In Praise of Folly
infancy again; so as there is a great deal of truth couched in that old
proverb, _Once an old man, and twice a child_. Now if any one be curious
to understand what course I take to effect this alteration, my method is
this: I bring them to my well of forgetfulness, (the fountain whereof is
in the Fortunate Islands, and the river Lethe in hell but a small stream
of it), and when they have there filled their bellies full, and washed
down care, by the virtue and operation whereof they become young again.
Ay, but (say you) they merely dote, and play the fool: why yes, this is
what I mean by growing young again: for what else is it to be a child
than to be a fool and an idiot? It is the being such that makes that age
so acceptable: for who does not esteem it somewhat ominous to see a boy
endowed with the discretion of a man, and therefore for the curbing
of too forward parts we have a disparaging proverb, _Soon ripe, soon
rotten?_ And farther, who would keep company or have any thing to do
with such an old blade, as, after the wear and harrowing of so many
years should yet continue of as clear a head and sound a judgment as
he had at any time been in his middle-age; and therefore it is great
kindness of me that old men grow fools, since it is hereby only that
they are freed from such vexations as would torment them if they were
more wise: they can drink briskly, bear up stoutly, and lightly pass
over such infirmities, as a far stronger constitution could scarce
master. Sometime, with the old fellow in Plautus, they are brought back
to their horn-book again, to learn to spell their fortune in love.
Most wretched would they needs be if they had but wit enough to be
sensible of their hard condition; but by my assistance, they carry
off all well, and to their respective friends approve themselves good,
sociable, jolly companions. Thus Homer makes aged Nestor famed for
a smooth oily-tongued orator, while the delivery of Achilles was but
rough, harsh, and hesitant; and the same poet elsewhere tells us of old
men that sate on the walls, and spake with a great deal of flourish and
elegance. And in this point indeed they surpass and outgo children, who
are pretty forward in a softly, innocent prattle, but otherwise are too
much tongue-tied, and want the other's most acceptable embellishment of
a perpetual talkativeness. Add to this, that old men love to be playing
with children, and children delight as much in them, to verify the
proverb, that _Birds of a feather flock together_. And indeed what
difference can be discerned between them, but that the one is more
furrowed with wrinkles, and has seen a little more of the world than
the other? For otherwise their whitish hair, their want of teeth,
their smallness of stature, their milk diet, their bald crowns, their
prattling, their playing, their short memory, their heedlessness, and
all their other endowments, exactly agree; and the more they advance
in years, the nearer they come back to their cradle, till like children
indeed, at last they depart the world, without any remorse at the loss
of life, or sense of the pangs of death.
And now let any one compare the excellency of my metamorphosing power
to that which Ovid attributes to the gods; their strange feats in some
drunken passions we will omit for their credit sake, and instance
only in such persons as they pretend great kindness for; these they
transformed into trees, birds, insects, and sometimes serpents; but
alas, their very change into somewhat else argues the destruction of
what they were before; whereas I can restore the same numerical man to
his pristine state of youth, health and strength; yea, what is more,
if men would but so far consult their own interest, as to discard all
thoughts of wisdom, and entirely resign themselves to my guidance and
conduct, old age should be a paradox, and each man's years a perpetual
spring. For look how your hard plodding students, by a close sedentary
confinement to their books, grow mopish, pale, and meagre, as if, by a
continual wrack of brains, and torture of invention, their veins were
pumped dry, and their whole body squeezed sapless; whereas my followers
are smooth, plump, and bucksome, and altogether as lusty as so many
bacon-hogs, or sucking calves; never in their career of pleasure to be
arrested with old age, if they could but keep themselves untainted from
the contagiousness of wisdom, with the leprosy whereof, if at any time
they are infected, it is only for prevention, lest they should otherwise
have been too happy.
For a more ample confirmation of the truth of what foregoes, it is on
all sides confessed, that Folly is the best preservative of youth,
and the most effectual antidote against age. And it is a never-failing
observation made of the people of Brabant, that, contrary to the proverb
of _Older and wiser_, the more ancient they grow, the more fools
they are; and there is not any one country, whose inhabitants enjoy
themselves better, and rub through the world with more ease and quiet.
To these are nearly related, as well by affinity of customs, as of
neighbourhood, my friends the Hollanders: mine I may well call them, for
they stick so close and lovingly to me, that they are styled fools to
a proverb, and yet scorn to be ashamed of their name. Well, let fond
mortals go now in a needless quest of some Medea, Circe, Venus, or
some enchanted fountain, for a restorative of age, whereas the accurate
performance of this feat lies only within the ability of my art and
skill.
It is I only who have the receipt of making that liquor wherewith
Memnon's daughter lengthened out her grandfather's declining days: it is
I that am that Venus, who so far restored the languishing Phaon, as to
make Sappho fall deeply in love with his beauty. Mine are those herbs,
mine those charms, that not only lure back swift time, when past and
gone, but what is more to be admired, clip its wings, and prevent all
farther flight. So then, if you will all agree to my verdict, that
nothing is more desirable than the being young, nor any thing more
loathed than contemptible old age, you must needs acknowledge it as
an unrequitable obligation from me, for fencing off the one, and
perpetuating the other.
But why should I confine my discourse to the narrow subject of mankind
only? View the whole heaven itself, and then tell me what one of that
divine tribe would not be mean and despicable, if my name did not lend
him some respect and authority. Why is Bacchus always painted as a young
man, but only because he is freakish, drunk, and mad; and spending his
time in toping, dancing, masking, and revelling, seems to have nothing
in the least to do with wisdom? Nay, so far is he from the affectation
of being accounted wise, that he is content, all the rights of devotion
which are paid unto him should consist of apishness and drollery.
Farther, what scoffs and jeers did not the old comedians throw upon him?
_O swinish punch-gut god_, say they, _that smells rank of the sty he was
sowed up in_, and so on. But prithee, who in this case, always merry,
youthful, soaked in wine, and drowned in pleasure, who, I say, in such
a case, would change conditions, either with the lofty menace-looking
Jove, the grave, yet timorous Pan, the stately Pallas, or indeed any
one other of heaven's landlords? Why is Cupid feigned as a boy, but only
because he is an under-witted whipster, that neither acts nor thinks any
thing with discretion? Why is Venus adored for the mirror of beauty, but
only because she and I claim kindred, she being of the same complexion
with my father Plutus, and therefore called by Homer the Golden Goddess?
Beside, she imitates me in being always a laughing, if either we believe
the poets, or their near kinsmen the painters, the first mentioning, the
other drawing her constantly in that posture. Add farther, to what deity
did the Romans pay a more ceremonial respect than to Flora, that bawd of
obscenity? And if any one search the poets for an historical account
of the gods, he shall find them all famous for lewd pranks and
debaucheries. It is needless to insist upon the miscarriages of others,
when the lecherous intrigues of Jove himself are so notorious, and
when the pretendedly chaste Diana so oft uncloaked her modesty to run
a hunting after her beloved Endimion. But I will say no more, for I
had rather they should be told of their faults by Momus, who was want
formerly to sting them with some close reflections, till nettled by his
abusive raillery, they kicked him out of heaven for his sauciness
of daring to reprove such as were beyond correction: and now in his
banishment from heaven he finds but cold entertainment here on
earth, nay, is denied all admittance into the court of princes, where
notwithstanding my handmaid Flattery finds a most encouraging welcome:
but this petulant monitor being thrust out of doors, the gods can now
more freely rant and revel, and take their whole swinge of pleasure.
Now the beastly Priapus may recreate himself without contradiction in
lust and filthiness; now the sly Mercury may, without discovery, go on
in his thieveries, and nimble-fingered juggles; the sooty Vulcan may now
renew his wonted custom of making the other gods laugh by his hopping so
limpingly, and coming off with so many dry jokes, and biting repartees.
Silenus, the old doting lover, to shew his activity, may now dance a
frisking jig, and the nymphs be at the same sport naked. The goatish
satyrs may make up a merry ball, and Pan, the blind harper may put up
his bagpipes, and sing bawdy catches, to which the gods, especially when
they are almost drunk, shall give a most profound attention. But why
would I any farther rip open and expose the weakness of the gods, a
weakness so childish and absurd, that no man can at the same time keep
his countenance, and make a relation of it? Now therefore, like Homer's
wandering muse, I will take my leave of heaven, and come down again
here below, where we shall find nothing happy, nay, nothing tolerable,
without my presence and assistance. And in the first place consider how
providently nature has took care that in all her works there should
be some piquant smack and relish of Folly: for since the Stoics define
wisdom to be conducted by reason, and folly nothing else but the being
hurried by passion, lest our life should otherwise have been too dull
and inactive, that creator, who out of clay first tempered and made
us up, put into the composition of our humanity more than a pound of
passions to an ounce of reason; and reason he confined within the narrow
cells of the brain, whereas he left passions the whole body to range
in. Farther, he set up two sturdy champions to stand perpetually on the
guard, that reason might make no assault, surprise, nor in-road: anger,
which keeps its station in the fortress of the heart; and Just, which
like the signs Virgo and Scorpio, rules the belly and secret members.
Against the forces of these two warriors how unable is reason to bear up
and withstand, every day's experience does abundantly witness; while let
reason be never so importunate in urging and reinforcing her admonitions
to virtue, yet the passions bear all before them, and by the least offer
of curb or restraint grow but more imperious, till reason itself, for
quietness sake, is forced to desist from all further remonstrance.
But because it seemed expedient that man, who was born for the
transaction of business, should have so much wisdom as should fit and
capacitate him for the discharge of his duty herein, and yet lest such
a measure as is requisite for this purpose might prove too dangerous