The Anatomy of Melancholy

For just as a man playing for no stakes will pay little attention to his game, so voluntary work will not fully absorb a student unless he is deeply intent of his own accord and takes extraordinary pleasure in his subject. His business should be such that, willing or unwilling, he must undertake it, and cannot neglect it without great loss, a penalty, shame, or disadvantage.

Now, for women, instead of laborious studies, there are elaborate needlework, cutwork, spinning, bobbin lace, and many pretty things of their own making to adorn their houses, cushions, carpets, chairs, and stools—“for she does not eat the bread of idleness,” Proverbs 31:27; “she sought wool and flax”—as well as confections, preserves, distilled preparations, and so forth, which they show to visitors.

She herself, partner and overseer of the work, freely shows it To visiting guests, bearing witness that her hours Have neither passed in idleness nor been lost to her.

She shows it to her guests, with all her treasures: “My maids did this much; but this I did myself.”

These things occupy them, along with household duties and the like: neat gardens full of exotic, many-coloured, richly varied, sweet-smelling flowers and plants of every kind, which they are eager to acquire, meticulous in preserving and tending, proud to possess, and often boast of.

I deliberately pass over their cheerful gatherings, frequent visits, and mutual invitations, so common in prosperous towns; the gossiping of the lower ranks, and so forth. Old people have their prayer beads: an excellent invention for keeping those who are naturally melancholy and past all business from idleness, by saying so many Our Fathers, Hail Marys, and Creeds—if it were not profane and superstitious.

In a word, body and mind must both be exercised, and in moderation; otherwise great harm will follow. If the body is overtired, it tires the mind. The mind burdens the body, as often happens with students who, as Plutarch observes, take no care of the body but compel what is mortal to do as much as what is immortal, what is earthly as much as what is heavenly.

But the weary ox told the camel—both serving one master—who refused to carry some of his burden that before long he would be compelled to carry the whole pack and the ox’s hide into the bargain. And so it soon happened, when the ox died. The body may say the same to the soul that will give it no respite or relief: before long, a fever, vertigo, or wasting illness seizes them both; all study is abandoned, and they must be sick together. Whoever values his own welfare and health must let body and mind pull evenly under an equal yoke, so that they may happily enjoy the health they desire.