CHAPTER XXVI – 9. Self-denial in apparel
part with a sumptuous house, and commodious gardens, walks, and fields, than with a mean habitation, and less pleasing things?' O, how it tears the very heart of the worldling, when he sees that he must for ever leave all that which he set so much by, and which hath cost him so dear! If he set his heart but on a horse, or any creature, the loss of it is a double suffering. Much more will he be wounded with the loss of all, that his mind was so much set upon.
Remember, therefore, Christians, that as these accommodations are mercies which you must faithfully use, when they are cast upon you; so they are snares not to be sought after; and matter for your selfdenial to neglect. As they are provision for the flesh to fulfil its desires, you must not know them. You have a building of God to mind and look after; a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens, and it better beseemeth you, earnestly to groan, to be so clothed, that mortality may be swallowed up of life, 2 Cor. 5:1, 2. 4.
Possess present things as not possessing them; and use them as not abusing them, for the form of them passeth away.
CHAPTER XXVI
Apparel as used for this Carnal End, &c.
9. ANOTHER object of sensuality to be denied, is apparel, as desired for this carnal end. Though clothing be a consequent of sin, yet now to man in this necessity it is a mercy and a duty, so be it we use it with such cautions as in the foresaid cases is expressed. 1. That our end be the furnishing our frail bodies for the work of God, and the preserving them from that shame, and cold, and hurt which would unfit us for his service. 2. And that our apparel be fitted as near as we
can to these ends; that is, to healthful warmth, and comeliness; and that under the name of comeliness we do not fit them to carnal ends, to set us out to the eyes of men, and to raise their esteem of our worth or comeliness of person: but be satisfied if we avoid the shame of nakedness and contemptible unhandsomeness. 3. To which end we should see that we affect not to rise above those of our own rank, nor equal ourselves in apparel with our superiors; but go with the lower sort of our condition. 4. And that we imitate not the fashions of light and vain persons; but keep company in our attire with the most wise and sober, and grave persons about us. 5. And that we bestow no needless cost upon our attire, because we must be accountable for all that God entrusteth us with. 6. And that we change not causelessly. Thus must apparel be used: the cheapest that is warm and comely, according to the fashion of the gravest persons of our rank, and the lowest of them.
But alas, this childish trifle the devil hath made a bait of sensuality.
The care that people have about it, the cost they bestow on superfluities, their desire to go with the highest of their rank, to say nothing of mutable and immodest fashions, do shew to what end it is that they use it. I desire these kind of people to think of these few things that I shall say to them.
1. This vanity of apparel, is the certain effect of the vanity of your mind; you openly proclaim yourselves to be persons of a foolish, childish temper, and poor understanding: among the most ungodly people, they that have but common wisdom, do look upon this vanity of inordinate apparel as quite below them. And therefore it is commonly taken to be the special sin of women, and children, and lightheaded, silly, empty men. Those that have no inward worth to
commend them to the world, are silly souls indeed, if they think any wise folks will take a silken coat instead of it! It is wisdom, and holiness and righteousness, that are the ornaments of man; and that is his beauty which beautifieth his soul. And do you think that among wise men fine clothes will go instead of wisdom, or virtue, or holiness? You may put as fine clothes upon a fool as upon a wise man; and will that, think you, make him pass for wise? When a gallant came into the shop of Apelles, that famous painter, to have his picture drawn, as long as he stood silent, the apprentices carried themselves reverently towards him, because he shone in gold and silver lace; but when he began to talk, they perceived he was a fool, and they left their reverence, and all fell a laughing at him. When people see you in an extraordinary garb, you draw their observation towards you, and one asketh, who is yonder that is so fine? And another asks, who is yonder? And when they perceive that you are more witless and worthless than other folks, they will but laugh at you and despise you. Excess in apparel is the very sign of folly, that is hanged out to tell the world what you are, as a sign at an inn-door acquaints the passenger that there he may have entertainment. You draw folks to suspect that all is not well with you, where there needs all this ado. It is sure a sorry house that needeth many props; and a diseased body that needeth so much medicining; and a deformed face that needeth painting; and what is gaudy attire to the body, but such as painting is to the face? If I see artificial teeth in your heads, I must think that you want natural ones that were better. If I perceive your breath to be still sweetened by art, I shall suspect that it would stink without it. And if I see people inordinately careful of their apparel, I must needs suspect there is some special cause for it: all is not well where all this care and curiosity is necessary. And what is
the deformity that you would hide by this? Is it that of your mind?
Why you bewray it more? You tell all that see you, that you are empty, silly souls, as plainly as a morrice-dancer, or a stage-player, doth tell folks what he is by his attire. Is it the deformities of your bodies that you would hide this way? I confess, that is the best excuse that can be made for this excess: for apparel will do more to hide the deformities of the body than of the mind. But the shape of your clothes is fittest for this (so far it is fit to be attempted:) for the bravery of them will do little, but draw men's observation the more upon your infirmity. If you say that you have no such extraordinary necessity, then I must say that you do yourselves wrong to entice people to suspect it.
2. And also you make an open ostentation of pride, or lust, or both, to all that look upon you. In other cases you are careful to hide your sin, and take it for an heinous injury if you be but openly told of it and reproved: how comes it then to pass that you are here so forward yourselves to make it known, that you must carry the signs of it open in the world! Is it not a dishonour to rogues and thieves, that have been burnt in the hand or forehead, or must ride about with a paper pinned to their backs, declaring their crimes to all that see them; so that every one may say, yonder is a thief, and yonder is a perjured man: and is it not much like it for you to carry the badge of pride or lust abroad with you in the open streets or meetings? Why do you desire to be so fine, or neat, or excessively comely? Is it not to draw the eyes and observations of men upon you? And to what end? Is it not to be thought either rich, or beautiful, or of a handsome person?
And to what end desire you these thoughts of men? Do you not know that this desire is pride itself? You must needs be somebody, and fain you would be observed and valued; and fain you would be noted to
be of the best or highest rank that you can expect to be reckoned of: and what is this but pride? And I hope you know that pride is the devil's sin, the firstborn of all iniquity; and that which the God of heaven abhors! so that it were more credit for you in the eyes of men of wisdom to proclaim youselves beggars, sots, or idiots, than to proclaim your pride. And too oft it shews a pang of lust as well as pride; especially in young persons; and few are so forward to this sin as they. This bravery and finery is but the fruit of a procacious mind; it is plainly a wooing, alluring act. It is not for nothing that they would fain be eyed, and be thought comely or fair in others' eyes!
Somewhat they want; you may conjecture what! And even married people, if they love their credit, should take heed by such means of drawing suspicion upon themselves. Sirs, if you are guilty of folly, pride and lust, your best way is to seek of God an effectual cure, and to use such means as tends to cure it; and not such as tend to cherish it, and increase it; as certainly fineness in clothing doth. But if you will not cure it, for shame conceal it, and do not tell every one that sees you what is in your heart: what would you think of one that should go up and down the street, telling all that meet him, 'I am a thief,' or 'I am a fornicator,' would you not think that he were a compound of foolery and knavery? And how little do you come short of this that write upon your own backs, 'Folly, pride and lust,' or tell them by your apparel, 'Take notice of me: I am foolish, proud, and lustful?'
3. And if you be so silly as to think that bravery is a means of honour, you should withal consider that it is but a shameful begging of honour from those that look upon you, when you shew them not any thing to purchase or deserve it. Honour must be forced by desert and worth, and not come by begging; for that is no honour that is given to
the undeserving. It is but the shadow of desert, and will constantly follow it among the wise and good, but never go without it. Your bravery doth so openly shew your desire of esteem and honour, that it plainly tells all wise men that you are the less worthy of it. For the more a man desireth esteem, the less he deserves it. And you tell the world by your attire that you desire it; even as plainly and foolishly as if you should say to the folks in the streets, 'I pray think well of me, and take me for a handsome, comely person, and for one that is above the common sort.' Would you not laugh at one that should make such a request to you? Why, what do you less, when by your attire you beg estimation from them? And for what, I pray you, should we esteem you? Is it for your clothes? Why I can put a silver lace upon a mawkin, or a silken coat on a post, or an ass. Is it for your comely bodies? Why a wicked Absalom was beautiful, and the basest harlots have had as much of this as you: a comely body, or beautiful face doth oft betray the soul, but never saveth it from hell.
And your bodies are never the comlier for you dress, whatever they may seem. Is it for your virtues that you would be esteemed? Why pride is the greatest enemy to virtue, and as great a deformity to the soul as the small-pox is to the body; and he that will think you ever the honester for a new suit, or a silver lace, doth as little know what honesty is as yourselves. For shame, therefore, give over begging for esteem, at least by such a means as inviteth all wise men to deny your suit; but either let honour come without begging for, or be without it.
4. Consider also that excess of apparel doth quite contradict the end that proud persons do intend it for. I confess it doth sometimes ensnare a fool, and so accomplish the desires of the lustful; but it seldom attaineth the ends of the proud: for their desire is to be more highly esteemed, and almost all men do think the more meanly of
them. Wise men have more wit, than to think the tailor can make a wise man or woman, or an honest man or woman, or a handsome man or woman: good men pity them, and lament their folly and vice, and wish them wisdom and humility. In the eyes of a wise and gracious man, a poor self-denying, humble, patient, heavenly
Christian, is worth a thousand of these painted posts and peacocks.
And it so falls out that the ungodly themselves frustrate the proud person's expectations. For as covetous men do not like covetousness in another, because they would get most themselves; so proud persons like not pride in others, because they would not have any to vie with them, or overtop them, and be looked upon and preferred before them. None look with such scorn and envy at your bravery, as those that are as silly and sinful as yourselves, who cannot endure that you should excel them in vanity; so that good and bad do ordinarily despise or pity you for that which you think should procure your esteem.
5. Consider also, that apparel is the fruit or consequent of sin, that laid man naked and open unto shame; and is it fit that you should be proud of that which is ordained to hide your shame; and which should humble you, by minding you of the sin that caused the necessity of it?
6. And you should bethink you better than most gallants do, what account you mean to make to God for the money that you lay out in excess of bravery. Will it, think you, be a good and comfortable account, to say, 'Lord, I laid out so much to feed and manifest my pride and lust,' when such abundance of pious and charitable uses did call for all that you could spare? Many a lord, and knight, and gallant bestoweth more in one suit of clothes, or in one set of
hangings, or in the superfluous dress of a daughter, than would keep a family of poor people for a twelvemonth, or that would maintain a poor scholar for higher service than ever they themselves will do; and many a poor boy or girl goeth without a bible, or any good books, that they may lay out all they have on their backs.
7. Lastly, I beseech you not to forget what it is that you are so carefully doing; and what those bodies are that you so adorn, and are so proud of, and set out to the sight of the world in such bravery. Do you not know yourselves? Is it not a lump of warm and thick clay, that you would have men observe and honour? When the soul that you neglect is once gone from them, they will be set out then in another garb. That little space of earth that must receive them, must be defiled with their filthiness and corruption; and the dearest of your friends will have no more of your company, nor one smell or sight of you more, if they can choose. There is not a carrion in the ditch that is more loathsome than that gallant painted corpse will be a little after death. And what are you in the mean time? Even bags of filth, and living graves, in which the carcases of your fellow-creatures are daily buried and corrupt. There is scarce a day with most of you, but some part of a dead carcase is buried in your bodies, in which, as in a filthy grave, they lie and corrupt, and part of them turneth into your substance, and the rest is cast out into filthy excrements. And thus you walk like painted sepulchres; your fine clothes are the adorned covers of filth, and phlegm, and dung. If you did but see what is within the proudest gallant, you would say the inside did much differ from the outside. It may be a hundred worms are crawling in the bowels of that beautiful damsel, or adorned fool, that set out themselves to be admired for their bravery. If a little of the