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← ExitThe Anatomy of Melancholy

Reading language

Democritus Junior to His Book.

Go, book, such as you are; I dare not call you fortunate, Unless a kindly day makes you so. Yet go wherever you please, through any lands, And be sure to reflect your master’s spirit.

Go among the gracious Graces, and greet Any initiate of the Muses who will read you. Whether you dwell in country or town, or enter kings’ palaces, Behave humbly and gently, without biting.

If some nobleman or great person happens to inspect you, Be accommodating; let him read as far as he likes. There is something nobility, something a great person may want; Perhaps this page may win favour and give pleasure.

If some sour Cato, some stern senator, Should happen to wish to see this book too, Or some magistrate, then behave respectfully. But none will: eagles do not catch flies. They have no time to spend their fleeting hours on trifles, Nor do I want such readers; mine will be someone like me.

If a dignified matron happens to turn this way, If a distinguished lady or countess reads you, There is something to displease them, perhaps something to please. Only do not thrust yourself upon them; still, open your pages.

But if a noble maiden deigns to touch Your pages, or lingers over your sheets, Be obliging, and remember that there are some leaves More suitable for her eyes.

If a well-born attendant or a lovely girl Wishes to see your games, consent; open gladly. Say, “If only my master himself—for he likes such women— Were here in person now, for you to see.”

If someone of the gowned profession, known to me or unknown, Whether he works in schools or occupies a pulpit, Or in a college, turns over these trifles, And notices some faults as he examines them, Say, “Forgive the author; he would wish many things Erased, which he knows have already displeased.”

If a melancholy person or an affectionate lover, A courtier or citizen, or a well-dressed gentleman, Calls here, come, entrust yourself safely to his reading. Perhaps he will find much here that is not badly conceived. What to flee, what to beware of, what to embrace: This page may perhaps disclose many such things.

But if a physician comes before you, be friendly, Act carefully and conduct yourself without fault; For in my writings too he will find many things That may be of no small assistance to him.

If some lawyer blunders into these pages: “I have nothing to do with you; goodbye, you wretched crowd!” Unless he is a good man, honestly skilled in law; Then let him read, and perhaps he will leave better informed.

If some sensible, easygoing and kindly reader Turns his eyes here, let him read what he likes. A fair man will forgive: fear nothing, open willingly; He will not be offended by your faults,

And will praise some things. If a foolish rhetorician comes, Looking for language polished, refined and thoroughly cooked, Quickly close the book: here are only iron words, Which, ill suited to his taste, will upset his stomach.

But if an undistinguished poet of the common crowd arrives, Welcome him: he will read many fictions here. I am one of that number; no Apollo breathes into me. Not everyone can be a lofty-speaking bard.

If the reader is a critic, a pompous and troublesome censor, A Zoilus or Momus, if a rabid crowd arrives, Bare your teeth and growl; do not open then, If the envious crowd confronts you with spiteful sneers.

Make your escape; if you have no chance to leave, Disdain them and bear every taunt in silence. Let the crowd gnash its teeth and bark, filling the empty air With yelps; do not care. To please them would be wrong.

But suppose a more scrupulous visitor turns aside to you, Who dislikes wit, games and jokes, And charges you with filth and indecency: say That your master’s Muse is playful and fond of jokes;

Yet not indecent, if he weighs everything; but grant it: Though the page may be wanton, the life is upright.

If a barbarous, ignorant, uncultivated spectator Intrudes into this harvest, drive him away with a stick. Chase that mushroom far away, I command; what use have I for a mushroom? These pages suit his stomach no less.

Yet do not drive him away; receive everyone with a cheerful face, Men or women, whatever they are like, wherever they come from. Whoever comes will be welcome, a most welcome guest, Whoever it is, easygoing or difficult with me.

For if he finds fault, it will help that some faults were found; By finding fault he will make me pursue better things. But if he praises me, I will not be carried away by any praise; Let it be enough to have set something good against these ills.

These are the things he chose to entrust to our little book, And what its master, sending it away, ordered it to say.

46.The author addresses his book as a person travelling among possible readers. The Latin verse is translated line by line without adding rhyme. Speaker and addressee shifts are retained; the final couplet speaks of the author as the book’s master.

47.The 1651 print reads ausum, irregular here. The inspected 1638 poem opening also reads ausum, so it is not unique to the base edition. The translation understands the intended sense as ausim, I would dare, without claiming proof of authorial intention or changing the original column. Qualis is understood elliptically as such as you are.

48.Charites are the Graces; an initiate of the Muses is a devotee of poetry or learning. Without a tooth is a figure for refraining from biting satire. Ink or staining obscures parts of lines 5–7 in this copy; the words are supported by the later Latin witness listed in the references.

49.Cato stands for an austere moral censor. The eagle-and-flies proverb treats the book as something beneath the attention of the exalted readers just named; Burton then declines their company himself.

51.Ancilla normally means a female servant or attendant; generosa gives her a gentle or noble character or birth. The teasing invitation is accompanied by Burton’s own caution that it is a joke.

52.The toga or gown marks the learned professions; the following alternatives include teachers, preachers and scholars. Lycæum, named for the ancient Lyceum, is used here for a place of higher learning. The source does not specify whose displeasure the author recognizes.

53.Burton mixes the metaphors of polishing metal and cooking food. Iron words are hard or rough language, opposed to the stylist’s demand for finish. The translation retains his joke rather than smoothing it away.

54.Apollo is invoked as the god of poetic inspiration. Burton places himself among ordinary poets while giving this declaration its own deliberately elevated Latin dress.

55.Zoilus and Momus are conventional names for carping critics: Zoilus as the hostile critic of Homer, Momus as the personification of fault-finding. The book is now told to bite, reversing its earlier instructions to be gentle.

56.Lasciva can mean playful or sexually wanton. Burton moves between those senses as he stages the objection and reply; the next couplet makes his distinction explicit.

57.An adaptation of Martial, Epigrams 1.4.8, separating the character of the writing from the conduct of the writer. The final Latin line is printed in roman type, unlike the surrounding verse.

58.Fungus, mushroom, insults a dullard; the harvest is the book’s material. Both inspected 1638 and 1651 pages read non minus, no less. Their agreement supports retaining this wording, not settling its meaning. The abrupt comparison may be ironic or anticipate the welcome that follows. The translation remains literal; no correction is imposed.