‘The priest, greatly revolted at that disgusting sight and becoming very depressed for fear of what it might mean, wandered off on his way all gloomy and pensive. He happened to meet a good-looking, aged man like a pilgrim, who asked the priest the reason for his sadness. The priest, repeating the matter written before, said he felt great fear and heaviness of heart when he beheld that revolting beast soil and devour such lovely flowers and blossoms, and afterwards discharge them so horribly at his rear end in the priest’s presence – he did not understand what this might mean.
‘Then the pilgrim, showing himself to be the messenger of God, thus addressed him, “Priest, you are yourself the pear-tree, somewhat flourishing and flowering through your saying of services and administering of sacraments, although you act without devotion, for you take very little heed how you say your matins and your service, so long as it is babbled to an end. Then you go to your mass without devotion, and you have very little contrition for your sin. You receive there the fruit of everlasting life, the sacrament of the altar, in a very feeble frame of mind. All day long afterwards, you spend your time amiss: you give yourself over to buying and selling, bartering and exchanging, just like a man of the world. You sit over your beer, giving yourself up to gluttony and excess, to the lust of your body, through lechery and impurity. You break the commandments of God through swearing, lying, detraction and backbiting gossip, and the practice of other such sins. Thus, through your misconduct, just like the loathsome bear, you devour and destroy the flowers and blossoms of virtuous living, to your own endless damnation and to the hindrance of many other people, unless you have grace for repentance and amending.” ’
Then the Archbishop liked the tale a lot and commended it, saying it was a good tale. And the cleric who had examined her before in the absence of the Archbishop, said, ‘Sir, this tale cuts me to the heart.’
The said creature said to the cleric, ‘Ah, worthy doctor, sir, in the place where I mostly live is a worthy cleric, a good preacher, who boldly speaks out against the misconduct of people and will flatter no one. He says many times in the pulpit: “If anyone is displeased by my preaching, note him well, for he is guilty.” And just so, sir,’ she said to the clerk, ‘do you behave with me, God forgive you for it.’
The cleric did not know what he could say to her, and afterwards the same cleric came to her and begged her for forgiveness that he had been so against her. He also asked her specially to pray for him.
And then afterwards the Archbishop said, ‘Where shall I get a man who could escort this woman from me?’
Many young men quickly jumped up, and everyone of them said, ‘My lord, I will go with her.’
The Archbishop answered, ‘You are too young: I will not have you.’
Then a good, sober man of the Archbishop’s household asked his lord what he would give him if he would escort her. The Archbishop offered him five shillings, and the man asked for a noble.6 The Archbishop answering said, ‘I will not spend so much on her body.’
‘Yes, good sir,’ said this creature, ‘Our Lord shall reward you very well for it.’
Then the Archbishop said to the man, ‘See, here is five shillings, and now escort her fast out of this area.’
She, kneeling down on her knees, asked his blessing. He, asking her to pray for him, blessed her and let her go.
Then she, going back again to York, was received by many people, and by very worthy clerics, who rejoiced in our Lord, who had given her – uneducated as she was – the wit and wisdom to answer so many learned men without shame or blame, thanks be to God.
Chapter 53
Afterwards that good man who was her escort brought her out of the town, and they went on to Bridlington to her confessor, who was called Sleytham, and spoke with him and with many other good men who had encouraged her previously and done much for her. Then she would not stay there, but took her leave to walk on upon her journey. And then her confessor asked her if she dared not stay because of the Archbishop of York, and she said, ‘No, truly.’
Then the good man gave her silver, begging her to pray for him. And so she went on to Hull. And there, on one occasion, as they went in procession, a great woman treated her with utter contempt, and she said not a word in reply. Many other people said that she ought to be put in prison and made great threats. And notwithstanding all their malice, a good man still came and asked her to a meal, and made her very welcome. Then the malicious people who had despised her before came to this good man, and told him that he ought not do her any kindness, for they considered that she was not a good woman. On the next day, in the morning, her host escorted her out to the edge of town, for he dared not keep her with him any longer.
And so she went to Hessle and would have crossed over the Humber. Then she happened to find there two Preaching Friars, and two yeomen of the Duke of Bedford’s.1 The friars told the yeomen which woman she was, and the yeomen arrested her as she was about to board her boat, and also arrested a man who travelled with her.
‘For our lord,’ they said, ‘the Duke of Bedford, has sent for you, and you are held to be the greatest Lollard in all this part of the country, or around London either. We have sought you in many a part of the land, and we shall have a hundred pounds for bringing you before our lord.’
She said to them, ‘With a good will, sirs, I shall go with you wherever you will lead me.’
Then they brought her back to Hessle, and there men called her Lollard, and women came running out of their houses with their distaffs, crying to the people, ‘Burn this false heretic.’
So as she went on towards Beverley with the said yeomen and friars, they many times met with men of that district who said to her, ‘Woman, give up this life that you lead, and go and spin, and card wool, as other women do, and do not suffer so much shame and so much unhappiness. We would not suffer so much for any money on earth.’
Then she said to them, T do not suffer as much sorrow as I would do for our Lord’s love, for I only suffer cutting words, and our merciful Lord Christ Jesus – worshipped be his name – suffered hard strokes, bitter scourgings, and shameful death at the last, for me and for all mankind, blessed may he be. And therefore, it is truly nothing that I suffer, in comparison to what he suffered.’
And so, as she went along with the said men, she told them good stories, until one of the Duke’s men who had arrested her said to her, T rather regret that I met with you, for it seems to me that you speak very good words.’
Then she said to him, ‘Sir, do not regret nor repent that you met with me. Do your lord’s will, and I trust that all shall be for the best, for I am very well pleased that you met with me.’
He replied, ‘If ever you’re a saint in heaven, lady, pray for me.’
She answered, saying to him, ‘Sir, I hope you will be a saint yourself, and every man that shall come to heaven.’
So they went on till they came into Beverley, where lived the wife of one of the men who had arrested her. And they escorted her there and took away from her her purse and her ring. They provided her with a nice room and a decent bed in it, with all the necessaries, locking the door with a key, and bearing the key away with them.
Afterwards they took the man whom they arrested with her, who was the Archbishop of York’s man, and put him in prison. And soon after, that same day, came news that the Archbishop had come to the town where his man was put in prison. The Archbishop was told of his man’s imprisonment, and he immediately had him let out. Then that man went to the said creature with an angry face, saying, ‘Alas that I ever knew you! I have been imprisoned because of you.’
She, comforting him, replied, ‘Have meekness and patience, and you shall have great reward in heaven for it.’
So he went away from her. Then she stood looking out at a window, telling many edifying tales to those who would hear her, so much so that women wept bitterly, and said with great heaviness of heart, ‘Alas, woman, why should you be burned?’
Then she begged the
good wife of the house to give her a drink, for she was terribly thirsty. And the good wife said her husband had taken away the key, because of which she could not come in to her, nor give her a drink. And then the women took a ladder and set it up against the window, and gave her a pint of wine in a pot, and also a cup, begging her to conceal the pot and cup, so that when the good man came back he might not notice it.
Chapter 54
The said creature, lying in her bed on the following night, heard with her bodily ears a loud voice calling, ‘Margery.’ With that voice she awoke, greatly frightened, and, lying still in silence, she said her prayers as devoutly as she could at that time. And soon our merciful Lord, everywhere present, comforting his unworthy servant, said to her, ‘Daughter, it is more pleasing to me that you suffer scorn and humiliation, shame and rebukes, wrongs and distress, than if your head were struck off three times a day every day for seven years. And therefore, daughter, do not fear what any man can say to you. But in my goodness, and in your sorrows that you have suffered, you have great cause to rejoice, for when you come home to heaven, then shall every sorrow be turned into joy for you.’
On the next day she was brought into the Chapterhouse of Beverley,1 and there was the Archbishop of York, and many great clerics with him, priests, canons, and secular men. Then the Archbishop said to this creature, ‘What, woman, have you come back again? I would gladly be rid of you.’
And then a priest brought her before him, and the Archbishop said, in the hearing of all present, ‘Sirs, I had this woman before me at Cawood, and there I with my clerics examined her in her faith and found no fault in her. Furthermore, sirs, I have since that time spoken with good men who hold her to be a perfect woman2 and a good woman. Notwithstanding all this, I gave one of my men five shillings to lead her out of this part of the country, in order to quieten the people down. And as they were going on their journey they were taken and arrested, my man put in prison because of her; also her gold and her silver was taken away from her, together with her beads and her ring, and she is brought before me again here. Is there any man here who can say anything against her?’
Then other men said, ‘Here is a friar who knows many things against her.’
The friar came forward and said that she disparaged all men of Holy Church – and he uttered much evil talk about her that time. He also said that she would have been burnt at Lynn, had his order – that was the Preaching Friars – not been there. ‘And, sir, she says that she may weep and have contrition when she will.’
Then came the two men who had arrested her, saying with the friar that she was Cobham’s daughter,3 and was sent to carry letters about the country. And they said she had not been to Jerusalem, nor in the Holy Land, nor on other pilgrimage, as she had been in truth.4 They denied all truth, and maintained what was wrong, as many others had done before. When they had said enough for a long while, they held their peace.
Then the Archbishop said to her, ‘Woman, what do you say to all this?’
She said, ‘My lord, saving your reverence, all the words that they say are lies.’
Then the Archbishop said to the friar, ‘Friar, the words are not heresy; they are slanderous words and erroneous.’
‘My lord,’ said the friar, ‘she knows her faith well enough. Nevertheless, my lord of Bedford is angry with her, and he will have her.’
‘Well, friar,’ said the Archbishop, ‘and you shall escort her to him.’
‘No, sir,’ said the friar, ‘it is not a friar’s job to escort a woman about.’
‘And I will not have it,’ said the Archbishop, ‘that the Duke of Bedford be angry with me because of her.’
Then the Archbishop said to his men, ‘Watch the friar until I want to see him again,’ and commanded another man to guard the said creature as well, until he wanted to see her another time, when he pleased. The said creature begged his lordship that she not be put amongst men, for she was a man’s wife. And the Archbishop said, ‘No, you shall come to no harm.’
Then he who was charged with her took her by the hand and led her home to his house, and made her sit with him to eat and drink, making her very welcome. Many priests and other men came there to see her and talk to her, and many people were very sorry that she was being so badly treated.
A short time afterwards the Archbishop sent for her, and she was led into his chamber, and even up to his bedside. Then she, bowing, thanked him for his gracious favour that he had shown her before.
‘Yes, yes,’ said the Archbishop, ‘I am told worse things of you than I ever was before.’
She said, ‘My lord, if you care to examine me, I shall avow the truth, and if I be found guilty, I will be obedient to your correction.’
Then a Preaching Friar came forward, who was Suffragan to the Archbishop, to whom the Archbishop said, ‘Now, sir, as you said to me when she was not present, say now while she is present.’
‘Shall I do so?’ said the Suffragan.
‘Yes,’ said the Archbishop.
Then the Suffragan said to this creature, ‘Woman, you were at my Lady Westmorland’s.’5
‘When, sir?’ said she.
‘At Easter,’ said the Suffragan.
She, not replying, said, ‘Well, sir?’
Then he said, ‘My Lady herself was well pleased with you and liked your talk, but you advised my Lady Greystoke to leave her husband,6 and she is a baron’s wife, and daughter to my Lady of Westmorland. And now you have said enough to be burned for.’ And so he multiplied many sharp words in front of the Archbishop – it is not fitting to repeat them.
At last she said to the Archbishop, ‘My lord, if it be your will, I have not seen my Lady Westmorland these two years and more. Sir, she sent for me before I went to Jerusalem7 and, if you like, I will go to her again for a testimonial that I prompted no such matter.’
‘No,’ said those who stood round about, ‘let her be put in prison, and we will send a letter to the noble lady, and, if it be the truth that she is saying, let her go free, without any grudging.’
And she said she was quite satisfied that it should be so.
Then a great cleric who stood a little to one side of the Archbishop said, ‘Put her in prison forty days, and she will love God the better for the rest of her life.’
The Archbishop asked her what tale it was that she told the Lady of Westmorland when she spoke with her.
She said, ‘I told her a good tale of a lady who was damned because she would not love her enemies, and of a bailiff who was saved because he loved his enemies and forgave them their trespasses against him, and yet he was held to be an evil man.’
The Archbishop said it was a good tale. Then his steward said, and many others with him, crying with a loud voice to the Archbishop, ‘My lord, we pray you, let her go from here this time, and if she ever comes back again, we will burn her ourselves.’
The Archbishop said, T believe there was never woman in England so treated as she is, and has been.’
Then he said to this creature, ‘I do not know what I shall do with you.’
She said, ‘My lord, I pray you, let me have your letter and your seal as a record that I have vindicated myself against my enemies, and that nothing admissible is charged against me, neither error nor heresy that may be proved against me, our Lord be thanked. And let me have John, your man, again to bring me over the water.’
And the Archbishop very kindly granted her all she desired -our Lord grant him his reward – and delivered to her her purse with her ring and beads, which the Duke of Bedford’s men had taken from her before. The Archbishop was amazed at where she got the money to travel about the country with, and she said good men gave it her so that she would pray for them.
Then she, kneeling down, received his blessing and took her leave with a very glad heart, going out of his chamber. And the Archbishop’s household asked her to pray for them, but the Steward was angry because she laughed and was so cheerful, saying to her, ‘Holy folk should not laugh.’8
She said, ‘Sir, I have great cause to laugh, for the more shame and scorn I suffer, the merrier I may be in our Lord Jesus Christ.’
Then she came down into the hall, and there stood the Preaching Friar who had caused her all that unhappiness. And so she passed on with a man of the Archbishop’s, bearing the letter which the Archbishop had granted her for a record, and he brought her to the River Humber, and there he took his leave of her, returning to his lord and bearing the said letter with him again, and so she was left alone, without any knowledge of the people.
All the aforesaid trouble befell her on a Friday, God be thanked for everything.9
Chapter 55
When she had crossed the River Humber, she was immediately arrested as a Lollard and led towards prison. There happened to be a person there who had seen her before the Archbishop of York, and he got her leave to go where she wanted, and excused her to the bailiff, and undertook for her that she was no Lollard. And so she escaped away in the name of Jesus.
Then she met a man from London, and his wife who was with him. And so she went on with them until she came to Lincoln, and there she suffered much scorn and many annoying words, answering back in God’s cause without any hindrance, wisely and discreetly, so that people were amazed at her knowledge.
There were men of law who said to her, ‘We have gone to school many years, and yet we are not sufficient to answer as you do. From whom do you get this knowledge?’
And she said, ‘From the Holy Ghost.’
Then they asked, ‘Do you have the Holy Ghost?’
‘Yes, sirs,’ said she, ‘no one may say a good word without the gift of the Holy Ghost, for our Lord Jesus Christ said to his disciples, “Do not study what you shall say, for it shall not be your spirit that shall speak in you, but it shall be the spirit of the Holy Ghost.” ’1
And thus our Lord gave her grace to answer them, worshipped may he be.
The Book of Margery Kempe Page 17