THE VALUE OF PLUTARCH AS AN AUTHORITY.

520 schools. Well may they speed; but were I of the trade, I would as much naturalize art, as they artifie nature. Let us let Bembo and Equicolo alone. When I write, I can very well spare both the company and the remembrance of books, lest they should interrupt my method, and also in truth the best authors too much humble and discourage me. I am very much of the painter's mind, who, having represented cocks most wretchedly ill, charged all his boys not to suffer any natural cock to come into his shop; and had rather need give my self a little lustre of the invention of Antinonnydes the musician, who, when he was to sing or play, took care beforehand that the auditory should either before or after, be entertained and glutted with some other ill musicians. But I can hardly be without a Plutarch, he is so universal, and so full, that upon all occasions, and what extravagant subject soever you take in hand, he will still intrude himself into your business, and holds out to you a liberal, and not to be exhausted hand of riches and embellishments. It vexes me that he is so expos'd to the spoil of those who are conversant with him. I can no sooner cast an eye upon him but I purloin either a leg or a wing. And also for this design of mine, 'tis convenient for me to write at home, in a wild country, where I have no body to assist or relieve me; where I hardly see a man that understands the Latin of his Pater Noster, and of French as little, if not less. I might have made it better elsewhere, but then the work would have been less my own; and its principal end and perfection is to be exactly mine: I should well enough correct an accidental error, of which I am full, as I run carelessly on: but for any ordinary and constant imperfections, it were a kind of treason to put them out. When another tells, or that I say to my self, "Thou art too thick of figures; this is a word of the Gascon growth, and therefore a dangerous phrase; (I do not reject any of those that are us'd in the common streets of France, that they will fight custom with grammar, are fools ;) this is an ignorant discourse; this is a paradoxical saying; this is a foolish expression. Thou mak'st thy self merry sometimes; and men will think thou say'st a thing in good earnest, which thou only speak'st in jest." Yes say I, but I correct the faults of inadvertence, not those of custom. Do I not talk at the same rate throughout? Do I not represent my self to the life? 'Tis enough that I have done what I design'd; all the world knows me in my book, and my book in me. Now I have an apish imitating quality; when I us'd to write verses, (and I. never made any but Latin) they evidently accus'd the poet I had last read; and some of my first essays have a little exotick taste. I speak somewhat another kind of language at Paris than I do at Montaigne. Whoever I steadfastly look upon, easily leaves some impression of his look upon me. Whatever I consider I usurp; whether a foolish countenance, a disagreeable look, or a ridiculous way of speaking; and vices most of all, because they seize and stick to me, and will not leave hold without shaking off. I swear more by imitation than humour. A murthering imitation, like that of the apes, so terrible both in stature and strength, that Alexander met with in a certain country of the Indies, which he would have had much ado any other way to have subdu'd. But they afforded him the means by that inclination of theirs to imitate whatever they saw done. For by that the hunters were taught to put

on shoes in their sight, and to tye them fast with many knots, and to muffle up their heads in caps all compos'd of running nooses, and to seem to anoint their eyes with glue; so did those silly creatures employ their imitations to their own ruine; they glu'd up their own eyes, halter'd and bound themselves. The other faculty playing the mimick, and ingeniously acting the words and gestures of another, purposely to make others merry, and to raise their admiration, is no more in me than in a stock. When I swear my own oath, 'tis only by God, of all oaths the most direct. They say that Socrates swore by his dog; Zeno had for his oath the same interjection, at this time in use amongst the Italians, Cappari; Pythagoras swore by water and air. I am so apt, without thinking of it, to receive these superficial impressions, that if I have majesty or highness in my mouth for three days together, they come out instead of excellency and lordship, eight days after; and what I say to day in sport and fooling, I shall seriously say the same to morrow. Wherefore, in writing, I more unwillingly undertake beaten arguments, lest I should handle them at another's expence. Every subject is equally fertile to me. A fly will serve me for a subject, and 'tis well if this I have in hand has not been undertaken at the recommendation of as wanton a will. I may begin with that which pleases me best, for the subjects are all link'd to one another; but my soul displeases me, in that it ordinarily produces its deepest and most airy conceits, which please me best, when I least expect or study for them; and suddenly vanish, having, at that instant, nothing to apply them to; on horse-back, at the table, and in bed; but most on horse-back, where I am most given to think. My speaking is a little nicely jealous of silence and attention, if I talk my best. Who interrupts me, cuts me off. In travelling, the necessity of the way will often put a stop to discourse; besides that I, for the most part, travel without company, fit to entertain long discourse, by which means I have all the leisure I would to entertain my self. It falls out as it does in my dreams, whilst dreaming I recommend them to my memory, (for I am apt to dream that dream) but the next morning I may represent to my self of what complexion they were, whether gay, or sad, or strange, but what they were, as to the rest, the more I endeavour to retrieve them, the deeper I plunge them in oblivion. So of thoughts that come accidentally into my head, I have no more but a vain image remaining in my memory, only enough to make me torment my self in their quest to no purpose. In the Turkish empire, there are a great number of men, who, to excel others, never suffer themselves to be seen when they make their repast; who never have any more than one a week, who cut and mangle their faces and limbs, and never speak to any one: fanatick people! who think to honour their nature by denaturing themselves; that value themselves upon their contempt of themselves, and grow better by being worse: what monstrous animal is this, that is a horror to himself, to whom his delights are grievous, and who weds himself to misfortunes! There are who conceal their life and withdraw them from the sight of other men, that avoid health and chearfulness, as dangerous and prejudicial qualities. Not only many sects, but many people curse their birth, and bless their death; and there is a place where the sun is abominated, and darkness ador'd. We

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522 OUR LIFE IS DIVIDED BETWIXT FOLLY AND PRUDENCE.

are only ingenious in using our selves ill; 'tis the only quarry our wits fly at; and wit, when misapply'd, is a dangerous tool. Alas, poor man! thou hast inconveniencies that are inevitable enough, without increasing them by thine own invention, and art miserable enough by nature, without being so by art; thou hast real and essential deformities enow, without forging those that are imaginary. Thou dost not stick to infringe the universal and undoubted laws; but stick'st close to those confederate and fantastick ones of thy own, and by how much more particular, uncertain and contradicted they are, by so much thou employ'st thy whole endeavour in them: the laws of thy parish bind thee; those of the world concern thee not: run but a little over the examples of this kind, thy life is full of them. I universally owe my intire picture to the publick. The wisdom of my instruction wholly consists in liberty, and naked truth; disdaining to introduce these little, feign'd, common, and provincial rules, into the catalogue of its real duties, all natural, general, and constant; of which civility and ceremony are daughters indeed, but illegitimate. We are sure to have the vices of apparence when we shall have had those of essence. The application of our selves to light and trivial things, diverts us from those that are necessary and just. O, that these superficial men take an easie and plausible way in comparison of ours! These are shadows wherewith we palliate and pay one another; but we do not pay, but inflame the reckoning towards that great judge, who tucks up our rags and tatters about us. In fine, whoever could reclaim man from so scrupulous a verbal superstition, would do the world no great disservice. Our life is divided betwixt folly and prudence. Whoever will write but what is reverend and canonical, will leave above the one half behind. I do not excuse my self to my self; and if I did, it should rather be for my excuses that I would excuse my self, than for any other fault. I excuse my self of certain humours, which I think more strong in number than those that are on my side. In consideration of which, I will farther say this, (for I desire to please every one, though it will be hard to do; esse unum hominem accommodatum ad tantam morum ac fermenum et voluntatum varietatem,) that they ought not to condemn me for what I make authorities, receiv'd and approv'd of so many ages, to utter: and that there is no reason that for want of rhime they should refuse me the liberty they allow even to church-men of our nation, and time. I love modesty, and 'tis not out of judgment that I have chosen this scandalous way of speaking; 'tis nature that has chosen it for me: I recommend it not, no more than other forms that are contrary to common usance: but I excuse it, and by circumstances both general and particular, alleviate the accusation. May we not say, that there is nothing in us, during this earthly prison, that is purely either corporeal or spiritual; and that we injuriously break up a man alive; and that it seems but reasonable that we should carry ourselves as favourable, at least against the use of pleasure, as we do against that of pain? It was (for example) vehement even to perfection in the souls of the saints by repentance: the body had there naturally a share by the right of union, and yet might have but little part in the cause; and yet are they not contented that it should barely follow and assist

the afflicted soul. They have afflicted it by it self, with grievous and pecular torments, to the end, that by emulation of one another, the soul and body might plunge man into misery, by so much more salutiferous, as it is more painful and severe. In like manner, it is not injustice in bodily pleasures: to subdue and keep under the soul, and say, that it must therein be dragg'd along, as to some enforc'd and servile obligation and necessity? 'Tis rather her part to botch and cherish them, there to present her self, and to invite them, the authority of ruling belonging to her; as it is also her part, in my opinion, in pleasures that are proper to her, to inspire and infuse into the body all the resentment it is capable of, and to study how to make it pleasant and useful to it. For it is good reason, as they say, that the body should not pursue its appetites to the prejudice of the mind; but why it is not also reason that the mind should not pursue hers to the prejudice of the body? I have no other passion to keep me in breath. What avarice, ambition, quarrels and suits do to others, who, like me, have no particular vocation, love would much more commodiously do; it would restore to me vigilancy, sobriety, grace, and the care of my person. It would re-assure my countenance, that the four looks, those deform'd and to be pitied four looks of old age, might not step in disgrace it; would again put me upon sound and wise studies, by which I might render myself more lov'd and esteem'd, clearing my mind of the despair of it self, and of its use, and redintegrate it to it self; whould divert me from a thousand troublesome thoughts, and a thousand melancholick humours, that idleness and the ill posture of our health, loads us withal at such an age; would warm again, in dreams at least, the blood that nature has given over; would hold up the chin, and a little stretch out of the nerves, the vigours and gaiety of life of that poor man, who is going full-drive toward his ruine.

CHAP. LXXIX.-OF COACHES.

It is very easie to make it appear, that great authors when they write of causes, do not only make use of those they think to be the true causes indeed, but also of those they believe are not so, provided their works may be illustrated with the beauty of invention. They speak true, and usefully enough, if it be ingeniously. We cannot make our selves sure of the supream cause, and therefore clutter a great many together, to see if it may not accidentally be amongst them.

Will you ask me, whence the custom of blessing those that sneeze? I think I have read in Plutarch (which of all the authors I ever cont vers'd with, is he who has best mix'd art with nature, and judgment with knowledge) giving a reason for the rising of the stomach in those that are at sea, that it is occasion'd by fear, having found out some reason by which he proves, that fear may produce such an effect: I who am very subject to vomit, know very well that that cause concerns not me; and know it not by argument, but by necessary experience, without instancing what has been often told me, that the same thing oft happens in beasts, especially hogs, when out of all apprehension of danger, and

524 FEAR SPRINGS FROM WANT OF JUDGMENT AS OF COURAGE.

what an acquaintance of mine has told me of himself, that being very subject to it, the disposition to vomit has three or four times gone_off him, being very much afraid in a violent storm, as it hapned to that antient, "Pejus vexabar quam ut periculum mihi succurreret."-Seneca. "I was too much troubled for my danger to relieve me." I was never afraid upon the water, nor indeed in any other peril (and I have had enow before my eyes, that have been just enough, if death be one) so as to be astonish'd and lose my judgment. Fear springs sometimes as well from want of judgment as from want of courage. All the dangers I have been in I have look'd upon without winking, with an open, sound and intire sight; and besides, a man must have courage to fear: it has formerly served me better than some others, so to order my retreat, that it was, if not without fear, nevertheless without affright and astonishment. It was stirr'd indeed, but not amazed nor stupified. Great souls go yet much farther, and represent flights not only sound and temperate, but moreover fierce. Let us make a relation of that which Alcibiades reports of Socrates, his fellow in arms: "I found him," says he, "after the rout of our army, him and Lachez, in the rear of those that fled, and considered him at my leisure, and in security, for I was mounted on a good horse, and he on foot, and had so fought. I took notice, in the first place, how much judgment and resolution he shew'd, in comparison of Lachez; and then the bravery of his march, nothing different from his ordinary gate; his sight firm and regular, considering and judging what pass'd about him, looking one while upon those, and then upon others, friends and enemies, after such a manner, as encouraged the one, and signified to the others, that he would sell his life dear to any one should attempt to take it from him, and so they came off;" for people are not willing to attack such kind of men, but pursue those they see are in a fright. This is the testimony of this great captain, which teaches us what we every day see, that nothing so much throws us into dangers as an inconsiderate eagerness of getting our selves clear of them. Quo timoris minus est, eò minus ferme periculi est.”—Livius, l. 22. Where there is least fear, there is, for the most part, least danger." Our people are to blame to say, that such a one is afraid of death, when he expresses that he thinks of it and foresees it: foresight is equally convenient in what concerns us, whether good or ill. To consider and judge of the danger, is, in some sort, the reverse to being astonish'd. I do not find my self strong enough to sustain the force and impetuosity of this passion of fear, nor of any other vehement passion whatever: if I was once conquer'd and beaten down, I should never rise again very sound. Whoever should once make my soul lose her footing, would never set it upright again: she retastes and researches her self too profoundly, and too much to the quick, and therefore would never let the wound she had receiv'd heal and cicatrize: it has been well for me that never any sickness has yet discompos'd it: at every charge made upon me, I make my utmost opposition, and best defence; by which means, the first that should rout me, would make me for ever rallying again: I have no after-game to play. On which side soever the inundation breaks my banks, I lie open, and am drown'd without remedy. Epicurus says, "that a wise man can never become a fool ;" and I have an opinion reverse to this

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