The Heptameron (Machen)/Novel 34

There is a village betwixt Nyort and Fors named Grip, the which appertains to the manor of Fors. And it fell out that one day two Grey Friars, journeying from Nyort, came very late to this place Grip and lodged in the house of a butcher. And since between their room and that of their host there were but boards badly joined, they became desirous of hearing the discourse of the husband and wife in bed together, setting their ears to the boards that were nearest to the bed. And the husband having no suspicion of his guests talked with his wife upon the privy concernments of their household. "Sweetheart," said he, "I must needs rise early on the morrow that I may go see our Grey Friars, for one of them is a mighty fat fellow. Him we will kill, and if we salt him forthwith he will greatly profit us." And though his discourse was on his pigs, which he called Grey Friars, yet the two poor brethren, who heard this awful doom, were well persuaded that it was for them, and in fear and trembling waited the dawn of day. Now the one of them was exceeding fat, and the other somewhat lean. And the fat friar was fain to make his confession to his fellow, for, as he said, the rogue butcher, having ceased to walk in the fear and love of God, would make no more ado of ​slaughtering them than an ox or any other animal. And seeing that they were shut up in their room, and were not able to get out unless they passed through that of their host, they should hold themselves as dead men, and commend their souls to God. But the young friar, who was not so overcome with fear as was his fellow, said that since the door was shut on them, they must essay a passage through the window, and at the worst they could meet with nothing more grievous than death. To this the fat friar agreed. The young one opened the window, and seeing that it was not too far from the ground, leapt down and fled away without so much as waiting for his companion. And he likewise essayed this hazardous jump, but in place of leaping fell so heavily, by reason of his weight, that he was sorely hurt in one of his legs and could not stir from the ground.

And seeing himself to be abandoned by his fellow, and not able to follow him, he looked all around for a hiding place, and saw nothing better than the pigstye, whither he crawled as well as might be. And as he opened the door to hide himself within, out rushed two monstrous pigs, in whose place the poor friar bestowed himself, hoping that, when he heard the noise of folk passing by, he could call out and be succoured. But so soon as the morning was come the butcher made ready his mightiest knives, and would have his wife bear him company while he went to kill his fat pig. And when he came to the stye, where the friar had hidden himself, he began to bellow at the top of his voice as he opened the little door: "Come out! come out! master Grey Friar, for it is my fixed intent this very day to taste your chitterlings!" The poor friar, not being able to stand on his legs, crawled out of the stye on his hands and knees, crying as loud as he was able for mercy. But if the friar was in great terror, the butcher and his wife were in no less, for they thought that St. Francis was wrathful with them because they called a beast a Grey Friar, and so fell on their knees before the poor man, asking forgiveness of St. Francis and all his whole order. So on one side was the friar imploring mercy of the butcher, and on the other the butcher craving forgiveness of the friar, in such sort that it was a full quarter of an hour before they were assured of one another At last the good father, understanding the butcher wished him no harm, declared wherefore he had hidden himself in the stye, ​at which their fear was forthwith converted to laughter, save for the poor Grey Friar, whose leg was too sore to let him make merry. But the butcher took him into his house and entreated him mighty well. As to his fellow, who had left him in his necessity, he had run all night and about the hour of prime came to the manor-house of the lord of Fors. Here he made complaint of the butcher, whom he suspected had killed his companion, since he had not followed after him. The lord of Fors sent forthwith to Grips to know the truth of the matter, which being found out was by no means judged an occasion for weeping. And the lord of Fors told it to his mistress, the Duchess of Angoulême, mother of King Francis I.

"So, ladies, 'tis not a good thing to listen to other folk's secrets, lest haply one hear ill of oneself." "Did I not know," said Simontault, "that Nomerfide would give us no reason to weep, but rather to laugh? And this I think we all of us have done to admiration." "And what is the cause of it," said Oisille, "that we are always more inclined to laugh at idle folly than true wit?" "For that," said Hircan, "it is more pleasant and more like our own nature, which of itself is never wise; and like always is attached to like—fools to folly, and wise men to wit. Yet I am persuaded that any, be he fool or wise man, could not refrain from laughing at this tale." "There are men," said Geburon, "whose heart is so possessed by a love of wisdom, that for all the tales they may hear they will never laugh; for they have a gladness of the soul and a well-moderated contentment that nothing can move." "What folk are these?" said Hircan. "The philosophers of old days," said Geburon, "by whom nor joy nor sorrow were at all experienced, or, at the least, they showed them not; so great glory did they think it to conquer themselves and their passions. And I esteem it a good thing to do as they did, and conquer a vicious passion, but as to a natural desire leading to no evil this seems a profitless victory. But yet they esteemed it a great virtue." "It is not said," answered Saffredent, " that they were all wise men; and haply there was more appearance of sense and virtue in them than reality." "Natheless," said Geburon, "you will see that they rebuked all evil; and Diogenes himself trod on the bed of Plato, it being too rare and curious for his liking, to show that he despised and would fain put under his feet Plato his vain​glory and covetousness. 'I trample upon and despise,' said he, 'the pride of Plato.'" "But you tell not the whole," said Saffredent, "for Plato answered that his trampling was but pride of another kind." "In truth," said Parlamente, "'tis not possible that this conquest over ourselves can be accomplished by ourselves, save with a monstrous pride especially to be avoided, since it engenders the death and destruction of all the other virtues." "Did I not read to you this morning," said Oisille, "how that they who trusted themselves to be more wise than other men, and who by the light of reason came to know a God, a creator of all things, yet fixing this glory on themselves, and not on Him whence it came, thinking by their own toil they had come to this knowledge, were made not only more ignorant and void of reason than other men, but even than fourfooted beasts? For since they had erred in their minds, attributing to themselves that is God's alone, they showed their errors by bodily disorders, forgetting and perverting their sex as St. Paul to-day declared to us in the Epistle to the Romans." "There is not one of us," said Parlamente, "that will not confess that sin is the fruit of inward evil; which the more it is concealed by an outward show of virtue, the more it is hard to be plucked out." "We men," said Hircan, "are nearer to salvation than you; for since we conceal not our fruits the tree is easily known; but you who dare not show the fruits, and do such brave outward works, are hardly able to discover that great tree of pride, which, well concealed, grows fast." "I confess," replied Longarine, " that if the word of God doth not show us by faith the leprosy of infidelity that is hidden in our hearts, God does us good service when we fall into some open sin, by the which the secret plague becomes clearly manifest. And happy are they whom faith has so humbled that they have no need of making trial of their sinful nature by its outward effects." "But consider," said Simontault, "how we are going on, for setting out from a most foolish tale we are now deep in theology and philosophy. Let us leave these matters to them that are more fit for such musings, and ask to whom Nomerfide gives her vote." "I give it," said she, "to Hircan, commending to him the honour of the ladies." "It is safe in my hands," answered he, "but yet we must needs confess that the nature of woman and man is of itself inclined to vice, ​if it be not preserved therefrom by Him to whom belongeth the honour of every victory. So to abate your pride, when your honour is lauded by anyone, I will tell you this most truthful story."