with his present estate; but as Boethius infers, [1760]there is
something in every one of us which before trial we seek, and having
tried abhor: [1761] we earnestly wish, and eagerly covet, and are
eftsoons weary of it. Thus between hope and fear, suspicions, angers,
[1762]Inter spemque metumque, timores inter et iras, betwixt falling
in, falling out, &c., we bangle away our best days, befool out our
times, we lead a contentious, discontent, tumultuous, melancholy,
miserable life; insomuch, that if we could foretell what was to come,
and it put to our choice, we should rather refuse than accept of this
painful life. In a word, the world itself is a maze, a labyrinth of
errors, a desert, a wilderness, a den of thieves, cheaters, &c., full
of filthy puddles, horrid rocks, precipitiums, an ocean of adversity,
an heavy yoke, wherein infirmities and calamities overtake, and follow
one another, as the sea waves; and if we scape Scylla, we fall foul on
Charybdis, and so in perpetual fear, labour, anguish, we run from one
plague, one mischief, one burden to another, duram servientes
servitutem, and you may as soon separate weight from lead, heat from
fire, moistness from water, brightness from the sun, as misery,
discontent, care, calamity, danger, from a man. Our towns and cities
are but so many dwellings of human misery. In which grief and sorrow
([1763]as he right well observes out of Solon) innumerable troubles,
labours of mortal men, and all manner of vices, are included, as in so
many pens. Our villages are like molehills, and men as so many emmets,
busy, busy still, going to and fro, in and out, and crossing one
another's projects, as the lines of several sea-cards cut each other in
a globe or map. Now light and merry, but ([1764]as one follows it)
by-and-by sorrowful and heavy; now hoping, then distrusting; now
patient, tomorrow crying out; now pale, then red; running, sitting,
sweating, trembling, halting, &c. Some few amongst the rest, or perhaps
one of a thousand, may be Pullus Jovis, in the world's esteem, Gallinae
filius albae, an happy and fortunate man, ad invidiam felix, because
rich, fair, well allied, in honour and office; yet peradventure ask
himself, and he will say, that of all others [1765]he is most miserable
and unhappy. A fair shoe, Hic soccus novus, elegans, as he [1766]said,
sed nescis ubi urat, but thou knowest not where it pincheth. It is not
another man's opinion can make me happy: but as [1767]Seneca well hath
it, He is a miserable wretch that doth not account himself happy,
though he be sovereign lord of a world: he is not happy, if he think
himself not to be so; for what availeth it what thine estate is, or
seem to others, if thou thyself dislike it? A common humour it is of
all men to think well of other men's fortunes, and dislike their own:
[1768]Cui placet alterius, sua nimirum est odio sors; but [1769]qui fit
Mecoenas, &c., how comes it to pass, what's the cause of it? Many men
are of such a perverse nature, they are well pleased with nothing,
(saith [1770] Theodoret,) neither with riches nor poverty, they
complain when they are well and when they are sick, grumble at all
fortunes, prosperity and adversity; they are troubled in a cheap year,
in a barren, plenty or not plenty, nothing pleaseth them, war nor
peace, with children, nor without. This for the most part is the humour
of us all, to be discontent, miserable, and most unhappy, as we think
at least; and show me him that is not so, or that ever was otherwise.
Quintus Metellus his felicity is infinitely admired amongst the Romans,
insomuch that as [1771]Paterculus mentioneth of him, you can scarce
find of any nation, order, age, sex, one for happiness to be compared
unto him: he had, in a word, Bona animi, corporis et fortunae, goods of
mind, body, and fortune, so had P. Mutianus, [1772]Crassus. Lampsaca,
that Lacedaemonian lady, was such another in [1773]Pliny's conceit, a
king's wife, a king's mother, a king's daughter: and all the world
esteemed as much of Polycrates of Samos. The Greeks brag of their
Socrates, Phocion, Aristides; the Psophidians in particular of their
Aglaus, Omni vita felix, ab omni periculo immunis (which by the way
Pausanias held impossible;) the Romans of their [1774] Cato, Curius,
Fabricius, for their composed fortunes, and retired estates, government
of passions, and contempt of the world: yet none of all these were
happy, or free from discontent, neither Metellus, Crassus, nor
Polycrates, for he died a violent death, and so did Cato; and how much
evil doth Lactantius and Theodoret speak of Socrates, a weak man, and
so of the rest. There is no content in this life, but as [1775]he said,
All is vanity and vexation of spirit; lame and imperfect. Hadst thou
Sampson's hair, Milo's strength, Scanderbeg's arm, Solomon's wisdom,
Absalom's beauty, Croesus' wealth, Pasetis obulum, Caesar's valour,
Alexander's spirit, Tully's or Demosthenes' eloquence, Gyges' ring,
Perseus' Pegasus, and Gorgon's head, Nestor's years to come, all this
would not make thee absolute; give thee content, and true happiness in
this life, or so continue it. Even in the midst of all our mirth,
jollity, and laughter, is sorrow and grief, or if there be true
happiness amongst us, 'tis but for a time,
[1776]Desinat in piscem mulier formosa superne:
A handsome woman with a fish's tail,
a fair morning turns to a lowering afternoon. Brutus and Cassius, once
renowned, both eminently happy, yet you shall scarce find two (saith
Paterculus) quos fortuna maturius destiturit, whom fortune sooner
forsook. Hannibal, a conqueror all his life, met with his match, and
was subdued at last, Occurrit forti, qui mage fortis erit. One is
brought in triumph, as Caesar into Rome, Alcibiades into Athens,
coronis aureis donatus, crowned, honoured, admired; by-and-by his
statues demolished, he hissed out, massacred, &c. [1777]Magnus
Gonsalva, that famous Spaniard, was of the prince and people at first
honoured, approved; forthwith confined and banished. Admirandas
actiones; graves plerunque sequuntur invidiae, et acres calumniae: 'tis
Polybius his observation, grievous enmities, and bitter calumnies,
commonly follow renowned actions. One is born rich, dies a beggar;
sound today, sick tomorrow; now in most flourishing estate, fortunate
and happy, by-and-by deprived of his goods by foreign enemies, robbed
by thieves, spoiled, captivated, impoverished, as they of [1778]Rabbah
put under iron saws, and under iron harrows, and under axes of iron,
and cast into the tile kiln,
[1779]Quid me felicem toties jactastis amici,
Qui cecidit, stabili non erat ille gradu.
He that erst marched like Xerxes with innumerable armies, as rich as
Croesus, now shifts for himself in a poor cock-boat, is bound in iron
chains, with Bajazet the Turk, and a footstool with Aurelian, for a
tyrannising conqueror to trample on. So many casualties there are, that
as Seneca said of a city consumed with fire, Una dies interest inter
maximum civitatem et nullam, one day betwixt a great city and none: so
many grievances from outward accidents, and from ourselves, our own
indiscretion, inordinate appetite, one day betwixt a man and no man.
And which is worse, as if discontents and miseries would not come fast
enough upon us: homo homini daemon, we maul, persecute, and study how
to sting, gall, and vex one another with mutual hatred, abuses,
injuries; preying upon and devouring as so many, [1780]ravenous birds;
and as jugglers, panders, bawds, cozening one another; or raging as
[1781]wolves, tigers, and devils, we take a delight to torment one
another; men are evil, wicked, malicious, treacherous, and
[1782]naught, not loving one another, or loving themselves, not
hospitable, charitable, nor sociable as they ought to be, but
counterfeit, dissemblers, ambidexters, all for their own ends,
hard-hearted, merciless, pitiless, and to benefit themselves, they care
not what mischief they procure to others. [1783]Praxinoe and Gorgo in
the poet, when they had got in to see those costly sights, they then
cried bene est, and would thrust out all the rest: when they are rich
themselves, in honour, preferred, full, and have even that they would,
they debar others of those pleasures which youth requires, and they
formerly have enjoyed. He sits at table in a soft chair at ease, but he
doth remember in the mean time that a tired waiter stands behind him,
an hungry fellow ministers to him full, he is athirst that gives him
drink (saith [1784]Epictetus) and is silent whilst he speaks his
pleasure: pensive, sad, when he laughs. Pleno se proluit auro: he
feasts, revels, and profusely spends, hath variety of robes, sweet
music, ease, and all the pleasure the world can afford, whilst many an
hunger-starved poor creature pines in the street, wants clothes to
cover him, labours hard all day long, runs, rides for a trifle, fights
peradventure from sun to sun, sick and ill, weary, full of pain and
grief, is in great distress and sorrow of heart. He loathes and scorns
his inferior, hates or emulates his equal, envies his superior, insults
over all such as are under him, as if he were of another species, a
demigod, not subject to any fall, or human infirmities. Generally they
love not, are not beloved again: they tire out others' bodies with
continual labour, they themselves living at ease, caring for none else,
sibi nati; and are so far many times from putting to their helping
hand, that they seek all means to depress, even most worthy and well
deserving, better than themselves, those whom they are by the laws of
nature bound to relieve and help, as much as in them lies, they will
let them caterwaul, starve, beg, and hang, before they will any ways
(though it be in their power) assist or ease: [1785]so unnatural are
they for the most part, so unregardful; so hard-hearted, so churlish,
proud, insolent, so dogged, of so bad a disposition. And being so
brutish, so devilishly bent one towards another, how is it possible but
that we should be discontent of all sides, full of cares, woes, and
miseries?
If this be not a sufficient proof of their discontent and misery,
examine every condition and calling apart. Kings, princes, monarchs,
and magistrates seem to be most happy, but look into their estate, you
shall [1786]find them to be most encumbered with cares, in perpetual
fear, agony, suspicion, jealousy: that, as [1787]he said of a crown, if
they knew but the discontents that accompany it, they would not stoop
to take it up. Quem mihi regent dabis (saith Chrysostom) non curis
plenum? What king canst thou show me, not full of cares? [1788]Look not
on his crown, but consider his afflictions; attend not his number of
servants, but multitude of crosses. Nihil aliud potestas culminis, quam
tempestas mentis, as Gregory seconds him; sovereignty is a tempest of
the soul: Sylla like they have brave titles, but terrible fits:
splendorem titulo, cruciatum animo: which made [1789]Demosthenes vow,
si vel ad tribunal, vel ad interitum duceretur: if to be a judge, or to
be condemned, were put to his choice, he would be condemned. Rich men
are in the same predicament; what their pains are, stulti nesciunt,
ipsi sentiunt: they feel, fools perceive not, as I shall prove
elsewhere, and their wealth is brittle, like children's rattles: they
come and go, there is no certainty in them: those whom they elevate,
they do as suddenly depress, and leave in a vale of misery. The middle
sort of men are as so many asses to bear burdens; or if they be free,
and live at ease, they spend themselves, and consume their bodies and
fortunes with luxury and riot, contention, emulation, &c. The poor I
reserve for another [1790]place and their discontents.
For particular professions, I hold as of the rest, there's no content
or security in any; on what course will you pitch, how resolve? to be a
divine, 'tis contemptible in the world's esteem; to be a lawyer, 'tis
to be a wrangler; to be a physician, [1791]pudet lotii, 'tis loathed; a
philosopher, a madman; an alchemist, a beggar; a poet, esurit, an
hungry jack; a musician, a player; a schoolmaster, a drudge; an
husbandman, an emmet; a merchant, his gains are uncertain; a
mechanician, base; a chirurgeon, fulsome; a tradesman, a [1792]liar; a
tailor, a thief; a serving-man, a slave; a soldier, a butcher; a smith,
or a metalman, the pot's never from his nose; a courtier a parasite, as
he could find no tree in the wood to hang himself; I can show no state
of life to give content. The like you may say of all ages; children
live in a perpetual slavery, still under that tyrannical government of
masters; young men, and of riper years, subject to labour, and a
thousand cares of the world, to treachery, falsehood, and cozenage,
[1793]———Incedit per ignes,
Suppositos cineri doloso,
———you incautious tread
On fires, with faithless ashes overhead.
[1794]old are full of aches in their bones, cramps and convulsions,
silicernia, dull of hearing, weak sighted, hoary, wrinkled, harsh, so
much altered as that they cannot know their own face in a glass, a
burthen to themselves and others, after 70 years, all is sorrow (as
David hath it), they do not live but linger. If they be sound, they
fear diseases; if sick, weary of their lives: Non est vivere, sed
valere vita. One complains of want, a second of servitude,
[1795]another of a secret or incurable disease; of some deformity of
body, of some loss, danger, death of friends, shipwreck, persecution,
imprisonment, disgrace, repulse, [1796] contumely, calumny, abuse,
injury, contempt, ingratitude, unkindness, scoffs, flouts, unfortunate
marriage, single life, too many children, no children, false servants,
unhappy children, barrenness, banishment, oppression, frustrate hopes
and ill-success, &c.
[1797]Talia de genere hoc adeo sunt multa, loquacem ut
Delassare valent Fabium.———
But, every various instance to repeat,
Would tire even Fabius of incessant prate.
Talking Fabius will be tired before he can tell half of them; they are
the subject of whole volumes, and shall (some of them) be more
opportunely dilated elsewhere. In the meantime thus much I may say of
them, that generally they crucify the soul of man, [1798]attenuate our
bodies, dry them, wither them, shrivel them up like old apples, make
them as so many anatomies ([1799]ossa atque pellis est totus, ita curis
macet) they cause tempus foedum et squalidum, cumbersome days,
ingrataque tempora, slow, dull, and heavy times: make us howl, roar,
and tear our hairs, as sorrow did in [1800]Cebes' table, and groan for
the very anguish of our souls. Our hearts fail us as David's did, Psal.
xl. 12, for innumerable troubles that compassed him; and we are ready
to confess with Hezekiah, Isaiah lviii. 17, behold, for felicity I had
bitter grief; to weep with Heraclitus, to curse the day of our birth
with Jeremy, xx. 14, and our stars with Job: to hold that axiom of
Silenus, [1801]better never to have been born, and the best next of
all, to die quickly: or if we must live, to abandon the world, as Timon
did; creep into caves and holes, as our anchorites; cast all into the
sea, as Crates Thebanus; or as Theombrotus Ambrociato's 400 auditors,
precipitate ourselves to be rid of these miseries.
SUBSECT. XI.—_Concupiscible Appetite, as Desires, Ambition, Causes_.
These concupiscible and irascible appetites are as the two twists of a
rope, mutually mixed one with the other, and both twining about the
heart: both good, as Austin, holds, l. 14. c. 9. de civ. Dei, [1802]if
they be moderate; both pernicious if they be exorbitant. This
concupiscible appetite, howsoever it may seem to carry with it a show
of pleasure and delight, and our concupiscences most part affect us
with content and a pleasing object, yet if they be in extremes, they
rack and wring us on the other side. A true saying it is, Desire hath
no rest; is infinite in itself, endless; and as [1803]one calls it, a
perpetual rack, [1804]or horse-mill, according to Austin, still going
round as in a ring. They are not so continual, as divers, felicius
atomos denumerare possem, saith [1805]Bernard, quam motus cordis; nunc
haec, nunc illa cogito, you may as well reckon up the motes in the sun
as them. [1806]It extends itself to everything, as Guianerius will have
it, that is superfluously sought after:' or to any [1807]fervent
desire, as Fernelius interprets it; be it in what kind soever, it
tortures if immoderate, and is (according to [1808] Plater and others)
an especial cause of melancholy. Multuosis concupiscentiis dilaniantur
cogitationes meae, [1809]Austin confessed, that he was torn a pieces
with his manifold desires: and so doth [1810] Bernard complain, that he
could not rest for them a minute of an hour: this I would have, and
that, and then I desire to be such and such. 'Tis a hard matter
therefore to confine them, being they are so various and many,
impossible to apprehend all. I will only insist upon some few of the
chief, and most noxious in their kind, as that exorbitant appetite and
desire of honour, which we commonly call ambition; love of money, which
is covetousness, and that greedy desire of gain: self-love, pride, and
inordinate desire of vainglory or applause, love of study in excess;
love of women (which will require a just volume of itself), of the
other I will briefly speak, and in their order.
Ambition, a proud covetousness, or a dry thirst of honour, a great
torture of the mind, composed of envy, pride, and covetousness, a
gallant madness, one [1811]defines it a pleasant poison, Ambrose, a
canker of the soul, an hidden plague: [1812]Bernard, a secret poison,
the father of livor, and mother of hypocrisy, the moth of holiness, and
cause of madness, crucifying and disquieting all that it takes hold of.
[1813]Seneca calls it, rem solicitam, timidam, vanam, ventosam, a windy
thing, a vain, solicitous, and fearful thing. For commonly they that,
like Sisyphus, roll this restless stone of ambition, are in a perpetual
agony, still [1814] perplexed, semper taciti, tritesque recedunt
(Lucretius), doubtful, timorous, suspicious, loath to offend in word or
deed, still cogging and colloguing, embracing, capping, cringing,
applauding, flattering, fleering, visiting, waiting at men's doors,
with all affability, counterfeit honesty and humility. [1815]If that
will not serve, if once this humour (as [1816]Cyprian describes it)
possess his thirsty soul, ambitionis salsugo ubi bibulam animam
possidet, by hook and by crook he will obtain it, and from his hole he
will climb to all honours and offices, if it be possible for him to get
up, flattering one, bribing another, he will leave no means unessay'd
to win all. [1817]It is a wonder to see how slavishly these kind of men
subject themselves, when they are about a suit, to every inferior
person; what pains they will take, run, ride, cast, plot, countermine,
protest and swear, vow, promise, what labours undergo, early up, down
late; how obsequious and affable they are, how popular and courteous,
how they grin and fleer upon every man they meet; with what feasting
and inviting, how they spend themselves and their fortunes, in seeking
that many times, which they had much better be without; as [1818]Cyneas
the orator told Pyrrhus: with what waking nights, painful hours,
anxious thoughts, and bitterness of mind, inter spemque metumque,
distracted and tired, they consume the interim of their time. There can
be no greater plague for the present. If they do obtain their suit,
which with such cost and solicitude they have sought, they are not so
freed, their anxiety is anew to begin, for they are never satisfied,
nihil aliud nisi imperium spirant, their thoughts, actions, endeavours
are all for sovereignty and honour, like [1819]Lues Sforza that huffing
Duke of Milan, a man of singular wisdom, but profound ambition, born to
his own, and to the destruction of Italy, though it be to their own
ruin, and friends' undoing, they will contend, they may not cease, but
as a dog in a wheel, a bird in a cage, or a squirrel in a chain, so
[1820]Budaeus compares them; [1821]they climb and climb still, with
much labour, but never make an end, never at the top. A knight would be
a baronet, and then a lord, and then a viscount, and then an earl, &c.;
a doctor, a dean, and then a bishop; from tribune to praetor; from
bailiff to major; first this office, and then that; as Pyrrhus in
[1822]Plutarch, they will first have Greece, then Africa, and then
Asia, and swell with Aesop's frog so long, till in the end they burst,
or come down with Sejanus, ad Gemonias scalas, and break their own
necks; or as Evangelus the piper in Lucian, that blew his pipe so long,
till he fell down dead. If he chance to miss, and have a canvass, he is
in a hell on the other side; so dejected, that he is ready to hang
himself, turn heretic, Turk, or traitor in an instant. Enraged against
his enemies, he rails, swears, fights, slanders, detracts, envies,
murders: and for his own part, si appetitum explere non potest, furore
corripitur; if he cannot satisfy his desire (as [1823]Bodine writes) he
runs mad. So that both ways, hit or miss, he is distracted so long as
his ambition lasts, he can look for no other but anxiety and care,
discontent and grief in the meantime, [1824]madness itself, or violent
death in the end. The event of this is common to be seen in populous
cities, or in princes' courts, for a courtier's life (as Budaeus
describes it) is a [1825]gallimaufry of ambition, lust, fraud,
imposture, dissimulation, detraction, envy, pride; [1826]the court, a
common conventicle of flatterers, time-servers, politicians, &c.; or as
[1827] Anthony Perez will, the suburbs of hell itself. If you will see
such discontented persons, there you shall likely find them. [1828]And
which he observed of the markets of old Rome,
Qui perjurum convenire vult hominem, mitto in Comitium;
Qui mendacem et gloriosum, apud Cluasinae sacrum;
Dites, damnosos maritos, sub basilica quaerito, &c.
Perjured knaves, knights of the post, liars, crackers, bad husbands,
&c. keep their several stations; they do still, and always did in every
commonwealth.
SUBSECT. XII.—_Φιλαργυρία, Covetousness, a Cause_.
Plutarch, in his [1829]book whether the diseases of the body be more
grievous than those of the soul, is of opinion, if you will examine all
the causes of our miseries in this life, you shall find them most part
to have had their beginning from stubborn anger, that furious desire of
contention, or some unjust or immoderate affection, as covetousness,
&c. From whence are wars and contentions amongst you? [1830]St. James
asks: I will add usury, fraud, rapine, simony, oppression, lying,
swearing, bearing false witness, &c. are they not from this fountain of
covetousness, that greediness in getting, tenacity in keeping,
sordidity in spending; that they are so wicked, [1831]unjust against
God, their neighbour, themselves; all comes hence. The desire of money
is the root of all evil, and they that lust after it, pierce themselves
through with many sorrows, 1 Tim. vi. 10. Hippocrates therefore in his
Epistle to Crateva, an herbalist, gives him this good counsel, that if
it were possible, [1832] amongst other herbs, he should cut up that
weed of covetousness by the roots, that there be no remainder left, and
then know this for a certainty, that together with their bodies, thou
mayst quickly cure all the diseases of their minds. For it is indeed
the pattern, image, epitome of all melancholy, the fountain of many
miseries, much discontented care and woe; this inordinate, or
immoderate desire of gain, to get or keep money, as [1833]Bonaventure
defines it: or, as Austin describes it, a madness of the soul, Gregory
a torture; Chrysostom, an insatiable drunkenness; Cyprian, blindness,
speciosum supplicium, a plague subverting kingdoms, families, an
[1834]incurable disease; Budaeus, an ill habit, [1835]yielding to no
remedies: neither Aesculapius nor Plutus can cure them: a continual
plague, saith Solomon, and vexation of spirit, another hell. I know
there be some of opinion, that covetous men are happy, and worldly,
wise, that there is more pleasure in getting of wealth than in
spending, and no delight in the world like unto it. 'Twas [1836]Bias'
problem of old, With what art thou not weary? with getting money. What
is most delectable? to gain. What is it, trow you, that makes a poor
man labour all his lifetime, carry such great burdens, fare so hardly,
macerate himself, and endure so much misery, undergo such base offices
with so great patience, to rise up early, and lie down late, if there
were not an extraordinary delight in getting and keeping of money? What
makes a merchant that hath no need, satis superque domi, to range all
over the world, through all those intemperate [1837]Zones of heat and
cold; voluntarily to venture his life, and be content with such
miserable famine, nasty usage, in a stinking ship; if there were not a
pleasure and hope to get money, which doth season the rest, and
mitigate his indefatigable pains? What makes them go into the bowels of
the earth, an hundred fathom deep, endangering their dearest lives,
enduring damps and filthy smells, when they have enough already, if
they could be content, and no such cause to labour, but an
extraordinary delight they take in riches. This may seem plausible at
first show, a popular and strong argument; but let him that so thinks,
consider better of it, and he shall soon perceive, that it is far
otherwise than he supposeth; it may be haply pleasing at the first, as
most part all melancholy is. For such men likely have some lucida
intervalla, pleasant symptoms intermixed; but you must note that of
[1838]Chrysostom, 'Tis one thing to be rich, another to be covetous:
generally they are all fools, dizzards, madmen, [1839]miserable
wretches, living besides themselves, sine arte fruendi, in perpetual
slavery, fear, suspicion, sorrow, and discontent, plus aloes quam
mellis habent; and are indeed, rather possessed by their money, than
possessors: as [1840]Cyprian hath it, mancipati pecuniis; bound
prentice to their goods, as [1841]Pliny; or as Chrysostom, servi
divitiarum, slaves and drudges to their substance; and we may conclude
of them all, as [1842]Valerius doth of Ptolomaeus king of Cyprus, He
was in title a king of that island, but in his mind, a miserable drudge
of money:
[1843]———potiore metallis
libertate carens———