{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_39487/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_39487","id":"gutenberg_39487","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/39487","summary":null,"tags":["Category: History - Early Modern (c. 1450-1750)","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","War"],"text":"Produced by Bryan Ness and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was\nproduced from scanned images of public domain material\nfrom the Google Print project.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n  THE HUMANISTS' LIBRARY\n  Edited by Lewis Einstein\n\n  II\n\n  ERASMUS\n  AGAINST WAR\n\n\n\n\n  ERASMUS\n  AGAINST WAR\n\n\n  [Illustration]\n\n\n  WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY\n  J.W.MACKAIL\n\n  THE MERRYMOUNT PRESS\n  BOSTON, MDCCCCVII\n\n\n  Copyright, 1907, by D. B. Updike\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n  Introduction      ix\n\n  Against War        3\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nThe Treatise on War, of which the earliest English translation is here\nreprinted, was among the most famous writings of the most illustrious\nwriter of his age. Few people now read Erasmus; he has become for the\nworld in general a somewhat vague name. Only by some effort of the\nhistorical imagination is it possible for those who are not professed\nscholars and students to realize the enormous force which he was at a\ncritical period in the history of civilization. The free institutions and\nthe material progress of the modern world have alike their roots in\nhumanism. Humanism as a movement of the human mind culminated in the age,\nand even in a sense in the person, of Erasmus. Its brilliant flower was of\nan earlier period; its fruits developed and matured later; but it was in\nhis time, and in him, that the fruit set! The earlier sixteenth century is\nnot so romantic as its predecessors, nor so rich in solid achievement as\nothers that have followed it. As in some orchard when spring is over, the\nblossom lies withered on the grass, and the fruit has long to wait before\nit can ripen on the boughs. Yet here, in the dull, hot midsummer days, is\nthe central and critical period of the year's growth.\n\nThe life of Erasmus is accessible in many popular forms as well as in more\nlearned and formal works. To recapitulate it here would fall beyond the\nscope of a preface. But in order to appreciate this treatise fully it is\nnecessary to realize the time and circumstances in which it appeared, and\nto recall some of the main features of its author's life and work up to\nthe date of its composition.\n\nThat date can be fixed with certainty, from a combination of external and\ninternal evidence, between the years 1513 and 1515; in all probability it\nwas the winter of 1514-15. It was printed in the latter year, in the\n\"editio princeps\" of the enlarged and rewritten Adagia then issued from\nFroben's great printing-works at Basel. The stormy decennate of Pope\nJulius II had ended in February, 1513. To his successor, Giovanni de'\nMedici, who succeeded to the papal throne under the name of Leo X, the\ntreatise is particularly addressed. The years which ensued were a time\nsingularly momentous in the history of religion, of letters, and of the\nwhole life of the civilized world. The eulogy of Leo with which Erasmus\nends indicates the hopes then entertained of a new Augustan age of peace\nand reconciliation. The Reformation was still capable of being regarded as\nan internal and constructive force, within the framework of the society\nbuilt up by the Middle Ages. The final divorce between humanism and the\nChurch had not yet been made. The long and disastrous epoch of the wars of\nreligion was still only a dark cloud on the horizon. The Renaissance was\nreally dead, but few yet realized the fact. The new head of the Church was\na lover of peace, a friend of scholars, a munificent patron of the arts.\nThis treatise shows that Erasmus, to a certain extent, shared or strove to\nshare in an illusion widely spread among the educated classes of Europe.\nWith a far keener instinct for that which the souls of men required, an\nAugustinian monk from Wittenberg, who had visited Rome two years earlier,\nhad turned away from the temple where a corpse lay swathed in gold and\nhalf hid in the steam of incense. With a far keener insight into the real\nstate of things, Machiavelli was, at just this time, composing The Prince.\n\nIn one form or another, the subject of his impassioned pleading for peace\namong beings human, civilized, and Christian, had been long in Erasmus's\nmind. In his most celebrated single work, the Praise of Folly, he had\nbitterly attacked the attitude towards war habitual, and evilly\nconsecrated by usage, among kings and popes. The same argument had formed\nthe substance of a document addressed by him, under the title of\nAnti-Polemus, to Pope Julius in 1507. Much of the substance, much even of\nthe phraseology of that earlier work is doubtless repeated here. Beyond\nthe specific reference to Pope Leo, the other notes of time in the\ntreatise now before us are few and faint. Allusions to Louis XII of France\n(1498-1515), to Ferdinand the Catholic (1479-1516), to Philip, king of\nAragon (1504-1516), and Sigismund, king of Poland (1506-1548), are all\nconsistent with the composition of the treatise some years earlier. At the\nend of it he promises to treat of the matter more largely when he\npublishes the Anti-Polemus. But this intention was never carried into\neffect. Perhaps Erasmus had become convinced of its futility; for the\nevents of the years which followed soon showed that the new Augustan age\nwas but a false dawn over which night settled more stormily and profoundly\nthan before.\n\nFor ten or a dozen years Erasmus had stood at the head of European\nscholarship. His name was as famous in France and England as in the Low\nCountries and Germany. The age was indeed one of those in which the\nmuch-abused term of the republic of letters had a real and vital meaning.\nThe nationalities of modern Europe had already formed themselves; the\nnotion of the Empire had become obsolete, and if the imperial title was\nstill coveted by princes, it was under no illusion as to the amount of\neffective supremacy which it carried with it, or as to any life yet\nremaining in the mediaeval doctrine of the unity of Christendom whether as\na church or as a state. The discovery of the new world near the end of\nthe previous century precipitated a revolution in European politics\ntowards which events had long been moving, and finally broke up the\npolitical framework of the Middle Ages. But the other great event of the\nsame period, the invention and diffusion of the art of printing, had\ncreated a new European commonwealth of the mind. The history of the\ncentury which followed it is a history in which the landmarks are found\nless in battles and treaties than in books.\n\nThe earlier life of the man who occupies the central place in the literary\nand spiritual movement of his time in no important way differs from the\nyouth of many contemporary scholars and writers. Even the illegitimacy of\nhis birth was an accident shared with so many others that it does not mark\nhim out in any way from his fellows. His early education at Utrecht, at\nDeventer, at Herzogenbosch; his enforced and unhappy novitiate in a house\nof Augustinian canons near Gouda; his secretaryship to the bishop of\nCambray, the grudging patron who allowed rather than assisted him to\ncomplete his training at the University of Paris--all this was at the time\nmere matter of common form. It is with his arrival in England in 1497, at\nthe age of thirty-one, that his effective life really begins.\n\nFor the next twenty years that life was one of restless movement and\nincessant production. In England, France, the Low Countries, on the upper\nRhine, and in Italy, he flitted about gathering up the whole intellectual\nmovement of the age, and pouring forth the results in that admirable Latin\nwhich was not only the common language of scholars in every country, but\nthe single language in which he himself thought instinctively and wrote\nfreely. Between the Adagia of 1500 and the Colloquia of 1516 comes a mass\nof writings equivalent to the total product of many fertile and\nindustrious pens. He worked in the cause of humanism with a sacred fury,\nstriving with all his might to connect it with all that was living in the\nold and all that was developing in the newer world. In his travels no less\nthan in his studies the aspect of war must have perpetually met him as at\nonce the cause and the effect of barbarism; it was the symbol of\neverything to which humanism in its broader as well as in its narrower\naspect was utterly opposed and repugnant. He was a student at Paris in the\nominous year of the first French invasion of Italy, in which the death of\nPico della Mirandola and Politian came like a symbol of the death of the\nItalian Renaissance itself. Charles VIII, as has often been said, brought\nback the Renaissance to France from that expedition; but he brought her\nback a captive chained to the wheels of his cannon. The epoch of the\nItalian wars began. A little later (1500) Sandro Botticelli painted that\namazing Nativity which is one of the chief treasures of the London\nNational Gallery. Over it in mystical Greek may still be read the\npainter's own words: \"This picture was painted by me Alexander amid the\nconfusions of Italy at the time prophesied in the Second Woe of the\nApocalypse, when Satan shall be loosed upon the earth.\" In November, 1506,\nErasmus was at Bologna, and saw the triumphal entry of Pope Julius into\nthe city at the head of a great mercenary army. Two years later the league\nof Cambray, a combination of folly, treachery and shame which filled even\nhardened politicians with horror, plunged half Europe into a war in which\nno one was a gainer and which finally ruined Italy: \"bellum quo nullum,\"\nsays the historian, \"vel atrocius vel diuturnius in Italia post exactos\nGothos majores nostri meminerunt.\" In England Erasmus found, on his first\nvisit, a country exhausted by the long and desperate struggle of the Wars\nof the Roses, out of which she had emerged with half her ruling class\nkilled in battle or on the scaffold, and the whole fabric of society to\nreconstruct. The Empire was in a state of confusion and turmoil no less\ndeplorable and much more extensive. The Diet of 1495 had indeed, by an\nexpiring effort towards the suppression of absolute anarchy, decreed the\nabolition of private war. But in a society where every owner of a castle,\nevery lord of a few square miles of territory, could conduct public war on\nhis own account, the prohibition was of little more than formal value.\nHumanism had been introduced by the end of the fifteenth century in some\nof the German universities, but too late to have much effect on the rising\nfury of religious controversy. The very year in which this treatise\nagainst war was published gave to the world another work of even wider\ncirculation and more profound consequences. The famous Epistolae\nObscurorum Virorum, first published in 1515, and circulated rapidly among\nall the educated readers of Europe, made an open breach between the\nhumanists and the Church. That breach was never closed; nor on the other\nhand could the efforts of well-intentioned reformers like Melancthon bring\nhumanism into any organic relation with the reformed movement. When mutual\nexhaustion concluded the European struggle, civilization had to start\nafresh; it took a century more to recover the lost ground. The very idea\nof humanism had long before then disappeared.\n\nWar, pestilence, the theologians: these were the three great enemies with\nwhich Erasmus says he had throughout life to contend. It was during the\nyears he spent in England that he was perhaps least harassed by them. His\nthree periods of residence there--a fourth, in 1517, appears to have been\nof short duration and not marked by any very notable incident--were of the\nutmost importance in his life. During the first, in his residence between\nthe years 1497 and 1499 at London and Oxford, the English Renaissance, if\nthe name be fully applicable to so partial and inconclusive a movement,\nwas in the promise and ardour of its brief spring. It was then that\nErasmus made the acquaintance of those great Englishmen whose names cannot\nbe mentioned with too much reverence: Colet, Grocyn, Latimer, Linacre.\nThese men were the makers of modern England to a degree hardly realized.\nThey carried the future in their hands. Peace had descended upon a weary\ncountry; and the younger generation was full of new hopes. The Enchiridion\nMilitis Christiani, written soon after Erasmus returned to France,\nbreathes the spirit of one who had not lost hope in the reconciliation of\nthe Church and the world, of the old and new. When Erasmus made his second\nvisit to England, in 1506, that fair promise had grown and spread. Colet\nhad become dean of Saint Paul's; and through him, as it would appear,\nErasmus now made the acquaintance of another great man with whom he soon\nformed as close an intimacy, Thomas More.\n\nHis Italian journey followed: he was in Italy nearly three years, at\nTurin, Bologna, Venice, Padua, Siena, Rome. It was in the first of these\nyears that Albert Duerer was also in Italy, where he met Bellini and was\nrecognized by the Italian masters as the head of a new transalpine art in\nno way inferior to their own. The year after Erasmus left Italy,\nBotticelli, the last survivor of the ancient world, died at Florence.\n\nMeanwhile, Henry VIII, a prince, young, handsome, generous, pious, had\nsucceeded to the throne of England. A golden age was thought to have\ndawned. Lord Mountjoy, who had been the pupil of Erasmus at Paris, and\nwith whom he had first come to England, lost no time in urging Henry to\nsend for the most brilliant and famous of European scholars, and attach\nhim to his court. The king, who had already met and admired him, needed no\npressing. In the letter which Henry himself wrote to Erasmus entreating\nhim to take up his residence in England, the language employed was that of\nsincere admiration; nor was there any conscious insincerity in the main\nmotive which he urged. \"It is my earnest wish,\" wrote the king, \"to\nrestore Christ's religion to its primitive purity.\" The history of the\nEnglish Reformation supplies a strange commentary on these words.\n\nBut the first few years of the new reign (1509-1513), which coincide with\nthe third and longest sojourn of Erasmus in England, were a time in which\nhigh hopes might not seem unreasonable. While Italy was ravaged by war and\nthe rest of Europe was in uneasy ferment, England remained peaceful and\nprosperous. The lust of the eyes and the pride of life were indeed the\nmotive forces of the court; but alongside of these was a real desire for\nreform, and a real if very imperfect attempt to cultivate the nobler arts\nof peace, to establish learning, and to purify religion. Colet's great\nfoundation of Saint Paul's School in 1510 is one of the landmarks of\nEnglish history. Erasmus joined the founder and the first high master,\nColet and Lily, in composing the schoolbooks to be used in it. He had\nalready written, in More's house at Chelsea, where pure religion reigned\nalongside of high culture, the Encomium Moriae, in which all his immense\ngifts of eloquence and wit were lavished on the cause of humanism and the\nlarger cause of humanity. That war was at once a sin, a scandal, and a\nfolly was one of the central doctrines of the group of eminent Englishmen\nwith whom he was now associated. It was a doctrine held by them with some\nambiguity and in varying degrees. In the Utopia (1516) More condemns wars\nof aggression, while taking the common view as to wars of so-called\nself-defence. In 1513, when Henry, swept into the seductive scheme for a\npartition of France by a European confederacy, was preparing for the first\nof his many useless and inglorious continental campaigns, Colet spoke out\nmore freely. He preached before the court against war itself as barbarous\nand unchristian, and did not spare either kings or popes who dealt\notherwise. Henry was disturbed; he sent for Colet, and pressed him hard on\nthe point whether he meant that all wars were unjustifiable. Colet was in\nadvance of his age, but not so far in advance of it as this. He gave some\nkind of answer which satisfied the king. The preparations for war went\nforward; the Battle of Spurs plunged the court and all the nation into the\nintoxication of victory; while at Flodden-edge, in the same autumn, the\nancestral allies of France sustained the most crushing defeat recorded in\nScottish history. When both sides in a war have invoked God's favour, the\nsuccessful side is ready enough to believe that its prayers have been\nanswered and its action accepted by God.\n\nErasmus was now reader in Greek and professor of divinity at Cambridge;\nbut Cambridge was far away from the centre of European thought and of\nliterary activities. He left England before the end of the year for Basel,\nwhere the greater part of his life thenceforth was passed. Froben had made\nBasel the chief literary centre of production for the whole of Europe.\nThrough Froben's printing-presses Erasmus could reach a wider audience\nthan was allowed him at any court, however favourable to pure religion and\nthe new learning. It was at this juncture that he made an eloquent and\nfar-reaching appeal, on a matter which lay very near his heart, to the\nconscience of Christendom.\n\nThe Adagia, that vast work which was, at least to his own generation,\nErasmus's foremost title to fame, has long ago passed into the rank of\nthose monuments of literature \"dont la reputation s'affermira toujours\nparcequ'on ne les lit guere.\" So far as Erasmus is more than a name for\nmost modern readers, it is on slighter and more popular works that any\ndirect knowledge of him is grounded on the Colloquies, which only ceased\nto be a schoolbook within living memory, on the Praise of Folly, and on\nselections from the enormous masses of his letters. An Oxford scholar of\nthe last generation, whose profound knowledge of humanistic literature was\naccompanied by a gift of terse and pointed expression, describes the\nAdagia in a single sentence, as \"a manual of the wit and wisdom of the\nancient world for the use of the modern, enlivened by commentary in\nErasmus's finest vein.\" In its first form, the Adagiorum Collectanea, it\nwas published by him at Paris in 1500, just after his return from England.\nIn the author's epistle dedicatory to Mountjoy he ascribes to him and to\nRichard Charnock, the prior of Saint Mary's College in Oxford, the\ninspiration of the work. It consists of a series of between eight and nine\nhundred comments in brief essays, each suggested by some terse or\nproverbial phrase from an ancient Latin author. The work gave full scope\nfor the display, not only of the immense treasures of his learning, but of\nthose other qualities, the combination of which raised their author far\nabove all other contemporary writers, his keen wit, his copiousness and\nfacility, his complete control of Latin as a living language. It met with\nan enthusiastic reception, and placed him at once at the head of European\nmen of letters. Edition after edition poured from the press. It was ten\ntimes reissued at Paris within a generation. Eleven editions were\npublished at Strasburg between 1509 and 1521. Within the same years it was\nreprinted at Erfurt, The Hague, Cologne, Mayence, Leyden, and elsewhere.\nThe Rhine valley was the great nursery of letters north of the Alps, and\nalong the Rhine from source to sea the book spread and was multiplied.\n\nThis success induced Erasmus to enlarge and complete his labours. The\nAdagiorum Chiliades, the title of the work in its new form, was part of\nthe work of his residence in Italy in the years 1506-9, and was published\nat Venice by Aldus in September, 1508. The enlarged collection, to all\nintents and purposes a new work, consists of no less than three thousand\ntwo hundred and sixty heads. In a preface, Erasmus speaks slightingly of\nthe Adagiorum Collectanea, with that affectation from which few authors\nare free, as a little collection carelessly made. \"Some people got hold of\nit,\" he adds, (and here the affectation becomes absolute untruth,) \"and\nhad it printed very incorrectly.\" In the new work, however, much of the\nold disappears, much more is partially or wholly recast; and such of the\nold matter as is retained is dispersed at random among the new. In the\nCollectanea the commentaries had all been brief: here many are expanded\ninto substantial treatises covering four or five pages of closely printed\nfolio.\n\nThe Aldine edition had been reprinted at Basel by Froben in 1513. Shortly\nafterwards Erasmus himself took up his permanent residence there. Under\nhis immediate supervision there presently appeared what was to all intents\nand purposes the definitive edition of 1515. It is a book of nearly seven\nhundred folio pages, and contains, besides the introductory matter, three\nthousand four hundred and eleven headings. In his preface Erasmus gives\nsome details with regard to its composition. Of the original Paris work he\nnow says, no doubt with truth, that it was undertaken by him hastily and\nwithout enough method. When preparing the Venice edition he had better\nrealized the magnitude of the enterprise, and was better fitted for it by\nreading and learning, more especially by the mass of Greek manuscripts,\nand of newly printed Greek first editions, to which he had access at\nVenice and in other parts of Italy. In England also, owing very largely to\nthe kindness of Archbishop Warham, more leisure and an ampler library had\nbeen available.\n\nAmong several important additions made in the edition of 1515, this essay,\nthe text of which is the proverbial phrase \"Dulce bellum inexpertis,\" is\nat once the longest and the most remarkable. The adage itself, with a few\nlines of commentary, had indeed been in the original collection; but the\ntreatise, in itself a substantial work, now appeared for the first time.\nIt occupied a conspicuous place as the first heading in the fourth Chiliad\nof the complete work; and it was at once singled out from the rest as of\nspecial note and profound import. Froben was soon called upon for a\nseparate edition. This appeared in April, 1517, in a quarto of twenty\npages. This little book, the Bellum Erasmi as it was called for the sake\nof brevity, ran like wildfire from reader to reader. Half the scholarly\npresses of Europe were soon employed in reprinting it. Within ten years it\nhad been reissued at Louvain, twice at Strasburg, twice at Mayence, at\nLeipsic, twice at Paris, twice at Cologne, at Antwerp, and at Venice.\nGerman translations of it were published at Basel and at Strasburg in 1519\nand 1520. It soon made its way to England, and the translation here\nutilized was issued by Berthelet, the king's printer, in the winter of\n1533-4.\n\nWhether the translation be by Richard Taverner, the translator and editor,\na few years later, of an epitome or selection of the Chiliades, or by some\nother hand, there are no direct means of ascertaining; nor except for\npurposes of curiosity is the question an important one. The version wholly\nlacks distinction. It is a work of adequate scholarship but of no\nindependent literary merit. English prose was then hardly formed. The\nrevival of letters had reached the country, but for political and social\nreasons which are readily to be found in any handbook of English history,\nit had found a soil, fertile indeed, but not yet broken up. Since Chaucer,\nEnglish poetry had practically stood still, and except where poetry has\ncleared the way, prose does not in ordinary circumstances advance. A few\nadventurers in setting forth had appeared. More's Utopia, one of the\nearliest of English prose classics, is a classic in virtue of its style as\nwell as of its matter. Berners's translation of Froissart, published in\n1523, was the first and one of the finest of that magnificent series of\ntranslations which from this time onwards for about a century were\nproduced in an almost continuous stream, and through which the secret of\nprose was slowly wrung from older and more accomplished languages.\nLatimer, about the same time, showed his countrymen how a vernacular\nprose, flexible, well knit, and nervous, might be written without its\nlines being traced on any ancient or foreign model. Coverdale, the\ngreatest master of English prose whom the century produced, whose name has\njust missed the immortality that is secure for his work, must have\nsubstantially completed that magnificent version of the Bible which\nappeared in 1535, and to which the authorized version of the seventeenth\ncentury owes all that one work of genius can owe to another. It is not\nwith these great men that the translator of this treatise can be compared.\nBut he wrought, after his measure, on the same structure as they.\n\nIt is then to the original Latin, not to this rude and stammering version,\nthat scholars must turn now, as still more certainly they turned then, for\nthe mind of Erasmus; for with him, even more eminently than with other\nauthors, the style is the man, and his Latin is the substance, not merely\nthe dress, of his thought. When he wrote it he was about forty-eight years\nof age. He was still in the fullness of his power. If he was often\ncrippled by delicate health, that was no more than he had habitually been\nfrom boyhood. In this treatise we come very near the real man, with his\nstrange mixture of liberalism and orthodoxy, of clear-sighted courage and\na delicacy which nearly always might be mistaken for timidity.\n\nHis text is that (in the translator's words) \"nothing is either more\nwicked or more wretched, nothing doth worse become a man (I will not say a\nChristian man) than war.\" War was shocking to Erasmus alike on every side\nof his remarkably complex and sensitive nature. It was impious; it was\ninhuman; it was ugly; it was in every sense of the word barbarous, to one\nwho before all things and in the full sense of the word was civilized and\na lover of civilization. All these varied aspects of the case, seen by\nothers singly and partially, were to him facets of one truth, rays of one\nlight. His argument circles and flickers among them, hardly pausing to\nenforce one before passing insensibly to another. In the splendid\nvindication of the nature of man with which the treatise opens, the tone\nis rather that of Cicero than of the New Testament. The majesty of man\nresides above all in his capacity to \"behold the very pure strength and\nnature of things;\" in essence he is no fallen and corrupt creature, but a\npiece of workmanship such as Shakespeare describes him through the mouth\nof Hamlet. He was shaped to this heroic mould \"by Nature, or rather god,\"\nso the Tudor translation reads, and the use of capital letters, though\nonly a freak of the printer, brings out with a singular suggestiveness the\nlatent pantheism which underlies the thought of all the humanists. To this\nwonderful creature strife and warfare are naturally repugnant. Not only is\nhis frame \"weak and tender,\" but he is \"born to love and amity.\" His chief\nend, the object to which all his highest and most distinctively human\npowers are directed, is cooperant labour in the pursuit of knowledge. War\ncomes out of ignorance, and into ignorance it leads; of war comes contempt\nof virtue and of godly living. In the age of Machiavelli the word \"virtue\"\nhad a double and sinister meaning; but here it is taken in its nobler\nsense. Yet, the argument continues, for \"virtue,\" even in the Florentine\nstatesman's sense, war gives but little room. It is waged mainly for \"vain\ntitles or childish wrath;\" it does not foster, in those responsible for\nit, any one of the nobler excellences. The argument throughout this part\nof the treatise is, both in its substance and in its ornament, wholly\napart from the dogmas of religion. The furies of war are described as\nrising out of a very pagan hell. The apostrophe of Nature to mankind\nimmediately suggests the spirit as well as the language of Lucretius.\nErasmus had clearly been reading the De Rerum Natura, and borrows some of\nhis finest touches from that miraculous description of the growth of\ncivilization in the fifth book, which is one of the noblest contributions\nof antiquity towards a real conception of the nature of the world and of\nman. The progressive degeneration of morality, because, as its scope\nbecomes higher, practice falls further and further short of it, is\ninsisted upon by both these great thinkers in much the same spirit and\nwith much the same illustrations. The rise of empires, \"of which there was\nnever none yet in any nation, but it was gotten with the great shedding of\nman's blood,\" is seen by both in the same light. But Erasmus passes on to\nthe more expressly religious aspect of the whole matter in the great\ndouble climax with which he crowns his argument, the wickedness of a\nChristian fighting against another man, the horror of a Christian fighting\nagainst another Christian. \"Yea, and with a thing so devilish,\" he breaks\nout in a mingling of intense scorn and profound pity, \"we mingle Christ.\"\n\nFrom this passionate appeal he passes to the praises of peace. Why should\nmen add the horrors of war to all the other miseries and dangers of life?\nWhy should one man's gain be sought only through another's loss? All\nvictories in war are Cadmean; not only from their cost in blood and\ntreasure, but because we are in very truth \"the members of one body,\"\n\"redeemed with Christ's blood.\" Such was the clear, unmistakable teaching\nof our Lord himself, such of his apostles. But the doctrine of Christ has\nbeen \"plied to worldly opinion.\" Worldly men, philosophers following \"the\nsophistries of Aristotle,\" worst of all, divines and theologians\nthemselves, have corrupted the Gospel to the heathenish doctrine that\n\"every man must first provide for himself.\" The very words of Scripture\nare wrested to this abuse. Self-defence is held to excuse any violence.\n\"Peter fought,\" they say, \"in the garden,\"--yes, and that same night he\ndenied his Master! \"But punishment of wrong is a divine ordinance.\" In war\nthe punishment falls on the innocent. \"But the law of nature bids us repel\nviolence by violence.\" What is the law of Christ? \"But may not a prince go\nto war justly for his right?\" Did any war ever lack a title? \"But what of\nwars against the Turk?\" Such wars are of Turk against Turk; let us\novercome evil with good, let us spread the Gospel by doing what the Gospel\ncommands: did Christ say, Hate them that hate you?\n\nThen, with the tact of an accomplished orator, he lets the tension relax,\nand drops to a lower tone. Even apart from all that has been urged, even\nif war were ever justifiable, think of the price that has to be paid for\nit. On this ground alone an unjust peace is far preferable to a just war.\n(These had been the very words of Colet to the king of England.) Men go to\nwar under fine pretexts, but really to get riches, to satisfy hatred, or\nto win the poor glory of destroying. The hatred is but exasperated; the\nglory is won by and for the dregs of mankind; the riches are in the most\nprosperous event swallowed up ten times over. Yet if it be impossible but\nwar should be, if there may be sometimes a \"colour of equity\" in it, and\nif the tyrant's plea, necessity, be ever well-founded, at least, so\nErasmus ends, let it be conducted mercifully. Let us live in fervent\ndesire of the peace that we may not fully attain. Let princes restrain\ntheir peoples; let churchmen above all be peacemakers. So the treatise\npasses to its conclusion with that eulogy of the Medicean pope already\nmentioned, which perhaps was not wholly undeserved. To the modern world\nthe name of Leo X has come down marked with a note of censure or even of\nignominy. It is fair to remember that it did not bear quite the same\naspect to its contemporaries, nor to the ages which immediately followed.\nUnder Rodrigo Borgia it might well seem to others than to the Florentine\nmystic that antichrist was enthroned, and Satan let loose upon earth. The\neight years of Leo's pontificate (1513-21) were at least a period of\noutward splendour and of a refinement hitherto unknown. The corruption,\nhalf veiled by that refinement and splendour, was deep and mortal, but the\ncollapse did not come till later. By comparison with the disastrous reign\nof Clement VII, his bastard cousin, that of Giovanni de' Medici seemed a\nlast gleam of light before blackness descended on the world. Even the\nlicence of a dissolute age was contrasted to its favour with the gloom,\n\"tristitia,\" that settled down over Europe with the great Catholic\nreaction. The age of Leo X has descended to history as the age of Bembo,\nSannazaro, Lascaris, of the Stanze of the Vatican, of Raphael's Sistine\nMadonna and Titian's Assumption; of the conquest of Mexico and the\ncircumnavigation of Magellan; of Magdalen Tower and King's College Chapel.\nIt was an interval of comparative peace before a long epoch of wars more\ncruel and more devastating than any within the memory of men. The general\nEuropean conflagration did not break out until ten years after Erasmus's\ndeath; though it had then long been foreseen as inevitable. But he lived\nto see the conquest of Rhodes by Soliman, the sack of Rome, the breach\nbetween England and the papacy, the ill-omened marriage of Catherine de'\nMedici to the heir of the French throne. Humanism had done all that it\ncould, and failed. In the sanguinary era of one hundred years between the\noutbreak of the civil war in the Empire and the Peace of Westphalia, the\nRenaissance followed the Middle Ages to the grave, and the modern world\nwas born.\n\nThe mere fact of this treatise having been translated into English and\npublished by the king's printer shows, in an age when the literary product\nof England was as yet scanty, that it had some vogue and exercised some\ninfluence. But only a few copies of the work are known to exist; and it\nwas never reprinted. It was not until nearly three centuries later, amid\nthe throes of an European revolution equally vast, that the work was again\npresented in an English dress. Vicesimus Knox, a whig essayist, compiler,\nand publicist of some reputation at the time, was the author of a book\nwhich was published anonymously in 1794 and found some readers in a year\nfilled with great events in both the history and the literature of\nEngland. It was entitled \"Anti-Polemus: or the Plea of Reason, Religion,\nand Humanity against War: a Fragment translated from Erasmus and addressed\nto Aggressors.\" That was the year when the final breach took place in the\nwhig party, and when Pitt initiated his brief and ill-fated policy of\nconciliation in Ireland. It was also the year of two works of enormous\ninfluence over thought, Paley's Evidences and Paine's Age of Reason. Among\nthese great movements Knox's work had but little chance of appealing to a\nwide audience. \"Sed quid ad nos?\" the bitter motto on the title-page,\nprobably expressed the feelings with which it was generally regarded. A\nversion of the treatise against war, made from the Latin text of the\nAdagia with some omissions, is the main substance of the volume; and Knox\nadded a few extracts from other writings of Erasmus on the same subject.\nIt does not appear to have been reprinted in England, except in a\ncollected edition of Knox's works which may be found on the dustiest\nshelves of old-fashioned libraries, until, after the close of the\nNapoleonic wars, it was again published as a tract by the Society for the\nPromotion of Permanent and Universal Peace. Some half dozen impressions of\nthis tract appeared at intervals up to the middle of the century; its\npublication passed into the hands of the Society of Friends, and the last\nissue of which any record can be found was made just before the outbreak\nof the Crimean war. But in 1813 an abridged edition was printed at New\nYork, and was one of the books which influenced the great movement towards\nhumanity then stirring in the young Republic.\n\nAt the present day, the reactionary wave which has overspread the world\nhas led, both in England and America, to a new glorification of war. Peace\nis on the lips of governments and of individuals, but beneath the smooth\nsurface the same passions, draped as they always have been under fine\nnames, are a menace to progress and to the higher life of mankind. The\nincrease of armaments, the glorification of the military life, the\nfanaticism which regards organized robbery and murder as a sacred imperial\nmission, are the fruits of a spirit which has fallen as far below the\nstandard of humanism as it has left behind it the precepts of a still\noutwardly acknowledged religion. At such a time the noble pleading of\nErasmus has more than a merely literary or antiquarian interest. For the\nappeal of humanism still is, as it was then, to the dignity of human\nnature itself.\n\nJ. W. Mackail\n\n\n\n\nAGAINST WAR\n\n\n\n\nDULCE BELLUM INEXPERTIS\n\n\nIt is both an elegant proverb, and among all others, by the writings of\nmany excellent authors, full often and solemnly used, Dulce bellum\ninexpertis, that is to say, War is sweet to them that know it not. There\nbe some things among mortal men's businesses, in the which how great\ndanger and hurt there is, a man cannot perceive till he make a proof. The\nlove and friendship of a great man is sweet to them that be not expert: he\nthat hath had thereof experience, is afraid. It seemeth to be a gay and a\nglorious thing, to strut up and down among the nobles of the court, and to\nbe occupied in the king's business; but old men, to whom that thing by\nlong experience is well known, do gladly abstain themselves from such\nfelicity. It seemeth a pleasant thing to be in love with a young damsel;\nbut that is unto them that have not yet perceived how much grief and\nbitterness is in such love. So after this manner of fashion, this proverb\nmay be applied to every business that is adjoined with great peril and\nwith many evils: the which no man will take on hand, but he that is young\nand wanteth experience of things.\n\nAristotle, in his book of Rhetoric, showeth the cause why youth is more\nbold, and contrariwise old age more fearful: for unto young men lack of\nexperience is cause of great boldness, and to the other, experience of\nmany griefs engendereth fear and doubting. Then if there be anything in\nthe world that should be taken in hand with fear and doubting, yea, that\nought by all manner of means to be fled, to be withstood with prayer, and\nto be clean avoided, verily it is war; than which nothing is either more\nwicked, or more wretched, or that more farther destroyeth, or that never\nhand cleaveth sorer to, or doth more hurt, or is more horrible, and\nbriefly to speak, nothing doth worse become a man (I will not say a\nChristian man) than war. And yet it is a wonder to speak of, how nowadays\nin every place, how lightly, and how for every trifling matter, it is\ntaken in hand, how outrageously and barbarously it is gested and done, not\nonly of heathen people, but also of Christian men; not only of secular\nmen, but also of priests and bishops; not only of young men and of them\nthat have no experience, but also of old men and of those that so often\nhave had experience; not only of the common and movable vulgar people, but\nmost specially of the princes, whose duty had been, by wisdom and reason,\nto set in a good order and to pacify the light and hasty movings of the\nfoolish multitude. Nor there lack neither lawyers, nor yet divines, the\nwhich are ready with their firebrands to kindle these things so\nabominable, and they encourage them that else were cold, and they privily\nprovoke those to it that were weary thereof. And by these means it is come\nto that pass that war is a thing now so well accepted, that men wonder at\nhim that is not pleased therewith. It is so much approved, that it is\ncounted a wicked thing (and I had almost said heresy) to reprove this one\nthing, the which as it is above all other things most mischievous, so it\nis most wretched. But how more justly should this be wondered at, what\nevil spirit, what pestilence, what mischief, and what madness put first in\nman's mind a thing so beyond measure beastly, that this most pleasant and\nreasonable creature Man, the which Nature hath brought forth to peace and\nbenevolence, which one alone she hath brought forth to the help and\nsuccour of all other, should with so wild wilfulness, with so mad rages,\nrun headlong one to destroy another? At the which thing he shall also much\nmore marvel, whosoever would withdraw his mind from the opinions of the\ncommon people, and will turn it to behold the very pure strength and\nnature of things; and will apart behold with philosophical eyes the image\nof man on the one side, and the picture of war on the other side.\n\nThen first of all if one would consider well but the behaviour and shape\nof man's body shall he not forthwith perceive that Nature, or rather God,\nhath shaped this creature, not to war, but to friendship, not to\ndestruction, but to health, not to wrong, but to kindness and benevolence?\nFor whereas Nature hath armed all other beasts with their own armour, as\nthe violence of the bulls she hath armed with horns, the ramping lion with\nclaws; to the boar she hath given the gnashing tusks; she hath armed the\nelephant with a long trump snout, besides his great huge body and hardness\nof the skin; she hath fenced the crocodile with a skin as hard as a plate;\nto the dolphin fish she hath given fins instead of a dart; the porcupine\nshe defendeth with thorns; the ray and thornback with sharp prickles; to\nthe cock she hath given strong spurs; some she fenceth with a shell, some\nwith a hard hide, as it were thick leather, or bark of a tree; some she\nprovideth to save by swiftness of flight, as doves; and to some she hath\ngiven venom instead of a weapon; to some she hath given a much horrible\nand ugly look, she hath given terrible eyes and grunting voice; and she\nhath also set among some of them continual dissension and debate--man\nalone she hath brought forth all naked, weak, tender, and without any\narmour, with most soft flesh and smooth skin. There is nothing at all in\nall his members that may seem to be ordained to war, or to any violence. I\nwill not say at this time, that where all other beasts, anon as they are\nbrought forth, they are able of themselves to get their food. Man alone\ncometh so forth, that a long season after he is born, he dependeth\naltogether on the help of others. He can neither speak nor go, nor yet\ntake meat; he desireth help only by his infant crying: so that a man may,\nat the least way, by this conject, that this creature alone was born all\nto love and amity, which specially increaseth and is fast knit together by\ngood turns done eftsoons of one to another. And for this cause Nature\nwould, that a man should not so much thank her, for the gift of life,\nwhich she hath given unto him, as he should thank kindness and\nbenevolence, whereby he might evidently understand himself, that he was\naltogether dedicate and bounden to the gods of graces, that is to say, to\nkindness, benevolence, and amity. And besides this Nature hath given unto\nman a countenance not terrible and loathly, as unto other brute beasts;\nbut meek and demure, representing the very tokens of love and benevolence.\nShe hath given him amiable eyes, and in them assured marks of the inward\nmind. She hath ordained him arms to clip and embrace. She hath given him\nthe wit and understanding to kiss: whereby the very minds and hearts of\nmen should be coupled together, even as though they touched each other.\nUnto man alone she hath given laughing, a token of good cheer and\ngladness. To man alone she hath given weeping tears, as it were a pledge\nor token of meekness and mercy. Yea, and she hath given him a voice not\nthreatening and horrible, as unto other brute beasts, but amiable and\npleasant. Nature not yet content with all this, she hath given unto man\nalone the commodity of speech and reasoning: the which things verily may\nspecially both get and nourish benevolence, so that nothing at all should\nbe done among men by violence.\n\nShe hath endued man with hatred of solitariness, and with love of company.\nShe hath utterly sown in man the very seeds of benevolence. She hath so\ndone, that the selfsame thing, that is most wholesome, should be most\nsweet and delectable. For what is more delectable than a friend? And\nagain, what thing is more necessary? Moreover, if a man might lead all his\nlife most profitably without any meddling with other men, yet nothing\nwould seem pleasant without a fellow: except a man would cast off all\nhumanity, and forsaking his own kind would become a beast.\n\nBesides all this, Nature hath endued man with knowledge of liberal\nsciences and a fervent desire of knowledge: which thing as it doth most\nspecially withdraw man's wit from all beastly wildness, so hath it a\nspecial grace to get and knit together love and friendship. For I dare\nboldly say, that neither affinity nor yet kindred doth bind the minds of\nmen together with straiter and surer bands of amity, than doth the\nfellowship of them that be learned in good letters and honest studies.\nAnd above all this, Nature hath divided among men by a marvellous variety\nthe gifts, as well of the soul as of the body, to the intent truly that\nevery man might find in every singular person one thing or other, which\nthey should either love or praise for the excellency thereof; or else\ngreatly desire and make much of it, for the need and profit that cometh\nthereof. Finally she hath endowed man with a spark of a godly mind: so\nthat though he see no reward, yet of his own courage he delighteth to do\nevery man good: for unto God it is most proper and natural, by his\nbenefit, to do everybody good. Else what meaneth it, that we rejoice and\nconceive in our minds no little pleasure when we perceive that any\ncreature is by our means preserved.\n\nMoreover God hath ordained man in this world, as it were the very image of\nhimself, to the intent, that he, as it were a god on earth, should provide\nfor the wealth of all creatures. And this thing the very brute beasts do\nalso perceive, for we may see, that not only the tame beasts, but also the\nleopards, lions, and other more fierce and wild, when they be in any great\njeopardy, they flee to man for succour. So man is, when all things fail,\nthe last refuge to all manner of creatures. He is unto them all the very\nassured altar and sanctuary.\n\nI have here painted out to you the image of man as well as I can. On the\nother side (if it like you) against the figure of Man, let us portray the\nfashion and shape of War.\n\nNow, then, imagine in thy mind, that thou dost behold two hosts of\nbarbarous people, of whom the look is fierce and cruel, and the voice\nhorrible; the terrible and fearful rustling and glistering of their\nharness and weapons; the unlovely murmur of so huge a multitude; the eyes\nsternly menacing; the bloody blasts and terrible sounds of trumpets and\nclarions; the thundering of the guns, no less fearful than thunder indeed,\nbut much more hurtful; the frenzied cry and clamour, the furious and mad\nrunning together, the outrageous slaughter, the cruel chances of them that\nflee and of those that are stricken down and slain, the heaps of\nslaughters, the fields overflowed with blood, the rivers dyed red with\nman's blood. And it chanceth oftentimes, that the brother fighteth with\nthe brother, one kinsman with another, friend against friend; and in that\ncommon furious desire ofttimes one thrusteth his weapon quite through the\nbody of another that never gave him so much as a foul word. Verily, this\ntragedy containeth so many mischiefs, that it would abhor any man's heart\nto speak thereof. I will let pass to speak of the hurts which are in\ncomparison of the other but light and common, as the treading down and\ndestroying of the corn all about, the burning of towns, the villages\nfired, the driving away of cattle, the ravishing of maidens, the old men\nled forth in captivity, the robbing of churches, and all things\nconfounded and full of thefts, pillages, and violence. Neither I will not\nspeak now of those things which are wont to follow the most happy and most\njust war of all.\n\nThe poor commons pillaged, the nobles overcharged; so many old men of\ntheir children bereaved, yea, and slain also in the slaughter of their\nchildren; so many old women destitute, whom sorrow more cruelly slayeth\nthan the weapon itself; so many honest wives become widows, so many\nchildren fatherless, so many lamentable houses, so many rich men brought\nto extreme poverty. And what needeth it here to speak of the destruction\nof good manners, since there is no man but knoweth right well that the\nuniversal pestilence of all mischievous living proceedeth at once from\nwar. Thereof cometh despising of virtue and godly living; thereof cometh,\nthat the laws are neglected and not regarded; thereof cometh a prompt and\na ready stomach, boldly to do every mischievous deed. Out of this fountain\nspring so huge great companies of thieves, robbers, sacrilegers, and\nmurderers. And what is most grievous of all, this mischievous pestilence\ncannot keep herself within her bounds; but after it is begun in some one\ncorner, it doth not only (as a contagious disease) spread abroad and\ninfect the countries near adjoining to it, but also it draweth into that\ncommon tumult and troublous business the countries that be very far off,\neither for need, or by reason of affinity, or else by occasion of some\nleague made. Yea and moreover, one war springeth of another: of a\ndissembled war there cometh war indeed, and of a very small, a right great\nwar hath risen. Nor it chanceth oftentimes none otherwise in these things\nthan it is feigned of the monster, which lay in the lake or pond called\nLerna.\n\nFor these causes, I trow, the old poets, the which most sagely perceived\nthe power and nature of things, and with most meet feignings covertly\nshadowed the same, have left in writing, that war was sent out of hell:\nnor every one of the Furies was not meet and convenient to bring about\nthis business, but the most pestilent and mischievous of them all was\nchosen out for the nonce, which hath a thousand names, and a thousand\ncrafts to do hurt. She being armed with a thousand serpents, bloweth\nbefore her her fiendish trumpet. Pan with furious ruffling encumbereth\nevery place. Bellona shaketh her furious flail. And then the wicked\nfuriousness himself, when he hath undone all knots and broken all bonds,\nrusheth out with bloody mouth horrible to behold.\n\nThe grammarians perceived right well these things, of the which some will,\nthat war have his name by contrary meaning of the word Bellum, that is to\nsay fair, because it hath nothing good nor fair. Nor bellum, that is for\nto say war, is none otherwise called Bellum, that is to say fair, than\nthe furies are called Eumenides, that is to say meek, because they are\nwilful and contrary to all meekness. And some grammarians think rather,\nthat bellum, war, should be derived out of this word Belva, that is for to\nsay, a brute beast: forasmuch as it belongeth to brute beasts, and not\nunto men, to run together, each to destroy each other. But it seemeth to\nme far to pass all wild and all brute beastliness, to fight together with\nweapons.\n\nFirst, for there are many of the brute beasts, each in his kind, that\nagree and live in a gentle fashion together, and they go together in herds\nand flocks, and each helpeth to defend the other. Nor is it the nature of\nall wild beasts to fight, for some are harmless, as does and hares. But\nthey that are the most fierce of all, as lions, wolves, and tigers, do not\nmake war among themselves as we do. One dog eateth not another. The lions,\nthough they be fierce and cruel, yet they fight not among themselves. One\ndragon is in peace with another. And there is agreement among poisonous\nserpents. But unto man there is no wild or cruel beast more hurtful than\nman.\n\nAgain, when the brute beasts fight, they fight with their own natural\narmour: we men, above nature, to the destruction of men, arm ourselves\nwith armour, invented by craft of the devil. Nor the wild beasts are not\ncruel for every cause; but either when hunger maketh them fierce, or else\nwhen they perceive themselves to be hunted and pursued to the death, or\nelse when they fear lest their younglings should take any harm or be\nstolen from them. But (O good Lord) for what trifling causes what\ntragedies of war do we stir up? For most vain titles, for childish wrath,\nfor a wench, yea, and for causes much more scornful than these, we be\ninflamed to fight.\n\nMoreover, when the brute beasts fight, then war is one for one, yea, and\nthat is very short. And when the battle is sorest fought, yet is there not\npast one or two, that goeth away sore wounded. When was it ever heard that\nan hundred thousand brute beasts were slain at one time fighting and\ntearing one another: which thing men do full oft and in many places? And\nbesides this, whereas some wild beasts have natural debate with some other\nthat be of a contrary kind, so again there be some with which they\nlovingly agree in a sure amity. But man with man, and each with other,\nhave among them continual war; nor is there league sure enough among any\nmen. So that whatsoever it be, that hath gone out of kind, it hath gone\nout of kind into a worse fashion, than if Nature herself had engendered\ntherein a malice at the beginning.\n\nWill ye see how beastly, how foul, and how unworthy a thing war is for\nman? Did ye never behold a lion let loose unto a bear? What gapings, what\nroarings, what grisly gnashing, what tearing of their flesh, is there? He\ntrembleth that beholdeth them, yea, though he stand sure and safe enough\nfrom them. But how much more grisly a sight is it, how much more\noutrageous and cruel, to behold man to fight with man, arrayed with so\nmuch armour, and with so many weapons? I beseech you, who would believe\nthat they were men, if it were not because war is a thing so much in\ncustom that no man marvelleth at it? Their eyes glow like fire, their\nfaces be pale, their marching forth is like men in a fury, their voice\nscreeching and grunting, their cry and frenzied clamour; all is iron,\ntheir harness and weapons jingling and clattering, and the guns\nthundering. It might have been better suffered, if man, for lack of meat\nand drink, should have fought with man, to the intent he might devour his\nflesh and drink his blood: albeit, it is come also now to that pass, that\nsome there be that do it more of hatred than either for hunger or for\nthirst. But now this same thing is done more cruelly, with weapons\nenvenomed, and with devilish engines. So that nowhere may be perceived any\ntoken of man. Trow ye that Nature could here know it was the same thing,\nthat she sometime had wrought with her own hands? And if any man would\ninform her, that it were man that she beheld in such array, might she not\nwell, with great wondering, say these words?\n\n\"What new manner of pageant is this that I behold? What devil of hell hath\nbrought us forth this monster. There be some that call me a stepmother,\nbecause that among so great heaps of things of my making I have brought\nforth some venomous things (and yet have I ordained the selfsame venomous\nthings for man's behoof); and because I have made some beasts very fierce\nand perilous: and yet is there no beast so wild nor so perilous, but that\nby craft and diligence he may be made tame and gentle. By man's diligent\nlabour the lions have been made tame, the dragons meek, and the bears\nobedient. But what is this, that worse is than any stepmother, which hath\nbrought us forth this new unreasonable brute beast, the pestilence and\nmischief of all this world? One beast alone I brought forth wholly\ndedicate to be benevolent, pleasant, friendly, and wholesome to all other.\nWhat hath chanced, that this creature is changed into such a brute beast?\nI perceive nothing of the creature man, which I myself made. What evil\nspirit hath thus defiled my work? What witch hath bewitched the mind of\nman, and transformed it into such brutishness? What sorceress hath thus\nturned him out of his kindly shape? I command and would that the wretched\ncreature should behold himself in a glass. But, alas, what shall the eyes\nsee, where the mind is away? Yet behold thyself (if thou canst), thou\nfurious warrior, and see if thou mayst by any means recover thyself again.\nFrom whence hast thou that threatening crest upon thy head? From whence\nhast thou that shining helmet? From whence are those iron horns? Whence\ncometh it, that thine elbows are so sharp and piked? Where hadst thou\nthose scales? Where hadst thou those brazen teeth? Of whence are those\nhard plates? Whence are those deadly weapons? From whence cometh to thee\nthis voice more horrible than of a wild beast? What a look and countenance\nhast thou more terrible than of a brute beast? Where hast thou gotten this\nthunder and lightning, both more fearful and hurtful than is the very\nthunder and lightning itself? I formed thee a goodly creature; what came\ninto thy mind, that thou wouldst thus transform thyself into so cruel and\nso beastly fashion, that there is no brute beast so unreasonable in\ncomparison unto man?\"\n\nThese words, and many other such like, I suppose, the Dame Nature, the\nworker of all things, would say. Then since man is such as is showed\nbefore that he is, and that war is such a thing, like as too oft we have\nfelt and known, it seemeth to me no small wonder, what ill spirit, what\ndisease, or what mishap, first put into man's mind, that he would bathe\nhis mortal weapon in the blood of man. It must needs be, that men mounted\nup to so great madness by divers degrees. For there was never man yet (as\nJuvenal saith) that was suddenly most graceless of all. And always things\nthe worst have crept in among men's manners of living, under the shadow\nand shape of goodness. For some time those men that were in the beginning\nof the world led their lives in woods; they went naked, they had no walled\ntowns, nor houses to put their heads in: it happened otherwhile that they\nwere sore grieved and destroyed with wild beasts. Wherefore with them\nfirst of all, men made war, and he was esteemed a mighty strong man, and a\ncaptain, that could best defend mankind from the violence of wild beasts.\nYea, and it seemed to them a thing most equable to strangle the\nstranglers, and to slay the slayers, namely, when the wild beast, not\nprovoked by us for any hurt to them done, would wilfully set upon us. And\nso by reason that this was counted a thing most worthy of praise (for\nhereof it rose that Hercules was made a god), the lusty-stomached young\nmen began all about to hunt and chase the wild beasts, and as a token of\ntheir valiant victory the skins of such beasts as they slew were set up in\nsuch places as the people might behold them. Besides this they were not\ncontented to slay the wild beasts, but they used to wear their skins to\nkeep them from the cold in winter. These were the first slaughters that\nmen used: these were their spoils and robberies. After this, they went so\nfarforth, that they were bold to do a thing which Pythagoras thought to be\nvery wicked; and it might seem to us also a thing monstrous, if custom\nwere not, which hath so great strength in every place: that by custom it\nwas reputed in some countries a much charitable deed if a man would, when\nhis father was very old, first sore beat him, and after thrust him\nheadlong into a pit, and so bereave him of his life, by whom it chanced\nhim to have the gift of life. It was counted a holy thing for a man to\nfeed on the flesh of his own kinsmen and friends. They thought it a goodly\nthing, that a virgin should be made common to the people in the temple of\nVenus. And many other things, more abominable than these: of which if a\nman should now but only speak, every man would abhor to hear him. Surely\nthere is nothing so ungracious, nor nothing so cruel, but men will hold\ntherewith, if it be once approved by custom. Then will ye hear, what a\ndeed they durst at the last do? They were not abashed to eat the carcases\nof the wild beasts that were slain, to tear the unsavoury flesh with their\nteeth, to drink the blood, to suck out the matter of them, and (as Ovid\nsaith) to hide the beasts' bowels within their own. And although at that\ntime it seemed to be an outrageous deed unto them that were of a more mild\nand gentle courage: yet was it generally allowed, and all by reason of\ncustom and commodity. Yet were they not so content. For they went from the\nslaying of noisome wild beasts, to kill the harmless beasts, and such as\ndid no hurt at all. They waxed cruel everywhere upon the poor sheep, a\nbeast without fraud or guile. They slew the hare, for none other offence,\nbut because he was a good fat dish of meat to feed upon. Nor they forbare\nnot to kill the tame ox, which had a long season, with his sore labour,\nnourished the unkind household. They spared no kind of beasts, of fowls,\nnor of fishes. Yea, and the tyranny of gluttony went so farforth that\nthere was no beast anywhere that could be sure from the cruelty of man.\nYea, and custom persuaded this also, that it seemed no cruelty at all to\nslay any manner of beast, whatsoever it was, so they abstained from\nmanslaughter. Now peradventure it lieth in our power to keep out vices,\nthat they enter not upon the manners of men, in like manner as it lieth in\nour power to keep out the sea, that it break not in upon us; but when the\nsea is once broken in, it passeth our power to restrain it within any\nbounds. So either of them both once let in, they will not be ruled, as we\nwould, but run forth headlong whithersoever their own rage carrieth them.\nAnd so after that men had been exercised with such beginnings to\nslaughter, wrath anon enticed man to set upon man, either with staff, or\nwith stone, or else with his fist. For as yet, I think they used no other\nweapons. And now had they learned by the killing of beasts, that man also\nmight soon and easily be slain with little labour. But this cruelty\nremained betwixt singular persons, so that yet there was no great number\nof men that fought together, but as it chanced one man against another.\nAnd besides this, there was no small colour of equity, if a man slew his\nenemy; yea, and shortly after, it was a great praise to a man to slay a\nviolent and a mischievous man, and to rid him out of the world, such\ndevilish and cruel caitiffs, as men say Cacus and Busiris were. For we see\nplainly, that for such causes, Hercules was greatly praised. And in\nprocess of time, many assembled to take part together, either as affinity,\nor as neighbourhood, or kindred bound them. And what is now robbery was\nthen war. And they fought then with stones, or with stakes, a little\nburned at the ends. A little river, a rock, or such other like thing,\nchancing to be between them, made an end of their battle.\n\nIn the mean season, while fierceness by use increaseth, while wrath is\ngrown great, and ambition hot and vehement, by ingenious craft they arm\ntheir furious violence. They devise harness, such as it is, to fence them\nwith. They invent weapons to destroy their enemies with. Thus now by few\nand few, now with greater company, and now armed they begin to fight. Nor\nto this manifest madness they forget not to give honour. For they call it\nBellum, that is to say, a fair thing; yea, and they repute it a virtuous\ndeed, if a man, with the jeopardy of his own life, manly resist and defend\nfrom the violence of his enemies, his wife, children, beasts, and\nhousehold. And by little and little, malice grew so great, with the high\nesteeming of other things, that one city began to send defiance and make\nwar to another, country against country, and realm against realm. And\nthough the thing of itself was then most cruel, yet all this while there\nremained in them certain tokens, whereby they might be known for men: for\nsuch goods as by violence were taken away were asked and required again by\nan herald at arms; the gods were called to witness; yea, and when they\nwere ranged in battle, they would reason the matter ere they fought. And\nin the battle they used but homely weapons, nor they used neither guile\nnor deceit, but only strength. It was not lawful for a man to strike his\nenemy till the sign of battle was given; nor was it not lawful to fight\nafter the sounding of the retreat. And for conclusion, they fought more to\nshow their manliness and for praise, than they coveted to slay. Nor all\nthis while they armed them not, but against strangers, the which they\ncalled hostes, as they had been hospites, their guests. Of this rose\nempires, of the which there was never none yet in any nation, but it was\ngotten with the great shedding of man's blood. And since that time there\nhath followed continual course of war, while one eftsoons laboureth to put\nanother out of his empire, and to set himself in. After all this, when the\nempires came once into their hands that were most ungracious of all other,\nthey made war upon whosoever pleased them; nor were they not in greatest\nperil and danger of war that had most deserved to be punished, but they\nthat by fortune had gotten great riches. And now they made not war to get\npraise and fame, but to get the vile muck of the world, or else some other\nthing far worse than that.\n\nI think not the contrary, but that the great, wise man Pythagoras meant\nthese things when he by a proper device of philosophy frightened the\nunlearned multitude of people from the slaying of silly beasts. For he\nperceived, it should at length come to pass, that he which (by no injury\nprovoked) was accustomed to spill the blood of a harmless beast, would in\nhis anger, being provoked by injury, not fear to slay a man.\n\nWar, what other thing else is it than a common manslaughter of many men\ntogether, and a robbery, the which, the farther it sprawleth abroad, the\nmore mischievous it is? But many gross gentlemen nowadays laugh merrily at\nthese things, as though they were the dreams and dotings of schoolmen, the\nwhich, saving the shape, have no point of manhood, yet seem they in their\nown conceit to be gods. And yet of those beginnings, we see we be run so\nfar in madness, that we do naught else all our life-days. We war\ncontinually, city with city, prince with prince, people with people, yea,\nand (it that the heathen people confess to be a wicked thing) cousin with\ncousin, alliance with alliance, brother with brother, the son with the\nfather, yea, and that I esteem more cruel than all these things, a\nChristian man against another man; and yet furthermore, I will say that I\nam very loath to do, which is a thing most cruel of all, one Christian man\nwith another Christian man. Oh, blindness of man's mind! at those things\nno man marvelleth, no man abhorreth them. There be some that rejoice at\nthem, and praise them above the moon: and the thing which is more than\ndevilish, they call a holy thing. Old men, crooked for age, make war,\npriests make war, monks go forth to war; yea, and with a thing so devilish\nwe mingle Christ. The battles ranged, they encounter the one the other,\nbearing before them the sign of the Cross, which thing alone might at the\nleastwise admonish us by what means it should become Christian men to\novercome.\n\nBut we run headlong each to destroy other, even from that heavenly\nsacrifice of the altar, whereby is represented that perfect and ineffable\nknitting together of all Christian men. And of so wicked a thing, we make\nChrist both author and witness. Where is the kingdom of the devil, if it\nbe not in war? Why draw we Christ into war, with whom a brothel-house\nagreeth more than war? Saint Paul disdaineth, that there should be any so\ngreat discord among Christian men, that they should need any judge to\ndiscuss the matter between them. What if he should come and behold us now\nthrough all the world, warring for every light and trifling cause,\nstriving more cruelly than ever did any heathen people, and more cruelly\nthan any barbarous people? Yea, and ye shall see it done by the authority,\nexhortations, and furtherings of those that represent Christ, the prince\nof peace and very bishop that all things knitteth together by peace and of\nthose that salute the people with good luck of peace. Nor is it not\nunknown to me what these unlearned people say (a good while since) against\nme in this matter, whose winnings arise of the common evils. They say\nthus: We make war against our wills: for we be constrained by the\nungracious deeds of other. We make war but for our right. And if there\ncome any hurt thereof, thank them that be causers of it. But let these men\nhold their tongues awhile, and I shall after, in place convenient, avoid\nall their cavillations, and pluck off that false visor wherewith we hide\nall our malice.\n\nBut first as I have above compared man with war, that is to say, the\ncreature most demure with a thing most outrageous, to the intent that\ncruelty might the better be perceived: so will I compare war and peace\ntogether, the thing most wretched, and most mischievous, with the best and\nmost wealthy thing that is. And so at last shall appear, how great madness\nit is, with so great tumult, with so great labours, with such intolerable\nexpenses, with so many calamities, affectionately to desire war: whereas\nagreement might be bought with a far less price.\n\nFirst of all, what in all this world is more sweet or better than amity or\nlove? Truly nothing. And I pray you, what other thing is peace than amity\nand love among men, like as war on the other side is naught else but\ndissension and debate of many men together? And surely the property of\ngood things is such, that the broader they be spread, the more profit and\ncommodity cometh of them. Farther, if the love of one singular person with\nanother be so sweet and delectable, how great should the felicity be if\nrealm with realm, and nation with nation, were coupled together, with the\nband of amity and love? On the other side, the nature of evil things is\nsuch, that the farther they sprawl abroad, the more worthy they are to be\ncalled evil, as they be indeed. Then if it be a wretched thing, if it be\nan ungracious thing, that one man armed should fight with another, how\nmuch more miserable, how much more mischievous is it, that the selfsame\nthing should be done with so many thousands together? By love and peace\nthe small things increase and wax great, by discord and debate the great\nthings decay and come to naught. Peace is the mother and nurse of all good\nthings. War suddenly and at once overthroweth, destroyeth, and utterly\nfordoeth everything that is pleasant and fair, and bringeth in among men a\nmonster of all mischievous things.\n\nIn the time of peace (none otherwise than as if the lusty springtime\nshould show and shine in men's businesses) the fields are tilled, the\ngardens and orchards freshly flourish, the beasts pasture merrily; gay\nmanours in the country are edified, the towns are builded, where as need\nis reparations are done, the buildings are heightened and augmented,\nriches increase, pleasures are nourished, the laws are executed, the\ncommon wealth flourisheth, religion is fervent, right reigneth, gentleness\nis used, craftsmen are busily exercised, the poor men's gain is more\nplentiful, the wealthiness of the rich men is more gay and goodly, the\nstudies of most honest learnings flourish, youth is well taught, the aged\nfolks have quiet and rest, maidens are luckily married, mothers are\npraised for bringing forth of children like to their progenitors, the good\nmen prosper and do well, and the evil men do less offence.\n\nBut as soon as the cruel tempest of war cometh on us, good Lord, how great\na flood of mischiefs occupieth, overfloweth, and drowneth all together.\nThe fair herds of beasts are driven away, the goodly corn is trodden down\nand destroyed, the good husbandmen are slain, the villages are burned up,\nthe most wealthy cities, that have flourished so many winters, with that\none storm are overthrown, destroyed, and brought to naught: so much\nreadier and prompter men are to do hurt than good. The good citizens are\nrobbed and spoiled of their goods by cursed thieves and murderers. Every\nplace is full of fear, of wailing, complaining, and lamenting. The\ncraftsmen stand idle; the poor men must either die for hunger, or fall to\nstealing. The rich men either stand and sorrow for their goods, that be\nplucked and snatched from them, or else they stand in great doubt to lose\nsuch goods as they have left them: so that they be on every side\nwoebegone. The maidens, either they be not married at all, or else if they\nbe married, their marriages are sorrowful and lamentable. Wives, being\ndestitute of their husbands, lie at home without any fruit of children,\nthe laws are laid aside, gentleness is laughed to scorn, right is clean\nexiled, religion is set at naught, hallowed and unhallowed things all are\none, youth is corrupted with all manner of vices, the old folk wail and\nweep, and wish themselves out of the world, there is no honour given unto\nthe study of good letters. Finally, there is no tongue can tell the harm\nand mischief that we feel in war.\n\nPerchance war might be the better suffered, if it made us but only\nwretched and needy; but it maketh us ungracious, and also full of\nunhappiness. And I think Peace likewise should be much made of, if it were\nbut only because it maketh us more wealthy and better in our living. Alas,\nthere be too many already, yea, and more than too many mischiefs and\nevils, with the which the wretched life of man (whether he will or no) is\ncontinually vexed, tormented, and utterly consumed.\n\nIt is near hand two thousand years since the physicians had knowledge of\nthree hundred divers notable sicknesses by name, besides other small\nsicknesses and new, as daily spring among us, and besides age also, which\nis of itself a sickness inevitable.\n\nWe read that in one place whole cities have been destroyed with\nearthquakes. We read, also, that in another place there have been cities\naltogether burnt with lightning; how in another place whole regions have\nbeen swallowed up with opening of the earth, towns by undermining have\nfallen to the ground; so that I need not here to remember what a great\nmultitude of men are daily destroyed by divers chances, which be not\nregarded because they happen so often: as sudden breaking out of the sea\nand of great floods, falling down of hills and houses, poison, wild\nbeasts, meat, drink, and sleep. One hath been strangled with drinking of a\nhair in a draught of milk, another hath been choked with a little\ngrapestone, another with a fishbone sticking in his throat. There hath\nbeen, that sudden joy hath killed out of hand: for it is less wonder of\nthem that die for vehement sorrow. Besides all this, what mortal\npestilence see we in every place. There is no part of the world, that is\nnot subject to peril and danger of man's life, which life of itself also\nis most fugitive. So manifold mischances and evils assail man on every\nside that not without cause Homer did say: Man was the most wretched of\nall creatures living.\n\nBut forasmuch these mischances cannot lightly be eschewed, nor they happen\nnot through our fault, they make us but only wretched, and not ungracious\nwithal. What pleasure is it then for them that be subject already to so\nmany miserable chances, willingly to seek and procure themselves another\nmischief more than they had before, as though they yet wanted misery? Yea,\nthey procure not a light evil, but such an evil that is worse than all the\nothers, so mischievous, that it alone passeth all the others; so abundant,\nthat in itself alone is comprehended all ungraciousness; so pestilent,\nthat it maketh us all alike wicked as wretched, it maketh us full of all\nmisery, and yet not worthy to be pitied.\n\nNow go farther, and with all these things consider, that the commodities\nof Peace spread themselves most far and wide, and pertain unto many men.\nIn war if there happen anything luckily (but, O good Lord, what may we say\nhappeneth well and luckily in war?), it pertaineth to very few, and to\nthem that are unworthy to have it. The prosperity of one is the\ndestruction of another. The enriching of one is the spoil and robbing of\nanother. The triumph of one is the lamentable mourning of another, so that\nas the infelicity is bitter and sharp, the felicity is cruel and bloody.\nHowbeit otherwhile both parties wept according to the proverb, Victoria\nCadmaea, Cadmus victorie, where both parties repented. And I wot not\nwhether it came ever so happily to pass in war, that he that had victory\ndid not repent him of his enterprise, if he were a good man.\n\nThen seeing Peace is the thing above all other most best and most\npleasant, and, contrariwise, war the thing most ungracious and wretched of\nall other, shall we think those men to be in their right minds, the which\nwhen they may obtain Peace with little business and labour will rather\nprocure war with so great labour and most difficulty?\n\nFirst of all consider, how loathly a thing the rumour of war is, when it\nis first spoken of. Then how envious a thing it is unto a prince, while\nwith often tithes and taxes he pillageth his subjects. What a business\nhath he to make and entertain friends to help him? what a business to\nprocure bands of strangers and to hire soldiers?\n\nWhat expenses and labours must he make in setting forth his navy of ships,\nin building and repairing of castles and fortresses, in preparing and\napparelling of his tents and pavilions, in framing, making, and carrying\nof engines, guns, armour, weapons, baggage, carts, and victual? What great\nlabour is spent in making of bulwarks, in casting of ditches, in digging\nof mines, in keeping of watches, in keeping of arrays, and in exercising\nof weapons? I pass over the fear they be in; I speak not of the imminent\ndanger and peril that hangeth over their heads: for what thing in war is\nnot to be feared? What is he that can reckon all the incommodious life\nthat the most foolish soldiers suffer in the field? And for that worthy to\nendure worse, in that they will suffer it willingly. Their meat is so ill\nthat an ox of Cyprus would be loath to eat it; they have but little sleep,\nnor yet that at their own pleasure. Their tents on every side are open on\nthe wind. What, a tent? No, no; they must all the day long, be it hot or\ncold, wet or dry, stand in the open air, sleep on the bare ground, stand\nin their harness. They must suffer hunger, thirst, cold, heat, dust,\nshowers; they must be obedient to their captains; sometimes they be\nclapped on the pate with a warder or a truncheon: so that there is no\nbondage so vile as the bondage of soldiers.\n\nBesides all this, at the sorrowful sign given to fight, they must run\nheadlong to death: for either they must slay cruelly, or be slain\nwretchedly. So many sorrowful labours must they take in hand, that they\nmay bring to pass that thing which is most wretched of all other. With so\nmany great miseries we must first afflict and grieve our own self, that we\nmay afflict and grieve other!\n\nNow if we would call this matter to account, and justly reckon how much\nwar will cost, and how much peace, surely we shall find that peace may be\ngot and obtained with the tenth part of the cares, labours, griefs,\nperils, expenses, and spilling of blood, with which the war is procured.\nSo great a company of men, to their extreme perils, ye lead out of the\nrealm to overthrow and destroy some one town: and with the labour of the\nselfsame men, and without any peril at all, another town, much more noble\nand goodly, might be new edified and builded. But you say, you will hurt\nand grieve your enemy: so even that doing is against humanity.\nNevertheless, this I would ye should consider, that ye cannot hurt and\ngrieve your enemies, but ye must first greatly hurt your own people. And\nit seemeth a point of a madman, to enterprise where he is sure and certain\nof so great hurt and damage, and is uncertain which way the chance of war\nwill turn.\n\nBut admit, that either foolishness, or wrath, or ambition, or\ncovetousness, or outrageous cruelty, or else (which I think more like) the\nfuries sent from hell, should ravish and draw the heathen people to this\nmadness. Yet from whence cometh it into our minds, that one Christian man\nshould draw his weapon to bathe it in another Christian man's blood? It is\ncalled parricide, if the one brother slay the other. And yet is a\nChristian man nearer joined to another than is one brother to another:\nexcept the bonds of nature be stronger than the bonds of Christ. What\nabominable thing, then, is it to see them almost continually fighting\namong themselves, the which are the inhabitants of one house the Church,\nwhich rejoice and say, that they all be the members of one body, and that\nhave one head, which truly is Christ; they have all one Father in heaven;\nthey are all taught and comforted by one Holy Spirit; they profess the\nreligion of Christ all under one manner; they are all redeemed with\nChrist's blood; they are all newborn at the holy font; they use alike\nsacraments; they be all soldiers under one captain; they are all fed with\none heavenly bread; they drink all of one spiritual cup; they have one\ncommon enemy the devil; finally, they be all called to one inheritance.\nWhere be they so many sacraments of perfect concord? Where be the\ninnumerable teachings of peace? There is one special precept, which Christ\ncalled his, that is, Charity. And what thing is so repugnant to charity as\nwar? Christ saluted his disciples with the blessed luck of peace. Unto his\ndisciples he gave nothing save peace, saving peace he left them nothing.\nIn those holy prayers, he specially prayed the Father of heaven, that in\nlike manner as he was one with the Father, so all his, that is to say,\nChristian men, should be one with him. Lo, here you may perceive a thing\nmore than peace, more than amity, more than concord.\n\nSolomon bare the figure of Christ: for Solomon in the Hebrew tongue\nsignifieth peaceable or peaceful. Him God would have to build his temple.\nAt the birth of Christ the angels proclaimed neither war nor triumphs, but\npeace they sang. And before his birth the prophet David prophesied thus of\nhim: Et factus est in pace locus ejus, that is to say, His dwelling place\nis made in peace. Search all the whole life of Christ, and ye shall never\nfind thing that breathes not of peace, that signifieth not amity, that\nsavoureth not of charity. And because he perceived peace could not well be\nkept, except men would utterly despise all those things for which the\nworld so greedily fighteth, he commanded that we should of him learn to be\nmeek. He calleth them blessed and happy that setteth naught by riches, for\nthose he calleth poor in spirit. Blessed be they that despise the\npleasures of this world, the which he calleth mourners. And them blessed\nhe calleth that patiently suffer themselves, to be put out of their\npossessions, knowing that here in this world they are but as outlaws; and\nthe very true country and possession of godly creatures is in heaven. He\ncalleth them blessed which, deserving well of all men, are wrongfully\nblamed and ill afflicted. He forbade that any man should resist evil.\nBriefly, as all his doctrine commandeth sufferance and love, so all his\nlife teacheth nothing else but meekness. So he reigned, so he warred, so\nhe overcame, so he triumphed.\n\nNow the apostles, that had sucked into them the pure spirit of Christ, and\nwere blessedly drunk with that new must of the Holy Ghost, preached\nnothing but meekness and peace. What do all the epistles of Paul sound in\nevery place but peace, but long-suffering, but charity? What speaketh\nSaint John, what rehearseth he so oft, but love? What other thing did\nPeter? What other thing did all the true Christian writers? From whence\nthen cometh all this tumult of wars amongst the children of peace? Think\nye it a fable, that Christ calleth himself a vine tree, and his own the\nbranches? Who did ever see one branch fight with another? Is it in vain\nthat Paul so oft wrote, The Church to be none other thing, than one body\ncompact together of divers members, cleaving to one head, Christ? Whoever\nsaw the eye fight with the hand, or the belly with the foot? In this\nuniversal body, compact of all those unlike things, there is agreement. In\nthe body of a beast, one member is in peace with another, and each member\nuseth not the property thereto given for itself alone, but for the profit\nof all the other members. So that if there come any good to any one member\nalone, it helpeth all the whole body. And may the compaction or knitting\nof Nature do more in the body of a beast, that shortly must perish, than\nthe coupling of the Holy Ghost in the mystical and immortal body of the\nChurch? Do we to no purpose pray as taught by Christ: Good Lord, even as\nthy will is fulfilled in heaven, so let it be fulfilled in the earth? In\nthat city of heaven is concord and peace most perfect. And Christ would\nhave his Church to be none other than a heavenly people in earth, as near\nas might be after the manner of them that are in heaven, ever labouring\nand making haste to go thither, and always having their mind thereon.\n\nNow go to, let us imagine, that there should come some new guest out of\nthe lunar cities, where Empedocles dwelleth, or else out of the\ninnumerable worlds, that Democritus fabricated, into this world, desiring\nto know what the inhabitants do here. And when he was instructed of\neverything, it should at last be told him that, besides all other, there\nis one creature marvellously mingled, of body like to brute beasts and of\nsoul like unto God. And it should also be told him, that this creature is\nso noble, that though he be here an outlaw out of his own country, yet are\nall other beasts at his commandment, the which creature through his\nheavenly beginning inclineth alway to things heavenly and immortal. And\nthat God eternal loved this creature so well, that whereas he could\nneither by the gifts of nature, nor by the strong reasons of philosophy\nattain unto that which he so fervently desired, he sent hither his only\nbegotten son, to the intent to teach this creature a new kind of learning.\nThen as soon as this new guest had perceived well the whole manner of\nChrist's life and precepts, would desire to stand in some high place, from\nwhence he might behold that which he had heard. And when he should see\nall other creatures soberly live according to their kind, and, being led\nby the laws and course of nature, desire nothing but even as Nature would;\nand should see this one special creature man given riotously to tavern\nhaunting, to vile lucre, to buying and selling, chopping and changing, to\nbrawling and fighting one with another, trow ye that he would not think\nthat any of the other creatures were man, of whom he heard so much of\nbefore, rather than he that is indeed man? Then if he that had instructed\nhim afore would show him which creature is man, now would he look about to\nsee if he could spy the Christian flock and company, the which, following\nthe ordinance of that heavenly teacher Christ, should exhibit to him a\nfigure or shape of the evangelical city. Think ye he would not rather\njudge Christians to dwell in any other place than in those countries,\nwherein we see so great superfluity, riot, voluptuousness, pride, tyranny,\ndiscord, brawlings, fightings, wars, tumults, yea, and briefly to speak, a\ngreater puddle of all those things that Christ reproveth than among Turks\nor Saracens? From whence, then, creepeth this pestilence in among\nChristian people? Doubtless this mischief also is come in by little and\nlittle, like as many more other be, ere men be aware of them. For truly\nevery mischief creepeth by little and little upon the good manners of men,\nor else under the colour of goodness it is suddenly received.\n\nSo then first of all, learning and cunning crept in as a thing very meet\nto confound heretics, which defend their opinions with the doctrine of\nphilosophers, poets, and orators. And surely at the beginning of our\nfaith, Christian men did not learn those things; but such as peradventure\nhad learned them, before they knew what Christ meant, they turned the\nthing that they had learned already, into good use.\n\nEloquence of tongue was at the beginning dissembled more than despised,\nbut at length it was openly approved. After that, under colour of\nconfounding heretics, came in an ambitious pleasure of brawling\ndisputations, which hath brought into the Church of Christ no small\nmischief. At length the matter went so farforth that Aristotle was\naltogether received into the middle of divinity, and so received, that his\nauthority is almost reputed holier than the authority of Christ. For if\nChrist spake anything that did little agree with our life, by\ninterpretation of Aristotle it was lawful to make it serve their purpose.\nBut if any do never so little repugn against the high divinity of\nAristotle, he is quickly with clapping of hands driven out of the place.\nFor of him we have learned, that the felicity of man is imperfect, except\nhe have both the good gifts of body and of fortune. Of him we have\nlearned, that no commonweal may flourish, in which all things are\ncommon. And we endeavour ourselves to glue fast together the decrees of\nthis man and the doctrine of Christ--which is as likely a thing as to\nmingle fire and water together. And a gobbet we have received of the civil\nlaws, because of the equity that seemeth to be in them. And to the end\nthey should the better serve our purpose, we have, as near as may be,\nwrithed and plied the doctrine of the gospel to them. Now by the civil law\nit is lawful for a man to defend violence with violence, and each to\npursue for his right. Those laws approve buying and selling; they allow\nusury, so it be measurable; they praise war as a noble thing, so, it be\njust. Finally all the doctrine of Christ is so defiled with the learning\nof logicians, sophisters, astronomers, orators, poets, philosophers,\nlawyers, and gentles, that a man shall spend the most part of his life,\nere he may have any leisure to search holy scripture, to the which when a\nman at last cometh, he must come infected with so many worldly opinions,\nthat either he must be offended with Christ's doctrines, or else he must\napply them to the mind and of them that he hath learned before. And this\nthing is so much approved, that it is now a heinous deed, if a man presume\nto study holy scripture, which hath not buried himself up to the hard ears\nin those trifles, or rather sophistries of Aristotle. As though Christ's\ndoctrine were such, that it were not lawful for all men to know it, or\nelse that it could by any means agree with the wisdom of philosophers.\nBesides this we admitted at the beginning of our faith some honour, which\nafterward we claimed as of duty. Then we received riches, but that was to\ndistribute to relieve poor men, which afterwards we turned to our own use.\nAnd why not, since we have learned by the law civil, that the very order\nof charity is, that every man must first provide for himself? Nor lack\nthere colours to cloak this mischief: first it is a good deed to provide\nfor our children, and it is right that we foresee how to live in age;\nfinally, why should we, say they, give our goods away, if we come by them\nwithout fraud? By these degrees it is by little and little come to pass,\nthat he is taken for the best man that hath most riches: nor never was\nthere more honour given to riches among the heathen people, than is at\nthis day among the Christian people. For what thing is there, either\nspiritual or temporal, that is not done with great show of riches? And it\nseemed a thing agreeable with those ornaments, if Christian men had some\ngreat jurisdiction under them. Nor there wanted not such as gladly\nsubmitted themselves. Albeit at the beginning it was against their wills,\nand scantly would they receive it. And yet with much work, they received\nit so, that they were content with the name and title only: the profit\nthereof they gladly gave unto other men. At the last, little by little\nit came to pass, that a bishop thought himself no bishop, except he had\nsome temporal lordship withal; an abbot thought himself of small\nauthority, if he had not wherewith to play the lordly sire. And in\nconclusion, we blushed never a deal at the matter, we wiped away all\nshamefastness, and shoved aside all the bars of comeliness. And whatever\nabuse was used among the heathen people, were it covetousness, ambition,\nriot, pomp, or pride, or tyranny, the same we follow, in the same we match\nthem, yea, and far pass them. And to pass over the lighter things for the\nwhile, I pray you, was there ever war among the heathen people so long\ncontinually, or more cruelly, than among Christian people? What stormy\nrumblings, what violent brays of war, what tearing of leagues, and what\npiteous slaughters of men have we seen ourselves within these few years?\nWhat nation hath not fought and skirmished with another? And then we go\nand curse the Turk; and what can be a more pleasant sight to the Turks,\nthan to behold us daily each slaying other?\n\nXerxes doted, when he led out of his own country that huge multitude of\npeople to make war upon the Greeks. Trow ye, was he not mad, when he wrote\nletters to the mountain called Athos, threatening that the hill should\nrepent except it obeyed his lust? And the same Xerxes commanded also the\nsea to be beaten, because it was somewhat rough when he should have\nsailed over.\n\nWho will deny but Alexander the Great was mad also? He, the young god,\nwished that there were many worlds, the which he might conquer--so great a\nfever of vainglory had embraced his young lusty courage. And yet these\nsame men, the which Seneca doubted not to call mad thieves, warred after a\ngentler fashion than we do; they were more faithful of their promise in\nwar, nor they used not so mischievous engines in war, nor such crafts and\nsubtleties, nor they warred not for so light causes as we Christian men\ndo. They rejoiced to advance and enrich such provinces as they had\nconquered by war; and the rude people, that lived like wild beasts without\nlaws, learning, or good manners, they taught them both civil conditions\nand crafts, whereby they might live like men. In countries that were not\ninhabited with people, they builded cities, and made them both fair and\nprofitable. And the places that were not very sure, they fenced, for\nsafeguard of the people, with bridges, banks, bulwarks; and with a\nthousand other such commodities they helped the life of man. So that then\nit was right expedient to be overcome. Yea, and how many things read we,\nthat were either wisely done, or soberly spoken of them in the midst of\ntheir wars. As for those things that are done in Christian men's wars they\nare more filthy and cruel than is convenient here to rehearse. Moreover,\nlook what was worst in the heathen peoples' wars, in that we follow them,\nyea, we pass them.\n\nBut now it is worth while to hear, by what means we maintain this our so\ngreat madness. Thus they reason: If it had not been lawful by no means to\nmake war, surely God would never have been the author to the Jews to make\nwar against their enemies. Well said, but we must add hereunto, that the\nJews never made war among themselves, but against strangers and wicked\nmen. We, Christian men, fight with Christian men. Diversity of religion\ncaused the Jews to fight against their enemies: for their enemies\nworshipped not God as they did. We make war oftentimes for a little\nchildish anger, or for hunger of money, or for thirst of glory, or else\nfor filthy meed. The Jews fought by the commandment of God; we make war to\navenge the grief and displeasure of our mind. And nevertheless if men will\nso much lean to the example of the Jews, why do we not then in like manner\nuse circumcision? Why do we not sacrifice with the blood of sheep and\nother beasts? Why do we not abstain from swine's flesh? Why doth not each\nof us wed many wives? Since we abhor those things, why doth the example of\nwar please us so much? Why do we here follow the bare letter that killeth?\nIt was permitted the Jews to make war, but so likewise as they were\nsuffered to depart from their wives, doubtless because of their hard and\nfroward manners. But after Christ commanded the sword to be put up, it is\nunlawful for Christian men to make any other war but that which is the\nfairest war of all, with the most eager and fierce enemies of the Church,\nwith affection of money, with wrath, with ambition, with dread of death.\nThese be our Philistines, these be our Nabuchodonosors, these be our\nMoabites and Ammonites, with the which it behooveth us to have no truce.\nWith these we must continually fight, until (our enemies being utterly\nvanquished) we may be in quiet, for except we may overcome them, there is\nno man that may attain to any true peace, neither with himself, nor yet\nwith no other. For this war alone is cause of true peace. He that\novercometh in this battle, will make war with no man living. Nor I regard\nnot the interpretation that some men make of the two swords, to signify\neither power spiritual or temporal. When Christ suffered Peter to err\npurposely, yea, after he was commanded to put up his sword, no man should\ndoubt but that war was forbidden, which before seemed to be lawful. But\nPeter (say they) fought. True it is, Peter fought; he was yet but a Jew,\nand had not the spirit of a very Christian man. He fought not for his\nlands, or for any such titles of lands as we do, nor yet for his own life,\nbut for his Master's life. And finally, he fought, the which within a\nwhile after forsook his Master. Now if men will needs follow the example\nof Peter that fought, why might they not as well follow the example of\nhim forsaking his Master? And though Peter through simple affection erred,\nyet did his Master rebuke him. For else, if Christ did allow such manner\nof defence, as some most foolishly do interpret, why doth both all the\nlife and doctrine of Christ preach no other thing but sufferance? Why sent\nhe forth his disciples again tyrants, armed with nothing else but with a\nwalking-staff and a scrip? If that sword, which Christ commanded his\ndisciples to sell their coats to buy, be moderate defence against\npersecutors, like as some men do not only wickedly but also blindly\ninterpret, why did the martyrs never use that defence? But (say they) the\nlaw of nature commandeth, it is approved by the laws, and allowed by\ncustom, that we ought to put off from us violence by violence, and that\neach of us should defend his life, and eke his money, when the money (as\nHesiod saith) is as lief as the life. All this I grant, but yet grace, the\nlaw of Christ, that is of more effect than all these things, commandeth\nus, that we should not speak ill to them that speak shrewdly to us; that\nwe should do well to them that do ill to us, and to them that take away\npart of our possessions, we should give the whole; and that we should also\npray for them that imagine our death. But these things (say they)\nappertain to the apostles; yea, they appertain to the universal people of\nChrist, and to the whole body of Christ's Church, that must needs be a\nwhole and a perfect body, although in its gifts one member is more\nexcellent than another. To them the doctrine of Christ appertaineth not,\nthat hope not to have reward with Christ. Let them fight for money and for\nlordships, that laugh to scorn the saying of Christ: Blessed be the poor\nmen in spirit; that is to say, be they poor or rich, blessed be they that\ncovet no riches in this world. They that put all their felicity in these\nriches, they fight gladly to defend their life; but they be those that\nunderstand not this life to be rather a death, nor they perceive not that\neverlasting life is prepared for good men. Now they lay against us divers\nbishops of Rome, the which have been both authors and abettors of warring.\nTrue it is, some such there have been, but they were of late, and in such\ntime as the doctrine of Christ waxed cold. Yea, and they be very few in\ncomparison of the holy fathers that were before them, which with their\nwritings persuade us to flee war. Why are these few examples most in mind?\nWhy turn we our eyes from Christ to men? And why had we rather follow the\nuncertain examples, than the authority that is sure and certain? For\ndoubtless the bishops of Rome were men. And it may be right well, that\nthey were either fools or ungracious caitiffs. And yet we find not that\nany of them approved that we should still continually war after this\nfashion as we do, which thing I could with arguments prove, if I listed\nto digress and tarry thereupon.\n\nSaint Bernard praised warriors, but he so praised them, that he condemned\nall the manner of our warfare. And yet why should the saying of Saint\nBernard, or the disputation of Thomas the Alquine, move me rather than the\ndoctrine of Christ, which commandeth, that we should in no wise resist\nevil, specially under such manner as the common people do resist.\n\nBut it is lawful (say they) that a transgressor be punished and put to\ndeath according to the laws: then is it not lawful for a whole country or\ncity to be revenged by war? What may be answered in this place, is longer\nthan is convenient to reply. But this much will I say, there is a great\ndifference. For the evil-doer, found faulty and convicted, is by authority\nof the laws put to death. In war there is neither part without fault.\nWhereas one singular man doth offend, the punishment falleth only on\nhimself; and the example of the punishment doth good unto all others. In\nwar the most part of the punishment and harm falls upon them that least\ndeserve to be punished; that is, upon husbandmen, old men, honest wives,\nyoung children, and virgins. But if there may any commodity at all be\ngathered of this most mischievous thing, that altogether goeth to the\nbehoof of certain most vengeable thieves, hired soldiers, and strong\nrobbers, and perhaps to a few captains, by whose craft war was raised\nfor that intent, and with which the matter goeth never better than when\nthe commonweal is in most high jeopardy and peril to be lost. Whereas one\nis for his offence grievously punished, it is the wealthy warning of all\nother: but in war to the end to revenge the quarrel of one, or else\nperadventure of a few, we cruelly afflict and grieve many thousands of\nthem that nothing deserved. It were better to leave the offence of a few\nunpunished than while we seek occasion to punish one or two, to bring into\nassured peril and danger, both our neighbours and innocent enemies (we\ncall them our enemies, though they never did us hurt); and yet are we\nuncertain, whether it shall fall on them or not, that we would have\npunished. It is better to let a wound alone, that cannot be cured without\ngrievous hurt and danger of all the whole body, than go about to heal it.\n\nNow if any man will cry out and say: It were against all right, that he\nthat offendeth should not be punished; hereunto I answer, that it is much\nmore against all right and reason, that so many thousands of innocents\nshould be brought into extreme calamity and mischief without deserving.\nAlbeit nowadays we see, that almost all wars spring up I cannot tell of\nwhat titles, and of leagues between princes, that while they go about to\nsubdue to their dominion some one town, they put in jeopardy all their\nwhole empire. And yet within a while after, they sell or give away the\nsame town again, that they got with shedding of so much blood.\n\nPeradventure some man will say: Wouldst not have princes fight for their\nright? I know right well, it is not meet for such a man as I am, to\ndispute overboldly of princes' matters, and though I might do it without\nany danger, yet is it longer than is convenient for this place. But this\nmuch will I say: If each whatsoever title be a cause convenient to go in\nhand with war, there is no man that in so great alterations of men's\naffairs, and in so great variety and changes, can want a title. What\nnation is there that hath not sometime been put out of their own country,\nand also have put other out? How oft have people gone from one country to\nanother? How oft have whole empires been translated from one to another\neither by chance or by league. Let the citizens of Padua claim now again\nin God's name the country of Troy for theirs, because Antenor was sometime\na Trojan. Let the Romans now hardily claim again Africa and Spain, because\nthose provinces were sometime under the Romans. We call that a dominion,\nwhich is but an administration. The power and authority over men, which be\nfree by Nature, and over brute beasts, is not all one. What power and\nsovereignty soever you have, you have it by the consent of the people. And\nif I be not deceived, he that hath authority to give, hath authority to\ntake away again. Will ye see how small a matter it is that we make all\nthis tumult for? The strife is not, whether this city or that should be\nobeisant to a good prince, and not in bondage of a tyrant; but whether\nFerdinand or Sigismund hath the better title to it, whether that city\nought to pay tribute to Philip or to King Louis. This is that noble right,\nfor the which all the world is thus vexed and troubled with wars and\nmanslaughter.\n\nYet go to, suppose that this right or title be as strong and of as great\nauthority as may be; suppose also there be no difference between a private\nfield and a whole city; and admit there be no difference between the\nbeasts that you have bought with your money and men, which be not only\nfree, but also true Christians: yet is it a point for a wise man to cast\nin his mind, whether the thing that you will war for, be of so great\nvalue, that it will recompense the exceedingly great harms and loss of\nyour own people. If ye cannot do in every point as becometh a prince, yet\nat the leastways do as the merchantman doeth: he setteth naught by that\nloss, which he well perceiveth cannot be avoided without a greater loss,\nand he reckoneth it a winning, that fortune hath been against him with his\nso little loss. Or else at the leastwise follow him, of whom there is a\nmerry tale commonly told.\n\nThere were two kinsmen at variance about dividing of certain goods, and\nwhen they could by no means agree, they must go to law together, that in\nconclusion the matter might be ended by sentence of the judges. They got\nthem attorneys, the pleas were drawn, men of law had the matter in hand,\nthey came before the judges, the complaint was entered, the cause was\npleaded, and so was the war begun between them. Anon one of them\nremembering himself, called aside his adversary to him and said on this\nwise: \"First it were a great shame, that a little money should dissever us\ntwain, whom Nature hath knit so near together. Secondly, the end of our\nstrife is uncertain, no less than of war. It is in our hands to begin when\nwe will, but not to make an end. All our strife is but for an hundred\ncrowns, and we shall spend the double thereof upon notaries, upon\npromoters, upon advocates, upon attorneys, upon judges, and upon judges'\nfriends, if we try the law to the uttermost. We must wait upon these men,\nwe must flatter and speak them fair, we must give them rewards. And yet I\nspeak not of the care and thought, nor of the great labour and travail,\nthat we must take to run about here and there to make friends; and which\nof us two that winneth the victory, shall be sure of more incommodity than\nprofit. Wherefore if we be wise, let us rather see to our own profit, and\nthe money that shall be evil bestowed upon these bribers, let us divide it\nbetween us twain. And forgive you the half of that ye think should be your\ndue, and I will forgive as much of mine. And so shall we keep and\npreserve our friendship, which else is like to perish, and we shall also\neschew this great business, cost, and charge. If you be not content to\nforgo anything of your part, I commit the whole matter into your own\nhands; do with it as you will. For I had liefer my friend had this money,\nthan those insatiable thieves. Methinks I have gained enough, if I may\nsave my good name, keep my friend, and avoid this unquiet and chargeable\nbusiness.\" Thus partly the telling of the truth, and partly the merry\nconceit of his kinsman, moved the other man to agree. So they ended the\nmatter between themselves, to the great displeasure of the judges and\nservants, for they, like a sort of gaping ravens, were deluded and put\nbeside their prey.\n\nLet a prince therefore follow the wisdom of these two men, specially in a\nmatter of much more danger. Nor let him not regard what thing it is that\nhe would obtain, but what great loss of good things he shall have, in what\ngreat jeopardies he shall be, and what miseries he must endure, to come\nthereby. Now if a man will weigh, as it were in a pair of balances, the\ncommodities of war on the one side and the incommodities on the other\nside, he shall find that unjust peace is far better than righteous war.\nWhy had we rather have war than peace? Who but a madman will angle with a\ngolden fish-hook? If ye see that the charges and expenses shall amount\nfar above your gain, yea, though all things go according to your mind, is\nit not better that ye forgo part of your right than to buy so little\ncommodity with so innumerable mischiefs? I had liefer that any other man\nhad the title, than I should win it with so great effusion of Christian\nmen's blood. He (whosoever he be) hath now been many years in possession;\nhe is accustomed to rule, his subjects know him, he behaveth him like a\nprince; and one shall come forth, who, finding an old title in some\nhistories or in some blind evidence, will turn clean upside down the quiet\nstate and good order of that commonweal. What availeth it with so great\ntroubling to change any title, which in short space by one chance or other\nmust go to another man? Specially since we might see, that no things in\nthis world continue still in one state, but at the scornful pleasure of\nfortune they roll to and fro, as the waves of the sea. Finally, if\nChristian men cannot despise and set at naught these so light things, yet\nwhereto need they by and by to run to arms? Since there be so many\nbishops, men of great gravity and learning; since there be so many\nvenerable abbots; since there be so many noble men of great age, whom long\nuse and experience of things hath made right wise: why are not these\ntrifling and childish quarrels of princes pacified and set in order by the\nwisdom and discretion of these men? But they seem to make a very honest\nreason of war, which pretend as they would defend the Church: as though\nthe people were not the Church, or as though the Church of Christ was\nbegun, augmented, and stablished with wars and slaughters, and not rather\nin spilling of the blood of martyrs, sufferance, and despising of this\nlife, or as though the whole dignity of the Church rested in the riches of\nthe priests. Nor to me truly it seemeth not so allowable, that we should\nso oft make war upon the Turks. Doubtless it were not well with the\nChristian religion, if the only safeguard thereof should depend on such\nsuccours. Nor it is not likely, that they should be good Christians, that\nby these means are brought thereto at the first. For that thing that is\ngot by war, is again in another time lost by war. Will ye bring the Turks\nto the faith of Christ? Let us not make a show of our gay riches, nor of\nour great number of soldiers, nor of our great strength. Let them see in\nus none of these solemn titles, but the assured tokens of Christian men: a\npure, innocent life; a fervent desire to do well, yea, to our very\nenemies; the despising of money, the neglecting of glory, a poor simple\nlife. Let them hear the heavenly doctrine agreeable to such a manner of\nlife. These are the best armours to subdue the Turks to Christ. Now\noftentimes we, being ill, fight with the evil. Yea, and I shall say\nanother thing (which I would to God were more boldly spoken than truly),\nif we set aside the title and sign of the Cross, we fight Turks against\nTurks. If our religion were first stablished by the might and strength of\nmen of war, if it were confirmed by dint of sword, if it were augmented by\nwar, then let us maintain it by the same means and ways. But if all things\nin our faith were brought to pass by other means, why do we, then (as we\nmistrusted the help of Christ), seek such succour as the heathen people\nuse? But why should we not (say they) kill them that would kill us? So\nthink they it a great dishonour, if other should be more mischievous than\nthey. Why do ye not, then, rob those that have robbed you before? Why do\nye not scold and chide at them that rail at you? Why do ye not hate them\nthat hate you? Trow ye it is a good Christian man's deed to slay a Turk?\nFor be the Turks never so wicked, yet they are men, for whose salvation\nChrist suffered death. And killing Turks we offer to the devil most\npleasant sacrifice, and with that one deed we please our enemy, the devil,\ntwice: first because a man is slain, and again, because a Christian man\nslew him. There be many, which desiring to seem good Christian men, study\nto hurt and grieve the Turks all that ever they may; and where they be not\nable to do anything, they curse and ban, and bid a mischief upon them. Now\nby the same one point a man may perceive, that they be far from good\nChristian men. Succour the Turks, and where they be wicked, make them good\nif ye can; if ye cannot, wish and desire of God they may have grace to\nturn to goodness. And he that thus doeth, I will say doeth like a\nChristian man. But of all these things I shall entreat more largely, when\nI set forth my book entitled Antipolemus, which whilom when I was at Rome\nI wrote to Julius, bishop of Rome, the second of that name, at the same\ntime, when he was counselled to make war on the Venetians.\n\nBut there is one thing which is more to be lamented then reasoned: That if\na man would diligently discuss the matter, he shall find that all the wars\namong us Christian men do spring either of foolishness, or else of malice.\nSome young men without experience, inflamed with the evil examples of\ntheir forefathers, that they find by reading of histories, written of some\nfoolish authors (and besides this being moved with the exhortations of\nflatterers, with the instigation of lawyers, and assenting thereto of the\ndivines, the bishops winking thereat, or peradventure enticing thereunto),\nhave rather of foolhardiness than of malice, gone in hand with war; and\nwith the great hurt and damage of all this world they learn, that war is a\nthing that should be by all means and ways fled and eschewed. Some other\nare moved by privy hatred, ambition causeth some, and some are stirred by\nfierceness of mind to make war. For truly there is almost now no other\nthing in our cities and commonweals than is contained in Homer's work\nIliad, The wrath of indiscreet princes and people.\n\nThere be those who for no other cause stir up war but to the intent they\nmay by that means the more easily exercise tyranny on their subjects. For\nin the time of peace, the authority of the council, the dignity of the\nrulers, the vigour and strength of the laws, do somewhat hinder, that a\nprince cannot do all that him listeth; but as soon as war is once begun,\nnow all the handling of matters resteth in the pleasure of a few persons.\nThey that the prince favoureth are lifted up aloft, and they that be in\nhis displeasure, go down. They exact as much money as pleaseth them. What\nneed many words? Then they think themselves, that they be the greatest\nprinces of the world. In the meantime the captains sport and play\ntogether, till they have gnawed the poor people to the hard bones. And\nthink ye that it will grieve them, that be of this mind, to enter lightly\ninto war, when any cause is offered? Besides all this, it is worth while\nto see by what means we colour our fault. I pretend the defence of our\nreligion, but my mind is to get the great riches that the Turk hath. Under\ncolour to defend the Church's right, I purpose to revenge the hatred that\nI have in my stomach. I incline to ambition, I follow my wrath; my cruel,\nfierce and unbridled mind compelleth me; and yet will I find a cavillation\nand say, the league is not kept, or friendship is broken, or something\n(I wot not what myself) concerning the laws of matrimony is omitted. And\nit is a wonder to speak, how they never obtain the very thing that they so\ngreatly desire. And while they foolishly labour to eschew this mischief or\nthat, they fall into another much worse, or else deeper into the same. And\nsurely if desire of glory causeth them thus to do, it is a thing much more\nmagnificent and glorious to save than to destroy; much more gay and goodly\nto build a city than to overthrow and destroy a city.\n\nFurthermore admit that the victory in battle is got most prosperously, yet\nhow small a portion of the glory shall go unto the prince: the commons\nwill claim a great part of it, by the help of whose money the deed was\ndone; foreign soldiers, that are hired for money, will challenge much more\nthan the commons; the captains look to have very much of that glory; and\nfortune has the most of all, which striking a great stroke in every\nmatter, in war may do most of all. If it come of a noble courage or stout\nstomach, that you be moved to make war: see, I pray you, how far wide ye\nbe from your purpose. For while ye will not be seen to bow to one man, as\nto a prince your neighbour, peradventure of your alliance, who may by\nfortune have done you good: how much more abjectly must ye bow yourself,\nwhat time ye seek aid and help of barbarous people; yea, and, what is more\nunworthy, of such men as are defiled with all mischievous deeds, if we\nmust needs call such kind of monsters men? Meanwhile ye go about to allure\nunto you with fair words and promises, ravishers of virgins and of\nreligious women, men-killers, stout robbers and rovers (for these be thy\nspecial men of war). And while you labour to be somewhat cruel and\nsuperior over your equal, you are constrained to submit yourselves to the\nvery dregs of all men living. And while ye go about to drive your\nneighbour out of his land, ye must needs first bring into your own land\nthe most pestilent puddle of unthrifts that can be. You mistrust a prince\nof your own alliance, and will you commit yourself wholly to an armed\nmultitude? How much surer were it to commit yourself to concord!\n\nIf ye will make war because of lucre, take your counters and cast. And I\nwill say, it is better to have war than peace, if ye find not, that not\nonly less, but also uncertain winning is got with inestimable costs.\n\nYe say ye make war for the safeguard of the commonweal, yea, but noway\nsooner nor more unthriftily may the commonweal perish than by war. For\nbefore ye enter into the field, ye have already hurt more your country\nthan ye can do good getting the victory. Ye waste the citizens' goods, ye\nfill the houses with lamentation, ye fill all the country with thieves,\nrobbers, and ravishers. For these are the relics of war. And whereas\nbefore ye might have enjoyed all France, ye shut yourselves from many\nregions thereof. If ye love your own subjects truly, why revolve you not\nin mind these words: Why shall I put so many, in their lusty, flourishing\nyouth, in all mischiefs and perils? Why shall I depart so many honest\nwives and their husbands, and make so many fatherless children? Why shall\nI claim a title I know not, and a doubtful right, with spilling of my\nsubjects' blood? We have seen in our time, that in war made under colour\nof defence of the Church, the priests have been so often pillaged with\ncontributions, that no enemy might do more. So that while we go about\nfoolishly to escape falling in the ditch, while we cannot suffer a light\ninjury, we afflict ourselves with most grievous despites. While we be\nashamed of gentleness to bow to a prince, we be fain to please people most\nbase. While we indiscreetly covet liberty, we entangle ourselves in most\ngrievous bondage. While we hunt after a little lucre, we grieve ourselves\nand ours with inestimable harness. It had been a point of a prudent\nChristian man (if he be a true Christian man) by all manner of means to\nhave fled, to have shunned, and by prayer to have withstood so fiendish a\nthing, and so far both from the life and doctrine of Christ. But if it can\nby no means be eschewed, by reason of the ungraciousness of many men, when\nye have essayed every way, and that ye have for peace sake left no stone\nunturned, then the next way is, that ye do your diligence that so ill a\nthing may be gested and done by them that be evil, and that it be achieved\nwith as little effusion of man's blood as can be.\n\nNow if we endeavour to be the selfsame thing that we hear ourselves\ncalled,--that is, good Christian men,--we shall little esteem any worldly\nthing, nor yet ambitiously covet anything of this world. For if we set all\nour mind, that we may lightly and purely part hence; if we incline wholly\nto heavenly things; if we pitch all our felicity in Christ alone; if we\nbelieve all that is truly good, truly gay and glorious, truly joyful, to\nremain in Christ alone; if we thoroughly think that a godly man can of no\nman be hurt; if we ponder how vain and vanishing are the scornful things\nof this world; if we inwardly behold how hard a thing it is for a man to\nbe in a manner transformed into a god, and so here, with continual and\nindefatigable meditation, to be purged from all infections of this world,\nthat within a while the husk of this body being cast off, it may pass\nhence to the company of angels; finally, if we surely have these three\nthings, without which none is worthy of the name of a Christian\nman,--Innocency, that we may be pure from all vices; Charity, that we may\ndo good, as near as we can, to every man; Patience, that we may suffer\nthem that do us ill, and, if we can, with good deeds overcome wrongs to us\ndone: I pray you, what war can there be among us for trifles? If it be\nbut a tale that is told of Christ, why do we not openly put him out of our\ncompany? Why should we glory in his title? But if he be, as he is in very\ndeed, the true way, the very truth, and the very life, why doth all the\nmanner of our living differ so far asunder from the true example of him?\nIf we acknowledge and take Christ for our author, which is very Charity,\nand neither taught nor gave other thing but charity and peace, then go to,\nlet us not in titles and signs, but in our deeds and living, plainly\nexpress him. Let us have in our hearts a fervent desire of peace, that\nChrist may again know us for his. To this intent the princes, the\nprelates, and the cities and commonalties should apply their counsels.\nThere hath been hitherto enough spilt of Christian man's blood. We have\nshowed pleasure enough to the enemies of the Christian religion. And if\nthe common people, as they are wont, make any disturbance, let the princes\nbridle and quail them, which princes ought to be the selfsame thing in the\ncommonweal that the eye is in the body, and the reason in the soul. Again,\nif the princes make any trouble, it is the part of good prelates by their\nwisdom and gravity to pacify and assuage such commotion. Or else, at the\nleast, we being satiate with continual wars, let the desire of peace a\nlittle move us. The bishop exhorteth us (if ever any bishop did Leo the\nTenth doth, which occupieth the room of our peaceable Solomon, for all his\ndesire, all his intent and labour, is for this intent) that they whom\none common faith hath coupled together, should be joined in one common\nconcord. He laboureth that the Church of Christ should flourish, not in\nriches or lordships, but in her own proper virtues. Surely this is a right\ngoodly act, and well beseeming a man descended of such a noble lineage as\nthe Medici: by whose civil prudence the noble city of Florence most\nfreshly flourished in long-continued peace; whose house of Medici hath\nbeen a help unto all good letters. Leo himself, having alway a sober and a\ngentle wit, giving himself from his tender youth to good letters of\nhumanity, was ever brought up, as it were, in the lap of the Muses, among\nmen most highly learned. He so faultless led his life, that even in the\ncity of Rome, where is most liberty of vice, was of him no evil rumour,\nand so governing himself came to the dignity to be bishop there, which\ndignity he never coveted, but was chosen thereto when he least thought\nthereon, by the provision of God to help to redress things in great decay\nby long wars. Let Julius the bishop have his glory of war, victories, and\nof his great triumphs, the which how evil they beseem a Christian bishop,\nit is not for such a one as I am to declare. I will this say, his glory,\nwhatsoever it be, was mixed with the great destruction and grievous sorrow\nof many a creature. But by peace restored now to the world, Leo shall get\nmore true glory than Julius won by so many wars that he either boldly\nbegun, or prosperously fought and achieved.\n\nBut they that had liefer hear of proverbs, than either of peace or of war,\nwill think that I have tarried longer about this digression than is meet\nfor the declaration of a proverb.\n\n\nFINIS\n\n\n  OF THIS VOLUME\n  WHICH IS EDITED BY JOHN W. MACKAIL\n  WITH TYPES & DECORATIONS\n  BY HERBERT P. HORNE\n  CCCIII COPIES WERE\n  PRINTED\n\n  [Illustration: OPTIMUM\n  VIX SATIS]\n\n  BY D. B. UPDIKE\n  AT THE MERRYMOUNT PRESS\n  BOSTON MASSACHUSETTS\n  IN THE MONTH OF\n  AUGUST\n  MCM\n  VII","title":"Erasmus Against War","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":22684}