The Anatomy of Melancholy

I do not so much pity those who may be relieved in other ways, but those alone who, through a powerful temperament and inborn constitution, are violently swept away by this torrent of internal humours. Though personally very modest, sober, religious, virtuous and well disposed—as many unmarried women in such distress are—they cannot resist. These troubles will appear; this disorder will take hold and show itself plainly, and cannot otherwise be helped.

But where am I? Into what subject have I rushed? What have I to do with nuns, unmarried women, virgins and widows? I am a bachelor myself and lead a monastic life in a college: “I am certainly a fool to have said these things.” I confess it is improper; and as the virgin Pallas blushed and turned her face away when Jupiter happened to speak of love in her presence, “I will restrain myself.” Though my subject necessarily requires it, I will say no more.

And yet I must and will say something more, add a word or two “on behalf of virgins and widows,” in favour of all such distressed people, out of compassion for their present condition. As I cannot help grieving for the misfortune of those who suffer from this infirmity and have no help, so I must denounce those at fault, its all-too-obvious causes. I must bitterly condemn those tyrannical sham statesmen, superstitious orders, rash vows, hard-hearted parents, guardians, unnatural friends and relatives—call them what you will—those careless and unfeeling overseers who, from worldly considerations, greed, utter negligence and their own private interests, “while all goes well with them meanwhile,” can so harshly reject, stubbornly neglect and impiously despise, without remorse or pity, the tears, sighs, groans and grievous miseries of the poor souls committed to their care.

How odious and abominable are these superstitious and rash vows of papist monasteries: to bind and force men and women to vow virginity and lead a single life against the laws of nature, contrary to religion, good government and humanity; to starve them, do violence to them and suppress the vigour of youth through rigorous statutes, severe laws and empty arguments; to deny them that towards which their inborn constitution so fiercely inclines and urgently drives them, sometimes hurling them headlong and leading them irresistibly, to the harm of their souls’ welfare and the sound condition of body and mind. All this for base and private interests: to maintain their gross superstition and enrich themselves and their territories, as they falsely suppose, by preventing certain marriages, so that the world may not fill with beggars or their parishes be burdened with orphans. Stupid politicians! “Can such outrages be committed?” Ought matters to be handled in this way?

“Better to marry than to burn,” says the Apostle, but they think otherwise. They will use every means to put out a fire in their neighbour’s house, yet will take no notice of the fire of lust that breaks out in such lamentable flames. Often their own flesh and blood, their very children, will rage and burn in this way, and they refuse to see it. “It is wretched,” says Augustine, “not to pity oneself”; and meanwhile they are wretched who cannot take pity on themselves, care for the common good of all, and “consequently” their own welfare.