Ben Jonson’s words, “I do honour the very flea of his dog,” encapsulate the satirical wit often present in his dramatic works. With hyperbolic reverence, Jonson amplifies how absurdly excessive flattery or admiration can become, especially when it is not genuinely deserved. By declaring his willingness to extend honour not merely to a person, but to a flea, an insignificant parasite, on the dog belonging to that person, Jonson draws attention to the irrational extremes of sycophancy.
The construction of this phrase uses a deliberate escalation. The progression from the person, to their dog, and further down the hierarchy to a flea upon the dog, magnifies the ridiculous lengths to which deference can be taken. In the context of early modern England, social status and patronage systems were often maintained by intricate displays of loyalty and public esteem. Jonson’s remark functions as a pointed satire of those who curry favour with the powerful, suggesting that such individuals do not stop at respecting those in positions of authority; they feel compelled to extend their devotion to any and all associated minutiae, however trivial or laughable.
Underlying this witty exaggeration is Jonson’s criticism of empty gestures and the notion that such displays often minimize authentic merit. Instead of meaningful respect or admiration, superficial worship pervades social relations, polluting honest discourse with sycophantic excess. By referencing a flea, a creature considered both detestable and utterly negligible, Jonson underscores how insincerity diminishes both the giver and the supposedly honored.
In literary terms, this expression resonates as a broader commentary on human nature, mocking patterns of social climbing and the artifice of courtly or patronage circles. It warns of the grotesque fawning that pervades hierarchical societies, serving as both a comedic and cautionary exemplar of the folly inherent in exaggerated admiration.
