“Permitte divis caetera.”

          ["Leave the rest to the gods.”—­Horace, Od., i. 9, 9.]

Good and ill fortune are, in my opinion, two sovereign powers; ’tis folly to think that human prudence can play the part of Fortune; and vain is his attempt who presumes to comprehend both causes and consequences, and by the hand to conduct the progress of his design; and most especially vain in the deliberations of war.  There was never greater circumspection and military prudence than sometimes is seen amongst us:  can it be that men are afraid to lose themselves by the way, that they reserve themselves to the end of the game?  I moreover affirm that our wisdom itself and consultation, for the most part commit themselves to the conduct of chance; my will and my reason are sometimes moved by one breath, and sometimes by another; and many of these movements there are that govern themselves without me:  my reason has uncertain and casual agitations and impulsions: 

         “Vertuntur species animorum, et pectora motus
          Nunc alios, alios, dum nubila ventus agebat,
          Concipiunt.”

["The aspects of their minds change; and they conceive now such
ideas, now such, just so long as the wind agitated the clouds.” 
—­Virgil, Georg., i. 42.]

Let a man but observe who are of greatest authority in cities, and who best do their own business; we shall find that they are commonly men of the least parts:  women, children, and madmen have had the fortune to govern great kingdoms equally well with the wisest princes, and Thucydides says, that the stupid more ordinarily do it than those of better understandings; we attribute the effects of their good fortune to their prudence: 

                    “Ut quisque Fortuna utitur,
          Ita praecellet; atque exinde sapere illum omnes dicimus;”

     ["He makes his way who knows how to use Fortune, and thereupon we
     all call him wise.”—­Plautus, Pseudol., ii. 3, 13.]

wherefore I say unreservedly, events are a very poor testimony of our worth and parts.

Now, I was upon this point, that there needs no more but to see a man promoted to dignity; though we knew him but three days before a man of little regard, yet an image of grandeur of sufficiency insensibly steals into our opinion, and we persuade ourselves that, being augmented in reputation and train, he is also increased in merit; we judge of him, not according to his worth, but as we do by counters, according to the prerogative of his place.  If it happen so that he fall again, and be mixed with the common crowd, every one inquires with amazement into the cause of his having been raised so high.  “Is this he,” say they, “was he no wiser when he was there?  Do princes satisfy themselves with so little?  Truly, we were in good hands.”  This is a thing that I have often seen in my time.  Nay, even the very disguise of grandeur represented