View source for Texts:Platter/Autobiography

<title>Texts:Platter/autobiography</title>

{{top-book}}

</h2><i>Thomas Platter and the Educational Renaissance of the Sixteenth Century</i></h2>

<h3>By Paul Monroe, Ph.D.</h3><p>Professor in the History of Education,<br>Teachers College, Columbia University<br>New York: D. Appleton and Company,1904</p> 

<p>Copyright, 1904, By D. Appleton and Company, Printed at the Appleton Press, New York, U. S. A.</p> 

<h3>Editor's Preface</h3>

A summer traveller in the Alps leaves Lausanne, on Lake Geneva, on a slow train and goes up the valley of the Rhone, reaching Wisp in four or five hours. The river Wisp here flows into the Rhone. Wisp is the name of the parish in which the author of this autobiography was born. It is a parish in the canton of Valais. In the autobiography the canton is spelled Walless, and the modern spelling is Wallis. It includes the valley of the Rhone from the upper end of Lake Geneva to its source in the Rhone glacier. Our traveller, who is sup- posed to make a journey from Lausanne to Zermatt, leaves Wisp on the bridle road going up the river, and in a couple of hours arrives at Stalden, where the river divides into two branches, one going to the eastward of a spur of the Monte Rosa mountains, the highest of which rises nearly to the height of fifteen thousand feet, Monte Rosa itself reaching the height of 15,217 feet. This fork or branch is called the Saaser Wisp from its chief village of Saas. To the westward of this high spur of Monte Rosa is the valley of the Gorner Visp flowing down from the immense Gorner glacier, swelled by the addition of seven other great glaciers from Monte Rosa, the Matterhorn, the Breithorn, and other enormous mountains. Monte Rosa is the highest moun- tain in Switzerland, and next to Mt. Blanc the highest mountain in all the Alps. As our traveller goes on towards the south, ascending the Gorner Wisp, the vast white mountain tops come to view one after the other. The huge mass of the Weisshorn, 14,800 feet high, is seen directly after reaching Stalden, entirely covered with Snow.

Our traveller is in the neighbourhood of the birth- place of Platter. Between Stalden and St. Nicklaus there is the town Graechen; perhaps it is the Grenchen of which he speaks. The Platter family, he says, were called Platter from the plat or platten or blatten, a level surface or table-land or plateau on the top of a high mountain near Grenchen.

He further speaks of the town of Eisten, which is near Graechen, and is to be found on the Saaser fork of the Wisp. He went there when he was six years old. Here were his experiences in herding the eighty goats a year or two later. We have mention of larger towns in the Rhone valley, such as Munster, Morel and Brieg, and of the Grimsell Pass, which leads over into the Haesli valley and to the lakes Brienz and Thun. After his marriage Platter made a visit to his native parish of Wisp, climbing over the Grimsell Pass (seven thou- sand feet), his wife nearly freezing on the summit be- fore descending into the Rhone valley.

Our autobiographer, Platter, after he becomes a famous scholar, travels on one occasion through the St. Gall region on the west side of Lake Constance, the region which is celebrated by Scheffel the poet in his romance Ekkehard. He speaks also of Toggenburg and of crossing the country to Schwytz and the Uri Lake in the William Tell region, and finally into the valley of the Urser. His friend Henry Billing finds the journey too rough for him and returns to Basel, while Platter goes on to his home canton, Valais. In his wide journey through Nuremburg, Thuringian forest, and Saxony to Breslau in Silesia, we get glimpses of schools and churches and very ancient foundations. His jour- ney was soon after the year 1500, and the dates of some of these old foundations go back to the eighth century.

Our glimpse of St. Gall is very interesting. It was founded by an Irish missionary, Gall, the son of an Irish king of the same family as the celebrated St. Bridget. He was brought up by Columban, the most celebrated of Irish missionaries, who, filled with fiery zeal, laboured among the Burgundians and border- lands of the Merovingian monarchy. He converted the Teutonic tribes living on the east, who were still Odin worshippers, to Christianity. Columban was born in Leinster in 540. He brought a band of disciples with him and came to the court of Gontram in Burgundy about the year 573. He obtained a place for a monastery in the Vosges Mountains, the site of an old Roman forti- fication, in Franche Comté. He founded a monastery also at Luxeuil to the south of the Vosges. Later on Columban with his disciples from Ireland and Burgundy moved eastward, following the Rhine up to Lake Constance. Gall, the disciple of Columban, learned the Swiss dialect and attacked the idolatry of the worshippers of Odin with such fury that he kindled a persecution and his companions barely escaped with their lives from the outraged heathen, whose altars they desecrated. They crossed Lake Constance and took up their residence at Bregenz at the upper end. After three years Columban crossed the Alps into Lombardy, leaving his disciple Gall at Bregenz. He established a new monastery at Bobbio in the Apen- nines some thirty or forty miles northeast of Genoa. Columban died in 615, but Gall, whom he left ill at Bregenz, commenced his labours on the west side of Lake Constance and began the foundations of what became the Abbey of St. Gall. He worked for thirty years in this place and died in 645. He had in the meantime converted the heathen Odin worshippers about him to Christianity. Afterwards this monas- tery grew to be the most famous one north of the Alps. There were upwards of fifteen thousand of these monasteries more or less like this one of St. Gall, founded on the plan of St. Benedict. There came later an improved plan matured by St. Bernard, and nearly one thousand monasteries were founded on the model of the one at Clairvaux.

A charming description of this piece of mediaeval civilisation is quoted by Henry Barnard (Journal of Ed., vol. xxiv, p. 539) from Christian Schools and Scholars, vol. i., from which I have selected the follow- ing passages:

“The Abbey of St. Gallowed its origin to an Irish disciple, of that name, of St. Columbanus, who, in the seventh century, penetrated into the recesses of the Swiss mountains, and there fixed his abode in the midst of a pagan population. . . . In the ninth century it was regarded as the first religious house north of the Alps. . . . It lay in the midst of the savage Helvetian wilderness, an oasis of piety and civilisation. Looking down from the craggy mountains, the passes of which open upon the southern extremity of the lake of Con- stance, the traveller would have stood amazed at the sudden apparition of that vast range of stately buildings which almost filled up the valley at his feet. Churches and cloisters, the offices of a great abbey, buildings set apart for students and guests, workshops of every description, the forge, the bakehouse, and the mill, or rather mills, for there were ten of them, all in such active operation that they every year required ten new millstones; and then the houses occupied by the vast numbers of artisans and workmen attached to the mon- astery; gardens, too, and vineyards creeping up the mountain slopes, and beyond them fields of waving grain and sheep speckling the green meadows, and far away boats busily plying on Lake Constance, and carry- ing goods and passengers. . . . It was, in fact, not a town, but a house—a family presided over by a father, whose members were all knit together in the bonds of common fraternity. . . . Descend into the valley, and visit all these nurseries of useful toil, see the crowds of rude peasants transformed into intelligent artisans, and you will carry away the impression that the monks of St. Gall had found out the secret of creating a world of happy Christian factories. Enter their church and listen to the exquisite modulations of those chants and sequences peculiar to the abbey which boasted of possess- ing the most scientific school of music in all Europe, visit their scriptorium, their library, and their school, or the workshop where the monk Tutilo is putting the finishing touch to his wonderful copper images, and his fine altar frontals of gold and jewels, and you will think yourself in some intellectual and artistic academy. But look into the choir, and behold the hundred monks who form the community at their midnight office, and you will forget everything, save the saintly aspect of those servants of God who shed abroad over the desert around them the good odor of Christ, and are the apostles of the provinces which own their gentle sway. . . . Quit the circuit of the abbey and plunge once more into the mountain region which rises beyond, but you will have to wander far before you find yourself beyond the reach of its softening humanising influence. Here are dis- tant cells and hermitages with their chapels, where the shepherds come for early mass; or it may be that there meets you, winding over the mountain paths of which they sing so sweetly, going up and down among the hills into the thick forests and the rocky hollows, a pro- cession of the monks carrying their relics, and followed by a peasant crowd. In the schools you may have been listening to lectures in the learned, and even in the Eastern tongues; but in the churches, and here among the mountains, you will hear these fine classical scholars preaching plain truths, in barbarous idioms, to a rude race, who, before the monks came among them, sacrificed to the Evil One [to Odin and the gods of Walhalla], and worshipped stocks and stones. . . . They were Greek students, moreover. . . . The beauty of their early manuscripts is praised by all authors. They manufactured their own parchment out of the hides of the wild beasts that roamed through the mountains and forests around them, and prepared it with such skill that it acquired a peculiar delicacy. Many hands were employed on a single manuscript. Some made the parchment, others drew the fair red lines, others wrote on the pages thus prepared; more skilful hands put in the gold and the initial letters, and more learned heads compared the copy with the original text, this duty being generally discharged during the interval between matins and lauds, the daylight hours being reserved for actual transcription. . . . Among the masters and scholars was Iso, ‘a doctor magnificus, whose pupils were in great demand by all the monasteries of France and Burgundy, and Moengall (or Marcellus, a nephew of the Irish bishop Marx, both of whom entered the cloister in 840, on their return from Rome), who ex- tended, if he did not introduce, the study of Greek into the interior schools. . . . The pupils of the latter, Notker, Ratpert, and Tutilo were distinguished for rare scholarship, and in music, sculpture, and painting. Tutilo could preach both in Latin and Greek.” The name of Notker is familiar to those of us inter- ested in the Latin hymns of the Middle Ages, such as the Dies Irae, the Stabat Mater, the Hora Novissima, for he contributed some of the favourite antiphones, among which is the Media Vita.

Media vita Juste irasceris!

In morte sumus; Sancte Deus, Sancte fortis, Quem querimus adjutorem, Sancte et misericors Salvator, Nisi te, Domine, Amarae morti Qui pro peccatis nostris Ne tradas nos I

There is no page in the early history of education more interesting than that which tells of the schools of Ireland, which produced so many missionaries to the Teutonic tribes, to the Picts and Scots and to the Northmen. I copy the following sentences from a long quotation made by Henry Barnard in the same volume:

“During the sixth and seventh centuries,” says Dr. Dollinger, “the Church of Ireland stood in the full beauty of its bloom. The spirit of the gospel operated amongst the people with a vigorous and vivifying power; troops of holy men, from the highest to the lowest ranks of society, obeyed the counsel of Christ, and forsook all things that they might follow Him. There was not a country of the world, during this period, which could boast of pious foundations or of religious communities equal to those that adorned this far distant island. . . . The schools in the Irish cloisters were at this time the most celebrated in all the West; and in addition to those which have been already mentioned, there flourished the Schools of St. Finian of Clonard, founded in 530, and those of Cataldus, founded in 640. . . . In the year 536, in the time of St. Senanus, there arrived at Cork, from the Continent, fifteen monks, who were led thither by their desire to perfect themselves in the practices of an ascetic life under Irish directors, and to study the Sacred Scriptures in the school established near that city. At a later period, after the year 650, the Anglo- Saxons in particular passed over to Ireland in great numbers for the same laudable purposes. On the other hand, many holy and learned Irishmen left their own country to proclaim the faith, to establish or to reform monasteries in distant lands, and thus to become the benefactors of almost every nation in Europe. Such was St. Columba, who is the apostle of the North- ern Picts in the sixth century; such St. Fridolin in the beginning of the same century, who, after long labours in France, established himself on the Rhine; such the far-famed Columbanus, who, at the end of the century, was sent with twelve of his brethren to preach in France, Burgundy, Switzerland, and Lombardy, where he died.” Like St. Patrick, their eminent example, these Irish missionaries preached an idea of the divine strongly in contrast with the nature worship of the Teutonic tribes who worshipped Odin. Odin, like Zeus, was a personification of the meteorological process (so to speak)—the sky, the sun, the terrific energy of the thunder-storm. The Christian idea conceived God to be entirely transcendent, a One Person elevated above nature and self-subsisting without the aid of the world in time and space. Hence St. Patrick said to the heathen who believed in fairies and nature-spirits—a whole system of petty demons:

“Our God is the God of all, the God of heaven and earth, the God of the seas and rivers, the God of the sun and moon and all the other planets; the God of the high hills and of the low valleys; God over heaven, in heaven, and under heaven. . . . He gives life to all things; He moves all things; He gives light to the sun and to the moon; He creates fountains in the dry land and places dry islands in the sea; He made the stars to attend the greater lights. He hath a Son coeternal and coequal with Himself, and the Son is not younger than the Father, nor is the Father older than the Son, and the Holy Ghost breatheth in them, and the Father and Son and the Holy Ghost are not divided [as if he had said all your commonplace ideas are inadequate to think, the nature of the true God]. . . . I desire to unite you to the Son of the heavenly King.”” St. Patrick explained that all men are His children and that this all-powerful God was moved by such love for them that He gave his Son to die in order to save His children straying away from holiness and divine perfection.

The Teutonic chieftains, to whom came Columban, Boniface and St. Gall, were not slow to perceive the difference between nature gods and a One God not merely sovereign over nature, but having an independ- ent, higher being than nature.

This was suited in a marvellous way to their sense of individuality, which made them the least God-fearing of the races of men. Tacitus pronounced them securi adversos deos. Their gods were selfish and did not look upon men as, in their very essence, partakers of eternal being.

But these Irish missionaries preached like St. Patrick, their prototype, a religion at last that satisfied to its deepest depths the Teutonic love of personal recognition. 

*The above is partly quoted from The Conversion of the Teu- tonic Race, p. 203. St. Patrick arrived in Ireland A. D. 432. He was born in Gaul A.D. 373 and died in Ireland 493.

The highest God, though Creator of the heavens and the earth, yet was not forgetful of man in his uttermost feebleness, but kept man in His thoughts and came to his help by infinite condescension, even taking mortal suffering on His divine Self in order to recover His wayward and lost children. This is the secret of the conversion of the heathen peoples of the German forests. This is what is con- tained in the first great education—the missionary edu- cation that went out from Rome in the early centuries of our era and spread from new centres, Ireland, Iona, Lindisfarne, St. Gall, Richenau, Einsiedeln. “Quo Vadis?” “I go to Rome to be crucified again.” Let me go with Thee. I too will participate in the infinite self-sacrifice and losing myself utterly shall find myself infinitely.

The toil and suffering of Thomas Platter in his efforts to get an education seem excessive from the point of view of modern provision of free schools for the peo- ple. But his book gives us glimpses of older founda- tions, all of which were laid in martyrs’ blood, and on which the structure of our civilization securely rests. We must, in our study of the history of pedagogy, of which Platter's Autobiography is one of the precious sources, go on back to the early narratives of the mission- aries who taught in their schools the fundamentals of civilisation. We must go back of the educational re- formers to the educational martyrs.

AUTHOR'S PREFACE THE Autobiography of Thomas Platter, written in 1572, but not published until the eighteenth century, furnishes the best known account of the life of the wandering student of the later middle ages. There is scarcely a phase of the educational life of the sixteenth century that is not illumined by the concrete details and enlivened by the personal touch found in this little narrative. The crude and simple story, despite its awkward style, possesses a charm of freshness and of frankness that has made it a tale of delight to children, and may well make it one of instruction to adults. The translation is a faithful rendering and aims to preserve all the simplicity and naïveté of the original, even though the results may at times be crude. No apology is needed for presenting this story as a type of the great changes in education, in religion, and in the thought life of the sixteenth century. The earnest life, so naïvely depicted, furnishes a splendid example in the concrete of the momentous changes of that time.

More is to be learned from this humble toiler in the ranks concerning the educational aspirations, the de- tails of school life, and the work of instruction than from the weighty treatises of the famous leaders of the times or from the work of modern scholars. The autobiography is not wholly unknown in Eng- lish, but has never been completely translated. As early as 1839 an incomplete version by “the transla- tor of Lavater's Maxims ” was published in London by Wertheim. The translator, however, could not re- sist drawing the moral in greater detail than Platter himself had done, and the frequent religious disquisi- tions, interpolated for the sake of the modern Sunday- school scholar, destroy some of the frankness and real- ism of the story of the old school-master. Published as a story for children, so much of the more important material from the educational point of view was omit- ted that the volume was little more than an abstract. Selections were also published in Barnard's American Journal of Education, vol. v., p. 79; while more re- cently briefer selections have appeared in Whitcomb's Source Book of the Renaissance (Philadelphia, 1900). The present translation is based primarily on the mod- ernized German edition of J. R. Rudolf Heman (Gü- tersloh, 1882). The author is indebted for assistance in the revision of the manuscript to Prof. Jeannette Zeppenfeld, of Franklin College, and to Prof. Franklin T. Baker, of Teachers’ College, Columbia University.

The appended bibliography, composed for the most part of various editions of Platter's life, was compiled by Prof. Earl Barnes from the catalogue of the Brit- ish Museum, and was intended for a work similar to the present one, contemplated by Prof. Will S. Mon- roe. This conjunction of plans did not become known until the final proofs of the present volume had appeared. In availing himself of the generous offer of the results of this research, the author desires to express his indebtedness and his thanks to both of these gentlemen and, at the same time, to indicate his regret that the issue of this volume has rendered useless some exacting scholarly work upon their part.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Thomas Platter's Leben. Wegen seiner Merkwürdigkeit. Neuherausgegeben von E. G. Baldinger. Pages xii, 244. 8vo. Marburg, 1793. The Autobiography of Thomas Platter, a schoolmaster of the sixteenth century, translated from the German by the translator of Lavater's original maxims (Elizabeth Anne McCaul, afterwards Finn). 12mo. London, 1839. Thomas Platter und Felix Platter, zwei Autobiographien. Ein Beitrag zur Sittengeschichte des XVI. Jahrhunderts, her- ausgegeben von Dr. D. A. Fechter. 8vo. Basel, 1840. La Wie de Thomas Platter, écrite par lui-même. (Translated by E. Fick.) 8vo. Genève, 1862. Thomas und Felix Platter (Thomas Platter's Selbstbiographie, 1499–1582. Das Tagebuch des Felix Platters). Zur Sit- tengeschichte des XVI. Jahrhunderts, bearbeitet von H. Boos. Pages xvi, 272. 8vo. Leipzig, 1878. Thomas und Felix Platter, zwei Lebensbilder aus der Zeit der Reformation und Renaissance, von ihnen selbst entworfen. Aus dem Schweizerdeutschen . . . übertragen von J. R. H. Heman, etc. Part II. 8vo. Gütersloh, 1882. Thomas Platter's merkwürdige Lebensgeschichte. Eine Er- zählung für Christenkinder, von Christian Gottlob Barth. Vierte Auflage, etc. Page 120. 8vo. Stuttgart, 1886. T. Platter's Briefe an seinen Sohn Felix. Herausgegeben von A. Burckhardt. Pages vi, 106. 8vo. Basle, 1890.

C O N T E N T S EDITOR's PREFACE . . . . . . . . . AUTHOR's PREFACE . - - - - - - - - THE EDUCATIONAL RENAIssa Nce: Significance of Platter's Autobiography . . . Existing Types of Schools . . The Wandering Scholars The Revival of the Idea of the Liberal Education. Renaissance Educational Ideas in Germany . Types of Renaissance Schools in Germany - - The School at Basel . - - - - THE AUToBIOGRAPHY of THOMAS PLATTER: CHAPTER I. Birth—Orphanage . . . . . . . II. The Goatherd . - - - - - - - III. The Schoolboy—The Wandering Scholar IV. At Last a Student at Schlettstadt and a Visit Home - - - - - - - - W. In Zurich—Study or Die—Father Myconius VI. Zwingli and the Reformation Period PAGE xvii 19 39 49 54 63 80 85 93 117 121 124 xxi

CONTENTS THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF THOMAS PLATTER: CHAPTER VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV. XVI. XVII. XVIII. XIX. The Student, Teacher and Rope-maker. The First Kappel War—June, 1529 Marriage—School-master at Home . In Zurich—In Basel. With the Doctor in Pruntrut—Death of the Children and of the Doctor Zurich War, October, 1531 . - e To Basel—Myconius also goes thither . Professor in the Pedagogium—Reader—Call to Sitten—Journey through Switzerland . The Printer and Basel Burgher Debt—Sickness—Purchase of Houses . Rector of the School at the Castle, 1541 Purchase of an Estate—Great Credit—Help from God and Man Parents’ Sorrow and Parents’ Joy–Son's Doc- torate and Marriage Pestilence and Gracious Exemption—Retro- spect—God Be Praised PAGE 140 150 154 164 167 177 182 187 194 201 209 217 221 225

I. THE EDUCATIONAL RENAISSANCE SIGNIFICANCE OF PLATTER’S AUTOBIOG- RAPHY

IT is with the greatest difficulty that one obtains con- Crete information concerning educational activities in the past, especially any connected and tolerably com- plete account of the details of school life. In lieu of such knowledge the student of the history of education accepts a very general view of educational development drawn partially from inference or more largely by generalization from the work or the writings of promi- ment men. Platter's Autobiography furnishes such concrete information in regard to two phases of the education of the sixteenth century: first, the life of the wandering scholar; and, second, the spread of the - humanistic ideas until they dominate the educational activities of the times. This first phase was quite as Characteristic of the fifteenth, and to some extent of the fourteenth, as of the sixteenth century; while the second also characterized the seventeenth, and to a large extent the eighteenth century. Hence this little sketch, which gives the life of an educator just at the turning- point in educational history between the mediaeval and the modern, in which the life of the student is repre- sentative of the old, and the life of the teacher is repre- sentative of the new, becomes a revelation in the con- crete of the educational characteristics of several centuries. The account of student life gives to us not only the clearest picture that we possess of a very novel phase of school life, that of the wandering student, but at the same time it also indicates, though incidentally, the character of the typical schools. On the other hand, Platter exemplifies in his own life not only the conversion to the new educational ideals and the build- ing up of a new type of schools embodying this ideal, but also the close connection existing between this educational reform and the broader religious reform, and, inadvertently, the relation which it had to the spread of printed literature and to new industrial and economic ideals of life. No account of theoretical educational discussions, such as those of Erasmus, or Wimpheling; no practical treatises dealing with school organization or method, as those of Melancthon, of Sturm, or of Ascham, can give us such vitalized ideas of these educational activities as the concrete, naïve, and even crude account of the simple-hearted old man who mixes up the account of his visit from the greatest scholar of the century, if not of all modern times, with the account of his hard task-master who fed him on sour beer and spoiled cheese, and who interweaves the account of his founding of a new humanistic school with his acquisition of a new stable lot, just because such motives and such activities are found in juxta- position in his life. Much of its educational signifi- cance, however, is found rather by implication in the narrative, and needs some further amplification by way of introduction.

EXISTING TYPES OF SCHOOLS

Platter, in his narrative, refers to cathedral schools, parish schools, burgher or city schools, by inference to monastic schools, and to the universities. In addition to these, which had existed as types for several centuries, and which were quite numerous, he describes in the school which he himself establishes, or at least reforms and conducts, the institution which resulted from the grafting of the new renaissance spirit on the old burgher-school stem. This new school is the classical gymnasium, which remains the typical German school to this day. As Platter refers to these existing schools merely incidentally and gives details concerning the new gymnasia only, it may be helpful to notice these other institutions somewhat more in detail in order to get from his narrative the significance of the educa- tional reform of the sixteenth century.

MonASTIC ScHools.-It is worthy of note that the monastic schools, which were the dominant schools of Europe for so many centuries, and were still a promi- nent type during the sixteenth, have no direct mention in Platter's narrative. It would seem from his ac- count that they had ceased to have any great importance or to offer any great attractions to the wandering students of the times. This may be due not less to the stricter supervision exercised by the monastic orders over their students, and the ease with which a student could now have his material wants supplied outside the monasteries through the tolerance of begging, than to any superiority in character or quantity of instruction. Monastic education as well as monastic life first re- ceived a general organization under the rules of St. Benedict, formulated in 529. Comparatively slight at- tention was given to any intellectual training, but enough was required to make the Benedictines the guardians of education for many centuries. The rules provide for the reading and study of the scriptures at certain hours of the day and the writing and copying of manuscripts. The latter was introduced as a form of manual labour more suitable to some than other forms of labour would be and also more suitable for all in times of inclement weather. Some training, chiefly of a religious character, was prescribed for the prospective members of the order, and this training, together with the provisions for reading and writing, constituted the scope of the educational activities of the Benedictines.

Within a century after the formulation of the rules, the rule respecting study was made more definite by requir- ing the monks to continue such study until fifty years of age; and the one respecting admission into the order was modified so as to require a novitiate of at least two years, and to permit no candidates to be received into full membership under eighteen years of age. During both the earlier and the later centuries, boys were received into training even as young as six or eight years of age, and consequently a long schooling, some of which was intellectual, was required. By the ninth century, partially through the influence which Charle- magne brought to bear on monastic life and on education in general, the monasteries began to make definite provision for the rudimentary education of boys, not connected, actually or prospectively, with the order, and also to make more specific provision for the work in the monastic building by setting apart an armarium or writing-room for instruction distinct from the scriptorium, the more general copying-room and library, and by providing a school-room itself. Charle- magne's capitulary of 789 in addition to this require- ment of elementary education (reading and writing) in connection with every monastery, required that the larger and more wealthy monasteries should give in- struction in more advanced subjects. Tours in France, Fulda in Germany, St. Gall in Switzerland—famous long before this time, however—were the chief of these.

At St. Gall, during the tenth century, instruction was given in Quintilian, Cicero, Horace, Terence, Juvenal, Persius, Ovid, and other authors, and, it is said, in the Greek language as well. With the eleventh century came the multiplication of monastic orders, many of them based upon the Benedictines' rules, and all pro- (viding for the education of their novitiates, though not X all so broadly as the Benedictines. Concerning the work of the monastic school we have some detailed accounts. The school at St. Gall, previously referred to, was a famous one, and in the writings of Eckehardus * of the tenth century, and in the pseudo autobiography of Walafred Strabo (ostensibly of the early ninth century, but in reality now thought to be more than a century later) we have specific accounts of such school-work in this monastery. Strabo gives the following account of his schooling.f

“The first thing that I had to do there was to learn by heart Latin phrases in order to talk in Latin with my comrades. For most of my fellow students were far advanced; some in the second, some in the third, and some in the fourth year of the grammar. Therefore, we were compelled to talk in Latin except during rest and play hours. The beginners, however, were allowed to use German with one another as far as it was necessary. 

* See Mullany (Brother Azarias), Essays Educational, pp. 26–28 for quotations.

+ Schmidt, Geschichte der Pädagogik, vol. ii, pp. 199—213.

After a time Donatus was given to me and an older boy continually questioned me about it, until I had memorized the eight parts of speech, and the in- flections. For the first two hours the teacher himself showed me how to memorize the words and moods. In time, however, he called upon my master at the end of the recitation and asked how I had done my work. The pupil who taught me could only be satisfied with my work in Donatus, though I had time enough for all kinds of pranks, and to disturb my fellow students. For I knew that he was not allowed to strike us, and that he was too fond of me to report me to the teacher. Every afternoon we were taught to apply the rules we had studied in the morning. The pupil, or the teacher, repeated sentences in German, which we had to write, down immediately on the wax tablets, in Latin. The vocabulary was generally taken from Donatus or from our conversations. We were permitted to ask the teacher that which we did not know. As we wrote by ear, without having seen the word, the spelling was oftentimes very odd. Each evening some one narrated to us a chapter from the Bible which we must reproduce the next morning. . . . The following winter found us busy with the second part of the grammar and with orthography. We had now always to converse in Latin. This often caused much amusement both to our teachers and to ourselves. Every day a psalm was read, which we wrote down on our tablets. Each student corrected the mistakes of his neighbour, and finally one of the pupils who had studied for four years corrected our work. He went over it word for word and corrected every mistake. The next morning we had to learn the whole chapter by heart. . . . To complete our gram- matical studies, we were ordered during the winter to instruct the newly entered students in speaking and writing as we had formerly been instructed. At the same time the teacher of grammar acquainted us with tropes and figures of speech; at first these were pointed out to us in the Holy Bible; later he asked us to show him similar examples in the poets which we had read. Those neither desirous nor capable of teaching others busied themselves, as ordered by the teachers, either with copying the grammar of Priscianus, Victorianus, or Cassiodorus, or exercising themselves in the con- struction of Latin and German sentences. . . . Thus the time approached when those who went from gram- mar to rhetoric must be tested by the final examination. Hence, toward the end of the summer we reviewed the three divisions of grammar, that is, etymology, orthog- raphy, and prosody, with the use of tropes and figures. We commenced our study of rhetoric, using Cassiodorus' text-book, one well known to most of us, since during the grammar years his writings had been given us to read, etc.” Then follows a detailed account of the study of Cicero, Quintilian, etc., referred to above. This, however, must be considered exceptional. Wala- fred gives the number of students in this school at this time as one hundred in the “inner school,” destined for the order, and four hundred in the school for externs. With the thirteenth century came the friars and the universities, both indicating an increasing interest in intellectual and educational affairs, and both indicating a decline in the interest in the older types of mo- nasticism, in their influence, and in the character of their educational efforts. The intellectual life of the times centred largely in the school-men and in the Dominican order of friars, and found its home for the most part in the universities. From this time on edu- cation tends to become secular: at first by falling more and more into the hands of the secular clergy. During the two following centuries the monastic schools lost much of their prestige; and the old cathedral schools, with new life and influence, the newer guild and city schools, the schools established in connection with many collegiate and parish churches and the schools of in- dependent foundations, such as Winchester and Eton in England, now tend to take the place once wholly occupied by the monastic schools. True, the monastic schools yet exist in great numbers, and the teachers of the new schools, most of whom were clerics, included many of the regular orders, but the educational work of these institutions belonged rather to the past. This Is evidenced by the fact that in 1538, when Platter had become a teacher, a committee of cardinals rec- ommended to Pope Paul IV that these orders be suppressed.

The one of these orders that was abreast of the times in educational matters was The Brethren of the Com- mon Life, organized by Gerard Groot, at Deventer, Holland, in 1376. Platter speaks of visiting a famous School, dominated by the spirit, though not officially controlled by this order, that at Schlettstadt; and here he first became inoculated with the spirit which wrought such a change in his life and directed him into his future work.

CATHEDRAL SCHOOLS.—Among the other schools which Platter visited were those connected with the cathedrals at Breslau, Zurich, Strassburg, Basel, and these for the most part were the best of the schools with which he came in contact. This is indicative of the character of these schools; for the best work dur- ing the later middle ages, at least, was done in cathe- dral or canonical schools rather than in the monastic or cloistral schools. The cathedral schools were older than the monastic schools and were in closer contact with the people, though designed primarily for the training of the clergy. From the earliest time each bishop must provide a school for the training of his clergy; so that such schools became a part of the epis- copal organizations and were ordinarily provided for either in the work of some definite officer of the estab- lishment or by some special foundation. During the later middle ages this was ordinarily done by chantry foundations, that is, by bequests for the support of priests whose chief function was that of saying masses for purposes designated by the founder; and as they were ordinarily relieved from most of the routine duties of the secular priesthood, they could be assigned to the work of teaching. This, though a frequent duty, was only one of the many special duties to which the chantry priests might be assigned.

Dating from the earliest period of the history of the Christian Church, the cathedral schools were of great importance during the earlier centuries, but lost much of their influence during the period of the migrations and of the dominance of the monastic orders. A general revival dates from Gregory VII of the twelfth century, who gave special injunctions to the bishops to strengthen these schools. On account of their greater freedom, they offered a better soil for the growing interest in learning, especially in its secular aspects. It is true, however, that in many regions, even during the cen- turies following this time, the monastic orders con- trolled the cathedral schools and furnished the teachers therein. Ordinarily, however, the teachers were drawn from the secular clergy, and their students were de- signed for the same service. While these chantry and special foundations were designed especially for priests as teachers, many also were for the support of students who were in almost every case prospective priests. The instruction, however, was often open to the laity, and in the later middle ages, when the clergy did not absorb all learning, numerous lay scholars did attend. Plat- ter's account of Breslau indicates how generous a pro- vision was made for such students. This is especially true of the wandering students when they come to form a distinct class, and when the secular foundations give to them many of the privileges that were furnished so lavishly by the monastic foundations for the regulars. One aspect of the work of these schools did not vary from that found in connection with most churches, even in the smaller parishes: that was the training of the choristers, which necessitated some knowledge of the Latin, at least to the degree of memorizing the church services. This work, assigned to some priest, probably on a chantry foundation as well, was called the singing-school. But the more advanced work was that of the grammar-school, which included, until the founding of the universities, the most advanced study of the times. During the later mediaeval centuries these schools were far more friendly to the new spirit and the new learning than were the monastic schools, and were more closely in touch with the economic and po- litical aspirations of the cities, and hence were more tolerant and more progressive in their work. Conse- quently, when among the Germanic peoples the renais- sance and the reformation movement fused, these schools were often important sources of influence.

This is well illustrated in Platter’s account of the cathe- dral school of Zurich under Myconius. PARISH SCHOOLS.—Recent investigations have com- pelled the abandonment of the view so commonly held among protestant peoples that there were few school privileges previous to the reformation. It now seems that the number of schools and the opportunity for schooling were considerably greater for one century, probably two, before the beginning of the reformation than for the same length of time afterward. This is altogether aside from the question concerning the char- acter of that education and the number of people it reached. Previous to the reformation it is probable that almost every parish had a school either in connection with the church or supported by the guild or burgher organizations. For the most part these schools in con- nection with the parish churches were of the most elementary character. The parish priest found it neces- sary to train the boys for the choral services and re- sponses of the church, and gave in connection with this some elementary religious and secular instruction. Such training included not only those boys who were destined for the priesthood, but necessarily many others as well. Connected with this would often be the rudi- mentary religious instruction to all the boys of the parish. However, the “singing-school” was something more than the rudimentary Sunday-school. One such school is the first which Platter attends, at Gasen, be- fore he begins his peregrinations. Here the training in singing, the training connected with the celebration of the mass, the begging and collecting of eggs from the villagers, together with beatings so severe that the neighbours had to interfere to save him from the cruelty of the priest, comprised his education; and this was probably fairly representative of the work of such schools. Beyond this, instruction does not penetrate into the rural and smaller town parishes.

In the larger parishes of the cities, such as Halle, Dresden, Breslau, Ulm, Munich, Nuremberg, Naum- burg, etc., Platter found quite different schools. Sup- ported ordinarily by chantry or special foundations, cared for often by collegiate organizations little less powerful and wealthy than the cathedral chapter, such schools as these differed very little from those controlled directly by the bishop. Ordinarily they were grammar- schools, doing the same kind of work and in the same manner as the most advanced schools, however con- trolled. These, through their greater number, were probably the most important type of all. Collegiate schools, chantry schools, parish schools, even some of the guild and burgher schools would thus be included in this group of parish schools. For many of them were established in connection with the parish churches by the town authorities. The scholasticus, or cathedral authority, who had charge of educational matters, usually opposed the establishment of these burgher schools in connection with parish churches, but from the middle of the fourteenth century on the tendency was too strong to be checked.

The account which Platter gives indicates that the work of these parish schools was up to the average; better in some places, Breslau for example, than that of the cathedral school. The account which he gives of Breslau is quite remarkable. This city, divided into seven parishes, supported a school of this higher type in each parish. They were frequented by these wander- ing scholars, to the number of 1,000 in all, for whom provision in the way of instruction, rooms, and even food seems to have been provided gratis. Evidently in this city the church before the reformation was not neglecting its educational duty. The work of these schools, as indicated by Platter, does not vary from the usual accounts. There were long, dreary months on Donatus, until it was learned by heart, though with little understanding of its contents; further study of some later texts for purpose of drill in the paradigms; the exposition of some text, such as Terence, with “de- termining” and “defining”; and finally some elemen- tary work in dialectics, with disputations. “What one reads must first be dictated, then defined, then con- strued, and only then could be explained,” is Platter's account of the work at Breslau. No wonder “ that the bacchants had to carry away great miserable books” when all this was written down.

GUILD AND BURGHER SCHOOLS.—Schools owing their origin to secular initiative, controlled and supported by secular authorities, and often giving instruction in the vernacular instead of, or in addition to, that in the Latin, became quite common in German countries after the middle of the fourteenth century. Of necessity, these were usually taught by secular priests, and the method and much of the subject-matter were the same as that of the ecclesiastically controlled schools. As previously mentioned, many of these secular schools sprang up, through the increase in size of the towns, and through the demands for more practical education; the local authorities established them in connection with parish churches, either with the consent of the cathe- dral chapter or in defiance of it. Another influence contributing to the development of secular schools was that of the merchants, craft, or “social” guilds. Some- times these “social” guilds were composed of priests or clerks, and are hardly to be distinguished from ordi- nary parish schools. The mediaeval guilds ordinarily supported in some church a priest or a chapel or an altar; if a priest, his duties were manifold, including all those connected with the sacraments, and the great occasions in life, and often in addition the schooling of the children of the members of the guild. Not infrequently the priest's function in this respect ex- tended beyond the children of the membership. Such mention as the following taken from the Report of the Commissioner of Edward VI (Toulmin Smith, Ordi- nances of English Guilds—in Old English Text So- ciety, p. 205) are very frequent.

Regarding the Guild of St. Nicholas, of Worcester, it is stated: “there hath byn tyme owt of mynde, a ffree scole kept within the said citie, in a grete halle belongyng to the said Guylde, called Trynite Halle; the scolemaster whereof for the tyme beyng hath hade yerely, for his stypend, ten pounds; whereof was paid, owt of the revenues of the said landes, by the Master and Stewards of the said Guylde for the tyme beyng, vj, li, xii j. s. iii j. d.; And the resydewe of the said stypend was collected and gathered of the denocioun and benyvolence of the brothers and systers of the said Guylde. . . . They prowyded and have founde an honest and lernyed scolemaster, within the said halle, in lyke manner as they before tyme dyd; that is to say, one John Obyner, bacheler of arts; who hath there, at this present tyme, a boue the number of a hundred scolers.”

With the coalescing of the guild organization and the early municipal government these schools, along with many of the parish schools mentioned above, became the burgher schools. Such schools were wholly con- trolled and supported by the secular authorities, and in the content of the school-work better represented the economic interests and demands of the citizens. They were often taught by priests, though lay teachers be- came more numerous. Clerical inspection and super- vision was yet universal both before and after the ref- ormation.

Yet one other factor led to the development of these burgher schools, though it is of little direct interest in this discussion: these were the private schools. With the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries greater freedom of initiative in school matters was evident, and private schools became numerous. These were usually of most elementary character, and giving a grade of work in- ferior to church schools, though probably much of it was of more practical character. Hence the ground of their support. They frequently escaped all ecclesiastical supervision through the church authorities, though the scholasticus, or some other episcopal officer or parish priest, sought to extend his jurisdiction over them— often not without success. However irregular all this was, it yet contributed to the development of indepen- dent town schools. -

These private schools do not figure in Platter's ac- count; but the school which Platter established, and to which he gives the most of his life, the gymnasium, is one of the earliest of the new type of schools. In time these came to be the highest type of the German municipal school.

THE WANDERING SCHOLARS The wandering life, often adopted by the students of the later middle ages, was an outgrowth of several phases of earlier mediaeval life, such as the habits of the wandering priests, of the pilgrims both clerical and lay, of the crusaders, and of the itinerant merchants and craftsmen.

The wandering priest appears quite early in the his- tory of the Christian Church in the West. According to Giesebrecht,” as early as the first quarter of the fifth century there are found complaints against this class of the clergy. There are also regulations dating from this period that no bishop should consecrate a priest that did not have the care of a congregation. Synesius, bishop of Ptolemais (from 410 to 431), makes com- plaint of such priests as prefer the wandering life to the settled living, calling them bakantiboi, a term practically the same as that applied in later centuries to the wandering scholars. . By the time of the cru- sades this class of the clergy, clerici vagantes, was recognised as a permanent body, though the popes had repeatedly issued injunctions and decrees to the effect that bishops consecrating priests without parishes should be personally responsible for the maintenance of such priests. These wandering priests are familiar through mediaeval tale or modern story of mediaeval

* Quoted in Schmid, Encyclopedie des Erzeihungs-und Unter- richtswesens, vol. i. p. 338 et seq.

life as chaplains and companions of knight and baron and all classes of the nobility and gentry. The pilgrimage and, later, the crusades gave a moral ap- proval to the wandering life as followed temporarily by both clergy and laity, and led to its wide-spread adoption, especially among the lower orders of the clergy. Not only among those moved especially by religious motives, but also among all classes of society, the feeling of unrest grew out of the crusades and be- came established as a permanent feature of the life of the late mediaeval centuries. As a characteristic of the chivalric orders, this trait is familiar to all. It spread widely also among the commercial and industrial classes. Here again one phase of mediaeval life that is sufficiently familiar may be recalled: that of the wan- dering salesman as well as that of the travelling mer- chant. But not so well known is a similar custom among craftsmen for the purpose of improving their skill and of discovering new methods and new wares. The traditional visits of the apprentices of South Ger- many to Nuremberg, tested by the knowledge of the hidden movable ring—in the Schonne Brunnen— furnishes a general illustration. But the mere desire for travel and for the relaxation of rather rigid moral and religious ideals, if not of practices, prompted many to adopt, for a time at least, a similar mode of life. To this was frequently, perhaps usually, joined a simi- lar motive, namely, curiosity, or even the love of knowl- edge. Undoubtedly this custom as well as this motive were important factors in building up the early uni- versities in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. The migration of students, which yet remains a university tradition among the Teutonic nations, was then a mat- ter of necessity owing to the specialization of the early universities. Each was strong in some one line, even where the four faculties and the school of arts were all represented. The reputation of individual teach- ers also did much to encourage this migration, since the special student in any given department could only by such means acquire the knowledge desired. Much later, during the renaissance period of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, these tendencies were perpetuated, and for the time being accentuated both by the great influence exerted by a few scholars of reputation, and also by the fact that but few universities were wholly hospitable towards the new learning.

The traditions of the wandering scholars were formed during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. During that time also the wandering clergy seem to have be- come identified with the wandering scholars. A common meeting-place and centre of attraction was furnished by the new institutions of learning—the uni- versities. To these the younger clergy, or those in the minor orders, flocked in great numbers; this was the same class from which had been drawn for the most part the clerici, vagantes, who now became the scholares vagantes. They still claimed all the privileges of the clergy, but accepted few of their responsibilities. They boasted of their freedom, even of their license; and en- tertained a scorn, born of this license, for the vows assumed by the regular and the secular clergy. On the other hand, they assumed all the superiority over the laity that was the privilege of the clergy, and showed frequently a contempt for them that could be ac- counted for only by a total lack of any feeling of obliga- tion to them. They became a characteristic feature of the life of the country as do the students now in the university towns, and came in for some severe criticism on account of their freer life and more liberal thought. Giesebrecht * quotes the contemporary Monk Helinaud as follows: “The scholars are accustomed to wander throughout the whole world and visit all the cities; and their many studies bring them understand- ing; for in Paris they seek a knowledge of the liberal arts; of the ancient writers at Orleans; of medicine at Salernum; of the black art at Toledo; and in no place decent manners.” This last characterization seems to have been well deserved, for it is this trait which finally gave them their class name. As a result of these well-developed class traits and class feeling, they begin to appear as a clearly defined body, a sort of corporation.

This tradition of the wandering scholar was simply

# Allgemeine Monatschrift für Wissenschaft und Literature, 1851.

one aspect of the universal mediaeval tendency towards the organization of special interests and special classes. The students in permanent residence incorporated themselves into the Nations, the constituent units of the early universities. The very much smaller number who accepted the wandering custom as a permanent mode of life strengthened the bond of their fraternal life by giving adherence to a titular Magister or patron saint, one Golias or Golias Episcopus, from whom they were called goliardi or goliardenses. In all prob- ability Golias and the succeeding masters of the order were hypothetical personages; but certainly the rule of his customs was more than shadow, and so also was the brotherhood. The term goliardus, which in this earlier period is synonymous with wandering student, is to be connected, according to Wright, with gula, and indi- cates their gluttonous and intemperate habits. When it comes to be used in this definite sense the group it includes is a much narrower one than that of all wan- dering students, and the term indicates more particu- larly that group which had accepted this type of life as a permanent calling, much after the manner of the minstrels among the laity. The typical goliards were the more riotous, unthrifty, unambitious students who were hangers on of the higher clergy or who wandered from palace to palace of the ecclesiastical lords. Never- theless, it is probable that their pleasures and their vices as well as their songs and literature were those common to all the wandering students, and that the line be- tween the wandering student and the locati, or those with permanent abode, was a vague one. From the middle of the twelfth to the middle of the thirteenth centuries the goliards produced a body of literature, chiefly in the form of songs.” Most of these songs relate to the pleasures and in- cidents of the vagabond life. There is very little of high moral sentiment in them; many of them are quite the reverse. They do not possess the charm furnished by the heroic element in the poems of chivalry. A few refer to the more serious aspects of life, and these par- ticularly to its brevity. Many are satires on the clergy, so that Golias seems to become a representative through which the vices of the clergy are satirized in a true Rabelaisian form. As a representative of unrestrained indulgence Golias may at times serve rather as a foil to attack the clergy than to represent the wandering student. In this connection Wright calls attention to the significance of the vernacular translations of sev- eral of these satirical poems of the goliards during the sixteenth century reformation.

(*An edition entitled Carmina Burana was published in 1847 at Stuttgart from a thirteenth century manuscript that had been dis- covered in a Benedictine Convent in Southern Bavaria. An edition of a collection of these from various English sources was issued by Thomas Wright in 1841, under the title “Latin Poems Commonly Attributed to Walter Mapes.” An English translation of several of these poems has been made by John Addington Symonds under the title “Wine, Women and Song,” with an American reprint, in 1899.)

Most of them, however, are frank presentations of the pleasures of drinking and of gaming. Many also relate to “love in many phases and for divers kinds of women.” This euphemism conceals a frankness present in the poems that would not now be tolerated. One of the longer poems, popular during the thirteenth century, and reappearing in vernacular form in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, is the Apocalypsis Goliae, or “The Revelation of Golias, the Bishop,” a parody upon the Apocalypse of St. John. Unto Golias appeared Pythag- oras among the golden candlesticks: “Upon his forehead fair Astrologie did shine— And Gramer stode alonge his teethe arowe, And Retheroick did springe within his hollowe eyen, And in his troublinge lippes did all of Logick flowe, And in his fingers eke did Arithmetik lie, Within his hollow pulse did Musick finelie place, And in both his eien stode pale Geometrie; Thus eche one of these Artes in his own place did staire.” Thus equipped, Pythagoras leads his pupil through a world peopled with strange things; Aristotle fighting against the air, Tullius scanning words, Ptolemy gaz- ing at the stars and the entire galaxy of ancient lights that appeared dimly to the mediaeval vision. The seven books with seven seals that are opened unto him contain the deeds of the bishops and the great churchmen. The four beasts are: the lion which represents the pope, “ac- customed to devour”; a calf, like unto the bishop, “that gnaws and chews and thus fills himself with goods of other men’’; an eagle, who is the archdeacon, “that sees afar its prey’; and the fourth, like unto a man, represents the dean, “who hides as best he can the guile with which he is filled.”

The satire of the former is a typical representative of the bitter attacks upon the sins of the clergy of all ranks, and incidentally upon the formalism in learning and the false value attributed to it by the clergy. The archdeacons are represented as sparing some time from their concubines and their harlotries in order to

“Commande the deane, if any priest be known, A datyve case to make, by anie gendringe state, That then the plaintyve shall him call and bring full down, To save his brethren's lyves, and keepe them from hell gate.”

While this poem is indicative of the attitude of these students towards the church, or rather towards the prac- tices of many of the clergy of this time, the practices of the students themselves are evidently not much bet- ter, save that there is less pretence and less violence. More indicative of the life of the order than these long satires are the briefer songs which bespeak the real inward life of its members. The most important of these is the titular song of the order. This is a sort of commission to the members of the order that they go forth with their message of life to all communities, to lure adherents from among all the various grade of the clergy. Among the classes that made up the order, the one enumerated that is of special importance for its bearing upon our general subjects, is that composed of “masters with their bands of boys’ who find a place among the monks, parish priest, higher clergy, scholars, and other recruits. After indicating that the other classes in society are their fair prey, the poem relates the joys of the vaga- bond life, that possesses all the freedom from cares of personal possession that a member of the clergy has without the disadvantage of his corresponding obli- gations. The entire song as given in modern form by Mr. Symonds is worth presenting as an index of their ideals of life.

ON THE ORDER OF WANDERING STUDENTS

At the mandate, Go ye forth, Through the whole world hurry! Priests tramp out toward south and north, Monks and hermits skurry, Levites smooth the gospel leave, Bent on ambulation; Each and all to our sect cleave, Which is life’s Salvation. In this sect of Ours 'tis writ: Prove all things in season; Weigh this life and judge of it By your riper reason; 'Gainst all evil clerks be you Steadfast in resistance, Who refuse large tithe and due Unto your subsistence. Marquesses, Bavarians, Austrians and Saxons, Noblemen and chiefs of clans, Glorious by your actions! Listen, comrades all, I pray, To these new decretals: Misers they must meet decay, Niggardly gold-beetles. We the laws of charity Found, nor let them crumble; For into our order we Take both high and humble; Rich and poor men we receive, In our bosom cherish; Welcome those the shavelings leave At their doors to perish. We receive the tonsured monk, Let him take his pittance; And the parson with his punk, If he craves admittance; Masters with their bands of boys, Priests with high dominion; But the scholar who enjoys Just one coat's our minion!

This our sect doth entertain Just men and unjust ones; Halt, lame, weak of limb or brain, Strong men and robust ones; Those who flourish in their pride, Those whom age makes stupid. Frigid folk and hot folk fried In the fires of Cupid. Tranquil souls and bellicose, Peacemaker and foeman; Czech and Hun, and mixed with those German, Slav, and Roman; Men of middling size and weight, Dwarfs and giants mighty; Men of modest heart and state, Vain men, proud and flighty. Of the Wanderers’ Order I Tell the Legislature— They whose life is free and high, Gentle too their nature— They who rather scrape a fat Dish in gravy swimming, Than in sooth to marvel at Barns with barley brimming. Now this order, as I ken, Is called sect or section, Since its sectaries are men Divers in complexion;

Therefore hic and haec and hoc Suit it in declension, Since so multiform a flock Here finds comprehension. This our order hath decried Matins with a warning; For that certain phantoms glide In the early morning, Whereby pass into man's brain Visions of vain folly; Early risers are insane, Racked by melancholy. This our order doth proscribe All the year round matins; When they’ve left their beds, our tribe In the tap sing latins; There they call for wine for all, Roasted fowl and chicken; Hazard's threats no hearts appal, Though his strokes still thicken. This Our Order doth forbid Double clothes with loathing; He whose nakedness is hid With one vest hath clothing; Soon one throws his cloak aside At the dice-box” calling; Next his girdle is untied, While the cards are falling.

What I’ve said of upper clothes To the nether reaches; They who own a shirt, let those Think no more of breeches; If one boasts big boots to use, Let him leave his gaiters; They who this firm law refuse Shall be counted traitors. No one, none shall wander forth Fasting from the table; If thou’rt poor, from south and north Beg as thou are able! Hath it not been often seen That one coin brings many, When a gamester on the green Stakes his lucky penny? No one on the road should walk 'Gainst the wind—'tis madness; Nor in poverty shall stalk With a face of sadness; Let him bear him bravely then, Hope sustain his spirit; After heavy trials men Better luck inherit! While throughout the world you rove, Thus uphold your banner; Give these reasons why you prove Hearts of men and manners;

“To reprove the reprobate, Probity approving, Improbate from approbate To remove, I’m moving.”

Altogether their songs possess many striking re- semblances to the songs of modern college students, which are not to be taken too seriously as representa- tive of their lives. The same regard for form and sound rather than sense, of delight in scholastic quib- bling, is found. This, however, can also be best stated in the words of Symonds, who sums up his study of these poems as follows:

“A large portion of these pieces, including a ma- jority of the satires and longer descriptive poems, are composed in measures borrowed from hymnology, fol- lowing the diction of the church, and imitate the double-rhyming rhythms of her sequences. It is not unnatural, this being the case, that parodies of hymns should be comparatively common. . . . Those which do not exhibit popular hymn measures are clearly writ- ten for melodies, some of them very complicated in structure, suggesting part songs and madrigals, with curious interlacing of long and short lines, double and single rhymes, recurrent ritournelles, and so forth. The ingenuity with which these poets adapted their language to exigencies of the tune, taxing the fertility of Latin rhymes, and setting off the long sonorous words to great advantage, deserves admiring comment. At their worst these Latin lyrics, moulded on a tune, de- generate into disjointed verbiage, sound and adapta- tion to song prevailing over sense and satisfaction to the mind.”

During the latter half of the thirteenth century a decided opposition to the goliards grew up among the clergy, and then decrees were issued by bishops and synods forbidding priests to ally themselves with the order. So while they were separated from the laity by the immunities of the clergy, they yet became dis- tinguished from the clergy. Their character, at least in France, sunk even below that of the minstrels of the secular nobility, and they fell in dignity until they were classed with or probably included the multitude of wan- dering quacks, wizards, and sharps. While they yet possessed this function of minstrelsy to the clergy, many of them more commonly frequented the homes of the peasantry, and they led in the incipient peasant revolts against the clergy. Frequent complaints were made of their entering churches and singing parodies on the hymns of the church.*

With the disappearance of the goliards a new type of wandering scholars became prominent, the type already partially indicated by the line from the song of the order—“Masters with their bands of boys.” The founding of the many chantry schools, and guild or

* Schmid, Encyclopedie des Erzeihungs-und Unterrichtswesens, vol. i., p. 338.

municipal schools previously mentioned, was responsi- ble for this custom. Students now of much greater youth than the university students, or the typical goli- ards of the preceding centuries, adopted the migratory life. Many of these were students of the rudiments of grammar and dialectic; and, on the other hand, there were many among them who were wandering teachers of these rudiments, at the same time that they pursued higher studies. Drawn both by the love of book-learn- ing and the desire for that knowledge of the world which come from contact with the chief cities of Eu- rope, or at least of some one country, and by the easy living made possible by the many religious founda- tions and by the toleration of begging, there came to be a vast army of these wandering students during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Platter mentions that there were more than a thousand in Breslau at one time. His statement that there were some hundreds of bed-chambers or cells in the one school of St. Elizabeth in the same city indicates how these students were cared for. -

The term bacchants (baccantes) was now definitely applied to these wandering scholars (scholares vagan- tes). Different derivations are given for the word. It is possible that in its present application various influences contributed to the adoption of the term. The simplest derivation is that from Bacchus, since the general use of the word designates a follower of the god of wine. Again, it may be found, in the tran- sition, common in mediaeval times from v to b, and from g to k or to ce in the form vagantes, and hence may merely indicate those leading the wandering life. Or, in this particular application of the sixteenth cen- tury, it may have some reference to the method * by which these roving boys supplied the wants of their mas- ter students, since the pilfering of farm products was generally adopted by the students and tolerated by the people, and termed by them “shooting.” However, since the term was used, as previously noted, in the fifth century, to indicate the wandering priests, the same meaning is probably the primary one also at the close of the middle ages. These students not only frequented the town schools, but they often taught in private fam- ilies for brief periods, and frequently some took charge of young boys—not yet in their teens—ostensibly in order to give them the rudiments of knowledge, really in order that the boys might provide their bacchants with food from day to day. These boys form, at least in Ger- many, f an additional class of wandering scholars quite distinct and quite numerous, called A B C shooters * Schmid derives the term from Baccantice, to shoot: but I find no etymological authority for such a derivation. + From Platter's own account it appears that the wandering students were not numerous in Switzerland, and that the custom of student-begging was not tolerated there. Jusserand, in his Eng- lish Wayfaring Life in the Middle Ages, makes no mention what- ever of the wandering students.

(schützen). This term is derived from the two-fold ref- erence to their elementary studies and to their method of gaining a living, since they indulged in the half- authorized, or at least tolerated, custom just mentioned. These thefts often took the form of securing domestic fowls by throwing, and the entire custom was termed “shooting.” The significance of Platter's story is that he gives us in greater detail than is to be found any- where else an account of the lives of these bacchants and shooters. Hence even so trivial a thing as the throwing at the goose and the subsequent chase become full of meaning in the light it throws upon the typical life of a student of the fifteenth century, and upon the use of terms that persist to the present time. For there prob- ably exists some connection between the sixteenth-cen- tury use of the term and our expression “teaching the young idea how to shoot.” The life of the bacchants and shooters is given in detail by Platter, and is supplement- ed by Butzbach * and other more fragmentary evidence. How little these students studied is indicated by Plat- ter's confession, after nine years of wandering, that “had my life depended on it, I could not have declined a noun of the first declension.” That he was not alone in this condition is seen from the comparison he makes with his fellow-students in the school at Schlettstadt; and upon the part of his bacchants there is little or no

* Johannes Butzbach, Hodoporicon, or Little Book of Wandering; see Whitcomb, Source Book of the Renaissance, p. 80. Also Butz- bach, Chronica, Regensburg, 1879.

interest shown in learning, but solely in an easy living gained through the begging abilities of the shooters. The extreme to which this form of charity on the part of the people and of mendicancy on the part of the students was carried seems hardly credible. At Breslau, so numerous were these students or beggars that the city was divided into sections, each assigned to students that had attached themselves to given schools. At Nu- remberg a similar division was made, and each school divided up its pupils into groups of ten, each successive group being assigned in turn to do the daily begging. Two of each group carried huge baskets, holding two or three bushels, each basket adorned with the picture of the patron saint of the school. When full, these were carried to the school, where the spoils were divided by the rectors of the school. Illustrations of these begging students with their huge baskets are still pre- served.* The custom of taking the entire schools upon a singing tour throughout the city on certain even- ings usually preceding feasts was another profitable source of income. Where such large numbers of stu- . dents were in constant residence, the city council, as at Nuremberg, controlled their customs by ordinances. Students thus attached permanently to given schools were termed locati in distinction to the vagantes. This

* Emil Reicke, Monographien zur deutschen Kulturgeschichte, Band 9. Der Lehrer. Many additional details concerning this phase of student life are given in this volume.

was the stage presumably striven for and reached by each of the older bacchants as they became able to teach, especially in the numerous municipal and guild schools. However, it is evident from Platter’s narrative that the pleasures and the easy life of the vagantes often furnished greater attractions than did the hon- ours and responsibilities of a fixed position in a school. After the separation from the Church of Rome was accomplished, Luther, in one of his admonitions con- cerning the establishment of schools, refers to the old schools as follows: “Such towns as will not have good teachers, now that they can be gotten, ought, as for- merly, to have locati and bacchantes—stupid asses who cost money enough and yet teach their pupils nothing but to become asses like themselves.”

The many changes in the school system wrought by the reformation and the renaissance put an end to the life of the wandering scholars, at least of the grade of bacchants and shooters, in the Teutonic countries. Owing to the great diversity in the attitudes of the old institutions to the new learning, many students con- tinued to adopt the wandering life. The term bacchant is soon restricted to the students entering upon a uni- versity course, the beani,” or “foxes,” around whom centres so much that is objectionable in the university life of the times. The deposition of these students,

*Rashdall, University of the Middle Ages, vol. ii, part ii, chapter xiv, Student Life and Customs.

similar to modern hazing of freshmen, finally took such extreme form as to require the action of national legis- lation to bring the students under control. By this time, however, the wandering student, in the mediaeval sense, had almost ceased to exist, and the term was applied to a different type.

THE REVIVAL OF THE IDEA OF THE LIBERAL EDUCATION    Platter's experience furnishes one of the clearest con- crete instances of the close connection between the gen- eral movement in humanism and the more definite changes in educational and religious practices during the sixteenth century. His educational conversion is little less striking, certainly no less decided and sharp, than his conversion to the protestant beliefs and prac- tices. Platter himself says nothing of this broader relationship of his work and little to show that he ap- preciated the broader aspects of the humanistic move- ment. In fact, he reveals the rather common sixteenth- century belief, the prevailing North European concep- tion of the humanistic movement, that it concerned two things, namely, a broader and more intimate knowl- edge of the classical languages and literature and a reformation in the Church. Consequently, it may be well to call attention to the more fundamental aspects of this movement not clearly indicated in Platter's narrative.

While the most striking objective feature of the re- naissance was the desire to master the language of the Greeks and of the Classical Latinists, a devotion to their literature and a passion for the possession of manuscripts and books, the all too rare palladium of these treasures, yet a far more significant characteristic lay beneath all these, namely, a desire to rediscover and to re-create the ideals and practices of life as well as the language of these masters of the ancient days. Edu- cationally, there was the attempt to re-establish the lib- eral education existent in the writings, if not in reality, in the times of Plato, of Cicero, and of Quintilian. The ideal of a liberal education finds many followers and some exemplars, especially among the Latin peo- ples, though with the Teutonic peoples and the six- teenth century the broader ideal had narrowed down to that conception which is found embodied in the lat- ter work of Platter, who found no more place for the physical and social element in education, and but little more for the aesthetic, than did that scheme of educa- tion revealed in the account of his early life. The change to him meant little more than a devotion to the language and some portions of the literature of the Romans and Greeks, and, when the new literary motive is combined with the religious, to the Hebrew language and biblical literature as well.

Writing in 1392 on Liberal Education, Vergerius, one of the early renaissance educators of Italy, defines the meaning of education in the following terms: “We call those studies liberal which are worthy of a free man; those studies by which we attain and practise virtue and wisdom; that education which calls forth, trains, and develops those highest gifts of body and of mind which ennoble men and which are rightly judged to rank next in dignity to virtue only.” “ It is in this spirit that many of the early renaissance educators worked, a spirit, it must be confessed, that was unex- pressed, probably wholly unrecognised by Platter and by most of his contemporaries. Erasmus, writing about that time, makes the following statement about the purpose and content of studies: “Knowledge seems to be of two kinds: that of things and that of words. That of words comes first, that of things is the more important. . . . So, then, having acquired the ability to speak, if not volubly, certainly with correctness, next the mind must be directed to a knowledge of things.” Rabelais, a contemporary of Platter, writes, in the words of a father to his son, in the same spirit: “There should be enkindled in thee the qualities of the soul, by which alone shalt thou be judged as the guardian and keeper of the immortality of our name; and my pleasure in seeing this would be small if that the least

* De Ingenuis Moribus in Woodward's Witterino de Feltra, pp. 102, et seq.

part in me, which is the body, should remain, and the best, which is the soul, and through which alone our name may be a blessing to men, should be degenerate and bastard. The which I say through no distrust of thy virtue, which has been already proven to me, but the rather to encourage thee to strive on from good to better. And what I herein write is not so much that thou shouldst live in this thy virtuous course, but that thou shouldst rejoice in so living and in so having lived, refreshing thyself thereby with courage for the future. To perfect and consummate which end, I may remind thee how I have spared nothing; but so have propped thee up as if I had no other treasure in the world save in the seeing of thee, during my life, whole and perfect, equally in virtue, honesty, and valour, as in all liberal and right knowledge; and so to leave thee after my death, as a mirror reflecting me thy father, and if not to bring thee to such a point of excellence as I might wish, still to inspire the thirst for its attainment.” This conception of the educated man is to be worked out, according to Rabelais, through a scheme of educa- tion as broad as the renaissance movement itself, and yet it is not so much the scheme of studies that is broader than that of Platter and the humanistic school- men as it is the conception of the aim and meaning of it all. The scheme of studies follows: “I expect and desire that thou shouldst learn perfectly the languages. First Greek, as Quintilian advises; secondly, Latin; and then Hebrew, because of the Holy Scriptures. Likewise Chaldee and Arabic; and form thy style, as to Greek, after Plato; as to Latin, after Cicero. Let there be no history which is not firm in thy memory, to which end cosmography will help thee. Of the liberal arts, I gave thee a taste of geometry, arithmetic, and music when thou wast still little, no older than five or six; pursue the rest and search out all the laws of astronomy. As to astrology and the Lullian art, leave them; they are abuses and vanities. Know by heart the texts of civil law and compare them with the teachings of philosophy. Now, as to the facts of nature, addict thyself studiously to the learning of them, so that there be no sea, river, or lake of which thou knowest not the fish; so that all the birds of the air, all the plants and fruits of the forest, all the flowers of the soil, all the metals hid in the bowels of the earth, all the gems of the East and South, none shall be foreign to thee. Most carefully pursue the writings of physicians, Greek, Arab, Latin, despising not even the Talmudists and Cabalists; and by frequent searching gain perfect knowledge of the microcosm, man. And at certain hours of the day, turn to the Holy Scriptures. First to the New Testament and Epistles, in Greek, then to the Old Testament, in Hebrew. In short, let me behold in thee an abyss of learning; for, as thou becomest a man and great, thou must come out from this tran- quility and calm of study, learning chivalry and arms, wherewith to defend my house and to succour our dear friends from hurt of evildoers. I would that thou shouldst shortly learn how much thou hast profited, the which thou canst no more easily do than by main- taining theses, publicly against all comers, frequenting, too, the company of the learned.”

Pope Leo X gives expression to a similar conception of the meaning of humanism: “We have been accus- tomed even from our youth, to think that nothing more excellent or more useful to mankind has been given by the Creator to mankind, if we except only the knowledge and true worship of Himself, than these studies, which not only lead to the ornament and guid- ance of human life, but are applicable and useful to every particular situation; in adversity consolatory; in prosperity pleasing and honourable; insomuch that without them we should be deprived of all the grace of life and all the polish of social intercourse.” " | Previous to this (1475) Pius II had written a treat- ise, Concerning a Liberal Education,f embodying a conception as broad as that of the Greeks, from whom it was drawn. Physical training, diet, behaviour, social forms, religion, eloquence, aesthetics, besides the ordi- nary routine of grammar, rhetoric, literature, mathe- matics, and philosophy, are all given place.

* Jebb, in Humanism in Education, pp. 8–9. #AFneas Sylvius, de Liberorum Educatione in Woodward's Vit- terino de Feltra, pp. 136–160.

But it was not to this class that Platter belonged. He presents a typical case of the humanistic educator of the Teutonic countries in that he accepts fully the formal means of education in which the humanists all agree; that is a thorough mastery of the forms of the Latin language, the use of a wide selection of the best classics of that language with some familiarity with the Greek, and possibly the Hebrew language, all culminat- ing in a dialectic which was a combination of the me- diaeval dialectic with the Roman ideal of oratory. The dialectical and oratorical ideals fused, as is seen even earlier in the much broader conception of Witterino de Feltra,” and later in the work of Sturm, Trotzen- dorf, and others to be mentioned. But Platter is also typical, in that while he adopts these educational means he substitutes for the broad conception of a liberal edu- cation one “that gives to a man all the perfection of body, mind, and soul of which he is capable,” a much narrower one derived from the dominant humanistic and religious motive of the north European education of the sixteenth century. This new education of which Platter is a representative is but little broader in its purpose than was the mediaeval scholastic education which preceded it, though much higher in the material which it used and broader in its application to the masses of the people, and hence more potent in its

*See Woodward, Witterino de Feltra and other Humanistic Edu- cators, pp. 1–93; Symonds, Revival of Learning, p. 297; The Cambridge Modern History, vol. i. pp. 556–557. results. This education is humanistic only in the nar- rower sense, humanities conceived as language and lit- erature, and is controlled by a narrow dogmatic spirit foreign to the liberalism of the Greeks and of the early renaissance.

The change in the character of the renaissance move- ment had been spoken of as a narrowing process, since the movement in the early period, and particularly in Italy, was broader, in the sense that its ideal was one of personal development, of personal achievement, of broad self-realization, of attainment to the Greek idea of freedom or of education. It was in that sense, and so as bearing particularly upon the conception of edu- cation from the point of view of the school, that the contrast is unfavourable to the German humanists of whom Platter was a very minor representative. But in another and quite as important sense the German movement was broader even in its educational bearing; that is, classical study, learning, education, were to be encouraged as a whole and were to be directed towards a social, that is a religious, reform. It was an after- growth that the humanistic study came to be directed chiefly to theological formulations; primarily it was towards reform in religious and social practices. Here again the evidence which Platter furnishes being merely incidental and personal, is, though of importance, yet of much less interest than the work of his contem- poraries, so far as it goes.

RENAISSANCE EDUCATIONAL IDEAS IN GERMANY

The dissemination of the humanistic ideas of edu- cation throughout the German countries—in fact, throughout northern Europe—occurred during the lat- ter part of the fifteenth century and the first half of the sixteenth. Their conquest of the German burgher schools might be said to have occurred within the first quarter of the sixteenth century. Before that time the leading universities, such as Heidelberg, Erfurt, and Leipzig, had accepted the new learning and, after Wit- tenberg was founded in 1502 as a humanistic institu- tion, were shortly thereafter reorganized along the same lines. It was under the leadership of such men as Agricola, Erasmus, and Melancthon that the transition was made, and the school-masters who were the imme- diate instruments of this change, though men of minor importance, were pupils of these great leaders. The Order of Brethren of the Common Life to which most of these leaders belonged, either as members or as pupils, has already been mentioned. Among these were Agricola (1443–1485), Hegius (1433–1498), Murmil- lius (1479–1517), Reuchlein (1455–1522). But be- fore all of these in importance stands the work of a pupil of the school at Deventer, Desiderius Erasmus (1466–1536). To him more than to any of these was due the introduction of the humanistic spirit in north- ern Europe—for he was a cosmopolitan in his life as well as in his writings, living in Holland, England, France, Germany, and Switzerland. This educational leadership of Erasmus was exercised in a great variety of ways, though of a most general kind, for he did not come into immediate contact with the humanistic schools of the burgher type, and only for brief periods with the universities, of England, France, Germany, and Italy. His influence, while not exercised directly through schools, was yet profound; he translated and annotated the Scriptures, some of the patristic writ- ings, especially Jerome; he edited many of the Latin classics, such as Cicero, Lucian, Suetonius, Plautus, Seneca, Terence, and published Latin translations of selected works of Aristotle, Euripides, Lucian, Plu- tarch, and Libianus. He translated and wrote gram- mars of the Greek and Latin tongues; he made familiar • through his Adages the sayings of many of the ancients with applications to contemporary religious and educa- tional conditions; he prepared Colloquies or dialogues which came into universal use in the schools and served not only as models of Latin style, but, from their satire . on educational, religious, and social abuses, also as tre- mendous instruments of reform. Through such works as the Praise of Folly he led in the work of reform in these abuses. But besides these things, which give Erasmus the leadership in this educational reform of the sixteenth century, he wrote directly upon the sub- ject of education. In his Order of Studies * he gives his ideas as to the authors and texts to be studied and the methods to be followed. But he emphasizes also his be- lief that things as well as words should be studied, and 1– that this study should go along with the study of words. In fact, he holds that the knowledge of reality is more important than the study of words or of litera- ture, and in this puts himself beyond the narrower tendency of sixteenth-century humanism. He admits that the study of words must come first, and holds that our chief knowledge of reality comes from the ancients, but at the same time there should be an independent study of things if for no other reason at least because such a knowledge assists in the interpreta- tion of passages from the classical authors. Hence his text-books and writings have a most immediate and practical bearing on life. True, his position in regard to the reform movement in the Church was unsatis- factory to both parties, and consequently he has been accused of cowardice; yet, notwithstanding this, his in- fluence was the most important force in the general movement in social reform in the sixteenth century, and especially in the educational aspect of it. Others of his writings that bear directly upon education are those connected with the controversy with the “Cice- ronians,” and gave rise to his dialogue bearing that

* De Ratione Studii in Crenius's Consilia et Methodi Aureae Studiorum Optime Instituendorum.

title. The design of this dialogue and of the contro- versial writings preceding it, is to ridicule the ex- tremely narrow conception of those humanists of the times who considered the sole aim of education to be the development of the ability to use the Ciceronian Latin. Not only was the power of written and spoken language to be determined by the usage of Tully, but no subject was of sufficient interest to be studied or noticed if not originally found in the Ciceronian writ- ings. No Latin texts were to be used except those allied in style to Cicero, or such as would give oppor- tunity for practical conversational use. Erasmus ac- cepted the Ciceronian conception of the educated man, that is, the orator, but he held the doctrine enunciated in the work on that subject by the master, that the orator must first of all be a man, and that education was directed primarily towards the production of that result.

The humanistic leader whose influence was of the same general nature as that of Erasmus but worked directly upon the schools was Philip Melancthon (1497– 1560). Melancthon exerted a general influence through much the same channels as did Erasmus, though re- stricted more to the German people. As a university lecturer, throughout most of his long life, he was the greatest direct inspiration of this half-century to hu- manistic study; as the translator or editor of classical texts, he re-enforced this influence; as the author of grammars of the Greek and Latin languages and of various school-books, he made the approach to these studies much easier for the youth. Among the text- books are manuals of logic, of rhetoric, of physics, and of ethics. Melancthon's activity in respect to organiza- . tion of subjects for schools was little less comprehensive than the scope of his university lectures, which cov- ered almost every subject. His many addresses—in- . augural, dedicatory, etc.—giving his conception of the humanistic education, are little more than pleas for the study of philosophy and of the Greek and Latin clas- sics, and of the Hebrew language, as an approach to the scriptures. In more direct ways than these, which are general methods of influence on education exerted by the humanists, Melancthon gave shape to the Ger- . man system of education to such an extent that he was given the title, “Preceptor of Germany.” He drew up the plans of study for a great number of the gym- nasia, as the new humanistic schools came to be called by this time, and was consulted by city magistrates and educators in the shaping of many more. A second means of direct influence was through his pupils; it was estimated that by the middle of the sixteenth century there were few if any of these schools in Germany that had not at least one of Melancthon's pupils as a teacher. Among them were many of the most noted rectors of these schools, such as Neander, Trotzendorf, and Camerarius. Finally, in the plan of schools which he drew up for the Elector of Saxony and which was published in 1528 as a part of the gen- eral laws of the duchy, he elaborated the general foun- dation of the school system of Germany, since the gen- eral ideas of this were later incorporated into the laws of many of the other German states. The schools as outlined were strictly humanistic schools, even German being excluded from the earlier plan, and were organ- ized into three distinct groups or grades. The details of this plan are given in comparison with the curricu- lum outlined by Platter for his school (p. 61). One other of these early German university leaders deserves to be mentioned. Jacob Wimpheling, of whom we hear very little, especially when compared with the two educators previously mentioned, was from the more limited educational point of view scarcely of less im- portance. He shared with Melancthon the title of “Preceptor of Germany,” on account of his influence , on schools; and his writings on the general character and purpose of education, as well as on the method of study and the curriculum, are quite as numerous and valuable as those of Erasmus.

Wimpheling was born and died at Schlettstadt, a city of little less importance than Heidelberg and Tubingen as a renaissance centre in southern Germany, though much of his work was in connection with the Uni- versity of Heidelberg, of which he was at one time rector. He was allied with the older group of human- ists, and held a somewhat broader view of education than that generally prevalent. He asks: “Of what use are all the books in the world, the most learned writ- ings, the profoundest researches, if they only minister to the vainglory of their authors, and do not, or can- not, advance the good of mankind? Such barren, use- less, injurious learning as proceeds from pride and egotism serves to darken understanding and to foster all evil passions and inclinations. What profits all our learning if our character be not correspondingly noble, all our industry without piety, all our knowing without love of our neighbour, all our wisdom without humil- ity, all our studying if we are not kind and charitable?” One of Wimpheling's pupils was John Sturm, whose ideas of education, much narrower and more intense than these, are to be given later. Two of Wimpheling's works on education are of especial importance. The first is a Guide to German Youth,” which gives a contrast of method and content between the old edu- cation and the new humanistic education. The second work, published in 1500, entitled Adolescentia, or Youth, is a treatise more on the moral and religious aspect of education, as indicated in the quotation above. Wimpheling was a pupil of the school at Schlett- stadt, and did much through encouragement and his

* Sammlung pādagogische Schriften, vol. iii, edited by J. Freundgen. + Freundgen, Sammlung, vol. iii.

own reputation towards making that school one of the earliest and most advanced humanistic schools of Germany.

TYPES OF RENAISSANCE SCHOOLS IN GERMANY

The Schlettstadt school was at once a type of these schools and one of the most influential. It was founded by the burghers of the city about the middle of the fifteenth century, and owes its superiority partly to the progressiveness of the wealthy little city at that time, but more especially to its close connection with the Brethren of the Common Life, who educated the earlier rectors. Such school-men as Dringenberg, Crato, Sapidus, were among the rectors, while more famous humanists, as Wimpheling, Sturm, Simler, Melanc- thon's teacher, Beatus Rhenanus, were among the pupils of these. This school is the first to which Plat- ter came in all his wanderings that gave him any insight into the meaning of school-work, or any inspira- tion to effort and achievement in study. Platter vis- ited the school in 1517, at which time, with Sapidus as rector, there were more than nine hundred pupils in the school. With the progress of the reformation and the growth of the neighbouring school at Strass- burg, the Schlettstadt school lost its reputation. Mention has been previously made of the schools of the Brethren of the Common Life as types of monastic schools. But they were rather transitions between the old monastic education and the new humanistic. And it is to the leaders and the schools of this order that the introduction into north Europe of the humanistic idea of education is chiefly due.

When first organized (1376) the educational activi- ties of this order were confined within very narrow lines. For though from the first they were active in copying manuscripts, chiefly as a form of manual la- bour and as a source of income, yet they were re- stricted in their studies to the Bible and the writings of the Fathers. Soon after the death of Groot, how- ever, their intellectual interests were much broadened, and they became the leaders in the humanistic move- ment in north Europe. They numbered among their early leaders Agricola, Hegius, Reuchlin; they educated Thomas à Kempis, Erasmus, and the founder of the Jesuit order. Their chief motive being always the moral and religious one, they aimed to bring as much as possible of the truth and beauty of the scriptures and of literature to the common people. Consequently they led in giving instruction in the vernacular and in the translation of the Bible. Their great educational influence was exerted, however, through the founding of their schools. Throughout the low countries—the Rhine valley, the north of France, in north Germany as far as Prussia—and in more remote regions, their schools flourished. Their schools were the most popu- lar in all Europe; the numbers of students were large, reaching more than two thousand at Deventer by the close of the fifteenth century in the time of Hegius. By this time they had been instrumental in introducing not only a purer Latin and the classics of that lan- guage into the schools, but also the study of Greek and of Hebrew. Nor was their influence limited to the members of their order and the scholars of their schools, for many of the latter became teachers in the new burgher schools that were now being established in great numbers. Platter's brief mention of the school at Schlettstadt is but a piece of circumstantial evi- dence typical of the character of their work, for most of his wanderings were outside the limits reached by the influence of that order. But slight as was his con- tact with the school of the Brethren, it was the vital- izing touch so characteristic of their work. The typical humanistic schools, at least until the development of the Jesuit schools in the latter part of the sixteenth century, were those under control of the reformation leaders and supported by reformation cities. It is true that this movement had made great progress before the reformation and was one of the chief causes of the reformation, but for the greater part of the sixteenth century the two movements fused and the chief educative influence of the reformation during that century was towards the founding of hu- manistic schools and universities controlled by the cities or states. The transition within the universities was completed before the outbreak of the reformation, and began with the burgher schools with Nuremberg before the close of the fifteenth century. But it was not till the opening by Melancthon of the new human- istic school in Nuremberg in 1526 that the reform could be said to be complete. In a similar way Melanc- thon was directly influential in the establishment of such schools of the new learning all over Germany. There is yet preserved correspondence between Melanc- thon and fifty-six cities in which he gives counsel and direction concerning the foundation and the work of such schools.” As additional types of these schools, under combined reformation and renaissance influences, Goldberg and Strassburg may be noticed. The school at Goldberg was refounded by Trotzen- dorf in 1531, though he had previously been rector of the school for a short time. The school curriculum was modelled directly upon the line of Melancthon's ideas, and the latter wrote introductions to at least one of his pupil’s text-books designed for this school. The great aim of the school, as with all of these, was to give a speaking and writing knowledge of the Latin language. Hence grammar, rhetoric, and dialectic, with the study of Terence, Plautus, Cicero, Virgil, and Ovid constituted the major part of the work. Greek *Hartfelder, Melancthonia Pädagogica. and religious instruction and music were included, but the addition of arithmetic and natural philosophy, in- cluding some geography and astronomy, was a novelty. The details of the curriculum and of method are simi- lar to those to be given in connection with the account of Sturm and of Platter. But the methods of organ- ization and government were quite unique. In instruc- tion, Trotzendorf, whose school was thronged with students from a very wide region on account of its excellent work, adopted a scheme of tutorial instruction, by which the boys of the higher classes gave tuition to the boys in the lower. Sturm employed a device some- what similar but not carried to the same extent. In almost every respect the English monitorial system of the early nineteenth century was foreshadowed. On the side of organization Trotzendorf carried out the monitorial idea much as did Lancaster and Bell, or as did the English public schools, or as is attempted in some modern schemes of self-government. The pur- pose here was as much that of instruction, both in- tellectual and moral, as it was that of discipline. In- stead of resorting to the reproduction of Latin and Greek plays, as did Sturm and, later, the Jesuits in their schools, Trotzendorf organized his school on the plan of a Roman republic. The school was divided into six classes, and each class into tribes presided over by their own officers. There was a school magistracy of twelve senators and two censors, who preserved or- der and punished offences. There were questors, who secured prompt attendance on all school exercises, and supervised a multitude of similar affairs. The busi- ness was conducted in Latin; in fact, this was the sole language of the school, and the more important officers delivered formal Latin orations upon relinquishing their offices. Trotzendorf’s plan probably represents the ex- treme development of the two renaissance tendencies as revealed in the schools and at the same time their best harmonization, namely, the tendency to substitute the ideals, methods, and control of civil government for the monastic and ecclesiastical which had previously pre- vailed, and the substitution of a classical Latin as the written and spoken word, with emphasis on the lit- erary and rhetorical side rather than as formerly on fmere dialectic treatment of patristic and scholastic treatises. *

One minor incident in Platter's narrative becomes of great interest in that it furnishes a concrete instance of yet another general educational tendency of the times; this is his reference to the gymnasium at Strass- burg organized by John Sturm in 1537. This was the most influential of all the early renaissance schools, not only in Germany but probably in all Europe, and its influence was largely exerted in the manner seen in Platter's case, through visits to the school by mas- ters of other schools and by approximate imitations of the model.

John Sturm (1507–1589) was called in 1537 to the rectorship of the gymnasium then founded by the mag- istrates of the city of Strassburg. Sturm’s reputation as a classicist, established by publications and by his work as lecturer at Louvain and also at Paris, rendered most appropriate his selection to the headship of the human- istic school of one of the most important cities of central Europe. By his power of organization, of which he immediately gave evidence in the organization of a cur- riculum, and in the grading of a school, as well as in its general administration; by his improved and sys- tematized methods; by his well-written text-books; by his correspondence with such men as Ascham in Eng- land and Melancthon in Germany; by his well-trained pupils, whom he put in charge of many schools through- out Europe; and by his personal example and counsel he became the most influential school-master in Europe, as distinct from the broader educationists such as Melanc- thon. As he often had an attendance of several thousand students drawn from all parts of Europe, and usually including some hundred of the nobility, the channels which he controlled for the immediate communication of the influence of the school were very numerous. Sturm presided over this school for forty-five years, though his work was varied by the performance of many public duties for various sovereigns, for which his abil- ity and his influence well fitted him. It was Sturm’s design, at least in later years, to develop the school into a university, and much of the literary and rhetorical work of the faculty of philosophy was provided for. For this reason the curriculum of the school, as given later (p. 68), is somewhat more than a mere standard of comparison for other gymnasia.

The success of Sturm’s school is undoubtedly due to the fact that he possessed the most definite conception of the purpose of schooling and that he organized a system for the most rigid execution of this purpose. That the training given was very narrow is to be ad- mitted, and in this, as well, Sturm becomes one of the best representatives of his times in the narrowed hu- manistic conception characteristic of the later renais- sance period. Conceiving the aim of education in terms of piety, knowledge, and eloquence, he provided for piety in the study of the catechism, and of those portions of the Scriptures that incidentally would give good practice in Greek and Latin. Knowledge to him was the knowledge of the Latin language and literature, with some attention to the Greek; eloquence consisted in the ability to use in writing and speaking the Cice- ronian Latin. The whole work of the school was de- voted to this latter end, for it included the others. Considering that the function of the school was to sup- ply to the youth of his times the two great advantages possessed by the Roman boy, that of the use of Latin in his every-day conversation and that of seeing and hear- ing many Latin plays, the work of the school was directed largely to these ends. The school-boys were required to familiarize themselves with the names of all objects of every-day life, not for the purpose of studying or understanding these things, but for the purpose of acquiring a Latin vocabulary; they were required to make elaborate dictionaries of such words and of phrases for common use. They were required to memorize a vast number of Ciceronian phrases and expressions for use of ordinary conversation; and final- ly, in the latter years of their schooling, all were re- quired to participate in the presentation of plays, espe- cially those of Plautus and Terence, so as to obtain a perfect mastery of the spoken Latin. In the higher classes such plays were presented at least once a week. As a result of this intensive devotion to the one ideal, Sturm’s curriculum excluded all other subjects: even mathematics was given only a formal recognition, in the statement that arithmetic and astrology were to be studied in the later years, practically as a portion of university work. But it appears from accounts of the actual work of the school, that no time was found for carrying out even these meagre provisions. His- tory likewise was given formal recognition by the ap- pointment of a professor of history for the university work, but this meant lectures in Latin on Livy and Tacitus, authors that were excluded from the gymnasial work on account of their departure from Ciceronian standards.

Such was the character of the school that was a model for Platter as well as for all Europe.

THE SCHOOL AT BASEL The Latin burgher school of Basel which Platter reorganized into a humanistic school in 1541, and over which he presided for more than thirty years, was a typical gymnasium, though not one of the earliest. The earliest of these among the German schools was that of Nuremberg, where the study of Latin from the hu- manistic point of view began in 1496, and where by 1521 both Greek and Hebrew had been added. The ideas embodied in Platter’s curriculum were drawn from Melancthon's school-plan and from Sturm’s school at Strassburg, which Platter visited upon his election to the office at Basel, and in which a younger brother of his was a teacher.

The scheme of the school, by daily recitations, for the six years is given in full, in the rough notes of Platter, as follows:

FIRST CLASS The children who come into this class are for the first time in school or first begin to learn; they are divided into three groups. The first of these learn the letters on little tables or blocks. The others then read from blocks and spell in Donatus; they also begin to write. Every night the teacher gives to all these two Latin words. The pupils must say these every morning, and on Saturday morning the teacher exam- ines the Latin of the whole week. (Repetitiones tu- multuariae.) On this day also they are taught to pray, though they must pray every day, morning and evening, in all the classes. When these pupils can read tolerably well, they are put in the next class at the quarter day.

SECOND CLASS In this class they read in the morning, from 7 to 8, the sacred dialogues of Castello; on Saturday morning the catechism, 9–10; for the first three days the shorter colloquies of Erasmus; on the other three days, at the same hour, the teacher examines them on Donatus by heart.

1–2. One reads with them the shorter Epistles of Cicero. They are examined always on the same lesson on the following day. They repeat rapidly the declensions of the nouns and verbs in the paradigms of Donatus. They are drilled in the easiest and com- monest of grammatical rules.

3–4. Every day they give the declensions and every hour one decurion must point out a Scripta, so that every day each one points out a Scripta once. When, now, one has learned Donatus by heart and the commonest rules, he is put in the third class at the next quarter day.

THIRD CLASS

7–8. The New Testament is read.

9–10. On one day they must learn by heart from the Latin grammar of Melancthon; on the next day the formulas for speaking the proverbs and sayings are pointed out to them.

1–2. They are given an assignment in the Eclogues and in Cicero and the easiest figures of prosody.

3–4. Select fables of AEsop, with the elements of Greek, the declensions of the easiest nouns and verbs; then in the fourth class they read the Greek grammar complete. They were all reviewed on the above-men- tioned lessons, on the following days; and as often as they were examined, they repeated the declensions to- gether with the easiest rules of construction. In this class they also read on Saturdays the cate- chism, and on Wednesday they were given writing; but on Thursday they were given the letters which they had made according to the German outline, drawn from Cicero and given to them as a task. Those that had mastered the Latin grammar, and had been over it at least once, and also had made some beginning in Greek, were transferred into the fourth class.

FourTH CLASS

7–8. In this class they read on one day the Testa- ment, yet with more explanation than in the third class. On the next, hitherto, a beginning in dialectics; after that the rhetoric of Philip (Melancthon); but now, when this is finished they read the Officia of Cice- ro, until they can begin dialectic or perhaps devote another hour to it.

9–10. They read on one day the Epistles of Cicero, wherein they were shown the art of dialectic and rhet- oric, also the formulas for speaking, poetic metres, etc.

1–2. In the Metamorphoses of Ovid, one pointed out most diligently among other things the tropes and the metres of the poet, together with those other things that were peculiar to the poets.

3–4. In Terence, they studied the phrases, as also in other Latin readings. They read Greek, always on the alternate days, when they had not read in Cicero from 9–10, that is they read the dialogues of Lucian. They examined on the other day, from word to word, the declensions of nouns and verbs and of all parts of the orations; they read the Greek grammer of Ceporinus. But when they had recited the Epistles of Cicero, they read in the same hour in the Latin grammer of Melancthon, yet seldom therefrom, for they had been well drilled in it in the third class. When they recited in Ovid, they gave the declensions, as also in the study of Cicero, yet only that which was unusual and difficult, and in Cicero more than in Ovid; then as poetry is full of figures, one pointed these out to them in advance. In the same lesson that they studied Ovid, they examined beforehand the Schemata of Siesen brothers. In the study of Terence, they used espe- cially the constructions of Erasmus, which they had also prepared for the same lesson.

On Friday, from 3–4, all who were in the third and fourth classes were drilled in music, and they sang some one or two psalms at times.

On Saturday, about 9, they gave the letters which they themselves had written without any prescribed argument, so that each one might select a theme for himself, wherein he could use the rules of dialectic and rhetoric, or he could choose an argument out of the Epistles of Cicero.

They were also drilled in the Catechism at and be- fore the quarterly fasts. Also when one of the Evan- gels is finished, one reads sometimes between whiles the Catechism. So that those who have lately arrived may also be instructed in one holy religion. Those in the fourth class, if they are well drilled, in the grammar of both languages, Greek and Latin, also in the beginning of dialectics and rhetoric; also were so well versed in the authors that they immedi- ately understand when one reads an author no more in German, but in Latin exposition, may then be per- mitted to inscribe themselves as advanced students. Such a one has also now the intelligence to control himself, as it is beneficial and honourable to him, with- out the rod; he also has a desire and taste for litera- ture, so that he receives now with joy all that is read and explained. They must all have experience. While the school was organized into four classes, the lowest one had three groups, so that in reality there were six grades. This was the number in the Trotzendorf school and also in the English public schools as organ- ized about the same period. Sturm’s school possessed nine, and later ten, grades; the Jesuit schools nine, in five general divisions. Each class with Platter was organized into groups of ten—decurions—partially under charge of the brightest boys. These groups were not all of the same stage of advancement, so that the advantage of further grading was secured. Here, again, the practice was similar to that at Strassburg, at Gold- berg, and in the Jesuit schools. *

From this comparison it will be seen that Platter's curriculum was not so detached as that of Sturm’s, and was, in fact, but a slight expansion of that of Melanchthon, which was the common basis of all Ger- man schools. The Basel school is somewhat more highly graded than that provided for in the plan of Melanchthon, consisting of six instead of three groups, though it falls short of that of Sturm. The importance

STRUM'S CURRICULUM (1589). 10th Class. 9th Class. 8th Class. 7th Class. 6th Class. 5th Class. 4th Class. 3d Class. 2d Class, 1st Class. Latin Al- Declensions; Latin syntax; Latin syntax; Epistles of Versification; Cicero; Latin treatises Comparison Logic, Rhet- phabet; Conjugations; Letters of Epistles of Cicero; Cicero; Horace ; on rhetoric ; of Latin and oric and Reading. Irregular Cicero With Cicero; Martial ; Virgil–Ec- Greek; Demosthenes ; Greek Oratory in forms; grammatical Exercises in Horace; logues; Pauline Homer; authors; Latin and Wocabulary of construction; style; Catechism ; Donatus trans- Epistles. Pauline Epis- Logic; Greek; corninon Exercises in Translation of Hieronymous ; lation (ex- es. Rhetoric; With more speech. style. Catechism Begin Greek. tempore); Double trans- Epistle to intensive into Latin. Pauline Epis- lations, Omans; study of tles ; Greek and Acting of above Greek. Latin; Aristopha- authors. Terence and nes, Eu- Plautus to be ripides; acted. Sophocles, Terence and Plautus.

PLATTER'S CURRICULUM (1541).

1st Class (1st Part). (2d Part.) (3d Part.) 2d Class. 3d Class. 4th Class. Alphabet. Reading; Reading; Dialogues of Castili- New Testament; New Testament; Writing; Donatus, etc. anus; Latin grammar of Me- Dialectics; Spelling in Latin. Donatus by heart; lanchthon (by heart); Rhetoric ; 1st Class. Alphabet, Creed and prayers; Donatus; Cato; Music. Colloquies of Eras- Virgil, Eclo es; Cicero, Ovid, Terence; Greek grammar and texts; mus ; AEsop's Fables (in Epistles of Cicero; Greek). Music ; Catechism. Catechism. MELANCHTHON'S CURRICULUM (1527). 2d Class. 3d Class. Music ; Music; Grammar ; Virgil; Fables of Æsop with grammatical exercises; Cicero; Colloquies of Erasmus; Ovid ; Terence and Plautus; Grammar: Bible, including Gospels, Epistles, Psalms Logic ; Proverbs. Rhetoric.

of this better grading is recognised by Platter, as indi- cated in the letter given below. The same letter indi- cates the spirit and motive with which Platter went into the work and reveals the basis for some of the rather complicated and indefinite relations existing between the city councillors, the university, the church and private schools mentioned, and the burgher Grammar school under Platter. The letter here appended is one from Platter to the city councillors, written at their request, concerning the organization and work of the reformed school which he thereafter took under his care. “May the Almighty Eternal God order our beginning according to his holy pleasure, and bring it to a good and useful end. Amen. Since you, my gracious sirs, commanded me as your subject, that I should show to you in writing my idea of the way in which I hope that the school “at the Castle” might be most usefully and orderly arranged; how there the youths might be educated not only in the languages but also in good morals; also what help was necessary for me; also what I required for a salary; at last also concerning the house; I now give to you briefly, my gracious sirs, my ideas—not to instruct such as you, since your honours know well what is necessary to do and what is in your power to accomplish—but that I may fulfil your will in this respect. I pray you for the honour of God and the common need of our city to improve this through your honours.

“In the first place, according to the regulations, that One shall divide the boys and arrange them into classes or groups in order that one may lose none of his time, nor [place] too heavy a burden on the children; also in order that one may perceive and understand, what help should be and must be there, this is to be con- sidered first. For, as 'every one has a desire to dwell in a city or town where there are good laws, all things happen harmoniously in joy and pleasure of a commu- nity, so also here, if your honours establish everything rightly, the citizens will have a desire to educate their children and to have them study, and literature and art will arise and increase.

“Now it is, my gracious sirs, as I perceive, you probably remembered, how one has commanded the uni- versity, that they should reform and examine the school, so that they would get in line of progress, which now, as I perceive, you have commanded to Mr. Grynaus and Mr. Myconius as a school-master; and thereafter have charged Mr. Grynaus that he would be a faithful overseer, as also Dr. Oecolampadius, of Christlike mem- ory, is said to have done before, to specify what should be read, also to look after and regulate the classes and other things; therefore I will leave this to you, and willingly follow you as learned and wise men. I pray you, therefore, that it may please you to charge Myco- nius, as my beloved father and school-master at Zurich, and to remind him of his office that he should have a faithful oversight over the school, and correct and pun- ish me if I err, as the one who used it with usefulness and understanding; I will willingly receive it at all times from him. In order that you, however, may so much the better understand, with regard to the help, how necessary this is and how little is accomplished and may be accomplished by one or even by two, I will show to you and discuss in brief the regulations. “Thus it may be necessary to divide the whole num- ber of the boys into four classes or groups whereof every one will have his place, and in each one of which every boy will have his seat, according as he succeeds in mounting up higher and higher; so that the first begins at the lowest, those who learn the alphabet. After these, those who learn to read, for these one instructs that they learn Donatus by heart, then begin to decline. “These are two classes; the lowest, with which one generally must have the most difficult time, in order that one may lead them and teach them to walk like children. But it is not enough to hear them, but if one is slow the teacher must sit by him and instruct him individually. Those who learn the declensions and the grammar perfectly may be able to learn to understand the Fables of Æsop, Cato and others of the classics— they form the third class. In the fourth one may read Terence, Virgil, Ovid, Caesar, and other authors, as the school-master who understands the thing may deem it best.

“Thus it is possible for you, my gracious sirs, to un- derstand well from this, as you are in other things wise, what is necessary in the way of help, if one is to do this thing properly. There is none of these classes which one should not hear four hours each day; also each one should have its own especial teacher. Yet not that any class should be wholly intrusted to anyone, but from one to another; especially the school-master should have a good oversight over the lowest, how far it progresses daily or not.

“Now I can well believe that it troubles you that I ask so much help, as if I wished to lighten my work thereby; but my work will not be lightened, but it will be of advantage to the boys. As when one wishes to erect a building quickly, he must have many people; then the labour of those who work there is not lessened, for each one has his work, but the building will be erected so much the more advantageously. So also here, where there is only a little help, one does as much as he can; when the hour is up, he must permit the children to go home. Let one consider how it is conducted in other cities, as Zurich, Bern, and Strassburg. In Zurich there are two schools and nine teachers. In Strass- burg every class has its own teacher. (I write this not because you yourselves do not know what is necessary to do here, but that you may see how elsewhere litera- ture is fostered.) I wish thus, my gracious sirs, to admonish you to consider the affair faithfully, that we do not neglect the youth, and to think also of our posterity, that we may leave to them learned people, as God has endowed us, in order that we may not fall again into the old darkness, though the greatest means will not be able to help us, but God through his aid. However, through means they are educated and sup- ported, but it is not necessary for me to relate this to you.

“Here I can well believe that the other school-mas- ters will complain of it, that they have not also been helped; would to God we all had assistance, then would we do more good in general; there shall, however, be the most help “at the Castle” as in the most import- ant and largest parish, for it needs the most help, since one has there the most boys.

“In the third place, concerning my necessary salary, I cannot say much; it remains with you, my gracious sirs, as also the other things; and yet I would pray you, that you would consider the great labour and care that such a one must bear and the heavy reckoning he must give to God, if he does not conduct it aright; that you desire to show me good-will so that I may have the desire to do this thing and do it for a long time, not as one commonly says: you must endure it until something better comes to hand; who sets his heart on a better thing, never has his mind and thoughts on his work.

much good is caused by having a new school-master every day or even every year. I pray you, respectfully, that you will procure me a fixed amount in order that I need not be a burden to you daily and beg. If you would let it remain, as it was established at first, it would indeed not be too much. I know well what is given elsewhere, but it is not necessary to tell it; you will conclude it for the best.

“In respect to the house, it is my final request to you, my gracious sirs, that you will leave me in this one. I have laboured much until it is become mine. I have arranged it beautifully; it is convenient and well ordered. You desire also to help me in this, then rent this and give me rent for my house, so then will I give to you what remains over, in order that it may not be too expensive for you; I pray you, if it may be, in order that I need not move again.

“Thus, your honours, you have my ideas in brief, as I understand the situation; may you receive it from me for the best. I pray you, for the honour of God, your common needs, and the furthering of my affairs, that you may cause it to be commanded in order that I may know in what circumstances I am.”

II THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF THOMAS PLATTER

SINCE you, dear son Felix, as well as many famous and learned men, who for many years in their youth have been my pupils, have frequently requested me to describe my life from my youth up; for you, as well as they, have often heard from me, in what great poverty I have been from my birth, afterward in what great peril of life and limb I have been, first when I served in the terrible mountains, and then when in my youth I followed after the wandering students; also later how I, with my wife, have supported my family with great care, trouble, and labour—since, then, this story may be of value especially to you, in order that you may consider how God has many times so wonderfully pre- served me, and that you mayest thank the Lord in heaven therefor, that he so well endowed and guarded you, descended from me, that you have not had to bear such poverty; therefore I cannot deny you, but will, as far as I remember, make known all concerning my birth and education.

CHAPTER I BIRTH-ORPHANAGE AND first, I know least the time when things have occurred. When I thought and asked about the time of my birth, people always said I came into the world on Shrove Tuesday, just as the bells were ringing for mass. That I know, because my friends have always hoped from this that I would become a priest. I had a sister, who was alone with my mother when I was born; she has also told me this. 

My father was called Antony Platter, of the old fam- ily of those who were called Platter; they received their name from a house that is on a wide place (platte). It is a rock on a very high mountain by a village called Grenchen, belonging to the district and the parish of Wisp, which is a considerable village district in Valais. My mother, however, was called Anna Maria Summermatter, of a very large family, which was called the Summermatters. The father of this family became one hundred and twenty-six years old. For six years before his death, I myself have spoken with him, and he said that he knew ten other men in the parish of Wisp who were all older than he was then. When he was a hundred years old he married a woman thirty years old, and they had one son. He left sons and daughters, some of whom were white, some were gray, before he died. He was called old Hans Summer- matter. 

The house wherein I was born is near Grenchen, and is called “by the ditch’’; therein you, Felix, yourself, have been. When my mother was recovered, she had sore breasts, so that she could not nurse me, and I never once had any mother's milk, as my dear mother herself told me. That was the beginning of my misery. I was therefore obliged to drink cow's milk through a little horn, as is the custom in that land. For, when they wean children, they give them nothing to eat, but only cow’s milk to drink, until they are four or five years old.

My father died so soon that I cannot remember even to have seen him. For, as it is the custom in the land that almost all women weave and sew, the men before the winter leave that district, going mostly into the region of Berne, to buy wool. Then the women spin this and make peasant-cloth of it for coats and trou- sers for the peasants. My father also had gone into the distict of Berne, at Thun, to buy wool. There he was taken with the plague and died; he was buried in Stiffsburg, a village near Thun.

Soon thereafter my mother married again, a man called Heintzman, “am Grund,” “ between Wisp and Stalden. So the children were all separated from her. I do not know how many of them there were. Of my brothers and sisters I knew two sisters only. One, called Elizabeth, died in Entlebach, where she had mar- ried. The other, called Christina, with eight others, died of a pestilence near Burgess, above Stalden. Of my brothers, I have known Simon, Hans, and Yoder. Simon and Hans died in war. Yoder died at Oberhofen, on the lake of Thun. For the usurers had ruined my father, so that my brothers and sisters must all go to work as soon as they were able. And since I was the youngest, my aunts, my father's sisters, each kept me a little while.

Then I can well remember that I was with one, called Margaret, who carried me into a house, called “In der Wilde,” near Grenchen; there, also, was one of my aunts, who was making with the others I knew not what. Then the one who carried me took a bundle of straw that accidentally lay in the room, laid me on the table, and went to the other women. My aunts, after they had laid me down, had gone to the light.f

*Surnames, or names of places in process of formation. Many such designations were considered later as surnames and are to be met with in these identical forms: e.g., Imboden, Amgrund. Con- sequently it is almost impossible to give an adequate translation, since they are practically proper names.

+ “The light” is an indefinite expression. By some it is sug- gested that mass is referred to; by others that it refers to a spin- ning-room or an adjoining room.

Then I got up and ran through the snow into a house close by a fish-pond. When the women did not find me, they were in distress, but they found me at last in the house, lying between two men who warmed me, for I was frozen in the snow.

Afterward, a while later, when I was with this aunt “in the wilderness,” my brother came home from the Savoy war and brought me a little wooden horse, that I drew by a thread before the door, until finally I thought that the horse could really go; therefore I can well understand how children often think that their dolls and other playthings are living. My brother also strode over me with one leg and said: “O ho, Tommy, now you will never grow any more.” This worried me. When I was about three years old, the Cardinal Matthew Schinner travelled through the land, in order to hold a visitation and confirm, as is the custom in the Pope's dominions. He came also to Grenchen. At that time there was a priest at Grenchen, called Antony Platter. They brought me to him, that he might be my godfather. But when the Cardinal (perhaps he was still bishop) had eaten his luncheon and had gone again into the church, in order to confirm, I know not what my uncle Antony had to do, it happened that I ran into the church, that I might be confirmed and that the godfather might give me a card,” as it is the custom to give the children something. There sat the

* A religious picture or image.

cardinal in a chair, waiting until they brought the children to him. I yet remember very well that I ran to him. He spoke to me because my godfather was not with me, saying, “What do you want, my child?” I replied, “I want to be confirmed.” He said to me, laughing, “What are you called?” I answered, “I am called Master Thomas.” Then he laughed, mur- mured something, with one hand on my head, and patted me on the cheek with the other hand. At this moment Mr. Antony came up, and excused himself, saying that I had run away unknown to him. The cardinal repeated what I had said, and said to him, “Certainly this child will become something wonderful, probably a priest.” And also because I came into this world just as they were summoned to mass, many people said that I would become a priest. Therefore they also sent me the earlier to school.

CHAPTER II THE GOATHERD

Now, when I was six years old, they took me to Eisten, a valley near Stalden. There my deceased mother's sister had a husband, called Thomas of Reid- gin, who lived on a farm called “im Boden.” There for the first year I was obliged to herd the little goats near the house. I can remember yet that I sometimes stuck in the snow, so that I could scarcely get out; and often my little shoes remained behind, and I came home barefooted and shivering. This peasant had about eighty goats, which I was obliged to herd during my seventh and eighth year. And I was yet so small, that when I opened the stable and did not quickly spring away, the goats knocked me down, ran over me, trod on my head, ears, and back, for I usually fell forward. When I drove the goats over the bridge over the Visp (it is a stream), the first ran into the green corn in the cornfield; when I drove these out, then the others ran in. Then I wept and screamed, for I knew well that in the evening I would be beaten. When, however, the other shepherds came to me from other peasants, they helped me, especially one of the largest, called Thomas “im Leidenbach”; he pitied me, and did me much kindness. -

Then we all sat together, when we had driven the goats on the high and frightful mountains, ate and drank together, for each had a little shepherd's basket on his back, with cheese and rye-bread therein. Once when we had eaten, we wanted to throw at a mark. There was on a high precipice or rock, a level place. When now one after another had thrown at the mark, one stood before me, who was about to throw, to whom I wished to give way backward in order that he should not strike me on the head or in the face. In doing so I fell backward over the cliff. The shepherds all cried, “Jesus! Jesus!” until they saw me no more. When I had fallen down under the rock so that they could not see me, they fully believed that I had fallen to my death. But soon I got up and climbed up the rock to them again. Then first they wept for joy. Some six weeks later, one of the goats of one of them fell down just where I had fallen, and was killed. So well had God watched over me.

Perhaps a half-year later I was driving my goats once more early in the morning, before the other shepherds, for I was the nearest, upon a point called the White Point. Then my goats went to the right, on a little rock, which was a good pace wide, but thereunder terribly deep, certainly for more than a thousand fathoms, nothing except rock. From the ledge one goat after another went up over a precipice, where they could scarcely place their hoofs on the little tufts of grass, which grew on the rock. As they were now all up, I also wanted to follow after. But when I had drawn myself up by the grass not more than a small stride, I could go no farther; neither was it possible to step back again on the little precipice, and much less did I dare to spring backward. For I feared, if I sprang back, I would jump too far and would fall over the terrible precipice. I remained in this position for a good while, waiting for the help of God; for I could help myself no more, except that I held on with both little hands to a tuft of grass and supported myself by my great toe on a little tuft of grass; and when I was tired, I drew myself up by the tuft and placed the other toe thereon. In this need I suffered great anxiety because I feared the great vultures, which flew about in the air under me; indeed, I feared that they would carry me away, as sometimes does happen in the Alps, where the vultures carry away children or lambs. While I remained thus and the wind blew my coat about me, for I had on no trousers, then my comrade Thomas espied me from afar, but knew not, however, what it was. As he saw my little coat fluttering, he thought it was a bird. When, however, he recognised me he was so terrified that he became quite pale, and said to me, “Now, Tommy, stand still.” Then he went quickly on to the ledge of rock, took me up in his arms and carried me back again, where we could come by another way up to the goats. Some years thereafter, when I came home once from the schools in distant lands, when my former compan- ion had found it out, he came to me and reminded me how he had rescued me from death (for it is, indeed, true, and yet I give God the glory). He said, when I became a priest I should remember him in the mass and pray God for him. During the time I served this master I did my best, so that thereafter, when I went with my wife to Valais, towards Wisp, this same peasant said to my wife that he had never had a better little servant, though I was so small and young.

Among others of my father's sisters was one who was not married, and my father had especially commended me to her because I was the youngest child; she was called Frances. When, again and again, people came to her and told her what a dangerous employment I was in, and that I would sometime fall to my death, she came to my master, and declared to him that she would not leave me there any longer. He was dissatis- fied with this. Nevertheless, she took me back again to Grenchen, where I was born, put me out to a rich old peasant, called Hans “im Boden.” I had to herd the goats for him also. There it once came to pass that I and his young daughter, who also herded the goats of her father, had forgotten ourselves in play by a water conduit, wherein the water was led along to the farms. There we had made little meadows and watered them, as children do. Meanwhile the goats had gone up on the mountains, we knew not where. Thereupon I left my little coat lying there, and went up to the very top of the mountains. The little girl went home without the goats; but I, who was a poor servant boy, dared not come home until I had the goats. Very high up I found a kid, which was like one of my goats. This I followed from afar, until the sun went down. When I looked back towards the village, it was almost night at the houses; I began to go downward, but it was soon dark. Then I climbed down the ridge from one tree to an- other by the roots (the trees were larches, from which the turpentine flows), for many of the roots were loos- ened because the earth had been washed therefrom on the steep slope. When, however, it was quite dark, and I noticed that it was very precipitous, I determined not to venture farther, but held myself by a root with one hand, and with the other scratched the earth away from under the tree and the roots, while I listened as the dirt rattled below. I pressed myself partially under the roots. I had nothing on except the little shirt, neither shoes nor hat: for the little coat I had left lying by the water-pipes, in my anxiety at having lost the goats. As I now lay under the tree, the ravens became aware of me, and croaked in the tree. Then I became very anxious, for I feared that a bear was near. I crossed myself and fell asleep, and I remained sleeping until in the morning, when the sun shone over all the moun- tains. But when I awoke and saw where I was, I know not whether in all my life I have been more terrified. For if I had gone even two fathoms farther to the right, then I would have fallen down a fearfully high precipice many thousand fathoms high. Then I was in the greatest anxiety, as to how I could get down from there. Yet I drew myself farther upward from one root to another, until I came again to a place, from where I could run down the mountains towards the houses. Just as I was out of the woods, near the farms, the little girl met me with the goats, which she was driv- ing out again; for they had run home themselves when it was night. On that account, the people whom I served were very much terrified that I did not come home with the goats, thinking that I had fallen and killed myself. They inquired of my aunt and the people who lived in the house where I was born, for it was near the house where I served, whether they knew any- thing of me, since I had not come home with the goats. Then my aunt and my master's very old wife remained on their knees the whole night, praying God that he would guard me, if I was yet alive. The aunt was my cousin’s mother, of whom Johann Stumpf, who was the preceptor of the second class at Strassburg, wrote. Thereafter, because they had been so terribly fright- ened, they would not let me herd the goats any more. While I was with this master, and herded the goats, I once fell into a kettle full of hot milk, which was over a fire, and scalded myself so that the scars have been seen all my life long by you and others. I was also, while with him, yet twice more in peril. Once two of us little shepherds were in the forest, talking of many childish things; among other things, we wished that we could fly; then we would fly over the moun- tains, through the land to Germany—for so was the Confederacy called in Valais. Thereupon came a ter- rible great bird, darting, whizzing down upon us, so that we thought that it would carry one or both of us away. Then we both began to shriek, to defend our- selves with our shepherd's crooks, and to cross ourselves, until the bird flew away. Then we said to each other: “We have done wrong, in wishing that we could fly; God has not created us for flying, but for walking.” Another time I was in the cleft of a very deep fissure in the rocks, looking for little stars or crystals, many of which were found there. Then I saw far above a stone, as large as a stove, falling down; and, because I could not get out of the way, I stooped down on my face. Then the stone fell several fathoms down above me, and then bounded out over me; for the stones often spring up many spear-lengths high into the air. I had much of such happiness and joy with the goats on the mountains (of which I remember little). This I know well, that I seldom had whole toes, but have often cut off great pieces, and had great cuts and severe falls. I was without shoes for the most part in sum- mer, or wooden shoes, and often had great thirst. My food in the morning before day was rye broth (made from rye meal); cheese and rye bread was given me in a little basket to carry with me on my back; but at night cooked cheese-milk; yet of all these, enough. In summer, sleeping on hay, in winter on a straw sack full of bugs and other vermin. The poor little shep- herds who serve the peasants in those desolate places usually sleep thus.

Since they would no longer permit me to herd the goats, I came into the service of a peasant, a fiery and passionate man, who had married one of my aunts, for whom I had to herd cows. For in most places in Valais, they have no common herdsboy for the cows; but he who has no place on the Alps, where he can send them in summer, has his own little shepherd, who tends them on his own farm.

CHAPTER III

THE SCHOOL-BOY—THE WANDERING SCHOLAR

WHEN I had been with him a while, came one of my aunts, called Frances, who wished to send me to my cousin, Mr. Anthony Platter, in order that I might learn writing. Thus they say, when they would send one to school. He was at that time no more in Gren- chen, but was now an old man at St. Nicholas, in a village called Gasen. When the farmer, who was called Antony, “an der Habtzucht,” heard of my aunt's in- tention, he was much dissatisfied, and said that I would learn nothing, and placed the forefinger of his right hand in the palm of the left and said: “The boy will learn just as much as I can push my finger through here.” This I saw and heard. My aunt said: “Oh, who knows? God has not refused him his gifts; he may yet make a pious priest of himself.” She led me then to the gentleman; I was, as near as I can remember, nine or nine and a half years old. -

Then things really went evilly with me; then it was that hard times really began, for he was a passionate man, and I but an awkward peasant boy. He beat me very severely, often took me by the ears and dragged me on the ground, so that I screamed like a goat that had been stuck with a knife, so that frequently the neighbours cried to him, asking whether he would kill me.

I was not long with him. At that time there came a cousin of mine, who had travelled to the schools at Ulm and Munich; he was a Summermatter, my old grandfather’s son’s son. This student was called Paul Summermatter. My friends spoke to him of me. He promised then that he would take me with him, and in Germany would place me in a school. When I heard this, I fell on my knees and asked God, the Almighty, that he would help me away from the priest, who taught me almost nothing and even beat me without mercy. For I had learned to sing the Salve just a little, and with other children who were also with the priest to sing for eggs in the village. At one time we were about to celebrate the mass; the other boys sent me into the church for a light; this I stuck, burning, into my sleeve, and burned myself so that I yet have the scar from it. As Paul now wished to travel again, I was to come to him in Stalden. In Stalden is a house called “by the mill-brook.” There lived one, called Simon Summermatter, who was my mother's brother; he was to be my guardian. He gave me a gold florin. I carried this in my hand as far as Stalden, looked at it often on the way, to see whether I yet had it, and then gave it to Paul. Thus we went out of the country. On the way I had to beg here and there for myself, and give also to my Bacchant,” Paul. For, on account of my simplicity and country speech, they gave me much.

When we came over the Grimsel mountain at night to an inn, I saw for the first time a tile stove, and the moon shone on the tiles. Then I thought it was a very large calf. For I saw only two white, shining tiles, which I thought were the eyes. In the morning I saw geese, which I had never seen before. Therefore, when they hissed at me, I thought it was the devil, and fled screaming. At Luzern I saw the first tile roof, and I was much astonished at the red roofs. We came thence to Zurich. There Paul awaited some compan- ions, who wished to go with us to Meissen. Meanwhile I went to beg, so that I almost supported Paul; for when I came into an inn, the people gladly heard me talk the Valais dialect and gave to me willingly. At that time there was one in Zurich, who was from Lenk, in Valais; he was a most deceitful man, by the name of Carl; the people thought an exorcist, for he knew at all times what happened before and after- ward. The cardinal knew him well. This Carl once came to me, for we lodged in the same house. He said that if I should allow him to give me one blow on the bare back, he would give me a Zurich sixpence. I per- mitted myself to be persuaded, so he seized hold of me

* See pp. 33–39.

very firmly, laid me over a chair, and beat me very severely. When I had borne that, he asked me to lend him the sixer back again; he wished to eat with the landlady that night, and he had nothing for the reckon- ing. I gave him the sixer; it never came back to me. After we had waited for the company now eight or nine weeks, we set out for Meissen. For me, not ac- customed to travel, it was a very long journey; besides, I had to procure food on the way. Eight or nine of us travelled together—three little shooters, the others great bacchants, as they were called, among which I was the smallest and youngest of the shooters. When I could not go on rapidly, then my cousin Paul went behind me with a rod or stick and beat me on the bare legs, for I had on no trousers and but poor shoes. And, moreover, I no longer remember all the things that happened on the road, yet a few I can recall. For example, as we were on the journey and were speak- ing of all sorts of things, the bacchants said to one another that in Meissen and Silesia it was the custom that scholars were allowed to steal geese and ducks and other eatable things, and that no one would do any- thing on that account, if one could escape from the owner of the stolen things. One day we were not far from a village; there was a great flock of geese gath- ered together, and the herdsman was not near; for every little village had its own goose-herd; he was quite a distance off from the geese with the cow-herds. There- upon I asked my companions, the shooters, “When shall we be in Meissen, that I may be allowed to throw and kill a goose?” They said, “We are now there.” Then I took a stone, threw it, and hit one on the leg. The others flew away, but the lame one could not fol- low. Then I took another stone, hit it on the head, so that it fell down. For with the goats I had learned to throw well, so that no shepherd of my age could do better. Similarly I could blow the shepherd's horn and spring with a pole; for in such arts I had practised with my fellow herdsmen. Then I ran forward, caught the goose by the neck, and with it under my coat went through the street of the village. Then the goose-herd came running after us, crying in the village, “The boy has robbed me of my goose.” I and my fellow shooters fled, and the feet of the goose hung out from under my little coat. The peasants came out with hatchets, which they could throw, and ran after us. When I saw that I could not escape with the goose, I let it fall. Beyond the village I sprang out of the road into the thicket. But my two companions ran down the road, and were overtaken by the peasants. Then they fell down on their knees, begged for mercy, saying they had done no wrong. And when then the peasants saw that they were not the ones that had let the goose fall, they returned to the village, taking the goose. I saw how they ran after my companions, and I was in great trouble, and said to myself: “Oh, God, I believe I have not crossed myself to-day.” For they had taught me that I should cross myself each morn- ing. When the peasants came again to the village, they found our bacchants in the inn—for they had gone ahead to the inn, and we followed after—and said that they should pay for the goose, which they could have done perhaps with two batz, but I know not whether they paid or not. When they came up to us, they laughed and asked us how it happened. I excused my-_ self with the reason that it was the custom of the land. But they said it is not yet time.

At one time a murderer met us in the forest, eleven miles this side of Naumburg. We were all there to- gether. Then at first he desired to play with our bac- chants, only that he might delay us until his compan- ions had come together. We had at that time a very brave companion, named Antony Schalbetter, from the Wisper district in Valais, who did not fear four or five, as he had already shown in Naumburg and Munich, and in other places besides. He ordered the murderer with threats that he should take himself away. This he did. Now, it was so late that we could barely come into the nearest village, and there were two inns there, besides that a few houses only. When we entered one, there was the murderer before us with one or two others, without doubt his companions. Then we would not remain there, but went to the other inn. Soon also they came to this inn. When, now, the supper had been eaten, every one was so busy in the house that they did not wish to give us little boys anything. For we nowhere sat at the table at meals. Also, no one wanted to give us a bed, but, on the contrary, we had to lie in the horse-stalls. But when the older ones were shown to bed, Antony spoke to the landlord: “Land- lord, it seems that you have some odd guests, and you appear not much better. I say to you, landlord, place us so that we are safe, or we will create such a dis- turbance that this house will be too small for you.” Thereupon the rascals asked to play chess at table with our company (for so they called the game): this little word I had never heard. When they had retired and I and the other little boys lay hungry in the horse-stall, in the night several persons, perhaps the landlord him- self among them, came to the door of the room and would have unlocked it. Then Antony, from the inside, screwed a screw in the lock, drew the bed before the door, and struck a light; for he had always with him wax tapers and a tinder-box; then he quickly awoke the other comrades. When the rogues heard this, they quickly departed. In the morning we found neither landlord nor servant. This they told to us boys. We were all rejoiced that nothing had happened to us in the stable. After we had gone a mile we met some people who, when they heard where we had spent the night, were much astonished that we had not all been murdered; for almost all the villagers were suspected murderers. About a quarter of a mile from Naumburg our grown companions again remained behind in the village; for when they would eat together, they sent us on. There were five of us; in a broad field there came to meet us eight horsemen with drawn cross-bows, who rode around us, demanded money from us, and turned their arrows on us; for at that time people did not as yet carry guns on horses. One said: “Give us money!” One of us, who was the largest, answered: “We have no money; we are poor students.” Then he said the second time: “Give us money!” Then an- swered our companion again: “We have no money, !” Then the horseman drew and we owe you nothing his sword, raised it, so that it whizzed close by his head, and cut in two the straps of his knapsack. Our com- panion was called John of Schalen from St. Gall, from the village. They rode thereafter into the woods, but we went on to Naumburg. Soon came the bacchants, who had seen the knaves nowhere. We were often thus in danger on account of robbers and murderers—in the Thuringian forest, in Frankland, and in Poland. In Naumburg we remained some weeks. Those of us shooters who could sing went in the city to sing, but I went begging. But we did not go to school. This the others would not permit, and threatened to drag us to the school. The school-master also commanded our bacchants that they should come to school, or they would be compelled. But Antony dared them to come. And because some other Swiss were also there, they permitted us to know on what day the authorities would come, so that they would not unexpectedly attack us. Then we little shooters carried stones on the roof. But Antony and the others garrisoned the door. Then came the school-master with the whole procession of his shooters and bacchants. But we boys threw stones down upon them, so that they had to give way. When now we understood that we were accused before the magistrate, we had a neighbour who wished to marry his daughter. He had a stable full of fat geese. One night we took from him three geese and withdrew to another part of the city; it was a suburb, but near the city wall, as was also the place where we had been till this time. Then the Swiss came to us, drank with one another, and then our company withdrew to Halle, in Saxony, and went to the school at St. Ulrich. But when our bacchants behaved towards us so rudely, some of us, with my cousin Paul, resolved to run away from the bacchants and go to Dresden. But there was no good school there, and the dwellings were full of vermin, so that we heard them in the night crawling around in the straw.

We broke up and went to Breslau. We suffered much hunger on the way, in that for several days we ate only raw onions, with salt; some days roasted acorns, crab-apples, and pears. Many a night we lay under the open sky, for no one would allow us in the house, however pleasantly we asked for shelter; some- times they set the dogs on us.

When, however, we were to come to Breslau, in Silesia, there was great abundance; yea so cheap, that the poor students overate themselves, and often made themselves sick. There we first went to the school in the Cathedral of the Holy Cross. But when we heard that in the principal parish of St. Elizabeth there were several Swiss, we went there. There were there two from Bremgarten, two from Mellingen, and others, besides many Schwabians. There was no difference between the Schwabians and the Swiss; they spoke to one another as countrymen, and protected each other. The city of Breslau had seven parishes, and each had a separate school. No student dared to go into another parish to sing, else they cried: “Ad idem lad idem l’” Then the shooters ran together and beat one another very severely. Once there were in the city, so it was said, several thousand bacchants and shooters, who supported themselves wholly by alms. It was also said that some had been there twenty or thirty years, or longer, with their shooters, who had to wait upon them. I have carried home to the school where they lived, to my bacchant, often in one evening five or six loads. People gave to me very willingly, because I was so small and was Swiss—for the Swiss were much liked. People at that time also had a great com- passion for the Swiss, for they had suffered severely in the great battle of Milan. So the common people said now the Swiss have lost their best pater-noster. For they thought that, before this, the Swiss were quite unconquerable. -

One day I came in the market-place to two gentle- men, or country squires. I heard afterward that the one was a Benzenaur, the other a Fugger. They walked together. I asked alms of them, as was there the custom with poor students. The Fugger spoke to me: “From whence are you?” And when he heard that I was a Swiss, he conversed with the Benzenaur, and thereupon said to me: “Are you really a Swiss? then I will adopt you as a son. I will promise you that here, before the council, in Breslau; but you must bind yourself to remain with me your entire life, and where I am, there will you be expected also.” I said, “I have been given into the charge of one from my home; I will speak to him about it.” But when I asked my cousin Paul concerning it, he said: “I have taken you away from your home; I will take you back to your friends again; what they say to you then, that do.” I therefore refused the gentleman. But as often as I came before his house, they did not permit me to go away empty.

I remained thus a long time there; I was three times sick in one winter, so they had to take me to the hospital. For the students had an especial hospital, and their own physician. There was also paid from the town-house sixteen hellers for each sick person every week; with this, one could be supported quite well; they had good attention, good beds, but there was great vermin therein, as large as ripe hempseed, so that I, as others also, preferred to lie on the ground in the room, rather than in the beds. In winter the shooters lie on the ground in the school, but the bacchants in the small chambers, of which there were several hundred at St. Elizabeth. But in the summer when it was hot, we lay in the churchyard, gathered grass together, such as one in summer on Saturdays spreads in the gentlemen's street before the doors. We collected some in a little place in the churchyard, and lay therein like pigs in the straw. But when it rained, we ran into the school; and when there was a thunder-storm, we sang re- sponses and other songs with the sub-cantor almost the whole night.

Occasionally in summer we went after supper to the beer-hall to beg for beer. Then the drunken Polish peasants gave us so much, that I have often unawares become so drunk that I could not return to the school again, though I was only a stone’s-throw away from the school. To sum up, there was enough to eat, but one did not study much.

In the school of St. Elizabeth, indeed, at one time, nine Baccalaureates read at the same hour, in the same room. The Greek language was not yet any- where in the land. Similarly, no one yet had printed books; the preceptor alone had a printed Terence. What one read must first be dictated, then defined, then construed, and then only could he explain it; so that the bacchants had to carry home great, miserable books when they went away.

Thence eight of us betook ourselves to Dresden; it happened again that we suffered much hunger. Then we determined to separate for a day. Some went to look after geese, some after turnips and onions, and one after a pot; but we little ones went into the city of Neumarkt, which was not far from there on the road, and were to look after bread and salt, and in the evening we were to come together again outside the city. We intended to set up our camp there outside the city, and cook what we might have then. A gun- shot distance from the city there was a spring, where we wished to remain for the night. But when those in the city saw the fire, they shot at us, yet did not hit us. Then we betook ourselves behind a ridge to a little brook and thicket; the older comrades cut down branches, and made a hut; one part plucked the geese, of which we had two; others cut up the turnips into the pot, into which we put the head, feet and even the entrails; others made two wooden spits and began to roast; and when it was a little brown we cut off pieces and ate; so also of the turnips. In the night we heard something flapping; there was near us a weir, from which the water had been let off the day before, and the fish were springing up in the mud. Then we took as many fish as we could carry in a shirt on a stick, and went to a village; there we gave a peasant some fish, so that he would cook the others for us in beer.

When we had again returned to Dresden, the school- master and our bacchants sent some of us boys out to find some geese. Then we agreed that I should throw and kill the geese, and they would take them and carry them away. Later, when we had found a flock of geese, and they had observed us, they flew away. Then I took a little cudgel, threw it among them in the air; I injured one so that it fell down. But when my companions saw the goose-herd, they dared not run up to it, though they could have reached it before the herder. Then the others flew down again, surrounded the goose, cackled as if to encourage it. Then it stood up again, and went away with the others. I was much displeased with my companions, that they had not fulfilled their promise. But they did better there- after; for we brought away two geese. The bacchants and the school-master ate the geese as a farewell, and went from there to Nuremberg, and thence to Munich.

On the way, not far from Dresden, it happened that I went to beg in a little village, and came before a peasant’s house. The peasant asked me whence I came. When he heard that I was Swiss, he asked if I did not have any more companions. I replied: “My companions wait for me outside the village.” He said: “Call them here.” He prepared for us a good meal, with plenty of beer to drink. There lay his mother in bed in the room. Then the son said to her: “Mother, I have often heard you say that you would like to see a Swiss before your death. Then you see several, for I have invited them, to please you.” Then the mother raised herself up, thanked the son for the guests, and said: “I have heard so much good of the Swiss, that I have very much desired to see one. Now I think I will die more willingly; therefore be merry.” And then she lay down again. We thanked the peas- ant, and went on again.

When we came to Munich, it was so late that we could not enter the city, but had to remain overnight in the leper-house. When in the morning we came to the gate, they would not let us in unless there was a burgher in the city whom we knew. But my cousin Paul had been in Munich before. He was allowed to fetch the one with whom he had lodged. He came, and spoke well of us, so that they let us in. Then Paul and I came to a soap-boiler by the name of Hans Schrell. He was a Master of Arts, of Vienna, but was an enemy of the Church. He married a beau- tiful girl, and many years later he came with his wife from Vienna to Basel, and here also carried on his trade, as is still known here to many people. For this master I helped to make soap more than I went to the school, and went with him into the villages to buy ashes. But Paul went to the school in the parish “Our Lady,” and I also, but seldom. I went merely that I could sing for bread on the streets and give it to my bacchant, Paul; that is, carry food to him. The woman in the house loved me very much, for she had an old black, blind dog which had no teeth, which I had to feed, put to bed, and lead around in the yard. She said all the time: “Tommy, take the very best care of my dog; you shall then be rewarded.”

When we were there some time, Paul was enamoured of the maiden of the family. This the master would not allow. At last, Paul determined that we would go home once more, for we had not been home in five years.

So we went home to Valais. There my friends could hardly understand me, and said: “Our Tommy speaks so profoundly, that almost no one can under- stand him.” For, because I was young, I had learned something of almost every speech where I had been some time. During this time my mother had once more married, for Heintzmann, “am Grund,” was dead. After the period of mourning she had married one called Thomas, “am Garsteren.” On this account I did not have much of a visit with her. I was for the most part with my aunts, and most of all with my cousin, Simon Summermatter, and my aunt, Frances.

Soon thereafter we set out again, towards Ulm; then Paul took yet another boy, who was called Hilde- brand Kalbermatter, the son of a priest. He also was very young. They gave him cloth, such as is used in that country, for a little coat.

When we came to Ulm, Paul told me to go around with the cloth to beg for money for the making of it. By this I received much money, for I was accustomed to pleasant manners and begging. For this the bac- chants used me continually, though they brought me not at all to the schools, and had not even taught me to read. While I so seldom went into the school, and always, while I should have gone, went around with the cloth, I had the greatest hunger. For all that I re- ceived I brought to the bacchants. I would not have eaten the smallest morsel, for I feared a beating. Paul had taken another bacchant to live with him, called Achacius, from Mainz. I and my companion Hildebrand had to serve them both. But my com- panion ate almost all; then they went on the street after him, so that they might find him eating; or they commanded him to wash out his mouth with water, and to spit in a dish with water, so that they saw whether he had eaten anything. Then they threw him on the bed, and a pillow over his head, so that he could not scream; then both bacchants beat him terribly, until they could no more. Thereafter I was so terrified that I brought home everything; they often had so much bread that it became mouldy. They then cut off the mouldy outside, and gave it to us to eat. While there I often had the greatest hunger, and was fear- fully frost-bitten too, because I often went about in the dark till midnight to sing for bread. Here I must not overlook, but must relate, how at Ulm there was a pious widow, who had two grown-up daughters, yet unmarried, also a son, called Paul Reling, also yet unmarried. Often in winter this widow wrapped my feet up in warm fur, which she had laid behind the stove, so that she could warm my feet when I came, and gave me a dish of vegetables and then allowed me to go home. I have had such hunger that I drove the dogs on the street from their bones, and then gnawed them. I have also searched at school for the bread-crumbs in the cracks on the floor and eaten them.

Thereafter we again went to Munich, where I had to also beg for money for making up the cloth, which, how- ever, was not mine. After a year we came once more to Ulm, intending once more to go home. Once more I brought the cloth with me and begged for money for making it up. I can well remember there, that several said to me: “Odds, torment, is the coat not yet made up? I believe that you are deceiving me with tricks.” When we went from there, I do not know what became of the cloth, nor whether the coat was ever made up or not.

Once more we came home, and from there again to Munich. When we came to Munich, on a Sunday, the bacchants had lodging, but we three little shooters had none; when it was night we intended to go in “die Schrane’—that is, the corn-market—to lie on the corn-sacks. There sat several women by the salt- house in the street, who asked us where we were going. And when they heard that we had no lodging, there was a butcher’s widow with them. When she heard that we were Swiss, she said to her house-maid: “Run, hang the kettle with soup and meat that is left over the fire; they must remain with me for the night, for I am friendly with all the Swiss. I served in an inn in Innsbruck, where Emperor Maximilian held court; there the Swiss had much to do with him, and were so friendly that I will be friendly to them all my life long.” She gave us enough to eat and drink and a good place to sleep. In the morning she said to us: “If one of you will remain with me, I will lodge him and give him to eat and to drink.” We were all willing, and asked which she would have; and as she inspected us, I was more pert than the others. I had had more ex- perience than the others. Then she took me, and I had nothing to do except to fetch the beer, and to fetch the hides and the meat out of the butcher-shop; also to go with her in the fields; but I still had to wait on the bacchants. This did not please the woman, and she said to me: “Odds, torment, leave the bacchants alone and stay with me; then you do not need to beg.” Then for eight days I came neither to the bacchants or to the school. Then Paul came and knocked on the butcher’s door. Then she said to me: “Your bacchant is there. Say you are sick!” Then she let him in and said to him: “You are truly a fine gentleman, and should have inquired how Thomas was He has been sick, and is yet.” He said: “I am very sorry, boy When you get out again, then come to me.” Afterward, on a Sunday, I went to Vespers, and he said to me after Vespers: “You shooter, if you do not come to me, I will trample on you with my feet some day.” Then I determined that he should not oppress me any more; I thought I would run away. On Monday I said to the butcher's widow: “I want to go to the school to wash my shirt.” I dared not say what was in my mind, for I feared that she would tell on me. I went away from Munich with sorrowful heart, partly because I was running away from my cousin, with whom I had travelled so far, but who had been so severe and unmerciful towards me; partly, also, I regretted on account of the butcher’s widow, who had kept me so kindly. I withdrew, however, over the Iser; for I feared if I went towards Switzerland that Paul would follow me; for he had often threat- ened me and the others if one of us ran away, that he would follow him, and whenever he found him, would beat him till both arms and legs were off. On the other side of the Iser is a hill. There I sat down, looked at the city, and wept bitterly, that I no longer had any one who would help me. I thought of going to Salzburg, or to Vienna, in Austria. As I sat there, there came a peasant with a wagon; he had brought salt to Munich, and was already drunk, and yet the sun had just risen. Then I asked him to allow me to get in. I rode with him until he unharnessed in order to feed himself and the horses. Meanwhile I begged in the village, and not far from the village waited for him and went to sleep. When I awoke, I cried heartily, for I thought that the peasant had driven by. I felt as though I had lost my father. However, he soon came, but was drunk; told me again to get in, and asked me where I was going. I said: “To Salzburg!” Now, when it was evening, he drove from the road, and said: “Jump down, there is the road to Salzburg.” We had driven eight miles that day. I came to a village.

When I rose up in the morning, a frost had fallen, as though it had snowed; and I had no shoes, only torn stockings, no cap, and a little jacket without folds. Then I went to Passow, and wished to sail on the Danube to Vienna. When I came to Passow they would not let me in. Then I thought that I would go to Switzerland, and asked the gate-keeper where I should go for the nearest road to Switzerland. He said: “To Munich.” I said: “I will not go to Mu- nich; I would rather go around ten or more miles farther.” Then he directed me to Friesing; there also is a high school.

There I found Swiss, who asked me whence I came. In two or three days, Paul came with a hal- berd. The shooters said to me: “Your bacchant is here from Munich, and seeks you.” Then I ran out of the gate as if he had been behind me, and went to Ulm, and came to my saddler's widow who had for- merly warmed my feet in the fur. She received me. For her I was to guard the turnips in the field. That I did instead of going to school. After some weeks, one came to me who had been a companion of Paul’s, and said: “Your cousin Paul is here, and seeks you.” Then he had followed me eighteen miles; for he had lost a good living in me, for I had supported him for several years. When, however, I heard this, though it was almost night, I ran out of the gate towards Con- stance, and wept once more heartily; for I regretted very much on account of the good woman. When I had almost reached Marsburg, I came to a stone-mason who was a Turgauer. A young peasant met us. The mason said to me: “The peasant must give us money.” And said to him: “Peasant, give us gold or, odds, crack!” The peasant was terrified; I also was very much terrified, and wished that I was not there. The peasant began to pull out his purse. The mason said: “Be quiet, I have only joked.” Then I came over the sea to Constance. Then I went over the bridge, and saw some Swiss peasant children in white jackets. Ah, my God, how happy I was. I thought I was in heaven.

I came to Zurich; there were people from St. Gall, great bacchants; to them I offered myself, as their servant, if they would teach me; but they did this as the others also had done. At that time the Cardinal was also in Zurich. He was trying to gain influence over the Zurichers, that they would go with him to the Pope, but, as it turned out afterward, he cared more for Milan. After some months Paul sent his shooter, Hildebrand, from Munich, saying that if I would come back, he would forgive me. But I would not, but re- mained in Zurich; but I did not study. There was one, called Antony Benetz, from Wisp, in Valais, who persuaded me that we should go with one another to Strassburg. When we came to Strass- burg, there were very many poor scholars there and, as was said, not one good school. But at Schlettstadt was a very good school. We went on the way to Schlettstadt. A nobleman met us and asked: “Where are you going?” When he heard that we wanted to go to Schlettstadt, he dissuaded us, that there were there very many poor scholars and no rich people. Then my companion began to weep bitterly. “Where now can we go?” I comforted him and said: “Be of good couragel If there is one in Schlettstadt who can support himself alone, then will I support both of us.” When we were about a mile from Schlettstadt, and were stopping at a village, I became sick so that I thought that I must choke, and could scarcely get any breath. I had eaten many green nuts, for they fell about this time. Then my companion wept once more, because he thought he would lose his companion. For he knew not how to take care of himself; yet he had ten crowns hidden about him, but I had not one heller. Now, we were come to the city, and found lodging with an aged couple; and the man was stone blind. Then we went to my dear preceptor, now deceased, Mr. John Sapidus, and asked him to receive us. He asked us whence we came. When we said, “From Switzerland, from Valais,” he said: “There, alas, are wicked peasants; they drive their bishops out of the land. If you will study bravely, you need not give me anything; if not, then you must pay me or I will pull your coat from your back.” That was the first school where it seemed to me that things went properly. At that time the studies and languages came into vogue. It was in the year in which the Diet of Worms was held. Sapidus had at one time 900 pupils, some fine learned fellows. There were there at that time Dr. Hieronymus Gemaisaus, Dr. John Huber, and many others, who afterward became doctors and famous men.

CHAPTER IV AT LAST A STUDENT IN SCHLETTSTADT, AND A VISIT HOME

WHEN I entered the school, I could do nothing; not even read Donatus. I was then already eighteen years old. I seated myself among the little children. It was quite like a hen among the little chickens. One day Sapidus read the names of his pupils, and said: “I have many barbarous names; sometime I must latinize them a little bit.” Afterward he read them again; then he had written mine, at first, Thomas Platter, then my companion, Antoninus Benetz. He had trans- lated them * Thomas Platerus, Antonius Benetus, and said: “Who are you two?” When we stood up, he said: “Pfaugh, you are two such mangy, raw shooters, and have such beautiful names | * And it was even true in part. Especially my companion was so mangy that many mornings I must pull off the linen cloth from his body as one would the hide from a goat. But I was more accustomed to the foreign air and food. When we had been there from autumn till Whitsun-

* A common custom at the period of the renaissance; for exam- ple, Erasmus from Gerardi, and Melancthon from Swartzerd.

tide, and yet more students came in from all quarters, I could no longer support us both well; then we went away to Solothurn. There was quite a good school, and also better living. But one must so very fre- quently attend church, and lose so much time, that we went home.

I remained at home a little while, and went to the master in the school, who taught me a little writing, and other things I know not what more. There I had the chills and fever, while I was in Grenchen with my aunt, Frances. During this time I taught my aunt’s little boy, who was called Simon Steiner, the a, b, c’s in a day. More than a year later he came to me in Zurich; he studied by degrees until he came to Strass- burg; he became Dr. Bucer's assistant; he studied so that he became preceptor of the third class and after- ward of the second class. He was married twice. When he died, there was the greatest mourning in the school at Strassburg.

In the following spring I left with my two brothers for foreign lands. When we would take leave from our mother, she wept and said: “May God have mercy on me, that I must see three sons go to a foreign land.” Except then, I never saw my mother cry, for she was a brave, courageous woman, though somewhat rough. When her third husband also died, she re- mained a widow, and did all the work like a man in order that the youngest children could be the better brought up. She hewed wood, thrashed grain, and did other work which belongs more to men than to women. She also buried three of these children herself, when they died in the time of a very great pestilence. For in the time of the pestilence it cost a great deal to have one buried by the grave-diggers. Towards us, the first children, she was very rough, so that we seldom came into the house. At one time I had not been home, as I remember, for five years, and had travelled far in distant lands. But when I came to her, the first words that she said to me were: “Has the devil once more brought you here?” I answered: “Oh, no, mother, the devil has not brought me here, but my feet; but I will not long be troublesome to you.” She said: “You are not troublesome to me, but it grieves me much that you go wandering here and there, and without doubt learning nothing. Learn to work, as your father also did You will become no priest. I am not so fortunate that I should bring up a priest.” So I remained two or three days with her. One morning a great frost had fallen on the grapes as one was picking them. Therefore, I picked and ate of the frozen grapes, so that I had the gripes; so that I was stretched out on all fours, thinking that I must burst in pieces. Then she stood before me and said: “If you wish to, then burst: Why have you eaten so much?” Many other examples of her coarseness I can recall. Otherwise she was a respectable, honest, and pious woman; that every one had said of her and praised her.

When now I went away with my two brothers, and went over the Letschen mountains towards Gastren, my two brothers sat down on the slope of the snow and slid down the mountain. I also wished to do this, and as I did not quickly put my feet apart, the snow threw me over, so that I fell down the mountain, head over heels. It would have been no wonder if I had slid to my death, by striking my head on a tree, for there were no rocks. This happened to me three times, so that I shot down the comb of the ridge head fore- most and the snow fell in heaps on my face; for I always thought that I should be able to do it as well as my brothers, but they were more accustomed to the mountains than I.

CHAPTER V IN ZURICH-STUDY OR DIE–FATHER MYCONIUS

So we travelled together from there on, and they remained in Entlibuch; but I went on to Zurich. There I was with the mother of the famous, pious, and learned man, Rudolph Gualther, who is now the pastor of St. Peter's, in Zurich; at that time he lay in the cradle, so that I have often rocked him. And I at- tended the school in Our Lady’s Cathedral. There was there a school-master, called Master Wolfgang Knöwell, from Barr, near Zug, was a Master of Arts from Paris, who had been called at Paris Gran Dia- bell. He was a great, honest man, but did not take much care of the school; he looked more where the beautiful maidens were, from whom he could scarcely keep away. I should have liked to study, for I per- ceived that it was time.

At that time they said that there would come a School-master from Einsiedeln, who before this had been in Luzern, who was a learned man and a good school-master, but cruelly whimsical. So I made for myself a seat in a corner not far from the school- master's chair, and thought: “In this corner you will study or die.” Now, when he came and entered upon his work (he went in to the school of Our Lady's Cathedral), he said: “This is a nice school”—for it was built only a short time before—“but methinks there are stupid boys, but we shall see; only apply your- self with industry.” This I know—that had my life de- pended upon it, I could not have declined a noun of the first declension. Yet I knew Donat * by heart to a dot. When I was in Schlettstadt, Sapidus had a bach- elor, called Georgius “ab Andlow,” unmarried, a very learned fellow, who worried the bacchants so grievously with Donat, that I thought: “If this is such a good book, then I will learn it by heart.” And when I learned to read it, I learned it also by heart. This was fortunate for me with the good Father Myconius. For, when he began, he read Terence with us; then we were compelled to decline and conjugate all the words of the entire comedy. Then it was that he often laboured with me so that my clothing became wet with per- spiration, yes, even my eyesight dim, and yet he gave me no beating, only once with the back of the hand on the cheek. He also lectured upon the Holy Script- ures; so that many of the laity attended these lect- ures. For it was just in the beginning of the time that the light of the Holy Scriptures was beginning to arise and there yet remained for a long time the mass and the images in the churches.

*The Latin grammar of Donatus.

When he was rough with me, then he took me to his home and gave me to eat; for he liked to have me relate how I had travelled through all the countries of Germany, and how I had fared everywhere, for at that time I remembered it well.

CHAPTER VI ZWINGLI AND THE REFORMATION PERIOD

MYCONIUS was at that time already acquainted with the true religion; yet he must go with his pupils to the church of Our Lady's Cathedral to sing the vesper, matins, and masses, and to direct the singing. One day he said to me: “Custos”—for I was his Custos—“I would much rather read four lectures than to sing a mass. Please take my place occasionally, when there is a candle mass, as a requiem and the like, to be sung; I will reward you for it.” That pleased me much; for I had become accustomed to this not only in Zurich but also in Solothurn and elsewhere. For everything was yet popish. There were many to be found, who could chatter better than they could expound the gos- pels. It was to be seen daily in the schools how wild bacchants went to the consecration, and were ordained, if they could only sing a little, without either power of interpretation or grammar.

When, now, I was Custos, I often had no wood for heating; then I noted what laity came to the school and had a wood-pile before their door, so that at mid- night I have gone here and there to carry wood. One morning I had no wood and Zwingli was to preach before day in Our Lady's Cathedral, and when they were ringing for the service I thought: “You have no wood, and there are so many idols in the church.” And while yet no one was there, I went into the church to the nearest altar, seized a St. John and took it into the school to the stove. And said to him: “Johnny, now bend yourself, for you must into the stove, even though you may be St. John.” When he began to burn, there were great evil blisters out of the oil colors. I thought: “Now hold still; should you stir yourself, which however you will not do, then I will shut the stove door; then you dare not come out, unless the devil carry you out.” Meanwhile the wife of Myco- nius came, since she wished to go to the preaching in the church, for one went close by the door. She said: “God give you a good morning, my child. Have you built a fire?” I shut the stove door and said: “Yes, I already have a fire.” For I would not yet tell it to her; she could have gossipped about it; if it had become known, it would at that time have cost me my life. During the lecture, Myconius said: “Custos, you have surely had wood to-day.” I thought “ St. John has done his best.” When we were about to sing the mass, two priests quarrelled with one another. The one to whom the St. John belonged said to the other: “You Lutheran knave, you have stolen my St. John.” This they continued for a good while. Myconius knew not what it was. But St. John was never found again. I told this to no man, until after some years, after Myconius had become the preacher in Basel. He him- self had wondered concerning it, and remembered how the priests had quarrelled with one another. And although it appeared to me that popery was knavery, I had it yet in mind, that I would become a priest, would be pious, would attend to my office faith- fully and would adorn my altar finely. But when Master Ulrich preached against it so strongly, the longer I doubted, the more I doubted. I prayed more, fasted more, than was agreeable to me. I had also my saints and patrons, to whom I prayed; to each one in particular so much; to Our Lady, that she would be intercessor for me with her son; St. Catherine, that she would help me that I might become learned; St. Barbara, that I might not die without the sacrament; St. Peter, that he would open the heavens for me. And what I neglected, I wrote in a little book. When there was a holiday in the school, for example, on Thursday and Saturday, I went to the Cathedral, wrote all my offences on a chair, and began and atoned for one fault after another, then wiped it away and thought that I had done all right. I went six times on a pilgrimage from Zurich to Einseideln, and was diligent in confes- sion. But in Silesia I unwittingly ate cheese during Lent, as is the custom in our country. Then I con- fessed it, but the priest would not absolve me, unless I would do public penance. Then I thought that I must become the devil’s own. But as I mourned that I dare not go with the other scholars to the Sacrament (one always gave them something to eat when they went to the Sacrament—each burgher always some- thing), then a priest pitied me, and when he heard what troubled me, he absolved me and I went then also to the meal. I often battled for the papacy with my companions until one day M. Ulrich, at the Salnow Church consecration, at Salnow, preached in the court- yard, from the Gospel of St. John, Chapter X: “I am the good shepherd, etc.

” He expounded this so powerfully, that I felt as if one drew me up by the hair; he also pointed out how God would require the blood of the lost sheep from the hands of the shepherds, who were guilty of their destruction. Then I thought, if that is the meaning, then farewell to the priest’s office; I will never become a priest. Yet I carried on my studies, began thereupon to dispute again with my companions, and went faithfully to the sermons. I heard my pre- ceptor, Myconius, very willingly. Yet they still had masses and images at Zurich.

At that time six of us went home to Valais, and when we came, on a Saturday, to Glyss, we heard the priests singing vespers. After vespers, one came and asked: “From where do you come?” I was the boldest and answered: “From Zurich.” Then the priest said: “What have you done in that heretical city?” Then I was angry. “Why a heretical city?” He answered: “For this reason, that they have done away with the mass, and have taken the images out of the churches.” Then I answered: “That is not so, for they celebrate the mass there, and have also images yet; why then are they heretics?” “Because,” he said, “they do not consider the pope as the head of the Christian Church, and do not call upon the saints.” I asked: “Why is the pope the head of the Christian Church?” “For this reason, that St. Peter was the pope at Rome, and has there given the papacy over to his successors.” I said: “St. Peter has never once been in Rome,” and drew my Testament out of my little sack and showed him how in the Epistle to the Romans, St. Paul sends greetings to so many, and does not think of mention- ing St. Peter, who, according to his own speech, was yet above them all. He said: “How could it be true then that Christ met St. Peter before Rome, and had asked him where he would go, and Peter had answered: “To Rome, to allow myself to be crucified.’” I asked him: “Where have you read this.” He answered: “I have often heard it from my grandmother.” I said: “So I perceive, truly, that your grandmother is your Bible.” “Because,” he said, “it stands written; God is wonderful in his works.” Then I stooped down, broke off a little plant, and said: “If all the world worked together, they could not make a little plant like this.” Then he became angry, and our dispute ended. Then we had to go on for more than an hour in the night.

On Sunday morning we came to Wisp. There a lazy, ignorant priest was about to celebrate his first mass. Therefore many priests and scholars came thither and also a great number of others. We students helped the priests to sing the mass. Then one, who was said to be the most famous preacher, preached out through the window. Among other things, he said to the young priest: “Oh, thou noble knight, thou holy knight, thou art holier than the Mother of God herself. For she bore Christ only once, but you will from now hence- forth bear him every day your life long.” Then one in the gallery said out loud: “Priest, thou liest like a knave.” He was from Sitten; a Master of Arts from Basel. The priests all looked at me, and I knew not why, until I saw the priest, with whom I had dis- puted the day before. He had complained of me to the other priests. When now the mass was over, they asked all the priests and students to dinner, but no one invited me. No one can believe how happy I was then, and how willingly I would have fasted for Christ. But when my mother saw me, for she had seen me in the gallery, she asked: “How does it come that no one has invited you?” Then she cut cheese and bread in a dish, and busied herself with a soup for me. A few days thereafter I came to the priest, who had preached so prettily; for he was in the village where my mother was also. He invited me as a guest. Among other things, he said: “If I were with Zwingli I would controvert him with three words.” When I came again to Zurich, I told it, at the request of my preceptor, Myconius, to Zwingli. He laughed, and said: “When you go home again, then ask that he write the three words for me.” After about two years, I came again, and then informed him of Zwingli’s desire, that he should write for him the three words, and others. He did it. But when I brought them to Zwingli, and he read it, he laughed a little while. When he had finished reading, he said: “Oh, fool, he is indeed a poor man! Take the letter to Myconius.” Then I called all my countrymen together and read the letter. There was nothing therein except from the Decretals. Once when I was home with my uncle, mother's brother, who at that time was “Castellan’—that is the head man of the Wisper district—I said to him after supper: “Uncle, I will start out again in the morning.” He said: “Whither?” I said: “To Zurich.” “Do not do that at your peril,” he said, “for the confederates will invade it, and have sent messengers from all places, called upon the people, to draw together, there; they would teach them, to give ” I said: “And is no one here up their heretic faith. from Zurich?” He said: “There is a messenger here with a letter.” I said: “Has any one read the letter before the messengers and the people?” He answers:

“Yes.” “And what did the letter contain P” I asked. Then he said: “In the letter is the declaration, that they have accepted a doctrine; by it they will abide; but that if anyone can convince them of another out of the Old or New Testament, then will they give it up.” I said: “But is this not right?” Then he said, with emphatic words: “The devil take them with their New Testament.” I was horrified, and said: “Oh, God, how you speak. It is no wonder, if God should punish you in body and soul, for what is the New Testament?” He said: “It is their new heretic doctrine, the deputies have so informed us, especially from Bern.” There- upon I said: “The New Testament is the new cov- enant, which Christ established with the faithful, and sealed with his blood; that is written in the four gospels and the epistles of the holy Apostles.” He said: “Is that so?” I replied: “Yes; and if you are willing, I will go with you to-morrow to Wisp, and if they will let me speak publicly, I will neither be ashamed nor afraid concerning this.” Then he said: “If it is thus, then I will not be for this, that they shall go against them.”

On the following day the people assembled them- selves together, and determined upon this answer: This affair was a religious matter, and because the Zurichers desired to be instructed in the Scriptures, they would let the priests and the learned men settle it among themselves. So nothing came of it, and I went again to Zurich, and continued in my studies in the greatest poverty. For they did not yet give public alms, and I was now quite large, and was ashamed to sing; the people also cried out to me, calling me a priest, and other words. Then I had a companion, who was not without quali- fication, who became dispenser at Uri. I followed him. Then things went worse than before. When I sang for bread there, they were not accustomed to it. I had the voice of a bacchant. I was not a month there, and I desired to go again to Zurich. Then I had not more than three hellers. I came to the Urner Lake and I went into an inn at Fluelen, a little village on the lake. I asked the innkeeper if she would give me a piece of bread for three hellers. She gave me a large piece of cold boiled meat, and a large piece of bread, and would not take the three hellers either. Then I went to the lake; there came a little boat from Brunnen, which is a little village on the lake, in the Swiss province. I asked the boatman if he would ferry me over the lake, for God's sake, because he must otherwise go home empty. He said: “I will get my breakfast; wait here, then I will carry you over.” At that time there was also a man at the warehouse, whither they brought the merchandise. He said: “Comrade, I have there some barrels of Veltliner wine; guard this for me; then you can drink as much as you like; but permit none else there.” He gave me a little reed and led me to the casks, and then went to eat. Then I ate the large piece of bread and meat and drank enough of the wine. I did not know the kind of the wine. Then the man came, and said: “Have you cared for it well?” I replied: “Yes.” Soon the boatman came, and said: “Well, come on, comrade, do you wish to cross the lake?” Then I staggered down to the boat, and the people laughed at me. When I tried to step into the boat, I stepped beside it, and fell headlong into it. The boat- man laughed, and he to whom the wine belonged said that the boatman had freighted himself with a good companion. But the wine went out of my head, you may believe me, for there came on such a storm that even the boatman thought that we must be drowned. The waves often covered the whole boat, and this continued until we came to the shore at Brun- nen; then we were both wet as water. Except this time I have never again crossed over the Urner Lake, though often over the Lake of Lucerne; only when I wished once more to go from Basel have I crossed over, as will hereafter be related in its place. I came then again to Zurich, where I boarded with an old woman, called Adelheid Hutmacherin. She commonly had five or six wenches in the house, who had companions, who supported them. And though their evil conduct did not please me, yet I had a good companion who was tolerably apt, and had a little room to myself; we left the others undisturbed in their ways. Though God knows that I have often had the greatest hunger, many days no mouthful of bread to eat; more than once have I put water in a pan, asked the woman for a little salt, salted the water, and drunk it from hunger. I had to give the woman a Zurich shilling each week for room rent. Then I sometimes carried messages for the people over the country; they gave me a batz for each mile. With this I then paid the woman. Also I helped to carry wood or other things; then the people gave me some- thing to eat. Then I was pleased, and well satisfied. I was also Custos. For this I received every quarterly fast a Zurich angster* from each boy. There were about sixty boys, rather more than less. Zwingli, Myconius, and others have also often used me to send me with letters to the five places? that were lovers of the truth, in which journeys I have often risked life and limb with joy, in order that I might spread abroad the teachings of the truth. Several times I have barely escaped. -

About this time was the disputation at Baden, where Doctors Eck, Faber, Murner, and others who were there, suppressed the truth, as they often before had done, and continued even till the end. Then Zwingli also was to go thither (on account of whom the matter

* About one cent.

+ Luzern, Zug, Schwyz, Uri, and Unterwalden.

was so planned that he was to be condemned thereby), as thus became evident. Therefore the people of Zu- rich did not wish him to go to the disputation. For the Pensionaires” thought, if Zwingli was no more there, then would the people of Zurich be easily per- suaded, that they also should be French, and there would be so many the more of them who would serve the King, for there were yet in the city very many, who were good Frenchmen, who would have been wil- ling that Zwingli should be burned. As then it was clearly shown that they would murder him in the night, when he was called out of the house to visit a rich person, and when he would not go, had thrown at him with stones through the window, as thereof it might be well to write. Another time 500 crowns had been promised if he was brought alive, or 400 crowns if a certain sign that he had been killed. A party of three sought for him with the feet of their horses muffled with felt. One of these had spied out where Zwingli would eat as a guest, and then sought to wait on him then, and has planned to stuff a gag in his mouth and carry him away. Therefore he had often been in danger of his life in the city of Zurich. But God has guarded him that he should not be murdered, but in open battle, as a shepherd perishes with his sheep, as he had prophesied this of himself, that I could testify to with some who are yet living.

* By the French king.

Though now they would not allow Zwingli to attend the disputation, yet the entire disputation was con- ducted through him, namely thus, that Ocolampadius, who disputed against Eck for the most part, should let him know always what happened in the disputa- tion. There was a young fellow from Valais, Hier- onymus Wälschen, who was ordered that he act as if there for the baths, and so far as possible to write down everything of Eck’s argument. He attended the en- tire disputation, carefully noted the arguments, then went back to the baths and wrote down everything; for none dared write in the church except the four sec- retaries, who were appointed for that purpose. For one dictated everything that was written, and it was forbidden, on penalty of life and limb, to write any- thing else whatever, anywhere during the disputation, or they were to be condemned without any further cer- emony—that is, one's head was to be cut off on the spot. Almost every day, I and another one, called Hieronymus Zimmerman, who was from Winterthur, carried the writings of the student Wälschen, and of Dr. Ocolampadius, and of other friends to Zwingli, so that they might know in Zurich what was done in Baden. And when one asked me: “With what do you go around?”—for at all the gates were watchmen, with arms—then I said: “I carry fowls to sell.” For in Zurich they gave me fowls, which I carried to the baths, and gave them to whom they told me. What my companion said, I know not. But the watchmen won- dered where I so quickly obtained the fowls. It came to pass on the evening of Whitsuntide, that Eck desired to know when the disputation was to be finished, who then should judge, who should prevail. Thereupon Ocolampadius consulted with his brethren, what answer should be made to this. Would they agree on the next day that they would make answer to the arguments? For Eck thought the messengers who were present should then judge; they were almost all popish; and if one would not intrust them with this thing, then they would be angry. On the evening, just before supper, I went to Ocolampadius and asked whether he would not write to M. Ulrich. He answered: “I would willingly write, and it would be necessary, but I fear that you are under suspicion. If you have been to-day in the disputation, then you have probably heard whereto we should answer.” I said: “That I will relate to him carefully by word of mouth.” Then he was well pleased. I had just time to go out of the city gate, and ran almost uninterruptedly to Zurich. I went to the house of Myconius, who was already in bed, and showed to him what was at stake. Then he said: “Then go hence, and if M. Ulrich is in bed, do not cease to ring until they let you in.” For I had thought that I need not announce it until the morn- ing. I began to ring; everyone was in bed. I rang the bell so that the watchman, standing opposite, said:

“What devil is making such a noise?” I said: “Cas- par, I am here.” He recognised me by my voice, and knew well that I came very often to M. Ulrich, and said: “Custos, is it you?”—for almost every man called me Custos, because I had been Custos for so long a time at the Cathedral of Our Lady—“Ring again.” After a long time, an old man, called Gervasius, came out. He had been a priest, and had been for some years with Zwingli. He asked me who I was. I said: “Mr. Gervasius, I am here.” He let me in, and asked: “What do you want so late? Is it not possible that M. Ulrich be permitted to rest for one night? He has not in six weeks gone to bed—not so long as the dis- putation has lasted.” And we knocked on the door a good while. He soon came out, when he heard that I was there, and rubbed his eyes. “Oh, you are a rest- less man. For six weeks I have not gone to bed, and had thought, because to-morrow is Whitsuntide, that one could rest.” And he went into the room and said: “What do you bring?” I told him orally of the affairs, and why I had no letter. Then he said: “Odds, is it only that? Then Eck has worked one of his tricks. I will write. Do you know a boy who will return?” I said: “Yes.” Then he said: “If you will eat, I will call the maid, so she can cook you a supper.” I replied: “I would much rather sleep,” and wished him good-night. I sent to him a boy, to whom he gave the letter, and sent him on the way that night, and he came before day to Baden. A man with a wagon full of hay had been delayed until late in the evening. The boy climbed up on the wagon, laid down on the hay, and went to sleep. In the morning he drove the load of hay in the city to the market before the boy awoke. Then he awakes, and looks around, sees the houses, and then brings the letter to Ocolampadius. But what Zwingli had written, I do not know exactly, but I can well imagine it from the words which he spoke to me in the room. Then he said: “Who will teach the peasants to understand who is right or not? They understand better the milking of cows. Why should one write down everything, if not that one should allow the reader to judge? Does not Eck know how a coun- cil should be conducted?”

CHAPTER VII THE STUDENT, TEACHER, AND ROPE-MAKER

I REMAINED thus in poverty in Zurich until Master Henry Werdmüller accepted me as a teacher for his two sons. There I had my dinner every day. The one son, called Otto Werdmüller, thereafter became a Master of Arts of Wittenberg, and the pastor of the church in Zurich; but the other was killed at Kappel. There I had no more want, but I almost overworked with study. I wished to study the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages at the time. Many a night I slept only a little, but struggled grievously against sleep. I have often taken cold water, raw turnips, or sand in my mouth in order that, if I fell asleep, I might be awakened by my teeth grating together. On this ac- count, also, my dear father, Myconius, has often warned me, and would say nothing to me, if I sometimes fell asleep even during the lecture. And though I could never arrange it, that I could take lectures in Latin, Greek, or Hebrew grammar, I read them with others, in order that I might improve myself. For Myconius, at first, only drilled us in frequent exercises in the Latin language; he himself did not understand Greek very well. For the Greek language was yet rare, and was only a little used. But privately, I compared Lucian and Homer in translations with the texts. It happened also that Father Myconius took me to live with him in his own house; he had several boarders, among whom was also Doctor Gesnerus, with whom I was to study Donatus and the declensions. This prac- tice was exceedingly good for me. At this time, Myco- nius had as assistant the learned gentleman Theodore Bibliandrus, who was extraordinarily well versed in all the languages; above all in the Hebrew language. He had written a Hebrew grammar. He also ate at the table of Myconius. I asked him to teach me to read the Hebrew. He did this so that I could read printing and writing. Then I arose every morning, built a fire in Myconius's little apartment, sat before the stove and copied the grammar while he slept, so that he has never found it out.

In this year Damien Irmi, of Basel, wrote to Pelli- canus in Zurich, asking if there were now any poor fellows who would like Hebrew bibles; he was going to Venice, then he would bring some back as cheaply as possible. Dr. Pellicanus told him to bring twelve. When they were brought, they sold them for a crown. I had yet one crown from my father's estate, which I had received not long before. I gave it for one, and began to compare it. Then came one day a Mr. Con- rad Pur, a preacher at Matmanstetten in the Canton of Zurich. When he saw me with the Hebrew bible he asked: “Are you a Hebrew scholar? You must also teach me.” I said: “I cannot.” But he would not desist, until I promised him. I thought, “you are here with Myconius, and he might perhaps become dis- pleased.” I went with him to Matmanstetten, began to read Dr. Munster's grammar, to compare the origi- nal text with translations and drilled myself. I had then also plenty of food and drink. I was there twenty-seven weeks with him. Then I came to Hedigen to Mr. Hans Weber, also a preacher, and was with him about ten weeks. After that I came to another pastor in Riffelischwyl who was eighty years old, but desired even then to learn Hebrew.

Then I came again to Zurich. And because I had often heard preached: “By the sweat of thy brow shalt thou eat bread,” and how God had blessed labour, and how one made priests of all students and also M. Ulrich said, that one should teach boys to work, there were anyway many priests—many everywhere were giving up their studies. There came a fine scholarly young man from Luzern, called Rodolphus Collinus, who wished to go to Constance to take orders. Zwingli and Myconius persuaded him that he should learn the rope-making trade for this money. When he married and became a master I asked him if he would teach me also the rope-making trade. He said he had no hemp. There had come to me from my deceased mother a little inheritance: therewith I bought the master a hundred- weight of hemp, and learned with that as much as pos- sible, and yet all the time had a desire for study. When the master imagined I slept, I rose up secretly, struck a light, and took a Homer and secretly my master's trans- lation, wherewith I annotated my Homer. Thereafter when I followed the handiwork I carried my Homer with me. When my master found this out he said: “Platere, pluribus intentus minor est ad singula sensus; either study or follow the trade.” Once, when we at night ate with a water flask, he said: “Platter, how does Pin- dar begin?” I said: “Apurrow pºv to $80p.” He laughed and said: “Then we will follow Pindar, and as we have no wine, will drink water.” Now, when I had worked up my hundredweight, my year of service was up. I wished to go to Basel; it was before Christmas. Then I took my farewell from the master as if I would go away, and went to my old lodging with Mother Adelheid, and remained con- cealed with her, annotated Euripides, so that I might take it, as also my Homer, with me on the road, when I wandered: for I had the intention of continuing my studying.

When I wished to depart I went the night before to the bath at the coach house, sat down in a corner, so that no one could recognise me; and when it became too hot for me, I feared that I would faint. I ran out and fell before the bath-room door in the mire. When I grew cold, I went into the dressing-room and dressed. Then they saw how I had covered myself with dirt, and the keeper of the bath said: “He has bathed poorly.” But I did not want to go again into the bath- room, for I feared that the master would find out that I had not gone away.

In the morning I took my bundle, went out through the gate, went in one day from Zurich as far as Mut- tenz, from there to Basel. I sought a master, and came to Master Hans Stahelin, who was called the red rope- maker of the meat market. Of him it was said that he was the roughest master that could be found on the Rhine River. On this account, then, the rope-maker apprentices would not willingly remain with him, and I could so much the easier come to him. When he employed me I could scarcely hang up the hemp strands, and could turn them only a little. Then the master showed his disposition, and began to struggle and curse: “Go hence,” he said, “gouge out the eyes of the master who has taught you! What shall I do with you? You can do nothing.” But he knew not that I had worked up no more than a hundredweight of hemp. I dared not tell it to him. For he had a very wicked apprentice, who was from Altkirch, who is yet alive; he could work better than I, and treated me very shamefully, called me a cowmouth and other things. I dared not complain to the master, for he was also a rude Schwabian. Yet I intended to re- main. Then I tried it with the master eight days. Then I addressed the master in a friendly way that he should bear with me, he should give me something or not anything for wages, whichever of the two he wished. I would give him a true service and would write down everything industriously, for no one in the house could write. I persuaded him, I said: “I have learned little, that I know; my master has had for the most part no hemp.” He retained me and gave me during the week a batz. Therewith I bought a light, and studied at night by it; although I had to work every night until one blew the trumpet, and in the morning up again with the trumpet. Yet I endured it will- ingly, in order that I could remain and learn the trade. Then the apprentices of the journeyman found out, how I know not, that without doubt I had not served out my time of apprenticeship. For it was the custom for the most part that one must learn for two years; they thought that the master should give me a fur- lough, or they would work no more in Basel. Then I asked first the one of them and then the other that they would permit me to remain; I was friendly with them; I could not give them much, for I had nothing myself. I remained thus a half year. Then I could turn out a day's work, and could take a journeyman’s place, and oversee the workshop for the master. Often I worked when we made the large cords or other ropes so that the sweat came out on me; then the master laughed and said: “If I had studied as much as you, and had such a love for it, I would rather that the devil keep the rope-making.” For he saw well that I had especial love for books. -

I had an acquaintance with the pious printer, Andres Cratander, whose son, Polycarpus, was a boarder of my master Rudolph Collinus while I studied with him. Cratander gave me a Plautus, which he had printed in octavo, which was not yet bound. Then I took one leaf after another, stuck it in a little fork, and stuck the fork in the hemp, which lay in a pile below. Then I read on my backward and forward trips as I turned the rope. If then my master came, I would quickly throw the hemp over it. One time he caught me, and then he behaved outrageously and cursed. “Odds, master, that I should abuse you as a priest. If you will study, then go to that, or otherwise follow the trade. Is it not enough that I permit you to study at night and on holidays? Must you also read during the turning?” On holidays, as soon as I had eaten dinner, I took my little book, went with it somewhere into a little garden house, and read the whole day until the watchman called out. For my master had no guest room in the meat market, as did the rope-makers who dwelt in the suburb. By degrees I made the ac- quaintance of some students, especially with those of Dr. Beatus Rhenanus. These and others often came before the shop and besought me that I should give up rope- making, that they would bring it about through their master's acquaintance that he would commend me to Erasmus Roterdamus. He would recommend me then perhaps to some bishop, or some one else. But it was all in vain, although the two gentlemen once came to me on St. Peter's Place. There I was helping make a large rope. The very famous Erasmus presented him- self as the pupils had announced to me. But I was yet willing to go on with the greatest toil and labour, to freeze during the winter cold, to eat poorly and not enough. For the master was a deceptive Schwabian, bought cheese that stunk so badly that no one could eat it, so that the woman had to hold her nose and said to me that I should throw it away when the master was not at home. It went very roughly and evilly with me. By degrees I also became acquainted with Dr. Opo- rinus and others. He asked me that I should teach him Hebrew. I excused myself, I knew only a little and had no time. Yet he kept at me so much that I said to the master that I would serve him for nothing, or would take a little less for it; for he had increased my wages. He allowed me each day an hour from four to five. Then Oporinus affixed a notice in the church that there was one there who would teach the rudi- ments of the Hebrew language on Mondays from four to five at St. Leonhardt's. Oporinus was at that time the schoolmaster. When I came there at the hour and expected to find Oporinus alone there were eighteen of them there, fine, learned fellows; for I had not seen the notice on the church door. When I saw the fel- lows I would away. But Dr. Oporinus said: “Do not go away! these are also good fellows.” But I was ashamed in my rope-maker's apron. Yet I permitted myself to be persuaded. I began to read with them the grammar of Dr. Munsterus. It had not come to Basel. I read to them also the prophet Jonah as well as I was able.

In the same year there came a Frenchman, sent out by the Queen of Navarre, who also entered the school. When I entered in my poor clothes I sat down behind the stove, where there was a fine little seat, and per- mitted the students to sit by the table. Then the Frenchman asked: “When comes our professor?” Oporinus pointed to me. He looked at me and was much astonished: he thought, without doubt, such a one should be better dressed. When the last ones were out, he took me by the hand, led me out over the little bridge and asked me, as we walked on, how I came to be so dressed. I said: “Mea res ad restem rediit.” Then he said, if I was willing, that he would write to the queen for me in my behalf. She would esteem me as a god if I would only follow him. But I would not follow him. He attended my lectures until he went away. He was richly dressed with a golden crest, had also his own servant, who carried after him a mantle and hat, when it rained; I know not why. After nine years the same person came again into our country. When he saw me from afar with the Augustins he cried out: “O salve, praeceptor Platere!” I asked him from where he came. Then he said that he had been nine years in Crete, Asia, and Arabia with the most learned Jewish rabbis, and that now the Hebrew language was as well known to him in all its parts as his mother tongue, and that he wished now to go home with joy: he came yet richly dressed.

CHAPTER VIII THE FIRST KAPPEL WAR–JUNE, 1529

I REMAINED then with my red rope-maker until they went for the first time against the Five Places. My master was also called out. Then he wished to close the shop until he returned again. I thought that I would like to go with him, especially since they would go towards Kappel, where I formerly had taught Hebrew to the pastor of Matmansetten, and where all the accommodations were known to me; and carry my master’s armour over the Schafmat and even as far as to Matmanstetten. There was the captain, squire, Balthasar Hildebrand, with his lieutenant, Fandrick, and others, assigned to him by the council in the preacher's house. There I was known. They served wine: the leaders from Basel with their people were there and in the next village: on one day, I think it was St. John’s evening, our captain went to the Zurich- ers towards Kappel. For they had for some days treated of peace, but it was not yet concluded up to one that afternoon. Then we heard fearful shooting, the small cannons were being shot off, and our captain ordered that they should permit the people to with- draw; peace was concluded, and for this reason they had shot off the salutes. It crackled just as when one burned the juniper. Then they withdrew to Basel, but the captain did not come. This astonished the gentlemen of Matmanstetten, and they decided, because I knew the way well, they would send me to Kappel to the captain—for the soldiers were with the captain— and have me inquire what was now the cause that he had commanded the people to go home, and why he did not come, nor offered anything else. Then I went to Kappel, and as I came to the cloister it was quite about the time that the captain could hardly know me; for he was riding out of the cloister, and asked whether I wished to go. Then I told him of the affairs. He said to me: “Go into the cloister, ask for the clerk Reinhart of Zurich, and say I have sent you to him to await for the answer.” I went in. Then Reinhart called to them to give me to eat. About midnight we lay down on the benches—that is, I and my companions. When it was about two o'clock some one woke us up and said the messengers are here— that is, those who were to bring the treaty which the Five Places had established with the Roman King. There, in the articles of peace, it was agreed upon that the treaty should be made public. But on the day that this should be done no one admitted having the treaty, and indeed one place sent it on to the other. For the peace was not complete until this was done. The treaty was brought up in the night about two. When now everyone was up, they came together in a hall and the sheriff of Glarus took the treaty, for he had always been the leading arbiter. He gave the treaty to a clerk, who opened it; it was fearfully wide and long, the like of which I had never seen, and I believe there were nine seals thereon: a great one that was golden. Then the clerk began and read a long preface with the title, as one reads at Basel on St. John’s day in the square; thereafter also the Five Places, as these with these titles were called in the treaty, that had made a confederacy, and so on. Then the sheriff struck his hand on the treaty and said: “It is enough !” Then one behind me, who was without doubt from Zurich, cried out: “Read the treaty out, so we can hear with what kind of treachery they wished to deceive us!” The sheriff turned around to him and said: “How, read it to an end? Before that you must hack me into little pieces before I will permit it.” He put the treaty together again and said: “Alas, you are already too much embit- tered with one another.” He took a little knife, first cut off the seals, cut up the treaty into long strips and then into little pieces and gave them to the clerk in a little cap, so that he might throw them in the fire; whither the seals went I know not. As it was now almost day, Reinhart sent me to the captain, to bring him the message that the peace was now estab- lished, the treaty given out and burned. The captain came to meet me in the morning. I told to him what Reinhart had commanded. He gave me five batz and then I went homeward with joy. I went again to Zurich, saw with what great triumph they marched in, how they drew all the artillery up to the castle, and shot it off over the Limmat and the large city: it was such a salute that great boughs fell from the linden, and on the other side of the Limmat some windows were broken in. On the next Sunday Zwingli preached and showed what kind of a peace had been made; this would bring about that in a short time they would strike together their hands over their heads, as it really came to pass in the second expedition.

CHAPTER IX MARRIAGE-SCHOOL-MASTER AT HOME AFTER that I remained a while with Master My- conius and studied. Then he advised me, as also the mother, that I should marry their maid, Anna, and wander no more. Then they would give us the inher- itance. I permitted myself to be persuaded, and Father Myconius presented us to each other. But I was not with Myconius for lodging, but with the old hat-maker, Simon Steiner, who then was studying in Zurich. He then had his support from the priests. After some days we went to Dubendorf to Mr. My- conius's brother-in-law, who was a preacher, to the church and celebrated our marriage with such splen- dor that the people who were with us at the table knew not that it was a marriage. Thereafter we went again into the city, and I went to live in my lodging, for we both wished to keep it secret.

For two days I went home to Valais, told my friends that I had married. They were not pleased, for they had hoped that I would become a priest. Then I resolved to carry on the rope-maker's trade, and be- sides to keep school. I went again to Zurich, and was six weeks there. We were now resolved that we would both go home. Then Myconius was indebted to the mother fourteen guilders for wages. He gave her two guilders. With that we went from there on the first day to Matmanstetten to the gentleman whom I had taught Hebrew. The next day we went to Luzern to my wife’s brother, called Clami Dietschi, who sup- ported himself by broom, basket, and chair-making. The family of the Dietschen is from Wippschingen, a little village below Zurich on the Limmat, belonging to the Zurich church. My wife on her father's side was descended from here, but her mother was from Merlin on the Zurich lake. Her father and mother died early. On this account she was brought up by friends until she was able to go away into service. Then she served, and usually long in a service, and then also at last with Father Myconius, with whom she was serving in her seventeenth year; many nights has not slept much, but has spun alone in her room, so that the wife, whom she called mother, could so much the better support herself with Father Myconius. She also often spun for herself on a holiday, and then sold the cotton yarn. That earned her much. For she could spin well, and while I was with Myconius she has frequently spun late in the night, so that I sat by the table and stud- ied, while neither of us had thought that we would become man and wife. It brought her little wages, as was the custom at that time; in three years scarcely as much as one gives one maiden now in a year. Yet she made quite good clothing for herself. From Luzern we went to Sarnen in Unterwalden, came to a landlord and landlady, who were both so drunk that they did not know one another, but re- mained lying on benches in the room. And if my wife and the landlady had not prepared the bed before sup- per we would not have known where we should sleep, and it was on Saturday. The landlord could play the lute with a spring and sang then with great noise, so that I said: “Do not scream so, or the people will beat us well.” “No much more,” said the landlord, “if the sheriff knew it, even if he were already asleep, he would get up again.” For in Unterwalden they often do not go to bed when they come to drinking. There- fore people say: “Shall we have an Unterwalden night?” and although they lay on the benches, yet they could well make out the reckoning in the morning, so that I and my wife had but to pay. From there we went to Hasli, from there to the Grimsel mountain. It had already snowed, and was yet before St. Gall’s day, for on St. Leodogar’s day we were in Luzern. Then it began to dawn upon my wife it would go roughly, for we were compelled to eat very coarse bread. There were also some men who wished to cross the mountains on the next day who spoke to me: “You dare not take the woman over the moun- tain.” There my wife had good living ! She must lie in the straw, to which she was not accustomed. On the next day we arose and God helped us over the moun- tain, although her clothing was frozen to her body. We came to Minster in Gomss in Valais, four miles above Wisp, whither we wished to go. There also it had snowed. And because they heard that we came from Zurich we were not treated in a friendly manner. Then we had just enough for a day's lodging and one thick pfennig. Therewith my wife bought flax, for she could spin well the yarn for cloth. We came on the next day to the Bridger bath. There we found a countrywoman, and the landlord was also from Zurich, and the keeper at the bath. The woman was Master Schwitzer's daughter in Renweg, who afterward became banneret and perished at Kappel. The daughter had perhaps run away from the father. Such Zurich maid- ens one has too often found in Valais; for they go the more willingly from the sour Zurich wine to the sweet Valais wine. She comforted my wife. “There were good people in Valais, it would go well with her.” From the bath we went up a very high mountain to Burgen to my sister Christine. She had a husband and nine children; the husband had two aunts, who were so old that they knew not how old they were; also no one else. With her we remained until St. Gall's day. There I had inherited some household goods that my sister had kept for me; she loaned me their ass, there- with I carried them to Wisp into a house for the use of which I did not have to pay anything; there was a bed therein which no one used; they loaned that to us also without charge. It was about the most pleasant house in the village, with fine pane-glass windows. Then things began to go well.

Once an aunt saw me who came to my house in Wisp, bid me welcome, and asked: “Thomas, when will you hold a mass for us?” A noble young woman, who was the aunt of the Bishop Dr. Adriani of Riedmat- ten, heard this and said: “He has brought with him a long mass.” At another time my cousin, Mr. Anthony Platter, of St. Martin, came to Wisp to me in the church after mass; he said, “They say you have brought a wife with you.” I answered: “Yes.” He said: “The devil orders that.” I said: “Sir, you do not find that in the Bible.” Thereupon he became so angry that he for a long time thereafter would not speak to me. He had the name in the whole country that he was a good Bible student, for he read much in the Bible, but understood only a little, only made the pages red with red chalk.

Then I began to prepare for rope-making and to hold school. I began to make rope; I received thirty-one scholars; most in winter, but in summer scarcely six. One of them gave me on the four past weeks a thick pfennig; and we had with that a good thing, for the people gave us much. I had several aunts. One brought eggs, the other a cheese, this one a ball of butter; similarly also the others, whose children went to school to me, brought such things; some a quarter of a sheep. Those who were at home in the village gave milk, vegetables, came with wine, and so on, so that seldom a day went by without that something was sent to us. We have sometimes at night reckoned up that eight or nine kinds of things had been presented to us in the day.

A few weeks previously, before I came with my wife, the women were with one another in the Eister valley in a room, and spoke about me—what a lordly first mass I would have, what a great offering would be made to me; for of my mother's friends alone, the Summermatters, there were seventy-two cousins and aunts who were as yet unmarried, and could themselves carry the offering to the altar. Then they understood that I had come with a wife'

When we began to keep house I borrowed from my Uncle Anthony Summermatter, whom people usually called Antony, “Zum Lichtenbuhl,” thirty great—that is, fifteen Switz batz. With that we began to keep house; began to purchase wine; sold it by the measure; bought also apples; my wife sold them to the boys that wanted them. -

Things now went well with us, and with the help of pious people we got along, so that we had no wants, and my wife was much pleased then. But the priests were not all friendly to me, though they also did me good, and also often invited me as a guest, so that I might not lean to Lutherism too much. But as I must go to the church to help sing mass it was troublesome to me to help in the idolatry against my conscience, to be there and not to dare at all times to speak freely what was in my heart. I thought what should I do that I could escape from it; I went over to Zurich to counsel with my Father Myconius; he advised me that I should leave this place, for I had also some hope to be ap- pointed at Basel.

As I went home again I had with me one of my pupils who could not follow me very well on the Grim- sel mountain. It began to snow and rain. It was so cold that it lacked only a little that we were both frozen. Yet because I knew the mountain ways I said to the boy that he should not sit down, but should go on and on. I went a piece farther, so that I warmed myself, and ran back again to the boy, until we thus, with the help of God, came to the hospice. This is a monastic inn on the mountain; there one finds good eating and drinking. This was the middle of August. Another time, also, I had gone over the same moun- tain, and, as I was alone, and as yet knew not the char- acter of the mountain, I became weary and tired, and sat down and wished to rest. Then a pleasant warmth came and I slept with my arms folded on my knees. Then a man came to me, placed a hand on each of my shoulders, woke me up, and said: “So, why do you sit here? Stand up and go!” Where the man then went I know not; I looked far up and down, but I saw the man no more. Then I stood up, took out of my little sack a piece of bread and ate. Now when I related this to some people, who understood the ways of the mountains, they said that I had been as good as dead. For when one becomes fearfully cold on the mountains and sits down out of weakness, then he be- comes warm; for the blood runs from his heart to his face and extremities, which before was at the heart, while he was so cold. For when one sits down, the blood runs from the heart and the man dies. And I can think nothing else but that God has preserved my life, as also people said to me. For there is no more painless death than freezing. On this account people are often found sitting on the mountain, as if they were sleeping, and are dead. Therefore, when the night overtakes some on the mountain, and they know this danger, they take one another by the hand and go around in a ring the whole night, even if it is dark, until it becomes day again.

When now I came home to my wife she was rejoiced. For a pestilence had attacked the priest. The people showed such unfriendliness towards him that only a young fellow was with him; no one else would take care of him, so that she had anxiety about what would happen to her if she became sick. I also had experi- enced this some years before. Then, as I went to the school in Zurich, there was there a fearful pestilence, so that they buried in one grave by the great cathedral nine hundred men and in another seven hundred. Then I went away from home with the other country people. Then I had a boil on one leg; I thought that it was also the pestilence. Then the people would re- ceive us scarcely anywhere. I went to Grenchen to my Aunt Frances. Then from Galpentran—it is a little village below the mountain—even to Grenchen, I fell asleep eighteen times in half a day. Then my aunt bound cabbage-leaves on the boil, and with the help of God it became well, and nothing happened to any one else. But neither I nor my aunt dared in six weeks to come to any one. I have also been in a pesti- lence at Zurich, while I boarded with the mother of Dr. Rudolph Gualterus, who, because she did not have many beds, had to give me a bed with two little girls; the pestilence attacked both; they died beside me, but it did not attack me.

And, although my wife liked Valais, I thought of getting away from there as soon as possible. Yet be- fore that our first child was born. The little child was christened and called Margaret; two very noble women were godmothers, and a very pious lover of the truth, Egidus Meier, who had also studied, was god- father. Some one said to me a few days thereafter some people had thought that my wife would not re- cover as a punishment for my not becoming a priest. Then I said in a public place: “Before I would become a priest”—for they had hoped for that—“I would be a player or a hangman.” That offended many most seriously.

Hereafter, when I already had it in mind to leave the country, and the Bishop, Mr. Adrian von der Reid- matten, heard it, he sent his cousin, Jonas Reidmatten, to me at Wisp, requested me that I should become the school-master of the whole land, and they would give me a good living. I thanked his grace, and asked for indulgence for yet a few years; I was yet young and un- learned; and would like to study some more. Then he shook his finger at me and said: “O Platter, you are old and learned enough; you have some other reason; if yet we call you into a position in the future you will serve your fatherland rather than foreigners.” Thereupon I took my child in a carrying-chair, with the cradle on my back, and went away. And one of the godmothers gave the little child a double ducat.

CHAPTER X IN ZURICH-IN BASEL

WE went away together; we had then twelve or four- teen gold pieces, some household goods, and the child, which I carried, and the mother followed along behind as a cow a little calf. We came to Zurich to Father Myconius. Before this I had made known to them there by letter, through Dr. Oporinus Henricus, de- ceased, whom they called Billing, the stepson of the mayor in the suburb of Åschen, called “Zum Hirsch- en,” that they should assist me perhaps to some small service. Then we tied our household goods and cloth- ing together in a bundle and sent it to Bern, and from there to Basel. But when I went away to Valais I had had a good school companion in Valais called Thomas Koran, who carried my goods and my books from Zurich to Valais. When I went away again many people were displeased, especially my sister; every one thought that my wife led me again out of the country. They did her an injustice; for she would have dwelt in that country willingly enough. But the priests were willing for me to leave. From Zurich we went to Basel. I carried the child, which was not yet six months old. There went with us a student, who helped the mother carry the goods. And when we looked around for an inn, and could scarcely find one, we took at last a little house, at St. Ulrich, which was called “at the Lion’s Head.” Dr. Oporinus was there in the great courtyard at the Bishop's mansion, where afterward Frau von Scho- nau was, and was at that time school-master at the castle. Then I became dispenser for Dr. Opo- rinus, through the claims of pious people, and the Sir Deputies gave me a salary of one hundred mark. They said they had never given so much to any one before. Out of that I must give twenty-five mark for house rent, and that was at that time very dear; for one gave a fourth of corn for fifteen mark and a measure of wine for eight raps. But the scarcity did not continue. I went to the market and bought a little cask of wine; I think it was an Ahm. I carried it home on my shoulder. Then I and my wife drank wine with much wrangling. For at first we had no drink- ing vessel, only a narrow-necked bottle. We went with the bottle into the cellar. Thereupon we argued with one another. I said: “You drink, you must nourish the babe.” Then my wife said: “You drink, you must study, and have a hard time in the school.” Afterward my good friend, Henry Billing, bought us a glass; it was shaped like a boot; with this we went into the cellar when we had been in the bath; in this we put a little more than in the bottle. The little cask lasted a long time. When it was empty, Henry Billing bought us another. I had to pay him for that when I angered him, when I no more wished to remain as as- sistant, and went away to Pruntrut. I went to the inn and bought a little kettle and a little water-kettle, both of which had holes. I also bought a chair. At that time I also had bought a good bed in the Åschen suburb for twelve and a half mark; we had not much house furniture besides. God be praised, however poor we had been at first, I no more remember that after we had begun to keep house that we ever ate without bread and wine. I studied industriously, arose early, and went to bed late. So that I have often had a headache, and had such a terrible dizziness that I often have had to hold myself up by the benches. The physician would gladly have helped me with blood-letting and mixed drugs for the stomach, but all was in vain.

CHAPTER XI WITH THE DOCTOR IN PRUNTRUT-DEATH OF THE LITTLE CHILD AND OF THE DOCTOR

AT this time there came a famous doctor there called John Epiphanius, who was the physician of the Grand Duke of Bavaria, a Venetian. When at Munich some citizens had eaten meat on a day when it was prohib- ited, and he with them, and they all were forced to run away. They were learned men, and thought that no one would do anything with them. The duke caused them to be beheaded. But Epiphanius ran away with his wife, whom he had married in Munich, and came to Zurich. There I became acquainted with him. When he came to Basel I asked him also for counsel concerning the dizziness. He examined me, and won- dered whence I had the dizziness. Soon he said: “If you were with me I would soon drive it away from you; ” for he thought that I ate not the best things or not enough; also that I studied too much and slept too little. Then I and my wife agreed, if they would re- ceive us as servants, then we would go to him. He went to Pruntrut and became the physician of the Bishop, Mr. Philip von Gundolzheim. Then I gave up the assistantship, and went with my wife and child to Pruntrut. Then the deputy was not well pleased with me and also my best friends, Dr. Oporinus and Henry Billing, the mayor's stepson. But I had especial de- sire for the medicine, with which the doctor had prom- ised to help me. Again I took the child on my back and went away. I left my household goods at Basel. Now when I came to him I said: “Doctor, now I am with you, help me against this dizziness.” Then he turned to my wife and said: “There is your physi- cian” and said: “Go early to bed when you think that no one else will knock, and sleep in the morning as long as you think that no one comes and knocks.” Which, however, my wife did not do; for she rose up early, looked after the child and the other affairs that belonged to her service and housekeeping. But I did not sleep too long, but more than I had been accus- tomed to hitherto. When I then arose, she was accus- tomed to cook for me a good broth. That also the doc- tor had commanded her. When I now had assumed this manner of living, I can say with truth that after three days I did not have the dizziness any more, but it left me entirely. And since then I have had no more trouble from the dizziness, except when I forgot myself occasionally to be with too little sleep or too long fast- ing. This art, which is so easily practised, I have taught very many who have complained of the dizzi- ness, and have helped them; for example, Mr. My- conius, Dr. Cellarius, and some others, who have thanked me for it; for it has helped them. When now we had been there twelve weeks and our little child on one evening had learned to go five little steps, the pestilence attacked it, and it died on the third day. And when the spasms had also attacked it, so that we must see it in the greatest pain, we wept, when it died, from sorrow and also from joy, that it has escaped from the suffering. Then the mother made for it a pretty wreath, and the school-master at Pruntrut buried it behind St. Michael’s.

When now we were both sad, and my wife was no more happy as before, and did not want to sing, the master said: “Your wife is no more joyous, and my wife fears that because she is so sad that the pestilence, which then prevailed in Pruntrut, will attack my wife or yours. I advise you to take her away.” I did so, took her to Zurich, and spent on the way not more than five bats. But I went again back to Pruntrut, and came on a Sunday evening again to the master, who sat alone by a table, and was full to suffocation with wine and said: “O Thomas, you have done wrong that you have taken Ann away (and yet he had told me to); as soon as you went away the pestilence attacked my wife, she lies above and has a great ulcer. Now the mas- ter was very much afraid, so that he drank himself full all day, so that he would think about it so much the less. He was even before that for the most part drunk. For when we ate at the castle and had drunk enough, then the steward led him as he went away to the cellar: the Bishop had commanded it. There he drank yet more wine. When we then came home, the first thing he sent after more wine; for he had none in the cellar, and he often sat in the garden in his shirt-sleeves until after midnight and drank.

On Monday, as I had returned on Sunday, the pes- tilence also attacked him. He said to me: “We will go across the field.” As we came to the city gate he said: “We will go to Delsberg,” for the Bishop had fled there from the pestilence. We went the same day to the village next to Delsberg, it is a mile or an half from Pruntrut. We remained there over night; he would eat nothing. He was very sick. He did not tell his wife that he wished to go away, and I also did not know it, until we came outside of the city gate. On the next day we rented a horse, and on the road be- tween Pruntrut and Delsberg he fell from the horse; for he was a large, heavy man and sick. At the vil- lage next to Delsberg he sent the horse back again and walked as far as the gate. Then they would not let him in until he sent to the Bishop, telling him that he was there. Then the Bishop commanded that they should let him in. We went to the Bishop’s house, they bid us welcome, and placed him by the Bishop's side for supper. But he ate only a little that night. The Bishop asked: “Doctor, how is it that you are not so cheerful as usual?” He answered: “It was so hot yesterday on the street, I had drunk and it made me sick.” When we wished to retire, the Bishop asked him whether he would accompany him on a hunt in the morning. The doctor answered: “Yes, sir; if I am better, as I hope.” Thereupon they conducted us to a great room, where the master slept in one bed, but I in another one. In the night he was very sick and vomited. They had placed for us on a table two great beakers, one with wine and the other with water. In the morning the doctor arose in a most miserable con- dition. I washed the bedding as well as possible with wine and water, so that they would not see it so. The Bishop rode to the hunt and came home early. When he dismounted, he called to me and said: “Tell me, Thomas, did your child die at Pruntrut, and is the doc- tor's wife sick of the pestilence?” (He had heard this while on the hunt.) I said: “Yes, worthy master.” “Why has the doctor come to me. Tell me, has he also the plague?” I said: “I know not; he has not told me.” “Then do this one thing,” he said, “and take your master quickly and immediately away from the castle.” Then I went around the little city. No one wished to receive him, and asked me what kind of a sickness my master had. I said, as he also had told the Bishop, that he had drunk too much in the heat, and had be- come sick. There was an innkeeper, I think at the White Cross, who told me that I could bring him. She bedded him clean and properly, as was due to such a man. Then the master said to me: “Thomas, go to my wife and say, if she wishes to see me alive, then she must come quickly.” When I came to the wife in Pruntrut and announced it, she was very angry. “The ras- cal,” she said, “he does as all Italians. He ran away from me in my need; neither will I go, nor can I go, nor do I want to go; may it go with him as God wills.” I said: “Woman, I believe that he will die; then you are here and in Basel heavily in debt, and they will take from you everything that you have. Give me what is the most valuable to you, then I will carry it to Basel, and deliver it to you, if he dies.” She gave me the mas- ter’s experiment book, which he at all times valued most highly, and three shirts, which were very fine, also a pure silver spoon, handkerchiefs, and I know not what besides. The book was the most valuable to me, for I intended to copy it. With these things I went back again to Delsberg. In the meantime the Bishop had sent him away with a horse and a servant to Munster, and no one would let me in. Then I put the household goods in the little guardhouse of the gate-keeper at the Basel side and went to Munster. There I found him very sick, and he had again on the way fallen from the horse. I announced to him what I had performed. Thither when it became night, the landlord came, who, as I think, had been in Delsberg and had heard all things, and said to the landlady: “Whom have you for guests?” When he heard he be- came terribly angry, swore evilly, and said to me, because I was his servant, that I should take him out of the house or he would throw us both down the steps. Then I said: “If you throw him down, then will he die so much the sooner, and you will be guilty of his death.” Thereupon he left us there for the night. And since there were no more papists there, there came a preacher from another village, who was to preach on the morrow in Munster. He slept in the inn in our room; he comforted the master in a Christian manner. I asked the preacher, for God’s sake, that he should assemble the people after the sermon and exhort them, for God’s sake, to consent to give him a house for recompense, even if it was empty; yes, even a pig's sty, that he might have some place where he might die. All this was refused him. After the luncheon, I went almost from one house to another, asked only for a little stall, where he could die, for I knew well, he would not live long. At last I found a woman. The woman wept, she so pitied the gentleman, for whom I had asked the people in such a friendly manner, and besides I had promised to give reward enough. She said to me: “Go in, my good friend, and bring the gentleman to me.” The woman was a native of Basel. Then I went in, hired a woman who was to help me carry him out of the inn, perhaps quite a stone's throw away. I must give her half a guilder. As we carried him to the house the peasants stood on both sides and looked at us. To them I spoke extremely severely, and re- proached them for their godless heart and no faith. When I had brought him to the house, the woman had prepared a chair, wherein we sat him before the door, so that he slept a little. I gave him a little broth, per- haps two spoons full. Then the woman kissed him and wept out of pity; for he was a fine, large man, well dressed. Then we led him into a little room, wherein there was a good bed prepared. Then she gave him broth again, and kissed him again, weeping. And though she said we will let him sleep, I remained with him. Then he said to me: “Abil Abil Go away, go away to Basel !” When I would not do it, he became angry and ordered me that I should go away. Then I feared he would be so angry that convulsions would attack him. Then he drew the cord from his neck, whereon were two or three rings, a golden toothpick, and other things, which one gathers together and strings, and also drew off a thumb ring with a seal. He gave all these to me, that I should carry them to Basel, give them to his wife, and go soon, for he feared that they would detain me, and that these would be taken from the woman. I know not what I pretended to the woman, but took my departure, and said I would soon come back again. He had with him clothing, so that his expenses would be well repaid to her. I went to Delsberg, took the stuff from the gate- keeper, and went quickly away, for I regretted only on account of the book if I should be arrested; for I had it in mind to copy it. I came thus on the next day to Basel to Oporinus. He advised me that I should go to Zurich with the things. Then I heard here that he had died on the very day that I had gone away from him. Epiphanius was buried at Munster with the honours of a doctor. God had indeed taken away from the man all worldly help, so that he had with him neither baths nor medicines, though he had plenty of these at Pruntrut. For there he had for himself an apothecary shop. So he often sent me to Basel to procure all sorts of things. When now the debtors—namely, Kunz “Zum Storchen,” Niclaus the Apothecary, and the old Rei- men—knew that he was dead, and that I was from there with some things; also that he had had a servant be- fore me, who said: “The doctor had a book that was worth sixty crowns”; they caused the report to be spread that I had run away as a rascal. This Dr. Oporinus wrote to me. Then I took all the things and brought them again and let myself be seen; but then no one would call me a knave, but in haste caused me to be served with an attachment, and said that I should give them what I had. I said: “The master was indebted to me some shillings and six florins; if you give me this, and it is acknowledged, then I will give it, other- wise not.” Then the mayor, “Zum Hirschen,” advised my attorney that he should say I had the assured pledge they should pay me. The case lasted about six weeks, for they thought that I could not wait until the end, and that I would rather give them all things out of hand.

In the meantime I and Oporinus copied off each in turn a half page of the book, and intended then to copy from each other, which afterward was done. Thus we succeeded in copying the book. When now they paid me, the judgment was pronounced that I should surrender all things. This I did and went again back to Zurich. The wife of the doctor, recov- ered again, came to me a tolerably long time there- after to Basel, and asked me, since all things had been taken from her, and I perhaps in that time had copied the book, that I should not begrudge her just the rem- edy of purgation of the currants; therewith she knew how to support herself. But where she went then I do not know. She was very pretty.

CHAPTER XII ZURICH WAR, OCTOBER, 1531

Not long thereafter the Zurichers and the Five Places went against one another again. Then things went badly again; for many honest, noble men per- ished; among others also Zwingli. When the battle had been fought and the clamour came back to Zurich, they rang the alarm with the great Cathedral bell. It was just at the time when the lights were being lit. Then many people ran out of the city to the bridge over the Syll under the Albis. I caught up a halberd and a sword in the house of Myconius and ran out also with the others. But when we had gone out quite a distance, then met us what caused me to wish that I had remained in the city. For some came who had only one hand, some held their head between their hands, mournfully wounded and bloody. One met us also whose intestines were hanging out, so that he car- ried them in his hands; and people went with them who lighted the way; for it was dark. When we came to the bridge, they permitted every man to go over the bridge, but they would allow no man to come back towards Zurich. For men stood on the bridge with weapons to defend it. I believe that otherwise the majority would have fled to the city. Then people ad- monished one another that they should not despair. There was one out of the Zurich district, who was a brave fellow, spoke with a loud voice, so that every one could hear him, and called to their minds how it very often went badly in the beginning and thereafter well. He counselled that in the night the people should go over the Albis, so that they could surprise the enemy when they came in the morning. When we came there no captain was to be found, for they were all shot in the night. It was very cold, for in the morning a great frost fell. Then we made fires. I also sat thus by a fire, drew off my shoes, so that I might warm myself thoroughly. At my side was also a Fuchsberger. He was at that time the trumpeter in Zurich; he had neither shoes nor cap, and also no more a sword. And as we sat thus the alarm was sounded, so that they might see how the people would behave. And as I drew on my shoes the trumpeter seized my halberd, and wished to stand with it in rank and file. Then I said to him: “Hold, companion, leave me my weapons!” Then he gave it back to me again and said: “Odds, five wounds already! They have treated me so evilly in the battle to-night, they must kill me completely to- day.” Then he seized a great hedge pole and placed himself in the ranks directly before me. Then I thought: “Alas, here is such a fine man, and he stands so defenseless.” And I regretted immediately that I had not let him have my halberd. Then I had already become resigned and thought, “Now it must be.” And' was not at all terrified, and thought I would defend myself bravely with the halberd, and if I were deprived of the halberd then I would also defend myself bravely with the sword.

But when one saw that the enemy was not at hand, then I was much rejoiced, as many others also. For I knew many who went about arrogantly in Zurich, but trembled then like an aspen leaf. Then I heard of a brave man who stood on a high place and cried aloud: “Where are our leaders? Oh, heavens, is there no one here to counsel us how we should act?” And though some thousands were there assembled no one knew how it would have gone if the enemy had come. When, as I remember, it was almost nine o'clock in the morning, the first leader, Lavater, was seen below, coming hither over a path; he had disgraced himself in the flight. The other leader, William “ of the Red House,” was killed. The third, George Goldlin, had so conducted himself that later he was convicted in Zurich of having betrayed the Zurichers. What there was done further I know not. For as I was not provided as many others, I had nothing to eat, and went back again to Zurich. Then my pre- ceptor Myconius asked me: “How has it gone? Is Mr. Ulrich killed?” When I answered, “Yes, alas!” he said with sorrowful heart, “then must God comfort me ! Now I can no longer live in Zurich !” For Zwingli and Myconius had been for many years very good friends. After they had given me to eat, we went with one another out into a room. Myconius said: “Where will I go now? I can stay here no more.” Some days thereafter I learned that the preacher at St. Alban in Basel had been killed as he was climb- ing over the mountains. When Myconius said again, “Where shall I go?” I said: “Go to Basel and be- come a preacher.” He said: “What preacher will give way to me and let me have his place.” I related to him how one called Hieronymus Bodan, preacher at St. Alban—was dead. I believed that he would be received there. Then nothing further was said, and also no order was given me by Myconius. When peace was made there came about four hundred from the province of Schwitz, from Lachen, and other places around who wished to spend the night in the city. Then there was a great running to and fro of burghers who thought that they would cause a night of murder; for traitors were only too numerous in the city who could specify who should be murdered. Then the gates were closed and the whole Rennway became full of people. The traitorous Chlotzascher, who had become city mayor in place of Lavater, rode out to the Syll to the Switzers and gave them lodging. He broke open the door of those who were not willing to admit them and was altogether friendly with them. When now every one had gone home from the Rennway, Dr. Jacob Ammianus, who now for a long time had been professor, came to Myconius and said to him: “Mr. Myconius, I do not want you to remain in your house to-night. No one knows what will happen. They will certainly not spare you. Come with me!” There were some of his pupils who accompanied him to the house of Dr. Ammianus, and I with them. Then Myconius said: “Thomas, sleep to-night with me.” We lay in one bed, and each of us had a halberd beside himself in the bed. On the following day the Swiss went home over the Zurich Lake.

CHAPTER XIII TO BASEL–MYCONIUS ALSO GOES THITHER

WHEN now peace had come, and I had lost much time, I wished to go again back to Basel to the stud- ies. I studied in the college, and lay on my bed, and went to the Pilgrim’s Staff for meals. I have often eaten there for three pfennigs. One can well imagine how much I atel In time I told to Henry Billing, the burgomaster's son, that I had heard from Myconius that he no longer wished to stay in Zurich, since Mr. Ulrich was dead. He said: “Do you think he could be persuaded to come to us?” I told him what I had spoken to him concerning the position of preacher at St. Alban. He told it to the burgomaster, his father. He told it to the deputies; they sent for me in the Augustine's Cloister. When now they had heard me, they sent me to Zurich, and I brought Myconius away with me. But I had to bear the expense of it myself. As we went on, four fellows on horseback appeared in a field beyond Mumpf, and because they were not in the confederacy Myconius said: “How would it be if they caught us and led us to Ensisheim.” I said, as they now came up to us, “Fear not, they are from Basel.” For it was Squire Wolfgang von Landenberg, Squire Offenberg, the Landenberg's son, and a knight. When they came up I said: “I know that they are from Basel, for I have often seen them at the preaching of Ocolampadius.” They put up at Mumpf at the “Bell” as night fell. We also put up there. When we came into the room Squire Wolfgang asked: “Whence do you come?” Myconius said: “From Zurich.” Then the squire asked: “What do they say in Zurich?” Myconius answered: “People are mournful because Mr. Ulrich Zwingli is dead.” Squire Wolfgang asked: “Who are you?” Myconius answered: “I am Oswald Myconius, and am the school-master in Zurich at Our Lady’s Cathedral.” Then Myconius also asked: “Who are you?” He said: “I am Wolf von Landenburg.” After a while Myconius took me by the coat, led me out, and said: “I see now clearly how industriously you have gone to church in Basel. I believe the nobleman has not very often pressed the seats in the church.” For Myconius had heard much said of him. When now we sat at the table Squire Eglin also came in the room and the other two. They sat at the top of the table and began to drink. Then the knight brought a beaker of liquor to Myconius. Myconius took a little drink out of the beaker which they had sent him. Then the knight said: “O sir, you must drink more!” And when he urged him to it forcibly, then Myconius be- came angry and said: “Fellow, I could drink before you could have carried a little chip,” and other words. Squire Eglin heard this and asked: “What is it?” Myconius said: “He presumes to force me to drink.” Then was Squire Eglin fearfully angry at the knight, so that we thought he would strike him, and spoke to him very evilly: “You villain, would you force an old man to drink?” And asked My- conius: “Dear sir, who are you?” Myconius said: “I am called Oswald Myconius.” The squire said: “Have you not once been school-master at St. Peter's in Basel?” He said: “Yes.” The squire said: “Dear sir, you have been my teacher also. If I had followed you, then I would have been an honourable man. I know almost nothing as I am.” Then they went on with their drinking—that is, the four. When Squire Wolf- gang's son was drunk he lay partially down, with his elbows on the table. Then the squire, his father, began to chide him mournfully, as though he had com- mitted a terrible vice. When he had supped, I and Myconius went to bed, but they really began to take a sleeping-cup; they sang and shouted in a horrible man- ner. Afterward we discovered that they had indeed been fourteen days in Zurich, that they had with one another celebrated the funeral of Zwingli and others who were killed with those who had found more joy than sorrow therein. When we on the morrow went over Melifeld Myconius said to me: “How did the behaviour of the nobility yesterday please you?

To fill one another full to suffocation is no shame, but to lean a little bit with one’s elbows on the table that is such a shame and deserved curses!” After we came to Basel, Myconius stopped with Oporinus, but I went to the college. After some days Myconius was to make the “Six”—or the council ser- mon. I know not whether one had asked him or not. I came to him. There he lay yet. I said to him: “Father, get up, you must preach.” He said: “What, must I preach?” And he rose up quickly and said to me: “What shall I preach? Tell me.” I said: “I know not.” He said: “I wish to know from you!” Then I said: “Explain to us, whence and why, the misfortune has come which now has befallen us.” He said: “Write it for me on a little piece of paper!” That I did and gave him my Testament, wherein he laid the little piece of paper, went out to the chapel, treated of the question before learned people, who had come thither to hear him, as they would one who was preaching for the first time. Thereupon they won- dered, so that I have heard say after the sermon, among others Dr. Sulterus to Dr. Simon Grynaus, who was at that time a student, “O Simon, let us pray God, that this man remain here, for he can teach.” Then was he chosen at St. Albans. Then I accom- panied him again back to Zurich, and went again to Basel to my studies. But he, when he was dismissed in honour, came with his wife to Basel and my wife came with him. He began to preach at St. Albans. So many people went to hear him that it was con- cluded to take him in Dr. Ocolampadius's place. Until this time Mr. Thomas Gyrenfalk had adminis- tered the office.

CHAPTER XIV PROFESSOR IN THE PEDAGOGIUM-READER—CALL TO SITTEN-JOURNEY THROUGH SWITZERLAND —BATH CURE

THEREUPON I took Greek lectures in the Pedagogium and read the grammar of Caporinus and dialogues of Lucian. But Oporinus was appointed that he should read the poets. But not long thereafter a pestilence broke out, and Jacob Ruberus, reader to Dr. Hervagius, and the most loved companion of Oporinus and myself, died. Then Dr. Sulterus came for a while in his place in service to Dr. Hervagius. But when he saw that this employment rather hindered than assisted him in his studies, he advised me that I should accept it. I feared the business was too difficult for me, but Dr. Hervagius would not desist until I had accepted it. I carried this on for four years with the greatest labour and care.

Thereafter it happened that in the council at Sitten at Christmas they decided to appoint me as school- master, and the head councillor, Simon Alben, was commanded to write to me and bid me come. This was delayed until Shrove Tuesday, also because I was to overlook the printing-press for Hervagius, while he was at the fair at Frankfort. There was a little provost in another college by the name of Chris- tian Herbort, who had formerly been in Basel, then later had gone to Freiburg, there he pretended he would no longer be in Basel on account of the heresy; thereafter he came again to Basel. There they would not receive him unless he swore an oath that he was of our religion. This he swore, and said he would not re- main at Freiburg in the idolatry. The same had table companions from Valais, one of whom had heard how they sought after me. Then he went away to Mitte- fasten, came to the Bishop, announced to him, but with lies, that I would not come, for I had said I did not wish to go into the idolatrous place; that I ate meat on the forbidden days, and other things more. Then the Bishop believed it willingly. For before this I was already suspected by him on account of religion. Then the little man was accepted. When he came again to Basel, I went to him in the college, asked him where he had been. He said: “In Valais.” I said: “What have you done there?” He had had some business, he said. Then I said: “You have had business as a knave and a rascal, as you are 1 You have lied about me. But I will also go thither, and if I hear that you have lied about me, then I will prepare a good time for you and show that you are a mameluke.” I went thither, for I had especial business in my home. When I came to Wisp the Bishop was just there and was confirming. Captain Simon was also there; he had a house there. I went to him. He was at first very much dissatisfied that I had not come in time; they had already chosen another, and showed to me with what tricks he had deceived the Bishop; “and only yesterday he sent a messenger here and wrote that you would come, but that one should not believe your word.” This the Bishop had told him. Now, therefore, said the councillor, the priests have chosen a school-master themselves, now let them have him. I would have gone willingly to the Bishop, but it was in vain until he came to Gasen. Then he permitted me to be admitted, and when he saw me he said: “Thomas, while Esau was on the hunt Jacob took the blessing away from him.” I said: “But has your princely grace only one blessing.” Then he bid me welcome, and said they had said to him that I would not come. I was suspected on account of the faith, for at Basel I had eaten meat at all times on forbidden days, and other things as well. Then I said: “Yes, worthy sir, and he that has said this of me has also many times eaten meat on such days.” That is in- deed true; for we both very often with Dr. Paul Phrygionus have eaten with one another when the doc- tor invited me and the little man came to sponge. At this speech there were present three canons and the land councillor, Antonius Venetz; and they gave me to understand, since the little man had this character, they would let him go and take me. But I said: “No ; he would sit down between two stools; I had already had a good place, and so forth.” I went again to Basel.

Before this time, it had once happened, when I had no position, that my true and dear companion, Henry Billing, asked me that I should make a journey with him within the confederacy, and said he would then go with me to Valais. Thus we went first to Schaffhausen, Constance, thereafter to Linden; there he had business. From there to St. Gall, Toggenburg, Rapperswyl, to Zug, Schwitz, to Uri. They did us all honour, because they heard that we were from Basel. Thence we went in the Ursern Valley to Realp. But when Henry saw the mountain, he was so afraid in the night that he was doubtful whether he wished to go over the mountain on the morrow; he was timid, so that the landlady said: “If all from Basel are so timid, they will not conquer those of Valais. I am a poor, weak woman, or I would take the child”—this she had with her—“ by the hand to-morrow and cross over.” Henry did not sleep well that night. We em- ployed a strong Alpine guide, who should go with us to show us the way; he took a staff over his shoulder, went ahead in the snow and sang, so that it echoed in the mountains. He slipped a little and fell in a low place; for it was yet tolerably dark and before day. When Henry saw him fall he would not go ahead one step and said to me: “You go to Valais, I will go back to Basel.” But I would not go from him in the wilderness, but accompanied him back again. Then I was so gloomy that we did not speak much with one another for a day. We came again to Uri and then on the Lake. Then came a wind, so that Henry was very much terrified, and said to the boatman: “Row to the land, I will not travel farther.” He said: “There is no danger.” But he behaved so troublesomely that he had to row to the land not far from the place where William Tell sprang out of the boat. We came to a little village. At night when we wished to go to bed we had to lie in the straw. In the morning we went to Beckenreid, thence to Unterwalden, thence over the Brunig to Hasli. Then I said: “Now you have a good road to Thun, then to Bern, and then to Basel.” Then we parted, and I went over the Grimsel mountain to Valais.

Captain Simon who was favourable to me was there. He was master of colonies, had read in the Academy of Basel the Offices of Cicero, thereafter at Rome had for ten years conducted affairs before the pope for Georgius of “auf der Flue,” and on account of the province against Cardinal Matthew Schinner. He was well trained in the Latin language. He said to me: “I wish to undertake a journey to the Brieger baths for the gout; bathe with me, and I will pay for the journey.” Then I journeyed with him, for the bath is not a half-mile from Wisp. The baths affected him, so that some of us had to carry him to the bath, he bathed two hours, and then came away on two crutches. There came thither also the Duke of Milan, captain of the mercenary guards; he had spent nine hundred ducats on physicians (for his thigh), and nothing helped him. He bathed there also. His thigh was cured in three days, and so remained. I have seen this and other things which were wonderful to hear. I had a very good journey to the baths, only that the eating did not please me, so that I could eat almost none of the rye bread and drink no wine, for it was too strong for me. I complained to the landlord. He was called Captain Peter Owling, a very fine man; he had also studied well in Milan. I said to him, “Oh, that you had sour wine!” He ordered me wine from Morill; it was terribly sour, for it is there very wild, and is the highest wine that grows in the land. When the wine came he said: “Platter, I wish to give you the wine.” There were three hundred litres. He gave me a beautiful crystal glass which would hold quite a quantity. With this I went to the cellar and took the greatest drink that I, I believe, have taken in my whole life; for I had had for a long time the greatest thirst, and had a bad breaking out; I drank nothing except warm spring water. When I had taken the drink I cared for the wine no more, and came then again to the eating and drinking. To Captain Simon very many things were given at the bath; among other things more than seventy pheasants were given to him; I brought some feathers from them to Basel. As I had sent no message and had been away nine weeks they said I was certainly killed on the mountains.

CHAPTER XV THE PRINTER AND BASEL BURGHER

BUT now when the visit to the baths was over I went again to Basel and became first corrector to Hervagius, as hitherto has been stated, similarly also professor in the Pedagogium. But when I saw how Hervagius and other printers had a good business, and with little work made good profit, I thought: “I should like also to become a printerl” So also thought Dr. Oporinus, who also assisted much in the publishing house. There was also a very good type-setter of the guild “at the bench,” Balthasar Ruch, who had a good disposition and who was very ambitious, who was a good com- panion of Oporinus and myself. Our plan was well arranged, but nowhere any money. There was Ru- precht Winter, the brother-in-law of Oporinus, who had a wife, who would gladly have been a publisher's wife, for she saw the printer’s women live in such splendour, for which she was well fitted; for she had enough property; of spirit only too much. She coun- selled her husband, Ruprecht, that he should become a printer with his brother-in-law Oporinus. Then we four became partners: Oporinus, Ruprecht, Balthasar, and I; we purchased the outfit of Mr. Andrew Cra- tander. For he and his son Polycarp had become book-dealers, because his wife, as she said, would no longer occupy herself with the daubing. We gave him eight hundred florins for the printing outfit, to be paid within a certain time.

At the time that I was proof-reader, my second child, little Margaret, was born. She was born in the house that for a long time was in the possession of the school-master of St. Peter's, and is even yet. The school-master at that time was Anthony Wild; he had been a monk. Then I moved to the next house. There was born another child, called Urseli. One day she would have fallen out of the window had not Max Wolf, who was a boarder and had the child by the window, caught her by her little feet. Thus we began the printing together. I became a burgher, and was incorporated in the guild “Of the Bears,” where Balthasar and Ruprecht had already been incorporated. But Oporinus belonged to his father's guild, “Zum Himmel,” for he himself was a “ famous painter. We immediately borrowed money, as it was necessary to the business. But Ruprecht pawned to-day the one, on the morrow another thing. Then I thought each of us should go alternately to each fair. However, it did not happen, but always two of us went to Frankfort, then the women desired that one should purchase much. They wished beautiful cushions and tin utensils. I bought iron utensils. We brought sometimes an entire barrelful of gifts, but little money. I thought this will not end well. We had also each week our support out of it, two florins to each one, except Ruprecht; for he did not work, except that he pawned things for money. As now that was not pleasing to me and I said: “We will ruin the man’; then Balthasar Ruch became hostile to me and thought to disgrace me. Once when it was near to the time of the fair, and we could not finish printing the work, unless we also printed on a holiday, then one Sunday we printed the whole day. Then we must give the journeymen to eat and also more wages. In the night, about eleven o’clock, I was correcting a proof; then Balthasar began to be out of sorts, at last also to curse, and said: “I scarcely know, you Walliser, what is the matter with you, whatever one does, it is never right.” He had been steward in the printing establishment, “Of the Bears” ; we had rented the house from Cratander. I gave him an answer to the evil words. Then he re- mained silent, seized a heavy pine board, came from behind, while I was correcting the proof, and wished to strike me with it on the head with both hands. Then I glanced thither and saw the blow, stood up and warded off the stroke with my arm. We came at one another with rushes and blows. He scratched me very badly on the face, and tried to gouge out an eye with his fingers. When I noticed this, I doubled my fist and struck him on the nose, so that he fell on his back, and lay there a good while, so that his wife stood over him and screamed: “Oh woe, you have killed my husband.” With that the journeymen printers who had just gone to bed rose up quickly and came down. He lay there yet, and my face was very bloody from the scratches. Soon thereafter he rose up and wished to come at me again. I said: “Let him come now, and I will give him a better one yet.” Then the print- ers pushed me out of the door. I went with a light home to the house behind the school-master’s house. My wife, when she saw me, cried out: “Oh, you have certainly fought one another.”

On the following day our partners came and were much displeased, as were also the journeymen, that we should be their masters and yet fight with one another. Then two of my partners, Balthasar and Oporinus, went to Frankfort. When he came back again he had yet a scar on the nose in the place between the eyes, which he carried for eight weeks, but I on the middle finger, on the knuckle also, had a scar for four weeks. When now they came again they were determined to fix me in the guild. Then God gave me my dear son Felix; I do not think that I could have had greater joy. Then Dr. Paul Phrygius, pastor of St. Peter’s, christened him; but Master Simon Grynaus and John Walterus, printers, were godfathers, and Mrs. Macha- rius Nussbaum, godmother. When Dr. Grynaus went with me out of the church he said to me: “You have properly called him Felix, for he will be a joy, or all my mind deceives me.” Now when I had been there a long time, the business pleased me the less the longer I stayed. For we yet continued to borrow and paid off nothing. We were now indebted almost two thousand guilders. Then I said: “I will no longer be in the partnership, we will completely ruin Ruprecht.” This did not please some of them, especially Ruch. But I desired one should take stock of all the books at Frankfort, then I would take stock of all the books at home. Likewise with what others were indebted to us and we to other people. Thus it came to pass. Then I found we were indebted over two thousand florins. Then we had books and obligations therefor, so that to each of us there be- longed yet one hundred florins. Then we divided the manuscripts and all the working materials. Then Ruprecht said: “Who now wishes to reserve his part, let him give me security, so that mine will be secured.” Then Balthasar gave Mr. Cratander as security, but Oporinus and Ruprecht remained partners; but I said: “If you will trust me, I will pay you honestly.” Ru- precht would not willingly do this. Then I did not wish to approach any one for security, and gave over everything to Ruprecht, also the one hundred florins, so that, however hereafter it might happen to him, I would not have a share in it. For at that time he could have come out of it without any disadvantage. For Bebelius wished to take all things together and cancel his mort- gage. But perhaps he was destined to be ruined, for it happened so hereafter. For a long time Oporinus and he printed with one another, and they also sepa- rated. Ruprecht went on alone, against my advice, until he had spent all; for he did not himself understand the trade. Balthasar also was ruined, so that they lost by him some thousand guilders. Oporinus held out for the longest time; but they at last lost much through him also. Almost all the three died in the dis- tress of debt. But I, since I had given up my part to Ruprecht—he left me an Italic writing and a few others—that I afterward paid off by printing. At that time there was a very fine craftsman in printing, Peter Schaffer, by whose family the printing establishment in Mainz was founded. He had type punches for almost all writings. He gave me the matrices for a very little money; some of these he ad- justed for me and cast for me; some Master Martin cast for me, some he, who was called Utz, an engraver, so that now I was quite well supplied with all styles of types and presses. Then some gentlemen gave me to print; as Mr. Wattenschnee, Frobenius, Episkopius, Her- vagius, Michael Isengrinius. From this contract I made some profit; I also received apprentices; I taught them myself with industry. That was profitable for me, for in a short time they set for me the daily task in Greek and Latin. I lived in a house on Eisengasse; there I had a shop, and also had books for sale. But I did not make much thereby, but got into debt. But I soon ceased to sell books, supported myself with the printing, contract work, and also my own work; there- with I went to Frankfort.

CHAPTER XVI DEBT—SICKNESS—PURCHASE OF HOUSES

THE dear old gentlemen, Conrad Rosch, now de- ceased, and Cratander, saw clearly that I would get myself heavily in debt, and that I was even already in debt. Mr. Conrad said: “Thomas, watch yourself, and give heed, that you shun the little creditors the most, for it is much easier to become indebted to one for a thousand guilders than for ten or twenty. For the little dogs always make such very great outcry that one can scarcely trust them. The large dogs one can much better keep silent.” But Cratander gave me the advice that among them to whom I was indebted I should always consider that one to be the best who applied to me the most frequently to pay. For these would be much more useful to me, and would hold me up; for the others, who demanded nothing of me, made me negligent. “They have harmed me most, who have loaned me the more, the longer I borrowed, so that I at last have come into the greatest debt. I little know how things will go after my death.” This he said to me on his deathbed, for he died soon thereafter. And if Bebelius and Frobenius had not done the best to con- duct his affairs, then would it have gone most evilly with his heirs.

While I was in this house I was sick unto death, lay fully eight weeks, and became indebted 1,400 guilders, when God raised me up again. I wished to take another house, for I desired to leave the book- seller's business, and hence I did not need the shop. Also my printing room was small and dark. There- upon I came in possession of the house wherein I am yet from Mr. John Kachtler, the secretary of the Cathedral. I had to pay sixteen florins yearly for the two houses. Yet he kept for himself a closet in Felix's room. Herein he kept his possessions. Here I first prepared a paper-printing establishment, so that I could print with three presses, and carry on printing for Dr. Hervagius, Frobenius, Isengrinius, and others, who gave to me; likewise for myself. Then I also had more than twenty boarders, so that I made much thereby and gradually paid off my debt. Immediately after I had bought the houses, I also made my well. Without the chimney this cost me 100 florins. For when I had been in the house two or three years, and had paid large rent and yet had no property, God gave me the idea I should buy the house. Also other “zum honest people—namely, the burgermeister, Hirschen,” also Mr. Macharius Nuszbaum counselled me. Both directed me that I should go to Freiburg to Kachtler, and request him that he should come to Schlingen. Then they would in person ride after me to Schlingen, and help me make the purchase. But when I came to Freiburg to Kachtler, and told it to him, he said he would permit no man on that account to ride thither, but would close the sale with me, so that he himself would not blush, but whoever would hear of it would say it was a good sale; and he would give me an entire year for the time of payment; but he wished no right of redemption. He sold me the two houses, the Weissenburg and the next one, for 750 flor- ins; then I was to ask for some house furniture, which he yet had in the house. Of these, I wished some pieces, which he thought were worth 50 florins. But the sale of the mentioned pieces and the two houses was made for 750 florins. Then he asked: “How much I would give of ready money.” I answered: “Nothing; I wished to pay interest.” He asked what I would de- posit, and whom I would give as security. I said: “I will give you no securities, for I will afflict no one there- with, but I will mortgage to you the house and what I have therein, my household furniture and printing establishment.” He said: “Whoever loans money on a house or accepts it as a mortgage, lends on a tub of ashes.” Then I said: “Trust me, and I will act hon- estly towards you.” He believed me; for I think the Father in Heaven, who was on my side, persuaded him; for otherwise he scarcely would have trusted me without securities. Then it was his opinion that I should pay interest on the 500 florins, each year 25 florins, the re- maining 250 florins I should pay as follows: The first year, with the interest, 150 florins; the following year, with the interest, 100 florins. That was also deter- mined upon, and I gave the wife a gold guilder. When I showed my good patrons in Basel the sale, they were astonished over the bargain, and said I should write him that I would annul the redemption, and thus close the sale. I think, Kachtler thought that I would pay much of the sum and then get stuck, so that I could not pay any more, and the house would come back to him, as it had also occurred pre- viously with another house, which he had sold, and after the greater part was paid, the purchaser was killed, and the house came back to him again. The third house he did not wish to sell at first, but kept it for himself, so that, if the canons came back again, he would have one house of his own. But before the year was over he wrote to me that I should also buy the third house from him, on account of the space before the houses. He wished to sell it, for he did not think that he would come back again to Basel; perhaps one might buy it who would occupy the place with a stable or something else that would be a nuisance to me. Therefore, since he had trusted me with the two houses, he would also trust me with the third, and sell the same for 200 florins in gold. I asked the burgomaster for advice. He said: “Buy it; God, who will help you pay for the two, will also help you pay for the third.” But, in regard to the gold guilders, I should write to him that I did not agree in regard to them; that he should let me have it for 200 in small coin. For some time he refused this through letters; at last he wished me for- tune therewith, and allowed it to me for 200 florins, on this account, so that if the houses should come back to him again, they would not be separated. Therefore I was now indebted to him 950 florins, and was obliged to pay interest to him on 500 florins; the re- maining to be paid the first year 200 florins, the next 200 florins, the third 50 florins, every year with the interest on 500 florins. And if I should desire to re- deem it, I should pay 200 florins at a time. Therefore I paid him the 450 florins in the three years as had been agreed upon. And when I brought to him at the time of redemption the first 200 florins, I asked that hereafter, instead of that, he would take for each further year 100 florins, together with the interest, as it was too difficult for me to give 200 florins. He would not do this. I then went home again in anger, and looked after money, that I might pay in the next year 300 florins, and really paid him all in five years. This was arranged for the most part through Spirer, who exe- cuted the sale for me, but I always paid the money there to Zacheus, but Kachtler gave me a receipt. He has often praised me, as I have been told, and said he had never had a better debtor than me, and the houses belonged to me by right. For Squire Petteman von Offenburg had desired to purchase them, and to give 600 florins in cash; yet he would rather let me have them. Thereafter I also perceived that I had made no bad purchase, for our mint-master said: “Had he known that the houses had been for sale, then they would not have become mine; he would give me 1,200 florins for the one.” Therefore I must justly praise God, and give him the honour before all, and after- ward the good people, who have helped me therewith and have counselled me.

Not long thereafter a pestilence broke out, and be- cause I had many table boarders the deputies desired not that I should send them from me, but that I should retreat with them to Liestal and write thither that they should assist me in finding a dwelling. Then Uli Wantz received me, and there were of us, I and the boarders, about thirty-five. They gave me here some rooms and some furniture. I gave him two and a half mark each week for house-rent. After sixteen weeks 1 went again into the city, began to carry on my business and to print. My dear child, little Margaret, died of the pestilence, of whom they said, she was a very pretty child; she was, as I remember, about six years old.

It had even before that come to pass when Oporinus and I were professors, and the city clerk, at that time councillor, had asked me in his house how it yet hap- pened that the University did not prosper—after many words I said: “It seems to me the professors are far too many, for there are often almost more professors than students. If there were four famous men, which one could easily find, for at that time there was much unrest in Germany, which one ought to pay well, and then four more which could be paid less; that would be eight persons. If each one read each day one lec- ture with industry, or if one would take yet fewer and each read every day two lectures, then would students enough come thither.” Then he said: “But what would we do with fellow townsmen?” Then I said: “If he desired to look at that, and not to care much more for the youth, then I would counsel him no more. I am also of the opinion at all times that one should favour the people of Basel, if one finds them; if not, one should take the best, so that the youth will be helped.”

I know not what or where this was decided, because Oporinus and I had undertaken the printing business, we should either give it up and apply ourselves to the profession alone; if not, then we should give up the profession; this happened. For we had gone so far in the business that we could not leave off from the print- ing. Then they gave us a furlough, and began with us to do what I had counselled; but that they looked around for other people, I have not yet seen. After I had purchased the houses, and had paid for them, I went on with the printing and had a bad time, also my wife and children, for the children often rubbed the paper so that their fingers bled. But it went well with me financially. For with the printing alone I was able to make each year 200 florins to im- prove my printing establishment and household furni- ture. Also I borrowed money and paid it, and always found people who would loan it to me. But when unrest, warlike activities, and even war arose in every land, printers became unwilling to print much, and carry the stock of books, and the journeymen were so un- prepared that I had almost an aversion to print more.

CHAPTER XVII RECTOR OF THE SCHOOL AT THE CASTLE, 1541

THUS the deputies, Dr. Grynaus, Mr. Yoder Brant, the mayor, and others often advised me that I should leave off from printing and become school-master. For they had had several school-masters in a few years, and the school “at the Castle * had almost come to an end. One day I came to Mr. Rudolph Fry, who was the head deputy and forester to the Castle, and asked him whether he would sell a parchment book; for I saw him sell these large, beautiful books, and indeed very cheap. Since I had continually many boarders, I had purchased the parchment willingly, to give to them, wherewith to bind little books. He said there was no more to sell. Among other things he asked me again if I would cease to print. I said it had begun to be almost disagreeable to me. He said: “Dear sir, be- come a school-master. Thereby you will do my master a service, will serve God and the world.” Then he re- lated it to our gracious masters. They sent the city clerk to me, also Dr. Grynaus. Dr. Grynaus said to me: “Become a school-master, there is no more god- like office. There is nothing I would rather be, if only

I did not have to repeat things.” They incited Dr. Myconius also, for they thought that I could not refuse him. Myconius told me how they had advised with him on my account. I asked him what he advised. He said: “I would prefer you to any one else in the city. But I will not advise you at all; you will not be able to reconcile yourself with the University; I know you, you will desire to follow your own ideas. They will not permit that.” They counselled with me so much that I agreed. Then our deputies invited me to the Council House; it was arranged with me. Then I de- sired first, if they desired to intrust the school to me, they must prepare and support it, similarly three as- sistants and a salary wherewith I could support myself; then I would accept it. If not, then I did not know how to direct a school with advantage and honour. This was all granted to me. The salary was difficult to arrange; I asked 200 florins, 100 for myself and 100 for the assistants. They promised this to me and asked me that I should not tell it to any one; for they had never given any one so much, and would never again give one so much. This was all agreed upon; the University was not consulted concerning it, which vexed them not a little. For they would have arranged otherwise with me, and especially would have inculcated that I should make myself subject to the University, do what they told me, adjust their regu- lations to the school, that I should read what they pre- scribed me, and above all, that I should become a mas- ter, and many other things that occurred to them just at that time.

After this I went away to Strassburg, wished to in- vestigate their order of studies and to confer with my brother Lithonius, who was preceptor of the third class, and to arrange as much as was appropriate for my school. Thereupon I returned, established my four classes; for before this all the pupils were in the lower room; up to this time also they heated only the lower room; for at that time there were only a few pupils. Now when I began to hold school, I had to deliver in writing to those of the University my Order of Classes, and what I read for every hour of the entire week. That did not please them at all. I read higher authors than they in the Pedagogium. And above all they would not permit that I should read dialectic. They complained of me so often that the councillors began to wonder what dialectic might be, concerning which one wrangled so and had for so long. Thereupon I explained to the burgomaster, Mr. Yoder Brant, who had asked me what dialectic was, he wondered why they wished to forbid me. When they had a con- vocation on Whitsuntide, they again passed the unani- mous judgment that I should not teach dialectic. But I did not worry myself about it, went ahead, because I had the pupils that could hear it with profit. For the other Faculties were not altogether against it; only the Faculty of Arts was against it; they said it brought the University the greatest reproach that so few boys should be matriculated. This was of great importance to them. This quarrel continued for six years, until a pestilence so diminished my school that I had no pupils who de- sired to study dialectic. After this they began to vex me that I should become a Master of Arts; that also continued for a long time. The deputies also agreed in this. When now I would not do this, I was accused before my gracious sirs; they gave me to understand that it did not become the city well to have a school- master who was not a Master of Arts. But they did not call me before the council. The substance of the matter was that they wanted to obtain power over the school. They were envious of this; but from whom and through whom I know well; for the honourable council has never complained concerning my school. They not only received the power over my school, but also over the church, under this pretence—that it would be well if school and church were united into one body. This had then a fine appearance; but what came out of it one sees daily; how officiously all things are supervised. For as every professor received also an appointment as a preacher, on this account neither this nor that was better conducted and administered. When now they had acquired authority over my school, they made regulations also concerning the en- trance and examinations. But when I was not pleased with all, as not profitable to the school, and some even harmful, it was decided by the authorities of the Uni- versity that they should hear me concerning it; I should choose for myself one or two from the University Fac- ulty of Arts, and they also should select as many; they should reconcile us with one another. This came to pass, and I was well pleased with the result, for they did not alter in the least my previously used Regula- tions. But when the affair was not settled according to their desire, they complained once more, for they were always too few who desired to enter; and it came from this that I read what one should read in the University. The struggle had such an appearance that the deputies themselves were compelled to interfere; they examined me and those from the Faculty of Arts; thus it was settled.

Again they wished that I should bring my pupils twice a year to the College, and there present them to be examined. I was not willing to do that, but desired that they should come to the school as often as they wished, and there examine them, or listen when some one examined them. But when I was not willing to do what they wished I was strongly condemned; then the deputies came to me very much displeased. I said, “I see well that there will be no end to the complaints, I would rather that one should take a school-master who will do everything that they wish.” When now this had lasted some years, the burgomaster, Mr. Yoder Brant, summoned me to him and counselled with me a long time, desiring that I should obey him in this, and permit my pupils to be examined once in the col- lege. Then if it did not please me, I could another time hold it in the school. I said: “Sir, the only thing that they want is that they also can assert to my gracious sirs that they care for the schools, and they will then continue to make arrangements con- stantly as it pleases now this one and now that one, and there is the school at an end. Therefore I cannot agree to that.” Then he said: “Then you will be left undisturbed no more, and will see yourself accused before the council; for I will not hide it from you that you are accused before the council for the ninth time.” I said: “Why have they not then allowed me to come at least for a defence?” He said: “Our gracious sirs have not yet judged of it for good, but hold out with lances and poles that it may not yet come to pass. For what do you think that many of the councillors' friends would think if so many powerful men, doctors and others, who are all from Basel, would stand against you there; and you a foreigner, who have no degree, were against them? How will you act then?” I answered: “If then no one will support me, yet I know that I have a just cause; I will testify to that and prove to all impartial scholars. Then I will ask the dear God that he will support me, and then await to see how well it will go.” Then the man laughed, offered me his hand, and said: “Go ahead.” When I went away he said once more to me: “Please, sir, do what I have counselled you; with that you will do an honourable council a favour.” Then I agreed to it; he thanked me with the promise if he could serve me then he would spare nothing. Afterward when he had reported it to the council, some of the gentlemen came to me, praised me on this account, also informed me how it had pleased my gracious sirs that we had agreed.

At the next quarterly feast I led my class thither; I permitted them to be examined. Then they went about the matter and vexed one another for quite a while because somewhat divided over it, and therefore called me to conduct the examination. I said they should do it; that I examined them every day in the school; yet I permitted myself to be persuaded, and conducted it even to this time. I had thought that the examinations were planned for this season, that one could see whether things were progressing much, but those who should listen sat there and chattered. Examinations are good for nothing, for one can ex- plain scarcely a line, and then one calls go on; it is only for this reason that one should think they apply themselves with the greatest industry. Thus I alone brought the classes out of my school thither for some years. I asked why should not the other school-mas- ters bring their pupils also. Then it was declared that they should bring theirs also. They also ordered that always two of the magistrates should visit the schools once every quarter. Perhaps they came once, perhaps not; they began then to chat a little with the school- master and went away again. Of what value was it? After I had become school-master I went to Frank- fort, sold my books there to Bartlus Vogel, of Witten- berg, so that scarcely the price of the paper was paid me. Those which I yet had in Basel, Jacob de Puys, of Paris, bought from me. But I sold the printing establishment to Peter Berna cheap.

CHAPTER XVIII PURCHASE OF AN ESTATE–GREAT CREDIT- HELP FROM GOD AND MAN

WHEN it was 1549 on the eighteenth day of June I bought the estate of Hugwalders for 660 florins. I had no ready money to give him, but I desired to pay him interest; with this he was well pleased. But when I desired to complete the bill of purchase he demanded a mortgage and sureties. I said: “I will mortgage to you the estate which I have bought from you and my houses.” With that I borrowed 200 florins from Mr. Frobenius, which I gave him in ready money; and yet he would not receive the mortgage without a surety. I said: “I have made greater purchases than this, and they have trusted me without sureties; I will pay you interest on nothing.” I looked after money. Then the gentleman of “the White Dove’ loaned me 500 florins. With this money I paid Hugwalders. I also received 200 florins from Dr. Frobenius's son-in-law, called Kannengiesser. I was also yet indebted to Dr. Isengerius for 200 florins, which had been inherited by him from Dominus Bebelius. At that time I was indebt- ed to Dr. Hervagius for 100 sun crowns, which I had promised to pay on St. John the Baptist’s day of the same year that he had loaned it to me. But when it was St. John’s eve I did not have the money. I went at eight o'clock in the morning to Hervagius and told him that I could not keep my word; for I did not have the money. Then he said to me with some anger: “I am sorry for that, for with my good deed I change a friend into an enemy, for I must have the money.” I said: “No, if God wills, I will not become your enemy, I will see what I can do in this matter.” I went to the shop of Mr. Balthasar Hanus, and was sad. Then Bebelius came to me and said: “Why are you so sad, country- man?” So he always called me, for he said that the Kochensbergers, from where he was, and the Wallisians were fellow countrymen. I said: “I should have money, and I have none.” He said: “Odds! is it only about money? To whom are you indebted?” I said: “I am indebted to Hervagius for 100 crowns, and ought to give it to him to-morrow, and I have not got it.” He said: “Has he much need of it? If you want money, all good and genuine, I will give it to you.” I said: “He wishes to have the crowns again.” Then said Mr. Balthasar Hanus: “Mr. Bebelius, I have here upstairs 600 crowns which belong to the Count von Gryers. If you will give me the crowns again when the Count comes, then I will give the 100 crowns to Thomas.” Bebelius said: “Yes.” Then he gave me in the name of Herr Bebelius the 100 crowns, and I gave him a little note which he gave to Dr. Bebelius. I took the money, concerning which I knew nothing an hour before, and gave it to Hervagius. He was almost angry, and thought that I had deceived him. But when I told him how it had come about he thanked me with the offer that if I needed money hereafter, and I should come, he would not leave me in the lurch. He ought to do me a little good justly, since I have merited from him manifold ones for this reason: I had come into the disfavour of Dr. Frobenius and Nicolaus Episcopius, who wished to give me to print with three presses during ten years from Erasmus Frobenius; but when they learned that I concerned myself so much in regard to the business with Her- vagius in order to appease him, then they took it away from me again. I would have been in the ten years quite a rich man. For the 100 crowns Bebelius de- manded nothing of me, no interest even, until he came to his death-bed, and lived not three days more; he summoned me through Mr. Bonaventur, of Brun, now mayor. When I came he said to me alone: “Thomas, do you know for what you are indebted to me?” I said: “Yes, sir, 100 crowns.” He said: “If I depart at this time I will place you in the hands of a man who will not oppress you.” Now when he died, Isen- grinius brought my note. I said: “I have it not now, but I will pay you honestly.” He said: “If you de- sire yet more with it, I will give it to you.” I said: “Give me yet enough to make it 200 florins.” He gave it to me, and then I had to pay interest on it. Thus I was without any sureties indebted for so much money that some years I had to give 60 florins interest; but I discharged it by degrees. So that no money collector has ever come to my house, God be praised 1

CHAPTER XIX PARENTS’ SORROW AND PARENTS’ JOY- SON'S DOCTORATE AND MARRIAGE

NoT long thereafter a pestilence once more broke out, and since I had many boarders all the time they did not wish to go away from me, but asked that I go with them to the country estate. I did this in the week before Whitsuntide. On Whitsuntide we went in to church. Then this evil thing befell my dear daughter Ursela who died on Thursday in the country. On Fri- day my neighbours took her away; she was buried at St. Elizabeth's; she was seventeen years old. Then all of my boarders left me except the son of Mr. von Rollen, who remained with me quite alone. On this account, and because of his other virtues, I would have received him as a son, to have raised him up to study, until he had received his doctor's degree; but his father, now deceased, would not permit him. At the time of the pestilence my son Felix was with the clerk of the court of the province, Dr. Peter Gawiler, at Röteln. When I had purchased the estate of Hugwalders and had paid for it, I began to build; first the spring, the house, the barn and stable, the vineyard and other things, which seemed necessary to me. Then I had great expense and not less work, for all the time I gave the work-people from the city their wages and meals. I also purchased from Lux Dechem three acres of meadow for 130 florins. Now, after I had built, and went out each day several times, my gracious sirs thought that it was not possible that I could attend to the estate and the school; there were very many speeches before the council and on the street, espe- cially with the University men; on this account I had many overseers. But when one could not notice that I neglected anything they left me in peace, and now for some years unsuspected.

After my son Felix had returned from Rôteln, and had studied literature for a long time, he had a desire to study medicine, and to that I desired very willingly to help him. I had received an exchange student from Montpelier, and sent him thither, where he then applied his time well, and because my dear daughter Ursela was dead I desired to have another daughter. So I thought where can I find a wife for my son. And be- cause the time had not arrived, so that he could marry, especially because he wished first to go to France, I wished in my heart to choose one with whom I could make myself happy, with the hope of the future, and pretend to myself that I already had another daughter with whom I could gradually become ac- quainted. Then no one pleased me better than the daughter of Master Jecklemann, the councillor; and that for many reasons not necessary to relate here. Therefore I spoke to him concerning his daughter. He met me with a friendly answer; that my son was now going to France; they were both quite young; when he came again, and it pleased them both, then he would meet me in a friendly way. And it was not his inten- tion meanwhile to find her a husband. When Felix had cost me quite a little, and had returned home, I spoke again to the father. He answered: “When he has become a doctor, we will see.” When now he be- came a doctor with honour I again applied to the father. Then he could no longer well delay the matter, although it appeared to me that he was not very willing, for he feared that I was much in debt. But I said no one need worry himself on account of my debts, I would, with God’s help, pay them without any one's assistance, as also I have done, God be praised. There- after a day was chosen and settled upon and we there- after held the marriage and the wedding-feast with honour. The father, Franz, has aided my son to the sum of six florins in the expense of his doctor's degree; otherwise no one has had any expense on account of my son; and although the custom is that the gracious masters should give a new Doctor, Master, or Baccalau- reate something as a contribution, my son has received nothing. Perhaps it is thus ordered from God, in order that no one might be able to upbraid him; one has had no expense with him, on which account he would be bound to serve this one or that one. When now my son and his wife had been with me three years they longed to dwell alone, to keep house for themselves, and to obtain some property, for, God be praised they were fortunate then, and are yet; and what the departed Grynaus wisely said at the christen- ing of Felix became true. Concerning his happiness and welfare in his housekeeping it is not necessary to say much. May it please God, that he and his wife rec- ognise this, and give to their Lord praise and thanks therefor. Amen. -

CHAPTER XX PESTILENCE AND GRACIOUS EXEMPTION.— RETROSPECT-GOD BE PRAISED

SoME years after this time a terrible pestilence broke out, which respected no age, in which God also seized me, thereafter also my wife; yet our dear Father in Heaven wished to let us live longer here on earth. The Lord showed us grace, so that it redounds to the glory of God, our Saviour, Amen. And to the praise of God I cannot overlook it, that in all the sickness I felt no pain, although my wife, and also other peo- ple have suffered great pain. This I also ascribe to the mercy of God, who will save us all from eternal pain through his son Jesus Christ. Amen, Amen.

Now I have written for you according to your re- quest, my dear son Felix, of the beginning and the continuation of my life even to the present time, as much as I have been able to remember after so long a time; yet not all, for who would be able to do this? For besides I have been many times in the greatest danger on the mountains, on the water, on the Boden- see, on the Lake of Luzern and other lakes, also on the Rhine; similarly on the land, as in Poland, Hungaria, Silesia, Saxony, Schwabia, and Bavaria, so much have I suffered in my youth besides that, which is revealed in this book, that I have often thought, is it possible that I yet live, can stand or walk so long a time and neither have broken a limb nor received a permanent injury? for God has protected me through his angels. And as thou seest how poor my beginning and how per- ilously my life has been spent, I am come nevertheless into considerable fortune and honour, though I received almost nothing from my parents, and my wife nothing at all from hers. Nevertheless we have come to this, that I at one time have come into possession in the lovely city of Basel of four houses with considerable furniture. This through the greatest labour both of myself and my wife; similarly I have acquired a house and court-yard, also a farm, through the grace of God; with this also a house in the school; as in the beginning I could not even call a little hut in Basel my own. And, however humble my origin, God has granted me the honour, so that in so widely famous a city as Basel I have taught school according to my power now for thirty-one years in the next highest school to the University, wherein many noblemen’s sons have been instructed, in which now many doctors or otherwise learned men have been; some, and not a few, from the nobility, who now possess and rule land and people, and others who sit in the courts and councils; also at all times have had many boarders who have spoken and shown me all honour, they and their fam- ilies; that the lovely city of Zurich, similarly, also the famous city of Bern has given me its wine of honour, on account of the city; and other places besides have hon- oured me through their honoured and learned people; thus also at Strassburg eleven doctors appeared to hon- our me, because I had taught at the beginning of his studies my dear departed brother, Simon Lithonius, preceptor of the second class; at Sitten, when they sent me the wine from the city, the captain said: “This wine of honour the city of Sitten gives to our dear fellow countryman, Thomas Platter, as to a father of the children of the common land of Valais.” What shall I say also of you, dear son Felix, of your honour and position, that God has given you the honour, that you have become known to princes and gentlemen, noble and commoners? All these things, dear son Felix, rec- ognise and acknowledge; ascribe nothing to yourself, but your life long adjudge to God alone the praise and the glory, then will you attain to eternal life. Amen.

Written by Thomas Platter, 1572, on the 12th day of February, in the seventy-third year of his age on the Lord's Shrovetide, which at that time was on the 17th day of February. God grant me a happy end through Jesus Christ. Amen. (1) THE END.</text>