Читать книгу The Legend of the Glorious Adventures of Tyl Ulenspiegel in the land of Flanders and elsewhere - Charles de Coster - Страница 20

Table of Contents

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

When it was fine they stood outside the porch of the church, and under the 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 years for half a sovereign, four hundred years for seven florins, and so 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, little parchment certificates on which were written out the number of years of 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 whom never left off addressing his audience. This brother had a blooming countenance, and displayed three chins at least, and a portentous belly, all without the least embarrassment.

The Monk’s Sermon

“Unhappy ones!” he cried, fixing with his eye now one, now another of the crowd. “Unhappy ones! Let me show you a picture. Behold! You are in hell! The fire burns you most cruelly. You are boiling in that cauldron full of oil wherein are prepared the olie-koekjes of Astarte. You are nothing better than a sausage on the frying-pan of Lucifer, or a leg of mutton on the spit of Guilguiroth, biggest of all the devils. And first they cut you up in little pieces. Ah, woe is me! Behold this sinner who despised indulgences! Behold this plate of daintiness! ’Tis he! ’Tis he! His wicked body thus reduced by damnation. And for sauce, brimstone and pitch and tar! Thus are those poor sinners eaten alive to be born again continually to their pain! And here in all reality is the place of tears and of grinding of teeth. Have mercy, God of mercy! For now, poor damned one, you are in hell, and you suffer unspeakable woes. And yet if any there were to subscribe a denier for you, straightway one of your hands would find relief; and let but some other give a half a denier and your two hands would be freed entirely from the pain of the fire. But as for the remainder of your body, let some one only give a florin, and there falls the dew of indulgence over all! O freshness of delight! And now for ten days, a hundred days, a thousand years maybe, according as one pays, no more roast meat, no more olie-koekjes, no more fricassees for 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 you would 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 brother that stood by holding in his hands a silver bowl. And that brother, lowering his eyes at this signal, shook the bowl unctuously, as if inviting contributions.

Whereat the preacher continued in this wise: “Or perhaps you have a 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 pitiful voices? You cannot. Even a heart of ice must melt, though it cost you a carolus! And behold, at the very sound of the carolus as it strikes this vile metal” (and here his comrade shook the plate again), “a space opens out in the midst of the fire, and the tormented soul ascends 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 close at hand, and straight into the sea the soul plunges. She swims on her back, on her stomach, floats upon the waves, dives beneath them. Oh, listen how she sings aloud in her joy! See how she rolls about in the water! The very angels gaze down upon her from heaven and are glad. Eagerly they await her coming; but not yet, not yet has she had her fill of the sea. If she might only turn into a fish! She knoweth 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. She fears it not at all, but clambers upon its back, and sits there all unnoticed, hoping he will take her with him down into the depths of the sea. And now she goes to greet the little water-angels that feed on waterzoey from coral cauldrons, and on freshest oysters from plates of mother-of-pearl. And she is welcomed and fêted 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. There she finds again all her earthly friends and loved ones (save only those, forsooth, that in this life have spoken ill of indulgences and of our Holy Mother Church and who burn now for their sin upon the floor 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, my brothers, 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 the poor man’s purse as well as to the rich man’s. Only, I am sorry to say, my brothers, no credit is allowed. For to buy without paying cash is a crime most grievous in the eyes of Our Lord.”

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

Claes, feeling himself rich, paid a florin for an indulgence of ten thousand years; and the monks delivered to him a piece of parchment in exchange.

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