The tradition that St. Paul was the saint that Richard III. was wont to conjure with, has found expression in the tragedy of Shakespeare. Faithful to the popular notions of the usurper’s characteristic, this form of oath has been placed upon Gloucester’s lips at each impassioned outburst. Henry V., in his wooing of Katherine, gallantly invokes St. Denis to aid him in his attempts at love-making. But the chronicler who seems positively to have had an affection for the oaths the memory of which he is recalling, is the historian Brantôme. Upon this unimpeachable testimony we learn that the oath of Louis XI. was par la Pâque Dieu, an affirmation that Scott avails himself of in his portraiture of that monarch in ‘Quentin Durward.’ This was succeeded by the jour de Dieu of Charles VIII.; by the diable m’emporte of Louis XII., and the foi de gentilhomme of Francis I. Among the Gascon oaths of Henry IV. the most usual was ventre Saint Gris. As for Charles IX., adds Brantôme, he swore in all fashions, and always like a sergeant who was leading a man to be hanged.[26]
The question has frequently been asked who was intended by the cognomen Saint Gris? The answer accorded by Le Duchat, a savant learned in such matters, is that Saint Francis d’Assise was the person indicated. It is true that Saint Francis was ceint by a hempen girdle, and, moreover, was clad in a habit of gris. But there nevertheless seems no reason to suppose that any individual personage was suggested, or, indeed, as has been stated, that the oath was of a Huguenot character. Says M. Charles Rozan,[27] who has had occasion to refer to this subject, Saint Gris is purely a creature of fancy, and was constituted a patron of drinkers, as St. Lâche was a patron of idlers and St. Nitouche of hypocrites.
The oath of William Rufus, per vultum de Lucca, has raised conjectures as to its probable signification. The literal meaning, “by Saint Luke’s face,” being rejected as not very intelligible, there remain two distinct explanations: one that it referred to the face of Christ as painted by St. Luke, the other that the portrait of Christ as preserved in the cathedral church at Lucca is the object intended. To support the first derivation, credence must be given to the legend which places the apostle among the artist craftsmen of Judæa, and has enshrined him as the patron saint of all workers in the arts. On the other hand, there has reposed for some centuries at Lucca a miraculous crucifix, famous alike for the marvels it has seen and accomplished. The Tuscan people set great store by the possession of this relic, and have engraved a representation of it upon their coins. The inscription upon the Tuscan florin, “Sanctus vultus de Lucca,” would seem, therefore, to be identical with the expletive of William Rufus.
We have seen how the occupants of the throne have usually comported themselves in the matter of oaths, but there is one recorded instance of Plantagenet royalty having created a singular precedent. If any man can be said to have ever had cause for swearing, Henry VI. might be described as being that individual. It is stated, however, by contemporaries who had opportunities for conversing with this king, and by whom it is given as a somewhat remarkable fact, that he was never known to swear under the greatest provocation.
The adage that enjoins us to repeat “no scandal about Queen Elizabeth” should dispose us to deal lightly with any verbal excesses committed by the virgin queen. It would appear, however, that the moral atmosphere of her court, despite the intellect and talent that adorned it, was not so refined or particular but that the sovereign and the ladies over their breakfasts of steaks and beer could ring out exclamations that to a later generation might appear of rather an astounding character.[28] To turn for comparison to the era of the next female majesty, it is questionable whether even Sarah Jennings, with all her power of abuse, would not have taken exception to the flavour of some of the Elizabethan adjectives.
A story is told of Edward VI., that at the time of arriving at the kingly dignity he gave way to a torrent of the most sonorous oaths. The pastors and masters charged with the well-being of the royal youth could not but stare in blank astonishment at the conduct of one so well nurtured as the child of Anne Boleyn. It transpired, however, that the young king had been given to believe by one of his associates that language of the kind was dignified and becoming in the person of a sovereign. Edward was asked to name the preceptor who had so ably supplemented the course of the royal education. This he instantly and innocently did, and was not a little surprised at the severe whipping that was administered to the delinquent.[29]
The predicament in which the royal child was placed is similar to that which once befel a clerical gentleman while travelling on mule-back across Syria. The Syrian muleteers are, it seems, accustomed to urge onward their beasts with the shout of “Yullah!” or “Bismillah!” and it was under the escort of these shouting and belabouring drivers that the traveller made his way into the town of Beyrout. His friends naturally inquired of him what progress he had made in Arabic, and in reply he told them he had only acquired two words, bakhshish for a present, and Yullah! for go-ahead. He was asked if he had used the latter word much on his way. Certainly, he said, he had used it all the way. “Then, your reverence,” replied his friend, “you have been swearing all the way through the Holy Land.”