeared to me rather superfluous, or too redundant; and in the Apology for Persons who have been famous in History, I have omitted the characters, of the queens Brunequilda and Fredegunda, of both whom, I imagined the Reader would find as much said as he would be desirous of knowing, in some of the other Essays of these Volumes. Nor have I translated from this Discourse, what is said of the empress Maria of Arragon, the marquis of Villena, and William le Croix de Gevres. The accusation which had been brought against the first of these three, appearing to me, only interesting to the subjects of Spain: those of Magic against the second, to savour of spite and bigotry; and those against the last, to be the effect of pique and resentment, on account that he, although not a native of Spain, had been promoted to the archbishopric of Toledo. In the Translation of the Physical Paradoxes, I have likewise omitted some articles; for instance, such, as whether heavy bodies, if they could be forced in a perpendicular direction to a great distance from the earth, would ever revert back to it again; and also that, of whether gold is produced by the sun; and another, which treats of the possibility of restoring by natural means, sight to a blind person; as all these appeared to me, things rather speculative than interesting. In the Translation of the Moral and Political Paradoxes, I have also omitted the following articles: that which charges the Spanish laws with being too favourable to persons of tender years; that which censures the great number of holidays which are observed in Spain; that which treats of whether the offspring of a human father and a brute mother, should be baptized under certain conditions and restrictions; and that, which questions whether Christian burial should be allowed to a person who is guilty of suicide. The first of these appeared to me applicable to the Spanish laws only; and the second, calculated to correct the abuse that is made of the numbers of festivals in most Roman Catholic countries, and particularly in Spain, and which seems intended to point out the great loss they occasion to a state. The other two I considered as rather abstruse points, and such as would afford very little amusement or instruction to those who may peruse this work. Thus much for the omissions; but if the reader, who understands Spanish, was to turn to the Essays in their original language, he would find something added to them; I therefore thought it would be proper to mention, that all those additions, except the one that is made to the comparison between ancient and modern music, are taken from the ninth, or supplemental volume to the Teatro Critico, and are added in such places as the author there directs. The addition to the comparison between antient and modern music, is taken from the Essay on the Resurrection of the Arts; and all that is said on music in that Essay, is interwoven into this discourse, it having appeared to me to be very apposite to, and indeed, what one might not improperly call a part of the subject of it. There is nothing more that occurs to me as necessary to add to this preface, except it is, that I have selected these Essays from nearly all the volumes of the author’s works, and that, to the best of my judgment, those I have chosen are some of the most interesting of them; and such, as I thought would be the most entertaining, and the most instructive to the generality of mankind. How judiciously I have made this choice, and how well I have executed the translation, must be left to others to determine; and shall only observe further, that I have done both the one and the other, to the best of my discernment and abilities; and although the translation is by no means a literal one, I will venture to declare, that it contains the true sense and sentiment of the author, which, as well as my learning and talents would enable me to imitate so eminent a man as Feyjoo, I have endeavoured to express in nearly the same language, I imagine he would have made use of, if he had been a native of this country, and had written his works originally in English. For the rest, the nature, scope, and design of the author’s writings, will be best explained by his own prologue, which follows next in order.

PROLOGUE.
TO THE READER.

My good reader, whoever you are, I have little expectation that you will be very propitious to this my undertaking, from a supposition, that you probably are already preoccupied in favour of many of the opinions which I combat; and I ought not to have such confidence, either in my persuasive powers, or in your docility, as to promise myself an early conquest of your prejudices, or a sudden attachment of your approbation. From hence it may follow, that stiff in your old opinions, you will condemn my sentiments, as false and injurious. Father Malebranche said justly, that those authors who write with an intention to banish common pre-possessions, should always conclude, that the public will receive their works with disgust. Whenever it happens that truth becomes triumphant, the victory advances by such slow paces, that the author while he lives, only enjoys the vain expectation, that his tomb will one day be crown’d with laurels. A striking example of this truth, was seen in the famous William Hervey, against whom, on account of his noble discovery respecting the circulation of the blood, the physicians of that time declaimed furiously, though all the professors of the science at present, venerate him as an oracle. In his life-time they loaded him with injuries; now he is dead they would place his image on the altars.

I should here endeavour to win your mind to an admission of my maxims, and take the opportunity of shewing by various examples, how involv’d in error, are many of the most established opinions; but this being the intire object of my first discourse, I must refer you thither, for the perusal of my arguments on this head, I having plac’d that discourse in the front, as a necessary preliminary to this volume; but if you are not to be persuaded, and are obstinately bent on remaining a constant partizan of the Voice of the People, in the name of goodness pursue your course. If you are wise, I shall treat you liberally, and we shall not become angry with each other; for liberality will reprehend the sentiment, without ill using the author; but if you are simple, you, together with that infirmity, will not fail to possess the quality of inexorable also. I know very well, there is not a more rigid censurer of a book, than a man who is incapable of dictating a letter. Such people may say what they please of me, and treat my opinions as excentric, because they are out of the common road; but let us agree in a preliminary, to wit, that if they are to take the liberty of calling me extravagant, I may be allowed to say they are ignorant.

I ought, however, to remove some objections, that will naturally occur in reading this volume. The first is, the discourses not being distributed in determin’d classes, and not following in a regular progression, the faculties or matters to which they belong. To this I answer, that though I at first design’d such an arrangement, I soon discover’d the pursuing it to be impracticable; for having proposed to myself so vast a field in the Teatro Critico, I saw that many of the matters which would be touch’d upon in it, were incomprehensible under a determin’d faculty; either because they do not belong to any one in particular, or because, they participate equally of many. Besides, there are a number, every one of which, treats solely of some particular faculty, without any other having to do with the subject matter. On physical subjects only, within which walk the errors of the vulgar are infinite, you may write as many discourses as are capable of making a separate volume; but I am more disposed to divide them in the different volumes, because by so doing, each will afford a more agreeable variety. By this means, although every volume with respect to the matter, will appear strictly speaking, a miscellany, the design of attacking common errors will be uniformly preserved. The formal object will always be the same, the materials must necessarily be composed of great variety, and should be distributed.

I may perhaps be blamed, for giving the name of errors to all the opinions I controvert. The complaint would be just, if I did not remove the odium of the term by an explanation. I say then, that error in the sense I here take and use it, signifies no more than an opinion that I look upon as false, abstracted from, and without my determining upon the probability or improbability of it.

Neither by the term common errors, do I mean to signify, that those I encounter are incident to all mankind, it is sufficient to apply this term to them, if they are admitted by the generality of the vulgar, or lead in their train, a more than ordinary number of the literati. This must be understood with a reservation, that I don’t mean to introduce myself as a judge in those questions, which are mooted in various schools, especially such as regard Theological points: for what advances can I make on those subjects, which have been studied and considered with the most intense reflection, by so many men of eminence? or who am I, to have such confidence in my own strength, as to fancy that I am capable of entering the lists, where so many giants engage? In matters purely physical, this objection need not detain me; for those of this species which are treated of in other schools are very few, and those few with little or no reflection.

I may be also blamed, when I am to touch upon many things which are mere matters of faculty, for having wrote in the Castilian Idiom: as an answer to this, it will be sufficient to reply, that no other reason is necessary to be given for so doing, than that I know of no reason against it. I do not deny, that there are truths, which should be hid from the vulgar, whose weakness exposes them to more danger by being informed, than they would be exposed to by remaining in ignorance; but this argument would militate with equal strength, against those truths going forth to the world in Latin, there being a great number of vulgar, among those who understand that language, and it passes easily from them, to those who understand no other than their mother tongue.

I am so far from having the least intention to communicate pernicious matter to the public, that the principal design of this work, is to undeceive them in many points, which by being admitted as true, would be very prejudicial to them; nor is it reasonable, that a benefit which can be made universal, should not be enjoyed by every one.

But do not from what I have advanced, conclude, that I have great confidence this work will be of eminent utility; for although my sole object is to propose the truth, it is possible, that in some instances I may want penetration to discern it, and in others, powers to persuade it; but I can with confidence assure you, that I write nothing, but what is conformable to my real sentiments. I look upon proposing, or attempting to prove singular opinions, only with a view of displaying a person’s ingenuity, as puerile and pedantic, and consider it as an employment, unworthy of every honest man. In conversation, these things may be tolerated by way of amusement, but the introducing them into writings, is an abuse, and a deceit upon the public. The noble use of reason, is to penetrate and enforce truths; the knack of puzzling others with sophistries, is the meanest faculty of the human understanding. Spiders, which in the brute creation are looked upon as vile, fabricate fine, but trifling threads; among mankind, none fabricate fine and firm ones, but excellent artists; the first, are emblems of subtle and sophistical works, the others of ingenious and solid ones.

The common errors which I attack, do not always occupy the whole of the discourse in which I treat of them, and sometimes, many are comprehended in one and the same; either because they relate immediately to the matter of it, or because in pursuing the thread of the principal subject, they are found in the way, or fall in as it were by incidence. This method appeared to me the most convenient, as by writing a separate discourse upon every opinion I encounter, there being much to be said on some heads, and but little on others, there would result a compound or mass of parts extremely unequal.

I expect many attacks, especially with relation to two or three of the discourses in this book, and when some of my friends apprize me, that I shall be loaded with injuries and abuse; I reply, that such treatment will only serve to convince me more firmly, of the truth of what I have written; it being certain, that he is doubtful of his own strength, who attacks with unfair weapons. If they oppose me with arguments, I will reply to them; if with sneers and scurrility, I shall instantly allow myself vanquish’d, as that is a mode of engaging, in which I never exercised myself. Adieu.

THE
VOICE of the PEOPLE.

That ill-understood maxim, that God explains himself in the Voice of the People, authorizes the commonalty to triumph over sound judgment, and erect to themselves a tribunitial authority, capable of oppressing, and bearing down the dignity of literature. This is an error that is pregnant with an infinity of others, because, by establishing the position, that the voice of the multitude is the rule of truth, all the extravagances of the vulgar, would be venerated as inspirations of heaven. This consideration excites me to attack this error the first, upon a supposition, that by exploding this, I shall subdue many enemies in one, or at least, that it will be more easy to expunge other errors, by removing the patronage, which they receive from the common voice in the estimation of unwary men.

SECT. I.

I. Æstimes judicia, non numeres, said Seneca, (Epist. 39). The value of opinions, should be computed by the weight, not by the number of votaries. The ignorant, though numerous, are ignorant still; what benefit then is to be expected from their determinations? It is rather probable, that the multitude, by increasing the partizans of error, would increase obstacles to the advancement of truth. If it was a barbarous superstition in the Molossians, an antient people of Epirus, to constitute the trunk of an oak for the organ of Apollo; would it be less so, to concede this privilege to the whole Dodonean Wood? and if from a stone, unless modelled by the hand of an artist, you could not produce the image of Minerva, the same impossibility would continue, although you add to it all the rocks of a mountain. One wise person, will always discern more than a croud of simpletons, as one eagle can better see the sun, than an army of owls.

II. Pope John the XXIII. being once asked what was the thing most distant from truth, answered, the opinion of the vulgar. The severe Phocion was so firmly of this sentiment, that observing, while he was once making an oration in Athens, the people with one consent raise their voices in his applause, asked his friends who were near him, what mistake he had been guilty of, as he was persuaded, the blind populace were incapable of applauding any thing but absurdities. I don’t approve these rigorous decisions, nor can I consider the populace, as the precise antipodes to the hemisphere of truth; they are sometimes right, but this generally speaking, is either the result of chance, or the effect of borrowed reflection. Some wise man, I don’t remember who, compared the vulgar to the moon, on account of their inconstancy: the comparison however was just, as they never shine by the power of their own lights. Non consilium in vulgo, non ratio, non discrimen, non diligentia, said Tully. (Orat. pro Planc.) There is not in this vast body, any native illumination, wherewith can be discerned the true from the false; the light is all borrowed, and reflected superficially; for by reason of its opacity, the rays cannot penetrate through it.

III. The public is an instrument of various sounds, which (unless it happens by some rare accident) till adjusted by a skilful hand, is hardly ever in tune. Epicurus was dreaming, when he imagined, that infinite atoms impelled by chance, and wandering through the air, could, without the interposition of a supreme will, form this admirable system of the globe. Peter Gassendi, and the other modern refiners upon Epicurus, added to this vulgar confusion, a disposition and regulation, executed by the divine hand; but even supposing this, it will be difficult for us to comprehend, by what means, the rudeness of matter was polished, and the earth rendered capable of producing the most trifling plant. The vulgar of mankind, differ but little from the vulgarity of the atoms; and as from the casual concurrence of our sentiments, there would hardly ever result a regular series of established truths, it becomes necessary, that the Supreme Being should superintend the business. But how must this be done? Why by employing learned and wise men as his subalterns, and using them as a secondary means, to dispose and organize such material entities.

IV. Those who ascribe so great authority to the common voice, don’t foresee a dangerous consequence, that treads close on the heels of their tenet; for if the decision of what is truth, was to be confided to the plurality of voices, you should look for sound doctrine in the Alcoran of Mahomed, and not in the Gospel of Christ; it being certain, that the Alcoran would have more votes in its favour than the Gospel. I am so far from being of opinion, that such a question should be decided by numbers, that I think it ought to be determined the reverse, because in the nature of things, error occupies a much larger field than truth, and the vulgar of mankind, as the lowest and most humble portion of the rational world, may be compared to the element of earth, whose bowels contain little gold, but much iron.

SECT. II.

V. Whoever considers, that there is but one path which leads to truth, and that those which lead to error are infinite, will not be surprised, that mankind who travel by so dim a light, should in the bulk go astray. The conception which the understanding forms of things, may be compared to squares, which can only be regular one way, but may be irregular in an infinite number of ways. Every body, according to its species, can, by but one mode, be produced rightly organized, but may be produced a monster by an infinite number. Even in the heavens, there are but two fixed points to direct the navigator; all the others are changeable. There are likewise two fixed points in the sphere of the human understanding, to wit, revelation, and demonstration: the rest is a group of opinions, that dance about, and are made to follow one another, according to the caprice of doubtful and inferior comprehensions. Whoever does not observe attentively these two points, or at least one of them, according to the hemisphere in which he navigates; that is, the first in the hemisphere of grace, and the second in the hemisphere of nature, will never arrive at the port of truth: for as in very few parts of the terraqueous globe, the magnetic needle points true to the poles; but in most places has more or less degrees of variation; even so in very few parts of the world, does the human understanding attain the pole of its direction; the pole of revelation, is perceived directly, in only two places, Europe, and America; in all other parts, it has more or less degrees of declination: in the heretical countries, the needle is much warped, more in the Mahometan countries, and more still in the idolatrous ones. The pole of demonstration, is observed only by the small community of mathematicians, and even within that small circle, is affected with declination.

But what necessity is there for beating round the world, to discover, that in various regions, the common opinion is the reverse of truth; even among the people who were called God’s people, so far many times was the voice of the people from being the voice of God, that there was not the least semblance between them: no sooner was the voice of the people in unison with the divine voice, than it immediately changed to the greatest dissonance. Moses propounded to them the laws which God had given him; and all the people cried with one consent, “What the Lord has commanded let us do:” how beautiful was the sound of consonance between the two voices! but no sooner did the chapel-master Moses, who had put them in tune, turn his back, than the same congregation, after obliging Aaron to make two idols, lifted up their voice, and said, “These are the true Gods to whom we owe our liberty:” what horrible dissonance!

VII. Circumstances of this sort occurred often; but the case of their petitioning Samuel to give them a king, has something particular in it. The voice of God promulged by the mouth of the Prophet, dissuaded them from desiring a king; but how distant was the voice of the people from concording with the divine organ, for they once and again, repeat their intreaties to have a king; and on what do they found their request? Why upon other nations having kings. In this instance, there are two things which are striking and remarkable; the one is, that though this request was made by the voice of the whole people, it was erroneous; the other is, that it’s being qualified by the authority of all other people, does not amend, or exempt it from error. To sum up the whole, the voice of the people of Israel, concorded with the voices of all other people, and it’s being in consonance with that of all those other people, made it dissonant to the divine voice. Away with those then, who would govern us by common cries, upon the foundation, that the voice of the people is the voice of God.

SECT. III.

VIII. I was once of opinion, that in one special instance, the public voice was infallible, that is to say, in the approbation, or reprobation, of particular people. It appeared to me, that he of whom the public at large entertained a good opinion, was certainly a good man, and that he was certainly wise, who was generally allowed to be so, and so on the contrary; but upon reflection, I found that in this instance also, the popular opinion is liable to mistake. Phocion, as he was once reprehending the people of Athens with some asperity, was accosted by his enemy Democritus in these words, “Have a care what you say, for they will murder you for talking to them in this manner:” “And do you take care, answered Phocion, or they will murder you likewise, for pretending to pass your judgment.” This sentence shewed, that he thought the populace hardly ever right in their decisions, with regard to people’s qualities or characters. The hard fate of Phocion himself, confirmed in a great measure this sentiment, because he was afterwards put to death as an enemy to his country, by the furious populace of Athens, though he was the best man, which at that time could be found in all Greece.

IX. An ignorant man having passed for a wise one, and a wise one being reputed a fool, are things which have been frequent in many places; and applicable to this, is the pleasant event which happened to Democritus with his countrymen the Abderites. This philosopher, who had long meditated on the follies and vanities of mankind, was accustomed, when any occurrence brought these reflections to his mind, to burst out into immoderate fits of laughter. The Abderites having remarked this, although they before esteemed him a very wise man, concluded that he was gone mad; and they wrote to Hippocrates who flourished at that time, and earnestly intreated that he would come and cure him. The good old man suspected how the matter stood, to wit, that the people were disordered, and not Democritus, and concluded, that what they mistook for madness, was rather a symptom of great wisdom. In a letter to his friend Dionysius, informing him of his being sent for by the Abderites, and the account they had given him of Democritus’s madness, he expresses himself to this effect, Ego vero neque morbum ipsum esse puto, sed immodicam doctrinam, quæ revera non est immodica, sed ab idiotis putatur; and writing to Philopemnes, he says, Cum non insaniam, sed quandam excellente mentis sanitatem vir ille declaret. Afterwards, Hippocrates visited Democritus, and from a long conversation which he had with him, was satisfied, that his laughter was founded in wise and solid morality, the justness of which, he was convinced of and admired. Hippocrates, in a letter he wrote to Damagetus, gives a particular account of this conversation, and there may be seen his encomiums upon Democritus; among other things, he says, Democritus so far from being mad, is the wisest man I ever met with; I was much instructed by his conversation, and rendered more capable of instructing others: Hoc erat illud, Damagete, quod conjectabamus. Non insanit Democritus, sed super omnia sanit, et nos sapientiores effecit, et per nos omnes homines.

X. These letters are to be found in the works of Hippocrates, and are well deserving of being read, especially that to Damagetus; and from them may be inferred, not only how much the public at large are capable of being mistaken in their opinion of an individual; but also, with how little reason, many authors paint Democritus as a half-mad ridiculous person; for nobody disputes the judgment and wisdom of Hippocrates, who, after treating seriously and at large on the subject, gives so opposite a testimony in his discussion of the matter; for he declares, that in his judgment, Democritus was the most learned and wise man in the world; and in a letter of Hippocrates to Democritus, he recognizes him for the greatest natural philosopher upon earth: Optimum naturæ, ac mundi interpretem te judicavi. Hippocrates was then grown old, for in the same letter he says, Ego enim ad finem medicinæ perveni, etiam si jam senex sim; and consequently, capable of forming a good judgment of the abilities of Democritus.

I am disposed to think, that the accusation which some authors bring against Aristotle is a probable one, that is, that he did not fairly lay open to the world the opinions of other philosophers who preceded him, to the end, that by discrediting all those, he might establish the sovereignty of his own doctrine, and that he did by them, as the great Lord Bacon says the Ottoman Emperors do by their brothers, put them all to death, that they may reign in security.

SECT. IV.

With regard to virtue and vice, the instances of the one of them having been mistaken by the public for the other in particular people, are so numerous, that history stumbles upon them, at almost every step; nothing can illustrate this more evidently, than the greatest impostors the world has produced, having passed for repositories of the secrets of heaven. Numa Pompilius, introduced among the Romans, whatever policy and religion he thought fit, by means of the fiction, that all he proposed was dictated to him by the nymph Egeria. The Spaniards fought blindly against the Romans, under the banners of Sertorius, he having made them believe, that through a white doe, which he artfully made use of, and had trained for his purpose, he received by occult means, all sorts of information, which was communicated to the doe by the goddess Diana. Mahomed persuaded a great part of Asia, that Heaven had sent the Angel Gabriel to him as a Nuncio in the shape of a dove, which he had taught to put its bill into his ear. Most heretical opinions, although stained with manifest impurities, were reputed in many places, to proceed from the venerable archives of the divine mysteries.

XII. We have even seen such monsters, engendered in the bosom of the Roman church. In the eleventh century, Tranquilenus, a man given openly to all kinds of debauchery, was venerated as a saint by the people of Antwerp, and to such a pitch did they carry their adoration, that they preserved as a relic the water in which he had washed himself. In the republic of Florence, where the people were never thought rude, or uncultivated, Francis Jeronimo Savonarola, a man of prodigious genius, and great sagacity, was many years respected as a saint, and a person endued with the spirit of prophecy; he made the people believe, that his political predictions were divine revelations, though they were founded on secret advices which he received from France, and notwithstanding many of those predictions were proved false, such as the second coming of Charles the Eighth into Italy, the recovery of John Pico de Mirandola from a fit of sickness, of which he died two days afterwards, &c. And although he was publicly burnt on the parade at Florence for an impostor, still, all was not sufficient to eradicate his deceptions from the minds of many people; for not only the heretics venerate him as a heavenly man, and consider him as a forerunner of Luther, on account of his vehement declamations against the court of Rome, but some Catholics were his panegyrists likewise, among whom Marcus Antonius Flaminius excelled all the others, by the following beautiful though false epigram.

Dum fera flamma tuos, Hieronyme, pascitur artus,

Religio sacras dilaniata comas

Flevit, et O, dixit, crudeles, parcite, flammæ,

Parcite; sunt isto viscera nostra rogo.

XIII. But what has been the most monstrous in these sort of cases is, that some churches have celebrated, and even worshiped as saints, perverse men, who died separated from the Roman communion. The church of Limogines, addressed for a long time in a direct prayer (which prayer exists at this day in the antient breviary of that church) Eusebius Cæsarius, who lived and died in the Arian heresy, they having, as is most probable, mistaken him at first, for Eusebius Bishop of Cæsarea, in Cappadocia, who was the successor of Saint Basil; whereas the man we have now been mentioning, was Bishop of Cæsarea in Palestine; I am very well aware, some authors assert, that at the council of Nice, he conformed to the Catholic faith, in which he remained steady ever after, but there are so many testimonies to contradict this, and among the rest his own writings, that what is said in his defence seems void of all probability. The church of Turin venerated a thief as a martyr, and erected an altar to him, which St. Martin destroyed, after having convinced them of their error; this is related by Sulpicius in his Life of St. Martin.

SECT. V.

XIV. To excite a total distrust of the Vox Populi, you need only reflect upon the extravagant errors, which in matters of religion, policy, and manners, have been seen, and may still be seen authorized, by the common consent of whole bodies politic. Cicero said, there was no tenet, though ever so wild and absurd, that had not been maintained by some philosopher or other: Nihil tam absurdum dici potest, quod non dicatur ab aliquo philosophorum. (lib. 2. de Divinat.) I will venture with greater reason to affirm, there is no extravagance, however monstrous, which has not been patronized by the uniform consent of some country.

XV. Things which the light of natural reason represents as abominable, have in this, and the other region, passed, and still do pass, as lawful. Lying, perjury, adultery, murder, and robbery: in short, all vices have obtained, and do obtain, the general approbation of some nations. The Herules, an ancient people, whose situation cannot be exactly ascertained, though they dwelt near the borders of the Baltic Sea, were used to put to death all their sick and old people, nor would they suffer the wives to survive their husbands. The Caspians, a people of Scythia, were more barbarous still, for they imprisoned and starved to death, their own parents, when they came to be advanced in years. What abominations were committed by some people of Ethiopia, who, according to Ælian, adopted a dog for their king, and regulated all their actions, by the gestures and motions of that animal; and Pliny instances a people, whom he calls Toembaros, though not of Ethiopia, who obeyed the same master.

Nor are the hearts of mankind in many parts of the world, much mended at this day. There are many places, where they feed on human flesh, and go hunting for men, as they would for wild beasts. The Yagos, a people of the kingdom of Ansicus in Africa, eat, not only the prisoners they take in war, but feed also upon such of their friends as die natural deaths; so that among them, the dead have no other burying place than the stomachs of the living. All the world knows, that in many parts of the East-Indies, they uphold the barbarous custom, of the women burning themselves at the funeral of their husbands, and though they are not by law obliged to do this, the instances of their failing to do it are very rare, because upon their declining it, they would remain infamous, despised, and abhorred by every one. Among the Cafres, all the relations of a person who dies are obliged to cut off the little finger of the left hand, and throw it into the grave of the deceased.

XVII. What shall we say to the countenance, that has been given to Turpitude, by various nations? In Malabar, the women may marry as many husbands as they please. In the Island of Ceylon, when a woman marries, she is common to all the brothers of her husband, and the consorted parties may divorce themselves and contract a fresh alliance whenever they please. In the kingdom of Bengal, all the new-married women, those of the first rank not excepted, before they are allowed to be enjoyed by their husbands, are delivered up to the lust of the bramins or priests. In Mingrelia, a province of Georgia, where the people are Schismatic Christians, among the compound of various errors prevailing there, adultery is considered as a thing indifferent, and it is very rare, that any of their sex are faithful to their consorts; it is true, that the husband in case of catching the wife in the act of adultery, has a right by way of compensation, to demand of her paramour a pig, which is considered as ample amends, and the criminal person is generally invited to partake of it.

SECT. VI.

XVIII. Was I to recite the extravagant superstitions prevailing in various places, the labour would be immense. It is very well known, that the antient Gentiles worshiped the most despicable and vile animals. The goat was the deity of one nation, the tortoise of another, the beetle of another, and the fly of another. Even the Romans, who were esteemed the most polished people in the world, were extremely ridiculous in matters of religion; St. Austin, in many parts of his Treatise, called The City of God, upbraids them with it; and the most remarkable of their absurdities in this respect was, their adopting such an innumerable quantity of deities, to separate and distinct charges; the protection of the harvest, and the grain, belonged to twelve different Gods, each of whom had his particular department. To guard the door of the house, they had no less than three; the God Lorculos had the care of the wood, the Goddess Cordea that of the hinges, and the God Limentius looked after the pediment. St. Austin jocosely remarks to them, that if each individual would appoint a porter, they would find him capable of doing much more than any one of their Gods, for he would be able to execute this whole business, better than three of them, and with greater security. Pliny (who runs into the opposite extreme of denying a Deity or a Providence, or at least of affecting to doubt there is a Supreme Being) in giving an account of the superstitious faith of the Romans, estimates the number of their deities to exceed the number of their people. Quam ob rem major cœlitum populus, etiam quam hominum intelligi potest (Lib. 1. cap. 6.) The computation is not aggravated, as every man according to his fancy, appointed himself Household Gods, to each of whom, he consigned a particular charge, and besides this, worshiped all the established Gods. The multifarious number may be inferred, not only from what St. Austin has told us, but from the same Pliny, who says, they erected temples and altars, to all the diseases and misfortunes, with which mankind are visited: Morbis etiam in genera descriptis, et multis etiam pestibus, dum esse placatas trepido metu capimus. It is certain, that in Rome, there was a Temple erected to Fevers, and another to Ill Luck.

XIX. The modern idolators, are not less blind than the antient ones. The devil is worshiped in his own proper name by many people. In Pegu, a kingdom in the Peninsula of India, although they worship God as the author of all good, they pay more adoration to the devil, whom they believe to be the author of all evil. Some people in the train of the ambassador, whom Peter the Great, late Czar of Muscovy, sent to China, met in the way an idolatrous priest praying, and they asked him whom he worshiped? To which he answered in a magisterial tone, I worship a God whom the God you worship cast down from heaven, but after awhile my God will throw yours down from heaven, and then will be seen great changes among the sons of men. They must in that region have had some account of the fall of Lucifer; but they may wait long enough for a redeemer, if they stay till their deity returns to heaven. From as ridiculous a motive, the Jedices, a sect in Persia, never curse the devil, and that is, that one day or other he may make his peace with God, and then may revenge all the affronts they offer him.

XX. In the kingdom of Siam, they worship a white elephant, and four Mandarines are appointed constantly to attend him, who serve him with his meat and his drink, in a vessel of gold. In the Island of Ceylon, they worshiped a tooth, which was pretended to have fallen from the mouth of God; but Constantine de Bergania, a Portuguese, having got possession of it, burnt it, to the great disgrace of the priests who had invented the fable. The Indians of Honduras, worshiped a slave; but neither the divinity nor the life of the poor creature lasted long, for he died within a year, after which, they made a sacrifice of his body, and substituted another in his place: but their believing, that he who could not redeem himself from the confinement and restraint, in which, by way of security they kept him, could make others happy, was ridiculous enough. In the Southern Tartary, they worship a man who they think is eternal, having been made to believe so by the artifices of the priests appointed to his service. They only shew him in a private place of the palace or temple, surrounded by a number of lamps, and they always by way of precaution, in case he should die, keep another man secreted, who is much like him, that he may be ready to take his place, and seem as if he was still the same man. They call him Lama, which signifies Father eternal, and such is their veneration for him, that their greatest men procure by rich presents a part of his excrements, which they put into a gold box, and wear it suspended from their necks, as a precious relic. But no superstition appears to me more extravagant, than what is practised at Balia, an Island in the Indian Sea, to the eastward of Java, where every man has his separate God, which he fixes upon just as his caprice dictates, either the trunk of a tree, a stone, or a brute, and many of them change their Gods every day, for they are allowed this liberty, and often worship for the day the first thing they meet going out of their houses in a morning.

SECT. VII.

XXI. What shall I say of the ridiculous historical tales, which are venerated in some nations as irrefragable traditions? The Arcadians compute their origin to be antecedent to the creation of the Moon. The people of Peru maintain their kings to be legitimate descendants from the sun. The Arabs believe as an article of faith, the existence of a bird, which they call Anca Megareb, of such an enormous size, that its eggs are as big as large hills; which bird they say was afterwards cursed by their Prophet Handal, for having insulted him, and that it now lives retired in a certain inaccessible Island. The credit of an imaginary hero called Cherderles, is not less established among the Turks; they say he was one of Alexander’s captains, and that having made himself and his horse immortal by drinking of the waters of a certain river, he now goes about exploring the world, and assisting such soldiers as invoke him; they seem very happy with this delusion, and near a little Mosque appropriated to his worship, they shew the tombs of the nephew and the servant of this knight errant, and they add, that by their intercession continual miracles are wrought in that quarter.

XXII. In short, if you scrutinize country by country, the whole intellectual map of the globe, except only those places where the name of Christ is worshiped, you will find all this extensive surface, covered with spots and stains. Every country is an Africa to engender monsters; every province, an Iberia to produce poisons; in all places, as in Lycia, they invent chimeras; and in all nations, where the light of the gospel is wanting, they are obscured with as dark mists, as formerly obscured Egypt. There are no people whatever, who have not much of the barbarous. What results from this? why that the voice of the people is totally destitute of authority, because we see it so frequently posted on the side of error. Every one considers as infallible, the sentiment that prevails in his own country; upon this principle, that every body says so, and every body thinks so. Who are these every bodies? All the people in the world? Not so, because in other places, they think and say the contrary. But is not mankind the same in one place as another? why then should truth be more attached to the voice of this people, than of that people? Why because this is my country, and the other is a foreign one;—good reasoning!

SECT. VIII.

XXIII. I never observed, that the dogmatic writers, who in various manners, have conclusively proved the evident credibility of our holy faith, have introduced as one of their arguments, the consent of many nations in their belief of those mysteries; but have laid great stress, upon the consent of men, eminent for their sanctity and wisdom. The first argument would be favourable to idolatry, and the Mahomedan Sect; the second cannot be answered, nor can it be used to militate on the other side; and in case they should oppose to us the authority of the antient philosophers, who have been the partizans of idolatry, the objection would be grounded on a false supposition, it being established by irrefragable testimony, that those philosophers in matters of religion did not think with the people. Marcus Varus, one of the wisest of the Romans, distinguished among the Antients three kinds of Theology; the Natural, the Civil, and the Poetical. The first existed in the minds of wise men; the second was used to govern the religion of the people at large; the third was the invention of the poets; and of all the three, the philosophers held only the first to be true. The distinction of the two first, had been pointed out by Aristotle, in the twelfth book of his Metaphysics, cap. 8, where he says, that from the opinions of preceding ages which have been communicated to us respecting the Gods, may be inferred, they held some things to be true, and others false, and that the last were invented for the use and civil government of the populace: Cætera vero fabulosè ad multitudinis persuasionem. It is true, that although those philosophers were not of the same sentiment with the people, they generally talked their language, as an opposite conduct would have been very hazardous; for whoever denied the plurality of Gods, was looked upon as impious; as it happened to Socrates. The sum of the whole of this is, that in the voice of the people was contained all the error; and that the little or much which existed of truth, was shut up and imprisoned in the minds of a few wise men.

XXIV. After all that has been said, I shall conclude, by pointing out two senses, in which only, and in no other whatever, is contained the truth of the maxim, “that the voice of the people is the voice of God.” The first is, taking for the voice of the people, the unanimous consent of all God’s people; that is, of the universal church, which it is certain cannot err in matters of faith; nor through any antecedent impossibility which may be inferred from the nature of things, but by means of the interposition of the holy spirit, with which, according to the promise made by Christ, it will be constantly assisted. I said all God’s people, because a large portion of the church may err, and in fact did err, in the great Western Schism; for the kings of France, Castile, Arragon, and Scotland, acknowledged Clement the VIIth for legitimate Pope; the rest of the Christian world, adhered to Urban the VIth. But it is manifest, that one of the two parties must be wrong, which may be considered as a conclusive proof; that even within the pale of the Christian church, not only one, but several nations collectively, may err in essentials.

XXV. The second sense in which the maxim ought to be held true, is, by taking for the voice of the people, the universal concurrence of all mankind; it appearing morally impossible, that all the nations of the world should agree in adopting any one error. Thus the consent of the whole earth, in believing the existence of a God, is held by the learned, as a conclusive proof of this article.

VIRTUE and VICE.

Every mortal (said Philo, as cited by St. Ambrose, Lib. 1. of Cain and Abel, cap. 4.) has, within the little habitation of the soul, two females, the one chaste but rigid and unpleasant, the other wanton but soft and amorous. The first is the type of virtue, the second of worldly delights.

II. The learned Jew paints virtue and vice according to appearances at first sight, or according to the opinion of the world, but not according to the truth; and so it comes to pass, that virtue is commonly conceived to be all asperity, and vice all deliciousness; virtue is placed among thorns, and vice reposing on beds of flowers: but this is an error, and of all the false opinions upheld by the blindness of the world, the most pernicious one. I shall endeavour in this discourse to expose its fallacy, by shewing, that even in this life, abstracted from the rewards and punishments of that to come, by people’s abandoning themselves to the pursuit of criminal pleasures, they are liable to more inquietudes, and experience more fatigues, than they would be exposed to, by the practice of the moral and Christian virtues. For this purpose, I shall make use of such arguments as are furnished by natural reason and experience, without having recourse to the sentences of fathers, or the sayings of philosophers, the collection of which might be swelled to a vast bulk; but whoever is not to be persuaded by reason, will never be convinced by authority.

III. Could we but see the hearts of men abandoned to a vicious course, the doubt would be soon removed; however, we may view them by reflection in the looking-glasses of their souls, of which their words and actions are the types. If you observe with attention these unhappy men, you will find, that no others betray such perturbation in their countenances, such inquietude in their actions, nor such embarrassment in their conversation; nor is this to be wondered at, there being many tormentors, who are continually disturbing them in the enjoyment of their beloved pleasures. That domestic enemy, that unavoidable, but unsavoury guest, their own conscience, with the nectar they drink, is constantly mixing the gall they abominate.

IV. Tully said with energetical propriety, that the crimes of wicked men, reflected in their own imaginations, are to them continual and domestic furies? Hæ sunt impiis assiduæ, domesticæque furiæ. (Orat. pro Rosc.) These are the serpents and vulturs, who gnaw in pieces the entrails of the wicked Tityus; these are the eagles, who tear the heart of the rash Prometheus. Consider the torments of Cain, a fugitive from the world, and who, if it were possible, would fly from himself also; wandering through the woods and mountains, without ever having power to extract the dart which had pierced his breast, that is, the memory of his crime; or like another wounded hind, under which image the great poet describes the mortal inquietude of that enamoured queen,

——Silvas, saltusque peragrat

Dictæos; hæret lateri læthalis arundo.

V. Contemplate the anxieties of a Lamech, so violently pressed by the recollection of the murder, or murders, which he had committed, that, wanting power to remain the repository of his own secret, he throws it up like one who has swallowed poison, which excites a coughing or tickling in the throat, and runs the hazard of infamy and punishment, for the sake only of enjoying a trivial and temporary relief. Plutarch relates of one Apollodorus, that the memory of his crimes, haunted him in his sleep; for he dreamed every night, that after being quartered, his members were dissolved in boiling water, and that while he suffered this martyrdom, his heart screamed out, “I am the cause and motive of these torments.”

SECT. II.

VI. I acknowledge it to be true, that all men are not so susceptible of interior remorse, and that, as St. Paul expresses it, there are consciences so cauterized, as to lose all sensation; and hearts, which by a long habit of sin are become petrified;

Sic læthalis hyems paulatim in pectora venit.

VII. O men, of all the most unhappy! This obdurateness of the breast, is a schirrous of the soul, for which, by appealing to miracles only, you can hope relief. Such people are apt to amuse themselves with the hope, that during this mortal life at least, they shall pass on with mirth and enjoyment; but how much are they deceived, who feed themselves with such hopes, for these are the people who experience the most toil. This will appear by a survey of the three vices, within whose boundaries, almost every evil lays distributed, to wit, ambition, avarice, and luxury.

VIII. The ambitious man is the slave of all the world. Of the Prince, that he may bestow a place on him; of his client, because he solicits him; and of other men, for fear they should put obstacles in his way. His soul and body are in continual agitation, from an apprehension of the consequences, with which the loss of an instant of time may be attended, and he dreads all mankind, lest some one by an accusation, may occasion all his solicitude to vanish in smoke. How forced are his looks! for he smiles on those, to whom he bears a mortal enmity. What labour does it cost him, to suppress those vicious inclinations, that might throw obstructions in the way of his manœuvres! All the other passions, are the victims of the ruling one, and the vice of ambition, like a tyrant master, adds to the torment that itself inflicts, by the prohibition of all those pleasures which the inclination prompts to. He sees one go to a comedy, another amuse himself with innocent recreation, another go to a feast, and another to a ball; he sees them all, and envies them all; for his passions, though furious, may be compared to the winds, which are confined and shut up in the prisons of Æolus;

Illi indignantes magno cum murmure montis

Circum claustra fremunt.

IX. When he has obtained a place, his cares do not lessen, the object only of his anxiety being changed, and his attention is but translated from the means of procuring his rise, to the study of how he shall keep possession of what he has acquired. He finds himself placed on a ladder, which he cannot ascend without much fatigue, nor remain where he is situated without uneasiness, and where the dread of falling headlong terrifies him from descending. He finds the necessity of holding a tight rein on his depraved appetites increased, and is obliged to ride his vicious inclinations with a stronger curb. He is solicited by avarice, instigated by gluttony, and burns with incontinence; but still obeys, although it is with reluctance, that passion which has the despotic rule of him. He would wish to crush by an unjust sentence, the man who has offended him; but fears lest the injured person should appeal to the king, or a superior tribunal. He loves indolence; but if he relaxes in his application, all is lost. He trembles at the thought of a change of administration, as the idea fills him with an apprehension of being left deserted in the street; and never reads a news-paper, without being terrified at seeing an account of the death of his patron. Can a man lead a more miserable life?

X. It is a known thing, that the covetous man is one of the devil’s martyrs; or he may be compared to an Anchorite, who, by his abstinence and retirement, acquires merits, which may intitle him to a place in hell. His heart, divided between the desires of keeping and acquiring, experiences a continual fever, mixed with a mortal cold, as he burns for other people’s property, and trembles with the apprehension of losing his own. He is hungry, but does not eat; he is thirsty, and does not drink; he is always needy, and his mind knows no repose. He is never free from alarms. A rat does not move in the silence of the night, without the noise filling him with apprehensions, that a thief is breaking into his house. No strong wind can blow, that in his imagination, does not threaten the wreck of one of his trading ships. He is continually meditating new hiding-places for his treasure, which he frequently visits, doubtful of finding the money in the hiding-place, but always sure of finding his heart in the money. He views it with anxious concern, and sometimes will not venture to touch it, lest it should crumble to ashes between his fingers. Thus, fat in possessions, and a martyr to fears, his days pass away, till, as it happened in the case of king Agag, the fatal hour of punishment arrives (pinguissimus et tremens). Can a man’s life be more unhappy?

XI. If he seeks relief from lasciviousness, he will find, that no vice loads a man with so much uneasiness; and provided the meanness of his disposition, or the depravity of his appetite, determine him to pursue criminal pleasures, in the instant are set before his eyes the injuries it will be productive of, to the three articles, that are esteemed the most valuable in this life, honour, wealth, and property. He goes from pitcher to pitcher, to satisfy his thirst, till meeting with some infectious water, he poisons his whole mass of blood, by which means, his life is either endangered, or he is obliged to purchase the preservation of it at a dear rate, and although he recovers his health, he will suffer in his reputation through life.

XII. If, from the ampleness of his fortune, or the merit of his person, his pursuits are directed to objects in a higher sphere, he will avoid part of the inconveniences before enumerated, to incur greater, which is shunning Scylla, and running upon Charybdis. Adventures of this kind, are full of alarms, inquietudes, and dangers. What anxieties await him pending the love-suit! His eyes seek sleep, but find it not; for Jacob, who was an honourable lover, experienced, and declared, that it was become a fugitive from his eyes. His heart longs for repose, but does not obtain it. In this manner he goes on, conceiving unhappiness, that he may bring forth misfortune. He is constantly wavering in his determination, about what means he shall employ to accomplish his end; he approves all that occur to him, and he rejects them all: incertæ tanta est discordia mentis. He trembles to think of the possibility of a repulse. Love drags him forward, fear detains him. He finds the whole road of his courtship strewed with perils, which upon his arrival at the summit of his wishes, will be multiplied, the hazardous instances in such cases, being many; but it seldom happens, that the injury is confined to a single person, and it is next to a moral impossibility, that a man should take so many steps without making a little noise, by which means, suspicion will be awakened, and watching in the end, be rewarded with the discovery of truth; and although the purpose is accomplished, a man who commits insults, and does injuries, is never free from alarms. What real pleasure is a man capable of feeling, who cannot separate the gratification of his lewd desires, from the hazard that attends them? He cannot move a step in prosecution of the crime, but the injured person, presents himself to his imagination, with a dagger, or a pistol in his hand; and this danger is constantly pursuing him, whichever way he turns himself; so that he is precisely in the case of that man, who is in continual dread of losing his life, and always sees it hang suspended by a single thread before his eyes, which is a state, that God represents to his people as a terrible curse: Et erit vita tua quasi pendens ante te. Timebis nocte, & die, & non credes vitæ tuæ.

XIII. But admitting there are circumstances where these apprehensions do not exist, still it does not follow, that they are not attended with very serious inquietudes. Suppose that after enjoyment, a loathing should ensue, which happens very frequently, and which actually did happen to Amnon with Thamar. You see in this case, for the sake of a delicious moment, a disagreeable obligation intailed upon a man for life. If he resolves to break the noose, he exposes himself to the rage of an abandoned woman, who finding herself neglected, runs mad, either through love or hatred, which are both equally dangerous. If his criminal affection continues, the impatience of not enjoying his beloved object with freedom, over-balances the satisfaction, which is afforded by a delight that he usurps by stealth. In such a situation, his bowels being gnawed by a furious envy is unavoidable. But what if jealousies should steal in? Those who have experienced the rigour of these furies well know, how much they exceed the most exquisite criminal enjoyments, and that whole years of that false glory are not equal to one day only of this hell. Reflect on what has been said, and then tell me, whether you can figure to yourself a state more unhappy. St. Austin, who found himself so long entangled in the labyrinth of the three before-mentioned vices, is a good witness, that the dish which they present to the appetite, is filled with putrefaction. Hear his words, when he addresses himself to God in the sixth Book of his Confessions: Inhiabam honoribus, lucris, conjugio, & tu irridebas, patiebar in iis cupiditatibus amarissimas difficultates.

SECT. III.

XIV. Nor ought we to conclude, that those few whose will with respect to other men, is the law, and whose libertinism there is no rein to check, navigate the sea of vice without inquietude, for they also experience the waters of that sea to be extremely bitter. I mean sovereign princes. Nero was lord of the earth, that is to say, master of the whole Roman empire. He gave the most latitudinary loose imaginable to all his perverse inclinations, and those inclinations were irrefragable decrees. The weight of government, sat very light on him, and far from supporting the state on his shoulders, which by way of example, had been done by the best princes, he trod it under foot. All the world obeyed the sceptre, and the sceptre was the slave of appetite. He possessed whomsoever he liked, and put to death whomsoever he hated. Love in the Emperor’s hands, held its attainment and completion, and in the hands of his instruments, hatred held the knife. Passion could not carry a man to a more horrible pitch of extravagance, than he manifested, when he set fire to Rome to indulge his cruelty, and also to gratify his base appetites, which were evident by the indignities he offered to his own sex. All this, to the disgrace of human nature, was executed by that monster in iniquity.

XV. Who would believe, that this prince, who held the world in slavery to his arbitrary will, did not lead a joyous life? but according to Tacitus, so far from enjoying this happiness, he was always possessed with terrors: Facinorum recordatione nunquam timore vacuus. And Suetonius adds, that unable to sleep of nights, he used to run about the salons of his palace, tumbling heels over head like a man out of his senses.

XVI. Tiberius was equal to Nero in power, and very little inferior to him in wickedness; but with all his power, he led so uneasy and disturbed a life, that in order a little to relieve his heart from the oppression of its anxieties, he could not avoid bursting forth in groans and words, that were expressive of his grief and uneasiness. So says Tacitus: Tiberium non fortuna, non solitudines protegebant, quin tormenta pectoris, suasque ipse pænas fateretur; and a little before, he relates a mournful exclamation of the Emperor’s, in a letter he wrote to the Senate, where he says, my own crimes have transformed themselves into executioners, in order to torment me; adeo facinora atque flagitia ipsi quoque in supplicium verterant.

XVII. These anxieties of bad princes, are for the most part, occasioned by their seeing themselves universally abhorred, in consequence of which, they live in continual dread of conspiracies. They reflect, that out of so many people who hate them, some will be found, with sufficient resolution to execute, what had been previously concerted; so that amidst all their pleasures, they cannot feel more enjoyment, than is felt by a culprit, at the sound of soft music, while he is waiting to hear the fatal sentence. Dionysius the tyrant of Syracuse, in order to undeceive a person who envied his happiness, made use of the following expressive device. He invited the man to a banquet, and seated him immediately under the point of a sword, that hung suspended by a fine thread, very near to, and just ready to pierce his neck, and then informed him, that was precisely the situation, in which his fortune had placed him.

XVIII. Over and above this anguish, which is common to all tyrants, there is no legitimate prince, however happy he may seem, without his serious and weighty inquietudes. Alexander cloathed with glory, afflicts himself, because Homer does not live to celebrate his actions. Augustus, who had always been the favourite of fortune, because she once slighted him in the case of the legions in Germany, passed much of his time, both night and day, in ravings and exclamations, as if he had been mad. Caligula, fancies he shall insure his safety, by spilling great quantities of blood, but is grieved when he reflects, that all the heads in Rome are not placed on one neck, and that he cannot strike them off at a blow. The ambitious prince groans, because he cannot make himself master of the whole world; the covetous one, because he cannot accumulate in his own treasury, the riches of other kingdoms; the vindictive one, because he cannot destroy a neighbouring prince who has offended him; the lascivious one, because his imagination represents to him some foreign object, exempt from the power of his will. Thus bitter afflictions, are annexed to exalted stations.

SECT. IV.

XIX. So certain and so general is the sentence, which wisdom puts in the mouths of all wicked men, when they arrive at the region where the delusion ceases: Lassati sumus in via iniquitatis & perditionis, & ambulavimus vias difficiles. Oh! how have we fatigued ourselves in the way of perdition! our relaxation was weariness, our pleasures anguish; unhappy we, who have run the course of life, not through delicious gardens, or pleasant forests, but through thorns and briars, and intricate paths! This is the language of all the damned: Talia dixerunt in inferno hi, qui peccaverunt. Of all? yes, they all say so, and they speak the truth. All sinners have their little hell in this world. They all travel through asperities, to arrive at the precipice. They all drink the dregs of that cup, which according to David’s description our Lord holds in his hand: Calix in manu domini vini meri plenus mixto: & inclinavit ex hoc in hoc, verumtamen fæx ejus non est exinanita, bibent omnes peccatores terræ. And it must be so, for according to the sense and meaning of the text, the pure wine is for the saints of the land, where the enjoyment is pure: the mixed, is for the just of that country, where tribulation is mixed with happiness, so that even in this life, there remains for sinners, only the bitter and gross dregs; and these they all drink. All, yes all, without excepting even those, on whom the good things of this world seem to be heaped up.

XX. For the more clear understanding this matter, and to enforce the argument we are using, it will be necessary to premise, that in this life, there is a heavy and mortal affliction, which is common to all men; but with respect to sinners, it is peculiarly and most severely felt by those who seem the most happy. This affliction, consists in the reflection, that we must one day die. There is no doubt, but every living creature feels horror, upon arriving at that fatal pass, and is naturally sad, whenever it occurs to him, that he must unavoidably go through it; but he will be more affected beyond comparison, who after having culled all the regales of fortune, has placed his whole happiness in the enjoyment of them. Let us contemplate a man, rich, powerful, respected, and obeyed, and to whom nothing is wanting, either for convenience or pleasure, and to whom, let his appetites be ever so vague, fortune has denied nothing that may enable him to gratify them. Such a man, whenever he thinks that he must die, which is a thought that will sometimes occur to him, without his being able to prevent it, cannot fail to be exceedingly afflicted. The thought of death, to whoever does not employ it for the amendment of his life, becomes a torturer. Let us admit, that he is a determined Atheist, so blinded, as not to entertain the least idea of the immortality of the soul, and consequently, has not the least apprehension of what will befall him in the world to come; yet he will at least consider death, as a merciless, and a savage tyrant, who will despoil him of all that is most dear to him; of the property which he possesses, of the banquet he regales himself at, of the chace which diverts him, of the music which delights him, and of the concubine whom he adores; all which will be lost at a stroke, never to be recovered any more. The greater the pleasures are which he enjoys, the more miserable this consideration will make him. The unhappy man, who is the outcast of fortune, and even he who is placed in a middle station of life, feels the light consolation, that death will relieve him from many vexations; but what comfort can he receive, whom it will only rob of enjoyments? Death strikes terror into all men, but to such a one, it is terrible in extreme. Every man is intensely fond of his own particular happiness, and in proportion to the ardour with which he loves it, will be his grief at losing it. Such a man, when he thinks himself arrived at the summit of felicity, and knows no other than that which he possesses, with what anguish must he reflect, that the whole, without the least reserve, will be one day lost!

XXI. This inevitable melancholy, as they advance in years, is much augmented in all the favourites of fortune. Life, after a man is arrived at his prime, may be from thenceforward, truly and properly, compared to a chronic disease, which proceeds leading a man to death by slow paces; or to speak more properly, it is death implanted in our nature. Upon arriving at the period we have just mentioned, that is, the prime of life, the powerful man, from thenceforward, in the strength which he continues to lose, and in the diseases he proceeds to gain, finds constant information, that by little and little, the cottage of life goes on crushing and crumbling to nothing, by the weight of the temple of fortune. At this stage, he revolves in his mind, one by one, all the pleasures he enjoys, and all the objects of his love, and each thought tears from his heart a sigh, especially when he reflects, that the time approaches, when he must bid them all a melancholy farewell. He proceeds to cast another glance at death, and almost in the words of the unhappy King David oppressed with grief, exclaims against her in a sentimental complaint, not so much for having cut the thread of his life, as for having separated him by an eternal absence from all he esteemed and adored. Siccine separat amara mors. O sinners! whom the world call happy, is this living? But let the world be undeceived; for ye are the people, who burden yourselves with whatever is most heavy, and hard to be borne, that is contained in the stores of mortality; all your relaxation is fatigue, all your pleasure is anxiety, all your nectar is poison.

XXII. For your comfort and advantage, although you cannot be a stranger to it, listen at present, to that sweet and sonorous voice, which, by the divine organ, was conveyed and dispersed over the whole face of the earth. Attend, for to you it is addressed; hear and profit by it: Venite ad me omnes, qui laboratis, & onerati estis, & ego reficiam vos. Come unto me, all ye who labour, and are heavy laden with cares, for I will lighten your burdens, and give you relaxation and ease. These words, it is certain, are designed to reclaim sinners, and are addressed as a call to those who are distant from Christ. These then are they, who lead a wearisome life. Christ invites them to come nearer him, that is, to embrace virtue; the virtuous then are those, who enjoy relaxation and ease. Thus, you see, both the points I am attempting to prove are supported by evangelical authority.

SECT. V.

But having demonstrated the first point by natural reason and experience, I will proceed to do the same by the second. And first of all, I ought to acknowledge, that the beginnings of a virtuous life, are toilsome: Ardua prima via est; and more especially to those who have been a long time under the dominion of their passions. Vicious habits, are enemies, which in their first attacks, wage cruel war, but their force declines daily, and sometimes, by a miracle of grace, they are laid prostrate at the first onset. The flight of a vicious man from sin, is in all respects, like the escape of the Hebrews from the land of Egypt. How dejected were they, when, with the Red Sea in their front, they saw the Egyptian army at their backs! How haughty were the Egyptians! how desponding were the Hebrews! They are just on the point of treating to surrender, when Moses, exalting his voice, said to the people, “Now, Israel, advance boldly into the gulph, for the Lord hath undertaken to defend you.” They obey, and upon setting their feet in the water, the Sea divided. The troops of Pharaoh pursue them in crouds. What pride possessed the Egyptians! what fear the Hebrews! However, the last proceed with trembling pace, till they reach the opposite shore; upon arriving there, they turn round, and look at whence they came from, and they then perceive Pharaoh and all his host are buried in the Red Sea. Their grief is converted to happiness, and their groans to songs of joy.

XXIV. Exactly like this, is the flight of a sinner from vice. Egypt is the criminal station. The enemies who pursue the fugitive sinner are his vicious inclinations, of which, he was a long time the slave: these are strong, he is feeble. The first assault is furious. Moses is the virtue which animates him. The sinner at last, breaks through a sea of difficulties, and although it requires more perseverance in some to compleat the good work, than in others, he ultimately obtains the satisfaction, of seeing all his passions drowned. He gains footing on the opposite shore: and what follows? the same that happened to the Hebrews, he bursts forth in songs of joy. Afterwards, in pursuing his road to the Land of Promise, he is now and then upon the way, assaulted by enemies, that is, by some temptations; but they are overcome, as Moses overcame the Amalekites, by lifting the hands to Heaven, under which figure is implied the force and efficacy of prayer. Sometimes he also meets with bitter waters, that is to say tribulations, but a miraculous wood sweetens them; for the cross, or passion of our Saviour, makes them palatable. From Mara or Marath, a place whose name is used to express bitterness, on account of its nauseous waters, he makes the transition to Elim, a situation, which is both pleasant and delightsome.

XXV. Thus it succeeds with the sinner, who, fugitive from vice, puts himself under the divine protection, which never fails those who solicit it; but to be uniform to what I proposed, it will now be necessary, to consider virtue in its natural state, and abstracted from the extraordinary aids, with which it is assisted by grace.

SECT. VI.

XXVI. The superlative Mount of Virtue is formed the reverse of all other mountains. In the material mountains, the skirts are pleasant, and the tops all asperity; therefore, in ascending them, the pleasant part diminishes, and the dreary part augments. On the contrary, the skirts of the Mount of Virtue are disgusting, and the eminence grateful. He who would arrive at it, must expect at first setting out, to meet with nothing but rocks, thorns, and thickets, but as he advances in his course, the asperity diminishes, and he begins to discover the pleasant part; and at length, on arriving at the top, he sees nothing but beautiful flowers, regaling plants, and crystal fountains.

XXVII. The first passages, are excessively laborious and slippery: per insidias iter est, formasque ferarum; he is courted by the songs of the syrens, from the sea of the world; he is terrified in some parts of the mountain, by the roaring of lions. He casts a wishful look on the smooth surface of the valley, and he contemplates with dread the top of the mountain, to which he aspires. Freed from the prison of sin, still, in his passions he wears his fetters, the weight of which, together with the difficulty of the road, render his progress slow and toilsome. He hears just behind him, the soft murmurs of his criminal pleasures, which accost him as they did St. Austin, and say, is it possible that you can abandon us? Dimittis de nos: is it possible you can take your leave and absent yourself from us for ever? Et a momento isto non erimus tecum ultra in æternum. He however proceeds on, though a little dejected, and now and then meets a rub in the way, which causes him to stumble; but now he begins to find the path less difficult, and the clamours of earthly delights make less impression on him, because he hears them at a greater distance. Just so St. Austin experienced it: Et audiebam eas jam longè minus quam dimidias, veluti a dorso musitantes. Having gone a little further, he begins to discover the road plain and smooth, and although now and then the force of his antient habits causes him to think of the pleasures he has enjoyed, and the difficulty of forsaking them, the stroke is so feeble, that it makes no impression: Cum diceret mihi consuetudo violenta, putasne sine istis poteris? sed jam tepidissimè hoc dicebat.

XXVIII. He arrives at last, at the superior part of the mountain, where he beholds a beautiful, and an agreeable plain. The sweat and tears with which he watered the skirts, he finds have fertilized the summit; for here he obtains an abundant harvest, far exceeding what is produced from cultivation and prolix labour. This is hid from the eyes of the world, who, instead of considering him as enjoying a happy retirement at the top of the mountain, conclude, he is placed in an almost inaccessible and arduous station. They think he cannot enjoy an instant of repose, imagining the situation he inhabits, to be a field, where the elements engage with the utmost fury, and where the tempests rage with the greatest force and rigour. But it fares with him, as with one who scales the height of Olympus, who afterwards enjoys a climate of uninterrupted serenity, where the air is not disturbed with the most slight agitation, and where the tranquillity is so transcendent, that characters written in ashes exposed to the open air will continue legible for years together. There you always look down upon the clouds, and the fulminations burst on the skirts, without ever incommoding the eminence. At the same time, those who dwell in the neighbouring vales, conclude, if information or experience has not undeceived them, that it is ever obscured by gatherings, and continually scorched by the rays of lightning.

XXIX. Just so the difficulties of life, and the storms of fortune, fall on those who inhabit the humble vallies of the world, but not upon him who has ascended the Mount of God; the fat mountain, as David calls it. But with all this, sickness, grief, loss of goods, persecution, ignominy, and other calamities, are they not common to the just, and to the unjust? and are they not in some degree acquired by the first, by silence, retirement, watching, prayer, discipline, fasting, and other penalties? It is all true, but these are clouds that are seen at a distance, and only appear on the sides of Olympus, but never rise to the top; that is, they never attain the power of inquieting the sublime part of the soul.

XXX. I do not mean to insinuate, that just men are insensible, for this would savour of the extravagance of the Stoics, who pretend, that in the workshops of virtue you may transform men to marble. The virtuous have their sufferings, but they don’t sit so heavy on them, as they do on the delinquents, and the inquietudes which they both experience are felt by the delinquents in their full vigour; by the virtuous only partially. You may distinguish the spirit of the just man and the sinner, as you would the elements of air and earth. The earth in all its regions, is exposed to the injuries of the other elements. The inferior portion of the air only is so exposed; which is the theatre of vapours and exhalations; but the sensible alterations, do not reach what is called the superior region of the air. There the temperature is observed to be always equal, there the Heavens are displayed in a constant serenity, and there is always enjoyed an atmosphere, crystalline and pure.

SECT. VII.

XXXI. But let us scrutinize with the greatest exactness, the temporal conveniences of virtue. Health, honour, and property, which essentially contribute to temporal felicity, are of great importance in this matter, if the whole of it does not consist in the enjoyment of them; and considered with respect to these contingents, the virtuous man has much the advantage of the vicious one. No one is ignorant, that honour is the legitimate offspring of virtue; for which reason the Romans, when they built them, joined the temples together, that were appropriated to the adoration of those endowments, which they worshipped as deities; so that the only way by which you could enter the Temple of Honour, was through the Temple of Virtue. The very people who shun the practice of virtue, esteem and reverence it; and the blessings of health and long life, on account of the regularity with which he lives, are more likely to be attained by the virtuous man, than by the vicious one, who, by his debaucheries, ruins his health, and curtails his existence. Property finds a good steward in the œconomy of virtue, who takes care of and preserves it, by avoiding superfluities. Solomon expressed the whole, when he said, that the obedient to the divine mandates held long life in one hand, and in the other honour and property: Longitudo dierum in dextra ejus; & in sinistra illius, divitiæ & gloria. (Prov. 3.) Now, even supposing the just man to enjoy no other advantages over the vicious one, is not his condition much to be preferred?

XXXII. But it has others. The tranquillity, and sweetness, which is administered to the soul by a good conscience, places in a very eminent degree, the fortune of the just, superior to that of the sinner. This is a blessing of little bulk, but of great value: a precious stone, which, within small dimensions, contains great and rich qualities. The conscience is the mirror of the soul, and it happens to the just man, and to the sinner, when they look in the glass, as it happens to the handsome, and the ugly woman, when they view themselves in the crystal; the handsome is pleased, because she sees perfections, the other is sad, because she observes nothing but blemishes. The condition of the sinner is even worse than that of the ugly woman, for she, if she pleases, may run from the glass, but the sinner cannot do this; for although he should not present himself before the mirror, the mirror will present itself before him, and the understanding cannot shut its eyes, when the memory presents to it the images of a man’s evil deeds. In that state, the sinner is filled with horror instead of delight, for his desire forsakes him, and the blemish remains by itself. In addition to this, the sinner at such a conjuncture, is made unhappy by the reflection, that his infamies may be laid open to the world; at this thought, the inevitable torture of shame, and the punishment of the law, terrify him by turns. The just man, on the contrary, has nothing to fear. If he hides his actions from the world, it is not from the dread of their being observed, but to avoid the hazard of their being applauded. He contemplates them alone, and if he is so happy as to find that they are all good, he receives that pure pleasure, which the sacred Chronologer, even in God himself, paints as an accidental glory: Vidit Deus cuncta quæ fecerat, & erant valdè bona.

XXXIII. The difference between the just and the unjust man, is not less, when fortune in disgust sheds its reverses, or heaven is severe by visiting him with tribulations. The sinner loses his property, his beloved woman dies, he receives an injury from somebody, which it is out of his power to revenge. What relief does he find? None: he raves, he storms, he burns; he neither eats, drinks, nor rests; his symptoms are worse than the disease, and sometimes so violent, as to oblige him to take to his bed, and deprive him of life; and his passions often rise to such a degree of ferocity, as to excite him to lay violent hands on himself. On the contrary, the first thing the just man does, under similar circumstances, is to lift his eyes to Heaven; and whether he considers the tribulation as a just punishment for some crime he has been guilty of, or as a visitation for the exercise of his patience, he trusts, it will all turn out for his benefit; he knows the stroke comes from a friendly hand, and he knows also, that for his own good he is wounded; he not only is reconciled, but kisses the rod. Thus you see, by an admirable metamorphose, his heaviness is converted to satisfaction; and that what is poison to a wicked man, becomes balsam to a just one: for, Diligentibus Deum omnia co-operantur in bonum.

XXXIV. Who, upon a view of what we have enumerated and urged on this head, will not be convinced, that even in this life, the lot of the just man is incomparably better than that of the vicious one; that tranquillity and temporal convenience, are only to be met with in the paths of virtue, and that the field of vice, under the delusive appearance of flowers, produces nothing but thorns?

XXXV. There now remains but one argument for me to solve, and that is taken from the words of Christ in St. Matthew, where our great Master assures us, the road is broad, that is, easy, which leads to perdition; and that the path is narrow, that is, toilsome, which leads to life immortal.

XXXVI. I say then, that before we proceed further, it will be proper to reconcile this text with the one before quoted, where our Saviour invites sinners to pursue the paths of virtue, and propounds to them relief and ease, upon a supposition, that they are crippled and borne down by the weight of sin: Venite ad me, omnes qui laboratis, &c. and it is also necessary, to compound this with that sweet expression, used in another place, when he intimates to us, that his yoke is easy, and his burden light; and we should likewise harmonize with it, what David teaches us also, which is, that the road of the divine precepts is broad, and that the precepts themselves are so likewise: Latum mandatum tuum nimis. In fine, this text should be understood in a sense, that is not repugnant to reason, or experience.

XXXVII. The solution is easy, if we say, that grace reconciles and softens, that which is hard and difficult to nature; and the same yoke, which is heavy to be borne by mere natural powers, is made light, when the divine aid concurs and lends its assistance. And this is the manner, in which the fathers commonly reconcile those texts.

XXXVIII. It may also be said, by way of answer, that the Redeemer speaks only of the first passages or entrance into the one and the other path, so that the path of virtue, at its entrance, is toilsome and laborious, but afterwards becomes easy; on the contrary, the path of vice is easy at the beginning, and toilsome at the end. The context gives reason for this construction, for Christ, when he is exciting men to pursue the paths of virtue, describes all the difficulty as placed at the first passages: Intrare per angustam portam, says St. Matthew, which according to St. Luke, is, Contendite intrare per angustam portam; which amounts to the same thing, as if he had said, in the entrance lies all the difficulty; therefore take courage, press forward, fight, contendite: to conquer the obstruction, which you find in the narrowness of the door.

XXXIX. So it is, that this door is exceeding strait, and the newly converted is pressed by the power of its hinges, that the ill habits he has imbibed may be squeezed out, and not only the skin is grazed by the pressure, but sometimes pieces of flesh also are torn off, and left in the entrance. But the difficulty of this transit once conquered, the way by little and little grows wider, till at last, it is extended to a delightsome and a spacious valley;

Largior hic campos æther, & lumine vestit,

Purpure, solemque suum sua sidera morunt.

XL. The path of vice is very differently formed, and may be compared to a passage or cave, which, according to the naturalists, is fabricated as a place of safe retreat by the Rat of India. This sagacious animal, knowing the enmity the dragon bears him, and knowing also the insufficiency of his own strength to resist him, not only defends himself, but conquers his enemy by the following stratagem. He makes two entrances to his cave, the one small and proportioned to the bulk of his own body, the other wider at the surface, but which he draws narrower by degrees, till towards the other end it is but just wide enough to admit of his passing through. The use of this place is as follows: When the little animal finds himself pursued by that voracious beast, he flies to his cave, which he enters at the wide mouth, not doubting but the dragon will follow him, who eager for his prey, the large aperture being sufficiently wide to admit his whole body, plunges in, but as it insensibly becomes narrower and narrower, the dragon, who presses violently on, finds himself in the end so straitened, as not to be able either to retreat, or advance; the rat, as soon as he perceives this, sallies out of the narrow passage, and in the rear of the dragon, entering the wide one, revenges himself upon him much at his leisure, converting him into a regale for his appetite, and food for his resentment.

XLI. The stratagem of this little animal exactly resembles that which the devil practises upon men. He displays to him the road of vice, very broad and commodious at the entrance; the unhappy man, lured by this appearance, enters without suspicion, and in the consequence becomes a prey to his criminal pleasures. The road, by little and little, grows narrower; one care oppresses him on one side, and another on the other; sickness and old age, which are very nearly allied together, come on; his limbs begin to contract, and the use of them to forsake him; fear, solicitude, grief and heaviness, press upon him more and more every day, till he is put in such a strait, that even the soul with its spiritual nature is unable to ruminate or reflect on: by this progression, the sinner, in the end, arrives at the summit of anguish, and at that unhappy station, from whence it is impossible to recede, ubi nulla est redemptio, and where he will be eternally food for that ravenous serpent, whose voracity and thirst of blood is never satiated: Mors depascet eos; which Cardinal Hugo expounds, Diabolus depascet eos.

XLII. This remarkable difference and opposition between virtue and vice, was not hid from the antients, for the light of natural reason was sufficient to acquire this knowledge; and Virgil has painted beautifully, the distinction between the one and the other path, in the following verses:

Nam via virtutis dextrum petit ardua collem

Difficilemque aditum primum spectantibus offert,

Sed requiem præbet fessis in vertice summo.

Molle ostentat iter via lata; sed ultima meta

Præcipitat captos, volvitque per ardua saxa.

Exalted and Humble FORTUNE.

Those were blind themselves, who feigned Fortune to be blind; and they were unjust, who accused her of partiality. This error is corrected by religion, when it teaches us, that what is meant by the word Fortune, is nothing else but the Divine Providence, which is all eyes, and proceeds in every thing from the justest motives. But although the error is corrected in the essential, the deception is not so effectually dispelled, but there is still left remaining, a faint appearance of the principle. The complainers of fortune, compute the inequality of men’s lots, according to the greater or less parade and figure which they make among their fellow creatures; and seeing that in a great measure, this inequality is not proportioned to men’s merits, the wicked attribute it to the chimerical force of accident, the idolators to the caprice of a blind deity, and the true believers to the disposing will of a Supreme Providence.

II. These last conclude well, but they suppose ill, for thus it is; the circling wheel of Fortune, and all its movements, are directed by a divine hand; and the raising up some, and casting down others, is so ordered and regulated, with the most wise design. It is also certain (and this reflection is of infinite importance) that with respect to many, we see but one half of the wheel’s turning, the remainder of its circuit being reserved for completion in the other world. We observe, that Fortune raises some, and never lowers them, and that it casts down others, without ever raising them. What is this? Nothing more, than that Providence in this mortal life, gives the wheel but half a turn; the round is concluded in the other hemisphere; so that those who rise here, go down there, and those who descend here, are there mounted up. This is the most ordinary course, although there is no rule without an exception.

SECT. II.

III. But supposing what I have just premised is admitted, notwithstanding all the solutions and precautions we can advert to, a serious and pernicious deceit continues to impose on, and in some sort, govern the world, which is derived, as I have already observed, from those who conclude well, but suppose badly. In the distribution they make of happy, and unhappy people, they suppose an inequality, which in reality does not exist, nor is it to be found in the fortunes of men. He who occupies posts of dignity, he who inhabits a magnificent palace, he who possesses great riches, and much more he whose temples are adorned with a crown, is reputed the happiest of men. On the contrary, he who beneath an humble roof, scarce known to the world, who to subsist and enable him to live, has no more than is absolutely necessary, is considered as unhappy. At least, the fortune of this last, is judged to be as much inferior to that of the other, as a little fountain is to the whole stock of waters contained in the Nile.

IV. Very different was the sentiment of the oracle of Delphi, who, when he was asked by Gyges King of Lydia, who was the happiest man in the world? replied, “Agalus Psophidius, the possessor of a little estate, in a confined corner of Arcadia, is the most happy man who inhabits the globe.” The King, who expected to be told that himself was the happiest man, remained equally confounded and surprized.

V. Agathocles was a monster of Fortune; from being the son of a poor potter of the City of Regio, he rose to be sovereign of Sicily, with all which, I believe, that by comparing his fortune with that of Carcinus his father, we shall find that the father was the more happy man of the two. It is certain, he did not live in that continual uneasiness, which agitated the whole life of Agathocles, nor did he suffer any grief so intense, or of so long duration, as that of Agathocles, which was occasioned by the death of his sons, who were barbarously beheaded by his own soldiers.

VI. Pliny, in his seventh Book, speaking of those Romans, who, in some instances, were the most remarkable favourites of Fortune, such as the dictator Scylla, the two Metellus’s, and Octavius Augustus, points out at the same time, so many counterpoises to their good luck, as to leave it doubtful, whether the scale of their adversity, or of their prosperity preponderated.

VII. The labour would be infinite, if, by turning over history, you was to instance all those, to whom the hand of fortune, has alternately dealt the most cruel blows, and administered the most tender gratifications; nor would such an enquiry be of any avail to our purpose, because every one will readily grant, there is no asylum in this world, to protect us from the rigours of fate; nor is there any privilege annexed to high dignity, which exempts it from the jurisdiction of misfortune. The best method then is, to weigh the one and the other fortune, the exalted and the humble, and estimate them, according to what in their common and ordinary state, they are found to contain in themselves; abstracted from any extraordinary accidents, either favourable or adverse.

SECT. III.

VIII. I say then, that humble fortune according to its intrinsic value, if it does not exceed, is at least equal to the exalted. In order to give at once a clear and a solid proof of this fact, which may seem a mystery, it should be understood as a certain truth, that riches do not constitute happiness in men, in proportion to their material magnitude, but in proportion to what is enjoyed of them, either with respect to convenience, or the pleasure they occasion. What is a rich man the better, for having his table covered with a variety of delicate eatables, if he has lost his appetite? with all his dainties, he cannot be said to regale himself; and it fares much better in point of gratification with a poor man, who eats of a coarse dish, if his palate embraces it with earnestness.

IX. The comparison of relish with respect to food, may be applied to all our other senses and faculties with respect to their objects; for let these be gratified and delighted to whatever degree you can suppose, the pleasure produced in every individual, will tally with the disposition of the organ; and therefore, the greater or lesser degree of felicity of the subject, in the use of those objects, should be measured, not by the entative magnitude which is contained in them, but by the delight they afford. This being the case, you will find, that vast riches do not furnish to an opulent man greater enjoyments, nor turn aside from him more vexations, than is afforded to, and diverted from a poor man with his scanty means; and you will conclude, those are not more happy than these, and that consequently the fortunes of both are equal.

X. But how are we to know the hearts, and what passes in the breasts of persons in the one and the other state? Nothing is more easy. Nero erected a temple to Fortune, which he built with transparent stones, found in his days in Capadocia; so that from the outside, although the doors were shut, you could see all that passed within the temple. And nature has so made mankind, that from without, you may discern their good or bad interior situation, their looks for this purpose supplying the use of transparent stones, and their lips expressing their pleasures and vexations. Observe, says Seneca, (Epist. 80.) through the crystal of their countenances, the recesses of the bosoms of the rich and the poor: compara inter se pauperum & divitum vultus, and you will most frequently find the last more chearful than the first: sæpius pauper, & fidelius ridet. In this instance, he gives the preference to the condition of the poor; in other respects, he supposes the benefits of both stations to be equal: observe, says he, the greatest part of the poor people, and you will find, that they are in no respect more sad or oppressed than the rich: primum aspice quanto major pars sit pauperum, quos nihilo notabis tristiores, solicitioresque divitibus. (In consolat. ad Helviam.)

XI. Saint Austin found great benefit, from a reflection he made, upon seeing a Mendicant Friar go through a village in the state of Milan, to all appearance quite chearful and happy. He compared his own fortune with that of the poor man, and found, that he was joyous, and himself oppressed; that he was free from apprehensions, and himself full of terrors: Et certè ille lætabatur, ego anxius eram; securus ille, ego trepidus; and from thence he concluded, the fortune of that Mendicant was much better than his own: Nimirum quippe ille felicior erat. (Confess. lib. 6. cap. 6.)

XII. This is viewing things according to what they are in their own nature. To estimate the felicity of any man, you should not consider the goods he possesses, but the enjoyment he receives from the possession of them. Although the rich man always sits down to a splendid banquet, a poor man regales himself better than him, if, as is most commonly the case, he knows better what he eats. No man will say, that the existence of riches without their use is of any value. It is necessary, in order to relish their sweets, that you should expend them. They are a good of such a nature, that they can only be enjoyed when you part with them. He who keeps his gold in a chest may receive some satisfaction in contemplating, that he has it at his command, but that is much inferior to the inevitable chagrin, which attends his continual care and anxiety. Horace sung wisely, who held, that convenience consisted more in the want, than in the possession of such goods, as their concern for the preservation of kept people in constant alarms and terrors night and day, for fear a thief should break in and steal them, an unfaithful servant purloin them, or a fire consume them.

An vigilare metu exanimem, noctesque diesque

Formidare malos fures, incendia, servos

Ne te compilent fugientes, hoc juvat? Horum

Semper ego optarim pauperimus esse bonorum.

Lib. 1. Sat. 1.

XIII. Quicksilver occasions continual tremors to him who works it in the mines; gold and silver, to him who keeps and turns them over in a chest. There is no doubt, but the pleasure of finding himself rich is greatest in a covetous man, but his care and anxiety are excessive in proportion to it. Besides this, he is not so much gratified by the goods he enjoys, as he is made uneasy by the desire of possessing those he is not master of. There is always in his heart an immense vacuum, as obnoxious to his avarice, as a vacuum in all bodies is to nature, and his thirst is of the dropsical kind, so that the more he drinks, the more he craves.

XIV. Upon a supposition then, that instead of convenience, there is evil and vexation in the mere possession of riches, let us proceed to take a view of the benefits that may result from their use. And first, riches to a very large amount, are exceedingly superfluous for furnishing the accommodations of life. If a man, possessed of a few thousands of crowns, can find sufficient to purchase all that can be reasonably desired, of what use are millions? To what purpose should he who finds water sufficient for all his occasions in a little fountain, bring a river into his house? He would acquire nothing by such an act, but the hatred and indignation of those, who see, that without utility to himself, a man monopolizes a stock of water, sufficient to accommodate a whole town; by doing which, he exposes himself to the malicious designs that a wicked and perverse person may form to take away his life, in hopes that by perpetrating the fatal deed, he might become master of his property; and it is certain, that many persons from such a motive only, have fallen victims to the knife or to poison; so that an excess of doubloons to the owner, are rather things of weight, than things of worth. I mean, that instead of a convenience, they are dangerous, and an evil of life.

XV. But though they are not necessary to furnish the reasonable accommodations of life, they may be serviceable to purchase the pleasures of it. Upon this head much may be said. The natural desires of the greatest part of mankind, are fixed upon such objects, that with a moderate income, they are able to satisfy all their real wants. Meat and drink that might be stiled regaling, the diversion of hunting, and frequent amusement at play, may be all attained with a moderate portion of thousands. Of what advantage are immense riches to him, whose whole delight is centered in the cup and the dish, if he cannot eat or drink more than the proportion of a single man; and if, urged by his gluttony, he strives to cram down as much as would serve two, he would soon destroy his health, and not be able to eat a sufficient quantity to satisfy half a man. A person spending his substance, in diversions that are not suited to his genius or inclination, is throwing it away intirely. The sweetness or soothing of music, is allowed to be the greatest enchantment existing in the world, but what charms has it to him who wants an ear, or cannot relish it? The vassals of Antæus, an ancient King of Scythia, having taken Ysmenias, the famous Theban musician, a prisoner in war, presented him to their master as a prize of great value. Anteus after hearing him awhile, declared, that the neighing of his horse sounded better to him than all the fine tones of Ysmenias. Nor should we understand, that the want of musical feeling is confined to one single barbarous genius, for not only the tigers fly from the lyre, but many cultivated spirits are deaf as adders to the charms of music. It is told of Justus Lipsius, that he abhorred music, and that his whole delight was in flowers and dogs. Many men are insensible of the recreation afforded by harmony; and those who are not, for the most part content themselves with a coarse sort of music, which may be had at a cheap rate, and often for nothing. The remarks we have made on music, may be applied generally to all other kinds of amusement. How many are there, who cannot endure so much as to be in company with, or to converse with women! Flowers, which are the most beautiful production of nature, and with which the fields are cloathed with more splendor and gaiety than Solomon in all his glory, to some people are not only ungrateful, but noxious also. There have been those, who the fragrancy of a rose has caused to fall into a fainting fit. Cardinal Esfrondati, in his Curso Philosophica, relates of another Cardinal, that during the whole time of the spring, he kept a watch at the door, to prevent a rose being brought into his house. Spacious gardens afford but a slender delight to abundance of men, and to many, not even that slender one; besides this, in time, it becomes a sickening amusement, which with regard to the gardens of others may be removed, but not with regard to a man’s own; for that being always in his view, he comes at last to loath the sight of it.

SECT. V.

XVI. Thus with respect to many individuals, all that is attracting is comprehended in objects of little value. It is true however, that if you could collect all these into one heap, they would amount to something considerable. But to what end should people endeavour this? I am sure I don’t know, nor many times they themselves neither. What passed between Pyrrhus, King of Albania, and his wise friend and counsellor Cineus, is pleasant, and applicable to this matter. Cineus said to that prince in a conversation between them, the subject of which was Pyrrhus’s intended invasion of the Romans; “Truly, Sir, the undertaking is difficult, for we shall have to do with a martial, and a powerful people; but supposing the success of our arms to be so great, as that we should subdue the Romans, what fruit shall we reap by the conquest?” “Are you at a loss to find out that, answered Pyrrhus? Shall not we make ourselves masters of all Italy?” And what shall we do afterwards, replied Cineus? Pyrrhus answered, “We will conquer Sicily, which is in the neighbourhood, and may be easily subdued.” “That will be a great thing, said Cineus; but when that’s done, shall we put an end to the war?” Pyrrhus, who had not yet penetrated the drift of Cineus in asking all these questions, answered, “By no means; after conquering Sicily, we will proceed to Africa, and possess ourselves of Carthage, and the adjacent kingdoms.” “You are clear, said Cineus, that the Gods will indulge you with all this good fortune; but when this is done, what are we to employ ourselves about next?” “We will return, said Pyrrhus; to our own country, cloathed with immense power, and we will conquer all the Empire of Greece.” “Having conquered Greece, replied Cineus, what are we to do then?” “When this is compleated, answered Pyrrhus, we will pass the remainder of our lives in soft and sublime indolence, without thinking of any thing but banquets, and festive society.” Here Cineus, who had without the King’s being aware of him, entangled him in the net, said laughingly; “But pray Sir, what should hinder us from beginning to enjoy all this happiness at this instant of time? Is not the kingdom you are possessed of sufficient to furnish you banquets, and every other kind of regale? To what end then, should you conquer provinces and cross seas, wasting your health, and exposing your life to the rage of waves, and fury of battles?”

XVII. This reasoning, which is taken almost literally from Plutarch, is well adapted, not only to that ambitious Prince, but may be also properly applied to an infinite number of other men; who accumulate riches upon riches, at the expence of dangers and fatigues, and who, without knowing what they are in pursuit of, run a vicious and an erroneous course, in search of the very thing they possess. The pride of Philip King of Macedon, was mortified with great address by Archidamus the IIId, King of Sparta, whom Philip had overcome in a battle; and the day after wrote Archidamus a letter, full of arrogance and insult; to which Archidamus answered, That if he would place himself in the sun, he would find that his shadow was not a jot bigger after, than it was the day before the battle. Thus it is, that fortune aggrandizes, but adds nothing to the stature.

SECT. VI.

XVIII. Those, who are under the dominion of ambition and avarice, invert the order and nature of things; placing the end in the means of attaining it. They desire more, only to hoard more, and to have more power, merely for the sake of domineering more. But how does it fare with such people? why that they are always unhappy; because the hunger and thirst of their desires is never appeased, but either remains constantly in the same state, or else proceeds to acquire fresh augmentations. The weight of honour and riches has the same effect on the human heart, which weights have upon a clock; the greater they are, they cause the machine to be more violently agitated, and to move with greater impetuosity. The passions go on to display a succession of cavities, as the first openings are continued to be filled up. At first, the thirst can be satisfied with a fountain; after having grown into a dropsy, it requires a river to satisfy it, and after having swallowed the river, it craves the ocean: Ecce absorbebit fluvium, & non mirabitur. Alexander in his first schemes of ambition, had nothing further in view, than the destruction of Thebes, and the conquest of Thrace and Illyricum; having compleated this, he took it into his head to subdue the Asiatic Empire, and when he was in quiet possession of that, upon hearing a philosopher say, there were more worlds, he wept with grief, because that being the case, his ambition could not be satiated with the conquest of one only; which caused Juvenal to sing as follows:

Unus Pellæo juveni non sufficit orbis.

XIX. Those who endeavour to acquire riches to make use of them, and to employ them in pleasures, seem to have the advantage with respect to temporal convenience. For who can dispute the happiness of him, who being master of great riches, makes them the tributaries of his appetites? so the world judges, and the world deceives itself. The most able man that the world ever produced, and the best qualified to give an opinion in this matter from his own experience, was Solomon, as there was not upon earth, a man who was richer, or even so rich, as him, nor did any man expend his riches with more prodigality to procure enjoyments; in the doing of which, he had this advantageous circumstance in his favour, to wit, his great wisdom and knowledge of nature; which taught him the means that were the best adapted, and the most likely to furnish delight, and which was the best method, of applying objects to enchant the senses: I say, hear this man’s sentiments on the subject, who himself confesses, that he had given a loose to his pleasures, and gratified them with every thing their voracity craved: Omnia, quæ desideraverunt oculi mei, non negavi eis: nec prohibui cor meum, quin omni voluptate frueretur. And what did he meet with in this sea of delights? nothing but bitter waters: he found that all was vanity and vexation of spirit: Vidi in omnibus vanitatem, & afflictionem animi; and he found it so to such an extreme degree, as to make his life a burthen to him: Idcirco tæduit me vitæ meæ.

XX. This is exalted and brilliant fortune; and so exalted, that the fortune of no man ever rose to a more sublime degree of altitude. I ask now, if the most miserable man in the world can find his heart placed in a state of greater anguish, than when he endures the irksome sensation, of loathing, or being tired of his existence? We know that Job used no other phrase, to express the profound agony which his singular calamity had brought upon him: Tædet animam meam vitæ meæ.

XXI. What Solomon says is infallible, because the church has received that book as canonical. But though it should be confessed, that the truth of this matter is an article of faith, it also appears mysterious: for how could so much bitterness, be contained in the greatest delights? Solomon did not chuse to decipher this enigma, although his abilities would have permitted him to do it with the greatest ease. Let us see if I can hit upon its explanation, and I think I shall.

SECT. VII.

XXII. My first position is, that he who enjoys the most delights, is the man who enjoys the fewest; and I might even say, he enjoys none at all; but although this is another enigma more puzzling than the first, I shall easily extricate myself from the difficulty of solving both the one and the other. I ask in the first place, can meat or drink afford pleasure or gratification to a man, who eats without being hungry, and drinks without being thirsty? every one will readily acknowledge, little or none; but in this manner, do such opulent men as hold a loose rein on their appetites, enjoy delectable objects. The objects anticipate the desires. Hunger does not await the food, thirst the drink, nor lust the concupiscence. How then? do they make use of that for which they have no inclination? in the beginning, no; in the progress and the end, yes. The opulent man, who gives himself up to pleasure, begins very early in his course, to acquire a habit of gluttony in all his passions; by which means, in a very short time, the least glimpse of desire attracts him to the object. Even though his passion has been quite stifled by the antecedent enjoyment, new craving scarce begins to revive in embryo, when he gives himself up to fresh satiety; and as at such a crisis, concupiscence must be very languid, the enjoyment of course can be but insipid. This habit, by the immense repetition of acts, goes on every day, acquiring more and more force, till it excites men at last to drink of the forbidden liquor, when they are not the least stimulated by thirst. Here you see a man arrived at a state, in which, without tasting pleasure, or being able to experience gratification, he continues to destroy his health, and shorten his life.

XXIII. But I have not yet explained all the evil. The worst is, that hunger and satiety come to be joined together. If I say that the rich man who is filled, is as sensible of hunger as the poor man who is really hungry; it will be thought that I am propounding a new paradox, or at least a new riddle. But this shall not deter me from speaking the truth. The hungry poor man hungers after food, the hungry rich one hungers after hunger itself. He who is distressed, and in want of what is precisely necessary, craves for aliment. The glutton, who after having filled his belly, sees his table covered with dainties, craves for an appetite. The first is unhappy, because he wants what is needful for him, the other, because he can’t enjoy what he has. There is little difference in point of pain or uneasiness, between him who is really in want of water, and him who is oppressed with a dropsical thirst.

XXIV. This depraved craving, this flame, which raises itself upon the ashes of another fire, worst or last disease of concupiscence, or of the concupiscence of the superior part of the soul, oppresses those much, who, when they attain the pinnacle of power, arrive at the summit of perverseness; whose whole pursuit, has been seeking provocations for the appetite, dainties to feed their sensuality, and extravagant incentives to inflame desire. In looking for the exquisite, they found the monstrous. Heliogabalus went so far, as to make a banquet, all composed of the combs of cocks. Nero exercised his lust, cloathed in the skins of wild beasts, which was a habit, well suited to the character of that brute. So extravagant were the abominations of other Emperors, that neither the course of so many ages, nor the fragrance of such number of saints as have lived since, have dissipated at Rome, the stink of the Princes of those times. But with all their solicitude, what did they obtain? Nothing; they only augmented the violence of a bad habit, and caused it to exert itself in loathing. Pleasure in the mean while fled away, like the water of Tantalus, which, notwithstanding he seemed to have it always within his reach, his excessive anticipation of laying hold of it, was the occasion of his not being able to obtain it. These people, with all their toil, only acquired anxieties of mind, sickness, and bodily pain. And it is worthy of remarking, that those who gave themselves up to gluttony and lust, became melancholy, peevish, and disagreeable; and it may be from this cause, that we have rarely heard of a Prince, who was lascivious and a glutton, in whom cruelty was not joined to those vices. Some of them came to be tired of themselves, for instance, the second Apicius, who, after gorging two millions and a half, deprived himself of life with a halter. What was this, but finding vanity and vexation of spirit, among the greatest: endowments of fortune? Do even the miserably poor, think you, lead so unsavoury and tiresome lives?

SECT. VIII.

XXV. Truly, I have now pursued the comparison of the one and the other fortune, through the most difficult part, having drawn into the parallel, the most elevated, and the most abased, the sovereign state, and that of beggary. I did not intend so much when I began to write this chapter, but the pen took a flight without my being aware of it, towards the extreme of both the extremities. So much was not necessary, but as it is done, let us suppose that we have conquered all the difficulty at the first onset; because, if he who is under the feet of fortune, is equal to him who treads the summit of her wheel; the reason is stronger, for supposing him who has no more than what is required to provide things that are precisely necessary, equal to the man, who is possessed of a princely fortune.

XXVI. The truth is, if we are to speak out, that he is not only equal, but superior. Upon a superficial view, the rich man appears to be better accommodated, and exposed to fewer inconveniencies than the poor one, but if you search to the bottom, you will find the reverse. The rich man has great abundance, and variety of delicious eatables; but do they taste more savoury to him, than his common coarse food to the poor one? no, nor so savoury, for the appetite with which the poor man sits down to table, more than compensates, for the advantage derived to the rich one by his excess. Of what consequence is it to the bees of Lithuania, a rude and unpleasant country, that they have not such beautiful and odoriferous flowers to gather from, as the bees of other countries; if from their own trifling and unpleasing ones, they extract the sweetest and best-flavoured honey that is to be found in all Europe? The rich man lays himself down on a feather-bed, but does he sleep more, or better than a poor one on a truss of straw? You see that the poor man, always rises chearful and pleasant, and that the other, often complains of having passed an uneasy night. How many people slept sweetly on the hard ground, the same night, that king Ahasuerus not being able to take rest, was constrained to amuse himself with reading the annals of his Kingdom! The rich defend themselves from the rigours of cold, with thick walls, tapestry hangings, and furred garments; but observe, and you will find, that they complain more of the intemperance of the season, shut up within the walls of their palaces, than the shepherd covered with skins, on the heights of the mountain. David, when he was grown old, found it difficult to defend himself from the cold, with all the covering he could put on, when at the same time, many antient labourers, with half the cloathing, made light of the frosts. You will see at every turn, an opulent man trembling, and expressing his extreme sensations of cold, whenever he is obliged to leave the fire-side, while at the same time, the common people are passing chearfully along the street. The same difference is observeable in summer. The rich man is low spirited and oppressed with lassitude, and scarce ventures to go up stairs or down; while the common people, with alacrity and chearfulness, apply themselves to whatever falls in their way. So that what Dionysius of Sicily, said of the golden cloak, which covered the statue of Jupiter, by way of furnishing a pretence to plunder it, may be applied to the riches of opulent people; which was, that a cloth cloak was better, because the golden one in winter, did not defend him from the cold, and in summer, it fatigued him with its weight. The opulent man, inhabits a capacious and commodious palace, and never contented, he is always thinking of enlarging or improving it, but the thought of his habitation being too confined, scarce ever occurs to a poor man in the whole course of a year.

XXVII. The rich man wears fine holland, the poor one coarse dowlas; but tell me, if you ever heard a poor man complain, that the roughness of the dowlas was unpleasant to, or gave him bodily uneasiness. The rich man is idle, and the poor one at work all the day; but you will not observe, that the poor man is more sad at his work, than the rich one in his state of indolence; on the contrary, and especially if he works in company, his time passes merrily, and he goes on singing and chanting through the whole course of his labour. When that is over, his relaxation is not like that of the rich, an insipid indolence, but sweet repose, and in the conclusion, soft and uninterrupted sleep recompences the labour of the day. The rich, on the contrary, (as sleep does not sit easy on members which have not been exercised,) restless and impatient, turns a thousand times in his bed; so that the poor man may be said to work by day, and the rich one by night. In case of going a journey, it is true, the rich man travels either on horseback or in a coach, and the poor one on foot. Notwithstanding which, the rich man is more sensible of the inclemency of the weather, and is much more affected by an incommodious lodging-room, a hard bed, and the want of refreshment than the poor one; to whom, by his being accustomed to them, such things are familiar, and consequently they do not make him uneasy. I, in my journies, have remarked, that the lad who attended me on foot, seemed much less sensible of the difficulties and inconveniencies of the road, than myself. You may add to this, the dread of thieves, from whom the poor have nothing to fear, when the rich, behind the trunk of every tree they come near, fancy they see a robber.

XXVIII. If we would weigh the pleasures of one and the other state, we should attend to the remark of Seneca before cited: Inspice pauperum, & divitum vultus. You will observe the poor, chearful in their conversation, laughing from their hearts at their rustic balls, and in all appearance truly happy: Sæpius pauper, & fidelius ridet. On the contrary, you will see the rich, even at their festive meetings, seem tired and surfeited. At least, happiness does not shine so brilliant in their countenances, as in those of the poor.

XXIX. All these disproportions, spring from, or grow out of one general principle, which is this; nature left to herself, is contented with a little, but by attempting to polish her, you fashion her into a fantastical lady, who craves every thing, and despises every thing. A human heart with three ventricles, in the year 1699, was presented to the Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris, as the most monstrous production that had ever been seen; but morally and politically speaking, it is a monster we see every day. The human heart, naturally contains but two large cavities; but if you fill these with worldly goods, a succession of others will begin to open, and others still without end. Pleasure and delight, are nothing to a man who does not consider and feel them as such, and no man considers that as a regale, which he is used and accustomed to; or which is adapted and familiar to his own sphere of life. Therefore delicate food, is delicate to him only, who has been used to eat plain victuals; but dainties, are familiar and common things to the man who has been accustomed to feed on them, and therefore, he craves something more exquisite. Even variety itself, to him who is used to vary his objects every day, that they may tally with his inclinations, loses all the enchantment which it originally contained. A poor man tastes more pleasure in feeding on a common fish at his own homely board, than Caius Hirtius, in eating with great pomp, his most regaling Murenas; and he is more happy, when he adds to his inheritance a foot of land, than Alexander was, when he added to his conquests the City of Tyre.

SECT. IX.

XXX. If we were to compare the anxieties incident to the one and the other state, as we have done the pleasures, we should find, that by much the greatest load of the first, would rest on the shoulders of the rich; either from the greater sensibility of the subjects, or from the greater magnitude, or multitude of their cares. The rich are of a delicate texture, liable to be moved and disturbed with every blast, or made of sonorous metal, which complains loudly at the gentlest touch. They may be compared to a well at Chiapa, a Province in New Spain, from which, by throwing in a small stone, you raise a horrible tempest. Hence the furious perturbations which in the opulent, are produced by slight causes. The Sultan Mahomed the Second, was seized with such a barbarous rage upon missing a melon out of his garden, that he ordered the stomachs of fourteen pages to be opened, to discover who had eaten it. And Otho Antonio, Duke of Urbino, ordered one of his servants to be burnt alive, for having neglected to wake him at the time he had appointed.

XXXI. The toils of the great are also more in number, than those of the poor. The larger the bulk of a man, the fairer mark he is for his enemy to hit; and the greater the amplitude of his fortune, the larger the space is exposed to the wounds of adversity. The rich are high towers, the poor humble cottages, and the ray of lightning, oftner discharges its fury on the tower, than on the cottage. One of the greatest temporal evils that can befal a man, is a broken constitution, as the greatest temporal blessing, is a robust state of health. And there is no doubt, but that with equal stamina, a poor man is more healthy than a rich one, because the last injures his health by his excesses, and the other, preserves his by his sobriety. Of what avail are all a great man’s riches to him, when he is oppressed by a fit of the gout? (and the gout, by the way, is a distemper which seldom attacks the poor.) I say what is he the better for them, if they cannot procure him a remedy for the evil, nor even obtain him the least ease or relief? While the fit lasts, he suffers pain; and when it is over, he endures the terrors and apprehensions of fresh attacks. Solomon pronounced the following sentence, which is applicable to all the rich: Quid prodest possessori, nisi quod cernat divitias oculis suis? Of what other use are riches to a man who possesses vast treasures, than to feast his eyes with the sight of them. But the sentence is more strongly applicable, to an opulent man of a bad constitution, who is constantly ailing.

XXXII. A great man has more cares, and consequently more to vex him, than an humble one. More people are envious of him, and consequently he has more enemies. He is desirous of aggrandizing his fortune still more, and grieves at every little obstacle he meets with; which he considers as a steep rock in the way of his pursuits. From those below him, he expects more homage; and one only, as in the case of Mordecai and Haman, refusing to bend the knee to him, is sufficient to make him unhappy. He is anxious to be upon an equality with his superiors, and when he sees any one, whom he looks upon as his equal, or his inferior, step before him, he can hardly contain himself. There was a famous painter, named Francis of France, rich, both in possessions and fame. When this man was at Bolognia, he saw a figure of Saint Cecilia, which had been painted by Raphael of Urbino, for a church in that city; and seeing, and being sensible, how much he was outdone in the use of the pencil, by that incomparable artist, it so affected him, that he fell sick and died in a few days. It cannot be said with truth, that ever a poor man died from such a cause, or of such an affection.

XXXIII. Fears and apprehensions, in which are contained the most severe martyrdom of life; because by means of them, people endure all future, and all possible evils, have their very nests in the hearts of the great. He who is oppressed with evils, is always grieving; he who is possessed of goods, is always fearing: and what is more afflicting than perpetual terror? The dangers which threaten a great man, are in proportion to the possible cases, of others enriching themselves by despoiling, or murdering him; and though these are many, in his imagination they are still more; so that riches are acquired by toil, and preserved by anxiety. The inhabitants of Macasar, an Island in the Indian Sea, have a custom of drawing some of their teeth, and putting gold or silver ones in the place of them, which practice, cannot fail to be troublesome and hurtful to them. Can any thing favour stronger of barbarism, than the suffering a voluntary pain, only to gain an inconvenience? Those fall into the same mistake, who pant for, and are anxious in their pursuit after riches. They draw their teeth, that is, they undergo great suffering in order to acquire more wealth; and in the room of those they have parted with, they get teeth of gold and silver, yes, but these are teeth, which in the end, will feed on, and gnaw their own hearts. It is very remarkable, that in the age of gold and silver, (according to the description given, and the division made of the four ages by the poets,) there was no gold or silver to be met with, but these metals made their appearance in the age of iron. Thus Ovid, speaking of this age:

———— Itum est in viscera terræ

Quasque recondiderat, Stygiisque admoverat umbris

Effodiuntur opes irritamenta malorum.

Famque nocens ferrum, ferroque nocentius aurum

Prodierat, prodit bellum quod pugnat utroque.

XXXIV. The age of gold passed without gold, and was therefore the Golden Age, that is fortunate and happy. In the age of iron, there was gold, and on that account, it was called the Iron Age, that is, it was harsh and toilsome.

XXXV. Lucan, in his fifth Book of the Civil War, makes a fine digression upon the happiness of the poor boatman, Amiclas, when he paints Cæsar, in the silence of the night, tapping at the door of his cabbin to awake him, and make him rise, and carry him with all possible haste to Calabria. All the world was agitated, and trembling with the movements of the civil war; and within Greece itself, which is the theatre of the war, in the very neighbourhood of the armies, a poor boatman on dried sheep skins, sleeps without fear. The strokes of the generous leader at his door awake him, without producing the least surprize in his breast; for although he was not ignorant, that the whole face of the country was covered with troops, he knew very well, there was nothing in his cabbin to invite military insults. O life of the poor, exclaims the poet, in which is contained the felicity of being exempt from outrages. O poverty! thou greatest blessing of heaven, although not recognized or justly valued by men. What palaces or what temples were there, which enjoyed the privilege of Amiclas and his cabbin, neither of which, could be made to tremble at the strokes of the robust hand of Cæsar!

———— O vita tuta facultas

Pauperis, angustique lares! O munera nondum

Intellecta divûm. Quibus hoc contingere templis;

Aut potuit muris, nullo trepidare tumultu

Cæsarea pulsante manu!

XXXVI. It is not to be wondered at, that temples and palaces should be shaken, when cottages remain secure; because in temples and palaces, riches are kept, therefore in them, there is no being free from alarms. If we compare the fortune of Amiclas, with the lives of Cæsar and Pompey, who were all contemporaries; how brilliant were theirs, how obscure was his; but if you consider them prudently, how much preferable was that of Amiclas. Those ambitious heroes, whose elevated splendor, made the world regard them as two suns, were in reality no more than parahelions, or suns in appearance only, false reflections, stamped in the inconstancy of flying clouds. How far were they from happy, each being constantly tormented with the jealousy of the other’s power.

Et jam nemo ferre potest, Cæsar ve priorem

Pompeiusve parem.

XXXVII. They contend for the Empire, hazarding in the competition, life and liberty. How each is possessed, with the fear of his rival becoming victorious; what miserable forsaken man, did fortune ever place in such a strait, that in order to better his condition, he should be obliged like Cæsar, in the dead of the night, to commit himself to the rage of a tempestuous sea? Amiclas, at the same time, knows no other cares, than those of exploring the sea, and spreading his nets to dry in the sun. Others are agitated and tossed about on the plains, and in the fields, while he is secure amidst the waves. He catches fish in the sea, while others on land fish for tempests. At the expence of a little labour, the water affords him as much as is necessary to support life; when the great fatigues of Cæsar and Pompey, serve only to precipitate on them a violent death. The din of so much martial noise, disturbs not his rest; while each of the two chiefs, finds in his own heart, a continual alarm to awaken him. He fears nobody, because no one covets his fortune; but if any body should be so prudent as to covet it, he may enjoy the same thing, without despoiling Amiclas. Cæsar and Pompey for the present, mutually fear each other. The vanquished person in future, fears all the world, and the conqueror has to fear all those who envy him.

XXXVIII. The heathen poets, feigned poverty to be a divinity, on account of the mischiefs it preserved people from, and the goods it produced; but Lucan, calls it the mother of great men; and Horace says, that to this deity, the Romans owed the virtues of a Curius, and a Camillus. Aristophanes the Greek, erred much in his description, when he represented her as a savage fury, always ready to commit acts of desperation. These extraordinary furies, are much more common among the rich, than the poor, although it is true, that they rage with the greatest violence, in such poor people as have been formerly rich; at least, during the time they are in the noviciate state of their misfortunes.

SECT. X.

XXXIX. I would not have it be understood, that by the eulogium I have just ended on poverty, I mean to speak of absolute poverty, but of the relative; not of the state of beggary, where people are in want of what is precisely needful; but of that limited moderation, which administers to nature, no more than what is absolutely necessary, and what her wants demand; and that, at the expence of bodily labour. In truth, when I speak of beggars, I am at a loss what to say, or what decision to make concerning them. On the one hand, I see them suffer great inconveniences, and on the other, I see many people betake themselves to that way of life, who could earn their living by their labour, and who prefer going from door to door, to working in the field, or even to leading an idle life in an alms-house. Henricus Cornelius Agrippa, in his Book on the Vanity of the Sciences, says of those who go about pretending to occult science, that they would not change their condition, for that of nobility; and I believe he says right.

XL. All those voluntary poor, who are not so in the gospel sense, and for that reason, not comprehended in the benediction of Christ, are the pests of the states they inhabit, or where they strole about. They live well, not only without being of the least advantage, but are even an injury to the community. Like the ants, they are serviceable to themselves only, and a nuisance in the place where they make their nests, and where they run about. For which reason, they are not tolerated in any republic, that is governed by the maxims of good policy.

XLI. Disabled or impotent beggars, are legitimate creditors of our compassion. There is notwithstanding, great difference among those of this class. Those who are afflicted with habitual disorders, it cannot be denied, are very miserable, and especially if they do not sweeten their toil, with a due resignation to the divine will; but if they do, they will become the most happy, or those, who fall within our Saviour’s description of the most fortunate. The disabled by the loss of a limb, or by a defect in the organization of parts of their bodies, if they have a tolerable share of ingenuity, and have the art of begging with address, fare admirably; and not a few of them, have left behind at their deaths decent sums of money. Those who are ill-favoured, and ugly, find it difficult to subsist, especially, if nastiness in their persons, is joined to the deformity of their bodies. The error into which people fall, in the ordinary distribution of charity in this particular, is great, they being apt to deal out their bounty with an unequal hand. The beggar, who has a pleasing and moving way of painting his distress, is relieved by almost every one, and more especially if he has a good countenance, and looks clean in his shabby dress. There is scarce any body who does not shun and loath the ill-favoured and driveling poor: but we ought to remember, that Christ our Lord, is as much the representative of the one, as of the other; and as a Redeemer, is rather inclined to favour those of the most displeasing and despicable aspect: thus Isaias describes him in his most sacred passion, Non est species ei, neque decor: and a little lower, Quasi absconditus vultus ejus, & despectus. And that christian piety should not despise, or avoid those who are afflicted with loathsome diseases, the same Prophet compares our Saviour to the lepers, Nos putavimus eum quasi leprosum.

XLII. But without having recourse to so high a motive, natural reason will instruct us sufficiently, that we should not only distribute equally, but exceed in our donations, to those who are deformed and of an unhappy aspect, because these last experience the most sufferings, and are in the greatest necessity. The others, as I observed before, will never want any body to assist them with more than they stand in need of. The first require pity to be exerted in their favour with all its force, although their ungrateful appearance should strike us with horror. And I protest for myself, the alms which the narrowness of my fortune will permit me to bestow, is distributed, much more in favour of those of a disgusting and a forbidding aspect, than in favour of those who have a persuasive manner, and a winning outward appearance.

XLIII. But it is proper that I should repeat, that I did not intend to take into the comparison I have been making, the sort of poor I have just described; but those only, who procure themselves food, raiment, and shelter, by the sweat of their brow, proportioned to the necessities of nature, without advancing to any kind of exceeding. This is what I call humble fortune, and that which I judge to be at least equal to the exalted and brilliant, enjoyed by the opulent and great; and it seems to me, that I have sufficiently proved it so. But I judge also, that the condition of those who are placed in a middle station of life, is preferable to either of them. I mean such as possess a moderate income, and can go through life, without experiencing the pinchings of the one state, or the troubles incident to the want of accommodations of the other.

SECT. XI.

XLIV. I have hitherto treated of the happiness of men, by making an estimate of it, according to their situations or conditions of life; abstracted from any particular accidents, that may intervene or occur to individuals of both sorts, both high and low; there being no doubt but humble fortune, is also exposed to terrible reverses and mortifying disgusts, although not so frequently as the exalted.

XLV. But if I am asked, whom I repute absolutely happy or unhappy among mortals? With respect to the happy, I answer with a sentence of the great Chancellor Bacon, in his book entitled Interiora Rerum: where he says, I judge those to be happy, whose mode of living is proportioned to their genius or inclination: Felices dixerim, quorum indoles naturalis cum vitæ suæ genere congruit: a decision, worthy of the superior talents of that incomparable Englishman. I think, notwithstanding, there should be some limitation added to the sentence, which is, that the genius or inclination should not be a vicious one, for in that case the person would be always unhappy. The ambitious man, for example, although he finds himself in the occupation of high posts, is ever restless and anxious to rise to others still higher. The covetous man, even when he is overloaded with riches, labours and toils to add fresh treasures to his heap. The opulent glutton fills himself with meat and drink, but he also fills himself with diseases, which afterwards, turn all he has eaten and drunk to bitterness.

XLVI. With the limitation I have mentioned, I esteem the sentence a very true one. Temporal conveniences are all relative, and there is as much variance in the genius of men with respect to the application of them, as there is in their inclinations with respect to the food they fancy. What one esteems good, another thinks bad. God only is good, and savory to all men. This man disdains the lot, which that adores; and one grasps the thing, which another despises. Cæsar, when he was going to Spain, in his passage over the Alps, came to a very poor little village, where one of his companions, in a conversation which turned on the misery of the inhabitants, asked another sneeringly, if he thought these Barbarians also, had their questions and disputes, about who should command and govern. To which Cæsar replied quickly, saying, “I assure you, I had much rather be the first man in this village, than the second at Rome.” The learned Fleming Nicholas Clenard, went over to Africa, with an intention of learning Arabic, and remained two years in the kingdom of Fez, from whence he wrote often to his friends; and in his letters assured them, that he never was in a place, the customs of which suited so well with his genius, for this reason only, because in that kingdom, they had not such a multitude of laws, nor were their litigations so prolix, as in Europe; all disputes being instantly determined by the magistrate in a summary way. This method suited well with the disposition of Clenard, who abhorred extremely, the endless windings and turnings of processes in our tribunals. George Paschio, relates of him in his Book, de Novis Inventis, though what he says is not true, that on this account only, he left his own country and went to live in Fez. To this it may be replied, that it appears from the testimony of many authors, his return to Spain was voluntary; from whence, after teaching languages some time in the University of Salamanca, he went to the Court of Lisbon, where he was engaged as a tutor to the Prince of Portugal, brother of King John the Third.

XLVII. This great variety in the genius and dispositions of men, and not the platonic love of their country, is the true cause why many find themselves satisfied in miserable and unpleasant regions, and refuse to leave them for others more happily situated. Ovid having observed, that some Scythians, who were brought to Rome, never missed an opportunity of flying back to their own steril bleak country, which was the place of their nativity, attributes their doing so to an occult affection for home, (that he himself, with all his explanatory powers, could not hit upon the explanation of,) which, like a sympathetic faculty, or magnetic virtue, attracts every man to his own country, and at last leaves it undefined, with a sort of declaration, that he does not know what it is:

Nescio qua natale solum dulcedine cunctos

Tangit, & immemores non sinit esse sui.

Quid melius Roma? Scythico quid frigore pejus?

Huc tamen ex illa barbarus urbe fugit.

XLVIII. It is owing to none of all this, nor was it the effect of a mysterious magic, which charms and enchants men to be fond of their own country, which induced the Scythians to leave the soft habitations of Rome, for the frozen regions of Scythia; for we every day see men, who to improve their fortunes leave their native homes, sometimes never to return again; but it does not follow from thence, that they cease to love their country. The place where I write this abounds in such examples. The true reason of this political phænomenon is, that the mode of the Scythians living in their own country, was proportioned and suited to their natural genius and disposition. The same thing happens with respect to the Laplanders, a Northern nation, situated between Norway, Sweden, and Russia, on the coasts of the Frozen Sea. These Barbarians live in a continual state of war, with an immense number of bears and wolves, and in a country full of lakes, and almost always covered with snow. Many of them at various times have been brought to Germany; but notwithstanding they were well accommodated, and had a good maintenance assigned them, there never was one, who, when an opportunity offered, did not fly back to his own country.

XLIX. True temporal felicity, consists, in attaining that state or mode of life, which the genius or inclination of a man prompts him to wish or desire. Conveniences with respect to the soul, may be compared to clothes with respect to the body, it not being possible to bring those, which in appearance are best made, to suit well with, or to fit every shape.

L. There are however some of such flexible tempers, that they can accommodate themselves to every kind of fortune, and be content to live within the limits of its extension; some dispositions of soft wax, who at will, can conform themselves in such a manner, that every thing sits easy on them. Nothing inquiets them, because the softness of their texture gives way to every impulse. They enlarge and contract themselves, in proportion to the limits of the walk which is allowed them. They rise without fatigue, and they descend without violence. In their own docility, they find the honey, which edulcorates every sort of acid. They are of so happy a temperament, that provided they don’t want what is absolutely necessary, they are contented in every station. The wheel of their mind is concentrical with the wheel of their fortune, and let this last turn as it will, they with great facility turn themselves to correspond with it. They bear their fortune within themselves, let them move whichever way they will. It cannot be denied, that there are but few people of this sweet disposition; but it should be also confessed, that such are the truly happy, and that only the saints themselves can be more so, because they are either without the circle of the wheel, or placed in the center of it, so that its turnings can neither raise them to pride, nor precipitate them to contempt.

SECT. XII.

LI. We have said which are the absolutely happy: but who are the absolutely unhappy? Those, whose destiny have drawn them into a train of life, which is contrary to their genius or disposition. The violence done their inclination is constant, and therefore, their disgust is constant also. That which would be sweet to others, is bitter to them. Fortune could certainly, without adding fresh goods, make people more happy; it might be done at no more cost, than permitting them to change stations and employments, as from envying each other, when they have nothing to be envious of, springs the mischief. The bird from his cage, sees with envy, the stone mount and fly with freedom through the air, but the ascent is a greater violence to the stone, than the confinement to the bird. The poor man looks with envy on him he sees idolized on a throne. The Prince burns with impatience, because he cannot taste the liberty enjoyed by the poor person.

LII. Some are made unhappy by fortune, and there are others who are so by nature. Those I say, who in their own proper genius and tempers, find their greatest enemy; discontented men, who are pleased with nothing, but are always loathing what they are in present possession of; who although they should frequently change their fortunes, would find no other effect from it, than they would from changing their shirts, which after ten or twelve days wear would be ready to poison them. These people live in a continual opposition to the movements of Fortune, notwithstanding which, they are dragged on, and obliged to obey the impulse of the wheel, being compelled by force and violence; or like the stars, which are constrained to follow the movements of the sphere to which they are attached, although they are always endeavouring at a motion, opposite to that of the orb which agitates them. These are sickly souls, whose stomachs turn at all sorts of food, and there are not a few of such men in the world.

THE MOST REFINED POLICY.

SECT. I.

I. The center of all the political doctrine of Machiavel, is placed in that cursed maxim of his, that in the application of temporal means, the semblance or appearance of virtue is useful; real virtue, or virtue itself, is an obstacle. From this point issues forth, in right lines, the poison, to the whole circumference of that pernicious system. All the world abominates the name of Machiavel, and almost all the world are his followers. Although, to speak the truth, the practice of the world is not taken from the doctrine of Machiavel; but the doctrine of Machiavel, is rather taken from the practice of the world. This depraved genius taught, in his writings, that which he had studied in men. The world was the same before Machiavel, which it is at present, and they deceive themselves greatly, who think, that the ages continued to grow worse, as they continued to succeed one another. The golden age never existed but in the imaginations of the poets; the happiness they feign to have prevailed in it, was enjoyed by only one man, and one woman, Adam and Eve; and continued so short a space of time, that so far from lasting an age, according to many fathers, it did not endure an entire day.

II. You need only examine history, both sacred and profane, to be informed, that the policy of the antients was not better than that of the moderns; and I for my part, am inclined to think it was worse; for they scarce knew any other road to the temple of Fortune, than that which was either laid open by violence, or fabricated by deceit. Good faith and friendship, lasted as long as people found it their interest to preserve them. Religion and justice, served as footstools to the idol of convenience. Ovid and Aulus Gellius relate, that when Tarquin resolved to build the great temple of the capitol to the honour of Jupiter, he demolished, in order to make room for it, the temples of many inferior Gods, who were all obliged to give way to Jupiter; but the God Terminus, or the patron of interest and convenience, refused to cede or make way for Jupiter himself, so he maintained his ground, and his statue kept its place in the capitol, jointly with that of Jupiter:

Terminus, ut veteres memorant, conventus in urbe

Restitit, & magno cum Jove templa tenet.

III. This fiction discovers to us the following truth, that the object of men’s pursuits is their own convenience, which they are ever strenuous and anxious to promote; and this is the deity, who never cared to cede or give place to Jupiter himself, for from the most antient times, ut veteres memorant, interest has ever disputed the precedence with religion.

IV. Polybius lived a great while ago, and in his time they had not only one, but many Machiavels, who taught, that the management of public affairs was impracticable, without the aid of deceit and treachery: Non desunt, qui in tam crebro usu doli mali necessarium eum esse dicant ad publicarum rerum administrationem (Lib. 13. Histor.) Although you may see in Lucan, the fundamental doctrine of Machiavel more strongly expressed than it is in the above sentence, by the abandoned Phocion, in the speech he made to Ptolemy King of Egypt, to prevail with him, in violation of gratitude, and in breach of his plighted word, to take away the life of the great Pompey;

Sidera terra

Ut distant, & flamma mari sic utile recto.

V. This is precisely saying, that virtue is always in a state of warfare with private utility, and that to negotiate convenience, it is necessary to abandon justice. A little after he adds, that he who resolves to be merciful and just, should banish himself from courts, for there, vice only is patronized:

Exeat aula

Qui vult esse pius.

VI. This is the creed, not of a few people only, but of the world at large, and it has been so in all times. What Machiavel, Hobbes, and other infamous politicians have inserted in their works, is the same which you hear every day in juntos of people; to wit, that virtue is neglected, that vice is caressed and exalted; that truth and justice are banished from courts; and that flattery and lying are the wings, with which people ascend to high stations. But this I suppose to be an error, and that it ought to be classed in the catalogue of common errors, and in my reasoning on this subject, I shall undertake to demonstrate that it is one, by informing mankind, that contrary to the opinion of the world, the most refined, and the most safe policy, is that which is founded in justice and truth.

SECT. II.

VII. I shall begin with confessing, that those who aspire at being usurpers, can never attain their ends, but by wicked means, because to the goal of insolence, there is no road through the land of virtue. But who will say these are subtil politicians? They are the most blind and mistaken of all, because they pursue a road, that is all over drenched with blood. Very few have travelled through it, who before they arrived at the point in view, have not lost their lives in a violent and an ignominious manner. You hardly see any thing in this whole rout, but men hanging on gibbets, carcasses extended on scaffolds, limbs torn off by wild beasts, and the ashes of victims, who have been sacrificed to the vengeance of the party offended. You may find here or there one, who, by pursuing this road, has at the end of his career attained sovereignty. But is the accidental success of one or two lucky people, a counterbalance to so horrid and bloody a spectacle? Who will be encouraged to trust himself in a sea, strewed with rocks, and covered with wrecks and dead bodies, because in the course of many ages, three or four vessels which have navigated it, have arrived safe at their desired port? We should add, to the hazard of shipwreck, the toils and terrors of the navigation; for it is certain, that those who navigate a sea of danger and horror, before their catastrophe, endure a tempest within their souls. Those who from private people aspire at being sovereigns, lead a life of perpetual alarms and anxiety, in order afterwards to die with ignominy: so that their toil and their danger remain cemented to their fortune, even after they have accomplished or succeeded in their undertaking; for all tyrants live in terror, and rarely or never die in their beds. But how can such as these be considered even as middling politicians? Policy, in the sense we here use the word, means the art of negotiating one’s own convenience. But what convenience can a man find, by travelling through a laborious life to a violent death? I say, that so far from contemplating such people as able politicians, we ought to esteem them consummate fools.

VIII. There are however, some among them, who by calling them fools, you do not say enough of; as they give cause to have themselves pronounced raving mad men; such, as when they see they are advancing to a lofty precipice, will attempt to scale the height; people, emulous of vain exaltations, who that they may shine on high, consent to be reduced to ashes, and who prefer the shortest life elevated in air, to a long duration on the humble earth. These take to themselves the motto of Saavedra, dum luceam peream; provided they shine, they are indifferent about being consumed. Such was the ambitious Agrippina, who, when the Chaldeans told her her son would obtain the empire, but that he would take away her life, answered spiritedly, Occidat dum imperet. Provided he reigns, I don’t mind his murdering me. Such again was Anna Bolen, who, finding herself condemned to death for an adultress, said proudly, They may do what they will with me, but they can’t deprive me of having been Queen of England; from whence may be inferred, that she esteemed it a preferable lot, to have been a Queen, and die with indignity in the flower of her age, than to enjoy a long life of honour as a private person. We should look with an eye of pity on geniuses of this character, not only with respect to their misfortunes, but to their delusion also; and we should degrade those from politicians to mad men, who knowing their danger, run headlong into it.

IX. I will go so far as to acknowledge, that some iniquitous politicians, have experienced the gale of fortune favourable for them, even to the day of their deaths. Philip, King of Macedon, and father of Alexander, was fortunate in almost all his undertakings; for which he was as much indebted to his craft and deceptions, as to his arms; and in his conquests, was equally favoured by Mercury and Mars; and if his injustice to Pausanias, in not caring to punish the abominable act of turpitude, which Atalus, one of Philip’s captains, had violently perpetrated on him, had not irritated that generous youth to such a degree, that he murdered the unjust Prince with his fists, it might have been said, that none of his wicked deeds had ever been prejudicial to his fortune. Cornelius Scylla manifested, that he professed no regard to any religion, by the havock he made among the Grecian temples, which he accompanied with such piccant terms of contempt and derision of their deities, as they were well deserving of; and though he was extremely able in the conduct of war, he was not less so in political subtilties; which made his enemy Carbon say of him, that in the person of one man, he found himself engaged with a lion and a fox, but that he feared the fox more than the lion. His cruelty exceeded the bounds of barbarity, notwithstanding which, he was wonderfully successful. He first triumphed over the enemies of the republic, and afterwards over his personal ones. Nor did his putting thousands of people to death violently, who while he was dictator were all executed by his order, excite a sufficient degree of public or private hatred, to occasion his being treated in the same way; but his natural death was worse than any violent one; for he died eat up by lice, in consequence of all his flesh by degrees, being converted to those vermin.

X. England furnishes us in later times with two wayward, but successful politicians. The first was Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester[1], the favourite of Queen Elizabeth, and so great a favourite, as to cause his entertaining hopes, that she would give him her hand in marriage, which was the occasion of one of the most wicked acts of his life, for he murdered his wife to remove the obstacle to his attaining so high an honour. Fortune always cherished and continued faithful to him, making him to the day of his death, master of the affections of that Queen, whom he held in chains, by the sprightliness of his wit, and his fertile and domestic talents of pleasing, as well as by his genteel and graceful person; and he had the presumption, when he found he could not obtain her for his wife, to solicit from her the last personal favours. The second was Oliver Cromwell, who, under the title of Protector, was tyrant of England, and principal actor in the death of Charles the First. An attempt so horrible, from the circumstance of his own subjects having erected themselves into his Judges, and having instituted process, and pronounced sentence with all the formalities which are ordinarily used with respect to common criminals, is such an example, that the world till then, had never seen the like. The insult was made greater, by their affecting to elude insulting him, under the pretence, that they proceeded according to law. The English nation so far debased themselves by that act, that the person who was then hangman of London, and who could not be prevailed on, either by threats or promises to execute the sentence, appeared to be the most noble spirited man in the kingdom. Cromwell, the author of such an enormous piece of wickedness, and of many other inferior ones, reigned afterwards, not only absolute master of Great Britain for the residue of his life, but, by dint of his incomparable sagacity, came to be the arbiter of all Europe.

XI. There are these examples, but you will find very few others, of perverse politicians, who have been always successful. But what shall we infer from such examples? Shall we esteem those fine politicians who have pursued the same rout? no, we should rather call them absurd and insensible ones. It shews great want of judgment, to found hopes and expectations upon one or two singular events, in preference to what commonly happens in the ordinary course of things. Because some one has found a vein of gold by digging the ground, would it not be madness in me to occupy myself, and spend all my time in opening wells through the bowels of the earth? for if two or three have found the philosopher’s stone, (though I much doubt if any one ever did) the number of those are infinite, who by searching after it, have wasted their substance, and lost their lives. In these very rare chances, on which imprudent ambitious people found their expectations, there likewise intervene other very rare accidents, and that these should all concur to favour him, is more than any prudent man can expect. Those few successful people were also assisted with very uncommon natural talents, by dint of which, if they had directed their steps through the paths of virtue, they would have gone on smoothly, and would have arrived at happiness with much greater ease and satisfaction to themselves, than they did in the vicious course they pursued; and this corresponds with the observation Titus Livius makes on the elder Cato; In illo viro tantum robur corporis, & animi fuit, ut quocumque loco natus esset, fortunam sibi facturus videretur.

SECT. IV.

XII. But abstracted from the innumerable craigs and stumbling blocks in the way of ambition, when it advances to its object by the road of infamy; if its views are very high, the best and most safe policy is, to pursue the pretension by the way of justice and truth. Lord Chancellor Bacon, who was as great a politician as he was a philosopher, divided policy into the high and the low. The exalted or sound policy, consists in the knowledge of disposing means for the attainment of ends, without deviating, either from truth, equity, or honour. The low or mean policy, consists in the art of attaining ends, by the means of fictions, flattery and sophistries; the first is proper and natural to men, in whom a generous and an upright heart, is joined to a clear understanding and a solid judgment. In fact, says the author we have cited, almost all eminent politicians have been of this character: sane ubique reperias homines rerum tractandarum peritissimos, omnes ferè candorem, ingenuitatem, & veracitatem in negotiis præsetulisse. The second sort is composed of men, of bastard dispositions or understandings: or of such whose understandings are so faintly enlightened, that they can discern no other road which will lead them to their desired end, but that of deceit; or their dispositions are so depraved, that they embrace dishonesty without reluctance, if they conceive it will be useful to them; or I am rather inclined to think, that both their dispositions and understandings are vitiated.

XIII. The representation of both these sorts of politicians, may be seen as in two mirrors, by viewing the characters of the two Emperors, Augustus and Tiberius, who were immediate successors to each other. Augustus was open, candid, generous, steady in his friendships, faithful to his promises, and free from all deceit. In the whole course of his life, which was a very long one, there does not appear the least treachery; why do I say treachery? not even the slightest fallacy. Tiberius, on the contrary, was deceitful, false, gloomy, and dissembling. His looks and his breast, were never in concord, and his words were always opposite to his designs; which of the two was the best politician? Tacitus decides the question, when he extols the perspicuity of Augustus, and remarks on the caution of Tiberius; in the last he recognizes high dissimulation, and in the first supreme ability, which induced Mucianus, by way of animating Vespasian against Vitellius to say: Non adversus Augusti acerrimam mentem, neque adversus Tiberii cautissimam senectutem insurgimus.

XIV. I should always esteem him the best politician, who, contented with the little or much which Heaven has bestowed on him, avoids interfering with, or engaging in the traffic and bustle of the world; in the same sense, we understand the saying, that the best thing which can be done with dice, is to forbear playing with them; but we must except the case of filling a public office, the business of which must be attended to. The following admirable distich, of I don’t know what antient, seems addressed to all private people:

Mitte superba pati fastidia, spemque caducam

Despice, vive tibi cum moriare tibi.

XV. But I would not have it understood from what I have been saying, that I approve of those they commonly call good men, who are in all respects useless members of society, to whom may be applied the Italian proverb, Tanto buon che val niente. They are so good, that they are good for, or worth nothing. Much less do I approve of those narrow-minded geniuses, who care for nobody but themselves. It is meanness of spirit, says the excellent Bacon, for a man to direct all his attention to his own convenience, and to make that the centre of all his happiness: Centrum plane ignobile est actionum hominis cujusquam commodum proprium. Man is a sociable animal, not only by the force of social laws; but the obligation of assisting other men when it is in our power, is a debt we owe to our own nature, and more especially to our friend, and our neighbour, but most of all, to our King and our country. Pliny says, that those who are disposed to acts of beneficence, and to administer ease and comfort to other men, have something divine in them: Deus est mortali juvare mortalem. Those whose whole care or attention is confined to themselves only, scarce deserve the name of human beings.

SECT. V.

XVI. What reason dictates is, that we should neither officiously engage in, nor obstinately refuse entering into business, provided we find in ourselves talents, that are apt and proper for it. If a person can make his fortune in this line, although he does not solicit employments, he should not refuse accepting them; because the public is much interested, in having places of trust filled with able and good-intentioned men. But upon a supposition, that the doctrine we have laid down on this head, is not suited to men of such moderation, but rather applicable to those who are somewhat affected with the malady of ambition, and who are not fond of reading documents of morality, but had rather study political ones: I say upon this supposition, let us proceed in following the parallel of the two courses, by which a man may either make his fortune, or improve that which he is already possessed of.

XVII. All that a person can reasonably desire, may be attained without deviating from the path of honour. A man of a clear head, accompanied with perspicuity and prudence, will always find a way to arrive at the goal of his pretensions, without inclining the line of rectitude and honesty, towards the curve of deceit. Fidelity in friendship, and sincerity in behaviour, are so far from being prejudicial, that they afford great assistance; because with these endowments, he will gain the confidence and good-will of such as can lend their hand to raise him, and of those, who may be useful as instruments in helping him forward. By being disinterested and a lover of justice, he will acquire the esteem and affection of many, and the veneration of all men. To be open-hearted, and to communicate with confidence in all matters, except such as prudence dictates to you to conceal, or else, such as are confided to you under the seal of secrecy, by those with whom you have friendly intercourse, have a most powerful attraction. And although this behaviour may sometimes occasion disgust, to here and there a person of a different cast of mind; that disadvantage would be doubly compensated for, by the good opinion, that person would entertain of such a one when he is persuaded, that he is a man of sincerity; for the disgust would pass away, and the good opinion would remain. In fact, these transparent souls, when discretion is combin’d with the purity of their dispositions, are those, who ascend to the greatest height with the least fatigue. The theatre of nature in this particular, is an emblem of the theatre of fortune. The diaphonous and brilliant bodies, are those which occupy the most elevated stations in the fabric of the globe; the gloomy, opake, and obscure ones, the lowest.

XVIII. He who finds himself aided with an apt or ready prudence, an upright intention, and a firm loyalty, together with the qualities we have before enumerated, has no need to be always considering and contriving means to better his affairs. Apelles, who in every other instance celebrated the famous painter Protogenes, pointed out a defect in him, which was, that he never knew when to have done finishing a picture; this shews, says Pliny, that too much diligence many times is prejudicial: Documentum memorabile nocere sæpe nimiam diligentiam. When our politician finds himself on the theatre where his talents become conspicuous, expedients occur to him without much thought or study. An officious left-handed competitor may happen to dispute the palm with him, but it will be at the expence of a great deal of additional toil and labour. The cunning snake may arrive at the same eminence, to which the generous eagle aspires to mount, but with how much fatigue? The character and properties of a low politician, cannot be better displayed, than under the figure of a snake, the side way and oblique motion with which he goes on, points out the deceit he proceeds with; his breast fix’d to the earth, shews his adherence to self-interest; the various inflexions and foldings of his body, are descriptive of his crooked soul; and his conceal’d venom, denotes the evil intention he hides. O serpent! what pains does it cost you to better your situation, only because thou art a snake; while at the same time, the eagle with a careless and an easy flight, ascends to the top of Olympus.

SECT. VI.

XIX. This is not the greatest inequality discernible; the most striking consists, in the different security consequent to the one and the other mode of conduct. The left-handed politician, both while he is seeking his fortune, and even after he has obtained it, is exposed to great danger. It is impossible, or next to impossible, that the artifices and mal-practices of a man beset and watched by many rivals, should not be discovered; and when these are once laid open, as this was the cement of the whole fabric, its being reduced to ruins will not be delayed an instant. It is very difficult says father Famianus Estrada, for him to avoid a sudden fall, who stands on slippery ground, and is press’d upon by many people: Difficile est in lubrico stare diu, quem plures impellunt. This is the state of a deceitful politician; he walks through a very slippery path, and is always upon false ground. The people who labour to pull him down consist, of all those who either envy his fortune, or abhor his evil deeds; which is as much as to say, he has for enemies, both the good and the bad. How can a man so circumstanced, support himself for any length of time? he must be overthrown, and, as it frequently happens, may in his fall be dashed to pieces: an energetic description of this is sung by Claudian:

————Jam non ad culmina rerum

Injustos crevisse queror: tolluntur in altum

Ut lapsu graviore ruant.

XX. The upright politician, on the contrary, meets no dangers on his road, and has nothing to fear at his journey’s end. He is the more safe, the more the grounds of his conduct are displayed. He has fewer enemies than the other, because they can consist of none but bad people. In case he is overthrown, his fall will not be precipitate and violent, but soft and easy. His innocence will at least preserve his life; and the worst that can befal him, is being reduced to his former state; but it most commonly happens, that evil-intentioned people do not succeed in their attacks upon him, and that the shafts of their malice recoil and wound themselves, which oftentimes, affords honour and triumph to the party accused. The history of a politician of integrity, although an infidel by his religion, occurs to me at present, which is very applicable to the subject we are treating of. The relation is taken from Tavernier’s Voyages, and it being new and pleasant, I shall give a brief recital of it.

XXI. Mahomed Alibeg, high steward to the King of Persia, was, from being a poor shepherd, raised to that elevated post, in the beginning of the last century. The King, one day when he was hunting, met with him in the mountains, where he was playing on his flute, and attending his flocks. For his amusement, he asked him some questions, and, taken with the vivacity and acuteness of the lad’s answers, he carried him with him to his palace; where having him instructed, the rectitude of his heart, and the clearness of his understanding, soon gained the affection and confidence of the King, who advanc’d him rapidly from charge to charge, till he at last placed him in the office of high steward. His inflexible integrity, and his aversion to bribes, a thing very rare among the Mahometans, raised him powerful enemies; but finding him so thoroughly possessed of the confidence of his master, they could not venture to act in a hostile way against him during the King’s life. After his death, when his successor who was a young man mounted the throne, they suggested to him, that Mahomet had subtracted vast sums from the Royal Treasury. The Prince ordered him to make up his accounts in fifteen days, to which Mahomet replied with intrepidity, that so much delay was not necessary, and that if his Majesty would be pleased to go with him immediately to the Treasury Office, he would there deliver them to him. The King went, followed by all the accusers, but he found every thing in such fine order, and the books of accounts so exactly and accurately stated, with which all other circumstances corresponded, that nobody had a word to say. From thence the King proceeded to Mahomet’s house, where he could not help admiring the moderation of the furniture, and the poverty of the decorations. One of the enemies of the favourite observing the door of a room shut, and secured with three strong chains, hinted it to the King, who asked Mahomet what he had got shut up in that room. Sir, answered Mahomet, here I keep my own things, all you have hitherto seen belongs to your Majesty; and having said this he opened the door. The King entered the room, and after looking all round, saw nothing but the following particulars hanging on nails drove into the wall. A leathern doublet, a wallet, a shepherd’s crook, and a flute. The King was viewing them with astonishment, when Mahomet throwing himself at his feet, said, Sir, this is the habit, and these are the goods which I was possessed of, when the King your father brought me to court. These were what belonged to me then, and these are what I have now, and these only I claim as my own; and as they are so, I supplicate with the greatest submission, that your Majesty will permit me to enjoy them, by returning to the mountains from whence my fortune brought me forth. Here the King, unable to refrain from tears, embraced the generous favourite; and not content with this mark of his approbation, immediately stript off his royal robes, and ordered Mahomet to wear them, which in Persia, is esteemed the highest honour a King can confer on a subject. The result of all this, was, that Mahomet during his whole life after, preserved the firm confidence and love of his Prince. What pity it is, that this disinterestedness, this nobleness of mind, this rectitude, this moderation, should be all lodged in an infidel!

SECT. VII.

XXII. The obstacle in the way of an honest politician, is the difficulty of treating with men in power upon the principles of truth and candour. Flattery is a door, that opens very wide for the introduction to favour, but as it is very low also, no man of a generous mind can enter in at it. I have heard all the world declare they abhorred flatterers, but I never saw any one who did not cherish them. This proceeds, from every man rating his own talents at more than their true value, and because the true language of a flatterer corresponds with the good opinion the person flattered entertains of himself, who does not look upon him who pays the adulation as a flatterer, but as a man of abilities, and one who forms right judgments of things: but allowing him to be so prudent, as even to undervalue, instead of over-rating his own talents, he might still lie open to the practices of a flatterer; as for instance, the flatter’d person, might be induced to attribute the excessive high opinion the flatterer professed to entertain of him, to the excess of his love and esteem for him, and all that is represented through the microscope of love, is greatly magnified in the imagination; and in this case, although he does not credit the applause, he esteems the affection. By these means, flattery becomes a universal net, which catches and entangles fish of every kind.

XXIII. This method then, if managed with art, for there are some flatterers, who are fulsome and surfeiting, is sufficiently effectual and secure to practise with, but is at the same time most vile and pernicious, and therefore should never be made use of, nor should the truth ever be deviated from. But truth is disgusting! no matter, prudence will find seasonings to make it palatable; and although it be true, that by using these means, an honest man will be longer in ingratiating himself into the good opinion of a great person, than a sordid flatterer, still, he will in the end obtain a more solid and lasting estimation with him. The first thing to be observed by him, is never to give his opinion with asperity, nor ever to give it at all but at proper opportunities. The rigidity of undeceiving people with respect to their errors, should be softened by the gentleness of respect; and if reverence and sweetness of manner, are used as vehicles to convey the proposition, they will cause it to be well received. It would be better still, to refrain intirely from doing what we have just mentioned, if you could with propriety be excused from speaking your sentiments. These qualities were celebrated by King Theodoricus, in a favourite of his: Sub genii nostri luce intrepidus quidem; sed reverenter adstabat, opportune tacitus, necessarie copiosus. (Casiodor. lib. 5. Epist. 3.) In cases that admit of waiting for favourable opportunities, be watchful and attentive to make use of them, when the mind of the great man is happily tempered, and when he is well disposed to be undeceived, and to receive information; the choice of these must be confided to discretion, which best understands these matters, and is the best guide in such cases:

Sola viri molles aditus, & tempora noras.

XXIV. In the second place, you should never, in opposition to the opinion of a great man, be stiff or positive in maintaining your own sentiments, because this is difficult to be done without giving offence. The philosopher Favorinus answered wisely to some, who blamed him for giving way in a dispute he had with the Emperor Adrian, by saying to them, it was proper and necessary to give way to a man who commanded thirty legions.

XXV. Thirdly, you may sweeten the bitter of truth, with a species of engaging and modest condescension; which consists more in actions, than in words, I mean that it is contained in being obsequious, and expressing by your gestures, a disposition and desire to please; and these will have a notable effect in promoting attention to your advice, because they will create an opinion, that the instruction is the offspring of generous sincerity, and not of positive pride. I would not however have it understood, that the submission should be abject, or savour of meanness of spirit; but I had almost said, that with respect to superiors, submission is generally defended from the hazard of such an imputation. Dionysius, tyrant of Syracuse, having refused to grant a request which was made to him by Aristippus of Cyrene, he prostrated himself at his feet, and obtained what he asked. Some people reprehended the action, as beneath the dignity of a philosopher; to which Aristippus answered, “He that would be heard by Dionysius, must apply his mouth to his feet, for there his ears are placed.” The saying was pleasant, and I won’t determine whether or not the submission was excessive.

XXVI. I repeat my assurance, that by using these precautions, the open honest politician, will obtain a much higher degree of estimation in the mind of a great man, than the sly contemplative one. When he arrives at convincing the person who was before persuaded he was able, that he is candid also, he stands on sure ground. In consequence of his integrity, he may at times experience a few slights, but he will still continue to possess the confidence he has gained; as it happened to the Duke of Alva, with Philip the Second, when he sent the Duke to conquer Portugal. The king, before he set out, shewed him the slight of refusing to let him wait on him to take his leave, and at the same time confided to his management, an enterprize of such importance. On the contrary, the flatterer, although he in his ordinary conversation and deportment, is always pleasant and entertaining, still you will perceive, if his superior is a wary man, that such sort of talents do not introduce him deep into his esteem. Many people make use of flatterers, as men who are feverish use water; which although it may seem obnoxious to them, they gargle their throats with, but do not swallow it. Generally speaking, and to me the conclusion is infallible, that with an equal share of talents, the good, candid, faithful, grateful man, who is a lover of justice and equity, will make a greater fortune, and with more certainty, than he who is void of those qualities, or possessed of opposite ones.

SECT. VIII.

XXIX. But here I find myself pressed with an objection, which is pretended to be derived from common experience, to wit, that nothing is seen in the world but perverse people exalted, and virtuous ones cast down; that flattery and deceit ride triumphant; and that truth and candour lie groaning and oppressed. I answer first, that all this seems more like the voice of envy, than just observation founded on experience. I confess, that you hear these complaints at every turn; but who articulates them? not those who occupy places, for they would hardly speak against themselves; neither do virtuous neglected people utter them; for they are not apt to go about complaining, and troubling the world with their disappointments, neither do they snarl at, or envy the honours conferred on men in power, nor do they compliment themselves with being the only people who possess any degree of merit. Who are those then, that find themselves so neglected? none but the bad and incapable; such who from want of ability, and by their bad behaviour, have made themselves unworthy of all attention; these are the men, who accuse Fortune of partiality; and the angry and discontented people being very numerous, they make such a noise with their complaints, that the cries vociferated from their vitiated breasts, seem like the clamours of all the world. You may add to this, that as no man who arrives at obtaining power, can serve every one he sees in an inferior station, but only a few of them, all such then as do not partake of his beneficence, think he has made an unjust distribution of his favours; like the Cafres, they only worship God when he sends them fair weather, and are very angry with him when they have foul. The very people obliged, are apt to complain, because the favours bestowed on them, fall short of what they expected, or what they thought themselves entitled to. I can assert from my own experience, that having had intercourse with some of those persons who had been the artisans of their own fortune, I found them beyond comparison better men, than common fame had represented them to be.

XXVIII. Secondly, even though it should appear true, that the fortunate virtuous men are but few in number, I answer, nothing can be inferred from thence to contradict what we have asserted. If those are few who have made their fortunes by pursuing the paths of virtue, it is, because few have attempted it in that way. How can many arrive at a goal, which but few have set out on their rout to? It is certain, that men of sanctity of manners, or those who are truly virtuous, are never solicitous about ascending to high stations. They are like the stars, none of which attempt rising to a sphere superior to that in which God has placed them. Those who are not blessed with such solid virtue, but are endowed with the talents we have mentioned before, are the men we are about to treat of; and I say, that in all countries, such men are but few in number, though I will venture to assure those few, if they will apply themselves, that they will succeed and do their business. Shew me a single man of distinguished natural parts, and of a clear understanding, who is well intentioned, and has a firm and constant heart; who is courteous, faithful, and just; that has not better’d his fortune, if he has diligently endeavoured at it. Many of these, I mean, many in proportion to the number of them, are sought by fortune, even when they themselves seem to slight her; and although I may be possibly shewn some such, who have been reduced; still, for every one of this sort that can be instanced, I will venture to point out a hundred crooked left-handed politicians, who have been brought to poverty and misery, by their frauds, little tricks, and mean cunning.

XXIX. But I have not mentioned all, for I am firmly persuaded, that you will rarely meet with a man, to whom virtue has not been of use, even in point of temporal convenience; because, if the system of government, and the men in power are favourable to him, he is raised; if indifferent, he is respected; if adverse, he is at least not hated; even when the state is inflam’d by factions, the opposite party, if in power, although they do not confide employments to him, consider him as an exception to their resentment. There never was seen in the world a furor, equal to that of the Sicilians, when in their famous vespers, they cut the throats of the French; nor was there ever any nation so irritated against another; for their barbarity, carried them to rip open the bellies of all the Sicilian women they suspected were with child by Frenchmen. In this horrible massacre, they did not spare one of that nation who fell into their hands, except William de Porceleto, governor of the district of Calatafima, who was protected from the general rage, by the fame of his goodness. So certain is it, that the temple of virtue is the only asylum of public safety.

XXX. The noise and clamour that men of great abilities are neglected, and lie hid in corners, is a mere fable; and if they do not voluntarily hide themselves, totally void of truth, or if this is not the case, they are neglected, because to their great talents, there are annexed great defects. I have gone about and seen the world, but to this day, have not observed a man of distinguished abilities, (who was not blemished with glaring defects,) slighted and disregarded; however, as we ought in every instance to speak the truth, the esteem for him, has not always been in proportion to his degree of merit. Some maintain an opposite sentiment to that we have been advancing, but if you attend to them, they do not so much complain of other peoples’ slights and disappointments as of their own. With their tongues, they lament that men of talents are despised; in reality, they only grieve that those are despised who are void of them, which are themselves; and under the pretence of zeal for the public good, they vent their own private spleen. It is the vulgar artifice of people of extreme incapacity to censure the partial distribution of favours, and it has been remarked, that if one of these censurers ever ascended to what he aspired at, he immediately approved of all those measures of government, which he had before clamoured against; from whence it may be inferred, that all the merit he before lamented to have been trodden under foot, he considered as centered and collected together in his own person. I have seen some unworthy men exalted, but do not remember an instance of a great man without spot ever having been despised or contemned.

SECT. IX.

XXXI. It is now time for us to treat of the inconvenience of low policy. The celebrated Bacon, calls it the asylum of those, who for want of talents, are incapable of pursuing the sublime path of heroic policy: Quid si quis ad hunc judicii, & discretionis gradum ascendere non valeat, ei relinquitur tanquam tatissimum, ut sit rectus & dissimulator (de Inter. rer. cap. 6.). This maxim, coincides with that which Plutarch cites of the General Lysander. The Lacedæmonians remonstrated with him, that on account of his little faith and truth, he degenerated from Hercules whom they boasted being the descendants of. To which he answered wittily, alluding to the habit Hercules used to wear, that for want of the skin of a lion, he was obliged to make use of the skin of a fox.

XXXII. There are different degrees of low policy, some of which, are worse than others. The first, is that of dissimulation and craft. The second, is that of false appearances and lying. The third, is that of wickedness and insolence. The first, if it does not come in contact with the line of the second, is in the moral indifferent; but it is very difficult to pursue a course of craft and reserve, without being under the occasional necessity of telling many lies; because if a man is pressed with questions, silence, by being unfavourably interpreted with respect to the person questioned, is equivalent to, or makes as much against him, as a positive answer; and the gift of being ready in these streights with an ingenious come off, is bestowed on very few people.

XXXIII. An habitual dissimulation proceeds, partly from a defect in the understanding, and partly from the natural talents being vitiated. Those who cannot distinguish when it is proper to observe silence, nor when it is requisite, and when hazardous, to be open and explicit; upon a short reflection, either decide upon keeping silence totally; or else on all occasions, never to venture more than a very diminutive explanation; like blind people, who even when they are walking on plain ground, for fear of slipping, proceed with great caution. This in some, is more the effect of pusillanimity than the want of reflection, although they always mix one with the other; but be that as it will, they lead but a weary and unpleasant life; for wearing a padlock continually on the lips, is the same thing, as living with a heart which is ever imprisoned. Such people, are ever in dread that the secrets of their breasts should be laid open, or else, that some words which they have made use of, have already discovered them. They are destitute of the comfort of unbosoming to a friend, because all pusillanimous people are distrustful and suspicious; they scarce think any man sincere in friendship, or safe to put confidence in; they also make themselves unpleasant and disgusting companions, because they make a mystery of every thing; and the reciprocal communication of souls, being the sweetest correspondence among men, they are unhappy, because they cannot taste of this bliss; and they are disagreeable, because as far as it depends on them, they deprive other people of that happiness. We may add to this; that no prudent person confides in him who has confidence in no one; because such a man, is ever suspected of judging other people by himself. It also happens, that in consequence of his not communicating his designs to any one, those afford him no assistance, who might either be disposed, or have it in their power to serve him, for want of being acquainted with what he aims at. This was the case of Pompey, who although a daring warrior, was a timid politician. His intention was the same as Cæsar’s, that is, to rule the republic with an absolute sway. Cæsar succeeded in his scheme, because he attempted the thing openly. Pompey, by hiding his designs from his most affectionate friends, who were numerous; and by using occult artifices, and endeavouring to disturb the republic, in order that it might fall spontaneously into his hands, missed his aim; because his friends, being ignorant of what he intended, knew not how to apply their influence in assisting him. Tacitus comparing him with Marius and Sylla, says, Occultior non melior. For all these reasons, it appears very difficult, for men who are exceedingly deceitful to better their fortunes. At least, they will hardly ever owe their doing it to their genius.

SECT. X.

XXXV. The dealers in false pretences, and the men of cunning, compose the vulgar of a court, and are the most numerous part of population in the political world; but they who act upon these principles, follow a very dangerous tract, although it is the most beaten. Their deceptions are so manifold, that notwithstanding art and fortune should conspire to hide them, it is next to impossible that some will not appear. A fabric built on false ground, without the wind overturning it, will fall of itself. When a lying genius is once found out, the least inconvenience consequent on the discovery is, his never being believed any more. Tiberius, on account of his having been so often detected in falsehoods, was not credited, even when he spoke the truth: Vero quoque, & honesto fidem demissit, says Tacitus.

XXXV. Not only lies detected are unfortunate, but they are likewise sometimes so, on account of their being thought true; for in this case, they produce an effect, quite opposite to the purpose they were intended to answer. Nero wanted to murder his mother Agrippina in such a manner, that her death should appear accidental, and not design’d. For this purpose, he caused a ship in which Agrippina was to embark, to be constructed so artfully, that the part where his mother was to be lodged, could be easily separated from the other, and let the unfortunate Princess drop into the Sea. The purpose was not answered, because the part did not separate as was intended, but only open’d, so as to cause great dread of shipwreck in those of the party. Aceronia, a lady who attended Agrippina, when the alarm happened, ran out and called aloud for assistance, saying, she was Agrippina, the mother of the Emperor. The darkness of the night favoured the deceit, and those who knew Nero’s intention, believing she was Agrippina, came quickly to her; not with a design to assist, but to demolish the unfortunate Aceronia, which they did, upon a supposition that they were doing an agreeable piece of service to Nero.

XXXVI. Lying, is proper and natural to base and ambitious people, who by mixing flattery with their lies, become vile and contemptible to the last degree; and their doing this, makes them the slaves of all mankind. They submit to every one, and humble themselves to every one, and treat all the world as their masters; some because they should do them service, and others because they should not injure them; like the savages of Virginia, who not only worship the stars because they give them light, and promote fertility, but they worship all they fear likewise; not only the devil whom they most dread, but also fire, clouds, horses, and great guns are venerated as deities by them. They have work enough upon their hands who serve so many masters, for over and above the labour which liars find in obeying such a number of directors, they are alarm’d and fatigu’d with the risques they run, for their practices of deceiving being once discover’d, all mankind abhor them.

SECT. XI.

XXXVII. We come now to the quintessence of the venom of ambition, to those pests of society, abandoned politicians; to those concealed Atheists, those devils in disguise, who without the least scruple to attain their base purposes, practise the most deformed vices; who to lay their hands on benefits, set their feet on, and trample upon the laws; who with the fine accomplishments, of perjury, ingratitude, and treachery, are galanting fortune night and day. These, of all politicians are the most blind, because the road by which they think to arrive at happiness and honour, leads them directly to misfortune and disgrace. Who, by such sort of means, was ever made happy? Machiavel himself, the grand master of this infernal policy, passed the last years of his life in extreme misery; and he would long before his dissolution happened have died on a gibbet, if he had not denied in the torture, his participation in the conspiracy against the family of the Medicis. If one or two, have happened to raise themselves by the dint of wicked practices, their elevation may be compared to that of Simon Magus, who was lifted up, that his legs might be crushed to pieces with his fall. Sejanus, in consequence of a similarity in their habits and dispositions, gained such a degree of favour with Tiberius, and came to have such an ascendant over him, that he directed and control’d him with an absolute sway. And what did all these smiles of fortune end in? Nothing more, than that no culprit was ever put to death with greater ignominy. Petronius Arbiter, by flattering the lascivious disposition of Nero, arrived at being superintendant of his turpitudes, or regulator of his brutalities; so that in all which related to criminal pleasures, the Prince obeyed his subject; nor would he taste of any thing, but what Petronius prescribed; notwithstanding which, the criterion arrived, when Nero condemned him to death; which Petronius anticipated, by opening his veins. It is very remarkable that out of all the people Nero most hated, Seneca was the last who died by his order. The arm of the Prince, was restrained by the virtue of the philosopher, notwithstanding that same virtue made the Prince’s life unpleasant, and was an irksome monitor to him; and after all, the philosopher did not die without a crime, for he was privy to the conspiracy of Pison. If virtue enjoys these immunities under bad Princes, what may it not expect from good ones?

XXXVIII. It would be strange delirium in him who is making war against heaven, to expect, the stars should be favourable to his designs. A Frenchman, reminding an Englishman of the time, when in the reign of Henry the Sixth, the English were almost absolute masters of France, said sneeringly to him, “When do you think you shall return again to be Lords of our kingdom?” to which the Englishman made him this admirable reply, When your iniquities shall be greater than ours. Little different from this was the saying of Agislaus; who (when Tisaphernes finding himself superior in force, in violation of the peace he had sworn to observe, began hostilities,) spoke thus: I am very happy at this event, because Tisaphernes by his perfidy, has engaged the Gods on my side. The issue was, that Agislaus came off triumphant, and Tisaphernes lost the battle and his life.

XXXIX. But to illustrate how much God takes part with the enemies of him, who hopes to succeed in his undertakings, by violating the oaths sworn by his holy name, there is not a more memorable instance in history, than may be seen in the case of Ladislaus the fourth, king of Hungary. This Prince, after gaining some victories, agreed upon a truce with Amurat the Second; but in a short time afterwards, instigated by the indiscreet zeal of the Pontifical legate, he began the war afresh: Worldly policy taught him, that the opportunity was favourable, as the Turks had not recovered from the consternation of their late defeats. Ladislaus had excellent troops, and for his General, John Huniades, who was esteemed the most skillful warrior the world knew in that age. They came to a battle, which in the beginning, was much in favour of the Hungarians. Amurat, when he saw his troops ready to betake themselves to flight, drew out from his bosom the instrument containing the truce, which Ladislaus had sworn to observe; and lifting his eyes to heaven, in a loud voice, addressed our Saviour, in words to this effect: Jesus Christ, if thou art the true God, as the Christians believe you to be, chastise the affront offered to you by these people, in breaking a truce, which they have sworn by thy holy name to keep sacred; and wonderful to relate, at this instant the gale of fortune veer’d about, the Mahometans defeated the Christians with a bloody slaughter, and to compleat the whole, Ladislaus himself was among the slain:

Discite justitiam moniti, & non temnere Divos.

SECT. XI.

XL. One of the most common effects of infamous policy, is, the author’s own maxims being often turned upon, and brought to militate against himself. Jeroboam, when the kingdom of Israel was divided, having made himself master of the ten tribes, spun, as it appeared to him, a most exquisite fine thread of policy; for observing, that from a religious motive, the hearts of his subjects were attached to the Temple of Jerusalem; and that, if he could not separate them from the Jews in point of worship, he was not secure in the possession of his portion of the empire; he raised two idols, and insisted the ten tribes should worship them, forsaking the true God, who was worshiped in the Temple of Jerusalem; but this keen piece of policy, as we read in the Book of Kings, was the very cause, which deprived his posterity of the succession to the crown; his son Nadab in consequence of it, having lost the kingdom and his life by the hands of the rebellious General Baassa. In the death which the Jews inflicted on our Saviour, they pretended, that political precaution made it necessary they should deprive him of life, for otherwise, the Romans would demolish them for having acknowledged any other King but Cæsar; but for their having carried this cursed maxim into execution, heaven ordained as their punishment, that these very Romans, should afterwards be the people to destroy them.

XLI. Thus Providence disposes, that the very same means which Machiavilian politicians apply for their exaltation, or their security, become the instruments of their destruction. Haman, is hang’d on the same gallows, which he prepared for Mordecai. Perillus, is burnt in the same brazen ox, which he fabricated to indulge the cruelty of Phalaris. Callipus, tyrant of Sicily, has his throat cut by the same knife, with which he took away the life of the generous Dion. Isaac Aaron, a Greek by nation, whose eyes were put out by order of the Emperor Emanuel Comenus, as a punishment for his evil deeds, afterwards advised the usurper Andronicus, not only to put out the eyes of his enemies, but to cut their tongues out also; because, that after being deprived of their sight, they could do mischief with their tongues. The Emperor Isaac Angelo, succeeded Andronicus, and ordered, that the tongue of the infamous counsellor who had before lost his eyes, should be cut out likewise. Perrin, Captain General of Geneva, the great persecutor of the Catholics, when in the year 1535, that republic changed their religion, caused the stone of the great altar in the Cathedral to be transported to the place of execution, that it might serve as a scaffold to dispatch delinquents on; and father Maimburgus, in his History of Calvinism, tells us, that the blood of Perrin, who was beheaded for his crimes, was the first which stained the stone. Thomas Cromwell, whom Henry the Eighth, when he erected himself into head of the English church, constituted his supreme vicar in all ecclesiastical matters, was a man extremely false, cruel, and avaricious. To furnish pretences for persecuting the ecclesiastics, that he might enrich himself with their spoils, he prevailed on Henry to make that most iniquitous law, that sentences of death, and confiscations, pronounced on people for high treason, should be good and valid, although they had not been heard in their defence; but Cromwell himself, was the first man this law was put in practice against; Henry having caused him to be beheaded, without his being heard or permitted to make any defence:

————Nec lex est æquior illa,

Ut necis artifices arte perirent sua.

XLII. Finally, and to sum up the whole, if we search history, we shall hardly find one among a thousand of those politicians, who have sought to exalt themselves by means of wicked arts and practices, that have not come to an unhappy end. Thus it has ever been till this time, and so it will ever continue to be from henceforward. What blindness then is it, to persevere in following a path, by pursuing which, you can only by a miracle of chance avoid a precipice? What can this be but delirium, the infallible symptom of the fever of ambition? which is a flame that cannot burn with violence in any man, without his being affected with a phrensy of the brain.

SECT. XIII.

XLIII. All we have said of policy, as it relates to private people, may be applied to princes, or superiors, who govern every kind of state; and with respect to these also, the division of policy into the high and the low, is apt and proper, as the first is secure, and the second hazardous in them, in the same proportion, which it is with respect to subjects or private men. Any ruler whatever, who is endued with the three virtues, of prudence, justice, and fortitude, will be a singular good politician, without ever having read any of those books, which treat of reasons of state. The true arts of governing, are, to chuse such ministers as are wise and upright, to reward merit, and to punish crimes; to watch over, and attend to the interest of the public, and to be faithful in promises. By these means, the respect, the love, and the obedience of subjects, will be much more effectually secured, than by all that compound farrago of political subtilties, called reasons of state; a mystery, deposited in the minds of privy counsellors, which, as if it was a most sacred thing, they never suffer to be totally displayed; nor ever to go forth to the public, unless covered with a thick veil; and is for the most part, no more than a ridiculous phantom, or vain idol, which under the title of a Deity, they exhibit for the adoration of the ignorant vulgar. Reason of state, is the universal agitator, or primum mobile of a kingdom, and is the reason for every thing, without being the reason of any thing. If it is asked, why was such a thing done, the answer is, for reasons of state; very well, but why was such another thing omitted to be done, why for reasons of state also. Would it not be better to say, it was done because justice required it, or because religion, clemency, or some moral virtue dictated the doing it? The reason of the directions of a minister to his inferiors, in all matters, is, that they are the King’s commands. The reason why a Prince orders any thing to be done, should be this, and this only, because the commandments and laws of God, require it; for a Prince in a more rigorous sense, is the minister of God, than his subalterns are ministers to him.

XLIV. If we are to understand, that reason of state means political prudence, why not call it by that name? because the phrase political prudence, implies or signifies a moral virtue, but the term, reason of state, we don’t know the meaning of. This expression, ragioni di stato, took its rise in Italy, but it does not seem as if they entertained a high veneration for it there, since we are told, that the holy Pontif Pius, could not bear to hear it mentioned; and was used to say, that reasons of state were the inventions of perverse men, and the very reverse of religion and the moral virtues. It was observable, that Pope Pius, in no case stood in need of these political subtilties; for without their aid, he was not only a great saint, but a distinguish’d and exemplary ruler.

XLV. It was a remark of the celebrated Bacon, that the most desirable governments which the church has in all times experienced, were under those Popes, who having passed the greatest part of their lives in monasteries, were reputed ignorant of political business; and that these made excellent Princes, and recommended themselves much more to the good opinion of posterity, by their wise regulations, than those, who had been bred in the schools, and had exercised themselves all their lives, in the management of public affairs; instancing as examples of the truth of this assertion, Pius V. and Sextus V. who both reign’d in the same age: Imò convertamus oculos ad regimen pontificium ac nominatim Pij V. vel Sixti V. nostro sæculo, qui sub initiis habiti sunt pro fraterculis rerum imperitis, inveniemusque acta paparum ejus generis magis esse solere memorabilia, quam eorum, qui in negotiis civilibus, & principum aulis enutriti ad papatum ascenderint (Lib. I. de Augment. Scient.) This testimony to the truth, is given by a Calvinist Heretic, although abstracted from his religion, he was in every sense a great, and most enlightened man, and one, who was not more remarkable for his incomparable talents, than for his candour and ingenuity.

XLVI. The reason he gives why the Popes, who before their elevation to the throne, had lived in holy retirement, excelled in the mode and goodness of their government, those, who before their rise, had always been exercised in public business, entitles him to the appellations we have just bestowed on him. He says, the want of civil instruction in those Pontiffs, was more than compensated for by their virtues; because Princes, who follow steadily, the plain and safe road of religion, justice, and the other moral virtues, readily and expertly, without the aid of studied policy, put in train, and dispatch all sorts of business that may occur to them. They are sound and robust souls, who have no more occasion for civil arts, than men who are healthy, and blessed with good constitutions have for physic. In eo tamen abundè fit compensatio, quod per tutum, planumque iter religionis, justitiæ, honestatis, virtutumque moralium, prompte, atque expedite incedant, quam viam, qui constanter tenuerint, illis alteris remediis non magis indigebunt, quam corpus sanum medicina.

XLVI. I almost blush, that a Heretic should talk in this strain, when among the Catholics, we find so many politicians who abound in very different maxims. But the case is, that the subtilties and artifices which compose what is commonly called worldly policy, are a sort of remedies, which sickly souls only, stand in need of. A vicious government, which he who has the management of turns and winds to answer his private purposes, cannot exist without the help of such medicaments, which may with as much propriety be called drugs, as those that are sold in an apothecary’s shop. But a sound understanding, endued and justly tempered with the four elemental qualities, of prudence, justice, fortitude, and sobriety, with only the assistance of these virtues, will, without the succour of other arts, and without embarrassment, surmount all the difficulties that can occur in government.

XLVII. And since Bacon has mentioned him, let us take a cursory view of the reign of Sextus the Vth. This spirit, so truly incomparable, that it seems as if God had formed him for the purpose of governing the whole world; in whom, the magnanimity of Cæsar, the prudence of Augustus, and the justice of Trajan were joined, and who, in these virtues, even excelled them; in a few months after his mounting the throne, had gained the respect of all the Princes of Europe, and had put the whole ecclesiastical state in better order, and under better regulation, than it had been known to be blessed with or enjoy, for many antecedent ages. Thefts, cheating, murders, subornations, and licentious insolence, were so effectually rooted out and banished from that great city, that it never till then, could with so much propriety be called Holy Rome. All dread of extortion and injustice was lost, and nobody feared, only God and the Pope; and as Gregory Leti tells us, in his History of Sextus, women, and other defenceless persons, could walk the streets at all hours of the night, as safely, as they could walk in the cloisters of a Capuchin Convent. In the five years which he reigned, he embellished Rome with many noble edifices, and left the treasury some millions richer than he found it. I ask now, by what political arts, and what ingenious devices, he performed all these wonders? He knew no arts, save those of an indefatigable vigilance and attention to the concerns of government; a fervent zeal for the public good, and an unalterable rectitude and justice. I cannot tell, whether what has been so much rumoured about Sextus having put on false appearances before his advancement to the throne, be true, but I believe it is not; and it is certain, that after he found himself seated in the Papal chair, he was a man void of all dissimulation; always generous, open, free and sincere, and one, who that his designs should not appear occult, frankly exposed and laid them open; and unless the virtue of prudence dictated caution, or the character of the prelate demanded reserve, he concealed the purposes of his heart from no man. This frankness, was natural to his genius, and he was the same in that respect while he was a religious; and therefore, I cannot give credit, to what is said of his practising duplicity while a Cardinal, in order to obtain the Popedom. It is more probable, that they mistook what was the real effect of his virtue, for dissimulation. They also charge him with doing violence to his nature, by bearing all sorts of injuries patiently, that he might acquire the character of a meek and gentle man; but why should not all this be imputed, to his desire, in obedience to the gospel precept, of imitating our Saviour? The severity he observed when he was Pope, proves nothing to contradict this sentiment; because bearing with offences that are merely personal, and those which are committed against dignities, are very different things. They also say, he feigned himself decrepid and worn out with age and infirmities, to excite in his favour, the choice of the Cardinals; from the prospect that his would be a short pontificate, and that they should have a quick return of another conclave. But notwithstanding what people say, I don’t believe the Cardinals are so much influenced by this sort of policy as the world imagine, from their having so often chosen Popes of good constitutions, and not far advanced in years, provided at the time of their election, their judgment was arrived at that state of maturity, which it is not common to attain but in a more advanced age. On the other hand, it is probable, that Sextus who was seventy-four when he ascended the Papal chair, was much broke. If he afterwards seemed more robust, it might be, because having charged himself with such weighty obligations, he used extraordinary exertions to comply with what he had undertaken; and besides this, the before cited Leti informs us, that to enable him to discharge the duties incumbent on him, he fed more copiously, and took more nourishing aliment, both with respect to meat and drink, when he was a Pope, than he did while he was a Cardinal.

XLVIII. I have dwelt with pleasure on the eulogium of this singular man, who was always the object of my admiration, although some have been unjust enough, not to render him the praise due to his merit. And here by the way, I cannot forbear congratulating the seraphic religion, on having produced in the person of this Pontif, and in that of Cardinal Cisneros, two politicians so eminent, that in my opinion the world never saw greater; though neither the one or the other have been without their enemies, who, envious of their merit, have strove to tarnish their glories; but what I most admire in this particular is, that so able a man as Don Antonio de Solis, should in the third Chap. of his History of Mexico, paint the Cardinal, as a man deficient in point of political abilities; notwithstanding he in all other respects, heaps on him the highest encomiums. Foreign authors do him more justice, and particularly, Flechier, Bishop of Nimes, who with great judgment and discretion wrote his life, celebrates him, as a most eminent and brilliant politician: and another modern French author, having drawn a parallel of the characters of the two Cardinals, Cisneros, and Richlieu, gives the preference to our countryman; acknowledging, that he was equal to the other as a politician, and much preferable to him as a devout man; though by the way, when he says this, he pays no great compliment to the sanctity of Cisneros.

XLIX. From all that has been said on this subject, it is evident and plain, that with an equality of talents, those politicians who proceed upon the principles of honesty, and who pursue the road of rectitude and truth, will with greater certainty, and more ease, attain their ends, than those, who follow the rout of artifice and deceit; for the first, is the sound or true policy, the other, the rotten or false.

THE MACHIAVELIANISM OF THE ANCIENTS.

SECT. I.

I. As we are about to treat in this discourse of the tyrannic doctrine of Machiavel; I believe it will be agreeable to the greatest part of our readers, to have some particular information respecting this man, of whom all the world talks, and whom all the world detests; for by whatever means men make themselves famous, they excite a curiosity to know who and what they were.

II. Nicholas Machiavel, who was a native of Florence, lived in the beginning of the sixteenth century, and was a man of more than middling ingenuity. He wrote the Tuscan language with elegance and propriety, although his knowledge of the Latin was but moderate. He had a good genius for writing comic poetry, which he manifested in various pieces which he wrote for the theatre; and more particularly in one of them, that was represented at Florence with such great applause, that it excited Pope Leo the tenth, as Paulus Jovius informs us, to cause it to be acted at Rome by the same players, and with the same dresses and decorations, with which it had been exhibited at Florence. When the unhappy conspiracy against the family of the Medicis, was set on foot by the Soderinis, Machiavel, who was impeached as an accomplice in it, was put to the question by torture; but either his fortitude, or his innocence, caused him to resist the rigour of that trial without making the least confession. I do not know whether it was before, or after this event, that he was made secretary to the republic, but it is certain, that for the title of historian to it, which was conferred on him together with a good salary, he was totally indebted to the favour of the Medicis; but whether they did this from a conviction of his innocence with respect to the late conspiracy, and were disposed to recompence him by this honourable emolument, for the injury he suffered in the torture; or whether they did it from considering him as an able man whom they had a mind to keep under obligations to them, in order to avail themselves of so good a pen as Machiavel’s in their favour; I say, whichever of these motives they were actuated by, is not quite certain.

III. The conferring this benefit on him, did not prevent new suspicions being entertained of his fidelity, and of his having concurred in another plot concerted by some private individuals, to take away the life of cardinal Julius de Medicis, who afterwards ascended to the popedom, by the name of Clement the seventh. This suspicion was founded entirely, on the repeated applauses, with which both in his writings and private conversations, he had celebrated Brutus and Cassius, as the defenders and vindicators of the liberty of the Roman republic; which at that time, was interpreted as an indirect exhortation to the Florentines to defend their liberty, which the Medicis either in reality or appearance, meditated to suppress. But with all this, either from mere motives of policy, or because the suspicions seemed lightly founded, no proceedings were had against Machiavel. It is confirmed however, that after this time, he passed the remainder of his days in misery and poverty. Perhaps the Medicis, who were secretly displeased with him, thought it more adviseable, instead of bringing him to open punishment, to accomplish their dark revenge, by occult ways and means. It might also happen, that he brought himself to poverty by his own misconduct; but, be this as it will, he hastened his death as many other people have hastened theirs before him, by taking a precautionary medicine to prolong his life, which instead of lengthening, shortened it, and brought him to an untimely end in the year 1530.

IV. Machiavel was of a jocose and satyrical disposition, and was believed to have little or no religion. There are some who say, that when he was near dying, they were under a necessity of employing the authority of the civil magistrate to oblige him to receive the sacraments. We read in many authors, a wanton and insolent impiety of his, under the colour of a joke; that is, his having said, that he had much rather go to hell than heaven; because in heaven he should only meet with fryars, mendicants, and other miserable and groveling people; but that in hell, he should enjoy the company of popes, cardinals, and princes, with whom he could converse of state affairs. Others substitute, for his saying popes, cardinals, and princes, the most eminent philosophers and political writers, such as Plato, Aristotle, Plutarch, and Tacitus.

V. He published a variety of books, and among them, the life of Castrucius Castracani, and the history of Florence, which do not obtain the greatest credit with the critics. But the work that made him jointly the most famous and infamous man in the world, was a political tract, intituled, “The Prince;” in which he teaches and recommends to all sovereigns, to reign tyrannically, and to govern their people, without regarding either equity, law, or religion, but sacrificing them all three, together with the public good, to his interest, his will, his caprice, and his own particular grandeur.