Légende d'Ulenspiegel. English

by Charles de Coster

  (Signed) Phle."

  To this letter the Emperor made reply in the following terms:

  "Sir and Son,--You have bitter enemies, I do not dispute it; but you must try to endure them without vexation in anticipation of the yet more brilliant crown that shall be yours hereafter. I have already made it widely known that I am determined to retire from my lordship over the Low Countries and other of my dominions, for I am growing old and gouty, and I know that I shall not long be able to withstand King Henry the Second of France, for Fortune ever favours the young. You should remember also that so long as you are master of England, you will be as a thorn in the side of our enemy France. Truly I suffered a nasty defeat at Metz, and lost there near forty thousand men. I was compelled to retreat before the King of Saxony. If God does not soon see fit by a stroke of His good and divine will to re-establish me in the force and vigour of my prime, I am inclined, Sir and Son, to quit my kingdoms altogether and to leave them to you.

  "Have patience therefore, and do your duty meanwhile against the heretics, sparing none of them, man, woman, girl, or child, for I am credibly informed that Madame your Queen has been minded to treat them mercifully, and this is a great grief to me.

  "Your affectionate father,

  "(Signed) Charles."

  XXX

  Ulenspiegel had been long upon the road. His feet were bleeding,but in the district of the bishopric of Mayence he met a wagon fullof pilgrims who invited him to join them, and they carried him withthem to Rome.

  When they arrived at the city Ulenspiegel got down from the wagon,and straightway noticed a charming-looking woman standing at the doorof an inn. She smiled when she saw him looking at her.

  Taking this kindly humour of hers for a good omen:

  "Hostess," says he, "will you give asile, pray, to a poor pilgrim onpilgrimage who has carried his full time and is about to be deliveredof his sins?"

  "We give asile to all such as pay us for it," said the woman.

  I have a hundred ducats in my purse," said Ulenspiegel (who, in fact,had no more than one), "and I would dearly like to spend the firstof them in your pleasant company and over a bottle of old Roman wine."

  "Wine is not dear in these holy parts," she answered. "Come in anddrink your fill. It will only cost you a soldo."

  And they twain drank together for so long, and emptied so many bottlesof wine and all to the tune of such pleasant conversation, that thehostess was constrained to order her servant to serve the customers inher place, while she and Ulenspiegel retired into a room at the back ofthe inn, a marble chamber, cool as a winter's day, where, leaning herhead on her new friend's shoulder, she demanded of him who he might be.

  And Ulenspiegel answered her:

  "I am Lord of Geeland, Count of Gavergeeten, Baron of Tuchtendeel. Iwas born at Damme, in Flanders, and I hold there for my estate fiveand twenty acres of moonlight."

  "What land is that whence you come?" the hostess asked him, drinkingfrom Ulenspiegel's tankard.

  "It is a misty land," he told her, "a land of illusion, where are sownthe seeds of false hopes and of castles in the air. But you, sweethostess mine, were born in no such land of moonlight, you with youramber skin and your eyes that shine like pearls. For bright is thesunshine that has coloured that browned gold of your hair, and it isLady Venus herself who, without a single pang of jealousy, has formedyour soft shoulders, and your prancing breasts, your rounded arms,your delicate sweet hands. Say, shall we sup together this night?"

  "Fine pilgrim that you are from Flanders," says she, "say, why areyou come hither?"

  "To have a talk with the Pope," said Ulenspiegel.

  "Heavens!" she cried, clasping her hands together, "and that issomething that even myself, a native of the country, have never beenable to do!"

  "Yet shall I," said Ulenspiegel.

  "But know you where the Pope lives, what he is like, what are hishabits and his ways of life?"

  "I heard all about him on the way," answered Ulenspiegel. "His nameis Julius III. Wanton he is, and gay and dissolute, a good talker,that never falters for a clever repartee. I have also heard thathe has taken an extraordinary fancy to a little dirty beggar of aman--a dark fellow and a rude who used to wander about with a monkeyasking for alms. He came to the Pope, and the Pope, it seems, hasmade a Cardinal of him, and now gets quite ill if a single day passeswithout their meeting."

  "Have some more to drink," said the landlady, "and do not speakso loud."

  "I have also heard," continued Ulenspiegel, "that one day he sworelike a soldier, Al dispetto di Dio, potta di Dio, and all because theydid not bring him the cold peacock that he had ordered to be kept forhis supper. And he excused himself, saying, 'If my Master was angeredover an apple, I, who am the vicar of God, can certainly swear anoath about a pheasant!' You see, my pet, I know the Pope very well,and understand just what sort of a man he is!"

  "Oh dear," she said, "pray be careful and do not tell this to anyone else. But still, and in spite of all you tell me, I maintain thatyou will not get to see him."

  "I shall," said Ulenspiegel.

  "I will wager you a hundred florins."

  "They are mine!" said Ulenspiegel.

  The very next day, tired as he was, he ran through all the city andfound out that the Pope was to say Mass that morning at the Church ofSt. John Lateran. Thither Ulenspiegel repaired, and took up a positionas prominently in the Pope's view as he could. And every time thatthe Pope elevated chalice or Host, Ulenspiegel turned his back to thealtar. Now one of the cardinals was officiating with the Pope, swarthyof countenance he was, malicious and corpulent; and on his shoulderhe carried a monkey. He reported Ulenspiegel's behaviour to the Pope,who straightway after Mass sent four terrible-looking soldiers (suchas one finds in those warlike lands) to seize the pilgrim.

  "What religion do you profess?" the Pope asked him.

  "Most Holy Father," answered Ulenspiegel, "my religion is the sameas my landlady's."

  The Pope had the woman fetched.

  "What is your religion?" he asked her.

  "The same as your Holiness's," she told him.

  "That also is mine," said Ulenspiegel.

  The Pope asked him why he turned his back upon the Holy Sacrament.

  "I felt myself unworthy to look upon it face to face," he answered.

  "You are a pilgrim?" said the Pope.

  "Yes," answered Ulenspiegel, "and I am come from Flanders to begremission of my sins."

  The Pope absolved and blessed him, and Ulenspiegel departed in thecompany of his landlady, who paid over to him his hundred florins. Andwith this good store of money he departed from Rome and set out toreturn again to the land of Flanders.

  But he had to pay seven ducats for the certificate of his pardon,all scribed upon parchment.

  XXXI

  In those days there came to Damme two brothers of the PremonstratensianOrder, sellers of indulgences. And over their monastic robes theywore beautiful jackets bordered with lace.

  When it was fine they stood outside the porch of the church, and underthe porch when it was wet, and there they stuck up their tariff;and this was the scale of charges: for six liards a hundred years'indulgence, for one patard two hundred years, three hundred yearsfor half a sovereign, four hundred years for seven florins, andso on according to the price--indulgences plenary or semi-plenary,and pardons for all the most terrible crimes.

  And they gave to their patrons, in exchange for payment, littleparchment certificates on which were written out the number of yearsof indulgence, and below was the following inscription:

  Who wants not to be Stewed, roasted, fricasseed, Burning in hell for evermore, Indulgences let him buy. Pardon and forgiveness, For a little money, God will return to him.

  And the eager purchasers came thronging round the monks. One of whomnever left off addressing his audience. This brother had a bloomingcou
ntenance, and displayed three chins at least, and a portentousbelly, all without the least embarrassment.

  "Unhappy ones!" he cried, fixing with his eye now one, now anotherof the crowd. "Unhappy ones! Let me show you a picture. Behold! Youare in hell! The fire burns you most cruelly. You are boiling inthat cauldron full of oil wherein are prepared the olie-koekjes ofAstarte. You are nothing better than a sausage on the frying-panof Lucifer, or a leg of mutton on the spit of Guilguiroth, biggestof all the devils. And first they cut you up in little pieces. Ah,woe is me! Behold this sinner who despised indulgences! Behold thisplate of daintiness! 'Tis he! 'Tis he! His wicked body thus reducedby damnation. And for sauce, brimstone and pitch and tar! Thus arethose poor sinners eaten alive to be born again continually to theirpain! And here in all reality is the place of tears and of grindingof teeth. Have mercy, God of mercy! For now, poor damned one, you arein hell, and you suffer unspeakable woes. And yet if any there wereto subscribe a denier for you, straightway one of your hands wouldfind relief; and let but some other give a half a denier and your twohands would be freed entirely from the pain of the fire. But as forthe remainder of your body, let some one only give a florin, and therefalls the dew of indulgence over all! O freshness of delight! And nowfor ten days, a hundred days, a thousand years maybe, according as onepays, no more roast meat, no more olie-koekjes, no more fricasseesfor you! And even if it is not for yourself, is there no one else,there in the secret depths of the fire, no one else for whom youwould wish to gain relief--one of your parents perhaps, a dear wife,or some lovely girl with whom you have committed wilful sin?"

  And as he spoke these words, the monk jogged the elbow of his brotherthat stood by holding in his hands a silver bowl. And that brother,lowering his eyes at this signal, shook the bowl unctuously, as ifinviting contributions.

  Whereat the preacher continued in this wise: "Or perhaps you havea son or a daughter, maybe, in the midst of this terrible fire,or some beloved little child? Hark, how they cry aloud, and weep,and call to you by name. Can you remain deaf to their pitifulvoices? You cannot. Even a heart of ice must melt, though it costyou a carolus! And behold, at the very sound of the carolus as itstrikes this vile metal" (and here his comrade shook the plate again),"a space opens out in the midst of the fire, and the tormented soulascends to some volcano mouth where it meets the air, the fresh,free air! Where are the pains of the fire now? For the sea is closeat hand, and straight into the sea the soul plunges. She swims on herback, on her stomach, floats upon the waves, dives beneath them. Oh,listen how she sings aloud in her joy! See how she rolls about inthe water! The very angels gaze down upon her from heaven and areglad. Eagerly they await her coming; but not yet, not yet has shehad her fill of the sea. If she might only turn into a fish! Sheknoweth not how there are prepared for her up aloft sweet baths,perfumed and scented, with fine bits of sugar-candy floating therein,all white and fresh like bits of ice. Now a shark appears. Shefears it not at all, but clambers upon its back, and sits there allunnoticed, hoping he will take her with him down into the depths ofthe sea. And now she goes to greet the little water-angels that feedon waterzoey from coral cauldrons, and on freshest oysters from platesof mother-of-pearl. And she is welcomed and feted and made much of,but still the angels in heaven beckon her on high, till at last,refreshed and happy, you may see her rise aloft, singing like a lark,up to the highest heaven where God sits in glory on his throne. Thereshe finds again all her earthly friends and loved ones (save onlythose, forsooth, that in this life have spoken ill of indulgencesand of our Holy Mother Church and who burn now for their sin upon thefloor of hell. And so for ever and for ever and for ever to all ages,in an all-consuming eternity). But that other soul, now dear to God,refreshes herself in soft baths and crunches sugar-candy. Buy then, mybrothers, buy your indulgences. We sell them for crusats, for florins,or for English sovereigns. Even copper coin is not refused. Buy then,buy! This is the Holy Mart! And we have indulgences adapted to thepoor man's purse as well as to the rich man's. Only, I am sorry tosay, my brothers, no credit is allowed. For to buy without payingcash is a crime most grievous in the eyes of Our Lord."

  Hereupon the monk who had kept silent shook his platter, and theflorins, crusats, patards, sols, and deniers fell into it as thickas hail.

  Claes, feeling himself rich, paid a florin for an indulgence of tenthousand years; and the monks delivered to him a piece of parchmentin exchange.

  At last, seeing that there was no one left in Damme but the miserlyfolk who would not buy indulgences at any price, the two monks leftthe village and proceeded on their way to Heyst.

  XXXII

  In those days the country round Liege was in a disturbed and dangerousstate by reason of the heresy hunts, and Lamme Goedzak came againto live in Damme. He was married now, and his wife followed himwillingly because the people of Liege, who had a mocking nature,used to make fun of her husband's meekness.

  Lamme often visited Claes, who, since coming into his fortune,was always to be found at the tavern of the Blauwe Torre, andhad even appropriated one of the tables for himself and his booncompanions. This table was next to the one where sat the Dean of theFishmongers, Josse Grypstuiver by name, drinking sparingly from hishalf-pint tankard. For he was a miser, a stingy fellow who thought theworld of himself, and lived for the most part on smoked herrings, andthought more of money than of the safety of his own soul. Now Claescarried in his pocket that piece of parchment whereon was inscribedthe tale of his ten-thousand-year indulgence.

  One evening Claes was drinking at the Blauwe Torre in the companyof Lamme Goedzak, Jan van Roosebeke, and Matthys van Assche, JosseGrypstuiver also being present. Claes had been imbibing freely, andJan Roosebeke was remonstrating with him, saying that it was sin todrink so much. But Claes replied that a pint too much meant nothingmore serious than an extra half-day in purgatory.

  "Besides," said he, "I have a ten-thousand-year indulgence in mypocket! Is there any one here that would like a hundred years ofthem, I wonder, so that he may indulge his stomach without fear ofthe consequences?"

  Every one shouted at once:

  "How much are you selling them at?"

  "For a pint of beer," Claes answered, "I will give you one hundreddays, but for a muske conyn you shall have a hundred and fifty!"

  Some of the revellers gave Claes a pint of beer, others a piece of ham,and for each and all Claes cut off a little strip of his parchment. Itwas not Claes, forsooth, who consumed the price of his indulgences,but Lamme Goedzak; and he gorged himself so that he began to swellvisibly; and all the time Claes went on distributing his merchandiseup and down the tavern.

  The man Grypstuiver turned a sour face towards him, and asked if hehad an indulgence for ten days.

  "No," said Claes, "that's too small a piece to cut."

  Every one laughed, and Grypstuiver ate his anger as best he could. ThenClaes went home, followed by Lamme, walking as if his legs were madeof wool.

  XXXIII

  Towards the end of the third year of her banishment, Katheline returnedto her home in Damme. And continually she cried aloud in her madness:"Fire, fire! My head is on fire! My soul is knocking, make a hole,she wants to get out!" And if ever she saw an ox or a sheep she wouldrun from it as if in terror. And she would sit on the bench at the backof her cottage, under the lime-trees, wagging her head and staring atthe people of Damme as they passed by. But she did not recognize them,and they called her "The mad-woman."