The Colloquies of Erasmus, Volume I

Xa. Why, so they say, indeed.

Eu. This chiefly I observed as a Rule, never to chide my Husband before Company, nor to carry any Complaints out of Doors. What passes between two People, is more easily made up, than when once it has taken Air. Now if any Thing of that kind shall happen, that cannot be born with, and that the Husband can't be cur'd by the Admonition of his Wife, it is more prudent for the Wife to carry her Complaints to her Husband's Parents and Kindred, than to her own; and so to soften her Complaint, that she mayn't seem to hate her Husband, but her Husband's Vices: And not to blab out all neither, that her Husband may tacitly own and love his Wife for her Civility.

Xa. A Woman must needs be a Philosopher, who can be able to do this.

Eu. By this Deportment we invite our Husbands to return the Civility.

Xa. But there are some Brutes in the World, whom you cannot amend, by the utmost good Carriage.

Eu. In Truth, I don't think it: But put the Case there are: First, consider this; a Husband must be born with, let him be as bad as he will. It is better therefore to bear with him as he is, or made a little better by our courteous Temper, than by our Outrageousness to make him grow every Day worse and worse. What if I should give Instances of Husbands, who by the like civil Treatment have altered their Spouses much for the better? How much more does it become us to use our Husbands after this Manner?

Xa. You will give an Instance then of a Man, that is as unlike my Husband, as black is from white.

Eu. I have the Honour to be acquainted with a Gentleman of a noble Family; Learned, and of singular Address and Dexterity; he married a young Lady, a Virgin of seventeen Years of Age, that had been educated all along in the Country in her Father's House, as Men of Quality love to reside in the Country, for the Sake of Hunting and Fowling: He had a Mind to have a raw unexperienc'd Maid, that he might the more easily form her Manners to his own Humour. He began to instruct her in Literature and Musick, and to use her by Degrees to repeat the Heads of Sermons, which she heard, and to accomplish her with other Things, which would afterwards be of Use to her. Now these Things being wholly new to the Girl, which had been brought up at Home, to do nothing but gossip and play, she soon grew weary of this Life, she absolutely refus'd to submit to what her Husband requir'd of her; and when her Husband press'd her about it, she would cry continually, sometimes she would throw herself flat on the Ground, and beat her Head against the Ground, as tho' she wish'd for Death. Her Husband finding there was no End of this, conceal'd his Resentment, gave his Wife an Invitation to go along with him into the Country to his Father-in-Law's House, for the Sake of a little Diversion. His Wife very readily obey'd him in this Matter. When they came there, the Husband left his Wife with her Mother and Sisters, and went a Hunting with his Father-in-Law; there having taken him aside privately, he tells his Father-in-law, that whereas he was in good Hopes to have had an agreeable Companion of his Daughter, he now had one that was always a crying, and fretting herself; nor could she be cured by any Admonitions, and intreats him to lend a helping Hand to cure his Daughter's Disorder. His Father-in-Law made him answer, that he had once put his Daughter into his Hand, and if she did not obey him, he might use his Authority, and cudgel her into a due Submission. The Son-in-Law replies, I know my own Power, but I had much rather she should be reform'd by your Art or Authority, than to come to these Extremities. The Father-in-Law promis'd him to take some Care about the Matter: So a Day or two after, he takes a proper Time and Place, when he was alone with his Daughter, and looking austerely upon her, begins in telling her how homely she was, and how disagreeable as to her Disposition, and how often he had been in Fear that he should never be able to get her a Husband: But after much Pains, says he, I found you such a one, that the best Lady of the Land would have been glad of; and yet, you not being sensible what I have done for you, nor considering that you have such a Husband, who if he were not the best natur'd Man in the World, would scarce do you the Honour to take you for one of his Maid Servants, you are disobedient to him: To make short of my Story, the Father grew so hot in his Discourse, that he seem'd to be scarce able to keep his Hands off her; for he was so wonderful cunning a Man, that he would act any Part, as well as any Comedian. The young Lady, partly for Fear, and partly convinc'd by the Truth of what was told her, fell down at her Father's Feet, beseeching him to forget past Faults, and for the Time to come, she would be mindful of her Duty. Her Father freely forgave her, and also promised, that he would be to her a very indulgent Father, provided she perform'd what she promis'd.

Xa. Well, what happened after that?

Eu. The young Lady going away, after her Fathers Discourse was ended, went directly into her Chamber, and finding her Husband alone, she fell down on her Knees, and said, Husband, till this very Moment, I neither knew you nor myself; but from this Time forward, you shall find me another Sort of Person; only, I intreat you to forget what is past. The Husband receiv'd this Speech with a Kiss, and promised to do every Thing she could desire, if she did but continue in that Resolution.

Xa. What! Did she continue in it?

Eu. Even to her dying Day; nor was any Thing so mean, but she readily and chearfully went about it, if her Husband would have it so. So great a Love grew, and was confirm'd between them. Some Years after, the young Lady would often congratulate herself, that she had happen'd to marry such a Husband, which had it not happen'd, said she, I had been the most wretched Woman alive.

Xa. Such Husbands are as scarce now a Days as white Crows.

Eu. Now if it will not be tedious to you, I'll tell you a Story, that lately happen'd in this City, of a Husband that was reclaimed by the good Management of his Wife.

Xa. I have nothing to do at present, and your Conversation is very diverting.

Eu. There is a certain Gentleman of no mean Descent; he, like the rest of his Quality, used often to go a Hunting: Being in the Country, he happen'd to see a young Damsel, the Daughter of a poor old Woman, and began to fall desperately in love with her. He was a Man pretty well in Years; and for the Sake of this young Maid, he often lay out a Nights, and his Pretence for it was Hunting. His Wife, a Woman of an admirable Temper, suspecting something more than ordinary, went in search to find out her Husband's Intrigues, and having discover'd them, by I can't tell what Method, she goes to the Country Cottage, and learnt all the Particulars where he lay, what he drank, and what Manner of Entertainment he had at Table. There was no Furniture in the House, nothing but naked Walls. The Gentlewoman goes Home, and quickly after goes back again, carrying with her a handsome Bed and Furniture, some Plate and Money, bidding them to treat him with more Respect, if at any Time he came there again. A few Days after, her Husband steals an Opportunity to go thither, and sees the Furniture increas'd, and finds his Entertainment more delicate than it us'd to be; he enquir'd from whence this unaccustomed Finery came: They said, that a certain honest Gentlewoman of his Acquaintance, brought these Things; and gave them in Charge, that he should be treated with more Respect for the future. He presently suspected that this was done by his Wife. When he came Home, he ask'd her if she had been there. She did not deny it. Then he ask'd her for what Reason she had sent thither that household Furniture? My Dear, says she, you are us'd to a handsomer Way of Living: I found that you far'd hardly there, I thought it my Duty, since you took a Fancy to the Place, that your Reception should be more agreeable.

Xa. A Wife good even to an Excess. I should sooner have sent him a Bundle of Nettles and Thorns, than furnish'd him with a fine Bed.

Eu. But hear the Conclusion of my Story; the Gentleman was so touch'd, seeing so much good Nature and Temper in his Wife, that he never after that violated her Bed, but solaced himself with her at Home. I know you know Gilbert the Dutchman.

Xa. I know him.

Eu. He, you know, in the prime of his Age, marry'd a Gentlewoman well stricken in Years, and in a declining Age.

Xa. It may be he marry'd the Portion, and not the Woman.

Eu. So it was. He having an Aversion to his Wife, was over Head and Ears in Love with a young Woman, with whom he us'd ever and anon to divert himself abroad. He very seldom either din'd or supp'd at home. What would you have done, if this had been your Case, Xantippe?

Xa. Why I would have torn his beloved Strumpet's Headcloths off, and I would have wash'd him well with a Chamber-Pot, when he was going to her, that he might have gone thus perfum'd to his Entertainment.

Eu. But how much more prudently did this Gentlewoman behave herself.

She invited his Mistress home to her House, and treated her with all the Civility imaginable. So she kept her Husband without any magical Charms.

And if at any Time he supp'd abroad with her, she sent them thither some Nicety or other, desiring them to be merry together.

Xa. As for me, I would sooner chuse to lose my Life than to be Bawd to my own Husband.

Eu. But in the mean Time, pray consider the Matter soberly and coolly. Was not this much better, than if she had by her ill Temper totally alienated her Husband's Affections from her, and spent her whole Life in quarrelling and brawling.

Xa. I believe, that of two Evils it was the least, but I could never have submitted to it.

Eu. I will add one more, and then I'll have done with Examples. A next Door Neighbour of ours is a very honest, good Man, but a little too subject to Passion. One Day he beat his Wife, a Woman of commendable Prudence. She immediately withdrew into a private Room, and there gave Vent to her Grief by Tears and Sighs. Soon after upon some Occasion her Husband came into the Room, and found his Wife all in Tears. What's the Matter, says he, that you're crying and sobbing like a Child? To which she prudently reply'd, Why, says she, is it not much better to lament my Misfortune here, than if I should make a Bawling in the Street, as other Women do? The Man's Mind was so overcome and mollified by this Answer, so like a Wife, that giving her his Hand, he made a solemn Promise to his Wife, he would never lay his Hand upon her after, as long as he liv'd. Nor did he ever do it.

Xa. I have obtain'd as much from my Husband, but by a different Conduct.

Eu. But in the mean Time there are perpetual Wars between you.

Xa. What then would you have me to do?

Eu. If your Husband offers you any Affront, you must take no Notice of it, but endeavour to gain his good Will by all good Offices, courteous Carriage, and Meekness of Spirit, and by these Methods, you will in Time, either wholly reclaim him, or at least you will live with him much more easy than now you do.

Xa. Ay, but he's too ill-natur'd to be wrought upon by all the kind Offices in the World.

Eu. Hold, don't say so, there is no Beast that is so savage but he may be tam'd by good Management; therefore don't despair of it as to a Man. Do but make the Experiment for a few Months, and if you do not find that this Advice has been of Benefit to you, blame me. And there are also some Faults that you must wink at; but above all Things, it is my Opinion, you ought to avoid ever to begin any Quarrel either in the Bed-Chamber, or in Bed, and to take a special Care that every Thing there be chearful and pleasant. For if that Place which is consecrated for the wiping out old Miscarriages and the cementing of Love, comes to be unhallowed by Contention and Sourness of Temper, all Remedy for the Reconcilement is taken away. For there are some Women of so morose Tempers that they will be querulous, and scold even while the Rites of Love are performing, and will by the Uneasiness of their Tempers render that Fruition itself disagreeable which is wont to discharge the Minds of Men from any Heart-burning, that they may have had; and by this Means they spoil that Cordial, by which Misunderstandings in Matrimony might be cured.

Xa. That has been often my Case.

Eu. And tho' it ought always to be the Care of a Wife, not to make her Husband uneasy in any Thing; yet that ought to be especially her Care to study, in conjugal Embraces to render herself by all ways possible, agreeable and delightful to her Husband.

Xa. To a Man, indeed! But I have to do with an untractable Beast.

Eu. Come, come, leave off Railing. For the most part Husbands are made bad, by our bad Conduct. But to return to our Argument, those that are conversant in the antient Fables of the Poets, tell you that Venus, (whom they make a Goddess, that presides over Matrimony) had a Girdle or Cestus which was made for her by Vulcan's Art, in which were interwoven all bewitching Ingredients of an amorous Medicament, and that she put this on whenever she went to bed to her Husband.

Xa. I hear a Fable.

Eu. It is true: But hear the Moral of it.

Xa. Tell it me.

Eu. That teaches that a Wife ought to use all the Care imaginable to be so engaging to her Husband in conjugal Embraces, that matrimonial Affection may be retain'd and renew'd, and if there has been any Distaste or Aversion, it may be expell'd the Mind.

Xa. But where can a Body get this Girdle?

Eu. There is no Need of Witchcrafts and Spells to procure one. There is no Enchantment so effectual as Virtue, join'd with a Sweetness of Disposition.

Xa. I can't be able to bring myself to humour such a Husband as I have got.

Eu. But this is for your Interest, that he would leave off to be such a bad Husband. If you could by Circe's Art transform your Husband into a Swine or a Bear, would you do it?

Xa. I can't tell, whether I should or no.

Eu. Which had you rather have, a Swine to your Husband, or a Man?

Xa. In Truth, I had rather have a Man.

Eu. Well, come on. What if you could by Circe's Arts make him a sober Man of a Drunkard, a frugal Man of a Spendthrift, a diligent Man of an idle Fellow, would you not do it?

Xa. To be sure, I would do it. But how shall I attain the Art?

Eu. You have the Art in yourself, if you would but make Use of it. Whether you will or no he must be your Husband, and the better Man you make him, the more you consult your own Advantage. You only keep your Eyes fix'd upon his Faults, and those aggravate your Aversion to him; and only hold him by this Handle, which is such a one that he cannot be held by; but rather take Notice of what good Qualities he has, and hold him by this Handle, which is a Handle he may be held by: Before you married him, you had Time of considering what his Defects were. A Husband is not to be chosen by the Eyes only, but by the Ears too. Now 'tis your Time to cure him, and not to find Fault with him.

Xa. What Woman ever made Choice of a Husband by her Ears?

Eu. She chuses a Husband by her Eyes, which looks at nothing else but his Person and bare Outside: She chuses him by her Ears, who carefully observes what Reputation he has in the World.

Xa. This is good Advice, but it is too late.

Eu. But it is not too late to endeavour to amend your Husband. It will contribute something to the Matter, if you could have any Children by him.

Xa. I have had one.

Eu. When?

Xa. A long Time ago.

Eu. How many Months?

Xa. Why, about Seven.

Eu. What do I hear! You put me in Mind of the Joke of the three Months Lying in.

Xa. By no Means.

Eu. It must be so, if you reckon from the Day of Marriage.

Xa. But I had some private Discourse with him before Marriage.

Eu. Are Children got by Talking?

Xa. He having by Chance got me into a Room by myself, began to play with me, tickling me about the Arm-pits and Sides, to make me laugh, and I not being able to bear being tickled any longer, threw myself flat upon the Bed, and he lying upon me, kiss'd me, and I don't know what he did to me besides; but this is certain, within a few Days after, my Belly began to swell.

Eu. Get you gone now, and slight a Husband, who if he can get Children jesting, what will he do if he sets about it in earnest?

Xa. I suspect that I am now with Child by him again.

Eu. O brave! to a good Soil, here's a good Ploughman to till it.

Xa. As to this Affair, he's better than I wish he was.

Eu. Very few Wives have this Complaint to make: But, I suppose, the Marriage Contract was made between you, before this happened.

Xa. It was made.

Eu. Then the Sin was so much the less. Is your Child a Boy?

Xa. It is.

Eu. That will reconcile you both, if you will but qualify yourself a little for it. What Sort of Character do your Husband's Companions give him? And what Company does he keep when he is abroad?

Xa. They give him the Character of an exceeding good-humour'd, courteous, generous Man, and a true Friend to his Friend.

Eu. These Things give me great Hopes, that he will become such as we would have him be.

Xa. But I am the only Person he is not so to.

Eu. Do you but be to him what I have told you, and if he does not begin to be so to you, instead of Eulalia (a good Speaker), call me Pseudolalia (a prating Liar); and besides, consider this, that he's but a young Man yet, I believe not above twenty-four Years of Age, and does not yet know what it is to be the Master of a Family. You must never think of a Divorce now.

Xa. But I have thought on it a great many Times.

Eu. But if ever that Thought comes into your Mind again, first of all consider with yourself, what an insignificant Figure a Woman makes when she is parted from her Husband. It is the greatest Glory of a Matron, to be obedient to her Husband. This Nature dictates, and it is the Will of God, that the Woman should wholly depend upon her Husband: Only think, as it really is, he is your Husband, you cannot have another. Then call to Mind that the little Boy belongs to you both. What would you do with him? Would you take him away with you? Then will you defraud your Husband of his own. Will you leave him to him? Then you will deprive yourself of that, than which nothing is more dear. Last of all, tell me, is there any Body that wishes you ill?

Xa. I have a Step-Mother, and a Mother-in-Law, as like her as may be.

Eu. And they wish you ill, do they?

Xa. They wish me in my Grave.

Eu. Then think of them likewise. What can you be able to do, that would be more grateful to them, than if they should see you divorc'd from your Husband; a Widow, nay, to live, a Widow bewitcht, worse than a Widow? For Widows may marry again.

Xa. I approve of your Advice; but can't bear the Thoughts of being always a Slave.

Eu. Recount what Pains you took before you could teach that Parrot to prattle.

Xa. A great Deal indeed.

Eu. And yet you think much to bestow a little Pains to mould your Husband, with whom you may live a pleasant Life all your Days. What a Deal of Pains do Men take to render a Horse tractable to them: And shall we think much to take a little Pains to render our Husbands more agreeable?

Xa. What must I do?

Eu. I have told you already, take Care that all Things be neat, and in Order at Home, that there be nothing discomposing, to make him go out of Doors; behave yourself easy and free to him, always remembring that Respect which is due from a Wife to a Husband. Let all Melancholy and ill-tim'd Gaiety be banished out of Doors; be not morose nor frolicksome. Let your Table be handsomely provided. You know your Husband's Palate, dress that which he likes best. Behave yourself courteously and affably to those of his Acquaintance he respects. Invite them frequently to Dinner; let all Things be pleasant and chearful at Table. Lastly, if at any Time he happens to come Home a little merry with Wine, and shall fall to playing on his Fiddle, do you sing, to him, so you will gradually inure your Husband to keep at Home, and also lessen his Expences: For he will thus reason with himself; was not I mad with a Witness, who live abroad with a nasty Harlot, to the apparent Prejudice of my Estate and Reputation, when I have at Home a Wife much more entertaining and affectionate to me, with whom I may be entertained more handsomely and more plentifully?

Xa. Do you think I shall succeed, if I try?

Eu. Look to me for that. I engage that you will: In the mean Time I'll talk to your Husband, and put him in Mind of his Duty.

Xa. I approve of your Design; but take Care that he mayn't discover any Thing of what has past between us two, for he would throw the House out of the Windows.

Eu. Don't fear, I'll order my Discourse so by Turnings and Windings, that he shall tell me himself, what Quarrels have happened between you. When I have brought this about, I'll treat him after my Way, as engagingly as can be, and I hope, shall render him to you better temper'd: I'll likewise take Occasion to tell a Lie or two in your Favour, how lovingly and respectfully you spoke of him.

Xa. Heaven prosper both our Undertakings.

Eu. It will, I doubt not, if you are not wanting to yourself.

THE SOLDIER AND CARTHUSIAN

The ARGUMENT

This Colloquy sets out to the Life, the Madness of young Men that run into the Wars, and the Life of a pious Carthusian, which without the love of Study, can't but be melancholy and unpleasant. The Manners of Soldiers, the Manners and Diet of Carthusians. Advice in chusing a Way of getting a Livelihood. The Conveniency of a single Life, to be at Leisure for Reading and Meditation. Wicked Soldiers oftentimes butcher Men for a pitiful Reward. The daily Danger of a Soldier's Life.

The SOLDIER and CARTHUSIAN.

Sol. Good Morrow, my Brother.

Cart. Good Morrow to you, dear Cousin.

Sol. I scarce knew you.

Cart. Am I grown so old in two Years Time?

Sol. No; but your bald Crown, and your new Dress, make you look to me like another Sort of Creature.

Cart. It may be you would not know your own Wife, if she should meet you in a new Gown.

Sol. No; not if she was in such a one as yours.

Cart. But I know you very well, who are not altered as to your Dress; but your Face, and the whole Habit of your Body: Why, how many Colours are you painted with? No Bird had ever such a Variety of Feathers. How all is cut and slash'd! Nothing according to Nature or Fashion! your cut Hair, your half-shav'd Beard, and that Wood upon your upper Lip, entangled and standing out straggling like the Whiskers of a Cat. Nor is it one single Scar that has disfigured your Face, that you may very well be taken for one of the Samian literati, [q.d. burnt in the Cheek] concerning whom there is a joking Proverb.

Sol. Thus it becomes a Man to come back from the Wars. But, pray, tell me, was there so great a Scarcity of good Physicians in this Quarter of the World?

Cart. Why do you ask?

Sol. Because you did not get the Distemper of your Brain cur'd, before you plung'd yourself into this Slavery.

Cart. Why, do you think I was mad then?

Sol. Yes, I do. What Occasion was there for you to be buried here, before your Time, when you had enough in the World to have lived handsomely upon?