The Colloquies of Erasmus, Volume I

Con. It may be they liv'd like Beasts.

Innk. Nay, they said they liv'd a Life of great Humanity, they liv'd under a King, they attended him to Work every Morning daily, but not above an Hour in a Day.

Con. What Work did they do?

Innk. They pluck'd up a certain Sort of Roots that serves them instead of Bread, and is more pleasant and more wholsome than Bread; and when this was done, they every one went to his Business, what he had a Mind to do. They bring up their Children religiously, they avoid and punish Vices, but none more severely than Adultery.

Con. What's the Punishment?

Innk. They forgive the Women, for it is permitted to that Sex. But for Men that are taken in Adultery, this is the Punishment, that all his Life after, he should appear in publick with his privy Parts covered.

Con. A mighty Punishment indeed!

Innk. Custom has made it to them the very greatest Punishment that is.

Con. When I consider the Force of Persuasion, I am almost ready to allow it. For if a Man would expose a Thief or a Murderer to the greatest Ignominy, would it not be a sufficient Punishment to cut off a Piece of the hinder Part of his Cloaths, and sow a Piece of a Wolf's Skin upon his Buttocks, to make him wear a party-colour'd Pair of Stockings, and to cut the fore Part of his Doublet in the Fashion of a Net, leaving his Shoulders and his Breast bare; to shave off one Side of his Beard, and leave the other hanging down, and curl one Part of it, and to put him a Cap on his Head, cut and slash'd, with a huge Plume of Feathers, and so expose him publickly; would not this make him more ridiculous than to put him on a Fool's Cap with long Ears and Bells? And yet Soldiers dress themselves every Day in this Trim, and are well enough pleased with themselves, and find Fools enough, that like the Dress too, though there is nothing more ridiculous.

Innk. Nay, there are topping Citizens too, who imitate them as much as they can possibly.

Con. But now if a Man should dress himself up with Birds Feathers like an Indian, would not the very Boys, all of them, think he was a mad Man?

Innk. Stark mad.

Con. And yet, that which we admire, savours of a greater Madness still: Now as it is true, that nothing is so ridiculous but Custom will bear it out; so it cannot be denied, but that there is a certain Decorum in Garments, which all wise Men always account a Decorum; and that there is also an Unbecomingness in Garments, which will to wise Men always seem unbecoming. Who does not laugh, when he sees a Woman dragging a long Train at her Heels, as if her Quality were to be measured by the Length of her Tail? And yet some Cardinals are not asham'd to follow this Fashion in their Gowns: And so prevalent a Thing is Custom, that there is no altering of a Fashion that has once obtain'd.

Innk. Well, we have had Talk enough about Custom: But tell me now, whether you think it better for Monks to differ from others in Habit, or not to differ?

Con. I think it to be more agreeable to Christian Simplicity, not to judge of any Man by his Habit, if it be but sober and decent.

Innk. Why don't you cast away your Cowls then?

Con. Why did not the Apostles presently eat of all Sorts of Meat?

Innk. I can't tell. Do you tell me that.

Con. Because an invincible Custom hinder'd it: For whatsoever is deeply rooted in the Minds of Men, and has been confirm'd by long Use, and is turn'd as it were into Nature, can never be remov'd on a sudden, without endangering the publick Peace; but must be remov'd by Degrees, as a Horse's Tail is pluck'd off by single Hairs.

Innk. I could bear well enough with it, if the Monks had all but one Habit: But who can bear so many different Habits?

Con. Custom has brought in this Evil, which brings in every Thing. Benedict did not invent a new Habit, but the same that he wore himself and his Disciples, which was the Habit of a plain, honest Layman: Neither did Francis invent a new Dress; but it was the Dress of poor Country-Fellows. Their Successors have by new Additions turned it into Superstition. Don't we see some old Women at this Day, that keep to the Dress of their Times, which is more different from the Dress now in Fashion, than my Dress is from yours?

Innk. We do see it.

Con. Therefore, when you see this Habit, you see only the Reliques of antient Times.

Innk. Why then, has your Garment no Holiness in it?

Con. None at all.

Innk. There are some of you that make their Boasts that these Dresses were divinely directed by the holy Virgin Mother.

Con. These Stories are but meer Dreams.

Innk. Some despair of being able to recover from a Fit of Sickness, unless they be wrapp'd up in a Dominican's Habit: Nay, nor won't be buried but in a Franciscan's Habit.

Con. They that persuade People of those Things, are either Cheats or Fools, and they that believe them are superstitious. God will know a wicked Man as well in a Franciscan's Habit, as in a Soldier's Coat.

Innk. There is not so much Variety in the Feathers of Birds of the Air, as there is in your Habits.

Con. What then, is it not a very good Thing to imitate Nature? But it is a better Thing to out-do it.

Innk. I wish you would out-do it in the Variety of your Beaks too.

Con. But, come on. I will be an Advocate for Variety, if you will give me Leave. Is not a Spaniard dressed after one Fashion, an Italian after another, a Frenchman after another, a German after another, a Greek after another, a Turk after another, and a Sarazen after another?

Innk. Yes.

Con. And then in the same Country, what Variety of Garments is there in Persons of the same Sex, Age and Degree. How different is the Dress of the Venetian from the Florentine, and of both from the Roman, and this only within Italy alone?

Innk. I believe it.

Con. And from hence also came our Variety. Dominic he took his Dress from the honest Ploughmen in that Part of Spain in which he liv'd; and Benedict from the Country-Fellows of that Part of Italy in which he liv'd; and Francis from the Husbandmen of a different Place, and so for the rest.

Innk. So that for aught I find, you are no holier than we, unless you live holier.

Con. Nay, we are worse than you, in that; if we live wickedly, we are a greater Stumbling to the Simple.

Innk. Is there any Hope of us then, who have neither Patron, nor Habit, nor Rule, nor Profession?

Con. Yes, good Man; see that you hold it fast. Ask your Godfathers what you promis'd in Baptism, what Profession you then made. Do you want a human Rule, who have made a Profession of the Gospel Rule? Or do you want a Man for a Patron, who have Jesus Christ for a Patron? Consider what you owe to your Wife, to your Children, to your Family, and you will find you have a greater Load upon you, than if you had professed the Rule of Francis.

Innk. Do you believe that any Inn-Keepers go to Heaven?

Con. Why not?

Innk. There are a great many Things said and done in this House, that are not according to the Gospel.

Con. What are they?

Innk. One fuddles, another talks bawdy, another brawls, and another slanders; and last of all, I can't tell whether they keep themselves honest or not.

Con. You must prevent these Things as much as you can; and if you cannot hinder them, however, do not for Profit's Sake encourage or draw on these Wickednesses.

Innk. Sometimes I don't deal very honestly as to my Wine.

Con. Wherein?

Innk. When I find my Guests grow a little too hot, I put more Water into the Wine.

Con. That's a smaller Fault than selling of Wine made up with unwholsome Ingredients.

Innk. But tell me truly, how many Days have you been in this Journey?

Con. Almost a Month.

Innk. Who takes Care of you all the While?

Con. Are not they taken Care enough of, that have a Wife, and Children, and Parents, and Kindred?

Innk. Oftentimes.

Con. You have but one Wife, we have an hundred; you have but one Father, we have an hundred; you have but one House, we have an hundred; you have but a few Children, we have an innumerable Company; you have but a few Kindred, we have an infinite Number.

Innk. How so?

Con. Because the Kindred of the Spirit extends more largely, than the Kindred of the Flesh: So Christ has promised, and we experience the Truth of what he has promised.

Innk. In Troth, you have been a good Companion for me; let me die if I don't like this Discourse better than to drink with our Parson. Do us the Honour to preach to the People to-morrow, and if ever you happen to come this Way again, know that here's a Lodging for you.

Con. But what if others should come?

Innk. They shall be welcome, if they be but such as you.

Con. I hope they will be better.

Innk. But among so many bad ones, how shall I know which are good?

Con. I'll tell you in a few Words, but in your Ear.

Innk. Tell me.

Con.—–

Innk. I'll remember it, and do it.

THE ABBOT AND LEARNED WOMAN

The ARGUMENT

A certain Abbot paying a Visit to a Lady, finds her reading Greek and Latin Authors. A Dispute arises, whence Pleasantness of Life proceeds: viz. Not from external Enjoyments, but from the Study of Wisdom. An ignorant Abbot will by no Means have his Monks to be learned; nor has he himself so much as a single Book in his Closet. Pious Women in old Times gave their Minds to the Study of the Scriptures; but Monks that hate Learning, and give themselves up to Luxury, Idleness, and Hunting, are provok'd to apply themselves to other Kinds of Studies, more becoming their Profession.

ANTRONIUS, MAGDALIA.

Ant. What Sort of Houshold-Stuff do I see?

Mag. Is it not that which is neat?

Ant. How neat it is, I can't tell, but I'm sure, it is not very becoming, either a Maid or a Matron.

Mag. Why so?

Ant. Because here's Books lying about every where.

Mag. What have you liv'd to this Age, and are both an Abbot and a Courtier, and never saw any Books in a Lady's Apartment?

Ant. Yes, I have seen Books, but they were French; but here I see Greek and Latin ones.

Mag. Why, are there no other Books but French ones that teach Wisdom?

Ant. But it becomes Ladies to have something that is diverting, to pass away their leisure Hours.

Mag. Must none but Ladies be wise, and live pleasantly?

Ant. You very improperly connect being wise, and living pleasantly together: Women have nothing to do with Wisdom; Pleasure is Ladies Business.

Mag. Ought not every one to live well?

Ant. I am of Opinion, they ought so to do.

Mag. Well, can any Body live a pleasant Life, that does not live a good Life.

Ant. Nay, rather, how can any Body live a pleasant Life, that does live a good Life?

Mag. Why then, do you approve of living illy, if it be but pleasantly?

Ant. I am of the Opinion, that they live a good Life, that live a pleasant Life.

Mag. Well, but from whence does that Pleasure proceed? From outward Things, or from the Mind?

Ant. From outward Things.

Mag. O subtle Abbot, but thick-skull'd Philosopher! Pray tell me in what you suppose a pleasant Life to consist?

Ant. Why, in Sleeping, and Feasting, and Liberty of doing what you please, in Wealth, and in Honours.

Mag. But suppose to all these Things God should add Wisdom, should you live pleasantly then?

Ant. What is it that you call by the Name of Wisdom?

Mag. This is Wisdom, to know that a Man is only happy by the Goods of the Mind. That Wealth, Honour, and Descent, neither make a Man happier or better.

Ant. If that be Wisdom, fare it well for me.

Mag. Suppose now that I take more Pleasure in reading a good Author, than you do in Hunting, Drinking, or Gaming; won't you think I live pleasantly?

Ant. I would not live that Sort of Life.

Mag. I don't enquire what you take most Delight in; but what is it that ought to be most delighted in?

Ant. I would not have my Monks mind Books much.

Mag. But my Husband approves very well of it. But what Reason have you, why you would not have your Monks bookish?

Ant. Because I find they are not so obedient; they answer again out of the Decrees and Decretals of Peter and Paul.

Mag. Why then do you command them the contrary to what Peter and Paul did?

Ant. I can't tell what they teach; but I can't endure a Monk that answers again: Nor would I have any of my Monks wiser than I am myself.

Mag. You might prevent that well enough, if you did but lay yourself out, to get as much Wisdom as you can.

Ant. I han't Leisure.

Mag. Why so?

Ant. Because I han't Time.

Mag. What, not at Leisure to be wise?

Ant. No.

Mag. Pray what hinders you?

Ant. Long Prayers, the Affairs of my Houshold, Hunting, looking after my Horses, attending at Court.

Mag. Well, and do you think these Things are better than Wisdom?

Ant. Custom has made it so.

Mag. Well, but now answer me this one Thing: Suppose God should grant you this Power, to be able to turn yourself and your Monks into any Sort of Animal that you had a Mind: Would you turn them into Hogs, and yourself into a Horse?

Ant. No, by no Means.

Mag. By doing so you might prevent any of them from being wiser than yourself?

Ant. It is not much Matter to me what Sort of Animals my Monks are, if I am but a Man myself.

Mag. Well, and do you look upon him to be a Man that neither has Wisdom, nor desires to have it?

Ant. I am wise enough for myself.

Mag. And so are Hogs wise enough for themselves.

Ant. You seem to be a Sophistress, you argue so smartly.

Mag. I won't tell you what you seem to me to be. But why does this Houshold-Stuff displease you?

Ant. Because a Spinning-Wheel is a Woman's Weapon.

Mag. Is it not a Woman's Business to mind the Affairs of her Family, and to instruct her Children?

Ant. Yes, it is.

Mag. And do you think so weighty an Office can be executed without Wisdom?

Ant. I believe not.

Mag. This Wisdom I learn from Books.

Ant. I have threescore and two Monks in my Cloister, and you will not see one Book in my Chamber.

Mag. The Monks are finely look'd after all this While.

Ant. I could dispense with Books; but I can't bear Latin Books.

Mag. Why so?

Ant. Because that Tongue is not fit for a Woman.

Mag. I want to know the Reason.

Ant. Because it contributes nothing towards the Defence of their Chastity.

Mag. Why then do French Books that are stuff'd with the most trifling Novels, contribute to Chastity?

Ant. But there is another Reason.

Mag. Let it be what it will, tell me it plainly.

Ant. They are more secure from the Priests, if they don't understand Latin.

Mag. Nay, there's the least Danger from that Quarter according to your Way of Working; because you take all the Pains you can not to know any Thing of Latin.

Ant. The common People are of my Mind, because it is such a rare unusual Thing for a Woman to understand Latin.

Mag. What do you tell me of the common People for, who are the worst Examples in the World that can be follow'd. What have I to do with Custom, that is the Mistress of all evil Practices? We ought to accustom ourselves to the best Things: And by that Means, that which was uncustomary would become habitual, and that which was unpleasant would become pleasant; and that which seemed unbecoming would look graceful.

Ant. I hear you.

Mag. Is it becoming a German Woman to learn to speak French.

Ant. Yes it is.

Mag. Why is it?

Ant. Because then she will be able to converse with those that speak French.

Mag. And why then is it unbecoming in me to learn Latin, that I may be able daily to have Conversation with so many eloquent, learned and wise Authors, and faithful Counsellors?

Ant. Books destroy Women's Brains, who have little enough of themselves.

Mag. What Quantity of Brains you have left I cannot tell: And as for myself, let me have never so little, I had rather spend them in Study, than in Prayers mumbled over without the Heart going along with them, or sitting whole Nights in quaffing off Bumpers.

Ant. Bookishness makes Folks mad.

Mag. And does not the Rattle of your Pot-Companions, your Banterers, and Drolls, make you mad?

Ant. No, they pass the Time away.

Mag. How can it be then, that such pleasant Companions should make me mad?

Ant. That's the common Saying.

Mag. But I by Experience find quite the contrary. How many more do we see grow mad by hard drinking, unseasonable feasting, and sitting up all Night tippling, which destroys the Constitution and Senses, and has made People mad?

Ant. By my Faith, I would not have a learned Wife.

Mag. But I bless myself, that I have gotten a Husband that is not like yourself. Learning both endears him to me, and me to him.

Ant. Learning costs a great Deal of Pains to get, and after all we must die.

Mag. Notable Sir, pray tell me, suppose you were to die to-Morrow, had you rather die a Fool or a wise Man?

Ant. Why, a wise Man, if I could come at it without taking Pains.

Mag. But there is nothing to be attained in this Life without Pains; and yet, let us get what we will, and what Pains soever we are at to attain it, we must leave it behind us: Why then should we think much to be at some Pains for the most precious Thing of all, the Fruit of which will bear us Company unto another Life.

Ant. I have often heard it said, that a wise Woman is twice a Fool.

Mag. That indeed has been often said; but it was by Fools. A Woman that is truly wise does not think herself so: But on the contrary, one that knows nothing, thinks her self to be wise, and that is being twice a Fool.

Ant. I can't well tell how it is, that as Panniers don't become an Ox, so neither does Learning become a Woman.

Mag. But, I suppose, you can't deny but Panniers will look better upon an Ox, than a Mitre upon an Ass or a Sow. What think you of the Virgin Mary?

Ant. Very highly.

Mag. Was not she bookish?

Ant. Yes; but not as to such Books as these.

Mag. What Books did she read?

Ant. The canonical Hours.

Mag. For the Use of whom?

Ant. Of the Order of Benedictines.

Mag. Indeed? What did Paula and Eustochium do? Did not they converse with the holy Scriptures?

Ant. Ay, but this is a rare Thing now.

Mag. So was a blockheaded Abbot in old Time; but now nothing is more common. In old Times Princes and Emperors were as eminent for Learning as for their Governments: And after all, it is not so great a Rarity as you think it. There are both in Spain and Italy not a few Women, that are able to vye with the Men, and there are the Morites in England, and the Bilibald-duks and Blaureticks in Germany. So that unless you take Care of yourselves it will come to that Pass, that we shall be Divinity-Professors in the Schools, and preach in the Churches, and take Possession of your Mitres.

Ant. God forbid.

Mag. Nay it is your Business to forbid it. For if you hold on as you have begun, even Geese themselves will preach before they'll endure you a Parcel of dumb Teachers. You see the World is turn'd up-Side down, and you must either lay aside your Dress, or perform your Part.

Ant. How came I to fall into this Woman's Company? If you'll come to see me, I'll treat you more pleasantly.

Mag. After what Manner?

Ant. Why, we'll dance, and drink heartily, and hunt and play, and laugh.

Mag. I can hardly forbear laughing now.

THE EPITHALAMIUM OF PETRUS ÆGIDIUS

The ARGUMENT

The Muses and Graces are brought in, as singing the Epithalamium of Peter Ægidius. Alipius spies the nine Muses, and the three Graces coming out of a Grove, which Balbinus can't see: They take their Way to Antwerp, to the Wedding of Ægidius, to whom they wish all joy, that nothing of Difference or Uneasiness may ever arise between 'em. How those Marriages prove that are made, the Graces not favouring 'em. Congratulatory Verses.

ALIPIUS, BALBINUS, MUSÆ.

Al. Good God! What strange glorious Sight do I see here?

Ba. Either you see what is not to be seen, or I can't see that which is to be seen.

Al. Nay, I'll assure you, 'tis a wonderful charming Sight.

Ba. Why do you plague me at this Rate? Tell me, where 'tis you see it.

Al. Upon the left Hand there in the Grove, under the Side of the Hill.

Ba. I see the Hill, but I can see nothing else.

Al. No! don't you see a Company of pretty Maids there?

Ba. What do you mean, to make a Fool of me at this Rate? I can't see a bit of a Maid any where.

Al. Hush, they're just now coming out of the Grove. Oh admirable! How neat they are! How charmingly they look! 'Tis a heavenly Sight.

Ba. What! Are you possess'd?

Al. Oh, I know who they are; they're the nine Muses and the three Graces, I wonder what they're a-doing. I never in all my Life saw 'em more charmingly dress'd, nor in a gayer Humour; they have every one of 'em got Crowns of Laurel upon their Heads, and their Instruments of Musick in their Hands. And how lovingly the Graces go Side by Side! How becomingly they look in their loose Dress, with their Garments flowing and trailing after 'em.

Ba. I never heard any Body talk more like a mad Man in all my Days, than you do.

Al. You never saw a happier Man in all your Life-Time.

Ba. Pray what's the Matter, that you can see and I can't?

Al. Because you have never drank of the Muses Fountain; and no Body can see 'em but they that have.

Ba. I have drank plentifully out of Scotus's Fountain.

Al. But that is not the Fountain of the Muses, but a Lake of Frogs.

Ba. But can't you do something to make me see this Sight, as well as you?

Al. I could if I had a Laurel-Branch here, for Water out of a clear Spring, sprinkled upon one with a Laurel Bough, makes the Eyes capable of such Sights as these.

Ba. Why, see here is a Laurel and a Fountain too.

Al. Is there? That's clever, I vow.

Ba. But prithee, sprinkle me with it.

Al. Now look, do you see now?