Wine, Women, and Song Part 4

The chief part of the song is devoted to a description of the comprehensive nature of the Order, which receives all sorts and conditions of men, and makes no distinction of nationality. The habitual poverty of its members, their favourite pastimes and vices, their love of gaming and hatred of early rising, are set forth with some humour.

ON THE ORDER OF WANDERING STUDENTS.

No. 1.

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 t.i.the and due Unto your subsistence.

Marquesses, Bavarians, Austrians and Saxons, n.o.blemen and chiefs of clans, Glorious by your actions!

Listen, comrades all, I pray, To these new decretals: Misers they must meet decay, n.i.g.g.ardly 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'd rather sc.r.a.pe a fat Dish in gravy swimming, Than in sooth to marvel at Barns with barley br.i.m.m.i.n.g.

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 pa.s.s 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 art 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 banners; 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."

The next song is a lament for the decay of the Order and the suppression of its privileges. It was written, to all appearances, at a later date, and is inferior in style. The Goliardi had already, we learn from it, exchanged poverty for luxury. Instead of tramping on the hard hoof, they moved with a retinue of mounted servants. We seem to trace in the lament a change from habits of simple vagabondage to professional dependence, as minstrels and secretaries, upon men of rank in Church and State, which came over the Goliardic cla.s.s. This poem, it may be mentioned, does not occur in the _Carmina Burana_, nor is it included among those which bear the name of Walter Mapes or Map.

ON THE DECAY OF THE ORDER.

No. 2.

Once (it was in days of yore) This our order flourished; Popes, whom Cardinals adore, It with honours nourished; Licences desirable They gave, nought desiring; While our prayers, the beads we tell, Served us for our hiring.

Now this order (so time runs) Is made tributary; With the ruck of Adam's sons We must draw and carry; Ground by common serfdom down, By our debts confounded, Debts to market-place and town With the Jews compounded.

Once ('twas when the simple state Of our order lasted) All men praised us, no man's hate Harried us or wasted; Rates and taxes on our crew There was none to levy; But the sect, douce men and true, Served G.o.d in a bevy.

Now some envious folks, who spy Sumptuous equipages, Horses, litters pa.s.sing by, And a host of pages, Say, "Unless their purses were Quite with wealth o'erflowing, They could never thus, I swear, Round about be going!"

Such men do not think nor own How with toil we bend us, Not to feed ourselves alone, But the folk who tend us: On all comers, all who come, We our substance lavish, Therefore 'tis a trifling sum For ourselves we ravish.

On this subject, at this time, What we've said suffices: Let us leave it, lead the rhyme Back to our devices: We the miseries of this life Bear with cheerful spirit, That Heaven's bounty after strife We may duly merit.

'Tis a sign that G.o.d the Lord Will not let us perish, Since with scourge and rod and sword He our souls doth cherish; He amid this vale of woes Makes us bear the burden, That true joys in heaven's repose May be ours for guerdon.

Next in order to these poems, which display the Wandering Students as a cla.s.s, I will produce two that exhibit their mode of life in detail.

The first is a begging pet.i.tion, addressed by a scholar on the tramp to the great man of the place where he is staying. The name of the place, as I have already noticed, is only indicated by an N. The nasal whine of a suppliant for alms, begging, as Erasmus begged, not in the name of charity, but of learning, makes itself heard both in the rhyme and rhythm of the original Latin. I have tried to follow the sing-song doggerel.

A WANDERING STUDENT'S PEt.i.tION.

No. 3.

I, a wandering scholar lad, Born for toil and sadness, Oftentimes am driven by Poverty to madness.

Literature and knowledge I Fain would still be earning, Were it not that want of pelf Makes me cease from learning.

These torn clothes that cover me Are too thin and rotten; Oft I have to suffer cold, By the warmth forgotten.

Scarce I can attend at church, Sing G.o.d's praises duly; Ma.s.s and vespers both I miss, Though I love them truly.

Oh, thou pride of N----, By thy worth I pray thee Give the suppliant help in need, Heaven will sure repay thee.

Take a mind unto thee now Like unto St. Martin; Clothe the pilgrim's nakedness, Wish him well at parting.

So may G.o.d translate your soul Into peace eternal, And the bliss of saints be yours In His realm supernal.

The second is a jovial _Song of the Open Road_, throbbing with the exhilaration of young life and madcap impudence. We must imagine that two vagabond students are drinking together before they part upon their several ways. One addresses the other as _frater catholice, vir apostolice_, vows to befriend him, and expounds the laws of loyalty which bind the brotherhood together. To the rest of the world they are a terror and a nuisance. Honest folk are jeeringly forbidden to beware of the _quadrivium_, which is apt to form a fourfold rogue instead of a scholar in four branches of knowledge.

The Latin metre is so light, careless, and airy, that I must admit an almost complete failure to do it justice in my English version. The refrain appears intended to imitate a bugle-call.