IX

IX

ITER ET EQUUS—_Journey on Horseback_

PHILIPPUS, MISIPPUS, MISOSPUDUS, PLANETES

In this dialogue are contained those matters that pertain to horses and peregrinations, concerning which see as a whole, Grapaldus, lib. 1, cap. 8, and Volaterranus, lib. 25, philologiae. We place the kinds one by one, according to their nomenclature, primarily for the sake of boys.

_Lupatum_, ein scharpff Gebisz. _Frenum_, ein Zaum. _Orea_, der Riem unter dem Maul. _Aurea_, der Riem über die Ohren. _Antilena_, der Brustriem. _Postilena_, der hinder Riem. Hinderbug. _Ephippium_, Sattel. _Stapes vel stapeda_, Steigreiff. _Habena_, Zügel. _Calcar_, Spor.

GENERA EQUORUM

_Asturco gradarius, tollutarius, tieldo_, ein Zelter. _Mannus_, ein kleines Rösslein. _Cantherius_, ein Mönch. _Succussator_, ein harttrabender Gaul. _Vector seu ephippiarius_, Reitrosz. _Clitellarius_, Saumrosz. _Jugalis, helciarius_, Ziehrosz. Wagenrosz. Kummetrosz. _Dorsualis_, Müllerrosz, das auff dem Rücke trägt. _Meritorius_, Lehenrosz. Drei Plappert Rosz.

CURRUS

_Species_ {Rheda, ein Karr. {Sarracum, Lastwagen. Stein. Wagen.

{Rotae, Reder. _Partes_ {Temo, Deichsel. {Canthi, Radschinnen.

The names of the interlocutors are suitably framed. Misippus, the hater of horses, μισῶν τοῦς ἵππους; Philippus, the lover of horses, φιλῶν τοῦς ἵππους; Misospudus, the hater of studies (_osor studiorum_), μισων τῶν σπυδίων; Planetes erro, vagus, planus, ein Landstreicher, from πλανάομαι, erro, vagor.

_Phil._ Wouldn’t you like us to set out for Boulogne along the Seine, to cheer our minds?

_Misi. and Miso._ There is nothing we should like better, especially on a mild day like this, without a sound of wind, and when, again, we are having a holiday from school.

_Phil._ Why are you not at work to-day?

_Miso._ Because Pandulfus is going to make all the masters drunk with a great luncheon in honour of his laurels in obtaining his mastership.

_Plan._ Oh! what a lot they will drink!

_Miso._ Much more than will satisfy thirst.

_Misi._ I have an Asturian horse.

_Phil._ And I have a hired horse which I have got from a one-eyed rogue.

_Miso._ Planetes and I will go in a travelling carriage; the rest, if it seems good to them, shall follow us on foot, or by strength of arms push a boat against the current of the stream.

_Phil._ Rather let it be dragged along by horses.

_Miso._ As you please (_ut erit cordi_), for we choose to take the journey on foot.

_Phil._ Eh! boy, bridle my horse and saddle him! Why, in the name of mischief, are you putting on the little steed so sharp-toothed a curb? Give him rather that light little curb with the knobs.

_Boy._ Alas! he has neither bit nor bridle.

_Phil._ If I knew who had broken them, I would break him!

_Misi._ What are you saying in your agitation?

_Phil._ Put in bread for a meal. Get it where you can, conveniently.

_Boy._ Certainly, whilst you are at your school classes. You want both horses and their equipment!

_Phil._ Supply, then, what is lacking out of this cord.

_Boy._ It will look unsightly.

_Phil._ Go, fool, who will see us when we get out of the town?

_Boy._ The body-band is also in two.

_Phil._ Mend it with some straps.

_Boy._ It has no tail-band.

_Phil._ There is no need for it.

_Plan._ A great and experienced horseman! Why, the the saddle will slide on to his neck and the horse will shoot you over his head.

_Phil._ What is that to me? The road is muddy rather than stony. I shall take my fill of dirt, but none of my blood will be spilt. If all these preparations have to be made, we shall not set forth from this place before the evening. Bring a horse of some kind, whatever his trappings may be.

_Boy._ Here he is, ready. Mount him. Eh! what are you doing, putting your right foot first into the stirrup?

_Phil._ What am I to do then?

_Boy._ Why, the left, and hold the reins in your left hand; with the right hand take this switch, which will serve in place of spurs.

_Phil._ I don’t need it. My heels will do for spurs.

_Boy._ You see Jubellius Taurea, or is it Asellus who entered into a struggle with that famous steed.[39]

_Phil._ Have done with your glib stories! Where are the others?

_Boy._ Off you go! I will accompany you on foot.

_Misi._ Most abominable, jolting horse. The beast will break all my bones before we reach the town.

_Phil._ What, in the name of evil, is that horse-covering? It is a pack-saddle, I believe.

_Misi._ Surely not.

_Phil._ How much for it? What’s its price?

_Misi._ Fourteen Turonic[40] sesterces.

_Phil._ I wouldn’t give as much for the horse himself with his fodder and trappings. It seems to me to be neither a draught horse, nor a horse for riding, but a beast of burden, ready for the pack-saddle, or for the yoke, or to carry goods on its back. Note, I beg, how it constantly stumbles. It would trip up over a piece of paper, or a stalk of straw spread out on its way.

_Misi._ What do you say of it? It is as yet a foal. But chatter on as you like. Do you see this horse? He, whatever he may be, is going to carry me, or I him.

_Boy._ The poor animal has a very tender hoof.

_Phil._ What, then, did the one-eyed man so carefully warn you about when he handed the horse over to you?

_Misi._ He begged, in the most amiable manner, that the two of us should not sit on the beast, one on the saddle and the other on the buttocks, and that I should have him carefully covered when he was put in the stable.

_Boy._ The poor horse surely needs covering when he has his sides of raw flesh.

_Phil._ What are you doing? Are you not getting into the carriage?

_Plan._ You speak to the point. The driver now demands as much again as what we agreed to.

_Phil._ It is easy to deal with drivers and boatmen; they will do everything to your satisfaction. They tell you you will accomplish everything. This kind of man is soft, gentle, obliging, courteous, respectful. Drivers are the scum of the earth, the boatmen the scum of the sea. Give him the half of what he asks.

_Boy._ What time do you suppose it is already?

_Phil._ Guessing by the sun, I should say past ten o’clock.

_Boy._ Mid-day is near.

_Phil._ Fancy! Eh! Misippus, let us get along. Follow who can! We shall be found at the “Red Hat,” _i.e._, the hostelry situated opposite the royal pyramid, not far from the house of the Curio.[41]

_Misi._ Which way shall we go?

_Phil._ Through the Marcelline Gate, on the right. It is a simple and straight road.

_Misi._ Nay, let us take this lane. It is a pleasant and quiet way.

_Phil._ By no means. Nothing is easier and safer than the high road, for by cross roads we shall lose our friends, especially since that way, if my memory does not fail me, is full of windings and turnings.

_Misi._ Who are those men with spears? They seem to be soldiers from the mercenary troops.

_Phil._ What must we do?

_Misi._ Let us turn back, so that we don’t get robbed.

_Phil._ Let us go forward, for on horseback we shall easily escape them, by running through the fields.

_Misi._ What if they have got handcuffs with them!

_Phil._ I see nothing of the sort, but only long lances.

_Misi._ Come nearer, boy.

_Boy._ What’s amiss?

_Misi._ Don’t you see those Germans?

_Boy._ Which?

_Misi._ Those people coming this way against us.

_Boy._ They are German[42] sure enough, but two Parisian peasants with their sticks.

_Misi._ Yes, certainly, that is so. A blessing on you! You have restored my courage and vitality. But where are Misospudus and Planetes?

_Boy._ The driver, enraged at not getting what he had demanded, drove them on a lumpy road. The horses, in struggling with all their might to drag the wheels as they stuck in the deep mud, broke in pieces the pole of the carriage and the horse-collars. Then the tyres, together with the nails, were torn off. The reckless driver, with blind rage, had put the brake on the wheel. He is now angrily repairing the damage and blaspheming all the gods, and cursing the passengers with the most terrible imprecations.

_Phil._ May his curses recoil on his own head!

_Boy._ I think they will leave the carriage behind and get into a cart, which is going, unladen, to Boulogne. Glaucus and Diomedes had got on a boat, but the boatman declared that against this wind they could not make way with their oars and poles. Also they say that the horses which pull boats up the stream are all at work, so I know not by what means the boat could be drawn. So they have not yet loosened the stern-rope.

_Phil._ Is there any news as to the boat fare?

_Plan._ Absolutely none.

_Phil._ That is extraordinary. I guess what will happen. They won’t reach Boulogne before nightfall.

_Misi._ What of that! Let us take all to-morrow for refreshing our minds. But look how softly the river flows by! What a delightful murmur there is of the full crystal water amongst the golden rocks! Do you hear the nightingale and the goldfinch? Of a truth, the country round Paris is most delightful!

_Phil._ What sight can be equal to this? How placidly the Seine flows in its current, how that small ship with its full sail before a favourable breeze is borne along! It is marvellous how minds are restored by all these things. Oh, how the meadow is clothed as by magic art.

_Misi._ And, moreover, by what a marvellous Artist!

_Phil._ What a sweet scent is exhaled!

_Misi._ Here, here; bend to the left so as to escape the thickest of mud, in which thy steed at once would lose his hoof. How different this field is from the next, covered over with dirt, squalid, withered, bristling thick with straws, and armed with thorns.

_Boy._ Don’t you see that the field is covered with the waste from the river? and elsewhere it is fruitful.

Hyberno pulvere, verno luto, magna farra Camille metes.[43]

_Phil._ Please, sing some verses, as you are wont to do.

_Misi._ With pleasure.

Felix ille animi, divisque simillimus ipsis, Quem non mendaci resplendens gloria fuco Sollicitat, non fastosi mala gaudia luxus: Sed tacitos sinit ire dies, et paupere cultu Exigit innocuae tranquilla silentia vitae.[44]

_Phil._ Most elegant and matterful verses, whose are they, I beg?

_Misi._ Don’t you know?

_Phil._ No.

_Misi._ They are by Angelus Politian.

_Phil._ I should have taken them to be from the classics. They have the grace of antiquity. I suspect we have lost our way!

_Misi._ Ah! good sir, which is the way to Boulogne?

_Rustic._ You are going out of the way. Turn your beasts to the cross-roads and strike the way there where the river bends. On it you cannot get wrong. The road is straight and plain up to the old oak, then you turn quickly on this side (pointing with his hand).

_Misi._ We are grateful.

_Rustic._ May God lead you!

_Misi._ I would rather run on foot than be shaken as I am by this horse.

_Phil._ You will have so much the greater appetite.

_Misi._ I shall, on the contrary, be able to eat nothing, so weary and exhausted I am in all my body. I would rather go to bed than ask for anything to eat.

_Phil._ Sit down, with knees drawn together, and not stretched apart. You will feel weariness the less.

_Misi._ That is the custom of women. I would do it were I not afraid of the laughter and grimaces of passers by.

_Boy._ Stop a moment, Philip, until the smith here has shod thy horse, whose shoe on the right foot has become loose.

_Misi._ Nay, rather let us stay here, so that if the inn is closed we may sleep out in the open air.

_Phil._ What is that? Under the open sky? Would it not be more excellent than in a closed room? It would be a more serious matter for us to have to go without a meal.