THE SIXT NOVELL

 

        DECLARING, THAT IN FEW, DISCREETE, AND WELL PLACED WORDS,

      THE COVERED CRAFT OF CHURCH-MEN MAY BEE JUSTLY REPROVED, AND

                  THEIR HYPOCRISIE HONESTLY DISCOVERED

 

  An honest plaine meaning man, (simply and conscionably)

reprehended the malignity, hypocrisie, and misdemeanour of many

Religious persons.

 

  Madam Aemilia sitting next to the gentle Lady Fiammetta,

perceiving the modest chastisement, which the vertuous Lady

Marquesse had given to the King of France, was generally graced by the

whole Assembly; began (after the Queene had thereto appointed her)

in these words. Nor will I conceale the deserved reprehension, which

an honest simple lay-man, gave to a covetous holy Father, in very

few words; yet more to be commended, then derided.

  Not long since (worthy Ladies) there dwelt in our owne native

City, a Friar Minor, an Inquisitor after matters of Faith; who,

although he laboured greatly to seeme a sanctified man, and an earnest

affecter of Christian Religion, (as all of them appeare to be in

outward shew;) yet he was a much better Inquisitor after them that had

their purses plenteously stored with money, then of such as were

slenderly grounded in Faith. By which diligent continued care in

him, he found out a man, more rich in purse, then understanding; and

yet not so defective in matters of faith, as misguided by his owne

simple speaking, and (perhaps) when his braine was well warmed with

wine, words fell more foolishly from him, then in better judgement

they could have done.

  Being on a day in company, (very little differing in quality from

him selfe) he chanced to say; that he had beene at such good wine,

as God himselfe did never drinke better. Which words (by some

Sicophant then in presence) being carried to this curious

Inquisitor, and he well knowing, that the mans faculties were great,

and his bagges swolne up full with no meane abundance: Cum gladijs

et fustibus; With Booke, Bell, and Candle, he raysed an hoast of

execrations against him, and the Sumner cited him with a solemne

Processe to appeare before him, understanding sufficiently, that

this course would sooner fetch money from him, then amend any

misbeliefe in the man; for no further reformation did he seeke after.

  The man comming before him, hee demanded, if the accusation

intimated against him, was true or no? Whereto the honest man

answered, that he could not denie the speaking of such words, and

declared in what manner they were uttered. Presently the Inquisitor,

most devoutly addicted to Saint John with the golden beard, saide;

What? Doest thou make our Lord a drinker, and a curious quaffer of

wines, as if he were a glutton, a belly-god, or a Taverne haunter,

as thou, and other drunkards are. Being an hypocrite, as thou art,

thou thinkest this to be but a light matter, because it may seeme so

in thine owne opinion: but I tell thee plainely, that it deserveth

fire and faggot, if I should proceede in justice to inflict it on

thee: with these, and other such like threatning words, as also a very

stearne and angry countenance, he made the man beleeve himselfe to

be an Epicure, and that hee denied the eternity of the soule;

whereby he fell into such a trembling feare, as doubting indeede,

least he should be burned; that, to be more mercifully dealt withal,

he rounded him in the eare, and by secret meanes, so annointed his

hands with Saint Johns golden grease (a verie singular remedie against

the Disease Pestilentiall in covetous Priests, especially Friars

Minors, that dare touch no money) as the case became very quickly

altered.

  This soveraigne Unction was of such vertue (though Galen speakes not

a word thereof among all his cheefest Medicines) and so farre

prevailed, that the terrible threatning words of fire and faggot,

became meerly frozen up, and gracious language blew a more gentle

and calmer ayre; the Inquisitor delivering him an hallowed

Crucifixe, creating him a Soldier of the Crosse (because he had

payed Crosses good store for it,) and even as if he were to travell

under that Standard to the holy Land; so did hee appoint him a

home-paying pennance, namely, to visit him thrice every weeke in his

Chamber, and to annoint his hands with the selfe-same yellow

unguent, and afterward, to heare Masse of the holy Crosse, visiting

him also at dinner time, which being ended, to do nothing all the rest

of the day, but according as he directed him.

  The simple man, yet not so simple, but seeing that this weekely

greazing the Inquisitors hands, would in time graspe away all his

gold, grew weary of this annointing, and began to consider with

himselfe, how to stay the course of this chargeable penance. And

comming one morning (according to his injunction) to heare Masse, in

the Gospell he observed these words; You shall receive an hundred

for one, and so possesse eternall life; which saying, he kept

perfectly in his memory: and as he was commanded, at dinner time, he

came to the Inquisitor, finding him (among his fellowes) seated at the

Table. The Inquisitor presently demaunded of him, whether he had heard

Masse that morning, or no? Yes Sir, replyed the man very readily. Hast

thou heard any thing therein (quoth the Inquisitor) whereof thou art

doubtfull, or desirst to be further informed? Surely Sir, answered the

plaine-meaning man, I make no doubt of any thing I have heard, but

do beleeve all constantly: onely one thing troubleth me much, and

maketh me very compassionate of you, and of all these holy Fathers

your brethren, perceiving in what wofull and wretched estate you

will be, when you shall come into another world. What words are these,

quoth the Inquisitor? And why art thou moved to such compassion of us?

O good Sir, saide the man, do you remember the wordes in the Gospell

this morning, You shall receive an hundred for one? That is verie true

replyed the Inquisitor, but what mooveth thee to urge those words?

 I will tell you Sir, answered the plain fellow, so it might please

you not to be offended. Since the time of my resorting hither, I

have daily seene many poore people at your doore, and (out of your

abundance) when you and your Brethren have fed sufficiently, every one

hath had a good messe of Pottage: now Sir, if for every dishfull

given, you are sure to receive an hundred againe, you will all be

meerely drowned in pottage. Although the rest (sitting at the Table

with the Inquisitor) laughed heartily at this jest; yet he found

himselfe toucht in another nature, having hypocritically received for

one poore offence, above three hundred peeces of Gold, and not a mite

to be restored againe. But fearing to be further disclosed, yet

threatning him with another Processe in law, for abusing the words of

the Gospel, he was content to dismisse him for altogither, without

any more golden greasing in the hand.

                    THE FIRST DAY, THE SEVENTH NOVELL

 

      APPROVING, THAT IT IS MUCH UNFITTING FOR A PRINCE, OR GREAT

         PERSON, TO BEE COVETOUS; BUT RATHER TO BE LIBERALL TO

                               ALL MEN

 

  Bergamino, by telling a tale of a skilfull man, named Primasso,

and of an Abbot of Clugni; honestly checked a new kinde of

Covetousnesse, in Mayster Can de la Scala.

 

  The courteous demeanor of Madam Aemilia, and the quaintnesse of

her discourse, caused both the Queene, and the rest of the company, to

commend the invention of carrying the Crosse, and the golden

oyntment appointed for pennance. Afterward, Philostratus, who was in

order to speake next, began in this manner.

  It is a commendable thing (faire Ladies) to hit a But that never

stirreth out of his place: but it is a matter much more admirable,

to see a thing suddainely appearing, and sildome or never frequented

before, to bee as suddenly hit by an ordinary Archer. The vicious

and polluted lives of Priests, yeeldeth matter of it selfe in many

things, deserving speech and reprehension, as a true But of wickednes,

and well worthy to be sharply shot at. And therefore, though that

honest meaning man did wisely, in touching Master Inquisitor to the

quicke, with the hypocriticall charity of Monkes and Friars, in giving

such things to the poore, as were more meete for Swine, or to be worse

throwne away, yet I hold him more to be commended, who (by occasion of

a former tale, and which I purpose to relate) pleasantly reprooved

Master Can de la Scala, a Magnifico and mighty Lord, for a sudden

and unaccustomed covetousnesse appearing in him, figuring by other

men, that which hee intended to say of him, in manner following.

  Master Can de la Scala, as fame ranne abroad of him in all places,

was (beyond the infinite favours of Fortune towards him) one of the

most notable and magnificent Lords that ever lived in Italy, since the

daies of Fredericke the second, Emperor. He determining to procure a

very solemne assembly at Verona, and many people being met there

from divers places, especially Gentlemen of all degrees; suddenly

(upon what occasion I know not) his minde altred, and hee would not

goe forward with his intention. Most of them he partly recompenced

which were come thither, and they dismissed to depart at their

pleasure, one onely man remained unrespected, or in any kinde sort

sent away, whose name was Bergamino, a man very pleasantly disposed,

and so wittily readie in speaking and answering, as none could

easily credit it, but such as heard him; and although his recompence

seemed over-long delayed, yet hee made no doubt of a beneficiall

ending.

  By some enemies of his, Master Can de la Scala was incensed, that

whatsoever he gave or bestowed on him, was as ill imployed and utterly

lost, as if it were throwne into the fire, and therefore he neither

did or spake any thing to him. Some few dayes being passed over, and

Bergamino perceiving, that hee was neither called, nor any account

made of, notwithstanding many manly good parts in him; observing

beside, that hee found a shrewd consumption in his purse, his Inne,

horses, and servants, being chargeable to him, he began to grow

extremely melancholly, and yet hee attended in expectation day by day,

as thinking it farre unfitting for him, to depart before he was bidden

farewell.

  Having brought with him thither three goodly rich garments, which

had beene given him by sundrie Lords, for his more sightly

appearance at this great meeting; the importunate Host being greedie

of payment, first he delivered him one of them, and yet not halfe

the score being wiped off, the second must needes follow; and

beside, except he meant to leave his lodging, hee must live upon the

third so long as it would last, till hee saw what end his hopes

would sort too. It fortuned, during the time of living thus upon his

last refuge, that hee met with Maister Can one day at dinner, where he

presented himselfe before him, with a discontented countenance:

which Maister Can well observing, more to distaste him, then take

delight in any thing that could come from him, he sayd. Bergamino, how

cheerest thou? Thou art very melancholly, I prythee tell us why?

Bergamino suddenly, without any premeditation, yet seeming as if he

had long considered thereon, reported this Tale.

  Sir, I have heard of a certaine man, named Primasso, one skilfully

learned in the Grammar, and (beyond all other) a very witty and

ready versifier: in regard whereof, he was so much admired, and

farre renowned, that such as never saw him, but onely heard of him,

could easily say, this is Primasso. It came to passe, that being

once at Paris, in poore estate, as commonly he could light on no

better fortune (because vertue is slenderly rewarded, by such as

have the greatest possessions) he heard much fame of the Abbot of

Clugni, a man reputed (next to the Pope) to be the richest Prelate

of the Church. Of him he heard wonderfull and magnificent matters,

that he alwayes kept an open and hospitable Court, and never made

refusall of any (from whence soever hee came or went) but they did

eate and drinke freely there; provided, that they came when the

Abbot was set at the Table. Primasso hearing this, and being an

earnest desirer to see magnificent and vertuous men, hee resolved to

goe see this rare bounty of the Abbot, demanding how far he dwelt from

Paris? Being answered, about some three Leagues thence. Primasso

made account, that if he went on betimes in the morning, he should

easily reach thither before the houre for dinner.

  Being instructed in the way, and not finding any to walke along with

him; fearing, if he went without some furnishment, and should stay

long there for his dinner, he might (perhaps) complaine of hunger:

he therefore carried three loaves of bread with him, knowing that he

could meet with water every where, albeit he used to drinke but

little. Having aptly conveyed his bread about him, he went on his

journy, and arrived at the Lord Abbots Court, an indifferent while

before dinner time: wherefore entering into the great Hall, and so

from place to place, beholding the great multitude of Tables,

bountifull preparation in the Kitchin, and what admirable provision

there was for dinner, he said to himselfe; Truly this man is more

magnificent then fame hath made him, because shee speakes too

sparingly of him.

  While thus he went about, considering on all these things very

respectively, he saw the Maister of the Abbots Houshold (because

then it was the houre of dinner) command water to be brought for

washing hands, so everie one sitting down at the Tatle, it fell to the

lot of Primasso, to sit directly against the doore, whereat the

Abbot must enter into the Hall. The custome in this Court was such,

that no manner of Foode should be served to any of the Table, untill

such time as the Lord Abbot was himselfe set: whereupon, every thing

being fit and ready, the Master of the Houshold went to tell his Lord,

that nothing now wanted but his onely presence.

  The Abbot comming from his Chamber to enter the Hall, looking

about him, as hee was wont to doe; the first man hee saw was Primasso,

who being but in homely habite, and he having not seene him before

to his remembrance, a present bad conceite possessed his braine,

that he never saw an unworthier person, saying within himselfe: See

how I give my goods away to bee devoured. So returning backe to his

Chamber againe; commaunded the doore to be made fast, demaunding of

every man neere about him, if they knew the base Knave that sate

before his entrance into the Hall, and all his servants answered no.

Primasso being extreamely hungry, with travailing on foote so farre,

and never used to fast so long; expecting still when meate would be

served in, and that the Abbot came not at all: drew out one of his

loaves which hee brought with him, and very heartily fell to feeding.

  My Lord Abbot, after hee had stayed within an indifferent while,

sent forth one of his men, to see if the poore fellow was gone, or no.

The servant told him, that he stayed there, and fed upon dry bread,

which it seemed he had brought thither with him. Let him feede on

his owne (replyed the Abbot) for he shall taste of none of mine this

day. Gladly wold the Abbot, that Primasso should have gone thence of

himselfe, and yet held it scarsely honest in his Lordship, to dismisse

him by his owne command. Primasso having eaten one of his Loaves,

and yet the Abbot was not come; began to feede upon the second: the

Abbot still sending to expect his absence, and answered as he was

before. At length, the Abbot not comming, and Primasso having eaten up

his second loafe, hunger compeld him to begin with the third.

  When these newes were carried to the Abbot, sodainly he brake

forth and saide. What new kinde of needy tricke hath my braine begotte

this day? Why do I grow disdainfull against any man whatsoever? I have

long time allowed my meate to be eaten by all commers that did

please to visit me, without exception against any person, Gentleman,

Yeoman, poore or rich, Marchant or Minstrill, honest man or knave,

never refraining my presence in the Hall, by basely contemning one

poore man. Beleeve me, covetousnesse of one mans meate, doth ill agree

with mine estate and calling. What though he appeareth a wretched

fellow to me? He may be of greater merit then I can imagine, and

deserve more honor then I am able to give him.

  Having thus discoursed with himselfe, he would needs understand of

whence, and what he was, and finding him to be Primasso, come onely to

see the magnificence which he had reported of him, knowing also (by

the generall fame noysed every where of him) that he was reputed to be

a learned, honest, and ingenious man: he grew greatly ashamed of his

owne folly, and being desirous to make him an amends, strove many

waies how to do him honor. When dinner was ended, the Abbot bestowed

honorable garments on him, such as beseemed his degree and merit,

and putting good store of money in his purse, as also giving him a

good horse to ride on, left it at his owne free election, whether he

would stay there still with him, or depart at his pleasure.

Wherewith Primasso being highly contented, yeelding him the

heartiest thankes he could devise to do, returned to Paris on

horse-backe, albeit he came poorely thether on foot.

  Master Can de la Scala, who was a man of good understanding,

perceived immediately (without any further interpretation) what

Bergamino meant by this morall, and smiling on him, saide:

Bergamino, thou hast honestly expressed thy vertue and necessities,

and justly reprooved mine avarice, niggardnesse, and base folly. And

trust me Bergamino, I never felt such a fit of covetousnesse come upon

me, as this which I have dishonestly declared to thee: and which I

will now banish from me, with the same correction as thou hast

taught mee. So, having payed the Host all his charges, redeeming

also his robes or garments, mounting him on a good Gelding, and

putting plenty of Crownes in his purse, he referd it to his owne

choise to depart, or dwell there still with him.