The First Conversation.

THE Mareschal Clerambault is that which men call a compleat Gentleman; one that throughly understands the World. He hath divided his time betwixt the Court and the Army, and there are not many that [Page 2]exceed him, for that natural Wit which renders a man both accomplished and com­plasant. Though he has some impediment in his speech, yet his expression is orderly and graceful; and he had rather speak than hear, whether it be that he seldom meets with satisfaction from the discour­ses of others, or that he is pleased (as men believe) to make himself admired.

He hath been now above two years in­disposed, and neither Physicians, who have in great numbers visited him, nor the Wa­ters of Bourbon have been able to cure his Distemper. It is a decay that hath not at all seized his mind; which was never more lively, clear, nor (I may say) more brisk and gay: he went with his Lady for some time to breath a little (as they call it) of his Native Air. But it rarely hap­pens that a Courtier that falls Sick at Court finds himself better at his Countrey House. His Lady took her Journey back for Paris, and the Mareschal came to P... where now for six or seven Months he hath spent his time.

Where ever he is, he studies his diver­tisement, but more to render himself a­greeable in Conversation: and as there is no advantage so small, which tends not to account in the Hands of a man of parts; [Page 3]the Mareschal so improves the least occa­sions of Recreation, that he meets every­where enough to pass his time with plea­sure.

Finding himself one day much better than ordinary, he invited some Ladies to Dine with him at his House; the Dinner was none of those Feasts, where for most part men find nothing to their relish; but a choice and delicate entertainment, even such as heart could wish. Ladies com­monly make not long meals, whether it be that they love not such kinds of excess, or that they mistrust that they may not be able there to preserve I know not what punctilio's of Modesty, which beget respect and esteem. So soon as the Company had left the Table, they betook themselves to their several Recreations, some to Play, and others to look on: the Mareschal who made but a Spectator, after his ordinary manner, delighted the Company with witty discourses; but Play being of it self a suf­ficient employment, and loosers not always delighted with good words, he would not say too much, and to avoid the occasion which tempts even the most reserved, he drew aside the Chevalier, and going into another Chamber; you may easily imagine (said he) that I am very glad to see you; [Page 4]I must tell you farther, your Company lessens my ilness. And to speak the truth having now tried a great many Medicines to cure me of a distemper which Melan­choly could do no good upon, I am resolved for the future to use no other but Chear­fulness and Mirth.

The Chevalier who had no other thoughts but how to divert him, asked him what kind of Divertisement he was pleased to follow? I had rather (answered the Ma­reschal) spend with you some time in Con­ference, than with these Ladies at Play. For we discourse of certain matters which are not to be learned in the crowd and commerce of the World. I have never more passionately desire any thing than to have a little less ignorance; and when I enjoy you in private methinks I shake it of without study or tedious instruction. I receive deep impression from the smallest things which you tell me of Socrates, and I hope that one of these days I may come to cite the divine Plato too, after the man­ner of a certain Lady, that has a good Wit, and is much pleased to talk of every thing.

Wit, (replied the Chevalier) is always a Staple Commodity, and in my judgment Women themselves cannot have too much [Page 5]of it; but there are many People that would not have them be knowing neither: or at least that it should so much appear. And may not this be the same Lady that gave you that Idea of those whom so plea­singly you imitated the other day? I ne­ver saw any thing better represented, or that better suted my humour: and to speak truth, it is not enough to have Wit, unless a man have good Nature too and Breeding, to come off well in such a case.

I agree with you (said the Mareschal) that among Persons of good Judgment one cannot be too well accomplished to hit that knack of pleasing which is to be desired. Yet because most part of People have not the Understanding so fine and delicate, it many times happens, that they are tickled and even charmed with a kind of moods and pieces that are played them, whereof Persons of breeding would not willingly be the Actors. You know very well that there are a great many Persons that have a way of pleasing, who notwithstanding cannot gain Love, nor that men should interest themselves in their concerns. I think no body should covet such complasantship, but when one as a Gentleman and Person of Breeding does please, he fails not to win [Page 6]the Heart and Affections, and it is in that way alone that I should be bery glad to learn the Art.

One cannot be too Witty in a brisk and lively company; yet one should have a special care not to appear always bent to break Jests, or to quibble; there is some­what free and unforced that produceth far better effects; nor would I be too reser­ved, nor too much affect to be of the small number. When a Person has reached to a certain pitch of Merit, the open and civil way hath great charms to insinuate Love. For what advantage soever a man may have, he must notwithstanding comply if he intend to please People.

I have observed some certain Drolle­ries and Conceits which though current and in vogue, yet procure no great Ho­nour to such as make use of them: some laugh at them rather in derision than de­light, or otherwise take no notice of them at all. They laugh at them, (replied the Chevalier) as that AEgyptian Queen smiled at the Complements and Courtship of An­thony. How? answered the Mareschal, of Anthony that was one of Caesar's Generals, and who disputed so long the Empire with Augustus? Good God the jolly AEgyptian! and what had she to say against him?

The Chevalier having told him that it might have perhaps been some blunt escape of a man that hath alwayes carried Arms: I perceive well, replied the Mare­schal, that even in that time there have been pretending she wits, and I took it for an invention of our days. You like not well then said the Chevalier, that that Princess was so difficult, and that there was so much Conduct and Wit required to get into her favour, and yet I imagin that of all men living you have the least reason to find fault with it; being perswaded that it would be good for you, if in all Courts where you might be, there were such nice and delicate Queens; and I am even of the mind that this alone should make you love her. For when a man humours ill the things he says, or sets upon the performatce of them amiss; do you not see that a little slight or aversion does well with Ladies, especially when we do but guess at it?

I am of your mind, said the Mareschal, but a certain affected nicety that can away with nothing but what one has been ac­customed and bred to, and rigorously re­jects all that is not rich, and of the newest fashion, seems to me the defect of a low Spirit and stinted Soul: but to return to the [Page 8]Queen that was so ill to be pleased, is it not unjust to have a man that has been born amongst Armies never show any thing of a Souldier, but when he faces his Ene­mies? Is it possible that a man can have spent his life in an Army, and that no body should perceive or take notice of it?

It is not to be contradicted, answered the Chevalier, that War is the noblest trade in the World; but if we give every thing it's due, a Gentleman hath no trade. For though he may be perfectly skilful in some affairs, and even obliged to spend his life in the management of it; yet me­thinks neither the manner of his carriage, nor his conversation speaks any such thing to appearance; the reach of his mind e­stranges him from that, and in all rencoun­ters discovers to him what is most be­coming his person and quality.

How lovely an Idea do you give me! cried the Mareschal, and what pleasure do I take to represent to my self our young Prince with such a frame of Spi­rit. We cannot choose a more noble Sub­ject for our entertainment; and as you well know, few dayes pass, wherein I do not speak of him. I remember where you and I left when we were last Interrupted. [Page 9]I then asked you if you were not of the opinion that he should learn the Language of the ancient Romans; the tongue of so many brave men, and of so great a num­ber of Emperours.

Besides that, of it's self it is a lovely Language, replied the Chevalier, we reap a great advantage from the knowledg of it, for the fine things we see represented therein, in their natural and lively colours, you know very well that when men speak there is always somewhat of life and sense which is so naturally linked to their words, that what dexterity soever a man may have to render it in another tongue, yet it is not in all respects the same: and I am likewise of the mind that the art which men imploy in teaching of it, gives some Introduction and light to all others, and that by the means thereof we speak our own Language better, or at least with more exactness, it being moreover at pre­sent the most publick and universal Lan­guage, the Prince (should he even become the Arbiter of the World) would be glad to understand what so many Nations had to say to him, and to give his Answers without an Interpreter.

Is it an easy matter? answered the Ma­reschal; and may one become skilful in [Page 10]it in a short time? the most necessary part of a Langnage, replied the Chevalier, costs but little, and is always of great value when attained: but the rarities which much depend on him that teacheth, and on those whom we hear speak it well, are more difficult: you know what Perfection is given to things by life touches, and the last hand?

It is likewise my opinion, continued the Chevalier, that the hours of his ten­der Infancy should be rightly distributed, for fear of over-burthening, or putting of him out of conceit with those things which they would have him know, and that they should at first begin with little exercises, such as his age and strength can admit of, to render him nimble and active in body: he would thereby become more health­ful, and of a better constitution: so that even his Divertisements as well as Studies and other lesser employments ought to be in the most convenient manner diversified. And I believe it were good that the times of them should not be too regular: For Pleasure it self which daily presents in an order too equal, easily cloys and becomes a toil.

I imagine that in this tender age, when we may imprint what we please, but not [Page 11]so easily afterward efface it, special care should be taken that the persons that are about him be such who are every way accomplished, whose procedure and pre­sence may not habituate him to any thing which must be forgotten. I would have such measures descend even to the choice of these Masters that are to instruct him in the meanest things. Men will not fail to say that this is a notion: but I am perswaded that in all kinds of exercises whether of Body or Mind, it is to be wished that they who do therein acquit themselves most Gentilely, or who under­stand themselves most best in their way, should bestow on him somewhat which the most part of Masters are not masters of, and that sometimes M. D. T. and M. L. P. himself should entertain him with matters of War, and put him upon the trace of Conque­rours. For I am convinced that whatever may be the birth of any person, he ought to think himself much honoured, in having contributed some thing to a work of this consequence, and that whatsoever the young Prince may learn, cannot proceed from too Noble a Master.

It is reported of Caesar that after so many Battles; having traversed to and fro from Europe to Asia, and from thence into [Page 12] Africa, he lost most of his old Souldiers, and that he was forced to train up a stock of new ones, teaching them how to hold the Buckler, to manage the Sword and Spear; do you not believe that when they learned this from such a Master, the instruction pierced deeper, even though they were not aware of it?

What is said of lovely persons, answered the Mareschal, that all things become them well, may with more reason be said of Persons of Breeding, and I should have been very glad to have seen that great Master of the World play the Fencing-Master. Whatsoever I had observed from so great a man, would have taught me somewhat that I should have been glad to have remembred. And it is very true what you just now said, that there is a kind of People whose Conversation we cannot sufficiently hug; for it is certain that if we see them often upon what oc­casion soever it may be, besides the pro­gress and advances we make in their com­pany, we are seasoned with a sweet odor; as men without minding it, perfume them­selves in walking amongst Jasmins and O­range Trees.

Nothing can be imagined more florid, said the Chevalier, and without flattery, Sir, [Page 13]you possess a great justness and exactitude of expression. I take my flight, replied the Mareschal, when I am upon the Wing; and I doubted that would surprise you. You have not surprized me, said the Chevalier, but to fill me with content; and good thought deserves to be well expressed, and I have not met with any more pleasing.

I am notwithstanding the man of the World, replied the Mareschal, that hunts least after such flourishes of speech: nor do I love all these ways of exactitude; that of sense pleases me always, but com­monly that of words and expression seems to me affected, and if I did desire to be eloquent, it should be in Wit and Thought. A man expresses himself well-enough, when he wants not matter to speak.

Men say as much as they please, an­swered the Chevalier, in what concerns the commerce of the World; we find but too many people who understand that Language, but for some certain mat­ters which come less in view, and are not so easily conceived, we find sometime much difficulty to express them as we would. It is true, to conceive them aright is to be eloquent, what way soever we make our selves understood: They that think well are never too long nor tedious: they search [Page 14]for words only to express their thoughts, and others make it their business rather to speak than to tell their mind.

I observe two sorts of exactitude, which always produce good effects. The one con­sists in the taking up a right of things, and understanding of them as they are in themselves without confounding them to­gether, the least fault that here we com­mit either in speech or action, is known; and this depends on Wit and Understan­ding.

The other exactitude appears in judging the decorum and knowing the measures and bounds how far we should proceed, and when we ought to stop: this, which chief­ly proceeds from humour and opinion seems to me more dubious and difficult.

The exactitude of words is not unplea­sant when it is without affectation, and the words do but very seldom gingle and chime: but I dare assure you we cannot have too much of a certain exactitude and justness of Language, which consists in imploying the aptest wayes of speaking to insinuate our thoughts into the minds of others neither more nor less than we would desire they were.

These kinds of exactitude are always well received, provided we be not to se­vere [Page 15]and rigid to others, and that we have in our thoughts that Roman Lady before whom there was no stumbling; for whilst she urged a brave Gentleman, who was a little intangled in his discourse; he told her that she was in the right, but yet very uneasy to rob him of the pleasure of negligence.

We are a great deal more civil with Ladies now-a-days, said the Mareschal, than they were in those times, and what they say does not in the least choak the men of this World: they may venture at all, and particularly if they be fair. Yet a man of breeding, let his merit be what it will, ought not to have such confidence; but the more he excells others, the more he ought to be upon his Guard, not to im­pose constraint upon them, but to render himself courteous and civil. For all men naturally fear Masters.

I am much taken with those persons who always shew their Wit without the least offence of any, and I mortally hate such who have Wit for no other end but to vex and displease: it is well done to avoid the company of these as much as may be, because such an humour is the product of a proud and evil nature, which sheds it self upon every thing they do, there [Page 16]are others, who are rather senseless than malitious, who for the pleasure of a few good words or a jest let fly at all, with­out considering what may be the conse­quences. What profit can we reap from our Wit, when we know not how to use it to gain love and esteem? We may with­draw if matters go not as we would have them; but when we shew our selves, our demeanour should be such, that they whom we see, should be well satisfied with our company, even though we have no love for their persons. For he that thinks to revenge himself by giving distast, does him­self more hurt, than those whom he dis­pleases.

I know also others who out of a principle of envy are peevish and uneasy, this is the fault that most of all offends me, and which shews as much lowness of heart as shallow­ness of wit. For if we understand aright what life and fortune is, we shall incline rather to bewail than envy those whom the World esteems happy. I have known ob­scure people, and of very ordinary merit, who would be though equal to the chief men of the times, and who could by no means endure the reputation of their bet­ters.

There are others that would willingly [Page 17]indeed be complasant and gain love, but from whom neither honour nor truth, nor the good of those that hear them can ever draw any thing, if they cannot hit the right string and make it turn to their own account: this is not the best side, and I find the World not very fa­vourable to those who only mind their own Interest, but always well affected to­ward such as endeavour-to make persons of merit esteemed.

My Lord Mareschal, said the Chevalier, you are a person of wonderful dexterity; the Question was only of the justness and exactitude of Language, or of some thing of like nature; you have nevertheless by a sweet and almost insensible transition slipt into the commerce of the World, and pleasantly described those who make bad use of their Wit, and who only speak for their own interest: this shews that you have observed the Court, and that you have a just pique against corruption in man­ners.

I shall only add to what you have said, that when we speak, what aim soever we may have, it is indeed necessary that the de­sign of pleasing go along with it; but yet this ought not to be our sole and chief end in discourse. Nature designs only to serve [Page 18]our necessities: and there is nothing in the loveliest body in the World which con­duceth not either to life or motion. Feasting and good Chear take their rise from the necessity of Eating and Drinking. We must have Lodging, and from thence it is that men love fair Houses. For at first men only desire things because they cannot want them, but pleasure comes afterward as the overplus (to use this word) and as a present which does delight the more be­cause unexpected.

I do extreamly approve that men ex­press their thoughts at what rate soever, answered the Mareschal, and I understand very well what you mean. I believe that the best way for a man to render him­self able and knowing, is not to study much, but frequently to discourse of matters which unlock the mind. It were good if I mistake not, to accustom the young Prince to this, and to place some persons about him, who might instruct him after this manner. As for the Ladies that are intrusted to be near him, I see no necessity that there should be so great care taken in choosing of them, and I confess for my own part I should only pitch upon the most airy and brisk, to keep him merry and in good humour. For except but a very small [Page 19]number, the most ingenious of them ap­pear to me but of a short reach, though otherways taking: you know very well that from certain. Features and charms of the Face, and from the stature of Body there can be no consequents drawn as to the endowments of the mind: they who know to distinguish those two are not easi­ly mistaken,

Men will not have Women to be in­genious, said the Chevalier, and I know not why; unless it be perhaps because they are sufficiently praised upon other respects, and that they are beautiful. For People are pleased to cut off on the one side, what they cannot refuse on the other, and if they be forced to acknowledg that a man is very valiant, they will not allow that he is otherways accomplished, though perhaps his valour may be less than those other accomplishments. It seems not to me so rare to see Ladies of good judg­ment, yea I find in them a delicateness of Spirit which is not so common to men. I have even taken notice in many places, and amongst all sorts of conditions, that men perform not ordinarily what they set about with so good Grace, as Women do; and that Women understand themselves better than men, in doing things dexterously [Page 20]and well: whether it be that the advan­tage of giving content is to them more natural, or perceiving that to be their chief concernment, they train themselves there­to from their childhood as to a trade. There are two or three (if I mistake not) who have begun to disabuse the Court of false Gallantry, and if there were nei­ther Glory nor Pleasure to get into the favour and good esteem of Ladies, men would not contrive so many knacks and fetches to give them content. I say more, a man is never compleatly a Gentleman, or at least Gallant and Courtly, but La­dies have had a hand in shaping of him.

I am much obliged to you, said the Mareschal, for putting a difference betwixt the Gentleman and the Gallant, men easily confound them.

It seems to me, said the Chevalier, that the Gallant is the only man in conversa­tion, and that people find in his carriage certain pleasures, which a virtuous Gentle­man cannot always give; whose concealed advantages are notwithstanding greater, al­though he make less shew in the eyes of the World.

There is a great difference between them, replied the Mareschal, this quality of a Gallant which takes amongst young people, [Page 21]vanisheth as a Flower or Dream; and I have seen some of these gallant men be­come the contempt of those very persons, who had before admired them: but if we love a man because he is a person of worth and integrity, we love him always, and in that respect time gains no advantage over him.

I imagine, said the Chevalier, that these Gallants were never in so much esteem, nor the World so much dazled with them; but that there was always some who per­ceived it very well, that all their lustre was but false Gallantry, and I know not what glittering thing, had a quality to surprize; but true Gallantry, among persons who un­derstand it, is always well received; it de­pends but litte on the advantages of bo­dy; nay it happens often that a man whose misshapen person seems the mistake of Na­ture, has yet a better grace than another whose delicate proportion could hardly be flattered by Painting. For it is not e­nough to have so fair an outside to be­come agreeable; the more important ad­vantage consists in ordering aright the head and heart. Neither is a man ever truly Gallant without a good Heart, and a com­petent Wit.

This true Gallantry appears chiefly in [Page 22]that it hath the art of giving a pleasing view to unpleasant matters. For very of­ten that which offends us most, would not at all trouble us if we took it in the right way. I remember there were two Friends who went to visit a Lady; he that was worst received, fancied no way better to gain her Favour than to run down his Friend: the other who perceived it, instead of falling into passion, or so much as com­plaining of the usage; I was very sensible, said he, that you loved me; but never thought you believed me so deserving a person, as to be esteemed of by a Lady of so great merit, and who understands the humours of People so well, this opi­nion of yours is so much to my advan­tage that it can never wrong our Friend­ship.

That appears to me indeed altogether gal­lant, said the Mareschal, and I know not if what was reported to me of a great Princess, be not very much of the same strain. One told her that a very honest but somewhat capri­cious man, found fault with her Conduct. We have, said she, but too many that flatter us; what you acquaint me with of that Gentleman, is rather an advice than re­proach; it is not his fault if I be not a little better, and I am therefore obliged to him.

Nothing could be better said, answered the Chevalier, and that clears to me what I was thinking of. Without doubt that Princess must have been an extraordinary Person. Good God how happy should we be, if so many things which pass in the World, were taken in that sense, I imagine, continued the Chevalier that a Gallant man is nothing else but an honest and virtuous man, a little more sparkling and gay than ordinary, and who hath the dexterity so to demean himself, that every thing be­comes him well: However there is great advantage to be gained from being able to perform both the one and the other, ac­cording as time and season make it con­venient, and I have known persons of worth strangely puzled in the company of Ladies, and who knew not by what Bias to insinuate themselves into their Conver­sation, although they could have told them matters of very good sense.

Of good sense! cried the Mareschal, and who could let it enter into his head to employ it so unseasonably? Ladies in such rencounters are never so grave nor severe, as to mind good sense. They love that gallant address which you know, gentile and delicate ways, a brisk and sparkling Conversation, an agreeable complasance, and [Page 24]the rather, if a little flattering; that dex­terity, and that knack which hath some­what of edg and smartness to heat and give them play, without pinching or putting of them to a plunge; that carriage of the higher ranck that shews it self in all things, that modest assurance, which hath nothing low, nothing malitious, nothing but what speaks a Gentleman.

He that can handsomly acquit himself of all this, may I think do much with Ladies; and it is the surest way to please them; but likewise the most to be feared if we want dexterity and good Grace in ma­naging of it. For we must not forget that the more such things are taking when well performed, the more distaste they breed when uningenuinly done.

To this might be added, said the Che­valier, that few Persons are born to so splendid and sparkling a way of carriage, and though one might succeed in it to per­fection, yet the most part of Women do not too much affect it; at least so much pomp and overdoing would at length cloy them. I perceive that the more witty, are far better pleased with somwhat more remiss and reserved; and ordinarily men mistake the mark with them; because they consider not that they are gained by the [Page 25]same methods, and lost in the same manner as themselves. Men throw their heart at their head, and tell them at first sight more of love than probability will suffer them to believe, and oftentimes more than they de­sire. They give them not leisure enough to wish that men might love them, and to tast a certain sweetness which is not to be found but in the progress of love. This pleasure is to be enjoyed a long time, to beget a love constant and perpetual; for we are not much satisfied to obtain what we have not much desired, and when we obtain it so, we accustom our selves to despise it, and com­monly never more esteem it again. But give your self no trouble concerning Ladies for the young Prince, they will not be wanting when it is time.

As they were thus in discourse, a Messen­ger came to acquaint them that their was a dispute in Game amongst the Ladies, who as I told you were at play in another Cham­ber, and that they prayed them to decide it. That could not happen more pat, said the Mareschal, and our luck is good at the very nick of time, so to have fallen on the subject of Ladies: For if we would desire that none of the Ladies here do grumble, we have need of all that is requisite, to [Page 26]judg their controversie. Let us pay them the civilities of the house; and let that im­ploy us for to day. To morrow I expect you, and shall give order that we may not be interrupted.

THE SECOND CONVERSATION.

THE Court life without doubt, affords more friends and ac­quaintances, than a private, but of so many friends there are but few who are such as they ought to be; and for the most part at Court, men neither know nor are intimately known of any. It is not (as they say) that Courteours have no esteem for any thing, and that In­terest is more their design than the discovery of merit. For humors and tempers are much [Page 28]the same there as in other places, and every where we meet with Interest. But being divided amongst so many, they are formal to all, and give to every one a superficial share according as they value them; and it is commonly neither for love nor intimacy, that men there contract familiarity. The Chevalier, who had seen so much of the Ma­reschal in the world, and knew him suffici­ently to be a very gallant person, did not yet find any great miss of him, then when he had not the opportunity to see him, but having some seven or eight days enjoyed his conversation in retirement, he could not for the future live out of his company.

The Chevalier according to their appoint­ment failed not to come next day, and being there betimes, engaged the Mareschal to spend the morning at play, and prevailed so far that before they left off, they obliged themselves to fall to it again after dinner. Though he took pleasure to hear the Mare­schal discourse, yet he still contrived some invention to take him off from speaking too much. For though he hath no need of too much agitation, yet he grows quickly ea­ger, and contrary to the practice of most of the World, who dive but little into things, is excessive in thinking, and speaks often [Page 29]with so much intention of spirit, and even with so great action as if he were in perfect health.

Their play was only for divertisement; and so ought true friends to use it: For if high playing destroy not friendship, it may at least somewhat alter and shake it.

Having played a long time, the Mareschal spoke of going into a Meadow by the side of a little River, which passeth by the foot of the Town. And because the heat was not yet over, he took a turn in the Cham­ber, and told the Chevalier that he had been thinking of that Aegyptian Queen. Rising this morning, said he, I took pleasure to smile at that man you told me of, I imagined I saw him with her, entertaining her with the Carresses and Courtship that Souldiers use commonly towards Ladies. That which pleased you, said the Chevalier, was that you have nothing to fear when you meet with any so nice. Not too much of that neither, replied the Mareschal, I should have also some touch of the Army, if I did not look to it, and some have done me the favour to acquaint me with it. And indeed to say the truth, I have little learning, and you can­not [Page 30]believe how much that troubles me, but I hope my Children may live to get more than their Masters.

Let it not trouble you so much, said the Chevalier, that you have studied so little, you have lost nothing but a little Latin that you might have learned. That is a great deal, replied the Mareschal, if there were nothing else. But should not I also have learned the Sciences, whereof my friend X. makes so great esteem? And as he enlarged himself upon the Conferences that he had held with his Friend; you speak not, said the Chevalier, like a man without Reading; what I hear from you is enough to make you admired: and to speak truth, for a Souldier and great Courtier you are much of a Scholar. The Mareschal fell a laughing, and told him that he knew nothing of Scien­ces but the name. The Masters, replied the Chevalier, know not a tittle more. You might have been taught all in the ordinary manner, with the loss of much time and with great trouble, and have never been more accomplished or knowing, unless per­haps that you might have thereby unde­ceived your self of the false opinion of them.

What you say, answered the Mareschal after a little pause, is not without probabi­lity; and you make me reflect how that I have spent whole days with that man, to hear him discourse of Sciences. I frankly confess that it happened frequently that I understood him not in the least, and the more he laboured to explain himself, the less intelligible still I found him. To judg of Philosophy by the notion which he gave me of it, it seemed to me a kind of night, and I once asked him if obscurity and dark­ness were not essential to it? this is a brave beginning indeed, said he to me, I have known some of longer standing that could not have said so much to purpose. But that I may conceal nothing from you, men never understand aright all this, unless they be trained to it from their youth.

Men understand it not the better, said the Chevalier, for having tampered with it from their Childhood, but are only less surprised with its obscurity. These blades are accu­stomed from their infancy to speak of every thing without the distinct knowledge of any thing. What they say never appears to them obscure or confused, and the most part fancy that they are very well understood, though it be impossible to untwist their thoughts.

How comes it to pass then, replied the Mareschal, that men profit nothing by the instructions which the Ancients, and since their times, so many other great men have given us? I would tell you what I think, answered the Chevalier, did I not fear to trouble you, for the subject is not very pleasing. And besides, methinks men should find enough to do to put in practice what they know, without medling to prove it, or to teach it to others: and particularly I who know but very little, why should I undertake to advise? I have slept well last night, said the Mareschal, and we have di­ned so pleasingly, that no subject can come amiss to me to day, and therefore I defie you to trouble me. Besides, there is no­thing so dull which by dexterity and wit may not be briskly set off, and I know you have enough to spare. My Lord Mareschal, said the Chevalier, you are pleased to divert your self. I speak of you, replied the Ma­reschal, as I would speak of my self, I desire to be without vanity and flattery, and I find persons of breeding altogether free from both. And though there are occasions where one may flatter with good grace, yet vanity is always misbecoming, so that I per­ceive that men ordinarily slight even the ad­vantages and what else is good in vain per­sons. [Page 33]sons. It is well done to hide it, but much better (if possible) to abandon it. For what care soever one may have to conceal it, there is still somewhat offensive that insensi­bly springs from that stock.

I must tell you notwithstanding of this blemish which I fear so much, that though the hurry of the world, and some little am­bition have taken me off from a speculative life, yet I am wonderfully in love with a certain keen and neat vivacity of spirit that offers at every thing with good grace. Some have thought that I had a little spark of this. However, there is nothing whatso­ever men esteem and admire which affects me like that. I must disclose to you the very secrets of my heart, I am not much wedded to life, and I know how I ought to consider this world; yet let one be never so much disengaged, if he have Children, his care and thoughts bend often towards them. I have some to whom nature is not want­ing, and am perswaded that our discourses may be useful. This it is that makes me speak of so many subjects. And to return again to the question that I proposed to you, how can it be that men reap so little benefit from the Sciences, which have been left us by the learned Grecians? you have [Page 34]often entertained me with Greece, and the smallest hints that you have given me of it, have exceedingly pleased me. I should be very glad if to day you would take the pains to guide me through these places of so much fame, and observe to me on our way what there you may find most conside­rable. Having said so, he took a chair and made the Chevalier sit down, who thus began to speak.

Since it is your pleasure, I must tell you that Greece hath been the most agreeable place of abode that could be imagined. The Air of the Countrey is thin and pure, but so temperate, that seldom either winter or summer incommode it. All that was to be desired to make a happy life was there in plenty to be found. Men were born there with a disposition to all kinds of exercises, and art easily perfected what nature had so well begun. The Athenian Ladies were naturally gallant, and for most part rather brown than fair: men found in them some­what of edge and life that was pleasing. And as in a dark and still night there are often seen flashings of lightning, so though their manner of saying of things was plain and re­served, yet in that still there appeared some eradiations of wit. It is also reported that [Page 35]the tone of their voice was so charming, that there needed no more but that alone to fill their hearers with pleasure. But besides that that Language was delicate and pure, you cannot conceive how many fine things were said in it; for there were some who besides the dexterity of body, invented o­ther pleasing knacks. And in no place of the world was the way of taking or making of love better understood than there.

That Countrey had the genius of invent­ing and perfecting of Arts. Painting was to be seen there in a manner accomplished, full of wit and fancy. They had always in it somewhat of invention, that did indeed sur­prise, but more delight the beholders. What hath not been said of the Picture of the Sa­crifice of Iphigenia which none could look on without tears? and of that piece of Rox­ilana and Alexander, where with chains of Mirtle and Roses love took hold of that con­queror and led him captive to the feet of his prisoner? so strange an adventure held at first mens minds in admiration; but this prisoner appearing with so excellent and sur­prising beauty, the least glance that was cast upon it banished all astonishment at her con­quest. There are at this day some of their Sculptures to be seen that speaks somewhat [Page 36]above human reach. And that Reason alone, if nothing else, might have excused the Na­tions of these times for having adored them.

In Musick they had so great skill, that by adjusting and diversifying of certain sounds they could touch and affect the heart at their pleasure. Have you never heard how Alexander, amidst the delights of a great Feast, where nothing but mirth was intend­ed, was so charmed and transported with the Musick, that he ran to his Arms, as if he had seen the enemy? for it had a kind of violence and inchanting, the secret whereof hath not descended to us, at least that which was more rare in it, is now alto­gether lost.

Their Eloquence speaks loud enough, though we speak nothing of it, and indeed who can sufficiently tell what it was, but he that can speak with the same? did not so many lovely verses that appeared in their natural dress, make the world believe that it was the Language of the Gods, and that men spake in Greece as the Gods speak in Heaven? In a word, from this happy Coun­try have streamed out into all places the Li­beral Sciences, and the Romans themselves [Page 37]who have since made a great noise in the world, have only excelled in so many things, by imitating what the Grecians had invented for them.

Being sober and discreet-people, they were naturally much addicted to a quiet and peaceable life, but for all that still very fit for War. There were always to be found amongst them Souldiers and Generals, who knew how to fight, and how to command. And that same Alexander trained up in the Discipline of the Grecians, with a little mo­ney and small Army had so great a heart, as to attacque the richest and greatest King of the World, and to give him twice an over­throw, when in open battel he was en­compassed with five or six hundred thousand men.

This young Conqueror who every where pursued glory, had a Master no less ambiti­ous in his own way; and if the Scholar rendered himself Master of the World, we may likewise say that the Master what by his parts, and what by the favour of his Prince, obtained the supremacy in Sciences. He had such parts as are necessary to make a man accomplished in Society and the concerns of life; but in some other more hidden know­ledges [Page 38]he advanced not so far as some that went before him.

These were men that placed happiness in knowledge, and yet confest that they scarce­ly knew any thing. Honest and plain deal­ing persons, who dubiously handled doubt­ful matters: and of such things as may be clearly conceived, though of highest specu­lation discoursed in a way that favoured nei­ther of art nor study, and yet so natural and plain, that there needed no more but natural wit at first to understand them. But he whose design was not so much to know, as to gain the reputation of knowledge, well perceiving that they had the better of him, and that the true judges of Parts and Sciences would never allow him the pre-eminence. And being perswaded that a certain small number of persons, who are dazled with nothing, and see into the na­ture and usefulness of things, would not be favourable to him, he betook himself to win those who were not so sharp-sighted, and to gain the applause and admiration of the multitude.

For this purpose, knowing well what kind of persons he had to do with, and what would take with them, he resolved to be [Page 39]positive, to decide absolutely like a Law­giver, and to hint that to be his Scholar was enough to make one Learned. He borrowed inventions from those that were unknown, and scoffed at others who were in vogue.

Some there are who say that the founda­tion of his building is not very sure, and that he lays down principles not only ob­scure and doubtful, but likewise so false, and far from probability, that with a very ordinary judgment one may see the error. However it be, I wish that so great a man had a little more naturalized Art and Rules; for it seems to me that the ordinary things which the most silly and ignorant understand when delivered in a natural way, do puzle even the most ingenious in a rugged and thorny method, and I know not what too much studied and affected which appears all along in every thing that we see of his.

What he hath said well and is intelligible, may have probably been the cause that men esteem all the rest where nothing is un­derstood. For he hath said good things, and (which seems to me very strange) they are slighted because understood. Men are per­swaded [Page 40]that the best are always obscure. So that they are so far from following what is clear and good sense, and shaping and mo­delling themselves by the ingenious and learned Greece, that they search for nothing but false subtileties, and chimerical distincti­ons. A Master teacheth a Language which he understands not himself, and which he holds of another, who understood it no bet­ter. Hence it is that a young man after ten or twelve years study knows still nothing, and they who all their life-times apply themselves to that doctrine, gain no more but greater ignorance, they are found to be so far out of the rode, that they are not thought worth the speaking to. For the spirit that is naturally of the best frame, takes from it wrong biasses, and as soon as one begins to eye things on that side, he sees them no more aright. It is my obser­vation also, that when one seriously says that any one of that order is learned, most commonly he is mistaken, and that all that such a one hath, is but I know not what counterfeit yet polished thing, which gives but greater distaste.

As to Euclide and Archimedes, of whom we have sometimes discoursed, such as are desirous to perfect themselves in their Sci­ence, [Page 41]make always good progress, what it teacheth is as it were past all doubt; and would to God that we could as certainly learn all that we de­sire to know. It is good to understand the genius of that Science, by reason of some dexterity and exactitude that it can give us, but we must not engage in it too far, it wheadles us out of the commerce of life, renders us too spe­culative, and to find out what we seek, and even to make it understood, we must advance by long demonstrations from line to line, or from figure to fi­gure, and when we have found it, we acknowledge for most part that we might have very well spared our pains, and besides that that method is toyl­some, and that it hath never been the stile of any Court in the World; it seems to me that whatsoever men say that is ingenious, great, and necessa­ry leaps into view if it be well ex­prest.

As the Chevalier had done speaking, the Mareschal who had attentively heard, asked him if that spruce and re­gular master who marches always in order at the head of Doctors, had [Page 42]taught that sparkling young Prince such dull and dark Sciences? there are knowledges, replied the Chevalier, which seem more curious than necessa­ry, and I do not think that that man who knew well what it is that places excellent Princes above the ordinary, did much burden him with these. He designed to make a Heroe of this young Prince, as indeed he did, and formed him upon the mould of Homer's. It is true, that whilst he instructed him in what concerned him most, he omitted not to discover to him the sublimest things he knew. I am incli­ned to say so, because having published some Books of that nature; Alex­ander wrote to him a Letter, which sufficiently testifies the displeasure that he conceived thereupon. Hath that Letter, said the Mareschal, been pre­served to our times? I should be glad to see if that Prince had in that also the same genius that made him admi­red in all other things, and if great men be always great even in their least actions. You may judge of the Letter, said the Chevalier, for I re­member it, because it is not long, and here it is word for word.

There is the Note, said the Che­valier, and do not you wonder that Alexander in the midst of his glory and heat of Ambition should have wrote so? Must not he have had a vast heart and great soul to mind such things, whereof ordinary conquerors make so little esteem? strange kind of man! said the Mareschal, he aspired to the Supremacy in all things; and who can think after this that: it was Fortune alone that rendered him so powerful, and that Merit had not the greatest hand in his advancement?

But to return again to Sciences, I very well conceive that that able Tu­tor drove at that which was of greatest concern. Only I think that a great Prince, and one who is to govern the World, cannot know too many things. I am of your mind, said the Cheva­lier, but there is a vast difference be­tween being instructed like an Artist who would excel in his trade, and being informed of objects that present with­out farther design than of knowing what they are, and avoiding of mi­stake. This last knowledge though [Page 45]very lovely and useful costs but little when we meet with those▪ who hit the mark. What I think chiefly to be desired in a King, is that he have parts and vertue: in my judgment one can­not be too accomplished in either of these.

It is likewise true that how happy soever one may be, and what advan­tage of body or mind soever he may have; he must essay to be an able and knowing man; and if it be possi­ble begin with that, without which the rest go but ill; yea it happens often that men turn their best ad­vantages to their own ruin. Not­withstanding they do well to conceal their talents, because the generality of people have not naturally much affection for those who have too much prudence, but are more favou­rable to such as seek adventures and hazard all. Thence it is that so many and especially Ladies, esteem not Caesar so much as Alexander.

This talent of skill and ability, is a certain dexterity, and somewhat of a particular genius, that consists in the [Page 46]making good use of what we know and can perform; but when men know nothing and can do as little, that genius stands them in no stead. To have then opportunity of imploy­ing it, one must gain credit and in­struct himself in such matters as he may stand in need of. They who have such a kind of spirit love migh­tily to set themselves off, and catch their advantages. But they give them­selves no great trouble to compleat themselves in any thing: besides, the bustle of the world takes them off from applying themselves to any one particular thing. So that the most in­genious persons excel not in all things.

I am of opinion, said the Mareschal, that a Prince should apply himself to History; it discovers to us so many things that one may thereby improve himself and become knowing, at least in what concerns Society. It is true, said the Chevalier, that History is of great use if it were only to perswade what we intend by examples, when the reasons we have to say are but weak, or good ones cannot be heard. [Page 47]But seeing successes are different, though conjunctures be much alike; it is hard to ground any solidity on them, and I am apt to believe that one might be ingenious and knowing without the aid of History. Before ever there was any sign or trace of it, could not men in the beginning know good and evil?

Moreover all things possible that one can imagine, are like so many Histo­ries, if not of the past or present, at least of the time to come: For in that infinite space of time, and of the world, all that may come to pass finds its sea­son and place.

Nevertheless as History is a kind of experience, it is certain we may pro­fit much by it: and the rather because there are some so well done, that though we know the matter, yet we take pleasure to read the relation. Kings do well to learn such, yea even to inform themselves of emergents that happen in their own times, that they may have in their eye what might be done on such occasions, and not lose the opportunities of action. Care should be chiefly taken with the young [Page 48]Prince to make him consider that Kings and Emperors who have been vertuous, besides the glory that thereby they have purchased, have also led a happy and pleasing life.

But the best time for a walk passeth away, and you and I think to take two or three turns upon the side of the Ri­ver. Let us go said the Mareschal; I had never thought of it if you had not minded me.

The third Conversation.

THe Chevalier came pretty early to the Mareschal's Lodgings, who was going abroad, because the morning was still and temperate, and neither too cleer nor too gloo­my. The Mareschal was all-alone in his Chamber, leaning upon a window that look'd into the Garden; and seeing the Chevalier come in, told him with a cheerful counte­nance, That he was much obliged to him, in that he did not forsake his Friends in their necessities: That he was minded to take the Air by reason of the fair weather; and that he should be glad to take a walk in so good Company. The Chevalier made answer, That he was extremely troubled that the Company was not better. I make no que­stion, reply'd the Mareschal smiling, because the greatest concern is yours: it is indeed to be wished that one were of agreeable Con­versation, though it were only to entertain himself: for we are sometimes alone; and when our thoughts then trouble us, we cannot banish them at our pleasure. That is but too often my case, said the Chevalier; and at this [Page 50]very instant that I am speaking, I am very glad to be with you, because I finde that if I were alone, I should not be much satisfied with any thing that comes into my thoughts. You tell me, replied the Mareschal, no glad tidings; for seeing men have commonly some love for themselves, they are very easily flat­tered with it: but when one has no content­ment in his own thoughts, what likelyhood is there that others should, who most commonly let nothing slip? yet I will not be so severe: And going towards the Garden, Come on, said he, speaking still in a chearful manner, we must not give w [...]y to Melancholy; stirring a little revives Vigour and Spirits: However, if the walk wearies us, we shall finde, where we are going, a place to repose in.

There were in that Garden Orange-trees in their full blossom, which delighted both their smell and sight; and there they made some turns in an Alley, discoursing on several subj [...]cts. Afterward sitting down under the Orange-trees, Let us now enjoy retirement, said the Mareschal; let us taste of the quiet that it affords us, and entertain our selves in liberty. It seems to me, said the Chevalier, that one lives more in two days of freedom and leisure, and perceives better what life is, than in two years of business and the hurry of affairs: And in my judgement also one sees [Page 51]greater matters in solitude than in the world, or at least there he better considers them: For what do we see in the world that is great, unless it be perhaps an Army, the Siege of a Town, or the Court of a Prince? All these become quickly familiar to us, and appear on­ly great at our first view; but if we observe the various works of Nature, the setting of the Sun, a still Night, and the Stars that with so much majesty move over our heads, we are always surpriz'd with wonders. They who on­ly minde their fortune, are busied with a little artificial world, which they know very well; but the great world of Nature is to them un­known.

It is, notwithstanding, this little world, replied the Mareschal, that makes great men, or, to say better, that makes them conspicu­ous: for such as converse not in it, let their merit be what it will, die, and are not so much as known to have lived. Besides, this you must consider, that there are some cer­tain Princes whom one would willingly see again, though he had never so lately seen them; and whom the most delightful solitude cannot bring into Oblivion. That kinde of life is to me a Charm; thitherward do I al­ways direct my Prospect: And that I may not loose sight of one young Prince, I ask you at first, if you think he should be so delicately [Page 52]and with all that fondness and care which is commonly used in the Education of persons so tenderly beloved?

I am of the minde, answered the Chevalier, that in this there should be great regard had to his Constitution. However, I had rather that it were in a way somewhat hard, than too delicate, provided that it might be with­out danger. Men are so much for securing the present, said the Mareschal, that they ha­zard the future. I have known many undone by too much delicateness: They were so brought up, that they could not suffer the least hardship or irregularity. They went to bed and rose constantly at the same hour; and you know the world does not allow men to be brought up after that manner: So when it happened that they behoved to change their course of life, they could not so much as two months breath the air of an Army, but that they died, or became dangerously sick; when on the other hand, they who betimes had ac­customed themselves to every thing, enjoyed their health there as elsewhere, and sometimes better.

I believe, said the Chevalier, that one can hardly ever shake off the inconveniencies of a breeding so delicate, and that even the minde and heart may feel the effects of it. And I also think, that it were good if the Prince [Page 53]could sometimes dispence with all which is termed Pomp and Magnificence, and finde that there is nothing useless and superfluous which grows not necessary by habit and cu­stom it is not that we must listen to those who murmur so much against Plenty, and who can­not endure gilding nor rich Furniture. The most part of such know not what they would say, and others think to gain esteem by under­valuing what themselves want.

It is well enough known that painted See­lings and Hangings set off with gold, ease not pain or grief: that men are less subject to vapours when they see only the verdures of the Fields; and that stately and magnifi­cent Beds make not the nights seem shorter. We know very well that these Riches signi­fie but little, and that they may even prove hurtful: Yet the evil is not in having of them, but in believing our selves to be better men for the enjoyment, and thinking worse of our selves when we want them. Vertue and Honesty do far surpass these things; and though one should be stript of all, and expo­sed to great sufferings, he should not the­fore think himself more dishonourd, than for being sick, or of a tender constitution.

You are in the right, said the Mareschal, and I think that now and then some easie attempts might be made with our Prince to give [Page 54]him the knowledge, or at least the apprehen­sion of some things, with which children do not usually entertain themselves, and which surpass their ordinary capacity: For though a childe at first understands not what is said to him, in its full extent, yet that prepares him at some time or other to conceive it. These are like the little Essays of Reason that never come all together.

I would not have him troubled with vain and airy, nor too high and far-fetcht subjects. That which is said out of purpose, or is brought from afar, effects but very little, and only leaves confused impressions. The least occasion that presents is sufficient, to speak something that hits the point, and is pleasing: for I think it also of consequence, that endea­vours should be used to breed him and form his spirit in a pleasing and taking way. The pleasure that one takes in hearing and behold­ing, makes him likewise delight to be instru­cted; and if those who are to be about this Prince, have in their words and actions good grace, he will therefrom retain at least the way of demeanure, and of expressing himself. That agreeable manner of communication, if you consider it, is a matter of no small im­portance. It is extremely advantageous, said the Chevalier, and as you have hinted the su­rest way to attain to it, is to frequent the com­pany [Page 55]of such as have and use it: for com­monly it consists in matters so delicate and nice, that though we perceive them, hardly can we tell what they are.

But you have made use of a word [form the spirt] that hath much pleased me. I re­member of some good Masters, who taught the Exercises with so great exactness, that there was nothing wanting, nor over much; not a bit of time lost, nor the least motion, which did not contribute to Action. These Masters told me, that if one have once the bo­dy formed into a good carriage, the rest comes easily. It seems to me also, that they who have the spirit formed, understand all that is said to them; and that afterward they need no more but good Monitours. When one finds such, and entertains himself with them, he gets some certain sentiments and views that he could never have learned by himself; and I know nothing that can so much contribute to the compleating of a great man.

How sensibly do you touch me! cried the Mareschal: if in my childhood that it had been discovered to me, which I have not since perceived but by much experience and refle­ction, how much time and trouble should I have spared! how many things would a Word then spoken to me to purpose have made me comprehend! how many [Page 56]things should I have know which I know not, nor never shall know whilst I live! I look back upon so many occasions which I have lost, upon so many things that I might have done, and whereof I never thought till it was out of time. And how much do you think I blame my self for the false steps which I should never have made, if any one had but lent me a hand? for all the world are guilty of faults, and even the most accom­plished; but the grosser are only perceptible.

As he was thus speaking with much eager­ness, My Lord Mareschal, said the Chevalier, we must not be cast down with any thing: life deserves not so much, as that we should trouble our selves how we spend it. We are just out of the world when we begin to know it; at least we are pretty forward in our jour­ney, before we know the best way. Good God! what you say is true, answered the Ma­reschal; but never tell me that there is a cer­tain period of age required, to attain to a cer­tain pitch of Knowledge, and that solid Judg­ment cannot be purchased, but by long Expe­rience: a childe of good parts understands all that is said to him, when we hit the right way, and accommodate our selves to his Genius. I agree with you, said the Chevalier; but I would not load him with a long series of too Methodical instructions. I had rather tell him [Page 57]but little, and that every document had its ef­fect, praise or blame him according as he gave occasion for the one or other, and give him the reason of every thing that is said to him, so that he might be brought at last in­sensibly to make the application himself. It is far better to illuminate the Understanding, than to stuff the Memory; for so, many re­gular Precepts are forgotten before they can be made use of. They refer you to a time when some rare thing as they say is to be seen, but the time is at very great distance.

All that is taught or said to the young Prince, should render him more knowing and agreable to day than he was yesterday; and some progress in this should be continually observed. It were good likewise to accustom him to somewhat of Freedom and Affability, which makes great Kings loved and esteemed. Affection produceth effects that are particular­ly useful to him. How true do you say! cri­ed the Mareschal; and what is so necessary to a great Prince, as the quality of attracting love? I prize it above all, replied the Che­valier; but do not you think that that great­ness of Soul, and that height of Judgement which you know, contribute much to it? There you hit the main point, said the Mare­schal; and therefore so soon as he had learned the Instructions and Rudiments of his younger [Page 58]years, I should begin to give him new views, enlarge his knowledges, and give him a hint of every thing. But lest I might mislead him, and mistake the way in some unknown Coun­try, I should have great care to chuse good Guides, and should be sure of the best.

Children, said the Chevalier, are not com­monly speculative; the most part are active, and set upon play: yet there are some of a temper sullen enough, and are apt to plod and recollect their own thoughts. It were to be wished that the young Prince were neither too thoughtful nor too stirring and active. It is the fittest and best temper to have a little of both, and to be able easily to slip from the one to the other: For the minde by too much thinking sinks within it self; and when it dwells there too long, becomes wilde, and un­apt for society: And action too much conti­nued without intermission, works only out­wardly; and they that constantly addict them­selves thereto, make not any reflections, and never become great men.

We must meditate upon what we set about though we have but a moment of leisure; be­cause by pondering and meditating we search means to attain to Perfection: but when we think to have found such, it is necessary we should put them in practise, that we may know if they be excellent: for no body can [Page 59]be assured of that, but by experience. Now if what we imagine likely to succeed in any thing be but a meer notion, or some project too difficult to be put in practice, the only way is to trie it, and we shall undeceive our selves upon the spot. Thereby it comes to pass that men dayly improve the most absolute and per­fect things they have done.

When I came first to Court, said the Mares­chal▪ men were perswaded that there was no more needful to make a man of breeding, but to dance, run at the Ring, or something of that nature. Every one took to that exercise which he liked best, and stuck to it as if it had been his Profession.

Such things are graceful when gentilely performed, yea, even when not at all practised, I mean that the body thereby becomes more free and unstinted; which will appear though one stand still. You know that it is a great ad­vantage to be a good Actor. Action, said the Chevalier, is a kinde of Expression; and as well chosen words are agreeable, when they express pleasing matters: So all that is per­formed by meen and gesture is well received, when it is done with good grace, and that Wit and Merit appear in it. But we must not deceive our selves; we are often the Actors of nothing, as well as the Sayers of nothing: Action hath its faults as well as Language; [Page 60]and to become excellent in either, we must observe what in every subject is like to take.

This quality of a good Actor seems to me very necessary for society: And to speak A la­mode, it is much like that which now adays men call [a good Air.] Yet a good Air rests not onely here, it appears in every thing; and to tell you in a word what it is, it consists in doing well what one does. Men confound it with the Knack of Charming, though there be great difference betwixt them. A good Air shews it self at first blush; it is more regular, and in better order: The Knack of Charming is more flattering and insinuating; it strikes directly at the heart, and that by secret ways. A good Air produceth more Admiration; and the Knack of Charming more Love. Young people who are not throughly fashio­ned, have not for most part a good Air, nor even the Master-pieces of Charming.

They who love nothing like Discourse, said the Mareschal smiling, are much pleased with such subjects to set off their Wit, and those that hear them have not easily done with them; but when one understands well what is inquired into, he says nothing unprofitably, and sound Judgement and Learning does therein visibly appear.

That we may return to our ancient Cour­tiers, as the most part of exercises are but for [Page 61]a certain age, so it happened, that they who onely minded them, being no more young, knew no more wherein to employ themselves.

I would have no body then make Exercises their chief stock: I know very well they are not to be neglected; but there is still some­what better. I have indeed always believed that nothing ought to be so much desired as Wit, and that it is often ones own fault that he comes short of it. I am likewise, more than ever, perswaded that it is impossible to miss of that, when one is bred amongst some sort of persons.

At least, added the Chevalier, a most learned man maintains, that, very neer the matter, all men naturally have the same Spirit; and that the chief difference proceeds onely from the care which is taken of breeding, or the bias and inclination that it takes to it self. I am not altogether of that opinion, said the Ma­reschal; the advantages of a happy Nature have the first rank, which Art coming after­wards accomplishes.

As to the Instruction that one takes of him­self, it happens but seldom that the Mind unas­sisted finds the best ways: & I wonder at some great Princes, who notwithstanding that in their infancie they were instructed but in a few things, are nevertheless great men. Most of those that are about them, imagine that there [Page 62]is no need of so much haste, and that it might wrong their health. I am very apt to believe that this Conduct is good, provided the con­sequences be eyed, and that men call to mind that it would be very dangerous to accustom a young Prince to want Wit: Means must therefore be sought out to teach them, by de­lighting of them, and always to give them some instruction without fatigue.

But to return to those admired Princes, who have attained their Accomplishments by themselves, I cannot see how Maximes should be grounded upon so rare instances. I am not of the opinion no more than you, said the Chevalier, that one should trust to that; and I think the surest way to learn Breeding, is to betake ones self to persons of Breeding. As the Voice is improved by Singing, and we learn to use it aright when we practise under a good Master; so Wit insinuates it self, and is insensibly communicated amongst persons who have a good frame of Spirit. It is not to be doubled but one may be improved, when an able man takes him in hand.

It is my judgment, continued the Chevalier, that persons of Parts and Breeding should not only be well entertain'd about that Prince▪ but that likewise care should be had to finde out and invite such, for commonly they make not too great a bustle, nor offer themselves. They [Page 63]know how to comply with their fortune; and besides, they are so rare, that he who is so ac­complished needs not fear the too great abun­dance of others. I do not in all my life re­member that ever I saw so great a number at one time, but that I have still desired to have seen a greater.

These men say always somewhat that takes, and never do any thing that carries not on it some mark of Integrity and Breeding. In keeping company with, and observing of them, one learns not onely what he ought to know to make him a Gentleman, but likewise how to make use of it, even so far as to be si­lent to the purpose and with good grace. We see them sometimes without remarking of them; and they make me call to minde those good Artists that are not so sollicitous as o­thers, though not so much out of idleness or neglect, as a certain aversion that most vertu­ous men have from publishing their own worth.

When I have the fortune to meet with any man, I know how to sift him; and though I hear him speak good things, and with as good grace as can be desired, yet for all that I con­clude nothing. This is very often but a bor­rowed stile, and affected personage. I take notice if all come from his own stock, and if nothing betrays it self: In fine, I look not so [Page 64]much upon what appears to me regular and polished, as on some certain things that shew a deep reach, and great capacity of minde.

Children covet not always the company of Children; those that are of an ambitious and bold Spirit, please themselves more with men, especially if they be of pleasing Conversation. I think the young Prince should be accustomed to pass his time among such; and can there any more sure and less painful way be imagined for the Prince to render himself the most ac­complished of the world, than from his child­hood to have had the company of such Cour­tiers?

For as a Childe without study learns the Tongue of those whom he hears speak, and speaks it afterward naturally; he will not fail likewise to take insensibly the Manners of those that are about him, and whatsoever he acquires that way, becomes natural to him. That manner of Instruction, said the Mare­schal, is to be made use of as much as possibly can be; yet that is not enough to make one speak well; a little Art and Study must be mingled with it. I grant it, said the Chevalier, and indeed we cannot have too much of both; but we must chiefly aim at a kind of Wit which neither books nor learned men can bestow. It seems to me that such as have it, want neither Art nor Science; and when one hath it not, let [Page 65]him be never so accomplished, in some things, there is most commonly some unlucky circum­stance that quite spoils his best performances.

Since there is no more necessary to compleat a Gentleman, but to speak well and do well, and that the Question is of Speaking well: Though one had learned all the Secrets of a Language, with so many other things which are taught for the help of Discourse, it is in truth almost nothing, if he understand no more but that; for what appearance is there of pleasing and perswading persons of Bree­ding, unless we know what may affect them, and by what method to win upon them? Most part of Masters, if you observe it, speak not a word of this. Without that knowledge, said the Mareschal, it would be very hard to succeed in it, and particularly in the commerce of Life, where the least false step is remarked: When we make such an unluckie trip, we can­not get on our legs again as we would; and I am very well satisfied that 'tis most important to have that kinde of Wit, and to know the World. Nevertheless, I think that it would be very difficult, without Art and Rules, to speak well on all Subjects.

That Art, said the Chevalier, is easily learn'd, and signifies but little, at least in the way that it is taught. Most part who know it, are not a jot more able for it; whether it be that the [Page 66]Precepts that have been put into their heads are not very good, or that they have not been taught how to use them. But if one did give excellent Instructions, and in teaching of them put them in practice, without doubt it would prove a great advantage for Speaking well.

As to the Rules that are given us, we must exactly follow those that are in use; most part of which concern the Puritie of Language: and I perceive that a great many Persons, with­out studying of them, fail not to put them in practice. There are other Rules go farther, and are taken from sound Judgment and a long Experience. The Masters of the Trade having observed some things that have some­times succeeded, have therefore believed that from thence they might form Rules: but they are very often so uncertain, that one should not follow them, but according as he finds and judges them pertinent; and when he adheres to them, he should have respect to time and circumstances. So that if any one by dexteri­ty or chance, should discover something of more worth than all that hath been seen hi­therto, we ought to make use of his Inven­tion.

That useful Art which makes men excellent in Discourse, appears always disguised under a natural show; affects no other Comeliness [Page 67]but that of genuine and simple Beauty: and though it labour to place its Charms in open view, yet its chief designe is to be hid. You cannot but call to minde those inchanted Gar­dens of the Palace of Armidas:

I take that to be the perfectest Art which is least remarkable: for when things smell of Art and Study, we may conclude, that they who Say them, have neither of both, or that they knew not how to use them.

This is the fault of those that speak in such a strain that the best Wit, without Learning, cannot comprehend them; but if for want of Judgment and Acquaintance with the World, men do not always understand what is well said, they have no body to blame but them­selves for that.

But this is pretty well for one sitting: If you have a mind to walk any more, I espy in that Orange-walk an Alley, where you may enjoy the cool. I see then, said the Mare­schal, [Page 68]starting up, that our Discourse for to day is ended: Let us make two or three turns more, and afterwards go to Dinner: for if you believe me, I begin to have a stomach. After Dinner we shall go to M.L.G.'s house, and there spend the afternoon at Play. No more, I was so well satisfied with our walk last night, that I intend to take you thither again to morrow, not to the same place, but to the other side of the River on that rising-bank. I will come to your Lodgings, and if you be within we shall go together to the Hermi­tage.

The fourth Conversation.

THe Mareschal, according to his promise, between four a five in the afternoon, came and called the Chevalier. The weather was fair, but by reason of the season of the year somewhat hot. They quickly got the length of the Hermitage, which is but a mile and a half from the Town. It is a little Cell with a Chappel and Garden, where they could not enter, because no Hermit lived there, and the two Monks that used to be there were gone abroad that day. The Mareschal and Cheva­lier continued their walk a little farther down into a Wood, whose high and tuffie Trees yielded a shade proof against the Sun, and the Turff below a Walk like to a Meadow, whose tender Grass begins to peep above ground.

Having walked a little they stopt under an aged and well-covered Oak; and being sate down, What shall we say, cried the Mareschal, or what shall we not say? I have passed the night where you left me, said the Chevalier, at Play; which has made me exceeding dull. I have observed no such thing, replied the Mare­schal, in all our Discourse by the way. Now [Page 70]that I am in repose, said the Chevalier, and that I feel the jolting of the Coach no more, the fresh Air of this Wood lulls me almost a­sleep. I am sometime in the same condition as you are now, answered the Mareschal; and when I reflect upon my self in that state, I fan­cie that I feel a certain sweetness that is found betwixt sleeping and waking; when no thoughts take me up, but the thinking that I am pleased: But I dispence with that commonly for the opportunity of good Company, and that I may sleep better at night.

You told me on the way, continued the Mareschal, that they who express themselves best, use more Repetitions than others; and that notwithstanding it is taken for a fault. Is not there some little contradiction in this? I remember it very well, answered the Chevalier, and I do not think that I am mistaken: For those that speak well, hit at first upon the best Words and Phrases, to express their thoughts. And whenas it happ [...]ns often they are to touch the same things over again, though they be not ignorant that variety pleaseth, yet they cannot easily forsake a better to lay hold of a worse Expression: when on the other hand, others who are not so nice in their choice, embrace that which offers first; so that chance furnishes their Language with variety. And because [Page 71]men are quickly weary of a too much frequen­ted manner-of speaking, though it be the most proper to give the sense of what it signi­fies, they finde some fault with it; and they that affect the purity of Language, are more subject to this than others.

The reason is, because there is good and bad in every thing, yea in Language it self; which in one sense cannot be too pure: But variety refreshes; and if the meanest word could finde its proper place, one tongue is not so copious as to reject it.

Some Ladies of admirable parts, and who should use them so as to give every thing its due, condemn some very good words which we can hardly be without. Some who use them too often, and commonly to no purpose, have possess'd them with this dislike. But though we ought to submit to the judgement, and even the prejudices of Ladies, yet I be­lieve we should not do amiss, in some cases, to refer our selves to the judgement of so many excellent men, who give verdict without pre­judice or whimsey, and have made it their business so long to decide the Controversies of Language. I am of the same opinion also, said the Mareschal, and it is no matter to be slighted: for the sweetest periods of Life are spent in Discourse and Conversation: There is little to be done without speaking; and by [Page 72]experience I am sensible of the great advantage we make when we do it to purpose. But this in my judgement is of greatest importance, that we finde many occasions where there is need of Art and Wit to gain upon people, and to convince them that we are in the right. Men are satisfied when they can indifferently well acquit themselves of what I say; and most part are perswaded, that if a thing be once well done, it is not worth the while to do it a little better. It is in this though that per­fection consists, and this it is that distinguish­eth the excellent from ordinary Artists.

You have fully awaked me, said the Cheva­lier, with your [a little better] which appears to me very difficult. But how happy is the man that can reach it! I am of your minde that it cannot be too much endeavoured: for Conversation, it is the surest way to gain Love; and besides, I perceive that he that is a good Companion for Gentlemen, is so also for himself; and on that depends the greatest happiness of this Life.

As to the occasions whereof you speak, when the most ingenious carry commonly the day, it seems to me that the best means that can be invented for perswading, are not good, if they be not honest and generous; and that men should not aspire, like barbarian Princes, to conquer right or wrong; but like noble [Page 73]Heroes, in such a way as may even be grate­ful to the subdued.

I can finde nothing so lovely, as an upright and sincere heart, it seems to me the basis of Wisdome; at least I suspect all wicked men as guilty of Folly. It is impossible to have a great and well-framed Soul, if through the Interests of the world, yea even the transports of most violent Passions, we espy not what is laudable and generous, and embrace it.

They who have an upright Heart, have al­so an upright Judgment, how weak soever it an upright Judgment, how weak soever it may be: and minde it, some sort of people, who have so many folds and doubles in their Heart, have never soundness of Understanding: There is alwaies some false colour that gives them false views; and artifice and tricks de­monstrate, that one hath not Wit enough to accomplish his designes by fair and honest courses: the candid and ingenuous person is the man that takes with Gentlemen. How comely are all the Actions of Life that spring from so pure a fountain! How are our thoughts and words thereby imbellished! and how lovely a thing is it to speak well, when that air is not wanting! It may be by fol­lowing of this Rule, one may not prove happy in every thing; and is it your crooked and side-way men that are so? But one may assure himself at least to purchase the Love [Page 74]and Esteem of those who understand true worth; and is there any thing greater to be desired?

Whilst the Chevalier discoursed in this manner, he perceived the Mareschal wholly taken up in hearing; and fearing that so se­rious an attention might do him prejudice, he endeavoured to take him off with some witty and pleasant digression. The Mareschal who perceived it, I see, said he to him, that you would carefully husband my health, but you do not take the right course; men must treat people according to their genius, and accommodate themselves to their inclinati­ons. What diverts the most part, is tedious to me, and good Sense and Reason never tire me; but particularly such things as may render me more a Gentleman always delight me. Well then, said the Chevalier, let us go on; one could not have thought that you had been so serious.

Amongst the singular and rare Persons, of whom I have some Idea, I finde some who have so nobly acquitted themselves of all that they have undertaken, that none can reflect thereon without admiration. I have also observed others, who have spoken in so sublime a Stile, that it is very hard to imitate them. We must nevertheless endeavour to watch, yea, and if it be possible, to surpass [Page 75]both the one and the other. For whether we act or speak, there is nothing but matters of this rate that deserve Love and Admiration: when the heart and minde are filled with such Principles, and one does practise them from his Childhood, from such an one, some­what rare and exquisite may be expected.

Moreover, let no man trouble himself whe­ther all will be approved of and followed: It matters not at first if one be not so regular and exact, provided the way be so noble and lovely, that they who consider it, cannot judge what progress may be made: a little time and pains bring perfection; and what­ever is handsomely and gracefully begun, For­tune seems pleased in the same manner to compleat.

I know some who speak well, and commit none of those things which men call faults; but they are still upon the same key: we know what we are to expect from them: and in my judgment, the thing that we ought most to fear and avoid, is the having of Master-pieces and things of high price.

It may come to pass, that it is for want of occasion that one-saies nothing that is excel­lent, and that the subject will not allow it: and yet I think that there is no so cross nor unlucky matter which may not be turned to some agreeable sense, if one could make the [Page 76]best use of his parts. For that which most times appears to us difficult, and even impossi­ble, is not so so much of its own nature, as by reason of the want of skill or invention on our parts; insomuch that one might perform a great many things to admiration, if he had Wit and Industry enough to discover the waies of action, which though he cannot fall upon, may nevertheless be found out.

Whilst we are young, we judge of nothing aright; and if it come to pass that experience, reflexions, or the rencontre of some intel­ligent person give us other measures, we de­spise what we have admired, and laugh at our own follies, when we examine our selves without flattery. But if any one understood the true value of every thing, do not you think he might have sport enough from those whom men esteem, or at least who presume to be so? For as to others, who are satisfied with any thing, or have no great conceit of themselves, they are not to be laughed at, though in whatsoever they do they be faulty, because they know very well that all the world may make escapes, and upon that prin­ciple alone they set to work.

Nevertheless, though one may in speaking espy or imagine something better than what he saies, he must not therefore quit a little assurance and confidence of speaking well and [Page 77]gracefully what he intended. But nothing keeps men at a greater distance from perfecti­on, than an opinion that they have already attained it.

It comes into my minde, said the Mareschal smiling, that the more accomplished men are, the better use they may make of our Discourses, and that our Conversations (if the comparison offend you not) are much like to the Commentaries of Caesar, from which none but great Souldiers can reap much advantage. The reason is, because we only touch by the way what offers it self for making of a Gentle­man; and that our Discourse is only adapted for those who have the same Genius that in­spires us; the rest will never make any great progress. But what do you think? May that Genius be acquired? And if so, by what means would you begin to instil it into Chil­dren? For you must not pretend at first step to raise them so high.

In breeding of a Child, answered the Che­valier, it were to be desired, that at first at­tempts were used to make him love or hate that which deserves this or that, as much as his tender age doth permit, and to fashion and enure him to a good relish; for I must (if I intend to explain my self) make use of that word, which is by so many abused. A good relish would make him understand what he [Page 78]should desire to obtain, and the means to render him therein excellent: So that if be­forehand he had the true sense of good and evil, what he might meet with in the world, would instruct him without a Governour; and his aversion from evil things, would serve him instead of a Lesson, to avoid them when they occurred.

One cannot have too delicate a relish to distinguish real Graces from counterfeit Charms, and to avoid therein mistake. It is not my meaning, that one should be like sick Persons, who nauseate and have the mouth out of taste; but that one should judge aright of every thing that presents, by a cer­tain kind of perspicacity that is quicker, and sometimes surer than reflexions. One must not for all that severely reject what displeases, nor be too censorious in reproving: It is better to strive to do aright what another does amiss; the Life becomes thereby more easie, and the manner of Instruction more pleasing. I would likewise endeavour that a Young-man should have the Heart and Minde such as they ought to be: the Minde contrives the means to attain to perfection, and the Heart is ne­cessary to put in practice what is judged the best: for Vertue and Honesty is not a meer Speculation, but an active and governing Prin­ciple.

We see a great many Children, said the Mareschal, who notwithstanding of their age want not some prudence, and can foresee what may be hurtful to them, and what may do them good; but that which is called, The having of a good relish, (for I boggle not at that word no more than you, all manners of expression are grateful when they are without aff [...]ctation and properly applied:) that I say, which is called the having of a good relish, is not to be expected from young people, if Nature have not been extremely liberal to them, or that great Care hath been had in their Education. I know not whence it pro­ceeds, unless it be that by a natural Instinct, they set streight on that which appears to them most necessary, and that other things affect them but little.

You give an excellent reason of it, said the Chevalier, and I observe that it is very hard for one that is young, not to be surprized with that which hath a lustre, and sparkles to the eye. Children are with all imaginable care to be cured of this, because all of them, even the Children of Princes themselves, have this in common with the Vulgar, that they are fond of ornament and show; but people of Breeding and Understanding love not gaudie trifles, which adorn much, though they be of little value; things that make no [Page 80]great shew, and are of great price, please them; this is observable in all things, even in the minde and thoughts: For if such kinds of things seem very lovely, and are but only so in appearance, they give immediately distaste; and those which are lovely without show, the more they are considered, the more we finde them to our minde: The reason is, because they are beautiful without ornament and dress, and that from time to time we discover in them secret charms, which were not at first perceived.

Whence comes it, said the Mareschal, that some who express themselves with good grace upon some certain subjects, are so un­like themselves when they adventure on other matters? And do you not wonder that that ingenious person, whom we knew, should have left us such bald Love-Letters, who up­on all other subjects wrote so well? How can that be! Doth not the same Genius go along in all? It is indeed the same Genius, answer'd the Chevalier; but the compleatest person in the world is never alike proper for all things, and the diversity of subjects occasion very different effects.

And besides, it is not enough to do a thing well, to understand it; one must likewise de­light, and not weary in it. It is ordinatily to be seen, that good Masters speak well as to [Page 81]that which concerns their profession; and I imagine that Love was none of that mans trade, or at least that he never understood it well. It cannot be said, that it was want of Wit, if his Love-Letters be not comparable to the others, wherein he did excel, for he had sometimes too much; but that his Wit was wrong employed. When the business is to touch the Heart, he falls on subtilizing, and melting in Caresses. He wrote to a La­dy, with whom he was passionately in Love, that his Soul was so weak that it wanted strength to leave him, and that that preserv'd to him a little life: And to another also, that that which hindred him from dying, was that therein he should have pleasure, which in her absence he would not enjoy.

He borrowed these Inventions from the Spaniards, and without doubt the patterns are good; but he used them out of time. For that gallant and brisk way, which might be well received in the beginning of a Love, is not therefore in season in the heat of the fit, when one is never accustomed to trifle and laugh. And when he speaks seriously, his chief aim is to perswade that he is in Love; but we should not make too great haste to tell, nor perswade that we love. it is far better to consider how we may render our Affection acceptable. For a beautiful Woman easily be­lieves [Page 82]that men love her, and I think she has reason; but she is not always desirous to be loved; and if it were so, the most important feat is to bring matters so about, that she might take it well; at least we should begin that way. I finde him very punctual in ex­aminning all the transactions of his Heart; and to tell you my opinion, he ought to have remembred, that it is not the nature of vio­lent Passions to reflect upon themselves. A man that is transported with anger, thinks not that he is in rage; and when one is over­whelm'd in Love, he perceives not himself to be so, or at least if he take notice of it, he thinks himself then in a natural state which seems to him unalterable. I observe also that he doth so much exaggerate his cares and de­spair, that all appears false. It is much better to say but little, and to give occasion to think of them deeply. Yea most commonly they should speak themselves without words, and above all, no artificial complaints should give occasion to suspect the truth of our grief. The Adventure of Astraea and her Lover, who threw himself into the Lignon — is sim­ple and natural: they never told one another such far-fetcht and studied things. Yet their Love appears not only in their words, but all that is to be observed in them speaks it, and there is nothing to be seen more charming.

It seems to me moreover, that there is no kind of subject that less admits of counterfeit ornaments, and that notwithstanding, that man, contrary to his custome, made sometimes use of them when he wrote of Love: but the thing that gives chiefly distaste is, that he handles it too openly. The lovely Goddess, said an antient Grecian, is no ways pleased, that men should too openly disclose her My­steries; and though no body had ever said so, all men see that there a Veil does well, and that on that subject the expression cannot be too delicate; witness that Verse,

I finde notwithstanding, said the Mare­schal, that that man hath done wonders in this kinde; which agrees very ill with your opinion of him, that it was the thing which he least understood: Is there any thing more perfect to be seen, than what he brings in his Heroine saying? The glory of that, said the Chevalier, is not all his own: A Lady who furnished him with the designe and invention deserves the greater share. That is the Lady whom he hath so well represented in the person of Zelida: She had the piece for some [Page 84]time in her hands, before it came to light; what hath charmed you is hers, and seeing you know her, it should not surprise you. There you tell me much, said the Mareschal, and it may be now you think that I have no more at all to be informed of; but I have still a question to put to you.

What is meant by that mighty Elequence, which (as a great many say) can do every thing? I have asked this of some who bragg'd that they knew it, and no body as yet could ever make me understand it. You ask me a question, answered the Chevalier, so little known in the world, that there the very word of Eloquence it self can hardly gain Credit. For it seems to me that no body makes use of it, but to play on those who are more pleased with fair Sentences than good Sense.

Men may use it in Raillerie, replied the Mareschal: yet there would be too much Nicety, yea Ignorance, impertinently and out of season to reject it. Besides, at Court mens discourse is only taken up about what they see; and that view where every one may easily have an interest, makes every thing pass for good and current that there is said; but in places of retreat, as this is, if men do not entertain themselves with certain matters, which make no stir at Court, they would pass their time very ill.

We are fully agreed, said the Chevalier, and your question well deserves to be exami­ned; but the most part of things that we weigh more by Opinion than Reason, are al­ways a little dubious: This is one of them, and so are all those that concern Gracefulness, and even Beauty it self, though the cause of it be more visible than that of Gracefulness; if it were put to a question of two fair and lovely women which were the most taking, or even which were the most beautiful, it would be hard to decide it, or at least to make it so evident, that all the world would acquiesce. It may be said on the like occasion, such a thing works such an effect on me; but I know not how it affects others. This I pre­mise for my excuse, if I entertain any singular opinion.

This mighty Eloquence seems not to be what it is imagined; men would have it to dazle, and be always lofty: for being perswa­ded that the simple and familiar Stile is low, they also believe that it is not natural to Elo­quence to be so. Thus men have more re­gard for the decking than the excellence of the thing; not considering that they should judge of it as of Gold, which the more fine and pure it is, the more it is esteemed. I am so far contrary to those who would have Rhetorick always tempestuous and blustering, [Page 86]that I think it had rather appear without ha­vock or noise.

As it is most lovely and noble, so it is most difficult and rare: it flowes from a penetra­ting and exict discerning; but so high and comprehensive, that there is nothing to be found above or beyond it. It is a bright and lively flame, whereof by chance we see some glances, even in the least-affected entertain­ments.

Though it address it self chiefly to the Minde, and seem to have no other design but to gain that, yet there it stops not, but even pierces the Heart: It is true, if one would trouble and disquiet the Soul, he must take a more sensible way, and tones more animated; but this high Eloquence is not found but in a height of thoughts. They who acknowledg no more in it but a fine Stile, as they call it, if I mistake not, do not observe the most exqui­site part thereof. Methinks there is need of a great stock of Beauty to bear out great orna­ments, and that men do but seldom minde the matter, where such pompous ways of speaking have their rank, and are fitly placed. What I now say is but little regarded, and may very easily escape us; but possibly we shall minde it better in a subject more sensible and better known.

When Ladies in a great assembly would [Page 87]appear with emulation, you know they adjust themselves rather to please than dazle the eye: with some a rich Attire, with others a more modest dress does well, and ordinarily they affect not extremities, they covet nothing too dull nor too shining; but hardly can we s [...]e two in the same dress, and it is that diversity that adorns the Scene.

Since I am come so far, I fancie that Elo­quence which thinks well and speaks ill, is much like to a beautiful Woman, in a bad or negligent dress; and that that which is more considerable by the dextrous use of lan­guage than the strength of reason, resembles a Woman of ordinary Beauty, but always dress'd and deck'd; and that great care works not the greatest charms. But when Wit and Rhetorick joyn together, there is Beauty it self and the fulness of delight, to which nothing is wanting.

I am very much pleased with the Idea that you give me of Eloquence, said the Mareschal; and I conclude from all, that the way to speak well, is to finde out in the subject the best and most agreeable points that therein occur; but that we must not labour so much to give a shining gloss to the things we say, as to place them in the order that most befits them.

I would not begin in a way too sparkling; [Page 88]it is indeed to be wished that every thing we say were good, yea and goodly, according as the subject deserves; but we must rise to that by degrees: Nature in this, as in all other things, is a very skilful Mistriss. Mark how insensibly she advances, and how the fairest Day which begins to dawn, has but so little lustre, that we are in doubt whether it be Night or Day. I discover to you all my Sen­timents; and if I be mistaken, or take the one for the other, I hope you will give me notice of it.

To my humour nothing speaks so much a noble and perfect manner of expression, as to leave some certain things to be comprehended without mentioning of them: Expression is clear enough, when we understand what an­other says, though we understand not at first all that he thinks, and that his Sense reacheth further than his Words.

Men very often use so many subtilities on a subject, that what hath been well said is quite spoil'd: when one hath hit the right string he doth well to rest there, and pass to other matters: yea, I would even handle them in another way, because Variety never cloys.

He that speaks must accomodate himself to the capacity of his Hearers. The greater [Page 89]Parts one may have, the more he should take heed, lest by a high pitch of thoughts and speaking of things, which most are not ac­customed to hear, though he express himself most clearly, he may lead his hearers to such a height, as may turn their Brains, and make them giddie. This is a fault though that may be valued; and it is so rare, that I see no man complain of it, and that would not be glad to have it. For at worst it is easily a mended.

As to what men call good Words, I be­lieve they depend asmuch on the subject, yea often of Chance, as on Wit and Understand­ing; and that we must stay for occasion, if we would use them. Men may, I think, dispense with them: For it is enough to speak like a Gentleman, and upon every subject that presents, to say what is proper and just: that is, better than good words. Yet men love them, and I should not at all wonder at it, if they were really good words; but I admire that Equivocations, which have no­thing of that but the appearance, should have brought in credit some of very ordinary parts. Men now a days affect to speak, as some time ago they did to paint. For, as you know, there is always some false chaim, wherewith the world is abused.

That Mode, said the Chevalier, seens to [Page 90]me very ill invented: For, to be heard with pleasure, we must say matters that men are glad to understand, and speak them takingly. I fancy that these Picture-makers did neither of the two: one could not know the most part of those whom they so curiously repre­sented; and besides, their way of painting was not very good. For there are more sure and noble ways to make people believe what is remarked in them to be rare and singular, whether they be extolled or debased, than to draw them as they did to the smallest Linea­ment.

Excellent Painters never paint all: they give exercise and play to the imagination, and leave more to the thoughts, than they discover to sense. That Grecian, so famous for his Muse and for his Inventions, gives himself no trouble to describe Helen; he s [...]ies very little of her Countenance or Body, and nevertheless he hath perswaded all the world, that she was the fairest Woman that ever was seen.

Tasso, who in other things excelled, had done well to have imitated him; and when he speaks of the coming of Armida into the Christian Camp, if he had contented himself to have said in two or three words, That after she appeared and was heard speak, they would have abandoned all to follow her, and [Page 91]that even the General, who ought to have been more reserved and less sensible, was tempted to it; we should, without doubt, have found it more lovely. All that he mu­sters together of the Charms of Nature and Art, gives not so fine an Idea, as that which one can frame to himself, wherein men never fail.

The Graces appear but very seldom; and even when they are seen, they are not willing that men should have a full and open view of them: It is hard to paint them; and though it could be accomplish'd, seeing every one looks upon them with different regards, the piece would never satisfie all men.

But now the Sun sets, Is it not time to re­tire? Let us go, said the Mareschal, and if you think fit, walk a while, that we may ex­ercise our selves a little more.

The fifth Conversation.

THe Mareschal received often Letters from Paris, and from Court; and as he likewise wrote to entertain Correspon­dence, he sometimes shewed the Chevalier his Letters. I know not why it is, that men imagine that he is not so excellent this way, as in speaking. I think that his writings speak much a Gentleman, and are always witty. It is true, Conversation requires not so much of order, and that it dispenseth with a certain kind of exact connexion, which is not observed in discourse. Yet I think, if men observed it without constraint or affecta­tion, they would speak a great deal better. However, if what is said independantly and apart be good, and delivered with good grace, it is always well taken. But common­ly what we write should stick and hang toge­ther, yet without any signe of pains or labour. And if any one pretend to do a thing which men may be pleased to read, it is not enough that every part please by it self, they must be made for one another, and that with a due proportion.

It is remarked of the Mareschal, that he would always sparkle; and though his chief drist be to please those that have skill that way, yet he slights not the esteem of others: He is in that like to those Ladies, who can­not abide that any should escape their charms. Except a little History, or some Relations, and a small number of Books which he hath read, he hath studied nothing but the world, and notwithstanding understands all that is said to him. It happens even many times, that he improves things upon the hearing of them, and goes farther than one thought to lead him. What might be expected from a young man of such parts, who should be e­ducated under good Masters?

The next day after one of the Conversati­ons that they had had together, the Chevalier came to wait on him. The Mareschal after Dinner was retired into his Chamber, and seeing the Chevalier come in, I have much wished for you here, said he to him, to have supported me against five or fix very Learned Men, who might have been pretty good com­pany, if they had had common Sense. Before we sate down to Table, I set them together by the ears, and now and then put in a word when it came to my turn; but when I thought that I did most triumph, there were two of them, if I mistake not, that said to one ano­ther [Page 94]ther softly, That they could not conceive what men did finde in me so rare. They make me remember, said the Chevalier, of a very ingenious man whom I knew, that had read over all Tasso with much attention, without perceiving in it the least Wit or Pleasingness.

One learns nothing with such kinde of men, replied the Mareschal; they never take up things aright, and Nonsense passeth with them for very good Sense: Propose to them what you will that is clear, they think it ob­scure; besides, they have a peculiar language which I understand not, and which would be very ill taken in ordinary Conversation. It happens with them also, that instead of coming to the knot of the matter, they cut and mangle your question into so many pieces, that the one makes the other forgotten, so that at length no body can tell what it was I take a great deal of pleasure to see them rank and muster in so brave order matters of so small consequence. He that hath an exact Judgment, can easily trace and follow what he hears spoken, or what he saies himself, without so much ado. I love that men in Conversation should covet a pleasing and grateful Variety, that they pass by side way out of the Road, and that now and then they mount and raise themselves as occasion wil [...] [Page 95]allow. Although they may wander a little and fly at random, yet they easily finde their way again. We must, if I may be believed, ramble every where, whither our genius leads us, without other division or distinction but that of a good Judgment: This way is at least more conform to our Sentiments and Thoughts, than that so regular method of some, who put every thing under disguise: we see nothing in it that is genuine, or most commonly that is real. And in the Educa­tion of Children, why should we accustome them to such forced biasses, which one day they cannot put in practice, without making themselves ridiculous?

Studie may do prejudice, added the Che­valier, at least it must not be pretended that it infallibly makes Master-pieces. Nor doth the world either, said the Mareschal, always make such; and particularly they who are only cut out for the Army, are commonly of no plea­sant conversation: it is said to make amends for that, that they have acquired Honour, as if that put them out of the reach of every thing; and we may say under the Rose, that there is nothing more dishonourable, than to be a rugged and ill-bred man. It is much the same as with some certain grave and severe Women, who think much of themselves, on­ly because they are wild and untractable: [Page 96]For they loose themselves more, by setting a value upon themselves for so slight a matter, than if they were as gentle as they are severe, and in a word, than if they were such as men would have them to be.

When we judge sincerely, said the Cheva­lier, we can hardly finde any thing absolutely perfect; but the more exquisite discerning one hath, the more he makes it his honour to be indulgent: and we must not pretend to meet with such as we would have; we must endeavour to make them such, and especially if we love them, and be obliged to spend our life with them. For others whom we meet but by chance, we cannot turn and polish them as we would; we may only rough-hew them, by telling them what we think con­venient; and if they know how to make use of it, that does at least dispose them to finish the work themselves.

I no sooner begin to speak, said the Mare­schal, but you understand me better than I understand my self; and all that you say to me seems so easie to be conceived, that I often think that I knew it before you told it me. My thoughts run always towards my Chil­dren, who cannot as yet be without my care; I love them the more for that; and although there be somewhat in a plentiful estate, yet there is nothing I wish them so much to have [Page 97]as merit. We discourse sometimes concerning what we judge most expedient for the Educa­tion of a great Prince; and according to that Model, as near as one can approach it, he may bring up his Children. For I imagine, that the same Vertue can command when Fortune calleth, which knoweth how to obey, when Duty so obligeth. And the Chevalier and he being sate down; You say, continued he, that Study may do prejudice: I would willingly be informed in what manner it is to be used; for I do not believe that you are of the opinion that it should be absolutely renounced.

That would be a very odde conceit, said the Chevalier; The best natural Wit of the world avails but little, if care be not taken to instruct and perfect it: One never sets him­self to any thing as he ought, without being taught; and who can be perswaded, that to study to do a thing well, which one does a­miss, or to do it better when it is well done, can ever be hurtful? That is to say, for that end to seek out the best means, and under the best Masters; for so it is that one should study.

We see how necessary Art and good Ma­sters are for all kindes of Exercises. It would be very strange if the Body were capable of Instruction, and the Minde not. What pro­bability is there, that to make a man ride a horse well, Exercise and Masters should not [Page 98]fail to succeed; and that to learn Vertue and Breeding, neither of the two should be useful, but rather hurtful?

We seldom finde either Body or Minde in the frame that we would desire; but the defects of Body seem to me the more difficult to be amended: The Minde is naturally pliable, it may be rectified, provided we take the right course. And who can doubt, but if any one were as much a Gentleman, as (they say) Pignatel was a good Riding-Master, he might not make a Gentleman, as well as Pignatel a Horseman? What is the reason then that it falls out otherways? It is indeed because when one takes a thing from a bad Master, he learns to do it the wrong way; and that it is much more difficult to choose good Masters for the Minde, than for the Body: for the advantages of the Body are far more remark­able and better known than those of the Minde. It is also because that they who are capable to be good Tutors, are not always willing to undertake the imployment; and to speak truth, as the world goes, it is no great glory to make profession of it, though one might be able to discharge it to perfection.

It is certain, that to be accomplished, bred, and agreeable at the rate that it is to be wished a great Prince were, one cannot know too many things, if so be he have the dexterity [Page 99]to make use of them, and understands their worth. But to speak my minde, it is not to be a learned man, to have read much, and to have learned a vast number of different Opi­ons that establish no certainty: We know nothing well, but what we distinctly conceive, and what we are able to demonstrate to the first we meet with, if his apprehension be good. We must not trust to that which appears to us only through Clouds and Mist, & which we cannot lay open to the view of another.

Whilst one is young, he learns nothing but some words that give a show of Learning, when he is good at nothing; and this is not proper for the affairs of the world. I would have a man know every thing and that yet by the manner of his speaking none might twit him with Pedantry, or being a Philosopher.

It is always good to be clear-sighted, said the Mareschal, and to understand the world, whether one speak or write; but that which savours of study is sometimes ill taken. I cannot tell if we should write as we speak, and speak as we write: many have assured me we should, but I think the ordinary practice is otherways. It had been more probable, an­swered the Chevalier, if they had said, that we must write; as we would speak, and speak as we would write; for seldom do we either the one or other as we would: that Question, which is [Page 100]not to be slighted by persons of Parts, may very easily be cleared.

Men write of things which they never de­liver in plain discourse, and which are only composed to be read, as a History or the like: When one sets about that, or would therein succeed, he must not write as if he were telling a tale in company: History is more no­ble and grave; Conversation more free and negligent. And as there are some things that must onely be read, there are some like­wise onely made for hearing, as Harangues. If one would judge of the true worth of these, he must consider what intent they are good for when they are spoken, since that is their scope. And because Letters are not at all to be spoken; (for though we read them aloud, that is not called speaking) we should not write them altogether as we speak. For proof of this, should we meet a person to whom we had been a writing, though the Letter had been excellent, yet we should not speak to him the same things that we had written, or at least not in the same strain. It is never­theless good when we write, to imagine in some sort that we are speaking, that we may write nothing but what is natural, and which we might use in Conversation: And in the same manner when we speak, to perswade our selves that we write, that nothing may [Page 101]come from us but what is noble, and which hath somewhat of exactitude.

Why is it said, replied the Mareschal, that some speak well, but know not how to write? It is often believed, answered the Chevalier, that some persons do really speak well, when they do it only in appearance; and that is be­cause men are dazled by their Meene, or charmed with the love of their Voice. When one excels in speaking, he may do the same likewise in writing: though this indeed requires a little more pains: And I think, that one cannot be able to write well, and not to speak well. But it happens that those who only apply themselves to writing, have commonly a more faint and almost smothered strain in speaking; these men covet too much the sound and harmony: That sweetness of language which they affect, doth piece and piece deprive them of the natural use of it, which consists in giving to every thing that is said, the movings that are felt in the heart. For men speak not only to express their Thoughts, but also their Passions; and these are two things very different.

He that is moved at nothing, is as unfit to speak, as he that thinks nothing. The Heart hath a language as well as the Minde, and the expression of the Heart often produceth the greatest effects. When the Heart is not [Page 102]stirred, though one may have Wit enough, yet he never strikes home; and when one is passionate, if Wit be wanting, he makes but a noise, and commonly so out of time, that he had better hold his peace. The Heart then must have Passions, and the Minde not only conduct and order them, but likewise make the choice: For as there are some Thoughts that please, and others that do not, so is the same diversity likewise to be found in the emotions of the heart, some take, and others are rejected. You know better than I, that to inspire Joy or Heaviness, and so many o­ther Passions which sway the world in spight of reason, it is not enough to know them by experience, we must be touched with them at the instant, at least as we are with things that we see represented on the Stage.

Whether we would speak, or write well, we must have a great many regards; and few have that way succeeded. The hardest of all, in my judgment, is to understand aright what will please, and to have a genius to use it. I say, what will please, because it is not so easie a matter to be assured of it. For as to what is pleasing, every one hath his Taste; and if you observe it, that which ordinarily pleaseth is not so much the fruit of perfection, as of a certain Temperament, which agrees with our natural Sentiments. It is a kind of [Page 103]proportion which charms, when we perceive not whence the influence comes; but I think the true Graces, which affect most, and are al­waies lively, can hardly be without delicacy, and that great things, as Pomp, and Magni­ficence, are made rather for admiration than pleasure. When Beauty it self hath so much lustre, it is above our strength, we cannot hear it. Men praise the fair but love the buxom lasses: The reason is, because men are wearied with long admiration; and what is only made for that end, disgusts when the wonder is over.

Our chief care must be to think well: the excellence of thinking hath so many ad­vantages above some certain perfections which men hunt after in Art and Study, that he who thinks best, hath always the better of others. I perceive moreover, that they who have a discerning judgment for things, have it also for the manner of expressing of them; and that it is the fineness of thought that pro­duceth the quaintness of language. All this depends upon the purchase of that Spirit, whereof we have so much discoursed; and he that can give it, may brag that he is an excel­lent Master.

Matters of Fact and Memory are easily learned; and there are many to be found who can teach them: But the case is not so [Page 104]with what we call Knowing and Judging: that is the Master-piece of the Minde; but especially in what concerns Dexterity and In­vention, Exactitude and Decorum, there are few Masters who do not give wrong measures which cannot be corrected when one would. And because the first Emotions of the Heart, and some certain imperceptible impression that is made on the spirit of a Child, gives him an inclination either to good or evil, and that for the whole course of his Life; it were to be desired that nothing were read to the young Prince, but some certain Books that might give him the Idea, or at least the Sentiment of Perfection, by some passages delicately touched by a good hand. For sometimes we finde things so rightly hit, that it is impossible to say or think them better: he goes far that is shaped by such patterns, when by constant custome, and acquainting himself therewith, all that he saies carries the mark and signature of his instructions.

This Language which few can speak, pro­ceeds from an exactitude of Minde, and a reach of Understanding, that discovers things as in nature they are: Though it be a natural discretion, yet men continually make some improvement in it, when they set to it in the right way, and frequent the Conversation of those that are born with it. But I must still [Page 105]tell you, My Lord Mareschal, that they who lament that they have not followed their Stu­dies in the common Method, have not there­by lost any thing.

It is no small matter to be able to undeceive our selves of prejudices, and to know how to give every thing the value it deserves. Now if any man should discover, or only hint to us, what estimate we ought to make of things, we should be very much obliged to him. Most part make no account of this, though it be certain, that without this know­ledge men are always fops, or always erro­neous.

I am yet of the opinion, said the Mare­schal, that in giving the Rules of a good Life, and instilling the Sentiments necessary to it, a bad Master may do more mischief. I wonder not at all, that for such as we are, the first that comes in the way, or offers by chance, is im­ployed; because the consequence is not great: But for a great Prince, on whom the happiness of the Publick must one day absolutely de­pend, and according to whose Example, as by the most noble pattern, so many People are to model themselves, there is nothing that should be omitted. If in the remotest part of the Indies there were any to be found, who could discharge the office better than the ablest person at home, I think he should be sent for; [Page 106]it concerns the breeding of a great King, who is loved and admired: it concerns the making of him happy, and even all that are to live under him. For as they are to be obliged to sacrifice their lives for his glory, it is fair that some part of his good fortune should be scat­tered amongst them.

There is no more necessary for all this, said the Chevalier, but to make him a Gentleman, at least it is the most important. I perceive, said the Mareschal, that that word compre­hends almost every thing; but if one should ask me what it signified, I should finde my self very much puzzled to answer. I wonder not, said the Chevalier; a matter of so great extent has too many various regards and changes, to be explained in two or three words. They who say that Generosity con­sists in living and dying well, change the terms without clearing the question. Besides, though there were no dying, yet there would be Gentlemen as much accomplished as now they are. That we may therefore have a distinct knowledge of it, we may consider it in it self without any respect to what it is not, and view it in all its aspects.

Tell me, I pray you, what you think of it, replied the Mareschal; I should be very glad to see if you and I entertain the same thoughts about a matter of that consequence. Since I [Page 107]know, said the Chevalier, that you make it in all things your guide, and that therefore you must very well know it; I am assured that if the notion that I have of it be true, it must agree with the thoughts that you entertain thereof. For perfect Generosity is the same always in all subjects where it is found, though the difference of time and fortune may make it differently appear: But under what shape soever it shews it self, it is always love­ly, and that is the principal Character where­by it may be known. For real charms pro­ceed not from a bare outside, or slight ap­pearance; but from a great stock of Wit and Worth, that spreads it self upon every thing that we say, and upon all the Actions of Life.

It seems to me, that it makes a mystery of nothing, and as it avoids extremities, so it neither covets to be seen, nor to be hid. Its first approach brings no such lustre as to dazle or surprize: but when we draw near to con­sider it, we finde that it hath so good a grace in managing whatever occurs, whether good or bad, serious or jocund, that one would say, that all comes alike to it, and that in every thing it is agreeable: And when it meets with such cross and disadvantageous parts, which the Graces themselves could not pleasantly act, it hath so much skill as to let them alone.

I finde it not at all rigorous, but apt to pardon and excuse; and so far from making advantage of the misfortune and misery of another, that it is always ready to aid and succour him: It raises and makes happy all that depend upon it, as far as fortune will give it leave; and when it is able to do nothing, it never at least grieves or discourages any; and in this it is cautious, even to the smallest punctilio's. If it intend to droll, its mirth has no other designe, but to divert the per­sons themselves that it plays upon: It is never so much in conceit with it self, but that it is sensible that something may be done be­yond what it performs. It desires no false ad­vantages, but on the contrary, if occasion do not invite, it leaves us to guess at the thing wherein it excels.

It is never dazled by Interest: and if a Gentleman happen to be accused, though even his Life be in danger, yet he uses not all sorts of reasons to justifie himself; but the little he sayes makes even his Accusers sorry to have wronged him. Represent to your self So­crates, or Scipio, or any other of that flight. We may also observe that such men are above Fortune, or at least that they are seldome gid­die in prosperity; and what calamity so ever may befal them, they never brag that their Patience and Vertue does not abandon them, [Page 109]even when we see that they have enough and to spare. I think Generosity give always good Judgment, though it be very loath to decide; that it prefers choice to abundance, neatness to rich attire, and things which are little in view, to those which discover them­selves at first fight. Do you not likewise ob­serve, that it esteems Merit more than For­tune, that it is not subject to prejudices; that what choaks men of stinted Souls, never sur­prises it; and that the opinions of the world hinder it not from understanding the true value of things.

Nor do I think it tied to times or places, but that he who can do so much as to be a Gentleman in his Cottage, would have been so in all the Courts of the world. Yet there is a great deal required to make a Gentleman; and though one may pass for such at the Court of a great Prince, we must not there­fore believe that he is so accomplished as to be every where, and with all sorts of people so esteemed.

He that would enlarge on this subject, might make a great many observations: but to conclude, Generosity is observed to leave a dear and pleasing memory with those who have known it, and to work so upon men, as to make them never repent that they have obliged it.

After all, there was a Lady of so perfect a Beauty, and of so taking a Wit, that the most beautiful themselves could not but love her, who asked me what was meant by a [Gentle­man] and a [Gentlewoman]; for the one re­sembles the other: And when I had told her all that I thought of it, and that she had spoke of it to very good purpose, she did indeed confess, that all that was said was necessary to the constituting of the thing she inquired of; but that there was still in it somewhat inex­plicable, which is better known by seeing the practice, than hearing a discourse thereof. What she imagined consists in somewhat noble, which elevates and sets off good quali­ties, and which issues only from the Heart and Minde; whereof all the rest is nothing but the equipage and train.

That Lady, said the Mareschal, was ex­tremely nice; for I think you have said e­nough as to what concerns a Gentleman, and without exception I approve of all that you have observed in it, unless it be perhaps, that you say, that to please is an infallible mark of Generosity: It seems to me that men succeed in that very often by bad ways, as well as good, and even with greater lustre. To this may be answered, said the Chevalier in two words, that there are some who understand true worth, and that to please such is a good [Page 111]signe; but that again there are many more of less discretion, and that to be agreeable to those is no great matter of reputation.

However, replied the Mareschal, if we take the true test of Generosity, whether by consi­dering it in it self, or in those things which it does and says, it appears to be paramount and above all, and there is nothing to be seen so worthy of a great Prince. It is true, said the Chevalier, it is lovely, and begets respect, though it be reduced to silence, and have no­thing to do. But you have touched the two things that give it lustre [Speaking and Do­ing:] And that was the thing, as Homer saith, that the learned Chiron taught the young Achilles.

That Master, said the Mareschal, must needs have had the right stroke: He bred a Scholar who hath been much talked of in the world; and if we see in him so little of so high and extraordinary worth, it may well have been the fault of his Governours. As he made an end of these words, he espied some Players enter, who came to divert him; and that put an end to the Conversation.

The Sixth Conversation.

THE Chevalier came to wait on the Mare­schal, who had spent the Afternoon at Play. He entered just as their Play ended, and as the Players retired. The Mareschal who was going abroad, was glad to see him at the very nick of time when he might take him along with him. And I ask not, said he to him, if you be a man for a walk; for I know you are pleased to behold the variety and difference of Colours which appear in the Skie at Sun-setting, and you love well to breathe the fresh Air of the Evening; but my doubt is only which way we shall go: the Wood wherein we were the other Evening would please me well; but we must pass through the Town to go thither, and the way is bad, and I know not if we shall have time enough. I think, said the Chevalier, it were better to go down along the Water-side. And this opinion was followed. They went that way as far as the end of the Meadow, where stopping, because the Coach could get no farther, they came out, that they might [Page 113]fetch a walk upon the Banks of the Ri­ver.

The Mareschal loves not to keep long si­lence; but it is lucky for him, and for those that converse with him, that there is alwaies pleasure to hear him speak; and because play had so taken him up, that he had said no­thing almost all day, he fell immediately a discoursing of that, which most touched his heart. After some discourse on that subject; We must not look upon Kings, said he, with the same eyes as upon private persons, most of whom have no other design but to live at their ease; though a Man of Worth and Parts makes it alway more his business so to de­mean himself, as that he may gain Love and Esteem.

I know what Vain-glory is: A Gentleman minds it not, and the wiser despise it; yet I think that the more of Heart and Spirit one have, the more he esteems true Honour: and if there be any one who cannot reach that, though he may have otherways all that heart can desire, his condition notwithstanding is much to be lamented; at least if he be a man of a generous Soul: For minde it, of all the affronts that men can receive, those that strike at the Honour are least pardoned; and when one findes himself touched on that side, there is nothing so dear to him as its vindication. [Page 114]So to say the truth, it is not commodiousness of living that makes men so much aspire to great Employments and high Charges; for ones Life is thereby render'd more painful and unquiet; but it is the hope that one hath to make himself thereby appear deserving.

This notwithstanding in a private person cannot be but of small extent and short con­tinuance; but Kings are seen of all the world, and Posterity, which never flatters any, must judge of their merit: Glory is the most lovely part of their merit: Glory is the most lovely part of their fortune, and their chief concern. To that have all Heroes and Great Men de­voted themselves; and one had need be able, faithful, and zealous for them, who is to ad­vise and give them right counsels in that point; and especially he must know wherein true Glory consists, and by what means it is to be acquired.

It is reported that Parmenio, that great Captain, but who had no other end but Victory, advised his Master to surprise his Enemies by Stratagem, by reason of their vast number, and to set upon them under covert of Night: But that Prince, whose aim was not so much to win a Battle, as to make his Valour admired, would not fight but by day, being resolved to loose all, both Life and For­tune, rather than to put his Victory in danger of a blush. The same Parmenio advised him [Page 115]likewise to divide Asia with the Persians, and to accept of great Treasures that were offered him for an Accommodation. This Counsel was no better received than the other; his heart was too imperious to admit of a Rival, and too high to value Gold and Riches. His Projects tended only to glory, and if he hath not always known the most pure and solid, it is because he was but young, and on the top of his Fortune; which made him also under­take so many things, that he could not well see all that he did, and easily transported with Passion.

The least faults that great Princes are guilty of, do sometimes endanger their Reputation; and if they would believe me, I would put them in minde, often to consider with them­selves in what manner the greatest Kings would behave themselves, if they were to play their parts.

It is no bad carriage towards a Prince, to advise and counsel him to what is most Gene­rous, and even most Heroical. We see com­monly that he that doth so is most welcome to him; and when we look narrowly into the concerns of life, we finde that in all respects it is at last the best. It seems that Heaven and Destiny take a particular care of those great Souls that wholly resigne themselves. The bravest commonly prevail, and high Resolu­tion [Page 116]hath saved more, than it hath lost. The more that that King, that I was speaking of pursued Death, the more it fled from him; and if he was wounded, as it is impossible but he that continually throwes himself into dan­ger must sometimes be, yet it was without the loss either of Life or Victory.

Yet it is not to be wished that the Prince should be so venturous, and that he knew no other way but this to advance to glory: Though the risque of so precious a Life should not keep us in continual alarm, yet it seems below the grandeur of a great Prince to ex­pose himself on every Rencounter. And if you consider it well, that is not the thing that speaks most the greatness of Soul, and the contempt of Death. I think it much more gallant to meet it with a steddy and assured pace like Socrates, than to run headlong a­gainst it like Alexander. For this is calmly and without effort to do a most difficult act, which testifies a more setled and undaunted Resolution.

There are some Soveraigns who are always to be looked upon as grave and sage Politici­ans, and that in my minde is not the loveliest garb wherein they might appear: There is some other thing more noble, that would much better set them off. And can you ima­gineany thing more gallant for a young Prince, [Page 117]than Amours and Arms? That is indeed the subject of prettie Romances, answered the Che­valier; and when a Reign slips away without Loves or Wars, History will not have much to say of it. But all Princes are not born to play the parts one of another; and a Sove­reign doth always much, when he governs well his States, and renders his Subjects hap­py.

I have known Princes, replied the Mare­schal, who would have been very gallant men, if in the beginning men had minded their business with them, and if they had been put in the right way. This primary Education is to them of much greater importance than to private men; For so soon as they are out from under the conduct of a Governour, all that comes from them is approved of, at least in appearance: And no body appears before them, but to please them; because that al­though men may love them well, yet they easily incline to love their Friendship better. Besides, it would be a very imprudent thing, for one to run the hazard of his Princes dis­pleasure, by admonishing of him as a private man would his Friends, unless he had given some evidence that he desired it.

In the mean while those that are about them, and are not enslaved to interest, may finde ways secure enough to inform them [Page 118]pleasingly of all that may contribute to their Glory and Happiness. It is easie, said the Chevalier, to give good counsel as to what concerns Glory: men know what it is, and how it is to be acquired; in that all men of good judgement agree: but it is not so as to Happiness, which depends more on the tem­per and constitution, than on the things which we believe do produce it. And to tell truth, one must perfectly well know a Prince, to be able to assure him of what would render him happy. We our selves are very often at a loss to know what is proper to give us content.

You have reason, replied the Mareschal; but when one hath all things as it were that heart can wish, and that there is no more to be done, but to make a right choice; methinks with the least assistance it is no hard matter to be happy: and to say the truth, it is a fair way to it for one to perceive himself in the first rank amongst the Masters of the world; Fortune can bestow nothing greater. Consider what pleasure there is in Beneficience: to me there seems none more pure, hor noble; and this pleasure seems onely designed for great Princes; the more favours they bestow, the more they are in a condition of bestowing, seeing their Pre­sents that are attended with choice and esteem support their Grandeur, and render them more powerful. It is not Wealth and Riches [Page 119]which are chiefly to be expected from Kings, for they may be lavished away by Prodigality; but Charges and Employments, these are the occasions where men may give a proof of themselves: And if men of worth be imploy­ed in Charges that are proper for them, they both make themselves conspicuous, and ren­der their Prince good service.

That which ordinarily they want, is what we plentifully enjoy, that is, the pleasures which you know, of entertaining our selves freely with those whom we love, and the li­berty of reasoning about some certain advan­tages wherein Fortune and Grandeur have no share. The value of Merit, which so much affects ingenuous hearts, becomes to them in­sensible at long run, because men in differently praise whatever they do, without measure or decorum. It is a gallant and generous Com­plaisance that must render the life agreeable. And I cannot conceive how those Princes of the East, who live only amongst Slaves, can be happy: They have all, and enjoy nothing; they have the fairest Women in the world, but they are Captives always in prison, with­out Wit or Love; they have nothing of that which charms most, nothing free, brisk nor sparkling.

That Amorous Commerce, and that Vari­ety of gallant Adventures, which make men [Page 120]delight in the Courts of other Princes, and there study to approve themselves Gentlemen, are altogether unknown to them. All that is amongst them, are but wild and savage Ad­ventures which no body can love; and I am thinking of what you just now said, there happens always in these Countreys accidents of Love and War, but they are such, that I could defie Ariosto, Tasso, and even Sapho him­self to turn into a pleasing Romance. If it be happy to live in that manner, that felicity seems to me very barbarous, and I cannot think that a man of Sense could envy it. The greatest Pleasures ill managed, and without some mixture of Wit, or some sentiment of Honour, last but a short while; and this ought very well to comfort us, if we have not all we desire.

I observe also, that these Princes do more debase than raise themselves, by affecting a Grandeur which no body disputes them. There is a kind of Civility accompanied with Ma­jesty, that makes men with pleasure acknow­ledge some Princes to be their Masters, which is far more lovely: The more they condescend and draw near, the more the others stand off, but especially if they be Gentlemen, who never make the wrong use of any thing.

I think that the greatest men have been al­ways very free and familiar with their Friends. [Page 121] Caesar at least was so, said the Chevalier, and even with his Souldiers to that pass, that he took pleasure to repeat their good Words and Jests; that familiarity, which to speak truth was not unaccompanied, charmed them: So that when they were to fight for his glory, they met with nothing that appeared difficult, and valued neither Danger nor Death. If at any time any of them had been by chance taken Prisoners, and had Life offered them, they disdainfully refused it, saying, That it be­longed to Souldiers of Caesar to give quarter.

I wonder not then, said the Mareschal, that such a Man followed by such Souldiers, though weaker in number, obtained constant­ly the Victory: And what I was saying, that Heaven takes great Souls into its protection, is more apparent in this Heroe, who in so many Battles where he exposed himself in all places, he never received the least Wound.

Men love, said the Chevalier, Princes of great Designe and high Undertakings; and though Fortune fickle and unconstant (as we know by experience) forsake their party, yet glory never deserts them. Of this number was Caesar; he had nothing but what was Noble, and bore a character of Grandeur. He was so brave, and at the same time so kinde, that he would not have spared to have hazar­ded his person to succour the meanest of his [Page 122]Souldiers. All that followed his fortune were dear to him, and he shared with them the glory as well as the danger; and the gaining of their Love and Esteem was undoubtedly his surest way to win fifty Battles, without so much as the loss of one.

Some few days before that memorable Fight, where the Germans and those other Northern People were routed, he had sent Am­bassadours to their Prince Ariovistus, who con­trary to the Law of Nations detained them prisoners and put them in chains. Caesar told them, That he was not more glad of the Victory, than he was to have them in his arms, and to free them from their irons. But here is a passage that gives a great mark of his Temper, and of the great Esteem he was held in.

Curio, one of his Generals, was making war in another corner of the world; he was a young man of much Courage and little Ex­perience, who had to do with old Africans accomplished in the trade. This young man being drawn into an Ambush, and seeing that he could make his own escape, but that he wanted Prudence, or good Fortune, to save the Troops that Caesar had entrusted him with, chose rather to die than appear before him: Every word that Caesar utters concerning his Friend, seems attended with Sighs and Tears. [Page 123]Nor was it either any fear of hard usage, or of the least harsh check, that made Curio take so desperate a course; it was a certain senti­ment that makes us fear the sight of our Friends, when they are of so high a merit, and that we know they have no reason to ap­prove our actions.

Men raise or debase Worth, according as Affection or Hatred sways them, said the Ma­reschal, and Caesar well understood the way of purchasing Love. I remember of the banks of Lignon — where I took so much delight when I was young, and the answer of the O­racle;

That is a very sure way, at least if one do it with good grace. For it is not enough for us obsequiously to court the favour of People, the chief point is to manage our purpose so dex­terously, that the person whom we love may take it well. The manner of doing, which ought not to be so considerable, works more than all the rest; and I perceive that thereby the cunningest are catcht as well as the most simple. But I have quite forgotten where I was.

You need not much trouble your self for that, said the Chevalier; for you never leave a [Page 124]subject, without leaving men satisfied with what you have said, besides, a little negli­gence is very commodious, and there is no living with those who would be always so regular and exact. But I think you were speaking of Caesar, and I am considering that the most eloquent man of that time told him one day, That he had done more than van­quish his Enemies, he had overcome Victory it self; and that he had placed himself above it, by pardoning those who would have rui­ned him. That praise which he so justly de­served, gives me a great notion of him; but in one thing I am vexed with him, because he called us Barbarians. It is not I alone that takes that reproach impatiently; it hath so much offended one of our Romance makers, that he hath not spared to write, that Caesar was no great Cavalier. Ha, ha, yfaith I am glad at that, said the Mareschal, and he very well deserved it: for what reason could he have so to treat our Ancestours?

In the mean while, replied the Chevalier, that aspersion which hath made you laugh, is not so idle but that it may be maintained; and not to stand to examine what it is to be a Cava­lier, in the way that we understand it, one is more a Cavalier at a Princes Court, than in a Commonwealth. I am likewise of opinion, that the customes and practises of great [Page 125]Towns are not noble; you know that great men cannot endure them. There is some­what in the Country natural and wilde, which is still noble, though far different from the nobility of Courts; because there we see somewhat great and worthy, in its simple natural attire, without art and dress. Ima­gine to your self those dark and shady Forests of Africa, peopled with an infinite number of Lions and other wild beasts, all that appears to me more noble than the Grand Seignior's Gardens.

What you say, said the Mareschal inter­rupting him, makes me think that it is not enough when we discourse, or travel, to know whither we would go, nor to take the right way; but we must endeavour to become plea­sing and agreeable in it.

To return to Caesar: men take him to have been the greatest Man of the world; and I think to consider him every way, and in all his splendour, they have reason, as well for the wonders of his Life and Fortune, as the greatness of his Spirit and Vertue. Is it not he who so long ago hath left us the example and invention of whatever is rare and exqui­site in War? But may not we yet a little bet­ter know what kind of man he was? For people speak variously of him.

It is very hard, replied the Chevalier, to [Page 126]give a right judgement of those whom we have not seen, and who have lived in an age so far from us. But if there be any man who at so great a distance may be sifted and exa­mined, it is certainly Caesar. He hath done so many things, and his life though various is so even, that we see always a resemblance in his actions, and may even easily discover the cause of them. Politicians of his time also observed him, and freely and openly discanted on his actions. One of the sharpest wits of that Age, but who was perhaps too much wedded to the Laws of the City and of his Countrey, said, That there was never man who understood Justice better, nor any more unjust than Caesar. This shews on the one hand that he had a great and discerning judg­ment, as it is true on the other, that he had no great esteem for some common and ordi­nary Virtues.

The Writings that he hath left behind him, give a clear proof of his parts, and manner of proceeding, at least if they be his own; for there is a man of much reading, that would perswade me that he was not the Author of them. Who was then? said the Mareschal. Acertain unknown person, answer'd the Cheva­lier, yet I believe that it would have been more easie for that same unknown person to have conquered and made himself Master, than to [Page 127]have written in that strain. You know that in the matter of Conquests conjunctures can do much: but it must have been only Caesar who could express himself in that manner; and therein Chance can have no hand. His Merit and Grandeur is perceived in the least things he saies, not in speaking pompously, for on the contrary his Stile is simple and with­out ornaments; but in somewhat pure and noble, which flows from good education and a lofty genius.

These Masters of the world, who are in a manner above the reach of Fortune, look but indifferently on most part of things which we admire; and because they are but a little af­fected with them, do but carlesly discourse of them. In one place where he gives account that two or three of his Legions were for some time put into disorder, fighting against Pompey; It is believed, said he, that Caesar had been utterly undone, if Pompey had known how to win. That Victory would have de­cided the Roman Empire: And yet you see how few and very simple words he imploys on so great an occasion.

Caesar was born with two violent Passions, Ambition and Love, which hurried him a­way like two impetuous Torrents: the infinite number of designes which he hatched from his Infancy to the end of his Life (for he had a [Page 128]very restless spirit) tended only that way. Not but that he had a great many other Sentiments (that you understand) which makes mens company desirable and pleasing; since that to be a Gentleman, as we see Caesar was, one must have a share of all that can render the Life happy. But these two Passions chiefly swayed him; he was not very sensibly affected with any thing, but in as much as it might con­duce for the one or other: And though he hath been so great in War, yet he loved it not so much for it self, as for the advantage that he might have thereby to gain supremacy, and place himself over all.

He was liberal and grateful, fierce, but not revengeful: And that great Injustice where­with he was reproached, as the stain of so brave a Life, may be told in two words; that is, that he who of all the Romans was most proper for Government, desired by himself alone to manage well, what so many others discharged ill.

He was moreover tall, of a sweet and well-proportioned stature, and good meen; dex­terous at all the Exercises of Arms, and a good Horseman. He had a white and thin Skin, a black quick and sparkling Eye: his Voice was strong and piercing; and had great grace in his Speech: His Constitution was somewhat delicate, as of most who have such [Page 129]a spirit. Yet they say he got health by ne­glecting it, and by much exercise became in­defatigable.

In all places he had Amours, at Rome, in Spain, in Greece, and amongst the Gauls, but in Egypt he was in a manner enchanted; for what did he not for the Princess of that Countrey? And further in in Africa, was not he likewise in love with a Moorish Queen? He addressed himself alwaies to Ladies of the highest Quality; whether it be that the air of Grandeur addes some grace to natural Beauty, or that a sentiment of Ambition joyned with Love made him look on Ladies as on Conquests. He coveted it may be a little too much to be spoken of, and I pre­tend not to represent him to you as a man without fault; For who is he that can brag to be free from failings? But I speak of him as of an admirable Conquerour, and a vast Soul.

In the greatest heat and danger of War, he was alone the Joy and Hopes of his Army: All believed him so skilful and resolute, that under his Conduct they despaired of nothing: And a certain Chearfulness, that sparkled in his Eyes and Countenance, did comfort them on all occasions. If any were anxious con­cerning the events of undertakings, it was only for his sake; and few thought of survi­ving him.

He loved fine Cloaths, and his Ornaments made him always conspicuous, but chiefly in the day of Battle. He would have his Soul­diers also neat in their Apparel; and in my judgment it is a great mark that such men have sentiments of Honour, when they love to be in good equipage, and to take great care of their Arms. He was not much concerned that they should be tall, and of an advanta­geous stature. That indeed, said the Mare­schal, depends on fancy: we see but little appearance that such make themselves very remarkable. That great man was mistaken in nothing; and I wonder, how he could be at the same time a Prodigy both of Wit and Va­lour.

I should not be surprised at the extreme Courage of a brutish fellow, who knows nei­ther Pleasure nor Pain, nor what it is to be Alive or Dead: But for a man of so sensible and delicate a Temper, and of so subtile and elevated an Understanding, it seems to me very rare. Indeed that is much, said the Che­valier; yet we have nothing to wonder at, but the greatness of his Minde: For though one may finde himself very sensible of pain, and that he cannot accustome himself to die, yet when he hath brought his Heart to a steddie pitch of assurance, which is not hard to be done, he becomes as brave as he would desire [Page 131]to be; he spares himself if he judge it con­venient, and abandons himself after the same manner. An ordinary Impulse is enough to make one indifferently resolve upon the one or the other; and Caesar had always Glory be­fore his eyes, which made him still pursue the most Heroical part. I did not examine him that way, said the Mareschal, and I think you are in the right.

They continued till night upon the water­side, sometimes sitting, sometimes walking, and always discoursing of a great many mat­ters: but Historians never tell all.