The Anatomy of Melancholy

SUBSECTION 2 Pleasant objects of love

Pleasant objects are innumerable, whether living or lifeless. Lifeless ones include countries, provinces, towers, towns and cities. As the writer said, “We see a most beautiful island even when we do not see it”: we see a beautiful island through a description, without seeing it ourselves. “The sun never saw a fairer city”; the Vale of Tempe in Thessaly, orchards, gardens, pleasant walks, groves, fountains and so on. The sky itself is called fair or foul. Fine buildings, fine pictures, all skilful, elaborate and finely wrought works, and clothes have an admirable splendour. We admire and gaze at them “as children do at Juno’s bird,” as children gaze at a peacock; a fine dog, a fine horse or hawk, and so on.

“The Thessalian loves a young horse, the Egyptian a young bull, the Spartan a puppy,” and so on. Such things as we love are most pleasing to our eyes and welcome to us; and whatever else we love may cause this passion if it is unnecessary or loved immoderately, as Guaineri observes.

These things are pleasing and good in themselves: excellent ornaments, necessary, attractive and suitable to possess. But when we gaze on them without restraint and dote on them too much, this pleasure may turn to pain, bring us much sorrow and discontent, cause our eventual ruin and end in melancholy.

Many are carried away by the bewitching sports of gambling, hawking, hunting and such empty pleasures, as I have said; others by an excessive desire for fame, to be crowned at the Olympic games, knighted on the battlefield and so on. In these ways they ruin themselves.

The lustful man dotes on his beautiful mistress; the glutton on his dishes, endlessly varied to please his palate; the pleasure-seeker on his different delights; the superstitious man on his idol, fattening himself on joys to come, as Turks feed themselves with an imagined belief in a sensual paradise. Thus different pleasant objects affect different people in different ways.

But the most beautiful and enticing objects come from human beings themselves, who most often captivate and allure people, making them dote on one another beyond all measure, for many reasons. First, as some suppose, through the secret power of the stars—“what star brings me into harmony with you?” People are especially devoted to one person and hate another, yet can give no reason for it: “I do not love you, Sabidius,” and so on.

Alexander admired Hephaestion, Hadrian Antinous, Nero Sporus, and so on. Physicians attribute this to people’s temperaments; astrologers to trine, sextile or opposing aspects of their respective ascendants, the ruling planets of their birth charts, and the love and hatred of planets; Cicogna to harmony and discord between spirits. Most, however, attribute it to outward charms.

A cheerful companion is welcome and agreeable to everyone. Hence, says Gomesius, princes and great men commonly maintain jesters and actors at their courts.

But “like most readily gathers with like.” It is similarity of character that binds most people inseparably: if they are devoted to the same studies or recreations, they delight in one another’s company; birds of a feather will gather together. If their inclinations differ or their characters are opposed, they can seldom agree.