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 in our comedies in some sort moves and gulls us.  That which I myself adore in kings is the crowd of their adorers; all reverence and submission are due to them, except that of the understanding:  my reason is not obliged to bow and bend; my knees are.  Melanthius being asked what he thought of the tragedy of Dionysius, “I could not see it,” said he, “it was so clouded with language”; so most of those who judge of the discourses of great men ought to say, “I did not understand his words, they were so clouded with gravity, grandeur, and majesty.”  Antisthenes one day tried to persuade the Athenians to give order that their asses might be employed in tilling the ground as well as the horses were; to which it was answered that that animal was not destined for such a service:  “That’s all one,” replied he, “you have only to order it:  for the most ignorant and incapable men you employ in the commands of your wars incontinently become worthy enough, because you employ them”; to which the custom of so many people, who canonise the king they have chosen out of their own body, and are not content only to honour, but must adore them, comes very near.  Those of Mexico, after the ceremonies of their king’s coronation are over, dare no more look him in the face; but, as if they had deified him by his royalty.  Amongst the oaths they make him take to maintain their religion, their laws, and liberties, to be valiant, just, and mild, he moreover swears to make the sun run his course in his wonted light, to drain the clouds at fit seasons, to make rivers run their course, and to cause the earth to bear all things necessary for his people.