The Heptameron (Machen)/Novel 55

In the town of Sarragossa there lived a rich merchant, who seeing his death draw nigh, and that he could no longer keep what perchance he had gathered together by evil means, thought that if he made God a small present, it would be in some sort a satisfaction for his sins; as if God would sell his grace for money. And when he had set his house in order, he said that he devised his fine Spanish horse to be sold at the highest price that could be got, and the money given to the poor; praying his wife not to fail, so soon as he was dead, to sell the horse and distribute the money according to his desire. And when the burial of him was at an end, and the first tears had fallen, the wife, who was no more of a fool than other women of Spain, went to a servant who had likewise heard his master's pleasure, and said to him: "It seems to me that the loss of the husband I loved so well is enough for me to bear, without also losing his substance. Yet I would in nowise disobey his will, but rather do it after a more perfect manner, for the poor man, misled of the covetous priests, thought to do God a great service by giving, after his death, these monies, of which in his life he would not have given a single ducat in a case of extreme necessity, as you well know. Wherefore I am of opinion that we do what he charged us at his death, and after a better fashion than he would have done himself had he lived five days longer; but not a single soul must be privy to the matter." And when she had the servant's promise to keep it secret she said to him: "You shall go sell the horse, and to them that ask how much, you shall answer a ducat; but I have a mighty serviceable cat which I am minded to put into the market, and you must sell it together with the horse for ninety-nine ducats, and so the cat and the horse will bring the hundred ducats that my husband would have taken for the horse alone." The servant forthwith did as he was commanded of his mistress, and as he led the horse through the market place, holding the cat under his arm, a gentleman who had afore seen the horse and desired to have it, asked the price thereof. The servant replied a ducat. The gentleman said: "Prithee do not mock me." ​"I do assure you," said the man, "it will cost you but a single ducat. It is true you must buy the cat along with it, of which the price is ninety-nine ducats." Straightway the gentleman, thinking it was a reasonable bargain, paid him one ducat for the horse, and ninety and nine for the cat, as it was asked of him, and bore away his commodities. The servant, on the other hand, took the money to his mistress, which she received right merrily, and failed not to give the one ducat that was the price of the horse to the poor beggars, as her husband had enjoined, and kept the ninety and nine for herself and her children.

"What think you? Was she not wiser than her husband, and was not her care for her conscience small in comparison with her care for his money?" "I think," said Parlamente, "that she loved her husband well, but since men for the most part wander when they are near to death, she, knowing his intent, interpreted his words to the profit of her children; wherefore I esteem her to have done prudently." "What!" said Geburon, "do you not esteem it a great sin to make the will of the departed of none effect?" "I do so esteem it," answered Parlamente, "being the deviser is of sound mind and not wandering." "Call you it wandering to give of one's substance to the Church and to the poor?" "By no means," said Parlamente, "when a man distributes to the poor what God hath put in his hands, but to make alms of another's goods I esteem no great wisdom. For you commonly see the worst usurers build the bravest and most admirable chapels, thinking to appease God for a hundred thousand ducats of robbery with ten thousand ducats of building, as if God could not keep account." "Truly," said Oisille, "I have often marvelled how they think to do God a pleasure with the selfsame things that he reproved when on earth, such as buildings adorned with gold and painting. But if they would attend to what God hath said in one place where he asks of us not sacrifice but a humble and contrite heart, and in another where St. Paul tells us we are the temples in the which God would dwell; they would labour to adorn their souls while they are alive, and not wait for the hour when men can do nor good nor evil, laying a charge on them that remain to do alms to the poor whom, while they are alive, they deign not so much as to look upon. But He ​that knoweth the heart of man is not deceived, and will judge them not only for their works but also for the faith and love they have had for Him." "How comes it then," said Geburon, "that the Grey Friars and Mendicants at our death talk of nothing but of making benefactions to their monasteries, assuring us that they will send us forthwith to paradise, whether we will or no?" "What! Geburon," said Hircan, "have you forgotten the craft of the friars that you yourself have told us of, that you ask how it is possible for them to lie? I declare to you that I deem them the greatest liars in the world, and though they that speak on behalf of the whole community are not worthy of reproof, yet there are certain of them that forget their vow of poverty to satisfy their covetousness," "Methinks, Hircan," said Nomerfide, "you know of some tale to the purpose. I pray you, if it be worthy of this company here present, to tell it." "I will do so," said Hircan, "though it wearies me to talk of these folk, for it seems to me that they are in the number of them of whom Virgil says to Dante: 'Pass on, and heed them not.' Natheless, to show you that they leave not their worldly passions with their worldly habits, I will tell you how the case fell out."