The Art of Living Incognito.
LETTER 1.
Of Living Incognito.
I Acquainted you p. 433. in the account I sent of my Conversation, in Ireland, that I was contriving a Correspondence with your Ladiship which I'd call the The Art of Living Incognito; for, as others Squander away their Time in Publick Hurries, and in rambling from one Vanity to another; I chuse rather to retire to a Solitary Village (Blest with a Neighbouring Grove, a Purling-Stream, two Cuckoos, and one Nightingale) and here under the Covert of a spreading Tree, I intend to devote the remaining part of my Time, To study my self; (for as Cowley says, The Voyage Life is longest made at home) but more especially the works of Creation and Providence, &c. And this on purpose to Correct, and Confess the Errors of my past Life; which if I do, 'twill evidently appear, Bene qui latuit bene vixit, he hath liv'd well, who hath lain well (or so) hidden; and therefore I call this Retreat the Art of living Incognito, so few Persons devoting the latter part of their Time to write and publish the Errors of the former.
But let others Act as they please, I ever thought it dangerous for a Man to Dye in a hurry; Men involved in Trade cannot so soon prepare for a better State, as Men retired from the World may▪ I have ever pitied those Men, whose necess [...]ous Employment, and Fortune hath put them under an obligation of making even See the Guardians Instruction. P. 5. at one time, the Accounts of this World and the next; I therefore resolve to narrow my thoughts, and take the advantage which Exp [...]rience gives, of thinking strictly, and reviewing my Life, and being freed from fancy (which cheated me in my Younger Years) to consider how far the Rules I have gone by, how specious soever to others, and pleasant to my self, may be consistent with a severe expectation of an Account above, where Pleasure, Interest, and Passion must disappear. For this reason I'm now retir'd to a private Cell, for 'tis only here, I can shape a true measure of my self; [Page 2] learn the contempt of what hitherto I have admired; humble my Soul for my many failings, and warm my Devotions by the expectation of a wiser and better State.
Madam, This is a large Province I'm entring upon, yet I shall tye my self to no method, any further than making every Letter a distinct Subject; but shall be very glad if now and then you'll propose a Subject your self: For the Character you writ of your self, your Essay on Friendship, and on the Miseries of Human Life, &c. are so very instructive, that I desire they may come into our first Part (for the Project will be 200 in all) and I'll Answer 'em as so many Letters; and if Variety has a Charm in it, I hope we shall please some Body. I know an Undertaking of this Nature, is liable to Cavils, and there are a sort of Men in the World, who love to shew their wit in making Exception against every thing but the Product of their own Brain, and therefore their Objections are not to be regarded; however I'll endeavour to Treat of Subjects that are most Surprizing; and what I Write, shall be still submited to your Censure, and Publisht with this Title, viz.
The Art of Living Incognito: Being a thousand Letters (on as many uncommon Subjects) Written by John Dunton during his Retreat from the World, and sent to that Honourable Lady to whom he address'd his Conversation in Ireland, with her Answer to each Letter.
Madam,
I have here given ye a clear Idea of my Art of Living Incognito, and what I design by it, and if the Subjects I intend to chuse, have Magick enough in 'em to procure your Remarks, I shall think my self highly Honour'd, not only as I shall thereby think I am continued in your, Friendship, but as you're able to rectifye all my Errors, which doubtless (in so large an Undertaking) will be very many; however I'll venture to tell ye my Naked Thoughts on ev'ry Subject I Treat of. And my first shall be,
Of Living Incognito.
The Art of Living Incognito is of great Antiquity; 'twas first Practic'd in Paradice; Adam and Eve even there hid themselves amongst the Trees Gen. 3. 8. of the Garden: And if we look further into Scripture, we see Moses in the Mount, and with the People, with a different face; open to God, veil'd to them. God wou'd not always have us shew our brightness to the world, in some Cases he loves our Talent in a Napkin, lapt up, and hid; and therefore, tho' Iohn Dunton (in Anagram) is Hid unto none, yet I'll attempt to live [Page 3] hid unto all; and my comfort is, tho' I live ne'er so Private, he knows me, that will (if I serve him) bring me Heaven; others, if they commend me, there's all; and it may be to my cost: So I'll fly all Company, for, why shou'd I lose Heaven for good words? So much for the Old Testament; (as to living Incognito.) And if we [...] [...]ok into the New, we shall find the End of all our Saviours Miracles, for the most part was, See you tell no Man: It is one Lesson, even in Religion it self, not to be seen; and yet not precisely, not to be seen, but not therefore to do well, to be seen; our commendations must be to do, and not say; or if we say any thing, say we are unprofitable Servants; so that living Incognito, is not only a Duty (in some Cases) but has many Blessings attend it. And further to recommend it to our Practice, Dr. Fuller tells us 'twas an ART learnt, in the first Century; Retirement was in the Primitive Church, to save themselves from the heat of Persecution; they were now, (says Dr. Fuller) always alone, yet always in the Company of good Thoughts. King Agis one Day requested the Oracle of Apollo, to tell him who was the happiest Man in the World, who answer'd, One Aglaion, beknown of the Gods, and unknown of Men; and making search for him throughout all Greece, found at length that it was a poor Man in Arcadia, who 60 Years Old never went from home, keeping himself, with his only Labour in his Garden. Livy. Had King Agis asked me the same Question, I had answer'd to the same purpose; and therefore 'tis part of my Character, See the Account of my Conversation in Ireland P. 433. To love to be guess'd at, not known; and to see the World, unseen. Then
To Invite ye to it consider, nothing can carry ye so near to God and Heaven, as a voluntary Retreat from the World: The mind of Man, when disintangled from Riches, &c. can walk beyond the sight of the Eye, and tho' in a Cloud can lift us into Heaven while we live (tho' we liv'd in in a Dungeon) I know the hurry of Farewell to Dublin, p 119. Business is apt to ingross our thoughts: And therefore 'tis I'm come from behind the Counter. Instead of losing Time in a Shop, I do now in a Quiet Retreat, learn to despise the World. I think 'tis a Great Madness to be laying new foundations of Life, when I'm half way through it.
[Page 4] By living private, we shun a world of unfortunate Ingagements.—We have nothing to resist in a Cell, but a few wandring thoughts; nor nothing to seek after, but to be happy. There we are free from publick [...]ders and private Makebates, unenvy'd in every thing but happiness: And 'tis impossible to steal that from us, when we have nothing else to do, but to keep it. So that methinks in my Cell, I'm learning to live for my self as well as for other People. A learned Divine cou'd say to a Lady that asked him what Life was, That to live, is still to live with her, so I may say, That to live is ever to live Incognito. Methinks I had scarce a being till my Raven went to Roost; I mean, 'till it left the Hurries of Stocks-Market, for the solitude of [...]ewen street; and this was but the first step to Happiness neither; for tho' 'twas private, yet 'twas still in the City of London, which I've now left, that by living still more Incognito, I might live indeed; and having in this last Retreat met with a good Land Lady, we live like Adam and Eve in Paradice; She imploying her self in her Garden, and I in admiring where l've bin wandring all my Days; for I was never Great, nor Happy 'till now: Most Princes are of this opinion, or they'd never study to conceal themselves,—We see, even Ambassadors that represent the Persons of Kings, d'spatch their affairs Incognito. Nay, Emperors themselves think it makes 'em greater sometimes to appear unknown—The Great Czar of Muscovy first appeared in England in that manner: scarce a Gazet but tells of s [...]e Prince arriv'd Incognito: The Savoy Ambassador arriv'd so [...]sterday.
King Henry the Second, after his return fr [...] Conquering Ireland, both out of fondness, and for securing [...] Succession, he caus'd his Eldest Son Henry and his Wife Margaret, Daughter of the French King, to be solemnly Crown'd in his presence, at two several times; in the last of which, he for that Day liv'd Incognito; I mean for that Day he conceal'd his being King of England, by waiting as a Servant upon his Son, while he sate at the Table; which young Henry did litle regard, boasting, That his Father did not hereby dishon [...]ur himself, since he was only the Son of an Empress, whereas himself was Son both of a King and Queen: which Proud Speech mightily displeas'd his Father, who thought he had done his Son no small Honour by waiting on him, as a King Incognito.
The Story of King Iames the First, Riding to his Nobles behind a Miller, (who took him for a poor Farmer) is sufficiently known—Neither was Charles the 2d. less frequent in these Adventures: How often, drest in a mean habit, wou'd he straggle to a poor Cottage, to inquire, if the owner ever saw the King, and what he thought of his Goverment? (Madam) I suppose you have heard how his [Page 5] winding up the Iack, in a dirty Frock, saved his Life; and those that consider his preservation in an Oaken Tree, will own there is (if in any thing) An Art in living Incognito—And therefore I am so far from envying even Kings and Princes in their Pomp and Grandeur, that I pity 'em as Royal Slaves, or as Men that are never easy, but when now and then they retreat from the World, and conceal themselves for a Glimps of Happiness. So that I'm much happier in my present obscurity, than he that sits on a Throne, or that's galloping after the World, for these have scarce an hour they can call their own, (and that hour is fill'd with cares.) But,
Whoever (in this Retreat) sees my Rural Pipe, my Shady Grove, Hedge of Hony-Suckles. Fruitful Garden, Hive of Bees, and little-Cell, with my Contempt of Honours, Riches, Pleasures, &c. will own 'tis impossible I shou'd be Happier, except in Heaven, or in the Company of a kind Wife; and that my Retreat might want no Perfection,
If you ask me how I spend my time, in a Place where I'm seldom seen, and scarce known to a Dog or a Cat? I answer,—I begin the rising Day with Prayer, and spend the rest of the time either in writing tee ye, or reading the Port Royal (the Book you so [...] commend,) when I'm weary with this Exercise (for a little Change) [Page 6] I walk to St. Vincent's Rocks; here I sit for an Hour or so, blessing my self, that I'm clear of London; having left Honour to Mad-Men, and Riches to Knaves and Fools, I fall to laughing at both. But if I happen to be griev'd at any thing, (for Iris and Daphne can ne're be forgot) I tune my Distresses to the Widow'd Turtle, and she Records my Woes with her own; or if this fails to give me relief, I call to some Kind Eccho to help me to grieve the faster; or if I find no comfort in Tears, I need but think of you, and then be my sorrows what they will, I sit like Patience smiling at Grief, and fancy I am still Happy—So that if I live Incognito (and have but the use of my thoughts) I can ne're be wretched. I'm sure I reap more pleasure in my Retreat from the World, than the French Ladies do in the Streets of Paris. Or if it happens that I am weary of being alone (if he can be so, that enjoys himself) 'tis but Riding a Mile or two or at furthest to Southborrow-Grove, and I'm strait in the Meadows, 'mongst wholsom Girls making of Hay, and that's enjoyment enough for one that's afraid of Peticoats. When I'm tir'd with these sights, Itye my Horse to a Tree, and take a Nap under the Shade of it, and when the Cuckcoo awakes me (if I'm thirsty,)
In this manner do I spend my Solitude; and If I ben't wanting to my self, thus living Incognito might soon sit me for Heaven; for those Stars, which have least Circuit, are nearest the Pole; and Men who are least perplexed with Business, are commonly nearest to God; which sufficiently recommends a Life of retirement. Besides this, to live Incognito, is to follow the Example both of learned and Great Men. Lotharius the Emperor resign'd his Crown, and spent the remainder of his Life in a Solitary place. This way of living is so much esteemed by the Witts, that we find the Gardens of Adonis, Alcinous Hesperides, were Subjects for the finest Poets. The Pleasure Lucanus had in this World, was nothing else but a little Garden, and when he dyed he commanded his Grave to be made in it; and [Page 7] Dioclesian left his Empire to turn Gardiner, Even the Poet Cowley As I hinted in my Conversation in Ireland p. 365 that had known what Cities, Universities and Courts cou'd afford, broke through all the Intanglements of it, and which was harder, a vast Praise, and retired to a Solitary Cottage near Barn▪ Elms; where his Garden was his Pleasure, and he his own Gardiner—Timon of Athens was so given to solitariness, that he hated the company of all Men, and therefore was call'd Misanthropos; he used and employed all his skill to perswade his Country-men to shorten their Lives having set up Gibbets in a Field, which he bought for them that were dispos'd to Hang themselves. Plutarch. Fabius the Consul was so little for being known, that in 70 Years which he lived, departed not once from his Village of Regio to go to Messana, which was but two Miles off, by Water; and Apollonius Travel'd o'er three parts of the World to conser with ingenions Men, and being returned, he gave his Riches to his poor Kindred, and lived ever after a Solitary Life— Democritus plucked out his Eyes because the pleasures of this World shou'd not draw him from Contemplation.—St. Bernard got all his knowledge in the Woods and Fields.— Ierom forsook all the World to live Incognito;—Croesus after the Death of his Son, did the same, and so did Hiero a Tyrant of Syracuse.
Among Even the Mahometans there are many Vetaries they call D [...]rveeses, who relinquish the World, and spend all their Days following in solitude and retiredness, expecting a Recompence (as they say, and are very well content to suffer and wait for it) in that better Life. Those very sharp and very strict Penances, which many of this People for the present voluntarily undergo, far exceed all those the Romanists boast of; for instance, there are some who live alone upon the tops of Hills (which are clothed or covered with Trees, and stand remote from any Company) and there spend the whole time of their following lives in Contemplation, stirring not at all from the places they first six on, but ad requisita naturae, crying out continually in these or the like Expressions, Alla Achabar, &c. that is, God Almighty look upon me, I love thee, I love not the World, but I love thee, and I do all this for thy sake, look upon me, God Almighty.
These, after they thus retire, never suffer the Razor or Scissars to come again upon their Heads, and they let their Nails grow like unto Birds Claws, as it was written of Nebuchadnezzar. Dan. 4. When he was driven out from the society of men.
This People after their retirement, will chuse rather to famish, than to stir from their Cells: and therefore they are relieved by the Charity of others, who take care to send them some very [Page 8] mean Covering for their Bodies (for it must be such, otherwise they will not accept of it) when they stand in need thereof; and something for their bodily sustenance, which must be of their courser Food, otherwise they will not take it; and no more of that at one time, than what is sufficient for the present support of nature.
Neither is the Incognito Life of the famous Nostedamus less remarkable, than the affected solitude of the Derveeses, of which take the following account. Some Leagues from Aix (says the Author of the Historical Voyages) stands a Burrough, call'd Sallon where Nostredamus so Famous for his Predictions, was Born, and interr'd in the Church of the Francis [...]an Grey-Fryers, his Tomb being half withithe Church, and half without. The Monk that shewed it us (says, this Author) told us that Nostredamus himself had ordered it to be Erected after that manner: for that finding the World to be so corrupt as it is, he was desirous to leave it in singular manner. For that having rais'd his Tomb to Mans height, he caused himself to be enclos'd therein while he was living, after he had made Provision of Oil for his Lamp, Pens, Ink and Paper, and pronounced a Curse upon him, that shou'd open it before such a time, which by the Calculation of the Fryar, was to expire at the beginning of the Eighteenth Age. I cannot tell (says this Voyager) whether Nostredamus repented or no; but I am sure he was in an Ill condition, if he let his Lamp goe out before he had finished what he had to write. We also read that Hyginus, after he was made Bishop; took such a Fancy to Live Incognito, that he retir'd to a Cave, where he hid himself; 'twas here he writ an Epistle, touching God, and the Inearation of the Son of God.
But the Men are not Singular in their Love to a Private life, for we find some Ladies too, as well as the Men, have delighted to live Incognito—Elizabeth (commonly called Ioan-Cromwel) the Wife of Oliver Cromwel, chose rather to be a great Person Incognito (if you'l believe the Author of her Life) then to live in that State and Degree, which her Husbands Grandeur allow'd of. 'Tis true (says this Author) she kept one Coach, but to avoid Pomp, her Coachman served her for Caterer, Butler, Cup Bearer and Gentleman Usher—Her Daughter and She often went alone into the Country, and there See a further Account of her private Life in the Book called Elizabeth the Wife of the late Usurper. wou'd spend whole Days in riding in a Sequestred Caroach, so that she seem'd to affect the Seythian Fashion, who dwelt in Carts and Wagons, and have no other Habitations.—She was also the same Recluse in her Habit, rather Harnessing her [Page 9] self in the Defence of her Cloaths, than allowing her self the loose and open Bravery thereof; and her Hood, till her Face was seen in her Highnesses Glass, was [...]apt on like a Head Piece, without the Arr of [...]nsconcing and entrenching it double and single in Redoubts, and Horn works— In sine, she was Cap-a-pe like a Baggage Lady, and was out of her Element in her Vieinity to the Court and City: She never ca [...]'d to be seen, and was never easy but when she liv'd Inoogni'o And even of Animals, Some live a Solilitary Life, as the Hare the Pelican, and the Swan; the last of which is Merry at her Death.—So [...] the wisest both of Men and Bruits have still preferr'd a Private Life to a Publick; and the reason See my Irish Conversation. P. 365. why, a Private Life is preferable to all others, is, because the first Minister of State hath not so much Business in Publick, as a Wise Man hath in Private; the one hath but part of the affairs of one Nation, the other all the Works of God and Nature, under his consideration. And therefore 'twas, Scipio was never less alone, than when he had no Company. Tully when he was thought to be Idle, Studied most—And Mison the Philosopher (that he might Study himself) lived altogether a Solitary Life; when one by chance met him laughing to himself, and demanding the cause why he laughed having no Company? Answer'd. Even therefore do I laugh, because I have no Company with me. I might heap up Instances of this Nature, but here's enough to shew I ben't singular in desiring to live unknown; certainly, Madam, the pleasantest and most profitable condiition of Life is to live Incognito. This we find further verified in Charles V. Emperor of Germany; for after conquering Four Kingdoms, he resign'd up all his Pomp to other Hands, and betook himself to his Retirement; leaving this Testimony behind him, concerning the Life he spent in the little time of his retreat from the World, That the sincere study of the Christian Religion, had in it such Ioys and Sweetness as Courts were Strangers to. And to shew to the World that his resigning his Crown, was the result of Mature Thoughts, upon transferring his Kingdoms to his Son, he made this following Speech: Other Princes (says he) leave their Crowns to their Children only at the instant See a Book call'd Curia Politiae, p. 1. when they Dye; that is, when they are not fit to wear the Diadem any longer; but as for me, I was never willing that Death shoa'd make this Present to my Son, but rather that he shou'd receive and hold this Blessing from me; and as I was a means to make him live, so (before I Dyed) I wou'd be a means to make him reign, and thereby oblige him to me, more entirely. This Speech was no sooner ended, but he [Page 10] Retreated to a Private House at Bruxelles, and thence he descended to an humble Hermitage, where he liv'd about 3 Years, and died. Certainly 'tis as brave a thing to quit Crowns and Scepters as to gain and conquer'em; Tho' of the Two, I shou'd think 'tis easier to resign a Crown than to wear it; and therefore Queen Elizabeth was us'd to say, If any Man knew the weight of a Crown, hee'd not take it up, if it lay in his way. Certainly a Private Life is the most happy, as 'tis free'd from all Noise and Nonsence, from all envying, or being envyed. Besides, my Senses, in my Private Retreat, are feasted with the clear and genuine taste of their Objects, which are all Sophisticated in Courts and Cities. I now live where I can safely think my Hours away, and I am heartily sorry I did not Retreat sooner, for I'm weary of this Villanous World, and the Foolish Impertinences of my own Sex; a wretched Circle they move in of Vanity and Hurry. But now I am free'd from all, and nothing but the Smiles of Valeria my present Wife. (whose Sense as well as Sex, affords a more reasonable and Calmer Joy,) cou'd ever Reconcile me again to London. But why shou'd I despair of seeing her here? Fo [...] she is only for a Spiritual Friendship: And I do ass [...]re her, the Grove where I daily walk, is prophan'd by no unholy Love; and so very private, that 'tis hardly seen in a Year.
But I talk of Impossibilities! However; I'll Carve her Name on ev'ry Tree, and Dream of her ev'ry Night; yes, I will, Sabina; for Conjugal Love may be very Passionatè: Besides I don't retire from the World that my Thoughts might be idle, (for the Mind of Man is ever thinking) and if I must think of something, can it be better employed, then in thinking of her who shou'd Study to make me Good, and keep me Innocent?
Besides (Madam) a Private Retreat from the World is the only place, where to Practice your Good Advice, and to live to learn well how to Dye; so that I am better pleas'd with living Incognito, (if it does not abate your Friendship) than they that glitter in the Courts of Kings.—Thus (Sabina) have I bid the World good night, before my time to go to Bed; as 'twere on purpose to make a Tryal, of [Page 11] your Friendship; for all Men adore the Rising Sun, but few, or scarce any, have any Love for his Setting; however, this is my present Case, and I'm so well pleased with it,
But after all I can Write of a Private Life, perhaps you'll say, That Solitariness is a Trespass against the Nature of Man; and God, when he made all things, saw it was not good for Man to be alone.
To this I Answer,——cou'd Man have liv'd still in Innocence, and Women wou'd cease tempting, surely nothing had bin so good as a Female Companion, (for as to the Men, I have nothing to say to 'em,) but since Women have prov'd the Devil too, or rather worse, I think 'tis better to fly 'em all (all save the Dear Veria) as Ioseph did his tempting Mistess: Had our Grand-Mother Eve done so at first, She had not bin the Mother of so much Sin and Misery as she hath bin to her Posterity.—
I cou'd say more for Living Incognito (which is the Art I am now learning) but have tir'd you and my self too; so shall only add, Your Answer to this Letter is impatiently desired by,
The LADY's Answer to my first LETTER.
IF Living Incognito is an Art, 'tis of Nature's teaching; for 'tis very natural for those that are neither pleas'd with the World, nor the World with them, to retire from it; which was the case with the Primitive Christians: They liv'd amongst the Heathen, that had a very different sense of things from them; they could not speak their Thoughts, they were so generally disapproved and condemned; and being sensible their Habits of Vertue were yet but weak, not throughly confirm'd by Time and Experience, their Love and Zeal was only strong, which made 'em fly from the contagion of ill Example and Temptation, as well as from the fury of Persecution; which was made the easier, by that contempt they had for Riches, Honour and Pleasure: For I believe at first, neither Pride, Ambition, or Vain-glory, had the least share in so singular and remarkable a way of Living, as in Caves and Desarts, whatever it may have had since: But to prevent the imputing our safety to any care and contrivance of our own, we have seen that which was so innocently designed at first, in tract of time became the source of all the Superstition, with which the World hath since that time so much abounded. Could they have secured to themselves good Thoughts, as Dr. Fuller presum'd they always had, their Retreat must needs have been happy: But St. Jerome found it not so well; for in the midst of his macerating Mortifications, his Imagination brought him a Troop of beautiful Maids in a Dance, as he himself relates. Then what can stop the current of evil Thoughts, that follows us in solitude, notwithstanding all our care to get out of their reach?
That Man the Oracle pronounc'd happy, had that advantage of having always been a poor Gardiner, honestly imployed in getting his Living; so that he had no temptation to contest with, from without or within; and all the World is agreed upon the innocent pleasure a Garden gives; he was therefore certainly happy: But whether the happiest in the World, is a great question; since 'twas impossible for him to taste and understand his happiness so perfectly, as one that had experienc'd another way of Living, and whose Repentance for his pass'd Follies might equal his Innocence, and so exceed his Happiness.
[Page 13] I am no stranger to the Pleasures of the retired Life you invite to; I know and taste it to the full, 'tis what I have always courted ever since I was at my own dispose, and which I now am perfectly possessed of, and find in it all those advantages you mention of subliming ones Thoughts, and setting them above the World; sure all thinking Persons will study to disintangle themselves from those ensnaring Delights, as well as from the Cares and Troubles that attend 'em; to which Design, no Age ever gave so fair Advantage: For to love Pleasure and Conversation, at this time, and in this Town, is to dote upon Crimes and Folly and if a retreat from it, is Life, according to your estimation; 'tis Death to stay in it, according to mine. I wonder whether that Learned Divine you speak of, has the Art of answering all hard Questions, with the same Ease he answered that Lady; I wish I knew how she understood him; he seemed to me to question what is Life, to make answer a young Lady, by which I understand he meant his own Chief Good; he ought to have added, what was Life to the Lady.
I take the love of Liberty to be taught by Nature, and is that which occasions the Sallies Kings and Men of Quality make sometimes, for a little ease of the burthen their Place and Quality condemns to, whilst Incognito they taste the pleasure of Liberty, and may perceive all the Power, Honour and Riches, and all the Pleasures, the World studies for 'em, and heaps upon 'em; makes up a very imperfect Happiness; whilst all their Words and Actions are under such restraint; nay, their very Thoughts and Affections are tied to Rules and Reasons of State, not meerly for the discharge of their Place and Dignity, but to please others, that others may be pleased with their Greatness; all which is a violence to Nature, and could never be supported by any that had leisure to think; unles [...] by some great Mind, like our present King, that willingly sacrifice themselves and all that is dear to 'em, for the Blessing and Happiness of more Kingdoms than their own.
But 'tis enough for such ordinary Minds as yours and mine, to put our selves into a safe retreat, and after the Example of the finest Poets, the wisest Philosophers, the greatest Saints and Holy Fathers, learn to live with, and endure ones self; and to shew our selves as wise as those, that willingly undergo any thing for the purchase of Riches; we for the purchase of Time, as precious to the full, chuse to live Incognito, where Time is our own, and none either borrows or robs us of it; and the only place where we can redeem that Time we have lost or mispent. This were enough, bating the pleasure, to justifie the choice of Solitude; but the Testimony of a great and wise Emperor must not be slighted; his Mind look'd great, that could think nothing less than an [Page 14] Imperial Crown, a fit Present for his Son; yet could support it self without it: And what could look more nise, than in his Retirement, to set himself to the study of the Christian Religion, and so truly and experimentally declare the pleasure he found in it, to be that which Courts, and the great Pretenders to Pleasure, were strangers to; and if there needs any thing more to recommend it, 'tis that the Body may share in the Pleasures of this Retirement; while the Fancy and Imagination, and all other Senses, are entertain'd in Fields and Gardens, with more Innocent Objects, than in Courts and Cities.
I know not how your Living in a Private Retreat, to learn well how to Die, should lessen my Friendship; it rather qualifies you better to be my Friend: I have no other business in the World but to die, and 'tis only for that end I value Friendship, that one may mutually assist each other in this great [...]ork: Your Retirement from the World, does not lessen you in my esteem, therefore in no trial of my Friendship, but makes you more worthy of it.
Nor can I object against Solitude, because Man was at first made for Society: Since Man is now so fallen from his first Perfection, he is scarce a reasonable Creature, or sit Company for Brutes; and for Women, tho' aspiring to the excellency of Angels, are arrived no higher than to the state of Evil Spirits, to prove Tempters, the cause and occasion of all the wickedness the World abounds with, all which may well acquit us from the Laws of Society, and give us leave to make the best of so sad a Condition, and learn the Art of Living Incognito. I am,
LETTER II.
In Praise of Poverty.
MY Art of Living Incognito, having been honour'd with your Approbation, I am encourag'd to pursue my Project of writing on a Thousand Subjects; for this is to Live Incognito to good purpose, and to shew to the World how Solitude may be Improv'd. In this Undertaking (as I hinted in my first Letter) I shall tye my self to no Method, so think it needless to make an Apology that my Second Letter is a brief Essay
In Praise of Poverty.
Sir Walter Ranleigh, in a Letter to his Wife, after his Condemna [...]ion, hath these words, ‘If you can Live free from Want, care for no more, for the rest is but a Vanity.’ A little Meat sufficeth to nourish us, a poor Bed (without Rich Curtains) will serve to repose us, and a little Cottage may well defend us, both from the extremity of Heat, and bitterness of Cold. I cou'd wish with all my heart, that ev'ry man would set before the Eyes of his Understanding, the Two Principal Extremities of this Life, and that he would likewise consider, in what Poverty we are born, and depart again out of this World. Naked we first entred into this vain world, and naked must we again leave it: Is it not then a Stupendius Folly, knowing for certain that we are born very poor, and must also die without carrying any thing with us; to torment our selves so much for the Loss of our Goods? It is observed that there is this noble and magnanimous Spirit in the Eagle, that when she is in want, and greatly suffers hunger, that she scorns to pout, and make a noise, and a clamour, as other Birds will do, but rests her self satisfied, If I have it not now, I shall have it hereafter—
‘The greatest Misfortunes become tolerable in Time: the Sentiment we have of them is lost, and vanishes away. Poverty, Shame, Diseases, the Moral Essays Vol. 1. p. 27. loss of our being abandon'd by Friends, Parents, Children, gives us Blows whose smart lasts not long; the Agitation they give us, by degrees grows less, till it quite [...]ases:’ Nay, Zeno was wont to say, That the goods of the World did more hurt then good; which was the cause that made Crates the Thebane, passing one day from his countrey of Athens, to follow the studie of Philosophy, to throw all the Gold and Silver he had about him into the Sea, imagining, that Vertue and Riches could never consist together: Men of the Greatest Sence have generally dyed Poor: Valerius, Agrippa, &c. as also the good Aris [...]ides, dyed so poor, that they were fain by Alms to be buried.
I might also instance in Epaminondas, King of The [...]es, in whose Rich House and Palace was found but one poor Straw-bed, or base Mattress to put in his Inventory.
What, (says St. Chrysostom,) doth distinguish Angels from Men, but that they are not needy, as we are? And 'tis ever observ'd, that Mens Desires encrease with their Riches; and consequently, they that have most, are the most needy; and therefore the Poor, who have the least in the World, come nearest to Angels, and those are the furthest off, who need the most.—He who needs (says this Father in another place) many things, is a Slave to many things, is himself the Servant of his Servants, and depends more on them, than they on him—So that the encrease [Page 17] of worldly Goods and Honours, being but the Increase of our slavery and dependance, reduces us to a more real and effective misery.—What hath the Bravest of Mortals to glory in? Is it Greatness? Who can be Great on so small a Round as this Earth, and bounded with so short a course of Time? How like is that to Castles built in the Air, or to Giants, Model'd (for a Sport of Snow) which at the better Looks of the Sun, do melt away? But for all this (says the ambitious man) were I to chuse my Station, I'd be a King at least. ‘How full of Charms is it to imitate the Divine Original of Beings, to see whole Kingdoms Croutching to me, to be encompassed with bare Heads, where e're I go; to have the power of Exalting one, and Debasing another, of disposing of Life and Death; and, in short, to be an Earthly God?’
To this I answer, There appears to me a greater happiness in an unenvyed Cottage, than in the Noisy Crowds of Flatterers. Little does the Plebcian know how heavy a Crown weighs, how great the Trust is, and how hard to be managed; 'Tis the Court that's full of Ambition. Bribes, Treachery, &c. The Watch must be kept so strictly, that there's no time to act Vertuously. But in the retired Solitudes of Poverty, one Fourth of our Temptations are lost; the uneasiness of the Flesh, causes a search after the Quiet of the Mind. I mention'd in my last, Charles V. Dioclesian, and several others, who laid by their Scepters for Spades; and I might here tell you how happy the change was—
But 'twill be again objected, That the Rich have many Friends, but few (if any) caress the Poor. I shall therefore be thought to be half mad, to write thus in Praise of Poverty, which is Universally despised, but without any good Reason; for abundance of this World is a Clog to the Christian Pilgrim: With what difficulty do those that have Riches enter into the Kingdom of Heaven?—I hear Israel praying in Egypt, quarrelling in the Wilderness; when they were at their Brick-Kilns, they would be at their Devotion; and no sooner are they at ease, but they are wrangling for their Flesh Pots. I dare say, many a man had not been so wicked, if he had but been Poor. It is the saying of a Great Divine, That Solomon's Riches did him more hurt than his Wisdom did him good. Affliction and Want do that many times, which fair means cannot; Wealth, like Knowledge, puffs up, when Poverty makes men flock to Christ. 'Tis the Poor receive the Gospel; then how much better is Poverty than Riches, if it carries me to Heaven? Who wou'd not be a Lazarus for a Day, that he might sit in Abraham's Bosom for ever? Poverty is despis'd, but 'tis the best Physick: I know not whether Prosperity [Page 18] have lost, or Adversity recovered more: None prays so heartily for his daily Bread as he that wants it: Misery, like Ionah's Fish, sends them to their Prayers, that never thought of God under their Gourd. It is pity fair Weather shou'd do any harm: Yet it is often seen Riches makes many forget those Friends which Want wou'd make cro [...]h to.—But Man cannot be so much above Man, as that the difference should Legitimate his Scorn (Diogenes Tub was a poor House, and yet Alexander would come thither to talk with him.) Then how welcome should that State be which keeps us humble, and brings us acquainted with God? Who wou'd pursue the World, when Poverty makes us happy? Alas! Madam, This World is a Lyar, and he will find it so, that (like you and Philaret) does not retreat from it. But tho Men wou'd come to Heaven, yet they do not like this way; they like well of Lazarus in Abraham's Bosom, but not at Dives Door. But alas! Riches, like the Rose, are sweet, but prickly; the Honey doth not counter vail the Sting, they end in Vexation; and, like Iudas, while they Kiss, they Petray. Riches, like their Master, are full of Deceit, promise what they have not. How many have I seen in London, that by much Toil have gotten a vast Estate, that at last have envied the Quiet Rest and Merry Meals of their Labourers? Diogenes laying his money at his head, a Thief was very busie to steal it from him, which troubled him so much, that he could take no rest; so at last, rather than he would deprive himself of his sweet sleep, he threw it to him, saying, Take it to thee, thou Wretch, that I may take my Rest. And I think he was much in the right: My Companion in my present Solitude is much of Diogenes Temper, for he has parted with all he has, and is now (being P [...]or) happy in no bodies Opinion but his own. There is no True Rich Man but the Contented, nor truly Poor but the Cov [...]tous. If we can but make the best of our own, and think our selves well, even when others think not so, we are happy persons. Socrates passing through the Market, cries out, How much is here I do not need? Nature is content with little, Grace with less. Poverty lies in Opinion. The Characterizer of Mr. Pym, p. 4. tells us of a Noble Man, who once acted the Beggar's part in a Comedy, and ever after perswaded himself to be in his whole Life what he had Personated on the Stage for one hour.—So that 'tis clear, Opinion is the Rate of things. What is needful, is soon provided; and Enough is as good as a Feast. I am worth what I do not want. My Occasions being supplied with but 500. l. what could I do with more? I will not look at what I have, but what I deserve; and I shall never think my own [...]another's too much.
[Page 19] It is a greater Misery to desire Much, than to have No [...]ing. The Rich are ever envied, but (tho 'tis hard) 'tis safe to be contented with a little. Nay, were we so contented, we are happy with Nothing, or with a small Pitrance.
The Poor of B—r Village (where I now live) are as well pleased with their Hempen S [...]cks (for the Parish allows no better) as your fine Ladies, whose delicate Skins are covered with Lawn.—Contentation is a Blessing, not Wealth. True Riches consist not in having much, but in not desiring more. Some think they have not enough, if they have not all. Thus have I seen some Beasts, not knowing when they were well, burst with feeding.
Did not Diogenes well perceive this, being not illuminated with any other knowledge, than only that which Nature taught him: When he chose such a kind of life, which (I think) is unknown to no man, whereby he made himself equal, and fellow (as it were) with Fortune? Surely, his Estate was most happy, and yet had he neither Money, Possessions, Medows, Gardens, or Houses; neither would he that Alexander should bestow any on him. For, as the History noteth, Alexander came one day to behold him as a wonder, and said unto him, Diogenes, behold, I am ready to supply thy need, because I see thee Poor. Diogenes thus boldly answered him: I pray thee which of us two seemeth to be most indigent or needy? I, who have nothing but my Mantle and my Wallet, neither do desire any more; or thou, who not contented with thy Fathers Kingdom, dost offer thy self to so many dangers, only through desire thou hast to rule; and that desire is so great, as it seemeth the whole World will scarce content it? Certainly, whosoever judgeth the state of Diogenes unhappy; by like reason may repute himself most unhappy: perceiving the poor man to be pleased, and himself never satisfied: The things of this World, are in a manner but Apparitions; not so indeed: why then do we so labour to abound, and not rather to be content? But some Men are in such haste to be Rich, that they do not climb, but vault into Preferment at a Leap: I know not their sleight, I mistrust their quickness; few Men were ever Great and Good in an Instant; all the harm I wish these is, that their early rising do them no harm; but what does their Wealth signifie, seeing Earth is but our Road to Heaven, and Riches such mean [Page 20] things, that like High way Fruit, they are common to all—Besides, what will it profit a man to gain the whole world, and lose his Soul? I will grudge no Man Riches, if he has 'em (as most have) upon those Terms. It shall suffice me there is another World to come, and that mine (if I follow Sabina's Advice) shall begin when this is ended.—I will be content to want this for a while, that I may enjoy that other for ever. What is Dives the better to out shine Lazarus, and at last die and be damn'd? The good Man takes his God as he doth his Wife, for Richer for Poorer, in sickness and in health: We may not always judge of God's Favour by his Bounty; I am but a Novice in Religion, if I think I can be God's Son, and miserable. A Rich Court is a goodly sight, but he that looks up to Heaven, will not care for the World. All the Afflictions of this World cannot answer the Joys of that other. Then where is the Damage in being poor? For as Fortune is not my Landlady, so I fear not her displeasure; and, which still adds to the Happiness of a Poor Condition, if I posses nothing, my Account is the less. But to the Disgrace of Riches, 'tis hard in Prosperity for Men to remember themselves, and what they have received of God; we are apt to forget what we have been, when we are changed for the better. Pharoah's Butler hath forgot he was a Prisoner. It is too true that too many love God for their own sakes, either they are poor, and would be rais'd, or they are sick and wou'd be heal'd; and like Beggars, no sooner are they serv'd, but they are gone—I could tell ye (Madam) of a Miser worth Hundreds, that never did a Generous Act, but promis'd mighty things if he arriv'd to such an Estate. If I had his Wealth (as I am Heir to it) and do no more good, I shall add to my Condemnation, together with my Store: I will therefore study rather to use my little well, than to encrease it—God is therefore bountiful to us, that we might be so to others: He alone hath the true use of Wealth, that receives it only to disburse it.
Dionysius the Elder, entering into his Son's Lodging, and beholding there great store of Rich Jewels and Gold, said unto him, My Son, I did not give thee these Riches to use in this sort, but to impart them to thy Friends. But so few spend their Riches as they ought, that I think Poverty preferrable to Wealth; and the rather, as Poverty comes not from the East, nor from the West, but from God himself. He hath said to every Man, Rule thou hare, or work thou there, be this, or thus: Then why do Men grudge at their Wants, when it is not Chance, but Providence? It is less praise to be Rich, than to be able to despise the world; the less I [Page 21] have here, the more I have to come. No Lazarus would change states with that Dives, who if he might but live again, would be Lazarus to chuse: Then who'd make haste to be Rich? I hear Israel child, not for eating, but for laying up their Manna.—If Prosperity make me fond of Life, or afraid of dying, it had been better for me, if it had not been so well. 'Tis true, when Fortune smiles upon a Man, his Relations that shunn'd his Company when it frown'd upon him, flock to him again, as if he were come from a strange Country, to welcome him home; they now offer their Services, with a thousand Protestations of the sincerest Friendship to him, whom a little before they denied to have a drop of their Blood in his Veins. But tho the only thing Men are valued for, is their Money, yet a Moderate Fortune is the only thing to be wish'd and pray'd for in this World, lest we be either tempted to Wantonness, thro a too great Plenty; or pressed into Despair by the Sting of a pinching Necessity. I will pray therefore with Agur, Lord, give me neither Wealth nor Poverty, but a Mean; or if Wealth, Grace to employ it; If Poverty, Patience to endure it: If I'm Poor and Honest, I can ne [...]e be unhappy; for then God is my Father, the Angels are my fellows, Heaven is my Inheritance, and what can I ask more, save to be in that blessed place, where Riches have no Wings, and every Lazarut wears a Crown.—And as in Heaven the Poorest Man is a King, so on Earth they are so dear to God, that Solomon tells us, He that mocketh the Poor, reproacheth his Maker; and, which wou'd make one in love with Poverty, they that have least, are freest from Cares. The Poor are in no danger from Plots, or robbing— The moneyless Traveller can sing before a Thief; Neither is he that's as poor as Iob, in any danger of starying; for in most Churches they have that Respect for the Needy, that 'tis writ in Capital Letters, (as in Cripplegate Church)— Pray remember the Poor—And Heaven it self has taken that care of 'em, that in Cases of Wrong, Restitution must be made to the Poor, where the right Owner is dead; and to encourage the Rich to be Kind, nothing makes their Names shine so much as Charity.
Salvian saith, that Christ himself is Mendicorum maximus, the greatest Beggar in the world, as one that shareth in all his Saints necessities, and will never forget the charitable person. Cicero could say, That to be rich, is not to possess much, but to use much. And Seneca could rebuke them that so studied, to increase their wealth; that they forgot to use it. I have read of one Evagrius a rich man, that lying upon his Death-bed, being importuned by Synesius [Page 22] a pious Bishop; to give somthing to charitable uses, he yielded at last to give three hundred Pounds; but first took Bond of the Bishop that it should be repayed him in another world before he had been one day dead. He is said to have appeared to the Bishop, delivering in the Bond cancelled, as thereby acknowledging what was promised was made good, according to that promise.
What we give to the Poor, we secure from the Thief; but what we with hold from his Necessity, a Thief possesses. God's Exchequer is the Poor Man's Box; when we strike a Tally, he becomes our Debtor. Faelix the Fifth, being demanded, whether he kept any Hounds? he brought them that asked him to a place where a great company of poor people sate down together at Dinner, saying, Behold, these are my Hounds, which I feed daily, with the which I hope to hunt for the Kingdom of Heaven. St. Chrysostom was a rare Spokes-man for the Almighty's Box (such are the Poor) when he said, That God commanded Alms, not so much for the Poors sake, as the good of the Rich:—Another calls Charity to the Poor, An Art the most thriving of all Arts. Nay, the Almighty often maketh present payment (knowing how hardly he can get Credit from our Insidelity) and even in Temporals. Thy bread cast upon the Waters, maketh better than Fast India Voyages.—But if the Rich should be hard hearted, the Poor have Law on their side, and can force the Parish (where they were born) to keep 'em.—And if they happen to be Kin to Estates, and han't Moneys to claim their Right, yet they can sue in Forma-Pauperis; and if the Lawyers were honest, I don't see but the Poor are the most likely to carry the Day, as their Necessities plead, as well as the Lawyer, and the Justice of their Cause—Or if they are bauk'd in a Just Suit, the worst that can be said, is,— There goes a Poor (injur'd) Honest Man, which is more Honourable than to have it said,— There goes a Rich Knave. But suppose they had no Advocate, yet at worst they can beg for their daily Bread, and then when they sleep, Heaven is their Canopy, and Mother Earth their Pillow. Beggars, more than others, seem to be the peculiar Care of Providence. Then who'd be a King, when a Beggar Lives so well? or if all support for their bodies fail, to stand their ground, and look to Heaven for a handful of supply, speaks their Faith: At a Lions Den, or a fiery Furnace, not to turn our back, is a Commendation worthy a Prophet.—When our Saviour wou'd put to silence the distrusters of his Time, he points them to the Lillies of the Field, (not of the Garden; which are digg'd and dung'd) [Page 23] but of the Field, which have no Gardiner but the Sun, no watering Pots but the Clouds; and your Heavenly Father (says he) cloaths these.—Then who'd be afraid of Poverty, that has such a merciful Father to go to?—'Tis true, the Poor are Slaves to the Rich, and their words little regarded. We read of a Poor Wise Man, that by his Wisdom deliver'd a City; yet no Man remember'd that Poor Man. Yet this Text adds to the Honour of Poverty, as it makes it the Touchstone to try a Friend.— A Friend in need is a Friend indeed.—And there be some (tho very few) that have Souls brave enough to own a Friend in a Prison. A Friend loveth at all times, and Prov. 17. 17. a Brother is born for Adversity.——For my own share, (for I'le speak the Truth, tho to my own praise) I never lov'd a Friend the worse for being either poor, miserable, or See more to this effect in my Irish Conversation, p. despised.—
Thus have I made it out, (to the praise of Poverty) that Earth is a place of Penance, and that Brown Bread and the Gospel is 'Twas a saying of Pious Dod. good Fare. Earth is a place of Toil and Labour, and men go not to work in their best Cloaths. Men shou'd do well to furnish their Insides a little better, and let the Body shift. I never heard any man blamed for his Rags, but I hear it upbraided to one, that he went in Purple.—I might further add, to the Honour of Poverty, That the Saviour of the World was born in a Stable; and tho the Foxes had Holes, and the Birds of the Air had Nests, yet the Son of Man had not where to lay his Head. ‘ In the Poor we Moral Essays, Vol. 1, p. 145. Honour the Poverty of Iesus Christ, his Humilimility in those that are Humble, and his sufferances in the Afflicted.’
Thus (Madam) have I sent ye my Thoughts of Poverty which tho writ in a solitary Grove, yet have something in 'em that I hope will please ye; and if they do (tho my Notions are some of 'em New) no man will ever censure 'em; or if any presume to dislike what you approve of, I shall not value it, whilst you permit me the Honour of subscribing my self,
The LADY's Answer to my Second LETTER.
I Confess I have, as well as you, observed, that Poverty is much despised: I have known some Persons, tho Pretenders to Religion, speak with more Contempt of those they knew to be Poor, than of those that were by all detested for their Vices; yet I can't but think it worth ones w [...]le to be poor, were it only for the advantage of knowing ones self and others. A Friend is not known in Prosperity, nor can an Enemy be hid in Adversity. I never fail to set a mark upon those despisers of Poverty, as very blind and ignorant of the Blessings of the Gospel; Even many of them that are Teachers of it, have seem'd to over-look that great Lesson our Saviour teaches of dependance upon God, and the danger of Riches, upon the sole account of trusting to 'em. I own 'tis the best thing this World can pretend to, yet like it self as full of Cares, Troubles, and Vexations, and is given to the Children of this World as their Proper Portion; for they are capable of no better; and because God will be Debtor to none, those Corrupt and Imperfect Services they render him, shall be rewarded with such Corruptable and Imperfect Blessings as Riches can procure 'em.
There's hardly any instance can be given of their ever making any person more Religious and Devout, more indifferent, and wean'd from the World, more humble and resigned to God, both in obeying and suffering his Will. These are the Vertues attending Poverty, which are carefully entertain'd by all such as aspire to those Perfections.
All the Vertue Riches pretends to, is the making choice of some Persons, to bless, as they believe, with their Riches, when they die, and perhaps impart some of their Superfluity, while they Live, to some miserable people, whom they esteem so for being Poor, with intent to make 'em their slaves.
But whatever Usage the World gives one for being Poor, it matters not, nor lessens the Blessing at all: We set a greater value upon the World than it deserves, to rate ones happiness by their Esteem. But whether they will allow it or no, to bear Poverty as one ought, deserves Honour, and 'tis better to deserve it than to have it.
[Page 25] Not to be dejected with Poverty, and the Contempt it lies under, shews a Right Iudgment of the World, and the things of it, and speaks a Great Mind, supported with Nobler Objects; not so weak or Childish, to be uneasie in the want of Toys and Trifles; for so one may call all those Superfluities that are thought necessary to purchase Esteem and Respect in this vain world. God knows our True and Real Necessities, and never fails to furnish such as rely upon him; his Liberal hand makes all Rich whom he blesses: Even in Poverty, when he gives us Grace to seek the Kingdom of Heaven, that one Blessing adds all the rest; and what can give us better Means and Opportunity for that, then Poverty? For by cuting off all Excess, it makes us Wise, Moderate, and Sober; it brings us to Thinking and Consideration, &c. And then concludes in Humilation and Thankfulness, which God will do us the Honour to accept, and that Crowns all.
But such Advantages are rarely found in Riches, 'tis possible with God sometimes to make 'em Blessings; but with Men 'tis impossible, especially to those that seeks and desires 'em. But compare 'em both together in their worst Capacity, Riches does more mischief than Poverty; and 'tis only for the Love of Riches when Poverty does any mischief at all. So that I perfectly agree with you in your thoughts of Poverty, which I prefer much before Riches, both in their best and worst use And after Death, pray tell me what has the Rich to boast of more than the Poor? For Alexander seeing Diogenes tumbling among dead Bones, ask'd him what he sought? To whom the other answer'd, that which I cannot find, the difference between the Rich and the Poor. I am,
LETTER III.
Of the (Athenian) Itch.
I Might inform you how studious I have been from my Youth, and how curious to know more than's Reveal'd: But when I read what mighty things some men promise themselves, and what braggings and boastings when they have discover'd any thing; it makes me conclude, that God will never give a Blessing to such a violent pursuit after Knowledge, that will not keep within its bounds: Even Cutting for the Stone in the Kidneys, was once practic'd with good success, but is now, and ever since Gallen's [Page 26] Time, lost and forgotten; and the same thing we may say of other Curious Discoveries. But as fruitless as our Curiosity is, 'tis now become a general Distemper. For Dr. Wilde See his Poem on the New Parliament. says, ‘We all are seiz'd with the Athenian Itch.’ And in the Book call'd, The Visions of the Soul, P. 118. you have these words, ‘Mr. Dunton, and Mr. Smith, the Coffee-man, desire to know, whether there be any Cure for the Athenian Itch.’ I quote this Passage and Book, to shew there is such a Distemper (tho 'twas never mention'd by any Physitian.) Athenian Mercury, Vol. 1. Numb. 1. All Ages (as if Athens had been the Original) have been Curieus in their Enquiries; Curiosity it self is so much a part of Nature, that 'tis seldom laid aside till the whole Frame is dissolv'd: Yet some few recover; (of which I'm one Instance); for my Living Incognito has quite cur'd my Athenian Itch.
I mean that vain desire of knowing more then's reveal'd, which Saint Paul blames in the Athenians of old.)— Thou bringest Acts. 16. V. 20, 21, 22. certain strange things to our Ears, (said these Athenians to Paul,). We wou'd know therefore what these things mean.—These Athenians spent their Time in nothing else but in vain Disquisitions.—Paul seeing this, stood up in the midst of Mars-hill, and said, Ye Men of Athens, I perceive that in all things ye are too Superstitious, &c. I need say little to prove I'm cur'd of this Itch; my forsaking London, and all Company, plainly shews it.—Or if I was ne'er so curious, where cou'd I be Resolv'd? If now I'd be asking Questions, it must be of Solitary Groves, of speechless Birds, and a Poor Landlady, that scarce knows her Right Hand from her Left.—But it matters not; for when Athens had done answering Questions, there was a stop put to my Curiosity, and my Cell has so finish'd my Cure, that I now Itch after Nothing: I am well contented with knowing no more (relating either to this World, or the next) but what I can learn from— The Holy Bible,—The Port Royal,—and your Ingenious Letters. And seeing these limit my Curiosity, I may boldly write—
Of the Athenian Itch.—
The Athenian Itch is a catching Distemper; it is not only in one or two Houses, but it spreads every where. And 'tis observed, that as the bodily. Itch chiefly lies in the hands, (and therefore we usually say, our fingers itch to do such a thing) so the Athenian Itch chiefly affects the Ear; and 'tis no small Misfortune [Page 27] that this Mental Itch shou'd lie more in the Ears than in any other part of the Body.—For the Ears are the Doors of the Soul; without these we were but Artificial Creatures, Men only in shew: Hence we know, we discourse, we believe, we learn to speak to God, and hear God speak to us; without these we cou'd not speak, nor know, nor understand. In a word, by these (under God) we are what we are—Then e'nt it pity such useful Organs shou'd be defil'd with the Athenian Distemper? But so, it is, and I scarce know a Man but has itching Ears: I was pester'd with this Itch for 5 years my self, (witness the Athenian Mercury, which continued for that time); but being cured, I wou'd do my best to cure others, more especially those Nice Querists that my Athenian Mercury has any ways infected. But I undertake the Cure of these Men with small hopes of Success; for tho with common things Men are little affected, (while Moses doth only what the Magicians can, he is slighted), yet Men are taken with something that is not ordinary. All Samaria will run out to see a Man can tell them all that ever they did; and I doubt whether the Apostles drew not more after their Miracles, than their Doctrine; when they begin to heal, and cast out Devils once, Simon Magus will be one too: But this Athenian Itch is Destructive to Soul and Body; when Adam wou'd better his knowledge, he lost his dwelling in Paradise; and when those Builders of Babel wou'd mend their Dwelling they lost their knowledg. The Itch of finding the Philosophers Stone, or of being great, or pointed at, how many hath it undone? For my share, I will never more care to be, or to know that which I know shall repent me: What Honour is it to Iames the Second that he was once King? or to me (in my Private Cell) that I ha' once been Some-body? 'Tis clear that in some Cases, and some things, a Man may know too much. It is not good to be prying into the Privy Councels of God, St. Austin being asked what God did before he made the World, Answered, He was making a Hell for such Curious Inquirers.—Thus dealt Demaratus with a Curious and Importunate Fellow that had oftentimes asked of him, Who was the honestest man in Sparta? He that resembleth thee least, quoth he unto him.—The Answer also of an Egyptian was not unsitly made to one that sk'd him, What he carryed there folded? It is wrapt up (quoth he) because thou shouldest not know what it is? A vain Curiosity is hateful and greatly to be blamed in every one.—The Example of Socrates is very memorable, and to be imitated, who being demanded, What the World was? Answered, That since be had any Judgment, he gave himself to seek out the True Knowledge [Page 28] of Himself, which yet he cou'd never find—But so soon as he had attained thereunto, then he wou'd seek for other things that wou'd do him no Service or Pleasure.—And Aristotle burn'd with such a desire of Curiosity, in understanding the Causes of Natural Things, that because he cou'd not know and conceive the Cause and Nature of the Flowing and Ebbing of the Sea, flung himself into it. And I liny the Elder, whilst he was overcurious in searching out the Cause of the Burning Aetna, was burned therein—
There are others also no less hurtful, who have been such Curious Inquisitors of the Causes of all Natural Things, that through frivolous and unprofitable Questions, they have fallen into that Impiety, as to seek for another beginning of all things than God; whereupon this Proverb arose— Of Three Physicians, one Atheist.—
Neither are they less to be blamed, who hearken and enquire so curiously after other mens Faults and Imperfections. This Cariosity (says Plutarch) is commonly joyned wich Envy and Evil-speaking, and is by that Excellent Philosopher compared to Adultery, which may be called a Curious Enquiry after another Bodies pleasure. If there be any One Imperfection in a Stock or Kindred; if any Infamy, Fault, Error, or Evil Government in a House, it is the Delight of Curious Folks to learn that throughly, that they may sport themselves, and tell long Stories of them; by that means using their Memory for a Loathsome Register of other Mens Vices; and yet neither see or know any Fault of their own. And therefore Diogenes beholding one of his Scholars in a publick place, talking very earnestly with a Young Man that was thought to be Le [...]d, demanded what Talk they had? To whom the Scholar answered, That the other rehearsed unto him a Notable Trick of Youth, which his Brother had played the Night before. Then Diogenes said to them both, My will and pleasure is, that each of you have 40 Stripes with a Whip, within the Amphitheatre; thou (quoth he to his Scholar) for giving Ear unto him, and he for the Folly related; because a Philosopher deserves as much for hearkening to Folly recited, as doth the Vagabond that rehearseth it.—And certainly to shun all Curious Enquiry into others Imperfections, is the way more diligently to look into our own; but this is little consider'd; for as fatal as a Vain Curiosity has prov'd to Several, (as you'll hear anon).
There's nothing the Nature of Man is more desirous of, than Knowledge; he pursues it to a Fault, and will fly even to Hell it self to advance it.—I doubt whether some mens overboldness with the hidden things of God, have not made them an accursed thing to them; and pressing before their Time, or Leave, into the Holy of Holies, have barr'd themselves from ever coming thither at all. 'Tis true, God Almighty cou'd send one frow the Dead, to reveal to us those things we are so Curious to Know: But from God's Power, to argue 'tis his Will, is no good Logick in the School of Heaven: He does what e'r he pleases both in Heaven above, and in the Earth below; and what he pleases to reveal to us, we know; and what he has not so reveal'd, are Secrets lock'd up in his own Eternal Counsel, which 'tis a bold and presumptuous Curiosity for any Creature to Enquire into.—There is no doubt but he can make as many Worlds as there are Stars in Heaven, if it pleases him; but that he has done so, he has not yet reveal'd, nor is it therefore our Duty to enquire.—Why shou'd we call for Light, where God will have none, and make Windows into Heaven? I will admire God in Himself, and be content to know him no farther than in his Word. Where this Light leaves me, I will leave enquiring, and boast of my Ignorance. To be wise unto Sobriety, is an Excellent Rule, prescribed us by the Apostle; and the Reason (says (a) Mr. Turner) ‘is obvious enough to any Man of competent In his History of Providence. Sense and Brains; For Adam, by an affectation of Knowing more than was necessary, came to know more than was comfortable; and an insatiate Desire of Wisdom (adds this Author) is certainly a Symptom of the hereditary Disease derived to us from him.’
God hath set us bounds to all our Disquisitions, and if we do not keep within compass, we forfeit our Faculties, and expose our selves to all the Dangers; that are out of ken; whatever we do let us do prudently, and have a Regard to some good end: For whatsoever is more than this, is more than is Needful, Safe, or Honourable.—Surely no Man will doubt this, that observes what Divine Iudgments have faln upon some that wou'd ha' known more then they shou'd; I cou'd heap up Instances of this Nature, but shall only Relate the Judgments that befell the Curiosity of an Officer, that came to Mr. Perreauds▪ house.—Dr. Dee.—Mr. Kelly.—Iohn Faustus,—and a young man in London.—
I begin with the Officer—who was a Papist belonging to a Court of Justice.—This Man came out of Curiosity to Mr. Perreauds House, and hearing that the Devil fore-told future things there, and some Secrets, he wou'd needs Question him about many Matters; but Mr. Perreaud desired him to forbear, Representing to him both the Sin and the Danger of it: The Lawyer rejected his Counsel with Scorn, bidding him Teach his own Flock, and let him have the Government of himself; and so proceeded to propound several Questions to the Devil, as about absent Friends, Private Business, News, and State Affairs; unto all which the Devil answered him; and then added, Now, Sir, I have told you all that you have desired of me, I must tell you next what you demanded not, That at this very time, you are propounding these Questions to the Devil, such a Man, (whom he Named) is Debauching your Wife; and then he further disovered many secret and foul Practices of the Lawyer. Neither was this all; for in conclusion, the Devil told him, Now, Sir, let me correct you for being so bold as to Question with the Devil; you shou'd have taken the Ministers safe Counsel.—Then upon a sudden the whole Company saw the Lawyer drawn by the Arm into the midst of the Room, where the Devil whirled him about, and gave him many Turns, with great swiftness, touching the ground only with his Toe, and then threw him down upon the Floor with great violence; and being taken up, and carry'd to his house, he lay sick and distracted a long Ses the Narrative of the Devil of Mascon. time.
[Page 31] The Curiosity of Dr. Dee was also severely punish'd, This man was an Excellent Scholar, and Mathematician, of the University of Oxford; he was desirous of a great deal of Knowledge; (which was commendable enough) but making it his Prayer to God to make him wiser than the rest of Mankind, he was, by the Divine Judgment, given over to strong Delusions, and sadly impos'd upon by the Apparition of Evil Spirits, under the disguise of good Angels, who promis'd to help him to the Philosophers Stone; but never left him till they had drein'd him of what Wealth he had; so that he died very poor, and every way miserable. AllMen (adds my Author) may take warning by this Example, how they put themselves out of the protection of Almighty God, either by unlawful Wishes, or by seeking to Devils, Witches, Conjurers, Astrologers, Fortune-tellers, and Dr. M. Casaubon's Relat. of Dr. Dee's Actions with Spirits. Pr. the like.—
I shou'd next relate the Judgment that fell upon Edward Kelly, for prying too far. Secret things belong to God; and therefore (said one of the Fathers) where the Scripture has not a mouth to speak, we shou'd not have an Ear to hear; but this Curious Wretch forgetting this, Consults with the Devil; he'd rather go to Hell for Knowledge, than be ignorant of any thing.—
But see the Event of this Vain-Curiosity; for (Dr. Casaubon tells us, that) clambering over a Wall in his own house, in Prague, (which bears his Name to this day) he fell down from the Battlements, broke his Legs, and so bruised his Body, that he dyed in a few days.—
Then again there was Iohn Faustus must needs study the Black-Art, that he might Know more than others; and that he might ne'er be puzled with Nice Questions, 'tis said, he led about with him an Evil Spirit, in the likeness of a Dog, to consult with, as occasion offer'd. But for all his Familiar Devil, Divine Vengeance followed his Curiosity; for coming into an Inn in the Dukedome of Wittenburg, he sat very sad, and when his host demanded the cause thereof, he answered, that he wou'd not have him affrighted, if he heard a Noise, and shaking of the house that Night; which hapned according to his own Prediction; for in the Morning he was found dead by his bed-side, with his Neck wrung behind him, and the house where he lay beaten down VVanly, Hist. Man. to the ground.
[Page 32] Neither must I forget to mention the Bold Curiosity of that Young Man Mr. Baxter mentions.—There is (saith Mr. Baxter) now in London, a Youth, the Son of a very Godly Conforming Minister, who reading a Book of that Art called Conjuration, coming to the Words and Actions which that Book said wou'd cause the Devil to appear, was presently desirous to see him. He came (saith he) to me in Terror, having before opened his Case to a Parish Minister, and affirmed to me that the Devil had appeared to him, and solicited him with a Knife to cut his Throat; and told him he must do it suddenly, for he wou'd stay no longer. Mr. Baxter told him how safe he was, if he repented (of his Vain Curiosity), but never heard of him more.—
[...] might enlarge, but here be Instances enough to check our Vain Curiosity, and to shew how ill those Men succeed, that to be cured of the Athenian Itch, go to the Devil for Brimstone.—Sure I am, to give way to Vain Curiosities, will disquiet our Minds, but will never amend 'em.—Yet we have a wicked Custom in London, of Gentlemens studying the Controversies for Ornament, not taking them to Heart, nor handling them with that Reverence they ought; but Nice Points have never been my study: I ne'er put my Sickle into the Divines Harvest, but leave Disputations to those whom God hath marked for his Ministry: Or, suppose (which was never known) I shou'd Itch but Once to try how pleasing Sin wou'd be, yet at Adam's Price I shou'd buy this Painted Apple, and thereby lose that Paradice of Innocence, and sweet Serenity of Mind which before I enjoy'd; and therefore, that I may check this Curious Temper in others, as well as my self, when ever I meet with those that are too inquisitive, I never answer One of their Questions; for I have observed, that your Open Ears are Open Mouth'd, and they that are craving to hear, are apt to tell.
The Ambassadors of the King of Persia were at Athens invited to a Feast, whereat also Plutarch's Morals, p. 506. were present divers Philosophers, who to improve the Conversation, discoursed of many things both for and against; amongst whom was Zeno, who being observed to to sit Silent all the while, the Ambassadors pleasantly demanded what they should say of him to the King their Master: Nothing (said he) farther than this, That you saw at Athens an Old Man who knew how to hold his Tongue.—And Metellus, the Roman General, being once asked by a Young Centurion, what Design he had now in hand? He told him, That if [Page 33] he thought his own Shirt was privy to any part of his Counsel, he wou'd immediately pluck it off, and burn it.—That I may imitate these Grave Examples, I never desire to know much of another Man's Estate, nor impart much of my own.—Never any Man repented him of (being satisfied with plain Truths, and of) saying nothing.—
Then Sabina, weary not your self with Scruples, and Empty Niceties in Divinity, but leave them to the Learned Dens; for I have shewn, (in the Instance of Dr. Dee and others) that these would not be Ignorant of God's Secrets; as if it were a matter of nothing to be sav'd, unless we also know what God will have unknown.—For my own share, I think that sufficient which God hath thought enough for me to know▪ and do only seek to know what is just necessary to salvation, what that is, is couch't in a few words; Eccl. 12. v. 13. Fear God, and keep his Commandments, is the whole Du y of Man; and therefore King Iames was much in the right, when he told us, Disputations were the Scab of the Church: 'Tis Practical Divinity that must bring us to Heaven. When Dr. S—h and Dr. S—k have vented, and banded all their subti [...]ty, each against other, many Pious Men will judge it no other than a Witty Scolding.—
As Curious as our Wits are, which of 'em can tell me what my Soul is (except in Terms more dark than those by which I know it already) and how it acts in a separate State? Where's the Divine can unriddle the Doctrine o [...] the Trinity, Resurrection and Incarnation of the Son of God? He that is Just in his Dealings, and practices those plain Truths delivered by a Dod or a Preston, lives as if he out-knew our greatest Disputants.—The Iews proceeding this way, infinitely taketh me who as often as they fell upon any difficult place in Scripture, wou'd say,— We know that Elias will come, and tell us all things. But Dr. Brown has a better way of Resolving Doubts, and therefore I make his Religio Medici my Pocket-Companion.—The Physick he prescribes for the Athenian Itch, is a certain Cure, and which shews him a good Christian, (tho Physician to Charles 2.) he does not make the way to Heaven more difficult than it really is. But when I meet with Doubts, that neither he, nor the Divine, can decide I have recourse to this sure Decider of all Differences,— Dominus Dixit,—and that makes me easie; for my Cell has cur'd my Vain Curiosity, and I am satisfied with a Plain Trath.—
[Page 34] But these Busie Wits that Itch to propound Acute Questions, are fitly compared to the Sun in March, who then exhales Humours, but dissolves them not. Were their Positions only frivolous, they were more tolerable; but they commonly end in horrid Blasphemy.— Laurentius Valla hearing a Cardinal dispute sublimely of God. and his Subordinate Spirits, said to his. Companion, And I could produce too, such Keen Arguments against my Christ; but I spare so Great a Majesty.—And some of late years, whose Curiosity and Wit has not led to such Blasphemy, yet have been so Fool-hardy, as to presume to be more of the Cabinet Counsel of God Almighty, than the Angels themselves (by whose Ministry, some say, he created the World). These have pointed at the precise Time of the World's Dissolution; others have been so curious as to find out the Antient Place of Paradice, (there was lately a Book publisht on that Subject) and what sort of Fruit that was which Eve gave to her Husband. But these Curious Observations, like our small Watches, not one in an hundred goes true. And how shou'd they? for Man's proper place is the Earth; if he's raised up into the Air, he's disordered; in the Water he drowns, in the Fire he burns; the Spirit's place is the Body, which soaring above the Matter, afflicts and destroys it self.—When a Soul shall proceed in Matters of Religion by Politick Ways, and suffer it self to be pleased with Curiosity, which incessantly moveth it to draw the Curtain of Holy Mysteries, to see what passes in Heaven; such Spirits are Weak and Ignorant, since they fail in the first Rule of VVisdom, which discovereth to us, that it is an absolute Folly to be desirous to measure things Divine by the Rule of Sence and Humane Experience.—The Wit and Mind of Man, if it worketh upon Matter (which is the Contemplation of the Creatures of God) it worketh according to the Stuff, and is limited thereby: but if it worketh upon it self, as the Spider worketh upon his Web, then it is endless, and brings forth indeed Gobwebs of Learning, admirable for the fineness of the Thread, but of no substance nor profit.—Oh, Athenian Itch, to what daring Height does thy Disease carry Men! But, Uain Curiose, (with Sabina's leave) a word in thy Ear:
[Page 35] He that knows enough for Practice, and yet spends his time in search after more Knowledge; 'tis a labour and search like unto his, who not contented with a known and safe Ford, will presume to pass over the greatest River, in all parts, where he is ignorant of the depths; for so doth the one lose his Life, and the other his Understanding; even as that man, who not contenting himself with the abundant Light of the Sun-Beams, but seeking with his Eyes to pierce through the Brightness thereof, even unto the midst of the Circle of the Body, must questionless become blind; so falleth it out for the most part to those who go about too curiously to enquire after that which is not lawful to be known. We behold the Sun, and enjoy its Light as long as we look towards it but tenderly and circumspectly;—We warm our selves safely whilst we stand near the Fire, but if we seek to outface the one, or enter into the other, we forthwith become blind or burnt.—
In a word, 'tis ill dancing for Nimble Wits on the Precipices of Dangerous Doctrines; for tho they escape by their Agility, others (encouraged by their Examples) may be brought to destruction.—
To leave the Curiosity of our Town Wits and Conjurers, (those Iunior Devils, that wear the Impostor's Badge) I'le next visit the Philosopher; and his Curiosity is such, that he has no sooner read a Leaf in Seneca. but he'd be a Privy Counsellor to the Stars, a Member of the Athenian Society, a Resolver of all Questions. And now, Physicks and Metaphysicks, have at ye. Oh, how he loves to search into the Secrets of Nature! But which of 'em all can tell me the Longitude at Sea, or the Reason of the Flux and Reflux of that unquiet Element?—'Tis true, Cowley tells us, Philosophers are so very curious, that
Fye! fie! Cowley! Why do you bauter these Philosophers thus? For you're very sensible the more they know, the more Ignorant they know they are.—But now I think on't, Dissimulation is State Policy, and Poets set out themselves as Aristotle did his Books, not to be understood at first sight.—You must own, Mr. Cowley (tho you flat er these Virtuoso's) that even Diogenes, Crates, peer'd not far into the Secrets of Nature, and that our Modern Philosophers, such as Discartes, Legrand, &c. knew as little as they. Nay, there's the Royal Society (tho compos'd of the best, and most Knowing Men in the World) can't tell us why the Loadstone always turns to the North? Why a Lyon trembles at the sight of a Cock? Even the great Basil was puzled about the Body of a little Pismire. No, Madam, as Curious as the Philosophers are, they have not yet attained a perfect Understanding of the smallest Flower, See my Essay on knowing our friends in Heaven, p. 34. and why the Grass should rather be Green than Red? They'll affirm, That an Ague is Witchcraft, that Air is but Water rarified, that there's another World of Men and Creatures, with Cities and Towns in the Moon; That the Sun is lost; for it is but a Cleft in the Lower Heavens, through which the Light of the Highest shines.—Oh senseless Curiosity for Men to waste their Time in such i [...]lle Dreams: Or cou'd these Magi prove what they say, yet still they Live in the Dark; For what is all they know (by their most curious Searches) compar'd with what they know not?—They have, perhaps, Artificial Cunning, but how many Curiosities be framed by the least Creatures in Nature, unto which the Industry of the most Curious Virtuoso's doth not attain? But I'le leave 'em in a fond Pursuit of they know not what.
And next, step to the Chymist, to see how modest I shall find him.— Modest! he's more curious than the former, and to as little purpose.—He hath already melted many a fair Mannor, in Crucibles, and turn'd them into Smoak, and all to cure the Itch in his working Brain; he has near ruin'd himself and Family, yet grows more Curious at every new disappointment; he can't rest with the Wit he has so dearly bought.—No!—he will make Nature asham'd of her long Sleep; when Art, who is but a Step Dame, shall do more th [...] she, in her best Love to Mankind ever could. Oh brave Chymist! Well, sure Self-conceitedness [Page 37] is the Sin in Fashion: 'tis a hard matter not to think well of our selves: For He, (yes He!) can extract the Souls of all things by his Art, call all the Vertues and Miracles of the Sun into a Temperate Furnace, teach Dull Nature what her own Forces are.—He's sure there i [...] the Rich Peru,—the Golden Mines,—Great Solomon's Ophir.—But Solomon was sailing to it Three Years, yet he'll reach it in Three Months, ay, in Three Days; for he'll ne'er sleep till he has this Art of Angels, this Divine Secret (the Philosophers Stone); for he thinks it Tradition, comes not from Men, but Spirits. What a Mess of Vain Curiosity, (I might add) of utter Impossibility, i [...] this?. But no more than Ev'ry Chymia in London pretends to.—Yet surely to Alchimy this Right is due,—that it may be compared to the Husbandman, whereof Aesop makes the Fable, that when he died, told unto his Sons, that he had left unto them Gold buried under Ground in his Vineyard; and they digged all the Ground, and Gold they found none; but by reason of digging and stirring the Mold about the Ro [...]ts of their Vines, they had a good Vintage the Year following: So assuredly the search and stir to make Gold, hath brought to light a great number of good and useful Experiments, if Men cou'd be contented with 'em; but they are not; but wou'd still know more, that's their Sin: And it still finds 'em out, as is evident by the Punishment they always have in being disappointed of that Pearl they sold all they had to purchase.— Oh, Egregious Folly! for Men to spend their Moneys in such Idle Disquisitions. But some Men think nothing out of their Reach. I shall instance in those that built, or would have built, the Tower of Babel, whose Top might reach to Heaven: It is not likely they could be so simple, as to think really they should reach to Heaven by it; they might think they should be s [...]me what nearer perchance; and however, get a name among men in after Ages, that they that built such a Tower, were somewhat above men. But confusion was their reward.
And as to the Art of flying, I have no reason to be against it, if discoverable by humane industry; I have reap'd the pleasures of it in my dreams more then once; and I thought no pleasure comparable to it, though but in a dream. Yet I doubt it may have somewhat of the Babylonish presumption in the eyes of God; and that such high curiosities are so far from being useful, that they may be dangerous.—
Madam, I might go on in quest after Longitude, Diving Engines, the Perpetual Motion, and all Projectors, by what Name or Title soever dignifi'd or distinguish'd, but their Number's endless; so I'le search [Page 38] no longer, nor spend any more Time in such Vain Speculations, les [...] unawares I shou'd be guilty of that Vain Curiosity, which my Cell has cured; and that I ha'been all this while reprehending. Not but amongst the vast Numbers of Projectors, some of their Maggots have taken, yet I do say, the only valuable Projection that ever I met with, was that of the Penny-Post, invented by that Worthy and Ingenious Citizen Mr. Dockwra; and this I own, is of that use to the City of London, that he ought to be had in Everlasting Remembrance.
Thus have I briefly open'd the Nature of the Athenian Itch, (an Itch much worse than that of the Body) and prescribed the best Physick I know to cure it; and by the Blessing of God it may prove effectual. The only Men I dispair to cure, are the Poor Chymists, and the London-Projectors; and these will reap no benefit by these Prescriptions; but if they'll forsake their Idle Whimseys for Two Days, and come to my Private Cell; (yes, Gentlemen, a Private Cell; for 'twas my Cure) I'le direct 'em to something (a strong Gibbet, or a place in Bedlam) that may abate their Distemper; but a thorough Cure can't be expected; for their Athenian Itch is different from others; and is so much a part of their Souls, that 'tis odds if it does not follow 'em to the other World. Or if there be a possibility of their Cure on Earth, it must be by never leaving my Cell when they come to it, or by proving to 'em there's nothing New; f [...]r whilst they think there is, they'll be itching after it.— However, it has been a Blessing to me. But (to end with Cowley):
Madam—you see, be my Subject what it will, my Letters still, begin and end with my Private Cell; and indeed I'm so charm'd with Solitude, that I shall ne'er think my self Private enough till I'm said in my Grave, and covered with that Tomb-stone I've design'd for it, and shall describe hereafter. Besides, I came hither to learn— The Art of Living Incognito; and can I come [Page 39] to Perfection (in this Art) without making a daily progress, and catching at ev'ry thing that may forward me in it? By this you see how much I am,
The LADY's Answer to my Third LETTER.
'TIS very wellcome News to hear you have got so much good by your Living Incognito, as the Cure of such a Dangerous and Epidemical Disease. 'Twas a very proper Means you chose to seek your Cure in Retirement. We carry in our Natures the Cause of our Disease, and all we meet with in the World, serves to inflame it; for many things are the Cause of much Evil, but Pride is the cause of all, with which human nature is sufficiently furnish'd to produce Curiosity in Women, no less than Men; but because Beauty is the Perfection of Women, and gives 'em that Charming, Proud Title of the Fair Sex, their tkoughts are generally employ'd to maintain that Glory, with perpetual Recourse to Art, where Nature fails 'em. This is the ordininary Effect of Pride in Women, but a vain Curiosity very often carries 'em beyond the proper Glorys of their own Sex, they can undergo all the Fatigues of a strong robust Body in Military Employments, and any Masculine Exercises, meerly for the pleasure of sending Fame to her Trumpet, and making them the Subject of Discourse: But when they apply to Learning, 'tis purely the Pride of Curiosity inspires 'em; [...]or of what use is it to 'em, when they have i [...]? They charge themselves with an unnecessary Burthen they ought to be asham'd of, according to the Port Royal. But this shews they can think two thoughts, but not three: They think 'tis good to know what that Learning is Men make such boast of, and value themselves so much upon, and that the way must be by entering into such Studies as may inform 'em, and there they stop; for their thoughts reach not so [Page 40] far as the Consequence: They le [...] that shi [...] or it self; whatever it is. It can [...]'t fail to make 'em talk'd on, and that's enough
But Pride works Curiosity, as Naturally in Men, and with more advantage, because all Human Knowledge leads to it, and is supported by it: for more Studies are undertaken upon account of Curiosity, than or the usefulness of Knowledge, as appears in their deep search for Notions [...]nd Speculations, so New and Wbimsical, which are every day brought [...]o Ligh [...], with design to strike all the World with [...] of the [...]r great [...]bilities; and so it does, for som [...] admire 'em as Men of great Parts; and others aamire how Pride and Curiosity could find the way to ma [...]e such Fools of 'em. Religion receives no better usage from these Men of deep and curious Learning; they make it all Human Knowledge, and know no other use of it, but to distinguish 'em from the more illiterate and Heathenish part of the Wor [...]d, or to shew their Part, in Controversie against a [...]l Opinions in Religion, but their own. Nay, so [...]e are so kind as to make us a New Model of Religion, so plain and easie, there needs no Controversie at all about it. But this is to have Religion in the Head, not in the Heart; for there Humility lays the first Foundation: Knowledge puffeth up, but Charity edifieth, and teacheth us Humility: we are never right till then. Religion is not Knowledge, but Experience, the greatest Abaser of high thoughts. They mistake themselves that think by any Discourses, never so Acute, to inspire us with Religion; they may as well pretend to teach us, to hear, taste, or see. No: we shall all be taught of God, if we keep to his Order, and humbly submit to the Laws he has set us; his ways of teaching are Infinite, like himself. 'Tis he that teaches us in the Example of Doctor Dee, There's no reaching to Heaven by a Ladder of Pride, and that the deepest and most refined Human Learning brings us not to the true Knowledge of God, as he seem'd to insinuate in his Preface to Euclide: I pity him, and hope God found another way to teach him, then what he chose for himself when Transported with so great a Love to Knowledge.
The other Three were great Examples of Apostacy, and also those that seek to such to know their Fortunes, or use Charms, may be esteem'd so in a lower degree, because they do it with more ignorance and simplicity; it being a depraved and wicked Custom the World connives at, one can't imagin why. But the Constancy of the Poor Chymist's is much to be pity'd, who make themselves Martyrs to their own Conceitedness: We are taught Moderation by their example; for 'tis either excess of Riches, or excess of Glory, they pursue; and are nobly rewarded with excess of Poverty, and Contempt.
[Page 41] These are all dreadful Effects of that unhappy Disease, the Curiosity of our first Parents contracted and Transmitted to all their Posterity. If living Incognito, has taken away the Cause or the Effect, you have Reason to rejoyce in your own Happiness, and charitably to recommend it to others.
But tho Curiosity was never my Discease, as is seen in the Picture I make of my Self, (and which perhaps I may send you hereafter) I have had many of another sort; I can reckon up Seven: But by Living Incognito, they are much lessen'd if not quite c [...]ed. I am willing to take your charitable Example, discovering the Nature of the Diseases and their Remedies, which I can give you more at large if you know any Persons they may be useful to.
I had a quality of repenting of every thing I did that answer'd not my Expectation; but now I find to be happy, one must repent of nothing but sin.
I was troubled with an Importunate desire, of having all the Useless [...]nd Impertinent things that are thought necessary for our comfort and [...]upport in this Life; but now I know there's nothing can support and [...]omfort us, or is worth desiring but Gods Favour.
I us'd to have recourse in all my Disappointments to vain hopes; [...]nd when one design fell, I raised another, and still prop'd 'em up with [...]pe; which in the end I found so deceitful, I now renounce 'em all, [...]d hope for nothing but Heaven.
I have been often Transported with Ioy at what happen'd to my [...]lf and Friends, supposing it for our good; when the event has proved [...]ite contrary: This has shew'd me how weak our [...]ight and Judg [...]ents are; and to be sure to be in the right, is to rejoyce in nothing but [...]ods Glory.
I was much carried to the Love of Pleasure, tho it never gave me [...]ue Satisfaction; I never found the Pleasure I proposed so certain as [...]e pains that went to procuring it; so that I found it surest to take [...]leasure in nothing but the good success of ones Labour.
I have had very busie thoughts, and been much taken up, with study [...]g ways of exalting my self, and making a considerable figure in [...]e World, and now find by Experience they only are truly Conside [...]able, that study nothing but the good of others.
My want of Courage has Subjected me to many vain fears, which [...]ade me uneasie, but prevented no mischiefs; But I perceive a deceitful [...]eart the Source of all Evils, that now I fear nothing but my own [...]eceitful heart: Thus you see what is got by Living Incognito, 'tis there one finds both Health and Pleasure. I am,
LETTER IV.
Proving— There is nothing New under the Sun.
SInce you honour me so much to permit me to entertain you weekly, (or oftner) with Accounts of what Progress I make in— The Art of Living Incognito.—I shall be so free as to tell ye, I suppose you expect that part of this Art shou'd be discoveries of something New.—For Nature is so much pleased with diversity (as it seems a kind of Novelty,) that she hath imprinted a desire of it in all things here below. This I proved in my Essay on the Athenian Itch, which will never be quite cured till Men are possess'd There is nothing New; for whilst there is, they'l be Itching after it. Then seeing I told your Ladyship that my Art of Living Incognito wou'd consist of a Thousand uncommon (which looks as if my meaning was NEW Subjects); for fear you shou'd apprehend me in that sence, 'tis time now, that I tell ye that by Uncommon, I did not mean NEW, but only Subjects that were Curious, or very rarely handled.—No Madam, it had been a great Presumption in me to have pretended to any thing New, when Solomon tells us.—
And Dr. Winter adds, Nor in the Moon neither, (a Picture of this Mutable World) of whose encrease, tho we have every Year NEW Ones a full dozen, Yet all is but the Old One over and over. Even that which we call the New Year, is no more than the old one run out, and turn'd up again like an hour glass to run out, the same Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, Months and Days, as before.
The Sun returneth every morning to the same place he came from, with like form, and self-same substance—The Days and Nights pass by course, and ever continue of like Essence.—The Fields are every year deek'd with the same Flowers, like [Page] pleasant Herbs, and the very same Accidents yearly. Nothing is the Object of our Senses, but what is ordinary and familiar: We see nothing strange and New: what we do to day, that we do to morrow, and every day. What Men call a Discovery is a meer Banter upon our Understanding: For my Lord Bacon in his Book of Aphorisms proves, that which we call New and Upstart, to be the truest Antiquity.—And the Sage Common-wealth of the Lycians heretofore ordained, That all those who should propose any Novelty in matter of Law, should deliver it in publick with an Halter about their Necks, to the end, that if their Propositions were not found to be good and profitable, the Authors thereof should be strangled in the place.—The Antients held it ominous to pretend to any New Form, even of Matters of Indifferency. When Darius had altered the Fashion of his Sword, which used to be Persian, into the form of Macedonian, (in the year immediately before the fought with Alexander) the Chaldees, or South-sayers, prophesied, That into what Fashion Darius had altered his Sword, so Time wou'd reduce his State; and that the Persian Glory was drawing unto her last Period, by subjecting her self unto the Soveraign of Macedon: Which Prediction was soon confirm'd by the next years Conquest.— And as the Ancients held it ominous to pretend to any New Form, so 'tis as clear in the Instance I gave in the Sun, Moon, &c. and other parts of the Creation. That Thnigs here below seem NEW to many; and are so miscall'd; which in themselves are Old, and known so, to sounder Judgments.
'Tis true Mr. T——tells us (in his Treatise of Preexistence) that Philosophy it self had never been improved, had it not been for NEW Opinions. Nay, the very Mob (since the War with France) are turn'd Athenians too, and you can scarce meet a Porter in the Street, but he'll question ye,— What NEWS? And some take as much pleasure to spread (what they call) News, as others do to hear it. R. B. in his book of Extraordinary Adventures, tells us of a Barber, who kept Shop at the end of the Suburbs, call'd, Pyreum in Athens, he had no sooner heard of the great discomfiture of the Athenians in Sicily, from a certain Slave fled from thence out of the Field, but leaving his Shop at six and sevens, he ran directly into the City to carry the Tydings fresh and new,
Now upon reporting these unwellcome Tydings, there was a great stir within the City; the People assembled to the Market [Page 44] Place, search was made for the Author of this Rumor. Hereupon the Barber was haled before the Body of the People, and being examined hereof, he knew not so much as the Name of the Party from whom he had heard the News: Upon which, the whole Assembly were so moved to Anger, that they cryed, Away with the Villain, set the Rascal upon the Rack; have him to the Wheel, who had devised this Story of his own fingers ends.—The Wheel of Torture was brought, and the Barber was tormented upon it. In the mean while, there came certain News of that Defeat, and thereupon the Assembly broke up, leaving the Barber racked out at length upon the Wheel, till it was late in the Evening, at which time he was let loose; yet was no sooner at liberty, but he must enquire. News of the Executioner, what he had heard abroad of the General Nicias, and in what manner he was slain.—
So that Men have such a hankering after Novelties, that they'd even die to see something New; and this Itch after News, is become as General as 'tis Fallacious.—The Poor Taylor, that works in a Carret, can scarce forbear leaving his Goose, to run to a Coffee-house, to ask if the Pope be recovered? A constant Companion to this House, going in all haste for a Midwife, or to save the Life of a Friend was dying, must call in, and drink at least two Dishes of Coffee, and smoak his Pipe, that he may know how the World goes abroad, let it go how it will at home.— Oh what precious Time do the London Coffee-houses devour? and therefore, 'tis Dr. Wilde tells us,
But, by your leave Dr. you may be mistaken; for all are not born, or live in Athens, tho, (to their shame) most are sick of the Athenian Dise [...]se, in a desire to hear and seek News; which they never find: For, Doctor, I shall prove anon, there is no such thing; neither do they reflect upon what they hear; for they seek only News, for News sake, and make it their business to go to the Wits By Covent-Garden C ffee-house, to Dicks, to Ionathan's to Bridge's, to Ioe's, to Smith's, to pick up News, and then to report it to the next they meet, and to be sure it loses nothing by carrying.—But there are some that were never tainted with this Athenian Itch.—I have heard my Father often say, he never was at a Coffee-house in his whole Life. But he's the only Instance of that kind that I ever knew; yet I cant think him a New Instance; for doubtless there be Men of the same Principle. There be no Humane [Page] Actions that we see now a days, but what have been practised in times past: Yet I must own, that before the War, the Coffee-house was a place whither people only came, after Toping all day, to purchase at the expence of their last Penny, the Repute of Sober Companions (for Coffee is a Sober Liquor); but now they are the Congress of Rome, Venice, Spain, Geneva, Amsterdam, and are flockt to by all, as the Mint of Intelligence.—
The Coffee-house (where News is so much enquir'd for) is no better than a Nursery for training up the smaller Fry of Virtuosi, in confident tatling. But en't it strange that any shou'd be so mad as to run from Coffee house to Coffee-house, to pick up News, when in reality there is no such thing? For what has the Name of News, which (like the Athenians of old) they so Itch after, is no other (as my Poem shews) than newly augmented Lyes; Relations so [...]nd diversly, as the Air of Affection carries them, and sometimes in a whole Volley of News, we shall not find one true Report; and therefore 'twas the Advice of a Father to his Son, Let the greatest part of the News thou hearest, be the least part of what thou believest, lest the greatest part of what thou believest, be the least part of what is true: And where Lies are admitted for News, the Father of Lies will not easily be excluded.—Perhaps what they miscall News, may have some Ground of Truth for its beginning; but being tost from one to another, it is buried and lost in the multitude of New Additions, and there's nothing we can warrant for Pure News.——
But then you'll object, Those Additions are New. No: Madam, Terrence tells ye the contrary, by saying, Nihil est jam Dictum quod non Dictum sit Prius: Nothing is spoken now, but what has been said in former times: And that Philosopher Renaudots tells us—our very thoughts, tho they be innumerable yet if they were Registered, would be all found ancient.—Thento what purpose do we hunt for News? Tis'true those Papers that pretend to News, tell us sometimes of a Kings being beheaded (and what is King [Page 46] Iames's Abdication, but a Parallel Case?)—of an Earl's Cutting his own Throat, and then flinging the Razor out of the Window;—of the penitent Death of some great Lord;—of a Bloody Fight;—of a Lover hanging himself;—of a Virgin Ravisht;—of a Wise Alderman;—and now and then of a Woman C—ding her Husband, &c. But these (tho Real Truths) are no New Things, but what we have seen over and over.—Not but I must own, if there were a New Thing under the Sun, the Author of the Flying Post wou'd find it out: But he's an honest Gentleman, and writes nothing but Truth; and Truth is always the same; and if his Papers be always the same, what News can there be in them?—Or say, his Papers were all Invention (which comes neare [...]l to News, of any thing that is not so) yet still they were void of News; for Invention is nothing else (for the most part) but a Simple Imitation in Deeds or Words.—So that the Flying Post,—Post-Man—and Post-Boy, do Weekly labour in vain; for all their Pretence to News, is no better than an Old Design, to enrich the Bookseller, which I don't tell as a Piece of News; but as a thing acknowledg'd by ev'ry Hawker.—— But tho we are disappointed of News where we most expect it, yet whoever is troubled with Impertinent Fancies, or wou'd hear ridiculous Storie, [...]e need but step to the Coffee-house, and here the several Humors of the pretended News-mongers, is worth Remark.
One begins ye the Story of a Sea-Fight; and tho he never was so far as Wapping, yet having Pyrated the Names of Ships and Captains, he tells you Wonders; that he waded up to the middle in Blood on the Quarter-Deck, and never thought Serenade to his Mistress so charming as the Bullets Whistling; how he stopt a Man of War of the Enemies, under full Sail, till she was boarded with his Single Arm, instead of Grapling Irons; and then concludes with railing at the Conduct of some Great Officers (which he never heard of till last Week) and protests, had they taken his Advice, not a Soul had 'scap'd 'em.
He has no sooner done, but another begins Remarks—upon the London Gazette;—and here he nick-names the Spanish—Towns, &c. and enquires, whether Madrid and Barcelona be Turks or Saracens?—Stilo Novo; he interprets some Warlike Engin invented by the Duke of Savoy to confound Catinat;—and for Hungary, &c- he believes it to be a place where people are ready to starve.—Neither is any thing more common than to see one of these News Hunters spend half an hour in searching the Map for Counterscarp, and Brigadeer,—not [Page 47] doubting but to find them there, as well as Venice, Rome and Amsterdam, &c.
Another relates t'ye all the Counsels of the French Court; the German Diet, the Roman Conclave; and those of Portugal, Spain and China, are as well known to him as his right hand; and this Gibberish is list'ned to with as great attention as Orpheus's Beasts did to his charming Musick.—
Then a Fourth stands up, and (he pretending to be a Traveller) tells the Company, That in his late Voyage to Ophir (tho no body knows where 'tis) the Master of his Vessel, fill'd his Ship; with 300 Tun of Gold, in one night—This tickles the Auditors! so on he goes to tell 'em, that from thence he went to the Iubilee, from whence, (after Kissing the Pope's Toe) he went to Venice, to see the Carnival; and here he met with the Harlot Tom-Coryat Tom-Coryat gives a Pleasant Character of her in his Book, he entitles Crudities. marry'd, lay with her one Night, and Swares he thinks her a very demure peice of Impudence.—Being weary of Italy, (Perhaps) he tells us in the next Place he Travel'd to the Indies, (I have a Brother there, I hope he did not meet him) where he view'd the Chambers of the Rising Sun, learnt the number of his Horses, and their several Names— His Eyes being not yet satisfied, he Rambles next to Persia where he shook Hands with the Great Mogul, Prester Iohn, and lay 3 Nights with the King of Bantam—From thence (being resolv'd to out-Ramble Drake) he took Shipping for the Holy Land, but that being now overgrown with Superstition, he staid there but two Nights, and then Embark'd for New England, where he fairly kiss'd an Indian Queen (a mighty matter! and so did I in the year 86) and din'd with 200 Sachems. At length As is hinted in my American Rambles, which I'll Publish when I return for London. being quite tyr'd he Embarqu'd for England, but took Tartary in his way home, where he got a Hair from the Great Chams Beard, and to Convince ye, Gentlemen all, this is no Lye, here 'tis.—
The Traveller having told 'em all that he saw (and a great deal more,) an Old Beef Eater falls to rubbing their Itching Ears. He pretends to discover all the Secrets of the Cabinet Counsel; He knows all the affairs of White-Hall to a Cows-Thumb, and (which is a thing I never minded) which Lady is Painted, and which not
Before his Discourse is ended, perhaps comes in a Fresh News-Hunter—Begins, Gentlemen have you heard any thing of a [Page 48] strange Whale now at Greenwich? Have any of ye seen the Great [...]zar of Muscovy, who they say is Landed Incognito? Or which of ye have seen the Second Sampson that carrys 20 Hundred weight on his Shoulders, out draws all the Horses in Town, and will Snap a sunder a Cable Rope as if 'twere Sewing-Thread? If these Queries are slighted, his next words are—What do ye think Gentlemen of the New Design (or an Act of Parliament) to make Usurers Charitable, and Misses forsake their Gallants?
By this time an Old-Toast that had been fast asleep with his Hat over his Face (For there's (a) always some shame in being Burden'd with an useless Knowledge) Moral Essays Vol. 2. p. 178. a wakes, and having 500 Inventions dancing in his Noddle, resolves he won't be out-lyed, so tells 'em their News is nothing to his—He has an Advice-Boat on the Stocks that shall go to Riga and come back again in Three Hours. A Trick to march under Water, by which hee'll Sink all the French Fleet as it lies at Anchor, and which (Gentlemen) is beyond this, I've just now found a way to catch Sun Beams for making the Ladys New Fashion'd Towers, that Poets may no more be Damn'd for telling Lyes about their Curles and Tresses.
Thus (Madam) you see there is nothing New at the Coffee-House (and I shall prove anon, nor any where else) and what stuff that is which they tell for N [...]ws. Men come to Coffee-houses purely to vent their strange and wild Conceits, and an Opinion how Foolish or fond soever, here receives Entertainment. You'll believe this, when I tell your Ladyship that in the time of Monmouths Invasion, I stept to a Coffee-House, where I found several asking for News? Gentlemen, said I, I can tell you what's very Surprising:—Come, let's have it, said one:—Nay, tell it, said another.—Why, 'tis this, The West is strangely Victorious, and I am told but an hour ago,— The Duke of Monmouth is to be made Prince George. Oh strange! said one 'Tis no more than I expected, said another. Nay, said a third, I did not doubt but he'd be our Deliverer.—And, to add to the Jest, 'tis no New Thing to the West Countreymen, to say, the Duke of Monmouth is yet alive. One wou'd ha' thought this Report, That the Duke of Monmouth was to be made Prince George, had been News; for tho Dr. Burnet tells us of In his Travels to Italy, p. 246. Two Nuns being changed into Men; yet I never before heard of one Man's being transform'd to another: Tho had it been true, it had been no News; for I doubt not but those skill'd in Natural [Page 49] History can give Instances of it. But this was a Fable, and the Moral to it is this.—
That there is no News, nor New Thing, and that the News we so Itch after, is nothing but Satan's Policy to abuse our Ears in hearing, our Tongues in speaking, and our Hearts in believing Lies, to disable us from discerning the Truth.—So much for News in Prose; and King Iames the First said, he'd never believe any News in Verse, since the hearing See his Apothegms, p. 14. of a Ballad made of the Bp. of Spalata, touching his being a Martyr, &c.
But perhaps you'll say, Tho the Coffee house, Weekly Papers, and Mens Humors, have nothing New, yet search further, and you'll find Novelties.—What think ye of the Athenian Mercury? Was n't that a New Project? Was n't a Pretence to Answer all Nice Questions, and Cases of Conscience, (yet so as the Querist might never be known) a New Attempt? Was it ever practic'd in England, Holland, France, Germany, &c.) till you set it a Foot under the Title of the Athenian Mercury? If not, 'twas a New Project, and (being yours) will ye disown a Brat of your own begetting?—
To this I answer,—Tho the Athenian Society had their first Meeting in my Brain, and the First Athenian Mercury was Partly my own Composure, yet I en't so vain as to think the Athenian Mercury was a New Project. 'Tis true, the answering any Reasonable Question, which shou'd be propos'd, was a thing of such a Nature as all the Ingenious appear'd highly pleas'd with; nor has the Esteem and Success it met in the world, given me much Reason to repent of this Undertaking; for 'twas a Whim that pleas'd the Ladies (who honour'd it with several Poems), and was continued to Twenty Volumes: but is far from being a New Project; for don't we read some thing like it in the Queen of Shebah, who 1 Kings c. 10. v. 1, 3. hearing of the Fame of Solomon, came to prove him with hard Questions; and her Questions, however Nice and Curious, (to use the Phrase in my Athenian Title) were all told her by Solomon; Neither was there any thing hid from the King, which he told her not.—And as I took the Subject from the Queen of Shebah, so I took the Title from the Old Athenians St. Paul speaks of, who spent Acts 17. 21. their time in nothing else, but in asking of Questions, and reporting what they thought was New.—And if Arts and Inventions flourisht at Athens, whilst they were unknown in England, yet you see (in that One Instance of the Athenian Mercury) they were afterwards to [Page 50] appear in their Time, yea, the Mysteries of Salvation were always— in Intellectu Divino ('tis an Affront to English it to a Lady of your Sense) which made our Saviour say— That Abraham had seen him. And this is the Sense wherein it is true—
Then en't it odd, that the Athenians (being Men of Learning) shou'd tax. St. Paul for being a setter forth of strange Acts 17. v. 18, 19. Gods, and a Broacher of New Doctrine; when Solomon, who was many Hundred Years before St. Paul, pronounces of his own Times, That there was not then, nor shou'd ever be, any New Thing? How much more then is it true in our Time, being so many years after him?—Thus have I proved there is Nothing New. Or (Madam) if ye think I han't, I might further consider the Formae Substantialis, as Renaudots calls 'em, and we shall find there is not One of that sort New, not only in its Species, but even in its Individual Qualities, which indeed appear New to our Senses, but yet are not so for all that: as the Shape of a Marble Statue was in the Stone, not only in possibility, but also in Act, before the Graver made it appear to our Eyes, by taking away that which was superfluous, and hindered us from seeing it. 'Tis a saying, there is but One Good Wife in the World, and ev'ry Man enjoys her (or, in other words, if he that's marry'd cou'd see another Good Wife besides his own, he'd see something wou'd be thought New) but it is not because it is so, but because it seems so; other Wives, as good, or better than ours, never coming to our Knowledge.—Much less likely is it that New Diseases shou'd be produced, as some have believed, imagining that the Ancients were not Curious enough to describe all those of their Times, or their Successors diligent enough to examine their Writings, to find them there. That Diseases, some Hundred years ago, were the very same as they are now, is evident in that One Distemper the French Pox,—which tho charged to Monsieur's Account, as a New Disease of his own begetting, yet 'tis easily proved, by Sennerius, and other Authors, that 'twas found at Naples many hundred years before 'twas call'd the French Disease; and I cou'd as easily prove it had not its Rise at Naples, but was frequent in other Places, before it was heard of there.—So that (as I said before) many things appear New which are not so, if we look into 'em.—Thus Printing, and Guns, which we believe were invented within these 200 years, are found to have [Page 51] been in use among the Chineses above a Thousand Years ago.—A like Instance we have in the London-Lotteries (and that established by Act of Parliament) which some will tell ye were never heard of till the English Wits set 'em on foot; tho 'tis not a month since I heard an Italian say, these Lotteries were practis'd in Uenice many years before they were mention'd in London.
And so again for the Penny-Post: some assert 'twas a New Invention of W—s, when he never once dream't of such a thing, till that Ingenious and Industrious Citizen Mr.— Dockwra, As I hinted in my last Letter. had first propos'd it to the World: and I shall ever think the Citizens of London owe him a signal Mark of their Favour, for the Service he has done to them and their Childrens Children, on that account: For my own part, whenever the present Chamberlain Dies, had I a Thousand Hands he shou'd have 'em all for his Advancement to that Honour, and that out of a sence of the Great Service he has done, (even we, as a Member of that City) in bringing the Penny-Post to Perfection.—But yet (Madam) to keep to my Text, I don't think the Penny-Post is a New Project. For what can the Man do that cometh after the King, but that which hath been already done? And I don't doubt but the Penny-Post is practic'd in some far Country, but I must own (to Mr. Dockwra's Honour) I cou'd never learn when nor where.
Finding nothing New amongst the Men, I'le next Visit the Ladys, for they Love to be gaz'd upon, and for that Reason, if there's anything-New to be sure they have it, but if you'l believe a Poet,—
Tho' I'm the softest Creature in Nature, yet am I bad Company for Ladys, for they'll sit a whole day in talking of nothing but the Newest-Fashions, (and how much they're admired by this Bean and t'other Bea [...])—How can I ha' patience to hear this, when I'm positive there's nothing New. And when they ask me when I saw any New Play, I bluntly tell 'em, There's [...] such thing; For you know Madam (and so wou'd they, if they [...]d look into Old Authors) that D—n stole from Shakespear, and Shakespear from Ben-Iohnson, and they all so steal from one another, that there's no Wit in any Play, but what we had 50 Years ago—But tho' there's nothing New in Play [...], yet one wou'd think there were Something-New in [...]a ys Dresses, (they dress in such a Towering manner) but if you Examine their Wardrobe, you'l find what [Page 52] they call New-Fashions, are but Old Fashions revived, for Fashion brought in Silks and Velvets at one Time, and Fashion brought in Russets and Grays at another.—Fashion brought in d [...]ep Ruffes and Shallow-Ruffs, Thick Ruffs and Thin Ruffs, Double-Ruffs and no Ruffs. Fashion brought in the Tunick and Vest, the Broad kneed Breeches, the Narrow brim'd Hat, the Shoulder knot, the Top knot, &c. But these are so far from being N [...]w, that they are Fashions that have been several times out and in, and in and out, and so will succeed each other (perhaps) to the End of Time.—This we see verified in the Vardingale; for Fashion brought in the Vardingale and carried out the Vardingale, and hath again reviv'd the Vardingale from Death, and placed it behind, like a Rudder or Stern, to the body; in some so big, that the Vessel is scarce able to bear it.—So much as the wearing of Top-knots, which is thought to be a New-Fashion, was practic'd of old; this Monumental Pride, or High-Building of Head-Gear is not of a New Invention, as Men take it to be, but of an old Edition; for Iuvenal in his Sixth Satyr, makes mention of them.— Tot premit ordinibus, &c.
And as Top-knots are an Old Fashion, so is Womens wearing the Breeches, (as much as 'tis wonder'd at) a custom as old as the fall of Man, 'tis no new thing to see Women Fight, and Rave, and to forget Obedience to their tender Husbands; not but there was a Time in England when Men wore the Breeches, and debarr'd Women of that gadding Liberty which they now take; but Eve got the Start of Adam in sinning, and ever since for a Woman to wear the Breeches is no new thing. If you won't believe it on my words, read Mr. Turners History of Providence, and there you'll find (in Chap. 51.) ‘That the first Man Adam, the Righteous Lot, the Faithful Abraham, the Meek Moses, the strong Sampson, the Wise Solomon, the Zealous Peter, the Philosopher Socrates, the Orator Cicero, were all either over-reached or over-power'd with Women.’—So that 'tis no New-thing for Women to wear the Breechees. And tho one wou'd think it a New Thing, 'tis none, to find some of the Fair Sex First at making of Love; or (as you [Page 53] express In your Remarks on my Con versation in Ire land, p. 514. it, taking upon 'em the part that once belong'd to Men. Neither are She-Wi [...]s any New Thing. I know one can Resolve the Nicest Points in Divinity (you must pardon me if I mean your Ladyship) another that understands and teaches Algebra, (and is a Young Midwife into the Bargain) a Third that understands Latin—and a Fourth, called Philomela, ‘who has taken the Name See the Preface to my Wi [...]e's Funeral Sermon. of the Nightingale, and her Notes are as sweet as the Voice of that is Musical:’ And for the Dear D—ne (that's dead and gone) she was an Angel dre [...] in Flesh and Blood; yet she stoop'd so low as to honour me with a constant Friendship; and I may say her Witty Letters were the only thing that kept me alive in Ireland. But She Wits Flourish't in former Ages as well as now. So that I visit the Ladies to as little purpose as I do the Men, for there's nothing new in Petticoats, and I think (Madam) 'tis as clear as the Sun, There's nothing New under it. And since I believ'd this, I've laid aside my Grand Ramble, for to what purpose shou'd I Travel, when the whole World has nothing to shew me, can be calld New. And you have heard this was Solomon's opinion, who was one of the Wisest of meer Men; and well hath he said. There is nothing New under the Sun, because (as Dr. Winter observes) Things Subject to Mutation are every Minute growing old: Until at last they be no more. The State of Glory and Blest Eternity is above the Brightness of the Sun. But the Starry Heavens come far short of it; They wax old as doth Psal. 102. 26. 2 Pet. 3. 10. a Garment, and they shall pass away.—There is indeed a Day of Renovation coming; When he who of old made out of nothing all New things in the World; shall out of a ruin'd old World, worse than nothing, make Rev. 21. 5. all things New. But this will be a work above the Sun: And till then, There is nothing New. Yet we see nothing pleases the deluded World but the Name and thought of Novelties.—The Devil and his Vile Instruments cry up their deluding Trash for New, as Women do their Oysters, when as they stink of Age. Custom is a Great Matter.—New-England, New-York, and New-Market, (which has been built this Hundred Year) is like to be so call'd to the Worlds end.—Cunning Salesmen give a sudden Turn to an old Coat, and then sell it for a New Garment, and thus we are trick'd out of our Money. Thus old forsaken Errors are become new cryed up [Page 54] Lights; and the Quakers thee and thou, and way of Cheating by selling Goods—at a word—is no more then we find in the Gnostici and Carpocratists, and the Enthusiasts of former Ages.— Impostors are no New thing. Theudas the Sorcerer made himself a Second Moses; neither is it any New thing for these false Prophets to lead Silly-Women Captive.— Montanas who call'd himself the Holy Ghost, had two such the Angels; Priscilla and Maximilla; and so dearly did they Love, that he and Madam Maximilla both hang'd themselves. Or if we look amongst the Iacobites, (we shall still despair of any thing New,) for 'tis no new-thing for Men to pack Iuries to serve a Turn, to deliver up Charters, to fell their Country, to Murmur after a Great Deliverance, or to refuse taking the Oaths till a good Deanery Greases the Passage.—All this is no New-thing, Diverse Hundred of Years since, The Christian Governour of the Castle of Turk Histo. Abydus, was himself and Castle betrayed into the hands of the Turks by his own Daughter; and an Hundred and Forty Years before that, Aleppo, the strongest City of the Christians in those parts, was betrayed to the Turk by the Governour.—To swear and forswear, and to play at fast and loose with a Crown (as a late Author observes) is no New-thing. Neither is it any new thing for Men to Cheat, Slander, Duel, Whore; and to pick a Pocket under the Gallows, is a Custom as old as Tyburn.—Neither is it a New thing to see a Man accuse himself (for a Guilty Conscience e'nt easy without it,) or for Men of a mean Birth to grow Proud, if they grow Rich, and to forget their Duty both to God and Man. This is but Shakespear, and Ben Iohnson brought again upon the Stage: And now I talk of Poets, I may venture to say 'tis no new thing to see Poets Starve.— (Oldham cou'd scarce pay for his Garret and a Sundays Dinner,) and for the Famous Butler (as I hinted in my Second Letter,) he was kept so Poor, that he was fore't to dye and be interr'd on Tick—But 'tis no new-thing to see Poets build Castles, in the Air; and I'm sure 'tis no new thing to see a Chimist * As is hinted in my last Letter. spend his Estate in searching after the Philosophers Stone.—
And lastly, to see Men of Piety and Sence slighted, and Fools and Idle Persons regarded, is no New Thing—For Merits and good Service to be starv'd in the Poor, for high Crimes to be Pardoned and Dignified in the Rich; and in a word, for plainhearted Men neither to be Patiently heard, nor at all believ'd, [Page 55] is no New Thing—Madam shall I stop here? For you see the further I search, the less hopes I have of finding any Thing New?
But perhaps you'll say—Here's a long Harangue to prove there is nothing New, when at the same time your retreat from London disproves all ye ha▪ said—Surely this is a New Thing; that I. D.—shou'd leave a House surrounded with 3 Gardens, (Gardens, the things he so much delights in) a Flourishing Trade, a Religious Wife (and one that he doats upon) a rich Mother in Law, tender Relations, and abundance of Loving Friends for no o'her end then to live in a Poor Cell to learn the Art of Living Incognito.—Madam, this is neither new nor strange; han't I prov'd in my first Letter, that by retreating, thus, I do but follow the example of several great Men?—But that which makes me the most in Love with Living Incognito, is your own Example; for (in your Answer to my first Letter), you say you know and taste it to the full, and that 'tis a Life you ha' courted e're since ye were at your own dispose.
When you consider this, you'll own my leaving of London for a poor Cell is no new thing; nor a jot, to be wondered at—But still you'l be ready to say, tho▪ there's nothing New in this private adventure, yet surely 'tis a New thing for a Bookseller to turn Author!—To this I answer, My Raven As was formerly hinted in the Athenian Mercury. is gone to Roost, and I write purely for my own diversion, so can't properly be call'd an Author, the word being generally taken in a Mercenary Sence and therefore don't wonder to find your Ladyship so angry with me at my offering to make you a Present. Were Bishop such a one—and Dr. such a one, of your Noble Temper, you'd scarce find a Bookseller that was not an Alderman—However, let me write for what end I please, there's nothing New in my leaving the Counter to turn Author—han't we Bookseller-Authors glittering in the Term. Catalogue.—I cou'd name several.—As first there's D. N. he's not only a Great Casuist, but I'm told has been Author of several Books, amongst which— The Protestants Resolution, shewing his Reasons why he will not be a Papist—is said to be one—and I wish your Ladiship had the Book, for I don't doubt but you'd like it so well as to give several Thousands away.
Not far from hence lives a Bookseller-Poet, (which is no Novelty neither, for there's Poet Larkin—Poet Kirkman, Poet Harris, and many other Bookselle-rPoet;) this Bard is a Poet Born—He's too Modest to, let me name him, but I've read his Poems, and [Page 56] (If I e'nt Partial to my Brother-Author;) wou'd he Print 'em, you'd think him Cowley reviv'd—But I don't wonder that an humble Man shou'd avoid Praise; but I do admire that I.-S-y; (that wou'd-be-Wit) never turn'd Author; for he had the most conceit, and the least Reason for it, of any Man I ever knew in my Life—And 'twou'd be no New Thing to hear Patrick-Campbell say as much of me for writing— The Dublin Scuffle, and my Essay on Knowing our Friends in Heaven. However some Men of Great Quality and Wit have given these Books the Reading, and 'tis no new Thing for an Author, whose Books sell, to Print on 'till he ruins the Bookseller, and therefore (Madam,) provide your self with a Hogs-Head of Ink, and a Million of Pens, for my Art of Living Incognito shall be continu'd to a Thousand Letters (as is hinted in my Dedioation to your Ladiship) and by that time they are all Printed, I hope I shall have the Honour to see your Ladyship (if it be but half an Hour) to talk 'ore the Virtues of that Dear Friend who was the first occasion of our Correspondence—
And thus you see my turning Author is no more a Novelty then all the rest, and that there is nothing New, let us go East, West, North or South; and I'm sure you'l own 'tis no new Thing for me to be tedious, so I'll stop here, having satisfied my self there's nothing New; but I believe, not your Ladiship, for there's an Expression in your Remarks on my Conversation in Ireland, that proves you of another Opinion. In p. 544 you say— ‘ Tis the Fate of Novelty to please or displease extreamly’—And again in p. 525. you have this Expression— But the Novelty once over, there's an end of the Enjoyment—Which plainly intimates— you think there is something New; If that's your Opinion, I must expect to be disprov'd in all I have said on this Subject; but 'till then, I shall retain my Opinion that the Art of living Incognito can't consist of anything New, and that if you expect Novelties, you'l be disappointed; so I shan't Apologize for entertaining ye with old Thoughts and old Expressions, for (I have proved) there is nothing new under the Sun. If there be any thing New, 'tis Valeria; and she is or may be so if she prefers my Esteem to the World: But loving at this rate my self, I shall ever think that an Old Love that Flames not so high as mine; but except Valeria, there is nothing New; and as there's nothing new, I have in that proved my self to to be,
The LADY's Answer to my Fourth LETTER.
YOU do me a great Favour in giving me a right apprehension of what I must expect in those Thousand, not New but Uncommon Subjects you have chosen to write upon, and have taken some Pains to free me from the Vulgar Error of expecting new things, which Solomon Affirms the World can never shew, which yet Experience seems to contradict, and shall be my Business to reconcile, since you have given me that Libert; and I think may be done without much difficulty, if we consider, when Solomon says there's nothing new under the Sun, he meant it only with respect to the Sinful and deprav'd Tempers and Inclinations of Men, which would be always the same, producing the same Mischiefs and Calamities in the World; this Experience has abundantly confirm'd, for instance, the Fine Houses and Palaces every where Built, with such Magnificent Pride to make themselves a Name, is but the same design that set to Work the Builders of Babel; nor do these find any New Success; the Fate of their Posterity, for all their great design, is the same with those of Babel, to be scatter'd abroad upon the Face of the Earth.
And before that, when Men were distinguish'd and call'd the Sons of God, because they began to call on the Name of the Lord, yet when they saw the Daughters of the Men of the World that they were Fair, they took 'em Wives of all, whom they Chose, which provoked God, (foreseeing the wickedness it wou'd engage 'em in, and that the 'thoughts and Imaginations of their Hearts were only Evil continually) to bring a deluge upon the Earth to destroy 'em.
Now the same Corruption of Nature works in this Generation, they take those Women that please 'em, and have no more regard then those of old to any thing else; and one sees all the World over the sad and dreadful effects of the Evil Thoughts and Imaginations of their Hearts, which will improve continually, 'till the great Conslagration, unless God in his Wisdom have prepar'd some other Cure for 'em.
And now that we find all our Cities abound in Wickedness, we must not look for any new or strange cause of it; 'tis the same that caus'd the Sin of Sodom; Pride; fullness of Bread, and abundance of Idleness was in her and in her Daughters, says the Prophet Ezekiel, So we see there's nothing new in Sin, or the Fruits and Effects of it, nor any new Device for Building Happiness upon the weak and frail foundation [Page 58] of Corrupt Nature, which Solomon at that time was Essaying to do and upon the fullest Tryal that ever was or could be made, he pronounced, that all the Experience he had goten, served only to convince him that Happiness could never spring from Sinful Nature, which never did, nor ever could, produce any thing but Vanity and Vexation of Spirit.
But I see not how Solomon in saying there was nothing New under the Sun, could possibly extend it so far as to Arts and Sciences; for there were some Generations pass'd (as Scripture testifies) before there were Harps and Organs, or those that could handle 'em, or any that could work in Brass and Iron, 'till Lamech's two Wives brought him two Sons, who instructed in those Arts; and for the work of the Taber nacle, God is said to inspire two Men with Wisdom, Understanding and Knowledge, to Devise cunning Works in Silver, and Gold, and Brass; those things must needs have been New that were never known 'till th [...]t Generation; and who could say there was nothing new, with respect to Arts and Sciences with less reason then Solomon, who sat himself upon a Throne of so new an Invention; the Scripture affirming there was none like it in any Kingdom: And that which is said to dispirit the Queen of Sheba, was the wonderful Novelty she observed in the Oeconomy of that Great and Wise King, who can't be thought, after all this, to deny that Arts and Sciences may be New, else what must become of the Foundation the Port Royal has laid, upon the supposit on of new Arts and Inventions, to p [...]ove the existence of God, and that the World is not Eternal? They say, and with great reason too, there are some Inventions so beneficial to the World, that 'tis impossible that being once known, they could ever be lost or laid aside, as the Invention of Printing, of the Sea Card, Guns and Mills, which for certain some Ages past the World was Ignorant of, and therefore must be the new I [...]ventions of later Ages; and by this they prove the World it self was New some Thousand years since; for had it been from Eternity, things so obvious and easie must needs have been found out long before; it binders not but that many things are thought New, only for having been so long disus'd that they are out of remembrance; and 'tis Happy for us, in some respect, because thereby it gives us all that can be call'd Pleasure in the whole Universe; for we see the defects of what we are throughly acquainted with, but we are pleasingly deluded with great Expectations from every thing that's New: and I am sorry you should ever give the World so just an occasion to quarrel with you for taking away their Soul, their Life, their all; yet if you can make good your promise, and present 'em with new Subjects, such as are curious and very rarely handled, you'll make 'em ample aménds; for a thing so much beyond [Page 59] their expectation will be esteem'd equal to a Novelty, and as to all those Projects and Inventions from which you have been so studious to take off the dear reputation of new, that perhaps chiefly recommended them at first, but since found so necessary for the gratif [...]ing of their sinful and depraved Appetites, they are too considerable for you to blast, yet are they the Fruits and Effects of Sin, so nothing new according to Solomon; but many things not new to all, are so to those who are strangers to the World, and have but little experience, which i [...] my Case.
For Booksellers to turn Authors, is News to me, but no surprize; 'tis hard to think how they should forbear writing, having fill'd their Heads with so much reading; and of all Men they may best be allow'd to be Poets, which is the readiest vent for abundance of thoughts; so that, 'twere strange if Booksellers were not more learned then other Traders, for they have all the Utensils of Learning about them, living by Learning; though 'tis often seen, it's worth runs more into their Pockets then Heads; however 'tis certain, that Men of this Profession have greater opportunities then others for improving their Understandings in Languages, History, Divinity, &c.
The Book you mention, I should once have thought it great Charity to disperse, but now I think there's little danger of the Papists making many Proselites any where; I expect that Church should lose every day and not gain.
But what can be said to your retirement from so many advantages to a lonely Cell, living Incognito, in order to writing, purely for your own Diversion? If you have proved by many Examples 'tis no new thing, which should I grant you, I can't allow it not a Jot to be wonder'd at, for nothing can be more surprizing then such a sudden and unaccountable change, as from having your Head and Fancy running to the farthest part of the Earth, and your Eyes never satisfied with seeing, you should like a Moroco Mounted upon a Barb, give a sudden check to your Passionate Love to Rambleng, in its highest career, and confine your self to a lonely Cell: Sure Hope has represen [...]ed to your Fancy some excessive fine Prospect of learning the Art of Living Incognito, which must be New, for I believe you never was before under such an Inchantment; I'll go no farther, therefore, for an Instance then your Self, to find a proof of something new, after all the Pains you take to prove the contrary, and yet the method you take to procure this mighty Happiness you expect, is to me more new and strange, that knowing as you do, how easy it is for an Authorwhose Book sells to write on till he ruins the Bookseller, you should lay such a Project of writing so many Letters, and chuse a Person to help you so proper for such a purpose of ruining the Bookseller, especially [Page 60] if I must bepaid too for doing mischief; which plainly shews you have some new and Ill design against the World. But I'll take no Pay for such Services, and this again is something new; so that there needs no more to convince you of your mistaking the sence of Solomon, I shall add no more, but conclude.
LETTER V.
Being a Defence of Speedy Marrying after the Death of a good Wife.
I Have now made so great a Progress in the Art of Living Incognito, as that I Live so now whether I will or no; not that I like it the better, that I must now do that for my Safety, which at first I design'd for my Pleasure; but this Necessity, added to my Natural Inclination to a Private Life, will have that good Effect as to perfect me in the Art of Living Incognito; seeing 'tis likely Now to be my Daily Study to the End of my Life, But for what Reasons I Refer you to my Printed Case; and as Dismal as that is, seeing I Marryed a Second Time in hopes to be as happy as I was at first, the Subject of this Letter shall be
Defence of Speedy Marrying after the Death of a good Wife.
One wou'd think (Madam) my being Banish'd to a Private Cell shou'd raise in my Breast an Aversion to your Sex, (by Reason my Dear wou'd not prevent it) yet I see nothing can change my nature; for the Thoughts of the good Wife I lately Buryed, and that kind one, I yet hope to find in Valeria, fills me with an Extraordinary Opinion of Marriage, and truly (Madam) your Displeasure at this, has strangely Mis-lead your Friendship, if it makes you angry with me for being such a Loving-Creature.—Sure, Sabina, you were not in Earnest when (after the Death of my first Wife) you reflected on my design of speedy Marrying again—That Widdower only loved at first as he ought, who Marries again as soon as (decently) he can; 'tis a known Truth, those love their first Wives best, who Marry soonest (there's a Remarkable instance of this now at Hackney) neither is it rational to think they'd run Head-long into a State of Life, wherein they had been unfortunate; alas, Madam, a good Wife at first does but whet ones Appetite the more for another, and make; one e'en languish for a second part to the same Tune—A good Wife is but Woman in Body alone, and a Woman with a [Page 61] wise Soul is the fittest Companion for Man, otherwise God wou'd ha' given him a Friend rather than a Wife; but we find even in Paradice twon't good for Man to be alone, and that even then a she-Companion was the meetest helper. If Man in Innocency needed a Help, Solace, and Comfort, and Marriage was all these, how deficient were our (now miserable) Lives without it? For besides that it doubles Ioys and divides Griefs, it creates new and unthought-of Contenments. So that I admire Marriage is so unfashionable, and that you and others are so backwards to't, for it not only includes all the Sweets of Life, but he that hath a Wife which Loves him, hath two Selfs, and possesses all his Faculties double, his Hands, his Eyes, and Mind, he can at once leave Faithful at home, and carry Faithful abroad— Cato was so taken with Marriage, that he'd have no Widower live a month single; and he did not stick to maintain that it was more Honourable to be a good Husband then a great Senator—Madam, when you're blaming of hasty Matches, you quite forget, that when Ieptha's Daughter Dyed, they mourned for that she Dyed a Maid; and the truth is, tho' we we find many Enemies to speedy Marriage, yet 'tis rare to find an Enemy to the use on't, and I don't wonder at this, for both Sexes made but Man at first, so that Marriage perfects Creation by restoring our lost Rib. Surely He, (I won't say she) was made Imperfect that is not tending to Propagation—Now all are concern'd here (even Sabina herself, if she's Flesh and Bloood) and consequently shou'd Marry as soon as they can; for to have an honest Remedy at Hand, and yet to seek out forbidden Cures, is a Phrensy that deserves more then a Chain and a Dark Room. But tho' speedy Marriage be often a Duty, yet let generous minds beware in their haste of Marrying Poor, for tho' they care the least for Wealth, yet they'l be most gall'd with the want of it; for my own share, my Flesh is not over Malicious towards sweet meats, yet (shou'd I lose Valeria) I'd soon Marry again, for the defence of a good Custom, a great deal of Love, and a little Money—Nay, Madam, think what you please (of this speedy Marrying,) to something I must dedicate my self: for my Dear in her parting with me, seems to take away even the substance of my Soul along with her, and certainly I laid up my chief Treasure (whatever you may think of my Marrying so hastily) in the Frail and Sickly Life of that Tender Wife—But now shee's gone, I must not weep as one without hope; for she's as happy as Heaven can make her, and I as Earth can make me; if Valeria for my sake, and her own good, wou'd despise the World.—
These were the Reasons why I Marryed so soon after the Death of my first Wife, and made me think Time lost 'till I went about it; for (Madam) the Soul is framed of such an active Nature, that 'tis impossible, but it must assume something to it self to delight in; we seldom find any without Peculiar Delight in some Peculiar thing; and mine consists in carressing a Vertuous Wife. But tho' something I must Like and Love, yet nothing so Violently as to undo my self with wanting it; yet will never love a Wife so little (shou'd I Marry 50) as that she shall not Command the All of an honest Man; and what wou'd they have more?—Confess, Sabina, shou'd not these considerations weigh down all the Formalities that a Customary Practice can possibly impose? Besides, Gather your Rose-Buds whilst you may, is an old Song, and Nature having denyed me Children (those tender Pledges of conjugal Love) it cou'd be no Crime in me to prevent the work of Time, and Marry as soon as I cou'd, for fear of Staying 'till Time were past——'Tis true, Children are the poorest way of Immortalizing as may be, and as Natural to a Beggar as a Prince: yet for all that, I shall be very Proud of getting an Heir to Sampsill (when 'tis consistent with doing Justice,) and of being a Father, tho 'twere but for one Day. Not that I'm in Post-haste; but if pure Love can make a Woman Kind, I hope (with Valeria's leave) to be happy a second time in a Marryed State, and can never be so in any other. But Valeria sure is [Page 62] Dead, (for I han't receiv'd a Line from her since we parted in Iewen-street) or were she not, had I all the World it shou'd be hers; for tho I'm treated with the greatest Indifference, methinks I can n'ere be kind enough to those I Love.—(But to digress no longer) So much I was pleas'd with my first Marriage, and so unlikely to forget that Dear Half that's Dead, that I may truly say all the time I lived without her I was as 'twere in a Dream; and I don't doubt, shou'd I Marry a third time, but I shall (as I did at first) find more Pleasure in Possession, than I now do in expectation—Then can you blame my hasty Marrying, seeing when I Marryed, my own Venus was suppos'd (and so shee'l prove at length) all that's excellent in Woman kind; for what has the whole Sex more then in one alon [...] that is kind and loving? and so I'le think the Person I Marry, were she made of Adamant—Then Sabina, acknowledge your Errour in Censuring my hasty Marriage; You know▪not what—Charms there are in a Virtuous Spouse, what a Mine of pleasure, what sprightly Life and Vigor did Iris give to all my Thoughts, Looks and Actions, how many new satisfactions in every thing she did! How did I even live in her Dying Breath! If you doubt this, read her LIFE, and you'l find it so—Now (whilst I was a Widdower) thought I with my self, why might not some of these Vertues revive in a second Wife? how ever, Hit or Miss; Luck's all; and who'd not hastily venture for such a Prize, except (as some have thought) all Female Excellence is fled with Iris; and I shou'd think so too, were Valeria Dead, who has Charms enough, but her Bags hide 'em—
I might urge mo [...]e in defence of a hasty Marriage, as the Inclination of Black Men—the Benefit in a Wives going to Market, (for I never knew, nor cou'd Buy a Ioint of Meat)—The want of a Mistress to rule the Kitchin (for I ne're presume to direct there) to order about Tarts, Puddings, Wines and Kickshaws, and I had almost forgot the Cream o'th' Iest, the pleasure of a warm Bedfellow; but I'le not enlarge as not doubting but what's said [...] has fairly proved that every Widdowerought to Wed as soon as he can, and that my Marrying again (five Months after my Wife dyed) was no slight to her Memory: SLIGHT! no I assure your Ladyship, 'twas to fulfill her DYING REQUEST; 'twas the desire of my Dear her self, that after her Death I'd speedily Marry again (such regard had she to my future happiness) and I cou'd not deny such a Wife any thing, especially her last Request on her Death—Bed; that was utter'd with a tenderness that will n'ere be equal'd; to sl [...]ght this Request, wou'd be to forget h [...]r, which is the Crime you charge me wi [...]h, and of which you'l ever acquit me when you read the following EPITAPH (now Ingra [...]'d on the Tomb erected to her Dear Memory,) (viz.)
Here Lies all that was Mortal of ELIZABETH, first Wife of JOHN DUNTON, Citizen and Stationer of London, who departed this Life, May 28th, 1697.
Thus (Madam) you see I'm so far from slighting the Memory of my Dear Iris (by my hasty Marrying) that to her very Ashes I keep a Body pure and Troth inviolable, and that Separation can have no place in our Union, which is too great to be exampled; and as I owe this respect to the Memory of my first Wife, so 'tis no more (when she proves as kind,) than I'll pay to this, or if possible, a greater Tenderness; for I ever thought he never lov'd who ever makes retreat.—Sabina are you yet reconcil'd to my HASTY MARRIAGE? If not, I must be forc'd to 'tell ye, that no other Amusement but Marriage cou'd ha' sav'd my Life, and you 'ent my Friend if you'd have me, dye when there were Remedies at hand!—Alas I no sooner thought of my Dear Departed (and I hardly thought of any thing else 'till I had a NEW Wife to divert the Melancholy,) but I e'en pind aw'ay; but (thought I) shou'd I get HER LIKENESS AGAIN, that then Iris wou'd live with me still, tho' but in Effigie; and such a RESEMBLANCE of her must save my Life, or nothing; truly Madam, 'twas thus with me, and I MUST BE SHACKLED AGAIN, OR DYE FOR'T—What the success has been, you'l see in my PRINTED CASE, but how happy I am yet to be, time must discover: However shou'd Wife, Mother, and all my Friends either continue or grow unkind, yet I have this comfort left, that by A SELF-ABNEGATION, and dis-sociation from the World, I shall be United to Him, who is so much above all I ever had, or the World can give, as he is all I can wish to have; and certainly he only is the DIVINE HERMIT, who by not loving the World, leaves it whilst he lives in it; excluding himself as well from the S [...]n, as the Society of Men, and by Acting thus, he CONQUERS BY RETREATING, and thereby shews he is not altogether beholding to Solitude for the Glory of his Vertue—I have only to add, That your speedy Answer, will be Impatiently desired by,
The LADY's Answer to my Fifth Letter.
I AM very sorry so Unhappy a Necessity should come to take from you the Glory of Constancy; for I am perswaded you would have perfected your Art of Living Incognito, without Constraint, and shew'd your self as constant to what you first chose for your Pleasure, and the Improvement of your Thoughts, as you [Page 64] do now to Marriage, in your defence of it, after all the Ill Treatment you have so lately received from it, which, as you well observe, might have created an Aversion to the whole Sex, in a Man of a Less Loving Temper: but you still dream of finding out some way of making Valeria a Kind and Loving Wife.
And indeed I should be very defective in my Friendship, were I resolv'd to blame your Loving Temper since 'tis that alone enables you to bear your Misfortunes with any Tolerable Fase, hoping still to Charm Valeria with your Love, and at last rival the Bags I wish it may ever do you so much good. I confess what I observe in those Loving Tempers, can never bring me to Ambition such a happiness as they possess with all their Injoyments, in a World so full of changes and uncertainties, and in one of the frailest things in the World, a Woman, so Compos'd of Vanity and Inconstancy. Yet notwithstanding I must own (what will partly Iustifie your Extraordinary Opinion of Marriage); That Friendship never is in that Perfection as between Man and Wife; and that a Woman with a Wise Soul, is the fittest Companion for a Man: Nay if there be but one WISE SOUL between 'em, so it be but known to 'em which it is that has it, 'tis well enough; the very Union makes 'em happy, and useful to each other. CALO was much in the right to say, It was more Honourable to be a Good Husband than a Great Senator? For 'tis always better to be Good than Great; but was not so extreamly rig't in not allowwing A MONTHS TIME for single Liberty. The Man that can obtain the Reputation of a good Husband in such an Age as this, is worthy of double honour; for he must have a strange Art of Conduct, not only for the Governing his Wife, but of what ever Governs her; and 'tis twenty to one he gets the Reputation of an ill Husband for his pains, rather than a good one, let him deal never so gently, unless the vertue lie in some Measure on the Womans side, of chearfully submiting to his Government; therefore by Cato's good leave, there's no doing any thing well in haste, the World is not so mightily stock'd with Women of that Vertue, that a Man can't chuse but light on 'em in a Months time; they were more scarce than so in Solomon's time, much more in this Corrupt Age; yet so far I yield, as to allow it a great Argument of Love to your first Wife, your Impatience to be yoak'd again; but must beg your pardon if I deal plainly with you, and tell you such a suddain Engagment after her Death, look'd as if you had not the Exact Estimate of her Singulr Vertue; you did not impute the Sole cause of your Felicity to a thing so rarely found in Women, as Solomon affirms, but thought it went in common with the fair Sex. I also fear you imputed a little too much to your self, and thought your Love and Tenderness, most needs indear you to any Woman. Some such Mistake made you so fearless in such a Hazzardous Attempt. but tho I blam'd your hasty Marriage, when I was a stranger to your many reasons for it, yet am I far from thinking i [...] any slight to the Memory of your first Wife; I really believe you esteem'd it the only means to comfort you for the loss of her, and am very Glad whatever has happen'd since, it proved at that time, such a Cordial as sav'd your Life. But in all this, I see no cause to applaud your LOVING TEMPER, that forces you to dedicate your self to something, when there's nothing Permanent under Heaven, and must therefore leave you, and carry away the very Substance of your Soul, that can't be easie without it's peculiar delight, which consists in caressing a Vertuous Wife that's hardly to be found: So that your Felicity is Compos'd of so many difficulties, it must come samewhat near a Miracle that makes you happy; and all owing to your being such a Loving Creature.
[Page 65] But be it as it will, when SPEEDY MARRIAGE becomes a duty (for then God calls us to that state of Life) we have nothing to consider, but how to make a vertue of Necessity, and chuse, as near as we can, for Piety and Goodness, rather then trouble our selves with the fears of Poverty. A Man is not the less Generous for having little to give; but shews his Generosity as much in envying no Body, but being satisfied with his Portion in this Life: For the greater the Mind is, with the less it is content; and whatever the World may think, the Poor serve the Publick in Marrying, as much as the Rich. Should none Marry but the Wealthy, with what a Race of Pride and insolence would it fill the World? All Arts and Ingenuity Spring from Necessity; and Poverty may be truly said to be the source of all Vertue; and those that make so ill use of it as to commit such Outrages, as brings 'em often to untimely ends, would have made no better use of Riches, if they had had 'em; and 'tis only our corrupt Nature turns Soveraign Medicines into Poison.
And now I shall Freely own, I am convinced of my Error, in censuring your hasty Marriage; tho I can't admit of all your Arguments for Marriage in general. I am convinced some Persons Tempers and Inclinations are so perfectly opposite, as plainly shews Providence never design'd ' [...]m for it; and for such to marry, meerly to please the World, and avoid Reproach, would be the greatest Sin and Folly imaginable, in despising the highest Gift and Priviledge Heaven could bestow on Mortalls, while here on Earth; which is enough to justifie those that neither seek nor desire Marriage: yet ought they to think it their Duty to serve the Publick, and not live only for themselves; Nay they are oblig'd to do the more, as having the Liberty of chusing so many several ways of doing it.
It had been happy for the World, if so great a Patron and Votary to Marriage, as you, had not met with such a discouragement; a little time will discover for whom to chastisement was designed. I hope it will never come to that, of Mother, Wife, and all your Friends forsaking yoo. I can answer for one; tho in the way you propose to your self, you may perhaps find more comfort then in the greatest kindnes [...] any Friend can shew you; and this is past a Doubt with me; for I really believe it, who am,
LETTER VI.
Proving 'tis a Happiness to be in Debt.
IN my last Letter I acquainted your Ladiship that I had made a considerable Progress in the Art of Living incognito, and that I was now oblig'd to live s [...] whether I would o [...] no: I was ever in love wi [...] A PRIVATE LIFE; [...] ' [...]is my misfortune now, (and the only thing in the World that [...]bles me) that my obl [...]gations [Page 66] to some People, drive me as much as my own inclinations, to a lonesome-Cell Madam, you'l admire at this, for you see by my See my Printed Case. p. 7. PRINTED CASE, that all I owe in the World is scarce 250 Pounds; which I must think is a TRIFLING SUM, as 'tis not the 15th part Lands are worth (if you take in present Possessions and Reversions) and of what my [...] scarce the tenth part of what my Wife, (an only Child) has a Title to, at her Mothers Death, and which she cannot injoy without me; for I wish I cou'd see that Man that dares keep her from me, when I send for her. which I shall at Midsummer, if not Sooner But for all this Plenty on both sides, at present I have a little occasion for Money; yet neither she nor her Mother will permit me to take up the Small SUM I want. So that 'tis clear tho' we Solemnly took each other for RICHER FOR See the Reflectione on my Printed Case. p. 2. POORER, that nothing but Money parts us; and this is evident by her saying, (as I can prove by a dozen Witnesses,) that she had been a miserable Woman, had she Married any Man but my self. But I had only such fair words, whilst they cost her nothing: however, my comfort is, a little Time will work my Deliverance without her; but in the mean time I am pinch'd (as I'm forc'd to trespass on my, generous Friends,) but seeing ev'ry Man is willing to make his present Circumstance as easie as he o [...]n (that I may make a Vertue of Necessity, as well as others) this Subject of this Letter shall be,
An Essay proving 'tis a Happiness to be in Debt.
You see, Madam, by this Assertion, 'tis a very strange case, which can find no Advocate what is it that fancy cannot put a varnish on? A porson'd Pill may be gilded over, as well as that which is wholesome. Favorinus long ago wrote in the commendation of a Quartan Ague; the soul Disease hath not wanted a Pen to excuse and commend it: others have made a very bad Wise the Subject of their Commendation, because (they say) She brings a Man to Repentance. But, of all barren Subjects that have been yet writ upon, this of proving 'tis a Happiness to be in Debt, I judge will be most surprizing. I own at present I Live Incognito that I may be rendered uncapable of contracting any more Debts: yet I shall endeavour to prove 'tis a Happiness to be in Debt. 'Tis true for my own part, I'd rather sell my Coat from my Back, than owe any thing; and therefore in 15 YEARS TRADING, I never set any Man call twice for Money: and 'tis my Advice to ev'ry Citizen, (that is in Debt) that he pays ev'ry Man his own, the he [...]ares himself not worth a G [...]eat; or it he compounds to pay a patt. nevertheless let him resolve to satisfy all to the full, if his endeavours, and God's Blessing, ever again inables him. If our Citizen Acts thus— By suffering he shall Conquer. The Romans overcame sitting still, 'tis a comfort to remember Iob's beginning and ending: Tribulation refines the Understanding. Hannibal deservedly boasted of himself, Age, Prosperity, and Adversity have so Instructed me, that I had rather follow Reason than Fortune. He had never attdin'd this pitch of discomment, [...]ad for his decliming Fortines obliged him to surmount all difficulties by his Conduct. The Rich Chabot wou'd be Symboliz'd by a Ball with this Inscription— Being Smitten, I Rise higher—Men in prosperity are seldom Religious. But no Whip is more likely to reform the unfortunate, or gives a shrewder Las [...], than the Labells of a Bond, or Obligation with a Noverint Universi. He therefore, and only he gets by his breaking, who is more humble, pitiful, mortified, given to Pryer, &c. Thus Madam, having first told you my Noti [...]s of [...]ustice. I hope I may now, without offence to those few I'm engaged to——Prove, 'tis a Happiness to be in Debt, and most live as if they belseved as much—For to run in Debt ouw adays, is the Fashion, from the Lord to the Cobler: 'tis become a saying, he [Page 67] Pays like Quality: that is, he is Dun-Proof; and thinks it a mean thing to pay his Debts: and this is not only the Practice of some Rich Men, (for the greatest part are of a Nobler Principle,) but also of the poorer Gentry. Mr. Marshal of B—mer told me yesterday of a Gentleman that drop'd 25. 6d. as he was mounting his Horse, the Hostler stoop'd for it, and wou'd sain have given it him, Prithee (Friend) take it, said the Gentleman, for 'twan't worth my stooping for, when at the same time he owed more then he was worth; sure such as these think 'tis a Happiness to be in Debt, or th [...]y'd never be thus Prodigal! But I wonder how they can sleep in quiet that are thus injurious to others; and I find Augustus Caesar of the same mind, for hearing it talk'd in his Court what a huge Sum of Money a certain Knight in Rome ov [...]ed at his Death, and that all his Goods were to be Sold to make Payment of his D [...]bts; Commanded the Master of his WARDROBE to buy for him that BED wherein this Knight used to lye, for (says he) if I cannot Sleep soundly in that Bed wherein he cou'd Sleep, that owed so much, then surely I shall Sleep in none—But some han't been so forward to run in Debt, but others have been as forward to punish their Injustice—The Debt being confessed (amongst the Romans) Thirty Days were allowed the Debtor for the payment of the Money. The Money not paid, the Debtor was delivered up as a Servant to his Creditor; he was sometimes cast into Prison, and unless the Creditor were in the mean time compounded with; he remained Threescore Days in Prison, and Three Market Days being brought before the Judge, the Debt was Solemnly proclaimed, and upon the third Market Day, he was either Sold to Foreigners for a Slave, or else was Punished by Death, each Ceditor being suffered if he wou'd, to cut a piece of his Dead Body instead of payment Roman Antiquities.—— Asychis made as odd a Law against bad Debtors as this, 'twas that the Dead Bodies shou'd be in the Creditors keeping, 'till the Debt were paid; and I'm told, 'tis common in England to Arrest the Corps of a Debtor as 'tis carrying to the Grave.
But one wou'd admire that Men (that stand in need of mercy themselves) shou'd be thus sharp upon their poor Debtors. For in the whole Course and Frame of Nature, we see that nothing is made for it self, but each hath a Bond of Duty, of Use, or of Service, by which it is Indebted to others. The SUN by his splendor to enlighten all the World, by his warmth, and heat i [...] cherish and comfort each living and vegetable Creature—Yea, even Man (the Lord of the Creation) is so framed of God, that not only his Country, his Parents, and his Friends, claim a share in him, but he is also indebted to his Hound and to his Ox, the one for Hunting for his pleasure, and the other for labouring for his profit; and therefore a good Man is merciful to his Beast. His Iudgment, Wit, Discretion, he hath them for others as much as for himself; and as to his WEALTH he han't a Penny but what he's accountable for. But such is the mystery of this Stewardship (where even GOD himself is Debtor, and Mail Creditor; for is it not said, He that hath pity on the Poor lendeth unto the Lord, and that which he hath given will be pay him again, Prov. 19. 17.) That present payment is the least and worst, the Lender oweth more then the Receiver; the Poor (whose Prayers are he [...]rd) bestowing more then he receiveth; and his Box is more the Rich Mans Treasury than his own! Then wou'd we have a Policy on Heaven (of our uncertain Riches) we must make the Poor our Insurers? Sure I am, ev [...]ry Man stands in need of this Advice; seeing had he the Riches of Solomon (whose Wealth was so Great that it wou'd puzzle our Accomplants to find New Names for Sums) of all we may say as he said of the Ax Head that fell off to Elijah the Prophet (2. Kings 6. 5.) Alas Master, it is but borrowed. ‘Do [...]ou Oua [...] such a one rich (saith Seneca) because of his, [...]ich Sumpter Horse, or because he has a Plow going in ev'ry Province, or for his large Account-Book, o [...] s [...]ch large’ [Page 68] Possessions near, the City? When you have said all, he is Poor: But you will say why? Why because [...]e oweth all; unless you make a difference between borrowing from Men and from Providence.—
Then let not him that has lost an Estate Mourn, for another lost it before he had it: perchance if he had not lost it now, it had lost him for ever, and therefore in such a Case as this, let us rather think what we have escaped then lost—And what we Owe, rather than what we are
Even Kings owe Protection to their Loyal Subjects and their Subjects of all Ranks, owe Allegiance to their Sovereign Lord—Our Lands and Lives (if we are Loyal) are the Kings, and nothing can we call our own but Death.—
Then again let us look into our selves and see how our constitutive parts are Debtors each to other—The Soul doth quicken and give Life to the Body, and the Body like an Automaton (as one expresses it) doth move and carry it self and the Soul.—
Again if we Survey Man in his parts, the Eye sees for the Foot, the Foot standeth for the Hand, the Hand toucheth for the Mouth, the Mouth tasteth for the Stomach, the Stomach eateth for the whole Body, the Body repayeth again that Nutriment, which it hath received to all the parts, discharging the Retriments by the Port Esquiline, and all this (as an Eminent Physician observes) in so comely an Order and by a Law so certain, and in so due a time, as if Nature had rather Man shou'd not have been at all, then not to be a Debtor in every part of him.
The ALCHIMISIS who promise to themselves to turn Tin into Silver, and Copper into Gold, how will they be transported out of themselves with Joy, if they shou'd but see a happy issue of their attempt? How much more a Creditor when he shall recover a desperate Debt? It is like the Joy of a Father that receives his lost Child.
Again, He that is in Debt, hath this great Priviledge above other Men, that his Creditors pour out Hearty Prayers for him; they wish that he may Live, Thrive, Prosper and grow Rich; and all for their own Advantage; They seem to be careful for their Debtors, that they may not lose the many Hundreds they owe them. Witness those usurers of Rochel, who when they heard that the Interest of Money was fallen, went and hang'd themselves for Grief, and truly (Madam,) I can't altogether blame 'em, for most Men owe not only there Learning to their Plenty, but likewise their Vertue and their Honesty: For how many Thousands live now in the World in great Reputation for their Honest and Just Dealings with all Mankind, who if they were put to their Shifts, as others as Honestly inclin'd are, wou'd soon lose their Reputation, [...]ea, turn Rogues and Knaves too, as the Vulgar think and generally calt such as are not able to pay their Debts? I question not but Want and self Preservation, (for Hunger will break through Stone Walls) wou'd put some of them upon those very hard Shifts, they now blame so much in others: But for all they are so often put to their Shifts, I must say this, to the HONOUR OF DEBTORS, that they have a great Influence over their Creditors, they become in a manner, their Land-Lords, to whom they Cringe, Kneel, as if they did owe them all Imaginable Services; and are as Ambitious of their Debtors Favours, as they who in King Charles's Reign did carress the Royal-Misses to attain the Lives of their Condemn'd Friends, or some Place at Court.—
Without DEBT, AND LOAN, the Fabrick of the World will be dis-jointed and fall asunder into its first Chaos: I might first Instance, in what it owes for Drink: For (as Cowly tells us)
And if the World Runs thus in Debt for Bubb, what does it owe for its other Supports? Or rather, what does it not owe? For, first, the Beauty of the Stars, what wou'd it be but Vastness, and Deformity, if the Sun did not lend 'em Light? The Earth wou'd remain unfruitful, if it did not borrow Refreshing Dews from the Watery Signs and Planets. The Summer is pleasant, and promiseth great hopes of Plenty; but it is, because it taketh up much upon Trust from the Friendly and Seasonable Temperament of the Elements. And, to say the Truth, there is NOTHING GOOD, or GREAT in the World, but that it BORROWETH something from others, to make it Great, or lendeth to another to make it Good.—
The ELEMENTS, who are linked together by a League of Association, and by their symbolizing Qualities, do Barter, and Truck, Borrow and Lend one to another, as being (as 'twere) the ROYAL EXCHANGE OF NATURE; They are by this Traffick and Intercourse, the very LIFE AND NOURISHMENT of all Sublunary Bodies.
Well, If it be such A HAPPINESS TO BE IN DEBT, and every thing lives under a Necessity of owing something,—Then farewel Diogenes, thou SURLY CLOWN; for who ever liv'd more like a Souc'd Mackarel, amongst Men, barrelling up thy self in a Tub like a Kegg of Sturgeon, and this because thou hadst not Soul enough to treat thy Friends, or to live in Debt.
I also bid farewell to Coke, Littleton, Shephard, &c. and other Lawyers, and Molestors of Causes, who accounted as their (surviving Brethren do to this day) being in Debt a very great Evil.—
I also pity Zem's Weakness, who blush'd to borrow:— Crates Pride, for scorning to be Trusted;—and do as much despise that POET LAUREAT, who forfeited his WREATH OF BAYS (rather than owe a Farthing) and afterwards made Prayers to his Purse to supply his Wants; tho (as I've prov'd) 'TIS A HAPPINESS TO BE IN DEBT.—But let Men that either will not, or cannot be Trusted, a [...] as they please: for my own share, whilst I live, I am willing to live in Debt.—IN DEBT to the Creator of all things, for his so Curiously framing me in my Mothers Womb Psal. 139. 13. 15. In Debt to Christ, for hopes of a blessed Resurrection; and as I owe, so I will be ever ready to lose my Life for my Countries Service.—I wil owe Duty and Respect to my Wife's Mother, and shall pay it when she an swers my Just Request.—And for my FEW CREDITORS, when I've paid them (and they may depend on what I promise in my Printed Case) yet I shall ever owe them my hearty Prayers, and a Thankful Acknowledgment for their Kind Forbearance. They are so generous to consider that he that oweth Money, and cannot pay it, is an Agent for Sorrow: and 'tis my Duty to remember that he that hath it and will not pay▪ it, is a Steward for the Devil.—Then I don't see why any Man shou'd be uneasy, for I've promis'd (after I see the [Page 70] Issue of this Year) to sell even my self to the skin, rather than any Man shall lose a [...], which they will not, (If they can have Patience) but will be paid their Principal, and Interest upon Interest, if demanded. I will also owe, and be ever paying Love and Tenderness to my present Wife, and a Hearty Reconciliation when ever she Desires it.—And ere long I shall pay my GREAT DEBT UNTO NATURE which is the most Difficult Debt I have left to pay, and for that Reason I'm still Learning THE ART OF LIVING INCOGNITO; For as Philositratus liv'd Seven Years in his Tomb to acquaint himself with Death; So I shall pray that my Private Life may have the same Effect.—But wherever I end my Days, whether in a Cell or in a Publick Station, I shall there render my Spirit into the Hands of God, and bequeath my Body to be bury'd (by those I shall make my Heirs) in the New-Burying place, and in the same Grave with my first Wife, where we shall both pay THAT DEBT WE OWE TO THE WORMES (and be still happy together, if a senceless happyness can be call'd so,) and after the Wormes are satisfyed. I hope (at the General R [...]ection,) we shall both Rise together, and know and Love one another for ever, in the presence of that God, to whom we owe all we have and [...]e.—Neither has my Living in a Cell banish't the Remembrance of what I owe your Ladyship for your Ingenious Remarks on the Letters, I send ye ('tis to you, Madam, I'm Indebted for all the Pleasures I shall find in Retirement); Which I here Acknowledge with this Assurance, that the Respect Iowe your Ladyship, shall be as Immortal as the Soul of,
The LADY'S Answer to my Sixth Letter.
I Am apt to think the World must needs be surprized that any Person should have the Courage to advance any thing in favour of Debtors, the most abject Creatures in the World; that very few, while they pity and relieve 'em, but at the same [...]me, have a great de [...] of contempt for 'em. So little reflection is made upon the wise disposal of Providence, who has made us all Debtors, not having the least right to the [...]rest Blessing upon Earth; for what was given at our Creation, was forfeited by Rebellion; and we are therefore indebted to God's infinite Mercy, for all we have, Especially when we have received an ample Portion in this Life, and never suffer'd want: such Persons are so deeply indebted, that if they pay no part to those God has constituted to be his Receivers, they may Perhaps be paying it to all Eternity; but such Debtors command respect, wheree [...]er they come; for their Money is every ones Aim; it answer [...] all things; yet I see not why the Poor Debtor may not find something in his condition to be esteem'd for; since God, who permits it, has a good design in it for the teaching us many necessary Truths; tis the only Glass that shews us the true Image of our selves, and the Vain Delusions of the World.
How long do we live in the Mistake, that we are Born only for our selves▪ and what do we study more than to be, or to seem to be great, and considerable; that so we may obtain Friends, respect, and applycation, and all that flatters our Imaginations: but at last meeting with disapointments, we then perceive theres no Living with out dependance, being forc'd to seek the help and assistance of others. But miserable is their case, who applye [...] to the rich, who's tender mercies are not unlike the Ancient ROMANS, [...]ou mention: Those Laws must needs have an admirable effect of promoting Sordidness and Self-interest; for the basest crime could not be more severely punish'd, no [...] meet with a more fatal mischief then to find any one so Cruelly unkind, at [Page 71] tolay the Foundation of a Mans Misfortune and Slavery, by lending him Money: 'twere much kinder to [...]ave him to Starve in his necessity. The Makers of such Laws we may be sure would stick at nothing, that might secure 'em from those s [...]re Penalties; by which one may guess at their integrity, in Aiming so exactly at the Poor, who perhaps bears an honester mind to Pay their Debts, were it in their Power, than many of the Rich, who are of [...]n so puffed up with Pride and insolence, they frequently neglect to Pay their D [...]BTS, thinking all the World depends vpon 'em and are their Slaves. Sure no Laws could be severe enough for such, if there could be found men of sufficient Courage and Integrits to put 'em in execution
There are so many innocent ways of contracting Debts, 'tis much to be admir'd Men could be so Ignorant of the Condition of Human Life, as to insult over the misfortunes of others, and not think 'emselves as liable to 'em. But this is the priviledge Adversity carries with it, to give in Experience of our own Imbecility, and the many changes we are subjected to in this Life; which brings us to the pursuit of a more lassing Happiness in another World, and to Retirement from this, in which we find full leisure for usefull Thoughts and Reflections upon our pass'd mis [...]es: The Debtor now sees plainly there's not a weaker Threatner, nor stronger Flatterer then Fortune, while the World was his Friend, he had the same Partial Affection for it as most persons usually have for those that loves 'em, but the Treatment Debtors receive from it, soon opens their Eyes to see the change their Fortune makes in it; and can with Hannibal, resolve to follow a better Guide, that will deal more truly with 'em, and convince 'em of the HAPPYNESS OF POOR DEBTORS that can't Pay: For the World takes so many ways of payment by exposing 'em to the Publick in all ma [...]r of ill reflections, will they have given their Pride and Malice more then full Satisfaction for the want of their Money, that at last they make themselves their Debtors no less, tho' in another kind, which such an Adversity will teach 'em that Humlity to bear, and the Charity to forgive, and t [...]'s a blessed condition that brings 'em acquainted with two such Graces. And this condition is no les [...] Friend to true. Mortification, which till we have attain'd, our Soul is not in a right State, for 'tis like a Man Hen-Peck'd by his Wife, the Body domineers over the Soul, and [...]gages it in all the Follies that Cha [...]m its Br [...]ish Senses, and so ranverses all Peace and Order, till the Soul assumes its Authority by Subjecting the Body, which is so hard to do, tho' the Happiness of this Life and the Next depends upon it, One may well esteem it, the heighth of Felicity to be many condition that facilitates it; And in this consists the Debtors Priviledge, the World accounts all Favo [...] lost upon him, and so with [...]raws all Temptations, and his necessitous Fortune ours off all E [...]ess from his dep [...]ed Appetites, and the Devil will then leave him as he did Iob, [...] he had no Accomplices left to assist him▪ and so a Debtor see [...] his Th [...] Great Enemies Conquered by his Patient Suffering.
This may be every Debtors Case that Studies to gain by his Afflictions the Improvement of his Vertues, rather than give up himself to base and wicked compliance with the Rich and Powerful, or r [...]ing into vain Presumptuous Projects, in hopes of a more speedy relief; when by waiting upon God, and using only such meane as he appoints, he may expect a Blessed End of his troubles in this Life▪ or if he patiently submits to Gods Will, [...] full as [...]appy for [...] is uneasy to think others should suffer upon his acc [...]unt; yet if he spares what's possible from himself, using all the means in his power, God will not be wanting either to assist him to pay, or to support his Creditors under the loss.
This in general may be said of the Happiness of being in Debt; nor does the oddness of your CASE, exclude you from any of the Priviledges that poor Debtors enjoy, tho your Prospect is not so desperate as theirs; but no DEPENDANCE can be fix'd on in this [...] certain World, therefore must wait the issue. In the mean time, I perceive you study to pay with thanks and grateful acknowledgments, what ever you owe, or think you owe and your mistake GIVES ME A SHARE, tho' I know nothing of any such [...]retence I can have: therefore to own it, would be very unconscionable and unbecoming▪