No More Learning

And there is agreement among poisonous
serpents. But unto man there is no wild or cruel beast more hurtful than
man.

Again, when the brute beasts fight, they fight with their own natural
armour: we men, above nature, to the destruction of men, arm ourselves
with armour, invented by craft of the devil. Nor the wild beasts are not
cruel for every cause; but either when hunger maketh them fierce, or else
when they perceive themselves to be hunted and pursued to the death, or
else when they fear lest their younglings should take any harm or be
stolen from them. But (O good Lord) for what trifling causes what
tragedies of war do we stir up? For most vain titles, for childish wrath,
for a wench, yea, and for causes much more scornful than these, we be
inflamed to fight.

Moreover, when the brute beasts fight, then war is one for one, yea, and
that is very short. And when the battle is sorest fought, yet is there not
past one or two, that goeth away sore wounded. When was it ever heard that
an hundred thousand brute beasts were slain at one time fighting and
tearing one another: which thing men do full oft and in many places? And
besides this, whereas some wild beasts have natural debate with some other
that be of a contrary kind, so again there be some with which they
lovingly agree in a sure amity. But man with man, and each with other,
have among them continual war; nor is there league sure enough among any
men. So that whatsoever it be, that hath gone out of kind, it hath gone
out of kind into a worse fashion, than if Nature herself had engendered
therein a malice at the beginning.

Will ye see how beastly, how foul, and how unworthy a thing war is for
man? Did ye never behold a lion let loose unto a bear? What gapings, what
roarings, what grisly gnashing, what tearing of their flesh, is there? He
trembleth that beholdeth them, yea, though he stand sure and safe enough
from them. But how much more grisly a sight is it, how much more
outrageous and cruel, to behold man to fight with man, arrayed with so
much armour, and with so many weapons? I beseech you, who would believe
that they were men, if it were not because war is a thing so much in
custom that no man marvelleth at it? Their eyes glow like fire, their
faces be pale, their marching forth is like men in a fury, their voice
screeching and grunting, their cry and frenzied clamour; all is iron,
their harness and weapons jingling and clattering, and the guns
thundering. It might have been better suffered, if man, for lack of meat
and drink, should have fought with man, to the intent he might devour his
flesh and drink his blood: albeit, it is come also now to that pass, that
some there be that do it more of hatred than either for hunger or for
thirst. But now this same thing is done more cruelly, with weapons
envenomed, and with devilish engines. So that nowhere may be perceived any
token of man. Trow ye that Nature could here know it was the same thing,
that she sometime had wrought with her own hands? And if any man would
inform her, that it were man that she beheld in such array, might she not
well, with great wondering, say these words?

"What new manner of pageant is this that I behold? What devil of hell hath
brought us forth this monster. There be some that call me a stepmother,
because that among so great heaps of things of my making I have brought
forth some venomous things (and yet have I ordained the selfsame venomous
things for man's behoof); and because I have made some beasts very fierce
and perilous: and yet is there no beast so wild nor so perilous, but that
by craft and diligence he may be made tame and gentle. By man's diligent
labour the lions have been made tame, the dragons meek, and the bears
obedient. But what is this, that worse is than any stepmother, which hath
brought us forth this new unreasonable brute beast, the pestilence and
mischief of all this world? One beast alone I brought forth wholly
dedicate to be benevolent, pleasant, friendly, and wholesome to all other.
What hath chanced, that this creature is changed into such a brute beast?
I perceive nothing of the creature man, which I myself made. What evil
spirit hath thus defiled my work? What witch hath bewitched the mind of
man, and transformed it into such brutishness? What sorceress hath thus
turned him out of his kindly shape? I command and would that the wretched
creature should behold himself in a glass. But, alas, what shall the eyes
see, where the mind is away? Yet behold thyself (if thou canst), thou
furious warrior, and see if thou mayst by any means recover thyself again.
From whence hast thou that threatening crest upon thy head? From whence
hast thou that shining helmet? From whence are those iron horns? Whence
cometh it, that thine elbows are so sharp and piked? Where hadst thou
those scales? Where hadst thou those brazen teeth? Of whence are those
hard plates? Whence are those deadly weapons? From whence cometh to thee
this voice more horrible than of a wild beast? What a look and countenance
hast thou more terrible than of a brute beast? Where hast thou gotten this
thunder and lightning, both more fearful and hurtful than is the very
thunder and lightning itself? I formed thee a goodly creature; what came
into thy mind, that thou wouldst thus transform thyself into so cruel and
so beastly fashion, that there is no brute beast so unreasonable in
comparison unto man? "

These words, and many other such like, I suppose, the Dame Nature, the
worker of all things, would say. Then since man is such as is showed
before that he is, and that war is such a thing, like as too oft we have
felt and known, it seemeth to me no small wonder, what ill spirit, what
disease, or what mishap, first put into man's mind, that he would bathe
his mortal weapon in the blood of man. It must needs be, that men mounted
up to so great madness by divers degrees. For there was never man yet (as
Juvenal saith) that was suddenly most graceless of all. And always things
the worst have crept in among men's manners of living, under the shadow
and shape of goodness. For some time those men that were in the beginning
of the world led their lives in woods; they went naked, they had no walled
towns, nor houses to put their heads in: it happened otherwhile that they
were sore grieved and destroyed with wild beasts. Wherefore with them
first of all, men made war, and he was esteemed a mighty strong man, and a
captain, that could best defend mankind from the violence of wild beasts.
Yea, and it seemed to them a thing most equable to strangle the
stranglers, and to slay the slayers, namely, when the wild beast, not
provoked by us for any hurt to them done, would wilfully set upon us. And
so by reason that this was counted a thing most worthy of praise (for
hereof it rose that Hercules was made a god), the lusty-stomached young
men began all about to hunt and chase the wild beasts, and as a token of
their valiant victory the skins of such beasts as they slew were set up in
such places as the people might behold them. Besides this they were not
contented to slay the wild beasts, but they used to wear their skins to
keep them from the cold in winter. These were the first slaughters that
men used: these were their spoils and robberies. After this, they went so
farforth, that they were bold to do a thing which Pythagoras thought to be
very wicked; and it might seem to us also a thing monstrous, if custom
were not, which hath so great strength in every place: that by custom it
was reputed in some countries a much charitable deed if a man would, when
his father was very old, first sore beat him, and after thrust him
headlong into a pit, and so bereave him of his life, by whom it chanced
him to have the gift of life. It was counted a holy thing for a man to
feed on the flesh of his own kinsmen and friends. They thought it a goodly
thing, that a virgin should be made common to the people in the temple of
Venus. And many other things, more abominable than these: of which if a
man should now but only speak, every man would abhor to hear him. Surely
there is nothing so ungracious, nor nothing so cruel, but men will hold
therewith, if it be once approved by custom. Then will ye hear, what a
deed they durst at the last do? They were not abashed to eat the carcases
of the wild beasts that were slain, to tear the unsavoury flesh with their
teeth, to drink the blood, to suck out the matter of them, and (as Ovid
saith) to hide the beasts' bowels within their own. And although at that
time it seemed to be an outrageous deed unto them that were of a more mild
and gentle courage: yet was it generally allowed, and all by reason of
custom and commodity. Yet were they not so content. For they went from the
slaying of noisome wild beasts, to kill the harmless beasts, and such as
did no hurt at all. They waxed cruel everywhere upon the poor sheep, a
beast without fraud or guile. They slew the hare, for none other offence,
but because he was a good fat dish of meat to feed upon. Nor they forbare
not to kill the tame ox, which had a long season, with his sore labour,
nourished the unkind household. They spared no kind of beasts, of fowls,
nor of fishes. Yea, and the tyranny of gluttony went so farforth that
there was no beast anywhere that could be sure from the cruelty of man.
Yea, and custom persuaded this also, that it seemed no cruelty at all to
slay any manner of beast, whatsoever it was, so they abstained from
manslaughter. Now peradventure it lieth in our power to keep out vices,
that they enter not upon the manners of men, in like manner as it lieth in
our power to keep out the sea, that it break not in upon us; but when the
sea is once broken in, it passeth our power to restrain it within any
bounds. So either of them both once let in, they will not be ruled, as we
would, but run forth headlong whithersoever their own rage carrieth them.
And so after that men had been exercised with such beginnings to
slaughter, wrath anon enticed man to set upon man, either with staff, or
with stone, or else with his fist. For as yet, I think they used no other
weapons. And now had they learned by the killing of beasts, that man also
might soon and easily be slain with little labour. But this cruelty
remained betwixt singular persons, so that yet there was no great number
of men that fought together, but as it chanced one man against another.
And besides this, there was no small colour of equity, if a man slew his
enemy; yea, and shortly after, it was a great praise to a man to slay a
violent and a mischievous man, and to rid him out of the world, such
devilish and cruel caitiffs, as men say Cacus and Busiris were. For we see
plainly, that for such causes, Hercules was greatly praised. And in
process of time, many assembled to take part together, either as affinity,
or as neighbourhood, or kindred bound them. And what is now robbery was
then war. And they fought then with stones, or with stakes, a little
burned at the ends. A little river, a rock, or such other like thing,
chancing to be between them, made an end of their battle.

In the mean season, while fierceness by use increaseth, while wrath is
grown great, and ambition hot and vehement, by ingenious craft they arm
their furious violence. They devise harness, such as it is, to fence them
with. They invent weapons to destroy their enemies with. Thus now by few
and few, now with greater company, and now armed they begin to fight. Nor
to this manifest madness they forget not to give honour. For they call it
Bellum, that is to say, a fair thing; yea, and they repute it a virtuous
deed, if a man, with the jeopardy of his own life, manly resist and defend
from the violence of his enemies, his wife, children, beasts, and
household. And by little and little, malice grew so great, with the high
esteeming of other things, that one city began to send defiance and make
war to another, country against country, and realm against realm. And
though the thing of itself was then most cruel, yet all this while there
remained in them certain tokens, whereby they might be known for men: for
such goods as by violence were taken away were asked and required again by
an herald at arms; the gods were called to witness; yea, and when they
were ranged in battle, they would reason the matter ere they fought. And
in the battle they used but homely weapons, nor they used neither guile
nor deceit, but only strength. It was not lawful for a man to strike his
enemy till the sign of battle was given; nor was it not lawful to fight
after the sounding of the retreat. And for conclusion, they fought more to
show their manliness and for praise, than they coveted to slay. Nor all
this while they armed them not, but against strangers, the which they
called hostes, as they had been hospites, their guests. Of this rose
empires, of the which there was never none yet in any nation, but it was
gotten with the great shedding of man's blood. And since that time there
hath followed continual course of war, while one eftsoons laboureth to put
another out of his empire, and to set himself in. After all this, when the
empires came once into their hands that were most ungracious of all other,
they made war upon whosoever pleased them; nor were they not in greatest
peril and danger of war that had most deserved to be punished, but they
that by fortune had gotten great riches. And now they made not war to get
praise and fame, but to get the vile muck of the world, or else some other
thing far worse than that.

I think not the contrary, but that the great, wise man Pythagoras meant
these things when he by a proper device of philosophy frightened the
unlearned multitude of people from the slaying of silly beasts. For he
perceived, it should at length come to pass, that he which (by no injury
provoked) was accustomed to spill the blood of a harmless beast, would in
his anger, being provoked by injury, not fear to slay a man.

War, what other thing else is it than a common manslaughter of many men
together, and a robbery, the which, the farther it sprawleth abroad, the
more mischievous it is? But many gross gentlemen nowadays laugh merrily at
these things, as though they were the dreams and dotings of schoolmen, the
which, saving the shape, have no point of manhood, yet seem they in their
own conceit to be gods. And yet of those beginnings, we see we be run so
far in madness, that we do naught else all our life-days. We war
continually, city with city, prince with prince, people with people, yea,
and (it that the heathen people confess to be a wicked thing) cousin with
cousin, alliance with alliance, brother with brother, the son with the
father, yea, and that I esteem more cruel than all these things, a
Christian man against another man; and yet furthermore, I will say that I
am very loath to do, which is a thing most cruel of all, one Christian man
with another Christian man. Oh, blindness of man's mind! at those things
no man marvelleth, no man abhorreth them. There be some that rejoice at
them, and praise them above the moon: and the thing which is more than
devilish, they call a holy thing. Old men, crooked for age, make war,
priests make war, monks go forth to war; yea, and with a thing so devilish
we mingle Christ. The battles ranged, they encounter the one the other,
bearing before them the sign of the Cross, which thing alone might at the
leastwise admonish us by what means it should become Christian men to
overcome.

But we run headlong each to destroy other, even from that heavenly
sacrifice of the altar, whereby is represented that perfect and ineffable
knitting together of all Christian men. And of so wicked a thing, we make
Christ both author and witness. Where is the kingdom of the devil, if it
be not in war? Why draw we Christ into war, with whom a brothel-house
agreeth more than war? Saint Paul disdaineth, that there should be any so
great discord among Christian men, that they should need any judge to
discuss the matter between them. What if he should come and behold us now
through all the world, warring for every light and trifling cause,
striving more cruelly than ever did any heathen people, and more cruelly
than any barbarous people? Yea, and ye shall see it done by the authority,
exhortations, and furtherings of those that represent Christ, the prince
of peace and very bishop that all things knitteth together by peace and of
those that salute the people with good luck of peace. Nor is it not
unknown to me what these unlearned people say (a good while since) against
me in this matter, whose winnings arise of the common evils. They say
thus: We make war against our wills: for we be constrained by the
ungracious deeds of other. We make war but for our right. And if there
come any hurt thereof, thank them that be causers of it. But let these men
hold their tongues awhile, and I shall after, in place convenient, avoid
all their cavillations, and pluck off that false visor wherewith we hide
all our malice.

But first as I have above compared man with war, that is to say, the
creature most demure with a thing most outrageous, to the intent that
cruelty might the better be perceived: so will I compare war and peace
together, the thing most wretched, and most mischievous, with the best and
most wealthy thing that is. And so at last shall appear, how great madness
it is, with so great tumult, with so great labours, with such intolerable
expenses, with so many calamities, affectionately to desire war: whereas
agreement might be bought with a far less price.

First of all, what in all this world is more sweet or better than amity or
love? Truly nothing. And I pray you, what other thing is peace than amity
and love among men, like as war on the other side is naught else but
dissension and debate of many men together? And surely the property of
good things is such, that the broader they be spread, the more profit and
commodity cometh of them. Farther, if the love of one singular person with
another be so sweet and delectable, how great should the felicity be if
realm with realm, and nation with nation, were coupled together, with the
band of amity and love? On the other side, the nature of evil things is
such, that the farther they sprawl abroad, the more worthy they are to be
called evil, as they be indeed. Then if it be a wretched thing, if it be
an ungracious thing, that one man armed should fight with another, how
much more miserable, how much more mischievous is it, that the selfsame
thing should be done with so many thousands together? By love and peace
the small things increase and wax great, by discord and debate the great
things decay and come to naught. Peace is the mother and nurse of all good
things. War suddenly and at once overthroweth, destroyeth, and utterly
fordoeth everything that is pleasant and fair, and bringeth in among men a
monster of all mischievous things.

In the time of peace (none otherwise than as if the lusty springtime
should show and shine in men's businesses) the fields are tilled, the
gardens and orchards freshly flourish, the beasts pasture merrily; gay
manours in the country are edified, the towns are builded, where as need
is reparations are done, the buildings are heightened and augmented,
riches increase, pleasures are nourished, the laws are executed, the
common wealth flourisheth, religion is fervent, right reigneth, gentleness
is used, craftsmen are busily exercised, the poor men's gain is more
plentiful, the wealthiness of the rich men is more gay and goodly, the
studies of most honest learnings flourish, youth is well taught, the aged
folks have quiet and rest, maidens are luckily married, mothers are
praised for bringing forth of children like to their progenitors, the good
men prosper and do well, and the evil men do less offence.

But as soon as the cruel tempest of war cometh on us, good Lord, how great
a flood of mischiefs occupieth, overfloweth, and drowneth all together.
The fair herds of beasts are driven away, the goodly corn is trodden down
and destroyed, the good husbandmen are slain, the villages are burned up,
the most wealthy cities, that have flourished so many winters, with that
one storm are overthrown, destroyed, and brought to naught: so much
readier and prompter men are to do hurt than good. The good citizens are
robbed and spoiled of their goods by cursed thieves and murderers. Every
place is full of fear, of wailing, complaining, and lamenting. The
craftsmen stand idle; the poor men must either die for hunger, or fall to
stealing. The rich men either stand and sorrow for their goods, that be
plucked and snatched from them, or else they stand in great doubt to lose
such goods as they have left them: so that they be on every side
woebegone. The maidens, either they be not married at all, or else if they
be married, their marriages are sorrowful and lamentable. Wives, being
destitute of their husbands, lie at home without any fruit of children,
the laws are laid aside, gentleness is laughed to scorn, right is clean
exiled, religion is set at naught, hallowed and unhallowed things all are
one, youth is corrupted with all manner of vices, the old folk wail and
weep, and wish themselves out of the world, there is no honour given unto
the study of good letters. Finally, there is no tongue can tell the harm
and mischief that we feel in war.

Perchance war might be the better suffered, if it made us but only
wretched and needy; but it maketh us ungracious, and also full of
unhappiness. And I think Peace likewise should be much made of, if it were
but only because it maketh us more wealthy and better in our living. Alas,
there be too many already, yea, and more than too many mischiefs and
evils, with the which the wretched life of man (whether he will or no) is
continually vexed, tormented, and utterly consumed.

It is near hand two thousand years since the physicians had knowledge of
three hundred divers notable sicknesses by name, besides other small
sicknesses and new, as daily spring among us, and besides age also, which
is of itself a sickness inevitable.

We read that in one place whole cities have been destroyed with
earthquakes. We read, also, that in another place there have been cities
altogether burnt with lightning; how in another place whole regions have
been swallowed up with opening of the earth, towns by undermining have
fallen to the ground; so that I need not here to remember what a great
multitude of men are daily destroyed by divers chances, which be not
regarded because they happen so often: as sudden breaking out of the sea
and of great floods, falling down of hills and houses, poison, wild
beasts, meat, drink, and sleep. One hath been strangled with drinking of a
hair in a draught of milk, another hath been choked with a little
grapestone, another with a fishbone sticking in his throat. There hath
been, that sudden joy hath killed out of hand: for it is less wonder of
them that die for vehement sorrow. Besides all this, what mortal
pestilence see we in every place. There is no part of the world, that is
not subject to peril and danger of man's life, which life of itself also
is most fugitive. So manifold mischances and evils assail man on every
side that not without cause Homer did say: Man was the most wretched of
all creatures living.

But forasmuch these mischances cannot lightly be eschewed, nor they happen
not through our fault, they make us but only wretched, and not ungracious
withal. What pleasure is it then for them that be subject already to so
many miserable chances, willingly to seek and procure themselves another
mischief more than they had before, as though they yet wanted misery? Yea,
they procure not a light evil, but such an evil that is worse than all the
others, so mischievous, that it alone passeth all the others; so abundant,
that in itself alone is comprehended all ungraciousness; so pestilent,
that it maketh us all alike wicked as wretched, it maketh us full of all
misery, and yet not worthy to be pitied.

Now go farther, and with all these things consider, that the commodities
of Peace spread themselves most far and wide, and pertain unto many men.
In war if there happen anything luckily (but, O good Lord, what may we say
happeneth well and luckily in war? ), it pertaineth to very few, and to
them that are unworthy to have it. The prosperity of one is the
destruction of another. The enriching of one is the spoil and robbing of
another. The triumph of one is the lamentable mourning of another, so that
as the infelicity is bitter and sharp, the felicity is cruel and bloody.
Howbeit otherwhile both parties wept according to the proverb, Victoria
Cadmaea, Cadmus victorie, where both parties repented. And I wot not
whether it came ever so happily to pass in war, that he that had victory
did not repent him of his enterprise, if he were a good man.

Then seeing Peace is the thing above all other most best and most
pleasant, and, contrariwise, war the thing most ungracious and wretched of
all other, shall we think those men to be in their right minds, the which
when they may obtain Peace with little business and labour will rather
procure war with so great labour and most difficulty?

First of all consider, how loathly a thing the rumour of war is, when it
is first spoken of. Then how envious a thing it is unto a prince, while
with often tithes and taxes he pillageth his subjects. What a business
hath he to make and entertain friends to help him? what a business to
procure bands of strangers and to hire soldiers?

What expenses and labours must he make in setting forth his navy of ships,
in building and repairing of castles and fortresses, in preparing and
apparelling of his tents and pavilions, in framing, making, and carrying
of engines, guns, armour, weapons, baggage, carts, and victual? What great
labour is spent in making of bulwarks, in casting of ditches, in digging
of mines, in keeping of watches, in keeping of arrays, and in exercising
of weapons? I pass over the fear they be in; I speak not of the imminent
danger and peril that hangeth over their heads: for what thing in war is
not to be feared? What is he that can reckon all the incommodious life
that the most foolish soldiers suffer in the field? And for that worthy to
endure worse, in that they will suffer it willingly. Their meat is so ill
that an ox of Cyprus would be loath to eat it; they have but little sleep,
nor yet that at their own pleasure. Their tents on every side are open on
the wind. What, a tent? No, no; they must all the day long, be it hot or
cold, wet or dry, stand in the open air, sleep on the bare ground, stand
in their harness. They must suffer hunger, thirst, cold, heat, dust,
showers; they must be obedient to their captains; sometimes they be
clapped on the pate with a warder or a truncheon: so that there is no
bondage so vile as the bondage of soldiers.

Besides all this, at the sorrowful sign given to fight, they must run
headlong to death: for either they must slay cruelly, or be slain
wretchedly. So many sorrowful labours must they take in hand, that they
may bring to pass that thing which is most wretched of all other. With so
many great miseries we must first afflict and grieve our own self, that we
may afflict and grieve other!

Now if we would call this matter to account, and justly reckon how much
war will cost, and how much peace, surely we shall find that peace may be
got and obtained with the tenth part of the cares, labours, griefs,
perils, expenses, and spilling of blood, with which the war is procured.
So great a company of men, to their extreme perils, ye lead out of the
realm to overthrow and destroy some one town: and with the labour of the
selfsame men, and without any peril at all, another town, much more noble
and goodly, might be new edified and builded. But you say, you will hurt
and grieve your enemy: so even that doing is against humanity.
Nevertheless, this I would ye should consider, that ye cannot hurt and
grieve your enemies, but ye must first greatly hurt your own people. And
it seemeth a point of a madman, to enterprise where he is sure and certain
of so great hurt and damage, and is uncertain which way the chance of war
will turn.

But admit, that either foolishness, or wrath, or ambition, or
covetousness, or outrageous cruelty, or else (which I think more like) the
furies sent from hell, should ravish and draw the heathen people to this
madness. Yet from whence cometh it into our minds, that one Christian man
should draw his weapon to bathe it in another Christian man's blood? It is
called parricide, if the one brother slay the other. And yet is a
Christian man nearer joined to another than is one brother to another:
except the bonds of nature be stronger than the bonds of Christ. What
abominable thing, then, is it to see them almost continually fighting
among themselves, the which are the inhabitants of one house the Church,
which rejoice and say, that they all be the members of one body, and that
have one head, which truly is Christ; they have all one Father in heaven;
they are all taught and comforted by one Holy Spirit; they profess the
religion of Christ all under one manner; they are all redeemed with
Christ's blood; they are all newborn at the holy font; they use alike
sacraments; they be all soldiers under one captain; they are all fed with
one heavenly bread; they drink all of one spiritual cup; they have one
common enemy the devil; finally, they be all called to one inheritance.
Where be they so many sacraments of perfect concord? Where be the
innumerable teachings of peace? There is one special precept, which Christ
called his, that is, Charity. And what thing is so repugnant to charity as
war? Christ saluted his disciples with the blessed luck of peace. Unto his
disciples he gave nothing save peace, saving peace he left them nothing.
In those holy prayers, he specially prayed the Father of heaven, that in
like manner as he was one with the Father, so all his, that is to say,
Christian men, should be one with him. Lo, here you may perceive a thing
more than peace, more than amity, more than concord.

Solomon bare the figure of Christ: for Solomon in the Hebrew tongue
signifieth peaceable or peaceful. Him God would have to build his temple.
At the birth of Christ the angels proclaimed neither war nor triumphs, but
peace they sang. And before his birth the prophet David prophesied thus of
him: Et factus est in pace locus ejus, that is to say, His dwelling place
is made in peace. Search all the whole life of Christ, and ye shall never
find thing that breathes not of peace, that signifieth not amity, that
savoureth not of charity. And because he perceived peace could not well be
kept, except men would utterly despise all those things for which the
world so greedily fighteth, he commanded that we should of him learn to be
meek. He calleth them blessed and happy that setteth naught by riches, for
those he calleth poor in spirit. Blessed be they that despise the
pleasures of this world, the which he calleth mourners. And them blessed
he calleth that patiently suffer themselves, to be put out of their
possessions, knowing that here in this world they are but as outlaws; and
the very true country and possession of godly creatures is in heaven. He
calleth them blessed which, deserving well of all men, are wrongfully
blamed and ill afflicted. He forbade that any man should resist evil.
Briefly, as all his doctrine commandeth sufferance and love, so all his
life teacheth nothing else but meekness. So he reigned, so he warred, so
he overcame, so he triumphed.

Now the apostles, that had sucked into them the pure spirit of Christ, and
were blessedly drunk with that new must of the Holy Ghost, preached
nothing but meekness and peace. What do all the epistles of Paul sound in
every place but peace, but long-suffering, but charity? What speaketh
Saint John, what rehearseth he so oft, but love? What other thing did
Peter? What other thing did all the true Christian writers? From whence
then cometh all this tumult of wars amongst the children of peace? Think
ye it a fable, that Christ calleth himself a vine tree, and his own the
branches? Who did ever see one branch fight with another? Is it in vain
that Paul so oft wrote, The Church to be none other thing, than one body
compact together of divers members, cleaving to one head, Christ? Whoever
saw the eye fight with the hand, or the belly with the foot? In this
universal body, compact of all those unlike things, there is agreement. 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.