Nil desperandum. HOR. Lib. i. Od. vii. 27.
Avaunt despair!
I HAVE sometimes heard it disputed in conversation,
whether it be more laudable or desirable,
that a man should think too highly or too meanly
of himself: it is on all hands agreed to be best, that
he should think rightly; but since a fallible being
will always make some deviations from exact rectitude,
it is not wholly useless to inquire towards
which side it is safer to decline.
The prejudices of mankind seem to favour him
who errs by under-rating his own powers: he is considered
as a modest and harmless member of society,
not likely to break the peace by competition, to
endeavour after such splendour of reputation as may
dim the lustre of others, or to interrupt any in the
enjoyment of themselves; he is no man's rival, and,
therefore, may be every man's friend.
The opinion which a man entertains of himself
ought to be distinguished, in order to an accurate
discussion of this question, as it relates to persons
or to things. To think highly of ourselves in
comparison with others, to assume by our own authority
that precedence which none is willing to grant, must
be always invidious and offensive; but to rate our
powers high in proportion to things, and imagine
ourselves equal to great undertakings, while we leave
others in possession of the same abilities, cannot
with equal justice provoke censure.
It must be confessed, that self-love may dispose
us to decide too hastily in our own favour: but who is
hurt by the mistake? If we are incited by this vain
opinion to attempt more than we can perform, ours
is the labour, and ours is the disgrace.
But he that dares to think well of himself, will
not always prove to be mistaken; and the good
effects of his confidence will then appear in great
attempts and great performances: if he should not
fully complete his design, he will at least advance
it so far as to leave an easier task for him that
succeeds him; and even though he should wholly fail,
he will fail with honour.
But from the opposite errour, from torpid
despondency, can come no advantage; it is the frost of
the soul, which binds up all its powers, and congeals
life in perpetual sterility. He that has no hopes of
success, will make no attempts; and where nothing
is attempted, nothing can be done.
Every man should, therefore, endeavour to
maintain in himself a favourable opinion of the powers
of the human mind; which are, perhaps, in every
man, greater than they appear, and might, by diligent
cultivation, be exalted to a degree beyond
what their possessor presumes to believe. There is
scarce any man but has found himself able, at the
instigation of necessity, to do what in a state of
leisure and deliberation he would have concluded
impossible; and some of our species have signalized
themselves by such achievements, as prove that
there are few things above human hope.
It has been the policy of all nations to preserve,
by some public monuments, the memory of those
who have served their country by great exploits:
there is the same reason for continuing or reviving
the names of those, whose extensive abilities have
dignified humanity. An honest emulation may be
alike excited; and the philosopher's curiosity may
be inflamed by a catalogue of the works of Boyle
or Bacon, as Themistocles was kept awake by the
trophies of Miltiades.
Among the favourites of nature that have from
time to time appeared in the world, enriched with
various endowments and contrarieties of excellence,
none seems to have been exalted above the common
rate of humanity, than the man known about two
centuries ago by the appellation of the Admirable
Crichton; of whose history, whatever we may suppress
as surpassing credibility, yet we shall, upon
incontestable authority, relate enough to rank him
among prodigies.
"Virtue," says Virgil, "is better accepted when
it comes in a pleasing form:" the person of Crichton
was eminently beautiful; but his beauty was
consistent with such activity and strength, that
in fencing he would spring at one bound the
length of twenty feet upon his antagonist; and he
used the sword in either hand with such force and
dexterity, that scarce any one had courage to engage him.
Having studied at St. Andrews in Scotland, he
went to Paris in his twenty-first year, and affixed on
the gate of the college of Navarre a kind of challenge
to the learned of that university to dispute with him
on a certain day: offering to his opponents, whoever
they should be, the choice of ten languages, and of
all faculties and sciences. On the day appointed three
thousand auditors assembled, when four doctors of
the church and fifty masters appeared against him;
and one of his antagonists confesses, that the doctors
were defeated; that he gave proofs of knowledge
above the reach of man; and that a hundred years
passed without food or sleep, would not be sufficient
for the attainment of his learning. After a disputation
of nine hours, he was presented by the president
and professors with a diamond and a purse of gold,
and dismissed with repeated acclamations.
From Paris he went away to Rome, where he made
the same challenge, and had in the presence of the
pope and cardinals the same success. Afterwards he
contracted at Venice an acquaintance with Aldus
Manutius, by whom he was introduced to the learned
of that city: then visited Padua, where he engaged
in another publick disputation, beginning his
performance with an extemporal poem in praise of the
city and the assembly then present, and concluding
with an oration equally unpremeditated in commendation
of ignorance.
He afterwards published another challenge, in
which he declared himself ready to detect the errours
of Aristotle and all his commentators, either
in the common forms of logick, or in any which his
antagonists should propose of a hundred different
kinds of verse.
These acquisitions of learning, however
stupendous, were not gained at the expense of any pleasure
which youth generally indulges, or by the omission
of any accomplishment in which it becomes a gentleman
to excel: he practised in great perfection the
arts of drawing and painting, he was an eminent
performer in both vocal and instrumental musick, he
danced with uncommon gracefulness, and, on the day
after his disputation at Paris, exhibited his skill in
horsemanship before the court of France, where at a
publick match of tilting, he bore away the ring upon
his lance fifteen times together.
He excelled likewise in domestic games of less
dignity and reputation: and in the interval between
his challenge and disputation at Paris, he spent so
much of his time at cards, dice, and tennis, that a
lampoon was fixed upon the gate of the Sorbonne,
directing those that would see this monster of
erudition, to look for him at the tavern.
So extensive was his acquaintance with life and
manners, that in an Italian comedy composed by
himself, and exhibited before the court of Mantua,
he is said to have personated fifteen different
characters; in all which he might succeed without great
difficulty, since he had such power of retention, that
once hearing an oration of an hour, he would repeat
it exactly, and in the recital follow the speaker
through all his variety of tone and gesticulation.
Nor was his skill in arms less than in learning, or
his courage inferior to his skill: there was a prize-
fighter at Mantua, who travelling about the world,
according to the barbarous custom of that age, as a
general challenger, had defeated the most celebrated
masters in many parts of Europe; and in Mantua,
where he then resided, had killed three that appeared
against him. The duke repented that he had granted
him his protection; when Crichton, looking on his
sanguinary success with indignation, offered to stake
fifteen hundred pistoles, and mount the stage against
him. The duke with some reluctance consented, and
on the day fixed the combatants appeared: their
weapon seems to have been single rapier, which was
then newly introduced in Italy. The prize-fighter
advanced with great violence and fierceness, and
Crichton contended himself calmly to ward his
passes, and suffered him to exhaust his vigour by
his own fury. Crichton then became the assailant;
and pressed upon him with such force and agility,
that he thrust him thrice through the body, and
saw him expire: he then divided the prize he had
won among the widows whose husbands had been
killed.
The death of this wonderful man I should be
willing to conceal, did I not know that every reader
will inquire curiously after that fatal hour, which is
common to all human beings, however distinguished
from each other by nature or by fortune.
The duke of Mantua, having received so many
proofs of his various merit, made him tutor to his
son Vicentio di Gonzaga, a prince of loose manners
and turbulent disposition. On this occasion it was,
that he composed the comedy in which he exhibited
so many different characters with exact propriety.
But his honour was of short continuance; for
as he was one night in the time of Carnival
rambling about the streets, with his guitar in his hand,
he was attacked by six men masked. Neither his
courage nor skill in his exigence deserted him: he
opposed them with such activity and spirit, that
he soon dispersed them, and disarmed their leader,
who throwing off his mask, discovered himself to
be the prince his pupil. Crichton, falling on his knees,
took his own sword by the point, and presented it to
the prince; who immediately seized it, and instigated,
as some say, by jealousy, according to others,
only by drunken fury and brutal resentment, thrust
him through the heart.
Thus was the Admirable Crichton brought into
that state, in which he could excel the meanest of
mankind only by a few empty honours paid to his
memory: the court of Mantua testified their esteem
by a publick mourning, the contemporary wits were
profuse of their encomiums, and the palaces of Italy
were adorned with pictures, representing him on
horseback with a lance in one hand and a book
in the other[i].
[i] This paper is enumerated by Chalmers among those which
Johnson dictated, not to Bathurst, but to Hawkesworth. It is an
elegant summary of Crichton's life which is in Mackenzie's
Writers of the Scotch Nation. See a fuller account by the Earl
of Buchan and Dr. Kippis in the Biog. Brit. and the recently
published one by Mr. Frazer Tytler.