was bitter cold. Yet it fortuned that Owlglass had urgent reason to
travel, for his occasions never happened to keep him in one place or
city for any time. And as the night drew near, Owlglass came unto a
village, and there entered into the inn and the chamber where the guests
and village gossips sate talking around the fire. Our noble master was
covered over with sleet and snow, and the frost had bitten him sore and
his garments held within them icy proofs of the wintry season; yet for
as much as the boors concealed the fire he could not warm himself.
Thereat he cried out lustily for good master host that he should bring
him some wine, the which was readily done. And Owlglass opened his mouth
and spake unto the host after this wise: “Good mine host, I beseech thee
do thou allot unto me a candle in a lanthorn, and one which should go
forth with me unto the road, for there lieth by the way, a money-girdle,
the which I have lost; and though I sought it diligently, yet by reason
of the darkness of the night, could I not discover it.” But the host
answered: “Nay, but this night seek not after it, for where it lieth
shall we find it to-morrow at sun-rise, and there will be no harm come
thereunto.” And he said this, for that he was wily, and would have
sought it himself, and taken it. And the boors which were talking about
the fire, pricked me up their ears, and one by one departed out of the
inn that they might seek the money-girdle, so that at last the chimney
nook was empty, and Master Owlglass might, with comfort, drink his wine
in the warmth, while the others delved and digged in the snow abroad.
When that they were all departed thence, Owlglass discovered the
pleasant jest unto the host, and they laughed hugely, and drank in the
ingle a most joyous cup thereupon.
The Eighty and Second Adventure.
_How that Owlglass did at Bremen of the market-women buy milk, and cause
it to be poured altogether into one tun._
A pleasant jest wrought Owlglass at Bremen. At one season when that he
came thither, he stood on the market, and he beheld that the boors’
women brought great store of milk thereto; and therewith he ’gan to
think what a merry piece of knavery he might perform. Therefore he
tarried awhile until a day on which the market was very full, and much
milk was brought thither, and he fetched him a great tun, the which he
set upon the market-place, and cried aloud unto the boors’ women that
they should turn unto him, for he would buy their milk, and they should
pour it into the tun. And every good wife of the which he took milk he
bade write the measure and price therefor, upon a paper, and then sit
down, for he would pay the money when that the tun was filled.
So the boors’ wives sat in a circle around Owlglass, and waited for
their money, and rejoiced greatly at such a noble milk merchant (for
they knew him not); and it came to pass, that after a while there was
not any other good wife who had milk to sell. Then Owlglass opened his
mouth and spake unto the women, and said unto them these words: “To-day
have I not any money in pouch. And such of ye as cannot abide and give
me credit for a matter of fourteen days, would do best to take forth her
milk again:” and having thus maliciously ended his speech, he hasted to
go away from the market-place. Thereafter contended the boors’ wives
with much anger, and each would fain take her milk out of the tun first,
and in their quarrelings the milk was spilled on the ground and on their
clothes, and in their eyes; and it did most certainly appear as if milk
from the clouds had been rained down. And all the townspeople beheld the
merry conceit, and they were greatly contented with the wit of Master
Owlglass.
The Eighty and Third Adventure.
_How that Owlglass spake unto twelve blind men, and persuaded them that
he had unto them given twelve shillings; and how that they spent the
money and came evilly off thereafter._
And, it came to pass, that as Owlglass journeyed hither and thither up
and down in the land, like an uneasy spirit as he was, he came again
unto Hanover, and there he wrought not a few strange things. Therefore
one day as he sate upon his horse beyond the city gate and rode a good
way, there came along the road twelve blind men, the which he
encountered. When that he beheld them he cried aloud unto them: “God
give ye grace, blind men, whence come ye?” Then the company of blind men
stood still and perceived that he sate upon a horse, and by that they
judged him to be an honest gentleman—for respect is always due to one
who is a cavalier; and who rides must needs be honest—so they took off
their hats and saluted him, and spake unto him, saying: “Lo! noble and
worshipful sir, good kind Christian gentleman, we have been within this
city of Hanover; there had a rich man given up the ghost, and at his
funeral feast were alms and baked meats bestowed upon us and other poor
men, as be we. Yet for as much as frost and snow be on the ground, we
were right sorely pinched with the cold.” Then answered Owlglass, and
said unto them: “Ye say truly that it is cold; I fear me that of frost
ye will utterly perish. Now look you, here be twelve shillings, enter ye
again into the city, and get ye unto such an inn, [and he told them what
inn they should seek], and spend ye these twelve shillings for God his
grace and my sake, until that the winter be gone by, and ye be able to
again set forth in comfort upon your voyage.”
Then the blind men stood in great honour and worship of the noble
gentleman’s person, and bowed themselves before him, and gave him their
thanks for his guerdon. For each blind man believed that his neighbour
had received the money, to wit, in the manner that the first thought the
second had it, and the second the third, and the third the fourth; and
after this wise were they all hoodwinked, for not one stiver had
Owlglass bestowed upon them. Thereafter they turned back, and gat them
unto the hostel of the which Owlglass had told them; and when they had
entered in, they spake unto the host, and told him how that it had come
to pass that a good charitable gentleman had encountered them by the
way, and had bestowed upon them twelve shillings, that they might eat
and rejoice during the hard winter, until that spring should come again.
Now the host was a man greedy of gain, and he thought no more upon that
saying, but how he might get the money; and he received them, and never
did he dream within his stupid sconce to ask which had the money in
pouch of them all. But he spake unto them, saying: “Dear and beloved
brethren, ye shall here receive satisfaction, and your afflictions shall
be comforted.” And he made haste to kill and hew down oxen and calves;
and he made ready meats boiled and roast, and set them before the blind
men, who fell to right gladly; and this feasting went forward every day,
until he thought that they had eaten the value of the twelve shillings.
Then he spake unto them, and said: “Dear brethren, ye have eaten the
value of the twelve shillings, methinks, let us therefore reckon.” And
the blind men answered: “Yea;” and spake each unto his fellow, that he
should take forth the twelve shillings, that good master host should be
rewarded. But the one had it not, neither had the other; moreover they
found that not a penny had any man of their company. And the blind folk
sate still and scratched their pates, but found not the twelve shillings
anywhere behind their ears; and they perceived that they had been
beguiled. Then the host saw likewise that he had been cozened of his
charges, and he sate there, and pondered what he should do. For he
thought within himself: “Here be a company of blind rascals, and if that
thou permittest them to depart, then dost thou lose thy charges; and if
that thou keepest them will they eat yet more, and then thou wilt be at
double cost.” So with no more ado he claps me the blind company of dear
brethren into the pig-stye, and there may they make fine cheer with hay
and straw.
At this time, Owlglass ’gan to think,—for with all his malice he had a
good heart:—“Nay, but thy blind men must very nigh have eaten up the
provision thou madest for them, and therefore go thou and seek news of
them.” And he saddled his horse and disguised himself, and rode unto
Hanover, and came unto the inn where the blind men lay. Thereupon, as he
came into the court, and would have bound his horse up in the stable, he
looked, and behold the blind men lay in the pig-stye. Thereat he gat him
into the house, and spake unto the host, and said unto him: “What is
this thing which thou hast done unto these blind men? Wherefore be they
amidst the dirt and mire of the pig-stye? Have ye no bowels of mercy
when ye see the vile fare they eat?” And the host answered him: “Nay,
but I wish that in the water they lay all perished, if only my charges
were paid.” Therewith telleth he unto Owlglass the whole story of the
matter. Owlglass said unto him: “How, sir host, could ye not have a
surety for this debt?” “Alas!” quoth the host, “right gladly would I
have a surety if that it could be—and if that a certain surety be found,
I would set free these poor men forthwith.” Thereat said Owlglass unto
him: “See now, I will go and in this city make quest, if that I can find
some charitable man that will do this thing for thee.”
So Owlglass gat him forth, and came unto the priest of the parish, and
said unto him: “Most reverend and learned sir, hast thou a will to do a
Christian kindness? For lo! I must expound unto thee, that mine host of
the inn where I lie is possessed of an evil spirit within the past
night, and he beggeth hard that ye would exorcise him, and cast out the
evil demon.” The priest answered, and said: “Yea, that I will most
cheerfully; for is it not mine office? Yet must we tarry a day or two;
for with such things is haste greatly to be avoided.” Then quoth
Owlglass: “I will go fetch his wife, that ye may repeat this thing unto
her.” The priest replied: “Yea, bring her unto me, I warrant she shall
be content.” Then departed Owlglass, and gat him to the host, and said:
“I have found for thee a surety in good master parson of the parish.
Give me now thy wife to bear me company unto him; for he will give her
satisfaction.” Thereat was the host right glad, and bade his wife
immediately resort with Owlglass unto the priest; and when they came
thither, Owlglass said: “Behold, reverend sir, here is the woman, wife
unto the host of the which I spake anon. Assure her now as before thou
didst assure me.” And the priest said: “Yea, my good woman; be thou
content. For is it not mine office to do deeds of charity? That which
thy husband seeketh shall be in a short time performed within these few
days.” And the woman was content, and returned again unto her husband,
and said unto him, that the priest would perform the payment duly; and
then was the host glad, and let the blind men depart, and rewarded
Owlglass for his pains; and this last set forth on his journey, and
tarried no longer in Hanover.
The third day after this, the woman went again to master parson, and
demanded of him, that he should pay the twelve shillings. And he asked
her, if her husband had said this thing unto her; and she said: “Yea.”
Thereat he observed, “that such was the way with evil spirits; they
would always have money.” But the woman said: “There be no evil spirits
here; pay ye the charges, and therewith are we ended.” The priest quoth
thereat: “I was admonished that your good man was possessed of an evil
spirit, the which he would fain have cast forth; now this will I do, but
of money know I nothing.” To him straightway answered the goodwife:
“Nay, but this is the fashion with liars and shufflers; when that money
is to be paid, they would with knavery escape. If that my husband be of
an evil spirit beset, ye shall surely be advised thereof,” and therewith
ran speedily unto her husband, and told him what the parson said.
After this took the host halberts and pikes, and ran with a company unto
the parsonage. And when the parson beheld it, he cried aloud, and
assembled his neighbours, and said unto them: “Do you, I charge ye, help
me against this madman, who of an evil demon is sore possessed.” And the
host said unto him: “Priest, remember thy surety, and do now pay me.”
But the priest stood and blessed himself, and payed not at all. Then
would the host have with a goodly staff stricken the priest, but that
the boors came and parted the twain with great difficulty. But, so long
as the host lived, he was ever seeking payment from the priest; and the
priest affirmed that he had an evil spirit, and of that would he free
him, but of money owed he unto him not a doit.
Thus fell out the end of the excellent adventure of Owlglass with the
blind men, the host, and the parson.
The Eighty and Fourth Adventure.
_How that in a city of Saxony Owlglass sowed knaves._
Knaves abound in many places; there be knaves of every degree: there be
black knaves, white knaves, copper-coloured knaves, red knaves, and
yellow knaves. There be knaves which ride in coaches and waggons; there
be knaves on horseback; there be knaves on foot. There be knaves of high
degree; there be knaves of low estate. There be knaves in Holy Church,
devout knaves, which cheat heaven in their prayers, and earth in their
tithes; there be knaves out of Holy Church, which, for wise reasons, do
simulate a contempt thereof; there be knaves which buy, and there be
knaves which sell; there be knaves which, with honest mien, declare
themselves no better than they be, for thou in thy vanity condemnest
them not, but thinkest them better than their speech declareth, and yet
be these very knaves, sorry knaves, and shallow knaves. There be knaves
which bear rule, and there be knaves over which rule is borne; there be
knaves which bow the knee to knavish kings, princes, and lords; and
there be knaves which set foot forth against all rulers, princes, and
governors. There be knaves which help ye with seeming good fellowship,
and there be knaves which, by opposing ye, do ye true service; there be
knaves which amuse ye; there be knaves which laugh in turn at that which
ye do: lo! indeed, not in this world can ye find any place which is
devoid of knaves, creeping like caterpillars through your gardens, and
destroying your fairest flowers, to fatten and batten, and crawl and die
like other things.
Knaves sit smiling by your own hearthstone, deluding ye with love and
fair service—your children be knaves, your fathers were knaves;—for in
this world are secrets hidden—and, indeed, are we unto ourselves not
true, but knaves altogether, excusing, palliating, concealing, hugging,
with not a little fear and trembling, our favourite vices, or our evil
desires. O what a discourse of knavery would a history of our mad world
be, what quaking terrors of evil doings, what fierce self-destructions,
what insane flight from self-condemning would be unfolded! Let us
rejoice, my masters, that a little spice of honesty leaveneth the whole
lump and maketh life endurable, our meat not poison, our porridge not
altogether rat’s-bane. And truly this chronicle affirmeth, averreth, and
with loud voice saith, that an if such words as these had been set down
in courteous phrase, and not hurled from the priest’s pulpit or babbled
from the fool’s booth, ye had not received, but had denied utterly the
gracious assent which I do perceive sitteth upon your heart; thus,
therefore, like all other things, is this chronicle but a knavish
matter.
Of a truth, it may be most certainly believed, that to such a world it
was necessary and fit, that a pitying eye and brain should see, and
purpose despatch, from highest heaven to insulted earth a Prince of
peace and justice. But in this chronicle, as in this world, is all
honesty discarded; for the world is so turned topside t’ other way, that
it may not be that we should distinguish gentle from simple, wise from
foolish, honest man from knave. “Yet be of good cheer,” saith One who is
higher than any of us; “I have overcome the world.”
Yet in one little town of Saxony espied Owlglass, when that he was
therein, that not within its walls there could be a knave; yet might
this be, for that he was strange unto the devices and nature of the folk
which dwelt therein; and he fell into a deep contemplation and musing
upon such a marvellous matter. And he took his way beside of the river
Weser, the more at ease to reflect thereover. For while that he abode in
that city, beheld he all that was done by the folk therein; and so
strangely honest appeared their dealings, that he was tired and sick at
heart with folk among whom he could not have any profit. And as he took
his way along the bank of the Weser, he looked, and, behold! of pebbles
shiny and clear, rolled in mass by the stream, was there a goodly heap;
and he bethought how that of old some wondrous one did, by casting
stones over his shoulders, produce men and women, the which in knavery
excelled greatly. “Nay,” quoth he thereat; “why should not in this place
a like marvel happen?” and with no more ado, he catcheth me up a sackful
of these so shining stones, and entereth with great joy and content into
the city.
Then in that street which is hard by over against the town-house, he
beginneth to sow his crop of marvellous nature; but the people came
running unto him and inquired of him, and fain would know what it might
be that he was doing. “Why,” quoth noble Master Owlglass, “in this town
here be ye so woundily honest, that for fear ye should be altogether
without praise for your virtue, I sow ye a crop of knaves.” With that,
my masters, ye should have heard the outcry and hallabaloo which the
burghers did make. “Nay, nay!” they cried, “this city be, indeed, so
crammed with an abundance of knaves that an if ye sow not honest folk,
we shall surely perish.” But Owlglass said: “That may not be, for in
this town have grown virtues so long that ye must change the crop, or
let the ground be for awhile fallow.” Then they laid hands upon him and
took him, and bade him answer his deeds before the town council. And the
town council admonished him, and would have none of his crop, and bade
him therewith carry his seed-sack out of their bounds. So Owlglass gat
him forth, and entered into another city; but the fame of what he bare
had been noised abroad, and so entirely did they detest knavery, and
loathe cheats, that neither to eat nor to drink nor to tarry for rest
would they permit Owlglass. Aweary of such ware, at last he entered into
a ship, and would have departed by water, but the seed brake the bottom
through, and he was nigh drowned; so into the River Weser returned the
stones he had taken; and unto this day, whenever that any man is seized
of great virtue, they give unto him water of the Weser to drink, the
which strangely promoteth chousing, coney-catching, and gulling.
Thus endeth a great feat of our modern Deucalion.
The Eighty and Fifth Adventure.
_How that in the good city of Hamburg Owlglass hired him unto a barber
and went through the casement unto his service._
On a time came Owlglass unto Hamburg and there stood upon the
Hop-market, and gazed hither and thither as he was wont to do. And unto
him came up a barber, and spake unto him and said: “Lo! what seekest
thou, and whence comest thou?” Then Owlglass said: “Of a truth, I come
now straightway from the last place in the which I abode.” Upon this
saith the barber: “What art thou for a workman?” And Owlglass said: “I
am a barber, an it please ye.” Thereat the master hired him, and spake
unto him saying: “Mark me, dost thou see yon house over against us with
the casement down unto the ground.” “Yea,” quoth the man. “Then do thou
straightway enter in there, and soon will I follow,” said the master.
“Most truly,” said our worthy Owlglass. Then he gat him unto the house,
and brake the casement all in pieces, and entered in thereby, and
saluted the barber’s wife, who sate spinning within, and spake courteous
words and said: “God bless this handiwork.” But the barber’s wife was
afeared, and cried: “What labour and handiwork be this that thou dost,
breaking me the casement after this wise? The foul fiend seize thee,
loon!” “Nay,” quoth Owlglass, “impute not the marring of the casement
unto me, except as diligent service, for your good man bade me enter in
thereby, and I ever perform that which is enjoined me.” Then the woman
said: “Truly, a faithful servant is he who marreth his master’s
substance!” But Owlglass said: “Should not a servant perform his
master’s bidding?” With that, during such conference betwixt the twain,
cometh the master, and looked upon the broken casement. And he said unto
Owlglass: “What is this? Couldst thou not enter by my house door, and
leave me the casement whole? What be the cause that thou shouldst thus
enter by a window.” “Nay,” answered Owlglass, “beloved master, ye bade
me look upon the tall window and there enter in; and I did but according
to thy words.” Thereat was the master content, for he considered within
himself: “I can but from the money of his hiring take what will pay the
charges of making my casement whole.”
Thereafter they went forward in comfort for some days. Then did the
barber enjoin Owlglass that he should take a razor, and he instructed
him, and said: “Now do thus evenly with the edge grind me the back, so
that no notches be.” And Owlglass answered: “Yea, most willingly.” And
after a season had gone past, the barber cometh privily behind Owlglass
to see after what manner he was performing his labour, and Owlglass had
ground the back as sharp as the edge, and marred the work altogether. So
the master spake unto him saying: “What vile thing is this that thou
dost?” And the other to him answered: “I do not any vile thing? But only
according to thy words; didst not bid me to grind the back evenly with
the edge? And so do I.” Then did the master wax very wroth, and said
unto him: “Lo! get thee forth hence, and return in manner that thou
didst come.” Owlglass answered him: “Yea,” and taking his bundle,
springeth me forth through the casement again, and breaketh it, and so
departeth. And though the barber was lithe and active, as be the fashion
with barbers, yet could he never seize Owlglass, who, indeed, was a
match for a good fleet runner.
The Eighty and Sixth Adventure.
_How that Owlglass did cause the host of the inn at Eisleben to be beset
with great terror, by showing unto him a wolf, of the which he professed
no fear._
In Eisleben there dwelt an innkeeper who was mocker of others, and who
thought that of all great hosts he was the exemplar and flower. Unto him
came Owlglass in the winter time; and he abode in the inn with him while
that the snow was on the ground. And while that the night was dark,
there came three merchants from Saxony unto the inn, who would fain come
unto Nürnberg. The host, who was swift of speech, spake unto them, and,
with ready words, said: “Whence come ye folk so late, and why have ye
tarried so long by the way?” And the merchants answered him, and said:
“Behold, master host! be not wroth with us by reason of our lateness; a
wolf did lie in wait for us by the way and attacked us, and with him had
we to contend and beat him off; from that cause is it that we be so late
with thee.” And when that the host heard their words, he mocked them,
and said unto them: “Great shame is it that ye do let yourselves be
stayed by a wolf—for if that I met two wolves in the field, I would
alone contend with them and slay them; little account would I make of
such a pair! And there were of ye folk three people, and by a single
wolf were ye affrighted.” And thus continued the host to mock them the
whole even through until that they gat them to bed.