Complete Works of Edward Young, page 89
The ambitious thinks all happiness is derived from comparison, and that highest and happiest is the same thing: nor knows that to be high is not always to be happy; but to be happy is always and truly to be high. If his notion is right, how have the wisest of all ages and all nations been mistaken! Either they have persevered in an eternal and obstinate error in asserting content to be happiness, or he is not happy at all; for ambition imports an absence, nay, a disdain, of content; and indeed it has the glory, if it is a glory, of being far from it. Disappointment in small things gives the ambitious no small anxiety; success in great, no great satisfaction, because there remain still greater things than these; and while his heart burns at some mighty point in view, it robs him of the relish of those considerable enjoyments which nature indulges to the meanest of her children. [The spring has no beauty, the autumn has no taste; much less has wisdom, or religion. He is not altogether incapable of repenting of religion, and thinking his prayers a loss of time. Too just, I fear, is this observation, which makes a passage in Aristotle extremely remarkable, who, recounting the vices incident to the great men of his age, says: “Indevotion was not one of them; but that they were addicted to the worship of the gods, on account of the riches which they had received from them.” But to return:] The violence of the ambitious man’s desires sets him at a distance from himself; he is never at home to the present hour, but reaching and grasping at joys to come; all in possession is contemptible. To what amounts, then, his violent affection for those objects he pursues? To a strenuous endeavour, by making them his own, to render them contemptible as fast as he can; that is, he seeks at once to gain a blessing and to destroy it: nor in this only does the ambitious appear to thwart his own purposes, as will appear immediately.
But, first, let us observe, that he cannot be extremely happy in the very exercise of his dominion, that fullest gust of all his desires; when he stands surrounded with many circles of expecting, anxious beings; the whole nest gaping wide, while he can allay the cravings but of few. He has not morsels for them all. If he has any humanity, it must touch it to see himself besieged with eager visages, secret pains, repining hearts, disappointed hopes, that will strike deep into the peace of families, and carry distress beyond his knowledge, and perhaps beyond his conception of it. Or if these stings of his fellow-creatures touch him not, he is still more to be pitied.
“Seek not of the Lord pre-eminence, neither of the king in the seat of honour.” But call-in the waves of thy desire, climbing over one another for ever; bid thy proud heart be still, and say to it, “Hitherto shalt thou go, and no farther:” and let it, at least, have the bounds of the ocean, as well as the tumult of it.
[Among ambition’s temporal evils (for of those only I speak) must be numbered the terribleness of its fall, which the scripture sets in the strongest light. (This digression, which was excluded from the edition of 1762, and from all subsequently published, is found in the early octavo impressions. The topic was a favourite one with our author, whose first ideas, I think, will be found in the 87th Number of “The Plain Dealer,” edited by his friend Aaron Hill. In the commencement of the letter he says, “The Wise Author of nature gave us passions for a noble end; and, to defend us from excess, our understandings were conferred, to regulate them; and, lest all should prove deficient, out of His overflowing goodness He enriched us with a revelation. The eternal truths of the Christian religion cast a shade upon the finest and most exalted productions of human literature: which remark has been frequently brought as a defence of its Divine original, and is really a very strong argument” See the author’s note, p. 362.) It shows it in a flame of eloquence: in its style of denunciation against it, it shakes heaven, earth, and hell; and shall it not shake the heart of man? Give me leave to set down at large one remarkable instance of this, collected from the scriptures.
[I shall place the woe of Babylon in this order: God’s threatening, His word of command, the execution, the reflection, the consequence, the triumph.
[“O earth, earth, hear the word of the Lord, who is clothed in a vesture dipped in blood, and out of His mouth goeth a sharp two-edged sword, and His countenance shineth as the sun in his strength. Put yourselves in array against Babylon, round about. O thou most proud! behold, I am against thee. Thou hast hardened thy heart in pride. Thou hast provoked the eyes of my glory. Though thou shouldst mount up to heaven, and fortify the height of thy strength; though thou shouldst exalt thyself as an eagle, and build thy nest among the stars, I will bring thee down. O how lofty are thy eyes! O thou who dwellest on many waters! abundant in treasure! thy end is come. There shall be time no longer with thee. I have the keys of hell, and of death. Though thou art a fair cedar of Lebanon; though the fowls of heaven make their nest in thy boughs, and under thy shadow dwell all great nations, and thy roots drink many rivers, and all the trees of the garden of God envy the multitude of thy branches, thou shalt be but a fading flower. I will tread the wine-press of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God. Wherefore gloriest thou thyself in thy valleys, thy flowing valleys, thou backsliding daughter? Though thou fillest the face of the world with cities, though thou clothest thyself with crimson, and deckest thee with ornaments of gold, and thy face with painting; in vain thou makest thyself fair, thy lovers shall seek thy life. The ambassadors of peace shall weep bitterly. Woe to the multitude that makes a noise, like the noise of the seas; and to the rushing of nations, like the rushing of many waters. I will cause the arrogancy of the proud to cease, and lay low the haughtiness of the terrible. Though thou art as a young lion of the nations, and as a whale in the seas, they shall bring thee up in my net.
They shall set thee a bed in the midst of the slain; thy graves shall be round about thee; because thy children are grown fat, as heifers at grass, and bellow as bulls. I will set my terrors in array against thee, the arrows of the Almighty shall be in thee, they shall drink up thy spirits. Though all people, nations, and languages tremble before thee, I will smite thy bow from thy left hand, and the arrows from thy right. Give wings to Babylon, that she may fly: in vain! the lame shall take the prey. I will lay thy flesh upon the mountains, and fill the valleys with thy height I will water with blood the land wherein thou swimmest, the rivers shall be full of thee. The beasts of the field, and the feathered fowl, shall assemble to the sacrifice on the mountain: they shall eat the flesh and drink the blood of princes; they shall be filled at my table with horses, and chariots, and mighty men of war. Though thou diggest into hell, my hand shall take thee thence; though thou climbest up to heaven, thence will I bring thee down; though thou hidest in the bottom of the sea, I will command my serpent to bite thee there. I will send up many hunters against thee, and they shall pursue thee from hill to hill, from mountain to mountain; they shall roll thee down the rocks. Thou shalt not lift thyself up in thy brigandine, thy tackling shall be loosed; thou shalt not strengthen the mast, nor spread the sail; there is a cry in the ships, though thy ship-board is the fir-tree of Senir, and thy mast the cedar of Lebanon, thine oars the oak of Bashan, and though the Ashurites have made thy benches of ivory; thy sail fine linen with broidered work from Egypt, blue and purple from the isles of Elishah; Zidon and Arvad thy mariners, and thy pilots wise men. Wilt thou say before Him that slayeth thee, ‘I am a god?’ And when in the fire of my wrath I put thee out, I will cover the heavens, and make the stars dark: the moon shall be confounded, and the sun ashamed; I will shake the firmament, and the earth shall be moved out of her place; hell from beneath shall be moved for thee, to meet thy coming; it shall stir up the dead, the chief ones of the earth; and raise from their thrones all the kings of the nations. The whole creation shall groan! Thy stare shall fall down round about thee, and be stamped on the earth.
[“The Lord maketh His arm bare, He hath opened His armoury, and brought forth the weapons of His indignation; His glittering spear, and His shield, and His chariots, from between two mountains, two mountains of brass. The pestilence goeth before Him, and behind Him a flaming fire. He cometh up like a lion from the swelling of Jordan; in the glory of His majesty He ariseth to shake terribly the earth. The Lord mustereth the host to battle. Lift ye up a banner on the high mountain! Exalt the voice! Shake the hand! Harness the horses! Get up the horsemen! Stand forth with the helmet! Put on the brigandines! Prepare thee! Stand fast! Go up, O Elam! Besiege, O Media! Ye kingdoms of Ararat, Minni, and Ashchenaz! Ye are my battle-axe. Come up, ye horses, and rage, ye chariots; and let the mighty men come forth! Make bright the arrows, and gather the shields! Arise, ye princes, and anoint the buckler! Set up a standard on the walls! Make the watch strong! Prepare the ambush! Cast up a bank! Call the archers! Spare no arrows! Set the engines of war against her wall! With axes break down her towers! Burst her bars, her pillars of iron, and her walls of brass! A sword, a sword is sharpened! Ah! it is made bright! It is wrapped up for the slaughter! Their horses’ hoofs are like flint, and their wheels like a whirlwind. Their arrows are sharp, their bows bent; the quiver rattles against thee. The valleys are full of chariots, the horsemen set themselves in array at the entering of the gates. The snorting of the horses is heard from Media; the whole land trembles at the neighing of the strong. Nations lift up a shout against her, they set their thrones before her gates. They roar like a lion, like a young lion; they roar like the roaring of the sea. No man shall spare his brother. Cursed is he who keepeth back his sword from blood!
[“Lo! the shield of the mighty is made red, the valiant are in scarlet. The chariots are with flaming torches, the fir-trees are terribly shaken. They rage in the streets, they jostle one another in the broad ways, they run like lightnings, — the prancing horses, and jumping chariots! The horse is struck with astonishment, and the rider with madness. A day of wrath and distress, of desolation and darkness, of the trumpet and alarm! All hands are faint, and every heart melts. Their children are dashed to pieces before their eyes, their houses spoiled, their wives ravished, their women with child are ripped up. The blood of the souls of the innocents is upon them. Watchman! what of the night! Watchman! what of the night? Inquire! Return! Come! One post runs to meet another, and one messenger to meet another, to tell the king of Babylon that his city is taken at one end, that the passages are stopped, the reeds burnt with fire, the men of war affrighted. They scale the wall, they climb the houses, death comes in at his windows, like a thief. The gates of the rivers are opened, the palace is dissolved. Pangs take hold on them, as on a woman in travail. They are amazed, their faces are as flames. They are fed with their own flesh, and drunken with their own blood, as with sweet wine. Howl, O gate! Cry, O city! Bel boweth down! Nebo stoopeth! Merodach is confounded! They stoop, they bow down together. Thou saidst, I shall sit a lady for ever, I shall not be a widow. Lo! thy sons have fainted, they lie at the heads of all the streets, like a wild bull in a net: they are full of the fury of the Lord. The sword devours, it is satiate, it is drunk with blood. At the stamping of the hoofs of the strong horses, at the rushing of the chariots, and the rumbling of the wheels, the fathers look not back for their children. The mighty stumbleth against the mighty, and both fall together. They roar as lions, and yell as lion’s whelps. Her broad walls are utterly broken, her high gates are burned with fire: in fire her people labour; and labour in vain! Her mighty men are taken, their bows are broken; I have made her princes, her wise, and her mighty, drunk with the cup of trembling. They sleep a perpetual sleep. O thou sword of the Lord! how long will it be before thou art quiet? Put up thyself in the scabbard; rest; and be still!
[“My sword is filled with blood; it is fat; it is bathed in heaven. With the sole of my feet have I dried up all the waters of besieged places. How the hammer of the whole earth is broken! Babylon is fallen! is fallen! She that was great among the nations, and princess among the provinces! The glory of dominion! The beauty of the Chaldees’ excellency! The golden city, that went out by thousands! The crown of pride! Alas! alas! that mighty city, that was clothed with fine linen, purple, and scarlet, and decked with gold, precious stones, and pearls! She who was called the lady of kingdoms! That crowning city, whose merchants were princes, and her traffickers the honourable of the earth. That was as a golden cup in the hand of the Lord, with which He made drunk the princes of the earth, and the nations mad. Thy pomp, and the sound of thy viol, is brought down to the grave; the worms are spread over thee. Thou art become an astonishment, and all that pass by hiss at thee. Thy pile is deep and large, of fire and much wood, and the breath of the Lord, like a stream of brimstone, hath kindled it: the breath of the Lord, whose fire is in Zion, and His furnace in Jerusalem. Thy Tophet shall not be quenched, night nor day; the smoke of it shall go up for ever, and for ever. Wild beasts of the islands shall cry in thy desolate houses, and doleful creatures in thy pleasant palaces; satyrs shall dance there, they shall cry to their fellows. It shall be an habitation of dragons, and the court of owls. A wolf of the evening shall spoil thee, and a leopard shall watch over thy city.
[“Thy king spake, and said: Is not this great Babylon which I have built, for the house of the kingdom, by the might of my power, and for the honour of my majesty? I will ascend into heaven; I will exalt my throne above the stars of God; I will be like the Most High. How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! Is this he that weakened the nations, destroyed cities, held princes prisoners, shook kingdoms, made the earth tremble, and the world a wilderness?
[“Thou art cast out of thy very grave. Thy bones shall be spread before the sun, and the moon, the queen of heaven, which thou lovedst, and before all the host of heaven, which thou worshippedst. Thy name, remnant, son, and nephew, are cut off. Thy voice shall come out of the ground, like the voice of one that has a familiar spirit, and shall whisper out of the dust. Thy sons are gone down to hell with their weapons of war, they have laid their swords under their heads; but their iniquity shall be upon their bones, though they were the terror of the mighty in the land of the living.
[“A mighty angel took a stone, like a great mill-stone, and threw it into the sea, saying, Thus shall the great Babylon be thrown down with violence, and shall be found no more for ever. O ye heavens, be astonished at this! Sing, O ye heavens! for the Lord hath done it: let the morning stars sing together, and all the sons of God shout for joy. Allelujah! Allelujah! In a voice, as of a great multitude, as of many waters, as of mighty thunderings, Allelujah! Amen, Allelujah! The Lord God Omnipotent reigneth!”
[Let no man imagine, as some seem to do, that the excellency of his understanding hinders him from believing a revelation, if he finds not something beyond all human composition in this. What fire, what rapidity, what elevation, what enthusiasm, what picture, what propriety, what opulence, what fancy, what energy, what non imitabile fuir men, is here! How arousing, how Divine, but how terrifying too, is this! And [may] its sacred Inspirer forbid that the ambitious should read it for their pleasure only! The fall of ambition is not only possible, but probable; nay, the wisest of men says, “He that exalteth his gate seeketh his fall.” And an author of great name, when he is prescribing rules for the ambitious, says, that the best rule that can be given them is, to prepare for a change of fortune. Nebuchadnezzar, Julius, Sejanus, Wolsey, are only leading instances of fallen stars; countless multitudes have been involved in the like calamity, from the same cause, and fill up the terror of these notorious warnings to the pride of man.
[On what did Nebuchadnezzar, on what does any of his successors in ambition, set their hearts? On little things. Let any one remove his eye from the most magnificent parade, or triumph, to the expanse of heaven; and instantly, what was great is little, what was public is private. The trumpet, the plume, all that can enter at sense on the face of the earth, seems annihilated; and to dwell on it seems creeping into a by-path, a digression from the grandeur of our nature, and the true majesty of life. Let not this be thought extravagant: it is strictly just And perhaps the best reason why a great part of the creation, which seems of little or no influence to our well-being, is notwithstanding within the compass of our observation, is, that it should lift the thought, expand the soul, disparage the littleness of things below, and inflame us with reflections of a similar nature to this.
[But to come close to the point.]
What does the ambitious man aim it? At dominion, principality, and power; at governing nations, and making his name great in the earth. “And who but the pusillanimous and base shall censure him for this? Whatever his errors are, does he not show, at least, a grandeur of deportment, and a magnanimity of heart?” Neither, but altogether the reverse.
For, first, as to magnanimity. There is a meanness of spirit in passionately desiring those things the contempt of which requires a greater effort of mind, that is, a greater magnanimity, and bestows a fuller happiness, than the possession of them. Magnanimity is a resolution able to comply with the dictates of reason when most difficult: if, therefore, ambition is unreasonable, as I have shown, it must be pusillanimous; I will not, therefore, call the ambitious an unhappy or a guilty, as I might, but, what will touch him nearer, I will call him a little, man; and if that does touch him nearer, it will be a new argument to prove that I call him so with the greatest truth.
As to the second, the grandeur of his deportment; that is, his distance from subjection and servility. What, then, if it should appear that no man is so much a slave? Dominion over others is indeed his aim; but by that very aim he most effectually subjects himself to them. Every one that can retard or promote his purposes, has an awe over him; is the object of his anxious application and servile fear; disciplines his deportment and pains his mind. Not to expect, is the only means to be free; and he is all expectation, that is, all slavery, while dominion, nay, became dominion, is his only aim. And thus it fares with all irregular pursuits of happiness: they contradict the purpose of God, and therefore must counteract themselves; for God will not be controlled. He has assigned other means of happiness; and, to convince us of it most strongly, they that make not use of His means, but their own, to that end, shall not only fail of it, but their endeavours shall be their hinderance; shall work them backwards, and set them at a greater distance from it. Thus the voluptuary just mentioned, while he too warmly pursues the objects, most effectually blunts the powers, of appetite. The covetous, while he inordinately desires to become rich, though he succeeds in all his attempts, he fails of his end; nay, fails of it by that success: Clod, to chastise, and, as it were, to insult him too, gives him the thing, but withholds the enjoyment; nay, commands abundance, to make him poor. Thus, and thus only, can that miraculous conduct of the covetous be accounted for, of whom, Thirdly, I am about to speak. The covetous strongly exposes human nature, by showing us an instance in one person how much she desires, and how little she wants. For who subsists on so little? Who grasps at so much? He mistakes the means for the end; money for enjoyment; nay, the means in his hands make against his end, and the power of enjoying is an inducement to self-denial. The gold that comes into his possession but changes its mine, and is farther from the light than ever. His impiety and his folly are equally gross. As to the first, he is often, in scripture, called “an idolater,” because he worships his wealth: as to the second, that his idol, like other idols of old, requires severer service of him than the true God; more rigid austerities than religion enjoins. His toils, his self-denials, his fervent devotion to gain, is greater than that which might carry him to heaven. Covetousness is nothing but the painful art of making industry sinful, wealth indigent, [influence dishonourable,] life sordid, death terrible, and heirs ungrateful, without any manner of guilt.
