,,essays ,,of ,,michel ,,de ,,montaigne 
,translated by ,charles ,cotton  ,edited
 by ,william ,carew ,hazilitt  #ahgg    
,,contents ,,of ,,volume #aj4  ,,vii4   
,of recompenses of honour4 ,,viii4      
,of the affection of fathers to their   
children4 ,,ix4       ,of the arms of   
the ,parthians4 ,x4        ,of books4   
,,xi4       ,of cruelty4    ,,chapter   
,,vii  ,,of ,,recompenses ,,of ,,honour 
,they who write the life of ,augustus   
,caesar1--,suetonius1 ,life of          
,augustus1 c4  #be4--observe this in his
 military discipline1 that he was       
wonderfully liberal of gifts to men of  
merit1 but that as to the true          
recompenses of honour he was as sparing2
 yet he himself had been gratified by   
his uncle with all the military         
recompenses before he had ever been in  
the field4  ,it was a pretty invention1 
and received into most governments of   
the world1 to institute certain vain and
 in themselves valueless distinctions to
 honour and recompense virtue1 such as  

the crowns of laurel1 oak1 and myrtle1  
the particular fashion of some garment1 
the privilege to ride in a coach in the 
city1 or at night with a torch1 some    
peculiar place assigned in public       
assemblies1 the prerogative of certain  
additional names and titles1 certain    
distinctions in the bearing of coats of 
arms1 and the like1 the use of which1   
according to the several humours of     
nations1 has been variously received1   
and yet continues4  ,we in ,france1 as  
also several of our neighbours1 have    
orders of knighthood that are instituted
 only for this end4  ,and 'tis1 in      
earnest1 a very good and profitable     
custom to find out an acknowledgment for
 the worth of rare and excellent men1   
and to satisfy them with rewards that   
are not at all chargeable either to     
prince or people4  ,and that which has  
always been found by ancient experience1
 and which we have heretofore observed  
among ourselves1 that men of quality    
have ever been more jealous of such     

recompenses than of those wherein there 
was gain and profit1 is not without very
 good ground and reason4  ,if with the  
reward1 which ought to be simply a      
recompense of honour1 they should mix   
other commodities and add riches1 this  
mixture1 instead of procuring an        
increase of estimation1 would debase and
 abate it4  ,the ,order of ,st4         
,michael1 which has been so long in     
repute amongst us1 had no greater       
commodity than that it had no           
communication with any other commodity1 
which produced this effect1 that        
formerly there was no office or title   
whatever to which the gentry pretended  
with so great desire and affection as   
they did to that2 no quality that       
carried with it more respect and        
grandeur1 valour and worth more         
willingly embracing and with greater    
ambition aspiring to a recompense purely
 its own1 and rather glorious than      
profitable4  ,for1 in truth1 other gifts
 have not so great a dignity of usage1  

by reason they are laid out upon all    
sorts of occasions2 with money a man    
pays the wages of a servant1 the        
diligence of a courier1 dancing1        
vaulting1 speaking1 and the meanest     
offices we receive2 nay1 and reward vice
 with it too1 as flattery1 treachery1   
and pimping2 and therefore 'tis no      
wonder if virtue less desires and less  
willingly receives this common sort of  
payment1 than that which is proper and  
peculiar to her1 throughout generous and
 noble4  ,augustus had reason to be more
 sparing of this than the other1        
insomuch that honour is a privilege     
which derives its principal essence from
 rarity2 and so virtue itself3          
,cui malus est nemo1 quis bonus esse    
potest8       ,to whom no one is ill who
 can be good8-,martial1 xii4 #hb4  ,we  
do not intend it for a commendation when
 we say that such a one is careful in   
the education of his children1 by reason
 it is a common act1 how just and well  
done soever2 no more than we commend a  

great tree1 where the whole forest is   
the same4  ,i do not think that any     
citizen of ,sparta glorified himself    
much upon his valour1 it being the      
universal virtue of the whole nation2   
and as little upon his fidelity and     
contempt of riches4  ,there is no       
recompense becomes virtue1 how great    
soever1 that is once passed into a      
custom2 and ,i know not withal whether  
we can ever call it great1 being common4
  ,seeing1 then1 that these             
remunerations of honour have no other   
value and estimation but only this1 that
 few people enjoy them1 'tis but to be  
liberal of them to bring them down to   
nothing4  ,and though there should be   
now more men found than in former times 
worthy of our order1 the estimation of  
it nevertheless should not be abated1   
nor the honour made cheap2 and it may   
easily happen that more may merit it2   
for there is no virtue that so easily   
spreads as that of military valour4     
,there is another virtue1 true1 perfect1

 and philosophical1 of which ,i do not  
speak1 and only make use of the word in 
our common acceptation1 much greater    
than this and more full1 which is a     
force and assurance of the soul1 equally
 despising all sorts of adverse         
accidents1 equable1 uniform1 and        
constant1 of which ours is no more than 
one little ray4  ,use1 education1       
example1 and custom can do all in all to
 the establishment of that whereof ,i am
 speaking1 and with great facility      
render it common1 as by the experience  
of our civil wars is manifest enough2   
and whoever could at this time unite us 
all1 ,catholic and ,huguenot1 into one  
body1 and set us upon some brave common 
enterprise1 we should again make our    
ancient military reputation flourish4   
,it is most certain that in times past  
the recompense of this order had not    
only a regard to valour1 but had a      
further prospect2 it never was the      
reward of a valiant soldier but of a    
great captain2 the science of obeying   

was not reputed worthy of so honourable 
a guerdon4  ,there was therein a more   
universal military expertness required1 
and that comprehended the most and the  
greatest qualities of a military man3   
,neque enim eaedem militares et         
imperatorix artes sunt1       ,for the  
arts of soldiery and generalship are not
 the same4      --,livy1 xxv4 #ai4  as  
also1 besides1 a condition suitable to  
such a dignity4  ,but1 ,i say1 though   
more men were worthy than formerly1 yet 
ought it not to be more liberally       
distributed1 and it were better to fall 
short in not giving it at all to whom it
 should be due1 than for ever to lose1  
as we have lately done1 the fruit of so 
profitable an invention4  ,no man of    
spirit will deign to advantage himself  
with what is in common with many2 and   
such of the present time as have least  
merited this recompense themselves make 
the greater show of disdaining it1 in   
order thereby to be ranked with those to
 whom so much wrong has been done by the

 unworthy conferring and debasing the   
distinction which was their particular  
right4  ,now1 to expect that in         
obliterating and abolishing this1       
suddenly to create and bring into credit
 a like institution1 is not a proper    
attempt for so licentious and so sick a 
time as this wherein we now are2 and it 
will fall out that the last will from   
its birth incur the same inconveniences 
that have ruined the other4--,montaigne 
refers to the ,order of the             
,saint-,esprit1 instituted by ,henry    
,,iii4  in #aegh4--,the rules for       
dispensing this new order had need to be
 extremely clipt and bound under great  
restrictions1 to give it authority2 and 
this tumultuous season is incapable of  
such a curb3 besides that1 before this  
can be brought into repute1 'tis        
necessary that the memory of the first1 
and of the contempt into which it is    
fallen1 be buried in oblivion4  ,this   
place might naturally enough admit of   
some discourse upon the consideration of

 valour1 and the difference of this     
virtue from others2 but1 ,plutarch      
having so often handled this subject1 ,i
 should give myself an unnecessary      
trouble to repeat what he has said4     
,but this is worth considering3 that our
 nation places valour1 vaillance1 in the
 highest degree of virtue1 as its very  
word evidences1 being derived from      
valeur1 and that1 according to our use1 
when we say a man of high worth a good  
man1 in our court style--'tis to say a  
valiant man1 after the ,roman way2 for  
the general appellation of virtue with  
them takes etymology from vis1 force4   
,the proper1 sole1 and essential        
profession of1 the ,french noblesse is  
that of arms3 and 'tis likely that the  
first virtue that discovered itself     
amongst men and has given to some       
advantage over others1 was that by which
 the strongest and most valiant have    
mastered the weaker1 and acquired a     
particular authority and reputation1    
whence came to it that dignified        

appellation2 or else1 that these        
nations1 being very warlike1 gave the   
pre-eminence to that of the virtues     
which was most familiar to them2 just as
 our passion and the feverish solicitude
 we have of the chastity of women       
occasions that to say1 a good woman1 a  
woman of worth1 a woman of honour and   
virtue1 signifies merely a chaste woman 
as if1 to oblige them to that one duty1 
we were indifferent as to all the rest1 
and gave them the reins in all other    
faults whatever to compound for that one
 of incontinence4     ,,chapter ,,viii  
,,of ,,the ,,affection ,,of ,,fathers   
,,to ,,their ,,children  ,to ,madame    
,d',estissac4  ,,madam1 if the          
strangeness and novelty of my subject1  
which are wont to give value to things1 
do not save me1 ,i shall never come off 
with honour from this foolish attempt3  
but 'tis so fantastic1 and carries a    
face so unlike the common use1 that     
this1 peradventure1 may make it pass4   
',tis a melancholic humour1 and         

consequently a humour very much an enemy
 to my natural complexion1 engendered by
 the pensiveness of the solitude into   
which for some years past ,i have       
retired myself1 that first put into my  
head this idle fancy of writing4        
,wherein1 finding myself totally        
unprovided and empty of other matter1 ,i
 presented myself to myself for argument
 and subject4  ',tis the only book in   
the world of its kind1 and of a wild and
 extravagant design4  ,there is nothing 
worth remark in this affair but that    
extravagancy3 for in a subject so vain  
and frivolous1 the best workman in the  
world could not have given it a form fit
 to recommend it to any manner of       
esteem4  ,now1 madam1 having to draw my 
own picture to the life1 ,i had omitted 
one important feature1 had ,i not       
therein represented the honour ,i have  
ever had for you and your merits2 which 
,i have purposely chosen to say in the  
beginning of this chapter1 by reason    
that amongst the many other excellent   

qualities you are mistress of1 that of  
the tender love you have manifested to  
your children1 is seated in one of the  
highest places4 ,whoever knows at what  
age ,monsieur ,d',estissac1 your        
husband1 left you a widow1 the great and
 honourable matches that have since been
 offered to you1 as many as to any lady 
of your condition in ,france1 the       
constancy and steadiness wherewith1 for 
so many years1 you have sustained so    
many sharp difficulties1 the burden and 
conduct of affairs1 which have          
persecuted you in every corner of the   
kingdom1 and are not yet weary of       
tormenting you1 and the happy direction 
you have given to all these1 by your    
sole prudence or good fortune1 will     
easily conclude with me that we have not
 so vivid an example as yours of        
maternal affection in our times4 ,i     
praise ,god1 madam1 that it has been so 
well employed2 for the great hopes      
,monsieur ,d',estissac1 your son1 gives 
of himself1 render sufficient assurance 

that when he comes of age you will reap 
from him all the obedience and gratitude
 of a very good man4  ,but1 forasmuch as
 by reason of his tender years1 he has  
not been capable of taking notice of    
those offices of extremest value he has 
in so great number received from you1 ,i
 will1 if these papers shall one day    
happen to fall into his hands1 when ,i  
shall neither have mouth nor speech left
 to deliver it to him1 that he shall    
receive from me a true account of those 
things1 which shall be more effectually 
manifested to him by their own effects1 
by which he will understand that there  
is not a gentleman in ,france who stands
 more indebted to a mother's care2 and  
that he cannot1 in the future1 give a   
better nor more certain testimony of his
 own worth and virtue than by           
acknowledging you for that excellent    
mother you are4  ,if there be any law   
truly natural1 that is to say1 any      
instinct that is seen universally and   
perpetually imprinted in both beasts and

 men 7which is not without controversy71
 ,i can say1 that in my opinion1 next to
 the care every animal has of its own   
preservation1 and to avoid that which   
may hurt him1 the affection that the    
begetter bears to his offspring holds   
the second place in this rank4  ,and    
seeing that nature appears to have      
recommended it to us1 having regard to  
the extension and progression of the    
successive pieces of this machine of    
hers1 'tis no wonder if1 on the         
contrary1 that of children towards their
 parents is not so great4 ,to which we  
may add this other ,aristotelian        
consideration1 that he who confers a    
benefit on any one1 loves him better    
than he is beloved by him again3 that he
 to whom is owing1 loves better than he 
who owes2 and that every artificer is   
fonder of his work1 than1 if that work  
had sense1 it would be of him2 by reason
 that it is dear to us to be1 and to be 
consists in movement and action2        
therefore every one has in some sort a  

being in his work4  ,he who confers a   
benefit exercises a fine and honest     
action2 he who receives it exercises the
 useful only4  ,now the useful is much  
less lovable than the honest2 the honest
 is stable and permanent1 supplying him 
who has done it with a continual        
gratification4  ,the useful loses       
itself1 easily slides away1 and the     
memory of it is neither so fresh nor so 
pleasing4  ,those things are dearest to 
us that have cost us most1 and giving is
 more chargeable than receiving4  ,since
 it has pleased ,god to endue us with   
some capacity of reason1 to the end we  
may not1 like brutes1 be servilely      
subject and enslaved to the laws common 
to both1 but that we should by judgment 
and a voluntary liberty apply ourselves 
to them1 we ought1 indeed1 something to 
yield to the simple authority of nature1
 but not suffer ourselves to be         
tyrannically hurried away and           
transported by her2 reason alone should 
have the conduct of our inclinations4   

,i1 for my part1 have a strange disgust 
for those propensions that are started  
in us without the mediation and         
direction of the judgment1 as1 upon the 
subject ,i am speaking of1 ,i cannot    
entertain that passion of dandling and  
caressing infants scarcely born1 having 
as yet neither motion of soul nor shape 
of body distinguishable1 by which they  
can render themselves amiable1 and have 
not willingly suffered them to be nursed
 near me4  ,a true and regular affection
 ought to spring and increase with the  
knowledge they give us of themselves1   
and then1 if they are worthy of it1 the 
natural propension walking hand in hand 
with reason1 to cherish them with a     
truly paternal love2 and so to judge1   
also1 if they be otherwise1 still       
rendering ourselves to reason1          
notwithstanding the inclination of      
nature4 ',tis oft-times quite otherwise2
 and1 most commonly1 we find ourselves  
more taken with the running up and down1
 the games1 and puerile simplicities of 

our children1 than we do1 afterwards1   
with their most complete actions2 as if 
we had loved them for our sport1 like   
monkeys1 and not as men2 and some there 
are1 who are very liberal in buying them
 balls to play withal1 who are very     
close-handed for the least necessary    
expense when they come to age4  ,nay1 it
 looks as if the jealousy of seeing them
 appear in and enjoy the world when we  
are about to leave it1 rendered us more 
niggardly and stingy towards them2 it   
vexes us that they tread upon our heels1
 as if to solicit us to go out2 if this 
were to be feared1 since the order of   
things will have it so that they cannot1
 to speak the truth1 be nor live1 but at
 the expense of our being and life1 we  
should never meddle with being fathers  
at all4  ,for my part1 ,i think it      
cruelty and injustice not to receive    
them into the share and society of our  
goods1 and not to make them partakers in
 the intelligence of our domestic       
affairs when they are capable1 and not  

to lessen and contract our own expenses 
to make the more room for theirs1 seeing
 we beget them to that effect4  ',tis   
unjust that an old fellow1 broken and   
half dead1 should alone1 in a corner of 
the chimney1 enjoy the money that would 
suffice for the maintenance and         
advancement of many children1 and suffer
 them1 in the meantime1 to lose their'  
best years for want of means to advance 
themselves in the public service and the
 knowledge of men4  ,a man by this      
course drives them to despair1 and to   
seek out by any means1 how unjust or    
dishonourable soever1 to provide for    
their own support3 as ,i have1 in my    
time1 seen several young men of good    
extraction so addicted to stealing1 that
 no correction could cure them of it4   
,i know one of a very good family1 to   
whom1 at the request of a brother of    
his1 a very honest and brave gentleman1 
,i once spoke on this account1 who made 
answer1 and confessed to me roundly1    
that he had been put upon this paltry   

practice by the severity and avarice of 
his father2 but that he was now so      
accustomed to it he could not leave it  
off4  ,and1 at that very time1 he was   
trapped stealing a lady's rings1 having 
come into her chamber1 as she was       
dressing with several others4  ,he put  
me in mind of a story ,i had heard of   
another gentleman1 so perfect and       
accomplished in this fine trade in his  
youth1 that1 after he came to his estate
 and resolved to give it over1 he could 
not hold his hands1 nevertheless1 if he 
passed by a shop where he saw anything  
he liked1 from catching it up1 though it
 put him to the shame of sending        
afterwards to pay for it4  ,and ,i have 
myself seen several so habituated to    
this quality that even amongst their    
comrades they could not forbear         
filching1 though with intent to restore 
what they had taken4  ,i am a ,gascon1  
and yet there is no vice ,i so little   
understand as that2 ,i hate it something
 more by disposition than ,i condemn it 

by reason2 ,i do not so much as desire  
anything of another man's4  ,this       
province of ours is1 in plain truth1 a  
little more decried than the other parts
 of the kingdom2 and yet we have several
 times seen1 in our times1 men of good  
families of other provinces1 in the     
hands of justice1 convicted of          
abominable thefts4  ,i fear this vice   
is1 in some sort1 to be attributed to   
the fore-mentioned vice of the fathers4 
,and if a man should tell me1 as a lord 
of very good understanding once did1    
that he hoarded up wealth1 not to       
extract any other fruit and use from his
 parsimony1 but to make himself honoured
 and sought after by his relations2 and 
that age having deprived him of all     
other power1 it was the only remaining  
remedy to maintain his authority in his 
family1 and to keep him from being      
neglected and despised by all around1 in
 truth1 not only old age1 but all other 
imbecility1 according to ,aristotle1 is 
the promoter of avarice2 that is        

something1 but it is physic for a       
disease that a man should prevent the   
birth of4  ,a father is very miserable  
who has no other hold on his children's 
affection than the need they have of his
 assistance1 if that can be called      
affection2 he must render himself worthy
 to be respected by his virtue and      
wisdom1 and beloved by his kindness and 
the sweetness of his manners2 even the  
very ashes of a rich matter have their  
value2 and we are wont to have the bones
 and relics of worthy men in regard and 
reverence4  ,no old age can be so       
decrepid in a man who has passed his    
life in honour1 but it must be          
venerable1 especially to his children1  
whose soul he must have trained up to   
their duty by reason1 not by necessity  
and the need they have of him1 nor by   
harshness and compulsion3           ,et 
errat longe mea quidem sententia        
,qui imperium credat esse gravius1 aut  
stabilius1           ,vi quod fit1 quam 
illud1 quod amicitia adjungitur4        

,he wanders far from the truth1 in my   
opinion1 who thinks that      government
 more absolute and durable which is     
acquired by force than      that which  
is attached to friendship4--,terence1   
,adelph41 i4 ,i1 #dj4  ,i condemn all   
violence in the education of a tender   
soul that is designed for honour and    
liberty4  ,there is ,i know not what of 
servile in rigour and constraint2 and ,i
 am of opinion that what is not to be   
done by reason1 prudence1 and address1  
is never to be affected by force4  ,i   
myself was brought up after that manner2
 and they tell me that in all my first  
age ,i never felt the rod but twice1 and
 then very slightly4  ,i practised the  
same method with my children1 who all of
 them died at nurse1 except ,leonora1 my
 only daughter1 and who arrived to the  
age of five years and upward without    
other correction for her childish faults
 7her mother's indulgence easily        
concurring7 than words only1 and those  
very gentle2 in which kind of           

proceeding1 though my end and           
expectation should be both frustrated1  
there are other causes enough to lay the
 fault on without blaming my discipline1
 which ,i know to be natural and just1  
and ,i should1 in this1 have yet been   
more religious towards the males1 as    
less born to subjection and more free2  
and ,i should have made it my business  
to fill their hearts with ingenuousness 
and freedom4  ,i have never observed    
other effects of whipping than to render
 boys more cowardly1 or more wilfully   
obstinate4  ,do we desire to be beloved 
of our children8  ,will we remove from  
them all occasion of wishing our death  
though no occasion of so horrid a wish  
can either be just or excusable8        
,nullum scelus rationem habet4          
,no wickedness has reason4--,livy1      
xxviii4 #bh  ,let us reasonably         
accommodate their lives with what is in 
our power4  ,in order to this1 we should
 not marry so young that our age shall  
in a manner be confounded with theirs2  

for this inconvenience plunges us into  
many very great difficulties1 and       
especially the gentry of the nation1 who
 are of a condition wherein they have   
little to do1 and who live upon their   
rents only3 for elsewhere1 with people  
who live by their labour1 the plurality 
and company of children is an increase  
to the common stock2 they are so many   
new tools and instruments wherewith to  
grow rich4  ,i married at               
three-and-thirty years of age1 and      
concur in the opinion of thirty-five1   
which is said to be that of ,aristotle4 
,plato will have nobody marry before    
thirty2 but he has reason to laugh at   
those who undertook the work of marriage
 after five-and-fifty1 and condemns     
their offspring as unworthy of aliment  
and life4  ,thales gave the truest      
limits1 who1 young and being importuned 
by his mother to marry1 answered1 ,that 
it was too soon1 and1 being grown into  
years and urged again1 ,that it was too 
late4  ,a man must deny opportunity to  

every inopportune action4  ,the ancient 
,gauls' looked upon it as a very horrid 
thing for a man to have society with a  
woman before he was twenty years of age1
 and strictly recommended to the men who
 designed themselves for war the keeping
 their virginity till well grown in     
years1 forasmuch as courage is abated   
and diverted by intercourse with women3 
,ma1 or congiunto a giovinetta sposa1   
,e lieto omai de' figli1 era invilito   
,negli affetti di padre et di marito4   
,now1 married to a young wife and happy 
in children1 he was      demoralised by 
his love as father and husband4         
--,tasso1 ,gierus41 x4 #ci4  ,muley     
,hassam1 king of ,tunis1 he whom the    
,emperor ,charles ,v4 restored to his   
kingdom1 reproached the memory of his   
father ,mahomet with the frequentation  
of women1 styling him loose1 effeminate1
 and a getter of children4--,of whom he 
had thirty-four4--,the ,greek history   
observes of ,iccus the ,tarentine1 of   
,chryso1 ,astyllus1 ,diopompos1 and     

others1 that to keep their bodies in    
order for the ,olympic games and such   
like exercises1 they denied themselves  
during that preparation all commerce    
with ,venus4 ,in a certain country of   
the ,spanish ,indies men were not       
permitted to marry till after forty age1
 and yet the girls were allowed at ten4 
',tis not time for a gentleman of thirty
 years old to give place to his son who 
is twenty2 he is himself in a condition 
to serve both in the expeditions of war 
and in the court of his prince2 has need
 of all his appurtenances2 and yet1     
doubtless1 he ought to surrender a      
share1 but not so great an one as to    
forget himself for others2 and for such 
an one the answer that fathers have     
ordinarily in their mouths1 ,i will not 
put off my clothes1 before ,i go to bed1
 serves well4  ,but a father worn out   
with age and infirmities1 and deprived  
by weakness and want of health of the   
common society of men1 wrongs himself   
and his to amass a great heap of        

treasure4  ,he has lived long enough1 if
 he be wise1 to have a mind to strip    
himself to go to bed1 not to his very   
shirt1 ,i confess1 but to that and a    
good1 warm dressing-gown2 the remaining 
pomps1 of which he has no further use1  
he ought voluntarily to surrender to    
those1 to whom by the order of nature   
they belong4  ',tis reason he should    
refer the use of those things to them1  
seeing that nature has reduced him to   
such a state that he cannot enjoy them  
himself2 otherwise there is doubtless   
malice and envy in the case4  ,the      
greatest act of the ,emperor ,charles   
,v4 was that when1 in imitation of some 
of the ancients of his own quality1     
confessing it but reason to strip       
ourselves when our clothes encumber and 
grow too heavy for us1 and to lie down  
when our legs begin to fail us1 he      
resigned his possessions1 grandeur1 and 
power to his son1 when he found himself 
failing in vigour1 and steadiness for   
the conduct of his affairs suitable with

 the glory he had therein acquired3     
,solve senescentem mature sanus equum1  
ne           ,peccet ad extremum        
ridendus1 et ilia ducat4       ,dismiss 
the old horse in good time1 lest1       
failing in the lists1      the          
spectators laugh4--,horace1 ,epist41 i41
 ,i1 #h4  ,this fault of not perceiving 
betimes and of not being sensible of the
 feebleness and extreme alteration that 
age naturally brings both upon body and 
mind1 which1 in my opinion1 is equal1 if
 indeed the soul has not more than half1
 has lost the reputation of most of the 
great men in the world4  ,i have known  
in my time1 and been intimately         
acquainted with persons of great        
authority1 whom one might easily discern
 marvellously lapsed from the           
sufficiency ,i knew they were once      
endued with1 by the reputation they had 
acquired in their former years1 whom ,i 
could heartily1 for their own sakes1    
have wished at home at their ease1      
discharged of their public or military  

employments1 which were now grown too   
heavy for their shoulders4  ,i have     
formerly been very familiar in a        
gentleman's house1 a widower and very   
old1 though healthy and cheerful enough3
 this gentleman had several daughters to
 marry and a son already of ripe age1   
which brought upon him many visitors1   
and a great expense1 neither of which   
well pleased him1 not only out of       
consideration of frugality1 but yet more
 for having1 by reason of his age1      
entered into a course of life far       
differing from ours4  ,i told him one   
day a little boldly1 as ,i used to do1  
that he would do better to give us      
younger folk room1 and to leave his     
principal house 7for he had but that    
well placed and furnished7 to his son1  
and himself retire to an estate he had  
hard by1 where nobody would trouble his 
repose1 seeing he could not otherwise   
avoid being importuned by us1 the       
condition of his children considered4   
,he took my advice afterwards1 and found

 an advantage in so doing4  ,i do not   
mean that a man should so instal them as
 not to reserve to himself a liberty to 
retract2 ,i1 who am now arrived to the  
age wherein such things are fit to be   
done1 would resign to them the enjoyment
 of my house and goods1 but with a power
 of revocation if they should give me   
cause to alter my mind2 ,i would leave  
to them the use1 that being no longer   
convenient for me2 and1 of the general  
authority and power over all1 would     
reserve as much as--,i thought good to  
myself2 having always held that it must 
needs be a great satisfaction to an aged
 father himself to put his children into
 the way of governing his affairs1 and  
to have power during his own life to    
control their behaviour1 supplying them 
with instruction and advice from his own
 experience1 and himself to transfer the
 ancient honour and order of his house  
into the hands of those who are to      
succeed him1 and by that means to       
satisfy himself as to the hopes he may  

conceive of their future conduct4  ,and 
in order to this ,i would not avoid     
their company2 ,i would observe them    
near at hand1 and partake1 according to 
the condition of my age1 of their feasts
 and jollities4 ,if ,i did not live     
absolutely amongst them1 which ,i could 
not do without annoying them and their  
friends1 by reason of the morosity of my
 age and the restlessness of my         
infirmities1 and without violating also 
the rules and order of living ,i should 
then have set down to myself1 ,i would1 
at least1 live near them in some retired
 part of my house1 not the best in show1
 but the most commodious4  ,nor as ,i   
saw some years ago1 a dean of ,st4      
,hilary of ,poitiers given up to such a 
solitude1 that at the time ,i came into 
his chamber it had been two and twenty  
years that he had not stepped one foot  
out of it1 and yet had all his motions  
free and easy1 and was in good health1  
saving a cold that fell upon his lungs2 
he would1 hardly once in a week1 suffer 

any one to come in to see him2 he always
 kept himself shut up in his chamber    
alone1 except that a servant brought    
him1 once a day1 something to eat1 and  
did then but just come in and go out    
again4  ,his employment was to walk up  
and down1 and read some book1 for he was
 a bit of a scholar2 but1 as to the     
rest1 obstinately bent to die in this   
retirement1 as he soon after did4  ,i   
would endeavour by pleasant conversation
 to create in my children a warm and    
unfeigned friendship and good-will      
towards me1 which in well-descended     
natures is not hard to do2 for if they  
be furious brutes1 of which this age of 
ours produces thousands1 we are then to 
hate and avoid them as such4  ,i am     
angry at the custom of forbidding       
children to call their father by the    
name of father1 and to enjoin them      
another1 as more full of respect and    
reverence1 as if nature had not         
sufficiently provided for our authority4
  ,we call ,almighty ,god ,father1 and  

disdain to have our children call us so2
 ,i have reformed this error in my      
family4--,as did ,henry ,,iv4 of        
,france--,and 'tis also folly and       
injustice to deprive children1 when     
grown up1 of familiarity with their     
father1 and to carry a scornful and     
austere countenance toward them1        
thinking by that to keep them in awe and
 obedience2 for it is a very idle farce 
that1 instead of producing the effect   
designed1 renders fathers distasteful1  
and1 which is worse1 ridiculous to their
 own children4  ,they have youth and    
vigour in possession1 and consequently  
the breath and favour of the world2 and 
therefore receive these fierce and      
tyrannical looks--mere scarecrows-- of a
 man without blood1 either in his heart 
or veins1 with mockery and contempt4    
,though ,i could make myself feared1 ,i 
had yet much rather make myself beloved3
 there are so many sorts of defects in  
old age1 so much imbecility1 and it is  
so liable to contempt1 that the best    

acquisition a man can make is the       
kindness and affection of his own       
family2 command and fear are no longer  
his weapons4  ,such an one ,i have known
 who1 having been very imperious in his 
youth1 when he came to be old1 though he
 might have lived at his full ease1     
would ever strike1 rant1 swear1 and     
curse3 the most violent householder in  
,france3 fretting himself with          
unnecessary suspicion and vigilance4    
,and all this rumble and clutter but to 
make his family cheat him the more2 of  
his barn1 his kitchen1 cellar1 nay1 and 
his very purse too1 others had the      
greatest use and share1 whilst he keeps 
his keys in his pocket much more        
carefully than his eyes4  ,whilst he    
hugs himself with the pitiful frugality 
of a niggard table1 everything goes to  
rack and ruin in every corner of his    
house1 in play1 drink1 all sorts of     
profusion1 making sport in their junkets
 with his vain anger and fruitless      
parsimony4  ,every one is a sentinel    

against him1 and if1 by accident1 any   
wretched fellow that serves him is of   
another humour1 and will not join with  
the rest1 he is presently rendered      
suspected to him1 a bait that old age   
very easily bites at of itself4  ,how   
often has this gentleman boasted to me  
in how great awe he kept his family1 and
 how exact an obedience and reverence   
they paid him6  ,how clearly he saw into
 his own affairs6                       
,ille solos nescit omnia4            ,he
 alone is ignorant of all that is       
passing4           --,terence1 ,adelph41
 iv4  #b1 #i4  ,i do not know any one   
that can muster more parts1 both natural
 and acquired1 proper to maintain       
dominion1 than he2 yet he is fallen from
 it like a child4  ,for this reason it  
is that ,i have picked out him1 amongst 
several others that ,i know of the same 
humour1 for the greatest example4 ,it   
were matter for a question in the       
schools1 whether he is better thus or   
otherwise4  ,in his presence1 all submit

 to and bow to him1 and give so much way
 to his vanity that nobody ever resists 
him2 he has his fill of assents1 of     
seeming fear1 submission1 and respect4  
,does he turn away a servant8 he packs  
up his bundle1 and is gone2 but 'tis no 
further than just out of his sight3 the 
steps of old age are so slow1 the senses
 so troubled1 that he will live and do  
his old office in the same house a year 
together without being perceived4  ,and 
after a fit interval of time1 letters   
are pretended to come from a great way  
off2 very humble1 suppliant2 and full of
 promises of amendment1 by virtue of    
which he is again received into favour4 
,does ,monsieur make any bargain1 or    
prepare any despatch that does not      
please8 'tis suppressed1 and causes     
afterwards forged to excuse the want of 
execution in the one or answer in the   
other4  ,no letters being first brought 
to him1 he never sees any but those that
 shall seem fit for his knowledge4 ,if  
by accident they fall first into his own

 hand1 being used to trust somebody to  
read them to him2 he reads extempore    
what he thinks fit1 and often makes such
 a one ask him pardon who abuses and    
rails at him in his letter4  ,in short1 
he sees nothing1 but by an image        
prepared and designed beforehand and the
 most satisfactory they can invent1 not 
to rouse and awaken his ill humour and  
choler4  ,i have seen1 under various    
aspects1 enough of these modes of       
domestic government1 long-enduring1     
constant1 to the like effect4  ,women   
are evermore addicted to cross their    
husbands3 they lay hold with both hands 
on all occasions to contradict and      
oppose them2 the first excuse serves for
 a plenary justification4  ,i have seen 
one who robbed her husband wholesale1   
that1 as she told her confessor1 she    
might distribute the more liberal alms4 
,let who will trust to that religious   
dispensation4  ,no management of affairs
 seems to them of sufficient dignity1 if
 proceeding from the husband's assent2  

they must usurp it either by insolence  
or cunning1 and always injuriously1 or  
else it has not the grace and authority 
they desire4  ,when1 as in the case ,i  
am speaking of1 'tis against a poor old 
man and for the children1 then they make
 use of this title to serve their       
passion with glory2 and1 as for a common
 service1 easily cabal1 and combine     
against his government and dominion4    
,if they be males grown up in full and  
flourishing health1 they presently      
corrupt1 either by force or favour1     
steward1 receivers1 and all the rout4   
,such as have neither wife nor son do   
not so easily fall into this misfortune2
 but withal more cruelly and unworthily4
  ,cato the elder in his time said3 ,so 
many servants1 so many enemies2         
consider1 then1 whether according to the
 vast difference between the purity of  
the age he lived in and the corruption  
of this of ours1 he does not seem to    
shew us that wife1 son1 and servant1 are
 so many enemies to us8  ',tis well for 

old age that it is always accompanied by
 want of observation1 ignorance1 and a  
proneness to being deceived4 ,for should
 we see how we are used and would not   
acquiesce1 what would become of us8     
especially in such an age as this1 where
 the very judges who are to determine   
our controversies are usually partisans 
to the young1 and interested in the     
cause4 ,in case the discovery of this   
cheating escape me1 ,i cannot at least  
fail to discern that ,i am very fit to  
be cheated4  ,and can a man ever enough 
exalt the value of a friend1 in         
comparison with these civil ties8  ,the 
very image of it which ,i see in beasts1
 so pure and uncorrupted1 how           
religiously do ,i respect it6  ,if      
others deceive me1 yet do ,i not1 at    
least1 deceive myself in thinking ,i am 
able to defend myself from them1 or in  
cudgelling my brains to make myself so4 
,i protect myself from such treasons in 
my own bosom1 not by an unquiet and     
tumultuous curiosity1 but rather by     

diversion and resolution4  ,when ,i hear
 talk of any one's condition1 ,i never  
trouble myself to think of him2 ,i      
presently turn my eyes upon myself to   
see in what condition ,i am2 whatever   
concerns another relates to me2 the     
accident that has befallen him gives me 
caution1 and rouses me to turn my       
defence that way4  ,we every day and    
every hour say things of another that we
 might properly say of ourselves1 could 
we but apply our observation to our own 
concerns1 as well as extend it to       
others4  ,and several authors have in   
this manner prejudiced their own cause  
by running headlong upon those they     
attack1 and darting those shafts against
 their enemies1 that are more properly1 
and with greater advantage1 to be turned
 upon themselves4  ,the late ,mareschal 
de ,montluc having lost his son1 who    
died in the island of ,madeira1 in truth
 a very worthy gentleman and of great   
expectation1 did to me1 amongst his     
other regrets1 very much insist upon    

what a sorrow and heart-breaking it was 
that he had never made himself familiar 
with him2 and by that humour of paternal
 gravity and grimace to have lost the   
opportunity of having an insight into   
and of well knowing1 his son1 as also of
 letting him know the extreme affection 
he had for him1 and the worthy opinion  
he had of his virtue4  ,that poor boy1  
said he1 never saw in me other than a   
stern and disdainful countenance1 and is
 gone in a belief that ,i neither knew  
how to love him nor esteem him according
 to his desert4  ,for whom did ,i       
reserve the discovery of that singular  
affection ,i had for him in my soul8    
,was it not he himself1 who ought to    
have had all the pleasure of it1 and all
 the obligation8  ,i constrained and    
racked myself to put on1 and maintain   
this vain disguise1 and have by that    
means deprived myself of the pleasure of
 his conversation1 and1 ,i doubt1 in    
some measure1 his affection1 which could
 not but be very cold to me1 having     

never other from me than austerity1 nor 
felt other than a tyrannical manner of  
proceeding4       ,madame de ,sevigne   
tells us that she never read this       
passage without      tears in her eyes4 
,my ,god6 she exclaims1 how full is this
 book      of good sense6  ,ed4  ,i find
 this complaint to be rational and      
rightly apprehended3 for1 as ,i myself  
know by too certain experience1 there is
 no so sweet consolation in the loss of 
friends as the conscience of having had 
no reserve or secret for them1 and to   
have had with them a perfect and entire 
communication4  ,oh my friend1--,la     
,boetie4 am ,i the better for being     
sensible of this2 or am ,i the worse8   
,i am1 doubtless1 much the better4 ,i am
 consoled and honoured1 in the sorrow   
for his death4  ,is it not a pious and a
 pleasing office of my life to be always
 upon my friend's obsequies8  ,can there
 be any joy equal to this privation8  ,i
 open myself to my family1 as much as ,i
 can1 and very willingly let them know  

the state of my opinion and good will   
towards them1 as ,i do to everybody     
else3 ,i make haste to bring out and    
present myself to them2 for ,i will not 
have them mistaken in me1 in anything4  
,amongst other particular customs of our
 ancient ,gauls1 this1 as ,caesar       
reports1--,de ,bello ,gall41 vi4        
r#h4--was one1 that the sons never      
presented themselves before their       
fathers1 nor durst ever appear in their 
company in public1 till they began to   
bear arms2 as if they would intimate by 
this1 that it was also time for their   
fathers to receive them into their      
familiarity and acquaintance4  ,i have  
observed yet another sort of            
indiscretion in fathers of my time1     
that1 not contented with having deprived
 their children1 during their own long  
lives1 of the share they naturally ought
 to have had in their fortunes1 they    
afterwards leave to their wives the same
 authority over their estates1 and      
liberty to dispose of them according to 

their own fancy4  ,and ,i have known a  
certain lord1 one of the principal      
officers of the crown1 who1 having in   
reversion above fifty thousand crowns   
yearly revenue1 died necessitous and    
overwhelmed with debt at above fifty    
years of age2 his mother in her         
extremest decrepitude being yet in      
possession of all his property by the   
will of his father1 who had1 for his    
part1 lived till near fourscore years   
old4  ,this appears to me by no means   
reasonable4  ,and therefore ,i think it 
of very little advantage to a man1 whose
 affairs are well enough1 to seek a wife
 who encumbers his estate with a very   
great fortune2 there is no sort of      
foreign debt that brings more ruin to   
families than this3 my predecessors have
 ever been aware of that danger and     
provided against it1 and so have ,i4    
,but those who dissuade us from rich    
wives1 for fear they should be less     
tractable and kind1 are out in their    
advice to make a man lose a real        

commodity for so frivolous a conjecture4
  ,it costs an unreasonable woman no    
more to pass over one reason than       
another2 they cherish themselves most   
where they are most wrong4  ,injustice  
allures them1 as the honour of their    
virtuous actions does the good2 and the 
more riches they bring with them1 they  
are so much the more good-natured1 as   
women1 who are handsome1 are all the    
more inclined and proud to be chaste4   
',tis reasonable to leave the           
administration of affairs to the        
mothers1 till the children are old      
enough1 according to law1 to manage     
them2 but the father has brought them1  
up very ill1 if he cannot hope that1    
when they come to maturity1 they will   
have more wisdom and ability in the     
management of affairs than his wife1    
considering the ordinary weakness of the
 sex4  ,it were1 notwithstanding1 to say
 the truth1 more against nature to make 
the mothers depend upon the discretion  
of their children2 they ought to be     

plentifully provided for1 to maintain   
themselves according to their quality   
and age1 by reason that necessity and   
indigence are much more unbecoming and  
insupportable to them than to men2 the  
son should rather be cut short than the 
mother4  ,in general1 the most judicious
 distribution of our goods1 when we come
 to die1 is1 in my opinion1 to let them 
be distributed according to the custom  
of the country2 the laws have considered
 the matter better than we know how to  
do1 and 'tis wiser to let them fail in  
their appointment1 than rashly to run   
the hazard of miscarrying in ours4  ,nor
 are the goods properly ours1 since1 by 
civil prescription and without us1 they 
are all destined to certain successors4 
,and although we have some liberty      
beyond that1 yet ,i think we ought not1 
without great and manifest cause1 to    
take away that from one which his       
fortune has allotted him1 and to which  
the public equity gives him title2 and  
that it is against reason to abuse this 

liberty1 in making it serve our own     
frivolous and private fancies4 ,my      
destiny has been kind to me in not      
presenting me with occasions to tempt me
 and divert my affection from the common
 and legitimate institution4  ,i see    
many with whom 'tis time lost to employ 
a long exercise of good offices3 a word 
ill taken obliterates ten years' merit2 
he is happy who is in a position to oil 
their goodwill at this last passage4    
,the last action carries it1 not the    
best and most frequent offices1 but the 
most recent and present do the work4    
,these are people that play with their  
wills as with apples or rods1 to gratify
 or chastise every action of those who  
pretend to an interest in their care4   
',tis a thing of too great weight and   
consequence to be so tumbled and tossed 
and altered every moment1 and wherein   
the wise determine once for all1 having 
above all things regard to reason and   
the public observance4  ,we lay these   
masculine substitutions too much to     

heart1 proposing a ridiculous eternity  
to our names4  ,we are1 moreover1 too   
superstitious in vain conjectures as to 
the future1 that we derive from the     
words and actions of children4          
,peradventure they might have done me an
 injustice1 in dispossessing me of my   
right1 for having been the most dull and
 heavy1 the most slow and unwilling at  
my book1 not of all my brothers only1   
but of all the boys in the whole        
province3 whether about learning my     
lesson1 or about any bodily exercise4   
',tis a folly to make an election out of
 the ordinary course upon the credit of 
these divinations wherein we are so     
often deceived4  ,if the ordinary rule  
of descent were to be violated1 and the 
destinies corrected in the choice they  
have made of our heirs1 one might more  
plausibly do it upon the account of some
 remarkable and enormous personal       
deformity1 a permanent and incorrigible 
defect1 and in the opinion of us        
,french1 who are great admirers of      

beauty1 an important prejudice4  ,the   
pleasant dialogue betwixt ,plato's      
legislator and his citizens will be an  
ornament to this place1 ,what1 said     
they1 feeling themselves about to die1  
may we not dispose of our own to whom we
 please8  ,god6  what cruelty that it   
shall not be lawful for us1 according as
 we have been served and attended in our
 sickness1 in our old age1 in our       
affairs1 to give more or less to those  
whom we have found most diligent about  
us1 at our own fancy and discretion6    
,to which the legislator answers thus3  
,my friends1 who are now1 without       
question1 very soon to die1 it is hard  
for you in the condition you are1 either
 to know yourselves1 or what is yours1  
according to the delphic inscription4   
,i1 who make the laws1 am of opinion1   
that you neither are yourselves your    
own1 nor is that yours of which you are 
possessed4  ,both your goods and you    
belong to your families1 as well those  
past as those to come2 but1 further1    

both your family and goods much more    
appertain to the public4  ,wherefore1   
lest any flatterer in your old age or in
 your sickness1 or any passion of your  
own1 should unseasonably prevail with   
you to make an unjust will1 ,i shall    
take care to prevent that inconvenience2
 but1 having respect both to the        
universal interests of the city and that
 of your particular family1 ,i shall    
establish laws1 and make it by good     
reasons appear1 that private convenience
 ought to give place to the common      
benefit4  ,go then cheerfully where     
human necessity calls you4  ,it is for  
me1 who regard no more the one thing    
than the other1 and who1 as much as in  
me lies1 am provident of the public     
interest1 to have a care as to what you 
leave behind you4  ,to return to my     
subject3 it appears to me that women are
 very rarely born1 to whom the          
prerogative over men1 the maternal and  
natural excepted1 is in any sort due1   
unless it be for the punishment of such1

 as in some amorous fever have          
voluntarily submitted themselves to     
them3 but that in no way concerns the   
old ones1 of whom we are now speaking4  
,this consideration it is which has made
 us so willingly to enact and give force
 to that law1 which was never yet seen  
by any one1 by which women are excluded 
the succession to our crown3 and there  
is hardly a government in the world     
where it is not pleaded1 as it is here1 
by the probability of reason that       
authorises it1 though fortune has given 
it more credit in some places than in   
others4  ',tis dangerous to leave the   
disposal of our succession to their     
judgment1 according to the choice they  
shall make of children1 which is often  
fantastic and unjust2 for the irregular 
appetites and depraved tastes they have 
during the time of their being with     
child1 they have at all other times in  
the mind4  ,we commonly see them fond of
 the most weak1 ricketty1 and deformed  
children2 or of those1 if they have     

such1 as are still hanging at the       
breast4  ,for1 not having sufficient    
force of reason to choose and embrace   
that which is most worthy1 they the more
 willingly suffer themselves to be      
carried away1 where the impressions of  
nature are most alone2 like animals that
 know their young no longer than they   
give them suck4  ,as to the rest1 it is 
easy by experience to be discerned that 
this natural affection to which we give 
so great authority has but very weak    
roots4  ,for a very little profit1 we   
every day tear their own children out of
 the mothers' arms1 and make them take  
ours in their room3 we make them abandon
 their own to some pitiful nurse1 to    
whom we disdain to commit ours1 or to   
some she-goat1 forbidding them1 not only
 to give them suck1 what danger soever  
they run thereby1 but1 moreover1 to take
 any manner of care of them1 that they  
may wholly be occupied with the care of 
and attendance upon ours2 and we see in 
most of them an adulterate affection1   

more vehement than the natural1 begotten
 by custom toward the foster children1  
and a greater solicitude for the        
preservation of those they have taken   
charge of1 than of their own4  ,and that
 which ,i was saying of goats was upon  
this account2 that it is ordinary all   
about where ,i live1 to see the         
countrywomen1 when they want milk of    
their own for their children1 to call   
goats to their assistance2 and ,i have  
at this hour two men-servants that never
 sucked women's milk more than eight    
days after they were born4 ,these goats 
are immediately taught to come to suckle
 the little children1 know their voices 
when they cry1 and come running to them4
  ,if any other than this foster-child  
be presented to them1 they refuse to let
 it suck2 and the child in like manner  
will refuse to suck another goat4  ,i   
saw one the other day from whom they had
 taken away the goat that used to       
nourish it1 by reason the father had    
only borrowed it of a neighbour2 the    

child would not touch any other they    
could bring1 and died1 doubtless of     
hunger4  ,beasts as easily alter and    
corrupt their natural affection as we3  
,i believe that in what ,herodotus      
relates of a certain district of ,lybia1
 there are many mistakes2 he says that  
the women are there in common2 but that 
the child1 so soon as it can go1 finds  
him out in the crowd for his father1 to 
whom he is first led by his natural     
inclination4  ,now1 to consider this    
simple reason for loving our children1  
that we have begot them1 therefore      
calling them our second selves1 it      
appears1 methinks1 that there is another
 kind of production proceeding from us1 
that is of no less recommendation3 for  
that which we engender by the soul1 the 
issue of our understanding1 courage1 and
 abilities1 springs from nobler parts   
than those of the body1 and that are    
much more our own3 we are both father   
and mother in this generation4  ,these  
cost us a great deal more and bring us  

more honour1 if they have anything of   
good in them4  ,for the value of our    
other children is much more theirs than 
ours2 the share we have in them is very 
little2 but of these all the beauty1 all
 the grace and value1 are ours2 and also
 they more vividly represent us than the
 others4  ,plato adds1 that these are   
immortal children that immortalise and  
deify their fathers1 as ,lycurgus1      
,solon1 ,minos4  ,now1 histories being  
full of examples of the common affection
 of fathers to their children1 it seems 
not altogether improper to introduce    
some few of this other kind4            
,heliodorus1 that good bishop of        
,trikka1 rather chose to lose the       
dignity1 profit1 and devotion of so     
venerable a prelacy1 than to lose his   
daughter2 a daughter that continues to  
this day very graceful and comely2 but1 
peradventure1 a little too curiously and
 wantonly tricked1 and too amorous for  
an ecclesiastical and sacerdotal        
daughter4 ,there was one ,labienus at   

,rome1 a man of great worth and         
authority1 and amongst other qualities  
excellent in all sorts of literature1   
who was1 as ,i take it1 the son of that 
great ,labienus1 the chief of ,caesar's 
captains in the wars of ,gaul2 and who1 
afterwards1 siding with ,pompey the     
great1 so valiantly maintained his      
cause1 till he was by ,caesar defeated  
in ,spain4  ,this ,labienus1 of whom ,i 
am now speaking1 had several enemies1   
envious of his good qualities1 and1 tis 
likely1 the courtiers and minions of the
 emperors of his time who were very     
angry at his freedom and the paternal   
humour which he yet retained against    
tyranny1 with which it is to be supposed
 he had tinctured his books and         
writings4  ,his adversaries prosecuted  
several pieces he had published before  
the magistrates at ,rome1 and prevailed 
so far against him1 as to have them     
condemned to the fire4  ,it was in him  
that this new example of punishment was 
begun1 which was afterwards continued   

against others at ,rome1 to punish even 
writing and studies with death4  ,there 
would not be means and matter enough of 
cruelty1 did we not mix with them things
 that nature has exempted from all sense
 and suffering1 as reputation and the   
products of the mind1 and did we not    
communicate corporal punishments to the 
teachings and monuments of the ,muses4  
,now1 ,labienus could not suffer this   
loss1 nor survive these his so dear     
issue1 and therefore caused himself to  
be conveyed and shut up alive in the    
monument of his ancestors1 where he made
 shift to kill and bury himself at once4
  ',tis hard to shew a more vehement    
paternal affection than this4  ,cassius 
,severus1 a man of great eloquence and  
his very intimate friend1 seeing his    
books burned1 cried out that by the same
 sentence they should as well condemn   
him to the fire too1 seeing that he     
carried in his memory all that they     
contained4  ,the like accident befel    
,cremutius ,cordus1 who being accused of

 having in his books commended ,brutus  
and ,cassius1 that dirty1 servile1 and  
corrupt ,senate1 worthy a worse master  
than ,tiberius1 condemned his writings  
to the flame4  ,he was willing to bear  
them company1 and killed himself with   
fasting4  ,the good ,lucan1 being       
condemned by that rascal ,nero1 at the  
last gasp of his life1 when the greater 
part of his blood was already spent     
through the veins of his arms1 which he 
had caused his physician to open to make
 him die1 and when the cold had seized  
upon all his extremities1 and began to  
approach his vital parts1 the last thing
 he had in his memory was some of the   
verses of his ,battle of ,phaysalia1    
which he recited1 dying with them in his
 mouth4  ,what was this1 but taking a   
tender and paternal leave of his        
children1 in imitation of the           
valedictions and embraces1 wherewith we 
part from ours1 when we come to die1 and
 an effect of that natural inclination1 
that suggests to our remembrance in this

 extremity those things which were      
dearest to us during the time of our    
life8  ,can we believe that ,epicurus   
who1 as he says himself1 dying of the   
intolerable pain of the stone1 had all  
his consolation in the beauty of the    
doctrine he left behind him1 could have 
received the same satisfaction from many
 children1 though never so              
well-conditioned and brought up1 had he 
had them1 as he did from the production 
of so many rich writings8  ,or that1 had
 it been in his choice to have left     
behind him a deformed and untoward child
 or a foolish and ridiculous book1 he1  
or any other man of his understanding1  
would not rather have chosen to have run
 the first misfortune than the other8   
,it had been1 for example1 peradventure1
 an impiety in ,st4 ,augustin1 if1 on   
the one hand1 it had been proposed to   
him to bury his writings1 from which    
religion has received so great fruit1 or
 on the other to bury his children1 had 
he had them1 had he not rather chosen to

 bury his children4  ,and ,i know not   
whether ,i had not much rather have     
begot a very beautiful one1 through     
society with the ,muses1 than by lying  
with my wife4  ,to this1 such as it is1 
what ,i give it ,i give absolutely and  
irrevocably1 as men do to their bodily  
children4  ,that little ,i have done for
 it1 is no more at my own disposal2 it  
may know many things that are gone from 
me1 and from me hold that which ,i have 
not retained2 and which1 as well as a   
stranger1 ,i should borrow thence1      
should ,i stand in need4  ,if ,i am     
wiser than my book1 it is richer than   
,i4  ,there are few men addicted to     
poetry1 who would not be much prouder to
 be the father to the ,a,eneid than to  
the handsomest youth of ,rome2 and who  
would not much better bear the loss of  
the one than of the other4  ,for        
according to ,aristotle1 the poet1 of   
all artificers1 is the fondest of his   
work4  ',tis hard to believe that       
,epaminondas1 who boasted that in lieu  

of all posterity he left two daughters  
behind him that would one day do their  
father honour 7meaning the two victories
 he obtained over the ,lacedaemonians71 
would willingly have consented to       
exchange these for the most beautiful   
creatures of all ,greece2 or that       
,alexander or ,caesar ever wished to be 
deprived of the grandeur of their       
glorious exploits in war1 for the       
convenience of children and heirs1 how  
perfect and accomplished soever4  ,nay1 
,i make a great question1 whether       
,phidias or any other excellent sculptor
 would be so solicitous of the          
preservation and continuance of his     
natural children1 as he would be of a   
rare statue1 which with long labour and 
study he had perfected according to art4
  ,and to those furious and irregular   
passions that have sometimes inflamed   
fathers towards their own daughters1 and
 mothers towards their own sons1 the    
like is also found in this other sort of
 parentage3 witness what is related of  

,pygmalion who1 having made the statue  
of a woman of singular beauty1 fell so  
passionately in love with this work of  
his1 that the gods in favour of his     
passion inspired it with life4          
,tentatum mollescit ebur1 positoque     
rigore1                ,subsidit        
digitis4       ,the ivory grows soft    
under his touch and yields to his       
fingers4      --,ovid1 ,metam41 x4 #bhc4
     ,,chapter ,,ix  ,,of ,,the ,,arms  
,,of ,,the ,,parthians  ',tis an ill    
custom and unmanly that the gentlemen of
 our time have got1 not to put on arms  
but just upon the point of the most     
extreme necessity1 and to lay them by   
again1 so soon as ever there is any show
 of the danger being over2 hence many   
disorders arise2 for every one bustling 
and running to his arms just when he    
should go to charge1 has his cuirass to 
buckle on when his companions are       
already put to rout4  ,our ancestors    
were wont to give their head-piece1     
lance and gauntlets to be carried1 but  

never put off the other pieces so long  
as there was any work to be done4  ,our 
troops are now cumbered and rendered    
unsightly with the clutter of baggage   
and servants who cannot be from their   
masters1 by reason they carry their     
arms4  ,titus ,livius speaking of our   
nation3       ,intolerantissima laboris 
corpora vix arma humeris gerebant4      
,bodies most impatient of labour could  
scarce endure to wear      their arms on
 their shoulders4--,livy1 x4 #bh4  ,many
 nations do yet1 and did anciently1 go  
to war without defensive arms1 or with  
such1 at least1 as were of very little  
proof3            ,tegmina queis        
capitum1 raptus de subere cortex4       
,to whom the coverings of the heads were
 the bark of the                        
cork-tree4--,a,eneid1 vii4 #gdb4        
,alexander1 the most adventurous captain
 that ever was1 very seldom wore armour1
 and such amongst us as slight it1 do   
not by that much harm to the main       
concern2 for if we see some killed for  

want of it1 there are few less whom the 
lumber of arms helps to destroy1 either 
by being overburthened1 crushed1 and    
cramped with their weight1 by a rude    
shock1 or otherwise4  ,for1 in plain    
truth1 to observe the weight and        
thickness of the armour we have now in  
use1 it seems as if we only sought to   
defend ourselves1 and are rather loaded 
than secured by it4  ,we have enough to 
do to support its weight1 being so      
manacled and immured1 as if we were only
 to contend with our own arms1 and as if
 we had not the same obligation to      
defend them1 that they have to defend   
us4  ,tacitus gives a pleasant          
description of the men-at-arms among our
 ancient ,gauls1 who were so armed as   
only to be able to stand1 without power 
to harm or to be harmed1 or to rise     
again if once struck down4  ,lucullus1  
seeing certain soldiers of the ,medes1  
who formed the van of ,tigranes' army1  
heavily armed and very uneasy1 as if in 
prisons of iron1 thence conceived hopes 

with great ease to defeat them1 and by  
them began his charge and victory4 ,and 
now that our musketeers are in credit1  
,i believe some invention will be found 
out to immure us for our safety1 and to 
draw us to the war in castles1 such as  
those the ancients loaded their         
elephants withal4  ,this humour is far  
differing from that of the younger      
,scipio1 who sharply reprehended his    
soldiers for having planted caltrops    
under water1 in a ditch by which those  
of the town he held besieged might sally
 out upon him2 saying1 that those who   
assaulted should think of attacking1 and
 not to fear2 suspecting1 with good     
reason1 that this stop they had put to  
the enemies1 would make themselves less 
vigilant upon their guard4  ,he said    
also to a young man1 who showed him a   
fine buckler he had1 that he was very   
proud of1 ,it is a very fine buckler    
indeed1 but a ,roman soldier ought to   
repose greater confidence in his right  
hand than in his left4  ,now 'tis       

nothing but the not being used to wear  
it that makes the weight of our armour  
so intolerable3           ,l'usbergo in 
dosso haveano1 et l'elmo in testa1      
,due di questi guerrier1 de' quali io   
canto2           ,ne notte o di1 d'     
appoi ch' entraro in questa             
,stanza1 gl'haveano mai messi da canto2 
,che facile a portar come la vesta      
,era lor1 perche in uso l'havean tanto3 
,two of the warriors1 of whom ,i sing1  
had on their backs their      cuirass   
and on their heads their casque1 and    
never had night or day      once laid   
them by1 whilst here they were2 those   
arms1 by long      practice1 were grown 
as light to bear as a garment           
--,ariosto1 ,cant41 ,,mi4 #cj4  the     
,emperor ,caracalla was wont to march on
 foot1 completely armed1 at the head of 
his army4  ,the ,roman infantry always  
carried not only a morion1 a sword1 and 
a shield 7for as to arms1 says ,cicero1 
they were so accustomed to have them    
always on1 that they were no more       

trouble to them than their own limbs73  
,arma enim membra militis esse dicunt4  
but1 moreover1 fifteen days' provision1 
together with a certain number of       
stakes1 wherewith to fortify their camp1
 sixty pounds in weight4  ,and ,marius' 
soldiers1 laden at the same rate1 were  
inured to march in order of battle five 
leagues in five hours1 and sometimes1   
upon any urgent occasion1 six4  ,their  
military discipline was much ruder than 
ours1 and accordingly produced much     
greater effects4  ,the younger ,scipio1 
reforming his army in ,spain1 ordered   
his soldiers to eat standing1 and       
nothing that was drest4 ,the jeer that  
was given a ,lacedaemonian soldier is   
marvellously pat to this purpose1 who1  
in an expedition of war1 was reproached 
for having been seen under the roof of a
 house3 they were so inured to hardship 
that1 let the weather be what it would1 
it was a shame to be seen under any     
other cover than the roof of heaven4    
,we should not march our people very far

 at that rate4  ,as to what remains1    
,marcellinus1  a man bred up in the     
,roman wars1 curiously observes the     
manner of the ,parthians arming         
themselves1 and the rather1 for being so
 different from that of the ,romans4    
,they had1 says he1 armour so woven as  
to have all the scales fall over one    
another like so many little feathers2   
which did nothing hinder the motion of  
the body1 and yet were of such          
resistance1 that our darts hitting upon 
them1 would rebound 7these were the     
coats of mail our forefathers were so   
constantly wont to use74  ,and in       
another place3 they had1 says he1 strong
 and able horses1 covered with thick    
tanned hides of leather1 and were       
themselves armed 'cap-a-pie' with great 
plates of iron1 so artificially ordered1
 that in all parts of the limbs1 which  
required bending1 they lent themselves  
to the motion4  ,one would have said1   
that they had been men of iron2 having  
armour for the head so neatly fitted1   

and so naturally representing the form  
of a face1 that they were nowhere       
vulnerable1 save at two little round    
holes1 that gave them a little light1   
corresponding with their eyes1 and      
certain small chinks about their        
nostrils1 through which they1 with great
 difficulty1 breathed1                  
,flexilis inductis animatur lamina      
membris1                ,horribilis     
visu2 credas simulacra moveri           
,ferrea1 cognatoque viros spirare       
metallo4                ,par vestitus   
equis3 ferrata fronte minantur1         
,ferratosque movent1 securi vulneris1   
armos4       ,plates of steel are placed
 over the body1 so flexible that1       
dreadful to be seen1 you would think    
these not living men1 but      moving   
images4  ,the horses are similarly      
armed1 and1 secured from      wounds1   
move their iron shoulders4--,claud1 ,in 
,ruf41 ii4 #ceh4  ',tis a description   
drawing very near resembling the        
equipage of the men-at-arms in ,france1 

with their barded horses4  ,plutarch    
says1 that ,demetrius caused two        
complete suits of armour to be made for 
himself and for ,alcimus1 a captain of  
the greatest note and authority about   
him1 of six score pounds weight each1   
whereas the ordinary suits weighed but  
half as much4     ,,chapter ,x  ,,of    
,,books  ,i make no doubt but that ,i   
often happen to speak of things that are
 much better and more truly handled by  
those who are masters of the trade4     
,you have here purely an essay of my    
natural parts1 and not of those         
acquired3 and whoever shall catch me    
tripping in ignorance1 will not in any  
sort get the better of me2 for ,i should
 be very unwilling to become responsible
 to another for my writings1 who am not 
so to myself1 nor satisfied with them4  
,whoever goes in quest of knowledge1 let
 him fish for it where it is to be      
found2 there is nothing ,i so little    
profess4 ,these are fancies of my own1  
by which ,i do not pretend to discover  

things but to lay open myself2 they may1
 peradventure1 one day be known to me1  
or have formerly been1 according as     
fortune has been able to bring me in    
place where they have been explained2   
but ,i have utterly forgotten it2 and if
 ,i am a man of some reading1 ,i am a   
man of no retention2 so that ,i can     
promise no certainty1 more than to make 
known to what point the knowledge ,i now
 have has risen4  ,therefore1 let none  
lay stress upon the matter ,i write1 but
 upon my method in writing it4  ,let    
them observe1 in what ,i borrow1 if ,i  
have known how to choose what is proper 
to raise or help the invention1 which is
 always my own4  ,for ,i make others say
 for me1 not before but after me1 what1 
either for want of language or want of  
sense1 ,i cannot myself so well express4
  ,i do not number my borrowings1 ,i    
weigh them2 and had ,i designed to raise
 their value by number1 ,i had made them
 twice as many2 they are all1 or within 
a very few1 so famed and ancient        

authors1 that they seem1 methinks1      
themselves sufficiently to tell who they
 are1 without giving me the trouble4    
,in reasons1 comparisons1 and arguments1
 if ,i transplant any into my own soil1 
and confound them amongst my own1 ,i    
purposely conceal the author1 to awe the
 temerity of those precipitate censors  
who fall upon all sorts of writings1    
particularly the late ones1 of men yet  
living2 and in the vulgar tongue which  
puts every one into a capacity of       
criticising and which seem to convict   
the conception and design as vulgar     
also4  ,i will have them give ,plutarch 
a fillip on my nose1 and rail against   
,seneca when they think they rail at me4
  ,i must shelter my own weakness under 
these great reputations4  ,i shall love 
any one that can unplume me1 that is1 by
 clearness of understanding and         
judgment1 and by the sole distinction of
 the force and beauty of the discourse4 
,for ,i who1 for want of memory1 am at  
every turn at a loss to1 pick them out  

of their national livery1 am yet wise   
enough to know1 by the measure of my own
 abilities1 that my soil is incapable of
 producing any of those rich flowers    
that ,i there find growing2 and that all
 the fruits of my own growth are not    
worth any one of them4  ,for this1      
indeed1 ,i hold myself responsible2 if  
,i get in my own way2 if there be any   
vanity and defect in my writings which  
,i do not of myself perceive nor can    
discern1 when pointed out to me by      
another2 for many faults escape our eye1
 but the infirmity of judgment consists 
in not being able to discern them1 when 
by another laid open to us4  ,knowledge 
and truth may be in us without judgment1
 and judgment also without them2 but the
 confession of ignorance is one of the  
finest and surest testimonies of        
judgment that ,i know4  ,i have no other
 officer to put my writings in rank and 
file1 but only fortune4  ,as things come
 into my head1 ,i heap them one upon    
another2 sometimes they advance in whole

 bodies1 sometimes in single file4  ,i  
would that every one should see my      
natural and ordinary pace1 irregular as 
it is2 ,i suffer myself to jog on at my 
own rate4  ,neither are these subjects  
which a man is not permitted to be      
ignorant in1 or casually and at a       
venture1 to discourse of4  ,i could wish
 to have a more perfect knowledge of    
things1 but ,i will not buy it so dear  
as it costs4  ,my design is to pass over
 easily1 and not laboriously1 the       
remainder of my life2 there is nothing  
that ,i will cudgel my brains about2 no1
 not even knowledge1 of what value      
soever4  ,i seek1 in the reading of     
books1 only to please myself by an      
honest diversion2 or1 if ,i study1 'tis 
for no other science than what treats of
 the knowledge of myself1 and instructs 
me how to die and how to live well4     
,has meus ad metas sudet oportet equus4 
,my horse must work according to my     
step4                --,propertius1 iv4 
,i do not bite my nails about the       

difficulties ,i meet with in my reading2
 after a charge or two1 ,i give them    
over4  ,should ,i insist upon them1 ,i  
should both lose myself and time2 for ,i
 have an impatient understanding1 that  
must be satisfied at first3 what ,i do  
not discern at once is by persistence   
rendered more obscure4 ,i do nothing    
without gaiety2 continuation and a too  
obstinate endeavour1 darkens1 stupefies1
 and tires my judgment4  ,my sight is   
confounded and dissipated with poring2  
,i must withdraw it1 and refer my       
discovery to new attempts2 just as1 to  
judge rightly of the lustre of scarlet1 
we are taught to pass the eye lightly   
over it1 and again to run it over at    
several sudden and reiterated glances4  
,if one book do not please me1 ,i take  
another2 and ,i never meddle with any1  
but at such times as ,i am weary of     
doing nothing4 ,i care not much for new 
ones1 because the old seem fuller and   
stronger2 neither do ,i converse much   
with ,greek authors1 because my judgment

 cannot do its work with imperfect      
intelligence of the material4  ,amongst 
books that are simply pleasant1 of the  
moderns1 ,boccaccio's ,decameron1       
,rabelais1 and the ,basia of ,johannes  
,secundus 7if those may be ranged under 
the title7 are worth reading for        
amusement4  ,as to the ,amadis1 and such
 kind of stuff1 they had not the credit 
of arresting even my childhood4  ,and ,i
 will1 moreover1 say1 whether boldly or 
rashly1 that this old1 heavy soul of    
mine is now no longer tickled with      
,ariosto1 no1 nor with the worthy ,ovid2
 his facility and inventions1 with which
 ,i was formerly so ravished1 are now of
 no more relish1 and ,i can hardly have 
the patience to read them4  ,i speak my 
opinion freely of all things1 even of   
those that1 perhaps1 exceed my capacity1
 and that ,i do not conceive to be1 in  
any wise1 under my jurisdiction4  ,and1 
accordingly1 the judgment ,i deliver1 is
 to show the measure of my own sight1   
and not of the things ,i make so bold to

 criticise4  ,when ,i find myself       
disgusted with ,plato's ',axiochus'1 as 
with a work1 with due respect to such an
 author be it spoken1 without force1 my 
judgment does not believe itself3 it is 
not so arrogant as to oppose the        
authority of so many other famous       
judgments of antiquity1 which it        
considers as its tutors and masters1 and
 with whom it is rather content to err2 
in such a case1 it condemns itself      
either to stop at the outward bark1 not 
being able to penetrate to the heart1 or
 to consider it by sortie false light4  
,it is content with only securing itself
 from trouble and disorder2 as to its   
own weakness1 it frankly acknowledges   
and confesses it4  ,it thinks it gives a
 just interpretation to the appearances 
by its conceptions presented to it2 but 
they are weak and imperfect4  ,most of  
the fables of ,a,esop have diverse      
senses and meanings1 of which the       
mythologists chose some one that        
quadrates well to the fable2 but1 for   

the most part1 'tis but the first face  
that presents itself and is superficial 
only2 there yet remain others more      
vivid1 essential1 and profound1 into    
which they have not been able to        
penetrate2 and just so 'tis with me4    
,but1 to pursue the business of this    
essay1 ,i have always thought that1 in  
poesy1 ,virgil1 ,lucretius1 ,catullus1  
and ,horace by many degrees excel the   
rest2 and signally1 ,virgil in his      
,georgics1 which ,i look upon as the    
most accomplished piece in poetry2 and  
in comparison of which a man may easily 
discern that there are some places in   
his ,a,eneids1 to which the author would
 have given a little more of the file1  
had he had leisure3 and the fifth book  
of his ,a,eneids seems to me the most   
perfect4  ,i also love ,lucan1 and      
willingly read him1 not so much for his 
style1 as for his own worth1 and the    
truth and solidity of his opinions and  
judgments4  ,as for good ,terence1 the  
refined elegance and grace of the ,latin

 tongue1 ,i find him admirable in his   
vivid representation of our manners and 
the movements of the soul2 our actions  
throw me at every turn upon him2 and ,i 
cannot read him so often that ,i do not 
still discover some new grace and       
beauty4  ,such as lived near ,virgil's  
time complained that some should compare
 ,lucretius to him4  ,i am of opinion   
that the comparison is1 in truth1 very  
unequal3 a belief that1 nevertheless1 ,i
 have much ado to assure myself in1 when
 ,i come upon some excellent passage in 
,lucretius4 ,but if they were so angry  
at this comparison1 what would they say 
to the brutish and barbarous stupidity  
of those who1 nowadays1 compare him with
 ,ariosto8  ,would not ,ariosto himself 
say8                 ,o seclum insipiens
 et inficetum6            ,o stupid and 
tasteless age4--,catullus1 xliii4 #h4   
,i think the ancients had more reason to
 be angry with those who compared       
,plautus with ,terence1 though much     
nearer the mark1 than ,lucretius with   

,virgil4  ,it makes much for the        
estimation and preference of ,terence1  
that the father of ,roman eloquence has 
him so often1 and alone of his class1 in
 his mouth2 and the opinion that the    
best judge of ,roman poets --,horace1   
,de ,art4  ,poetica1 #bgi4--;has passed 
upon his companion4  ,i have often      
observed that those of our times1 who   
take upon them to write comedies 7in    
imitation of the ,italians1 who are     
happy enough in that way of writing71   
take three or four plots of those of    
,plautus or ,terence to make one of     
their own1 and 1 crowd five or six of   
,boccaccio's novels into one single     
comedy4  ,that which makes them so load 
themselves with matter is the diffidence
 they have of being able to support     
themselves with their own strength4     
,they must find out something to lean   
to2 and not having of their own stuff   
wherewith to entertain us1 they bring in
 the story to supply the defect of      
language4  ,it is quite otherwise with  

my author2 the elegance and perfection  
of his way of speaking makes us lose the
 appetite of his plot2 his refined grace
 and elegance of diction everywhere     
occupy us3 he is so pleasant throughout1
                 ,liquidus1 puroque     
simillimus amni1                        
,liquid1 and likest the pure river4     
--,horace1 ,ep41 ii4 s1 #abj4  and so   
possesses the soul with his graces that 
we forget those of his fable4  ,this    
same consideration carries me further3  
,i observe that the best of the ancient 
poets have avoided affectation and the  
hunting after1 not only fantastic       
,spanish and ,petrarchic elevations1 but
 even the softer and more gentle        
touches1 which are the ornament of all  
succeeding poesy4 ,and yet there is no  
good judgment that will condemn this in 
the ancients1 and that does not         
incomparably more admire the equal      
polish1 and that perpetual sweetness and
 flourishing beauty of ,catullus's      
epigrams1 than all the stings with which

 ,martial arms the tails of his4  ,this 
is by the same reason that ,i gave      
before1 and as ,martial says of himself3
                 ,minus illi ingenio    
laborandum fuit1                in cujus
 locum materia successerat3       ,he   
had the less for his wit to do that the 
subject itself      supplied what was   
necessary4--,martial1 praef4  ad lib4   
viii4  ,the first1 without being moved1 
or without getting angry1 make          
themselves sufficiently felt2 they have 
matter enough of laughter throughout1   
they need not tickle themselves2 the    
others have need of foreign assistance2 
as they have the less wit they must have
 the more body2 they mount on horseback1
 because they are not able to stand on  
their own legs4  ,as in our balls1 those
 mean fellows who teach to dance1 not   
being able to represent the presence and
 dignity of our noblesse1 are fain to   
put themselves forward with dangerous   
jumping1 and other strange motions and  
tumblers tricks2 and the ladies are less

 put to it in dance2 where there are    
various coupees1 changes1 and quick     
motions of body1 than in some other of a
 more sedate kind1 where they are only  
to move a natural pace1 and to represent
 their ordinary grace and presence4     
,and so ,i have seen good drolls1 when  
in their own everyday clothes1 and with 
the same face they always wear1 give us 
all the pleasure of their art1 when     
their apprentices1 not yet arrived at   
such a pitch of perfection1 are fain to 
meal their faces1 put themselves into   
ridiculous disguises1 and make a hundred
 grotesque faces to give us whereat to  
laugh4  ,this conception of mine is     
nowhere more demonstrable than in       
comparing the ,a,eneid with ,orlando    
,furioso2 of which we see the first1 by 
dint of wing1 flying in a brave and     
lofty place1 and always following his   
point3 the latter1 fluttering and       
hopping from tale to tale1 as from      
branch to branch1 not daring to trust   
his wings but in very short flights1 and

 perching at every turn1 lest his breath
 and strength should fail4              
,excursusque breves tentat4             
,and he attempts short excursions4      
--,virgil1 ,georgics1 iv4  #aid4        
,these1 then1 as to this sort of        
subjects1 are the authors that best     
please me4  ,as to what concerns my     
other reading1 that mixes a little more 
profit with the pleasure1 and whence ,i 
learn how to marshal my opinions and    
conditions1 the books that serve me to  
this purpose are ,plutarch1 since he has
 been translated into ,french1 and      
,seneca4  ,both of these have this      
notable convenience suited to my humour1
 that the knowledge ,i there seek is    
discoursed in loose pieces1 that do not 
require from me any trouble of reading  
long1 of which ,i am incapable4  ,such  
are the minor works of the first and the
 epistles of the latter1 which are the  
best and most profiting of all their    
writings4  ',tis no great attempt to    
take one of them in hand1 and ,i give   

over at pleasure2 for they have no      
sequence or dependence upon one another4
  ,these authors1 for the most part1    
concur in useful and true opinions2 and 
there is this parallel betwixt them1    
that fortune brought them into the world
 about the same century3 they were both 
tutors to two ,roman emperors3 both     
sought out from foreign countries3 both 
rich and both great men4  ,their        
instruction is the cream of philosophy1 
and delivered after a plain and         
pertinent manner4 ,plutarch is more     
uniform and constant2 ,seneca more      
various and waving3 the last toiled and 
bent his whole strength to fortify      
virtue against weakness1 fear1 and      
vicious appetites2 the other seems more 
to slight their power1 and to disdain to
 alter his pace and to stand upon his   
guard4  ,plutarch's opinions are        
,platonic1 gentle1 and accommodated to  
civil society2 those of the other are   
,stoical and ,epicurean1 more remote    
from the common use1 but1 in my opinion1

 more individually commodious and more  
firm4  ,seneca seems to lean a little to
 the tyranny of the emperors of his     
time1 and only seems2 for ,i take it for
 certain that he speaks against his     
judgment when he condemns the action of 
the generous murderers of ,caesar4      
,plutarch is frank throughout3 ,seneca  
abounds with brisk touches and sallies2 
,plutarch with things that warm and move
 you more2 this contents and pays you   
better3 he guides us1 the other pushes  
us on4  ,as to ,cicero1 his works that  
are most useful to my design are they   
that treat of manners and rules of our  
life4  ,but boldly to confess the truth 
7for since one has passed the barriers  
of impudence1 there is no bridle71 his  
way of writing appears to me negligent  
and uninviting3 for his prefaces1       
definitions1 divisions1 and etymologies 
take up the greatest part of his work3  
whatever there is of life and marrow is 
smothered and lost in the long          
preparation4  ,when ,i have spent an    

hour in reading him1 which is a great   
deal for me1 and try to recollect what  
,i have thence extracted of juice and   
substance1 for the most part ,i find    
nothing but wind2 for he is not yet come
 to the arguments that serve to his     
purpose1 and to the reasons that        
properly help to form the knot ,i seek4 
,for me1 who only desire to become more 
wise1 not more learned or eloquent1     
these logical and ,aristotelian         
dispositions of parts are of no use4  ,i
 would have a man begin with the main   
proposition4  ,i know well enough what  
death and pleasure are2 let no man give 
himself the trouble to anatomise them to
 me4  ,i look for good and solid        
reasons1 at the first dash1 to instruct 
me how to stand their shock1 for which  
purpose neither grammatical subtleties  
nor the quaint contexture of words and  
argumentations are of any use at all4   
,i am for discourses that give the first
 charge into the heart of the redoubt2  
his languish about the subject2 they are

 proper for the schools1 for the bar1   
and for the pulpit1 where we have       
leisure to nod1 and may awake1 a quarter
 of an hour after1 time enough to find  
again the thread of the discourse4  ,it 
is necessary to speak after this manner 
to judges1 whom a man has a design to   
gain over1 right or wrong1 to children  
and common people1 to whom a man must   
say all1 and see what will come of it4  
,i would not have an author make it his 
business to render me attentive3 or that
 he should cry out fifty times ,oyez6   
as the heralds do4  ,the ,romans1 in    
their religious exercises1 began with   
',hoc age' as we in ours do with        
',sursum corda'2 these are so many words
 lost to me3 ,i come already fully      
prepared from my chamber4  ,i need no   
allurement1 no invitation1 no sauce2 ,i 
eat the meat raw1 so that1 instead of   
whetting my appetite by these           
preparatives1 they tire and pall it4    
,will the licence of the time excuse my 
sacrilegious boldness if ,i censure the 

dialogism of ,plato himself as also dull
 and heavy1 too much stifling the       
matter1 and lament so much time lost by 
a man1 who had so many better things to 
say1 in so many long and needless       
preliminary interlocutions8  ,my        
ignorance will better excuse me in that 
,i understand not ,greek so well as to  
discern the beauty of his language4 ,i  
generally choose books that use         
sciences1 not such as only lead to them4
  ,the two first1 and ,pliny1 and their 
like1 have nothing of this ,hoc age2    
they will have to do with men already   
instructed2 or if they have1 'tis a     
substantial ,hoc age2 and that has a    
body by itself4  ,i also delight in     
reading the ,epistles to ,atticus1 not  
only because they contain a great deal  
of the history and affairs of his time1 
but much more because ,i therein        
discover much of his own private        
humours2 for ,i have a singular         
curiosity1 as ,i have said elsewhere1 to
 pry into the souls and the natural and 

true opinions of the authors1 with whom 
,i converse4  ,a man may indeed judge of
 their parts1 but not of their manners  
nor of themselves1 by the writings they 
exhibit upon the theatre of the world4  
,i have a thousand times lamented the   
loss of the treatise ,brutus wrote upon 
,virtue1 for it is well to learn the    
theory from those who best know the     
practice4  ,but seeing the matter       
preached and the preacher are different 
things1 ,i would as willingly see       
,brutus in ,plutarch1 as in a book of   
his own4 ,i would rather choose to be   
certainly informed of the conference he 
had in his tent with some particular    
friends of his the night before a       
battle1 than of the harangue he made the
 next day to his army2 and of what he   
did in his closet and his chamber1 than 
what he did in the public square and in 
the senate4  ,as to ,cicero1 ,i am of   
the common opinion that1 learning       
excepted1 he had no great natural       
excellence4  ,he was a good citizen1 of 

an affable nature1 as all fat1 heavy    
men1 such as he was1 usually are2 but   
given to ease1 and had1 in truth1 a     
mighty share of vanity and ambition4    
,neither do ,i know how to excuse him   
for thinking his poetry fit to be       
published2 'tis no great imperfection to
 make ill verses1 but it is an          
imperfection not to be able to judge how
 unworthy his verses were of the glory  
of his name4  ,for what concerns his    
eloquence1 that is totally out of all   
comparison1 and ,i believe it will never
 be equalled4  ,the younger ,cicero1 who
 resembled his father in nothing but in 
name1 whilst commanding in ,asia1 had   
several strangers one day at his table1 
and1 amongst the rest1 ,cestius seated  
at the lower end1 as men often intrude  
to the open tables of the great4        
,cicero asked one of his people who that
 man was1 who presently told him his    
name2 but he1 as one who had his        
thoughts taken up with something else1  
and who had forgotten the answer made   

him1 asking three or four times1 over   
and over again2 the same question1 the  
fellow1 to deliver himself from so many 
answers and to make him know him by some
 particular circumstance2 'tis that     
,cestius1 said he1 of whom it was told  
you1 that he makes no great account of  
your father's eloquence in comparison of
 his own4  ,at which ,cicero1 being     
suddenly nettled1 commanded poor        
,cestius presently to be seized1 and    
caused him to be very well whipped in   
his own presence2 a very discourteous   
entertainer6  ,yet even amongst those1  
who1 all things considered1 have reputed
 his1 eloquence incomparable1 there have
 been some1 who have not stuck to       
observe some faults in it3 as that great
 ,brutus his friend1 for example1 who   
said 'twas a broken and feeble          
eloquence1 'fyactam et elumbem'4  ,the  
orators also1 nearest to the age wherein
 he lived1 reprehended in him the care  
he had of a certain long cadence in his 
periods1 and particularly took notice of

 these words1 'esse videatur'1 which he 
there so often makes use of4  ,for my   
part1 ,i more approve of a shorter      
style1 and that comes more roundly off4 
,he does1 though1 sometimes shuffle his 
parts more briskly together1 but 'tis   
very seldom4  ,i have myself taken      
notice of this one passage3             
,ego vero me minus diu senem mallem1    
quam esse senem1 antequam essem4        
,i had rather be old a brief time1 than 
be old before old age4      --,cicero1  
,de ,senect41 c4 #aj4  ,the historians  
are my right ball1 for they are pleasant
 and easy1 and where man1 in general1   
the knowledge of whom ,i hunt after1    
appears more vividly and entire than    
anywhere else3       ,the easiest of my 
amusements1 the right ball at tennis    
being that      which coming to the     
player from the right hand1 is much     
easier      played with4--,coste4  the  
variety and truth of his internal       
qualities1 in gross and piecemeal1 the  
diversity of means by which he is united

 and knit1 and the accidents that       
threaten him4  ,now those that write    
lives1 by reason they insist more upon  
counsels than events1 more upon what    
sallies from within1 than upon what     
happens without1 are the most proper for
 my reading2 and1 therefore1 above all  
others1 ,plutarch is the man for me4  ,i
 am very sorry we have not a dozen      
,laertii1--,diogenes ,laertius1 who     
wrote the ,lives of the                 
,philosophers--or that he was not       
further extended2 for ,i am equally     
curious to know the lives and fortunes  
of these great instructors of the world1
 as to know the diversities of their    
doctrines and opinions4  ,in this kind  
of study of histories1 a man must tumble
 over1 without distinction1 all sorts of
 authors1 old and new1 ,french or       
foreign1 there to know the things of    
which they variously treat4  ,but       
,caesar1 in my opinion1 particularly    
deserves to be studied1 not for the     
knowledge of the history only1 but for  

himself1 so great an excellence and     
perfection he has above all the rest1   
though ,sallust be one of the number4   
,in earnest1 ,i read this author with   
more reverence and respect than is      
usually allowed to human writings2 one  
while considering him in his person1 by 
his actions and miraculous greatness1   
and another in the purity and inimitable
 polish of his language1 wherein he not 
only excels all other historians1 as    
,cicero confesses1  but1 peradventure1  
even ,cicero himself2 speaking of his   
enemies with so much sincerity in his   
judgment1 that1 the false colours with  
which he strives to palliate his evil   
cause1 and the ordure of his pestilent  
ambition excepted1 ,i think there is no 
fault to be objected against him1 saving
 this1 that he speaks too sparingly of  
himself1 seeing so many great things    
could not have been performed under his 
conduct1 but that his own personal acts 
must necessarily have had a greater     
share in them than he attributes to     

them4  ,i love historians1 whether of   
the simple sort1 or of the higher order4
 ,the simple1 who have nothing of their 
own to mix with it1 and who only make it
 their business to collect all that     
comes to their knowledge1 and faithfully
 to record all things1 without choice or
 discrimination1 leave to us the entire 
judgment of discerning the truth4       
,such1 for example1 amongst others1 is  
honest ,froissart1 who has proceeded in 
his undertaking with so frank a         
plainness that1 having committed an     
error1 he is not ashamed to confess and 
correct it in the place where the finger
 has been laid1 and who represents to us
 even the variety of rumours that were  
then spread abroad1 and the different   
reports that were made to him2 'tis the 
naked and inform matter of history1 and 
of which every one may make his profit1 
according to his understanding4  ,the   
more excellent sort of historians have  
judgment to pick out what is most worthy
 to be known2 and1 of two reports1 to   

examine which is the most likely to be  
true3 from the condition of princes and 
their humours1 they conclude their      
counsels1 and attribute to them words   
proper for the occasion2 such have title
 to assume the authority of regulating  
our belief to what they themselves      
believe2 but certainly1 this privilege  
belongs to very few4  ,for the middle   
sort of historians1 of which the most   
part are1 they spoil all2 they will chew
 our meat for us2 they take upon them to
 judge of1 and consequently1 to incline 
the history to their own fancy2 for if  
the judgment lean to one side1 a man    
cannot avoid wresting and writhing his  
narrative to that bias2 they undertake  
to select things worthy to be known1 and
 yet often conceal from us such a word1 
such a private action1 as would much    
better instruct us2 omit1 as incredible1
 such things as they do not understand1 
and peradventure some1 because they     
cannot express good ,french or ,latin4  
,let them display their eloquence and   

intelligence1 and judge according to    
their own fancy3 but let them1 withal1  
leave us something to judge of after    
them1 and neither alter nor disguise1 by
 their abridgments and at their own     
choice1 anything of the substance of the
 matter1 but deliver it to us pure and  
entire in all its dimensions4  ,for the 
most part1 and especially in these      
latter ages1 persons are culled out for 
this work from amongst the common       
people1 upon the sole consideration of  
well-speaking1 as if we were to learn   
grammar from them2 and the men so chosen
 have fair reason1 being hired for no   
other end and pretending to nothing but 
babble1 not to be very solicitous of any
 part but that1 and so1 with a fine     
jingle of words1 prepare us a pretty    
contexture of reports they pick up in   
the streets4  ,the only good histories  
are those that have been written        
themselves who held command in the      
affairs whereof they write1 or who      
participated in the conduct of them1 or1

 at least1 who have had the conduct of  
others of the same nature4  ,such are   
almost all the ,greek and ,roman        
histories3 for1 several eye-witnesses   
having written of the same subject1 in  
the time when grandeur and learning     
commonly met in the same person1 if     
there happen to be an error1 it must of 
necessity be a very slight one1 and upon
 a very doubtful incident4  ,what can a 
man expect from a physician who writes  
of war1 or from a mere scholar1 treating
 of the designs of princes8  ,if we     
could take notice how scrupulous the    
,romans were in this1 there would need  
but this example3 ,asinius ,pollio found
 in the histories of ,caesar himself    
something misreported1 a mistake        
occasioned2 either by reason he could   
not have his eye in all parts of his    
army at once and had given credit to    
some individual persons who had not     
delivered him a very true account2 or   
else1 for not having had too perfect    
notice given him by his lieutenants of  

what they had done in his               
absence4--,suetonius1 ,life of ,caesar1 
c4 #ef4--;,by which we may see1 whether 
the inquisition after truth be not very 
delicate1 when a man cannot believe the 
report of a battle from the knowledge of
 him who there commanded1 nor from the  
soldiers who were engaged in it1 unless1
 after the method of a judicial inquiry1
 the witnesses be confronted and        
objections considered upon the proof of 
the least detail of every incident4  ,in
 good earnest the knowledge we have of  
our own affairs1 is much more obscure3  
but that has been sufficiently handled  
by ,bodin1 and according to my own      
sentiment --,in the work by jean ,bodin1
 entitled ,methodus ad facilem          
historiarum cognitionem4  #aeff4--;,a   
little to aid the weakness of my memory 
7so extreme that it has happened to me  
more than once1 to take books again into
 my hand as new and unseen1 that ,i had 
carefully read over a few years before1 
and scribbled with my notes7 ,i have    

adopted a custom of late1 to note at the
 end of every book 7that is1 of those ,i
 never intend to read again7 the time   
when ,i made an end on't1 and the       
judgment ,i had made of it1 to the end  
that this might1 at least1 represent to 
me the character and general idea ,i had
 conceived of the author in reading it2 
and ,i will here transcribe some of     
those annotations4  ,i wrote this1 some 
ten years ago1 in my ,guicciardini 7of  
what language soever my books speak to  
me in1 ,i always speak to them in my    
own73 ,he is a diligent historiographer1
 from whom1 in my opinion1 a man may    
learn the truth of the affairs of his   
time1 as exactly as from any other2 in  
the most of which he was himself also a 
personal actor1 and in honourable       
command4  ,there is no appearance that  
he disguised anything1 either upon the  
account of hatred1 favour1 or vanity2 of
 which the free censures he passes upon 
the great ones1 and particularly those  
by whom he was advanced and employed in 

commands of great trust and honour1 as  
,pope ,clement ,,vii41 give ample       
testimony4  ,as to that part which he   
thinks himself the best at1 namely1 his 
digressions and discourses1 he has      
indeed some very good1 and enriched with
 fine features2 but he is too fond of   
them3 for1 to leave nothing unsaid1     
having a subject so full1 ample1 almost 
infinite1 he degenerates into pedantry  
and smacks a little of scholastic       
prattle4  ,i have also observed this in 
him1 that of so many souls and so many  
effects1 so many motives and so many    
counsels as he judges1 he never         
attributes any one to virtue1 religion1 
or conscience1 as if all these were     
utterly extinct in the world3 and of all
 the actions1 how brave soever in       
outward show they appear in themselves1 
he always refers the cause and motive to
 some vicious occasion or some prospect 
of profit4  ,it is impossible to imagine
 but that1 amongst such an infinite     
number of actions as he makes mention   

of1 there must be some one produced by  
the way of honest reason4  ,no          
corruption could so universally have    
infected men that some one would not    
escape the contagion which makes me     
suspect that his own taste was vicious1 
whence it might happen that he judged   
other men by himself4  ,in my ,philip de
 ,commines there is this written3 ,you  
will here find the language sweet and   
delightful1 of a natural simplicity1 the
 narration pure1 with the good faith of 
the author conspicuous therein2 free    
from vanity1 when speaking of himself1  
and from affection or envy1 when        
speaking of others3 his discourses and  
exhortations rather accompanied with    
zeal and truth1 than with any exquisite 
sufficiency2 and1 throughout1 authority 
and gravity1 which bespeak him a man of 
good extraction1 and brought up in great
 affairs4  ,upon the ,memoirs of        
,monsieur du ,bellay ,i find this3 ',tis
 always pleasant to read things written 
by those that have experienced how they 

ought to be carried on2 but withal1 it  
cannot be denied but there is a manifest
 decadence in these two lords--,martin  
du ,bellay and ,guillaume de ,langey1   
brothers1 who jointly wrote the         
,memoirs4--from the freedom and liberty 
of writing that shine in the elder      
historians1 such as the ,sire de        
,joinville1 the familiar companion of   
,st4 ,louis2 ,eginhard1 chancellor to   
,charlemagne2 and of later date1 ,philip
 de ,commines4  ,what we have here is   
rather an apology for ,king ,francis1   
against the ,emperor ,charles ,v41 than 
history4  ,i will not believe that they 
have falsified anything1 as to matter of
 fact2 but they make a common practice  
of twisting the judgment of events1 very
 often contrary to reason1 to our       
advantage1 and of omitting whatsoever is
 ticklish to be handled in the life of  
their master2 witness the proceedings of
 ,messieurs de ,montmorency and de      
,biron1 which are here omitted3 nay1 so 
much as the very name of ,madame        

d',estampes is not here to be found4    
,secret actions an historian may        
conceal2 but to pass over in silence    
what all the world knows and things that
 have drawn after them public and such  
high consequences1 is an inexcusable    
defect4  ,in fine1 whoever has a mind to
 have a perfect knowledge of ,king      
,francis and the events of his reign1   
let him seek it elsewhere1 if my advice 
may prevail4  ,the only profit a man can
 reap from these ,memoirs is in the     
special narrative of battles and other  
exploits of war wherein these gentlemen 
were personally engaged2 in some words  
and private actions of the princes of   
their time1 and in the treaties and     
negotiations carried on by the ,seigneur
 de ,langey1 where there are everywhere 
things worthy to be known1 and          
discourses above the vulgar strain4     
,,chapter ,,xi  ,,of ,,cruelty  ,i fancy
 virtue to be something else1 and       
something more noble1 than good nature1 
and the mere propension to goodness1    

that we are born into the world withal4 
,well-disposed and well-descended souls 
pursue1 indeed1 the same methods1 and   
represent in their actions the same face
 that virtue itself does3 but the word  
virtue imports1 ,i know not what1 more  
great and active than merely for a man  
to suffer himself1 by a happy           
disposition1 to be gently and quietly   
drawn to the rule of reason4  ,he who1  
by a natural sweetness and facility1    
should despise injuries received1 would 
doubtless do a very fine and laudable   
thing2 but he who1 provoked and nettled 
to the quick by an offence1 should      
fortify himself with the arms of reason 
against the furious appetite of revenge1
 and after a great conflict1 master his 
own passion1 would certainly do a great 
deal more4 ,the first would do well2 the
 latter virtuously3 one action might be 
called goodness1 and the other virtue2  
for methinks1 the very name of virtue   
presupposes difficulty and contention1  
and cannot be exercised without an      

opponent4  ',tis for this reason1       
perhaps1 that we call ,god good1 mighty1
 liberal and just2 but we do not call   
,him virtuous1 being that all ,his      
operations are natural and without      
endeavour4--,rousseau1 in his ,emile1   
book v41 adopts this passage almost in  
the same words4-- ,it has been the      
opinion of many philosophers1 not only  
,stoics1 but ,epicureans--and this      
addition--       ,montaigne stops here  
to make his excuse for thus naming the  
,epicureans with the ,stoics1 in        
conformity to the general opinion       
that the ,epicureans were not so rigid  
in their morals as the ,stoics1         
which is not true in the main1 as he    
demonstrates at one view4  ,this        
involved ,montaigne in a tedious        
parenthesis1 during which it is         
proper that the reader be attentive1    
that he may not entirely lose      the  
thread of the argument4  ,in some later 
editions of this author1      it has    
been attempted to remedy this           

inconvenience1 but without              
observing that ,montaigne's argument is 
rendered more feeble and      obscure by
 such vain repetitions3 it is a licence 
that ought not to      be taken1 because
 he who publishes the work of another1  
ought to      give it as the other      
composed ft4  ,but1 in ,mr ,cotton's    
translation1      he was so puzzled with
 this enormous parenthesis that he has  
quite      left it out--,coste4  ,i     
borrow from the vulgar opinion1 which is
 false1 notwithstanding the witty       
conceit of ,arcesilaus in answer to one1
 who1 being reproached that many        
scholars went from his school to the    
,epicurean1 but never any from thence to
 his school1 said in answer1 ,i believe 
it indeed2 numbers of capons being made 
out of cocks1 but never any cocks out of
 capons4 --,diogenes ,laertius1 ,life of
 ,archesilaus1 lib4  iv41 #dc4--;,for1  
in truth1 the ,epicurean sect is not at 
all inferior to the ,stoic in           
steadiness1 and the rigour of opinions  

and precepts4  ,and a certain ,stoic1   
showing more honesty than those         
disputants1 who1 in order to quarrel    
with ,epicurus1 and to throw the game   
into their hands1 make him say what he  
never thought1 putting a wrong          
construction upon his words1 clothing   
his sentences1 by the strict rules of   
grammar1 with another meaning1 and a    
different opinion from that which they  
knew he entertained in his mind and in  
his morals1 the ,stoic1 ,i say1 declared
 that he abandoned the ,epicurean sect1 
upon this among other considerations1   
that he thought their road too lofty and
 inaccessible2       ,and those are     
called lovers of pleasure1 being in     
effect      lovers of honour and        
justice1 who cultivate and observe all  
the virtues4--,cicero1 ,ep4  ,fam41 xv4 
i1 #ai4  ,these philosophers say that it
 is not enough to have the soul seated  
in a good place1 of a good temper1 and  
well disposed to virtue2 it is not      
enough to have our resolutions and our  

reasoning fixed above all the power of  
fortune1 but that we are1 moreover1 to  
seek occasions wherein to put them to   
the proof3 they would seek pain1        
necessity1 and contempt to contend with 
them and to keep the soul in breath3    
,multum sibi adjicit virtus lacessita4  
,virtue is much strengthened by combats4
                or3  ,virtue attacked   
adds to its own force4                  
--,seneca1 ,ep41 #ac4  ',tis one of the 
reasons why ,epaminondas1 who was yet of
 a third sect1 --,the                   
,pythagorean4--refused the riches       
fortune presented to him by very lawful 
means2 because1 said he1 ,i am to       
contend with poverty1 in which extreme  
he maintained himself to the last4      
,socrates put himself1 methinks1 upon a 
ruder trial1 keeping for his exercise a 
confounded scolding wife1 which was     
fighting at sharps4  ,metellus having1  
of all the ,roman senators1 alone       
attempted1 by the power of virtue1 to   
withstand the violence of ,saturninus1  

tribune of the people at ,rome1 who     
would1 by all means1 cause an unjust law
 to pass in favour of the commons1 and1 
by so doing1 having incurred the capital
 penalties that ,saturninus had         
established against the dissentient1    
entertained those who1 in this          
extremity1 led him to execution with    
words to this effect3 ,that it was a    
thing too easy and too base to do ill2  
and that to do well where there was no  
danger was a common thing2 but that to  
do well where there was danger was the  
proper office of a man of virtue4       
,these words of ,metellus very clearly  
represent to us what ,i would make out1 
viz41 that virtue refuses facility for a
 companion2 and that the easy1 smooth1  
and descending way by which the regular 
steps of a sweet disposition of nature  
are conducted is not that of a true     
virtue2 she requires a rough and stormy 
passage2 she will have either exotic    
difficulties to wrestle with1 like that 
of ,metellus1 by means whereof fortune  

delights to interrupt the speed of her  
career1 or internal difficulties1 that  
the inordinate appetites and            
imperfections of our condition introduce
 to disturb her4  ,i am come thus far at
 my ease2 but here it comes into my head
 that the soul of ,socrates1 the most   
perfect that ever came to my knowledge1 
should by this rule be of very little   
recommendation2 for ,i cannot conceive  
in that person any the least motion of a
 vicious inclination3 ,i cannot imagine 
there could be any difficulty or        
constraint in the course of his virtue3 
,i know his reason to be so powerful and
 sovereign over him that she would never
 have suffered a vicious appetite so    
much as to spring in him4  ,to a virtue 
so elevated as his1 ,i have nothing to  
oppose4  ,methinks ,i see him march1    
with a victorious and triumphant pace1  
in pomp and at his ease1 without        
opposition or disturbance4  ,if virtue  
cannot shine bright1 but by the conflict
 of contrary appetites1 shall we then   

say that she cannot subsist without the 
assistance of vice1 and that it is from 
her that she derives her reputation and 
honour8  ,what then1 also1 would become 
of that brave and generous ,epicurean   
pleasure1 which makes account that it   
nourishes virtue tenderly in her lap1   
and there makes it play and wanton1     
giving it for toys to play withal1      
shame1 fevers1 poverty1 death1 and      
torments8  ,if ,i presuppose that a     
perfect virtue manifests itself in      
contending1 in patient enduring of pain1
 and undergoing the uttermost extremity 
of the gout2 without being moved in her 
seat2 if ,i give her troubles and       
difficulty for her necessary objects3   
what will become of a virtue elevated to
 such a degree1 as not only to despise  
pain1 but1 moreover1 to rejoice in it1  
and to be tickled with the throes of a  
sharp colic1 such as the ,epicureans    
have established1 and of which many of  
them1 by their actions1 have given most 
manifest proofs8  ,as have several      

others1 who ,i find to have surpassed in
 effects even the very rules of their   
discipline4  ,witness the younger ,cato3
 ,when ,i see him die1 and tearing out  
his own bowels1 ,i am not satisfied     
simply to believe that he had then his  
soul totally exempt from all trouble and
 horror3 ,i cannot think that he only   
maintained himself in the steadiness    
that the ,stoical rules prescribed him2 
temperate1 without emotion1 and         
imperturbed4  ,there was1 methinks1     
something in the virtue of this man too 
sprightly and fresh to stop there2 ,i   
believe that1 without doubt1 he felt a  
pleasure and delight in so noble an     
action1 and was more pleased in it than 
in any other of his life3       ,sic    
abiit a vita1 ut causam moriendi nactum 
se esse gauderet4       ,he quitted life
 rejoicing that a reason for dying had  
arisen4      --,cicero1 ,tusc4 ,quaes41 
i4 #cj4  ,i believe it so thoroughly    
that ,i question whether he would have  
been content to have been deprived of   

the occasion of so brave an exploit2 and
 if the goodness that made him embrace  
the public concern more than his own1   
withheld me not1 ,i should easily fall  
into an opinion that he thought himself 
obliged to fortune for having put his   
virtue upon so brave a trial1 and for   
having favoured that theif--,caesar--in 
treading underfoot the ancient liberty  
of his country4  ,methinks ,i read in   
this action ,i know not what exaltation 
in his soul1 and an extraordinary and   
manly emotion of pleasure1 when he      
looked upon the generosity and height of
 his enterprise3                        
,deliberate morte ferocior1             
,the more courageous from the           
deliberation to die4                    
--,horace1 ,od41 i4 #cg1 #bi4  not      
stimulated with any hope of glory1 as   
the popular and effeminate judgments of 
some have concluded 7for that           
consideration was too mean and low to   
possess so generous1 so haughty1 and so 
determined a heart as his71 but for the 

very beauty of the thing in itself1     
which he who had the handling of the    
springs discerned more clearly and in   
its perfection than we are able to do4  
,philosophy has obliged me in           
determining that so brave an action had 
been indecently placed in any other life
 than that of ,cato2 and that it only   
appertained to his to end so2           
notwithstanding1 and according to       
reason1 he commanded his son and the    
senators who accompanied him to take    
another course in their affairs3        
,catoni1 quum incredibilem natura       
tribuisset gravitatem1           eamque 
ipse perpetue constantia roboravisset1  
semperque           in proposito        
consilio permansisset1 moriendum potius1
           quam tyranni vultus          
aspiciendus1 erat4       ,cato1 whom    
nature had given incredible dignity1    
which he had      fortified by perpetual
 constancy1 ever remaining of his       
predetermined opinion1 preferred to die 
rather than to look      on the         

countenance of a tyrant4--,cicero1 ,de  
,ofc41 i4 #ca4  ,every death ought to   
hold proportion with the life before it2
 we do not become others for dying4  ,i 
always interpret the death by the life  
preceding2 and if any one tell me of a  
death strong and constant in appearance1
 annexed to a feeble life1 ,i conclude  
it produced by some feeble cause1 and   
suitable to the life before4  ,the      
easiness then of his death and the      
facility of dying he had acquired by the
 vigour of his soul2 shall we say that  
it ought to abate anything of the lustre
 of his virtue8  ,and who1 that has his 
brain never so little tinctured with the
 true philosophy1 can be content to     
imagine ,socrates only free from fear   
and passion in the accident of his      
prison1 fetters1 and condemnation8 and  
that will not discover in him not only  
firmness and constancy 7which was his   
ordinary condition71 but1 moreover1 ,i  
know not what new satisfaction1 and a   
frolic cheerfulness in his last words   

and actions8 ,in the start he gave with 
the pleasure of scratching his leg when 
his irons were taken off1 does he not   
discover an equal serenity and joy in   
his soul for being freed from past      
inconveniences1 and at the same time to 
enter into the knowledge of the things  
to come8  ,cato shall pardon me1 if he  
please2 his death indeed is more        
tragical and more lingering2 but yet    
this is1 ,i know not how1 methinks1     
finer4  ,aristippus1 to one that was    
lamenting this death3 ,the gods grant me
 such an one1 said he4 ,a man discerns  
in the soul of these two great men and  
their imitators 7for ,i very much doubt 
whether there were ever their equals7 so
 perfect a habitude to virtue1 that it  
was turned to a complexion4  ,it is no  
longer a laborious virtue1 nor the      
precepts of reason1 to maintain which   
the soul is so racked1 but the very     
essence of their soul1 its natural and  
ordinary habit2 they have rendered it   
such by a long practice of philosophical

 precepts having lit upon a rich and    
fine nature2 the vicious passions that  
spring in us can find no entrance into  
them2 the force and vigour of their soul
 stifle and extinguish irregular        
desires1 so soon as they begin to move4 
,now1 that it is not more noble1 by a   
high and divine resolution1 to hinder   
the birth of temptations1 and to be so  
formed to virtue1 that the very seeds of
 vice are rooted out1 than to hinder by 
main force their progress2 and1 having  
suffered ourselves to be surprised with 
the first motions of the passions1 to   
arm ourselves and to stand firm to      
oppose their progress1 and overcome     
them2 and that this second effect is not
 also much more generous than to be     
simply endowed with a facile and affable
 nature1 of itself disaffected to       
debauchery and vice1 ,i do not think can
 be doubted2 for this third and last    
sort of virtue seems to render a man    
innocent1 but not virtuous2 free from   
doing ill1 but not apt enough to do     

well3 considering also1 that this       
condition is so near neighbour to       
imperfection and cowardice1 that ,i know
 not very well how to separate the      
confines and distinguish them3 the very 
names of goodness and innocence are1 for
 this reason1 in some sort grown into   
contempt4 ,i very well know that several
 virtues1 as chastity1 sobriety1 and    
temperance1 may come to a man through   
personal defects4  ,constancy in danger1
 if it must be so called1 the contempt  
of death1 and patience in misfortunes1  
may ofttimes be found in men for want of
 well judging of such accidents1 and not
 apprehending them for such as they are4
  ,want of apprehension and stupidity   
sometimes counterfeit virtuous effects  
as ,i have often seen it happen1 that   
men have been commended for what really 
merited blame4  ,an ,italian lord once  
said this1 in my presence1 to the       
disadvantage of his own nation3 that the
 subtlety of the ,italians1 and the     
vivacity of their conceptions were so   

great1 and they foresaw the dangers and 
accidents that might befall them so far 
off1 that it was not to be thought      
strange1 if they were often1 in war1    
observed to provide for their safety1   
even before they had discovered the     
peril2 that we ,french and the          
,spaniards1 who were not so cunning1    
went on further1 and that we must be    
made to see and feel the danger before  
we would take the alarm2 but that even  
then we could not stick to it4  ,but the
 ,germans and ,swiss1 more gross and    
heavy1 had not the sense to look about  
them1 even when the blows were falling  
about their ears4  ,peradventure1 he    
only talked so for mirth's sake2 and yet
 it is most certain that in war raw     
soldiers rush into dangers with more    
precipitancy than after they have been  
cudgelled99--7,the original has         
eschauldex--scalded7           ,haud    
ignarus 4  4  4  4  quantum nova gloria 
in armis1           ,et praedulce decus1
 primo certamine possit4       ,not     

ignorant how much power the fresh glory 
of arms and sweetest      honour possess
 in the first contest4--,a,eneid1 xi4   
#aed  ,for this reason it is that1 when 
we judge of a particular action1 we are 
to consider the circumstances1 and the  
whole man by whom it is performed1      
before we give it a name4  ,to instance 
in myself3 ,i have sometimes known my   
friends call that prudence in me1 which 
was merely fortune2 and repute that     
courage and patience1 which was judgment
 and opinion2 and attribute to me one   
title for another1 sometimes to my      
advantage and sometimes otherwise4  ,as 
to the rest1 ,i am so far from being    
arrived at the first and most perfect   
degree of excellence1 where virtue is   
turned into habit1 that even of the     
second ,i have made no great proofs4  ,i
 have not been very solicitous to curb  
the desires by which ,i have been       
importuned4  ,my virtue is a virtue1 or 
rather an innocence1 casual and         
accidental4  ,if ,i had been born of a  

more irregular complexion1 ,i am afraid 
,i should have made scurvy work2 for ,i 
never observed any great stability in my
 soul to resist passions1 if they were  
never so little vehement3 ,i know not   
how to nourish quarrels and debates in  
my own bosom1 and1 consequently1 owe    
myself no great thanks that ,i am free  
from several vices3                ,si  
vitiis mediocribus et mea paucis        
,mendosa est natura1 alioqui recta1     
velut si                ,egregio        
inspersos reprehendas corpore naevos3   
,if my nature be disfigured only with   
slight and few vices1 and is            
otherwise just1 it is as if you should  
blame moles on a fair body4             
--,horatius1 ,sat41 i4 #f1 #fe4  ,i owe 
it rather to my fortune than my reason4 
,she has caused me to be descended of a 
race famous for integrity and of a very 
good father2 ,i know not whether or no  
he has infused into me part of his      
humours1 or whether domestic examples   
and the good education of my infancy    

have insensibly assisted in the work1   
or1 if ,i was otherwise born so3        
,seu ,libra1 seu me ,scorpius adspicit  
,formidolosus1 pars violentior          
,natalis hors1 seu tyrannus             
,hesperive ,capricornus undae3          
,whether the ,balance or dread ,scorpio1
 more potent over my natal      hour1   
aspects me1 or ,capricorn1 supreme over 
the ,hesperian sea4      --,horace1     
,od41 ii4 #aag4  but so it is1 that ,i  
have naturally a horror for most vices4 
,the answer of ,antisthenes to him who  
asked him1 which was the best           
apprenticeship to unlearn evil1 seems to
 point at this4  ,i have them in horror1
 ,i say1 with a detestation so natural1 
and so much my own1 that the same       
instinct and impression ,i brought of   
them with me from my nurse1 ,i yet      
retain1 and no temptation whatever has  
had the power to make me alter it4  ,not
 so much as my own discourses1 which in 
some things lashing out of the common   
road might seem easily to license me to 

actions that my natural inclination     
makes me hate4  ,i will say a prodigious
 thing1 but ,i will say it1 however3 ,i 
find myself in many things more under   
reputation by my manners than by my     
opinion1 and my concupiscence less      
debauched than my reason4  ,aristippus  
instituted opinions so bold in favour of
 pleasure and riches as set all the     
philosophers against him3 but as to his 
manners1 ,dionysius the tyrant1 having  
presented three beautiful women before  
him1 to take his choice2 he made answer1
 that he would choose them all1 and that
 ,paris got himself into trouble for    
having preferred one before the other   
two3 but1 having taken them home to his 
house1 he sent them back untouched4     
,his servant finding himself overladen  
upon the way1 with the money he carried 
after him1 he ordered him to pour out   
and throw away that which troubled him4 
,and ,epicurus1 whose doctrines were so 
irreligious and effeminate1 was in his  
life very laborious and devout2 he wrote

 to a friend of his that he lived only  
upon biscuit and water1 entreating him  
to send him a little cheese1 to lie by  
him against he had a mind to make a     
feast4  ,must it be true1 that to be a  
perfect good man1 we must be so by an   
occult1 natural1 and universal          
propriety1 without law1 reason1 or      
example8  ,the debauches wherein ,i have
 been engaged1 have not been1 ,i thank  
,god1 of the worst sort1 and ,i have    
condemned them in myself1 for my        
judgment was never infected by them2 on 
the contrary1 ,i accuse them more       
severely in myself than in any other2   
but that is all1 for1 as to the rest4   
,i oppose too little resistance and     
suffer myself to incline too much to the
 other side of the balance1 excepting   
that ,i moderate them1 and prevent them 
from mixing with other vices1 which for 
the most part will cling together1 if a 
man have not a care4  ,i have contracted
 and curtailed mine1 to make them as    
single and as simple as ,i can3         

,nec ultra                     ,errorem 
foveo4                 ,nor do ,i       
cherish error further4                  
or3 ,nor carry wrong further4           
--,juvenal1 viii4 #afd4  ,for as to the 
opinion of the ,stoics1 who say1 ,that  
the wise man when he works1 works by all
 the virtues together1 though one be    
most apparent1 according to the nature  
of the action2 and herein the similitude
 of a human body might serve them       
somewhat1 for the action of anger cannot
 work1 unless all the humours assist it1
 though choler predominate2 --if they   
will thence draw a like consequence1    
that when the wicked man does wickedly1 
he does it by all the vices together1 ,i
 do not believe it to be so1 or else ,i 
understand them not1 for ,i by effect   
find the contrary4  ,these are sharp1   
unsubstantial subleties1 with which     
philosophy sometimes amuses itself4  ,i 
follow some vices1 but ,i fly others as 
much as a saint would do4  ,the         
,peripatetics also disown this          

indissoluble connection2 and ,aristotle 
is of opinion that a prudent and just   
man may be intemperate and inconsistent4
  ,socrates confessed to some who had   
discovered a certain inclination to vice
 in his physiognomy1 that it was1 in    
truth1 his natural propension1 but that 
he had by discipline corrected it4  ,and
 such as were familiar with the         
philosopher ,stilpo said1 that being    
born with addiction to wine and women1  
he had by study rendered himself very   
abstinent both from the one and the     
other4  ,what ,i have in me of good1 ,i 
have1 quite contrary1 by the chance of  
my birth2 and hold it not either by law1
 precept1 or any other instruction2 the 
innocence that is in me is a simple one2
 little vigour and no art4 ,amongst     
other vices1 ,i mortally hate cruelty1  
both by nature and judgment1 as the very
 extreme of all vices3 nay1 with so much
 tenderness that ,i cannot see a        
chicken's neck pulled off without       
trouble1 and cannot without impatience  

endure the cry of a hare in my dog's    
teeth1 though the chase be a violent    
pleasure4  ,such as have sensuality to  
encounter1 freely make use of this      
argument1 to shew that it is altogether 
vicious and unreasonable2 that when it  
is at the height1 it masters us to that 
degree that a man's reason can have no  
access1 and instance our own experience 
in the act of love1                     
,quum jam praesagit gaudia corpus1      
,atque in eo est ,venus1                
ut muliebria conserat arva4       ,none 
of the translators of the old editions  
used for this etext      have been      
willing to translate this passage from  
,lucretius1 iv4      #ajii2 they take a 
cop out by bashfully saying3 ,the sense 
is in the      preceding passage of the 
text4  ,d4,w4  wherein they conceive    
that the pleasure so transports us1 that
 our reason cannot perform its office1  
whilst we are in such ecstasy and       
rapture4  ,i know very well it may be   
otherwise1 and that a man may sometimes1

 if he will1 gain this point over       
himself to sway his soul1 even in the   
critical moment1 to think of something  
else2 but then he must ply it to that   
bent4 ,i know that a man may triumph    
over the utmost effort of this pleasure3
 ,i have experienced it in myself1 and  
have not found ,venus so imperious a    
goddess1 as many1 and much more virtuous
 men than ,i1 declare4  ,i do not       
consider it a miracle1 as the ,queen of 
,navarre does in one of the ,tales of   
her ,heptameron--,vu gentil liure pour  
son estoffe4--7which is a very pretty   
book of its kind71 nor for a thing of   
extreme difficulty1 to pass whole       
nights1 where a man has all the         
convenience and liberty he can desire1  
with a long-coveted mistress1 and yet be
 true to the pledge first given to      
satisfy himself with kisses and suchlike
 endearments1 without pressing any      
further4  ,i conceive that the example  
of the pleasure of the chase would be   
more proper2 wherein though the pleasure

 be less1 there is the higher excitement
 of unexpected joy1 giving no time for  
the reason1 taken by surprise1 to       
prepare itself for the encounter1 when  
after a long quest the beast starts up  
on a sudden in a place where1           
peradventure1 we least expected it2 the 
shock and the ardour of the shouts and  
cries of the hunters so strike us1 that 
it would be hard for those who love this
 lesser chase1 to turn their thoughts   
upon the instant another way2 and the   
poets make ,diana triumph over the torch
 and shafts of ,cupid3                  
,quis non malarum1 quas amor curas      
habet1                ,haec inter       
obliviscitur8       ,who1 amongst such  
delights would not remove out of his    
thoughts      the anxious cares of      
love4--,horace1 ,epod41 ii4 #cg4  ,to   
return to what ,i was saying before1 ,i 
am tenderly compassionate of others'    
afflictions1 and should readily cry for 
company1 if1 upon any occasion whatever1
 ,i could cry at all4  ,nothing tempts  

my tears but tears1 and not only those  
that are real and true1 but whatever    
they are1 feigned or painted4  ,i do not
 much lament the dead1 and should envy  
them rather2 but ,i very much lament the
 dying4  ,the savages do not so much    
offend me1 in roasting and eating the   
bodies of the dead1 as they do who      
torment and persecute the living4  ,nay1
 ,i cannot look so much as upon the     
ordinary executions of justice1 how     
reasonable soever1 with a steady eye4   
,some one having to give testimony of   
,julius ,caesar's clemency2 he was1 says
 he1 mild in his revenges4  ,having     
compelled the pirates to yield by whom  
he had before been taken prisoner and   
put to ransom2 forasmuch as he had      
threatened them with the cross1 he      
indeed condemned them to it1 but it was 
after they had been first strangled4    
,he punished his secretary ,philemon1   
who had attempted to poison him1 with no
 greater severity than mere death4      
,without naming that ,latin             

author1--,suetonius1 ,life of ,casay1 c4
 #gd4--who thus dares to allege as a    
testimony of mercy the killing only of  
those by whom we have been offended2 it 
is easy to guess that he was struck with
 the horrid and inhuman examples of     
cruelty practised by the ,roman tyrants4
  ,for my part1 even in justice itself1 
all that exceeds a simple death appears 
to me pure cruelty2 especially in us who
 ought1 having regard to their souls1 to
 dismiss them in a good and calm        
condition2 which cannot be1 when we have
 agitated them by insufferable torments4
  ,not long since1 a soldier who was a  
prisoner1 perceiving from a tower where 
he was shut up1 that the people began to
 assemble to the place of execution1 and
 that the carpenters were busy erecting 
a scaffold1 he presently concluded that 
the preparation was for him1 and        
therefore entered into a resolution to  
kill himself1 but could find no         
instrument to assist him in his design  
except an old rusty cart-nail that      

fortune presented to him2 with this he  
first gave himself two great wounds     
about his throat1 but finding these     
would not do1 he presently afterwards   
gave himself a third in the belly1 where
 he left the nail sticking up to the    
head4  ,the first of his keepers who    
came in found him in this condition3 yet
 alive1 but sunk down and exhausted by  
his wounds4  ,to make use of time1      
therefore1 before he should die1 they   
made haste to read his sentence2 which  
having done1 and he hearing that he was 
only condemned to be beheaded1 he seemed
 to take new courage1 accepted wine     
which he had before refused1 and thanked
 his judges for the unhoped-for mildness
 of their sentence2 saying1 that he had 
taken a resolution to despatch himself  
for fear of a more severe and           
insupportable death1 having entertained 
an opinion1 by the preparations he had  
seen in the place1 that they were       
resolved to torment him with some       
horrible execution1 and seemed to be    

delivered from death in having it       
changed from what he apprehended4  ,i   
should advise that those examples of    
severity by which 'tis designed to      
retain the people in their duty1 might  
be exercised upon the dead bodies of    
criminals2 for to see them deprived of  
sepulture1 to see them boiled and       
divided into quarters1 would almost work
 as much upon the vulgar1 as the pain   
they make the living endure2 though that
 in effect be little or nothing1 as ,god
 himself says1 ,who kill the body1 and  
after that have no more that they can   
do2--,luke1 xii4  #d4--;and the poets   
singularly dwell upon the horrors of    
this picture1 as something worse than   
death3           ,heu6 reliquias        
semiustas regis1 denudatis ossibus1     
,per terram sanie delibutas foede       
divexarier4       ,alas6 that the       
half-burnt remains of the king1 exposing
 his bones1      should be foully       
dragged along the ground besmeared with 
gore4      --,cicero1 ,tusc4 ,quaes41 i4

 #dd4  ,i happened to come by one day   
accidentally at ,rome1 just as they were
 upon executing ,catena1 a notorious    
robber3 he was strangled without any    
emotion of the spectators1 but when they
 came to cut him in quarters1 the       
hangman gave not a blow that the people 
did not follow with a doleful cry and   
exclamation1 as if every one had lent   
his sense of feeling to the miserable   
carcase4  ,those inhuman excesses ought 
to be exercised upon the bark1 and not  
upon the quick4  ,artaxerxes1 in almost 
a like case1 moderated the severity of  
the ancient laws of ,persia1 ordaining  
that the nobility who had committed a   
fault1 instead of being whipped1 as they
 were used to be1 should be stripped    
only and their clothes whipped for them2
 and that whereas they were wont to tear
 off their hair1 they should only take  
off their high-crowned                  
tiara4'--,plutarch1 ,notable ,sayings of
 the ,ancient ,king4--,the so devout    
,egyptians thought they sufficiently    

satisfied the divine justice by         
sacrificing hogs in effigy and          
representation2 a bold invention to pay 
,god so essential a substance in picture
 only and in show4  ,i live in a time   
wherein we abound in incredible examples
 of this vice1 through the licence of   
our civil wars2 and we see nothing in   
ancient histories more extreme than what
 we have proof of every day1 but ,i     
cannot1 any the more1 get used to it4   
,i could hardly persuade myself1 before 
,i saw it with my eyes1 that there could
 be found souls so cruel and fell1 who1 
for the sole pleasure of murder1 would  
commit it2 would hack and lop off the   
limbs of others2 sharpen their wits to  
invent unusual torments and new kinds of
 death1 without hatred1 without profit1 
and for no other end but only to enjoy  
the pleasant spectacle of the gestures  
and motions1 the lamentable groans and  
cries of a man dying in anguish4  ,for  
this is the utmost point to which       
cruelty can arrive3                ,ut  

homo hominem1 non iratus1 non timens1   
tantum spectaturus1 occidat4       ,that
 a man should kill a man1 not being     
angry1 not in fear1 only      for the   
sake of the spectacle4--,seneca1 ,ep41  
#ij4  ,for my own part1 ,i cannot       
without grief see so much as an innocent
 beast pursued and killed that has no   
defence1 and from which we have received
 no offence at all2 and that which      
frequently happens1 that the stag we    
hunt1 finding himself weak and out of   
breath1 and seeing no other remedy1     
surrenders himself to us who pursue him1
 imploring mercy by his tears3          
,questuque cruentus1                    
,atque imploranti similis1              
,who1 bleeding1 by his tears seems to   
crave mercy4           --,a,enead1 vii4 
#eja4  has ever been to me a very       
unpleasing sight2 and ,i hardly ever    
take a beast alive that ,i do not       
presently turn out again4  ,pythagoras  
bought them of fishermen and fowlers to 
do the same3                            

,primoque a caede ferarum1              
,incaluisse puto maculatum sanguine     
ferrum4        ,i think 'twas slaughter 
of wild beasts that first stained the   
steel of man with blood4--,ovid1 ,met41 
xv4 #ajf4  ,those natures that are      
sanguinary towards beasts discover a    
natural proneness to cruelty4  ,after   
they had accustomed themselves at ,rome 
to spectacles of the slaughter of       
animals1 they proceeded to those of the 
slaughter of men1 of gladiators4        
,nature has herself1 ,i fear1 imprinted 
in man a kind of instinct to inhumanity2
 nobody takes pleasure in seeing beasts 
play with and caress one another1 but   
every one is delighted with seeing them 
dismember1 and tear one another to      
pieces4  ,and that ,i may not be laughed
 at for the sympathy ,i have with them1 
theology itself enjoins us some favour  
in their behalf2 and considering that   
one and the same master has lodged us   
together in this palace for his service1
 and that they1 as well as we1 are of   

his family1 it has reason to enjoin us  
some affection and regard to them4      
,pythagoras borrowed the metempsychosis 
from the ,egyptians2 but it has since   
been received by several nations1 and   
particularly by our ,druids3            
,morte carent animae2 semperque1 priore 
relicts           ,sede1 novis domibus  
vivunt1 habitantque receptae4           
,souls never die1 but1 having left their
 former seat1 live      and are received
 into new homes4--,ovid1 ,met41 xv4     
#aeh4  ,the religion of our ancient     
,gauls maintained that souls1 being     
eternal1 never ceased to remove and     
shift their places from one body to     
another2 mixing moreover with this fancy
 some consideration of divine justice2  
for according to the deportments of the 
soul1 whilst it had been in ,alexander1 
they said that ,god assigned it another 
body to inhabit1 more or less painful1  
and proper for its condition3           
,muta ferarum                ,cogit     
vincla pati2 truculentos ingerit ursis1 

,praedonesque lupis2 fallaces vulpibus  
addit3                ,atque ubi per    
varios annos1 per mille figuras         
,egit1 ,lethaeo purgatos flumine1 tandem
                ,rursus ad humanae      
revocat primordia formae3       ,he     
makes them wear the silent chains of    
brutes1 the bloodthirsty      souls he  
encloses in bears1 the thieves in       
wolves1 the deceivers in      foxes2    
where1 after successive years and a     
thousand forms1 man had      spent his  
life1 and after purgation in ,lethe's   
flood1 at last he      restores them to 
the primordial human shapes4            
--,claudian1 ,in ,ruf41 ii4 #dhb4  ,if  
it had been valiant1 he lodged it in the
 body of a lion2 if voluptuous1 in that 
of a hog2 if timorous1 in that of a hart
 or hare2 if malicious1 in that of a    
fox1 and so of the rest1 till having    
purified it by this chastisement1 it    
again entered into the body of some     
other man3                 ,ipse ego nam
 memini1 ,trojani1 tempore belli        

,panthoides ,euphorbus eram4       ,for 
,i myself remember that1 in the days of 
the ,trojan war1 ,i was      ,euphorbus1
 son of ,pantheus4--,ovid1 ,met41 xv4   
#afj2 and see ,diogenes      ,laertius1 
,life of ,pythagoras4  ,as to the       
relationship betwixt us and beasts1 ,i  
do not much admit of it2 nor of that    
which several nations1 and those among  
the most ancient and most noble1 have   
practised1 who have not only received   
brutes into their society and           
companionship1 but have given them a    
rank infinitely above themselves1       
esteeming them one while familiars and  
favourites of the gods1 and having them 
in more than human reverence and        
respect2 others acknowledged no other   
god or divinity than they3              
,bellux a barbaris propter beneficium   
consecratae4       ,beasts1 out of      
opinion of some benefit received by     
them1 were      consecrated by          
barbarians--,cicero1 ,de ,natura ,deor41
 i4 #cf4                                

,crocodilon adorat                ,pars 
haec2 illa pavet saturam serpentibus    
ibin3                ,effigies sacri hic
 nitet aurea cercopitheci2              
,hic piscem flumints1 illic             
,oppida tota canem venerantur4          
,this place adores the crocodile2       
another dreads the ibis1 feeder      on 
serpents2 here shines the golden image  
of the sacred ape2 here      men        
venerate the fish of the river2 there   
whole towns worship a                   
dog4--,juvenal1 xv4 #b4  ,and the very  
interpretation that ,plutarch1 gives to 
this error1 which is very well          
conceived1 is advantageous to them3 for 
he says that it was not the cat or the  
ox1 for example1 that the ,egyptians    
adored3 but that they1 in those beasts1 
adored some image of the divine         
faculties2 in this1 patience and        
utility3 in that1 vivacity1 or1 as with 
our neighbours the ,burgundians and all 
the ,germans1 impatience to see         
themselves shut up2 by which they       

represented liberty1 which they loved   
and adored above all other godlike      
attributes1 and so of the rest4  ,but   
when1 amongst the more moderate         
opinions1 ,i meet with arguments that   
endeavour to demonstrate the near       
resemblance betwixt us and animals1 how 
large a share they have in our greatest 
privileges1 and with how much           
probability they compare us together1   
truly ,i abate a great deal of our      
presumption1 and willingly resign that  
imaginary sovereignty that is attributed
 to us over other creatures4  ,but      
supposing all this were not true1 there 
is nevertheless a certain respect1 a    
general duty of humanity1 not only to   
beasts that have life and sense1 but    
even to trees1 and plants4  ,we owe     
justice to men1 and graciousness and    
benignity to other creatures that are   
capable of it2 there is a certain       
commerce and mutual obligation betwixt  
them and us4 ,nor shall ,i be afraid to 
confess the tenderness of my nature so  

childish1 that ,i cannot well refuse to 
play with my dog1 when he the most      
unseasonably importunes me to do so4    
,the ,turks have alms and hospitals for 
beasts4  ,the ,romans had public care to
 the nourishment of geese1 by whose     
vigilance their ,capitol had been       
preserved4  ,the ,athenians made a      
decree that the mules and moyls which   
had served at the building of the temple
 called ,hecatompedon should be free and
 suffered to pasture at their own       
choice1 without hindrance4  ,the        
,agrigentines  had a common use solemnly
 to inter the beasts they had a kindness
 for1 as horses of some rare quality1   
dogs1 and useful birds1 and even those  
that had only been kept to divert their 
children2 and the magnificence that was 
ordinary with them in all other things1 
also particularly appeared in the       
sumptuosity and numbers of monuments    
erected to this end1 and which remained 
in their beauty several ages after4     
,the ,egyptians buried wolves1 bears1   

crocodiles1 dogs1 and cats in sacred    
places1 embalmed their bodies1 and put  
on mourning at their death4  ,cimon gave
 an honourable sepulture to the mares   
with which he had three times gained the
 prize of the course at the ,olympic    
,games4  ,the ancient ,xantippus caused 
his dog to be interred on an eminence   
near the sea1 which has ever since      
retained the name1 and ,plutarch says1  
that he had a scruple about selling for 
a small profit to the slaughterer an ox 
that had been long in his service4      
,,etext ,,editor',s ,,bookmarks3        
,a little cheese when a mind to make a  
feast      ,a word ill taken obliterates
 ten years' merit      ,cato said3 ,so  
many servants1 so many enemies          
,cherish themselves most where they are 
most wrong      ,condemn all violence in
 the education of a tender soul         
,cruelty is the very extreme of all     
vices      ,disguise1 by their          
abridgments and at their own choice     
,epicurus      ,flatterer in your old   

age or in your sickness      ,he felt a 
pleasure and delight in so noble an     
action      ,he judged other men by     
himself      ,i cannot well refuse to   
play with my dog      ,i do not much    
lament the dead1 and should envy them   
rather      ,i had rather be old a brief
 time1 than be old before old age       
,i owe it rather to my fortune than my  
reason      ,incline the history to     
their own fancy      ,it 7my books7 may 
know many things that are gone from me  
,knowledge and truth may be in us       
without judgment      ,learn the theory 
from those who best know the practice   
,loved them for our sport1 like monkeys1
 and not as men      ,motive to some    
vicious occasion or some prospect of    
profit      ,my books3 from me hold that
 which ,i have not retained      ,my dog
 unseasonably importunes me to play     
,my innocence is a simple one2 little   
vigour and no art4      ,never observed 
any great stability in my soul to resist
 passions      ,nothing tempts my tears 

but tears      ,omit1 as incredible1    
such things as they do not understand   
,on all occasions to contradict and     
oppose      ,only desire to become more 
wise1 not more learned or eloquent      
,passion of dandling and caressing      
infants scarcely born      ,perfection3 
but ,i will not buy it so dear as it    
costs      ,plato will have nobody marry
 before thirty      ,prudent and just   
man may be intemperate and inconsistent 
,puerile simplicities of our children   
,shelter my own weakness under these    
great reputations      ,socrates kept a 
confounded scolding wife      ,the      
authors1 with whom ,i converse          
,there is no recompense becomes virtue  
,to do well where there was danger was  
the proper office      ,to whom no one  
is ill who can be good8      ,turks have
 alms and hospitals for beasts          
,vices will cling together1 if a man    
have not a care      ,virtue is much    
strengthened by combats      ,virtue    
refuses facility for a companion