No More Learning

In
the body of a beast, one member is in peace with another, and each member
useth not the property thereto given for itself alone, but for the profit
of all the other members. So that if there come any good to any one member
alone, it helpeth all the whole body. And may the compaction or knitting
of Nature do more in the body of a beast, that shortly must perish, than
the coupling of the Holy Ghost in the mystical and immortal body of the
Church? Do we to no purpose pray as taught by Christ: Good Lord, even as
thy will is fulfilled in heaven, so let it be fulfilled in the earth? In
that city of heaven is concord and peace most perfect. And Christ would
have his Church to be none other than a heavenly people in earth, as near
as might be after the manner of them that are in heaven, ever labouring
and making haste to go thither, and always having their mind thereon.

Now go to, let us imagine, that there should come some new guest out of
the lunar cities, where Empedocles dwelleth, or else out of the
innumerable worlds, that Democritus fabricated, into this world, desiring
to know what the inhabitants do here. And when he was instructed of
everything, it should at last be told him that, besides all other, there
is one creature marvellously mingled, of body like to brute beasts and of
soul like unto God. And it should also be told him, that this creature is
so noble, that though he be here an outlaw out of his own country, yet are
all other beasts at his commandment, the which creature through his
heavenly beginning inclineth alway to things heavenly and immortal. And
that God eternal loved this creature so well, that whereas he could
neither by the gifts of nature, nor by the strong reasons of philosophy
attain unto that which he so fervently desired, he sent hither his only
begotten son, to the intent to teach this creature a new kind of learning.
Then as soon as this new guest had perceived well the whole manner of
Christ's life and precepts, would desire to stand in some high place, from
whence he might behold that which he had heard. And when he should see
all other creatures soberly live according to their kind, and, being led
by the laws and course of nature, desire nothing but even as Nature would;
and should see this one special creature man given riotously to tavern
haunting, to vile lucre, to buying and selling, chopping and changing, to
brawling and fighting one with another, trow ye that he would not think
that any of the other creatures were man, of whom he heard so much of
before, rather than he that is indeed man? Then if he that had instructed
him afore would show him which creature is man, now would he look about to
see if he could spy the Christian flock and company, the which, following
the ordinance of that heavenly teacher Christ, should exhibit to him a
figure or shape of the evangelical city. Think ye he would not rather
judge Christians to dwell in any other place than in those countries,
wherein we see so great superfluity, riot, voluptuousness, pride, tyranny,
discord, brawlings, fightings, wars, tumults, yea, and briefly to speak, a
greater puddle of all those things that Christ reproveth than among Turks
or Saracens? From whence, then, creepeth this pestilence in among
Christian people? Doubtless this mischief also is come in by little and
little, like as many more other be, ere men be aware of them. For truly
every mischief creepeth by little and little upon the good manners of men,
or else under the colour of goodness it is suddenly received.

So then first of all, learning and cunning crept in as a thing very meet
to confound heretics, which defend their opinions with the doctrine of
philosophers, poets, and orators. And surely at the beginning of our
faith, Christian men did not learn those things; but such as peradventure
had learned them, before they knew what Christ meant, they turned the
thing that they had learned already, into good use.

Eloquence of tongue was at the beginning dissembled more than despised,
but at length it was openly approved. After that, under colour of
confounding heretics, came in an ambitious pleasure of brawling
disputations, which hath brought into the Church of Christ no small
mischief. At length the matter went so farforth that Aristotle was
altogether received into the middle of divinity, and so received, that his
authority is almost reputed holier than the authority of Christ. For if
Christ spake anything that did little agree with our life, by
interpretation of Aristotle it was lawful to make it serve their purpose.
But if any do never so little repugn against the high divinity of
Aristotle, he is quickly with clapping of hands driven out of the place.
For of him we have learned, that the felicity of man is imperfect, except
he have both the good gifts of body and of fortune. Of him we have
learned, that no commonweal may flourish, in which all things are
common. And we endeavour ourselves to glue fast together the decrees of
this man and the doctrine of Christ--which is as likely a thing as to
mingle fire and water together. And a gobbet we have received of the civil
laws, because of the equity that seemeth to be in them. And to the end
they should the better serve our purpose, we have, as near as may be,
writhed and plied the doctrine of the gospel to them. Now by the civil law
it is lawful for a man to defend violence with violence, and each to
pursue for his right. Those laws approve buying and selling; they allow
usury, so it be measurable; they praise war as a noble thing, so, it be
just. Finally all the doctrine of Christ is so defiled with the learning
of logicians, sophisters, astronomers, orators, poets, philosophers,
lawyers, and gentles, that a man shall spend the most part of his life,
ere he may have any leisure to search holy scripture, to the which when a
man at last cometh, he must come infected with so many worldly opinions,
that either he must be offended with Christ's doctrines, or else he must
apply them to the mind and of them that he hath learned before. And this
thing is so much approved, that it is now a heinous deed, if a man presume
to study holy scripture, which hath not buried himself up to the hard ears
in those trifles, or rather sophistries of Aristotle. As though Christ's
doctrine were such, that it were not lawful for all men to know it, or
else that it could by any means agree with the wisdom of philosophers.
Besides this we admitted at the beginning of our faith some honour, which
afterward we claimed as of duty. Then we received riches, but that was to
distribute to relieve poor men, which afterwards we turned to our own use.
And why not, since we have learned by the law civil, that the very order
of charity is, that every man must first provide for himself? Nor lack
there colours to cloak this mischief: first it is a good deed to provide
for our children, and it is right that we foresee how to live in age;
finally, why should we, say they, give our goods away, if we come by them
without fraud? By these degrees it is by little and little come to pass,
that he is taken for the best man that hath most riches: nor never was
there more honour given to riches among the heathen people, than is at
this day among the Christian people. For what thing is there, either
spiritual or temporal, that is not done with great show of riches? And it
seemed a thing agreeable with those ornaments, if Christian men had some
great jurisdiction under them. Nor there wanted not such as gladly
submitted themselves. Albeit at the beginning it was against their wills,
and scantly would they receive it. And yet with much work, they received
it so, that they were content with the name and title only: the profit
thereof they gladly gave unto other men. At the last, little by little
it came to pass, that a bishop thought himself no bishop, except he had
some temporal lordship withal; an abbot thought himself of small
authority, if he had not wherewith to play the lordly sire. And in
conclusion, we blushed never a deal at the matter, we wiped away all
shamefastness, and shoved aside all the bars of comeliness. And whatever
abuse was used among the heathen people, were it covetousness, ambition,
riot, pomp, or pride, or tyranny, the same we follow, in the same we match
them, yea, and far pass them. And to pass over the lighter things for the
while, I pray you, was there ever war among the heathen people so long
continually, or more cruelly, than among Christian people? What stormy
rumblings, what violent brays of war, what tearing of leagues, and what
piteous slaughters of men have we seen ourselves within these few years?
What nation hath not fought and skirmished with another? And then we go
and curse the Turk; and what can be a more pleasant sight to the Turks,
than to behold us daily each slaying other?

Xerxes doted, when he led out of his own country that huge multitude of
people to make war upon the Greeks. Trow ye, was he not mad, when he wrote
letters to the mountain called Athos, threatening that the hill should
repent except it obeyed his lust? And the same Xerxes commanded also the
sea to be beaten, because it was somewhat rough when he should have
sailed over.

Who will deny but Alexander the Great was mad also? He, the young god,
wished that there were many worlds, the which he might conquer--so great a
fever of vainglory had embraced his young lusty courage. And yet these
same men, the which Seneca doubted not to call mad thieves, warred after a
gentler fashion than we do; they were more faithful of their promise in
war, nor they used not so mischievous engines in war, nor such crafts and
subtleties, nor they warred not for so light causes as we Christian men
do. They rejoiced to advance and enrich such provinces as they had
conquered by war; and the rude people, that lived like wild beasts without
laws, learning, or good manners, they taught them both civil conditions
and crafts, whereby they might live like men. In countries that were not
inhabited with people, they builded cities, and made them both fair and
profitable. And the places that were not very sure, they fenced, for
safeguard of the people, with bridges, banks, bulwarks; and with a
thousand other such commodities they helped the life of man. So that then
it was right expedient to be overcome. Yea, and how many things read we,
that were either wisely done, or soberly spoken of them in the midst of
their wars. As for those things that are done in Christian men's wars they
are more filthy and cruel than is convenient here to rehearse. Moreover,
look what was worst in the heathen peoples' wars, in that we follow them,
yea, we pass them.

But now it is worth while to hear, by what means we maintain this our so
great madness. Thus they reason: If it had not been lawful by no means to
make war, surely God would never have been the author to the Jews to make
war against their enemies. Well said, but we must add hereunto, that the
Jews never made war among themselves, but against strangers and wicked
men. We, Christian men, fight with Christian men. Diversity of religion
caused the Jews to fight against their enemies: for their enemies
worshipped not God as they did. We make war oftentimes for a little
childish anger, or for hunger of money, or for thirst of glory, or else
for filthy meed. The Jews fought by the commandment of God; we make war to
avenge the grief and displeasure of our mind. And nevertheless if men will
so much lean to the example of the Jews, why do we not then in like manner
use circumcision? Why do we not sacrifice with the blood of sheep and
other beasts? Why do we not abstain from swine's flesh? Why doth not each
of us wed many wives? Since we abhor those things, why doth the example of
war please us so much? Why do we here follow the bare letter that killeth?
It was permitted the Jews to make war, but so likewise as they were
suffered to depart from their wives, doubtless because of their hard and
froward manners. But after Christ commanded the sword to be put up, it is
unlawful for Christian men to make any other war but that which is the
fairest war of all, with the most eager and fierce enemies of the Church,
with affection of money, with wrath, with ambition, with dread of death.
These be our Philistines, these be our Nabuchodonosors, these be our
Moabites and Ammonites, with the which it behooveth us to have no truce.
With these we must continually fight, until (our enemies being utterly
vanquished) we may be in quiet, for except we may overcome them, there is
no man that may attain to any true peace, neither with himself, nor yet
with no other. For this war alone is cause of true peace. He that
overcometh in this battle, will make war with no man living. Nor I regard
not the interpretation that some men make of the two swords, to signify
either power spiritual or temporal. When Christ suffered Peter to err
purposely, yea, after he was commanded to put up his sword, no man should
doubt but that war was forbidden, which before seemed to be lawful. But
Peter (say they) fought. True it is, Peter fought; he was yet but a Jew,
and had not the spirit of a very Christian man. He fought not for his
lands, or for any such titles of lands as we do, nor yet for his own life,
but for his Master's life. And finally, he fought, the which within a
while after forsook his Master. Now if men will needs follow the example
of Peter that fought, why might they not as well follow the example of
him forsaking his Master? And though Peter through simple affection erred,
yet did his Master rebuke him. For else, if Christ did allow such manner
of defence, as some most foolishly do interpret, why doth both all the
life and doctrine of Christ preach no other thing but sufferance? Why sent
he forth his disciples again tyrants, armed with nothing else but with a
walking-staff and a scrip? If that sword, which Christ commanded his
disciples to sell their coats to buy, be moderate defence against
persecutors, like as some men do not only wickedly but also blindly
interpret, why did the martyrs never use that defence? But (say they) the
law of nature commandeth, it is approved by the laws, and allowed by
custom, that we ought to put off from us violence by violence, and that
each of us should defend his life, and eke his money, when the money (as
Hesiod saith) is as lief as the life. All this I grant, but yet grace, the
law of Christ, that is of more effect than all these things, commandeth
us, that we should not speak ill to them that speak shrewdly to us; that
we should do well to them that do ill to us, and to them that take away
part of our possessions, we should give the whole; and that we should also
pray for them that imagine our death. But these things (say they)
appertain to the apostles; yea, they appertain to the universal people of
Christ, and to the whole body of Christ's Church, that must needs be a
whole and a perfect body, although in its gifts one member is more
excellent than another. To them the doctrine of Christ appertaineth not,
that hope not to have reward with Christ. Let them fight for money and for
lordships, that laugh to scorn the saying of Christ: Blessed be the poor
men in spirit; that is to say, be they poor or rich, blessed be they that
covet no riches in this world. They that put all their felicity in these
riches, they fight gladly to defend their life; but they be those that
understand not this life to be rather a death, nor they perceive not that
everlasting life is prepared for good men. Now they lay against us divers
bishops of Rome, the which have been both authors and abettors of warring.
True it is, some such there have been, but they were of late, and in such
time as the doctrine of Christ waxed cold. Yea, and they be very few in
comparison of the holy fathers that were before them, which with their
writings persuade us to flee war. Why are these few examples most in mind?
Why turn we our eyes from Christ to men? And why had we rather follow the
uncertain examples, than the authority that is sure and certain? For
doubtless the bishops of Rome were men. And it may be right well, that
they were either fools or ungracious caitiffs. And yet we find not that
any of them approved that we should still continually war after this
fashion as we do, which thing I could with arguments prove, if I listed
to digress and tarry thereupon.

Saint Bernard praised warriors, but he so praised them, that he condemned
all the manner of our warfare. And yet why should the saying of Saint
Bernard, or the disputation of Thomas the Alquine, move me rather than the
doctrine of Christ, which commandeth, that we should in no wise resist
evil, specially under such manner as the common people do resist.

But it is lawful (say they) that a transgressor be punished and put to
death according to the laws: then is it not lawful for a whole country or
city to be revenged by war? What may be answered in this place, is longer
than is convenient to reply. But this much will I say, there is a great
difference. For the evil-doer, found faulty and convicted, is by authority
of the laws put to death. In war there is neither part without fault.
Whereas one singular man doth offend, the punishment falleth only on
himself; and the example of the punishment doth good unto all others. In
war the most part of the punishment and harm falls upon them that least
deserve to be punished; that is, upon husbandmen, old men, honest wives,
young children, and virgins. But if there may any commodity at all be
gathered of this most mischievous thing, that altogether goeth to the
behoof of certain most vengeable thieves, hired soldiers, and strong
robbers, and perhaps to a few captains, by whose craft war was raised
for that intent, and with which the matter goeth never better than when
the commonweal is in most high jeopardy and peril to be lost. Whereas one
is for his offence grievously punished, it is the wealthy warning of all
other: but in war to the end to revenge the quarrel of one, or else
peradventure of a few, we cruelly afflict and grieve many thousands of
them that nothing deserved. It were better to leave the offence of a few
unpunished than while we seek occasion to punish one or two, to bring into
assured peril and danger, both our neighbours and innocent enemies (we
call them our enemies, though they never did us hurt); and yet are we
uncertain, whether it shall fall on them or not, that we would have
punished. It is better to let a wound alone, that cannot be cured without
grievous hurt and danger of all the whole body, than go about to heal it.

Now if any man will cry out and say: It were against all right, that he
that offendeth should not be punished; hereunto I answer, that it is much
more against all right and reason, that so many thousands of innocents
should be brought into extreme calamity and mischief without deserving.
Albeit nowadays we see, that almost all wars spring up I cannot tell of
what titles, and of leagues between princes, that while they go about to
subdue to their dominion some one town, they put in jeopardy all their
whole empire. And yet within a while after, they sell or give away the
same town again, that they got with shedding of so much blood.

Peradventure some man will say: Wouldst not have princes fight for their
right? I know right well, it is not meet for such a man as I am, to
dispute overboldly of princes' matters, and though I might do it without
any danger, yet is it longer than is convenient for this place. But this
much will I say: If each whatsoever title be a cause convenient to go in
hand with war, there is no man that in so great alterations of men's
affairs, and in so great variety and changes, can want a title. What
nation is there that hath not sometime been put out of their own country,
and also have put other out? How oft have people gone from one country to
another? How oft have whole empires been translated from one to another
either by chance or by league. Let the citizens of Padua claim now again
in God's name the country of Troy for theirs, because Antenor was sometime
a Trojan. Let the Romans now hardily claim again Africa and Spain, because
those provinces were sometime under the Romans. We call that a dominion,
which is but an administration. The power and authority over men, which be
free by Nature, and over brute beasts, is not all one. What power and
sovereignty soever you have, you have it by the consent of the people. And
if I be not deceived, he that hath authority to give, hath authority to
take away again. Will ye see how small a matter it is that we make all
this tumult for? The strife is not, whether this city or that should be
obeisant to a good prince, and not in bondage of a tyrant; but whether
Ferdinand or Sigismund hath the better title to it, whether that city
ought to pay tribute to Philip or to King Louis. This is that noble right,
for the which all the world is thus vexed and troubled with wars and
manslaughter.

Yet go to, suppose that this right or title be as strong and of as great
authority as may be; suppose also there be no difference between a private
field and a whole city; and admit there be no difference between the
beasts that you have bought with your money and men, which be not only
free, but also true Christians: yet is it a point for a wise man to cast
in his mind, whether the thing that you will war for, be of so great
value, that it will recompense the exceedingly great harms and loss of
your own people. If ye cannot do in every point as becometh a prince, yet
at the leastways do as the merchantman doeth: he setteth naught by that
loss, which he well perceiveth cannot be avoided without a greater loss,
and he reckoneth it a winning, that fortune hath been against him with his
so little loss. Or else at the leastwise follow him, of whom there is a
merry tale commonly told.

There were two kinsmen at variance about dividing of certain goods, and
when they could by no means agree, they must go to law together, that in
conclusion the matter might be ended by sentence of the judges. They got
them attorneys, the pleas were drawn, men of law had the matter in hand,
they came before the judges, the complaint was entered, the cause was
pleaded, and so was the war begun between them. Anon one of them
remembering himself, called aside his adversary to him and said on this
wise: "First it were a great shame, that a little money should dissever us
twain, whom Nature hath knit so near together. Secondly, the end of our
strife is uncertain, no less than of war. It is in our hands to begin when
we will, but not to make an end. All our strife is but for an hundred
crowns, and we shall spend the double thereof upon notaries, upon
promoters, upon advocates, upon attorneys, upon judges, and upon judges'
friends, if we try the law to the uttermost. We must wait upon these men,
we must flatter and speak them fair, we must give them rewards. And yet I
speak not of the care and thought, nor of the great labour and travail,
that we must take to run about here and there to make friends; and which
of us two that winneth the victory, shall be sure of more incommodity than
profit. Wherefore if we be wise, let us rather see to our own profit, and
the money that shall be evil bestowed upon these bribers, let us divide it
between us twain. And forgive you the half of that ye think should be your
due, and I will forgive as much of mine. And so shall we keep and
preserve our friendship, which else is like to perish, and we shall also
eschew this great business, cost, and charge. If you be not content to
forgo anything of your part, I commit the whole matter into your own
hands; do with it as you will. For I had liefer my friend had this money,
than those insatiable thieves. Methinks I have gained enough, if I may
save my good name, keep my friend, and avoid this unquiet and chargeable
business. " Thus partly the telling of the truth, and partly the merry
conceit of his kinsman, moved the other man to agree. So they ended the
matter between themselves, to the great displeasure of the judges and
servants, for they, like a sort of gaping ravens, were deluded and put
beside their prey.

Let a prince therefore follow the wisdom of these two men, specially in a
matter of much more danger. Nor let him not regard what thing it is that
he would obtain, but what great loss of good things he shall have, in what
great jeopardies he shall be, and what miseries he must endure, to come
thereby. Now if a man will weigh, as it were in a pair of balances, the
commodities of war on the one side and the incommodities on the other
side, he shall find that unjust peace is far better than righteous war.
Why had we rather have war than peace? Who but a madman will angle with a
golden fish-hook? If ye see that the charges and expenses shall amount
far above your gain, yea, though all things go according to your mind, is
it not better that ye forgo part of your right than to buy so little
commodity with so innumerable mischiefs? I had liefer that any other man
had the title, than I should win it with so great effusion of Christian
men's blood. He (whosoever he be) hath now been many years in possession;
he is accustomed to rule, his subjects know him, he behaveth him like a
prince; and one shall come forth, who, finding an old title in some
histories or in some blind evidence, will turn clean upside down the quiet
state and good order of that commonweal. What availeth it with so great
troubling to change any title, which in short space by one chance or other
must go to another man? Specially since we might see, that no things in
this world continue still in one state, but at the scornful pleasure of
fortune they roll to and fro, as the waves of the sea. Finally, if
Christian men cannot despise and set at naught these so light things, yet
whereto need they by and by to run to arms? Since there be so many
bishops, men of great gravity and learning; since there be so many
venerable abbots; since there be so many noble men of great age, whom long
use and experience of things hath made right wise: why are not these
trifling and childish quarrels of princes pacified and set in order by the
wisdom and discretion of these men? But they seem to make a very honest
reason of war, which pretend as they would defend the Church: as though
the people were not the Church, or as though the Church of Christ was
begun, augmented, and stablished with wars and slaughters, and not rather
in spilling of the blood of martyrs, sufferance, and despising of this
life, or as though the whole dignity of the Church rested in the riches of
the priests. Nor to me truly it seemeth not so allowable, that we should
so oft make war upon the Turks. Doubtless it were not well with the
Christian religion, if the only safeguard thereof should depend on such
succours. Nor it is not likely, that they should be good Christians, that
by these means are brought thereto at the first. For that thing that is
got by war, is again in another time lost by war. Will ye bring the Turks
to the faith of Christ? Let us not make a show of our gay riches, nor of
our great number of soldiers, nor of our great strength. Let them see in
us none of these solemn titles, but the assured tokens of Christian men: a
pure, innocent life; a fervent desire to do well, yea, to our very
enemies; the despising of money, the neglecting of glory, a poor simple
life. Let them hear the heavenly doctrine agreeable to such a manner of
life. These are the best armours to subdue the Turks to Christ. Now
oftentimes we, being ill, fight with the evil. Yea, and I shall say
another thing (which I would to God were more boldly spoken than truly),
if we set aside the title and sign of the Cross, we fight Turks against
Turks. If our religion were first stablished by the might and strength of
men of war, if it were confirmed by dint of sword, if it were augmented by
war, then let us maintain it by the same means and ways. But if all things
in our faith were brought to pass by other means, why do we, then (as we
mistrusted the help of Christ), seek such succour as the heathen people
use? But why should we not (say they) kill them that would kill us? So
think they it a great dishonour, if other should be more mischievous than
they. Why do ye not, then, rob those that have robbed you before? Why do
ye not scold and chide at them that rail at you? Why do ye not hate them
that hate you? Trow ye it is a good Christian man's deed to slay a Turk?
For be the Turks never so wicked, yet they are men, for whose salvation
Christ suffered death. And killing Turks we offer to the devil most
pleasant sacrifice, and with that one deed we please our enemy, the devil,
twice: first because a man is slain, and again, because a Christian man
slew him. There be many, which desiring to seem good Christian men, study
to hurt and grieve the Turks all that ever they may; and where they be not
able to do anything, they curse and ban, and bid a mischief upon them. Now
by the same one point a man may perceive, that they be far from good
Christian men. Succour the Turks, and where they be wicked, make them good
if ye can; if ye cannot, wish and desire of God they may have grace to
turn to goodness. And he that thus doeth, I will say doeth like a
Christian man. But of all these things I shall entreat more largely, when
I set forth my book entitled Antipolemus, which whilom when I was at Rome
I wrote to Julius, bishop of Rome, the second of that name, at the same
time, when he was counselled to make war on the Venetians.

But there is one thing which is more to be lamented then reasoned: That if
a man would diligently discuss the matter, he shall find that all the wars
among us Christian men do spring either of foolishness, or else of malice.
Some young men without experience, inflamed with the evil examples of
their forefathers, that they find by reading of histories, written of some
foolish authors (and besides this being moved with the exhortations of
flatterers, with the instigation of lawyers, and assenting thereto of the
divines, the bishops winking thereat, or peradventure enticing thereunto),
have rather of foolhardiness than of malice, gone in hand with war; and
with the great hurt and damage of all this world they learn, that war is a
thing that should be by all means and ways fled and eschewed.
Some other
are moved by privy hatred, ambition causeth some, and some are stirred by
fierceness of mind to make war. For truly there is almost now no other
thing in our cities and commonweals than is contained in Homer's work
Iliad, The wrath of indiscreet princes and people.

There be those who for no other cause stir up war but to the intent they
may by that means the more easily exercise tyranny on their subjects. For
in the time of peace, the authority of the council, the dignity of the
rulers, the vigour and strength of the laws, do somewhat hinder, that a
prince cannot do all that him listeth; but as soon as war is once begun,
now all the handling of matters resteth in the pleasure of a few persons.
They that the prince favoureth are lifted up aloft, and they that be in
his displeasure, go down. They exact as much money as pleaseth them. What
need many words? Then they think themselves, that they be the greatest
princes of the world. In the meantime the captains sport and play
together, till they have gnawed the poor people to the hard bones. And
think ye that it will grieve them, that be of this mind, to enter lightly
into war, when any cause is offered? Besides all this, it is worth while
to see by what means we colour our fault. I pretend the defence of our
religion, but my mind is to get the great riches that the Turk hath. Under
colour to defend the Church's right, I purpose to revenge the hatred that
I have in my stomach. I incline to ambition, I follow my wrath; my cruel,
fierce and unbridled mind compelleth me; and yet will I find a cavillation
and say, the league is not kept, or friendship is broken, or something
(I wot not what myself) concerning the laws of matrimony is omitted. And
it is a wonder to speak, how they never obtain the very thing that they so
greatly desire. And while they foolishly labour to eschew this mischief or
that, they fall into another much worse, or else deeper into the same. And
surely if desire of glory causeth them thus to do, it is a thing much more
magnificent and glorious to save than to destroy; much more gay and goodly
to build a city than to overthrow and destroy a city.

Furthermore admit that the victory in battle is got most prosperously, yet
how small a portion of the glory shall go unto the prince: the commons
will claim a great part of it, by the help of whose money the deed was
done; foreign soldiers, that are hired for money, will challenge much more
than the commons; the captains look to have very much of that glory; and
fortune has the most of all, which striking a great stroke in every
matter, in war may do most of all. If it come of a noble courage or stout
stomach, that you be moved to make war: see, I pray you, how far wide ye
be from your purpose. For while ye will not be seen to bow to one man, as
to a prince your neighbour, peradventure of your alliance, who may by
fortune have done you good: how much more abjectly must ye bow yourself,
what time ye seek aid and help of barbarous people; yea, and, what is more
unworthy, of such men as are defiled with all mischievous deeds, if we
must needs call such kind of monsters men? Meanwhile ye go about to allure
unto you with fair words and promises, ravishers of virgins and of
religious women, men-killers, stout robbers and rovers (for these be thy
special men of war). And while you labour to be somewhat cruel and
superior over your equal, you are constrained to submit yourselves to the
very dregs of all men living. And while ye go about to drive your
neighbour out of his land, ye must needs first bring into your own land
the most pestilent puddle of unthrifts that can be. You mistrust a prince
of your own alliance, and will you commit yourself wholly to an armed
multitude? How much surer were it to commit yourself to concord!

If ye will make war because of lucre, take your counters and cast. And I
will say, it is better to have war than peace, if ye find not, that not
only less, but also uncertain winning is got with inestimable costs.

Ye say ye make war for the safeguard of the commonweal, yea, but noway
sooner nor more unthriftily may the commonweal perish than by war. For
before ye enter into the field, ye have already hurt more your country
than ye can do good getting the victory. Ye waste the citizens' goods, ye
fill the houses with lamentation, ye fill all the country with thieves,
robbers, and ravishers. For these are the relics of war. And whereas
before ye might have enjoyed all France, ye shut yourselves from many
regions thereof. If ye love your own subjects truly, why revolve you not
in mind these words: Why shall I put so many, in their lusty, flourishing
youth, in all mischiefs and perils? Why shall I depart so many honest
wives and their husbands, and make so many fatherless children? Why shall
I claim a title I know not, and a doubtful right, with spilling of my
subjects' blood? We have seen in our time, that in war made under colour
of defence of the Church, the priests have been so often pillaged with
contributions, that no enemy might do more. So that while we go about
foolishly to escape falling in the ditch, while we cannot suffer a light
injury, we afflict ourselves with most grievous despites. While we be
ashamed of gentleness to bow to a prince, we be fain to please people most
base. While we indiscreetly covet liberty, we entangle ourselves in most
grievous bondage. While we hunt after a little lucre, we grieve ourselves
and ours with inestimable harness. It had been a point of a prudent
Christian man (if he be a true Christian man) by all manner of means to
have fled, to have shunned, and by prayer to have withstood so fiendish a
thing, and so far both from the life and doctrine of Christ. But if it can
by no means be eschewed, by reason of the ungraciousness of many men, when
ye have essayed every way, and that ye have for peace sake left no stone
unturned, then the next way is, that ye do your diligence that so ill a
thing may be gested and done by them that be evil, and that it be achieved
with as little effusion of man's blood as can be.

Now if we endeavour to be the selfsame thing that we hear ourselves
called,--that is, good Christian men,--we shall little esteem any worldly
thing, nor yet ambitiously covet anything of this world. For if we set all
our mind, that we may lightly and purely part hence; if we incline wholly
to heavenly things; if we pitch all our felicity in Christ alone; if we
believe all that is truly good, truly gay and glorious, truly joyful, to
remain in Christ alone; if we thoroughly think that a godly man can of no
man be hurt; if we ponder how vain and vanishing are the scornful things
of this world; if we inwardly behold how hard a thing it is for a man to
be in a manner transformed into a god, and so here, with continual and
indefatigable meditation, to be purged from all infections of this world,
that within a while the husk of this body being cast off, it may pass
hence to the company of angels; finally, if we surely have these three
things, without which none is worthy of the name of a Christian
man,--Innocency, that we may be pure from all vices; Charity, that we may
do good, as near as we can, to every man; Patience, that we may suffer
them that do us ill, and, if we can, with good deeds overcome wrongs to us
done: I pray you, what war can there be among us for trifles? If it be
but a tale that is told of Christ, why do we not openly put him out of our
company? Why should we glory in his title? But if he be, as he is in very
deed, the true way, the very truth, and the very life, why doth all the
manner of our living differ so far asunder from the true example of him?
If we acknowledge and take Christ for our author, which is very Charity,
and neither taught nor gave other thing but charity and peace, then go to,
let us not in titles and signs, but in our deeds and living, plainly
express him. Let us have in our hearts a fervent desire of peace, that
Christ may again know us for his. To this intent the princes, the
prelates, and the cities and commonalties should apply their counsels.
There hath been hitherto enough spilt of Christian man's blood. We have
showed pleasure enough to the enemies of the Christian religion. And if
the common people, as they are wont, make any disturbance, let the princes
bridle and quail them, which princes ought to be the selfsame thing in the
commonweal that the eye is in the body, and the reason in the soul. Again,
if the princes make any trouble, it is the part of good prelates by their
wisdom and gravity to pacify and assuage such commotion. Or else, at the
least, we being satiate with continual wars, let the desire of peace a
little move us. The bishop exhorteth us (if ever any bishop did Leo the
Tenth doth, which occupieth the room of our peaceable Solomon, for all his
desire, all his intent and labour, is for this intent) that they whom
one common faith hath coupled together, should be joined in one common
concord. He laboureth that the Church of Christ should flourish, not in
riches or lordships, but in her own proper virtues. Surely this is a right
goodly act, and well beseeming a man descended of such a noble lineage as
the Medici: by whose civil prudence the noble city of Florence most
freshly flourished in long-continued peace; whose house of Medici hath
been a help unto all good letters. Leo himself, having alway a sober and a
gentle wit, giving himself from his tender youth to good letters of
humanity, was ever brought up, as it were, in the lap of the Muses, among
men most highly learned. He so faultless led his life, that even in the
city of Rome, where is most liberty of vice, was of him no evil rumour,
and so governing himself came to the dignity to be bishop there, which
dignity he never coveted, but was chosen thereto when he least thought
thereon, by the provision of God to help to redress things in great decay
by long wars. Let Julius the bishop have his glory of war, victories, and
of his great triumphs, the which how evil they beseem a Christian bishop,
it is not for such a one as I am to declare. I will this say, his glory,
whatsoever it be, was mixed with the great destruction and grievous sorrow
of many a creature. But by peace restored now to the world, Leo shall get
more true glory than Julius won by so many wars that he either boldly
begun, or prosperously fought and achieved.

But they that had liefer hear of proverbs, than either of peace or of war,
will think that I have tarried longer about this digression than is meet
for the declaration of a proverb.

The Colloquies of Erasmus.

TRANSLATED BY N. BAILEY.

_Edited, with Notes, by the Rev. E. Johnson, M. A. _

VOL. I.

LONDON: 1878.




CONTENTS.

VOL. I.

_Prefatory Note_
_Dedication_
_Admonitory Note_
_To the Divines of_ Louvain
_Copy of_ Bailey's _Title_
Bailey's _Preface_
_Life of_ Erasmus
_Courtesy in Saluting_
_Family Discourse_
_Of Rash Vows_
_Of Benefice-Hunters_
_Of a Soldier's Life_
_The Commands of a Master_
_The School-master's Admonitions_
_Of Various Plays_
_The Child's Piety_
_The Art of Hunting_
_Scholastic Studies_
_The Profane Feast_
_The Religious Treat_
_The Apotheosis of_ Capnio
_A Lover and Maiden_
_The Virgin Averse to Matrimony_
_The Penitent Virgin_
_The Uneasy Wife_
_The Soldier and Carthusian_
Philetymus _and_ Pseudocheus
_The Shipwreck_
_Diversoria_
_Young Man and Harlot_
_The Poetical Feast_
_An Enquiry concerning Faith_
_The Old Mens Dialogue_
_The Franciscans,_ [Greek: Ptôchoplousioi], _or Rich Beggars_
_The Abbot and Learned Woman_
_The Epithalamium of Petrus Ægidius_
_The Exorcism or Apparition_
_The Alchymist_
_The Horse-Cheat_
_The Beggars' Dialogue_
_The Fabulous Feast_
_The Lying-in Woman_




Prefatory Note.

The present English version of Erasmus' _Colloquies_ is a reprint of the
translation of N. Bailey, the compiler of a well-known Dictionary. In
his Preface Bailey says, "I have labour'd to give such a Translation as
might in the general, be capable of being compar'd with the Original,
endeavouring to avoid running into a paraphrase: but keeping as close to
the original as I could, without Latinizing and deviating from the
English Idiom, and so depriving the English reader of that pleasure that
Erasmus so plentifully entertains his reader with in Latin. "

This is a modest and fair account of Bailey's work. The chief
peculiarity of his version is its reproduction of the idiomatic and
proverbial Latinisms, and generally of the classical phrases and
allusions in which Erasmus abounds, in corresponding or analogous
English forms. Bailey had acquired, perhaps from his lexicographical
studies, a great command of homely and colloquial English; the words and
phrases by which he frequently _represents_ rather than construes
Erasmus' text have perhaps in many instances not less piquancy than the
original. Thus his translation, as a piece of racy English, has a
certain independent value of its own, and may be read with interest even
by those who are familiar with the original.

In preparing this volume for the press, Bailey's text has been carefully
revised, and clerical errors have been corrected, but the liberty has
not been taken of altering his language, even to the extent of removing
the coarsenesses of expression which disfigure the book and in which he
exaggerates the plain speaking of the original. Literary feeling is
jealous, no doubt justly, on general grounds, of expurgations.

Further, throughout the greater part of the work, the translation has
been closely compared with the Latin original. Occasional inaccuracies
on Bailey's part have been pointed out in the Appendix of Notes at the
end of the volume. The literal sense of the original, sometimes its
language, has in many of these notes been given, with the view of
increasing the interest of perusal to the general reader. The remainder
of the notes are, like the contents of the volume, of a miscellaneous
character: philological, antiquarian, historical. They do not, of
course, profess to supply an exhaustive commentary; but are designed to
afford elucidations and illustrations of the text that may be
intelligible and instructive to the English reader, and possibly to some
extent to the scholar.

The Colloquies of Erasmus form a rich quarry of intellectual material,
from which each student will extract that which he regards to be of
peculiar value. The linguist, the antiquary, the observer of life and
manners, the historian, the moralist, the theologian may all find
themselves attracted to these pages. It is hoped that there are many who
at the present time will welcome the republication, in English, of a
book which not only produced so great a sensation in Europe on its
appearance, but may be said to have had something to do with the making
of history.

It is unnecessary to do more than refer to the fact that the Editor
undertook his task under certain inconveniences, and limitations as to
space and time, which have prevented him from satisfying his own idea of
what the book should be. He trusts it will not be found wanting in
accuracy, however falling short of completeness.

The Latin text used has been that of P. Scriver's edition, printed by
the Elzevirs. 1643. A translation of Erasmus' dedication to young Froben
has been added; also of several pieces from the _Coronis Apologetica_,
not given by Bailey, which contain matters of interest bearing upon the
history or contents of the book.




DEDICATION.


_D. ERASMUS_ Rot.

TO

_JOHN ERASMIUS FROBEN_,

_A Boy of Excellent Promise: Greeting. _


The Book dedicated to you has surpassed my expectation, my dearest
Erasmius: it will be your part to take care that _you_ do not disappoint
my expectation. Our studious youth are so in love with the book, seize
upon it so eagerly, handle it so constantly, that your father has had
repeatedly to print it, and I to enrich it with new additions. You might
say it too was an [Greek: herasmion], the delight of the Muses, who
foster sacred things. It will be the more your endeavour that you also
may be what you are called, that is, that you may be, by learning and
probity of manners, "most endeared" to all good men. It were deep cause
for shame, if, while this book has rendered so many both better Latin
scholars and better men, you should so act that the same use and profit
should not return to yourself, which by your means has come to all. And
since there are so many young fellows, who thank you for the sake of the
Colloquies, would it not be justly thought absurd, if through your fault
the fact should seem that you could not thank me on the same account?
The little book has increased to the fair size of a volume. You must
also endeavour, in proportion as your age increases, to improve in sound
learning and integrity of manners. No ordinary hopes are placed upon
you: it is indispensable that you should answer to them; it would be
glorious for you to surpass them; disappoint them you surely cannot
without the greatest disgrace. Nor do I say this, because your course
thus far gives me occasion for regret, but by way of spurring the
runner, that you may run more nimbly; especially since you have arrived
at an age, than which none happier occurs in the course of life for
imbibing the seeds of letters and of piety. Act then in such a way, that
these Colloquies may be truly called yours.

The Lord Jesus keep the present season of your life pure from all
pollutions, and ever lead you on to better things! Farewell.

BASIL, _August 1st. _, 1524.




AN ADMONITORY NOTE OF ERASMUS ON THE TRICKS AND IMPOSTURES OF A CERTAIN
DOMINICAN, WHO HAD PUBLISHED IN FRANCE THE COLLOQUIES OF ERASMUS
RIDICULOUSLY INTERPOLATED BY HIMSELF.

_A Book of Colloquies had appeared, the material of which was collected
partly from domestic talks, partly from my papers; but with a mixture of
certain trivialities, not only without sense, but also in bad
Latin,--perfect solecisms. This trash was received with wonderful
applause; for in these matters too Fortune has her sport. I was
compelled therefore to lay hands on these trumperies. At length, having
applied somewhat greater care, I added considerable matter, so that the
book might be of fair size, and in fact might appear worthy even of the
honour of being dedicated to John Erasmius, son of Froben, a boy then
six years old, but of extraordinary natural ability. This was done in
the year 1522. But the nature of this work is such, that it receives
addition as often as it is revised. Accordingly I frequently made an
addition for the sake of the studious, and of John Froben; but so
tempered the subject-matters, that besides the pleasure of reading, and
their use in polishing the style, they might also contain that which
would conduce to the formation of character. Even while the book I have
referred to contained nothing but mere rubbish, it was read with
wonderful favour by all. But when it had gained a richer utility, it
could not escape [Greek: tôn sykophantôn dêgmata]. A certain divine of
Louvain, frightfully blear of eye, but still more of mind, saw in it
four heretical passages. There was also another incident connected with
this work worth relating. It was lately printed at Paris with certain
passages corrected, that is to say, corrupted, which appeared to attack
monks, vows, pilgrimages, indulgences, and other things of that kind
which, if held in great esteem among the people, would be a source of
more plentiful profit to gentlemen of that order. But he did this so
stupidly, so clumsily, that you would swear he had been some street
buffoon: although the author of so silly a piece is said to be a certain
divine of the Dominican order, by nation a Saxon. Of what avail is it to
add his name and surname, which he himself does not desire to have
suppressed? A monster like him knows not what shame is; he would rather
look for praise from his villany. This rogue added a new Preface in my
name, in which he represented three men sweating at the instruction of
one boy: Capito, who taught him Hebrew, Beatus Greek, and me, Latin. He
represents me as inferior to each of the others alike in learning and in
piety; intimating that there is in the Colloquies a sprinkling of
certain matters which savour of Luther's dogmas. And here I know that
some will chuckle, when they read that Capito is favoured by such a
hater of Luther with the designation of an excellent and most
accomplished man. These and many things of the like kind he represents
me as saying, taking the pattern of his effrontery from a letter of
Jerome, who complains that his rivals had circulated a forged letter
under his name amongst a synod of bishops in Africa; in which he was
made to confess that, deceived by certain Jews, he had falsely
translated the Old Testament from the Hebrew. And they would have
succeeded in persuading the bishops that the letter was Jerome's, had
they been able in any tolerable degree, to imitate Jerome's style.
Although Jerome speaks of this deed as one of extreme and incurable
roguery, our Phormio takes peculiar delight in this, which is more
rascally than any notorious book. But his malicious will was wanting in
power to carry out what he had intended. He could not come up to
Erasmus' style, unpolished though it be: for he thus closes his flowery
preface:_ Thus age has admonished, piety has bidden me, while life is
still spared in my burdensome age, to cleanse my writings, lest those
who follow my mournful funeral should transcribe my departed soul!

_Such being the man's style throughout, he has nevertheless not shrunk
from interweaving his flowers with my crowns; either pleasing himself in
a most senseless manner, or having a very ill opinion of the judgment of
divines. For these things were composed for their benefit, all of whom
he supposes to be such blockheads that they will not instantly detect
the patch-work he has so awkwardly sewn together. So abjectly does he
everywhere flatter France, Paris, the theologians, the Sorbonne, the
Colleges, no beggar could be more cringing. Accordingly, if anything
uncomplimentary seems to be said against the French, he transfers it to
the British; or against Paris, he turns it off to London. He added some
odious sayings as if coming from me, with the view of stirring up hatred
against me amongst those by whom he is grieved to know me beloved. It is
needless to dwell upon the matter. Throughout he curtails, makes
additions, alterations after his fashion, like a sow smeared with mud,
rolling herself in a strange garden, bespattering, disturbing, rooting
up everything. Meanwhile, he does not perceive that the points made by
me are quite lost. For example, when to one who says_, 'From a Dutchman
you are turned into a Gaul,'[A] _the answer is made_, 'What? was I a
Capon then, when I went hence? ': _he alters_ 'From a Dutchman you are
turned into a Briton. What? was I a Saxon, then, when I went hence? '
_Again, when the same speaker had said_, 'Your garb shows that you are
changed from a Batavian into a Gaul,' _he puts_ 'Briton' _for_ 'Gaul';
_and when the speaker had replied_, 'I had rather that metamorphosis,
than into a Hen,' _alluding to_ 'Cock:' _he changed_ 'Hen' _into_
'Bohemian. ' _Presently, when there is a joke_, 'that he pronounces Latin
in French style,' _he changes_ 'French' _into_ 'British,' _and yet
allows the following to stand_, 'Then you will never make good verses,
because you have lost your quantities'; _and this does not apply to the
British. Again, when my text reads_, 'What has happened to the Gauls'
_(cocks)_ 'that they should wage war with the Eagle? ' _he thus spoils
the joke_, 'What has happened to the pards, that they should go to war
with the lilies? _as if lilies were in the habit of going forth to war.
Occasionally he does not perceive that what follows his alterations does
not hang together with them. As in the very passage I had written_, 'Is
Paris free from the plague? ' _he alters_, 'Is London free[B] from the
plague? ' _Again, in another place, where one says_, 'Why are we afraid
to cut up this capon? ' _he changes_ 'capon' _into_ 'hare'; _yet makes no
alteration in what follows_, 'Do you prefer wing or leg? ' _Forsooth,
although he so kindly favours the Dominican interest that he desired to
sit among the famous Commissaries: nevertheless he bears with equal mind
a cruel attack on Scotus. For he made no change in what one says in my
text_, 'I would sooner let the whole of Scotus perish than the books of
one Cicero. ' _But as these things are full of folly, so very many of the
contents bear an equal malice joined to folly. A speaker in my text
rallies his comrade, who, although of abandoned life, nevertheless puts
faith in indulgentiary bulls. My Corrector makes the former confess that
he, along with his master Luther, was of opinion that the Pope's
indulgences were of no value; presently he represents the same speaker
as recanting and professing penitence for his error. And these he wants
to appear my corrections. O wondrous Atlases of faith! This is just as
if one should feign, by means of morsels dipped in blood, a wound in the
human body, and presently, by removing what he had supplied, should cure
the wound. In my text a boy says_, 'that the confession which is made to
God is the best;' _he made a correction, asserting_ 'that the confession
which is made to the priest is the best. ' _Thus did he take care for
imperilled confession. I have referred to this one matter for the sake
of example, although he frequently indulges in tricks of this kind. And
these answer to the palinode (recantation) which he promises in my name
in his forged preface. As if it were any man's business to sing a
palinode for another's error; or as if anything that is said in that
work of mine under any character whatever, were my own opinion. For it
does not at all trouble me, that he represents a man not yet sixty, as
burdened with old age. Formerly, it was a capital offence to publish
anything under another man's name; now, to scatter rascalities of this
kind amongst the public, under the pretended name of the very man who is
slandered, is the sport of divines. For he wishes to appear a divine
when his matter cries out that he does not grasp a straw of theological
science. I have no doubt but that yonder thief imposed with his lies
upon his starved printer; for I do not think there is a man so mad as to
be willing knowingly to print such ignorant trash. I ceased to wonder at
the incorrigible effrontery of the fellow, after I learnt that he was a
chick who once upon a time fell out of a nest at Berne, entirely [Greek:
hek kakistou korakost kakiston hôon]. This I am astonished at, if the
report is true: that there are among the Parisian divines those who
pride themselves on having at length secured a man who by the
thunderbolt of his eloquence is to break asunder the whole party of
Luther and restore the church to its pristine tranquility. For he wrote
also against Luther as I hear. And then the divines complain that they
are slandered by me, who aid their studies in so many night-watches;
while they themselves willingly embrace monsters of this description,
who bring more dishonour to the order of divines and even of monks,
than any foe, however foul-mouthed, can do. He who has audacity for such
an act as this, will not hesitate to employ fire or poison. And these
things are printed at Paris, where it is unlawful to print even the
Gospel, unless approved by the opinion of the faculty.

This last work of the Colloquies, with the addition of an appendix, is
issued in the month of September, 1524. _


[Footnote A: Gallus: meaning also a Cock. ]

[Footnote B: _Immunis_ instead of _immune_ agreeing with Londinum. ]


* * * * *

_From a letter of Erasmus dated 5th Oct. 1532, we gather some further
particulars about the obnoxious person above referred to. His name was
Lambert Campester. Subsequently to his exploit at Paris in printing a
garbled edition of the Colloquies, he "fled to Leyden; and pretending to
be a great friend of Erasmus, found a patron, from whom having soon
stolen 300 crowns, fled, was taken in his flight amongst some girls, and
would have been nailed to a cross, had not his sacred Dominican cowl
saved him. He, I say, many other offences and crimes having been proved
against him, is at length in a certain town of Germany, called, I think,
Zorst, in the Duchy of Juliers,--his cowl thrown aside, teaching the
Gospel, that is, mere sedition. The Duke begged them to turn the fellow
out. They answered that they could not do without their preacher. And
this sort of plague spreads from day to day.