XI Vestitus et Deambulatio Matutina — Getting Dressed and the Morning Constitutional
Bellinus, Malvenda, Joannius, Gomezulus
This dialogue (as its inscription indicates) has two divisions. The earlier part is a paraphrase of the first dialogue, for he treats of almost the same things as there, but more copiously: he describes the manner of putting on one’s clothes or dressing one’s self, and the kinds of clothes. The second part contains the morning constitutional, and includes a noteworthy description of spring as it reveals itself to all the senses.
First Part
Mal.
Nempe haec adsidue? Iam clarum mane fenestras intrat et angustas extendit lumine rimas: stertimus indomitum quod despumare Falernum sufficiat.48
(Persius, iii. 1–1.)
Bell. It is plain to be seen that you are not in possession of your senses, for if you were, you would not be awake so long before morning, nor pour out verses, like a satyr’s, by which you disclose your frenzy.
Mal. Then hear some epigrammatic verses, with no bite in them and yet full of salt (edentulos et salsos).
Surgite iam pueris vendit ientacula pistor
Cristataeque sonant undique lucis aves.49.
Martial, 223.
Bell. The call of breakfast would drive off sleep from me more quickly than any din of thine.
Mal. Most happy jester, I wish you good morning.
Bell. And I wish you good night, and a good brain to be able to sleep as well as you speak with fluent oratory.
Mal. I beg you, answer me seriously, if you are ever able to answer seriously, what o’clock do you think it is now?
Bell. Midnight, or a little after.
Mal. By what clock?
Bell. That in my house.
Mal. Where is your house-clock? You would have to get or see a clock which had every hour for sleeping, eating, and playing, but which had none for studying.
Bell. Yet I have a clock by me.
Mal. Where? Produce it.
Bell. In my eyes. See, such as cannot be opened by any force. I beg of you, fall asleep again, or at least be quiet.
Mal. What in the name of evil is this drowsiness or, more truly, lethargy, and, in a certain sense, death? How long do you think we have slept?
Bell. Two hours, or at the most three.
Mal. Three times three.
Bell. How is this possible?
Mal. Gomezulus, run along to the sun-dial of the Franciscans and see what hour it is.
Bell. Sun-dial, forsooth! When the sun has not as yet risen.
Mal. Risen, indeed! Come here, boy. Open that glass window that the sun with his beams may fall upon this fellow’s eyes. Everything is full of the sun and the shadows are getting less.
Bell. What has the rising or setting of the sun to do with you? Let it rise earlier than you, since it has a longer day’s journey to accomplish than you have.
Mal. Gomezulus, run quickly to St. Peter’s, and there look both on the mechanical clock (horologio machinali), and on the style of the sun-dial to tell what time it is.
Gom. I have looked at both. By the sun-clock the shadow is yet a little distant from the second line. By the mechanical clock the hand points to a little after the hour of five.
Bell. What do you say? What else remains for you to do but fetch me the blacksmith from Stone Street, that he may separate my eye-lids by pincers so firmly stuck together? Tell him, that he has to force a door lever, from which the key has been lost.
Gom. Where does he live?
Mal. The boy will be going in earnest. Leave off joking and get up.
Bell. Well, let us get up, since you are so obstinate in mind. Ah! what a vexatious companion you are! Rouse me up, Christ, from the sleep of sin to the watchfulness of justice! Take me from the night of death into the light of life. Amen.
Mal. May this day proceed happily for you!
Bell. And for you, too, the same, and very many more as joyful and prosperous, i.e., may you so pass through it that you neither harm the virtue of any one, nor may any one harm yours. Boy, bring me a clean shirt, for this one I have already worn for six whole days. There, snatch that flea on the leap. Now leave off the hunt. How small a matter it would be to have killed a single flea in this chamber!
Mal. As much as to take a drop of water out of the river Dilia (at Louvain).
Bell. Or yet from the ocean-sea itself. I won’t have the shirt with the creased collar, but the other one with the smooth collar. For what are these creases otherwise at this time of the year than nests or receptacles for lice and fleas.
Mal. Stupid! You will then suddenly become rich, possessing both white and black stock.
Bell. Property abounding in quantity rather than of value in itself, and companions I would rather see in the neighbourhood than in my house! Order the maid to sew again the side of this shirt, and that with silk thread.
Gom. She hasn’t any.
Bell. Then with flax or with wool, or even if she pleases with hemp. Never has this maid what is necessary; of what is unnecessary she has more than enough. But you, Gomezulus, I don’t want you to be a prophet. Carry out my order and report to me. Don’t foretell what will happen. Shake the dust out of the stockings and then clean them carefully with that hard fly-brush. Give me clean socks, for these are now moist and smell of the feet. φεῦ, take them away, the smell annoys me terribly.
Gom. Do you wish an under-garment?
Bell. No, for by the light of the sun I gather that the day will be hot. But reach me that velvet doublet with the half sleeves of silken cloth, and the light tunic of British cloth with long cloth cords.
Mal. Or rather German cloth. But what is the meaning of all this, whereby you think of making yourself so extraordinarily smart, beyond your custom—especially when it is not a feast-day? And you ask also for country shoe-straps.
Bell. And you? Why have you put on your smooth silk, fresh from the tailor’s, although you have your goat’s-hair clothes and your well-worn clothes of Damascus.
Mal. I have sent them to be repaired.
Bell. I indeed rather consider ease in my clothes than ornament. These little hooks and knobs are out of their place. You always loosen them wrongly and thoughtlessly.
Mal. I rather use buttons and holes, which are more of an ornament, and less burdensome for putting on and taking off one’s clothes.
Bell. Every one has not the same judgment on this any more than on other matters. Put down this breast-covering here in the box, and don’t bring it out again during the whole of the summer. These straps have quite lost their strength. This belt is unsewn and torn to pieces. See that it is mended, but take care that no unshapely knots are sewn on.
Gom. This will not be done for at least an hour and a half.
Bell. Then stick a needle through it, so that it doesn’t hang down. Give me the garters.
Gom. Here they are! I have got ready for you your shoes and the sandals with the long latchets. I have shaken off the dust from them well.
Bell. Rather wipe off the dirt from the shoes and polish them.
Mal. Is the ligula (shoe latchet) in the shoe? Concerning this word there has been a very sharp controversy amongst grammarians, as there usually is about everything, whether it should be called ligula or lingula (a little tongue).
Bell. The strap is sewn on the Spanish shoes over the top of the sole. Here they do not wear it so.
Mal. And in Spain they have given up arranging it so, because they now wear their shoes in the French fashion.
Bell. Let me have your ivory comb.
Mal. Where is your wooden one—the one from Paris?
Bell. Did you not hear me yesterday scolding Gomezulus?
Mal. Do you call beating a person scolding him?
Bell. This was the reason. He had broken five or six of the thick and of the thin teeth of the comb—almost broken them all to pieces.
Mal. I have lately read that a certain author stated that we should comb the head with an ivory comb forty times from the forehead to the top and then to the back of the head. What are you doing? That is not combing but stroking. Let me have the comb.
Bell. Nor is that combing, but shaving or sweeping. I think your head is made of bricks.
Mal. And I think yours is of butter—so that you dare not touch it closely.
Bell. Are you willing, then, that we should have a butting match with our heads?
Mal. I am not willing to have a senseless contest with you, nor to engage my good mind against your witless one. Now at length wash well your hands and face, but especially the mouth, that you may speak more clearly.
Bell. Would that I could cleanse my mind as quickly as my hands! Give me the wash-hand-basin.
Mal. Rub together more diligently the knuckles of your hands, to which there sticks the thickest dirt.
Bell. You are mistaken, for I think it is rather discoloured and wrinkled skin. Pour the water in these hand-basins, Gomezulus, into that sink and give me that net-bag and that striped cap. Bring now my boots (ocreas, lit. greaves).
Gom. Travelling boots?
Bell. No, my city boots.
Gom. Do you wish your Spanish cap and the long mantle?
Bell. Are we going out of doors?
Mal. Why not?
Bell. Bring then the travelling cloak.
Mal. Then at last we will go out, so as not to let slip by the time for having a walk.
Second Part
Bell. Lead us, Christ, in the ways which are pleasing to Thee, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen. Oh, how beautiful is the dawn! truly rosy and golden, as the poets call it. How I rejoice to have arisen. Let us go out of the city.
Mal. Yes, let us go. For I have not stepped foot out of the city gate for a whole week. But whither shall we first go, and after that which way shall we take?
Bell. To the citadel, or to the Carthusian Monastery?
Mal. Or to the meadows of St. James?
Bell. No, not there in the morning; rather in the evening.
Mal. To the Carthusian Monastery, then, past the Franciscan Monastery and the Recreation Grounds, thence through the Brussels gate, then we will return by the Carthusian Monastery to divine service. See, here is Joannius. A greeting to you, Joannius!
Joan. The warmest of greetings to you! What an unusual thing is this that you should be stirring so early?
Bell. I was bound in the deepest sleep, but Malvenda here, by shouting and pinching me, tore me from my bed.
Joan. He did rightly, for this walk in the country will revive you and freshen you up. Let us go on the green walk (the Pomerium). O marvellous and adorable Creator of beauty so great; this world is not inappropriately called Mundus and by the Greeks Κόσμος, as if it were decked and made elegant with beauty.
Mal. Don’t let us take our walk as if in a rush, but slowly and gently. Please let us make the circuit of the city walls twice or three times so that we may contemplate so splendid a view the more peacefully and freely.
Description of Spring — 1. Sight. 2. Hearing
Joan. Observe, there is no sense which has not a lordly enjoyment! First, the eyes! What varied colours, what clothing of the earth and trees, what tapestry! What paintings are comparable with this view? Here are natural and real things; the representations are artificial and false. Not without truth has the Spanish poet, Juan de Mena, called May the painter of the Earth. Then, the ear. How delightful to hear the singing of birds, and especially the nightingale! Listen to her as she sings in the thicket, from whom, as Pliny says, issues the modulated sound of the completed science of music. Attend accurately and you will note all varieties of sounds. At one time there is no pause in them, but continuously, with breath held equably over a long time without change, the bird sings on. Now it changes tone! Now it sings in shorter and sharper tones! Now it draws in its tones and, as it were, makes its voice tremulous! Now it stretches out its voice and now it calls it back! At other times it sings long and, as it were, heroical verses; at other times, short sapphics, and at intervals very short, as in adonics. In very fact you have, as it were, the whole study and school of music in the nightingale. The little ones ponder and listen to the verses, which they imitate. The little bird listens with keen intentness (would that our teachers received like attention!) and gives back the sound. And then, again, they are silent.