but
a kind of death; or call another that were boasting of his family ill begotten or base, because
he is so far removed from virtue that is the only fountain of nobility; and so of the rest: what else
would he get by it but be thought himself mad and frantic? For as nothing is more foolish than
preposterous wisdom, so nothing is more unadvised than a forward unseasonable prudence. And
such is his that does not comply with the present time “and order himself as the market goes,” but
forgetting that law of feasts, “either drink or begone,” undertakes to disprove a common received
opinion. Whereas on the contrary ’tis the part of a truly prudent man not to be wise beyond his
condition, but either to take no notice of what the world does, or run with it for company. But this
is foolish, you’ll say; nor shall I deny it, provided always you be so civil on the other side as to
confess that this is to act a part in that world.
But, O you gods, “shall I speak or hold my tongue?” But why should I be silent in a thing that is
more true than truth itself? However it might not be amiss perhaps in so great an affair to call forth
the Muses from Helicon, since the poets so often invoke them upon every foolish occasion. Be
present then awhile, and assist me, you daughters of Jupiter, while I make it out that there is no
way to that so much famed wisdom, nor access to that fortress as they call it of happiness, but under
the banner of Folly. And first ’tis agreed of all hands that our passions belong to Folly; inasmuch
as we judge a wise man from a fool by this, that the one is ordered by them, the other by reason;
and therefore the Stoics remove from a wise man all disturbances of mind as so many diseases. But
these passions do not only the office of a tutor to such as are making towards the port of wisdom,
but are in every exercise of virtue as it were spurs and incentives, nay and encouragers to well
doing: which though that great Stoic Seneca most strongly denies, and takes from a wise man all
affections whatever, yet in doing that he leaves him not so much as a man but rather a new kind of
god that was never yet nor ever like to be. Nay, to speak plainer, he sets up a stony semblance of
a man, void of all sense and common feeling of humanity. And much good to them with this wise
man of theirs; let them enjoy him to themselves, love him without competitors, and live with him
in Plato’s commonwealth, the country of ideas, of Tantalus’ orchards. For who would not shun and
startle at such a man, as at some unnatural accident or spirit? A man dead to all sense of nature and
common affections, and no more moved with love or pity than if he were a flint or rock; whose
censure nothing escapes; that commits no errors himself, but has a lynx’s eyes upon others; measures
everything by an exact line, and forgives nothing; pleases himself with himself only; the only rich,
the only wise, the only free man, and only king; in brief, the only man that is everything, but in his
own single judgment only; that cares not for the friendship of any man, being himself a friend to
no man; makes no doubt to make the gods stoop to him, and condemns and laughs at the whole
actions of our life? And yet such a beast is this their perfect wise man. But tell me pray, if the thing
were to be carried by most voices, what city would choose him for its governor, or what army desire
him for their general? What woman would have such a husband, what goodfellow such a guest, or
what servant would either wish or endure such a master? Nay, who had not rather have one of the
middle sort of fools, who, being a fool himself, may the better know how to command or obey
fools; and who though he please his like, ’tis yet the greater number; one that is kind to his wife,
merry among his friends, a boon companion, and easy to be lived with; and lastly one that thinks
nothing of humanity should be a stranger to him? But I am weary of this wise man, and therefore
I’ll proceed to some other advantages.
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Desiderius Erasmus
In Praise of Folly
Go to then. Suppose a man in some lofty high tower, and that he could look round him, as the poets
say Jupiter was now and then wont. To how many misfortunes would he find the life of man subject?
How miserable, to say no worse, our birth, how difficult our education; to how many wrongs our
childhood exposed, to what pains our youth; how unsupportable our old age, and grievous our
unavoidable death? As also what troops of diseases beset us, how many casualties hang over our
heads, how many troubles invade us, and how little there is that is not steeped in gall? To say
nothing of those evils one man brings upon another, as poverty, imprisonment, infamy, dishonesty,
racks, snares, treachery, reproaches, actions, deceits—but I’m got into as endless a work as
numbering the sands—for what offenses mankind have deserved these things, or what angry god
compelled them to be born into such miseries is not my present business. Yet he that shall diligently
examine it with himself, would he not, think you, approve the example of the Milesian virgins and
kill himself? But who are they that for no other reason but that they were weary of life have hastened
their own fate? Were they not the next neighbors to wisdom? among whom, to say nothing of
Diogenes, Xenocrates, Cato, Cassius, Brutus, that wise man Chiron, being offered immortality,
chose rather to die than be troubled with the same thing always.
And now I think you see what would become of the world if all men should be wise; to wit it were
necessary we got another kind of clay and some better potter. But I, partly through ignorance, partly
unadvisedness, and sometimes through forgetfulness of evil, do now and then so sprinkle pleasure
with the hopes of good and sweeten men up in their greatest misfortunes that they are not willing
to leave this life,. even then when according to the account of the destinies this life has left them;
and by how much the less reason they have to live, by so much the more they desire it; so far are
they from being sensible of the least wearisomeness of life. Of my gift it is, that you have so many
old Nestors everywhere that have scarce left them so much as the shape of a man; stutterers, dotards,
toothless, grayhaired, bald; or rather, to use the words of Aristophanes, “Nasty, crumpled, miserable,
shriveled, bald, toothless, and wanting their baubles,” yet so delighted with life and to be thought
young that one dyes his gray hairs; another covers his baldness with a periwig; another gets a set
of new teeth; another falls desperately in love with a young wench and keeps more flickering about
her than a young man would have been ashamed of. For to see such an old crooked piece with one
foot in the grave to marry a plump young wench, and that too without a portion, is so common that
men almost expect to be commended for it. But the best sport of all is to see our old women, even
dead with age, and such skeletons one would think they had stolen out of their graves, and ever
mumbling in their mouths, “Life is sweet;” and as old as they are, still caterwauling, daily plastering
their face, scarce ever from the glass, gossiping, dancing, and writing love letters. These things are
laughed at as foolish, as indeed they are; yet they please themselves, live merrily, swim in pleasure,
and in a word are happy, by my courtesy. But I would have them to whom these things seem
ridiculous to consider with themselves whether it be not better to live so pleasant a life in such kind
of follies, than, as the proverb goes, “to take a halter and hang themselves.” Besides though these
things may be subject to censure, it concerns not my fools in the least, inasmuch as they take no
notice of it; or if they do, they easily neglect it. If a stone fall upon a man’s head, that’s evil indeed;
but dishonesty, infamy, villainy, ill reports carry no more hurt in them than a man is sensible of;
and if a man have no sense of them, they are no longer evils. What are you the worse if the people
hiss at you, so you applaud yourself? And that a man be able to do so, he must owe it to folly.
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Desiderius Erasmus
In Praise of Folly