UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, SAN DIEGO 3 1822 00718 4443 50URCE=B00K OF THE RENAISSANCE MIL ^fBKfi^iW-'&™ : ft 1 j# f > v LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SAN DIEGO ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ : i THE LIBRARY : — OF — Mrs, Mary E Ellis, Handle carefully, Read attentively, and Return seasonably With the corners of the leaves not turned down. ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦« ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ *♦♦♦♦♦♦« ♦*♦♦♦♦♦« UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. SAN DIEGO llWl'Rl 1 I I .''I 1 i 3 1822 00718 4443 f Central University Library University of California, San Diego Note: This item is subject to recall after two weeks. Date Due S~ tteSD: % NOV r» J991 INTERLIBRARY \csk\ \ HHT - iqqi CI 39 (1/91) UCSD Lib. SOURCE-BOOKS OF THE RENAISSANCE IN ITALY AND GERMANY. A LITERARY SOURCE-BOOK OF THK ITALIAN RENAISSANCE MERRICK WHITCOMB, Ph. D., Instructor in Modern European History, University of Pennsylvania. Department of History. UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA. PHILADELPHIA, PA. 1900. COPYRIGHT, 1S98, BY MERRICK WHITCOMB. PREFATORY NOTE. The Renaissance is a period of especial interest for the student of history. In it are found the beginnings of modern times. A fresh im- pulse sweeps across the Italian lands and penetrates beyond the Alps to the nations of later development, stirring the Christian world to a recognition of the possibilities of earthly life. Studied in the bare inventories of dates and dynasties this period has little meaning. The great achievements of the time are literary ; the vanguard of progress won its victories with the pen rather than with the sword. With such conditions the study of the Renaissance re- quires a special apparatus. No mere catalogue of names, even when reinforced with biographical details, is sufficient to afford a lasting im- pression of the Petrarchs and the Poggios of the age. It is only by immediate contact with their utterances that these personalities are made a part of our permanent intellectual capital. It is with this purpose in view that the following extracts have been arranged. Their highest utility for the student is to constitute an appendix to the comprehensive and valuable treatises of Symonds and of Burckhardt. The German humanistic period, although possessing an interest peculiarly its own, has not yet been dignified with especial treatment.* It has been thought worth the while, therefore, to preface the German Source-Book with a brief introduction on the general con- ditions of German intellectual life in the half century preceding the Reformation. * Such treatment is at least not available for the English-reading public. The scholarly work of Ludwig Geiger, Renaissance unci Humanismus in Italien und Deutschland, lacks the fluent style that might give it an international acceptance such as has been accorded to the work of Burckhardt. TABLE OF CONTENTS. PART I. THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. PAGE i. Dante Alighieri : Extract from De Monarchia ; Letter to the Princes and Peoples of Italy ..... i 2. Francesco Petrarcha : From Epistola varies, No. 25 . . 8 3. Giovanni Boccaccio : Introduction to the Decameron ; Novels II and III 15 4 . Franco Sacchetti : Novels CXIV, CXV, CXXI and CCXVI . 24 5. Poggio Bracciolini : Extracts from the Facetice; Description of the Death of Jerome of Prague . . . . -33 6. Leon Battista Alberti : Extract from // Governo della Famiglia ......... 47 7. Aeneas Sylvius: Extract from De Liberorum Educatione . 55 8. Platiiva : Extracts from the Lives of the Popes . . -63 9. Vespasiano da Bisticci : Extracts from the Vite . . -70 1 o. Lorenzo de' Medici : Letter to his son Giovanni . . .80 11. Nicolo Machiavelli : Extracts from the Prince . . .84 12. Baldassare Castiglione : Extracts from the Courtier . -91 13. Matteo Bandello : Novels VI, XIII and XLI . . 102 14. Benvenuto Cellini : Extracts from the Autobiography . .110 PART II. THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. 1. The Renaissance in Germany ..... 2. Rudolf Agricola : Letter to Barbirianus 3. Jacob Wimpheling : Extracts from Isidoneus, Adolescentia and Agatharchia ........ 4. Johann Reuchlin : Letter to Ammerbach 5. Sebastian Brant : Extracts from the Narrenschiff '. 6. Maximilian I : Extracts from the Weisskunig 7. Desiderius Erasmus : Two Colloquies .... 8. Ulrich von Hutten : Extract from Inspicientes . 9. Letters of Obscure Men (Seven letters) 10. Johannes Butzbach : Extracts from Hodoporicon . 11. Thomas Platter : Extract from the Autobiography 1 12 23 35 39 42 47 62 67 80 99 DANTE ALIGHIERI. DANTE ALIGHIERI. Born at Florence, 1265. Took part in the political struggles of the time, and fought at the battle of Campaldino, 1289. Held office of prior in 1300, and as a result of factional strife was banished from Florence two years later. Some portion of the period of his exile he passed at the court of the lords of Verona. In 1310 attached himself to the cause of the Emperor, Henry VII. Died at Ravenna in 1321. The principal works of Dante are the Vita Nuova, the Convito, De Monorchia, a treatise ZV Vulgari Eloquio, and the Divina Commedia, EXTRACT FROM DE MONARCHIA. 1 Dante refutes arguments which strive to prove that the Imperial power is subject to the Papal poiver. Book III., Sec. iv. Those men to whom all our subsequent reasoning is ad- dressed, when they assert that the authority of the Empire depends on the authority of the Church, as the inferior work- man depends upon the architect, are moved to take this view by many arguments, some of which they draw from Holy Scripture, and some also from the acts of the Supreme Pon- tiff and of the Emperor himself. Moreover, they strive to have some proof of reason. In the first place they say that God, according to the book of Genesis, made two great lights, the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night; this they understand to be an allegory, for that the lights are the two powers, the spiritual and the temporal. And then they maintain that as the moon, which is the lesser light, only has light so far as she receives it from the sun, so the tem- poral power only has authority as it receives authority from the spiritual power. * %. ^c :+: % ^c 4; Having thus first noted these things, I will proceed, as I said above, to destroy the argument of those who say that the two great lights are typical of the two great powers on earth; for on this type rests the whole strength of their ar- gument. It can be shown in two ways that this interpreta- tion cannot be upheld. First, seeing that these two kinds 'Translated by F. C. Church, in Dante, an Essay, by R. W. Church, M. A., D. C. Iv., London, 1878. 2 SOURCE-BOOK OP THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. of power are, in a sense, accidents of men, God would thus appear to have used a perverted order, by producing the ac- cidents before the essence to which they belong existed; and it is ridiculous to say this of God. For the two lights were created on the fourth day, while man was not created till the sixth day, as is evident in the text of Scripture. Secondly, seeing that these two kinds of rule are to guide men to certain ends, as we shall see, it follows that if man had remained in the state of innocence in which God created him, he would not have needed such means of guidance. These kinds of rule, then, are remedies against the weakness of sin. Since, then, man was not a sinner on the fourth day, for he did not then even exist, it would have been idle to make remedies for his sin, and this would be contrary to the goodness of God. For he would be a sorry physician who would make a plaster for an abscess which was to be, before the man was born. It cannot, therefore, be said that God made these two kinds of rule on the fourth day, and there- fore the meaning of Moses cannot have been what these men pretend. We may also be more tolerant, and overthrow this false- hood by drawing a distinction. This way of distinction is a gentler way of treating an adversary, for so his arguments are not made to appear consciously false, as is the case when we utterly overthrow him. I say then that, although the moon has not light of its own abundantly, unless it receives it from the sun, yet it does not therefore follow that the moon is from the sun. Therefore be it known that the being, and the power, and the working of the moon are all different things. For its being, the moon in no way depends on the sun, nor for its power, nor for its working, considered in itself. Its motion comes from its proper mover, its influence is from its own rays. For it has a certain light of its own, which is manifest at the time of an eclipse; though for its better and more powerful working it receives from the sun an abundant light, which enables it to work more power- fully. DANTE ALIGHIERI. 3 X. Certain persons say further that the Emperor Constan- tine, having been cleansed from leprosy by the intercession of Sylvester, then the Supreme Pontiff, gave unto the church the seat of Empire, which was Rome, together with many other dignities belonging to the Empire. Hence they argue that no man can take unto himself these dignities unless he receive them from the Church, whose they are said to be. From this it would rightly follow that one authority de- pends on the other, as they maintain. The arguments which seem to have their roots in the Divine words, have been stated and disproved. It remains to state and disprove those which are grounded on Roman history and in the reason of mankind. The first of these is the one which we have mentioned, in which the Syllogism runs as follows: No one has a right to those things which belong to the Church, unless he has them from the Church; and this we grant. The government of Rome belongs to to the Church; therefore, no one has a right to it, unless it be given him by the Church. The minor premiss is proved by the facts concerning Constantine, which we have touched upon. This minor premiss then will I destroy; and as for their proof, I say that it proves nothing. For the dignity of the Empire was what Constantine could not alienate, nor the Church receive. And, when they insist, I prove my words as follows: No man, on the strength of the office which is committed to him, may do aught that is contrary to that office; for so one and the same man, viewed as one man, would be contrary to himself, which is impossible. But to divide the Empire is contrary to the office committed to the Emperor; for his office is to hold mankind in all things sub- ject to one will; as may be easily seen from the first book of this treatise. Therefore, it is not permitted to the Emperor to divide the Empire. If, therefore, as they say, any dig- nities had been alienated by Constantine, and had passed to the Church, the "coat without seam," which, even they, who pierced Christ, the true God, with a spear, dared not rend, would have been rent. 4 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. LETTER TO THE PRINCES AND PEOPLES OF ITALY. 1 For all and for each of the kings of Italy, for the senators of the fair city, and also for the dukes, marquises and counts, and for the peoples, the humble Italian Dante Alighieri, a Florentine, and undeservedly an exile, prays for peace. i. Behold, now is the acceptable time, in which the signs of consolation and peace arise. For a new day grows bright, revealing a dawn that already lessens the gloom of long ca- lamity. Already the eastern breezes grow stronger; the lips of heaven grow ruddy and strengthen the auguries of the people with caressing tranquillity. And even we, who for so long have passed our nights in the desert, shall behold the gladness for which we have longed, for Titan shall arise pacific, and justice, which had languished without sunshine at the end of the winter's solstice, shall grow green once more, when first he darts forth his splendor. All who hun- ger and thirst will be satisfied in the light of his rays, and they who delight in iniquity shall be put to confusion at the sight of his radiance. For the strong I^ion of the Tribe of Judah has hearkened with compassionate ears, and pitying the lament of universal captivity, has raised up another Moses, who will liberate his people from the oppression of the Egyptians, and will lead them to a land flowing with milk and honey. 2. Henceforth let thy heart be joyful, O Italy ! who de- serveth to be pitied even by the Saracens, but who straight- way shalt be looked on with envy throughout the world, because thy bridegroom, the solace of the earth and the glory of thy people, the most clement Henry, Divine, Au- gustus and Caesar, hastens to the nuptials. Dry thy tears and blot out the traces of sorrow, O most beauteous, for he is at hand who will free thee from the bonds of the impious; who, smiting the wicked, will destroy them at the edge of the sword, and will hire his vineyard to other husbandmen, who, at the time of harvest, will yield the fruit of justice. 1 A Translation of Daute's Eleven Letters by Charles Sterrett Latham. Riverside Press, 1892. DANTE AUGHIERI. 5 3. But will he not be merciful to any? Yea; as he is Caesar, and his majesty flows from the font of pity, he will spare all imploring mercy. His judgments abominate all severity, and always in punishing set a bound on this side of moderation, and in rewarding on the other side. Will he, therefore, applaud the desperate deeds of evil men, and drink to the undertakings of the presumptuous? Nay; be- cause he is Augustus. And if Augustus, will he not avenge the wickedness of the backsliders, and pursue them even into Thessaly, — the Thessaly, I say, of the last destruction. 4. Lay aside, O Lombard race, thy accumulated barbarity; and if any vestige of the seed of the Trojans and Latins still exists, give it place, lest when the sublime eagle, descending like a thunderbolt, falls from on high, he may see his eaglets cast out, and the nest of his own young occupied by ravens. Up, O race of Scandinavia! See that thou mayest desire, as eagerly as in thee lies, the presence of him whose coming thou justly dreadest. Let not cupidity, deceiving thee after the manner of the Sirens, seduce thee, deadening the vigi- lance of reason by I know not what sweetness. ' ' Come be- fore his presence with a confession of submission, and rejoice on the psaltery with a song of repentance," considering that he who resists authority, resists the ordinance of God, and he who withstands the divine ordinance, opposes a will co- equal with omnipotence; and it is hard to kick against the pricks. 5. Ye likewise, who mourn oppressed, lift up your hearts, for your salvation is at hand. Take up the harrow of a good humility, and level the clods of parched animosity, lest per- chance the heavenly rain, coming before the sowing of your seed, fall from on high in vain; or lest the grace of God shrink from you as the dew does daily from the stone. But do ye conceive like a fertile valley and put forth green — the green, I say, fruitful of true peace; and, in very truth, in this verdure, making spring in your land, will the new hus- bandman of the Romans yoke the oxen of his counsel more kindly and confidently to his plough. Pardon, pardon, now and henceforth, O best beloved! who have suffered injustice 6 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. along with me, that the Hectorian shepherd may recognize you as the sheep of his fold: who, although he holds the rod of temporal correction in his hand by divine concession, nevertheless, that he may be redolent of the goodness of Him from whom as from one point the power of Peter and of Caesar divides, gladly corrects his family, but more willingly, in very truth, has compassion on it. 6. Therefore, if the old transgression, which many a time like the serpent is coiled and turned on itself, is no hindrance, henceforth can ye all perceive that peace is prepared for one and all, and already can 3 T e taste the first fruits of the hoped- for gladness. Then be ye all vigilant, and rise up to meet your king, O inhabitants of Italy! reserving yourselves not only for his empire but, as free people, for his guidance. 7. I exhort you not only to rise up to meet him, but also to do reverence to his presence. Ye who drink of his streams and navigate his seas; ye who tread the sands of the shores and the summits of the alps that are his; ye who re- joice in any public thing whatsoever, and possess private goods not otherwise than b)^ the bonds of his law: do not, as if ignorant, deceive j^ourselves as though ye dreamt in your hearts and said: "We have no lord." For his garden and lake is whatever the heavens encompass round about, since " The sea is God's and He made it, and His hands formed the dry land." Wherefore that God predestined the Roman Prince shines forth in wonderful effects; and that he after- wards confirmed him by the word of His Word, the Church proclaims. 8. Surely, if through those things which have been cre- ated by God the human creature sees the invisible things with the ej^es of the intellect, and if from the things better known those less known are evident to us, in like manner it concerns human apprehension that from the motion of the heavens we should know the Motor and His will; and this predestination will be seen readily even by those who look superficially. For if from the first spark of this fire we turn back to things passed, from what time, I say, hospitality was denied the Argives by the Phrygians; and if there is time to DANTE AUGHIERI. 7 survey the affairs of the world even to the triumphs of Octa- vian, we shall see that some of them have completely tran- scended the heights of human valor, and that God has worked through men, just as through the medium of the new heavens. For we do not always act; nay, rather are we sometimes the instruments of God, and the human will, in which liberty is innate, acts sometimes free even from earthly passions, and, subservient to the Eternal Will, often serves it without knowing it. 9. And if these things which are first principles, as it were, for proving that which is sought, are not sufficient, who, proceeding from the conclusion inferred through facts will not be compelled to think as I do, perceiving that peace has embraced the world completely for twelve years — a peace which revealed in its accomplishment the face of its syllo- gizer, the son of God. And while He, made man, preached the Gospel on earth for the revelation of the Holy Ghost, as if he were dividing two kingdoms, distributing all things to himself and Caesar, He commanded to ' ' Render unto each the things that are his." 10. But if the obstinate mind demands further, not yet as- senting to the truth, let him examine the words of Christ, even when in chains, for He who is our light, when Pilate opposed His power, asserted that the office which he, as lieutenant of Caesar, was vaunting of, came from on high. Therefore walk ye not even as the Gentiles, involved in dark- ness by the vanity of the senses; but open the eyes of your mind, and see, for the Lord of heaven and earth has ordained a king for us. This is he whom Peter, the vicar of God, admonished us to honor; whom Clement, now the successor of Peter, illuminates with the light of the apostolic benedic- tion, in order that where the spiritual ray does not suffice, the splendor of the lesser light may illumine. SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. FRANCESCO PETRARCA. Born at Arezzo, 1304, during the exile of his family from Florence. Removed 1313 to Avignon. Studied law at Montpellier, and later at Bologna, 1323. Returned to Avignon, 1326, and attached himself to the household of a member of the family of Colonna. Settled at Vaucluse in 1337, and in 1341 received the poet's crown at Rome. Petrarch's friendship with Boccaccio dates from their meeting at Florence in 1350. Made extensive journeys in Central Europe, and was a welcome guest in the courts of Italian princes. In 1369 retired to Arqua, not far from Padua, where he died in 1374. Petrarch's chief literary works are Poems, both in Latin and Italian, and Letters. EXTRACT FROM THE EPISTOL-E VARLE, NO. 25.* Your letters are always more than welcome, especially when I have need of consolation, a need that I often experi- ence amid the weariness of life. In the first place I cannot pass over in silence a certain ambiguous statement of yours, that you are well aware, from the direction my affairs are taking, that I am likely to make a permanent stay at Milan. You conceal your own feelings in the matter by ascribing your silence to the fact that you have not the hardihood to protest against my resolution. In this manner, by saying nothing, you say more than if you had said much. Surely, silence often plays a great part among the artifices of eloquence. I see in this economy of words your oft-expressed solicitude and forethought, and not yours alone, but that of others. For almost all my friends, except those who are here and who dread the idea of my departure as a calamity — all my friends, I say, prefer that I should be elsewhere. There seems to be a harmony of opinion in this matter. But whither go ? Upon this point exists a wide divergence of opinion. Some summon me to Padua, others beyond the Alps, still others to my native country. These appeals would be most opportune, if the affair did not present a diffi- culty that borders upon the impossible. Still others will in- vite me elsewhere ; each, according to his desire, will offer * Fracassetti, J. : Epistolae de rebus familiaribus et variae. Flor- ence, 1863. Vol. 3, pp. 364-371. FRANCESCO PETRARCA. 9 me this or that place of residence. In all this I am less astonished at the variety of their opinions than at the unan- imity which exists in their sentiments of tenderness and affection. When I examine thoughtfully the causes of this variety, I confess the variety itself pleases me, and I am proud of being so dear to my friends, that their friendship for me blunts the edge and dims the clearness of their judgment. If you should ask me, in the midst of these opinions of my friends, what I myself think of the matter, I can only reply that I long for a place where solitude, leisure, repose and silence reign, however far from wealth and honors, power and favors. But I confess, I know not where to find it. My own secluded nook, where I have hoped not alone to live, but even to die, has lost all the advantages it once possessed, even that of safety. I call to witness thirty or more volumes, which I left there recently, thinking that no place could be more secure, and which, a little later, having escaped from the hands of robbers and returned, against all hope, to their master, seem yet to blanch and tremble and show upon their foreheads the troubled condition of the place whence they have escaped. Therefore I have lost all hope of revisiting this charming retreat, this longed-for country spot. Still, if the expectation were offered me, I should seize it with both hands and hold it fast. I do not know whether I still possess a glimmer of hope, or am feigning it for self-deception, and to feed my soul's desire with empty expectation. My con- versations with my friends, by day and night, in which I speak of almost nothing else, and the sighs which I have mingled in a recent letter to the bishop of the neighborhood, prove that I have not yet wholly turned my hopes aside. Truly it is strange, and I could not tell the reason for it, but here is what I think : our labors, even though announced by fame, can be brought to completion in that place alone where they have been undertaken, as though the place were destined by fate for both the beginning and the end. However much, moreover, I desire to determine the place and the manner of my living, according as my fortunes vary, I find myself con- firmed in my indecision by several persons, particularly by IO SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. you and still oftener by myself. In this, believe me, it is more difficult to arrange the things themselves than to quibble over words, because to provide for the future is not only difficult, but uncertain ; so that, although the result may be fortunate, the choice cannot be other than a matter of chance. What would j^ou choose at a moment when your most established resolutions were baffled by a turn of the wheel of fortune ? There is but one choice that never fails — to live, in whatever spot necessity or desire has placed us, with a contentment that has its origin in ourselves and not in our fortunes, knowing well that our most extensive plans will have only a brief duration. But I proceed, recollecting that we had much conversation on this point last year, when we lived together in the same house, in this very city ; and that after having examined the matter most carefully, in so far as our light permitted, we came to the conclusion that while the affairs of Italy and of Europe remained in this condition, there was no place safer and better for my needs than Milan, nor any place that suited me so well. We made exception only of the city of Padua, whither I went shortly after, and whither I shall soon return; not that I may obliterate or diminish — that I should not wish — but that I may soften the regret which my absence causes the citizens of both places. I know not whether you have changed your opinion since that time ; but for me I am convinced that to exchange the tumult of this great city and its annoyances for the annoyances of another city would bring me no advantage, perhaps some inconvenience, and beyond a doubt, much fatigue. Ah, if this tranquil solitude, which, in spite of all my seeking, I never find, as I have told you, should ever show itself on any side, you will hear, not that I have gone, but that I have flown to it. If I have dwelt at such length upon so trivial a thing, it is because I wish to satisfy you, you and my friends, in the matter of my affairs, of which this is the chief. This desire has been awakened in me bj- the numerous letters of my friends. Since it is impossible to reply to each one of them, and the greater part of them are of the same counsel, FRANCESCO PETRARCA. II I have conceived the idea of replying to them all at once and of devoting an entire volume to a discourse upon the manner of my life. Alas ! I comprehend now that living is a serious matter. In the following paragraph of your letter you jest with much elegance, saying that I have been wounded by Cicero without having deserved it, on account of our too great in- timacy.* "Because," you say, "those who are nearest to us most often injure us, and it is extremely rare that an Indian does an injury to a Spaniard." True it is. It is on this account that in reading of the wars of the Athenians and Lacedaemonians, and in contemplating the troubles of our own people with our neighbors, we are never struck with astonishment ; still less so at the sight of the civil wars and domestic troubles which habitude has made of so little account, that concord itself would more easily cause sur- prise. But when we read that the King of Scythia has come to blows with the King of Egypt, and that Alexander of Macedonia has penetrated to the ends of India, we experi- ence a sensation of astonishment which the reading of our histories, filled as they are with the deeds of Roman bravery in their distant expeditions, does not afford. You bring me consolation, in representing me as having been wounded by Cicero, to whom I am fondly attached, a thing that would probably never happen to me, either at the hands of Hip- pocrates or Albumazar. But laying aside pleasantry, in order to acquaint you with the truth, this Ciceronian wound, at which at first I laughed, has converted my mirth into tears. For almost a year it was daily growing worse, so that between weariness and suffer- ing, between physicians and remedies, I fell into despair. Finally, not only overwhelmed with disgust, but weary of life, I resolved to await, without physicians, the end, whatever it might be, and to trust myself to God and to Nature rather than to those peddlers of ointments, who, in attending my * Petrarch had been slightly injured by the fall of a heavy volume of Cicero's Letters. 12 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. case, have taken the opportunity of making some experiments along the line of their profession. And so it happened. The physicians excluded, thanks to the assistance of the heavenly Physician ; thanks to the at- tentions of a young man who waits upon me, and who, in dressing my wound, has become a physician at my expense, so to speak ; thanks also to the use of certain remedies, which I determined by observation were most helpful to me, and to that abstinence which assists Nature, I have returned little by little to that state of health from which I was so far removed. This is the whole story. I might add, that although this life is a vale of sorrows, in which I have often met with strange accidents (not strange in themselves, but strange for me, of all men the fondest of repose and the most determined enemy of such tribulations), yet up to this time I have never experienced anything of the kind, if you con- sider the cause of the trouble, the suffering it entailed and the length of its duration. My beloved Cicero has imprinted in my memory an indelible mark, an eternal stigma. I should have remembered him, but he has brought it about, both internally and externally, that I am positively unable ever to forget him. Once more, alas ! I have come to know that life is a severe affliction. Leaving other things aside, I now come to the occurrence which has covered me with honor and with joy. When I learned that a number of distinguished personages, who cer- tainly were not the least of the princes of Italy, finding them- selves at the end of the world, by night, in winter, during a tempest, in time of war, reduced to extremities, were re- ceived in my name within the walls of a city and treated with distinction, I was astonished at first, and thought it must be a error in names. Later I recalled with some diffi- culty the time when, in my youth, I followed into that country him who, by the token of his calm brow, might have led me beyond the Indies. Thirty summers have rolled by since that time, and ten since the death of this grand man, unripe in years, but ripe in virtues. Pursuing this train of recollection I have finallv been able to con- FRANCESCO PETRARCA. 1 3 jecture who it might be that after so long a time still re- tained a memorjr of me, whom I, it must be confessed, had almost completely forgotten. I addressed to him by letter, as you have seen, the thanks which he deserved, for in no way could he place me under greater obligation, than by his honorable reception of such great personages, and he will be not the less surprised at my remembrance of him, if he does not dream that he has refreshed my memory with a recent deed of kindness.* You ask me finally to lend you the copy of Homer that was on sale at Padua, if, as you suppose, I have purchased it ; since, you say, I have for a long time possessed another copy ; so that our friend Leof may translate it from Greek into Latin for your benefit and for the benefit of our other studious compatriots. I saw this book, but neglected the opportunity of acquiring it, because it seemed inferior to my own. It can easily be had with the aid of the person to whom I owe my friendship with Leo ; a letter from that source would be all-powerful in the matter, and I will myself write him. If by chance the book escape us, which seems to me very unlikely, I will let you have mine. I have been always fond of this particular translation and of Greek literature in gen- eral, and if fortune had not frowned upon my beginnings, in the sad death of my excellent master, I should be perhaps to-day something more than a Greek still at his alphabet. I approve with all my heart and strength your enterprise, for I regret and am indignant that an ancient translation, presumably the work of Cicero, the commencement of which Horace inserted in his Ars Poeiica, should have been lost to the Latin world, together with many other works. It angers me to see so much solicitude for the bad and so much neglect of the good. But what is to be done ? We must be resigned. If the zeal of strangers shall come to rouse us from our leth- argy, then may the Muses and our Apollo help it on ! The * It is unknown to what occasion Petrarch here refers. fLeo Pilatus. 14 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. Chinese, the Arabs and the Red Sea offer in my eyes no more valuable merchandise (merx). I am not unaware of what I say. I know that this nominative (merx) is not used to-day by our grammarians ; but it was used by the ancients, possibly not by the very earliest, whose style the ignorance of our times blushes to imitate ; but by those nearest to us and the first in science and ability, whom blind and loqua- cious pride has not yet dared to set aside. In their writings, and notably in Horace, I remember that the nominative of which I speak is often found. Let us put it again into use, I beg of you, if we may ; for I do not know why we should not dare to recall from unmerited exile this word banished from the Latin country, and introduce it into the tongue to which we are devoting all our time. I wish to take this opportunity of warning you of one thing, lest later on I should regret having passed it over in silence. If, as you say, the translation is to be made liter- ally in prose, listen for a moment to the opinion of St. Jerome as expressed in his preface to the book, De Tempori- bus, by Busebius of Caesarea, which he translated into Latin. Here are the very words of this great man, well acquainted with these two languages, and indeed with many others, and of especial fame for his art of translating : If any one, he says, refuses to believe that translation lessens the peculiar charm of the original, let him render Homer into Latin, word for word ; I will say further, let him translate it i?ito prose in his own tongue, and he will see a ridiculous array and the most eloquent of poets transformed into a stavunerer. I tell you this for your own good, while it is yet time, in order that so im- portant a work may not prove useless. As for me, I wish the work to be done, whether well or ill. I am so famished for literature that just as he who is ravenously hungry is not inclined to quarrel with the cook's art, so I await with a lively impatience whatever dishes are to be set before my soul. And in truth, the morsel in which the same Leo, translating into Latin prose the beginning of Homer, has given me a foretaste of the whole work, although it confirms the sentiment of St. Jerome, does not displease me. It pos- GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO. 1 5 sesses, in fact, a secret charm, as certain viands, which have failed to take a moulded shape, although they are lacking in form, preserve nevertheless their taste and odor. May he continue with the aid of Heaven, and may he give us Homer, who has been lost to us ! In asking of me the volume of Plato which I have with me, and which escaped the fire at my trans-Alpine country house, you give me proof of your ardor, and I shall hold this book at your disposal, whenever the time shall come. I wish to aid with all my power such noble enterprises. But beware lest it should be unbecoming to unite in one bundle these two great princes of Greece, lest the weight of these two spirits should overwhelm mortal shoulders. Let your messenger undertake, with God's aid, one of the two, and first him who has written many centuries before the other. Farewell. (Milan, Aug. 18, 1360.) GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO. Born in 1313, place of birth unknown ; by some thought to be Paris, by others Certaldo. Was apprenticed for six years to a merchant, and for six years attempted the study of canon law. 1333 went to Naples on mercantile business, attached himself to the court of Robert of Anjou, and devoted himself to literary pursuits. Neapolitan period, 1333-1350, (except 1341-1344 spent at Florence) ; a period of romantic and poetical production : Filocopo, Teseide, Ameto, D * amoroso. Visione, Fiametta, and Filostrato. 1350 entered the diplomatic ser- vice of the republic ; met Petrarch, 1350 ; became interested in the discovery and preservation of classical manuscripts. Decameron pub- lished 1353. 1363-1373, Period of production of Latin works relating to the study of the classics : De Genealogia Deorum libri XV ; De Montium, Silvarum, Lacuiim, et Murium nominibus liber: De Cast- bus Virorum et Fetninarum Illustrium libri IX; and De Claris Mulieribns. Also other lesser works and Rime in the vernacular. Occupied the chair for the interpretation of the Divine Comedy at Florence, 1373. Died at Certaldo, 1375. FROM THE INTRODUCTION TO THE DECAMERON.* In the year then of our Lord 1348, there happened at *From Kelly's translation in the Bohn edition. 1 6 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. Florence, the finest city in all Italy, a most terrible plague; which, whether owing to the influence of the planets, or that it was sent from God as a just punishment for our sins, had broken out some years before in the Levant, and after pass- ing from place to place, and making incredible havoc all the wajr, had now reached the west. There, spite of all the means that art and human foresight could suggest, such as keeping the city clear from filth, the exclusion of all suspected per- sons, and the publication of copious instructions for the pre- servation of health; and notwithstanding manifold humble supplications offered to God in processions and otherwise; it began to show itself in the spring of the aforesaid year, in a sad and wonderful manner. Unlike what had been seen in the east, where bleeding from the nose is the fatal prognos- tic, here there appeared certain tumours in the groin or under the arm-pits, some as big as a small apple, others as an egg; and afterwards purple spots in most parts of the body; in some cases large and but few in number, in others smaller and more numerous, both sorts the usual messengers of death. To the cure of this malady, neither medical knowledge nor the power of drugs was of any effect; whether because the disease was in its own nature mortal, or that the ph3 7 sicians (the number of whom, taking quacks and women pretenders into the account, was grown very great), could form no just idea of the cause, nor consequently devise a true method of cure; whichever was the reason, few escaped; but nearly all died the third day from the first appearance of the symp- toms, some sooner, some later, without any fever or other accessory symptoms. What gave the more virulence to this plague was that, by being communicated from the sick to the hale, it spread daily, like fire when it comes in contact with large masses of combustibles. Nor was it caught only by conversing with, or coming near the sick, but even by touching their clothes, or anything that they had before touched. It is wonderful what I am going to mention, and had I not seen it with my own e3 ? es, and were there not many witnesses to attest it besides myself, I should never venture to relate it, however worthy it were of belief. Such, GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO. 1 7 I say, was the quality of the pestilential matter, as to pass not only from man to man, but, what is more strange, it has been often known, that anything belonging to the infected, if touched by any other creature, would certainly infect, and even kill that creature in a short space of time. One in- stance of the kind I took particular notice of: the rags of a poor man, just dead, had been thrown into the street; two hogs came up, and after rooting amongst the rags and shak- ing them about in their mouths, in less than an hour they both turned round and died on the spot. These facts, and others of the like sort, occasioned various fears and devices amongst those who survived, all tending to the same uncharitable and cruel end, which was, to avoid the sick and everything that had been near them, expecting by that means to save themselves. And some holding it best to live temperately, and to avoid excesses of all kinds, made par- ties and shut themselves up from the rest of the world, eating and drinking moderately of the best, and diverting themselves with music, and such other entertainments as they might have within doors, never listening to anything from without to make them uneasy. Others maintained free living to be a better preservative, and would baulk no passion or appetite they wished to gratify, drinking and revelling incessantly from tavern to tavern, or in private houses (which were fre- quently found deserted by the owners, and, therefore, com- mon to every one), yet strenuously avoiding, with all this brutal indulgence, to come near the infected. And such, at that time, was the public distress, that the laws, human and divine, were no more regarded; for the officers to put them in force being either dead, sick, or in want of persons to as- sist them, every one did just as he pleased. A third sort of people chose a method between these two, not confining themselves to rules of diet like the former, and yet avoiding the intemperance of the latter; but eating and drinking what their appetites required, they walked everywhere with odours and nosegays to smell to, as holding it best to corroborate the brain, for the whole atmosphere seemed to them tainted with the stench of dead bodies, arising partly from the dis- 1 8 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. temper itself and partly from the fermenting of medicines within them. Others, with less humanity, but perchance, as they supposed, with more security from danger, decided that the only remedy for the pestilence was to avoid it; per- suaded, therefore, of this, and taking care for themselves only, men and women in great numbers left the city, their houses, relations and effects, and fled to the country, as if the wrath of God had been restrained to visit those only within the walls of the city, or else concluding that none ought to stay in a place thus doomed to destruction. Thus divided as they were in their views, neither did all die, nor all escape; but falling sick indifferently, as well those of one as of another opinion, they who first set the example by forsaking others now languished themselves without pity. I pass over the little regard that citizens and relations showed to each other, for their terror was such that a brother even fled from his brother, a wife from her husband, and, what is more uncommon, a parent from his own child. Hence, numbers that fell sick could have no help but what the charity of friends, who were very few, or the avarice of servants supplied; and even these w r ere scarce and at extravagant wages, and so little used to the business that they were fit only to reach what was called for, and observe when their employers died, and this desire of getting mone}' often cost them their lives. Novel II. Abraham the Jew, at the instigation of Jeannot de Chivigni, goes to the court of Rome, and seeing the wickedness of the clergy there returns to Paris, and becomes a Christian. At Paris there lived, as I have been told, a great merchant and worthy man called Jeannot de Chivigni, a dealer in silk, and an intimate friend to a certain rich Jew, whose name was Abraham, a merchant also, and a very honest man. Jeannot, being no stranger to Abraham's good and upright intentions, was greatly troubled that the soul of so wise and well-mean- ing a person should perish through his unbelief. He began, therefore, in the most friendly manner, to entreat him to re- GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO. 1 9 nounce the errors of Judaism, and embrace the truth of Christianity, which he might plainly see flourishing more and more, and as being the most wise and holy institution, gaining ground, whereas the religion of the Jews was dwind- ling to nothing. Abraham answered, that he esteemed no religion like his own; he was born in it, and in it he intended to live and die; nor could anything make him alter his reso- lution. All this did not hinder Jeannot from beginning the same arguments over again in a few da)'S, and setting forth, in as awkward a manner as a merchant must be supposed to do, for what reasons our religion ought to be preferred: and though the Jew was well read in their law, yet, whether it was his regard to the man, or that Jeannot had the spirit of God upon his tongue, he began to be greatly pleased with his arguments; but continued obstinate, nevertheless, in his own creed, and would not suffer himself to be converted. Jeannot, on the other hand, was no less persevering in his earnest solicitations, insomuch that the Jew was overcome by them at last, and said: " Look you, Jeannot, you are very desirous I should become a Christian, and I am so much dis- posed to do as you would have me, that I intend in the first place to go to Rome, to see him whom you call God's vicar on earth, and to consider his ways a little, and those of his brother cardinals. If they appear to me in such a light that I may be able to comprehend by them, and by what you have said, that your religion is better than mine, as you would persuade me, I will then become a Christian; other- wise I will continue a Jew as I am." When Jeannot heard this he was much troubled, and said to himself: " I have lost all my labor, which I thought well bestowed, expecting to have converted this man; for should he go to Rome, and see the wickedness of the clergy there, so far from turning Christian, were he one already, he would certainly again become a Jew." Then addressing Abraham, he said: "Nay, my friend, why should you be at the great trouble and expense of such a journey ? Not to mention the dangers, both by sea and land, to which so rich a person as yourself must be exposed, do you think to find nobody here 20 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. that can baptize you? Or if you have doubt and scruples, where will you meet with abler men than are here to clear them up for you, and to answer such questions as you shall put to them ? You may take it for granted that the prelates yonder are like those }'ou see in France, only so much the better as they are nearer to the principal pastor. Then let me advise you to spare yourself the trouble of this journey, until such time as you may want some pardon or indulgence, and then I may probably bear you company." " I believe it is as you say," replied the Jew, "but the long and the short of the matter is, that I am fully re- solved, if you would have me do what you have so much solicited, to go thither, else I will in no wise comply." Jeannot, seeing him determined, said: "God be with you! " and, supposing that he would never be a Christian after he had seen Rome, gave him over for lost. The Jew took horse, and made the best of his way to Rome, where he was most honorably received by his brethren, the Jews; and, without saying a word of what he was come about, he began to look narrowly into the manner of living of the pope, the cardinals, and other prelates, and of the whole court; and, from what he himself perceived, being a person of keen observation, and from what he gathered from others, he found that, from the highest to the lowest, they were given to all sorts of lewdness, without the least shame or remorse; so that the only way to obtain anything considerable was, by applying to prostitutes of every description. He observed, also, that they were generally drunkards and gluttons, and, like brutes, more solicitous about their bellies than am^thing else. In- quiring further, he found them all such lovers of money, that they would not only buy and sell man's blood in gen- eral, but even the blood of Christians and sacred things of what kind soever, whether benefices, or pertaining to the altar; that they drove as great a trade in this way as there is in selling cloth and other commodities at Paris; that to palpable simon3 r the} 7 had given the plausible name of pro- curation, and debaucheries they called supporting the body; as if God had been totally unacquainted with their wicked GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO. 21 intentions, and, like men, was to be imposed upon by the names of things. These and other things, which I shall pass over, gave great offense to the Jew, who was a sober and modest person; and now thinking he had seen enough, he returned home. As soon as Jeannot heard of his arrival he went to see him, thinking of nothing so little as of his conversion. They received one another with a great deal of pleasure, and in a day or two, after the traveler had recovered from his fatigue, Jeannot began to inquire of him what he thought of the hoh- father, the cardinal, and the rest of the court? The Jew immediately answered: " To me it seems as if God was much kinder to them than they deserve; for, if I may be allowed to judge, I must be bold to tell you, that I have neither seen sanctity, devotion or anything good in the clergy of Rome; but, on the contrary, luxury, avarice, gluttony, and worse than these, if worse things can be, are so much in fashion with all sorts of people, that I should rather esteem the court of Rome to be a forge, if you allow the expression, for diabolical operations than things divine; and, for what I can perceive, your pastor, and consequently the rest, strive with their whole might and skill to over- throw the Christian religion, and to drive it from off the face of the earth, even where they ought to be its chief succor and support. But as I do not see this come to pass, which they so earnestly aim at; on the contrary, that your religion gains strength and becomes everyday more glorious, I plainly perceive that it is upheld by the Spirit of God, as the most true and holy of all. For which reason, though I continued obstinate to your exhortations, nor would suffer myself to be converted by them, now I declare to you that I will no longer defer being made a Christian. L,et us go then to the church, and do you take care that I be baptized according to the manner of your holy faith." Jeannot, who expected a quite different conclusion, was the most overjoyed man that could be, and taking his friend to our Lady's Church at Paris, he requested the priests there to baptize him, which was done forthwith. Jeannot being 22 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. his sponsor, gave him the name of John, and afterwards took care to have him well instructed in our faith, in which he made a speedy proficiency, and became, in time, a good and holy man. Novel hi. Melchizedeck, a Jew, by the story of three rings, escapes a most dan- gerous snare, which Saladin had prepared for him. This novel having been universally applauded, Filomena thus began: Neiphile's story put me in mind of a ticklish case that befel a certain Jew; for as enough has been said concerning God and the truth of our religion, it will not be amiss if we descend to the actions of men. I proceed, there- fore, to the relation of a thing, which may make you more cautious for the time to come, in answering questions that shall be put to you. For you must know that as a man's folly often brings him down from the most exalted state of life to the greatest misery, so shall his good sense secure him in the midst of the utmost danger, and procure him a safe and honorable repose. There are many instances of people being brought to misery by their own folly, but these I choose to omit, as they happen daily; what I purpose to exemplify, in the following short novel, is the great cause for comfort to be found in the possession of a good under- standing. Saladin was so brave and great a man, that he had raised himself from an inconsiderable station, to be Sultan of Baby- lon, and had gained many victories over both Turkish and Christian princes. This monarch, having in divers wars, and by man} r extraordinary expenses, run through all his treasure, some urgent occasion fell out that he wanted a large sum of money. Not knowing which way he might raise enough to answer his necessities, he at last called to mind a rich Jew of Alexandria, named Melchizedeck, who let out money at interest. Him he believed to have wherewithal to serve him; but then he was so covetous, that he would never do it willingly, and Saladin was loath to force him. But as necessity has no law, after much thinking which way the GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO. 23 matter might best be effected, he at last resolved to use force under some color of reason. He therefore sent for the Jew, received him in a most gracious manner, and making him sit down, thus addressed him: "Worthy man, I hear from divers persons that thou art very wise and knowing in re- ligious matters; wherefore I would gladly know from thee which religion thou judgest to be the true one, viz., the Jew- ish, the Mahometan or the Christian?" The Jew (truly a wise man) found that Saladin had a mind to trap him, and must gain his point should he exalt any one of the three re- ligions above the others; after considering, therefore, for a little how best to avoid the snare, his ingenuity at last sup- plied him with the following answer: ' ' The question which your Highness has proposed is very curious; and, that I may give you my sentiments, I must beg leave to tell a short story. I remember often to have heard of a great and rich man, who among his most rare and precious jewels, had a ring of exceeding beauty and value. Being proud of possessing a thing of such worth, and de- sirous that it should continue for ever in his family, he de- clared, by will, that to whichsoever of his sons he should give this ring, him he designed for his heir, and that he should be respected as the head of the family. That son to whom the ring was given, made the same law with respect to his descendants, and the ring passed from one to another in long succession, till it came to a person who had three sons, all virtuous and dutiful to their father, and all equally beloved by him. Now the young men, knowing what de- pended upon the ring, and ambitious of superiority, began to entreat their father, who was now grown old, every one for himself, that he would give the ring to him. The good man, equally fond of all, was at a loss which to prefer; and as he had promised all, and wished to satisfy all, he privately got an artist to make two other rings, which were so like the first, that he himself scarcely knew the true one. When he found his end approaching, he secretly gave one ring to each of his sons; and they, after his death, all claimed the honor and estate, each disputing with his brothers, and pro- 24 SOURCK-BOOK OP THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. during his ring; and the rings were found so much alike, that the true one could not be distinguished. To law then they went, as to which should succeed, nor is that question yet decided. And thus it has happened, my L,ord, with regard to the three laws given by God the Father, con- cerning which you proposed your question: every one be- lieves he is the true heir of God, has his law, and obeys his commandments; but which is in the right is uncertain, in like manner as with the rings." Salad in perceived that the Jew had very cleverly escaped the net which was spread for him; he therefore resolved to discover his necessity to him, and see if he would lend him money, telling him at the same time what he had designed to do, had not that discreet answer prevented him. The Jew freely supplied the monarch with what he wanted; and Saladin afterwards paid him back in full, made him large presents, besides maintaining him nobly at his court, and was his friend as long as he lived. FRANCO SACCHETTI. Born at Florence about 1335. While a young man he became known as a poet, and appears to have traveled in the diplomatic ser- vice of the republic. Exempted from banishment with other mem- bers of the Sacchetti family in 1380, the remainder of his life was passed in official service in and about Florence. Died about the year 1400. Chief literary work the Novelle. NOVEL CXIV.* Dante Allighieri makes sensible of their errors a smith and an ass- driver, who were singing his book in garbled form. That most excellent vernacular poet, whose fame will never grow less, Dante Allighieri the Florentine, was neigh- bor in Florence to the family of the Adimari. It came to pass that a certain young cavalier of that family fell into difficulty, I know not on account of what offense, and was about to come up for sentence, in the due course of justice, *Le Novelle di Franco Sacchetti. Ed. Eugenio Camerini. Milan, 1874. FRANCO SACCHETTI. 25 before a certain magistrate, who was, it seems, upon terms of friendship with Dante. He therefore besought the poet that he should intercede for him with the magistrate ; and this Dante replied he would willingly do. So when the poet had dined, he left home and set out upon his way to accomplish the business ; but just as he was passing by the gate of San Piero, a smith, hammering an iron upon his anvil, was sing- ing Dante, as one sings a ditty, jumbling his verses together, clipping them and adding to them, in such a manner that it seemed to Dante they were suffering the greatest injury. He said nothing, however, but approached the smithy, where were lying the various tools with which the owner plied his trade. Dante seized the hammer and threw it into the street ; seized the tongs and threw them into the street ; seized the balances and threw them into the street, and so on with the remaining irons. The smith, turning about with an angry gesture, cried : ' ' What the devil are you doing ? Are you mad?" Said Dante: "And you, what are you doing ? " " Working at my trade, ' ' the smith replied, ' ' and you are spoiling my tools, throwing them into the street." Said Dante : "If you do not wish that I should spoil your things, do not spoil mine." " How am I injuring you ? " said the smith. Said Dante : " You sing my book, but not as I have made it. I also have a trade, and you are spoiling it for me." The smith, swelling with rage, knew not what to reply, but gathered together his scattered tools and re- turned to his forge, and when he wished again to sing, he sang of Tristan and of Dauncelot, but left Dante alone ; and Dante went his way to the magistrate. But when he came into the presence of that official, it occurred to him that the cavalier of the Adimari, who had asked the favor of him, was a haughty youth with scant courtesy, who, when he went through the city, especially on horseback, rode with his legs outspread, until they filled the street, if it happened to be narrow, so that passers-by were compelled to brush the toes of his shoes ; and to Dante, who was a close observer, such behaviour was always displeasing. Thereupon Dante said to the magistrate : " You have before your court a certain cav- 26 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. alier, charged with a certain offense. I wish to speak a word for him. His manners however are such that he deserves a severe penalty, for I believe that to trespass upon the rights of the public is the greatest of offenses." Dante did not speak to deaf ears, and the magistrate asked in what respect the young man has trespassed upon the rights of the public. Dante replied : "When he rides through the city, he rides with his legs wide from his horse, so that whoever encounters him has to turn back, and cannot continue upon his way." Said the judge : "This may appear to you a trifle, but it is a greater offence than the other of which he is accused." "But see," said Dante, "I am his neighbor. I intercede for him with you." And he returned home, where he was asked by the cavalier how the affair stood. "He replied favorably," said Dante. Some days afterwards the cavalier was summoned to appear and answer the charge against him. He made his appearance, and after he had been in- formed of the nature of the first charge, the judge ordered that the second charge, concerning the loose manner of his riding, be read to him. The cavalier, feeling that the pen- alty would be doubled, said to himself: " I have done a fine thing indeed, when through Dante's visit I believed I should go free, and now I am to be doubly fined ! " Having been dismissed, accused as he was, he returned home, and finding Dante, said: "You have indeed done me a good turn. Before you went to him the judge was disposed to condemn me for one offense, and after your visit he wished to con- demn me for two ; ' ' and much angered at Dante, he added : "If he condemns me I am able to pay, and when it is over I will settle with him who is the cause of it." Said Dante : " I have given you such a recommendation that if } r ou were my own child I could not have given you a better. If the judge is ill-disposed toward you, I am not the cause of it." The cavalier, shaking his head, went home. A few days afterward he was condemned to pay a thousand lire for the first offense and another thousand for the careless riding ; and neither he nor any of the house of Adimari were able to forget the injury. FRANCO SACCHETTI. 27 And this was one of the chief reasons that a short time after he was driven as a Bianco from Florence, not without disgrace to the city, and died an exile in the city of Ravenna. novel cxv. Dante Allighieri, hearing an ass-driver sing his book and say: "Arri," struck him, saying: " I dia I not put that there :" and left him, as the story relates. The last novel moves me to relate another concerning the same poet, which is brief and good. One day as Dante was going along for his diversion in a certain part of the city, wearing the gorget and the armlet, as the custom then was, he encountered an ass-driver, driving before him certain loads of refuse. The driver was going behind his asses, singing the book of Dante, and every now and then as he sang he touched up an ass, and said : "Arri." When Dante came up to him he gave him a sharp blow upon the shoul- ders with his armlet, saying: "I did not put that l Arri' there!" The driver did not know who Dante was, nor what he meant to say, and only struck his asses the more sharply, and again said : "Arrz." When he had gone a little further he turned to Dante, and, thrusting out his tongue and put- ing his thumb to his nose, said, "Take that." Dante, who saw him, said : "I would not give one of mine for a hundred of yours." O gentle words, full of wisdom! How many there are who would have run after the ass-driver, crying and raising a disturbance ; others again who would have thrown stones ; but the wise poet overwhelmed the ass-driver, winning praise from passers-by that heard him with those clever words which he hurled after so vile a man as was the ass-driver. novel cxxi. Master Antonio da Ferrara, having lost at hazard at Ravenna, comes to a church, where lay the body of Dante, and taking the candles from before the crucifix carried them all and placed them at the tomb of Dante. Master Antonio da Ferrara was a most able man, and a poet as well, and something of a courtier ; but he was a man 28 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. of vice and a sinner. Being in Ravenna at the time when Bernardino da Polenta held the signory, it happened that the said Antonio, who was a great gamester, having played one day and lost about all that he possessed, in desperate mood entered the church of the Minorites, where stands the tomb of the Florentine poet, Dante ; and having noticed an antique crucifix, half burned and black with smoke, on account of the great quantity of lights which had been placed before it ; seeing, moreover, that many candles stood there lighted, he suddenly ran to the place, and seizing all the candles and tapers that were burning there turned to the tomb of Dante and placed them before it, saying: "Take them, for j-ou are indeed more worthy of them than He." The people seeing this were full of amazement, and said, "What does he mean to saj 7 ?" and they gazed one at an- other. A steward of the signory, who happened to be in the church at that hour and witnessed what transpired, when he had returned to the palace, told the Signore what he had seen master Antonio do. The Signore, like all the others favorably impressed with the deed, communicated to the Archbishop of Ravenna what master Antonio had done, suggesting that he should summon him, and make a show of instituting a process against him as a heretic, on the ground of heretical depravity. The Archbishop immedi- ately did as he was requested ; Antonio appeared, and when the complaint against him was read in order that he might refute it, he denied nothing but confessed all, saying to the Archbishop: " Even if you should be compelled to burn me, I should say nothing else ; for I have always commended myself to the crucifix, and it has never done me anything but ill, and when I saw them place so many candles before it, half burned as it was (would it were wholly so !), I took away a few lights and placed them at the tomb of Dante, who seemed to me to merit them more than the crucifix ; and if you do not believe me, look at the writings of one and the other. You will conclude that those of Dante are a wonder of nature and of the human intellect ; and that the gospels are stupid ; and indeed, if they contain anything FRANCO SACCHETTI. 20. high and wonderful, it is not surprising, that he who sees everything and has everything, should so express himself. But that which is remarkable is, that a mere man, like Dante, who not only has not everything, but no part of everything, has nevertheless seen all and has written all. And, indeed, it seems to me that he is more worthy of the illumination than the other ; and henceforward I am going to recommend myself to him ; as for the rest of you, you per- form your functions and look well to your comfort, and for love of it you flee all discomfort and live like poltroons. And when you wish to understand me more nearly, I will tell you about it again, for I have not yet played my last coin." The archbishop appeared to be perplexed and said : ' ' Then you have played and 3^ou have lost ? You shall re- turn another time. ' ' Said master Antonio : "If } t ou too had lost, you and all your kind, all that you have, I should be very glad of it. As for returning to you, that will be my affair ; but whether I return or not, you will find me always so disposed or worse." The archbishop said: "Go hence with God, or if you please with the Devil, and unless I send for you we shall not see each other again. At least go and give of these fruits to the Signore which you have given to me." And so they parted. The Signore, informed of what had taken place and amused with the reasoning of Master Antonio, made him a present, that he might be able to go on gaming ; and as for the candles placed before Dante, he took great pleasure in them for several days ; and then he went away to Ferrara, perhaps better disposed than Master Antonio. At the time when Pope Urban the Fifth died and his portrait was placed in a noble church in a certain great city, he saw placed in front of it a lighted wax candle of two pounds weight, while before the crucifix, which was not very large, was a poor little penny dip. He took the wax candle, and placing it in front of the crucifix, said : " It is an evil hour when we wish to shift and change the rulership of the skies, as we change everywhere the powers of earth." And with this he turned homeward. Such a fine and notable speech was this as seldom might happen upon a like occasion. 30 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. NOVEL CCXVI. Blaster Alberto delta Magna, arriving at an inn on the Po, made him a fish out of wood, with which he caught as many fish as he ?aished. This the host lost after a time and went to seek tnasler Alberto, in order that he might make him another, but was unable to obtain this favor. I am about to commence some other novels, and first of all I shall relate one concerning a most able and holy man, whose name was master Alberto della Magna, who, while passing through a certain district of Lombardy, arrived one evening at a village on the Po, which is called the Villa di Santo Alberto. Entering into the house of a poor inn-keeper, where he thought to sup and pass the night, he saw many nets, with which the owner was accustomed to fish, and furthermore he noted many female children : whereupon he asked the host concerning his condition ; how he was pros- pering and if these were his daughters. To which the inn- keeper replied: " My Father, I am very poor and have seven daughters ; and if it was not for my fishing I should die of hunger." Then master Alberto asked him how great was his catch. And he replied : " Indeed, I do not catch as many as I need, and I am not very fortunate in this busi- ness." Then master Alberto, before he left the inn on the following morning, fashioned a fish out of wood, and called the host to him and said : ' ' Take this fish, and tie it to your net when you cast, and you will always catch a great quan- tity of fish with it, and perhaps there will be so many that they will be a great help to you in marrying off your daugh- ters." The poor host hearing this, accepted the gift very willingly, and rendered thanks most profusely to the wise man ; and so he departed that morning from the inn, going on his journey to La Magna. The host, left in possession of the fish, and desirous to put its virtues to the proof, went the same day fishing ; so great a multitude of fish were drawn to the bait and entered into the nets that he was scarcely able to draw them from the water and carry them home. His good luck continued; he did so well that from a poor man he became rich, to such a degree that in a short FRANCO SACCHETTI. 3 1 time he had married off all his daughters. It came about, however, that fortune, envious of such prosperity, brought it to pass that one day, as he was drawing his net with a great number of fish, the cord that bound the wooden fish broke, and the fish was swept away down the Po, so that he was never able to recover it, wherefore if ever there was one who grieved over an adverse circumstance it was he, bewail- ing his misfortune with all his might. And when he sought to fish without the fish of wood, it came to naught ; he could not catch one out of a thousand. Wherefore lamenting: "What shall I do ? what shall I say?" he finally concluded to set forth, and never to rest until he arrived at L,a Magna, at the house of master Alberto ; and to ask of him as a favor to restore the lost fish. And so he never halted until he came where master Alberto was ; and here with the greatest reverence and with weeping he knelt and related the benefits he had received from him ; what an infinite number of fish he had caught and how, the cord being broken, the fish had gone down the Po, and had been lost. Moreover he besought his holiness, that for their welfare and out of pity for himself and his daughters, he should make him another fish in order that he might re- store to him that favor which he had once conferred upon him. Master Alberto turned to him and with a voice full of sorrow said: "My child, I should be very glad if I were able to do that which you ask ; but I cannot, for I must let you know that when I made you the fish which I gave you, the heavens and all the planets were at that hour so disposed as to confer especial virtue upon the fish ; and if you and I presume to say, that this point and this conjunction may re- turn, when another might be made with equal virtue, clearly and surely this cannot happen from now on for thirty-six thousand years : so that you can see if it be pos- sible to reproduce what once I made." Having listened for a while, the inn-keeper commenced to weep bitterly, bewail- ing loudly his misfortune, saying : " If I had known this, I should have bound it with a wire, and held it so firmly that I never should have lost it." Then master Alberto an 32 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. swered : " Child, be still, for you are not the first man that has not known how to retain his luck, which God has sent ; but there have been many and abler men than you who not only have not understood how to use the small opportunity which you have used, but have not even known how to sieze it when it has been put before them." So after much conversation, and with such consolation, the poor inn-keeper departed and returned to his meagre life, still gazing out upon the Po, if perchance he might see his lost fish. But he might look well, for it was perhaps already in the greater sea, with many fish about it, and with it neither man nor fortune. And thus he lived what time pleased God, lament- ing to himself the lost fish, so that it would have been much better if he had never seen it. So it happens every day that fortune shows herself propitious, only to see who has the wit to seize her ; and often times he who best knows how to lay hold upon her, derives no benefit thereby ; and many times it comes to pass that he who knows not how to seize upon her ever afterward laments and lives miserable, saying : "I could have such and such a thing, but would not." Others seize upon her, but understand how to hold her only a short time, as did this inn -keeper. But taking all our happenings together, he who fails to seize the opportunity which time and fortune offers, when he bethinks himself he looks again and finds it not, unless he waits thirty-six thousand years, as said our wise man, which saying seems to me to be in conformity with that which certain philoso- phers have already said, that six and thirty thousand years from now the world will turn into that disposition which it has at present. There have been already in my day those who have left their property so that their children were unable to sell or pledge it, wherefore it appears to me that they hold to this opinion, that they may find their own when they return at the end of six and thirty thousand years. POGGIO BRACCIOLINI. 33 POGGIO BRACCIOLINI. Born at Terranova, in the territory of Florence, 1380. Studied Latin under John of Ravenna, and Greek under Manuel Chrysoloras. An able copyist, he was received into the service of the Roman curia about 1402. Here he served as secretary for a period of fifty years. Poggio acquired fame as a discoverer of classical manuscripts. In 1452, returned to Florence, and the following year was made chan- cellor aud historiographer to the republic. Died here in 1459. Chief works are a History of Florence, the Facetiae and various moral essays. EXTRACTS FROM THE FACETIAE.* XVII. Concerning a tailor of Visconti, by manner of comparison. Pope Martin had charged Antonio Lusco with the prepa- ration of a letter. After having read the same he ordered him to submit it to one of my friends, in whom he had the greatest confidence. This friend, who was at the table and a little warmed with wine, perhaps, disapproved of the letter completely and said that it ought to be re- written. Here Antonio said to Bartholomew de' Bardi, who happened to be present: " I will correct my letter in the same way that the tailor widened the breeches of Gian Galeazzo Visconti; to-morrow, before dinner, I will return and the letter will be satisfactory." Bartholomew asked him what he meant by that. " Gian Galeazzo Visconti, father of the elder Duke of Milan," said Antonio, " was a man of high stature, and ex- cessively corpulent. One day, when he had lined his stomach, as frequently happened, with an abundance of food and drink, and betaken himself to bed, he summoned his tailor and overwhelmed him with reproaches, charging him with having made his breeches too narrow, and order- ing him to enlarge them in such a way that they would no longer inconvenience him. ' It shall be done,' replied the tailor, ' according to your desire; to-morrow morning this garment w r ill fit you to perfection.' The tailor took the breeches and hung them upon a peg without changing them in the least. Somebody said to him: 'Why don't * Les Faceties de Pogge Traduites en Francais, avec le Texte Latin. 2 v. Paris, 1878. 34 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. you widen this garment which the great belly of Monsignor filled to bursting?' 'To-morrow,' said the tailor, 'when Monsignor rises, his digestion finished, the breeches will be quite large enough for him.' Next morning he returned with the breeches and Visconti, drawing them on, remarked: ' Now you see they fit me perfectly; they no longer bind me anywhere.' And in the same way will the letter please," Antonio said, " when once the wine has been slept away." XIX. Exhortations of a cardinal to the soldiers of the Pope. It was in Piceno, during the war which the Cardinal of Spain waged against the enemies of the Pope. The two armies found themselves face to face, and it was necessary that the partisans of the Pope should once for all conquer or be conquered. The Cardinal encouraged the soldiers to fight with fair words: he swore that those who fell in the battle should sup with God and with the angels; that all their sins should be forgiven; hoping by these means to spur them on to give themselves to death. Having come to the end of his promises, he was retiring from the fray, when one of the soldiers said to him: "How about you? don't you want to sup with us too? " " No," he replied, "this is not my hour for supper; I am not hungry. ' ' XXII. Concerning a priest who, instead of priestly vestments, carried capons to his bishop. A bishop of Arezzo, Angelo by name, an acquaintance of ours, convoked one day his clergy for a synod, and ordered all who were clothed with any dignity whatsoever to set out upon the journey with the priestly habits, or as they say in Italian, with cappe e cotte. A certain priest who did not possess these vestments, reflected sadly to himself, not knowing how he might procure them. His housekeeper, seeing him thoughtful with downcast head, asked the reason of his grief. He replied that, according to the orders of the bishop, it was necessary to go the synod with cappe e cotte. " But, my good man," replied the housekeeper, "you have not grasped the meaning of this order: Monsignor does not demand cappe e cotte, but rather capponi cotti ; that is what POGGIO BRACCIOLINI. 35 you must take him." The priest followed the woman's ad- vice. He carried along cooked capons, and was exceedingly well received. The bishop went so far as to say, with a smile, that he alone, among all his brethren, had compre- hended the true sense of the command. XXX VI. Concerning a priest who gave burial to a pet dog. There was in Tuscany a wealthy country priest. He lost a little dog, of which he was very fond, and buried him in the churchyard. This came to the ears of the bishop, who, coveting the priest's money, summoned him for punishment, as if he had committed a great crime. The parish priest, who understood his bishop quite well, presented himself be- fore his superior with fifty golden ducats. The prelate re- proached him sternly with having given burial to a dog, and ordered him to be thrown into prison. " O father," replied the cunning fellow, " if you only knew the wisdom of that little dog, you would not wonder that he deserved burial along with human beings. His intelligence was more than human in his lifetime, and especially at the moment of his death." "What do you mean by that?" asked the bishop. "At the close of his life," the priest continued, "he made his will, and, knowing that you were needy, he left you fifty golden ducats. Here they are." The bishop then approved the will and the burial, pocketed the money and dismissed the priest. LV. A story of Mancini. Mancini, a peasant of my village, used to carry grain to Figlino upon a drove of asses, which he hired for the pur- pose. One time, as he was returning from market, tired with the journey, he mounted upon the best of the animals. As he approached home he counted the asses ambling along before him, and, forgetting the one upon which he was rid- ing, imagined that one of them was lacking. Greatly agitated, he left the asses with his wife, telling her to return them to their owners, and returned to the market, more than seven miles away, without dismounting. On the way, he inquired of every passer-by if he had not seen a stray ass. 36 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. Each one replied that he had not. At night he returned home sad and totally discouraged at having lost an ass. Finally, upon his wife's entreaty, he dismounted and discov- ered that which he had sought with so great pains. L VII. Ingenious retort of Dante, the Florentine poet. Dante Allighieri, our Florentine poet, received for some time at Verona the hospitality of the elder Cane della Scala, a most generous prince. Cane had ever in his company an- other Florentine, a man without birth, learning or tact, who was good for nothing but to laugh and play the fool. His silly jokes, for they were not worthy the name of wit, so pleased Cane that he made him rich presents. Dante, a man of the greatest learning, modest as he was wise, re- garded this person as a stupid beast, as he had reason to. " How does it come to pass," said one day the Florentine to Dante, "that you are poor and needy, you who pass for learned and wise, while I am rich, I who am stupid and ignorant?" " When I shall find," replied Dante, "a master like myself, and whose tastes are similar to my own, as you have found one, then he will enrich me too." Excellent and just reply; for the great are ever pleased with the com- pany of their like. L VIII. Witty reply of the same poet. Dante was one time at the table between the elder and the younger of the Cani della Scala. In order to put the joke upon him the attendants of the two lords threw stealthily all the bones at the feet of Dante. On arising from the table the whole company turned toward Dante, astonished to see so great a quantity of bones at his place. But he, quick to take advantage of the situation, said: " Surely it is nothing to wonder at if the Dogs have eaten their bones. I myself am no dog." LX. Concerning a man who searched for his drowned wife in the river. Another man, whose wife was drowned, searched for her body up the stream. A passer-by, much surprised, said to him that he ought to search for her down the current. ' ' I POGGIO BRACCIOLINI. 37 should never find her that way," replied the man. "She was, when living, so stubborn and self-willed, and so con- trary in her habits, that even after death she would never have been willing to float except against the stream." LXXI. Concerning a shepherd who made an incomplete confession. A shepherd of that part of the kingdom of Naples where brigandage is a profession, came once to seek a confessor, to whom he might relate his sins. Kneeling at the priest's feet in tears, he said : " Pardon me, father, for I have sinned deeply." The priest urged him to confess all, but he hesi- tated for a long time, like a man who had committed some horrible crime. Finally, as the confessor urged him, he said : ' ' One fast-day, as I was making cheese, some drops of milk from the curd which I was pressing flew into my mouth, and I neglected to spit them out." The priest, who knew the customs of the neighborhood, smiled when he heard this man accuse himself of having failed to observe the fast, as if it were a great sin, and asked him if there were not some other misdeeds upon his conscience. The shep- herd said there were not. "Have you not, you and your comrades, robbed or assassinated any traveler, as so often happens in your neighborhood ? " " O, as for that," replied the other, " I have killed and robbed more than one of them, I and my friends ; but that happens so often with us that nobody attaches any importance to it." The confessor had difficulty in making him understand that these were two grave crimes. The shepherd, unable to believe that murder and robbery, which were habitual occurrences in his coun- try, could be productive of serious results, desired absolution only for the milk which he had drunk. Sad result of the habit of sin, which causes the greatest crimes to be regarded as trivial occurrences. LXXV. Concerning the Duke of Anjou, who showed to Ridolfo a rich treasure. They were censuring, in a group of learned men, the foolish anxiety of those who give themselves so many pains and so much labor in searching for and in buying precious 38 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. stones. " Ridolfo de Catnerino," said one of the company, "very cleverly chided the stupidity of the Duke of Anjou, on his departure for the kingdom of Naples. Ridolfo had come to see him in his camp; the Duke showed him objects of great cost, and amongst others, pearls, sapphires, car- buncles and other stones of immense value. After having looked at them, Ridolfo asked what these stones were worth and of what good they were. The Duke replied that their cost was enormous, and that they produced nothing. "Indeed," said Ridolfo, "I will show you, myself, two stones which have cost me ten florins, and which bring me in two hundred yearly." The Duke was astonished; Ridolfo conducted him to a mill which he had caused to be built, and showed him a pair of mill stones: "Behold," he said, "those which surpass in usefulness and profit all your precious stones." CXXIV. Pleasatitry at the expense of an envoy from Perugia. At the time when the Florentines were at war with Pope Gregory, the people of Perugia, who had deserted the party of the sovereign pontiff for those of Florence, sent to that city certain ambassadors to demand aid. One of them, who was a Doctor, began a long discourse, and at the start, as an introduction to the matter in hand, pronounced these words: ' ' Date ?wbis de oleo vestro. ' ' Another of the party, a humor- ous fellow, who detested such circumlocutions, interrupted him: "What is this about oil?" he cried. "You ask for oil when it is soldiers that we are in need of. Have you forgotten that we have come here to ask for arms, and not oil?" "But these are the very words of the Scripture," replied the Doctor. ' ' A fine reason for their use, ' ' retorted the other. ' ' We are the enemies of the church, and you call the Holy Scriptures to our aid! " The humor of this man caused the whole company to laugh; the flow of useless words which the Doctor had prepared was cut short, and they came at once to the point of the negotiation. CXXV. Concerning the Ambassadors from Perugia to Pope Urban. The people of Perugia had also sent three ambassadors to POGGIO BRACCIOLINI. 39 Pope Urban V. at Avignon. On their arrival the pope hap- pened to be severely ill; however, in order not to keep them too long in suspense, he gave orders that they should be in- troduced, but requesting in advance that they should present their affairs in as brief a manner as possible. One of them, a grave Doctor, during the journey had committed to mem- ory a long discourse with which he intended to address the pontiff; and, disregarding utterly the fact that his Holiness was sick and confined to his bed, he set himself to speaking at such length that the Holy Father, at various intervals, betrayed the annoyance which he felt. When the thought- less individual had come at length to the end of his oration, Urban asked the others, with his usual courtesy, if the}' had anything to add. One of the ambassadors, who was sensible of the stupidity of his colleague and of the annoyance of the pope as well, thereupon said: "Most Holy Father, our orders read expressly that if you do not consent at once to our request we shall not retire until our colleague has re- peated his discourse." This pleasantry caused the sove- reign pontiff to smile, and he gave orders that their business should receive immediate attention. CCXXX. How a loud preacher was put to shame. A religious, who preached often, had the habit of crying very loud, as some fools do. One of the women who were present began to weep at the sound of these formidable out- bursts, so that finally the religious noticed her. Persuaded that it was his sermon which had recalled to this woman's mind the love of God, moved her conscience and brought her to tears, he summoned her to him and asked of her the cause of her groans; whether perchance it might be his words that had moved her and caused her to melt into pious tears, as he believed. The woman replied to the preacher that she was profoundly moved and saddened by his cries, and by the sound of his voice. "I am a widow," she said, "and my late lamented left me an ass, by the labor of which I have managed to subsist. This ass had the habit of braying night and day, like your worship; but it is dead, and now I 40 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. am miserable, without the means of living. So, when I heard you speak so loud and with a voice that seemed to me in every way like that of my ass, the thought of the poor beast made me weep in spite of myself." So was put to shame the stupidity of this preacher, who merited rather the name of brayer. DESCRIPTION BY POGGIO THE FLORENTINE OF THE DEATH AND PUN- ISHMENT OF JEROME OF PRAGUE.* Poggio to Leonardo Aretino, S. P. D. When for several days I was staying at the baths I wrote thence a letter to our Nicholas which I suppose you will read. When I returned to Constance, or a few days later, the case of Jerome was taken up, whom they call a heretic, and indeed publicly. I have determined to review this case for you, both because of its importance, and more particu- larly on account of the eloquence and learning of the man. I confess that I have never seen any one, who in a matter of pleading, involving life or death, came so near the eloquence of the ancients, whom we so greatly admire. It was won- derful to see with what words, with what eloquence, with what arguments, with what countenance, with what lan- guage and with what confidence he replied to his adver- saries, and how justly he put his case: so that it is impossible not to regret that so noble and prominent a genius should be diverted to the interests of heresy, if indeed those things are true, which are charged against him. For I have no disposition to pass judgment upon such a case: I leave that to be determined by those who are held to be more expert. Nor do I intend to give a detailed report of the case after the manner of court reporters; it would be too long, and the work of many days. I shall touch upon certain of the more important points, in which you may observe the learning of the man. Although many things had been brought against this Jerome, which seemed to indicate the existence of * Ortvin Gratius : Fasciculus Rerum, etc. Ed. Brown. London, 1690. Vol. I., pp. 170-174. POGGIO BRACCIOLINI. 41 heresy, and these were confirmed by the testimony of wit- nesses; yet it pleased the assembly that he should reply publicly to those charges one by one which had been brought against him. So he was led into the assembly, and when he was ordered to reply to these things he still re- fused, saying that he ought to be allowed to state his own case, rather than to reply to the slanders of his adversaries. In the same way he asserted that he ought first to be heard upon his own behalf, and later he might take up the cal- umnies which his adversaries had directed against himself. But when this concession was denied him, still standing in the midst of the assembly, he said: " How great a wrong is this, that while for three hundred and forty days I have languished in strictest confinement, in squalor and filth, shackled and deprived of everything, you have constantly given audience to my opponents and detractors, and yet re- fuse to hear me one single hour. Hence it follows, that while the ears of each of you have been open to these things, and after so long a time, the}' have persuaded you that I am a heretic, an enemy of the faith, a persecutor of the clergy, yet to me no opportunity is given for defending myself. If you have prejudged me in your minds an evil man, how will you be able to determine what I really am? And (he said) you are men, not gods; not immortal, but mortal, liable to fall into error, to mistake, to be deceived, duped and led astray. In this gathering are said to be the lights of the world, the wiser ones of earth. Most of all it becomes you then to take great pains, lest anything be done inconsider- ately or unadvisedly or against justice. For my part I am a human being, whose life is in the balance; but I say these things not for my own sake, who am but mortal. It seems to me unworthy of your wisdom to set against me so many men in violation of all justice, and a thing likely to be harmful not so much in this instance as by example. These and many things beside he said most elegantly, interrupted in his speech with the noise and murmnrings of many pres- ent. Then it was decreed that he should reply first to the errors which were urged against him; and that afterwards 42 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. an opportunity be given him to speak as he chose. There- upon the heads of the accusation were read one by one from the pulpit and afterwards substantiated with testi- mony. Then he was asked if he desired to make objection. It is incredible how adroitly he replied, and with what arguments he defended himself. He advanced nothing un- worthy of a good man; as though he felt confident, as he publicly asserted, that no just reason could be found for his death nor even for his conviction of the least offence. He declared all the charges to be false, invented by his rivals. Among other things, when in the reading he was branded as a slanderer of the apostolic see, an opponent of the Roman pontiff, an enemy to the cardinals, a persecutor of prelates, and hostile to the Christian clergy, then rising with a voice of complaint and hands outstretched: "Whither shall I turn now, O conscript fathers? Of whom shall I seek aid ? Whose intercession shall I seek ? whom call in my behalf? Not you ! For these my persecutors have turned your minds from my welfare; branding me as the general enemy of those who are to sit in judgment upon me. They have indeed trusted that even if those things which they have invented against me should seem trivial, you would nevertheless crush with your verdict the common enemy and opponent of all, which they have most falsely made me out to be; therefore if you trust their words, there is no longer any hope for my safety." Many he touched with humor, many with satire, many he often caused to laugh in spite of the sad affair, jesting at their reproaches. When he was asked what he believed concerning the sacra- ment, he said, "First it is bread and afterwards the true body of Christ, and the rest according to the faith." Then a certain one remarked : " They say you have declared that it remains bread after consecration." He replied, "At the baker's it remains bread." To a certain other one, of the order of Dominicans, who inveighed bitterly against him, he said, ' ' Peace, hypocrite ! ' ' To another who swore against him on his conscience, he said : "This is the surest way of deceiving." A certain distinguished opponent he never POGGIO BRACCIOLINI. 43 spoke of except as a dog or an ass. When on account of the number and weight of the charges, it was impossible to complete the matter on this day, it was continued to a third day ; when the heads of the various accusations were re- peated and afterwards confirmed by many witnesses. There- upon the accused, rising, said : " Since you have listened so attentively to my adversaries, it is right and proper that you should hear me with unbiased minds." Then notwith- standing much confusion, permission was granted him to speak. He, in the beginning, prayed that God should grant him such understanding and such power of speaking as might be turned to the profit and safety of his soul. Then : "I know, most reverend doctors," he said, "that many very excellent men, bearing up bravely against indignities, overwhelmed with false witnesses, have been condemned with iniquitous judgments." At first he took them back to Socrates, unjustly condemned by his fellow-citizens, he who, when occasion offered, was yet unwilling to escape, lest he should thereby yield to the fear of those two things which seem most bitter to men, imprisonment and death. Then he mentioned the captivity of Plato, the flight of Anaxa- goras, and the torture of Zeno, and the unjust condemnation of many other pagans ; the exile of Rupilius, the unworthy death of Boetius and others whom Boetius himself mentions. Thence he passed to Hebrew examples ; and first instanced Moses, the liberator of his people and their legislator, how he had often been calumniated by his people, called the be- trayer and the despiser of his race. Joseph, first of all sold by his brethren through envy, then thrown into chains upon suspicion of adultery. Along with these Isaiah, Daniel and almost all the prophets assailed with unjust judgments as despisers of God or seditious. Then he brought forward the judgment of Susanna; and of many others of the greatest sanctity, who nevertheless perished by false judg- ments. Afterward coming down to John the Baptist, and then to our Saviour, he proceeded to show how in each case they were condemned by false witnesses and false judges. Then Stephen, put to death by the priesthood, and the 44 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. Apostles, all of them, condemned to death, not as good men, but as inciting the people to sedition, as despisers of the Gods and doers of evil deeds. It was a crime that a priest should be unjustly condemned by a priest, and he showed that it was the greatest crime that this should be done by a company of priests, and proved it by example, but most iniquitous of all, by a council of priests ; and he showed that this had happened. These things he clearly set forth, much to the interest of all, and since the whole weight of the case depended upon the witnesses, he showed with much reason that no confidence was to be placed in them, particularly when they spoke, not out of conviction, but from hatred, illwill and envy. Then he laid bare the causes of their hatred in such a way that he lacked little of bringing conviction. They were of such a character that (except in a matter of faith) little credence would have been given to their evidence. The minds of all were moved and turned toward mercy ; for he added that he had come to Con- stance of his own free will, to clear himself. He described his life and studies, full of services and virtues. Such he said was the custom of the most learned and holiest men of old, that the3^ held diverse opinions in matters of faith, not to the injury of the faith, but to the discovery of the truth. In this way Augustine and Jerome differed, not alone that they held diverse opinions, but also contrary ones ; and this w T ith no suspicion of heresy. But all expected that either he should purge himself of heresy, by retracting the things charged against him, or should ask pardon for his errors. But he asserted that he had not erred, and pointing out the falsity of the charges made by others, was unwilling himself to retract. So coming down to praise John Huss, who had been condemned to be burnt, he called him a good man, just and holy, unworthy of such a death, saying that he himself was prepared to go to any punishment whatsoever, with brave and steadfast mind ; even to deliver himself to his enemies and to those lying witnesses, who sometime, in the presence of God, whom they could not deceive, would be called to account for the things which they had said. Great was the POGGIO BRACCIOUNI. 45 grief of those present ; for they desired to see so worthy a man saved, if he had shown a reasonable disposition. But he persevered in his opinion, and seemed moreover to seek death. In his praise of John Huss he said that Huss had never held opinions hostile to the Church of God itself, but only against the abuses of the clergy, against the pride, the arrogance and the pomp of prelates. For since the patrimony of the churches was first intended for the poor, then for the hospitals, then for the building of churches, it seemed to this good man a shame that it should come to be wasted upon harlots, banquets, food for horses and dogs, elegant garments and other things unworthy of the religion of Christ. But here he displayed the greatest cleverness ; for when his speech was often interrupted with various disturbances, and he was assailed by some who carped at his opinions, he left no one of them unscathed, but turned trenchantly upon them, forced them either to blush or to be still. When murmurs rose he was silent, occasion- ally rebuking the throng. Then he proceeded with his dis- course, beseeching them and imploring that they should suffer him to speak (when they were no longer disposed to give him audience). He never showed fear of these out- cries, but his mind remained firm and fearless. Indeed his argument is worthy of remembrance. For 340 days he lay in the bottom of a foul, dark tower. He himself complained of the harshness of this treatment, but asserted that he, as be- came a good and brave man, did not complain because he had to bear these indignities, but because he wondered at the inhumanity shown him. In the dungeon he had not only no facilities for reading, but not even for seeing. I leave out of consideration the mental anxiety which must have tortured him daily, all memory of which he sought to put aside. Yet when he cited in testimony of his opinions so many of the most learned and wisest of men, and brought forward so many doctors of the church in proof of his con- tention, that it would have been sufficient and more than sufficient, if during all this time, with perfect comfort and quiet he could have devoted himself to the study of wisdom ; 46 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. his voice was full, clear and soft ; his posture oratorical with a certain dignity, expressing indignation and moving pity, which, however, he neither sought, nor desired to obtain. He stood there fearless and unterrified, not alone despising death, but seeking it ; so that you would have said he was another Cato. O, man worthy of the everlasting memory of men! I praise not that which he advanced, if anything, against the institutions of the church ; but I admire his learning, his comprehensive knowledge, his eloquence, his persuasiveness of speech, his cleverness in reply. But I fear that nature had given all these things to him for his destruction. A space of two days w T as given him for re- pentance. Many of the most learned men approached him, seeking to move him from his way of thinking. Among them the Cardinal of Florence went to him, in order to bring him into the right path. But when with even greater obstinacy he persevered in his errors, and was condemned by the council for heresy and burned with fire, he went to his fate with joyful and willing countenance ; for he feared not the fire, nor any kind of torture or of death. None of the Stoics ever suffered death with a mind so steadfast and brave, so that he seemed to have longed for it. When he came to the place of death, he laid aside his garments. Then kneeling down, on bended knee he saluted the stake, to which he had been bound. He was bound first with wet ropes, then with a chain, naked to the stake, and about him were placed great pieces of wood up to his breast, with stakes driven about. When the fire was brought be began to sing a hymn, which the smoke and fire scarcely interrupted. But what most showed his strength of courage was this: when the executioners wished to start the fire behind his back (that he might not see it), "Come here," he said, "and light the fire in front of me. If I had been afraid of it, I should never have come to this place (which it was possible to avoid)." In this manner a man worthy (except in respect of faith), was burned. I saw this death, and watched its stages, one by one. Whether moved by perfidy or stub- bornness, you would surely have said that this was the end LEON BATTISTA ALBERTI. 47 of a man schooled in philosophy. I have chatted to you so at length, because of idleness, for doing nothing, I wished something to do, and to tell you of these things, so like the histories of the ancients. For not Mutius himself suffered his arm to burn with such high courage as did this man his whole body. Nor did Socrates drink the poison so willingly as he accepted fire. But enough of this. Be economical of my words, if I have been too long. The affair really de- mands a longer description; but I do not wish to be verbose. Farewell, my excellent Leonardo. Constance, the third day before the Calends of June; the same day on which this Jerome suffered the penalty of heresy. Farewell, and love me. LEON BATTISTA ALBERTI. Place and time of birth undetermined. Thought to be Venice, in 1404. Alberti's talents covered a wide range of subjects. He is known as a writer of Latin verse, as a musician and as an architect. Em- ployed by Nicholas V. in the restoration of the papal palace and of other Roman buildings. Died at Rome in 1472 (1484). Chief works are upon Sculpture, Painting and Architecture. extract from the Trattato del Governo del/a Eamiglia* Children. What things do you find necessary to a family ? Agnolo. Many things. Good fortune, which is not wholly within the power of men. Children. But those which are within the power of men, what are they ? Agnolo. They are : to possess a home, where the family may be gathered together ; to have wherewith to feed the children ; to be able to clothe them, and to give them learn- ing and good manners. For nothing appears to me so necessary to the family as to cause the young people to be studious and virtuous, reverent, and willing to hearken to advice; for when reverence and obedience are lacking in the young, then vice grows in them from day to day, either as * Edited by Antonio Fortunato Stella, Milan, 1S11. Attributed to Agnolo Pandolfini. 48 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. the result of a depraved nature, or through evil conversa- tion and waste and corrupt habits. Everywhere you see children full of gentleness, pure and diligent, turn out badly through the negligence of him who has failed to govern them properly. It is not the sole duty of the father of the family to keep the granary and cellar of the house filled, but also to watch and to observe, to note what company his children keep, to examine their habits at home and abroad, and to detect all evil practices ; to constrain his children with suitable words rather than with anger and contempt ; to make use of authority rather than force, to refrain from severity and harshness when there is no need ; always to conserve the welfare and repose of the whole household ; to rule the minds of children and nephews so that they shall not depart from the duty and the rule of life ; to provide in advance against every danger which may threaten the famity, kindling in their childish minds love and apprecia- tion of things of worth and value, rooting up all vices, put- ting before them the good example of his own life, and above all restraining the excessive license of youth. So ought children to be reared and educated. Children. We pray God to give us grace so to do. Nephews. And how will you observe good husbandry in this ? We are a large family, we have great expenses, and we all desire to be like you, good managers, moderate, hon- est, continent, to live sumptuously at home and decently abroad. How ought we then to do? Agnolo. As best you may, according as the time is one of prosperity or adversity. I am of the opinion that in our living and in all our affairs reason avails more than chance ; and prudence holds its own against misfortune. Flee idle- ness, wantonness, treachery, indolence and unbridled greed. Be gentle, self-possessed, humane, benevolent and free from ignorance, vice, insolence and pride, and with graciousness and tact seek the good will and affection of your fellow citi- zens. Envy ceases where pomp ends Hatred is extinguished where distinctio?is of rank cease. Enmity is spent where no offence is given. Strive to be that which you wish to appear. LEON BATTISTA ALBERTI. 49 Children and Nephews. These are the best of precepts; but in order that we may completely master your teaching and doctrine, suppose the case that you are of our age, that you have wife and children, (and having once possessed them you are experienced) ; in what manner would you arrange your affairs, — how would you manage ? Agnolo. My children and nephews, if I were of your age I should be capable of many things, which now I may not undertake. The first thing would be to have a home well ordered and appointed, where I should be able to live with all convenience and comfort, without having to move about. Moving about is too harmful, too full of expense, dis- comfort and vexation. Things are lost, mislaid, spoiled, broken, and through these evils the mind is greatly dis- turbed and disconcerted, and it takes some time before you are again well settled. I leave out of account the expense of rearranging the home. I should take care to occupy a clean and wholesome house, well aired (for the age of child- hood has great reason to fear bad air and conditions unfavor- able to health), and I should observe to what age people had lived there, and whether the old people had remained well and vigorous. My children, the well man always wins i?i any case whatsoever ; the sick ma?i ?nay ?iever call himself rich. Children and Nephews. And what seems to you to be requisite to health ? Agnolo. First of all, that which we are obliged to use just as we find it, whether we will or not. This is the air. Next, the other things necessary to our existence: good and sound food, and especially good wine. Children. And in that place you would live? Agnolo. Yes, where I thought it best for me to be, for me and mine. Children and Nephews. What would you do if you wished to change your residence ? Would you buy a home or rent one? Agnolo. Certainly I should not rent; for in time a man finds that he has bought a house and still has it not. If I had not one already, I should buy an airy, spacious house, 50 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. of a size to contain my family, and more, in order that I might entertain one of my friends, if he should come to see me; and I should spend upon this purchase as little money as possible. Children. Would you take a house in an out-of-the-way place, where houses are cheaper? Agnolo. Do not say cheaper. Nothing is dear, if the money is spent on something that suits. Therefore, I should seek to buy a house that would suit me; but I should not pay for it more than it was worth, nor should I show myself an eager purchaser. I should choose a house located in a good neighborhood, in a well-known street, where respectable people were living, whose friendship I might acquire without harm, so that my wife might enjoy the virtuous companionship of their ladies. Moreover, I should inform myself as to who had previously dwelt there, and I should insist upon knowing whether they had lived there sound and well. There are some houses in which it seems that no one can live happily. Children. Indeed you speak truly. We remember to have heard of a beautiful and imposing house. A certain one who lived there lost everything; another remained there alone; another was driven forth with much disgrace. All turned out badly. Nephews. Surely these observations of yours are worth attention : to have a suitable house in a good and reputable neighborhood. And having this, how would you arrange your other economies ? Agnolo. I should see to it that all of mine should live under the same roof; that they should be warmed at the same fire and seated at the same table. Children. We can imagine your pleasure in seeing your- self in their midst, father of all, surrounded, loved, revered as the master of all ; and in the training of youth, which is for the aged the highest pleasure, since virtuous children afford to their parents much aid, honor and praise. In the care of the father lies the virtue of the children. A careful and painstaking father ennobles his family. LEON BATTISTA ALBERT!. 5 1 Agnolo. That is true ; but, believe me, there is yet a greater economy in living behind a single threshold. Children. You say this ? Agnolo. And I will make you certain of it. Tell me : if now it were night and dark, and some one should light a candle in your midst, you, I and these others would enjoy the light sufficiently to read, write and do whatever might be necessary. But if we go apart, one hither and one thither, each wishing to use the light as before, do you be- lieve that one burning candle will suffice for us, as when we were all together ? Children. Truly not. Who can doubt it? For where formerly one light burned for all, now divided and gone asunder, there would be need of three. Agnolo. And now if it should be very cold, and together we had taken coals and lighted a great fire, and now you wish to have your part of it elsewhere, and these others carry their portions away, will you be able to warm your- self as well, or worse ? Children. Worse. Agnolo. So it happens with the family. Many things there are that suffice for many persons living together, but which are insufficient for a few here and there in various places. Quite other power and favor, quite other praise and reputation, quite other authority and credit will he enjoy who finds himself surrounded with his family. He will be more feared and more esteemed than he who goes forth with few about him and without the company of his own people. Much more will the father of a family be recognized and regarded, whom many of his people follow, than he who goes alone. The abundance of persons constitutes the value of the family. Let not the family be divided, for where formerly it was large, there will be but two small groups. The utility and honor of the whole fa mil}' ought to be preferred to that of the individual. The head that is not supported by all the members falls. The divided family is not alone diminished, but every social grade and favor heretofore acquired is lost. Every one respects a united family ; two 52 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. discordant families enjoy no regard. I wish now to speak as a man rather practical than learned, and to adduce reasons in support of my proposition. For two tables two cloths are spread, two fires are kindled, and two fires con- sume two portions of wood. For two tables two servants are employed, where for one table one servant answers. I need not follow out the thought ; you can complete it for yourselves. In dividing one family into two it is necessary to double the expense ; and there are many other disadvan- tages, more evident in practice than in theory. This divid- ing of the family has never pleased me, nor does it please me now ; this going and coming through many doorwaj-s. Nor would my spirit permit that you should live without me, under another roof. Children. For all of which we honor you. Agnolo. Yes, my children, under one roof the family lives to best advantage. However, when the children are grown up, or the increasing family makes the dwelling too small to hold them all, let those who go away at least depart of their own pleasure. Children. O, speech worthy of being held perpetually in memory ! "With one will shall the family stand ! But then when all are at home and desire to sup and dine? Agnolo. Let it be so arranged that they may sup and dine in due season and well. Nephews. Do you mean by that to eat of good food ? Agnolo. Good, my children, and abundant. Not indeed pea-fowls, capons, partridges, pheasants, and other choice food of the kind, which are fit for invalids or for banquets ; but let a substantial table be prepared, so that no one of us, accustomed to our fare, may desire to dine elsewhere, hoping thereby the better to satisfy his hunger. L,et the home table be well supplied with wine and bread. Let the wine be honest, and the bread as well, and with these pure and abundant condiments. Nephews. That is a good idea. And would you buy these things from day to day ? Agnolo. I should not buy them at all, for that would not LEON BATTISTA ALBERTI. 53 be economy. Whoever sells his things, sells only those he no longer cares to retain. Who, think you, will deprive his house of the best rather than the worst, and that which he deems it no longer prudent to retain ? In some cases, how- ever, from need of money, the better articles are sold. Nephews, We are persuaded of it, and he who would be prudent will sell the least valuable first, and when he sells the better articles, he will sell them for more than cost. Agnolo. True. It is desirable, however, to have at hand the things that are needed, to have tested them and to know their season; so that I am better pleased to have them in the house than to seek them elsewhere. Children. Would you wish to have in the house a whole year's consumption at one time ? Agnolo. I should like to have in the house that which is needed, and that which can be kept without risk, annoy- ance or extra labor, or without giving cause for accidents or too much lumbering up the house. That which would not keep I should sell, and refurnish myself from time to time, for it is better to leave the labor and risk of these things to others until the time of their use. Nephews. Would you sell that which you had previously bought ? Agnolo. Insomuch as I might do so, if by keeping it I should incur loss. If I had my choice I should not wish to sell this or that article, because these things belong to low and mercenary occupations. Economy demands that some- times you should lay in a large supply and that you should furnish yourself with everything in season. Still I tell you that I should not like to be obliged to pay out my ready cash every year. Children. We do not see how that can be avoided. Agnolo. I will show you. I should manage to have an estate, which, with less expense than buying in the market, would keep the house supplied with grain, wine, oats, wood, fodder and the like. Then I should raise sheep, poultry, pigeons, and even fish. I should buy this property out of my capital, and not hire it, for then it would be mine and 54 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. my children's, and my nephews' as well ; so that we should have more interest in its care, and in seeing that it was well cultivated, since my successors in their time would reap the fruits of my planting. Nephews. Would you expect to gather from your land in a single location grain, wine, oil, fodder and wood ? Agnolo. Indeed I should. Children. To grow good wine side-hills and a southern exposure are necessary. To grow good grain requires flat land, mellow and light. Good wood grows on the moun- tains and on steep places ; hay in cool, damp meadows. Do you expect to find such a diversity in any one locality ? Are there indeed many localities adapted at once to the vine, to grain crops, to wood and pasturage ? And if you found such a place, do you believe you could acquire it, except at a high price ? Agnolo. I believe it would cost dear. But I remember that in the vicinity of Florence there are many sites in crystalline air, charming country, fine view, few fogs and harmful winds, good water, everything healthful, pure and good ; and many handsome houses, like seignorial palaces (many are built like fortresses, — like castles), superb and splendid edifices. I should seek an estate, such that, taking there a measure of salt, I should be able to feed my family the whole year through, and give them the whole year what they needed — if not all, at least the necessary things, such as bread, wine, oil, wood and corn. To see that nothing was lacking I should often inspect the fields, and indeed the whole estate ; and I should prefer to have it all together, or at least the separate portions not far distant from each other, in order to be able the more easily to go over it both on horse and afoot. Children. A good idea, for then the laborers from one end to the other would not neglect their tasks, and then you would not have trouble with them so often. Agnolo. It is beyond belief how roguery has grown amongst the peasantry. Their every thought is to deceive us; and you may be sure they never err on the side of their ^NEAS SYLVIUS. 55 own disadvantage in your dealings with them. They al- ways see to it that something of your share remains with them. In the first place the peasant asks you to buy his ox, or his sheep, goat, swine or horse. Then he demands a loan to satisfy his creditors; something more to clothe his family, a dowry for his daughter, something to rebuild his cottage or other buildings, farming utensils to be replaced, and he never ceases with his complaints. And when he has been well paid, better perhaps than his master, he still con- tinues to lament and to plead poverty. Something he will always be in want of, and he never talks with you that it does not cost you something. If the harvest is abundant, he always retains the better share for himself. If, on account of bad weather or any other cause, the harvest fails, he sets aside for you the damaged portion, and reserves the greater part of the useful product for himself; the useless and injured he always leaves for you. Nephews. Then it would be better to spend your money in town, in furnishing your house, than to have to do with such persons. Agnolo. Nay, it is useful, my children, to have to do with such persons, and to deal with rustic dispositions, in order that you may better understand how to deal with your fellow-citizens of equal rank. The country people teach us not to be negligent, and if you are careful i?i your own affairs ?ieither your farmers nor other people will be able to cheat you 7/iuch, and you will not be obliged to endure their malice. Indeed, you may laugh at it. &NEAS SYL VI US. Born at Corsignano, near Siena, 1405. Studied at the universities of Siena and Florence. Attended the council of Basel as secretary to the bishop of Fermo. Visited England and Scotland on papal mis- sions. Attached himself to the court of the Emperor Frederick, at Vienna. Effected the compromise of 1447 between Emperor and Pope. Made bishop of Trieste by Nicholas V. Elected to the papacy, 1458. Died at Ancona, 1464, while endeavoring to set in motion a crusade against the Turks. His principal writings are the Commen- 56 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. taries, the Epistles, various treatises on the history of Germany and on the geography of Europe. extract from De Liberorum Educatione* § 2. As regards a boy's physical training, we must bear in mind that we aim at implanting habits which will prove beneficial during life. So let him cultivate a certain hard- ness which rejects excess of sleep and idleness in all its forms. Habits of indulgence — such as the luxury of soft beds, or the wearing of silk instead of linen next the skin, tend to enervate both body and mind. Too much importance can hardl) r be attached to right bearing and gesture. Child- ish habits of playing with the lips and features should be early controlled. A boy should be taught to hold his head erect, to look straight and fearlessly before him, and to bear himself with dignity, whether walking, standing, or sitting. In ancient Greece we find that both philosophers and men of affairs — Socrates, for instance, and Chrysippus, or Philip of Macedon — deemed this matter worthy of their concern, and therefore it may well be thought deserving of ours. Games and exercises which develop the muscular activities and the general carriage of the person should be encouraged by every teacher. For such physical training not only cul- tivates grace of attitude, but secures the healthy play of our bodily organs and establishes the constitution. Every youth destined to exalted position should further be trained in military exercises. It will be your destiny to defend Christendom against the Turk. It will thus be an essential part of your education that you be early taught the use of the bow, of the sling, and of the spear; that you drive, ride, leap and swim. These are honorable accomplishments in every one, and therefore not unworthy of the educator's care. Ponder the picture which Virgil gives of the youth of the Itali, skilled in all the warlike exercises of their time. * From Woodward: Vittorino da Feltre and other Humanist Edu- cators. Cambridge, 1897. iEneas is here addressing Ladislas, the young king of Bohemia and Hungary, who has sought his advice in the matter of education. AENEAS SYLVIUS. 57 Games, too, should be encouraged for young children — the ball, the hoop — but these must not be rough and coarse, but have in them an element of skill. Such relaxations should form an integral part of each day's occupations, if learning is not to be an object of disgust. Just as nature and the life of man present us with alternations of effort and repose — toil and sleep, winter and summer — so we may hold, with Plato, that it is a law of our being that rest from work is a needful condition of further work. To observe this truth is a chief duty of the master. In respect of eating and drinking, the rule of moderation consists in rejecting anything which needlessly taxes diges- tion and so impairs mental activity. At the same time fas- tidiousness must not be humored. A boy, for instance, whose lot it may be to face life in the camp, or in the forest, should so discipline his appetite that he may eat even beef. The aim of eating is to strengthen the frame; so let vigor- ous health reject cakes or sweets, elaborate dishes of small birds or eels, which are for the delicate and the weakly. Your own countrymen, like all northern peoples, are, I know, sore offenders in this matter of eating and drinking. But I count upon your own innate self-respect to preserve you from such bad example, and to enable you to despise the sneers and complaints of those around you. What but disease and decay can result from appetite habitually over-indulged ? Such concession to the flesh stands condemned by all of the great spirits of the past. In Augustus Caesar, in Soc- rates, we have instances of entire indifference in choice of food. Caligula, Nero and Vitellius serve as sufficient ex- amples of grossly sensual tastes. To the Greeks of the best age eating and drinking were only means to living, not the chief end and aim of it. For they recognized, with Aris- totle, that in this capacity for bodily pleasures we are on the same level with lower creatures. As regards the use of wine, remember that we drink to quench thirst, and that the limit of moderation is reached when the edge of the intellect is dulled. A boy should be brought up to avoid wine, for he possesses a store of natural 58 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. moisture in the blood and so rarely experiences thirst. Hence highly diluted wine alone can be allowed to children, whilst women are, perhaps, better without it altogether, as was the custom in Rome. The abuse of wine is more common amongst northern peoples than in Italy. Plato allowed its moderate enjoyment as tending to mental relaxation, and, indeed, temperance in the true sense is hardly consistent with the absolute prohibition of all that might seduce us from our vir- tuous resolutions. So that a young man's best security against excess may be found to lie in a cautious use of wine, safeguarded by innate strength of will and a watchful temper. There is no reason why social feastings should not be dignified by serious conversation and yet be bright and gay withal. But the body, after all, is but a frame- work for the activities of the mind; and so we hold fast to the dictum of Pythagoras, that he that pampers the body is devising a prison for himself Even if we had not the sup- port of the Ancients, it is evident to the serious mind that food and clothing are worthy of regard only so far as they are indispensable to the vigorous activity of body and spirit; all beyond that is trivialty or effeminacy. But this is not to exclude that care for the outward person which is, indeed, demanded from everyone by self-respect, but is peculiarly needful in a prince. § 3. We must now hasten on to the larger and more im- portant division of our subject, that which treats of the most precious of all human endowments, the mind. Birth, wealth, fame, health, vigor and beauty are, indeed, highly prized by mankind, but they are one and all of the nature of accidents; they come and they go. But the riches of the mind are a stable possession, unassailable by fortune, calumny, or time. Our material wealth lies at the mercy of a successful foe, but, as Stilpho said, ' War can exact no requisition from personal worth.' So, too, you will remember the reply of Socrates to Gorgias, applying it to your own case: ' How can I adjudge the Great King happy, until I know to what he can truly lay claim in character and in wisdom ? ' Lay to heart the truth here conveyed: our one sure possession is character; the ^NEAS SYLVIUS. 59 place and fortune of men change, it may be suddenly, pro- foundly; nor may we, by taking thought, cunningly hedge ourselves round against all the chances of life. As Solon long ago declared, no sane man dare barter excellence for money. Nay, rather, it is a function of true wisdom, as the Tyrants found by their experience, to enable us to bear varia- tions of fortune. Philosophy, or, in other words, the inquiry into the nature of virtue, is indeed a study specially meet for princes. For they are in a sense the arbitary embodiment of law; a responsibility which may well weigh heavily upon them. Truly has it been said that no one has greater need of a well-stored mind than he whose will counts for the hap- piness or misery of thousands. Like Solomon, he will rightly pray for wisdom in the guidance of the state. Need I, then, impress upon you the importance of the study of philosophy, and of letters, without which indeed philosophy itself is barely intelligible ? By this twofold wisdom a prince is trained to understand the laws of God and of man; by it we are, one and all, enlightened to seethe realities of the world around us. Literature is our guide to the true meaning of the past, to a right estimate of the present, to a sound forecast of the future. Where letters cease, darkness covers the land; and a prince who cannot read the lessons of history is a helpless prey of flattery and intrigue. Next we ask, at what age should a boy begin the study of letters ? Theodosius and Eratosthenes regarded the seventh year as the earliest reasonable period. But Aristophanes, followed by Chrysippus and Quintilian, would have children from the very cradle begin their training under nurses of skilled intelligence. In this matter of nurses the greatest care is necessary, so subtle are the influences which affect the growing mind. But above all other safeguards stands the unconscious guidance of the mother, who, like Cornelia of old, must instil by example a refined habit of speech and bearing. In religion, I may assume from your Christian nurture that you have learnt the Lord's Prayer, the Salutation of the 60 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. Blessed Virgin, the Creed, the Gospel of St. John, and cer- tain Collects. You have been taught in what consist the chief Commandments of God, the gifts of the Spirit, the deadly sins; the way of salvation and the doctrine of the life of the world to come. This latter truth was, indeed, taught by Socrates, as we know from Cicero. Nor can any earthly interest have so urgent a claim upon us. We shall not value this human existence which has been bestowed upon us except in so far as it prepares us for the future state. The fuller truth concerning this great doctrine is beyond your years; but you may, as time goes on, refer to what has been laid down by the great doctors of the church; and not only by them, for, as Basil allows, the poets and other authors of antiquity are saturated with the same faith, and for this reason deserve our study. Literature, indeed, is ever holding forth to us the lesson, ' God before all else.' As a prince, moreover, your whole life and character should be marked by gratitude for favors showered \ipon you for no merit of your own, and by reverence, which, in all that con- cerns the services, the faith, and the authority of the Church, will lead you to emulate the filial obedience of Constantine and Theodosius. For although the priesthood is committed to the protection of kings, it is not under their authority. In the choice of companions be careful to seek the society of those only whose example is worthy of your imitation. This is indeed a matter which closely concerns your future welfare. We are all, in youth especially, in danger of yielding to the influence of evil example. Above all, I trust that your tutors will keep you clear of that insidious form of flattery which consists in agreeing with everything we may affirm or propose. Extend your intimacy only to those of your own years who are frank and truthful, pure in word and act, modest in manner, temperate and peaceful. Seize every opportunity of learning to converse in the vulgar tongues spoken in your realm. It is unworthy of a prince to be unable without an interpreter to hold intercourse with his people. Mithridates could speak with his subjects of ^NEAS SYLVIUS. 6 1 whatever province in their own language; whilst neglect of this plain duty lost to the Empire and its German sovereigns its fair province of Italy. The ties that bind monarch and people should be woven of mutual affection, and how is this possible where free and intelligible communication cannot exist? As Homer says, silence is becoming in a woman; but in a man, and that man a King, standing before his people, it is rather a shame and a disgrace. §4. But further: we must learn to express ourselves with distinction, with style and manner worthy of our subject. In a word, eloquence is a prime accomplishment in one im- mersed in affairs. Ulysses, though a poor warrior, was adjudged worthy of the arms of Achilles by virtue of his persuasive speech. Cicero, too, admonishes us to the same effect: " I,et arms to the toga yield." But speech should ever follow upon reflection; without that let a boy, nay, a man also, be assured that silence is his wiser part. Such orators as Pericles or Demosthenes refused to address the Assembly without opportunity for careful preparation. A facile orator speaks from his lips, not from his heart or un- derstanding; and forgets that loquacity is not the same as eloquence. How often have men cause to regret the gift of too ready speech, and ' the irrevocable word ' of which Hor- ace warns us. Still there is a middle course; a moderation in speech, which avoids alike a Pythagorean silence and the chatter of a Thersites; and at this we should aim. For without reasonable practice the faculty of public speech may be found altogether wanting when the need arises. The actual delivery of our utterances calls for methodical training. The shrill, tremulous tones of a girl must be rigidly forbidden, as on the other hand must any tendency to shout. The entire word must in every case be uttered, proper value given to each syllable and each letter, with especial attention to the final sound. Words must not, as it were, linger in the throat, but be clearly emitted, both tongue and lips taking duly their respective parts. Your master will arrange as exercises words in which the form or connexion of syllables demands peculiar care in their enun- 62 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. ciation. You remember the device by which Demosthenes trained his voice to reach a crowded assembly. To express yourself, then, with grace and distinction is a proper object of your ambition; and without ambition ex- cellence, in this or other studies, is rarely attained But if speech be, as Democritus said, the shadow of which thought and conduct are the reality, you will be warned by corrupt conversation to avoid the corrupt nature from which it pro- ceeds. We know that Ulysses cunningly guarded his com- rades from the song of the Sirens; and that St. Paul quotes Menander upon the mischief wrought by ' evil communica- tions.' But this by no means implies that we must be al- ways at the extreme of seriousness in social intercourse. In conversation kindness and courtesy are always attractive: pertinacity or pretentiousness are odious; a turgid, affected style arouses contempt. Insincerity or malice are, of course, not mere defects in form but positive sins. So let your ad- dress be frank, outspoken, self-respecting, manly. Nature and circumstances thus provide us with the gen- eral material of speech, its topics, and the broader conditions of their treatment. When, however, speech is considered as an art, we find that it is the function of Grammar to order its expression; of Dialectic to give it point; of Rhetoric to illus- trate it; of Philosophy to perfect it. But before entering upon this in detail we must first insist upon the overwhelm- ing importance of Memory, which is in truth the first condi- tion of capacity for letters. A boy should learn without ef- fort, retain with accuracy, and reproduce easily. Rightly is memory called ' the nursing mother of learning. ' It needs cultivation, however, whether a boy be gifted with retentive- ness or not. Therefore, let some passage from poet or moral- ist be committed to memory every day. BARTOLOMMEO SACCHI, CALLED PLATINA. Born at Piadena, near Cremona, about 142 1. In his youth served four years as a soldier. Later on studied at Mantua and attached himself to Cardinal Francesco Gonzago, who took him to Rome. Be- came a member of the Academy of Pomponius Laetus, organized for BARTOLOMMEO SACCHI. 63 the discovery and interpretation of Roman antiquities. 1475, placed in charge of the Vatican library by Sixtus IV. Died 1481. His chief literary work is entitled: In vitas summorum pontificum ad Sixtum IV. pontificem maximum, praeclarum opus. NICHOLAS v.* He was commendable for his Liberality toward all, especi- ally Learned men, whom he advanced with Money, Court- preferments, and Benefices; whom he would sometimes put upon reading, publick Lectures, sometimes upon writing some new thing, and sometimes upon translating Greek authors into Latin, insomuch that the Greek and Latin Tongues, which had lain hid for six hundred years, at last regained their splendor to some considerable degree. He also sent those Learned Men all over Europe to find out such books as had been lost either by the negligence of Antiquity, or the brutal fury of the barbarous Nations. So that Poggius found out Quintilian, and Enoch Asculanus, Marcus Coelius Appicius, as also Pomponius Porphyrio, a famous Writer upon Horace. Besides, he erected most stately Buildings in the City, and the Vatician: in the city, a noble House for Popes, near .S. Mary the Greater, and repaired 6". Stephen' s Church, that stands in the Mount di S. Giovanni, but built S. Theo- dores, that stands upon the plain between the Palazzo Mag- giore and the Campidoglio, from the ground. He likewise covered the roof of S. Mary the Round which stands in the middle of the City, an ancient Temple built by Agrippa, with Lead, and in the Vatician he not only beautified the Pope's House after that manner which we see, but he began the Walls of the Vatican, very large and high, laying founda- tions for Towers, and a vast Superstructure, whereby to keep the Enemy from plundering the Pope's House, or St. Peter's Church, as formerly was often used. Furthermore, in the *From the Lives of the Popes, from the time of our Saviour Jesus Christ, to the Reign of Sixtus IV. Written originally in Latin, By Baptista Platina, native of Cremona, and Translated into English ****** by Sir Paul Rycant, Kt. London, Printed for C. Wilkin- son, and are to be Sold by A. Churchil at the Black Swan in Ave-Mary lane, 1688. 64 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. upper end of S. Peter's he began a great Gallery, to make the Church more glorious, aud hold more People. He also re- paired Ponte Molle: and built a fine House at Viterbo, near the Baths. Nor only so, but he lent many others money who were a-building in the City ; aud by his order the Streets were paved. He was very Charitable, especially to Persons of Quality if they happened to be reduced to Poverty ; and gave poor Maids a competent Portion when the) 7 were mar- ried. He always received foreign Embassadors very honor- ably and freely. He was easily anger' d, to say the truth, being a cholerick Man, but he was easily pleased again; and that gave some ill-natur'd People the occasion to Carp at him, though he deserved extremely well of God and Man. Then he was so far from Covetousness, that he never sold any Place, nor ever was guilty of Simony. He was kind to them, who deserved well of himself and the Church of God, a lover of Justice, the Author and preserver of Peace, merciful to Offenders, a diligent observer of Ceremonies, and would omit nothing belonging to Divine Worship. The Vessels of Gold and Silver, Crosses set with Jewels, Priestly Robes adorn' d with Gold and Pearls, the arras Hangings interwoven with Gold and Silver, and a Papal Crown, are yet to be seen as Monuments of his Munificence. I do not mention the many holy Books that were transcribed by his Order and Embossed with Gold and Silver : but you may see the Pope's Library, which was wonderfully augmented by his care, and at his charge. He was so kind to the Religious that he gave 'em a great deal of money and Eccle- siastical Benefices besides ; and canonized S. Bernardine of Siena, a Frier Minor, because by his Preaching, Admoni- tions, Reproofs, he had almost extinguish'd the Factions of Italy, that is to say, the Guelphs and the Gibelline Faction, and shew'd Christians the way to live well and happily: whose Body is now to be seen, and daily visited with great veneration, at Aquila. BARTOLOMMEO SACCHI. 65 PIUS II. * ^t $; ^ :£ :£ %■ Moreover, he so ordered his method of living that he could never be accused of idleness or sloth. He rose as soon as 'twas day for his health sake, and, having said his Prayers very devoutly, went about his worldly affairs. When he had done his morning's work, and walked about the Gardens for his recreation, he went to Dinner; in which he used an indifferent sort of Diet ; not curious and dainty. For he seldom bid 'em get him this or that particular Dish, but whatever they set before him, he ate of. He was very ab- stemious, and when he did drink wine, it was always diluted with Water, and pleasant rather than rough upon the Palate. After meals he either discoursed or disputed half an hour with his Chaplains, and then going into his Bed-Chamber, he took a nap; after which he went to Prayers again, and then wrote or read, as long as his business would permit. The same also he did after Supper ; for he both read and dictated till midnight as he lay in his Bed, nor did he sleep above five or six hours. He was a short man, gray- haired before his time, and had a wrinkled face before he was old. In his aspect he bore severity tempered with good-nature, and in his Garb was neither finical, nor negligent, but so contrived it, as to be consistent with the pains which he usually took. He could patiently endure both hunger and thirst, because he was naturally very strong ; and yet his long journeys, frequent labour, and Watchings had impair'd him. His usual Diseases were the Cough, the Stone, and Gout, wherewith he was often so tormented, that nobody could say he was alive but by his Voice. And even in his sickness he was very accessible, but sparing of Words ; and unwilling to deny any Man's Petition. He laid out all the Money he got together ; and did neither love Gold nor con- temn it ; but would never be by, whilst it was told out, or laid up. He seemed not to cherish the Wits of his Age, because three grevious Wars which he had undertook had so continually exhausted the Pontifical Treasury that he was oftentimes much in Debt ; and yet he preferred many learned 66 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. men to places both in the Court, and Church. He would willingly hear an Oration, or a Poem, and always submitted his own Writings to the judgment of the Learned. He hated Ly ars and Sycophants, was soon angry and soon pleased again. He pardon'd those that reviled, or scoff'd at him, unless they injur' d the See Apostolick ; the Dignity whereof he always had such a respect for, as upon that account often to fall out with great Kings and Princes. He was very kind to his Houshold Servants ; for those that he found in an errour, through folly or ignorance, he admonished like a Father. He never reproved any one for speaking or thinking ill of him ; because in a free city he desired everj r body should utter their minds. And when one told him, that he had an *11 Report, he reply'd ; go unto the Campo di Fiore, and you'll hear a great many talk against me. If at any time he had a mind to change the Air of Rome for a better, he went especially in the Summer, to Tivoli, or his own Country, Siena. But he was mightily pleased with the retirement of an Abby in Siena, which is very delightful, and cool too by reason of its situation and the shad}' Groves that are about it. He frequented the baths at Macerata and Petriolana for his health's sake. He used thin Cloths, and his Expences in Silver look'd more frugal than Prince-like. For his whole delight (when he had leisure) was in writing and reading : because he valued good Books more than precious Stones ; for in them he said there was great plenty of Gems. He so far contemn'd a splendid Table, that he went often times to Fountains, Groves, and Country recesses for his own humour, wdiere he entertain'd himself not like a Pope, but an honest humble Rustick. Nor were there wanting some w T ho found fault with this his frequent change of places, especially his Courtiers ; because no Pope had ever done so before him, unless in time of War, or of a Plague. But he always slighted their Cavils, and said, that for all his pleasure he never omitted any thing that befitted the dignity of a Pope, or tended to the good of the Court. In all places he Sealed, heard Causes, Censur'd, Answer'd, Asserted and Confuted ; to give full satisfaction to all sorts of men. He could not eat BARTOLOMMEO SACCHI. 67 willing alone, and therefore invited either the Cardinal of Spoleto, of Tram, or of Pavia, commonly to Dine or Sup with him. At Supper he used to discourse of Learning, and rubb'd up his old Notions of the Ancients ; shewing how commend- able each of 'em was in this or that particular. When he was a youth indeed and not yet initiated into Divinity, he set out Poems that were rather light, and jocular, than serious and grave : and yet sometimes even in them he was elevated, nor did he want satyrical sharpness amidst his merry Conceits. There are Epigrams of his ex- tant, that are full of Wit, and he is said to have written about three thousand Verses, which were lost most part of 'em at Basil. The remainder of his life he wrote Prose onely, his grand affairs rather inclining him to it ; but he also loved a mixed stile, more fit for Philosophy. He set forth several Books of Dialogues about the Power of the Council at Basil, about the Rise of the Nile, of Hunting, of Destiny, of God's Prescience, and of the Heresie in Bohemia. He left an im- perfect Dialogue which he began against the Turks in defence of Christianity. He digested his Epistles into their several occasions and seasons when they were written : and those that he wrote when he was a Dayman, a Clergy, a Bishop, or Pope he put into distinct Tomes : wherein he excites Kings, Princes, and others to engage in the War for Re- ligion. There is an Epistle of his extant which he wrote to the Turk, to persuade him from Mahometanism to the Christian Faith. He also wrote a Book about the Life of Courtiers ; as likewise a Grammar for Ladislans the young King of Hungary. He farthermore composed thirty two Orations, exhorting Kings, Princes, and Commonwealths to Peace, and in defence of Religion, to promote the quiet and Concord of the whole World. He perfected the History of Bohemia, but left that of Austria imperfect. And though he was upon a History of all the remarkable actions of his Time, yet he was never able, for his business, to finish it. He wrote twelve Books and began the thirteenth of things done by himself. His Stile was soft and easie, in which he 68 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. made several excellent and pertinent Sermons. For he could readily move the Affections with handsom and graceful Ex- pressions. He very aptly describes situations of Places and Rivers, assuming various ways of Eloquence, as the occasion required. He was well acquainted with Antiquity ; nor could any Town be mention' d, but be could tell its rise and situa- tion: besides that he would give an account in what Age famous Men flourish' d. He would sometimes take notice of Mimicks for his pleasure: and left many Sayings behind him, of which I thought fit to add some to this account of his Life: to wit: That the Divine Nature was better understood by Believing than by Disputing. That all Sects though con- firm'd by humane Authority yet wanted Reason. That the Christian ought to be received upon its own credit, though it had never been back'd with Miracles. That there were three Persons in the Godhead, not proved to be so by Reason, but by considering who said so. That those men who pre- tended to measure the Heavens and the Earth were rather bold than certain what they did was right. That to find out the motion of the Stars had more pleasure in it, than profit. That God's Friends enjoy'd both this Life and that to come. That without Vertue there was no true Joy. That as a covetous man is never satisfied with Money, so a Learned Man should not be with knowledg; But that he who knew never so much might yet find somewhat to be studied. That common Men should value Learning as Silver, Noble- men as Gold, and Princes as Jewels. That good Physitians did not seek the money but the health of the party diseas'd. That a florid Speech did not move w r ise men but Fools. That those Laws are Sacred which restrain Licentiousness. That the Laws had Power over the Commonalty, but were feeble to the greater sort. That great Controversies were decided by the Sword and not by the Laws. A Citizen should look upon his Family as subject to the City, the City to his Country, his Country to the World, and the World to God. That the chief place with Kings was slippery. That as all Rivers run into the Sea, so do all Vices into Courts. That Flatterers draw Kings whither they please. That King s BARTOLOMMEO SACCHI. 69 hearken to none more easily than to Sycophants. That the tongue of a Flatterer was a King's greatest Plague. That a King who would trust nobody was good for nothing, and he that believed everybody was no better. That it is neces- sary he that governs many should himself be ruled by many. That he deserv'd not the name of a King who measured the Publick by his private advantage. That he who neglected holy Duties did not deserve the Church Revenue, nor a King his Taxes, that did not constant Justice. He said those that went to Law were the Birds; the Court, the Field; thejudg, the Net; and the Lawyers, the Fowlers. That men ought to be presented to Dignities and not Dignities to the Men. That some Men had Offices and did not deserve 'em, whilst others deserv'd 'em and had 'em not. That the burthen of a Pope was heavy, but he was happy who bore it stoutly. That an illiterate Bishop was like an Ass. That ill Physi- cians kill'd the body and ignorant Priests the Soul. That a wandring Monk was the Devil's Bondslave. That Virtue had enriched the Clergy, but Vice made 'em poor. That there was great reason for the prohibiting of Priests to marry, but greater for allowing it again. That no treasure was preferable to a faithful friend. That Life was like a friend, and Envy like Death. That he cherishes an Enemy who pardons his Son too often. That a covetous Man never pleases any body but by his Death. That Men's faults are conceal'd by Liberality, and discover'd by Avarice. That it was a slavish Vice to tell Lyes. That the Use of Wine had augmented the Cares and the Distempers of Mankind. That a Man ought to take as much Wine as would raise and not overwhelm his Soul. That Lust did sully and stain every age of Man, but quite extinguished old Age. That Gold it- self and Jewels could not purchase Content. That it was pleasant to the Good, but terrible to the Bad, to Die. That a noble Death was to be preferr'd before a dishonorable Life in the Opinion of all Philosophers. 70 SOURCK-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. VESPASIANO DA BISTICCI. Born in Florence, 1421. Died 1498. Little is known of Vespasi- ano's life beyond the fact that he was a book-seller, and in this manner came in contact with the leading humanists and patrons of learning of his time. From Life of Nicholas V. — The Papal Library* XXIV. At this time came the year of jubilee, and since it was the true jubilee, that is, at the end of a period of fifty years, according to the law of the Church, the concourse of people at Rome was such that no one had ever known a greater. It was a wonderful thing to see the great assem- blage of people who came. In Rome and Florence the streets were so crowded that the people seemed like swarms of ants; and at the bridge of Sant' Angelo there was such a crowd of people of all nationalities, that they were jammed together, and unable to move in any direction. So great was the crowd, indeed, that in the struggle between those who came to seek indulgences and those who were already at the place, more than two hundred persons, male and female, lost their lives. When pope Nicholas, who felt much anxiety in regard to these matters, heard of the acci- dent, he was much displeased, took provisions to prevent its recurrence, and caused to be built at the approach to the bridge two small churches in memory of so great a disaster as was this destruction of so many men upon the occasion of the jubilee, and he provided for their burial. XXV. A great quantity of money came by this means to the Apostolic See, and with this the pope commenced building in many places, and sent for Greek and L,atin books, wherever he was able to find them, without regard to price. He gathered together a large band of writers, the best that he could find, and kept them in constant employ- ment. He also summoned a number of learned men, both for the purpose of composing new works, and of translating *Vite di vomini illustri del Secolo XV. Ed. Adolfo Bartoli. Flor- ence, 1S59. VESPASIANO DA BISTICCI. 7 1 such works as were not already translated, giving them most abundant provision for their needs meanwhile; and when the works were translated and brought to him, he gave them large sums of money, in order that they should do more willingly that which they undertook to do. He made great provision for the needs of learned men. He gath- ered together great numbers of books upon every subject, both Greek and Latin, to the number of 5000 volumes. So at his death it was found by inventory that never since the time of Ptolemy had half the number of books of every kind been brought together. All books he caused to be copied, without regard to what it cost him, and there were few places where his Holiness had not copiers at work. When he could not find a book, nor secure it in any way, he had it copied. After he had assembled at Rome, as I said above, many learned men at large salaries, he wrote to Florence to Messer Giannozzo Manetti, that he should come to Rome to translate and compose for him. And when Manetti left Florence and came to Rome, the pope, as was his custom, received him with honor, and assigned to him, in addition to his income as secretary, six hundred ducats, urging him to attempt the translation of the books of the Bible and of Aristotle, and to complete the book already commenced by him, Co?itra Judeos et gentes ; a wonderful work, if it had been completed, but he carried it only to the tenth book. Moreover, he translated the New Testament, and the Psalter De hcbraica Veritaie, with five apologetical books in defense of this Psalter, showing that in the Holy Scriptures there is not one syllable that does not contain the greatest of mysteries. XXVI. It was pope Nicholas' intention to found a library in St. Peter's, for the general use of the whole Roman curia, which would have been an admirable thing indeed, if he had been able to carry it out, but death prevented his bring- ing it to completion. He illumined the Holy Scriptures with innumerable books, which he caused to be translated; and in the same way with the humanities, including certain works upon grammar, of use in learning L,atin. The Ortho- 72 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. graphy of Messer Giovanni Tortelle, who was of his Holiness' household and worked upon the library, a worthy book and useful to grammarians; the Iliad of Homer ; Strabo's De situ orbis he caused to be translated by Guerrino, and gave him 500 florins for each part, that is to say, Asia, Africa and Europe; that was in all 1500 florins. Herodotus and Thucydides he had translated by Lorenzo Valla, and re- warded him liberally for his trouble; Xenophon and Dio- dorus by Messer Poggio; Polybius by Nicolo Perotto, whom, when he handed it to him, he gave 500 brand new papal ducats in a purse, and said to him, that it was not what he deserved, but that in time he would take care to satisfy him. The work of Philo the Jew, a book of the greatest worth, of which the Latin tongue had as yet no knowledge; Theo- phrastus De Planlis, a most able work; Problemata Aristoleles; these two were translated by Theodorus the Greek, a man of great learning and eloquence. The Republic of Plato and his Laws, the Posteriora, the Ethics and Physics, Magyia Moralia, and Metaphysics, the Greater Rhetoric, George of Trebisond. De A?ii??ialibus of Aristotle, by Theo- dorus, a most excellent work. Sacred works, the works of Dionysius the Areopagite, an admirable book, translated by Brother Ambrogio. There were before this other transla- tions utterly barbarous. I was told by pope Nicholas that this translation was so good, that one got a better idea from the simple text than from the other texts accompanied with elaborate comments. The wonderful book, De pr¶tiotie evangelica, of Eusebius Pamphili, a work of great erudition. Many works of St. Basil, of St. Gregory of Nazianzus; Chrysostom on St. Matthew, about eighty homilies, which had been lost for 500 years or more; for twenty-five homilies were translated by Orosius * more than 500 years ago, and the work was much sought for by ancients and moderns; for it is written, that St. Thomas Aquinas, on his way to Paris, when, as he was approaching, the city was pointed out to him, said: "I would rather at this moment have St. * (?) Oronzio in the original. VESPASIANO DA BISTICCI. 73 John Chrysostom on St. Matthew than Paris." Such a reputation it had! This was translated by George of Trebisond. Cyril on Genesis, and on St. John, excellent works. Many other works translated and composed at the desire of his Holiness, of which I have no knowledge. I have mentioned only those of which I have knowledge. From Life of Frederick of Urbino. — The Ducal Library. XXVIII. Coming to the holy doctors, who are in Latin, he wished to have all the works of the four doctors ; and what letters ! what books ! and how excellent ! having no regard for expense. The four doctors having been finished, he then desired all the works of St. Bernard, and all the holy doctors of antiquity; he desired that none should be wanting: Ter- tullian, Hilary, Remi, Hugh of St. Victor, Isidore, An- selm, Rabanus Maurus, and all the holy doctors of antiquity that have ever written. Coming from the Latins to the sacred writers of the Greeks, which are converted into Latin, he desired in Latin the works of Dionysius the Areopagite, of St. Basil, Cyril, Gregory of Nazianzus, John of Damas- cus, John Chrysostom, Gregory of Nyssa, Eusebius, all his works, Ephraem the Monk, the most excellent writer Origen. Coming to the Latin doctors, as well in philosophy as in theology, all the works of St. Thomas Aquinas, all the works of Albertus Magnus, all the works of Alexander of Hales, all the works of Scotus, all the works of Bonaveutura, the works of Richard of Mediavilla;* all the works of the Archbishop Antoninus, and all the modern doctors who are of authority, he wished to have, down to the Conformities of St. Francis; all the works upon civil law, most beautiful texts ; all the lectures of Bartolo, in kid-skin, and many writers in civil law. The Bible, most excellent book, he had done in two pictured volumes, as rich and fine as might be made, covered with gold brocade, en- riched with silver; and he had this done so elegantty, as the the first of all writings. And all the commentaries, those of * Richard of Bury (?) 74 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. the Master of the Sentences, of Nicholas de Lyra, and all the doctors of antiquity who have written commentaries, as well the Latins as the Greeks, and all the glossary of Nich- olas de Lyra; this is a book like to which in this age no other has been made. All the writers on astronomy and their commentaries ; all the works on geometry with com- mentaries; all the works on arithmetic; all the works on architecture, all the works De re militari, all books treating of the machines of the ancients for conquering a country, and those of the moderns, which was a very remarkable volume. Books of painting, of sculpture, of music, of canon law, and all the texts and lectures and the Summa of the bishop of Ostia, and more works in this department. Speculum imiocentice. In medicine all the works of Avicenna, all the works of Hippocrates, of Galen, the Continente of Almansor plus quam commentum, all the works of Averroes, both on logic and on natural and moral philosophy. A book of all the ancient councils; all the works of Boetius, as well on logic as on philosophy and on music. XXIX. All the works of the modern writers, commenc- ing with pope Pius. He has all the works of Petrarch, both Latin and vulgar ; all the works of Dante, Latin and vulgar ; all the works of Boccaccio in Latin ; all the works of messer Coluccio ; all the works of messer Leonardo d' Arezzo, both original and translations ; all the works of Brother Ambrogio, original and translations ; all the works of messer Gianozzo Manetti, as well original as translations ; all the works of Guerrino, original and translations ; all the works of Panormita, as well in verse as in prose ; all the works of messer Francisco Filelfo, both in prose and in verse, original and translations ; all the works of Perotti, translations and original ; all the works of Campano, in prose and in verse ; all the original works of Maffeo Vegio ; all the works of Nicolo Secondino, translations and original, he who was interpreter for the Greeks and Latins at the council of the Greeks in Florence ; all the works of Ponta- nus, original and translations ; all the works of Bartolomeo Fazi, translations and original ; all the works of Gasparino ; VESPASIANO DA BISTICCI. 75 all the works of Pietro Paulo Vergerio, original and transla- tions ; all the works of messer John Argyropolus, translated, that is : the whole of the Philosophy and Logic of Aristotle, as well moral as natural, except the Politics ; all the works of messer Francisco Barbaro, translations and original ; all the works of messer Leonardo Giustiniano, both original and translations ; all the works of Donato Acciaiuoli, original and translations ; all the original works of Alamanno Renuccini ; all the original works of messer Cristofano da Prato Vecchio ; all the works of messer Poggio, both trans- lations and original ; all the works of messer Giovanni Tortella, both original and translations ; all the translations of messer Francesco d' Arezzo, who lived at the court of King Ferrando ; all the works of Lorenzo Valla, translations and original. XXX. Having acquired all the books of every depart- ment which were to be found, written both by ancient and modern doctors, and translations as well in every branch, he desired to have all the Greek books that were to be found ; all the works of Aristotle in Greek ; all the works of Plato, each volume bound in the finest kid-skin ; all the works of Homer in one volume, the Iliad, the Odyssey and the Batracomiomachia ; all the works of Sophocles; all the works of Pindar ; all the works of Menander ; and as well all the poets that were to be found in the Greek tongue ; all the Lives of Plutarch, in one most excellent volume ; the Cosmography of Ptolemy, with illustrations, in Greek, a most excellent book ; all the moral works of Plutarch, a most worthy book ; all the works of Herodotus, of Pausa- nias, of Thucydides, of Polybius ; all the works of Demos- thenes and of Aeschines ; Plotinus the philosopher, all his works; all the commentaries that are found among the Greeks, as for example the commentaries upon Aristotle ; all the works of Theophrastus, the Physica de plantis ; all the Greek lexicographers, the Greek with the Latin explana- tion ; all the works of Hippocrates and of Galen ; all the works of Xenophon ; part of the Bible in Greek ; all the works of St. Basil ; all the works of St. John Chrysostom ; 76 SOURCE-BOOK OP THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. all the works of St. Athanasius, of St. John of Damascus ; all the works of St. Gregory of Nazianzus, of Gregory of Nyssa, of Origen, of Dionysius the Areopagite, of John Climacus, of St. Ephraem the Monk, of Aeneas the Sophist ; the Collations of John Cassianus, the Book of Paradise, Vitae sandomm pat mm ex Aegypto ; the Lives of Barlaam and Josaphat ; a Psalter in three tongues, a wonderful thing, in Hebrew, Greek and Latin, verse for verse, a most excellent book ; all the books on geometry, on arithmetic, and on astronomy that are found in any language. There are numerous Greek books, by various authors, which when he was not able to get them otherwise, he sent for them, desiring that nothing should be wanting in any tongue which it was possible to acquire. There were to be seen Hebrew books, all that could be found in that language, be- ginning with the Bible, and all those who have commented upon it, rabbi Moses, and other commentators. Not only are these Hebrew books the Holy Scriptures, but also on medicine, on philosophy and in all branches, all that could be acquired in that tongue. XXXI. His Lordship having completed this worthy task at the great expense of more than 30,000 ducats, among the other excellent and praiseworthy arrangements which he made was this, that he undertook to give to each writer a title, and this he desired should be covered with crimson em- bellished with silver. He began, as has been noted above, with the Bible, as the foremost of all, and had it covered, as was said, with gold brocade. Then beginning with all the doctors of the Church, he had each one covered with crim- son and embellished with silver ; and so with the Greek doctors as well as with the Latins. As well philosophy, history and books on medicine and all the modern doctors; in such a manner that there are innumerable volumes of this kind, a thing gorgeous to behold. In this library all the books are beautiful in the highest degree, all written with the pen, not one printed, that it might not be disgraced thereby; all elegantly illuminated, and there is not one that is not written on kid-skin. There is a singular thing about VESPASIANO DA BISTICCI. 77 this library, which is not true of any other; and this is, that of all the writers, sacred as well as profane, original works as well as translations, not a single page is wanting from their works, in so far as they are in themselves complete ; which cannot be said of any other library, all of which have portions of the works of a writer, but not all ; and it is a great distinction to possess such perfection. Some time be- fore I went to Ferrara, being at Urbiuo at his Lordship's court, and having catalogues of all the libraries of Italy, commencing with that of the pope, of St. Mark at Florence, of Pavia, — and I had even sent to England to obtain a cata- logue of the library of the university of Oxford, — I compared these with that of the duke, and I saw that all were faulty in one particular; that they had numerous copies of the same work, but they had not all the works of one writer complete as this had; nor were there writers of every branch as in this. From the Life of Cosimo de 1 Medici. — Founding a Library. XII. When he had finished the residence and a good part of the church, he fell to thinking how he should have the place peopled with honest men of letters ; and in this way it occurred to him to found a fine library ; and one day when I happened to be present in his chamber, he said to me: " In what way would you furnish this library?" I replied that as for buying the books it would be impossible, for they were not to be had. Then he said : " How is it possible then to furnish it?" I told him that it would be necessary to have the books copied. He asked in reply if I would be willing to undertake the task. I answered him, that I was willing. He told me to commence my work and he would leave everything to me ; and as for the money that would be necessary he would refer the matter to Don Archangel, then prior of the monastery, who would draw bills upon the bank, which should be paid. The library was commenced at once, for it was his pleasure that it should be done with the utmost possible celerity; and as I did not lack for money I collected in a short time forty -five writers, and finished 200 volumes in twenty-two months; in 78 SOURCK-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. which work we made use of an excellent arrangement, that of the library of pope Nicholas, which he had given to Cosimo, in the form of a catalogue made out with his own hands. XIII. Coming to the arrangement of the library, in the first place there is the Bible and the Concordance, with all their commentaries, as well ancient as modern. And the first writer who commenced to comment on the Holy Scriptures, and who indicated the manner of commenting to all the others, was Origen ; he wrote in Greek, and St. Jerome translated a part of his works, on the five books of Moses. These are the works of St. Ignatius the martyr, who wrote in Greek, and was a disciple of St. John the Evangelist ; most fervent in his Christian zeal, he wrote and preached and for this won the crown of martyrdom. There are the works of St. Basil, bishop of Cappadocia, a Greek ; of St. Gregory of Nazianzus, of Gregory of Nyssa, his brother, of St. John Chrysostom, of St. Athanasius of Alexandria, of St. Ephraem the Monk, of John Climacus, also a Greek ; all the works of the Greek doctors that are translated into Latin are there. Then follow the holy doctors and holy writers in Latin, beginning with the works of Lactantius, who was very ancient and had praiseworthy qualifications ; Hilary of Poitou, a most solemn doctor ; St. Cyprian of Carthage, most elegant and saintly ; the works of Tertullian, the learned Carthaginian. Then follow the four doctors of the Latin church, and all their works are here ; and there is no other library that has these works complete. Then begin the works of St. Jerome ; all the works of St. Gregory, the moral doctor ; all the works of St. Bernard the Abbot, of Hugh of St. Victor, of St. Anselm, of St. Isidore, bishop of Seville, of Bede, of Rabanus Maurus. Coming then to the modern doctors, of St. Thomas Aquinas, of Albert Magnus, of Alexander of Hales, of St. Bonaven- tura ; the works of the Archbishop Antonino of Florence, that is, his Stimma. XIV. Coming to the philosophers, all the works of Aris- totle, both his moral and natural Philosophy; all the com- VESPASIANO DA BISTICCI. 79 mentaries of St. Thomas and Albertus Magnus on the phil- osophy of Aristotle, and still other commentators upon the same; his Logic and other modern systems of Logic. In canon law, the Decretum, the Decretals, Liber Sexius, the Clementines, the Summa of the bishop of Ostia; Innoceutius; Lectures of the bishop of Ostia on the Decretals; Giovanni Andrea, on Liber Sextus, and an anonymous lecture on the Decretum, and still other works on canon law by the abbott of Cicilia and others. Of histories, all the Ten of Livy ; Caesar's Commentaries; Suetonius Tranquillus, The Lives of the Emperors; Plutarch's Lives; Quiutus Curtius, the Deeds of Alexander the Great; Sallust, De bello Jugurthino et Catilinario ; Valerius Maximus, The Memorable Deeds and Sayings of the Ancients; Emilius Probus, Great Leaders of Foreign Peoples; a history by Ser Zembino, who com- menced at the beginning of the world, and came down to pope Celestine, a work of great information; the Ecclesiastical History of Eusebius Pamphili, and De temporibus ; the His- toriale of Vincenzo; all the works of Tully in three volumes; all the works of Seneca in one volume; Quintilian, De insti- tutione oratoria, and the Declamations; Vocabulista ; Nonius Marcellus; Pompeius Festus; the Elegantiaeoi Valla; Papias; Uguccione ; Catholicon. Poets : Virgil, Terence, Ovid, Lucan, Statius, the tragedies of Seneca, Plautus. Of gram- marians, Priscian. And all the other works necessary to a library, of which no one was wanting; and since there were not copies of all these works in Florence, we sent to Milan, to Bologna and to other places, wherever they might be found. Cosimo lived to see the library wholly completed, and the cataloguing and the arranging of the books; in all of which he took great pleasure, and the work went forward, as was his custom, with great promptness. 80 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. LORENZO DE' MEDICI. Born at Florence, 1449. Studied under the guidance of Ficino and other literati of the Medicaean court. Assumed chief political power at age of twenty-one, upon the occasion of the death of his father, Piero, and ruled until his death in 1492. Obtained from Pope Inno- cent VIII. that his son Giovanni (afterwards Leo X., b. 1475-d. 1521) was made Cardinal at the age of fourteen. Participated actively in the literary labors of the distinguished group of men, whose protector and support he was. His most important productions were in verse. Lorenzo de' Medici to Giovanni de' Medici, Cardinal * You, and all of us who are interested in your welfare, ought to esteem ourselves highly favored by Providence, not only for the many honours and benefits bestowed upon our house, but more particularly for having conferred upon us, in your person, the greatest dignity we have ever en- joyed. This favor, in itself so important, is rendered still more so by the circumstances with which it is accompanied, and especially by the consideration of your youth and of our situation in the world. The first that I would therefore suggest to you is that you ought to be grateful to God, and continually to recollect that it is not through your merits, your prudence, or your solicitude, that this event has taken place, but through his favour, which you can only repay by a pious, chaste and exemplary life ; and that your obliga- tions to the performance of these duties are so much the greater, as in your early years you have given some reason- able expectations that your riper age may produce such fruits. It would indeed be highly disgraceful, and as con- trary to your duty as to my hopes, if, at a time when others display a greater share of reason and adopt a better mode of life, you should forget the precepts of your youth, and for- sake the path in which you have hitherto trodden. Endeavor therefore to alleviate the burthen of your early dignity by the regularity of your life and by your perseverance in those studies which are suitable to your profession. It gave me great satisfaction to learn, that, in the course of the past * From Roscoe's Life of Lorenzo de' Medici. LORENZO DE' MEDICI. 8 1 year, you had frequently, of your own accord, gone to com- munion and confession ; nor do I conceive that there is any better way of obtaining the favor of heaven than by habitu- ating yourself to a performance of these and similar duties. This appears to me to be the most suitable and useful advice which, in the first instance, I can possibly give you. I well know, that as you are now to reside at Rome, that sink of all iniquity, the difficulty of conducting yourself by these admonitions will be increased. The influence of ex- ample is itself prevalent; but you will probably meet with those who will particularly endeavor to corrupt and incite you to vice; because, as you may yourself perceive, your early attainment to so great a dignity is not observed with- out envy, and those who could not prevent your receiving that honour will secretly endeavor to diminish it, by induc- ing you to forfeit the good estimation of the public; thereby precipitating you into that gulf into which they had them- selves fallen; in which attempt, the consideration of your youth will give them a confidence of success. To these diffi- culties you ought to oppose yourself with the greater firm- ness, as there is at present less virtue amongst your breth- ren of the college. I acknowledge indeed that several of them are good and learned men, whose lives are exemplary, and whom I would recommend to you as patterns of your conduct. By emulating them you will be so much the more known and esteemed, in proportion as your age and the pe- culiarity of your situation will distinguish you from your colleagues. Avoid, however, as you would Scylla or Cha- rybdis, the imputation of hypocrisy; guard against all osten- tation, either in your conduct or your discourse; affect not austerity, nor even appear too serious. This advice, you will, I hope, in time understand and practice better than I can express it. Yet you are not unacquainted with the great importance of the character which you have to sustain, for you well know that all the Christian world would prosper if the cardi- nals were what they ought to be; because in such a case there would always be a good pope, upon which the tran- 82 SOURCE-BOOK OP THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. quility of Christendom so materially depends. Endeavor then to render yourself such, that if all the rest resembled you, we might expect this universal blessing. To give you particular directions as to your behaviour and conversation would be a matter of no small difficulty. I shall therefore only recommend, that in your intercourse with the cardinals and other men of rank, your language be unassuming and respectful, guiding yourself, however, by your own reason, and not submitting to be impelled by the passions of others, who, actuated by improper motives, may pervert the use of their reasons. L,et it satisfy your conscience that your con- versation is without intentional offence; and if, through im- petuosity of temper, any one should be offended, as his en- mity is without just cause, so it will not be very lasting. On this your first visit to Rome, it will however be more advisa- ble for you to listen to others than to speak much yourself. You are now devoted to God and the church: on which account you ought to aim at being a good ecclesiastic, and to shew that you prefer the honor and state of the church and of the apostolic see to every other consideration. Nor, while you keep this in view, will it be difficult for you to favour 3'our family and your native place. On the contrary, you should be the link to bind this city closer to the church, and our family with the city; and although it be impossible to foresee what accidents may happen, yet I doubt not but this may be done with equal advantage to all; observing, how- ever, that you are always to prefer the interests of the church. You are not only the youngest cardinal in the college, but the youngest person that ever was raised to that rank; and you ought therefore to be the most vigilant and unassuming, not giving others occasion to wait for you, either in the chapel, the consistory or upon deputations. You will soon get a sufficient insight into the manners of your brethren. With those of less respectable character converse not with too much intimacy; not merely on account of the circum- stance in itself, but for the sake of public opinion. Con- verse on general topics with all. On public occasions let your equipage and address be rather below than above med- LORENZO DE' MEDICI. 83 iocrity. A handsome house and a well-ordered family will be preferable to a great retinue and a splendid residence. Endeavor to live with regularity, and gradually to bring your expenses within those bounds which in a new establish- ment cannot perhaps be expected. Silk and jewels are not suitable for persons in your station. Your taste will be better shewn in the acquisition of a few elegant remains of antiquity, or in the collecting of handsome books, and by your attendants being learned and well-bred rather than nu- merous. Invite others to your house oftener than you re- ceive invitations. Practise neither too frequently. Let your own food be plain, and take sufficient exercise, for those who wear your habit are soon liable, without great caution, to contract infirmities. The station of a cardinal is not less secure than elevated; on which account those who arrive at it too frequently become negligent; conceiving their object is attained and that they can preserve it with little trouble. This idea is often injurious to the life and charac- ter of those who entertain it. Be attentive therefore to your conduct, and confide in others too little rather than too much. There is one rule which I would recommend to your atten- tion in preference to all others. Rise early in the morning. This will not only contribute to your health, but will enable you to arrange and expedite the business of the day; and as there are various duties incident to your station, such as the performance of divine service, studying, giving audience, and so forth, you will find the observance of this admonition productive of the greatest utility. Another very necessary precaution, particularly on your entrance into public life, is to deliberate every evening on what you may have to per- form the following day, that you may not be unprepared for whatever may happen. With respect to your speaking in the consistory, it will be most becoming for you at present to refer the matters in debate to the judgment of his holiness, alleging as a reason your own youth and inexperience. You will probably be desired to intercede for the favours of the pope on particular occasions. Be cautious, however, that you trouble him not too often; for his temper leads him to be 84 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. most liberal to those who weary him least with their solici- tations. This you must observe, lest you should give him offence, remembering also at times to converse with him on more agreeable topics; and if you should be obliged to request some kindness from him, let it be done with that modesty and humility which are so pleasing to his disposi- tion. Farewell. NICOLU MACHIAVELLI. Born at Florence, 1469. Entered at the age of twenty-nine into the service of the Signory. Was prominent in the affairs of the republic, after the banishment of the Medici, until their return in 1512. Driven from Florence, he retired to his patrimony near San Casciano, and de- voted himself to literary work. Resumed his official career under Clement VII. Died, 1527. His greater works are the Prince, the History of Florence, the Discourses on Livy and a treatise on the Art of War. SELECTIONS FROM THE PRINCE.* Chapter XVIII. How far a Prifice is obliged by his Promise. How honorable it is for a prince to keep his word, and act rather with integrity than collusion, I suppose everybody understands : nevertheless experience has shown in our times that those princes who have not pinned themselves up to that punctuality and preciseness have done great things, and by their cunning and subtilty not only circumvented, and darted the brains of those with whom they had to deal, but have overcome and been too hard for those who have been so superstitiously exact. For further explanation you must understand there are two ways of contending, by law and by force : the first is proper to men ; the second to beasts ; but because many times the first is insufficient, re- course must be had to the second. It belongs, therefore, to a prince to understand both, when to make use of the rational and when of the brutal way ; and this is recom- mended to princes, though abstrusely, by ancient writers, *Morley's edition in the Universal Librae, in which the reading of the folio of 1674 has been reproduced. NICOI.6 MACHIAVEIXI. 85 who tell them how Achilles and several other princes were committed to the education of Chiron the Centaur, who was to keep them under his discipline, choosing them a master, half man and half beast, for no other reason but to show how necessary it is for a prince to be acquainted with both, for that one without the other will be of little duration. Seeing, therefore, it is of such importance to a prince to take upon him the nature and disposition of a beast, of all the whole flock he ought to imitate the lion and the fox ; for the lion is in danger of toils and snares, and the fox of the wolf ; so that he must be a fox to find out the snares, and a lion to fright away the wolves, but they who keep wholly to the lion have no true notion of themselves. A prince, therefore, who is wise and prudent, cannot or ought not to keep his parole, when the keeping of it is to his prejudice, and the causes for which he promised removed. Were men all good this doctrine was not to be taught, but because they are wicked and not likely to be punctual with you, you are not obliged to any such strictness with them ; nor was there ever any prince that wanted lawful pretence to justify his breach of promise. I might instance in many modern examples, and show how many confederations, and peaces, and promises have been broken by the infidelity of princes, and how he that best personated the fox had the better suc- cess. Nevertheless, it is of great consequence to disguise your inclination, and to play the hypocrite well ; and men are so simple in their temper and so submissive to their present necessities, that he that is neat and cleanly in his collusions shall never want people to practice them upon. I cannot forbear one example which is still fresh in our memory. Alexander VI. never did, nor thought of, any- thing but cheating, and never wanted matter to work upon ; and though no man promised a thing with greater assevera- tion, nor confirmed it with more oaths and imprecations, and observed them less, yet understanding the world well he never miscarried. A prince, therefore, is not obliged to have all the fore- mentioned good qualities in reality, but it is necessary to 86 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. have them in appearance: nay, I will be bold to affirm that, having them actually, and employing them upon all occa- sions, they are extremely prejudicial, whereas, having them only in appearance, they turn to better account; it is honor- able to seem mild, and merciful, and courteous, and religious, and sincere, and indeed to be so, provided your mind be so rectified and prepared that you can act quite contrary upon occasion. And this must be premised, that a prince, espec- ially if come but lately to the throne, cannot observe all those things exactly which make men be esteemed virtuous, being often necessitated, for the preservation of his State, to do things inhuman, uncharitable, and irreligious; and, there- fore, it is convenient his mind be at his command, and flexi- ble to all the puffs and variations of fortune; not forbearing to be good whilst it is in his choice, but knowing how to be evil when there is a necessity. A prince, then, is to have particular care that nothing falls from his mouth but what is full of the five qualities aforesaid, and that to see and to hear him he appears all goodness, integrity, humanity, and religion, which last he ought to pretend to more than ordinarily, because more men do judge by the eye than by the touch ; for everybody sees, but few understand ; every- body sees how you appear, but few know what in reality you are, and those few dare not oppose the opinion of the multitude, who have the majesty of their prince to defend them; and in the actions of all men, especially princes, where no man has power to judge, every one looks to the end. Let a prince, therefore, do what he can to preserve his life and continue his supremacy, the means which he uses shall be thought honorable, and be commended by every- body; because the people are always taken with the appear- ance and event of things, and the greatest part of the world consists of the people; those few who are wise taking place when the multitude has nothing else to rely upon. There is a prince at this time in being (but his name I shall conceal) who has nothing in his mouth but fidelity and peace; and yet had he exercised either the one or the other, they had robbed him before this of both his power and reputation. NICOLO MACHIAVEUJ. 87 Chapter XXVI. An Exhortation to Deliver Italy from the Barbarians. Having weighed, therefore, all that is said before, and considered seriously with myself whether in this juncture of affairs in Italy the times were disposed for the advancement of a new prince, and whether there was competent matter that could give occasion to a virtuous and wise person to in- troduce such a form as would bring reputation to him and benefit to all his subjects, it seems to me that at this present so many things concur to the exaltation of a new prince that I do not know any time that has been more proper than this; and if, as I said before, for the manifestation of the courage of Moses it was necessary that the Israelites should be cap- tives in Egypt; for discovery of the magnimimity of Cyrus, that the Persians should be oppressed by the Medes; and for the illustration of the excellence of Theseus that the Athen- ians should be banished and dispersed; so to evince and dem- onstrate the courage of an Italian spirit it was necessary that Italy should be reduced to its present condition; that it should be in greater bondage than the Jews, in greater servitude than the Persians, and in greater dispersion than the Athenians ; without head, without order, harassed, spoiled, overcome, overrun, and overflown with all kinds of calamity ; and though formerly some sparks of virtue have appeared in some persons that might give it hopes that God had or- dained them for its redemption, yet it was found afterwards that in the very height and career of their exploits they were checked and forsaken by fortune, and poor Italy left half dead, expecting who would be her Samaritan to bind up her wounds, put an end to the sackings and devastations in Lombardy, the taxes and expilations in the kingdom of Naples and Tuscany, and cure her sores which length of time had festered and imposthumated. It is manifest how she prays to God daily to send some person who may redeem her from the cruelty and insolence of the barbarians. It is manifest how prone and ready she is to follow the banner that any man will take up ; nor is it at present to be dis- 88 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. cernecb where she can repose her hopes with more proba- bility than in your illustrious family,* which by its own courage and interest and the favor of God and the Church (of which it is now chief), may be induced to make itself head in her redemption ; which will be no hard matter to be effected if you lay before you the lives and actions of the persons above named ; who though they were rare and wonderful were yet but men, and not accommodated with so fair circumstances as you. Their enterprise was not more just nor easy, nor God Almighty more their friend than yours. You have justice on your side ; for that war is just which is necessary, and it is piety to fight where no hope is left in anything else. The people are universally disposed, and where the disposition is so great the opposition can be but small, especially you taking your rules from those per- sons which I have proposed to you for a model. Besides, many things that they did were supernatural, and by God's immediate conduct the sea opened, a cloud directed, a rock afforded water, it rained manna ; all these things are recompensed in your grandeur, and the rest re- mains to be executed by you. God will not do everything immediately, because He will not deprive us of our free will and the honour that devolves upon us. Nor is it any wonder if none of the aforenamed Italians have been able to do that which may be hoped for from your illustrious family ; and if in so many revolutions in Italy, and so long continuation of war, their military virtue seems spent and extinguished, the reason is, their old discipline was not good, and nobody was able to direct a better. Nothing makes so much to the honour of a new prince as new laws and new orders invented by him, which, if they be well founded, and carry anything of grandeur along with them, do render him venerable and wonderful ; and Italy is sus- ceptible enough of any new form. Their courage is great enough in the soldier if it be not wanting in the officer ; witness the duels and combats, in which the Italians have * "The Prince " was addressed to Lorenzo, son of Piero de' Medici. NICOLO MACHIAVELU. 89 generally the better by their force and dexterity and strata- gem ; but come to their battles, and they have often the worse, and all from the inexperience of their commanders ; for those who pretend to have skill will never obey, and every one thinks he has skill, there having been nobody to this very day raised by his virtue and fortune to that height of reputation as to prevail with others to obey him. Hence it came that, in so long time, in the many wars during the last twenty years, whenever an army consisted wholly of Italians it was certain to be beaten ; and this may be testi- fied by Tarus, Alexandria, Capua, Genoa, Vaila, Bologna, and Mestri. If therefore, your illustrious family be inclined to follow the examples of those excellent persons who re- deemed their countries, it is necessary, as a true funda- mental of all great enterprises, to provide yourselves with forces of your own subjects, for you cannot have more faith- ful nor better soldiers than they. And though all of them be good, yet altogether they will be much better when they find themselves not only commanded, but preferred and caressed by a prince of their own. It is necessary, there- fore, to be furnished with these forces before you can be able with Italian virtue to vindicate your country from the oppression of strangers. And though the Swiss and Spanish infantry be counted terrible, they have both of them their defects ; and a third sort may be composed that may not only encounter but be confident to beat them ; for the Spanish foot cannot deal with horse, and the Swiss are not invincible when they meet with foot as obstinate as them- selves. It has been seen by experience, and would be so again, the Spaniards cannot sustain the fury of the French cavalry, and the Swiss have been overthrown by the infantry of Spain. And though of this last we have seen no perfect experiment, yet we had a competent essay at the battle of Ravenna, where the Spanish foot being engaged with the German battalions (which observe the same order and dis- cipline as the Swiss), the Spaniards, by the agility of their bodies and the protection of their bucklers, broke in under their pikes and killed them securely, while the poor Ger- 90 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. mans were incapable to defend themselves ; and had not the Spaniards been charged by the horse, the German foot had been certainly cut off. It is possible, therefore, the defect of both those foot being known, to institute a third which may buckle with the horse and be in no fear of their foot ; which will be effected not by the variation of their arms, but by changing their discipline. And these are some 01 those things which, being newly reformed, give great grandeur and reputation to any new prince. This oppor- tunity, therefore, is by no means to be slipped, that Italy, after so long expectation, may see some hopes of deliver- ance. Nor can it be expressed with what joy, with what impatience of revenge, with what fidelity, with what com- passion, with what tears such a champion would be received into all the provinces that have suffered by those barbarous inundations. What gates would be shut against him? What people would deny him obedience? What malice would oppose him ? What true Italian would refuse to fol- low him ? There is not anybody but abhors and nauseates this barbarous domination. L,et } r our illustrious family, then, address itself to the work with as much courage and confidence as just enterprises are undertaken ; that under their ensigns our country may be recovered, and under their conduct Petrarch's prophecy may be fulfilled, who promised that — Virtu contra furore Prenderd Varme, e fid 1 1 combatier corto : Che Vantico valore NegV Italici cor non - and torture us with fear in the face of a hopeless future, which seems the more depressing when we contrast it with condi- tions that have gone before ? Then follow the words dies aevi, the day of life ; how slight must that be reckoned, if it is so fleet- ing, and the best it contains is destroyed at its beginning, in its bloom, so to speak ! What joy can there be in life, when those who rejoice in it are called, not only mortals, but also miserable ? Why should they not be so called ? Are not their goods and their very lives as fleeting as the day itself ! They are indeed made subject to the law of death. Finally come the words prima fugit. We have not come to know the day sufficiently well through use of it. Therefore, all that follows, no matter how good in itself, seems cruel in remembrance of that which is lost. The day van- ishes, is not released or sent away. How deceptive and how un- 1 It is a virtue to renounce the things that please us. * The happiest day of life most quickly escapes unhappy mortals. RUDOLPH AGRICOLA. 21 certain is fortune ! How little is it in our power ! How little does it depend upon our approbation ! If, then, you will pursue such a subject through all the points of dialectic — that is to say, of course, so far as it responds to your spiritual disposition — you will find yourself in possession of abun- dant material for presentation, and also for your inventive facul- ties to work upon. The method, however, I cannot perfectly present in the narrow compass of a letter. I have treated this question more at length in the three books Dc invention? dialeclica. Whoever carries out these instructions properly and carefully, especially when the theoretical development of dialectic is added thereto, will obtain in a high degree the ability, which will be alwa)'s at his command, of discoursing over almost any theme that may be presented. It must be assumed, of course, that the theme concerns that department of knowledge with which he is acquainted. It is in this manner, it seems to me, that the old masters, whom the Greeks called Sophists, that is, wise men, have developed their powers, and attained to so great readiness and ability in discourse, that they, as is seen in the case of Plato and of Aristotle, caused any theme whatsoever to be advanced, and then discoursed upon it as extensively as was desired. Thus Gorgias of L,eontini, the originator of so bold an under- taking, thus Prodicus of Ceos, thus Protagoras of Abdera and Hippias of Elis have first educated themselves and then taught others. Moreover, that which I have treated of in the second in- stance will afford great capacity for judgment in the appropriation of knowledge, and lead to new demonstrations, to new conclusions, or at least to a new arrangement of those already on hand. When to this a suitable style is added, eloquence is attained and the way is opened to the attainment of oratorical distinction. Put enough of this! Demetrius of Phalerus, in hi- Tvefoj, 1 says that a too extensive letter is really no letter, but a book with a formula of salutation at its beginning. Whatever may be thought of this disturbs me not; for I have set myself the task of further- ing in ever}' possible way your studies, and in the event of my failure, to show at least that I have made the effort. The will may indeed be of little account, if measured by the result; but in the domain of friendship, where the will stands for the deed, it has so great a value that nothing greater can be asked or given. 1 Exposition. 22 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. And now to add a word concerning my personal affairs, let me tell you that on the second of May I came to Heidelberg. My lord, the bishop, received me kindly, and has shown me nothing but amiability and benevolence. Let me tell you of my folly, or, to speak more accurately, of my stupidity. I have resolved to learn Hebrew, as though I had not spent enough time and pains on the little Greek that I have acquired. I found a teacher, who a few years before accepted our faith. The Jews themselves gave him credit for an extensive acquaintance with their learning, and were accustomed to oppose him to our theologians, when they were challenged to disputations on the subject of religion. Out of kindness to me the bishop undertook to care for him at the court. I shall do the best I can, and hope to accomplish some- thing. Perhaps I shall arrive at this result, because I am confi- dent of doing so. Joseph Rink has informed me of your misfor- tune. It came to you from a source, as I well know, whence it was most difficult to endure. I am not certain whether I most lament your misfortune or such perfidiousness. At any rate I have sympathized deeply with you in your sorrow, and should have given my sympathy expression in an elegy — this form of verse being specially adapted for such complaint — had I been so quiet and collected that I might have brought myself to poetical com- position. I beg of you, send me something in the way of vocal music of your own composition; but something finished, that will earn you praise. We have singers here to whom I have often spoken of you. Their leader composes for nine and twelve voices. Of his compositions for three or four voices I have heard nothing that especially pleased me. But my impression is in no sense a proper judgment; very likely his compositions are too good for my limited comprehension. Farewell, and be assured of my friend- ship; give my regards to the distinguished and learned m agister, Ambrosius Dinter, our Nicholas Haga, the elegantly cultured magister, Jacob Crabbe, your neighbor, and especially to Joseph Rink, an amiable j'oung man, who is very devoted to you. The verses which I sent you I have carefully read through a sec- ond time. I found three or four errors in the poem to Mother Anna; the printer had transposed the letters. Therefore I send you this manuscript, in order that you may correct your copy by it. See to it, I beg of you, that this, together with the letter, is delivered to the regular canon of St. Martin's, Adam Jordan in JACOB WIMPIIEUNG. 23 Lowen. Again farewell ! Heidelberg, June 7, 1484. Send me exact information concerning your affairs through this messenger. JACOB WIMPHELING. Jacob Wimpheling (1450-1528) was born at Schlettstadt, in tbe Upper Rhine country. His education was acquired in the schools of his native town and at the universities of Freiburg, Erfurt and Heidelberg. Although for a considerable time connected with the university of Heidelberg in the capa- city of teacher, the most productive period of Wimpheling's life was spent at Strasburg, where his more important works were written. These works were mostly paedagogical. The Isidoneus, a guide for the German youth; the Adolescentia, of a similar character, and the Agatharchia, or book for the direction of princes, were all of them attempts to raise the standard oj education in Germany. The Germania, written in 1501, during Wimphel- ing's residence at Strasburg, was an appeal to that municipality to establish an advanced system of public schools. Incidentally, however, he appealed to the sentiment of German patriotism, defending the thesis that Alsace had ever been a German land ; a contention which was opposed by another famous German humanist, Thomas Murner (1475-1537). Out of this differ- ence of opinion arose one of the most celebrated literary controversies of the time. Wimpheling's interest in educational matters won for him the distin- guished title of the "Schoolmaster of Germany." His writings obtained a wide circulation and did much to determine the character of German educa- tion for two centuries. Apart from this special work, Wimpheling was a typical humanist of the earlier type, selecting his material with reference to its value for purposes of Christian culture, and possessing all the homely and substantial virtues of his race. He valued the new learning chiefly for its adaptability to the purposes of practical life, and the methods he advocated looked to the production of able and conscientious men rather than accom- plished scholars. KXTRACTS FROM THE IsidoncitS. Chapter 25 : The Study of Creek. In the matter of Greek I am not competent to render judgment or give an estimate, since in the best years of my youth I had no teacher in this branch. If I wished to follow the example of Marcus Cato, and learn it in my mature years, there would be no lack of excellent teachers in Germany. Thus Rudolph Agricola has learned and taught Greek. Johannes Camerarius Dalberg, Bishop of Worms, devotes himself with ardor to the study of Greek — he who is the ornament of Germany, the glory of his gen- Sammlung der bedeutendsteu padagogischen Schriften. Band 13. Pader- born, 1S92. 24 SOURCE- BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. eration, the especial pride of Duke Philip of Bavaria, the crown of bishops — he whom, on account of his astonishing erudition, I re- gard as born for something even more distinguished. With no slight ardor does Johannes Trithemius, Sponheim's pious abbot, devote himself to the study of Greek. Among those who at the present time are competent to teach Greek is also Johannes Cap- nion, or as he is commonly called, Reuchlin of Pforzheim, and the poet laureate, Conrad Celtes. It is, moreover, well known that Augustine in his second book of Christian Doctrine advances the opinion that for those who speak Latin a knowledge of Greek is necessary for the understanding of Holy Writ. It is also known that teachers out of their ignorance of this tongue have commu- nicated much of error to their pupils. For example, they were of the belief that the name of Christ, which was written by our an- cestors, who for the most part knew Greek, with three Greek letters, XPC, had been incorrectly indicated with three Latin let- ters, although it is beyond doubt that the first of these three let- ters indicated to the Greeks not " x," but " ch;" that the second stood not for "p" but for "r," while by the third not "c," but " s " was meant. Chapter 26 : The Aim of Grammatical Instruction. Contemplate, O teachers, the aim of grammatical instruction ! Bear in mind that this instruction is to enable the pupil to speak Latin correctly and agreeably on all occasions, to understand it perfectly and to be able to apply it to branches of knowledge that promise the greater rewards. This is the object, this the aim, this the sum and substance of your instruction. But when it is pos- sible for any one to reach this goal with small pains and slight ex- ertion, is he not foolish to wander here and there through by-ways and all sorts of turns and twistings at the expense of greater effort ? But many remain obstinate in their errors and close their ears even to the plain truth. Although a straight path is offered to them for the stud}' of grammar, yet the}' pursue a crooked way, which brings them from the direct route; they abandon the level road, in order to forge ahead over a way full of inequalities ; they give up the short road, in order to deceive their uninstructed youth with meaningless and windy discourses, together with great loss of time and interruption of mental development ; to weaken and unnerve them. They remain themselves, together with their JACOB WIMPHEUNG. 25 pupils, blind and lame, for their ignorance in respect to the ele- ments of grammatical instruction permits them to grope about in darkness. He will never attain to the object of grammar, who during his entire youth has busied himself with his Alexander,' with the meaning of words, with figures and examples, all of which is superfluous, and at the end can neither thoroughly grasp nor understand the smallest preface of Jerome, nor any homily of the fathers, nor anything whatsoever that is agreeably written with all the grammar which he is supposed to have learned. Therefore it is for you, who are placed at the head of the public schools, to conduct your pupils by the nearest possible way to an understanding and a knowledge of the Latin tongue. Leave un- touched the old established explanations, which are full of ab- surdities, and above all such as are calculated to cause one to forget rather than to learn, in which there is nothing either graceful or dignified, and which, moreover, are useless either for the acquisition or the comprehension of Latin. The Latin language I regard as the noblest of tongues; it can be learned and understood by the people of every nation; it makes the noble born still nobler; one who knows it not is thereby ren- dered unworthy of the Roman imperial crown; in it have count- less things been written, which can scarcely be translated into the German or any popular speech; he who despises it shows himself unworthy of it; he who refuses to become a Latinist, re- mains forever a wild beast and a two-legged donkey. Our princes and their trusted courtiers and flatterers — not to call them "worshippers," with Augustine — as despisers of the Latin language and literature, might be called barbarians by foreign- ers; and such in truth they are. But you, admirable youths, love this tongue; no other language is nobler, more graceful and more expressive; no other language surpasses it in abundance and splendor of high and enlightened thought. extracts from Tin-: Adolescentia. Chapter I. The Choice of Books. If I did not fear to be accused by others of presumption, I should advise teachers to observe, in the introduction of the 'The Doclri?ialc pucrorum of Alexander de Villa Dei, written 1209 (1199), a famous Latin grammar, -which came into extensive use in the Middle Ages. With singular perversity the text was tortured into hexameter verse. 26 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. grammar, the orderly .succession and the principles which I have presented in my " fszdoneus." I permit myself to hope that immediately after the instruction in the alphabet they will put into your hands the Donat, 1 to which I have nothing to add, and from which I have little to take away. Then will they make you acquainted with the varieties and declensions of nouns and verbs, with the easier forms of sentences and terminations according to Sulpicius, 2 or some other good exercise book for boys. Then they will place before you Basil the Great 3 and the letter of iEueas Silvius to King Ladislaus.* After these have been com- pleted, this book of mine may, I think, without detriment, be placed in your hands, by means of which you may become ac- quainted with Cicero, Sallust, Seneca, Tranquillus and Valerius Maximus. In this manner you will be able more easily to attain to an understanding of the remaining historical works; among others to an understanding of Christian history, of the noble deeds of the Germans, especially in the account of Otto of Frei- singen, in whom your noble father, who possesses a carefully re- vised and perfect edition of this work, takes great delight. When you will read something of a more sprightly character, to cheer you up or for amusement, turn to Lucian. Whenever any sad mischance has shaken you, take your flight to Francesco Petrarca, who for all the turns of fortune, be they good or ill, has ever a perfect remedy and in a tasteful form, as w T ell against arro- gance and presumption as against discouragement and sadness. If, however, you love brevity, take up the equally interesting and instructive book of Baptista Mantuanus, De patientia. If you take pleasure in learning of the tasks and duties of an upright prince or count, or if for the relief and unburdening of your con- science you will give to God an account of the days of 5'our life, then you may peruse my Agatharchia. 1 Or Do7iatus ; the ars grammatica of Aelius Donatus (IV century A. D.). This book, in two forms, the ars minor and the ars major, came into general use as an elementary Latin grammar after the middle of the twelfth century. * Johannes Sulpicius Verulanus (Giovanni Sulpicio of Veroli), a humanist of the XV. century; taught at Rome, and composed works upon grammar. "St. Basil (329-379), Archbishop of Csesarea in Cappadocia. * Vide Source-Book of the Italian Renaissance, pp. 55-63. JACOB WIMPHELING. 27 Chapter III. Boys of ?wbie birth mote than others should be instructed in the humanities. If it is the duty of all parents to afford a good education to their children, it is of especial importance that those boys who later in life are to occupy prominent positions, and whose words and deeds may not lie in obscurity, should be instructed in the higher branches of learning, so that they may be worthy of their fortune, their dignity and their prominence. It is a reasonable condition, that those who demand for themselves the highest should also produce the highest. There is no safer nor more enduring basis for dominion than that those who rule should be considered most worthy of their lordship. Chapter IV. Learning and virtue are more to be esteemed than all else. Every one should strive for learning and virtue, which alone confer nobility. These are to be striven for above all other things to which the human mind directs itself. For money, honor and pleasure are changing and transitory. The possession and fruits of virtue on the contrary are unassailable and permanent, and make their possessor immortal and happy. The youth, there- fore, especially when he comes of distinguished parents, should be reminded with especial emphasis, that he may value the soul's advantage and not the gifts of fortune and physical accomplish- ments. Each day he should exert himself, in order that he may not become an awkward, lazy, stupid, foppish, wanton fellow, as in our day most of the noble-born are, but that he shall be in- telligent and educated; that he may be well instructed from his youth and not ignorant of the humanities; that he shall apply himself to the reading of Holy Writ; that he may be well-bred, just, gentle and pious; that he may be no friend of wastlings and buffoons, or of such as find their joy in biting calumny, or of such as in any way outrage good breeding; in order that he may be rather a friend of clever and cultured men. Chapter V. A boy's disposition has to be determined at the start. In the first place, each one has to give proof of his talents and capacity. Since on account of their age this cannot be adequately determined in the case of boys, it will be necessary for their parents or the teachers to whom the youths have been entrusted, to observe carefully the general direction of their mind, and talents, according to their natural dispositions. Their studies should then 28 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. be directed into this same direction, and with these studies they should occupy themselves exclusively. Chapter VII. The sons of the great shall not apply themselves exclusively to the chase. What special signification has the art of the chase — if indeed this employment deserves to be called an art — for a king or for a noble prince, that for it he despises and neglects all other skilled labors and exercises of the body ? Is it not true that an ordinary man of base extraction, devoid of all distinction, of all cleverness and aptitude, may be quite the equal of a prince in the exercise of the chase? The worst gallows-bird, empty of all ability, of all cleverness, of all fear of the Lord, is qualified to apply himself to this "delight." He too may carry the horn which hangs about his neck; he too may jump about like mad, and race his horse here and there through field and forest, and fill the air with cries; he too in peril of life and health may follow the game and shoot it with bow or gun or run it down with hunting-spear. For a prince, however, that would be a more laudable art, in which a man of common birth and lew intelligence could not equal him. Therefore he shall apply himself to use with ease the noblest of tongues in reading and in speaking and particularly in oral intercourse with foreigners; he shall consider it furthermore his duty to learn the customs of the ancients and the manners of foreign lands ; he shall make himself acquainted with historical statements and relations, such as serve for agreeable and witty entertainment or for elevating instruction; then too, the holy coun cils, which attend to the interests of the individual and of the state, as well as to the public and civic welfare, should not be un- familiar to him; in the range of his knowledge he should include the arts of peace and war, as well as the proper training of chil- dren, and law and equity, which may serve for the defence of just- ice and the maintenance of right. Then will he rise above his subjects; then will he be distinguished from them in his actions; then will he draw upon himself beyond a doubt the love and ven- eration of his people. Chapter VIII. The indications of good natural gifts. One indication of ability and of a spirit worth)- of a free man is shown in the striving after praise and the desire for honor. JACOB WIMPHEUNG. 29 Hence arises the contest for honor and distinction. It is another token, when great things are dared for praise and honor. A third token betrays itself in the readiness for good deeds, in the disinclination for idleness and in the desire always to accomplish something of importance. A fourth is shown in a dread of threats and blows, and a still greater dread of dishonor and shame. Hence arises that feeling of modesty and awe, which is of the highest value at this time of life. It is also a good indication when boys blush on being reproved, and when they mend their ways after having been chastised. A fifth sign is when they love their teachers and bear neither dislike nor hatred against them or their discipline. A sixth sign is this: that children listen will- ingly to their parents and are not deaf to their well-meant admo- nitions; for youth is inclined to sin, and when it is not held in bounds by the example and counsel of older people, it often seeks in haste the road to destruction. Chapter XL VI. The fifteenth rule forbids carousing. The youth shall avoid most carefully immoderate use of wine and intoxication. Immoderate use of wine injures the health, and seriously limits the use of reason; it arouses strife and war and excites evil desires. For this reason the Lacedaemonians permitted drunken slaves to come before them at their meals, not that they might enjoy their disgusting conversation or their filthy actions — for it is only a worthless man who takes pleasure in the faults or in the vices of others — but that the}' might place before their young sons a living example of the shamefulness of intoxi- cation. Was there ever an evil greater than this infamy ? If then the disfigurement of the body is so disgusting, how great is to be regarded the deformity and repulsiveness of the soul disfigured with this vice? Whoever possesses the sense of shame that deters him from that so-called pleasure of eating and drinking, which man has in common with swine and donkeys, be may con- sider himself fortunate. Socrates indeed said that many men lived in order to eat and drink; he, however, ate and drank in order to live. A youth, therefore, who desires to be accounted wise, must never smell of wine; he flees drunkenness as he would poison; he follows not the seductions of the palate, for a full stomach does not sharpen the senses. A pleasure-seeking and immoderate 30 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. youth bequeaths to age an exhausted body. The youth must know that human nature is content with little, so far as needs are concerned; in respect to pleasure, however, nothing is able to satisfy it. He should know, finally, that food, taken in modera- tion, is conducive to health; but that the contrary is the case when taken in excess. Thus saith John Chrysostom: "Nothing is so pleasing as well-prepared and well-cooked food; nothing more conducive to health; nothing so effectually sharpens the wits; nothing drives away an indisposition so quickly as a mod- erate refreshment. An excess, however, produces sickness and disorders, and calls forth discord. The effects of hunger are equally produced, and even to a greater degree and with more disastrous consequences by immoderate indulgence; for hunger carries a man off in a few days, and delivers him from the pains of this life. Immoderation in food and drink destroys the human body and causes it to wither and saps its strength through illness, and then finally takes it hence in painful death." Jerome held this view, and appealed to the physician Hippocrates and his ex- positor, Galen. Let the German youth accustom himself, therefore, to be mod- erate and careful with his food and drink, so that the opinion of foreigners may not be justly applied to him, when they say, with injustice, and without ever giving thought to their own short- comings, that all Germans are given to intoxication and drunken- ness. Young men may believe me when I say that I have known many a young man who has wasted his patrimony in debauchery and riotous living, and finally has seen himself compelled in mis- ery either to beg his bread in shame and degradation or to end his life in the poorhouse. Chapter XL VII. The sixteenth rule forbids curling the hair. The young man shall turn his thoughts to neatness, but not to such a degree that it may be too evident or seem labored; he shall avoid negligence, which betrays a rustic mind and lack of culture. In the same way he shall look to his attire, and in this matter, as in most others, the golden mean is to be preferred. If in Holy Writ long hair is forbidden to man and youth, as being conducive to dishonor, how much heavier an offence is it then, not only to roll up and curl the hair, which naturally grows smooth and straight and is adorned with pleasing colors, but also to moisten JACOB WIMPHELING. 3 1 and dye it with artificial color. A well-mannered and modest youth will hold himself aloof frcm such deceit and feminine prac- tices; for nothing was so certain a sign of the worst of all vices to the ancients as this w r icked and shameiul custom of curling the hair. Thus Plautus saj's of a certain one: ' ' Thou voluptuary with the curly hair!" Curling the hair makes a woman of a man ; it softens the youth; it produces an abundance of vermin; it strives in vain for that which nature has forbidden ; it is a sign of arro- gance and bluster; it betrays epicureanism and sensuality; it of- fends God the Lord and frightens away the guardian angel ; it makes the head heavy and affects the brain ; it weakens the mem- ory and deforms the countenance; it gives eld age a horrid, mangy look; it is evidence of great simpleness. Is there anything more absurd than to hold the hair in estimation above the head ; than to care more for the color of the hair than for sprightliness of mind, as the brave and honest poet Diether has said with playful grace to your distinguished father. Finally, crimping the hair shuts one out from the kingdom of Heaven; for how will God, the best and highest One of all, deem those worthy of the kingdom of the blest who, dissatisfied with the form, with the countenance, with the hair which he has given them, are not ashamed to wear false hair, to slight and despise that divine gift, and to seek strange gifts. On the last day the Judge will be able to confront those who crimp and curl their hair with these words : "I have not created this man; I have not given him this countenance; this is not the hair which I gave him at birth." Augustine bears us witness with these words: " God is against the arrogant and those that curl their hair." Extracts from THE Agatharchia . Chapter XIV. The Support and Direction of High Schools. It should be the care and effort of a prince, that scientific studies should flourish in his principality and that main wise and energetic men should distinguish themselves therein. In this matter you will do well to imitate your father. It was his earnest desire, that the high school at Heidelberg should advance in all excellent sciences, and particularly in the humanistic studies, which before all are indispensable to young men, and of value in the still more important exercise of the sacred law; for it is not sufficient that this or the other branch of learning 32 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. should enjoy especial prosperity and consideration at the high school. It is necessary that suitable arrangements should be made for each branch of learning, through the whole range of the higher arts and sciences. For in this wise such institutions of learning show themselves worthy of the name of ' ' University. ' ' ' Thus your father acted well and advisedly, when he founded a college for jurisprudence. For it is better that teachers and pupils should dwell together, than that the latter should be separated and scattered hither and thither in nooks and corners without supervision. Chapter XV. The Desirability of having suitable Pastors and Teachers. A prince shall nominate or appoint for his pastors and for the direction of his scholars, able, learned and cultured men, who are qualified to give instruction. And although in other cases princes are accustomed to state their desires rather violently — as some one has said : " When princes ask, it is a specially emphatic form of command," or "The mighty put their requests with a drawn sword " — yet in these two instances, that is to say, in the matter of the cure of souls and the education of children, the prince shall not advance any one he chooses to an academic stand- ard ; he shall not personally advance the claims of his favorite without due consideration ; he shall not confide to an inexperi- enced man a responsible position as pastor, simply because his father understood his business or his service as cook, huntsman, fowler or zither-player, to the injury of the man's own soul and to the detriment of the prince himself. A prince will have to give an account of all these things. It would be more to the pur- pose to bestow offices of this sort upon men of distinction, mature and blameless men, who have acquired a fund of human experi- ence, who are able to awaken confidence, who are thoughtful of the welfare of their native land, who love God and the salvation of souls more than all other things, who allow themselves to be directed by nothing, neither by the arrangements of this or that one, nor by the demands of the faculty or the bursary, but simply and exclusively look to the morality, the intellectual advance- ment, the eloquence and the progress of those who are entrusted to their care. It is also not to be permitted that at a high school 1 Academia Universitatum. JACOB WIMPHEUNG. 33 one faculty should subordinate, encroach upon or oppress another. The prosperity of the high school and due respect for the founder demand rather, that the faculty which was first established should not give way; reason suggests that equilibrium should be preserved; equal labor and equal remuneration, and in a similar way, equal consideration on the part of those whose privilege it is to bestow rewards and favors. Especially are those self- seeking souls to be kept at a distance who do not hesitate, for their own advantage and with unseemly pertinacity in their own behalf, to undermine the whole academic structure, to violate every approved regulation, to destroy the sacred harmony and break down a just distribution of stipends. Chapter XVII. The Training of Princely Children. A prince should see to it, that his children are well educated and well trained, and that from their earliest years they are directed toward humanistic studies. They should be able also to use the Latin language in a satisfactory manner. This will redound to their honor in the assemblies of princes, in their intercourse with ecclesiastical dignitaries, in the reception of candinals or in their intercourse with foreigners. Julius and Augustus, Marcus Cato, King Robert of Sicily, Constantine, Charles the Great and other princes and their sons have neither impaired the honor of their names in any way through such study, nor have they discovered therein any diminution of their martial glory. What the characteristics of a good teacher are, I have already indicated in my Isidoneus. As to how they should bring up boys, they may peruse the letter of Aeneas Silvius to Ladislas. 1 In the training of older pupils they should govern themselves by Holy Writ and the writings of the heathen. They may find inspiration also in the treatise which John Gerson addressed to the confessor of Charles VII. King of France; above all they should not neglect the Summa of John Gallensis. 3 Chapter XXII. Precautions against the Artificial Raising of Prices. A prince should take care that well-filled granaries are at hand for the benefit of his people, so that an occasional famine may be 1 Cf. Source-Book of the Italian Renaissance, p. 55, et scq. 'English Franciscan monk. Taught at University of Paris in 1279. His Summa Collationum was a book of aphorisms. 3 34 SOURCK-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. mitigated by means of the surplus of foregoing years. He shall also take precautions, so that when, to punish us for our sins, God in his wisdom limits the increase of fruits or sends destruct- ive storms upon us, prices shall not rise out of reach through the insatiable avarice of priests or citizens. He shall see that just prices are made, so that the scarcity may be more endurable for the poor; for there are such as collect and heap together the har- vests of several years, and hold them back purposely, in order that they may sell these products at advanced prices. People of this kind sometimes bring about an advance in prices merely by their avarice. If your father Philip had not broken this up and forbidden, in years past, that the price of a bushel of wheat should exceed 16 solidi, 1 the price of the same would have risen to a pound denarii or nearly to two pounds and this merely through the wan- toness of avaricious people, who cared not whether poor people suffered hunger or even died of hunger, if they themselves could get rich. I speak from experience. Chapter XXIII. To Prevent the Exportation of Gold and Silver. A prince shall take precautions, in so far as it is possible with- out offense toward God, that neither gold nor silver shall be taken out of his territory into foreign lands, unless a complete equivalent therefor is returned. I do not know why it is that other people have contracted the habit of draining the German nation dry, while no gain comes to us from foreign lands. The Roman an- nates, the spices and fabrics of Venice, the Italian rectorates, the French jugglers and players, the regular orders, their hospitals and settlements carry enormous sums out of our lands. Our peo- ple, however, have only one order founded for the Germans, and this has obtained in all France not one cloister, nor a single set- tlement, nor any kind of income, whatsoever. The French, on the contrary, have in our midst the Antonines, 2 the Valentinians, the Benedictines and man)' others; not to speak of the Cistercians and Praemoustratensians. So great is either the simplicity or the generosity of the Germans. 1 According to the Carolingian coinage regulations the pound silver was divided into 20 solidi or into 240 denarii. Established 1095. Under Boniface VIII, changed to a congregation of Augustinians; 1774 united with the order of Malta; dissolved in the revolu- tionary period. JOHANN RKUCHLIN. 35 J OH ANN REUCHLIN. Johann Reuchlin (1455-1522) is, next to Desiilerius Krasmus, the most important character in the German Renaissance. A student at many uni- versities in Germany, France and Italy, Reuchlin hecame licentiate in law at Poitiers (1481), and returning to Wiirtemberg, was appointed to a judicial position under the government of that state. His professional duties left much time for study, and he hecame so proficient iu the languages of an- tiquity, that he was called the " three-tongued wonder of Germany." The Hebrew text-books which he produced first gave an opportunity in Germany for the study of that language and literature. Various diplomatic missions led Reuchlin again to Italy, where he came in contact with Pico della Mirandola, whose influence gave a mystical turn to Reuchlin's philosophical writings a tendency which had little effect upon his contemporaries or upon posterity. As a teacher, however, as a repre- sentative of the widest culture of his time, and as a source of inspiration toward intellectual effort, Reuchlin exercised great influence upon the scholars of his time. As a humanist, he felt little sympathy with Luther's schismatic attitude, but unwittingly he furnished the Protestant move- ment with one of its ablest leaders, in the person of his nephew, Melauch- thon, for whom he secured the chair of Greek at the university of Wit- tenberg. Reuchlin's eventual fame is largely due to the fact that he became, much against his will, the central point about which raged a bitter literary con- troversy, which occupied the attention of the world of letters in the decade just preceding Luther's appearance. 1 LETTER TO JOHANN AMMERBACH.' To the prudent, honorable and wise gentleman, nix dear sir and good friend ', Master Johann Ammerbach, citizen and publisher at Basel. My friendly and willing service is at all times at your disposal, dear master Hans, sir and frie;:d. I have received your letter, dated Basel, August 2d, and have also learned of the complaints you have made concerning the Jerome and my books' as well. I should be very glad if everything could happen in accordance with your wish and approbation, and where it does not so come- to pass, I am truly sorry; hut nevertheless the fault in both instances is not mine. I have done everything that my knowl- edge, ability and duty indicated. I send you the tertia pars epistolariun : I have attended to it carefully, so far as the Greek 1 See below, " Letters of Obscure Men." 'Johann Reuchlin's Briefwechsel, von L. Geiger. Litt. Vereiu, Stuttgart, 1875. *The Rudintenta hebraica. 36 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. and Hebrew are concerned. The Latin I have not disturbed, as indeed throughout the whole of Jerome. This you have not asked me to do, and you will find enough people who can do that. I send you likewise the commentaries on the Psalms. So far, however, as the Jeremiah is concerned, I have informed you more than once that to the best of my knowledge and belief, I can find no old copy of Jeremiah in any cloister. I have done much riding here and there for this purpose, and I should not undertake to correct it for you without a text. There is, how- ever, no real necessity for this, since master Bruno ' and yourself are able to supply the lack, so far as the Hebrew is concerned, and master Johann Cuno, the Dominican, can readily find a Greek text amongst the books of his cloister, wherefore there is no need of me. Likewise regarding the interpretaliones hebrai- corum fiomiftzim, no one would undertake this, because it is in- correct; in fact, it was not composed by St. Jerome, but the Greek church formerly possessed it, and so he translated it from the Greek; and it contains much that is erroneous, because in his exposition he has not followed his own judgment, but the common error, as he himself permits it to be seen in the Epistolcz ad Fabi- olam de 4.2 mansionibus, mansione nona. It would be possible to point out appropriately in an introduction that it is not his own. In the same way, so far as the two introductions are concerned, the one in Uterus hebraeas, the other in literas graecas, since you write that there will be need of them for those who wish to buy and read St. Jerome, I must inform you that I have not been neg- ligent of your interests in the matter, but have had master Thomas print the introductorium 1 of Aldus in Greek and Hebrew, and he has done it well. I have also incorporated with it the seven peni- tential psalms with my literal exposition and furthermore a S) r n- opsis of the Rudirjienta, and had master Thomas print the same, in order that your Jerome and your Rndime?ita which you purchased of me, should be of more value and succeed better; for of what use was it to make a vocabulary and grammar, when no one could obtain a Jewish book, whereby he might have use for a vocabulary. Master Hans Froben has already written me in your behalf, that you have complained loudly because many of the copies of the 1 Son of Atnmerbach. 1 Introductorium perbreve ad gramm. hebr. JOHANN REUCHLIN. 37 Rudimenta were wanting or had been injured, and that on this account you have held back the money loaned by me; it was my intention to arrange the matter with him at the last fair, but at that time he did not come to Frankfort. However, my dear mas- ter Hans, dear sir and friend, if any shortage has occurred in the case of these books, it is not my fault. For when you made the bargain with me, according to the terms of our written contract, made at Basel and signed with your own hand, you directed me, after having divided with master Thomas, to place 600 copies in my sister's house at Pforzheim, so that you might find them there. I did that, as certain reputable persons can testify who were there at the time, and I had a carpenter build some shelving out of tim- ber and boards in one of my sister's rooms, according to the ad- vice of those who understood such things. Then master Thomas counted me out 600 books and placed them there at your disposi- tion. He also (as his people say) sorted them out one by one, some weeks previously, in order to get the best copies. You ought at that time to have had them taken away by one of your own men, who would have understood better about arranging and handling them than my sister, who nevertheless out of friendly disposition and good will diligently supervised the task. They lay there, however, a long time perictdo emptoris, until I received word from you through master Hans, that you desired I should have the goodness to arrange with Thomas of Pfortzheim to pack the books lying in my sister's house and send them to Strasburg as quickly as possible, to a publisher named Johannes Kuobloeh, and that I should advance the charges for carriage from Pfortz- heim to Strasburg; that he would repay me, and would also make- good whatever the casks and packing cost. I gave evidence of my friendly disposition toward you, and wrote my sister, and also arranged with master Thomas, in ac- cordance with the above request addressed to me, and I also paid what was to be paid, as I have already written you. But a k w books, I do not know how many, which would not go into the casks, are still lying in my sister's house. Wherefore I have now- requested my sister by letter to have these books carried to Frank- fort, where they may reach your people; and in this matter I have- acted in every respect as if it had been my own affair. I have also requested master Thomas to act in your interest, and he that he will do with diligence what you desire, and will again 38 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. look through his books, and if he finds any superfluous leaves will send them to you; and this you are also to do for him. And this may be done easily, for each leaf has its number, and may be noted readily; and so I should ver3 r likely be informed by your people that there was no further shortage or defect, but for the fact that when they packed the books some iron nails were driven into the casks to hold the hoops fast, and these have gone through into the casks. The damage may have happened quite as well at Strasburg as at Pfortzheim, while they were taking the books out, when they may have caught the leaves on the nails and have torn them. It is not my fault, however; that must be evident to you. Therefore I maintain my point and will not recede from it, for there is nothing that might be reckoned my fault; and even if you had discovered a shortage of eighteen books, and that thirty books were defective or damaged, as master Hans writes, still it would not even then justify a deduction of eighteen florins. You also promised me through Conrad L,eontorius, whom you commissioned to bring your book to me, and who wrote me with his own hand, that if I would correct the corresponding passages in the Greek and Latin texts of St. Jerome, you would give me twenty florins. I have corrected a third more than the agreement called for, and have also placed Jeremiah last, for in your book the New Testament stands after the epistles of Jerome. Again, you instructed me to come to Basel, and the journey cost me for myself and my servant and horse more than ten florins in money. In addition to this I loaned you there five florins and some shillings; then you promised at Basel to give me a Spanish bed-cover and several books, such as the works of Augustine, Ambrose, etc. I make no mention of the carpenter's food and drink and the porters who helped to carry the books to and fro and pack them, and the additional sum which I have spent in rid- ing to the cloisters, Bebenhausen, Miihlbronn, Hirshau, Dencken- dorff and Lorch, at your request. All that would have been suffi- cient security, without the loan of money. Indeed I would not take thirty florins and do for any one else the work I did for you during the fourteen days I was at your place, as a certain one who was at your house, master Adam by name, is said to have re- marked jocosely at Frankfort, in speaking of the matter: " What I have done is nothing, but there is one with you now, the latchets of whose shoes I am not worthy to unloose." But I am willing SEBASTIAN BRANT. 39 to let that pass. I have done the best I could; let others do their part. Although you write that you are willing to lose a third upon the books you have bought, there are many people who do not credit it. Master Thomas is dissatisfied to this day, because I gave you my books, when he had sold all of his; for I have suf- fered a considerable loss in the transaction and merely because I would not wait for him; therefore you must simply wait until the book makes money. And that this will come to pass I have no doubt, for if I live the Hebrew tongue must go ahead, with God's help; and if I die, I have at least made a beginning that will not easily be set aside. I am indeed willing to suffer loss for the com- mon good, dear master Hans, sir and good friend. I am not will- ing to forfeit your friendship for the sake of money. If I have de- served any thanks at your hands, let it go to my account; if I have deserved no thanks from you, then may God reward me, and may he ever protect you and your wife and your children from misfor- tune. Given the Tuesday after the festival of St. Augustine, in the year 15 12. 1 Doctor Johann Rkuchun. SEBASTIAN BRANT. Sebastian Brant (1458-1521) was born at Strasburg, studied at the univer- sity of Basel, became doctor of civil and canon Jpw, and taught at Basel until 1501, when he returned to his native town. There he held several municipal offices and in 1521 was given charge of an embassy to Ghent by the emperor, Charles V. Brant's Narrenschiff, or Ship of Fools (Basel, 1494) was one of the most popular books of the sixteenth century. The work passed through numer- ous editions and was translated into many modern languages. Alexander Barclay's Ship of Fooles (1509) is based upon Brant's work, but is so ex- panded and diluted that the vigor of the original is lost. The Narrenschiff has no purpose, other than that of a satirical presentation of the weaknesses and foibles of society. Along with other classes of society it handles some- what roughly the shortcomings of the clergy, and in this wise furnished material for the opponents of the church. Brant, however, was thoroughly orthodox, and wrote without polemical motive and without hostility to the religious institutions of his times. 'Aug. 31, 1512, at Stuttgart. 40 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. from The Narrenschiff} The foremost rank they've given me , Since I have many useless books, Which I neither read nor understand, (i) Of Useless Books. That I sit in this ship foremost A special meaning has in truth, And is not done without a cause. For I rely upon my books, Of which I have a great supply, But of their contents know no word, And hold them yet in such respect, That I will keep them from the flies. When people speak of knowledge, I say I have a lot of it at home; And am content with this alone, To see a lot of books about. King Ptolemy, he so contrived, That he had all books in the world, And held them for a treasure great. Still he had not the law of truth, Nor knew well how to use his books. So I have many books as well, And very few of them peruse. Why should I break my head on them, And bother myself with lore at all ? Who studies much becomes a guy. Myself, I'd rather be a man, And pay people to learn for me. Although I have a clownish mind, Yet when I am with learned folk, I know how to say ' ' ita ' ' for yes. Of German orders I am proud, For little L,atin do I know. I know that vinum stands for wine, Cuadus for gawk, stultus for fool, That " Domine Doctor " I am called. 1 Sebastian Brant's Narrenschiff, herausgegebeu von F. Zarnke. Leipzig, 1854. SEBASTIAN BRANT. 4! If my ears were not hid for me A miller's beast you'd quickly see. Who studies not the proper art, He surely wears the cap and bells, Is led forth on the string of fools. (27) Of Useless Studies. The students I cannot neglect; They too are taxed with cap and bells, And when they put their headgear on The point may somewhat backward hang. For when they ought to study hard, They'd rather go and fool about. To youth all learning's trivial. Just now they'd rather spend their time With what is vain and of no use. Tbe masters have the selfsame fault, In that true learning they despise And useless trash alone regard: As to whether it's day or night Or whether a man a donkey made, Or Socrates or Plato walked. Such learning now the schools employs. Are they not fools and stupid quite That go about by day and night, Among themselves and other folk? For better learning they've no care. Of them it is that Origen Speaks, when he says that they are like The frogs and grasshoppers that once Th' Egyptian land reduced to waste. And so the young men get them hence While we at Leipzig, Erfnrt, Wien, Heidelberg, Mainz and Bale hold out. But come back home although with shame, The money by that time is spent. And then we're glad to turn to trade, And then one learns to bring in wine, And soon turns out a serving-man. The student cap will get its bells. 42 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. MAXIMILIAN I. Maximilian I., emperor of Germany from 1493 to 1519, son of Frederick III., emperor and founder of the Hapsburg power in modern Europe, was born in 1459. * n T 477 Maximilian married Mary of Burgundy, heiress of Charles the Bold, thereby securing to his line the succession to the rich pos- sessions of the house of Burgundy. In addition to his patronage of literature and the arts, Maximilian found leisure for literary composition. Among the works attributed to him are the Theuerdank, a poetical allegory, setting forth the adventures of his court- ship, and the Weisskunig, a general record of his life, in prose. Just what part may be ascribed to Maximilian in the preparation of this work is uncer- tain. It is believed, however, that the emperor furnished the material, and that the literary form, of the Weisskunig at least, was the contribution of his secretary, Treitzsauerwein. from THE Weisskunig} How the Queen gave birth to a son. When now the time of the child's birth drew near, there was seen, but as yet not clearly, a comet in the sky, and it gave rise to many opinions. The old white king, likewise the exiled prince and all the folk of the entire kingdom cried aloud to God, with great devotion, asking that through his divine grace all the people might have occasion to rejoice in the queen's safe delivery. When any Christian man contemplates the mighty grace which Almighty Gcd conferred upon them both in this world, as for example, the highest spiritual and temporal honor of their coronation at Rome; and when he thinks as well of their piety and humility, that in their love of God they visited and sought to honor all holy places in the City of Rome and elsewhere; then he need not doubt that God heard this prayer out of his benign tenderness, for all good things come from God. And on this day and at the hour of the child's birth the selfsame comet appeared much larger than before and gave forth a clear and brilliant light. Although comets, for many reasons, usually make melancholy the heart of him who looks upon them, yet this comet with its glow was pleasing to look upon, so that each heart was moved at the sight of the comet, and thereby its special influence was a sign and revelation of the child's birth. In the midst of this 1 Der Weiss Kuuig ; eine Erzehlung von den Thaten Kaiser Maximilian I., von M. Treitzsaurwein auf dessen Angeben zusammengetragen, nebet den von H. Burgmair dazu verfertigteu Holzschnitten. Wien, 1775. MAXIMILIAN I. 43 appearance of the comet, the queen, through the divine grace granted and bestowed upon her, in the city called the Neustadt, bore her child with gentle pains, and was in her delivery greatly rejoiced, because the child was a beautiful son. Then out of joy they began to ring the bells and throughout the whole kingdom were lighted countless fires of rejoicing. How great was the joy of the old white king and all the people of his kingdom, over this happy birth. Now when this child was born, the comet ceased at once with its glow, whereb}' it is to be recognized that the same comet was a token of the child's future rule and of his wondrous deeds. And the exiled prince recognized that by this comet his counsel was confirmed through the influence of heaven, and he also requested that he might raise the child from the baptismal font, to which office he was called by the old white king, since the prince himself was born of kingly race. One thing will I make known: that when this child came to his years and to his rule, he was most victorious and most warlike, and to look upon his countenance he was most gracious, which indeed is wonderful to see in one who is warlike and of all most warlike; in this may be recognized the comet's bold and frank appearance, and its gracious aspect, as a token of the future. Note, that the king's countenance is likened to this gracious aspect. How the young white king learned the black art. In this advancement of the } r oung white king, his father, the old white king, took great satisfaction, and his heart beat so high with joy that a terror seized him when he thought that all joys should have their source in the praise and honor of God ; and in this manner his spirit was deeply moved to consider the future upholding of the Christian faith. How great was his emotion ! He recalled how often in former times, powerful kings in their later years were fallen awa}' from the true belief into a new faith, all of which had come about solely through the seduction of the black art. Much is to be written thereof, but as a proof of what I write, this same art is forbidden in the Christian faith and by the ordinances of imperial law, and exterminated, whereby it must be let alone, for the soul's salvation and for the increase of our faith. Although this art is damning to the soul and an in- jur}'' to our faith, yet the human spirit is so weak and diseased 44 SOURCK-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. in its constancy, in its determination to discover hidden things, that this art, whose false basis and unreality is hidden, is so very dear to man that many come thereby into error and despair. Now the young white king often heard speak of this art, and from time to time he chanced to see the very ablest writings, wherein this art is set forth. In the midst of the joy and the contempla- tion of the old white king, as related above, the young white king came to him. Then spake the father to the son : " What think you and how do you regard the black art, which is a damnation to the soul, and a crime and seduction to men? Are you not disposed to learn it?" Thus did the father for the purpose of making evident to him the hidden seduction, and to plant future doubts. The son gave him answer : "St. Paul, that most ex- cellent teacher of the Christian faith, writes and commands us that we shall learn all things and experience all things, but avoid the ill and cleave to that which is good. ' ' Thereupon spake the father to the son: "Go hence and take to yourself the most learned man in the black art, and investigate it thoroughly ; but bear in mind the first commandment of God : Thou shalt believe in one God ; and also St. Paul's teaching, which you have just indicated to me." The young white king sought out an espec- ially learned man in the black art, who began to teach him with uncommon industry, with the idea that this same art should be looked upon by the prince as good and useful and held dear. And when the young white king had studied it for a time, and satisfied himself of its uselessness, he discovered that the art was contrary to the first commandment of God, which reads : Thou shalt believe in one God; and for the first time he understood St. Paul's teaching, for he who has not experience of it easily be- lieves, and thereby it often comes about that he is led astray. For a while the learned man disputed with the young white king, in order to discover his spirit and his desire, and then he said to him : ' ' This art is an art whereby great lords may increase their power." Then asked the young white king of him, whether there were more gods than one. Thereupon he answered : ' ' There is but one God." Upon this answer the young white king said : " You have spoken truly, and thereby is the black art vain, and the learning which I have discovered in the same, the seduction of our faith." From this speech the learned man easily perceived that he was sufficiently wandered in this lore. With how great MAXIMILIAN I. 45 wisdom had the old white king made the reflection above related, and how prolific of usefulness was it to the Christian faith ; for when the young white king came into his years and into his powerful reign, he permitted no unbelief nor heresy to be kindled or spread abroad, which, however, have often obtained the upper hand ; and indeed it has happened from time to time that, through the confidence and by permission of inexperienced men, men of evil have been strengthened in their desperate enterprises and have adhered to them, a thing which these kings through their careful experience and their especial wisdom have avoided, to the salvation and happiness of their souls and to the maintenance of the Christian religion. How the young white king came to the young queen, and how he was received. When the young white king was on his way to visit the afore- said young queen, then was this announced to the two queens aforesaid. Thereupon they were filled with great joy and wrote at once to all their retainers, and let them know as well of the approach of the young white king. The retainers tarried not, but came without hindrance to the two queens. Then counsel was taken of them as to how the young white king should be received. Thereupon was written to the young white king, he should come into the city named Ghent, and the two queens, with their re- tainers, would also come thither; and as soon as this letter had been dispatched to the young white king, the two queens, with their retainers, drew into the said city and there awaited the arrival of the young white king, who, after a few days, himself came thither; and on the same day that he entered the city there rode toward him, first, the citizens of the city, most elegantly arrayed, then all the retainers, princes, bishops, prelates, counts, lords, knights and squires, a great multitude ; then the whole clergy, with all the sacred relics, in a procession, and all the people of the city, and received the young king with great honor and high distinction, and with especial joy; and he too rode into the city, with great concourse, in costly array and royal honors, and all who saw him felt an especial pleasure in his beautiful youth and upright bearing, and the common folk said, they had never seen a finer youth, and they were filled with amazement, that the old white king, his father, should have sent his son, in the beauty of his youth, so far into a foreign land; and the young 46 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. king was festively entertained at his lodging, which was decorated for him in the richest manner. The two queens had prepared towards evening a grand banquet, and sent to the young king persons of high degree, to invite him to the banquet, where the two queens would receive him in person; and when he would go to the banquet he dressed and adorned himself with elegant clothes and jewels, and went with his princes, nobles and knights, in royal array, to the banquet. Then night came on and the throng was great, and there were many torches, for each wished to see the young white king. Meanwhile the two queens were alone together in an apartment, and conversing together said that they would like to see the young king secretly. Thereupon the old queen, the young queen's mother, disguised herself in strange garments and went secretly and unknown out of the apartment into the hall, where the young white king should come. Now the crowd of people was so great that for a long time the old queen was unable to get past, and was obliged secretly to seek, and when finally she came past the people, at that same moment the young white king entered the hall, and when he was pointed out to her at first she would not believe that it was the young white king, for she thought he was too handsome, and that she had never seen a youth so fine, and she tarried to see which of all really was the young white king. And now she saw that all honor was done to this same handsome youth, and moreover that he was escorted by the mighty archbishops and princes, and that this youth could be no other than the young white king. Thereupon the old queen went in haste to her daughter, the young queen, in her chamber, and said from the depths of her heart: " O daughter, no such beautiful youth have I seen as the young white king and this young king shall be thy lord and consort, and no other." From these words it is seen that the king of France and his son came to grief with their secret wooing, which I have mentioned before. For the young white king was indeed a comely youth, well built in body and bone, and had a sweet and lovely countenance and wonderfully beautiful yellow hair; he was called, on account of his beauty and his fitness, the white king w 7 ith the gracious countenance. Now when the young white king stood in the middle of the hall, the two queens advanced to him with great elegance and received him with royal honors, with great joy and DESIDERIUS K RASMUS. 47 friendliness. And as soon as the young queen saw the young white king she was much pleased with his person, and with this same contentment her heart became inflamed with honorable love toward him. In this same hour, with her royal consent, the marriage was confidentially discussed and joyfully determined upon, and thereafter the banquet with great enjoyment carried out. How rich in joy was indeed this banquet, where such a royal marriage, between two persons of the greatest worth and beauty was concluded! DESIDERIUS ERASMUS. Desiderius Erasmus (1467-1536), as he called himself according to the lit- erary fashion of the time, changing the name of Gerhard to its Latin and Greek equivalent, was born at Rotterdam, a natural son of Gerhard of Praet. Left an orphan at an early age, he was induced against his inclination to take monastic vows in i486, but effected his release from a life which he found distasteful, and went to Paris as secretary to the Bishop of Cambray. A student at the university of Paris, Erasmus' health was broken with the privations undergone, both iu Paris and during the following years of scant existence. To Lord Mouutjoy, whom he tutored at Paris, he owed an intro- duction to English society, and an acquaintance with the English scholars, More and Colet. In 1506 he made the journey to Italy, and published from the Aldine Press his book of Adages (printed for the first time in 1500). In 1509 Erasmus returned to England, hoping much from the new king, Henry VIII., who as a prince was favorably inclined toward learning. At this time he composed in England the Praise of Folly, best known of Erasmus' works, perhaps because the Reformers found in it such valuable material for their attack upon the Roman church. Dissatisfied with England as a place of residence, partly on account of the indifference of the king, and partly because of its remoteness from the great centres of publication, Erasmus returned to the continent in 15 13, and took up his residence at Basel. Here he lived the greater part of his remaining years, engaged in literary work. The Reformation broke in rudely upon his labors. While sympathizing with Luther's early attempt to check the abuses of the <;hurch, Erasmus' interests were not theological. His work — and few men worked more strenuously — was literary. To him all was unwel- come that threatened the repose necessary for the intellectual development of Europe. The Reformers, unable to recognize his position or to sympa- thize with a condition of indifference toward theological matters, branded him a moral coward, and traces of this unjust stigma have outlived the per- iod of dogmatic controversy and lingered on into modern times. Of Erasmus' numerous works the Colloquies is said to have had the great- est immediate circulation. "No book," says Hoefer, "passed through mi many editions in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries as the Colloquies 48 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. of Erasmus. In them the author is found at his best, with all that nicety of observation, that caustic and incisive vein, that purity, that versatility and elegance of style which justify for Erasmus the name of the Voltaire of the sixteenth century." For the latest contribution from a scholarly source to the history of Eras- mus, cf. Dr. Ephraim Emerton's Desiderius Erasmus, in the Heroes of the Reformation series, Putnams, N. Y., 1899. Two COLLOQUIES. 1 /. Naufragium. A. These are dreadful things that you tell. Is that sailing ? God forbid that any such idea should come into my head. B. Indeed, what I have related is mere child's play compared with what you are about to hear. A. I have heard more than enough of mishaps. I shudder while you narrate them, as though I myself were present at the danger. B. Indeed, to me past struggles are pleasing. That night some- thing happened which almost took away the captain's last hope of safety. A. What, I pray ? B. The moon was bright that night, and one of the sailors was standing on the round-top (for so it is called, I believe) keeping a lookout for land. A globe of fire appeared beside him. It is con- sidered by sailors to be an evil omen if the fire be single, a good omen if it be double. In ancient times these were thought to be Castor and Pollux. A. What have they to do with sailors? One of them was a horseman, the other a boxer. B. Well, this is the view of the poets. The captain who was sitting at the helm, spoke up. " Mate," said he, (for sailors ad- dress each other in this manner), "do you see what is beside you?" " I see," he replied, " and I hope it may be lucky." By and hy the globe of fire descended along the rigging and rolled up to the feet of the captain himself. A. Did he perish with fear ? B. Sailors are accustomed to strange sights. The globe stayed there a while, then rolled along the side of the vessel and dis- appeared down through the middle of the deck. About noon the 1 Opera omnia (edidit J. Clericus) Lvgd. Bat., P. van der Aa. 1703-1706. DESIDERIUS ERASMUS. 49 storm began to rage with greater fury. Have ) t ou ever seen the Alps? A. Yes, I have seen them. B. Those mountains are mole-hills compared with the waves of he sea. When we were lifted up on the crest of a wave, we might have touched the moon with our fingers. As often as we went down between the billows, we seemed to be going direct to the infernal regions, the earth opening to receive us. A. Foolish people, that trust themselves to the sea ! B. The sailors struggled in vain against the tempest, and at length the captain, quite pale, came toward us. A. That pallor presages some great evil. B. " Friends," says he, I have lost control of my ship. The winds have conquered me, and nothing remains but to put our trust in God, and for every one to prepare himself for the last extremity." A. O speech truly Scythian ! B. " But first," says he, " we shall relieve the ship of her cargo. Necessity, a stern mistress, commands this. It is better to save our lives, with the loss of our goods, than to perish along with our goods." The truth of this was evident to us ; and many ves- sels full of precious wares were thrown into the sea. A. This was indeed a loss ! B. There was a certain Italian who had been upon an embassy to the king of Scotland ; he had a box full of silver vessels, rings, cloth and silk garments. A. Would he not compound with the sea ? B. No; he wished either to perish with his beloved wealth, or to be saved along with it ; and so he refused. A. W x hat did the captain say ? B. " So far as we are concerned," says he, " you are welcome to perish with your traps ; but it is not right that we should all be endangered for the sake of your box, and rather than that we will throw you headlong into the sea, along with your box." A. A speech worthy of a sailor. B. So the Italian also made his contribution, with many im- precations upon the powers above and those below, that he had trusted his life to so barbarous an element. A little later the winds, in no wise softened by our offerings, broke the rigging and tore the sails into shreds. A. Alas ! alas ! 50 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. B. Again the sailor approaches us, — A. With further information ? B. He greets us. " Friends," says he, " It is time that every- body should commend himself to God and prepare for death." When certain ones who had some knowledge of the sea asked him how many hours he thought he could keep afloat, he said he could not say for certain, but that it would not be above three hours. A. This information was more serious than the former. B. With these words he ordered all ropes to be severed and the mast cut with a saw close to the deck, and to let it go by the board together with the yards. A. Why was this done ? B. Because, since the sails were gone or torn to pieces, it was a burden rather than a help. All our hope was in the helm. A. What were the passengers doing meanwhile? B. There you might have seen a miserable condition of affairs. The sailors, singing " Salve, regtna," implored the Virgin mother, calling her star of the sea, queen of heaven, ruler of the world, harbor of safety, and flattering her with many other titles, which the hol3 r scriptures nowhere attribute to her. A. What has she to do with the sea, who never sailed, so far as I know ? B. Venus formerly had the care of sailors, because she was sup- posed to have been born of the sea ; since she has ceased her care of them, the Virgin mother has been substituted for her, in her maternal, not in her virginal capacit5 r . A. You are joking. B. Some fell down upon the decks and worshiped the sea, pour- ing into the waves whatever oil was at hand, flattering it not otherwise than we used to flatter an angry prince. A. What did they say ? B. " O, most merciful sea! O, most noble sea! O, most wealthy sea ! Have pity, save us ! " Many things of this sort they sang to the deaf sea. A. Absurd superstition ! What were the others doing ? B. Some were sufficiently occupied with sea-sickness ; but most of them offered vows. Among them was a certain Englishman, who promised mountains of gold to our Lady of Walsingham, if only he might touch land alive. Some promised many things to DESIDERIUS ERASMUS. 5 1 the wood of the cross, which was in such a place ; others again to the same in another place. The same was done in the case of the Virgin Mary, who reigns in many places ; and they think the vow is of no avail, unless you name the place. A. Absurd ! as if the saints did not dwell in the heavens. B. There were some who promised to be Carthusians. One promised to go to James, who lives at Compostella, with bare hands and feet, his body covered only with an iron coat of mail, begging his food besides. A. Did nobody mention Christopher ? B. I could scarcely refrain from smiling when I heard one with a loud voice, lest he should not be heard, promise Christopher, who is in Paris, at the top of a church, a mountain rather than a statue, a wax candle as big as he himself. While he was bawl- ing this out at the top of his voice, with now and then an addi- tional emphasis, some acquaintance who was standing by touched him on the elbow and advised him, saying, " Have a care what you promise; for if you sell all your goods at auction, you will not be able to pay." Then says he, in a lower tone, lest Christopher should hear: " Hold your tongue, fool; do you think I am in earnest? When once I have touched land, I will not give him a tallow candle." A. O, heavy wit! I take it he was a Dutchman. B. No, but he was a Zealauder. A. I wonder that nobody thought of Paul the Apostle. He himself sailed, and when the ship was wrecked, leaped ashore; for he learned through misfortune to succor the unfortunate. B. There was no mention of Paul. A. Did they pray meanwhile ? B. Earnestly. One sang "Salve ! regina" another "Credo in Deum." Some there were who had especial prayers, not unlike magic formulas, against danger. A. How religious we are in times of affliction! In times of prosperity neither God nor saints conies into our head. What were you doing all this time? Did you offer vows to none of the saints ? B. Not one. A. Why not? B. Because I do not drive bargains with the saints. For what is it other than a contract according to form ? "I will give this, 52 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. if you will do that ; I will give you a wax candle, if I swim out of this; I will go to Rome, if you will save me." A. But you sought the protection of some saint ? B. Not even that. A. Why not ? B. Because Heaven is a large place. If I commend myself to some saint, St. Peter for example, who is most likely to hear me first of all, since he stands at the door; before he goes to God and explains my case I shall be already lost. A. What did you do, then ? B. I went immediately to the Father himself, saying : " Our Father who art in heaven." None of the saints hears sooner than He, nor gives more willingly what is asked. A. But in the meanwhile did not your conscience cry out against you ? were you not afraid to call him Father whom you have offended with so many transgressions ? B. To tell the truth, my conscience did terrify me a little; but presently I gathered courage, thinking to myself as follows: There is no father so angry with his son, but, if he sees him in danger, in a river or lake, would seize him by the hair and draw him out upon the bank. Amongst them all no one behaved more quietly than a certain woman who had a bah}' in her arms, which she w r as nursing. A. What did she do? B. She was the only one who did not cry or weep or promise. Embracing her child, she prayed silently. In the meantime the ship struck now 7 and then, and the captain. Tearing lest it should go to pieces, bound it fore and aft with cables. A. What a miserable makeshift! B. Meanwhile an aged priest, sixty years old, whose name was Adam, comes foreword. Casting off his clothes even to his shirt and his leather stockings as well, he ordered that we should pre- pare ourselves in a similar manner for swimming; and standing thus in the middle of the ship he preached to us out of Gerson the five truths concerning the usefulness of confession, exhorting us all to prepare ourselves for life or death. There was present also a Dominican. Those who wished confessed to these. A. What did you do? B. Seeing that confusion reigned everywhere, I confessed silently to God, condemning before him my unrighteousness and imploring his mercy. DESIDERIUS ERASMUS. 53 A. Whither would you have gone, if you had died thus ? B. I left that to God as judge; nor was I disposed to be my own judge; yet in the meantime I was not without some hope. While these things were going on, the sailor returns to us weep- ing. " Let every one prepare himself," says he, " for the ship will not last us beyond another quarter of an hour." For it was badly broken, and the sea was rushing in. A little later the sailor in- formed us that he saw a church tower, and advised us to pray to the saint for aid, whoever might be the patron of that church. All fall upon their knees and pray to the unknown saint. A. If you had called him by name perhaps he might have heard you. B. He was unknown to us. Meanwhile the captain steers the ship, shattered as it was, and leaking at every seam, and evidently ready to fall to pieces, had it not been bound with cables. A. A sad condition of affairs. B. We came so far in shore that the inhabitants of the place saw our danger; and running in crowds to the beach, they held up their coats and put their hats upon lances, to attract our attention; and threw T their arms upward toward the skies, to signify that they were sorry for us. A. I am anxious to know what happened. B. The sea had already invaded the whole ship, so that we were likely to be no safer in the ship than in the sea. A. Then you were obliged to flee to the holy anchor ? B. Nay, to the miserable one. The sailors bail out the boat and lower it into the sea. All attempt to crowd into it, and the sailors remonstrate vigorously, crying that the boat is not able to hold such a crowd; that each one should lay hold of whatever he could find and take to swimming. There was no opportunity for deliberation. One took an oar, another a boat-hook, another a sink, another a plank; and all took to the waves, each one resting upon his means of salvation. A. In the meantime what became of that poor woman, who alone did not cry out ? B. She came first of all to laud. A. How was that possible ? B. We placed her upon a wide board, and lashed her on so that she could not very well fall off. We gave her a paddle in her hand 54 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. which she might use instead of an oar, and, wishing her well, we set her adrift, pushing her forward with a pole, so that she might float wide of the ship, from which there was danger. She held her baby with her left hand and paddled with her right. A. What a courageous woman! B. When nothing was left, some one pulled down a wooden image of the Virgin Mother, now rotten and hollowed out by the rats, and embracing it, began to swim. A. Did the boat arrive safe ? B. The}' were the first ones to be lost. A. How did that happen ? B. Before it could get clear of the ship it tipped and was over- turned. A. How badly managed ! What then ? B. While watching the others I nearly perished myself. A. How so ? B. Because nothing remained for me to swim upon. A. Corks would have been of use there. B. Just at this time I would rather have had some cheap cork than a golden candlestick. Finally, as I was looking about, it occurred to me that the stump of the mast would be of use to me ; but as I could not get it out alone, I got a companion to help me. We both threw ourselves upon it and so committed ourselves to the sea, I upon the right end, he upon the left. While we were thus tossing about, that priest, the sea chaplain, threw himself upon the middle, between our shoulders. He was a stout man. We cried out : " Who is this third man ? He will cause us all to perish!" He, on the other hand, mildly replied : ''Be of good cheer ; there is room enough. God will be with us." A. Why did he take to swimming so late ? B. He was to have been with the Dominican in the boat, for all deferred to him in this ; but although they had confessed to one another on the ship, yet they had forgotten something, I know not what, and began confessing again at the ship's rail, and one laid his hand upon the other. Meanwhile the boat was lost ; for Adam himself told me this. A. What became of the Dominican ? B. He, the same one told me, implored the saints' help, put off his clothes and took to swimming all naked. A. What saints did he invoke? DESIDERIUS ERASMUS. 55 B. Dominic, Thomas, Vincent ; but he relied most upon Cath- arine of Sens. A. Did not Christ come into his mind ? B. This is what the priest told me. A. He would have swum better had he not put off his holy cowl ; with that off, how could Catharine of Sens recognize him ? But go on about yourself. B. While we were tossing about near the ship, which rolled hither and thither at the mercy of the waves, the helm broke the thigh of him who held the left end of our float, and he was knocked off. The priest prayed for his eternal rest, and suc- ceeded to his place, urging me to hold courageously to my end and move my feet actively. In the meanwhile we swallowed a great deal of salt water. Neptune had mixed for us not only a salt bath, but a salt drink ; but the priest soon had a remedy for that. A. What, I pray ? B. As often as a wave came toward us, he turned the back of his head to it with his mouth firmly closed. A. You say he was a stout old man ? B. Swimming thus for some time we had made considerable progress when the priest, who was a man of unusual height, said: " Be of good cheer; I feel bottom." Not having dared to hope for such happiness, I replied: " We are yet too far from shore to hope to find bottom." " No," he said, " I feel the ground with my feet." " It is," I rejoined, "some of the boxes, perhaps, which the sea has tumbled thither." " No," said lie, "I plainly feel the earth by scratching with my tecs.'' We swam on for some time longer, and he felt bottom again. " You do," he said, "what seems to you best. I will give you the whole mast and trust myself to the bottom: " and at the same time waiting for the waves to flow outward, he went forward as rapidly as he could. When the waves came again upon him, holding firmly to his knees with both hands he met the wave, sinking beneath it as sea-gulls and ducks are accustomed to do; and when the wave again receded he sprang up and ran. Seeing that this succeeded in his case, I did the same. Then some of the strongest of those who stood upon the beach, and those most used to the waves, fortified themselves against the force of the waves with long poles stretched between them, so that the outer- 56 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. most held out a pole to the swimmer; and when he had grasped it, the whole line moved shorewards and so he was drawn safely on dry land. Some were saved in this manner. A. How many ? B. Seven ; but of these two fainted with the heat, when set before the fire. A. How many w r ere you in the ship ? B. Fifty-eight. A. O, cruel sea! At least it might have been content with the tithes, which suffice for the priests. Did it return so few out of so great a number ? B. We were surprisingly well treated by the people, who fur- nished us with all things with wonderful cheerfulness, lodging, fire, food, clothes, and provisions for our homeward journey. A. What people were the}- ? B. Dutch. A. No people are more civil, although they are surrounded with savage nations. You will not go to sea again, I take it ? B. No, not unless God sees fit to take away my senses. A. And as for me, I would rather hear such tales than know them by experience. II. Diversoria. A. Why do so many people stop over for two or three days at Dyons? As for me, when I start upon a journey I do not rest until I come to my destination. B. Indeed, I wonder that any one can be got away from the place. A. Why, I pray ? B. Because that is the place the companions of Ulysses could not have been drawn away from. The Sirens are there. No one is treated better in his own home than there at an inn. A. What do they do ? B. Some woman was always standing near the table to divert the guests with wit and fun. First the woman of the house came to us, greeted us, and bade us to be of good cheer and make the best of what was set before us. Then came the daughter, a fine woman, merry in manner and tongue, so that she might have amused Cato himself. Nor do they talk to their guests as if they were strangers, but as if they w T ere old acquaintances. A. Yes, I admit that the French people are very civil. DESIDERIUS ERASMUS. 57 B. But since they could not be present all the time, and the business of the house had to be attended to and the other guests greeted, a girl well supplied with jokes attended us during the whole meal. She was well able to repay all jesters in their own coin. She kept the stories going until the daughter returned, for the mother was somewhat elderly. A. But what sort of fare had you with all this? For the stomach is not filled with stories. B. Fine ! Indeed, I wonder that they can entertain guests so cheaply. Then too, after dinner they divert you with pleasant conversation, lest you should grow weary. It seemed to me I was at home, not travelling. A. How about the sleeping accommodations? B. Even there we were attended by girls, laughing, romping and playing ; they asked us if we had any soiled clothes, washed them for us and brought them back. What more can I say ? We saw nothing but women and girls, except in the stables ; and even there they burst in occasionally. They embrace departing guests and send them away with as much affection as if they were all brothers or near relations. A. Very likely such manners suit the French ; as for me, the customs of Germany please me more. They are more manly. B. I never happened to visit Germany ; so tell me, I beg of you, in what manner the Germans entertain a guest. A. I am not certain that the process is everywhere the same. I will relate what I have seen. Upon your arrival nobody greets you, lest they should seem to court a guest ; for they consider that mean and unworthy of the German gravity. When you have shouted yourself hoarse, finally some one puts out his head from the window of the stove-room (for they live there up to the middle of the summer), just as a snail pokes its head out of its shell. You have to ask him if you may be entertained there. If he does not tell you no, you understand that place will be made for you. To your inquiries, with a wave of his hand, he indi- cates where the stables are. There you are permitted to take care of your horse as you choose; for no servant lifts a linger. If the tavern is a large one, a servant will show you the stables and a rather inconvenient place lor your horse. They keep the better places for those who are to come, especially for the nobility. If you find fault with anything, you are told at once that if it 58 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. does not please you, you are at liberty to hunt another tavern. In the cities it is with difficult} - that you can get any hay, even a little, and then they sell it almost as dear as oats. When your horse is provided for, }'ou go just as you are to the stove room, boots, baggage and mud. There is one room for all comers B. Among the French they show the guests to sleeping-rooms, where they may change their clothes, bathe and warm them- selves, or even take a nap, if they please. A. Well, there is no such thing here. In the stove-room you take off your boots and put on slippers. If you like, you change 3'our shirt ; you hang your clothes, wet with rain, against the stove ; and you sit by it yourself, in order to get dry. There is water at hand if you care to wash your hands, but it is generally so clean that you have to seek more water to w r ash off that ablution. B. I cannot refrain from praising men who are so little softened with the elegancies of living. A. Even if you arrive the fourth hour after noon 3-ou cannot get your supper before the ninth, and sometimes the tenth. B. Why is that ? A. They serve nothing until the)^ see all the guests assembled, in order that the same effort may serve for all. B. They have an eye to labor-saving. A. You are right. And thus very often eighty or ninety per- sons are assembled in the same stove-room, footmen, horsemen, tradesmen, sailors, coachmen, farmers, boys, women, healthy people and sick people. B. That is in truth a community of living. A. One is combing his head, another wiping the perspiration from his face, another cleaning his winter shoes or boots, another reeks of garlic. What more could you desire? Here is no less confusion of tongue and of persons than there was once in the tower of Babel. But if they see a foreigner, who shows some evidence of distinction in his dress, they are all interested in him, and stare at him as if he were some animal from Africa. Even after they are at the table they turn their heads to get a look, and neglect their meals rather than lose sight of him. B. At Rome, Paris and Venice no one wonders at anything. A. Meanwhile you ma)- not call for anything. When the evening is far advanced and no more guests are expected, an old DESIDERIUS ERASMUS. 59 servant appears, with gray beard, cropped head, a savage look and shabby clothes. B. It was necessary that such should be cup-bearers to the Roman Cardinals. A. He casts his eye about and silently reckons how many there are in the stove-room. The more there are present the more violently the stove is heated, although the weather may be uncomfortably warm outside. This is the certain indication of hospitality, that eve^body should be dripping with sweat. If anyone who is not used to this steaming, should open a chink of a window, lest he be stifled, immediately he hears: "Shut it!" If you reply: " I cannot bear it! " you hear: "Then look out for another tavern ! " B. It seems to me there is nothing more dangerous than for so many persons to breathe the same air, especially when the pores are open, and then dine and stay there several hours. Not to speak of the odor of garlic and bad breaths. There are many, too, who are affected with secret diseases, and every distemper is to a certain degree infectious. Certainly many have the Spanish, or as some call it, the French evil, although it is common enough to all nations. I think there is not much less danger from these than from lepers. Just think, too, how great danger there is from the plague! A. Oh, they are sturdy fellows. They laugh at these things. B. But at the same time they are brave at the expense of many. A. Well, what can you do about it? They are accustomed to it, and it is a sign of a constant mind not to depart from estab- lished customs. B. Twenty-five years ago nothing was more common among the people of Brabant than public baths ; now there is hardly one to be found, for the new ailment has taught us to avoid them. A. But listen to the rest. The bearded Ganymede returns and spreads with linen clothe as main- tables as he considers necessary for the number of guests. But heavens and earth ! how far from fine are the cloths. You would say they were sail-cloths taken down from the yard-arms of a ship. He has reckoned on eight guests to each table. Those who know the custom of the coun- try now sit down, each one where he pleases ; for no distinction is made between a poor man and a rich man, between a master and a servant. 60 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. B. That is the old equality which tyranny has driven out of existence. Thus, I believe, Christ lived with his disciples. A. Well, after all are seated, the grim Ganymede comes out and counts over his company once more. By and by he returns and sets before each guest a wooden dish and a spoon of the same kind of silver ; then a glass and a little piece of bread. Each one polishes up his utensils in a leisurely way, while the porridge is cooking. And thus they sit not uncommonly for upwards of an hour. B. Does no guest call for food in the meantime ? A. No one who is acquainted with the temper of the country. At length wine is served — good Lord, how far from being taste- less ! Those who water their wine ought to drink no other kind, it is so thin and sharp. But if any guest seeks to obtain some other kind of wine, offering to pay extra for it, at first they dis- semble, but with an expression as if the}' wished to murder you. If you insist upon it they answer that a great many counts and margraves have lodged there and none of them has complained of the quality of the wine ; if it does not suit you, why then, look out for another tavern, for they look upon their noblemen as the only men of importance, and exhibit their coats of arms every- where. Already, then, the guests have a crust to throw to their barking stomachs. By and by the dishes come on in great array. The first usually consists of pieces of bread soaked in meat-broth, or, if it be fish-day, in a broth of herbs. After this comes another kind of broth, then some kind of warmed-up meat or salt fish. Again the porridge is brought on, then some more substantial food, until, when the stomach is well tamed, they serve up roast meat or boiled fish, which is not to be despised. But here they are sparing, and take the dishes away quickly. In this way they diversify the entertainment, like play-actors who mix choruses with their scenes, taking care that the last act shall be the best. B. This is indeed the mark of a good poet. A. Moreover, it would be an unpardonable offense if anybody in the meantime should say : "Take away this dish; nobody cares for it." You must sit there through the prescribed time, which they measure, I suppose, with an hour-glass. At last, the bearded fellow, or the inn-keeper himself, who differs very little from the servants in his dress, comes in and asks if there is any- thing wanted. By and by some better wine is brought on. DESIDERIUS ERASMUS. 6 1 They admire most him who drinks most ; but although he is the greater consumer he pays no more than he who drinks least. B A curious people, indeed ! A. The result is that sometimes there are those who consume twice the value in wine of what they pay for the whole meal. But before I end my accouut of this entertainment, it is wonderful what a noise and confusion of voices arises, when all have begun to grow warm with drink. It is unnecessary to say that the riot is universal. So-called jesters thrust themselves in everywhere, and although there is no kind of human beings more despicable, yet you would scarcely believe how the Germans are pleased with them. They sing and prate, shout, dance and thump, so that the stove seems ready to fall. No one can hear another speak. But it seems to please them, and you are obliged to sit there, whether 3'ou will or not, until late into the night. A. Now do finally finish the entertainment ; for I too am worn out with the length of it. B. Very well. When at last the cheese, which hardly pleases them unless rotten and full of worms, has been taken away, the bearded fellow comes forth, bearing a trencher in which are drawn with chalk some circles and semi-circles, and lays it upon the table, so silent, meanwhile, and sad, that you would say he was some Charon. Then they who comprehend the design lay down their money, then another and still another, until the trencher is filled. Then having observed who has contributed, he reckons it up silently ; and if nothing is wanting he nods with his head. B. What if there should be something over? A. Perhaps he would return it. As a matter of fact, this sometimes happens. B. Does nobody ever cry out against the reckoning as unjust? A. Nobody who is prudent. For he would hear at once : " What sort of a fellow are you ? You are paying no more than the others !" B. This is certainly a frank kind of people you are telling about. A. And if anybody, weary with his journey, asks to go to bed soon after supper, he is ordered to wait until the rest also go to bed. B. I seem to see a Platonic city. A. Then each is shown to his rest, and it is truly nothing more than a bed-chamber ; for there is nothing there but a bed, and nothing else that you can use or steal. 62 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. B. Is there cleanliness ? A. Just as at dinner; linen washed six months ago, perhaps. B. In the meantime what had become of the horses? A. The}' were treated according to the same method as the men. B. But do you get the same accommodations everywhere ? A. Sometimes more courteous, sometimes harsher than I have told you ; but on the whole it is as I have said. B. How would you like me to tell you how guests are treated in that part of Italy which is called Lombardy, or in Spain, or in England and in Wales? For the English have assimilated in part the French and in part the German customs, being a mix- ture of these two nations. The Welsh boast that they are the original English. A. I should like you to tell me, for I never had occasion to see them. B. At present I have not time, for the sailor told me to meet him at the third hour, or I should be left behind ; and he has my baggage. Some other time we shall have an opportunity of chatting to our hearts' content. ULRICH VON HUTTEN. Ulricli von Hutten (14S8-1523) was born in the castle of Steckelberg, in Franconia, of the knightly class, and was destined, on account of his slight stature and delicate health, for the church. He broke through the parental plans, however, and gave himself to a life of literary effort. Von Hutten's career was full of adventure and disorder, and lacked purpose, until his asso- ciation with the Reformers turned his ardent energies into a distinct channel. With all the impetuosity of his race he took up the cudgels against the papacy. Although co-operating with Luther, von Hutten's interests were never doctrinal, but economic and political. He looked forward to a united Germany, in which the emperor, with the free knights at his back, should sweep away the territorial barriers to his power, and rid the land of the Italian yoke as well. Although he contributed much to the advancement of the Luth- eran movement in its early and critical stage, yet it was well for him and for the Reformers that he passed away before the movement came to be defined. He would have had little sympathy with its doctrinal tendencies, or with that alliance with the decentralizing forces in the empire, which alone assured its success. Inspicientes. 1 {Sol, traversing the heavens in company with Phaeton, his son, having 1 (The On-lookers.) Ulrichi Hutteni equitis Germani opera. Ed. E. Bucking, Vol. IV. Lips. i860. ULRICH VON Hl'TTKX. 63 finished theitphill journey, employs his leisure in discussing with his young companion the manners and customs of the Germans, over whose land his chariot is now passing. Beneath him is Augsburg, where the diet of ijiS has just been assembled, whither Caietano, legate of pope Leo X., has been sent for the purpose of adjusting a trifling controversy which has lately broken out at Wittenberg. The habitual drunkenness oj the Germans has just been mentioned with regret 1 Sol. This fault is inborn with them, as deceit with the Italians, thievery with the Spaniards, pride with the French, and other vices with other peoples. Phaeton. If indeed they must have a fault, I should rather they would have this one than those you have just mentioned. I hope, however, that time, which mends all human faults, will remove this as well. But let us turn our attention again to the Reichstag and the Pope's legate, for he (just look, father!) is moved to anger and heated with rage. Now he is shouting out something to us from his place in the procession; and I really believe that he is angry at us ; for he is looking this way. Sol. Yes, he is enraged at me. Listen, then, to what the little fellow says, as with wrinkled brow and haughty air he threatens me. Caietan. Here, you! At my merest suggestion, not to speak of my command, you ought to shine clearer and brighter than you have been doing! Sol. What's that you say, legate? What's that you say? Is this the way you talk to me ? Caietan. To you! As though you did not know you were guilty of a great crime ! Sol. In truth I do not. Tell me then, what evil thing have I done ? Caietan. I'll tell you then. So you are coining out a little, you rascal? You are shedding your rays upon the world ? You who ought, upon my slightest hint (let alone my command) to shine clearer and brighter than you do. Sol. I don't see yet, what evil I have done. Caietan. You don't see? You who for ten whole days have shed no beam of your brightness; you who have obstinately wrapped yourself in clouds, as though you begrudged the world your light. Sol. That is the fault of the astrologers and star gazers, if it is 64 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. anybody's fault, for they with their prognostications have ar- ranged that I should not shine during this time. Caietan. But you should have considered what would be agreeable to a legate of the pope rather than what would please the star-gazers. Don't you know what I promised you, when I left Italy, if you did not warm up the German lands, which are so unseasonably cold, and make them quite summer- like for me, so that I should have no need to wish myself back in Italy ? Sol. I paid no attention to your orders ; for it has never been my opinion that mortal man could command the sun. Caietan. It hasn't been your opinion? Perhaps you are not aware that a Roman bishop (who has in this instance endowed me with all his powers) has the power to bind and loose whate'er he will, in heaven and on earth ? Sol. I have heard of it, but I did not believe that w r hat he claimed was true, for I have never known a mortal man to change anything up here. Caietan. What ? You do not believe it ? Perverted Christian that you are, they ought to put you under the ban and hand you over to the devil for a heretic. Sol. Would you cast me out of heaven and give me over to the devil, and, so to speak, blot the sun out of the skies? Caietan. Indeed I will do it, if you do not quickly confess to one of my secretaries and seek absolution from me. Sol. When I have confessed, what will you do with me then? Caietan. I shall lay a penalty upon you, that you may hunger with fastings, or perform some difficult task, or tire yourself with pilgrimages, or give alms, or contribute something toward the Turkish war, or give money for an indulgence, wherewith the cathedral of St. Peter, which now is fallen into ruins at Rome, may be rebuilt ; or if you wish to save your money, that you be scourged with rods for your sins. Sol. That is rather severe. What will you do with me after that? Caietan. Then I w r ill absolve you and make you clean. Sol. Thus, as the proverb runs, you will brighten up the sun ? Caietan. Yes, I will do that, if it please me, by virtue of the powers which the tenth Leo has conferred upon me. Sol. What trickery do I hear! Do you mean to say, that any ULRICH VON HUTTEN. 65 one, even amongst mortals, is silly enough to believe you have this power? Not to speak of the sun, that has oversight upon all. You had better go and take a dose of hellebore; for it seems to me you are losing your mind. Caietan. " Losing my mind! " You are de facto under the ban; for you have spoken disrespectfully to the Pope's legate, whereby you have fallen into great and intolerable damnation. Therefore will I shortly proclaim you publicly and with all the pomp of a great assembly under the ban, because you have angered me. Phaeton. Father, I should scorn this arrogance. What may a wretched mortal do against immortal creatures ? Sol. Let us rather treat him with contempt. He is indeed to be pitied, for he has gone mad through illness. Phaeton. What sort of illness ? Sol. He is sick with greed. Since the matter which he has in hand in Germany will not come his way, he has fallen into a rage and lost his mind in consequence. But I am disposed to chaff him further. What say you, holy father? Would you con- demn me unheard and guiltless ? Caietan. Just as I have said. It is not customary to permit all those to have a hearing, who have been condemned by the Pope and his legates. Sol. That would be wrong, however, if anybody but you should do it. But be gracious, I beseech you, and forgive me my sins just this once. Caietan. Now you are talking properly; for whoever will not be damned, must sue for grace. Wherefore I command you, to look out for me, wherever I may be ; and now, so long as I remain in Germany, to make good weather, and by virtue of your heat to banish that cold which tortures me yet even in the month of July. Sol. Why don't you put the cold under the ban ? Caietan. That is worth thinking of; but you attend to that which I command. Sol. I should have done this before, but I thought that you were engaged in some secret undertaking which you did not wish these ordinary German people to see. Wherefore I feared that if I should shine brightly, and display these secrets of yours to the eyes of the people, your affairs might miscarry. Caietan. How could you show my secret affairs to others, when you do not know them yourself? 5 66 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. Sol. I don't know them ? Do you think I don't know that your present wish is to prevent Charles from being chosen Roman King in accordance with the desires of his subjects? That you have many other things under way, in which, if the Germans knew, they would no longer assist you, but would hate you with a deadly hatred. Caietan. Let them hate me, for they must fear me too. I have indeed not wished to have you disclose such things. Moreover, if 3"OU do it, you are under the ban. Sol. What a t3'rant you are, to be sure ! Caietan. Furthermore, I command you that you shall direct your arrow and shoot pestilence and sudden death amongst the Germans, in order that many benefices and spiritual fiefs may be- come vacant, that pensions ma)' accrue and money flow to Rome, and something of all this shall be mine. For it is now a long time since clerics have been dying frequently enough in Ger- many. Do you hear what I tell you ? Sol. Perfectly. Caietan. But first of all shoot at the bishops, that the pallia may be bought. Then hit the provosts and the wealthy prelates, in order that the Pope's new creatures may have wherewith to live ; for they must be considered each according to his rank, in order that they may want nothing. Sol. In order that I may bring about a pestilence it will be necessary to bring on clouds, to drop a mist upon the earth and darken the atmosphere ; wherefore I fear that this bad weather will displease you. Caietan. Well, I prefer that the pestilence should take place, so that the benefices may be vacant. So far as the atmosphere is concerned, darken it as little as you may ; but if you cannot avoid it, do what is best and most useful. Phaeton. O miserable rascal ! Now for the first time I perceive where the shoe pinches, what pleases and displeases him, what makes him sad, what, joyful. Let the stream flow to his desire, and he can endure all kinds of air, cold and bad weather. I will address him. Listen, wretched man. A shepherd should pas- ture his sheep, not murder them. Caietan. What say you, church-thief? What say you, wicked driver? You, whom I shall crush and crunch in a moment with m}' curse. Will you seek to hinder my affairs ! LETTERS OF OBSCURE MEN. 67 Phaeton. Indeed, I certainly shall, if I am able. For why do you seek to kill those from whom you are forcing money in every way without this means? Caieta?i. You accursed one, you malefactor, you condemned, a son of Satan, how dare you yelp against me? Is it wrong that a shepherd should shear his sheep ? Phaeton. That he should shear them is not wrong; for the good shepherds do that as well; but they do not kill and flay them. Tell that to your Pope Leo, and say to him as well, that if he does not send henceforth more temperate legates into Germany, he will some day see a conspiracy of the sheep against an unjust, harsh and bloodthirsty shepherd, and they will perhaps do a deed that is both right and merited. Already indeed they sing and talk about you, and it is my opinion that they will no longer tolerate you, not even if you should send wagons full of excom- munications against them across the mountains. Caietan. You are letting out a thing that should not be talked about. Wherefore be you excommunicated! I lay this punish- ment upon you for the discourteous, thoughtless talk which you have addressed to me. Phaeton. Then I leave you, an object of derision to the Ger- mans, whom you are in the habit of plundering; and may they drive you hence with ridicule and abuse, even handle you roughly, and so use you, that you may be an example to pos- terity. Scorn be upon you! Thus I punish you. Sol. Cease with your scurrility; it is time to guide our car down the slope and make way for the evening star. Let him lie, cheat, steal, rob and plunder at his own risk. Phaeton. The devil fly away with him! Come, then, I will prick up the steeds and get us hence. J act a est alca. LETTERS OE OBSCURE MEN. 1 Johannes Pfefferkorn, a converted Jew of Cologne, desiring to give evi- dence of his zeal for the Christian faith, secured from the emperor Maxi- milian I. an order which called for the suppression and destruction of all rabbinical writings, as hostile to Christianity. It was the belief of German humanists that Pfefferkorn was nothing more than the instrument of the Dominicans at Cologne, who sought in this manner to counteract the grow- 1 Epistolae obscurorum virorum, Ed. Bucking, Leipzig, 1S64, passim. 68 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. ing interest in the study of Hebrew. The archbishop of Mainz suspended the execution of the order until the matter could be more thoroughly in- vestigated. Opinions regarding the value of the Hebrew writings were requested from several universities, from Jacob von Hochstraten, papal in- quisitor at Cologne, and from Johann Reuchlin. Of these, Reuchlin alone went deeply into the subject. His report was favorable to the Hebrew writ- ings as a whole, excepting certain ones which dealt in witchcraft or were abusive of Christian doctrine. These he considered worthy of extinction. In general, however, he was unfavorable to this method of combatting error, and suggested the foundation in each university of a chair of Hebrew, for the better understanding of these works. Other opinions were unfavorable, and thus Reuchlin stood alone as the champion of Hebrew lore and the defender, in this particular, of the claims of humanism. Pfefferkorn continued to be the instrument of the Cologne party. His Handspiegel, which he sold, with his wife's help, at the great Frankfort fair of 151 1, was a violent attack upon Reuchlin, w T ho replied in the Augen- spiegel, which in turn elicited a Brandspiegel from his detractor. The con- troversy was seasoned on both sides with the violent abuse of the time. The faculty of Cologne condemned the Angenspicgel as heretical in 1513. The University of Paris followed in 1514. Reuchlin was cited before the tribunal of the inquisition, and although his case was transferred to the curia, his book was publicly burned. A commission appointed by Leo X. sat at Speier and declared Reuchlin free of heresy, adjudging the costs to Hoch- straten, whereupon the inquisitor proceeded to Rome, well supplied with funds, and secured a reversal of the decision. A protest of Reuchlin sus- pended execution, and the matter drifted on in the curia without result. But the case, if silenced in the ecclesiastical courts, was taken up before the bar of public opinion. Reuchlin, feeling the need of public rehabilita- tion, published in 1514 a book containing a selection of letters of sympathy addressed to him by men of note in the world of humanism. This was the Clarorum virorum epistolae etc. The title proved a source of inspiration for certain waggish scholars, humanists, and partisans of Reuchlin, whose identity even at this time is imperfectly known. In 15 15 appeared at Hagenau the first series of letters, known as the Epistolae virorum obscurorum. The letters are addressed for the most part to Ortuin Gratius, a distinguished member of the faculty at Cologne, a man of high attainments and of ability as an author. The writers of the letters are supposed to be clergymen, at Rome and elsewhere, who seek or desire to impart information regarding the Reuchlin affair, or who appeal to Gratius to settle some point of dispute. The general effort of the letters is to expose the ignorance and baseness of the clergy and to throw ridicule upon the rank and file of the Cologne party. It is a part of the internal protest against the bigotry and shortcomings of the clergy, a protest that became schismatic only under the lead of Luther. The letters are supposed to be the work of half a dozen men; but among them the most prominent are Crotus Rubeanus (1480-1540) and Ulrich von Hutten. LETTERS OF OBSCURE MEN. 69 MASTER JOHANNES PELUFEX PRESENTS HIS GREETING TO MASTER ORTUIN GRATIUS. Friendly greeting and endless service, most worthy Master! Since, as Aristotle says in the Categories, it is not wholly useless in certain cases to give way to doubt, I will confess that a certain thing is lying heavily on my conscience. Not long ago I was at the Frankfort fair, and, while walking along the street toward the market with a bachelor, we met two men who, to all appear- ances, were quite respectable; they wore black cloaks and great hoods with tassels hanging down behind. God is my witness that I believed they were two masters, and I greeted them, there- fore, with reverence. Then the bachelor slapped me on the back and said: "For the love of God, what are you doing? They are Jews, and you have taken off your hat to them I" At this such a fright seized me as if I had seen the devil, and I answered: "Sir Baccalaureus, God have mercy upon me. I have done it in ignorance; so what do you think; is that a grievous sin?" Then at first he said: " According to my view it is a mortal sin, since it comes under the head of idolatry, and therefore violates the first of the ten commandments, which saj-s, ' I believe in one God;' because, if any one honors a Jew or a heathen as if he were a Christian, he acts against Christendom, and puts himself in the position of a Jew or heathen, and then the Jews and heathen say: ' See how we are progressing, since the Christians honor us; for if we were not progressing, surely they would not honor us; 1 and in this way they are strengthened in their evil ways, despise the Christian faith and refuse baptism." Upon this I answered: " That is very true, if the thing be done knowingly, but I have done it unknowingly, and ignorance excuses sin; for had I known that they were Jews, and then had shown them respect, then I should have deserved the gallows, because that would be a heresy. But neither by word nor deed— God knows — had I any knowledge whatsoever, for I believed they were two masters." Then he answered: "It is nevertheless a sin," and related the following: " I too went once through a church, where a Jew, made of wood, with a hammer in his hand, stood before our Saviour. I believed, however, that it was St. Peter, and that he had the key in his hand; so I bent my knee and took off my cap. Then for the fust time I saw that it was a Jew, and this made me very sad and re- pentant. But at confession, which I made in the Dominican con- 70 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. vent, my father confessor told me that it was a mortal sin, since you must be on your guard. He would not have been able to give me absolution if he had not had episcopal powers, for it was a case reserved to the bishop; he also added that if I had done it intentionally, it would have been a case for the pope. So I was absolved because he had episcopal powers. And, really, I believe that if you would keep your conscience clear, you must confess to the officer of the consistory. Ignorance cannot excuse your sin, for you should have taken care. The Jews have always a yellow ring on the front of their cloaks, which you certainly ought to have seen, for I saw it; so it is gross ignorance on your part, and cannot effect forgiveness of sins. ' ' Thus reasoned in my case this bachelor. But, since you are a deeply-read theologian, I want to ask you earnestly and humbly that you will solve the above question for me, and write me whether it is a question here of a mortal or venial sin; whether it is a simple case, or an epis- copal, or a papal reserved case. Also write me whether, according to your view, the citizens of Frankfort do right that they permit, in this wise, Jews to go about in the garb of our masters. It seems to me that it is not right, and likely to arouse great bitter- ness, that there should be no distinction between the Jews and our masters; also, it is a mockery of the sacred theology, and the most excellent Emperor and lord ought not to permit that a Jew, who is at the best only a dog and an enemy of Christ, should go about like a doctor of the sacred theology. I also send you a composition of Master Bernhard Plumilegus (in common lan- guage, Federleser), which he has sent to me from Wittenberg. You know him, for he was your fellow scholar at Deventer. He told me that you had jolly times together; he is a good fellow and cannot praise you enough. Then farewell, in the Lord's name. Given at Leipzig. NICOI.AUS CAPRIMULGIUS, BACCALAUREUS, TO MASTER ORTUIN GRATIUS. Many greetings, with deep respect to your excellence, as is my duty in writing to your Mastership. Most worthy Master, you must know that -there is a most important question, in regard to which I desire and beseech a decision from your Mastership. There is here a certain Greek who, when he writes Greek, always puts accents over the words. Recently I had occasion to say: " Master Ortuin, from Deventer, also dealt with Greek grammar, LETTERS OF OBSCURE MEN. 7 1 and understood it quite as well as this man, and he never wrote the accents, and I know that he understood what he was doing quite as well as this man, and could have excelled the Greek if he had desired." But the others would not believe me, and my comrades and colleagues besought me to write your lordship that you might instruct me as to how it ought to be, whether you ought to put the accents there or not. If not, then we will make it so hot for the Greek that he will feel it, and we will bring it about that he shall have few listeners. I remember to have seen, when I was with you in Cologne at the house of Heinrich Quentel, where you were proof-reader and had to correct Greek, that you drew your pen through all accents that stood above the letters, with these words: "What is this foolishness?" And so it occurred to me that you had some reason for this, otherwise you would not have done it. You are a marvellous man, and God has imparted to you the great grace to know something of everything knowable. Therefore, you must give thanks to God the Lord, to the blessed Virgin and to all God's saints in your poetry. Take it not evil of me that I trouble your excellence with questions of this nature, since I do it for my instruction. Farewell. Leipzig. MASTER JOHANNES HIPP TO MASTER ORTUIN GRATIUS, GREETING. "Rejoice in the Lord, O ye just: praise becometh the up- right" (Psalms xxxii. n). In order that you may not say in anger, "What does he want with his quotation?" you must hasten to read a piece of joyful news, which will wonderfully re- joice your excellence and which I will briefly relate. There was here a poet, by name Johannes Sommerfeld; he was very arro- gant, looked down upon masters of arts and made little of them in his lectures, saying that they were ignorant, that one poet was worth ten masters, and that in processions it was proper that poets should have precedence over masters and licentiates. He lectured on Pliny and other authors, and expressed himself to the effect that the masters of arts were not masters of the seven liberal arts, but rather of the seven deadly sins; that they stood upon no good foundation, since they were not learned in poetics, but knew only Petrus Ilispanus and the Parva logicalia. He had many listeners, and among them noble bursars, and he said there was nothing in the Scotists and the Thomists, and made sport of 72 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. the holy teachers. The masters waited for convenient opportunity to avenge themselves, with the help of God, and it was the divine will that he held a discourse wherein he scored masters, doctors, licentiates and bachelors, praised his own branch and spoke slightingly of the hoi)' theology. In this manner he aroused great anger on the part of the gentlemen of the faculty. The masters and doctors took counsel and said: " \Vhat shall we do? This man is behaving in a shocking manner; if we let him go on in this way the world will believe he is more learned than we. Let not these upstarts come and say they are of more importance than their elders, and in this way bring shame and ridicule upon our university." Then said Master Andreas Delitzsch, who, moreover, is a good poet, that it seemed to him that Sommerfeld was, in respect to the university, somewhat like the fifth wheel to a wagon, because he stood in the way of the other faculties, by whose aid the academic youth might be suitably prepared for graduation. The other masters swore that this was so, and the result was that the}^ came to the conclusion that this poet should be expelled, or, at least, shut out, even if thereby they should draw upon themselves his enmity. They summoned him before the rector, and posted the summons on the church doors; he ap- peared with counsel, demanded the privilege of defending himself, and was accompanied with other friends, who stood by him. The masters demanded that these should retire, otherwise they would be forsworn if the}- appeared against the university. In- deed, the masters showed themselves full of courage in this struggle; they remained firm, and vowed that in the interests of justice they would spare no one. Certain jurists and courtiers plead for him. To these the masters replied that it was not pos- sible; they had their statutes, and according to these statutes he must be dismissed. What was remarkable is, that the prince himself (Duke George) interceded for him. It did no good, how- ever, for they said to the Duke that it was his duty to uphold the statutes of the university, for the statutes are to the university what the binding is to a book; were there no binding, then the leaves would fall apart, and were there no statutes there would be no order in the university; dissension would reign amongst its members and result in complete chaos. Therefore, the prince must look out for the best interests of the university, as his father had done before him. In this wise the prince allowed himself to LETTERS OF OBSCURE MEN. 73 be persuaded, and declared he could not stand out against the university, and that it was better for one to be dismissed than that the whole university should suffer. The masters were much pleased with this, and said: " My lord Duke, God be thanked for your wise decision." Then the rector caused an order to be posted upon the church doors, to the effect that Sommerfeld was retired for ten years. His auditors, however, expressed them- selves variously in the matter, and said that the members of the council had done wrong toward Sommerfeld; but these gentlemen replied in turn that they did not care a penny's worth. Certain bursars expressed themselves to the effect that Sommerfeld would revenge himself for the insult and would summon the university before the Roman curia. Then the masters laughed and said: "Nonsense; what would the fellow accomplish?" And know that great harmony now reigns in the university, and Master Delitzsch lectures on the humanities, and also the master from Rothenburg, who has written a book quite three times as large as Virgil's complete works. He has gotten together much of value in this book in defence of our holy mother church and in praise of the saints; he has recommended especially our university, both the sacred theology and the humanistic faculty, and he blames those worldly and heathen poets. The masters also say that his poems are as good as the poems of Virgil, and are without errors; for he perfectly understands the art of writing verse and has been a good versifier for the past twenty years. Wherefore, the gentle- men of the council gave him permission to lecture on this book instead of on Terence, for it is more valuable than Terence, and inculcates good Christian doctrine, and does not deal with ha and scalawags, like Terence. You must spread this news in your university, and perhaps it will happen to Busch as it has hap- pened to Sommerfeld. When are you going to send me your book against Reuchlin ? You often mention it, but nothing has come to me yet. You have written me you would be sure to send it, but you have not done so. May God forgive you, since you do not love me as I love you, for you are to me as my own lie art. But send it to me, for " I have greatly desired to eat this Paschal lamb with you " — that is to say, to read this book. Also write me the news, and compose an essay or a tew verses to my honor, if I be worth the trouble. Fare you well in Christ the I.ord our God, from everlasting unto everlasting! Amen. 74 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. BROTHER SIMON WURST, DOCTOR OF SACRED THEOLOGY, TO MASTER ORTUIN GRATIUS, GREETING. Since the defence of Johannes Pfefferkorn "against the calum- nies, etc.," which he composed in Latin has been received here, we have had something new every day. One says this, another that; one is for him, another for Reuchlin; one defends, another con- demns him; it is a desperate struggle, and they are angry enough to come to blows. If I should relate to you all the feuds that have arisen out of this book, the period of an Olympiad would not suffice, so I will merely make a few remarks by the way. The majority, and for the most part the w r orldly masters, the presbyters and brethren of the Minorites assert that Pfefferkorn could not possibly be the author of the book, for he has never learned a word of Latin. I replied that this objection had no force, although it has been urged against many prominent men to this very day, but unjustly; for Johannes Pfefferkorn, who always carries pen and ink with him, could write down what he hears, whether it be in public lectures, or in private assemblies, or when students or brethren from the Dominican order come to his house, or when he goes to the bath. Holy Lord, how many sermons must he have heard during twelve years! How many admonitions! How many quotations from the hoi} 7 fathers! These he might re- tain in his memory, or he might communicate them to his wife, or write them on the wall, or enter them in his diary. In the same way I called attention briefly to the fact that Johannes Pfefferkorn says of himself — not with boasting — that he can apply to any theme, be it good or evil, everything that is contained in the Bible, or in the Holy Scriptures, either in Hebrew or in German; and he knows by heart all the evangels that are expounded the wdiole year through, and can say them off to a letter, a thing which those jurists and poets cannot do. Moreover, he has a son, Lorenz by name, a really talented young man, who is pale as a ghost from nothing but study; and, indeed, I wonder that his father allows him to pursue his studies with those devilish poets. This son collects for his father sentences from the orators and poets upon every possible subject, as well those which he himself uses as those used by his teachers, and he also knows how to cite his Hugh. And thus Johannes Pfefferkorn has come to know much by means of this talented youth; and what he, as an un- learned man, is not able to accomplish of himself, his son does LETTERS OF OBSCURE MEN. 75 for him. Therefore, woe to all those who have spread abroad the false report that he did not himself write his books, but that the doctors and masters in Cologne are the true authors! Johannes Reuchlin has reason to blush and to sigh to eternity for having said that Johannes Pfefferkorn did not himself compose his " Handspiegel" whereby it has been contended amongst learned men that three men furnished him with the authorities which he cited. Whereupon a certain one said: "Who are those men?" I answered: "I do not know. I believe, however, that they are the same three men who appeared to Abraham, as we read in the first book of Moses." And when I had spoken they laughed at me and treated me as if I were a simpleton. I wish the devil would strike them with a plague, as is written in the book of Job, which we are now reading at table in our monastery. Say, then, to Johannes Pfefferkorn, he must have patience, for I hope that God will work a miracle; and greet him in my name. Also greet for me his wife, since you know her well, but secretly. Farewell. Written in haste and without much reflection, at Antwerp. MASTER BERTHOLD HACKERLING TO MASTER ORTUIN GRATIUS. Brotherly love in the place of greeting, honored sir! When I left you I promised that I would keep you informed of all new r s, and let you know how I am getting along. Know, then, that I have been two months in the city of Rome and have as yet secured no patron. An assessor of the Roman curia was disposed to take me. I was quite delighted, and said: " It is well, sir, but will your magnificence kindly tell me what I shall have to do." He answered that I would be an hostler, and my duty would be to take care of a mule, to feed and water it, curry and rub it down, and have it in readiness when he wished to ride forth, with bridle, saddle and everything. Then I must run beside the mule to the* court-room and back home again. I told him that such work was not for me; that I was a master of the liberal arts in Cologne, and could do nothing of the sort. He answered: " Well, if you don't want to do it, it's your own less." And so I believe I will go back home. I certainly will not curry a mule or clean out stables. I had rather the devil would fly away with his mule, stable and all! And I believe, too, that it would be against the statutes of our university; for a master must conduct himself like a master. And it would be a great disgrace to the university if a Cologne 76 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. master should do such a thing. For the honor of the university I shall return home. And, anyway, I do not like Rome; the people in the chancellery and in the curia are so haughty; you would not believe it. One of them said to me yesterday, he would spit upon Cologne masters. I told him I hoped he might have a chance to spit on the gallows. Then he said he too was a master, that is to say a master of the curia, and that a master of the curia stood high above a master of the liberal arts from Ger- many. I answered: "Impossible;" and said, moreover, "You mean to say you are as good as I, when } r ou have passed no ex- amination, as I have, in which five masters have tested me thor- oughly ? You are a master made with a seal." Upon this he began to dispute with me, and said: " What is a master?" I an- swered: " A person of proved ability, regularly promoted and graduated in the seven liberal arts, after he has passed the master's examination ; who has the right to wear a gold ring, and a silken band on his gown, and who bears himself toward his pupils as a king toward his subjects. And magister is used in four senses: In one sense it is derived from magis and ter, because a master knows three times as much as an ordinary person. In the second sense from magis and terreo, because a master excites terror when his pupils look upon him. In the third sense from magis and iheron (that is, status), because the master in his posi- tion must be higher than his pupils. In the fourth sense from magis and sedere, because the master must sit far higher than any one of his pupils." Then he asked me: "Who is your author- ity?" I answered that I had read it in the Vade mecuvi. At once he was disposed to blame the book, and said that it was no reliable source. I answered: " You discredit those ancients, and yet you do not know any better. I have never heard any one in Cologne discredit this book. Are you not ashamed of yourself ?" And in great anger I left him. And once more I tell you that I am disposed to return to German}-, for there the masters are gentlemen, and rightly so. This I can show from the gospels, for Christ called Himself " Master " and not " Doctor" when He said, "Ye call me Lord and Master, and ye do well, for such am I." But I cannot write further, for I have no more paper, and it is far to the Campo Fiore. Farewell! Written at the Roman curia. LETTERS OF OBSCURE MEN. 77 MASTER CONRADUS UNCKEBUNCK TO MASTER ORTUIN GRATIUS, MANY GREETINGS. "A mouth have they and speak not; eyes have they and see not; ears have they and hear not," says the Psalmist. These words may serve as introduction and as text for what I am about to say. Master Ortuin has a mouth and speaks not; not even so much as to say to a servant of the curia on his way to Rome: " Give my regards to Conrad Unckebunck." Eyes lias he also and sees not: for I have written him many letters and he has not answered me, as if he read them not, or merely glanced at them. In the third place he has ears and hears not: for I have asked several friends to greet him when they came where he was; but he has heard none of my greetings, for he has not answered them. In this you clearly do wrong, for I am fond of you and yon ought to be fond of me in return; but you are not, for you do not write me. I should be so glad if you would write me, for when I read your letters my inmost heart rejoices. I have heard, however, that you have few hearers, and that your complaint is that Busch and Caesarius have drawn the scholars away from you; and yet they do not understand how to expound the poets allegorically, as you do, nor how to quote the holy writ. I believe the devil is in those poets. They are the ruin of all universities. I heard a Leipzig master, who has been a master for thirty-six 3'ears, say that in his younger days that university was in a flourishing con- dition, because there was no poet for twenty miles round about. And he also said that the students diligently prepared their lessons, as well the general as the professional, and it was reck- oned a great disgrace if a student went through the streets with- out his Petrus Hispanus or the Parva logicalia under his arm; and if they were students of grammar they carried the Partes of Alex- ander, or the Vade vwcum, or the Exercitium puerorum, or the Opus minus, or the Dicta of Johannes Sintheu. Moreover, in the schools they gave attention and held the masters of arts in honor, and when they saw a master they were as frightened as if they had seen the devil. And he said that the bachelor's degree was conferred four times a year, and that on each occasion sixty, or at least fifty, degrees were given. At that time the university was flourishing; if any cue passed in half the subjects of a year's course he received the bachelor's degree, and if he passed in half the subjects for three years, a master's degree; the result was 78 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. that their parents were satisfied and willing to spend their money, for they saw that their sons were attaining to honors. But now students wished to hear Virgil and Pliny and other new-fangled authors, and when they have listened for five years, even then they are not graduated; and when they go back home their par- ents ask: "What are 3'ou?" and they reply that they are nothing, but that they have studied poetry. But their parents do not know what that is; and when they see that they are not gram- marians, they are dissatisfied with the university and regret hav- ing spent their money. And they say to others later on: "Do not send your boys to the university, because they study nothing, but hang about the streets by night, and the money is wasted which is given for study." And this master told me further, that in his time there were quite two thousand students in Leipzig and as man}' at Erfurt, and at Vienna four thousand and as many at Cologne, and so on at the other universities. But now at all the universities together there are not as many students as formerly at one or two. The Leipzig masters bewail the lack of students, for the poets have done them this injury. When parents send their sons to the bursaries and colleges they are unwilling to re- main there, but go to the poets and study worthless stuff. He told me also that he himself formerly had forty pupils at Leipzig, and when he went to church, or to market, or to stroll in the Rosengarten, they marched along behind him. It was then a serious offense to study poetry; and when any one acknowledged in the confessional that he had secretly heard a bachelor expound Virgil, the priest imposed a severe penalty upon him, causing him to fast every Friday or to repeat each day seven penitential psalms. And he swore to me upon his conscience that a candi- date for the master's degree had been turned down because one of the examiners had once seen him, on a holiday, reading Ter- ence. If such conditions obtained nowadays in the universities, I should not be slaving here in the curia. But what can we do at the universities? There is nothing to be made. The bursars are no longer willing to stay in the bursaries or under the masters, and among twenty students scarcely one has any intention of studying for a degree; but all wish to study the humanities. And when a master lectures, he has no hearers; but the poets have at their lectures an incredible number of hearers. Thus, all the universities of Germany are losing; and we must pray to God LETTERS OF OBSCURE MEN. 79 that the poets may die, for "it is better that one should die," etc.; that is to say, that the poets, of whom there are only a few in each university, should die, rather than that so many universities should perish. Write me now, or I will complain loudly of your negligence. Farewell. Written at Rome. JOHANNES KALB TO MASTER ORTUIN GRATIUS. A friendly greeting, honorable sir and venerable master. It surprises me greatly that you are always pestering me with your everlasting demand: "Write me some news." You are always eager to learn the news, but I have other things to do. I cannot bother about novelties; as it is, I am obliged to run hither and thither and solicit in order to get a favorable decision and acquire that benefice. But if 3 ou will be content, I will write you once, so that in the future you may let me rest with your news. You have no doubt heard that the pope has a great animal, called Elephant, and that he holds it in great honor and loves it much. Now you must know that this animal is dead. When it was taken sick the pope was in great distress, and summoned several physicians and said to them : " If it is possible, cure Elephant for me. " Then they did their best; made a careful diagnosis and administered a purge that cost five hundred golden florins, but it was in vain, for the animal died. The pope grieved much for Elephant. They say he gave a thousand ducats for Elephant; for it was a wonderful animal, and had a long snout of prodigious size. When it beheld the pope it knelt before him and cried with a terrible voice, "bar! bar! bar!" I believe there was no other animal of the kind in the world. They say, also, that the king of France and King Charles have concluded a peace for many years with mutual pledges. Many, however, are of the opinion that the peace was made with reservations and will not last long. I do not know what the facts really are, and do not care much; for when I come back to Ger- many I shall go to my pastorate and enjoy life. I have there many geese, chickens and ducks, and I can keep five or six cows, which will give me milk, so that I can make cheese and butter. I want to have a cook who understands such work. She must be an elderly woman; for if she were young, she would be a tempta- tion to the flesh, and I might sin. She must also know how to spin, for I will buy her flax. And I will also keep two or three pigs and fatten them, so that I shall have plenty of pork; for 80 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. above all things I will supply my house with an abundance ot material for the kitchen. Once in a while I will butcher an ox, sell half to the peasants and smoke the rest. Back of the house I have a garden, where I shall plant garlic, onions and parsley, and I shall also have cabbage, turnips and other things. In the winter I shall sit in my room and study, so that I may preach to the peasants out of the Sermones parati or the Discipuli, and also out of the Bible, and in this wise I shall be well fixed for preach- ing. And in summer I shall go fishing, or work in the garden, and take no heed of wars; for I shall live for myself, read my prayers and say mass, and have no care for those worldly affairs which bring destruction to the soul. Farewell. Written at the Roman curia. JOHANNES BUTZBACH * Johannes Butzbach, 1478-1526, is to be reckoned among the conservative humanists of the sixteenth century. The struggles of his earlier career, related in part below, give evidence of his high appreciation of the value of learning. This sentiment he never lost, and during the years of his admin- istration of the affairs of the abbey of Laach, from 1507 to his death, his constant effort was to infuse into the life of his community a zeal for study and intellectual improvement. His literary activity centered upon the much debated question, as to whether the reading of classical authors was conducive or detrimental to Christian 'morals. Butzbach, true to the tra- ditions of Deventer, affirmed their utility, regarding their use as part of the preparation for the completer understanding of the holy scriptures, whose true significance might only be interpreted by men of universal culture. Replying to the objection, so often urged, that classical writings contained much that was contrary to Christian ethics, Butzbach founded his argument upon the saying of St. Basil, that the literary worker, like the bee, should learn to appropriate only the wholesome nectar and to reject the poisonous juices of the flowers amidst which he labored. Book 1. Chapter S. In the earlier chapters Butzbach relates the story of his infancy and primary education. His career in the school of his native town teas brought to an untimely close by repeated acts of truancy, resulting in a cruel chastise- ment at the hands of the master. About this' time a neighbor's son, himself a wandering student, happened to be visiting at home, and offered to take the young Johannes under his protection and make a scholar of him. The 'The following selections are from the Hodoporicon or Little Book of Wandering. The sole manuscript of this autobiographical work of Butz- bach is in possession of the library of Boun. JOHANNES BUTZBACH. 8 1 parents, who resented Johannes' cruel treatment at the village master's hands, consented, and Johannes set forth with a slender store of money and a large equipment of blessings and hope. Robbed of my parents and homeless, a living image of grief and sorrow, sobbing and crying aloud ceaselessly, I followed with hesitating steps the student striding on before. If I failed at any time to come to his bidding, he became ever freer with his harsh words and bitter reproaches as the way lengthened that separated us from home. In this way he wounded still more my lacerated spirit. Indeed, he was by nature of unusual harshness; and the less cause he had to fear my escape, on account of the growing distance from home and my increasing ignorance of the way, the more he sought to hold me in check with fear and at the same time to spur me on with threats. After a march of two good miles, which indeed was no trifle, as they say, especially as in this instance they separated two creatures inspired with mutual love, we came from Miltenberg at nightfall to the village of Kiilsheim, already mentioned. Wearily I followed the student into the best inn that the place afforded. Chapter q. As we entered the door of the inn, the landlord came forward to meet us, and very prudently inquired from what country we were come, whither we were bound and what might be our wish. The student gave him little satisfaction, but asked him if he could accommodate us. To this the landlord replied: " If your money is good, and you are good drinkers, you will be welcome guests." The student rejoined: "The money is all right. Just have the table prepared and an abundance to eat and drink set forth." "You talk well," replied the landlord, " and I will do with pleas- ure what you ask. I wish, however, that there were more of you; for, hoping that guests would arrive, I have prepared a more than usually sumptuous meal for this evening." When the student heard this he exclaimed: "That is a piece of good for- tune, that you have prepared such abundant refreshment. I have here several relatives, with whom I shall be glad to pass a merry evening once more before my departure; and since they are in service and not well-to-do, I will pay the whole reckoning, and you may rest easy on that score." "A bargain! " cried the land- lord. " I will have them summoned at once." 82 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. The guests did not keep us waiting, but set themselves to the table and showed themselves valiant trenchermen. The student took no heed of what might become of his poor little companion. When the landlord inquired: "Where is the young fellow that came with you ? " the student looked about him and replied: " I think he must have gone to sleep there behind the stove, tired out with the journey. Let him sleep and rest out. Sleep will do him more good than food." Chapter 10. I was not asleep, however, as he said; but I dared not express the feelings his words aroused. During the da}-, occupied with preparations for the journey, I had eaten very little, nor had I desired to eat. Now I was hungry, but I dared not come to the table without an invitation from the student. At the same time the gnawing in my stomach and the pangs of hunger let me neither sleep nor rest. I pretended to sleep, however, and sur- rendered myself patiently to my fate, picturing to myself my wretched and abandoned condition. When the meal was over, the student paid the reckoning for all the guests out of my money, just as though it had been his own. What could I say ? What had I the courage to do or think under the circumstances? He regarded me as something delivered over to him, sold to him, indeed, or as some estray that he had picked up and made his property. Early in the morning we got under way and came to the town of Bishofsheim, two miles distant. There we took a bite and wandered on our way to Windsheim, an imperial city. As we entered the town I was lost in admiration of the massive walls, the houses high as the heavens, and the churches and towers, the like of which I had never seen in our native town or elsewhere. On the following day we journeyed further and came to the city of IyOngenzenn. Here we were affectionately received by a citi- zen of the town, a weaver, who not long before had worked for several years with my father. By him we were entertained and otherwise hospitably treated. We conveyed to him the heartfelt greetings of our parents, as they had urgently requested. He consoled me for the separation from my parents as if I had been his own child, and succeeded in quieting my grief. He never tired cf cheering my saddened spirit with friendly conversation; JOHANNES BUTZBACH. 83 nor did he cease to soothe my wounded heart with gentle words, and cleverly cited as an example the fact that he, and my father as well, and many other persons, both of the worldly and of the spiritual order, of whom I knew, had been obliged to endure much in foreign countries, in order to learn something. The next morning, refreshed and consoled, he set me upon my way, once more urgently commending me to the student's care. Thence I wandered on with my little pack, along the hard and weary and unknown way, trotting ever along behind the student, to Nuremberg, a famous seat of trade and industry. Chapter n. When at last I saw from the distance the towers and the blue smoke of Nuremberg, it almost seemed to me that I was looking, not at a single city, but at a whole world. I thought we had only a mile to go; but when we inquired of some people whom we met on the road how far it was, they replied that it was still three miles. It was not so much the distance as our impatient desire to reach the city, whose image lay before us on the horizon, that made the way so unwelcome. In order to while away the time, the student related some incidents tending to exalt his in- dividual prowess. A song or a story generally causes the wanderer to forget the tedium of the way. When toward even- ing we finally approached the city, we halted a little while under the walls, to prepare us for our entrance into the town. The student sought to spoil my expectations with his witticisms: "Since you have never been here before," he said among other things, " it will be necessary to sew up your mouth." When the tears rose in my eyes at this remark, he added: " Now follow me close behind and do not keep looking to this side and to that; and do not gape at the house-tops with open mouth. And look out that I do not have to wait for you ever now and then in the street, on account of your everlasting slowness, or when we come to the inn you will get a good thrashing." So I slunk into the city all of a tremble, exhausted with the effort of keeping up with my companion. With very tired and bruised feet I followed the student through many streets paved with sharp stones, while from all sides crowds of school boys fell upon me. Because I gave no answer to their shout: " Are you a student? " they held their hands to their foreheads, stretched out 84 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. like asses' ears, and followed me in this manner all the way to the inn. When they learned, however, that we intended to stop in the city, they ceased from further persecutions and began ex- tolling with fulsome praises their school above all other schools in the land. {Here follow various adventures of travel.) Chapter 16. When we arrived at a village, he sent me on to beg, and waited for me at the further end of the place. If I came back with empty hands, he beat me furiously and cried: " Aha! by Heavens, I will teach you to beg jqV. " If, however, I had succeeded in getting something choice, he devoured it at once, and I got only what remained. So it went on the whole time that I stayed with him. Indeed, he was so suspicious that he often forced me to rinse my mouth with water and spit it out, that he might see if I had perhaps appropriated something good from my begging; for it often happened that kindly women, moved by my modesty and my delicate youth, took me from the street into their houses, and when they had listened to the story of my misery and of my, sad parting from my parents, they were moved with pity and gave me as rich refreshment as their own children enjoyed. This dissatis- fied the student greatly, on account of his envious nature, and as often as it came to his knowledge that such a piece of fortune had happened to me in his absence, he fell upon me with fist and stick. Chapter ij. He compelled me to beg through places so foul and muddy, that I was obliged to wade up to my ankles, sometimes up to my knees iu mud, and like one who treads dough, could go neither forward nor backward. Sometimes I was attacked so savagely by watch-dogs that I believe, if the inhabitants had not come to my rescue, I should have been torn to pieces. The student himself had a great dislike for begging and did not practice it, recogniz- ing that he would be laughed at by the peasant people as a great lazy rascal, and he did not care to soil himself with the mud, which he knew was very deep in these places during the rainy weather. Moreover, in order not to be bothered by the dogs, it was his habit to go around the villages through the fields and meadows, a thing which he could not permit me to do, by reason of my begging. This custom he adopted 011 the other side of JOHANNES BUTZBACH. 85 Nuremberg, and held rigidly to it until we earne nearly to the town of Kaaden in Bohemia, and afterwards during the whole of the remaining time that I was with him on the journey. In Kaaden we were invited by the rector of the school to take up our residence, and received one room for us both in the bursary. Shortly thereafter came two wandering students from Vienna with their schiltzen, and were shown into quarters with us. Dur- ing the day, or at least what was left of the day, after the public lesson, the chorus and the begging, I stayed in our cell, but dur- ing the night we young schiitzen, as many as there were of us, used to remain in the common room, on account of the cold, aud sleep on a wooden platform over the stove. Once I fell off the platform, aud although I did quite as much injury to my head as to the stove, nevertheless I was thought to deserve a severe censure on account of the damage I was guilty of. Chapter 24. [After further adventures in Bohemia they came to Eger, where they secured positions in the houses of certain wealthy citizens, acting as tutors and companions to the sons of these citizens, and receiving bcaid and lodg- ing in return.) The student was overjoyed at his unexpected good fortune. My own, however, which seemed to him even better, aroused his envy and anger. " It is not becoming," he said, "that a schiitze like you should be so quickly promoted among strangers, and see better times than I ni3 r self;" and since he had no longer any need, on account of his new position, of my services in begging, he handed me over to two other big students, for whom I was to forage during the winter. I complained of this to the lad who had been entrusted to me, and he told his parents, whereupon they advised me to come home with their son immediately after school and let the others go. After I had done this a few times, against the commands of the student, he caught me one day as we were coming from school, and together with his companions dragged me to their quarters, where they tore the clothes from my body, beat me for a long time with rods upon my naked skin, and then left me tied in the room in the severe cold until the next day. Next morning he asked me if I was disposed to attend to my duties with the students, and I made haste to answer that I was. Then he unbound me, turned me over to his companions with threats and curses, ami went his way to his dwelling. 86 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. Chapter 25. Thus was my lad obliged to go to school alone that morning. When he learned what had happened to me, he hastened to ac- quaint his parents with the facts. The following evening, when we had returned from school, I related to them, at their request, all that had taken place, and they were much moved with compassion for me. The}- ordered me to remain in the house, to await what- ever might occur. The student, however, when he became aware, both from the complaints of his fellow-students, to whom he had sold me, and from my absence as well, of what had transpired, fell into a great rage, and came the following morning to our house, together with a great company of students and schutzen. They succeeded in making their wa}' up to the upper stor)-, where we were, when the father opposed them with weapons in his hands, let drive at them promiscuously, and drove them out of the house and court-yard, calling after them that they should not presume again to enter there. But aias for me! After this occurrence I knew not which way to turn. I had the courage neither to go to school nor even to run an errand out of doors, because my students sent me word that they would tear me into pieces, if they could catch me any- wmere. Out of fear I gave up school, fled secretly from the city and betook me to the baths. 1 There I served the guests at an inn until the new year, when I was kidnaped by a Bohemian noble. Thus was I forced, through the cruelty of my student, to give up school and the study of the sciences, since I could no longer endure his godless treatment of me ; I, who had been so urgently recommended to him by my parents. Neither of us has met the other face to face since that time, nor have I ever learned what became of him. At the baths, however, I came across two schiitzen, who formerly had shared my room in the bursa at Kaaden, and they related that their students had been hanged for theft, committed at some place or other. Then the thought came to me, that something of the kind might have happened to mine. If this ever came to pass at a later time — which indeed I should not wish to happen — at least it was not necessary that he should have degenerated, for his father came to the gailows at home on account of theft. In the meantime I have heard, that 1 Carlsbad. JOHANNES BUTZBACH. 87 after my departure he came once into the neighborhood of our native place, but did not enter the town, both on account of his shame, because his father had been hanged, and because he had lost me. His friends, to whom he contrived to send word secretly, went out to him, and with them my people, who had learned of his coming. When he was unable to answer their pressing in- quiries as to where he had left me, and became involved in even greater contradictious, he took the first opportunity of getting away from them, and from that day to this he has never shown himself at our home. Behold, you have before you all the misery to which I was exposed from my seventh to my twelfth year under the school- master's rod, and you have seen what fidelity that wretched student, after all the careful recommendations of my parents, ex- hibited toward me in the midst of strangers. May the almighty God forgive him for that which he has done. Amen. {The Second Book of Butzbach's narrative contains an account of his adventures among the heretics of Bohemia, during which his school ex- periences were wholly interrupted. He succeeded finally in returning home, where he found opportunity of resuming his studies under more favorable conditions.) Book III. Chapter S. While occupied with the duties and exercises of a lay brother, 1 my inclination toward the higher functions of the brethren grew apace, and I deeply bewailed my misfortune, that I had been obliged to give up my studies. This did not escape the attention of the younger brethren, who had but recently come from the schools, and they secretly advised me to betake myself to De- venter. There was in our convent an elderly monk, Peter Schlarp by name, a very diligent and learned man, who gave me a letter of introduction to the rector of the high school at De-venter, Alex- ander Hegius. Fortified with this letter I set out, although the abbot inter- posed some objections, and expressed himself as having no con- fidence in my success. In the preliminary examinations I was unable to answer the questions put to me, but because they were so astonished at the good and correct Latin of my letter of intro- 1 Butzbach had beeu accepted as lay brother in the monastery of St. John the Baptist at Johannisberg. 88 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. duction I was put into the seventh grade, where I set out to master the rudiments of grammar, along with the little boys. But through want, hunger and cold I came into such distress that I was obliged again to give up the studies I had undertaken. With a few comrades, upon whose advice I acted, I left the place. Two noble lords, Johann G , who afterwards died of the pest, and his brother Frederick, who is still living, interceded for me, and I was taken back into the cloister, although previous to this I had laid aside the garb and entered the cloister of Eberbach, unmindful of the commands of the abbot to return. This cloister is said to have been founded b}' St. Bernard at the time when he was in that region as imperial legate. Thus I received a second time the habit of the order, and a further departure, or a continu- ance of my studies, was no more to be thought of. In a quiet way I had about reconciled myself to remaining here forever, when it happened one day that I had occasion to accom- pany the abbot to Frankfort. Here we encountered my mother. She had heard that I was already a " Lollard," had sought me in the cloister and had followed us with a heart full of sorrow. The whole day she interceded with the abbot, praying that she might be permitted to send me once more to school. But the abbot was not to be moved with the most urgent entreaty. When my mother saw that she could accomplish nothing in this way, she gave me money secretly and made me promise that upon our return I should leave the cloister, even against the abbot's will. Chapter 9. We returned to our cloister. I had not the courage to beg for permission to go forth. Already I was thoroughly reconciled to remaining in my humble condition. Then it happened that the abbot, disturbed in his heart by the woman's entreat}", came of his own accord to me. He spoke to me kindly, and said that I might undertake that which according to my knowledge and conscience seemed the better thing to do. All abashed at his graciousness, I confessed my fervent love for the sciences, and the desire, which had alwa3 T s animated my soul, to attain to the higher grades of the order. Then the abbot said: " Go hence in the name of the Lord and remain ever steadfast in thy good resolve. Thj* mother's wish shall be fulfilled. Go with zeal and endurance to Wiy studies and JOHANNES BUTZBACH. 89 complete them; then come hither and the order will be open to thee." So for the third time I left the cloister and betook myself to my native town. I was a welcome guest with all niy acquaintances; and when the people heard that I was going once more to school, there were certain masters who applauded my resolve and wished me luck. Others, on the contrary, thought I was too old and laughed at me. But my father expressed no little joy at the prospect, and gave me at once the money for the journey. Five guilders he gave me. Moreover he knew that my mother had still a very beautiful piece of money, which she bad received from Hillig when he became engaged to her, and he urgently de- manded I should have that too. But my mother was unwilling to give it up, and intended, without my father's knowledge, to give me another guilder in its place. Thereupon a serious quarrel ensued between them, the result of which was that my mother was soundly beaten and her hair severely pulled. When I saw that, I threw down my pack and the rest of ray money, and with my brothers and sisters rushed to my mother's aid, against my father. I succeeded in dragging her from under his feet. Weep- ing bitterly, I left the house, and registered with myself a vow that after such occurrences I would never again set foot in any school, nor would I even go back to the cloister. Meanwhile my father's anger had subsided, and when he came back once more to his senses, unable to endure the stings of conscience, he ran through the village in search of me. When at last he found me, he begged me, in the agony of his spirit, not to abandon my design. I might forgive him his offence, since he had done wrong through his effort to further my plans. I should be recon- ciled and go on with my undertaking, which had given him so much pleasure. Thereupon he handed me the guilder obtained with so many blows, and I accepted it for the sake of peace, meaning secretly to return it to my mother at a later opportunity, when she accompanied me to the boat. Finally, I tore myself away. Our boat sailed down the Main and onwards down the Rhine. We changed masters both at Mainz and Cologne. Unusually favorable winds filled our - and after nine days we landed at Deventer. Again I was ex" amined by the rector, and put into the eighth grade. There I sat beside six other grown-up schoolmates, who in consequence of 90 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. an insurrection had taken to study through fear; because a few days before our arrival a mob of seven thousand insurgents, who held a city in siege, had been overwhelmed by the Bishop of Maestricht and the Duke of Gueldres. A hundred of them had been con- demned to death. These were executed on the day of my arrival and on the two days preceding, and I saw them still lying on the wheels. Of these schoolmates just mentioned, who entered upon their studies more out of fear than from an}- thirst for knowledge, only a few were steadfast. For the most part they were too slow of understanding and made no progress, while I strove night and da}- by diligent application to acquire a better degree of informa- tion. Chapter w. It was not long before my classmates were dismissed. One of them, however, sat for four years in the same grade and scarcely learned to read, notwithstanding he dwelt with the teacher of his class, and had gone to considerable expense; but with no result. For my part, I had been in the eighth grade but a short time when I was permitted to pass over the seventh and to enter the sixth grade, and from this I came at Easter into the fifth. At that time I secured a place with the Brethren in the relief house, where only those from the fifth grade upward were received, and then only on condition that they intended to become monks. Moreover I was free to visit the house of a canon in the town, who was also provost at Ziitphen, when I was in need; for before my entrance into the brotherhood house, while I dwelt in the city at the house of a very pious maiden lady, I had the opportunity, on several occasions, to be of service to the canon, by lending a help- ing hand to his sewing people, 1 and on one occasion to the chief of his household. In addition to this I had made several other acquaintances, who were favorably disposed toward me, and in time of need and suffering gave me much aid and comfort. During this time I had to struggle against many and various difficulties in the way of ill health and sickness; so that at times, in spite of all my eagerness for knowledge, I was half persuaded to give up the attempt. It seemed to me that never before, up to this time, had I been obliged to contend with such an insalubrious climate and such a raw atmosphere as in this place, whereby I 1 After his return from Bohemia, Butzbach had been apprenticed to a tailor. JOHANNES BUTZBACH. 9 1 was persecuted day by day with all kinds of torments and sick- ness, so continuously that I began to think seriously of hanging my studies on the nail and taking up again my old trade, if only to get away from this region and from its inhabitants. Now it was burning fevers, now tumorous affections, which threatened my life. Next came the quinsy, complicated with a swelling 01 the larynx; then the itch, and indeed in so horrible a form that my whole skin was stiff from it. In addition to this I often suf- fered from boils on various portions of my body. Then too I had a swelling of the feet, and often for considerable periods a swelling of the thigh. Finalty I got help from a woman who possessed a knowledge of the art of healing. With an iron instrument she cut out the swelling from my thigh, which she called a "rose." I was almost crazed with the pain of the operation. Moreover I lived in constant fear lest some misfortune, of which they at home were also fearful, should overtake me. Almost never did I feel myself secure, and when, as it often happens, the outbreak of a war was apprehended, I feared lest I should be obliged to return home before the completion of my studies, still ignorant of the sciences, an object of ridicule to those who were of the opinion I would derive no benefit from my studies, and who, when I went seriously about it, looked upon me as insane. Moreover, it was daily rumored that the pest was at hand. At the outbreak of the pest or of war it was the custom to send scholars out of the town. Furthermore, I suffered much from an itching malady, called "fig- warts," which covered the body like the bark of an oak tree. Moreover, I was constantly pestered with many other untoward conditions, with which the enemy, with divine permission, over- whelmed me, in order to bring me from my undertaking, if such were possible. Strengthened, however, with the instructions of the pious Brethren of the Common Life, who interested them- selves in the affairs of scholars with so much affection and with so much success; fortified also with the consolations of pious people, I overcame, thank God, all these tribulations with patience, and put to shame the treacherous enemy with all his machinations. Chapter //. Now that all these sufferings have been lived down, I dwell upon them in my thoughts with much pleasure, because I believe that they were all sent me for the purification and advancement of 92 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. my soul. Five times, however, it happened, that at the instiga- tion of others I was on the point of giving np my studies and re- turning home. It even went so far at one time — it was a year after my arrival and I was then Quintanus — that one morning I made my preparations to depart in company with certain com- rades. Suddenly, on the evening of the same day, the swelling of my feet and the abscess, of which I have spoken, attacked me. A journey under the circumstances was out of the question. I remained and was promoted to the fourth grade. Now I thank God for this dispensation. Had I departed at that time no one would have been able ever to induce me to return to so much miser) 7 . Two reasons in particular ma}- be adduced, which determined me to hold out and bound me fast to the sciences: my father's desire, while he was still living; and the prophecy, if I may call it so, of certain persons, that I should some time become a priest. The former was expressed at home; the latter at Johannisberg, while I was there as lay brother and cloister tailor; for on a cer- tain occasion, while I was sitting at my work and engaged in confidential discourse with an elderly and invalid father, for whose care and service I was daily responsible; and while I was telling him how greatly to my sorrow I had been obliged, as a lad, to give up my studies — while, as I say, I was telling my story and lamenting that nothing had come out of my earlier studies and my desire to become a priest, a certain round piece of bread, which we call the host, and which I had fastened to the wall over against my work table, out of devotional feeling and from a de- sire to guard against the temptations to which the vigorous period of youth is especially subject, and also to have a remembrance of the sufferings of our Lord always before my eyes, this piece of of bread, I say, to our great amazement, detached itself from the wall and fell to the floor. As the old man, who with shaking head sat behind the stove, perceived this, he stood up, in spite of the senile weakness which weighed so heavily upon him, and in a lond voice exclaimed: "See, Brother Johannes! This is with- out doubt a sign to thee of thy future priesthood! Thou shalt no longer doubt, but of a truth believe, that, when thou givest thy- self again to study, this thing which has just happened shall have the meaning I have ascribed to it." He also foretold the da) 7 and the hour of his death, and even JOHANNES BUTZBACH. 93 after he was dead the brethren called him back to life, to make his confession. His word I never forgot. A year passed before I again gave myself to study, and with my parents' help returned to school, and with God's grace and with the help of the blessed Virgin Mary, within four years according to the prophecy I became monk and priest. Now may this benefaction of God redound to the salvation of my soul, unworthy that I am, and the souls of my people, and to the glory of God! That is my most urgent wish. Chapter 12. The same was once said to my mother by a priest, a very worthy man and pastor in the town of Aschaffenburg, where once upon a time he brought me a chasuble to be repaired and heard the deep sigh I uttered to God, as I tried it on and said: "Would that I too could be a priest." Furthermore my continuance at study was largely due to my late father's desire, who, living and dying, had expressed this as his especial wish. For this reason, during his life, he sent me to school, and on his deathbed he impressed this strongly upon mj r mother's mind. After her death, when I had given up the tailor's trade and was taking counsel with our friends, in reference to going back to school, the following occurred : One morning, as my brother Kunz and I arose and were dressing, my father's spirit, just as he was in life, appeared in front of our room, remained standing a little time in the open doorway, and looked at me in an appealing way, as though he would say to me that I should carry out my plan, which had been for so long his dearest wish, without fear or hesi- tation. More than anything else was this occurrence a spur to my zeal and it impelled me to persevere in my studies. It", in- deed, I had been in some respects too little obedient to my father in his lifetime, now I desired to make amends, since he so ear- nestly desired that I should be a priest. God grant that now, when I am one, it may contribute to the repose of his soul! After this digression I shall now take up the thread of my narra- tive, and I wish to occupy some little space with the praise of Deventer itself, where I endured all the privations which I have mentioned. The people are wonderfully kind toward the poor, to an extent which I have observed nowhere else ; and pious withal and much 94 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. attached to religion. At the same time the town, by reason of its extensive trade with countries across the sea and with Holland and Zealand, is extraordinarily wealth}^. May I be set down as a falsifier, if I have not known a citizen of the place, a great benefactor toward me and toward other poor people, who gave his daughter, upon the occasion of her marriage, a dowry of seven- teen thousand guilders in hard cash. This same citizen's wife was also a very upright woman and wonderfully charitable toward the poor and toward strangers. No da}- passed that she did not invite some six or seven needy clergymen to her well furnished table, not to speak of the alms which she was constantly giving to other poor men at her door. The kindness which this estim- able woman showed me at the time of my sickness and need was truly remarkable, whether it be in the way of food, clothing and money, or with her cheering conversation. She and her family truly deserve to be rich, for they are not, as is the case with so many rich people, proud or miserly, nor do they place their trust upon the volume of their riches, but, gentle, generous and pitiful toward the pra3'ers of the poor, the3 T set their hopes upon God. And this noble city has many more such God-fearing people. In addition to this it possesses an excellent constitution and a well-regulated government. Alexander Hegius, formerly director of the high school at Deventer, has sung the praises of the city in the following brief verses, which are moreover his latest composi- tion : "Of the piety of Deventer Through the towns the rumor goes. I esteem it worth the riches Which there everywhere abound. There the peasant is protected, And the robber feeis the law. There each man receives what bounty, Horse or foot, to him is due. Ever full may stand the treasure, Never touched by faction's hand. Thus we pray, both youth and elder, Night and day for native land." As its patron saint the city reverences the holy confessor Leivin, once a monk of our order, and a pupil of St. Willibrod. In his honor was built a beautiful church, wherein his bones, together with those of certain other saints, as for example St. Margaret, JOHANNES BUTZBACH. 95 whose remains were brought from Rome, and St. Rathbod, bishop of Maestrieht, and many others, have been decently laid to rest in a costly chest. The holy Leivin came from England, and was the first who won this land to the Christian faith. He dwelt on the Yssel, a tributary of the Rhine, and even at the present day his house is shown by people dwelling in that neighborhood ; al- though, in truth, its appearance has much changed. Besides the markets which are held at Deventer at various times of the year, the city has another advantage, whereby it has become famous, and rightfully so, far and wide, beyond all other cities of this region. This is due to its Latin school, renowned for a long time past, which, under the supervision of men of cul- ture and ability, for a long time enjoyed great prosperity on account of its cultivation of the humanities. After the death of Alexander Hegius, of whom I have spoken above, a man of the profoundest learning, versed in three languages, and withal a philosopher and poet, who died in the year of our Lord 1498, the first year of my student life in Deventer — since that time (with sorrow I chronicle the fact), the school has declined greatly, as reports from there inform me. That was indeed a man worthy of all praise, as in fact he has been so deservedly extolled, both living and since his death, by many distinguished men. Like a brilliant light he shone above the people through his uprightness, his comprehensive knowledge and his great gifts, superior to all his learned contemporaries. His former pupil, the illustrious Desiderius Erasmus, in his Adages pays high tribute to the great teacher. The accomplished Rudolph Agricola, in his time rector of the University of Heidel- berg, and Johann von Daiberg, the cultured bishop of Worms, celebrate his brilliant gifts. 1 Chapter /j. The school at Deventer has been of great value to the reformed orders, insomuch as it has supplied them with many educated and scholarly men. So long as the school preserved its merited reputation, by means of good, thorough instruction and funda- mental erudition, its graduates were everywhere eagerly sought. At that time you might see the better-prepared scholars and those 1 Here follow selections from the poems of eminent humanists, written in honor of Hegius. 96 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. best grounded in the humanities streaming into the orders at Deventer and at Zwoll; and the}' were superior material to that which I now find in the first and second classes; although at present they read, it is true, a better selection of authors in the schools than formerl)-. For I have heard it remarked, that out- side of the Parables of Alanus, the Morals and the Ethics of Cato, the Fables of ^Esop and a few writers of this type, for whom they have very little respect at present, it was seldom that anything else was read. On the other hand, a strong effort was made to broaden the student's mind by means of an inflexible industry, which yielded not to the greatest difficulties. Now, however, when all secondary schools, even the least important, are filled with the various admirable works of old and new classical writers, both prose and poetry, the ardor is nevertheless weakened, and students for the most part apply themselves to their work like the donkey to his lyre, as the Greeks say, 5w} c ~/ J0 ? x^vvy. All-devour- ing time permits nothing to endure. Hence the phenomenon that the orders began to decline as the school approached its downward path. Still, since the reformation of the orders, which is not yet a hundred years old in any cloister, they say that many men of intellect have been sent forth from this school, who have been received and provided for in the various cloisters of this sec- tion of Germany. But it is time to return to my previous narrative. I must close with what I have already said of Deventer; moreover, these things are well known to those who have devoted themselves to the various branches of learning, and have laid the foundations of a wider culture. Many such — with joy I chronicle the fact- — share with me here the holy service and bear the yoke of the Lord. Some have returned to the world's turmoil. But this digression, into which my love and my enthusiasm for the times gone by have led me, has been more extensive than I intended. Let us fiually resume the course of our narrative. Chapter ij.. I remained a half year in the fifth class, under the guidance of an excellent man, Master Gottfried, a Baccalaureus of both laws and Master of Arts. After an examination I rose to the fourth class, where I passed a year under the industrious and well-in- structed Master Johann von Venray, and with his permission, al- JOHANNES BUTZBACH. 97 though I hardly deserved it, I came into the third class. This class was at that time under the charge of Master Bartholomew of Cologne, an unusually industrious and learned man. His writ- ings, as well in prose as in verse, are admired by the greatest scholars and most highly praised ; for he is a man of fine, broad mind, and of wonderful eloquence, and withal distinguished in many branches of knowledge. It seemed very strange to everybody that a man of his ability, versed in all departments of science, should keep to his studies, like a perfect ignoramus, with tireless industry deep into the night. He was fond of industrious pupils and very cheerfully did for them what they desired ; wherefore the energetic and zealous pupils, so far as I know, regarded him with so much love that, after they had devoted themselves to philosophic studies for several years in succession under so good a master and reader, and finally came to go away, they could hardly tear themselves from him. Although he indeed deserved it, yet he had never been honored by any university with the master's degree. For this reason he is at the present day a thorn in the side of many blockheads, who are proud of their empty titles, and his works have been criticised and unfavorably regarded as mere school exercises. In the meantime, as a true and genuine philos- opher, he concerns himself not at all with such people, whose science consists merely in an empty title and certain externals, like a camel decked in purple. It is indeed better to possess the reality of knowledge than an empty name. What is a name with- out the thing itself? Of what avail are titles without ability? What avails an honor without the capacity? A characterization without the fact ? Nowadays when any one, even without industry, has gone through his period of study, whether he knows anything of the essentials or not. it is an easy thing for him, by means of a present, to acquire the bachelor's degree, or the dignity of master or doctor. Our teacher Bartholomew for his part held to the ideas of the ancients; he despised every modern usage, and valued an earnest career of study more than empty splendor. A cultured spirit was to him more than a brow bedecked. What value has the red beretta, when within the spirit is shrouded in the darkness of ignorance? In any case knowledge without the title is more to be valued than the mere title, in which so many rejoice, without the knowledge. But of this I have more to say elsewhere. When, as I have already remarked, I came to this highly culti- 7 98 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. vated philosopher in the third class, I made up ray mind to remain until Easter, when I would go home and thence, with my par- rents' permission, back to Johannesberg in the Rheingau, whence I had gone forth, at my mother's urgent request, and upon the encouragement of the brethren, to my studies. I wished to see whether I might assume the higher garb of our order, instead of that humbler garment, which I had put aside, and be received into the circle of the fathers. Scarcel}' had I been six weeks in the class, however, when it happened that the worthy father steward of the island of Niederwerth near Coblenz came to Deventer. Besides the other business with which he was commissioned, he had been requested by our distinguished lord, the Abbot of L,aach, to bring with him several scholars, who were willing to serve the Lord in that cloister, of which he had been already ten years the head, under his secure guidance, in the monkish garb, according to the rule. When he had presented his letters, addressed to the rector, he also expressed his solicitude concerning this matter in the house of the Brethren. Moreover in other towns of this region, where his business took him, he made careful inquiries in schools, bursaries and brotherhood houses, as well as with private citizens ; seeking young clerks, so-Galled, endowed with a suffi- cient knowledge of the sciences, and disposed to leave their further study for the sake of God's service, in order to devote themselves to the life of the cloister and to the investigation of holy writ. Something like three weeks elapsed, and as yet he had found no one who wished to accept his offer. Returning to Deventer, he considered it advisable to seek the cooperation of the rector, Master Ostendorp, who, as an eloquent and learned man, had succeeded the aforesaid Alexander in the government of the school. Master Ostendorp came at once to the third and fourth classes, and sought with eloquent words, such as stood to his command, to awaken enthusiasm among the scholars for the monastic life. First he spoke in praise of the Benedictines, then he spoke in terms of highest approbation of the abbe)' of L,aach, as well as of the merit of its abbot. But all effort seemed in vain, so far as the scholars were concerned, for the lectures had already begun, and the auditors were inscribed with their new instructors. In man}- cases the lessons of the new classes had been begun, and the honoraria already discharged to the new instructors for the semester, and it was thought shameful and unbecoming to demand THOMAS PLATTER. 99 these back from the rector and from the professors. More, ver, each one had already made his provision for food and lodging, and did not care to let these things go. Furthermore, it was an unsuitable time for traveling ; a very great cold prevailed, which frightened everyone from the project. {Butzbach hoivever, afler much deliberation, accepted the offer and made the tedious winter journey up the Rhine to Laach, of which abbey he eventually became the head.) THOMAS PLATTER. 1 Thomas Platter, 1 499-1 582, affords another example of the strong general impulse toward intellectual advancement which characterized the eve of the Protestant Reformation in Germany. Born in Switzerland, in the canton of Wallis, Platter obtained the rudiments of his education at Schlettstadt, in the upper Rhine country. Successively rope-maker, proofreader, publisher and finally chosen rector of the city school of Zurich, Platter, like Butzbach, ever displayed an ardor in the pursuit of learning, which no obstacles nor temporary interruptions of his course of study were able to extinguish. Led awa)' in childhood upon a course of mendicancy and thievery, he came unscathed through these adverse experiences, retaining only an inflexible desire for that culture of which his wanderings had afforded so meagre a foretaste. A follower of the Zurich reformer, Platter took an active part in the struggles of the Zwinglian party, became one of the leaders in Swiss Protestant life, and died full of years and honors. THE BACCHANTENSCHUTZ. When they would no longer let me herd the goats I went to a farmer who had married one of my cousins, a miserly and ill- tempered man. I had to herd his cows, for in most places in Wallis there were no common cow-herds ; and whoever had no mountain pasture, whither he might conduct his cattle in sum- mer, kept a herder for them, who pastured them 011 his em- ployer's property. After I had been there for a while my cousin Fransy came, and wished to take me to my cousin, Master Autoni Platter, in order that I might learn my letters, as they say, when they put anyone in school. This cousin Autoni was no longer stationed at Grenchen, but at the church of St. Nicholas, in the vil- lage they call Gasseu. When the farmer, who was called Antscho (that is Autoni) an der Habzueht, heard my cousin's intention, he- was much dissatisfied. He said I would learn nothing ; and put- 1 Thomas und Felix Platter, bearbeitet von II. Boos. Leipzig, 1S78. IOO SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. ting the index finger of his right hand into the palm of his left, he added: " He will no more learn than I can poke my finger through my palm." I saw and heard this. Then my cousin replied : " But who can say ? God has not denied him gifts. He might become an excellent priest." So she took me to the master. I was, I think, about nine or nine and a half years old. At first it was very unpleasant for me, because the master was a high-tempered man, and I an awkward peasant lad. He beat me savagery, seized me often by the ears and drew me from the hearth, so that I shrieked like a goat with the knife at his throat, and the neighbors often cried out against him, that he would murder me. I did not stay long with him. About this time there came along another cousin, who had been away to school in Ulm and Munich in Bavaria. He was a Summermatter, son of my old grandfather's son. This student was named Paulus Summer- matter. When my relatives spoke to him of me, he promised to take me with him and put me to school in Germany. As I learned of this I fell upon my knees and prayed to God the al- mighty, that he would deliver me from the parson, who had taught me just nothing at all, but had beat me sore ; for all I had learned was to sing the Salve for eggs, along with other pupils, who were also at the parson's, in the village. One time we thought we would perform a mass ; so the other youngsters sent me into the church for a candle, which I stuck all lighted into my sleeve, and burned me, so that I bear the mark of it to this day. When the time came for Paulus to set out again upon his wanderings, I was to join him at Stalden. Near Stalden is a house called " The Miihlbach." There dwelt a man, called Simon zu der Summermatter, my mother's brother, who was supposed to be my guardian. He gave me a golden florin, which I carried in my hand all the way to Stalden, and often on the way I looked to see if I still had it ; and there I gave it over to Paulus, and thus we went forth from home. I had to beg now for myself and also to provide for my bacchant, Paulus ; and an account of my simpleness and rustic speech people gave me freely. When at evening we crossed the Grimsel mountain and came to an inn, I saw there for the first time an earthenware stove. The moon was shining on the tiles of the stove and I thought it was a great calf, for I saw only the two tiles, and these THOMAS PLATTER. IOI I took for its ej'es. Next morning I saw some geese, which I had never seen before, and when they hissed at me I thought it was the devil, and that he would eat me up ; and I fled screaming. At Lucerne I saw tiled roofs for the first time, and I marvelled at the red roofs. We came thence to Zurich, where Paulus waited for certain companions, who were to journey with us toward Meissen. In the meantime I went begging and completely provided Paulus' support, for whenever I entered an inn the people were pleased to hear me speak the dialect of Wallis and willingly gave to me. At that time there was a certain man in Zurich, who came from Wallis stock, an eccentric man, Karle by name, who was generally thought to be an exorcist ; for he knew at all times what was go- ing on here and there. He was well known to the Cardinal. This Karle came to me (for we had taken lodgings at a certain house), and said that if I would let him give me a certain number of stripes on my bare back, he would give me a Zurich piece of six. I allowed myself to be persuaded, and he seized me fast, laid me across a chair and lashed me well. When I was done smarting he begged of me I should lend him the money back again ; he wished to sup with a lady, aud was in need of a piece of six to pay the bill. I gave him the money, aud never saw it again. After we had waited from eight to nine weeks for our com- panions, we set out for Meissen. Forme it was a long journey, for I was not accustomed to go so far, and moreover I had to look out for our subsistence on the way. We set out then, eight or nine of us together, three little schiitzen, the rest big bacchant en, as they were called, among whom I was the smallest and the youngest schiltze of all. When I did not travel briskly enough, my cousin Paulus, who walked behind, pricked up my paces with a switch or a stick, laid upon my bare legs; for I had no hose and my shoes were worn out. I can recollect no longer all that happened to us on the way ; but some things I remember. While all sorts of things were being discussed as we marched along, the bacchanten remarked to each other that it was the custom in Meissen and Silesia to permit scholars to steal geese and ducks and other things to eat, and that nothing would be done to them, unless they allowed themselves to be taken by the one to whom the property belonged. One day, not far from a village we saw a great flock of geese, un- accompanied by the goosedierd (for each village has its especial 102 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. goose-herd), who was quite a distance away in company with the cow-herd. Thereupon I asked of my companions, the schutzen : "When shall we be in Meissen, where I may kill geese?" They said, " We are there now." Then I took a stone, threw at a goose and hit it on the leg. The other geese flew away; the lame one, however, could not follow. Then I took another stone and hit it on the head, so that it fell ; for I had learned the art of throwing stones while I was herding goats, so that no herder of my age could surpass me ; and I could blow the herder's horn and leap with poles, for I had exercised these arts among my fellow herders. Then I ran up to the goose, siezed it by the neck, stuck it under my coat and went on through the village. But the goose-herd came running after me and cried: "The boy has stolen one of my geese ! " I and my fellow schutzen with me took to our heels, and the goose's feet were sticking out from under my jacket. The peasants came on with spears, which they knew how to throw, and followed close upon us. When I saw that I could not escape with the goose, I let it drop. Beyond the village I sprang aside from the road into the bushes, but two of my companions, who kept to the road, were overhauled by the peasants. They fell upon their knees and begged for mercy, saying they had done them no harm ; and when the peasants saw that none of them had let the goose drop, they went back into the village, taking the goose with them. When I saw, however, how they pursued my companions, I was in deep distress. I said to myself: "Good heavens, I surely think I have not said my prayers to-day ! " For I had been taught to say my prayers every morning. When the peasants returned to the village they found our bacchantc?i at the inn ; for they had gone on ahead, and we were following. The peasants were of the opinion that they should pay for the goose ; it was a matter of tw T o pence. I do not know whether they paid or not, but when they came back to us, they laughed and asked us how we had fared. I tried to excuse myself on the ground that it was the custom of the country ; but they said, the time for that had not yet come. On another occasion a murderer came upon us in a wood, eleven miles this side of Nuremberg, when we happened to be all to- gether. He sought to trifle with our bacchanten, in order to detain us until his companions came together. We had with us at that time an honest fellow, by name Anton i Schallbetter, from Visperze- THOMAS PLATTER. 103 hendeu in Wallis, who feared no four or five, as he had often shown in Nuremberg and Munich, and in many other places. He threatened the murderer, ordering him to get out of the way ; and he did so. It was so late, however, that we could only reach the nearest village. There were two inns, but few houses beside. When we entered one of the inns, the murderer was there before us, and still others, without doubt his companions. We would not stay there, and went to the other inn, but they came thither also. At supper time the people of the house were so busy that the} 7 would give us little fellows nothing to eat, for we never sat at table with our bacchanten. Nor would they give us any bed, but we must lie in the stables. When, however, they were con- ducting the big fellows to bed, Antoni said to the host : " Host, it seems to me you have rather unusual guests, and that you your- self are not much better. I tell you, landlord, you had better put us where we shall be safe, or we will kick up such a row for 5 r ou, that your house will not be big enough to hold it." For the rascals made every effort to engage our fellows in a game of chess, a thing which I had never heard of before. Then they were shown to bed, and I, with the other little fellows, were sent to lie supperless in the stables. There came in the night certain ones, the host himself with them very likely, to the chamber door, and sought to open it. Now Antoni had set a screw against the lock upon the inner side and rolled the bed against the door and made a light ; for he al- ways carried candles and flint and steel with him ; and quickly he wakened his companions. When the rascals heard this, they went away. Next morning we found neither host nor servant. This is the story they told to us boys. We were all rejoiced that nothing had happened to us in the stable. After we had gone a good mile, we met with people, who, when they heard where we had passed the night, expressed their surprise that we had not all been murdered, for the entire village has the reputation of being a murderers' den. About a quarter of a mile this side of Naumburg our big fellows remained behind in a village ; for when they wished to feast, they sent us on ahead. There were five of us. Then rode eight men out of the open country upon us with cross hows spanned, and demanded money, and turned their bolts upon us ; for as yet no one bore firearms on horseback. Then one of them said : "Give us money !" One of us, who was pretty well grown, re- 104 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. plied: " We have no money ; we are poor scholars." A second time he cried : "Give us money!" But our companion said: " We have no money, and will give you no money, nor do we owe you any." Then the horseman drew his sword, and aimed a blow at his head, so that he severed the cord that held his pack. Our comrade was called Johannes von Schalen, and was from the vil- lage of Visp. Then they rode away into a wood, but we set off for "Naumburg. Soon our bacchanten came along ; they had not seen the rascals. We have often at other times been in danger from horsemen and murderers, both in the forest of Thuriugia, in Fraucouia and in Poland. At Naumburg we remained several weeks. We schutzen went into the city. Some, who could sing, went singing, but I went begging. We attended no school, and the others would not suffer this, but threatened to force us to go to school. The school-master also ordered our bacchanten to go to school, or they would be arrested. Antoni sent him word to come ahead ; and since there were several Swiss there, they let us know what day they were coming, so that we should not be taken unawares. Then we little schutzen carried stones up to the roof, while Antoni and the others held the doors. When the school-master came with his whole following of schutzen and bacchanten, we youngsters threw stones upon them, so that they gave way. Thereupon we learned that we had been complained of before the city authorities. We had a neighbor, who was about to give his daughter a husband. He had a pen full of fat geese, of which we took three by night and retired to another quarter of the town. It was a suburb, but without walls, as indeed was the place where we had formerly been. There the Swiss joined us, and they feasted together. Then our fellows w 7 ent to Halle in Saxony, and we entered the school at St. Ulrich's. There, however, our bacchanten used us so shamefully that sev- eral of us conspired with my cousin Paulus, with the intention of running away from the bacchanten. In this manner we came to Dresden; but there were no good schools there, and our sleeping- rooms w y ere so full of vermin, that at night we could hear them crawling under us in the straw. Again we got under way and came to Breslau. On the way we suffered much from hunger, so that often we had nothing to eat but raw onions with salt, often for several days only roasted THOMAS PLATTER. 105 acorns, wild apples and pears. Many a night we lay under the open sky, when no one would suffer us to enter his house, how- ever politely we begged for lodging ; sometimes they set the dogs upon us. In Breslau, however, everything was abundant; so cheap, indeed, that the poor scholars overate and often fell into serious illness. At first we went to the school in the cathedral of the Holy Cross. When, however, we learned that there were some Swiss in the upper parish of St. Elizabeth, we went thither. There were two from Bremgarten, two from Mellingen and others, and many Swabians as well ; there was no distinction made between Swabians and Swiss. We addressed each other as com- patriots and protected each other. The city of Breslau has seven parishes, and each parish has a separate school. No scholar is permitted to sing in another parish than his own, or they cry, Ad idem ! ad idem ! and the sckutzen rush together and fight fiercely. There are said to have been sev- eral thousand bacchanten and schulzen in the city at one time, all of whom were supported with alms ; some had been there froxn twenty to thirty years and even longer, and they had their schulzen, who begged for them. I have often of an evening carried five or six loads to my bacchanten at the school where the)' dwelt. People gave very willingly to me, because I was small and a Swiss ; for they were very fond of the Swiss. There was great sympathy for the Swiss, because at this time they had fared ill in the battle of Milan, ' wherefore it was the custom to say, "The Swiss have lost their good luck;" for previously it was the belief that they were well nigh insuperable. One da\- at the market-place I met two gentlemen or squires, and later on I learned that one of these was named Berzenauer and the other Fugger. As they were walking by, I begged for alms, as was the custom with the poor scholars. The Fugger said to me, "Whence come you," and when he heard that I was Swiss, he spoke aside with Benzenauer and then said to me: "If you are really Swiss, I will adopt you and sign the papers before the authorities here in Breslau ; but you must bind yourself to remain with me all your life long, and to attend me wherever I may he." I replied : " I have been entrusted to the care of a certain person from home, and I will speak to him about it." When, however, 'Marignar.o, September, 1515. 106 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. I mentioned the matter to my cousin Paulus, he said; "I have brought you from home and it is my intention to turn you over again to your own people ; what they tell you to do, that you can do." So I declined the Fugger's offer, but as often as I went to his house his people did not permit me to come away empty- handed. There I remained a long time: One winter I was sick three times, so that I had to be taken to the hospital. The scholars have their special hospital and their own physician. The city gives sixteen heller a w y eek for each scholar, and this answers very nicely. They have good care and good beds too, but there are so many insects that I preferred to lie in the common room, or, as many did, on the stove. The scholars and bacchanten, indeed the ordinary men, in many cases are so full of vermin that it is beyond belief. Many a time, especially in summer, I went out to the Oder, which flows by the city, washed my shirt and hung it up on a bush to dry; meanwhile I picked the vermin from my coat, dug a hole in the ground, threw a handful of lice into it, covered them up with earth and set a cross upon the place. In the winter the schiitzen lay upon the stove in the school; the bacchanten, how- ever, slept in their cells, of which there were several hundred at St. Elizabeth ; in summer, however, when the weather was warm, we slept in the churchyard, collecting the grass, which in summer the}' spread in front of the houses in the fine streets on Sunday. This we carried to the churchyard, heaped it together in a corner, and there we lay like pigs in straw; but wdien it rained, we ran into the school, and during thunder showers we sang responses and other offices with the chanter almost the whole night through. Once in a while after supper in summer we went begging in the beer-houses. The drunken Polacks gave us so much beer that I often unwittingly became drunk, so that I could not get back to the school, although I was only a stone's throw away. On the whole there was enough to eat in Breslau, but not much study- ing. In the school at St. Elizabeth nine bachelors lectured at the same time in one room; of Greek there was no trace anywhere in that part of the country; moreover, no one had any printed books, except the teacher, who had a printed Terence. What- ever was presented had to be dictated in the first place, then analyzed, then construed, and at length expounded; so that the bacchanten had loads of trash to carry when they went home. THOMAS PLATTER. 107 Thence eight of us went on to Dresden. We suffered greatly from hunger on the way. One day we determined to divide our forces; certain ones should go after geese, others after turnips and onions, one should bring a pot, and we little ones were to go to the town of Neumarkt, which la}- not far away upon our road, and procure bread and salt. At evening we were to come to- gether outside the town, and cook whatever we had collected. About a rifle-shot distance from the town was a spring, where we intended to spend the night. When the people in the town saw the fire, however, they came out, but did not find us there; we took to our heels behind a ridge of ground toward a pond in the woods. The big fellows piled up bushes and made a hut; some of us plucked the geese, of which we had two, while others prepared the turnips for the pot, and put therein the heads and feet and entrails of the geese; still others made two wooden spits and be- gan to roast the geese, and as soon as they were a little reddened with the heat we took them from the spit and ate them; and the turnips as well. In the night we heard a noise; near-by was a fish-pond; during the day the water had been drained off, and the fish were leaping in the mud. We gathered up the fish, as many as we could carry in a shirt fastened to a staff, and went hence to a village. There we gave one fish to a peasant, on condition that he should cook the others in beer for us. When finally we came to Dresden, the schoolmaster and our bacchanten sent some of us boys forth to look about for geese. We agreed that I should throw at the geese, while the others were to get them and carry them away. After we had found a flock of geese, and they had caught sight of us, they flew away; then I threw a little club which I had with me up under them as they flew, and struck one of them, so that it fell to the -round. But my companions saw the gooseherd and dared not run for it, although they had considerably the start of the herder. Then the other geese flew down and surrounded the wounded goose and gabbled as though they were speaking to it; and it stood up again and went away with the others. I was vexed with my comrades, that the} r had not carried out their promises; but we did better after that, for we brought home two geese. These the bacchayiten ate with the schoolmaster at a farewell feast. Thence we set out for Nuremberg and further on to Munich. On the way, not far from Dresden, it happened that I went beg- IOS SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. ging into a village and came up to a peasant's house. The peas- ant asked me who I was ; and when he heard that I was a Swiss, he asked if I had not comrades who were also Swiss. I said : " My comrades are waiting for me outside the village." Then he answered : " Tell them to come! " He prepared a good meal for us and gave us plenty of beer. When we were quite comfortable and the peasant with us, he said to his mother, who lay on the bed in the common room : " Mother, I have heard you say, you wanted very much to see a Swiss before you died ; now here you see sev- eral of them ; for I have invited them on your account." Then the mother raised herself, thanked her son for the guests and said : " I have heard so main- good things said about the Swiss, that I was very anxious to see one. It seems to me I shall now die that much easier ; therefore make merry!" and she lay down again. We thanked the peasant and departed. As we came near Munich it was too late to see the city, so we had to spend the night in the lazaretto. When on the following morning we came to the city gate, they would not admit us ; we had, however, an acquaintance in the city. Whom we gave as refer- ence. My cousin Paulus, who had been in Munich before, was permitted to look this man up, with whom he had lodged on the occasion of his former visit. He came and went security for us, and then they let us in. Paulus and I went to the house of a soap-boiler, named Hans Schrall, who had taken his master's degree at Vienna, but was an enemy to priestcraft. He had married a beautiful girl, with whom he came, many years later, to Basel, wdiere he worked at his trade ; and main- people here know him. I helped this master boil soap more than I went to school ; went with him to the villages, buying ashes. Paulus, however, went to school in the parish of Our Lady and so did I, but rarely, merely because I had to sing for bread through the streets and support my bacchant, Paulus. The woman of the house was very fond of me ; she had an old blind black dog, and it was my task to feed him, make his bed and lead him into the court. She al- ways said : " Tommy, take the best care of my doggy ; you wou't be any the worse for it." When we had been there a time, Paulus began to get too friendly with the maid. This the master would not permit. Then Paulus determined that we should go home, for we had not been at home in five years. So homeward we turned toward Wallis. My friends there could scarcely understand THOMAS PLATTER. IO9 me ; the}' said : " Our Tommy speaks so strangely that scarcely anybody can understand him ;" for I was young then, and had learned a little of the speech of every place where I had stopped a while. In the meanwhile my mother had taken another husband, for Heinzmann am Grund was dead ; at the end of her period of mourning she had married Thomas an Garstern. On this account I could not be with her much, but spent most of my time with my cousins, especially with my cousin Simon Summermatter and my cousin Fransy. A little later we set out again and came to Ulm. Paulus took still another boy with him, named Hildebrand Kalbermatter, a parson's son ; he too was very young. They gave him some cloth, such as was made in the country, enough for a coat. When we came to Ulm, Paulus had me go about with the cloth and solicit the money for making it up. In this way I got a good deal of money, for I was an expert at flattery and begging, and for this reason the bacchanten had used me for this purpose from the beginning, and would not let me go to school, nor even learn to read. There at Ulm I seldom went to school, and at first, when I ought to have been going, I went about with the cloth, and suffered greatly from hunger ; for everything that I obtained I brought home to the bacchanten. I dared not eat a morsel, for I feared a beating. Paulus had associated with him another bacchant, Achatius by name, a Mainzer by birth. My comrade and I had to support them with begging, but Hildebrand ate almost everything. Therefore they used to follow him through the streets, in order to catch him eating, or they made him rinse his mouth with water and spit it out into a dish, so that they could see if he had eaten anything. Then they threw him upon a bed, placed a pillow upon his head, so that he could not cry out, and they beat him, these two bacchanten, until they could beat him no longer. Wherefore I was afraid and brought everything h me. Often they had so much bread that it moulded ; then they cut oil the mouldy part and gave it to us to eat. I have often suffered severely from hunger, and from cold as well, lor I had to go about in the darkness until midnight and sing for bread. I must not forget to relate that there was a kind widow living at Ulm, who had two unmarried daughters and one son, Paulus Reling, who was also unmarried. Often in winter the widow wrapped my feet in a warm piece of fur, which she put behind IIO SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. the stove, so that she could warm my feet when I came. She gave me then a dish of porridge and sent me home. I have been so hungry that I have driven the dogs from bones and gnawed at them, and I have sought and eaten out of the garbage. Thence we went again to Munich. There I was obliged again to beg for money to make up the cloth, which, however, was not mine. A year later we returned to Ultn, with the intention of turning again toward home. I brought the cloth back with me, and begged again for the price of making. I distinctly remember that certain persons said to me: "Good heavens, is that coat not made yet? I guess you are playing us a trick." So we went away. I know not what became of the cloth, or whether the coat has been made or not. We came home, however, and went again to Munich. On the Sunday of our arrival the bacclianten found lodgings, but we three little schutzen were not so fortunate. Toward night we sought to go into the enclosure, that is to say the corn-market, in order to lie upon the sacks. Several women were sitting there near the salt-house, and asked where we were going. When they learned that we had no lodgings and that we were Swiss, one of them, a butcher woman, said to her maid : " Set the pot with what soup and meat is left over the fire. They must stop with me to-night, for I am fond of the Swiss. I once served at a tavern in Innsbruck, when the Emperor Maximilian was holding his court there. The Swiss had much to do with him at that time. They were so kind to me that I shall be fond of them so long as I live." She gave us enough to eat and to drink, and lodged us well. Next morning she said to us : " If one of you wishes to stay with me, I will give him his lodgings and his meat and drink." We were all willing, and asked which one she wanted ; and as she looked us over, I seemed to her a little livelier than the others. So she took me, and I had nothing to do but hand her her beer, bring hides and meat from the shambles, and now and then accompan)- her to the field ; but besides this I had to support my bacchant. That displeased the woman and she said to me: " Good heavens, let that bacchant go, and stick to me ! You do not need to beg. ' ' For a week I went neither to my bacchant nor to school. Then came my bacchant and knocked at the door of the butcher-woman's house. She said to me: "Your bacchant is there. Say that 30U are THOMAS PLATTER. 1 1 1 sick ;" and she let him in. She said to him : " You are a pretty gentleman, in truth ; and you want to see, do you, what Thomas is doing ? Well, he has been sick, and is so still." Then he said: " I am sorry, youngster. When you can go out again, come to me." Some time after I went one Sunday to vespers, and after vespers he said so me: "Here, you schiitze, you don't mean to come to me ! I will give you a good drubbing." I made up my mind, however, that he should not beat me any more, and I con- cluded to run away. On Monday I said to the butcher-woman : " I think I will go to school and then go and wash my shirt." I dared not say what I had in mind, for I feared that she might talk me out of it. I set out for Munich with heavy heart, partly because I was running away from my cousin, with whom I had travelled so far, but who was so harsh and merciless with me. Then too, I was sorry to leave the butcher- woman, who had been so kind toward me. I crossed the river Isar ; for I feared if I went toward Switzerland, that Paulus would follow me. He had often threatened me and others, that if any one should run away from him, he would pursue him, and when he caught him he would break every bone in his body. Across the Isar is a hill. There I sat down, gazed at the city and wept softly to myself, that I had no longer any one to take me up. My intention was to go toward Salzburg or toward Vienna in Austria. While I sat there a peasant came along with a wagon, carrying salt to Munich. He was already drunk, although the sun had only just risen. I begged of him to let me ride, and he let me go with him, until he unhitched to feed. While this was going on I begged in the village ; and not far beyond the village I waited for him and, while waiting, fell asleep. When I awoke, I wept bitterly, for I thought the peasant had gone along, and I grieved as though I had lost a father ; but soon he came along, now thoroughly befuddled. He told me to mount again and asked me where I wanted to go. I said, " To Salzburg ; " and when evening came he left the highway and said : "Jump down : there is the road to Salzburg." We had travelled eight miles during the day. I came to a village, and when 1 arose the next morning such a frost had fallen that it was like snow, and I had no shoes, only tattered stockings; no cap, only a jacket without folds. In this guise I went on to Passau, and from there it was my intention 112 SOURCE-BOOK OF THE GERMAN RENAISSANCE. to go to Vienna by the Danube. When I came to Passau they would not let me in. Then I determined to go to Switzerland, and asked the watchman at the city gate, which was the nearest way. He said, " By way of Munich ; " but when I replied ; "I do not wish to go by the way of Munich. I had rather make a circuit of ten miles or even further," he pointed out the way by Freisingen. There is a high school, and there I found Swiss, who asked me whence I came. But only two or three days passed before Paulus came with a halberd. The schutze said to me: "Your bacchant from Munich is here looking for you." Upon this I ran forth from the city gate, as though he were upon my heels, and made for Ulm. I went to my saddler's wife, who formerly had warmed my feet in the rug. She took me into her house, and let me tend the tur- nips in the field. This I did, and went no more to school. Some weeks later a certain one, who had been Paulus' comrade, came to me and said : " Your cousin Paulus is here and looking for you." He had followed me for eighteen miles, because he had indeed lost a good thing in me. I had supported him for years. When I heard this, although it was night, I ran out through the city gate toward Constance, but grieved to myself, for it hurt me sore that I must leave my dear mistress. When I was nearly at Mors- burg I ran across a stone-mason from Thurgau. We met a young peasant, and the stone-mason said to me : "We must get some money out of this peasant." To him he said: "Here, peasant, hand out your money, or the devil fly away with you ! " The peas- ant was frightened, and I was sore afraid, and wished I was some- where else. The peasant began to pull out his purse, but the stone-mason said : " That's all ! I was just joking with you." Thus I came across the lake to Constance. As I was crossing the bridge I saw some Swiss peasants in their white jackets, and, O Lord, how glad was I ! I thought I was in the kingdom of Heaven. I came to Zurich, and found there some big bacchaiiten from Wallis. I offered to beg for them on condition that they should teach me ; and they did so, as the others had done. At that time the Cardinal von Sitten was in Zurich, seeking to enroll citizens of Zurich to accompany him to the Pope's dominions ; but it had rather to do with Milan, as the sequel proved some months later. Paulus sent his schiitze, Hildebrand, from Munich, to tell me I should come back to him ; that he would forgive me. I did not care to do so, and remained in Zurich, but not at study. rrdA/ AA 000 907 995 5 CENTRAL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY University of California, San Die^o DATE DUE vMXz I MARVO 3 i379 \ \ \ \ \ \ \ Cl 39 UCSD Libr.