ABILITY.

I. THE desire of appearing to be persons of ability often prevents our being so.

II. Some weak people are so sensible of their weakness, as to be able to make a good use of it.

III. The height of ability consists in a thorough knowledge of the real value of things, and of the genius of the age we live in. ^*

[Page 14] IV. It requires no small degree of abi­lity to know when to conceal it. ^*

V. Few men are able to know all the ill they do.

VI. There are some affairs, and distem­pers, which ill-timed remedies make worse; and great ability is requisite to know when it is dangerous to apply them. ^‖

ACCENT.

VII. The accent of a man's native country is as strongly impressed on his mind, as on his tongue.

ACCIDENTS.

VIII. No accidents are so unlucky, but that the prudent may draw some ad­vantage from them: nor are there any so lucky, but what the imprudent may turn to their prejudice.

IX. Accidents sometimes happen from which a man cannot well extricate himself without a spice of madness.

ACTIONS.

X. Great actions, the lustre of which dazzles us, are represented by politicians as the effects of deep [...] whereas they are commonly the effects of caprice and passion. Thus th [...] w [...] between Augustus and Antony, supposed to be owing to their ambition to give a master [Page 16]to the world, arose probably from jea­lousy. ^*

XI. Men may boast of their great ac­tions; but they are oftener the effect of chance, than of design.

XII. Our actions may seem to be un­der the influence of good or bad stars, to which they owe the praise or blame they meet with. ^†

XIII. How brilliant soever an action may be, it ought not to pass for great when it is not the effect of great design.

XIV. A certain proportion should be observed between our designs and actions, if we would reap from them the advan­tage they might produce.

XV. Our actions are like the jingle [Page 17]of rhime, which every one repeats in his own manner.

XVI. We should often be ashamed of our best actions, if the world were wit­ness to the motives which produce them.

XVII. To praise great actions with sincerity, may be said to be taking part in them.

ADVICE.

XVIII. There is nothing of which we are so liberal as of advice.

XIX. Nothing is less sincere than our manner of asking and of giving advice. He who asks advice would seem to have a respectful deference for the opinion of his friend; whilst yet he only aims at getting his own approved of, and his friend re­sponsible for his conduct. On the other hand, he who gives it, repays the confi­dence supposed to be placed in him by a seemingly disinterested zeal, whilst he sel­dom means any thing by the advice he gives but his own interest or reputation. ^*

[Page 18] XX. There is near as much ability requisite to know how to make use of good advice, as to know how to act for one's self.

XXI. We may give advice; but we cannot give conduct.

AFFECTATION.

XXII. We are never made so ridicu­lous by the qualities we have, as by those we affect to have.

XXIII. We had better appear to be what we are, than affect to appear what we are not.

AFFLICTION.

XXIV. Whatever we may pretend, interest and vanity are the usual sources of our afflictions.

XXV. There are in affliction several kinds of hypocrisy. Under the pretence [Page 19]of weeping for the loss of one who was dear to us, we weep for ourselves: we weep over the diminution of our fortune, of our pleasure, of our importance. Thus have the dead the honour of tears which stream only for the living. I call this a sort of hypocrisy, because we impose on ourselves. There is another hypocrisy, which is less innocent, because it imposes on the world. This is the affliction of such as aspire to the glory of a great and immortal sorrow: when time, which con­sumes all things, has worn out the grief which they really had, they still persist in their tears, lamentations, and sighs. They assume a mournful behaviour; and labour, by all their actions, to demonstrate that their affliction will not in the least abate till death. This disagreeable, this troublesome vanity is common among am­bitious women. As the sex bars all the paths to glory, they endeavour to render themselves celebrated by the ostentation of an inconsolable affliction. There is yet another species of tears, whose shallow springs easily overflow, and as easily day [Page 20]away: we weep, to acquire the reputation of being tender; we weep, in order to be pitied; we weep, that we may be wept over; we even weep, to avoid the scandal of not weeping.

XXVI. We sometimes lose friends whom we regret more than we grieve for; and others for whom we grieve, yet do not regret.

XXVII. Most women lament not the death of their lovers so much out of real affection, as because they would appear to be the more worthy of having been beloved.

AGE.

XXVIII. Most people, as they ap­proach old age, show in what manner their body and mind will decay. ^*

XXIX. We arrive novices at the dif­ferent ages of life; and want experience, [Page 21]though we have had many years to gain it. ^‖

AGREEABLENESS.

XXX. We judge so superficially of things, that common words and actions, spoke and done in an agreeable manner, with some knowledge of what passes in the world, often succeed beyond the greatest ability. ^*

XXXI. We may say of agreeableness, as distinct from beauty, that it is a symme­try whose rules are unknown; it is a secret conformity of the feat [...]es to one another, to the complexion, to the carriage.

AMBITION.

XXXII. The ambitious deceive them­selves in proposing an end to their ambiti­on; for that end, when attained, becomes a means.

XXXIII. When great men suffer themselves to be subdued by the length of their misfortunes, they discover that the strength of their ambition, not of their understanding, was that which sup­ported them. They discover too, that, allowing for a little vanity, heroes are just like other men.

XXXIV. The greatest ambition en­tirely conceals itself, when it finds that what it aspired to is unattainable.

XXXV. What seems to be generosity is often no more than disguised ambition; which overlooks little interests, in order to gratify great ones.

XXXVI. Moderation must not claim the merit of combating and conquering ambition; for they can never exist in the same subject. Moderation is the languor [Page 23]and sloth of the soul; ambition its activity and ardour.

XXXVII. We pass often from love to ambition: but we seldom return from ambition to love.

APPLICATION.

XXXVIII. Those who apply them­selves too much to little things, common­ly become incapable of great ones.

XXXIX. Few things are impractica­ble in themselves; and it is for want of application, rather than of means, that men fail of success.

APPEARANCE.

XL. In every profession, every indivi­dual affects to appear what he would wil­lingly be esteemed: so that we may say, The world is composed of nothing but appearances.

AVARICE.

XLI. Misers mistake gold for their [Page 24]good; whereas it is only a mean of attain­ing it. ^*

XLII. Avarice is more opposite to oeconomy than liberality.

XLIII. Extreme avarice almost always makes mistakes. There is no passion that oftener misses its aim; nor on which the present has so much influence, in preju­dice of the future.

XLIV. Avarice often produces con­trary effects. There are many people who sacrifice their whole fortunes to du­bious and distant expectations; there are others who contemn great future for little present advantages.

BENEFITS.

XLV. We like better to see those on whom we confer benefits, than those from whom we receive them.

XLVI. Men are not only apt to for­get benefits and injuries; but even to hate those who have obliged them, and to cease to hate those who have injured them. The very attention to requite kindnesses, and revenge wrongs, seems to be an insupportable slavery. ^*

XLVII. Every body takes pleasure in returning small obligations; many go so far as to acknowledge moderate ones: but there is hardly any one who does not re­pay great obligations with ingratitude.

BUSINESS.

XLVIII. The rust of business is some­times polished off in a camp; but never in a court.

CIVILITY.

XLIX. Civility is a desire to receive civility, and to be accounted well-bred.

CLEMENCY.

L. The clemency of princes is often policy, to gain the affections of their sub­jects. ^*

LI. That clemency we make a virtue of proceeds sometimes from vanity, some­times from indolence, often from fear, and almost always from a mixture of all three. ^‖

CONDUCT.

LII. That conduct often seems ridi­culous, the secret reasons of which are wise and solid. ^*

LIII. A man often imagines he acts, [Page 28]when he is acted upon; and while his mind aims at one thing, his heart insensi­bly gravitates towards another.

CONFIDENCE.

LIV. In conversation confidence has a greater share than wit.

LV. The desire of being pitied, or admired, is commonly the true reason of our confidence.

LVI. The constancy of the wise is on­ly the art of keeping their disquietudes to themselves.

LVII. We all bear the misfortunes of other people with an heroic constancy.

LVIII. Criminals at their execution affect sometimes a constancy, and con­tempt of death, which is, in fact, nothing more than the fear of facing it. Their constancy may be said to be to the mind, what the fillet is to their eyes.

LIX. Constancy in love is perpetual inconstancy: it attaches us successively to all the good qualities of the person belov­ed, giving sometimes the preference to one, sometimes to another. So that this [Page 29]constancy is no more than inconstancy confined to a single object.

LX. In love, there are two sorts of constancy; one arises from our continual­ly finding in the favourite object fresh motives to love; the other from our mak­ing it a point of honour to be constant.

LXI. In misfortunes we often mis­take dejection for constancy: we bear them, without daring to look on them; as cowards suffer themselves to be killed without resistance.

CONTEMPT.

LXII. We sometimes condemn the present by praising the past; we shew our contempt of what now is, by our esteem for what is no more. ^*

[Page 30] LXIII. None but the contemptible are apprehensive of contempt.

CONVERSATION.

LXIV. One reason why we meet with so few people who are reasonable and agreeable in conversation is, that there is scarce any body who does not think more of what he has to say, than of answering what is said to him. Even those who have the most address and politeness think they do enough if they only seem to be attentive; at the same time their eyes and their minds betray a distraction as to what is addressed to them, and an impatience to return to what they themselves were saying: not reflecting that to be thus stu­dious of pleasing themselves is but a poor way of pleasing or convincing others; and that to hear patiently, and answer precise­ly, are the great perfections of conversa­tion. ^†

COPIES.

LXV. The only good copies are those which point out the ridicule of bad ori­ginals.

COQUETRY.

LXVI. It is a sort of coquetry, to boast that we never coquet.

LXVII. All women are coquets, tho' all do not practise coquetry: some are re­strained by fear, some by reason.

LXVIII. Women are not aware of the extent of their coquetry.

LXIX. Women find it more difficult to get the better of their coquetry than of their love.

LXX. The greatest miracle of love is the reformation of a coquet.

[Page 32] LXXI. We are always afraid of ap­pearing before the person we love when we have been coqueting elsewhere. ^‖

LXXII. Coquets take a pride in ap­pearing to be jealous of their lovers, in order to conceal their being envious of other women.

CRIMES.

LXXIII. There are crimes which be­come innocent, and even glorious, thro' their splendor, number, and excess: hence it is, that public theft is called address; and to seize unjustly on provinces, is to make conquests. ^§

[Page 33] LXXIV. We easily forget crimes that are known only to ourselves. ^*

LXXV. There are people of whom we never believe ill till we see it: but there are none we ought to be surprized at when we do see it.

LXXVI. Those who are themselves incapable of great crimes are not ready to suspect others of them.

CUNNING.

LXXVII. The greatest of all cunning is, to seem blind to the snares laid for us; men are never so easily deceived as while they are endeavouring to deceive others. ^†

LXXVIII. Those who have most cunning for ever affect to condemn cun­ning, that they may make use of it on [Page 34]some great occasion, and to some great end.

LXXIX. The common practice of cunning is no sign of genius; it almost al­ways happens that those who use it to co­ver themselves in one place, lay themselves open in another.

LXXX. Cunning and treachery pro­ceed from want of capacity.

LXXXI. The sure way to be cheated is, to fancy ourselves more cunning than others.

LXXXII. We are angry with those who trick us, because they appear to have more wit than ourselves.

LXXXIII. One man may be more cunning than another, but not more cun­ning than all the world.

LXXXIV. Those who are deceived by our cunning appear not near so ridicu­lous to us, as we seem to ourselves when deceived by the cunning of others.

CURIOSITY.

LXXXV. There are two kinds of cu­riosity. One arises from interest, which [Page 35]makes us desirous to learn what may be useful to us; the other from pride, which makes us desire to know what others are ignorant of. ^*

DEATH.

LXXXVI. Few people are well ac­quainted with Death. It is generally submitted to through stupidity and cus­tom, not resolution: most mer die mere­ly because they cannot help it.

LXXXVII. Death and the sun are not to be looked at steadily.

LXXXVIII. After having spoken of the falsity of seeming virtues, it is proper to say something about the falsity of the contempt of death: I mean that contempt [Page 36]of death which the heathens boasted to derive from their natural strength, unsup­ported by the hopes of a better life. There is a wide difference between suffer­ing death courageously, and contemning it: the one is common enough; but the other, I believe, never sincere. Every thing has been written that can persuade us that death is no evil; and some of the weakest as well as the greatest of men have given celebrated examples in con­firmation of this tenet. Yet I doubt whether any person of good sense ever be­lieved it; and the pains we take to per­suade ourselves and others of it plainly e­vince that it is no easy task. A man may, for many reasons, be disgusted with life; but he can have no reason for contemning death. Even suicides esteem it no slight matter, and are as much startled at it, and decline it as much as other people, when it comes in any other shape except that which they have chosen. The remarka­ble inequality in the courage of many va­liant men proceeds from death's appearing differently to their imaginations, and [Page 37]seeming more instant at one time than a­nother. By this means it happens, that, after having contemned what they did not know, they are at last afraid of what they do know. We must avoid considering death in all its circumstances, if we would not think it the greatest of all ills. The wisest and bravest are those who make the best pretences for not considering it at all: for every one that views it in its proper light will find it sufficiently terrible. The necessity of dying made the whole of phi­losophic fortitude. The philosophers thought it best to do that with a good grace which was not to be avoided; and, being unable to make themselves immor­tal, they did all they could to immortalize their reputations, and save what they might out of the general wreck. To be able to put a good face on the matter, let us by no means discover even to ourselves all we think about it; let us trust rather to constitution, than to those vain reason­ings which make us believe we can ap­proach death with indifference. The glory of dying resolutely, the hopes of be­ing [Page 38]regretted, the desire of leaving a fair reputation, the assurance of being deliver­ed from the miseries of life, and freed from the caprice of fortune, are alleviat­ing reflections, not to be rejected: but we must by no means imagine them infalli­ble. These serve indeed to embolden us, just as in war a poor hedge emboldens the soldiers to approach an incessant fir­ing. At a distance, they view it as a shelter; when they come up, they find it but a sorry defence. We flatter ourselves too much, in fancying that death, when near, will appear what we judged it to be when distant; and that our opinions, which are weakness itself, will be firm e­nough not to give way on this severest of trials. We must be also but ill-acquain­ted with the effects of self-love, to ima­gine that that will permit us to think lightly of an action which must necessarily be its destruction. Reason, from whom we expect mighty assistance, is too feeble, on this occasion, to make us believe what we wish to find true. It is she, on the contrary, who betrays us; and, instead of [Page 39]inspiring a contempt of death, helps only to discover its horrors. Indeed all she can do for us is, to advise us to avert our eyes, and six them on some other object. Cato and Brutus chose noble ones. A footman, some time since, amused himself with dancing upon the scaffold he was going to be broken on. Thus different motives sometimes produce the same ef­fect. And so true it is, that whatever dis­proportion there may be between the great and the vulgar, we often see them meet death with the same countenance: but there is always this difference, that the contempt of death shewn by heroes is owing to their love of glory, which hides it from their sight; and in common peo­ple it proceeds merely from their want of sensibility, which prevents their being a­ware of the greatness of the evil, and leaves them at liberty to think of some­thing else. ^*

DECEIT.

LXXXIX. To be deceived by our e­nemies, and betrayed by our friends, is [Page 41]not to be borne; yet are we often content to be served so by ourselves.

XC. It is as easy to deceive ourselves without our perceiving it, as it is difficult to deceive others without their perceiving it.

XCI. A resolution never to deceive exposes a man to be deceived himself.

XCII. Dulness is sometimes a suffici­ent security against the attack of an artful man. ^*

XCIII. He who imagines he can do without the world deceives himself much; but he who fancies the world cannot do without him is still more mistaken.

[Page 42] XCIV. In love, the deceit almost al­ways outstrips the distrust.

XCV. We are sometimes less unhap­py in being deceived, than in being unde­ceived by those we love. ^*

XCVI. Should even our friends de­ceive us, though we have a right to be indifferent to their professions of friend­ship, we ought ever to retain a sensibility for their misfortunes.

DECENCY.

XCVII. Decency is the least of all laws, but the most strictly observed.

DESIRE.

XCVIII. It is much easier to suppress a first desire, than to satisfy those that follow.

[Page 43] XCIX. Before we passionately wish for any thing, we should examine into the happiness of its possessor.

C. Were we perfectly acquainted with the object, we should never passion­ately desire it. ^*

DISGUISE.

CI. Were we to take as much pains to be what we ought, as we do to disguise what we are, we might appear like our­selves, without being at the trouble of any disguise at all.

CII. We are so used to disguise our­selves to others, that at last [...]ve become disguised even to ourselves.

CIII. Some disguised falsehoods are so like truths, that it would be judging ill not to be deceived by them.

DISTRUST.

CIV. Our own distrust justifies the deceit of others. ^†

[Page 44] CV. That which commonly hinders us from shewing the openness of our hearts to friends, is not so much a distrust of them, as of ourselves.

CVI. Whatever distrust we may have of the sincerity of other people, we al­ways believe that they are more ingenu­oua with ourselves than with any body else.

EASE.

CVII. A man who finds not satisfac­tion in himself seeks for it in vain else­where.

EDUCATION.

CVIII. Common education instills into young people a second self-love.

ELOQUENCE.

CIX. There is as much eloquence in [Page 45]the tone of voice, in the look, and in the gesture of an orator, as in the choice of his words. ^*

CX. True eloquence consists in say­ing all that is proper, and nothing more.

EMPLOYMENT.

CXI. It is easier to appear worthy of the employments we are not possessed of, than of those we are.

CXII. We may appear great in an em­ployment below our merit; but we often appear little in one that is too high for us. ^‖

ENVY.

CXIII. Those who endeavour to imi­tate us we like much better than those who endeavour to equal us. Imitation is a sign of esteem, but competition of envy. ^‖

CXIV. We often glory in the most criminal passions; but the passion of envy is so shameful, that we never dare to own it.

CXV. Jealousy is, in some sort, rati­onal and just; it aims at the preservation of a good which belongs, or which at least we think belongs to us; whereas envy is a phrenzy, that cannot bear the good of others.

CXVI. Our approbation of those who are entering upon the world is often ow­ing [Page 47]to a secret envy of those who are well settled in it.

CXVII. Pride, which excites envy, often helps us to moderate it.

CXVIII. Envy is more irreconcilea­ble than hatred.

CXIX. Envy is destroyed by true friendship, and coquetry by true love.

CXX. Our envy always outlives the felicity of its object.

CXXI. More people are free from in­terest, than from envy.

EXAMPLE.

CXXII. Nothing is so contagious as example: never is any considerable good or ill done that does not produce its like. We imitate good actions through emulati­on; and bad ones through a malignity in our nature, which shame concealed, and example sets at liberty.

FAMILIARITY.

CXXIII. Familiarity is a suspension of almost all the laws of civility; liberti­nism [Page 48]has introduced it into society under the notion of Ease.

FAVOURITES.

CXXIV. The hatred of favourites is nothing more than the love of favour. Our indignation at not possessing it our­selves is soothed and mitigated by the contempt we express for those who do; and we refuse them our homage, because we are not able to deprive them of that which procures them the homage of eve­ry one else.

FAULTS.

CXXV. We need not be much con­cerned about those faults which we have the courage to own.

CXXVI. We acknowledge our faults, in order to repair by sincerity the hurt they do us in the opinion of others.

CXXVII. We confess small faults in order to insinuate that we have no great ones.

CXXVIII. A great genius will sin­cerely [Page 49]acknowledge his defects as well as his perfections: it is a weakness, not to own the ill as well as the good that is in us.

CXXIX. Had we no faults ourselves, we should take less [...] in observing those of others.

CXXX. We are often more agreea­ble through our faults, than through our good qualities.

CXXXI. The greatest faults are those of Great Men.

CXXXII. Dishonest men conceal their faults from themselves as well as o­thers: honest men know, and confess them.

CXXXIII. There are some faults which, when well managed, make a greater figure than virtue itself.

CXXXIV. We are not bold enough to say in general, that we have no faults, and that our enemies have no good quali­ties; but in particulars we seem to think so.

CXXXV. We have few faults that [Page 50]are not more excusable in themselves than the means we use to con [...]al them.

CXXXVI. We boast of faults that are the opposites to those we really have; thus, if we are irresolute, we glory in be­ing thought obstinate.

CXXXVII. We easily excuse in our friends those faults that do not affect us.

CXXXVIII. We endeavour to get reputation by those faults we determine not to amend.

CXXXIX. It seems as if men thought they had not faults enow, for they in­crease their number by certain affected singularities; these are cultivated so care­fully, that at last they become natural de­fects, beyond their power to reform.

FEAR.

CXL. Few cowards know the extent of their fears.

FIDELITY.

CXLI. The fidelity of most men is one of the arts of self-love, to procure [Page 51]confidence. It is the means to raise us above others, by mai [...]ng us the deposita­ries of momentous concerns.

CXLII. It is more difficult to be faithful to a mistress when on good terms with her, than when on bad.

FLATTERY.

CXLIII. We should have but little pleasure were we never to flatter ourselves.

CXLIV. Did we not flatter ourselves, the flattery of others could never hurt us. ^*

CXLV. Flattery is a sort of bad mo­ney, to which our vanity gives currency.

CXLVI. Men sometimes think they hate flattery; but they hate only the man­ner of it.

FOLLY.

CXLVII. Folly attends us close thro' life. If any one seems to be wise, it is [Page 52]merely because his follies are proportion­ate to his age and fortune.

CXLVIII. He who lives without fol­ly is not so wise as he imagines.

CXLIX. As we grow old, we grow more foolish and more wise.

CL. It is great folly to affect to be wise by one's self.

CLI. Some follies are like contagious distempers.

CLII. Old fools are more foolish than young ones.

CLIII. There are people fated to be fools; they not only commit follies by choice, but are even constrained to do so by fortune.

CLIV. No fools are so troublesome as those who have some wit.

FORTUNE.

CLV. Whatever difference may ap­pear in mens fortunes, there is neverthe­less a certain compensation of good and ill, that makes all equal. ^†

[Page 53] CLVI Fortune turns every thing to the advantage of her favourites. ^§

CLVII. The happiness and misery of men depend no less on temper than for­tune. ^*

CLVIII. Fortune breaks us of many faults, which reason cannot. ^†

CLIX. The generality of people judge of us by our reputation, or fortune ^‖

CLX. To be great, we must know [Page 54]how to push our fortune to the utmost.

CLXI. Fortune exhibits our virtues and vices, as the light shews objects. ^*

CLXII. Fortune is ever deemed blind by those on whom she bestows no favours.

CLXIII. To be able to answer for what we shall certainly do, we should be able to answer for our fortune.

CLXIV. We should manage our for­tune like our constitution; enjoy it when good, have patience when bad, and never apply violent remedies but in cases of ne­cessity.

CLXV. Fortune and caprice govern the world.

FRIENDSHIP.

CLXVI. What is commonly called friendship is no more than a partnership; a reciprocal regard for one another's in­terests, and an exchange of good offices; in a word, a mere traffic, wherein self-love always proposes to be a gainer.

CLXVII. Though most of the friend­ships of the world ill deserve the name of friendships; yet a man may make use of them occasionally, as of a traffic whose returns are uncertain, and in which it is usual to be cheated.

CLXVIII. In the distress of our best friends we always find something that does not displease us. ^†

[Page 56] CLXIX. The reason we are so change­able in our friendships is, that it is diffi­cult to know the qualities of the heart, and easy to know those of the head.

CLXX. We love nothing but on our own account, and only follow our taste and inclination when we prefer our friends to ourselves; and yet it is this preference that alone constitutes true and perfect friendship.

CLXXI. It is more dishonourable to distrust a friend, than to be deceived by him.

CLXXII. We often imagine we love men in power; but interest alone is the true reason of our friendship for them: we espouse not their party to do them good, but from their hands to receive good. ^*

[Page 57] CLXXIII. Self-love magnifies, or di­minishes, the good qualities of our friends, in proportion to the satisfaction we take in them; and we judge of their merit by the terms they keep with us.

CLXXIV. We sometimes lightly com­plain of our friends, to be beforehand in justifying our own levity.

CLXXV. We are not much afflicted at the misfortunes of our friends, when they give us an opportunity of signalizing our affection for them.

CLXXVI. We are fond of exaggera­ting the love our friends bear us; but it is often less from a principle of gratitude, than the desire of prejudicing people in favour of our own merit.

CLXXVII. We always love those who admire us; but we do not always love those whom we admire.

CLXXVIII. Rare as true love is, it is less so than true friendship.

[Page 58] CLXXIX. The reason why few wo­men give into friendship is, that friend­ship is insipid to those who have experi­enced love. ^*

CLXXX. In friendship, as in love, we are often happier through our igno­rance, than knowledge.

CLXXXI. It is very difficult to love those we do not esteem; and it is at least as difficult to love those whom we esteem much more than we do ourselves.

CLXXXII. We are much nearer lo­ving those who hate us, than those who love us more than we desire.

CLXXXIII. The greatest effort of friendship is, not the discovery of our faults to a friend, but the endeavouring to make him see his own.

CLXXXIV. The charm of novelty, and long habit, opposite as they are, e­qually conceal from us the faults of our friends.

[Page 59] CLXXXV. The generality of friends put us out of conceit with friendship; as the generality of religious people put us out of conceit with religion.

CLXXXVI. Nothing is more natural, nor more fallacious, than a belief that we are beloved.

CLXXXVII. Renewed friendships re­quire more conduct than those that have never been broken.

GALLANTRY.

CLXXXVIII. Though there are ma­ny women who never have had one in­trigue; there are scarce any who have had no more than one.

CLXXXIX. We seldom talk of a woman's first intrigue before she has had a second.

CXC. Love is the smallest part of gallantry.

GLORY.

CXCI. The glory of great men ought always to be rated according to the means used to acquire it.

[Page 60] CXCII. We exalt the reputation of some, to depress that of others; nor should we always extol so much the prince of Conde and marshal Turenne, had we not a mind to blame both. ^*

CXCIII. It is as commendable to be proud with respect to one's self, as ridicu­lous to be so with respect to others. ^‖

CXCIV. We are unwilling to lose our lives, and yet would fain acquire glo­ry. H [...]nce it is, that the brave use more dexterity to avoid death, than men versed in the chicanery of law do to preserve their estates.

GOODNESS.

CXCV. Nothing is more rare than true goodness: even those who imagine they possess it having nothing more than complaisance, or weakness.

CXCVI. It is very difficult to distin­guish diffusive general goodness from great address.

[Page 61] CXCVII. None deserve the name of good, who nave not spirit enough, at least, to be bad: goodness being for the most part but indolence, or impotence. ^†

CXCVIII. A sool has not stuff enough to make a good man.

CXCIX. Resolute people alone can be truly good-natured; such as commonly seem so are weak and easily soured.

GOOD SENSE.

CC. Good sense should be the tast of all rules, both ancient and modern; what­ever is incompatible with good sense is false.

GOVERN.

CCI. It is more difficult to prevent being governed, than to govern others. ^*

GREAT MEN.

CCII. Since great men cannot bestow health of body, nor peace of mind, we certainly pay too dear for all that they can bestow.

GRAVITY.

CCIII. Gravity is a mysterious carri­age of the body, invented to cover the desects of the mind. ^*

GRACE.

CCIV. A good grace is to the body what good sense is to the mind. ^§

GREEDINESS.

CCV. An able man will arrange his interests, and conduct each in its proper order. Our greediness often hurts us, by making us prosecute so many things at once; by too earnestly desiring the less considerable, we lose the more important.

GRATITUDE.

CCVI. It is with gratitude as with honesty among traders, it helps to carry on business; and we pay, not because we ought, but in order to find easier credit another time.

[Page 64] CCVII. Not all who discharge their debts of gratitude should flatter themselves that they are grateful.

CCVIII. The reason of the mi [...]k­oning in expected returns of gratitude is, that the pride of the giver and receiver can never agree about the value of the obligation.

CCIX. There is a certain warmth of gratitude, which not only acquits us of favours received, but even, while we are repaying our friends what we owed, makes them our debtors. ^†

CCX. The gratitude of most men is only a secret desire to receive greater fa­vours.

HAPPINESS.

CCXI. None are either so happy or so unhappy as they imagine.

CCXII. We take less pains to be hap­py, than to appear so.

[Page 65] CCXIII. Happiness is in the taste, not in the thing; and we are made happy by possessing what we ourselves love, not what others think lovely. ^*

HATRED.

CCXIV. When our hatred is violent, it sinks us even beneath those we hate. ^‖

HEART.

CCXV. Every body speaks well of his heart, but no one dares to speak well of his head.

CCXVI. Men are sometimes well-acquainted with their head, when they are not so with their heart.

[Page 66] CCXVII. The head is always the dupe of the heart. ^§

CCXVIII. The head cannot long act the part of the heart.

[Page 67] CCXIX. The imagination cannot in­vent so many contrarieties as are natural­ly in the heart of man.

HEROES.

CCXX. Nature may give very great advantages; but she must have the con­currence of Fortune, to make Heroes.

CCXXI. There are Heroes in ill, as well as in good. ^*

HONOUR.

CCXXII. One acquired honour is surety for more.

HOPE.

CCXXIII. Hope, deceitful as it is, carries us agreeably through life. ^†

HUMOUR.

CCXXIV. Our own caprice is more extravagant than the caprice of fortune.

CCXXV. Fancy sets the value on the gifts of fortune.

CCXXVI. Our humour is more in fault than our understanding.

CCXXVII. We may say of the tem­per of men, as of most buildings, that it has several aspects; of which some are ve­ry agreeable, some disagreeable.

CCXXVIII. The humours of the bo­dy have a regular stated course which in­sensibly influences the will; they circu­late, and successively exercise a secret power over us. In short they have a con­siderable share in all our actions, though we perceive it not.

CCXXIX. Madmen and fools see e­very thing through the medium of hu­mour. ^*

CCXXX. The calm or disquiet of our temper depends not so much on af­fairs [Page 69]of moment, as on the disposition of the trifles that daily occur.

HYPROCRISY.

CCXXXI. Hypocrisy is the homage that vice pays to virtue.

IDLENESS.

CCXXXII. It is a mistake to imagine, that the violent passions only, such as am­bition and love, can triumph over the rest. Idleness, languid as it is, often masters them all; she indeed influences all our designs and actions, and insensibly con­sumes and destroys both passions and virtues.

CCXXXIII. Idleness, timidity, and shame, often keep us within the bounds of duty; whilst virtue seems to run away with the honour. ^†

[Page 70] CCXXXIV. Idleness is more in the mind than in the body.

JEALOUSY.

CCXXXV. Under some circumstan­ces it may not be disagreeable to a man to have a jealous wife; for she will always be talking of what pleases him.

CCXXXVI. Only such persons who avoid giving jealousy are deserving of it.

CCXXXVII. Jealousy is always born with love, but does not always die with it.

CCXXXVIII. Jealousy is nourished by doubt; it either becomes madness, or ceases, as soon as we arrive at certainty.

CCXXXIX. In jealousy there is less love than self-love. ^†

CCXL. There is a species of love whose excess prevents jealousy.

CCXLI. Jealousy is the greatest of [Page 71]evils, and the least pitied by those who occasion it.

ILLS.

CCXLII. Philosophy easily triumphs over past and future ills; but present ills triumph over philosophy.

CCXLIII. The good we have received from a man should make us bear with the ill he does us.

CCXLIV. It is less dangerous to do ill to most men, than to do them too much good. ^*

CCXLV. A readiness to believe ill without examination is the effect of pride and laziness. We are willing to find peo­ple guilty, and unwilling to be at the trouble of examining into the accusation.

CCXLVI. Weakness often gets the better of those ills which reason could not.

INCONSTANCY.

CCXLVII. There is an inconstancy that proceeds from the levity or weakness of the mind, which makes it give into e­very one's opinions: and there is another inconstancy, more excusable, which arises from satiety.

INGRATITUDE.

CCXLVIII. An extraordinary haste to discharge an obligation is a sort of in­gratitude.

CCXLIX. There are some ungrate­ful people who are less to be blamed for their ingratitude than their benefactors.

CCL. We seldom find people un­grateful so long as we are in a condition to serve them.

CCLI. It is no great misfortune to o­blige ungrateful people, but an insupport­able one to be forced to be under an ob­ligation to a scoundrel.

INFIDELITY.

CCLII. Women in love more easily forgive great indiscretions than small in­fidelities.

CCLIII. We find it more difficult to overlook the least infidelity to ourselves, than the greatest to others.

INNOCENCE.

CCLIV. Innocence finds not near so much protection as guilt.

INTEREST.

CCLV. Interest speaks all languages, and acts all parts, even that of disinterest­edness itself.

CCLVI. Interest, which blinds some people, enlightens others.

CCLVII. The name of virtue is as serviceable to interest as vice.

CCLVIII. Interest puts in motion all the virtues and vices.

CCLIX. Good-nature, that boaster of [Page 74]its great sensibility, is often stifled by the smallest interest.

CCLX. We condemn vice, and ex­tol virtue, merely through interest.

CCLXI. It is only in little interests that we usually venture to disbelieve ap­pearances.

INTREPIDITY.

CCLXII. Intrepidity is an extraordi­nary strength of soul, that renders it supe­rior to the trouble, disorder, and emoti­on, which the appearance of danger is apt to excite. By this quality heroes main­tain their tranquillity, and preserve the free use of their reason, in the most sur­prizing and dreadful accidents.

JUDGEMENT.

CCLXIII. Every one complains of the badness of his memory, but nobody of his judgement.

JUSTICE.

CCLXIV. The love of justice, in [Page 75]most men, is the fear of suffering by in­justice.

KNOWLEDGE.

CCLXV. To know things well, we should know them in detail; and as that is in a manner infinite, our knowledge is always superficial and imperfect.

LIBERALITY.

CCLXVI. What we call liberality is seldom more than the vanity of giving: we are fonder of the vanity than the ge­nerosity of the action. ^*

LOVE.

CCLXVII. No disguise can long con­ceal love where it is, nor feign it where it is not.

CCLXVIII. Since it is not in our power to love any more than to let it a­lone, a lover has no right to complain of [Page 76]his mistress's inconstancy, nor she of her lover's levity.

CCLXIX. It is difficult to define love: we may say of it, however, that in the soul it is a desire to reign, in min [...]s it is a sympathy, and in bodies a secret in­clination to enjoy what we love after ma­ny difficulties. ^†

CCLXX. To judge of love by most of its effects, one would think it more like hatred than kindness. ^§

CCLXXI. There are few people who are not ashamed of their amours when the fit is over.

CCLXXII. There is only one sort of [Page 77]love, but there a thousand different conies of it.

CCLXXIII. Love, like fire, cannot subsist without continual motion; it cea­ses to exist, as soon as it ceases to hope or fear.

CCLXXIV. Love lends his name to many a correspondence wherein he is no more concerned than the doge in what is done at Venice.

CCLXXV. The more you love your mistress, the readier you are to hate her.

CCLXXVI. To love, is the least fault of the woman who has abandoned herself to love. ^*

CCLXXVII. There are people who [Page 78]would never have been in love, had they never heard talk of it.

CCLXXVIII. The pleasure of loving is, to love; and we are much happier in the passion we feel, than in that we excite.

CCLXXIX. To fall in love, is much easier than to get rid of it.

CCLXXX. Novelty to love is like the bloom to fruit; it gives a lustre, which is easily eff [...]ced, but never returns.

CCLXXXI. It is impossible to love those a second time whom we have real­ly ceased to love.

CCLXXXII. We forgive, as long as we love.

CCLXXXIII. In love, we often doubt of what we most believe.

CCLXXXIV. The man who thinks he loves his mistress for her sake is much mistaken.

CCLXXXV. Young women who would not appear coquets, and old men who would not be ridiculous, should ne­ver speak of love as of a thing that in any wise concerns them.

CCLXXXVI. A woman keeps her [Page 79]first lover long, if she happens not take a second.

CCLXXXVII. In love, those who are first cured are best cured.

CCLXXXVIII. All the passions make us commit faults; but love makes us guil­ty of the most ridiculous ones.

CCLXXXIX. In the old age of love, as in that of life, we continue to live to pain, though we cease to live to pleasure.

CCXC. There are many cures for love; but not one of them infallible.

CCXCI. Love, all-agreeable as he is, pleases yet more by the manner in which he shews himself.

CCXCII. A lover never sees the faults of his mistress till the enchantment is over.

MAGNANIMITY.

CCXCIII. Magnanimity contemns all, to obtain all.

CCXCIV. Magnanimity is sufficient­ly defined by its name; yet we may say of it, that it is the good-sense of pride, and [Page 80]the noblest way of acquiring applause.

MAN.

CCXCV. To study men, is more ne­cessary than to study books. ^*

CCXCVI. Men and things have their particular point of view: to judge of some, we should see them near; of others we judge best at a distance.

CCXCVII. The truly honest man is he who valueth not himself on any thing.

CCXCVIII. He must be a truly ho­nest man who is willing to be always o­pen to the inspection of honest men.

CCXCIX. A man of sense may love [Page 81]like a madman, but never like a fool. ^‖

MARRIAGE.

CCC. There are convenient marria­ges, but no happy ones.

MEMORY.

CCCI. Why have we memory suffi­cient to retain the minutest circumstances that have happened to us; and yet not enough to remember how often we have related them to the same person?

MERIT.

CCCII. Those who think themselves persons of merit, take a pride often in being unlucky, in order to make them­selves and others believe that they are worthy to be the butt of Fortune.

CCCIII. To undeceive a person pre­judiced in favour of his merit, is to do him the same bad office that was done to the madman at Athens, who fancied all [Page 82]the vessels that came into the port to be his own. ^*

CCCIV. It is a sign of an extraordi­nary merit, when those who most envy it are forced to praise it. ^§

CCCV. Nature gives merit, and for­tune sets it to work.

CCCVI. Some people are disgusting with great merit; others with great faults very pleasing. ^†

[Page 83] CCCVII. There are people whose whole merit consists in saying and doing foolish things seasonably. An alteration of conduct would spoil all. ^‖

CCCVIII. The art of setting off mo­derate qualifications steals esteem; and often gives more reputation than real merit. ^*

CCCIX. Our merit procures us the esteem of men of sense, and our good for­tune that of the public.

CCCX. The appearance of merit is oftener rewarded by the world than merit itself.

[Page 84] CCCXI. Merit has its season, as well as Fruit.

CCCXII. We should not judge of a man's merit by his great qualities, but by the use he makes of them.

CCCXIII. Censorious as the world is, it oftener does favour to false merit, than injustice to true.

MODERATION.

CCCXIV. The moderation of happy people is owing to the calm that Good-fortune gives to their temper. ^*

CCCXV. Moderation is the dread of incurring that envy and contempt which attend upon the intoxication of prosperi­ty: it is a vain ostentation of the strength of the mind. Moderation in an exalted station, is the desire of appearing superior to fortune.

[Page 85] CCCXVI. We make a virtue of mo­deration, in order to bound the ambition of great men, and to comfort moderate geniusses for their slender fortune, and their slender merit.

CCCXVII. Moderation resembles Tem­perance. We are not unwilling to eat more, but are afraid of doing ourselves harm.

NEGOTIATION.

CCCXVIII. We are often dissatisfied with those who negotiate our affairs. The reason is, they almost always sacrifice the interest of their friends to that of the suc­cess of the negotiation; this becomes their own interest, through the honour they expect for bringing to a conclusion what themselves have undertaken.

OBSTINACY.

CCCXIX. Narrowness of mind is of­ten the cause of obstinacy: we do not easi­ly believe beyond what we see. ^†

OLD-AGE.

CCCXX. Old-age is a tyrant, which forbids the pleasures of youth on pain of death.

CCCXXI. Few people know how to be old.

CCCXXII. Old-age gives good ad­vice, when it is no longer able to give bad example. ^*

OPPORTUNITY.

CCCXXIII. Opportunities make us known to ourselves and others.

CCCXXIV. In affairs of importance, we ought less to endeavour to make op­portunities, [Page 87]than to use them when they offer.

CCCXXV. All our qualities, both good and bad, are uncertain, dubious, and at the mercy of opportunity.

PASSIONS.

CCCXXVI. The duration of our passions is no more in our power than the duration of our lives.

CCCXXVII. Passion often makes a fool of a man of sense: sometimes it makes a man of sense a fool.

CCCXXVIII. The passions are the only orators that always succeed. They are, as it were, Nature's art of eloquence, fraught with infallible rules. Simplicity, with the aid of the passions, persuades more than the utmost eloquence without it.

CCCXXIX. In the heart of man there is a perpetual succession of the pas­sions; so that the destruction of one is al­most always the production of another.

CCCXXX. Passions often beget their [Page 88]opposites: avarice produces prodigality, and prodigality avarice: men are often constant through weakness, and bold through fear.

CCCXXXI. When we subdue our passions, it is rather owing to their weak­ness than our strength.

CCCXXXII. So much injustice and self-interest enter into the composition of the passions, that it is very dangerous to obey their dictates; and we ought to be on our guard against them even when they seem most reasonable.

CCCXXXIII. Notwithstanding all the care we take to conceal our passions under the pretences of religion and ho­nour, they still appear through the flimsy veil.

CCCXXXIV. Absence destroys small passions, and increases great ones; as the wind extinguishes tapers, and kindles fires.

CCCXXXV. We are by no means a­ware how much we are influenced by our passions.

CCCXXXVI. While the heart is still agitated by the remains of a passion, it is [Page 89]more susceptible of a new one, than when entirely at rest.

CCCXXXVII. Those who are during life under the influence of strong passions are happy; and miserable when cured of them. ^†

PENETRATION.

CCCXXXVIII. The great fault of pe­netration is, not the falling short of, but the going beyond, its mark.

CCCXXXIX. Penetration has an air of divination; it pleases our vanity more than any other quality of the mind.

PERSEVERANCE.

CCCXL. Perseverance merits neither blame nor praise; it is only the duration of our inclinations and sentiments, which we can neither create nor extinguish.

PHILOSOPHERS.

CCCXLI. The contempt of riches in the philosophers was a concealed desire of revenging on Fortune the injustice done to their merit, by despising the good she de­nied them. It was a secret to shelter them from the ignominy of poverty; a bye-way to arrive at the esteem they could not procure by wealth. ^*

PIETY.

CCCXLII. The piety of old women is often a decent way of escaping the dis­grace and ridicule attendant on decayed beauty; an endeavour to continue them­selves upon a respectable footing. ^§

PITY.

CCCXLIII. Pity is the sense of our own misfortunes in those of another man: it is a wise foresight of the disasters that may befal ourselves: We assist others, in order to engage them to assist us on like occasions; so that the services we offer to the unfortunate are in reality so many anticipated kindnesses to ourselves. ^*

PLEASING.

CCCXLIV. He who is pleased with [Page 92]nobody, is much more unhappy than he with whom nobody is pleased.

PRIDE.

CCCXLV. Pride always indemnifies itself; and takes care to be no loser, even when it renounces vanity.

CCCXLVI. If we were not proud ourselves, we should not complain of the pride of others.

CCCXLVII. Pride is equal i [...] all men; and differs but in the means and manner of shewing itself.

CCCXLVIII. It seems as if Nature, who has so wisely adapted the organs of our bodies to our happiness, had with the same view given us pride, to spare us the pain of knowing our imperfections. ^*

CCCXLIX. Pride is more concerned than benevolence in our remonstrances to persons guilty of faults; and we reprove them not so much with a design to cor­rect, as to make them believe that we ourselves are free from such failings.

[Page 93] CCCL. Pride will not owe, and self-love will not pay.

CCCLI. Our pride is often increased by what we retrench from our other faults.

CCCLII. The same pride that makes us condemn the faults we imagine our­selves exempt from, inclines us to despise the good qualities we are not possessed of.

CCCLIII. There is often more pride than goodness in our concern for the mis­fortunes of our enemies. We make them feel our superiority, by shewing our com­passion.

CCCLIV. Nothing flatters our pride more than the confidence of the Great, because we esteem it the effect of our own merit; not reflecting that it proceeds most frequently from their inability to keep a secret. So that confidence is sometimes a relief of mind, throwing off the oppressive load of secrecy. ^†

[Page 94] CCCLV. Pride has its caprices, as well as other passions: we are ashamed to own that we are jealous; yet value our­selves for having been so, and for being susceptible of it.

PROBITY.

CCCLVI. It is difficult to determine whether a clear, sincere, and honest pro­cedure be the effect of probity or artifice.

PROMISES.

CCCLVII. We promise according to our hopes, and perform according to our fears.

PROPERTIES.

CCCLVIII. Most men, like plants, have secret properties, which chance dis­covers.

PRUDENCE.

CCCLIX. Prudence and love are in­consistent; in proportion as the last in­creases, the other decreases. ^†

CCCLX. No encomiums are thought too great for prudence; yet cannot it in­sure the least event. ^*

PRAISE.

CCCLXI. The shame that arises from praise which we do not deserve, often makes us do things we should never other­wise have attempted.

CCCLXII. We seldom heartily praise any but those who admire us.

CCCLXIII. We blame ourselves on­ly to extort praise.

CCCLXIV. We are not fond of prai­sing without a view to self-interest. Praise [Page 96]is an artful concealed refined flattery; which pleases very differently the giver and receiver; the one takes it as the re­ward of his merit, the other gives it to shew his candor and discernment.

CCCLXV. We often use envenomed praise, which, by a side-blow, exposes, in the person we commend, such faults as we durst not any other way lay open. ^*

CCCLXVI. We seldom praise but to be praised.

CCCLXVII. Few are so wise as to prefer useful reproof to treacherous praise. ^§

CCCLXVIII. A refusal of praise is a desire to be praised twice.

CCCLXIX. There are reproaches [Page 97]that praise, and praises that reproach. ^‖

CCCLXX. That modesty which seems to decline praise, is only the desire of be­ing praised more delicately. ^*

CCCLXXI. Ambition to merit praise fortifies our virtue. Praise bestowed on wit, valour, and beauty, contributes to their augmentation. ^§

QUALITIES.

CCCLXXII. Our bad actions expose [Page 98]us not to so much persecution and hatred as our good qualities. ^†

CCCLXXIII. It is not enough to have great qualities; we must also have the management of them. ^*

CCCLXXIV. There are some good qualities which, when natural, degenerate into faults; and others which, when ac­quired, are always imperfect. For exam­ple, Reason must teach us to be frugal of our fortune and our confidence; and, on the contrary, Nature must give us bene­volence and valour.

[Page 99] CCCLXXV. It is with some good qualities as with the senses; they are in­comprehensible and inconceivable to such as are deprived of them.

CCCLXXVI. Naturally to be with­out envy is a certain indication of great qualities.

CCCLXXVII. There are bad quali­ties which constitute great talents.

QUARRELS.

CCCLXXVIII. Quarrels would never last long, if the fault was on one side only.

RAILLERY.

CCCLXXIX. Raillery is more insup­portable than Wrong; because we have a right to resent injuries, but it is ridiculous to be angry at a jest. ^†

REASON.

CCCLXXX. We want strength to act up to our reason.

[Page 100] CCCLXXXI. A man is not rational because chance throws reason in his way: He only is rational who knows, distin­guishes, tastes it.

CCCLXXXII. We never desire ar­dently what we desire rationally.

RECONCILIATION.

CCCLXXXIII. Reconciliation with enemies is owing to a desire of bettering our condition; the fatigue of war, and an apprehension of some untoward event.

REPENTANCE.

CCCLXXXIV. Repentance is not so much remorse for what we have done, as the fear of consequences.

REPUTATION.

CCCLXXXV. We except to judges in affairs of small moment, but are con­tent that our reputation and glory should be dependent on the judgement of men who are all against us, through jealousy, prejudice, or want of discernment: yet it [Page 101]is merely to engage these to determine in our favour that we often hazard our ease and lives.

CCCLXXXVI. Whatever ignominy we may have incurred, it is almost always in our power to re-establish our reputa­tion. ^*

RICHES.

CCCLXXXVII. Many people despise riches; yet few know how to bestow them. ^‖

[Page 102] CCCLXXXVIII. Ridicule dishonour. more than Dishonour itself. ^§

SECRETS.

CCCLXXXIX. How can we expect that another should keep our secret, when it is more than we can do ourselves? ^*

SELF-LOVE.

CCCXC. Self-love is more artful than the most artful of men.

CCCXCI. Self-love is the greatest of flatterers.

CCCXCII. The first impulse of joy we feel from the good-fortune of a friend proceeds neither from our good-nature, nor friendship; it is the effect of self-love, [Page 103]which flatters us either with the hope of being happy in our turn, or of making some advantage of his prosperity.

CCCXCIII. Self-love, well or ill conducted, constitutes virtue and vice.

CCCXCIV. Human prudence, right­ly understood, is circumspect enlightened self-love.

CCCXCV. We are so prepossessed in our own favour, that we often mistake for virtues those vices that have some resem­blance to them, and which are artfully disguised by self-love. ^†

CCCXCVI. Notwithstanding all the discoveries that have been made in the regions of self-love, there still remains much terra incognita.

CCCXCVII. The fondness, or indif­ference for life, in the old philosophers, was a taste of their self-love; which ought no more to be controverted than the taste of the palate, or the choice of colours.

[Page 104] CCCXCVIII. Nothing is so capable of diminishing our self-love, as the obser­vation that we disapprove at one time of what we approve at another.

CCCXCIX. Self-love never reigns so absolutely as in the passion of love: we are always ready to sacrifice the peace of those we adore, rather than lose the least part of our own.

CCCC. The self-love of some people is such, that, when in love, they are more taken up with their passion, than its ob­ject.

CCCCI. Self-love is the love of self, and of every thing for the sake of self. Self-love makes men idolize themselves, and tyrannize over others, when Fortune gives the means. ^* He never rests out of [Page 105]himself; and settles on external things, just as the bee doth on flowers, to extract what may be serviceable. Nothing is so impetuous as his desires, nothing so secret as his designs, nothing so artful as his conduct. His suppleness is inexpressible, [Page 106]his metamorphoses surpass those of Ovid, and his refinements those of chemistry. We cannot fathom the depth, nor pene­trate the obscurity of his abyss. There concealed from the most piercing eye, he makes numberless turnings and windings: [Page 107]there is he often invisible even to himself: there he conceives, breeds, and brings up, without being sensible of it, an infinity of likes and dislikes; some of which are so monstrous, that he knows them not when brought in to light, or at least cannot pre­vail on himself to own them. From the night that envelopes him springs the ridi­culous notions he entertains of himself: thence his errors, his ignorance, his gross and filly mistakes with respect to himself. Thence is it that he imagines his sensati­ons dead, when they are only asleep, that he shall never desire to run again when once tired; and that he has lost all the appetites he has sated. But this thick darkness, which hides him from himself, hinders him not from seeing perfectly well whatever is without him; in which he resembles the eye, that sees all things except itself. In his great concerns and important affairs, where the violence of desire summoneth his whole attention, he sees, perceives, understands, invents, sus­pects, penetrates, and divines all things; so that one would be tempted to believe that [Page 108]each passion had its respective magic. No­thing is so close and strong as his attach­ments; which he in vain attempts to break through on discovery of the greatest impending misery. Yet sometimes, in a short time, he effects, and without trou­ble, what he had not been able to com­pass with the greatest efforts, for years. Whence may well be concluded, that it is by himself that his desires are inflamed, more than by the beauty and merit of their objects; that it is his taste that heightens and embellishes them; that it is himself that he pursues; and that he fol­lows his inclination, when he follows things that are agreeable to his inclination. He is composed of contrarieties; imperious and obedient, sincere and hypocritical, merciful and cruel, timid and bold. He has different inclinations, according to the different tempers that possess and devote him sometimes to glory, sometimes to wealth, sometimes to pleasure. These he changes, as age and experience alter: and it is indifferent to him whether he has many inclinations, or only one; because [Page 109]he can split himself into many, or collect himself into one, as it is convenient or a­greeable to him. He is inconstant; and the changes, besides those that happen from external causes, are numberless which proceed from himself. He is in­constant through levity, through love, through novelty, through satiety, through disgust, through inconstancy itself. He is capricious; and sometimes labours with eagerness and incredible pains to obtain things that are no ways advantageous, nay even hurtful; but which he pursues mere­ly because it is his will. He is whimsical, and often exerts his whole application in employments the most trifling; takes the utmost delight in the most insipid, and preserves all his haughtiness in the most contemptible. He is attendant on all ages and conditions; he lives every where; he lives on every thing; he lives on nothing. He makes himself easy either in the enjoy­ment, or privation, of things; he even goes over to those who are at variance with him; he enters into their schemes, and, which is wonderful! along with [Page 110]them hates himself; he conspires his own destruction; he labours to undo himself; he only desires to BE; and, that granted, he consents to be his own enemy. We are not therefore to be surprized if he sometimes closes with the most rigid au­sterity; and enters boldly into a combina­tion therewith to ruin himself; because what he loses in one place he regains in another. When we think he relinquishes his pleasures, he but suspends, or changes them; and even when he is discomfited, and we think we are rid of him, we find him triumphant in his own defeat. Such is self-love! of which man's life is only a long and great agitation. The sea is its representative; in the flux and reflux of whose waves, self-love may find a lively expression of the turbulent succession of its thoughts, and of its eternal motion.

SENSATIONS.

CCCCII. It is less difficult to feign the sensations we have not, than to con­ceal those we have.

SIMPLICITY.

CCCCIII. Affected simplicity is re­fined imposture. ^†

SINCERITY.

CCCCIV. Sincerity is an openness of heart which is rarely to be found. It is commonly personated by a refined dissi­mulation, whose end is to procure confi­dence.

CCCCV. A desire to talk of ourselves, and to set our faults in whatever light we chuse, makes the main of our sincerity.

SLANDER.

CCCCVI. We commonly slander more through vanity than malice.

SOBRIETY.

CCCCVII. Sobriety is either the love of health, or an incapacity for debauch.

SOCIETY.

CCCCVIII. Men would not live long in society, were they not the mutual dupes of each other.

SOUL.

CCCCIX. The health of the soul is as precarious as that of the body; for when we seem secure from passions, we are no less in danger of their infection, than we are of falling ill, when we appear to be well.

CCCCX. There are relapses in the distempers of the soul, as well as in those of the body: thus we often mistake for a cure what is no more than an intermissi­on, or a change of discase. ^*

[Page 113] CCCCXI. The flaws of the soul re­semble the wounds of the body; the scar always appears, and they are in danger of breaking open again.

SUBTILTY.

CCCCXII. Too great subtilty is false delicacy; and true delicacy is solid subtilty.

TALKATIVENESS.

CCCCXIII. We speak little when vanity prompts us not.

CCCCXIV. As it is the characteristic of great Wits to say much in few words, so small Wits seem to have the gift of speaking much and saying nothing. ^*

CCCCXV. The excessive pleasure we find in talking of ourselves ought to make [Page 114]us apprehensive that it gives but little to our auditors.

CCCCXVI. We know that we should not talk of our wives; but we seem not to know that we should talk still less of ourselves.

CCCCXVII. We had rather speak ill of ourselves than not speak at all.

CCCCXVIII. It is never more diffi­cult to speak well than when we are a­shamed of our silence.

TASTE.

CCCCXIX. It is as common for men to change their taste, as it is uncommon for them to change their inclination.

CCCCXX. A good taste is the effect of judgement more than understanding.

CCCCXXI. We give up our interest sooner than our taste.

CCCCXXII. Our taste declines with our merit.

CCCCXXIII. Our self-love bears with less patience the condemnation of our taste than of our opinion.

TITLES.

CCCCXXIV. Titles, instead of exalt­ing, debase those who act not up to them.

TREACHERY.

CCCCXXV. Men are oftener treach­erous through weakness than design.

TRUTH.

CCCCXXVI. Truth is not so benefi­cial to men as its appearances are prejudi­cial.

CCCCXXVII. Our enemies, in their judgement of us, come nearer the truth than we do ourselves.

VALOUR.

CCCCXXVIII. The love of glory, the fear of shame, the design of making a fortune, the desire of rendering life easy and agreeable, and the humour of pulling down other people, are often the causes of that valour so celebrated among men.

[Page 116] CCCCXXIX. Valour in private sol­diers is a hazardous trade taken up to get a livelihood.

CCCCXXX. Perfect valour and per­fect cowardice are extremes men seldom arrive at. The intermediate space is pro­digious, and contains all the different spe­cies of courage, which are as various as mens faces and humours. There are those who expose themselves boldly at the be­ginning of an action; and who slacken and are disheartened at its duration. There are others who aim only at preserving their honour, and do little more. Some are not equally exempt from fear at all times alike. Others give occasionally in­to a general panic: others advance to the charge because they dare not stay in their posts. There are men whom habitual small dangers encourage, and fit for great­er. Some are brave with the sword, and fear bullets: others desy bullets, and dread a sword. All these different kinds of valour agree in this, that night, as it augments fear, so it conceals good or bad actions, and gives every one the opportu­nity [Page 117]of sparing himself. There is also a­nother more general discretion: for we find that those who do most, would do more still, were they sure of coming off safe; so that it is very plain that the fear of death gives a damp to courage. ^†

CCCCXXXI. Perfect valour consists in doing without witnesses all we should be capable of doing before the whole world.

CCCCXXXII. Most men sufficiently expose themselves in war to save their ho­nour, but few so much as is necessary e­ven to succeed in the design for which they thus expose themselves.

CCCCXXXIII. No man can answer [Page 118]for his courage who has never been in danger.

CCCCXXXIV. A wise man had ra­ther avoid an engagement than conquer.

VANITY.

CCCCXXXV. It is our own vanity that makes the vanity of others intoler­able. ^†

CCCCXXXVI. If vanity really over­turns not the virtues, it certainly makes them totter.

CCCCXXXVII. The most violent passions have their intermissions: vanity alone gives us no respite.

CCCCXXXVIII. The reason why the pangs of shame and jealousy are so sharp is this: Vanity gives us no assistance in supporting them.

CCCCXXXIX. Vanity makes us do more things against inclination than reason.

VICE.

CCCCXL. When our vices have left us, we flatter ourselves that we have left them. ^*

CCCCXLI. Vices enter into the com­position of virtues, as poisons into the composition of medicines. Prudence mix­es and tempers, and makes good use of the compound against the ills of life.

CCCCXLII. The reason we are not often wholly possessed by a single vice, is that we are distracted by several.

VIOLENCE.

CCCCXLIII. The violence done us by others is often less painful than that we do to ourselves.

CCCCXLIV. The violence we do ourselves in order to prevent love is often more rigorous than the cruelty of a mistress.

VIRTUE.

CCCCXLV. Our virtues are com­monly disguised vices.

CCCCXLVI. What we mistake for virtue is often no more than a concur­rence of divers actions and interests, which fortune, or industry, disposes to advan­tage. It is not always from the princi­ples of valour and chastity that men are valiant, and that women are chaste.

CCCCXLVII. Prosperity is a strong­er trial of virtue than adversity. ^‖

CCCCXLVIII. The virtues are lost in interest, as rivers are in the sea.

CCCCXLIX. To the honour of vir­tue it must be acknowledged, that the greatest misfortunes befal men from their vices.

CCCCL. We despise not all those [Page 121]who have vices; but we despise all those who have no virtues.

CCCCLI. Nature seems to have pre­scribed to every man at his birth the bounds both of his virtues and vices.

CCCCLII. Virtue would not go so far, if vanity did not bear her company. ^§

CCCCLIII. Men dare not, as bad as they are, appear open enemies to virtue: when therefore they persecute Virtue, they pretend to think it counterfeit, or else lay some crime to its charge.

VOGUE.

CCCCLIV. There are people, who, like new songs, are in vogue only for a time.

UNDERSTANDING.

CCCCLV. Those are mistaken who imagine wit and judgement to be two di­stinct [Page 122]things. Judgement is only the per­fection of wit, which penetrates into the recesses of things, observes all that merits observation, and perceives what seems imperceptible. We must therefore agree, that it is extensive wit which produces all the effects attributed to judgement. ^†

CCCCLVI. Strength and weakness of mind are improper terms; they are in reality only the good or ill disposition of the organs of the body.

CCCCLVII. It is a common fault to be never satisfied with our fortune, nor dissatisfied with our understanding.

CCCCLVIII. Politeness of mind con­sists in a courteous and delicate conception.

CCCCLIX. The gallantry of the mind consists in flattering agreeably.

CCCCLX. It often happens that things present themselves to our minds [Page 123]more finished than we could make them with much labour.

CCCCLXI. The defects of the mind, like those of the face, grow worse as we grow old.

CCCCLXII. A man of wit would be often at a loss, were it not for the com­pany of fools.

CCCCLXIII. It is a better employ­ment of the understanding to bear the misfortunes that actually befal us, than to penetrate into those that may.

CCCCLXIV. It is not so much through a fertility of invention that we find many expedients in any one affair; as through a poverty of judgement, which makes us listen to every thing that ima­gination presents, and hinders us from discerning what is best at first.

CCCCLXV. Vivacity, when it in­creases with age, is not far short of fren­zy.

CCCCLXVI. Those who have but one sort of wit are sure not to please long.

CCCCLXVII. Wit tempts us some­times [Page 124]to play the fool with great courage. ^*

CCCCLXVIII. A man of sense finds less difficulty in submitting to a wrong-headed fellow than in attempting to set him right.

CCCCLXIX. The labours of the body free men from pains of the mind. This it is that constitutes the happiness of the poor. ^§

CCCCLXX. The mind, between idle­ness and constancy, fixes on what is easy and agreeable to it. This habit always sets bounds to our enquiries: No man [Page 125]was over at the trouble to stretch his ge­nius as far as it would go.

CCCCLXXI. Small geniuses are hurt by small events: great geniuses see through and despise them.

UNTRUTH.

CCCCLXXII. Our aversion to un­truth is often but an imperceptible ambi­tion to make our testimony considerable, and to give our words a religious weight.

WEAKNESS.

CCCCLXXIII. Weakness is the only incorrigible fault men have. ^†

CCCCLXXIV. Weakness is more opposite to virtue than is vice itself.

CCCCLXXV. Weak people are in­capable of sincerity.

[Page 126] CCCCLXXVI. More men are guilty of treason through weakness than any studied design to betray.

CCCCLXXVII. If there be a man whose weak side has never been discover­ed, it is only because we have never accu­rately looked for it. ^*

CCCCLXXVIII. Silence is the hap­piest course a man can take who is diffi­dent of himself.

WEARINESS.

CCCCLXXIX. The reason why lov­ers are never weary of one another is this, they are always talking of themselves.

CCCCLXXX. We often boast that we are never out of spirtis; and yet are [Page 127]too much conceited to own that we are not bad company.

CCCCLXXXI. We often forgive those who tire us, but cannot forgive those whom we tire.

CCCCLXXXII. We are almost al­ways tired with the company of those very persons of whom we ought never to be tired.

WILL.

CCCCLXXXIII. We have more pow­er than will; and it is only to disculpate us to ourselves, that we often think things impracticable. ^*

WISDOM.

CCCCLXXXIV. Man's chief wis­dom [Page 128]consists in knowing his follies. ^§

CCCCLXXXV. Our wisdom is no less at Fortune's mercy than our wealth. ^†

CCCCLXXXVI. It is easier to be wise for others than for ourselves. ^*

CCCCLXXXVII. Wisdom is to the mind what health is to the body. ^‖

WOMAN.

CCCCLXXXVIII. Women affect [Page 129]coyness as an addition to their beauty.

CCCCLXXXIX. Women often fan­cy themselves to be in love when they are not. The amusement of an intrigue, the emotion of mind produced by gallantry, their natural passion for being beloved, and their unwillingness to give a denial; all these make them imagine they are in love, when in fact they are only coquet­ting.

CCCCXC. Women are completely cruel only to those they hate.

CCCCXCI. The wit of most women serves rather to fortify their folly than their reason. ^*

CCCCXCII. The virtue of women is often the love of reputation and quiet.

CCCCXCIII. There are few virtuous women who are not weary of their pro­fession.

CCCCXCIV. Most virtuous women, [Page 130]like hidden treasures, are secure because nobody seeks after them.

CCCCXCV. Youth without, beauty is of as little consequence as beauty with­out youth.

CCCCXCVI. The common foible of women who have been handsome, is to forget that they are now no longer so. ^*

CCCCXCVII. Most women yield more through weakness than passion; whence it happens that enterprizing ra­ther than amiable men commonly succeed best with them. ^†

[Page 131] CCCCXCVIII. Of all the violent passions that which least misbecomes a woman is Love. ^†

CCCCXCIX. In their first desires women love the lover, afterwards the passion.

CCCCC. That woman is much to be pitied who at once possesses both love and virtue.

YOUTH.

CCCCCI. Youth changes its inclina­tions through heat of blood; old-age per­severes in it through habit.

CCCCCII. Youth is continual intox­ication. It is the fever of Reason.

CCCCCIII. Young people at their entrance upon the world should be either bashful or giddy; a composed self-suffici­ency generally turns to impertinence.

[Page 132] CCCCCIV. Timidity is a fault dan­gerous to reprehend in those we would reform. ^*