Skip to main content

Full text of "The colloquies; concerning men, manners, and things. Translated into English by N. Bailey, and edited, with notes by E. Johnson"

See other formats 


Presented  to  the 
LIBRARY  of  the 

UNIVERSITY  OF  TORONTO 

by 
NORAH  DE  PENCIER 


The  Colloquies  of  ERASMUS 


The   Colloquies  of 

DESIDERIUS 
ERASMUS 

Concerning  Men 
Manners  and  Things 


TRANSLATED    INTO    ENGLISH 

By     N.     B4TLET 

AND   EDITED,   WITH   NOTES 

By  the  Rev.   E.   JOHNSON,  M.A. 


In   Three  Volumes 
VOL.     Ill 


LO N  D ON 
GIBBINGS    fcf    COMPANY,    LIMITED 

i  900 


DEC  151965 


10312*? 


:?fl 

"'•§5-0? 

i  ^oO 

i/.  3 


Fifteen  hundred  copies  printed  by 

T.  and  A.  CONSTABLE,  Printers  to  Her  Majesty,  Edinburgh 
Type  Distributed 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 
THE    FUNERAL      ......  I 

THE    ECHO  .  ...  .  .24 

THE    UNEQUAL    FEAST      .....  29 

OF   THINGS    AND    WORDS  ...  37 

CHARON  .....  .45 

THE   ASSEMBLY   OF   GRAMMARIANS  .  .  -53 

THE    UNEQUAL    MARRIAGE  .  .  .  .  6l 

THE    IMPOSTURE  .....  76 

CYCLOPS,  OR   THE   GOSPEL   CARRIER         .  .  .78 

THE    IMPERTINENTS,  OR    CROSS-PURPOSES  .  .  88 

THE   FALSE   KNIGHT         ...  -91 

THE    PLAY    OF   COCK-ALL  ....          IO2 

THE   ASSEMBLY   OR    PARLIAMENT    OF    WOMEN    .  .114 

DILUCULUM,  OR  THE   EARLY    RISING      .  .  .         123 

THE   SOBER    FEAST  .  .  .  .  .132 

THE    NOTABLE    ART  ...  .          139 


vi  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 


PAGE 


THE  SERMON,  OR    MKRUARDUS  .  •         143 

THE   LOVER   OF   GLORY    .  .165 

OPULENTIA   SORDIDA,  OR   THE   WEALTHY    MISER  l8o 

THE   SERAPHICK   FUNERAL  •         J96 

AMICITIA,  OR   FRIENDSHIP            .  2I7 

PROBLEMA,  THE   PROBLEMS          .  •         233 

THE   EPICUREAN                 .  •         243 

THE   CONFLICT   BETWEEN   THALIA   AND   BARBARISM  .         264 

CONCERNING   THE   PROFITABLENESS   OF   COLLOQUIES  .         275 

OF   THE   METHOD   OF   STUDY        .  •         295 

NOTES                                                                          •                 •  -299 


The  Familiar  Colloquies  of 
DESIDERIUS    ERASMUS 

OF    ROTERDAM 
THE  FUNERAL 

THE  ARGUMENT 

This  Colloquy  points  out  the  different  Kinds  of  Deaths  in 
two  private  Persons,  describing,  as  in  a  Picture,  the 
extravagant  Expence  that  those  Persons  are  at,  who  put 
their  Confidence  in  Fictions,  more  than  those  that  trust  in 
the  Mercy  of  God.  In  the  Person  of  George  Balearicus, 
he  takes  Occasion  to  rally  the  foolish  Ambition  of  rich 
Men,  who  extend  their  Luxury  and  Pride  beyond  even 
Death  itself.  That  the  Way  to  Death  is  harder  than 
Death  itself.  That  God  would  therefore  have  Death  to 
be  terrible  to  us,  that  we  might  not  be  ready  to  contemn 
Life.  That  Physicians  don't  use  to  be  present  where 
Persons  are  dying.  Of  the  Orders  of  Monks,  who  play 
upon  the  Folly  of  rich  Men  for  their  own  Gain,  when  it 
should  be  their  Business  especially  to  correct  it.  The 
Pompousness  of  the  Venetians  at  Funerals,  altho'  it  be 
but  that  of  a  Cobler.  Cornelius,  a  Man  truly  pious, 
composes  himself  for  Death  after  another,  and  indeed 
a  more  Christian  Manner 

MARCOLPHUS,  PH&DRUS 

Mar.  Where  have  you  been,  Phcedrus?      What,  are 
you  just  come  out  of  Trophonius's  Cave  ? 1 
Ph.  What  makes  you  ask  me  that  Question  ? 


VOL.  III. 


A 


2  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Mar.  Because  you  look  so  horridly  sad,  sour,  and 
slovenly  ;  in  short,  you  don't  look  at  all  like  what  you 
are  called. 

Ph.  If  they  that  have  been  a  long  Time  in  a  Smiths 
Shop,  commonly  have  a  Dirty  Face,  do  you  wonder  that 
I  that  have  been  so  many  Days  with  two  Friends  that 
were  sick,  dying,  and  are  now  buried,  should  look  a  little 
more  sad  than  I  used  to  do,  especially  when  they  were 
both  of  them  my  very  dear  Friends  ? 

Mar.  Who  are  they  that  you  talk  of? 

Ph.  I    suppose   you  know   George   Balearicus,  don't 

you  ? 

Mar.  I  know  him  by  Name,  and  that's  all  ;  I  never 

saw  his  Face. 

Ph.  I  know  the  other  was  wholly  a  Stranger  to  you  ; 
his  Name  was  Cornelius  Montius.  They  were  both  of 
them  my  particular  Friends,  and  had  been  so  for  many 
Years. 

Mar.  It  was  never  my  Lot  to  be  by  where  any  one 

was  dying. 

Ph.  But  it  has  been  mine  too  often,  if  I  might  have 
had  my  Wish. 

Mar.  Well,  but  is  Death  so  terrible  a  Thing  as  they 

make  it  ? 

Ph.  The  Way  to  't  is  worse  than  the  Thing  itself;  so 
that  if  a  Man  could  free  his  Mind  from  the  Terror  and 
Apprehension  of  it,  he  would  take  away  the  worst  Part 
of  it.  And,  in  short,  whatsoever  is  tormenting,  either  in 
Sickness  or  in  Death  itself,  is  render'd  much  more  easy 
by  Resignation  to  the  Will  of  God  ;  for,  as  to  the  Sense 
of  Death,  when  the  Soul  is  departing  from  the  Body,  I 
am  of  Opinion,  they  are  either  wholly  insensible,  or  the 
Faculty  is  become  very  dull  and  stupid  ;  because  Nature, 
before  it  comes  to  that  Point,  lays  asleep  and  stupifies 
all  the  sensible  Faculties. 

Mar.  We  are  born  without  Sense  of  Pain,  as  to  our 
selves. 


The  Funeral  3 

Ph.  But  we  are  not  born  without  Pain  to  our  Mother. 

Mar.  Why  might  we  not  die  so?     Why  would  God 
make  Death  so  full  of  Pain  ? 

Ph.  He  was  pleased  to  make  Birth  painful  and  dan 
gerous  to  the  Mother,  to  make  the  Child  the  dearer  to  her; 
and  Death  formidable  to  Mankind,  to  deter  them  from 
laying  violent  Hands  upon  themselves  ;  for  when  we 
see  so  many  make  away  themselves,  as  the  Case  stands, 
what  do  you  think  they  would  do,  if  Death  had  no 
Terror  in  it?  As  often  as  a  Servant,  or  a  Son,  is 
corrected,  or  a  Woman  is  angry  at  her  Husband,  any 
Thing  is  lost,  or  any  Thing  goes  cross,  Men  would 
presently  repair  to  Halters,  Swords,  Rivers,  Precipices, 
or  Poisons.  Now  the  Bitterness  of  Death  makes  us  put 
a  greater  Value  upon  Life,  especially  since  the  Dead  are 
out  of  the  Reach  of  the  Doctor.  Altho',  as  we  are  not 
all  born  alike,  so  we  do  not  all  die  alike  ;  some  die 
suddenly,  others  pine  away  with  a  languishing  Illness 
those  that  are  seized  with  a  Lethargy,  and  such  as  are 
stung  by  an  Asp,  are  as  it  were  cast  into  a  sound  Sleep, 
and  die  without  any  Sense  of  Pain.  I  have  made  this 
Observation,  that  there  is  no  Death  so  painful,  but  a 
Man  may  bear  it  by  Resolution. 

Mar.  But  which  of  them  bore  his  Death  the  most  like 
a  Christian  ? 

Ph.  Why  truly,  in  my  Opinion,  George  died  the  most 
like  a  Man  of  Honour. 

Mar.  Why  then,  is  there  any  Sense  of  Ambition,  when 
a  Man  comes  to  that  Point  ? 

Ph.  I  never  saw  two  People  make  such  different  Ends. 
If  you  will  give  me  the  Hearing  I  '11  tell  you  what  End 
each  of  them  made,  and  you  shall  judge  which  of  them 
a  Christian  would  chuse  to  make. 

Mar.  Give  you  the  Hearing  !  Nay,  I  desire  you  will 
not  think  much  of  the  Trouble,  for  I  have  the  greatest 
Mind  in  the  World  to  hear  it. 

Ph.  Well  then,  you  shall  first  hear  how  George  died. 


4  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

As  soon  as  ever  the  certain  Symptoms  of  Death  ap 
peared,  the  Physicians,  who  had  attended  upon  him 
during  his  Sickness,  saying  never  a  Word  of  the  Despair 
they  had  of  his  Life,  demanded  their  Fees. 

Mar.  How  many  Doctors  had  he  ? 

Ph.  Sometimes  ten,  sometimes  twelve,  but  never 
under  six. 

Mar.  Enough  in  Conscience  to  have  done  the  Busi 
ness  of  a  Man  in  perfect  Health. 

Ph.  As  soon  as  ever  they  had  gotten  their  Money, 
they  privately  hinted  to  some  of  his  near  Relations,  that 
his  Death  was  near  at  Hand,  and  that  they  should  take 
Care  of  the  Good  of  his  Soul,  for  there  was  no  Hope  of 
his  Recovery  ;  and  this  was  handsomely  intimated  by 
some  of  his  particular  Friends  to  the  sick  Man  himself, 
desiring  him  that  he  would  commit  the  Care  of  his  Body 
to  God,  and  only  mind  those  Things  that  related  to  a 
happy  Exit  out  of  this  World.  George  hearing  this, 
look'd  wonderful  sourly  at  the  Physicians,  taking  it  very 
heinously,  that  they  should  leave  him  now  in  his  Dis 
tress.  They  told  him,  that  Physicians  were  but  Men, 
and  not  Gods,  and  that  they  had  done  what  Art  could 
do,  but  there  was  no  Physick  would  avail  against  Fate ; 
and  so  went  into  the  next  Chamber. 

Mar.  What  did  they  stay  for  after  they  were  paid  ? 

Ph.  They  were  not  yet  agreed  upon  the  Distemper  ; 
one  would  have  it  to  be  Dropsy,  another  a  Tympany, 
another  an  Imposthume  in  the  Guts  :  every  Man  of 
them  would  have  it  to  be  a  different  Disease  ;  and  this 
Dispute  they  were  very  hot  upon  all  the  Time  he  was 
sick. 

Mar.  The  Patient  had  a  blessed  Time  of  it  all  this 
While  ! 

Ph.  And  to  decide  this  Controversy,  they  desired  by 
his  Wife,  that  the  Body  might  be  opened,  which  would 
be  for  his  Honour,  being  a  Thing  very  usual  among 
Persons  of  Quality,  and  very  beneficial  to  a  great  many 


others  ;  and  that  it  would  add  to  the  bulk  of  his  Merits  ; 
and  lastly,  they  promised  they  would  purchase  thirty 
Masses  at  their  own  Charge  for  the  Good  of  his  Soul. 
It  was  a  hard  Matter  to  bring  him  to  it,  but  at  last,  by 
the  Importunities  and  fair  Words  of  his  Wife  and  near 
Relations,  he  was  brought  to  consent  to  it  ;  and  this 
being  done,  the  Consultation  was  dissolved  ;  for  they 
say,  it  is  not  convenient  that  Physicians,  whose  Business 
it  is  to  preserve  Life,  should  be  Spectators  of  their 
Patient's  Death,  or  present  at  their  Funerals.  By  and 
by  Bernardine  was  sent  for  to  take  his  Confession,  who 
is,  you  know,  a  very  reverend  Man,  and  Warden  of  the 
Franciscans.  His  Confession  was  scarce  over,  but  there 
was  a  whole  houseful  of  the  four  orders  of  Begging- 
Fryars,  as  they  are  called. 

Mar.  What  !  so  many  Vultures  to  one  Carcass  ?f 

Ph.  And  now  the  Parish-Priest  was  called,  to  give 
him  the  Extreme  Unction,  and  the  Sacrament  of  the 
Eucharist. 

Mar.  That  was  very  religiously  done. 

Ph.  But  there  had  like  to  have  been  a  very  Bloody 
Fray  between  the  Parish-Priest  and  the  Monks. 

Mar.  What,  at  the  sick  Man's  Bed-Side? 

Ph.  Nay,  and  Christ  himself  looking  on  too. 

Mar.  Pray,  what  was  the  Occasion  of  so  sudden  a 
Hurly-burly? 

Ph.  The  Parson  of  the  Parish,  so  soon  as  ever  he 
found  the  sick  Man  had  confess'd  to  the  Franciscan, 
did  Point-blank  refuse  to  give  him  either  the  Extreme 
Unction,  the  Eucharist,  or  afford  him  a  Burial,  unless  he 
heard  his  Confession  with  his  own  Ears.  He  said  he 
was  the  Parson  of  the  Parish,  and  that  he  was  account 
able  for  his  own  Flock  ;  and  that  he  could  not  do  it, 
unless  he  was  acquainted  with  the  Secrets  of  his  Con 
science. 

Mar.  And  don't  you  think  he  was  in  the  Right  ? 

Ph.  Why  indeed  they  did  not  think  so,  for  they  all 


6  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

fell  upon  him,  especially  Bernardine,  and  Vincent  the 
Dominican. 

Mar.  What  had  they  to  say  ? 

Ph.  They  rattled  off  the  Parson  soundly,  calling  him 
Ass,  and  one  fitter  to  be  a  Pastor  of  Swine  than  Men's 
Souls.  '  I,'  says  Vincent, '  am  a  Batchelor  of  Divinity,  and 
am  shortly  to  be  licensed,  and  take  my  Degree  of 
Doctor  ;  and  you  can  scarce  read  the  Collect,  you  are 
so  far  from  being  fit  to  dive  into  the  Secrets  of  a  Man's 
Conscience  :  but  if  you  have  such  an  Itch  of  Curiosity, 
go  Home  and  inquire  into  the  Privacies  of  your  Concu 
bine  and  Bastards.'  And  a  great  Deal  more  of  such 
Stuff  that  I  am  asham'd  to  mention. 

Mar.  And  did  he  say  nothing  to  all  this  ? 

Ph.  Nothing,  do  you  say  ?  Never  was  any  Man  so 
nettled.2  '  I,'  says  he, '  will  make  a  better  Batchelor  than 
you,  of  a  Bean-Stalk  ; 3  as  for  your  Masters  Dominic 
and  Francis,  pray  where  did  they  ever  learn  Aristotle's 
Philosophy,  the  Arguments  of  Thomas,  or  the  Specula 
tions  of  Scotus  ?  Where  did  they  take  their  Degree  of 
Batchelors  ?  You  have  crept  into  a  credulous  World,  a 
Company  of  mean  Wretches,  tho'  some  I  must  confess 
were  devout  and  learned.  You  nested  at  first  in  Fields 
and  Villages,  and  thence  anon  you  transplanted  your 
selves  into  opulent  Cities,  and  none  but  the  best  part  of 
them  neither  would  content  you.  Your  Business  lay 
then  only  in  Places  that  could  not  maintain  a  Pastor  ; 
but  now,  forsooth, (none  but  great  Men's  Houses  will 
serve  your  tunO  You  boast  much  of  your  being  Priests  ; 
but  your  Privileges  are  not  worth  a  Rush,  unless  in  the 
Absence  of  the  Bishop,  Pastor,  or  his  Curate.  Not  a 
Man  of  you  shall  ever  come  into  my  Pulpit,  I  '11  assure 
you,  as  long  as  I  am  Pastor.  It  is  true,  I  am  no  Batch 
elor  ;  no  more  was  St.  Martin,4  and  yet  he  discharged 
the  Office  of  a  Bishop  for  all  that.  If  I  have  not  so 
much  Learning  as  I  should,  I  will  never  come  a-begging 
to  you  for  it.  Do  you  think  the  World  is  so  stupid,  as 


The  Funeral  7 

to  think  the  Holiness  of  Dominic  and  Francis  is  entail'd 
upon  the  Habit?  Is  it  any  Business  of  yours,  what  I  do 
at  my  own  House  ?  It  is  very  well  known  in  the  World 
what  you  do  in  your  Cells,  and  how  you  handle  your 
holy  Virgins.  No  Body  is  ignorant  that  you  make  those 
rich  Men's  Houses  you  frequent,  no  better  than  they 
should  be.'  For  the  rest,  Marcolphus,  you  must  excuse 
me,  it  is  too  foul  to  be  told  ;  but  in  Truth,  he  handled 
the  Reverend  Fathers  very  scurvily  ;  and  there  had  been 
no  End  of  it,  if  George  had  not  held  up  his  Hand,  in 
Token  he  had  something  to  say,  and  it  was  with  much 
ado  that  the  Storm  was  laid  at  last,  tho'  but  for  a  little 
While.  Then  says  the  sick  Man, '  Peace  be  among  you, 
I  '11  confess  myself  over  again  to  you,  Mr.  Parson  ;  and 
as  for  the  Charge  of  tolling  the  Bell,  my  Funeral-Rites, 
my  Monument  and  Burial,  they  shall  all  be  paid  down 
to  you  before  you  go  out  of  the  House  ;  I  '11  take  Order 
that  you  shall  have  no  Cause  to  complain.' 

Mar.  Did  the  Parson  refuse  this  fair  Proposal  ? 

Ph.  He  did  not  absolutely  refuse  it,  but  he  mutter'd 
something  to  himself  about  Confession  ;  but  he  remitted 
it  at  last,  and  told  them,  there  was  no  Need  of  troubling 
the  Patient,  or  the  Priest,  with  the  same  Things  over 
again  ;  'but  if  he  had  confessed  to  me  in  Time,'  said  he, 
'  perhaps  he  would  have  made  his  Will  upon  better  Con 
ditions  ;  but  if  it  be  not  as  it  should  be,  you  must  now 
look  to  it.'  This  Equity  of  the  sick  Man  vexed  the  Monks 
to  the  Heart,  who  thought  very  much  that  any  Part  of  the 
Booty  should  go  to  the  Parson  of  the  Parish.  But  upon 
my  Intercession  the  Matter  was  composed  ;  the  Parson 
gave  the  sick  Man  the  Unction  and  the  Sacrament,  re 
ceived  his  Dues,  and  went  away. 

Mar.  Well,  now  certainly  a  Calm  follow'd  this  Storm, 
did  there  not? 

Ph.  So  far  from  it,  that  this  Storm  was  no  sooner  laid, 
than  a  worse  follow'd. 

Mar.  Upon  what  Ground  pray  ? 


8  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Ph.  I  '11  tell  you.  There  were  four  Orders  of  Begging- 
Fryars  in  the  House  already  ;  and  now,  in  comes  a  fifth 
of  Cross-Bearers,  against  which  all  the  other  four  Orders 
rise  up  in  a  Tumult,  as  illegitimate  and  spurious,  saying, 
'  Where  did  you  ever  see  a  Waggon  with  five  Wheels  ?  or 
with  what  Face  would  they  reckon  more  Orders  of  Men 
dicants,  than  there  were  Evangelists  ?  At  this  Rate  ye 
may  even  as  well  call  in  all  the  Beggars  to  ye,  from  the 
Bridges  and  Cross-Ways.' 

Mar.  What  Reply  made  the  Cross  -  Bearers  to 
this? 

Ph.  They  asked  them  how  the  Waggon  of  the  Church 
went  before  there  were  any  Mendicants  at  all.  And  so 
after  that,  when  there  was  but  one  Order,5  and  then 
again  when  there  were  three  ?  '  As  for  the  Number  of 
the  Evangelists,'  say  they,  '  it  has  no  more  Affinity  with 
our  Orders  than  with  the  Dye,  for  having  on  every  Side 
four  Angles.  Pray,  who  brought  the  Augustines  or  Car 
melites  into  the  Order?  When  did  Austin  or  Elias  go  a 
begging?  For  they  make  them  to  be  Principals  of  their 
Order.'  These  and  a  great  Deal  more  they  thundred 
out  violently  ;  but  being  overpower'd  with  Numbers  of 
the  four  Orders,  they  could  not  stand  the  Charge,  but 
were  forced  to  quit  the  Ground,  but  threatning  them 
with  dreadful  Things. 

Mar.  Well,  but  I  hope  all  was  quiet  now. 

Ph.  Nay,  not  so,  for  this  Confederacy  against  the 
fifth  Order,  was  come  almost  to  Daggers  drawing  ;  the 
Franciscan  and  Dominican  would  not  allow  the  Augus 
tines  and  Carmelites  to  be  true  Mendicants,  but  Bastards 
and  Supposititious.  This  Contention  rose  to  that  Height, 
that  I  was  afraid  it  would  have  come  to  Blows. 

Mar.  And  could  the  sick  Man  endure  all  this  ? 

Ph.  They  were  not  in  his  Bed-Chamber  now,  but  in  a 
Court  that  joined  to  it,  but  so  that  he  could  hear  every 
Word  they  said  ;  for  there  was  no  whispering,  believe 
me,  but  they  very  fairly  exercised  their  Lungs.  Besides, 


The  Funeral  9 

Men,  as  you  know,  are  quicker  of  hearing  than  ordinary, 
in  Sickness. 

Mar.  But  what  was  the  End  of  this  Dispute  ? 

Ph.  Why,  the  sick  Man  sent  them  Word  by  his  Wife, 
that  if  they  would  but  hold  their  Tongues  a  little,  he 
would  set  all  to  Rights  ;  and  therefore  desired  that 
the  Augustines  and  Carmelites  should  go  away  for  the 
present,  and  that  they  should  be  no  Losers  by  it,  for  they 
should  have  the  same  Portion  of  Meat  sent  them  Home, 
that  those  had  that  staid  there.  He  gave  Direction,  that 
all  the  five  Orders  should  assist  at  his  Funeral,  and  that 
every  one  of  them  should  have  an  equal  Share  of  Money  ; 
but  that  they  should  not  all  be  set  (down)  at  the  common 
Table,  lest  they  should  fall  together  by  the  Ears. 

Mar.  The  Man  understood  (Economy,  I  perceive, 
that  had  the  Skill  to  compose  so  many  Differences,  even 
upon  his  Death-Bed. 

Ph.  Phoo  ;  he  had  been  an  Officer  in  the  Army  for 
many  Years,  where  such  Sort  of  Mutinies  are  common 
among  the  Soldiers. 

Mar.  Had  he  a  great  Estate  ? 

Ph.  A  very  great  one. 

Mar.  But  ill-gotten  perhaps,  as  is  common,  by  Rapine, ' 
Sacrilege,  and  Extortion. 

Ph.  Indeed  Officers  commonly  do  so,  and  I  will  not 
swear  for  him  that  he  was  a  Jot  better  than  his  Neigh 
bours  :  But  if  I  don't  mistake  the  Man,  he  made  his 
Fortune  by  his  Wit,  rather  than  by  down-right  Violence. 

Mar.  After  what  Manner  ? 

Ph.  He  understood  Arithmetic  very  well. 

Mar.  And  what  of  that  ? 

Ph.  What  of  that  ?  why,  he  would  reckon  30,000  Sol 
diers  when  there  were  but  7000,  and  a  great  many  of 
those  he  never  paid  neither. 

Mar.  A  very  compendious  Way  of  accounting  ! 

Ph.  Then  he  would  lengthen  out  the  War,  and  raise 
Contributions  monthly,  both  from  Friends  and  Foes  ; 


IO  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

from  his  Enemies,  that  they  might  not  be  plunder'd  ; 
and  from  his  Friends,  that  they  might  have  Commerce 
with  the  Enemy. 

Mar.  I  know  the  common  Way  of  Soldiers ;  but 
make  an  End  of  your  Story. 

Ph.  Bernardine  and  Vincent,  with  some  Companions 
of  their  Order,  staid  with  the  sick  Man,  and  the  rest  had 
their  Provisions  sent  them. 

Mar.  Well,  and  did  they  agree  among  themselves 
that  staid  upon  Duty? 

Ph.  Not  very  well ;  they  continually  grumbled  some 
thing  about  the  Prerogative  of  their  Bulls  ;  but  they 
were  fain  to  dissemble  the  Matter,  that  they  might  go 
the  better  on  with  their  Work  :  Now  the  Will  is  pro 
duced,  and  Covenants  enter'd  into  before  Witnesses, 
according  to  what  they  had  agreed  upon  between  them 
selves. 

Mar.  I  long  to  hear  what  that  was. 

Ph.  I  '11  tell  you  in  brief,  for  the  whole  would  be  a 
long  History.  He  leaves  a  Widow  of  thirty-eight  Years 
of  Age,  a  discreet  virtuous  Woman  ;  and  two  Sons,  the 
one  of  nineteen,  and  the  other  fifteen  Years  of  Age  ;  and 
two  Daughters,  both  under  Age.  He  provided  by  this 
Testament,  that  his  Wife,  seeing  she  would  not  be  pre- 
vail'd  upon  to  confine  herself  to  a  Cloister,  should  put  on 
the  Habit  of  a  Beguin,6  which  is  a  middle  Order,  between 
a  Laick  and  a  Religious  :  And  the  eldest  Son,  because 
he  could  not  be  prevail'd  upon  to  turn  Monk — 

Mar.  There's  no  catching  old  Birds  with  Chaff." 

Ph.  That  as  soon  as  his  Father's  Funeral  was  over, 
he  should  ride  Post  to  Rome,  and  there  being  made  a 
Priest  before  his  Time,  by  the  Pope's  Dispensation,  he 
should  say  Mass  once  a  Day,  for  one  whole  Year,  in  the 
Lateran  Church,  for  his  Father's  Soul ;  and  creep  up  the 
holy  Steps  there  upon  his  Knees  every  Friday. 

Mar.  And  did  he  take  this  Task  upon  himself 
willingly  ? 


The  Funeral  1 1 

Ph.  To  deal  ingenuously  with  you,  as  willingly  as  an 
Ass  takes  his  Burden.8  His  younger  Son  was  dedicated 
to  St.  Francis,  his  eldest  Daughter  to  St.  Clare,  and  the 
younger  to  Catherine  Senensis.  This  was  all  that  could 
be  obtain'd  ;  for  it  was  George's  Purpose,  that  he  might 
lay  the  greater  Obligation  upon  God,  to  dispose  of  the 
five  Survivors  into  the  five  Orders  of  the  Mendicants  ; 
and  it  was  very  hard  pressed  too  :  But  his  Wife  and  his 
eldest  Son  could  not  be  wrought  upon  by  any  Terms, 
either  fair  or  foul. 

Mar.  Why,  this  is  a  Kind  of  disinheriting. 

Ph.  The  whole  Estate  was  so  divided,  that  the  Funeral 
Charges  being  first  taken  out,  one  Twelfth-Part  of  it  was 
to  go  to  his  Wife  ;  one  Half  of  that  for  her  Maintenance, 
and  the  other  Half  to  the  Stock  of  the  Place  where  she 
should  dispose  of  herself;  upon  Condition,  that  if  she 
should  alter  her  Mind,  the  whole  should  go  to  that  Order. 
Another  Twelfth  was  to  go  to  the  eldest  Son,  who  was 
to  have  so  much  Money  paid  him  down  upon  the  Nail, 
as  would  bear  the  Charges  of  his  Journey,  purchase  him 
a  Dispensation,  and  maintain  him  at  Rome  ;  provided 
always,  that  if  he  should  at  any  Time  change  his  Mind, 
and  refuse  to  be  initiated  into  holy  Orders,  his  Portion 
should  be  divided  between  the  Franciscans  and  Dom 
inicans  :  And  I  fear  that  will  be  the  End  of  it,  for  he 
had  a  strange  Aversion  to  that  Course  of  Life.  Two 
Twelfth-Parts  were  to  go  to  the  Monastery  that  should 
receive  his  younger  Son,  and  two  more  to  those  that 
should  entertain  his  daughters  ;  but  upon  this  Condition, 
that  if  they  should  refuse  to  profess  themselves,  the 
Money  should  go  intire  to  the  Cloister.  And  then  Ber- 
nardine  was  to  have  one  Twelfth,  and  Vincent  another  ; 
a  Half  Share  to  the  Carthusians,  for  the  Communion  of 
the  good  Works  of  the  whole  Order.  The  remaining 
Twelfth  and  Moiety  was  to  be  distributed  among  such 
private  Poor,  as  Bernardine  and  Vincent  should  think 
worthy  of  the  Charity. 


12  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Mar.  It  would  have  been  more  Lawyer-like  to  have 
said  quos  vel  guas,  instead  of  quos  only. 

Ph.  The  Testament  was  read,  and  the  Stipulation  ran 
in  these  Words  :  '  George  Balearicus,  dost  thou,  being 
alive,  and  of  sound  and  disposing  Mind  and  Memory, 
approve  of  this  Testament,  which  thoumadest  long  since 
according  to  thy  own  Mind?  I  approve  it.  Is  this  thy 
last  and  unchangeable  Will?  It  is.  Dost  thou  consti 
tute  me  and  this  Batchelor  Vincent  the  Executors  of  this 
thy  last  Will  ?  I  do  so.'  And  then  he  was  commanded 
to  subscribe  it. 

Mar.  How  could  he  write  when  he  was  dying? 
Ph.  Why,  Bernardine  guided  his  Hand. 
Mar.  What  did  he  subscribe  ? 

Ph.  'Whosoever  shall  attempt  to  violate  this  Testa 
ment,  may  he  incur  the  Displeasure  of  St.  Francis  and 
St.  Dominic.' 

Mar.  But  were  they  not  afraid  to  have  an  Action 
Testamenti  inojficiosi  [of  a  forged  Will]  brought  against 
them  ? 

Ph.  That  Action  does  not  take  Place  in  Things  dedi 
cated  to  God  ;  nor  will  any  Man  willingly  go  to  Law  in 
a  Suit  with  him.  When  this  was  over,  the  Wife  and 
Children  give  the  sick  Man  their  right  Hands,  and  swear 
to  the  Observance  of  his  Directions.  After  this  they  fell 
to  treating  of  the  Funeral  Pomp,  and  there  was  a 
Squabble  about  that  too  :  but  it  was  carried  at  last  that 
there  should  be  nine  out  of  every  one  of  the  five  Orders, 
in  Honour  of  the  five  Books  of  Moses,  and  the  nine 
Choirs  of  Angels  ;  every  Order  to  carry  its  proper  Cross, 
and  sing  the  Funeral  Songs.  To  these,  besides  the 
Kindred,  there  should  be  thirty  Torch-Bearers  hired, 
and  all  in  Mourning,  in  Memory  of  the  thirty  Pieces  of 
Silver  our  Saviour  was  sold  for  ;  and  for  Honour's  Sake, 
twelve  Mourners  to  accompany  them,  as  a  Number 
sacred  to  the  Apostolical  Order.  That  behind  the  Bier 
should  follow  George's  Horse,  all  in  Mourning,  with  his 


The  Funeral  1 3 

Head  ty'd  down  to  his  Knees  in  such  a  Manner,  that  he 
might  seem  to  look  upon  the  Ground  for  his  Master. 
That  the  Pall  should  be  hung  about  with  Escutcheons  ; 
and  that  the  Body  should  be  laid  at  the  right  hand  of 
the  high  Altar,  in  a  marble  Tomb,  some  four  Foot  from 
the  Ground,  and  he  himself  lying  in  Effigy  at  Length  on 
the  top  of  it,  cut  in  the  purest  Marble,0  all  in  Armour 
from  Head  to  Foot.  To  his  Helmet  a  Crest,  which  was 
the  Neck  of  an  Onocrotalus,10  and  a  Shield  upon  his 
left  Arm,  charged  with  three  Boars  Heads  Or,  in  a  Field 
Argent ;  his  Sword  by  his  Side,  with  a  golden  Hilt,  and 
a  Belt  embroider'd  with  Gold  and  Pearl,  and  golden 
Spurs,  he  being  a  Knight  of  the  Golden  Order.  That 
there  should  be  a  Leopard  at  his  Feet,  and  an  Inscription 
on  his  Tomb  worthy  of  so  great  a  Man.  His  Heart  he 
would  have  to  be  buried  separately  in  St.  Francis  his 
Chapel,  and  his  Bowels  he  bequeathed  to  the  Parish,  to 
be  honourably  interr'd  in  our  Lady's  Chapel. 

Mar.  This  was  a  Noble  Funeral,  but  a  dear  one. 
Now,  a  Cobler  at  Venice  should  have  as  much  Honour 
done  him,  and  with  very  little  or  no  Charge  at  all  ;  the 
Company  gives  him  a  handsome  Coffin,  and  they  have 
many  Times  600  Monks,  all  in  their  Habits,  to  attend 
one  Corpse. 

Ph.  I  have  seen  it  myself,  and  could  not  but  laugh  at 
the  Vanity  of  those  poor  People.  The  Fullers  and 
Tanners  march  in  the  Van,  the  Coblers  bring  up  the 
Rear,  and  the  Monks  march  in  the  Body  ;  you  would 
have  said  it  had  been  a  Chimera,11  if  you  had  seen  it. 
And  George  had  this  Caution  too,  that  the  Franciscans 
and  Dominicans  should  draw  Lots  which  should  go  first 
at  the  Funeral,  and  after  them  the  rest,  that  there  might 
be  no  quarrelling  for  Place  :  the  Parson  and  Clerk  went 
in  the  lowest  Place  (that  is,  first)  for  the  Monks  would 
not  endure  it  otherwise. 

Mar.  I  find  George  had  Skill  in  marshalling  of  a 
Ceremony,  as  well  as  an  Army. 


1 4  Colloqu ies  of  Erasmus 

Ph.  And  it  was  provided,  that  the  Funeral  Service, 
which  was  to  be  perform'd  by  the  Parish-Priest,  should 
be  performed  with  a  Concert  of  Musick,  for  the  greater 
Honour  of  the  Deceased.  While  these  and  such  like 
Things  were  doing  the  Patient  was  seiz'd  with  a  Convul 
sion,  which  was  a  certain  Token  that  he  was  near  his 
End  :  so  that  they  were  now  come  to  the  last  Act. 

Mar.  Why,  is  not  all  done  yet  ? 

Ph.  Now  the  Pope's  Bull  is  to  be  read,  wherein  he  is 
promised  a  full  Pardon  of  all  his  Sins,  and  an  Exemption 
from  the  Fear  of  Purgatory ;  and  with  a  Justification 
over  and  above  of  his  whole  Estate. 

Mar.  What,  of  an  Estate  gotten  by  Rapine  ? 

Ph.  Gotten  by  the  Law  of  Arms,  and  Fortune  of  War. 
But  one  Philip  a  Civilian,  his  Wife's  Brother,  happen'd 
to  be  by  at  the  reading  of  the  Bull,  and  took  Notice  of 
one  Passage  that  was  not  as  it  should  be,  and  raised  a 
Scruple  upon  it,  of  its  not  being  authentick. 

Mar.  It  might  very  well  have  been  let  pass  at  this 
Time,  and  no  Notice  taken  of  it,  if  there  had  been  any 
Error,  and  the  Sick  never  the  worse  for  it. 

Ph.  I  am  of  your  Mind,  and  I  '11  assure  you  it  so 
wrought  upon  George,  that  it  had  like  to  have  cast  him 
into  Despair :  and  in  this  Case  Vincent  shew'd  himself 
a  Man  indeed  ;  he  bid  George  be  satisfied,  for  that  he 
had  an  Authority  to  correct  or  supply  any  Error  or 
Omission  that  might  be  in  the  Bull  :  '  So  that,'  says  he, 
'  if  this  Bull  should  deceive  you,  this  Soul  of  mine  shall 
stand  engag'd  for  thine,  that  thine  shall  go  to  Heaven, 
or  mine  be  damn'd.' 

Mar.  But  will  God  accept  of  this  Way  of  changing 
Souls  ?  Or,  if  he  does,  is  the  Pawn  of  Vincent's  Soul  a 
sufficient  Security  for  George's  ?  What  if  Vincent's 
Soul  should  go  to  the  Devil,  whether  he  changes  it 
or  no? 

Ph.  I  only  tell  you  Matter  of  Fact :  It  is  certain  that 
Vincent  effected  this  by  it,  that  the  sick  Man  was  much 


TJie  Funeral  \  5 

comforted.  By-and-by  the  Covenants  are  read,  by  which 
the  whole  Society  promise  to  transfer  to  George  the 
Benefits  of  the  Works  which  were  done  by  all  the  four 
Orders,  and  also  a  Fifth,  that  of  the  Carthusians. 

Mar.  I  should  be  afraid  that  such  a  Weight  would 
sink  me  to  Hell,  if  I  were  to  carry  it. 

Ph.  I  speak  of  their  good  Works  only  ;  for  they  bear 
down  a  Soul  that  is  about  to  fly  to  Heaven,  no  more  than 
Feathers  do  a  Bird. 

Mar.  But  who  will  they  bequeath  their  evil  Works  to 
then? 

Ph.  To  the  German  Soldiers  of  Fortune. 

Mar.  By  what  Right  ? 

Ph.  By  Gospel  Right ;  for,  '  to  him  that  has,  shall  be 
given.'  And  then  was  read  over  how  many  Masses  and 
Psalms  were  to  accompany  the  Soul  of  the  Deceased, 
and  there  was  a  vast  Number  of  them.  After  this,  his 
Confession  was  repeated,  and  they  gave  him  their 
Benediction. 

Mar.  And  so  he  dy'd  ? 

Ph.  Not  yet :  They  laid  a  Mat  upon  the  Ground, 
rolPd  up  at  one  End  in  the  Form  of  a  Pillow. 

Mar.  Well,  and  what 's  to  be  done  now  ? 

Ph.  They  strew'd  Ashes  upon  it,  but  very  thin,  and 
there  they  laid  the  sick  Man's  Body ;  and  then  they 
consecrated  a  Franciscan's  Coat  with  Prayers  and  Holy- 
Water,  and  that  they  laid  over  him,  and  a  Cowl  under 
his  Head  (for  there  was  no  putting  it  on  then)  and  his 
Pardon  and  the  Covenants  with  it. 

Mar.  This  is  a  new  Way  of  dying. 

Ph.  But  they  affirm  that  the  Devil  has  no  Power  over 
those  that  die  in  this  Manner  ;  for  so  they  say  St.  Martin 
and  St.  Francis,  and  others  died. 

Mar.  But  their  holy  Lives  were  correspondent  to  their 
Deaths.  But  prithee,  what  follow'd  ? 

Ph.  They  then  presented  the  sick  Man  with  a  Crucifix, 
and  a  Wax  Candle  :  Upon  the  holding  out  the  Crucifix, 


1 6  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

says  the  sick  Man,  '  I  used  to  be  safe  in  War  under  the 
Protection  of  my  own  Buckler ;  but  now  I  will  oppose 
this  Buckler  to  my  Enemy  : '  and  having  kiss'd  it,  laid  it 
at  his  left  Side.  And  as  to  the  holy  Taper  ;  '  I  was,'  said 
he,  '  ever  held  to  be  a  good  Pikeman  in  the  Field  ;  and 
now  I  will  brandish  this  Lance  against  the  Enemy  of 
Souls.' 

Mar.  Spoken  like  a  Man  of  War  ! 

Ph.  These  were  the  last  Words  he  spake,  for  Death 
presently  seized  his  Tongue,  and  he  breath'd  his  last. 
Bernardine  kept  close  to  him  in  his  Extremity,  on  his 
right  Hand,  and  Vincent  on  his  left ;  and  they  had 
both  of  them  their  Pipes  open  : 12  One  shew'd  him  the 
Image  of  St.  Francis,  the  other  that  of  St.  Dominic  ; 
while  the  rest  up  and  down  in  the  chamber  were  mum 
bling  over  certain  Psalms  to  a  most  melancholy  Tune  ; 
Bernardine  bawling  in  his  right  Ear,  and  Vincent  in 
his  left. 

Mar.  What  was  it  they  bawl'd  ? 

Ph.  Bernardine  spake  to  this  Purpose  :  '  George  Bal- 
earicus,  if  thou  approvest  of  all  that  is  here  done,  lean 
thy  Head  towards  thy  right  Shoulder.'  And  so  he  did. 
Vincent  on  the  the  other  Side  said,  '  George,  fear  not, 
you  have  St.  Francis  and  St.  Dominic  for  your  Defen 
ders,  therefore  be  of  good  Courage  :  Think  on  what  a 
great  Number  of  Merits  are  bestow'd  upon  thee,  of  the 
Validity  of  thy  Pardon  ;  and  remember,  that  I  have 
engaged  my  Soul  for  thine,  if  there  be  any  Danger. 
If  you  understand  all  this,  and  approve  of  it,  lean  your 
Head  upon  your  left  Shoulder.'  And  so  he  did.  And 
then  they  cry'd  out  as  loud  as  before,  '  If  thou  art  sen 
sible  of  all  this,  squeeze  my  Hand  ; '  then  he  squeez'd 
his  Hand  :  so  that,  what  with  turning  of  his  Head,  and 
squeezing  of  the  Hand,  there  were  almost  three  Hours 
spent.  And  when  George  began  to  yawn,  Bernardine 
stood  up  and  pronounced  the  Absolution,  but  could  not 
go  thro'  with  it,  before  George's  Soul  was  out  of  his 


The  Funeral  17 

Body.  This  was  about  Midnight,  and  in  the  Morning 
they  went  about  the  Anatomy. 

Mar.  And  pray  what  did  they  find  out  of  Order  in 
the  Body? 

Ph.  Well  remember'd,  for  I  had  like  to  have  forgot 
it.  There  was  a  piece  of  a  Bullet  that  stuck  to  the 
Diaphragm. 

Mar.  How  came  that? 

Ph.  His  Wife  said  he  had  been  wounded  with  a 
Musket-Shot ;  and  from  thence  the  Physicians  conjec 
tured,  that  some  Part  of  the  melted  Lead  remained  in 
his  Body.  By-and-by  they  put  the  mangled  Corpse 
(after  a  Sort)  into  a  Franciscan's  Habit ;  and  after 
Dinner  they  buried  him  with  Pomp,  as  it  had  been 
ordered. 

Mar.  I  never  heard  of  more  Bustle  about  a  Man's 
dying,  or  of  a  more  pompous  Funeral ;  but  I  suppose 
you  would  not  have  this  Story  made  publick. 

Ph.  Why  not? 

Mar.  Lest  you  should  provoke  a  Nest  of  Hornets. 

Ph.  There  is  no  Danger  ;  for  if  what  I  relate  be  done 
well,  it  is  convenient  the  World  should  know  it  ;  but  if 
it  be  ill  done,  all  good  Men  will  thank  me  for  discover 
ing  it ;  and  they  themselves  being  seized  with  Shame 
for  what  they  have  done,  will  do  so  no  more.  Besides, 
it  may  possibly  preserve  the  Simple  from  falling  into 
the  like  Mistakes  ;  for  some  learned  and  pious  Men 
have  frequently  complained  to  me,  that  the  Superstition 
and  Wickedness  of  some  few  brings  a  Scandal  upon 
the  whole  Order. 

Mar.  This  is  well  and  bravely  said.  But  I  would 
fain  know  what  became  of  Cornelius. 

Ph.  Why  truly,  he  died  as  he  lived,  without  troubling 
any  Body.  He  had  an  anniversary  Fever,  which  took 
every  Year  at  such  a  certain  Time  ;  but  being  now 
worse  than  ordinary,  either  by  Reason  of  Age  (for  he 
was  above  sixty  Years  old)  or  some  other  Cause,  finding 
VOL.  III.  B 


1 8  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

that  his  fatal  Day  was  drawing  on,  he  went  to  Church 
upon  a  Sunday,  four  Days  before  he  died,  confess'd  to 
the  Parish-Priest,  heard  divine  Service  and  the  Sermon, 
and  having  received  the  Sacrament  went  Home. 

Mar.  Had  he  no  Physicians  ? 

Ph.  Only  one,  who  was  as  good  in  Morals  as  he  was 
in  his  Profession  ;  his  Name  is  James  Castrutius. 

Mar.  I  know  him,  as  honest  a  Man  as  any  in  the 
World. 

Ph.  He  told  him,  he  should  be  ready  to  serve  him 
in  any  Thing  he  could  as  a  Friend  ;  but  that  in  his 
Opinion  his  Business  lay  rather  with  God  than  the 
Doctor.  Cornelius  received  this  Answer  as  chearfully, 
as  if  he  had  assured  him  of  his  Recovery.  Wherefore, 
altho'  he  had  been  always  very  charitable  according  to 
his  Power,  yet  he  then  bestow'd  upon  the  Needy  all 
that  he  could  possibly  spare  from  the  Necessities  of  his 
Wife  and  Children,  not  upon  such  as  take  a  seeming 
Pride  in  a  Sort  of  Poverty,  that  are  every  where  to  be 
met  withal,  but  upon  those  good  Men,  that  oppose  a 
laborious  Industry  to  an  innocent  Poverty.  I  desired 
him  that  he  would  betake  himself  to  his  Bed,  and 
send  for  a  Minister  to  him,  rather  than  fatigue  his 
weak  Body.  He  reply'd,  that  it  had  been  always  his 
Desire  rather  to  make  his  Friends  easy  where  he  could, 
by  doing  good  Offices,  than  to  make  himself  troublesom 
to  them  by  receiving  ;  and  that  he  was  now  willing  to 
die  as  he  had  liv'd.  Nor  would  he  take  to  his  Bed  till 
the  very  last  Day,  and  Part  of  the  last  Night,  of  his 
Life.  In  the  Interim  he  supported  his  weak  Body  with 
a  Stick,  or  else  sat  in  a  Chair,  but  very  rarely  went  into 
the  naked  Bed,  but  lay  down  in  his  Cloaths,  his  Head 
being  raised.  And  in  this  Time  he  was  either  giving 
Orders  for  the  Relief  of  the  Poor,  especially  those  of  his 
Acquaintance  and  Neighbours,  or  reading  something  of 
the  Scriptures,  proper  to  strengthen  his  Faith  in  God, 
or  that  shew  his  Love  to  Mankind.  And.  when  he  was 


The  Funeral  19 

so  tired  that  he  could  not  read  himself,  he  heard  some 
Friend  read  to  him  ;  and  would  very  frequently,  and 
with  wonderful  Affection,  exhort  his  Family  to  mutual 
Love  and  Concord,  and  the  Exercise  of  true  Piety ; 
comforting  his  Friends,  who  were  sollicitous  for  his 
Death,  with  great  Tenderness  ;  and  gave  it  often  in 
Charge  to  his  Family,  to  take  Care  to  see  all  his  Debts 
paid. 

Mac.  Had  he  not  made  a  Will  ? 

Ph.  Yes,  a  long  Time  before  ;  he  had  taken  Care  to 
do  that  when  he  was  in  perfect  Health  ;  for  he  was  used 
to  say,  that  what  a  Man  did  at  his  last  Gasp  was  rather 
a  Dotage  than  a  Testament. 

Mar.  Had  he  given  any  Thing  to  Monasteries,  or 
poor  People  ? 

Ph.  No,  not  a  Cross ;  '  I  have,'  says  he,  '  already  in 
my  Life-Time,  given  according  to  my  Ability,  and  now 
as  I  leave  the  Possession  of  what  I  have  to  my  Family, 
I  leave  them  the  disposing  jf  it  too,  and  I  trust  that  they 
will  employ  it  better  than  1  ^ave  done.' 

Mar.  Did  he  send  for  no  holy  Men,  as  George  did  ? 

Ph.  Not  a  Man  :  There  was  no  Body  about  him  but 
his  own  Family  and  two  intimate  Friends. 

Mar.  I  admire  what  he  meant  by  that. 

Ph.  He  said,  he  was  not  willing  to  trouble  more 
People  when  he  went  out  of  the  World,  than  he  did 
when  he  came  into  it. 

Mar.   I  want  to  hear  this  Story  out. 

Ph.  You  shall  hear  it  presently.  Thursday  came, 
and  finding  himself  extremely  weak,  he  kept  his  Bed. 
The  Parish-Priest  being  then  call'd,  gave  him  the 
Extreme  Unction,  and  again  the  Sacrament ;  but  he 
made  no  Confession,  for  he  said  he  had  no  Scruple  upon 
his  Mind.  The  Parson  then  began  to  talk  to  him  about 
his  Burial,  with  what  Pomp,  and  in  what  Place  he  would 
be  buried.  '  Bury  me,'  says  he,  '  as  you  would  bury  the 
meanest  Christian  ;  nor  do  I  concern  myself  where  you 


2O  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

lay  this  worthless  Body  of  mine,  it  will  be  found  all  one 
at  the  Day  of  Judgment  wheresoever  you  lay  it ;  and  as 
to  the  Pomp  of  my  Funeral,  I  matter  it  not.'  When  he 
came  to  mention  the  ringing  of  Bells,13  and  saying 
Masses,  (tricenary  and  anniversary)  Pardons  and  pur 
chasing  a  Communion  of  Merits  ;  he  reply'd,  '  My  good 
Pastor,  I  shall  find  myself  never  the  worse  if  no  Bell  be 
rung  at  all  ;  if  you  will  afford  me  but  one  funeral  Office, 
it  will  abundantly  content  me  ;  but  if  there  be  any  Thing 
else,  that  the  publick  Custom  of  the  Church  has  made 
necessary,  and  that  can't  well  be  omitted  without  Scandal 
to  the  Weak,  I  leave  that  to  your  Pleasure.  Nor  am  I 
at  all  desirous  to  buy  any  Man's  Prayers  or  rob  any 
Man  of  his  Merits  ;  there  is  Merit  enough  in  Christ, 
and  to  spare  ;  and  I  trust  that  I  myself  shall  be  the 
better  for  the  Prayers  and  Merits  of  the  whole  Church, 
if  I  be  but  a  living  Member  of  it.  '  My  whole  Hope  is  in 
these  two  Assurances  ;  the  one  is,  that  the  Lord  Jesus, 
the  chief  Shepherd,  hath  taken  all  my  Sins  upon  him, 
nailing  them  to  his  Cross  ;  the  other  is,  that  which 
Christ  himself  hath  signed  and  sealed  with  his  own  holy 
Blood,  which  gives  us  Assurance  of  eternal  Salvation,  if 
we  place  all  our  Trust  in  him.  Far  be  it  from  me,  to 
insist  upon  being  furnished  with  Merits  and  Pardons, 
and  provoke  my  God  to  enter  into  Judgment  with  his 
Servant,  in  whose  Sight  no  Flesh  living  shall  be  justified  ; 
because  his  Mercy  is  boundless  and  unspeakable,  to  it 
I  appeal  from  his  Justice.7^  The  Parson  hearing  this, 
went  away  ;  and  Cornelius~with  great  Joy  and  Chearful- 
ness  (as  one  transported  with  the  Hope  of  a  better  Life) 
caused  some  Texts  to  be  read  out  of  the  holy  Scriptures, 
that  confirm  the  Hope  of  the  Resurrection,  and  set  before 
him  the  Rewards  of  Immortality  ;  as  that  out  of  Isaiah, 
concerning  the  Death  of  Hezekiah,  together  with  the 
Hymn  ;  and  then  the  fifteenth  Chapter  of  the  first  Epistle 
of  Paul  to  the  Corinthians  ;  the  Death  of  Lazarus  out  of 
John  ;  but  especially  the  History  of  Christ's  Passion, 


The  Funeral  21 

out  of  the  Gospels.  But  O  with  what  Affection  did  he 
take  in  all  these  Scriptures,  sighing  at  some  Passages, 
folding  his  Hands,  as  in  Thankfulness,  at  others  ;  one 
While  rapt  and  overjoy'd  at  some  Passages,  and  another 
While  sending  up  short  Ejaculations  !  After  Dinner, 
having  taken  a  little  Rest,  he  order'd  the  twelfth  Chapter 
of  St.  John  to  be  read,  to  the  End  of  the  Story.  Here 
you  would  have  said  the  Man  was  transfigured  and 
possessed  with  a  new  Spirit.  When  it  grew  toward 
Evening,  he  called  for  his  Wife  and  Children,  and  raising 
himself  as  well  as  he  could,  he  thus  bespake  them  : 
'  My  dear  Wife,  the  same  God  that  once  joined  us 
together,  doth  now  part  us,  but  only  in  our  Bodies,  and 
that  too  for  a  short  Time.  That  Care,  Kindness,  and 
Piety,  that  thou  hast  hitherto  used  to  divide  betwixt  me, 
and  the  tender  Pledg>  j  of  our  mutual  Love,  do  thou 
now  transfer  wholly  ..o  them.  Think  thou  canst  do 
nothing  more  acceptable  either  to  God  or  to  me,  than  to 
educate,  cherish,  and  instruct  those  whom  God  has  given 
us  the  Fruit  of  our  conjugal  Relation,  that  they  may  be 
found  worthy  of  Christ.  Double  therefore  thy  Piety 
upon  them,  and  account  upon  my  Share  too,  as  translated 
unto  thee.  If  thou  shalt  do  this,  as  I  trust  thou  wilt,  they 
will  not  be  accounted  Orphans  ;  and  if  ever  thou  shouldst 
marry  again' — At  which  Word  his  Wife  burst  out  into 
Tears,  and  was  about  to  forswear  ever  to  think  of 
marrying  again  ;  but  Cornelius  interposed  :  '  My  dearest 
Sister  in  Christ,  if  the  Lord  Jesus  shall  vouchsafe  to  thee 
Resolution  and  Strength  of  Spirit,  be  not  wanting  to  the 
heavenly  Gift,  for  it  will  be  more  commodious,  as  well 
for  thyself  as  the  Children.  But  if  the  Infirmity  of  the 
Flesh  shall  carry  thee  another  Way,  know  that  my 
Death  has  indeed  freed  thee  from  the  Bonds  of  Wedlock, 
but  not  from  that  Obligation,  which  in  both  our  Names 
thou  owest  in  common  to  the  Care  of  our  Children.  As 
to  Marriage  itself,  make  Use  of  the  Freedom  that  God 
has  given  thee  ;  only  let  me  intreat  and  admonish  thee 


22  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

of  this  one  thing,  to  make  choice  of  a  Husband  of  such 
a  Disposition,  and  discharge  thyself  so  towards  him, 
that  he,  either  by  his  own  Goodness,  or  for  thy  good 
Carriage,  may  be  kind  to  our  Children.  Therefore  have 
a  Care  of  tying  thyself  up  by  any  Vow  ;  keep  thyself 
free  to  God,  and  to  our  Children,  and  bring  them  up  in 
all  Points  religiously,  and  take  Care  that  they  don't  fix 
upon  any  Course  of  Life,  till  by  Age  and  Experience 
they  shall  come  to  understand  what  is  fittest  for  them.' 
Then  turning  to  his  Children,  he  exhorted  them  to  the 
Study  of  Piety,  Obedience  to  their  Mother,  and  mutual 
Love  and  Concord  among  themselves.  And  having 
done,  he  kiss'd  his  Wife  and  them,  pray'd  for  them,  and 
making  the  Sign  of  the  Cross,  recommended  them  to 
the  Mercy  of  Christ.  And  then  looking  round  upon  all 
about  him,  '  By  to-Morrow  Morning,'  says  he,  '  the  Lord 
who  renew'd  this  Morning  to  me,  will  graciously  please, 
out  of  his  infinite  Mercy,  to  call  this  poor  Soul  of  mine 
out  of  the  Sepulchre  of  my  Body,  and  out  of  the  Dark 
ness  of  this  Mortality,  into  his  heavenly  Light.  I  will 
not  have  you  fatigue  yourselves  in  your  tender  Age  with 
unprofitable  Watching ;  and  as  for  the  rest,  let  them 
take  their  Rest  by  turns  ;  one  is  enough  to  sit  up  with 
me,  and  read  to  me.'  Having  pass'd  the  Night,  about 
four  o'Clock  in  the  Morning,  all  the  Family  being 
present,  he  caused  that  Psalm  to  be  read,  which  our 
Saviour  praying  recited  upon  the  Cross.  And  when  that 
was  done,  he  call'd  for  a  Taper  and  a  Cross,  and  taking 
the  Taper  in  his  Hand,  he  said,  '  The  Lord  is  my  Light 
and  Salvation,  whom  shall  I  fear  ? '  And  then  kissing 
the  Cross,  he  said,  '  The  Lord  is  the  Defender  of  my 
Life,  of  whom  shall  I  be  afraid  ? '  And  by-and-by,  laying 
his  Hands  upon  his  Breast  in  a  praying  Posture,  with 
his  Eyes  lift  up  to  Heaven,  he  said,  'Lord  Jesus,  receive 
my  Spirit ' ;  and  immediately  he  closed  his  Eyes,  as 
if  he  were  only  going  to  Sleep,  and  with  a  gentle 
Breath  delivered  up  his  Spirit.  You  would  have 


The  Funeral  23 

thought  he  had  only  been  in  a  Slumber,  and  had  not 
expired. 

Mar.  I  never  heard  of  a  less  painful  Death  in  my 
Life. 

Ph.  His  Life  was  as  calm  as  his  Death.  These  two 
Men  were  both  of  them  my  Friends,  and  perhaps  I  am 
not  so  good  a  Judge  which  of  them  dy'd  most  like  a 
Christian  ;  but  you  that  are  unbiassed,  may  perhaps 
make  a  better  Judgment. 

Mar.  I  will  think  of  it,  and  give  you  my  Opinion 
some  Time  or  other  at  Leisure. 


ECHO 

THE   ARGUMENT 

A  Discourse  between  a  young  Man  and  an  Echo,  con 
cerning  the  Choice  of  Studies,  and  chusing  the  best  way 
of  Livelihood  ;  the  Echo  facetiously  answering  the  young 
Man's  Interrogatories 

NOTE — It  appears  by  Erasmus's  having  so  frequently  made  Use 
of  Greek  Words  in  the  Echo's  Answer,  that  there  is  a  considerable 
Difficulty  in  this  Way  of  Writing  ;  nor  will  the  English  Tongue 
so  well  bear  it  as  the  Latin,  in  that  it  will  not  allow  that  Trans 
position  of  Words  that  the  Latin  Tongue  will.  It  being  therefore 
very  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  make  the  two  last  Syllables 
answer  by  Way  of  Echo,  I  have  contented  myself  with  a  bare 
Translation  without  it. 

The  YOUNG  MAN  and  the  ECHO 

Yo.  I  have  a  Mind  to  ask  your  advice  about  a  few 
Things,  if  you  are  at  Leisure. 

EC.  I  am  at  Leisure. 

Yo.  And  if  I,  a  young  Man  shall  be  welcome  to  you. 

EC.  You  shall  be  welcome. 

Yo.  And  can  you  tell  me  true  concerning  Things  to 
come,  Echo  ? 

EC.  I  can. 

Yo.  And  do  you  understand  Greek  too  ?  What  novelty 
is  this. 

EC.  I  do. 

Yo.  What  Kind  of  Studies  do  you  think  those  of  the 
Muses  to  be  ? 

EC.  Divine  ones. 

Yo.  Do  you  think  then,  that  those  Authors  that  con 
duce  to  Learning  ought  to  be  studied  ? 


The  Echo  25 

EC.  Do  thou  study  them. 

Yo.  What  is  then  in  their  Minds,  that  speak  con 
temptibly  of  these  Studies? 
EC.  The  Thoughts  of  a  Swine. 

Yo.  But  I  wish  the  Lovers  of  these  were  as  studious 
of  Piety. 

EC.   I  wish  they  were  so. 

Yo.  Now-a-Days  the  Wickedness  of  some  makes  all 
hated. 

EC.  It  does  so. 

Yo.  And  many  lay  the  Sins  of  Man  on  the  Back  of 
Learning. 
EC.  Ay,  Asses. 

Yo.  Why,  but  they  commonly  seem  not  to  be  of  the 
meanest  Sort. 
EC.  They  are  vile  Persons, 

Yo.  What  do  you  think   they  do,  who  spend   their 
Time  in  a  sophistical  Kind  of  Learning?  Perhaps  they 
spin  Cobwebs  ? 
EC.  They  do  so. 

Yo.  And  they  weave  and  unweave  Penelope's  Web. 
EC.  They  do  weave  it. 

Yo.  What  Course  of  Life  do  you  advise  me  to  follow  ? 
EC.  A  safe  one. 

Yo.  Will  it  prove  fortunate  if  I  shall  marry  ? 
EC.  Do  it  late. 

Yo.   But  what  if  it  shall  happen  to  be  my  Lot  to  marry 
an  unchast,  or  extravagant  Wife  ? 
EC.  You  must  bear  it. 

Yo.  Why,  but  it  is  worse  than  Death  itself  to  live 
with  such. 
EC.  It  is  so. 

Yo.  Does  Fortune  so  domineer  in  human  Affairs? 
EC.  Yes,  she  only. 

Yo.  Perhaps  a  Person  had  better  enter  himself  into 
the  Life  of  a  Monk,  than  that  of  Marriage. 
EC.  That  binds  one. 


26  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Yo.  What   Remedy  is   there   left,  when  any  one  is 
bound  by  that  Knot  that  cannot  be  unloosed  ? 
EC.  Melancholy. 

Yo.  Well,  but  it  is  a  miserable  Life  for  Men  to  live  alone. 
EC.  It  is  entirely  so. 

Yo.  What  sort  of  Men  do  you  account  the  Monks  of 
these  Times  to  be  ? 
EC.  A  Trouble. 

Yo.  What  then  makes   some  esteem  them   as  half- 
Gods? 
EC.  Fear. 

Yo.  What  do  most  hunt  after  who  sue  for  a  Benefice  ? 
EC.  Idleness. 

Yo.  Does  a  Priest  get  nothing  else? 
EC.  Yes,  Gain. 

Yo.  What  good  Thing  do  they  get  that  obtain  Bishop- 
ricks? 

EC.  Labours. 

Yo.  But  none  live  more  in  Idleness. 
EC.  I  know  it. 

Yo.  What  Things  will  be  able  to  make  them  think 
and  understand  what  a  great  Burden  they  have  upon 
them  ? 

EC.  Understanding. 

Yo.  Therefore  the  Priesthood  is  an  excellent  Thing, 
if  a  Man  behave  himself  as  he  ought  to  do  in  it. 
EC.  It  makes  him  happy. 

Yo.  What  Advantage  shall  I  have,  if  I  go  into  their 
Court,  who  excel  in  princely  Dignity? 
EC.  Misery. 

Yo.  But  I  see  a  great  many  that  are  wont  to  promise 
themselves  great  Happiness  from  thence. 
EC.  They  are  Blockheads. 

Yo.  But  in  the  mean  Time,  while  they  go  clothed  in 
their  Silks,  the  common  People  look  upon  them  as 
brave  Fellows. 

EC.  They  are  not  worth  a  Fig. 


The  Echo  27 

Yo.  Why  then,  you  speak  of  Men  that  are  golden 
without,  and  wooden  within,  if  any  body  were  but  to 
inspect  them  narrowly? 
EC.  Not  so  good. 

Yo.  Why  then,  those  Men  have  but  little  Excellency 
in  them,  that  being  array'd  in  Silks,  we  worship  as 
Gods? 

EC.  Mischief. 

Yo.  And  perhaps,  you  will  put  no  great  Value  upon 
military  Men  ? 
EC.  A  Farthing. 

Yo.  But  your  Astrologers  that  tell    Fortunes  by  the 
Stars,  promise  great  Things. 
EC.  They  are  Fables. 

Yo.  But  Grammarians  take  a  great  Deal  of  Pains. 
EC.  To  no  Purpose. 

Yo.  I  believe  hungry  greedy  Lawyers  don't  please  you. 
EC.  They  are  Wolves. 

Yo.  What  Sort  of  a  Man  shall  I  be,  if  I  turn  a  Handi 
craft-Man? 

EC.  The  Scum  of  the  People. 

Yo.  What  then,  do   good  nor  bad  Arts  procure  one 
nothing  else  ? 
EC.  A  Maintenance. 

Yo.  Shall  I  be  happy,  if  I  shall  persevere  in  good 
Learning? 
EC.  You  shall. 

Yo.  But  what  will  make  me  pious  ? 
EC.  Age. 

Yo.  I  have  spent  my  Time  this  ten  Years  in  Cicero. 
EC.  O  you  Ass  ! 

Yo.  How  comes  it  into  your  Mind  to  call  me  an  Ass  ? 
EC.  By  the  Thing  itself. 

Yo.  Perhaps,  you  mean  that  I  should  not  so  apply 
myself  to  him,  as  to  leave  off  others? 
EC.  I  do  say  so. 
Yo.  Why  then,  does  not  he  please  you,  that  fatigues 


28  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

himself  all  his  Days,  only  for  this  Purpose,  that  he  may 
become  a  Ciceronian  at  last  ? 

EC.  He  is  a  Madman. 

Yo.  What  is  left  for  them  to  do  that  are  old,  whose 
Age  is  not  seasonable  for  the  learning  these  Things  ? 

EC.  The  Plough-Tail. 

Yo.  I  believe  you  would  be  more  eloquent,  if  you  were 
at  a  greater  Distance. 

EC.  I  should  be  so. 

Yo.  I  don't  like  Words  of  two  Syllables. 

EC.  Go  your  Way. 

Yo.  I  began  first,  and  I  see  I  can't  hinder  your  having 
the  last  Word. 

EC.  Let  me  have  it. 

Yo.    Do  you  now  think  I  am  sufficiently  instructed  to 
perform  those  Things  well,  which  shall  happen  in  Life  ? 

EC.  Yes. 

Yo.  Well  then,  if  you'd  have  me  go  away,  bid  me  be 
gone. 

EC.  Be  gone. 


nOATAAITIA,1  OR,  THE  UNEQUAL 
FEAST 

THE   ARGUMENT 

The  unequal  Entertainment  teaches  Civility  in  entertaining 
Guests.  How  the  Table  should  be  furnished,  that  all  the 
Guests  may  be  pleased,  altho'  of  different  Palates,  Man 
ners,  and  Humours.  That  the  placing  of  the  Company 
may  conduce  much  to  the  making  the  Entertainment 
chearful.  That  the  ordinaries!  Dishes  should  make  the 
first  Course,  and  the  most  delicate  the  last.  That  Drink 
is  to  be  given  to  none,  but  when  they  call  for  it.  Variety 
of  Stories,  suited  to  the  Fancy  of  each  Person,  cause 
Merriment.  Old  Men,  Married  Women,  Sailors,  and 
Merchants,  delight  to  hear  Stories  of  their  own  Occupa 
tions  and  Actions.  All  melancholy  Things,  which  may 
cause  Sadness,  ought  to  be  avoided  :  And  likewise,  so 
must  Drunkenness,  which  often  occasions  Fightings, 
Quarrels,  and  Contentions.  The  Method  of  turning  off 
the  Discourse  when  Persons  are  angry,  etc.  No  one's 
Grief  ought  to  be  called  to  Mind.  Salutations  are  not  to 
be  often  repeated.  That  every  one  should  salute  each 
other.  That  no  Mention  should  be  made  of  the  Goodness, 
Management,  or  Price  of  the  Provision.  A  slender 
Provision  is  to  be  excused  modestly 

SPUD&US,  APITIUS 

Sp.  Soho,  Soho,  Apitius. 
Ap.  I  don't  hear  ye. 
Sp.  Soho,  I  say,  Apitius. 
Ap.  What  troublesom  Fellow  is  this? 
Sp.  I  have  a  Matter  of  Consequence  to  tell  you  of. 
Ap.  And  I  am  going  about  a  Matter  of  Consequence, 
and  in  great  Haste  too. 
Sp.  Whither,  prithee  ? 


30  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Ap.  Why,  to  Supper. 

Sp.  That  was  it  I  wanted  to  talk  with  you  about. 

Ap.  I  have  not  Time  now  to  meddle  with  Talkers  or 
Doers,  lest  I  lose  my  Labour. 

Sp.  You  shall  lose  no  Time,  I  '11  go  along  with 
you. 

Ap.  Well,  tell  me  what  'tis  quickly. 

Sp.  I  am  busy  in  contriving  how  to  make  a  Feast,  so 
as  to  please  all,  and  displease  none  of  my  Guests  ;  and 
knowing  you  to  be  the  principal  Artist  in  this  Scheme,  I 
apply  myself  to  you  as  to  an  Oracle. 

Ap.  Well,  take  this  for  an  Answer,  and,  according  to 
antient  Usage,  in  Verse, 

If  none  you  would  displease,  then  none  invite. 

Sp.  But  'tis  a  publick  Entertainment ;  I  am  under  a 
Necessity  of  having  a  great  many  Guests. 

Ap.  To  be  sure,  the  more  you  invite,  the  more  you 
will  displease :  What  Play  was  so  well  written,  or  so 
well  acted,  as  to  please  the  whole  Theatre  ? 

Sp.  But  come,  Darling  of  the  God  of  Banquets,  assist 
me  with  your  Advice  in  this  Affair,  and  I  will  account 
you  an  Oracle  for  Time  to  come. 

Ap.  Take  this  in  the  first  Place  ;  Don't  attempt  to  do 
that  which  is  impossible  to  be  done. 

Sp.  What 's  that  ? 

Ap.  To  be  a  Master  of  a  Feast,  and  give  Satisfaction 
to  all  your  Guests,  when  there  is  a  great  Variety  of 
Palates. 

Sp.  Well  then,  that  I  may  displease  but  a  few? 

Ap.  Call  but  a  few. 

Sp.  But  that  can't  be. 

Ap.  Then  invite  those  that  are  equals,  and  of  agree 
able  Humours. 

Sp.  I  am  not  at  Liberty  to  do  that  neither  ;  I  can't 
avoid  inviting  a  great  many,  and  of  different  Humours  : 
nor  are  they  all  of  the  same  Speech  or  Nation. 


The  Unequal  Feast  3 1 

Ap.  You  talk  of  a  Bedlam  rather  than  a  Banquet.2 
Here  will  necessarily  arise  such  Confusion,  as  the 
Hebrews  relate  to  have  happened  at  the  Building  of 
Babel,  that  when  one  asks  for  cold  Water,  the  other  will 
bring  him  hot. 

Sp.  But  prithee  help  me  out  at  a  dead  Lift,  you  shall 
find  I  '11  be  both  mindful  of,  and  grateful  for  your  good 
Office. 

Ap.  Well,  come  then,  seeing  you  are  not  at  Liberty 
to  pick  and  chuse  your  Guests,  I  '11  give  you  Advice  in 
this  difficult  Point.  It  signifies  no  small  Matter,  as 
to  the  Mirth  of  the  Entertainment,  what  Places  any  of 
them  sit  in. 

Sp.  That  Js  very  right. 

Ap.  But  to  take  away  all  Occasion  of  Uneasiness, 
let  them  cast  Lots  for  their  Places. 

Sp.  That 's  well  advis'd. 

Ap.  Let  not  your  Dishes  proceed  gradually  from  the 
upper  to  the  lower  End  of  the  Table,  so  as  to  make  the 
Letter  2,  or  rather  in  a  serpentine  Order,  or  to  be 
chang'd  reciprocally  hither  and  thither,  as  the  Myrtle  in 
old  Times  used  to  be  handed  about  at  Banquets. 

Sp.  How  then  ? 

Ap.  To  every  four  Guests  set  four  Dishes,  so  that  the 
fourth  may  be  the  middlemost,  as  Boys  upon  three 
Nuts  set  a  Fourth  ;  in  every  one  of  these  let  there  be  a 
different  Sort  of  Victuals,  that  every  one  may  help 
himself  to  what  he  likes. 

Sp.  Well,  I  like  that  very  well ;  but  how  often  must 
I  change  the  Dishes  ? 

Ap.  How  many  Parts  are  there  in  a  theatrical 
Oration  ? 

Sp.  Five,  I  think. 

Ap.  How  many  Acts  are  there  in  a  Play  ? 
Sp.  I  have  read  in   Horace  that  they  ought  not  to 
exceed  five.3 

Ap.  Well  then,  so  many  different  Courses  you  must 


32  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

have.     Let  the  first  Course   be  Soop,  and  the  last  a 
Dessert  of  Sweetmeats. 

Sp.  What  Order  of  the  Courses  do  you  approve  of? 

Ap.  The  same  that  Pyrrhus  did  in  his  Army. 

Sp.  What  say  you  ? 

Ap.  As  in  an  Oration,  so  at  a  Feast,  the  Preface,  or 
first  Courses  should  not  be  very  delicate ;  and  again, 
the  last  Course  should  rather  excel  in  Variety,  than 
Daintiness.  So  Pyrrhus's  Discipline  consisted  in  three 
Particulars,  that  on  each  Side  there  should  be  some 
thing  excellent,  and  in  the  Middle,  that  which  was  more 
ordinary.  By  this  Method,  it  will  be  so  ordered,  that 
you  will  neither  appear  to  be  sparing,  nor  prodigal  by 
Reason  of  a  cloying  Abundance. 

Sp.  The  Eating-Part  is  well  enough  contriv'd  ;  now 
tell  me  what  is  to  be  done  as  to  drinking  ? 

Ap.  Don't  you  give  the  Cup  to  any  Body  ;  leave  that 
to  your  Servants,  to  ask  every  Body  what  Sort  of  Wine 
he  likes,  and  to  fill  every  one  the  Wine  he  drinks 
readily,  at  the  very  first  Call  or  Nod.  In  this  there 
will  be  a  twofold  Conveniency,  they  will  drink  both 
more  sparingly  and  more  merrily  ;  not  only  because 
every  now  and  then  there  would  otherwise  be  a  different 
Sort  of  Wine  given  them,  but  also  because  no  Body  will 
drink  but  when  he  is  dry. 

Sp.  Upon  my  Word,  this  is  very  good  Advice.  But 
then  how  will  they  all  be  made  merry  ? 

Ap.  That 's  partly  in  your  Power. 

Sp.  How  is  that  ? 

Ap.  You  know  the  old  Proverb,  'A  hearty  Welcome  is 
the  best  Cheer.'4 

Sp.  How  is  that  ? 

Ap.  Entertain  them  courteously,  speak  to  them  with 
a  chearful  Countenance,  ordering  your  Speech  accord 
ing  to  each  Person's  Age  and  Humour. 

Sp.  I  '11  come  nearer  to  you,  that  I  may  hear  the 
better. 


The  Unequal  Feast  3  3 

Ap.  You  understand  Languages  ? 

Sp.  Yes,  most  Languages. 

Ap.  You  must  ever  and  anon  speak  to  every  one  in  his 
own  Tongue  ;  and  that  the  Entertainment  may  be  the 
more  diverting  by  a  Variety  of  Stories,  intermix  such 
Matters  as  every  one  will  remember  with  Pleasure,  and 
no  Body  will  be  uneasy  to  hear. 

Sp.  What  Sort  of  Matters  mean  you  ? 

Ap.  The  peculiar  Differences  of  Dispositions  which 
you  yourself  are  better  vers'd  in  ;  I  will  only  touch  upon 
some  Heads.  Old  Men  take  a  Pleasure  in  relating 
those  Things  that  are  out  of  the  Memory  of  many 
Persons,  and  are  Admirers  of  those  Times,  in  which 
they  were  in  their  Prime.  It's  a  pleasant  Thing  to  a 
married  Woman  to  have  the  Memory  of  that  Time 
refreshed,  when  she  was  courted  by  her  Sweethearts. 
Mariners  that  have  been  in  divers  and  far  distant 
Countries,  take  a  Pleasure  to  tell  of  those  Things  that 
they  have  seen,  and  other  People  admire  at ;  and 
according  to  the  Proverb,  the  Remembrance  of 
Dangers,  when  they  are  over,  is  very  pleasant,  if  they 
are  such  as  have  nothing  opprobrious  in  them,  as  in  the 
Army,  in  Travels,  in  the  Dangers  at  Sea  :  and  in  the 
last  Place,  every  one  loves  to  talk  of  his  own  Calling, 
especially  in  that  Part  that  he  excels  in.  These  are 
some  general  Heads  ;  as  to  particular  Affections  it  is 
not  possible  to  describe  them  ;  but  for  Example  Sake, 
one  is  ambitious  of  Honour,  another  would  be  ac 
counted  learned,  another  loves  to  be  taken  for  a  rich 
Man  ;  one  is  full  of  Talk,  another  is  sparing  of  his 
Speech  ;  some  will  be  surly,  others  on  the  other  Hand 
affable  ;  some  don't  care  to  be  thought  old  when  they 
are  so,  and  some  would  fain  be  thought  older  than  they 
are,  affecting  to  be  admir'd  for  carrying  their  Age  well. 
Some  Women  please  themselves  mightily  in  being 
thought  handsome,  and  some  love  to  be  flattered. 
These  Dispositions  being  known,  it  will  be  no  difficult 

VOL.  III.  C 


34  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Matter  so  to  intermix  Speeches,  as  to  be  pleasing  to 
everyone,  and  to  avoid  those  Things  that  cause  Uneasi 
ness. 

Sp.  Upon  my  Troth,  you  are  excellently  skill'd  in  the 
Art  of  ordering  an  Entertainment. 

Ap.  Phoo  !  if  I  had  spent  as  much  Time,  and  taken 
as  much  Pains  in  the  Study  of  the  Law,  Physick,  or 
Divinity,  as  I  have  spent  upon  this  Art,  I  had  long 
before  now  commenc'd  Doctor  of  them  all: 

Sp.  I  am  of  your  Mind. 

Ap.  But  hark  ye,  that  you  may  not  mistake,  you  must 
be  sure  to  take  Care,  that  your  Stories  be  not  long-winded 
ones,  and  that  they  don't  turn  upon  Drunkenness ;  for 
as  there  is  nothing  better  than  Wine  drank  with 
Moderation,  so,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  nothing 
worse,  if  you  drink  too  much.  It  is  the  same  in  Stories. 

Sp.  You  say  right.  But  what  Remedy  have  you  for 
this? 

Ap.  When  you  perceive  any  dispos'd  to  be  quarrel- 
som,6  take  an  Opportunity  to  break  off  abruptly  from 
what  you  were  saying,  and  talk  of  something  else.  1 
take  it  to  be  unnecessary  to  caution  you  against  bringing 
any  one's  Affliction  to  his  Mind,  during  the  Time  of 
the  Entertainment.  Plato  is  of  Opinion,  that  Banquets 
will  cure  some  Distempers,  the  Wine  driving  away 
Sorrow,  and  making  Persons  forget  what  caused 
Uneasiness  to  them.  But  you  ought  to  be  caution'd 
of  this,  not  to  salute  the  Guests  too  often  ;  yet  I  would' 
have  you  walk  about  sometimes,  and  speak  kindly  first 
to  one,  and  then  to  another ;  for  a  Master  of  a  Feast 
ought  to  act  a  moveable  Part  in  the  Play.  But  then 
again,  there  is  nothing  more  uncivil  than  to  be  con 
tinually  talking  of  the  Sorts  of  Provision,  the  Manner  of 
dressing  it,  and  what  it  cost  you.  It  is  the  same  Thing 
as  to  the  Wine.  Butt  you  should  rather  modestly  under 
value  the  Provision. ;  for  if  you  undervalue  it  too  much, 
it  will  be  much  the  s_ame  as  if  you  were  ostentatious 


35 

concerning  it.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  twice,  or  at  the 
most  three  Times,  '  Much  Good  may 't  do  you  ; '  and, 
'  Tho'  my  Entertainment  is  but  homely,  your  Welcome 
is  hearty.'  Sometimes  you  may  break  a  Jest,  but  such 
a  one  that  has  no  Teeth.  It  will  also  be  proper  to 
bespeak  every  one,  now  and  then,  in  his  own  Tongue, 
but  in  a  few  Words.  But  it  now  [comes  into  my  Mind, 
to  speak  what  I  should  have  said  at  the  beginning. 

Sp.  What  is  it  ? 

Ap.  If  you  han't  a  Mind  to  place  the  Guests  by  Lot, 
take  Care  to  chuse  three  out  of  the  Company,  that  are 
of  a  diverting  Humour,  and  apt  to  talk,  place  one  at  the 
upper  End  of  the  Table,  another  at  the  lower  End,  and 
a  third  in  the  Middle,  that  they  may  keep  the  rest  from 
being  either  silent  or  melancholy.  And  if  you  perceive 
the  Company  grow  either  mute  or  noisy,  and  inclinable 
to  fall  out. — 

Sp.  This  is  very  common  with  our  Countrymen  ;  but 
what  must  be  done  then  ? 

Ap.  Then  take  the  Course  that  I  have  frequently 
experienc'd  to  succeed. 

Sp.  I  want  to  hear  it. 

Ap.  Bring  in  a  Couple  of  Buffoons  or  Jesters,  who  by 
their  Gestures  may  express  some  Argument  without 
speaking  a  Word. 

Sp.  But  why  without  speaking  ? 

Ap.  That  the  Guests  may  be  all  equally  diverted  ;  or, 
if  they  do  speak,  let  them  speak  in  a  Language  that 
none  of  them  understands.  By  speaking  by  Gestures 
they  will  all  understand  alike. 

Sp.  I  can't  very  well  tell  what  you  mean  by  an 
Argument. 

Ap.  There  are  a  Thousand ;  as  suppose,  a  Wife 
fighting  with  the  Husband  for  the  Breeches,0  or  any 
other  such  comical  Transaction  in  low  Life.  And,  as 
to  Dancing,  the  more  ridiculous  it  is,  the  more  diverting 
it  will  be.  These  ought  not  to  be  above  half  Fools  ; 


36  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

for,  if  they  be  downright  Ideots,7  they  will,  before  they 
are  aware,  foolishly  blab  out  what  may  give  Offence. 

Sp.  As  you  have  given  me  good  Advice,  so  I  wish 
that  the  Deity  Comus  may  always  befriend  ye. 

Ap.  I  will  conclude  with  this,  or  rather  repeat  what  I 
said  at  first ;  Don't  be  too  thoughtful  to  please  every 
Body,  not  only  in  this  Affair,  but  in  any  other  Circum 
stance  of  Life,  and  that  will  be  the  Way  to  please  them 
the  sooner  ;  for  it  is  a  good  Maxim  in  Life,  'Too  much 
of  one  Thing  is  good  for  nothing.'8 


OF  THINGS  AND  WORDS 

THE    ARGUMENT 

This  Colloquy  concerning  Things  and  Words,  exposes  the 
preposterous  Judgments  of  some  People,  who  are  more 
ambitious  of  Names,  than  they  are  of  the  Things  them 
selves  ;    to   be   esteemed,   than   to  deserve   Esteem.     In 
aiming  at  Things,   it  is  better  to  be  and  to  have  ;    ii; 
avoiding  Things,  it  is  better  to  be  thought  to  have  them 
and  be  without  them.     It  is  the  worst  of  Frauds  to 
cheat  a  Friend 

BE  A  TUS  and  BONIFACE* 

Be.  God  bless  you,  Boniface. 

Bo.  And  God  bless  you  heartily,  Beatus.  But  I  wish 
we  were  both  of  us  answerable  to  our  Names,  you  rich, 
and  I  handsom. 

Be.  Why  then,  do  you  account  it  so  small  a  Matter  to 
have  a  great  Name  ? 

Bo.  Indeed  I  make  very  small  Account  of  the  Name, 
unless  there  be  the  Thing  too. 

Be.  But  most  Men  are  of  another  Mind. 

Bo.  Perhaps  they  may  be  Mortals,  but  I  don't  take 
'em  to  be  Men. 

Be.  Nay,  good  Man,  they  are  Men,  unless  you  think 
there  are  now-a-Days  Camels  and  Asses  in  the  Shape 
of  Men. 

Bo.  I  should  sooner  be  of  that  Mind,  than  believe 
that  they  can  be  Men,  who  had  rather  have  the  Name 
than  the  Thing  itself. 

Be.  In  some  Sort  of  Things,  I  confess,  that  many  had 
rather  have  the  Thing,  than  the  Name  ;  but  in  many- 
Things  it  is  quite  the  contrary. 


38  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Bo.  I  don't  very  well  take  you  in. 

Be,  We  have  an  Example  of  it  in  ourselves,  you  are 
call'd  Boniface,  and  you  have  what  you  are  call'd ;  but 
if  you  were  to  be  depriv'd  of  either  of  them,  had  you 
rather  have  an  ugly  Face,  or  be  call'd  Cornelius  ? 

Bo.  Why,  indeed,  I  had  rather  be  call'd  Thersites, 
than  have  a  Face  as  ugly  as  the  Devil  ; 2  whether  I  have 
a  handsome  one  now  or  not,  I  can't  tell. 

Be.  Then  again,  if  I  was  rich,  or  must  either  part 
with  my  Wealth  or  my  Name,  I  had  rather  be  call'd 
Irus  than  be  depriv'd  of  my  Estate.  I  grant  what  you 
say  to  be  true  ;  and  I  am  of  Opinion  it  is  the  common 
Temper  of  those  that  enjoy  Health,  and  other  corporal 
Enjoyments. 

Bo.  It  is  probable. 

Be.  But  how  many  may  we  see  that  had  rather  have 
the  Name  of  being  learned  and  pious,  than  to  be  learned 
and  pious  ? 

Bo.  I  know  a  great  many  of  this  Sort  of  People. 

Be.  Well  then,  is  not  the  Name  more  esteem'd  among 
us  than  the  Thing  itself? 

Bo.  So  it  seems  to  be. 

Be.  Now  if  we  had  a  good  Logician,  who  could  pro 
perly  define  what  a  King,  a  Bishop,  a  Magistrate,  and  a 
Philosopher  was,  it  is  very  likely  we  should  find  some 
among  them,  who  are  more  for  the  Name  than  the 
Thing  itself. 

Bo.  He  is  really  a  King  who  aims  at  the  Good  of  his 
People,  and  not  his  own  ;  governing  them  by  Law  and 
Justice  :  And  he  a  Bishop,  who  watches  carefully  over 
the  Lord's  Flock  :  And  he  is  a  Magistrate,  who  sincerely 
studies  the  good  of  the  Publick.  And  a  Philosopher  is 
one,  who  neglecting  the  Goods  of  Fortune,  studies  only 
to  get  the  Endowments  of  the  Mind. 

Be.  By  these  you  may  see  how  many  Examples  of  this 
Kind  I  could  produce. 

Bo.  Why  truly,  a  great  many. 


Of  Things  and  Words  39 

Be.  Will  you  deny  all  these  to  be  Men  ? 

Bo.  I  am  afraid  we  shall  sooner  lose  the  Name  of  Men 
ourselves. 

Be.  But  if  Man  is  a  rational  Animal,  how  contrary 
is  it  to  Reason,  that  in  the  Conveniences,  rather  than 
the  real  Goods  of  the  Body,  and  in  external  Things, 
which  Fortune  gives  and  takes  away  at  her  Pleasure  ; 
we  had  rather  have  the  Thing  itself  than  the  Name  ; 
and  in  the  real  Goods  of  the  Mind,  we  put  more  value 
upon  the  Name  than  the  Thing  itself. 

Bo.  It  is  an  absurd  Way  of  judging,  if  a  Man  did  but 
consider  it  seriously. 

Be.  And  the  Reason  is  quite  the  same  in  those 
Things,  that  are  on  the  contrary  Side. 

Bo.  I  expect  what  you  're  going  to  say. 

Be.  We  may  pass  the  same  Judgment  as  to  the 
Names  of  those  Things  that  are  to  be  avoided,  as  has 
been  given  as  to  those  that  are  to  be  desired. 

Bo.  That 's  plain. 

Be.  For  to  be  a  Tyrant  is  more  to  be  abhorr'd,  than 
to  have  the  Name  ;  and  if  a  Bishop  be  a  bad  Man,  the 
Scripture  calls  him  a  Thief,  and  a  Robber :  These 
Names  are  not  to  be  detested  by  us,  so  much  as  the 
Things  themselves. 

Bo.  In  Truth  I  am  of  your  Mind. 

Be.  Do  you  infer  the  same  as  to  the  rest  ? 

Bo.  I  understand  you  perfectly  well. 

Be.  Don't  all  Fools  hate  to  be  call'd  Fools? 

Bo.  Yes  indeed,  and  more  than  other  Folks. 

Be.  Would  not  he  be  a  Fool  that  should  fish  with  a 
golden  Hook,  and  prefer  Glass  before  Jewels  ?  that 
should  put  more  Value  upon  his  Horses,  than  his  Wife 
and  Children? 

Bo.  He  would  be  a  greater  Fool  than  Ben  of  the 
Minories.3 

Be.  Are  not  they  such  P'ools  that  list  themselves  for 
Soldiers,  and  for  the  Sake  of  a  poor  Pay  expose  Body 


4O  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

and  Soul  to  Danger?  who  make  it  their  Study  to  scrape 
up  Riches,  when  their  Minds  are  destitute  of  all  good 
Science?  who  make  their  Cloaths  and  Houses  fine,  but 
let  their  Minds  lie  neglected  and  slovenly  ?  who  are  very 
careful  to  preserve  their  Bodies  in  Health,  and  take  no 
Care  of  their  Minds,  that  are  sick  of  mortal  Diseases  ? 
and  in  the  last  Place,  who  for  the  Sake  of  enjoying  the 
fleeting  Pleasures  of  this  Life,  deserve  eternal  Torments  ? 

Bo.  Reason  itself  obliges  a  Man  to  confess,  that  they 
are  worse  than  Fools. 

Be.  But  tho'  every  Place  is  full  of  such  Fools  as  these, 
you  can  scarce  find  one  that  can  bear  to  be  call'd  a 
Fool,  tho'  they  have  no  Aversion  to  being  Fools. 

Bo.  It  is  really  so. 

Be.  Come  on,  you  know  every  Body  hates  to  be  call'd 
a  Liar  or  a  Thief. 

Bo.  They  are  very  hateful  Names,  and  not  without 
Reason. 

Be.  But  for  all  that,  tho'  to  debauch  another  Man's 
Wife  is  a  greater  Sin  than  Theft,  some  Glory  in  the 
Name  of  Adulterers  ;  and  if  you  were  to  call  them 
Thieves,  they  would  draw  their  Swords  upon  you. 

Bo.  This  is  a  common  Thing  with  a  great  many. 

Be.  And  again,  tho'  many  give  themselves  up  to 
Whoring,  and  Drinking,  and  do  it  publickly  ;  yet  if  you 
should  call  them  Whoremasters,  they  would  be  highly 
offended  at  it. 

Bo.  These  glory  in  the  Thing,  and  hate  the  Name 
that  belongs  to  it. 

Be.  There  is  scarce  any  Name  that  sounds  harsher  in 
our  Ears,  than  the  Name  of  a  Lyar. 

Bo.  I  know  some  that  would  run  a  Man  thro',  that 
should  affront  them  by  giving  them  the  Lye. 

Be.  But  I  wish  they  did  as  much  abhor  the  Practice. 
Have  you  never  had  it  happen  to  you,  that  he  that  pro 
mised  to  pay  you  what  you  lent  him,  upon  a  certain 
Day,  fail'd  you  ? 


Of  Things  and  Words  41 

Bo.  Ay,  very  often ;  and  tho'  he  had  sworn  to  it  too, 
and  not  only  once,  but  over  and  over. 

Be.  But  it  may  be  they  were  not  able  to  pay. 

Bo.  Nay,  they  were  able  enough,  but  they  thought  it 
more  to  their  Advantage  to  let  it  alone. 

Be.  And  is  not  this  Lying  ? 

Bo.  Ay,  downright. 

Be.  And  did  you  dare  to  say  to  this  Debtor,  Why 
have  you  told  me  so  many  Lyes  ? 

Bo.  No,  not  except  I  had  a  Mind  to  fight  him  too. 

Be.  Well,  and  in  like  Manner  do  not  Masons,  Smiths, 
Goldsmiths,  and  Taylors  promise  Things  upon  a  certain 
Day  ;  and  don't  perform  it,  altho'  it  is  of  great  Concern 
to  you  ? 

Bo.  Ay,  and  are  not  at  all  asham'd  of  it :  And  you 
may  add  to  these,  such  Persons  as  promise  to  do  you  a 
Kindness. 

Be.  Ay,  you  might  give  a  thousand  Instances  more, 
not  one  of  which  would  bear  to  have  the  Lye  given 
them. 

Bo.  The  World  abounds  with  these  Lyes. 

Be.  So  in  like  Manner  no  Body  will  bear  to  be  call'd 
Thief,  when  at  the  same  Time,  they  have  not  the  same 
Abhorrence  of  stealing. 

Bo.  I  would  have  you  tell  me  plainly. 

Be.  What  Difference  is  there  between  him  that  steals 
a  Thing  out  of  your  Escritoire,  and  him  that  forswears 
what  you  have  deposited  with  him? 

Bo.  No  Difference  but  this,  that  he's  the  more  wicked 
Man  that  robs  him  who  reposes  a  Confidence  in  him. 

Be.  But  how  few  are  there  that  do  restore  that  which 
has  been  put  into  their  hands?  or,  if  they  do  restore  the 
whole. 

Bo.  I  believe  but  very  few. 

Be.  But  yet  not  one  of  them  will  bear  to  be  call'd  a 
Thief,  tho'  he  has  no  Aversion  to  the  Thing  itself. 

Bo.  This  is  very  common. 


42  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Be.  Now  do  but  reckon  up  with  me,  what  is  commonly 
done  in  the  Management  of  the  Estates  of  Orphans,  as 
to  Wills  and  Legacies  ;  how  much  sticks  to  the  Fingers 
of  the  Managers  ? 

Bo.  Very  often  the  whole. 

Be.  They  love  Thieving  but  hate  the  Name  of  it. 

Bo.  'Tis  true. 

Be.  What  do  Collectors  and  Coiners  of  publick 
Money  do,  who  either  coin  it  with  too  great  an  Allay,4 
or  too  light  ?  Or  they  who  raise  and  fall  the  Exchange 
of  Money  for  private  Ends  ?  Tho'  we  don't  very  well 
understand  the  Reason  of  it,  yet  we  may  speak  of  what 
we  experience  daily.  He  that  borrows,  or  runs  in  Debt 
with  Design  never  to  pay,  altho'  he  be  able,  differs  very 
little  from  a  Thief. 

Bo.  He  may  probably  be  said  to  be  more  wary,  but 
not  more  honest. 

Be.  But  notwithstanding  there  is  so  great  a  Number, 
yet  none  of  them  can  endure  the  Name  of  a  Thief. 

Bo.  God  alone  knows  the  Heart  ;  and  for  that  Reason, 
among  Men,  those  that  run  themselves  over  Head  and 
Ears  in  Debt,  are  not  call'd  Thieves. 

Be.  What  signifies  what  Men  call  them,  if  God  ac 
counts  them  Thieves  ?  Surely  every  one  knows  his  own 
Mind.  And  besides,  he  that  owes  a  great  Deal  of 
Money  and  yet  dishonestly  lavishes  away  what  Money 
he  gets  ;  and  after  he  has  broke,  and  cheated  his 
Creditors  in  one  City,  runs  into  another,  hunting  about 
for  People  to  cheat ;  the  oftner  he  does  so,  does  not  he 
declare  the  more  plainly  what  he  is  at  Heart  ? 

Bo.  Ay,  too  plainly ;  but  they  oftentimes  gloss  over 
the  Matter. 

Be.  How? 

Bo.  They  pretend  that  this  is  a  common  Practice  with 
great  Men,  and  Kings,  to  owe  a  great  Deal  of  Money, 
and  to  a  great  many  Persons  ;  and  therefore  they  that 
are  of  this  Disposition  more  resemble  great  Men. 


Of  Things  and  Words  43 

Be.  What  Use  would  they  make  of  that  ? 

Bo.  It  is  admirable,  what  great  Liberty  they  would 
have  allowed  to  Knights. 

Be.   But  by  what  Right,  or  by  what  Law? 

Bo.  Just  the  same  that  the  Lord  of  the  Manor  shall 
claim  to  himself,  whatsoever  is  cast  a-Shorefrom  a  Ship 
wreck,5  altho'  there  be  a  right  Owner  of  it  ;  or  by  which 
other  Persons  would  keep  to  their  own  Use,  what  they 
take  from  a  Highway- Man  after  he  has  been  appre 
hended. 

Be.  Robbers  themselves  might  make  such  Laws. 

Bo.  Ay,  and  they  would  too,  if  they  knew  how  to 
maintain  them  ;  and  they  would  have  enough  to  plead 
in  excuse  of  them,  if  they  did  but  denounce  War  before 
they  committed  the  Robbery. 

Be.  Who  gave  Knights  this  Privilege  above  the 
Commons  ? 

Bo.  The  Law  of  Arms ;  for  thus  they  are  train'd  up 
for  War,  that  they  may  be  more  expert  at  plundering  the 
Enemy. 

Be.  I  believe  it  was  after  this  Manner  that  Pyrrhus 
train'd  his  Soldiers  up  to  War. 

Bo.  No,  but  the  Lacedemonians  did. 

Be.  A  Mischief  take  them,  and  their  whole  Army  too. 
But  how  came  this  Title  to  have  so  great  a  Prerogative  ? 

Bo.  Some  have  it  by  Descent,  some  purchase  it  with 
Money,  and  some  take  it  to  themselves. 

Be.  And  may  any  Body  have  it  that  will  ? 

Bo.  Yes,  he  may,  if  his  Manners  but  be  answerable  to 
theirs. 

Be.  What  are  they  ? 

Bo.  Never  to  be  guilty  of  doing  a  good  Action,  to  go 
fine,  wear  a  Diamond  Ring,  whore  stoutly,  game  con 
tinually,  spend  his  Life  in  Drinking  and  Diversion,  speak 
of  nothing  that's  Mean,  be  continually  cracking  of 
Castles,'Duels,  Battles,  and  every  Thing  that  looks  great  : 
They  take  the  Liberty  of  quarrelling  with  whom  they 


44  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

have  a  Mind,  altho'  they  han't  a  Foot  of  Land  of  their 
own  to  set  their  Feet  upon. 

Be.  Such  Knights  as  these  deserve  to  be  mounted 
upon  the  Wooden  Horse6  :  But  there  are  a  great  many 
such  Knights  in  Gelderland. 


CHARON 

THE   ARGUMENT 

Charon  detests  Christians  fighting  one  with  another.     An 

evil  Genius  brings  News  to  Charon,  that  all  the  Earth 

was  up  in  Arms  for  War :  Ossa,  the  Goddess  Fame  in 

Homer,  the  Monks  and  Jesuits,  are  the  Incendiaries 

CHARON,  Genius  ALAS  TO R^ 

Ch.  Whither  are  you  going  so  brisk,  and  in  such 
Haste,  Alastor? 

Al.  O  Charon,  you  come  in  the  Nick  of  Time,  I  was 
coming  to  you. 

Ch.  Well,  what  news  do  you  bring  ? 

Al.  I  bring  a  Message  to  you  and  Proserpine,  that 
you  will  be  glad  to  hear. 

Ck.  Out  with  what 'you  have  brought,  and  lighten 
your  Burden. 

Al.  The  Furies  have  been  no  less  diligent  than  they 
have  been  successful,  in  gaining  their  Point :  there  is 
not  a  Foot  of  Ground  upon  Earth,  that  they  have  not 
infected  with  their  hellish  Calamities,  Seditions,  Wars, 
Robberies,  and  Plagues  ;  so  that  they  are  grown  quite 
bald,  having  shed  their  Snakes,  and  having  quite  spit  all 
their  Venom,  they  ramble  about  in  search  after  whatever 
they  can  find  of  Vipers  and  Asps  ;  being  become  as 
smooth  as  an  Egg,  not  having  so  much  as  a  single  Hair 
upon  their  Heads,  and  not  one  Drop  of  Venom  more  in 
their  Breasts.  Do  you  get  your  Boat  and  your  Oars 
ready ;  you  will  have  such  a  vast  Multitude  of  Ghosts 
come  to  you  anon,  that  I  'm  afraid  you  won't  be  able  to 
carry  them  all  over  yourself. 


46  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Ch,  I  could  have  told  you  that. 

AL  How  came  you  to  know  it  ? 

Ch,  Ossa  brought  me  that  News  above  two  Days  ago. 

Al.  Nothing  is  more  swift  than  that  Goddess.  But 
what  makes  you  loitering  here,  having  left  your  Boat  ? 

Ch.  My  Business  brought  me  hither  ;  I  came  hither 
to  provide  myself  with  a  good  strong  Three-Oar' d  Boat : 
for  my  Boat  is  so  rotten  and  leaky  with  Age,  that  it  will 
not  carry  such  a  Burden,  if  Ossa  told  me  true.  But, 
indeed,  what  Need  was  there  of  Ossa  ?  for  the  Thing- 
shews  itself,  for  I  have  suffered  Shipwreck  already. 

Al.  Indeed  you  are  dropping  dry,  I  fancied  you  were 
just  come  out  of  a  Bath. 

Ch.  No,  I  swam  out  of  the  Stygian  Lake. 

Al.  Where  did  you  leave  the  Ghosts  ? 

Ch.  They  are  swimming  among  the  Frogs. 

AL  But  what  was  it  that  Ossa  told  you  ? 

Ch.  That  the  three  Monarchs  of  the  World  were  bent 
upon  one  another's  Destruction  with  a  mortal  Hatred, 
and  that  there  was  no  Part  of  Christendom  free  from 
the  Rage  of  War ;  for  these  three  have  drawn  all  the 
rest  in  to  be  engag'd  in  the  War  with  them.  They  are 
all  so  haughty,  that  not  one  of  them  will  in  the  least 
submit  to  the  other  :  Nor  are  the  Danes,  the  Poles,  the 
Scots,  nor  the  Turks  at  Quiet,  but  are  preparing  to  make 
dreadful  Havock.  The  Plague  rages  every  where,  in 
Spain,  Britain,  Italy,  and  France  ;  and  more  than  all, 
there  is  a  new  Fire  sprung  out  of  the  Variety  of  Opinions, 
which  has  so  corrupted  the  Minds  of  all  Men,  that  there 
is  no  such  Thing  as  sincere  Friendship  any  where  ;  But 
Brother  is  at  Enmity  with  Brother,  and  Husband  and 
Wife  cannot  agree.  And  it  is  to  be  hop'd,  that  this 
Distraction  will  be  a  glorious  Destruction  of  Mankind, 
if  these  Controversies,  that  are  now  managed  by  the 
Tongue  and  the  Pen,  come  once  to  be  decided  by  Arms. 

Al.  All  that  fame  has  told  you  is  very  true  ;  for  I  my 
self,  having  been  a  constant  Companion  of  the  Furies, 


Charon  47 

have  with  these  Eyes  seen  more  than  all  this,  and  that 
they  never  at  any  Time  have  approv'd  themselves  more 
worthy  of  their  Name,  than  now. 

Ch.  But  there  is  Danger,  lest  some  Good  Spirit 
should  start  up,  and  of  a  sudden  exhort  them  to  Peace  : 
And  Men's  Minds  are  variable,  for  I  have  heard,  that 
among  the  Living  there  is  one  Polygraphus,2  who  is 
continually,  by  his  Writing,  inveighing  against  Wars, 
and  exhorting  to  Peace. 

Al.  Ay,  ay,  but  he  has  a  long  Time  been  talking  to 
the  Deaf.  He  once  wrote  a  Sort  of  Hue  and  Cry  after 
Peace,  that  was  banish'd  or  driven  away  ;  and  after  that, 
an  Epitaph  upon  Peace  defunct.  But  then,  on  the 
other  Hand,  there  are  others  that  advance  our  Cause 
no  less  than  the  Furies  do  themselves. 

Ch.  Who  are  they  ? 

AL  They  are  a  certain  Sort  of  Animals  in  black  and 
white  Vestments,  Ash-colour'd  Coats,  and  various  other 
Dresses,  that  are  always  hovering  about  the  Courts  of 
Princes,  and  are  continually  instilling  into  their  Ears 
the  Love  of  War,3  and  exhorting  the  Nobility  and 
common  People  to  it,  haranguing  them  in  their 
Sermons,  that  it  is  a  just,  holy  and  religious  WatfixAnd 
that  which  would  make  you  stand  in  admiration  at  the 
Confidence  of  these  Men,  is  the  Cry  of  both  Parties. 
In  France  they  preach  it  up,  that  God  is  on  the  French 
Side,  and  they  can  never  be  overcome,  that  have  God 
for  their  Protector.  In  England  and  Spain  the  Cry  is, 
the  War  is  not  the  King's,  but  God's  ;  therefore,  if  they 
do  but  fight  like  Men,  they  depend  upon  getting  the 
Victory;  and  if  any  one  should  chance  to  fall  in  the  Battle, 
he  will  not  die,  but  fly  directly  up  into  Heaven,  Arms 
and  all. 

Ch.  And  is  Credit  given  to  all  this? 

Al.  What  can't  a  well-dissembled  Religion  do?  when 
to  this  there  is  added  Youth,  Unexperiencedness, 
Ambition,  a  natural  Animosity,  and  a  Mind  propense  to 


48  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

any  Thing  that  offers  itself.  It  is  an  easy  Matter  to 
impose  upon  such  ;  it  is  an  easy  Matter  to  overthrow  a 
Waggon,  that  was  inclining  to  fall  before. 

Ch.  I  would  do  these  Animals  a  good  Turn  with  all 
my  Heart. 

Al.  Prepare  a  good  Treat ;  you  can  do  nothing  that 
will  be  more  acceptable  to  them. 

Ch.  What,  of  Mallows,  and  Lupines  and  Leeks?  for 
you  know  we  have  no  other  Provision  in  our  Territories. 

Al.  No,  but  of  Partridges,  and  Capons,  and  Pheasants, 
if  you  would  have  them  look  upon  you  as  a  good 
Caterer. 

Ch.  But  what  is  it  that  moves  these  People  to  be  so 
hot  for  War?  What  will  they  get  by  it ? 

Al.  Because  they  get  more  by  those  that  die,  than 
those  that  live.  There  are  last  Wills  and  Testaments, 
Funeral  Obsequies,  Bulls,  and  a  great  many  other 
Articles  of  no  despicable  Profit.  And  in  the  last  Place, 
they  had  rather  live  in  a  Camp,  than  in  their  Cells. 
War  breeds  a  great  many  Bishops,  who  were  not 
thought  good  for  any  Thing  in  a  Time  of  Peace. 

Ch.  Well,  they  understand  their  Business. 

Al.  But  what  Occasion  have  you  for  a  new  Boat  ? 

Ch.  None  at  all,  if  I  had  a  Mind  to  be  wreck'd  again 
in  the  Stygian  Lake. 

Al.  How  came  that  about?  because  you  had  too 
large  a  Company? 

Ch.  Yes. 

Al.  But  you  carry  Shadows,  not  Bodies. 

Ch.  Let  them  be  Water-Spiders,  yet  there  may  be 
enough  of  them  to  overload  a  Boat ;  and  then  you 
know  my  Boat  is  but  a  shadowy  Boat  neither. 

Al.  But  I  remember  once  upon  a  Time,  when  you 
had  a  great  Company,  so  many  that  your  Boat  would 
not  hold  them,  I  have  seen  three  thousand  hanging 
upon  your  Stem,  and  you  were  not  sensible  of  any 
Weight  at  all. 


Charon  49 

C/i.  I  confess  there  are  such  Sorts  of  Ghosts  ;  those 
are  such  as  pass  slowly  out  of  the  Body,  being  reduced 
to  little  or  nothing  with  Consumptions,  and  Hectick- 
Fevers.  But  as  for  those  that  are  torn  of  a  sudden  out 
of  gross  Bodies,  they  bring  a  great  Deal  of  corpulent 
Substance  along  with  them  ;  such  as  are  sent  hither  by 
Apoplexies,  Quinseys,  Pestilences,  and  especially  by 
War. 

A  I.  I  don't  think  the  French  or  Spaniards  bring  much 
Weight  along  with  them. 

Ch.  Much  less  than  the  rest ;  but  for  all  that,  their 
Ghosts  are  not  altogether  so  light  as  Feathers  neither. 
But  as  for  the  Englishmen  and  Germans  that  feed  well, 
they  come  sometimes  in  such  Case,  that  I  was  lately  in 
Danger  of  going  to  the  Bottom  in  carrying  only  ten  ; 
and  unless  I  had  thrown  some  of  my  Lading  over- 
Board,  I  had  been  lost,  Boat,  Passengers,  and  Boat' 
Hire,  all  together. 

Al.  You  were  in  great  Danger  then  indeed. 

Ch.  But  what  do  you  think  I  must  do,  when  so  many 
fat  Lords,  Hectors,  and  Bullies,  shall  come  to  us  ? 

Al.  As  for  those  that  die  in  a  just  War,  I  suppose 
none  of  them  will  come  to  you  ;  for  they  say,  they  fly 
bolt  upright  into  Heaven. 

Ch.  I  can't  tell  where  they  fly  to  ;  but  this  I  am  sure 
of,  as  often  as  there  is  a  War,  there  come  so  many 
Wounded  and  Cripples  to  me,  that  I  admire  that  there 
should  be  one  Soul  left  above  Ground  ;  and  they  come 
over-charg'd,  not  only  with  Surfeits  and  Paunch-Bellies, 
but  with  Bulls,  Benefices,  and  a  great  many  other 
Things. 

Al.  But  they  don't  bring  these  Things  along  with 
them,  but  come  naked  to  you  ? 

Ch.  True  ;  but  at  their  first  coming,  they  bring  the 
Dreams  of  all  these  Things  along  with  them. 

Al.  Are  Dreams  so  heavy  then  ? 

Ch.  They  load  my  Boat ;    load  it,  did  I  say  ?   nay, 

VOL.  III.  D 


50  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

they  have  sunk  it  before  now.  And,  in  the  last  Place, 
do  you  think  so  many  Halfpence  don'c  weigh  any 
Thing  ? 

Al.  Yes,  I  believe  they  do,  if  they  bring  Brass  ones. 

Ck.  Therefore  I  am  resolv'd  to  look  out  for  a  Vessel, 
that  shall  be  fit  for  my  Cargo. 

AL  You're  a  happy  Fellow. 

Ch.  Wherein? 

AL  Because  you'll  get  an  Estate  in  a  Trice. 

Ch.  What,  out  of  a  Multitude  of  Ghosts? 

Al.  Yes,  indeed. 

Ch.  Ay,  if  they  did  but  bring  their  Wealth  along  with 
them.  But  now  they  sit  in  my  Boat,  bewailing  them 
selves  for  the  Kingdoms,  and  Dignities,  and  Abbacies, 
and  the  innumerable  Talents  of  Gold  they  have  left 
behind  them,  and  bring  me  nothing  but  a  poor  Half 
penny  :  So  that  all  I  have  been  scraping  together  for 
those  three  thousand  Years,  will  go  for  the  purchase  of 
a  new  Boat. 

Al.  They  that  expect  Gain,  must  be  at  some 
Charge. 

Ch.  But  the  People  in  the  World  have  better  Trading, 
I  hear ;  for,  if  Fortune  favour  them,  they  can  get  an 
Estate  in  three  Years'  Time. 

Al.  Ay,  and  sometimes  turn  Bankrupts  too  ;  tho' 
your  gain  is  less,  it  is  more  certain. 

Ch.  I  can't  tell  how  certain  it  is,  if  any  Deity  should 
start  up,  and  make  Peace  among  the  Princes,  all  this 
goodly  Expectation  of  mine  is  knock'd  on  the  Head  at 
once. 

Al.  As  to  that  Matter,  I  '11  take  upon  me  to  be  your 
Security,  so  that  you  may  set  your  Heart  at  Rest.  You 
have  no  Reason  to  fear  a  Peace  for  these  ten  Years  : 
The  Pope  is  the  only  Man  that  persuades  them  to  come 
to  an  Agreement  among  themselves  ;  but  he  had  as  good 
keep  his  Breath  to  cool  his  Porridge.4  The  Cities  mur 
mur  at  the  Load  of  Calamities  they  lie  under  ;  and  some 


Charon  5 1 

there  are,  I  can't  tell  who,  that  whisper  it  about,  that  it 
is  an  unreasonable  Thing,  that  the  whole  World  should 
be  turned  upside  down,  for  the  private  Piques  and 
Ambitions  of  two  or  three  Persons.  But  for  all  this, 
take  my  Word  for  it,  the  Furies  will  get  the  better  of 
it,  let  these  Attempts  be  as  promising  as  they  will.  But 
what  Occasion  had  you  to  come  into  this  World  to  get 
a  Boat  ?  han't  we  Workmen  enough  among  ourselves  ? 
We  have  Vulcan,  have  we  not  ? 

Ch.  Ay,  right,  if  I  wanted  a  Boat  of  Brass. 

Al.  Or,  you  may  send  for  a  Workman  for  a  small 
Matter. 

Ch.  I  might  do  that,  but  I  want  Materials. 

Al.  What  say  you?  Are  there  no  Woods  in  this 
Country  ? 

Ch.  All  the  Woods  in  the  Elysian  Fields  are  de- 
stroy'd. 

A  I.  In  doing  what  ? 

Ch.  In  burning  Hereticks'  Ghosts,  so  that  of  late,  for 
Fuel  we  have  been  forc'd  to  dig  for  Coals  in  the 
Bowels  of  the  Earth. 

Al.  What,  could  not  Ghosts  be  punish'd  at  a  less 
Charge  than  that  ? 

Ch.     Rhadamanthus  (the  Judge)  would  have  it  so. 

Al.  If  it  be  so,  when  you  have  got  a  Boat,  where  will 
you  get  Oars  ? 

Ch.  It  is  my  Business  to  steer,  let  the  Ghosts  row 
themselves,  if  they  have  a  Mind  to  get  over. 

AL  But  some  of  them  never  learned  to  row. 

Ch.  I  have  no  Respect  for  Persons,  Kings  and 
Cardinals  row  with  me ;  every  one  takes  his  Turn, 
as  much  as  the  poorest  Peasant,  whether  they  have 
learned  to  row  or  not. 

Al.  Well,  do  you  see  and  get  a  Boat  as  cheap  as  you 
can,  I  won't  detain  you  any  longer,  I  '11  away  to  Hell 
with  my  good  News  ;  But,  soho,  soho,  Charon  ! 
Ch.  What 's  the  Matter  ? 


52  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Al.  Make  Haste,  and  get  back  as  soon  as  you  can, 
lest  you  be  smothered  in  the  Crowd. 

Ch.  Nay,  you'll  find  at  least  Two  hundred  thousand 
upon  the  Bank  already,  besides  those  that  are  paddling 
in  the  Lake.  I  '11  make  what  Haste  I  can  ;  and  do  you 
tell  them  I  shall  be  there  presently. 


THE  ASSEMBLY  OF  GRAMMARIANS 

THE   ARGUMENT 

In  this  Colloquy  a  certain  Carthusian  is  ridicul'd,  a 
mighty  Pretender  to  the  Greek  Tongue,  and  a  very 
learned  Man  in  his  own  Opinion,  who  gave  his  Book  a 
Greek  Title,  calling  those  Anticomaritas,  which  he  should 
rather  have  call'd  Antimarians,  or  Antidicomarians. 
The  whole  Club  of  Grammarians  dispute  about  this 
Word,  and  trump  up  a  great  many  Etymologies  of  it. 
At  last  they  come  to  this  Resolution,  to  call  the  Author  of 
that  Word,  Archimorita 

ALBINUS,  BERTULPHUS,  CANTHELUS,  DIPHILUS. 
EUMENIUS,  FABULLUS,  GADITANUS 

Al.  Is  there  any  Body  here  that  understands  Arith- 
metick  ? 

Ber.  For  what  ? 

Al.  To  cast  up  exactly  how  many  Grammarians  there 
are  of  us. 

Ber.  That  may  be  done  without  a  Counting-Table, 
we  may  count  upon  our  Fingers  ;  I  count  you  upon  my 
Thumb,  myself  upon  my  fore  Finger,  Canthelus  upon 
my  middle  Finger,  Diphilus,  upon  my  Ring-Finger, 
and  Eumenius  upon  my  little  Finger  :  and  now  I  go  to 
my  left  Hand  ;  there  I  count  Fabullus  upon  my  Thumb, 
and  Gaditanus  on  my  fore  Finger  ;  so  that,  unless  I  am 
out  in  my  Account,  we  are  seven  of  us.  But  to  what 
Purpose  is  it  for  us  to  know  that  ? 

Al.  Because,  as  I  have  heard,  the  Number  Seven 
makes  up  a  compleat  Council. 

Ber.  What  makes  you  talk  of  a  Council  ? 

Al.  There  is  a  Matter  of  Moment  that  has  puzzled 


54  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

me  a  long  Time,  and  not  me  alone,  but  a  great  many 
other  Men  of  no  mean  Learning  ;  I  will  propose  it,  that 
the  Question  may  be  decided  by  the  Authority  of  this 
Assembly. 

Can.  Sure  it  must  be  some  knotty  Subject,  that  you 
can't  decide  it  yourself,  Albinus ;  or  that  it  should 
puzzle  you,  that  are  of  so  penetrating  a  Judgment. 
Therefore  we  desire  to  know  what  this  difficult  Matter 
is.  I  speak  in  the  Name  of  all  the  rest. 

Al.  Well  then,  do  you  all  be  very  attentive,  applying 
both  your  Ears,  and  your  Minds  ;  Two  heads  are  better 
than  one.  Is  there  any  one  of  you  all  that  can  explain 
what  is  the  Meaning  of  this  Word  Anticomarita  ? 

Ber.  That's  the  easiest  Thing  in  the  World,  for  it 
signifies  a  Kind  of  a  Beet,  which  the  Antients  call'd  a 
Water-Beet,  having  a  knotty  wreathed  Stalk,  very 
insipid,  but  of  a  very  stinking  Smell,  if  you  touch  it ;  so 
that  it  may  vie  with  the  Bean-Cod  Tree. 

Can.  A  Natatile  Beet,  do  you  say  ?  Nay,  rather  a 
Cacatile  Beast.1  Who  ever  heard  of,  or  even  read  the 
Name  of  a  swimming  Beet? 

Ber.  Yes,  Mammotrectus  (as  he  is  corruptly  call'd) 
which  should  be  pronounc'd  Mammothreptos,  as  tho' 
you  should  say  his  Grandmother's  Darling,  has  made 
this  as  plain  as  the  Nose  in  a  Man's  Face. 

Al.  What  Sort  of  a  Title  is  that  ? 

Ber.  This  is  to  give  you  to  understand,  that  there 
is  nothing  in  the  Book  but  darling  Things,  because 
Mamma's,  i.e.  Grandmothers,  are  wont  to  be  more  fond 
of  their  Grand-Children,  than  their  Mothers  themselves 
are  of  their  own  Children. 

Al.  You  talk  of  a  darling  Work  indeed.  I  happen'd 
lately  to  dip  into  this  Book,  I  e'en  burst  my  Sides  with 
laughing. 

Can.  Where  did  you  get  that  Book?  it  is  very 
scarce. 

Ber.  Being  at  Dinner  at  Bruges,  Livinus,  the  Abbot 


The  Assembly  of  Grammarians  55 

of  Bavo,  carried  me  into  his  private  Library,  which  the 
old  Gentleman  had  furnish'd  with  scarce  Books  at  a 
vast  Expense,  being  desirous  to  leave  some  Monument 
of  himself  to  Posterity.  There  was  not  a  Book,  but 
what  was  a  Manuscript,  and  upon  Vellum  too,  and 
illuminated  with  various  Pictures,  and  bound  in  Velvet, 
and  emboss'd  with  Gold.  And  besides,  there  being  a 
vast  Number  of  them,  they  made  a  very  stately  Shew. 

Al.  What  Books  were  they? 

Ber.  They  were  all  excellent  Books  ;  there  was  the 
Catholicon,  Brachylogus,  and  Ovid  expounded  allegori- 
cally,  and  Abundance  of  others  ;  and  among  them  I 
found  this  facetious  Book  Mammothreptos  :  And  among 
the  rest  of  the  Curiosities  I  found  also  this  Natatile 
Beet. 

AL  Why  do  they  call  it  natatile  ? 

Ber.  I  '11  relate  to  you  what  I  read  ;  as  for  the  Truth 
of  it,  let  the  Author  be  answerable  for  that.  Forasmuch, 
says  he,  as  it  grows  in  wet,  stinking  Places,  and  thrives 
no  where  so  well  as  in  Mud,  or  a  Dunghill,  saving  your 
Reverence,  Sir 

Al.  Therefore  it  stinks,  does  it? 

Ber.  Ay,  worse  than  a  Turd. 

Al.  Is  this  Herb  good  for  any  Thing  ? 

Ber.  Yes,  it  is  accounted  a  great  Delicacy. 

Al.  Perhaps  by  Swine,  or  Asses,  or  Cyprian  Cows.2 

Ber.  Nay,  by  Men  themselves,  and  very  fine-mouth'd 
ones  too.  There  is  a  People  call'd  the  Peligni,  who  make 
their  Dinners  of  an  extraordinary  Length  ;  and  the  part 
ing  Glass  they  call  a  Resumpta  in  their  Language,  as 
we  call  it  a  Dessert  or  Kickshaws. 

Al.  Fine  Desserts  indeed  ! 

Ber.  The  Law  of  the  Entertainment  is,  that  the 
Entertainer  shall  have  the  Liberty  of  having  what  he 
will  brought  to  the  Table  ;  and  it  is  not  allowed  that 
the  Guests  should  refuse  any  Thing,  but  must  take  all 
well. 


5  6  Colloqu  ies  of  Eras  m  us 

Al.  What  if  he  should  have  Henbane,  or  twice-boiled 
Coleworts  set  before  him  ? 

Ber.  Let  it  be  what  it  will,  they  must  eat  it,  and  not 
speak  a  Word  against  it.  But  when  they  come  Home, 
they  are  at  Liberty  to  vomit  it  up  again,  if  they  please. 
And  in  their  Entertainments,  one  Dish  is  commonly  this 
Water-Beet  or  Anticomarita,  for  it  matters  not  which 
Name  you  call  it  by,  the  Thing  is  the  same.  They  mix 
a  great  Deal  of  Oak  Bark,  and  a  good  Quantity  of 
Garlick  with  it.  And  this  is  the  Composition  of  the 
Tansey. 

Al.  Who  made  this  barbarous  Law  ? 

Ber.  Custom,  the  most  mighty  of  Tyrants. 

Al.  You  tell  me  a  Story  of  a  tragical  Conclusion, 
which  has  such  a  nauseous  Ending. 

Ber.  I  have  given  my  Solution  of  the  Question,  not 
imposing  it  upon  any  Body,  nor  to  prevent  any  Body, 
who  has  a  Mind  to  offer  theirs. 

Can.  I  have  found  out  that  the  Antients  had  a  Fish 
that  they  call'd  Anticomarita. 

Ber.  What  Author  is  that  in  ? 

Can.  I  can  produce  the  Book,  but  I  can't  tell  the 
Author's  Name  ;  it  is  written  in  French  Words,  but  in 
the  Hebrew  Character. 

Ber.  What's  the  Shape  of  this  Fish  call'd  Anti 
comarita  ? 

Can.  The  Belly  is  white,  but  all  over  every  where  else 
it  has  black  Scales. 

Ber.  I  fancy  you  have  a  Mind,  of  this  Fish  to  make  a 
Cynic  with  a  Cloak  ;  what  Taste  has  it  ? 

Can.  It  has  the  nastiest  Taste  in  the  World ;  and 
besides  that,  it  is  infectious  too.  It  breeds  in  old  Lakes, 
and  sometimes  in  Houses  of  Office.  It  is  a  good-for- 
nothing  muddy  Fish  ;  if  you  put  but  a  Bit  of  it  into  your 
Mouth,  it  causes  a  certain  tough  Phlegm,  that  you  can 
hardly  bring  up  by  taking  a  Vomit.  It  is  very  common 
in  the  Country  call'd  Celtithrace  ;  they  esteem  it  as  a 


The  Assembly  of  Grammarians  57 

Delicacy,  and  at  the  same  Time  account  it  a  more 
detestable  Crime  than  Murder,  to  taste  a  Bit  of  Flesh. 

Al.  A  very  wretched  Country  with  their  Antico- 
marita  ! 

Can.  This  is  what  I  have  to  say  ;  but  I  would  not  have 
any  Body  to  be  determined  by  my  Opinion. 

Di.  What  Occasion  have  we  to  fetch  the  Explanation 
of  this  Word  from  Mammothreptos's  or  Hebrew 
Writings,  when  the  very  Etymology  of  the  Word  shews 
plainly,  that  Anticomarita  signifies  Damsels  unhappily 
married,  that  is  to  say,  to  old  Husbands?  And  it  is  no 
new  Thing  for  Writers  to  write  co  instead  of  quo  ;  c,  g, 
and  k  are  cognate  Letters. 

Eu.  What  Diphilus  has  mention'd  carries  something 
of  Weight  with  it,  if  we  were  sure  the  word  was  a  Latin 
one,  I  take  it  to  be  a  Greek  Word,  and  a  compound  of 
these  three,  ami,  which  signifies  against ;  «*>w,  which 
signifies  a  Town  ;  and  oapifaiv,  which  signifies  to  tattle 
like  a  Woman  :  and  so  by  striking  out  o  by  the  Figure 
Synalcepha  it  is  Anticomarita,  one  who  by  clownish 
prating  makes  every  Body  deaf. 

Fa.  My  Eumenius  has  made  it  out  very  elaborately  ; 
but  in  my  Opinion  the  Word  is  composed  of  as  many 
Words  as  it  has  Syllables  ;  for  av  stands  for  avovs,  rt  for 
Ti'XXcui/,  KO>  for  KcoSm,  /ia  for  /xaXa,  and  pv  for  pvirapa  (for  it 
is  an  Error  to  write  it  with  an  i)  and  ra  for  raXas ;  and 
out  of  these  formed  this  Sentence,  'A  mad  wretched 
Person  pulling  the  Hairs  out  of  a  rotten  Hide.' 

Al.  Indeed  such  Food  as  a  Water-Beet  as  Bertulphus 
was  speaking  of  just  now  was  very  fit  for  such  a  Work 
man. 

Ber.  That  is  as  much  as  to  say  an  Anticomarita  for 
an  Anticomarita. 

Ga.  You  have  all  spoken  very  learnedly  to  the  Matter ; 
but  I  am  of  Opinion  that  a  disobedient  Wife  is  call'd 
Anticomarita  by  the  Figure  Syncope,  for  Antidicomarita, 
because  she  always  crosses  her  Husband. 


60  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

long  ere  now  been  at  a  Loss  to  find  either  Men,  Religion, 
Philosophy,  or  Letters. 

Ber.  In  Troth  he  ought  to  be  one  of  Moria's  Noble 
men4  of  the  first  Rank,  and  deserves  for  the  future  to  be 
call'd  Archimorita  (an  Arch-Fool)  with  his  Antico- 
marites» 


AFAMO2  TAMOS,  OR,  THE  UNEQUAL 
MARRIAGE1 


THE   ARGUMENT 

The  unequal  Marriage  exposes  to  view  the  Folly  of  People 
in  common,  who  in  their  Espousals  chiefly  regard  the 
Greatness  of  the  Fortune,  and  disregard  the  Diseases  of 
the  Husband,  tho'  they  are  worse  than  the  Leprosy  itself. 
The  Description  of  a  deform'd  Man.  That  the  Cruelty 
of  Parents  in  matching  their  Daughters,  is  worse  than 
that  of  Mezentius,  of  which  Virgil  writes  in  his  Tenth 
Book  of  sEneids.  He  describes  the  Vices  of  a  bad 
Husband  ;  that  this  is  not  marrying  a  Man,  but  a  dead 
Carcass.  In  getting  Dogs,  Calves,  and  Horses,  they 
take  Care  to  have  one  strong  Beast  copulate  with  another, 
good  ones  with  those  that  are  like  themselves  ;  nor  won't 
suffer  a  diseas'd  one  to  leap  a  sound  one.  That  the 
Commonwealth  sustains  a  great  Detriment  by  these 
foolish  and  unhappy  Marriages 

PETRONIUS  and  GABRIEL 

Pet.  Whence  is  our  Gabriel  come,  with  this  sour 
Look  ?  what,  is  he  come  out  of  Trophonius's  Cave  ?2 

Ga.  No,  I  have  been  at  a  Wedding. 

Pet.  I  never  saw  a  Look  in  my  Life  that  had  less  of 
the  Air  of  a  Wedding  in  it ;  for  those  that  have  been  at 
Weddings,  use  to  look  cheerfully  and  airily  for  a  whole 
Week  after,  and  old  Men  themselves  to  look  younger  by 
ten  Years.  What  Wedding  is  it  that  you  have  been  at  ? 
I  believe  at  the  Wedding  of  Death  and  the  Cobler. 

Ga.  Not  so,  but  of  a  young  Gentleman  with  a  Lady 
of  Sixteen,  who  has  all  the  Accomplishments  that  you 
can  wish  for,  whether  Beauty,  good  Humour,  Family,  or 
Fortune  ;  in  short,  a  Wife  fit  for  Jupiter  himself. 


62  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Pet.  Phoo  !  what,  so  young  a  Girl  to  such  an  old 
Fellow  as  he  ? 

Ga.  Kings  don't  grow  old. 

Pet.  But  what  makes  you  look  so  melancholy  then  ? 
It  may  be  you  envy  the  Happiness  of  the  Bridegroom, 
who  has  rival'd  you. 

Ga.  Pshaw,  there's  nothing  of  that  in  the  Matter. 

Pet.  Well  then,  has  any  Thing  happen'd  like  what  is 
related  of  the  Lapithte's  Feast  ? 

Ga.  No,  not  so  neither. 

Pet.  What  then,  had  you  not  Wine  enough  ? 

Ga.  Yes,  and  too  much  too. 

Pet.  Had  you  no  Pipers  ? 

Ga.  Yes,  and  Fiddlers  too,  and  Harpers,  and  Trum 
peters,  and  Bagpipers. 

Pet.  What  was  the  Matter  then  ?  Was  not  Hymen 
at  the  Wedding? 

Ga.  They  call'd  loudly  for  him  with  all  this  Musick, 
but  to  no  Purpose. 

Pet.  Were  not  the  Graces  there  neither  ? 

Ga.  Not  a  Soul  of  them,  nor  Bridemaid  Juno,  nor 
beautiful  Venus,  nor  Jupiter  Gamelius. 

Pet.  By  my  Troth,  you  tell  me  a  Story  of  a  dull  Wed 
ding  indeed,  an  ungodly  one,  or  rather  an  unmarried 
Marriage. 

Ga.  You  would  have  said  so  indeed,  if  you  had  seen  it. 

Pet.  Had  you  no  Dancing  at  it  ? 

Ga.  No,  but  we  had  wretched  Limping. 

Pet.  What,  had  you  no  lucky  Godship  at  all  to  exhila 
rate  the  Wedding  ? 

Ga.  No,  not  one  there  but  a  Goddess,  that  the  Greeks 
call  Psora.3 

Pet.  Why,  you  give  me  an  Account  of  a  scabby 
Wedding  indeed. 

Ga.  Nay,  a  cankered,  and  a  pockey  one. 
Pet.  But,  prithee,  Friend  Gabriel,  tell  me,  What  makes 
the  Remembrance  of  it  fetch  Tears  from  your  Eyes  ? 


The  Unequal  Marriage  63 

Ga.  Ah  !  dear  Petronius,  it  is  enough  to  fetch  Tears 
from  a  Flint-Stone. 

Pet.  I  believe  so,  if  a  Flint-Stone  had  been  present, 
and  seen  it.  But  prithee,  What  extraordinary  Mischief 
is  this  ?  Don't  hide  it  from  me,  nor  keep  my  Expecta 
tion  any  longer  in  Suspense. 

Ga.  Do  you  know  Lampridius  Eubulus  ? 

Pet.  Yes ;  there  is  not  a  better  nor  happier  Man  in 
the  City. 

Ga.  Well,  and  do  you  know  his  Daughter  Iphigenia 
too? 

Pet.  You  have  mention'd  the  very  Flower  of  the  Age. 

Ga.  She  is  so;  but,  do  you  know  who  she's  married 
to? 

Pet.  I  shall  know  when  you  have  told  me. 

Ga.  She  is  married  to  Pompilius  Blennus. 

Pet.  What,  to  that  Hector,  that  us'd  to  talk  Folks  to 
Death  in  cracking  of  his  bullying  Tricks? 

Ga.  To  the  very  Man. 

Pet.  He  has  been  for  a  long  Time  very  noted  in  this 
Town,  for  two  Things  chiefly,  i.e.  Lying  and  the  Mange,4 
which  has  no  proper  Name  to  it,  tho'  indeed  it  has  a 
great  many. 

Ga.  A  very  proud  Distemper,  that  won't  strike  Sail 
to  the  Leprosy,  the  Elephantine  Leprosy,  Tetters,5  the 
Gout,  or  Ringworm,  if  there  was  to  be  an  Engagement 
between  them. 

Pet.  So  the  Sons  of  Esculapius  tell  us. 

Ga.  What  Need  is  there,  Petronius,  for  me  to  describe 
to  you  a  Damsel  that  you  are  very  well  acquainted  with  ? 
altho'  her  Dress  was  a  great  Addition  to  her  native 
Beauty.  My  Petronius,  you  would  have  taken  her  for 
a  Goddess,  had  you  seen  her.  Every  Thing  in  her  and 
about  her  was  graceful.  In  the  mean  Time  out  comes 
our  blessed  Bridegroom  with  his  Snub-Nose,  dragging 
one  Leg  after  him,  but  not  so  cleverly  neither  as  the 
Switzers  do  ;  itchy  Hands,  a  stinking  Breath,  heavy 


64  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Eyes,  his  head  bound  up  with  a  Forehead- Piece,  and  a 
Running  at  his  Nose  and  Ears.  Other  People  wear  their 
Rings  on  their  Fingers,  but  he  wears  his  on  his  Thighs. 

Pet.  What  was  in  the  Mind  of  the  Lady's  Parents,  to 
join  such  a  Daughter  to  a  living  Mummy? 

Ga.  I  can't  tell,  except  it  was  with  them,  as  it  is  with 
many  more,  that  have  lost  their  Senses. 
Pet.  It  may  be  he  was  very  rich  ? 
Ga.  He  is  very  rich  indeed,  but  it  is  in  the  Debts  he 
owes. 

Pet.  What  greater  Punishment  could  they  have  in 
flicted  upon  the  Maid,  if  she  had  poison'd  her  Grand- 
Fathers  and  Grandmothers,  both  of  the  Father's  and 
Mother's  Side  ? 

Ga.  Nay,  if  she  had  scatter'd  her  Water  upon  the 
Grave  of  her  Parents,6  it  would  have  been  a  Punishment 
bad  enough  to  have  oblig'd  her  but  to  have  given  a  Kiss 
to  such  a  Monster. 
Pet.  I  am  of  your  Mind. 

Ga.  I  look  upon  it  a  greater  Piece  of  Cruelty,  than  if 
they  had  stripp'd  their  Daughter  naked,  and  expos'd 
her  to  Bears,  Lions,  or  Crocodiles  :  For  these  wild 
Beasts  would  either  have  spar'd  her  for  her  exquisite 
Beauty,  or  put  her  out  of  her  Pain  by  a  quick  Dispatch. 
Pet.  You  say  right :  I  think  this  is  what  would  have 
become  Mezentius  himself,  who,  as  Virgil  tells  us, 
'bound  dead  Bodies  to  living  ones,  Hands  to  Hands, 
and  Mouths  to  Mouths.'  But  I  don't  believe  Mezentius 
himself  would  have  been  so  inhuman  as  to  have  bound 
such  a  lovely  Maid  to  such  a  Carcass  as  this  :  Nor  is 
there  any  dead  Body  you  would  not  chuse  to  be  bound 
to,  rather  than  to  such  a  stinking  one  ;  for  his  Breath  is 
rank  Poison,  what  he  speaks  is  Pestilence,  and  what  he 
touches  mortifies. 

Ga.  Now,  Petronius,  imagine  with  yourself  what  a 
Deal  of  Pleasure  she  must  needs  take  in  these  Kisses, 
Embraces  and  nocturnal  Dalliances. 


The  Unequal  Marriage  65 

Pet.  I  have  sometimes  heard  Parsons  talk  of  unequal 
Matches  ;  that  may  certainly  with  the  greatest  Propriety 
be  call'd  an  unequal  Match  ;  which  is,  as  it  were,  setting 
a  Jewel  in  Lead.  But  all  this  While  I  stand  in  Admira 
tion  at  the  Virgin's  Courage  ;  for  such  young  Damsels 
are  frighted  out  of  their  Wits  at  the  Sight  of  a  Fairy  or 
a  Hobgoblin  ;  and  can  this  Damsel  dare  to  embrace 
such  a  Carcass  as  this  in  the  Night-Time  ? 

Ga.  The  Damsel  has  these  three  Things  to  plead  in 
her  Excuse  ;  The  Authority  of  her  Parents,  the  Persua 
sion  of  her  Friends,  and  the  Unexperiencedness  of  her 
Age.  But  I  am  amaz'd  at  the  Madness  of  her  Parents. 
Who  is  there  that  has  a  Daughter  never  so  homely, 
that  would  marry  her  to  a  Leper? 

Pet,  No  Body,  in  my  Opinion,  that  had  a  Grain  of 
Sense.  If  I  had  a  Daughter  that  had  but  one  Eye,  and 
but  one  Leg,  and  as  deform'd  as  Thersites  was,  that 
Homer  speaks  of,  and  I  could  not  give  her  a  Penny  for 
her  Portion,  I  would  not  marry  her  to  such  a  Son-in- 
Law  as  he. 

Ga.  This  Pox  is  more  infectious  and  destructive  than 
the  worst  of  Leprosies  :  It  invades  on  a  sudden,  goes  off, 
and  rallies  again,  and  frequently  kills  at  last ;  while  the 
Leprosy  will  sometimes  let  a  Man  live,  even  to  extreme 
old  Age. 

Pet.  Perhaps  the  Parents  were  ignorant  of  the  Bride 
groom's  Distemper. 

Ga.  No,  they  knew  it  very  well. 

Pet.  If  they  had  such  a  Hatred  to  their  Daughter, 
why  did  they  not  sew  her  up  in  a  Sack,  and  throw  her 
into  the  Thames?7 

Ga.  Why  truly,  if  they  had,  the  Madness  would  not 
have  been  so  great. 

Pet,  By  what  Accomplishments  did  the  Bridegroom 
recommend  himself  to  them  ?  Was  he  excellent  in  any 
Art? 

Ga,  Yes,  in  a  great  many;  he's  a  great  Gamester, 
VOL,  III.  E 


66  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

he'll  drink  down  any  Body,  a  vile  Whoremaster,  the 
greatest  Artist  in  the  World  at  bantering  and  lying,  a 
notable  Cheat,  pays  no  Body,  revels  prodigally  ;  and  in 
short,  whereas  there  are  but  seven  liberal  Sciences 
taught  in  the  Schools,8  he's  Master  of  more  than  ten 
liberal  ones. 

Pet.  Sure  he  must  have  something  very  extraordinary 
to  recommend  him  to  the  Parents  ? 

Get.  Nothing  at  all,  but  the  glorious  Title  of  a 
Knight. 

Pet.  A  fine  Sort  of  a  Knight,  that  can  scarce  sit  in  a 
Saddle  for  the  Pox !  But  it  may  be  he  had  a  great 
Estate. 

Ga.  He  had  once  an  indifferent  one  ;  but  by  his  living 
so  fast,  has  little  or  nothing  left,  but  one  little  Turret, 
from  whence  he  makes  Incursions  to  rob  Passengers ; 
and  that's  so  illy  provided  for  Entertainment,  that  you 
would  not  accept  of  it  for  a  Hog-Stye.  And  he 's  always 
bragging  of  his  Castles,  and  Fiefs,  and  other  great 
Things  ;  and  is  for  setting  up  his  Coat  of  Arms  every 
where. 

Pet.  What  Coat  of  Arms  does  his  Shield  bear  ? 

Ga.  Three  Golden  Elephants  in  a  Field,  Gules. 

Pet.  Indeed  an  Elephant  is  a  good  Bearing  for  one 
that  is  sick  of  the  Elephantiasis.  He  must,  without 
Doubt,  be  a  Man  of  Blood. 

Ga.  Rather  a  Man  of  Wine  ;  for  he  is  a  great 
Admirer  of  Red  Wine,  and  by  this  Means  he  is  a  Man 
of  Blood  for  you. 

Pet.  Well  then,  his  Elephant's  Trunk  will  be  service 
able  to  him. 

Ga.  It  will  so. 

Pet.  Then  this  Coat  of  Arms  is  a  Token  that  he  is  a 
great  Knave,  a  Fool,  and  a  Drunken  Sot ;  and  the 
Field  of  his  Coat  of  Armour  represents  Wine,  and  not 
Blood  ;  and  the  Golden  Elephant  denotes,  that  what 
Gold  he  had,  has  been  spent  in  Wine. 


67 

Ga.  Very  right. 

Pet.  Well,  what  Jointure  does  this  Bully  settle  upon 
his  Bride  ? 

Ga.  What  ?  Why,  a  very  great  one. 

Pet.  How  can  a  Bankrupt  settle  a  large  one  ? 

Ga.  Pray  don't  take  me  up  so  short ;  I  say  again,  a 
very  large  one,  a  thundering  Pox. 

Pet.  Hang  me,  if  I  would  not  sooner  marry  my 
Daughter  to  a  Horse,  than  to  such  a  Knight  as  he. 

Ga.  I  should  abundantly  rather  chuse  to  marry  my 
Daughter  to  a  Monk ;  for  this  is  not  marrying  to  a 
Man,  but  to  the  Carcase  of  a  Man.  Now,  tell  me,  had 
you  been  present  where  this  Spectacle  was  to  be  seen, 
could  you  refrain  from  Tears  ? 

Pet.  How  should  I,  when  I  can't  hear  it  without? 
Were  the  Parents  so  abandon'd  to  all  natural  Affection, 
as  to  throw  away  their  only  Child,  a  Virgin  of  such 
Beauty,  Accomplishments,  and  sweet  Conditions,  by 
selling  her  for  a  Slave  to  such  a  Monster,  for  a  lying 
Coat  of  Arms  ? 

Ga.  But  this  enormous  Crime,  than  which  you  can't 
find  one  more  inhuman,  cruel,  or  unlike  a  Parent,  is 
made  but  a  Jest  on  now-a-Days,  by  our  People  of 
Quality  :  altho'  it  is  necessary  that  those  that  are  born 
for  the  Administration  of  the  Affairs  of  the  Government, 
should  be  Persons  of  very  sound  and  strong  Constitu 
tions  :  For  the  Constitution  of  the  Body  has  a  great  In 
fluence  upon  the  Mind  ;  and  it  is  not  to  be  doubted,  but 
this  Disease  exhausts  all  the  Brains  a  Man  has  :  and  by 
this  Means  it  comes  to  pass,  that  our  Ministers  of  State 
have  neither  sound  Minds,  nor  sound  Bodies. 

Pet.  It  is  not  only  requisite  that  our  Ministers  of  State 
should  be  Men  of  sound  Judgment,  and  strong  Constitu 
tions  but  Men  of  Honour,  and  goodly  Personages.  Altho' 
the  principal  Qualifications  of  Princes  are  Wisdom  and 
Integrity,  yet  it  is  of  some  considerable  Moment  what 
the  Form  of  his  Person  is  that  governs  others  :  for  if  he 


68  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

be  cruel,  the  Deformity  of  his  Body  will  expose  him  the 
more  to  Envy.  If  he  be  a  Prince  of  Probity  and  Piety, 
his  Virtue  will  be  render'd  more  conspicuous  by  the 
Amiableness  of  his  Person. 

Ga.  That 's  very  true. 

Pet.  Don't  People  use  to  lament  the  Misfortune  of 
those  Women,  whose  Husbands,  soon  after  their 
Marriage,  fall  into  Leprosies  or  Apoplexies  ? 

Ga.  Yes,  and  that  with  very  good  Reason  too. 

Pet.  What  Madness  is  it  then,  voluntarily  to  deliver  a 
Daughter  over  into  the  Hands  of  a  Leper  ? 

Ga.  Nay,  it  is  worse  than  Madness.  If  a  Nobleman 
has  a  Mind  to  have  a  good  Pack  of  Hounds,  do  you 
think  he  would  bring  a  mangy  scoundrel  Cur  to  a  well- 
bred  Bitch  ? 

Pet.  No,  he  would  with  the  utmost  Diligence  look  for 
a  Dog,  that  upon  all  Accounts  was  of  a  good  Breed,  to 
line  her,  that  he  might  not  have  a  Litter  of  Mongrels. 

Ga.  And  if  a  Lord  had  a  Mind  to  have  a  good  Breed 
of  Horses,  would  he  admit  a  diseased  good-for-nothing 
Stallion  to  leap  a  most  excellent  Mare  ? 

Pet.  No,  he  would  not  suffer  a  diseased  Stallion  to 
enter  his  Stable  Door,  lest  he  should  infect  other  Horses. 

Ga.  And  yet,  at  the  same  Time,  they  don't  matter 
what  Sort  of  a  Son-in-Law  they  gave  their  Daughter  to, 
from  whom  those  Children  are  to  be  produc'd,  that  are 
not  only  to  inherit  their  Estates,  but  also  to  govern  the 
State. 

Pet.  Nay,  a  Country  Farmer  won't  suffer  any  Bull 
to  leap  a  young  Cow,  nor  every  Horse  his  Mare,  nor 
every  Boar  to  brim  his  Sow;9  tho'  a  Bullock  is  de- 
sign'd  for  the  Plough,  a  Horse  for  the  Cart,  and  a  Swine 
for  the  Kitchen. 

Ga.  See  now  how  perverse  the  Judgments  of  Man 
kind  are.  If  a  poor  Fellow  should  presume  to  kiss  a 
Nobleman's  Daughter,  they  would  think  the  Affront  a 
Foundation  enough  to  go  to  War  upon. 


The  Unequal  Marriage  69 

Pet.  And  very  hotly  too. 

Ga.  And  yet  these  Persons,  voluntarily,  knowingly, 
and  deliberately,  give  up  the  dearest  Thing  they  have  in 
the  World  to  such  an  abominable  Monster,  and  are 
privately  unnatural  to  their  own  Flesh  and  Blood,  and 
publickly  to  their  Country. 

Pet.  If  the  Bridegroom  does  but  halt  a  little,  altho' 
as  to  any  Thing  else  he  is  perfectly  sound,  how  is  he 
despis'd  for  a  Husband  !  And  is  the  Pox  the  only  Thing 
that  is  no  Inconvenience  in  a  married  Life? 

Ga.  If  any  Man  should  marry  his  Daughter  to  a 
Franciscan,  what  an  abominable  Thing  would  it  be 
accounted  !  what  an  Outcry  would  there  be,  that  he  had 
thrown  his  Daughter  away  !  But  yet,  when  he  has  pull'd 
off  that  Dress,  he  has  every  Way  well-made  sound 
Limbs ;  while  the  other  must  pass  her  Days  with  a 
rotten  Carcase,  that  is  but  half  alive.  If  any  one  is 
married  to  a  Priest,  she  is  banter'd  on  account  of 
his  Unction ;  but  one  that  is  married  to  one  that 
has  the  Pox,  has  one  whose  Unctions  are  worse  by 
Abundance. 

Pet.  Enemies  that  have  taken  a  Maid  captive,  won't 
be  guilty  of  such  Barbarity  as  this  ;  nor  will  Kidnappers 
themselves,  to  those  they  have  kidnapp'd  away  ;  and 
yet  Parents  will  be  guilty  of  it  against  their  only 
Daughter ;  and  there 's  no  Magistrate  ordain'd  to  pre 
vent  the  Mischief. 

Ga.  How  should  a  Physician  cure  a  Madman,  if  he 
has  a  Spice  of  the  same  Distemper  himself? 

Pet.  But  it  is  a  Wonder  to  me,  that  Princes,  whose 
Business  it  is  to  take  Care  of  the  Common-Wealth  only 
in  those  Things  which  relate  to  the  Body,  of  which 
nothing  is  of  greater  Moment  than  the  Health  of  it, 
should  find  out  no  Remedy  for  this  Evil.  This  egregious 
Pestilence  has  infected  great  Part  of  the  Earth  ;  and  in 
the  mean  Time  they  lie  snoring  on,  and  never  mind  it, 
as  if  it  were  a  Matter  not  worth  their  Notice. 


/o  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Ga.  Have  a  Care,  Petronius,  what  you  say  as  to 
Princes.  But  hark  you,  I  '11  tell  you  a  Word  in  your 
Ear. 

Pet.  O  wretched  !  I  wish  what  you  say  were  not  true. 

Ga.  How  many  Diseases  do  you  think  are  caused  by 
bad  Wine,  a  thousand  Ways  sophisticated  ? 

Pet.  Why,  if  we  may  believe  the  Physicians,  they  are 
innumerable. 

Ga.  Well,  and  do  the  Ministers  of  State  take  any 
Care  of  the  Matter  ? 

Pet.  They  take  Care  enough  as  to  the  collecting  the 
Excise,  but  no  further. 

Ga.  She  that  knowingly  marries  a  Husband  that  is 
not  sound,  perhaps  may  deserve  to  suffer  the  Punish 
ment  she  has  brought  upon  herself ;  altho',  if  it  were 
my  Fortune  to  sit  at  the  Helm,  I  would  banish  them 
both  from  civil  Society  :  But  if  any  one  married  one 
that  was  infected  with  this  Disease,  who  told  her  he  was 
a  sound  Man,  and  I  were  chosen  Pope,  I  would  make 
this  Marriage  void,  altho'  it  had  been  confirm'd  by  a 
thousand  Contracts. 

Pet.  Upon  what  Pretence,  I  wonder  ?  For  Marriage 
legally  contracted  can't  be  disannull'd  by  any  human 
Power. 

Ga.  What  ?  Do  you  think  that  legally  contracted, 
which  is  contracted  treacherously  ?  A  Contract  is  not 
valid,  if  a  Slave  palms  himself  upon  a  Maid  for  a  free 
Man,  and  she  marries  him  as  such.  She  that  marries 
such  a  Slave,  marries  an  errant  Slave  ;  and  her  Slavery 
is  so  much  the  more  unhappy,  in  that  the  Lady  Psora 
never  makes  any  Body  free  ;  that  there's  no  comfortable 
Hope  of  ever  being  deliver'd  from  this  Slavery. 

Pet.  Indeed  you  have  found  out  a  Colour  for  it. 

Ga.  And  besides,  there  can  be  no  such  Thing  as 
Marriage,  but  between  those  Persons  that  are  living  ; 
but  in  this  Case,  a  Woman  is  married  to  a  dead  Man. 

Pet.  You  have  found  out  another  Pretence :    But  I 


The  Unequal  Marriage  71 

suppose  you  would  permit  pocky  Folks  to  marry  pocky, 
that,  according  to  the  old  Proverb,  there  might  be  'like 
to  like.' 

Ga.  If  it  was  lawful  for  me  to  act  for  the  Good  of  the 
Publick,  I  would  suffer  them  to  be  married  together,  but 
I  would  burn  them  after  they  were  married. 

Pet.  Then  you  would  act  the  Part  of  a  Tyrant,  not  of 
a  Prince. 

Ga.  Do  you  account  a  Surgeon  to  be  a  Tyrant  who 
cuts  off  some  of  the  Fingers,  or  burns  some  Part  to 
preserve  the  whole  Body  ?  I  don't  look  upon  that  to  be 
Cruelty,  but  rather  Mercy.  And  I  wish  this  had  been 
done  when  this  Distemper  first  appear'd  in  the  World  ; 
then  the  publick  Welfare  of  Mankind  had  been  consulted 
by  the  Destruction  of  a  few.  And  we  find  Examples  of 
this  in  the  French  Histories. 

Pet.  But  it  would  be  a  gentler  Way  to  geld  them,  or 
part  them  asunder. 

Ga.  And  what  would  you  have  done  to  the  Women, 
pray  ? 

Pet.  I  'd  padlock  them  up. 

Ga.  That 's  one  Way,  indeed,  to  prevent  us  from 
having  more  of  the  Breed ;  but  I  will  confess  it  is  a 
gentler  Way,  if  you  will  but  own  the  other  to  be  safer. 
Even  those  that  are  castrated,  have  an  itching  Desire 
upon  them  ;  nor  is  the  Infection  convey'd  by  one  Way 
only,  but  by  a  Kiss,  by  Discourse,  by  a  Touch,  or  by 
drinking  with  an  infected  Party.  And  we  find  also,  that 
there  is  a  certain  malicious  Disposition  of  doing  Mis 
chief  peculiar  to  this  Distemper,  that  whosoever  has  it, 
takes  a  Delight  to  propagate  it  to  as  many  as  he  can, 
tho'  it  does  him  no  good.  Now  if  they  be  only  separated, 
they  may  flee  to  other  Places,  and  may  either  by  Night 
impose  upon  Persons,  or  on  them  that  do  not  know 
them.  But  there  can  be  no  Danger  from  the  Dead. 

Pet.  I  confess  it  is  the  safest  Way,  but  I  can't  tell 
whether  it  is  agreeable  to  Christian  Gentleness,  or  no. 


72  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Ga.  Prithee  tell  me  then,  from  whom  is  there  the 
most  Danger,  from  common  Thieves,  or  from  such 
Cattle  ? 

Pet.  I  confess  Money  is  of  much  less  Value  than 
Health. 

Ga.  And  yet  we  Christians  hang  them,  nor  is  it 
accounted  Cruelty,  but  Justice  ;  and  if  you  consider  the 
publick  Good,  it  is  our  Duty  so  to  do. 

Pet.  But  in  this  Case,  the  Person  is  punish'd  that  did 
the  Injury. 

Ga.  What,  then  these,  I  warrant  you,  are  Benefactors 
to  the  Publick  ?  But  let  us  suppose  that  some  get  this 
Distemper  without  any  Fault  of  their  own  ;  tho'  you 
will  find  that  very  few  have  it,  that  don't  get  it  by  their 
own  Wickedness  :  the  Lawyers  will  tell  you,  it  is  some 
times  lawful  to  put  the  Innocent  to  Death,  if  it  be  very 
much  for  the  Good  of  the  Publick  ;  as  the  Greeks,  after 
the  taking  of  Troy,  put  Astyanax,  the  Son  of  Hector,  to 
Death,  lest  he  should  set  a  new  War  on  Foot  :  Nor  do 
they  think  it  any  Wickedness,  to  put  a  Tyrant's  innocent 
Children  to  Death,  after  they  have  slain  the  Father. 
And  do  not  we  Christians  go  to  War,  tho'  at  the  same 
Time  the  greatest  Share  of  the  Calamities  falls  on  those 
Persons  that  least  deserve  them  ?  And  it  is  the  same 
Thing  in  our  Reprisals,  or  Letters  of  Mark  ; 10  he  who 
did  the  Wrong  is  safe,  and  the  Merchant  is  robb'd,  who 
never  so  much  as  heard  one  Word  of  it,  he  is  so  far  from 
being  chargeable  with  the  Fault.  Now  if  we  make  Use 
of  such  Remedies  as  these  in  Things  of  no  great 
Moment,  what,  think  you,  ought  to  be  done  in  a  Matter 
of  the  greatest  Consequence  ? 

Pet.  I  am  overcome  by  the  Truth  of  your  Arguments. 

Ga.  Then  take  this  along  with  you  too.  As  soon  as 
ever  the  Plague  begins  to  appear  in  Italy,  the  infected 
Houses  are  shut  up,  and  the  Nurses  that  look  after  the 
Sick,  are  forbidden  to  appear  abroad.  And  tho'  some 
call  this  Inhumanity,  it  is  the  greatest  Humanity  ;  for 


The  Unequal  Marriage  73 

by  this  prudent  Care,  the  Calamity  is  put  a  Stop  to,  by 
the  Burials  of  a  few  Persons.  But  how  great  Humanity 
is  it  to  take  Care  to  preserve  the  Lives  of  so  many 
thousands  ?  Some  think  it  a  very  inhospitable  Thing, 
for  the  Italians,  when  there  is  but  the  bare  Report  of  a 
Pestilence,  to  drive  Travellers  from  their  very  Gates  in 
an  Evening,  and  force  them  to  lie  all  Night  in  the  open 
Air.  But  for  my  Part,  I  account  it  an  Act  of  Piety  to 
take  Care  of  the  publick  Good  at  the  Inconvenience  of 
a  few.  Some  Persons  look  upon  themselves  very 
couragious  and  complaisant,  in  daring  to  venture  to 
visit  one  that  is  sick  of  the  Plague,  having  no  Manner 
of  Call  at  all  to  do  it ;  but  what  greater  Folly  can  there 
be,  than  by  this  Courage,  when  they  come  Home,  to 
bring  the  Distemper  to  their  Wives  and  Children,  and 
all  their  Family?  What  can  be  more  unkind,  than  by 
this  Complaisance  to  a  Friend,  to  bring  those  Persons 
that  are  the  dearest  to  you  in  the  World,  into  the 
Danger  of  their  Lives?  But  then  again,  how  less 
dangerous  is  the  Plague  itself  than  the  Pox?  the  Plague 
frequently  passes  by  those  that  are  nearest,  and  seldom 
affects  the  old  ;  and  as  to  those  that  it  does  affect,  it 
either  dispatches  them  quickly,  or  restores  them  to  their 
Health  much  sounder  than  they  were  before.  But  as 
for  the  Pox,  what  is  that  but  a  lingring  Death  ;  or,  to 
speak  more  properly,  Burial  ? 

Pet.  What  you  say  is  very  true  ;  and  at  least,  the  same 
Care  ought  to  be  taken  to  prevent  so  fatal  an  Evil,  as 
they  take  to  prevent  the  spreading  of  the  Leprosy  ;  or 
if  this  should  be  thought  too  much,  no  Body  should  let 
another  shave  him,  but  be  his  own  Barber. 

Ga.  But  what  will  you  say,  if  both  of  them  keep  their 
Mouths  shut  ? 

Pet.  They  would  take  the  Infection  in  at  their  Nostrils. 

Ga.  But  there  is  a  Remedy  for  that  too. 

Pet.  What  is  it  ? 

Ga.  They  may  do  as  the  Alchymists  do,  they  may 


Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

wear  a  Mask  with  Glasses  for  Eyes  to  see  thro',  and  a 
breathing  Place  for  their  Mouths  and  Nostrils,  thro'  a 
Horn  which  reaches  from  their  Jaw-Bones  down  to  their 
Back. 

Pet.  That  Contrivance  might  do  pretty  well,  if  there 
were  no  Danger  from  the  Touch  of  the  Finger,  the 
Linen,  the  Combs,  and  the  Scissars. 

Ga.  But  however,  I  think  'tis  the  best  Way  to  let  the 
Beard  grow,  tho'  it  be  even  down  to  the  Knees. 

Pet.  Why,  I  am  of  that  Mind  too.  And  then  let  there 
be  an  Act  of  Parliament,  that  the  same  Person  shan't  be 
a  Barber  and  a  Surgeon  too.11 

Ga.  But  that 's  the  Way  to  starve  the  Barbers. 

Pet.  Then  let  them  spend  less,  and  be  something 
better  paid  for  Shaving. 

Ga.  Let  it  be  so  with  all  my  Heart. 

Pet.  And  let  there  be  a  Law  made  too,  that  no  Body 
shall  drink  out  of  the  same  Cup  with  another. 

Ga.  They  will  scarce  be  confin'd  to  that  in  England. 

Pet.  And  that  two  shan't  lie  in  the  same  Bed,  unless 
they  be  Husband  and  Wife. 

Ga.  I  like  that  very  well. 

Pet.  And  then  as  to  Inns,  let  no  Stranger  sleep  in  the 
same  Sheets,  that  another  has  lain  in  before. 

Ga.  But  what  will  you  do  then  with  the  Germans,  who 
scarce  wash  them  twice  a  Year? 

Pet.  Let  them  employ  Washer- Women.  And  besides, 
let  them  leave  off  the  Custom  of  saluting  with  a  Kiss, 
altho'  it  be  of  an  old  standing. 

Ga.  But  then,  as  to  the  Churches  ? 

Pet.  Let  every  one  hold  his  Hand  before  his  Mouth. 

Ga.  But  then  as  to  common  Conversation  ? 

Pet.  Let  that  direction  of  Homer  be  observed,  not  to 
come  too  near  the  Person  he  talks  to,  and  let  he  that 
hears  him  keep  his  Lips  shut. 

Ga.  Twelve  Tables  would  scarce  contain  all  these 
Laws. 


The  Unequal  Marriage  7  5 

Pet.  But  in  the  mean  Time,  what  Advice  do  you  give 
for  the  poor  unfortunate  Girl  ? 

Ga.  What  can  I  give  her  but  this,  that  unless  she  likes 
being  miserable,  she  be  so  as  little  as  she  can  ?  to  clap 
her  Hands  before  her  Mouth,  whenever  her  Husband 
offers  to  kiss  her  ;  and  to  put  on  Armour  when  she  goes 
to  Bed  with  him. 

Pet.  Whither  do  you  steer  your  Course  when  you  go 
Home? 

Ga.  Directly  to  my  Closet. 

Pet.  What  are  you  going  to  do  there  ? 

Ga.  They  have  desired  me  to  write  an  Epithalamium  ; 
but  instead  of  it,  I  will  write  an  Epitaph. 


THE  IMPOSTURE 


THE   ARGUMENT 

This   Colloquy   contains  a  familiar    Discourse   between 

Livinus  and  Philip  :  where  Livinus  imposes  upon  Philip, 

by   speaking  in  Verse,    when  he  suppos'd  him 

to  speak  Prose 


Ph.  I  wish  you  Health,  Livinus. 

Liv.  I  will  be  well,  if  that  will  please  you  ;  but  do  you 
be  upon  your  Guard,  for  I  design  to  catch  you,  if  you 
don't  watch  me  very  narrowly. 

Ph.  An  open  Enemy  is  not  much  to  be  feared.  But 
come  on,  deceive  me  if  you  can. 

Liv.  I  have  deceiv'd  you  already,  and  you  have  not 
perceiv'd  it  ;  but  take  Care  of  the  second  Time. 

Ph.  I  believe  I  have  to  do  with  a  Master  of  Leger-de- 
main  ;  I  can't  find  you  have  impos'd  upon  me  at  all. 

Liv.  Well  then,  be  very  attentive  this  Time  ;  except 
you  have  a  Mind  to  be  deceiv'd,  as  you  have  been  twice 
already. 

Ph.  I  am  prepared  for  you  ;  begin. 

Liv.  What  you  bid  me  do,  is  done  already. 

Ph.  What  is  acted,  or  what  is  done  ;  I  perceive 
nothing  of  Deceit. 

Liv.  Well,  tho'  I  have  given  you  Warning  so  many 
Times  already,  however  mind  this  Time. 

Ph.  This  is  a  new  Sort  of  Conjuration  ;  you  tell  me 
you  have  impos'd  upon  me,  and  I  perceive  nothing  of 
Art  in  all  this,  altho'  I  watch  very  narrowly  your  Eyes, 
your  Hands,  and  your  Tongue.  But  come,  t'other 
Touch  ;  begin  again. 


The  Imposture  77 

Liv.  I  have  begun  again  and  again,  over  and  over  so 
many  Times,  and  you  can't  see  the  Trap  that 's  laid  for 
you. 

Ph.  Wherein  do  you  lay  a  Trap  for  me  ? 

Liv.  This  Tongue,  I  say,  of  mine  entraps  you,  and 
you  neither  perceive  it  with  your  Ears,  nor  see  it  with 
your  Eyes.  However,  now  let  your  Eyes  and  Ears  be 
both  attentive. 

Ph.  I  can't  be  more  attentive,  if  my  Life  lay  at  Stake  ; 
but  however,  try  to  trick  me  once  more. 

Liv.  Why,  I  have  trick'd  you  again  already,  and  you 
perceive  nothing  of  the  Artifice. 

Ph.  You  make  me  mad  :  Prithee  tell  me,  what  Kind 
of  Hocus-pocus  is  this  ? 

Liv.  Why  all  this  While  I  have  been  speaking  to  you 
in  Verse,  and  am  at  this  Time. 

Ph.  I  thought  of  nothing  less  than  of  that. 

Liv.  At  first  I  answer'd  you  in  two  Trimeter  Iambics  ; 
then  in  a  Trochaic  Tetrameter  Catalectic  ;  after  that  in 
nothing  but  Cretics  ;  after  that  in  a  Phaolascian  Hen- 
deca-syllable  ;  then  again  in  mere  Coriambics  ;  then  in 
plain  Anapasstes  ;  then  again  in  three  Sapphics  ;  by- 
and-by  in  a  Sotadic,1  and  last  of  all  in  a  Trochaic 
Tetrameter. 

Ph.  Good  God !  I  should  have  guess'd  a  hundred 
Things  before  I  should  have  guess'd  that.  If  I  live,  I  '11 
serve  you  the  like  Trick. 

Liv.  Do,  if  you  can. 

Ph.  I  have  pay'd  you  in  your  own  Coin  twice,  and 
you  did  not  perceive  the  Trick. 

Liv.  What,  in  this  short  Time  ? 

Ph.  I  threaten'd  you  in  an  Iambic  Tetrameter  Cata 
lectic  ;  after  that  I  added  five  Cretics. 

Liv.  Why  then  I  find  it  is  according  to  the  old  Pro 
verb,  '  Set  a  Thief  to  catch  a  Thief.' 

Ph.  Very  true ;  but  I  pray  this  for  both  of  us,  that 
neither  of  us  may  have  a  more  injurious  Cheat  put  upon  us. 


CYCLOPS,  OR  THE  GOSPEL- 
CARRIER1 

THE   ARGUMENT 

Cyclops,  or  Evangeliophorus,  inveighs  against  them  who 
have  the  Gospel  always  in  their  Mouths,  but  nothing 
agreeable  in  their  Lives.  It  contains  bitter  Invectives 
against  Hypocrites,  who  make  a  Profession  of  Religion 
with  their  Tongues,  but  deny  Religion  by  their  Conversa 
tion.  The  Gospel,  like  Wine,  does  no  Good,  except  it  be 
inwardly  taken 

CANNIUS,  POLYPHEMUS 

Can.  What  is  Polyphemus  hunting  after  here  ? 

Poly.  Do  you  ask  what  I  am  hunting  after,  when  I 
have  neither  Dogs  nor  Hunting-Pole? 

Can.  Perhaps  some  Lady  of  the  Wood 2  here  ? 

Poly.  You  have  guess'd  shrewdly,  lo  here  is  my 
Hunting-Net. 

Can.  What's  this  I  see?  Bacchus  in  a  Lion's  Skin? 
Polyphemus  with  a  Book  in  his  Hand,  yaX^  KpoKurov  ; 3 
'  a  Cat  in  a  lac'd  Petticoat  ? ' 

Poly.  Nay,  I  have  not  only  painted  my  Book  with 
Saffron,  but  also  with  Vermilion  and  Azure. 

Can.  I  did  not  speak  of  Crocus,  but  I  spoke  Greek, 
Crocoton.  It  seems  to  be  a  military  Book,  for  it  seems 
to  be  armed  with  Bosses  and  Plates,  and  Rings  of  Brass. 

Poly.  Look  into  it. 

Can.  I  see  what  it  is,  and  truly  it  is  very  fine ;  but 
not  so  fine  as  it  should  be. 

Poly.  What  does  it  want  ? 

Can.  You  ought  to  put  your  Coat  of  Arms  upon  it. 

Poly.  What  Arms  ? 


The  Gospel-Carrier  79 

Can.  The  Head  of  Silenus  looking  out  of  a  Hogshead. 
But  what  does  it  treat  of?  the  Art  of  Drinking? 

Poly.  See  what  it  is,  that  you  do  not  speak  Blasphemy 
before  you  are  aware. 

Can.  Why  then,  is  there  any  Thing  in  it  that  is  sacred? 

Poly.  What  can  be  more  sacred  than  the  Gospel  ? 

Can.  Good  God  !  What  does  Polyphemus  do  with  the 
Gospel  ? 

Poly.  Why  don't  you  ask,  what  a  Christian  has  to  do 
with  Christ  ? 

Can.  I  don't  know  but  that  a  Halbert  would  become 
you  better  ;  for  if  any  one  should  meet  you  at  Sea  in 
that  Figure,  he  would  take  you  for  a  Pirate,  or  in  the 
Wood  for  a  High -Way- Man. 

Poly.  But  the  Gospel  teaches  us,  not  to  judge  of  Men 
by  outward  Appearance  ;  For  as  a  tyrannous  Disposi 
tion  often  lies  hid  under  a  monkish  Habit,  yet  sometimes 
a  short  Head  of  Hair,  curl'd  Whiskers,  a  stern  Brow,  a 
fierce  Look,  and  a  Feather  in  the  Cap,  and  a  Buff-Coat 
and  Breeches  cut  and  slash'd,  cover  an  Evangelical 
Mind. 

Can.  And  why  may  it  not  ?  sometimes  a  Sheep  lies 
hid  under  a  Wolf's  Skin.  And  if  we  may  give  any 
Credit  to  Emblems,  an  Ass  lurks  under  the  Coat  of  a 
Lion. 

Poly.  Nay,  I  have  known  a  Man  carry  the  Sheep  in 
his  Face,  and  the  Fox  in  his  Heart.  And  I  wish  he  had 
as  candid  Friends,  as  he  has  black  Eyes  ;  and  that  he 
had  as  well  the  Value  of  Gold,  as  the  Colour  of  it. 
t  Can.  If  he  that  wears  a  woollen  Hat,  must  needs  wear 
a  Sheep's  Head,  how  do  you  go  loaded,  that  carry  a 
Sheep  and  an  Estrich  too  on  your  Head  ?  But  does  not 
he  act  more  absurdly,  that  carries  a  Bird  upon  his  Head, 
and  an  Ass  in  his  Breast  ? 

Poly.  You  bite  too  close. 

Can.  But  it  were  very  well,  if  that  Gospel  that  you 
have  so  finely  adorn'd,  did  reciprocally  adorn  you.  You 


8o  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

have  adorn'd  it  with  Colours,  I  wish  it  did  adorn  you 
with  good  Manners. 

Poly.  I  '11  make  that  my  Care. 

Can.  As  you  used  to  do. 

Poly.  But  omitting  all  Reflections,  do  you  really  blame 
those  that  carry  the  Gospel  about  them  ? 

Can.  No,  by  no  Means  (minime  Gentium}. 

Poly.  What  ?  will  you  say  that  I  am  the  least  Man  in 
the  World,  that  am  taller  than  you  by  an  Ass's  Head  ? 

Can.  I  don't  think  you  are  so  much  taller,  tho'  the  Ass 
should  prick  up  his  Ears. 

Poly.  By  an  Ox's  Head,  I  dare  say. 

Can.  I  like  the  Comparison ;  but  I  said  Minime  the 
Adverb,  not  Minime  the  Vocative  Case. 

Poly.  Pray  what 's  the  Difference  between  an  Egg  and 
an  Egg  ? 

Can.  And  what 's  the  Difference,  say  you,  between  the 
middle  Finger  and  the  little  Finger? 

Poly.  Why,  the  middle  Finger  is  the  longest. 

Can.  Wittily  said:  What's  the  Difference  between 
the  Ears  of  an  Ass,  and  those  of  a  Wolf? 

Poly.  The  Ears  of  a  Wolf  are  shorter. 

Can.  You  have  hit  it. 

Poly.  But  I  used  to  measure  long  and  short  Things 
by  the  Span,  and  by  the  Ell,  and  not  by  the  Ears. 

Can.  Come  on.  He  that  carried  Christ,  was  call'd 
Christopher ;  and  instead  of  Polyphemus,  you,  who 
carry  the  Gospel,  shall  be  call'd  the  Gospel-Bearer. 

Poly.  Don't  you  think  it  a  holy  Thing  to  carry  the 
Gospel? 

Can.  Not  at  all,  unless  you  will  allow  me,  that  Asses 
are  the  Greatest  Saints. 

Poly.  Why  so  ? 

Can.  Because  one  Ass  will  carry  at  least  three  thou 
sand  such  Books ;  and  I  am  persuaded  you  would 
be  able  to  carry  as  many  yourself,  if  you  were  well 
hamper'd. 


The  Gospd-Carrier  81 

Poly.  I  think  there  is  no  Absurdity  in  attributing 
Holiness  to  an  Ass,  because  he  carry'd  Christ. 

Can.  I  shan't  envy  you  that  Holiness  ;  and  if  you  have 
a  Mind  to  it,  I  will  give  you  some  Reliques  of  that  very 
Ass  that  Christ  rode  upon,  to  kiss. 

Poly.  You  will  give  me  a  very  acceptable  Present ;  for 
that  Ass  was  consecrated  by  being  touch'd  by  the  Body 
of  Christ. 

Can.  And  those  Persons  touch'd  Christ  too,  that 
smote  our  Saviour  on  the  Face. 

Poly.  But  come,  tell  me  your  Mind  seriously  ;  is  it 
not  a  pious  Thing  to  carry  the  Book  of  the  Gospel  about 
one  ? 

Can.  It  is  a  pious  Thing,  if  it  be  done  sincerely,  and 
without  Hypocrisy. 

Poly.  Talk  of  Hypocrisy  to  Monks  ;  what  has  a  Sol 
dier  to  do  with  Hypocrisy  ? 

Can.  But  first  tell  me  what  Hypocrisy  is. 

Poly.  When  a  Man  seems  to  be  one  Thing  and  is 
really  another. 

Can.  But  what  does  the  carrying  the  Gospel  about 
you  signify  ?  Does  it  not  signify  a  holy  Life  ? 

Poly.  I  suppose  it  does. 

Can.  Well  then,  where  a  Man's  Life  is  not  suitable  to 
the  Book,  is  not  that  Hypocrisy? 

Poly.  It  seems  so  to  be.  But  what  is  it  truly  to  carry 
the  Gospel. 

Can.  Some  carry  the  Gospel  in  their  Hands,  as  the 
Franciscans  do  the  Rules  of  St.  Francis  ;  and  at  that 
Rate  the  Paris  Porters,  Asses,  and  Geldings  may  carry 
it  as  well  as  a  Christian.  Some  carry  it  about  in  their 
Mouths,  and  talk  of  nothing  but  Christ  and  the  Gospel  : 
This  is  Pharisaical.  Others  carry  it  about  in  their 
Hearts.  He  is  the  true  Gospel-Bearer,  that  carries  it  in 
his  Hands,  in  his  Mouth,  and  in  his  Heart. 

Poly.  But  where  are  these  ? 

Can.  The  Deacons  in  the  Churches,  who  both  carry 
VOL.  III.  F 


82  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

the  Gospel,  read  it  to  the  People,  and  have  it  in  their 
Hearts. 

Poly.  But  for  all  that,  they  are  not  all  holy,  who  carry 
the  Gospel  in  their  Hearts. 

Can.  Don't  play  the  Sophister  with  me.  A  Man  does 
not  carry  it  in  his  Heart,  that  does  not  love  it  with  all 
his  Soul  ;  and  nobody  loves  it  as  he  ought,  that  does  not 
conform  to  it  in  his  Life. 

Poly.  These  Subtleties  I  don't  understand. 

Can.  I  '11  be  plainer  then.  If  you  were  to  carry  a 
Flagon  of  Wine  upon  your  Shoulders,  what  is  it  but  a 
Burden  ? 

Poly.  Nothing. 

Can.  If  you  hold  it  in  your  Mouth  and  spurt  it  out  ? 

Poly.  I  should  be  never  the  better  for  it ;  tho'  I  don't 
often  use  to  do  so. 

Can.  But  suppose  you  take  a  hearty  Draught,  as  your 
Way  is  ? 

Poly.  There  is  nothing  more  Divine. 

Can.  It  warms  the  whole  Body,  brings  the  Blood  into 
the  Cheeks,  and  makes  a  Man  look  with  a  merry 
Countenance. 

Poly.  Most  certainly. 

Can.  So  it  is  with  the  Gospel  ;  being  receiv'd  into  the 
Veins  of  the  Soul,  it  renews  the  whole  Habit  of  the 
Man. 

Poly.  It  may  be  you  think  then,  that  I  don't  lead  my 
Life  according  to  my  Book  ? 

Can.  No  Body  can  tell  that  better  than  yourself. 

Poly.  If  it,  indeed,  were  to  be  resolved  after  the  mili 
tary  Manner. 

Can.  Suppose  a  Man  should  give  you  the  Lye  to  your 
Face,  or  call  you  Blockhead,  what  would  you  do? 

Poly.  What  would  I  do  ?  I  'd  give  him  a  Box  on  the 
Ear  :  I  'd  make  him  feel  the  Weight  of  my  Fingers. 

Can.  What  if  he  should  give  you  a  Box  o'  th'  Ear  ? 

Poly.  Why  then  I  'd  cut  his  Throat  for  it. 


The  Gospel-Carrier  83 

Can.  But  your  Book  teaches  you  another  Lesson,  and 
bids  you  return  good  (Words)  for  evil,  and  if  any  one 
strikes  you  on  the  right  Cheek,  to  turn  to  him  the  left 
also. 

Poly.  I  have  read  so,  but  I  had  forgot  it. 

Can.  You  pray  often,  I  suppose  ? 

Poly.  That's  Pharisaical. 

Can.  Long  Prayers  are  indeed  Pharisaical,  if  they  be 
accompanied  with  Ostentation.  But  your  Book  teaches, 
that  you  should  pray  always,  but  with  your  Mind. 

Poly.  Well,  but  for  all  that  I  do  pray  sometimes. 

Can.  When? 

Poly.  Sometimes,  when  I  think  on  't :  It  may  be  once 
or  twice  a  Week. 

Can.  And  what  is  your  Prayer  ? 

Poly.  Why,  the  Lord's  Prayer. 

Can.  And  how  often  do  you  say  it  over  ? 

Poly.  But  once  :  For  the  Gospel  forbids  vain  Repeti 
tions. 

Can.  Can  you  go  thro'  the  Lord's  Prayer  without 
thinking  of  any  Thing  else  ? 

Poly.  I  never  try'd  that.  Is  it  not  enough  that  I  pro 
nounce  ? 

Can.  I  can't  tell  that  God  takes  Notice  of  any  Thing 
in  Prayer  but  the  Voice  of  the  Heart.  Do  you  fast 
often  ? 

Poly.  No,  never. 

Can.  But  your  Book  recommends  Prayer  and  Fasting 
both. 

Poly.  I  should  approve  of  it  too,  but  my  Stomach  will 
not  bear  it. 

Can.  But  St.  Paul  says,  '  that  he  is  no  Servant  of 
Christ  that  serves  his  Belly.'  Do  you  eat  Flesh  every 
Day? 

Poly.  Yes,  when  I  can  get  it. 

Can.  And  you  are  of  a  robust  Constitution,  that  would 
live  upon  Hay  (like  a  Horse)  or  the  Barks  of  Trees. 


84  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Poly.  But  Christ  says,  '  that  those  Things  that  go  into 
a  Man  do  not  defile  him.' 

Can.  Nor  do  they,  if  they  be  taken  moderately,  and 
without  giving  Scandal.  But  St.  Paul,  who  was  a  Dis 
ciple  of  Christ,  would  rather  starve  with  Hunger,  than 
offend  a  weak  Brother  by  his  eating  ;  and  he  exhorts  us 
to  follow  his  Example,  and  that  we  become  all  Things 
to  all  Men. 

Poly.  But  Paul  is  Paul,  and  Polyphemus  is  Poly 
phemus. 

Can.  But  it  is  yEgon's  Office  to  feed  she-Goats. 

Poly.  But  I  had  rather  eat  myself. 

Can.  That's  a  pleasant  Wish  ;  you'll  sooner  be  a  he- 
Goat  than  a  she  one. 

Poly.  But  I  used  esse  for  edere. 

Can.  Neatly  spoken.  Do  you  give  liberally  to  the 
Poor? 

Poly.  I  have  nothing  to  give. 

Can.  But  you  would  have  something  to  give,  if  you 
lived  soberly,  and  took  Pains. 

Poly.  But  it  is  a  pleasant  Thing  to  live  at  Ease. 

Can.  Do  you  keep  the  Commandments  ? 

Poly.  That 's  a  hard  Task  indeed. 

Can.  Do  you  repent  of  your  Sins  ? 

Poly.  Christ  has  made  Satisfaction  for  us  already. 

Can.  How  is  it  then  that  you  make  it  out,  that  you 
love  the  Gospel  ? 

Poly.  I  '11  tell  you  ;  there  was  a  certain  Franciscan 
with  us,  who  was  perpetually  thundering  out  of  the 
Pulpit  against  Erasmus's  New  Testament  ;  I  caught  the 
Fellow  once  by  himself,  and  took  him  hold  by  the  Hair 
with  my  left  Hand,  and  nubbled  him  so  well-favouredly 
with  my  right,  that  you  could  see  no  Eyes  he  had  for  the 
Swellings.4  What  do  you  say  now?  Was  not  this  done 
like  a  Man  that  loves  the  Gospel  ?  And  after  all  this,  I 
gave  him  Absolution  with  this  very  Book,  knocking  him 
over  his  Coxcomb  three  Times,  made  three  Bunches 


The  Gospel-Carrier  85 

upon  his  Crown,  in  the  Name  of  the  Father,  Son,  and 
Holy  Spirit,  and  so  absolv'd  him  in  Form. 

Can.  This  was  evangelically  done,  without  Question  : 
This  is  indeed  a  defending  one  Gospel  with  another. 

Poly.  I  chanc'd  to  light  upon  another,  a  Brother  of 
his,  of  the  same  Order,  who  was  still  railing  against 
Erasmus  without  either  End  or  Measure.  My  Gospel- 
Zeal  mov'd  me  once  again,  and  I  threatned  him  so 
severely,  that  I  brought  him  to  beg  Pardon  on  his 
Knees,  and  confess,  that  what  he  said  was  by  the  Instiga 
tion  of  the  Devil.  I  stood  over  him  with  my  Partizan  in 
my  Hand,  looking  upon  him  like  the  picture  of  Mars  in 
a  Battle,  ready  to  have  cut  off  his  Head  if  he  had  not 
done  it  readily  ;  and  this  was  done  in  the  Presence  of  a 
great  many  Witnesses. 

Can.  I  wonder  the  Man  was  not  frighted  out  of  his 
Wits.  But  to  proceed  ;  do  you  live  chastly  ? 

Poly.  It  may  be  I  shall  when  I  come  to  be  old.  But 
shall  I  tell  you  the  Truth,  Cannius  ? 

Can.  I  am  no  Priest,  and  if  you  have  a  Mind  to  con 
fess  yourself,  you  must  seek  somebody  else. 

Poly.  I  use  to  confess  to  God,  but  for  once  I  '11  do  it 
to  you  :  I  am  as  yet  no  perfect,  but  a  very  ordinary, 
Christian.  We  have  four  Gospels,  and  we  military 
Gospellers  propound  to  ourselves  chiefly  these  four 
Things  :  ist,  to  take  Care  of  our  Bellies.  2ndly,  That 
nothing  be  wanting  below.  3rdly,  To  have  wherewith 
to  live  on.  And  lastly,  To  do  what  we  list.  And  when 
we  have  gain'd  these  four  Points,  we  drink  and  sing  as 
if  the  Town  was  our  own,  '  Let  the  Gospel  live,  and 
Christ  reign.' 

Can.  This  is  the  Life  of  an  Epicure,  not  of  a  Christian. 

Poly.  I  can't  deny  that.  But  you  know  Christ  is 
omnipotent,  and  can  make  us  other  Men  in  an  Instant, 
if  he  pleases. 

Can.  Yea,  and  he  may  make  you  Swine  too,  and  that 
seems  to  be  an  easier  Change  than  into  good  Men. 


86  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Poly.  I  wish  there  were  no  worse  Things  in  the 
World,  than  Swine,  Oxen,  Asses,  and  Camels.  You  may 
find  a  great  many  People  that  are  fiercer  than  Lions, 
more  ravenous  than  Wolves,  more  lustful  than  Sparrows  ; 
who  will  bite  worse  than  Dogs,  and  sting  worse  than 
Vipers. 

Can.  But  it  is  now  high  Time  for  you  to  turn  from  a 
a  Brute  to  a  Man. 

Poly.  You  say  well,  for  I  find  in  the  Prophecies  of 
these  Times,  that  the  World  is  near  at  an  End. 

Can.  There  is  so  much  the  more  Reason  for  you  to 
make  Haste  to  repent. 

Poly.  I  hope  Christ  will  give  me  his  helping  Hand. 

Can.  But  do  you  see  that  you  render  yourself  fit 
Matter  to  work  upon.  But  from  whence  do  they  gather, 
that  the  World  is  so  near  an  End  ? 

Poly.  Because,  they  say,  People  are  now  doing  just 
as  they  did  before  the  Flood ;  they  are  eating  and 
drinking,  marrying  and  giving  in  Marriage  ;  they  whore, 
they  buy,  they  sell,  they  pawn  and  lend  upon  Usury, 
and  build ;  Kings  make  War,  and  Priests  study  to 
encrease  their  Revenues  ;  School-Men  make  Syllogisms, 
Monks  run  up  and  down  the  World;  the  Rabble  makes 
Mobs,  and  Erasmus  writes  Colloquies  ;  and,  in  fine,  no 
Miseries  are  wanting,  Hunger,  Thirst,  Robberies, 
Hostilities,  Plagues,  Seditions  ;  and  there  is  a  great 
Scarcity  of  all  that  is  good  :  and  do  not  all  these 
Things  argue  that  the  World  is  near  an  End  ? 

Can.  But  of  all  this  Mass  of  Mischiefs,  which  of  them 
is  it  that  troubles  you  most  ? 

Poly.  Guess. 

Can.  That  Spiders  perhaps  make  Cobwebs  in  your 
empty  Pockets. 

Poly.  As  I  hope  to  live,  you  have  hit  it.  I  am  just 
now  come  from  drinking  hard  ;  but  some  other  Time, 
when  I  am  sober,  if  you  will,  we  '11  have  another  Touch 
at  the  Gospel. 


The  Gospel- Carrier  87 

Can.  And  when  shall  I  see  you  sober  ? 

Poly.  When  I  am  so. 

Can.  And  when  will  you  be  so  ? 

Poly.  When  you  see  me  so.  And,  my  dear  Cannikin, 
in  the  mean  Time,  all  Happiness  attend  you. 

Can.  And,  by  Way  of  Requital,  I  wish  you  may  be 
what  you  are  call'd.5 

Poly.  And,  that  you  may  not  outdo  me  in  Courtesy, 
I  wish  the  Can,  from  whence  you  have  borrowed  your 
Name,  may  never  fail  Cannius. 


THE  IMPERTINENTS,  OR  CROSS- 
PURPOSES. 

THE   ARGUMENT 

This  Colloquy,  call'd  'ATrpoo-8i6w<Ta,i  or  Absurda,   con 
tains  a  confused  Discourse,  where  nothing  is  answered  to 
the  Purpose,  but  is  mere  Nonsense :    For  one  inquires 
about  a  Wedding,  and  the  other  answers  about 
a  dangerous  Voyage 

ANN! US  and  LUCIUS 

An.  I  was  told  that  you  were  at  Pancratius's  and 
Albina's  Wedding. 

Lu.  I  never  had  a  more  unhappy  Voyage  in  my  Life, 
than  at  this  Time. 

An.  What  say  you  ?  Was  there  such  a  Power  of 
Company  then  ? 

Lu.  I  never  would  have  taken  less  for  my  Life,  than 
at  that  Time. 

An.  See  what  it  is  to  be  rich ;  now  I  had  but  a  few 
at  my  Wedding,  and  they  were  poor  Folks  too. 

Lu.  We  were  scarce  put  to  Sea,  but  a  great  Storm 
arose. 

An.  Why,  you  're  talking  of  an  Assembly  of  the 
Deities  ;  were  there  so  many  Noblemen  and  Ladies 
there  ? 

Lu.  Boreas  tore  the  Sail  in  Pieces,  and  blew  it  quite 
away. 

An.  I  know  the  Bride,  she's  a  perfect  Beauty. 


Cross  Purposes  89 

Lu.  Presently  a  Wave  comes  and  tears  off  the 
Rudder. 

An.  It  is  everybody's  Opinion.  And  her  Bridegroom 
does  not  come  much  short  of  her  in  Beauty,  according 
to  common  Report. 

Lu.  What  do  you  think  we  thought  of  the  Matter  ? 

An.  It  is  very  rare  now-a-Days  for  any  to  be  Maids 
when  they  are  married. 

Lu.  We  were  obliged  to  fall  back  again. 

An.  You  talk  of  an  incredible  Portion. 

Lu.  Presently  we  had  another  Misfortune  befel  us. 

An.  Why  did  they  venture  such  a  tender  Girl  to  such 
a  boisterous  Fellow  ? 

Lu.  We  espied  a  Pirate  Ship. 

An.  In  Truth,  it  is  so  in  many  Cases  ;  Naughtiness 
makes  Amends  for  Want  of  Age. 

Lu.  There  we  had  a  double  Engagement,  one  with 
the  Sea,  and  another  with  the  Pirates. 

An.  What,  so  many  Services  ?  and  in  the  mean  Time 
no  Body  gives  a  Farthing  to  the  Poor. 

Lu.  What  !  should  we  have  struck  Sail  ?  Nay, 
Despair  made  us  fight  desperately. 

An.  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  but  a  barren  Match,  if  what 
you  say  be  true. 

Lu.  Nay,  we  threw  our  grappling  Irons. 

An.  This  is  a  Novelty  indeed  !  What,  with  Child 
before  Marriage  ? 

Lu.  Had  you  but  seen  the  Conflict,  you  would  have 
sworn  that  I  fought  like  an  Hero. 

An.  Well,  I  find  the  Marriage  was  not  only  made, 
but  consummated  too. 

Lu.  We  jump'd  aboard  the  Pirate  Ship. 

An.  But  I  admire  that  they  invited  you  who  are  a 
Stranger,  and  did  not  invite  me  who  am  related  to  the 
Bride's  Father  in  the  third  Degree  of  Consanguinity. 

Lu.  We  threw  them  all  over-Board  into  the  Sea. 

An.  You  say  right :  The  afflicted  have  no  Friends. 


90  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Lu.  We  shared  all  the  Booty  among  us. 

An.  I  '11  rally  the  Bride  for  it  the  first  Opportunity 
I  have. 

Lu.  It  presently  grew  very  calm ;  you  would  have 
said  it  had  been  the  Halcyon  Days.2 

An.  If  she  has  Money,  I  have  a  stomachful  Spirit :  I 
don't  care  a  Fig  for  her  Kindness. 

Lu.  And  so  we  brought  two  Ships  Home  instead  of 
one. 

An.  Let  him  be  angry  that  will. 

Lu.  Where  am  I  going,  do  you  ask?  Why  to 
Church,  to  make  an  Offering  of  Part  of  the  Sail  to  St. 
Nicholas.3 

An.  I  an't  at  Leisure  to  Day,  I  expect  some  Friends 
to  dine  with  me  ;  at  another  Time  I  won't  refuse. 


THE  FALSE  KNIGHT,  Or  HIIIET2 

ANinnos 


THE   ARGUMENT 

'l7T7rei>s  (LviinroS;  or  counterfeit  Nobility,  exposes  the  Vices 
of  those  Persons  who  think  they  may  do  any  Thing  under 
the  Mask  of  Nobility,  altho'  they  are  not  remarkable  for 
either  noble  Birth  or  Virtue :  But  Knaves,  that  have  a 
good  Stock  of  Impudence,  arrogate  to  themselves  that 
Honour  that  they  don't  deserve,  unless  Honour  is  due  to 
the  most  flagitious  Crimes 

HARPALUS  and  NESTOR 

Har.  Can  you  help  me  out  now  with  your  Advice  ? 
If  you  can,  you  shall  find  I  am  neither  forgetful  nor 
ungrateful. 

Nes.  I  '11  bring  it  about  that  you  shall  be  what  you 
would  be. 

Har.  But  it  is  not  in  our  own  Power  to  be  born 
Noble-Men. 

Nes.  If  you  are  not  a  Noble-Man,  strive  by  virtuous 
Actions,  that  your  Nobility  may  derive  its  Original 
from  yourself. 

Har.  That 's  a  long  Way  about. 

Nes.  Then  the  King  will  sell  it  you  for  a  small  Matter. 

Har.  But  Nobility  that  is  purchased  with  Money,  is 
ridiculed  by  the  Vulgar. 

Nes.  If  Nobility  that  is  bought  be  so  ridiculous  a 
Thing,  why  are  you  so  fond  of  being  a  Knight? 

Har.  There  are  Reasons  for  that,  and  no  slight  ones 
neither,  which  I  shall  freely  tell  you,  if  you  '11  but  put 


92  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

me  in  the  Way  of  making  myself  honourable  in  the 
Opinion  of  the  Vulgar. 

Nes.  What  signifies  the  Name  without  the  Thing  ? 

Har.  But  as  I  han't  the  Substance,  I  would  have  the 
Reputation  of  it.  But,  my  Nestor,  give  me  your  Advice, 
and  when  you  hear  my  Reasons  you  will  say  it  is  worth 
my  While. 

Nes.  Well,  since  you  will  have  it,  I  '11  tell  you  :  In 
the  first  Place,  remove  yourself  to  a  Place  where  you 
are  not  known. 

Har.  Right. 

Nes.  Then  work  yourself  into  the  Acquaintance  of 
young  Men  of  Quality. 

Har.  I  take  you  in. 

Nes.  First  of  all,  by  this  Means,  People  will  be  apt  to 
judge  of  you  by  the  Company  you  keep. 

Har.  They  will  so. 

Nes.  But  then  you  must  be  sure  to  have  nothing  about 
you  that  is  vulgar. 

Har.  As  to  what,  do  you  mean  ? 

Nes.  I  speak  of  your  Cloaths,  that  they  be  not  made 
of  Wool,  but  Silk  ;  but  if  you  cannot  go  to  the  Price  of 
Silk,  rather  Fustian  or  Canvas,  than  Cloth. 

Har.  You're  in  the  right. 

Nes.  And  take  Care  not  to  wear  any  Thing  that's 
whole  ;  but  cut  your  Hat  and  your  Doublet,  your  Hose, 
and  your  Shoes,  and  your  Nails  too,  if  you  can.  Never 
talk  of  any  Thing  that  is  mean.  If  any  Traveller  comes 
out  of  Spain,  enquire  of  him  how  the  King  and  the  Pope 
agree,  how  your  Cousin  the  Count  of  Nassau  does,  and 
all  the  rest  of  the  Officers  your  old  jolly  Acquaintance. 

Har.  It  shall  be  done. 

Nes.  Wear  a  Seal-Ring  upon  your  Finger. 

Har.  That 's  if  my  Pocket  will  speak. 

Nes.  Then  you  may  have  a  brass  Ring  gilt  with  a 
Doublet  for  a  small  Matter  :  But  then  you  must  have 
your  Coat-of-Arms  upon  it  too. 


The  False  Knight  93 

Har.  What  Bearing  would  you  have  me  chuse  ? 

Nes.  Why,  if  you  will,  two  Milk-Pails  and  a  Pot  of 
Ale. 

Har.  You  joke  upon  me  ;  but  do  tell  me  seriously. 

Nes.  Was  you  ever  in  a  Battle  ? 

Har.  I  never  saw  a  Battle. 

Nes.  But  I  believe  you  have  beheaded  the  Farmers 
Geese  and  Capons. 

Har.  Ay,  many  a  Time,  and  manfully  too. 

Nes.  Why  then,  let  your  Coat  of  Arms  be,  three 
Goose  Heads  Or,  and  a  Whinyard  Argent. 

Har.  What  must  the  Field  be  ? 

Nes.  What  should  it  be  but  Gules  ?  A  Monument  of 
Blood  shed  plentifully. 

Har.  Ay,  why  not?  for  the  Blood  of  a  Goose  is  as 
red  as  the  Blood  of  a  Man.  But  pray  go  on. 

Nes.  Have  this  Coat-of-Arms  hung  over  the  Gate  of 
every  Inn  you  lodge  at. 

Har.  What  shall  be  added  to  the  Helmet  ? 

Nes.  That's  well  thought  on,  make  that  with  a  Mouth 
slit  from  Ear  to  Ear. 

Har.  What 's  your  Reason  for  that  ? 

Nes.  First,  to  give  you  Air  ;  and  then,  that  it  may  be 
suitable  to  your  Dress.  But  what  must  the  Crest 
be? 

Har.  I  want  to  know  that. 

Nes.  A  Dog's  Head  with  bangle  Ears.1 

Har.  That 's  common. 

Nes.  Then  add  two  Horns  to  it,  this  is  uncommon. 

Har.  I  like  that  very  well.  But  what  Beasts  shall  I 
have  for  Supporters  ? 

Nes.  Why,  as  for  Bucks,  and  Dogs,  and  Dragons,  and 
Griffins,  they  have  been  all  taken  up  already  by  Princes; 
you  shall  have  two  Harpies. 

Har.  Nothing  can  be  better. 

Nes.  But  then  we  want  the  Title.  In  the  first  Place, 
you  must  be  sure  to  take  Care  not  to  suffer  yourself  to 


94  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

be  call'd  Harpalus  Comensis,  but  Harpalus  a  Como  ; 
the  one  is  noble,  the  other  pedantick. 

Har.  It  is  so. 

Nes.  Is  there  any  Thing  you  can  call  yourself  Lord 
of? 

Har.  No,  not  so  much  as  a  Hog's  Stye. 

Nes.  Was  you  born  in  any  famous  City  ? 

Har.  No,  in  a  poor  sorry  Village :  for  a  Man  must 
not  lye  when  he  asks  Counsel. 

Nes.  That's  very  true  ;  but  is  there  never  a  Mountain 
near  that  Village  ? 

Har.  There  is. 

Nes.  And  is  there  any  Rock  near  that  ? 

Har.  Yes,  a  very  steep  one. 

Nes.  Why,  then  you  shall  be  '  Harpalus,  the  Knight 
of  the  Golden  Rock.' 

Har.  But  most  great  Men,  I  observe,  have  their 
peculiar  Motto's  :  As,  Maximilian  had  '  Keep  within 
Compass';  and  Philip,  'He  that  will';  and  Charles, 
'  Further  yet' ;  some  one  Thing,  and  some  another. 

Nes.  Well,  do  you  let  yours  be,  '  Turn  every  Stone.' 2 

Har.  Nothing  more  pertinent. 

Nes.  Now,  to  confirm  the  World  in  their  Esteem  of 
you,  you  must  counterfeit  Letters  sent  you  from  such 
and  such  great  Persons,  in  which  you  must  frequently 
be  styled  the  Illustrious  Knight ;  and  there  must  be 
Mention  made  of  great  Affairs,  as  of  Estates,  Castles, 
huge  Revenues,  Commands,  great  Offices,  rich  Matches: 
and  you  must  contrive  that  these  Letters  shall  fall  into 
People's  Hands,  as  being  dropt  by  Chance,  or  forgotten. 

Har.  That  will  be  very  easy  to  me  ;  for,  I  understand 
Letters,  and  have  so  us'd  myself  to  it,  that  I  can 
counterfeit  any  Man's  Hand,  so  exactly,  that  he  shall 
not  know  it  from  his  own. 

Nes.  Either  sew  them  into  your  Garment,  or  leave 
them  in  your  Pocket,  that  when  you  send  your  Cloaths 
to  the  Taylor  to  mend,  he  may  find  them,  and  he  '11 


The  False  Knight  95 

make  no  Secret  of  it ;  and  when  you  come  to  the 
Knowledge  of  it,  put  an  Air  of  Vexation  and  Dis 
pleasure  on  your  Countenance,  as  if  you  were  heartily 
vex'd,  you  were  so  careless  as  to  leave  them  there. 

Har.  I  have  practised  that  so  long,  that  I  can  as 
easily  change  my  Countenance,  as  I  can  my  Dress. 

Nes.  By  this  Means  the  Deceit  will  not  be  dis 
covered,  and  the  Matter  will  be  blaz'd  abroad. 

Har.  I  '11  be  sure  to  take  great  Care  of  that. 

Nes.  Then  you  must  furnish  yourself  with  Companions, 
or  Servants,  who  shall  stand  Cap  in  Hand  to  you,  and 
call  you  my  young  Lord  at  every  Turn.  You  need  not 
be  discourag'd  at  the  Charge  ;  there  are  a  great  many 
young  Men  who  will  act  this  Part  for  nothing,  or  for 
the  Humour's-Sake.  And  besides,  there  are  a  great 
many  scribbling  Blades  in  this  Country,  that  are 
strangely  infected  with  the  Itch  (I  was  going  to  say  the 
Scab)  of  Writing  ;  and  there  are  hungry  Printers,  that 
will  venture  at  any  Thing,  if  there  be  but  any  Hope  of 
getting  Money.  You  must  bribe  some  of  these,  to  give 
you  in  their  Pamphlets  the  Title  of  a  Nobleman  of  your 
Country,  and  let  it  be  repeated  every  now  and  then  in 
Capital  Letters.  Thus  they  will  celebrate  you  a  Noble 
man  in  Bohemia ;  and  one  Book  spreads  more  than  an 
hundred  talkative  Tongues  or  prattling  Servants. 

Har.  I  don't  dislike  this  Way  neither  ;  but  there  will 
be  Servants  to  be  maintained. 

Nes.  There  will  so ;  but  then  you  must  not  keep 
idle  Servants,  that  have  no  Hands  ;  they  will  be  un 
profitable.3  You  must  send  one  one  Way,  and  another 
another,  and  so  they  will  lay  their  Fingers  on  some 
thing  or  other  ;  they  will  have  frequent  Opportunities 
of  doing  that. 

Har.  Say  no  more  :  I  understand  you. 

Nes.  And  then  there  are  other  Inventions. 

Har.  Pray  let  me  hear  them. 

Nes.  Unless  you  are  an  expert  Gamester  at  Cards  and 


96  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Dice,  a  rank  Whore-Master,  a  stout  Drinker,  a  daring 
Extravagant,  and  understand  the  Art  of  Borrowing  and 
Bubbling,  and  have  got  the  French  Pox  to-boot,  scarce 
any  one  will  believe  you  to  be  a  Knight. 

Har.  I  have  been  train'd  up  to  these  Exercises.  But 
where  must  I  get  the  Money? 

Nes.  Hold,  I  was  coming  to  that :  Have  you  any 
Estate  ? 

Har.  A  very  little  one. 

Nes.  Well,  but  when  you  are  once  settled  in  the 
Reputation  of  a  great  Man,  you  will  easily  find  Fools 
that  will  give  you  Credit  ;  some  will  be  asham'd,  and 
others  afraid  to  deny  you ;  and  there  are  a  thousand 
Ways  to  delude  Creditors. 

Har.  I  am  not  unacquainted  with  them.  But  they'll 
be  very  pressing,  when  they  find  nothing  coming  but 
Words? 

Nes.  Nay,  on  the  contrary,  no  man  has  his  Creditors 
more  at  Command,  than  he  that  owes  Money  to  a  great 
many. 

Har.  How  so  ? 

Nes.  First  of  all,  your  Creditor  pays  you  that  Observ 
ance,  as  if  he  was  the  Person  obliged ;  and  is  afraid 
lest  he  should  give  any  Occasion  of  losing  his  Money. 
No  Man  has  his  Servants  so  much  in  Awe,  as  a  Debtor 
his  Creditor  ;  and  if  you  ever  pay  them  any  Thing,  it  is 
more  kindly  taken  than  if  you  gave  it  them. 

Har.  I  have  found  it  so. 

Nes.  But  you  must  take  Care  not  to  deal  with  little 
People,  for  they'll  make  a  great  Noise  for  a  small 
Matter ;  those  that  have  a  more  plentiful  Fortune,  are 
more  easy  to  be  appeas'd  ;  they  will  be  restrain'd  by 
Modesty,  led  on  by  Hope,  or  deterr'd  by  Fear,  for  they 
know  the  Danger  of  meddling  with  Men  of  Power. 
And  last  of  all,  when  you've  got  over  Head  and  Ears 
in  Debt,  then  upon  one  Pretence  or  another  remove 
your  Quarters  first  to  one  Place,  and  then  to  another ; 


The  False  Knight  97 

and  you  need  not  be  asham'd  of  that,  for  no  Body  is 
more  in  Debt  than  great  Princes.  If  you  find  yourself 
press'd  by  a  Fellow  of  mean  Condition,  make  as  if  you 
were  provok'd  by  his  Confidence ;  but  make  a  small 
Payment  now  and  then,  but  never  pay  the  whole  Sum, 
nor  to  all  your  Creditors.  But  you  must  always  take 
Care  that  none  ever  come  to  know  that  you  have  an 
empty  Pocket ;  always  make  a  Shew  of  Money. 

Har.  But  what  can  a  Man  make  a  Shew  of  that  has 
nothing? 

Nes.  If  any  Friend  has  given  you  any  Thing  to  lay 
up  for  him,  show  it  as  your  own,  but  do  it  artfully,  as  if 
it  were  done  by  Chance.  And  it  will  be  good  in  this 
Case  to  borrow  Money  and  shew  it,  tho!  you  pay  it 
again  presently.  Pull  a  Couple  of  Guineas,  that  you 
have  plac'd  by  themselves,  out  of  your  Pocket,  from 
a  whole  Pocket  full  of  Counters.  You  may  inagine 

Har.  I  understand  ye  ;  but  at  last  I  must  of  Necessity 
sink  under  my  Debts. 

Nes.  You  know  what  Knights  can  do  with  us. 

Har.  They  do  just  what  they  please,  and  there's  no 
Redress. 

Nes.  Let  those  Servants  you  keep  be  such  as  are 
diligent  ones,  or  some  of  your  Kindred,  such  as  must 
be  kept  however.  They  '11  stumble  now  and  then  upon 
some  Merchant  upon  the  Way,  and  rob  him  ;  they  '11 
find  something  in  an  Inn,  a  House,  or  a  Boat  that 
wants  a  Keeper  ;  they  will  remember  that  a  Man's 
Fingers  were  not  given  him  for  nothing. 

Har.  Ay,  if  this  could  be  done  with  Safety. 

Nes.  You  must  take  Care  to  keep  them  in  handsome 
Liveries,  and  be  still  sending  them  with  counterfeit 
Letters  to  this  great  Man,  or  the  other.  If  they  steal 
any  Thing,  altho'  they  should  suspect  them,  no  Body 
will  dare  to  charge  them  with  it,  for  Fear  of  the  Knight 
their  Master.  If  they  chance  to  take  a  Booty  by  Force, 
'tis  as  good  as  a  Prize  in  War. 

VOL.  III.  G 


g  8  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Har.  O  brave  Counsel  ! 

Nes.  This  Maxim  of  Knighthood  is  always  to  be 
maintained,  That  it  is  lawful  for  a  Knight  upon  the 
Road,  to  ease  a  common  Traveller  of  his  Money  ;  for 
what  can  be  more  dishonourable,  than  for  a  pitiful 
Tradesman  to  have  Money  enough,  and  a  Knight  at 
the  same  Time  wants  it  to  spend  upon  his  Whores,  and 
at  Dice?  Get  as  much  as  you  can  into  the  Company 
of  great  Men,  tho'  you  pin  yourself  upon  them ;  and 
that  you  may  not  be  asham'd  of  any  Thing,  you  must 
put  on  a  brazen  Face,  but  especially  to  your  Host.  And 
it  will  be  best  for  you  to  live  in  some  publick  Place,  as 
at  the  Bath,  and  at  the  most  frequented  Inns. 

Har.  I  was  thinking  of  that. 

Nes.  In  such  Places  Fortune  will  oftentimes  throw 
some  Prey  in  the  Way. 

Har.  How?  I  beseech  you. 

Nes.  Suppose  one  drops  a  Purse,  another  leaves  the 
Key  in  the  Door  of  his  Store-House,  or  so,  you  take  me 
in. 

Har.  But 

Nes.  What  are  you  afraid  of?  Who  '11  dare  to  suspect 
a  Person  that  goes  as  you  do,  talks  great,  the  Knight  of 
the  Golden  Rock?  If  there  shall  happen  to  be  any 
saucy  Fellow,  impudent  enough  to  dare  to  suspect  you, 
the  Suspicion  will  rather  be  cast  upon  some  Body  that 
went  away  the  Day  before.  There  will  be  a  Disorder 
among  the  Master  and  the  Servants,  and  do  you  behave 
yourself  as  a  Person  wholly  unconcern'd.  If  this, 
Accident  befals  either  a  Man  of  Modesty,  or  of  Brains,, 
he'll  pass  it  over  without  making  Words  of  it,  lest  he 
lose  his  Credit  as  well  as  his  Money,  for  looking  no 
better  after  it. 

Har.  That's  very  Probable,  for  I  suppose  you  know 
the  Count  of  the  White- Vulture. 

Nes.  Why  not  ? 

Har.  I  have  heard  of  a  certain  Spaniard,  a  handsome 


The  False  Knight  99 

genteel  Fellow,  that  lodg'd  at  his  House,  he  carried 
away  a  Matter  of  six  hundred  Florins  ;  behaving  him 
self  with  that  State,  that  the  Count  never  dar'd  to  open 
his  Mouth  against  him. 

Nes.  You  have  a  Precedent  then.  You  may  now  and 
then  send  out  a  Servant  for  a  Soldier,  and  he  having 
rifled  Churches  and  Monasteries,  will  return  loaden 
with  the  Plunder  that  he  has  got  by  the  Law  of  Arms. 

Har.  This  is  the  safest  Expedient  that  we  have  had 
yet. 

Nes.  There  is  yet  another  Way  of  getting  Money. 

Har.  Pray  let  me  hear  what  that  is. 

Nes.  Pick  a  Quarrel  with  those  that  have  a  good  Deal 
of  Money,  especially  with  Monks  or  Priests  ;  for  the 
People  generally  look  very  invidiously  upon  them  now- 
a-Days,  viz.  One  broke  a  Jest  upon  you,  another  spit 
upon  your  Escutcheon,  another  spoke  dishonourably  of 
you ;  one  or  the  other  wrote  something  that  might  be 
interpreted  scandalous.  Send  your  Heralds  to  declare 
an  irreconcilable  War.  Breathe  nothing  but  Destruc 
tion  and  Ruin :  And  they  being  terrified  will  come  to 
you  to  make  it  up.  Then  see  that  you  set  a  great  Price 
upon  your  Dignity  ;  and  that  is,  you  must  ask  out  of 
Reason,  for  your  bearing  that  which  is  reasonable.  If 
you  make  a  Demand  of  three  thousand  Guineas,  they 
will  be  asham'd  to  offer  you  less  than  two  hundred. 

Har.  And  I  will  threaten  others  with  the  Law. 

Nes.  That 's  more  like  a  Sycophant ;  but  yet  it  may 
help  in  some  Degree.  But  hark  ye,  Harpalus,  I  had 
almost  forgot  what  I  should  have  mention'd  first :  Some 
young  Wench  with  a  good  Fortune  is  to  be  drawn  into 
the  Noose  of  Matrimony  ;  you  have  Charms  in  yourself, 
you're  young  and  handsome,  you're  a  Beau,  and  have  a 
pretty  smiling  Countenance  ;  give  it  out  that  you  are 
call'd  away  to  some  great  Office  in  the  Emperor's  Court. 
Girls  are  fond  of  marrying  Nobility. 

Har.  I  know  some  that  have  made  their  Fortunes 


IOO  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

this  Way.  But  what  if  the  Cheat  should  be  discovered, 
and  all  my  Creditors  should  fall  upon  me  at  once  ? 
Then  I,  the  sham  Knight,  shall  become  a  Laughing 
stock  ;  for  Creditors  hate  this  Sort  of  Tricking  worse 
than  they  do  robbing  of  Churches. 

Nes.  Why,  in  this  Case  you  must  remember  to  put 
on  a  brazen  Face,  and  that  Impudence  never  past  so 
current  for  Wisdom,  as  it  does  now-a-Days.  You  must 
betake  yourself  to  Invention  for  some  Excuse  ;  and  you 
will  always  find  some  easy  People,  that  will  favour  it ; 
and  some  so  civil,  that  if  they  perceive  the  Fallacy,  they 
will  not  discover  it.  And  last  of  all,  if  you  can  do 
nothing  else,  you  must  shew  them  a  Pair  of  Heels,  and 
run  into  the  Army  or  a  Riot  :  '  for  as  the  Sea  hides  all 
Mischief/4  so  War  hides  all  Sins.  And  now-a-Days,  he 
that  has  not  been  train'd  up  in  this  School,  is  not  look'd 
upon  fit  to  be  a  Commander.  This  must  be  your  last 
Shift,  when  every  Thing  else  fails  you ;  but  you  must 
turn  every  Stone  before  you  come  to 't.  Take  Care  that 
you  are  not  ruin'd  by  being  bound  for  other  Men.  Shun 
little  Towns  that  a  Man  can't  let  a  Fart  in,  but  the 
People  must  know  it  :  In  great  and  populous  Cities  a 
Man  may  take  more  Liberty,  unless  it  be  in  such  a 
Place  as  Marseilles.  Make  it  your  Business  to  know 
what  People  say  of  you  ;  and  when  you  hear  the  People 
begin  to  talk  at  this  Rate,  What  does  this  Man  do  here 
so  long?  why  does  he  not  go  Home,  and  look  after  his 
Castles?  whence  does  he  take  his  Pedigree?  whence 
does  he  get  Money  to  live  so  extravagantly  ?  when  you 
find  that  such  Talk  as  this  grows  rife  among  the  People, 
it  is  Time  for  you  to  think  of  packing  up  your  Awls,  and 
be  jogging  in  good  Time  ;  but  make  your  Retreat  like 
a  Lion,  and  not  like  a  Hare.  Pretend  you  are  call'd 
away  by  the  Emperor  to  some  great  Employment ;  and 
that  you  shall  return  in  a  short  Time  at  the  Head  of  an 
Army.  Those  that  have  any  Thing  they  are  not  willing 
to  lose,  won't  dare  to  open  their  Mouths  against  you 


The  False  Knight  101 

when  you  are  gone.  But  above  all,  I  advise  you  to 
have  a  Care  of  that  peevish  malicious  Set  of  Men  call'd 
Poets.  If  any  Thing  displeases  them,  they  will  envenom 
their  Papers,  and  the  Venom  of  them  will  be  of  a  sudden 
diffused  all  the  World  over. 

Har.  Let  me  die  if  I  am  not  wonderfully  pleas'd  with 
your  Counsel ;  and  I  '11  make  it  my  business  to  let  you 
see  that  you  have  got  a  docible  Scholar,  and  a  Youth 
that  is  not  ungrateful ;  the  first  good  Horse  that  I  shall 
get  into  my  Pasture,  that  is  equal  to  your  Deserts,  I  will 
present  you  with. 

Nes.  Well,  all  that  remains,  is,  that  you  be  as  good 
as  your  Word.  But  what  is  the  Reason  that  you  should 
be  so  fond  of  a  false  Opinion  of  Nobility? 

Har.  For  no  other  Reason,  but  that  they  are  in  a 
Manner  lawless,  and  do  what  they  please.  And  do  you 
think  this  a  Matter  of  small  Moment  ? 

Nes.  If  the  worst  come  that  can  come,  Death  is  owing 
to  Nature,  altho'  you  liv'd  a  Carthusian  ;  and  it  is  an 
easier  Death  to  be  broken  on  the  Wheel,  than  to  die  of 
the  Stone,  the  Gout,  or  the  Palsy  :  for  it  is  like  a  Soldier 
to  believe,  that  after  Death  there  remains  nothing  of  a 
Man  but  his  Carcass. 

Har.  And  I  am  of  that  Opinion. 


A  2  T  P  A  r  A  A I  2  M  O  2 

THE  ARGUMENT 

'A.<TTpaya\ifffj.6s,1  or  the  Play  of  Cock-all,  shews  what  the 
Talus  is,  and  where  it  is  situated.  How  they  us'd  to 
Play  at  Cock-all  in  old  Time.  Why  the  Clergy  wear 
their  Garments  down  to  their  Ancles,  for  the  Sake  of 
Modesty  and  Distinction.  Talus  is  a  Sort  of  a  Leg- 
Bone.  The  Etymology  of  'Affrpdya\tfffj.os,  a  Sort  of 
Play,  in  English  call'd  Cock-all,  or  Take-all.  The 
Ace  is  a  bad  Cast  of  the  Dice.  Aumesace,  or  Dog- 
Chance.  Size  is  a  good  Cast,  and  is  call'd  Senio  or 
Midas 

QUIKINUS,  CHARLES 

Qu.  Cato  bids  us  learn  of  those  that  are  learned  ;  and 
for  that  Reason,  my  Utenhovius,  I  have  a  Mind  to  make 
Use  of  you  for  my  Master.  For  what  Reason  did  the 
antient  Directors  in  religious  Affairs,  order  the  Clergy 
to  wear  Ancle-Coats,  that  is,  Vestments  reaching  down 
to  their  Ancles  ? 

Ch.  I  am  of  Opinion  it  was  done  for  these  two 
Reasons  :  First,  for  the  Sake  of  Modesty,  that  nothing 
of  Nakedness  might  be  exposed  :  For,  in  old  Time,  they 
did  not  wear  those  Sort  of  Trousers  that  reach  from  the 
Waist  to  the  Feet ;  nor  did  they,  in  common,  wear 
Drawers  or  Breeches.  And,  for  the  same  Reason,  it  is 
accounted  immodest  for  Women  to  wear  short  Coats, 
long  ones  being  more  agreeable  to  the  Modesty  of  the 
Sex.  In  the  second  Place,  not  only  for  the  Sake  of 
Modesty,  but  also  to  distinguish  them  from  the  common 
People,  by  their  Habit ;  for,  the  more  loose  they  are  in 
their  Morals,  the  shorter  they  wear  their  Coats. 


The  Play  of  Cock-alt  103 

Qu.  What  you  say  is  very  probable.  But  I  have 
learn'd  from  Aristotle  and  Pliny,  that  Men  have  not  the 
Tali,  but  only  four-footed  Beasts  ;  and  not  all  of  them 
neither,  but  only  some  of  those  that  are  cloven-footed  ; 
nor  have  they  them  in  their  hinder  Legs.  How  then 
can  the  Garment  be  call'd  a  Talarian  Garment,*  which  a 
Man  wears,  unless  in  former  Days  Men  went  upon  all- 
fours,  according  to  Aristophanes's  Play? 

Ch.  Nay,  if  we  give  Credit  to  CEdipus,  there  are  some 
Men  that  are  four-footed,  some  three-footed,  and  some 
two-footed,  and  oftentimes  they  come  from  a  Battle  one- 
footed,  and  sometimes  without  e'er  a  Foot  at  all.  But, 
as  for  the  Word,  you  would  be  more  at  a  Loss  if  you 
were  to  read  Horace,  who  attributes  the  Tali  to  Plays. 
For  thus,  I  think,  he  writes  in  his  Art  of  Poetry  ; 

Securus  cadat,  an  recto  stet  fabula  talo. 

Being  regardless  whether  or  no  the  Comedy  fall 
or  stand  upon  its  Talus. 

Qu,  Poets  have  a  Liberty  of  speaking  as  they  please  ; 
who  give  Ears  to  Tmolus,3  and  make  Ships  speak,  and 
Oaks  dance. 

Ch.  But  your  own  Aristotle  could  have  taught  you 
this,  that  there  are  half  Tali,  which  he  calls  ^larrrpa- 
yaXour,  that  he  attributes  to  those  Beasts  that  are  of  the 
Lynx  Kind.  And  he  says,  that  Lions  have  that  which  is 
instead  of  the  Talus,  but  it  is  crooked,  or  turned  to  and 
fro  ;  and  that  which  he  calls  \aj3vpivda>8fs,  Pliny  trans 
lates  tortuosum  [full  of  Turnings  and  Windings].  And 
in  the  last  Place,  Bones  are  every  where  inserted  into 
Bones,  for  the  Conveniency  of  bending  the  Joints  ;  and 
there  are  Cavities  for  the  receiving  the  Prominencies 
that  answer  to  them,  that  are  defended  on  each  Side 
with  a  slippery  Cartilage,  the  Parts  being  so  inviron'd, 
or  kept  in,  that  they  can't  hurt  one  another  ;  as  the  same 
Aristotle  teaches  us.  And  there  is,  for  the  most  Part,  in 
these,  something  that  answers  pretty  near,  both  in  Form 


IO4  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

and  Use,  to  the  Talus :  In  the  lower  Part  of  the  Leg, 
near  the  Heel,  where  is  the  bending  of  the  whole  Foot, 
there  is  a  Prominence  which  resembles  the  Tatus,  which 
the  Greeks  call  a-(f)vpov.  Again,  we  see  in  the  bending 
of  the  Knee  a  Vertebra,  which,  if  I  am  not  mistaken 
they  call  io-xiov.  And  we  also  see  something  like  this 
in  the  Hips,  in  the  Shoulders,  and,  lastly,  in  the  Joints 
of  the  Toes  and  Fingers.  And,  that  it  may  not  seem 
strange  to  you,  the  Greeks  write,  that  the  Word  da-rpd- 
yd\os  4  is,  in  approved  Authors,  applied  to  the  Bones, 
of  which  the  Spine  is  compos'd,  especially  in  the  Neck. 
For  they  quote  you  this  Verse  : 

'Ed  8e  /Ltot  avxyv 
'A.crTpayd\u>v  fdyrj. 

My  Neck-Bone  was  broke  on  the  outside  the  Tali. 

And,  as  Aristotle  says,  the  fore  Legs  are  given  to 
Animals,  upon  the  Account  of  Swiftness,  and  for  that 
Reason  are  without  the  Tali ;  the  hind  Legs  for  Firm 
ness,  because  the  Weight  of  the  Body  bears  upon  that 
Part :  as  also  it  contributes  to  Strength  in  those  Crea 
tures  that  kick.  Horace,  to  signify  that  the  Play  was 
not  cut  short,  but  acted  quite  to  the  End,  says,  Stetit 
fixo  talo  ;  and  uses  the  Word  Talus  in  a  Play,  in  the 
same  Sense  as  we  apply  the  Word  Calx  to  a  Book  ;  and 
also  says,  the  Umbilicus  voluminis,  or  Navel  of  a 
Volume. 

Qu.  In  Troth,  you  play  the  Part  of  a  Grammarian 
very  cleverly. 

Ch.  But  to  confirm  it,  the  more  learned  Greeks  will 
have  'AorpayaAoy  deriv'd  of  o-rpe'^w,  and  the  privative 
Particle  a,  because  it  is  never  bended,  but  is  immove- 
able.  But  others  chuse  to  derive  da-rpdyaXos  from 
do-ra-yaXoy,  by  inserting  the  Letter  p,  because  it  can't 
stand  by  Reason  of  its  slippery  Volubility. 

Qu.   If  you  go  that  Way  to  Work,  you  may  make  a 


The  Play  of  Cock-all  105 

great  many  more  Guesses  :  But  I  think  it  a  fairer  Way 
to  confess  Ignorance  in  the  Matter. 

Ch.  This  Guess  will  not  seem  so  very  absurd,  if  you 
consider  what  great  Obscurity  there  is  in  the  primitive 
Origin  of  Words  :  And  besides,  there  is  nothing  contra 
dictious  in  the  Matter,  if  you  look  narrowly  into  it.  The 
Talus  is  voluble,  but  it  is  voluble  after  such  a  Manner, 
that  it  renders  that  Part  to  which  it  is  inserted,  the  more 
firm  for  standing  ;  and  then  it  joins  one  Bone  to  another 

Qu.  I  find  you  can  play  the  Part  of  a  Sophister,  when 
you  have  a  Mind  to  it. 

Ch.  But  there  is  nothing  in  the  Word  Talus,  that  the 
Etymology  of  it  should  perplex  us  ;  for  that  which  the 
modern  Greeks  call  do-rpdyaXoy,  the  Antients,  of  which 
Callimachus  was  one,  call'd  ao-rpiov,  to  whom  this 
Hemistich  is  ascribed  A/KO  8'  aa-rpia  aivvro  Xvrpov  ; 
whence,  as  the  Greeks  us'd  the  Word  acrrpayaXi^fiv,  so 
they  also  used  the  WTord  d<rrpi'f«i>,  to  play  at  Cock-all. 

Qu.  What  then  is  that  which  is  properly  the  Ta/us? 

Ch.  It  is  that  which  now-a-Days  the  Girls  play  with  ; 
it  was  formerly  a  Boy's  Play,  as  Cob-Nuts  was  ;  con 
cerning  which  there  is  this  Greek  Sentence,  'A^: 
dcrrpaydXoio-i  -^okwQtls,  when  they  would  intimate  that 
Persons  were  angry  for  a  Trifle.  Again  Horace  in  his 
Odes  has  Nee  regna  vim  sortiere  talis.  And  also  in  his 
Sermones  ;  Te  talos  Aule  nucesque,  etc.  And  lastly, 
that  Saying  of  the  Lacedemonian,  if  I  am  not  mistaken, 
Pueros  esse  fallendos  talis,  vires  jurejurando.  They 
deny  that  the  Talus  is  found  in  any  Animal  that  is 
nmvvxov,  that  is,  that  has  a  solid  Hoof,  except  the  Indian 
Ass  that  has  but  one  Horn  ;  or  that  is  TroXuo-^tfies,  that 
has  its  Foot  divided  into  many  Toes  or  Claws  ;  of  which 
Sort  are  the  Lion,  the  Panther,  the  Dog,  the  Ape,  a 
Man,  a  Bird,  and  a  great  many  others  :  But  those 
Animals  that  are.Si'x^Xa,  that  have  a  Hoof  divided  into 
two,  many  of  them  have  the  Talus,  and  that,  as  you  said 
very  rightly,  in  their  hinder  Legs.  Man  only  has  not 


io6  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

the  Talus  for  two  Reasons  :  First  because  he  is  two- 
footed  ;  and  secondly,  because  his  Foot  is  divided  into 
five  Toes. 

Qu.  That  I  have  heard  often  ;  but  I  should  be  glad  to 
hear  where  the  Talus  was  situated,  and  what  Form  it 
has  described  ;  for  that  Sort  of  Play  is  quite  out  of 
Doors  even  with  Girls  now-a-Days,  and  they  rather  affect 
Dice,  Cards,  and  other  masculine  Plays. 

Ch.  That  is  not  to  be  wonder'd  at,  when  they  affect 
Divinity  itself:  But  if  I  were  a  Mathematician,  or  a 
Painter,  or  a  Founder,  I  could  not  represent  it  more 
clearly  to  you,  than  by  shewing  you  the  Talus  itself; 
unless  you  would  have  me  describe  it  algebraically,  as 
they  do. 

Qu.  Have  you  got  e'er  a  Talus  ? 

Ch.  Here's  one  out  of  the  right  Leg  of  a  Sheep,  you 
see  it  has  but  four  Sides,  when  a  Cube  and  a  Dice  has 
six,  four  on  the  Sides,  one  at  the  Top,  and  one  at  the 
Bottom. 

Qu.  It  is  so. 

Ch.  And  forasmuch  as  the  upper  and  lower  Part  of 
the  Talus  is  crooked,  it  has  but  four  Sides,  one  of  which, 
you  see,  rises  like  a  Ridge. 

Qu.  I  see  it. 

Ch.  On  the  opposite  Side  there  is  a  Hollow ;  this 
Aristotle  calls  irpaves,  that  is,  prone ;  and  this  VTTTLOV, 
that  is,  supine  :  as  when  in  the  Act  of  Copulation,  for 
the  Sake  of  Procreation,  the  Woman  is  supine,  and  the 
Man  is  prone  :  And  the  Hand,  if  the  Palm  of  it  be  held 
towards  the  Ground,  is  prone  ;  if  you  turn  it  up,  it  is 
supine  ;  tho'  Orators  and  Poets  do  sometimes  confound 
the  Use  of  these  Words,  but  that  is  nothing  to  the 
Matter  in  Hand. 

Qu.  You  have  demonstrated  this  very  plainly  to  my 
Sight ;  but  what 's  the  Difference  between  the  two  other 
Sides  ? 

Ch.   One   of  them    is   hollowed  a  little,  to   make   it 


The  Play  of  Cock-all  107 

ans.verable  to  the  Bone  to  which  it  is  joined  ;  the  other 
has  no  Hollow  at  all  to  speak  on,  and  is  not  so  much 
defended  with  a  cartilaginous  Coat,  but  is  only  cover'd 
with  a  Nerve  and  a  Skin. 

Qu.  I  see  it  very  plain. 

Ch.  The  prone  Side  has  no  Nerves  at  all ;  but  to  the 
Concavity  of  the  supine  Part  a  Nerve  adheres,  to  the 
Top  of  the  right  Side  and  the  Bottom  of  the  left. 

Qu.  You  make  it  out  very  plain  ;  but  how  must  I 
know  the  right  Side  from  the  left? 

Ch.  That 's  very  well  minded  ;  for  I  had  instructed 
you  very  illy,  except  you  suppose  me  to  mean  the  Talus 
of  the  right  Leg :  I  will  tell  you,  and  at  the  same  time 
I  '11  shew  you  the  Situation  of  it,  which  you  desired  to 
know.  The  Talus  is  in  the  Bending  of  the  Leg  beneath 
the  Hip. 

Qu.  A  great  many  are  of  Opinion  it  is  near  the  Foot. 

Ch.  They  are  under  a  Mistake :  That  which  is 
properly  call'd  the  Talus,  is  in  the  Bendings  of  the 
Joints,  which  the  Greeks  call  Kaunas ;  but  those  of  the 
hinder  Legs,  as  I  said  before,  between  your  Foot  and 
your  Knee,  is  the  Tibia. 

Qu.  Why,  so  I  think. 

Ch.  Behind  the  Knee,  KG/XTD?. 

Qu.  I  allow  it. 

Ch.  For  those  Bendings  which  Men  have  in  their 
Arms,  four-footed  Beasts  have  in  their  hinder  Legs  ; 
but  I  except  the  Ape,  which  is  but  half  Man  :  and  so 
that  which  is  the  Knee  in  the  Leg,  is  the  Elbow  in  the 
Arm. 

Qu.  I  take  it  in. 

Ch.  And  so  one  Bending  answers  to  another. 

Qu.  You  mean  of  the  fore  Legs  and  the  hinder 
Legs? 

Ch.  You  have  it  :  So  that  in  that  Bending  which 
answers  to  the  Bending  which  is  behind  the  Knee,  the 
Talus  stands  upright  when  a  four-footed  Beast  stands, 


io8  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

the  upper  and  lower  Part  of  which  is  a  little  bended,  but 
not  altogether  after  the  same  Manner  ;  for  the  upper 
Part  is  folded  back  into  a  Sort  of  Horns,  as  it  were, 
which  Aristotle  calls  Ktpaias  ;  Theodorus  translates  the 
Word  Antennas ;  near  to  which  the  prone  Side  gives 
Way  ;  the  Bottom  has  no  such  Thing. 

Qu.  I  perceive  it  very  plainly. 

Ch.  Therefore  Aristotle  calls  that  side  which  is  to 
wards  the  fore  Legs,  supine  ;  and  that  which  is  contrary 
to  it,  prone.  Again,  there  are  two  Sides,  one  of  which 
inwardly,  is  towards  the  hinder  Leg,  either  the  right  or 
left,  suppose  which  you  will ;  the  other  looks  outwards : 
that  which  looks  inwards  Aristotle  calls  K£>\OI>,  and  that 
which  looks  outwards,  tcr^/ov. 

Qu.  I  see  it  plainly  with  my  Eyes  :  but  still  here 's  this 
to  be  done,  to  inform  me  what  was  the  antient  Manner 
of  playing  with  these  Tali  :  for  the  Play  as  it  is  us'd  now- 
a-Days,  is  quite  different  from  what  we  find  in  antient 
Authors  concerning  this  Sort  of  Play.5 

Ch.  And  truly  that 's  very  likely,  as  we  in  like  Manner 
now  pervert  the  Use  of  Cards  and  Dice  from  the  antient 
Manner  of  playing  with  them. 

Qu.  What  you  say  is  very  probable. 

Ch.  Theodorus  Gaza,  or  as  others  rather  chuse  to  call 
him,  of  Thessalonica,  in  translating  Aristotle's  second 
Book  of  his  History  of  Animals,  says,  That  the  Side  of 
the  Talus  that  looks  outwardly  transverse,  was  call'd 
Canis  ;  and  that  which  looks  inwardly  to  the  other  Leg> 
Venus  :  and  then  he  adds  to  it  this  of  his  own,  for 
Aristotle  said  no  more  ;  To  p.ev  Trpaves  ft-a>,  TO  8*  virrtov 
el'crco,  Kal  ra  ptv  /ccoAa  euros  ftrrpafipfva  Trpbs  aXXi;Xa,  ra  8t 
tcr^ta  Ka\ovp.fi>a  e£a>,  Kal  ras  Kfpaias  ava>.  But  since  it  is 
certain  that  the  Throw  is  call'd  Venus's  by  other  Persons, 
as  often  as  in  four  Dice  the  uppermost  Sides  of  them 
all  are  different  one  from  another  ;  I  wonder  by  what 
Example  Theodorus  calls  one  side  Venus.  Our  Erasmus 
who  is  our  common  Friend,  who  is  no  negligent  Ob- 


The  Play  of  Cock-all  109 

server  of  these  things,  in  some  of  his  Proverbs  upon  the 
Authority  of  the  Antients,  intimates  some  Things  of  the 
Play  of  the  Tali ;  as  in  the  Proverb,  Non  Chius  sed  Cous ; 
he  says  that  the  Cous  and  the  Size  were  the  same  that 
the  Greeks  call'd  efiViji/.  He  relates  the  same  in  the 
Proverb  Chius  ad  Cous  (adding  that  Chius  was  the  same 
with  Cam's,  the  Ace).  That  the  Cast  of  the  Cous  was  a 
lucky  Cast,  but  of  the  Cants  an  unlucky  one,  according 
to  the  Testimony  of  Persius  : 

Quid  dexter  Senio  ferret 

Scire  erat  in  votis,  damnosa  canicula  quantum 
Raderet. 

And  likewise  Propertius  • 

Semper  damnosi  subsiluere  canes. 

And  Ovid,  in  his  second  Book  de  Tristibus,  calls  them 
damnosos  canes. 

And  Martial  adds,  that  the  Size  by  itself  is  a  lucky 
Cast ;  but  if  an  Ace  comes  up  with  it,  unlucky  ;  for  so 
he  speaks, 

Senio  nee  nostrum  cum  Cane  quassat  ebur. 

And  now  as  to  Venus's  Cast,  as  it  is  what  happens 
but  very  seldom,  so  it  is  a  very  lucky  Throw  :  As  Martial 
writes  in  his  Apophoreta  ; 

Cum  steterit  vultu  nullus  tibi  talus  eodem, 
Munera  me  dices  magna  dedisse  tibi. 

For  they  play'd  with  so  many  Tali  as  every  one  had 
Sides  :  for  as  to  Dice  they  used  to  play  but  with  three. 
But  that  which  Suetonius  writes  of  Octavius  Augustus 
comes  nearer  to  the  Method  of  Play,  reciting  out  of  a 
certain  Epistle  of  his  to  Tiberius  ;  '  At  Supper  we  play'd, 
both  Yesterday  and  to  Day,  like  old,  grave  Men,  at  Tali : 
And  as  every  one  threw  an  Ace  or  a  Size,  he  laid  down 
a  Piece  of  Money  for  every  Talus ;  and  he  that  threw 
Venus  took  up  all. 


no  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Qu.  You  told  me  before,  thai  ic  was  a  very  fortunate 
Throw  when  any  one  threw  four  different  Sides,  as  at 
Dice-Play  the  most  fortunate  Cast  is  Midas  ;  but  you 
did  not  tell  me  that  this  Cast  was  call'd  Venus. 

Ch.  Lucian  will  make  that  Matter  plain  to  you  :  Thus 
speaking  concerning  Cupids,  *al  /3aAd>v  piv  eV!  O-KOTTOV, 
/xaXio-ra  Se  ei  Trore  rr)i>  dfov  avrrjv  evjSoXrjO'fif.  M.T)8evbs 
dcrrpayaXov  necrovros  icra>  er^i^/iaTt^  irpocreKyvfi,  rrjs  (VldvfUOS 
Tevgfo-dai,  vofjLtfav.  He  there  speaks  of  Venus. 

Qu.  If  Theodorus  is  mistaken,  his  Words  only  make 
Mention  of  two  Sides. 

Ch.  I*  may  be,  he  follow'd  the  Authority  of  some 
Author  that  is  out  of  my  Memory ;  but  I  have  quoted 
what  I  find  in  Authors  :  For,  there  are  some  that  speak 
of  the  Stesichorian  Number,  as  to  the  Tali,  which  they 
take  to  be  the  Number  Eight ;  and  also  of  the  Euri- 
pidian,  which  contain'd  40. 

Qu.  But  it  remains,  that  you  lay  down  the  Rules  of 
the  Play. 

Ch.  I  am  not  of  the  Opinion,  that  Boys  make  Use  of 
the  same  Rule  that  Octavius  writes  he  observ'd  :  Nor  is 
it  probable,  that  this  Game  which  he  speaks  of  was  a 
common  one ;  if  that  had  been  so,  it  had  been  enough 
for  him  to  have  said,  'After  Supper  we  play'd  at  the 
Tali.'  But  he  seems  by  this  to  hint,  that  it  was  a  new 
Method  that  they  had  invented  among  themselves,  as 
one  that  was  fit  for  Persons  of  Age,  not  puzzling  their 
Minds  by  a  careful  Thoughtfulness,  as  a  great  many  of 
our  modern  Games  do  ;  so  that  it  is  much  less  Fatigue 
to  the  Mind  to  study  hard,  than  to  play. 

Qu.  Prithee,  pull  out  the  rest  of  the  Tali,  that  we  may 
try  an  Experiment  with  them. 

Ch.  But  we  have  no  Turret,  nor  Box  to  throw  them  in. 

Qu.  Why,  this  Table  will  do  well  enough  to  try  any 
Experiment  with  them  ;  or  this  Cup,  or  Cap,  will  supply 
the  Place  of  a  Turret. 

Ch.  Nay,  hussling  them  in  the  Palm  of  one's  Hand 


The  Play  of  Cock-all  1 1 1 

may  do  well  enough.  A  Throw  oftner  turns  up  the 
supine  Face  than  the  prone  Face  ;  and  the  prone  Face 
oftner  than  a  Size  or  an  Ace. 

Qu.  So  it  seems. 

Ch.  Now,  if  there  be  an  Ace  turn'd  up  in  the  four  Tali, 
you  shall  lay  down  one  Piece  of  Money ;  if  there  are 
two,  two  Pieces ;  if  three,  three  Pieces  ;  if  four,  four 
Pieces  :  and  as  often  as  you  throw  a  Size,  you  shall  take 
up  one  Piece. 

Qu,  But  what  if  I  should  throw  Size  Ace? 

Ch.  Why,  if  you  will,  both  of  us  shall  lay  down,  and 
neither  of  us  take  up  ;  and  he  that  throws  four  different 
Spots  shall  take  up  all. 

Qu.  What  if  we  throw  upper,  or  under,  blank  ? 

Ch.  That  Throw  shall  go  for  nothing,  and  either  you 
shall  throw  again,  or  I  '11  take  it. 

Qu.  I  had  rather  the  other  should  take  the  Cast. 

Ch.  Now  down  with  your  Money. 

Qu.  Let  s  play  for  nothing. 

Ch.  Would  you  learn  such  an  Art  as  this  for 
nothing  ? 

Qu.  But  it  is  an  unequal  Match,  for  one  that  knows 
nothing  of  the  Game  to  play  with  a  Gamester. 

Ch.  Well,  but  the  Hope  of  Winning,  and  the  Fear  of 
Losing,  will  make  you  mind  your  Game  the  better. 

Qu.  How  much  shall  we  play  for  ? 

Ch.  If  you  have  a  Mind  to  get  an  Estate  quickly,  let's 
play  for  100  Crowns. 

Qu.  I  wish  I  had  them  to  lay  down.  But 'tis  the  safer 
Way  to  grow  rich  gradually.  See  here 's  a  whole  Half- 
Penny. 

Ch.  Well,  come  on,  we  '11  add  a  little  to  a  little,  as 
Hesiod  advises,  and  this  will  in  Time  make  a  large 
Heap.  Shake  them,  and  throw  away.  A  good  Begin 
ning  :  You  have  thrown  an  Ace  ;  lay  down  your  Money, 
and  acknowledge  you're  on  the  losing  Side.  Give  me 
the  Tali. 


112  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Qu.  That's  a  better  Beginning,  there's  three  Aces; 
lay  down. 

Ch.  Fortune  is  laying  a  Trap  for  you  ;  throw  away, 
but  hussle  them  first.  O  good  Man  !  you  have  got 
nothing  at  all,  there  is  an  upper  Blank  and  an  under  one. 
'Tis  my  Throw,  give  me  the  Tali. 

Qu.  Well  done  again,  I  see  three  Aces. 

Ch.  Well,  '  don't  reckon  your  Chickens  before  they  be 
hatch'd.'6  Well,  Fortune  has  a  Mind  to  make  a  Game 
ster  of  you  ;  but  mind,  this  is  my  Way  of  learning. 
But  I  am  of  the  Opinion,  that  Octavius  play'd  after  a 
different  Manner. 

Qu.  How  was  it  ? 

Ch.  He  that  threw  an  Ace,  laid  down  a  Penny,  as  we 
said  ;  he  that  threw  a  Size  took  up  nothing,  but  the 
other  laid  down. 

Qu.  But  what  if  he  threw  Doublets  ? 

Ch.  Then  the  other  laid  down  so  many  Pieces ;  and 
when  there  was  a  good  Heap  of  Money  down,  he  that 
threw  Venus  took  up  all ;  and  you  may  add  this,  if  you 
will,  That  he  that  throws  neither  Size  nor  Ace,  shall  only 
lose  his  Throw. 

Qu.  I  agree  to  it. 

Ch.  But  I  look  upon  this  to  be  better.  That  he  that 
holds  the  Dice  shall  throw  thrice,  and  then  give  the 
Throw  to  the  other. 

Qu.  I  like  that  well  enough.  But  how  many  Venus's 
will  you  make  up  ? 

Ch.  Why  three,  if  you  will ;  and  after  that,  you  may 
make  a  new  Bargain,  or  play  who  shall  take  all  :  For  a 
Size  comes  up  but  seldom,  and  but  to  very  few  neither. 
Now  let  us  make  a  lucky  Beginning. 

Qu.  Well  ;  let  it  be  so  ;  but  we  had  best  have  the 
Doors  shut,  lest  our  Queen  of  the  Kitchen  should  happen 
to  see  us  playing  at  Children's  Play. 

Ch.  Nay,  we  rather  play  at  old  Men's  Play.  But  have 
you  got  a  Blab  of  a  Servant  then  ? 


The  Play  of  Cock-all  1 1 3 

Qu.  So  great  a  Gossip,  that  if  she  can't  find  any  Body 
else  to  tell  what's  done  at  Home,  she'll  hold  a  long 
Discourse  with  the  Hens  or  Cats,  about  it. 

Ch.  Soho  Boy  !  shut  the  Door  and  lock  it,  that  no 
Body  come  and  surprise  us  ;  that  we  may  play  our 
Belly-full. 


VOL.  III.  H 


TTNAIKO^TNEAPION 

THE  ASSEMBLY  OR  PARLIAMENT 
OF  WOMEN 

THE    ARGUMENT 

This  Senate  of  Women,  or  TwaM<o<jvv£5piov,  very  hand 
somely  exposes  some  of  the  Faults  of  Woman- Kind  : 
They  have  a  Mind  to  set  up  a  Common- Wealth,  and 
a  Parliament,  as  the  Men  have.  They  say  they  could 
order  Matters  better  than  the  greatest  Princes  have  done. 
A  Woman  that  disgraces  her  Husband,  disgraces  herself. 
The  Condition  of  Women  is  safer  than  that  of  Men. 
They  treat  of  Dress  and  Attire ;  and  that  there  be  a 
Difference  between  the  Commonalty  and  Gentry 

CORNELIA,  MARGARET,  PEROTTA,  JULIA, 
and  CA  THERINE 

Corn.  Since  so  many  of  you  are  assembled  here  to 
Day,  and  in  so  good  Humour,  for  the  Good  and  Happi 
ness  of  this  Convention,  and  the  whole  Common-Wealth 
of  Women,  it  gives  me  the  greatest  Hope,  that  every 
one's  good  Genius  will  suggest  to  her  those  Things  that 
concern  the  Dignity  and  Advantage  of  the  whole  Sex. 
I  believe,  you  all  know  what  a  Prejudice  it  has  been  to 
our  Affairs,  that,  while  the  Men  have  had  their  daily 
Meetings  for  transacting  their  Affairs,  we  have  been 
sitting  at  our  Spinning- Wheels,  and  neglected  the 
Management  of  our  own  Cause.  Whence  Things  are 
now  come  to  that  Pass,  that  there  are  not  the  least 
Footsteps  of  Discipline  and  Government  left  amongst 
us  ;  and  the  Men  made  a  mere  Jest  of  us,  and  scarce 


The  Parliament  of  Women  1 1  5 

allow  us  the  Title  of  rational  Creatures.  So  that  if  we 
go  on  as  we  have  done,  you  may  easily  foresee  what 
will  come  on  it  in  a  short  Time  ;  and  indeed,  I  am  afraid 
to  utter  it  :  and  if  we  should  take  no  Care  at  all  of  our 
Dignity,  yet  we  ought  to  have  some  Regard  to  our 
Safety.  And  the  wisest  of  Kings  has  left  it  upon  Record, 
that  in  the  Multitude  of  Counsellors  there  is  Safety. 
The  Bishops  have  their  Synods,  and  the  Flocks  of  Monks 
their  Conventicles  ;  the  Soldiers  their  Councils  of  War, 
and  Thieves  and  Pick-Pockets  their  Clubs  ;  and  even 
the  Pismires  themselves  have  their  Meetings  :  And  we 
Women,  of  all  living  Creatures,  are  the  only  ones  that 
have  had  no  Meeting  of  Members  at  all. 

Mar.  Oftner  than  is  becoming. 

Corn.  Don't  interrupt  there  ;  let  me  conclude  my 
Speech,  and  you  shall  have  all  Time  to  speak  in  your 
Turns.  That  which  we  now  do  is  no  new  Thing  ;  we 
only  revive  an  old  Custom  :  For,  if  I  am  not  mistaken, 
about  1300  Years  ago,  that  most  Praise-worthy  Emperor 
Heliogabalus ' 

Per.  Most  Praise-worthy  !  when  it  is  certain  he  was 
dragg'd  about  with  a  Hook,  and  thrown  into  a  House- 
of-Office. 

Corn.  Here  I  am  interrupted  again.  If  we  approve, 
or  disapprove  of  any  Person,  by  this  Way  of  arguing, 
we  must  allow  Christ  was  an  ill  Person  because  he  was 
crucified  ;  and  Domitian  a  good  Man,  because  he  died 
in  his  Bed.  The  worst  Thing  that  was  laid  to  the 
Charge  of  Heliogabalus,  was  his  flinging  down  to  the 
Ground  the  sacred  Fire  that  was  kept  by  the  Vestal 
Virgins  ;  and  that  he  had  the  Pictures  of  Moses  and 
Christ  hanging  up  in  his  private  Chapel,  whom,  by 
Way  of  Contempt,  they  called  Chrestus.  This  Helio 
gabalus  published  a  Proclamation,  that  as  he,  being 
Emperor,  had  a  Parliament  of  Men  to  consult  of  their 
common  Affairs  ;  so  his  Mother  Augusta  should  have 
her  Parliament  of  Women  to  transact  the  Affairs  of  their 


Il6  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

own  Sex  ;  which  the  Men,  either  by  Way  of  Drollery,  or 
Distinction,  call'd  the  Little  Senate.  This  Precedent, 
which  has  been  omitted  for  so  many  Years,  the  present 
Posture  of  our  Affairs  obliges  us  to  revive.  Neither  let 
any  one  be  scrupulous,  because  the  Apostle  Paul  forbids 
a  Woman  to  speak  in  the  Assembly,  that  he  calls  a 
Church  ;  for  he  speaks  of  an  Assembly  of  Men,  and  this 
is  an  Assembly  of  Women.  Otherwise,  if  Women  must 
always  hold  their  Tongues,  to  what  Purpose  did  Nature 
give  them,  which  are  as  voluble  as  Men's,  and  a  Voice 
that  is  shriller  ?  altho'  they  make  a  hoarser  Sound,  and 
thereby  resemble  Asses  more  than  we  do.  But  this 
ought  to  be  the  Care  of  us  all,  to  manage  our  Debates 
with  that  Gravity,  that  the  Men  may  not  call  our 
Assembly  a  Conventicle,  or  by  some  other  more  scan 
dalous  Name  :  and  they  are  used  to  be  forward  enough 
to  be  scurrilous  in  their  Language  to  us  ;  altho'  if  one 
might  estimate  their  Parliaments  according  to  Truth, 
they  will  appear  more  womanish  than  the  Assemblies  of 
Women  themselves.  We  see  Monarchs  have  done 
nothing  but  fight,  for  these  I  don't  know  how  many 
Years.  The  Students  of  Divinity,  Priests,  Bishops,  and 
People,  are  at  Daggers-drawing,  and  there  are  as  many 
Opinions  as  there  are  Men  in  the  World,  and  they  are 
more  inconsistent  in  them  than  we  Women  ourselves 
are.  One  City  does  not  agree  with  another,  nor  one 
Neighbour  with  another.  If  the  supreme  Administra 
tion  were  entrusted  in  our  Hands,  I  am  mistaken,  if  the 
World  would  not  be  managed  at  a  better  Rate  than  now 
it  is.  Perhaps  it  may  not  become  our  female  Modesty, 
to  charge  such  noble  Personages  with  Folly ;  but,  I 
suppose,  I  may  be  allowed  to  recite  what  Solomon  has 
written  in  the  I3th  Chapter  of  his  Proverbs,  'There  is 
always  Contention  among  the  Proud  ;  but  they  that  do 
every  Thing  by  Counsel,  are  governed  by  Wisdom.' 
But  that  I  may  not  detain  you  any  longer  with  a  tedious 
Preamble  ;  to  the  End  that  all  Things  may  be  carried 


The  Parliament  of  Women  \  \  7 

on  decently  and  without  Confusion,  in  the  first  Place  it 
will  be  necessary  to  consider  who  shall  be  allowed  as 
Members,  and  who  shall  be  excluded.  For  too  great  a 
Company  will  make  it  look  more  like  a  Mob  and  a  Riot 
than  a  grave  Assembly  ;  and  if  we  take  in  too  few,  it 
will  seem  to  be  something  tyrannical :  Therefore  I 
humbly  conceive,  that  no  Virgin  is  to  be  admitted  as  a 
Member ;  because  many  Things  may  happen  to  be 
debated,  that  are  not  proper  for  them  to  hear. 

Jul.  But  how  shall  we  be  able  to  know  who  are 
Virgins  and  who  are  not  ?  Will  you  allow  all  those  to 
be  Virgins  that  pass  for  such  ? 

Corn.  No  ;  but  my  Meaning  is,  that  none  but  married 
Women  be  admitted  among  us. 

Jul.  But  there  are  Virgins  among  those  that  are 
married  ;  such  as  have  Fumblers  for  their  Husbands.2 

Corn.  Well,  but  this  Honour  shall  be  allow'd  to  a 
married  State,  that  all  that  have  been  married  shall  be 
allowed  to  be  Women. 

Jul.  Under  your  Favour,  if  you  exclude  none  but 
Virgins,  we  shall  still  have  too  great  a  Number. 

Corn.  Well  then,  those  shall  be  excluded  that  have 
been  more  than  thrice  married. 

Jul.  For  what  Reason  ? 

Corn.  Because  they  ought  to  have  their  quietus  esf,  as 
being  superannuated.  And  I  am  of  Opinion,  that  we 
ought  to  do  the  same  by  those  that  are  upwards  of  70 
Years  of  Age.  I  think  also,  that  it  ought  to  be  resolved, 
Nemine  contradicente,  that  no  Woman  be  allow'd  par 
ticularly  to  mention  her  own  Husband  by  Name  too 
freely  :  It  may  be  allowed  to  speak  in  the  general  ;  but 
that  too  ought  to  be  done  with  Moderation  and 
Decency. 

Ca.  But  why  may  it  not  be  allow'd  us  to  talk  freely  of 
the  Men  here,  when  they  are  always  talking  about  us 
everywhere?  My  Titius,  whenever  he  has  a  Mind  to 
divert  his  Company,  tells  them  what  he  did  with  me  in 


1 1 8  Colloqu  ies  of  Erasm  us 

the  Night,  what  I  said  to  him,  and  oftentimes  affirms 
what  is  false. 

Corn.  If  we  would  speak  the  Truth,  our  Reputation 
depends  wholly  upon  that  of  the  Men  ;  so  that  if  we 
expose  them,  what  else  do  we  do  but  disgrace  ourselves  ? 
Andaltho'  indeed,  we  have  a  great  many  just  Complaints 
against  them ;  yet,  all  Things  being  duly  considered, 
our  Condition  is  much  preferable  to  theirs  :  For  they, 
endeavouring  to  get  a  Maintenance  for  their  Families, 
scamper  thro'  all  the  Parts  of  the  Earth  by  Land  and 
Sea.  In  Times  of  War,  they  are  call'd  up  by  the  Sound 
of  the  Trumpet,  stand  in  Armour  in  the  Front  of  the 
Battle,  while  we  sit  at  Home  in  Safety.  If  they  trans 
gress  the  Law,  they  are  punish'd  severely  ;  but  our  Sex 
is  spared.  And  in  the  last  Place,  for  the  most  Part  it  is 
in  our  own  Power  to  make  our  Husbands  such  as  we 
would  have  them.  But  it  remains,  that  we  come  to  some 
Resolutions  about  Precedency  in  taking  Places  ;  lest  it 
should  be  with  us  as  it  often  happens  among  the  Pleni 
potentiaries  of  Kings,  Princes,  and  Popes,  who  in  their 
Congresses,  squabble  away  three  Months  at  least  in 
Punctilios  and  Ceremony,  before  they  can  sit  down  to 
Business.  Therefore  it  is  my  Opinion,  that  none  but 
Peeresses  sit  in  the  first  Bench  ;  and  these  shall  take 
their  Places  according  to  the  Degrees  of  their  Nobility  : 
First,  those  that  have  four  ;  next,  those  that  have  three  ; 
after  them,  those  that  have  two  ;  then,  those  who  have 
but  one  ;  and  last  of  all,  those  who  have  but  half  a  one  : 
And  in  every  Rank  Regard  shall  be  had  to  Antiquity. 
Bastards  of  every  Rank  shall  sit  in  the  lowest  Place  of 
it.  The  next  Bench  shall  be  that  of  the  Commons  ; 
and  of  those,  they  shall  sit  in  the  foremost  Places  who 
have  had  the  most  Children  ;  and  between  those  who 
have  had  the  same  Number,  Age  shall  decide  the 
Difference.  The  Third  Bench  shall  be  for  those  who 
never  had  any  Children. 

Ca.  Where  do  you  intend  to  place  the  Widows  ? 


The  Parliament  of  Women  1 19 

Corn.  Well  remembred.  They  shall  have  their  Seats 
in  the  Middle  of  the  Mothers,  if  they  have  Children,  or 
ever  had  any  ;  those  that  have  been  barren,  shall  sit  at 
the  lower  End  of  them. 

Jul.  Well,  but  what  Place  do  you  design  for  the  Wives 
of  Priests  and  Monks  ? 

Corn.  We  will  consider  of  that  Matter  at  our  next 
Meeting. 

Jul.  What  do  you  determine  about  those  Women  who 
get  their  Living  by  their  bodily  Labour? 

Corn.  We  will  not  suffer  this  Assembly  to  be  polluted 
by  the  Mixture  of  such  Cattle. 
Jul.  What  will  you  do  concerning  kept  Mistresses? 

Corn.  They  are  of  several  Ranks  ;  we'll  consider  that 
when  we  are  more  at  Leisure.  There's  another  Matter 
to  be  considered  of,  How  we  shall  give  our  Votes  ; 
whether  by  Scratching  or  Balloting,  or  by  Word  of 
Mouth,  or  Holding  up  our  Hands,  or  by  Dividing. 

Ca.  There  are  Tricks  in  Balloting,  and  so  there  are  in 
Scratching  ;  and  if  we  give  our  Vote  by  Dividing,  as  we 
wear  long  Petticoats,  we  shall  raise  too  much  Dust ;  so 
that  I  am  of  Opinion,  it  will  be  the  best  Way  for  every 
one  to  give  her  Vote  viva  voce. 

Corn.  But  it  will  be  a  difficult  Matter  to  number  the 
Votes.  And  then  too,  great  Care  ought  to  be  taken, 
that  it  be  not  rather  a  Billingsgate  than  a  Senate,  [a 
Place  of  Scolding,  rather  than  a  Place  of  Pleading.] 

Ca.  It  will  be  impossible  to  do  any  Thing  without 
Clerks,  to  take  Care  that  nothing  be  omitted. 

Corn.  Well  then,  we  have  taken  Care  about  number 
ing  ;  in  the  next  Place,  how  shall  we  exclude  scolding  ? 

Ca.  That  no-Body  speak  but  when  she  is  asked,  and 
in  her  Turn  too.  She  that  does  otherwise,  shall  be 
expelled  the  House.  And  if  any  one  shall  be  found  to 
blab  out  what  is  transacted  here,  she  shall  incur  the 
Penalty  of  a  three  Days  Silence. 

Corn.  Well,  Ladies,  so  far  we  have  settled  Matters,  as 


1 20  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

to  the  Method  of  Proceeding  ;  now  let  us  consider  what 
we  shall  debate  about.  In  the  first  Place,  we  ought  to 
take  Care  of  our  Honour  ;  and  that  consists  chiefly  in 
Dress,  which  Matter  has  been  so  neglected,  that  now-a- 
Days  you  can  scarce  know  a  Dutchess  from  a  Shop- 
Keeper's  Wife ;  a  married  Woman  from  a  Maid,  or  a 
Widow  or  a  Matron,  from  a  Whore.  Modesty  is  remov'd 
at  that  Distance,  that  every  one  wears  what  Apparel  she 
pleases.  You  may  see  those,  that  are  scarce  one  Degree 
on  this  Side  Beggars,  and  of  a  base  and  sordid  Extrac 
tion,  dress'd  in  their  Velvets,  Silks,  and  water'd  Tabbies, 
Garden  Sattins,  sprigg'd  Callicoes  and  Chintzes,  in  Gold 
and  Silver,  Sable  Tippets,  etc.  whose  Husbands  in  the 
mean  Time  sit  at  Home  cobbling  Shoes.  Their  Fingers 
are  loaded  with  Emerald  and  Diamond  Rings ;  for 
Pearls  are  now  made  no  Account  of;  not  to  mention 
their  Amber  and  Coral  Necklaces,  their  lac'd  Shoes.  It 
was  formerly  thought  enough  for  your  ordinary  Women, 
to  be  allow'd  the  Privilege  to  wear  a  Silk  Girdle,  and  to 
border  their  Petticoats  with  a  Ribbon,  in  Honour  of  the 
Sex  :  But  now  we  labour  under  a  double  Inconveniency  ; 
the  Family  is  beggar'd,  and  Distinction,  which  is  the 
Life  and  Soul  of  Quality,  is  quite  lost.  If  the  Wives  of 
the  Commonalty  must  be  dragg'd  about  in  gilded 
Chariots,  adorn'd  with  Ivory  Seats,  and  Cotton  Linings 
and  Coach-Seats,  what  shall  Dutchesses  and  Countesses 
do?  And,  if  a  'Squire's  Spouse  shall  be  allow'd  to  drag 
a  Train  after  her  of  15  Ells  long,  what  must  a  Dutchess 
or  a  Countess  do?  But  there  is  one  Thing  that  is  worse 
than  all  this,  that  by  an  unaccountable  Fickleness  we 
are  always  altering  the  Fashion.  Formerly  our  Head- 
Dresses  were  mounted  upon  Wires  ;  and  by  this  Dress 
Women  of  Quality  were  known  from  ordinary  ones. 
Again,  that  the  Difference  might  be  more  visible,  they 
wore  Caps  of  Ermin  powdered  with  black  Spots  :  But 
the  Mob  had  'em  presently.  Then  they  altered  the 
Fashion  again,  and  wore  black  Caps  ;  but  Women  of 


The  Parliament  of  Women  121 

the  ordinary  Sort  did  not  only  presume  to  imitate  them, 
but  out-did  them,  by  adding  Gold  Embroidery  and 
Jewels  to  them.  Formerly  it  was  the  Custom  of  Ladies 
of  Quality,  to  comb  up  their  Hair  from  their  Foreheads 
and  Temples,  and  to  make  a  Tower  of  it ;  but  this  did 
not  last  long  :  for  every  Baggage  soon  fell  into  that 
Fashion.  Then  they  wore  their  Hair  on  their  Fore 
heads  ;  but  in  this  too  they  were  soon  followed  by  the 
ordinary  Sort.  Formerly  none  but  Ladies  of  Quality 
had  their  Gentlemen-Ushers,  and  Pages,  and  out  of 
these  they  chose  some  pretty  smock-fac'd  Fellow  to  take 
them  by  the  Hand,  when  they  arose  from  their  Chairs, 
or  to  support  their  left  Arm  with  his  right,  when  they 
walk'd  ;  but  this  Honour  was  granted  to  none  but 
Gentlemen.  But  now,  Women  in  common  following 
this  Fashion,  admit  any  mean  Persons  to  this  Office, 
and  also  to  bear  up  their  Train  too.  And  whereas 
formerly,  in  primitive  Times,  none  but  Persons  of  high 
Extraction  saluted  one  another  with  a  Kiss,  and  did  not 
permit  every  one  to  kiss  them,  no  not  so  much  as  their 
Hand  ;  now-a-Days  a  Tanner  or  Currier,  that  stinks  of 
the  Leather,  shall  presume  to  kiss  a  Lady  of  the  highest 
Quality.  Nay,  even  in  Marriages,  there  is  no  Regard 
had  to  Honour  :  Noblemen's  Daughters  are  married  to 
Tradesmen's  Sons,  and  Tradesmen's  Daughters  to  Noble 
men  ;  so  that  a  Sort  of  Mongrels  are  brought  into  the 
World.  Nor  is  there  a  Wench  of  ever  so  mean  a  Birth, 
but  would  presume  to  use  the  same  Paints  and  Washes 
that  the  Quality  use  :  when  ordinary  People  ought  to  be 
satisfied  with  a  little  Ale  Yeast,  or  the  Fresh  Juice  of  a 
Tree  that  has  been  barked,  or  any  such  Thing  that  costs 
but  little  :  They  ought  to  leave  the  fine  Paints,  Washes, 
and  Cosmeticks,  to  Women  of  Quality.  To  come  now 
to  publick  Entertainments  and  the  Park,  what  Confusion 
and  Disorder  is  there  !  A  Merchant's  Wife  shall  often 
times  refuse  to  give  Place  to  a  Lady  of  noble  Descent 
both  by  Father  and  Mother :  So  that  the  present 


122  Colloqu  ies  of  Erasm  us 

Posture  of  Affairs  calls  upon  us  to  come  to  some 
Resolution  as  to  these  Matters  :  and  these  Things  may 
be  easily  settled  among  us,  because  they  belong  to  none 
but  our  own  Sex.  But  there  are  also  some  Affairs  that 
we  have  to  settle  with  the  Men  too,  who  exclude  us  from 
all  honourable  Employments,  and  only  make  us  their 
Landresses,  and  their  Cooks ;  while  they  themselves 
manage  every  Thing  according  to  their  own  Pleasure. 
We  will  allow  them  the  Management  of  publick  Offices, 
and  military  Concerns  :  But  is  it  a  sufferable  Thing  that 
the  Wife's  Coat  of  Arms  should  be  painted  on  the  left 
Side  of  the  Escutcheon,  altho'  her  Family  is  twice  as 
honourable  as  that  of  her  Husband's?  And  in  the  last 
Place,  it  is  but  just,  that  a  Mother's  Consent  should  be 
had  in  putting  out  the  Children.  And  it  may  be,  we 
shall  gain  the  Ascendant  so  far,  as  to  take  our  Turns  in 
the  Administration  of  the  publick  Offices  ;  but,  I  mean, 
only  those  that  can  be  managed  at  Home,  and  without 
Arms.  These  are  the  chief  Heads  of  the  Matters,  which, 
in  my  Opinion,  deserve  our  Deliberation.  Let  every 
one  here  deliberate  with  herself  upon  these  Matters,  that 
an  Act  may  be  passed  concerning  every  one  of  them  ; 
and  if  any  one  shall  think  of  any  Thing  else,  that  is 
necessary  to  be  debated,  let  her  communicate  it  to 
Morrow  :  For  we  will  sit  de  die  in  diem  till  we  have 
concluded  the  Session.  Let  us  have  four  Clerks,  that 
may  take  down  our  Speeches  ;  and  two  Chair- Women, 
who  shall  have  the  Power  of  giving  Liberty  to  Speak, 
and  of  enjoining  Silence  :  And  let  this  Meeting  be  a 
Sample  of  what  may  be  expected  hereafter. 


DILUCULUM  :    OR,  THE  EARLY 
RISING 

THE   ARGUMENT 

This  Colloquy  is  a  very  learned  Chastisement  of  Sloth, 
and  an  Incitement  to  honest  Studies.  A  Joke  of  Nasica, 
to  whom  Ennius's  Maid-Servant,  by  her  Master's  Order, 
told  that  he  was  not  at  Home.  Philypnus1  was  fast 
asleep  after  Eight  a  Clock  in  the  Morning,  having  sat 
up  till  Midnight,  feasting,  gaming,  and  talking  merrily. 
Nephalius  persuades  him  to  rise  sooner  in  a  Morning. 
The  Morning  is  the  golden  Part  of  the  Day.  The  Sun 
does  not  shine  for  Men  to  sleep  by  it.  The  Soul  is  rather 
to  be  taken  Care  of  than  the  Body.  The  Life  of  Man  is 
a  Time  of  watching.  It  is  in  our  own  Power  to  lengthen 
out  our  Lives.  It  is  not  wholsome  to  study  presently 
after  Dinner.  We  must  leave  off  an  evil  Habit 

NEPHALIUS  and  PHIL/PNUS 

Ne.  \  wou'd  have  been  glad  to  have  met  with  you 
to  Day,  Philypnus  ;  but  your  Servants  deny'd  that  you 
were  at  Home. 

Ph.  They  did  not  tell  you  altogether  false  ;  I  was  not 
at  Home,  indeed,  to  you  ;  but  I  was  never  more  at  Home 
to  myself. 

Ne.  What  riddle  is  this  ? 

Ph.  You  know  the  old  Proverb,  'I  don't  sleep  to  all  :'  2 
Nor  can  you  forget  that  pleasant  Joke  of  Nasica  ;  to 
whom,  when  he  would  have  visited  his  old  Friend  Ennius, 
the  Maid,  by  her  Master's  Command,  deny'd  him  to  be  at 
Home.  Nasica  perceiv'd  how  Matters  went,  and  departed. 
Afterwards  Ennius,  in  his  Turn,  entering  the  House 
of  Nasica,  asks  the  Boy  whether  his  Master  was  within 


124  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

or  not :  Nasica  cries  aloud  from  an  inner  Room,  saying, 
'  I  am  not  at  Home.'  Ennius,  knowing  his  Voice,  cries, 
'Art  thou  not  an  impudent  Fellow?  Dost  think  I  don't 
know  thee  when  thou  speak'st?'  'Rather  you,'  says 
Nasica,  'are  the  more  impudent,  who  won't  give  Credit 
to  me  myself,  when  I  believ'd  your  Servant.' 

Ne.  Perhaps  you  were  very  busy. 

Ph.  No,  in  Troth,  I  was  most  pleasantly  at  Leisure. 

Ne.  Again  you  perplex  me  with  Riddles. 

Ph.  Why,  then  I  '11  speak  plainly,  and  not  call  any 
Thing  out  of  its  Name. 

Ne.  Say  on. 

Ph.  In  short,  I  was  fast  asleep. 

Ne.  What  say'st  thou  ?  what,  at  past  8  ?  when  the 
Sun  rises  this  Month  before  4. 

Ph.  The  Sun  is  very  welcome  to  rise  at  Midnight,  for 
all  me  ;  truly  I  love  to  sleep  my  Belly-full. 

Ne.  But  was  this  by  Accident,  or  is  it  your  common 
Custom  ? 

Ph.  Why,  truly  I  'm  pretty  much  us'd  to  it. 

Ne.  But  the  Habit  of  Evil  is  most  pernicious. 

Ph.  There's  no  Sleep  so  pleasant  as  after  Sun-rising. 

Ne.  Prithee,  at  what  Hour  do  you  use  to  leave  your 
Bed? 

Ph.  Why,  some  Time  betwixt  Four  and  Nine. 

Ne.  A  very  pretty  Space  of  Time,  truly  !  a  Woman 
of  Quality  is  scarce  so  long  a  dressing.  But  how  came 
you  into  this  agreeable  Method  ? 

Ph.  Because  we  us'd  to  spend  most  Part  of  the  Night 
in  good  Eating  and  Drinking,  Play,  Merriment,  and 
what  not ;  and  this  Expence  we  repair  by  a  good  Sound 
Sleep  in  the  Morning. 

Ne.  I  scarce  ever  saw  a  Prodigal  more  undone  than 
thee. 

Ph.  It  seems  to  me  rather  Parsimony  than  Profuse- 
ness  ;  for  in  the  mean  Time,  I  neither  burn  my  Candles, 
nor  wear  out  my  Cloaths. 


The  Early  Rising  1 2  5 

Ne.  Ridiculous  Parsimony !  to  destroy  Jewels  that 
thou  may'st  preserve  Glass.  The  Philosopher  was  of 
quite  another  Opinion,  who,  being  ask'd  what  was  the 
most  precious  Thing,  reply'd  Time.  Moreover,  when  it 
plainly  appears,  that  the  Morning  is  the  best  Part  of  the 
whole  Day,  you  delight  to  destroy  the  preciousest  Part 
of  the  most  precious  Thing. 

Ph.  Is  that  destroy'd  which  is  giv'n  to  the  Body  ? 

Ne.  'Tis  rather  taking  away  from  the  Body  ;  which  is 
then  best  affected,  most  lusty  and  strong,  when  'tis  re- 
fresh'd  by  timely  and  moderate  Sleep,  and  corroborated 
by  early  Rising. 

Ph.  But  'tis  a  pure  pleasant  Thing  to  sleep. 

Ne.  What  can  be  pleasant  to  him  who  has  no  Sense 
of  any  Thing  ? 

Ph.  Why,  that  alone  is  pleasing,  to  have  no  Sense  of 
Trouble. 

Ne.  At  this  Rate,  those  are  most  happy  who  sleep  in 
their  Graves  ;  for  they  are  never  disturbed  with  trouble 
some  Dreams. 

Ph.  They  say,  the  Body  is  fed  very  much  by 
Sleep. 

Ne.  This  is  the  Food  of  Dormice,  and  not  of  Men. 
The  Beasts,  who  are  made  only  to  eat,  are  cramm'd 
very  fitly  ;  but  how  does  it  relate  to  a  Man  to  heap  up 
Fat,  unless  that  he  may  trudge  on  under  the  greater 
Burden  ?  Tell  me  now,  if  you  had  a  Servant,  wou'd  you 
have  him  fat  and  lumpish,  or  gay  and  sprightly,  apt  for 
any  Employment  ? 

Ph.  But  I  am  no  Servant. 

Ne.  No  Matter  ;  'tis  enough  for  me,  that  you  had 
rather  have  one  alert,  and  fit  for  Business,  than  a  Fellow 
stoutly  cramm'd. 

Ph.  Certainly  I  wou'd. 

Ne.  Now,  Plato  says,  'The  Mind  of  a  Man  is  the 
Man  ;  the  Body  nothing  more  than  the  Mansion  or 
Instrument.'  You'll  certainly  confess,  I  suppose,  the 


1 26  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Soul  to  be  the  principal  Part  of  a  Man  ;  the  Body,  only 
the  Attendant  of  the  Mind. 

Ph.  Be  it  so,  if  you  will. 

Ne.  Since  then  thou  wou'dst  not  have  a  Belly-Gut  for 
thy  Servant,  but  rather  one  brisk  and  agile  ;  why  then 
dost  thou  provide  for  thy  Mind  a  Minister  fat  and  un 
wieldy  ? 

Ph.  I  yield  to  Truth. 

Ne.  Now  see  another  Misfortune.  As  the  Mind  far 
excels  the  Body  ;  so  you'll  confess,  that  the  Riches  of 
the  Mind  far  exceed  the  Goods  of  the  Body. 

Ph.  What  you  say  is  very  probable. 

Ne.  But  amongst  all  the  Goods  of  the  Mind,  Wisdom 
holds  the  chief  Place. 

Ph.  I  confess  it. 

Ne.  For  obtaining  this,  no  Time  is  more  fit  than  the 
Morning,  when  the  new-rising  Sun  gives  fresh  Vigour 
and  Life  to  all  Things,  and  dispels  those  Fumes  which 
are  exhaled  from  the  Stomach  ;  which  are  wont  to  cloud 
the  Mansion  of  the  Mind. 

Ph.  I  don't  deny  it. 

Ne.  Now,  do  but  consider  what  a  Share  of  Learning 
you  might  obtain  in  those  four  Hours  which  you  con 
sume  in  unseasonable  Sleep. 

Ph.  Truly,  a  great  Share  ! 

Ne.  I  have  experienc'd  that  more  may  be  done  at 
Study  in  one  Hour  in  the  Morning,  than  in  three  after 
Noon  ;  and  that  without  any  Detriment  to  the  Body. 

Ph.  I  have  heard  as  much. 

Ne.  Consider  this  further  :  If  you  should  bring  into  a 
gross  Sum  the  Loss  of  each  particular  Day,  what  a  vast 
Deal  would  it  amount  to  ! 

Ph.  A  great  Deal  indeed  ! 

Ne.  He  who  heedlessly  confounds  Money  and  Jewels, 
is  deem'd  a  Prodigal,  and  has  a  Guardian  appointed 
him :  Now,  he  who  destroys  these  so  much  more 
precious  Goods,  is  not  he  a  Prodigal  of  a  far  deeper  Dye? 


The  Early  Rising  1 27 

Ph.  Certainly  'tis  so,  if  we  rightly  weigh  the 
Matter. 

Ne.  Consider  further  what  Plato  writes,  'That  there 
is  nothing  fairer,  nothing  more  amiable  than  Wisdom  ; 
which,  if  it  could  be  seen  by  corporeal  Eyes,  would  raise 
to  itself  an  incredible  Number  of  Admirers.' 

Ph.  But  she  is  not  capable  of  being  seen. 

Ne.  I  own  she  is  not,  with  corporeal  Eyes  ;  but  she 
is  to  be  seen  with  the  Eyes  of  the  Mind,  which  is  the 
better  Part  of  Man.  And  where  the  Love  is  incredible, 
there  must  necessarily  be  the  highest  Pleasure,  as  often 
as  the  Mind  enjoys  so  pleasing  a  Mistress. 

Ph.  What  you  say  is  very  probable. 

Ne.  Go  now,  if  you  think  good,  and  barter  this  Enjoy 
ment  for  Sleep,  that  Image  of  Death. 

Ph.  But  in  the  mean  Time  I  lose  my  dear  nocturnal 
Sports. 

Ne.  Those  Things  are  well  lost,  which  being  worst 
are  changed  for  the  best,  shameful  for  honourable,  most 
vile  for  the  most  precious.  He  has  happily  lost  his 
Lead  who  has  changed  it  into  Gold.  Nature  has  ap 
pointed  the  Night  for  Sleep  ;  the  Sun  arising  recalls  all 
the  animal  Species,  and  especially  Men,  to  their  several 
Offices.  '  They  who  sleep,'  (saith  St.  Paul)  '  sleep  in  the 
Night,  and  they  who  are  drunken,  are  drunken  in  the 
Night.'  Therefore,  what  can  be  more  unseemly,  than, 
when  all  Animals  rouze  with  the  Sun,  nay,  some  even 
before  his  Appearance,  and  as  it  were  with  a  Song  salute 
his  coming  ;  when  the  Elephant  adores  the  rising  Sun  ; 
Man  only  shou'd  lie  snoring  long  after  his  Rising.  As 
often  as  his  golden  Rays  enlighten  thy  Chamber,  does 
he  not  seem  thus  to  upbraid  thee,  as  thou  liest  sleeping  ? 
'  Fool !  why  dost  thou  delight  to  destroy  the  best  Part 
of  thy  Life  ?  I  shine  not  for  this  Purpose,  that  you  may 
hide  yourselves  and  sleep ;  but  that  you  may  attend 
your  honest  Employments.'  No  Man  lights  a  Lamp  to 
sleep  by,  but  that  he  may  pursue  some  Sort  of  Labour  ; 


1 28  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

and  by  this  Lamp,  the  fairest,  the  most  refulgent  of  all 
Lamps,  wretched  Thou  dost  nothing  but  snore. 

Ph.  You  declaim  smartly. 

Ne.  Not  smartly,  but  truly.  Come  on,  you  have  often 
heard  that  of  Hesiod,  "Tis  too  late  to  spare  when  all  is 
spent.'3 

Ph.  Very  frequently  ;  for  in  the  Middle  of  the  Pipe, 
the  Wine  is  best. 

Ne.  But  in  Life  the  first  Part,  that  is  to  say,  Youth  is 
best. 

Ph.  Verily,  so  it  is. 

Ne.  And  the  Morning  is  the  same  to  the  Day,  as 
Youth  is  to  Life.  Do  not  they  then  act  foolishly,  who 
spend  their  Youth  in  Trifles,  and  their  Morning  Hours 
in  Sleep? 

Ph.  So  it  appears. 

Ne.  Is  there  any  Possession  which  may  be  compared 
with  a  Man's  Life  ? 

Ph.  No,  not  the  whole  Persian  Treasure. 

Ne.  Wou'dst  thou  not  vehemently  hate  the  Man,  that 
by  evil  Arts  cou'd  and  wou'd  curtail  thy  Years,  and 
shorten  thy  Thread  of  Life  ? 

Ph.  I  'd  rather  do  my  Endeavour  to  destroy  his  Life. 

Ne.  But  I  deem  those  far  worse,  and  more  guilty, 
who  voluntarily  render  their  own  Lives  shorter. 

Ph.  I  confess  it,  if  any  such  are  to  be  found. 

Ne.  To  be  found  !  'Tis  what  all,  who  are  like  thee, 
do. 

Ph.  Good  Words,  Man. 

Ne.  The  best.  Thus  consider  with  your  own  Self, 
whether  Pliny  has  spoken  justly  or  not,  when  he  says, 
'  All  Life  is  one  continued  Watching,4  and  he  lives  most, 
who  employs  the  greatest  Part  of  his  Time  in  Study?' 
For  Sleep  is  a  Kind  of  Death  ;  therefore  the  Poets  feign 
it  to  come  from  the  infernal  Shades  ;  and  it  is  call'd  by 
Homer,  the  '  Cousin-German  of  Death'  ;6  and  so,  those 
who  sleep  can  scarce  be  number'd  either  amongst  the 


The  Early  Rising  129 

Dead  or  Living ;  but  of  the  two,  they  seem  most  pro 
perly  nam'd  amongst  the  Dead. 

Ph.  I  am  intirely  of  your  Opinion. 

Ne.  Now  tell  me  fairly,  how  much  of  Life  do  they  cut 
off,  who  every  Day  destroy  three  or  four  Hours  in 
Sleep  ? 

Ph.  Truly,  a  vast  Deal. 

Ne.  Would  not  you  esteem  him  as  a  God,  if  there 
were  an  Alchymist,  who  cou'd  find  a  Way  to  add  ten 
Years  to  the  Length  of  your  Life,  and  when  you  are 
advanc'd  in  Years,  reduce  you  to  Youth  and  Vigour  ? 

Ph.  Ay,  why  should  I  not  ? 

Ne.  And  this  so  divine  Blessing,  thou  may'st  obtain 
from  thy  own  Self. 

Ph.  Which  Way  ? 

Ne.  Because  the  Morning  is  the  vigorous  Youth  of 
the  Day  ;  this  Youth  flourishes  till  Noon  ;  the  Evening 
succeeds  by  the  Name  of  Old-Age  ;  and  call  Sun-set 
the  Article  of  Death.  'Frugality  is  a  handsome  In 
come,'  °  and  never  more  necessary  than  in  this  Case. 
Now,  has  he  not  been  a  great  Gainer,  who  has  avoided 
losing  the  greatest  and  best  Part  of  Life  ? 

Ph.  All  these  Things  are  too  true. 

Ne.  How  intolerably  impudent  then  must  they  seem, 
who  accuse  Nature,  and  complain  that  the  Life  of  Man 
is  short  and  little,  when  they  themselves  voluntarily  cut 
off  so  great  a  Part  of  that  little  which  Nature  gave  ? 
Life  is  long  enough,  if  Men  would  but  use  it  prudently. 
Nor  has  he  made  a  small  Progress,  who  knows  how  to 
do  every  Thing  in  Season.  After  Dinner,  we  are  scarce 
half  Men,  when  the  Body  loaded  with  Meats,  burdens 
and  oppresses  the  Mind  ;  nor  is  it  safe  to  excite,  or 
draw  up  the  Spirits  from  Nature's  Kitchen,  the  Stomach, 
where  they  are  employ'd  in  the  Business  of  Concoction. 
After  Supper,  much  less.  But  in  the  Morning  a  Man  is 
effectually,  and  all  a  Man,  when  his  Body  is  apt  and  fit 
for  every  Employment  ;  when  the  Soul  is  active,  and  in 

VOL.  III.  I 


1 30  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

full  Force  ;  and  all  the  Organs  of  the  Mind  serene,  and 
in  Tranquillity  ;  whilst  it  breathes  a  Part  of  that  divine 
Flatus  (as  one  says),  has  a  Relish  of  its  great  Original, 
and  is  rapt,  or  hurried  on  to  commendable  Actions. 

Ph.  Truly,  you  harangue  very  elegantly. 

Ne.  Agamemnon,  in  Homer,  tells  us,  "Tis  unbecom 
ing  a  Man  of  Counsel  to  sleep  the  whole  Night.'7  How 
much  greater  then  the  Fault,  to  spend  so  much  of  the 
Day  in  Sleep  ? 

Ph.  True  ;  but  this  has  Respect  to  a  Man  of  Counsel. 
I  am  no  General  of  an  Army. 

Ne.  If  there  is  any  Thing  more  dear  to  you  than 
yourself,  don't  be  mov'd,  or  affected  by  this  Opinion  of 
Homer.  A  Brasier  will  rise  before  'tis  Light,  only  in 
Hopes  of  some  poor  Advantage.  And  has  not  the  Love 
of  Wisdom  Power  to  rouze  and  stir  us  up,  that  we  may 
at  least  hear  the  approaching  Sun  calling  us  forth  to 
Profit  inestimable  ?  Physicians  rarely  give  Physick  but 
in  the  Morning.  They  know  the  Golden  Hours,  in 
which  they  may  assist  the  Body ;  and  shall  we  be 
ignorant  of  those  precious  Hours,  in  which  we  may  heal 
and  enrich  the  Mind  ?  Now,  if  these  Things  are  of 
small  Weight  with  you,  hear  what  Solomon  says. 
Wisdom,  heavenly  Wisdom  herself  speaks,  '  They  who 
seek  me  early,  shall  find  me.'  So  in  the  holy  Psalms 
what  Praise  and  Commendation  is  there  of  the  Morning 
Seasons.  In  the  Morning  the  Prophet  extols  the  Mercy 
of  the  Lord ;  in  the  Morning  his  Voice  is  heard  ;  his 
Prayers  come  before  God  in  the  Morning.  And, 
according  to  Luke  the  Evangelist, '  The  People,'  seeking 
from  the  Lord  Cure  and  Instruction,  '  flock'd  together 
to  him  early  in  the  Morning.'  Why  dost  thou  sigh, 
Philypnus  ? 

Ph.  I  can  scarce  refrain  weeping,  when  I  consider 
what  a  Waste  I  have  made  of  Life. 

Ne.  'Tis  all  in  Vain  to  torment  yourself  about  those 
Things  which  cannot  be  recall'd,  but  may  nevertheless 


The  Early  Rising  131 

be  repair'd  in  Time  to  come.  Apply  yourself  to  this  ; 
rather  than  in  vainly  deploring  what  is  past,  lose  also 
some  Part  of  the  future. 

Ph.  You  advise  well.  But  long  Habit  has  intirely 
overcome  me. 

Ne.  Phy  !  One  Nail  drives  out  another  ;  and  Custom 
is  overcome  by  Custom. 

Ph.  But  'tis  difficult  to  forego  those  Things  to  which 
we  have  been  long  accustom'd. 

Ne.  In  the  Beginning,  I  grant ;  but  a  different  Habit 
first  lessens  the  Uneasiness,  anon  changes  it  into  the 
highest  Pleasure  ;  so  that  it  won't  repent  you  to  have 
undergone  a  short  Discipline. 

Ph.  I  am  afraid  'twill  never  succeed. 

Ne.  Why,  truly,  if  you  were  seventy  Years  of  Age,  I 
would  not  attempt  to  draw  you  from  your  wonted 
Course  ;  but,  if  I  guess  right,  you  are  scarce  seventeen  ; 
and  what  is  there  that  that  Age  is  not  able  to  overcome, 
if  there  be  but  a  willing  Mind  ? 

Ph.  I  will  attempt  it,  and  endeavour  of  a  Philypnus 
to  be  made  a  Philologus,  of  a  Lover  of  Sleep,  a  Lover 
of  Learning. 

Ne.  If  you  do  this,  my  Philypnus,  I  am  very  well 
satisfied,  after  a  few  Days,  you  will  congratulate  your 
self,  and  give  me  Thanks  who  advis'd  you. 


THE  SOBER  FEAST 

THE    ARGUMENT 

The  Sober  Feast  produces  Symbols  (Motto's,  Devices) 
learned  Arguments,  and  other  curious  Things.  The 
Patience  of  Phocion.  The  Justice  of  Aristides,  who  was 
forced  away  (from  his  own  Country)  by  the  Ostracism  : 
His  great  Patience.  Socrates,  a  very  patient  Man.  The 
Way  of  overcoming  Injuries.  The  Patience  of  Cato. 
I  low  Diogenes  avenged  himself  upon  an  Enemy.  The 
Saying  of  Phocion,  when  he  had  defended  a  wicked  Man 
by  his  Patrociny.  Demochares,  the  Nephew  of  Demos 
thenes,  treats  Philip  of  Macedon  unhandsomly.  The  Way 
of  getting  a  good  Name.  The  witty  Answer  of  a  certain 
Laconian  Damsel,  when  she  was  selling  in  an  Auction. 
The  Moderation  of  Philip  of  Macedon,  when  three  great 
Felicities  befel  him  upon  one  and  the  same  Day 

ALBERT,    BARTHOLINE,    CHARLES,    DENNIS, 

&MILIUS,  FRANCIS,  GYR  ALDUS,  JEROM, 

JAMES,  LAURENCE 

Al.  Did  you  ever,  in  your  Life,  see  any  Thing  more 
pleasant  than  this  Garden  ? 

Ba.  I  scarce  think  that  there  is  a  pleasanter  Spot  of 
Ground  in  all  the  Fortunate  Islands. 

Ch.  I  can't  but  fancy  myself  viewing  that  Paradise 
that  God  plac'd  Adam  in. 

Den.  Even  a  Nestor  or  a  Priamus  might  grow  young 
again,  if  they  were  here. 

Fr.  Nay,  if  a  Man  was  dead,  it  would  fetch  him  to 
Life  again. 

Gy.  If  it  was  possible  I  would  add  to  your  Hyperbole. 


The  Sober  Feast  133 

Jer.    Upon    my   Word,   all   Things    look   wonderful 
Pleasant. 

Ja.  In  short,  this  Garden  ought  to  be  dedicated  with 
a  drinking  Match. 

La.  Our  James  speaks  much  to  the  Purpose. 

Al.  This  Place  has  been  formerly  initiated  with  such 
Ceremonies.  But  I  would  have  you  observe  by  the  Way, 
that  I  have  nothing  here  to  make  you  a  Dinner,  except 
you'll  be  content  with  a  Collation  without  Wine.  I'll 
treat  you  with  Lettuces  without  either  Salt,  Vinegar,  or 
Oil ;  here's  not  a  Drop  of  Wine,  but  what  flows  out  of 
this  Fountain.  I  have  here  neither  Bread  (to  eat  with 
the  Sallad)  nor  Cup  (to  drink  out  of).  And  the  Season 
of  the  Year  is  such,  that  it  is  more  proper  for  feeding 
the  Eyes  than  the  Belly. 

Ba.  But  I  suppose  you  have  gotten  playing  Tables, 
or  Bowls,  we'll  dedicate  the  Garden  with  Playing,  if  we 
can't  with  Feasting. 

Al.  Since  there  is  such  a  Set  of  jolly  Fellows  of 
us  met  together,  I  have  something  to  propose,  as 
to  the  Consecration  of  the  Garden,  that,  I  am  of 
Opinion,  you'll  confess  is  far  before  either  Gaming 
or  Banqueting. 

Ch.  What 's  that  ? 

Al.  Let  every  one  furnish  his  Quota,  and  I  dare 
engage  we  shall  have  a  noble  and  delicate  Feast. 

AL.IH.  What  can  we  furnish,  that  are  come  hither 
unprovided? 

Al.  Unprovided,  who  have  your  Intellectuals  so  well 
furnished  ! 

Fr.  We  long  to  hear  what  we  would  be  at. 

Al.  Let  every  one  produce  the  neatest  Observation, 
that  his  Week's  Reading  has  furnished  him  with. 

Gy.  Very  well  proposed  ;  nothing  can  be  more  agree 
able  to  such  Guests,  such  an  Entertainment,  and  such  a 
Place.  Do  you  begin,  we  '11  all  follow  you. 

Al.  If  you  agree   to   it,    I    won't   stick   out.     I    was 


134  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

mightily  pleased  to  Day  to  find  so  Christian-like  a 
Sentence  in  a  Man  who  was  no  Christian  ;  it  was  that 
of  Phocion,  a  Man,  than  whom  there  was  not  a  more 
divine  one,  nor  more  regardful  of  the  publick  Utility  in 
all  Athens.  When  he  had  been  invidiously  sentenc'd 
to  Death,  and  was  about  to  drink  his  Poison,  being  ask'd 
by  his  Friends,  what  Message  he  had  to  send  to  his 
Children  ;  he  answered,  he  only  requir'd  of  them,  that 
they  would  ever  banish  this  Injury  out  of  their 
Memories. 

Ba.  You  will  scarce  find  an  Example  of  such  notable 
Patience  amongst  either  the  Dominicans  or  Franciscans. 
And  I  '11  present  you  with  one  Instance  that  is  something 
like  this,  tho'  it  does  not  come  up  to  it.  Aristides  was 
very  like  Phocion  for  Integrity,  so  that  the  common 
People  gave  him  the  Surname  of  the  Just  ;  which  Ap 
pellation  raised  him  so  much  Envy,  that  this  good  Man, 
that  deserv'd  so  well  of  the  Common-Wealth,  was 
banish'd  for  ten  Years  from  his  native  Country. 
When  he  understood  that  the  People  was  offended  at 
nothing  but  that  Appellation,  tho'  that  had  always  been 
to  their  Advantage,  he  patiently  submitted.  Being  in 
Banishment,  his  Friends  asking  him  what  Punishment 
he  wish'd  to  the  ungrateful  City,  he  reply'd, '  I  wish  them 
nothing,  but  so  much  Prosperity,  that  they  may  never 
once  remember  Aristides.' 

Ch.  I  wonder  that  Christians  are  not  asham'd  of 
themselves,  that  are  in  a  Rage  upon  the  Occasion  of 
every  trifling  Affront,  and  will  have  Revenge,  cost  it 
what  it  will.  The  whole  Life  of  Socrates,  in  my  Opinion, 
is  but  one  continued  Example  of  Temperance  and 
Patience.  And  that  I  may  not  be  scot-free,  I  '11  mention 
one  Instance  that  pleases  me  above  the  rest.  As  he  was 
going  along  the  King's  Highway,  a  saucy  Fellow  hit  him 
a  Slap  on  the  Face  ;  Socrates  said  nothing  to  him,  but 
his  Friends  that  were  with  him,  advised  him  to  be  re- 
veng'd  on  him.  To  which  he  reply'd,  'What  would  you 


The  Sober  Feast  135 

have  me  do  to  him?'  They  reply'd,  'Arrest  him  in  an 
Action  of  Assault  and  Battery.'  'A  foolish  Story  in 
deed,'  says  he  ;  '  What,'  says  he,  '  suppose  an  Ass  had 
given  me  a  Kick,  must  I  sue  him  upon  the  same  Action, 
and  subpoena  you  for  Evidences  of  the  Injury  offered?' 
intimating,  that  that  saucy  Fellow  was  no  better  than 
an  Ass  ;  and  that  it  was  the  part  of  a  mean  Soul,  not  to 
be  able  to  bear  such  an  Affront  from  a  Numb'd-Skull,  as 
he  would  from  a  brute  Animal. 

Den.  The  Roman  History  is  not  so  well  stored  with 
Instances  of  Moderation,  nor  so  remarkable  ;  for  in  my 
Opinion,  he  does  not  deserve  the  Praise  of  Moderation, 
that  strenuously  labours  to  bring  haughty  Persons  under 
Subjection,  and  then  spares  them  when  they  are  in  his 
Power  :  But  yet  I  think  it  deserves  to  be  related,  what 
Cato  the  Elder  said,  when  Lentulus  spit  in  his  Face,  and 
threw  Snot  in  it.  He  said  nothing  to  him  but  this,  'Here 
after  I  shall  have  an  Answer  ready  for  them  that  shall 
say,  you  are  a  Man  that  have  no  Mouth  (Os},'  for  the 
Latins  us'd  to  say,  that  he  that  has  no  Shame  in  him, 
has  no  Os ;  so  that  the  Joke  depends  upon  the  double 
Meaning  of  Os  (which  signifies  the  Mouth  and  the 
Countenance). 

ALni.  One  Man  is  pleas'd  with  one  Thing,  and 
another  with  another.  But  among  Diogenes's  Sayings, 
which  are  all  excellent  ones,  none  charms  me  more  than 
the  Answer  he  made  to  one  that  ask'd  him,  '  What  was 
the  best  Way  to  be  revenged  on  an  Enemy?'  Says  he, 
'  By  approving  yourself  an  honest  good  Man.'  I  can't 
but  admire  how  so  divine  a  Thought  could  ever  come 
into  his  Mind.  And,  methinks,  the  Saying  of  Aristotle 
is  agreeable  to  St.  Paul's  Notion  ;  who  being  ask'd  by 
a  certain  Person,  'What  advantage  his  Philosophy 
afforded  him,'  answered  him,  'That  by  Reason  of  it,  he 
did  those  Things  voluntarily,  which  other  Persons  did 
by  Constraint,  and  for  Fear  of  the  Law  : '  For  St.  Paul 
teaches,  that  those  that  are  endued  with  the  Love  of 


1 36  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Christ,  are  not  under  the  Subjection  of  the  Law,  in  that 
they  do  more  of  their  own  Accord,  than  the  Law  can 
influence  them  to  do  for  Fear  of  Punishment. 

Fr.  Our  Saviour,  when  the  Jews  murmured  against 
him,  because  he  had  Communion  at  the  Table  with 
Publicans  and  Sinners,  answered  them,  '  The  whole  have 
not  need  of  a  Physician,  but  those  that  are  sick.'  That 
which  Phocion  in  Plutarch  wittily  answer'd,  when  he 
was  reprehended  because  he  had  patronized  a  Person 
infamous,  and  of  an  ill  Character,  is  not  very  different 
from  this  :  '  Why  should  I  not,'  says  he,  '  when  no  good 
Man  stands  in  Need  of  such  a  Patronage?' 

Gy.  That  is  a  Pattern  of  Christian  Goodness,  and 
according  to  the  Example  of  God  himself,  to  do  Good 
both  to  good  and  bad,  as  much  as  may  be ;  '  For  he 
causes  his  Sun  to  shine  upon  the  just  and  unjust.'  And 
perhaps  an  Example  of  Moderation  in  a  King  will  be 
more  admirable.  When  Demochares,  the  Nephew  of 
Demosthenes,  was  sent  Ambassador  to  Philip  King  of 
Macedon  ;  and  having  obtain'd  of  him  what  he  desired, 
being  about  to  have  his  Audience  of  Leave,  was 
courteously  ask'd  by  the  King,  if  there  was  any  Thing 
else  he  requested  of  him;  he  answered,  'Yes,  that  he 
would  hang  himself.'  This  unhandsome  Answer  was  an 
Argument  of  Hatred  :  He  to  whom  this  Affront  was 
offered  was  a  King,  and  a  worthy  one  too ;  but  for  all 
that,  he  did  not  fall  into  a  Passion,  but  only  turning  to 
the  Ambassador's  Retinue,  said,  '  Do  you  report  this  to 
the  People  of  Athens,  and  then  let  them  judge,  which 
has  the  greater  Soul  of  the  two,  I  who  heard  this 
patiently,  or  he  who  spoke  it  saucily.'  Where  are  now 
our  Monarchs,  who  think  themselves  equal  to  the  Gods 
themselves  ;  and  for  a  single  Word  spoken  over  a  Glass 
of  Wine,  will  immediately  wage  War? 

Jer.  The  Thirst  of  Glory  is  very  impetuous,  and  many 
are  carry'd  away  by  the  Violence  of  it.  One  of  that 
Number  put  the  Question  to  Socrates,  Which  was  the 


The  Sober  Feast  137 

shortest  Way  to  get  a  good  Reputation  ?  To  whom  he 
answer'd,  '  If  you  shall  behave  yourself  like  such  an  one 
as  you  would  be  accounted  to  be.' 

Ja.  In  Troth  I  don't  know  what  could  be  said  more 
concisely  and  to  the  Purpose.  A  good  Name  is  not  to 
be  obtain'd  by  wishing  for,  but  is  a  Concomitant  of 
Virtue,  as  Infamy  is  of  Improbity.  You  have  been 
admiring  of  Men  ;  but  the  Laconian  Maid  charm'd  me, 
who  being  to  be  sold  at  a  Sale,  the  Person  who  was  to 
buy  her,  came  to  her,  and  ask'd  her,  '  If  I  buy  you,  will 
you  be  honest?'  She  answered,  '  Yes,  I  will,  whether 
you  buy  me  or  not  ; '  intimating,  that  she  retain'd  an 
Affection  to  Honesty,  not  upon  the  Account  of  any  other 
Person,  but  was  honest  of  her  own  Inclination,  and 
upon  this  Notion,  that  Virtue  was  its  own  Reward. 

La.  A  very  manly  Saying,  indeed,  for  a  Maid  !  But 
after  all,  this,  in  my  Opinion,  is  an  Example  of  Con 
stancy  against  Fortune,  flattering  to  the  utmost  Degree  ; 
That  when  three  extraordinary  Felicities  were  related  to 
Philip  of  Macedon  on  the  same  Day  ;  That  he  had  won 
the  Prize  in  the  Olympic  Games,  that  his  General 
Parmenio  had  overcome  the  Dardans  in  a  Battle,  and 
that  his  Wife  Olympia  was  brought  to  Bed  of  a  Son  ; 
lifting  his  Hands  up  to  Heaven,  he  pray'd  that  God 
would  be  pleas'd  that  so  mighty  a  Prosperity  might  be 
expiated  by  a  small  Adversity. 

Al.  Now-a-Days  there  is  no  Prosperity  so  great,  that 
any  one  fears  the  Invidiousness  of  Fortune  ;  but  is  so 
puffed  up,  if  any  good  Luck  happens  to  him,  as  if 
Nemesis  were  either  dead,  or  at  least  deaf.  Well,  if  you 
like  this  Dinner,  this  Garden  shall  entertain  you  as 
often  as  you  will,  since  you  have  consecrated  it  with 
this  Conversation,  that  is  no  less  pleasant  than  pro 
fitable. 

Ba.  In  short,  Apitius  himself  could  not  have  furnish'd 
a  more  dainty  Entertainment  ;  so  that  if  you  like  what 
we  have  brought,  you  may  depend  upon  our  Company 


1 38  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

often,  which  Things  indeed  are  not  worth  your  hearing, 
but  are  such  as  came  into  our  Minds  without  any  Pre 
meditation  :  But  when  we  have  Time  to  think  before- 
Hand,  we'll  afford  you  something  more  exquisite. 
Al.  You  shall  be  so  much  the  more  welcome. 


THE  NOTABLE  ART1 

THE   ARGUMENT 

Ars  notoria  derides  the  vain  Boastingness  of  a  bold 
Pretence  of  a  certain  Book,  promising  the  Knowledge  of 
Languages  and  Science  in  fourteen  Days  Time.  A  good 
Apprehension  and  Method  is  the  most  compendious  Way 
to  attain  Arts,  (i.)  To  love  Studies.  (2.)  To  admire 
them.  (3.)  To  take  Notice  when  Honour  is  done  to  Men 
of  Learning.  Those  that  have  not  a  retentive  Memory, 
must  follow  their  Studies  the  more  closely,  (i.)  Let  it  be 
your  first  Care  thoroughly  to  apprehend  the  Matter.  (2. ) 
To  repeat  it  over  with  yourself.  (3.)  To  render  the  Mind 
tame,  that  it  may  dwell  upon  Thought ;  for  a  fickle  Mind 
is  unfit  for  Literature.  (4.)  To  keep  Company  with 
learned  Men.  In  a  Word,  Care,  Love,  and  Assiduity  are 
the  best  Arts  of  helping  the  Memory 

DESIDERIUS,  ERASMIUS 

De.  How  do  you  succeed  in  your  Studies,  Erasmius  ? 

Er.  But  very  slowly  ;  but  I  should  make  a  better 
Proficiency,  if  I  could  obtain  one  Thing  of  you. 

De.  You  may  obtain  any  Thing  of  me,  provided  it  be 
for  your  Good  ;  do  but  tell  me  what  it  is. 

Er.  I  believe  there  is  nothing  of  the  most  hidden 
Arts,  but  what  you  are  acquainted  with. 

De.  I  wish  I  were. 

Er.  I  am  told  there  is  a  certain  compendious  Art, 
that  will  help  a  Man  to  accomplish  himself  with  all  the 
liberal  Sciences  by  a  very  little  Labour. 

De.  What  is  that  you  talk  of?  Did  you  ever  see  the 
Book? 

Er.  I  did  see  it,  and  that  was  all,  having  no  Body  to 
instruct  me  in  the  Use  of  it. 


140  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

De.  What  was  the  Subject  of  the  Book? 

Er.  It  treated  of  various  Forms  of  Dragons,  Lions, 
Leopards  ;  more  and  various  Circles,  and  Words  written 
in  them,  some  in  Greek,  some  in  Latin,  and  some  in 
Hebrew,  and  other  barbarous  Languages. 

De.  Pray,  in  how  many  Days  Time  did  the  Title- 
Page  promise  you  the  Knowledge  of  the  Arts  and 
Sciences? 

Er.  In  fourteen. 

De.  In  Truth  a  very  noble  Promise.  But  did  you 
ever  know  any  Body  that  has  become  learned  by  that 
notable  Art  ? 

Er.  No. 

De.  No,  nor  no  Body  ever  did,  or  ever  will,  till  we  can 
see  an  Alchymist  grow  rich. 

Er.  Why,  is  there  no  such  Art  then  ?  I  wish  with  all 
my  Heart  there  was. 

De.  Perhaps  you  do,  because  you  would  not  be  at  the 
Pains  which  is  requir'd  to  become  learned. 

Er.  You  are  right. 

De.  It  seem'd  meet  to  the  divine  Being,  that  the 
common  Riches,  Gold,  Jewels,  Silver,  Palaces,  and  King 
doms,  should  be  bestow'd  on  the  slothful  and  undeserv 
ing  ;  but  the  true  Riches,  and  such  as  are  properly  our 
own,  must  be  gotten  by  Labour.  Nor  ought  we  to  think 
that  Labour  troublesome,  by  which  so  valuable  a  Thing 
is  procured  ;  when  we  see  a  great  many  Men  run  thro' 
dreadful  Dangers,  and  work  their  Way  thro'  unimagin 
able  Labours,  to  get  temporary  Things,  and  such  as  are 
really  vile  too,  if  compar'd  to  Learning  ;  and  do  not 
always  attain  what  they  strive  for  neither.  But  indeed 
the  Pains  that  Studies  cost,  are  mingled  with  a  great 
Deal  of  Sweetness,  if  you  make  but  a  little  Proficiency 
in  'em.  And  again,  it  is  for  the  most  Part  in  your  own 
Power  to  cut  off  the  greatest  Part  of  the  Tiresomness 
of  attaining  them. 

Er.  How  is  that  to  be  done  ? 


The  Notable  Art  141 

De.  In  the  first  Place,  by  bringing  your  Mind  to  the 
Love  of  Studies.  And  secondly  to  admire  'em. 

Er.  How  must  that  be  done  ? 

De.  Consider  how  many  Learning  has  enrich'd,  how 
many  it  has  promoted  to  the  highest  Honours  :  Then 
again,  consider  with  yourself,  how  great  the  Difference 
is  between  a  Man  and  a  Beast. 

Er.  You  give  very  good  Advice. 

De.  Then  you  ought  to  tame,  and  bring  your  Mind  to 
be  consistent  with  itself;  and  to  take  Pleasure  in  those 
Things  that  bring  Profit  rather  than  Pleasure.  For 
those  Things  that  are  honourable  in  themselves,  altho' 
they  are  something  troublesome  in  the  Beginning,  yet 
they  grow  pleasant  by  Use  ;  and  by  that  Means  you 
will  give  the  Master  less  Trouble,  and  you  will  more 
easily  make  a  Progress  ;  according  to  the  Saying  of 
Isocrates,  which  deserves  to  be  written  in  Gold  Letters 
on  the  Cover  of  your  Book  ;  'Eai>  TJS  <t>t\op.adr)s  eo-j; 
Tro\vp,a6r)s,  '  If  thou  be  desirous  to  learn,  thou  shalt 
learn  many  Things  well.' 

Er.  I  am  quick  enough  at  Apprehension,  but  I 
presently  forget  what  I  have  learned. 

De.  Then  you  tell  me  your  Vessel  is  leaky. 

Er.  You  're  much  about  the  Matter ;  but  what  Remedy 
is  there  for  it  ? 

De.  Why,  you  must  stop  the  Chinks  that  it  don't  run 
out. 

Er.  What  must  I  stop  'em  with  ? 

De.  Not  with  Moss,  nor  Mortar,  but  with  Diligence. 
He  that  learns  Words,  and  does  not  understand  the 
Meaning  of  'em,  soon  forgets  'em  :  For  Words,  as 
Homer  says,  have  Wings,  and  easily  fly  away,2  unless 
they  be  kept  down  by  the  Weight  of  the  Meaning. 
Therefore  let  it  be  your  first  Care  thoroughly  to  under 
stand  the  Meaning  of  them,  and  then  frequently  revolve 
them  in  your  Mind,  and  repeat  them  ;  and  then,  as  I 
have  said,  you  ought  to  break  your  Mind,  that  it  may 


142  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

be  able  to  use  Application  as  often  as  is  necessary  ;  for 
that  Mind  that  is  so  wild,  that  it  can't  be  brought  to 
this,  is  not  fit  for  Learning. 

Er.  I  know  too  well  how  hard  a  Matter  that  is. 

De.  Whosoever  has  so  voluble  a  Mind,  that  it  cannot 
fix  itself  upon  any  Thought,  he  neither  can  attend  long 
on  the  Person  teaching,  nor  fix  what  he  has  learn'd 
in  the  Memory.  An  Impression  may  be  made  even 
upon  Lead,  because  it  is  fixed  ;  but  no  Impression  can 
be  set  upon  Water  or  Quicksilver,  because  they  are 
fluid.  But  if  you  can  but  bring  your  Mind  to  this,  if 
you  converse  constantly  with  Men  of  Learning,  whose 
Discourses  do  daily  produce  so  many  things  worthy 
Notice,  you  may  learn  a  great  Deal  with  but  little 
Pains. 

Er.  That  is  very  right. 

De.  For  besides  the  Table-Talk,  their  daily  Con 
versation  after  Dinner,  you  hear  eight  fine  Sentences, 
collected  out  of  the  most  approv'd  Authors  ;  and  after 
Supper  as  many.  Now  do  but  reckon  up  what  a  Sum 
this  will  amount  to  in  a  Month,  and  how  many  more  in 
a  Year. 

Er.  A  very  large  Sum,  if  I  could  but  remember  them 
all. 

De.  And  then,  again,  when  you  hear  nothing  but  true 
Latin  spoken,  what  hinders  you,  but  that  you  may 
learn  Latin  in  a  very  few  Months,  when  Lads,  who  have 
no  Learning,  do  learn  the  French  or  Spanish  Tongue 
in  a  very  little  Time  ? 

Er.  I  will  take  your  Course,  and  try  whether  I  can 
bring  this  Mind  of  mine  to  submit  to  the  Yoke  of  the 
Muses. 

De.  I  know  no  other  notable  Art,  but  Industry, 
Delight,  and  Assiduity. 


THE  SERMON,  OR  MERDARDUS  a 
THE  ARGUMENT 

Here  Erasmus  inveighs  against  a  certain  Franciscan, 
whom  he  calls  (Merdardus)  a  shitten  Divine,  that  had 
carp'd  at  his  Version  of  the  Virgin  Mary's  Song  call'd 
Magnificat.  He  describes  the  Man's  Person  who  had 
call'd  Erasmus  Devil,  and  cavill'd  at  his  translating  it, 
quia  respexit  Dominus  ad  humilitatem  ancillcc  sues,  when 
the  Virgin  Mary  was  higher  in  Dignity  than  the  Angels. 
Whether  or  not  vilitas  answers  to  TTJ  Tcuravwcret.  Re- 
spicere  ad  and  aspicere,  wherein  they  differ.  Respicere 
aliquem  and  Respicere  ad  aliquein.  Hnmilitas  is  us'd 
by  the  Latins,  as  well  in  Respect  to  the  Mind,  as  the 
Condition.  The  Place  in  Col.  ii.  18  is  explain'd,  as  also 
James  i.  9,  10.  The  Difference  between  Tairelvucris  and 
TaireivdKppoa'uvf].  The  Tenor  of  the  Song  itself  shews 
that  the  Virgin  speaks  of  her  own  Unworthiness,  which 
Erasmus  elegantly  explains.  The  stupid  Ignorance  of 
the  Monks,  who  say  Vestimenta  for  Vestcs.  A  Crew 
of  saucy  Knaves,  that  make  even  Kings  stand  in  Awe 
of  them 

HILARY  and  LEVINUS 

Hil.  Good  God  !  What  Monsters  there  are  in  the 
World  !  What,  Men  in  holy  Orders  to  be  asham'd  of 
nothing  !  why  certainly  they  think  they  are  talking  to 
Musrooms,  and  not  to  Men. 

Lev.  What's  that  which  Hilary  mutters  to  himself? 
I  fancy  he's  making  Verses. 

Hil.  What  would  I  give,  had  I  but  the  stopping  of 
that  Babbler's  nasty  Mouth  with  a  Turd  ? 

Lev.  I'll  speak  to  him.  How  now?  what,  Hilary  not 
merry  ! 


144  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Hil.  You  're  come  in  very  good  Time,  Levinus,  for 
me  to  discharge  myself  of  this  Uneasiness  too. 

Lev.  If  you  discharge  your  Stomach,  I  had  rather 
you  should  do  it  into  a  Bason  than  upon  me.  But 
prithee,  what's  the  Matter,  and  where  have  you  been  ? 

Hil.  Been  !     I  have  been  hearing  a  Sermon. 

Lev.  But  what  should  a  Poet  concern  himself  with 
Sermons  for? 

Hil.  I  have  no  Aversion  to  holy  Duties,  but  I  have 
happened  to  drop  into  this  Performance,  which  is  to  be 
call'd  so  in  the  Sense  that  Virgil  calls  Avarice  so  : 2 
But  it  is  such  Sort  of  Billingsgate  Parsons3  as  these, 
that  are  the  Occasion  that  I  seldom  go  to  Church. 

Lev.  But  where  was  this  Sermon  preach'd  ? 

Hil.  In  the  Cathedral. 

Lev.  What,  in  the  Afternoon  ?  Men  commonly  take 
a  Nap  after  Dinner. 

Hil.  I  wish  all  that  were  hearing  that  Babbler  had 
been  asleep,  for  he  was  scarce  fit  to  preach  to  a  Flock 
of  Geese. 

Lev.  A  Goose  is  a  noisy  Creature.  But  they  say  St. 
Francis  once  preach'd  to  a  Sisterhood  of  little  Birds,4 
who  heard  him  with  a  great  Deal  of  Attention.  But 
prithee  tell  me,  do  they  use  to  preach  on  Saturdays  ? 

Hil.  Yes,  they  do  in  Honour  of  the  Virgin  Mary  ;  for 
Christ's  Day  is  on  Sunday,  and  it  is  meet  the  Mother 
should  be  serv'd  first. 

Lev.  What  was  the  Text  ? 

Hil.  He  went  thro'  the  Song  of  the  Virgin  Mary. 

Lev.  That 's  a  very  common  Argument. 

Hil.  The  fitter  for  him  that  preach'd  upon  it,  for  I 
believe  he  never  learn'd  any  Argument  but  this  ;  as 
they  say  there  are  some  Priests  who  can  say  no  Part  of 
the  Common  Prayer,  but  the  Service  for  the  Dead. 

Lev.  Well  then,  let  him  be  call'd  the  Magnificat 
Preacher,  or  if  you  will,  the  Magnificatarian.  But 
what  Sort  of  a  Fellow  is  he?  what  Habit  does  he  wear? 


The  Sermon  145 

Hil.  He's  a  Wolf  in  Sheep's  Cloathing. 

Lev.  What  House  did  he  come  out  of? 

Hil.  The  Franciscans. 

Lev.  How  say  you,  a  Franciscan  ?  what,  one  of  that 
holy  Order?  It  may  be  he  is  one  of  those  that  are 
call'd  Gaudentes,  that  wear  Garments  of  a  brown 
Colour,  whole  Shoes,  a  white  Girdle  ;  and  make  no 
Scruple  (I  tremble  to  speak  it)  to  touch  Money  with 
their  bare  Fingers. 

Hil.  Nay,  none  of  them,  I  '11  assure  you  ;  but  of  those 
that  call  themselves  Observants,  that  wear  Ash-colour'd 
Garments,  Hempen  Girdles,  cut  and  slash'd  Shoes,  and 
would  rather  commit  Murder  than  touch  Money  with 
out  Gloves. 

Lev.  It  is  no  strange  Thing  for  a  Nettle  to  grow  in 
a  Rose-Bed ; 5  but  who  brought  this  Fool  upon  the 
Stage  ? 

Hil.  You  'd  say  so  the  rather,  if  you  were  but  to  see 
the  Buffoon.  He  was  a  swindging  Fellow,  with  a  red 
Face,  a  paunch  Gut,  and  a  hopper  Arse  : 6  You  would 
take  him  to  be  a  Master  of  the  Science,"  and  one  that  I 
verily  believe  drinks  more  than  one  Pint  of  Wine  at  a 
Meal. 

Lev.  But  how  can  one  come  by  so  much  Wine,  that 
has  no  Money  to  buy  it  ? 

Hil.  King  Ferdinand  allows  them  four  Pints  a  Day 
out  of  his  Cellar. 

Lev.  A  Bounty  indeed  very  ill  bestow'd  :  But  it  may 
be  he  was  a  Man  of  Learning. 

Hil.  Nothing  in  the  World  but  Impudence  and  Noise. 

Lev.  But  how  came  Ferdinand  to  be  so  much  out  of 
the  Way,  a's  to  bestow  his  Bounty  upon  a  Block 
head? 

Hil.  Why,  to  tell  you  in  brief,  his  pious  Inclination 
and  bounteous  Disposition  led  him  aside  ;  he  was  re 
commended  to  him,  and  he  was  one  of  them  that  carried 
his  Head  upon  his  right  Shoulder. 

VOL.  HI.  K 


146  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Lev.  So  Christ  hung  upon  the  Cross.  But  was  there 
a  great  Auditory  ? 

Hil.  How  could  it  be  otherwise  at  Augsburg,  in  the 
Great  Church  there,  where  there  was  so  great  a  Concourse 
of  Sovereign  Princes,  whom  the  Emperor  Charles  had 
drawn  together  from  all  Parts  of  Germany,  Italy,  Spain 
and  England  ?  And  besides,  there  were  a  great  many 
Men  of  Learning  present  at  the  Sermon,  especially  of 
the  Courtiers. 

Lev.  I  should  wonder  if  such  a  Swine  should  produce 
any  Thing  worthy  of  such  an  Auditory. 

Hil.  I  '11  assure  you  he  did  produce  a  great  many 
Things  worthy  of  himself. 

Lev.  What  were  they,  prithee  ?  but  first,  pray  tell  me 
his  Name. 

Hil.  That  is  not  convenient. 

Lev.  Why  so,  Hilary? 

Hil.  I  don't  love  to  gratify  such  Fellows. 

Lev.  Prithee  hold  thy  Tongue  :  Is  that  a  gratifying 
of  them  to  expose  'em  ? 

Hil.  It  is  the  greatest  Gratification  in  the  World  to 
them  to  become  noted,  be  it  by  what  Means  it  will. 

Lev.  Well  do  but  tell  me  the  Name,  I  won't  mention 
it  again. 

Hil.  He  is  call'd  Merdardus. 

Lev.  Merdardus  !  phoo,  I  know  him  very  well ;  he's 
the  very  same  Man  that  lately  at  an  Entertainment 
call'd  our  Erasmus  a  Devil. 

Hil.  He  did  so  :  but  however,  he  was  taken  up  for 
it  ;  for  those  that  were  the  most  favourable  to  him,  took 
it  to  be  the  effect  of  his  Wine,  and  look'd  upon  it 
accordingly. 

Lev.  But  what  Excuse  had  he  when  he  was  reprov'd 
for  it  ? 

Hil.  He  said  he  did  not  speak  it  seriously. 

Lev.  Seriously  !  how  should  he,  when  he  had  neither 
Seriousness  nor  Sense  in  him  ? 


The  Sermon  147 

Hit.  But  it  is,  in  my  Opinion,  and  also  of  all  learned 
Men,  an  unsufferable  Thing,  that  this  nasty  Fellow 
should  set  forth  his  nasty  Ware  so  publickly,  in  so 
venerable  a  Place,  before  such  an  Auditory,  and  in  the 
hearing  of  so  many  great  Princes. 

Lev.  I  am  with  Child  to  hear  what  it  was  he  said. 

Hit.  He  foolishly  raved  against  our  Erasmus,  saying 
a  great  many  scurvy  Things  of  him,  the  Substance  of 
which  was  as  follows  :  There  is,  says  he,  in  our  Days  a 
new  up-start  Doctor  call'd  Erasmus  :  My  Tongue  fail'd 
me,  I  would  have  said  Asinus.  Then  he  inform'd  the 
People  what  Asinus  signify'd  in  the  German  Tongue. 

Lev.  A  very  comical  Fancy  ! 

Hil.  Was  it  so  very  comical,  do  you  think  ?  I  think 
it  was  rather  very  foolish. 

Lev.  Was  it  not  very  comical  that  such  an  Ass  as  he 
should  call  any  Body  Ass,  and  much  less  Erasmus  ?  I 
am  confident,  had  Erasmus  been  there,  he  would  not 
have  forborn  laughing. 

Hil.  In  Truth,  he  resembles  an  Ass  as  much  by  his 
Stupidity,  as  he  does  by  the  Colour  of  his  Cloaths. 

Lev.  I  believe  all  Arcadia  does  not  produce  an  Ass 
that  is  so  much  of  an  Ass,  or  better  deserves  to  be  fed 
with  Hay  than  he  does. 

Hil.  In  short,  he  is  Apuleius  turn'd  inside  out ;  for 
Apuleius  hid  a  Man  under  the  Form  of  an  Ass,  but  this 
Fellow  hides  an  Ass  under  the  Shape  of  a  Man. 

Lev.  In  short,  we  make  so  many  of  these  Asses 
pamper'd  with  Wine  and  Dainties,  that  it's  no  Wonder 
if  they  bite  and  kick  all  that  come  near  them. 

Hil.  This  Dr.  Ass,  says  he,  presumes  to  correct  the 
Magnificat,  notwithstanding  it  is  a  Song  of  the  holy 
Spirit's  own  inditing,  pronounced  by  the  Mouth  of  the 
most  holy  Virgin  herself. 

Lev.  I  know  the  Proverb  of  the  Brothers.8 

Hil.  And  then  he  sets  it  out  in  Words,  as  tho'  it  was 
the  utmost  Pitch  of  Blasphemy. 


148  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Lev.  Now  my  Heart  aches  for  Fear  of  the  Crime 
committed. 

Hil.  Why,  he  said  Erasmus  had  translated  that  which 
the  Church  uses  in  the  Litany  in  these  Words  :  Quia 
respexit  Dominus  humilitatem  ancilltz  sucz,  thus,  Quia 

respexit  vilitatem  ancillce  sues. '  Because   the  Lord 

hath  regarded  the  Lowliness  of  his  Handmaid;'  he  has 
translated  it,  '  The  Lord  hath  regarded  the  Vileness  of 
his  Handmaid.'  And  that  Word  sounds  worse  in  High- 
Dutch,  than  it  does  in  Latin. 

Lev.  Who'  will  not  own  that  it  were  a  horrid  Blasphemy 
for  any  one  to  call  the  most  holy  Mother  of  Christ  (who 
was  higher  in  Dignity  than  the  Angels  themselves)  a 
vile  Handmaid? 

Hil,  Why,  suppose  any  one  should  call  the  Apostles 
themselves  unprofitable  Servants  ? 

Lev.  I  would  find  Fagots  to  burn  such  a  Blasphemer. 

Hil.  What  if  any  one  should  say  that  famous  Apostle 
Paul  was  unworthy  the  Name  of  an  Apostle  ? 

Lev.   I  would  have  him  burnt  for  a  Heretick. 

Hil.  And  yet  Christ  himself,  that  Teacher  who  cannot 
be  refuted,  taught  his  Apostles  to  speak  after  this  Man 
ner  :  '  When  you  have  done  whatsoever  is  commanded 
you,  say,  We  are  unprofitable  Servants.'  And  St.  Paul, 
not  unmindful  of  this  command,  says  of  himself,  '  I  am 
the  least  of  all  the  Apostles,  and  not  worthy  the  Name 
of  an  Apostle.' 

Lev.  Ay,  but  when  godly  Men  say  such  Things  of 
themselves,  it  is  their  Modesty,  than  which  nothing  is 
more  well-pleasing  to  God  :  But  if  any  Body  else  should 
say  such  Things  of  them,  especially  such  as  are  gone  to 
Heaven,  it  would  be  Blasphemy. 

Hil.  You  have  made  out  the  Matter  finely  :   then  if 
Erasmus  has  said  that  the  Adorable  Virgin  was  '  a  vile 
Handmaid '  of  the  Lord's,  there  is  no  Body  but  would 
say  this  was  impiously  spoken.     But  inasmuch  as  she 
speaks  of  herself  after  that  Manner,  it  is  for  her  Glory, 


The  Sermon  149 

and  furnishes  us  with  an  Example  of  Modesty  ;  because 
as  whatsoever  we  are,  we  are  by  the  Grace  of  God  ;  so 
the  greater  any  Person  is,  the  more  humbly  he  ought  to 
behave  himself. 

Lev.  I  agree  with  you  so  far.  But  those  Persons, 
when  they  say  they  correct,  intend  to  corrupt  or  falsify. 
But  then  we  ought  to  see,  whether  the  Word  vilitas 
answers  to  the  Greek  Word  that  Luke  made  Use  of. 

Hil.  For  that  very  Purpose  I  made  Haste  from  the 
Sermon,  to  consult  the  Text. 

Lev.  Pray  let  me  hear  what  you  gather'd  thence. 

Hil.  The  Words  which  Luke,  by  the  Inspiration  of 
the  Holy  Spirit,  writ  with  his  holy  Fingers,  are  thus,  ort 
eV«73Xe\J/-«i'  fTrl  TT]V  Tcnrf'ivaHTiv  rfjs  SovXi/r  avrov  ;  our 
Erasmus  has  translated,  Quia  respexit  ad  humilitatem 
ancillis  suce.  He  only  adds  the  Preposition,  which 
Luke  himself  did  not  leave  out ;  which  is  no  inelegant 
Latin,  nor  is  superfluous  as  to  the  Sense.  Terence  in 
Phormio  speaks  in  the  same  Form,  Respice  ad  me.  But 
in  the  Annotations  we  find,  Luke  rather  said,  aspice  ad 
me,  than  respice  ad  me. 

Lev.  Why  then,  is  there  any  Difference  between 
respicere  and  aspicere  ? 

Hil.  Not  very  much,  but  there  is  some  :  He  respicit, 
who,  turning  his  Head,  looks  at  those  Things  that  are 
behind  him  ;  He  aspicit,  who  simply  looks  upon.  As  in 
Terence,  Phasdria  looks  upon  Thais  coming  out  of 
Doors,  saying,  Totus,  Parmeno,  tremo  horieoque  post- 
qitam  aspexi  hanc.  But  the  Brother  Chserea  speaks 
thus,  Qmim  Jmc  respicio  advirginem  ;  for  he  had  turned 
himself  toward  the  old  Man,  and  when  he  had  done, 
turned  his  Body  back  again  to  the  Maid.  But  yet  some 
times  respicere  is  used,  for  to  have  Regard  to,  or  Care 
of  any  Thing,  either  coming  on  us,  or  that  is  present  : 
So  the  Satyrist  uses  it  ; 

Respicere  extremes  jussit  spatia  ultima  vitce. 
For  Death  follows  us  as   pressing  upon  our  Backs,  at 


I  50  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

which  we  look  back  as  often  as  we  think  of  it.  And 
Terence  says,  Respice  senectutem  tuam  :  Therefore  he, 
that  being  intent  upon  any  Thing  else,  does  not  take 
Care  of  his  Children,  is  said  illos  non  respicere  :  And  on 
the  other  Hand,  he  that  throwing  off  other  Cares,  turns 
his  Thoughts  this  Way,  is  very  elegantly  said  respicere. 
But  God,  at  one  View,  sees  all  Things  past,  present,  and 
to  come  ;  but  yet  in  the  holy  Scripture  he  speaks  to  us 
after  the  Manner  of  Men.  He  is  said  aversari  those 
whom  he  rejects,  respicere  those  whom  he  bestows  his 
Favour  upon,  after  having  seemed  to  neglect  them  for 
some  Time.  But  Luke  had  expressed  this  more  fully,  if 
he  had  said  aTre'/SXe^ep  ;  now  we  read  it  eirtfiXe^ffv :  but 
read  which  you  will,  the  Sense  is  much  the  same. 

Lev.  But  then  the  Preposition  repeated  seems  to  be 
superfluous. 

Hi  I.  It  is  certain  the  Latins  speak  in  this  Manner  ; 
Accessitad me j  appidit  animum  ad  scribendum.  I  don't 
think  the  Preposition  is  superfluous  in  this  Sentence  : 
For  he  may  be  said  respicere,  who  happens  to  look 
back,  directing  his  Sight  to  no  particular  Object ;  but 
when  it  is  expressed  respexit  ad  me,  there  is  a  peculiar 
Favour  of  the  Person's  being  willing  to  succour  this  or 
that  Person  expressed.  So  aspirimus  Things  sometimes 
that  come  in  the  Way  by  Chance,  that  we  have  no  cer 
tain  Care  of,  nay,  even  those  Things  that  we  have  no 
Mind  to  see  :  But  whosoever  ad  aliquem  aspicit,  is  in  a 
peculiar  Manner  attent  to  that  which  he  beholds.  And 
then  again,  aspicimus,  we  behold  many  Things  at  once  ; 
but  not  aspicimus,  we  have  Regard  to  many  Things  at 
once.  Therefore,  the  Holy  Spirit  designing  to  signify 
to  us  a  singular  Favour  toward  the  Holy  Virgin,  thus 
expresses  it  by  her  own  Mouth,  Quia  respexit  ad  humili- 
tatem  ancillce  slice.  He  turns  away  his  Eyes  from  those 
that  are  lifted  up,  and  great  in  their  own  Opinions,  and 
fixes  them  upon  her  who  is  very  low  in  her  own  Eyes. 
Nor  is  it  to  be  doubted,  but  there  were  a  great  many 


The  Sermon  151 

learned,  mighty,  rich,  and  noble  Persons,  who  hoped  for 
the  Messiah  to  come  of  their  Stock  :  But,  God  despising 
them,  turn'd  the  Eyes  of  his  most  merciful  Favour  upon 
a  Virgin  of  an  obscure  Character,  mean  in  the  World, 
marry'd  to  a  Carpenter,  and  not  inrich'd  with  any  Off 
spring. 

Lev.  But,  I  hear  nothing  all  this  While  of  vilitas 
[Vileness]. 

Hil,  That  was  the  Sycophant's  own  Word,  and  none 
of  Erasmus's. 

Lev.  But,  perhaps  he  uses  the  Word  vilitas  in  the 
Annotations. 

Hil.  No,  not  at  all.  Indeed,  upon  the  Word 
ranfivcaa-iv  he  very  modestly  observes  thus,  Ut  intelligas 
parvitatem,  non  animi  virtutem;  sitque  sensus :  Etsi 
sim  infima  ana'/la,  tamen  non  est  aversatus  me  Dominus : 
'  That  thou  mayst  understand  it  of  Meanness,  not  of  the 
Virtue  of  the  Mind  ;  and  the  Meaning  must  be  :  Altho' 
I  be  a  very  mean  Handmaid,  yet  the  Lord  hath  not  dis 
dained  me.' 

Lev.  If  this  is  true,  and  so  pious,  what  is  it  that  these 
wild  Asses  bray  at  ? 

Hil.  Why,  it  is  Ignorance  of  the  Latin  Tongue  that 
makes  them  cause  this  Disturbance.  Humility,9  with 
the  Antients,  who  spoke  most  correctly,  did  not  signify 
that  Virtue  of  the  Mind  that  is  opposite  to  Arrogance, 
and  is  call'd  Modesty,  but  a  meaner  Sort  of  Condition  ; 
in  that  Sense  that  we  call  ignoble,  poor,  private,  and 
despised  Persons,  Incmiles,  as  if  we  should  say  humi 
repentes.  And,  as  when  speaking  to  great  Personages, 
we  say,  We  entreat  your  Highness  to  do  me  the  Favour  ; 
so  they,  who  speaking  of  themselves,  would  extenuate 
their  own  Circumstances,  use  to  say,  We  pray,  that  out 
of  your  Humanity,  you  would  assist  our  humilitatem 
[low  Estate].  For,  the  Emphasis  of  Pronouns  Primitive 
carries  in  it  oftentimes  a  Sort  of  Arrogancy  :  As,  I  say, 
I  will  cause.  So  that  the  Maiden  two  Ways  very 


152  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

modestly  both  extenuates  her  own  Condition,  and  extols 
the  Munificence  of  the  divine  Being  ;  not  being  content 
to  style  herself  a  Handmaid,  but  also  a  humble  one, 
one  of  the  meanest  Circumstances.  According  to  the 
old  Proverb,  'There  is  Difference  in  Servants';  so  in 
Maid-Servants,  one  is  better  than  another,  as  to  the 
Dignity  of  their  Office  :  A  Waiting-Gentlewoman  is 
more  honourable  than  a  Laundry-Maid. 

Lev.  But  I  wonder  that  Merdardus  should  not  be 
acquainted  with  that  Form  of  Expression,  seeing  I 
myself  have  often  heard  the  Franciscans  thus  speaking, 
meaparvitas  [my  Meanness]  gives  you  Thanks  for  this 
noble  Entertainment. 

Hil.  Some  of  them  would  not  be  out  of  the  Way  if  they 
said  mea  pravitas  [my  Naughtiness].  But,  because  the 
Greek  Word  Tan(ivo(ppo(rvi>r)  seems  to  express  something 
more  than  the  Latin  Word  Modestia,  Christians  have 
chose  rather  to  use  the  Word  Humilitas  [Humility]  than 
Modestia  [Modesty]  that  is,  they  had  rather  speak 
significantly  than  elegantly  :  For,  he  is  said  to  be 
modest,  that  thinks  moderately  of  himself;  arrogating 
nothing  to  himself  more  than  he  deserves.  But  the 
Commendation  of  ranfivo^poa-vvr]  [Humility]  belongs 
only  to  him  that  ascribes  less  to  himself  than  he  hath. 

Lev.  But  then  there  is  Danger,  lest  while  we  affect  to 
be  modest,  we  happen  to  be  vain. 

Hil.  How  so? 

Lev.  Why,  if  Paul  spoke  Truth,  in  saying,  '  I  am  not 
worthy  to  be  call'd  an  Apostle ' ;  and  if  Mary  said  truly, 
that  '  she  was  a  mean  Handmaid,'  that  is,  one  of  the 
meanest  Circumstances  ;  then,  they  run  the  Hazard  of 
Lying,  who  set  them  out  in  so  magnificent  Titles. 

Hil.  My  good  Friend,  here's  no  great  Danger  in 
that ;  for,  when  we  set  out  good  Men,  or  Women,  with 
Praises,  in  that  we  speak  forth  the  Goodness  of  God  to 
them  ;  but  when  they  debase  themselves,  they  have  an 
Eye  to  what  their  own  Strength  and  Merits  are,  if  it 


The  Sermon  153 

were  not  for  the  Grace  of  God.  Nor  is  it  of  Necessity  a 
Lye,  if  any  one  does  not  lay  claim  to  what  he  has ;  if 
he  speaks  as  he  thinks,  it  can  at  most  be  but  a  Mistake, 
it  can't  be  call'd  a  downright  Lye  :  And  God  is  pleased 
when  we  are  in  this  Error. 

Lev.  Paul,  who  denies  '  that  he  was  worthy  to  be  called 
an  Apostle,'  in  another  Place  speaks  very  magnificently 
of  himself,  recounting  his  Performances  ;  '  I  have,'  saith 
he, '  laboured  more  than  all,  and  those  who  seem  to  be 
something,  have  added  nothing  to  me  : '  Whereas  we 
don't  read  the  holy  Virgin  said  any  Thing  of  this 
Nature. 

Hil.  But  Paul  calls  these  Performances  his  Infirmi 
ties,  by  which  the  Power  of  God  was  manifested  ;  and 
likewise,  calls  the  Mention  of  them  Folly,  to  which  he 
was  compell'd  by  the  Wickedness  of  some  false 
Apostles,  who  had  render'd  it  necessary  for  him  to  lay 
Claim  to  his  Apostolical  Authority  ;  not  that  he  delighted 
in  human  Glory,  but  because  it  was  expedient  for  the 
Gospel,  the  Dispensation  of  which  was  committed  to 
him.  The  Virgin  had  not  the  same  Reason  ;  she  had 
not  the  Office  of  preaching  the  Gospel  committed  to 
her.  Besides,  the  utmost  Decency  and  Modesty 
became  her,  as  a  Woman,  as  a  Virgin,  and  as  the 
Mother  of  Jesus.  Now  I  come  to  the  Original  of  this 
Error.  They  that  do  not  understand  Latin,  think 
Humility  signifies  nothing  but  a  notable  Modesty  ; 
when  it  is  often  made  Use  of  as  to  Place  or  Condition, 
and  not  as  to  any  Virtue  of  the  Mind  ;  and  sometimes  it 
is  so  applied  to  the  Mind,  as  to  signify  that  which  is 
Blame-worthy. 

Leu.  What,  in  the  holy  Scriptures  ? 

Hil.  Yes.  Here  's  a  Place  for  you  in  the  Epistle  of 
Paul  to  the  Colossians,  Chap.  ii.  '  Let  no  Man  seduce 
you  in  a  voluntary  Humility  and  Worshipping  of  Angels.' 
Nor  is  it  in  this  Place  «V  Tanfivaxrfi,  which  is  the  Word 
that  is  in  the  Virgin's  Song,  but  eV  TaKuvr.fypoavvrj.  The 


154  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Place,  1  confess,  has  something  of  Difficulty  in  it  ;  but 
I  take  that  to  be  the  genuine  Sense  of  it,  that  learned 
Men  have  accurately  given  it :  'Be  ye  not  of  so  low  and 
abject  a  Mind,  as  having  once  dedicated  yourselves  to 
Christ,  the  only  Author  of  Salvation,  to  suffer  yourselves 
to  be  persuaded  to  hope  for  Salvation  from  Angels, 
whom  some  pretend  to  have  appeared  to  them.  Be  ye 
of  so  high  a  Mind,  as  that  if  any  Angel,  who  really  came 
from  Heaven,  should  preach  any  other  Gospel  than  that 
Christ  hath  delivered,  let  him  be  accursed,  as  a  wicked 
Angel,  and  an  Enemy  to  Christ  :  Much  less  is  it  fit,  that 
you  should  be  of  such  abject  Minds,  as  to  suffer  your 
selves  to  be  led  away  from  Christ  by  their  feigned 
Apparitions.  To  hope  for  Salvation  from  Christ  alone, 
is  Religion  ;  to  expect  it  from  Angels,  or  Saints  is 
Superstition.'  Paul  therefore  means,  that  it  is  the  Part 
of  an  abject  Mind,  and  not  that  exalted  Mind  of  Christ, 
to  swerve  aside  to  the  fictitious  Apparitions  of  Angels  ; 
and  it  is  the  Part  of  a  mean  Mind  to  be  led  about  by 
every  Body's  Persuasion.  Here  you  see,  that  rcnreivo- 
<ppoavvr}  is  us'd  in  a  bad  Sense. 

Lev.   I  see  it. 

Hil.  Again,  in  the  same  Chapter,  'After  the  Com 
mandments  and  Doctrines  of  Men,  which  Things  have 
indeed  a  Shew  of  Wisdom  in  Will-Worship  and  Humi 
lity.'  Here  again,  Tanavofypoa-vvr]  is  used  in  a  bad 
Sense. 

Lev.  It  is  plain. 

Hil.  Again,  in  I  Pet.  v.,  it  is  used  for  that  Virtue 
which  is  contrary  to  Pride,  TTJV  TaTrtivotypoo-vvrjv  tyicop.- 
fiaa-aaBe,  for  which  we  read  'be  cloathed  with  Humility.' 
And  again  in  the  2d  of  Philippians,  rfj  raTreivcxfrpoo-vvT) 
d\\r)\ovs  rjyov^ifvot  {nrepexovras  favraiv  :  'In  Lowliness 
of  Mind  let  every  one  esteem  another  better  than 
himself.' 

Lev.  You  have  made  it  out,  that  rcnrfivocppoo-vin)  is 
used  both  Ways,  when  the  Romans  use  modestia  only 


The  Sermon  155 

by  Way  of  Commendation  ;  but  can  you  prove  that 
raneivaais  is  used  for  Modesty? 

Hil.  There  is  no  Absurdity  in  using  of  it  so.  There 
is  nothing  hinders  but  that  we  may  attribute  Submission 
and  Lowliness,  to  the  Mind  :  But  whether  or  no  it  be  so 
used  in  the  holy  Scriptures,  I  cannot  tell. 

Lev.  Consider  if  St.  James  uses  it  in  that  Sense  or 
not,  '  Let  the  Brother  of  low  Degree  rejoice  in  that  he 
is  exalted,  but  the  rich  in  that  he  is  made  low.' 

Hi  1.  In  that  Place  it  is  Iv  rctTmi/coo-et,  not  Tcnrfivo- 
tppocrvvi].  And  if  you  will  needs  have  it,  that  here  Humi 
lity  is  taken  for  Modesty,  it  follows  of  Consequence,  that 
we  must  take  Exaltation  for  Pride  ;  and  then  arises  a 
twofold  Absurdity.  For,  as  he  is  no  modest  Man  that 
boasts  of  his  Modesty,  and  brags  of  himself ;  so  also  he 
is  doubly  arrogant  that  glories  in  his  Pride. 

Lev.  What  then  does  the  Apostle  mean  ? 

Hil.  He  commands  Equality  among  Christians.  The 
poor  Man  is  said  to  be  low,  in  that  he  is  of  a  meaner 
Fortune  ;  the  rich  Man  is  said  to  be  high  in  the  Eye  of 
the  World,  because  of  the  Splendor  of  his  Fortune. 
This  rich  Man  debases  himself  to  the  Condition  of  a 
poor  Man,  and  the  poor  Man  is  raised  to  be  equal  with 
the  rich  Man.  They  have  both  of  them  something  to 
glory  in  ;  the  one  rejoices  in  his  helping  the  Necessity 
of  the  Poor  with  his  Riches  ;  the  other  glories  in  the 
Name  of  Christ,  that  he  has  inspired  such  a  Spirit  into 
the  Rich. 

Lev.  But  all  this  While  the  rich  Man  enjoys  the 
Commendation  of  his  Modesty  too. 

Hil.  Perhaps  he  may  ;  but  it  does  not  thence  follow, 
that  TaTTfivaxris  signifies  Modesty.  For  there  are  some 
Persons  who  bestow  a  great  Deal  upon  the  Poor,  that 
they  may  gain  a  good  Name  among  Men.  But  indeed, 
both  of  them  may  be  modest,  if  they  are  truly  pious  : 
the  rich  Man,  when  it  is  not  burdensome  to  him,  for 
Christ's  Sake,  to  be  made  equal  with  the  Poor  ;  and  the 


156  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

poor  Man,  that  he  does  not  become  puffed  up  with  the 
Honour  conferred  upon  him,  but,  giving  Thanks  to 
Christ,  glories  in  him.  It  is  beyond  Dispute,  that 
TaTretVoxjiy  is  frequently  used  in  the  holy  Scriptures,  to 
signify  that  Lowliness  of  Mind,  or  Dejection,  which 
proceeds  from  Affliction,  or  Infirmity.  Thus  Paul,  in 
the  3d  to  the  Philippians,  '  Who  shall  change  our  vile 
Bodies,'  TaTrfivaxreas.  In  like  Manner  in  Psalms  ix.  13, 
'  Consider  my  Trouble,  which  I  suffer  of  them  that  hate 
me  ;'  raircivaHTiv.  And  again,  in  Psalms  cxix.  50,  'This 
hath  comforted  me  in  mine  Humility,'  tv  Tcnrtivaxret,  that 
is  to  say,  in  Affliction.  There  are  a  great  many  Texts 
of  the  like  Kind,  too  many  to  be  mentioned  here. 
Therefore,  as  Taireivos  may  be  metaphorically  expressed 
Tcnreiv6(f>pQ)v,  that  is,  of  a  modest  Mind,  and  not  puffed 
up  ;  so  it  will  be  no  strange  Thing  for  any  one  to  use 
Tcnrtivuxris  for  Tanfivocfypoa-vvrj  if  we  speak  according  to 
the  Scripture  Phrase.  But,  as  for  those  who  will  have 
it  that  rcnrfivcacns  signifies  Modesty  of  Mind  in  the  Song 
of  the  Virgin  Mary,  and  at  the  same  Time  do  in  like 
Manner  interpret  what  we  read,  Gen.  xxix.,  '  The  Lord 
hath  looked  upon  my  Affliction,'  rairfivaxriv  ;  Leah  does 
not  boast  of  her  Modesty  ;  but  in  that,  by  reason  of  her 
Deformity,  she  was  less  pleasing  to  her  Husband,  she 
calls  her  Affliction.  After  the  same  Manner  in  Deut. 
xxvi.,  'And  looked  on  our  Affliction,  and  our  Labour, 
and  our  Oppression.'  Does  he  not  call  rairfivaxnv 
Affliction  ? 

Lev.  What  is  in  their  Minds  then,  who,  in  the  Song 
of  the  Virgin,  interpret  rcnrfivaMns  Modesty  of  Mind? 

Hil.  I  can  give  no  Reason  for  it  ;  but  that  our  Divines 
neglect  the  Knowledge  of  Language,  and  the  Study  of 
the  Latin  Tongue,  and  the  antient  Fathers,  who  cannot 
be  thoroughly  understood  without  these  Helps  :  And 
add  to  this,  'tis  a  hard  Matter  to  remove  Prejudice, 
when  once  'tis  fixed  in  the  Mind.  And  besides,  you  see 
some  Persons  attribute  so  much  to  the  Maxims  of 


The  Sermon  157 

Schools,  that  they  will  rather  reduce  the  Scripture  to 
them,  than  correct  their  human  Notions  by  it. 

Lev.  But  that  is  more  absurd  than  what  we  read  of 
the  Lesbian  Rule.10 

Hil.  Bede  the  Monk,  no  very  grave  Author,  whenso 
ever  he  departs  from  the  received  Opinions,  in  Relation 
to  the  Word  Taneivuxris,  makes  Mention  of  Pride.  But 
Thcophylact,  a  Greek  Writer,  who  form'd  his  Notions 
chiefly  from  the  most  approved  Greek  Writers,  denies 
that  TaTTfivoxris  is  here  to  be  taken  for  a  Virtue. 

Lev.  But  what  Need  is  there  to  have  Recourse  to 
Authority,  when  the  common  Opinion  of  Men  rejects 
that  Interpretation  ? 

Hil.  You  say  very  well ;  for  inasmuch  as  Modesty  is, 
as  it  were,  the  Perfection  and  Defendress  of  all  Virtues, 
it  would  be  Immodesty  in  any  one  to  praise  himself  for 
it.  I  will  allow  that  this  Virtue  was  most  perfect,  and 
incomparable  in  the  holy  Virgin  (I  mean,  Christ  ex- 
cepted) ;  but  in  this  very  Thing  she  is  the  more  com 
mendable  for  Modesty,  in  that  she  does  not  praise 
herself,  but  acknowledging  her  own  Meanness,  ascribes 
the  Greatness  of  the  Mystery  to  Divine  Mercy.  '  Mary,' 
say  they,  '  for  her  Modesty  deserved  to  be  the  Mother 
of  God.'  I  will  allow  this  to  be  true  in  a  Sense :  but 
pray  what  Modesty  is  it  for  the  Virgin  to  say  this  of 
herself? 

Lev.  Nay,  more  than  that,  the  very  Tenor  of  the 
Song  declares,  that  she  speaks  of  her  own  Unworthi- 
ness,  and  therefore  thus  begins :  '  My  Soul  doth 
magnify  the  Lord.'  But  she  that  shall  say,  '  I  deserve  to 
be  the  Mother  of  God  for  my  Modesty,'  magnifies  her 
self,  and  not  the  Lord  :  and  therefore  anon  she  adds, 
'  For  behold,  from  henceforth  all  Generations  shall  call 
me  blessed.'  'Behold'  signifies  the  Thing  was  sudden 
and  unexpected.  He  does  not  expect  to  have  the 
highest  of  Honours,  that  does  not  judge  himself  worthy 
of  any  Honour  at  all.  Nor  is  that  said  to  be  a  Happi- 


158  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

ness,  that  is  obtain'd  by  Merit ;  for  Horace  denies  that 
himself  was  to  be  call'd  happy,  in  that  he  was  adopted 
into  the  Number  of  Maecenas's  Friends. 

Hil.  Why  so  ? 

Lev.  Because  it  was  the  Effect  of  Judgment,  and  not 
mere  Favour  :  Maecenas  render'd  this  to  him,  because 
he  adjudg'd  it  due  to  his  Merit. 

Hil.  And  to  the  same  Purpose  is  that  which  follows  : 
'For  he  that  is  mighty  hath  done  to  me  great  Things, 
and  holy  is  his  Name  : '  She  does  not  say,  '  He  hath 
done  to  me  great  Things  because  he  judg'd  me  worthy  ; ' 
but  '  because  he  is  mighty,'  and  doth  whatsoever  he  will, 
and  maketh  them  meet  for  his  Favour  who  are  un 
worthy.  She  has  said  ' holy '  instead  of 'glorious.'  By 
how  much  we  arrogate  to  our  own  Merits,  by  so  much 
we  detract  from  the  Glory  of  the  Divine  Being  :  For,  as 
St.  Paul  says,  'His  Power  is  made  perfect  in  our  Weakness.' 
And  immediately,  in  the  same  Verse,  '  He  hath  deposed 
the  Mighty  from  their  Seats,  and  exalted  the  Men  of 
low  Degree  : '  Not  Taneivotypovas,  but  raneivovs,  i.e.  that 
he  may  oppose  the  despised  in  the  Eye  of  the  World 
to  Men  of  Power.  The  Sequel  explains  this  Verse  after 
the  Manner  of  the  Prophet's  speaking,  '  The  hungry 
hath  he  filled  with  good  Things,  but  the  rich  hath  he 
sent  empty  away.'  Those  who  just  now  were  call'd 
Men  of  low  Degree,  here  are  call'd  hungry,  that  is, 
poor ;  those  who  in  one  Place  are  call'd  '  mighty,'  are 
call'd  'rich  Men.'  In  the  next  Verse  there  is  Mention 
made  of  Mercy  diffusing  itself  thro'  all  the  Nations  of 
the  World.  In  the  last  Verse  she  makes  Mention  of  her 
Confidence  in  God's  Promises,  'As  he  hath  spoken,'  etc. 
Throughout  the  whole  Song  there  is  a  setting  forth  the 
Glory,  that  is,  the  Power,  the  Goodness  and  Truth  of 
God  :  There  is  no  Mention  at  all  made  of  Merits. 

Lev.  But  as  Pride  commonly  accompanies  Power  and 
Riches,  so  Poverty  teaches  Modesty. 

///'/.  I  don't  deny  that  it  sometimes  so  falls  out ;  but 


The  Sermon  159 

you  may  oftentimes  see  poor  Men  that  are  very  proud  : 
If  you  deny  that,  I  shall  instance  to  you  the  many  Mer- 
dards  that  there  are  in  the  World.  But  for  once,  suppose 
I  allow  it,  though  it  is  not  always  so.  The  Question  is 
not  here,  what  Sort  of  Person  the  most  holy  Mother 
of  Christ  was,  but  what  she  says  of  herself  in  this 
Song. 

Lev.  I  admire  at  the  Obstinacy  of  those  Persons, 
who  have  been  so  often  refuted,  and  laugh'd  at  for 
their  Folly  ;  and  that  they  are  not  brought  to  a 
Recantation. 

Hil.  How  often  have  they  been  told,  that  Declama 
tion  is  the  treating  on  a  fictitious  Theme,  wont  to  be 
made  Use  of  to  exercise  the  Faculty  of  speaking?  and 
yet  their  Sermons  are  nothing  else  but  Declamations. 
How  often  have  they  been  told,  that  he  is  a  Batchelor 
that  has  no  Wife,  tho'  he  keeps  six  hundred  Concu 
bines  ?  and  yet  they  will  have  it,  that  Celibacy  is  only 
Continency  and  Chastity.  It  is  the  same  as  to  Humi 
lity,  and  a  great  many  other  Things. 

Lev.  Whence  proceeds  this  obstinate  Stupidity  ? 

Hil.  I  answer  you,  I  say,  it  proceeds  from  the  '  Mer- 
dards  that  are  in  the  World  : '  They  never  would  be  at 
the  Pains  to  learn  when  they  were  young;  nor  have 
they  any  Books  nor  Opportunity  to  learn  ;  and  if  they 
have  wherewithal  to  furnish  themselves  with  Learning, 
they  had  rather  lay  it  out  upon  their  Bellies.  They 
think  the  Sanctity  of  their  Garment  is  enough  in  Con 
science  to  gain  them  a  Reputation  for  Piety  and  Learn 
ing.  And,  in  the  last  Place,  they  think  it  is  some  Part 
of  Religion  to  know  as  little  Latin  as  St.  Francis  did 
himself. 

Lev.  In  Truth,  I  know  a  great  many  that  are  like  their 
Patron  in  that,  who  say,  capero  for  galerus,  and  as  I 
think  vestimenta  for  vestes.  But  St.  Francis  alway 
refus'd  the  Honour  of  a  Presbyter  ;  and  so  I  think  St. 
Benedict  and  Dominic  did  likewise.  But  now-a-Days 


160  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

they,  with  their   Vestmenta  at  their  Arse,  won't  refuse 
a  Cardinal's  Hat,  if  it  be  offer'd  them. 

Hil.  A  Cardinal's  Hat,  say  you  ?  no,  nor  a  triple 
Crown  neither.  And  those  humble  Sons  of  poor  St. 
Francis,  will  put  forth  their  Slippers  to  be  kiss'd  by  the 
greatest  Monarchs  in  the  World. 

Lev.  And  then  if  you  should  use  the  Term  Vilitas  to 
'em,  it  would  be  an  unpardonable  Crime. 

Hi/.  Unpardonable  indeed,  if  by  Vile  you  mean  that 
which  is  of  small  Account  among  Men,  or  seems  con 
temptible  to  itself.  But  what  Need  is  there  to  make  an 
Excuse  for  that  which  was  not  said  ? 

Lev.  But  was  not  Merdardus  asham'd  to  tell  that 
Lye,  and  at  Church  too,  and  in  one  of  the  most  famous 
ones,  and  in  the  Hearing  of  a  great  Assembly  of 
Monarchs,  a  great  many  learned  Men,  that  had  read 
over  Erasmus's  Writings? 

Hil.  Asham'd,  say  you  ?  no,  the  Buffoon  thought 
he  deserv'd  the  Laurel  for  it ;  for  this  is  the  fourth 
Vow  of  the  Merdardians,  that  they  observe  more 
religiously  than  the  other  three,  Not  to  be  asham'd  of 
any  Thing. 

Lev.  There  are  indeed  a  great  many  that  are  very 
studious  of  that. 

Hil.  But  this  was  not  a  single  Lye  neither  ;  for  in  the 
first  Place,  the  Song  of  Mary,  as  Luke  wrote  it,  remains 
untouch'd.  How  can  he  be  said  to  correct  any  Thing, 
that  makes  no  Alteration  in  it  ?  And  then  the  Word 
Humilitas  is  not  alter'd,  nor  is  there  any  Mention  made 
of  Vilitas.  And  in  the  last  Place,  he  does  not  correct 
the  Song,  who  translates  faithfully  what  Luke  wrote,  but 
only  explains  it. 

Lev.  I  perceive  a  threefold  Lye,  very  like  such  a 
Buffoon. 

Hil.  But  hold,  you  have  not  heard  the  greatest  Piece 
of  Impudence  yet. 

Lev.  What,  have  you  any  more  then  ? 


The  Sermon  161 

Hil.  He  exclaimed  against  that  Ass  as  the  Head, 
Author,  and  Ringleader  of  all  the  Tumults  that  are 
in  the  Christian  World. 

Lev.  Said  he  so  ? 

Hil.  And  that  it  is  to  be  charged  upon  him,  that  the 
Church  is  torn  in  Pieces  by  so  many  Sectaries,  that  the 
Clergy  are  despoil'd  of  their  Tythes,  that  the  Bishops  are 
set  light  by,  and  the  sacred  Authority  of  the  Pope  him 
self  is  everywhere  disregarded  ;  that  Ploughmen  play 
the  Part  of  the  old  Gigantic  Race. 

Lev.  Does  he  say  these  Things  publickly? 

Hil.  Publickly  ?  ay,  and  makes  a  mighty  Clamouring 
too. 

Lev.  But  they  are  quite  of  another  Mind,  that  have 
attentively  read  over  the  Writings  of  Erasmus.  A  great 
many  of  them  will  acknowledge,  that  they  have  from  his 
Performances  collected  the  Seeds  of  true  Piety.  And 
this  Fire  that  has  been  kindled  by  the  Monks,  is 
gotten  to  that  Height,  that  all  the  endeavours  they  use 
to  put  it  out,  are  but  just  as  if  you  should  pour  Oil  into 
a  Fire. 

Hil.  You  see  what  an  evil  Beast  the  Belly  is. 

Lev.  You  have  hit  the  Nail  on  the  Head.  It  is 
indeed  for  the  Interest  of  such  Fellows,  that  there  be 
a  great  Deal  of  Superstition  in  the  Christian  World, 
and  but  a  very  little  true  Religion.  But  what  said  the 
Auditory  ?  could  they  bear  to  hear  such  an  Ass  bray 
in  the  Pulpit? 

Hil.  Some  wonder'd  what  was  come  to  the  Man. 
Those  that  were  of  a  cholerick  Temper,  went  out  of 
the  Church  murmuring,  saying,  We  came  to  hear  the 
Praises  of  the  holy  Virgin  set  forth,  and  this  drunken 
Fellow  is  vomiting  out  his  mere  Calumnies  upon  us. 
And  there  were  a  great  many  Women  present. 

Lev.  This  Sex  us'd  to  be  mighty  Admirers  of  this 
Order  of  Men. 

Hil.  You  say  right :  but  the  Women  perceiv'd  what 

VOL.  III.  L 


1 62  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Sort  of  a  Fellow  he  was.  And  some  that  were  Women 
of  Reading  were  uneasy,  and  some  hissed  him. 

Lev.  But  an  Ass  does  not  mind  hissing  ;  such  a  rail 
ing  Fellow  ought  to  have  been  pelted  out  of  his  Pulpit 
with  rotten  Eggs  and  Brick-Bats. 

Hil.  There  were  some  that  thought  he  deserv'd  it, 
and  would  have  done  it,  had  it  not  been  for  Respect  to 
the  Place. 

Lev.  The  Reverence  of  a  Place  ought  not  to  protect 
such  as  profane  it  by  their  Impiety  :  As  he  that  within 
the  Verge  of  the  Court  murders  a  Man,  it  is  not  meet 
the  Church  should  be  a  Sanctuary  to  him  ;  so  in  like 
Manner,  he  that  in  sacred  Discourses  abuses,  not  only 
People's  Patience,  but  also  the  Sanctity  of  the  Place, 
ought  not  to  be  skreen'd  by  the  Place,  that  he  has  by 
his  Temerity  profaned.  He  was  commended  by  the 
Antients,  that  would  not  permit  any  Person  to  be 
Consul,  who  had  not  been  a  Senator  :  So  it  is  not  meet 
that  he  should  be  a  Clergyman,  that  knows  not  how  to 
preach  a  Sermon. 

Hil.  Folks  are  afraid  of  the  Bishop's  Thunder-bolts, 
Si  quis  instigante  Diabolo,  etc.11  You  know  the 
Law. 

Lev.  The  Bishops  ought  rather  to  level  their  Thunder- 
Bolts  at  such  Railers. 

Hil.  They  themselves  are  afraid  of  these  Fellows. 

Lev.  Whom  are  they  afraid  of? 

Hil.  Why,  of  these  bawling  Fellows. 

Lev.  Why  so  ? 

Hil.  Because  they  are  bawling  Fellows. 

Lev.  The  Apostles  were  not  afraid  of  the  Menaces 
of  Kings  and  Rulers  ;  and  are  they  afraid  of  a  single 
Beggar  ? 

Hil.  For  that  very  Reason  they  are  the  more  to  be 
fear'd,  because  they  are  Beggars  ;  they  have  nothing  to 
lose,  but  they  have  Tongues  to  hurt  :  Go  but  to  a  Wasp's 
or  Hornet's  Nest,  and  do  but  touch  one  of  them  with 


The  Sermon  163 

your  Finger ;  aud  if  you  come  oft"  well,  come  to  me 
again,  and  then  call  the  Bishops  Drones,  that  are  afraid 
of  irritating  one  of  these  Beggars.  Do  not  the  most 
powerful  Monarchs  of  the  Christian  World  revere  the 
Pope  ;  nay,  and  perhaps  are  afraid  of  him  too  ? 

Lev.  That 's  no  Wonder,  inasmuch  as  he  is  the  Vicar 
of  Christ. 

Hil.  Well  ;  but  it  is  reported  of  Pope  Alexander  vi. 
who  was  no  Fool,  nor  Blockhead  neither,  that  he  us'd  to 
say, '  He  had  rather  offend  one  of  the  greatest  Monarchs, 
than  the  least  Brother  of  the  Order  of  Mendicants.' 1- 

Lev.  Well,  let 's  not  meddle  with  Popes  :  But  when 
the  Princes  that  were  at  Augsburg  heard  it,  did  they 
not  punish  him  for  it  ? 

Hil.  They  were  all  highly  provok'd  at  him,  but 
especially  King  Ferdinand,  and  his  Sister  Mary,  the 
Ornament  of  her  Sex  in  this  Age,  and  Bernard  Cardinal 
of  Trent,  and  Balthasar  Bishop  of  Constance  ;  and  this 
Preacher  was  severely  chid,  but  by  no  Body  more 
severely,  than  by  John  Faber,  Bishop  of  Vienna. 

Lev.  What  signifies  chiding  ?  an  Ass  minds  nothing 
but  a  Cudgel. 

Hil.  Especially  if  you  give  him  Belly-Timber.  But 
what  should  Princes  trouble  their  Heads  about  such  a 
silly  Fellow  as  he  for  ?  they  had  Things  of  far  greater 
Consequence  to  Mind. 

Lev.  They  should  at  least  have  silenced  him  from 
preaching,  and  taken  away  his  Pension. 

Hil.  But  the  cunning  Rogue  put  off  the  spitting  his 
Venom,  till  just  at  the  breaking  up  of  the  Diet,  and  they 
were  just  going  away. 

Lev.  They  say  the  Devil  goes  away  so,  leaving  a 
Stink  behind  him. 

Hil.  He  was  dismiss'd  by  King  Ferdinand,  but  was  in 
very  good  Case,  as  to  his  Corpse ;  for  the  Chiding  he 
met  with,  did  not  make  him  abate  of  his  Flesh. 

Lev.  It  is  reported  of  St.  Francis,  that  he  preach'd   a 


164  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Sermon  to  his  Sisters  the  Birds  ;  but  he  seems  only  fit 
to  preach  to  his  Brethren  the  Asses,  and  Hogs.  But 
whither  went  he,  when  he  had  done  ? 

Hil,  Whither  should  he  go,  but  to  his  Cell  ?  where  he 
was  receiv'd  with  Applause  by  his  Comrades,  for  having 
acted  his  Part  so  bravely  and  successfully ;  and  when 
they  got  over  their  Cups,  instead  of  lo  triumpJie,  they 
sung  Te  Deum. 

Lev.  This  Merdardus  deserves  to  wear  his  Rope  about 
his  Neck,  rather  than  his  Waist.  But  what  can  we  wish 
bad  enough  to  that  foolish  Society,  that  maintains  such 
Cattle  as  this  is  ? 

Hil.  You  can  scarce  think  of  any  Thing  to  wish  them 
worse,  than  what  they  bring  upon  themselves  ;  for  by 
such  Doings  as  these  especially,  they  make  themselves 
odious  to  all  good  Men,  and  bring  themselves  into  Con 
tempt  more  effectually  than  an  Enemy  can  do.  But  it 
is  not  a  Christian  Spirit  to  wish  ill  to  any  one  ;  but  we 
ought  rather  to  wish,  that  the  most  merciful  Creator  and 
Reformer  of  all  Things,  who  made  Nebuchadnezzar  an 
Ox  of  a  Man,  and  again  turned  him  from  an  Ox  to 
a  Man ;  and  gave  the  Tongue  of  a  Man  to  Balaam's 
Ass  ;  would  amend  all  who  are  like  Merdardus,  and  give 
them  Understanding  and  Utterance  becoming  Men  that 
profess  the  Gospel. 


THE  LOVER  OF  GLORY 


THE    ARGUMENT 

Symbulus  shews  the  Way  to  true  Glory,  and  a  good 
Name,  (i.)  That  a  Man  should  labour  to  be  really  such 
a  one  as  he  would  be  accounted.  (2.)  That  he  should  en 
deavour  to  imitate  famous  Men,  who  nevertheless  have 
been  accused  of  various  Crimes.  Cato  the  Elder  was 
accused  forty  Times.  (3.)  That  he  should  take  Care  not 
to  overdo  Things.  (4.)  That  he  be  of  an  easy  bearing 
Temper  in  Relation  to  other  Persons  Manners,  winking 
at  small  Faults.  (5.)  Not  obstinate  and  fond  of  his  own 
Opinion.  (6.)  That  he  should  be  courteous,  etc.  It  is 
impossible  to  please  every  one.  (7.)  That  as  much  as  in 
him  lies,  he  should  deserve  well  of  all.  This  is  to  be 
effected,  partly  by  good  Offices,  and  partly  by  Benefi 
cence.  Some  Persons  have  naturally  this  Felicity,  that 
whatsoever  they  do  pleases.  (8.)  Courtesy  and  engag 
ing  Carriage  gain  Respect.  (9.)  Inconstancy  is  to  be 
avoided.  (10.)  We  must  deviate  but  little  from  Nature, 
but  not  at  all  from  that  which  is  Honest,  (n.)  The 
Customs  of  Men  and  Nations  are  to  be  observ'd.  (12.) 
If  we  are  under  a  Necessity  to  do  any  Thing  that  will 
necessarily  displease,  let  it  appear  that  it  was  our  Will  to 
have  done  otherwise.  (13.)  Let  us  always  do  that  which 
is  just  and  honest.  (14.)  The  Tongue  is  the  Cause  why 
many  Persons  are  envy'd.  How  we  ought  to  commend 
or  discommend.  (15.)  To  write  Books  on  an  uncommon 
Subject,  and  to  do  it  with  Accuracy,  is  an  Inlet  to  a  good 
Reputation.  (16. )  Envy,  when  it  begins  first  to  rise,  must 
be  overcome  by  good  Offices 

PHILODOXUS,  SYMBULUS^ 

Phi.  I  promise  myself  Happiness,  that  I  have  met 
with  you,  Symbulus. 

Syni.  I  wish,  Philodoxus,  it  were  in  my  Power  to 
make  you  happy  in  any  Thing. 


1 66  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Phi.  What  can  be  more  felicitous,  than  for  God  to 
meet  a  Man  ? 

Sym.  Indeed  I  should  account  that  much  more  lucky 
than  the  Flight  of  a  thousand  Night-Owls  ;2  but  what 
God  is  it  you  Mean  ? 

Phi.  Why,  'tis  yourself  I  mean,  Symbulus. 

Sym.  What,  me  ! 

Phi.  Even  yourself. 

Sym.  I  always  thought,  that  those  Gods  that  did  their 
Business  backwards,  were  not  worth  a  Straw. 

Phi.  If  the  Proverb  be  true,  'That  he  is  a  God  that 
helps  a  Man,'3  then  you  are  a  God  to  me. 

Sym.  I  leave  the  Proverb  to  be  made  out  by  other 
People  ;  but  as  for  me,  I  would  do  any  Service  I  can  to 
my  Friend  with  all  my  Heart. 

Phi.  Well,  Symbulus,  don't  be  in  Pain,  I  an't  about  to 
borrow  any  Money  of  you  :  Counsel  is  a  sacred  Thing, 
only  give  me  your  Assistance  with  that. 

Sym.  That  is  only  demanding  what  is  your  own,  since 
this  Office  ought  to  be  mutual  among  Friends,  as  indeed 
should  every  Thing  else.  But  what  is  it  you  want  my 
Counsel  in  ? 

Phi.  I  am  weary  of  living  in  Obscurity,  I  have  a  great 
Mind  to  become  famous ;  prithee  tell  me  how  I  may 
become  so. 

Sym.  O,  here 's  a  short  Way  for  you  ;  imitate  Ero- 
stratus,  who  set  Diana's  Temple  on  Fire  ;  or  Zoilus,  who 
carpedat Homer ;  or  dosome memorable  Villainyorother ; 
and  then  you  will  be  as  famous  as  the  Cercopes  or  Nero. 

Phi.  They  that  like  it,  may  get  themselves  a  Name 
by  Impiety  ;  I  am  ambitious  of  a  good  Name. 

Sym.  Then  be  such  a  one  in  Fact,  as  you  would  be  in 
Name. 

Phi.  But  a  great  many  Persons  have  been  virtuous, 
that  were  never  famous. 

Sym.  I  question  that  ;  but  however,  if  it  be  as  you 
sav,  Virtue  is  a  sufficient  Reward  to  itself. 


The  Lover  of  Glory  167 

Phi.  You  speak  very  true,  and  much  like  a  Philo 
sopher.  But  for  all  that,  as  Times  go,  in  my  Opinion, 
Glory  is  the  chief  Reward  belonging  to  Virtue,  which 
delights  to  be  known,  as  the  Sun  does  to  shine  ;  for  this 
very  Reason,  that  it  may  benefit  a  great  many,  and  draw 
them  to  an  Imitation  of  itself.  And  then  lastly,  I  don't 
see  how  Parents  can  leave  a  fairer  Fortune  to  their 
Children,  than  the  immortal  Memory  of  a  good  Name. 

Sym.  Then,  as  I  understand  you,  you  would  have 
Glory  gotten  by  Virtue. 

Phi.  That's  the  very  Thing. 

Sym.  Then  set  before  you,  for  Imitation,  the  Men 
that  have  been  celebrated  by  the  Pens  of  all  Men,  such 
as  Aristides,  Phocion,  Socrates,  Epaminondas,  Scipio 
Africanus,  Cato  Senior,  and  Cato  of  Utica,  and  Marcus 
Brutus,  and  the  like  ;  who  both  by  War  and  Peace 
studied  to  deserve  as  well  as  possible  of  the  Common- 
Wealth.  This  is  the  fertile  Field  of  Glory. 

Phi.  But  among  those  famous  Men,  Aristides  suffered 
Banishment  for  ten  Years,  Phocion  and  Socrates  drank 
Poison,  Epaminondas  was  accused  of  Treason,  and  so 
was  Scipio ;  Cato  the  Elder  being  accus'd,  was  oblig'd 
to  plead  forty  Times  in  his  own  Defence,  Cato  of  Utica 
kill'd  himself,  and  so  did  Brutus.  But  I  would  have 
Glory  without  Envy. 

Sym.  Ay,  but  that  is  more  than  Jupiter  granted  even 
to  Hercules  himself;  for  after  he  had  tamed  so  many 
Monsters,  last  of  all  he  had  Hydra  to  engage  with  ;  and 
that  was  the  longest  Engagement  of 'em  all. 

Phi.  I  would  never  envy  Hercules  the  Glories  of  his 
Labours  ;  I  only  account  them  happy  Men  that  obtain  a 
good  Name,  not  sullied  with  Envy. 

Sym.  I  perceive  you  'd  have  a  pleasant  Life,  and  for 
that  Reason  are  afraid  of  Envy  ;  nor  are  you  in  the 
wrong,  for  that  is  one  of  the  worst  of  Monsters. 

Phi.  It  is  so. 

Sym.  Then  live  a  private  Life. 


1 68  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Phi.  But  that  is  to  be  dead,  and  not  to  live. 

Sym.  I  understand  what  you  would  be  at ;  you  would 
walk  in  the  Sun,  and  have  no  Shadow. 

Phi.  That 's  impossible. 

Sym.  And  so  it  is  equally  impossible  to  obtain  Glory, 
and  be  free  from  Envy  ;  Glory  accompanies  Well-doing, 
and  so  does  Envy  Glory. 

Phi.  But  the  old  Comedian  tells  us,  that  Glory  may 
be  without  Envy,  saying,  Ita  ut  facilliinc  sine  invidia 
laudem  invenias  et  amicos  pares. 

Sym.  If  you  will  be  content  with  that  Praise,  which 
young  Pamphilus  gain'd  by  Obsequiousness  and  Agree- 
ableness  of  Humour,  you  may  from  the  same  Place  fetch 
the  Method  of  obtaining  what  you  desire  so  earnestly. 
Remember  in  every  Thing,  Ne  quid  nimis,  [not  to  over 
do  any  Thing]  but  yet  Mediocriter  omnia,  [all  Things 
with  Moderation]  be  easy  in  bearing  with  the  Manners 
of  other  Persons,  taking  no  Notice  of  small  Faults  ;  and 
do  not  be  obstinate  and  tenacious  of  your  own  Opinion, 
but  be  conformable  to  the  Tempers  of  others  ;  don't 
contradict  any  one,  but  be  obliging  to  all. 

Phi.  Many  Persons  have  a  mighty  Affection  for 
Youth,  and  so  it  is  no  hard  Matter  to  obtain  such  Praise 
as  that.  That  which  I  would  have  is  a  certain  Glorious- 
ness  of  Name,  that  should  ring  all  the  World  over,  that 
should  increase  in  Illustriousness,  as  I  do  in  Age,  and 
be  most  renowned  after  my  Death. 

Sym.  I  commend  the  Greatness  of  your  Mind,  Philo- 
doxus  ;  but  if  you  are  ambitious  of  a  Glory  that  proceeds 
from  Virtue,  it  is  the  chiefest  Virtue  to  be  regardless  of 
Glory,  and  the  highest  Commendation  not  to  aspire  after 
Praise,  which  follows  them  most  that  endeavour  to  shun 
it.  Therefore  you  ought  to  take  Care,  lest  the  more 
strenuously  you  pursue  it,  the  more  you  be  frustrated 
of  it. 

Phi.  I  am  not  an  insensible  Stoic,  I  am  subject  to 
human  Affections. 


TJie  Lover  of  Glory  169 

Sym.  If  you  acknowledge  yourself  to  be  a  Man,  and 
don't  refuse  to  submit  to  those  Things  that  are  human, 
why  do  you  pursue  those  Things  which  are  denied,  even 
to  God  himself?  for  you  know  that  Saying  of  Theo 
critus,4  that  was  as  truly  as  it  was  wittily  sa\d,Jovem  nee 
pluvium,  nee  seremim,  placere  omnibus  •  '  That  Jupiter 
does  not  please  all  Men,  either  when  he  sends  Rain  or 
fair  Weather.' 

Phi.  Perhaps  there  is  no  Fire,  but  there  is  some 
Smoke  ;  but  yet  there  are  some  Things  that  are  without 
Smoke.  Altho'  it  be  impossible  for  a  Man  to  obtain  a 
Glory,  that  shall  not  be  obscur'd  with  some  Cloud  or 
other  of  Ill-will  ;  yet  I  believe  there  are  some  Methods 
to  be  taken,  that  there  shall  be  but  very  little  of  Enmity 
mixed  with  it. 

Sym.  Shall  I  tell  you  what  those  Methods  are? 

Phi.   I  should  be  very  glad  to  know  them. 

Sym.  Shew  your  Virtue  but  sparingly,  and  you  shall 
be  the  less  troubled  with  Envy. 

Phi.  But  Glory  is  no  Glory,  unless  it  be  notable. 

Sym.  Well,  I  '11  tell  you  a  sure  Way  :  Do  some  noble 
Exploit,  and  die  ;  and  then  you  shall  be  renown'd  with 
out  Envy,  as  the  Codri,  the  Menaecei,  the  Iphigenii,  the 
Decii  and  Curtii  were. 

Pascitur  in  vivis  livor,  post  fata  quiescit.;> 

Envy  is  maintained  among  the  Living,  but  ceases  after 
Death. 

Phi.  Indeed,  to  confess  ingenuously,  I  would  leave 
the  Inheritance  of  a  good  Name  to  my  Children  and 
Grand-Children  ;  but  I  would  have  some  Enjoyment  of 
it  myself  while  I  am  alive. 

Sym.  Well,  come,  I  won't  keep  you  any  longer  in 
Suspence.  The  surest  Way  to  obtain  an  illustrious 
Name,  is  to  deserve  well,  as  well  in  a  private  Capacity, 
of  every  particular  Person,  as  in  a  publick  Capacity,  of 
the  whole  Community  ;  and  that  is  to  be  done  partly  by 


170  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

good  Offices,  and  partly  by  Bounty  :  But  Bounty  is  so 
to  be  moderated,  as  not  to  be  obliged  to  take  away 
forcibly  from  one,  what  you  bestow  upon  another  ;  for 
from  such  Bounty  as  this,  there  arises  more  ill  Will  from 
the  good,  than  good  Will  from  the  bad.  And  besides, 
to  be  commended  by  the  bad,  is  rather  an  Infamy  than 
a  Reputation.  Moreover,  the  Fountain  of  Bounty  will 
be  drawn  dry  by  frequent  Donations  :  But  that  Bounty 
that  consists  in  good  Offices  has  no  Bottom ;  the  more 
it  is  drawn,  the  more  it  springs  :  But  there  are  a  great 
many  Things  that  mitigate  Envy,  and  illustrate  Glory  ; 
which  no  Body  can  give  to  himself,  but  they  happen 
purely  from  the  Bounty  of  God  himself. 

Gratior  est  pulcHro  venicns  e  cor  pore  virtus. 

That    Virtue  is  the  more  lovely,  that  comes  from  a 
beautiful  Body. 

But  no  Man  can  bestow  upon  himself  Comeliness  of 
Person.  Nobility  carries  along  with  it  much  of  Dignity, 
but  this  is  the  Gift  of  Fortune.  The  same  Opinion  we 
ought  to  have  of  Riches,  which  being  justly  gotten  by 
Grandfathers  or  Great-Grandfathers,  descend  to  us  by 
Inheritance.  Nor  can  any  one  bestow  this  upon  himself. 
Of  the  same  Kind  are  Quickness  of  Wit,  a  Grace  in 
Speaking,  Pleasantness  and  Courteousness,  that  is  not 
acquired,  but  in-bred  ;  and  in  the  last  Place,  a  certain 
internal  Beauty  and  Felicity  ;  the  Effect  of  which  we 
see  daily  in  a  great  many,  but  can  give  no  Reason  of  it  : 
so  that  we  often  see  the  same  Things  to  be  said  and 
done  by  different  Persons,  and  he  that  acted  and  said 
the  worst,  obtain'd  Favour,  when  he  who  did  and  said 
best,  instead  of  Thanks,  gain'd  ill  Will.  The  Antients 
indeed  ascribed  this  Effect  to  Men's  Genius  ;  for  they 
said  that  every  one  was  fortunate  in  that  which  he  was 
born  to  ;  and,  on  the  other  Hand,  whatsoever  any  one 
attempted  against  the  Grain,  and  the  Consent  of  his 
Genius,0  would  never  succeed. 


The  Lover  of  Glory  1 7 1 

Phi.  Then  here  is  no  Room  for  Advice  in  this  Case. 

Sym.  Very  little  :  But  yet  Persons  of  Penetration  do 
discover  in  Children  and  Youth  some  secret  Marks,  by 
which  they  can  conjecture  what  Studies,  what  Sort  of 
Life,  and  what  Actions  they  are  fitted  for.  So  also  as 
to  those  Things  that  are  good,  there  is  a  certain  secret 
Instinct  of  Nature  in  us,  that  we  have  an  Aversion  for 
some  Things,  without  any  apparent  Cause,  and  are 
carried  on  with  a  wonderful  Propensity  to  others. 
Hence  it  is  that  one  is  an  expert  Soldier,  another  a  good 
Politician,  and  another,  you  would  say,  was  born  to  be  a 
Student.  And  in  these  Things  too,  there  is  an  admirable 
Variety,  as  great  as  is  the  Diversity  of  Employments. 
Nature  has  framed  one  for  a  General,  another  for  a 
good  common  Soldier ;  and  where  Nature  has  been 
most  bountiful,  there  the  same  Person  may  be  fit  to 
command  or  obey,  as  Homer  says.  So  likewise  in  civil 
Affairs,  one  is  a  good  Counsellor ;  another  a  good 
Barrister ;  another  is  made  for  an  Ambassador,  and 
performs  that  Office  with  great  Success.  What  Need  is 
there  to  mention  the  Variety  of  Inclinations  ?  There  are 
some  who  are  so  strongly  inclined  to  a  monastick  Life, 
and  yet  not  every  one  neither,  but  to  this  or  that  parti 
cular  Order,  that  they  take  no  Pleasure  of  their  Lives,  if 
they  do  not  attain  it ;  when,  on  the  other  Hand,  others 
have  so  strong  an  Aversion  for  that  Sort  of  Life,  that 
they  had  rather  die  than  be  made  Monks  :  Nor  is  this 
because  they  hate  that  Way  of  Living,  or  can  give  any 
Reason  for  it,  but  by  some  secret  Instinct  in  Nature. 

Phi.  As  you  say,  I  have  often  found  many  such 
Instances,  and  have  admired  at  them. 

Sym.  In  these  Gifts  that  Nature  liberally  bestows 
upon  us,  a  Person  shall  be  much  less  liable  to  Envy,  if  a 
Man  be  not  proud  and  ostentatious.  Beauty,  Nobility, 
Wealth,  Eloquence,  appear  the  most  lovely  in  those 
Persons  that  seem  not  to  know  they  are  endow'cl  with 
them.  Courtesy  and  Modesty  do  no  Way  lessen  these 


172  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Advantages ;  but  as  they  add  a  Grace  to  them,  so  they 
drive  away  Envy.  And  this  Courtesy  and  Sweetness  of 
Temper  ought  to  go  along  with  all  the  Actions  of  our 
Lives,  unless  it  be  contrary  to  our  Nature  ;  for,  in  my 
Opinion,  Xenocrates  would  have  attempted  in  vain  that 
which  Socrates  and  Diogenes  succeeded  in  ;  Cato  the 
Censor  would  in  vain  have  endeavour'd  after  that  which 
gain'd  Laelius  so  much  good  Will.  Yet  Demea  in 
Terence  being  alter'd  so  on  a  sudden,  is  a  sufficient 
Instance  of  what  Efficacy  it  is  in  gaining  good  Will,  to 
suit  ourselves  with  Persons  Inclinations  and  Humours  : 
but  as  often  as  Men  deviate  from  Right,  they  degenerate 
from  true  Glory  to  the  temporary  Favour  of  Man  ;  but 
that  Glory  only  is  lasting,  which  is  founded  upon 
Honesty,  and  comes  from  the  Judgment  of  Reason  : 
For  the  Affections  make  their  temporary  Efforts,  and 
when  they  have  once  spent  themselves,  we  begin  to  hate 
what  before  we  loved  vehemently,  and  hiss  what  before 
we  clapp'd,  and  condemn  what  before  we  commended  : 
But  tho'  the  Disposition  can't  be  wholly  alter'd,  yet  it 
may  in  Part  be  corrected. 

Phi.  I  want  to  hear  what  you  aim  at. 

Sym.  He  that  is  of  a  complaisant  Temper,  ought  to 
be  careful,  lest  while  he  labours  to  ingratiate  himself 
with  all  Persons,  he  deviates  from  Honesty :  and  lest, 
while  he  endeavours  to  accommodate  himself  to  all 
Company,  he  changes  his  Shape  so  often,  that  none  can 
tell  what  to  make  of  him. 

Phi.  I  know  a  great  many  such  slippery  Blades,  at 
whose  Vanity  one  cannot  forbear  blushing. 

Sym.  But  then  again,  they  who  are  of  a  rugged 
Temper,  ought  to  endeavour  so  to  affect  Courtesy,  as 
that  what  they  do  may  not  seem  to  be  counterfeit ;  or 
by  ever  and  anon  falling  into  their  natural  Propensity, 
instead  of  Commendation  get  a  double  Disgrace,  first 
for  acting  rigidly,  and  then  for  being  inconsistent  with 
themselves.  For  Constancy  has  so  great  an  Efficacy, 


The  Lover  of  Glory  173 

that  they  who  are  naturally  of  a  bad  Temper,  are  the 
easier  borne  with  for  this  Reason,  because  they  always 
act  like  themselves  ;  for  as  soon  as  the  Disguise  is  seen 
thro',  even  Things  that  have  been  well  acted  become 
displeasing  :  And  besides,  that  which  is  done  under  a 
Colour,  can't  be  kept  always  conceal'd  ;  it  will  come 
out  one  Time  or  other,  and  whenever  it  does,  all 
the  gay  Appearance  drops  off,  and  becomes  a  mere 
Jest. 

Phi.  If  I  take  in  your  Intention,  you  would  have  one 
depart  as  little  as  may  be  from  Nature,  but  not  at  all 
from  Integrity ;  (that  which  is  honest  is  honourable.) 

Sym.  You  are  right ;  and  besides,  you  know  very 
well,  that  whatsoever  grows  famous  on  a  sudden,  lies 
exposed  to  Envy.  And  thence  comes  the  odious  Name 
of  an  Upstart,  call'd  by  the  Greeks  vfoirXovros  ;  and  by 
the  Romans,  Novus  homo  ;  and  by  both,  Terra;  filii 
[Sons  of  the  Earth],  and  Ciclo  delapsi  [dropt  out  of  the 
Clouds].  But  that  Reputation  that  springs  up  gently, 
and  grows  gradually,  as  on  the  one  Side  it  is  less  liable 
to  Envy,  so  on  the  other  it  is  commonly  more  durable  ; 
as  the  witty  Poet  Horace  intimates,  saying,  Crescit 
occulto  velut  arbor  ccvo  fama  Marcelli1  [Marcellus's 
Fame  grows  insensibly  like  a  Tree]  :  So  that  if  you 
would  obtain  Glory  that  is  true,  lasting,  and  as  little  as 
may  be  obnoxious  to  Envy,  mind  what  Socrates  says, 
that  it  often  happens  that  they  who  make  the  most 
Haste  at  first  setting  out,  come  latest  to  their  Journey's 
End. 

Phi.  But  the  Life  of  Man  is  very  short. 

Sym.  For  that  Reason  we  should  use  Expedition 
towards  good  Deeds,  and  not  Glory;  and  that  will 
follow  necessarily  of  its  own  Accord  :  For  I  suppose 
what  you  enquire  after,  is  not  how  you  may  live  long ; 
for  that  is  in  the  Breasts  of  the  Destinies,  who  draw  out 
and  cut  off  the  Thread  of  Life  at  their  Pleasure. 

Phi.  I  wish  you  could  do  that  too. 


174  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Sym.  O  Philodoxus  !  God  has  never  been  so  bountiful 
as  to  give  all  to  one  Man  :  What  one  wants  in  Years,  is 
often  made  up  in  Honour.  There  are  indeed  some,  but 
those  very  few,  to  whom  he  is  so  bountiful,  that  while 
they  are  alive  and  as  it  were  in  being,  they  enjoy  the 
Fruits  of  Posterity  ;  tho'  they  are  but  few  that  the  just 
God  loves.  Perhaps  some  of  a  divine  Descent  have 
attain'd  this  ;  but  this  Felicity  does  not  fall  under  our 
Consideration. 

Phi.  I  have  often  admired  whether  it  is  by  the  Malig 
nity  of  Nature  or  Fortune,  that  no  Conveniences  happen 
to  Mankind,  without  being  allayed  with  some  Incon 
venience. 

Sym.  My  Friend,  what  then  have  we  to  do,  but,  as 
we  are  of  human  Race,  to  endeavour  to  bear  our  human 
Condition  with  a  contented  Mind  ?  And  it  will  not  a 
little  conduce  to  moderate  Envy,  if  you  do  but  look 
thoroughly  into  the  Dispositions  of  Nations,  of  Bodies 
of  Men,  and  single  Persons  ;  as  they  do  who  make  it 
their  Business  to  tame  and  feed  Beasts ;  for  such  Per 
sons  make  it  their  chief  Study  to  find  out  by  what 
Things  the  Animal  is  made  fierce,  or  becomes  tame.  I 
don't  at  present  speak  of  the  Difference  between  a  Bird 
and  a  four-footed  Beast,  between  a  Serpent  and  a  Fish  ; 
or  between  the  Eagle  and  the  Vulture,  between  the 
Elephant  and  the  Horse,  between  the  Dolphin  and  the 
Porpoise,  between  a  Viper  and  an  Asp ;  but  of  the 
innumerable  Variety  that  is  between  all  Kinds  of 
Animals. 

Phi.  I  would  fain  hear  what  you  drive  at. 

Sym.  All  Dogs  are  contain'd  under  one  Species,  but 
this  Species  is  diversify'd  into  innumerable  Forms,  so 
that  you  would  say  there  were  so  many  distinct  Genus's, 
rather  than  one  Species  :  For  in  the  same  Species, 
what  a  great  Variety  is  there  of  Manners  and  Tempers  ? 

Phi.  A  very  great  one  indeed  ! 

Sym.  That  which  is  said  of  Dogs,  you  may  under- 


The  Lover  of  Glory  175 

stand  of  all  other  living  Creatures  ;  but  it  is  not  visible 
in  any  other  Creature  so  much  as  in  Horses. 

Phi.  'Tis  true  :  But  what  do  you  mean  by  all  this  ? 

Sym.  Whatsoever  Variety  there  is  in  the  Different 
Kinds  or  Forms  of  living  Creatures,  or  in  Individuals, 
suppose  the  same  to  be  in  Man  :  among  them  you  will 
find  Wolves  of  various  Kinds,  Dogs  in  an  unspeakable 
Variety,  Elephants,  Camels,  Asses,  Lions,  Sheep,  Vipers, 
Apes,  Dragons,  Eagles,  Vultures,  Swallows,  Leeches  ; 
and  what  not  ? 

Phi.  But  what  of  all  that  ? 

Sym.  There  is  no  living  Creature  so  fierce,  but,  being 
managed  by  Art,  it  may  be  made  useful,  or  at  least  not 
hurtful. 

Phi.  I  can't  for  my  Life  see  what  you  drive  at. 

Sym.  There  is  a  Difference  between  a  Spaniard,  an 
Italian,  a  German,  a  Frenchman,  and  an  Englishman. 

Phi.  There  is  so. 

Sym.  Besides,  there  is  in  every  single  Man  of  these 
several  Nations,  a  certain  Temper  peculiar  to  himself. 

Phi    I  confess  it. 

Sym  If  you  shall  nicely  observe  this  Variety,  and 
accommodate  yourself  to  each  of  their  Manners,  you 
will  easily  bring  it  about,  that  they  will  either  all  be 
your  Friends,  or  at  least  that  none  of  them  will  be  your 
Enemies. 

Phi.  What,  would  you  have  me  to  be  a  Polypus  ; 
where  is  Honesty  and  Sincerity  in  the  mean  Time? 

Sym.  There  is  in  all  common  Affairs  a  certain 
Obsequiousness  that  does  in  no  wise  intrench  upon 
Honesty ;  as  for  Instance,  in  Italy  Men  kiss  one 
another,  which  would  be  look'd  upon  very  absurd  to  do 
in  Germany  ;  but  instead  of  that,  they  give  you  their 
right  Hand.  Again,  in  England,  it  is  the  Custom  for 
Men  to  kiss  the  Women,  even  at  Church  :  but  if  you 
should  do  this  in  Italy,  it  would  be  accounted  a  high 
Crime.  Again,  in  England  it  is  accounted  a  Piece  of 


176  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Civility  to  give  the  Cup  to  one  that  comes  in  when  you 
are  at  Dinner ;  but  in  France,  it  is  look'd  upon  as  an 
Affront.  In  these  and  the  like  Cases  Persons  may  be 
complaisant,  without  any  Detriment  to  Honesty. 

Phi.  But  it  is  a  very  hard  Matter  to  be  acquainted 
with  the  Manners  and  Tempers  of  every  Man  of  all 
Nations. 

Sym.  'Tis  true,  Philodoxus  :  But  if  you  would  obtain 
a  considerable  Reputation,  and  that  by  Virtue,  you  must 
of  Necessity  exercise  no  common  Virtue.  You  know 
Virtue  is  conversant  in  Difficulties,  as  old  Hesiod  taught 
before  the  Peripateticks  ; 8  and  therefore  if  you  have  a 
Mind  to  eat  Honey,  you  must  be  content  to  bear  with 
the  Trouble  of  Bees, 

Phi.  I  know  that,  and  remember  it  very  well ;  but 
that  we  are  in  Quest  of,  is,  how  to  moderate  Envy. 

Sym.  Then  do  you  endeavour  that  in  the  Camp  you 
rather  chuse  to  be  a  common  Soldier  than  a  General, 
and  in  such  a  War  as  is  against  Enemies  who  are 
Foreigners,  rather  than  your  Fellow-Citizens  and 
Countrymen.  In  Government  rather  chuse  those 
Offices  which  are  popular  and  ingratiating ;  as  to 
defend  is  more  popular  than  to  accuse,  to  honour  than 
to  punish.  But  if  any  Case  happen,  as  it  sometimes 
necessarily  will,  that  is  troublesome  in  its  Nature,  if  you 
can't  avoid  acting  in  it,  make  it  as  easy  as  you  can  by 
Moderation. 

Phi.  How  must  that  be  done  ? 

Sym.  Suppose  you  are  a  Judge,  or  an  Arbitrator,  you 
must  bear  something  hard  upon  one  Party  or  another  ; 
but  be  sure  to  manage  the  Matter  with  so  much  Equity, 
that,  if  it  be  possible,  he  that  you  give  the  Cause 
against,  may  give  you  Thanks. 

Phi.  How  must  that  be  manag'd  ? 

Sym.  Suppose  the  Action  be  to  be  laid  for  Theft  or 
Sacrilege  ;  if  it  be  in  your  Power,  mitigate  it,  and  let  it 
be  laid  for  a  Trespass  ;  and  by  this  Means  you  may 


The  Lover  of  Glory  1 77 

ease  the  Defendant,  and  do  no  Injury  to  the  Plaintiff. 
In  short,  moderate  every  Cause  so,  that  without  injuring 
the  Plaintiff,  you  may  seem  to  act  justly  to  the  De 
fendant  ;  and  lastly,  make  the  condemn'd  Person's 
Sentence  as  easy  as  may  be.  And  all  the  while  take 
Care  to  avoid  surly  Looks,  or  sour  or  morose  Words  ; 
for  they  often  are  the  Cause  that  some  Persons  will  owe 
you  more  ill  Will  for  doing  them  a  Courtesy,  than  others 
shall  for  denying  them  one.  Sometimes  you  ought  to 
admonish  a  Friend  ;  but  if  there  are  no  Hopes  of  his 
being  the  better  by  it,  it  is  better  to  be  silent.  If  it  be 
a  weighty  Case,  and  there  be  any  Hope  of  doing  Good, 
then  it  is  of  great  Moment  what  the  Admonition  is  ;  for 
it  often  falls  out  that  Admonition  being  either  unhand 
some  or  unseasonable,  exasperates  the  Disease,  and 
makes  a  Friend  an  Enemy.  But  this  Dexterity  is  most 
necessary  if  you  admonish  a  Prince  ;  for  sometimes  it 
falls  out,  that  their  Humours  must  be  contradicted  ;  and 
if  it  be  done  pleasantly  and  wittily,  afterwards  they  that 
contradicted  have  greater  Thanks  given  them,  than 
they  that  soothed  them  :  For  that  which  is  grateful  to 
the  Passion  is  of  short  Continuance,  but  what  is  done 
with  Reason,  is  approved  always  ;  for  the  far  greater 
Part  of  ill  Will  arises  from  the  Unruliness  of  the  Tongue. 
How  much  Mischief  does  sometimes  a  single  Word 
bring  upon  some  Persons  ?  how  many  has  an  ill-timed 
Jest  brought  to  Ruin  ?  Therefore  when  you  commend 
any  Person,  let  it  be  those  that  are  worthy,  and 
sparingly  ;  but  be  more  sparing  in  reflecting  on  any 
one,  if  you  do  reflect  at  all.  And  then  again,  you  must 
avoid  Talkativeness,  for  it  is  a  very  hard  Matter  to  talk 
much,  and  to  the  Purpose. 

Phi.  I  agree  to  all  these  Things  ;  but,  in  my  Opinion, 
the  chief  Way  of  making  one's  Name  famous,  is  to  write 
Books. 

Sym.  You  say  yery  right  ;  it  is,  were  it  not  that  there 
are  so  many  Authors  :  But  if  you  are  for  doing  it  that 

VOL.  1IJ,  M 


1 78  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Way,  take  Care  you  write  with  a  great  Deal  of  Exact 
ness,  rather  than  much ;  and  in  the  first  Place,  chuse 
some  Argument  that  is  not  common,  that  has  been 
touch'd  on  but  by  very  few,  and  such  a  one  that  is  not 
of  an  invidious  Nature  :  and  bestow  upon  it  all  the 
curious  Observations  that  you  have  been  collecting  for 
many  Years,  and  then  treat  on  it  in  such  a  Manner  that 
may  be  both  profitable  and  pleasant. 

Phi.  You  give  me  very  prudent  Advice,  and  such  as 
would  be  to  my  Satisfaction,  if  you  went  one  Step 
further,  and  told  me  how  I  might  attain  this  Glory 
quickly  too  ;  for  I  see  a  great  many  that  don't  grow 
famous  till  they  are  going  out  of  the  World,  and  others 
not  till  they  are  gone  out  of  it. 

Sym.  As  to  that,  I  have  no  better  Advice  to  give  you, 
than  that  which  the  Fidler  gave  his  Fellow9 :  See  that 
you  approve  yourself  to  those  that  have  already  attain'd 
such  a  Glory  as  has  repell'd  Envy  :  Let  yourself  into 
the  Familiarity  of  such  Persons  whose  good  Word  will 
gain  you  Esteem  with  the  Populace. 

Phi.  But  if  notwithstanding  all  this  I  be  attack'd  with 
Envy,  what  Remedy  do  you  prescribe  ? 

Sym.  Then  do  as  they  do  who  boil  Pitch  ;  if  it  catch 
Fire  they  pour  Water  upon  it,  and  then  it  will  rage  and 
crackle  more  if  you  don't  keep  on  doing  so. 

Phi.  What  Sort  of  Riddle  is  that  ? 

Sym.  When  you  perceive  Envy  arising,  rather  over 
come  it  by  Benefits  than  Revenge.  Hercules  was 
never  the  better  for  cutting  off  the  Hydra's  Heads  ;  it 
was  by  the  Greek  Fire  that  he  overcame  the  destroying 
Monster. 

Phi.  But  what  is  that  you  call  the  Greek  Fire  ? 10 

Sym.  That  which  burns  in  the  Middle  of  the  Water. 
He  applies  that  who  being  provok'd  by  the  Injuries  of 
ill  Men,  nevertheless  does  not  give  over  doing  good  to, 
all  that  deserve  it. 


The  Lover  of  Glory  1 79 

Phi.  What 's  that  you  mean  ?  is  Beneficence  some 
times  Water,  and  sometimes  Fire? 

Sym.  Why  not  ?  when  Christ  by  Way  of  Allegory 
is  sometimes  a  Sun,  sometimes  a  Fire,  sometimes  a 
Stone.  I  said  so  for  the  Purpose  ;  if  you  know  any 
Thing  better,  make  Use  of  it,  and  don't  follow  my 
Advice. 


OPULENTIA  SORDIDA,  OR  THE 
WEALTHY  MISER 


THE   ARGUMENT 

Opulentia  Sordida  relates  the  wretched  Miserliness  of  a 
certain  rich  Miser  ;  by  which  is  set  forth  how  Misers 
live.  In  Winter-Time  they  make  their  Fires  of  green 
Roots  of  Trees,  which  produce  scarce  either  Flame  or 
Smoke.  There  is  scarce  any  sleeping  for  the  Fleas  and 
Bugs.  They  mix  their  Wine  with  Water.  The  Lees  of 
Wine  produce  the  Gravel  in  the  Kidneys.  They  buy 
damaged  Corn,  and  mix  it  with  a  third  Part  of  Chalk. 
They  eat  no  Breakfast,  put  off  their  Dinner  till  After 
noon,  and  go  to  Supper  near  Midnight.  The  mean 
Provision  of  the  Table.  They  buy  the  worst  of  Meat. 
Persons  of  lean  Bodies  and  weak  Constitutions  should 
not  fast.  That  Diet  has  a  great  Influence  for  the 
Preservation  of  Health 


Ja.  How  comes  it  about  that  you  are  so  lean  and 
meagre  ?  you  look  as  if  you  had  liv'd  upon  Dew  with 
the  Grasshopper ;  you  seem  to  be  nothing  but  a  mere 
Skeleton.1 

Gil.  In  the  Regions  below,  the  Ghosts  feed  upon 
Leeks  and  Mallows ;  but  I  have  been  these  ten  Months 
where  I  could  not  come  at  so  much  as  them. 

Ja.  Where  is  that,  prithee?  what,  have  you  been  in 
the  Galleys? 

Gil.  No,  I  have  been  at  Synodium.2 

Ja.  What,  starv'd  to  Death  almost  in  so  plentiful  a 
Country? 

Gil.  'Tis  true  as  I  tell  you. 


The  Wealthy  Miser  iSl 

Ja.  What  was  the  Occasion  of  it  ?  what,  had  you  no 
Money  ? 

Gil.  I  neither  wanted  Money  nor  Friends. 

Ja.  What  the  Mischief  was  the  Matter  then  ? 

Gil,  Why,  you  must  know  I  boarded  with  Antronius.3 

Ja.  What,  with  that  rich  old  Cuff? 

Gil.  Yes,  with  that  sordid  Hunks.4 

Ja.  'Tis  very  strange,  methinks. 

Gil.  Not  strange  at  all ;  for  by  this  sordid  Way  of 
living,  they  that  have  little  or  nothing  to  begin  the 
World  with,  scrape  together  so  much  Wealth. 

Ja.  But  how  came  you  to  take  a  Fancy  to  live  for  so 
many  Months  with  such  a  Landlord? 

Gil.  There  was  a  certain  Affair  that  oblig'd  me  to  it, 
and  I  had  a  Fancy  so  to  do  likewise. 

Ja.  But  prithee  tell  me  after  what  Manner  he  lives. 

Gil.  I  '11  tell  you,  since  'tis  a  Pleasure  to  recount  the 
Hardships  one  has  sustain'd. 

Ja.  It  will  certainly  be  a  Pleasure  to  me  to  hear  it. 

Gil.  Providence  so  order'd  it,  that  the  Wind  sat  full 
North  for  three  Months  together,  only  it  did  not  blow 
from  the  same  Point  above  eight  Days  together  ;  but  I 
can't  tell  the  Reason  of  it. 

Ja.  How  then  could  it  blow  North  for  three  Months 
together  ? 

Gil.  Why,  upon  the  eighth  Day,  as  if  by  Agreement, 
it  shifted  its  Station  ;  where,  after  it  had  continu'd  some 
seven  or  eight  Hours,  then  it  veer'd  to  the  old  Point 
again. 

Ja.  In  such  a  Place  as  that  your  Callicoe  Body  had 
Need  have  a  good  Fire  to  keep  it  warm. 

Gil.  We  had  had  Fire  enough,  if  we  had  but  had 
Wood  enough  :  but  our  Landlord  Antronius,  to  save 
Charges,  us'd  to  grub  up  old  Stumps  of  Trees  in  the 
Common,  that  no  Body  thought  worth  While  to  get  but 
himself;  and  would  get  them  by  Night  :  And  of  these, 
green  as  they  were,  our  Fire  was  commonly  made,  which 


1 8  2  Colloqu  ies  of  Erasm  us 

us'd  to  smoke  plentifully,  but  would  not  flame  out  ;  so 
that  tho'  it  did  not  warm  us  at  all,  yet  we  could  not  say 
there  was  no  Fire.  One  of  these  Fires  would  last  us  a 
whole  Day,  they  burnt  so  deliberately. 

Ja.  This  was  a  bad  Place  for  a  Man  to  pass  the 
Winter  in. 

Gil.  It  was  so  ;  but  it  was  a  great  Deal  worse  to  pass 
a  Summer  in. 

Ja.  Why  so  ? 

Gil.  Because  there  was  such  a  Multitude  of  Fleas  and 
Bugs,  that  there  was  no  being  quiet  in  the  Day-Time, 
nor  sleeping  in  the  Night. 

Ja.  What  a  wretched  Wealth  was  here  ! 

Gil.  Few  were  wealthier  in  this  Sort  of  Cattle. 

fa.  Sure  your  Women  were  lazy  Sluts. 

Gil.  They  were  mew'd  up  in  an  Apartment  by  them 
selves,  and  seldom  came  among  the  Men  ;  so  that  you 
have  nothing  of  'em  but  the  Name  of  Women  :  And  the 
Men  are  forc'd  to  go  without  those  Services  which 
properly  belong  to  that  Sex  in  others  Families. 

Ja.  But  how  could  Antronius  away  with  all  this 
Nastiness  ? 

Gil.  Pshaw,  he  was  us'd  to  it  from  his  Cradle,  and 
minded  nothing  in  the  World  but  getting  of  Money. 
He  lov'd  to  be  any  where  but  at  Home,  and  traded  in 
every  Thing  you  can  think  of.  You  know  that  City  is  a 
great  Town,  of  the  greatest  Commerce  and  Business  : 
What's-his-Name  the  famous  Painter  thought  that  Day 
was  lost,  wherein  he  did  not  employ  his  Pencil6;  and 
our  Antronius  look'd  upon  himself  undone,  if  one  single 
Day  pass'd  over  his  Head  without  some  Profit.  And  if 
such  a  Disaster  happen'd  to  him,  he  did  not  fail  one 
Way  or  other  to  make  it  up  at  Home. 

Ja.  What  did  he  do  ? 

Gil.  Why,  he  had  a  Cistern  of  Water  in  the  House, 
as  most  People  in  that  City  have,  whence  he  us'd  to 
draw  so  many  Buckets  of  Water,  and  put  it  into  his 


The  Wealthy  Miser  183 

Hogsheads    of    Wine.       This    was    a    most     certain 
Profit. 

Ja.  I  suppose  the  Wine  was  something  of  the  strongest 
then  ? 

Gil.  Far  from  that,  for  it  was  as  dead  as  Ditch-Water  ; 
for  he  never  bought  any  but  what  was  decay'd  to  his 
Hand,  that  he  might  buy  it  at  an  easier  Rate  :  And  that 
he  might  not  lose  a  Drop  of  this,  he  us'd  to  mix  and 
jumble  the  Grounds  of  at  least  ten  Years  standing,  and 
set  them  a-fermenting,  that  it  might  pass  for  new  Wine 
upon  the  Lees  ;  and  would  not  lose  a  Drop  of  the  Dregs 
neither. 

Ja.  If  we  may  believe  the  Physicians,  such  Wine  will 
certainly  breed  the  Stone. 

Gil.  There  were  no  Doctors  there,  I  '11  assure  you  : 
and  in  the  most  healthful  Years,  two  or  three  at  least  of 
the  Family  died  of  that  Distemper ;  but  he  never 
troubled  his  Head  about  that,  how  many  Burials  went 
out  of  the  House. 

Ja.  No? 

Gil.  He  made  a  Penny  even  of  the  Dead.  And  there 
was  no  Gain  he  was  asham'd  to  take,  tho'  it  was  never 
so  small. 

Ja.  Under  your  Favour  this  was  downright  Theft  tho'. 

Gil.  Your  Merchants  term  it,  turning  an  honest  Penny. 

Ja.  But  what  Sort  of  Liquor  did  Antronius  drink  all 
the  While  ? 

Gil.  Almost  the  very  same  Nectar  that  I  told  you  of. 

Ja.  Did  he  find  no  Harm  by  it  ? 

Gil.  He  was  as  hard  as  a  Flint,  he  could  have  lived 
upon  chopt  Hay  ;  and,  as  I  told  you  before,  he  had  been 
us'd  to  fare  hard  from  his  Infancy.  And  he  look'd  upon 
this  dashing  and  brewing  to  be  a  certain  Profit  to  him. 

Ja.  How  so,  I  beseech  you  ? 

Gil.  If  you  reckon  his  Wife,  his  Sons,  his  Daughters, 
his  Son-in-Law,  his  Men-Servants,  and  his  Maid- 
Servants,  he  had  about  thirty-three  Mouths  in  the 


184  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Family  to  feed.  Now  the  more  he  corrected  his  Wine 
with  Water,  the  less  of  it  was  drunk,  and  the  longer  it 
was  drawing  off;  so  then  if  you  compute  a  large  Bucket 
of  Water  thrown  in  every  Day,  it  will  amount  to  no 
small  Sum,  let  me  tell  you,  at  the  Year's  End. 

Ja.  A  sordid  Fellow  ! 

Gil.  This  was  not  all,  he  made  the  same  Advantage 
of  his  Bread  too. 

Ja.  How  could  he  do  that  ? 

Gil.  He  bought  musty  Wheat,  such  as  no  Body  else 
would  buy  but  himself.  Now,  in  the  first  Place,  here 
was  a  present  Gain,  because  he  bought  it  so  much 
cheaper  ;  and  then  he  had  an  Art  to  cure  the  Mustiness. 

Ja.  But  prithee  how  did  he  do  that  ? 

Gil.  There  is  a  Sort  of  Chalk,  not  altogether  unlike  to 
Corn,  which  you  may  see  Horses  are  delighted  with, 
when  they  gnaw  it  out  of  the  Walls,  and  drink  more 
freely  out  of  that  Pond-Water  where  this  Chalk  is  to  be 
found.  He  mixed  one  third  Part  at  least  of  this  Earth 
with  his  Bread. 

Ja.  And  do  you  call  this  curing  of  it  ? 

Gil.  This  is  certain,  that  it  made  the  Mustiness  of  the 
Corn  be  not  altogether  so  perceiveable ;  and  now,  was 
not  this  a  considerable  Profit  ?  He  had  another  Strata 
gem  besides  that,  for  he  bak'd  his  own  Bread  at  Home, 
which,  in  the  very  Midst  of  Summer,  he  never  did  oftener 
than  twice  in  a  Month. 

Ja.  Sure  it  must  be  more  like  Stones  than  Bread  for 
Hardness  ? 

Gil.  Nay,  harder  than  a  Stone,  if  possible  ;  but  we 
had  a  Remedy  for  that  too. 

Ja.  What  was  that  ? 

Gil.  We  us'd  to  soke  Slices  of  this  Bread  in  Bowls  of 
Wine. 

Ja.  'The  Devil  a  Barrel  the  better  Herring.'6  But 
how  did  the  Servants  like  this  Treatment? 

Gil.    I  will   first  tell   you    how  the  top    Folks  of  the 


The  Wealthy  Miser  185 

Family  were  serv'd,  and  then  you  may  easily  guess  how 
the  Servants  far'd. 

Ja.  I  long  to  hear  it. 

Gil.  There  was  not  a  Word  to  be  mention'd  about 
Breakfast  ;  and  as  for  Dinner  that  was  generally 
deferr'd  till  one  of  the  Clock  in  the  Afternoon. 

Ja.  Why  so  ? 

Gil.  We  waited  for  the  Master  of  the  Family's 
coming  Home,  and  then  we  seldom  went  to  Supper 
before  ten. 

Ja.  But  how  did  you  bear  it  ?  you  us'd  to  be  very 
impatient  for  your  Victuals. 

Gil.  I  call'd  ever  and  anon  upon  Orthrogonus,  our 
Landlord's  Son-in-Law,  who  lay  upon  the  same  Floor 
with  myself:  'Soho,  Monsieur,'  said  I,  'do  you  make  no 
Dining  to  Day  at  Synodium  ? '  He  answer'd, '  Antronius 
will  be  here  in  a  Minute.'  Then  finding  not  the  least 
Motion  towards  Dinner,  and  my  Guts  very  mutinous  ; 
'Hark  you,  Orthrogonus,'  said  I,  'do  you  design  to 
starve  us  to  Day  ? '  Then  he  would  persuade  me  it  was 
not  so  late,  or  put  me  off  with  some  such  Pretence. 
Then,  not  being  able  to  bear  the  Bawling  my  Bowels 
made,  I  interrupted  him  again:  'What  do  you  mean,1 
said  I,  'to  starve  us  to  Death?'  When  he  found  he 
had  no  more  Excuses  to  make,  he  went  down  to  the 
Servants,  and  order'd  them  to  lay  the  Cloth.  But  at 
last,  when  no  Antronius  came,  and  Dinner  seem'd  to  be 
as  far  off  as  ever,  Orthrogonus,  wearied  with  the  Noise 
I  made  in  his  Ears,  went  to  the  Apartment  where  his 
Wife  and  Mother,  and  Children  were,  bidding  them  get 
Dinner  ready. 

Ja.  Well,  now  I  expect  to  hear  of  the  Dinner. 

Gil.  Pray  don't  be  so  hasty.  Then  there  came  a  lame 
Fellow,  just  such  another  as  Vulcan,  who  laid  the  Cloth, 
for  that  it  seems  was  his  Province ;  this  was  the  first 
Hope  we  had  of  Dinner  ;  and  at  last,  after  I  had  bawl'd 
a  long  Time,  a  Gkibs  Bottle  of  fair  Water  is  brought  in. 


1 88  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

catch  a  small  Sort  of  Shell-Fish,  most  commonly  on  the 
Shores,  and  cry  them  about  the  Streets,  and  he'd  now 
and  then  buy  an  Halfpennyworth  of  these  ;  then  you'd 
swear  there  had  been  a  Wedding-Dinner  in  the  Family  : 
There  was  a  Fire  made  in  the  Kitchen,  tho'  not  very 
much  of  it  neither,  for  these  don't  ask  much  boiling  ; 
and  these  Dainties  come  always  after  the  Cheese, 
instead  of  a  Dessert. 

Ja.  A  very  fine  Dessert  indeed  !  But  do  you  never 
use  to  have  any  Flesh  or  Fish  ? 

Gil.  At  last  the  old  Gentleman  being  overcome  by  my 
clamouring,  began  to  live  a  little  more  nobly ;  and 
whenever  he  had  a  Mind  to  show  his  Generosity  in  good 
Earnest,  this  was  our  Bill  of  Fare. 

Ja.  I  long  to  hear  what  that  is. 

Gil.  Imprimis,  we  had  a  Dish  of  Soop  which  they  call 
a  Service,  but  I  don't  know  why. 

Ja.  A  very  rich  one,  I  suppose. 

Gil.  Very  high  season'd  with  the  following  Spices  : 
They  took  you  a  large  Kettle  of  Water,  and  set  it  over 
the  Fire  ;  into  this  they  fling  a  good  Quantity  of  skim'd- 
Milk  Cheese,  grown  as  hard  as  a  Brick-Bat,  that  you  can 
scarce  cut  it  with  an  Hatchet ;  and  when  these  Frag 
ments  of  Cheese  grow  a  little  softer  by  soaking  and 
seething,  they  alter  the  Property  of  the  Liquor,  that  it  is 
not  then  fair  Water  :  Now  this  Soop  is  serv'd  in  as  a 
Preparative  for  the  Stomach. 

Ja.  This  was  a  Soop  for  Sows. 

Gil.  And  the  next  Course  is  a  Piece  of  stale  Tripe, 
that  has  been  boil'd  a  Fortnight. 

Ja.  Why,  then  it  must  needs  stink  ? 

Gil.  It  does  stink,  but  they  have  a  Remedy  for  that 
too. 

Ja.  What  is  that,  pray  ? 

Gil.  I  would  tell  you,  but  I  'm  afraid  you  '11  put  it  into 
Practice. 

Ja.  Ay,  marry,  Sir  1 


The  Wealthy  Miser  189 

Gil.  They  would  take  an  Egg  and  beat  it  up  in  warm 
Water,  and  daub  the  Tripe  over  with  the  Liquor ;  and 
so  they  put  the  Cheat  upon  the  Eye  indeed,  but  can't 
cheat  the  Nose,  for  the  Stink  will  force  its  Way  thro' 
all.  If  it  happen'd  to  be  a  Fish-Day,  we  had  sometimes 
three  Whitings,  and  but  small  ones  neither,  altho'  there 
were  seven  or  eight  of  us  at  Table. 

Ja.  What,  nothing  else  ? 

Gil.  Nothing  but  that  Cheese,  as  hard  as  a  Stone. 

Ja.  The  oddest  Epicure  I  ever  heard  of.  But  how 
could  so  slender  Provision  be  enough  for  so  many 
Guests  of  you,  and  especially  not  having  eat  any 
Breakfast? 

Gil.  Well,  to  satisfy  you,  I  tell  you,  that  the  Remainder 
fed  the  Mother-in-Law,  the  Daughter-in-Law,  the 
youngest  Son,  a  Servant- Maid,  and  a  Litter  of 
Children. 

/a.  Nay,  now  instead  of  lessening,  you  have  heighten'd 
my  Admiration. 

Gil.  'Tis  scarce  possible  for  me  to  explain  this  Diffi 
culty  to  you,  unless  I  first  represent  to  you  in  what  Order 
we  sat  at  Table. 

Ja.  Pray  represent  it  then. 

Gil.  Antronius,  he  sat  at  the  upper  End  of  the  Table, 
and  I  sat  at  his  right  Hand,  as  being  principal  Guest ; 
over-against  Antronius  sat  Orthrogonus  ;  next  Orthro- 
gonus,  Verpius  ;  next  to  Verpius,  Strategus  a  Grecian  ; 
Antronius's  eldest  Son  sat  at  his  left  Hand.  If  any 
Stranger  came  to  dine  with  us,  he  was  plac'd  according 
to  his  Quality.  As  for  the  Soop,  there  was  no  great 
Danger  of  its  being  eaten  up,  nor  no  great  Difference 
in  the  Messes,  but  only  that  in  the  Dishes  of  the 
principal  Guests  there  were  some  Bits  of  this  Cheese 
floating  up  and  down.  And  besides,  there  was  a  Sort 
of  Barricado  made  betwixt  this  Soop  by  Bottles  of  Wine 
and  Water,  that  none  but  three,  before  whom  the  Dish 
stood,  could  participate,  unless  he  would  be  impudent 


192  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

On  Thursday  he  would  pretend  he  forgot  to  go  to 
Market,  lest  I  should  either  have  a  whole  Pullet  on  that 
Day,  or  any  should  be  left. 

Ja.  In  short,  I  think  your  Landlord  was  a  greater 
Miser  than  Euclio  in  Plautus.  But  what  Course  did 
you  take  to  keep  yourself  alive  upon  Fish- Days  ? 

Gil.  I  employ'd  a  certain  Friend  to  buy  me  every 
Day  three  Eggs  with  my  own  Money,  two  for  my 
Dinner,  and  one  for  my  Supper :  but  here  also  the 
Women  put  their  Tricks  upon  me ;  for  instead  of  my 
new-laid  Eggs  that  I  paid  a  good  price  for,  they  would 
give  me  rotten  ones,  that  I  thought  I  came  well  off,  if 
one  of  my  three  Eggs  prov'd  eatable.  I  also  at  last  got 
a  small  Cask  of  good  Wine  bought  for  my  own  drinking, 
but  the  Women  broke  open  my  Cellar-Door,  and  in  a 
few  Days  drank  it  all  up,  and  my  Landlord  Antronius 
did  not  seem  to  be  much  displeas'd  at  the  Matter. 

Ja.  But  was  there  no  Body  in  the  Family  that  took 
pity  on  you  ? 

Gil.  Take  Pity  on  me,  say  you  ?  No,  they  thought 
me  a  Glutton  and  a  Cormorant,  who  by  myself  devour'd 
so  much  Victuals  :  And  upon  that  Account  Orthrogonus 
would  ever  and  anon  give  me  good  Advice,  that  I  should 
consider  the  Climate  where  I  liv'd,  and  therefore 
have  Regard  to  myself;  telling  me  of  some  of  my 
Countrymen,  who  had  by  their  over-eating  in  that 
Country  either  procur'd  their  own  Deaths,  or  brought 
upon  themselves  very  dangerous  Distempers.  But 
when  he  found  me  supporting  my  outward  Tabernacle, 
that  was  fatigued,  starv'd,  and  distemper'd,  with  some 
Knick-Knacks  that  were  sold  at  the  Confectioners,  he 
sets  a  Physician,  a  Friend  and  Acquaintance  of  mine,  to 
persuade  me  to  live  moderately.  The  Doctor  took  a 
great  Deal  of  Pains  with  me  :  I  soon  perceiv'd  he  had 
been  set  on  to  do  it,  so  I  made  him  not  a  Word  of 
Answer  :  But  when  he  was  still  urging  me  very  hard, 
and  was  always  harping  on  the  same  String,  I  said  to 


The  Wealthy  Miser  193 

him,  '  Worthy  Doctor,  pray  tell  me,  are  you  in  Jest,  or 
in  Earnest  ? '  '  O,  in  Earnest,'  said  he.  '  Well  then,' 
replied  I,  'what  would  you  have  me  to  do?'  'Why,  to 
leave  off  Suppers  for  good  and  all,  and  to  mix  at  least 
one  half  Water  with  your  Wine.'  I  could  not  forbear 
laughing  at  this  excellent  Advice,  and  said  to  him,  '  If 
you  want  to  see  me  decently  laid  in  a  Church- Yard,  you 
propose  a  ready  Way  for  it  ;  for  I  am  sure  it  would  be 
present  Death  to  me,  in  the  Circumstances  of  this  poor, 
lean,  dispirited  Body,  to  leave  off  Suppers  ;  and  I  have 
try'd  that  so  often,  that  in  short  I  have  no  Mind  to  make 
the  Experiment  again.  What,  pray,  do  you  think  would 
become  of  me,  if,  after  such  Dinners  as  we  have  here,  I 
should  go  Supperless  to  Bed  ?  And  then  to  bid  me 
mingle  Water  with  such  weak  insipid  Wine !  pray  tell 
me,  is  it  not  much  better  to  drink  clear  Water  from  the 
Spring,  that  to  debauch  it  with  this  sour  dreggy  Stuff? 
I  don't  doubt  but  Orthrogonus  put  you  upon  giving  me 
this  Advice.'  At  this  the  Doctor  smil'd,  and  allow'd  me 
better  Terms  :  '  Most  learned  Gilbert,'  said  he,  '  I  did 
not  say  this  to  you,  that  you  should  totally  leave  off  eat 
ing  Suppers  ;  you  may  eat  an  Egg,  and  drink  a  Glass  of 
Wine  ;  for  this  is  my  own  Manner  of  living.  I  have  an 
Eggboil'd  for  my  Supper,  one  half  of  the  yoke  I  eat  my 
self,  and  give  the  other  half  to  my  Son  ;  then  I  drink 
half  a  Glass  of  Wine,  and  by  the  help  of  this  Refreshment 
I  study  till  late  in  the  Night.' 

Ja.  But  did  this  Doctor  speak  the  Truth  ? 

Gil.  Yes,  the  very  Truth  ;  for  as  I  was  once  coming 
Home  from  Church,  a  Gentleman  that  bore  me 
Company,  told  me  the  Doctor  dwelt  there :  I  had 
a  Mind  to  see  his  Quarters,  so  I  knocked  at  the  Door, 
and  in  I  went,  I  remember  it  was  on  a  Sunday  ;  I 
found  the  Doctor,  his  Son,  and  Servant,  at  Dinner  ; 
the  Bill  of  Fare  was  a  Couple  of  Eggs,  and  nothing  at 
all  else. 

Ja.  Why,  sure  jjiey  must  be  mere  Skeletons. 
VOL.  Ill,  N 


194  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Gil.  No,  really,  they  were  both  plump  and  in  good- 
liking,  fresh-colour'd,  their  Eyes  brisk  and  lively. 

Ja.  I  can  scarce  believe  it. 

Gil.  I  tell  you  nothing  but  what  I  know  to  be  true  : 
Nay,  he  is  not  the  only  Man  that  lives  after  this 
Manner,  but  Many  others,  Men  of  Fashion  and  Sub 
stance  in  the  World,  do  the  same.  Take  my  Word  for 
it,  much  eating  and  drinking  is  rather  an  Effect  of 
Custom,  than  of  Nature.  If  a  Person  accustomed  him 
self  by  little  and  little,  he  may  come  in  Time  to  do  as 
much  as  Milo,  to  eat  up  an  Ox  in  a  Day's  Time. 

Ja.  Good  God  !  if  it  be  possible  for  a  Man  to  preserve 
his  Health  with  so  little  Sustenance,  what  a  great  Deal 
of  unnecessary  Expence  are  the  Germans,  English, 
Danes,  and  Poles  at  upon  their  Bellies  ? 

Gil.  A  great  Deal  without  Doubt,  and  that  to  the 
apparent  Prejudice  of  their  Health  and  Understanding. 

Ja.  But  what's  the  Matter  that  you  could  not  content 
yourself  with  that  way  of  living? 

Gil.  Because  I  had  accustom'd  myself  to  another 
Manner,  and  it  was  too  late  to  alter  my  Way  of  living 
then.  But  besides,  I  did  not  so  much  dislike  the 
Quantity  of  our  Provision,  as  the  Quality  of  it.  Two 
Eggs  had  been  enough  for  a  Meal  for  me,  if  they  had 
been  fresh-laid  ;  one  Glass  of  Wine  had  been  enough, 
if  we  had  not  had  nasty  Lees  given  us  instead  of  Wine  ; 
half  the  Bread  would  have  serv'd  me,  if  it  had  not  been 
mix'd  with  Chalk. 

Ja.  Lord  !  that  Antronius  should  be  such  a  sordid 
Wretch  amidst  so  much  Wealth  ! 

Gil.  I  believe  verily  he  was  worth  80,000  Ducats  ;  and 
to  speak  within  Compass,  he  never  got  less,  than  1000 
Ducats  a  Year  besides. 

Ja.  But  did  those  young  Sparks,  for  whom  he  scrap'd 
all  this  together,  live  at  the  same  sparing  Rate  ? 

Gil.  Yes,  at  Home  they  did,  but  it  was  only  there  • 
for  when  they  got  abroad,  they  would  eat,  drink,  whore, 


The  Wealthy  Miser  195 

and  game  notably  ;  and  while  their  old  Father  thought 
much  to  spend  Sixpence  at  Home,  to  treat  the  best 
Friend  he  had,  these  Sparks  would  make  nothing  to 
lose  sixty  Ducats  in  a  Night  at  gaming. 

Ja.  This  is  the  usual  Fate  of  Estates  that  are  gotten 
by  miserly  living  ;  they  are  commonly  thus  spent.  But 
now  you  are  gotten  safe  out  of  these  great  Difficulties, 
whither  are  you  steering  your  Course? 

Gil.  I  am  going  to  an  old  Club  of  merry  Cocks,  to 
endeavour  to  fetch  up  what  I  have  lost. 


THE  SERAPHICK  FUNERAL1 

THE   ARGUMENT 

The  Seraphick  Funeral  lays  open  the  Order,  Habit,  Life, 
Vows,  and  horrid  Blasphemies  of  the  Franciscans.  That 
the  Franciscan  Habit  will  make  one  that  lives  to  the  Devil 
die  to  Christ,  and  is  of  more  Efficacy  than  Baptism.  The 
Secrets  of  the  Franciscan  Order.  That  the  Disciples  of 
St.  Francis  have  greater  Privileges  than  the  Disciples 
of  Christ.  That  a  Franciscan  Habit  will  drive  away  the 
Devil,  and  not  suffer  the  Worms  to  prey  upon  the  dead 
Corps.  That  this  Dress  makes  Men  happy  without 
Faith.  That  it  would  save  a  Turk,  nay  the  Devil  him 
self,  if  they  did  but  put  it  on.  That  St.  Francis  has 
added  to  the  Gospel  of  Christ.  That  the  Franciscans  are 
forbid  so  much  as  to  touch  Money 

PHILECOUS  and  THEOTIMUS 

Ph.  Why,  where  have  you  been,  Theotimus,  with  that 
new-fashion'd  religious  Look  ? 

Th.  Why  so  ? 

Ph.  You  look  so  stern,  methinks,  with  your  Eyes  fix'd 
upon  the  Ground,  your  Head  lying  upon  your  left 
Shoulder,  and  your  Beads  in  your  Hand. 

Th.  Why,  my  Friend,  if  you  must  needs  be  made 
acquainted  with  that  which  don't  concern  you,  I  have 
been  at  a  Show. 

Ph.  What  have  you  been  seeing,  the  Rope- Dancers, 
or  High  German  Artist,  or  something  of  that  Nature? 

Th.  Something  pretty  like  them. 

Ph.  In  short,  you  are  the  first  Man  I  ever  saw  come 
from  a  Show  with  such  a  Countenance. 

Th.  But  let  me  tell  you,  this  was  such  a  Spectacle, 


The  Seraphick  Funei  al  197 

that  if  yourself  had  been  a  Spectator,  perhaps  you  had 
been  more  melancholy  than  I  am. 

Ph.  But  prithee  tell  me  what  has  made  you  so  religious 
all  on  a  sudden  ? 

Th.  I  come  from  the  Funeral  of  a  Seraph. 

Ph.  What  say  you  ?  why,  do  the  Angels  die  ? 

Th.  No,  but  Angels  Fellows  do.  But  not  to  keep  you 
any  longer  in  Suspense,  I  suppose  you  know  that  famous 
learned  Man,  Eusebius  of  Pelusium  ? 

Ph.  What,  do  you  mean  he  that  was  degraded  of  his 
Authority  from  a  Prince,  to  the  State  of  a  private  Man, 
and  of  a  private  Man  made  an  Exile,  and  of  an  Exile 
made  little  better  than  a  Beggar  ;  I  had  like  to  have 
said  something  Worse  ? 

Th.  You  have  hit  very  right,  that 's  the  Man. 

Ph.  Why,  what 's  come  to  him  ? 

Th.  He  was  bury'd  to  Day,  and  I  am  just  come  from 
his  Funeral. 

Ph.  Sure  it  must  have  been  a  very  doleful  Sight  indeed, 
to  put  you  into  this  dismal  Mood.. 

Th.  I  'm  afraid  I  shall  never  be  able  to  tell  you  what 
I  have  seen  without  weeping. 

Ph.  And  I  am  afraid  I  shan't  be  able  to  hear  it  without 
laughing  :  But  however,  let's  have  it. 

Th.  You  know  that  Eusebius  has  been  in  a  very  weak 
Condition  a  long  Time. 

Ph.  Yes,  yes,  I  know  that  his  Body  has  been  worn  out 
for  this  many  a  Year. 

Th.  In  this  Sort  of  slow  and  consumptive  Diseases 
Physicians  frequently  foretell  the  Time  of  a  Man's  Death 
to  a  Day. 

Ph.  They  do  so. 

Th.  They  told  the  Patient,  that  all  the  Art  of  Man 
could  do  towards  his  Preservation,  had  been  done  for 
him  already :  That  God  indeed  could  do  what  was 
beyond  the  Power  of  Physic  to  effect,  but  according  to 
human  Conjecture  he  had  not  above  three  Days  to  live. 


198  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Ph.  Well,  what  did  he  do  then  ? 

Th.  The  excellent  Eusebius  immediately  stripping 
himself  stark-naked,  puts  on  the  Habit  of  the  most  holy 
Francis,  has  his  Head  shav'd,  is  drest  in  an  ash-colour'd 
Cowl  and  Gown,  an  hempen  knotted  Girdle,  and  cut  and 
slash'd  Shoes. 

Ph.  What,  when  he  was  departing  this  Life  ? 

Th.  Even  so  ;  and  with  a  dying  Voice  profess'd,  that 
if  it  should  please  God  to  restore  him  to  the  Health  that 
the  Physicians  despair'd  of,  he  would  serve  under  Christ 
according  to  the  Rule  of  St.  Francis  ;  and  there  were 
several  holy  Men  call'd  in  to  be  Witnesses  to  this  Pro 
fession.  In  that  Habit  dies  the  famous  Man,  at  the  very 
Time  that  the  Physicians  had  foretold  he  would.  There 
came  a  great  many  of  the  Fraternity  to  assist  at  his 
Funeral  Solemnity. 

Ph.  I  wish  I  had  been  present  at  this  Sight. 

Th.  It  would  have  fetch'd  Tears  from  your  Eyes,  to 
have  seen  with  what  tenderness  the  Seraphick  Fraternity 
wash'd  the  Body,  fitted  the  holy  Habit  to  it,  laid  his 
Hands  one  over  another  in  the  Form  of  a  Cross,  un- 
cover'd  and  kiss'd  his  naked  Feet,  and  according  to  the 
Precept  of  the  Gospel,  chear'd  up  his  Countenance  with 
Ointment. 

Ph.  What  a  prodigious  Humility  was  this,  for  the 
Seraphick  Brethren  to  take  upon  them  the  Office  of 
Washers  and  Bearers  ? 

Th.  When  this  was  done  they  laid  it  upon  the  Bier, 
and  according  to  the  Doctrine  of  St.  Paul,  '  Bear  ye  one 
another's  Burdens,'  the  Brethren  took  the  Brother  upon 
their  Shoulders,  and  carry'd  him  along  the  high  Way  to 
the  Monastery,  and  there  they  interr'd  him  with  the 
usual  Songs  and  Ceremonies.  As  this  venerable  Pomp 
was  passing  along  the  Way,  I  observ'd  a  great  many 
People,  that  could  not  forbear  weeping  to  see  a  Man, 
that  us'd  to  go  in  Silk  and  Scarlet,  now  wrapt  in  a  Fran 
ciscan's  Habit,  girded  about  with  a  Rope's  End,  and  the 


The  SerapJiick  Funeral  199 

whole  Body  dispos'd  in  such  a  Posture,  as  must  needs 
move  Devotion  ;  for,  as  I  said,  his  Head  was  laid  upon 
his  Shoulder,  and  his  Arms  across,  and  every  Thing 
else  carry'd  a  wonderful  Appearance  of  Holiness.  And 
then  the  March  of  the  Seraphick  Brethren  themselves 
with  their  Heads  hanging  down,  their  Eyes  fix'd  upon 
the  Ground,  and  their  mournful  Dirges,  so  mournful, 
that  I  can  scarce  think  that  in  Hell  itself  there  can  be 
any  Thing  beyond  it,  drew  Sighs  and  Tears  in  Abund 
ance  from  the  Beholders. 

Ph.  But  had  he  the  five  Wounds  of  St.  Francis  too  ? 

Th.  I  dare  not  affirm  that  for  a  Certainty,  but  I  saw 
some  bluish  Scars  in  his  Hands  and  Feet  ;  and  there 
was  an  Hole  in  the  left  Side  of  his  Gown  ;  but  I  did 
not  dare  to  look  too  narrowly ;  for  they  say  many 
People  have  been  undone,  by  being  too  curious  in  these 
Matters. 

Ph.  But  did  you  not  see  some  that  laught  too  ? 

Th.  Yes,  I  did  take  Notice  of  some,  but  I  believe  they 
were  Hereticks ;  there  are  too  many  of  them  in  the  World 
now-a-Days. 

Ph.  Well,  my  Theotimus,  to  deal  honestly  with 
you,  if  I  had  been  there,  in  my  Conscience,  I  believe 
I  should  scarce  have  been  able  to  forbear  laughing  too, 
for  Company. 

Th.  Pray  God  you  han't  got  a  Spice  of  that  Leaven 
too  ! 

Ph.  Good  Theotimus,  there  's  no  Danger  of  that ;  for 
I  have  had  a  great  Veneration  for  St.  Francis  from  a 
Child,  who,  according  to  the  World,  was  neither  wise 
nor  learned,  but  very  acceptable  to  God  and  Man  for 
the  strict  Mortification  of  his  worldly  Affections ;  and 
not  only  for  him,  but  for  all  who,  following  his  Foot- 
Steps,  endeavour  from  their  Hearts  to  be  dead  to  the 
World,  and  to  live  to  Christ.  But  as  to  the  Habit 
itself,  I  value  it  not ;  and  I  would  fain  know  of  you  what 
a  dead  Man  is  the  better  for  a  Garment  ? 


2OO  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Th.  You  know  it  is  the  Lord's  Precept,  '  Not  to  cast 
Pearls  before  Swine,  nor  to  give  holy  Things  to  Dogs.' 
Besides,  if  you  ask  Questions  to  make  yourself  merry 
with  them,  I  '11  tell  you  nothing  at  all ;  but  if  you  do  it 
with  an  honest  Desire  of  being  inform'd,  I  '11  very  freely 
communicate  to  you  what  I  have  learned  from  them. 

Ph.  I  profess  myself  willing  to  learn,  and  promise  to 
be  an  attentive,  teachable,  and  thankful  Scholar. 

Th.  In  the  first  Place,  you  know  that  there  are  some 
Persons  that  are  so  ambitious,  that  it  is  not  enough  for 
them  to  have  liv'd  proudly  and  insolently,  but  they  must 
be  bury'd  pompously  too,  when  they  are  dead  ;  not  that 
the  Dead  are  sensible,  but  yet  while  they  are  alive,  they 
take  some  Pleasure  by  the  Force  of  Imagination,  to 
think  of  the  Pomp  of  their  Funerals.  Now  I  suppose 
you  will  not  deny,  but  it  is  some  Degree  of  Piety  to 
renounce  this  vain  Affectation. 

Ph.  I  will  own  it,  if  there  be  no  other  Way  to  avoid 
the  Vanity  of  pompous  Funerals  :  But  in  my  Opinion,  it 
is  more  modest  for  a  Prince,  when  he  is  dead,  to  be 
wrapt  in  a  coarse  Winding-Sheet,  and  to  be  carry'd  by 
the  common  Bearers,  and  interr'd  in  the  common 
Burying-Place  among  the  common  Sort  of  People  ;  for 
they  that  were  carry'd,  as  Eusebius  was  carry'd,  do 
rather  seem  to  have  chang'd  their  Pride  than  avoided 
it. 

Th.  It  is  the  Intention  of  the  Mind  that  God  accepts, 
and  it  is  His  Province  only  to  judge  of  Men's  Hearts. 
But  what  I  have  told  you  is  but  a  small  Matter,  there 
are  greater  Things  behind. 

Ph.  What  are  they  ? 

Th.  They  profess  themselves  of  the  Order  of  St. 
Francis's  Rule  before  their  Death. 

Ph.  What,  that  they'll  observe  it  in  the  Elysian 
Fields? 

Th.  No,  but  in  this  World,  if  they  happen  to  recover, 
and  it  oftentimes  has  happen'd,  that  they,  that  have  been 


The  Seraphick  Funeral  2OI 

given  over  by  the  Physicians,  have,  by  God's  Blessing, 
recover'd  as  soon  as  ever  they  have  put  on  this  holy  Robe. 

Ph.  Ay,  and  it  often  happens  so  to  those  that  never 
put  it  on  at  all. 

Th.  We  ought  to  walk  with  Simplicity  in  the  Way  of 
Faith.  If  there  were  no  extraordinary  Advantage  in 
this  Case,  certainly  so  many  learned  and  eminent 
Persons,  even  among  the  Italians  themselves,  would  not 
be  so  desirous  of  being  bury'd  in  this  holy  Habit.  But 
lest  you  should  object  against  the  Examples  of  Strangers, 
I  '11  tell  you  that  one  whom  you  very  deservedly  had  an 
high  Esteem  for,  was  thus  bury'd  ;  Rudolphus  Agricola, 
and  so  was  Christopher  Longolius  too. 

Ph.  I  don't  regard  what  Men  do,  being  delirious  at 
the  Point  of  Death  :  I  would  fain  have  you  tell  me  what 
good  professing,  or  being  cloath'd,  does  a  Man,  when  he 
comes  to  be  terrify'd  with  the  Fears  of  Death,  and  dis- 
compos'd  with  Despair  of  Life.  Vows  are  of  no  Force, 
unless  they  be  made  in  sound  Sense  and  Sobriety, 
with  mature  Deliberation,  without  either  Force,  Fear,  or 
Guilt.  Nay,  if  nothing  of  all  this  were  requir'd,  such  a 
Vow  is  not  binding  till  after  the  Expiration  of  the 
Year  of  Probation,  at  which  Time  they  are  commanded 
to  wear  the  Coat  and  Hood.  This  is  what  St.  Francis 
himself  says  ;  so  that  if  they  recover,  they  are  at  Liberty 
in  two  Respects,  because  a  Vow  is  not  binding  that  is 
made  by  a  Man  under  an  Astonishment,  betwixt  the 
Hope  of  Life  and  the  Fear  of  Death  ;  and  because  Pro 
fession  does  not  oblige  a  Man  before  the  wearing  of  the 
Hood. 

Th.  Whether  it  be  an  Obligation  or  no,  it  is  certain 
they  think  it  one  ;  and  the  Resignation  of  the  whole 
Mind  is  acceptable  to  God.  And  this  is  the  Reason  that 
the  good  Works  of  Monks,  if  we  allow  them  to  be  but 
equal  with  other  Persons,  are  more  acceptable  to  God 
than  those  of  other  Men  are,  because  they  spring  from 
the  best  Root. 


2O2  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Ph.  I  shall  not  here  enter  into  the  Examination  of  the 
Merit  of  a  Man's  dedicating  himself  wholly  to  God, 
when  he  is  no  longer  in  his  own  Power.  I  take  it  that 
every  Christian  delivers  himself  up  wholly  to  God  in 
his  Baptism,  when  he  renounces  all  the  Pomps  and 
Vanities  of  Satan,  and  lists  himself  a  Soldier  to  fight 
under  Christ's  Banner  all  his  Life  after.  And  St.  Paul, 
speaking  of  those  that  die  with  Christ,  '  that  they  may 
live  no  longer  to  themselves,  but  to  him  that  died  for 
them,'  does  not  mean  this  of  Monks  only,  but  of 
Christians  universally. 

Th.  You  have  very  seasonably  put  me  in  Mind  of 
Baptism  ;  for  in  Times  past,  if  they  were  but  dip'd  or 
sprinkled  at  the  last  Gasp,  there  was  Hope  given  them 
of  eternal  Life. 

Ph.  'Tis  no  great  Matter  what  the  Bishops  promise, 
but  'tis  a  Matter  of  great  Uncertainty  what  God  will  do  ; 
for  if  it  were  certain  that  such  Men  were  presently 
made  Citizens  of  Heaven,  by  having  a  little  Water 
sprinkled  in  their  Faces,  what  greater  Gap  could  be  laid 
open,  that  worldly  Men  might  all  their  Life  long  serve 
their  filthy  Lusts  and  Appetites,  and  then  get  two  or 
three  Drops  of  Water  sprinkled  upon  them,  when  they 
were  not  able  to  sin  any  longer?  Now  if  the  same 
Rule  holds  in  your  Profession,  and  this  Baptism,  it  is 
very  well  provided  for  the  wicked,  that  they  may  not  be 
damn'd  ;  that  is,  that  they  may  live  to  the  Devil,  and  die 
to  Christ. 

77?.  If  it  be  lawful  to  divulge  the  Seraphick 
Mysteries,  the  Profession  of  a  Franciscan  is  more 
efficacious  than  Baptism. 

Ph.  What 's  that  you  say  ? 

Th.  In  Baptism  our  Sins  are  only  wash'd  away,  and 
the  Soul,  tho'  it  be  purg'd,  is  left  naked  ;  but  he  that  is 
invested  with  this  Profession,  is  presently  enrich'd  with 
the  egregious  Merits  of  the  whole  Order,  by  being 
grafted  into  the  Body  of  the  most  holy  Fraternity. 


The  Seraphick  Funeral  203 

Ph.  Well,  and  pray  is  he  that  is  ingrafted  in  the  Body 
of  Christ  never  the  better  neither  for  the  Head  nor  the 
Body? 

Th.  He  is  never  the  better  for  the  Seraphick  Body, 
unless  he  deserves  it  by  some  special  Bounty  or  Favour. 

Ph.   Pray  from  what  Angel  had  they  this  Revelation  ? 

Th.  Let  me  tell  you,  not  from  any  Angel,  but  Christ 
himself  with  his  own  Mouth  reveal'd  this,  and  a  great 
Deal  more  to  St.  Francis,  Face  to  Face. 

Ph.  I  intreat  you,  if  you  have  any  Kindness  for  me, 
and  I  adjure  you,  tell  me  what  the  Discourses  were. 

Th.  These  are  deep  profound  Mysteries,  nor  is  it  meet 
to  commit  them  to  profane  Ears. 

Ph.  Why  profane,  my  Friend?  I  never  wish'd  better 
to  any  Order  than  to  the  Seraphick. 

Th.  But  you  give  them  shrewd  Wipes  sometimes. 

Ph.  This  is  a  Sign  of  Love,  Theotimus.  The  greatest 
Enemies  of  the  Order  are  those  Professors  of  it,  that 
by  their  ill  Lives  bring  a  Scandal  upon  it.  And  who 
soever  wishes  well  to  the  Order,  can't  but  be  offended 
with  the  Corrupters  of  it. 

Th.  But  I  am  afraid  St.  Francis  will  be  angry  with 
me,  if  I  blab  any  of  his  Secrets. 

Ph.  What  can  you  be  afraid  of  from  so  harmless  a 
Person  ? 

Th.  What  ?  why,  lest  he  should  strike  me  blind,  or 
cause  me  to  run  mad,  as  I  am  told  he  has  done  to 
many,  who  have  deny'd  the  Print  of  the  five  Wounds. 

Ph.  Why  then,  the  Saints  are  worse  in  Heaven,  than 
they  were  upon  Earth.  I  have  heard  that  St.  Francis 
was  of  so  meek  a  Disposition,  that  when  Boys  out  of 
Roguery  would  be  throwing  Cheese,  Milk,  Dirt,  and 
Stones  into  his  homely  Cowl,  as  it  hung  down  at  his 
Back,  he  was  not  at  all  mov'd  at  it,  but  walk'd  on  his 
Way  chearful  and  pleasant  ;  and  what,  is  he  now 
become  so  angry  and  revengeful  ?  And  at  another 
Time,  when  one  of  his  Companions  call'd  him  Thief, 


204  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

sacrilegious,  Murderer,  incestuous,  Sot,  and  all  the 
Rogues  he  could  think  on,  he  thank'd  him,  confessing 
himself  guilty.  But  one  of  the  Company  wondering  at 
such  an  Acknowledgement,  '  I  had  done  worse  than  all 
this,'  says  he,  'unless  God's  Grace  had  restrain'd  me.' 
How  then  comes  St.  Francis  now  to  be  so  vindictive? 

Th.  It  is  so  :  The  Saints,  now  they  are  in  Heaven, 
will  take  no  Affront.  Was  ever  any  Man  gentler  than 
Cornelius,  milder  than  Antony,  or  more  patient  than 
John  the  Baptist,  while  they  liv'd  upon  Earth?  But 
now  they  are  in  Heaven,  what  dreadful  Diseases  do  they 
send  among  us,  if  we  do  not  worship  them  as  we  should 
do? 

Ph.  I  am  of  Opinion  that  they  rather  cure  our 
Diseases  than  cause  them.  But  however,  assure  your 
self,  that  what  you  say  to  me,  you  say  to  a  Man  that 
is  neither  profane,  nor  a  Blab. 

TJi.  Well,  come  on  then,  depending  upon  your 
Secrecy,  I  '11  tell  you  something  relating  to  this  Matter. 
Good  St.  Francis,  I  intreat  thee  and  the  Society,  that  I 
may  have  your  Leave  to  relate  what  I  have  heard  !  St. 
Paul,  you  know,  was  endow'd  with  an  hidden  Wisdom, 
which  he  did  not  communicate  openly,  but  in  private,  to 
such  as  were  perfect.  So  have  the  Seraphicks  also  cer 
tain  Mysteries,  which  they  do  not  make  common,  but 
only  communicate  them  in  private  to  certain  blessed 
Widows,  and  other  choice  and  godly  People,  that  are 
Well-wishers  to  the  Seraphick  Society. 

Ph.  I  am  impatient  to  hear  this  triple  holy  Revela 
tion. 

Th.  In  the  first  Place,  the  Lord  foretold  the  Seraphick 
Patriarch,  that  the  more  the  Seraphick  Society  increas'd, 
the  more  abundantly  he  would  make  Provision  for  them. 

Ph.  So  then,  at  first  Dash  here  are  those  People's 
Mouths  stop'd,  who  complain  that  those  People,  grow 
ing  more  numerous  every  Day,  are  a  Burden  to  the 
Public. 


The  Seraphick  Funeral  205 

7%.  And  secondly,  he  discover'd  this,  that  annually 
upon  St.  Francis's  Day,  all  the  Souls  not  only  of  the 
Brotherhood,  who  wear  the  holy  Habit,  but  also  of 
those  who  wish  well  to  that  Order,  and  are  Benefactors 
to  the  Brotherhood,  should  be  discharg'd  from  the  Fire 
of  Purgatory. 

Ph.  Why,  did  Christ  talk  so  familiarly  with  him  ? 

Th.  Why  not?  Yes  he  did,  as  familiarly  as  one 
Friend  or  Companion  would  do  with  another.  God 
the  Father  convers'd  with  Moses  ;  and  Moses  com 
municated  the  Law  so  deliver'd  to  him,  to  the  People  : 
Christ  publish'd  the  Evangelical  Law,  and  St.  Francis 
deliver'd  two  Copies  of  his  Law,  that  had  been 
written  by  the  Hands  of  an  Angel,  to  the  Seraphick 
Fraternity. 

Ph.  I  want  to  hear  the  third  Revelation. 

Th.  The  worthy  Patriarch  was  in  Fear,  lest  the  Evil 
One  should  corrupt,  by  Night,  the  good  Seed  which 
had  been  sown,  and  the  Wheat  should  be  rooted 
up  with  the  Tares.  The  Lord  likewise  freed  him 
from  this  Scruple,  promising  him,  that  he  would 
take  it  into  his  Care,  that  none  of  the  half-shod, 
rope-girded  Tribe,  should  ever  miscarry,  even  till  the 
Day  of  Judgment. 

Ph.  Oh,  the  Kindness  of  God  !  If  it  were  not  so,  the 
Church  of  God  would  be  undone.  But  go  on. 

Th.  And  then  fourthly,  he  discover'd  to  him,  that 
none  that  liv'd  impiously  should  long  persevere  in  that 
Order. 

Ph.  Why,  does  not  he  who  lives  wickedly  fall  from 
the  Order? 

Th.  No  more  than  he  that  lives  wickedly  denies 
Christ ;  altho'  in  a  Sense  they  may  be  said  to  deny 
God,  who  profess  him  in  Words,  but  in  Works  deny 
him.  But  whosoever  has  cast  off  the  holy  Habit,  he 
irreparably  falls  from  the  Order. 

Ph.  What  shall  we  say  then  of  so  many  Monasteries 


206  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

of  Conventuals  who  have  Money,  drink,  game,  whore, 
and  keep  Concubines  publickly  ;  not  to  mention  any 
Thing  else. 

Th.  St.  Francis  never  wore  a  Garment  of  that  Colour, 
I  mean  a  grey,  nor  a  Girdle  of  white  Linen  ;  and  there 
fore,  when  they  come  to  knock  at  Heaven  Gates,  it  will 
be  said  to  them,  '  I  never  knew  you,'  for  that  they  have 
not  on  the  Wedding-Garment. 

Ph.  Well,  what,  have  you  any  more  ? 

Th.  You  have  heard  nothing  yet  to  what  is  behind. 
In  the  fifth  Place,  he  made  known  to  him,  that  those 
who  were  Enemies  to  the  Seraphick  Order,  such  as 
there  are  but  too  many,  the  more  is  the  Pity,  should 
never  live  half  the  Time  God  had  appointed  them, 
without  making-away  with  themselves  ;  and  that  un 
less  they  anticipated  their  Fate,  they  should  suddenly 
come  to  a  miserable  End. 

Ph.  We  have,  among  Abundance  of  other  Instances, 
seen  that  made  good  in  Matthew  Cardinal  of  Sedunum, 
who  had  a  very  ill  Opinion,  and  spoke  ill  of  the  half-shod 
Fraternity ;  for  he  died,  I  think,  before  he  was  full  50 
Years  of  Age. 

Th.  You  say  very  right ;  but  then  he  had  done  Injury 
to  the  Cherubick  Order  likewise  :  For  they  say,  it  was 
brought  about  chiefly  by  his  Management,  that  the  four 
Dominicans  were  burnt  at  Bern,  when  otherwise  they 
would  have  overcome  the  Pope's  Resentment  by  Money. 

Ph.  But  they  say  they  had  begun  to  act  a  Piece  of 
most  monstrous  Impiety.  They  attempted,  by  false 
Visions  and  Miracles,  to  persuade  People,  that  the  Virgin 
Mary  was  polluted  with  original  Sin,  and  that  St.  Francis 
had  not  the  genuine  Marks  of  Christ's  Wounds,  and  that 
Catharina  Senensis  had  them  more  authentickly ;  but 
had  promis'd  the  most  perfect  of  them  all  to  the  Lay- 
Man  they  had  converted,  and  suborn'd  to  act  this  Farce, 
and  had  abus'd  the  Body  of  the  Lord,  to  carry  on  the 
Imposture,  and  afterwards  with  Clubs  and  Poisons. 


The  Seraphick  Funeral  207 

And  in  the  last  Place  they  say,  that  this  Project  was  not 
carry'd  on  by  one  University  only,  but  by  all  the  Heads 
of  the  whole  Order. 

Th.  Let  that  be  as  it  will,  it  was  not  without  Reason 
that  God  said,  'Touch  not  mine  Anointed.' 

Ph.  I  want  to  hear  what  is  to  come. 

Th.  The  sixth  Revelation  is  behind,  in  which  the 
Lord  sware  to  him,  that  those  that  were  Favourers  of 
the  Seraphick  Order,  how  wickedly  soever  they  liv'd, 
should  one  Time  or  other  obtain  Mercy  from  the  Lord, 
and  end  their  wicked  Life  with  a  blessed  Death. 

Ph.  What  if  they  should  be  caught  and  kill'd  in  the 
very  Act  of  Adultery  ? 

Th.  What  God  has  promis'd,  cannot  fail  of  being 
perform'd. 

Ph.  But  what  is  it  that  they  interpret  Favour  and 
Good-Will  by  ? 

Th.  Oh  !  do  you  doubt  of  that  ?  He  that  gives  them 
Presents,  that  cloaths  them,  furnishes  their  Kitchen,  he 
loves  them  long  ago. 

Ph.  But  does  he  not  love  those  that  give  them 
Admonitions  and  Instructions? 

Th.  They  have  enough  of  those  Things  at  Home ; 
and  it  is  their  Profession  to  bestow  these  Benefits  on 
other  Persons,  and  not  to  receive  them  from  them. 

Ph.  Then  the  Lord  has  promis'd  more  to  the  Disciples 
of  St.  Francis,  than  he  has  to  his  own.  He  indeed 
suffers  it  to  be  imputed  to  him,  if  any  Thing  be  done  for 
his  Sake  to  a  Christian,  but  he  never  promis'd  Salvation 
to  such  as  live  wickedly. 

Th.  That's  no  Wonder,  my  Friend  ;  for  the  tran 
scendent  Power  of  the  Gospel  is  reserv'd  for  this  Order. 
But  you  shall  now  hear  the  seventh  and  last  Revelation. 

Ph.  I  am  ready  to  hear  it. 

Th.  The  Lord  sware  to  him,  that  none  should  make 
an  ill  End,  who  dy'd  in  a  Franciscan's  Habit. 

Ph.  But  what  is  it  that  you  call  an  ill  End  ? 


208  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Th.  Why,  he  makes  an  ill  End,  that  when  his  Soul 
leaves  the  Body,  it  goes  down  directly  into  Hell  without 
any  Redemption. 

Ph.  But  what  then,  does  not  the  Habit  deliver  from 
the  Fire  of  Purgatory? 

Th.  No,  unless  a  Person  dies  in  it  upon  St.  Francis's 
Day.  But  don't  you  think  it  is  a  great  Thing  to  be 
freed  from  Hell  ? 

Ph.  Yes,  I  think  it  is  the  greatest  of  all.  But  what 
must  we  think  of  those  Persons,  who  are  put  into  the 
Habit,  after  they  are  dead,  and  don't  actually  die  in  it  ? 

Th.  If  they  desire  it  in  their  Life-Time,  the  Will  is 
taken  for  the  Deed. 

Ph.  When  I  was  at  Antwerp,  I  was  present  in  the 
Company  of  the  Relations  of  a  Woman,  that  was  just 
giving  up  the  Ghost.  There  was  a  Franciscan  by,  a  very 
reverend  Man,  who  observing  the  Woman  to  yawn,  put 
one  of  her  Arms  into  the  Sleeve  of  his  Garment,  so  thnt 
it  cover'd  that  Arm,  and  Part  of  the  Shoulder ;  and 
there  was  a  Dispute  rais'd  upon  it,  whether  the  whole 
Woman  should  be  safe  from  the  Gates  of  Hell,  or  that 
Part  only  which  had  been  cover'd. 

Th.  Why,  the  whole  Woman  was  secur'd  ;  as  it  is  in 
Baptism,  but  Part  of  the  Person  is  dip'd  in  the  Water, 
but  the  whole  Person  is  made  a  Christian. 

Ph.  It  is  wonderful  what  a  Dread  the  Devils  have  of 
this  Habit. 

Th.  They  dread  it  more  than  they  do  the  Cross  of 
Christ.  When  Eusebius  was  carry'd  to  the  Grave,  I 
saw,  and  so  did  many  others  besides  me,  Swarms  of 
black  Devils,  like  Flies,  buzzing  about  the  Body,  and 
striking  at  it ;  but  not  one  of  them  durst  to  touch  it. 

Ph.  But  in  the  mean  Time,  his  Face,  his  Hands,  and 
his  Feet  were  in  Danger,  because  they  were  bare. 

Th.  As  a  Snake  will  not  come  near  the  Shadow  of  an 
Ash,2  let  it  spread  ever  so  far  ;  so  the  Devils  are  sensible 
of  the  Venom  of  the  holy  Garment  at  a  great  Distance. 


The  Scrap/tick  Funeral  209 

Ph.  Why  then,  I  believe,  such  Bodies  do  not  putrify  ; 
if  they  do,  the  Worms  have  more  Courage  than  the 
Devils. 

Th.   What  you  say  is  very  probable. 

Ph.  How  happy  are  the  Lice,  which  always  live  in 
that  holy  Garment !  But  when  the  Garment  is  going 
to  the  Grave,  what  becomes  of  the  Soul  ? 

Th.  Why,  the  Soul  carries  away  with  it  the  Influence 
of  the  Garment,  and  renders  it  secure  ;  so  that  a  great 
many  will  not  allow,  that  any  of  that  Order  do  go  at  all 
to  Purgatory. 

Ph.  In  Truth,  if  this  Revelation  were  true,  I  would 
esteem  it  at  an  higher  Rate  than  that  of  St.  John  ;  for 
this  shows  us  an  easy  and  a  ready  Way,  without  Labour, 
Trouble,  or  Repentance,  to  escape  eternal  Misery,  and 
yet  to  live  all  our  Life  long  merrily. 

Th.   It  is  so. 

Ph.  From  henceforth  I  shall  leave  off  admiring  at  the 
great  Deference  that  so  many  pay  to  the  Seraphick 
Fraternity :  But  I  stand  in  great  Admiration  that 
any  Man  should  dare  to  open  his  Mouth  against 
them. 

Th.  You  may  observe  where-ever  you  see  them,  that 
they  are  Persons  given  over  to  a  reprobate  Mind,  and 
blinded  in  their  Wickedness. 

Ph.  I  will  for  the  future  be  more  cautious  than  I  have 
been,  and  take  Care  to  die  in  a  Franciscan  Habit.  But 
there  are  some  risen  up  in  our  Age  who  will  have  it, 
that  a  Man  is  justified  only  by  Faith,  without  the  Help 
of  good  Works  ;  but  it  is  the  greatest  Privilege  in  the 
World  to  be  saved  by  a  Garment  without  Faith. 

Th.  Don't  mistake  me,  Philecous  ;  I  don't  say  simply 
without  Faith,  but  with  this  Faith  of  believing,  that  the 
Things  I  have  told  you  were  promised  by  our  Saviour 
to  the  Patriarch  St.  Francis. 

Ph.  But  will  this  Garment  save  a  Turk  ? 

Th.  It  would  save  the  Devil  himself,  if  he  would  but 

VOL.  III.  O 


2io  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

suffer  it  to  be  put  on  him,  and  could  but  believe  this 
Revelation. 

Ph.  Well,  thou  hast  won  me  for  ever  ;  but  I  have  a 
Scruple  or  two  more,  that  I  would  desire  you  to  clear 
up  for  me. 

Th.  Let  me  hear  them. 

Ph.  I  have  heard  that  St.  Francis  has  said  his  Order 
was  of  evangelical  Institution. 

Th.  True. 

Ph.  Now  I  thought  that  all  Christians  had  profess'd 
the  Rule  of  the  Gospel  ;  but  if  the  Franciscan's  Order 
be  a  Gospel  one,  then  all  Christians  ought  to  be  Fran 
ciscans,  and  Christ  himself,  his  Apostles,  and  the  Virgin- 
Mother  at  the  Head  of  them. 

Th.  It  would  be  so  indeed,  unless  St.  Francis  had 
added  some  Things  to  the  Gospel  of  Christ.  '" 

Ph.  What  Things  are  they  ? 

Th.  An  Ash-colour'd  Garment,  an  Hempen  Girdle, 
and  naked  Feet. 

Ph.  Well,  then,  by  these  Marks  we  may  know  an 
evangelical  Christian  from  a  Franciscan,  may  we? 

Th.  But  they  differ  too  in  the  Point  of  touching 
Money. 

Ph.  But,  as  I  am  inform'd,  St.  Francis  forbids  the 
receiving  of  it,  not  the  touching  of  it  ;  but  the  Owner, 
or  the  Proctor,  the  Creditor,  the  Heir,  or  the  Proxy  does 
commonly  receive  it  ;  and  tho'  he  draws  it  over  with  his 
Glove  on,  and  does  not  touch  it,  nevertheless  he  is  said 
to  receive  it.  Whence  then  came  this  new  Interpreta 
tion,  that  not  to  receive  it,  is  not  to  touch  it  ? 

Th.  This  was  the  Interpretation  of  Pope  Benedict.3 

Ph.  But  not  as  a  Pope,  but  only  as  a  Franciscan. 
And  then  again,  do  not  the  most  strict  of  the  Order 
take  Money  in  a  Clout,  when  it  is  given  them  in  their 
Pilgrimages  ? 

Th.  They  do  in  a  Case  of  Necessity. 

Ph.  But  a  Man   should  rather  die   than  violate   so 


The  Seraphick  Funeral  2 1 1 

super-evangelical    a    Rule.      And    then,   do    they   not 
receive  Money  every-where  by  their  Officers  ? 

Th.  Why  should  they  not,  and  that  thousands  and 
thousands  too,  as  they  do  frequently  ? 

Ph.  But  the  Rule  says,  not  by  themselves,  nor  by  any 
Body  else. 

Th.  Well,  but  they  don't  touch  it. 

Ph.  O  ridiculous  !  if  the  Touch  be  impious,  they  touch 
it  by  others. 

Th.  But  that  is  the  Act  and  Deed  of  the  Proctors,  not 
their  own. 

Ph.  Is  it  not  so?  Let  him  try  it  that  has  a  Mind 
to  it. 

Th.  We  never  read  that  Christ  touch'd  Money. 

Ph.  Suppose  it,  tho'  it  is  very  probable  that,  when  he 
was  a  Youth,  he  might  buy  Oil,  and  Vinegar,  and  Salads 
for  his  Parents  :  But  Peter  and  Paul,  without  all  Con 
troversy,  touch'd  it.  The  Virtue  consists  in  the  Con 
tempt  of  Money,  and  not  in  the  not  touching  of  it.  It 
is  much  more  dangerous  to  touch  Wine,  than  to  touch 
Money  ;  why  are  they  not  afraid  of  that  ? 

Th.  Because  St.  Francis  did  not  forbid  it. 

Ph.  Do  they  not  readily  enough  offer  their  Hands, 
which  they  keep  soft  with  Idleness,  and  white  with 
Washes,  to  pretty  Wenches  ?  but,  bless  me  !  if  you  offer 
them  a  piece  of  Money  to  look  upon,  and  see  if  it  be 
good,  how  do  they  start  back  and  cross  themselves  !  Is 
not  this  an  evangelical  Nicety?  In  Truth,  I  believe  St. 
Francis,  illiterate  as  he  was,  was  never  so  silly  as  to 
have  absolutely  forbid  all  touching  of  Money.  And  if 
that  were  his  Opinion,  to  how  great  a  Danger  did  he 
expose  his  Followers,  in  commanding  them  to  go  bare 
foot  ?  for  it  is  scarce  possible,  but  that  one  Time  or 
another,  they  might  unawares  tread  upon  Money  lying 
on  the  Ground. 

Th.  Well,  but  then  they  don't  touch  it  with  their 
Hands. 


212  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Ph.  Why,  pray  is  not  the  Sense  of  touching  common 
to  the  whole  Body  ? 

Th.  But  in  Case  any  such  Thing  should  fall  out,  they 
do  not  officiate  after  it  till  they  have  been  at  Confession. 
Ph.  'Tis  conscientiously  done. 

Th.  But  without  cavilling,  I  '11  tell  you  how  it  is  ; 
Money  ever  was,  and  ever  will  be,  the  Occasion  of 
very  great  Evils  to  many  Persons. 

Ph.  I  allow  it :  But  then,  on  the  other  Hand,  it  is  an 
Instrument  of  as  much  good  to  others.  I  find  the  inordi 
nate  Love  of  Money  to  be  condemned  ;  but  I  nowhere 
find  Money  itself  to  be  so. 

Th.  You  say  very  well ;  but  that  we  may  be  kept  at 
greater  Distance  from  the  Disease  of  Covetousness,  we 
are  forbid  to  touch  Money,  as  we  are  forbid  by  the 
Gospel  to  swear  at  all,  that  we  may  be  kept  from 
Perjury. 

Ph.  Why  then,  is  not  the  Sight  of  Money  forbidden 
too? 

Th.  Because  it  is  easier  to  govern  our  Hands  than 
Eyes. 

Ph.  And  yet  Death  itself  entred  into  the  World  at 
those  Windows. 

Th.  And  therefore  your  true  Franciscans  pull  their 
Cowls  over  their  Eye-Brows,  and  walk  with  their  Eyes 
cover'd  and  fixt  upon  the  Ground,  that  they  may  see 
nothing  but  their  Way,  just  like  Carriers  Horses,  that 
have  Winkers  on  each  Side  of  their  Head-Geer,  that 
they  may  see  nothing  but  what  is  before  them,  and  at 
their  Feet. 

Ph.  But  tell  me,  is  it  true  as  I  hear,  that  they  are  for 
bidden  by  their  Order  to  receive  any  Indulgences  from 
the  Pope? 

Th.  They  are  so. 

Ph.  But  as  I  am  inform'd,  there  are  no  Men  in  the 
World  that  have  more  of  them  than  they  have  ;  so  that 
they  are  allow'd  either  to  poison,  or  bury  alive,  those 


The  Seraphick  Funeral  213 

that  they  themselves  have  condemn'd,  without  any 
Danger  of  being  called  to  Account  for  it. 

Th.  What  you  have  heard  is  no  Fiction  ;  for  I  was 
told  once  by  a  Polander,  and  a  Man  of  Credit  too,  that 
he,  having  gotten  drunk,  fell  fast  asleep  in  the  Francis 
cans  Church,  in  one  of  the  Corners  where  the  Women 
sit  to  make  their  Confessions  thro'  a  Lattice  ;  and  being 
awak'd  by  the  singing  of  their  Nocturns,  according  to 
Custom,  he  did  not  dare  to  discover  himself:  and  when 
the  Office  was  over,  the  whole  Fraternity  went  down 
into  the  Vault,  where  there  was  a  large,  deep  Grave 
ready  made,  and  there  stood  two  young  Men  with  their 
Hands  tied  behind  them  :  There  was  a  Sermon  preach'd 
in  Praise  of  Obedience,  and  a  Promise  of  God's  Pardon 
for  all  their  Sins,  and  some  Hope  given  them  that  God 
would  incline  the  Minds  of  the  Brotherhood  to  Mercy, 
if  they  would  voluntarily  go  down  into  the  Grave  and 
lay  themselves  upon  their  Backs  there.  They  did  so, 
and  as  soon  as  they  were  down,  the  Ladders  were  drawn 
up,  and  the  Brethren  all  together  flung  the  Dirt  upon 
them. 

Ph.  Well,  but  did  the  Polander  say  nothing  all  the 
while  ? 

Th.  No,  not  a  Word  ;  he  was  afraid,  if  he  had  dis- 
cover'd  himself,  he  should  have  made  the  third  Person. 

Ph.  But  can  they  justify  this  ? 

Th.  Yes,  they  may  as  often  as  the  Honour  of  the 
Order  is  call'd  in  Question  ;  for  he,  as  soon  as  he  had 
made  his  Escape,  told  what  he  had  seen  in  all  the  Com 
panies  he  came  into,  to  the  great  Scandal  of  the  whole 
Seraphick  Order.  And  had  it  not  been  better  now  that 
this  Man  had  been  buried  alive  ? 

Ph.  It  may  be  it  had  ;  but  omitting  these  Niceties, 
how  comes  it  that  when  their  Patriarch  has  ordered 
them  to  go  barefoot,  they  now  go  commonly  half- 
shod? 

Th.  This  Injunction  was  moderated  for  two  Reasons, 


214  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

the  one  for  Fear  they  should  tread  upon  Money  un 
awares  ;  the  other  lest  Cold,  or  Thorns,  or  Snakes,  or 
Flint,  or  any  such  Thing  should  hurt  them,  since  they 
are  oblig'd  to  travel  barefoot  all  the  World  over :  But 
however  that  might  be,  and  the  Dignity  of  the  Rule 
preserved  inviolable,  the  Slashes  in  the  Shoes  shew 
the  naked  Foot,  and  so  fulfil  the  Rule  by  Synecdoche.4 

Ph.  They  value  themselves  much  upon  their  profess 
ing  evangelical  Perfection,  which,  they  say,  consists  in 
evangelical  Precepts ;  but  about  those  Precepts  the 
Learned  themselves  have  hot  Disputes.  And  in  every 
State  of  Life  there  is  Room  for  evangelical  Perfection. 
But  now  which  do  you  reckon  the  most  perfect  of  the 
Gospel  Precepts? 

Th.  I  believe  that  you  find  in  the  fifth  of  Matthew 
which  ends  thus,  '  Love  your  Enemies,  do  good  to  them 
that  hate  you,  and  pray  for  those  that  persecute  you 
and  revile  you,  that  you  may  be  the  Children  of  your 
Father  who  is  in  Heaven,  who  maketh  his  Sun  to  shine 
upon  the  good  and  the  evil,  and  sendeth  Rain  upon  the 
just  and  the  unjust ;  therefore  be  ye  perfect,  as  your 
heavenly  Father  is  perfect.' 

Ph.  You  have  answered  very  pertinently  ;  but  then 
our  Father  is  rich  and  munificent  to  all  People,  asking 
nothing  of  any  Man. 

Th.  And  so  are  they  bountiful  too,  but  it  is  of 
spiritual  Things,  of  Prayers  and  good  Works,  in  which 
they  are  very  rich. 

Ph.  I  would  there  were  among  them  more  Examples 
of  that  evangelical  Charity,  that  returns  Blessings  for 
Cursings,  and  Good  for  Evil.  What  is  the  Meaning  of 
that  celebrated  Saying  of  Pope  Alexander,  'Tis  safer  to 
affront  the  most  powerful  Prince,  than  any  one  single 
Franciscan  or  Dominican  ?  5 

Th.  It  is  lawful  to  avenge  an  Injury  offer'd  to  the 
Dignity  of  the  Order ;  and  what  is  done  to  the  least  of 
them,  is  done  to  the  whole  Order. 


The  Seraphick  Funeral  2 1 5 

Ph.  But  why  not  rather  the  Good  that  is  done  to  one, 
is  done  to  the  whole  Order  ?  And  why  shall  not  an 
Injury  done  to  one  Christian  engage  all  Christendom  in 
Revenge  ?  Why  did  not  St.  Paul,  when  he  was  beaten 
and  stoned,  call  for  Succour  against  the  Enemies  of  his 
apostolical  Character  ?  Now,  if  according  to  the  Say 
ing  of  our  Saviour,  it  be  more  blessed  to  give  than 
receive,  certainly  he  that  lives  and  teaches  well,  and 
gives  of  his  own  to  those  that  are  in  Want,  is  much 
perfecter  than  he  that  is  only  on  the  receiving  Hand  ;  or 
otherwise  St.  Paul's  Boast  of  preaching  the  Gospel 
gratis  is  vain  and  idle.  It  seems  to  me  to  be  the  best 
Proof  of  an  evangelical  Disposition,  that  Persons  are 
not  angry  when  reproached,  and  have  a  Christian 
Charity  for  those  that  ill  deserve  it.  What  great  Matter 
is  it  for  a  Man  to  relinquish  something  of  his  own,  to 
live  better  upon  that  which  is  another  Body's,  and  to 
reserve  to  himself  a  Desire  of  Revenge  ?  The  World  is 
full  every  where  of  this  half-shod,  rope-girt  Sort  of 
People ;  but  there  is  scarce  one  of  them  to  be  found 
that  presses  after  that  which  Christ  calls  Perfection,  and 
the  Apostles  constantly  practised. 

Th.  I  am  no  Stranger  to  the  Stories  that  wicked 
Persons  tell  of  them  ;  but  for  my  own  Part,  where  ever 
I  see  the  sacred  Habit,  I  think  the  Angels  of  God  are 
by ;  and  count  that  a  happy  House,  whose  Threshold  is 
most  worn  by  their  Feet. 

Ph.  And  I  am  of  Opinion,  that  Women  are  no  where 
more  fruitful  than  where  these  Men  are  most  familiar. 
But  I  beg  St.  Francis's  Pardon,  Theotimus,  for  being  so 
much  out  of  the  Way.  I  really  took  their  Habit  to  be 
no  more  than  a  Garment,  nor  one  Jot  better  than  a 
Sailor's  Jacket,  or  a  Shoemaker's  Coat,  setting  aside  the 
Holiness  of  the  Person  that  wears  it,  as  the  Touch  of 
our  Saviour's  Garment  cured  the  Woman  with  the  bloody 
Issue.  Or  else  I  could  not  satisfy  myself  whether  I  was 
to  thank  the  Weaver,  or  the  Taylor,  for  the  Virtue  of  it. 


216  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Th.  Without  Doubt  he  that  gives  the  Form  gives  the 
Virtue. 

Ph.  Well  then,  for  Time  to  come  I  '11  live  more 
merrily,  and  not  torment  myself  with  the  Fear  of  Hell, 
the  Tediousness  of  Confession,  or  the  Torment  of 
Repentance. 


AMICITIA,    OR    FRIENDSHIP 

THE   ARGUMENT 

Amicitia  treats  of  the  Sympathy  and  Antipathy  of  Things. 
A  Serpent  is  an  Enemy  to  Mankind  and  Lizards :  He 
loves  Milk,  hates  the  Smell  of  Garlick.  A  Crocodile  is  a 
mortal  Enemy  to  Mankind.  A  Dolphin  is  a  greater 
Lover  of  them.  Every  Kind  of  Animal  by  mere  Instinct 
fears  its  Enemy.  A  Horse  mortally  hates  a  Bear.  An 
Elephant  loves  a  Man  wonderfully,  but  hates  a  Dragon, 
a  Mouse,  and  a  Swallow.  A  Dog  is  a  very  friendly 
Creature  to  Man,  and  a  Wolf  as  great  an  Enemy,  so  that 
the  very  Sight  of  him  strikes  a  Man  dumb.  A  Spider  is 
a  great  Enemy  to  a  Serpent  and  a  Toad.  A  Toad  is 
cured  immediately  by  eating  of  Plantane.  The  History 
of  a  Monk  that  was  rescued  from  a  Toad.  An  Ape  is 
very  fearful  of  a  Tortoise ;  an  Acanthis  of  an  Ass  ;  a 
Beetle  of  an  Eagle ;  a  Dove  of  a  Hawk.  A  Lion  is  struck 
with  Fear  by  the  crowing  of  a  Cock.  A  Monkey  admires 
Coneys.  The  Boxtree  chases  away  Serpents.  Moths 
are  turned  into  butterflies,  and  being  dead  are  sensible 
of  the  Touch  of  a  Spider.  Even  a  dead  Body  detects  a 
Murderer.  An  Oak  has  an  Enmity  to  an  Olive-tree,  and 
a  Walnut-tree  ;  a  Vine  to  a  Cole-wort.  Garlick  is  very 
friendly  to  Lilies.  Rivers  have  their  Antipathy  :  Winds, 
Stars,  and  Genii,  are  some  of  them  friendly,  others 
noxious.  Oxen  love  one  Companion,  but  hate  another. 
Men  have  a  secret  Antipathy  against  some  Persons. 
Boys  themselves  love  one  Play-Fellow,  but  shun  the 
Company  of  another.  Erasmus  at  eight  Years  of  Age 
had  a  mortal  Aversion  to  a  Lyar,  by  some  secret  Guid 
ance  of  Nature.  Every  one  ought  to  avoid  that  Way  of 
Livelyhood,  that  he  has  a  natural  Aversion  to.  We  ought 
to  have  Charity  for  all,  but  Familiarity  with  very  few 

EPHORINUS  and  JOHN 

Eph.    I  often  admire  with  myself  what  God  Nature 
consulted  when  it  intermixt  certain  secret  Amities  and 


2 1 8  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Enmities  in  all  Things,  for  which  there  is  no  probable 
Reason  to  be  given,  unless  for  her  own  Entertainment,  as 
we  set  Cocks  and  Quails  a  fighting  to  make  us  Diversion. 

Joh.  I  don't  very  well  take  in  what  you  aim  at. 

Eph.  Well  then,  I  '11  tell  you  in  familiar  Instances  : 
You  know  that  Serpents  generally  are  Enemies  to 
Mankind. 

Joh.  I  know  there  is  an  old  Enmity  betwixt  them  and 
us,  an  irreconcileable  one  ;  which  will  be  so  as  long  as 
we  remember  that  unlucky  Apple. 

Eph.  Do  you  know  the  Lizard  ? 

Joh.  Why  not  ? 

Eph.  There  are  very  large  green  ones  in  Italy.  This 
Creature  is  by  Nature  very  friendly  to  Mankind,  and  an 
utter  Enemy  to  Serpents. 

Joh.  How  does  this  appear  ? 

Eph.  Which  Way  soever  a  Man  turns  his  Face  they 
will  gather  about  him,  turn  their  Heads  towards  him, 
look  steadfastly  in  his  Face,  and  view  him  a  long  Time  : 
If  he  spits,  they  will  lick  up  his  Spittle  ;  nay,  I  have 
seen  'em  drink  up  a  Boy's  Piss.  They  suffer  themselves 
to  be  handled  by  Boys,  and  will  suffer  themselves  to  be 
hurt  by  them  without  doing  them  any  Harm  ;  and  if  you 
put  'em  to  your  Mouth,  they  love  to  lick  your  Spittle  ; 
but  if  you  catch  them,  and  set  them  a  fighting  together,  it 
is  wonderful  to  see  how  fierce  they  are,  and  will  not  at 
all  meddle  with  him  that  set  them  a-fighting.  If  any 
one  is  walking  in  the  Fields  in  a  hollow  Way,  by  rustling 
the  Bushes  sometimes  in  one  Place,  and  sometimes  in 
another,  they  will  make  him  take  Notice  of  them.  One 
that  is  not  acquainted  with  it,  would  think  they  were 
Serpents  ;  when  you  look  at  them  they  turn  their  Heads 
to  look  at  you  till  you  stand  still  ;  if  you  go  on,  they 
follow  you  ;  and  if  a  Man  be  doing  any  Thing,  they  will 
make  him  take  Notice  of  them.  You  would  think  they 
were  sporting,  and  mightily  delighted  with  the  Sight  of 
a  Man. 


Friendship  219 

Joh.  'Tis  very  admirable. 

Eph.  I  saw  once  a  very  large  and  charming  green 
Lizard  fighting  with  a  Serpent,  at  the  Entrance  of  a  Hole  ; 
I  wondred  at  first  what  was  the  Meaning  of  it,  for  I 
could  not  see  the  Serpent  ;  an  Italian  told  me  that  the 
Serpent  was  within  ;  by  and  by  the  Lizard  comes  to  us, 
as  it  were  shewing  us  her  Wounds,  and  begging  a 
Remedy,  and  did  not  only  suffer  herself  to  be  touch'd, 
but  as  often  as  we  stood  still  she  stood  still,  viewing  us 
very  earnestly.  The  Serpent  had  almost  gnawed  away 
one  of  her  Sides,  and  of  green  had  made  it  red. 

Joh.  Had  I  been  there,  I  should  have  had  a  Mind  to 
avenge  the  Lizard's  Quarrel. 

Eph.  But  her  Enemy  had  hid  herself  in  the  bottom  of 
the  Hole  :  But  some  Days  after  we  had  the  Pleasure  to 
see  her  revenge  herself. 

Joh.  I  am  glad  at  my  Heart  ;  but  prithee  how  was  it  ? 

Eph.  We  happened  to  be  walking  near  the  same 
Place,  and  the  Serpent  had  been  drinking  at  a  Spring 
hard  by,  for  it  was  so  violent  hot  Weather,  that  we  were 
like  to  perish  with  Thirst.  A  Boy  of  about  thirteen 
Years  old,  the  Man's  Son  where  we  lodg'd,  having  fled 
from  Bononia  for  Fear  of  the  Pestilence,  happen'd  very 
luckily  to  come  by,  with  a  Hay-Rake  upon  his  Shoulder  ; 
as  soon  as  he  saw  the  Serpent  he  cries  out. 

Joh.  Perhaps  for  Fear. 

Eph.  No,  for  Joy,  rejoicing  that  he  had  found  the 
Enemy.  The  Boy  strikes  him  with  the  Rake,  the 
Serpent  rolls  himself  up  ;  but  he  laid  on,  till,  having 
broke  his  Head,  the  Serpent  stretch'd  himself  out,  which 
they  never  do  but  when  they  are  dying;  that's  the 
Reason  that  you  have  heard  the  Apologist,  concerning  a 
Crab-Fish,1  who  killing  a  Serpent  that  was  his  Enemy, 
when  he  saw  him  stretch'd  out,  says  thus,  '  You  ought  to 
have  gone  so  when  you  were  alive.' 

Joh.  That  was  bravely  done  ;  but  how  then  ? 

Eph.  The  Boy  takes  him  upon  his  Rake,  and  hangs 


22O  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

him  upon  a  Shrub  over  the  Cave,  and  in  a  few  Days 
Time  we  saw  the  Leaves  tinctur'd  with  the  Blood  of  the 
Serpent.  The  Husbandmen  of  that  Place  related  to  us 
a  wonderful  strange  Thing  for  a  certain  Truth  ;  that  the 
Countrymen,  being  weary  sometimes,  sleep  in  that  Field, 
and  have  sometimes  with  them  a  Pitcher  of  Milk,  which 
serves  both  for  Victuals  and  Drink  ;  that  Serpents  are 
great  Lovers  of  Milk,  and  so  it  often  happens,  that  they 
come  in  their  Way  :  But  they  have  a  Remedy  for  that. 

Joh.  Pray  what  is  it? 

Eph.  They  dawb  the  Brims  of  the  Pitcher  with 
Garlick,  and  the  Smell  of  that  drives  away  the  Serpents. 

Joh.  What  does  Horace  mean  then,  when  he  says 
Garlick  is  a  Poison  more  hurtful  than  Henbane,  when 
you  say  it  is  an  Antidote  against  Poison? 

Eph.  But  hear  a  little,  I  have  something  to  tell  you 
that  is  worse  than  that  :  They  often  creep  slily  into  the 
Mouth  of  a  Man,  that  lies  sleeping  with  his  Mouth  open, 
and  so  wind  themselves  into  his  Stomach. 

Joh.  And,  does  not  a  Man  die  immediately,  that  has 
entertain'd  such  a  Guest  ? 

Eph.  No,  but  lives  most  miserably ;  nor  is  there  any 
Remedy,  but  to  feed  the  Man  with    Milk,  and  other 
Things  that  the  Serpent  loves. 
Joh.  What,  no  Remedy  against  such  a  Calamity  ? 

Eph.  Yes,  to  eat  Abundance  of  Garlick. 

Joh.  No  Wonder  then,  Mowers  love  Garlick. 

Eph.  But  those  that  are  tired  with  Heat  and  Labour, 
have  their  Remedy  another  Way  ;  for,  when  they  are  in 
Danger  of  this  Misfortune,  very  often  a  Lizard,  though 
but  a  little  Creature,  saves  a  Man. 

Joh.  How  can  he  save  him  ? 

Eph.  When  he  perceives  a  Serpent  lying  perdue,  in 
Wait  for  the  Man,  he  runs  about  upon  the  Man's  Neck 
and  Face,  and  never  gives  over,  till  he  has  waked  the 
Man  by  tickling  him,  and  clawing  him  gently  with  his 
Nails  ;  and  as  soon  as  the  Man  wakes,  and  sees  the 


Friendship  221 

Lizard  near  him,  he  knows  the  Enemy  is  somewhere  not 
far  off  in  Ambuscade  ;  and  looking  about,  seizes  him. 

Joh.  The  wonderful  Power  of  Nature  ! 

Eph.  Now,  there  is  no  living  Creature  that  is  so  great 
an  Enemy  to  a  Man  as  a  Crocodile,  who  oftentimes 
devours  Men  whole,  and  assists  his  Malice  by  an  Artifice  ; 
having  sucked  in  Water,  he  makes  the  Paths  slippery 
where  they  go  to  the  Nile  to  draw  Water,  and  when  they 
fall  down,  there  swallows  'em  up.  Nor  can  you  be 
ignorant,  that  Dolphins,  that  live  in  a  quite  different 
Element,  are  great  Lovers  of  Men. 

Joh.  I  have  heard  a  very  famous  Story  of  a  Boy  who 
was  beloved  by  one  ;  and  a  more  famous  one  than  that, 
about  Arion. 

Eph.  Besides  that,  in  catching  Mullets  the  Fishermen 
make  Use  of  the  Assistance  of  Dolphins  instead  of  Dogs  ; 
and  when  they  have  caught  their  Prey,  give  them  Part 
for  their  Pains.  Nay,  more  than  that,  they  suffer 
themselves  to  be  chastised,  if  they  commit  any  Fault  in 
their  hunting  them.  They  frequently  appear  to  Mariners 
at  Sea,  rejoicing  and  playing  upon  the  Top  of  the 
Waves  ;  sometimes  swimming  to  the  Ship  Sides,  and 
leaping  over  the  spread  Sails,  they  are  so  delighted  with 
the  Conversation  of  Men.  But  again,  as  a  Dolphin  is 
so  very  great  a  Lover  of  Men,  so  he  is  a  mortal  Enemy 
to  the  Crocodile.  He  goes  out  of  the  Sea,  and  dares  to 
venture  into  the  River  Nile,  where  the  Crocodile 
domineers,  and  attacks  the  monstrous  Animal  that  is 
defended  with  Teeth,  Claws,  and  Scales  more  impene 
trable  than  Iron  ;  when  he  himself  is  not  very  well 
framed  for  biting  neither,  his  Mouth  inclining  to  his 
Breast  :  Yet,  for  all  that,  he  runs  violently  upon  his 
Enemy,  and  coming  near  him,  diveth  down  on  a  sudden, 
gets  under  his  Belly,  and  setting  up  his  Fins,  pricks  him 
in  the  soft  Part  of  his  Belly  ;  which  is  the  only  Place  he 
can  be  wounded  in. 
Joh.  It  is  a  wonderful  Thing,  that  an  Animal  should 


222  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

know  his  Enemy,  tho'  he  never  saw  him  before  in  his 
Life  ;  and  to  know,  both  why  he  should  be  attack'd,  and 
where  he  can  be  hurt,  and  how  to  defend  himself,  when 
a  Man  has  not  that  Faculty  ;  who  would  not  have  Sense 
enough  to  be  afraid  of  a  Basilisk,  unless  he  were  warned 
before-Hand,  and  taught  by  having  received  Harm. 

Eph.  A  Horse,  you  know,  is  a  Creature  devoted  to 
the  Service  of  Man  ;  and  there  is  a  capital  Enmity 
between  him  and  a  Bear,  that  is  an  Enemy  to  Man  :  He 
knows  his  Enemy,  tho'  he  has  never  seen  him  before, 
and  presently  prepares  himself  to  engage  him. 

Joh.  What  Arms  does  he  fight  with  ? 

Eph.  Rather  with  Art  than  Strength  :  He  leaps  over 
the  Enemy,  and  strikes  his  hind  Legs  on  his  Head. 
The  Bear,  on  the  other  Hand,  claws  at  the  soft  Part  of 
the  Horse's  Belly.  The  Poison  of  an  Asp  is  incurable 
to  a  man  ;  and  the  Ichneumon  makes  war  with  the  Asp, 
and  is  likewise  a  mortal  Enemy  to  the  Crocodile.  An 
Elephant  is  also  very  well  affected  toward  Mankind  ; 
for  they  very  kindly  shew  the  Way  to  a  Traveller  that 
has  happened  to  lose  it  ;  and  they  know  and  love  their 
Teacher.  There  are  likewise  Examples  of  an  extra 
ordinary  Love  toward  Mankind  :  For,  one  of  them  fell 
in  Love  with  an  /Egyptian  Maid  that  sold  Garlands  that 
was  beloved  of  Aristophanes  the  Grammarian ;  and 
another  lov'd  Menander  a  Youth  of  Syracuse  so 
affectionately,  that  he  would  not  eat  his  Victuals  when 
he  was  out  of  his  Sight.2  But  not  to  mention  any  more 
of  this  Nature,  tho'  there  is  Abundance  related  :  When 
King  Bocchus  had  a  Mind  to  exercise  his  Cruelty 
toward  30  Persons,  he  determined  to  expose  them, 
bound  to  Stakes,  to  so  many  Elephants ;  but  they  that 
were  sent  out  among  the  Elephants,  to  provoke  them, 
could  never  bring  them  to  be  executioners  of  the  King's 
Cruelty.  There  is  likewise  a  very  destructive  Antipathy 
between  this  Creature,  so  friendly  to  Mankind,  and  the 
Indian  Dragons,  which  are  reported  to  be  the  largest 


Friendship  223 

that  are  ;  so  that  they  oftentimes  both  perish  in  the 
Engagement.  There  is  the  like  Disagreement  between 
the  Eagle  and  the  lesser  Dragon,  altho'  it  is  harmless 
towards  Men  ;  as  it  has  been  reported  to  have  borne 
amorous  Affections  towards  certain  Maidens.  There  is 
likewise  a  deadly  Enmity  between  the  Eagle  and  the 
Cymindis,  or  Night-Hawk.  And  also  an  Elephant 
hates  a  Mouse,  a  troublesome  Creature  to  Mankind, 
and  won't  touch  a  Bit  of  Provender  that  it  sees  a 
Mouse  in  ;  nor  is  there  any  manifest  Cause  why  it  hates 
him  so  :  It  is  with  good  Reason  it  hates  the  Horse- 
Leech  ;  because  if  it  happens  to  sup  it  up  in  its  Drink, 
it  torments  him  miserably.  There  is  scarce  any  Animal 
that  is  more  friendly  to  Man  than  a  Dog  is,  nor  a 
greater  Enemy  to  him  than  a  Wolf,  so  that  a  Man  loses 
his  Speech  if  he  sees  him  ;  and  between  these  two  there 
is  the  utmost  Discord  ;  as  a  Wolf  is  the  most  bitter 
Enemy  to  Sheep,  which  have  their  Dependance  merely 
upon  the  Providence  of  Mankind,  whose  Care  it  is  to 
defend  this  harmless  Creature  made  for  the  Nourish 
ment  of  Man.  They  are  all  in  arms  against  the  Wolf, 
as  against  the  common  Enemy  of  Mankind,  especially 
the  whole  Army  of  Dogs  ;  so  that  it  is  grown  into  a 
Proverb,  '  I  '11  give  you  no  more  Quarter  than  a  Dog 
does  to  a  Wolf/'  The  Sea- Hare  is  an  incurable  Poison 
to  Mankind,  if  any  Body  taste  it  unawares  ;  again,  on 
the  other  Hand,  the  Touch  of  a  Man  is  Death  to  that 
Hare.  A  Panther  is  a  very  fierce  Beast  towards  a  Man ; 
and  yet  is  so  afraid  of  a  Hyaena,  that  it  does  not  dare  to 
engage  him  ;  and  hence  they  say,  that  if  any  Body  carry 
a  Piece  of  a  Hyaena  Skin  about  him,  a  Panther  won't 
set  upon  him,  there  is  such  a  Sagacity  in  their  natural 
Sense  :  and  they  add  also,  that  if  you  hang  their  two 
Skins  one  over  against  the  other,  the  Panther  Hair  will 
fall  off.  A  Spider  is  an  Animal  that  is  one  of  a  Man's 
own  Family,  but  is  very  destructive  to  a  serpent  ;  so 
that  if  he  happen  to  see  a  Serpent  sunning  himself 


224  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

under  a  Tree,  it  will  spin  down  and  fix  his  Sting  so 
sharply  in  his  Forehead,  that  the  Serpent  will  roll  him 
self  up  and  die  at  last.  I  have  heard  it  told  by  those 
that  have  seen  it,  that  there  is  the  like  Enmity  between 
a  Toad  and  a  Spider  ;  but  that  the  Toad  cures  himself, 
when  he  is  wounded,  by  biting  of  a  Plantane  Leaf.  I  '11 
tell  you  an  English  Story  :  I  suppose  you  know  'tis  the 
Custom  there  to  strew  the  Floor  with  green  Rushes4;  a 
certain  Monk  had  carried  some  Bundles  of  these  Rushes 
into  his  Chamber,  to  strew  them  at  his  Leisure  ;  and 
happening  to  take  a  Nap  after  Dinner,  a  great  Toad 
creeps  out  and  gets  upon  his  Mouth  while  he  lay  asleep, 
fixing  his  Feet,  two  upon  his  upper  and  two  upon  his 
under  Lip.  To  draw  off  the  Toad  was  certain  Death  ; 
to  let  him  be  there  was  worse  than  Death  itself.  Some 
persuaded  that  the  Monk  should  be  carried  and  laid 
upon  his  Back  in  the  Window  where  a  great  Spider  had 
his  Web.  It  was  done  :  The  Spider  presently  seeing 
her  Enemy,  spins  down,  darts  her  Sting  into  the  Toad, 
and  runs  up  again  to  her  Web  ;  the  Toad  swelled,  but 
was  not  gotten  off.  The  Spider  spins  down  a  second 
Time,  and  gives  him  another  Wound  ;  it  swells  more, 
but  still  is  alive  :  The  Spider  repeats  it  a  third  Time  ; 
then  the  Toad  takes  off  his  Feet  and  drops  off  dead. 
This  Piece  of  Service  the  Spider  did  her  Landlord. 

Joh.  You  tell  me  a  wonderful  strange  Story. 

Eph.  I  '11  tell  you  now  not  what  I  have  heard,  but 
what  I  have  seen  with  my  own  Eyes.  An  Ape  has  an 
unmeasurable  Aversion  to  a  Tortoise  ;  a  certain  Person 
gave  me  a  Specimen  of  this  when  I  was  at  Rome  :  He 
set  a  Tortoise  upon  the  Head  of  his  Servant,  and  put 
his  Hat  upon  it,  and  then  brought  him  to  the  Monkey  ; 
the  Ape  presently,  with  much  Alacrity,  leaps  upon  the 
Lad's  Shoulders  to  catch  Lice  in  his  Head,  and  taking 
off  his  Hat  spies  the  Tortoise.  It  was  amazing  to  see 
with  what  Horror  he  leap'd  away,  how  frighted  he  was, 
and  with  what  Fearfulness  he  look'd  back  to  see  whether 


Friendship  225 

the  Tortoise  follow'd  him  or  not.  There  was  likewise 
another  Specimen  :  The  Tortoise  was  tied  to  the 
Monkey's  Chain,  that  he  could  not  avoid  seeing  him. 
It  is  incredible  how  much  he  was  tormented  ;  he  was 
almost  dead  with  Fear :  sometimes  turning  his  Back, 
he  would  endeavour  to  beat  off  the  Tortoise  with  his 
hinder  Feet  ;  at  last,  he  piss'd  and  shit  towards  him  all 
that  was  in  his  Belly,  and  with  the  Fright  fell  into  such 
a  Fever,  that  we  were  forced  to  let  him  loose,  and  put 
him  into  a  Bath  made  of  Wine  and  Water. 

Joh.  There  was  no  Reason  that  the  Monkey  should 
be  afraid  of  the  Tortoise. 

Eph.  There  may,  perhaps,  be  something  natural  in  it, 
that  we  are  not  acquainted  with.  Why  a  Linnet  should 
hate  an  Ass,  is  easily  accounted  for ;  because  he  rubs 
himself  against  the  Thorns,  and  eats  off  the  Flowers  of 
the  Hedge  where  she  makes  her  Nest ;  and  she  is  so 
affrighted  at  the  sight  of  an  Ass,  that  if  she  hear  him 
bray,  tho'  it  be  a  great  Way  off,  she  throws  down  her 
Eggs,  and  her  young  ones  fall  out  of  the  Nest  for  Fear. 
But,  however,  she  does  not  suffer  him  to  pass  un- 
revenged. 

Joh.  How  can  a  Linnet  do  any  Hurt  to  an  Ass  ? 

Eph.  She  pecks  his  sore  Back,  that  is  gall'd  with 
Blows  and  Burdens,  and  the  soft  Part  of  his  Nose.  We 
may  also  guess  at  the  Cause,  why  there  is  a  mutual 
Grudge  between  the  Fox  and  the  Kite,  because  the 
ravenous  Fowl  is  always  lying  Wait  to  catch  the  Foxes 
Whelps  ;  and  very  likely,  on  the  other  Hand,  that  the 
Fox  does  the  same  by  her  young  ones  ;  which  is  the 
Cause  of  the  Dissension  between  the  Rat  and  the 
Heron.  And  the  same  Reason  may  be  given  for 
the  Enmity  between  the  little  Bird  calFd  a  Merlin  and 
the  Fox  ;  the  Merlin  breaks  the  Crows  Eggs  ;  the  Foxes 
persecute  them,  and  they  the  Foxes,  pecking  their 
Whelps,  which  the  Crows  seeing,  join  their  Assistance, 
as  against  a  common  Enemy.  But  I  can't  find  out  any 
VOL.  III.  P 


226  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Reason,  why  the  Swan  and  the  Eagle,  the  Raven  and 
the  Green-Bird,  the  Rook  and  the  Owl,  the  Eagle  and 
the  Wren,  should  hate  one  another ;  unless  it  be  that 
the  latter  hates  the  Eagle  because  he  is  called  the  King 
of  Birds.  Why  should  an  Owl  be  an  Enemy  to  small 
Birds,  a  Weesel  to  a  Crow,  a  Turtle-Dove  to  a  Candle- 
Fly,  the  Ichneumon  (Indian  Rats)  Wasps  to  the  Spiders 
call'd  Phalangiae,  Ducks  to  Sea-Gulls,  the  Harpe  to  the 
Buzzard-Hawk,  the  Wolf  to  the  Lion  ?  And  besides, 
why  should  Rats  have  an  Aversion  to  a  Tree  where 
Ants  are  ?  Why  is  there  so  irreconcileable  an  Enmity 
between  a  Beetle  and  an  Eagle?  For  the  Fable  was 
framed  from  the  Nature  of  that  Animal.  Hence  it  is, 
that  near  to  Olynthus,  in  a  certain  Place,  Beetles  will 
not  live  if  they  are  brought  into  it.  And  then  again, 
between  Creatures  that  live  in  the  Water ;  what  Reason 
is  there  why  the  Mullet  and  the  Pike  mutually  hate  one 
another,  as  the  Conger  and  Lamprey,  that  gnaw  one 
another's  Tails?  The  Lobster  has  such  an  Hatred  to 
the  Polypus,  that  if  it  chance  to  see  it  near  him,  he  dies 
with  Fear.  On  the  contrary,  a  certain  hidden  Affection 
of  Good- Will  has  united  other  Creatures,  as  Peacocks 
and  Doves,  Turtles  and  Parrots,  Black-birds  and 
Thrushes,  Crows  and  Herns,  who  mutually  assist  one 
another  against  the  Fox ;  the  Harpe  and  Kite  against 
the  Triorche,  which  is  a  Kind  of  Hawk,  and  a  common 
Enemy  to  'em.  The  Musculus,  a  little  Fish  swimming 
before  the  Whale,  is  a  Guide  to  him  ;  nor  does  it  appear 
why  he  is  thus  serviceable  to  him.  For,  that  the 
Crocodile  opens  his  Jaws  for  the  little  Wren,  is  not  to  be 
attributed  to  Friendship,  when  either  Creature  is  led  by 
its  own  Advantage.  The  Crocodile  loves  to  have  his 
Teeth  cleansed,  and  therefore  embraces  the  Pleasure  of 
having  them  pick'd  ;  and  the  Wren  seeks  her  Food, 
feeding  upon  the  Fragments  of  Fish  that  stick  in  the 
other's  Teeth  :  And  for  the  same  Reason,  a  Crow  rides 
upon  a  Sow's  Back.  There  is  such  a  stubborn  Enmity 


Friendship  227 

between  the  Anthus  and  /Egythus,  that  it  is  affirmed 
their  Blood  will  not  mingle  one  with  the  other  ;  just  as  it 
is  related  of  other  Birds,  that  their  Feathers  will  consume 
away  if  they  be  mingled  with  those  of  the  Eagle.  A 
Hawk  is  a  deadly  Enemy  to  the  Dove  Kind,  but  the 
little  Bird  the  Kestrel  defends  them  ;  for  a  Hawk  is 
wonderfully  afraid  either  to  see  or  hear  that  Bird.  Nor 
are  the  Pigeons  ignorant  of  this ;  wheresoever  the 
Kestrel  has  her  Nest,  they'll  never  leave  that  Place, 
relying  upon  their  Defenders.  Who  can  give  a  Reason 
why  a  Kestrel  should  be  so  friendly  to  Pigeons,  or  why 
a  Hawk  should  be  so  afraid  of  a  Kestrel?  And  as  a 
very  little  Animal  is  sometimes  a  Safeguard  to  a  great 
Beast ;  so  on  the  contrary,  a  very  little  one  is  often  a 
Destruction  to  a  great  one.  There  is  a  little  Fish  in  the 
form  of  a  Scorpion,  and  of  the  Size  of  the  Fish  Quaquiner ; 
he  sometimes  sticks  his  Sting  into  the  Fin  of  Tunnies, 
that  often  are  bigger  than  a  Dolphin,  and  puts  them  to 
that  Torture,  that  they  sometimes  leap  into  Ships  ;  and 
the  same  he  does  to  the  Mullet.  What  should  be  the 
Reason  that  a  Lion,  that  is  terrible  to  all  Animals,  should 
be  struck  with  Fear  at  hearing  a  Cock  crow  ? 

Joh.  That  I  may  not  be  altogether  Shot-free  in  this 
Entertainment,  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  saw  with  my  own 
Eyes,  in  the  House  of  that  famous  Englishman  Sir 
Thomas  More  :  He  kept  in  his  House  a  large  Monkey, 
who,  that  he  might  the  sooner  get  well  of  a  Wound  he 
had  received,  was  suffer'd  to  go  loose.  At  the  End  of 
the  Garden  there  were  Rabbets  kept  in  Hutches,  and  a 
Weesel  used  to  watch  them  very  narrowly.  The 
Monkey  sitting  aloof  off,  quietly,  as  tho'  unconcern'd, 
observ'd  all  his  Motions,  till  he  saw  the  Rabbets  were  in 
no  Danger  from  him.  But  perceiving  the  Weesel  had 
loosened  a  Board  in  the  back  Part  of  the  Hutch,  and 
that  now  they  were  in  Danger  to  be  attack'd  in  the 
Rear,  and  so  be  made  a  Prey  to  their  Enemy,  the  Ape 
runs,  jumps  up  on  the  Plank,  and  put  it  into  its  former 


228  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Place,  with  as  much  Dexterity  as  any  Man  could  have 
done.  From  whence  'tis  plain,  that  Apes  are  great 
Lovers  of  this  Animal.  So  the  Coneys,  not  knowing 
their  own  Danger,  that  used  to  kiss  their  Enemy  through 
the  Grate,  were  preserved  by  the  Monkey. 

Eph.  Apes  are  mightily  delighted  with  all  young 
Whelps,  and  love  to  hug  them,  and  carry  them  about  in 
their  Arms.  But  that  good-natur'd  Monkey  did  really 
deserve  to  be  made  Amends  for  his  Kindness. 

Joh.  And  he  was  too. 

Eph.  How? 

Joh.  He  found  there  a  Piece  of  Bread  that  had,  I 
suppose,  been  thrown  there  by  the  Children,  which  he 
took  up  and  ate. 

Eph.  But  it  seems  most  admirable  to  me,  that  this 
Kind  of  Sympathy  and  Antipathy,  as  the  Greeks  call  a 
natural  Affection  of  Friendship  and  Enmity,  should  be 
found  even  in  Things  that  have  neither  Life  nor  Sense. 
I  omit  to  mention  the  Ash-Tree,  the  very  Shadow  of 
which  a  Serpent  can't  endure  ;  so  that  how  far  soever  it 
spreads,  if  you  make  a  Circle  of  Fire  of  the  same 
Bigness,  the  Serpent  will  sooner  go  into  the  Fire  than 
into  the  Shadow  of  the  Tree.  For  there  are  Examples 
innumerable  of  this  Kind.  Moths  included  in  Parch 
ment,  are  transformed  into  Butterflies,  by  some  secret 
Workmanship  of  Nature,  tho'  they  seem  as  if  they  were 
dead,  and  stir  not  if  you  touch  them,  unless  a  Spider 
creep  near  them  ;  then  only  they  appear  to  be  alive  : 
They  can't  feel  the  Touch  of  a  Man's  Finger ;  but  they 
feel  the  Feet  of  a  very  small  Animal  crawling. 

Joh.  An  Insect,  before  it  is  alive,  can  be  sensible  of 
his  capital  Enemy.  That  which  is  related  concerning 
Persons  murdered  is  very  like  this  ;  to  whom  if  other 
Persons  approach,  there  is  no  Alteration  ;  but  if  he  that 
killed  them  comes  nigh,  presently  Blood  flows  fresh  out 
of  the  Wound ;  and,  they  say,  that  by  this  Token  the 
Author  of  a  Murder  has  been  often  discovered. 


Friendship  229 

Eph.  What  you  have  heard,  as  to  that  Matter,  is  no 
Fiction.  But,  not  to  mention  Democritical  Stories,6  do 
we  not  find  by  Experience,  that  there  is  a  mighty 
Disagreement  between  an  Oak  and  an  Olive-Tree,  that 
they  will  both  die  if  they  be  planted  into  the  Ground  of 
each  other?  And  that  an  Oak  is  so  opposite  to  a 
Walnut-Tree,  that  it  will  die  tho'  it  be  set  at  a  good 
Distance  from  it  ;  and  indeed  a  Walnut-Tree  is  hurtful 
to  most  Sorts  of  Plants  and  Trees.  Again,  tho'  a  Vine 
will  twine  its  Sprigs  round  all  other  Things  else,  yet  it 
shuns  a  Colewort ;  and.  as  tho'  it  were  sensible  of  it, 
turns  itself  another  Way,  as  if  some  Person  gave  the 
Vine  Notice  that  his  Enemy  was  near  at  Hand.  The 
Juice  of  Coleworts  is  a  Thing  contrary  to  Wine,  and 
they  are  used  to  be  eaten  against  Drunkenness  :  But  the 
Colewort  has  its  Enemy  too  ;  for,  if  it  be  set  near  the 
Herb  called  Sow-Bread,  or  wild  Marjoram,  it  will  wither 
presently.  There  is  the  like  Disposition  between 
Hemlock  and  Wine  ;  as  Hemlock  is  Poison  to  a  Man, 
so  is  Wine  to  Hemlock.  What  secret  Commerce  is 
there  between  the  Lily  and  the  Garlick,  that  growing 
near  to  one  another,  they  seem,  as  it  were,  mutually  to 
congratulate  one  another  ?  The  Garlick  is  the  stronger, 
but  the  Lily-Flower  smells  the  sweeter.  Why  should  I 
speak  of  the  Marriage  of  Trees  one  with  another?  the 
Females  being  barren  unless  the  Male  grows  near  them. 
Oil  will  only  mix  with  Chalk ;  and  both  of  them  have 
an  Antipathy  to  Water.  Pitch  attracts  Oil,  tho'  they 
are  both  fat  Things.  All  Things  but  Gold  swim  in 
Quicksilver,  and  that  only  draws  it  to  itself  and  embraces 
it.  What  Sense  of  Nature  is  that  which  seems  to  be  in 
a  Diamond,  that  will  resist  every  Thing  that  is  hard,  but 
grow  soft  in  a  Goat's  Blood  ?  Nay,  you  may  see  an 
Antipathy  even  in  Poisons  themselves.  A  Scorpion,  if 
it  chance  to  creep  thro'  Henbane,  grows  pale  and 
benumbed.  And  the  Herb  Cerastis  is  so  noxious  to  a 
Scorpion,  that  he  that  handles  the  Seed  of  it,  may  take 


230  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

a  Scorpion  into  his  Hand.  There  are  Abundance  of 
Things  of  this  Kind,  but  the  Consideration  of  them 
more  properly  belongs  to  Physicians.  What  a  mighty 
Power  of  either  Sympathy  or  Antipathy  is  there  between 
the  Steel  and  the  Loadstone,  that  a  Matter  heavy  by 
Nature  should  run  to,  and  cleave  to  a  Stone,  as  tho'  it 
kissed  it ;  and  without  touching  it,  should  fly  backward  ? 
And  as  to  Water,  which  readily  mingles  with  all  Things, 
but  most  of  all  with  itself;  yet  there  are  some  Waters 
which,  as  tho'  they  hated  one  another,  will  not  mix  ;  as 
for  instance,  the  River  flowing  into  the  Lake  Fucinus, 
runs  over  it ;  as  Addua  does  to  Larius,  as  Ticinus  to 
Verbanus,  Mincius  to  Benacus,  Ollius  to  Sevinus, 
Rhodanus  to  Lemanus  :  some  of  which  for  many  Miles 
only  carry  their  hospitable  Streams  thro'  'em,  and  go 
out  just  as  much  and  no  more  than  they  came  in.  The 
River  Tygris  flows  into  the  Lake  Arethusa,  and  is  carried 
thro'  it  like  a  Passenger,  that  neither  the  Colour,  the 
Fish,  nor  the  Nature  of  the  Water  intermixes  one  with 
the  other.  And  besides,  whereas  other  Rivers  generally 
seem  as  it  were  in  Haste  to  flow  into  the  Sea  ;  yet  some 
Rivers,  as  tho'  they  had  an  Aversion  to  it  before  they 
come  at  it,  hide  themselves  in  the  Earth.  There  is 
something  of  a  like  Nature  to  be  observed  concerning 
the  Winds  ;  the  South  Wind  is  pestilential  to  Mankind  ; 
the  North  Wind,  on  the  contrary,  healthful ;  one  collects 
the  Clouds,  the  other  scatters  them.  And  if  we  may- 
believe  Astrologers,  there  is  a  certain  Sympathy  and 
Antipathy  in  the  very  Stars  themselves,  some  are  friendly 
to  Mankind,  and  others  hurtful ;  and  some  are  helpful 
to  a  Man  against  the  Influences  of  the  noxious  ones  : 
So  that  there  is  nothing  in  Nature,  but  by  these 
Sympathies  and  Antipathies,  brings  a  Man  Injuries  and 
Remedies. 

Joh.  And  perhaps  you  may  find  something  above  the 
Skies  too  ;  for  if  we  believe  the  Magi,  there  are  two 
Geniuses,  a  good  and  a  bad,  that  attend  every  Man. 


Friendship  231 

Eph.  I  think  it's  very  well,  and  enough  for  us  that  we 
are  got  so  far  as  Heaven,  without  passing  over  the  Limits 
of  it.  But  let  us  return  to  Oxen  and  Horses. 

Joh.  In  Truth  you  make  a  very  fine  Transition. 

Eph.  It  is  the  more  admirable  to  us,  that  in  the  same 
Species  of  Animals  we  find  manifest  Footsteps  of 
Sympathy  and  Antipathy,  no  Cause  of  it  appearing  : 
For  so  your  Horse-Coursers  and  Herdsmen  endeavour 
to  persuade  us,  that  in  the  same  Pastures,  and  the  same 
Stable,  one  Horse  shall  desire  to  have  one  Horse  nigh 
him,  and  won't  endure  another.  Indeed,  I  am  of 
Opinion,  that  there  is  the  like  Affection  in  all  Kind  of 
living  Creatures,  besides  the  Favour  of  Sex ;  but  is  in 
no  Kind  so  evident,  as  it  is  in  Man.  For  what  Catullus 
expresses  of  his  Volusius  G  concerning  his  Affection  of 
Mind,  is  manifest  in  a  great  many  others  : 

/  love  thee  not,  Volusius;  and  if  t ho  a  askest  why  ? 
I  love  thee  not,  Volusius,  is  all  I  can  reply. 

But  in  adult  Persons,  a  Person  may  conjecture  another 
Cause  :  In  Children  that  are  only  led  by  the  Sense  of 
Nature,  what  can  it  be  that  makes  a  Child  love  one  so 
dearly,  and  have  such  an  Aversion  to  another?  I 
myself,  when  I  was  a  Boy  not  eight  Years  of  Age, 
happen'd  to  fall  into  the  Acquaintance  of  one  of  my  own 
Age,  or  perhaps  a  Year  older,  of  so  vain  a  Humour,  that 
upon  every  Occasion  he  would  invent,  without  study, 
most  monstrous  Lyes.  If  he  met  a  Woman,  he  would 
say  to  me,  'Do  you  see  that  Woman  ?'  I  answered 
'  Yes,  I  see  her.'  '  Why,'  says  he,  '  I  have  lain  with  her 
ten  Times.'  If  we  went  over  a  narrow  Bridge,  nigh  a 
Mill,  when  he  perceiv'd  me  shock'd  at  the  Sight  of  the 
Water  looking  black  by  Reason  of  the  Depth,  he'd  say, 
'  I  fell  into  this  Place  once,  what  say  you  to  that  ?  And 
there  I  found  the  dead  Body  of  a  Man,  with  a  Purse  tied 
about  him,  and  three  Rings  in  it.'  And  thus  he  would 
do  continually.  And  tho'  it  is  common  for  others  to  be 


232  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

delighted  with  such  Romances  as  these,  I  abhor'd  him 
more  than  a  Viper,  and  knew  no  Reason  for  it,  but  only 
a  certain  hidden  Instinct  in  Nature.  Nor  was  this  only 
temporary ;  but  to  this  very  Day  I  so  naturally  hate 
those  vain  lying  Persons,  that  at  the  very  Sight  of  them 
I  perceive  my  whole  Constitution  to  be  shock'd.  Homer 
takes  Notice  of  something  of  the  like  Nature  in  Achilles, 
when  he  says  he  hated  Lies  as  much  as  the  Gates  of 
Hell.  But  tho'  I  was  born  with  this  natural  Disposition  ; 
yet,  contrary  to  it,  I  seem  to  have  been  born  to  have  to 
do  with  Liars  and  Impostors  thro'  the  whole  Course  of 
my  Life. 

Joh.  But  I  don't  take  in  what  this  tends  to. 

Eph.  I  '11  tell  you  in  a  few  Words  :  There  are  some 
that  fetch  their  Felicity  from  Magical  Arts,  others  from 
the  Stars ;  I  think  there  is  no  surer  Way  of  coming  at 
it,  than  if  every  one  would  abstain  from  that  Sort  of  Life 
that  he  has  a  natural  Aversion  to,  and  betake  himself  to 
that  he  has  a  natural  Inclination  to,  always  excluding 
those  Things  that  are  dishonest ;  and  that  he  would 
withdraw  himself  from  the  Conversation  of  those,  whose 
Disposition  he  perceives  does  not  agree  with  his  own  ; 
and  join  himself  with  such  as  he  finds  he  has  a  natural 
Propensity  to. 

Joh.  If  that  were  done,  there  would  be  Friendship 
between  some  few. 

Eph.  Christian  Charity  extends  itself  to  all ;  but 
Familiarity  is  to  be  contracted  with  but  few  :  And  he 
that  does  no  hurt  to  any  Body,  tho'  he  be  bad,  and 
would  rejoice  if  he  would  grow  better,  in  my  Opinion, 
loves  all  as  becomes  a  Christian  to  do. 


PROBLEMA 

THE   ARGUMENT 

Problema  treats  of  what  is  heavy  and  light.  That  the 
Earth  is  the  Center  of  heavy  Bodies.  What  Earth  is 
heaviest,  and  what  is  lightest.  Why  Lead  is  heavier  than 
a  Stone  ;  Gold  heavier  than  Lead.  Nothing  is  more 
liquid  than  Honey  and  Oil.  A  lean  Man  is  heavier  than 
a  fat  one ;  a  Man  that 's  fasting,  than  one  that  has  eat  his 
Dinner  :  But  Sin  is  the  heaviest  Thing  of  all 

CURIO  and  ALPHIUS 

Cu.  I  should  be  glad  to  learn  something  of  you  who 
are  well  skill'd  in  many  Things,  if  it  would  not  be 
troublesome  to  you  to  inform  me. 

Al.  Well,  Curio,  go  on  then,  propose  what  Questions 
you  have  a  Mind  to,  and  be  in  Fact  what  you  are  in 
Name. 

Cu.  I  shan't  take  it  amiss  to  be  call'd  Curio,  so  you 
don't  put  that  Monosyllable  sus  [a  Sow]  to  it,  that  is 
hateful  both  to  Venus  and  Minerva,  and  makes  it 
Curiosus. 

Al.  Speak  out  then. 

Cu.  I  have  a  mighty  Mind  to  know  what  we  call 
Heavy  and  Light. 

Al.  I  may  as  well  ask  you  what  Hot  and  Cold  is  too  : 
you  should  rather  put  that  Question  to  a  Porter  than  to 
me ;  or  rather  to  an  Ass,  who  will  tell  you  when  the 
Burden  is  heavy  by  hanging  his  Ears. 

Cu.  I  expect  a  Solution,  not  such  a  one  as  an  Ass 
can  give,  but  such  as  becomes  a  Philosopher,  an  Alphius 
himself. 


234  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

AL  Heavy  is  that  which  naturally  tends  downwards, 
and  Light  that  which  mounts  upwards. 

Cu.  How  comes  it  about  then  that  the  Antipodes  who 
are  under  us,  don't  fall  into  the  Sky  that  is  under 
them? 

Al,  They  may  as  well  wonder  why  you  don't  fall  into 
the  Heaven  that  is  not  under  you  but  over  you  ;  for  the 
Heaven  is  above  all  that  are  comprehended  within  it : 
nor  are  the  Antipodes  under  you  any  more  than  you 
above  them.  Nay,  you  might  rather  wonder  why  the 
Rocks,  that  the  Earth  of  the  Antipodes  sustains,  don't 
break  and  fall  into  Heaven. 

Cu.  What  then  is  the  natural  Center  of  heavy  Bodies  ? 
and  on  the  other  Hand,  of  light  Bodies  ? 

AL  All  heavy  Things  are  by  a  natural  Motion  carried 
towards  the  Earth,  and  light  Things  towards  Heaven  : 
I  do  not  speak  of  a  violent  or  animal  Motion. 

Cu.  Why,  is  there  then  a  Motion  that  is  called  an 
animal  one  ? 

Al.  Yes,  there  is. 

Cu.  What  is  it  ? 

Al.  It  is  that  which  is  carried  according  to  the  four 
Situations  of  the  Body,  forward,  backward,  to  the  right 
and  left,  and  in  a  Circle  ;  and  in  the  Beginning  and 
End  is  swifter,  and  slowest  in  the  Middle ;  for  in  the 
Beginning,  Vigor  adds  Alacrity,  and  near  the  End  the 
Hope  of  coming  to  what  the  Animal  aims  at. 

Cu.  I  can't  tell  how  it  is  with  other  Animals  ;  but  I 
have  got  a  Maid-Servant  who  is  weary  before  she  begins, 
and  tired  before  she  ends.  But  return  to  what  you 
begun. 

Al.  I  say,  heavy  Things  are  carried  downward  by  a 
natural  Motion  ;  and  by  how  much  the  heavier  any 
Thing  is,  by  so  much  a  swifter  Motion  it  is  carried 
towards  the  Earth  ;  and  by  how  much  the  lighter  it  is, 
by  so  much  the  swifter  Motion  it  is  carried  toward 
Heaven.  It  is  quite  otherwise  in  a  violent  Motion, 


Problema  235 

which  being  swift  at  first,  grows  slower  by  Degrees  ; 
and  contrary  in  a  natural  Motion  ;  as  an  Arrow  shot 
into  the  Air,  and  a  Stone  falling  from  on  high. 

Cu.  I  used  to  think  that  Men  ran  about  upon  the 
Globe  of  the  Earth,  like  little  Ants  on  a  great  Ball  ; 
they  stick  upon  it  everywhere,  and  none  fall  off. 

AL  That  is  to  be  attributed  to  the  Ruggedness  of  the 
Globe,  and  a  certain  Roughness  in  the  Feet  of  the  Ants, 
which,  indeed,  is  common  to  all  Insects  in  a  Manner  ; 
and  lastly,  to  the  Lightness  of  their  Bodies.  If  you 
don't  believe  me,  make  a  glass  Globe  very  smooth  and 
sleek ;  you  will  see  that  only  those  Ants  don't  fall  that 
are  at  the  upper  Part  of  it. 

Cu.  If  any  God  should  bore  thro'  the  Center  of  the 
Earth,  quite  down  to  the  Antipodes,  in  a  perpendicular 
Line,  and  as  Cosmographers  use  to  represent  the 
Situation  of  the  Globe  of  the  Earth,  and  a  Stone  were 
let  fall  into  it,  whither  would  it  go? 

AL  To  the  Center  of  the  Earth ;  there  all  heavy 
Bodies  rest. 

Cu.  What  if  the  Antipodes  should  let  fall  a  Stone  on 
their  Side? 

AL  Then  one  Stone  would  meet  the  other  about  the 
Center,  and  stop  there. 

Cu.  But  hark  you,  if  what  you  said  just  now  be  true, 
that  a  natural  Motion  by  its  Progress  grew  more  and 
more  strong,  if  nothing  hinder'd,  a  Stone  or  Lead  cast 
into  the  Hole,  by  Reason  of  the  Vehemence  of  its 
Motion  it  would  pass  beyond  the  Center  ;  and  having 
got  beyond  the  Center,  the  Motion  would  grow  more 
violent. 

AL  Lead  would  never  come  to  the  Center  unless  it 
were  melted ;  but  a  Stone,  if  it  did  pass  the  Center  with 
so  violent  a  Motion,  would  go  at  first  more  heavily,  and 
return  to  the  Center  again,  just  as  a  Stone  thrown  up 
into  the  Air  returns  again  to  the  Earth. 

Cu.  But  returning  back  again  by  its  natural  Motion, 


236  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

and  again  recovering  Force,  it  would  go  beyond  the 
Center,  and  so  the  Stone  would  never  rest. 

Al.  It  would  lie  still  at  last  by  running  beyond,  and 
then  running  back  again  till  it  came  to  an  Equilibrium. 

Cu.  But  if  there  be  no  Vacuum  in  Nature,  then  that 
Hole  must  be  full  of  Air. 

Al.  Suppose  it  to  be  so. 

Cu.  Then  a  Body  that  is  by  Nature  heavy  will  hang 
in  the  Air. 

AL  Why  not?  As  Steel  does,  being  borne  up  by  the 
Loadstone  ;  what  Wonder  is  it,  that  one  Stone  hang  in 
the  very  middle  of  the  Air,  when  the  whole  Earth,  loaden 
with  so  many  Rocks,  hangs  after  the  same  Manner? 

Cu.  But  where  is  the  Center  of  the  Earth  ? 

Al.  Where  is  the  Center  of  a  Circle  ? 

Cu.  That  is  a  Point  that  is  indivisible ;  if  the  Center 
of  the  Earth  be  so  small,  whosoever  bores  thro'  the 
Center  takes  it  away,  and  then  heavy  Bodies  have  no 
where  to  tend  to. 

Al.  Now  you  talk  idly  enough. 

Cu.  Pray  don't  be  angry  ;  what  I  say  is  for  the  Sake 
of  Information.  If  any  one  should  bore  thro' the  Globe 
of  the  Earth,  and  not  thro'  the  Center  itself;  as  suppose 
one  hundred  Furlongs  aside  of  it,  where  would  a  Stone 
fall  then  ? 

Al.  It  would  not  pass  strait  thro'  the  Hole.  It  would 
indeed  go  strait,  but  to  the  Center ;  and  so  when  it 
came  to  the  Middle,  it  would  rest  in  the  Earth  on  the 
left  Hand,  if  the  Center  were  at  the  left  Hand. 

Cu.  But  what  is  it  that  makes  a  Body  heavy  or  light  ? 

Al.  That's  a  Question  fit  for  God  to  answer,  why  he 
made  Fire  the  lightest  of  all  Things,  and  Air  next  to 
that ;  the  Earth  the  Heaviest,  and  Water  next  to  that. 

Cu.  Why  then  do  watry  Clouds  hang  in  a  lofty  Air? 

Al.  Because  by  the  Attraction  of  the  Sun  they 
conceive  a  fiery  Nature,  as  Smoke  being  forc'd  by  a 
violent  Heat  out  of  green  Wood. 


Problema  237 

Cu.  Why  then  do  they  sometimes  fall  with  such  a 
Weight,  that  they  level  Mountains  into  a  Plain  ? 

Al.  Concretion  and  Density  add  a  Weight  to  them, 
and  they  may  be  imagin'd  so  to  be  borne  up  by  the  Air 
under  them,  as  a  thin  Plate  of  Iron  is  borne  up  upon  the 
Surface  of  the  Water. 

Cu.  Do  you  think  then,  that  whatsoever  has  most  of  a 
fiery  Quality  in  it  is  lightest,  and  that  which  has  most  of 
an  earthy  Quality  heaviest  ? 

Al.  You  are  right. 

Cu.  But  Air  is  not  all  of  a  Lightness,  nor  Earth  all  of 
a  Heaviness  ;  and  it  is  the  same  as  to  Water. 

AL  Nor  is  that  strange,  since  those  Things  you  have 
mentioned  are  not  pure  Elements,  but  tempered  of 
various  Elements  ;  so  that  it  is  probable,  that  Earth  is 
the  lightest  that  has  the  most  Fire  or  Air  mixt  with  it, 
and  that  Water  heaviest  that  has  the  most  Earth  which 
is  heaviest  mixt  with  it,  as,  I  think,  Sea- Water  is,  and 
that  whereof  Salt  is  made  :  And,  in  like  Manner,  that 
Air  that  is  nearest  to  Water  or  Earth  is  the  heaviest,  or, 
at  least,  it  is  certainly  not  so  light  as  that  which  is 
farther  from  the  Earth. 

Cu.  Which  has  most  of  an  earthy  Quality  in  it,  a 
Stone  or  Lead  ? 

Al.  A  Stone. 

Cu.  And  yet  Lead  is  heavier  than  a  Stone  in  Propor 
tion. 

Al.  The  Density  is  the  Cause.  That  proceeds  from 
its  Solidity :  For,  a  Stone  is  more  porous,  and  so 
contains  more  Air  in  it  than  Lead  does.  Hence  it  is, 
that  we  see  some  Sort  of  dry  Earth,  which  if  you  cast 
into  Water  will  swim,  and  not  sink  :  So  we  see  whole 
Fields  floating ;  being  borne  up  by  hollow  Roots  of 
Reeds  and  other  marshy  Herbs,  interwoven  one  with 
another. 

Cu.  Perhaps  it  is  from  this  Cause  that  a  Pumice-Stone 
is  so  light. 


240  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Lightness  of  their  Feathers,  but  also  a  Dryness  that  the 
Water  shuns  :  And  hence  it  comes  to  pass,  that  if  you 
put  Water  or  Wine  into  a  Cloth  or  Linnen  that  is  very 
dry,  it  contracts  itself  into  a  globular  Form  ;  but  put  it 
into  a  wet  one,  it  spreads  itself  presently.  And  in  like 
Manner,  if  you  pour  any  liquid  Thing  into  a  dry  cup,  or 
whose  Brims  are  greased  with  Fat,  and  pour  a  little 
more  than  the  Cup  will  hold,  the  Liquor  presently 
gathers  itself  into  a  Round  before  it  will  run  over  the 
Brim. 

Cu.  Why  can't  Ships  carry  so  much  in  Rivers  as  in 
the  Sea? 

Al.  Because  River- Water  is  of  a  thinner  Consistence  ; 
and  for  the  same  Reason  Birds  poise  themselves  with 
more  Ease  in  a  thick  Air,  than  in  a  thin  one. 

Cu.  Why  does  not  the  Fish  call'd  Flota  sink  ? 

Al.  Because  its  Skin  being  dried  in  the  Sun,  is  made 
lighter,  and  resists  Moisture. 

Cu.  Why  does  Iron  drawn  out  into  a  large  Plate 
swim,  but  being  contracted  in  a  narrow  Compass 
sink  ? 

Al.  It  is  Dryness  is  the  Cause  in  Part,  and  partly 
because  there  gets  in  an  Air  between  the  Plate  and  the 
Water. 

Cu.  Which  is  the  heaviest,  Wine  or  Water  ? 

Al.  I  believe  Wine  won't  give  Place  to  Water. 

Cu.  How  comes  it  about  then,  that  they  that  buy 
Wine  of  the  Vintners  sometimes  find  Water  in  the 
Bottom  of  the  Cask? 

AL  Because  there  is  in  Wine  a  certain  fat  Substance 
like  Oil,  that  resists  the  Water ;  the  Reason  is  plain,  by 
how  much  richer  the  Wine  is,  so  much  the  more 
difficultly  does  it  mingle  with  Water  ;  and  being  set  on 
Fire,  it  burns  the  fiercer. 

Cu.  What  is  the  Reason  that  no  living  Creature  will 
sink  in  the  Lake  Asphaltitis  ?2 

AL    I   can't    give  a  Solution    to    all    the  Miracles 


Problema  24 1 

in   Nature ;   Nature  has  some  Arcana,  that  she  will 
have  us  admire  but  not  understand. 

Cu.  Why  is  a  lean  Man  heavier  than  a  fat  Man, 
supposing  them  both  of  an  equal  Size? 

Al.  Because  Bones  are  more  solid  than  Flesh,  and 
therefore  the  more  weighty. 

Cu.  Why  is  the  same  Man  heavier  when  he  is  fasting, 
than  after  he  has  eat  his  Dinner,  and  so  added  a  Weight 
to  his  Body? 

Al.  Because  by  Meat  and  Drink  the  Spirits  are 
increased,  and  they  add  a  Lightness  to  the  Body  :  And 
hence  it  is  that  a  merry  Man  is  lighter  than  a  sorrowful 
one,  and  a  dead  Man  heavier  than  a  living  one. 

Cu.  But  how  is  it  that  the  same  Man  can  make 
himself  heavier  or  lighter  when  he  pleases? 

Al.  By  holding  in  his  Breath  he  makes  himself 
lighter,  and  by  breathing  it  out,  heavier  :  So  a  Bladder 
when  blown,  and  close  tied,  swims  ;  but  when  it  is 
burst,  sinks.  But  when  will  Curio  have  done  asking 
Questions? 

Cu.  I'll  leave  off  if  you  will  tell  me  but  a  few  Things 
more  ;  Is  the  Heaven  heavy  or  light  ? 

Al.  I  can't  tell  whether  it  be  light  or  no,  but  I  'm  sure 
it  can't  be  heavy,  it  being  of  the  Nature  of  Fire. 

Cu.  What  then  does  the  old  Proverb  mean,  '  What  if 
the  Sky  should  fall?' 

Al.  Because  the  ignorant  Antients,  following  Homer, 
believ'd  the  Heaven  to  be  made  of  Iron  ;3  but  Homer 
call'd  it  Iron  from  the  Similitude  of  Colour,  not  of 
Weight ;  as  we  call  that  Ashy  that  is  of  the  Colour 
of  Ashes. 

Cu.  Is  there  any  Colour  in  the  Sky? 

Al.  There  is  not  really  any  Colour  in  it ;  but  it 
appears  so  to  us,  because  of  the  Air  and  Water  that  is 
betwixt  us  and  it ;  as  the  Sun  sometimes  appears  to  us 
to  be  red,  sometimes  yellow,  sometimes  white,  when  of 
itself  it  admits  of  no  such  Mutations  :  In  like  Manner 

VOL.  III.  Q 


242  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

the  Colours  of  the  Rainbow  are  not  in  the  Sky,  but  in 
the  moist  Air. 

Cu.  But  to  make  an  End ;  you  confess  there  is 
nothing  higher  than  the  Heaven,  which  Way  soever  it 
covers  the  Orb  of  the  Earth. 

Al.  I  do  confess  so. 

Cu.  And  nothing  deeper  than  the  Center  of  the  Earth  ? 

AL  No. 

Cu.  Of  all  Things  in  the  World,  what  is  the  heaviest  ? 

Al.  Gold,  in  my  Opinion. 

Cu.  I  differ  very  much  from  you  in  this  Point. 

Al.  Why,  do  you  know  of  any  Thing  that  is  heavier 
than  Gold  ? 

Cu.  Yes,  I  do,  and  by  many  Degrees  too. 

Al.  Then  now  do  you  take  your  Turn,  and  teach  me  ; 
for  I  profess,  I  don't  know  any  Thing  that  is. 

Cu.  Must  not  that  needs  be  the  heaviest  Thing  in  the 
World,  that  forc'd  down  the  fiery  Spirits  from  the  very 
Vortex  of  Heaven  to  the  Bottom  of  Hell  ?  and  that,  you 
know,  is  plac'd  in  the  Center  of  the  Earth. 

Al.  I  confess  it ;  but  what  is  that  ? 

Cu.  Sin,  which  plunges  the  Souls  of  Men,  that  Virgil 
calls  Sparks  of  pure  yEther,4  to  the  same  Place. 

Al.  If  you  have  a  Mind  to  pass  to  that  Sort  of 
Philosophy,  I  confess  both  Gold  and  Lead  to  be  as 
light  as  Feathers  compared  to  it. 

Cu.  How  then  can  they  that  are  laden  with  this  Sort 
of  Luggage  mount  up  to  Heaven  ? 

Al.  In  Truth  I  can't  tell. 

Cu.  They  that  prepare  themselves  for  running  or 
leaping,  do  not  only  lay  aside  all  heavy  Things,  but 
make  themselves  light  by  holding  in  their  Breath  ;  when 
as  to  the  Race  and  Leap  that  we  take  to  Heaven,  we 
don't  endeavour  to  throw  aside  that  which  is  heavier 
than  Stone  or  Lead. 

Al.  Ay,  but  we  should  do  it  if  we  had  but  one.  Grain 
of  sound  Judgment. 


THE  EPICUREAN1 


THE   ARGUMENT 

The  Epicurean,  a  divine  Colloquy,  reasons  learnedly  and 
piously  concerning  the  true  Good,  a  pure  Conscience, 
temporary  and  eternal  Life.  That  there  is  Felicity  where 
is  true  Pleasure,  and  the  least  Sorrow.  That  Christians 
truly  pious  are  true  Epicureans,  in  that  they  have  a  clear 
Conscience,  and  Peace  with  God  ;  and  that,  altho'  they 
may  be  thought  by  the  World  to  mourn,  yet  they  do  really 
live  pleasantly.  That  the  chiefest  Pleasures  proceed  from 
the  Mind.  He  that  has  God,  what  can  he  desire  more? 
Concerning  a  Priest  who  entertain'd  his  Guests  with 
imaginary  Dainties.  Lust,  Whoring,  and  Drunkenness 
have  more  Pain  than  Pleasure  in  them.  Tantalus's 
foolish  Desire.  Sin  is  the  Tantalean  Stone.  The  great 
Mercy  of  God  towards  repenting  Sinners 

HEDONIUS  and  SPUDMUS 

He.  What  is  my  Spudaeus  hunting  after,  he  is  so  intent 
upon  his  Book,  muttering  I  know  not  what  to  himself? 

Sp.  Hedonius,  I  was  indeed  hunting,  but  that  was  all, 
for  I  can  catch  nothing. 

He.  What  Book  is  that  in  your  Bosom  ? 

Sp.  Tully's  Dialogues  of  the  Ends  of  good  Things. 

He.  But  is  it  not  better  to  enquire  after  the  Beginning 
of  them,  than  the  End  ? 

Sp.  Mark  Tully  calls  a  perfect  Good  the  End  of  Good, 
such  as  whosoever  obtains  can  desire  nothing  more. 

He.  It  is  indeed  a  very  eloquent  and  learned  Piece  ; 
but  have  you  done  any  Thing  to  the  Purpose,  as  to  the 
Attainment  of  the  Knowledge  of  the  Truth  ? 

Sp.    Indeed  I  seem  to  have  gotten  this  Good  by  it 


244  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

that  I  am  more  in  Uncertainty,  as  to  the  Ends  of  Good, 
than  I  was  before. 

He.  It  is  commonly  the  Case  of  Farmers  to  be  at 
Uncertainty,  as  to  the  Ends  of  Lands.1 

Sp.  I  admire  very  much  that  there  is  so  great  a 
Disagreement  in  the  Opinions  of  so  many  great  Men, 
concerning  so  great  a  Matter. 

He.  No  Wonder  at  all,  for  Error  is  very  fertile,  but 
Truth  simple  :  and  they  being  ignorant  of  the  Head  and 
Fountain  of  the  whole  Affair,  they  all  make  absurd  and 
doating  Guesses.  But  which  Opinion  do  you  think 
comes  nearest  to  the  Truth  ? 

Sp.  When  I  meet  with  M.  Tully  opposing  them,  I  like 
none  of  them.  Again,  when  I  find  him  defending  them, 
I  have  not  a  Word  to  say  against  it.  But  to  me  the 
Stoicks  seem  to  be  the  least  out  of  the  Way,  and  next 
to  them  the  Peripateticks. 

He.  I  like  no  Sect  so  well  as  the  Epicureans. 

Sp.  There  is  no  Sect  amongst  them  all  that  is  so 
much  condemn'd  by  a  universal  Consent. 

He.  Let  us  set  Prejudice  aside,  and  let  Epicurus  be 
what  he  will,  let  us  consider  the  Thing  in  itself.  He 
places  the  Happiness  of  Man  in  Pleasure,  and  judges 
that  Life  to  be  most  blessed,  that  has  most  Pleasure, 
and  least  Pain. 

Sp.  He  does  so. 

He.  What  can  be  more  divine  than  this  Sentence  ? 

Sp.  Every  Body  cries  out,  this  is  the  Saying  of  a 
Brute,  rather  than  of  a  Man. 

He.  I  know  they  do  ;  but  they  are  mistaken  in  the 
Names  of  Things.  If  we  will  speak  the  Truth,  none  are 
greater  Epicureans  than  those  Christians  that  live  a 
pious  Life.3 

Sp.  They  come  nearer  to  it  than  the  Cynicks ;  for 
they  make  their  Bodies  lean  with  fasting,  bewail  their 
own  Weaknesses  ;  either  are  poor,  or  else  make 
themselves  so  by  their  Liberality  to  the  Poor ;  are 


The  Epicurean  245 

oppressed  by  the  Powerful,  and  derided  by  the  Populace. 
And  if  Pleasure  be  that  which  makes  happy,  I  think  this 
Kind  of  Life  is  as  distant  from  Pleasure,  as  can  well  be. 

He.  Will  you  admit  of  Plautus  for  an  Author  ? 

Sp.  Yes,  if  he  says  that  which  is  right. 

He.  Then  I  '11  present  you  with  one  Sentence  of  a 
naughty  Servant,  that  has  more  Wisdom  in  it,  than  all 
the  Paradoxes  of  the  Stoicks.4 

Sp.  Let  me  hear  it. 

He.  Nihil  est  miserius  quam  animus  sibi  malt  conscius  : 
Nothing  can  be  more  wretched  than  a  guilty  Conscience. 

Sp.  I  approve  the  Saying ;  but  what  do  you  infer 
from  it  ? 

He.  If  nothing  be  more  wretched  than  a  guilty 
Conscience,  it  follows  of  Consequence,  that  nothing  is 
more  happy  than  a  clear  Conscience. 

Sp.  A  very  good  Inference  ;  but  in  what  Part  of  the 
World  will  you  find  a  Conscience  that  is  clear  from  all 
that  is  evil  ? 

He.  I  call  that  evil,  that  breaks  the  Friendship  between 
God  and  Man. 

Sp.  But  I  believe  there  are  very  few  that  are  clear  of 
Evil  of  this  Kind. 

He.  And  I  take  those  that  are  cleansed  to  be  pure  ; 
such  as  by  the  Lather  of  Tears,  and  Soap  of  Repentance, 
and  Fire  of  Charity  have  washed  away  their  Pollutions. 
The  Sins  of  such  Persons  are  not  only  not  hurtful  to 
them,  but  oftentimes  turn  to  a  greater  Good. 

Sp.  I  know  what  Soap  and  Suds  is  ;  but  I  never  heard 
that  Pollutions  were  purged  away  by  Fire. 

He.  But  if  you  go  to  the  Refiners  Shop,  you'll  see 
Gold  purged  by  Fire  ;  and  there  is  a  certain  Sort  of 
Flax,  which  being  put  into  the  Fire,  is  not  burnt,  but 
shines  brighter,6  and  is  as  clear  as  Water  ;  and  therefore 
is  called  living  Flax. 

Sp.  In  Truth,  thou  bringest  us  a  Paradox,  that  is  more 
paradoxical  than  all  the  Paradoxes  or  the  Stoicks.  Don't 


246  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

they  live  a  pleasant  Life,  of  whom  Christ  has  said, 
'  Blessed  are  they  that  mourn  ? ' 

He.  They  seem  to  mourn  to  Men  of  the  World,  but  in 
Reality  they  live  deliciously,  and,  as  the  old  Saying  is, 
'being  anointed  with  Honey,  live  sweetly';  so  that, 
compared  to  them,  Sardanapalus,  Philoxenus,  Apicius, 
or  the  most  noted  Voluptuary,  lived  but  a  miserable  Life. 

Sp.  What  you  say  is  new,  but  it  is  scarce  credible. 

He.  Do  but  once  make  a  Trial,  and  you'll  say  over 
and  over,  that  what  I  say  is  true.  I  don't  question  but 
I  can  make  you  sensible  that  it  is  not  incredible. 

Sp.  Go  about  it  then. 

He.  I  will,  if  you'll  grant  me  something  by  Way  of 
Preliminary. 

Sp.  I  will,  if  what  you  require  be  just. 

He.  If  you  grant  'em  me,  I  '11  return  them  with  Interest. 
I  suppose  you  will  allow  that  there  is  a  Difference 
between  the  Soul  and  Body  ? 

Sp.  There  is  so,  and  as  much  as  between  Heaven  and 
Earth,  immortal  and  mortal. 

He.  And  again,  that  false  Goods  are  not  to  be  taken 
for  true  Goods  ? 

Sp.  No  more  than  Shadows  are  to  be  taken  for  the 
Bodies  themselves,  or  the  Delusions  of  Magicians,  or 
the  Fancies  of  Dreams,  are  to  be  accounted  for 
Truth. 

He.  So  far  you  have  answer'd  me  well ;  I  suppose 
you  '11  likewise  grant  me  this,  that  there  can  be  no  real 
Pleasure,  but  in  a  sound  Mind. 

Sp.  Why  not  ?  a  Person  can't  take  Pleasure  in  the 
Sun,  if  his  Eyes  are  sore  ;  or  relish  Wine  in  a  Fever. 

He.  Nor  can  I  think  Epicurus  himself  would  embrace 
a  Pleasure  that  has  more  Pain  in  it,  and  of  longer 
Continuance  than  the  Pleasure  itself. 

Sp.  In  my  Opinion,  neither  he,  nor  any  Body  else 
that  has  any  Sense,  would. 

He.    I  '11    presume   you  '11  grant   me   this,  that  God 


The  Epicurean  247 

himself  is  the  chiefest  Good,  than  which  nothing  is  more 
glorious,  more  lovely,  and  more  pleasant. 

Sp.  No  Body  would  deny  that,  but  one  that  is  more 
brutish  than  a  Cyclops  :  But  what  then  ? 

He.  Well  then,  now  you  have  granted  me,  that  no 
Body  lives  more  pleasantly  than  they  that  live  piously  ; 
and  no  Body  more  miserably,  and  afflictedly,  than  they 
that  live  wickedly. 

Sp.  Then  I  granted  you  more  than  I  was  aware  of. 

He.  But  as  Plato  says,  that  which  has  been  fairly 
granted,  ought  not  to  be  deny'd. 

Sp.  Well,  go  on. 

He.  A  little  Puppy  that  is  kept  for  Pleasure,  is  fed 
daintily,  lies  softly,  plays  and  wantons  continually  ;  does 
not  she  live  pleasantly  then  ? 

Sp.  Yes. 

He.  Would  you  wish  for  such  a  Life  then  ? 

Sp.  No,  by  no  Means,  unless  I  should  wish  to  be  a 
Dog. 

He.  Then  you  confess  that  true  Pleasures  proceed 
from  the  Mind,  as  from  a  Fountain  ? 

Sp.  It  is  plain  they  do. 

He.  So  great  is  the  Force  of  the  Mind,  that  it  often 
takes  away  the  Sense  of  outward  Pain,  and  sometimes 
makes  what  of  itself  is  bitter,  to  be  sweet. 

Sp.  We  see  that  daily  in  those  who  are  in  Love,  who 
take  a  Pleasure  in  watching  and  waiting  all  a  cold 
Winter's  Night  at  their  Mistresses  Door. 

He.  Well  then,  consider  with  yourself,  if  human  Love 
have  such  a  Power,  which  Bulls  and  Dogs  have  as  well 
as  we,  how  much  more  prevalent  will  that  heavenly  Love 
be,  that  proceeds  from  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  the  Power  of 
which  is  so  great,  that  it  can  render  Death  amiable,  than 
which  there  is  nothing  in  the  World  more  terrible  ? 

Sp.  I  can't  tell  what  others  feel  within  themselves  ; 
but  I  think  that  they  want  a  great  many  Pleasures  that 
adhere  to  true  Piety. 


248  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

He.  What  Pleasures  do  they  go  without  ? 

Sp.  They  do  not  get  Riches,  attain  Honours,  junket, 
dance,  sing,  perfume  themselves,  laugh  and  play. 

He,  You  should  not  have  mention'd  Riches  and 
Honours  in  this  Case  ;  for  they  don't  make  a  Life 
pleasant,  but  rather  full  of  Cares  and  Anxiety.  Let  us 
consider  the  other  Things  which  are  what  they  hunt 
after,  that  have  a  Desire  to  live  a  pleasant  Life.  Do 
you  not  daily  see  Drunkards,  Fools  and  Madmen 
laughing  and  dancing? 

Sp.  I  do  so. 

He.  Do  you  think  that  they  live  pleasantly? 

Sp.  I  would  wish  that  Pleasure  to  those  I  hate. 

He.  Why  so? 

Sp.  Because  their  Mind  is  out  of  Order. 

He.  Then  had  you  rather  fast  and  study,  than  live 
after  that  Manner? 

Sp.  Nay,  I  had  rather  dig. 

He.  There  is  no  Difference  between  a  rich  Man  and  a 
drunken  Man,  saving  that  Sleep  will  cure  a  drunken 
Man,  but  Doctors  can't  cure  a  covetous  Man.  A  natural 
Fool  differs  from  a  Brute  only  in  the  Form  of  his  Body  ; 
but  they  are  less  miserable  whom  Nature  has  made 
Brutes,  than  they  that  have  made  themselves  so  by  their 
beastly  Lusts. 

Sp.  I  confess  that. 

He.  Do  you  think  that  they  are  sober  or  in  their  right 
Mind,  who  for  the  Sake  of  Delusions,  and  Shadows  of 
Pleasure,  neglect  the  true  Pleasures  of  the  Mind,  and 
bring  upon  themselves  real  Torments  ? 

Sp.  They  do  not  seem  to  be  so. 

He.  Such  Persons  are  not  drunk  with  Wine,  but  with 
Love,  with  Anger,  with  Avarice,  with  Ambition,  and 
other  filthy  Lusts ;  which  is  a  Drunkenness  more 
Dangerous  than  to  be  drunk  with  Wine.  Cyrus,  in  the 
Comedy,  after  he  had  slept  away  his  Debauch,  spoke 
sober  Things 6 ;  but  a  Mind  drunk  with  vicious  Lust, 


The  Epicurean  249 

how  hardly  does  that  come  to  itself?  How  many  Years 
does  Love,  Anger,  Hatred,  Lust,  Luxury  and  Ambition 
torment  the  Mind?  How  many  do  we  see  that  never 
wake  out  of  the  Sleep  of  Drunkenness,  Ambition,  Avarice, 
Lust,  and  Luxury,  and  repent  of  them,  even  from  their 
Youth  to  a  decrepit  old  Age. 

Sp.  I  know  a  great  many  such  as  those. 

He.  You  have  granted  likewise,  that  Persons  should 
not  take  false  Pleasures  for  true  ones. 

Sp.  I  have  so,  and  I  shall  not  eat  my  Words. 

He.  That  is  no  true  Pleasure  that  does  not  spring  from 
true  Causes. 

Sp.  I  own  that. 

He.  Then  they  are  no  true  Pleasures  that  Mankind 
generally  pursue,  right  or  wrong. 

Sp.  I  don't  think  they  are. 

He.  If  they  were  true  Pleasures,  they  would  only 
happen  to  good  Men,  and  render  them  happy  whose 
Share  they  fall  to.  But  as  to  Pleasure,  can  that  be 
thought  to  be  true  that  proceeds  not  from  true  Good, 
but  from  the  false  Shadows  of  Good  ? 

Sp.  By  no  Means. 

He.  But  Pleasure  is  that  which  makes  us  live  sweetly. 

Sp.  It  does  so. 

He.  Well  then,  none  lives  truly  pleasantly,  but  he  that 
lives  piously,  i.e.  that  enjoys  true  Good  :  It  is  only  Piety 
that  gains  the  Favour  of  God,  the  Fountain  of  the 
chiefest  Good,  that  makes  a  Man  happy. 

Sp.  I  am  almost  convinced. 

He.  Now  do  but  mind  how  vastly  wide  they  are  from 
Pleasure,  who,  as  is  commonly  accounted,  follow  nothing 
but  Pleasures.  First  of  all,  their  Minds  are  polluted 
and  vitiated  with  the  Leaven  of  Lusts,  that  if  any  Thing 
that  is  pleasant  happens,  it  presently  grows  bitter :  for 
when  a  Fountain 's  muddy,  the  Stream  will  not  run  clear. 
Again,  that  Pleasure  is  no  true  Pleasure,  that  is  received 
with  a  disorder'd  Mind ;  for  there  is  nothing  more 


252  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

He.  But  now  suppose  the  Pain  and  Pleasure  to  be 
equal,  would  you  be  willing  to  bear  the  Pain  of  the 
Tooth-ach,  as  long  as  the  Pleasure  of  Whoring  or  a 
drunken  Bout  lasted  ? 

Sp.  In  Truth  I  had  rather  go  without  both  ;  for  to 
buy  Pleasure  with  Pain,  is  Penance  without  Gain.  In 
this  Case,  in  my  Opinion,  an  utter  dvaXyrjo-ia,  which 
Cicero  calls  an  Indolency,  is  much  better. 

He.  But  besides  that,  the  Titillation  of  unlawful 
Pleasure,  as  it  is  much  less  than  the  Pain  it  brings,  so  it 
is  of  shorter  Continuance  :  But  when  a  Man  has  once 
got  the  Pox,  he 's  plagued  with  it  all  his  Life-Time,  and 
forced  to  suffer  a  Sort  of  Death  a  great  many  Times 
over  before  his  Time  comes  to  die. 

Sp.  Epicurus  himself  would  not  own  such  Persons  for 
his  Disciples. 

He.  Poverty  is  commonly  the  Attendant  of  Luxury, 
and  that  is  a  miserable  and  heavy  Burden  to  bear ;  and 
a  Palsy,  Weakness  of  the  Nerves,  sore  Eyes,  and  the 
Pox,  the  Consequents  of  immoderate  Venery  :  and  this 
is  not  all  neither  :  Is  it  not  a  notable  Way  of  Merchan 
dising,  to  purchase  a  Pleasure,  neither  real,  solid,  nor  of 
long  Continuance,  with  so  many  Evils,  greater  and 
longer-lasting  ? 

Sp.  If  there  were  nothing  of  Pain  in  the  Matter,  I 
should  think  him  a  foolish  Trader  who  should  barter 
Jewels  for  Bits  of  Glass. 

He.  And  will  you  not  say  the  same  of  them  that  lose 
the  real  Enjoyments  of  the  Mind,  for  the  counterfeit 
Pleasures  of  the  Body  ? 

Sp.  Indeed  I  think  so. 

He.  But  let  us  come  closer  to  the  Matter  :  Suppose 
that  neither  a  Fever  nor  Poverty  should  always  accom 
pany  Luxury ;  nor  a  Pox  nor  Palsy,  Whoring ;  yet  a 
guilty  Conscience,  that  you  allow  to  be  by  far  more 
wretched,  is  the  inseparable  Companion  of  unlawful 
Pleasure. 


The  Epicurean  253 

Sp.  Nay,  sometimes  it  goes  before  it,  and  galls  the 
Mind  in  the  very  Fruition  of  it.  But  there  are  some, 
perhaps,  you'll  say,  that  have  no  Feeling  in  their 
Conscience. 

He.  Such  are  the  more  miserable  ;  for  who  would  not 
rather  feel  his  Pain,  than  have  his  Body  so  stupify'd,  as 
to  have  no  Sense  of  Feeling?  But  as  some  Persons  in 
their  Youth,  by  the  Exorbitancy  of  their  Lusts,  are  as  it 
were  drunk,  and  habituated  to  them,  and,  like  a  Callous, 
grown  insensible  of  their  Calamity8;  yet  when  they 
come  to  old  Age,  besides  the  innumerable  Evils  they 
have  treasured  up  in  the  Time  of  their  past  Life,  Death, 
the  inevitable  Fate  of  Mankind,  stares  'em  in  the  Face 
with  a  terrible  Aspect ;  and  then  the  Conscience  is  so 
much  the  more  tormenting,  by  how  much  the  more 
stupify'd  it  has  been  all  their  Life  before.  Then  the 
Soul  is  awaken'd,  whether  it  will  or  no ;  old  Age,  which 
of  itself  is  a  melancholy  Thing,  as  being  obnoxious  to 
many  Incommodities  of  Nature;  how  much  more 
miserable  and  wretched  is  it,  if  a  guilty  Conscience  adds 
to  its  Infelicity  ?  Entertainments,  Club-Feasts,  Balls, 
Amours,  Concerts  of  Musick,  and  those  Things  that  are 
delightful  to  them  when  young,  will  be  burdensome  to 
them  when  old.  Old  Age  has  nothing  to  support  itself 
with,  but  the  Remembrance  of  a  Life  innocently  pass'd, 
and  the  Hope  of  a  better  to  come  :  These  are  the  two 
Crutches  upon  which  old  Age  is  borne  up  ;  therefore  if 
you  take  these  away,  and  in  the  Stead  of  them  put  a 
double  Burden  upon  their  Shoulders,  the  Remembrance 
of  a  Life  ill  spent,  and  Despair  of  Happiness  to  come, 
pray  what  living  Creature  can  be  imagin'd  more  afflicted 
and  more  miserable  ? 

Sp.  Indeed  I  cannot  see  what,  unless  it  be  the  old 
Age  of  a  Horse. 

He.  Then  indeed  is  the  '  Stable-Door  shut  when  the 
Steed  is  stolen'10;  and  the  old  Saying  is  a  true  one, 
'The  End  of  Mirth  is  Heaviness,'  and  'There  is  no 


2  56  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

ness,  old  Age,  Death,  Thunder,  Earthquakes,  Inun 
dations,  and  Wars  ? 

Sp.  These  among  the  rest. 

He.  But  now  we  are  talking  of  immortal  ones.  And 
yet  also,  in  these  Calamities  the  Condition  of  the 
godly  is  much  more  tolerable  than  that  of  those  who 
hunt  after  bodily  Pleasures,  right  or  wrong. 

Sp.  How  so  ? 

He.  Because  their  Minds  are  inur'd  to  Temperance 
and  Bearance,  and  therefore  undergo  those  Things 
which  are  inevitable  more  moderately  than  other 
Persons.  And  lastly,  in  that  they  understand  that 
all  those  Things  are  sent  by  God,  either  for  the 
Purgation  of  the  Faults,  or  the  Exercise  of  their  Virtue  : 
and  therefore  they  take  them  not  only  patiently,  but 
also  willingly,  as  obedient  Children  from  the  Hand 
of  a  kind  Father ;  and  are  thankful  either  for  his 
favourable  Correction,  or  for  the  great  Advantage 
got  by  them. 

Sp.  But  there  are  a  great  many  Persons  who  bring 
bodily  Afflictions  upon  themselves. 

He.  But  more  make  Use  of  physical  Medicines, 
either  to  preserve  the  Health  of  the  Body,  or  to  recover 
it :  but  to  bring  Troubles  upon  themselves,  viz.  Want, 
Sickness,  Persecution,  or  Reproach,  unless  Christian 
Charity  oblige  to  it,  is  not  Piety,  but  Folly.  But  as 
often  as  they  are  inflicted  for  the  Sake  of  Christ  or 
Righteousness,  who  is  he  that  dares  to  call  them 
miserable,  when  the  Lord  himself  calls  them  blessed, 
and  bids  them  rejoice  on  Account  of  them? 

Sp.  But  for  all  that,  they  carry  something  of  Torment 
in  them. 

He.  They  do  so,  but  'tis  such  a  one,  that  the 
Fear  of  Hell  on  the  one  Side,  and  the  Hope  of  Heaven 
on  the  other,  easily  overcomes.  But  prithee  tell  me 
if  you  did  firmly  believe  that  you  should  never  feel 
any  Sickness  or  bodily  Pain  all  your  Life  long,  if 


The  Epicurean  257 

you  would  but  once  suffer  your  Skin  to  be  prick'd 
with 'a  Pin,  would  you  not  willingly  and  gladly  suffer 
that  little  Pain  ? 

Sp.  If  I  were  but  sure  I  should  never  feel  the 
Tooth-ach  all  my  Life,  I  would  suffer  my  Skin  to 
be  prick'd  deeper,  and  both  my  Ears  to  be  bor'd 
thro'  with  an  Awl. 

He.  But  whatsoever  Affliction  happens  in  this  Life, 
is  more  light  and  short  in  Comparison  to  eternal 
Torments,  than  the  momentary  Prick  of  a  Needle 
to  the  Life  of  Man,  the  longest  that  ever  any  Man 
liv'd  ;  for  there  is  no  Comparison  between  that  which 
is  finite,  and  that  which  is  infinite. 

Sp.  You  say  very  well. 

He.  Now  suppose,  if  you  could  be  persuaded  that 
you  should  live  without  Trouble  all  your  Life  long, 
if  you  did  but  divide  the  Flame  with  your  Hand 
(which  Pythagoras  forbad  to  be  done),  would  you  not 
readily  do  it? 

Sp.  Yes,  I  would  do  it  an  hundred  Times,  if  he 
that  promis'd  me  would  be  as  good  as  his  Word. 

He.  God  cannot  be  worse  than  his  Word ;  but 
that  Sense  of  the  Flame  is  of  longer  Continuance, 
if  compar'd  to  the  Life  of  Man,  than  all  his  Life  is, 
compar'd  to  the  Happiness  of  Heaven,  tho'  the  Life 
of  that  Man  should  be  three  Times  as  long  as  that 
of  Nestor.  For  that  putting  the  Hand  into  the  Flame 
is  some  Part  of  the  Life  of  Man,  let  it  be  never  no  small 
a  one ;  but  the  whole  Life  of  a  Man  is  no  Part  of 
Eternity. 

Sp.  I  have  nothing  to  say  against  it. 

He.  Besides,  they  that  hasten  forwards  with  all  their 
Heart  and  a  certain  Hope,  when  the  Way  is  so  short ; 
do  you  believe  they  are  tormented  with  the  Troubles 
of  this  Life  ? 

Sp.  I  don't  think  they  are,  if  they  have  a  certain 
Belief  and  firm  Hope  of  attaining  to  it. 

VOL.  III.  R 


258  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

He.  I  come  now  to  those  Delights  you  took  Notice 
of :  They  abstain  from  Balls,  Banquets,  and  Plays  ; 
they  so  despise  them,  that  they  enjoy  those  that  are 
much  pleasanter.  They  don't  take  less  Pleasure,  but 
they  take  it  after  another  Manner.  '  The  Eye  has  not 
seen,  nor  the  Ear  heard,  nor  has  it  enter'd  into  the 
Heart  of  Man,  to  conceive  what  Comforts  God  has 
prepar'd  for  those  that  love  him.'  Blessed  Paul  was 
acquainted  with  the  Songs,  Dances,  Exultations,  and 
Banquets  of  pious  Minds  in  this  Life. 

Sp.  But  there  are  some  lawful  Pleasures  which  they 
abridge  themselves  of. 

He.  The  immoderate  Use  of  such  Pleasures,  as  are 
in  themselves  lawful,  is  unlawful ;  if  you  except  that, 
they  who  seem  to  live  this  austere  Life,  exceed  others 
in  Enjoyment.  What  can  be  a  more  noble  Spectacle 
than  the  Contemplation  of  this  World  ?  Men  that  are  in 
God's  Favour,  take  far  more  Pleasure  in  that  Contem 
plation,  than  other  Men  ;  for  while  they,  out  of  Curiosity 
contemplate  this  wonderful  Fabrick,  they  are  perplex'd 
in  their  Minds,  because  they  cannot  attain  to  the 
Knowledge  of  the  Causes  of  many  Things.  And  in 
some  Cases,  like  Momus's,  some  murmur  against  the 
Workman,12  often  calling  Nature,  which  is  indeed  a 
Mother,  a  Step-Mother;  which  Reflection,  tho'  in 
Word  it  be  levell'd  against  Nature,  yet  rebounds  on 
him  that  is  the  Author  of  Nature,  if  indeed  there  is  any 
such  Thing  as  Nature.  But  a  godly  Man,  with  re 
ligious  and  pure  Eyes,  beholds  the  Works  of  God,  his 
Father,  with  great  Pleasure  of  Mind,  admiring  every 
Thing,  finding  Fault  with  nothing  ;  but  giving  Thanks 
for  all  Things,  when  he  considers  that  all  these  Things 
were  made  for  Man  :  and  so  in  every  Thing  adores  the 
Omnipotence,  Wisdom,  and  Goodness  of  the  Creator, 
the  Footsteps  of  which  he  perceives  in  the  Things 
created.  Imagine  for  once  that  there  were  really  such 
a  Palace  as  Apuleius  feign'd  for  Psyche,  or  something 


The  Epicurean  259 

more  magnificent  and  fine,  if  it  can  be  :  And  suppose 
two  Spectators,  one  a  Stranger,  who  only  came  to  see 
it,  the  other  a  Servant,  or  a  Son  of  him  that  built  it ; 
which  of  them  will  take  the  greatest  Pleasure  in  the 
Sight  ?  the  Stranger  who  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
House,  or  the  Son  who  beholds  the  Genius,  Wealth,  and 
Magnificence  of  a  dear  Father,  in  that  Building,  with 
great  Pleasure,  especially  when  he  reflects,  that  all  this 
Fabrick  was  made  for  his  own  Sake  ? 

Sp.  Your  Question  needs  no  Answer  ;  but  the  greatest 
Part,  that  are  not  religious,  know  not  that  Heaven,  and 
what  is  contain'd  therein,  was  made  for  the  Sake  of 
Man. 

He.  They  all  know  it,  but  they  do  not  all  consider  it ; 
and  if  it  does  come  into  their  Mind,  yet  he  takes  the 
most  Pleasure  that  loves  the  Workman  best,  as  he 
looks  most  chearfully  upon  Heaven,  that  breathes  after 
eternal  Life. 

Sp.  There  seems  to  be  a  great  Deal  of  Truth  in  what 
you  say. 

He.  Now  as  to  Banquets,  the  Sweetness  of  them  does 
not  consist  so  much  in  the  having  a  dainty  Palate,  or  in 
the  seasonings  of  the  Cook,  as  the  good  State  of  the 
Health  of  the  Body,  and  the  Goodness  of  the  Appetite. 
Therefore  don't  think  that  any  Lucullus  sups  more 
pleasantly  upon  his  Partridges,  Pheasants,  Turtle-Doves, 
Hares,  Giltheads,  Sturgeons,  or  Lampreys,  than  a  godly 
Man  does  upon  brown  Bread,  a  Sallad,  or  Pulse,  and 
Water,  or  Small-Beer,  or  a  little  Wine  mixed  with  a 
great  Deal  of  Water,  because  he  receives  them  as  sent 
from  a  kind  Father.  Prayer  seasons  them  all,  and  the 
preceding  Thanksgiving  sanctifies,  and  being  accom 
panied  with  the  reading  of  the  Word  of  God,  refreshes 
the  Mind  more  than  Meat  does  the  Body.  And  having 
return'd  Thanks,  at  last  he  rises  from  the  Table,  not 
stuffed,  but  recreated ;  not  loaded,  but  refreshed  in 
Mind,  as  well  as  Body.  Do  you  think  the  Contriver  of 


260  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

any  of  those  vulgar  Delicacies  can  fare  more  deli- 
ciously  ? 

Sp.  But  the  highest  Pleasure  is  in  Venery,  if  we  give 
Credit  to  Aristotle. 

He.  Well,  in  this  Particular  too,  the  Advantage  is  on 
the  pious  Man's  Side,  as  well  as  in  Feasting  ;  consider 
it  thus.  By  how  much  the  more  ardent  his  Love  is 
toward  his  Wife,  by  so  much  the  more  pleasurable  are 
his  conjugal  Embraces.  And  none  love  their  Wives 
better,  than  those  that  love  them  as  '  Christ  loved  his 
Church '  ;  for  they  that  love  them  for  the  Sake  of 
Concupiscence,  do  not  love  them  in  Reality.  But 
besides,  the  seldomer  is  the  Enjoyment,  the  pleasanter 
it  is  :  The  profane  Poet  was  not  ignorant  of  this,  who 
said  Voluptates  commendat  rarior  usus.  Although, 
indeed,  that  is  the  least  Part  of  the  Pleasure  that  consists 
in  Coition,  the  far  greater  Part  of  the  Pleasure  is  in  their 
cohabiting  and  dieting  together,  which  cannot  be  more 
pleasant  between  any  Persons,  than  between  those  who 
sincerely  love  one  another  with  a  Christian  Love.  In 
other  Persons  commonly  Pleasure  growing  old,  so  does 
Love  too  ;  but  Christian  Love  grows  the  more  flourish 
ing,  by  how  much  carnal  Love  decreases.  Well,  have  I 
not  convinced  you  yet,  that  no  Body  lives  more  pleasantly 
than  those  that  live  piously  ? 

Sp.  I  wish  you  had  so  much  convinced  all  Persons  as 
you  have  me. 

He.  Well  then,  if  they  are  Epicureans  that  live 
pleasantly,  none  are  more  truly  Epicureans,  than  those 
that  live  holily  and  religiously.  And  if  we  are  taken 
with  Names,  no  Body  more  deserves  the  Name  of  an 
Epicurean,  than  that  adorable  Prince  of  Christian 
Philosophers  ; 13  for  eV/Kovpos  in  Greek  signifies  as  much 
as  an  Helper.  Therefore  when  the  Law  of  Nature  was 
almost  erased  by  Vice  ;  and  the  Law  of  Moses  rather 
incited  than  cured  Lusts,  when  the  Tyrant  Satan  ruled 
without  Controul  in  the  World,  he  alone  afforded 


The  Epicurean  261 

present  Help  to  perishing  Mankind.  So  that  they  are 
mightily  mistaken  that  foolishly  represent  Christ,  as  by 
Nature,  to  be  a  rigid  melancholick  Person,  and  that  he 
invited  us  to  an  unpleasant  Life  ;  when  he  alone  show'd 
the  Way  to  the  most  comfortable  Life  in  the  World, 
and  fullest  of  Pleasure,  and  so  vastly  distant  from  that 
Tantalean  Stone. 

Sp.  What  is  the  Meaning  of  that  Riddle? 

He.  You'll  laugh  at  the  Romance;  but  this  Jest  will 
lead  us  on  to  something  serious. 

Sp.  Well  then,  I  expect  to  hear  a  serious  Jest. 

He.  Those  who  formerly  made  it  their  Business  to 
wrap  up  Precepts  of  Philosophy  in  the  Folds  of  Fables, 
tell  us,  that  one  Tantalus  was  once  admitted  to  the 
Table  of  the  Deities,  which  they  tell  you  is  wonderfully 
stored  with  Delicacies  :  When  Jupiter  was  about  to 
dismiss  his  Guests,  he  thought  it  agreeable  to  his 
Generosity,  to  let  none  of  them  go  away  without  some 
Boon ;  therefore  he  bid  Tantalus  ask  what  he  pleased, 
and  it  should  be  granted :  And  Tantalus  being  so 
foolish  as  to  measure  Man's  Happiness  by  the  Pleasures 
of  Gluttony,  wish'd  that  he  might  all  his  Life-Time  sit 
at  a  Table  so  plentifully  furnished.  Jupiter  consented, 
and  granted  him  what  he  desir'd  :  Tantalus  sits  at  a 
Table  furnished  with  all  Sorts  of  Dainties ;  Nectar  is 
set  before  him  ;  neither  Roses  nor  Odours  are  wanting, 
such  as  may  delight  the  Noses  of  the  Gods  themselves  ; 
Ganymede  stands  by  him  to  be  his  Cup-Bearer,  or  some 
Body  like  him  :  The  Muses  stand  about  him  singing 
sweetly  ;  Silenus  dances  before  him  with  ridiculous 
Gestures  ;  and  likewise  there  are  good  Store  of  Jesters  ; 
and  in  short,  there  is  whatsoever  may  delight  the  Senses 
of  a  Man  :  but  in  the  Midst  of  all  these  he  sits  melan 
choly,  sighing  and  anxious,  neither  being  moved  by 
their  Merriment,  nor  touching  the  Provision  before  him. 

Sp.  What  is  the  Reason  of  that  ? 

He.  Because  a  great  Stone  hangs  over  his  Head,  as 


262  Colloquies  of  Erasvms 

he  sits  at  Supper,  ready  to  fall  upon  him  every 
Moment. 

Sp.  I  'd  get  away  from  such  a  Table. 

He.  But  what  he  wished  for  is  made  necessary  to 
him.  Nor  is  Jupiter  so  placable  as  our  God  is,  who 
rescinds  the  hurtful  Wishes  of  Mortals,  if  they  repent 
of  them.  But  the  same  Stone  that  hinders  Tantalus 
from  feeding,  frightens  him  from  going  away  ;  for  he  is 
afraid  if  he  offer  to  stir  lest  the  Stone  should  fall  upon 
him,  and  crush  him  to  Pieces.14 

Sp.  A  ridiculous  Story  ! 

He.  But  now  hear  what  you  won't  laugh  at :  The 
common  People  seek  for  a  pleasant  Life  from  external 
Things,  when  nothing  will  produce  that,  but  a  good 
Conscience  ;  for  a  heavier  Stone  hangs  over  the  Heads 
of  those  that  have  a  guilty  Conscience,  than  hangs  over 
the  Head  of  Tantalus  himself;  nay,  it  does  not  only 
hang  over  their  Heads,  but  vexes  and  presses  their 
Minds  ;  nor  is  their  Mind  tormented  with  a  vain  Fear, 
but  expects  every  Hour,  when  they  shall  be  cast  into 
Hell.  Pray,  what  can  there  be  so  pleasant  in  earthly 
Things,  that  can  possibly  chear  a  Mind  that  is  prest 
down  with  such  a  Stone  ? 

Sp.  Nay,  nothing  in  the  World  but  Madness  or 
Incredulity. 

He.  If  Youth  did  but  consider  this,  who  being 
bewitched  with  Pleasures  like  the  Cup  of  Circe,  embrace 
sweetned  Poisons,  instead  of  Things  truly  pleasant,  how 
carefully  would  they  beware  lest  by  Incogitancy  they 
should  do  that  which  would  perplex  their  Mind  all  their 
Life-Time  ?  What  would  they  not  do  that  they  might 
provide  this  Viaticum  against  old  Age,  which  is  drawing 
on  ;  a  good  Conscience,  and  an  untainted  Reputation  ? 
What  can  be  more  miserable  than  that  old  Age,  which, 
when  it  looks  back,  sees  with  great  Horror  what  beauti 
ful  Things  it  has  neglected,  and  what  foul  Things  it  has 
embraced  :  And  again,  when  it  looks  forward,  sees  the 


The  Epicurean  263 

last  Day  hanging  over  its  Head,  and  immediately  upon 
this  the  Torments  of  Hell  ? 

Sp.  I  think  they  are  the  happiest  Men,  who  have 
preserved  the  first  Part  of  their  Age  undefiled,  and 
improving  in  the  Study  of  Piety,  have  arrived  to  the 
Goal  of  old  Age. 

He.  And  the  next  Place  is  due  to  those  who  have 
early  repented  of  their  Juvenile  Follies. 

Sp.  But  what  Advice  will  you  give  to  that  wretched 
old  Man  ? 

He.  While  there  is  Life  there  is  Hope  :  I  would  bid 
him  fly  to  the  Arms  of  Mercy. 

Sp.  But  by  how  much  the  longer  a  Man  has  continued 
in  an  evil  Course  of  Life,  by  so  much  a  greater  Mass  of 
Iniquities  is  heaped  up,  that  exceeds  even  the  Sands  on 
the  Sea-Shore. 

He.  But  then  the  Mercies  of  God  exceed  them  ;  tho' 
Man  cannot  number  the  Sand,  yet  the  Number  of  them 
is  finite ;  but  the  Mercy  of  God  knows  neither  Bound 
nor  End. 

Sp.  But  there  is  but  little  Time  to  one  that  is  at  the 
Point  of  Death. 

He.  The  less  Time  he  has,  the  more  Ardently  he 
ought  to  call  upon  God.  That  Time  is  long  enough  with 
God,  that  can  reach  from  Earth  to  Heaven  ;  and  a  short 
Prayer  can  penetrate  Heaven,  if  it  be  but  sent  with  a 
strong  Force  of  Spirit.  Mary  Magdalen  is  recorded  to 
have  spent  her  whole  Life  in  Repentance  ;  but  the  Thief 
got  a  Grant  of  Paradise  from  our  Saviour,  even  at  the 
Point  of  Death.  If  he  shall  but  cry  with  his  whole 
Heart,  '  My  God  have  Mercy  on  me,  according  to  the 
Multitude  of  thy  Mercies';  the  Lord  will  remove  that 
Tantalean  Stone,  and  make  him  hear  that  Sound  of  Joy 
and  Gladness  ;  the  '  Bones  broken  by  Contrition '  shall 
rejoice  for  the  Pardon  of  Sins. 


THE  CONFLICT  BETWEEN  THALIA 
AND  BARBARISM 

Erasmus  wrote  this  Colloquy  when  he  was  a  very  young 
Scholar  at  Deventer ;  and  being  so  far  inferior  to  the 
Performance  of  his  riper  Years,  he  would  not  permit  it  to 
be  printed  with  the  rest,  nor  would  he  scarce  own  it  to 
be  his  :  But  it  shows  the  Taste  he  had  of  the  purer 
Latinity,  inveighing  satirically  against  the  barbarous 
Latin,  that  was  in  those  Days  commonly  allow'd  and 
approv'd,  particularly  in  a  great  School,  or  College  at 
Zwoll,  a  Town  twelve  Miles  from  Deventer,  where  instead 
of  pure  Latin  Authors,  the  Scholars  were  put  to  learn 
Books  stuffd  with  Inelegancies  and  Barbarisms 

THALIA  and  her  Companions,  CALLIOPEandMELPOMENE; 
BARBARISM  and  her  Companions 

Tha.  O  Good  God  !  what  Sort  of  Monster  is  that 
which  I  see  rising  out  of  the  Ground  yonder?  I  beseech 
you  look  upon  it. 

Cal.  O  admirable  !  what  a  vast  Body  it  has,  the  Top 
of  its  Head  reaches  almost  up  to  the  Stars.  In  Truth, 
I  can't  tell  what  it  is. 

Tha.  It's  coming  nearer  to  me.  A  new  Sort  of  a 
Composition,  do  you  see  it?  It  has  a  Face  like  a 
Virgin  ;  from  the  Breast  downwards  it  is  like  an  Ass. 

Cal.  It  is  so,  as  I  hope  to  be  sav'd.  But,  Madam,  do 
you  observe  what  monstrous  Horns  grow  out  of  the 
Forehead  of  it  ? 

Tha.  They  are  huge  ones  indeed.  But  do  you  take 
Notice  what  Ears  there  are  by  the  Horns  ? 

Cal.  I  do  mind  them,  they  are  like  Asses  Ears,  and 


The  Conflict  between  Thalia  and  Barbarism    265 

they  are  whitish,  and  full  of  Motion ;  and  I  perceive  it 
approaches  nearer  and  nearer,  but  I  can't  tell  what  is  in 
the  Mind  of  it  to  do.  Alas  !  I  am  in  Pain,  lest  it  has 
some  Mischief  in  its  Head. 

Tha.  May  God  our  Father  prevent  it  ! 

Mel.  If  my  Memory  don't  fail  me,  I  have  some 
Knowledge  of  this  Monster. 

Tha.  Prithee  tell  us  what  it  is. 

Mel.  There  is  no  Danger  in  it. 

Tha.  But  I  am  cruelly  afraid  it  is  an  Enemy  to  us  ;  is 
it,  or  not? 

Mel.  It  is  ;  this  is  our  only  and  most  cruel  Adversary. 

Tha.  God  confound  it  ! 

Mel.  It  never  ceases  envying  and  assaulting  us  :  They 
say  it  has  its  Residence  in  the  Western  Climates,  there 
it  brings  all  Things  under  its  Yoke,  is  worshipp'd,  lov'd 
and  honour'd.  What  Need  is  there  of  a  great  many 
Words?  In  short,  it  expects  to  be  appeas'd  with 
suppliant  Presents  like  a  Goddess. 

Tha.  If  I  mistake  not,  I  have  heard  so.  But  what  :s 
the  Name  of  the  City  where  she  reigns  ? 

Mel.  Why,  'tis  Zwoll,  I  think. 

Tha.  Very  right,  that 's  it. 

Mel.  Her  Name  is  Barbarism. 

Tha.  It  is  she,  in  Truth,  I  know  her  very  well ;  but 
see,  she  is  coming  hither  a  great  Pace ;  let  us  halt  till 
she  comes  up. 

Bar.  Companions,  is  this  Thalia  herself  that  I  see 
hard  by  ?  Why,  I  thought  she  had  been  dead  long 
enough  ago  :  It  is  certainly  she,  I  espy  her  Laurel ;  she 
is  come  to  Life  again,  and  has  the  Impudence  pre 
sumptuously  to  come  into  my  Presence,  without  any 
Fear  of  me  :  I  '11  advance  up  to  her,  and  make  her  know 
who  I  am.  A  Mischief  take  you,  you  impudent 
Jade  ! 

Tha.  You  salute  me  very  roughly :  Pray,  forsooth, 
take  that  to  yourself  that  you  wish  to  me. 


268  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Tha.  I  own  that. 

Bar.  You  would  not  own  it,  if  you  had  any  Thing 
to  say  against  it. 

Tha.  Yes,  I  have  something  to  say  against  it  :  You 
knew  Cacus  ? 

Bar.  Who  does  not  know  Cacus  ? 

Tha.  That  Cacus  whom  Virgil  speaks  of.'2 

Bar.   I  knew  him. 

Tha.  I  believe  you  did,  for  he  was  a  famous  Fellow  ; 
and  as  he  was  famous,  just  so  are  you.  And  then  again 
whereas  you  take  it  to  your  Praise,  that  the  World 
follows  you,  I  interpret  it  rather  to  your  Dishonour  ; 
for  every  Thing  that  is  scarce,  is  valuable.  There  is 
nothing  valuable  that  is  common  to  the  Vulgar.  Altho' 
my  Admirers  are  but  few,  yet  they  are  Persons  of  Figure 
and  Gravity.  But  pray  what  great  Reputation  is  it  to 
you.  that  you  are  admir'd  by  the  ignorant  Mobility? 

Bar.  Silly  Wench  !  the  Thing  is  quite  different  ;  for 
I  don't  leave  those  Persons  unlearned,  and  I  find  so  ; 
but  I  rather  improve  them  and  instruct  them,  and  make 
them  Persons  of  Learning  and  Gravity. 

Tha.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  loaded  with  Books,  but  not  with 
Science. 

Bar.  You're  a  poor  Scrub,  and  I  am  as  well  able 
to  make  my  Followers  learned  as  you  are  yours. 

Tha.  Yes,  like  yourself;  for  being  barbarous  yourself, 
you  make  Barbarians  of  them  too  :  What  can  you 
do  else  ? 

Bar.  Now  I  find  by  Experience,  the  Character  is 
true  that  I  heard  of  you  long  ago,  that  you  are  a 
prating,  impertinent  Baggage.  Leave  off,  Simpleton, 
you  know  nothing  at  all  ;  this  I  am  sure  of,  that  if 
you  knew  but  half  I  know,  you  would  not  have  the 
Impudence  to  talk  at  this  Rate.  In  my  Academy  at 
Zwoll,  what  Glory,  Discipline  and  Improvement  is  there  ! 
If  I  should  but  begin  to  enumerate,  you'd  burst  with 
Envy. 


The  Conflict  between  Thalia  and  Barbarism  269 

Tha.  Yes,  forsooth  ;  and  so  I  believe  you  'd  make 
the  very  Post  and  Fillers  burst  with  your  braggadochia 
talking  : 3  But  however,  begin  and  burst  me  if  you 
can. 

Bar.  'Tis  too  long. 

Tha.  Well,  make  short  on't  then,  you  know  how. 

Bar.  Well  then,  I  '11  speak  in  brief  as  to  what  I 
was  saying  before  :  No  Body  is  able  to  number  the 
great  Confluence  of  Students  that  flock  from  all  Parts 
of  the  spacious  World  to  that  famous  School. 

Tha.  Phoo  !  what,  does  that  great  Ass  at  Zwoll  (I 
mean  the  great  Bell  of  the  School)  bray  so  loud,  as  to 
call  them  together  in  Crowds  ? 

Bar.  Sillyton,  forbear  railing,  and  hear  what 's  said  to 
you. 

Tha.  I  hear. 

Bar.  They  are  there  instructed,  and  render'd  learn'd 
in  a  Trice. 

TJia.  Wonderfully  learned,  indeed  ! 

Bar.  In  the  best  Glosses,  Vocabularies,  Arguments, 
and  innumerable  other  notable  Matters. 

Tha.  That's  rightly  spoken. 

Bar.  What  do  you  grin  at  ?  I  improve  them  to  that 
Degree,  that  there  is  nothing  they  are  ignorant  of. 

Tha.  Ay,  of  nothing  that's  Novelty. 

Bar.  As  they  grow  in  Stature,  so  they  do  in  Experi 
ence  ;  and  being  become  perfect  Masters,  they  are 
made  Instructors  of  others  :  Then  I  discharge  them, 
that  they  may  live  happily,  and  die  blessedly. 

Tha.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  I  envy  them  so  much,  I  can  hardly 
forbear  bursting  my  Sides  with  laughing. 

Bar.  Fool,  what  do  you  laugh  at  ?  Do  you  think 
what  I  say  deserves  to  be  laugh'd  at? 

Tha.  I  can  give  you  a  better  Account  of  the  Matter. 

Bar.  What,  you  ? 

Tha.  Yes,  I  ;  and  if  you  please  you  shall  hear  it 
too. 


272  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Elegancy  of  Words  ;  but  we  put  a  Lustre  upon  it,  as 
when  a  Jewel  is  set  in  Gold.  We  don't  take  the  Lustre 
from  it,  but  add  to  it  ;  we  don't  make  it  more  dark,  but 
shine  the  brighter,  And  last  of  all,  this  we  do,  we 
labour  that  that  Truth,  which  is  of  its  own  Nature 
profitable,  be  made  more  grateful  by  Industry.  As  for 
your  Partizans,  they  being  ignorant  of  these  Things, 
reproach,  carp  at,  and  are  envious  at  them.  If  they 

were  wise,  how  much  more  would  they  cry  me  up I 

have  stopt  your  Mouth  now  ;  I  '11  break  this  Silence. 

Bar.  I  might  have  said  that  more  justly  of  your 
Partizans. 

Tha.  I  have  broken  it. 

Bar.  Those  that  don't  understand  our  Poetry,  don't 
know  how  to  do  any  Thing,  but  to  laugh  and 
scoff. 

Tha.  They  are  such,  that  if  a  Man  understands  them, 
he  will  be  never  the  wiser  ;  and  if  he  does  not,  he  will 
know  never  the  less. 

Bar.  There  is  no  Need  of  a  great  many  Words,  the 
Thing  proves  itself. 

Tha.  The  Thing  prove  itself !  I  should  be  glad  to 
see  that. 

Bar.  I  mean  those  Persons,  which  the  Knowledge  of 
Things  has  render'd  famous. 

Tha.  Is  there  any  one  such  Person? 

Bar.  Yes,  without  Number. 

Tha.  That's  well  said,  as  if  no  Body  could  number 
them  ;  for  no  Body  can  number  that  which  is  but  one, 
and  not  that  neither  :  However,  you  may  begin,  tho' 
you  should  not  be  able  to  go  thro'  with  it. 

Bar.  In  the  first,  and  chief  Place,  Florista,  that  took 
his  Name  from  Flowers. 

Tha.  But  not  sweet-smelling  ones. 

Bar.  Then  here's  Papias. 

Tha.  A  very  learned  Man,  indeed  !  you  ought  to  have 
named  him  first. 


The  Conflict  between  Thalia  and  Barbarism   273 

Bar.  Then  here's  Huguito. 

Tha.  A  very  famous  Man  ! 

Bar.  And  Michael  Modista. 

Tha.  An  excellent  one  ! 

Bar.  Then  here's  James  Glosarius. 

Tha.  A  wonderful  Man  ! 

Bar.  And  him  that  I  esteem  above  them  all,  John  de 
Garlandia,  who  excels  in  such  an  Elegancy  of  Words, 
and  such  a  Majesty  of  Style,  that  there  are  but  very  few 
that  can  understand  him: 

Tha.  Nay,  no  Body  at  all,  unless  they  are  Barbarians 
as  well  as  he  ;  for  how  can  any  Body  easily  understand 
him,  who  did  not  well  understand  himself? 

Bar.  There's  no  End  in  talking  with  you  ;  you  out-do 
me  in  Words,  but  I  don't  think  Victory  consists  in  them. 
If  you  have  a  Mind  to  it,  let  us  each  of  us  try  what  we 
can  do.  Do  you  make  Verses  with  me.  Come,  don't 
stand  shivering  and  shaking,  nor  shilly-shally  ;  I  am 
ready  for  you  ;  then  it  will  appear  whether  of  us  gets 
the  better. 

Tha.  I  like  it  very  well.  Come  on,  let  us  try  :  But, 
Mistress  Poetess,  do  you  begin  first. 

Bar.  These  are  Verses  that  I  have  often  repeated  in 
the  Presence  of  very  learned  Men,  and  not  without  the 
great  Admiration  of  all  of  them. 

Tha.  I  believe  so  ;  now  begin. 

Bar.  Zwollenses  tales,  quod  eorutn  Theutonicales 

Nomen  per  paries  ubicunquc  probantur  et  arfes, 
Et  quasi  per  mundum  totum  sunt  nota  rotundum. 
Zwollensique  solo  proferre  latinica  solo 
Discunt  Clericuli  nimium  bene  verba  novelli. 

These  Verses  are  a  Demonstration  how  elegant  a  Poet 
I  am. 

Tha.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  they  contain  as  many  Barbarisms 
as  Words  :  This  to  be  sure  is  certainly  your  Father's 

VOL.  III.  S 


274  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Speech,  I  mean  Chiron's  ;  a  Poem  excellently  compos'd  ; 
I  won't  defer  giving  it  its  just  Due. 

Tale  sonant  insulsa  mihi  tua  carmina,  va/es, 
Quale  sonat  syl-vis  vox  irrudcntis  onagri ; 
Quale  boat  torvus  pecora  inter  agrestia  taurus, 
Qualeque  testiculis  gallus  genitalibus  orbits 
Concinit.  Haudvocem  humanam,  seddicoferinam. 
Hanc  celebres  laudate  viri,  et  doctissime  Florum 
Auctor,  ades;  gratos  in  serta  nitentia  flores 
Colligito,  meritceque  coronam  nectito  Divas  : 
Urticce  viridi  graveolcntem  junge  cicutam. 
Talia  nam  tali  debentur  prcemia  vati. 
Annue,  Barbaries,  tuque  hanc  sine  cornua  circum 
Inter  candidulas  laurum  tibi  nectier  aures. 

Bar.  This  makes  me  ready  to  spew  ;  I  can't  bear  to 
hear  such  silly  Stuff.  Do  I  loiter  away  my  Time  here, 
and  don't  go  to  Zwoll  to  see  what  my  Friends  are  doing 
there  ? 

Tha.  Make  Haste,  and  let  a  Blockhead  visit  the 
Blockheads  ;  your  coming  to  them  will  be  very  accept 
able  :  I  see  I  spend  my  Breath  upon  you  in  vain  :  You 
will  never  be  a  Changeling.  I  very  aptly  apply'd  to  you 
that  Verse  of  Virgil, 

Non  illam  nostri  possunt  mutare  labores. 

We  do  but  endeavour  to  wash  a  Black-moor  white. 

Mel.  At  the  beginning  of  this  Contention,  as  soon  as 
ever  we  espy'd  this  Monster,  we  all  grew  sick  at  the 
Stomach. 

Tha.  I  believe  so,  truly. 

Cal.  Mistress,  let  us  leave  this  beastly  Creature,  and 
betake  our  selves  to  the  airy  Top  of  Parnassus  Hill,  and 
the  Heliconian  Fountain. 

Tha.  Let  us  do  so. 


DES.  ERASMUS  OF  ROTTERDAM 
TO  THE  READER 

CONCERNING  THE 

PROFITABLENESS  OF  COLLOQUIES 

MALICIOUS  Detraction,  attended  with  the  Furies,  does 
at  this  Day  so  rage  throughout  the  whole  World,  that  it 
is  unsafe  to  publish  any  Book,  except  it  be  defended  by 
a  Guard.  Altho',  what  indeed  can  be  secure  enough 
from  the  Sting  of  a  false  Accuser,  who  like  the  Adder  at 
the  Voice  of  the  Charmer,  stops  his  Ear  from  hearing 
any  one  clearing  himself,  though  it  be  ever  so  justly  ? 
The  first  Part  of  this  Work,  which  is  mine  and  not 
mine,  was  publish'd  by  reason  of  the  Rashness  of  a 
certain  Man  :  Which  when  I  perceiv'd  it  was  receiv'd 
by  the  Students  with  great  Applause,  I  made  use  of  the 
Affection  of  the  common  People,  for  the  Furtherance  of 
Studies.  And  so  Physicians  themselves  don't  always 
administer  the  most  wholsome  Things  to  their  Patients, 
but  permit  them  to  take  some  Things,  because  they  have 
a  very  strong  Desire  for  them.  So  in  like  Manner,  I 
thought  meet  to  allure  tender  Youth  with  Inticements  of 
this  Sort,  who  are  more  easily  attracted  with  those 
Things  that  are  pleasant,  than  those  that  are  serious,  or 
the  most  exact.  Therefore  I  have  again  corrected  that 
which  was  published,  and  besides  have  added  such 
Things  as  may  conduce  to  the  forming  of  good  Manners, 
as  it  were  insinuating  into  the  Minds  of  young  Persons, 
whom  Aristotle  accounted  not  to  be  fit  Auditors  of 


276  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Moral  Philosophy,  viz.  such  as  is  deliver'd  in  serious  Pre 
cepts.  And  if  any  one  shall  cry  out,  that  it  is  an  unseemly 
Thing  for  an  old  Man  to  sport  himself  thus  childishly  ; 
I  care  not  how  childishly  it  be,  so  it  be  but  profitably. 
And  if  the  antient  Teachers  of  Children  are  commended, 
who  allur'd  them  with  Wafers,  that  they  might  be  willing 
to  learn  their  first  Rudiments ;  I  think  it  ought  not  to 
be  charg'd  as  a  Fault  upon  me,  that  by  the  like  Regard 
I  allure  Youths  either  to  the  Elegancy  of  the  Latin 
Tongue,  or  to  Piety.  And  besides,  it  is  a  good  Part  of 
Prudence  to  know  the  foolish  Affections  of  the  common 
People,  and  their  absurd  Opinions.  I  judge  it  to  be 
much  better  to  instruct  those  out  of  this  little  Book,  than 
by  Experience,  the  Mistress  of  Fools.  The  Rules 
of  Grammar  are  crabbed  Things  to  many  Persons. 
Aristotle's  Moral  Philosophy  is  not  fit  for  Children. 
Scotus's  Divinity  is  less  fit,  nor  is  it  indeed  of  any  great 
use  to  Men,  to  procure  them  Understanding.  And  it  is 
a  Matter  of  great  Moment  early  to  disseminate  a  Taste 
of  the  best  Things  into  the  tender  Minds  of  Children  ; 
and  I  cannot  tell  that  any  Thing  is  learn'd  with  better 
Success  than  what  is  learn'd  by  playing  :  And  this  is  in 
Truth  a  very  harmless  Sort  of  Fraud,  to  trick  a  Person 
into  his  own  Profit.  Physicians  are  commended  for 
cheating  their  Patients  after  this  Manner  ;  and  yet  if  I 
had  done  nothing  else  in  this  Matter  but  trifled,  they 
might  seem  to  have  borne  with  me ;  now,  because, 
besides  the  Elegancy  of  the  Language,  I  have  inserted 
some  Things  that  may  prepare  the  Mind  for  Religion, 
they  accuse  me  falsely,  and  as  tho'  the  Principles  of  the 
Christian  Religion  were  here  seriously  set  down,  they 
examine  every  Syllable  exactly.  How  unjustly  they  do 
this,  will  appear  more  evidently  when  I  shall  have  shewn 
the  great  Profitableness  of  some  Colloquies.  To  omit 
so  many  Sentences,  intermix'd  with  Jests ;  so  many 
pleasant  Stories,  and  the  Natures  of  so  many  Things 
worthy  to  be  taken  Notice  of; 


Concerning  the  Profitableness  of  Colloquies     277 

In  the  Colloquy  concerning  visiting  of  holy  Places, 
the  superstitious  and  immoderate  Affection  of  some  is 
restrain'd,  who  think  it  to  be  the  chiefest  Piety  to  have 
visited  Jerusalem  ;  and  thither  do  old  Bishops  run  over 
so  great  Tracts  of  Land  and  Sea,  leaving  their  Charge, 
which  they  should  rather  have  taken  Care  of.  Thither 
also  do  Princes  run,  leaving  their  Families  and  their 
Dominions.  Thither  do  Husbands  run,  leaving  their 
Wives  and  Children  at  Home,  whose  Manners  and 
Chastity  it  were  necessary  to  have  been  guarded  by 
them.  Thither  do  young  Men  and  Women  run,  with 
the  Hazard  of  their  Manners  and  Integrity.  And  some 
go  the  second  Time,  ay,  do  nothing  else  all  their  Life 
long ;  and  in  the  mean  Time  the  Pretence  of  Religion 
is  made  the  Excuse  for  their  Superstition,  Inconstancy, 
Folly,  and  Rashness  ;  and  he  that  deserts  his  Family 
contrary  to  the  Doctrine  of  St.  Paul,  bears  away  the 
Bell  for  Sanctimony,  and  thinks  himself  compleatly 
religious.  Paul,  I  Tim.  v.  8.  boldly  says,  '  But  if  any 
provide  not  for  his  own,  and  especially  those  of  his  own 
House  ;  he  hath  denied  the  Faith,  and  is  worse  than  an 
Infidel.'  And  yet  Paul  in  this  Place  seems  to  speak  of 
Widows  that  neglect  their  Children  and  Grand-children, 
and  that  under  Pretence  of  Religion,  while  they  give 
themselves  up  to  the  Service  of  the  Church.  What 
would  he  say  of  Husbands,  who  leave  their  tender 
Children  and  young  Wives,  and  that  in  a  poor  Condition, 
to  take  a  Journey  to  Jerusalem  ?  I  will  produce  but  one 
Example  out  of  many,  and  not  so  long  ago  but  that  the 
Grand-children  are  still  living,  whom  the  great  Damage 
they  sustain'd  does  not  suffer  to  forget  what  was  done. 

A  certain  great  Man  took  a  Resolution  to  pay  a  Visit 
to  Jerusalem  before  he  died,  with  a  religious  Intent 
indeed,  but  not  well  advis'd.  Having  set  in  order  the 
Affairs  of  his  Possessions,  he  committed  the  Care  and 
Custody  of  his  Lady,  who  was  big  with  Child,  of  his 
Towns  and  Castles,  to  an  Archbishop,  as  to  a  Father. 


278  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

As  soon  as  the  News  arriv'd  that  the  Man  was  dead  in 
his  Pilgrimage,  the  Archbishop,  instead  of  acting  the 
Part  of  a  Father,  play'd  the  Robber,  seiz'd  all  the  dead 
Man's  Possessions,  and  besieg'd  a  strong  well-defended 
Castle,  into  which  the  Lady  great  with  Child,  had  fled  ; 
and  having  taken  it  by  Storm,  lest  anyone  should  survive 
who  might  revenge  the  heinous  Fact,  the  Lady  great 
with  Child,  together  with  her  Infant,  was  run  thro'  and 
died.  Would  it  not  have  been  a  pious  Deed,  to  have 
dissuaded  this  Man  from  so  dangerous  and  unnecessary 
a  Journey  ?  How  many  Examples  of  this  Kind  there 
are  to  be  found,  I  leave  others  to  judge.  In  the  mean 
Time,  to  say  nothing  of  the  Charges,  which  tho'  I  grant 
they  be  not  entirely  lost,  yet  there  is  no  wise  Man  but 
will  confess,  that  they  might  have  been  laid  out  to  far 
better  Purpose  :  But  then  as  to  the  Religion  of  making- 
such  Visits,  St.  Jerome  commends  Hilarion  in  that,  tho' 
he  was  a  Native  of  Palestine,  and  dwelt  in  Palestine, 
yet  he  never  went  to  see  Jerusalem,  tho'  it  was  so  near, 
but  once,  lest  he  might  seem  to  despise  holy  Places.  If 
Hilarion  was  deservedly  commended,  because  being  so 
near,  he  forbore  going  to  visit  Jerusalem,  lest  he  should 
seem  to  shut  up  God  in  a  narrow  Compass,  and  went 
thither  but  once,  and  that  by  Reason  of  the  nearness  of 
the  Place,  lest  he  might  give  Offence  to  any  ;  what  shall 
we  say  of  those  who  go  to  Jerusalem  thro'  so  many 
Dangers,  and  at  so  great  Expence,  out  of  England  and 
Scotland,  and  especially  leaving  their  nearest  and  dearest 
Relations  at  Home,  of  whom,  according  to  the  Doctrine 
of  the  Apostle,  they  ought  to  have  a  continual  Care  ? 
St.  Jerome  proclaims  aloud,  'that  it  is  no  great  Matter 
to  have  been  at  Jerusalem,  but  it  is  a  great  Thing  to 
have  lived  well.'  And  yet  it  is  probable  that  in  Jerome's 
Time  there  were  more  evident  Footsteps  of  antient 
Monuments  to  be  seen,  than  now.  As  to  the  Dispute 
concerning  Vows,  I  leave  that  to  others.  This  Colloquy 
only  treats,  that  none  should  rashly  take  such  Vows 


Concerning  the  Profitableness  of  Colloquies     279 

upon  them  :  That  this  is  true,  these  Words  of  mine 
plainly  shew  ;  '  Especially  I  having  a  Wife  at  home,  as 
yet  in  the  flower  of  her  Age,  Children,  and  a  Family 
which  depended  upon  me,  and  were  maintain'd  by  my 
daily  Labour  ; '  and  other  Words  that  follow.  Therefore 
I  will  say  nothing  of  Vows  that  are  made,  only  this,  that 
if  I  were  Pope,  I  would  not  unwillingly  discharge  those 
that  had  bound  themselves  from  them.  In  undertaking 
them,  as  I  grant  that  it  is  possible  for  some  one  to  go  to 
Jerusalem  with  an  Advantage  to  Piety  ;  so  I  should 
make  no  Scruple  from  many  Circumstances  of  Things, 
to  advise,  that  they  would  lay  out  the  Expences,  Time, 
and  Pains,  to  other  Purposes,  which  would  more 
immediately  conduce  to  true  Piety.  I  judge  these  to  be 
pious  Things,  and  for  that  Reason  considering  either 
the  Inconstancy  or  Ignorance,  or  Superstition  of  many, 
I  have  thought  it  proper  to  give  Youth  Warning  of  that 
Thing  ;  and  I  do  not  see  whom  this  Admonition  ought 
to  offend,  unless  perhaps  such  Persons  to  whom  Gain  is 
preferable  to  Godliness.  Nor  do  I  there  condemn  the 
Pope's  Indulgences  or  Pardons  ;  but  that  most  vain 
Trifler,  who  put  all  his  Hope  in  Men's  Pardons,  without 
the  least  Thought  of  amending  his  Life.  If  any  one 
shall  seriously  consider  with  me  how  great  a  Destruction 
of  Piety  arises  among  Men,  partly  by  their  Vices,  who 
prostitute  the  Pope's  Indulgences,  and  partly  by  the 
Fault  of  them  who  take  them  otherwise  than  they  ought 
to  do,  he  will  confess  that  it  is  worth  the  while  to 
admonish  young  Men  of  this  Matter.  But  some  may 
say,  by  this  Means  the  Commissioners  lose  their  Gain  : 
Hear  me,  O  honest  Man  ;  if  they  are  good  Men,  they 
will  rejoice  that  the  Simple  are  thus  admonish'd ;  but  if 
they  are  such  as  prefer  Gain  before  Godliness,  fare 
them  well. 

In  the  Colloquy  concerning  hunting  after  Benefices,  I 
blame  those  who  frequently  run  to  Rome  and  hunt  after 
Benefices,  oftentimes  with  the  corrupting  their  Manners, 


280  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

and  loss  of  their  Money  ;  and  for  that  Reason  I  carry 
on  my  Discourse,  that  a  Priest  should  delight  himself  in 
reading  good  Authors,  instead  of  a  Concubine. 

In  the  Soldiers  Confession,  I  tax  the  Villanies  of 
Soldiers,  and  their  wicked  Confessions  ;  that  young 
Men  may  detest  such  Manners. 

In  the  Schoolmaster's  Admonitions,  I  teach  a  Boy 
Shamefacedness,  and  Manners  becoming  his  Age. 

In  the  Chihts  Piety,  do  I  not  furnish  a  childish  Mind 
with  godly  Precepts,  for  the  Study  of  Piety?  As  for 
that  which  some  have  snarl'd  at  concerning  Confession, 
it  is  a  mere  Calumny,  to  which  I  have  answer'd  long 
ago.  I  teach  that  Confession  is  to  be  perform'd,  just  as 
it  was  ordain'd  for  us  by  Christ  :  But  whether  it  be  so 
done,  I  have  neither  a  Mind  to  disprove  nor  affirm, 
because  I  am  not  thoroughly  satisfied  of  it  myself :  nor 
am  I  able  to  prove  it  to  others.  And  whereas  I  advise 
to  deliberate  about  chusing  a  Kind  of  Life,  and  to  make 
choice  of  a  Priest  to  whom  you  may  commit  your  Secrets, 
I  judg'd  it  to  be  necessary  for  young  Men  ;  nor  do  I  see 
any  Reason  why  I  should  repent  of  it.  But  if  so,  there 
will  be  fewer  Monks  and  Priests  :  It  may  be  so ;  but 
then  perhaps  they  will  be  better,  and  whosoever  is  a 
Monk  indeed,  will  prove  it  so.  And  besides,  they  who 
endeavour  to  make  Men  be  of  their  own  Persuasion, 
either  for  the  Sake  of  their  own  Gain  or  Superstition,  do 
very  well  deserve  to  be  defam'd  by  the  Writings  of  all 
Men,  that  they  may  be  brought  to  Repentance. 

In  the  Profane  Feast,  I  condemn  not  the  Ordinances 
of  the  Church  concerning  Fasts  and  choice  of  Meats  ; 
but  I  point  out  the  Superstition  of  some  Men,  who  lay 
more  Stress  on  these  Things  than  they  ought  to  do,  and 
neglect  those  Things  that  are  more  conducive  to  Piety. 
And  I  condemn  the  Cruelty  of  them,  who  require  strictly 
these  Things  of  those  Persons  from  whom  the  Meaning 
of  the  Church  does  not  exact  them  ;  and  also  the 
preposterous  Holiness  of  those  Persons  who  condemn 


Concerning  the  Profitableness  of  Colloquies     281 

their  Neighbour  for  such  Things.  Here,  if  any  one  shall 
consider  how  great  a  Mischief  among  Men  accrues  hence 
to  Godliness,  he  will  confess  that  scarce  any  other 
Admonition  is  more  necessary.  But  in  another  Place  I 
shall  give  a  fuller  Answer  to  this  Matter. 

In  the  Religious  Feast,  altho'  I  make  them  all  Lay- 
Men,  and  all  married  Men,  yet  I  sufficiently  shew  what 
Sort  of  Feast  that  of  all  Christians  ought  to  be.  With 
which  Pattern,  if  some  Monks  and  Priests  compare  their 
Feasts,  they  will  perceive  how  far  short  they  fall  of  that 
Perfection,  in  which  they  ought  to  exceed  Lay-Men. 

In  the  Canonization,  I  shew  what  Honour  is  due  to 
Men  of  Excellency,  who  have  well  deserv'd  by  their 
Studies  of  the  Liberal  Arts. 

They  are  foolish  who  think  that  the  Colloquy  between 
the  Maid  and  her  Sweetheart  is  lascivious,  whereas 
nothing  can  be  imagin'd  more  chaste,  if  Wedlock  be  an 
honest  Thing,  and  it  be  honest  to  be  a  Woer.  And  I 
could  wish  that  all  Woers  were  such  as  I  suppose  one  in 
this  Colloquy  to  be,  and  that  Marriages  were  contracted 
with  no  other  Discourses.  What  can  you  do  with  those 
of  a  sour  Disposition,  and  averse  to  all  pleasant  Discourse, 
who  think  all  that  is  friendly  and  merry,  is  unchaste  ? 
This  young  Maid  refuses  to  give  her  Sweetheart  a  Kiss 
at  his  Departure,  that  she  may  preserve  her  Virginity 
for  him  entire.  But  what  do  not  Maids  now-a-Days 
grant  to  their  Sweethearts  ?  Besides,  they  don't  perceive 
how  many  Philosophical  Sayings  are  intermix'd  with 
Jests,  concerning  Marriages  so  hastily  made  up  ;  con 
cerning  the  choice  of  Bodies,  but  much  more  of  Minds  ; 
concerning  the  firmness  of  Matrimony  ;  concerning  not 
contracting  Marriages  without  the  Consent  of  Parents, 
and  of  keeping  them  chastly  ;  of  the  religious  Education 
of  Children  :  And  in  the  last  Place,  the  young  Maid 
prays,  that  Christ  by  his  Favour  would  make  their 
Marriage  happy.  Is  it  not  fit  that  young  Men  and  Maids 
should  know  those  Things  ?  And  Persons  who  think 


284  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

these  Things  by  pleasant  Colloquies,  than  by  Experience. 
Socrates  brought  Philosophy  down  even  from  Heaven 
to  Earth,  and  I  have  made  it  a  Diversion,  brought  it  into 
familiar  Conversation,  and  to  the  Table  :  For  even  the 
Divertisements  of  Christians  ought  to  savour  of  Philo 
sophy. 

In  the  Rich  Beggars,  how  many  Things  are  there  by 
which  Country-Parsons  that  are  ignorant  and  illiterate, 
and  no  Way  deserving  the  Name  of  Pastors,  may  be 
enabled  to  amend  their  Lives  ?  And  besides,  to  take 
away  the  glorying  in  Garments,  and  to  restrain  the 
Madness  of  those  who  hate  a  Monk's  Attire,  as  if  a 
Garment  were  evil  of  itself?  And  by  the  Way,  there  is 
a  Pattern  set  down,  what  Sort  of  Persons  those  Monks 
ought  to  be,  who  walk  to  and  fro  through  the  Villages  ; 
for  there  are  not  many  such  as  I  here  describe. 

In  the  Learned  Woman,  I  refresh  the  Memory  of  the 
old  Example  of  Paula,  Eustochium,  and  Marcella,  who 
added  the  Study  of  Learning  to  the  Integrity  of  Manners  : 
And  I  incite  Monks  and  Abbots,  who  are  Haters  of 
sacred  Studies,  and  give  themselves  up  to  Luxury, 
Idleness,  Hunting,  and  Gaming,  to  other  Kind  of 
Studies  more  becoming  them,  by  the  Example  of  a 
young  married  Woman. 

In  the  Apparition  I  detect  the  Wiles  of  Impostors, 
who  are  wont  to  impose  upon  well-meaning  credulous 
People,  by  feigning  Apparitions  of  Devils,  and  Souls, 
and  Voices  from  Heaven  :  And  what  a  great  deal  of 
Mischief  have  these  juggling  Tricks  done  to  Christian 
Piety?  And  because  an  ignorant  and  simple  Age  is  in 
an  especial  Manner  liable  to  be  impos'd  upon  by  these 
Deceptions,  I  thought  it  proper  to  set  forth  the  Manner 
of  the  Imposture  to  the  Life  by  a  facetious  Example. 
Pope  Celestine  himself  was  impos'd  upon  by  such  Tricks ; 
and  a  young  Man  of  Berne  deluded  by  Monks ;  and 
even  at  this  very  Day,  many  are  thus  impos'd  upon  by 
devised  Oracles. 


Concerning  the  Profitableness  of  Colloquies     285 

Nor  are  the  least  Part  of  human  Miseries  owing  to 
Alchymy,  by  which  even  learned  and  wise  Men  are 
impos'd  upon  ;  it  being  so  pleasing  a  Disease,  if  once 
any  one  be  seiz'd  with  it.  To  this  Magick  is  also  a-kin, 
being  the  same  in  Name,  but  flattering  them  with  the 
Sirname  of  Natural.  I  charge  Horse-Coursers  with  the 
same  cheating  Tricks,  and  in  the  Beggars  Dialogue ; 
and  again  in  the  Fabulotts  Feast.  If  Boys  should,  from 
these  Colloquies,  learn  nothing  else  but  to  speak  Latin  ; 
of  how  much  greater  Commendations  are  my  Labours 
worthy,  who  by  that  Way  of  Play  and  Divertisement 
effect  that,  than  theirs  who  enforc'd  upon  Youth  the 
Mainniotrecti,Brachylogi,Catholicontce,2x\&  the  Methods 
of  signifying. 

In  the  Lying-in  Woman,  besides  the  Knowledge  of 
natural  Things,  there  are  a  great  many  good  Morals 
concerning  the  Care  of  Mothers  towards  their  Children  ; 
first  while  they  are  Infants,  and  again  after  they  are 
grown  up. 

In  the  Religious  Pilgrimage,  I  reprehend  those  who 
have  tumultuously  cast  all  Images  out  of  Churches,  and 
also  those  that  are  mad  upon  going  on  Pilgrimage  under 
Pretence  of  Religion,  from  whence  also  now-a-Days 
Societies  are  formed.  They  who  have  been  at  Jerusalem 
arrogate  to  themselves  the  Title  of  Knights,  and  call 
themselves  Brothers ;  and  on  Palm-Sunday  devoutly 
perform  a  ridiculous  Action,  and  drag  an  Ass  by  a  Rope, 
making  themselves  at  most  as  mere  Asses,  as  the 
wooden  Ass  they  drag  along.  They  also,  that  have 
gone  on  Pilgrimage  to  Compostella,  have  imitated  them 
in  this.  Let  these  Practices  be  allow'd,  let  them  be 
allow'd  to  gratify  the  Humours  of  Men  ;  but  it  is  an 
unsufferable  Thing,  that  they  should  make  it  a  Part  of 
Piety.  Those  Persons  also  are  remark'd  upon,  who 
shew  uncertain  Reliques  for  certain  ones,  and  attribute 
more  to  them  that  they  ought  to  be,  and  basely  make  a 
Gain  of  them. 


288  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

his  Book  ;  but  ridiculously  calling  them  Anticomaritae, 
whom  he  should  have  call'd  Antemarians,  or  Anti- 
dicomarians. 

In  the  Cyclops  I  reprove  such  as  have  the  Gospel 
in  their  Mouth,  when  nothing  like  the  Gospel  appears 
in  their  Lives. 

In  the  Unequal  Marriage  I  set  forth  the  Folly  of 
People  in  common,  when  in  matching  their  Daughters 
they  have  regard  to  the  Wealth,  but  disregard  the 
Pox  of  the  Bride-Groom,  which  is  worse  than  any 
Leprosy.  And  that  now-a-Days  is  so  common  a 
Practice,  that  no  Body  wonders  at  it  ;  altho'  nothing 
can  be  more  cruel  against  their  Children. 

In  the  Feigned  Nobility,  I  describe  a  Sort  of  Men, 
who  under  the  Cloak  of  Nobility,  think  they  may  do 
any  Thing  ;  which  is  a  very  great  Plague  to  Germany. 

In  the  Parliament  of  Women,  I  was  about  to  re 
prehend  some  of  the  Vices  of  Women  ;  but  civilly, 
that  no  Body  might  expect  any  Thing  like  what  is 
in  Juvenal.  But  while  I  was  about  this,  the  Knight 
without  a  Horse  presented  itself,  according  to  the  old 
Saying,  'Talk  of  the  Devil,  and  he  appears.' 

The  rest  are  in  a  Manner  all  compos'd  for  Diversion, 
and  that  not  dishonest ;  which  is  not  to  defame  the 
Orders  but  to  instruct  them.  Wherefore  it  would  be 
more  to  the  Advantage  of  all  the  Orders,  both  privately 
and  publickly,  if  they  all  would  lay  aside  the  Rage 
of  Reviling,  and  would  with  Candour  of  Mind  embrace 
whatsoever  is  offer'd  with  an  honest  Intention  for  the 
publick  Good.  One  has  one  Gift,  and  another  has 
another ;  some  are  taken  with  one  Thing,  and  some 
with  another  ;  and  there  are  a  thousand  Ways  by 
which  Men  are  attracted  to  Piety.  The  Study  of 
Juvencus  is  commended  who  publish'd  the  History 
of  the  sacred  Gospels  in  Verse.  And  Arator  is  not 
without  his  Praises,  who  did  the  same  by  the  Acts 
of  the  Apostles.  Hilary  blew  the  Trumpet  against 


Concerning  the  Profitableness  of  Colloquies     289 

Hereticks.  Augustin  argues  sharply.  Jerome  argues 
by  way  of  Dialogue.  Prudentius  maintains  the  Com 
bat  in  a  various  Kind  of  Verse.  Thomas  and  Scotus 
fight  with  the  Auxiliaries  of  Logick  and  Philosophy. 
Their  Studies  have  the  same  Tendency,  but  the  method 
of  each  is  different.  That  Diversity  is  not  to  be 
blamed  that  tends  to  the  same  End.  Peter  the 
Spaniard  is  read  to  Boys,  that  they  may  be  the 
better  prepar'd  to  read  Aristotle ;  for  he  hath  set 
them  a  good  Step  forwards,  that  hath  given  them  a 
Relish.  But  this  Book,  if  it  be  first  read  by  Youth, 
will  introduce  them  to  many  useful  Parts  of  Science, 
to  Poetry,  Rhetorick,  Physicks,  and  Ethicks ;  and 
lastly,  to  those  Things  that  appertain  to  Christian 
Piety.  I  have  taken  upon  me  to  sustain  the  Person  of 
a  Fool,  in  blazoning  my  own  Merit  ;  but  I  have  been 
induc'd  to  it,  partly  by  the  Malice  of  some  who  re 
proach  every  Thing,  and  partly  for  the  Advantage  of 
Christian  Youth,  the  Benefit  of  whom  all  ought  with 
their  utmost  Endeavour  to  further. 

Tho'  Matters  stand  thus,  and  are  manifestly  so  to 
all  Persons  of  Understanding,  yet  there  is  a  stupid 
Generation  of  Men,  whom  the  French  call  Deputati  ; 
and  for  this  Reason,  as  I  suppose,  because  they  are 
but  diminutively  polite,  who  speak  thus  of  my  Collo 
quies,  They  are  a  Work  to  be  shunn'd,  especially  by 
Monks,  whom  they  term  the  Religious,  and  by  young 
Men,  because  the  Fasts  and  Abstinences  of  the  Church 
are  therein  set  light  by,  and  the  Intercession  of  the 
blessed  Virgin  Mary  droll'd  upon  ;  and  that  Virginity 
is  not  comparable  to  a  Marriage-State,  and  because 
all  are  dissuaded  from  entring  upon  Religion,  and 
because  in  it  the  hard  and  Difficult  Questions  of 
Divinity  are  propounded  to  weak  Grammarians,  con 
trary  to  the  Orders  sworn  to  by  the  Masters  of  Arts. 
Candid  Reader,  you  are  not  unacquainted  with  the 
Athenian  Eloquence.  I  shall  first  give  an  Answer  to 

VOL.  III.  T 


290  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

the  last  of  these  Objections.  As  to  what  the  Masters 
of  Art  propound  to  their  Pupils,  I  know  not :  The 
Matters  treated  of  in  my  Colloquies  concerning  the 
Creed,  the  Mass,  Fasting,  Vows,  and  Confession,  con 
tain  nothing  of  theological  Difficulty  ;  but  they  are  of 
that  Kind,  that  every  one  ought  to  be  acquainted  with. 
And  besides,  seeing  the  Epistles  of  St.  Paul  are  read  to 
Boys,  what  Danger  is  there  in  giving  them  a  Taste  of 
Theological  Disputations  ?  And  further,  whereas  they 
know,  that  the  intricate  Questions  of  greatest  Difficulty 
(I  do  not  say  of  vain  Subtilty)  concerning  the  divine 
Persons,  are  very  early  propounded  to  young  Students 
in  Sophistry,  why  are  they  not  willing  that  Boys  should 
learn  that  which  concerns  common  Life  ?  And  now  if 
this  be  their  Opinion,  it  is  no  Matter  what  is  said  in  the 
Person  of  such  or  such  a  one  ;  then  they  must  suppose, 
that  there  are  many  Things  in  the  Writings  of  the 
Evangelists,  and  of  the  Apostles,  which,  according  to 
this  Rule,  are  downright  Blasphemy.  In  many  places 
I  approve  of  Fasting,  and  no  where  condemn  it.  He 
that  shall  assert  the  contrary,  I  will  declare  him  to  be 
an  impudent  Liar.  But,  say  they,  in  the  cJiildish  Piety 
there  are  these  Words  '  I  have  nothing  to  do  with 
Fasting.'  Suppose  these  Words  were  spoken  in  the 
Person  of  a  Soldier,  or  a  Drunkard  ;  does  Erasmus  of 
Necessity  condemn  Fasting?  I  think  not.  Now  they 
are  spoken  by  a  Youth,  not  yet  arriv'd  at  that  Age, 
from  which  the  Law  requires  the  Observation  of  Fasts  ; 
and  yet  that  Youth  prepares  himself  for  fasting  rightly  ; 
for  he  proceeds  thus,  '  But  yet  if  I  find  occasion,  I  dine 
and  sup  sparingly,  that  I  may  be  more  lively  for  spiri 
tual  Exercises  on  Holy-days.' 

And  how  I  condemn  Abstinency,  these  Words  in  the 
profane  Feast  declare  ;  '  In  a  great  many  Circum 
stances,  it  is  not  the  Thing,  but  the  Mind,  that  distin 
guishes  us  from  Jews  ;  they  held  their  Hands  from 
certain  Meats,  as  unclean  Things,  that  would  pollute 


Concerning  the  Profitableness  of  Colloquies     291 

the  Mind  ;  but  we  understanding,  that  to  the  Pure  all 
Things  are  pure,  yet  take  away  Food  from  the  wanton 
Flesh,  as  we  do  Hay  from  a  pamper'd  Horse,  that  it 
may  be  more  ready  to  hearken  to  the  Spirit.  We 
sometimes  chastise  the  immoderate  Use  of  pleasant 
Things,  by  the  Pain  of  Abstinence.'  And  a  little  after 
he  gives  a  Reason  why  the  Church  has  forbidden  the 
eating  of  certain  Meats.  To  the  Question,  'To  whom 
does  the  Injunction  do  good?'  Says  he, 'To  all;  for 
poor  Folks  may  eat  Cockles  or  Frogs,  or  gnaw  upon 
Onions  or  Leeks.  The  middle  Sort  of  People  will 
make  some  Abatement  in  their  usual  Provision  :  And 
tho'  the  Rich  do  make  it  an  Occasion  of  their  living 
deliciously,  they  ought  to  impute  that  to  their  Gluttony, 
and  not  blame  the  Constitution  of  the  Church.'  And 
again  I  speak  thus,  '  I  know  Doctors  do  very  much  find 
fault  with  the  eating  of  Fish  ;  but  our  Ancestors  thought 
otherwise,  and  it  is  our  Duty  to  obey  them.'  And 
presently,  in  the  same  place,  I  teach,  '  But  the  Offence 
of  the  Weak  ought  to  be  avoided.' 

It  is  as  false,  that  the  Favour  of  the  blessed  Virgin, 
and  other  Saints,  are  droll'd  upon  in  my  Colloquies  ; 
but  I  deride  those  who  beg  those  things  of  the  Saints, 
which  they  dare  not  ask  of  a  good  Man  ;  or  pray  to 
certain  Saints  with  this  Notion,  as  if  this  or  that  Saint 
either  could,  or  would  sooner  grant  this  or  that  Thing, 
than  another  Saint,  or  Christ  himself  would  do.  Yea, 
and  in  the  Child's  Pzety,  the  Lad  speaks  thus,  '  I  salute 
Jesus  again  in  three  Words,  and  all  the  Saints,  either 
Men  or  Women  ;  but  the  Virgin  Mary  by  Name,  and 
especially  that  I  account  most  peculiarly  my  own/ 
And  afterwards  he  mentions  by  Name,  what  Saint  he 
salutes  daily. 

And  is  it  any  strange  Thing,  that  a  Suitor  to  a  young 
Maid,  should  commend  a  married  Life,  and  says, 
'  That  chaste  Wedlock  does  not  come  far  short  of 
Virginity?'  Especially  when  St.  Austin  himself  pre- 


292  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

fers  the  Polygamy  of  the  Patriarchs  before  our  single 
Life. 

As  to  what  they  object  concerning  the  entring  into 
a  religious  Life,  my  Words  declare  how  plainly  vain 
it  is,  in  the  '  Virgin  hating  Marriage '  ;  for  the  Maid 
speaks  thus,  'Are  you  then  in  the  main  against  the 
Institution  of  a  monastick  Life?'  The  young  Man 
answers,  '  No,  by  no  Means  ;  but  as  I  will  not  persuade 
any  Body  against  it,  that  is  already  engag'd  in  this  Sort 
of  Life,  to  endeavour  to  get  out  of  it  ;  so  I  would  most 
undoubtedly  caution  all  young  Women,  especially  those 
of  generous  Tempers,  not  to  precipitate  themselves 
unadvisedly  into  that  State,  from  whence  there  is  no 
getting  out  afterwards.'  This  is  the  Conclusion  of  that 
Colloquy,  however  they  had  disputed  before.  Pray, 
does  this  dissuade  from  entring  upon  a  religious  Life  ? 
The  entring  into  it  is  not  condemn'd,  but  the  unadvis'd 
Rashness  of  it :  Therefore  they  maliciously  wrest  my 
Words,  in  order  to  reproach  me.  But,  at  the  same 
Time,  they  do  not  animadvert,  how  many  Things 
young  Students  thence  learn,  that  oppugn  the  Opinions 
of  the  Lutherans. 

In  the  childish  Pz'efy,  the  Way  of  hearing  the  Mass 
well  and  profitably  is  taught,  and  the  true  and  effectual 
Way  of  Confession  is  shown.  Young  Students  are  there 
instructed,  that  those  Things  that  are  us'd  by  Christians 
tho'  they  are  not  found  in  the  Scriptures,  must  never 
theless  be  observ'd,  lest  we  give  Occasion  of  Offence 
to  any  Person. 

In  the  Profane  Feast  they  are  instructed,  that  they 
ought  rather  to  obey  the  Institutions  of  Popes,  than 
the  Prescriptions  of  Physicians  ;  only  they  are  given 
to  understand,  that  in  case  of  Necessity  the  Force  of 
a  human  Law  ceases,  and  the  Intention  of  the  Law- 
Giver.  There  a  certain  Person  approves  of  Liberality 
towards  the  Colleges  of  Monks,  if  Men  give  for  real 
Use,  and  not  to  support  Luxury  ;  and  especially 


Concerning  the  Profitableness  of  Colloquies     293 

if  given  to  those  that  observe  the  Discipline  of 
Religion. 

In  the  Colloquy  concerning  Eating  of  Fish,  this  is 
said  concerning  human  Institutions;  'Well,  let  them 
fight  that  love  fighting  ;  I  think  we  ought  with  Re 
verence  to  receive  the  Laws  of  our  Superiours,  and 
religiously  observe  them,  as  coming  from  God ;  nor 
is  it  either  safe  or  religious,  either  to  conceive  in  Mind 
or  sow  among  others  any  sinister  Suspicion  concerning 
them ;  and  if  there  is  any  Superstition  in  them,  that 
does  not  compel  us  to  Impiety,  it  is  better  to  bear  it, 
than  seditiously  to  resist.' 

Young  Students  may  learn  many  such  Things  out 
of  my  Colloquies,  against  which  these  Men  make  such 
a  Murmuring  :  But,  say  they,  it  does  not  become  a 
Divine  to  jest ;  but  let  them  grant  me  to  do  this,  at 
least  among  Boys,  which  they  themselves  take  the 
Liberty  to  do  among  Men,  in  their  Vesperiae,  as  they 
call  them,  a  foolish  Thing  by  a  foolish  Name. 

As  for  those  foolish  Calumnies  that  some  Spaniards 
have  cast  upon  me,  I  have  shown  that  they  are  mere 
Dreams  of  Men,  that  are  neither  Sober,  nor  well  under 
standing  the  Latin  Tongue ;  nor  has  that  less  of 
Learning  in  it,  where  one  has  said,  that  it  is  an  here 
tical  Expression,  that  in  the  Creed  the  Father  is  call'd 
simply,  'the  Author  of  all  Things';  for  he  being 
deceiv'd  by  his  Ignorance  of  the  Latin  Tongue,  thinks 
that  Author  signifies  nothing  else  but  Creator  or 
Framer.  But  if  he  shall  consult  those  that  are  well 
skill'd  in  the  Latin  Tongue,  if  he  shall  read  Hilary, 
and  other  antient  Authors,  he  will  find  that  Authority 
is  taken  for  that  which  the  School-Men  call  the  most 
perfect  Cause  of  the  Beginning ;  and  therefore  they 
attribute  it  peculiarly  to  the  Father  ;  and  by  the  Name 
of  Author  often  mean  the  Father,  when  they  compare 
the  Persons  among  themselves.  Whether  the  Father 
can  rightly  be  call'd  the  Cause  of  the  Son,  does  not 


294  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

concern  me,  seeing  I  have  never  us'd  the  Word  Son  ; 
unless  that  this  is  most  true,  that  we  can't  speak  of 
God,  but  in  improper  Words  ;  nor  are  the  Fountain, 
or  Beginning,  or  Original,  more  proper  Words  than  the 
Cause. 

Now,  Reader,  consider  with  me  what  Sort  of  Persons 
sometimes  they  are,  who  by  their  Notions  bring  Men 
to  the  Stake.  There  is  nothing  more  base  than  to 
find  fault  with  that  thou  dost  not  understand.  But 
that  Vice  of  vilifying  every  Thing,  what  does  it  produce 
but  Bitterness  and  Discord  ?  Therefore  let  us  rather 
candidly  interpret  other  Men's  Works,  and  not  esteem 
our  own  as  Oracles,  nor  look  upon  the  Judgments  of 
those  Men  as  Oracles,  who  don't  understand  what 
they  read.  Where  there  is  Hatred  in  judging,  Judg 
ment  is  blind.  May  that  Spirit,  which  is  the  Pacifier 
of  all,  who  uses  his  Instruments  various  ways,  make 
us  all  agree  and  consent  in  sound  Doctrine,  and 
holy  Manners,  that  we  may  all  come  to  the  Fellow 
ship  of  the  new  Jerusalem,  that  knows  no  Discords. 
Amen. 

In  the  Year  1526  at  Basil. 


ERASMUS  OF  ROTTERDAM 

OF  THE 

METHOD  OF  STUDY 

TO 

CHRISTIANUS  OF  LUBECK 

My  special  Friend  Christian, 

MAKING  no  doubt  but  that  you  have  an  ardent  Desire 
of  Literature,  I  thought  you  stood  in  no  Need  of 
Exhortation  ;  but  only  a  Guide  to  direct  you  in  the 
Journey  you  have  already  enter'd  upon  :  And  that  I 
look'd  upon  as  my  Duty  to  be,  to  you,  the  most 
nearly  ally'd  to  me,  and  engaging ;  that  is  to  say, 
to  acquaint  you  with  the  Steps  that  I  myself  took, 
even  from  a  Child  :  Which  if  you  shall  accept  as 
heartily  as  I  communicate,  I  trust  I  shall  neither 
repent  me  of  giving  Directions,  nor  you  of  observing 
them.  Let  it  be  your  first  Care  to  chuse  you  a  Master, 
who  is  a  Man  of  Learning  ;  for  it  cannot  be,  that  one 
that  is  unlearned  himself  can  render  another  learned. 
As  soon  as  you  have  gotten  such  an  one,  endeavour 
all  you  can  to  engage  him  to  treat  you  with  the 
Affection  of  a  Father,  and  yourself  to  act  towards 
him  with  the  Affection  of  a  Son.  And  indeed,  Reason 
ought  to  induce  us  to  consider,  that  we  owe  more 
to  those,  from  whom  we  receive  the  Way  of  living 


296  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

well,  than  to  those  to  whom  we  owe  our  first  Living 
in  the  World  ;  and  that  a  mutual  Affection  is  of  so 
great  Moment  to  Learning,  that  it  will  be  to  no 
Purpose  to  have  a  Teacher,  if  he  be  not  your  Friend 
too.  In  the  next  Place,  hear  him  attentively  and 
assiduously.  The  Genius  of  Learners  is  often  spoil'd 
by  too  much  Contention.  Assiduity  holds  out  the 
longer,  being  moderate,  and  by  daily  Augmentations 
grows  to  a  Heap  larger  than  can  be  thought.  There 
is  nothing  more  pernicious  than  to  be  glutted  with 
any  Thing ;  and  so  likewise  with  Learning.  And 
therefore  an  immoderate  pressing  on  to  Learning  is 
sometimes  to  be  relax'd ;  and  Divertisements  are  to 
be  intermix'd  :  But  then  they  should  be  such  as  are 
becoming  a  Gentleman,  and  Student,  and  not  much 
different  from  the  Studies  themselves.  Nay,  there 
ought  to  be  a  continual  Pleasure  in  the  very  midst 
of  Studies,  that  it  may  appear  to  us  rather  a  Pastime 
than  a  Labour ;  for  nothing  will  be  of  long  Duration, 
that  does  not  affect  the  Mind  of  the  Doer  with  some 
Sort  of  Pleasure.  It  is  the  utmost  Madness  to  learn 
that  which  must  be  unlearned  again.  Think  that  you 
ought  to  do  the  same  by  your  Genius,  that  Physicians 
are  wont  to  do  in  preserving  the  Stomach.  Take 
Care  that  you  don't  oppress  your  Genius  by  Food, 
that  is  either  noxious,  or  too  much  of  it ;  both  of 
them  are  equally  offensive.  Let  alone  Ebrardus,  Cath- 
olicon,  Brachylogus,  and  the  rest  of  these  Sort  of 
Authors,  all  whose  Names  I  neither  can  mention,  nor 
is  it  worth  while  so  to  do,  to  others  who  take  a  Pleasure 
to  learn  Barbarism  with  an  immense  Labour.  At  the 
first  it  is  no  great  Matter  how  much  you  Learn  ;  but 
how  well  you  learn  it.  And  now  take  a  Direction 
how  you  may  not  only  learn  well,  but  easily  too  ;  for 
the  right  Method  of  Art  qualifies  the  Artist  to  perform 
his  Work  not  only  "well  and  expeditiously,  but  easily 
too.  Divide  the  Day  into  Tasks,  as  we  read  Pliny 


Of  the  Method  of  Study  297 

the  Second,  and  Pope  Pius  the  Great  did,  Men  worthy 
to  be  remember'd  by  all  Men.  In  the  first  Part  of 
it,  which  is  the  chief  Thing  of  all,  hear  the  Master 
interpret,  not  only  attentively,  but  with  a  Sort  of 
Greediness,  not  being  content  to  follow  him  in  his 
Dissertations  with  a  slow  Pace,  but  striving  to  out-strip 
him  a  little.  Fix  all  his  Sayings  in  your  Memory,  and 
commit  the  most  material  of  them  to  Writing,  the 
faithful  Keeper  of  Words.  And  be  sure  to  take  Care 
not  to  rely  on  them,  as  that  ridiculous  rich  Man  that 
Seneca  speaks  of  did,  who  had  form'd  a  Noaon,  that 
whatsoever  of  Literature  any  of  his  Servants  had, 
was  his  own.  By  no  Means  have  your  Study  furnish'd 
with  learned  Books,  and  be  unlearned  yourself.  Don't 
suffer  what  you  hear  to  slip  out  of  your  Memory, 
but  recite  it  either  with  yourself,  or  to  other  Persons. 
Nor  let  this  suffice  you,  but  set  apart  some  certain 
Time  for  Meditation  ;  which  one  Thing  as  St.  Aurelius 
writes  does  most  notably  conduce  to  assist  both  WTit 
and  Memory.  An  Engagement  and  combating  of 
Wits  does  in  an  extraordinary  Manner  both  shew 
the  Strength  of  Genius's,  rouzes  them,  and  augments 
them.  If  you  are  in  Doubt  of  any  Thing,  don't  be 
asham'd  to  ask  ;  or  if  you  have  committed  an  Error, 
to  be  corrected.  Avoid  late  and  unseasonable  Studies, 
for  they  murder  Wit,  and  are  very  prejudicial  to 
Health.  The  Muses  love  the  Morning,  and  that  is 
a  fit  Time  for  Study.  After  you  have  din'd,  either 
divert  yourself  at  some  Exercise,  or  take  a  Walk, 
and  discourse  merrily,  and  Study  between  -  whiles. 
As  for  Diet,  eat  only  as  much  as  shall  be  sufficient 
to  preserve  Health,  and  not  as  much  or  more  than 
the  Appetite  may  crave.  Before  Supper,  take  a  little 
Walk,  and  do  the  same  after  Supper.  A  little  before 
you  go  to  sleep  read  something  that  is  exquisite,  and 
worth  remembring  ;  and  contemplate  upon  it  till  you 
fall  asleep  ;  and  when  you  awake  in  the  Morning, 


298  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

call  youself  to  an  Account  for  it.  Always  keep  this 
Sentence  of  Pliny's  in  your  Mind,  'All  that  Time  is 
lost  that  you  don't  bestow  on  Study.'  Think  upon 
this,  that  there  is  nothing  more  fleeting  than  Youth, 
which,  when  once  it  is  past,  can  never  be  recall'd. 
But  now  I  begin  to  be  an  Exhorter,  when  I  promis'd 
to  be  a  Director.  My  sweet  Christian,  follow  this 

Method,  or  a  better,  if  you  can  ;  and  so  farewell, 
grow. 

is   nothu.c 
any   Thing  , 
therefore  an 
sometimes  t 
be  internr 
becominr 
different 
ought  •' 
of  S< 

FINIS 


NOTES 

THE  FUNERAL 

1.  Trophonius  s  Cave.     Trophonius,  the  Boeotian  hero,  had  an 
oracular  cave  near  Lebadea.     The  entrance  was  so  narrow  that 
the  visitor  had  to  lie  on  his  back  with  his  feet  to  the  entrance  ;  he 
was  then  drawn  in  by  an  unseen  force.     He  made  his  exit  in  the 
same  manner,  pale  and  aghast.     Hence  the  Greek  proverb,  '  he 
has  visited  the  cave  of  Trophonius '  for  any  one  in  distress,  or 
melancholy  disorder. 

2.  Never  was  any  Man  so  nettled.     Lit. ,  '  You  would  say  you 
had  caught  a  cicada  by  the  wing,' — from  the  aggravation  of  his 
clamour.     A  Greek  proverb. 

3.  /  -will  make  a  better  Batchelor  than  you,  of  a  Bean-Stalk. 
The  practice  of  making  not  only  hats,  but  likewise  cloaks  from 
straw  is  indirectly  alluded  to.     On  the  other  hand  nothing  could 
be  woven  out  of  brittle  bean-stalks.     The  phrase  seems  to  have 
been  a  popular  proverbial  one. 

4.  St.  Martin  no  Bachelor.     This  famous  confessor,  bishop  of 
Tours  in  the  fourth  century,  was  originally  a  soldier,  his  father 
being  a  Roman  military   tribune.     Hence   Martin   is  sometimes 
called  the  soldier-saint. 

5.  Orders  of  Friars.     The    four    principal   orders  were  :    the 
Dominicans  (Black,  also  termed  Friars  major) ;  the  Franciscans 
(Grey,  termed  Friars  minor)  ;  the  Augustines  and  the  Carmelites 
(  White).     The  later  fifth  order  referred  to  was  that  of  the  Trini 
tarians—also  termed  Cruciferi,  from  the  Cross  embroidered  on 
their  dress.     Hence  the  corruption  Crutched  Friars. 

6.  The  Habit  of  a  Bcguin.     So  called   from   thcir  h«o<1-dress. 
Shakespeare,    Ben  Jonson,    etc.,    use    biggen   for    a   homely   old 
woman's  cap.     See  Richardson's  Dictionary.      There  is  a  large 
Beguinage  at  Ghent,  which  the  visitor  is  expected  to  'do'  as  one 
of  the  sights  of  the  city. 

7.  There 's  no  catching  old  Birds  with  Chaff.     Lit. ,  '  There 's  no 


3OO  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

catching  the  old  vixen  (she-fox)  in  a  net.'  Another  proverb  is, 
'There's  no  taking  the  fox  in  the  net  twice.'  'Once  bit,  twice 
shy.' 

8.  As  willingly  as  an  Ass  takes  his  Burden.     Horace  :   '  I  let 
down  my  ears  like  an  ill-tempered  ass,  when  the  burden  comes 
down  somewhat  heavily  on  his  back.'     Ser.  i.  9,  20. 

9.  Purest  Marble,     Lit.,  '  Parian  Marble.' 

10.  Onocrotalus.     A  pelican.     The   description  appears  to  be 
satirical:  '  boars  heads  Orm.  a  Field  Argent'  placing  one  metal 
upon  another,  would  be  vicious  heraldry. 

11.  A   Chim&ra.      Original,    '  chimeroe.'      An   allusion  to  the 
Homeric   description   of  the    monster,     'lion    in    front,    serpent 
behind,  goat  in  the  middle,'  //.  vi.  179.     -xlfj-aipa  means  originally 
a  she-goat.     Cicero  terms  a  letter  the  substance  of  which  does  not 
hang  well  together,  a  chimcera. 

12.  They    had   both    of  them  their  Pipes  open.      An    elegant 
paraphrase  of  the  original  pulcre  vocalis,  '  finely  vocal ! ' 

13.  The  ringing  of  Bells.     There  is  much  of  antiquarian  interest 
in  campanology.     Bells  seem  to  have  originated  about  the  seventh 
century.     It  is  difficult  to  say  how  the  notion  of  the  efficacy  of 
the  bell  in  driving  away  evil  spirits,  pestilences,  etc. ,  arose.     The 
passing  or  soul-bell  rung  when  a  person  was  in  extremis,  seems  to 
have  had  a  religious  purpose,  distinct  from  that  of  giving  intima 
tion  to  friends  and  calling  for  prayer  on  behalf  of  the  departing 
one.     There  is  an  old  distich  on  the  church-bell : — 

Funera  plango,  fulgura.fr ango,  sabbata  pango, 
Excito  lentos,  dissipo  ventos,  paco  cruentos. 

Death's  tale  I  tell,  the  winds  dispel,  ill-feeling  quell, 

The  slothful  shake,  the  storm-clouds  break,  the  Sabbath  wake. 

Brewer's  Dictionary  of  Phrase  and  Fable. 

On  the  preceding  Colloquy  Erasmus'  remarks  in  explanation  and 
defence  should  be  read.  The  form  of  vanity  which  he  here 
satirizes  appears  not  to  have  been  uncommon  in  his  times  ;  it  was 
probably  a  survival  from  Roman  habits.  The  tomb  of  Hadrian, 
that  of  Cecilia  Inetella,  etc.,  are  monuments  of  this  singular 
p'ssiorfor  pomp  and  show  after  death.  Montaigne,  living  some 
what  later  than  Erasmus,  speaks  with  peculiar  displeasure  of  the 
'  persevering  vanity '  of  a  relative  of  his  who,  tormented  during  his 
last  hours  by  the  stone,  amused  himself  by  giving,  with  intense 
anxiety,  directions  concerning  the  ceremonies  of  his  interment. 
Essais,  liv.  i.  chap.  iii.  We  may  remind  the  reader  here  of  Mr. 


Notes  301 

Robert  Browning's  fine  piece,  '  The  Bishop  orders  his  Tomb  in 
St.  Praxed's  church.' 


THE  UNEQUAL  FEAST 

1.  Ho\v8aiTia.     Not  a  classical  Greek  word.     It  is  used  here  to 
express  the   idea   of   'Variety   in   entertainments.'      Dispar  con- 
vivitun  is  used  as  an  equivalent  Latin  title  of  the  Colloquy  :   '  un 
equal  feast '  is  hardly  a  translation  of  this.    '  Diverse  entertainment,' 
according  to  the  character  of  the  guests,  etc.,  is  meant. 

2.  Bedlam   rather  than   a   Banquet.       '  Convicium,   non   Con- 
vivium,'  original.      Perhaps   it   is   hardly  necessary   to  say   that 
Bedlam  is  a  corruption  of  Bethlehem,  the  lunatic  asylum,  formerly 
a  religious  house,  in  London. 

3.  /  have  read  in  Horace  that  they  ought  not  to  exceed  five.     '  Ne 
sit  quinto  productior  actu.'     'The  play  is  not  to  exceed  five  acts.' 
Ars  Poetica,  or  Ad  Pisones,  189. 

4.  The  old  Proverb,  A  hearty  Welcome  is  the  best  Cheer.     Lit., 
'  Before  all  things  they  brought  cheerful  faces.'     Anteomnia  vultus 
accessere  boni.     Shakespeare  :    '  Small   cheer  and  great  welcome 
make  a  merry  feast.' 

5.  When  you  perceive  any  di spas' d  to  be  quarrelsome.     Lit., 
'  When  you  perceive  TTJV  dowov  fJ.edriv,  the  itiineless  drunkenness 
arising  '  :  a  very  expressive  phrase.     Plut.  ii.  716  A. 

6.  A   Wife  fighting  with  the  Husband  for  the  Breeches.     Lit. , 
'  for   the   mastery,'   simply.      The  phrase  about  the  breeches  is 
common  to  French,  Dutch,  and  German  popular  speech,  with  our 
own. 

7.  Ideots.     The  spelling  with  the  e  \vas  formerly  the  current  one 
in  English.     We  still  retain  e  as  representing  the  Greek  t  in  diph 
thongs,  as  phaenomenon,  etc.     The  signification  of  the  word  has 
departed   by  gradual   changes   widely  from   the   original.      The 
Greek  senses  of  i'5iwT?;s  were  (i)  a  private  person;  (2)  a  layman, 
an   unprofessional    person  ;    (3)    an    unskilled,    ignorant    person 
generally  ;    (4)   a  bungler  or  blockhead.     In   the  sense  of   one 
naturally  deficient  in  reason,  idiot  is  a  modern  word.     Our  jeer 
ing  usage  of  the  term  is  really  correct  and  classical. 

8.  A  good  Alaxim  in  Life,  Too  much  of  one  Thing  is  good  for 
Nothing.      The    famous    adage,    Ne    quid    nimis,    /Jirjdtv   &yav, 
'nothing  too  much. '     It  truly  expresses  the  fine  classic  sense  of 
measure  and  harmony.     We  may  recall  Horace's  '  Est  modus  in 


302  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

rebus ' ;  and  his  censure  of  the  quest  even  of  virtue,  '  ultra  quam 
satis  est.'  Ser.  i.  i,  106  ;  Ep.  i.  6,  15. 

OF  THINGS  AND  WORDS 

1.  Beatus  and  Boniface.      The   original  meaning  of  beatus  is 
happy,  prosperous ;  hence  by  a  common  association  of  ideas  it  was 
often  used  for  wealthy,  as  in  our  text. 

The  theme  of  this  Colloquy  is  one  of  profound  philosophical 
interest :  the  slavery  of  the  human  mind  to  language.  South,  in 
his  powerful  sermons  on  the  Fatal  Force  and  Imposture  of  Words, 
has  chastised  this  folly  with  a  more  burning  scourge  than 
Erasmus.  The  importance  of  the  subject  cannot  have  escaped 
the  attention  of  any  of  the  great  thinkers.  We  may  recall  the 
Platonic  exposure  of  Rhetoric  in  the  Gorgias  ;  Montaigne's  short 
chapter,  De  la  Vanitt  des  Paroles,  etc. 

2.  A  Face  as  ugly  as  the  Devil.     '  Prodigiosa  facies, '  '  a  mon 
strosity  of  a  face,'  in  original.     Cornelius  seems  to  be  cited  as  an 
ugly  name,  as  if  derived  from  cornu,  a  horn. 

3.  A  greater  Fool  than  Ben  of  the  Minories.     '  Than  Coroebus ' 
according  to  original.     He  is  mentioned  in  Lucian's  dialogues  as 
a  typical  fool.      Who  '  Ben  of  the  Minories '  was,   and  how  he 
obtained  his  eminence,  I  cannot  say. 

4.  Allay.      The    old   spelling   of    alloy.      From  Ang'o-Saxon 
lecgan,  alecgan,  to  lay,  lay  down  ;  hence  soothe,  mitigate,  temper. 
In  early  English  we  find  the  form  alegga  ;  compare  Ger.  legieren  ; 
Fr.  alUger  ;  It.  alkgare. 

5.  Right  of  the  Lord  of  the  Manor  to  whatsoever  is  cast  ashore 
from  a  Shipwreck.     In  original  this  right  is  said  to  belong  to  the 

'  prasfecti  maris,'  the  'prefects  of  the  sea.'  In  English  law, 
wrecks,  under  certain  conditions,  are  a  part  of  the  royal  revenue  ; 
but  this  privilege  was  frequently  granted  to  lords  of  the  manor  as 
a  royal  franchise.  Flotsam,  jetsam,  and  ligan, — or  goods  remain 
ing  in  the  sea, — are  likewise  parts  of  the  royal  revenue.  Black- 
stone. 

6.  The  Wooden  Horse.     '  Equuleus,' original.     A  Roman  instru 
ment  of  torture,  made  in  the  shape  of  a  horse. 

CHARON 

i.  Genius  Alastor.  In  the  Greek  mythology  'A\d<rTcop  was  the 
avenging  divinity.  In  the  Christian  demonology  of  the  middle 
ages,  Alastor  was  the  executioner  at  the  court  of  Beelzebub, 


Notes  303 

emperor  of  the  demons  ;  of  whom  there  was  a  regular  organised 
commonwealth.  Johannes  Wierus  (sixteenth  century)  gives  an 
elaborate  account  of  it  in  his  Pseudomonarchia  Dcsmonum. 

2.  One  Polygraphus  .  .  .  He  once  wrote  a  sort  of  Hue  and  Cry 
after  Peace,  etc.     Polygraphus,  the  '  Scribbler,'  is  Erasmus  himself, 
and  the  piece  referred  to  is  his  Pads  Qucrimonia,  or  Complaint  of 
Peace,  printed  by  Froben,  1516,  a  beautiful  composition. 

3.  Love  of  War  stirred  up  by  the  Friars.     Erasmus  here  refers 
to  a  fact   that   is   not  without   importance   to   die   philosophical 
student   of   history.      Clerical  influence  in    the  Catholic   church 
appears  still,  as  in  the  middle  ages,  to  foster  war.     The  warlike 
atmosphere  is  probably  more  congenial  to  the  instincts,  and  better 
favours  the  aims  of  the  order  than  that  of  peace.     On  the  general 
causes  of  the  cessation   of  the   chronic  state  of  warfare  in   the 
Middle  Ages,  see  Buckle,  vol.  i.  p.  190  sq. 

4.  Had  as  good  keep  his  Breath  to  cool  his  Porridge.     For  '  he 
washes  a  brick,'  laterem  lavat,  Ter.  Ph.  i.  4,  9.     He  labours  in 
vain. 

THE  ASSEMBLY  OF  GRAMMARIANS 

1.  Cacatile  Beast.     A  coined  adjective  from  caco,  to  perform  a 
necessary  natural  office.     Erse  :  each,  cacach  ;  whence  probably  a 
nurse's  exclamation,  indicating  an  object  of  disgust  to  children. 

2.  Cyprian  Cows.     A  Greek  metaphor  for  a  coarse  and  brutish 
person,  because  Cyprian  oxen  were  supposed  to  feed  on  human 
excrement. 

3.  The  old  Proverb,  So  many  Men,  so  many  Minds. 

'Quot  homines,  tot  sententiae.' — Terence. 
'  Suus  cuique  mos  est.' — Ibid. 
'  Mille  hominum  species,  et  rerum  discolor  usus: 
Velle  suum  cuique  est,  nee  voto  vivitur  uno.' — Persius. 

4.  Maria's  Noblemen.     Moria,  Greek  Mwpt'a,  folly. 

THE  UNEQUAL  MARRIAGE 

1.  Unequal  Marriage.     Dispar,  here  in  the  sense  of  ill-assorted. 

2.  Trophonius's  Cave.     See  above,  p.  299. 

3.  A   Goddess  that  the  Greeks  call  Psora,     Sl>ujpa  (from   ^du), 
scabies,  the  disease  called  scab,  or  itch. 

4.  The  Mange  .  .  .  has  a  great  many  Names,     e.g.,  '  French, 
Neapolitan  disease, — Spanish  scab.' 


304  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 


5.  Tetters.      Some    species    of    cutaneous   eruption,    probably 
measles. 

'  those  measles 
Which  we  disdain  should  tetter  us.' 

Shakespeare,  Corlolanus,  iii.  i. 

6.  If  she  had  scatter' d  her  Water  upon  the  Grave  of  her  Parents, 
etc, 

Minxit  in  patrios  cineres.  — Hor. 

In  paganism  a  parent's  grave  was  regarded  with  the  most  religious 
veneration  ;  it  was  both  crime  and  calamity  to  desolate  it. 

7.  Throw  her  into  the  Thames.     '  Into   the  Scheldt  (Scalda),' 
original. 

8.  Seven  liberal  Sciences  taught  in  the  Schools.     On  the  trivium 
and    quadrimum    of   the  middle-age    universities,    see    vol.    ii. 
p.  320. 

9.  Every  Boar  to  brim  his  Sow.     Old  Norse :    brimi,  flame, 
Anglo-Saxon  :  bremman,  to  be  hot,  on  flame  with  passion. 

'  I  see  the  bull  doth  bull  the  cow  ; 
And  shall  I  live  a  maiden  still  ? 
I  see  the  boar  doth  brim  the  sow  ; 
And  yet  there  's  never  a  Jack  for  Gill.' 

Percy's  Loose  and  Humorous  Songs, 

10.  Reprisals,  or  Letters  of  Mark.     '  These  letters  were  grant- 
able  by  the  law  of  nations,  whenever  the  subjects  of  one  state  were 
•oppressed  and  injured  by  those  of  another  ;  and  justice  is  denied 
by  that  state  to  which  the  oppressor  belongs.     In  this  case  letters 
of  marque  and  reprisals  (words  used  as  synonymous,  and  signi 
fying,  the  latter,  a  taking  in  return,  the  former,  the  passing  the 

frontiers  in  order  to  such  taking)  may  be  obtained  in  order  to 
seize  the  bodies  or  goods  of  the  subjects  of  the  offending  state, 
until  satisfaction  be  made,  where  they  happen  to  be  found.'  The 
practice  has  long  been  disused.  Commissions  granted  in  time  of 
war  for  privateers  are  termed  letters  of  marque.  See  Kerr's 
Blackstone  :  '  The  Royal  Prerogative.'  Blackstoneis  clearly  wrong 
in  his  derivation  of  marque ;  he  is  no  authority  in  etymology. 
Another  writer  derives  it  from  market,  because  the  holders  of  these 
letters  may  sell  or  bring  to  market  the  spoil  they  might  take  ! — 
wide  of  the  mark,  indeed !  Surely  the  meaning  of  '  letters  of 
marque '  is  letters  with  the  king's  seal :  it  being  a  branch  of  the 
royal  prerogative  to  grant  them.  Analogous  is  mark,  the  coin 
formerly  in  use,  bearing  the  royal  sign.  So  again  the  French 
lettre  de  cachet,  a  folded  letter  with  the  king's  seal. 


Notes  305 

ii.  Let  there  be  an  Act  of  Parliament,  that  the  same  Person 
shan't  be  a  Barber  and  a  Surgeon  too.  The  wide  separation  of 
these  two  callings,  formerly  united,  is  a  very  suggestive  fact  in 
relation  to  modern  progress.  The  emblem  of  the  pole  with  the 
twisted  ribbons  painted  on  it  remains.  There  still  exists  the 
Barber-Surgeons'  Company  in  London,  with  their  Hall  in  Monk- 
well  Street.  Barbers  in  Germany  still  perform  simple  surgical 
operations. 

THE  IMPOSTURE 

i.  Sotadic.  From  Sotades,  an  Alexandrian  poet,  c.  280  B.C.  A 
Sotadic  verse  is  one  which  reads  the  same,  taking  the  letters 
backward  or  forward  : — 

'  Signa  te,  signa  ;  teinere  me  tangis  ct  angis  : 
Roma  tibi  siibito  motitus  Hut  amor,' 

The  author  of  the  above  distich  is  said  to  have  been  no  less  a 
personage  than  the  Prince  of  Darkness.  If  so,  he  may  be  a 
'  gentleman  '  ( Shakesp. )  but  hardly  a  scholar.  The  story  runs  that 
jolly  St.  Martin,  on  his  way  to  Rome  on  foot  was  taunted  by  the 
devil  on  his  poor  means  of  conveyance  ;  whereupon  the  bishop 
turned  him  into  a  mule,  mounted,  and  urged  him  on  by  making 
the  sign  of  the  Cross.  The  baffled  spirit  cried  out  as  above, 
the  sense  being  interpreted  as  follows :  '  Cross,  cross,  thyself : 
unreasonably  dost  thou  lay  hands  on  me  and  vex  me ;  soon  by 
my  exertions  shalt  thou  reach  Rome,  the  object  of  thy  desire.' 
Another  example  of  sotadics  or  palindromes  is  : 

'  llewd  I  did  live,  and  evil  I  did  dwell.' 
(11  being  old  spelling  for  L). 

THE  GOSPEL  CARRIER 

i.  Cyclops,  or  the  Gospel-Carrier.  With-  reference  to  this 
Colloquy,  the  following,  from  a  letter  of  Erasmus  to  CEcolampa- 
dius,  dated  i5th  July,  1529,  will  be  read  with  interest : — 'Jerome 
Froben  told  me  to-day  that  there  are  those  who  entertain  some 
strange  sinister  suspicion  concerning  my  feeling  towards  you, 
on  the  ground  that  I  have  affronted  you  in  my  writings ;  and 
also  that  I  lately  turned  aside  from  my  road,  to  avoid  greeting 
you.  Know,  that  both  these  allegations  are  the  idlest  of  dreams. 
I  have  not  written  a  single  letter  by  which  I  meant  to  hurt  you, 
or  in  writing  which  I  was  thinking  about  you.  When  the 
VOL.  III.  U 


306  Colloquies  of  Erasmtis 

Colloquy  Cyclops  was  being  printed,  some  at  Froben's  works  sus 
pected,  because  mention  is  made  of  a  "sheep's  head,"  a  "fox's 
heart,"  and  a  "long  nose,"  that  you  were  intended  ;  whereas  the 
fact  is,  this  fun  was  poked  at  Nicolaus  Cannius,  my  servant,  who 
was  ambitious  of  being  celebrated  in  the  Colloquies.  He  wears 
a  cap  of  that  kind,  and  has  a  long  nose,  and  is  of  swarthy  com 
plexion  and  black  hair.  That  you  wore  a  similar  cap  I  never 
heard,  unless  on  this  occasion.  I  am  not  so  foolish,  as  to  break 
such  jests  upon  learned  men.  Polyphemus,  too,  begged  to  be 
celebrated  :  who  was  in  the  habit  of  carrying  about  a  richly 
ornamented  copy  of  the  Gospel,  while  there  was  nothing  fouler 
than  his  life.  So  the  matter  stands  as  to  my  writings.  As  to  the 
other  charge,  I  am  in  the  habit  of  going  nearly  always  that  way 
to  Froben's  garden,  when  the  weather  is  pretty  fair,  because  the 
other  way  is  somewhat  close  and  stinks.  Therefore,  had  no  one 
been  by,  I  should  still  have  gone  that  way.  Nor  did  I  then  know 
that  you  were  over-against  me,  but  my  servant  told  me  ;  and  I 
should  thereupon  have  turned  back  to  you,  had  there  not  been 
many  persons  present  unknown  to  me,  and  I  did  not  wish  to  dis 
turb  their  company.  I  said  so  to  my  servant  at  the  time.'  This 
occurred  at  Basle,  where  GEcolampadius  resided. 

2.  Lady  of  the  Wood.     '  Hamadryad,' original. 

3.  70X77  KpoKtiirbv.     Lit. ,  '  a  weasel  in  a  saffron-robe  ' ;   which 
was  worn  by  '  fast '  ladies  at  Athens.     Aristophanes. 

4.  /  nubblcd  him  so  well  favouredly  with  my  right,  that  you  could 
see  no  Eyes  he  had  for  the  Swellings.      Lit.,    'with  my  right  I 
fisticuffed  him,  beat  him  black  and  blue  in  fine  style,  and  turned 
his   whole  face  into  a  lump.'      This   was    '  proving   his  doctrine 
orthodox  by  apostolic  blows  and  knocks.'     Nubble  seems  to  be  the 
same  as  nobble,  a  North-country  word  for  pelt,  as  with  stones. 

5.  /  ^uish  you  may  be  what  you  are  calUd.     i.e.  Polyphemus,  in 
the  sense  of  famous,  the  original  meaning  being  many-voiced. 

CROSS  PURPOSES 

1.  'ATrpotroiovvira..     This  title  is  derived  from  the  Greek  proverb 
for  irrelevancy  :  ovdev  wpbs  &.IQVVO-OV,  '  It 's  nothing  to  Bacchus.' 

2.  Halcyon  days.     The  king-fisher  (aXuvuv),  supposed  by  the 
Greeks  to  incubate  during  fourteen  days  before  the  winter  solstice 
on  the  surface   of  the  sea,   when   it   was  perfectly  still.      Some 
aspirate   the  word   (a\Kvd>v)  deriving  it  from  dXs  and  KI/W  ;   the 
'  sea-brooder. ' 


Notes  307 

3.  St.  Nicholas.  The  patron  of  thieves,  often  called  '  Clerks 
or  Knights  of  St.  Nicholas.'  But  here  his  office  of  protector  of 
sailors  is  referred  to.  There  are  many  churches  in  sea-port  towns 
dedicated  to  him.  He  took  the  place  of  Neptune  in  the  Catholic 
transformation  of  Paganism.  See  Horace,  Od.  i.  5. 

'  Me  in  my  vow'd 

Picture  the  sacred  wall  declares  to  have  hung 
My  dank  and  dropping  weeds 
To  the  stern  god  of  sea.' 

Milton's  version. 

THE  FALSE  KNIGHT 

1.  A  Dog  s  Head -with  bangle  Ears.    '  Demissis  auribus,'  '  droop 
ing  ears,'  original. 

2.  Turn  every  Stone.     Lit.,  '  Let  every  die  be  cast.' 

3.  Servants  that  have  no  Hands;  they  will  be  unprofitable.     A 
play  on  the  Greek  dxfipovs  and  axpfiovs,    'without  hands,'  and 
'  useless.' 

4.  The  Sea  hides  all  Mischief.     '  All  the  ills  of  men,'  according 
to  the  original, — a  Greek  proverb.  .  There  was  a  notion  that  one 
bitten  by  a  mad  dog  could  be  cured  by  being  dipped  nine  times 
in  the  sea,  etc. 

THE  PLAY  OF  COCK-ALL 

1.  'AffTpaya\ur/j.6s.     From  dor/DcryaXos,  Latin  Talus, — the  ball 
of  the  ankle-joint,  used  by  Greeks  and  Roman  as  a  die.     Cock- 
All,  or  cockal  appears  to  be  the  same  as  the  German  kugel,  a 
ball. 

2.  Talarian  Garment.     Talus  is  used  in  Latin  for  the  ankle, 
the  heel,  the  foot  generally.     The  quibbling  on  the  word  in  the 
text  seems  devoid  of  wit.     'Thus  Horace  writes' :  Ep.  ii.  i,  176. 

3.  Poets  .  .  .  give  ears  to  Tmolus.     Tmolus  was  a  mountain  in 
Lydia.     To  the  god  identified  or  associated  with  the  mountain 
was  ascribed  the  decision  of  the  musical  contest  between  Apollo 
and  Pan. 

4  'AffTpdya\os,  derived  of  crrptQu.  A  specimen  of  the  clumsy 
attempts  at  derivation  before  the  subject  was  understood.  I  am 
not  aware  that  the  etymology  of  the  word  has  yet  been  traced. 

5.  Those  who  are  curious  concerning  the  details  of  the  game 
here  discussed  may  consult  Eustathius,   Od.  i.   p.    1397,   34  sq.  ; 


308  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

Smith's  Diet.  Ant.,  art.  'Talus.'     In  English  the  name  is  huckle- 
bones. 

6.  Don't  reckon  your  Chickens  before  they  be  hatch' d.     '  Don't 
sing  the  encomium  before  the  victory.'     See  vol.  i.  p.  292. 

THE  PARLIAMENT  OF  WOMEN 

1.  Heliogcibalus  .  .  .  had  the    Pictures  of  Moses   and   Christ 
hanging  up  in  his  private  Chapel.     That  is,  in  his  lararium,  or 
shrine  of  the  lares  or  household  gods.     See  vol.  i.  p.  303. 

2.  Fumblers  for  their  Husbands.     '  Eunuchs,' original. 

THE  EARLY  RISING 

1.  Diluculum.    Nephalius.    Philypnus.    Day-break.     The  sober 
man.     The  sleep-lover. 

2.  The  old  Proverb,  I  don't  sleep  to  all.     See  vol.  i.  p.  289. 

3.  That  of  Hesiod,  '  Tis  too  late  to  spare  when  all  is  spent.     '  Sera 
in  fundo  parsimonia,'  original.     '  'Tis  too  late  to  save  when  you 
are  at  the  bottom  of  the  chest.' 

4.  Pliny  says,  All  Life  is  one  continued  Watching,  etc.     See  his 
preface  to  Vespasian,  Nat.  Hist. 

5.  Sleep  call 'd  by  Homer,  the  Cousin-German  of  Death.     '  Ger- 
manus,'    original.      Homer    represents    sleep    as    Twin-brother 
of  Death,   77.   xiv.   231,  xvi.  672,  682.     The  epithet  germanus  is 
derived  from  the  root  GEN,  and  denotes  that  which  is  genuine, 
hence  applied  in  Latin  \.Q  full  brothers  •xdA  sisters,  having  the  same 
parents,  or  at  least  the  same  father. 

6.  Frugality  is  a  handsome  Income.     From  Cicero,  Parad.  vi. 
3,  49  :   '  Magnum  vectigal  est  parsimonia.' 

7.  Agamemnon,  in  Homer,  tells  us,  'Tis  unbecoming  a  Man  of 
Counsel  to  sleep  the  whole  Night.     II.  ii.  24. 

THE  NOTABLE  ART 

1.  The  Notable  Art.     Hardly  a  correct  rendering  of  ars  notoria. 
Notoria    is  in    Latin    a    noun,    signifying    notice,    information. 
Erasmus  uses  it  as  an  adjective  :   '  the  informing  art,' 

2.  Words,  as  Homer  says,  have   Wings,  and  easily  fly  away. 
Mr.  Gladstone  has  suggested  that  the  point  of  this  phrase,  £?rea 
TTTep6efra,  '  winged  words,'  lies  in  the  fact  that  they  are  conceived 
by  the  poet  under  the  image  of  arrows,  shot  at  a  definite  mark  ; 


Notes  309 

just  as  the  Homeric  exclamation,  '  What  a  word  is  this  that  hath 
escaped  the  fence  of  thy  teeth ! '  expresses  the  idea  of  vain  and 
thoughtless  speech. 

THE  SERMON 

1.  Merdardus.      This   elegant  pseudonym  for   the   Franciscan 
(referred  to  also  in  a  preceding  Colloquy)  who  made  it  his  busi 
ness  to  attack  Erasmus  and  his  teachings  ;  from  merda,  dung. 

2.  The  Performance,  -which  is  to  be  called  so  (i.e.  holy)  in  the 
sense  in  which  Virgil  calls  Avarice  so.     The  word  is  sacra,  and  the 
allusion  to  Virgil's  phrase,  '  auri  sacra  fames '  (Aen.  iii.  57),  where 
sacra  bears  the  sense  of  accursed. 

3.  Billingsgate  Parsons.      '  Rabulce,'  original.     An  infrequent 
word  ;    used    by   Cicero   as   a   term    of  contempt   for  a  ranting 
advocate.     The  common  usage  of  the  expression   '  Billingsgate ' 
refers,  of  course,  to  the  clamour  and  coarseness  of  the  market.     So 
again  :  '  to  scold  like  a  fishwife.'     The  French  allude  to  the  '  Place 
Maubert '  in  the  same  way. 

4.  St.  Francis  and  the  Sisterhood  of  little  Birds.     This  was,  of 
course,  he  of  Assisi,  died  1226.     (St.  Francis  of  Sales  died  1622.) 
This  '  gentle  and  holy '  and  truly  poetic  soul  had  a  most  intense 
sympathy  for  all  Nature.     Not  only  the  little  birds,  but  Sun  and 
Moon,  Wind  and  Water,  were  his  '  brothers  '  and  '  Sisters. '    Dean 
Milman  says  that  the  only  curse  he  can  find  to  have  proceeded 
from  his  lips  was  when  a  fierce  swine  killed  a  lamb.     Lambs  and 
larks  were  his  especial  pets,  as  symbols  of  the  Saviour  and  of  the 
cherubim. 

5.  No  strange  Thing  for  a  Nettle  to  grow  in  a  Rose-Bed.     Why 
nettle?    The  original  is  cynorhodum,  '  dog-rose,'  which  is  apt. 

6.  A  hopper  Arse.     'Gladiatorial  flanks,'  original.     The  above 
English   vulgarism   appears   to   be  descriptive  of  the  waddling, 
rocking  movement  of  fat  persons,  and  to  be  from  the  same  root 
with  hopple,  hobble. 

7.  Master  of  the  Science.     'Athlete,' original. 

8.  Proverb  of  the  Brothers.     He  seems  to  mean  that  in  calling 
Erasmus  an  Ass  he  takes  him  for  his  brother. 

9.  Humility.      Its   signification.      The   word   is   derived  from 
humus,  ground.     Humi  repentes,  'creeping  on  the  ground,' 

10.  The  Lesbian  Rule.     A  phrase  used  by  Aristotle.     When  an 
action  is  not  squared  to  reason,  but  reason  is  acommodated  to  the 


3 1  o  Colloqu  ies  of  Erasm  us 

action,  when  the  law  conforms  to  manners,  instead  of  manners 
being  corrected  by  the  laws,  etc. 

11.  The  Bishop's  Thunderbolts,  Si  quis  instigante  Diabolo,  etc. 
Alluding  to  the  opening  words  of  a  canonical  decree,  '  If  any  at 
the  instigation  of  the  Devil,  etc.,'  threatening  excommunication 
against  any  who  should  lay  hands  on  a  priest. 

12.  The  saying  of   Pope    Alexander    vi.      Quoted    again    at 
p.  214. 

THE  LOVER  OF  GLORY 

1.  Philodoxus.     Symbulus.     '  Lover  of  Glory. '     'Counsellor.' 

2.  The  Flight  of  a  TJwusand  Night-Owls.     See  vol.  i.  p.  290. 

3.  He  is  a  God  that  helps  a  Man.     Alluding  to  the  Greek  adage, 
av&pwiros  avdpuTrov  Sai/jLoviov,  '  man  the  divinity  of  man  '  :  applied 
to  sudden  and  unexpected   help  in  an  emergency.     So  Horace 
amusingly  commemorates  his  deliverance  from  a  bore :  '  sic  me 
servavit  Apollo.'     Set:  i.  9,  78.     Hence,  'godsend.' 

4.  That  saying  of  Theocritus,  etc.     A  mistake  for  Theognus,  26, 

5.  Pascitur  in  vivis  livor,  post  fata  quiescit,     Ovid,  A  mores,  i. 
15.  39- 

6.  Against  the   Grain   and  the  consent  of  his   Genius.      Lit., 
'  Minerva  being  unwilling  and  his  Genius  angry.' 

7.  As  the  witty  Po£t  Horace  intimates,  saying,  Crescit  occulto 
•velut  arbor  CBVO  fama  Marcelli.     Od.  i.  12,  45. 

8.  Virtue  is  conversant  in  Difficulties,  as  old  Hesiod  taught 
before  the  Peripatetics.     See  Hesiod's   Works  and  Days,  286, — a 
striking  passage,  recalling  similar  imagery  in  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount : — 

'  Evil  is  manifold  and  quickly  reached  ; 
Smooth  is  the  road  thereto,  and  nigh  the  way  ; 
But  the  high  gods  do  make  us  sweat  for  Good  ; 
Strait  is  the  gate  to  that,  and  long  the  road, 
And  steep  at  first — but  when  the  top  is  won, 
All  then  is  easy  that  was  hard  before.' 

E.  Arnold's  translation. 

9.  The  Advice  which  the  Fidler  gave  his  Fellow.     In  the  original 
the  word  is  tibicen,  the  piper.     They  must  have  been  an  important 
class  in  ancient  life,   like  the  harpers  and  pipers  of  the  feudal 
times. 

10.  Greek  Fire.     The  discovery  of  the  properties   of   this  in- 


Notes  3 1 1 

flammable  oil  is  ascribed  to  Callinicus  of  Heliopolis.  Constanti 
nople  owed  its  successful  defence  in  the  first  two  sieges  of  the 
seventh  and  eighth  centuries  by  the  Saracens,  to  the  use  of  the 
Greek  fire.  The  secret  remained  with  the  Roman  empire  for  400 
years — the  Saracens  then  came  into  possession  of  it,  and  continued 
its  use,  until  it  was  superseded  by  gunpowder  in  the  fourteenth 
century.  See  Gibbon. 


THE  WEALTHY  MISER 

1.  A  mere  Skeleton.     '  Syphar  hominis,'  a  mere  skin  of  a  man. 
Greek  <rv<f>ap,  an  old  wrinkled  skin,  the  slough  of  a  serpent,  etc. 

2.  Synodium.     The  name  taken  from  the  Greek  crwodos,  synod, 
which  means  generally  a  meeting  ;  crwoSla,  synodia,  companion 
ship,  society. 

3.  Antronius.      As  a  name  of  contempt.     See  vol.  ii.  p.  323. 

4.  Hunks.     Said   to   be   derived  from   the   Icelandic   hunskur, 
sordid.     Richardson.     More  probably  a  contraction  of  the  Teutonic 
word,    hiike,    hiiker,    German  ;    hugkner,    Bavarian  ;     huckster, 
higgler,  English. 

5.  The  famous  Painter  thought  that  Day  was  lost,  wherein  he 
did  not  employ  his  Pencil.     Apelles.     Whence  the  celebrated  pro 
verb,  Nulla  dies  sine  lined,  not  a  day  without  a  line  ;  adopted  by 
Luther  as  a  motto  when  translating  the  New  Testament. 

6.  The  Devil  a  Barrel,  the  better  Herring.     Lit.,  '  Like  lips  have 
like  lettuces.1 

7.  The  Mess  .  .  .  that  Melchisedek  offer' d  to  Abraham.     Viz., 
'bread  and  wine,'  Gen.  xiv.  18. 

8.  German  meals.      '  Beaver '   for  merenda,  luncheon.      Latin 
bibo,  Italian  bevere,  to  drink.     The  front  part  of  the  helmet,  lifted 
up  to  enable  the  wearer  to  drink,  was  hence  called  beaver.     In  the 
sense  of  the  text  bever  is  a  provincialism  for  a  drink  in  the  harvest- 
field. 

THE  SERAPHICK  FUNERAL 

i.  The  Seraphick  Fune ral.  St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  founder  of  the 
order  of  Franciscans,  was  termed  the  Seraphic  Saint,  and  the 
name  was  transferred  to  his  followers.  It  implies  zeal  and 
ardour,  in  allusion  to  the  association  of  the  seraphs  with  fire. 
Isa.  vi. 


312  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

2.  A  Snake  will  not  come  near  the  Shadow  of  an  Ash.     Like  the 
rest  of  Erasmus'  natural  history,  taken  from  Pliny,  xvi.  13. 

3.  Pope  Benedict.     This  must  have  been  Benedict  xn.,  1334 — 
1342. 

4.  The  Slashes  in  the  Shoes  shew  tfie  naked  Foot,  and  so  fulfil  the 
Rule  by  Synecdoche.     Synecdoche  is  the  rhetorical  figure  by  which 
a  part  is  put  for  the  whole,  or  the  whole  for  a  part.     Quintilian 
Inst.,  viii.  6,  19. 

5.  That  celebrated  saying  of  Pope    Alexander,    '  Tis   safer   to 
affront  the  most  powerful  Prince,  than  any  one  single  Franciscan 
or  Dominican.     Alexander  VI.    (Rodcric   Borgia)   died  1503,  the 
infamous  father  of  an  infamous  family.     See  above,  p.  163. 

FRIENDSHIP 

1.  The  Apologist  concerning  a  Crab-fish,  etc.     A  mistranslation 
of  apologus,  an  apologue,  or  fable.     One  ascribed  to  /Esop. 

2.  The  stpries  about  elephants,  etc. ,  are  from  Pliny,  Nat.  Hist. , 
book  viii.     It  was  not   thirty  'Persons'  according  to  Pliny,  but 
thirty  Elephants  which  the  king  desired  to  torture.     The  original 
is  somewhat  ambiguous,  '  triginta  quosdam.' 

3.  A  Proverb,  I'll  give  you  no  more  Quarter  than  a  Dog  does  to 
a  Wolf.     Lit.,  '  We  will  spare  them  no  more  than  wolves,'  Aristo 
phanes.     Rewards  were  offered  in  Attica  and  elsewhere  for  the 
destruction  of  them. 

4.  Custom  in  England  of  strewing  the  Floor  with  green  Rushes. 
Erasmus  describes  in  one  of  his  letters  the  filthy  and  unhealthy 
condition  of  English  houses  in  consequence  of  this  custom.     See 
Brand's  Popular  Antiquities,  ii.  13. 

5.  Demecritical  Stories.     Democritus  the  great  philosopher  of 
Abdera,  about  460  B.C.,  generally  called  the  laughing  philosopher, 
from   his  satirical   habit.      His   contemporaries   appear  to  have 
returned  his  scorn  upon  himself  and  his  speculations. 

6.  Catullus's  epigram  on  Volusius.     This  is  a  mistake— a  rare 
lapse  of  memory  on  Erasmus's  part.     The  epigram  alluded  to  is 
Martial's,  and  the  person  who  is  its  object,  Sabidius  ;  i.  33  : — 

Non  amo  te,  Sabidi,  nee  possum  dicere  quare  ; 
Hoc  tantum  possum  dicere,  non  amo  te. 

As  to  the  famous  English  adaptation  of  the  epigram,  a  corre 
spondent  of  Notes  and  Queries  says  the  author  was  Tom  Brown, 
who  wrote  Dialogues  of  the  Dead,  and  the  person  referred  to  was 


Notes  3 1  3 

Dr.  Fell,  Dean  of  Christchurch(i62S— 1686)  who  expelled  him,  but 
said  he  would  remit  the  sentence  if  he  translated  the  thirty-third 
epigram  of  Martial.  The  result  was  the  well-known  lines  :— 

'  I  do  not  like  thee,  Dr.  Fell, 
The  reason  why  I  cannot  tell ; 
But  this  I  know,  I  know  full  well, 
I  do  not  like  thee,  Dr.  Fell.' 

Brewer's  Diet,  of  Phrase  and  Fable. 

As  to  Volusius,  Catullus  has  an  ode  against  him  and  his  Annals 
(xxxvi.)  beginning,  '  Annales  Volust,  cacata  charta,  etc.'  Hence 
the  confusion  of  recollection  in  the  text. 


PROBLEMA 

1.  Why  does  the  River  Arethusa  run  under  the  Sicanian  sea, 
etc.     Should  be,   the  river  Alpheus,  who  (for  the  Greeks  deified 
their  rivers)   pursued   the   nymph   Arethusa  under   ground  and 
ocean,  and  sought  to  mingle  his  water  with  hers  at  Ortygia  in 
Cicily.     The  beautiful  myth  is  founded  on  the  natural  fact  that 
the  river  Alpheus  in  Peloponnesus  has  a  subterranean  descent 
and  flow  during  a  part  of  its  course. 

2.  The  Lake  Asphaltitis.     The  mare  mortmtm  or  Dead  Sea. 

3.  The  ignorant  Antients,  following  Homer,  believd  the  Heaven 
to  be  made  of  Iron.     In  the  Iliad  it  is  described  as  brazen  (^dX/ceos), 
xvii.  425 ;  v.  504 ;  in  the  Odyssey  as  iron,  xv.  329,  xvii.  565 ;  also 
in  the  Odyssey,  iii.  2,  as  TroXi^xaX/cos.     A  similar  notion  appears 
in  the  Hebrew  rakia,  something  flattened  out,  translated  firma 
ment. 

4.  The  Souls  of  Men,  that  Virgil  calls  Sparks  of  pure  ^Etfier. 
In  that  fine  passage  from  which  the  Catholic  doctrine  of  purgatory 
seems  to  be  derived,  vi.  735,  sq.  : — 

'Donee  longa  dies,  perfecto  temporis  orbe, 
Concretam  exemit  labiem,  purumque  reliquit 
./Etherium  sensum,  atque  aurai  simplicis  ignem.' 

THE  EPICUREAN 

i.  The  Epicurean.  Hcdonius,  a  name  coined  from  rfiov-r], 
pleasure.  Spudceus,  ffTrovdcuos,  earnest,  eager,  etc. 

2.  It  is  commonly  the  Case  of  Farmers  to  be  at  Uncertainty  as  to 
the  Ends  of  Lands.  A  pun  on  the  double  meaning  oljines,  that  of 
ends,  final  causes,  and  that  of  boundaries. 

VOL.  III.  X 


3 1 4  Colloquies  of  Erasmus 

3.  If  we  will  speak  the  Truth,  none  are  greater  Epicureans  than 
those  Christians  that  live  a  pious  Life.     Compare  with  the  whole 
passage  the  following  from  Montaigne :  '  Toutes  les  opinions  du 
monde  en  sont  la,  que  le  plaisir  est  nostre  but ;  quoiqu'elles  en 
prennent  divers  moyens  :  autrement  on  les  chasseroit  d'arrive'e ; 
car  qui  e'couteroit  celui  qui,  pour  sa  fin,  establiroit  nostre  peine  et 
mesaise?    Les  dissentions  des  sectes  philosophiqucs  en  ce  cas  sont 
verbales ;   transcurramus    solertissimas    nugas ;     il    y  a  plus   d' 
opiniastrete'   et  de  picoterie   qu'il   n'appartient  a  une  si  saincte 
profession  ;  mais  quelque  personnage  que  homme  entrepreigne,  il 
joue  tousiour  le  sien  parmy.     Quoy  qu'ils  dient,  en  la  vertu  meme, 
le  dernier  but  de  nostre  lise'e,  c'est  la  volupte'.     II  me  plaist  de 
battre  leurs  aureilles  de  ce  mot,  qui  leur  est  si  fort  a  contrecoeur  ; 
et  s'il  signifie  quelque  supreme  plaisir  et  excessif  contentement,  il 
est  mieux  deu  a  1'assistance  de  la  vertu  qu'a  nulle  aultre  assis 
tance.     Cette  volupte,  pour  estre  plus  gaillarde,  nerveuse,  robuste, 
virile,  n'en  est  que  plus  serieusement  voluptueux  ;  et  lui  debvions 
donner  le  nom  du  plaisir,  plus  favourable,  plus  doux  et  naturel, 
non  celui  de  la  vigueur,  duquel  nous  1'avons  d^nommee.' — Liv.  i. 
chap.  xxx. 

4.  A  Sentence  in  Plautus  that  has  more  Wisdom  in  it,  than  all 
the  Paradoxes  of  the  Stoics.     See  the  Mosfellaria,  iii.  I.  13. 

5.  A  certain  sort  of  Flax,  which  being  put  into  the  fire  is  not 
burnt,  but  shines  brighter.     Some,  however,  read  lignum,  wood, 
instead  of  linum,  flax. 

6.  Syrus  in  the  Comedy,  after  he  had  slept  away  his  Debauch, 
spoke  sober  Things.     See  the  Adelphi  of  Terence. 

7.  The  Pox,  which  by  Way  of  Extenuation  they  call  the  Com 
mon-Garden  Gout.     Lit.,  '  The  Neapolitan  scab.' 

8.  Do  they  not  epicurise  gloriously  ?     Yes,  if  coming  often  to  the 
Powdering-Tub  be  doing  so.     A  pun  is  here  disguised.     '  Do  they 
not  seem  finely  to  Epicurise  (eiriKovpifciv)  ?     Yes,  to  epicourlathein 
(e?rt  Kovpeia  dew,  to  run  to  the  barbers'  shops).' 

9.  A  Callous  grown  insensible  of  their  Calamity.     Lit.,  callus,  a 
hard  skin  in  animals  ;  rind  in  plants. 

10.  The  Stable-Door  shut  when  the  Steed  is  stolen.     Lit.,  'Sero 
sapiunt  Phryges,1  '  The  Phrygians  are  late  wise.' 

11.  We  frequently  see  Men  that  are  truly  pious,  die  with  greater 
Chearfulness  than  others  live.    A  notable  illustration  of  this  was 
to  be  furnished,  a  few  years  later,  in  the  person  of  Sir  Thomas 
More,  one  of  Erasmus's  most  cherished  friends. 


Notes  3 1 5 

12.  In  some  cases,    like  Momnses,   some  murmur  against  the 
Workman,  etc.      Momus,   in  the  Greek  myth,   represented   the 

spirit  of  mockery  and  disparagement.  He  was  expelled  from 
Olympus  for  scoffing  at  Vulcan's  handiwork  and  at  Yenus's  creak 
ing  sandals. 

13.  That  adorable  Prince  of  Christian  Philosophers.     Would  be 
better  rendered,  '  That  adorable  Head  of  Christian  philosophy ' 
(Christians:  philosophise  princeps). 

14.  Tantalus  and  the  Stone.     There  are  several  different  forms 
of  this  striking  myth  concerning  Tantalus,  which  has  strongly 
impressed  itself  on  language  in  tantalize. 

THE  CONFLICT  BETWEEN  THALIA  AND 
BARBARISM 

1.  Chiron.      The  famous    learned  centaur,   the    instructor  of 
Hercules,  Achilles,  etc. 

2.  That  Cacits  whom  Virgil  speaks  of.     sEneid,  viii.  194  : 

'  Hie  speluncnfuit,  vasto  subinota  recessu, 
Stmihoiiiinis  Caci fades  yuai/i  dira  tenebat.' 

His  cave  was  in  Italy.  He  is  elsewhere  represented  as  a  three- 
headed  monster. 

3.  /  believe  you'd  make  the  very  Post  and  Pillars  burst  with  your 
braggadochia  talking.     An  allusion  to  Juvenal,  Sat.  \.  12,  13  :— 

1  Frcntonis  platani  convulsaquc  marmora  clamant 
Semper,  et  assiduo  rvpta-  lectore  col-umna.' 

'  The  walks  of  Fronto  echo  round  and  round— 
The  columns  trembling  with  the  eternal  sound.' 

Gifford. 


Printed  by  T.  and  A.  CONSTABLE,  Printers  to  Her  Majesty 
at  the  Edinburgh  University  Press 


PA 

8508 

E5B35 

1900 

v.3 


Erasmus,   Desiderius 
The  colloquies 


PLEASE  DO  NOT  REMOVE 
CARDS  OR  SLIPS  FROM  THIS  POCKET 


UNIVERSITY  OF  TORONTO  LIBRARY