The Anatomy of Melancholy

MEMBER 7 Against rejection, abuse, injuries, contempt, disgrace, Insults, slander, mockery and the like.

I cannot yet conclude, or think of calming the passions or quieting the mind, until I have also removed some of their other more prominent and common causes, which produce such grievous torment and discontent. I cannot hope to turn them all aside; my aim is only to point out a few of the chief ones.

Rejection and disgrace are two chief causes of discontent, but a sensible person need not take them so hard. Caesar himself has been refused; and when two candidates are equal in fortune, birth and every other qualification, one must necessarily lose. Why should you take it so grievously? You yourself have often refused others. If everyone could have whatever he wanted, we should all be gods, emperors, kings and princes. If everything that vain hope suggests, insatiable appetite desires or our perverse judgement approves were granted, we should instantly have another Chaos: utter confusion.

It offers some consolation to the rejected man that dignities, honours and offices are not always awarded for merit or worth, but through love, family connections, friendship, partiality or letters from powerful men; or, as commonly happens, they are bought and sold. As an old courtier observes, honours at court are bestowed according to a man’s wealth or powerful friends, rather than his virtues and good character.

“Among us in France”—so their own countryman reports—“matters are mostly settled by favour and patronage; whoever can secure a powerful man as his intermediary carries off all the advancement.” “The least worthy is generally preferred: Vatinius before Cato, the unpraised before the most highly praised.”

Slaves rule; asses Are decked with trappings, while horses are stripped of theirs.

An ignorant fool occupies another man’s seat, and the common people consider him learned, dignified and wise. As Cardan rightly observes, one man holds a professorship for a thousand crowns although he does not deserve ten, while another who deserves a thousand cannot obtain ten. “The salary does not provide many with even their salt.” Horses just as good as those drawing coaches pull carts.

Often, as Machiavelli confirms, “those whose outstanding virtue makes them worthy to rule are not rulers.” The worthiest man lacks employment; the skilled pilot lacks a ship; and the man who could govern a commonwealth, a whole world—a king in his own imagination—lacks the means to exercise his abilities and has not even a minor office to administer.

Yet the man fit to reign, “even though he lacks a kingdom,” is a better man than one who possesses a kingdom but does not know how to rule it. A lion does not always serve his keeper; often the keeper serves the lion. As Polydore Vergil puts it, “many kings, like wards, do not govern but are governed because of their ignorance.” Hiero of Syracuse was a fine king but lacked a kingdom; Perseus of Macedon had nothing of a king except the bare name and title, for he could not govern his kingdom. Thus great positions are often badly bestowed and worthy people disregarded.