Gesta Romanorum

by Charles Swan

  NOTE 5. Page 56.

  This figment is clearly Eastern. There is a similar story in the veritable Voyages and Travels of Sir John Mandevile:—

  “There was a man that was called Catolonapes, he was ful rich, and had a fair castle on a hill, and strong, and he made a wal all about ye hill right strong and fayre, within he had a fair gardeine wherin were many trees bearing all maner of fruits yt he might fynd, and he had planted therin al maner of herbs of good smel and that bare flowers, and ther wer many faire wels, and by them wer made many hals and chambers wel dight wt gold and asure, and he had made there dyverse stories of beastes and birds ye song and turned by engin and orbage as they had been quick, and he had in his gardeine al thing that might be to man solace and comfort, he had also in that gardeine maydens within ye age of xv yeare, the fairest yt he myght find, and men children of the same age, and they were clothed with cloth of gold, and he said that they were aungels, and he caused to be made certain hils and enclosed them about wt precious stones of jasper and christal, and set in gold and pearls, and other maner of stones, and he had made a condute1 under ye earth, so that whan he wold ye wals ran sometime with milke, sometime with wine, sometime with honey, and this place is called Paradise, and when any yong bachelor of the countrey, knight or sqyer, cometh to him for solace and disport, he ledeth them into his paradise, and sheweth them these things as the songs of birds, and his damosels, and wels; and he did strike diuerse instruments of musyke, in a high tower that might be heard, and sayd they were aungels of god, and that place was paradise, that god hath graunted to those that beleued, when he sayd thus: Dabo vobis terram fluentem lacte et melle; that is to say, I shall give you land flowing with mylk and hony. And than this rych man dyd these men drinke a maner of drinke, of which they were dronken, and he sayd to them, if they wold dye for his sake, when they were dead, they shold come to his paradise, and they shold be of the age of those maydens, and shold dwell alway with them, and he shold put them in a fayrer paradise where they shold se god in joy, and in his maiesty: and then they graunted to do that he wold, and he bade them go and sleay such a lord, or a man of the countrey that he was wroth with, and that they shold haue no dread of no man. And if they were slaine themselfe for his sake, he shold put them in his paradise when they were dead. And so went these bachelors to sleay great lords of the countrey, and were slain themselfe in hope to have that paradise, and thus he was avenged of his enemies thro his desert, and when rich men of the countrey perceived this cautell and malice, and the will of this Catolonapes, they gathered them together and assayled the castel and slew hym and destroyed all his goods and his faire places and riches that were in his paradise; and the place of the walls is there yet, and some other things, but the riches are not, and it is not long ago since it was destroyed.”—CHAP. XC.

  The latter part of this fable is the story of the Assassins, whose Iman or leader was known by the appellation of the “Old Man of the Mountains.”

  From Mandevile (or rather from Purchas’s Pilgrim, where similar accounts are met with), Mr. Southey, in his splendid poem of “THALABA,” has borrowed the idea of Aloadin’s enchanted garden. See Book VII.

  NOTE 6. Page 106.

  “On this there is an ancient French MORALITE, entitled, ‘L’Orgueil et Presomption de l’Empereur JOVINIAN.’ This is also the story of ROBERT king of Sicily, an old English poem or romance.”—WARTON.

  An entertaining abstract of this old romance is here added, from Mr. Ellis’s Specimens.

  “ROBERT OF CYSILLE.

  “Robert king of Sicily, brother to Pope Urban and to Valemond emperor of Germany, was among the most powerful and valorous princes of Europe; but his arrogance was still more conspicuous than his power or his valour. Constantly occupied by the survey of his present greatness, or by projects for its future extension, he considered the performance of his religious duties as insufferably tedious; and never paid his adorations to the Supreme Being without evident reluctance and disgust. His guilt was great; and his punishment was speedy and exemplary.

  “Once upon a time, being present during vespers on the eve of St. John, his attention was excited by the following passage in the Magnificat; ‘deposuit potentes de sede, et exaltavit humaes.’ He inquired of a clerk the meaning of these words; and, having heard the explanation, replied that such expressions were very foolish, since he, being the very flower of chivalry, was too mighty to be thrown down from his seat, and had no apprehension of seeing others exalted at his expense. The clerk did not presume to attempt any remonstrance; the service continued; Robert thought it longer and more tedious than ever; and at last fell fast asleep.

  “His slumber was not interrupted, nor indeed noticed by any of the congregation, because an angel having in the mean time assumed his features, together with the royal robes, had been attended by the usual officers to the palace, where supper was immediately served. Robert, however, awaked at the close of day; was much astonished by the darkness of the church, and not less so by the solitude which surrounded him. He began to call loudly for his attendants, and at length attracted the notice of the sexton, who, conceiving him to be a thief secreted in the church for the purpose of stealing the sacred ornaments, approached the door with some precaution, and transmitted his suspicions through the key-hole. Robert indignantly repelled this accusation, affirming that he was the king; upon which the sexton, persuaded that he had lost his senses, and not at all desirous of having a madman under his care, opened the door, and was glad to see the supposed maniac run with all speed to the palace. But the palace gates were shut; and Robert, whose temper was never very enduring, and was now exasperated by rage and hunger, vainly attempted by threats of imprisonment, and even of death, to subdue the contumacy of the porter. While the metamorphosed monarch was venting his rage at the gate, this officer hastened to the hall, and falling on his knees, requested his sovereign’s orders concerning a madman, who loudly asserted his right to the throne. The angel directed that he should be immediately admitted; and Eobert at length appeared, covered with mud, in consequence of an affray in which he had flattened the porter’s nose, and had been himself rolled in a puddle by the porter’s assistants.

  “Without paying the least attention to the accidental circumstances, or the clamours of the wounded man, who loudly demanded justice, he rushed up to the throne; and though a good deal startled at finding not only that, and all the attributes of royalty, but even his complete set of features, in the possession of another, he boldly proceeded to treat the angel as an impostor, threatening him with the vengeance of the pope and of the emperor, who, he thought, could not fail of distinguishing the true from the fictitious sovereign of Sicily.

  “‘Thou art my fool!’ said the angel;

  ‘Thou shalt be shorn, every deal

  Like a fool, a fool to be;

  For thou hast now no dignity.

  Thine counsellor shall be an ape;

  And o1 clothing you shall be shape.—

  He shall ben thine own fere:

  Some wit of him thou might lere,

  Hounds, how so it befalle,

  Shall eat with thee in the hall.

  Thou shalt eaten on the ground;

  Thy ’sayer shall ben an hound,

  To assay thy meat before thee;

  For thou hast lore thy dignity.’

  “He cleped a barber him before,

  That, as a fool, he should be shore,

  All around like a frere,

  An hande-brede2 above the ear;

  And on his crown maken a cross.3

  He gan cry and make noise;

  And said they should all abye,

  That did him swich villainy, etc.

  “Thus was Robert reduced to the lowest state of human degradation ; an object of contempt and derision to those whom he had been accustomed to despise; often suffering from hunger and thirst; and seeing his sufferings inspire no more compassion than those of the animals with whom he shared his precarious and disgusting rep
ast. Yet his pride and petulance were not subdued. To the frequent inquiries of the angel, whether he still thought himself a king, he continued to answer by haughty denunciations of vengeance, and was incensed almost to madness, when this reply excited, as it constantly did, a general burst of laughter.

  “In the mean time, Robert’s dominions were admirably governed by his angelic substitute. The country, always fruitful, became a paragon of fertility; abuses were checked by a severe administration of equal justice; and, for a time, all evil propensities seemed to be eradicated from the hearts of the happy Sicilians—

  “Every man loved well other;

  Better love was never with brother.

  In his time was never no strife

  Between man and his wife:

  Then was this a joyful thing

  In land to have swich a king.

  “At the end of about three years arrived a solemn embassy from Sir Valemond the emperor, requesting that Robert would join him on holy Thursday, at Rome, whither he proposed to go on a visit to his brother Urban. The angel welcomed the ambassadors; bestowed on them garments lined with ermine and embroidered with jewels, so exquisitely wrought as to excite universal astonishment; and departed in their company to Rome.

  “The fool Robert also went,

  Clothed in loathly garnement,

  With fox-tails riven all about:

  Men might him knowen in the rout.

  An ape rode of his clothing;

  So foul rode never king.

  “These strange figures, contrasted with the unparalleled magnificence of the angel and his attendants, produced infinite merriment among the spectators, whose shouts of admiration were enlivened by frequent peals of laughter.

  “Robert witnessed, in sullen silence, the demonstrations of affectionate regard with which the pope and the emperor welcomed their supposed brother; but at length, rushing forward, bitterly reproached them for thus joining in an unnatural conspiracy with the usurper of his throne. This violent sally, however, was received by his brothers, and by the whole papal court, as an undoubted proof of his madness; and he now learnt for the first time the real extent of his misfortune. His stubbornness and pride gave way, and were succeeded by sentiments of remorse and penitence.

  “We have already seen, that he was not very profoundly versed in Scripture history, but he now fortunately recollected two examples which he considered as nearly similar to his own; those of Nebuchadnezzar and Holofemes. Recalling to his mind their greatness and degradation, he observed that God alone had bestowed on them that power which he afterwards annihilated.

  “‘So hath he mine, for my gult;

  Now am I full lowe pult;

  And that is right that I so be:

  Lord, on thy fool have thou pité

  “‘That error hath made me to smart

  That I had in my heart;

  Lord, I ‘leved not on thee:

  Lord, on thy fool have thou pité.

  “‘Holy writ I had in despite;

  Therefore reaved is my right;

  Therefore is right a fool that I be:

  Lord, on thy fool have thou pité,’ etc

  “The sincerity of his contrition is evinced, in the original, by a long series of such stanzas, with little variation of thought or expression ; but the foregoing specimen will, perhaps, suffice for the satisfaction of the reader.

  “After five weeks spent in Rome, the emperor, and the supposed king of Sicily, returned to their respective dominions, Robert being still accoutred in his fox-tails, and accompanied by his ape, whom he now ceased to consider as his inferior. When returned to the palace, the angel, before the whole court, repeated his usual question; but the penitent, far from persevering in his former insolence, humbly replied, ‘that he was indeed a fool, or worse than a fool; but that he had at least acquired a perfect indifference for all worldly dignities.’ The attendants were now ordered to retire: and the angel, being left alone with Robert, informed him that his sins were forgiven; gave him a few salutary admonitions, and added—

  “‘I am an angel of renown

  Sent to keep thy regioun.

  More joy me shall fall

  In heaven, among mine feren all,

  In an hour of a day,

  Than here, I thee say,

  In an hundred thousand year;

  Though all the world, far and near,

  Were mine at my liking:

  I am an angel; thou art king!’

  “With these words he disappeared; and Robert, returning to the hall, received, not without some surprise and confusion, the usual salutations of the courtiers.

  “From this period he continued, during three years, to reign with so much justice and wisdom that his subjects had no cause to regret the change of their sovereign; after which, being warned by the angel of his approaching dissolution, he dictated to his secretaries a full account of his former perverseness, and of its strange punishment; and, having sealed it with the royal signet, ordered it to be sent, for the edification of his brothers, to Rome and Vienna. Both received, with due respect, the important lesson: the emperor often recollected with tenderness and compassion the degraded situation of the valiant Robert; and the pope, besides availing himself of the story in a number of sermons addressed to the faithful, caused it to be carefully preserved in the archives of the Vatican, as a constant warning against pride, and an incitement to the performance of our religious duties.”

  The story of “The King of Thibet and the Princess of the Naimans” in the Persian and Turkish Tales, presents an incident somewhat similar. But the assumption of another’s likeness is a common Eastern figment.

  NOTE 7. Page 141.

  “This is the fable of Parnell’s HEBMIT, which that elegant and original writer has heightened with many masterly touches of poetical colouring, and a happier arrangement of circumstances. Among other proofs which might be mentioned of Pamell’s genius and address in treating this subject, by reserving the discovery of the angel to a critical period at the close of the fable, he has found means to introduce a beautiful description, and an interesting surprise.”— WARTON.

  That the reader may compare the two stories the more readily, it is inserted here:—

  THE HERMIT.

  “FAB in a wild, unknown to public view,

  From youth to age a reverend hermit grew,

  The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell,

  His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well:

  Remote from men, with God he pass’d his days,

  Pray’r all his business, all his pleasure praise.

  A life so sacred, such serene repose,

  Seem’d heaven itself, till one suggestion rose;

  That vice should triumph, virtue vice obey,—

  This sprung some doubt of Providence’s sway:

  His hopes no more a certain prospect boast,

  Aud all the tenour of his soul was lost:

  So when a smooth expanse receives imprest

  Calm nature’s image on its wat’ry breast,

  Down bend the banks, the trees depending grow,

  And skies beneath with answering colours glow:

  But if a stone the gentle sea divide,

  Swift ruffling circles curl on every side,

  And glimmering fragments of a broken sun,

  Banks, trees, and skies in thick disorder run.

  To clear this doubt, to know the world by sight,

  To find if books, or swains, report it right,

  (For yet by swains alone the world he knew,

  Whose feet came wand’ring o’er the nightly dew)

  He quits his cell; the pilgrim’s staff he bore,

  And fix’d the scallop in his hat before;

  Then with the sun a rising journey went,

  Sedate to think, and watching each event.

  The morn was wasted in the pathless grass,

  And long and lonesome was the wild to pass;

  But when the southern sun had wa
rm’d the day,

  A youth came posting o’er the crossing way!

  His raiment decent, his complexion fair,

  And soft in graceful ringlets wav’d his hair.

  Then near approaching, ‘Father, hail!’ he cried,

  And ‘Hail, my son,’ the rev’rend sire replied;

  Words follow’d words, from question answer flow’d

  And talk of various kind deceiv’d the road,

  ’Till each with other pleas’d, and loth to part,

  While in their age they differ, join in heart.

  Thus stands an aged elm in ivy bound,

  Thus youthful ivy clasps an elm around.

  Now sunk the sun ; the closing hour of day,

  Came onward, mantled o’er with sober grey:

  Nature in silence bid the world repose;

  When near the road a stately palace rose ;

  There by the moon thro’ ranks of trees they pass,

  Whose verdure crown’d their sloping sides with grass,

  It chanc’d the noble master of the dome

  Still made his house the wand’ring stranger’s home:

  Yet still the kindness, from a thirst of praise,

  Prov’d the vain flourish of expensive ease.

  The pair arrive ; the liv’ried servants wait;

  Their lord receives them at the pompous gate.

  The table groans with costly piles of food,

  And all is more than hospitably good.

  Then led to rest, the day’s long toil they drown,

  Deep sunk in sleep, and silk, and heaps of down.

  At length, ’tis morn, and, at the dawn of day,

  Along the wide canals the zephyrs play:

  Fresh o’er the gay parterres the breezes creep,

  And shake the neighb’ring wood to banish sleep.

  Up rise the guests, obedient to the call;