The Ship of Fools, Volume 1-2, Sebastian Brant [good books to read TXT] 📗

of the Church, who rebuked

the faults of his brethren, but visited with the pains of Hell those of

“fals herytikes,” and wept over the “ruyne, inclynacion, and decay of the

holy fayth Catholyke, and dymynucion of the Empyre.”

 

So while he was yet a reformer in the true sense of the word, he was too

much of the scholar to be anything but a true conservative. To his

scholarly habit of working, as well as to the manner of the time which

hardly trusted in the value of its own ideas but loved to lean them upon

classical authority, is no doubt owing the classical mould in which his

satire is cast. The description of every folly is strengthened by notice of

its classical or biblical prototypes, and in the margin of the Latin

edition of Locher, Brandt himself supplied the citations of the books and

passages which formed the basis of his text, which greatly added to the

popularity of the work. Brandt, indeed, with the modesty of genius,

professes that it is really no more than a collection and translation of

quotations from biblical and classical authors, “Gesamlet durch Sebastianu

Brant.” But even admitting the work to be a Mosaic, to adopt the reply of

its latest German editor to the assertion that it is but a compilation

testifying to the most painstaking industry and the consumption of midnight

oil, “even so one learns that a Mosaic is a work of art when executed with

artistic skill.” That he caused the classical and biblical passages

flitting before his eyes to be cited in the margin proves chiefly only the

excellence of his memory. They are also before our eyes and yet we are not

always able to answer the question: where, e.g., does this occur? …

Where, e.g., occur the following appropriate words of Goethe: “Who can

think anything foolish, who can think anything wise, that antiquity has not

already thought of.”

 

Of the Greek authors, Plutarch only is used, and he evidently by means of a

Latin translation. But from the Latin large draughts of inspiration are

taken, direct from the fountainhead. Ovid, Juvenal, Persius, Catullus, and

Seneca, are largely drawn from, while, strangely enough, Cicero, Boethius,

and Virgil are quoted but seldom, the latter, indeed, only twice, though

his commentators, especially Servetus, are frequently employed. The Bible,

of course, is a never-failing source of illustration, and, as was to be

expected, the Old Testament much more frequently than the New, most use

being made of the Proverbs of Solomon, while Ecclesiastes, Ecclesiasticus,

and the Sapientia follow at no great distance.

 

The quotations are made apparently direct from the Vulgate, in only a few

cases there being a qualification of the idea by the interpretation of the

Corpus Juris Canonici. But through this medium only, as was to be expected

of the professor of canon law, is the light of the fathers of the Church

allowed to shine upon us, and according to Zarncke (Introduction to his

edition of the Narrenschiff, 1854), use of it has certainly been made far

oftener than the commentary shows, the sources of information of which are

of the most unsatisfactory character. On such solid and tried foundations

did Brandt construct his great work, and the judgment of contemporaries and

posterity alike has declared the superstructure to be worthy of its

supports.

 

The following admirable notice from Ersch and Grüber (Encyclopädie) sums up

so skilfully the history, nature, and qualities of the book that we quote

at length:—“The Ship of Fools was received with almost unexampled applause

by high and low, learned and unlearned, in Germany, Switzerland, and

France, and was made the common property of the greatest part of literary

Europe, through Latin, French, English, and Dutch translations. For upwards

of a century it was in Germany a book of the people in the noblest and

widest sense of the word, alike appreciated by an Erasmus and a Reuchlin,

and by the mechanics of Strassburg, Basel, and Augsburg; and it was assumed

to be so familiar to all classes, that even during Brandt’s lifetime, the

German preacher Gailer von Kaiserberg went so far as to deliver public

lectures from the pulpit on his friend’s poem as if it had been a

scriptural text. As to the poetical and humorous character of Brandt’s

poem, its whole conception does not display any extraordinary power of

imagination, nor does it present in its details any very striking sallies

of wit and humour, even when compared with older German works of a similar

kind, such as that of Renner. The fundamental idea of the poem consists in

the shipping off of several shiploads of fools of all kinds for their

native country, which, however, is visible at a distance only; and one

would have expected the poet to have given poetical consistency to his work

by fully carrying out this idea of a ship’s crew, and sailing to the ‘Land

of Fools.’ It is, however, at intervals only that Brandt reminds us of the

allegory; the fools who are carefully divided into classes and introduced

to us in succession, instead of being ridiculed or derided, are reproved in

a liberal spirit, with noble earnestness, true moral feeling, and practical

common sense. It was the straightforward, the bold and liberal spirit of

the poet which so powerfully addressed his contemporaries from the Ship of

the Fools; and to us it is valuable as a product of the piety and morality

of the century which paved the way for the Reformation. Brandt’s fools are

represented as contemptible and loathsome rather than foolish, and what

he calls follies might be more correctly described as sins and vices.

 

“The ‘Ship of Fools’ is written in the dialect of Swabia, and consists of

vigorous, resonant, and rhyming iambic quadrameters. It is divided into 113

sections, each of which, with the exception of a short introduction and two

concluding pieces, treats independently of a certain class of fools or

vicious persons; and we are only occasionally reminded of the fundamental

idea by an allusion to the ship. No folly of the century is left

uncensured. The poet attacks with noble zeal the failings and extravagances

of his age, and applies his lash unsparingly even to the dreaded Hydra of

popery and monasticism, to combat which the Hercules of Wittenberg had not

yet kindled his firebrands. But the poet’s object was not merely to reprove

and to animadvert; he instructs also, and shows the fools the way to the

land of wisdom; and so far is he from assuming the arrogant air of the

commonplace moralist, that he reckons himself among the number of fools.

The style of the poem is lively, bold, and simple, and often remarkably

terse, especially in his moral sayings, and renders it apparent that the

author was a classical scholar, without however losing anything of his

German character.”

 

Brandt’s humour, which either his earnestness or his manner banished from

the text, took refuge in the illustrations and there disported itself with

a wild zest and vigour. Indeed to their popularity several critics have

ascribed the success of the book, but for this there is no sufficient

authority or probability. Clever as they are, it is more probable that they

ran, in popularity, but an equal race with the text. The precise amount of

Brandt’s workmanship in them has not been ascertained, but it is agreed

that “most of them, if not actually drawn, were at least suggested by him.”

Zarncke remarks regarding their artistic worth, “not all of the cuts are of

equal value. One can easily distinguish five different workers, and more

practised eyes would probably be able to increase the number. In some one

can see how the outlines, heads, hands, and other principal parts are cut

with the fine stroke of the master, and the details and shading left to the

scholars. The woodcuts of the most superior master, which can be recognized

at once, and are about a third of the whole, belong to the finest, if they

are not, indeed, the finest, which were executed in the fifteenth century,

a worthy school of Holbein. According to the opinion of Herr Rudolph

Weigel, they might possibly be the work of Martin Schön of Colmar…. The

composition in the better ones is genuinely Hogarth-like, and the longer

one looks at these little pictures, the more is one astonished at the

fulness of the humour, the fineness of the characterisation and the almost

dramatic talent of the grouping.” Green, in his recent work on emblems,

characterizes them as marking an epoch in that kind of literature. And

Dibdin, the Macaulay of bibliography, loses his head in admiration of the

“entertaining volume,” extolling the figures without stint for “merit in

conception and execution,” “bold and free pencilling,” “spirit and point,”

“delicacy, truth, and force,” “spirit of drollery,” &c., &c.; summarising

thus, “few books are more pleasing to the eye, and more gratifying to the

fancy than the early editions of the ‘Stultifera Navis.’ It presents a

combination of entertainment to which the curious can never be

indifferent.”

 

Whether it were the racy cleverness of the pictures or the unprecedented

boldness of the text, the book stirred Europe of the fifteenth century in a

way and with a rapidity it had never been stirred before. In the German

actual acquaintance with it could then be but limited, though it ran

through seventeen editions within a century; the Latin version brought it

to the knowledge of the educated class throughout Europe; but, expressing,

as it did mainly, the feelings of the common people, to have it in the

learned language was not enough. Translations into various vernaculars were

immediately called for, and the Latin edition having lightened the

translator’s labours, they were speedily supplied. England, however, was

all but last in the field but when she did appear, it was in force, with a

version in each hand, the one in prose and the other in verse.

 

Fifteen years elapsed from the appearance of the first German edition,

before the English metrical version “translated out of Laten, French, and

Doche … in the colege of Saynt Mary Otery, by me, Alexander Barclay,” was

issued from the press of Pynson in 1509. A translation, however, it is not.

Properly speaking, it is an adaptation, an English ship, formed and

fashioned after the Ship of Fools of the World. “But concernynge the

translacion of this boke; I exhort ye reders to take no displesour for y^t,

it is nat translated word by worde acordinge to ye verses of my actour. For

I haue but only drawen into our moder tunge, in rude langage the sentences

of the verses as nere as the parcyte of my wyt wyl suffer me, some tyme

addynge, somtyme detractinge and takinge away suche thinges as semeth me

necessary and superflue. Wherfore I desyre of you reders pardon of my

presumptuous audacite, trustynge that ye shall holde me excused if ye

consyder ye scarsnes of my wyt and my vnexpert youthe. I haue in many

places ouerpassed dyuers poetical digressions and obscurenes of fables and

haue concluded my worke in rude langage as shal apere in my translacion.”

 

“Wylling to redres the errours and vyces of this oure royalme of England

… I haue taken upon me … the translacion of this present boke … onely

for the holsome instruccion commodyte and doctryne of wysdome, and to

clense the vanyte and madness of folysshe people of whom ouer great nombre

is in the Royalme of Englonde.”

 

Actuated by these patriotic motives, Barclay has, while preserving all the

valuable characteristics of his original, painted for posterity perhaps the

most graphic and comprehensive picture now preserved of the folly,

injustice, and iniquity which demoralized England, city and country alike,

at the beginning of the sixteenth century, and rendered it ripe for any

change