THE SCENE: One of the ways that the Catholic Church made money in the medieval era was through the sale of Papal Indulgences – trinkets which granted some salvation to those who were willing to pay for them. The practice was highly controversial. In this passage, we see the length to which one seller of Indulgences (aka a Commissary) goes to convince a town to buy them.
THE TEXT: My fifth master chanced to be a man engaged in the sale of papal Indulgences. He was the most shameless and impudent distributor of them that ever I saw or hope to see, nor do I believe that anyone else ever saw one like him. When the people did not buy the Indulgences freely, he sought how to make them do so by bringing trouble on their village. He had preached for two or three days in a village near Toledo, using all his accustomed arts, but no one had bought an Indulgence, nor was there any sign of an intention to do so. He had devoted them all to the Devil, and was meditating what to do next, when he determined to call the parishioners together the next morning and make a last effort.
When morning came my master went to the church to arrange about the Mass, and about preaching the sermon to announce the Indulgences. The people assembled, but they came murmuring at the Indulgences, saying that they were false. The Seller of Indulgences went up into the pulpit, and began his sermon by urging the people not to fail in getting the benefit of such a blessing and such Indulgences as the sacred Bull brought them. When he was in the middle of his sermon the constable entered by the door of the church, and when he had said a prayer, ho got up and addressed the people in a loud voice. “Good people,” he said, “hear one word from me, and then listen to any one you like. I plainly declare to you that the Indulgences he is preaching about are false and that you should not believe in them nor buy them.” Then he concluded his speech.
The commissary then knelt down in the pulpit, clasped his hands, turned his eyes up, and said: “O Lord from whom nothing is hidden, and to whom all things are known, to whom nothing is impossible but all things are possible, Thou knowest the truth and how unjustly I have been accused. Look not at this man who knows not what he does or says. I only pray for justice. So I pray to Thee, O Lord, that Thou wilt work a miracle in this way. If what my accuser says is true, that I am evil and false, let this pulpit sink from me forty feet under the ground, and never appear again. But if what I say is true, and that man is persuaded by the Devil to try to deprive those present of such great benefits, let him be punished, that all may know his malice.”
Scarcely had my devout master finished his speech when the bad constable fell to the ground with such a noise that the church resounded. Then he began to groan and foam at the mouth, making hideous faces, throwing about his arms and legs, and rolling about on the ground. All this time my master was on his knees in the pulpit, with hands and eyes raised to heaven, transported by the divine essence. Some good men came to him, and, speaking loudly to arouse him, entreated him to succour that por creature who was dying. The commissary, like one awaking from a delicious dream, looking long at the culprit and at those around him, then said: “My good friends, you have interceded for a man on whom God has so signally laid his Hands. Let us all pray.” My master raised his hands to heaven, and turned his eyes up until scarcely anything could be seen but the whites. He prayed to the Lord not to require the death of the sinner, but rather to give his life back.
Presently, the sinful constable began gradually to recover until he was himself again. When he was well, he fell at the feet of the commissary asking for pardon. Then there was such eagerness to buy the Indulgences that scarcely a soul in the place was without one — husbands and wives, sons and daughters, boys and girls. The news of what had happened soon spread to the neighbouring villages, and when we came to them it was not necessary to preach nor even to go to church. In ten or twelve villages of that neighbourhood where we were, my master sold as many thousand Indulgences, without having to preach a single sermon.
But afterwards I was a witness to the jokes and laughter that the commissary and the constable had over the business. I knew how it had been planned and arranged by the industry and inventive talent of my master. Though only a boy I fell into thought, and said to myself, “How many more tricks will the rogues play on these innocent people!”
– The Life of Lazarillo de Tormes, 16th Century AD
