Familiar Colloquies/The Soldier's Confession

by Desiderius Erasmus

THE SOLDIERS CONFESSION.

Hanno, Thrasymachus.

Ha.	How comes it about that you who went away a Mercury, come back a Vulcan?
Thr.	What do you talk to me of your Mercuries and your Vulcans for?
Ha.	Because you seemed to be ready to fly when you went away, but you are come limping home.
Thr.	I am come back like a soldier then.
Ha.	You a soldier, that would outrun a stag, if an enemy were at your heels.
Thr.	The hope of booty made me valiant.
Ha.	Well, have you brought home a good deal of plunder then?
Thr.	Empty pockets.
Ha.	Then you were the lighter for travelling.
Thr.	But I was heavy laden with sin.
Ha.	That is heavy luggage indeed, if the apostle says right, who calls sin lead.
Thr.	I have seen and had a hand in more villanies this campaign than in the whole course of my life before.
Ha.	How do you like a soldier's life?
Thr.	There is no course of life in the world more wicked or more wretched.
Ha.	What then must be in the minds of those people that for the sake of a little money, and some out of curiosity, make as much haste to a battle as to a banquet?
Thr.	In truth, I can think no other but they are possessed; for if the devil were not in them they would never anticipate their fate.
Ha.	So one would think; for if you would put them upon any honest business, they will scarce stir a foot in it for any money. But tell me, how went the battle? who got the better of it?
Thr.	There was such a hallooing, hurly-burly, noise of guns, trumpets, and drums, neighing of horses, and shouting of men, that I was so far from knowing what others were a doing, that I scarcely knew where I was myself.
Ha.	How comes it about then that others, after a fight is over, do paint you out every circumstance so to the life, and tell you what such an officer said, and what the other did, as though they had been nothing but lookers on all the time, and had been everywhere at the same time?
Thr.	It is my opinion that they lie confoundedly. I can tell you what was done in my own tent, but as to what was done in the battle, I know nothing at all of that.
Ha.	Don't you know how you came to be lame neither?
Thr.	Scarce that, upon my honour, but I suppose my knee was hurt by a stone, or a horse-heel, or so.
Ha.	Well, but I can tell you.
Thr.	You tell me! Why, has anybody told you?
Ha.	No, but I guess.
Thr.	Tell me, then.
Ha.	When you were running away in a fright, you fell down and hit it against a stone.
Thr.	Let me die if you have not hit the nail on the head.
Ha.	Go, get you home and tell your wife of your exploits.
Thr.	She will read me a juniper-lecture for coming home in such a pickle.
Ha.	But what restitution will you make for what you have stolen?
Thr.	That is made already.
Ha.	To whom?
Thr.	Why, to whores, sutlers, and gamesters.
Ha.	That is like a soldier for all the world; it is but just that what is got over the devil's back should be spent under his belly.
Ha.	But I hope you have kept your fingers all this while from sacrilege?
Thr.	There is nothing sacred in hostility; there we neither spare private houses nor churches.
Ha.	How will you make satisfaction?
Thr.	They say there is no satisfaction to be made for what is done in war, for all things are lawful there.
Ha.	You mean by the law of arms, I suppose?
Thr.	You are right.
Ha.	But that law is the highest injustice. It was not the love of your country, but the love of booty that made you a soldier.
Thr.	I confess so, and I believe very few go into the army with any better design.
Ha.	It is indeed some excuse to be mad with the greater part of mankind.
Thr.	I have heard a parson say in his pulpit that war was lawful.
Ha.	Pulpits indeed are the oracles of truth. But war may be lawful for a prince, and yet not so for you.
Thr.	I have heard that every man must live by his trade.
Ha.	A very honourable trade indeed, to burn houses, rob churches, ravish nuns, plunder the poor, and murder the innocent!
Thr.	Butchers are hired to kill beasts; and why is our trade found fault with, who are hired to kill men?
Ha.	But were you never thoughtful what should become of your soul if you happened to be killed in the battle?
Thr.	Not very much; I was very well satisfied in my mind, having once for all commended myself to St. Barbara.
Ha.	And did she take you under her protection?
Thr.	I fancied so, for methought she gave me a little nod.
Ha.	What time was it? In the morning.
Thr.	No, no; it was after supper.
Ha.	And by that time I suppose the trees seemed to walk too?
Thr.	How this man guesses everything! But St. Christopher was the saint I most depended on, whose picture I had always in my eye.
Ha.	What, in your tent?
Thr.	We had drawn him with charcoal upon our sail-cloth.
Thr.	Then, to be sure that Christopher the collier was a sure card to trust to. But, without jesting, I do not see how you can expect to be forgiven all these villanies, unless you go to Rome.
Thr.	Yes, I can; I know a shorter way than that.
Ha.	What way is that?
Thr.	I will go to the Dominicans, and there I can do my business with the commissaries for a trifle.
Ha.	What, for sacrilege?
Thr.	Ay; if I had robbed Christ himself, and cut off His head afterwards, they have pardons would reach it, and commissions large enough to compound for it.
Ha.	That is well indeed, if God should ratify your composition.
Thr.	Nay, I am rather afraid the devil should not ratify it; God is of a forgiving nature.
Ha.	What priest will you get you?
Thr.	One that I know has but little modesty or honesty.
Ha.	Like to like. And when that is over, you will go straight away to the communion, like a good Christian, will you not?
Thr.	Why should I not? For after I have once discharged the jakes of my sins into his cowl, and unburdened myself of my luggage, let him look to it that absolved me.
Ha.	But how can you be sure that he does absolve you?
Thr.	I know that well enough.
Ha.	How do you know it?
Thr.	Because he lays his hand upon my head and mutters over something, I don't know what.
Ha.	What if he should give you all your sins again when he lays his hand upon your head, and these should be the words he mutters to himself? I absolve thee from all thy good deeds, of which I find few or none in thee; I restore thee to thy wonted manners, and leave thee just as I found thee.
Thr.	Let him look to what he says; it is enough for me that I believe I am absolved.
Ha.	But you run a great hazard by that belief, for perhaps that will not be satisfaction to God, to whom thou art indebted.
Thr.	Who in mischief put you in my way to disturb my conscience, which was very quiet before?
Ha.	Nay, I think it is a very happy encounter to meet a friend that gives good advice.
Thr.	I cannot tell how good it is, but I am sure it is not very pleasant.