rookers and sharks work their several ends upon such as they can make
a prey of, by decoying them into traps and snares beyond recovery: but
that which is the effect of folly is of a much different nature; it
proceeds from a softness of spirit, and a flexibleness of good humour,
and comes far nearer to virtue than that other extreme of friendship,
namely, a stiff, sour, dogged moroseness: it refreshes our minds when
tired, enlivens them when melancholy, reinforces them when languishing,
invigorates them when heavy, recovers them when sick, and pacifies them
when rebellious: it puts us in a method how to procure friends, and how
to keep them; it entices children to swallow the bitter rudiments of
learning; it gives a new ferment to the almost stagnated souls of old
men; it both reproves and instructs principles without offence under the
mask of commendation: in short, it makes every man fond and indulgent of
himself, which is indeed no small part of each man's happiness, and at
the same time renders him obliging and complaisant in all company, where
it is pleasant to see how the asses rub and scratch one another.
[Illustration: Asses Scratch One Another 210]
This again is a great accomplishment to an orator, a greater to a
physician, and the only one to a poet: in fine, it is the best sweetener
to all afflictions, and gives a true relish to the otherwise insipid
enjoyments of our whole life. Ay, but (say you) to flatter is to
deceive; and to deceive is very harsh and hurtful: no, rather just
contrary; nothing is more welcome and bewitching than the being
deceived. They are much to be blamed for an undistinguishing head, that
make a judgment of things according to what they are in themselves, when
their whole nature consists barely in the opinions that are had of them.
For all sublunary matters are enveloped in such a cloud of obscurity,
that the short-sightedness of human understanding, cannot pry through
and arrive to any comprehensive knowledge of them: hence the sect of
academic philosophers have modestly resolved, that all things being no
more than probable, nothing can be known as certain; or if there could,
yet would it but interrupt and abate from the pleasure of a more happy
ignorance. Finally, our souls are so fashioned and moulded, that they
are sooner captivated by appearances, than by real truths; of which,
if any one would demand an example, he may find a very familiar one in
churches, where, if what is delivered from the pulpit be a grave, solid,
rational discourse, all the congregation grow weary, and fall asleep,
till their patience be released; whereas if the preacher (pardon the
impropriety of the word, the prater I would have said) be zealous, in
his thumps of the cushion, antic gestures, and spend his glass in the
telling of pleasant stories, his beloved shall then stand up, tuck their
hair behind their ears, and be very devoutly attentive. So among the
saints, those are most resorted to who are most romantic and fabulous:
as for instance, a poetic St. George, a St. Christopher, or a St.
Barbara, shall be oftener prayed to than St. Peter, St. Paul, nay,
perhaps than Christ himself; but this, it is possible, may more properly
be referred to another place.
[Illustration: 215]
In the mean while observe what a cheap purchase of happiness is made by
the strength of fancy. For whereas many things even of inconsiderable
value, would cost a great deal of pains and perhaps pelf, to procure;
opinion spares charges, and yet gives us them in as ample a manner by
conceit, as if we possessed them in reality. Thus he who feeds on such
a stinking dish of fish, as another must hold his nose at a yard's
distance from, yet if he feed heartily, and relish them palateably, they
are to him as good as if they were fresh caught: whereas on the other
hand, if any one be invited to never so dainty a joul of sturgeon, if
it go against his stomach to eat any, he may sit a hungry, and bite his
nails with greater appetite than his victuals. If a woman be never so
ugly and nauseous, yet if her husband can but think her handsome, it
is all one to him as if she really were so: if any man have never so
ordinary and smutty a draught, yet if he admires the excellency of it,
and can suppose it to have been drawn by some old Apelles, or modern
Vandyke, he is as proud of it as if it had really been done by one
of their hands. I knew a friend of mine that presented his bride with
several false and counterfeit stones, making her believe that they were
right jewels, and cost him so many hundred thousand crowns; under his
mistake the poor woman was as choice of pebbles, and painted glass, as
if they had been so many natural rubies and diamonds, while the subtle
husband saved a great deal in his pocket, and yet made his wife as well
pleased as if he had been at ten hundred times the cost What difference
is there between them that in the darkest dungeon, can with a platonic
brain survey the whole world in idea, and him that stands in the open
air, and takes a less deluding prospect of the universe? If the beggar
in Lucian, that dreamt he was a prince, had never waked, his imaginary
kingdom had been as great as a real one. Between him therefore that
truly is happy, and him that thinks himself so, there is no perceivable
distinction; or if any, the fool has the better of it: first, because
his happiness costs him less, standing him only in the price of a single
thought; and then, secondly, because he has more fellow-companions and
partakers of his good fortune: for no enjoyment is comfortable where
the benefit is not imparted to others; nor is any one station of life
desirable, where we can have no converse with persons of the same
condition with ourselves: and yet this is the hard fate of wise men, who
are grown so scarce, that like Phoenixes, they appear but one in an age.
The Grecians, it is true, reckoned up seven within the narrow precincts
of their own country; yet I believe, were they to cast up their accounts
anew, they would not find a half, nay, not a third part, of one in far
larger extent.
[Illustration: 218]
Farther, when among the several good properties of Bacchus this is
looked upon as the chief, namely, that he drowns the cares and anxieties
of the mind, though it be indeed but for a short while; for after a
small nap, when our brains are a little settled, they all return to
their former corrodings: how much greater is the more durable advantage
which I bring? while by one uninterrupted fit of being drunk in conceit,
I perpetually cajole the mind with riots, revels, and all the excess and
energy of joy.
Add to this, that I am so communicative and bountiful, as to let no one
particular person pass without some token of my favour; whereas other
deities bestow their gifts sparingly to their elect only. Bacchus has
not thought fit that every soil should bear the same juice-yielding
grape: Venus has not given to all a like portion of beauty: Mercury
endows but few with the knack of an accomplished eloquence: Hercules
gives not to all the same measure of wealth and riches: Jupiter has
ordained but a few to be born to a kingdom: Mars in battle gives a
complete victory but to one party; nay, he often makes them both losers:
Apollo does not answer the expectation of all that consult his oracles:
Jove oft thunders: Phoebus sometimes shoots the plague, or some other
infection, at the point of his darts: and Neptune swallows down more
than he bears up: not to mention their Ve-Jupiters, their Plutos, their
Ate goddess of loss, their evil geniuses, and such other monsters of
divinity, as had more of the hangman than the god in them, and were
worshipped only to deprecate that hurt which used to be inflicted by
them: I say, not to mention these, I am that high and mighty goddess,
whose liberality is of as large an extent as her omnipotence: I give to
all that ask: I never appear sullen, nor out of humour, nor ever demand
any atonement or satisfaction for the omission of any ceremonious
punctilio in my worship: I do not storm or rage, if mortals, in
their addresses to the other gods pass me by unregarded, without the
acknowledgment of any respect or application: whereas all the other
gods are so scrupulous and exact, that it often proves less dangerous
manfully to despise them, than sneakingly to attempt the difficulty of
pleasing them. Thus some men are of that captious, froward humour, that
a man had better be wholly strangers to them, than never so intimate
friends.
[Illustration: Alter of Folly 222]
Well, but there are none (say you) build any altars, or dedicate any
temple to Folly. I admire (as I have before intimated) that the world
should be so wretchedly ungrateful. But I am so good natured as to pass
by and pardon this seeming affront, though indeed the charge thereof, as
unnecessary, may well be saved; for to what purpose should I demand the
sacrifice of frankincense, cakes, goats, and swine, since all persons
everywhere pay me that more acceptable service, which all divines
agree to be more effectual and meritorious, namely, an imitation of
my communicable attributes? I do not therefore any way envy Diana for
having her altars bedewed with human blood: I think myself then most
religiously adored, when my respective devotees (as is their usual
custom) conform themselves to my practice, transcribe my pattern, and so
live the copy of me their original. And truly this pious devotion is not
so much in use among christians as is much to be wished it were: for
how many zealous votaries are there that pay so profound respect to
the Virgin Mary, as to place lighted tapers even at noon day upon her
altars? And yet how few of them copy after her untouched chastity, her
modesty, and her other commendable virtues, in the imitation whereof
consists the truest esteem of divine worship? Farther, why should I
desire a temple, since the whole world is but one ample continued choir,
entirely dedicated to my use and service? Nor do I want worshippers at
any place where the earth wants not inhabitants. And as to the manner of
my worship, I am not yet so irrecoverably foolish, as to be prayed to
by proxy, and to have my honour intermediately bestowed upon senseless
images and pictures, which quite subvert the true end of religion; while
the unwary supplicants seldom distinguish betwixt the things themselves
and the objects they represent The same respect in the meanwhile is paid
to me in a more legitimate manner; for to me there are as many statues
erected as there are moving fabrics of mortality; every person, even
against his own will, carrying the image of me, _i.e._ the signal of
Folly instamped on his countenance. I have not therefore the least
tempting inducement to envy the more seeming state and splendour of the
other gods, who are worshipped at set times and places; as Phoebus at
Rhodes, Venus in her Cyprian isle, Juno in the city Argos, Minerva at
Athens, Jupiter on the hill Olympus, Neptune at Tarentum, and Priapus
in the town of Lampsacum; while my worship extending as far as my
influence, the whole world is my one altar, whereon the most valuable
incense and sacrifice is perpetually offered up.
[Illustration: 226]
But lest I should seem to speak this with more of confidence than truth,
let us take a nearer view of the mode of men's lives, whereby it will be
rendered more apparently evident what largesses I everywhere bestow, and
how much I am respected and esteemed of persons, from the highest to the
basest quality. For the proof whereof, it being too tedious to insist
upon each particular, I shall only mention such in general as are most
worthy the remark, from which by analogy we may easily judge of the
remainder. And indeed to what purpose would it be singly to recount the
commonalty and rabble of mankind, who beyond all question are entirely
on my side? and for a token of their vassalage do wear my livery in
so many older shapes, and more newly invented modes of Folly, that the
lungs of a thousand Democrituses would never hold out to such a laughter
as this subject would excite; and to these thousand must be superadded
one more, to laugh at them as much as they do at the other.
[Illustration: 230]
It is indeed almost incredible to relate what mirth, what sport,
what diversion, the grovelling inhabitants here on earth give to the
above-seated gods in heaven: for these exalted deities spend their
fasting sober hours in listening to those petitions that are offered up,
and in succouring such as they are appealed to by for redress; but when
they are a little entered at a glass of nectar, they then throw off
all serious concerns, and go and place themselves on the ascent of some
promontory in heaven, and from thence survey the little mole-hill of
earth. And trust me, there cannot be a more delightsome prospect, than
to view such a theatre so stuffed and crammed with swarms of fools. One
falls desperately in love, and the more he is slighted the more does his
spaniel-like passion increase; another is wedded to wealth rather than
to a wife; a third pimps for his own spouse, and is content to be
a cuckold so he may wear his horns gilt; a fourth is haunted with a
jealousy of his visiting neighbours; another sobs and roars, and plays
the child, for the death of a friend or relation; and lest his own tears
should not rise high enough to express the torrent of his grief, he
hires other mourners to accompany the corpse to the grave, and sing its
_requiem_ in sighs and lamentations; another hypocritically weeps at the
funeral of one whose death at heart he rejoices for; here a gluttonous
cormorant, whatever he can scrape up, thrusts all into his guts to
pacify the cryings of a hungry stomach; there a lazy wretch sits yawning
and stretching, and thinks nothing so desirable as sleep and idleness;
some are extremely industrious in other men's business, and sottishly
neglectful of their own; some think themselves rich because their credit
is great, though they can never pay, till they break, and compound for
their debts; one is so covetous that he lives poor to die rich; one for
a little uncertain gain will venture to cross the roughest seas, and
expose his life for the purchase of a livelihood; another will depend on
the plunders of war, rather than on the honest gains of peace; some will
close with and humour such warm old blades as have a good estate, and no
children of their own to bestow it upon; others practice the same art
of wheedling upon good old women, that have hoarded and coffered up more
bags than they know how to dispose of; both of these sly flatteries make
fine sport for the gods, when they are beat at their own weapons, and
(as oft happens) are gulled by those very persons they intended to make
a prey of.
There is another sort of base scoundrels in gentility, such scraping
merchants, who although, for the better vent of their commodities they
lie, swear, cheat, and practice all the intrigues of dishonesty, yet
think themselves no way inferior to persons of the highest quality, only
because they have raked together a plentiful estate; and there are not
wanting such insinuating hangers on, as shall caress and compliment
them with the greatest respect, in hopes to go snacks in some of their
dishonest gains; there are others so infected with the philosophical
paradox of banishing property, and having all things in common, that
they make no conscience of fastening on, and purloining whatever they
can get, and converting it to their own use and possession; there are
some who are rich only in wishes, and yet while they barely dream
of vast mountains of wealth, they are as happy as if their imaginary
fancies commenced real truths; some put on the best side outermost, and
starve themselves at home to appear gay and splendid abroad; one with
an open-handed freedom spends all he lays his fingers on; another with
a logic-fisted gripingness catches at and grasps all he can come within
the reach of; one apes it about in the streets to court popularity;
another consults his ease, and sticks to the confinement of a
chimney-corner; many others are tugging hard at law for a trifle, and
drive on an endless suit, only to enrich a deferring judge, or a knavish
advocate; one is for new-modelling a settled government; another is for
some notable heroical attempt; and a third by all means must travel a
pilgrim to Rome, Jerusalem, or some shrine of a saint elsewhere, though
he have no other business than the paying of a formal impertinent visit,
leaving his wife and children to fast, while he himself forsooth is gone
to pray.
[Illustration: 234]
In short, if (as Lucian fancies Menippus to have done heretofore,) any
man could now again look down from the orb of the moon, he would see
thick swarms as it were of flies and gnats, that were quarrelling with
each other, justling, fighting, fluttering, skipping, playing, just new
produced, soon after decaying, and then immediately vanishing; and it
can scarce be thought how many tumults and tragedies so inconsiderate a
creature as man does give occasion to, and that in so short a space as
the small span of life; subject to so many casualties, that the sword,
pestilence, and other epidemic accidents, shall many times sweep away
whole thousands at a brush.
[Illustration: 238]
But hold; I should but expose myself too far, and incur the guilt of
being roundly laughed at, if I proceed to enumerate the several kinds
of the folly of the vulgar. I shall confine therefore my following
discourse only to such as challenge the repute of wisdom, and seemingly
pass for men of the soundest intellectuals. Among whom the Grammarians
present themselves in the front, a sort of men who would be the most
miserable, the most slavish, and the most hateful of all persons, if
I did not in some way alleviate the pressures and miseries of their
profession by blessing them with a bewitching sort of madness: for they
are not only liable to those five curses, which they so oft recite from
the first five verses of Homer, but to five hundred more of a worse
nature; as always damned to thirst and hunger, to be choked with dust
in their unswept schools (schools, shall I term them, or rather
elaboratories, nay, bridewells, and houses of correction?), to wear out
themselves in fret and drudgery; to be deafened with the noise of gaping
boys; and in short, to be stifled with heat and stench; and yet they
cheerfully dispense with all these inconveniences, and, by the help of
a fond conceit, think themselves as happy as any men living: taking a
great pride and delight in frowning and looking big upon the trembling
urchins, in boxing, slashing, striking with the ferula, and in the
exercise of all their other methods of tyranny; while thus lording it
over a parcel of young, weak chits, they imitate the Cuman ass, and
think themselves as stately as a lion, that domineers over all the
inferior herd. Elevated with this conceit, they can hold filth and
nastiness to be an ornament; can reconcile their nose to the most
intolerable smells; and finally, think their wretched slavery the most
arbitrary kingdom, which they would not exchange for the jurisdiction
of the most sovereign potentate: and they are yet more happy by a
strong persuasion of their own parts and abilities; for thus when their
employment is only to rehearse silly stories, and poetical fictions,
they will yet think themselves wiser than the best experienced
philosopher; nay, they have an art of making ordinary people, such as
their school boys' fond parents, to think them as considerable as their
own pride has made them. Add hereunto this other sort of ravishing
pleasure: when any of them has found out who was the mother of Anchises,
or has lighted upon some old unusual word, such as _bubsequa, bovinator,
manticulator_, or other like obsolete cramp terms; or can, after a great
deal of poring, spell out the inscription of some battered monument;
Lord! what joy, what triumph, what congratulating their success, as if
they had conquered Africa, or taken Babylon the Great! When they recite
some of their frothy, bombast verses, if any happen to admire them, they
are presendy flushed with the least hint of commendation, and devoudy
thank Pythagoras for his grateful hypothesis, whereby they are now
become actuated with a descent of Virgil's poetic soul. Nor is any
divertisement more pleasant, than when they meet to flatter and curry
one another; yet they are so critical, that if any one hap to be guilty
of the least slip, or seeming blunder, another shall presendy correct
him for it, and then to it they go in a tongue-combat, with all the
fervour, spleen, and eagerness imaginable. May Priscian himself be my
enemy if what I am now going to say be not exactly true. I knew an
old Sophister that was a Grecian, a latinist, a mathematician, a
philosopher, a musician, and all to the utmost perfection, who, after
threescore years' experience in the world, had spent the last twenty of
them only in drudging to conquer the criticisms of grammar, and made
it the chief part of his prayers, that his life might be so long spared
till he had learned how righdy to distinguish betwixt the eight parts of
speech, which no grammarian, whether Greek or Latin, had yet accurately
done. If any chance to have placed that as a conjunction which ought to
have been used as an adverb, it is a sufficient alarm to raise a war
for doing justice to the injured word. And since there have been as many
several grammars, as particular grammarians (nay, more, for Aldus alone
wrote five distinct grammars for his own share), the schoolmaster must
be obliged to consult them all, sparing for no time nor trouble, though
never so great, lest he should be otherwise posed in an unobserved
criticism, and so by an irreparable disgrace lose the reward of all his
toil. It is indifferent to me whether you call this folly or madness,
since you must needs confess that it is by my influence these
school-tyrants, though in never so despicable a condition, are so happy
in their own thoughts, that they would not change fortunes with the most
illustrious Sophi of Persia.
[Illustration: 242]
The Poets, however somewhat less beholden to me, own a professed
dependence on me, being a sort of lawless blades, that by prescription
claim a license to a proverb, while the whole intent of their profession
is only to smooth up and tickle the ears of fools, that by mere toys and
fabulous shams, with which (however ridiculous) they are so bolstered
up in an airy imagination, as to promise themselves an everlasting name,
and promise, by their balderdash, at the same time to celebrate the
never-dying memory of others. To these rapturous wits self-love and
flattery are never-failing attendants; nor do any prove more zealous or
constant devotees to folly.
The Rhetoricians likewise, though they are ambitious of being ranked
among the Philosophers, yet are apparently of my faction, as appears
among other arguments, by this more especially; in that among their
several topics of completing the art of oratory, they all particularly
insist upon the knack of jesting, which is one species of folly; as is
evident from the books of oratory wrote to Herennius, put among Cicero's
work, but done by some other unknown author; and in Quintilian,
that great master of eloquence, there is one large chapter spent in
prescribing the methods of raising laughter: in short, they may well
attribute a great efficacy to folly, since on any argument they can many
times by a slight laugh over what they could never seriously confute.