“Quos fama obscura recondit.”

     ["Whom an obscure reputation conceals.”—­AEneid, v. 302.]

Even those whom we see behave themselves well, three months or three years after they have departed hence, are no more mentioned than if they had never been.  Whoever will justly consider, and with due proportion, of what kind of men and of what sort of actions the glory sustains itself in the records of history, will find that there are very few actions and very few persons of our times who can there pretend any right.  How many worthy men have we known to survive their own reputation, who have seen and suffered the honour and glory most justly acquired in their youth, extinguished in their own presence?  And for three years of this fantastic and imaginary life we must go and throw away our true and essential life, and engage ourselves in a perpetual death!  The sages propose to themselves a nobler and more just end in so important an enterprise: 

          “Recte facti, fecisse merces est:  officii fructus,
          ipsum officium est.”

     ["The reward of a thing well done is to have done it; the fruit
     of a good service is the service itself.”—­Seneca, Ep., 8.]

It were, peradventure, excusable in a painter or other artisan, or in a rhetorician or a grammarian, to endeavour to raise himself a name by his works; but the actions of virtue are too noble in themselves to seek any other reward than from their own value, and especially to seek it in the vanity of human judgments.

If this false opinion, nevertheless, be of such use to the public as to keep men in their duty; if the people are thereby stirred up to virtue; if princes are touched to see the world bless the memory of Trajan, and abominate that of Nero; if it moves them to see the name of that great beast, once so terrible and feared, so freely cursed and reviled by every schoolboy, let it by all means increase, and be as much as possible nursed up and cherished amongst us; and Plato, bending his whole endeavour to make his citizens virtuous, also advises them not to despise the good repute and esteem of the people; and says it falls out, by a certain Divine inspiration, that even the wicked themselves oft-times, as well by word as opinion, can rightly distinguish the virtuous from the wicked.  This person and his tutor are both marvellous and bold artificers everywhere to add divine operations and revelations where human force is wanting: 

          “Ut tragici poetae confugiunt ad deum,
          cum explicare argumenti exitum non possunt:” 

     ["As tragic poets fly to some god when they cannot explain
     the issue of their argument.”—­Cicero, De Nat.  Deor., i. 20.]