and making of it all a harmonious cacophony, a
rapturous anthem of joy and sorrow, a Babel of victory. At our
instigation the carvers, the gold-smiths, the enamellers, accomplished
marvels and all the sumptuary arts flourished at once; there were silks
at Lyons, tapestries at Arras, linen at Rheims, cloth at Rouen. The good
merchants rode on their palfreys to the fairs, bearing pieces of velvet
and brocade, embroideries, orfrays, jewels, vessels of silver, and
illuminated books. Strollers and players set up their trestles in the
churches and in the public squares, and represented, according to their
lights, simple chronicles of Heaven, Earth, and Hell. Women decked
themselves in splendid raiment and lisped of love.

"In the spring when the sky was blue, nobles and peasants were possessed
with the desire to make merry in the flower-strewn meadows. The fiddler
tuned his instrument, and ladies, knights and demoiselles, townsfolk,
villagers and maidens, holding hands, began the dance. But suddenly War,
Pestilence, and Famine entered the circle, and Death, tearing the violin
from the fiddler's hands, led the dance. Fire devoured village and
monastery. The men-at-arms hanged the peasants on the sign-posts at the
cross-roads when they were unable to pay ransom, and bound pregnant
women to tree-trunks, where at night the wolves came and devoured the
fruit within the womb. The poor people lost their senses. Sometimes,
peace being re-established, and good times come again, they were seized
with mad, unreasoning terror, abandoned their homes, and rushed hither
and thither in troops, half naked, tearing themselves with iron hooks,
and singing. I do not accuse Iahveh and his son of all this evil. Many
ill things occurred without him and even in spite of him. But where I
recognise the instigation of the All Good (as they called him) was in
the custom instituted by his pastors, and established throughout
Christendom, of burning, to the sound of bells and the singing of
psalms, both men and women who, taught by the demons, professed,
concerning this God, opinions of their own."

CHAPTER XXI

THE GARDENER'S STORY, CONCLUDED

"It seemed as if science and thought had perished for all eternity, and
that the earth would never again know peace, joy, and beauty.

"But one day, under the walls of Rome, some workmen, excavating the
earth on the borders of an ancient road, found a marble sarcophagus
which bore carved on its sid