[1902]———brevis illa voluptas
Abrogat aeternum caeli decus———
SUBSECT. XIV.—Philautia, or Self-love, Vainglory, Praise, Honour, Immoderate Applause, Pride, overmuch Joy, &c., Causes.
Self-love, pride, and vainglory, [1903]caecus amor sui, which Chrysostom calls one of the devil's three great nets; [1904]“Bernard, an arrow which pierceth the soul through, and slays it; a sly, insensible enemy, not perceived,” are main causes. Where neither anger, lust, covetousness, fear, sorrow, &c., nor any other perturbation can lay hold; this will slyly and insensibly pervert us, Quem non gula vicit, Philautia, superavit, (saith Cyprian) whom surfeiting could not overtake, self-love hath overcome. [1905]“He hath scorned all money, bribes, gifts, upright otherwise and sincere, hath inserted himself to no fond imagination, and sustained all those tyrannical concupiscences of the body, hath lost all his honour, captivated by vainglory.” Chrysostom, sup. Io. Tu sola animum mentemque peruris, gloria. A great assault and cause of our present malady, although we do most part neglect, take no notice of it, yet this is a violent batterer of our souls, causeth melancholy and dotage. This pleasing humour; this soft and whispering popular air, Amabilis insania; this delectable frenzy, most irrefragable passion, Mentis gratissimus error, this acceptable disease, which so sweetly sets upon us, ravisheth our senses, lulls our souls asleep, puffs up our hearts as so many bladders, and that without all feeling, [1906]insomuch as “those that are misaffected with it, never so much as once perceive it, or think of any cure.” We commonly love him best in this [1907]malady, that doth us most harm, and are very willing to be hurt; adulationibus nostris libentur facemus (saith [1908] Jerome) we love him, we love him for it: [1909]O Bonciari suave, suave fuit a te tali haec tribui; 'Twas sweet to hear it. And as [1910]Pliny doth ingenuously confess to his dear friend Augurinus, “all thy writings are most acceptable, but those especially that speak of us.” Again, a little after to Maximus, [1911]“I cannot express how pleasing it is to me to hear myself commended.” Though we smile to ourselves, at least ironically, when parasites bedaub us with false encomiums, as many princes cannot choose but do, Quum tale quid nihil intra se repererint, when they know they come as far short, as a mouse to an elephant, of any such virtues; yet it doth us good. Though we seem many times to be angry, [1912] “and blush at our own praises, yet our souls inwardly rejoice, it puffs us up;” 'tis fallax suavitas, blandus daemon, “makes us swell beyond our bounds, and forget ourselves.” Her two daughters are lightness of mind, immoderate joy and pride, not excluding those other concomitant vices, which [1913]Iodocus Lorichius reckons up; bragging, hypocrisy, peevishness, and curiosity.
Now the common cause of this mischief, ariseth from ourselves or others, [1914]we are active and passive. It proceeds inwardly from ourselves, as we are active causes, from an overweening conceit we have of our good parts, own worth, (which indeed is no worth) our bounty, favour, grace, valour, strength, wealth, patience, meekness, hospitality, beauty, temperance, gentry, knowledge, wit, science, art, learning, our [1915] excellent gifts and fortunes, for which, Narcissus-like, we admire, flatter, and applaud ourselves, and think all the world esteems so of us; and as deformed women easily believe those that tell them they be fair, we are too credulous of our own good parts and praises, too well persuaded of ourselves. We brag and venditate our [1916]own works, and scorn all others in respect of us; Inflati scientia, (saith Paul) our wisdom, [1917]our learning, all our geese are swans, and we as basely esteem and vilify other men's, as we do over-highly prize and value our own. We will not suffer them to be in secundis, no, not in tertiis; what, Mecum confertur Ulysses? they are Mures, Muscae, culices prae se, nits and flies compared to his inexorable and supercilious, eminent and arrogant worship: though indeed they be far before him. Only wise, only rich, only fortunate, valorous, and fair, puffed up with this tympany of self-conceit; [1918]as that proud Pharisee, they are not (as they suppose) “like other men,” of a purer and more precious metal: [1919]Soli rei gerendi sunt efficaces, which that wise Periander held of such: [1920]meditantur omne qui prius negotium, &c. Novi quendam (saith [1921]Erasmus) I knew one so arrogant that he thought himself inferior to no man living, like [1922]Callisthenes the philosopher, that neither held Alexander's acts, or any other subject worthy of his pen, such was his insolency; or Seleucus king of Syria, who thought none fit to contend with him but the Romans. [1923]Eos solos dignos ratus quibuscum de imperio certaret. That which Tully writ to Atticus long since, is still in force. [1924]“There was never yet true poet nor orator, that thought any other better than himself.” And such for the most part are your princes, potentates, great philosophers, historiographers, authors of sects or heresies, and all our great scholars, as [1925]Hierom defines; “a natural philosopher is a glorious creature, and a very slave of rumour, fame, and popular opinion,” and though they write de contemptu gloriae, yet as he observes, they will put their names to their books. Vobis et famae, me semper dedi, saith Trebellius Pollio, I have wholly consecrated myself to you and fame. “'Tis all my desire, night and day, 'tis all my study to raise my name.” Proud [1926]Pliny seconds him; Quamquam O! &c. and that vainglorious [1927]orator is not ashamed to confess in an Epistle of his to Marcus Lecceius, Ardeo incredibili cupididate, &c. “I burn with an incredible desire to have my [1928]name registered in thy book.” Out of this fountain proceed all those cracks and brags,—[1929]speramus carmina fingi Posse linenda cedro, et leni servanda cupresso—[1930]Non usitata nec tenui ferar penna.—nec in terra morabor longius. Nil parvum aut humili modo, nil mortale loquor. Dicar qua violens obstrepit Ausidus.—Exegi monumentum aere perennius. Iamque opus exegi, quod nec Jovis ira, nec ignis, &c. cum venit ille dies, &c. parte tamen meliore mei super alta perennis astra ferar, nomenque erit indelebile nostrum. (This of Ovid I have paraphrased in English.)
And when I am dead and gone,
My corpse laid under a stone
My fame shall yet survive,
And I shall be alive,
In these my works for ever,