260 A SHORT STILE THAT COMES ROUNDLY OFF, IS GOOD.

66

he made the next day to his army; and of what he did in his closet and his chamber, than what he did in the publick place, and in the senate. As to Cicero, I am of the common opinion that (learning excepted) he had no great natural parts. He was a good citizen, of an affable nature, as all fat, heavy men, such as he was, usually are: but given to ease, and had a mighty share of vanity and ambition. Neither do I know how to excuse him for thinking his poetry fit to be publish'd. 'Tis no great imperfection to make ill verses; but it is an imperfection, not to be able to judge how unworthy his verses were of the glory of his name. For what concerns his eloquence, that is totally out of comparison, and I believe it will never be equall'd. The younger Cicero, who resembled his father in nothing but in name, whilst commanding in Asia, had several strangers one day at his table, and amongst the rest, Cæstius seated at the lower end, as men often intrude to the open tables of the great: Cicero ask't one of the waiters who that man was, who presently told him his name: but he, as one that had his thoughts taken up with something else, and that had forgot the answer made him, asking three or four times, over, and over again, the same question; the fellow, to deliver himself from so many questions, and to make him know him by some particular circumstance; "'tis that Cæstius," said he, " of whom it was told you, that he makes no great account of your fathers eloquence in comparison of his own." At which, Cicero being suddenly nettled, commanded poor Cæstius presently to be seiz'd, and caus'd him to be very well whipt in his own presence; a very discourteous entertainer ! Yet even amongst those, who, all things considered, have reputed his eloquence incomparable: there have been some however, who have not stuck to observe some faults in his writing: as that great Brutus his friend for example, who said 'twas a broken and feeble eloquence, “fractam et elumbem." The orators also nearest to the age wherein he liv'd, reprehended in him the care he had of a certain long cadence in his periods, and particularly took notice of these words, esse videatur, which he there so oft makes use of. For my part, I better approve of a shorter stile, and that comes more roundly off. He does, though sometimes, shuffle his parts more briskly together, but 'tis very seldom. I have myself taken notice of this one passage, "Ego vero me minus diu senem mallem, quam esse senem, antequam essem." The historians are my true province, for they are pleasant and easie; where immediately man in general, the knowledge of whom I hunt after, does there appear more lively and intire than any where besides: the variety and truth of his internal qualities, in gross and peace-meal, the diversity of means by which he is united and knit, and the accidents that threaten him. Now those that write lives, by reason they insist more upon counsels than events, more upon what sallies from within, than upon that which happens without, are the most proper for my reading; and therefore, above all others, Plutarch is the man for me. I am very sorry we have not a dozen Laertii, or that he was not further extended, and better understood: for I am equally curious to know the lives and fortunes of these great instructors of the world, as to know the diversities of their doctrines and opinions. In this kind of study (the reading of histories) a man must tumble over, without distinction, all sorts of authors, both antick and

modern; as well barbarous and obsolete, as those of current language, there to know the things of which they variously treat: but Cæsar, in my opinion, particularly deserves to be studyed, not for the knowledge of the history only, but for himself, so great an excellence and perfection he has above all the rest, though Sallust be one of the number. In earnest, I read this author with more reverence and respect than is usually allow'd to human writings; one while considering him in his person, by his actions and miraculous greatness, and another in the purity and inimitable neatness of his language and style, wherein he not only excels all other historians, as Cicero confesses, but peradventure, even Cicero himself; speaking of his enemies with so much sincerity in his judgment; that, the false colours with which he strives to palliate his ill cause, and the ordure of his pestilent ambition excepted, I think there is no fault to be objected against him, saving this, that he speaks too sparingly of himself, seeing so many great things could not have been perform'd under his conduct, but that his own personal valour must necessarily have had a greater share in the execution, than he attributes to himself. I love historians, who are either very sincere, or very excellent. The sincere who have nothing of their own to mix with it, and who only make it their business to make a faithful collection of all that comes to their knowledge, and faithfully to record all things without choice or prejudice, leaving to us the entire judgment of discerning the truth of things. Such, for example amongst others, as honest Froissard, who has proceeded in his undertaking with so frank a plainness, that having committed an error, he is not asham'd to confess, and correct it in the place where the finger has been laid, and who represents to us even the variety of rumours that were then spread abroad, and the different reports that were made to him; which is the naked and unaffected matter of history, and of which every one may make his profit, according to his proportion of understanding. The more excellent sort of historians have judgment to pick out what is most worthy to be known; and of two reports, to examine which is the most likely to be true: from the condition of princes, and their humours, they conclude the counsels, and attribute to them words proper for the occasion; and such have title to assume the authority of regulating our belief to what they themselves believe; but certainly, this privilege belongs not to every one. For the middle sort of historians (of which, the most part are) they spoil all; they will chew our meat for us, they take upon them to judge of, and consequently, to incline the history to their own liking; for if the judgment partially lean to one side, a man cannot avoid wresting and writhing his narrative to that byass. They undertake to chuse things worthy to be known, and yet very oft conceal from us such a word, such a private action, as would much better instruct us; omit, as incredible, such things as they do not understand, and peradventure some, because they cannot express them well in good French or Latin. Let them, in God's name, display their eloquence, and judge according to their own fancy: but let them, withal, leave us something to judge of after them, and neither alter, nor disguise, by their abridgments, and at their own choice, any thing of the substance of the matter; but deliver it to us pure and entire in all it's dimensions. For the most part, and especially in these latter

262 MY MODE OF NOTING JUDGMENT OF BOOKS READ. ages, persons are cull'd out for this work, from amongst the common people, upon the sole consideration of well-speaking, as if we were to learn grammar from thence; and the men so chosen have also reason, being hired for no other end, and pretending to nothing but babble, not to be very sollicitous of any part but that, and so, with a fine gingle of words, prepare us a pretty contexture of reports, they pick up in the streets. The only good histories are those that have been writ by the persons themselves who commanded in the affairs whereof they write, or who have participated in the conduct of them, or, at least, who have had the conduct of others of the same nature. Such almost are all the Greek and Roman: for several eye-witnesses having writ of the same subject (in the time when grandeur and learning frequently met in the same person) if there happen to be an errour, it must of necessity be a very slight one, and upon a very doubtful accident. What can a man expect from a physician, who will undertake to write of war; or from a meer scholar, treating upon the designs of princes? If we could take notice how religious the Romans were in this, there would need but this example: Asinius Pollio found in the history of Cæsar himself, something mis-reported; a mistake occasioned, either by reason he could not have his eye in all parts of his army at once, and had given credit to some particular person, who had not delivered him a very true account; or else, for not having had too perfect notice given him by his lieutenants, of what they had done in his absence. By which we may see, whether the inquisition after truth be not very delicate, when a man cannot believe the report of a battle from the knowledge of him who there commanded, nor from the soldiers who were engaged in it, unless, after the method of a judicatory information, the witnesses be confronted, and the challenges received upon the proof of the punctilios of every accident. In good earnest, the knowledge we have of our own private affairs, is much more obscure: but that has been sufficiently handled by Bodin, and according to my own sentiment. A little to relieve the weakness of my memory (so extream, that it has hapned to me more than once, to take books again into my hand for new, and unseen, that I had carefully read over a few years before, and scribled with my notes) I have taken a custom of late, to fix at the end of every book (that is, of those I never intended to read again) the time when I made an end on't, and the judgment I had made of it, to the end that that might, at least, represent to me the air and general idea, I had conceived of the author in reading it; and I will here transcribe some of those annotations. I writ this, some ten years agoe, in my Guicciardin (of what language soover my books speak to me in, I always speak to them in my own :) " He is a diligent historiographer, and from whom, in my opinion, a man may learn the truth of affairs of his time, as exactly as from any other; in the most of which he was himself also a personal actor, and in honourable command. 'Tis not to be imagined, that he should have disguised any thing, either upon the account of hatred, favour, or vanity; of which, the liberal censures he passes upon the great ones; and particularly, those by whom he was advanced, and imployed in commands of great trust and honour (as Pope Clement the Seventh) give ample testimony. As to that part, which he thinks himself the best at, namely, his digressions and dis

courses, he has, indeed, very good ones, and enriched with fine expressions; but he is too fond of them for to leave nothing unsaid, having a subject so plain, ample, and almost infinite, he degenerates into pedantry, and relishes a little of the scholastick prattle. I have also observed this in him, that of so many souls, and so many effects; so many motives, and so many counsels as he judges of, he never attributes any one to vertue, religion or conscience; as if all those were utterly extinct in the world: and of all the actions how brave in outward shew soever they appear in themselves, he always throws the cause and motive upon some vicious occasion, or some prospect of profit. It is impossible to imagine but that, amongst such an infinite number of actions, as he makes mention of, there must be some one produced by the way of reason. No corruption could so universally have infected men, that some one would not have escaped the contagion which makes me suspect, that his own taste was vicious; from whence it might happen, that he judged other men by himself." In my Philip de Comines, there is this written; "You will here find the language sweet and delightful, of a native simplicity, the narration pure, and wherein the veracity of the author does evidently shine; free from vanity; when speaking of himself; and from affection or envy, when speaking of others: his discourses and exhortations more accompanied with zeal and truth, than with any exquisite sufficiency; and throughout, with authority and gravity, which speak him a man of extraction, and nourished up in great affairs." Upon the memoirs of Monsieur du Bellay, I find this; "tis always pleasant to read things writ by those that have experimented how they ought to be carried on; but withal, it cannot be denyed but there is a manifest decadence in these two lords from the freedom and liberty of writing, that shines in the ancient historians: such as the Sire de Jovin ville, a domestick to St. Louis: Eginard, chancellor to Charlemain; and, of latter date, in Philip de Comines. This here is rather an apology for king Francis, against the emperor Charles the Fifth, than a history. I will not believe that they have falsified any thing, as to matter of fact; but they make a common practise of wresting the judgment of events (very often contrary to reason) to our advantage, and of omitting whatsoever is nice to be handl❜d in the life of their master; witness the relation of Messieurs de Montmorency, and de Brion, which were here omitted: nay, so much as the very name of Madam d'Estampes is not here to be found. Secret actions an historian may conceal; but to pass over in silence what all the world knows, and things that have drawn after them publick consequences, is an inexcusable defect. In fine, whoever has a mind to have a perfect knowledge of King Francis, and the revolutions of his reign, let him seek it elsewhere, if my advice may prevail. The only profit a man can reap from hence is, from the particular narrative of battels, and other exploits of war, wherein these gentlemen were personally engaged; some words, and private actions of the princes of their time, and the practices and negotiations carried on by the seigneur de Lancay; where, indeed, there are, every where, things worthy to be known, and discourses above the vulgar strain."

264 VERTUE REFUSES? FACILITY FOR A COMPANION.

CHAP. LIII.-OF CRUELTY.

'Tis

I FANCY vertue to be something else, and something more noble, than good nature, and the meer propension to goodness, that we are born into the world withal. Well dispos'd, and well descended souls pursue, indeed, the same methods, and represent the same face, that vertue it self does but the word vertue imports, I know not what, more great, and active, than meerly for a man to suffer himself, by a happy disposition, to be gently and quietly drawn to the rule of reason. He who, by a natural sweetness and facility, should despise injuries receiv'd, would, doubtless, do a very great, and a very laudable thing; but he who, provoked, and netled to the quick, by an offence, should fortifie himself with the arms of reason, against the furious appetite of revenge, and, after a great conflict, master his own passion, would, doubtless, do a great deal more. The first would do well; and the latter vertuously. one action might be called bounty, and the other vertue; for, methinks, the very name of vertue presupposes difficulty and contention; and 'tis for this reason, perhaps, that we call God good, mighty, liberal and just; but we do not give him the attribute of vertuous, being that all his operations are natural, and without endeavour. It has been the opinion of many philosophers, not only Stoicks, but Epicureans, that it is not enough to have the soul seated in a good place, of a good tem, per, and well dispos'd to vertue. It is not enough to have our resolutions fixed above all the power of fortune, but that we are, moreoverto seek occasions wherein to put it to the proof: we are to covet pain, necessity and contempt, to contend with them, and to keep the soul in breath: "multum sibi adjicit virtus lacessita."-Sen. Epist. 25. one of the reasons why Epaminondas, who was yet of a third sect, refused the riches fortune presented to him by very lawful means; "because," said he, "I am to contend with poverty:" in which extream he maintain'd himself to the last. Socrates put himself, methinks, upon a rude tryal; keeping for his exercise, a confounded scolding wife, which was fighting at sharp. Metellus having, of all the senators, alone attempted, by the power of vertue, to withstand the violence of Saturninus, tribune of the people at Rome, who would, by all means, cause an unjust law, to pass in favour of the commons; and by so doing, having incurr'd the capital penalties that Saturninus had established against the dissenters, entertain'd those who, in this extremity led him to execution, with words to this effect: "That it was a thing too easie, and too base, to do ill; and that to do well where there was no danger, was a common thing; but that to do well where there was danger, was the proper office of a man of vertue." These words of Metellus do very clearly represent to us, what I would make out; viz., that vertue refuses facility for a companion; and that that easie, smooth and descending way, by which the regular steps of a sweet disposition of nature are conducted, is not that of a true vertue: she requires a rough and stormy passage; she will have either exotick difficulties to wrestle with, (like that of Metellus) by means whereof fortune delights to interrupt the speed of her career; or internal difficulties, that the inordinate appetites and imperfections of our condition introduce to disturb her. I am come thus far at my ease; but here it comes into my head, that the soul of Socrates, the most perfect that ever came to my knowledge, should, by this rule,