AN

 

EXTRACT

 

FROM

 

MR. COWLEY'S ESSAYS.

 

VOL.- 20: 

 

ESSAYS,

 

IN PROSE AND VERSE.

 

I. ON SOLITUDE.

 

 NUNQUAM minus Bolus, quam cum solus, " Never less alone than when alone,"-is now become a very vulgar saying. Every man, for these seventeen hundred years, has had it in his mouth. But it was as at first spoken by the excellent Scipio, who was without question a most eloquent and witty person, as well as ' one of the most happy and the greatest of mankind. His meaning no doubt was, that he found more satisfaction to his mind, and more improvement of it by solitude than by company and to show that he spoke not this loosely, or out of vanity, after he had made Rome mistress of almost the whole world, he retired himself from it by a voluntary exile, and at a private house, in the middle of a wood near Linternum, passed the remainder of his glorious life no less gloriously. This house SENECA went to see so long after with great veneration, and among other things describes his hass to have been of so mean a structure, that now, says he, the basest of the people would despise them, and cry out, "Poor Sc ipio understood not how to live." The greatest part of men are so far from the opinion of that noble Roman, that if they chance at any time to be without company, they are like a becalmed ship; they never move but by the wind of other men's breath, and have no oars of their own to steer withal. It is very fantastical and contradictory in human nature, that.

 

men should love themselves above all the rest of the world, and yet. never endure to be with themselves. When they, are in love with a mistress, all other persons are importunate and burdensome to them. Tecum vivere amem, tecum obeara lubens . They would "live and die with her alone."

 

Sic ego secretis possent bene vivere silvir, Qua nulls humana sit via trita pede.

 

Tu nihi curarum requies, to nocte vel acrd Lumen, 

 

et in solis to milai turba locis.

 

With thee for ever I in woods could rest,

 

Where never human foot the ground has press'd; Thou from all shades the darkness canst exclude, And from a desert banish solitude,

 

And yet our dear self is so wearisome to us-, that we can scarcely support its conversation for an hour together. This is such, an odd temper of mind as CATULLUS expresses towards one of his mistresses, whom we may suppose to have been of 'a very unsociable humor.

 

Odi et arm, qudiuam id faciatn ratione requiris 

 

Nescio, red fieri sentio, et excrucior. 

 

I hate, and yet I love thee too;

 

How can that be I know not how;

 

Only that so it is I know,

 

And feel with torment that 'tis so:

 

 This is a deplorable condition, and drives a man sometimes to-pitiful shifts, in seeking how to avoid himself. The truth of the matter is, that neither he who is a fop in the world, is a fit man to be alone; nor he who has set his heart upon the world, though he have ever so much understanding,; so that solitude can be well fitted, and sit right but upon a very few persons. They must have knowledge enough of the world to see the vanity of it, and virtue, enough to despise all vanity. If the mind be possessed with any sinful desires or passions, a man had better be in a fair, than in a wood alone. They may, like petty thieves, cheat us, perhaps, and pick our pockets in tine midst of company; but like robbers, they use to strip and bind, or murder us, when they catch us alone. This is but to retreat from men, and fall into the hands of devils-The first work therefore that a man must do to:make himself capable of the good of solitude, is the very eradication of sinful desires; for how is it possible for a man to enjoy himself, while his affections are tied to 3.hina without himself-In the second place, he must learn to think. Now, because the soul of man is not by its own nature or observation furnished with sufficient materials to work upon, it is necessary for it to have re-course to books for fresh supphes. Life will grow indigent, and be ready to starve without them; but with them, instead of being wearied with the length of any day, we shall only complain of the shortness of our whole life.

 

O vita, stulto Tonga, sapaenti brevis!

 

O life, long to the fool, short to the wise!

 

 The first Minister of State has not so much business in public, as a wise man has in private. If the one have little leisure to be alone, the other has less leisure to be in company; the one has but part of the affairs of one nation, the other all the works of GOD and nature under consideration. No saying shocks me so much as that which I hear very often, "That a man does not know bow to pass his time. " It would have been but ill spoken by METHUSELAHI, in the nine hundred and sixty-ninth year of his age. So far it is from us, who have not time enough to attain to the perfection of any part of any science, to have cause to complain that we are forced to be idle for want of work. a But this," you will say, a is only work for the learned; others are not capable either of the employments or diversions that arise from letters)' I know they are not; and therefore cannot recommend such retirement to a man totally illiterate.

 

I.

 

Hail! old Patrician trees, so great and good;

 

Hail! ye Plebeian underwood;

 

Where the poetic birds rejoice,

 

And for their quiet nests and plenteous food, 

 

Pay with their grateful voice.

 

II.

 

Here Nature does a house for me erect,

 

Nature the fairest architect,

 

Who those fond artists do despise, 

 

That can the fair and living trees neglect,

 

Yet the dead timber prize.

 

Ah wretched, and too solitary he,

 

Who loves not his own company! 

 

He'll feel the weight of the many a day,

 

Unless he call in sin or vanity To help to bear away.

 

II.. ON GREATNESS.

 

 "SINCE we cannot attain to greatness," says the SIEUR DE MONTAGUE, "let us have our revenge by railing at it." This he spoke but in jest. I believe he desired it no more than I do; and had less reason,---for he enjoyed so plentiful a fortune in a most excellent country, as allowed him all the real conveniences of greatness, separated from the incommodities. If I were but in his condition, I should think it hard measure, without being convicted of any crime, to be sequestered from it, and made one of the principal Officers of State. But the Reader may think that what I now say is, of small authority, because I never was,-nor ever shall be, put to the trial. I can therefore only make my protestation:

 

If e'er ambition did my fancy cheat 

 

With any wish so mean, as to be great,

 

Continue, Heaven, still from me to remove,

 

The humble blessings of that life I love.

 

 I know very many men will despise, and some pity me, for this humor, as a poor-spirited fellow: but I am content; sand, like HORACE, thank GOD: for being so Dii bene fecerunt, inopis me quodque pusilli finxerunt animi. I confess, I love littleness almost in all things;-a little convenient estate, a little cheerful house, a little company, and a very little feast.

 

 How tedious would it be, if we were always bound to be great. I believe there is no King who would not-rather be deposed, than endure every day of his reign all the ceremonies of his Coronation. The mightiest -Princes are glad to flee often from these majestic pleasures, (which is, methinks, no small disparagement to, them,) as it were for refuge, to the most contemptible diversions, and meanest recreations of the vulgar, nay, even of children. One of the most powerful and fortunate Princes of •the world, of late, could find out no delight so satisfactory, as that of -,keeping little singing birds, and hearing -them, and whistling to. them. What did the Emperors of the whole world If ever any men had the free and full enjoyment of all human greatness, (nay, that would not suffice, for; they would be gods too,) they certainly possessed it., And yet one of then, who- styled himself "LORD and God of -the earth," could not tell how to -pass his whole day pleasantly, without spending constantly two or three hours in catching fhes, and killing them with a bodkin,-as if his godship had been Beelzebub. One of his predecessors, Nero, (who never put any bounds, nor met with any.stop, to his appetite,) could divert himself with no pastille more agreeable, than to run about the streets all night in a disguise, and insult the women, and affront the men, whom he met; sometimes beating them, and sometimes being beaten by them. This was one of his imperial Pleasures, His chiefest in the day was to sing and play upon a fiddle, in the habit of a minstrel, upon the public stage; he was prouder of the garlands that were given in honor of his "divine voice," (as they then called it,) in those kinds of prizes, than all his forefathers were of their triumphs over nations. He did not at his death complain, that so mighty an Emperor, and the last of the Caesarian race of deities, should he brought to so shameful and miserable an end; but only cried out, " Alas! what pity it is that so excellent a musician should perish in this manner!" His uncle CLAUDIUS spent half his time in playing at dice;-that was a main fruit of his sovereignty. I omit the madness Of CALIGULA'S delights, and the execrable sordidness of those of TIBERIUS. Would one think that AUGUSTUS himself, the highest and most fortunate of mankind, a person endowed too with excellent parts, should be so hard put to it sometimes, for want of recreations, as to be found playing at nuts, and bounding stones, with little Syrian and Moorish boys.

 

Was it for this that ~his ambition strove,

 

To equal CAESAR first, and after Jove 

 

Greatness is barren sure of solid joys; Her merchandise (I fear) is all in toys;

 

She could not else sure so uncivil be, To treat his universal majesty, His new created deity,

 

With nuts, and bounding stones, and boys.

 

 But we must excuse her for this meagre entertainment she has not really wherewithal to make such feasts as we imagine: her guests must be contented sometimes with but slender fare, and with the same cold meats served over and over again, until they become nauseous. When you have pared away all the vanity, what solid contentment does there remain, which may not be had with a small fortune Not so many servants or horses; but a few good ones, which will do all the business as well: Not so many dishes at every meal; but at several meals, which makes them both more healthful and more pleasant: Not so rich garments, nor so frequent changes; but as warm and as comely, and so frequent change too, as is every jot as good for the master, though not for the tailor Not such a stately palace, nor gilded rooms, nor costhest sorts of tapestry; but a convenient house, with decent wainscot. Lastly, (for I omit all other particulars, and will end with that which I love most, in both conditions,) not whole woods cut in walks, nor vast parks, nor fountains, nor cascade gardens; but herb, and flower, and fruit gardens, which are more useful, and the water of which is every whit as clear and wholesome, as if darted from the breasts of a marble nymph, or the urn of a river-god. If, for all this, you like better the substance of that former estate of life, do but consider the inseparable accidents of both. Servitude, disquiet, danger, and commonly guilt, are inherent in the one; in the other, liberty, tranquillity, security, and innocence. When you have thought upon this, you will confess that to be a truth, which appeared to you before but a ridiculous paradox,-that a low fortune is better guarded than a high one. If indeed we look upon the flourishing head of the tree, it appears a most beautiful object;

 

 Sed quantum vertice ad auras.Ethereas, tantum radice ad Tartara tendit.

 

As far as up towards heaven the branches grow, So far the root sinks down to hell below.

 

Another horrible disgrace to greatness is, that it is for the most part in pitiful want and distress. What a wonderful thing is this Unless it degenerate into avarice, and so cease to be greatness, it falls perpetually into such necessities, as drive it into borrowing, cozenage, or robbery. Mancipiis locuples eget ceris Cappadocuna Rex. This is the case of almost all great men, as well as of the poor King of Cappadocia. They abound with slaves, but are indigent of money. The ancient Roman Emperors, who had the riches of the whole world for their revenue, had wherewithal to live (one would have thought) pretty well at ease, and to have been exempt from the pressures of poverty. But yet, with most of them it was much otherwise; and they fell perpetually into such miserable penury, that they were forced to devour or squeeze most of their friends or servants, to cheat with infamous projects, to ransack and pillage all their provinces. This fashion of imperial grandeur is imitated by all inferior and subordinate sorts of it, as if it were a point of honor. They must be cheated of a third part of their estates; and two other thirds they must expend in vanity; so that they remain debtors for all the necessary provisions of life, and have no way to satisfy those debts, but out of the succours and supphes of rapine. "As riches increase," says Solomon, "so do they that eat them." The master-mouth has no more than before. The owner, methinks, is like Ocvus in the fable, who is perpetually winding a rope of hay, and an ass at the end perpetually eating it. Out of these inconveniencies arises naturally one more, which is, that no greatness can be satisfied or, contented with itself. Still, if it could mount up a little higher, then it would be happy; if it could but gain that point, it would obtain all its desires. But yet, at last, when it is got up to the very top of the Peak of Teneriffe, it is in very great danger of breaking its neck downwards; but in no possibility of ascending upwards into the seat of tranquility above the moon. The first ambitious men in the world, the old giants, are said to have made an heroical attempt to scale heaven in despite of the gods; and they cast Ossa upon Olympus, and Pelion upon Ossa; two or three mountains more they thought would have done the business; but the thunder spoiled all the work, when they were come up to the third story.

 

 A famous person of their offspring, the late giant of our nation, when, front the condition of a very inconsiderable captain, he had made himself Lieutenant-General of an army of little Titans, which was his first mountain,-and afterwards General, which was his second,-and after that, absolute tyrant of three kingdoms, which was the third,__ and almost touched the heaven which he affected,-is believed to have died with grief and discontent, because he could not attain to the honest name of a King, and the old formality of a Crown, though he had before exceeded the power. If he could have compassed that, he would perhaps have wanted something else, and pined away for want of the title of an Emperor, or a god. The reason of this is, that greatness has no reality in nature, but is a creature of the fancy, a notion that consists only in relation and comparison. It is indeed an idol; but ST. PAUL teaches us that a an idol is nothing in the world. There is in truth no rising or meridian of the sun, 'but only in respect to several places. There is no right or left, or upper hand, in nature: every thing is little, and every thing is great, according as it is differently compared. There may be perhaps some village in Scotland or Ireland, where I might be a great man; and in that case I should be like CAESAR, (you would wonder how CAESAR and I should be like one another in any thing,) and choose rather to be the first man of the village, than the second at Rome. Our country is called Great Britain, in regard only of a lesser of the same name; it would be but a ridiculous epithet for it, when we consider it together with the kingdom of China. That too, is but a pitiful rood of ground in comparison of the whole earth besides; and this whole globe of earth, which we account so immense a body, is but one point or atom, in relation to those numberless worlds that are scattered up and down in the infinite space of the sky -which we behold.

 

I.

 

We look at men, and wonder at such odds

 

'Twixt things that were the same by birth; 

 

We look on Kings as giants of the earth 

 

These giants are but pigmies to the gods.

 

The humblest bush, and proudest oak,

 

Are but of equal proof against the thunder-stroke. 

 

Beauty, and strength, and wit, and wealth, and power,

 

Have their short flourishing hour;

 

And love to see themselves, and smile, 

 

And joy in their pre-eminence a while

 

Even so, in the same land,

 

Poor weeds, rich corn, gay flowers, together stand; 

 

Alas! death mows down all with an impartial hand.

 

II.

 

And all you men, whom greatness does so please,

 

Ye feast (I fear) like DAMOCLES

 

If you your eyes could upwards move, 

 

(But you, I fear, think nothing is above,) 

 

You would perceive by what a little thread

 

The sword still hangs over your head.

 

No tide of wine could drowh your cares; 

 

No mirth or music over-noise your fears.

 

The fear of death would you so watchful keep, 

 

As not to admit the image of it, sleep.

 

III.

 

Sleep is too proud to wait in palaces;

 

And yet so humble too, as not to scorn 

 

The meanest country cottages His poppy grows among the corn.

 

The halcyon sleep will never build his nest

 

In any stormy breast.

 

'Tis not enough that he does find Clouds and darkness in their mind; 

 

Darkness but half his work will do,

 

'Tis not enough, he must find quiet too.

 

 

 

III. THE DANGER OF AN HONEST MAN IN MUCH COMPANY.

 

 IF twenty thousand naked Americans were not able to resist the assaults of but twenty well-armed Spaniards, I see but little possibility for one honest man to defend himself against twenty thousand knaves, who are all furnished cap-ape, with the defensive arms of worldly prudence, and the offensive ones too, of craft and malice. He will find no less odds than this against him, if he have much to do in human affairs. The only advice therefore which I can give him, is, to be sure not to venture his person any longer in the open campaign; to retreat and entrench himself; to stop up all avenues, and draw up all bridges, against so numerous an enemy. The truth of it is, that a man in much business must either make himself a knave, or else the world will make him a fool: and if the injury went no farther than the being laughed at, a wise man would content himself with the revenge of retaliation; but the case is much worse, for these civil cannibals too, as well as the wild ones, not only, dance about such a taken stranger, but at last devour him. A sober man cannot get too soon out of drunken company, though they be ever so kind and merry among themselves: it is not unpleasant only, but dangerous to him. Do ye wonder that a virtuous man should love to be alone It is hard for him to be otherwise: he is so, when he is among ten thousand. Neither is the solitude so uncomfortable, to be alone without any other creature, as it is to be alone in the midst of wild beasts. Man is to man all kinds of beasts, - a fawning dog, a roaring lion, a thieving fox, a robbing wolf, a dissembling crocodile, a treacherous decoy, and a rapacious vulture. The civilest, methinks, of all nations, are those whom we account the most barbarous. There is some moderation and good nature in the Toupinambaltians, who eat no men but their enemies; whilst we learned, and polite, and Christian Europeans, like so many pikes and sharks, prey upon every thing that we can swallow. 

 

 It is the great boast of eloquence and philosophy, that they first congregated men dispersed, united them into societies, and built up the houses and the walls of cities. I wish they would unravel all they have woven; that we might have our woods and our innocence again, instead of our castles and policies. They have assembled many thousands of scattered people into one body: it is true, they have done so; they have brought them together into cities to cozen, and into armies to murder one another. They found them hunters and fishers of wild creatures, they have made them hunters and fishers of their brethren: they boast to have reduced them to a state of peace, when the truth is, they have only taught them the, art of wary They have framed, I must confess, wholesome laws for the restraint of vice but they raised first that Devil which now they conjure and cannot bind; though there were before no punishments for wickedness, yet there was less committed, because there were no rewards for it. But the men who praise philosophy from this topic are much deceived; let oratory answer for itself, the tinkling perhaps of that may unite a swarm; it never was the work of philosophy to assemble multitudes, but to regulate only, and govern them, when they were assembled to make the best of an evil, and bring them, as much as is possible, to unity again. Avarice and ambition only were the first builders of towns and founders of empire; they said, " Go to, let us build us a city, and a tower, whose top may reach unto heaven; and let us make us a name, lest we be scattered abroad upon the face of the earth." What was the beginning of Rome, the metropolis of all the world What was it but a concourse of thieves, and a sanctuary of criminals It was justly named by the augury of no less than twelve vultures, and the Founder cemented his walls with the blood of his brother. Not unlike to this was the beginning of the first town too in the world, and such is the original sin of most cities; their actual increase daily with their age and growth. The more people, the more wicked all of them: every one brings in his part to inflame the contagion, which becomes at last so universal and so strong, that no precepts can be sufficient preservatives, nor any thing secure our safety but flight from among the infected. We ought, in the choice of a situation, to regard above all things the healthfulness of the place; and the healthfulness of it for the mind rather than for the body. But suppose (which is hardly to be supposed) we had antidote enough against this poison; nay, suppose farther, we were always armed and provided both. against the assaults of hostility, and the mines of treachery; it will be but an uncomfortable life to be ever in alarms. Though we were compassed round with fire, to defend ourselves from wild beasts, the lodging would be unpleasant, because we must always be obliged to watch that fire, and to fear no less the defects of our guard; than the diligence of our enemy. The sum of this is, that a virtuous man is in danger to be trod upon and destroyed in the crowd of his contraries; nay, which is worse, to be changed and corrupted by them, and that it is hard to escape both these inconveniences, without so much caution, as will take away the whole quiet, that is, the happiness of his life. Ye see, then, what he may lose; but, I pray, what can he get there *. What should a man of truth and honesty do at Rome He can neither understand, nor speak the language of the place. A naked man may swim in the sea, but it is not the way to catch fish there; they

 

are likelier to devour him than he them, if he bring no nets, and use no deceits.

 

 Nay, if nothing of all this were in the case, yet the very sight of uncleanness is loathsome to the cleanly; the sight of folly and impiety vexatious to the wise and pious.

 

 LUCRETIUS, by his favor, though a good poet, was but an ill-natured man, when he said, It was delightful to see other men in a great storm: and no less ill-natured should I think DEMOCRITUS, who laughed at all the world,-but that he retired himself so much out of it, that we may perceive he took no great pleasure in that kind of mirth. I have been drawn twice or thrice by company to go to Bedlam, and have seen others very much delighted with the fantastical extravagancy of so many various madnesses, which upon me wrought so contrary an effect, that I always returned, not only melancholy, but even sick with the sight. My compassion there was perhaps too tender, for I meet a thousand madmen abroad, without any perturbation, though to weigh the matter justly, the total loss of reason is less deplorable than the total depravation of it. An exact judge of human blessings, of riches, honors, beauty, even of wit itself, should pity the abuse of them more than the want.

 

 Briefly, though a wise man could pass never so securely through the great roads of human life, yet he will meet perpetually with so many objects and occasions of compassion, grief, shame, anger, hatred, indignation, and all passions but envy, (for he will find nothing to deserve that,) that he had better strike into some private path; nay, go so far, if he could, out of the common way, Ut nec facts audiat Pelopidarum; that he might not so much as hear of'the actions of the sons of ADAM.

 

 Quiz terra patet fern regnat Erynnis, In facinus jurdsse pates. One would think that all mankind had bound themselves by an oath to do all the wickedness they can; that they had all (as the Scripture speaks) "sold themselves to sin: " the difference only is, that some are a little more crafty (and but a little, GOD knows!) in making the bargain. I thought, when I went first to dwell in the country, that without doubt I should there have met with the simplicity of the old poetical golden age: I thought to have found no inhabitants there, but such as the Shepherds of Site PHILIP SYDNEY, in Arcadia and began to consider with myself, -which way I might recommend no less to posterity the happiness and innocence of the men of Chertsey: But to confess the truth, I perceived quickly, by infallible demonstrations, that I was still- in Old England, and dot in Arcadia; that if I could not content myself with any thing less than exact fidelity in human conversation, I had almost as good go back and se 6k for it in the Court, or the Exchange, or Westminster-Hall. I ask then, whither shall we fly, or what shall we do The world may so come in a man's way, that he cannot choose but salute it, he must take heed though not to go a whoring after it. If by any lawful vocation, or just necessity, men happen to be married to it, I can only give them ST. PAUL'S advice. "Brethren, the time is short: it remains, that they that have wives be as though they had none. But I would that all men were even as I myself."

 

 In all cases they must be sure that they do Mundum ducere, and not Mundo nu-bere. They must retain the superiority and headship over it: happy are they who can get out of the sight of this deceitful beauty, that they may not be led so much as into temptation; who have not only quitted the metropolis, but can abstain from ever seeing the next market-town of their country.

 

 

 

IV. THE SHORTNESS OF LIFE, AND UNCERTAINTY OF RICHES.

 

 If you should see a man who was to cross from Dover to Calais, run about very busy and solicitous, and trouble himself many- weeks before in making provisions for his voyage, would you commend him for a cautious and discreet person, or laugh at him for a timorous and impertinent coxcomb A man who is excessive in his pains and diligence, and who consumes the greatest part of his time in furnishing the remainder with all conveniences and even superfluities, is to angels and wise men no less ridiculous; he does as little consider the shortness of his passage, that he might proportion his cares accordingly. It is, alas! so narrow a strait betwixt the womb and the grave, that it might be called the Pas de Vie, as well as that the Pas de Calais. We are * (as PINDAR calls us,) creatures of a day; and therefore our SAVIOR bounds our desires to that little space; as if it were very probable that every day should be our last, we are taught to. demand even bread for no longer a time. The sun ought not to set upon our covetousness, any more than upon our anger. But as to ALMIGHTY GOD, "a thousand years are as one day“ so in direct opposition, one day to a covetous man, is as a thousand years Tam brevi fortis aculatur muo multa; so far he shoots beyond his butt: one would think he was of the opinion of the Millenaries, and hoped for so long a reign upon earth. The Patriarchs before the flood, who enjoyed almost such a life, made, we are sure, less stores for the maintaining of it; they who lived nine hundred years scarcely provided for a few days we who live but a few days, provide at least for nine hundred years: what a strange alteration is this of human life and manners And yet we see an imitation of it in every man's particular experience; for we begin not the cares of life till it be half spent, and still increase them as that decreases. What is there among the actions of beasts so illogical and repugnant to reason When they do any thing which seems to proceed from that which we call reason, we disdain to allow them that perfection, and attribute it only to a natural instinct If we could but learn to, "number our days," (as we are taught to pray that we might,) we should adjust much better our other accounts: but whilst we never consider an end of them, it is no wonder if our cares for them be without end too.

 

 HORACE advises very wisely, and in excellent good words, Spatio brevi spem longam reseces; from a short life cut off all hopes that grow too long. They must be pruned away like suckers that choke the mother-plant; and hinder it from bearing fruit. And in another place to the same sense, Vitae summa brevis spem nos vet at inchoare longam; which SENECA does not mend when he says, O quanta dementia est sees longas inehoantium! But he gives an, example there of an acquaintance- of his named SENECIO, who from a very mean beginning, by great industry, in turning about of money through all-ways of gain, had attained to extraordinary riches, but died on a sudden, after having supped merrily, In ipso actu bene cedentium rerum, in ipso procurrentis fortunce impetu, in the full course of his good fortune, when she had a high tide, a stiff gale, and all her sails on; upon which occasion he cries, Out Of VIRGIL,

 

Insere nunc Melibcee gyros, 

 

pone ordine vites.

 

Go MELIBAEUS, now, 

 

Go graft thy orchards, and thy vineyards plant; Behold: the fruit!

 

 For this SENECIO I have the less compassion, because he was `taken, as we say, in ipso facto, still laboring in the work of avarice; but-the poor rich man in ST. LUKE, seems to have been satisfied at last: he confesses he had enough for many years, he bids his soul take its ease, and yet for all that, GOD says to him, " Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee;" and the things thou hast laid up, whom shall they belong to Where shall we find the causes of this bitter reproach and terrible judgment We may find, I think, two, and GOD perhaps saw more. First, That he did not intend true rest to his soul, but only to change the employments of it from avarice to luxury; his design is to eat, and to drink, and to be merry. Secondly, That he went on too long before he thought of resting; the fullness of his old. barns had not sufficed him; he would stay until he was forced to build new ones; and GOD meted out to him the same measure:

 

 Since he would have more riches than his life could contain, GOD destroyed his life, and gave the fruits of it to another. Thus GOD takes away sometimes the man from his riches, and no less frequently riches from the man. What hope' can there be of such a marriage, where both parties are so fickle and uncertain By what bonds can such a couple be kept long together

 

I.

 

Why dost thou heap up wealth, which thou must quit,

 

Or, what is worse, be left by it

 

Why dost thou load thyself, when thou'rt to fly,

 

Oman! ordained to die

 

II.

 

Why dost thou build up stately rooms on high, 

 

Thou who art under ground to he

 

Thou sow'st and plantest, but no fruit must see, 

 

 For death, alas! is sowing thee.

 

III.

 

Ev'n aged men, as if they truly were

 

Children again, for age prepare; Provisions for long travel they design,

 

In the last point of their short line.

 

IV.

 

Wisely the ant against poor, winter hoards

 

The stock which summer's wealth afford;

 

In grasshoppers; that must in autumn die,

 

How vain were such an industry

 

V.

 

Of power and honor the deceitful light

 

Might half excuse our cheated sight,

 

If it of life the whole small time would stay,

 

And be our sun-shine all the day.

 

VI.

 

Like lightning that, begot but in a cloud,

 

(Though shining bright, and speaking loud,)

 

Whilst it begins, concludes its violent race,

 

And where it gilds; it wounds the place.

 

VII.

 

O scene of fortune, which dost fair appear,

 

Only to men that stand not near!

 

Proud poverty, that tinsel brav'ry wears!

 

And, like a rainbow, painted tears!

 

VIII.

 

Be prudent, and the shore in prospect keep,

 

In a weak boat trust not the deep.

 

Plac'd beneath envy, above envying rise;

 

Pity great men, great things despise.

 

IX.

 

The wise example of the heavenly lark,

 

Thy fellow-poet, COWLEY, mark;

 

Above the clouds let thy proud music sound,

 

Thy humble nest build on the ground.

 

 

 

V. THE DANGER OF PROCRASTINATION.

 

A LETTER TO MR. S- L.

 

 I AM glad that you approve and applaud my design of withdrawing myself from all tumult and business of the world; and consecrating the little rest of my time to those studies to which Nature had inclined me, and from which Fortune has so long detained me. But nevertheless (you say, which, But, is, Erugo mere; a rust which spoils the good metal it grows upon; but you say) you would advise me not to precipitate that resolution, but to stay a while longer with patience and complaisance, until I had gotten such an estate as might afford me (according to the saying of that person whom you and I love very much, and would believe as soon as another man) Cum dignitate otium. This were excellent advice to JOSHUA, who could bid the sun stay too. But there is no fooling with life, when it is once turned beyond forty. The seeking of a fortune then, is but a desperate after-game: it is an hundred to one if a man fling two sixes, and recover all especially if his hand be no luckier than mine. There is some help for all the defects of fortune, for if a man cannot attain to the length of his wishes, he may have his remedy by cutting of them shorter. Epicurus writes a letter to IDOMENEAS, (who was then a very powerful, wealthy, and it seems bountiful person,) to recommend to him who had made so many men rich, one PYTHOCLES, a friend of his, who he desired might be made a rich man too: But I entreat you, that you would not do it just the same way as you have done to many less deserving persons, but in the most genteel manner of obliging him, which is not to add any thing to his estate, but to take something from his desires. The sum of this is, that for the uncertain hopes of some conveniences, we ought not to defer the execution of a work that is necessary, especially when the use of those things which we would stay for, may otherwise be supplied, but the loss of time never recovered: nay, farther yet, though we were sure to obtain all that we had a mind to, though we were sure of getting never so much -by continuing, the game, yet when the light of life is so near going out, and ought to 'be so precious, L-e" jeu ne vaut pas la

 

chandelle,----The play is not worth the expense of the candle.

 

 After having been long tossed in a tempest, if our masts be; standing, and we- have still sail and, tackling enough, to Barry us to our port; it is- no matter for streamers and top

 

r1lants: Utere-relic, totos pande sinus. A gentleman in out late civil wars, when his quarters were beaten up by the-enemy, was taken prisoner, and lost his life afterwards, only by staying to put on a band, and adjust his periwig. He would escape like a person of quality, or not at all, and died the noble martyr of ceremony and gentility. I think your counsel of festina lente is as ill to a man who is flying from the world, as it would have been to that unfortunate well-bred gentleman, who was so cautious as not to fly undecently from his enemies; and therefore I prefer HORACE'S advice before yours.

 

 Begin; the getting out of doors is the greatest part of the journey. VARRO teaches us that Latin proverb, Portant itineri longissimam esse. But to return to HORACE,

 

Sapere aside, Incipe; vivendi qui recte prorogat horem, Rusticus expectat dum defluat amnis, ac ille Labitur, et labetur in omne volubilis cevum.

 

Begin, be bold, and venture to be wise;

 

He wbo defers this work from day to day, 

 

Does on a river's bank expecting stay,

 

Till the whole stream, which stopped him, should be gone. 

 

That runs, and, as it runs, for ever will run on.

 

 CAESAR, the man of expedition above all others, was so far from this folly, that whensoever in a journey he was to cross any river, he never went one foot out of his way for a bridge, or a ford, or a ferry, but flung himself into it immediately, and swam over; and this is the course we ought to imitate, if we meet with any stops in our way to happiness. Stay until the waters are low stay until some boats come by to transport you; stay until a bridge be built for you: you had as good stay until the river be quite passed. PERSUTIS (who, you use to say, you did not know whether he be a good poet or no, because you cannot understand him, and whom therefore, I say, I know to be not a good poet) has an odd expression of these procrastinators, which, methinks, is full of fancy:-

 

Jam Cras Hesternum consumpsimus, Ecce aliud Cras Egerit hos annos.

 

 PERS. Satyr. ,5.

 

Our yesterday's tomorrow now is gone, And still a new tomorrow does come on; We by tomorrows draw up all our store, Till the exhausted well can yield no more.

 

Hic, O Viator, sub lare parvulo, 

 

Couleius Hic est conditus, Hic facet

 

Defunctus humani laboris

 

Sorte, supervacuaque vita, 

 

Non indecora pauperie nitens, 

 

Et non inerti nobilis otio,

 

Vanoque dilectis popello

 

Divitiis animosus hostis. 

 

Possis ut illum dicere mortuum,

 

En terra jam nunc quantula suf cit

 

Exempta sit euris, viator,

 

Terra sit illa levis, precare. 

 

Hic sparge flares, sparge breves roses, Nam vita gaudet mortua floribus,

 

Herbisque odoratis corona

 

Vatis adhue cinerem calentem.

 

 MART. Lib. 5: Epigr. 59.

 

Tomorrow you will live, you always cry:

 

In what far country does this morrow he, That 'tis so mighty long ere it arrive Beyond the Indies does this morrow live 'Tis so far fetch'd this morrow, that I fear 'Twill be both very old, and very dear. Tomorrow I will live, the fool does say;

 

Today itself's too late, the wise liv'd yesterday.

 

 MART. Lib. 2: Epigr. 9O.

 

 Wonder not, Sir, (you who instruct the town In the true wisdom of the sacred gown,) That I make haste to live, and cannot hold Patiently out, till I grow rich and old. Life for delays and doubts no time does give, None ever yet made haste enough to live. Let him defer it, whose preposterous care Omits himself, and reaches to his heir Who does his father's bounded stores despise, And whom his own too never can suffice.

 

My humble thoughts no glittering roofs require, Or rooms that shine with aught but constant fire. I will content the av'rice of my sight, With the fair gildings of reflected light: Pleasures abroad, the sport of nature yields, Her living fountains, and her smiling fields And then at home, what pleasure is't to see

 

A little cleanly cheerful family

 

Which if a chaste wife crown, no less in her,

 

Than fortune, I the golden mean prefer.

 

Too noble, nor too wise, she should not be;

 

No, nor too rich, too fair, too fond of me.

 

Thus let my life slide silently away,

 

With sleep all night, and quiet all the day.