XLIV
In that year, being the fifty-eighth year of the century, Katheline came into Soetkin’s house and spake as follows:
“Last night, being anointed with balm, I was transported to the tower of Notre Dame, and I beheld the elemental spirits that carry the prayers of men to the angels, and they in their turn, flying up towards the highest heaven, bring them to the Throne of God. And everywhere the sky was strewn with glittering stars. Suddenly I saw the figure of a man that seemed all blackened and charred, rising from a funeral pile. Mounting up towards me, this figure took its place beside me on the tower. I saw that it was Claes, just as he was in life, dressed in his charcoal-burner’s clothes. He asked me what I was doing there on the tower of Notre Dame. ‘And you,’ I asked in my turn, ‘whither are you off to, flying in the air like a bird?’ ‘I am going,’ he answered, ‘to judgment. Hear you not the angel’s trump that summons me?’ I was quite close to him, and could feel the very substance of his spiritual body—not hard and resisting to the touch like the bodies of those that are alive, but so rarefied that to come up against it was like advancing into a kind of warm mist. And at my feet stretched out on every side the land of Flanders, with a few lights shining here and there, and I said to myself: ‘They that rise early and work late, surely they are the blessed of God!’ And all the time I could hear the angel’s trumpet calling through the night. And presently I saw another shade mounting up towards me from the land of Spain. This was an old man and decrepit, with a protruding chin, and quince jam all oozing from the corners of his lips.
“On its back it wore a cloak of crimson velvet lined with ermine, and on its head an imperial crown, and it kept nibbling a piece of anchovy which it carried in one hand, while in the other hand it clutched a tankard of beer. I could see that this spirit was tired out and had come to the tower of Notre Dame to rest itself. Kneeling down, I addressed it in these words: ‘Most Imperial Majesty, of a truth I revere you, yet I know not who you are. Whence come you? And what was your position in the world?’ ‘I come,’ answered the shade, ‘from Saint Juste in the country of Estramadoure. I was the Emperor Charles the Fifth.’ ‘But,’ said I, ‘whither, pray, are you going on such a cold night as this, and over these clouds that are all heavy and charged with hail?’ ‘I go,’ answered the shade, ‘to judgment.’
“Just as the Emperor was about to finish his anchovy and drink up his tankard of beer, the angel’s trumpet sounded, and straightway he had to betake himself to the air again, grumbling at this sudden interruption of his repast. High aloft he mounted through space, I following close behind; and as he went he hiccuped with fatigue, and coughed asthmatically, even vomited now and again; for death had come upon him at a time when he was suffering from a fit of indigestion. Thus ceaselessly we soared aloft like arrows shot from a bow of cornel-wood. The stars glimmered all around us, and time and again we saw them detach themselves and fall headlong, tracing long strokes of fire upon the sky. Once more the angel’s trump resounded, very shrill and powerful. Each fanfare seemed to cleave for itself a pathway through the cloudy air, scattering the mists asunder like a hurricane that has begun to blow from near at hand. And by this means our track was marked out clearly for us, till at length, when we had been carried up and up a thousand leagues and more, we beheld Christ Himself in His glory, seated upon a throne of stars. And at His right hand was the angel who records the deeds of men upon a register of brass, and at His left hand stood Mary His Mother, she that for ever implores mercy for poor sinners.
“Claes and the Emperor knelt down together before the throne. And the angel took off the crown from the head of the Emperor, and cast it away.
“‘There is only one Emperor here,’ he said. It is ‘Christ!’
“His Sacred Majesty could not conceal his annoyance; yet managed to assume a humble tone of voice as he begged to be allowed to keep his anchovy and his tankard of beer, for that he had come a long way and was very hungry.
“‘Hungry you have been all your life,’ said the angel, ‘nevertheless, you may go on with your eating and drinking if you want to.’
“The Emperor emptied the tankard of beer and took a nibble at the anchovy. Then Christ addressed him with these words:
“‘Do you present yourself to judgment with a clean soul?’
“‘I trust so, dear Lord,’ answered Charles the Emperor, ‘for I have confessed my sins and am well shriven.’
“‘And you, Claes? You do not seem to be trembling like the Emperor.’
“‘My Lord Jesus,’ answered Claes, ‘there is no soul that is clean, and how should I be afraid of you, you that are sovereign good and sovereign justice. Nevertheless, I am afraid of my sins, for they are many.’
“‘Speak, carrion!’ said the angel, addressing himself to the Emperor.
“‘I, Lord,’ said Charles, in an embarrassed tone of voice, ‘I am he that was anointed with oil by your priests, and crowned King of Castile, Emperor of Germany, and King of the Romans. It has ever been my first care to maintain that power which was given me by you, and to that end I have done my best by hanging and by sword, by burning and by burying alive, by pit and by fire to keep down all Reformers and Protestants.’
“But the angel said:
“‘O you false and dyspeptic man, you are trying to deceive us. In Germany, forsooth, you were tolerant enough of the Protestants, seeing that there you had good cause to be afraid of them. But in the Netherlands you beheaded, burned, hanged, and buried them alive, for there your only fear was lest you might fail to inherit sufficient of their property—so rich and plenteous, like the honey made by busy bees. And there perished at your hands one hundred thousand souls, not at all because you loved the Lord Christ, but because you were a despot, a tyrant, a waster of your country, and one that loved himself first of all, and after that, nothing but meat, fish, wine, and beer, for you were always as greedy as a dog and as thirsty as a sponge.’
“When the angel had made an end, Christ commanded that Claes should speak, but now the angel rose from his place, saying: ‘This man has nothing to answer. He was a good, hard-working man, as are all the poor people of Flanders, willing either for work or play; one that kept faith with his masters and trusted his masters to keep faith with him. But he possessed a certain amount of money, and it was for this reason that an accusation was brought against him, and inasmuch as he had harboured in his house a heretic, he was condemned to be burnt alive.’
“‘Alas!’ cried Mary, ‘the poor martyr! But here in heaven there are springs of fresh water, fountains of milk, and exquisite wine which will refresh you, and I myself will lead you there, good charcoal-burner!’
“And now the angel’s trumpet sounded yet again, and I saw a man, naked and very beautiful, rising from the abyss. On his head was an iron crown, and on the rim of the crown these words inscribed: ‘Sorrowful till the day of judgment.’
“He approached the throne and said to Christ:
“‘Thy slave I am until that day when I shall be Thy master!’
“‘O Satan,’ said Mary, ‘the day will come when there shall be neither slave nor master any more, and when Christ who is Love, and Satan who is Pride, shall stand forth together as the One Lord both of Power and of Knowledge.’
“‘Woman,’ said Satan, ‘thou art all goodness and all beauty.’
“Then addressing himself to Christ, and pointing at the same time towards the Emperor, Satan demanded what was to be done with him. Christ answered:
“‘Take this crowned wormling and put him in a room wherein you have collected together all instruments of torture which were in use under his rule. And each time that some innocent wretch is made to suffer the torture of water, whereby the bodies of men swell up like bladders; or the torture of the candles, whereby the soles of their feet or their armpits are burned and scorched; or the torture of the strappado, whereby their limbs are broken; or the torture of the four wagons that drags them asunder—and every time that a free soul breathes out its last upon the funeral pile let this man also endure in his turn these same deaths and tortures, to the end that he may learn in his own person what evil may be wrought in the world by an unjust man who has power over his fellows. Let him languish in prison, let him meet death upon the scaffold, let him mourn in exile, far from his native land, let him be scorned, abused, and flogged with many whips. Let him know what it is to be rich and see all his property eaten up by the tax-gatherer, let him be accused by informers and ruined by confiscations. Turn him into an ass that he may know what it is to be gentle by nature and at the same time ill-treated and badly fed; let him be a poor man that asks for alms and is answered only with abuse; let him be a workman that labours too long and eats too little; and then, when he has thus well suffered both in his body and his soul, turn him into a dog that he may be beaten, an Indian slave that he may be sold to the highest bidder, a soldier that he may fight for another and be killed without knowing why. And then, at the end of three hundred years, when he has exhausted all sufferings and all miseries, make a free man of him, and if in that state of life he is good like Claes here, you may lay at last his body to rest in some quiet corner of earth that is shady in the noonday heat and open to the morning sun, and there beneath a beautiful tree and covered with fresh sward, he shall find eternal repose. And his friends shall come to his grave to moisten it with their tears, and to sow violets there, which are called the flowers of remembrance.’
“But Mary said: ‘Have mercy upon him, O my Son; he knew not what he did, and we know how power hardens the heart.’
“‘There is no mercy for him,’ said Christ.
“‘Alas!’ cried His Sacred Majesty, ‘woe is me! Would that I had but a single glass of Andalusian wine!’
“‘Come,’ said Satan, ‘it is past the time for wine or meat or poultry!’
“And away he carried off the soul of the poor Emperor, down to the nethermost hell, still nibbling as he went his piece of anchovy. For this Satan suffered him to do out of pity.
“Thereafter I saw that Our Lady conducted Claes away and up into the highest heaven, where is nothing but stars hanging from the roof like clusters of grapes. And there the angels washed him clean, and he became all beautiful and young, and they gave him rystpap to drink in silver ladles. And then the heavens closed.”
“Claes is in glory,” said the widow.
“His ashes beat against my heart,” said Ulenspiegel.