The Anatomy of Melancholy

Yes, but this is very good advice, rightly addressed to those who have resources and will not use them: those who have enough, who can work and earn their living by the sweat of their brows, by their trade, who still have something. Someone who has birds can catch birds. But what are we to do—we who are slaves by nature, powerless and unable to help ourselves, outright beggars wasting and pining away, with no means at all, no hope of getting any, no prospect of deliverance or a better outcome?

Like the ancient Britons, oppressed by the Picts, who complained to their lords and masters, the Romans: “The sea drives us to the barbarians; the barbarians to the sea.” The barbarians drove them to the sea, and the sea drove them back to the barbarians. Our present misery forces us to cry out and howl, to appeal to the rich; they send us back to our misfortune with a scornful answer and take no pity on us.

They commonly overlook their poor friends in adversity. If they happen to meet them, they deliberately forget them and refuse to acknowledge them. They will not help us; they cannot. Instead of comforting us, they threaten, abuse and mock us, adding to our misery with insults. Or if they do offer kind words, what relief is that? As Thales said, “It is easy to advise others.” Who cannot give good advice? It is cheap; it costs them nothing.

It is easy, with a full belly, to declaim against fasting: “The well-fed man praises fasting on a full stomach.” “Does the wild ass bray when he has grass, or the ox low when he has fodder?” Job 6:5. “For nothing can be more cheerful than the Roman people.” No one alive was so cheerful, so merry, as the people of Rome when they had plenty. But when they fell into want and were starved with hunger, neither shame, nor laws, nor arms, nor magistrates could keep them obedient.

Seneca argues strongly for poverty, and so did those lazy philosophers. Yet he was rich, and they had enough to support themselves. Does any poor man praise it? “Some people,” says Bernard, “approve of a humble condition, on condition that they themselves never go without. Others are meek so long as they may say or do whatever they please; but when put to the test, how far they are from patience!” I wish to God, as someone said, that no one would praise poverty unless he were poor himself; or that whoever admires it so much would relieve, help or ease the burden of others.

Now, if you hear us and are divine, Apollo, Tell me where someone without money can get it.

Now, if you hear us and are a good man, Tell someone in need how to get a living, if you can.

But no one hears us. We are utterly cast down, the scum of the world:

There is scarcely room on us now for another blow.

We can get no relief, no comfort, no help:

And I found nothing that could bring me help.

We have tried every means and found no remedy. No one alive can express the anguish and bitterness of our souls except those of us who endure it. We are afflicted and abandoned, tormented in body and mind, in another hell. What are we to do?