These preachers, whose works are excessively rare, form a race unknown
to the general reader. I shall sketch the characters of these pious
buffoons, before I introduce them to his acquaintance. They, as it has
been said of Sterne, seemed to have wished, every now and then, to have
thrown their wigs into the faces of their auditors.
These preachers flourished in the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth
centuries; we are therefore to ascribe their extravagant mixture of
grave admonition with facetious illustration, comic tales which have
been occasionally adopted by the most licentious writers, and minute and
lively descriptions, to the great simplicity of the times, when the
grossest indecency was never concealed under a gentle periphrasis, but
everything was called by its name. All this was enforced by the most
daring personalities, and seasoned by those temporary allusions which
neither spared, nor feared even the throne. These ancient sermons
therefore are singularly precious, to those whose inquisitive pleasures
are gratified by tracing the _manners_ of former ages. When Henry
Stephens, in his apology for Herodotus, describes the irregularities of
the age, and the minutiæ of national manners, he effects this chiefly by
extracts from these sermons. Their wit is not always the brightest, nor
their satire the most poignant; but there is always that prevailing
_naïveté_ of the age running through their rude eloquence, which
interests the reflecting mind. In a word, these sermons were addressed
to the multitude; and therefore they show good sense and absurdity;
fancy and puerility; satire and insipidity; extravagance and truth.
Oliver Maillard, a famous cordelier, died in 1502. This preacher having
pointed some keen traits in his sermons at Louis XI., the irritated
monarch had our cordelier informed that he would throw him into the
river. He replied undaunted, and not forgetting his satire: "The king
may do as he chooses; but tell him that I shall sooner get to paradise
by water, than he will arrive by all his post-horses." He alluded to
travelling by post, which this monarch had lately introduced into
France. This bold answer, it is said, intimidated Louis: it is certain
that Maillard continued as courageous and satirical as ever in his
pulpit.
The following extracts are descriptive of the manners of the times.
In attacking rapine and robbery, under the first head he describes a
kind of usury, which was practised in the days of Ben Jonson, and I am
told in the present, as well as in the times of Maillard. "This," says
he, "is called a palliated usury. It is thus. When a person is in want
of money, he goes to a treasurer (a kind of banker or merchant), on whom
he has an order for 1000 crowns; the treasurer tells him that he will
pay him in a fortnight's time, when he is to receive the money. The
poor man cannot wait. Our good treasurer tells him, I will give you half
in money and half in goods. So he passes his goods that are worth 100
crowns for 200." He then touches on the bribes which these treasurers
and clerks in office took, excusing themselves by alleging the little
pay they otherwise received. "All these practices be sent to the
devils!" cries Maillard, in thus addressing himself to the _ladies_: "it
is for _you_ all this damnation ensues. Yes! yes! you must have rich
satins, and girdles of gold out of this accursed money. When any one has
anything to receive from the husband, he must make a present to the wife
of some fine gown, or girdle, or ring. If you ladies and gentlemen who
are battening on your pleasures, and wear scarlet clothes, I believe if
you were closely put in a good press, we should see the blood of the
poor gush out, with which your scarlet is dyed."
Maillard notices the following curious particulars of the mode of
_cheating in trade_ in his times.
He is violent against the apothecaries for their cheats. "They mix
ginger with cinnamon, which they sell for real spices: they put their
bags of ginger, pepper, saffron, cinnamon, and other drugs in damp
cellars, that they may weigh heavier; they mix oil with saffron, to give
it a colour, and to make it weightier." He does not forget those
tradesmen who put water in their wool, and moisten their cloth that it
may stretch; tavern-keepers, who sophisticate and mingle wines; the
butchers, who blow up their meat, and who mix hog's lard with the fat of
their meat. He terribly declaims against those who buy with a great
allowance of measure and weight, and then sell with a small measure and
weight; and curses those who, when they weigh, press the scales down
with their finger. But it is time to conclude with Master Oliver! His
catalogue is, however, by no means exhausted; and it may not be amiss to
observe, that the present age has retained every one of the sins.
The following extracts are from Menot's sermons, which are written, like
Maillard's, in a barbarous Latin, mixed with old French.
Michael Menot died in 1518. I think he has more wit than Maillard, and
occasionally displays a brilliant imagination; with the same singular
mixture of grave declamation and farcical absurdities. He is called in
the title-page the _golden-tongued_. It runs thus, _Predicatoris qui
lingua aurea, sua tempestate nuncupatus est, Sermones quadragesimales,
ab ipso olim Turonis declamati_. _Paris, 1525_, 8vo.
When he compares the church with a vine, he says, "There were once some
Britons and Englishmen who would have carried away all France into their
country, because they found our wine better than their beer; but as they
well knew that they could not always remain in France, nor carry away
France into their country, they would at least carry with them several
stocks of vines; they planted some in England; but these stocks soon
degenerated, because the soil was not adapted to them." Notwithstanding
what Menot said in 1500, and that we have tried so often, we have often
flattered ourselves that if we plant vineyards, we may have English
wine.
The following beautiful figure describes those who live neglectful of
their aged parents, who had cherished them into prosperity. "See the
trees flourish and recover their leaves; it is their root that has
produced all; but when the branches are loaded with flowers and with
fruits, they yield nothing to the root. This is an image of those
children who prefer their own amusements, and to game away their
fortunes, than to give to their old parents that which they want."
He acquaints us with the following circumstances of the immorality of
that age: "Who has not got a mistress besides his wife? The poor wife
eats the fruits of bitterness, and even makes the bed for the mistress."
Oaths were not unfashionable in his day. "Since the world has been
world, this crime was never greater. There were once pillories for these
swearers; but now this crime is so common, that the child of five years
can swear; and even the old dotard of eighty, who has only two teeth
remaining, can fling out an oath."
On the power of the fair sex of his day, he observes--"A father says, my
son studies; he must have a bishopric, or an abbey of 500 livres. Then
he will have dogs, horses, and mistresses, like others. Another says, I
will have my son placed at court, and have many honourable dignities. To
succeed well, both employ the mediation of women; unhappily the church
and the law are entirely at their disposal. We have artful Dalilahs who
shear us close. For twelve crowns and an ell of velvet given to a woman,
you gain the worst lawsuit, and the best living."
In his last sermon, Menot recapitulates the various topics he had
touched on during Lent. This extract presents a curious picture, and a
just notion of the versatile talents of these preachers.
"I have told _ecclesiastics_ how they should conduct themselves; not
that they are ignorant of their duties; but I must ever repeat to girls,
not to suffer themselves to be duped by them. I have told these
ecclesiastics that they should imitate the lark; if she has a grain she
does not remain idle, but feels her pleasure in singing, and in singing
always is ascending towards heaven. So they should not amass; but
elevate the hearts of all to God; and not do as the frogs who are crying
out day and night, and think they have a fine throat, but always remain
fixed in the mud.
"I have told the _men of the law_ that they should have the qualities of
the eagle. The first is, that this bird when it flies fixes its eye on
the sun; so all judges, counsellors, and attorneys, in judging, writing,
and signing, should always have God before their eyes. And secondly,
this bird is never greedy; it willingly shares its prey with others; so
all lawyers, who are rich in crowns after having had their bills paid,
should distribute some to the poor, particularly when they are conscious
that their money arises from their prey.
"I have spoken of the _marriage state_, but all that I have said has
been disregarded. See those wretches who break the hymeneal chains, and
abandon their wives! they pass their holidays out of their parishes,
because if they remained at home they must have joined their wives at
church; they liked their prostitutes better; and it will be so every day
in the year! I would as well dine with a Jew or a heretic, as with them.
What an infected place is this! Mistress Lubricity has taken possession
of the whole city; look in every corner, and you'll be convinced.
"For you _married women_! If you have heard the nightingale's song, you
must know that she sings during three months, and that she is silent
when she has young ones. So there is a time in which you may sing and
take your pleasures in the marriage state, and another to watch your
children. Don't damn yourselves for them; and remember it would be
better to see them drowned than damned.
"As to _widows_, I observe, that the turtle withdraws and sighs in the
woods, whenever she has lost her companion; so must they retire into the
wood of the cross, and having lost their temporal husband, take no other
but Jesus Christ.
"And, to close all I have told _girls_ that they must fly from the
company of men, and not permit them to embrace, nor even touch them.
Look on the rose; it has a delightful odour; it embalms the place in
which it is placed; but if you grasp it underneath, it will prick you
till the blood issues. The beauty of the rose is the beauty of the girl.
The beauty and perfume of the first invite to smell and to handle it,
but when it is touched underneath it pricks sharply; the beauty of a
girl likewise invites the hand; but you, my young ladies, you must never
suffer this, for I tell you that every man who does this designs to make
you harlots."
These ample extracts may convey the same pleasure to the reader which I
have received by collecting them from their scarce originals, little
known even to the curious. Menot, it cannot be denied, displays a poetic
imagination, and a fertility of conception which distinguishes him among
his rivals. The same taste and popular manner came into our country, and
were suited to the simplicity of the age. In 1527, our Bishop Latimer
preached a sermon,[74] in which he expresses himself thus:--"Now, ye
have heard what is meant by this _first card_, and how ye ought to
_play_. I purpose again to _deal_ unto you another _card of the same
suit_; for they be so nigh affinity, that one cannot be well played
without the other."[75] It is curious to observe about a century
afterwards, as Fuller informs us, that when a country clergyman imitated
these familiar allusions, the taste of the congregation had so changed
that he was interrupted by peals of laughter!
Even in more modern times have Menot and Maillard found an imitator in
little Father André, as well as others. His character has been variously
drawn. He is by some represented as a kind of buffoon in the pulpit; but
others more judiciously observe, that he only indulged his natural
genius, and uttered humorous and lively things, as the good Father
observes himself, to keep the attention of his audience awake. He was
not always laughing. "He told many a bold truth," says the author of
_Guerre des Auteurs anciens et modernes_, "that sent bishops to their
dioceses, and made many a coquette blush. He possessed the art of biting
when he smiled; and more ably combated vice by his ingenious satire than
by those vague apostrophes which no one takes to himself. While others
were straining their minds to catch at sublime thoughts which no one
understood, he lowered his talents to the most humble situations, and to
the minutest things. From them he drew his examples and his comparisons;
and the one and the other never failed of success." Marville says, that
"his expressions were full of shrewd simplicity. He made very free use
of the most popular proverbs. His comparisons and figures were always
borrowed from the most familiar and lowest things." To ridicule
effectually the reigning vices, he would prefer quirks or puns to
sublime thoughts; and he was little solicitous of his choice of
expression, so the things came home. Gozzi, in Italy, had the same power
in drawing unexpected inferences from vulgar and familiar occurrences.
It was by this art Whitfield obtained so many followers. In Piozzi's
British Synonymes, vol. ii. p. 205, we have an instance of Gozzi's
manner. In the time of Charles II. it became fashionable to introduce
humour into sermons. Sterne seems to have revived it in his: South's
sparkle perpetually with wit and pun.
Far different, however, are the characters of the sublime preachers, of
whom the French have preserved the following descriptions.
We have not any more Bourdaloue, La Rue, and Massillon; but the idea
which still exists of their manner of addressing their auditors may
serve instead of lessons. Each had his own peculiar mode, always adapted
to place, time, circumstance; to their auditors, their style, and their
subject.
Bourdaloue, with a collected air, had little action; with eyes generally
half closed he penetrated the hearts of the people by the sound of a
voice uniform and solemn. The tone with which a sacred orator pronounced
the words, _Tu est ille vir!_ "Thou art the man!" in suddenly addressing
them to one of the kings of France, struck more forcibly than their
application. Madame de Sévigné describes our preacher, by saying,
"Father Bourdaloue thunders at Notre Dame."
La Rue appeared with the air of a prophet. His manner was irresistible,
full of fire, intelligence, and force. He had strokes perfectly
original. Several old men, his contemporaries, still shuddered at the
recollection of the expression which he employed in an apostrophe to the
God of vengeance, _Evaginare gladium tuum!_
The person of Massillon affected his admirers. He was seen in the pulpit
with that air of simplicity, that modest demeanour, those eyes humbly
declining, those unstudied gestures, that passionate tone, that mild
countenance of a man penetrated with his subject, conveying to the mind
the most luminous ideas, and to the heart the most tender emotions.
Baron, the tragedian, coming out from one of his sermons, truth forced
from his lips a confession humiliating to his profession; "My friend,"
said he to one of his companions, "this is an _orator!_ and we are _only
actors!_"