The Ship of Fools

Sebastian Brant

• Editorial: Dover Publications
• Año: 2012
• ISBN:
  9780486143125
• Categoría: Littérature
• Categoría: Collections littéraires européennes

Published in 1494 in Basel, The Ship of Fools was soon translated into every major European language. It provoked a vast number of imitations and remained steadily in print through the eighteenth century (with sporadic reprints after that). It still possesses an enormous vigor and vitality.
The book owes its long life to an imagination, wit, and humor rich with insights into human nature, yet neither bitter nor namby pamby. Its commentary on the boasting, pedantry, false learning, gambling, gluttony, medical folly, adultery, greed, envy, hatred, pride and other failings that mark humanity are sharp and telling, and, sadly, as relevant today as they were 450 years ago.
This translation by Professor Edwin H. Zeydel is the only accurate English translation ever published. (Barclay's version is really a pastiche written in imitation of Brant.) The form Professor Zeydel uses is verse, like the original, and he even retains the original rhyme scheme and meter. The achievement is remarkable, for it captures all the charm and movement of the original German while sacrificing nothing to readability and fluidity.
Published now with the 114 original Renaissance woodcuts and with Professor Zeydel's annotations, a biography of Brant, a publishing history, and a survey of the work's influence, this will unquestionably remain the definitive edition of The Ship of Fools in English. The illustrations are part of Dover's Pictorial Archive Series and may be used by commercial artists free of charge.

In dunce’s dance I take the lead,
Books useless, numerous my creed,
Which I can’t understand or read.¹

1. OF USELESS BOOKS

If on this ship I’m number one
For special reasons that was done,
Yes, I’m the first one here you see
Because I like my library.
Of splendid books I own no end,
But few that I can comprehend;
I cherish books of various ages
And keep the flies from off the pages.
Where art and science be professed
I say: At home I’m happiest,
I’m never better satisfied
Than when my books are by my side.
King Ptolemy did once decree
That he have all the books there be,
And thought he owned a treasure-trove,
But oh, he needed Christian love,
Could not profess the proper creed.
I, too, have many books indeed
But don’t peruse them very much;
Why should I plague myself with such?
My head in booklore I’ll not bury,
Who studies hard grows visionary;
A Dominie I well could be
And pay someone to learn for me;
Though I may be a vulgar lout
I can when scholars walk about
Say ‘ita’ when I might say ‘yes.’
The man of German tongue I bless; ²
Although my Latin isn’t fine
I know that ‘vinum’ stands for wine,
‘Gucklus’ ³ a cuckold, ‘stultus’ fool,
And I am ‘doctor,’ that’s my rule;
My ears are covered up for me,
If they were not, an ass I’d be.

Who heeds what mighty men have said
And e’er by fickleness is led
Drives sows to vats before they’re dead.¹

2. OF GOOD COUNCILORS

Full many exercise their wit
That soon in council they may sit,
Not knowing right or wrong at all
They blindly grope along the wall.
Hushai, alas, has long been dead,
Ahithophel has got ahead! ²
Wouldst others with advice delight,
Then counsel but what’s fair and right,
So you will not be like a slat
That drives the sow into the vat.
I truly say it is not fair,
Let judgment be a lesser care,
For it alone does not make right,
One must be searching, must be quite
Inquisitive of evidence,
Else right is wrong and bare of sense,
Else God will not accept your plea;
I give the warning earnestly.
If we could see the future clear
We’d not be rash with judgment here.
The standard every man’s applied
In life, by that he too is tried,
As you judge me and I judge you
Our heavenly Father judges too.³
When he is dead a man will find
The judgment he once gave his kind;
Whose judgment injures others may
Expect his own grim Judgment Day.
The judgments spoke by cruel men
Will some fine day rebound on them;
Who does not render justice well
Will meet harsh justice down in hell;
No godless counsel God will praise,
No violent, sly, or crafty ways.⁴

Who sets his heart on earthly ware
And seeks his joy and comfort there,
Inveterate foolishness his share.

3. OF GREED

A fool who gathers earthly ware
And finds no joy or comfort there
And hardly knows for whom to save
When once he finds his dark, cool grave;
More foolish still is he who spends
To frivolous and wasteful ends
What God once gave for him to own,
What he should husband all alone.
Some day accounting he must make,
Where more than limb will be at stake.
A fool gives liberally to friends,
His own salvation never tends
And dreads the lack of earthly wares,
But ne’er for things eternal cares.
O silly fool, how blind you are,
You fear the mange, invite a scar.
The man who wrongful riches wins
Will burn in hell for all his sins;
To that his heirs pay little heed,
They’d not assist in time of need,
They’d not redeem him for a sou
When once in hell he needs must stew.
For God’s sake, give the while you may,
When you’ve died other men hold sway;
No wise man ever deemed it worth
His while to garner wealth on earth,
He’d rather learn to know himself.
Who’s wise has more than trifling pelf;
Crassus did drink the gold, they say,
For which he craved and thirsted ay;
Crates his gold tossed out to sea,
So that for studies he’d be free.
Who piles up goods that evanesce
Inters his soul in filthiness.

Who everywhere would innovate
Arouses scandal, wrath, and hate,
A dunce’s stupid traveling mate.

4. OF INNOVATIONS

An erstwhile quite disgraceful thing
Now has a plain, familiar ring:
An honor ’twas a beard to grow,
Effeminate dandies now say no!
Smear apish grease on face and hair
And leave the neck entirely bare,
With rings and many a heavy chain,
As though they were in Lienhart’s train; ¹
Vile sulphur, resin curl their hair,
An egg white’s added too with care,
That curls may form in basket-pan,²
The curls amid the breeze they fan,
Or bleach them white in sun and heat,
For lice no ordinary treat;
Their number now would wax untold,
Since modern clothes have many a fold,
Coat, bodice, slipper, also skirts,
Boots, pants, and shoes and even shirts,
Fur hoods, cloaks, trimmings not a few,
The Jewish style seems smart and new.
The styles change oft, are various,
It proves that we are frivolous.
Shameless and fickle I do brand
Style slaves who live in every land;
Their coats are short and shorter grow,
So that their navels almost show.
Shame, German nation, be decried!
What nature would conceal and hide,
You bare it, make a public show,
’Twill lead to evil, lead to woe,
And then grow worse and harm your name;
Woe’s every man who rouses shame,
Woe’s him too who condones such sin,
His wages will be paid to him.

My name is on the Reaper’s list,
Nor has the knife my buttocks missed,
And yet in folly I persist.

5. OF OLD FOOLS

My foolish conduct mocks my age,
I’m very old but am not sage,
A naughty child of hundred years,
A youthful dunce cap o‘er my ears;
The children I would regiment
And write myself a testament
That after death I well may rue.
Example bad and counsel too
I give that in my youth I l...