The Chronicle of Clemendy/The Lord Maltworm's First Tale
THE LORD MALTWORM'S FIRST TALE
WHEN WE had sufficiently nourished our internal juices by dining I let my three worshipful jokers know that there was a spacious shadow ready for them on the lawn, where I had caused chairs to be set as easy as I had, for a man who has made a good dinner needs gentle treatment and a little luxury of comfort, so that he may meditate on nothing, and stroke himself down without let or hindrance. Some people cannot sit still and do nothing even after dinner, they must still be fretting and fuming, still reforming, still settling matters right. O miserable race of men; tell me how comes it that there is any wrong or crookedness upon the earth, for since your great Originall began to mend our fortunes, you, his apes, have never ceased to botch, to rip, to tear, to drive in nails and pull them out, to loosen the tight and to tighten the loose, and all the while to go solemnly to work, to use long words and to drink cold water. But we four Silurians were not of this Reforming and Beautifying company, and were able to sit very still in the shade, watching the sunlight play upon the trees, and the filmy clouds floating across the sky, and listening to the ripple of the brook as it sped over the stones toward Caerleon. Phil Ambrose the Spigot Clerk who had in the morning told the rare tale of Sir Jenkin, was especially resigned and calm, and leant back in his elbow chair, smoking a mighty long clay pipe, seeming to my eyes a very mellow personage and a dignified also, if you take away his shape, for he was a little barrel of a man. And after he had sat thus somewhile he began to be inquisitive and to ask questions about old sayings and proverbs and those quaint words used by our forefathers, which we now hold for condemned or at least suspect. But I believe that if we persevere in this sort much longer a man will be ashamed to speak of his belly or his guts, and be shown the door if he name these members in a polite assembly. However that may be, nothing passed between us worthy of note, for it is not good for a man to put out his mind in the afternoon, the which has been provided for us to dream in, and talk lightly, and idly to pursue small love-affairs; for I deny not that this petty exertion is to be allowed after four o'clock; indeed if properly discharged it may give a man a gust for his supper. But I forbid all kissing, since this amusement makes one warm, and is hard to leave off, besides.
But after we had supped and the bottle began to go round, the Rubrican, Tom Bamfylde, began one of those dissertations he was addicted to relating to the old privileges and customs of the Court of Cervisage; I think he was trying to clear up our understandings on one of the knotty points in our Rituale, namely the circumstance of a Death's Head being placed before the High Tosspot and delineated on one of the quarters of his seal; the which hath perplexed many of us, for in our teaching we utterly abhor all doleful, hypochondriac imaginations. And the Rubrican, being somewhat drunk, was fumbling desperately at this entanglement, quoting the old Annals of the Court, and moralising our Legends and Songs till he seemed to himself to have found out a high method and signification in this terrible symbol; "'tis the very pith and most dogmatical article of our knowledge," said he. "For you must consider that the whole world and all our life is a most rare and quintessential jest or merry piece, so subtile indeed is the peal of joyous laughter that sounds through it that the gross ears perceive it not and imagine that the noises they hear are a continual sobbing, a bitter ceaseless wailing, a crying and a lamentable moan for mercy, and sighs and weeping without end. But these noises we Silurists know well to be mere fictions, like the sounds heard by deaf people of drums and bells; and are all of us agreed that to see the best play one need only live. So the world being shown to be an exceeding merry world, and man being of it the microcosm (as it is well termed by the Brethren of the R. C.), it would follow that the image of a man might stand for the effigies and symbol of the Silurian Knowledge and joyous philosophy. But the great sages who founded the Session Cwrw Dda, and in their Round Table have mystically taught us whence all things come and whither all things go, have refined upon this conceit, and truly considering that a man standing for the world, his head may best represent man (for the head is in fact that admirable aumbry holding inventions, wit, methods, conceits, fantasies; a storehouse of delights) have chosen a Deathshead as an image of the Cwrw Dda, and I believe it to be both suitable (as I have shown) and subtle. For many by this symbol are puzzled, and scratch their heads, and wander into wrong tracks; and all this for our enjoyment; and in short I would have you believe that by it is meant 'The Merriment of the Whole World'". This farrago was received in silence, Dick Leonard only saying mildly, "Master Perrot's wine is very strong; but I believe there is some truth in what the Rubrican says, for though drunk he is a learned man and accustomed to peer into the essence of things. And now I think of it a conceit has come into my brain concerning the morrow, the which I believe will please you all; let us, I say, go to Uske." "Why should we especially go tomorrow?" "Because 'tis tomorrow that the burgesses proceed to the solemn election of a worshipful Portreeve, whom they choose with many admirable rites and significant ceremonies; and all the town is full of gentry, rogues, Egyptians, wits, saltimbancos, zanies, clerks and birds of our feather." "We will certainly go then," said I, "if Phil Ambrose and Tom Bamfylde be well-disposed unto this journey." "We are so," quoth the the Spigot Clerk, "for we are not accustomed to miss these solemnities, insomuch as they furnish us with gay adventures, choice comedies, and a fine stock of tales and pleasant sayings for the winter nights. For a man should be ever heedful of that hutch or cupboard of his, the brain; to keep the shelves well-stocked with good fare, duly spiced and seasoned, that he is ever able to draw out a dainty dish and to set it before his friend." "Let us go, let us go," assented Tom Bamfylde, "I warrant we shall return the wiser, and carry back with us more than we brought." "Of that I am not altogether certain," said Nick Leonard, "sometimes it happens so, and sometimes contrariwise, but it is of no great consequence. And now, my merry jokers, what says the wise Hebdomadarius of the Eighth Week" (he was speaking of the "Joyous Inventions" of the monk Calliard) "'Be not dull at sunset when the rain falls and the night comes on, but search for sweet memories through the byways of your brains, be droll and witty, and the devil take him that keeps a sour countenance.' Wherefore let someone tell a tale and strive to match the relation we heard in the forenoon." "You have spoken," said Phil Ambrose, "and you shall devise for us, for it is my part to choose a successor." "So be it then" quoth Nick Leonard, "but first let me sit in the Bardic Chair, that my cervical substance may be fertilised, and bring forth ripe fruit. And do you, Master Rubrican, intone us the Herald's Proclamation, or some chant fit for our occasion, if your plain song be not altogether drowned in Rhenish wine." Then the Rubrican sang as follows: If any speak while these things are being set forth, may he quaff water for the remainder of his days; but when all is done, laugh and drink unto the nail.