Angels -- Fiction; French fiction -- Translations into English; French wit and humor -- Translations into English
"They said so, but their adventurous and covetous spirit excited them to
go forth and seek lands, women, slaves, gold, myrrh, and incense. These
expeditions, need it be said, proved disastrous; but our thick-headed
compatriots brought back with them the knowledge of certain crafts and
oriental arts and a taste for luxury. Henceforth we had less difficulty
in making them work and in putting them in the way of inventions. We
built wonderfully beautiful churches, with daringly pierced arches,
lancet-shaped windows, high towers, thousands of pointed spires, which,
rising in the sky towards Iahveh, bore at one and the same time the
prayers of the humble and the threats of the proud, for it was all as
much our doing as the work of men's hands; and it was a strange sight to
see men and demons working together at a cathedral, each one sawing,
polishing, collecting stones, graving, on capital and on cornice,
nettles, thorns, thistles, wild parsley, and wild strawberry,--carving
faces of virgins and saints and weird figures of serpents, fishes with
asses' heads, apes scratching their buttocks; each one, in fact, putting
his own particular talent,--mocking, sublime, grotesque, modest, or
audacious,--into the work 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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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