The Anatomy of Melancholy

It is told of Cornelia, that virtuous Roman lady—the great Scipio’s daughter, Titus Sempronius’s wife and mother of the Gracchi—that she happened to be in the company of a Campanian woman, a lady from elsewhere. Presumably she was some loose woman dressed like a May Queen, and, like most of our gentlewomen, more concerned about her headdress than her health, spending her time between comb and mirror, preferring beauty to virtue, as Cato said, and sooner seeing the commonwealth turned upside down than her headdress spoiled. She did nothing but boast of her fine robes and jewels, and challenged the Roman matron to show hers. Cornelia kept her talking until her children came home from school. “These,” she said, “are my jewels”; and so she outwitted and dismissed a proud, vain, fanciful woman.

How much better for our matrons to do as she did, dressing respectably and becomingly, “like an honourable woman who uses gold for what it is, only for necessary purposes”: to use gold as gold, for the purpose it serves and when they need it, rather than waste it in extravagance, beggar their husbands, prostitute themselves, entice others, and perhaps damn their own souls! How much more would that advance their honour and reputation?

By doing so—as Jerome said of Blesilla, “Furius did not triumph so greatly over the Gauls, Papirius over the Samnites, or Scipio over Numantia, as she did through her self-restraint, always in a dark dress,” and so on—they would triumph and rule over lust, folly, vainglory, and all such excessive, furious and unruly passions.

But I am too tedious, I confess. While I stand gaping after fine clothes, another great attraction—in the world’s eyes, at least—has almost slipped out of sight: money. “The arrows come from the dowry”: money makes the match; “they look only at money.” It is like sauce with their meat, “seasoning with the flesh”: a good dowry with a wife. Many men, merely hearing of a large marriage portion or a rich heiress, grow more frantic than if they had all the beautiful ornaments and fine qualities that art and nature can provide. They care nothing for virtue, upbringing, birth, beauty or person, but only for money.

For dogs and horses, Cyrnus, we seek Noble stock and good descent; Yet a good man does not mind marrying A bad woman, a bad father’s daughter, If only she brings him a large dowry.

For dogs and horses we seek the best breed With care, and may they prosper well; But as for wives, so long as they are wealthy, Fair or foul, we care not what they are.