CHAPTER X.

No. 108. A Triumphal Procession.

No. 109. The Mote and the Beam.

Nevertheless, these old German, Flemish, and Dutch artists were still much influenced by the mediæval spirit, which they displayed in their coarse and clumsy imagination, in their neglect of everything like congruity in their treatment of the subject with regard to time and place, and theirnaïveexaggerations and blunders. Extreme examples of these characteristics are spoken of, in which the Israelites crossing the Red Sea are armed with muskets, and all the other accoutrements of modern soldiers, and in which Abraham is preparing to sacrifice his son Isaac by shooting him with a matchlock. In delineating scriptural subjects, an attempt is generally made to clothe the figures in an imaginary ancient oriental costume, but the landscapes are filled with the modern castles and mansion houses, churches, and monasteries of western Europe. These half-mediæval artists, too, like their more ancient predecessors, often fall into unintentional caricature by the exaggeration or simplicity with which they treat their subjects. There was one subject which the artists of this period of regeneration of art seemed to have agreed to treat in a very unimaginative manner. In the beautiful Sermon on the Mount, our Saviour, in condemning hasty judgments of other people’s actions, says (Matt. vii. 3-5), “And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye? Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out themote out of thine eye, and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye? Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye, and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother’s eye.” Whatever be the exact nature of the beam which the man was expected to overlook in his “own eye,” it certainly was not a large beam of timber. Yet such was the conception of it by artists of the sixteenth century. One of them, named Solomon Bernard, designed a series of woodcuts illustrating the New Testament, which were published at Lyons in 1553; and the manner in which he treated the subject will be seen in our cut No. 109, taken from one of the illustrations to that book. The individual seated is the man who has a mote in his eye, which the other, approaching him, points out; and he retorts by pointing to the “beam,” which is certainly such a massive object as could not easily have been overlooked. About thirteen years before this, an artist of Augsburg, named Daniel Hopfer, had published a large copper-plate engraving of this same subject, a reduced copy of which is given in the cut No. 110. The individual who sees the mote in his brother’s eye, is evidently treating it in thecharacter of a physician or surgeon. It is only necessary to add that the beam in his own eye is of still more extraordinary dimensions than the former, and that, though it seems to escape the notice both of himself and his patient, it is evident that the group in the distance contemplate it with astonishment. The building accompanying this scene appears to be a church, with paintings of saints in the windows.

No. 110. The Mote and the Beam—Another Treatment.

SATIRICAL LITERATURE IN THE MIDDLE AGES.—JOHN DE HAUTEVILLE AND ALAN DE LILLE.—GOLIAS AND THE GOLIARDS.—THE GOLIARDIC POETRY.—TASTE FOR PARODY.—PARODIES ON RELIGIOUS SUBJECTS.—POLITICAL CARICATURE IN THE MIDDLE AGES.—THE JEWS OF NORWICH.—CARICATURE REPRESENTATIONS OF COUNTRIES.—LOCAL SATIRE.—POLITICAL SONGS AND POEMS.

In a previous chapter I have spoken of a class of satirical literature which was entirely popular in its character. Not that on this account it was original among the peoples who composed mediæval society, for the intellectual development of the middle ages came almost all from Rome through one medium or other, although we know so little of the details of the popular literature of the Romans that we cannot always trace it. The mediæval literature of western Europe was mostly modelled upon that of France, which was received, like its language, from Rome. But when the great university system became established, towards the end of the eleventh century, the scholars of western Europe became more directly acquainted with the models of literature which antiquity had left them; and during the twelfth century these found imitators so skilful that some of them almost deceive us into accepting them for classical writers themselves. Among the first of these models to attract the attention of mediæval scholars, were the Roman satirists, and the study of them produced, during the twelfth century, a number of satirical writers in Latin prose and verse, who are remarkable not only for their boldness and poignancy, but for the elegance of their style. I may mention among those of English birth, John of Salisbury, Walter Mapes, and Giraldus Cambrensis, who all wrote in prose, and Nigellus Wireker, already mentioned in a former chapter, and John de Hauteville, who wrote inverse. The first of these, in his “Polycraticus,” Walter Mapes, in his book“De Nugis Curialium,”and Giraldus, in his“Speculum Ecclesiæ,”and several other of his writings, lay the lash on the corruptions and vices of their contemporaries with no tender hand. The two most remarkable English satirists of the twelfth century were John de Hauteville and Nigellus Wireker. The former wrote, in the year 1184, a poem in nine books of Latin hexameters, entitled, after the name of its hero, “Architrenius,” or the Arch-mourner. Architrenius is represented as a youth, arrived at years of maturity, who sorrows over the spectacle of human vices and weaknesses, until he resolves to go on a pilgrimage to Dame Nature, in order to expostulate with her for having made him feeble to resist the temptations of the world, and to entreat her assistance. On his way, he arrives successively at the court of Venus and at the abode of Gluttony, which give him the occasion to dwell at considerable length on the license and luxury which prevailed among his contemporaries. He next reaches Paris, and visits the famous mediæval university, and his satire on the manners of the students and the fruitlessness of their studies, forms a remarkable and interesting picture of the age. The pilgrim next arrives at the Mount of Ambition, tempting by its beauty and by the stately palace with which it was crowned, and here we are presented with a satire on the manners and corruptions of the court. Near to this was the Hill of Presumption, which was inhabited by ecclesiastics of all classes, great scholastic doctors and professors, monks, and the like. It is a satire on the manners of the clergy. As Architrenius turns from this painful spectacle, he encounters a gigantic and hideous monster named Cupidity, is led into a series of reflections upon the greediness and avarice of the prelates, from which he is roused by the uproar caused by a fierce combat between the prodigals and the misers. He is subsequently carried to the island of far-distant Thule, which he finds to be the resting-place of the philosophers of ancient Greece, and he listens to their declamations against the vices of mankind. After this visit, Architrenius reaches the end of his pilgrimage. He finds Nature in the form of a beautiful woman, dwelling with a host of attendants in the midst of a flowery plain, and meats with a courteous reception, but she begins bygiving him a long lecture on natural philosophy. After this is concluded, Dame Nature listens to his complaints, and, to console him, gives him a handsome woman, named Moderation, for a wife, and dismisses him with a chapter of good counsels on the duties of married life. The general moral intended to be inculcated appears to be that the retirement of domestic happiness is to be preferred to the vain and heartless turmoils of active life in all its phases. It will be seen that the kind of allegory which subsequently produced the “Pilgrim’s Progress,” had already made its appearance in mediæval literature.

Another of the celebrated satirists of the scholastic ages was named Alanus de Insulis, or Alan of Lille, because he is understood to have been born at Lille in Flanders. He occupied the chair of theology for many years in the university of Paris with great distinction, and his learning was so extensive that he gained the name ofdoctor universalis, the universal doctor. In one of his books, which is an imitation of that favourite book in the middle ages“Boethius de Consolatione Philosophiæ,”Dame Nature, in the place of Philosophy—not, as in John de Hauteville, as the referee, but as the complainant—is introduced bitterly lamenting over the deep depravity of the thirteenth century, especially displayed in the prevalence of vices of a revolting character. This work, which, like Boethius, consists of alternate chapters in verse and prose, is entitled“De Planctu Naturæ,”the lamentation of nature. I will not, however, go on here to give a list of the graver satirical writers, but we will proceed to another class of satirists which sprang up among the mediæval scholars, more remarkable and more peculiar in their character—I mean peculiar to the middle ages.

The satires of the time show us that the students in the universities in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, who enjoyed a great amount of independence from authority, were generally wild and riotous, and, among the vast number of youths who then devoted themselves to a scholastic life, we can have no doubt that the habit of dissipation became permanent. Among these wild students there existed, probably, far more wit and satirical talent than among their steadier and more laborious brethren, and this wit, and the manner in which it was displayed, made its possessors welcome guests at the luxurious tables of the higher andricher clergy, at which Latin seems to have been the language in ordinary use. In all probability it was from this circumstance (in allusion to the Latin wordgula, as intimating their love of the table) that these merry scholars, who displayed in Latin some of the accomplishments which the jougleurs professed in the vulgar tongue, took or received the name ofgoliards(in the Latin of that time,goliardi, orgoliardenses).[42]The name at least appears to have been adopted towards the end of the twelfth century. In the year 1229, during the minority of Louis IX., and while the government of France was in the hands of the queen-mother, troubles arose in the university of Paris through the intrigues of the papal legate, and the turbulence of the scholars led to their dispersion and to the temporary closing of the schools; and the contemporary historian, Matthew Paris, tells us how “some of the servants of the departing scholars, or those whom we used to call goliardenses,” composed an indecent epigram on the rumoured familiarities between the legate and the queen. But this is not the first mention of the goliards, for a statute of the council of Treves, in 1227, forbade “all priests to permit truants, or other wandering scholars, or goliards, to sing verses orSanctusandAngelus Deiin the service of the mass.”[43]This probably refers to parodies on the religious service, such as those of which I shall soon have to speak. From this time the goliards are frequently mentioned. In ecclesiastical statutes published in the year 1289, it is ordered that the clerks or clergy (clerici, that is, men who had their education in the university) “should not be jougleurs, goliards, or buffoons;”[44]and the same statute proclaims a heavy penalty against thoseclerici“who persist in thepractice of goliardy or stage performance during a year,”[45]which shows that they exercised more of the functions of the jougleur than the mere singing of songs.

These vagabond clerks made for themselves an imaginary chieftain, or president of their order, to whom they gave the name of Golias, probably as a pun on the name of the giant who combated against David, and, to show further their defiance of the existing church government, they made him a bishop—Golias episcopus. Bishop Golias was the burlesque representative of the clerical order, the general satirist, the reformer of eclesiastical and all other corruptions. If he was not a doctor of divinity, he was a master of arts, for he is spoken of asMagister Golias. But above all he was the father of the Goliards, the “ribald clerks,” as they are called, who all belonged to his household,[46]and they are spoken of as his children.

Summa salus omnium, filius Mariæ,Pascat, potat, vestiat pueros Golyæ![47]

Summa salus omnium, filius Mariæ,

Pascat, potat, vestiat pueros Golyæ![47]

“May the Saviour of all, the Son of Mary, give food, drink, and clothes to the children of Golias!” Still the name was clothed in so much mystery, that Giraldus Cambrensis, who flourished towards the latter end of the twelfth century, believed Golias to be a real personage, and his contemporary. It may be added that Golias not only boasts of the dignity of bishop, but he appears sometimes under the title ofarchipoeta, the archpoet or poet-in-chief.

Cæsarius of Heisterbach, who completed his book of the miracles of his time in the year 1222, tells us a curious anecdote of the character of the wandering clerk. In the year before he wrote, he tells us, “It happened at Bonn, in the diocese of Cologne, that a certain wanderingclerk, named Nicholas, of the class they call archpoet, was grievously ill, and when he supposed that he was dying, he obtained from our abbot, through his own pleading, and the intercession of the canons of the same church, admission into the order. What more? He put on the tunic, as it appeared to us, with much contrition, but, when the danger was past, he took it off immediately, and, throwing it down with derision, took to flight.” We learn best the character of the goliards from their own poetry, a considerable quantity of which is preserved. They wandered about from mansion to mansion, probably from monastery to monastery, just like the jougleurs, but they seem to have been especially welcome at the tables of the prelates of the church, and, like the jougleurs, besides being well feasted, they received gifts of clothing and other articles. In few instances only were they otherwise than welcome, as described in the rhyming epigram printed in my “Latin Poems attributed to Walter Mapes.” “I come uninvited,” says the goliard to the bishop, “ready for dinner; such is my fate, never to dine invited.” The bishop replies, “I care not for vagabonds, who wander among the fields, and cottages, and villages; such guests are not for my table. I do not invite you, for I avoid such as you; yet without my will you may eat the bread you ask. Wash, wipe, sit, dine, drink, wipe, and depart.”

Goliardus.Non invitatus venio prandere paratus;Sic sum fatatus, nunquam prandere vocatus.Episcopus.Non ego curo vagos, qui rura, mapalia, pagosPerlustrant, tales non vult mea mensa sodales.Te non invito, tibi consimiles ego vito;Me tamen invito potieris pane petito.Ablue, terge, sede, prande, bibe, terge, recede.

Goliardus.Non invitatus venio prandere paratus;Sic sum fatatus, nunquam prandere vocatus.

Goliardus.

Non invitatus venio prandere paratus;

Sic sum fatatus, nunquam prandere vocatus.

Episcopus.Non ego curo vagos, qui rura, mapalia, pagosPerlustrant, tales non vult mea mensa sodales.Te non invito, tibi consimiles ego vito;Me tamen invito potieris pane petito.Ablue, terge, sede, prande, bibe, terge, recede.

Episcopus.

Non ego curo vagos, qui rura, mapalia, pagos

Perlustrant, tales non vult mea mensa sodales.

Te non invito, tibi consimiles ego vito;

Me tamen invito potieris pane petito.

Ablue, terge, sede, prande, bibe, terge, recede.

In another similar epigram, the goliard complains of the bishop who had given him as his reward nothing but an old worn-out mantle. Most of the writers of the goliardic poetry complain of their poverty, and some of them admit that this poverty arose from the tavern and the love of gambling. One of them alleges as his claim to the liberality ofhis host, that, as he was a scholar, he had not learnt to labour, that his parents were knights, but he had no taste for fighting, and that, in a word, he preferred poetry to any occupation. Another speaks still more to the point, and complains that he is in danger of being obliged to sell his clothes. “If this garment of vair which I wear,” he says, “be sold for money, it will be a great disgrace to me; I would rather suffer a long fast. A bishop, who is the most generous of all generous men, gave me this cloak, and will have for it heaven, a greater reward than St. Martin has, who only gave half of his cloak. It is needful now that the poet’s want be relieved by your liberality [addressing his hearers]; let noble men give noble gifts—gold, and robes, and the like.”

Si vendatur propter denariumIndumentum quod porto varium,Grande mihi fiet opprobrium;Malo diu pati jejunium.Largissimus largorum omniumPrœsul dedit mihi hoc pallium,Majus habens in cælis præmiumQuam Martinus, qui dedit medium.Nunc est opus ut vestra copiaSublevetur vatis inopia;Dent nobiles dona nobilia,—Aurum, vestes, et his similia.

Si vendatur propter denarium

Indumentum quod porto varium,

Grande mihi fiet opprobrium;

Malo diu pati jejunium.

Largissimus largorum omnium

Prœsul dedit mihi hoc pallium,

Majus habens in cælis præmium

Quam Martinus, qui dedit medium.

Nunc est opus ut vestra copia

Sublevetur vatis inopia;

Dent nobiles dona nobilia,—

Aurum, vestes, et his similia.

There has been some difference of opinion as to the country to which this poetry more especially belongs. Giraldus Cambrensis, writing at the end of the twelfth or the beginning of the thirteenth century, evidently thought that Golias was an Englishman; and at a later date the goliardic poetry was almost all ascribed to Giraldus’s contemporary and friend, the celebrated humourist, Walter Mapes. This was, no doubt, an error. Jacob Grimm seemed inclined to claim them for Germany; but Grimm, on this occasion, certainly took a narrow view of the question. We shall probably be more correct in saying that they belonged in common to all the countries over which university learning extended; that in whatever country a particular poem of this class was composed, it became the property of the whole body of these scholastic jougleurs, and that it wasthus carried from one land to another, receiving sometimes alterations or additions to adapt it to each. Several of these poems are found in manuscripts written in different countries with such alterations and additions, as, for instance, that in the well-known “Confession,” in the English copies of which we have, near the conclusion, the line—

Præsul Coventrensium, parce confitenti;

an appeal to the bishop of Coventry, which is changed, in a copy in a German manuscript, to

Electe Coloniæ, parce pœnitenti,

“O elect of Cologne, spare me penitent.” From a comparison of what remains of this poetry in manuscripts written in different countries, it appears probable that the names Golias and goliard originated in the university of Paris, but were more especially popular in England, while the termarchipoetawas more commonly used in Germany.

In 1841 I collected all the goliardic poetry which I could then find in English manuscripts, and edited it, under the name of Walter Mapes, as one of the publications of the Camden Society.[48]At a rather later date I gave a chapter of additional matter of the same description in my“Anecdota Literaria.”[49]All the poems I have printed in these two volumes are found in manuscripts written in England, and some of them are certainly the compositions of English writers. They are distinguished by remarkable facility and ease in versification and rhyme, and by great pungency of satire. The latter is directed especially against the clerical order, and none are spared, from the pope at the summit of the scale down to the lowest of the clergy. In the“Apocalypsis Goliæ,”or Golias’s Revelations, which appears to have been the most popular of all thesepoems,[50]the poet describes himself as carried up in a vision to heaven, where the vices and disorders of the various classes of the popish clergy are successively revealed to him. The pope is a devouring lion; in his eagerness for pounds, he pawns books; at the sight of a mark of money, he treats Mark the Evangelist with disdain; while he sails aloft, money alone is his anchoring-place. The original lines will serve as a specimen of the style of these curious compositions, and of the love of punning which was so characteristic of the literature of that age:—

Est leo pontifex summus, qui devorat,Qui libras sitiens, libros impignorat;Marcam respiciet, Marcum dedecorat;In summis navigans, in nummis anchorat.

Est leo pontifex summus, qui devorat,

Qui libras sitiens, libros impignorat;

Marcam respiciet, Marcum dedecorat;

In summis navigans, in nummis anchorat.

The bishop is in haste to intrude himself into other people’s pastures, and fills himself with other people’s goods. The ravenous archdeacon is compared to an eagle, because he has sharp eyes to see his prey afar off, and is swift to seize upon it. The dean is represented by an animal with a man’s face, full of silent guile, who covers fraud with the form of justice, and by the show of simplicity would make others believe him to be pious. In this spirit the faults of the clergy, of all degrees, are minutely criticised through between four and five hundred lines; and it must not be forgotten that it was the English clergy whose character was thus exposed.

Tu scribes etiam, forma sed alia,Septem ecclesiis quæ sunt in Anglia.

Tu scribes etiam, forma sed alia,

Septem ecclesiis quæ sunt in Anglia.

Others of these pieces are termed Sermons, and are addressed, some to the bishops and dignitaries of the church, others to the pope, others to the monastic orders, and others to the clergy in general. The court of Rome, we are told, was infamous for its greediness; there all right and justice were put up for sale, and no favour could be had without money. In this court money occupies everybody’s thoughts; its cross—i. e. the markon the reverse of the coin—its roundness, and its whiteness, all please the Romans; where money speaks law is silent.

Nummis in hac curia non est qui non vacet;Crux placet, rotunditas, et albedo placet,Et cum totum placeat, et Romanis placet,Ubi nummus loquitur, et lex omnis tacet.

Nummis in hac curia non est qui non vacet;

Crux placet, rotunditas, et albedo placet,

Et cum totum placeat, et Romanis placet,

Ubi nummus loquitur, et lex omnis tacet.

Perhaps one of the most curious of these poems is the “Confession of Golias,” in which the poet is made to satirise himself, and he thus gives us a curious picture of the goliard’s life. He complains that he is made of light material, which is moved by every wind; that he wanders about irregularly, like the ship on the sea or the bird in the air, seeking worthless companions like himself. He is a slave to the charms of the fair sex. He is a martyr to gambling, which often turns him out naked to the cold, but he is warmed inwardly by the inspiration of his mind, and he writes better poetry than ever. Lechery and gambling are two of his vices, and the third is drinking. “The tavern,” he says, “I never despised, nor shall I ever despise it, until I see the holy angels coming to sing the eternal requiem over my corpse. It is my design to die in the tavern; let wine be placed to my mouth when I am expiring, that when the choirs of angels come, they may say, ‘Be God propitious to this drinker!’ The lamp of the soul is lighted with cups; the heart steeped in nectar flies up to heaven; and the wine in the tavern has for me a better flavour than that which the bishop’s butler mixes with water.... Nature gives to every one his peculiar gift: I never could write fasting; a boy could beat me in composition when I am hungry; I hate thirst and fasting as much as death.”

Tertio capitulo memoro tabernam:Illam nullo tempore sprevi, neque spernam,Donec sanctos angelos venientes cernam,Cantantes pro mortuo requiem æternam.Meum est propositum in taberna mori;Vindum sit appositum morientis ori,Ut dicant cum venerint angelorum chori,‘Deus sit propitius huic potatori!’Poculis accenditur animi lucerna;Cor imbutum nectare volat ad superna:Mihi sapit dulcius vinum in taberna,Quam quod aqua miscuit præsulis pincerna.Unicuique proprium dat natura munus:Ego nunquam potui scribere jejunus;Me jejunum vincere posset puer unus;Sitim et jejunium odi tanquam funus.[51]

Tertio capitulo memoro tabernam:Illam nullo tempore sprevi, neque spernam,Donec sanctos angelos venientes cernam,Cantantes pro mortuo requiem æternam.

Tertio capitulo memoro tabernam:

Illam nullo tempore sprevi, neque spernam,

Donec sanctos angelos venientes cernam,

Cantantes pro mortuo requiem æternam.

Meum est propositum in taberna mori;Vindum sit appositum morientis ori,Ut dicant cum venerint angelorum chori,‘Deus sit propitius huic potatori!’

Meum est propositum in taberna mori;

Vindum sit appositum morientis ori,

Ut dicant cum venerint angelorum chori,

‘Deus sit propitius huic potatori!’

Poculis accenditur animi lucerna;Cor imbutum nectare volat ad superna:Mihi sapit dulcius vinum in taberna,Quam quod aqua miscuit præsulis pincerna.

Poculis accenditur animi lucerna;

Cor imbutum nectare volat ad superna:

Mihi sapit dulcius vinum in taberna,

Quam quod aqua miscuit præsulis pincerna.

Unicuique proprium dat natura munus:Ego nunquam potui scribere jejunus;Me jejunum vincere posset puer unus;Sitim et jejunium odi tanquam funus.[51]

Unicuique proprium dat natura munus:

Ego nunquam potui scribere jejunus;

Me jejunum vincere posset puer unus;

Sitim et jejunium odi tanquam funus.[51]

Another of the more popular of these goliardic poems was the advice of Golias against marriage, a gross satire upon the female sex. Contrary to what we might perhaps expect from their being written in Latin, many of these metrical satires are directed against the vices of the laity, as well as against those of the clergy.

In 1844 the celebrated German scholar, Jacob Grimm, published in the “Transactions of the Academy of Sciences at Berlin” a selection of goliardic verses from manuscripts in Germany, which had evidently been written by Germans, and some of them containing allusions to German affairs in the thirteenth century.[52]They present the same form of verse and the same style of satire as those found in England, but the name of Golias is exchanged forarchipoeta, the archpoet. Some of the stanzas of the “Confession of Golias” are found in a poem in which the archpoet addresses a petition to the archchancellor for assistance in his distress, and confesses his partiality for wine. A copy of the Confession itself is also found in this German collection, under the title of the “Poet’s Confession.”

The Royal Library at Munich contains a very important manuscript of this goliardic Latin poetry, written in the thirteenth century. It belonged originally to one of the great Benedictine abbeys in Bavaria, where it appears to have been very carefully preserved, but still with an apparent consciousness that it was not exactly a book for a religious brotherhood, which ledthe monks to omit it in the catalogue of their library, no doubt as a book the possession of which was not to be proclaimed publicly. When written, it was evidently intended to be a careful selection of the poetry of this class then current. One part of it consists of poetry of a more serious character, such as hymns, moral poems, and especially satirical pieces. In this class there are more than one piece which are also found in the manuscripts written in England. A very large portion of the collection consists of love songs, which, although evidently treasured by the Benedictine monks, are sometimes licentious in character. A third class consists of drinking and gambling songs (potatoria et lusoria). The general character of this poetry is more playful, more ingenious and intricate in its metrical structure, in fact, more lyric than that of the poetry we have been describing; yet it came, in all probability, from the same class of poets—the clerical jougleurs. The touches of sentiment, the descriptions of female beauty, the admiration of nature, are sometimes expressed with remarkable grace. Thus, the green wood sweetly enlivened by the joyous voices of its feathered inhabitants, the shade of its branches, the thorns covered with flowers, which, says the poet, are emblematical of love, which pricks like a thorn and then soothes like a flower, are tastefully described in the following lines:—

Cantu nemus aviumLascivia canentiumSuave delinitur,Fronde redimitur,Vernant spinæ floribusMicantibus,Venerem signantibusQuia spina pungit, flos blanditur.

Cantu nemus avium

Lascivia canentium

Suave delinitur,

Fronde redimitur,

Vernant spinæ floribus

Micantibus,

Venerem signantibus

Quia spina pungit, flos blanditur.

And the following scrap of the description of a beautiful damsel shows no small command of language and versification—

Allicit dulcibusVerbis et osculis,LabellulisCastigate tumentibus,Roseo nectareusOdor infusus ori;Pariter eburneusSedat ordo dentiumPar niveo candori.

Allicit dulcibus

Verbis et osculis,

Labellulis

Castigate tumentibus,

Roseo nectareus

Odor infusus ori;

Pariter eburneus

Sedat ordo dentium

Par niveo candori.

The whole contents of this manuscript were printed in 1847, in an octavo volume, issued by the Literary Society at Stuttgard.[53]I had already printed some examples of such amatory Latin lyric poetry in 1838, in a volume of “Early Mysteries and Latin Poems;”[54]but this poetry does not belong properly to the subject of the present volume, and I pass on from it.

The goliards did not always write in verse, for we have some of their prose compositions, and these appear especially in the form of parodies. We trace a great love for parody in the middle ages, which spared not even things the most sacred, and the examples brought forward in the celebrated trial of William Hone, were mild in comparison to some which are found scattered here and there in mediæval manuscripts. In my Poems, attributed to Walter Mapes,[55]I have printed a satire in prose entitled “Magister Golyas de quodam abbate” (i.e., Master Golias’s account of a certain abbot), which has somewhat the character of a parody upon a saint’s legend. The voluptuous life of the superior of a monastic house is here described in a tone of banter which nothing could excel. Several parodies, more direct in their character, are printed in the two volumes of the“Reliquæ Antiquæ.”[56]One of these (vol. ii. p. 208) is a complete parody on the service of the mass, which is entitled in the original, “Missa de Potatoribus,” the Mass of the Drunkard. In this extraordinary composition, even the pater-noster is parodied. A portion of this, with great variations, is found in the German collection of the Carmina Burana, under the title ofOfficium Lusorum, the Office of the Gamblers.In the“Reliquæ Antiquæ”(ii. 58) we have a parody on the Gospel of St. Luke, beginning with the words,Initium fallacis Evangelii secundum Lupum, this last word being, of course, a sort of pun upon Lucam. Its subject also is Bacchus, and the scene having been laid in a tavern in Oxford, we have no difficulty in ascribing it to some scholar of that university in the thirteenth century. Among the Carmina Burana we find a similar parody on the Gospel of St. Mark, which has evidently belonged to one of these burlesques on the church service; and as it is less profane than the others, and at the same time pictures the mediæval hatred towards the church of Rome, I will give a translation of it as an example of this singular class of compositions. It is hardly necessary to remind the reader that a mark was a coin of the value of thirteen shillings and fourpence:—

“The beginning of the holy gospel according to Marks of silver. At that time the pope said to the Romans: ‘When the son of man shall come to the seat of our majesty, first say, Friend, for what hast thou come? But if he should persevere in knocking without giving you anything, cast him out into utter darkness.’ And it came to pass, that a certain poor clerk came to the court of the lord the pope, and cried out, saying, ‘Have pity on me at least, you doorkeepers of the pope, for the hand of poverty has touched me. For I am needy and poor, and therefore I seek your assistance in my calamity and misery.’ But they hearing this were highly indignant, and said to him: ‘Friend, thy poverty be with thee in perdition; get thee backward, Satan, for thou dost not savour of those things which have the savour of money. Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Thou shalt not enter into the joy of thy lord, until thou shalt have given thy last farthing.’“Then the poor man went away, and sold his cloak and his gown, and all that he had, and gave it to the cardinals, and to the doorkeepers, and to the chamberlains. But they said, ‘And what is this among so many?’ And they cast him out of the gates, and going out he wept bitterly, and was without consolation. After him there came to the court a certain clerk who was rich, and gross, and fat, and large, and who in a tumult had committed manslaughter. He gave first to the doorkeeper, secondly to the chamberlain, third to the cardinals. But they judged among themselves, that they were to receive more. Then the lord the pope, hearing that the cardinals and officials had received many gifts from the clerk, became sick unto death. But the rich man sent him an electuary of gold and silver, and he was immediately made whole. Then the lord the pope called before him the cardinals and officials, and said to them: ‘Brethren, see that no one deceive you with empty words. For I give you an example, that, as I take, so take ye also.’”

“Then the poor man went away, and sold his cloak and his gown, and all that he had, and gave it to the cardinals, and to the doorkeepers, and to the chamberlains. But they said, ‘And what is this among so many?’ And they cast him out of the gates, and going out he wept bitterly, and was without consolation. After him there came to the court a certain clerk who was rich, and gross, and fat, and large, and who in a tumult had committed manslaughter. He gave first to the doorkeeper, secondly to the chamberlain, third to the cardinals. But they judged among themselves, that they were to receive more. Then the lord the pope, hearing that the cardinals and officials had received many gifts from the clerk, became sick unto death. But the rich man sent him an electuary of gold and silver, and he was immediately made whole. Then the lord the pope called before him the cardinals and officials, and said to them: ‘Brethren, see that no one deceive you with empty words. For I give you an example, that, as I take, so take ye also.’”

This mediæval love of parody was not unfrequently displayed in amore popular form, and in the language of the people. In theReliquæ Antiquæ(i. 82) we have a very singular parody in English on the sermons of the Catholic priesthood, a good part of which is so written as to present no consecutive sense, which circumstance itself implies a sneer at the preachers. Thus our burlesque preacher, in the middle of his discourse, proceeds to narrate as follows (I modernise the English):—

“Sirs, what time that God and St. Peter came to Rome, Peter asked Adam a full great doubtful question, and said, ‘Adam, Adam, why ate thou the apple unpared?’ ‘Forsooth,’ quod he, ‘for I had no wardens (pears) fried.’ And Peter saw the fire, and dread him, and stepped into a plum-tree that hanged full of ripe red cherries. And there he saw all the parrots in the sea. There he saw steeds and stockfish pricking ‘swose’ (?) in the water. There he saw hens and herrings that hunted after harts in hedges. There he saw eels roasting larks. There he saw haddocks were done on the pillory for wrong roasting of May butter; and there he saw how bakers baked butter to grease with old monks’ boots. There he saw how the fox preached,” &c.

The same volume contains some rather clever parodies on the old English alliterative romances, composed in a similar style of consecutive nonsense. It is a class of parody which we trace to a rather early period, which the French term acoq-à-l’âne, and which became fashionable in England in the seventeenth century in the form of songs entitled “Tom-a-Bedlams.” M. Jubinal has printed two such poems in French, perhaps of the thirteenth century,[57]and others are found scattered through the old manuscripts. There is generally so much coarseness in them that it is not easy to select a portion for translation, and in fact their point consists in going on through the length of a poem of this kind without imparting a single clear idea. Thus, in the second of those published by Jubinal, we are told how, “The shadow of an egg carried the new year upon the bottom of a pot; two old new combs made a ball to run the trot; when it came to paying the scot, I, who never movemyself, cried out, without saying a word, ‘Take the feather of an ox, and clothe a wise fool with it.’”—

Li ombres d’un oefPortoit l’an reneufSur la fonz d’un pot;Deus viez pinges neufFirent un estuefPour courre le trot;Quant vint au paier l’escot,Je, qui onques ne me muef,M’escriai, si ne dis mot:—‘Prenés la plume d’un buef,S’en vestez un sage sot.’—Jubinal, Nouv. Rec., ii. 217.

Li ombres d’un oef

Portoit l’an reneuf

Sur la fonz d’un pot;

Deus viez pinges neuf

Firent un estuef

Pour courre le trot;

Quant vint au paier l’escot,

Je, qui onques ne me muef,

M’escriai, si ne dis mot:—

‘Prenés la plume d’un buef,

S’en vestez un sage sot.’—Jubinal, Nouv. Rec., ii. 217.

The spirit of the goliards continued to exist long after the name had been forgotten; and the mass of bitter satire which they had left behind them against the whole papal system, and against the corruptions of the papal church of the middle ages, were a perfect godsend to the reformers of the sixteenth century, who could point to them triumphantly as irresistible evidence in their favour. Such scholars as Flacius Illyricus, eagerly examined the manuscripts which contained this goliardic poetry, and printed it, chiefly as good and effective weapons in the great religious strife which was then convulsing European society. To us, besides their interest as literary compositions, they have also a historical value, for they introduce us to a more intimate acquaintance with the character of the great mental struggle for emancipation from mediæval darkness which extended especially through the thirteenth century, and which was only overcome for a while to begin more strongly and more successfully at a later period. They display to us the gross ignorance, as well as the corruption of manners, of the great mass of the mediæval clergy. Nothing can be more amusing than the satire which some of these pieces throw on the character of monkish Latin. I printed in the“Reliquæ Antiquæ,”under the title of “The Abbot of Gloucester’s Feast,” a complaint supposed to issue from the mouth of one of the common herd of the monks, against the selfishness of their superiors, in which all the rules of Latin grammar are entirely set at defiance. The abbot and prior of Gloucester, with their whole convent, are invited to a feast, and ontheir arrival, “the abbot,” says the complainant, “goes to sit at the top, and the prior next to him, but I stood always in the back place among the low people.”

Abbas ire sede sursum,Et prioris juxta ipsum;Ego semper stavi dorsuminter rascalilia.

Abbas ire sede sursum,

Et prioris juxta ipsum;

Ego semper stavi dorsum

inter rascalilia.

The wine was served liberally to the prior and the abbot, but “nothing was give to us poor folks—everything was for the rich.”

Vinum venit sanguinatisAd prioris et abbatis;Nihil nobis paupertatis,sed ad dives omnia.

Vinum venit sanguinatis

Ad prioris et abbatis;

Nihil nobis paupertatis,

sed ad dives omnia.

When some dissatisfaction was displayed by the poor monks, which the great men treated with contempt, “said the prior to the abbot, ‘They have wine enough; will you give all our drink to the poor? What does their poverty regard us? they have little, and that is enough, since they came uninvited to our feast.’”

Prior dixit ad abbatis,‘Ipsi habent vinum satis;Vultis dare paupertatisnoster potus omnia?Quid nos spectat paupertatis?Postquam venit non vocatisad noster convivia.’

Prior dixit ad abbatis,

‘Ipsi habent vinum satis;

Vultis dare paupertatis

noster potus omnia?

Quid nos spectat paupertatis?

Postquam venit non vocatis

ad noster convivia.’

Thus through several pages this amusing poem goes on to describe the gluttony and drunkenness of the abbot and prior, and the ill-treatment of their inferiors. This composition belongs to the close of the thirteenth century. A song very similar to it in character, but much shorter, is found in a manuscript of the middle of the fifteenth century, and printed with the other contents of this manuscript in a little volume issued by the Percy Society.[58]The writer complains that the abbot and prior drunkgood and high-flavoured wine, while nothing but inferior stuff was usually given to the convent; “But,” he says, “it is better to go drink good wine at the tavern, where the wines are of the best quality, and money is the butler.”

Bonum vinum cum saporeBibit abbas cum priore;Sed conventus de pejoresemper solet bibere.Bonum vinum in taberna,Ubi vina sunt valarna(for Falerna),Ubi nummus est pincerna,Ibi prodest bibere.

Bonum vinum cum sapore

Bibit abbas cum priore;

Sed conventus de pejore

semper solet bibere.

Bonum vinum in taberna,

Ubi vina sunt valarna(for Falerna),

Ubi nummus est pincerna,

Ibi prodest bibere.

No. 111. Caricature upon the Jews at Norwich.

Partly out of the earnest, though playful, satire described in this chapter, arose political satire, and at a later period political caricature. I have before remarked that the period we call the middle ages was not that of political or personal caricature, because it wanted that means of circulating quickly and largely which is necessary for it. Yet, no doubt, men who could draw, did, in the middle ages, sometimes amuse themselves in sketching caricatures, which, in general, have perished, because nobody cared to preserve them; but the fact of the existence of such works isproved by a very curious example, which has been preserved, and which is copied in our cut No. 111. It is a caricature on the Jews of Norwich, which some one of the clerks of the king’s courts in the thirteenth century has drawn with a pen, on one of the official rolls of the Pell office, where it has been preserved. Norwich, as it is well known, was one of the principal seats of the Jews in England at this early period, and Isaac of Norwich, the crowned Jew with three faces, who towers over the other figures, was no doubt some personage of great importance among them. Dagon, as a two-headed demon, occupies a tower, which a party of demon knights is attacking. Beneath the figure of Isaac there is a lady, whose name appears to be Avezarden, who has some relation or other with a male figure named Nolle-Mokke, in which another demon, named Colbif, is interfering. As this latter name is written in capital letters, we may perhaps conclude that he is the most important personage in the scene; but, without any knowledge of the circumstances to which it relates, it would be in vain to attempt to explain this curious and rather elaborate caricature.

No. 112. An Irishman.

Similar attempts at caricature, though less direct and elaborate, are found in others of our national records. One of these, pointed out to me by an excellent and respected friend, the Rev. Lambert B. Larking, is peculiarly interesting, as well as amusing. It belongs to the Treasury of the Exchequer, and consists of two volumes of vellum called Liber A and Liber B, forming a register of treaties, marriages, and similar documents of the reign of Edward I., which have been very fully used by Rymer. The clerk who was employed in writing it, seems to have been, like many of these official clerks, somewhat of a wag, and he has amused himself by drawing in the margin figures of the inhabitants of the provinces of Edward’scrown to which the documents referred. Some of these are evidently designed for caricature. Thus, the figure given in our cut No. 112 was intended to represent an Irishman. One trait, at least, in this caricature is well known from the description given by Giraldus Cambrensis, who speaks with a sort of horror of the formidable axes which the Irish were accustomed to carry about with them. In treating of the manner in which Ireland ought to be governed when it had been entirely reduced to subjection, he recommends that, “in the meantime, they ought not to be allowed in time of peace, on any pretence or in any place, to use that detestable instrument of destruction, which, by an ancient but accursed custom, they constantly carry in their hands instead of a staff.” In a chapter of his “Topography of Ireland,” Giraldus treats of this “ancient and wicked custom” of always carrying in their hand an axe, instead of a staff, to the danger of all persons who had any relations with them. Another Irishman, from a drawing in the same manuscript, given in our cut No. 113, carries his axe in the same threatening attitude. The costume of these figures answers with sufficient accuracy to the description given by Giraldus Cambrensis. The drawings exhibit more exactly than that writer’s description the “small close-fitting hoods, hanging a cubit’s length (half-a-yard) below the shoulders,” which, he tells us, they were accustomed to wear. This small hood, with the flat cap attached to it, is shown better perhaps in the second figure than in the first. The “breeches and hose of one piece, or hose and breeches joined together,” are also exhibited here very distinctly, and appear to be tied over the heel, but the feet are clearly naked, and evidently the use of the “brogues” was not yet general among the Irish of the thirteenth century.

Back to Index Next