The French academie Fully discoursed and finished in foure bookes. 1. Institution of manners and callings of all estates. 2. Concerning the soule and body of man. 3. A notable description of the whole world, &c. 4. Christian philosophie, instructing the true and onely meanes to eternall life. This fourth part neuer before published in English. All written by the first author, Peter de la Primaudaye, Esquire, Lord of Barre, Chauncellour, and Steward of the French Kings house.

Of Reprehension and Admonition. Chap. 14.

ACHI∣TOB.

DIuine Plato writing a letter to Dionysius the tyrant of Syracusa in the behalfe of Helicon the Mathematician, after many and great commendations spoken of him, addeth this, that he wrote these things of a man, that is, of a liuing * 1.1 creature, by nature mutable and soone changed. The like also he spake of those that were well brought vp and instructed in Athens. I feare yet (quoth he) that beeing men, and the of-spring of other men, they will make knowne the great infirmity and frailtie of mans life, which truly, being compassed about, and as it were besieged with infinite miseries, is so easily troubled, that the wisest stand alwaies in need of instruction, and ought to be awakened and admonished of their dutie. Whereunto the free reprehension, and sweete admonition of a friend doth not a little profit. Wherefore my counsell is, that we handle it presently, without departing from the matter of our former discourse.

ASER.

True friends (saith Socrates) must not through flattery seeke to gaine the fauour of their friends, but reprooue them rather, that for their benefite they may reduce them to a better way.

AMANA.

To admonish and to bee admonished (saith Seneca) are proper to true friendship. And Cicero saith, that a man may despaire of his safetie whose eares are closed vp against the truth, and cannot abide reprehension. Let vs therefore heare ARAM handle this subiect.

ARAM.

One of the greatest, most profitable and necessarie fruits, which spring out of * 1.2 euery good and holy friendship, and are noted and reaped by the acceptacle and long con∣uersation of a prudent and wise friend, is that free reprehension and sweete admonition, which ought to be mutual between al true friends: seeing the fraile incōstancy of man is such, that euen the iustest man (as the Scripture saith) sinneth seuen times a day. But man hauing pride and presumption naturally rooted in his soule, howsoeuer hee seeth a mote in his bro∣thers eye, yet he perceiueth not the great beame that closeth vp his owne eyes. This maketh him bold (as it is the propertie of vice to bee headstrong) to defend and maintaine, that, hee hath alwaies done well, and not easily to hearken to his reasons that reprooueth him were it not that the mightie and inviolable bond of friendship, as of a second-selfe did constraine him to lend his eare to his friend through the opinion which hee hath conceiued of him and his vertue. True it is, that if there were amongst vs such a reformation of life and man∣ners, and that loue ioyned with obedience might take place now, as it did long since a∣mongst * 1.3 the Lacedaemonians, (who obserued this custome inviolable, to punish him that did not reprooue anothers fault committed in his presence, with the same punishment which

was inflicted vpon the offender himselfe, and sharpely to chastise him that resisted, or was angry at the reprehension) we should not see so great winking at vices and imperfections, no•• such impudent resisting and shamelesse contempt of all good admonition, as reigneth now adaies amongst vs, who vnskilfully terme this friendship, not to correct one another, but rather to couer and winke at all faults. But seeing our age is so greatly corrupted, we may easily know what a pretious and necessary thing it is, to haue found a prudent and wise friend, who knoweth how to vse wholesome and sharpe reprehension, as a preser∣uatiue medicine, that saueth the patients life, being ministred in conuenient time, and to purpose. Which thing if it be not wisely obserued herein, (as in all other things) it greatly hurteth, and depriueth the admonition of profite and efficacy. Therefore a friend being op∣posite to a flatterer, who studieth for nothing but to please, to do and to speake to his liking whom he flattereth, (which is ynough to ouerthrow friendship, whose strength is onely in vertue) ought to deale as a skilfull musitian, who in the tuneing of his instrument setteth vp some of his strings, and letteth downe others. So a prudent friend yeeldeth vnto some things, but refuseth and contrarieth others, changing his mind as honestie and profit require. * 1.4 He is not afraid sometime to make his friend sadde with intent and purpose to profite him, not to breake friendship. Likewise he is not greatly to care although he see his friend angred, so that he be bettered considering that anger may better be tollerated than vice. Agesilaus * 1.5 king of Sparta said, that he liked well to be praised of such friends as would not spare him at all, but were ready to blame him also whensoeuer he gaue them occasion so to do, To this ef∣fect Epictetus said, that as a woolfe in some sort resembled a dogge, so a flatterer was like a friend: and therefore that we ought to beware, least in stead of good dogs for a safegard, wee receiue vnto vs most pernitious and hurtfull woolues. For it is bettee (as Antisthenes said) to stand at the curtesie of crowes then of flatterers, seeing the one deuoure dead carkasses, and the other liuing men. Now let vs consider of the meanes how to vse aptly and to purpose this so healthfull medicine in friendship, I meane reprehension and admonition. Sometimes it is * 1.6 necessary (saith Cicero) for vs to rebuke our friends, wherein wee are to vse a more austere countenance and vehement speech: but to great seuerity and ouermuch sadnes ought to bee far from vs. For although grauity be a vertue, yet friendship is more familiar, free and pleasant. We must also take heed that it appeare not we be in choler, but rather that we come against our wils to doe this duty, as surgeons do to cut off and to burne, and that very rarely, when there is no way to finde or vse any other receit. Moreouer, if one behold his friend in some great affliction, knowing it to be the nature of aduersity to make men of troubled and vex∣ed spirits, soone cholericke and vnwilling to heare, and at such a time to be offended a good and true speeches (euen as hony although it bee sweete, yet breedeth griefe when it is applyed to vlcers) I say a friend well aduised ought then to beware that hee vse no sharpe or biting words, which are apt to prouoke him to anger, that is pressed with aduersity. And this did Pythagoras meane to teach vs learnedly by that enigmaticall precept or riddle, which forbiddeth vs to Stirre vp the fire with a sword, A man ought rather in such a case to minister some such sweete and gracious speeceh of comfort, as yeeldeth and giueth place a little to the iust griefe of his friend, and from whence hee may draw some ease of his euill, whether it be in talking thereof together with him, or otherwise in lamenting the same. And this must be done before any mention be made of a remedy, or any other conuenient matter of talking with him be sought after. In this sort for a man to comfort himselfe is no lesse difficult a matter (as Thales said) than it is for a Phisition to cure himselfe. Aboue all things wee must be very circumspect when wee see our friend lately angred by reason of some pregnant and notable iniurie or wrong receiued from another. For then in stead of heing importunate with him presently to forgiue the iniury, or of seeking to perswade him to thinke it a small fault, thereby endeauoring at the first dash to bring him to reason, wee must intreate him gently to deferre the punishment, and after by little and little, and by degrees to pacific and ap∣pease him. For it is very certaine, that when wrath is much kindled, and the heart inraged, a man cannot easily receiue comfort, nor so su••denly conceiue and vnderstand reason. And therefore Plutark amongst other things gaue this counsell to the Emperor Traian, to be pati∣ent towards furious folkes, considering that time moderateth as many things as reason doth change. Notwithstanding when the question is of restraining a disordinate pleasure, of * 1.7 repressing choler and peeuishnesse that passeth the bounds of all reason, of brideling inso∣lency which is gone too farre out of square, of hindering some notable couetousnesse, or of staying some foolish motion or superfluous passion, then is the time wherein a prudent

and good friend ought to bee vehement and earnest, and to double the speech of his admo∣nition: yea to frame himselfe so, as if the imperfection proceeded from himselfe, and as though his owne vtter vndoing lay thereupon. In such a case he is to follow that good Grae∣cian captaine Phociou, who, when his friend would haue cast away himselfe, saide, that hee would not suffer him, because he was made his friend for that purpose. Therfore when∣soeuer any such occasion is offered, a man is not to stay vntil the fault be committed, that he may then giue his friend some good instruction. For then it would come too late and no lesse vnfitly, than that Porters warning, who after he had hit Cato, bad him beware. What (answered Cato) wilt thou giue me yet another blow? Moreouer, we must take good heede, that all reprehending of one friend by another be done (as we commonly say) between two priuate wals, that is, secretly when the dore is shut: because the discouery of any sinne or vice (euen as of some foule disease) is alwaies shamefull. The example of these two Sages, Socrates and Plato, wil fitly agree to this matter. Socrates being somewhat more earnest than his cu∣stome was with one of his familiar friends before a great company, Plato could not containe himselfe, but said vnto him: Had not this beene better spoken priuately apart? And had not your selfe (quoth Socrates) done better, if you had told me priuately of this which now you vtter? Whereupon we may further learne this lessen, that it is alwaies easie enough to re∣prooue another, but that all our reprehensions are blame woorthy, if we reape not this in∣struction thereby, to correct, or to auoide the like errors in our selues. Thus doth the selfe∣same Plato teach vs, saying, that we must descend into our inward parts, and say euery one with himselfe. Am not I such a one? Otherwise a man might truely reproch vs with that saying taken out of an old Tragedic, Ech wounded wight doth seeke to salue the sores that others haue. But as we see our owne eies shine within the apples of our neighbours eies, so ought we in the life * 1.8 of other men to lay our owne before vs, and to purge them of those vices which wee re∣prehende. For as Lysander made this answere to Megarian, who thrust himselfe forward to speake alowd for the libertie of Graecia in a generall assemblie of counsell, That speech my friend had neede of a mightie citie, so may it be said to euery one that vseth freely to reprehende others, that his manners had need to be well reformed, Therefore Plato said that he corre∣cted Speusippus by the example of his life. In like sort, Xenocrates casting his eie vpon Polemon, * 1.9 who in dissolute apparell was entred into his schoole, changed and reformed all by his one∣ly lookes. This also will be a good and honest way to make our reprehension both profita∣ble and well liked of, when we infold our selues in that fault, which we reprooue in others: as that wise man Socrates vsed to do, when he checked and taught young men: saying, that him∣selfe was not deliuered from ignorance, but had neede to be instructed with them in vertue, and to seeke out the knowledge of the truth. For when one accuseth himselfe as a subiect to the same faults that his friend is, and protesteth that his meaning is to correct and reprooue him, as if hee were himselfe, it causeth him that reprehendeth to be loued and reuerenced, and procureth greater credite to his sayings. Let vs further obserue this, that euery reprehen∣sion betweene friend and friend ought to be pure, and voide of all priuate passions. Insomuch that if we perceiue our selues contemned, and after a sort despised, yet must we testifie our sin∣cere and louing affection in speaking freely in the behalfe of others that are likewise de∣spised, but not framing our talke in any sort for our owne defence. Euery admonition thus grounded as I haue said, cannot but be profitable and well liked of our friende, as that which causeth the offender both to reuerence him that gaue it, and to blush for shame, not daring once to lift vp his eies against it. But for asmuch as naturally we hate to be reprooued and bla∣med, as we learned in the beginning of this discourse, wee must know that to cure such a per∣nitious inclination, nothing can profit vs so much as to beleeue, that the beginning of good life is to be blamed & baited at. For man, by nature inclined more to vice than to vertue, can neuer hate euill before he vnderstand what misery it bringeth. So that when he sinneth, if his * 1.10 friend lay the infamie and shame of his offence before his eies: vnlesse he be altogether past shame, and fraught with impudency, he must needes giue place to the truth, which is inuinci∣ble, and so with shame not to be discommended, he is induced to reforme his life according to the patterne of comelinesse and honesty. Therefore Plato saide, that wee are greatly beholding to them that tell vs of our faults, and shew vs what way we must keepe: because it is better for vs to amende by beeing corrected of another, then to vndoe our selues by foolish perseuerance. Moreouer as all true and perfect loue ought to be generall, and to extend it selfe indifferently vnto all without exception of person, so likewise euery one according to his seuerall place, ought to admonish and to correct those that doe amisse as

often as occasion is offered vnto them, and chiefely they that are neere to great men are bound to doeit, but with discretion and great deliberation. Thus much did Solon signifie to one, who by way of admonishment told him, that princes were either not to bee approched vnto, or else to be pleased: Nay contrariwise (said the wise man) either they are not to become * 1.11 neere vnto, or els the truth is to be told them. We may obserue infinite examples amongst the auncients woorthy to be remembred, of the great freedome, which they vsed in repre∣hending and shewing the faults not onely of their familiar friends, but generally of all o∣thers: and especially of their kings, princes and magistrates, who because they see and heare for the most part by other mens eies and eares, ought necessarily to haue such friendes, coun∣sellers and seruants about them, as will freely tel them the truth, as hereafter we may discourse more at large. This caused Plutarke to say, that a Philosopher ought chiefely to keepe com∣pany * 1.12 with princes and great lords, and that it was the point of a wise man, and of one that is well affected to the common-wealth, to be endued with common loue, and to inquire after, or to accept & entertaine such a friendship, as might be commodious and beneficiall to ma∣ny in particular and much more in generall to them all. And truely they that company with priuate men, and labor to instruct them, may wel make them contented, mild and gracious in themselues, & profitable to them onely: but he that taketh away an euill quality from a Lord and magistrate: or directeth his will and intention, as it ought to be, plaieth the part of a Phi∣losopher in the behalfe of common commodity, and correcteth that mould and patterne ac∣cording to which all the subiects are framed and gouerned. This kind of free admonition So∣lon vsed towards Croesus, whom he perceiued to be blowen and puft vp with pride, through an opinion of earthly and vncertaine felicity, admonishing him to expect what the end * 1.13 would be. The gods (quoth he to him) haue giuen to vs the residue of the Graecians all things after a meane sort, and namely a base and popular wisedome, not royall or magnificall: which as it giueth vs to vnderstand, that the life of man is, subiect to infinite changes, so it forbiddeth to trust or glory in the grounds of this world, or to make great account of any mans felicity that is yet in danger of alteration. For time daily bringeth many sundry accidents to many hereof hee neuer thought before. But when the gods continue the prosperous e∣state of man vnto the end of his daies, then will we account him happy. The desire which Plato had to profite many caused him to saile from Graecia into Sicilia, that by graue discour∣ses and wise instructions he might stay and containe within the bounds of reason the young * 1.14 yeares of Dyonisius, prince of that countrey, who through vnbridled liberty, and power not limited, waued hither and thither without restraint. Afterward when hee began to bee in loue with the beauty of learning, hee left off by little and little his drunkennesse, mas∣kings, and whoredomes, wherein before he gloried, insomuch that his court was wholy chan∣ged vpon a sudden, as if it had bene inspired from heauen. But within a while after, Diony∣sius giuing eare to flattterers, banished Plato, to whom when he tooke his leaue of him, the tyrant said, I doubt not, Plato, but thou wilt speake ill of me when thou art in the Vniuersitie amongst thy companions and friends. Whereupon the Philosopher smiling, and obseruing that freedome of speech, which hee had alwaies vsed towards him, made this answer, I pray God, Sir, there may neuer bee so great want of matter to speake of in the Vniuersitie, that we neede to speake of thee. He was no sooner shipped from Sicilia, but Dionysius returned to his former fashions, and called backe againe dancers, minstrils, bauds, and such like vermine, whereof commonly there is no want about great personages; so that presently you might haue seene his court, yea all the rest of his people, ouer whelmed in all delights and pleasures. Such great force hath a prince to altar and change at his pleasure the hearts of his subiects, but yet rather alwaies to vice and folly than to vertue. And to goe on with our matters of the free and bold admonition of great men, the selfe same Plato vsed it very fitly towards Dion, who had driuen Dionysius out of his iurisdiction, and that at such time as the said Dion was in the greatest glory of all his prosperity. Amongst other things he willed him to beware of ar∣rogancy, as of her that dwelt with solitarines: that is to say, which in the end was forsaken of * 1.15 all the world. The same kinde of admonition Spensippus followed, writing to the same Di∣on, willing him not to presume to waxe proud of himselfe, because he heard women and chil∣dren vtter his praises and commendation, but to haue regard onely to this, that Sicilia might ••e adorned with religion and piety towards God, with iustice and good lawes to∣wards * 1.16 men and that the Vniuersitie might alwaies be had in honor and estimation. O coun∣sell full of Christian instruction, and worthy to be daily set before the eies of Christian prin∣ces, who may also learne of Demetrius king of Macedonia to take in good part, to reape * 1.17

commoditie, and to reward those that reprehend and admonish them of their dutie. After he had taken the citie of the Athenians, who had rebelled against him, and stood in great neede of victuals, he caused a generall assembly of the people to be made, wherein he decla∣red, that he gaue them freely a great quantitie of corne. In which oration it fell out so, that he committed an incongruitie of speech, whereat one of the inhabitants suddainely stood vp, and pronounced the word aright as he should haue vttered it. For this correction (quoth Demetrius) I giue thee besides fiue thousand measures of wheat. The example of good Tra∣ian * 1.18 writing to his master Plutarke, ought especially to be imitated of great men. I aduertise thee (quoth he) that hence forward I will not vse thy seruice to any other thing, than to counsell me what I ought to doe, and to tell me of those faults, whereunto I may fall. For if Rome take me for a defender of her Common-wealth, I make account of thee as of the beholder of my life. And therefore if at any time I seeme vnto thee not well pleased when thou reprehendest me, I pray thee master not to take it in ill part. For at such a time my griefe shall not be for the admonition thou vsest towards me, but for the shame I shall haue because I offended. Philoxenus the poet may also serue for a witnesse of free correction, voide of all flatterie in regard of great men. For when Dionysius prince of Syracusa sent vnto him a * 1.19 tragedie of his owne making that he should reade and correct it, he sent it backe againe vnto him all rased and blotted from the beginning to the end, because hee found it in no respect worthy to be published. Neither doth antiquity onely affoord vs such examples of bold re∣prehension by word of mouth, vsed by wise men in old time, but there hath beene also in our ages worthy examples of base and contemptible men, yet full of good learning. For proofe hereof may serue that quip, which not long since a peasant gaue vnto an Archbishop of Cul∣len, who was well accompanied with armed men according to the custome of Almaigne. This countrie fellow beginning to laugh, and being demanded by the prelate the cause ther∣of; I laugh (quoth he vnto him) at Saint Peter, prince of prelates, because he liued and died in pouertie to leaue his successors rich. The Archbishop beeing touched therewith, and desi∣rous * 1.20 to cleare himselfe, replied that he went with such a companie, as he was a Duke. Where∣at the peasant laughing more then before, said, I would gladly know (Sir) of you, where you thinke the Archbishop should be, if that Duke of whom you speake were in hell. Neither may we omit the answer which a poore Franciscan Frier made to Pope Sixtus the fourth, who * 1.21 from the same order being come to that great dignitie, shewed him his great wealth and ri∣ches, saying, Frier, I cannot say as Saint Peter did, I haue neither gold nor siluer. No truly (an∣swered the Franciscan) no more can you say as he said to the impotent and sicke of the palsie, Arise and walke. Now concluding our present discourse, we learne that free reprehension and gentle admonition grounded vpon reason and truth, and applied fitlie, are of such vertue and efficacie with men, but especially with a friend, that nothing is more necessarie or healthfull in true and perfect friendship: and therefore ought to be ioyned inseparably therewith, ac∣cording to that saying of the wise man, that Open rebuke is better than secret loue, and that The wounds made by a louer are faithfull, but the kisses of him that hateth, dangerous. In the meane time * 1.22 we must (as Saint Paul saith) restore those that fall with the spirit of meekenesse, considering ourselues, and neuer betray the truth for feare of the mightier sort. * 1.23

Notes

• * 1.1

  Man •••• mu∣table.
• * 1.2

  One of the greatest fruits reaped in friendship.
• * 1.3

  A notable cu∣stome of the Lacedemoni∣ans.
• * 1.4

  A friend cō∣pared to a musition.
• * 1.5

  Agesilaus.
• * 1.6

  How we must vse reprehen∣sion.
• * 1.7

  Time b••••••∣eth as many things to good order as reason doth.
• * 1.8

  We must cor∣rect in our selues those faults which we reprehend in others.
• * 1.9

  Sundry instru¦ctions how to admonish wisely.
• * 1.10

  Reprehension is the begin∣ning of good life.
• * 1.11

  Solons good aduice for counsellers to princes.
• * 1.12

  Philosophers ought ••o be conuersant with princes.
• * 1.13

  Solons coun∣sell giuen to Croesus.
• * 1.14

  Why Plato went into Sicilia to Di∣onysius.
• * 1.15

  Arrogancie dwelleth in the end with solitarines••••.
• * 1.16

  Notable coun••••l•• for p••••n••es.
• * 1.17

  Demetrius.
• * 1.18

  Traians letter to Plutarke.
• * 1.19

  How Philox∣enus corre∣cted Dionysi∣us tragedie.
• * 1.20

  The free gird of a peasant giuen to an Archbishop.
• * 1.21

  The like gi∣uen to Pope Sixtus the 4. by a Frier.
• * 1.22

  Prou. 27. 5.
• * 1.23

  Gal. 6. 1.