The Essays, vol 18 | Page 6

should err."--Quintil., Inst. Orat., xi. 17.]
When they order us to love three, four, or fifty degrees of things above
ourselves, they do like archers, who, to hit the white, take their aim a
great deal higher than the butt; to make a crooked stick straight, we
bend it the contrary way.
I believe that in the Temple of Pallas, as we see in all other religions,
there were apparent mysteries to be exposed to the people; and others,
more secret and high, that were only to be shown to such as were
professed; 'tis likely that in these the true point of friendship that every
one owes to himself is to be found; not a false friendship, that makes us
embrace glory, knowledge, riches, and the like, with a principal and
immoderate affection, as members of our being; nor an indiscreet and
effeminate friendship, wherein it happens, as with ivy, that it decays
and ruins the walls it embraces; but a sound and regular friendship,
equally useful and pleasant. He who knows the duties of this friendship
and practises them is truly of the cabinet of the Muses, and has attained
to the height of human wisdom and of our happiness, such an one,
exactly knowing what he owes to himself, will on his part find that he
ought to apply to himself the use of the world and of other men; and to
do this, to contribute to public society the duties and offices
appertaining to him. He who does not in some sort live for others, does
not live much for himself:
"Qui sibi amicus est, scito hunc amicum omnibus esse."
["He who is his own friend, is a friend to everybody else." --Seneca,

Ep., 6.]
The principal charge we have is, to every one his own conduct; and 'tis
for this only that we here are. As he who should forget to live a
virtuous and holy life, and should think he acquitted himself of his duty
in instructing and training others up to it, would be a fool; even so he
who abandons his own particular healthful and pleasant living to serve
others therewith, takes, in my opinion, a wrong and unnatural course.
I would not that men should refuse, in the employments they take upon
them, their attention, pains, eloquence, sweat, and blood if need be:
"Non ipse pro caris amicis Aut patria, timidus perire:"
["Himself not afraid to die for beloved friends, or for his
country."--Horace, Od., iv. 9, 51.]
but 'tis only borrowed, and accidentally; his mind being always in
repose and in health; not without action, but without vexation, without
passion. To be simply acting costs him so little, that he acts even
sleeping; but it must be set on going with discretion; for the body
receives the offices imposed upon it just according to what they are; the
mind often extends and makes them heavier at its own expense, giving
them what measure it pleases. Men perform like things with several
sorts of endeavour, and different contention of will; the one does well
enough without the other; for how many people hazard themselves
every day in war without any concern which way it goes; and thrust
themselves into the dangers of battles, the loss of which will not break
their next night's sleep? and such a man may be at home, out of the
danger which he durst not have looked upon, who is more passionately
concerned for the issue of this war, and whose soul is more anxious
about events than the soldier who therein stakes his blood and his life. I
could have engaged myself in public employments without quitting my
own matters a nail's breadth, and have given myself to others without
abandoning myself. This sharpness and violence of desires more hinder
than they advance the execution of what we undertake; fill us with
impatience against slow or contrary events, and with heat and suspicion
against those with whom we have to do. We never carry on that thing

well by which we are prepossessed and led:
"Male cuncta ministrat Impetus."
["Impulse manages all things ill."--Statius, Thebaid, x. 704.]
He who therein employs only his judgment and address proceeds more
cheerfully: he counterfeits, he gives way, he defers quite at his ease,
according to the necessities of occasions; he fails in his attempt without
trouble and affliction, ready and entire for a new enterprise; he always
marches with the bridle in his hand. In him who is intoxicated with this
violent and tyrannical intention, we discover, of necessity, much
imprudence and injustice; the impetuosity of his desire carries him
away; these are rash motions, and, if fortune do not very much assist, of
very little fruit. Philosophy directs that, in the revenge of injuries
received, we should strip ourselves