This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading is by Michael Sirwa. Michael.Sirwa. S-I-R-O-I-S.com Penguin Island by Anatole France Book 1. The Beginnings Book 1. Chapter 1. Life of St. Mail Mail, a scion of a royal family of Cambria was sent in his ninth year to the Abbey of Ivern, so that he might their study both sacred and profane learning. At the age of fourteen he renounced his patrimony and took a vow to serve the Lord. His time was divided according to the rule between the singing of hymns, the study of grammar, and the meditation of eternal truths. A celestial perfume soon disclosed the virtues of the monk throughout the cloister, and when the blessed gal, the abbot of Ivern, departed from this world into the next, young Mail succeeded him in the government of the monastery. He established therein a school, an infirmary, a guest house, a forge, workshops of all kinds, and sheds for building ships, and he compelled the monks to till the lands in the neighborhood. With his own hands he cultivated the garden of the Abbey. He worked in metals, he instructed the novices, and his life was gently gliding along like a stream that reflects the heaven and fertilizes the fields. At the close of the day this servant of God was accustomed to seat himself on the cliff, in the place that is today still called St. Mail's chair. At his feet the rocks, bristling with green seaweed, and tawny rack, seemed like black dragons as they faced the foam of the waves with their monstrous breasts. He watched the sun descending into the ocean, like a red host whose glorious blood gave a purple tone to the clouds and to the summits of the waves. And the holy man saw in this the image of the mystery of the cross, by which the divine blood has clothed the earth with a royal purple. In the offing a line of dark blue marked the shores of the island of Gad, where St. Bridget, who had been given the veil by St. Malo, ruled over a convent of women. Now Bridget, knowing the merits of the venerable mail, begged from him some work of his hands as a rich present. Mail cast a hand-bell of bronze for her, and when it was finished he blessed it and threw it into the sea. And the bell went ringing towards the coast of Gad, where St. Bridget, warned by the sound of the bell upon the waves, received it piously and carried it in solemn procession with singing of Psalms into the chapel of the convent. Thus the holy mail advanced from virtue to virtue. He had already passed through two-thirds of the way of life, and he hoped peacefully to reach his terrestrial end in the midst of his spiritual brethren, when he knew by a certain sign that the divine wisdom had decided otherwise, and that the Lord was calling him to less peaceful, but not less meritorious, labors. End of chapter 1 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading is by Michael Serois, Michael.Serois, S-I-R-O-I-S, dot com. Penguin Island, by Anatole France Book 1, The Beginnings Book 1, Chapter 2 The Apostolical Vocation of St. Mail One day, as he walked in meditation to the furthest point of a tranquil beach, for which rocks jutting out into the sea formed a rugged dam, he saw a trough of stone which floated like a boat upon the waters. It was in a vessel similar to this that St. Guirek, the great St. Columba, and so many holy men from Scotland and from Ireland, had gone forth to evangelise our Moraca. More recently still, St. Avoy, having come from England, ascended the River Oray, and a mortar made of rose-coloured granite into which children were afterwards placed in order to make them strong. St. Voga, passed from Hibernia to Cornwall, on a rock whose fragments, preserved at Penmarch, will cure a fever such pilgrims as place these splinters on their heads. St. Samson entered the bay of St. Michael's Mount in a granite vessel which will one day be called St. Samson's Basin. It is because of these facts that when he saw the stone trough, the Holy Mail understood that the Lord intended him for the apostolate of the Pagans, who still peopled the coast and the Breton Islands. He handed his Ashen staff to the Holy Budok, thus investing him with the government of the monastery, then furnished with bread, a barrel of fresh water, and the Book of the Holy Gospels, he entered the stone trough which carried him gently to the island of Hodek. This island is perpetually buffeted by the winds. In it some poor men fished among the clefts of the rocks and laboriously cultivated vegetables in gardens full of sand and pebbles that were sheltered from the wind by walls of barren stone and hedges of tamarisk. A beautiful fig tree raised itself in a hollow of the island and thrust forth its branches far and wide. The inhabitants of the island used to worship it, and the Holy Mail said to them, You worship this tree because it is beautiful. Therefore you are capable of feeling beauty. Now I come to reveal to you the hidden beauty. And he taught them the gospel. And after having instructed them, he baptized them with salt and water. The islands of Morbehan were more numerous in those times than they are today for since then many have been swallowed up by the sea. St. Mail evangelized sixty of them. Then in his granite trough he ascended the river Orei and after sailing for three hours he landed before a Roman house. A thin column of smoke went up from the roof. The holy man crossed the threshold on which there was a mosaic representing a dog with its hind legs outstretched and its lips drawn back. He was welcomed by an old couple, Marcos Combabas and Valeria Morins, who lived there on the products of their lands. There was a portico round the interior court, columns of which were painted red, half their height upwards from the base. A fountain made of shells stood against the wall and under the portico there rose an altar with a niche in which the master of the house had placed some little idols made of baked earth and whitened with whitewash. Some represented winged children, others Apollo or Mercury and several were in the form of a naked woman twisting her hair. But the holy male, observing those figures, hung them the image of a young mother holding a child upon her knees. Immediately pointing to that image he said, That is the virgin, the mother of God. The poet Virgil foretold her in Sibyline verses before she was born and in angelical tones he sang, Jam reddit et Virgo. Throughout heathendom prophetic figures of her have been made, like that which you, O Marcos, have placed upon this altar and without doubt it is she who has protected your modest household. Thus it is that those who faithfully observe the natural law prepare themselves for the knowledge of revealed truths. Marcos Cumbabas and Valeria Morins, having been instructed by this speech, were converted to the Christian faith. They received baptism together with their young freedwoman, Celia Avitella, who was dearer to them than the light of their eyes. All their tenants renounced paganism and were baptized on the same day.  They died in the Lord and were admitted into the canon of the saints. For thirty-seven years longer the blessed male evangelized the pagans of the inner lands. He built two hundred and eighteen chapels and seventy-four abbeys. Now on a certain day in the city of Van, when he was preaching the gospel, he learned that the monks of Ivern had in his absence declined from the rule of St. Gall. Immediately, with the zeal of a hen who gathers her brood, he repaired to his airing children. He was then towards the end of his ninety-seventh year. His figure was bent, but his arms were still strong, and his speech was poured forth abundantly like winter snow in the depths of the valleys. Abbot Budok restored the ashen staff to St. Male and informed him of the unhappy state into which the abbey had fallen. The monks were in disagreement as to the date at which the festival of Easter ought to be celebrated. Some held for the Roman calendar, others for the Greek calendar, and the horrors of a chronological schism distracted the monastery. There also prevailed another cause of disorder. The nuns of the island of Gad, sadly fallen from their former virtue, continually came in boats to the coast of Ivern. The monks received them in the guest-house, and from this there arose scandals which filled pious souls with desolation. Having finished his faithful report, Abbot Budok concluded in these terms, Since the coming of these nuns, the innocence and peace of the monks are at an end. I readily believe it," answered the blessed male. Or a woman is a cleverly constructed snare by which we are taken even before we suspect the trap. Alas, the delightful attraction of these creatures is exerted with even greater force from a distance than when they are close at hand. The less they satisfy a desire, the more they inspire it. This is the reason why a poet wrote this verse to one of them. When present I avoid thee, but when away I find thee. Thus we see, my son, that the blandishments of carnal love have more power over hermits and monks than over men who live in the world. All through my life the demon of lust has tempted me in various ways, but his strongest temptations did not come to me from meeting a woman, however beautiful and fragrant she was. They came to me from the image of an absent woman. Even now, though full of days and approaching my ninety-eighth year, I am often led by the enemy to sin against chastity, at least in thought. At night when I am cold in my bed and my frozen old bones rattle together with a dull sound, I hear voices reciting the second verse of the third book of the kings, wherefore his servants said unto him, Let there be sought from my lord the king a young virgin, and let her stand before the king, and let her cherish him, and let her lie in thy bosom, that my lord the king may get heat. And the devil shows me a girl in the bloom of youth who says to me, I am thy Abishag, I am thy Shunamite, make, O lord, room for me in thy couch. Believe me, added the old man, it is only by the special aid of heaven that a monk can keep his chastity in act and in intention. Applying himself immediately to restore innocence and peace to the monastery, he corrected the calendar according to the calculations of chronology and astronomy, and he compelled all the monks to accept his decision. He sent the women, who had declined from St. Bridge's rule back to their convent, but far from driving them away brutally, he caused them to be led to their boat with singing of psalms and litanies. Let us respect in them, he said, the daughters of Bridget and the betrothed of the lord. Let us beware lest we imitate the Pharisees who affect to despise sinners.  And the holy man exhorted his monks to obey faithfully the rule of their order. When it does not yield to the rudder, said he to them, the ship yields to the rock. Penguin Island, by Anatole France Book 1. The Beginnings Book 1. Chapter 3. The Temptation of St. Mail The blessed mail had scarcely restored order in the Abbey of Ivern, before he learned that the inhabitants of the island of Hodek, his first catechumens, and the dearest of all to his heart, had returned to paganism, and that they were hanging crowns of flowers and fillets of wool to the branches of the sacred fig tree. The boatman who brought this sad news expressed a fear that soon those misguided men might violently destroy the chapel that had been built on the shore of their island. The holy man resolved forthwith to visit his faithless children so that he might lead them back to the faith and prevent them from yielding to such sacrilege. As he went down to the bay where his stone trough was moored, he turned his eyes to the sheds, then filled with the noise of saws and of hammers, which thirty years before he had erected on the fringe of that bay for the purpose of building ships. At that moment the devil, who never tires, went out from the sheds, and under the appearance of a monk called Samson, he approached the holy man and tempted him thus. Father, the inhabitants of the island of Hodek commit sins unceasingly. Every moment that passes removes them farther from God. They assume going to use violence towards the chapel that you have raised with your own venerable hands on the shore of their island. Time is pressing. Do you not think that your stone trough would carry you more quickly towards them if it were rigged like a boat, and furnished with a rudder, a mast, and a sail? For then you would be driven by the wind. Your arms are still strong and able to steer a small craft. It would be a good thing, too, to put a sharp stem in front of your apostolic trough. You are much too clear-sighted not to have thought of it already. Truly, the time is pressing. Answered the holy man. But to do as you say, Samson, my son, would it not be to make myself like those men of little faith who do not trust the Lord? Would it not be to despise the gifts of him who has sent me this stone vessel without rigging or sail? This question, the devil, who is a great theologian answered by another. Father, is it praiseworthy to wait with our arms folded until help comes from on high and to ask everything from him who can do all things instead of acting by human prudence and helping ourselves? It certainly is not, answered the holy male, and to neglect to act by human prudence is tempting God. Well, urged the devil, is it not prudence in this case to rig the vessel? It would be prudence if we could not attain our end in any other way. Is your vessel, then, so very speedy? It is as speedy as God pleases. What do you know about it? It goes like Abbot Boondock's mule. It is a regular old tub. Are you forbidden to make it speedier? My son, clearness adorns your words, but they are unduly overconfident. Remember that this vessel is miraculous. It is, Father, a granite trough that floats on the water like a cork is a miraculous trough. There is not the slightest doubt about it. What conclusion do you draw from that? I am greatly perplexed. Is it right to perfect so miraculous a machine by human and natural means? Father, if you lost your right foot then God restored it to you. Would not that foot be miraculous? Without doubt, my son. Would you put a shoe on it? Assuredly. Well, then, if you believe that one may cover a miraculous foot with a natural shoe, you should also believe that we can put natural rigging on a miraculous boat. That is clear. Alas, why must the holiest persons have the influence of weakness and despondency? The most illustrious of the Apostles of Brittany could accomplish works worthy of eternal glory, but his spirit is tardy and his hand is slothful. Farewell, then, Father. Travel by short and slow stages, and when at last you approach the coast of Hodic you will see the smoking ruins of the chapel that was built and consecrated by your own hands. The pagans will have burned it, and with it the deacon you left there. He will be as thoroughly roasted as a black pudding. My trouble is extreme, said the servant of God, drying with his sleeve the sweat that gathered upon his brow. But tell me, Samson, my son, would not rigging this stone trough be a difficult piece of work? And if we undertook it, might we not lose time instead of gaining it? Ah, Father, exclaimed the devil, in one turning of the hourglass the thing would be done. We shall find the necessary rigging in this shed that you have formerly built here on the coast, and in these storehouses abundantly stocked through your care. I will myself regulate all the ship's fittings, before being a monk I was a sailor and a carpenter, and I have worked in many other trades as well. That is to work. Immediately he drew the holy man into an outhouse filled with all things needful for fitting out a boat. That for you, Father? And he placed on his shoulders the sail, the mast, the gaff and the boom. Then himself, bearing a stem and a rudder with its screw and tiller, and seizing a carpenter's bag full of tools, he ran to the shore, dragging the holy man after him by his habit. The latter was bent, sweating and breathless, under the burden of canvas and wood. This reading is by Michael Serois. Michael.serois.s-i-r-o-i-s.com. Siren songs provided by Mene Serois. Mene-m-i-n-a-y.serois.com. Penguin Island by Anatole France. Book 1. The Beginnings. Book 1. Chapter 4. St. Meals Navigation on the Ocean of Ice. The devil, having tucked his clothes up to his armpits, dragged the trough on the sand, and fitted the rigging in less than an hour. As soon as the holy mail had embarked, the vessel, with all its sails set, cleft through the waters with such speed that the coast was almost immediately out of sight. The old man steered to the south so as to double the land's end, but an irresistible current carried him to the southwest. He went along the southern coast of Ireland and turned sharply towards the north. In the evening the wind freshened. In vain did mail attempt to furl the sail. The vessel flew distractedly towards the fabulous seas. By the light of the moon the immodest sirens of the north came around him with their hemp-and-coloured hair, raising their white throats and their rose-tinted limbs out of the sea, and beating the water into foam with their emerald tails they sang in cadence. For a moment their harmonious laughter followed him beneath the stars, but the vessel fled on, a hundred times more swiftly than the red ship of a viking, and the Petrels, surprised in their flight, clung to the ship. The vessel was in a hurry, but the ship was in a hurry. The ship was in a hurry, but the ship was in a hurry. The ship was in a hurry, but the ship was in a hurry, but the ship was in a hurry. The ships, surprised in their flight, clung with their feet to the hair of the Holy Man.  After a night of three times twenty-four hours the darkness was suddenly rent, and the Holy Man discovered on the horizon a shore more dazzling than diamond. The coast rapidly grew larger, and soon, by the glacial light of a torpid and sunken sun, males saw, rising above the waves, the silent streets of a white city, which faster than thieves with its hundred gates extended as far as the eye could see, the ruins of its forum built of snow, its palaces of frost, its crystal arches, and its iridescent obelisks. The ocean was covered with floating icebergs, around which swam men of the sea of a wild yet gentle appearance, and Leviathan passed by hurling a column of water up to the clouds. Moreover, on a block of ice, which floated at the same rate as the stone trough, there was seated a white bear, holding her little one in her arms, and male heard her murmuring in a low voice this verse of Virgil, in sipe, parve, puer. And full of sadness and trouble the old man wept. The fresh water had frozen and burst the barrel that contained it, and male was sucking pieces of ice to quench his thirst, and his food was bread dipped in dirty water. His beard and his hair were broken like glass, his habit was covered with a layer of ice, and cut into him at every movement of his limbs. Huge waves rose up and opened their foaming jaws at the old man. Twenty times the boat was filled by masses of sea, and the ocean swallowed up the book of the Holy Gospels, which the apostle guarded with extreme care in a purple cover marked with a golden cross. Now on the thirtieth day the sea calmed, and low, with a frightful clamor of sky and waters, a mountain of dazzling whiteness advanced toward the stone vessel. Male steered to avoid it, but the tiller broke in his hands. To lessen the speed of his progress towards the rock he attempted to reef the sails, but when he tried to knot the reef points the wind pulled them away from him and the ropes seared his hands. He saw three demons with wings of black skin having hooks at their ends who hanging from the rigging were puffing with their breath against the sails. Understanding from this sight that the enemy had governed him in all these things he guarded himself by making the sign of the cross. Immediately a furious gust of wind filled with the noise of sobs and howls struck the stone trough carrying off the mast with all the sails and tore away the rudder in the stem. The trough was drifting on the sea which had now grown calm. The holy man knelt and gave thanks to the Lord who had delivered him from the snares of the demon. Then he recognized, sitting on a block of ice, the mother bear who had spoken during the storm.  Hailing the granite trough she saluted the holy man with these words, pacts to be male, and she held out the book to him. The holy man recognized his evangelistory and full of astonishment he sang in the tepid air a hymn to the Creator and His creation. Penguin Island by Anatole France Book 1. The Beginnings Book 1. Chapter 5. The Baptism of the Penguins After having drifted for an hour, the holy man approached a narrow strand shut in by steep mountains. He went along the coast for a whole day and a night passing around the reef which formed an insuperable barrier. He discovered in this way that it was a round island in the middle of which rose a mountain crowned with clouds. He joyfully breathed the fresh breath of the moist air. Rain fell and this rain was so pleasant that the holy man said to the Lord, Lord, this is the island of tears, the island of contrition. The strand was deserted. Worn out by fatigue and hunger he sat down on a rock in the hollow of which there lay some yellow eggs marked with black spots and about as large as those of a swan. But he did not touch them saying, birds are the living praises of God. I should not like a single one of these praises to be lacking through me. And he munched the lichens which he tore from the crannies of the rocks. The holy man had gone almost entirely round the island without meeting any inhabitants when he came to a vast amphitheater formed of black and red rocks whose summits became tinged with blue as they rose toward the clouds and they were filled with sonorous cascades. The reflection from the polar ice had hurt the old man's eyes but a feeble gleam of light still shone through his swollen eyelids. He distinguished animated forms which filled the rocks in stages like a crowd of men on the tears of an amphitheater. And at the same time his ears, deafened by the continual noises of the sea, heard a feeble sound of voices thinking that what he saw were men living under the natural law and that the Lord had sent him to teach he preached the gospel to them. Mounted on a lofty stone in the midst of the wild circus, inhabitants of this island said he, although you be of small stature, you look less like a band of fishermen and mariners than like the senate of a judicious republic by your gravity, your silence, your tranquil deportment. You form on this wild rock an assembly comparable to the conscript fathers at Rome, deliberating in the temple of victory or rather to the philosophers of Athens disputing on the benches of the Aeropagus. Doubtless you possess neither their science nor their genius, but perhaps in the sight of God you are their superiors. I believe that you are simple and good. As I went round your island I saw no image of murder, no sign of carnage, no enemies' heads or scalps hung from a lofty pole or nailed to the doors of your villages. You are to me to have no arts and not to work in metals, but your hearts are pure and your hands are innocent and the truth will easily enter into your souls. Now what he had taken for men of small stature but of grave bearing were penguins whom the spring had gathered together and who were ranged in couples on the natural steps of the rock erect in the majesty of their large white bellies. From moment to moment they moved their winglets like arms they did not fear men for they did not know them and had never received any harm from them and there was in the monk a certain gentleness that reassured the most timid animals and that pleased these penguins extremely.  Touched by their attention the holy man taught them the gospel. Inhabitants of this island the earthly day that has just risen over your rocks is the image of the heavenly day that rises in your souls for I bring you the inner light I bring you the light and heat of the soul just as the sun melts the ice of your mountains so Jesus Christ will melt the ice of your hearts. Thus the old man spoke as everywhere throughout nature voice calls to voice as all which breathes in the light of day with alternate strains these penguins answered the old man by the sounds of their throats and their voices were soft for it was the season of their loves. The holy man persuaded that they belong to some idolatrous people and that in their own language they gave adherence to the Christian faith invited them to receive baptism. I think, said he to them, that you bathe often for all the hollows of the rocks are full of pure water pure assembly I saw several of you plunging into these natural baths now purity of body is the image of spiritual purity and he taught them the origin the nature and the effects of baptism baptism, said he to them is adoption, new birth regeneration, illumination and he explained each of these points to them in succession then having previously blessed the water that fell from the cascades and recited the exorcisms he baptized those whom he had just taught pouring on each of their heads a drop of pure water and pronouncing the sacred words and thus for three days and three nights he baptized the birds. End of Chapter 5 This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org This reading is by Michael Sirwa Michael.Sirwa S-I-R-O-I-S .com Penguin Island, by Anatole France Book 1 The Beginnings Book 1, Chapter 6 An Assembly in Paradise When the baptism of the penguins was known in paradise it caused neither joy nor sorrow but an extreme surprise the Lord himself was embarrassed he gathered an assembly of clerics and doctors and asked them whether they regarded the baptism as valid It is void, said St. Patrick Why is it void? asked St. Gall who had evangelized the people of Cornwall and had trained the holy male for his apostolical labours The sacrament of baptism, answered St. Patrick is void when it is given to birds just as the sacrament of marriage is void when it is given to a eunuch But St. Gall replied What relation do you claim to establish between the baptism of a bird and the marriage of a eunuch? There is none at all Marriage is, if I may say so a conditional, a contingent sacrament The priest blesses an event beforehand It is evident that if the act is not consummated the benediction remains without effect That is obvious I have known on earth in the town of Antrim a rich man named Saddock who living in concubinage with a woman caused her to be the mother of nine children In his old age yielding to my reproofs he consented to marry her and I blessed their union Unfortunately, Saddock's great age prevented him from consummating the marriage A short time afterwards he lost all his property and Germaine, that was the name of the woman not feeling herself able to endure poverty asked for the annulment of a marriage which was no reality The pope granted her request for it was just So much for marriage But baptism is conferred without restrictions or reserves of any kind There is no doubt about it What the penguins have received is a sacrament Called to give his opinion Pope Saint Damascus expressed himself in these terms In order to know if a baptism is valid and will produce its result that is to say sanctification it is necessary to consider who gives it and not who receives it In truth, the sanctifying virtue of this sacrament results from the exterior act by which it is conferred without the baptized person cooperating in his own sanctification by any personal act If it were otherwise it would not be administered to the newly born and there is no need in order to baptize to fulfill any special condition It is not necessary to be in a state of grace It is sufficient to have the intention of doing what the church does to pronounce the consecrated words and to observe the prescribed forms Now we cannot doubt that the venerable male has observed these conditions Therefore, the penguins are baptized Do you think so? asked Saint Guineau And what then do you believe that baptism really is? Baptism is the process of regeneration by which man is born of water and of the spirit For having entered the water covered with crimes he goes out of it in Neophyte a new creature abounding in the fruits of righteousness Baptism is the seed of immortality Baptism is the pledge of the resurrection Baptism is the burying with Christ and his death and participation in his departure from the sepulchre That is not a gift to bestow upon birds Reverend Fathers, let us consider Baptism washes away original sin Now the penguins were not conceived in sin It removes the penalty of sin Now the penguins have not sinned It produces grace and the gift of virtues uniting Christians to Jesus Christ as the members to the body And it is obvious to the senses that penguins cannot acquire the virtues of confessors of virgins and of widows or receive grace and be united Saint Damascus did not allow him to finish That proves, said he warmly that the baptism was useless It does not prove that it was not effective But by this reasoning, said Saint Guineau one might baptize in the name of the father of the son and of the Holy Ghost by aspersion or immersion not only a bird or a quadruped but also an inanimate object a statue, a table, a chair, etc That animal would be Christian That idol, that table would be Christian It is absurd Saint Augustine began to speak There was a great silence I am going, said the ardent bishop of Hippo to show you by an example the power of formulas It deals, it is true with a diabolical operation But if it be established that formulas taught by the devil have effect upon unintelligent animals or even on inanimate objects how can we longer doubt that the effect of the sacramental formulas extends to the minds of beasts and even to inert matter This is the example There was during my lifetime in the town of Madora the birthplace of the philosopher Apuleus a witch who was able to attract men to her chamber by burning a few of their hairs along with certain herbs upon her tripod pronouncing at the same time certain words Now one day, when she wished by this means to gain the love of a young man she was deceived by her maid and instead of the young man's hairs she burned some hairs pulled from a leather bottle of a goat's skin that hung in a tavern During the night the leather bottle full of wine capered through the town up to the witch's door This fact is undoubted and in sacraments has an enchantments it is the form which operates The effect of a divine formula cannot be less in power and extent than the effect of an infernal formula Having spoken in this fashion the great St. Augustine sat down with his laws One of the blessed of an advanced age and having a melancholy appearance asked permission to speak No one knew him His name was Probus and he was not enrolled in the canon of the saints I beg the company's pardon said he I have no halo and I gained eternal blessedness without any eminent distinction but after what the great St. Augustine gave to the conditions necessary for the validity of a sacrament the bishop of Hippo is indeed right in what he said a sacrament depends on the form its virtue is in its form its vice is in its form Listen confessors and pontiffs to my woeful story I was a priest in Rome under the rule of the emperor Gordianus without desiring to recommend myself to you for any special merit I may say that I exercised my priesthood in the way that he and zeal for forty years I served the church of St. Modestus beyond the walls my habits were regular every Saturday I went to a tavern keeper called Barges who dwelt with his wine jars under the Porta Capena and from him I bought the wine that I consecrated daily throughout the week during that long space of time I never failed for a single morning to consecrate the holy sacrifice of the mass however I had no joy and it was with a heart that I sawro that on the steps of the altar I used to ask why aren't thou so heavy oh my soul and why aren't thou so disquieted within me the faithful whom I invited to the holy table gave me cause for affliction for having so to speak the host that I administered still upon their tongues they fell again into sin just as if the sacrament had been without power or efficacy at last I reached the end of my earthly trials and falling asleep in the Lord the boat of the elect I learned then from the mouth of the angel who brought me here that Barges the tavern keeper of the Porta Capena had sold for wine a decoction of roots and barks in which there was not a single drop of the juice of the grape I had been unable to transmute this file brew into blood for it was not wine and wine alone is changed into the blood of Jesus Christ therefore all my consecrations and unknown to us my faithful and myself had for 40 years been deprived of the sacrament and were in fact in a state of excommunication this revelation threw me into a stupor which overwhelms me even today in this abode of bliss I go all through paradise without ever meeting a single one of those Christians whom formerly I admitted to the holy table in the Basilica of the Blessed Modestus deprived of the bread of angels they easily gave way to the most abominable vices and they have all gone to hell it gives me some satisfaction to think that Barges the tavern keeper is damned there isn't these things a logic worthy of the author of all logic nevertheless my unhappy example proves that it is sometimes inconvenient that form should prevail over essence in the sacraments and I humbly ask could not eternal wisdom remedy this? No, answered the Lord the remedy would be worse than the disease it would be the ruin of the priesthood if essence prevailed over form in the laws of salvation Alas, Lord! sighed the humble probus be persuaded by my humble experience as long as you reduce your sacraments to formulas your justice will meet with terrible obstacles I know that better than you do replied the Lord I see in a single glance both the actual problems which are difficult and the future problems which will not be less difficult thus I can foretell that when the sun will have turned round the earth 240 times more sublime language exclaimed the angels and worthy of the creator of the world answered the Pontiffs it is, resumed the Lord a manner of speaking in accordance with my old cosmogony and one which I cannot give up without losing my immutability after the sun then will have turned another 240 times round the earth there will not be a single cleric left in Rome who knows Latin when they sing their litanies in the churches people will invoke orichelle, roguel, and toteshell and as you know these are devils and not angels many robbers desiring to make their communions but fearing that before obtaining pardon they would be forced to give up the things they had robbed to the church will make their confessions to traveling priests who ignorant of both Italian and Latin and only speaking the patois of their village will go through cities and towns selling the remission of sins for a base price often for a bottle of wine probably we shall not be inconvenienced by those absolutions as they will want contrition to make them valid but it may be that their baptisms will cause us some embarrassment the priests will become so ignorant that they will baptize children in nomine patria et filia et spirit sancta as Louis de Potter will take a pleasure in relating in the third volume of his philosophical, political, and critical history of Christianity it will be an arduous question to decide on the validity of such baptisms for even if in my sacred writings I tolerate a Greek less elegant than Plato's and a scarcely Ciceroanian Latin I cannot possibly admit a piece of pure patois as a liturgical formula and one shudders when one thinks that millions of newborn babes will be baptized by this method but let us return to our penguins your divine words Lord have already led us back to them said Saint Gall in the signs of religion and the laws of salvation form necessarily prevails over essence and the validity of a sacrament solely depends upon its form the whole question is whether the penguins have been baptized with the proper forms now there is no doubt about the answer the fathers and the doctors agreed and their perplexity became only the more cruel the Christian state said Saint Cornelius is not without serious inconveniences for a penguin in it the birds are obliged to work out their own salvation how can they succeed the habits of birds are in many points contrary to the commandments of the church and the penguins have no reason for changing theirs I mean that they are not intelligent enough to give up their present habits to resume better they cannot said the Lord my decrees prevent them nevertheless resumed Saint Cornelius in virtue of their baptism their actions no longer remain indifferent henceforth they will be good or bad susceptible of merit or demerit that is precisely the question we have to deal with said the Lord Augustine the penguins will go to hell but they have no soul observed Saint Irenaeus it is a pity said Tertullian it is indeed resumed Saint Gal and I admit that my disciple the holy male has in his blind zeal created great theological difficulties for the Holy Spirit and introduced disorder into the economy of mysteries he cried Saint Adjatar of Alsace shrugging his shoulders but the Lord cast a reproachful look on Adjatar allow me to speak said he the holy male has not intuitive knowledge like you, my blessed ones he does not see me he is an old man burdened by infirmities he is half deaf and three parts blind you are too severe on him however I recognize that the situation is a very embarrassing one luckily it is but a passing disorder said Saint Irenaeus the penguins are baptized but their eggs are not and the evil will stop with a present generation do not speak thus Irenaeus, my son said the Lord there are exceptions to the laws that men of science lay down on the earth because they are imperfect and have not an exact application to nature but the laws that I establish suffer no exception we must decide the fate of the baptized penguins without violating any divine law and in a manner conformable to the Decalogue as well as to the commandments of my church Lord, said Saint Gregory Nazianson give them an immortal soul alas, Lord, what would they do with it? sighed Lactantius they have not tuneful voices to sing your praises they would not be able to celebrate your mysteries without doubt said Saint Augustine they would not observe the divine law they could not said the Lord they could not continued Saint Augustine and if, Lord, in your wisdom you pour an immortal soul into them they will burn eternally in hell in virtue of your adorable decrees thus will the transcendent order that this old Welshman has disturbed be re-established there was a correct solution to me, son of Monica said the Lord and one that accords with my wisdom but it does not satisfy my mercy and although in my essence I am immutable the longer I endure the more I incline to mildness this change of character is evident to anyone who reads my two testaments as the discussion continued without much light being thrown upon the matter and as the blessed showed a disposition to keep repeating the same thing it was decided to consult Saint Catherine of Alexandria this is what was usually done in such cases Saint Catherine, while on earth had confounded fifty very learned doctors she knew Plato's philosophy in addition to the holy scriptures and she also possessed a knowledge of rhetoric End of Chapter 6 This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org This reading is by Michael Cervois Michael.Cervois S-I-R-O-I-S dot com Penguin Island by Anatole France Book 1 The Beginnings Book 1 Chapter 7 An Assembly in Paradise Continuation and End Saint Catherine entered the assembly her hair encircled by a crown of emerald sapphires and pearls and she was clad in a robe of cloth of gold. She carried at her side a blazing wheel the image of the one whose fragments had struck her persecutors. The Lord having invited her to speak she expressed herself in these terms Lord, in order to solve the problem you deigned to submit to me I shall not study the habits of animals in general nor those of birds in particular I shall only remark to the doctors, confessors and pontiffs gathered in this assembly that the separation between man and animal is not complete since there are monsters who proceed from both such are chimeras, half nymphs, and half serpents such are the three gorgons and the capropeds of such are the skillers and the sirens who sing in the sea these have a woman's breast and a fish's tail such also are the centaurs men down to the waist and the remainder horses. They are a noble race and they are the masters. One of them as you know was Abel, guided by the light of reason alone to direct his steps toward eternal blessedness and you sometimes see his heroic bosom prancing on the clouds. Chiron, the centaur, deserved for his works on the earth to share the abode of the blessed. He it was who gave Achilles his education and that young hero when he left the centaurs hands lived for two years dressed as a young girl among the daughters of King Lakomedes he shared their games and their bed without allowing any suspicion to arise that he was not a young virgin like them. Chiron, who taught him such good morals is with the Emperor Trajan the only righteous man who obtained celestial glory by following the law of nature and yet he was but half human. I think I have proved by this example that to reach eternal blessedness it is enough to possess some parts of humanity always on the condition that they are noble and what Chiron the centaur could obtain without having been regenerated by baptism would not the penguins deserve too if they became half penguins and half men. That is why, Lord, I entreat you to give old males penguins a human head and breast so that they can praise you worthily and grant them also an immortal soul but one of small size. Thus Catherine spoke to her father's doctors, confessors and Pontiffs heard her with a murmur of approbation. But St. Anthony the Hermit arose and stretching two red and knotty arms toward the most high. Do not so, O Lord God! he cried. In the name of your Holy Paraclete, do not so. He spoke with such vehemence that his long white beard shook on his chin like the empty nosebag of a hungry horse. Lord, do not so. Words with human heads exist already. St. Catherine has told us nothing new. The imagination groups and compares. It never creates, replied St. Catherine dryly. They exist already, continued St. Anthony who would listen to nothing. They are called harpies and they are the most obscene animals in creation. One day as I was having supper in the desert with the Abbot St. Paul, I placed the table outside my cabin under an old sycamore tree. The harpies came and sat in its branches.  The clamour of the monsters prevented me from listening to the teaching of the Abbot St. Paul and we ate birds dung with our bread and lettuces. Lord, it is impossible to believe that harpies could give thee worthy praise. Truly in my temptations I have seen many hybrid beings not only women serpents and women fishes, but being still more confusedly formed such as men whose bodies were made out of a pot or a bell a clock, a cupboard full of food and crockery or even out of a house with doors and windows through which people engaged in their domestic tasks could be seen. Eternity would not suffice were I to describe all the monsters that assailed me as birds rigged like ships to a shower of red insects which changed the water of my fountain into blood but none were as disgusting as the harpies whose awful polluted the leaves of my sycamore. Harpies, observed like Tantius, are female monsters with birds' bodies. They have a woman's head and breast. Their forwardness, their shamelessness and their obscenity proceed from their female nature as the poet Virgil didn't demonstrate it in his period. They share the curse of Eve. Let us not speak of the curse of Eve, said the Lord. The second Eve has redeemed the first. Paul Erosius, the author of a universal history that Bosway was to imitate in later years, arose and prayed to the Lord. Lord, hear my prayer at Anthony's. Do not make any more monsters like the centaurs, sirens and fawns, whom the Greeks, those electors of fables, loved. You will derive no satisfaction from them. Those species of monsters have pagan inclinations and their double nature does not dispose them to purity of morals. The bland Lactantius replied in these terms. He who has just spoken is assuredly the best historian in paradise for Herodotus, Thucydides, Polybius, Livy, Velius Paticulus, Cornelius Nepus, Mithino, Diodorus Siculus, Dion Cassius and Lampridius are deprived of the sight of God and Tacitus suffers in hell the torments that are reserved for blasphemers. But Paul Erosius does not know heaven as well as he knows the earth, for he does not seem to bear in mind that the angels, who proceed from man and bird, are purity itself. We are wandering, said the Eternal. What have we to do with all those centaurs, harpies and angels? We have to deal with penguins. You have spoken to the Point Lord, said the chief of the fifty doctors who during their mortal life had been confounded by the Virgin of Alexandria and I dare express the opinion that in order to put an end to the scandal by which heaven is now stirred, old males penguins should, as St. Catherine who confounded us has proposed, be given half of a human body with an eternal soul proportioned to that half. At this speech there arose in the assembly a great noise of private conversations and disputes of the doctors. The Greek fathers argued with the Latins concerning the substance, nature and dimensions of the soul that should be given to the penguins. Confessors and Pontiffs exclaimed the Lord, do not imitate the conclaves and synods of the earth and do not bring into the church triumphant those violences that troubled the church militant. For it is but too true that in all the councils held under the inspiration of my spirit, in Europe, in Asia and in Africa, fathers have torn the beards and scratched the eyes of other fathers. Nevertheless they were infallible, for I was with them. Order being restored, old Hermes arose and slowly uttered these words I will praise you Lord for that you caused my mother Saphira to be born amidst your people in the days when the dew of heaven refreshed the earth, which was in travail with its saviour. Praise you Lord for having granted to me to see with my mortal eyes the apostles of your Divine Son. And I will speak in this illustrious assembly, because you have willed that truth should proceed out of the mouths of the humble and I will say, change these penguins to men. It is the only determination conformable to your justice and your mercy. Several doctors asked permission to speak, others began to do so. No one listened and all the confessors were tumultuously shaking their palms in their crowns. The Lord, by a gesture of His right hand, appeased the quarrels of His elect. Let us not deliberate any longer, said He. The opinion broached by gentle old Hermes is the only one conformable to my eternal designs. These birds will be changed into men. I foresee in this several disadvantages. Many of those men will commit sins they would not have committed as penguins. Truly their fate through this change will be far less enviable than if they had been without this baptism and this incorporation into the family of Abraham. But my fore knowledge must not encroach upon their free will. In order not to impair human liberty I will be ignorant of what I know. I will thicken upon my eyes the veils I have pierced and in my blind, clear sightedness I will let myself be surprised by what I have foreseen. And immediately calling the archangel Raphael Go and find the holy male said He to him. Inform him of his mistake and tell him, armed with my name to change these penguins into men. End of Chapter 7 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading is by Michael Sirwaugh Michael.Sirwaugh S-I-R-O-I-S .com Penguin Island by Anatole France. Book 1 The Beginnings Book 1, Chapter 8 Metamorphosis of the Penguins The Archangel having gone down into the island of the penguins found the holy man asleep in the hollow of a rock surrounded by new disciples. He laid his hand on his shoulder and having waked him said in a gentle voice male fear not. The holy man, dazzled by the vivid light, inebriated by a delicious odor, recognized the angel of the Lord and prostrated himself with his forehead on the ground. The angel continued male know thy error believing that Thou were the patron of Adam. Thou has baptized birds and it is through thee that penguins have entered into the church of God. At these words the old man remained stupefied and the angel resumed arise male arm thyself with the mighty name of the Lord and say to these birds be ye men. And the holy male having wept laid, armed himself with the mighty name of the Lord and said to the birds be ye men. Immediately the penguins were transformed. Their foreheads enlarged and their heads grew round like the dome of St. Maria Rotunda in Rome. Their oval eyes opened more widely on the universe. A fleshy nose clothed the two clefts of their nostrils. Their beaks were changed into mouths and from their mouths went forth speech. Their necks grew short and thick. Their wings came arms and their claws legs. A restless soul dwelt within the breast of each of them. However, there remained with them some traces of their first nature. They were inclined to look sideways. They balanced themselves on their short thighs. Their bodies were covered with fine down. And male gave thanks to the Lord because he had incorporated these penguins into the family of Abraham. But he grieved at the thought that he would soon leave the island and go back no more. And that perhaps when he was far away the faith of the penguins would perish for want of care like a young and tender plant. And he formed the idea of transporting their island to the coasts of Armoraca. I know not the designs of eternal wisdom, said he to himself. But if God wills that this island be transported, who could prevent it? And the holy man made a very fine cord about forty feet long He fastened one end of the cord round a point of rock that chutted up through the sand of the shore and holding the other end of the cord in his hand he entered the stone trough. The trough glided over the sea and towed Penguin Island behind it. After nine days sailing it approached the Breton Coast, bringing the island with it. End of Chapter 8 and the end of Book 1 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. This reading is by Michael Sirwa Michael.Sirwa S-I-R-O-I-S .com Penguin Island by Anatole, France Book 2 The Ancient Times Book 2 Chapter 1 The First Clothes One day Saint-Mail was sitting by the seashore on a warm stone on the ground. He thought it had been worn by the sun and he gave thanks to God for it, not knowing that the devil had been resting on it. The apostle was waiting for the monks of Ivern who had been commissioned to bring a freight of skins and fabrics to clothe the inhabitants of the island of Alca. Soon he saw a monk called Magus coming ashore and carrying a chest upon his back. This monk enjoyed a great reputation for holiness. When he had drawn near to the old man and wiping his forehead with the back of his sleeve, he said, Well, Father, you wish then to clothe these penguins? Nothing is more needful, my son, said the old man.  And it is high time to clothe them, for they are losing the down that remained on them after their metamorphosis. It is true, said Magus as he cast his eyes over the coast, where the penguins were to be seen looking for shrimps, gathering muscles, singing or sleeping. They are naked. But do you not think, Father, that it would be better to leave them naked? Why clothe them? When they wear clothes and are under the moral law, they will assume an immense pride of vile hypocrisy and an excessive cruelty. Is it possible, my son, sighed the old man, that you understand so badly the effects of the moral law to which even the heathen submit? The moral law, answered Magus, forces men who are beasts to live otherwise than beasts, a thing that doubtless puts a constraint upon them, but that also flatters and reassures them, and as they are proud, cowardly and covetous of pleasure, they willingly submit to restraints that tickle their vanity, and on which they found both their present security and the hope of their future happiness. That is the principle of all morality. But let us not mislead ourselves. My companions are unloading their cargo of stuffs and skins on the island. Think, Father, while there is still time to clothe the penguins as a very serious business. At present, when a penguin desires a penguin, he knows precisely what he desires, and his interest is limited by an exact knowledge of its object. At this moment, two or three couples of penguins are making love on the beach. See with what simplicity. No one pays any attention, and the actors themselves do not seem to be greatly preoccupied. But when the female penguins are clothed, the male penguin will not form so exact a notion of what it is that attracts him to them. His indeterminate desires are the sorts of dreams and illusions. In short, Father, he will know love and its mad torments.  What a pity! The evil will be indurable as long as these people remain rude and poor. But only wait for a thousand years and you will see, Father, the weapons you have endowed the daughters of Alka. If you will allow me, I can give you some idea of it beforehand. I have some old clothes in this chest. Let us take a hazard at one of the female penguins to whom the male penguins give such little thought. And let us stress her as well as we can. Here is one coming towards us. She is neither more beautiful nor uglier than the others. She is young. No one looks at her. She strolls indolently along the shore, scratching her back and with her finger at her nose as she walks. You cannot help seeing, Father, that she has narrow shoulders, clumsy breasts, a stout figure, and short legs. Her reddish knees pucker at every step she takes. And there is, at each of her joints, what looks like a little monkey's head. Her broad and sinewy feet cling to the rock with their four crooked toes while the great toes tick up like the heads of two cunning serpents. She begins to walk. All her muscles are engaged in the task and when we see them working we think of her as a machine intended for walking rather than as a machine intended for making love. Although visibly she is both and contains within herself several other pieces of machinery besides. Well, venerable apostle, you will see what I am going to make of her. With these words the monk Magus reached the female penguin in three bounds, lifted her up, carried her in his arms, with her hair trailing behind her, and threw her, overcome with fright, at the feet of the holy male. And whilst she wept and begged him to do her no harm, he took a pair of sandals out of his chest and commanded her to put them on. Her feet, observed the old man, will appear smaller when squeezed in by the woollen cords. The soles, being two fingers high, will give an elegant length to her legs and the weight they bear will seem magnified. As the penguin tied on top she threw a curious look towards the open coffer and seeing that it was full of jewels and finery she smiled through her tears. The monk twisted her hair on the back of her head and covered it with a chaplet of flowers. He encircled her wrist with golden bracelets and making her stand upright he passed a large linen band beneath her breasts alleging that her bosom would thereby derive a new dignity and that her sides would be compressed by her hips. He fixed this band with pins taking them one by one out of his mouth. You can tighten it still more, said the penguin. When he had with much care and study enclosed the soft parts of her bust in this way he covered her whole body with a rose-colored tunic which gently followed the lines of her figure. Does it hang well? asked the penguin. And bending forward with her head on one side and her chin on her shoulder with the appearance of her toilette. Megas asked her if she did not think the dress a little long but she answered with assurance that it was not she would hold it up. Immediately taking the back of her skirt in her left hand she drew it obliquely across her hips taking care to disclose a glimpse of her heels then she went away walking with short steps and swinging her hips. She did not turn her head but as she passed near a stream of her own reflection a male penguin who met her by chance stopped in surprise and retracing his steps began to follow her as she went along the shore others coming back from fishing went up to her and after looking at her walked behind her those who were lying on the sand got up and joined the rest. Unceasingly as she advanced fresh penguins descending from the paths of the mountain coming out of clefts of the rocks and emerging from the water headed to the size of her retinue and all of them men of ripe age with vigorous shoulders and hairy breasts agile youths old men shaking the multitudinous wrinkles of their rosy and white-haired skins or dragging their legs thinner and drier than the juniper staff that served them as a third leg hurried on panting and emitting an acrid odor and horse gasps yet she went on peacefully and seemed to see nothing. Father! cried Megas and notice how each one advances with his nose pointed towards the center of gravity of that young damsel now that the center is covered by a garment. The sphere inspires the meditations of geometers by the number of its properties. When it proceeds from a physical and living nature it acquires new qualities and in order that the interest of that figure might be fully revealed to the penguins it was necessary that ceasing to see it distinctly with their eyes they should be led to represent it to themselves in their minds I myself feel at this moment irresistibly attracted towards that penguin whether it be because her skirt gives more importance to her hips and that in its simple magnificence it invests them with a synthetic and general character and allows only the pure idea the divine principle of them to be seen whether this be the cause I cannot say but I feel that if I embraced her I would hold in my hands the heaven of human pleasure it is certain that modesty communicates an invincible attraction to women my uneasiness is so great that it would be vain for me to try to conceal it he spoke and gathering up his habit he rushed among the crowd of penguins, bushing, jostling trampling and crushing until he reached the daughter of Alka whom he seized and suddenly carried in his arms into a cave that had been hollowed out by the sea then the penguins felt as if the sun had gone out and the holy snail knew that the devil had taken the features of the monk Magus in order that he might give clothes to the daughter of Alka he was troubled in spirit and his soul was sad as with slow steps he went towards his hermitage he saw the little penguins of six and seven years of age tightening their wastes with belts made of seaweed and walking along the shore to see if anybody would follow them End of Chapter 1 This is a LibriVox recording and LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org This reading is by Michael Sirwa Michael.Sirwa S-I-R-O-I-S .com Penguin Island by Anatole France Book 2 The Ancient Times Book 2 Chapter 2 The First Clothes A little female felt a profound sadness that the first clothes put upon a daughter of Alka should have betrayed the penguin modesty instead of helping it. He persisted nonetheless in his design of giving clothes to the inhabitants of the miraculous island. Assembling them on the shore he distributed to them the garments that the monks of Ivern had brought. The male penguins received short tunics and breeches the female penguins long robes but these robes were far from creating the effect that the former one had produced they were not so beautiful their shape was uncouth and without art and no attention was paid to them since every woman had one. As they prepared the meals and worked in the fields they soon had nothing but slovenly bodices and soiled petticoats. The male penguins loaded their unfortunate consorts with work until they looked like beasts of burden. They knew nothing of the troubles of the heart and the disorders of passion. Their habits were innocent incest though frequent was a sign of rustic simplicity and if drunkenness led a youth to commit some such crime he thought nothing more about it the day afterwards. End of Chapter 2 This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org This reading is by Michael Sirwa Michael.Sirwa S-I-R-O-I-S .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com End of Chapter 5 This is the LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org This reading is by Michael Sirwa Michael.Sirwa S-I-R-O-I-S .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com .com but none of these councils prevailed, the dispute was lengthy, and the elders dispersed without coming to any resolution. End of Chapter 6. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading is by Michael Sirwa, Michael.Sirwa, S-I-R-O-I-S, dot com. Penguin Island, by Anatole, France. Book 2. The Ancient Times. Book 2. Chapter 7. The Dragon of Alcah. Continuation. During all the month dedicated by the Romans to their false god, Mars, or Mavours, the dragon ravaged the farms of Dalai and Dombay. He carried off fifty sheep, twelve pigs, and three young boys. Every family was in mourning, and the island was full of lamentations. In order to remove the scourge, the elders of the unfortunate villages, watered by the clang and the surrel, resolved to assemble and together go and ask the help of the blessed male. On the fifth day of the month whose name among the latins signifies opening, because it opens the year, they went in procession to the wooden monastery that had been built on the southern coast of the island. When they were introduced into the cloister they filled it with their sobs and groans. Just by their lamentations old male left the room in which he devoted himself to the study of astronomy and the meditation of the scriptures, and went down to them, leaning on his pastoral staff. At his approach the elders, prostrating themselves, held out to him green branches of trees and some of them burnt aromatic herbs, and the holy man, seating himself beside the cloisteral fountain under an ancient fig tree, uttered these words, O my sons, offspring of the penguins, why do you weep and groan? Why do you hold out those suppliant boughs toward me? Why do you raise toward heaven the spoke of those herbs? What calamity do you expect that I can avert from your heads? Why do you beseech me? I am ready to give my life for you. Only tell your father what it is you hope from him." To these questions the chief of the elders answered, O male, father of the sons of Alka, I will speak for all.  He has devoured the child Elo, and seven young boys. He has mangled the maiden Orbarosia, the fairest of the penguins, with his teeth. There is not a village in which he does not emit his poisoned breath, in which he has not filled with desolation. A prey to this terrible scourge we come, O male, to pray thee, as the wisest, to advise us concerning the safety of the inhabitants of this island, lest the ancient race of penguins be extinguished. O chief of the elders of Alka, replied male, thy words fill me with profound grief, and I groan at the thought that this island is the prey of a terrible dragon. But such an occurrence is not unique, for we find in books several tales of very fierce dragons. The monsters are oftenest found in caverns, by the brinks of waters, and in preference among pagan peoples. Perhaps there are some among you who, although they have received holy baptism, and been incorporated into the family of Abraham, have yet worshipped idols, like the ancient Romans, or hung-up images, votive tablets, or fillets of wool, and garlands of flowers on the branches of some sacred tree. Or perhaps some of the women penguins have danced round a magic stone and drunk water from the fountains where the nymphs dwell. If it be so, believe, O penguins, that the Lord has sent this dragon to punish all for the crimes of some, and to lead you, O children of the penguins, to exterminate blasphemies, superstition, and impiety from amongst you. For this reason I advise, as a remedy against the great evil from which you suffer, that you carefully search your dwellings for idolatry, and extirpate it from them. I think it would also be efficacious to pray and to do penance. Thus spoke the holy male, and the elders of the penguin people kissed his feet and returned to their villages with renewed hope. CHAPTER VIII. THE DRAGON OF ELCA. CONTINUATION. During the council of the holy male, the inhabitants of Alca endeavored to uproot the superstitions that had sprung up amongst them. They took care to prevent the girls from dancing within cantations round the fairy-tree, young mothers were sternly forbidden to rub their children against the stones that stood upright in the fields, so as to make them strong. An old man of Dombay, who foretold the future by shaking grains of barley on a sieve, was thrown into a well. However, each night the monster still raided the poultry yards and the cattle sheds. The frightened peasants barricaded themselves in their houses. A woman with child who saw the shadow of a dragon on the road, through a window in the moonlight, was so terrified that she was brought to bed before her time. In those days of trial the holy male meditated unceasingly on the nature of dragons and the means of combating them. After six months of study and prayer, he thought he had found what he sought. One evening, as he was walking by the sea with a young monk called Samuel, he expressed his thought to him in these terms. I have studied at length the history and habits of dragons, not to satisfy a vain curiosity, but to discover examples to follow in the present circumstances. For such, Samuel, my son, is the use of history. It is an invariable fact that dragons are extremely vigilant. They never sleep, and for this reason we often find them employed in guarding treasures. A dragon guarded at Corkus, the golden fleece that Jason conquered from him. A dragon watched over the golden apples in the garden of the Hesperides. He was killed by Hercules and transformed into a star by Juno. This fact is related in some books, and if it be true it was done by magic, for the gods of the pagans are in reality demons. A dragon prevented barbarous and ignorant men from drinking at the fountain of Castalia. We must also remember the dragon of Andromeda, which was slain by Perseus. But let us turn from these pagan fables in which error is always mixed with truth. We meet dragons in the histories of the glorious Archangel Michael, of St. George, St. Philip, St. James the Great, St. Patrick, St. Martha, and St. Margaret. And it is in such writings, since they are worthy of full credence, that we ought to look for comfort and counsel. The story of the dragon of Selena offers us particularly precious examples. You must know, my son, that on the banks of a vast pool, close to that town, there dwelt a dragon who sometimes approached the wolves and poisoned with his breath all who dwelt in the suburbs, and that they might not be devoured by the monster. The inhabitants of Selena delivered up to him one of their number every morning. The victim was chosen by lot, and after a hundred others, the lot fell upon the king's daughter. Now St. George, who was a military tribune, as he passed through the town of Selena, learned that the king's daughter had just been given to the fierce beast.  And when St. George had overthrown the dragon, the king's daughter fastened her girdle around the beast's neck, and he followed her like a dog led on a leash. That is an example for us of the power of virgins over dragons. The history of St. Martha furnishes us with a still more certain proof. Do you know the story, Samuel, my son? Yes, father, answered Samuel. And the blessed male went on. There was a forest on the banks of the Rhome between Arles and Avignon, a dragon half quadruped and half fish, larger than an ox, with sharp teeth like horns and huge wings at his shoulders. He sank the boats and devoured their passengers. Now St. Martha, at the entreaty of the people, approached this dragon, whom she found devouring a man. She put her girdle around his neck and led him easily into the town. These two examples lead me to think that we should have recourse to the power of some virgin, so as to conquer the dragon, scatters terror and death throughout the island of Elka. For this reason, Samuel, my son, gird up thy loins and go, I pray thee, with two of thy companions, into all of the villages of this island, and proclaim everywhere that a virgin alone shall be able to deliver the island from the monster that devastates it. Thou shalt sing Psalms and Canticles, and thou shalt say, O sons of the penguins, if there be among you a pure virgin, let her arise and go, armed with the sign of the cross, to combat the dragon. Thus the old man spake, and Samuel promised to obey him. The next day he girded up his loins and set out with two of his companions to proclaim to the inhabitants of Elka that a virgin alone would be able to deliver the penguins from the rage of the dragon. End of Chapter 8 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading is by Michael Sirwa, Michael.Sirwa, S-I-R-O-I-S, .com. Penguin Island, by Anatole France Book II, The Ancient Times Book II, Chapter IX, The Dragon of Elka, Continuation Orbarosia loved her husband, but she did not love him alone. At the hour when Venus lightens in the pale sky, whilst Kraken scattered terror through the villages, she used to visit in his moving hut a young shepherd of Dalai called Marcel, whose pleasing form was invested with inexhaustible vigor. The fair Orbarosia shared the shepherd's aromatic couch with delight, but far from making herself known to him she took the name of Bridget, and said that she was the daughter of a gardener in the Bay of Divers. When regretfully she left his arms she walked across the smoking fields towards the coast of shadows, and if she happened to meet some belated peasant she immediately spread out her garments like great wings, and cried, Haster, by, lower your eyes that you may not have to say, Alas, alas, woe was me, for I have seen the angel of the Lord! The villagers tremblingly knelt with their faces to the ground, and several of them used to say that angels, whom it would be death to see, passed along the roads of the island in the night time. Kraken did not know of the loves of Orbarosia and Marcel, for he was a hero, and heroes never discover the secrets of their wives. But though he did not know of these loves, he reaped the benefit of them. Every night he found his companion more good-humored and more beautiful, exhaling pleasure, and perfuming the nuptial bed with a delicious odor of fennel and vervein. She loved Kraken with a love that never became importunate or anxious, because she did not rest its whole weight on him alone. This lucky infidelity of Orbarosia was destined soon to save the hero from a great peril, and to assure his fortune and his glory for ever. For it happened that she saw, passing in the twilight, Anit heard from Belmont, who was goading on his oxen, and she fell more deeply in love with him than she had ever been with the shepherd Marcel. He was hunchbacked, his shoulders were higher than his ears, his body was supported by legs of different lengths, his rolling eyes flashed from beneath his matted hair, from his throat issued a horse voice, and strident laughter, he smelt of a cow shed. However, to her, he was beautiful, a plant, as Natho says, has been loved by one, a stream by another, a beast by a third. Now one day, as she was sighing within the neat herds' arms in a village barn, suddenly the blasts of a trumpet with sounds and footsteps fell upon her ears. She looked through the window and saw the inhabitants gathered in the marketplace round a young monk, who, standing upon a rock, uttered these words in a distinct voice, Inhabitants of Belmont, Abbot Mail, our vulnerable father, informs you through my mouth that neither by strength nor skill in arms shall you prevail against the dragon, but the beast shall be overcome by a virgin. If then there be among you a perfectly pure virgin, let her arise and go towards the monster, and when she meets him, let her tie her girdle round his neck, and she shall lead him as easily as if he were a little dog. And the young monk, replacing his hood upon his head, departed to carry the proclamation of the blessed male to other villages.  Although so far as Kraken was concerned, she feared the power of a virgin much less than the strength of armed men, she did not feel reassured by the proclamation of the blessed male. A vague but sure instinct ruled her mind, and warned her that Kraken could not henceforth be a dragon with safety. She said to the neat herd, �My own heart, what do you think about the dragon?� The rustic shook his head. �It is certain that dragons laid waste to the earth in ancient times, and some have been seen as large as mountains, but they come no longer. And I believe that what has been taken for a dragon is not one at all, but pirates or merchants who have carried off the fair Orbarosia and the best of the children of Alka and their ships. But if one of those brigands attempts to rob me of my oxen, I will either by force or craft find a way to prevent him from doing me any harm.� This remark of the neat herd increased Orbarosia's apprehensions, and added to her solicitude for the husband whom she loved. End of Chapter 9 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading is by Michael Cervois, Michael.Cervois, S-I-R-O-I-S, .com. Penguin Island, by Anatole France Book II, The Ancient Times Book II, Chapter X, The Dragon of Alka, Continuation The days passed by, and no maiden arose in the island to combat the monster, and in the wooden monastery, old male, seated on a bench in the shade of an old fig tree, accompanied by a pious monk called Regimental, kept asking himself anxiously and sadly how it was that there was not in Alka a single virgin fit to overthrow the monster. He sighed, and brother Regimental sighed, too. At that moment old male called young Samuel, who happened to pass through the garden and said to him, �I have meditated anew, my son, on the means of destroying the dragon who devours the flower of our youth, our flocks and our harvests. In this respect, the story of the dragons of St. Ryok and of St. Paul de Leon seems to me particularly instructive. The dragon of St. Ryok was six fathoms long.  He ravaged the banks of the Elorn in the time of King Bristakus. St. Ryok, then aged two years, led him by a leash to the sea, in which the monster drowned himself of his own accord. St. Paul's dragon was sixty feet long and not less terrible. The blessed apostle of Leon bound him with his stole and allowed a young noble of great purity of life to lead him. These examples prove that in the eyes of God a chaste young man is as agreeable as a chaste girl. Heaven makes no distinction between them. For this reason, my son, if you believe what I say, we will both go to the coast of shadows. When we reach the dragon's cabin, we will call the monster in a loud voice, and when he comes forth I will tie my stole round his neck, and you will lead him to the sea, where he will not fail to drown himself.  You seem to hesitate, my son, said Mail. Brother Regimental, contrary to his custom, spoke without being addressed. There is at least cause for some hesitation, said he. St. Ryok was only two years old when he overcame the dragon. Who says that nine or ten years later he could have done as much? Remember, father, that the dragon who is devastating our island has devoured little Elo, and four or five other young boys. Brother Samuel is not so presumptuous as to believe that at nineteen years of age he is more innocent than they were at twelve and fourteen. Alas! added the monk with a groan, who can boast of being chaste in this world, where everything gives the example and model of love, where all things in nature, animals and plants show us the caresses of love and advise us to share them. Animals are eager to unite in their own fashion, but the various marriages of quadrupeds, birds, fishes and reptiles are far from equaling in lust the nuptials of the trees. The greatest extremes of lewdness that the pagans have imagined in their fables are outstripped by the simple flowers of the field. And if you knew the irregularities of lilies and roses, you would take those chalices of impurity, those vases of scandal away from your alters. Do not speak in this way, brother regimental, answered old male. Since they are subject to the laws of nature, animals and plants are always innocent. They have no souls to save, whilst man— You are right, replied brother regimental. It is quite a different thing. But do not send young Samuel to the dragon. The dragon might devour him. For the last five years Samuel is not in a state to show his innocence to monsters. In the year of the comet, the devil, in order to seduce him, put in his path a milkmaid who was lifting up her petticoat to cross a ford. Samuel was tempted, but he overcame the temptation. The devil, who never tires, sent him the image of that young girl in a dream. The shade did what the reality was unable to accomplish, and Samuel yielded. When he awoke, he moistened his couch with his tears. But alas, repentance did not give him back his innocence. As he listened to the story, Samuel asked himself how his secret could be known, for he was ignorant that the devil had borrowed the appearance of brother regimental, so as to trouble the hearts of the monks of Alka. And old male remained deep in thought and kept asking himself in grief, Who will deliver us from the dragon's tooth? Who will preserve us from his breath? Who will save us from his look? However, the inhabitants of Alka began to take courage. The laborers of Dombay and the neat herds of Belmont swore that they themselves would be of more avail than a girl against the ferocious beast, and they exclaimed as they stroked the muscles on their arms, Let the dragon come! Many men and women had seen him. They did not agree about his form and his figure, but all now united in saying that he was not as big as they had thought, and that his height was not much greater than a man's. The defense was organized. Towards nightfall, watches were stationed at the entrances of the villages, ready to give the alarm, and during the night companies armed with pitchforks and scythes protected the paddocks in which the animals were shut up. Indeed, once in the village of Anise, some plucky laborers surprised him as he was scaling Mario's wall, and as they had flails, scythes, and pitchforks, they fell upon him and pressed him hard. One of them, a very quick and courageous man, thought to have run him through with his pitchfork, but he slipped in a pool and so let him escape. The others would certainly have caught him had they not waited to pick up the rabbits and fowls that he dropped in his flight. Those laborers declared to the elders of the village that the monster's form and proportions appeared to them human enough, except for his head and his tail, which were in truth terrifying. On that day Kraken came back to his cavern sooner than usual. He took from his head his seal-skin helmet with its two bull's horns and his visor trimmed with terrible hooks. He threw on the table his gloves that ended in horrible claws. They were the beaks of sea-birds. He unhooked his belt from which hung a long green tail twisted into many folds, then he ordered his page elow to help him off with his boots, and as the child did not succeed in doing this very quickly he gave him a kick that sent him to the other end of the grotto. Without looking at the fair Orborosia, who was spinning, he seated himself in front of the fireplace on which a sheep was roasting, and he muttered, ignoble penguins, there is no worse trade than a dragon's. What does my master say? asked the fair Orborosia. They fear me no longer, continued Kraken. Formally everyone fled at my approach. I carried away hens and rabbits in my bag. I drove sheep and pigs, cows and oxen before me. Today these Claudehoppers keep a good guard. They sit up at night. Just now I was pursued in the village of Annus by dotty laborers armed with flails and sighs and pitchforks. I had to drop the hens and rabbits, put my tail under my arm, and run as fast as I could. Now I ask you, is it seemly for a dragon of Cappadocia to run away like a robber with his tail under his arm? Further, incommodated as I was by crests, horns, hooks, claws, and scales, I barely escaped a brute who ran half an inch of his pitchfork into my left thigh.  I'm tired of blowing flames in the faces of such imbeciles. Orborosia, do you hear me? Having thus spoken, the hero raised his terrible helmet in his hands and gazed at it for a long time in gloomy silence. Then he pronounced these rapid words. I have made this helmet with my own hands in the shape of a fish's head, covering it with the skin of a seal. To make it more terrible I have put on it the horns of a bull, and I have given it a borse jaws. I've hung from it a horse's tail dyed vermilion. When in the gloomy twilight I threw it over my shoulders no inhabitant of this island had courage to withstand its sight. Women and children, young men and old men, fled distracted its approach, and I carried terror from among the whole race of penguins. By what advice does that insolent people lose its earlier fears and dare to day to behold these horrible jaws and to attack this terrible crest? And throwing his helmet on the rocky soil, Parished a seatful helmet, cried Kraken, I swear by all the demons of armor that I will never bear you upon my head again. And having uttered this oath he stamped upon his helmet. His gloves is boot and upon his tail with its twisted folds. Kraken, said the Fair Orborosia, will you allow your servant to employ artifice, to save your reputation and your goods? Do not despise a woman's help. You need it for all men or imbeciles. Woman, asked Kraken, what are your plans? And the Fair Orborosia informed her husband that the monks were going through the villages teaching the inhabitants the best way of combating the dragon, that according to their instructions the beast would be overcome by a virgin, and that if a maid placed her girdle around the dragon's neck she could lead him as easily as if he were a little dog. How do you know that the monks teach this? asked Kraken. My friend, answered Orborosia, do not interrupt a serious subject by a frivolous question. If then, added the monks, there be in Alka a pure virgin, let her arise. Now, Kraken, I have determined to answer their call. I will go and find the holy male, and I will say to him, I am the virgin destined by heaven to overthrow the dragon. At these words Kraken exclaimed, How can you be that pure virgin? And why do you want to overthrow me, Orborosia? Have you lost your reason? Be sure that I will not allow myself to be conquered by you. Can you not try and understand me before you get angry? sighed the Fair Orborosia with deep, though gentle contempt. Then she explained the cunning designs that she had formed. As he listened, the hero remained pensive. And when she ceased speaking, Orborosia, your cunning is deep, said he, and if your plans are carried out according to your intentions I shall derive great advantages from them. But how can you be the virgin destined by heaven? Don't bother about that, she replied, and come to bed. The next day, in the grease-laden atmosphere of the cavern, Kraken plated a deformed skeleton out of osir-rods, and covered it with bristling, scaly, and filthy skins. To one extremity of the skeleton, Orborosia sewed the fierce crest and the hideous mask that Kraken used to wear in his plundering expeditions. And to the other end she fastened the tail with twisted folds, which the hero was want to trail behind him. And when the work was finished, they showed little Elo and the other five children, who waited on them, how to get inside this machine, how to make it walk, how to blow horns and burn toe in it, so as to send forth smoke and flames through the dragon's mouth. Penguin Island by Anatole France Book II The Ancient Times Book II Chapter XII The Dragon of Alca, Continuation Orborosia, having clothed herself in a robe made of coarse stuff and gird herself with a thick cord, went to the monastery and asked to speak to the blessed male. And because women were forbidden to enter the enclosure of the monastery, the old man advanced outside the gates, holding his pastoral cross in his right hand, and resting his left on the shoulder of Brother Samuel, the youngest of his disciples. He asked, Woman, who art thou? I am the maiden Orborosia. At this reply, male raised his trembling arms to heaven. Do you speak truth, woman? It is a certain fact that Orborosia was devoured by the dragon, and yet I see Orborosia and hear her. Did you not, O my daughter, while within the dragon's bowels, arm yourself with the sign of the cross and come uninjured out of his throat? That is what seems to me the most credible explanation. You are not deceived, Father, answered Orborosia. That is precisely what happened to me. Immediately I came out of the creature's bowels. I took refuge in a hermitage on the coast of shadows. I lived there in solitude, giving myself up to prayer and meditation and performing unheard of austerities, until I learned by a revelation from heaven that a maid alone could overcome the dragon and that I was that maid. Show me a sign of your mission, said the old man. I myself am the sign, answered Orborosia.  But are you indeed such as you say? You will see by the result, answered Orborosia. The monk regimental drew near. That will, said he, be the best proof. King Solomon has said, three things are hard to understand, and a fourth is impossible. They are the way of a serpent on the earth, the way of a bird in the air, the way of a ship in the sea, and the way of a man with a maid. I regard such matrons as nothing less than presumptuous who claim to compare themselves in these matters with the wisest of kings. Father, if you are led by me, you will not consult them in regard to the pious Orborosia. When they have given their opinion, you will not be a bit farther on than before. Virginity is not less difficult to prove than to keep. Lini tells us in his history that its signs are either imaginary or very uncertain. The author inserts a note at this point. We have vainly sought for this phrase in Lini's natural history. One who bears upon her the fourteen signs of corruption may yet be pure at the eyes of the angels, and on the contrary, another who has been pronounced pure by the matrons who inspected her may know that her good appearance is due to the artifices of a cunning perversity. As for the purity of this holy girl here, I would put my hand in the fire and witness of it. He spoke thus because he was the devil, but old Male did not know it. He asked the pious Orborosia, My daughter, how would you proceed to conquer so fierce an animal as he who devoured you? The Virgin answered, Tomorrow at sunrise, O Male, you will summon the people together on the hill in front of the desolate moor that extends to the coast of shadows, and you will take care that no man of the penguins remains less than five hundred paces from those rocks so that he may not be poisoned by the monster's breath, and the dragon will come out of the rocks, and I will put my girdle round his neck and lead him like an obedient dog. But you not to be accompanied by a courageous and pious man who will kill the dragon? asked Male. It will be as thou sayest, venerable father. I shall deliver the monster to Kraken, who will slay him with his flashing sword, for I tell thee that the noble Kraken, who was believed to be dead, will return among the penguins, and he shall slay the dragon, and from the creature's belly will come forth the little children whom he has devoured. What you declare to me, O Virgin? cried the apostle. Seems wonderful and beyond human power. It is, answered the Virgin Orborosia, but learn, O Male, that I have had a revelation that as a reward for their deliverance the penguin people will pay to the knight Kraken an annual tribute of three hundred fowls, twelve sheep, two oxen, three pigs, one thousand eight hundred bushels of corn, and vegetables according to their season, and that, moreover, the children who will come out of the dragon's belly will be given and committed to the said Kraken to serve him and obey him in all things. If the penguin people fail to keep their engagements, a new dragon will come upon the island more terrible than the first. I have spoken. End of Chapter 12. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading is by Michael Sirwa, Michael.Sirwa, S-I-R-O-I-S, dot com. Penguin Island by Anatole, France. Book II, The Ancient Times. Book II, Chapter 13. The Dragon of Alka. Continuation and End. The people of the penguins were assembled by mail, and they spent the night on the coast of shadows within the bounds which the holy man had prescribed in order that none among the penguins should be poisoned by the monster's breath. The veil of night still covered the earth when, preceded by a horse bellowing, the dragon showed his indistinct and monstrous form upon the rocky coast. He crawled like a serpent, and his writhing body seemed about fifteen feet long. At his appearance the crowd drew back in terror, but soon all eyes were turned towards the virgin Orborosia, who in the first light of the dawn, clothed in white, advanced over the purple heather. With an intrepid, though modest, gate she walked towards the beast, who uttering awful bellowings opened his flaming throat. An immense cry of terror and pity arose from the midst of the penguins, but the virgin, unloosing her linen girdle, put it round the dragon's neck, and led him on the leash like a faithful dog, amid the acclamations of the spectators. She had walked over a long stretch of the heath when Kraken appeared armed with a flashing sword. The people who believed him dead uttered cries of joy and surprise. The hero rushed towards the beast, turned him over on his back, and with his sword cut open his belly. From whence came forth in their shirts, with curling hair enfolded hands, little Elo and the five other children whom the monster had devoured. Immediately they threw themselves on their knees before the virgin or Borosia, who took them in her arms and whispered into their ears.  The inhabitants will give you abundance of all that you can desire. But if you say anything else, you will get nothing but cuffs and whippings. Go. Several penguins, seeing the dragon disembowled, rushed forward to cut him to pieces, some from a feeling of rage and vengeance, others to get the magic stone called dragonite that is engendered in his head. The mothers of the children who had come back to life ran to embrace their little ones, but the holy male kept them back, saying that none of them were holy enough to approach a dragon without dying.  And all who heard them kissed them and said, Busted children, we will give you abundance of all that you can desire. And the crowd of people dispersed, full of joy, singing hymns and catacls. To commemorate this day on which Providence delivered the people from a cruel scourge, processions were established in which the effigy of a chained dragon was led about. Kraken levied the tribute and became the richest and most powerful of the penguins. As a sign of his victory, and so as to inspire a salutary terror, he wore a dragon's crest upon his head, and he had a habit of saying to the people, Now that the monster is dead, I am the dragon. For many years Oberosia bestowed her favors upon neathearts and shepherds, whom she thought equal to the gods. But when she was no longer beautiful she consecrated herself to the Lord. At her death she became the object of public veneration, and was admitted into the calendar of the saints and adopted as the patron saint of Penguinia. Then left a son, who like his father wore a dragon's crest, and he was for this reason surnamed Draco. He was the founder of the first royal dynasty of the penguins. End of Chapter 13. And the end of Book II. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading is by Michael Sirwa. The King's of Alca were descended from Draco, the son of Kraken, and they wore on their heads a terrible dragon's crest, as a sacred badge, whose appearance alone inspired the people with veneration, terror, and love. They were perpetually in conflict, either with their own vassals and subjects or with the princes of the adjoining islands and continents. The most ancient of these kings has left but a name. We do not even know how to pronounce or write it. The first of the Draganites, whose history is known, was Brian the Good, renowned for his skill and courage in war and in the chase. He was a Christian and loved learning. He also favored men who had vowed themselves to the monastic life. In the hall of his palace where, under the sooty rafters, there hung the heads, pelts, and horns of wild beasts, he held feasts to which all the harpers of Alca and of the neighboring islands were invited, and he himself used to join in singing the praises of the heroes. He was just and magnanimous, but inflamed by so ardent a love of glory that he could not restrain himself from putting to death those who had sung better than himself. The monks of Ivern having been driven out by the pagans who ravaged Brittany, King Brian summoned them into his kingdom and built a wooden monastery for them near his palace. Every day he went with Queen Glamorgan, his wife, into the monastery chapel, and was present at the religious ceremonies and joined in the hymns. Now among these monks there was a brother called Adul, who, while still in the flower of his youth, had adorned himself with knowledge and virtue. The devil entertained a great grudge against him, and attempted several times to lead him into temptation. He took several shapes, and appeared to him in turn as a war horse, a young maiden, and a cup of mead. Then he rattled two dice in a dice-box and said to him, Will you play with me for the kingdoms of the world against one of the hairs of your head? But the man of the Lord, armed with the sign of the cross, repulsed the enemy. Perceiving that he could not seduce him, the devil thought of an artful plan to ruin him. One summer night he approached the queen, who slept upon her couch, showed her an image of the young monk whom she saw every day in the wooden monastery, and upon this image he placed a spell. Forthwith, like a subtle poison, love flowed into Glamorgan's veins, and she burned with an ardent desire to do as she listed with Adul. She found unceasing pretexts to have him near her. Several times she asked him to teach reading and singing to her children. I entrust them to you," said she to him, and will follow the lessons you will give them so that I myself may learn also. You will teach both mother and sons at the same time. But the young monk kept making excuses. At times he would say that he was not a learned enough teacher, and on other occasions that his state forbade him all intercourse with women. This refusal inflamed Glamorgan's passion. One day as she lay pining on her couch, her malady having become intolerable, she summoned Adul to her chamber. He came in obedience to her orders, but remained with his eyes cast down towards the threshold of the door. With impatience and grief she resented is not looking at her. See, said she to him, I have no more strength. The shadow is on my eyes. My body is both burning and freezing. And as he kept silence and made no movement, she called him in a voice of entreaty. Come to me. Come! Without stretched arms, to which passion gave more length, she endeavored to seize him and draw him towards her, but he fled away reproaching her for her wantoness. Then, incensed with rage and fearing that Adul might divulge the shame into which she had fallen, she determined to ruin him so that he might not ruin her. In a voice of lamentation that resounded throughout all the palace she called for help, as if in truth she were in some great danger. Her servants rushed up and saw the young monk fleeing, and the queen pulling back the sheets upon her couch. They all cried out together, and when King Brian, attracted by the noise entered the chamber, Glamorgan showing him her dishevelled hair, her eyes flooded with tears, and her bosom that in the fury of her love she had torn with her nails, said, my lord and husband, behold, the traces of the insults I have undergone.  When he heard these complaints and saw the blood, the king transported with fury ordered his guards to seize the young monk and burn him alive before the palace under the queen's eyes. Being told of the affair, the abbot of Ivern went to the king and said to him, King Brian, know by this example the difference between a Christian woman and a pagan. Roman Lucretia was the most virtuous of idolatrous princesses, yet she had not the strength to defend herself against the attacks of an effeminate youth, and ashamed of her weakness, she gave way to despair, whilst Glamorgan has successfully withstood the assaults of a criminal filled with rage and possessed by the most terrible of demons. Meanwhile, Adul, in the prison of the palace, was waiting for the moment when he should be burned alive, but God did not suffer an innocent to perish. He sent to him an angel, who, taking the form of one of the queen's servants called Gudrun, took him out of his prison and led him into the very room where the woman whose appearance he had taken dwelt. And the angel said to young Adul, I love thee because thou art daring. And young Adul, believing that it was Gudrun herself, answered with downcast looks, it is by the grace of the lord that I have resisted the violence of the queen and braved the anger of that powerful woman. And the angel asked, What, has thou not done what the queen accuses thee of? In truth, no, I have not done it, answered Adul, his hand on his heart. Thou hast not done it? No, I have not done it. The very thought of such an action fills me with horror. Then, cried the angel, What are you doing here, thou impotent creature? A note from the author. The Penguin Chronicler, who relates the fact, employs the expression, Species Inductilis. I have endeavored to translate it literally. And she opened the door to facilitate the young man's escape. Adul felt himself pushed violently out. Scarcely had he gone down into the street, then a chamber pot was poured over his head. And he thought, Mysterious are thy designs, O Lord, and thy ways past finding out. End of book 3, chapter 1. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading is by Michael Sirwa. Michael.Sirwa, S-I-R-O-I-S, dot com. Penguin Island, by Anatole France. Book 3. The Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Book 3, chapter 2. Draco the Great. Translation of the Relics of St. Orborosia. The direct posterity of Brian the Good was extinguished about the year 900 in the person of Colick of the short nose. The cousin of that prince, Bosco the Magnanimous, succeeded him, and took care in order to assure himself of the throne to put to death all of his relations. There issued from him a long line of powerful kings. One of them, Draco the Great, attained great renown as a man of war. He was defeated more frequently than the others. It is by this constancy and defeat that great captains are recognized. In twenty years he burned down more than a hundred thousand hamlets, market towns, un-walled towns, villages, walled towns, cities, and universities.  And he used to explain his conduct by saying, War without fire is like a tripe without mustard. It is an unsip-id thing. His justice was rigorous. When the peasants whom he made prisoners were unable to raise the money for their ransoms, he had them hanged from a tree. And if any unhappy woman came to plead for her destitute husband, he dragged her by the hair at his horse's tail. He lived like a soldier without effeminacy. It is satisfactory to relate that his manner of life was pure. Not only did he allow his kingdom to decline from its hereditary glory, but even in his reverses he valiantly supported the honor of the Penguin people. Draco the Great caused the relics of Saint Orbarosia to be transferred to Alca. The body of the Blessed Saint had been buried in a grotto on the coast of Shadows at the end of a scented heath. The first pilgrims who went to visit it were the boys and girls from the neighboring villages. They used to go there in the evening by preference in couples, as if their pious desires naturally sought satisfaction in darkness and solitude. They worshiped the saint with a fervent and discreet worship, whose mystery they seemed jealously to guard, for they did not like to publish too openly the experiences they felt. But they were heard to murmur one to another words of love, delight, and rapture, with which they mingled the name of Orbarosia. Some would sigh that there they forgot the world, others would say that they came out of the grotto in peace and calm. The young girls among them used to recall to each other the joy with which they had been filled in it. Such were the marvels that the Virgin of Alca performed in the morning of her glorious eternity, they had the sweetness and indefiniteness of the dawn. Soon the mystery of the grotto spread like a perfume throughout the land. It was a ground of joy and edification for pious souls, and corrupt men endeavored, though in vain, by falsehood and calamity to divert the faithful from the springs of grace that flowed from the saint's tomb. The church took measures so that these graces should not remain reserved for a few children, but should be diffused through all penguin Christianity. Monks took up their quarters in the grotto. They built a monastery, a chapel, and a hostelry on the coast, and pilgrims began to flock thither. As if strengthened by a longer sojourn in heaven, the Blessed Orbarosia now performed still greater miracles for those who came to lay their offerings on her tomb. She gave hopes to women who had been hitherto barren. She sent dreams to reassure jealous old men concerning the fidelity of the young wives whom they had suspected without cause. And she protected the country from plagues, muraines, famines, tempests, and dragons of Capitosea. But during the troubles that desolated the kingdom in the time of King Colocan and his successors, the tomb of Saint Orbarosia was plundered of its wealth, the monastery burned down, and the monks dispersed. The road that had been so long trodden by devout pilgrims was overgrown with furs and heather, and the blue thistles of the sands. For a hundred years the miraculous tomb had been visited by nuns-save vipers, weasels, and bats, when one day the saint appeared to a peasant of the neighborhood, memortic by name. I am the Virgin Orbarosia, said she to him. I have chosen thee to restore my sanctuary, warn the inhabitants of the country that if they allow my memory to be blotted out and leave my tomb without honor and wealth, a new dragon will come and devastate Pinguinia. Learned churchmen held an inquiry concerning this apparition and pronounced it genuine and not diabolical but truly heavenly. And in later years it was remarked that in France, in like circumstances, St. Foy and St. Catherine had acted in the same way and made use of similar language. The monastery was restored and pilgrims flocked to it anew. The Virgin Orbarosia worked greater and greater miracles. She cured diverse hurtful maladies, particularly clubfoot, tropsy, paralysis, and St. Guy's disease. The monks who kept the tomb were enjoying an enviable opulence when the saint, appearing to King Draco the Great, ordered him to recognize her as the heavenly patron of the kingdom and to transfer her precious remains to the Cathedral of Alca. In consequence, the Oderiferous relics of that virgin were carried with great pomp to the Metropolitan Church and placed in the middle of the choir in a shrine made of gold and enamel and ornamented with precious stones. The chapter kept a record of the miracles wrought by the Blessed Orbarosia. Draco the Great, who had never ceased to defend and exalt the Christian faith, died fulfilled with the most pious sentiments and bequeathed his great possessions to the church. End of Book Three, Chapter Two. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading is by Michael Serois. Michael.Serois, S-I-R-O-I-S, dot com. Penguin Island, by Anatole France. Book Three, The Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Book Three, Chapter Three, Queen Crucha. Terrible disorders followed the death of Draco the Great. That Prince's successors have often been accused of weakness and it is true that none of them followed even from afar the example of their valiant ancestor. His son, Chum, who was lame, failed to increase the territory of the penguins. Bolo, the son of Chum, was assassinated by the palace guards at the age of nine, just as he was ascending the throne. His brother, Gun, succeeded him. He was only seven years old and allowed himself to be governed by his mother, Queen Crucha. Crucha was beautiful, learned and intelligent, but she was unable to curb her own passions. These are the terms in which the venerable Talpa expresses himself in his chronicle regarding that illustrious queen. In beauty of face and symmetry of figure, Queen Crucha yields neither to Samaramas of Babylon, nor to Pentacilia, Queen of the Amazons, nor to Salome the daughter of Herodias, but she offers in her person certain singularities that will appear beautiful or uncommonly according to the contradictory opinions of men and the varying judgements of the world. She has on her forehead two small horns which she conceals in the abundant folds of her golden hair. One of her eyes is blue and one is black. Her neck is bent towards the left side and like Alexander of Macedon, she has six fingers on her right hand and a stain like a little monkey's head upon her skin. Her gait is majestic and her manner affable. She is magnificent in her expenses, but she is not always able to rule desire by reason. One day, having noticed in the palace stables a young groom of great beauty, she immediately fell violently in love with him and entrusted to him the command of her armies. But one must praise unreservedly in this great queen is the abundance of gifts that she makes to the churches, monasteries, and chapels in her kingdom, and especially to the holy house of Beargarden, whereby the grace of the Lord I made my profession in my 14th year. She has founded masses for the repose of her soul in such great numbers that every priest in the Penguin Church is, so to speak, transformed into a taper, lighted in the sight of heaven to draw down the divine mercy upon the Auguste Cruchat. From these lines and from others with which I have enriched my text, the reader can judge of the historical and literary value of the Gesta Penguinorum. Unhappily that chronicle suddenly comes to an end at the third year of Draco the Simple, the successor of Gun the Week. Having reached that point of my history, I deplore the loss of an agreeable and trustworthy guide. During the two centuries that followed, the penguins remained plunged in bloodstain disorder, all the arts perished. In the midst of the general ignorance, the monks and the shadow of their cloister devoted themselves to study and copied the holy scriptures within defatigable zeal. As parchment was scarce, they scraped the writing off old manuscripts in order to transcribe upon them the divine word. Thus, throughout the breadth of penguinia, Bibles blossomed forth like roses on a bush. A monk of the order of St. Benedict, Eremold the Penguin, had himself alone defaced 4,000 Greek and Latin manuscripts so as to copy out the Gospel of St. John 4,000 times. Thus the masterpieces of ancient poetry and eloquence were destroyed in great numbers. Historians are unanimous in recognizing that the penguin convents were the refuge of learning during the Middle Ages. Unending wars between the penguins and the porpoises filled the close of this period. It is extremely difficult to know the truth concerning these wars, not because accounts are wanting, but because there are so many of them. The porpoise chronicles contradict the penguin chronicles at every point, and moreover, the penguins contradict each other as well as the porpoises. I have discovered two chronicles that are in agreement, but one has copied from the other. A single fact is certain, namely that massacres, rapes, conflagrations, and plunder succeeded one another without interruption. Under the unhappy prince Bosco IX, the kingdom was at the verge of ruin. On the news that the porpoise fleet, composed of 600 great ships, was in sight of Alca, the bishop ordered a solemn procession. The cathedral chapter, the elected magistrates, the members of parliament, and the clerics of the university, entered the cathedral, and taking up St. Orborosia's shrine, led it in procession through the town, followed by the entire people singing hymns. The holy patron of Penguinia was not invoked in vain. Nevertheless, the porpoises besieged the town both by land and sea, took it by assault, and for three days and three nights, killed, plundered, violated, and burned, with all the indifference that habit produces. Our astonishment cannot be too great at the fact that during those iron ages, the faith was preserved intact among the penguins. The splendor of the truth in those times illumined all souls that had not been corrupted by Sophisms. This is the explanation of the unity of belief. A constant practice of the church, doubtless contributed also to maintain this happy communion of the faithful. Every penguin who thought differently from the others was immediately burned at the stake. End of Book III, Chapter III. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading is by Michael Sirwa, Michael.Sirwa, S-I-R-O-I-S dot com. Penguin Island, by Anatole France. Book III, The Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Book III, Chapter IV, Letters, Johannes Talpa. During the minority of King Gunn, Johannes Talpa in the Monastery of Beargarden, where at the age of fourteen he had made his profession, and from which he never departed for a single day throughout his life, composed his celebrated Latin Chronicle in twelve books called De Guestus Penguinorum. The Monastery of Beargarden lifts its high walls on the summit of an inaccessible peak, once he surrounded only the blue tops of mountains divided by the clouds. When he began to write his Guest of Penguinorum, Johannes Talpa was already old. The Good Monk has taken care to tell us this in his book. My head has long since lost, he says. It's adornment of fair hair, and my scalp resembles those convex mirrors of metal which the Penguin ladies consult with so much care and zeal. My stature, naturally small, has with years become diminished and bent. My white beard gives warmth to my breast.  Descended, he tells us, from a noble family and destined from childhood for the ecclesiastical state, I was taught grammar and music. I learned to read under the guidance of a master who was called Amicus and who would have been better named Enimicus. As I did not easily attain to a knowledge of my letters, he beat me violently with rods so that I can say that he printed the alphabet in strokes upon my back. In another passage, Talpa confesses his natural inclination towards pleasure. These are his expressive words. In my youth, the ardour of my senses was such that in the shadow of the woods, I experienced a sensation of boiling in a pot rather than of breathing the fresh air. I fled from women, but in vain for every object recalled them to me. While he was writing his Chronicle, a terrible war that once foreign and domestic laid waste the penguin land. The soldiers of Crucha came to defend the monastery of Bear Garden against the penguin barbarians and established themselves strongly within its walls. In order to render it impregnable, they pierced loopholes through the walls and they took the lead off the church roof to make bowls for their slings. At night they lighted huge fires in the courts and cloisters and on them they roasted whole oxen, which they spitted upon the ancient pine trees of the mountain.  Their songs, their blasphemies, and the noise of their quarrels drowned the sound of the morning bells. At last the porpoises having crossed the defiles laid siege to the monastery. They were warriors from the north, clad in copper armor. They fastened ladders 150 fathoms long to the sides of the cliffs and sometimes in the darkness and storm these broke beneath the weight of men and arms and bunches of the besiegers were hurled into the ravines and precipices. A prolonged wail could be heard going down into the darkness and the assault would begin again. The penguins poured streams of burning wax upon their assailants which made them blaze like torches. Sixty times the enraged porpoises attempted to scale the monastery and 60 times they were repulsed. For six months they had closely invested the monastery when on the day of the epiphany a shepherd of the valley showed them a hidden path by which they climbed the mountain, penetrated into the vaults of the abbey, ran through the cloisters, the kitchens, the church, the chapter halls, the library, the laundry, the cells, the refectories and the dormitories and burned the buildings, killing and violating without distinction of age or sex. The penguins, awakened unexpectedly, ran to arms but in the darkness and alarm they struck at one another whilst the porpoises with blows of their axes disputed the sacred vessels, the censors, the candlesticks, dalmatics, reliquaries, golden crosses and precious stones. The air was filled with an acrid odor of burnt flesh. Growns and death cries arose in the midst of the flames and on the edges of the crumbling roofs monks ran in thousands like ants and fell into the valley yet Johannes Talpa kept on writing his chronicle. The soldiers of Crucha retreated speedily and filled up all the issues from the monastery with pieces of rock so as to shut up the porpoises in the burning buildings and to crush the enemy beneath the ruin they employed the trunks of old oaks as battering rams. The burning timbers fell in with a noise like a thunder and the lofty arches of the knaves crumbled beneath the shock of these giant trees when moved by six hundred men together. Soon there was left nothing of the rich and extensive abbey but the cell of Johannes Talpa which by a marvelous chance hung from the ruin of a smoking gable. The old chronicler still kept writing. This admirable intensity of thought may seem excessive in the case of an analyst who applies himself to relate the events of his own time. However abstracted and detached we may be from surrounding things we nevertheless resent their influence. I have consulted the original manuscript of Johannes Talpa in the National Library where it is preserved, Monumenta Penguinorum, K.L. 6, 12394. It is a parchment manuscript of six hundred and twenty-eight leaves. The writing is extremely confused. The letters instead of being in a straight line stray in all directions and are mingled together in great disorder or more correctly speaking in absolute confusion. They are so badly formed that for the most part it is impossible not merely to say what they are but even to distinguish them from the splashes of ink with which they are plentifully interspersed. Those inestimable pages bear witness in this way to the troubles amid which they were written. To read them is difficult. On the other hand the Monk of Beargarden style shows no trace of emotion. The tone of the guest of Penguinorum never departs from simplicity. The narration is rapid and of a conciseness that sometimes approaches dryness. The reflections are rare and as a ruled judicious. End of Book 3, Chapter 4. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading is by Michael Serois, Michael.Serois, S-I-R-O-I-S, dot com. Penguin Island by Anatole France. Book 3, The Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Book 3, Chapter 5. The Primitives of Penguin Painting. The Penguin critics vie with one another in affirming that Penguin art has from its origin been distinguished by a powerful and pleasing originality and that we may look elsewhere in vain for the qualities of grace and reason that characterize its earliest works. But the porpoises claim that their artists were undoubtedly the instructors and masters of the Penguins. It is difficult to form an opinion on the matter because the Penguins, before they began to admire their primitive painters, destroyed all their works. We cannot be too sorry for this loss. For my own part I feel it cruelly. For I venerate the Penguin antiquities and I adore the primitives. They are delightful. I do not say they are all alike for that would be untrue, but they have common characters that are found in all schools. I mean formulas from which they never depart. And there is besides something finished in their work for what they know they know well. Luckily we can form a notion of the Penguin primitives from the Italian, Flemish and Dutch primitives and from the French primitives who are superior to all the rest. As Monsieur Gruyere tells us they are more logical, logic being a peculiarly French quality. Even if this is denied, it must at least be admitted that to France belongs the credit of having kept primitives when the other nations knew them no longer. The exhibition of French primitives at the Pavilion Marseille in 1904 contains several little panels contemporary with the later Valois Kings and with Henry IV. I have made many journeys to see the pictures of the brothers Van Eyck, of Memling, of Roger van der Weyden, of the painter of the death of Mary, of Ambrodio Lorenzetti and of the old Umbrian masters. It was however neither Bruget nor Cologne nor Siena nor Perugia that completed my initiation. It was in the little town of Arezzo that I became a conscious adept in primitive painting. That was 10 years ago or even longer. At that period of indigence and simplicity the municipal museums, though usually kept shut, were always open to foreigners. One evening an old woman with a candle showed me for half a lira the Sordid Museum of Arezzo and in it I discovered a painting by Margaretoni of St. Francis, the pious sadness of which moved me to tears. I was deeply touched and Margaretoni of Arezzo became from that day my dearest primitive. I picture to myself the penguin primitives in conformity with the works of that master. It will not therefore be thought superfluous if in this place I consider his works with some attention, if not in detail, at least under their more general and if I dare say so, most representative aspect. We possess five or six pictures signed with his hand. His masterpiece, preserved in the National Gallery of London, represents the virgin seated on a throne and holding the infant Jesus in her arms. What strikes one first when one looks at this figure is the proportion. The body from the neck to the feet is only twice as long as the head so that it appears extremely short and poggy. This work is not less remarkable for its painting than for its drawing. The great Margaretoni had but a limited number of colors in his possession and he used them in all their purity without ever modifying the tones. From this it follows that his coloring has more vivacity than harmony. The cheeks of the virgin and those of the child are of a bright vermilion which the old master from a naive preference for clear definitions has placed on each face in two circumferences as exact as if they had been traced out by a pair of compasses. A learned critic of the 18th century, the Availanzi, has treated Margaretoni's works with profound disdain. They are, he says, merely crude dobs in those unfortunate times people could neither draw nor paint. Such was the common opinion of the connoisseurs of the day of powdered wigs, but the great Margaretoni and his contemporaries were soon to be avenged for this cruel contempt. They were born in the 19th century in the biblical villages and reformed cottages of Pius England, a multitude of little Samuels and little St. John's with hair curling like lambs who, about 1840 and 1850, became spectacular professors and founded the cult of the primitives. That eminent theorist of pre-Raphaelitism, Sir James Tuckett, does not shrink from placing the Madonna of the National Gallery on a level with the masterpieces of Christian art. By giving to the virgin's head, says Sir James Tuckett, a third of the total height of the figure, the old master attracts the spectator's attention and keeps it directed towards the more sublime parts of the human figure, and in particular the eyes, which we ordinarily describe as the spiritual organs. In this picture, coloring and design conspire to a produce an ideal and mystical impression. The vermilion of the cheeks does not recall the natural appearance of the skin. It rather seems as if the old master has applied the roses of paradise to the faces of the mother and the child. We see in such a criticism as this a shining reflection, so to speak, of the work which it exalts, yet Maxilli, the seraphic asthite of Edinburgh, has expressed in a still more moving and penetrating fashion the impression produced upon his mind by the sight of this primitive painting. The Madonna of Margretone, says the revered Maxilli, attains the transcendent end of art. It inspires its beholders with feelings of innocence and purity. It mixed them like little children, and so true is this that at the age of 66, after having had the joy of contemplating it closely for three hours, I felt myself suddenly transformed into a little child. While my cab was taken me through Trafalgar Square, I kept laughing and prattling and shaking my spectacle cases if it were a rattle, and when the maid in my boredom house had served my meal, I kept pouring spoonfuls of soup into my ear with all the artlessness of childhood. It is by such results, adds Maxilli, that the excellence of a work of art is proved. Margretone, according to Vasari, died at the age of 77, regretting that he had lived to see a new form of art arising and the new artists crowned with fame. These lines, which I translate literally, have inspired Sir James Tuckett with what are perhaps the finest pages in his work. They form part of his breviary for estates. All the Pre-Raphaelites know them by heart. I place them here as the most precious ornament of this book. You will agree that nothing more sublime has been written since the days of the Hebrew prophets. Margretone's vision. Margretone, full of years and labours, went one day to visit the studio of a young painter who had lately settled in the town. He noticed in the studio a freshly painted Madonna, which, although severe and rigid, nevertheless by a certain exactness in the proportions, and a devilish mingling of light and shade, assumed an appearance of relief and life. At this site the artless and sublime worker of Arezzo perceived with horror what the future of painting would be. With his brow clasped in his hands he exclaimed, What things of shame does not this figure show forth? I discern in it the end of that Christian art which paints the soul and inspires the beholder with an ardent desire for heaven. Future painters will not restrain themselves as it does this one to portraying on the side of a wall or on a wooden panel the cursed matter of which our bodies are formed. They will celebrate and glorify it. They will clothe their figures with dangerous appearances of a flesh, and these figures will seem like real persons. Their bodies will be seen, their forms will appear through their clothing. St. Magdalene will have a bosom, St. Martha a belly, St. Barbara hips, St. Agnes botox. St. Sebastian will unveil his youthful beauty and St. George will display beneath his armor the muscular wealth of a robust virility. The apostles, the confessors, the darkators, and God the Father himself will appear as ordinary beings l