Part 21 (2/2)

[1797] ”Talia de genere hoc adeo sunt multa, loquacem ut Dela.s.sare 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_, c.u.mbersome 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 compa.s.sed him;” and we are ready to confess with Hezekiah, Isaiah lviii.

17, ”behold, for felicity I had bitter grief;” to weep with Herac.l.i.tus, 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 Theba.n.u.s; or as Theombrotus Ambrociato's 400 auditors, precipitate ourselves to be rid of these miseries.

SUBSECT. XI.--_Concupiscible Appet.i.te, as Desires, Ambition, Causes_.

These concupiscible and irascible appet.i.tes 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 appet.i.te, 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 appet.i.te 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 Seja.n.u.s, _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 canva.s.s, he is in a h.e.l.l 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 appet.i.tum 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, l.u.s.t, 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 h.e.l.l 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, d.a.m.nosos 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.--[Greek: philarguria], _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 G.o.d, their neighbour, themselves;” all comes hence. ”The desire of money is the root of all evil, and they that l.u.s.t 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 h.e.l.l. 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 s.h.i.+p; 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, _manc.i.p.ati 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 t.i.tle a king of that island, but in his mind, a miserable drudge of money:”

[1843] ------”potiore metallis libertate carens”------

wanting his liberty, which is better than gold. Damasippus the Stoic, in Horace, proves that all mortal men dote by fits, some one way, some another, but that covetous men [1844]are madder than the rest; and he that shall truly look into their estates, and examine their symptoms, shall find no better of them, but that they are all [1845]fools, as Nabal was, _Re et nomine_ (1. Reg. 15.) For what greater folly can there be, or [1846]

madness, than to macerate himself when he need not? and when, as Cyprian notes, [1847]”he may be freed from his burden, and eased of his pains, will go on still, his wealth increasing, when he hath enough, to get more, to live besides himself,” to starve his genius, keep back from his wife [1848]and children, neither letting them nor other friends use or enjoy that which is theirs by right, and which they much need perhaps; like a hog, or dog in the manger, he doth only keep it, because it shall do n.o.body else good, hurting himself and others: and for a little momentary pelf, d.a.m.n his own soul? They are commonly sad and tetric by nature, as Achab's spirit was because he could not get Naboth's vineyard, (1. Reg. 22.) and if he lay out his money at any time, though it be to necessary uses, to his own children's good, he brawls and scolds, his heart is heavy, much disquieted he is, and loath to part from it: _Miser abstinet et timet uti_, Hor. He is of a wearish, dry, pale const.i.tution, and cannot sleep for cares and worldly business; his riches, saith Solomon, will not let him sleep, and unnecessary business which he heapeth on himself; or if he do sleep, 'tis a very unquiet, interrupt, unpleasing sleep: with his bags in his arms,

------”congestis undique sacc indormit inhians,”------

And though he be at a banquet, or at some merry feast, ”he sighs for grief of heart” (as [1849]Cyprian hath it) ”and cannot sleep though it be upon a down bed; his wearish body takes no rest,” [1850]”troubled in his abundance, and sorrowful in plenty, unhappy for the present, and more unhappy in the life to come.” Basil. He is a perpetual drudge, [1851]restless in his thoughts, and never satisfied, a slave, a wretch, a dust-worm, _semper quod idolo suo immolet, sedulus observat_ Cypr. _prolog.

ad sermon_ still seeking what sacrifice he may offer to his golden G.o.d, _per fas et nefas_, he cares not how, his trouble is endless, [1852]_cresc.u.n.t divitiae, tamen curtae nescio quid semper abest rei_: his wealth increaseth, and the more he hath, the more [1853]he wants: like Pharaoh's lean kine, which devoured the fat, and were not satisfied.

[1854]Austin therefore defines covetousness, _quarumlibet rerum inhonestam et insatiabilem cupiditatem_ a dishonest and insatiable desire of gain; and in one of his epistles compares it to h.e.l.l; [1855]”which devours all, and yet never hath enough, a bottomless pit,” an endless misery; _in quem scopulum avaritiae cadaverosi senes utplurimum impingunt_, and that which is their greatest corrosive, they are in continual suspicion, fear, and distrust, He thinks his own wife and children are so many thieves, and go about to cozen him, his servants are all false:

”Rem suam periisse, seque eradicarier, Et divum atque hominum clamat continuo fidem, De suo tigillo si qua exit foras.”

”If his doors creek, then out he cries anon, His goods are gone, and he is quite undone.”

_Timidus Plutus_, an old proverb, As fearful as Plutus: so doth Aristophanes and Lucian bring him in fearful still, pale, anxious, suspicious, and trusting no man, [1856]”They are afraid of tempests for their corn; they are afraid of their friends lest they should ask something of them, beg or borrow; they are afraid of their enemies lest they hurt them, thieves lest they rob them; they are afraid of war and afraid of peace, afraid of rich and afraid of poor; afraid of all.” Last of all, they are afraid of want, that they shall die beggars, which makes them lay up still, and dare not use that they have: what if a dear year come, or dearth, or some loss? and were it not that they are both to [1857]lay out money on a rope, they would be hanged forthwith, and sometimes die to save charges, and make away themselves, if their corn and cattle miscarry; though they have abundance left, as [1858]Agellius notes. [1859]Valerius makes mention of one that in a famine sold a mouse for 200 pence, and famished himself: such are their cares, [1860]griefs and perpetual fears.

These symptoms are elegantly expressed by Theophrastus in his character of a covetous man; [1861]”lying in bed, he asked his wife whether she shut the trunks and chests fast, the cap-case be sealed, and whether the hall door be bolted; and though she say all is well, he riseth out of his bed in his s.h.i.+rt, barefoot and barelegged, to see whether it be so, with a dark lantern searching every corner, scarce sleeping a wink all night.” Lucian in that pleasant and witty dialogue called Gallus, brings in Mycillus the cobbler disputing with his c.o.c.k, sometimes Pythagoras; where after much speech pro and con, to prove the happiness of a mean estate, and discontents of a rich man, Pythagoras' c.o.c.k in the end, to ill.u.s.trate by examples that which he had said, brings him to Gnyphon the usurer's house at midnight, and after that to Encrates; whom, they found both awake, casting up their accounts, and telling of their money, [1862]lean, dry, pale and anxious, still suspecting lest somebody should make a hole through the wall, and so get in; or if a rat or mouse did but stir, starting upon a sudden, and running to the door to see whether all were fast. Plautus, in his Aulularia, makes old Euclio [1863]commanding Staphyla his wife to shut the doors fast, and the fire to be put out, lest anybody should make that an errand to come to his house: when he washed his hands, [1864]he was loath to fling away the foul water, complaining that he was undone, because the smoke got out of his roof. And as he went from home, seeing a crow scratch upon the muck-hill, returned in all haste, taking it for _malum omen_, an ill sign, his money was digged up; with many such. He that will but observe their actions, shall find these and many such pa.s.sages not feigned for sport, but really performed, verified indeed by such covetous and miserable wretches, and that it is,

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