His business in Rome was to interview the Vicar-General of the
Augustinians, about a matter which concerned his convent, but he
first wished to look about him. As he went along he came to a little
church on the outer wall. In the open space in front of it a pagan
festival was being held: Bacchus was represented sitting on a
barrel, scantily clothed nymphs rode on horses, and behind them were
satyrs, fauns, Apollo, Mercury, Venus.
The monk hastened into the church to escape the sight of the
abomination. But in the sacred place he came upon another scandal.
Before the altar stood an ass with an open book before it; below the
ass stood a priest and read mass. Instead of answering "Amen," the
congregation hee-hawed like asses, and everyone laughed.
That was the classical "Asses' Festival," which had been forbidden
in the previous century, but which, during the Carnival, had been
again resumed. The monk did not understand where he was, but thought
he was in the hell of the heathen; but it was still worse when a
priest disguised as Bacchus, his face smeared with dregs of wine,
entered the pulpit, and, taking a text from Boccaccio's _Decameron_,
preached an indecent discourse, presently, with a skilful turn,
going on to narrate a legend about St. Peter. It began in a poetical
way, like other legends, but then made Peter come to an alehouse
and cheat the innkeeper about the reckoning.
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