Chapter 22: Of the Affection of Sorrow — Its Object, Causes, and Effects

The opposite passion to this of delight, is grief and sorrow, which is nothing but a perturbation and unquietness wrought by the pressure of some present evil, which the mind in vain struggles with, as finding itself alone too impotent for the conflict. Evil I say either formally, as in sin, or pain, present, or feared: or privatively, such as is any good thing which we have lost, or of which we despair, or have been disappointed. And this is in respect of its object as the former passion, either sensitive or intellectual. Sensitive is that anguish and distress of nature which lies upon the body. A passion in this sense little conducing to the advancement of nature, being always joined with some measure of its decay, but only as it serves sometimes for the better fortifying it against the same or greater evils, it being the condition as of corporeal delights, by custom to grow burdensome and distasteful, so of pains to become easy and familiar.

The other and greater grief is intellectual, which in Solomon's phrase is, a wounded spirit; so much certainly the more quick and piercing, by how much a spirit is more vital than a body, besides the anguish of the soul finds always, or works the same sympathy in the body, but outward sorrows reach not ever so far, as the spiritual and higher part of the soul. And therefore we see many men out of a mistake, that the distress of their souls has been wrought by a union to their bodies, have voluntarily spoiled this, to deliver and quiet that.

The causes of this passion, are as in the former, whatever has in it power to disturb the mind by its union to it. There are then two conditions in respect of the object, that it be evil and present. Evil first, and that not only formally in itself; but apprehensively to the understanding. And therefore we see that many things which are in their nature evil; yet out of the particular distemper of the mind, and deceitfulness in them, may prove pleasant to it. And this is the chief corruption of this passion, I mean the misplacing, or the undue suspending of it: for although strictly in its own property, it be not an advancement of nature, nor adds any perfection; but rather weakens it; yet in regard of the reference which it bears either to a superior law, as testifying our love to the obedience, by our grief for the breach thereof: or to our consequent carriage and actions, as governing them with greater wisdom and providence, it may be said to add much perfection to the mind of man, because it serves as an inducement to more cautious living.

The next condition in respect of the object, is, that it be present, which may fall out either by memory, and then our grief is called repentance: or fancy and suspicion, and so it may be called anxiety of mind: or by sense and present union, which is the principal kind, and so I call it anguish.

For the first, nothing can properly and truly work grief, by ministry of memory, when the object or evil is long since past; but those things which do withal stain our nature, and work impressions of permanent deformity. For as it falls out, that many things in their exercise pleasant, prove after in their operations offensive and burdensome: so on the other side many things which for the time of their continuance are irksome and heavy, prove yet after occasions of greater joy. Whether they be means used for the procuring of further good.

Per varios casus, per tot discrimina rerum [reconstructed: tendimus] in Latium, sedes ubi; &c. Through various great mishaps & dangers store, We hasten to our home and wished [illegible] Where fates do promise rest, where Troy revives, Only reserve yourselves for better lives.

Or whether they be evils which by our wisdom we have broken through and avoided;

[reconstructed: sed et haec] olim [reconstructed: meminisse iuvabit].

When we are arrived at ease, remembrance of a storm does please.

The objects then of repentance are not our passive, but our active evils: not the evils of suffering, but the evils of doing; for the memory of afflictions past, represents to us nature loosed and delivered, and should so much the more increase our joy, by how much redemption is for the most part a more felt blessing than immunity; but the memory of sins past represents nature obliged, guilty, and imprisoned. And so leaves a double ground for grief, the stain or pollution, and the guilt or malediction — a deformity to the law, and a curse from it. It would be improper here to wander into a digression touching repentance, only in a word it is then a godly sorrow, when it proceeds from the memory of evil; not so much in respect of the punishment as of the stain. When we grieve more because our sin has made us unholy, than because it has made us unhappy; and not only because we are run into the danger of the law, but because we are run out of the way of the law. When it teaches us to cry, not only with Pharaoh, take away this plague; but with Israel in the prophet, take away iniquity.

Concerning grief of preoccupation, arising out of a suspicious fear and expectation of evil, I know not what worth it can have in it, unless perhaps thus, that by fore-accustoming the mind to evil, it is the better strengthened to stand under it: for evils by premeditation, are either prevented or mitigated, the mind gathering strength and wisdom together to meet it. And therefore it is prudent advice of Plutarch, that we should have a prepared mind, which when any evil falls out, might not be surprised by it. To say as Anaxagoras did when he heard of the death of his son, scio me genuisse mortalem, I know that I fathered a mortal son. I know that my riches had wings, and that my comforts were mutable. Preparedness composes the mind to patience. Ulysses wept when he saw his dog, which he did not when he saw his wife: he came prepared for the one, but was surprised by the other.

Hunc ego si potui tantum sperare dolorem, Et perferre soror potero. Had I foreseen this grief, or could but fear it, I then should have composed myself to bear it.

Which is the reason why Philosophers prescribe the whole course of a Man's Life, to be only a meditation upon Death; because that being so great an evil in itself, and so sure to us, it ought to be so expected, as that it may not come sudden, and find us unprepared to meet the King of Terror. For it is in the property of custom and acquaintance, not only to alleviate and assuage evils (to which purpose Seneca speaks, perdidisti tot mala si nondum misera esse didicisti, you have lost your afflictions if they have not yet taught you to be miserable) but further as Aristotle notes, to work some manner of delight in things, at first troublesome and tedious; and therefore he reckons mourning among pleasant things, and tears are by Nature made the witnesses as well of Joy as of Grief.

[in non-Latin alphabet]

He kissed the shore, fast tears ran from his eyes, When he his native Country first espies.

And Seneca (whether Philosophically or Rhetorically) observes, that obstinacy and resolvedness in grief, does so alter the nature of it, ut fiat tandem infelicis animi prava voluptas dolor. That at length it turns into a kind of pleasant pain, sure I am the Apostle bids us count it Joy, when we fall into temptations.

The last presence of Grief was Real, when some ponderous evil either of Affliction or of Sin, the loss of some good wherein we delighted, the disappointment of some hope whereon we relied meeting with impotency in ourselves, to remove what we suffer, to recover what we lose, to supply what we want, does bruise and lie with a heavy weight upon the tenderest part of Man, his Soul and Spirit. And in this I cannot find considered merely in itself any worth at all (it being nothing else but the violation and wounding of Nature) but in order to the effects which it produces, it may have sundry denominations, either of a serviceable, or of a corrupt affection. I shall but briefly name them, and pass over to the next.

The profitable effects are principally these: First, as it is an instrument of public administration and discipline. It is as it were both a Schoolmaster and a Physician, to teach and to cure: so the Philosopher tells us, that by pleasure and pain, Children are trained up to Arts and Sciences, the Rod being to the Mind, as a Rudder to a Ship: so the Prophet David puts chastisement and instruction together: Blessed is the man whom you chasten, and teach out of your law, and again, It is good for me that I have been afflicted, that I might learn your Commandments (Psalm 94:12; Psalm 119:71; Jeremiah 22:21). Therefore God gave the Law in the Wilderness, where the people were in want and under discipline: to note that Grief is a good instrument to learning; for after in their prosperity they would not hear.

And as it is a means to teach, so it is a means to cure too; for therefore pain is usually made the matter of punishment, that as Men offend by sinful pleasure, so they may be amended by wholesome sorrow. [in non-Latin alphabet] Cures are usually wrought by contraries.

Again, it does by Experience strengthen and harden, making both wise and able, for enduring further calamities, quos Deus [reconstructed: amat], indurat & exercet. God exercises and trains those whom he loves, bringing them up non in delicijs sed in castris, not in Paradise, but in a Wilderness. Now as the Philosopher speaks, [in non-Latin alphabet]. Experience is a kind of fortitude and armor, whereby a man contemns, [in non-Latin alphabet] many things which are indeed, but terriculamenta, scarecrows to ignorant and weak minds. Whereas when pains have wrought patience, and patience experience of an issue and escape, that experience arms the Soul to more patience in new assaults. For if Gold were a rational creature, having past through the fire and kept its own Nature unviolate, it would never after be the less afraid of the fire. And as Plutarch excellently speaks, A wise Man should be like gold, to keep his Nature in the fire. Strangers dislike many things in a place, which those, that are home-born, and used to, do easily digest: thus the Apostle argues, God has delivered, and does deliver; therefore he will deliver (2 Corinthians 1:9-10). So Ulysses in Homer.

[in non-Latin alphabet].

I'll bear with a firm mind, whatever comes more, Having endured so many Griefs before.

And elsewhere in the same manner he encouraged his companions on the Sea.

[in non-Latin alphabet], etc.

Sirs, we are not now to learn what sorrows are, Having felt so many; and this now by far Comes short of that which we endured then, When the proud Cyclops shut us in his den: Yet that we escaped, he of his prey did miss, Hereafter we shall joy to think of this.

Thus as Iron which has passed through the fire, being quenched, is harder than it was before: so the Mind having passed through troubles, is the more hardened to endure them again. And therefore it is wise advice which learned Men give, to let Griefs have a time to breathe, and not to endeavor the stopping of them, while they are in Impetu, and in their first rising. As Physicians suffer humors to ripen, and gather to some head, before they apply medicines to them. When time has a little concocted Grief, and experience hardened and instructed Nature to [reconstructed: endure] it, it does then willingly admit of those remedies, which being unseasonably applied it rejects and resists.

Quis matrem nisi mentis inops in funere nati Flere vetat? non hoc illa monenda loco est. Cum dederit lachrymas animumque expleverit aegrum, Ille dolor verbis emoderandus erit. Who would forbid a Mother then to mourn, When her Son's ashes are warm in his urn? But when she's cloyed with tears, and sorrow's rage Is over, Counsel then may Grief assuage.

Whereas before it does rather exasperate than allay it. For of all passions, this of Grief does least admit of a simple cure from the dictates of Reason, except it have a time given it too, wherein it may like new Wine, defervescere, slack, and come to its just temper again.

The last profitable effect is fear and suspicion, care or solicitousness to avoid those evils which oppress our Nature; a cautious discourse and consultation of reason, how it may either escape or prevent the evils which Experience has taught it to decline, as a burnt child the fire. For all passions so long as they engage reason, and set that on work, are of good use in the minds of Men; and indeed, the counsels and communion of right reason alone, grounded on and guided by Religion, are only that Nepenthes and medicine against Grief, which whoever mixes and applies aright, shall not spend nor load himself with useless sorrow. Thus as [reconstructed: Bees] do poise themselves with little gravel stones, that they may not be carried away with the wind, which the Poet has elegantly expressed:

[illegible] As ships with ballast, so the little bee with gravel's poised, that he may steady flee.

So patience and wisdom in the bearing of one sorrow does keep the mind in a stable condition against any other. A man does never overgrieve, that keeps his mind open to counsel, and his reason to judgment above his passion.

The evil effects of grief commonly follow the excess of it, and they respect the reason, the will, and the body. In the reason, it works distractions, irresolution, and weakness by drawing the main strain of it, rather to a fearful contemplation of its own misery, than to a fruitful discourse how to avoid it. For as the motions of a wounded body, so the discourses of a wounded mind are faint, uncertain and tottering.

Secondly, in the will, it works first despair, for it being the property of grief to condense and as it were on all sides besiege the mind, the more violent the passion is, the less apparent are the passages out of it. So that in an extremity of anguish where the passages are in themselves narrow, and the reason also blind and weak to find them out, the mind is constrained — having no object but its own pain to reflect upon — to fall into a dark and fearful contemplation of its own sad estate, and marvelous high and pathetical aggravations of it, as if it were the greatest which any man felt. Not considering that it feels its own sorrow, but knows not the weight of other men's. Whereas if all the calamities of mortal men were heaped into one storehouse, and from there every man were to take an equal portion, Socrates was wont to say that each man would rather choose to go away with his own pain.

And from this it proceeds to many other effects: fury, sinful wishes and execrations both against itself and anything that concurred to its being in misery, as we see in Israel in the wilderness and that mirror of patience Job himself. And thus Homer brings in Ulysses in despair under a sore tempest bewailing himself.

[illegible]

Three times four times happy Greeks who did fall to gratify their friends under Troy wall. Oh that I there had rendered my last breath, when Trojan darts made me a mark for death. Then glorious rites my funerals had attended, but now my life will be ignobly ended.

Another evil effect is to indispose and disable for duty, both because grief does refrigerate (as the philosopher tells us) and that is the worst temper for action; and also diverts the mind from anything but that which feeds it. And therefore David in his sorrow forgot to eat his bread, because eating and refreshing of nature is a mitigating of grief, as Pliny tells us. And lastly, because it weakens, distracts and discourages the mind, making it soft and timorous, apt to bode evils to itself.

[reconstructed: Cruel grief and fear are everywhere.]

Grief and fear go usually together.

And therefore when Aeneas was to encourage his friends to patience and action, he was forced to dissemble his own sorrow.

[reconstructed: Weighed down with enormous cares, he simulates hope in his expression, suppressing deep grief in his heart.]

Although with heavy cares and doubts distressed, his looks feigned hopes and his heart's griefs suppressed.

And it is an excellent description in Homer of the fidelity of Antilochus when he was commanded to relate to Achilles the sad news of Patroclus's death.

[illegible]

When Menelaus gave him this command, Antilochus astonished did stand. Smitten with dumbness through his grief and fears, his voice was stopped, and his eyes swam in tears. Yet none of all this grief did duty stay; he left his arms whose weight might cause delay. And went, and wept and ran, with doleful word, that great Patroclus fell by Hector's sword.

In a tempest, says Seneca, that pilot is to be commended, whom the shipwreck swallows up at the stern, with the rudder in his hand.

And it was the greatest honor of Mary Magdalene, that when above all other she wept for the loss of Christ, yet then of all other she was most diligent to seek him.

Lastly, in the body there is no other passion that does produce stronger, or more lasting inconveniences by pressure of heart, obstruction of spirit, wasting of strength, dryness of bones, exhausting of nature. Grief in the heart is like a moth in a garment, which bites asunder, as it were, the strings and the strength thereof: stops the voice, loosens the joints, withers the flesh, shrivels the skin, dims the eyes, clouds the countenance, deflowers the beauty, troubles the bowels — in one word, disorders the whole frame.

Now this passion of grief is distributed into many inferior kinds: grief of sympathy for the evils and calamities of other men, as if they were our own, considering that they may likewise befall us or ours — which is called mercy; grief of repining at the good of another man, as if his happiness were our misery (as that pillar which was light to Israel to guide them was darkness to the Egyptians, to trouble and amaze them) — which is called envy; grief of fretfulness at the prosperity of evil and unworthy men, which is called indignation; grief of indigence when we find ourselves wanting those good things which others enjoy, which we envy not to them, but desire to enjoy them ourselves too — which is called emulation; grief of guilt for evil committed, which is called repentance; and grief of fear for evil expected, which is called despair. Of which to discourse would be over-tedious, and many of them are most learnedly handled by Aristotle in his Rhetoric. And therefore I will here put an end to this passion.