greater one burns in me.” The third statue is Helen; the
writing states: “Oh, would that I always had been such a
statue, then should I have wrought less harm.”
_Joc._ What is the meaning of the old blind bald-headed
man who points his finger at Helen?
_Vitr._ That is Homer, who says to Helen: “Thy ill deed
has been well sung by me.”
_Joc._ Look, the wainscoting is gilded, and here and
there decked with pearls.
_Vitr._ There are all kinds of pearls, but of small worth.
_Joc._ What do we look on from the windows?
_The Summer-house_—_The Sleeping-room_
_Vitr._ These windows look into the gardens, those
into the court. This is the summer-house or garden
dining-room. Here you see a sleeping-room or chamber.
The sleeping-room is furnished with tapestry, with a
pavement wainscoted and covered with rush-mats. There are
some pictures of the Holy Virgin, of Christ the Saviour,
and there are others of Narcissus, Euryalus, Adonis,
Polyxena, who are said to have been of the highest beauty.
_Joc._ What is written on the upper lintel of the door?
_Vitr._ “Withdraw from your troubles and enter the haven
of peace.”
_Joc._ What is written inside the door-post?
_Vitr._ “Bring into this haven no tempest.” The most
necessary house utensils are kept in that closed chamber.
The other is the winter chamber. As you see, everything
there is darker and better covered. Then there is a
sweating chamber.
_The Sweating Chamber_
_Joc._ It is bigger in my opinion than the dining-room
would lead one to expect.
_Vitr._ Don’t you notice that the inner sleeping-room is
heated by the same steam-pipe?
_Joc._ They say that if sleeping-rooms had no chimney
flue they would be warmer.
_Vitr._ It is not usual to have them in the air-holes.
_Joc._ What is that room, so elegantly vaulted?
_The Chapel_
_Vitr._ It is the chapel (_lararium_) or sanctuary
(_sacellum_) in which divine service (_res divina_) is
held.
_Joc._ Where is the _latrina_?
_Vitr._ We have it up in the granary out of the way.
In the sleeping-rooms my master uses basins, pans, and
chamber-crockery.
_Joc._ How beautifully and artistically made are all
these little towers and pyramids and columns and
weathercocks!
_The Kitchen_—_Eating Chamber_—_The Cellar_
_Vitr._ We will now go down. This is the kitchen; this
the eating-chamber; here is the wine-cellar and the
larder, where we are annoyed by the attempts of thieves
to get in.
_Joc._ How can thieves get in here? It is, as it seems
to me, so carefully closed in, and the windows have iron
gratings?
_Vitr._ Through chinks and borings.
_Leo._ There are also mice and weasels who strip you of
all kinds of food!
_The Back-door_
_Vitr._ This is the back-door of the house, which, when
the master is not at home, is always fastened with two
bars, both locked and bolted.
_Leo._ Why have these windows no iron bars?
_Vitr._ Because they are only rarely open and they abut,
as you see, on a narrow and dark by-street. Rarely any
one puts his head out of the window. Therefore my master
has decided that he will have them latticed.
_Leo._ With what kind of bars?
_Vitr._ Perhaps with wooden bars. It is not yet certain.
In the meantime this fastening suffices.
_The Portico_
_Joc._ What high columns and a portico full of majesty!
See how these Atlantides and Caryatides seem to strive to
support the building against falling, whilst really they
are doing nothing.
_Leo._ There are many people like them, who appear to
accomplish great things when they are in reality leading
leisurely and sluggish lives; drones who enjoy the fruits
of the labours of others. But what is that house there
below, adjoining this, but badly built and full of cracks?
_Vitr._ It is the old house. Because it had cracks and
had great lack of repair, my master decided to have this
new one built, from the foundation. That old one is now a
resting-place for birds and the habitation of rats, but
we shall soon take it down.
XIII
SCHOLA—_The School_
TYRO, SPUDAEUS
In this dialogue the school is described in six parts, as teachers,
honours, hours of learning and repetition, books, library, the
disputation. The name _Tyro_ is that of the crude novice, a metaphor
taken from military affairs of those as yet unskilled in war, to whom
are opposed the _veterani_. _Spudaeus_ is in Greek the diligent and
industrious person, a name worthy of one who is studious.
I. _The Teachers_
_Tyro._ What a delightful and magnificent school! I
suppose there is not in the whole academy any part more
excellent.
_Spud._ You judge rightly; add, also, what is of more
importance, that elsewhere there are no more cultured and
prudent teachers, who with such dexterity pass on their
learning.
_Tyro._ It behoves us then to repay their trouble by
attaining great knowledge.
_Spud._ And this indeed by great shortening of the labour
of learning!
_Tyro._ What does the schooling cost?
_Spud._ You can at once give up so base and unreasonable
a question. Can one in a matter of so great moment
inquire as to payment? The very teachers themselves do
not bargain for reward, nor is it suitable for their
pupils to even think about it. For what reward could
be adequate? Have you never heard the declaration of
Aristotle that gods, parents, and masters can never be
sufficiently recompensed? God created the whole man, the
parents gave the body birth, the masters form the mind.
_Tyro._ What do those masters teach, and for how long?
_Spud._ Each one has his separate class-room and the
masters are for various subjects. Some impart with labour
and drudgery the whole day long the elements of the art
of grammar; others take more advanced work in the same
subject; others propound rhetoric, dialectic, and the
remaining branches of knowledge, which are called liberal
or noble arts.
_Tyro._ Why are they so-called?
_Spud._ Because every noble-minded person must be
instructed in them. They are in contrast to the illiberal
subjects of the market-place which are practised by the
labour of the body or hands, which pertain to slaves and
men who have but little wit. Amongst scholars some are
“tyrones” and others “batalarii.”
II. _Grades or Honours of
Scholars_—_Tyro_—_Baccalaureus_—_Licentiates_—_Doctors_
_Tyro._ What do these names signify?
_Spud._ Both these names are taken from the art of
warfare. “Tyro” is an old word used with regard to the
one who is beginning the practice of war. “Batalarius”
is the French name of the soldier who has already
once been in a fight (which they call a battle) and
has engaged in a close fight and has raised his hand
against the foe, and so in the literary contests at
Paris, “batalarius” has begun to signify the man who
has disputed publicly in any art. Teachers are chosen
from them, and are called “licentiates,” because it is
permitted them to teach, or, better still, they might
be termed “designate,” _i.e._, the men marked out. At
least they have taken the doctorate. Before the whole
university, a hat is placed on their head as a sign that
they have had their freedom conferred on them, and become
_emeriti_. This is the supreme honour and the highest
grade of dignity.
_Tyro._ Who is that with so great a company round him,
before whom march staff-bearers with silver staffs?
_The Rector_
_Spud._ That is the Principal (_Rector_) of the Academy.
Many are drawn to him because of the honour they bear him
in his office.
_Tyro._ How often in the day are the boys taught?
III. _Hours of Teaching and Repetition_
_Spud._ Several times. One hour before sunrise; two hours
in the morning; two hours in the afternoon.
_Tyro._ So often?
_Spud._ An old custom of the Academy so establishes it.
And in addition the scholars repeat and think over what
they have received in instruction from their masters,
like as if they were chewing the cud of their lessons.
_Tyro._ With so much noise over it?
_Spud._ Such is now their practice!
_Tyro._ To what purpose?
_Spud._ So as to learn.
_Tyro._ On the contrary, so as to shout. For they don’t
seem to meditate on their studies, but to be preparing
themselves for the office of public crier. That one there
is clearly raving. For if he had a sound brain, he would
neither so call out, nor gesticulate, nor so distort
himself.
_Spud._ They are Spaniards and Frenchmen, somewhat
impetuous, and as they hold divers opinions, they contend
the more warmly as if for their hearths and altars, as it
is said.
_Tyro._ What! are the teachers here of different opinions?
_Spud._ Sometimes they teach contradictory views.
_Tyro._ What authors are they interpreting?
IV. _Authors_
_Spud._ Not all the same, but each one as he is furnished
with skill and knowledge. The most erudite teachers
take to themselves the best authors with the sharpest
judgment, those whom you grammarians call classics. There
are those who, on account of their ignorance of what is
better, descend to the lowest (_ad proletarios_) and are
worthy of condemnation.
V. _The Library_
Let us enter. I will show you the public library of this
school. It looks, according to the precept of great men,
to the east.
_Tyro._ Wonderful! How many books, how many good authors,
Greek and Latin orators, poets, historians, philosophers,
theologians, and the busts of authors!
_Spud._ And indeed, as far as could be done, delineated
to the life and so much the more valuable! All the
book-cases and book-shelves are of oak or cypress and
with their own little chains. The books themselves for
the most part are bound in parchment and adorned with
various colours.
_Tyro._ What is that first one with rustic face and nose
turned-up?
_Spud._ Read the inscription.
_Tyro._ It is Socrates and he says: “Why do I appear in
this library when I have written nothing?”
_Spud._ Those who follow him, Plato and Xenophon, answer:
“Because thou hast said what others wrote.” It would take
long to go through the things here, one by one.
_Tyro._ Pray what are those books thrown on a great heap
there?
_Spud._ _The Catholicon_, Alexander, Hugutio, Papias,
disputations in dialectics, and books of sophistries in
physics. These are the books which I called “worthy of
condemnation.”
_Tyro._ Nay rather, they are condemned to violent death!
_Spud._ They are all thrown out. Let him take them who
will; he will free us of a troublesome burden.
_Tyro._ Oh, how many asses would be necessary for
carrying them away! I am astonished that they have not
been taken away, when there is so great an assembly of
asses everywhere. Somewhere in that heap the books of
Bartolus and Baldus are lying together and others of that
quality (_hujus farinae_).
_Spud._ Say rather of that coarseness (_furfuris_). The
loss would not be hurtful to the tranquillity of mankind.
_Tyro._ Look, who are those with those flowing hoods?
VI. _The Disputation_—1. _The Praeses_.
_Spud._ Let us go down. They are “batalarii,” going to
the disputation.
_Tyro._ Please lead us thither.
_Spud._ Step in, but quietly and reverently. Uncover your
head and watch attentively all, one by one, for there
is a discussion beginning on weighty matters which will
conduce greatly to one’s knowledge. That one whom you
see sitting alone in the highest seat is the president
(_praeses_) of the disputation and the judge of the
disputes, so to say, the Agonotheta. His first duty is to
appoint the place for each of the contenders, lest there
should be any disorder or confusion, if one or other
should want to take precedence.
_Tyro._ What is the meaning of the skin-covering of his
toga?
_Spud._ It is his doctor’s robe, the emblem of his
position and dignity. He is a man of whom there are few
so learned, who, by the choice of the candidates in
theology, carried off the first prize, and by the most
learned of the faculty is regarded as the first among
them.
_Tyro._ They say that Bardus was the first choice in his
year.
_Spud._ He beat all his competitors by canvassing and
craft, not by his knowledge.
_Tyro._ Who is that thin and pallid man they all rush
upon?
2. _The Propugnator._ 3. _The Oppugnator (a smart man)—The Vapid
Man—The Smooth Man._
_Spud._ He is the _propugnator_, who will receive the
attack of all, and who has become thin and pale by his
immoderate night-watches. He has done great things in
philosophy and is advanced in theology. But now you must
be quiet and listen, for he who is now making the attack
is accustomed to think out his arguments most acutely and
subtly, and presses most keenly the _propugnator_, and,
in the opinion of all, is compared with the very highest
in this discipline, and often compels his antagonist to
recant. Notice how the latter has tried to elude him,
but how the _oppugnator_ has met him effectively by
his irrefutable reasoning, and how the _propugnator_
cannot escape him! This arrow cannot be avoided. His
argument is like an invincible Achilles. It enters the
neck of the opponent. The _propugnator_ cannot protect
himself and soon will give in (_manus dabit_) unless
some god suggests a subterfuge to his mind. Behold, the
question is brought to an end by the decision of the
judge (_decretor_). Now I loosen your tongue to speak
as you wish. For he who now attacks is as vapid wine,
and contends as with a leaden dagger, yet he shouts
louder than the rest. Notice, and you will see that he
grows hoarse from the encounter. Though his weapons are
repulsed, he presses on none the less pertinaciously,
but without effect; nor does any one wish to have the
reversion to his argument, or to have him assuaged by
the answer of the defender or the president. He who now
enters the contest effeminately begs the judge for his
permission, and speaks with courtesy, though he argues
ineffectively and always leaves off tired, even gasping,
as if he had gone through the unpleasant business with
fortitude. Let us depart.
XIV
CUBICULUM ET LUCUBRATIO—_The Sleeping-room and Studies by Night_
PLINIUS, EPICTETUS, CELSUS, DYDIMUS
In this dialogue Vives treats of two matters: in
the first place he describes night-studies with
adjuncts of time, causes, and subjects; then the bed,
its apparatus and adjuncts. The assisting causes
(_causae adjuvantes_) of night-study are lights, the
night-study gown, Minerva or Christ, table, bookcase,
reader (_anagnostes_), a scribe (_exceptor_), pens,
sand-case (_theca pulveraria_). The subjects are Cicero,
Demosthenes, Nazianzenus, Xenophon. The apparatus of
the bed consists in a mattress, a bolster, cushions,
sheets, coverlets, curtains, mosquito-curtain, hangings,
rugs. Adjuncts are—gnats, fleas, lice, bugs, a striking
clock, a folding seat, a pot, a lyre. The names of the
persons are aptly allotted, for they were the four most
learned and studious men, concerning whom Volaterranus
has written in his _Anthropologia_. Plinius wrote _De
Historia Naturali_, in xxxvii. books. He was the uncle
of the other Pliny whose letters are still extant.
The latter writes thus to Marcus, of his uncle: “He
was sharp-witted, of incredible studiousness, of the
highest vigilance, most sparing of sleep. After food
(which he used to take in the daytime, of a light and
easily digestible kind, according to the custom of the
ancients), if he had leisure, often in the summer, he
would lie in the sun. Then read his book, annotate it,
and make extracts. He never read without making extracts.
He was even accustomed to say that no book was so bad as
not to be profitable in some part of it. I remember once
when a reader had pronounced something wrongly, one of
his friends had the man called up and made him repeat
it, whereupon my uncle said: ‘You understood, forsooth?’
He nodded. ‘Then why have the passage recalled? We have
lost more than ten verses by this interruption.’ So great
was his economy of time. This, too, in the midst of his
labours in the noise of the town. Even in the retirement
of his bath he spent his time in studies. When I say the
bath, I speak of the inner parts of the house generally.
For whilst he was stretching himself or drying himself,
he used to listen to reading or to dictate. On a journey,
as if relieved from other cares, he occupied himself in
study only. At his side was an amanuensis with a book and
writing tablets, whose hands were furnished in winter
with gloves, so that by no roughness of weather should
any time be snatched from studies. For the same reason,
when at Rome, he was carried about in a chair. I recall
that I was reproved by him when I went for a walk. ‘Are
you not able,’ said he, ‘not to waste your time?’ For
he thought all time wasted which was not devoted to
studies.” For an account of his death, see an epistle by
the same writer to Tacitus.
Epictetus (as the epigram concerning him testifies) was
both a slave and lame. He was poorer than Irus.[55]
But in wisdom and equanimity of mind and constancy (as
records about him testify) he was admirable and almost
divine. But he was the servant of Epaphroditus the
freedman of the Emperor Nero. Celsus was a renowned
physician, whose works are still extant, whose excellent
_dictum_ was: “That many grave diseases are cured by
abstinence and quiet.”
Dydimus, the grammarian, on account of the almost
incredible number of books which he is said to have
written, is called χαλκέντερος, as if having intestines
of brass, _i.e._, he was remarkably patient and
indefatigable in labour. He (as also Origen) was
called Adamantinus. On this same matter _see_ Proverb:
Adamantinus and Chalcenterus and the lamp of Aristophanes
and Cleanthes.
I. _Studies by Night_
_Plin._ It is five o’clock in the afternoon. Epictetus,
shut me the window and bring me light. I will work with a
light.
_Epict._ What light do you wish?
_Plin._ For the time being, whilst others are present,
tallow or wax candles; when they have retired, take them
away and place here for me the lampstand.
_Cels._ What for?
_Plin._ For working.
_Time_
_Cels._ Don’t you study better in the morning? Then it
seems to me the season of the time and the condition of
the body invite study, since at that time there is the
least exhalation from the brain, digestion having been
completed.
_Plin._ But this hour is very quiet, when every one has
gone to rest and everything is silent, and for those who
eat at mid-day and morning it is not inconvenient. Some
follow the old custom and only eat one meal and that in
the evening; others merely at mid-day, according to the
advice of the new doctors; and again others both mid-day
and evening, according to the usage of the Goths.
_Cels._ But were there no mid-day meals before the Goths?
_Plin._ There were, but light meals. The Goths introduced
the custom of eating to satiety twice a day.
_Cels._ On that account Plato condemned the meal-times of
the Syracusans, who had two good meals every day.
_Circumstances Aiding Studies_
_Plin._ For that very reason you may conclude that people
like the Syracusans were very rare.
_Cels._ Enough of them! Why do you prefer to work with a
lamp than a candle?
_Plin._ On account of the equable flame, which less tries
the eyes, for the flicker of the wick injures the eyes
and the odour of the tallow is unpleasant.
_Cels._ Then use wax candles, the odour of which is not
displeasing.
_Plin._ In them the wick is more flickering and the
vapour is no more healthy. In the tallow lights the wick
is for the most part of linen and not of cotton, as the
tradesmen seek to make a profit on all these things by
fraud. Pour oil into this lamp, bring a candle and take
out the wick and clean it.
_Epict._ Notice how the lampblack sticks to the needle.
They say this is a sign of rain, in the same manner as we
find in Vergil:—
Scintillare oleum et putres concrescere fungos.[56]
_Plin._ Bring hither also the snuffers and clean this
candle. But don’t throw the black on the floor lest it
smoke, but press it into the snuffers-box whilst it is
held together. Bring me my dressing-gown, that long one
lined with skin.
_Cels._ I will provide you with your books. May Minerva
be favourable to you!
_Plin._ May Paul or, what I should rather have said, may
Jesus Christ, the Wisdom of God, be with me.
_Cels._ Perhaps Christ is adumbrated in the fable of
Minerva and that of the birth from Jupiter’s brain.
_Plin._ Place the table on the supports in the
sleeping-chamber.
_Cels._ Do you prefer the table to the desk?
_Plin._ At this time, yes; but place a small desk on the
table.
_Epict._ A self-standing one or a movable one?
_Plin._ Which you like. But where is the Dydimus of my
studies?
_Cels._ I will summon him thither.
_Subjects of Study_
_Plin._ Fetch also my boy-scribe. For I should like to
dictate something. Give me those reed-pens and two or
three feather pens, those with thick stalk, and the
sand-case. Bring me also from the chest the Cicero and
Demosthenes, and from the desk, the book in which I make
all my notes and important extracts. Do you hear? And my
extemporaneous MS. book in which I will polish up some
passages.
_Dyd._ I believe the MS. book is not in the desk but in
the chest, locked up.
_Plin._ Do you yourself search for it. And bring me the
Nazianzenus.
_Dyd._ I don’t know it.
_Plin._ The book is of slight thickness, sewn together
and roughly bound in parchment. Bring also the volume,
the fifth from the end.
_Dyd._ What is its title?
_Plin._ Xenophon’s _Commentaries_. The book is in
finished style. It is bound in leather with fastenings
and knobs of copper.
_Dyd._ I don’t find it.
_Plin._ Now I remember. I put it in the fourth case.
Fetch it. In the same case there are only loose sheets
and rough books just as they have come straight from the
press.
_Dyd._ Which volume of Cicero do you want, for there are
four?
_Plin._ The second.
_Epict._ It is not yet back from the book-gluer, who had
it, I believe, five days ago to glue.
_Dyd._ How do you like that pen?
_Plin._ On that point I am not very particular; whatever
comes into my hand I use it as if it were good.
_Dyd._ You have learned that from Cicero.
_Plin._ You just be quiet. Open me the Cicero. Look me up
three or four pages of the _Tusculan Questions_. Seek the
passages on gentleness and joy.
_Epict._ Whose verses are these?
_Plin._ They are his own translations of Sophocles. This
he does with keen pleasure and therefore often.
_Epict._ He was, I think, sufficiently apt in writing
verses.
_Dyd._ Most apt and facile, and, for his time, not
unhappy in his verse, contrary to what very many think.
_Epict._ But wherefore hast thou left off pursuing the
art of poetry?
II. _The Bed—Its Equipment_
_Plin._ I hope that we yet at times may take it up
again in leisure hours, for there is much alleviation
in it from more serious studies. I am already weary of
studies, meditation, writing. Stretch out my bed.
_Epict._ In which sleeping-room?
_Plin._ In the big square room. Take away the reclining
cushion out of the corner, and put it in the dining-room.
Place over the feather-bed another of wool. See also that
the supports of the bed are sufficiently firm.
_Epict._ What is it that is troubling you? For you don’t
lie on one part or other of the frame-work, but in the
middle of the bed. It would be more healthy for you if
the bed were harder and one which would offer resistance
to your body.
_Plin._ Take the head-pillow away, and instead of it put
two cushions, and in this heat I prefer that lightly
woven, to the linen, cloth.
_Epict._ Without bed-covering!
_Plin._ Yes.
_Epict._ You will get cold, for the body is exhausted by
studies.
_Plin._ Then put on a light covering.
_Epict._ These? And no more?
_Plin._ No. If I feel cold in bed, then I will ask for
more clothes. Take away the curtains, for I prefer a
mosquito-net for the keeping off of gnats, a net of fine
gauze (_conopeum_).
_Epict._ I have noticed but few gnats, though of fleas
and lice a pretty fair number.
_Adjuncts_
_Plin._ I am surprised that you notice anything
particularly, for you sleep and snore so soundly.
_Epict._ No one sleeps better than he who does not feel
how badly he is sleeping.
_Plin._ None of the insects with which we are troubled in
bed in summer disgust me so much as the bugs because of
their ghastly odour.
_Epict._ Of which there is a good supply in Paris and
Lyons.