THE SUMMARY
[Hardly can it be defined whether of these two extremities is more to be feared, to wit, blockish stupidity or vain presumption, considering the dangerous effects proceeding as well from the one as the other. And contrariwise, an excellent matter it is to be able for to teach men the means to avoid both extremes, and to hold the mean between. And this is the very thing that our author doth in this present treatise: for as he laboureth to disrobe as it were the lovers of virtue and turn them out of their habit of perverse ignorance, wherewith most part of the world is always clad; so he is desirous to keep them from putting on the habiliment and garments of pride and vain ostentation, that they might be arrayed with the apparel of virtue, in such sort that in taking knowledge of that good whereof they have already some part, they might endeavour and do what they can to get a greater portion from day to day, until they come unto an assured contentment wherein they may rest. Then teacheth he how to know what a man hath profited in the school and exercise of virtue, shewing that he ought to consider first, whether he recoil from vice by little and little; wherein he confuteth the opinion of the Stoics, who imagined that no man was good unless he became virtuous all at once. This done, he adjoineth four rules to know the said profit and progress in virtue, to wit. When we perceive our heart to tend unto good without any intermission: When our affection redeemeth and regaineth the time that is lost, growing so much the more, as it was before stayed and hindered: When we begin to take our whole pleasure and delight therein: lastly, When we surmount and overcome all impeachments that might turn us aside out of the way of virtue. After all this, he entereth into the matter more specially, and showeth how a man is to employ himself in the study of wisdom; what vices he ought to fly; wherein his mind and spirits should be occupied; and the profit that he is to reap and gather from philosophers, poets, and historians. Item, with what affection we ought to speak in the presence of our neighbours, whether it be publicly or in private; of what sort our actions should be; and to what end and scope we are to address and direct them, giving a lustre unto all these discourses by excellent similitudes; taxing and reproving the faults committed ordinarily by them who make a certain semblance and outwEird shew of aspiring unto virtue. Having thus discoursed of these points aforesaid, he proposeth and setteth down again divers rules which may resolve us in this advancement and proceeding forward of ours in goodness, namely, That we ought to love reprehensions; to take heed even unto our dreams; to examine our passions, and so to hope well if we perceive that they wax mild and gentle to imitate good things; in no wise to hear any speech of evil; to take example by the best persons, to rejoice and be glad, to have witnesses and beholders of our goodwill and intention; and not to esteem any sins or trespasses small, but to avoid and shun them all: last of all, he closeth up his treatise with an elegant similitude, wherein he discovereth and layeth open the nature as well of the vicious as the virtuous, thereby to make the means of aspiring and attaining unto virtue so much the more amiable to each person.]
It is not possible (my good friend Sossius Senecio) that a man by any means should have a feeling in himself, and a conscience of his own amendment and progress in virtue, if those good proceedings do not daily make some diminution of his folly, but that the vice in him weighing in equal balance against them all, do hold him down
Like as the lead plucks down the net,
Which for to catch the fish was set.
For so verily in the art of music or grammar a man shall never know how far he is proceeded, so long as in the studying and learning thereof he diminish no part of his ignorance in those arts, but still findeth himself as unmusical and unlettered as he was before; neither the cure which the physician employeth about his patient, if it work no amendment at all, nor alleviation of the disease seeming in some sort to yield unto medicines and to slake, can procure any sensible difference and change unto a better state, before that the contrary disposition and habit be restored perfectly to the former health, and the body made sound and strong again. But certainly, as in these cases there is no amendment to be accounted of, if those that seem to amend do not perceive the change by the diminution and remission of that which weighed them down, and find themselves to incline and bend (as it were) in a balance to the contrary; even so it fareth with those that make profession of philosophy; it cannot be granted that there is any progress or sense at all of profiting, so long as the soul cast not off by little and little and purge away her folly, but until such time as she can attain (forsooth) unto the sovereign and perfect good, continueth in the meanwhile fully possessed of vice and sin in the highest degree; for by this means it would follow, if at one instant and moment of time a wise man should pass from extreme wickedness unto the supreme and highest disposition of virtue: That he had all at once and in the minute of an hour fled vice and cast it from him fully, whereof in a long time before he was not able to be rid of one little portion.
But you know full well already that those who hold such extravagant opinions as these make themselves work enough, and raise great doubts and questions about this point, namely, how a man should not perceive and feel himself when he is become wise, and be either ignorant or doubtful that this growth and increase cometh in long process of time by little and little, partly by addition of something, and partly by subtraction of other, until one arrive gently unto virtue, before he can perceive that he is going toward it. Now if there were so quick and sudden a mutation, as that he who was to-day morning most vicious should become in the evening as virtuous; and if there ever were known to happen unto any man such a change, that going to bed a very fool and so sleeping, should awake and rise a wise man, and taking his leave of yesterday's follies, errors, and deceits, say unto them:
My lying dreams so vain, a-day, a-day,
Nought worth you were, I now both see and say.
Is it possible that such a one (I say) should be ignorant of this sudden change, and not perceive so great a difference in himself, nor feel how wisdom all at once hath thus lightened and illuminated his soul? For mine own part, I would rather think that one upon earnest prayer transformed by the power of the gods from a woman to a man (as the tale goes of Caeneus) should be ignorant of this metamorphosis, than he who of a coward, a fool, and a dissolute or loose person become hardy, wise, sober, and temperate; or being transported from a sensual and beastly life unto a divine and heavenly life, should not mark the very instant wherein such a change did befall. But well it was said in old time: That the stone is to be applied and framed unto the rule, and not the rule or square unto the stone. And they (the Stoics, I mean) who are not willing to accommodate their opinions unto the things indeed, but wrest and force against the course of nature things unto their own conceits and suppositions, have filled all philosophy with great difficulties and doubtful ambiguities; of which this is the greatest: In that they will seem to comprise all men, excepting him only whom they imagine perfect, under one and the same vice in general: which strange supposition of theirs hath caused that this progress and proceeding to virtue, called Προκοπή, seemeth to be a dark and obscure riddle unto them, or a mere fiction little wanting of extreme folly; and those who by the means of this amendment be delivered from all passions and vices that be, are held thereby to be in no better state, nor less wretched and miserable, than those who are not free from any one of the most enormous vices in the world; and yet they refute and condemn their own selves; for in the disputations which they hold in their schools they set the injustice of Aristides in equal balance to that of Phalaris; they make the cowardice and fear of Brasides all one with that of Dolon; yea, and compare the folly or error of Miletus and Plato together, as in no respect different; howbeit, in the whole course of their life and management of their affairs they decline and avoid those as implacable and intractable; but these they use and trust in their most important business as persons of great worth and regard: but we who know and see that in every kind of sin or vice, but principally in the inordinate and confused state of the soul, there be degrees according to more or less; and that herein differ our proceedings and amendments, according as reason by little and little doth illuminate, purge, and cleanse the soul in abating and diminishing evermore the viciosity thereof, which is the shadow that darkeneth it, are likewise fully persuaded that it is not without reason to be assured that men may have an evident sense and perceivance of this mutation, but as if they were raised out of some deep and dark pit, that the same amendment may be reckoned by degrees in what order it goeth forward. In which computation we may go first and foremost directly after this manner, and consider whether, like as they who under sail set their course in the main and vast ocean, by observing together with the length and space of time, the force of the wind that driveth them, do cast and measure how far they have gone forward in their voyage, namely, by a probable conjecture how much in such a time and with such a gale of wind it is like that they may pass; so also in philosophy a man may give a guess and conjecture of his proceeding and going forward, namely, what he may gain by continual marching on still, without stay or intermission otherwhiles in the midst of the way, and then beginning afresh again to leap forward, but always keeping one pace, gaining and getting ground still by the guidance of reason. For this rule:
If little still to little thou do add,
A heap at length and mickle will be had.
Moreover, say that there fall out some interruptions and stays between, that thou live not altogether canonically and like a philosopher; yet if thy latter proceedings be more constant than the former, and the fresh courses that thou takest longer than the other, it is no bad sign, but it testifieth that by labour and exercise idleness is conquered and sloth utterly chased away; whereas the contrary is a very ill sign, to wit, if by reason of many cessations and those coming thick one after another, the heat of the former affection be cooled, languish and weareth to nothing: for like as the shoot of a cane or reed, whiles it hath the full strength and greatest force putteth forth the first stem reaching out in length, straight, even, smooth, and united in the beginning, admitting few knots in great distances between, to stay and put back the growth and rising thereof in height; but afterwards as if it were checked to mount up aloft by reason of short wind and failing of the breath, it is held down by many knots, and those near one to another, as if the spirit therein which coveteth upward found some inpeachment by the way, smiting it back, and causing it as it were to pant and tremble; even so as many as at first took long courses and made haste unto philosophy or amendment of life, and then afterwards meet eftsoons with stumbling-blocks, continually turning them out of the direct way, or other means to distract and pluck them aside, finding no proceeding at all to better them, in the end are weary, give over, and come short of their journey's end; whereas the other abovesaid hath his wings growing still to help his flight, and by reason of the fruit which he findeth in his course goeth on apace, cutteth off all pretences of excuse, breaketh through all lets (which stand as a multitude in the way to hinder his passage), which he doth by fine force and with an industrious affection to attain unto the end of his enterprise. And like as to joy and delight in beholding of beauty present is not a sign of love beginning, for a vulgar and common thing this is, but rather to be grieved and vexed when the same is gone or taken away; even so many there be who conceive pleasure in philosophy, and make semblance as if they had a fervent desire to the study thereof; but if it chance that they be a little retired from it by occasion of other business and affairs, that first affection which they took unto it vanisheth away, and they can well abide to be without philosophy:
But he who feels indeed the prick
Of love that pierceth near the quick,
as one poet saith; will seem unto thee moderate and nothing hot in frequenting the philosophical school and conferring together with thee about philosophy; but let him be plucked from it, and drawn apart from thee, thou shalt see him enflamed in the love thereof, impatient and weary of all other affairs and occupations; thou shalt perceive him even to forget his own friends, such a passionate desire he will have to philosophy. For we ought not so much to delight in learning and philosophy whiles we are in place, as we do in sweet odours, perfumes, and ointments, and when we are away and separated therefrom, never grieve thereat, nor seek after it any more; but it must imprint in our hearts a certain passion like to hunger and thirst when it is taken from us, if we will profit in good earnest and perceive our own progress and amendment; whether it be that marriage, riches, some friendship, expedition or warfare come between, that may drive him away and make separation, for the greater that the fruit is which he gathered by philosophy, so much the more will the grief be to leave and forgo it.
To this first sign of progress in philosophy may be added another of great antiquity out of Hesiodus; which if it be not the very same, certes, it cometh near unto it, and this he describeth after this sort, namely, when a man findeth the way no more difficult, rough, and craggy, nor exceeding steep and upright, but easy, plain, with a gentle descent, as being indeed laid even and smooth by exercise, and wherein now there begins light clearly to appear and shine out of darkness, instead of doubts, ambiguities, errors, and those repentances and changes of mind incident unto those who first betake themselves to the study of philosophy; after the manner of them who, having left behind them a land which they know well enough, are troubled whiles they cannot descry and discover that for which they set sail and bend their course; for even so it is with these persons who, when they have abandoned these common and familiar studies whereto they were inured before they came, to learn, apprehend, and enjoy better, oftentimes in the very middle of their course are carried round about and driven to return back again the same way they came. Like as it is reported of Sexius, a noble man of Rome, who having given over the honourable offices and magistracies in the city, for love of philosophy, afterwards finding himself much troubled in that study, and not able at the beginning to brook and digest the reasons and discourses thereof, was so perplexed that he went very near to have thrown himself into the sea out of a galley.
The semblable example we read in histories of Diogenes the Sinopian, when he first went to the study and profession of philosophy: for when about the same time it chanced that the Athenians celebrated a public solemnity with great feasting and sumptuous fare, with theatrical plays and pastimes, meeting in companies and assemblies to make merry one with another, with revels and dances all night long, himself in an odd corner of the market-place lay lapped round in his clothes, purposing to take a, nap and sleep; where and when he fell into certain fantastical imaginations which did not a little turn and trouble his brains, yea, and break his heart, discoursing thus in his head: That he upon no constraint or necessity should thus wilfully betake himself to a laborious and strange course of painful life, sitting thus by himself mopish, sequestered from all the world, and deprived of all earthly goods; In which thoughts and conceits of his he spied (as the report goeth) a little mouse creeping and running towards the crumbs that were fallen from his loaf of bread, and was very busy about them, whereupon he took heart again, reproved and blamed his own feeble courage, saying thus to himself: What sayest thou, Diogenes? Seest thou not this silly creature what good cheer it maketh with thy leavings? how merry she is whiles she feedeth thereupon? and thou (like a trim man indeed as thou art) dost wail, weep, and lament that thou drinkest not thyself drunk as those do yonder; nor lie in soft and delicate beds, richly set out with gay and costly furniture.
Now when such temptations and distractions as these be return not often, but the rule and discourse of reason presently riseth up against them, maketh head, turneth upon them suddenly again (as it were) in the chase and pursued in the route by enemies, and so quickly discomfiteth and dispatcheth the anxiety and despair of the mind, then a man may be assured that he hath profited indeed in the school of philosophy, and is well settled and confirmed therein. But forasmuch as the occasions which do thus shake men that are given to philosophy, yea, and otherwhiles pluck them a contrary way, do not only proceed from themselves by reason of their own infirmity and so gather strength; but the sad and serious counsels also of friends, together with the reproofs and contradictory assaults made upon them by adversaries, between good earnest and game, do mollify their tender hearts, and make them to bow, bend, and yield, which otherwhiles have been able in the end to drive some altogether from philosophy, who were well entered therein: It may be thought no small sign of good proceeding, if one can endure the same meekly without being moved with such temptations, or any ways troubled and pinched when he shall hear the names and surnames of such and such companions and equals otherwise of his who are come to great credit and wealth in princes' courts; or be advanced by marriages, matching with wives who brought them good dowries and portions; or who are wont to go into the common hall of a city, attended upon and accompanied with a train and troop of the multitude, either to attain unto some place of government, or to plead some notable cause of great consequence: for he that is not disquieted, astonied, or overcome with such assaults, certain it is and we may be bold to conclude that he is arrested (as it were) and held sure as he ought to be by philosophy. For it is not possible for any to cease affecting and loving those things which the multitude doth so highly honour and adore, unless they be such as admire nothing else in the world but virtue. For to brave it out, to contest, and make head against men is a thing incident unto some by occasion of choler, unto others by reason of folly; but to contemn and despise that which others esteem with admiration, no man is able to perform without a great measure of true and resolute magnanimity: In which respect such persons, comparing their state with others, magnify themselves, as Solon did in these words:
Many a wicked man is rich,
And good men there be many poor:
But we will not exchange with sich.
Nor give our goodness for their store.
For virtue ay is durable,
Whereas riches be mutable.
And Diogenes compared his peregrination and flitting from the city of Corinth to Athens, and again, his removing from Thebes to Corinth, unto the progresses and changes of abode that the great king of Persia was wont to make, who in the spring season held his court at Susis; in winter kept house at Babylon; and during summer passed the time and sojourned in Media. Agesiaus hearing upon a time the said king of Persia to be named The great king: And why (quoth he) is he greater than myself? unless it be that he is more just and righteous. And Aristotle, writing unto Antipater as touching Alexander the Great, said: That it became not him only to vaunt much and glorify himself for that his dominions were so great, but also any man else hath no less cause who is instructed in the true knowledge of the gods.
And Zeno, seeing Theophrastus in great admiration because he had many scholars: Indeed (quoth he) his auditory or quire is greater than mine, but mine accordeth better and makes sweeter harmony than his.
Whenas therefore thou hast so grounded and established in thine heart that affection unto virtue which is able to encounter and stand against all external things, when thou hast voided out of thy soul all envies, jealousies and what affections soever are wont either to tickle or to fret, or otherwise to depress and cast down the minds of many that have begun to profess philosophy; this may serve for a great argument and token that thou art well advanced forward, and hast profited much; neither is it a small sign thereof if thou perceive thy language to be changed from that it was wont to be; for all those who are newly entered into the school of philosophy (to speak generally) affect a kind of speech or style which aimeth at glory and vain ostentation: some you shall hear crowing aloud like cocks and mounting up aloft, by reason of their levity and haughty humour, unto the sublimity and splendour of physical things or secrets in nature; others take pleasure (after the manner of wanton whelps, as Plato saith) in tugging and tearing evermore whatsoever they can catch or light upon; they love to be doing with litigious questions, they go directly to dark problems and sophistical subtleties, and most of them being once plunged in the quillits and quidities of logic, make that (as it were) a means or preparative to flesh themselves for sophistry: marry, there be who go all about collecting and gathering together sententious saws and histories of ancient times; and as Anacharsis was wont to say: That he knew no other use that the Greeks had of their coined pieces of money but to tell and number them, or else to cast account and reckon therewith; even so do they nothing else but count and measure their notable sentences and sayings, without drawing any profit or commodity out of them: and the same befalleth unto them which one of Plato's familiars applied unto his scholars by way of allusion to a speech of Antiphanes: this Antiphanes was wont to say in merriment: That there was a city in the world, whereas the words, so soon as ever they were out of the mouth and pronounced, became frozen in the air by reason of the coldness of the place, and so when the heat of summer came to thaw and melt the same, the inhabitants might hear the talk which had been uttered and delivered in winter; even so (quoth he) it is with many of those who come to hear Plato when they be young; for whatsoever he speaketh and readeth unto them, it is very long ere they understand the same, and hardly when they are become old men: and even after the same sort it fareth with them abovesaid, who stand thus affected universally unto philosophy, until their judgment being well settled and grown to sound resolution, begin to apprehend those things which may deeply imprint in the mind a moral affection and passion of love, yea, and to search and trace those speeches whereof the tracks (as Æsop was wont to say) lead rather in than out. For like as Sophocles said merrily upon a time, by way of derision: That he would first cut off the haughty and stately invention of Æschylus, and then abridge his affected, curious, and artificial disposition, and in the third place change the manner and form of his elocution, which is most excellent, and fullest of sweet affections; even so, the students in philosophy, when they shall perceive that they pass from orations exquisitely penned and framed for ostentation in frequent and solemn assemblies, unto moral speeches, and those that touch the quick, as well the mild and gentle motions as the hot and violent passions of the mind, then begin they indeed to lay down all pride and vanity, and profit truly in the school of philosophy.
Consider, then, not only in reading the works of philosophers, or in hearing their lectures, first and foremost, whether thou art not more attentive to the words than to the matter; or whether thou be not carried with a great affection to those who deliver a more subtle and curious composition of sentences, than such as comprise profitable, commodious, substantial and fleshy matters (if I may so say), but also in perusing poems, or taking in hand any history, observe well and take heed that there escape thee lot any one good sentence tending properly to the reformation (if manners or the alleviation of passions: for like as (according to Simonides) the bee settleth upon flowers for to suck out of t the yellow honey, whereas others love only their colour or pleasant scent, and neither care nor seek for anything else thereout; even so, when other men be conversant in poems for pleasure only and pastime, thou finding and gathering somewhat out thereof worth the noting, shalt seem at the first sight to have some knowledge already thereof by a certain custom and acquaintance with it, and a love taken unto it as a good thing and familiar unto thee. As for those that read the books of Plato and Xenophon, in no other regard but for the beauty of their gallant style, seeking for nought else but for the purity of speech and the very natural Attic language, as if they went to gather the thin dew or tender moss or down of herbs: What will you say of such? but that they love physic drugs, which have either a lovely colour or a pleasant smell only; but otherwise the medicinable virtues thereof and properties either to purge the body or mitigate any pain, they neither desire to mow nor are willing to use.
Moreover, such as are proceeded farther and profited more lave the skill and knowledge how to reap fruit not only out of words spoken or books written, but also to receive profit out of ill sights, spectacles, and what things soever they see, gathering rom thence whatsoever is fit and commodious for their purpose; is it is reported of Æschylus and other such as he: For Æschylus, being upon a time at the Isthmian games, beheld the fight of the sword-fencers that fought at sharp, and when one of the said champions had received a grievous wound, whereupon the whole theatre set up a cry, he jogging one that was by him (named Ion of Chios), See you not (quoth he) what use and exercise is able to do? the party himself that is hurt saith never a word, but the lookers-on cry out. Brasides chanced among dry figs to light upon a silly mouse that bit him by the finger, and when he had shaken her off and let her go, said thus to himself: See how there is nothing so little and so feeble but it is able to make shift and save its life, if it dare only defend itself. Diogenes, when he saw one make means to drink out of the ball of his hand, cast away the dish or cup that he carried in his budget. Lo, how attentive taking heed and continual exercise maketh men ready and apt to mark, observe and learn from all things that make any way for their good. And this they may the rather do when they join words and deeds together, not only in that sort (as Thucydides speaketh of) by meditating and exercising themselves with the experience of present perils, but also against pleasures, quarrels, and altercations in judgments about defences of causes and magistracies; as making proof thereby of the opinions that they hold, or rather by carriage of themselves, teaching others what opinions they are to hold. For such as yet be learners, and notwithstanding that, intermeddle in affairs like pragmatical persons, spying how they may catch anything out of philosophy, and go therewith incontinently in manner of jugglers with their box, either into the common place and market or into the school which young men frequent, or else to princes' tables, there to set them abroad; we are not to think them philosophers, no more than those to be physicians who only sell medicinable spices, drugs or compound confections; or to speak more properly, such a sophister or counterfeit philosopher as this resembleth the bird that Homer describeth, which forsooth, so soon as he hath gotten anything, carrieth it to his scholars (as the said bird doth in her mouth convey meat to her naked young ones that cannot fly):
And so himself he doth beguile,
And thereby take much harm the while,
converting and distributing naught of all that which he hath gotten to his own nourishment, nor so much as concocting and digesting the same: and therefore we ought of necessity to regard and consider well whether we use any discourse and place our words so, that for ourselves they may do good; and in regard of others make no shew of vainglory nor ambitious desire to be known abroad, but only of an intention rather to hear, or else to teach.
But principally we are to observe whether our wrangling humour and desire to be cavilling about questions disputable be allayed in us or no, as also whether we have yet given over to devise reasons and arguments to assail others; like as champions armed with hurlbats of tough leather about their arms, and balls in their hands, to annoy their concurrents, taking more pleasure and delight to fell and astonish with one rap our adversary, and so to lay him along on the earth, than to learn or teach him: for surely modesty, mildness, and courtesy in this kind will do well; and when a man is not willing to enter into any conference or disputation, with a purpose to put down and vanquish another, nor to break out into fits of choler, nor having evicted his adversary, to be ready as they say to tread and trample him under foot, nor to seem displeased and discontent if himself have the foil and be put to the worst, be all good signs of one that hath sufficiently profited. And this shewed Aristippus very well upon a time when he was so hardly pressed and overlaid in a certain disputation, that he knew not what answer to make presently unto his adversary, a jolly bold and audacious sophister, but otherwise a brainsick fool and without all judgment: for Aristippus seeing him to vaunt himself, puffed up with vainglory, that he had put him to a non plus: Well (quoth he), I see that for this time I go away with the worse, but surely when I am gone I will sleep more soundly and quietly than you that have gotten the better.
Moreover, we may also prove and sound ourselves, whether we have profited or no, even whiles we speak in public place; namely, if neither upon the sight of a greater audience than we looked for we shrink not for fear and false heart, nor contrariwise be discouraged to see fewer come to hear our exercises than we hoped for; nor yet when we are to make a speech to the people, or before a great magistrate, we lose the opportunity thereof, for that we have not well premeditated thereof before, nor come provided of apt words to declare our mind, a thing that by report befell unto Demosthenes and Alcibiades: for Alcibiades, as he was passing ingenious and inventive of matter, so he wanted audacity, and was not so ready as some other to utter the same, but troubled eftsoons in his pleading and delivery of it, insomuch as many times in the very midst of his oration he would be out and to seek for a proper and fit term to express the conception of his mind, or else to recover that word again which was slipt and escaped out of his memory. As for Homer, he had such an opinion of his own perfection and his poetical vein in the rest of all his work, that he stuck not to set down the very first verse of his poem defective in measure, and not answerable to the rules of versifying. So much the rather, therefore, likely it is that they who set nothing before their eyes, nor aim at ought else but virtue only and honesty, will make use of the present occasion and the occurrence of affairs, fall out as they will, without regard of applause, hissing or any other noise whatsoever in token of liking or disliking their speech.
Now every man ought to consider not only his own speeches, but also his actions, namely, whether they carry with them more profit and sound truth than vain pomp and ostentation; for if the true love indeed of young folk, man or woman, requireth no witnesses, but resteth in the private contentment and enjoying of their sweet delights, although the same were performed and their desires fully accomplished secretly between them without the privity of any person: how much more credible is it that he who is enamoured of honesty and wisdom, using the company and fellowship familiarly of virtue by his actions, and enjoying the same, shall find in himself without saying one word an exceeding great contentment, and demand no other hearers or beholders but his own conscience? For like as he was but a vain fool who called unto his maid in the house and cried with a loud voice: Dionysia, come and see I am not proud and vain-glorious now as I was wont to be; even so he that hath done some virtuous and commendable act, and then goes forth to tell it abroad and spread the fruit thereof in every place, certain it is that such an one regards still outward vanities, and is carried with a covetous desire of vainglory, neither hath he ever had as yet a true sight indeed and perfect vision of virtue, but only a fantastical dream of her, imagining as he lies asleep that he seeth some wandering shadow and image thereof, and then afterward representeth thus unto his view that which he hath done, as a painted table to look upon.
Well, then, it is the property of him that proceedeth in virtue, not only when he hath bestowed something upon his friend, or done a good turn unto one of his familiars, for to make no words thereof; but also, when he hath given his voice justly, or delivered his opinion truly, among many others that are unjust and untrue; or when he hath flatly denied the unhonest request, or stoutly crossed a bad motion of some rich man, great lord or mighty magistrate; or refused gifts and bribes; or proceeded so far that being athirst in the night he hath not drunk at all; or hath refused to kiss a beautiful boy or fair maiden and turned away from them coming toward him as Agesilaus did, to keep all this to himself and say nothing: For such a one as is content to be proved and tried by his own self, not setting light by that trial and judgment, but joying and taking delight in his conscience, as being a sufficient witness and beholder, both of good things and commendable actions, sheweth that reason hath turned in, to lodge and keep resistance with him, that it hath taken deep root there: and as Democritus saith: That he is well framed, and by custom brought to rejoice and take pleasure in himself. And like as husbandmen are more glad and willing to see the ears of corn hang down their heads, and bend toward the earth, than those who for their lightness stand straight, upright and staring aloft, for that they suppose such ears are empty, or have little or nothing in them, for all their fair shew; even so, among young men, students in philosophy, they that have least in them of any weight, and be most void, be those that are at the very first most confident; set the greatest countenance; carry the biggest port in their gait, and have the boldest face, shewing therein how full they are of pride in themselves, contempt of all others, and sparing of none: but afterwards, as they begin to grow on and burnish, furnishing and filling themselves with the fruits indeed of reason and learning, then and never before they lay away these proud looks; then down goes this vain pride and outward ostentation. And like as we see in vessels, whereinto men use to pour in liquor, according to the quantity and measure of the said liquor that goeth in, the air which was there before flieth out; even so to the proportion of those good things which are certain and true indeed, wherewith men are replenished, their vanity giveth place, all their hypocrisy vanisheth away, their swelling and puffing pride doth abate and fall, and giving over then to stand upon their goodly long beards and side robes, they transfer the exercise of outward things into the mind and soul within, using the sharp bit of bitter reprehension principally against themselves. And as for others, they can find in their hearts to devise, confer, and talk with them more graciously and with greater courtesy; the manner of philosophy, and reputation of philosophers, they do not usurp nor take upon them, neither do they use it as their addition in former time; and if haply one of them by some other be called by that name, he will not answer to it; but if he be a young gentleman indeed, after a smiling and pleasant manner, yea, and blushing withal for shame, he will say thus out of the poet Homer:
I am no god nor heavenly wight:
Why dost thou give to me their right?
For true it is as Æschylus saith:
A damsel young if she have known
And tasted man once carnally.
Her eye doth it bewray anon,
It sparkles fire suspiciously.
But a young man having truly tasted the profit and proceeding in philosophy, hath these signs following him, which the poetess Sappho setteth down in these verses:
When I you see, what do I ail?
First suddenly my voice doth fail.
And then like fire a colour red.
Under my skin doth run and spread.
It would do you good to view his settled and staid countenance to behold the pleasant and sweet regard of his eye, and to hear him when he speaketh: for like as those who are professed in any confraternity of holy mysteries, at their first assembly and meeting together, hurry in tumultuous sort with great noise, insomuch as they thrust and throng one another; but when they come to celebrate the divine service thereto belonging, and that the sacred relics and ornaments are once shewed, they are very attentive with reverent fear and devout silence; so, at the beginning of the study of philosophy, and in the very entry (as it were) of the gate that leadeth unto it, a man shall see' much ado, a foul stir, great audaciousness, insolency, and jangling words more than enough; for that some there be who would intrude themselves rudely, and thrust into the place violently, for the greedy desire they have to win reputation and credit: but he that is once within and seeth the great light, as if the sanctuaries and sacred cabinets or tabernacles were set open, anon he putteth on another habit, and a divers countenance with silence and astonishment, he becometh humble, pliable and modest, ready to follow the discourse of reason and doctrine, no less than the direction of some god. To such as these, methinks, I may do very well to accommodate that speech which Menedemus sometime in mirth spake pleasantly: Many there be that sail to Athens (quoth he) for to go to school there, who when they come first thither seem sophi[1] that is, be wise, and afterwards prove philosophi,[2] that is, lovers of wisdom; then of philosophers they become sophisters,[3] that is, professors and readers, until in process of time they grow to be idiots,[4] that is to say, ignorant and fools to see to: for the nearer that they approach to the use of reason and to learning indeed, the more do they abridge the opinion that they have of themselves, and lay down their presumption.
Among those that have need of physic, some that are troubled with the toothache, or have a felon or whitflaw on their finger, go themselves to the physician for to have remedy; others who are sick of an ague send for the physician home to their houses, and desire to be eased and cured by him; but those that are fallen either into a fit of melancholy, or phrensy, or otherwise be distracted in their brains and out of their right wits, otherwhiles will not admit or receive the physicians, although they came of themselves uncalled, but either drive them out of doors, or else hide themselves out of their sight, and so far gone they be and dangerously sick, that they feel not their own sickness; semblably of those who sin and do amiss, such be incorrigible and uncurable, who are grievously offended and angry, yea, and in mortal hatred with those who seem to admonish and reprove them for their misbehaviour; but such as will abide them, and are content to receive and entertain them, be in better state and on a readier way to recover their health: marry, he that yieldeth himself to such as rebuke him, confessing unto them his errors, discovering of his own accord his poverty and nakedness, unwilling that anything as touching his state should be hidden, not loving to be unknown and secret, but acknowledging and avowing all that he is charged with, yea, and who prayeth a man to check, to reprove, to touch him to the quick, and so raveth for help; certainly herein he sheweth no small sign of good progress and amendment: according to that which Diogenes was wont to say: He that would be saved, (that is to say) become an honest man, had need to seek either a good friend or a sharp and bitter enemy, to the end that either by gentle reproof and admonition, or else by a rigorous cure of correction, he may be delivered from his vices.
But how much soever a man in a glorious bravery sheweth those that be abroad either a foul and threadbare coat or a stained garment, or a rent shoe, or in a kind of a presumptuous humility mocketh himself in that peradventure he is of a very low stature, crooked or hunch-backed, and thinketh herein that he doth a worthy and doughty deed; but in the meanwhile covereth and hideth the ordures and filthiness of his vile life, cloaketh the villanous enormities of his manners, his envy, maliciousness, avarice, sensual voluptuousness, as if they were beastly botches or ugly ulcers, suffering nobody to touch them, nay, nor so much as to see them, and all for fear of reproof and rebuke, certes, such a one hath profited but a little, or to speak more truly, never a whit at all; but he that is ready to encounter and set upon these vices, and either is willing and able (which is the chief and principal) to chastise and condemn, yea, and put himself to sorrow for his faults; or if not so, yet in the second place at the least can endure patiently, that another man by his reprehensions and remonstrances should cleanse and purge him; certes, evident it is that such an one hateth and detesteth wickedness indeed, and is in the right way to shake it off: and verily, we ought to avoid the very name and appearance only thereof, and to be ashamed for to be thought and reputed wicked; but he that grieveth more at the substance of vice itself than the infamy that cometh thereof, will never be afraid, but can very well abide both to speak hardly of himself and to hear ill by others, so he may be the better thereby. To this purpose may very well be applied a pretty speech of Diogenes unto a certain yonker, who perceiving that Diogenes had an eye on him within a tavern or tippling-house, withdrew himself quickly more inward, for to be out of his sight: Never do so (quoth he), for the farther thou fliest backward the more shalt thou be still in the tavern; even so a man may say of those that be given to vice, for the more that any one of them seemeth to deny his fault, the farther is he engaged and the deeper sunk in sin; like as poor men, the greater shew that they make of riches, the poorer they be, by reason of their vanity and bragging of that which they have not. But he that profiteth indeed hath for a good precedent and example to follow that famous physician Hippocrates, who both openly confessed and also put down in writing, that he was ignorant in the anatomy of a man's head, and namely, as touching the seams or sutures thereof; and this account will he make, that it were an unworthy indignity if (when such a man as Hippocrates thought not much to publish his own error and ignorance, for fear that others might fall into the like) he who is willing to save himself from perdition, cannot endure to be reproved, nor acknowledge his own ignorance and folly. As for those rules and precepts which are delivered by Pyrrho and Bion in this case are not in my conceit the signs of amendment and progress so much as of some other more perfect and absolute habit rather of the mind; for Bion willed and required his scholars and familiars that conversed with him, to think then (and never before) that they had proceeded and profited in philosophy, when they could with as good a will abide to hear men revile and rail at them, as if they spake unto them in this manner:
Good sir, you seem no person lewd,
Nor foolish sot, iwis:
All hail, fair chieve you and adieu,
God send you always bliss
And Pyrrho (as it is reported), being upon a time at sea and in danger to be cast away in a tempest, shewed unto the rest of his fellow-passengers a porket feeding hard upon barley cast before him on shipboard: Lo, my masters (quoth he), we ought by reason and exercise in philosophy to frame ourselves to this pass, and to attain unto such an impassibility as to be moved and troubled with the accidents of fortune no more than this pig.
But consider, furthermore, what was the conceit and opinion of Zeno in this point; for he was of mind that every man might and ought to know whether he profited or no in the school of virtue, even by his very dreams; namely, if he took no pleasure to see in his sleep any filthy or dishonest thing, nor delighted to imagine that he either intended, did or approved any lewd, unjust or outrageous action; but rather did behold (as in a settled calm, without wind, weather and wave, in the clear bottom of the water) both the imaginative and also the passive faculty of the soul, wholly overspread and lightened with the bright beams of reason: which Plato before him (as it should seem) knowing well enough, hath prefigured and represented unto us what fantastical motions they be that proceed in sleep from the imaginative and sensual part of the soul given by nature to tyrannise and overrule the guidance of reason; namely, if a man dream that he seeketh to have carnal company with his own mother, or that he hath a great mind and appetite to eat all strange, unlawful, and forbidden meats; as if then the said tyrant gave himself wholly to all those sensualities and concupiscences as being let loose at such a time, which by day the law either by fear or shame doth repress and keep down. Like as therefore beasts which serve for draught or saddle, if they be well taught and trained, albeit their governors and rulers let the reins loose and give them the head, fling not out nor go aside from the right way, but either draw or make pace forward still, and as they were wont ordinarily keep the same train and hold on in one course and order, even so they whose sensual part of the soul is made trainable and obedient, tame and well schooled by the discipline of reason, will neither in dreams nor sicknesses easily suffer the lusts and concupiscences of the flesh to rage or break out unto any enormities punishable by law; but will observe and keep still in memory that good discipline and custom which doth ingenerate a certain power and efficacy unto diligence, whereby they shall and will take heed unto themselves: for if the mind hath been used by exercise to resist passions and temptations, to hold the body and all the members thereof as it were with bit and bridle under subjection, in such sort that it hath at command the eyes not to shed tears for pity; the heart likewise not to leap and pant in fear; the natural parts not to rise nor stir, but to be still and quiet without any trouble at all, upon the sight of any fair and beautiful person, man or woman; how can it otherwise be but that there should be more likelihood that exercise having seized upon the sensual part of the soul and tamed it, should polish, lay even, reform, and bring unto good order all the imaginations and motions thereof, even as far as to the very dreams and fantasies in sleep: as it is reported of Stilpo the philosopher, who dreamed that he saw Neptune expostulating with him in anger, because he had not killed a beef to sacrifice unto him as the manner was of other priests to do, and that himself, nothing astonied or dismayed at the said vision, should answer thus again: What is that thou sayst, Neptune? comest thou to complain indeed like a child (who pules and cries for not having a piece big enough) that I take not up some money at interest, and put myself in debt, to fill the whole city with the scent and savour of roast and burnt, but have sacrificed unto thee such as I had at home according to my ability and in a mean? Whereupon Neptune (as he thought) should merrily smile and reach forth unto him his right hand, promising that for his sake and for the love of him he would that year send the Megarians great store of rain and good foison of sea-loaches or fishes called aphycB by that means coming unto them by whole sculls. Such, then, as while they lie asleep have no illusions arising in their brains to trouble them, but those dreams or visions only as be joyous, pleasant, plain, and evident, not painful nor terrible, nothing rough, malign, tortuous and crooked, may boldly say that these fantasies and apparitions be no other than the reflexions and rays of that light which rebound from the good proceedings in philosophy; whereas contrariwise the furious pricks of lust, timorous frights, unmanly and base flights, childish and excessive joys, dolorous sorrows and doleful moans, by reason of some piteous illusions, strange and absurd visions appearing in dreams, may be well compared unto_ the broken waves and billows of the sea beating upon the rocks and craggy banks of the shore; for that the soul having not as yet that settled perfection in itself which should keep it in good order, but holdeth on a course still according to good laws only and sage opinions, from which when it is farthest sequestered and most remote, to wit, in sleep, it sufiereth itself to return again to the old wont and to be let loose and abandoned to her passions: But whether these things may be ascribed unto that profit and amendment whereof we treat, or rather to some other habitude, having now gathered more strength and firm constancy not subject by means of reasons and good instruction to shaking, I leave that to your own consideration and mine together.
But now forasmuch as this total impassibility (if I may so speak) of the mind, to wit, a state so perfect that it is void of all affections, is a great and divine thing; and seeing that this profit and proceeding whereof we write consisteth in a kind of remission and mildness of the said passions, we ought both to consider each of them apart and also compare them one with another, thereby to examine and judge the difference: confer we shall every passion by itself, by observing whether our lusts and desires be more calm and less violent than in former time, by marking likewise our fits of fear and anger, whether they be now abated in comparison of those before, or whether when they be up and inflamed, we can quickly with the help of reason remove or quench that which was wont to set them on work or afire: compare we shall them together, in case we examine ourselves whether we have now a greater portion of grace and shame in us than of fear; whether we find in ourselves emulation and not envy; whether we covet honour rather than worldly goods; and in one word, whether after the manner of musicians we offend rather in the extremity and excess of harmony called Dorian, which is grave, solemn, and devout, than the Lydian, which is light and galliard-like, that is to say, inclining rather in the whole manner of our life to hardness and severity than to effeminate softness; whether in the enterprise of any actions we shew timidity and slackness, rather than temerity and rashness, and last of all, whether we offend rather in admiring too highly the sayings of men and the persons themselves, than in despising and debasing them too low: for like as we say in physic it is a good sign of health when diseases are not diverted and translated into the noble members and principal parts of the body; even so it seemeth that when the vices of such as are in the way of reformation and amendment of life change into passions that are more mild and moderate, it is a good beginning of ridding them away clean by little and little.
The Lacedaemonian Ephori, which were the high controllers of that whole state, demanded of the musician Phrynis, when he had set up two strings more to his seven-stringed instrument, whether he would have them to cut in sunder the trebles or the bases, the highest or the lowest? But as for us, we had need to have our affections cut both above and beneath, if we desire to reduce our actions to a mean and mediocrity. And surely this progress or proceeding of ours to perfection, professeth rather to let down the lightest first, to cut off the extremity of passions in excess, and to abate the acrimony of affections before we do anything else, in which, as saith Sophocles:
Folk foolish and incontinent,
Most furious be and violent.
As for this one point, namely, that we ought to transfer our judgment to action, and not to suffer our words to remain bare and naked words still in the air, but reduce them to effect, we have already said, that is the chief property belonging to our progress and going forward: now the principal arguments and signs thereof be these; if we have a zeal and fervent affection to imitate those things which we praise; if we be forward and ready to execute that which we so much admire, and contrariwise will not admit nor abide to hear of such things as we in our opinion dispraise and condemn.
Probable it is and standeth with great likelihood that the Athenians all in general praised and highly esteemed the valour and prowess of Miltiades; but when Themistocles said that the victory and trophy of Miltiades would not give him leave to sleep, but awakened him in the night, plain it is and evident that he not only praised and admired, but had a desire also to imitate him, and do as much himself; semblably, we are to make this reckoning, that our progress and proceeding in virtue is but small when it reacheth no farther than to praise only and have in admiration that which good men have worthily done, without any motion and inclination of our will to imitate the same and effect the like. For neither is the carnal love of the body effectual, unless some little jealousy be mixed withal, nor the praise of virtue fervent and active which doth not touch the quick, and prick the heart with an ardent zeal instead of envy, unto good and commendable things, and the same desirous to perform and accomplish the same fully. For it is not sufficient that the heart should be turned upside down only, as Alcibiades was wont to say, by the words and precepts of the philosopher reading out of his chair, even until the tears gush out of the eyes: but he that truly doth profit and go forward, ought by comparing himself with the works and actions of good men, and those that be perfectly virtuous, to feel withal in his own heart, as well a displeasure with himself and a grief in conscience for that wherein he is short and defective, as also a joy and contentment in his spirit upon a hope and desire to be equal unto them, as being full of an affection and motion that never resteth and lieth still, but resembleth for all the world (according to the similitude of Simonides):
The sucking foal that keeps just pace,
And runs with dam in every place,
affecting and desiring nothing more than to be wholly united and concorporate with a good man by imitation. For surely this is the passion peculiar and proper unto him that truly taketh profit by the study of philosophy; To love and cherish tenderly the disposition and conditions of him whose deeds he doth imitate and desire to express, with a certain goodwill to render always in words due honour unto them for their virtue, and to assay how to fashion and conform himself like unto them. But in whomsoever there is instilled or infused (I wot not what) contentious humour, envy, and contestation against such as be his betters, let him know that all this proceedeth from an heart exulcerated with jealousy for some authority, might and reputation, and not upon any love, honour, or admiration of their virtues.
Now, whenas we begin to love good men in such sort that (as Plato saith) we esteem not only the man himself happy who is temperate; or those blessed who be the ordinary hearers of such excellent discourses which daily come out of his mouth; but also that we do affect and admire his countenance, his port, his gait, the cast and regard of his eye, his smile and manner of laughter, insomuch as we are willing, as one would say, to be joined, soldered, and glued unto him; then we may be assured certainly that we profit in virtue; yea, and so much the rather, if we have in admiration good and virtuous men, not only in their prosperity, but also (like as amorous folk are well enough pleased with the lisping or stammering tongue; yea, and do like the pale colour of these whom for the flower of their youth and beauty they love and think it beseemeth them, as we read of Lady Panthea, who by her tears and sad silence, all heavy, afflicted and blubbered as she was, for the dolour and sorrow that she took for the death of her husband, seized Araspes so as he was enamoured upon her) in their adversity, so as we neither start back for fear, nor dread the banishment of Aristides, the imprisonment of Anaxagoras, the poverty of Socrates, or the condemnation of Phocion, but repute their virtue desirable, lovely and amiable, even with all these calamities, and run directly toward her for to kiss and embrace her by our imitation, having always in our mouth at every one of these cross accidents this notable speech of Euripides:
Oh, how each thing doth well become
Such generous hearts both all and some!
For we are never to fear or doubt that any good or honest thing shall ever be able to avert from virtue this heavenly inspiration and divine instinct of affection, which not only is not grieved and troubled at those things which seem unto men most full of misery and calamity, but also admireth and desireth to imitate them. Hereupon also it followeth by good consequence, that they who have once received so deep an impression in their hearts, take this course with themselves: That when they begin any enterprise, or enter into the administration of government, or when any sinister accident is presented unto them, they set before their eyes the examples of those who either presently are or heretofore have been worthy persons, discoursing in this manner: What is it that Plato would have done in this case? what would have Epaminondas said to this? how would Lycurgus or Agesilaus have behaved themselves herein? After this sort (I say) will they labour to frame, compose, reform, and adorn their manners as it were before a mirror or looking-glass, to wit, in correcting any unseemly speech that they have let fall, or repressing any passion that hath risen in them. They that have learned the names of the demigods called Idsei Dactyli, know how to use them as counter-charms or preservatives against sudden frights, pronouncing the same one after another readily and ceremoniously; but the remembrance and thinking upon great and worthy men represented suddenly unto those who are in the way of perfection, and taking hold of them in all passions and perplexions which shall encounter them, holdeth them up, and keepeth them upright, that they cannot fall; and therefore this also may go for one argument and token of proceeding in virtue.
Over and besides, not to be so much troubled with any occurrent, nor to blush exceedingly for shame as beforetime, nor to seek to hide or otherwise to alter our countenance or anything else about us, upon the sudden coming in place of a great or sage personage unexpected, but to persist resolute, to go directly toward him with bare and open face, are tokens that a man feeleth his conscience settled and assured. Thus Alexander the Great, seeing a messenger running toward him apace with a pleasant and smiling countenance, and stretching forth his hand afar off to him: How now, good fellow (quoth he), what good news canst thou bring me more, unless it be tidings that Homer is risen again? esteeming in truth that his worthy acts and noble deeds already achieved wanted nothing else, nor could be made greater than they were, but only by being consecrated unto immortality by the writings of some noble spirit; even so a young man that groweth better and better every day, and hath reformed his manners, loving nothing more than to make himself known what he is unto men of worth and honour; to shew unto them his whole house and the order thereof, his table, his wife and children, his studies and intents; to acquaint them with his sayings and writings; insomuch as otherwhiles he is grieved in his heart to think and remember, either that his father natural that begat him, or his master that taught him, are departed out of this life, for that they be not alive to see in what good estate he is in and to joy thereat; neither would he wish or pray to the gods for anything so much as that they might revive and come again above ground, for to be spectators and eye-witnesses of his life and all his actions.
Contrariwise, those that have neglected themselves and not endeavoured to do well, but are corrupt in their manners, cannot without fear and trembling abide to see those that belong unto them, no, nor so much as to dream of them. Add moreover, if you please, unto that which hath been already said, thus much also for a good token of progress in virtue: When I man thinketh no sin or trespass small, but is very careful and wary to avoid and shun them all. For like as they who despair over to be rich make no account at all of saving a little expense;
for thus they think: That the sparing of a small matter can add no great thing unto their stock, to heap it up; but contrariwise, hope when a man sees that he wanteth but a little of the mark which he shooteth at, causeth that the nearer he Cometh thereto, his covetousness is the more; even so it is in those matters that pertain to virtue: he who giveth not place much, nor proceedeth to these speeches: Well, and what shall we have after this? Be it so now: It will be better again for it another time: and such-like: but always taketh heed to himself in everything; and whensoever vice insinuating itself into the least sin and fault that is, seemeth to pretend and suggest some colourable excuses for to crave pardon, is much discontented and displeased; he (I say) giveth hereby good evidence and proof that he hath a house within clean and neat, and that he would not endure the least impurity and ordure in the world to defile the same: For (as Æschylus saith) an opinion conceived once, that nothing that we have is great and to be esteemed and reckoned of, causeth us to be careless and negligent in small matters. They that make a palisado, a rampier or rough mud wall, care not much to put into their work any wood that cometh next hand, neither is it greatly material to take thereto any rubbish or stone that they can meet with, or first cometh into their eye, yea, and if it were a pillar fallen from a monument or sepulchre; semblably do wicked and lewd folk, who gather, thrumble, and heap up together all sorts of gain, all actions that be in their way, it makes no matter what; but such as profit in virtue, who are already planted, and whose golden foundation of a good life is laid (as it were) for some sacred temple or royal palace, will not take hand over head any stuff to build thereupon, neither will they work by aim, but everything, shall be couched, laid, and ranged by line and level, that is to say, by the square and rule of reason: which is the cause (as we think) that Polycletus, the famous imager, was wont to say: That the hardest piece of all the work remained then to do, when the clay and the nail met together; signifying thus much: that the chief point of cunning and perfection was in the upshoot and end of all.