Gesta Romanorum

by Charles Swan

  The wife, whom Alexius had married and quitted on the evening of their nuptials, had been borne along by the congregating populace; but distress, until now, had held her silent.* As Abael ceased, she sprung forward and cried, “Thou, miserable ! what then am I ? Woe is me! to-day I am desolate; to-day I am all a widow! Now, there is none for whom I may look—none whom I may yet expect, although he come not. Where shall mine eye see gladness ? The glass of my joy is broken †—shivered —shivered: my hope is extinct; and grief is all the portion of my widowhood.” The multitude, penetrated by the various calamities of which they were witnesses, sympathized with the sufferers, and wept aloud.

  By command of the pontiff and the two emperors, the body was deposited on a sumptuous bier, and brought into the middle of the city. Proclamation was made that the man of God was discovered, whom they had before sought in vain ; and every one crowded to the bier. Now, if any infirm person touched the hallowed corpse, instantly he was strengthened. The blind received their sight; those who were possessed of devils were set free, and all the sick, be the disorder what it might, when they had once come in contact with the body, were made whole. These miraculous effects attracted the attention of the emperors and the pontiff. They determined to support the bier; and when they had done so, they were sanctified by the holiness which proceeded from the corse. They then scattered great abundance of gold and silver about the streets, that the people’s natural cupidity might draw them aside, and the bier be carried forward to the church; but, strange to say, careless of all else, they pressed yet the more vehemently to touch it. At length, after great exertions, he was brought to the church of St. Boniface the Martyr; and there, for the space of seven days, they tarried, praising God. They constructed a monument, glittering with gold and precious stones, and here, with the greatest reverence, placed the body of their Saint. Even from the very monument, so sweet an odour of sanctity broke forth, that it seemed to be entirely filled with the most fragrant aroma. He died about the year of our Lord CCCXXVIII. (2)

  APPLICATION.

  My beloved, Eufemian is any man of this world who hath a darling son, for whose advantage he labours day and night. He obtains a wife for him, that is, the vanity of the world, which he delights in as in a bride; nay, the world’s vanities are often more to a man than the most virtuous wife—for life is sacrificed to the one, but, alas! how seldom to the other! The mother is the world itself, which greatly values her worldly-minded children. But the good son, like the blessed Alexius, is more studious to please God than his parents, remembering that it is said, “He who forsakes land or houses, or father, or mother, or wife, for my sake, shall receive an hundredfold, and possess eternal life.” Alexius enters a ship, &c. The ship is our holy Church, by which we ought to enter, if we would obtain everlasting happiness. We must likewise lay aside gorgeous raiment—that is, the pomps of world; and associate with the poor—that is, the poor in spirit. The warden, who conducted him into the church, is a prudent confessor, whose duty it is to instinct the sinner, and lead him to a knowledge of the sacred Scriptures, by which the soul may pass unharmed to immortality. But sometimes tempests arise, and hurry a man to his own country, as it happened to Alexius. The temptations of the Evil One are symbolized by these tempests, which turn the voyager from his settled course, and prevent a life of goodness. If, therefore, you feel that you are subject to certain temptations, follow the example of the holy Alexius. Assume the dress of a pilgrim—that is, take the qualities necessary for the pilgrimage of this life, and disguise yourself from your carnal and worldly father, and become a man of God. But if it fall out that, when such a one aspires to a life of penitence, his parents lament, and decry their child’s contempt of the world, and his voluntary choice of poverty for the love of God—still, it is safer to displease them than Heaven. Obtain, therefore, a fair piece of paper, which is a good conscience, on which inscribe your life; and then, the High Priest with the emperors will draw near—that is, Christ with a multitude of angels—and convey your soul to the church of St. Boniface—that is, to eternal life, where all sanctity (or joy) abounds.

  * It is proper to warn the reader that this tale is somewhat periphrastically translated.

  † Before the close of the tale we find it was in the reign of two.

  ‡ The Latin is caput; if it mean not this, I know not what it means.

  * It has also borne the names of Antiochia, Callirrhoë, Justinopolis —and Rhoas, said to have been built by Nimrod.

  * Tarsus is the capital of Cilicia, called by the Turks Tersis.

  * Are we to suppose that the one emperor had been succeeded by the two, since the commencement of the tale? The Pontiff Innocent seems supererogatory.

  * The reader will not perhaps comprehend much occasion for the lady’s sorrow.

  † The monk is not often so poetical.

  TALE XVI.

  OF AN EXEMPLARY LIFE.

  WE read of a certain Roman emperor, who built a magnificent palace. In digging the foundation, the workmen discovered a golden sarcophagus, ornamented with three circlets, on which were inscribed, “I have expended—I have given—I have kept—I have possessed—I do possess —I have lost—I am punished. What I formerly expended, I have; what I gave away, I have.”* The emperor, on seeing this, called to him the nobles of his empire, and said, “Go, and consider among ye what this superscription signifies.” The noblemen replied, “Sire, the meaning is, that an emperor, who reigned before your majesty, wished to leave an example for the imitation of his successors. He therefore wrote, ‘I have expended,’—that is, my life; judging some, admonishing others, and governing to the best of my ability. ‘I have given,’—that is, equipments to my soldiers, and supplies to the needy; to every one according to his desert. ‘I have kept,’—that is, exact justice; showing mercy to the indigent, and yielding to the labourer his hire. ‘I have possessed,’—that is, a generous and true heart; recompensing faithfully those who have done me service, and exhibiting at all times a kind and affable exterior. ‘I do possess,’—that is, a hand to bestow, to protect, and to punish. ‘I have lost,’—that is, my folly; I have lost the friendship of my foes, and the lascivious indulgences of the flesh. ‘I am punished,’—that is, in hell; because I believed not in one eternal God, and put no faith in the redemption.” * * * *

  The emperor hearing this, ever after regulated himself and his subjects with greater wisdom, and finished his life in peace.

  APPLICATION.

  My beloved, the emperor is any Christian, whose duty it is to raise a fair structure—that is, a heart prepared for the reception of God. If he dig deep, led onward by sincere contrition for past offences, he will find a golden sarcophagus—that is, a mind gilded with virtue and full of the divine grace. Three golden circlets will ornament it, and these are faith, hope, and charity. But what is written there? In the first place, “I have expended.” Tell me, my beloved, what have you expended? The good Christian may reply, “Body and soul in the service of God.” Whosoever of you thus expends his life, will secure the rewards of eternity. The second legend saith, “I have kept.” Tell me, my beloved, what have you kept ? The good Christian may answer, “A broken and contrite spirit.” The third inscription says, “I have given.” Tell me, my beloved, what have you given ? The good Christian may reply, “My whole heart to God.” Et sic de cœteris.

  * From hence, in all probability, Robert Byrkes derived the quaint epitaph, which is to be found, according to Gough, in Doncaster church, “new cut” upon his tomb in Roman capitals:—

  “Howe: Howe: who is heare:

  I, Robin of Doncaster, and Margaret my feare.

  That I spent, that I had:

  That I gave, that I have:

  That I left, that I lost.

  A.D. 1579.

  Quod Robertus Byrkes,

  who in this worlde

  did reygne thre

  score yeares and seaven,

  and yet lived not one.”

  * The story seems
here to be defective. “What I expended, I have; what I gave away, I have,” receives no explanation. It may be filled up thus: “What I expended, I have,” that is, having expended my property with judgment, I have received various benefits which remain to me in my posterity. “What I gave away, I have,” that is, my donations have procured for me the thanks of the poor, and the blessing of heaven.

  TALE XVII.

  OF A PEEFECT LIFE.

  AN emperor decreed that whoever wished to serve him should obtain his wish, conditionally that he struck three times upon the palace gate, by which those within might understand that he wished to take service. Now, there was a certain poor man in the Roman empire, called Guido; who, on hearing the mode by which admission to the emperor’s service was to be attained, thus thought—“I am a poor fellow, of low descent; it is better for me to serve and acquire wealth than to live in independence and starve.” So he proceeded to the palace, and according to the edict, gave three blows upon the gate. The porter immediately opened it, and brought him in. He was introduced and made his obeisance to the emperor, who said, “What seek you, my friend?” Guido replied, “I wish to serve your majesty.” “And for what office may you be fit ?” returned the emperor. “I can serve, with tolerable expertness, in six capacities,” said Guido. “First, I can act as body-guard to the prince; I can make his bed, dress his food, and wash his feet. Secondly, I can watch when others sleep, and sleep when others watch. Thirdly, I can drink good drink, and tell whether it be good or not. Fourthly, I can invite company to a festival for my master’s honour. Fifthly, I can make a fire without the least smoke, which will warm all that approach it. Sixthly, I can teach people the way to the Holy Land, from whence they will return in excellent health.” “By my faith,” said the emperor, “these are fine matters, and will be useful on many occasions. Thou shalt stay with me, and serve me first as body-guard. In each department thou shalt remain a full year.” Guido expressed himself content; and every night made ready the emperor’s bed, washed the linen, and occasionally changed it. Then he lay down at the entrance of the chamber, armed at all points. He likewise provided a dog, whose barking might warn him of any danger. Once every week* he washed the emperor’s feet, and in all respects ministered so faithfully and manfully, that not the least fault was found with him. The emperor, therefore, was well pleased; and at the expiration of the year made him his seneschal, preparatory to the fulfilment of the second office, which was to watch. Then Guido commenced his operations; and during the whole summer collected a variety of stores, and watched with great assiduity the fittest opportunities. So that on the approach of winter, when others, who had wasted the proper season, began to labour and lay up, he took his ease, and thus completed the service of the second year. When the emperor perceived his diligence and sagacity, he called to him his chief butler, and said, “Friend, put into my cup some of the best wine, mingled with must and vinegar,† and give it to Guido to taste; for that is his third ministry, namely, to taste good drink, and pronounce upon its qualities.” The butler did as he was commanded. When Guido had tasted, he said, “It was good; it is good; it will be good. That is, the must which is new will be good when it is older; the old wine is good, at present; and the vinegar was good formerly.” When the emperor saw that he had such a sound judgment of the beverage, he said, “Go now through town and country, and invite all my friends to a festival; for Christmas is at hand: herein shall consist your fourth ministry.” Guido instantly set out; but instead of executing the orders he had received, he invited none but the emperor’s enemies; thus, on Christmas Eve, his court was filled with them. When he observed this, he was exceedingly perturbed, and calling Guido to him, said, “How is this? Did you not say that you knew what men to ask to my table ?” He answered, “Surely, my Lord.” “And said I not,” returned the emperor, very much provoked, “said I not that thou wert to invite my friends ? How comes it that thou hast assembled only my enemies?” “My Lord,” replied Guido, “suffer me to speak. At all seasons, and at all hours, your friends may visit you, and they are received with pleasure; but it is not so with your enemies. From which reflection I persuaded myself that a conciliating behaviour and a good dinner would convert your inveterate enemies into warm friends.” This was really the case; before the feast concluded they all became cordial partisans, and as long as they lived remained faithful to their sovereign. The emperor, therefore, was much delighted, and cried, “Blessed be God, my enemies are now my friends! Execute thy fifth ministry, and make both for them and me a fire that shall bum without smoke.” Guido replied,. “It shall be done immediately,” and he thus performed his promise. In the heat of summer, he dried a quantity of green wood in the sun: having done this, he made a fire with it that blazed and sparkled, but threw out no smoke; so that the emperor and his friends warmed themselves without inconvenience. He was now directed to perform his last service, and promised great honours and wealth on completing it also, equally to the satisfaction of his master. “My Lord,” said Guido, “whoever would travel to the Holy Land must follow me to the seaside.” Accordingly, proclamation being made, men, women, and children in immense crowds hastened after him. When they arrived at the appointed place, Guido said, “My friends, do you observe in the sea the same things which I do ? “They answered, “We know not that.” “Then,” continued he, “do you perceive in the midst of the waves an immense rock ? Lift up your eyes and look.” They replied, “Master, we see it well enough, but do not understand why you ask us.” “Know,” said he, “that in this rock there is a sort of bird continually sitting on her nest, in which are seven eggs. While she is thus employed the sea is tranquil; but if she happen to quit her nest, storm and tempest immediately succeed; insomuch that they who would venture upon the ocean are certain to be cast away. On the other hand, as long as she sits upon the eggs, whoever goes to sea will go and return in safety.” “But,” said they, “how shall we ascertain when the bird is on her nest, and when she is not?” He replied, “She never quits her nest except on some particular emergency. For there is another bird, exceedingly hostile to her, and labouring day and night to defile her nest and break the eggs. Now, the bird of the nest, when she sees her eggs broken and her nest fouled, instantly flies away possessed with the greatest grief; then the sea rages, and the winds become very boisterous. At that time you ought especially to avoid putting out of port.” The people made answer, “But, master, what remedy is there for this? How shall we prevent the unfriendly bird from approaching the other’s nest, and so pass safely over the waters?” “There is nothing,” returned Guido, “which this unfriendly bird so much abhors as the blood of a lamb. Sprinkle, therefore, with this blood the inside and the outside of the nest, and as long as one single drop remains it will never approach it: the bird of the nest will sit; the sea will continue calm; and you will pass and repass with perfect safety.” “When they had heard this, they took the blood of the lamb, and sprinkled it as he had said. They then passed securely to the Holy Land; and the emperor, seeing that Guido had fulfilled every ministry with wisdom, promoted him to a great military command, and bestowed on him immense riches.*