obliged to extend our hopes; and almost every man indulges his
imagination with something, which is not to happen till he has changed
his manner of being: some amuse themselves with entails and settlements,
provide for the perpetuation of families and honours, or contrive to
obviate the dissipation of the fortunes, which it has been their
business to accumulate; others, more refined or exalted, congratulate
their own hearts upon the future extent of their reputation, the
reverence of distant nations, and the gratitude of unprejudiced
posterity.
They whose souls are so chained down to coffers and tenements, that they
cannot conceive a state in which they shall look upon them with less
solicitude, are seldom attentive or flexible to arguments; but the
votaries of fame are capable of reflection, and therefore may be called
to reconsider the probability of their expectations.
Whether to be remembered in remote times be worthy of a wise man's wish,
has not yet been satisfactorily decided; and, indeed, to be long
remembered, can happen to so small a number, that the bulk of mankind
has very little interest in the question. There is never room in the
world for more than a certain quantity or measure of renown. The
necessary business of life, the immediate pleasures or pains of every
condition, leave us not leisure beyond a fixed proportion for
contemplations which do not forcibly influence our present welfare. When
this vacuity is filled, no characters can be admitted into the
circulation of fame, but by occupying the place of some that must be
thrust into oblivion. The eye of the mind, like that of the body, can
only extend its view to new objects, by losing sight of those which are
now before it.
Reputation is therefore a meteor, which blazes a while and disappears
for ever; and, if we except a few transcendent and invincible names,
which no revolutions of opinion or length of time is able to suppress;
all those that engage our thoughts, or diversify our conversation, are
every moment hasting to obscurity, as new favourites are adopted by
fashion.
It is not therefore from this world, that any ray of comfort can
proceed, to cheer the gloom of the last hour. But futurity has still its
prospects; there is yet happiness in reserve, which, if we transfer our
attention to it, will support us in the pains of disease, and the
languor of decay. This happiness we may expect with confidence, because
it is out of the power of chance, and may be attained by all that
sincerely desire and earnestly pursue it. On this therefore every mind
ought finally to rest. Hope is the chief blessing of man, and that hope
only is rational, of which we are certain that it cannot deceive us.
No. 204. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 29, 1752
_Nemo tam divos habuit faventes,
Crastinum ut possit sibi polliceit_. SENECA.
Of heaven's protection who can be
So confident to utter this?--
To-morrow I will spend in bliss. F. LEWIS.
Seged, lord of Ethiopia, to the inhabitants of the world: To the sons of
_Presumption_, humility and fear; and to the daughters of _Sorrow_,
content and acquiescence.
Thus, in the twenty-seventh year of his reign, spoke Seged, the monarch
of forty nations, the distributor of the waters of the Nile: "At length,
Seged, thy toils are at an end; thou hast reconciled disaffection, thou
hast suppressed rebellion, thou hast pacified the jealousies of thy
courtiers, thou hast chased war from thy confines, and erected
fortresses in the lands of thine enemies. All who have offended thee
tremble in thy presence, and wherever thy voice is heard, it is obeyed.
Thy throne is surrounded by armies, numerous as the locusts of the
summer, and resistless as the blasts of pestilence. Thy magazines are
stored with ammunition, thy treasures overflow with the tribute of
conquered kingdoms. Plenty waves upon thy fields, and opulence glitters
in thy cities. Thy nod is as the earthquake that shakes the mountains,
and thy smile as the dawn of the vernal day. In thy hand is the strength
of thousands, and thy health is the health of millions. Thy palace is
gladdened by the song of praise, and thy path perfumed by the breath of
benediction. Thy subjects gaze upon thy greatness, and think of danger
or misery no more. Why, Seged, wilt not thou partake the blessings thou
bestowest? Why shouldst thou only forbear to rejoice in this general
felicity? Why should thy face be clouded with anxiety, when the meanest
of those who call thee sovereign, gives the day to festivity, and the
night to peace? At length, Seged, reflect and be wise. What is the gift
of conquest but safety? Why are riches collected but to purchase
happiness?"
Seged then ordered the house of pleasure, built in an island of the lake
of Dambea, to be prepared for his reception. "I will retire," says he,
"for ten days from tumult and care, from counsels and decrees. Long
quiet is not the lot of the governours of nations, but a cessation of
ten days cannot be denied me. This short interval of happiness may
surely be secured from the interruption of fear or perplexity, sorrow or
disappointment. I will exclude all trouble from my abode, and remove
from my thoughts whatever may confuse the harmony of the concert, or
abate the sweetness of the banquet. I will fill the whole capacity of my
soul with enjoyment, and try what it is to live without a wish
unsatisfied."
In a few days the orders were performed, and Seged hasted to the palace
of Dambea, which stood in an island cultivated only for pleasure,
planted with every flower that spreads its colours to the sun, and every
shrub that sheds fragrance in the air. In one part of this extensive
garden, were open walks for excursions in the morning; in another, thick
groves, and silent arbours, and bubbling fountains for repose at noon.
All that could solace the sense, or flatter the fancy, all that industry
could extort from nature, or wealth furnish to art, all that conquest
could seize, or beneficence attract, was collected together, and every
perception of delight was excited and gratified.
Into this delicious region Seged summoned all the persons of his court,
who seemed eminently qualified to receive or communicate pleasure. His
call was readily obeyed; the young, the fair, the vivacious, and the
witty, were all in haste to be sated with felicity. They sailed jocund
over the lake, which seemed to smooth its surface before them: their
passage was cheered with musick, and their hearts dilated with
expectation.
Seged, landing here with his band of pleasure, determined from that hour
to break off all acquaintance with discontent, to give his heart for ten
days to ease and jollity, and then fall back to the common state of man,
and suffer his life to be diversified, as before, with joy and sorrow.
He immediately entered his chamber, to consider where he should begin
his circle of happiness. He had all the artists of delight before him,
but knew not whom to call, since he could not enjoy one, but by delaying
the performance of another. He chose and rejected, he resolved and
changed his resolution, till his faculties were harassed, and his
thoughts confused; then returned to the apartment where his presence was
expected, with languid eyes and clouded countenance, and spread the
infection of uneasiness over the whole assembly. He observed their
depression, and was offended, for he found his vexation increased by
those whom he expected to dissipate and relieve it. He retired again to
his private chamber, and sought for consolation in his own mind; one
thought flowed in upon another; a long succession of images seized his
attention; the moments crept imperceptibly away through the gloom of
pensiveness, till, having recovered his tranquillity, he lifted his
head, and saw the lake brightened by the setting sun. "Such," said
Seged, sighing, "is the longest day of human existence: before we have
learned to use it, we find it at, an end."
The regret which he felt for the loss of so great a part of his first
day, took from him all disposition to enjoy the evening; and, after
having endeavoured, for the sake of his attendants, to force an air of
gaiety, and excite that mirth which he could not share, he resolved to
refer his hopes to the next morning, and lay down to partake with the
slaves of labour and poverty the blessing of sleep.
He rose early the second morning, and resolved now to be happy. He
therefore fixed upon the gate of the palace an edict, importing, that
whoever, during nine days, should appear in the presence of the king
with a dejected countenance, or utter any expression of discontent or
sorrow, should be driven for ever from the palace of Dambea.
This edict was immediately made known in every chamber of the court, and
bower of the gardens. Mirth was frighted away, and they who were before
dancing in the lawns, or singing in the shades, were at once engaged in
the care of regulating their looks, that Seged might find his will
punctually obeyed, and see none among them liable to banishment.
Seged now met every face settled in a smile; but a smile that betrayed
solicitude, timidity, and constraint. He accosted his favourites with
familiarity and softness; but they durst not speak without
premeditation, lest they should be convicted of discontent or sorrow. He
proposed diversions, to which no objection was made, because objection
would have implied uneasiness; but they were regarded with indifference
by the courtiers, who had no other desire than to signalize themselves
by clamorous exultation. He offered various topicks of conversation, but
obtained only forced jests, and laborious laughter; and after many
attempts to animate his train to confidence and alacrity, was obliged to
confess to himself the impotence of command, and resign another day to
grief and disappointment.
He at last relieved his companions from their terrours, and shut himself
up in his chamber to ascertain, by different measures, the felicity of
the succeeding days. At length he threw himself on the bed, and closed
his eyes, but imagined, in his sleep, that his palace and gardens were
overwhelmed by an inundation, and waked with all the terrours of a man
struggling in the water. He composed himself again to rest, but was
affrighted by an imaginary irruption into his kingdom; and striving, as
is usual in dreams, without ability to move, fancied himself betrayed to
his enemies, and again started up with horrour and indignation.
It was now day, and fear was so strongly impressed on his mind, that he
could sleep no more. He rose, but his thoughts were filled with the
deluge and invasion, nor was he able to disengage his attention, or
mingle with vacancy and ease in any amusement. At length his
perturbation gave way to reason, and he resolved no longer to be
harassed by visionary miseries; but, before this resolution could be
completed, half the day had elapsed: he felt a new conviction of the
uncertainty of human schemes, and could not forbear to bewail the
weakness of that being whose quiet was to be interrupted by vapours of
the fancy. Having been first disturbed by a dream, he afterwards grieved
that a dream could disturb him. He at last discovered, that his terrours
and grief were equally vain, and that to lose the present in lamenting
the past, was voluntarily to protract a melancholy vision. The third day
was now declining, and Seged again resolved to be happy on the morrow.
No. 205. TUESDAY, MARCH 3, 1752.
_Volat ambiguis
Mobilis alis hora, nec ulli
Præstat velox Fortuna fidem_. SENECA. Hippol. 1141.
On fickle wings the minutes haste,
And fortune's favours never last. F. LEWIS.
On the fourth morning Seged rose early, refreshed with sleep, vigorous
with health, and eager with expectation. He entered the garden, attended
by the princes and ladies of his court, and seeing nothing about him but
airy cheerfulness, began to say to his heart, "This day shall be a day
of pleasure." The sun played upon the water, the birds warbled in the
groves, and the gales quivered among the branches. He roved from walk to
walk as chance directed him, and sometimes listened to the songs,
sometimes mingled with the dancers, sometimes let loose his imagination
in flights of merriment; and sometimes uttered grave reflections, and
sententious maxims, and feasted on the admiration with which they were
received.
Thus the day rolled on, without any accident of vexation, or intrusion
of melancholy thoughts. All that beheld him caught gladness from his
looks, and the sight of happiness conferred by himself filled his heart
with satisfaction: but having passed three hours in this harmless
luxury, he was alarmed on a sudden by an universal scream among the
women, and turning back saw the whole assembly flying in confusion. A
young crocodile had risen out of the lake, and was ranging the garden in
wantonness or hunger. Seged beheld him with indignation, as a disturber
of his felicity, and chased him back into the lake, but could not
persuade his retinue to stay, or free their hearts from the terrour
which had seized upon them. The princesses inclosed themselves in the
palace, and could yet scarcely believe themselves in safety. Every
attention was fixed upon the late danger and escape, and no mind was any
longer at leisure for gay sallies or careless prattle.
Seged had now no other employment than to contemplate the innumerable
casualties which lie in ambush on every side to intercept the happiness
of man, and break in upon the hour of delight and tranquillity. He had,
however, the consolation of thinking, that he had not been now
disappointed by his own fault, and that the accident which had blasted
the hopes of the day, might easily be prevented by future caution.
That he might provide for the pleasure of the next morning, he resolved
to repeal his penal edict, since he had already found that discontent
and melancholy were not to be frighted away by the threats of authority,
and that pleasure would only reside where she was exempted from control.
He therefore invited all the companions of his retreat to unbounded
pleasantry, by proposing prizes for those who should, on the following
day, distinguish themselves by any festive performances; the tables of
the antechamber were covered with gold and pearls, and robes and
garlands decreed the rewards of those who could refine elegance or
heighten pleasure.
At this display of riches every eye immediately sparkled, and every
tongue was busied in celebrating the bounty and magnificence of the
emperour. But when Seged entered, in hopes of uncommon entertainment
from universal emulation, he found that any passion too strongly
agitated, puts an end to that tranquillity which is necessary to mirth,
and that the mind, that is to be moved by the gentle ventilations of
gaiety, must be first smoothed by a total calm. Whatever we ardently
wish to gain, we must in the same degree be afraid to lose, and fear and
pleasure cannot dwell together.
All was now care and solicitude. Nothing was done or spoken, but with so
visible an endeavour at perfection, as always failed to delight, though
it sometimes forced admiration: and Seged could not but observe with
sorrow, that his prizes had more influence than himself. As the evening
approached, the contest grew more earnest, and those who were forced to
allow themselves excelled, began to discover the malignity of defeat,
first by angry glances, and at last by contemptuous murmurs. Seged
likewise shared the anxiety of the day, for considering himself as
obliged to distribute with exact justice the prizes which had been so
zealously sought, he durst never remit his attention, but passed his
time upon the rack of doubt, in balancing different kinds of merit, and
adjusting the claims of all the competitors.
At last, knowing that no exactness could satisfy those whose hopes he
should disappoint, and thinking that on a day set apart for happiness,
it would be cruel to oppress any heart with sorrow, he declared that all
had pleased him alike, and dismissed all with presents of equal value.
Seged soon saw that his caution had not been able to avoid offence. They
who had believed themselves secure of the highest prizes, were not
pleased to be levelled with the crowd: and though, by the liberality of
the king, they received more than his promise had entitled them to
expect, they departed unsatisfied, because they were honoured with no
distinction, and wanted an opportunity to triumph in the mortification
of their opponents. "Behold here," said Seged, "the condition of him who
places his happiness in the happiness of others." He then retired to
meditate, and, while the courtiers were repining at his distributions,
saw the fifth sun go down in discontent.
The next dawn renewed his resolution to be happy. But having learned how
little he could effect by settled schemes or preparatory measures, he
thought it best to give up one day entirely to chance, and left every
one to please and be pleased his own way.
This relaxation of regularity diffused a general complacence through the
whole court, and the emperour imagined that he had at last found the
secret of obtaining an interval of felicity. But as he was roving in
this careless assembly with equal carelessness, he overheard one of his
courtiers in a close arbour murmuring alone: "What merit has Seged above
us, that we should thus fear and obey him, a man, whom, whatever he may
have formerly performed, his luxury now shows to have the same weakness
with ourselves." This charge affected him the more, as it was uttered by
one whom he had always observed among the most abject of his flatterers.
At first his indignation prompted him to severity; but reflecting, that
what was spoken without intention to be heard, was to be considered as
only thought, and was perhaps but the sudden burst of casual and
temporary vexation, he invented some decent pretence to send him away,
that his retreat might not be tainted with the breath of envy, and,
after the struggle of deliberation was past, and all desire of revenge
utterly suppressed, passed the evening not only with tranquillity, but
triumph, though none but himself was conscious of the victory.
The remembrance of his clemency cheered the beginning of the seventh
day, and nothing happened to disturb the pleasure of Seged, till,
looking on the tree that shaded him, he recollected, that, under a tree
of the same kind he had passed the night after his defeat in the kingdom
of Goiama. The reflection on his loss, his dishonour, and the miseries
which his subjects suffered from the invader, filled him with sadness.
At last he shook off the weight of sorrow, and began to solace himself
with his usual pleasures, when his tranquillity was again disturbed by
jealousies which the late contest for the prizes had produced, and
which, having in vain tried to pacify them by persuasion, he was forced
to silence by command.
On the eighth morning Seged was awakened early by an unusual hurry in
the apartments, and inquiring the cause, was told that the princess
Balkis was seized with sickness. He rose, and calling the physicians,
found that they had little hope of her recovery. Here was an end of
jollity: all his thoughts were now upon his daughter, whose eyes he
closed on the tenth day.
Such were the days which Seged of Ethiopia had appropriated to a short
respiration from the fatigues of war and the cares of government. This
narrative he has bequeathed to future generations, that no man hereafter
may presume to say, "This day shall be a day of happiness."
No. 206. SATURDAY, MARCH 7, 1752.
_--Propositi nondum pudet, atque eadem est mens,
Ut bona summa putes, alienâ vivere quadrâ_. JUV. Sat. v. 1.
But harden'd by affronts, and still the same,
Lost to all sense of honour and of fame,
Thou yet canst love to haunt the great man's board,
And think no supper good but with a lord. BOWLES.
When Diogenes was once asked, what kind of wine he liked best? he
answered, "That which is drunk at the cost of others."
Though the character of Diogenes has never excited any general zeal of
imitation, there are many who resemble him in his taste of wine; many
who are frugal, though not abstemious; whose appetites, though too
powerful for reason, are kept under restraint by avarice; and to whom
all delicacies lose their flavour, when they cannot be obtained but at
their own expense.
Nothing produces more singularity of manners and inconstancy of life,
than the conflict of opposite vices in the same mind. He that uniformly
pursues any purpose, whether good or bad, has a settled principle of
action; and as he may always find associates who are travelling the same
way, is countenanced by example, and sheltered in the multitude; but a
man, actuated at once by different desires, must move in a direction
peculiar to himself, and suffer that reproach which we are naturally
inclined to bestow on those who deviate from the rest of the world, even
without inquiring whether they are worse or better.
Yet this conflict of desires sometimes produces wonderful efforts. To
riot in far-fetched dishes, or surfeit with unexhausted variety, and yet
practise the most rigid economy, is surely an art which may justly draw
the eyes of mankind upon them whose industry or judgment has enabled
them to attain it. To him, indeed, who is content to break open the
chests, or mortgage the manours, of his ancestors, that he may hire the
ministers of excess at the highest price, gluttony is an easy science;
yet we often hear the votaries of luxury boasting of the elegance which
they owe to the taste of others, relating with rapture the succession of
dishes with which their cooks and caterers supply them; and expecting
their share of praise with the discoverers of arts and the civilizers of
nations. But to shorten the way to convivial happiness, by eating
without cost, is a secret hitherto in few hands, but which certainly
deserves the curiosity of those whose principal enjoyment is their
dinner, and who see the sun rise with no other hope than that they shall
fill their bellies before it sets.
Of them that have within my knowledge attempted this scheme of
happiness, the greater part have been immediately obliged to desist; and
some, whom their first attempts flattered with success, were reduced by
degrees to a few tables, from which they were at last chased to make way
for others; and having long habituated themselves to superfluous plenty,
growled away their latter years in discontented competence.
None enter the regions of luxury with higher expectations than men of
wit, who imagine, that they shall never want a welcome to that company
whose ideas they can enlarge, or whose imaginations they can elevate,
and believe themselves able to pay for their wine with the mirth which
it qualifies them to produce. Full of this opinion, they crowd with
little invitation, wherever the smell of a feast allures them, but are
seldom encouraged to repeat their visits, being dreaded by the pert as
rivals, and hated by the dull as disturbers of the company.
No man has been so happy in gaining and keeping the privilege of living
at luxurious houses as Gulosulus, who, after thirty years of continual
revelry, has now established, by uncontroverted prescription, his claim
to partake of every entertainment, and whose presence they who aspire to
the praise of a sumptuous table are careful to procure on a day of
importance, by sending the invitation a fortnight before.
Gulosulus entered the world without any eminent degree of merit; but was
careful to frequent houses where persons of rank resorted. By being
often seen, he became in time known; and, from sitting in the same room,
was suffered to mix in idle conversation, or assisted to fill up a
vacant hour, when better amusement was not readily to be had. From the
coffee-house he was sometimes taken away to dinner; and as no man
refuses the acquaintance of him whom he sees admitted to familiarity by
others of equal dignity, when he had been met at a few tables, he with
less difficulty found the way to more, till at last he was regularly
expected to appear wherever preparations are made for a feast, within
the circuit of his acquaintance.