Flowers from a Persian Garden and Other Papers Part 21

_ADDITIONAL NOTE._

DRINKING THE SEA DRY, p. 306.

The same jest is also found in _Aino Folk-Tales_, translated by Prof.

Basil Hall Chamberlain, and published in the _Folk-Lore Journal_, 1888, as follows:

There was the Chief of the Mouth of the River and the Chief of the Upper Current of the River. The former was very vain-glorious, and therefore wished to put the latter to shame or to kill him by engaging him in an attempt to perform something impossible. So he sent for him and said: "The sea is a useful thing, in so far as it is the original home of the fish which come up the river. But it is very destructive in stormy weather, when it beats wildly upon the beach. Do you now drink it dry, so that there may be rivers and dry land only. If you cannot do so, then forfeit all your possessions." The other said, greatly to the vain-glorious man's surprise: "I accept the challenge." So, on their going down to the beach, the Chief of the Upper Current of the River took a cup and scooped up a little of the sea-water with it, drank a few drops, and said: "In the sea-water itself there is no harm. It is some of the rivers flowing into it that are poisonous. Do you, therefore, first close the mouths of all the rivers both in Aino-land and in j.a.pan, and prevent them from flowing into the sea, and then I will undertake to drink the sea dry." Hereupon the Chief of the Mouth of the River felt ashamed, acknowledged his error, and gave all his treasures to his rival.

Such an idea as this of first "stopping the rivers" might well have been conceived independently by different peoples, but surely not by such a race so low in the scale of humanity as the Ainos, who must have got the story from the j.a.panese, who in their turn probably derived it from some Indian-Buddhist source--perhaps a version of the Book of Sindibad. Of course, the several European versions and variants have been copied out of one book into another, and independent invention is out of the question.

IGNORANCE OF THE CLERGY IN THE MIDDLE AGES.

_Orl._ Whom ambles Time withal?

_Ros._ With a priest that lacks Latin; for he sleeps easily, because he cannot study, lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning.--_As You Like It_.

During the 7th and 8th centuries the state of letters throughout Christian Europe was so low that very few of the bishops could compose their own discourses, and some of those Church dignitaries thought it no shame to publicly acknowledge their inability to write their own names.

Numerous instances occur in the Acts of the Councils of Ephesus and Chalcedon of an inscription in these words: "I, ----, have subscribed by the hand of ----, because I cannot write"; and such a bishop having thus confessed that he could not write, there followed: "I, ----, whose name is underwritten, have therefore subscribed for him."

Alfred the Great--who was twelve years of age before a tutor could be found competent to teach him the alphabet--complained, towards the close of the 9th century, that "from the Humber to the Thames there was not a priest who understood the liturgy in his mother-tongue, or could translate the easiest piece of Latin"; and a correspondent of Abelard, about the middle of the 12th century, complimenting him upon a resort to him of pupils from all countries, says that "even Britain, distant as she is, sends her savages to be instructed by you."

Henri Etienne, in the Introduction to his Apology for Herodotus,[148]

says that "the most brutish and blockish ignorance was to be found in friars' cowls, especially ma.s.s-mongering priests, which we are the less to wonder at, considering that which Menot twits them in the teeth withal, that instead of books there was nothing to be found in their chambers but a sword, or a long-bow, or a cross-bow, or some such weapon. But how could they send _ad ordos_ such ignorant a.s.ses? You must note, sir, that they which examined them were as wise as woodc.o.c.ks themselves, and therefore judged of them as penmen of pikemen and blind men of colours. Or were it that they had so much learning in their budgets as that they could make a shift to know their inefficiency, yet to pleasure those that recommended them they suffered them to pa.s.s. One is famous among the rest, who being asked by the bishop sitting at the table: 'Es tu dignus?' answered, 'No, my Lord, but I shall dine anon with your men.' For he thought that _dignus_ (that is, worthy) signified to dine."

[148] This is a work distinct from Henri Etienne's _Apologia pour Herodote_. An English translation of it was published at London in 1807, and at Edinburgh in 1808, under the t.i.tle of "_A World of Wonders_; or, an Introduction to a Treatise touching the Conformitie of Ancient and Modern Wonders; or, a Preparative Treatise to the Apology for Herodotus," etc. For this book (the "Introduction") Etienne had to quit France, fearing the wrath of the clerics. His _Apologie pour Herodote_ has not been rendered into English--and why not, it would be hard to say.

Etienne gives another example, which, however, belongs rather to the cla.s.s of simpleton stories: A young man going to the bishop for admission into holy orders, to test his _learning_, was asked by the prelate, "Who was the father of the Four Sons of Aymon?"[149] and not knowing what answer to make, this promising candidate was refused as inefficient. Returning home, and explaining why he had not been ordained, his father told him that he must be an a.s.s if he could not tell who was the father of the four sons of Aymon. "See, I pray thee,"

quoth he, "yonder is Great John, the smith, who has four sons; if a man should ask thee who was their father, wouldst thou not say it was Great John, the smith?" "Yes," said the brilliant youth; "now I understand it." Thereupon he went again before the bishop, and being asked a second time, "Who was the father of the Four Sons of Aymon?" he promptly replied: "Great John, the smith."[150]

[149] One of the Charlemagne Romances, translated by Caxton from the French, and printed by him about the year 1489, under the t.i.tle of _The Right Pleasaunt and Goodly Historie of the Four Sonnes of Aymon_. It has been reprinted for the Early English Text Society, ably edited by Miss Octavia Richardson.

[150] A slightly different version is found in _A Hundred Mery Talys_, No. lxix, "Of the franklyns sonne that cam to take orders." The bishop says that Noah had three sons, Shem, Ham, and j.a.pheth;--who was the father of j.a.pheth?

When the "scholar" returns home and tells his father how he had been puzzled by the bishop, he endeavours to enlighten his son thus: "Here is Colle, my dog, that hath three whelps; must not these three whelps have Colle for their sire?" Going back to the bishop, he informs his lordship that the father of j.a.pheth was "Colle, my father's dogge."

The same author asks who but the churchmen of those days of ignorance corrupted and perverted the text of the New Testament? Thus, in the parable of the lost piece of money, _evert.i.t domum_, "she overturned the house," was subst.i.tuted for _everrit domum_, "she _swept_ the house."

And in the Acts of the Apostles, where Saul (or Paul) is described as being let down from the house on the wall of Damascus in a basket, for _demissus per sportam_ was subst.i.tuted _demissus per portam_, a correction which called forth a rather witty Latin epigram to this effect:

This way the other day did pa.s.s As jolly a carpenter as ever was; So strangely skilful in his trade, That of a _basket_ a _door_ he made.

Among the many curious anecdotes told in ill.u.s.tration of the gross ignorance of the higher orders of the clergy in medieval times the two following are not the least amusing:

About the year 1330 Louis Beaumont was bishop of Durham. He was an extremely illiterate French n.o.bleman, so incapable of reading that he could not, although he had studied them, read the bulls announced to the people at his consecration. During that ceremony the word "metropoliticae" occurred. The bishop paused, and tried in vain to repeat it, and at last remarked: "Suppose that said." Then he came to "enigmate," which also puzzled him. "By St. Louis!" he exclaimed in indignation, "it could be no gentleman who wrote that stuff!"

Our second anecdote is probably more generally known: Andrew Forman, who was bishop of Moray and papal legate for Scotland, at an entertainment given by him at Rome to the Pope and cardinals, blundered so in his Latinity when he said grace that his Holiness and the cardinals lost their gravity. The disconcerted bishop concluded his blessing by giving "a' the fause carles to the de'il," to which the company, not understanding his Scotch Latinity, said "Amen!"

When such was the condition of the bishops, it is not surprising to find that few of the ordinary priests were acquainted with even the rudiments of the Latin tongue, and they consequently mumbled over ma.s.ses which they did not understand. A rector of a parish, we are told, going to law with his parishioners about paving the church, cited these words, _Paveant illi, non paveam ego_, which, ascribing them to St. Peter, he thus construed: "They are to pave the church, not I"--and this was allowed to be good law by a judge who was himself an ecclesiastic.

We have an amusing example of the ignorance of the lower orders of churchmen during the "dark ages" in No. xii of _A Hundred Mery Talys_, as follows: "The archdekyn of Ess.e.x, that had ben longe in auctorite, in a tyme of vysytacyon, whan all the prestys apperyd before hym, called aside iii. of the yonge prestys which were acusyd that th[e]y could not wel say theyr dyvyne service, and askyd of them, when they sayd mas, whether they sayd corpus meus or corpum meum. The fyrst prest sayde that he sayd corpus meus. The second sayd that he sayd corpum meum. And than he asked of the thyrd how he sayde; whyche answered and sayd thus: Sir, because it is so great a dout, and dyvers men be in dyvers opynyons, therfore, because I wolde be sure I wolde not offende, whan I come to the place I leve it clene out and say nothynge therfore. Wherfore the bysshoppe than openly rebuked them all thre. But dyvers that were present thought more defaut in hym, because he hym selfe beforetyme had admytted them to be prestys." And a.s.suredly they were right in so thinking, and the worthy archdeacon (or bishop, as he is also styled), who had probably pa.s.sed the three young men "for value received" from their fathers, should have refrained from publicly examining them afterwards.

The covetousness and irreverence of the churchmen in former times are well exemplified in another tale given in the same old jest-book, No.

lxxi, which, with spelling modernised, goes thus: "Sometime there dwelled a priest in Stratford-on-Avon, of small learning, which undevoutly sang ma.s.s and oftentimes twice on one day. So it happened on a time, after his second ma.s.s was done in short s.p.a.ce, not a mile from Stratford there met him divers merchantmen, which would have heard ma.s.s, and desired him to sing ma.s.s and he should have a groat, which answered them and said: 'Sirs, I will say ma.s.s no more this day; but I will say you two gospels for one groat, and that is dog-cheap for a ma.s.s in any place in England.'" The story-teller does not inform us whether the pious merchants accepted of the business-like compromise offered by "Ma.s.s John."

Hagiolatry was quite as much in vogue among the priesthood in medieval times as mariolatry has since been the special characteristic of the Romish Church, to the subordination (one might almost say, the suppression) of the only true object of worship; in proof of which, here is a droll anecdote from another early English collection, _Mery Tales, Wittie Questions, and Quicke Answeres, very pleasant to be readde_ (No.

cxix): "A friar, preaching to the people, extolled Saint Francis above [all] confessors, doctors, virgins, martyrs, prophets--yea, and above one more than prophets, John the Baptist, and finally above the seraphical order of angels; and still he said, 'Yet let us go higher.'

So when he could go no farther, except he should put Christ out of his place, which the good man was half afraid to do, he said aloud, 'And yet we have found no fit place for him.' And, staying a little while, he cried out at last, saying, 'Where shall we place the holy father?' A froward fellow standing among the audience,[151] said, 'If thou canst find none other, then set him here in my place, for I am weary,' and so he went his way."--This "froward fellow's" unexpected reply will doubtless remind the reader of the old man's remark in the mosque, about the "calling of Noah," _ante_, pp. 66, 67.[152]

[151] There were no pews in the churches in those "good old times."

[152] _Apropos_ of saint-worship, quaint old Thomas Fuller relates a droll story in his _Church History_, ed. 1655, p. 278: A countryman who had lived many years in the Hercinian woods, in Germany, at last came into a populous city, demanding of the people therein, what G.o.d they did worship. They answered him, that they worshipped Jesus Christ. Whereupon the wild wood-man asked the names of the several churches in the city, which were all called by sundry saints, to whom they were consecrated. "It is strange," said he, "that you should worship Jesus Christ, and he not have a temple in all the city dedicated to him."

Probably not less than one third of the jests current in Europe in the 16th century turned on the ignorance of the Romish clergy--such, for instance, as that of the illiterate priest who, finding _salta per tria_ (skip over three leaves) written at the foot of a page in his ma.s.s-book, deliberately jumped down three of the steps before the altar, to the great astonishment of the congregation; or that of another who, finding the t.i.tle of the day's service indicated only by the abbreviation _Re._, read the ma.s.s of the Requiem instead of the service of the Resurrection; or that of yet another, who being so illiterate as to be unable to p.r.o.nounce readily the long words in his ritual always omitted them, and p.r.o.nounced the word Jesus, which he said was much more devotional.

There is a diverting tale of a foolish cure of Brou, which is well worthy of reproduction, in _Les Contes; ou, les Nouvelles Recreations et Joyeux Devis_, by Bonaventure des Periers--one of the best story-books of the 16th century (Bonaventure succeeded the celebrated poet Clement Marot as _valet-de-chambre_ to Margaret, queen of Navarre):

It happened that a lady of rank and importance, on her way to Chateaudun to keep there the festival of Easter, pa.s.sed through Brou on Good Friday, about ten o'clock in the morning, and, wishing to hear service, she went into the church. When the cure came to the Pa.s.sion he said it in his own peculiar manner, and made the whole church ring when he said, "_Quem, quaeritis_?" But when it came to the reply, "_Jesum, Nazarenum_,"[153] he spoke as low as he possibly could, and in this manner he continued the Pa.s.sion. The lady, who was very devout and, for a woman, well-informed, in the Holy Scriptures [the reader will understand this was early in the 16th century], and attentive to ecclesiastical ceremonies, felt scandalised at this mode of chanting, and wished that she had never entered the church. She had a mind to speak to the cure, and tell him what she thought of it, and for this purpose sent for him to come to her after service. When he was come, "Monsieur le Cure," she said to him, "I don't know where you have learned to officiate on a day like this, when the people ought to be all humility. But to hear you perform the service is enough to drive away anybody's devotion." "How so, madame?" said the cure. "How so?"

responded the lady. "You have said a Pa.s.sion contrary to all rules of decency. When our Lord speaks you cry as if you were in the town-hall, and when it is Caiaphas, or Pilate, or the Jews, you speak softly like a young bride. Is this becoming in one like you? Are you fit to be a cure?

If you had what you deserve, you would be turned out of your benefice, and then you would be made to know your fault." When the cure had very attentively listened to the good lady, "Is this what you have to say to me, madame?" said he. "By my soul! it is very true what you say, and the truth is, there are many people who talk of things which they do not understand. Madame, I believe I know my office as well as another, and beg all the world to know that G.o.d is as well served in this parish according to its condition as in any place within a hundred leagues of it. I know very well that the other cures chant the Pa.s.sion quite differently. I could easily chant it like them if I would; but they don't understand their business at all. I should like to know if it becomes those rogues of Jews to speak as loud as our Lord? No, no, madame; rest a.s.sured that in my parish it is my will that G.o.d be master, and he shall be as long as I live, and let others do in their parishes according to their understanding."

[153] "Jesus, therefore, knowing all things that should come upon him, went forth, and said unto them, 'Whom seek ye?' They answered him, 'Jesus of Nazareth.'"--_Gospel of S. John_, xviii, 4, 5.

This is another of Des Periers' comical tales at the expense of the clerical orders: There was a priest of a village who was as proud as might be because he had seen a little more than his Cato. And this made him set up his feathers and talk very grand, using words that filled his mouth in order to make people think him a great doctor. Even at confession he made use of terms which astonished the poor people. One day he was confessing a poor working man, of whom he asked: "Here, now, my friend, tell me, art thou not ambitious?" The poor man said, "No,"

thinking this was a word which belonged to great lords, and almost repented of having come to confess to this priest; for he had already heard that he was such a great clerk and that he spoke so grandly that n.o.body understood him, which he knew by the word _ambitious_; for although he might have heard it somewhere, yet he knew not at all what it meant. The priest went on to ask: "Art thou not a gourmand?" Said the labourer, who understood as little as before: "No." "Art thou not superbe" [proud]? "No." "Art thou not iracund" [pa.s.sionate]? "No." The priest, seeing the man always answer, "No," was somewhat surprised. "Art thou not concupiscent?" "No." "And what are thou, then?" said the priest. "I am," said he, "a mason--here's my trowel."

Readers acquainted with the _fabliaux_ of the minstrels (the Trouveres) of Northern France know that those light-hearted gentry very often launched their satirical shafts at the churchmen of their day. One of the _fabliaux_ in Barbazan's collection relates how a doltish, thick-headed priest was officiating in his church on Good Friday, and when about to read the service for that day he discovered that he had lost his book-mark ("_mais il ot perdu ses festuz_.")[154] Then he began to go back and turn over the leaves, but until Ascension Day he found not the Pa.s.sion service. And the a.s.sembled peasants fretted and complained that he made them fast too long, since it was time for the festival. "Had he but said them the service," interjects the _fableur_, "should I make you a longer story?" So much did they grumble on all sides, that the priest began on them and fell to saying very rapidly, first in a loud and then in a low tone of voice, "_Dixit Dominus Domino meo_" (the Lord said unto my Lord); "but," says the _fableur_, "I cannot find here any sequel." The priest having read the text as chance might lead him, read the vespers for Sunday;--and you must know he travailed hard, that the offerings should be worth something to him. Then he fell to crying, "Barabbas!"--no crier could have cried a ban so loud as he cried to them; and everyone began to confess his sins aloud (i.e., struck up "_mea culpa_") and cried, "Mercy!" The priest, who read on the sequence of his Psalter, once more began to cry out, saying, "Crucify him!" So that both men and women prayed G.o.d that he would defend them from torment. But it sorely vexed the clerk, who said to the priest, "Make an end"; but he answered, "Make no end, friend, till 'unto the marvellous works'"--referring to a pa.s.sage in the Psalter. The clerk then said that a long Pa.s.sion service boots nothing, and that it is never a gain to keep the people too long. And as soon as the offerings of the people were collected he finished the Pa.s.sion.--"By this tale,"

adds the _raconteur_, "I would show you how--by the faith of Saint Paul!--it as well befits a fool to talk folly and sottishness as it becomes a wise man to speak wisely. And he is a fool who believes me not."[155]--A commentary, this, which recalls the old English saying, that "it is as great marvel to see a woman weep as to see a goose go barefoot."

[154] _Festueum_, the split straw so used in the Middle Ages.

[155] See Meon's edition of Barbazan's _Fabliaux et Contes_, ed. 1808, tome ii, p. 442, and a prose _extrait_ in Le Grand d'Aussy's collection, ed. 1781, tome iv, p. 101, "Du Pretre qui dit la Pa.s.sion."

They were bold fellows, those Trouveres. Not content with making the ignorance and the gross vices of the clerical orders the subjects of their _fabliaux_, they did not scruple to ridicule their superst.i.tious teachings, as witness the satire on saint-worship, ent.i.tled "Du vilain [i.e., peasant] qui conquist Paradis par plait," the substance of which is as follows: A poor peasant dies suddenly, and his soul escapes at a moment when neither angel nor demon was on the watch, so that, unclaimed and left to his own discretion, the peasant follows St. Peter, who happened to be on his way to Paradise, and enters the gate with him unperceived. When the saint finds that the soul of such a low person has found its way into Paradise he is angry, and rudely orders the peasant out. But the latter accuses St. Peter of denying his Saviour, and, conscience-stricken, the gate-keeper of heaven applies to St. Thomas, who undertakes to drive away the intruder. The peasant, however, disconcerts St. Thomas by reminding him of his disbelief, and St. Paul, who comes next, fares no better--he had persecuted the saints. At length Christ hears of what had occurred, and comes himself. The Saviour listens benignantly to the poor soul's pleading, and ends by forgiving the peasant his sins, and allowing him to remain in Paradise.[156]

[156] See Meon's Barbazan, 1808, tome iv, p. 114; also Le Grand, 1781, tome ii, p. 190: "Du Vilain qui gagna Paradis en plaidant."

There exists a very singular English burlesque of the unprofitable sermons of the preaching friars in the Middle Ages, which is worthy of Rabelais himself, and of which this is a modernised extract: