In Praise of Folly

offer to look upon so pleasant a madness as an evil to be removed by physic; though yet I have not

determined whether every distemper of the sense or understanding be to be called madness.

For neither he that having weak eyes should take a mule for an ass, nor he that should admire an

insipid poem as excellent would be presently thought mad; but he that not only errs in his senses

but is deceived also in his judgment, and that too more than ordinary and upon all occasions—he,

I must confess, would be thought to come very near to it. As if anyone hearing an ass bray should

take it for excellent music, or a beggar conceive himself a king. And yet this kind of madness, if,

as it commonly happens, it turn to pleasure, it brings a great delight not only to them that are

possessed with it but to those also that behold it, though perhaps they may not be altogether so mad

as the other, for the species of this madness is much larger than the people take it to be. For one

mad man laughs at another, and beget themselves a mutual pleasure. Nor does it seldom happen

that he that is the more mad, laughs at him that is less mad. And in this every man is the more happy

in how many respects the more he is mad; and if I were judge in the case, he should be ranged in

that class of folly that is peculiarly mine, which in truth is so large and universal that I scarce know

anyone in all mankind that is wise at all hours, or has not some tang or other of madness.

And to this class do they appertain that slight everything in comparison of hunting and protest they

take an unimaginable pleasure to hear the yell of the horns and the yelps of the hounds, and I believe

could pick somewhat extraordinary out of their very excrement. And then what pleasure they take

to see a buck or the like unlaced? Let ordinary fellows cut up an ox or a wether, ’twere a crime to

have this done by anything less than a gentleman! who with his hat off, on his bare knees, and a

couteau for that purpose (for every sword or knife is not allowable), with a curious superstition and

certain postures, lays open the several parts in their respective order; while they that hem him in

admire it with silence, as some new religious ceremony, though perhaps they have seen it a hundred

times before. And if any of them chance to get the least piece of it, he presently thinks himself no

small gentleman. In all which they drive at nothing more than to become beasts themselves, while

yet they imagine they live the life of princes.

And next these may be reckoned those that have such an itch of building; one while changing rounds

into squares, and presently again squares into rounds, never knowing either measure or end, till at

last, reduced to the utmost poverty, there remains not to them so much as a place where they may

lay their head, or wherewith to fill their bellies. And why all this? but that they may pass over a

few years in feeding their foolish fancies.

And, in my opinion, next these may be reckoned such as with their new inventions and occult arts

undertake to change the forms of things and hunt all about after a certain fifth essence; men so

bewitched with this present hope that it never repents them of their pains or expense, but are ever

contriving how they may cheat themselves, till, having spent all, there is not enough left them to

provide another furnace. And yet they have not done dreaming these their pleasant dreams but

encourage others, as much as in them lies, to the same happiness. And at last, when they are quite

lost in all their expectations, they cheer up themselves with this sentence, “In great things the very

attempt is enough,” and then complain of the shortness of man’s life that is not sufficient for so

great an understanding.

23

Desiderius Erasmus

In Praise of Folly

---

And then for gamesters, I am a little doubtful whether they are to be admitted into our college; and

yet ’tis a foolish and ridiculous sight to see some addicted so to it that they can no sooner hear the

rattling of the dice but their heart leaps and dances again. And then when time after time they are

so far drawn on with the hopes of winning that they have made shipwreck of all, and having split

their ship on that rock of dice, no less terrible than the bishop and his clerks, scarce got alive to

shore, they choose rather to cheat any man of their just debts than not pay the money they lost, lest

otherwise, forsooth, they be thought no men of their words. Again what is it, I pray, to see old

fellows and half blind to play with spectacles? Nay, and when a justly deserved gout has knotted

their knuckles, to hire a caster, or one that may put the dice in the box for them? A pleasant thing,

I must confess, did it not for the most part end in quarrels, and therefore belongs rather to the Furies

than me.

But there is no doubt but that that kind of men are wholly ours who love to hear or tell feigned

miracles and strange lies and are never weary of any tale, though never so long, so it be of ghosts,

spirits, goblins, devils, or the like; which the further they are from truth, the more readily they are

believed and the more do they tickle their itching ears. And these serve not only to pass away time

but bring profit, especially to mass priests and pardoners. And next to these are they that have gotten

a foolish but pleasant persuasion that if they can but see a wooden or painted Polypheme Christopher,

they shall not die that day; or do but salute a carved Barbara, in the usual set form, that he shall

return safe from battle; or make his application to Erasmus on certain days with some small wax

candles and proper prayers, that he shall quickly be rich. Nay, they have gotten a Hercules, another

Hippolytus, and a St. George, whose horse most religiously set out with trappings and bosses there

wants little but they worship; however, they endeavor to make him their friend by some present or

other, and to swear by his master’s brazen helmet is an oath for a prince. Or what should I say of

them that hug themselves with their counterfeit pardons; that have measured purgatory by an

hourglass, and can without the least mistake demonstrate its ages, years, months, days, hours,

minutes, and seconds, as it were in a mathematical table? Or what of those who, having confidence

in certain magical charms and short prayers invented by some pious impostor, either for his soul’s

health or profit’s sake, promise to themselves everything: wealth, honor, pleasure, plenty, good

health, long life, lively old age, and the next place to Christ in the other world, which yet they desire

may not happen too soon, that is to say before the pleasures of this life have left them?

And now suppose some merchant, soldier, or judge, out of so many rapines, parts with some small

piece of money. He straight conceives all that sink of his whole life quite cleansed; so many perjuries,

so many lusts, so many debaucheries, so many contentions, so many murders, so many deceits, so

many breaches of trusts, so many treacheries bought off, as it were by compact; and so bought off

that they may begin upon a new score. But what is more foolish than those, or rather more happy,

who daily reciting those seven verses of the Psalms promise to themselves more than the top of

felicity? Which magical verses some devil or other, a merry one without doubt but more a blab of

his tongue than crafty, is believed to have discovered to St. Bernard, but not without a trick. And

these are so foolish that I am half ashamed of them myself, and yet they are approved, and that not

only by the common people but even the professors of religion. And what, are not they also almost

the same where several countries avouch to themselves their peculiar saint, and as everyone of

them has his particular gift, so also his particular form of worship? As, one is good for the toothache;

24

Desiderius Erasmus

In Praise of Folly

---