(_scelus capitale_). The schoolmaster of the Straight
Street (_vicus rectus_), who smells worse than a goat,
and instructs his threepenny classes in his school, which
abounds in dirt and filth, pronounced three or four times
_volucres_ with the accent on the penultimate. I indeed
was astounded that the earth did not at once gulp him up.
_Praec._ What otherwise ought one to expect such a
schoolmaster to say? He is in other parts of the
grammatical rules thoroughly worn out (_detritus_). But
you are disturbed over a very small matter and make a
tragedy out of a comedy, or still more truly a farce.
_Usher._ I have finished my task. Now it is your turn.
You now keep the conversation going.
_Praec._ I don’t wish to give you the chance to answer
me what I don’t ask (παραφθέγγης). This broth is getting
cold. Bring a table fire-pan. Heat it up a little before
you dip your bread in it. This radish is not eatable, it
is so tough—and so are the rootlets in the broth.
_Usher._ They certainly have not brought the toughness
from the market, but they have acquired it here in our
store-room in which the pantry is quite unsuited for
provisions. I don’t know why it is we always have brought
to us here bones without marrow in them.
_Praec._ Bones have but little marrow in them at the new
moon (_sub lunam silentem_).
_Usher._ What when it is full moon?
_Praec._ Then there is plenty.
_Usher._ But our bones have little, or more truly no,
marrow.
_Praec._ It is not the moon that bereaves us of marrow
but our Lamia. She has here put in too much pepper
and ginger, and in the soup and particularly in the
salad there is also too much mint, rock-parsley, sage,
cole-wort, cress, hyssop. Nothing is more harmful to
the bodies of boys and youths than foods which make the
stomach hot.
_Arch._ What kinds of herbs then would you wish to be
used for food?
_Praec._ Lettuce, garden-oxtongue, purslain, mixed with
some rock-parsley.
_Manners at Table—The Clearing of the Table_
Here, you, Gangolfus, don’t wipe your lips with your
hand or on your cuff, but wipe both lips and hands
with your napkin, which has been provided you for the
purpose. Don’t touch the meat, except on that side which
you are about to take yourself. You, Dromo, don’t you
observe that you are putting your coat-sleeves into the
fat of the meat? If they are open, tuck them up to the
shoulders. If they are not, turn them or fold them to
the elbow. If they slip back again, fix them firm with
a needle, or what would be still more suitable for you,
with a thorn. You, delicate little lordling, you are
reclining on the table. Where did you learn to do that?
In some hog-stye? Eh! you there, put him a little cushion
for him to lean on. Prefect of the table, see that the
remains of the dinner don’t get wasted. Put them away in
the store-room. Take away first of all the salt-cellar,
then the bread, then the dishes, plates, napkins, and
lastly the table-cloth. Let each one clean his own knife
and put it away in its sheath. You there, Cinciolus,
don’t scrape your teeth with your knife, for it is
injurious. Make for yourself a tooth-pick of a feather or
of a thin sharp piece of wood, and scrape gently, so as
not to scar the gum or draw blood. Stand up all of you
and wash your hands before thanks are returned. Move the
table away, call the maid that she may sweep the floor
with the broom. Let us thank Christ. Let him who said
grace return thanks.
_Grace after the Meal_
_Florus._ For this timely meal, we render Thee timely
thanks, Lord Christ. Grant that we may for eternity
render immortal thanks. Amen.
_Praec._ Now go and play, and have your talk, and walk
about wherever you please, whilst the light permits.
VIII
GARRIENTES—_Students’ Chatter_
NUGO, GRACULUS, TURDUS, BAMBALIO
In this dialogue Vives puts forth nineteen little narratives suited to
the age of childhood and as it were the progymnasmata of eloquence. The
names also of the interlocutors are neatly fabled.
_Nugo_ is so called from _nugae_, as if a small retailer of trifles
(_nugivendulus_).
_Graculus_ and _Turdus_ are feigned names from the loquacity of those
birds. Compare the Proverbs, _Graculus graculo assidet_ (one jackdaw
resembles another),[31] _surdior turdo_ (deafer than a thrush).
_Bambalio_ is a man of worthlessness and of stammering speech as Cicero
interprets it. Philip. 3. Compare the Proverb _Bambylius homo_.
I. _Story of the Trunk_
_Nugo._ Let us sit on this trunk, and you, Graculus,
on that stone facing us, so that without anything to
hinder us we may observe all who pass by. We shall keep
ourselves warm near this wall, which is excellently
exposed to the sun. What a fine trunk is this and how
enjoyable it is!
_Turd._ For us to sit on it!
_Nugo._ It must have been a very high and thick tree from
which it was cut.
_Turd._ Such as there are in India.
_Grac._ How do you know! Have you been in India with the
Spaniards?
_Turd._ As if one could know nothing of a district
without having been in it! But I will give you my
authority. Pliny writes that trees in India grow to
such a height that a man cannot shoot a dart over them,
and the people there are not to seek in shooting their
arrows, as Vergil says.
_Nugo._ Pliny also says that a company of horsemen could
be hidden under the branches.
_Turd._ No one can wonder at that who considers the
rushes of that district, which the infirm people, at any
rate the rich, use to support them in walking.
_Grac._ Eh! what hour is it?
II. _The Hour-Bells_
_Nugo._ No hour at all, for the hour-bell is now thrown
down to the ground. Haven’t you been to see it?
_Grac._ I did not dare, for they say that it is dangerous.
_Nugo._ I have been there and saw no end of women with
child spring across the channel for the molten metal,
which is dug in the earth.
_Turd._ I heard that this was beneficial for them.
_Grac._ This is distaff philosophy, as they say, but I
was inquiring as to the hour.
III. _The Timepiece_
_Nugo._ What need have you to know the time? If you wish
to do anything, while there is opportunity, there is
the time for it. But where is your watch (_horologium
viatorium_)?
_Grac._ I let it fall lately, when I was escaping the dog
belonging to the gardener, whose plums I had plucked.
_Turd._ From the window I saw you running, but I could
not see where you fled because the view was blocked by
the fruit garden, which my mother has planted there,
against the will of my father, and in spite of his many
protests. But my mother, indeed, in the beginning was
persistent in getting her own way, so that it could
scarcely be borne.
_Nugo._ What is amiss with you? You are becoming silent.
_Turd._ I was weeping and said nothing, for what should I
otherwise do when my dearest ones disagree? To be sure my
mother ordered me to stand by her as she called lustily;
but I had not the heart to mutter a word against my
father. Therefore I was sent to school four days running
without breakfast by my enraged mother, and she swore
I was not her son, but had been changed by the nurse,
for which she would have the nurse summoned before the
_Praetor capitalis_.
_Nugo._ Who is the _Praetor capitalis_? Hasn’t every
_Praetor_ got a head on?
_Turd._ How am I to know? So she said.
_Grac._ Look there! Who are those people with mantles,
and armour for the legs.
IV. _The French_
_Nugo._ They are Frenchmen.
_Grac._ What, is there then peace?
_Turd._ They said that there was to be war and a dire war
too.
_Grac._ What are they carrying?
_Turd._ Wine.
_Nugo._ Then they will give pleasure to many.
_Grac._ Of a surety. For not only does wine cheer in
drinking, but there is also the thought and recollection
of it.
_Nugo._ At any rate for wine-drinkers. It matters nothing
to me, for I drink water.
_Grac._ Then you will never write a good poem.
V. _The Deaf Woman_
_Turd._ Do you know that woman there?
_Grac._ No, who is she?
_Turd._ She has her ears stopped up against gossip.
_Grac._ Why so?
_Turd._ So as to hear nothing; because she hears ill of
herself.[32]
_Nugo._ How many “hear ill of themselves” who have
unstopped and normal ears?
_Turd._ I believe that it is to the point to quote the
passage in Cicero’s _Tusculanae Quaestiones_. M. Crassus
was somewhat deaf—but what was worse, he “heard ill.”
_Nugo._ There is no doubt that this must be traced back
to slander. But, I say, Bambalio, have you found your
_Tusculanae Quaestiones_?
VI. _The Lost Book_
_Bamb._ Yes, at the huckster’s, but so interpolated that
I did not at first recognise it.
_Nugo._ Who had stolen it?
_Bamb._ Vatinius. And may he be repaid for his misdeed!
_Grac._ Ah! that man with the hook-like and pitch-black
hands! Never let such a man have access to your
book-cases, nor to your manuscript-boxes if you wish all
your things to be safe and sound. Don’t you know that
every one holds Vatinius for a thief of purses and he
has been accused of thieving purses before the Principal
(_gymnasiarcha_).
VII. _The Twins_
_Nugo._ The sister of the girl there yesterday gave birth
to twins.
_Grac._ What is there wonderful in that? A woman living
in Salt Street at the Helmeted Lion six days ago had a
triplet.
_Nugo._ Pliny says that there have been as many as seven
at a birth.
_Turd._ Who of you has heard of the wife of the Count
of Holland who is said to have had at a birth as many
children as there are days in the year, owing to the
curse of a certain beggar?
_Grac._ What was the story of this beggar?
_Turd._ This beggar was laden with children and begged an
alms of the countess. But when she saw so many children,
she drove the beggar away by her reproaches, calling her
a harlot. She said she could not possibly have had from
one man so great a family. The innocent beggar prayed
the gods that as they knew she was chaste and pure, they
would give the countess from her husband at one birth
as many children as there are days in the year. So it
happened, and the numerous posterity is shown[33] in a
certain town in that island to-day.
_Grac._ I will rather believe this than investigate it.
_Nugo._ All things are possible with God.
_Grac._ And, moreover, easy of accomplishment.
VIII. _Mannius the Hunter_
_Nugo._ Don’t you know that man there laden with nets
accompanied by dogs? He wears a summer hat and soldier’s
boots, and rides on the lankest of mules.
_Turd._ Isn’t it Mannius the verse-maker?
_Nugo._ Clearly it is.
_Turd._ Why has he made such a metamorphosis?
IX. _Curius the Dicer_
_Nugo._ From Minerva he has gone over to Diana, _i.e._,
from a most honourable occupation to an empty and foolish
labour. His father had increased his possessions by his
ability in business. He thinks his father’s skill is
a dishonour to himself, and turns himself to keeping
horses and following the chase, having thought that
not otherwise than by hunting can he acquire nobility
of race. For if he were to do anything useful, he would
not be held of noble family. Curius follows him to the
hunt—with dice. He is a very accomplished man, a very
well-known dice-player, who understands how to throw the
dice in the right way for himself. At home he has for
companion Tricongius.
_Turd._ Say rather an amphora.[34]
_Grac._ Or indeed a sponge.
_Nugo._ Better still, the driest sand of Africa.
_Bamb._ They say that he is always thirsty.
_Nugo._ Whether he is always thirsty or not, I don’t
know. But certainly he is always ready to drink.
X. _The Nightingale and the Cuckoo_
_Bamb._ Listen, there is the nightingale!
_Grac._ Where is she?
_Bamb._ Don’t you see her there, sitting on that branch?
Listen how ardently she sings; and how she goes on and on!
_Nugo._ (As Martial says) _Flet Philomela nefas._ (The
nightingale weeps at injustice.)
_Grac._ What a wonder she carols so sweetly when she is
away from Attica where the very waves of the sea dash
upon the shore not without rhythm (_non sine numero_).
_Nugo._ Pliny observes that they sing with more
exactitude when men are near them.
_Turd._ What is the reason for that?
_Nugo._ I will declare unto you the reason. The cuckoo
and the nightingale sing at the same time, that is, from
the middle of April till the end of May or thereabouts.
These two birds once met in a contest of sweetness of
song, when a judge was sought, and because it was a
trial concerning sound, an ass seemed the most suitable
for this decision, since he of all the animals had the
longest ears. The ass rejected the nightingale, because
he could not understand her harmony, and awarded the
victory to the cuckoo. The nightingale appealed to men,
and when she sees a man she immediately pours forth her
song, and sings with zest so as to approve herself to
him, so as to avenge the wrong which she received from
the ass.
_Grac._ This is a subject worthy of a poet.
XI. _Our Masters_
_Nugo._ Why, don’t you think it worthy of a philosopher?
Ask the question of our new masters from Paris.
_Grac._ Many of them are philosophers in their clothes,
not in their brains.
_Nugo._ Why do you say on account of their dress? For
you should rather say that they seem to be cooks or
mule-drivers.
_Grac._ I say so because they wear clothes which are
clumsy, worn out, torn, muddy, dirty, and full of lice
in them.
_Nugo._ Why this almost constitutes them cynic
philosophers!
_Grac._ Nay, they are rather _cimici_[35] but not what
they desire to seem, viz., _peripatetics_, for Aristotle,
the leader of this sect, was a most polished man. But
I have long since bidden farewell to philosophy, if I
cannot any other way than theirs become a philosopher.
For what is more comely and worthy in a man than
cleanliness and a certain refinement in bearing and in
dress? In this respect I consider the Lovanians are
superior to the Parisians.
_Turd._ But don’t you think that too much attention to
cleanliness and elegance is a hindrance to studies?
_Grac._ I certainly believe in cleanliness, but I don’t
think there should be an anxious and morose absorption in
it.
_Nugo._ Do you then condemn elegance, on which Laurentius
Valla has written so diffusely and which our teachers so
diligently commend to us? There is an elegance, _e.g._,
of words, in speaking, and there is an elegance of
clothes in dressing.
_Turd._ Do you know what was told me by the
letter-carrier at Louvain?
_Nugo._ What was that?
_Turd._ That Clodius fell in love madly with some
girl and Lusco transferred himself from letters to
merchandise, that is, from horseback to mule-back.
_Nugo._ What do I hear?
XII. _Clodius the Lover_
_Turd._ You all knew Clodius, full of vigour, rubicund,
well-clothed, cheerful, with shining countenance,
affable, genial teller of stories. Now it is said of him
that he is without vigour, bloodless, of pallid colour,
sallow, witless, wild-looking, stern, taciturn, one who
shuns the light and human society. No one who knew him
formerly would now recognise him.
_Nugo._ O wretched young man! Whence has this evil
befallen him?
_Turd._ He is in love.
_Nugo._ But whence his love?
_Turd._ As far as I could gather from the speech of the
letter-carrier he had given up solid and serious studies
and had devoted himself entirely to the looser Latin
poets—those of the vernacular; thence he got the first
preparation of his mind. So that if by any means any
spark of fire, however slight it might be, should fall on
him he was as kindling-wood ready for it and would flare
up suddenly like lit flax. So he gave himself up to sleep
and idleness.
_Nugo._ What need is there further to relate more or
greater causes of his falling in love?
_Turd._ Now he is beside himself, going about here,
there, and everywhere alone, but always either silent,
or singing something and dancing, and writing verses in
the vernacular.
_Nugo._ Which, forsooth, his Lycoris herself may read.
_Grac._ O Christ, preserve our hearts from so pernicious
a disease!
_Turd._ Unless I am deceived as to the character of
Clodius, he will return some time to a better and more
fruitful life. His mind wanders into the foreign lands of
evil; it does not take up its residence in them.
XIII. _Lusco the Merchant_
_Grac._ And that other one—what is the kind of commerce
in which he engages?
_Turd._ He has sent his father a letter written in a
weeping strain concerning the sad state of his studies.
The letter-carrier himself read the letter since it
was left open. The father, a man impervious to culture
(_crassae Minervae_), has handed him over from MSS. to
wools, cloths, dyes, pepper, ginger, and cinnamon. Now
girt as to his arms, wonderfully diligent and sedulous in
his odorous shop, he invites his customers, receives them
blandly, climbs up and comes down most unsafe ladders,
produces his goods, shows them this way and that, tells
lies, perjures himself. Everything is easier to him than
studying.
_Nugo._ From a boy I have known him intent on business,
and to delight in money, and so he has held business in
higher esteem than letters, and he has preferred filthy
lucre to the excellency of erudition. Some time he will
repent it.
_Turd._ But too late!
_Nugo._ Without doubt. May he take care that it does not
happen to him as it did to his cousin.
_Turd._ Which?
XIV. _Antony the “Cook”_
_Nugo._ Antonius in Fruit Lane, near the Three Jackdaws.
Haven’t you heard that in a former year he “cooked”?[36]
_Grac._ What did he cook, please? Is this so great an
evil? Doesn’t it go on in every kitchen daily?
_Turd._ He “cooked” his accounts (_rem decoxit_).
_Grac._ What accounts?
_Turd._ His business with others, and couldn’t meet his
creditors.
_Grac._ Hasn’t he paid back his creditors?
_Turd._ He has betaken himself to a place of retreat, and
made over his books one by one at a quarter of their cost
price.
_Grac._ Is this what you call “cooking,” when nothing
could be more raw. But how did he lose the money?
_Turd._ I have heard lately from his father with regard
to that, but I have not yet fully understood the
matter. The father said that he had made most prodigal
borrowings, which would skin him and swallow him up to
the bones.
_Grac._ What do you mean by “borrowings” and what by
“skinning”?
_Turd._ I don’t quite know, but I believe it has
something to do with theft.
XV. _The Tumbler_
_Nugo._ Do you see, there, that fat man? You would
scarcely think it possible to move him. Yet he is a
tumbler and rope-dancer (_funambulus_).
_Grac._ Ah! be quiet! You are saying something which is
incredible.
_Turd._ He does not indeed dance with his body, but he
makes drinking-cups dance.
_Grac._ Did the letter-carrier bring any news of our
companions?
XVI. _Hermogenes_
_Turd._ Yes, concerning Hermogenes, who in all our
contests always bore away the chief prizes. By an
astounding change from being a man of the highest ability
and learning (as his time of life brought about) suddenly
he has become most sluggish and boorish.
_Nugo._ Such a change I have often seen happen with
certain keen-witted men.
_Bamb._ They say that this happens when the sharpness
of the wit is not really genuine, like a lancet whose
edge is easily blunted, especially if it is used to cut
anything a little too hard.
_Grac._ What, is there an edge in wits, even as there is
in steel?
_Bamb._ I don’t know. I have often seen steel, but never
have I seen a man’s wits.
XVII. _The Boorish Youth_
_Nugo._ What has become of that young countryman
(_paganus_) who some months ago on his arrival
entertained us with a lunch consisting of delicacies
brought from the country, after whom the teacher has sent
four slave-catchers to bring him back from his flight? He
was rather a handsome fellow!
_Turd._ He has become a delightful ass! My aunt’s
maid-servant, who is his cousin, met him lately in his
village, with bare head, uncombed, shaggy, and bristly,
with wooden shoes and a poor, rough coat, selling in a
public square paper pictures and horn books, and singing
new songs before a circle of sightseers.
_Grac._ Yet he must be a man sprung from a distinguished
family.
_Turd._ Why so?
_Grac._ Since his father is of the race of the Coclites.
_Nugo._ That name does not so much argue a man of noble
family as a thrower of the dart. He will take his aim
easily.
_Turd._ Or it betokens a carpenter who directs his
red-chalk with one eye.
_Nugo._ That boy has never pleased me, nor has he ever
disclosed to me any sign of ability.
_Grac._ How so?
XVIII. _The Man with the Neck Chain_
_Nugo._ Because he never loved studies, nor showed any
reverence for his teacher. This is the clearest proof of
a lost mind. Then, too, he ridiculed old men and mocked
at the unfortunate. But who is that man clothed in silk,
adorned with neck-chain and with gold decorations?
_Grac._ He is of a renowned race, and has a mother a most
noble and fruitful mother.
_Nugo._ Who is she?
_Grac._ The earth,[37] and you will scarcely believe what
delights he always has. You would say he was a little
child up to now in the cradle, crying for his rattle.
_Nugo._ And yet the down begins to creep over his cheeks.
XIX. _The Overseer of Studies_
_Bamb._ Ah! the overseer (_observator_) is coming. Get
ready your books, open them, and begin to turn over the
pages and read them.
There has not been for many weeks a more zealous
overseer, one who would rejoice so much to pass on
charges against any one to the master.
_Bamb._ Would that at least he would accuse us of our
real faults, but for the most part he brings false
witness against us.
_Nugo._ Let that saying of Horace be a wall of brass to
us:
Nihil conscire sibi, nulla pallescere culpa.
But be quiet! I will immediately put him to rout.
_Observ._ What do you say, Vacia?
_Nugo._ What do you say, Vatrax?
_Observ._ What do you say, Batrachomyomachia? But, joking
aside, what are you doing here?
_Nugo._ What are we doing? What are good scholars
and students always doing? We are reading, learning,
disputing. Tell us, please, most charming creature,[38]
what is the meaning of that passage in Vergil’s
_Eclogues_:
... transversa tuentibus hirquis.
_Observ._ You do well; proceed with your studies as it
behoves young men of good abilities. I have now other
business in hand. Farewell.
_Nugo._ We have had sufficient trifling. Let us get back
to school. But first let us read over again what the
teacher explained, so that we learn something, and give
him pleasure, and so that he may approve of us—which must
be in our prayers as much as it is in those of the father
of each of us.
IX
ITER ET EQUUS—_Journey on Horseback_
PHILIPPUS, MISIPPUS, MISOSPUDUS, PLANETES
In this dialogue are contained those matters that pertain to horses and
peregrinations, concerning which see as a whole, Grapaldus, lib. 1,
cap. 8, and Volaterranus, lib. 25, philologiae. We place the kinds one
by one, according to their nomenclature, primarily for the sake of boys.
_Lupatum_, ein scharpff Gebisz.
_Frenum_, ein Zaum.
_Orea_, der Riem unter dem Maul.
_Aurea_, der Riem über die Ohren.
_Antilena_, der Brustriem.
_Postilena_, der hinder Riem. Hinderbug.
_Ephippium_, Sattel.
_Stapes vel stapeda_, Steigreiff.
_Habena_, Zügel.
_Calcar_, Spor.
GENERA EQUORUM
_Asturco gradarius, tollutarius, tieldo_, ein Zelter.
_Mannus_, ein kleines Rösslein.
_Cantherius_, ein Mönch.
_Succussator_, ein harttrabender Gaul.
_Vector seu ephippiarius_, Reitrosz.
_Clitellarius_, Saumrosz.
_Jugalis, helciarius_, Ziehrosz. Wagenrosz. Kummetrosz.
_Dorsualis_, Müllerrosz, das auff dem Rücke trägt.
_Meritorius_, Lehenrosz. Drei Plappert Rosz.
CURRUS
_Species_ {Rheda, ein Karr.
{Sarracum, Lastwagen. Stein. Wagen.
{Rotae, Reder.
_Partes_ {Temo, Deichsel.
{Canthi, Radschinnen.
The names of the interlocutors are suitably framed. Misippus, the hater
of horses, μισῶν τοῦς ἵππους; Philippus, the lover of horses, φιλῶν
τοῦς ἵππους; Misospudus, the hater of studies (_osor studiorum_), μισων
τῶν σπυδίων; Planetes erro, vagus, planus, ein Landstreicher, from
πλανάομαι, erro, vagor.
_Phil._ Wouldn’t you like us to set out for Boulogne
along the Seine, to cheer our minds?
_Misi. and Miso._ There is nothing we should like better,
especially on a mild day like this, without a sound of
wind, and when, again, we are having a holiday from
school.
_Phil._ Why are you not at work to-day?
_Miso._ Because Pandulfus is going to make all the
masters drunk with a great luncheon in honour of his
laurels in obtaining his mastership.
_Plan._ Oh! what a lot they will drink!
_Miso._ Much more than will satisfy thirst.
_Misi._ I have an Asturian horse.
_Phil._ And I have a hired horse which I have got from a
one-eyed rogue.