No. 52. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1750.
_----Quoties flenti Theseius heros_
_Siste modum, dixit, neque enim fortuna querenda_
_Sola tua est, similes aliorum respice casus,_
_Mitius ista feres._
OVID, Met. xv. 492.
How oft in vain the son of Theseus said,
The stormy sorrows be with patience laid;
Nor are thy fortunes to be wept alone;
Weigh others' woes, and learn to bear thy own.
CATCOTT.
Among the various methods of consolation, to which the miseries
inseparable from our present state have given occasion, it has been, as I
have already remarked, recommended by some writers to put the sufferer in
mind of heavier pressures, and more excruciating calamities, than those
of which he has himself reason to complain.
This has, in all ages, been directed and practised; and, in conformity to
this custom, Lipsius, the great modern master of the Stoick philosophy,
has, in his celebrated treatise on _Steadiness of Mind_, endeavoured
to fortify the breast against too much sensibility of misfortune, by
enumerating the evils which have in former ages fallen upon the world,
the devastation of wide-extended regions, the sack of cities, and
massacre of nations. And the common voice of the multitude, uninstructed
by precept, and unprejudiced by authority, which, in questions that
relate to the heart of man, is, in my opinion, more decisive than the
learning of Lipsius, seems to justify the efficacy of this procedure; for
one of the first comforts which one neighbour administers to another, is
a relation of the like infelicity, combined with circumstances of greater
bitterness.
But this medicine of the mind is like many remedies applied to the body,
of which, though we see the effects, we are unacquainted with the manner
of operation, and of which, therefore, some, who are unwilling to suppose
any thing out of the reach of their own sagacity, have been inclined
to doubt whether they have really those virtues for which they are
celebrated, and whether their reputation is not the mere gift of fancy,
prejudice, and credulity.
Consolation, or comfort, are words which, in their proper acceptation,
signify some alleviation of that pain to which it is not in our power to
afford the proper and adequate remedy; they imply rather an augmentation
of the power of bearing, than a diminution of the burthen. A prisoner
is relieved by him that sets him at liberty, but receives comfort from
such as suggest considerations by which he is made patient under the
inconvenience of confinement. To that grief which arises from a great
loss, he only brings the true remedy, who makes his friend's condition
the same as before; but he may be properly termed a comforter, who by
persuasion extenuates the pain of poverty, and shews, in the style of
Hesiod, that _half is more than the whole_.
It is, perhaps, not immediately obvious, how it can lull the memory of
misfortune, or appease the throbbings of anguish, to hear that others
are more miserable; others, perhaps, unknown or wholly indifferent, whose
prosperity raises no envy, and whose fall can gratify no resentment.
Some topicks of comfort arising, like that which gave hope and spirit
to the captive of Sesostris, from the perpetual vicissitudes of life,
and mutability of human affairs, may as properly raise the dejected
as depress the proud, and have an immediate tendency to exhilarate and
revive. But how can it avail the man who languishes in the gloom of
sorrow, without prospect of emerging into the sunshine of cheerfulness,
to hear that others are sunk yet deeper in the dungeon of misery,
shackled with heavier chains, and surrounded with darker desperation?
The solace arising from this consideration seems indeed the weakest of
all others, and is perhaps never properly applied, but in cases where
there is no place for reflections of more speedy and pleasing efficacy.
But even from such calamities life is by no means free; a thousand
ills incurable, a thousand losses irreparable, a thousand difficulties
insurmountable are known, or will be known, by all the sons of men. Native
deformity cannot be rectified, a dead friend cannot return, and the hours
of youth trifled away in folly, or lost in sickness, cannot be restored.
Under the oppression of such melancholy, it has been found useful to take
a survey of the world, to contemplate the various scenes of distress
in which mankind are struggling round us, and acquaint ourselves with
the _terribiles visit formæ_, the various shapes of misery, which
make havock of terrestrial happiness, range all corners almost without
restraint, trample down our hopes at the hour of harvest, and, when we
have built our schemes to the top, ruin their foundations.
The first effect of this meditation is, that it furnishes a new employment
for the mind, and engages the passions on remoter objects; as kings have
sometimes freed themselves from a subject too haughty to be governed and
too powerful to be crushed, by posting him in a distant province, till
his popularity has subsided, or his pride been repressed. The attention
is dissipated by variety, and acts more weakly upon any single part, as
that torrent may be drawn off to different channels, which, pouring down
in one collected body, cannot be resisted. This species of comfort is,
therefore, unavailing in severe paroxysms of corporal pain, when the mind
is every instant called back to misery, and in the first shock of any
sudden evil; but will certainly be of use against encroaching melancholy,
and a settled habit of gloomy thoughts.
It is further advantageous, as it supplies us with opportunities of making
comparisons in our own favour. We know that very little of the pain,
or pleasure, which does not begin and end in our senses, is otherwise
than relative; we are rich or poor, great or little, in proportion to
the number that excel us, or fall beneath us, in any of these respects;
and therefore, a man, whose uneasiness arises from reflection on any
misfortune that throws him below those with whom he was once equal, is
comforted by finding that he is not yet the lowest.
There is another kind of comparison, less tending towards the vice of
envy, very well illustrated by an old poet[45], whose system will not
afford many reasonable motives to content. "It is," says he, "pleasing to
look from shore upon the tumults of a storm, and to see a ship struggling
with the billows; it is pleasing, not because the pain of another can give
us delight, but because we have a stronger impression of the happiness
of safety." Thus, when we look abroad, and behold the multitudes that
are groaning under evils heavier than those which we have experienced,
we shrink back to our own state, and instead of repining that so much
must be felt, learn to rejoice that we have not more to feel.
By this observation of the miseries of others, fortitude is strengthened,
and the mind brought to a more extensive knowledge of her own powers. As
the heroes of action catch the flame from one another, so they to whom
Providence has allotted the harder task of suffering with calmness and
dignity, may animate themselves by the remembrance of those evils which
have been laid on others, perhaps naturally as weak as themselves, and
bear up with vigour and resolution against their own oppressions, when
they see it possible that more severe afflictions may be borne.
There is still another reason why, to many minds, the relation of other
men's infelicity may give a lasting and continual relief. Some, not well
instructed in the measures by which Providence distributes happiness, are
perhaps misled by divines, who, as Bellarmine makes temporal prosperity
one of the characters of the true church, have represented wealth and
ease as the certain concomitants of virtue, and the unfailing result of
the divine approbation. Such sufferers are dejected in their misfortunes,
not so much for what they feel, as for what they dread; not because
they cannot support the sorrows, or endure the wants, of their present
condition, but because they consider them as only the beginnings of
more sharp and more lasting pains. To these mourners it is an act of the
highest charity to represent the calamities which not only virtue has
suffered, but virtue has incurred; to inform them that one evidence of
a future state, is the uncertainty of any present reward for goodness;
and to remind them, from the highest authority, of the distresses and
penury of men of whom the world was not worthy.
[Footnote 45: Lucretius.]
No. 53. TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 1750.
Φειδεο των κτεανων.
_Epigram. Vet._
Husband thy possessions.
There is scarcely among the evils of human life any so generally dreaded
as poverty. Every other species of misery, those, who are not much
accustomed to disturb the present moment with reflection, can easily
forget, because it is not always forced upon their regard; but it is
impossible to pass a day or an hour in the confluxes of men, without
seeing how much indigence is exposed to contumely, neglect, and insult;
and, in its lowest state, to hunger and nakedness; to injuries against
which every passion is in arms, and to wants which nature cannot sustain.
Against other evils the heart is often hardened by true or by false notions
of dignity and reputation: thus we see dangers of every kind faced with
willingness, because bravery in a good or bad cause is never without its
encomiasts and admirers. But in the prospect of poverty, there is nothing
but gloom and melancholy; the mind and body suffer together; its miseries
bring no alleviations; it is a state in which every virtue is obscured,
and in which no conduct can avoid reproach: a state in which cheerfulness
is insensibility, and dejection sullenness, of which the hardships are
without honour, and the labours without reward.
Of these calamities there seems not to be wanting a general conviction; we
hear on every side the noise of trade, and see the streets thronged with
numberless multitudes, whose faces are clouded with anxiety, and whose
steps are hurried by precipitation, from no other motive than the hope
of gain; and the whole world is put in motion, by the desire of that
wealth which is chiefly to be valued as it secures us from poverty;
for it is more useful for defence than acquisition, and is not so much
able to procure good as to exclude evil.
Yet there are always some whose passions or follies lead them to a conduct
opposite to the general maxims and practice of mankind; some who seem
to rush upon poverty with the same eagerness with which others avoid
it, who see their revenues hourly lessened, and the estates which they
inherit from their ancestors mouldering away, without resolution to
change their course of life; who persevere against all remonstrances, and
go forward with full career, though they see before them the precipice
of destruction.
It is not my purpose in this paper, to expostulate with such as ruin
their fortunes by expensive schemes of buildings and gardens, which they
carry on with the same vanity that prompted them to begin, choosing,
as it happens in a thousand other cases, the remote evil before the
lighter, and deferring the shame of repentance till they incur the
miseries of distress. Those for whom I intend my present admonitions,
are the thoughtless, the negligent, and the dissolute, who having, by
the vitiousness of their own inclinations, or the seducements of alluring
companions, been engaged in habits of expense, and accustomed to move
in a certain round of pleasures disproportioned to their condition, are
without power to extricate themselves from the enchantments of custom,
avoid thought because they know it will be painful, and continue from day
to day, and from month to month, to anticipate their revenues, and sink
every hour deeper into the gulfs of usury and extortion.
This folly has less claim to pity, because it cannot be imputed to the
vehemence of sudden passion; nor can the mischief which it produces be
extenuated as the effect of any single act, which rage, or desire, might
execute before there could be time for an appeal to reason. These men are
advancing towards misery by soft approaches, and destroying themselves,
not by the violence of a blow, which, when once given, can never be
recalled, but by a slow poison, hourly repeated, and obstinately continued.
This conduct is so absurd when it is examined by the unprejudiced eye
of rational judgment, that nothing but experience could evince its
possibility; yet, absurd as it is, the sudden fall of some families, and
the sudden rise of others, prove it to be common, and every year sees
many wretches reduced to contempt and want, by their costly sacrifices to
pleasure and vanity.
It is the fate of almost every passion, when it has passed the bounds
which nature prescribes, to counteract its own purpose. Too much rage
hinders the warriour from circumspection, too much eagerness of profit
hurts the credit of the trader, too much ardour takes away from the lover
that easiness of address with which ladies are delighted.
Thus extravagance, though dictated by vanity, and incited by
voluptuousness, seldom procures ultimately either applause or pleasure.
If praise be justly estimated by the character of those from whom it
is received, little satisfaction will be given to the spendthrift by
the encomiums which he purchases. For who are they that animate him in
his pursuits, but young men, thoughtless and abandoned like himself,
unacquainted with all on which the wisdom of nations has impressed the
stamp of excellence, and devoid alike of knowledge and of virtue? By whom
is his profusion praised, but by wretches who consider him as subservient
to their purposes, Sirens that entice him to shipwreck, and Cyclops that
are gaping to devour him.
Every man, whose knowledge or whose virtue can give value to his opinion,
looks with scorn, or pity, neither of which can afford much gratification
to pride, on him whom the panders of luxury have drawn into the circle
of their influence, and whom he sees parcelled out among the different
ministers of folly, and about to be torn to pieces by tailors and
jockeys, vintners and attorneys, who at once rob and ridicule him, and
who are secretly triumphing over his weakness, when they present new
incitements to his appetite, and heighten his desires by counterfeited
applause.
Such is the praise that is purchased by prodigality. Even when it is
yet not discovered to be false, it is the praise only of those whom
it is reproachful to please, and whose sincerity is corrupted by their
interest; men who live by the riots which they encourage, and who know
that whenever their pupil grows wise, they shall loose their power. Yet
with such flatteries, if they could last, might the cravings of vanity,
which is seldom very delicate, be satisfied; but the time is always
hastening forward when this triumph, poor as it is, shall vanish, and
when those who now surround him with obsequiousness and compliments,
fawn among his equipage, and animate his riots, shall turn upon him with
insolence, and reproach him with the vices promoted by themselves.
And as little pretensions has the man who squanders his estate, by vain
or vicious expenses, to greater degrees of pleasure than are obtained by
others. To make any happiness sincere, it is necessary that we believe it
to be lasting; since whatever we suppose ourselves in danger of losing,
must be enjoyed with solicitude and uneasiness, and the more value we set
upon it, the more must the present possession be imbittered. How can he
then be envied for his felicity, who knows that its continuance cannot be
expected, and who is conscious that a very short time will give him up to
the gripe of poverty, which will be harder to be borne, as he has given
way to more excesses, wantoned in greater abundance, and indulged his
appetites with more profuseness?
It appears evident that frugality is necessary even to complete the
pleasure of expense; for it may be generally remarked of those who
squander what they know their fortune not sufficient to allow, that
in their most jovial expense, there always breaks out some proof of
discontent and impatience; they either scatter with a kind of wild
desperation, and affected lavishness, as criminals brave the gallows
when they cannot escape it, or pay their money with a peevish anxiety,
and endeavour at once to spend idly, and to save meanly: having neither
firmness to deny their passions, nor courage to gratify them, they murmur
at their own enjoyments, and poison the bowl of pleasure by reflection
on the cost.
Among these men there is often the vociferation of merriment, but very
seldom the tranquillity of cheerfulness; they inflame their imaginations
to a kind of momentary jollity, by the help of wine and riot, and
consider it as the first business of the night to stupify recollection,
and lay that reason asleep which disturbs their gaiety, and calls upon
them to retreat from ruin.
But this poor broken satisfaction is of short continuance, and must
be expiated by a long series of misery and regret. In a short time
the creditor grows impatient, the last acre is sold, the passions and
appetites still continue their tyranny, with incessant calls for their
usual gratifications, and the remainder of life passes away in vain
repentance, or impotent desire.
No. 54. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 1750.
_Truditur dies die,_
_Novteque pergunt interire Lunæ._
_Tu secanda marmora_
_Locas sub ipsum funus, et sepulchri_
_Immemor struis domos._
HOR. Lib. ii. Ode xviii. 15.
Day presses on the heels of day,
And moons increase to their decay;
But you, with thoughtless pride elate,
Unconscious of impending fate,
Command the pillar'd dome to rise,
When lo! thy tomb forgotten lies.
FRANCIS.