The Colloquies of Erasmus Part 69

_Will._ I never have seen _Germany_; therefore, pray don't think much to tell how they entertain a Traveller.

_Bert._ I can't tell whether the Method of entertaining be the same every where; but I'll tell you what I saw there. No Body bids a Guest welcome, lest he should seem to court his Guests to come to him, for that they look upon to be sordid and mean, and not becoming the German Gravity. When you have called a good While at the Gate, at Length one puts his Head out of the Stove Window (for they commonly live in Stoves till Midsummer) like a Tortoise from under his Sh.e.l.l: Him you must ask if you can have any Lodging there; if he does not say no, you may take it for granted, that there is Room for you. When you ask where the Stable is, he points to it; there you may curry your Horse as you please yourself, for there is no Servant will put a Hand to it. If it be a noted Inn, there is a Servant shews you the Stable, and a Place for your Horse, but incommodious enough; for they keep the best Places for those that shall come afterwards; especially for n.o.blemen. If you find Fault with any Thing, they tell you presently, if you don't like, look for another Inn. In their Cities, they allow Hay, but very unwillingly and sparingly, and that is almost as dear as Oats. When you have taken Care of your Horse, you come whole into the Stove, Boots, Baggage, Dirt and all, for that is a common Room for all Comers.

_Will._ In _France_, they appoint you a separate Chamber, where you may change your Cloaths, clean and warm your self, or take Rest if you have a Mind to it.

_Bert._ There's nothing of that here. In the Stove, you pull off your Boots, put on your Shoes, and if you will, change your Shirt, hang up your wet Cloths near the Stove Iron, and get near it to dry yourself.

There's Water provided for you to wash your Hands, if you will; but as for the Cleanness of it, it is for the most Part such that you will want another Water to wash that off.

_Will._ I commend this Sort of People, that have nothing of Effeminacy in them.

_Bert._ If you come in at four a-Clock in the Afternoon, you must not go to Supper till nine, and sometimes not till ten.

_Will._ Why so?

_Bert._ They never make any Thing ready till they see all their Company together, that one Trouble may serve for all.

_Will._ They are for taking the shortest Way.

_Bert._ You are right; so that oftentimes, there come all together into the same Stove, eighty or ninety Foot-Men, Horse-Men, Merchants, Marriners, Waggoners, Husband-Men, Children, Women, sick and sound.

_Will._ This is having all Things in common.

_Bert._ There one combs his Head, another wipes off his Sweat, another cleans his Spatterdashes or Boots, another belches Garlick; and in short, there is as great a Confusion of Tongues and Persons, as there was at the Building the Tower of _Babel_. And if they see any Body of another Country, who by his Habit looks like a Man of Quality, they all stare at him so wistfully, as if he was a Sort of strange Animal brought out of _Africa_. And when they are set at Table, and he behind them, they will be still looking back at him, and be staring him in the Face, till they have forgot their Suppers.

_Will._ At _Rome_, _Paris_ or _Venice_, there's no Body thinks any Thing strange.

_Bert._ In the mean Time, 'tis a Crime for you to call for any Thing.

When it is grown pretty late, and they don't expect any more Guests, out comes an old grey-bearded Servant, with his Hair cut short, and a crabbed Look, and a slovenly Dress.

_Will._ Such Fellows ought to be Cup-Bearers to the Cardinals at _Rome_.

_Bert._ He having cast his Eyes about, counts to himself, how many there are in the Stove; the more he sees there, the more Fire he makes in the Stove although it be at a Time when the very Heat of the Sun would be troublesome; and this with them, is accounted a princ.i.p.al Part of good Entertainment, to make them all sweat till they drop again. If any one who is not used to the Steam, shall presume to open the Window never so little, that he be not stifled, presently they cry out to shut it again: If you answer you are not able to bear it, you'll presently hear, get you another Inn then.

_Will._ But in my Opinion, nothing is more dangerous, than for so many to draw in the same Vapour; especially when their Bodies are opened with the Heat; and to eat in the same Place, and to stay there so many Hours, not to mention the belching of Garlick, the Farting, the stinking Breaths, for many have secret Distempers, and every Distemper has its Contagion; and without doubt, many have the _Spanish_, or as it is call'd, the _French_ Pox, although it is common to all Nations. And it is my Opinion, there is as much Danger from such Persons, as there is from those that have the Leprosy. Tell me now, what is this short of a Pestilence?

_Bert._ They are Persons of a strong Const.i.tution, and laugh at, and disregard those Niceties.

_Will._ But in the mean Time, they are bold at the Perils of other Men.

_Bert._ What would you do in this Case? 'Tis what they have been used to, and it is a Part of a constant Mind, not to depart from a Custom.

_Will._ And yet, within these five and twenty Years, nothing was more in Vogue in _Brabant_, than hot Baths, but now they are every where grown out of Use; but the new Scabbado has taught us to lay them down.

_Bert._ Well, but hear the rest: By and by, in comes our bearded _Ganymede_ again, and lays on the Table as many Napkins as there are Guests: But, good G.o.d! not Damask ones, but such as you'd take to have been made out of old Sails. There are at least eight Guests allotted to every Table. Now those that know the Way of the Country, take their Places, every one as he pleases, for there's no Difference between Poor or Rich, between the Master and Servant.

_Will._ This was that ancient Equality which now the Tyrant Custom has driven quite out of the World. I suppose Christ liv'd after this Manner with his Disciples.

_Bert._ After they are all plac'd, out comes the sour-look'd _Ganymede_ again, and counts his Company over again; by and by he comes in again, and brings every Man a Wooden Dish, and a Spoon of the same Silver, and then a Gla.s.s; and then a little after he brings Bread, which the Guests may chip every one for themselves at Leisure, while the Porridge is boiling. For sometimes they sit thus for near an Hour.

_Will._ Do none of the Guests call for Meat in the mean Time?

_Bert._ None who knows the Way of the Country. At last the Wine is set upon the Table: Good G.o.d! how far from being tasteless? So thin and sharp, that Sophisters ought to drink no other. And if any of the Guests should privately offer a Piece of Money to get a little better Wine some where else; at first they'll say nothing to you, but give you a Look, as if they were going to murder you; and if you press it farther, they answer you, there have been so many Counts and Marquisses that have lodg'd here, and none of them ever found fault with this Wine: If you don't like it, get you another Inn. They account only the n.o.blemen of their own Nation to be Men, and where-ever you come, they are shewing you their Arms. By this time, comes a Morsel to pacify a barking Stomach: And by and by follow the Dishes in great Pomp; commonly the first has Sippits of Bread in Flesh Broth, or if it be a Fish Day, in a Soup of Pulse. After that comes in another Soup, and then a Service of Butcher's Meat, that has been twice boil'd, or salt Meats warm'd again, and then Pulse again, and by and by something of more solid Food, until their Stomachs being pretty well staid, they bring roast Meat or stewed Fish, which is not to be at all contemn'd; but this they are sparing of, and take it away again quickly. This is the Manner they order the Entertainment, as Comedians do, who intermingle Dances among their Scenes, so do they their Chops and Soups by Turns: But they take Care that the last Act shall be the best.

_Will._ This is the Part of a good Poet.

_Bert._ And it would be a heinous Offence, if in the mean Time any Body should say, Take away this Dish, there's no Body eats. You must sit your Time appointed, which I think they measure by the Hour-Gla.s.s. At length, out comes that bearded Fellow, or the Landlord himself, in a Habit but little differing from his Servants, and asks how cheer you? And by and by some better Wine is brought. And they like those best that drink most, tho' he that drinks most pays no more than he that drinks least.

_Will._ A strange Temper of the Nation!

_Bert._ There are some of them that drink twice as much Wine as they pay for their Ordinary. But before I leave this Entertainment, it is wonderful what a Noise and Chattering there is, when once they come to be warm with Wine. In short, it deafens a Man. They oftentimes bring in a Mixture of Mimicks, which these People very much delight in, tho' they are a detestable Sort of Men. There's such a singing, prating, bawling, jumping, and knocking, that you would think the Stove were falling upon your Head, and one Man can't hear another speak. And this they think is a pleasant Way of living, and there you must sit in Spight of your Heart till near Midnight.

_Will._ Make an End of your Meal now, for I myself am tir'd with such a tedious one.

_Bert._ Well, I will. At length the Cheese is taken away, which scarcely pleases them, except it be rotten and full of Maggots. Then the old bearded Fellow comes again with a Trencher, and a many Circles and semi-Circles drawn upon it with Chalk, this he lays down upon the Table, with a grim Countenance, and without speaking. You would say he was some _Charon_. They that understand the Meaning of this lay down their Money one after another till the Trencher is fill'd. Having taken Notice of those who lay down, he reckons it up himself, and if all is paid, he gives you a Nod.

_Will._ But what if there should be any Thing over and above?

_Bert._ Perhaps he'll give it you again, and they oftentimes do so.

_Will._ Does no Body find fault with the Reckoning?

_Bert._ No Body that is wise. For they will say, what Sort of a Fellow are you? You pay no more than the rest.

_Will._ This is a frank Sort of Men, you are speaking of.

_Bert._ If any one is weary with his Journey, and desires to go to Bed as soon as he has supp'd, he is bid to stay till the rest go too.

_Will._ This seems to me to be _Plato_'s City.

_Bert._ Then every one is shew'd to his Chamber, and truly 'tis nothing else but a Chamber, there is only a Bed there, and nothing else that you can either make Use of or steal.

_Will._ Are Things very clean there?

_Bert._ As clean as they were at the Table. Sheets wash'd perhaps six Months ago.

_Will._ What becomes of your Horses all this While?

_Bert._ They are treated after the Manner that the Men are.

_Will._ But is there the same Treatment every where.

_Bert._ It is a little more civil in some Places, and worse in others, than I have told you; but in general it is thus.

_Will._ What if I should now tell you how they treat their Guests in that Part of _Italy_ call'd _Lombardy_, and in _Spain_, and in _England_, and in _Wales_, for the _English_ have the Manners both of the _French_ and the _Germans_, being a Mixture of those two Nations.

The _Welsh_ boast themselves to be the original _English_.

_Bert._ Pray relate it. I never had the Opportunity of travelling in them.

_Will._ I have not Leisure now, and the Master of the Ship bid me be on board by three a Clock, unless I would lose my Pa.s.sage. Another Time we shall have an Opportunity of prating our Bellies full.