The Essays, vol 18 | Page 7

of choler; not that the chastisement
should be less, but, on the contrary, that the revenge may be the better
and more heavily laid on, which, it conceives, will be by this
impetuosity hindered. For anger not only disturbs, but, of itself, also
wearies the arms of those who chastise; this fire benumbs and wastes
their force; as in precipitation, "festinatio tarda est,"--haste trips up its
own heels, fetters, and stops itself:
"Ipsa se velocitas implicat."--Seneca, Ep. 44
For example, according to what I commonly see, avarice has no greater
impediment than itself; the more bent and vigorous it is, the less it
rakes together, and commonly sooner grows rich when disguised in a
visor of liberality.
A very excellent gentleman, and a friend of mine, ran a risk of
impairing his faculties by a too passionate attention and affection to the
affairs of a certain prince his master;--[Probably the King of Navarre,
afterward Henry IV.]--which master has thus portrayed himself to me;
"that he foresees the weight of accidents as well as another, but that in
those for which there is no remedy, he presently resolves upon
suffering; in others, having taken all the necessary precautions which
by the vivacity of his understanding he can presently do, he quietly

awaits what may follow." And, in truth, I have accordingly seen him
maintain a great indifferency and liberty of actions and serenity of
countenance in very great and difficult affairs: I find him much greater,
and of greater capacity in adverse than in prosperous fortune; his
defeats are to him more glorious than his victories, and his mourning
than his triumph.
Consider, that even in vain and frivolous actions, as at chess, tennis,
and the like, this eager and ardent engaging with an impetuous desire,
immediately throws the mind and members into indiscretion and
disorder: a man astounds and hinders himself; he who carries himself
more moderately, both towards gain and loss, has always his wits about
him; the less peevish and passionate he is at play, he plays much more
advantageously and surely.
As to the rest, we hinder the mind's grasp and hold, in giving it so many
things to seize upon; some things we should only offer to it; tie it to
others, and with others incorporate it. It can feel and discern all things,
but ought to feed upon nothing but itself; and should be instructed in
what properly concerns itself, and that is properly of its own having
and substance. The laws of nature teach us what justly we need. After
the sages have told us that no one is indigent according to nature, and
that every one is so according to opinion, they very subtly distinguish
betwixt the desires that proceed from her, and those that proceed from
the disorder of our own fancy: those of which we can see the end are
hers; those that fly before us, and of which we can see no end, are our
own: the poverty of goods is easily cured; the poverty of the soul is
irreparable:
"Nam si, quod satis est homini, id satis esse potesset Hoc sat erat: nunc,
quum hoc non est, qui credimus porro Divitias ullas animum mi explere
potesse?"
["For if what is for man enough, could be enough, it were enough; but
since it is not so, how can I believe that any wealth can give my mind
content."--Lucilius aped Nonium Marcellinum, V. sec. 98.]
Socrates, seeing a great quantity of riches, jewels, and furniture carried

in pomp through his city: "How many things," said he, "I do not
desire!"--[Cicero, Tusc. Quaes., V. 32.]--Metrodorus lived on twelve
ounces a day, Epicurus upon less; Metrocles slept in winter abroad
amongst sheep, in summer in the cloisters of churches:
"Sufficit ad id natura, quod poscit."
["Nature suffices for what he requires."--Seneca, Ep., 90.]
Cleanthes lived by the labour of his own hands, and boasted that
Cleanthes, if he would, could yet maintain another Cleanthes.
If that which nature exactly and originally requires of us for the
conservation of our being be too little (as in truth what it is, and how
good cheap life may be maintained, cannot be better expressed than by
this consideration, that it is so little that by its littleness it escapes the
gripe and shock of fortune), let us allow ourselves a little more; let us
call every one of our habits and conditions nature; let us rate and treat
ourselves by this measure; let us stretch our appurtenances and
accounts so far; for so far, I fancy, we have some excuse. Custom is a
second nature, and no less powerful. What is wanting to my custom, I
reckon is wanting to me; and I should be almost as well content that
they took away my life as cut me