Kitabı oku: «The Colloquies of Erasmus, Volume I», sayfa 26

Phi. Balbinus was wonderful liberal, as you tell the Story.

La. Nay, in an honest Cause, you would sooner have gotten his Teeth out of his Head than Money. Well, then the Alchymist was provided for, who was in no Danger, but that of wanting Money for his Wench.

Phi. I admire Balbinus could not smoak the Roguery all this While.

La. This is the only Thing that he's soft in, he's as sharp as a Needle in any Thing else. Now the Furnace is set to work again with new Money; but first, a short Prayer is made to the Virgin Mary to prosper their Undertakings. By this Time there had been a whole Year spent, first one Obstacle being pretended, and then another, so that all the Expence and Labour was lost. In the mean Time there fell out one most ridiculous Chance.

Phi. What was that?

La. The Alchymist had a criminal Correspondence with a certain Courtier's Lady: The Husband beginning to be jealous, watch'd him narrowly, and in the Conclusion, having Intelligence that the Priest was in the Bed-Chamber, he comes Home before he was look'd for, knocks at the Door.

Phi. What did he design to do to him?

La. What! Why nothing very good, either kill him or geld him. When the Husband being very pressing to come, threatned he would break open the Door, if his Wife did not open it, they were in bodily Fear within, and cast about for some present Resolution; and Circumstances admitting no better, he pull'd off his Coat, and threw himself out of a narrow Window, but not without both Danger and Mischief, and so got away. Such Stories as these you know are soon spread, and it came to Balbinus's Ear, and the Chymist guess'd it would be so.

Phi. There was no getting off of this Business.

La. Yes, he got off better here, than he did out at the Window. Hear the Man's Invention: Balbinus said not a Word to him about the Matter, but it might be read in his Countenance, that he was no Stranger to the Talk of the Town. The Chymist knew Balbinus to be a Man of Piety, and in some Points, I was going to say, superstitious, and such Persons are very ready to forgive one that falls under his Crime, let it be never so great; therefore, he on Purpose begins a Talk about the Success of their Business, complaining, that it had not succeeded as it us'd to do, and as he would have it; and he-wondered greatly, what should be the Reason of it: Upon this Discourse, Balbinus, who seemed otherwise to have been bent upon Silence, taking an Occasion, was a little moved: It is no hard Matter, says he, to guess what the Obstacle is. Sins are the Obstacles that hinder our Success, for pure Works should be done by pure Persons. At this Word, the Projector fell down on his Knees, and beating his Breast with a very mournful Tone, and dejected Countenance, says, O Balbinus, what you have said is very true, it is Sin, it is Sin that has been the Hinderance; but my Sins, not yours; for I am not asham'd to confess my Uncleanness before you, as I would before my most holy Father Confessor: The Frailty of my Flesh overcame me, and Satan drew me into his Snares; and O miserable Wretch that I am! Of a Priest, I am become an Adulterer; and yet, the Offering that you sent to the Virgin Mother, is not wholly lost neither, for I had perish'd inevitably, if she had not helped me; for the Husband broke open the Door upon me, and the Window was too little for me to get out at; and in this Pinch of Danger, I bethought myself of the blessed Virgin, and I fell upon my Knees, and besought her, that if the Gift was acceptable to her, she would assist me, and in a Minute I went to the Window, (for Necessity forced me so to do) and found it large enough for me to get out at.

Phi. Well, and did Balbinus believe all this?

La. Believe it, yes, and pardon'd him too, and admonish'd him very religiously, not to be ungrateful to the blessed Virgin: Nay, there was more Money laid down, upon his giving his Promise, that he would for the future carry on the Process with Purity.

Phi. Well, what was the End of all this?

La. The Story is very long; but I'll cut it short. When he had play'd upon Balbinus long enough with these Inventions, and wheedled him out of a considerable Sum of Money, a certain Gentleman happen'd to come there, that had known the Knave from a Child: He easily imagining that he was acting the same Part with Balbinus, that he had been acting every where, admonishes Balbinus privately, and acquainted him what Sort of a Fellow he harbour'd, advising him to get rid of him as soon as possible, unless he had a Mind to have him sometime or other, to rifle his Coffers, and then run away.

Phi. Well, what did Balbinus do then? Sure, he took Care to have him sent to Gaol?

La. To Gaol? Nay, he gave him Money to bear his Charges, and conjur'd him by all that was sacred, not to speak a Word of what had happened between them. And in my Opinion, it was his Wisdom so to do, rather than to be the common Laughing-stock, and Table-Talk, and run the Risk of the Confiscation of his Goods besides; for the Imposter was in no Danger; he knew no more of the Matter than an Ass, and cheating is a small Fault in these Sort of Cattle. If he had charg'd him with Theft, his Ordination would have say'd him from the Gallows, and no Body would have been at the Charge of maintaining such a Fellow in Prison.

Phi. I should pity Balbinus; but that he took Pleasure in being gull'd.

La. I must now make haste to the Hall; at another Time I'll tell you Stories more ridiculous than this.

Phi. When you shall be at Leisure, I shall be glad to hear them, and I'll give you Story for Story.

THE HORSE-CHEAT

The ARGUMENT

The Horse-Cheat lays open the cheating Tricks of those that sell or let out Horses to hire; and shews how those Cheats themselves are sometimes cheated.

AULUS, PHÆDRUS.

Good God! What a grave Countenance our Phaedrus has put on, gaping ever and anon into the Air. I'll attack him. Phaedrus, what News to Day?

Ph. Why do you ask me that Question, Aulus?

Aul. Because, of a Phaedrus, you seem to have become a Cato, there is so much Sourness in your Countenance.

Ph. That's no Wonder, my Friend, I am just come from Confession.

Aul. Nay, then my Wonder's over; but tell me upon your honest Word, did you confess all?

Ph. All that I could remember, but one.

Aul. And why did you reserve that one?

Ph. Because I can't be out of Love with it.

Aul. It must needs be some pleasant Sin.

Ph. I can't tell whether it is a Sin or no; but if you are at Leisure, you shall hear what it is.

Aul. I would be glad to hear it, with all my Heart.

Ph. You know what cheating Tricks are play'd by our Jockeys, who sell and let out Horses.

Aul. Yes, I know more of them than I wish I did, having been cheated by them more than once.

Ph. I had Occasion lately to go a pretty long Journey, and I was in great Haste; I went to one that you would have said was none of the worst of 'em, and there was some small Matter of Friendship between us. I told him I had an urgent Business to do, and had Occasion for a strong able Gelding; desiring, that if he would ever be my Friend in any Thing, he would be so now. He promised me, that he would use me as kindly as if I were his own dear Brother.

Aul. It may be he would have cheated his Brother.

Ph. He leads me into the Stable, and bids me chuse which I would out of them all. At last I pitch'd upon one that I lik'd better than the rest. He commends my Judgment, protesting that a great many Persons had had a Mind to that Horse; but he resolved to keep him rather for a singular Friend, than sell him to a Stranger. I agreed with him as to the Price, paid him down his Money, got upon the Horse's Back. Upon the first setting out, my Steed falls a prancing; you would have said he was a Horse of Mettle; he was plump, and in good Case: But, by that Time I had rid him an Hour and a half, I perceiv'd he was downright tir'd, nor could I by spurring him, get him any further. I had heard that such Jades had been kept for Cheats, that you would take by their Looks to be very good Horses; but were worth nothing for Service. I says to myself presently, I am caught. But when I come Home again, I will shew him Trick for Trick.

Aul. But what did you do in this Case, being a Horseman without a Horse?

Ph. I did what I was oblig'd to do. I turn'd into the next Village, and there I set my Horse up privately, with an Acquaintance, and hired another, and prosecuted my Journey; and when I came back, I return'd my hired Horse, and finding my own in very good Case, and thoroughly rested, I mounted his Back, and rid back to the Horse-Courser, desiring him to set him up for a few Days, till I called for him again. He ask'd me how well he carry'd me; I swore by all that was good, that I never bestrid a better Nag in my Life, that he flew rather than walk'd, nor ever tir'd the least in the World in all so long a Journey, nor was a Hair the leaner for it. I having made him believe that these Things were true, he thought with himself, he had been mistaken in this Horse; and therefore, before I went away, he ask'd me if I would sell the Horse. I refus'd at first; because if I should have Occasion to go such another Journey, I should not easily get the Fellow of him; but however, I valued nothing so much, but I would sell it, if I could have a good Price for it, altho' any Body had a Mind to buy myself.

Aul. This was fighting a Man with his own Weapons.

Ph. In short, he would not let me go away, before I had set a Price upon him. I rated him at a great Deal more than he cost me. Being gone, I got an Acquaintance to act for me, and gave him Instructions how to behave himself: He goes to the House, and calls for the Horse-Courser, telling him, that he had Occasion for a very good, and a very hardy Nag. The Horse-Courser shews him a great many Horses, still commending the worst most of all; but says not a Word of that Horse he had sold me, verily believing he was such as I had represented him. My Friend presently ask'd whether that was not to be sold; for I had given him a Description of the Horse, and the Place where he stood. The Horse-Courser at first made no Answer, but commended the rest very highly. The Gentleman lik'd the other Horses pretty well; but always treated about that very Horse: At last thinks the Horse-Courser with himself, I have certainly been out in my Judgment as to this Horse, if this Stranger could presently pick this Horse out of so many. He insisting upon it, He may be sold, says he; but it may be, you'll be frighted at the Price. The Price, says he, is a Case of no great Importance, if the Goodness of the Thing be answerable: Tell me the Price. He told him something more than I had set him at to him, getting the Overplus to himself. At last the Price was agreed on, and a good large Earnest was given, a Ducat of Gold to bind the Bargain. The Purchaser gives the Hostler a Groat, orders him to give his Horse some Corn, and he would come by and by, and fetch him. As soon as ever I heard the Bargain was made so firmly, that it could not be undone again, I go immediately, booted and spurr'd to the Horse-Courser, and being out of Breath, calls for my Horse. He comes and asks what I wanted: Says I, get my Horse ready presently, for I must be gone this Moment, upon an extraordinary Affair: But, says he, you bid me keep the Horse a few Days: That's true, said I, but this Business has happened unexpectedly, and it is the King's Business, and it will admit of no Delay. Says he, take your Choice, which you will of all my Horses; you cannot have your own. I ask'd him, why so? Because, says he, he is sold. Then I pretended to be in a great Passion; God forbid, says I; as this Journey has happen'd, I would not sell him, if any Man would offer me four Times his Price. I fell to wrangling, and cry out, I am ruin'd: At Length he grew a little warm too: What Occasion is there for all this Contention: You set a Price upon your Horse, and I have sold him; if I pay you your Money, you have nothing more to do to me; we have Laws in this City, and you can't compel me to produce the Horse. When I had clamoured a good While, that he would either produce the Horse, or the Man that bought him: He at last pays me down the Money in a Passion. I had bought him for fifteen Guineas, I set him to him at twenty six, and he had valued him at thirty two, and so computed with himself he had better make that Profit of him, than restore the Horse. I go away, as if I was vex'd in my Mind, and scarcely pacified, tho' the Money was paid me: He desires me not to take it amiss, he would make me Amends some other Way: So I bit the Biter: He has a Horse not worth a Groat; he expected that he that had given him the Earnest, should come and pay him the Money; but no Body came, nor ever will come.

Aul. But in the mean Time, did he never expostulate the Matter with you?

Ph. With what Face or Colour could he do that? I have met him over and over since, and he complain'd of the Unfairness of the Buyer: But I often reason'd the Matter with him, and told him, he deserv'd to be so serv'd, who by his hasty Sale of him, had depriv'd me of my Horse. This was a Fraud so well plac'd, in my Opinion, that I could not find in my Heart to confess it as a Fault.

Aul. If I had done such a Thing, I should have been so far from confessing it as a Fault, that I should have requir'd a Statue for it.

Ph. I can't tell whether you speak as you think or no; but you set me agog however, to be paying more of these Fellows in their own Coin.

THE BEGGARS DIALOGUE

The ARGUMENT

The Beggars Dialogue paints out the cheating, crafty Tricks of Beggars, who make a Shew of being full of Sores, and make a Profession of Palmistry, and other Arts by which they impose upon many Persons. Nothing is more like Kingship, than the Life of a Beggar.

IRIDES, MISOPONUS.

Ir. What new Sort of Bird is this I see flying here? I know the Face, but the Cloaths don't suit it. If I'm not quite mistaken, this is Misoponus. I'll venture to speak to him, as ragged as I am. God save you, Misoponus.

Mis. Hold your Tongue, I say.

Ir. What's the Matter, mayn't a Body salute you?

Mis. Not by that Name.

Ir. Why, what has happen'd to you? Are you not the same Man that you was? What, have you changed your Name with your Cloaths?

Mis. No, but I have taken up my old Name again.

Ir. Who was you then?

Mis. Apitius.

Ir. Never be asham'd of your old Acquaintance, if any Thing of a better Fortune has happen'd to you. It is not long since you belong'd to our Order.

Mis. Prithee, come hither, and I'll tell you the whole Story. I am not asham'd of your Order; but I am asham'd of the Order that I was first of myself.

Ir. What Order do you mean? That of the Franciscans?

Mis. No, by no Means, my good Friend; but the Order of the Spendthrifts.

Ir. In Truth, you have a great many Companions of that Order.

Mis. I had a good Fortune, I spent lavishly, and when I began to be in Want, no Body knew Apitius. I ran away for Shame, and betook myself to your College: I lik'd that better than digging.

Ir. Very wisely done; but how comes your Body to be in so good Case of late? For as to your Change of Cloaths, I don't so much wonder at that.

Mis. Why so?

Ir. Because the Goddess Laverna makes many rich on a sudden.

Mis. What! do you think I got an Estate by Thieving then?

Ir. Nay, perhaps more idly, by Rapine.

Mis. No, I swear by your Goddess Penia, neither by Thieving, nor by Rapine. But first I'll satisfy you as to the State of my Body, which seems to you to be the most admirable.

Ir. For when you were with us, you were all over full of Sores.

Mis. But I have since made Use of a very friendly Physician.

Ir. Who?

Mis. No other Person but myself, unless you think any Body is more friendly to me, than I am to myself.

Ir. But I never knew you understood Physick before.

Mis. Why all that Dress was nothing but a Cheat I had daub'd on with Paints, Frankincense, Brimstone, Rosin, Birdlime, and Clouts dipp'd in Blood; and what I put on, when I pleas'd I took off again.

Ir. O Impostor! Nothing appear'd more miserable than you were. You might have acted the Part of Job in a Tragedy.

Mis. My Necessity made me do it, though Fortune sometimes is apt to change the Skin too.

Ir. Well then, tell me of your Fortune. Have you found a Treasure?

Mis. No; but I have found out a Way of getting Money that's a little better than yours.

Ir. What could you get Money out of, that had no Stock?

Mis. An Artist will live any where.

Ir. I understand you now, you mean the Art of picking Pockets.

Mis. Not so hard upon me, I pray; I mean the Art of Chymistry.

Ir. Why 'tis scarce above a Fortnight, since you went away from us, and have you in that Time learn'd an Art, that others can hardly learn in many Years?

Mis. But I have got a shorter Way.

Ir. Prithee, what Way?

Mis. When I had gotten almost four Guineas by your Art, I happened, as good Luck would have it, to fall into the Company of an old Companion of mine, who had manag'd his Matters in the World no better than I had done. We went to drink together; he began, as the common Custom is, to tell of his Adventures. I made a Bargain with him to pay his Reckoning, upon Condition that he should faithfully teach me his Art. He taught it me very honestly, and now 'tis my Livelihood.

Ir. Mayn't a Body learn it?

Mis. I'll teach it you for nothing, for old Acquaintance Sake. You know, that there are every where a great many that are very fond of this Art.

Ir. I have heard so, and I believe it is true.

Mis. I take all Opportunities of insinuating myself into their Acquaintance, and talk big of my Art, and where-ever I find an hungry Sea-Cob, I throw him out a Bait.

Ir. How do you do that?

Mis. I caution him by all Means, not rashly to trust Men of that Profession, for that they are most of them Cheats, that by their hocus pocus Tricks, pick the Pockets of those that are not cautious.

Ir. That Prologue is not fit for your Business.

Mis. Nay, I add this further, that I would not have them believe me myself, unless they saw the Matter plainly with their own Eyes, and felt it with their Hands.

Ir. You speak of a wonderful Confidence you have in your Art.

Mis. I bid them be present all the While the Metamorphosis is under the Operation, and to look on very attentively, and that they may have the less Reason to doubt, to perform the whole Operation with their own Hands, while I stand at a Distance, and don't so much as put my Finger to it. I put them to refine the melted Matter themselves, or carry it to the Refiners to be done; I tell them beforehand, how much Silver or Gold it will afford: And in the last Place, I bid them carry the melted Mass to several Goldsmiths, to have it try'd by the Touchstone. They find the exact Weight that I told them; they find it to be the finest Gold or Silver, it is all one to me which it is, except that the Experiment in Silver is the less chargeable to me.

Ir. But has your Art no Cheat in it?

Mis. It is a mere Cheat all over.

Ir. I can't see where the Cheat lies.

Mis. I'll make you see it presently. I first make a Bargain for my Reward, but I won't be paid before I have given a Proof of the Thing itself: I give them a little Powder, as though the whole Business was effected by the Virtue of that; but I never tell them how to make it, except they purchase it at a very great Price. And I make them take an Oath, that for six Months they shall not discover the Secret to any Body living.

Ir. But I han't heard the Cheat yet.

Mis. The whole Mystery lies in one Coal, that I have prepared for this Purpose. I make a Coal hollow, and into it I pour melted Silver, to the Quantity I tell them before-Hand will be produc'd. And after the Powder is put in, I set the Pot in such a Manner, that it is cover'd all over, above, beneath, and Sides, with Coals, and I persuade them, that the Art consists in that; among those Coals that are laid at Top, I put in one that has the Silver or Gold in it, that being melted by the Heat of the Fire, falls down among the other Metal, which melts, as suppose Tin or Brass, and upon the Separation, it is found and taken out.

Ir. A ready Way; but, how do you manage the Fallacy, when another does it all with his own Hands?

Mis. When he has done every Thing, according to my Direction, before the Crucible is stirr'd, I come and look about, to see if nothing has been omitted, and then I say, that there seems to want a Coal or two at the Top, and pretending to take one out of the Coal-Heap, I privately lay on one of my own, or have laid it there ready before-Hand, which I can take, and no Body know any Thing of the Matter.

Ir. But when they try to do this without you, and it does not succeed, what Excuse have you to make?

Mis. I'm safe enough when I have got my Money. I pretend one Thing or other, either that the Crucible was crack'd, or the Coals naught, or the Fire not well tempered. And in the last Place, one Part of the Mystery of my Profession is, never to stay long in the same Place.

Ir. And is there so much Profit in this Art as to maintain you?

Mis. Yes, and nobly too: And I would have you, for the future, if you are wise, leave off that wretched Trade of Begging, and follow ours.

Ir. Nay, I should rather chuse to bring you back to our Trade.

Mis. What, that I should voluntarily return again to that I have escap'd from, and forsake that which I have found profitable?

Ir. This Profession of ours has this Property in it, that it grows pleasant by Custom. And thence it is, that tho' many have fallen off from the Order of St. Francis or St. Benedict, did you ever know any that had been long in our Order, quit it? For you could scarce taste the Sweetness of Beggary in so few Months as you follow'd it.

Mis. That little Taste I had of it taught me, that it was the most wretched Life in Nature.

Ir. Why does no Body quit it then?

Mis. Perhaps, because they are naturally wretched.

Ir. I would not change this Wretchedness, for the Fortune of a King. For there is nothing more like a King, than the Life of a Beggar.

Mis. What strange Story do I hear? Is nothing more like Snow than a Coal?

Ir. Wherein consists the greatest Happiness of Kings?

Mis. Because in that they can do what they please.

Ir. As for that Liberty, than which nothing is sweeter, we have more of it than any King upon Earth; and I don't doubt, but there are many Kings that envy us Beggars. Let there be War or Peace we live secure, we are not press'd for Soldiers, nor put upon Parish-Offices, nor taxed. When the People are loaded with Taxes, there's no Scrutiny into our Way of Living. If we commit any Thing that is illegal, who will sue a Beggar? If we beat a Man, he will be asham'd to fight with a Beggar? Kings can't live at Ease neither in War or in Peace, and the greater they are, the greater are their Fears. The common People are afraid to offend us, out of a certain Sort of Reverence, as being consecrated to God.

Mis. But then, how nasty are ye in your Rags and Kennels?

Ir. What do they signify to real Happiness. Those Things you speak of are out of a Man. We owe our Happiness to these Rags.

Mis. But I am afraid a good Part of your Happiness will fail you in a short Time.

Ir. How so?

Mis. Because I have heard a Talk in the Cities, that there will be a Law, that Mendicants shan't be allow'd to stroll about at their Pleasure, but every City shall maintain its own Poor; and that they that are able shall be made to work.

Ir. What Reason have they for this?

Mis. Because they find great Rogueries committed under Pretence of Begging, and that there are great Inconveniencies arise to the Publick from your Order.

Ir. Ay, I have heard these Stones Time after Time, and they'll bring it about when the Devil's blind.

Mis. Perhaps sooner than you'd have it.