第 四十 章 · Why monks are the outcasts o

Chapter 1.XL.

Why monks are the outcasts of the world; and wherefore some have bigger

noses than others.

By the faith of a Christian, said Eudemon, I do wonderfully dote and enter

in a great ecstasy when I consider the honesty and good fellowship of this

monk, for he makes us here all merry. How is it, then, that they exclude

the monks from all good companies, calling them feast-troublers, marrers of

mirth, and disturbers of all civil conversation, as the bees drive away the

drones from their hives? Ignavum fucos pecus, said Maro, a praesepibus

arcent. Hereunto, answered Gargantua, there is nothing so true as that the

frock and cowl draw unto itself the opprobries, injuries, and maledictions

of the world, just as the wind called Cecias attracts the clouds. The

peremptory reason is, because they eat the ordure and excrements of the

world, that is to say, the sins of the people, and, like dung-chewers and

excrementitious eaters, they are cast into the privies and secessive

places, that is, the convents and abbeys, separated from political

conversation, as the jakes and retreats of a house are. But if you

conceive how an ape in a family is always mocked and provokingly incensed,

you shall easily apprehend how monks are shunned of all men, both young and

old. The ape keeps not the house as a dog doth, he draws not in the plough

as the ox, he yields neither milk nor wool as the sheep, he carrieth no

burden as a horse doth. That which he doth, is only to conskite, spoil,

and defile all, which is the cause wherefore he hath of all men mocks,

frumperies, and bastinadoes.

After the same manner a monk--I mean those lither, idle, lazy monks--doth

not labour and work, as do the peasant and artificer; doth not ward and

defend the country, as doth the man of war; cureth not the sick and

diseased, as the physician doth; doth neither preach nor teach, as do the

evangelical doctors and schoolmasters; doth not import commodities and

things necessary for the commonwealth, as the merchant doth. Therefore is

it that by and of all men they are hooted at, hated, and abhorred. Yea,

but, said Grangousier, they pray to God for us. Nothing less, answered

Gargantua. True it is, that with a tingle tangle jangling of bells they

trouble and disquiet all their neighbours about them. Right, said the

monk; a mass, a matin, a vesper well rung, are half said. They mumble out

great store of legends and psalms, by them not at all understood; they say

many paternosters interlarded with Ave-Maries, without thinking upon or

apprehending the meaning of what it is they say, which truly I call mocking

of God, and not prayers. But so help them God, as they pray for us, and

not for being afraid to lose their victuals, their manchots, and good fat

pottage. All true Christians, of all estates and conditions, in all places

and at all times, send up their prayers to God, and the Mediator prayeth

and intercedeth for them, and God is gracious to them. Now such a one is

our good Friar John; therefore every man desireth to have him in his

company. He is no bigot or hypocrite; he is not torn and divided betwixt

reality and appearance; no wretch of a rugged and peevish disposition, but

honest, jovial, resolute, and a good fellow. He travels, he labours, he

defends the oppressed, comforts the afflicted, helps the needy, and keeps

the close of the abbey. Nay, said the monk, I do a great deal more than

that; for whilst we are in despatching our matins and anniversaries in the

choir, I make withal some crossbow-strings, polish glass bottles and bolts,

I twist lines and weave purse nets wherein to catch coneys. I am never

idle. But now, hither come, some drink, some drink here! Bring the fruit.

These chestnuts are of the wood of Estrox, and with good new wine are able

to make you a fine cracker and composer of bum-sonnets. You are not as

yet, it seems, well moistened in this house with the sweet wine and must.

By G--, I drink to all men freely, and at all fords, like a proctor or

promoter’s horse. Friar John, said Gymnast, take away the snot that hangs

at your nose. Ha, ha, said the monk, am not I in danger of drowning,

seeing I am in water even to the nose? No, no, Quare? Quia, though some

water come out from thence, there never goes in any; for it is well

antidoted with pot-proof armour and syrup of the vine-leaf.

Oh, my friend, he that hath winter-boots made of such leather may boldly

fish for oysters, for they will never take water. What is the cause, said

Gargantua, that Friar John hath such a fair nose? Because, said

Grangousier, that God would have it so, who frameth us in such form and for

such end as is most agreeable with his divine will, even as a potter

fashioneth his vessels. Because, said Ponocrates, he came with the first

to the fair of noses, and therefore made choice of the fairest and the

greatest. Pish, said the monk, that is not the reason of it, but,

according to the true monastical philosophy, it is because my nurse had

soft teats, by virtue whereof, whilst she gave me suck, my nose did sink in

as in so much butter. The hard breasts of nurses make children

short-nosed. But hey, gay, Ad formam nasi cognoscitur ad te levavi. I

never eat any confections, page, whilst I am at the bibbery. Item, bring

me rather some toasts.