Barlaam and Josaphat: A Christian Tale of the Buddha

by Gui de Cambrai

  Aradynes suffered when he heard his gods and his lord so strongly slandered, and it is no wonder if he was troubled. He rose furiously and looked angrily at Nachor. He wanted to offer a strong and unforgiving challenge. “Master,” he said, “it is not right to argue with us about such fundamental things. We are all angry about it. We Chaldeans speak now and later the Greeks will take their turn. It is a great endeavor to defend yourself against all of us, but there would be no need of defense if you understood the truth.”

  “You are wrong,” Nachor responded, “but your words comfort me. You speak from error, but I trust in reason. Reason will give weight to your argument, if you know how to use it, for there is great weight in reason. Whoever recognizes reason understands what is right. But now say what you wish to say, and I will respond without anger.”

  “I want you to acknowledge your arrogance,” said Aradynes. “You have attacked our beliefs and denounced water, earth, fire, wind, sun, and moon. I am surprised the king allows it. But now hear this: since they were all made to serve man, then I tell you that man himself is a god, and I will show it to you by reason. Man has dominion over everything—he holds wealth, honor, power, and nobility under his power. He is lord over many people who praise and honor him and bow before him and worship him.”

  Nachor responded wisely: “By faith, you lie and yet you speak the truth. It is true that God was born as a man—so I say to you that it is true that God is a man. But you mean it another way, so you are wrong when you say that god is a man. That is a great lie. A man is born and enjoys his youth. Then he grows old and feeble. He is sometimes sad and sometimes happy. He needs to dress himself and to eat and drink. He experiences regret and becomes envious, angry, and covetous. He is base and often corrupted. He can be wounded by swords and lances, and inevitably he will die. So it is foolish to claim that god is a man and man is a god, as the Chaldeans believe. But Christians understand this differently: God came down from heaven to take human form, and God became a man, not by mistake, but to redeem us from death. And so I tell you that because he was born in this world for our sakes, God is a man, but it cannot be true in any other sense.”

  The Chaldeans were beaten, and none responded further, for they did not dare dispute Nachor when they saw themselves so well confounded.

  The Greeks join the disputation

  Maximilian, a cleric who was very learned about the Greek’s religion, saw that the wise Chaldeans had been silenced, so he rose and addressed the king. “My lord, I do not know what to say. The Chaldeans spoke well and Barlaam refuted them. But we do not share the same religion. As I understand it, the Chaldeans worship all the elements, and it is fitting that they do so. But this devil leads us astray. Let him now ready his tongue to meet our challenge.

  “We have gods and we know that they are gods. Our gods have proven themselves worthy, for they come to the aid of all those who pray to them for mercy. I will speak the truth about Saturn, who is one of our gods.1 He is worthy of great honor, for his deity is great. He is the lord of the elements. He is the god who first formed all the firmament, and he made all people. In his first book, Ovid tells us that Saturn commanded the world to be created, and for this reason everything exists according to his design.”

  “Listen, King, to how senseless this religion is,” Nachor said. “The Greeks believe foolish things, and they make gods from twin images, some male, some female. Their belief is greatly impoverished and they do not know what they say. Now they make a god of Saturn! Certainly he is no god, for Jupiter, his son, killed him, as Ovid tells us. He cast his father into hell and conquered the sky, to become its lord and commander. And he threw the good members of his father into the deep sea. There Venus, the goddess of love, was conceived in a wave, and then there was no longer night or day. Woe to him who would recount this story as if it were true and have us believe it! It is nothing but an invented fable, and those who would have us believe it are servants of the devil.”

  At these words Mandran rose, grieved by what he heard. “What?” he asked. “What do you mean? That Jupiter is not lord of the gods with power over the heavens? What Ovid recounted is true, for we find it in holy books, and Ovid was a wise man who spoke only the truth. You will not dare to attack Jupiter! He changes into many forms, and we should serve him. He acts as he pleases and he is an exalted and powerful god. He is so wise and valiant that no one can oppose him without abasing himself. I do not think you will dare to confront him, for even if you only appeared to slander him, he would take a cruel vengeance. I warn you to say nothing against him. You would not be able to oppose him unless you used some trick or ruse.”

  Nachor laughed. “Friend,” he asked, “have you lost your mind? You speak like a madman. You say that Jupiter is a god—he who bound his father hand and foot and put him in hell? And that is the least of it: this Jupiter of whom you speak was conceived in adultery. Ha! What a learned claim! Woe to anyone who makes a god of one engendered from adultery.

  “I will tell you who he was. I have learned that he was disloyal and lascivious, and he did many evil deeds. Jupiter used magic to take many different forms, and he took after his father in that he committed adultery many times. He took the form of a bull for the daughter of King Agenor. Europa was the girl’s name, and she was comely and beautiful. One day she was by herself in a meadow, a short distance from the city, when Jupiter came galloping toward her in the form of a bull. She welcomed him and made him a crown of flowers. She did not suspect any tricks, but Jupiter betrayed her. When she sat on his back, he galloped away with her beyond the sea to a place where her royal father had no power. There he took her virginity. The news spread through the country that Europa had been lost. When Agenor heard it, he sent his son Cadmus away until he could return with his daughter. Cadmus was then banished, for he would never find her. The story recounts that he left his father’s country and when he did not find Europa and did not know where else to seek her, he built Thebes. Since Cadmus could not find his sister, he stayed there. His father and mother mourned their son and lamented their misfortune—King Agenor had lost his son along with his daughter, and he claimed that he was cursed, since from one harm he had made two.

  “That time, your god changed into a bull,” Nachor continued. “Another time he made himself into gold to trick Danaë, but she did not perceive the deception until he had betrayed her. For another lover, Leda, he changed into a swan. It is not reasonable to think he is divine, for this is not good or fitting behavior for a god. Another time he changed into a satyr for Antiope, and into lightning for Semele. Jupiter was a deranged and licentious man, and he had many children with these women. One was called Liber, a second Zethus, and other children were Hercules and Apollo, Artemis and Amphion, and Perseus and Castor and Helen and Pollux, and Sarpedon and Rhadamanthus. Minos too was one of his offspring. These are his sons—he also had nine daughters. Only a foolish devil-god would engender so many children. On the other hand—King, do you not know this?—he was a great sodomite and had with him a sweet young man called Ganymede.”

  (What worthy acts from these filthy and heretical gods, when they make a female from the male! I will speak of such acts briefly, for I want to condemn them here.2

  You who denature nature by breaking her laws, listen a little to this. May God never have mercy on you as long as you practice such unnatural sin! Ah, shameful sodomites! You play a shameful game when you pervert the chessboard and allow yourselves to be mated from the corner—to mate in the right way is much better.3 You will never share God’s joy as long as you allow yourselves to be mated in this way. Whoever would admonish you should speak harshly of such acts. But for all this, you do not stop. Whoever lets himself be mated without a queen goes against nature, and it is much to be lamented when the chessboard is sullied by such a disloyal stain.

  Whoever deliberately spreads his seed where it will not grow disobeys nature, and may God allow you to perish, perverse Romans and F
renchmen. The evil game came from the Greeks and now it has entered Champagne and thrives in France. The clerics were first to adopt it, and they taught the game to knights. The deed is base—anyone who would leave the clearing for the woods is like a foolish peasant. Indeed, the act is so vile and nasty that even to speak of it is evil, and so I will leave off here and return to the story and to Nachor, who responded so well to the Greeks that he confounded them. He described Jupiter truthfully when he said that he was full of trickery, and that he was an adulterer and a sodomite, an enchanter and a heretic.)

  “King,” said Nachor, “listen to me. These Greeks make an adulterer their god. They have a base religion and are deluded, for what they say cannot be true. They all believe in bad gods. Whoever can refute them should respond harshly. They do not know anything about God, and what they think of as divine is just trickery. They should keep quiet about Jupiter, for he was an evil character. They should abandon their gods and their beliefs, for there is no truth in them.”

  Archemorus rose and spoke loudly. He could not hide his anger when he heard his gods slandered. He was distressed by Nachor’s characterization of Jupiter as an indolent and licentious adulterer. He did not know how to defend his gods except by making a good argument: “You would not deny that we should worship Vulcan as a god, for he is most powerful. He is the best and most valiant smith in the world and he should not be denied.”

  Nachor was alarmed by Archemorus’s claim: he made a god from a blacksmith! “King,” said Nachor, “he who makes Vulcan his god would deceive us. Vulcan was a blacksmith, and he forged to earn his livelihood. I have never heard of a god so poor that he had to use his skill to gain food and shelter. This is mistaken belief.”

  Ebruaceus rose, aggrieved by Nachor’s words. “If Vulcan cannot be a god,” he argued, “we must seek others. Master, can Mercury not be a god? He has done many wonders. I advise you to consider whether he could be a god.”

  “Surely I have not understood you,” Nachor responded. “Mercury was an evil fortune teller and a covetous thief. Such a being cannot be a god, and it is shameful to believe that he is divine.”

  Sergestus rose and asked, “Is Aesculapius not a good god?”

  Nachor responded, “No, good friend. He knew how to make potions and poultices and other things. But you are foolish to argue that a doctor should be a god—that is perverse and contrary to reason. In the end Jupiter killed him with a bolt of lightning because he had wrongly killed the son of Darius of Lacedaemon. If this Aesculapius were a god, he would have saved himself, but he could not. Thus I dare to judge that only a fool would make him a god.”

  Narradien stood. He hated Nachor and grew angry when he heard him speak: “I hear you say many false things, but you will not deny that it is right to sacrifice to Mars and honor him as a god of war. We hold him as our lord.”

  Nachor responded, “It would never occur to me that Mars could be considered a god. Oh Lord! What a god we would have in him! He is a sheep eater and took a licentious old goddess named Venus as his lover.4 Vulcan, your god there in the heavens, was also her lover, and he discovered her with his friend Mars and chained them together. Only a foolish god could be caught in such shame. And if he was so talented in war, why did he not save himself from Vulcan who bound and shamed him?

  “Do not continue to stand and name others, for I will say more about your gods than you can, if you will hear me. You make Bacchus divine, and you say that he is the lord of wine because he drank a lot and seduced other men’s wives. He was drunk every night, for drinking was his greatest pleasure, and in the end he was killed.” (What will they do, those who drink wine and become drunk and then lie about it when they are accused? I put the blame on others, but I am at greater fault than any from here to Salerno, for I do business in taverns just like Bacchus, whom Nachor considered base and showed to be a wanton drunkard, not a god.)5

  Nachor also spoke of Hercules, greatly esteemed by the Greeks, and said that by reason no one should think he was a god. “He was as licentious as the others I have described. He was also very cruel. He killed his wife and sons, the story tells us, and in the end he was burned in a fire. Only a foolish and base god would allow himself to be burned.

  “I will also tell you the truth about Apollo. He was a minstrel and a good hunter. He spoke to people and told fortunes to earn his wealth. I do not know what to say of a god who sells his tricks. Diana—who was his sister, I will tell you the truth about her—was considered a goddess by the Greeks because she was a great hunter, and she liked to train hunting dogs. She loved the woods and rivers and knew them well. King, you can judge whether such a goddess should be venerated.

  “These gods should be forgotten. No one can say why such people should be made into gods, and there is a great misunderstanding here. The Greeks scorn God and his love because of their false beliefs, but no man should doubt him, for he is Lord and God.”

  Another of the Greeks stood to challenge Nachor. “You have insulted our gods, but you do not know what you say when you abase them. You say that Diana is nothing but a huntress, but what would you say about the goddess Venus? Show me here, before the king, if you have found any fault in her, for she is worthy of great devotion.”

  Nachor responded, “Friend, here, before the king and his people, I will tell you who Venus is. I will not say more or less than this: she was a disloyal wanton woman, and she did many evil things in this world. And she took too many debauched men as lovers: Mars, Vulcan, Adonis, and also Anchises.”

  This Anchises was the father of Aeneas, who was a lord of the land and lived happily in his house outside Troy.6 Dares Phrygius tells us that Aeneas betrayed his lord, King Priam, who had given him great honors. Now I will tell you the story truly, for Virgil, who also tells it, wrongly excuses Aeneas for everything. Dares accused him of betrayal, and he was at the siege of Troy and knew the truth of the story.7 Do not hold it against me, my lords, if I stray a little from the story, for I need to abridge it to show the truth—it would be too long if I recounted the whole siege of Troy and, by your leave, I will recount it here in a few words.

  A great army was mustered because Helen had been kidnapped, and the Greeks assembled from all parts: kings, dukes, princes, and counts—all came together to avenge their shame. They camped before Troy and besieged the city from all sides. Those inside the city sent for help, and knights came from every land. Great and worthy men besieged Troy. Noble Hector, the greatest of all knights, was killed there. He was well matched—noble Achilles killed him, as the story tells us. Achilles took vengeance on Hector because he had killed his companion Patroclus. Later Achilles regretted it, when he was killed because he took Polyxena as his lover. Her brother Paris spied on Achilles at the temple, then killed him there. Polyxena did not know about it, but vengeance for Achilles’s death turned against her. Dares recounts that Pyrrhus, Achilles’s son, tortured her and dragged her naked through the city by her hair. Pyrrhus acted ruthlessly to avenge his father, and the wretched, innocent maiden paid the price. And Aeneas, who accused her of the betrayal and delivered her to Pyrrhus, betrayed Troy shamefully. Not a king or count was spared death. This is what Dares tells us truthfully. He says, if I am not mistaken, that Troy burned for three days, and that Aeneas betrayed the city and fled as soon as he could. The story tells us that his wife was burned and died there. When he saw the city was on fire, he went to the boats that he had provisioned. He put to sea and good winds took him to port in Crete. From Crete he went to Carthage. If the story does not lie, Dido was queen there, and she loved Aeneas greatly. Aeneas told her everything about the siege of Troy and its burning, but he lied about the end. He recounted the destruction, but he hid his treason. He remained with Dido for a long time. Then he had to leave her, and when he no longer wanted to stay with her, she killed herself for his love. He crossed the sea with a great force and arrived in Lombardy, in the land of King Latinus.

  At firs
t his arrival caused fear among the people, but later he became lord of the land and led it in many wars. Before that, the king’s daughter Lavinia became queen, and Aeneas won her in battle against Turnus. He married the beautiful young woman and gained her rich land. Aeneas had a greatly renowned son called Ascanius, and Romulus, founder of Rome, and Remus, founder of Rheims, were from Aeneas’s lineage. They were brothers, but Romulus became emperor.

  Their descendants included Brutus, who freed Corineus and Locrinus from slavery in Greece. He brought them along with a great company into the land of Aquitaine. Turnus was killed there, along with his people, I believe. They founded a great city and named it Tours in honor of Turnus. Then they left and passed through Neustria. (They conquered Neustria, which we now call Normandy.) They crossed the sea in great numbers, and when they came to port they conquered England after a long and arduous war. At that time the land was unclaimed and Brutus called it Britannia. He had London built to restore Troy, and they said that the city was built to resemble Troy. Corineus chose a part of the land and gave his name to it, and accordingly they named it Cornwall. Locrinus was on the other side of the country, and by right he named his land Logres. The land was divided, and Brutus was its overlord; as its emperor and king he made laws and established customs.8

  This is what the Trojans did, but no matter who claims that Aeneas was a faithful man, I maintain that he was disloyal and that he caused the betrayal and destruction of Troy. Everyone in the country came from his lineage—the foolish and the wise, kings, dukes, princes, and counts—and Virgil hid his shame. This is what these people did and how they ended their days. Aeneas was the son of Venus and Anchises. Now there is nothing more to say, and I will return to the story.

  Nachor concludes his refutation of the pagans