Gesta Romanorum

by Charles Swan

  Now, it happened that there dwelt in the city a philosopher called Socrates, whom the king very greatly esteemed. This person was sent for, and thus addressed, “My good friend, I design to espouse you to my only daughter.” Socrates, overjoyed at the proposal, expressed his gratitude as he best could. “But,” continued the emperor, “take her with this condition: that if she die first, you shall not survive her.” The philosopher assented; the nuptials were solemnized with great splendour, and for a length of time their happiness was uninterrupted.

  But at last she sickened, and her death was hourly expected. This deeply afflicted Socrates, and he retired into a neighbouring forest and gave free course to his alarm. Whilst he was thus occupied, it chanced that King Alexander* hunted in the same forest; and that a soldier of his guard discerned the philosopher, and rode up to him. “Who art thou? “asked the soldier. “I am,” replied he, “the servant of my master; and he who is the servant of my master is the lord of thine.” “How ?” cried the other, “there is not a greater person in the universe than he whom I serve. But since you are pleased to say otherwise, I will presently lead you to him; and we will hear who thy lord is.” Accordingly, he was brought before Alexander. “Friend,” said the king, “concerning whom dost thou say that his servant is my master ?” The philosopher answered, “My master is reason; his servant is the will. Now, dost thou not govern thy kingdom according to the dictates of thy will? Therefore, thy will is thy master. But the will is the servant of my master. So that what I said is true, and thou canst not disprove it.” Alexander, wondering at the man’s wit, candidly answered in the affirmative, and ever after ruled both himself and his kingdom by the laws of reason.

  Socrates, however, entered farther into the forest, and wept bitterly over the expected decease of his wife. In the midst of his distress he was accosted by an old man who inhabited that part of the wood. “Master,” said he, “why art thou afflicted? ““Alas!” answered the other, “I have espoused the daughter of an emperor upon the condition that if she die I should die with her: she is now on the point of death, and my life therefore will certainly be required.” “What!” said the old man, “grievest thou for this ? Take my counsel, and thou shalt be safe enough. Thy wife is of royal descent; let her besmear her breast with some of her father’s blood. Then, do thou search in the depths of this forest, where thou wilt find three herbs: of one of them make a beverage and administer it to her; the other two beat into a plaster, and apply it to the afflicted part. If my instructions are exactly attended to, she will be restored to perfect health.” Socrates did as he was directed; and his wife presently recovered. When the emperor knew how he had striven to find a remedy for his wife’s disorder, he loaded him with riches and honours.*

  APPLICATION.

  My beloved, the emperor is our Lord Jesus Christ; the daughter is the soul, given to man on condition that, should it be destroyed by sin, he also should lose eternal life. The priest is the Church, where health and safety may be found. The old man is a wise confessor, and Alexander is the world.

  † It was a maxim of Themistocles that his daughter had better marry a man without an estate, than an estate without a man.

  * The introduction of Alexander the Great, Socrates, and a Roman emperor, is a strange jumble of times and persons.

  * The latter part of this apologue is in Alphonsus, De Clericali Disciplina. It is the last of the Latin copy; but not noticed in Mr. Douce’s analysis, as occurring in the GESTA.

  TALE LXII.

  OF THE BEAUTY OF A FAITHFUL MIND.

  WHEN Salus was emperor, there lived a very beautiful woman, whose name was Florentina. She was so remarkably handsome that three kings sought her love, by one of whom she was abused. This occasioned a war between them, and great numbers of men fell on both sides. But the nobles, unwilling to see so much waste of blood, interfered, and addressing the emperor, bade him observe that, unless a stop were put to the virulent animosity which divided them, the whole kingdom would be annihilated. The emperor, duly considering what had been said, directed letters, impressed with the royal signet, to be sent to the fair occasion of the war; by which, without delay, she was commanded to appear before him. A herald bore the mandate, but before he could deliver it she died. The herald, therefore, returned, and the emperor, very much regretting that he had lost sight of so beautiful a woman, caused all the best artists in the kingdom to be summoned into his presence. When they were assembled, he spoke as follows: “My friends, the reason that I have sent for you is this. There was a very beautiful woman, named Florentina, for whose love a great number of men have lost their lives. She died before I had an opportunity of seeing her. Do ye go, therefore; paint her to the life, as she was in all her beauty. Thus shall I discover wherefore so many were sacrificed.” The artists answered, “Your majesty wishes a thing which is very difficult to execute. Her beauty was so surpassing, that not all the artists in the world, save one, would be able to do her justice; and he hides himself amongst the mountains. But he alone can perfectly fulfil your desires.” On receiving this information, messengers were despatched in pursuit of him. He was soon found, and brought before the curious monarch, who commanded him to paint Florentina as she appeared when living; and if he did it, his reward should be royal. “Your request is extremely difficult,” said the painter; “nevertheless, cause all the beautiful women in your kingdom to come before me for an hour at least, and I will do as you desire.” The emperor complied, and made them stand in his presence. From these the artist selected four, and permitted the rest to return home. Then he commenced his labours. First, he laid on a coat of red colour; and whatever was exquisitely beautiful in the four women, that he copied in his painting. In this manner it received its completion; and when the emperor beheld it, he said, “Oh, Florentina, had you lived to eternity, you ought to have loved that painter who has represented you in so much beauty.”

  APPLICATION.

  My beloved, the emperor is God; the beautiful Florentina is the soul ; the three kings, the devil, the world, and the flesh. The nobles are the patriarchs and prophets, who were the mediators between God and man. The painters are the angels and men, amongst whom there was found no one who would rescue the soul from death. The artist who came from the mountains is Christ. The red colour is blood; the four women are existence, growth, feeling, and understanding.

  TALE LXIII.

  OF THE PLEASURES OF THIS WORLD.

  THE Emperor Vespasian had a daughter called Agläes, whose loveliness was greater than that of all other women. It happened that as she stood opposite to him on a certain occasion, he considered her very attentively, and then addressed her as follows : “My beloved daughter, thy beauty merits a loftier title than thou hast yet received. I will change thy name; henceforward, be thou called the Lady of Comfort, in sign that whosoever looks upon thee in sorrow may depart in joy.”

  Now, the emperor possessed, near his palace, a delicious garden, in which he frequently walked. Proclamation was made that whosoever wished to marry his daughter should come to the palace, and remain in this garden the space of three or four days; when they quitted it, the ceremony should take place. Immense crowds were allured by the apparently easy terms of the notice; they entered the garden, but were never again seen. Not one of them returned. But a certain knight, who dwelt in some remote country, hearing of the conditions by which the daughter of a great king might be espoused, came to the gate of the palace and demanded entrance. On being introduced to the emperor, he spoke thus: “I hear it commonly reported, my Lord, that whoever enters your garden shall espouse your daughter. For this purpose I come.” “Enter, then,” said the emperor; “on thy return thou shall marry her.” “But,” added the knight, “I solicit one boon of your majesty. Before I enter the garden, I would entreat an opportunity of conversing a short time with the lady.” “I have no objection to that,” said the emperor. She was called, and the knight accosted her in these words : “Fair damsel, thou hast been called the Lady of
Comfort, because every one who enters thy presence sorrowful returns contented and happy. I, therefore, approach thee sad and desolate—give me the means to leave thee in happiness: many have entered the garden, but never any reappeared. If the same chance happen to me—alas! that I should have sought thee in marriage.” “I will tell thee the truth,” said the lady, “and convert thy unhappiness into pleasure. In that garden there is an enormous lion, which devours every one who enters with the hope of marrying me. Arm thyself, therefore, cap-a-pie, and smear your armour with gum. As soon as you have entered the garden the lion will rush toward you; attack him manfully, and when you are weary, leave him. Then will he instantly seize you by the arm or leg; but in so doing, the gum will adhere to his teeth, and he will be unable to hurt you. As soon as you perceive this, unsheath your sword and separate his head from his body. Besides the ferocious animal I have described, there is another danger to be overcome. There is but one entrance, and so intricate are the labyrinths, that egress is nearly impossible without assistance. But here also I will befriend you. Take this ball of thread, and attach one of the ends to the gate as you enter, and, retaining the line, pass into the garden. But, as you love your life, beware that you lose not the thread.”*

  The knight exactly observed all these instructions. Having armed himself, he entered the garden; and the lion, with open mouth, rushed forward to devour him. He defended himself resolutely; and when his strength failed, he leapt a few paces back. Then, as the lady had said, the lion seized upon the knight’s arm; but, since his teeth were clogged with gum, he did him no injury, and the sword presently put an end to the combat. Unhappily, however, while exulting over his victory, he let go the thread, and in great tribulation wandered about the garden for three days, diligently seeking the lost clue. Towards night he discovered it, and with no small joy hastened back to the gate. Then, loosening the thread, he bent his way to the presence of the emperor; and in due time the LADY OF COMFORT became his wife.*

  APPLICATION.

  My beloved, the emperor is Christ; the Lady of Comfort is the kingdom of heaven. The garden is the world; the lion, the devil. The ball of thread represents baptism, by which we enter into the world.

  * A fine moral, which might be oftener remembered with advantage. The Gospel is to the Christian what the ball of thread was to the knight: pity that it should so frequently be lost!

  * “Here seems to be an allusion to MEDEA’S history.”—WARTON. It is surely more analogous to the story of the Minotaur, and the clue furnished by Ariadne to her lover. Warton should have explained the resemblance he has fancied.

  TALE LXIV.

  OF THE INCARNATION OF OUR LORD.

  A CERTAIN king was remarkable for three qualities. Firstly, he was stronger in body than all men; secondly, he was wiser; and lastly, more beautiful. He lived a long time unmarried; and his counsellors would persuade him to take a wife. “My friends,” said he, “it is clear to you that I am rich and powerful enough; and therefore want not wealth. Go, then, through town and country, and seek me out a beautiful and wise virgin; and if ye can find such a one, however poor she may be, I will marry her.” The command was obeyed; they proceeded on their search, until at last they discovered a lady of royal extraction with the qualifications desired. But the king was not so easily satisfied, and determined to put her wisdom to the test. He sent to the lady by a herald a piece of linen cloth, three inches square; -and bade her contrive to make for him a shirt exactly fitted to his body. “Then,” added he, “she shall be my wife.” The messenger, thus commissioned, departed on his errand, and respectfully presented the cloth, with the request of the king. “How can I comply with it,” exclaimed the lady, “when the cloth is but three inches square ? It is impossible to make a shirt of that; but bring me a vessel in which I may work, and I promise to make the shirt long enough for the body.” The messenger returned with the reply of the virgin, and the king immediately sent a sumptuous vessel, by means of which she extended the cloth to the required size, and completed the shirt. Whereupon the wise king married her.

  APPLICATION.

  My beloved, the king is God; the virgin, the mother of Christ; who was also the chosen vessel. By the messenger is meant Gabriel; the cloth is the grace of God, which, by proper care and labour, is made sufficient for man’s salvation.

  TALE LXV.

  OF THE CURE OF THE SOUL.

  A KING once undertook a journey from one state to another. After much travel, he came to a certain cross, which was covered with inscriptions. On one side was written, “Oh, king, if you ride this way, you yourself will find good entertainment, but your horse will get nothing to eat.” On another part appeared as follows: “If you ride this road, your horse will be admirably attended to, but you will get nothing for yourself.” Again, on a third place was inscribed: “If you walk this path, you will find entertainment both for yourself and horse ; but before you depart, you will be miserably beaten.” On a fourth part of the cross it was said: “If you walk this way, they will serve you diligently, but they will detain your horse, and oblige you to proceed the rest of your journey on foot.” When the king had read the inscriptions, he began to consider which of the evils he should choose. He determined at length upon the first; “For,” said he, “I shall fare very well myself, though my horse starve; and the night will soon pass away.” On this, he struck the spurs into his horse; and arrived at the castle of a knight, who entreated him courteously, but gave his steed little or nothing. In the morning he rode on to his own palace, and related all that he had seen.*

  APPLICATION.

  My beloved, the king is any good Christian, who journeys for the safety of his soul. The horse which he rides is the body, composed of the four elements. The cross is conscience, which points out the way, and explains the consequences attending it.

  * [Compare the story of “Lubim Czarewich and the Winged Wolf” in Russian Popular Tales, p. 1, where the hero is offered the choice between three roads in terms almost identical with the text. —ED.]

  TALE LXVI.

  OF CONSTANCY.

  THERE once lived a king who had a beautiful and beloved daughter. After his death she succeeded to the throne, but, being young and unprotected, a certain tyrannical duke came to her, and, by means of large promises, won her to dishonour. When his iniquitous purpose was accomplished, the girl wept bitterly; and soon after the tyrant expelled her from the inheritance. Thus reduced from the splendours of royalty to the lowest state of wretchedness, she solicited alms of the passengers. It happened that as she sat weeping by the wayside, a certain knight passed by, and observing her great beauty, became enamoured of her. “Fair lady,” said he, “what are you?” “I am,” replied the weeping girl, “the only daughter of a king; after whose death a tyrant seduced and abused me, and then deprived me of my inheritance.” “Well,” returned the knight, “are you willing to marry me ? ““Oh, my Lord !” exclaimed she, “I desire it beyond anything that could happen.” “Then plight me your faith,” said the knight; “promise to receive no one for your husband but me, and I will make war upon the tyrant, and reinstate you in your possessions. But if I fall in the conflict, I entreat you to retain my bloody arms under your care, in testimony of affection; that in case any one hereafter shall desire your love, you may enter the chamber in which the arms hang, and may thus be reminded of the proof I have given of my attachment and devotion to your service.” “I promise faithfully,” returned she, “to comply with your wishes : but, oh! may your life be safe!” The knight therefore armed himself, and proceeded to engage the tyrant, who had heard of his intention, and prepared for the attack. The knight, however, overcame him, and cut off his head: but, receiving a mortal wound, he died on the third day. The lady bewailed his death, and hung up his bloody armour in her chamber. She visited it frequently, and washed it with bitter tears. Many noblemen sought to espouse her, and made magnificent promises; but invariably before returning an answer she entered the chamber, and, surveying the bloody
armour steadfastly, exclaimed, amid abundance of tears, “Oh, thou, who devotedst thyself to death for one so unworthy, and restoredst me my kingdom!—far be it from me to abjure my plighted faith.” Then returning to those who sought her love, she declared her resolution never to unite herself with another. When they heard this they departed; and thus she remained single to the end of her life.*

  APPLICATION.

  My beloved, the king is our heavenly Father; and the daughter is the soul sedueed by the devil. The wayside is the world. The soldier who rode past is the Son of God; the bloody armour is His death and passion.

  * See Tale XXV., which differs but little from this.

  [Mr. D. G. Rossetti has used this tale and the twenty-fifth as the groundwork of his beautiful poem, “The Staff and Scrip “(Rossetti’s Poems, p. 47).—ED.]

  TALE LXVII.

  OF EXCUSES WHICH ARE NOT TO BE ADMITTED IN EXTREME CASES.

  THE Emperor Maximian was renowned for the wisdom of his government. In his reign there lived two knights, the one wise and the other foolish, but who had a mutual regard for each other. “Let us make an agreement,” said the wise knight, “which will be advantageous to both.” The other assented, and, by the direction of his friend, proceeded to draw blood from his right arm. “I,” said the latter, “will drink of thy blood, and thou of mine; so that neither in prosperity nor in adversity shall our covenant be broken, and whatsoever the one gains, shall be divided by the other.” The foolish knight agreed; and they ratified the treaty by a draught of each other’s blood. After this they both dwelt in the same mansion. Now, the lord of the country had two cities, one of which was built on the summit of a lofty mountain. Since all who went to it would possess great wealth, and remain there for life, the path to this city was narrow and stony, and about midway three knights with a large army were stationed. The custom was that whosoever passed should do battle, or lose his life, with everything that he possessed. In that city the emperor appointed a seneschal, who received without exception all who entered, and ministered to them according to their condition. But the other city was built in a valley under the mountain, the way to which was perfectly level and pleasant. Three soldiers dwelt there, who cheerfully received whosoever came, and served them according to their pleasure. In this city also a seneschal was placed, but he ordered all who approached to be thrown into prison, and on the coming of the judge to be condemned.