Chapter X: Part II: The Laws of Play—The First Law

_Borg._ In no place could you more rightly enunciate laws
than in the _forum_ and _curia_, so give them forth here!
For some other time there will be a more fitting occasion
of discoursing on the praise and admiration which our
city excites.

_Scin._ The first law treats of the time of recreation
(_quando ludendum_). Man is constituted for serious
affairs, not for frivolity and recreation. But we are
to resort to games for the refreshing of our minds from
serious pursuits. The time, therefore, for recreation
is when the mind or body has become wearied. Nor should
otherwise relaxation be taken, than as we take our
sleep, food, drink, and the other means of renewal
and recuperation. Otherwise it is deleterious, as is
everything which takes place unseasonably.

_The Second Law_

The second law deals with the persons with whom we are to
take our recreation (_cum quibus ludendum_). In the same
way as when you are about to take a journey, or to go to
a banquet, you look about diligently to see who are to
be your future boon companions or fellow travellers, so
in considering your recreation, you should reflect with
whom you will play, so that they may be men known to you.
For there is a great danger with the unknown, and it is
a true proverb of Plautus: “A fellow-man is a wolf to a
man who does not know what manner of associate he has
got.” Companions should be agreeable, festive, with whom
there is no danger of quarrelling or fighting, of either
doing or saying anything disgraceful or unbecoming! Let
them not be blasphemers of God, or users of oaths! Nor
should they be impure in speech, lest your morals should
be rubbed against by the contagion of what is depraved
or profligate. Lastly, they should bring to the game no
other purpose than your own, viz., the idea of thorough
rest from labour, and the freedom from mental strain.

_The Third Law_

The third law concerns the kind of recreation. First
it should be a well-known game, for there can be no
pleasure, if it is not known by player nor colleagues,
nor by the lookers-on. Further, it must at the same time
refresh the mind and exercise the body, if indeed the
season of the year and state of health are suitable. But
if not, it must be a game in which mere chance does not
count for everything. There must be some skill in it,
which may balance chance.

_The Fourth Law_

The fourth law is as to stakes. You ought not to play so
that the game is zestless, and quickly satiates you. So a
stake may be justifiable. But it should not be a big one,
which may disturb the mind in the very game itself, and
if one is beaten, may vex and torture you. That is not a
game; it is rather the rack.

_The Fifth Law_

The fifth law treats of the manner of play, viz., that
before you settle to play, you recall to mind that you
have come for the invigoration of your mind, and for this
object you may put a very small coin or two to stake,
so as to purchase with them the recuperation from your
weariness. Think that it is a chance, _i.e._, variable,
uncertain, unstable, common to all, and that no harm
will be done to you through it, if you lose. Thus, you
may have equanimity in your loss, so as not to contract
your countenance and experience sadness over it—nor
break forth into oaths and curses, either against your
fellow-player, or any of the spectators. If you win,
don’t be insolently loquacious to your fellow-player! Be
in all the game, his companion, cheerful, jovial, and
mirthful, this side of scurrility and petulancy, nor must
there be any trace of deceit, of sordidness or avarice.
Don’t be obstinate in contention and, least of all, make
use of oaths—when you remember that the whole thing,
even if you are in the right, is not so weighty that
you need call the name of God to witness. Remember that
the spectators are, as it were, the judges of the game.
If they make any pronouncement, then give in, and don’t
offer any sign of disapprobation. In this manner the game
will be both a delight and the noble education of an
honest youth will be pleasing to all.

_The Sixth Law_

The sixth law has reference to the length of time of
playing. Play until you feel the mind renewed and
restored for labour, and the hour for serious business
calls you. Who does otherwise seems to do ill. “May you
be willing to accept these laws; may you decree their
keeping, Romans!”[82]

_Borg._, _Caban._ “Even as he proposed” (_Sicuti
rogavit_).

XXIII

CORPUS HOMINIS EXTERIUS—_The Exterior of Man’s Body_

DURERIUS PICTOR (the Painter, Dürer), GRYNAEUS, VELIUS

This dialogue has two parts. The former is the Exordium.
The second part contains an examination of Dürer’s
painting. Albert Dürer was a remarkable German painter,
whose works are still extant. Simon Grynaeus was renowned
by his knowledge of literature, mathematics, and the
sacred writings. He taught at Basle, and was married
there. Caspar Ursinus Velius was a poet and distinguished
historian. He was tutor to the Emperor Maximilian II., as
Jovius writes in his _Elogia Doctorum Virorum_.

I. _Introduction (Exordium)_

_Dürer._ Go away from here, for you will buy nothing, as
I know full well, and you only remain in the way, and
this keeps buyers from coming nearer.

_Gryn._ Nay, we wish to buy, only we wish you to leave
the price to our judgment, and that you should state the
limit of time for payment, or, on the other hand, let us
settle the time, and you the amount of payment.

_Dürer._ A fine way of doing business! There is no need
for me to have nonsense of this sort!

_Gryn._ Whose portrait is this, and what price do you put
on it?

_Dürer._ It is the portrait of Scipio Africanus and I
price it at four hundred sesterces, or not much less.

II. _Criticism_

_Gryn._ I pray you, before you favour us with a single
word, let us examine the art of the picture. Velius here
is half a physicist, and very skilled in knowledge of the
human body.

_Dürer._ For some time I have perceived that I was in for
being worried by you. Now whilst there are no buyers at
hand, you may waste my time as you will.

_Gryn._ Do you call the practical knowledge of your art a
waste of time? What would you call that of another’s?

_Vel._ First of all you have covered the top of this
head with many and straight hairs when the top is called
_vertex_, as if a vortex, from the curling round of the
hair, as we see in rivers when the water rolls round and
round (_convolvit_).

_Dürer._ Stupidly spoken; you don’t reflect that it is
badly combed, following the custom of his age.

_Vel._ His forehead is unevenly bent.

_Dürer._ As a soldier he had received a wound at the
Trebia when he was saving his father.

_Gryn._ Where did you read that?

_Dürer._ In the lost decads of Livy.

_Vel._ The temples are too much swollen.

_Dürer._ Hollow temples would be the sign of madness!

_Vel._ I should like to be able to see the back part of
the head.

_Dürer._ Then turn the panel round.

_Gryn._ Why does Cato say amongst his other oracles:
“The forehead is before the back part of the head?”

_Dürer._ How stupid you are! Don’t you see in every man
the forehead in front of the back part of the head?

_Gryn._ There are some people whose backs I would rather
see than their faces!

_Dürer._ And I gladly, _e.g._, such buyers as you, and
soldiers!

_Vel._ Cato was of opinion that the presence of the
master was more effective for the oversight of his
affairs than his absence. For the rest, why has he such
long forelocks?

_Dürer._ Do you speak of these hairs over the forehead?

_Vel._ Yes.

_Dürer._ For many months he had no barber at hand as we
have in Spain.

_Vel._ Why have you covered with hair, the hairless part
(_glabella_)[83] against its etymology?

_Dürer._ Do you pluck out the hairs with pincers!

_Vel._ The hairs in the nose stand out from the nose. But
you, such is your ingenuity, will throw the fault from
yourself on to the barber.

_Dürer._ Ignorant that you are! Don’t you remember that
the customs of those times were harsh, horrible, boorish?

_Vel._ You, too, are ignorant. Have you not read that
Scipio was one of the most cultivated and polished of
all the men of his age, and a lover of what was elegant?

_Dürer._ This painting gives his likeness as he was, when
an exile, at Liternum.

_Gryn._ The eyebrows are large, and suitable for Latium;
the eyelids too hollow, and the cheeks too much sunk.

_Dürer._ Naturally, from the camp-watches.

_Gryn._ You are not only a painter, but a rhetorician,
well versed in turning off any criticism of your work.

_Dürer._ As far as I can see, you are well versed in
finding faults.

_Vel._ The picture has the cheeks and lips too much
puffed up.

_Dürer._ He is blowing the battle-trumpet.

_Gryn._ And you were blowing on a goblet when you painted
this.

_Vel._ On the contrary, he was blowing into a bag made of
skin. For elsewhere you have made him hairy, whilst you
have scarcely painted any eyelashes.

_Dürer._ They have fallen off by disease.

_Gryn._ What was the disease?

_Dürer._ Seek that from his physician!

_Gryn._ Don’t you understand now that you must take off
from your price one hundred sesterces for such lack of
skill?

_Dürer._ Nay, for your cavils and bothersome questions I
ought rather to add two hundred sesterces to the price.

_Vel._ You have made the pupils of the eyes grayish and I
have heard that Scipio’s were blue.

_Dürer._ And I have heard that his eyes were blue-gray
like those of Minerva Bellatrix.

_Vel._ You have made the corners of the eyes too fleshy
and the hollows too moist.

_Dürer._ He was weeping because accused by Cato.

_Vel._ The jaws are too long, and the beard very thick
and profuse. You would say the hairs are the bristles of
swine.

_Dürer._ You are beyond measure, chatterers and talkative
cavillers. Get away with you. I won’t let you have the
opportunity of further criticising the picture.

_Vel._ Please, my Dürer, since you have no other clients,
let us go on criticising here.

_Dürer._ What is the good to me?

_Vel._ We will each of us write a distich for you,
whereby the picture will be more easily sold.

_Dürer._ My art has no need of your commendation. For
skilled buyers who understand pictures, don’t buy verses,
but works of art.

_Vel._ But your Scipio has his nostrils too much dilated.

_Dürer._ He was in a state of wrath at his accusers.

_Vel._ We see no dimple in his chin.

_Dürer._ It is hidden in his beard. You also don’t see
his chin nor the double-chin!

_Gryn._ You have saved yourself the trouble of drawing
those for the sake of painting a big beard.

_Vel._ The straight and muscular neck pleases me, as also
the throat.

_Dürer._ Thank the Lord that you approve of something!

_Vel._ But so that I should not leave something to be
desired in this, I must also say the figure has not
sufficient hollow in the throat. When a physiognomist
noted this in Socrates, he pronounced it as a sign of
slowness of mind. I should wish those shoulders to be a
little more erect, and larger.

_Dürer._ He was not so much a fighting soldier as a
general. Have you not heard of his apophthegm on the
point? When certain soldiers were saying of him, that he
was not so valiant a soldier as he was a wise general,
he answered: “My mother bore me to be a general, not a
soldier.” But, depart, if you are not going to be buyers,
for I see some tax-farmers approaching.

_Vel._ Let us go for a walk, and let us talk on the
way to one another, concerning the human body without
considering Scipio, and this portrait. A flat nose does
not befit a noble countenance.

_Gryn._ What do you think of the noses of the Huns, then?

_Vel._ Away with such deformities!

_Gryn._ People with turned-up noses are not less
deformed. The Persians honoured eagle-nosed people on
account of Cyrus, who, they say, had such a shaped nose.

_Vel._ The fore-arm and bend of the arm (_ancon et
campe_) are to the arm what the ham of the knee and the
knee are to the leg; thence the upper arm (_lacertus_)
down to the hand, from the muscles of which also the legs
are called muscular (_lacertosa_).

_Gryn._ Is not this the ell (_cubitus_) as used by those
who are measuring?

_Vel._ Yes, and _ancon_ is another name for it.

_Gryn._ Is not that the way the Roman king came by his
name, Ancus?

_Vel._ It was by his curved elbow.

_Gryn._ The hand follows, the chief of all instruments.
The hand is divided into fingers, thumb, forefinger, the
middle or disreputable finger, the next to the smallest,
and the smallest.

_Vel._ Why has the middle finger a bad name? What crime
has it perpetrated?

_Gryn._ Our teacher said that he knew indeed the cause,
yet he was not willing to explain it, because it would
be unseemly. Don’t seek, therefore, to know, for it
does not become a well-brought-up youth to inquire into
disgraceful matters.

_Vel._ The Greeks named the finger next to the smallest,
δακτυλικόν, _i.e._ to say, the ring-finger.

_Gryn._ Clearly so, but on the left, not the right hand,
because on it, formerly, they were accustomed to wear
rings.

_Vel._ For what reason?

_Gryn._ They say that a vein stretches from the heart
to it. If the finger is encircled by a ring it is as if
the heart itself is crowned. The knots on the fingers
are called knuckles, and this word is used for a knock
of the fist. Between the knots are joints and these are
called by the general term, joints (_artus_) and knots
(_articuli_). It has been handed down to memory, that
Tiberius Caesar had such hard knots that he could bore
through a fresh apple with his fingers.

_Vel._ Have you learned chiromantia?

_Gryn._ I have only heard the name. What is it?

_Vel._ You would have been able to interpret the lines on
the hands by it.

_Gryn._ I have said I know nothing of it, and so it
is. But if now I were to profess to know something and
looked attentively on your hand, gladly you would listen
willingly to me, and to a man utterly unskilled in this
mode of imposture you would not altogether refuse your
confidence!

_Vel._ How so?

_Gryn._ Because it is the nature of man to listen gladly
to those who profess that they will announce secret
things or what is about to happen.

_Vel._ Why are the Scaevolae so called?

_Gryn._ As if _scaevae_; from _scaea_, which is the left
hand. They say that there are more of the female sex
left-handed than in our sex.

_Vel._ What is _vola_?

_Gryn._ The hollow of the hand in which the lines are.

_Vel._ What does _involare_ mean?

_Gryn._ That which you are doing. Gladly to steal, to
snatch and hide as if in the hollow of the hand, and as
the raving Lucretia did when she snatched at the eyes of
her serving-women.

[Then follows the Latin for the different parts of the
trunk of the body.]

_Vel._ Do you know the seat of the virtues in the body?

_Gryn._ No; where are they placed?

_Vel._ Modesty in the forehead; in the right hand
faithfulness; and sympathy in the knee.

_Gryn._ The sole of the foot is not itself the base of
the foot.

_Vel._ So many think.

_Gryn._ Pliny observes that there is a people who make
for themselves at mid-day a shadow with the sole of their
foot, so great and broad it is! How is it possible?

_Vel._ Clearly the sole in their case reaches from the
thigh-bone to the toes.

XXIV

EDUCATIO—_Education_

FLEXIBULUS, GRYMPHERANTES, GORGOPAS

The last two dialogues are παραινετικοὶ or ethical, in
the former of which he instructs the boy prince, in the
second any one in general.

Flexibulus is a name borrowed from Varro, who uses the
word _flexibula_ (pliant, flexible). Gorgopas is a name
derived from the idea of a stern countenance, such as
that of Gorgon is said to have been. Hence γοργωπὸς,
having the eyes or face of Gorgon. Eurip. in _Hercules
furens_. The precepts in this dialogue of Vives are
sacred and most wise. They should be known thoroughly
by all sons of princes, for without doubt they would
act much better in human affairs if they kept them in
view. There are three parts in this dialogue, Exordium,
Contentio, and Epilogus. The Exordium contains the
“occasion” and “final cause.”

I. _Introduction (Exordium)_

_Flex._ Wherefore did your father send you here to me?

_Grym._ He said that you were a man unusually well
instructed, wisely educated, and for that reason
well-pleasing to the state. He desired that I, walking in
your steps, might reach a like popularity.

_Flex._ How do you think that you will secure this?

_Grym._ Through the noble education which all say that
you have yourself. My father added that this education
would become me better than any other person.

II. _The Controversy_

_Flex._ Tell me, my boy, how you came to be instructed on
this matter by your father?

_Grym._ It was not so much my father who instructed me
by his precepts as my uncle, an old man, versed in many
things, and long in the counsels of kings.

_Flex._ What then did they teach you, my son and friend?

_Gorg._ Most wise man, look to it that by chance you
don’t slip through ignorance into some foolish word or
deed, or into something boorish, by which you would lose
that name of being educated in the best manner.

_Flex._ What! is that name so lightly lost by you?

_Gorg._ Even through single words, with the single
bending of the knee, with a single inclination of the
head.

_Flex._ Ah! you have matters too delicate and feeble with
you—but with us we have much more robust and vigorous
standards!

_Gorg._ Our judgments are like our bodies, which can put
up with no tripping.

_Flex._ On the contrary, as is easily seen, it is your
bodies, rather than your minds, which can bear labour.

_Gorg._ Perhaps you don’t know who it is whom you call
son and friend.

_Flex._ Are not these honourable names, and full of
benevolence?

_Gorg._ Full of benevolence, perhaps, which we don’t
count much of, but not of dignity and respect, which
we seek as being important. For this gentleman is
not accustomed to be called “friend.” And don’t you
understand that he has the prefix of “sir” (_domine_)
when he is addressed, and that he has a retinue of
varied-coloured liveried men? Have you not further
noticed that there were so many wax-tapers, so many
badges of honour, so many mourners at the parental
ceremonies of his grandfather’s funeral?

_Flex._ What then? Do you aim at being a lord over
everybody and to have no friends?

_Grym._ So my relations have taught me!

_Flex._ Then may your excellence, my lord (_mi domine_),
present some overwhelming proof of the right teaching of
your relatives!

_Gorg._ You seem to me to sneer at this boy. He is not a
common boy, so don’t treat him so!

_Family Teaching_

_Grym._ In the first place, they have taught me that I
am of most honourable lineage, which yields to none in
this province, and, on that account, I must take care
diligently, and strive earnestly, not to degenerate
from the rank of my ancestors; that they have won great
honour to themselves by yielding to no one in position,
dignity, authority, in name, and that I ought to do the
same. If any one should wish to detract from that honour,
immediately I must fight him. It behoves me to be lavish
with money, and even profuse, but sparing and frugal
in paying honour to others. That it behoves me, and
those like me, by no means to rise up in the presence of
others, nor to make way for them, nor to let them lead
me, hither and thither, nor to bare the head or bow the
knee to them; not as if any one could deserve to be shown
such honours from me, but that so I shall conciliate
to myself the favour of men, shall catch the breeze of
popularity, and shall obtain that honour which we always
so greatly have borne in men’s mouths and hearts! It is
in this education that the difference exists between
those who are nobles, and those who are not; since the
noble has been rightly accustomed to be educated to
excel in all these matters, whilst the common people
(_ignobiles_), trained to rustic manners, in none of
these things.

_Flex._ And what thinks your excellency, my lord, of such
a method of education?

_Grym._ What indeed! Why, it is by far the highest, and
worthy of my race.

_Flex._ What else then do you seek to learn from me?

_Grym._ In my opinion, nothing further would remain to be
learned, had not my father hurried me hither to you. My
father ordered me, or rather rigidly enjoined me, to come
to you; so that if there was anything of a more hidden
kind, and more sacred as if of mysteries, by which I
might get more honour for myself, then that you might, as
a favour to him, not feel it a burden to expound it, that
thus our family, so honourable and exalted, may ascend
still higher, since there are not a few new men who,
relying on their opulence, have come to light, and seized
upon dignities and honours so that they even dare to vie
with the old standing and honours of our race.

_Flex._ Shameful thing!

_Grym._ Is it not?

_Flex._ This would be visible to a blind man!

_Grym._ Certainly. These new men march about with a long
company of followers, themselves in gold-decked clothes
or clothes of flowered velvet, or clothes gay as those
of Attalus, so that we seem nothing before them, for we
are clothed in velvet to hide our poverty. If you will
undertake this labour, the reward for thy labour will be
that thou wilt be received by my father in the number of
our family, and wilt be admitted to his favour and mine,
and in process of time, wilt receive some promotion from
us. Thou wilt always be amongst our clients and, as it
were, under our protection.

_Flex._ What could be a greater reward or more to be
desired? But tell me now, if thou uncoverest the head or
givest way or addressest any one blandly, why art thou
pleasing to them with whom thou hast dealings?

_Grym._ Just because I meet them in this way.

_Flex._ All these externalities are only the signs
which denote that there is something in the heart, on
account of which they love you, for no one loves them for
themselves.

_Grym._ Why should not everybody love those things which
are of honourable bearing, especially in my grade of
nobility?

_Flex._ Thou hast not yet advanced to that degree that it
should be permitted to thee to say so, and thou thinkest
that thou hast arrived at the very highest.

_Grym._ I have no necessity to get knowledge and
education. My forefathers have left me enough to live
upon. And even if this were lacking, I should not seek my
living by those arts, or by any means so low, but with
the point of the lance and with drawn sword.

_Flex._ This is high-spirited and fierce, as if indeed
because you are of noble rank you would not be a man.

_Grym._ Fine words, those!

_Flex._ Which part of you is it that makes you a man!

_Grym._ Myself as a whole.

_Flex._ Is it by your body, in having which you don’t
differ from a beast?

_Grym._ By no means.

_Flex._ Not then yourself as a whole, but therefore by
your reason and your mind?

_Grym._ What then?

_Flex._ If, therefore, you permit your mind to be
uncultivated and boorish but cherish your body and
take thought for it alone, don’t you transfer yourself
from the human, into the brute, condition? But let us
return to the topic on which we began to speak, for this
digression, if I gave way to it, would lead us a long
way from our purpose. If thou, therefore, yieldest place,
and uncoverest thy head, for what do others take you?

_Grym._ For a noble, nobly instructed and brought up.

_Flex._ You are too uncouth. Did you hear nothing at
home about the mind, about honesty, about modesty, and
moderation?

_Grym._ In the church, sometimes, I have heard of these
things from preachers.

_Flex._ When those who meet you see what is done by you,
they judge that you are a modest, honest young man,
approving of your actions towards them, judging modestly
and thinking humbly of yourself. Thence the opinion of
benevolence and graciousness is formed of you.

_Grym._ Please be more explicit.

_Flex._ If people knew that you were so proud that you
looked down on them all with contempt, that you bared
your head and bent your knee to them, not because that
honour was due to them, but because it redounded to your
honour to do it, do you think there would be any one who
would take pleasure in you, or would love you for your
honours sprung from such false dissimulation?

_Grym._ For why?

_Flex._ Because you do honour to yourself, and take
pleasure in it—not to them. For who will consider himself
indebted to you for that which you do for your sake?
Or shall I receive your honour not for itself, but as
an outlay which thou offerest for a good opinion of
thyself, not as due to my merits?

_Grym._ So it seems.

_The Teaching of the Better View of Education—Right Government of Oneself_

_Flex._ Therefore, benevolence is won if people believe
that honour is paid to _them_, not that _thou_ shouldst
be held more courtly and noble. This will not happen,
unless they have the opinion of thee, that thou esteemest
them higher than thyself and holdest them worthy of thy
honour.

_Grym._ But this does not happen.

_Flex._ If it does not happen, then they must be deceived
on this point, or else thou wilt never obtain what thou
so keenly desirest.

_Grym._ By what way can you persuade me to think so?

_Flex._ Easily. Apply your mind carefully to what I say.

_Grym._ Go on, I beg. For I am sent on this very account
to you, and you shall always be amongst our _clientèle_.

_Flex._ Ah, that apple is too raw for me!

_Grym._ What do you whisper?

_Flex._ I say the only way will be for you _to be_ what
you wish to be thought to be.

_Grym._ How so?

_Flex._ If you wish to make anything warm, do you then
bring it to an imaginary fire?

_Grym._ No, but to a real fire.

_Flex._ If you wish to cleave anything in two, will you
use a picture of a sword depicted on tapestry?

_Grym._ No, an iron sword.

_Flex._ Is there not the same strength with real things
as with artificial ones?

_Grym._ Apparently there is a difference.

_Flex._ Nor wilt thou effect the same with a simulated
moderation as with real modesty, for falsity at some time
or other shows itself for what it is; truth is always the
same. In fictitious modesty you say something sometimes
or do something, publicly or privately, when you forget
yourself (for you are not able always and everywhere
to be on your guard), whereby you are caught in your
pretences. And as formerly men loved you, since they
did not yet know you, afterwards, and for a long time
afterwards, they hate you when they have got to know you.

_Grym._ How shall I note this modesty so as to be able to
appropriate it as thou teachest?

_Flex._ If thou wilt persuade thyself of what is actually
the case, that other people are better than thou art.

_Gorg._ Better indeed! Where are these people? I suppose
in Heaven, for on earth there are very few equal; better,
no one!

_Grym._ So I have heard often of my father and my uncle.

_Flex._ The circumstance that you do not understand the
significance of words leads you far from the knowledge
of truth. Tell us, what do you call good, so that we may
know if there is a better than thyself?

_Grym._ What do I know of the good? The good comes from
being the offspring of good parents.

_The Real “Good”_

_Flex._ This, therefore, is not yet known to thee, what
it is to be good, and yet you talk about what being
“better” means. How hast thou reached to the comparative,
when as yet thou hast not learned the positive? But how
dost thou know that thy forefathers were good? By what
mark canst thou make that clear?

_Grym._ What! do you deny that they were good?

_Flex._ I did not know them! How can I then assert
anything of their goodness either way? By what method of
reasoning canst thou prove that they were good?

_Grym._ Because every one says so of them; but why, I
beg, do you ask me all these vexatious questions?

_Flex._ These questions are not vexatious, but necessary,
so that thou canst understand what thou art inquiring
from me.

_Grym._ Confine your answer, I beg, to a few words.

_Flex._ Many words are necessary to explain that of which
you have so crass an ignorance. But since you are so
fastidious, I will speak more briefly than the matter,
in itself so great, demands to have said of it. Look at
me whilst I expound it. Who are the people who are to be
called learned? Are they not those who have learning? or
are they the rich? or those who have money?

_Grym._ Undoubtedly, those who have learning.

_Flex._ Who, then, are the good? Are they not those who
have what is good?

_Grym._ Clearly so.

_Flex._ Let us dismiss now the idea of riches, for they
are not in themselves really good. If they were, then
many people would be found to be better than your father.
Merchants and usurers would then surpass honest and wise
men in goodness.

_Grym._ Thus it seems, as you say.

_The Statement of the Problem (Propositio)_

_Flex._ Now, further, weigh what I am about to add in
points one by one. Is there not something good in a keen
intellect, a wise, mature judgment, whole and sound; in
a varied knowledge about all kinds of great and useful
affairs; in wisdom; and in carrying into practice these
qualities; in determination; in dexterity in pursuing
one’s business. What do you say of these things?

_Grym._ The very names of these qualities seem to me
beautiful and magnificent. So much more are the things
themselves great!

_Flex._ Well, then, what shall we say of wisdom, what
of religion, piety towards God, to one’s country,
parents, dependants, of justice, temperance, liberality,
magnanimity, equability of mind towards calamity in human
affairs, and brave minds in adversity?

_Grym._ These things also are most excellent.

_Flex._ These things alone are _the good_ for men. All
the remaining “goods” which can be mentioned are common
to the good and to the bad, and therefore are not true
“goods.” Observe this, please, well!

_Grym._ I will do so.

_Assumptio (Hypothesis)—Complexio (Conclusion)_

_Flex._ I wish thou wouldst, for thy disposition is
not bad, but is not well cultivated—as yet. Think now
well over this matter, whether thou possessest those
goods, and, if thou dost, how few thou hast, and in what
slender proportions! And if thou examine this question
acutely and subtly, then wilt thou eventually see that
thou art not yet adorned and provided with goods, great
and many, and that no one amongst the mass of people
is less provided with them than thyself. For among the
multitude are old people, who have seen and heard much,
and persons experienced in most things. Others there are,
devoting themselves to studies, who sharpen their wits
by learning, and become cultured men; others engage in
public affairs; others occupy themselves with authors,
who will give them the knowledge they want. Others are
industrious fathers of families. Others follow various
arts and excel in them. Even peasants themselves—how many
of the secrets of nature they possess! Sailors, too, know
of the course of day and night, the nature of winds,
the position of lands and seas. Some of the people are
holy and religious men, who serve the Deity with devotion
and worship Him. Others enjoy success with moderation
and bear adversity with bravery. What dost thou know of
these? What energy like theirs dost thou practise? In
what dost thou excel? In nothing at all except that “No
one is better than me: I am of a good stock.” How canst
thou be better, when as yet thou art not _good_? Neither
thy father nor thy relations or ancestors have been good,
unless they had these things which I have recounted. If
they had them, you can tell. But I doubt it much. You
certainly will not be good, unless you become like those
I have described.

_Grym._ You have quite given me a shock, and made me
ashamed. I cannot find anything to even mutter in reply!

_Gorg._ I have understood none of these things. You have
cast darkness before my eyes.

_Flex._ Naturally. For you came to these considerations
too uncouth, too long infected and enslaved in contrary
opinions. But you are a young man. How do you think you
are going to be classed? as a master (_dominus_) or as a
slave?

_Grym._ As a slave. For if it is as you have expounded,
and I know nothing which seems truer than what you say,
there are very many much greater and more distinguished
than I am, who are slaves.

_Flex._ Don’t be lightly disgusted at what I have said.
Betake yourself home. Alone, think over what I have
said. Examine my statements, ponder over them. The more
you turn them over in mind, the more you will recognise
they are true and certain.

_Grym._ I beseech you proceed, if you yet have further to
add, for I feel that at this moment I am a changed man.
For the future I shall seem to be another person from my
former self.

_Flex._ Would that it may happen to thee as it did to the
philosopher Polaemon!

_Grym._ What happened to him?[84]

_Flex._ Owing to a single oration of Xenocrates, from
being one of the worst and most incorrigible, he turned
out most studious of wisdom and the seeker of every
virtue, and was the successor of Xenocrates in the
Academy. But thou, my son, now openly hast recognised to
how great a degree is lacking in thee the goodness, which
others have in an overflowing measure. Now truly, and of
thine own good will, thou yieldest place to others and
honourest the good in them where thou seest them well
furnished, and where thou seest thyself to be deficient.
And if thou thus humblest thyself, and seemest to be of
slight attainments, thou wilt meet no one for whom thou
feelest abject contempt, and whom thy conscience in thy
heart does not place before thyself. For thou wilt not
be led away to believe any one to be worse than thyself,
unless his badness and malice manifest themselves
openly, whilst thine own evil carefully skulks within and
is ashamed.

_Grym._ And what follows?

III. _Epilogue_

_Flex._ If thou doest these things, then wilt thou
get the real, solid, noble education itself, and true
urbanity; and if, as we are supposing now, thou followest
after a courtly life, thou wilt be pleasing to all and
dear to all. But even this thou wilt not set at high
value, but what will then be the sole care to thee will
be, to be acceptable to the Eternal God.

XXV

PRAECEPTA EDUCATIONIS—_The Precepts of Education_

BUDAEUS, GRYMPHERANTES

There are three parts to this dialogue: Exordium,
Narratio, and Epilogus.

I. _Introductory (Exordium)_

_Bud._ What is this so great and so sudden a change in
you? It might be included in Ovid’s _Metamorphoses_.

_Grym._ Is it a change for the better or the worse?

_Bud._ For the better, in my opinion, at least, if one
may argue and estimate as to the goodness of a mind from
outward countenance, bearing, words, and actions.

_Grym._ Can you then, my most delightful friend,
congratulate me?

_Bud._ I do indeed congratulate you and exhort you to go
on, and I pray God and all the saints, that you may have
just increase day by day of such fruitfulness. But please
don’t grudge so dear a friend as I am, to impart the art
so distinguished and glorious, which could in so short a
time infuse so much virtue in a man’s heart.

II. _The Exposition (Narratio)_

_Grym._ The art and the fountain of this stream is that
very man who is so fruitful in goodness—Flexibulus, if
you know him.

_Bud._ Who does not know the man? He, as I have heard
from my father and my cousins, is a man of great wisdom
and experience of things, not only known to this city,
but also generally beloved and honoured as only few
are. Oh, fortunate that you are! to have heard him more
closely and to have conversed with him familiarly, and
thereby to have gained so great a fruit in the forming of
manliness!

_Grym._ By so much the happier art thou, to have had all
this born with you in your home, as they tell me, and to
be able, not once and again as I, but every day, as often
as you pleased, to listen to such a father, holding forth
wisely on the greatest and most useful topics.

_Bud._ Stop this, please, and let the conversation
proceed, with which we started, about thee and Flexibulus.

_Grym._ Let us then be silent with regard to your father
since this is your desire: let us return to Flexibulus;
nothing is sweeter to me than his discourse, nothing
more sagacious than his counsels, nothing more weighty
than his precepts, or more holy. So by this foretaste
of himself which he has provided me, the thirst has
been stimulated and increased in a wonderful degree, to
draw further from that sweet fountain of wisdom. Those
who describe the earth tell us that the streams are of
wonderful formation and nature; some inebriate, others
take away drunkenness; some send stupor, others sleep. I
have experienced that this fountain has the property of
making a man of a brute, a useful person of a wastrel,
and of a man an angel.

_Bud._ Might I not be able also to draw something from
this fountain, though it be with the tip of my lips?

_Grym._ Why shouldst thou not? I will show you the house
where he dwells.

_Bud._ Another time! But do thou, whilst we are walking
along (or let us sit down, if you like), tell me
something of his precepts, those which thou considerest
to be his best and most potent.

_The Precepts_

_Grym._ I will gladly recall them to memory as far as I
am able if it will give you pleasure and be of use. First
of all he taught me that no one ought to think highly
of himself, but moderately or, more truly, humbly; that
this was the solid and special foundation of the best
education, and truly of society. Hence to exercise all
diligence to cultivate the mind, and to adorn it with
the knowledge of things by the knowledge and exercise of
virtue. Otherwise, that a man is not a man but as cattle.
That one should be interested in sacred matters and
regard them with the greatest attention and reverence.
Whatsoever on those matters you either hear, or see, to
regard it as great, wonder-moving, and as things which
surpass your power of comprehension. That you should
frequently commend yourself to Christ in prayers, have
your hope and all your trust placed in Him. That you
should show yourself obedient to parents, serve them,
minister to them and, as each one has power, be good
and useful to them. That we should honour and love the
teacher even as the parent, not of our body but (what is
greater) of our mind. That we should revere the priests
of the Lord, and show ourselves attentive to their
teaching, since they are to us in place of the Apostles
and even of the Lord Himself. That we should stand up
before the old, uncovering our heads, and attentively
listen to them, from whom, through their long experience
of life, wisdom may be gathered. That we should honour
magistrates, and that when they order anything we should
listen to what they say—since God has committed us to
their care. That we should look for, admire, honour,
and wish all good to, men of great ability, of great
learning, and to honest men, and seek the friendship
and intimacy of those from whom so great fruits can be
obtained, and that we attend to it especially that we
turn out like them. And in the last place, that reverence
is due to those who are in places of dignity, and
therefore it should be given freely and gladly. What do
you say as to these precepts?

_Bud._ So far as I can form a judgment regarding them,
they are taken out from some rich storehouse of wisdom.
But tell me if many people do not come to honour, who
don’t deserve it, _e.g._, priests who don’t act in
accordance with so great a title, depraved magistrates,
and foolish and delirious old men? What is the opinion of
Flexibulus of these? Are they to be honoured as greatly
as the more capable men?

_Grym._ Flexibulus knew very well that there are many
such, but he did not allow that those of my age could
judge in matters of this kind. We had not yet obtained
such insight and wisdom, that we could judge with regard
to them. That forming of opinion in these matters must
be left over to wise men, and to those who are placed in
authority over us.

_Bud._ Therein he was right, as it seems to me.

_Grym._ He used to add: that a youth ought not to be
slow in baring his head, in bending his knee, nor in
calling any one by his most honoured titles, nor remiss
in pleasant and modest discourse. Nor does it become him
to speak much amongst his elders or superiors. For it
would not otherwise agree with the reverence due from
him. Silent himself, he should listen to them, and drink
in wisdom from them, knowledge of varied kinds, and a
correct and ready method of speaking. The shortest way
to knowledge is diligence in listening. It is the part
of a prudent and thoughtful man to form right judgments
about things, and in every instance of that about which
he clearly knows. Therefore a youth ought not to be
tolerated, who speaks hastily and judges hastily, nor
one who is inclined to asserting and deciding hastily;
that he ought to be reluctant to argue and judge on even
small and slight questions of any kind, or, at any rate,
rather timid, _i.e._, conscious of his own ignorance. But
if this is true in slight matters, what shall we say of
literature, of the branches of knowledge? of the laws of
the country, of rites, of the customs and institutions
of our ancestors? Concerning these, Flexibulus said, it
was not permissible in the youth to urge an opinion or
to dispute or to call in question; not to cavil, nor to
demand the grounds, but quietly and modestly, to obey
them. He supported his opinion by the authority of Plato,
a man of great wisdom.

_Bud._ But if the laws are depraved in their morality,
unjust, tyrannical?

_Grym._ As to this Flexibulus expressed himself as he
had done with regard to old men. “I know full well,”
said he, “there are many customs in the state which are
not suitable, that whilst some laws are sacred, some
are unjust, but you are unskilled, inexperienced in the
affairs of life, how should you form an opinion? Not as
yet have you reached that stage in erudition, in the
experience of things, that you should be able to decide.
Perchance, such is your ignorance or licence of mind, you
would judge those laws to be unjust which are established
most righteously and with great wisdom. But who could
render manifest those laws which should be abrogated
without inquiring, discussing, and deciding on points
one by one? For this, you are not yet capable.”

_Bud._ That is clearly so. Go on to other points.

III. _Epilogue_

_Grym._ No ornament is more becoming or pleasing in the
youth than modesty. Nothing is more offensive and hateful
than impudence. There is great danger to our age from
anger. By it we are snatched to disgraceful actions, of
which afterwards we are most keenly ashamed. And so we
must struggle eagerly against it, until it is entirely
overcome, lest it overcome us. The leisurely man, badly
occupied, is a stone, a beast; a well-occupied man is in
truth a man. Men, by doing nothing, learn to do evil.
Food and drink must be measured by the natural desire of
hunger and thirst, not by gluttony, and not by brute-lust
of stuffing the body. What can be more loathsome to be
said than that a man wages war on his own body by eating
and drinking, which strip him of his humanity, and hand
him over to the beasts, or make him even as it were a log
of wood. The expression of the face and the whole body
show in what manner the mind within is trained. But from
the whole exterior appearance, no mirror of the mind is
more certain than the eyes, and so it is fitting that
they should be sedate and quiet, not elated nor dejected,
neither mobile nor stiff, and that the face itself
should not be drawn into severity or ferocity, but into
a cheerful and affable cast. Sordidness and obscenity
should be far absent from clothing, nurture, intercourse,
and speech. Our speech should be neither arrogant nor
marked by fear, nor (would he have it by turns) abject
and effeminate, but simple and by no means captious;
not twisted to misleading interpretations, for if that
happens, nothing can be safely spoken, and a noble nature
in a man is broken, if his speech is met by foolish and
inane cavils. When we are speaking, the hands should not
be tossed about, nor the head shaken, nor the side bent,
nor the forehead wrinkled, nor the face distorted, nor
the feet shuffling. Nothing is viler than lying, nor is
anything so abhorrent. Intemperance makes us beasts;
lying makes us devils; the truth makes us demigods. Truth
is born of God; lying of the Devil, and nothing is so
harmful for the communion of life. Much more ought the
liar to be shut out from the concourse of men than he who
has committed theft, or he who has beaten another, or he
who has debased the coinage. For what intercourse in the
affairs or business of life or what trustful conversation
can there be with the man, who speaks otherwise than
as he thinks? With other kinds of vices, this may be
possible; but not with lying. Concerning companions and
friendship of youths he said much and to the purpose,
that this was not a matter of slight moment to the
honesty or else the shame of our age, that the manners
of our friends and companions are communicated to us as
if by contagion, and we become almost such as those are,
with whom we have intimate dealings; and therefore in
that matter, there should be exercised great diligence
and care. Nor did he permit us to seek friendships and
intimacies ourselves, but that they should be chosen by
parents or teachers or educators, and he taught that
we should accept them, and honour them as they were
recommended. For parents, in choosing for us, are guided
by reason, whilst we may be seized by some bad desire or
lust of the mind. But if, by any chance, we should find
ourselves in useless or harmful circumstances, then it
behoves us as soon as possible to seek advice from our
superiors, and to lay our cares before them. He said,
from time to time, indeed, very many other weighty and
admirable things, and these things also he explained with
considerable fullness and exactness. But these points
which I have already stated were, on the whole, the most
important on the subject of the right education of youth.

BREDA, IN BRABANT; _the Day of the Visitation of the Holy
Virgin_, 1538.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] From the same _Institution of a Christian Woman_ (Richard Hyrde’s translation).

[2] J. L. Vives: _Ausgeswählte pädagogische Schriften_. Leipzig.

[3] _De Causis Corruptarum Artium_, book ii.

[4] The _De Disciplinis_ consists of two parts—1. _De Causis Corruptarum Artium_, in seven books; 2. _De Tradendis Disciplinis_ in five books.

[5] _Dissertation on Romance and Minstrelsy_, by Joseph Ritson, 1891.

[6] Bömer, _Die Lateinischen Schülergespräche der Humanisten_ (1899), p. 182.

[7] Vives deals with this question in his _De Tradendis Disciplinis_, and it is highly probable that Mulcaster had read that book before he treated on the subject of conferences of parents and teachers. (_Positions_, p. 284).

[8] It should be remembered, in connection with these dates, that Queen Mary was eleven years older than Philip. Mary was Philip’s second wife; his first wife was Mary of Portugal, whom he married in 1543. She died in 1546.

[9] _See_ p. 174.

[10] This edition is not mentioned by Bömer.

[11] _See_ p. xxvi.

[12] _See_ p. 196–196.

[13] p. 21.

[14] p. 18.

[15] p. 65.

[16] In the eighteenth century, the Nonconformist academies, which are of the first significance as educational institutions, probably, in many cases, already associated the stages of elementary, secondary, and university education in one institution.

[17] The grammar school was called in Latin _Ludus literarius_.

[18] _E.g._, John Northbrooke: _Treatise wherein Dicing, etc., ... are reproved ... Dialogue-wise_, 1579 (Reprinted by the Shakespeare Society); Gilbert Walker: _A Manifest Detection of the most Vyle and Detestable Use of Dice-play_, 1552 (Reprinted by the Percy Society); and by educational writers, _e.g._, Roger Ascham: _Toxophilus_ (1545), and Laurence Humphrey: _The Nobles_ (1560). William Horman, headmaster of Eton College School, in his _Vulgaria_ (in 1519) holds the opinion: “It is a shame that young gentlemen should lose time at the dice and tables, cards and hazard.”

[19] As to charts, _e.g._, Sir Thomas Elyot, in the _Gouvernour_ (1531), says: “I cannot tell what more pleasure should happen to a gentle wit than to behold in his own house (_i.e._, in pictures and maps) everything that within all the world is contained.”

[20] _See_ p. 95.

[21] Dialogue IX.

[22] Dialogue VIII.

[23] Which J. T. Freigius duly notes is taken from Ovid: _Metamorphoses_, liber vi., and Vergil: _Eclogues_, vi.

[24] Vives gives an example in Pandulphus (Dialogue IX.).

[25] _De Tradendis Disciplinis_, book iii. chap. 3.

[26] _De Tradendis Disciplinis_, book iii. chap. 3.

[27] _De Tradendis Disciplinis_, book i. chap. 2.

[28] _Mémoire sur la vie et les écrits de J. L. Vives_, p. 87.

[29] _Die lateinischen Schülergespräche der Humanisten_, pp. 163–163.

[30] Pasce animos nostros Christe caritate tua, qui benignitate tua alis vitas animantium: sancta sint, Domine, haec tua munera nobis sumentibus, ut tu, qui ea largiris, sanctus es. Amen.

[31] In John Conybeare’s _Collection of Proverbs_ (1580–1580) the following rendering is given: “One knave will kepe another companye, one pratteler wille with another, like will to like.” _Letters and Exercises of John Conybeare_, p. 42. London: Henry Frowde, 1905.

[32] _Audire male._ To have an evil reputation. Lewis and Short aptly quote from Milton’s _Areopagitica_: “For which England hears ill abroad.”

[33] On a tombstone. Dr. Bröring quotes from Guicciardini, _Belgicae Descriptio_, 1635, where an account is given of the tombstone to a daughter of the Countess Mathilde of Holland in a Cloister near the Hague.

[34] _Amphora_ is a measure for liquids. It was equal to six gallons seven pints. The _congius_, in the _Tri-congius_, was a measure of one-eighth of an _amphora_.

[35] _I.e._ of the nature of bugs.

[36] _Decoxisse_ from _decoquere_—which means both to cook and to become bankrupt.

[37] Dr. Bröring quotes from Erasmus’s _Adages_, Chil. I. Cent. viii. Prov. 86, to show that formerly men of obscure birth were termed _terrae filii_.

[38] _Capitulum lepidissimum_—a term of endearment used by Terence.

[39] Freigius notes that Jubellius Taurea was by far the strongest horse of the Campanians, whilst Claudius Asellus was a horseman of equally renowned horsemanship. The steed challenged the rider to a contest. _See_ Livy, Bk. 3, Decad. 3.

[40] Of the town of Tours, in France.

[41] It is explained by Vives, as a note in the margin, that Curio is the priest of the parish, commonly called curate.

[42] As Dr. Bröring remarks, “German” is used in the sense of “brethren.”

[43] With dust in winter and mud in spring, you will reap great grain, Camillus. Macrobius, _Satur._ v. 20; cf. Vergil, _Georgics_, i. 101.

[44] Happy is the man in his heart, and approaching to the happiness of the gods themselves, whom glory does not agitate, dazzling with its lying gloss, nor the evil allurements of haughty luxury, but who lets the days pass peacefully by and silently, and with the labour of the poor man wins the peace of the blameless life.

[45] _I.e._, shop packing-paper.

[46] But dispatch now, don’t put off to future hours. Who does not do a thing to-day may be less able to do it to-morrow.

[47] Let words run, the hand is quicker than they; not as yet has the tongue done its work until the right hand has accomplished its task.

[48] Is this always the order of the day, then? Here is full morning coming through the window-shutters, and making the narrow crevices look larger with the light; yet we go on snoring, enough to carry off the fumes of that unmanageable Falernian.—(Conington’s Translation.)

[49] Arise, already the baker sells breakfast to boys. On every side, already, the birds announce the dawn by their chirping.

[50]

“Such days, I trow, at the infancy of earth,
Shone forth, and kept the tenor of their birth;
True spring was that, the world was bent on spring,
And eastern breezes check’d their wintry wing:
While cattle drank new light, and man was shown,
A race of iron from a land of stone;
Then savage beasts were launch’d upon the grove,
And constellations on the heaven above;
Nor could young Nature have achieved the birth,
Unless a period of repose so sweet
Had come to pass, betwixt the cold and heat,
And heaven’s indulgence greeted the new earth.”

R. D. Blackmore’s Translation.

[51] As did Columella, _i.e._, _pruna cereola_. Pliny calls them _cerina_.

[52] Freigius’s note: _Insularius_ is equivalent to French _concierge_.

[53] Livy, book i.

[54] Book v. cap. 4, de Cimone; Ovid, _Fasti_, book ii.

[55] _I.e._, the beggar in the house of Ulysses at Ithaca. See Martial, 5, 41, 9.

[56] _Georgics_, i. 392. The oil (of lamps is seen) to sparkle and crumbling fungus to form.

[57] Sleep, the rest of things, sleep, most gracious of the gods, peace of the mind, whom anxiety shuns, thou who soothest the weary bodies from their hard duties and restorest them for their labour.

[58] This is a mark of refinement and seemly in one who is cultured—not to be ignorant of the names of the utensils that are in daily use in the house.

[59] _Athen._ 12. That he was the first to set the Romans the example of luxury in all things.

[60] That Apicius exceeded all men in prodigality.

[61] Cooking vessel with feet for coals.

[62] I am not willing to be Caesar, to march through the Britons and to suffer Scythian frosts.

[63] So says Aelius Spartianus in _Life of Hadrian Florus_ as quoted by Freigius. See _Crinitus_, book 15, cap. 5.

[64] How often the cook seeks pepper and wine for the breakfasts of the Fabii to smack of the simple beet.

[65] And heavily used to hang on his arm a bowl with a worn-out handle.

[66] Tell me why does the lettuce, which used to finish off the meals of our ancestors, now begin _our_ meals?

[67] When I, the Lucanian sausage, come, daughter of the swine of Picenum, then will the crown be given gladly to the snowy pottage.

[68] As he passed by one day, Diogenes, who was washing vegetables, scoffed at him and said: “If you had learnt to live on these, you would not frequent the courts of kings;” and he said: “If you knew how to associate with your fellow men, you would not be washing vegetables.”

[69] _See_ Cicero, _De Oratore_, iii. (near the end); Quintilian, i. 10; Gellius, _Noctes Atticae_, i. 11.

[70] _Graculus_ is a jackdaw. Aesop has a story of the jackdaw with borrowed plumes. Juvenal iii. 78 refers to the _Graeculus_, the Roman attempting to play the Greek.

[71] A red colouring matter.

[72] On what has been set and is set before us, may Christ deign to give his blessing.

[73] Even with three guests, each seems to me to have a different taste, each requiring quite different foods with his quite different palate. HORACE, _Epistles_, ii. 2, 61, 62.

[74] _Georgics_, i. 57.

[75] We should give little to pleasure, as its due; but all the more to health. CATO, _Disticha de Moribus_, ii. 28.

[76] _See_ Varro, _De re rustica_, III. vi. 6.

[77] We render thanks to Thee, Father, who has provided so many things for the enjoyment of men: Grant that, by Thy good-will, we may come to the feast of Thy Blessedness.

[78] For getting well from the bite of dog at night, take from the dog’s hair your remedy.

[79] Boys play, and play, also, youth and age. Play is the wit, seriousness, and wisdom of old age. Also human life, what is it but trifling and empty fable, when virtue is not its sole guiding principle?

[80] Viz., _The Antiochian; or, The Beard-hater_.

[81] _I.e._, the small town of the Parisians.

[82] Vives uses the Roman formula for the passing of laws: “_Velitis, Quirites, jubeatis._” The response of acceptance being: “_Uti rogas._”

[83] Dr. Bröring renders _glabella_, “the space between the eyebrows.” _Glabellus_ is derived from _glaber_, the root of which is γλαφ—cf. _scalpo_, to hollow out—_i.e._, smooth, without hair (Lewis and Short).

[84] _See_ _Valerius Maximus_, book vi. chap. vi.

INDEX

[_Large Roman numerals refer to the number of the
Dialogue; small Roman numerals refer to the pages of the
Introduction; Arabic numerals refer to the pages of the
text._]

A B C tablet, 18

Academy, the, xxxix.

Agonotheta, 106

Alarum-clock, 116

Anneus, a teacher, xliii., 204

Apparel, court, 163

Architriclinus (feast-master), 30

Aristotle, 36, 47, 102, 147

Ascham, Roger, xli.

Atlantides, 98

Bacchus, 151, 156

Baldus, 106

Banquet, 126, 132

“Baptising” wine, 139

Bardus, 107

Bartolus, 106

Batalarii, 102, 103, 106

Beer, 92, 141

Beggar, 43

Bird, the teacher, 89

Birds, different kinds of, 144

Blacksmith, 82

Boatmen, the scum of the sea, 59

Boccaccio, 96

Bömer, Dr., xxii.

Book-gluer, 114

Books, 179

Boorish youth, 52

Boulogne, 56

Bread, different kinds of, 134

Breakfast, 8, 27

Bruges, 33, 34

Budaeus (William Budé), vii.

Buffoons, 170

Busts of authors in library, 105

Candles, 110

Card-playing, XXI.

Catharine of Aragon, xv., xvi., xxviii., 96

_Catholicon, The_, 105

Cato’s distichs quoted, 137

Caryatides, 98

Cervent, Clara, mother of Vives’ wife, xi.

Chancellor, the, 167

Characteristics of the _Dialogues_, xxxvii.

Charts or maps, 186

Cheese, 12, 145

Cherries, buying of, 17;
cherry-stones as stakes, 23

Child, and rattle, 53

Chrysostom, homilies of, 151

_Chytropus_, 120

Cicero, 113;
_Tusculanae Questiones_, 42, 114

Circe, cup of, 170

Clock, 81; mechanical, 82

Clothes, 84 _sqq._

Comb, 4;
ivory, 85

Constable, the, 165

“Cooking” accounts, 50

Cook-shop, 118

Copies, writing, 74

Copper-knobs on books, 113

Counsellors of the king, 166

Courtiers of the king, 167

Cuckoo, the, 46

Cups, 31, 51, 128

Dauphin, the, 165

Dead men can speak, 178

Deafness, 42

de Croy, Cardinal, Vives’ pupil, xii.

Dedication of Vives’ _School Dialogues_, xxi.

Delights of Sight, 88;
of Hearing, 89;
of Smell, 89;
of Taste, 89;
of Touch, 90

Demosthenes, 113

Dialectic, 102

Dice-player, Curius the, 44

Dignitaries of the court, 165

Dilia, river, 83

Dining-room, 96, 128

Diogenes, 125, 136

Discovery of the New World, 95

Disease of thirst, 161

Disputing, 20

Dog, 7, 15, 41, 44

Door-angels, 94

Drama, and the _Dialogues_, xxxvii.

Drawing lots, 189

Dressing, 2 _sqq._

Drinking, 27, 28, 30, 45;
water, 28, 42;
wine, 28, 42;
beer, 31

Drivers, the scum of the earth, 59

Drunkenness, xlvi., XVIII.;
effects of, 160

Dullard, John, xi.

Dürer, Albrecht, 210

Dury, John, and the Academy, xl.

Earth, the, a fruitful mother, 53

Eating, 27

Education, XXIV.;
noble, 233

Elegance of clothes as well as words, 47

Elyot, Sir Thomas, xxxv., xli.

Erasmus, vii., xi.

_Exercitatio_, the Latin title for the _Dialogues_, vii.

Fish, different kinds of, 143

“Flat” wine, 139

Flea, 83, 115

Fleming, 33;
without a knife, 33

Florus quoted, 122

Foods, 37, VII., 92, XV.

Freigius, J. T., editor of _Dialogues_, xxxiv., li.

Frenchmen, 104

Friendships arranged for children by parents, 242

Fruits, 135 _sqq._

Games, xli.;
ball, 2;
dice-playing, 2, 13, 23;
nuts, 22;
odd and even, 22;
draughts, 24;
playing-cards, 24;
tennis, 202

Genders, number of, 35

German, 120

Geometry, 16

Getting up, 1

Godelina of Flanders, 96

Goldfinch, 127

Good, the real, 228 _sqq._

Governing, art of, 177

Grace before meat, 33, 131;
after meat, 38, 148

Grammar, 2, 35, 102

Grammarians, asses, 119, 120

Greek in the _Dialogues_, xxxv.

Greetings, morning, 6

Griselda, 96

Guest, school-boy, 32

Helen, 97

Holiday from school, 56

Holocolax, 165

Home and school life, xxiii.

Homer, 97

Horace quoted, 53, 135

Horses, and their trappings, IX.

Host, a kindly, 153

Hour-bells, 40

Hours of teaching, 103

House, the new, 93;
keeper, 32

Housteville, Aegidius de, xxxvi.

Hugutio, 105

Hunter, Mannius the, 44

Ink, 72

Inscriptions in houses, 97

Intemperance, 241

Isocrates quoted, 177

Joannius, Honoratus, learned man of Valencia, 205

Joviality, the gate of drunkenness, 161

Jugglers, 170

Keeper of Archives, the, 167

King, the, 165;
the palace of the, 163

Kitchen, the, XV., 31;
maid, 31

Ladies’ quarters in the court, 169

Lapinius, Euphrosynus, xxxvi.

Latin speaking, xxx., 34

Laws of play, xliii., 206–9

Lebrija (or Nebrissensis), Antonio de, x., 65

Lecture-room, 65

Letter-carrier, 51, 70

Letters, 18, 21

Library, school, 105

Licentiates, 103

Lie-telling, 13

Life, a journey, 179

Literature out of the class-room, 188

Litigants of the king’s court, 167

Livy, lost decads, 211

Logic, 2

Louvain, inhabitants of (Lovanians), 47

Lover, the, 48

Lucretia, picture of, 95

_Ludus literarius_, a playing with letters, the Latin for a school, 19

Lunch, 27

Lutetia (Paris), 199

Lying, 241

Lyons, 116

Magistrates, honour due to, 237

Maid-servants, I., VI., VII., 52, 83

Manners, at table, 37

Maps, xlii.

March, family name of Vives’ mother, vii.

Market, the, at Valencia, 205

Martial quoted, 45, 79, 81, 122, 123

Master of the feast, the king’s, 168

Master of the horse, 165

Market, 36

Meals, 24

Meats, 137

Mena, Juan de, quoted, xlv., 88

Merchant, the, 49

Miller, the, 134

Milton, John, xxvii., xl.

Mimus quoted, 156

Modesty, real and fictitious, 227

Monastery, Carthusian, 87;
Franciscan, 87

Moor, a white, 23

Morning best for learning, 92

Mortar, 122

Mosquito-net, 115

Motta, Peter, xxxv., xxxvi.

Mountebank, 3

Mulcaster, Richard, xxiv., xli.

Muses, number of the, 136

Music of birds, 89

Mysteries, study of, by nobles, 222

Names of Vives’ friends in the _Dialogues_, xxxiii.

Napkin, 32, 130, 131

Nature, in the _Dialogues_, xliv.

Nazianzenus, 113

Neapolitan horse, 176

Nebrissensis, Antonius, _see_ Lebrija

Nightingale, the, 45, 88–88

Night-studies, 110, 111, 112

Noah, 157

Nobility, ignorance of writing, 67;
contempt of knowledge, 69

Nobles and education, XXIV.

Nut-shells, used by boys for ants’ houses, 22

Obedience to the laws, 239

Occupation of courtiers, 170

Old men, 180, 228

One-eyed carpenter, 52

Opinions of Vives held by Budé, Erasmus, xii.;
and Sir Thomas More, xiii.

Oppugnator, 107

Orbilius, the schoolmaster, 91

Ovid quoted, 78, 116, 234

Painting, XXIII.

Palimpsist, 71

Pantry, 36

Paper, 73

Papias, 105

Paris, 116;
University of, 199

Parts of the body, XXIII.

Pastry-cook, 147

Paul, the Apostle, 96

Pauline precept, 141

Persians, 136, 215

Persius quoted, 80

Pestle, 122

Philip, Prince, xxii., xxvii., xxviii., XX.;
“the darling of Spain,” 176

Philosophers, 46

Physicians and wine, 140

Pictures, 95

_Pietas literata_, ideal of, xlviii.

Piety, 145

Plato, 36, 105;
authority of, 239

Plautus quoted, 152, 207

Play of being king, 175

Playing with dog, 7

Pliny, 20, 40, 46, 88, 149

Points, 2, 23

Polaemon, 232

Popularity-hunting, 222

Pottage, 142

Prayer, 5;
the Lord’s, 5;
morning, 1, 83, 87;
to the saints, 234;
to Christ, 237

Preachers in churches, 225

Precepts of education, l., XXV.

Priests and literature, 173

Principal (_gymnasiarcha_), 43

Propugnator, 107

Pythagoras, 116

Quills, 70;
quill-sheath, 70;
goose-quills, 71;
hen’s quills, 71;
making of quill-pens, 71

Quintilian quoted, 65

Reading, 18 _sqq._

Recreation, grounds, 87;
in bad weather, 185

Reeds (pens), 70, 113

Respect to the old, 237

Reverence of priests, 237

Rhetoric, 102

River, 61, 183

Rome, 118

Rope-dancer (_funambulus_), 51

Rush-mats, 97

Saviour, our, quoted, 141

Scaevola, Mutius, 97

Scaevolae, 217

Scholarship ill-esteemed in Belgium, 154

School, 2, 8, 9, 10, 11, 19;
Vives’ idea of the, xxxix.

School-fees, 10

Schoolmasters, 9, 15, 36, 122, 123, 136

Scipio Africanus, 210

Seal, of letters, 70

Secretaries to nobles, 70

Silence before elders and superiors, 238

Siliceus, literary tutor of Prince Philip, 173

Sister, Vives’, 201

Sky, the open, 64

Slavery of ignorance, 174

Sluggishness, danger of, 184

Socrates, 105

Sophocles, 114

Spaniards, 92, 104

Spanish cap, 87

Spanish inn, 126

Spanish navigations, 95

Spanish triumph (in cards), 189

Spring, 88

Stakes, 23, 191

Statues in a house, 96 _sqq._

Statutes of schools enjoining Vives’ _Dialogues_, xxxiv.

“Still” wine, 139

Stories, nineteen, told by students, VIII.

Stunica, educator of Prince Philip, 173

Style of _Dialogues_, xxxvi.

Styles (pens), 70

Subject-matter and style of _Dialogues_, xxxii.

Suits in cards, names of, 189

Summer-house, 97

Sun-dial, 82

Syracusans, 111

Tapestry, 97

Teacher, 54, 101;
choice of, 9, 19, 25, 31

Teachers in Belgium, 154;
Pandulfus, 56;
the best living, 179;
clients of nobles, 223

Tennis in France and Belgium, 202;
in Valencia, 203

“Thanks” to a host, 148–148

Thrashing by teachers, 70

Tongs, 119

Trunk, story arising from the, 39

Truth and flattery at court, 170–170

Truth-speaking, 241

Tumbler, the, 51

Turkey-carpets, 130

Twins, 43

Tyrones, 102

Umpire, 25

Urbanity, 233

Ushers’ conversation at school-meal, 35 _sqq._

Valdaura, Margaret, wife of Vives, xi., xxxiii.

Valencia, city of, XXII.

Valerius Maximus, 95

Valla, Laurentius, xx., 47

Vegetables, selling of, 15

Vergil, 40, 54, 91, 112, 123, 136

Vernacular, in education, xlvi.-xlviii.

Vernacular literature before the Renascence, xviii.

Verse-maker, Mannius the, 44

Verse-making, 123

Vives, J. L., at school at Valencia, ix.;
his schoolmasters, x.;
one of the Renascence triumvirate, vii.;
his parents, vii.-ix.;
and scholasticism, ix.;
at Paris, xi.;
at Bruges, xi.;
at Louvain, xi.;
at Lyons, xi.;
and Princess Mary, xiv.;
life in London, xv.;
his wife, Margaret Valdaura, xv.;
and boys, xxxvii., l.;
his _De Tradendis Disciplinis_, vii., x., xvi.;
his _De Institutione Feminae Christianae_, viii., xiv.;
commentary on St. Augustine’s _Civitas Dei_, xiii.;
his _Introductio ad Sapientiam_, xv.;
his _De Officio Mariti_, xvi.;
his _De Europae Dissidiis et Bello Turico_, xvi.;
his _De Veritate Fidei Christianae_, xvi.;
his _De Anima_, xvi.

Vives, J. L., references to himself in the _Dialogues_: a sufferer
from gout, 34;
names wells in the city of Louvain, 92;
his verse-writing, 196–196;
his father’s house in Valencia, 201

Wainscoting, 97

Wash-basins, 129

Washing, 4, 86

Watch (_horologium viatorium_), 40

Water, 92, 141

Water-drinking, xlv.

Well, the Latin and the Greek at Louvain, 92

Whist, French and Spanish, 189

Wife of a drunkard, 151

Winding-stairs, 96

Window-panes, 96

Windows, wooden and glass, 1

Wine, 137

Wine-cellar, 98

Wine-drinking, xlv.

Writing, X.;
usefulness of, 66;
writing-master, 68

Writing-tablet, 21

Xenocrates, 232

Xenophon, 105, 113

Zabatta, Angela, learned lady of Valencia, 201

THE END

THE TEMPLE PRESS, PRINTERS, LETCHWORTH

End of Project Gutenberg's Tudor school-boy life, by Juan Luis Vives