Xxxiv.—: As the face shines in water, so are men’s hearts manifest to the wise

This aphorism distinguishes between the minds of prudent men and those of others, by comparing the former to water, or a mirror, which receives the forms and images of things; while the latter are like earth, or unpolished stone, which reflects nothing. And the mind of a prudent man is the more aptly compared to a glass, because therein one’s own image may, at the same time, be viewed along with those of others, which could not be done by the eye without assistance: but if the mind of a prudent man be so capacious as to observe and distinguish an infinite diversity of natures and manners in men, it remains that we endeavor to render it as various in the application as it is in the representation.

“Qui sapit, innumeris moribus aptus erit”

If we have dwelt too long upon those parables, and used them for higher purposes than mere illustrations, the dignity of both author and subject must be our excuse. For thus, it was not only usual among the Jews, but very common also among the wise men of other ancient nations, when they had, by observation, hit upon anything useful in common life, to reduce and contract it into some short sentence, parable, or fable. Fables anciently supplied the defect of examples; but now that times abound with variety of histories, it is better and more enlivening to draw from real life. But the method of writing best suited to so various and intricate a subject as the different occasions of civil business, is that which Machiavel chose for treating politics; viz., by observation or discourse upon histories and examples. For the knowledge which is newly drawn, and, as it were, under our own eye, from particulars, best finds the way to particulars again. And doubtless it is much more conducive to practice that the discourse follow the example, than that the example follow the discourse; and this regards not only the order, but the thing itself; for when an example is proposed as the basis of a discourse, it is usually proposed with its whole apparatus of circumstances, which may sometimes correct and supply it; whence it becomes as a model for imitation and practice; while examples, produced for the sake of the treatise, are but succinctly and nakedly quoted, and, as slaves, wholly attend the call of the discourse.

It is worth while to observe this difference, that as the histories of times afford the best matter for discourses upon politics, such as those of Machiavel, so the histories of lives are most advantageously used for instructions of business, because they contain all the possible variety of occasions and affairs, as well great as small. Yet a more commodious foundation may be had for the precepts of business than either of these histories, and that is, the discoursing upon prudent and serious epistles, such as those of Cicero to Atticus; for epistles represent business nearer and more to the life than either annals or lives. And thus we have treated of the matter and form of the first part of the doctrine of business, which regards variety of occasions, and place it among the desiderata.

There is another part of the doctrine of business differing as much from the former as the being wise in general, and the being wise for one’s self—the one seems to move as from the centre to the circumference, and the other as from the circumference to the centre. For there is a certain prudence of giving counsel to others, and another of looking to one’s own affairs. Both these, indeed, are sometimes found united, but oftenest separate; as many are prudent in the management of their own private concerns, and weak in public administration, or the giving advice, like the ant, which is a wise creature for itself, but pernicious in a garden. This virtue of self-wisdom was not unknown even to the Romans, those great lovers of their country; whence, says the comedian, “the wise man forms his own fortune”—

“Nam pol sapiens fingit fortunam sibi”;

and they had it proverbial among them—“Every man’s fortune lies in his own hand”—“Faber quisque fortunæ propriæ.” So Livy gives this character of the elder Cato: “Such was his force of mind and genius, that wherever he had been born he seemed formed for making his own fortune.”

But if any one publicly professed or made open show of this kind of prudence, it was always accounted not only implitic, but ominous and unfortunate, as was observed of Timotheus the Athenian, who, after having performed many great exploits for the honor and advantage of his country, and giving an account of his conduct to the people, as the manner then was, he concluded the several particulars thus: “And here fortune had no share”; after which time nothing ever succeeded in his hands. This was, indeed, too arrogant and haughty, like that of Pharaoh in Ezekiel, “Thou sayest, The river is mine, and I made myself”; or that of Habakkuk, “They rejoice, and sacrifice to their net”; or, again, that of Mezentius, who called his hand and javelin his god;

or, lastly, that of Julius Cæsar, the only time that we find him betraying his inward sentiments; for when the Aruspex related to him that the entrails were not prosperous, he muttered softly, “They shall be better when I please,” which was said not long before his unfortuntae death. And, indeed, this excessive confidence, as it is a profane thing, so it is always unhappy; whence great and truly wise men think proper to attribute all their successes to their felicity, and not to their virtue and industry. So Sylla styled himself happy, not great; and Cæsar, at another time, more advisedly said to the pilot, “Thou carriest Cæsar and his fortune.”

But these expressions—“Every one’s fortune is in his own hand,” “A wise man shall control the stars,” “Every way is passable to virtue,” etc.—if understood, and used rather as spurs to industry than as stirrups to insolence, and rather to beget in men a constancy and firmness of resolution than arrogance and ostentation, they are deservedly esteemed sound and wholesome; and hence, doubtless, it is that they find reception in the breasts of great men, and make it sometimes difficult for them to dissemble their thoughts; so we find Augustus Cæsar, who was rather different from than inferior to his uncle, though doubtless a more moderate man, required his friends, as they stood about his deathbed, to give him their applause at his exit, as if conscious to himself that he had acted his part well upon the stage of life. And this part of doctrine also is to be reckoned as deficient, not but that it has been much used and beaten in practice, though not taken notice of in books. Wherefore, according to our custom, we shall here set down some heads upon the subject, under the title of the Self-politician, or the Art of rising in Life.

It may seem a new and odd kind of thing to teach men how to make their fortunes—a doctrine which every one would gladly learn before he finds the difficulties of it; for the things required to procure fortune are not fewer or less difficult than those to procure virtue. It is as rigid and hard a thing to become a true politician as a true moralist, yet the treating of this subject nearly concerns the merit and credit of learning. It is of great importance to the honor of learning, that men of business should know erudition is not like a lark, which flies high and delights in nothing but singing, but that it is rather like a hawk, which soars aloft indeed, but can stoop when she finds it convenient to pounce upon her prey. Again, this also regards the perfection of learning; for the true rule of a perfect inquiry is, that nothing can be found in the material globe which has not its correspondent in the crystalline globe—the understanding, or that there is nothing found in practice which has not its particular doctrine and theory. But learning esteems the building of a private fortune as a work of an inferior kind; for no man’s private fortune can be an end any way worthy of his existence; nay, it frequently happens that men of eminent virtues renounce their fortune to pursue the things of a sublimer nature. Yet even private fortune, as it is the instrument of virtue and doing good, is a particular doctrine, worthy of consideration.

This doctrine has its precepts, some whereof are summary or collective, and others scattered and various. The collective precepts are founded in a just knowledge—1, of ourselves; and, 2, of others. Let this, therefore, be the first whereon the knowledge of the rest principally turns, that we procure to ourselves, as far as possible, the window once required by Momus, who, seeing so many corners and recesses in the structure of the human heart, found fault that it should want a window, through which those dark and crooked turnings might be viewed. This window may be procured by diligently informing ourselves of the particular persons we have to deal with—their tempers, desires, views, customs, habits; the assistances, helps, and assurances whereon they principally rely, and whence they receive their power; their defects and weaknesses, whereat they chiefly lie open and are accessible; their friends, factions, patrons, dependants, enemies, enviers, rivals; their times and manner of access—

“Sola viri molles aditus et tempora noras”;

their principles, and the rules they prescribe themselves, etc. But our information should not wholly rest in the persons, but also extend to the particular actions, which from time to time come upon the anvil; how they are conducted, with what success, by whose assistance promoted, by whom opposed, of what weight and moment they are, and what their consequences. For a knowledge of present actions is not only very advantageous in itself, but without it the knowledge of persons will be very fallacious and uncertain; for men change along with their actions, and are one thing while entangled and surrounded with business, and another when they return to themselves. And these particular informations, with regard to persons as well as actions, are like the minor propositions in every active syllogism; for no truth, nor excellence of observations or axioms, whence the major political propositions are formed, can give a firm conclusion, if there be an error in the minor proposition. And that such a kind of knowledge is procurable, Solomon assures us, who says, that “counsel in the heart of man is like a deep water, but a wise man will draw it out”; for although the knowledge itself does not fall under precept, because it regards individuals, yet instructions may be given of use for fetching it out.

Men may be known six different ways; viz.—1, by their countenances; 2, their words; 3, their actions; 4, their tempers; 5, their ends; and, 6, by the relation of others. 1. As to the countenance, there is no great matter in that old proverb, “Fronti nulla fides”; for although this may be said with some truth of the external and general composure of the countenance and gesture, yet there lie concealed certain more subtile motions and actions of the eyes, face, looks, and behavior, by which the gate, as it were, of the mind is unlocked and thrown open. Who was more close than Tiberius? yet Tacitus observes a difference between his inward thoughts and his language in eulogizing the exploits of Drusus and Germanicus—thus characterizing his panegyric of the latter: “Magis in speciem verbis adornatis quam ut penitus sentire crederetur”; and then that of Drusus—“Paucioribus sed intentior, et fidâ oratione.” Again, Tacitus sketches the manner of the emperor on other occasions when he was less crafty, and sums up his remarks thus: “Quin ipse compositus alias atque velut eluctantium verborum; solutius promptiusque loquebatur quoties subveniret.” And indeed, it is hard to find so great and masterly a dissembler, or a countenance so well broke and commanded, as to carry on an artful and counterfeit discourse without some way or other betraying it.

2. The words of men are full of deceit; but this is well detected in two ways; viz., either when words are spoken on the sudden, or in passion. So Tiberius, being suddenly surprised and hurried beyond himself, with a stinging speech from Agrippina, went a step out of his natural dissimulation; for, says Tacitus, she thus drew an uncommon expression from his secret breast, and he rebuked her as being offended because she did not rule. Whence the poet not unjustly calls these perturbations tortures, mankind being compelled by them to betray their own secrets.

—“Vino tortus et ira.”

And experience shows that there are very few so true to their own secrets, and of so close a temper, as not sometimes, through anger, ostentation, love to a friend, impotence of mind, or some other affection, to reveal their own thoughts. But nothing searches all the corners of the mind so much as dissimulation practiced against dissimulation, according to the Spanish proverb, “Tell a lie and find a truth.”

3. Even facts themselves, though the surest pledges of the human mind, are not altogether to be trusted, unless first attentively viewed and considered as to their magnitude and propriety; for it is certain that deceit gets itself a credit in small things, that it may practice to more advantage in larger. And the Italian thinks himself upon the cross with the crier, or put up to sale, when, without manifest cause, he is treated better than usual; for small favors lull mankind, and disarm them both of caution and industry; whence they are properly called by Demosthenes the baits of sloth. Again, we may clearly see the crafty and ambiguous nature of some actions which pass for benefits, from that trick practiced by Mucianus upon Antony; for after a pretended reconciliation he most treacherously advanced many of Antony’s friends to lieutenancies, tribuneships, etc., and by this cunning entirely disarmed and defeated him; thus winning over Antony’s friends to himself.

But the surest key for unlocking the minds of others turns upon searching and sifting either their tempers and natures, or their ends and designs; and the more weak and simple are best judged by their temper, but the more prudent and close by their designs. It was prudently and wittily, though in my judgment not substantially, advised by the Pope’s nuncio as to the choice of another to succeed him in his residence at a foreign court, that they should by no means send one remarkably but rather tolerably wise; because a man wiser than ordinary could never imagine what the people of that nation were likely to do. It is doubtless a common error, particularly in prudent men, to measure others by the model of their own capacity; whence they frequently overshoot the mark, by supposing that men project and form greater things to themselves, and practice more subtile arts than ever entered their minds. This is elegantly intimated by the Italian proverb—

and therefore, in men of small capacities, who commit many absurdities, a conjecture must rather be formed from the propensity of their nature than from their ends in view. Whence princes also, though for a quite different reason, are best judged by their tempers as private persons are by their ends; for princes, who are at the top of human desires, have seldom any ends to aspire after with ardor and perseverance, by the situation and distance whereof a direction and measure might be taken of their other actions. And this among others is a principal reason why their hearts, as the Scripture declares, are unsearchable. But every private man is like a traveller, who proceeds intently to the end of his journey, where he sets up: hence one may tolerably conjecture what a private man will or will not do; for if a thing be conducive to his ends, it is probable he will do it; and vice versa. And this information, from the diversity of the ends and natures of men, may be taken comparatively as well as simply, so as to discover what humor or disposition overrules the rest. Thus Tigellinus, when he found himself outdone by Turpilianus, in administering and suggesting to Nero’s pleasures, searched, as Tacitus says, into the fears of Nero, and by this means got rid of his rival.

As for that second-hand knowledge of men’s minds which is had from the relation of others, it will be sufficient to observe of it, that defects and vices are best learned from enemies, virtues and abilities from friends, manners and times from servants, and opinions and thoughts from intimate acquaintance; for popular fame is light, and the judgment of superiors uncertain, before whom men walk more masked and secret. The truest character comes from domestics—“Verior fama e domesticis emanat.”

But the shortest way to this whole inquiry rests upon three particulars; viz.—1. In procuring numerous friendships with such as have an extensive and general knowledge both of men and things, or at least in securing a set of particular friends, who, according to the diversity of occasions, may be always ready to give a solid information upon any point that shall turn up. 2. In observing a prudent mean and moderation between the freedom of discourse and silence, using frankness of speech most frequently; but when the thing requires it, taciturnity; for openness of speech invites and excites others to use the same toward ourselves, which brings many things to our knowledge; while taciturnity procures trust, and makes men willing to deposit their secrets with us as in their own bosom. 3. In gradually acquiring such a habit of watchfulness and intentness in all discourse and action, as at once to promote the business in hand, yet take notice of incidental matters; for, as Epictetus would have a philosopher say to himself in every action, “I will do this, yet keep to my rule,” so a politician should resolve with himself in every business, “I will drive this point, and yet learn somewhat of future use.” And, therefore, such tempers as are wholly intent upon a present business without at all regarding what may intervene, which Montaigne acknowledges was his own defect, make excellent ministers of state, but fail in advancing their private fortunes. A principal caution must also be had to restrain the impetuosity and too great alacrity of the mind, lest much knowledge should drive us on to meddle in many matters; for nothing is more unfortunate and rash than such a procedure. Therefore the variety of knowledge to be here procured of men and things comes but to this, that we make a judicious choice both of the matters we undertake and of the persons whose assistance we use, that we may thence know how to manage and dispose all things with the greater dexterity and safety.

Next to the knowledge of others comes the knowledge of ourselves; and it requires no less diligence, but rather more, to get a true and exact information of ourselves than of others. For that oracle, “Know thyself,” is not only a rule of general prudence, but has also a principal place in politics. And St. James excellently observes of mankind, that “he who views his face in a glass, instantly forgets his features.” Whence we had need be often looking. And this also holds in politics. But there is a difference in glasses—the divine one, wherein we are to behold ourselves, is the Word of God; but the political glass is no other than the state of things and times wherein we live. A man, therefore, must make a thorough examination, not partially like a self-lover, into his own faculties, powers, and abilities, and again into his defects, inabilities, and obstacles, summing up the account, so as to make the latter constantly appear greater, and the former rather less than they are. And upon such an examination the following particulars may come to be considered.

Let the first particular be, how far a man’s manners and temper suit with the times; for if they agree in all respects, he may act more freely and at large, and follow the bent of his genius; but if there be any contrariety, then he must walk more cautiously and covertly in the whole scene of his life, and appear less in public, as Tiberius did, who, being conscious that his temper suited not with the age, never frequented the public shows, and for the last twelve years of his life came not to the Senate; whereas Augustus lived continually in open sight.

Let the second consideration be, how a man can relish the professions or kinds of life in use and repute, out of which he is to make a choice, so that if his profession be not already entered upon, he may take that which is most suitable to his genius; but if he be already got into a kind of life for which he is unfit, that he may, upon the first opportunity, quit it and take to another—as Valentine Borgia did, who, being educated by his father for the priesthood, afterward renounced, followed his own inclination, and appeared in a military character.

Let a third consideration be, how a man stands compared with his equals and rivals, who may also probably be his competitors in his fortune, and let him hold that course of life in which there is the greatest want of eminent men, and wherein it is most likely that himself may rise the highest, as Cæsar did, who was first an orator, a pleader, and scarce anything more than a gownman; but when he found that Cicero, Hortensius, and Catullus bore away the prize of eloquence, and that none had greatly signalized themselves in war, except Pompey, he quitted the gown, and taking a long farewell of civil power, went over to the arts of the general and the emperor, whereby he rose to the top pinnacle of sovereignty.

Let the fourth consideration be, to regard one’s own nature and temper in the choice of friends and dependants; for different men require different kinds of friends—some those that are grave and secret, others such as are bold and ostentatious, etc. It is worth observing of what kind the friends of Julius Cæsar were; viz., Antony, Hirtius, Balbus, Dolobella, Pollio, etc., who usually swore to die that he might live; thereby expressing an infinite affection for Cæsar, but an arrogance and contempt toward everybody else. And they were all men diligent in business, but of no great fame and reputation.

Let a fifth consideration be, to beware of examples, and not fondly square one’s self to the imitation of others, as if what was achieved by them must needs be achieved by us, without considering the difference there may be between our own disposition and manners compared with theirs we propose to imitate. Pompey manifestly fell into this error, who, as Cicero writes of him, had these words often in his mouth—“Sylla could do this, why shall not I?” In which particular he greatly imposed upon himself; for Sylla’s temper and method of acting differed infinitely from his—the one’s being fierce, violent, and pressing to the end, the other’s composed, mindful of the laws, and directing all to majesty and reputation; whence he was greatly curbed and restrained in executing his designs. And these considerations may serve as a specimen of the rest.

But it is not enough for a man to know himself; he must also consider how he may most commodiously and prudently—1, show, 2, express, 3, wind and fashion himself. 1. As for show, we see nothing more frequent in life than for the less capable man to make the greater figure. It is, therefore, no small excellence of prudence, by means of a certain act and grace, to represent one’s best side to others, by setting out our own virtues, merits, and fortunes to advantage, which may be done without arrogance or rendering one’s self disagreeable; and, on the other side, artificially concealing our vices, defects, misfortunes, and disgraces, dwelling upon the former, and turning them as it were to the light, but palliating the latter, or effacing them by a well-adapted construction or interpretation, etc. Hence Tacitus says of Mucianus, the most prudent man of his time and the most indefatigable in business, that “he had an art of showing the fair side of whatever he spoke or acted.” And certainly it requires some art to prevent this conduct from becoming fulsome and despicable; yet ostentation, though to the first degree of vanity, is a fault in ethics rather than in politics. For as it is usually said of calumny, that if laid on boldly some of it will stick, so it may be said of ostentation, unless perfectly monstrous and ridiculous, “Paint yourself strongly, and some of it will last.” Doubtless it will dwell with the crowd, though the wiser sort smile at it; so that the reputation procured with the number will abundantly reward the contempt of a few. But if this ostentation be managed with decency and discretion, it may greatly contribute to raise a man’s reputation, as particularly if it carry the appearance of native candor and ingenuity, or be used at times surrounded with dangers, as among the military men in time of war. Or again, if our own praises are let fall as it were by accident, and be not too seriously or largely insisted on, or if any one, in praising himself, at the same time mixes it with censure and ridicule, or lastly, if he does it not spontaneously, but is provoked to it by the insolence and reproach of others. And there are many who, being by nature solid, and consequently wanting in this art of spreading canvas to their own honor, find themselves punished for their modesty, with some diminution of their dignity.

But however persons of weak judgment or too rigid morals may disallow this ostentation of virtue, no one will deny that we should endeavor to keep virtue from being undervalued through our neglect, and less esteemed than it deserves. This diminution in the esteem of virtue happens three ways; viz., 1. When a person presents and thrusts himself and his service into a business unasked; for such services are thought sufficiently rewarded by accepting them. 2. When a man at the beginning of a business overexerts himself, and performs that all at once, which should have been done gradually; though this, indeed, gains early commendation where affairs succeed; but in the end it produces satiety. 3. When a man is too quick and light in receiving the fruit of his virtue—in praise, applause, and favor—and pleases himself therewith; against which there is this prudent admonition, “Beware lest thou seem unaccustomed to great things, if such small ones delight thee.”

A diligent concealment of defects is no less important than a prudent and artful manifestation of virtues. Defects are principally concealed and covered under three cloaks; viz., 1. Caution, 2. Pretext, and 3. Assurance. 1. We call that caution, when a man prudently keeps from meddling in matters to which he is unequal; while, on the other hand, daring and restless spirits are injudiciously busying themselves in things they are not acquainted with, and thereby publish and proclaim their own defects. 2. We call that pretext, when a man with sagacity and prudence paves and prepares himself a way for securing a favorable and commodious interpretation of his vices and defects; as proceeding from different principles, or having a different tendency than is generally thought. For as to the concealment of vices, the poet said well, that vice often skulks in the verge of virtue.

“Sæpe latet vitium proximate boni.”

Therefore, when we find any defect in ourselves, we must endeavor to borrow the figure and pretext of the neighboring virtue for a shelter; thus the pretext of dulness is gravity; that of indolence, considerateness, etc. And it is of service to give out some probable reason for not exerting our utmost strength, and so make a necessity appear a virtue. 3. Assurance, indeed, is a daring, but a very certain and effectual remedy, whereby a man professes himself absolutely to slight and despise those things he could not obtain, like crafty merchants, who usually raise the price of their own commodities and sink the price of other men’s. Though there is another kind of assurance, more impudent than this, by which a man brazens out his own defects, and forces them upon others for excellences; and the better to secure this end, he will feign a distrust of himself in those things wherein he really excels: like poets, who, if you except to any particular verse in their composition, will presently tell you that single line cost them more pains than all the rest; and then produce you another, as suspected by themselves, for your opinion; while, of all the number, they know it to be the best and least liable to exception. But above all, nothing conduces more to the well representing a man’s self, and securing his own right, than not to disarm one’s self by too much sweetness and good-nature, which exposes a man to injuries and reproaches; but rather, in all cases, at times, to dart out some sparks of a free and generous mind, that have no less of the sting than the honey. This guarded behavior, attended with a ready disposition to vindicate themselves, some men have from accident and necessity, by means of somewhat inherent in their person or fortune, as we find in the deformed, illegitimate, and disgraced; who, if they do not want virtue, generally prove fortunate.

The expressing or declaring of a man’s self is a very different thing from the showing himself, as not relating to virtue, but to the particular actions of life. And here nothing is more politic than to preserve a prudent or sound moderation or medium in disclosing or concealing one’s mind as to particular actions. For though profound silence, the hiding of counsels, and managing all things by blind and deaf artifice, is a useful and extraordinary thing; yet it often happens that dissimulation produces errors which prove snares. And we see that the men of greatest repute for politics, scruple not openly and generously to declare their ends without dissimulation: thus Sylla openly declared, “He wished all mortals happy or unhappy, as they were his friends or enemies.” So Cæsar, upon his first expedition into Gaul, professed “he had rather be the first man in an obscure village, than the second at Rome.” And when the war was begun, he proved no dissembler, if Cicero says truly of him, “That he did not refuse, but in a manner required to be called tyrant, as he was.” So we find, in an epistle of Cicero to Atticus, how little of a dissembler Augustus was, who, at his first entrance upon affairs, while he remained the delight of the Senate, used to swear in this form when he harangued the people: “Ita Parentis honores consequi liceat”: which was no less than tyranny itself. It is true, to salve the matter a little, he would at those times stretch his hand toward the statue of Julius Cæsar erected in the place, while the audience smiled, applauded, admired, and cried out among themselves, “What does the youth mean?” but never suspected him of any ill design, who thus candidly and ingenuously spoke his mind. And yet all these we have named were prosperous men. Pompey, on the other hand, who endeavored at the same ends by more dark and concealed methods, wholly bent himself, by numberless stratagems, to cover his desires and ambition, while he brought the state to confusion, that it might then of necessity submit to him, and he thus procure the sovereignty to appearance against his will. And when he thought he had gained his point, as being made sole consul, which no one ever was before him, he found himself never the nearer, because those who would doubtless have assisted him, understood not his intentions; so that at length he was obliged to go in the beaten path, and under pretence of opposing Cæsar, procured himself arms and an army: so slow, casual, and generally unsuccessful, are the counsels covered with dissimulation! And Tacitus seems to have had the same sentiment, when he makes the artifice of dissimulation an inferior prudence, compared with policy, attributing the former to Tiberius, and the latter to Augustus; for speaking of Livia, he says, “She was well tempered with the arts of her husband, and the dissimulation of her son.”

As for the bending and forming of the mind, we should doubtless do our utmost to render it pliable, and by no means stiff and refractory to occasions and opportunities; for to continue the same men, when we ought not, is the greatest obstacle business can meet with; that is, if men remain as they did, and follow their own nature after the opportunities are changed. Whence Livy, introducing the elder Cato as a skilful architect of his own fortune, adds that “he was of a pliant temper”: and hence it is, that grave, solemn, and unchangeable natures generally meet with more respect than felicity. This defect some men have implanted in them by nature, as being in themselves stiff, knotty, and unfit for bending; but in others it is acquired by custom, which is a second nature, or from an opinion, which easily steals into men’s minds, that they should never change the method of acting they had once found good and prosperous. Thus Machiavel prudently observes of Fabius Maximus, “That he would obstinately retain his old inveterate custom of delaying and protracting the war, when now the nature was changed and required brisker measures.” In others again, the same defect proceeds from want of judgment, when men do not seasonably distinguish the periods of things and actions, but alter too late, after the opportunity is slipped. And something of this kind Demosthenes reprehended in the Athenians, when he said, “They were like rustics in a fencing school, who always, after a blow, guard the part that was hit, and not before.” And lastly, this defect in others, because they are unwilling that the labor they have taken in the way once entered should be lost, and know not how to sound a retreat, but rather trust they shall conquer occasions by perseverance. But this obstinacy and restiveness of the mind, from whatever root it proceeds, is highly prejudicial to business and men’s private fortunes: on the contrary, nothing is more politic than to make the wheels of the mind concentric with the wheels of fortune, and capable of turning together with them. And thus much of the two summary or collective precepts for advancing one’s fortune.

The scattered precepts for rising in life are numerous: we shall single out a few by way of example. The first is, that the builder of his fortune properly use and apply his rule, that is, accustom his mind to measure and estimate the price and value of things, as they conduce more or less to his particular fortune and ends, and this with diligence, not by halves. It is surprising, yet very true, that many have the logical part of their mind set right and the mathematical wrong, and judge truly of the consequences of things, but very unskilfully of their value. Hence some men are fond of access to and familiarity with princes; others of popular fame, and fancy these to be great enjoyments; whereas both of them are frequently full of envy and dangers. Others, again, measure things according to their difficulty and the labor bestowed in procuring them, imagining themselves must needs have advanced as far as they have moved. So Cæsar, to describe how diligent and indefatigable the younger Cato was to little purpose, said in the way of irony, “That he did all things with great labor.” And hence it happens, that men frequently deceive themselves, when, having the assistance of some great or honorable personage, they promise themselves all manner of success; while the truth is, they are not the greatest, but the fittest instruments that perform business best and quickest. For improving the true mathematics of the mind, it should be principally noted what ought to come first, what second, etc., in the raising and promoting a man’s fortune. And, in the first place, we set down the emendation of the mind; for by removing the obstacles, and levelling the inequalities of the mind, a way may be sooner opened to fortune, than the impediments of the mind be removed with the assistance of fortune. And, in the second place, we set down riches, whereto most, perhaps, would have assigned the first, as their use is so extensive. But we condemn this opinion for a reason like that of Machiavel in a similar case; for though it was an established notion, that “Money is the sinews of war,” he said, more justly, that “War had no sinews but those of good soldiers.” In the same manner, it may be truly affirmed that the sinews of fortune are not money, but rather the powers of the mind, address, courage, resolution, intrepidity, perseverance, moderation, industry, etc. In the third place come fame and reputation; and this the rather, because they have certain tides and seasons, wherein, if they be not opportunely used, it will be difficult to recover them again; for it is a hopeless attempt to recover a lost reputation. In the last place, we set down honors, which are easier acquired by any of the former three, much more by a conjunction of them all, than any one of them can be procured by honors. But as much depends upon observing the order of things, so likewise in observing the order of time, in disturbing of which men frequently err and hasten to the end, when they should only have consulted the beginning, and suddenly flying at the greatest things of all, rashly skip over those in the middle—thus neglecting the useful precept, “Attend to what is immediately before you”—

“Quod nunc instat agamus.”

Our second precept is, to beware of being carried by greatness and presumption of mind to things too difficult, and thus of striving against the stream. It is a prudent advice, in the raising of one’s fortune, to yield to necessity.

“Fatis accede, deisque.”

Let us look all round us, and observe where things lie open, where they are inclosed and locked up, where they stoop, and where they mount, and not misemploy our strength where the way is impassable: in doing this we shall prevent repulse, not stick too long in particulars, win a reputation of being moderate, give little offence, and lastly, gain an opinion of felicity; while the things that would probably have happened of themselves, will be attributed to our own industry.

A third precept, which seems somewhat to cross the former, though not when well understood, is, that we do not always wait for opportunities, but sometimes excite and lead them. This Demosthenes intimates in a high strain, when he says, “That as it is a maxim for the general to lead his army, so a wise man should lead things, make them execute his will, and not himself be obliged to follow events.” And if we attend, we shall find two different kinds of men held equal to the management of affairs; for some know how to make an advantageous use of opportunities, yet contrive or project nothing of themselves; while others are wholly intent upon forming schemes, and neglect the laying hold of opportunities as they offer: but either of these faculties is quite lame without the other.

It is a fourth precept to undertake nothing that necessarily requires much time, but constantly to remember time is ever on the wing—

“Sed fugit interea, fugit irreparabile tempus.”

And the only reason why those who addict themselves to toilsome professions and employs, as lawyers, authors, etc., are less versed in making their fortune, is the want of time from their other studies to gain a knowledge of particulars, wait for opportunities, and project their own rising. We see in the courts of princes the most effectual men in making their own fortunes, and invading the fortunes of others, are such as have no public employ, but are continually plotting their own rise and advantage.

A fifth precept is, that we in some measure imitate nature, which does nothing in vain; and this is not very difficult, if we skilfully mix and interlace our affairs of all kinds: for in every action the mind is to be so instructed and prepared, and our intentions to be so dependent upon and subordinate to each other, that if we cannot gain the highest step, we may contentedly take up with the second, or even the third. But if we can fix on no part of our prospect, then we should direct the pains we have been at to some other end; so, as if we receive no benefit for the present, yet at least to gain somewhat of future advantage. But if we can obtain no solid good from our endeavor neither in present nor in future, let us endeavor at least to gain a reputation by it, or some one thing or other; always computing with ourselves, that from every action we receive some advantage more or less, and by no means suffering the mind to despond or be astonished when we fail of our principal end. For there is nothing more contrary to political prudence than to be wholly intent upon any single thing, as he who is so must lose numberless opportunities which come sidewise in business, and which perhaps would be more favorable and conducive to the things that shall turn up hereafter, than to those that were before pursued. Let men therefore well understand the rule—“These things should be done, but those should not be omitted.”

The sixth precept is, that we do not too peremptorily oblige ourselves to anything, though it seem at first sight not liable to contingency; but always reserve a window open to fly out, or some secret back-door for retreat.

A seventh precept is, that old one of Bias, provided it be not used treacherously, but only by way of caution and moderation—“Love your friend as if he were to become an enemy, and hate your enemy as if he were to become your friend”; for it surprisingly betrays and corrupts all sorts of utility, to plunge one’s self too far in unhappy friendships, vexations, and turbulent quarrels or childish and empty emulations. And so much, by way of example, upon the doctrine or art of rising in life.

We are well aware that good fortune may be had upon easier conditions than are here laid down; for it falls almost spontaneously upon some men, while others procure it only by diligence and assiduity, without much art, though still with some caution. But as Cicero, when he draws the perfect orator, does not mean that every pleader either could or should be like him; and as in describing the prince or the politician, which some have undertaken, the model is formed to the perfect rules of art, and not according to common life—the same method is observed by us in this sketch of the self-politician.

It must be observed that the precepts we have laid down upon this subject are all of them lawful, and not such immoral artifices as Machiavel speaks of, who directs men to have little regard for virtue itself, but only for the show and public reputation of it: “Because,” says he, “the credit and opinion of virtue are a help to a man, but virtue itself a hindrance.” He also directs his politician to ground all his prudence on this supposition, that men cannot be truly and safely worked to his purpose but by fear, and therefore advises him to endeavor, by all possible means, to subject them to dangers and difficulties. Whence his politician may seem to be what the Italians call a sower of thorns. So Cicero cites this principle, “Let our friends fall, provided our enemies perish”; upon which the triumvirs acted, in purchasing the death of their enemies by the destruction of their nearest friends. So Catiline became a disturber and incendiary of the state, that he might the better fish his fortune in troubled waters, declaring, that if his fortune was set on fire, he would quench it, not with water, but destruction. And so Lysander would say, that children were to be decoyed with sweetmeats and men by false oaths; and there are numerous other corrupt and pernicious maxims of the same kind, more indeed, as in all other cases, than of such as are just and sound. Now if any man delight in this corrupt or tainted prudence, we deny not but he may take a short cut to fortune, as being thus disentangled and set at large from all restraint of laws, good-nature, and virtue, and having no regard but to his own promotion—though it is in life as in a journey, where the shortest road is the dirtiest, and yet the better not much about.

But if men were themselves, and not carried away with the tempest of ambition, they would be so far from studying these wicked arts, as rather to view them, not only in that general map of the world, which shows all to be vanity and vexation of spirit, but also in that more particular one, which represents a life separate from good actions as a curse; that the more eminent this life, the greater the curse; that the noblest reward of virtue is virtue itself; that the extremest punishment of vice is vice itself; and that as Virgil excellently observes, good actions are rewarded, as bad ones also are punished—by the consciousness that attends them.

And, indeed, while men are projecting and every way racking their thoughts to provide and take care for their fortunes, they ought, in the midst of all, to have an eye to the Divine Providence, which frequently overturns and brings to naught the machinations and deep devices of the wicked, according to that of the Scripture, “He has conceived iniquity, and shall bring forth vanity.” And although men were not in this pursuit to practice injustice and unlawful arts, yet a continual and restless search and striving after fortune, takes up too much of their time, who have nobler things to observe, and prevents them from paying their tribute to God, who exacts from all men the tenth part of their substance and the seventh of their time. Even the heathens observed, that man was not made to keep his mind always on the ground; and, like the serpent, eating the dust—

“Atque affigit humo divinæ particulam auræ.”

And again—

Some, however, may flatter themselves, that, by what sinister means soever their fortune be procured, they are determined to use it well when obtained; when it was said of Augustus Cæsar and Septimus Severus, that “they ought never to have been born, or never to have died”: so much evil they committed in aspiring, and so much good they did when seated. But let such men know that this recompensing of evil with good, though it may be approved after the action, yet is justly condemned in the design. Lastly, it may not be amiss, in this eager pursuit of fortune, for men to cool themselves a little with the saying of Charles the Fifth to his son; viz. “Fortune is like the ladies, who generally scorn and discard their overearnest admirers.” But this last remedy belongs to such as have their taste vitiated by a disease of the mind. Let mankind rather rest upon the cornerstone of divinity and philosophy, both which nearly agree in the thing that ought first to be sought. For Divinity says, “Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and all other things shall be added unto you”: so philosophy directs us first to seek the goods of the mind, and the rest will either be supplied, or are not much wanted. For although this foundation, laid by human hands, is sometimes placed upon the sand, as in the case of Brutus, who, at his death, cried out, “O virtue, I have reverenced thee as a being, but alas, thou art an empty name!” yet the same foundation is ever, by the Divine hand, fixed upon a rock. And here we conclude the doctrine of rising in life, and the general doctrine of business, together.