Cloister and the Hearth — Chapter 53, Part 2

The reader stopped, and the tears trickled down her cheeks.

Gerard crying in Lorraine, made her cry at Rotterdam.

The leagues were no more to her heart than the breadth of a room.

Eli, softened by many touches in the letter, and by the reader's womanly graces, said kindly enough, “Take thy time, lass.

And methinks some of ye might find her a creepie to rest her foot, and she so near her own trouble.

” “I'd do more for her than that an I durst,” said Catherine.

“Here, Cornelis,” and she held out her little wooden stool, and that worthy, who hated Margaret worse than ever, had to take the creepie and put it carefully under her foot.

“You are very kind, dame,” she faltered.

“I will read on; 'tis all I can do for you in turn.

“Thus seeing my master ashy and sore shaken, I deemed this horrible tragic act came timeously to warn him, so I strove sore to turn him from his ill ways, discoursing of sinners and their lethal end.

'Too late!'

said he, 'too late!'

and gnashed his teeth.

Then I told him 'too late' was the divell's favourite whisper in repentant ears.

Said I-- 'The Lord is debonair, Let sinners nought despair.'

'Too late!'

said he, and gnashed his teeth, and writhed his face, as though vipers were biting his inward parts.

But, dear heart, his was a mind like running water.

Ere we cleared the town he was carolling, and outside the gate hung the other culprit, from the bough of a little tree, and scarce a yard above the ground.

And that stayed my vagabone's music.

But ere we had gone another furlong, he feigned to have dropped his, rosary, and ran back, with no good intent, as you shall hear.

I strolled on very slowly, and often halting, and presently he came stumping up on one leg, and that bandaged.

I asked him how he could contrive that, for 'twas masterly done.

'Oh, that was his mystery.

Would I know that, I must join the brotherhood.'

And presently we did pass a narrow lane, and at the mouth on't espied a written stone, telling beggars by a word like a wee pitchfork to go that way.

''Tis yon farmhouse,' said he: 'bide thou at hand.'

And he went to the house, and came back with money, food, and wine.

'This lad did the business,' said he, slapping his one leg proudly.

Then he undid the bandage, and with prideful face showed me a hole in his calf you could have put your neef in.

Had I been strange to his tricks, here was a leg had drawn my last penny.

Presently another farmhouse by the road.

He made for it.

I stood, and asked myself, should I run away and leave him, not to be shamed in my own despite by him?

But while I doubted, there was a great noise, and my master well cudgelled by the farmer and his men, came towards me hobbling and holloaing, for the peasants had laid on heartily.

But more trouble was at his heels.

Some mischievous wight loosed a dog as big as a jackass colt, and came roaring after him, and downed him momently.

I,

deeming the poor rogue's death certain, and him least fit to die, drew my sword and ran shouting.

But ere I could come near, the muckle dog had torn away his bad leg, and ran growling to his lair with it; and Cul de Jatte slipped his knot, and came running like a lapwing, with his hair on end, and so striking with both crutches before and behind at unreal dogs as 'twas like a windmill crazed.

He fled adown the road.

I followed leisurely, and found him at dinner.

'Curse the quiens,' said he.

And not a word all dinner time but 'Curse the quiens!'

“I said, I must know who' they were, before I would curse them.

“'Quiens?

why, that was dogs.

And I knew not even that much?

He had made a bad bargain.

Well, well,' said he, 'to-morrow we shall be in Germany.

There the folk are music bitten, and they molest not beggars, unless they fake to boot, and then they drown us out of hand that moment, curse 'em!'

We came to Strasbourg.

And I looked down Rhine with longing heart.

The stream how swift!

It seemed running to clip Sevenbergen to its soft bosom.

With but a piece of timber and an oar I might drift at my ease to thee, sleeping yet gliding still.

'Twas a sore temptation.

But the fear of an ill welcome from my folk, and of the neighbours' sneers, and the hope of coming back to thee victorious, not, as now I must, defeated and shamed, and thee with me, it did withhold me; and so, with many sighs, and often turning of the head to look on beloved Rhine, I turned sorrowful face and heavy heart towards Augsburg.

” “Alas, dame, alas!

Good master Eli, forgive me!

But I ne'er can win over this part all at one time.

It taketh my breath away.

Welladay!

Why did he not listen to his heart?

Had he not gone through peril enow, sorrow enow?

Well-a-day!

well-a-day!

” The letter dropped from her hand, and she drooped like a wounded lily.

Then there was a clatter on the floor, and it was little Kate going on her crutches, with flushed face, and eyes full of pity, to console her.

“Water, mother,” she cried.

“I am afeared she shall swoon.

” “Nay, nay, fear me not,” said Margaret feebly.

“I will not be so troublesome.

Thy good-will it maketh me stouter hearted, sweet mistress Kate.

For, if thou carest how I fare, sure Heaven is not against me.

” Catherine.

“D'ye hear that, my man!

” Eli.

“Ay, wife, I hear; and mark to boot.

” Little Kate went back to her place, and Margaret read on.

“The Germans are fonder of armorials than the French.

So I found work every day.

And whiles I wrought, my master would leave me, and doff his raiment and don his rags, and other infirmities, and cozen the world, which he did clepe it 'plucking of the goose:' this done, would meet me and demand half my earnings; and with restless piercing eye ask me would I be so base as cheat my poor master by making three parts in lieu of two, till I threatened to lend him a cuff to boot in requital of his suspicion; and thenceforth took his due, with feigned confidence in my good faith, the which his dancing eye belied.

Early in Germany we had a quarrel.

I had seen him buy a skull of a jailer's wife, and mighty zealous a polishing it.

Thought I, 'How can he carry yon memento, and not repent, seeing where ends his way?'

Presently I did catch him selling it to a woman for the head of St. Barnabas, with a tale had cozened an Ebrew.

So I snatched it out of their hands, and trundled it into the ditch.

'How, thou impious knave,' said I, 'wouldst sell for a saint the skull of some dead thief, thy brother?'

He slunk away.

But shallow she did crawl after the skull, and with apron reverently dust it for Barnabas, and it Barabbas; and so home with it.

Said I, 'Non vult anser velli, sed populus vult decipi.'

” Catherine.

“Oh, the goodly Latin!

” Eli.

“What meaneth it?

” Catherine.

“Nay, I know not; but 'tis Latin; is not that enow?

He was the flower of the flock.

” “Then I to him, 'Take now thy psaltery, and part we here, for art a walking prison, a walking hell.'

But lo!

my master fell on his knees, and begged me for pity's sake not turn him off.

'What would become of him?

He did so love honesty.'

'Thou love honesty?'

said I. 'Ay,' said he, 'not to enact it; the saints forbid.

But to look on.

'Tis so fair a thing to look on.

Alas, good Bon Bec,' said he; 'hadst starved peradventure but for me.

Kick not down thy ladder!

Call ye that just?

Nay, calm thy choler!

Have pity on me!

I must have a pal; and how could I bear one like myself after one so simple as thou?

He might cut my throat for the money that is hid in my belt.

'Tis not much; 'tis not much.

With thee I walk at mine ease; with a sharp I dare not go before in a narrow way.

Alas!

forgive me.

Now I know where in thy bonnet lurks the bee, I will ware his sting; I will but pluck the secular goose.

'So be it,' said I. 'And example was contagious: he should be a true man by then we reached Nurnberg.

'Twas a long way to Nurnberg.'

Seeing him so humble, I said, 'well, doff rags, and make thyself decent; 'twill help me forget what thou art.'

And he did so; and we sat down to our nonemete.

Presently came by a reverend palmer with hat stuck round with cockle shells from Holy Land, and great rosary of beads like eggs of teal, and sandals for shoes.

And he leaned a-weary on his long staff, and offered us a shell apiece.

My master would none.

But I, to set him a better example, took one, and for it gave the poor pilgrim two batzen, and had his blessing.

And he was scarce gone, when we heard savage cries, and came a sorry sight, one leading a wild woman in a chain, all rags and howling like a wolf.

And when they came nigh us, she fell to tearing her rags to threads.

The man sought an alms of us, and told us his hard case.

'Twas his wife stark raving mad; and he could not work in the fields, and leave her in his house to fire it, nor cure her could be without the Saintys' help, and had vowed six pounds of wax to St. Anthony to heal her, and so was fain beg of charitable folk for the money.

And now she espied us, and flew at me with her long nails, and I was cold with fear, so devilish showed, her face and rolling eyes and nails like birdys talons.

But he with the chain checked her sudden, and with his whip did cruelly lash her for it, that I cried, 'Forbear!

forbear!

She knoweth not what she doth;' and gave him a batz.

And being gone, said I, 'Master, of those twain I know not which is the more pitiable.'

And he laughed in my face, 'Behold thy justice, Bon Bec,' said he.

'Thou railest on thy poor, good, within an ace of honest master, and bestowest alms on a “vopper.

”' 'Vopper,' said I, 'what is a vopper?'

'why, a trull that feigns madness.

That was one of us, that sham maniac, and wow but she did it clumsily.

I blushed for her and thee.

Also gavest two batzen for a shell from Holy Land, that came no farther than Normandy.

I have culled them myself on that coast by scores, and sold them to pilgrims true and pilgrims false, to gull flats like thee withal.'

'What!'

said I; 'that reverend man?'

'One of us!'

cried Cul de Jatte; 'one of us!

In France we call them “Coquillarts,” but here “Calmierers.

” Railest on me for selling a false relic now and then, and wastest thy earnings on such as sell nought else.

I tell thee, Bon Bec,' said he, 'there is not one true relic on earth's face.

The Saints died a thousand years agone, and their bones mixed with the dust; but the trade in relics, it is of yesterday; and there are forty thousand tramps in Europe live by it; selling relics of forty or fifty bodies; oh, threadbare lie!

And of the true Cross enow to build Cologne Minster.

Why, then, may not poor Cul de Jatte turn his penny with the crowd?

Art but a scurvy tyrannical servant to let thy poor master from his share of the swag with your whoreson pilgrims, palmers and friars, black, grey, and crutched; for all these are of our brotherhood, and of our art, only masters they, and we but poor apprentices, in guild.'

For his tongue was an ell and a half.

“'A truce to thy irreverend sophistries,' said I, 'and say what company is this a coming.'

'Bohemians,' cried he, 'Ay, ay, this shall be the rest of the band.'

With that came along so motley a crew as never your eyes beheld, dear Margaret.

Marched at their head one with a banner on a steel-pointed lance, and girded with a great long sword, and in velvet doublet and leathern jerkin, the which stuffs ne'er saw I wedded afore on mortal flesh, and a gay feather in his lordly cap, and a couple of dead fowls at his back, the which, an the spark had come by honestly, I am much mistook.

Him followed wives and babes on two lean horses, whose flanks still rattled like parchment drum, being beaten by kettles and caldrons.

Next an armed man a-riding of a horse, which drew a cart full of females and children; and in it, sitting backwards, a lusty lazy knave, lance in hand, with his luxurious feet raised on a holy water-pail, that lay along, and therein a cat, new kittened, sat glowing o'er her brood, and sparks for eyes.

And the cart-horse cavalier had on his shoulders a round bundle, and thereon did perch a cock and crowed with zeal, poor ruffler, proud of his brave feathers as the rest, and haply with more reason, being his own.

And on an ass another wife and new-born child; and one poor quean a-foot scarce dragged herself along, so near her time was she, yet held two little ones by the hand, and helplessly helped them on the road.

And the little folk were just a farce; some rode sticks, with horses' heads, between their legs, which pranced and caracoled, and soon wearied the riders so sore, they stood stock still and wept, which cavaliers were presently taken into cart and cuffed.

And one, more grave, lost in a man's hat and feather, walked in Egyptian darkness, handed by a girl; another had the great saucepan on his back, and a tremendous three-footed clay-pot sat on his head and shoulders, swallowing him so as he too went darkling led by his sweetheart three foot high.

When they were gone by, and we had both laughed lustily, said I, 'Natheless, master, my bowels they yearn for one of that tawdry band, even for the poor wife so near the downlying, scarce able to drag herself, yet still, poor soul, helping the weaker on the way.'

Catherine.

“Nay, nay, Margaret.

Why, wench, pluck up heart.

Certes thou art no Bohemian.

” Kate.

“Nay, mother, 'tis not that, I trow, but her father.

And, dear heart, why take notice to put her to the blush?

” Richart.

“So I say.

” “And he derided me.

'Why, that is a “biltreger,”' said he, 'and you waste your bowels on a pillow, or so forth.'

I told him he lied.

'Time would show,' said he, 'wait till they camp.'

And rising after meat and meditation, and travelling forward, we found them camped between two great trees on a common by the wayside; and they had lighted a great fire, and on it was their caldron; and one of the trees slanting o'er the fire, a kid hung down by a chain from the tree-fork to the fire, and in the fork was wedged an urchin turning still the chain to keep the meat from burning, and a gay spark with a feather in his cap cut up a sheep; and another had spitted a leg of it on a wooden stake; and a woman ended chanticleer's pride with wringing of his neck.

And under the other tree four rufflers played at cards and quarrelled, and no word sans oath; and of these lewd gamblers one had cockles in his hat and was my reverend pilgrim.

And a female, young and comely, and dressed like a butterfly, sat and mended a heap of dirty rags.

And Cul de Jatte said, 'Yon is the “vopper,”' and I looked incredulous and looked again, and it was so, and at her feet sat he that had so late lashed her; but I ween he had wist where to strike, or woe betide him; and she did now oppress him sore, and made him thread her very needle, the which he did with all humility; so was their comedy turned seamy side without; and Cul de Jatte told me 'twas still so with 'voppers' and their men in camp; they would don their bravery though but for an hour, and with their tinsel, empire, and the man durst not the least gainsay the 'vopper,' or she would turn him off at these times, as I my master, and take another tyrant more submissive.

And my master chuckled over me.

Natheless we soon espied a wife set with her back against the tree, and her hair down, and her face white, and by her side a wench held up to her eye a newborn babe, with words of cheer, and the rough fellow, her husband, did bring her hot wine in a cup, and bade her take courage.

And just o'er the place she sat, they had pinned from bough to bough of those neighbouring trees two shawls, and blankets two, together, to keep the drizzle off her.

And so had another poor little rogue come into the world; and by her own particular folk tended gipsywise, but of the roasters, and boilers, and voppers, and gamblers, no more noticed, no, not for a single moment, than sheep which droppeth her lamb in a field, by travellers upon the way.

Then said I, 'What of thy foul suspicions, master?

over-knavery blinds the eye as well as over-simplicity.'

And he laughed and said, 'Triumph, Bon Bec, triumph.

The chances were nine in ten against thee.'

Then I did pity her, to be in a crowd at such a time; but he rebuked me.

'I should pity rather your queens and royal duchesses, which by law are condemned to groan in a crowd of nobles and courtiers, and do writhe with shame as, well as sorrow, being come of decent mothers, whereas these gipsy women have no more shame under their skins than a wolf ruth, or a hare valour.

And, Bon Bec,' quoth he, 'I espy in thee a lamentable fault.

Wastest thy bowels, wilt have none left for thy poor good master which doeth thy will by night and day.'

Then we came forward; and he talked with the men in some strange Hebrew cant whereof no word knew I; and the poor knaves bade us welcome and denied us nought.

With them, and all they had, 'twas lightly come and lightly go; and when we left them, my master said to me 'This is thy first lesson, but to-night we shall lie at Hansburgh.

Come with me to the “rotboss” there, and I'll show thee all our folk and their lays, and especially “the lossners,” “the dutzers,” “the schleppers,” “the gickisses,” “the schwanfelders, whom in England we call “shivering Jemmies,” “the suntvegers,” “the schwiegers,” “the joners,” “the sesseldegers,” “the gensscherers,” in France “marcandiers or rifodes,” “the veranerins,” “the stabulers,” with a few foreigners like ourselves, such as “pietres,” “francmitoux,” “polissons” “malingreux,” “traters,” “rufflers,” “whipjalks,” “dommerars,” “glymmerars,” “jarkmen,” “patricos,” “swadders,” “autem morts,” “walking morts” 'Enow,' cried I, stopping him, 'art as gleesome as the Evil One a counting of his imps.

I'll jot down in my tablet all these caitiffs and their accursed names: for knowledge is knowledge.

But go among them, alive or dead, that will I not with my good will.

Moreover,' said I, 'what need?

since I have a companion in thee who is all the knaves on earth in one?'

and thought to abash him but his face shone with pride, and hand on breast he did bow low to me.

'If thy wit be scant, good Bon Bec, thy manners are a charm.

I have made a good bargain.'

So he to the 'rotboss,' and I to a decent inn, and sketched the landlord's daughter by candle-light, and started at morn batzen three the richer, but could not find my master, so loitered slowly on, and presently met him coming west for me, and cursing the quiens.

Why so?

Because he could blind the culls but not the quiens.

At last I prevailed on him to leave cursing and canting, and tell me his adventure.

Said he, 'I sat outside the gate of yon monastery, full of sores, which I sho'ed the passers-by.

Oh, Bon Bec, beautifuller sores you never saw; and it rained coppers in my hat.

Presently the monks came home from some procession, and the convent dogs ran out to meet them, curse the quiens!'

'What, did they fall on thee and bite thee, poor soul?'

'Worse, worse, dear Bon Bec.

Had they bitten me I had earned silver.

But the great idiots, being, as I think, puppies, or little better, fell on me where I sat, downed me, and fell a licking my sores among them.

As thou, false knave, didst swear the whelps in heaven licked the sores of Lazybones, a beggar of old.'

'Nay, nay,' said I, 'I said no such thing.

But tell me, since they bit thee not, but sportfully licked thee, what harm?'

'What harm, noodle; why, the sores came off.'

'How could that be?'

'How could aught else be?

and them just fresh put on.

Did I think he was so weak as bite holes in his flesh with ratsbane?

Nay, he was an artist, a painter, like his servant, and had put on sores made of pig's blood, rye meal, and glue.

So when the folk saw my sores go on tongues of puppies, they laughed, and I saw cord or sack before me.

So up I jumped, and shouted, “A miracle a miracle!

The very dogs of this holy convent be holy, and have cured me.

Good fathers,” cried I, “whose day is this?

” “St. Isidore's,” said one.

“St. Isidore,” cried I, in a sort of rapture.

“Why, St. Isidore is my patron saint: so that accounts.

” And the simple folk swallowed my miracle as those accursed quiens my wounds.

But the monks took me inside and shut the gate, and put their heads together; but I have a quick ear, and one did say, “Caret miraculo monasterium,” which is Greek patter, leastways it is no beggar's cant.

Finally they bade the lay brethren give me a hiding, and take me out a back way and put me on the road, and threatened me did I come back to the town to hand me to the magistrate and have me drowned for a plain impostor.

“Profit now by the Church's grace,” said they, “and mend thy ways.

” So forward, Bon Bec, for my life is not sure nigh hand this town.'

As we went he worked his shoulders, 'Wow but the brethren laid on.

And what means yon piece of monk's cant, I wonder?'

So I told him the words meant 'the monastery is in want of a miracle,' but the application thereof was dark to me.

'Dark,' cried he, 'dark as noon.

Why, it means they are going to work the miracle, my miracle, and gather all the grain I sowed.

Therefore these blows on their benefactor's shoulders; therefore is he that wrought their scurry miracle driven forth with stripes and threats.

Oh, cozening knaves!'

Said I, 'Becomes you to complain of guile.'

'Alas, Bon Bec,' said he, 'I but outwit the simple, but these monks would pluck Lucifer of his wing feathers.'

And went a league bemoaning himself that he was not convent-bred like his servant 'He would put it to more profit;' and railing on quiens.

'And as for those monks, there was one Above.'

'Certes,' said I, 'there is one Above.

What then?'

'Who will call those shavelings to compt, one day,' quoth he.

'And all deceitful men' said I.

At one that afternoon I got armories to paint: so my master took the yellow jaundice and went begging through the town, and with his oily tongue, and saffron-water face, did fill his hat.

Now in all the towns are certain licensed beggars, and one of these was an old favourite with the townsfolk: had his station at St. Martin's porch, the greatest church: a blind man: they called him blind Hans.

He saw my master drawing coppers on the other side the street, and knew him by his tricks for an impostor, so sent and warned the constables, and I met my master in the constables' hands, and going to his trial in the town hall.

I

followed and many more; and he was none abashed, neither by the pomp of justice, nor memory of his misdeeds, but demanded his accuser like a trumpet.

And blind Hans's boy came forward, but was sifted narrowly by my master, and stammered and faltered, and owned he had seen nothing, but only carried blind Hans's tale to the chief constable.

'This is but hearsay,' said my master.

'Lo ye now, here standeth Misfortune backbit by Envy.

But stand thou forth, blind Envy, and vent thine own lie.'

And blind Hans behoved to stand forth, sore against his will.

Him did my master so press with questions, and so pinch and torture, asking him again and again, how, being blind, he could see all that befell, and some that befell not, across a way; and why, an he could not see, he came there holding up his perjured hand, and maligning the misfortunate, that at last he groaned aloud and would utter no word more.

And an alderman said, 'In sooth, Hans, ye are to blame; hast cast more dirt of suspicion on thyself than on him.'

But the burgomaster, a wondrous fat man, and methinks of his fat some had gotten into his head, checked him, and said, 'Nay, Hans we know this many years, and be he blind or not, he hath passed for blind so long, 'tis all one.

Back to thy porch, good Hans, and let the strange varlet leave the town incontinent on pain of whipping.'

Then my master winked to me; but there rose a civic officer in his gown of state and golden chain, a Dignity with us lightly prized, and even shunned of some, but in Germany and France much courted, save by condemned malefactors, to wit the hangman; and says he, 'Ant please you, first let us see why he weareth his hair so thick and low.'

And his man went and lifted Cul de Jatte's hair, and lo, the upper gristle of both ears was gone.

'How is this knave?

quoth the burgomaster.

My master said carelessly, he minded not precisely: his had been a life of misfortunes and losses.

When a poor soul has lost the use of his leg, noble sirs, these more trivial woes rest lightly in his memory.'

When he found this would not serve his turn, he named two famous battles, in each of which he had lost half an ear, a fighting like a true man against traitors and rebels.

But the hangman showed them the two cuts were made at one time, and by measurement.

''Tis no bungling soldiers' work, my masters,' said he, ''tis ourn.'

Then the burgomaster gave judgment: 'The present charge is not proven against thee; but, an thou beest not guilty now, thou hast been at other times, witness thine ears.

Wherefore I send thee to prison for one month, and to give a florin towards the new hall of the guilds now a building, and to be whipt out of the town, and pay the hangman's fee for the same.'

And all the aldermen approved, and my master was haled to prison with one look of anguish.

It did strike my bosom.

I tried to get speech of him, but the jailer denied me.

But lingering near the jail I heard a whistle, and there was Cul de Jatte at a narrow window twenty feet from earth.

I went under, and he asked me what made I there?

I told him I was loath to go forward and not bid him farewell.

He seemed quite amazed; but soon his suspicious soul got the better.

That was not all mine errand.

I told him not all: the psaltery: 'Well, what of that?'

'Twas not mine, but his; I would pay him the price of it.

'Then throw me a rix dollar,' said he.

I counted out my coins, and they came to a rix dollar and two batzen.

I threw him up his money in three throws, and when he had got it all he said, softly, 'Bon Bec.'

'Master,' said I. Then the poor rogue was greatly moved.

'I thought ye had been mocking me,' said he; 'oh, Bon Bec, Bon Bec, if I had found the world like thee at starting I had put my wit to better use, and I had not lain here.'

Then he whimpered out, 'I gave not quite a rix dollar for the jingler;' and threw me back that he had gone to cheat me of; honest for once, and over late; and so, with many sighs, bade me Godspeed.

Thus did my master, after often baffling men's justice, fall by their injustice; for his lost ears proved not his guilt only, but of that guilt the bitter punishment: so the account was even; yet they for his chastisement did chastise him.

Natheless he was a parlous rogue.

Yet he holp to make a man of me.

Thanks to his good wit I went forward richer far with my psaltery and brush, than with yon as good as stolen purse; for that must have run dry in time, like a big trough, but these a little fountain.

” Richart.