by Charles Swan
APPLICATION.
My beloved, the vine manured with the blood of animals indicates its effects. The blood of the lion produces anger; that of the lamb, shame; of the pig, filthiness; of the monkey, idle curiosity and foolish joy.
* “Id est labruscam [vitem]; à labris terræ et viarum dictam.” That is, I suppose, the hedges and outskirts of woods. Strange etymology!
† Perhaps it was alluding to this fancy that Webster, in his White Devil, observes,
“As in cold countries husbandmen plant vines,
And with warm blood manure them, even so,” &c.
‡ “I know not of any book of Josephus on this subject. The first editor of the Latin Josephus was Ludovicus Cendrata, of Verona, who was ignorant that he was publishing a modern translation.”—“The substance of this chapter is founded on a rabbinical tradition related by Fabricius.1 When Noah planted the vine, Satan attended, and sacrificed a sheep, a lion, an ape, and a sow. These animals were to symbolize the gradations of ebriety. When a man begins to drink, he is meek and ignorant as the lamb, then becomes bold as the lion; his courage is soon transformed into the foolishness of the ape, and at last he wallows in the mire like a sow. Chaucer hence says, in the MANCIPLES PROLOGUE, as the passage is justly corrected by Mr. Tyrwhitt—
‘I trowe that ye have dronken wine of ape,
And that is when men plaien at a strawe.’
In the old KALENDRIER DES BERGERS, as Mr. Tyrwhitt has remarked, Vin de singe, vin de mouton, vin de lyon, and vin de porceau, are mentioned in their respective operations on the four temperaments of the human body.”—WARTON.
COD. PSEUDEPIGR. VET. TESTAM. vol. i. p. 275.
TALE CLX.
OF THE SEDUCTIONS OF THE DEVIL.
IT often happens that the devils transform themselves into angels of light, in order to foster in human hearts whatever is fiendish. In proof of which, a most remarkable instance is subjoined.
When Valentine filled the episcopal see of Arles,* there stood on the outskirts of the diocese a castle, the lady of which invariably quitted church before the celebration of mass, for she could not bear to look on the consecration of our Lord’s body. This peculiarity gave her husband much uneasiness, and he determined to ascertain the reason of so singular a proceeding. On a certain day, the gospel being ended, she was about to retire, when, after much violent struggling, she was forcibly detained by her husband and his attendants. The priest then continued the service, and at the instant that he proceeded to consecration, the lady, borne along by a diabolical spirit, flew away, carrying along with her a portion of the chapel, and was seen no more in those regions: and part of the very tower is yet standing, in testimony of the truth of the above relation. † (31)
APPLICATION.
My beloved, the castle is the world; and the lord of it, a discreet confessor.
* A town in France.
† [This is as good a proof of veracity as that offered by Smith the weaver for the validity of Jack Cade’s claims to be the grandson of Edmund Mortimer. Cade having asserted that his father was stolen by a beggar-woman when young, and brought up as a bricklayer, ignorant of his noble birth, Smith adds: “Sir, he made a chimney in my father’s house, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it; therefore, deny it not” (Second Part of Henry VI., Act iv. Sc. 2).—ED.]
TALE CLXI.
OF GRATITUDE TO GOD.
IN the kingdom of England there is a hillock in the midst of a thick wood, about the height of a man. Thither knights and other followers of the chase were accustomed to ascend, when they suffered much from heat and thirst, and sought eagerly for relief. From the nature of the place, and the circumstances of their occupation, each ascended the hill alone; and each, as if addressing some other, would say, “I thirst.” Immediately, beyond expectation, there started from the side one with a cheerful countenance and an outstretched hand, bearing a large horn ornamented with gold and precious stones, such as we are still in the habit of using instead of a cup, and full of the most exquisite, but unknown, beverage. This he presented to the thirsty person; and no sooner had he drank, than the heat and lassitude abated. One would not then have thought that he had been engaged in labour, but that he was desirous of commencing an arduous employment. After the liquor had been taken, the attendant presented a clean napkin to wipe the mouth. His ministry completed, he disappeared, without awaiting recompense, or permitting inquiry. He did this daily, and, aged as he seemed to be, his pace was singularly rapid. At last, a certain knight went to these parts for the purpose of hunting; and a draught being demanded, and the horn brought, instead of restoring it to the industrious skinker* as custom and urbanity required, he’ retained it for his own use. But the knight’s feudal lord, ascertaining the truth of this matter, condemned the plunderer; and presented the horn to Henry the Elder,† king of England, lest he himself should be held a partaker in the crime. ‡
APPLICATION.
My beloved, the mountain is the kingdom of heaven; the forest is the world. The hunter is any worldly-minded man. The thirst and heat are divine love; the horn, mercy, which is filled at the fountain of benevolence. He who bore it is Christ; and the napkin is confession.
* [See Shakespeare, First Part of Henry IV., Act ii. Sc. 4.—ED.]
† Henry I. according to Warton.
‡ “This story, which seems imperfect, I suppose, is from Gervase of Tilbury.”—WARTON.
“The drinking vessels of the northern nations were the HORNS of animals, of their natural length, only tipt with silver, &c. In York Minster is preserved one of these ancient drinking-vessels, composed of a large elephant’s tooth, of its natural dimensions, ornamented with sculpture, &c. See Drake’s Hist.”—BISHOP PEROY.
TALE CLXII.
OF AVOIDING IMPRECATIONS.
GERVASE of Tilbury* relates to Otto,† the Roman emperor, a very remarkable occurrence, but at the same time full of excellent advice, and affording a reason for caution to the reckless.
There was in the bishopric of Girona, in Catalonia, a very high mountain, whose ascent was extremely arduous, and, except in one place, inaccessible. On the summit was an unfathomable lake of black water. Here also stood, as it is reported, a palace of demons, with a large gate continually closed; but the palace itself, as well as its inhabitants, existed in invisibility. If any one cast a stone or other hard substance into this lake, the demons exhibited their anger by furious storms. In one part of the mountain was perpetual snow and ice; here there was abundance of crystal, and the sun never was seen. At its foot flowed a river, whose sands were of gold; and the precious metal thus obtained was denominated by the vulgar its cloak. The mountain itself, and the parts adjacent, furnished silver; and its unexhaustible fertility was not the least surprising of its peculiarities.
Not far from hence lived a certain farmer, who one day-being much occupied with domestic matters, and troubled exceedingly by the incessant squalling of his little girl, at length, after the manner of people when angry, wished his infant at the devil. This incautious desire was scarcely uttered, ere the girl was seized by an invisible hand, and carried off. Seven years afterwards, a person journeying at the foot of the mountain near the farmer’s dwelling, distinguished a man hurrying along at a prodigious rate, and uttering in the most doleful tones, “Alas! for me, wretched man! what shall I do to get rid of this huge load?” The traveller stopped to inquire the occasion; and was told that, for the space of seven years last past, he had been committed to the custody of the demons upon that mountain, who daily made use of him as a chariot, in consequence of an unwary exclamation to that effect. The traveller, startled at an assertion so extraordinary, and a little incredulous, was informed that his neighbour had suffered in a similar degree; for that, having hastily committed his daughter to their power, they had instantly borne her off. He added that the demons, weary of instructing the girl, would willingly restore her, provided the father presented himself on the mountain and there received her.
The auditor, thunder-struck at this communication, doubted whether he should conceal things so incredible, or relate what he had heard. He determined, at last, to declare the girl’s situation to her father; and hastening, accordingly, found him still bewailing the lengthened absence of his daughter. Ascertaining the cause, he went on to state what he had heard from the man whom the devils used as a chariot: “Therefore,” said he, “I recommend you, attesting the Divine name, to demand of these devils the restitution of your daughter.” Amazed at what was imparted to him, the father deliberated upon the best method of proceeding and finally pursued the counsel of the traveller. Ascending the mountain, he passed forward to the lake, and adjured the demons to restore the girl whom his folly had committed to them. Suddenly a violent blast swept by him, and a girl of lofty stature stood in his presence. Her eyes were wild and wandering, and her bones and sinews were scarcely covered with skin. Her horrible countenance discovered no sign of sensibility; and, ignorant of all language, she scarcely could be acknowledged for a human being. The father, wondering at her strange appearance, and doubtful whether she should be taken to his own home or not, posted to the bishop of Girona, and, with a sorrowful aspect, detailed what had befallen him; at the same time requesting his advice. The bishop, as a religious man, and one intrusted with a charge of so much importance, narrated every circumstance respecting the girl to his diocese. He warned them against rashly committing their fortunes to the power of demons, and showed that OUT adversary the devil, as a raging lion, goeth about seeking whom he may devour; that he will slay those who are given to him, and hold them in eternal bonds, and torment and afflict those devoted to him for a time.
The man who was used by the devils as a chariot, remained a long time in this miserable situation; but his subsequent faith and discretion emancipated him. He stated that near the above-mentioned place there was an extensive subterranean palace, whose entrance was by a single gate, enveloped in the thickest darkness. Through this portal the devils, who had been on embassies to various parts of the world, returned, and communicated to their fellows what they had done. No one could tell of what the palace was constructed, save themselves, and those who passed under their yoke to eternal damnation. From all which, my beloved, we may gather the dangers we are exposed to, and how cautious we should be of invoking the devil to our assistance, as well as of committing our family to his power. Let us guard our hearts, and beware that he catch not up the sinful soul, and plunge it into the lake of everlasting misery; where there is snow and ice unthawed—crystal, that reflects the awakened and agonized conscience, perpetually burning with immortal fire.
* “Whenever our compiler quotes Gervase of Tilbury the reference is to his OTIA IMPERLALIA: which is addressed to the Emperor Otho the Fourth, and contains his Commentarius de regnis Imperatorum Romanorum, his Mundi Description and his Tractatus de Mirabilibus Mundi. All these four have been improperly supposed to be separate works.”—WARTON.
† i.e. OTHO.
TALE CLXIII.
OF EXTREME FEAR.
ALEXANDER had an only son, called Celestinus, whom he loved with the utmost tenderness. He desired to have him well instructed, and sending for a certain philosopher, said, “Sir, instruct my son, and I will bountifully remunerate you.” The philosopher acquiesced, and took the boy home with him. He diligently performed his duty; and it happened that one day, entering a meadow with his pupil, they perceived a horse lying on the ground, grievously affected with the mange. Near the animal two sheep were tied together, which busily cropped the grass that grew in abundance around them. It so chanced that the sheep were on each side of the horse, and the cord with which they were bound passed over his back and, chafing the sores, galled him exceedingly. Disturbed by this circumstance, he got up; but the cord, then loaded with the weight of the sheep, afflicted him more and more; and, filled with fury, he began to run off at a great speed, dragging along the unfortunate sheep. And in equal proportion to their resistance was the augmentation of the horse’s suffering. For the cord, having worn itself into a hollow, sunk, at every struggle, yet deeper into the wound.
Adjoining the meadow was the house of a miller, toward which the horse, impelled by the anguish of his wound, galloped, and entered, with the sheep hanging as we have said. The house was then unoccupied; but there was a fire burning upon the hearth, and the quadruped, plunging and striking with his hoofs, so scattered the fire that the flame caught hold of the building, and reduced it to ashes, together with the horse and the sheep. “Young man,” said the preceptor to his pupil, “you have perceived the beginning, the middle, and the completion of this incident: make me some correct verses upon it, and show me who is responsible for the burning of the house. Unless you do this, I assure you I will punish you severely.” Celestinus, during the absence of his master, applied himself diligently to study, but he was unable to execute his task. This much troubled him; and the devil met him in the likeness of a man, and said, “My son, what has made you so sorrowful ?”
Celest. Never mind; it is no use telling you.
Devil. Yon know not that; tell me, and I will help you.
Celest. I am charged, under a heavy punishment, to make some verses about a scabby horse and two sheep, and I don’t know how.
Devil. Young man, I am the devil in a human form, and the best poet that ever lived: care nothing about your master, but promise to serve me faithfully, and I will compose such delectable verses for you that they shall excel those of your pedagogue himself.
Celestinus gave his word to serve him faithfully if he fulfilled his engagement. The devil then produced the following verses:—
Bound by a thong, that passed along
A horse’s mangy hide,
Two sheep there lay, as I you say,*
One upon either side.
The steed uprose, and upward goes
Each sheep with dangling breech;
Borne by the horse’s rapid course,
The miller’s hut they reach.
Scattering the fire with reckless ire,
The rafters caught the flame;
And bleating breed and scabby steed
Were roasted in the same.
Now had that wight, that miller hight,
Vouchsafed his house to keep:
Ere he returned it had not burned,
Nor burned his horse and sheep. †
The boy, made happy by the present, returned home.
Master. My child, have you stolen your verses, or made them ?
Celest. I made them, sir.
He then read what we have given above; and the master, struck with the greatest astonishment at their uncommon beauty, exclaimed, “My dear boy, tell me if any one made these verses for you ?”
Celest. No, sir; no one did.
Master. Unless you tell me the truth, I will flog you till the blood run.
The lad, fearful of what might follow, declared all that had occurred, and how he had bound himself to the devil. The preceptor, grieved at the communication, induced the youth to confess himself and renounce this fearful confederacy. When this was done he became a holy man, and, after a well-spent life, gave up his soul to God.
APPLICATION.
My beloved, the king is Christ; the philosopher, any prelate; the mangy horse, a sinner covered with sins. The two sheep are two preachers bound by the cord of charity; the miller’s house is the world; and the fire, detraction.
* i.e. As I tell you ; or, say to you.
“He said, ‘Madam, have good day!
Sekerly, as I you say.’”—Romance of Sir Isumbras.
† As these are probably the only verses on record of the devil’s composition (at least, so well authenticated), I cannot do less than transcribe them for the edification of the curious:—
“Nexus ovem binam, per spinam traxit equinam;
Læsus surgit equus, pendet utrumque pecus.
Ad molendinum, pondus portabat equinum,
Dispergendo focum, se cremat atque locum
.
Custodes aberant singula damna ferant.”
TALE CLXIV.
OF THE PERVERSITY OF THE WORLD.
WE read in a certain book of a conversation between Jesus Christ and St. Peter. “I saw,” said the latter, “five men whom I thought madmen. The first ate the sand of the sea so greedily, that it slipped through his jaws on either side of the mouth. Another I observed standing upon a pit full of sulphur and pitch, of which the smell was intolerable; yet he strove earnestly to inhale it. The third lay upon a burning furnace, whose heat was not enough; he endeavoured to catch the sparks emitted from the furnace that he might eat them. A fourth sat upon a pinnacle of the temple, in order to catch the wind. For this purpose he held his mouth open. The fifth devoured whatsoever of his own members he could get into his mouth, and laughed incessantly at every other man. Many beheld these five men, and much wondered why they did these things.”
APPLICATION.
My beloved, the first of these men represents the covetous; the second, the gluttonous and luxurious; the third, the rich and honourable ; the fourth, the hypocrites; and the fifth are the calumniators of the good.
TALE CLXV.
