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 of Officium 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.’”
This mediæval love of parody was not unfrequently displayed in a more popular form, and in the language of the people. In the Reliquæ 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.