§ I.

A poor gentleman of the province of Hagenau, cultivated his small estate, and St. Ragonda, or Radegonda, was the patron of his parish.

Now it happened, on the feast of St. Ragonda, that it was necessary to do something to this poor gentleman’s field, without which great loss would be incurred. The master, with all his family, after having devoutly assisted at mass, went to cultivate his land, on which depended the subsistence of his family, while the rector and the other parishioners went to tipple as usual.

The rector, while enjoying his glass, was informed of the enormous offence committed in his parish by this profane laborer, and went, burning with wine and anger, to seek the cultivator. “Sir, you are very insolent and very impious to dare to cultivate your field, instead of going to the tavern like other people.” “I agree, sir,” replied the gentleman, “that it is necessary to drink to the honor of the saint; but it is also necessary to eat, and my family would die of hunger if I did not labor.” “Drink and die, then,” said the vicar. “In what law, in what book is it so written?” said the laborer. “In Ovid,” replied the vicar. “I think you are mistaken,” said the gentleman; “in what part of Ovid have you read that I should go to the tavern rather than cultivate my field on St. Ragonda’s day?”

It should be remarked that both the gentleman and the pastor were well educated men. “Read the metamorphoses of the daughters of Minyas,” said the vicar. “I have read it,” replied the other, “and I maintain that they have no relation to my plough.” “How, impious man! do you not remember that the daughters of Minyas were changed into bats for having spun on a feast day?” “The case is very different,” replied the gentleman, “these ladies had not rendered any homage to Bacchus. I have been at the mass of St. Ragonda, you can have nothing to say to me; you cannot change me into a bat.” “I will do worse,” said the priest, “I will fine you.” He did so. The poor gentleman was ruined: he quitted the country with his family — went into a strange one — became a Lutheran — and his ground remained uncultivated for several years.

This affair was related to a magistrate of good sense and much piety. These are the reflections which he made upon it:

“They were no doubt innkeepers,” said he, “that invented this prodigious number of feasts; the religion of peasants and artisans consists in getting tipsy on the day of a saint, whom they only know by this kind of worship. It is on these days of idleness and debauchery that all crimes are committed; it is these feasts which fill the prisons, and which support the police officers, registers, lieutenants of police, and hangmen; the only excuse for feast-days among us. From this cause Catholic countries are scarcely cultivated at all; whilst heretics, by daily cultivating their lands, produce abundant crops.”

It is all very well that the shoemakers should go in the morning to mass on St. Crispin’s day, because crepido signifies the upper leather of a shoe; that the brush-makers should honor St. Barbara their patron; that those who have weak eyes should hear the mass of St. Clara: that St. — should be celebrated in many provinces; but after having paid their devoirs to the saints they should become serviceable to men, they should go from the altar to the plough; it is the excess of barbarity, and insupportable slavery, to consecrate our days to idleness and vice. Priests, command, if it be necessary that the saints Roche, Eustace, and Fiacre, be prayed to in the morning; but, magistrates, order your fields to be cultivated as usual. It is labor that is necessary; the greater the industry the more the day is sanctified.
§ II.
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