In Praise of Folly
first onset, and could never recover himself, but was hooted and hissed
home again: yet this philosopher was the less a fool, for refusing the
appellation of wise, and not accepting the oracle's compliment; as also
for advising that no philosophers should have any hand in the government
of the commonwealth; he should have likewise at the same time, added,
that they should be banished all human society.
And what made this great man poison himself to prevent the malice of his
accusers? What made him the instrument of his own death, but only his
excessiveness of wisdom? whereby, while he was searching into the nature
of clouds, while he was plodding and contemplating upon ideas, while he
was exercising his geometry upon the measure of a flea, and diving into
the recesses of nature, for an account how little insects, when they
were so small, could make so great a buzz and hum; while he was intent
upon these fooleries he minded nothing of the world, or its ordinary
concerns.
Next to Socrates comes his scholar Plato, a famous orator indeed, that
could be so dashed out of countenance by an illiterate rabble, as to
demur, and hawk, and hesitate, before he could get to the end of one
short sentence. Theo-phrastus was such another coward, who beginning to
make an oration, was presently struck down with fear, as if he had seen
some ghost, or hobgoblin. Isocrates was so bashful and timorous, that
though he taught rhetoric, yet he could never have the confidence to
speak in public. Cicero, the master of Roman eloquence, was wont to
begin his speeches with a low, quivering voice, just like a school-boy,
afraid of not saying his lesson perfect enough to escape whipping:
and yet Fabius commends this property of Tully as an argument of a
considerate orator, sensible of the difficulty of acquitting himself
with credit: but what hereby does he do more than plainly confess that
wisdom is but a rub and impediment to the well management of any affair?
How would these heroes crouch, and shrink into nothing, at the sight of
drawn swords, that are thus quashed and stunned at the delivery of bare
words?
Now then let Plato's fine sentence be cried up, that "happy are those
commonwealths where either philosophers are elected kings, or kings turn
philosophers." Alas, this is so far from being true, that if we consult
all historians for an account of past ages, we shall find no princes
more weak, nor any people more slavish and wretched, than where the
administrations of affairs fell on the shoulders of some learned bookish
governor. Of the truth whereof, the two Catos are exemplary instances:
the first of which embroiled the city, and tired out the senate by his
tedious harangues of defending himself, and accusing others; the younger
was an unhappy occasion of the loss of the peoples' liberty, while
by improper methods he pretended to maintain it To these may be added
Brutus, Cassius, the two Gracchi, and Cicero himself, who was no less
fatal to Rome, than his parallel Demosthenes was to Athens: as likewise
Marcus Antoninus, whom we may allow to have been a good emperor, yet the
less such for his being a philosopher; and certainly he did not do half
that kindness to his empire by his own prudent management of affairs,
as he did mischief by leaving such a degenerate successor as his son
Commodus proved to be; but it is a common observation, that _A wise
father has many times a foolish son_, nature so contriving it, lest the
taint of wisdom, like hereditary distempers, should otherwise descend by
propagation. Thus Tully's son Marcus, though bred at Athens, proved but
a dull, insipid soul; and Socrates his children had (as one ingeniously
expresses it) "more of the mother than the father," a phrase for their
being fools. However, it were the more excusable, though wise men are so
awkward and unhandy in the ordering of public affairs, if they were
not so bad, or worse in the management of their ordinary and domestic
concerns; but alas, here they are much to seek: for place a formal wise
man at a feast, and he shall, either by his morose silence put the whole
table out of humour, or by his frivolous questions disoblige and tire
out all that sit near him. Call him out to dance, and he shall move no
more nimbly than a camel: invite him to any public performance, and by
his very looks he shall damp the mirth of all the spectators, and at
last be forced, like Cato, to leave the theatre, because he cannot
unstarch his gravity, nor put on a more pleasant countenance. If he
engage in any discourse, he either breaks off abruptly, or tires out the
patience of the whole company, if he goes on: if he have any contract,
sale, or purchase to make, or any other worldly business to transact, he
behaves himself more like a senseless stock than a rational man; so as
he can be of no use nor advantage to himself, to his friends, or to
his country; because he knows nothing how the world goes, and is wholly
unacquainted with the humour of the vulgar, who cannot but hate a person
so disagreeing in temper from themselves.
And indeed the whole proceedings of the world are nothing but one
continued scene of Folly, all the actors being equally fools and madmen;
and therefore if any be so pragmatically wise as to be singular, he
must even turn a second Timon, or man-hater, and by retiring into some
unfrequented desert, become a recluse from all mankind.
But to return to what I first proposed, what was it in the infancy of
the world that made men, naturally savage, unite into civil societies,
but only flattery, one of my chiefest virtues? For there is nothing else
meant by the fables of Amphion and Orpheus with their harps; the first
making the stones jump into a well-built wall, the other inducing the
trees to pull their legs out of the ground, and dance the mor-rice after
him. What was it that quieted and appeased the Roman people, when they
brake out into a riot for the redress of grievances? Was it any sinewy
starched oration? No, alas, it was only a silly, ridiculous story, told
by Menenius Agrippa, how the other members of the body quarrelled with
the belly, resolving no longer to continue her drudging caterers, till
by the penance they thought thus in revenge to impose, they soon
found their own strength so far diminished, that paying the cost of
experiencing a mistake, they willingly returned to their respective
duties. Thus when the rabble of Athens murmured at the exaction of the
magistrates, Themistocles satisfied them with such another tale of the
fox and the hedge-hog; the first whereof being stuck fast in a miry bog,
the flies came swarming about him, and almost sucked out all his blood,
the latter officiously offers his service to drive them away; no, says
the fox, if these which are almost glutted be frighted off, there will
come a new hungry set that will be ten times more greedy and devouring:
the moral of this he meant applicable to the people, who if they had
such magistrates removed as they complained of for extortion, yet their
successors would certainly be worse.
With what highest advances of policy could Sertorius have kept the
Barbarians so well in awe, as by a white hart, which he pretended was
presented to him by Diana, and brought him intelligence of all his
enemies' designs? What was Lycurgus his grand argument for demonstrating
the force of education, but only the bringing out two whelps of the same
bitch, differently brought up, and placing before them a dish, and a
live hare; the one, that had been bred to hunting, ran after the game;
while the other, whose kennel had been a kitchen, presently fell a
licking the platter. Thus the before-mentioned Sertorius made his
soldiers sensible that wit and contrivance would do more than bare
strength, by setting a couple of men to the plucking off two horses'
tails; the first pulling at all in one handful, tugged in vain; while
the other, though much the weaker, snatching off one by one, soon
performed his appointed task.
Instances of like nature are Minos and king Numa, both which fooled
the people into obedience by a mere cheat and juggle; the first by
pretending he was advised by Jupiter, the latter by making the vulgar
believe he had the goddess _AEgeria_ assistant to him in all debates and
transactions. And indeed it is by such wheedles that the common people
are best gulled, and imposed upon.
For farther, what city would ever submit to the rigorous laws of Plato,
to the severe injunctions of Aristotle? or the more unpracticable tenets
of Socrates? No, these would have been too straight and galling, there
not being allowance enough made for the infirmities of the people.
To pass to another head, what was it made the Decii so forward to offer
themselves up as a sacrifice for an atonement to the angry gods, to
rescue and stipulate for their indebted country? What made Curtius, on
a like occasion, so desperately to throw away his life, but only
vainglory, that is condemned, and unanimously voted for a main branch of
Folly by all wise men? What is more unreasonable and foppish (say they)
than for any man, out of ambition to some office, to bow, to scrape
and cringe to the gaping rabble, to purchase their favour by bribes and
donatives, to have their names cried up in the streets, to be carried
about as it were for a fine sight upon the shoulders of the crowd, to
have their effigies carved in brass, and put up in the market place
for a monument of their popularity? Add to this, the affectation of new
titles and distinctive badges of honour; nay, the very deifying of such
as were the most bloody tyrants. These are so extremely ridiculous,
that there is need of more than one Democritus to laugh at them. And yet
hence only have been occasioned those memorable achievements of heroes,
that have so much employed the pens of many laborious writers.
It is Folly--that, in a several dress, governs cities, appoints
magistrates, and supports judicatures; and, in short, makes the whole
course of man's life a mere children's play, and worse than push-pin
diversion. The invention of all arts and sciences are likewise owing to
the same cause: for what sedentary, thoughtful men would have beat their
brains in the search of new and unheard-of-mysteries, if not egged on
by the bubbling hopes of credit and reputation? They think a little
glittering flash of vain-glory is a sufficient reward for all their
sweat, and toil, and tedious drudgery, while they that are supposedly
more foolish, reap advantage of the others' labours.
And now since I have made good my title to valour and industry, what if
I challenge an equal share of wisdom? How! this (you will say) is absurd
and contradictory; the east and west may as soon shake hands as Folly
and Wisdom be reconciled. Well, but have a little patience and I will
warrant you I will make out my claim. First then, if wisdom (as must be
confessed) is no more than a readiness of doing good, and an expedite
method of becoming serviceable to the world, to whom does this virtue
more properly belong? To the wise man, who partly out of modesty, partly
out of cowardice, can proceed resolutely in no attempt; or to the fool,
that goes hand over head, leaps before he looks, and so ventures through
the most hazardous undertaking without any sense or prospect of danger?
In the undertaking any enterprize the wise man shall run to consult with
his books, and daze himself with poring upon musty authors, while the
dispatchful fool shall rush blundy on, and have done the business, while
the other is thinking of it. For the two greatest lets and impediments
to the issue of any performance are modesty, which casts a mist before
men's eyes; and fear, which makes them shrink back, and recede from any