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But every body pays him great respect ; every jealousy, fear, envy, grief, and all the el cætera body comiends his meat, that is, his money; of their passions, which are the secret, but conevery body admires the exquisite dressing and stant, tyrants and torturers of their life, I omit ordering of it, that is, his clerk of the kitchen, here, because, though they be symptoms most or his cook; every body loves his hospitality, frequent and violent in this disease, yet they are that is, his vanity. But I desire to know why common too in some degree to the epidemical the honest inn-keeper, who provides a public disease of life itself. table for his profit, should be but of a mean pro- ! But the ambitious man, though he be so many fession; and he, who does it for his honour, a ways á slave (o toties servus !) yet he bears it munificent prince. You will say, because one bravely and heroically ; he struts and looks big sells, and the other gives : nay, both sell, upon the stage; he thinks himself a real prince though for different things; the one for plain in his masking-habit, and deceives too all the money, the other for I know not what jewels, foolish part of his spectators : he is a slave its whose valne is in custom and in fancy. If then saturnalibus. The coretous man is a downright his table be made “a snare" (as the Scripture 9 servant, a draught-horse withont bells or feaspeaks) “ to his liberty,” where can he hope for thers : ad metalla damnatus, a man condemned freedoin? There is always, and everywhere, to " rk in mines, which is the lowest and hardest some restraint upon him. He is guarded with condition of servitude; and, to increase his mi. crowds, and shackled with formalities. The half sery, a worker there for he knows not whom : hat, the whole hat, the half smile, the whole “ He heapeth up riches, and knows not who shall smile, the nod, the embrace, the positive part- enjoy them 3 ;" it is only sure, that he himself ing with a little bow, the comparative at the mid- neither shall nor can enjoy them. He is an indidle of the room, the superlative at the door; and, gent, needy slave; he will hardly allow himself if the person be pan huper sebastus, there is a hy- | clothes and board-wages : persuperlative ceremony then of conducting him to the bottom of the stairs, or to the very gate:
Unciatim vix de demenso suo, as if there were such rules set to these Leviathans, Suum defraudans geuium, comparsit miser * ; as are to the sea, “ Hitherto shalt thou go, and no further 1"
| He defrauds not only other men, but his own
genius; he cheats himself for money. But the Perditur hæc inter misero lux ",
servile and miserable condition of this wretch is Thus wretchedly the precious day is lost.
so apparent, that I leave it, as evident to every How many impertinent letters and visits must he man's sight, as well as judgment. receive, and sometimes answer both too as imperti- It seems a more difficult work to prove that nently! He never sets his foot beyond his threshold, the voluptıious man too is but a servant : what unless, like a funeral, he have a train to follow him; can be more the life of a freeman, or, as we say as if, like the dead corpse, he could not stir, till the ordinarily, of a gentleman, than to follow nothing bearers were all ready. “My life (says Horace, but his own pleasures? Why, I will tell you who speaking to one of these magnificos) is a great is that true freeman, and that true gentleman, deal more easy and commodious than thine, in not he who blindly follows all his pleasures (the that I can go into the market, and cheapen what very name of follower is servile); but he who raI please, without being wondered at; and take tionally guides them, and is not hindered by my horse and ride as far as Tarentum, without outward impediments in the conduct and enjoybeing missed." It is an unpleasant constraint to ment of them. If I want skill or force to restrain be always under the sight and observation, and the beast that I ride upon, though I bought it, censare, of others; as there may be vanity in it, and call it my own, vet in the truth of the matter, so methinks there should be vexation, too, of spi- | I am at that time rather bis man, than he my rit: and I wonder how princes can endure to have horse. The voluptnous men (whom we have faltwo or three hundred men stand gazing upon them len upon) may be divided, I think, into the lustwhilst they are at dinner, and taking notice of ful and luxurious, who are both servants of the every bit they eat. Nothing seems greater and belly ; the other, whom we spoke of before, the more lordly than the multitude of domestic ser- ambitious and the covetous, were tarde Inplay, vants ; but.even this too, if weighed seriously, evil wild beasts: these are gacions agai, slo: is a piece of servitude ; unless you will be a ser- bellies, as our translation renders it, but the word vant to them (as many men are) the trouble ágyai (which is a fantastical word, with two diand care of yours in the government of them all, is rectly opposite significations) will bear as well much more than that of every one of them in their the translation of quick or diligent bellies; and observance of you. I take the profession of a both interpretations may be applied to these men. school-master to be one of the most useful, and Metrodorus said, "that he had learnt almos which ought to be of the most honourable in a γαςρι χαρίζεσθαι, to give his belly just thanks commonwealth;. yet certainly all his fasces and for all his pleasures.” This, by the calumniators tyrannical authority over so many boys takes of Epicurus's philosophy, was objected as one of away his own liberty more than theirs.
the most scandalous of all their sayings; which, I do but slightly touch upon all these particu according to my charitable understanding, may Jars of the slavery of greatness: I shake but a admit a very virtuous sense, which is, that he few of their outward chains; their anger, hatred, thanked his own belly for that moderation, in the
customary appetites of it, which can only give a | I'll beg no more : if more thou'rt please to gire, man liberty and happiness in this world. Let I'll thankfully that overplus receive : this suffice at present to be spoken of those great if beyond this no more be freely sent, triumviri of the world; the covetous man, who | I'll thank for this and go away content. is a mean villain, like Lepidus ; the ambitious, who is a brave one, like Octavius; and the voluptuous, who is a loose and debauched one, like
MARTIAL, Lib. I. Ep. Ivi. Nark Antony:
Vota tui breviter, &c. Quisnam igitur liber? Sapiens, sibique imperiosus s :
Well then, sir, you shall know how far extend
The prayers and hopes of your poetic friend. Not Oenomaus 6, who commits himself wholly | He does not palaces por manors crave, to a charioteer, that may break his neck ; but | Would be no lord, but less a lord would have : the man,
The ground he holds, if he his own can call,
He quarrels not with Heaven because 'tis small : Who governs his own course with steady hand ; | Let gay and toilsome greatness others please, Who does himself with sovereign power com- | He loves of homely littleness the ease. mand;
Can any man in gilded rooms attend, Whom neither death nor poverty does fright ; | And his dear hours in humble visits spend, Who stands not aukwardly in his own light When in the fresh and beauteous fields he may Against the truth; who can, when pleasures with various healthful pleasures fill the day?
If there be nian (ye gods!) I ought to hate, Loud at his door, kcep firm the bolt and lock;
Dependance and attendance be his fate : Who can, though Honour at his gate should stay still let him busy be, and in a crowd, In all her masking cloaths, send her away, | And very much a slave, and very proud : And cry,“ ke gone, I have no mind to play.” Thus he perhaps powerful and rich may grow;
No matter, O ye gods! that I'll allow: This, I confess, is a freeman: but it may be said,
But let him peace and freedom never see; that many persons are so shackled by their for
Let him not love this life, who loves not me! tune, that they are hindered from enjoyment of that manumission which they have obtained from virtue. I do both understand, and in part
MARTIAL, Lib. II. Ep. liii. fee!, the weight of this objection ; all I can answer to it is, that we must get as much liberty as
Vis fieri liber? &c. we can, we must use our utmost endeavours, and, when all that is done, be contented with the | Would you be free? 'Tis your chief wish you length of that line which is allowed us. If you
say ; ask me, in what condition of life I think the Come on; I'll show thee, friend, the certain way; most allowed; I should pitch upon that sort of If to no feasts abroad thou lov'st to go, people, whom King James was wont to call the While bounteous God does bread at home bestow; happiest of our nation, the men placed in the If thou the goodness of thy cloaths dost prize country by their fortune above an high constable, By thine own use, and not by others' eyes; and yet beneath the trouble of a justice of peace; if (only safe from weathers) thou canst drell in a moderate plenty, without any just argument in a small house, but a convenient shell; for the desire of increasing it by the care of If thou, without a sigh, or golden wish, many relations; and with so much knowledge and Canst look upon thy beechen bowl and dish ; love of piety and philosophy (that is, of the If in thy mind such power and greatness be, study of God's laws, and of his creatures) as may The Persian king's a slave compar'd with thee. afford him matter enough never to be idle, though without business; and never to be melancholy, though without sin or vanity.
MARTIAL, Lib. II. Ep. lxviii. I shall conclude this tedious discourse with a prayer of mine in a copy of Latin verses, of which
Quod te nomine ? &c. I remember no other part ; and (pour faire bonne bouche) with some other verses upon the Taat I do you with humble bows no more, same subject :
And danger of my naked head, adore; .
That I, who “ Lord and master,” cry'd erewhile, Magne Deus, quod ad has vitæ brevis attinet Salute you, in a new and different style, horas, e
By your own name, a scandal to you now; Da mihi, da panem libertatemque, nec ultrà | Think not that I forget myself or you: Sollicitas effundo preces : si quid datur ultrà, By loss of all things, by all others sought, Accipiam gratus ; si non, contentus abibo. This freedom, and the freeman's hat, is bought.
A lord and master no man wants, but he
Who o'er himself has no authority;
And follies, without which lords cannot live. s Hor. 2 Sat. vii. 83.
If thou from fortune dost no 'servant crave, ! Virg. Georg, üi. 7.
Believe it, thou no master need'st to have.
Who keep your primitive powers and rights so
Of all material lives the highest place FREEDOM with Virtue takes her seat; To you is justly given; her proper place, her only scene,
And ways and walks the nearest Heaven. Is in the golden mean,
Whilst wretched we, yet vain and proud, think fit She lives not with the poor nor with the great. To boast, that we look up to it. The wings of those Necessity has clipt,
Ev'n to the universal tyrant, Love, And they 're in Fortune's bridewell whipt
You homage pay but once a year: To the laborious task of bread;
None so degenerous and unbirdly prove, These are by various tyrants captive led.
As his perpetual yoke to bear; Now wild Ambition with imperious force
None, but a few unhappy household fowl, Rides, reins, and spurs, them like th' unruly Whom human lordship does control: horse ;
Who from their birth corrupted were
Like toilsome oxen to the plough;
Now will I sleep, now eat, now sit, now walk, From these insulting passions free,
Now meditate alone, now with acquaintance talk; Yet we ev'n those, too, fetter'd see
This I will do, here I will stay,
Or, if my fancy call me away,
(For we, before, have nothing to provide,
Nor, after, are to render an account) These are the small uneasy things
To Dover, Berwick, or the Cornish mount, Which about greatness still are found,
If thou but a short journey take, And rather it molest than wound:
As if thy last thou wert to make, Like gnats, which too much heat of summer Business must be dispatch'd, ere thou canst part, brings ;
Nor canst thou stir, unless there be But cares do swarm there, too, and those have
A hundred horse and men to wait on thee, As, when the honey aoes too open lie, (stings:
And many a mule and many a cart; A thousand wasps about it fly:
What an unwieldly man thou art ! Nor will the master ev'n to share admit;
The Rhodian Colossus so The master stands aloof, and dares not taste of A journey, too, might go. it.
Where honour,or where conscience, does not bind, 'Tis morning; well; I fain would yet sleep on; Nor other law shall shackle me; You cannot now, you must be gone
Slave to myself I will not be, To court, or to the noisy hall :
Nor shall my future actions be confin'd Besides, the rooms without are crowded all;
By my own present mind. The stream of business does begin,
Who by resolves and vows engag'd does stand And a spring-tide of clients is come in.
For days, that yet belong to Fate, Ah cruel guards, which this poor prisoner keep! | Does, like an unthrift, mortgage his estate, Will they not suffer him to sleep?
Before it falls into his hand : Make an escape ; out at the postern flee,
The bondman of the cloister so, And get some blessed hours of liberty :
All that he does receive does always owe; With a few friends, and a few dishes, dine,
And still, as time comes in, it goes away And much of mirth and moderate wine.
Not to enjoy, but debts to pay. To thy bent mind some relaxation give,
Unhappy slave, and pupil to a bell, And steal one day out of thy life to live.
Which his hours-work, as well as hours, does tell ! Oh happy man (he cries) to whom kind Heaven Unhappy, till the last, the kind releasing knell. Has such a freedom always given !
If life should a well-order'd poem be, Why, mighty madman, what should hinder thee
(In which he only hits the white From being every day as free?
Who joins true profit with the best delight)
The more heroic strajn let others take, In all the free born nations of the air,
Mine the Pindaric way I'll makes [free, Never did bird a spirit so mean and sordid bear, The matter shall be grave, the numbers loose and As to exchange his native liberty
It shall not keep one settled pace of time, Of soaring boldly up into the sky,
In the same tune it shall not always chime, His liberty to sing, to perch, or fiy.
Nor shall each day just to his neighbour rhyme; When, and wherever he thought good,
A thousand liberties it shall dispense, And all his innocent pleasures of the wood,
And yet shall manage all without offence For a more plentiful or constant food.
Or to the sweetness of the sound, or greatness of Nor ever did ambitious rage
the sense; Make him into a painted cage,
Nor shall it never from one subject start, Or the false forest of a well-hung room,
Nor seek transitions to depart, For honour, and preferment, come.
Nor its set way o'er stiles and bridges make, Wow, blessings on you all, ye heroic race,
Nor through lanes a compass take,
As if it fear'd some trespass to commit.
| Tu mihi curarum requies, tu nocte vel atra When the wide air 's a road for it,
Lumen, & in solis tu mihi turba locis ?.
With thee for ever I in woods could rest,
Where never human foot the ground has prest, As if his generous hunger understood
Thou from all shades the darkness canst exclude, That he can never want plenty of food,
And from a desert banish solitude.
And yet our dear self is so wearisome to us, that To kites, and meaner birds, he leaves the mangled we can scarcely support its conversation for an prey.
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 humour 3: OF SOLITUDE.
Odi, & amo: quare id faciam fortasse requiris, NUNQUAM minus solus, quam cum solis, is now
Nescio; sed fieri sentio, & excrucior. become a very vulgar saying. Every man, and almost every boy, for these seventeen hun
I hate, and yet I love thee too; dred years, has had it in his mouth. But it was
How can that be? I know not how ; at first spoken by the excellent Scipio, who was
Only that so it is I know; without question a most eloquent and witty per
And feel with tortent that 'tis so. son, as well as the most wise, most worthy, most happy, and the greatest of all mankind. His
It is a deplorable condition, this, and drives a meaning, no doubt, was this, that he found more man sometimes to pitiful shifts, in seeking how satisfaction to his mind, and more improvement
mprovement to avoid himself. of it, by solitude than by company; and, to The truth of the matter is, that neither he show that he spoke nut this loosely or out of va- | who is a fop in the world, is a fit man to be alone; nity, after he had made Rome mistress of almost nor he who has set his heart much upon the world, the whole world, he retired himself from it by a though he have never so much understanding;
exile, and at a private house, in the so that solitude can be well fitted, and sit right, middle of a wood, near Linternum', passed the but upon a very few persons. They must hare remainder of his glorious life no less gloriously.
enough knowledge of the world to see the vanity This house Seneca went to see so long after with
of it, and enough virtuc to despise all vanity; if great veneration; and, among other things, de- the mind be possessed with any lust or passions, acribes his baths to have been of so incan a struc
a man had better be in a fair, than in a wood ture, that now, says he, the basest of the peo- | alone. They may, like petty thieves, cheat us ple would despise them, and cry out, “ Poor
perhaps, and pick our pockets, in the midst of Scipio understood not how to live.” What an au
company; but, like robbers, they use to strip thority is here for the credit of retreat! and lrappy
and biud, or murder us, when they catch us bad it been for Hannibal, if adversity could have
alone. This is but to retreat from men, and fall taught him as much wisdom as was learnt by
into the hands of devils. It is like the punishScipio from the highest prosperities. This would
ment of parricides among the Romans, to be de no wonder, if it were as truly as it is colourably
sowed into a bag, with an ape, a duz, and a and wittily said by Monsieur de Montagne,
serpent. “ That ambition itself might teach us to love soli
The first work therefore that a man must do, tude; there is nothing does so much hate to have
to make himself capable of the good of solitude, companions.” It is true, it loves to have its el
is, the very cradication of all lusts; for how is it bows free, it detests to have company on either
possible for a man to enjoy himself, while his afside; but it delights above all things in a train
fections are tied to things without himself? In the behind, aye, and ushers too before it. But the
second place, he must learn the heart and get the greatest part of men aje so far from the opinion
habit of thinking; for this too, no less than wellof that noble Roman, that if they chance at any
speaking, depends upon much practice ; and cotime to be without company, they are like a be
gitation is the thing which distinguishes the soli. calmed ship; they never move but by the wind of
tude of a god from a wild beast. Now because other men's breath, and have no oars of their own
the soul of man is not by its own nature or obserto steer withal. It is very fantastical and contra
vation furnished with sufficient materials to work dictory in human nature, that men should love
upon, it it is necessary for it to have continual rethemselves above all the rest of the world, and
course to learning and books for fresh supplies, yet never endure to be with themselves. When
so that the solitary life will grow indigent, and they are in love with a mistress, all other persons
be ready to starve, without them; but if once we are importunate and burthensome to them.
be thoroughly engaged in the love of letters, inTecum vivere amem, tecum obcam lubens,
stead of being wearied with the length of any day, they would live and die with her alone.
we shall only complain of the shortness of our
whole life, Sic ego secretis possum bene vivere sylvis, Quà mulla humano sit via trita pede.
* 4 Tibull. xiji. 9. . • Seneca Epist. lxxxvi.
a De amore suo, lxxxjise
vita, stulto longa, sapienti brevis 4!
With all their wanton boughs dispute,
And the more tunefulbirds to both replying, O life, long to the fool, short to the wise!
Nor be myself, too, mute,
The first minister of state has not so much A silver stream shall roll his waters near, business in public, as a wise man has in Gilt with the Sun-beams here and there ; private : if the one have little leisure to be On whose enamellid bank I'll walk, alone, the other has less leisure to be in com- | And see how prettily they smile, and hear pany ; the one has but part of the affairs of one
How prettily they talk. nation, the other all the works of God and nature, under his consideration. There is no Ah wretched and too solitary he, saying shocks me so much as that which I hear Who loves not his own company; very often, “That a man does not know how to He'll feel the weight of 't many a day, pass his time.” It would have been but ill-spoken | Unless he call in sin or vanity by Methusalem in the nine hundred sixty-ninth To help to bear't away. year of his life ; so far it is from us, who have not time enough to attain to the utmost perfection | Oh Solitude, first state of human-kind ! of any part of any science, to have cause to com Which blest remain'd, till man did find plain that we are forced to be idle for want of work. Ev'n his own helper's company. But this, you will say, is work only for the learn- | As soon as two alas ! together join'd, ed; others are not capable either of the employ- The serpent made up three. ments or divertisements that arrive from letters. I know they are not; and therefore cannot much Tho' God himself, through countless ages, thee recommend solitude to a man totally illiterate. His sole companion chose to be, But, if any inan be so unlearned, as to want en Thee, sacred Solitude, alone, tertainment of the little intervals of accidental | Before the branchy head of number's tree solitude, which frequently occur in almost all Sprang from the trunk of one. conditions (except the very meanest of the people, who have business enough in the necessary | Thou (tho' men think thine an unactive part) provisions for life), it is truly a great shame both Dost, break and time th' unruly heart, to his parents and himself; for a very small por Which else would know no settled pace, tion of any ingenious art will stop up all those | Making it move, well-manag'd by thy art, gaps of our time: either music, or painting, or
With swiftness and with grace, designing, or chymistry, or history, or gardening, or twenty other things, will do it usefully and Thou the faint beams of reason's scatter'd light pleasantly; and if he happen to set his affections
Dost, like a burning-glass, unite; upon poetry (which I do not advise him too im
Dost multiply the feeble heat, moderately), that will over-doit ; no wood will | And fortify the strength, till thou dost bright be thick enough to hide him from the importuni
And noble fires beget. ties of company or business, which would abstract þim from his beloved.
Whilst this hard truth I teach, methinks, I see
The monster London laugh at me; - O qui me gelidis in vallibus Hæmi
I should at thee too, foolish city! Sistat, & ingenti ramorum protegat umbrâs?
If it were fit to laugh at misery;
But thy estate I pity. Hail, old patrician trees, so great and good!
Let but thy wicked men from out thee go, Hail, ye plebeian under-wood !
And all the fools that crowd thee so, Where the poetic birds rejoice,
Even thou who dost thy millions boast,
A village less than Islington wilt grow,
A solitude almost,
Ye country-houses, and retreat,
Which all the happy gods so love,
Nam neque divitibus contingunt gaudia solis ; Here Nature does a house for me erect,
Nec vixit malè, qui natus moriensque fefel
lit 6. Nature the wisest architect, Who those fond artists does despise
God made not pleasures only for the rich; That can the fair and living trees neglect;
Nor have those men without their share too liv'd, Yet the dead timber prize.
Who both in life and death the world deceiv'd. Here let me, careless and unthoughtful lying, This seems a strange sentence, thus literally Hear the soft winds, above me flying,
translated, and looks as if it were in vindication af
the men of business (for who else can deceive the 4"0) vita, misero longa, felici brevis !" s Virg. Georg. ii. 489. .
Hor, 1 Ep. xvii. 9. VOL. VII.