Of Curiosity, or an Over-Busy Inquisitiveness into Things Impertinent. (1-5)

But now, as the poets feign concerning Lamia, that upon her going to bed she lays aside her eyes among the attirements of her dressing-box, and is at home for the most part blind and drowsy too, and puts on her eyes only when she goes abroad a gadding; so it is with most men, who, through a kind of an affected ignorance and artificial blindness, commonly blunder and stumble at their own threshold, are the greatest strangers to their own personal defects, and of all others least familiarly acquainted with their own domestic ills and follies. But when they look abroad, their sight is sharpened with all the watchful and laborious curiosity imaginable, which serves as deforming spectacles to an evil eye, that is already envenomed by the malignity of a worse nature.

And hence it is, that a person of this busy meddlesome disposition is a greater friend to them he hates than to himself; for overlooking his own concerns, through his

being so heedfully intent on those of other men, he reproves and exposes their miscarriages, admonishes them of the errors and follies they ought to correct, and affrights them into greater caution for the future; so that not only the careless and unwary, but even the more sober and prudent persons, may gain no small advantage from the im pertinence and ill-nature of inquisitive people.

It was a remarkable instance of the prudence of Ulysses, that, going into the regions of departed souls, he would not exchange so much as one word with his mother there till he had first obtained an answer from the oracle and despatched the business he came about; and then, turning to her, he afforded some small time for a few impertinent questions about the other women upon the place, asking which was Tyro, and which the fair Chloris, and concerning the unfortunate Epicasta, why,

Noosed to a lofty beam, she would suspended die.[*]

But we through extreme sloth and ignorance, being stupidly careless of our own affairs, must be idly spending our time and talk either about our neighbor’s pedigree, how that such a one had a tapster for his grandfather, and that his grandmother was a laundress; or that another owes three or four talents, and is not able to pay the interest. Nay, and such trivial stuff as this we busy ourselves about,—where such a man’s wife has been all this while; and what it was, that this and the other fellow have been talking of in a corner. But the wise Socrates employed his curiosity to better purpose, when he went about enquiring by what excellent precepts Pythagoras obtained so great authority among his followers; and Aristippus, meeting Ischomachus at the Olympic games, asked him what those notions were with which Socrates had so powerfully charmed the minds of his young scholars; upon the slight information whereof, he was so passionately inflamed with a desire of going to Athens, that he grew pale and lean, and almost languished till he came to drink of the fountain itself, and had been acquainted with the person of Socrates, and more fully learned that philosophy of his, the design of which was to teach men how to discover their own ills and apply proper remedies to them.

But to some sort of men their own life and actions would appear the most unpleasant spectacle in the world, and therefore they fly from the light of their conscience, and cannot bear the torture of one reflecting thought upon themselves; for when the soul, being once defiled with all manner of wickedness, is scared at its own hideous deformity, it endeavors to run from itself, and ranging here and there, it pampers its own malignity with malicious speculations on the ills of others.

It is observed of the lien that, loathing the plenty of meat that is cast before her on a clean floor, she will be scratching in a hole or spurning the dunghill, in search of one single musty grain. So these over-busy people, neglecting such obvious and common things into which any man may enquire and talk of without offence, cannot be satisfied unless they rake into the private and concealed evils of every family in the neighborhood. It was smartly said by the Egyptian, who, being asked what it was he carried so closely, replied, it was therefore covered that it might be secret. Which answer will serve to check the curiosity of those impertinent men who will be always peeping into the privacies of others; for assuredly there is nothing usually more concealed than what is too foul to be seen; nor would it be kept so close, were it either fit or safe it should be known. Without knocking at the door, it is great rudeness to enter another’s house, and therefore in former times were rappers fitted to the

gates, that by the noise thereof notice might be given to the family; for the same purpose are porters appointed now, lest, a stranger coming in unawares, the mistress or daughter of the family might be surprised busy or undressed, or a servant be seen under correction, or the maids be overheard in the heat of their scolding. But a person of this prying busy temper, who would disdain the being invited to a sober and well-governed house, will yet even forcibly intrude himself as a spy into the indecencies of private families; and he pries into those very things which locks, bolts, and doors were intended to secure from common view, for no other end but to discover them to all the world. Aristo said that those winds were the most troublesome which blew up one’s garments and exposed one’s nakedness; but these inquisitive people deprive us of all the shelter or security of walls and doors, and like the wanton air, which pervades the veil and steals through the closest guards of virgin modesty, they insinuate into those divertisements which are hidden in the retirements of the night, and strip men even to their very skin.

So that—as it is merrily said by the comedian concerning Cleon, that his hands were in Aetolia, and his soul in Thieftown[*]—the hands and feet, eyes and thoughts of inquisitive persons are straggling about in many places at once. Neither the mansions of the great, nor the cottages of the poor, nor the privy chambers of princes, nor the recesses of the nuptial alcove, can escape the search of their curiosity; they are familiar to the affairs of strangers, and will be prying into the darkest mysteries of state, although it be to the manifest peril of their being ruined by it. For as to him that will be curiously examining the virtues of medicinal herbs, the unwary taste of a venomous plant conveys a deleterious impression upon the brain, before its noxious quality can be discerned

by the palate; so they that boldly pry into the ills of great persons usually meet with their own destruction, sooner than they can discover the dangerous secret they enquire after. And so it happens that, when the rashly curious eye, not contented to expatiate in the free and boundless region of reflected light, will be gazing at the imperial seat of brightness, it becomes a sacrifice to the burning rays, and straight sinks down in penal darkness.

It was therefore well said by Philippides the comedian, who, being asked by King Lysimachus what he desired might be imparted to him, replied, Any thing but a secret. And indeed, those things in the courts of princes that are most pleasant in themselves and most delightful to be known,—such as balls, magnificent entertainments, and all the shows of pomp and greatness,—are exposed to common view, nor do they ever hide those divertisements and enjoyments which are the attendants of a prosperous estate; but in what cases soever they seem reserved,—as when they are conceiving some high displeasure, or contriving the methods of a revenge, or raging under a fit of jealousy, or suspicious of the disloyal practices of their children, or dubious concerning the treachery of a favorite,—come not near nor intermeddle, for every thing is of a dreadful aspect and of very dangerous access that is thus concealed. Fly from so black a cloud, whose darkness condenses into a tempest; and it will be time enough, when its fury breaks forth with flash and thunder, for thee to observe upon whose head the mischief falls.