Part 7

My father, I may not wholly excuse myself, in that I have been for love the better arrayed, and have attempted rondels, balades, virelays and carols for her whom I love, and sung them moreover, and made myself merry in chamber and in hall. But I fared none the better: my glory was in vain. She would not hear my songs, and my fine array brought me no reason to be glad. And yet I have had gladness at times in hearing how men praised her, and also when I have tidings that she is well. Tell me if I am to blame for this.

I acquit thee, my son, and on this matter I think to tell a tale how God does vengeance on this vice. Listen now to a tale that is true, though it be not of love. (2681-2784.)

There was a king of whom I spoke before, Nabugodonosor by name. None was so mighty in his days, and in his Pride he ruled the earth as a god. This king in his sleep saw a tree which overshadowed the whole earth, and all birds and beasts had lodging in it or fed beneath it. Then he heard a voice bidding to hew down the tree and destroy it; but the root (it said) should remain, and bear no man’s heart, but feed on grass like an ox, till the water of the heaven should have washed him seven times and he should be made humble to the will of God. The King could find none to interpret this dream, and sent therefore for Daniel. He said that the tree betokened the king, and that as the tree was hewn down, so his kingdom should be overthrown, and he should pasture like an ox and be rained upon and afflicted, until he acknowledged the greatness of God. The punishment was ordained, he said, for his vain glory, and if he would leave this and entreat for grace, he might perchance escape the evil.

But Pride will not suffer humility to stand with him. Neither for his dream nor yet for Daniel’s word did this king leave his vain glory, and so that which had been foretold came upon him.

Then after seven years he remembered his former state and wept; and though he might not find words, he prayed within his heart to God and vowed to leave his vain glory, reaching up his feet towards the heaven, kneeling and braying for mercy. Suddenly he was changed again into a man and received his power as before, and the pride of vain glory passed for ever from his heart. (2785-3042.)

Be not thou, my son, like a beast, but take humility in hand, for a proud man cannot win love. I think now again to tell thee a tale which may teach thee to follow Humility and eschew Pride.

3067-3425. HUMILITY. The Three Questions. There was once a young and wise king, who delighted in propounding difficult questions, and one knight of his court was so ready in answering them that the king conceived jealousy and resolved to put him to confusion. He bade him therefore answer these three questions on pain of death: (1) What is it that has least need and yet men help it most? (2) What is worth most and yet costs least? (3) What costs most and is worth least? The knight went home to consider, but the more he beat his brains, the more he was perplexed. He had two daughters, the younger fourteen years of age, who, perceiving his grief, entreated him to tell her the cause. At length he did so, and she asked to be allowed to answer for him to the king. When the day came, they went together to the court, and the knight left the answers to the maiden, at which all wondered. She replied to the first question that it was the Earth, upon which men laboured all the year round, and yet it had no need of help, being itself the source of all life. As to the second, it was Humility, through which God sent down his Son, and chose Mary above all others; and yet this costs least to maintain, for it brings about no wars among men. The third question, she said, referred to Pride, which cost Lucifer and the rebel angels the loss of heaven, and Adam the loss of paradise, and was the cause also of so many evils in the world.

The king was satisfied, and looking on the maiden he said, ‘I like thine answer well, and thee also, and if thou wert of lineage equal to these lords, I would take thee for my wife. Ask what thou wilt of me and thou shalt have it.’ She asked an earldom for her father, and this granted, she thanked the king upon her knees, and claimed fulfilment of his former word. Whatever she may have been once, she was now an earl’s daughter, and he had promised to take her as his wife. The king, moved by love, gave his assent, and thus it was. This king ruled Spain in old days and his name was Alphonse: the knight was called Don Petro, and the daughter wise Peronelle. (3067-3402.)

Thus, my son, thou mayest know the evil of Pride, which fell from his place in heaven and in paradise; but Humility is gentle and debonnaire. Therefore leave Pride and take Humility.

My father, I will not forget: but now seek further of my shrift.

My son, I have spoken enough of Pride, and I think now to tell of Envy, which is a hellish vice, in that it does evil without any cause. (3403-3446.)

LIB. II.

1-220. SORROW FOR ANOTHER’S JOY. The next after Pride is ENVY, who burns ever in his thought, if he sees another preferred to himself or more worthy. Hast thou, my son, in love been sick of another man’s welfare?

Yea, father, a thousand times, when I have seen another blithe of love. I am then like Etna, which burns ever within, or like a ship driven about by the winds and waves. But this is only as regards my lady, when I see lovers approach her and whisper in her ear. Not that I mistrust her wisdom, for none can keep her honour better; yet when I see her make good cheer to any man, I am full of Envy to see him glad.

My son, the hound which cannot eat chaff, will yet drive away the oxen who come to the barn; and so it is often with love. If a man is out of grace himself, he desires that another should fail. (1-96.)

Acis and Galatea. Ovid tells a tale how Poliphemus loved Galathea, and she, who loved another, rejected him. He waited then for a chance to grieve her in her love, and he saw her one day in speech with young Acis under a cliff by the sea. His heart was all afire with Envy, and he fled away like an arrow from a bow, and ran roaring as a wild beast round Etna. Then returning he pushed down a part of the cliff upon Acis and slew him. She fled to the sea, where Neptune took her in his charge, and the gods transformed Acis into a spring with fresh streams, as he had been fresh in love, and were wroth with Polipheme for his Envy. (97-200.)

Thus, my son, thou mayest understand that thou must let others be.

My father, the example is good, and I will work no evil in love for Envy. (200-220.)

221-382. JOY FOR ANOTHER’S GRIEF. This vice rejoices when he sees other men sad, and thinks that he rises by another’s fall, as in other things, so also in love. Hast thou done so, my son?

Yes, father, I confess that when I see the lovers of my lady get a fall, I rejoice at it; and the more they lose, the more I think that I shall win: and if I am none the better for it, yet it is a pleasure to me to see another suffer the same pains as I. Tell me if this be wrong.

This kind of Envy, my son, can never be right. It will sometimes be willing to suffer loss, in order that another may also suffer, as a tale will show. (221-290.)

The Travellers and the Angel. Jupiter sent down an angel to report of the condition of mankind. He joined himself to two travellers, and he found by their talk that one was covetous and the other envious. On parting he told them that he came from God, and in return for their kindness he would grant them a boon: one should choose a gift and the other should have the double of what his fellow asked. The covetous man desired the other to ask, and the other, unwilling that his fellow should have more good than he, desired to be deprived of the sight of one eye, in order that his fellow might lose both. This was done, and the envious man rejoiced. (291-364.)

This is a thing contrary to nature, to seek one’s own harm in order to grieve another.

My father, I never did so but in the way that I have said: tell me if there be more.

383-1871. DETRACTION. There is one of the brood of Envy called Detraction. He has Malebouche in his service, who cannot praise any without finding fault. He is like the beetle which flies over the fields, and cares nothing for the spring flowers, but makes his feast of such filth as he may find. So this envious jangler makes no mention of a man’s virtue, but if he find a fault he will proclaim it openly. So also in Love’s court many envious tales are told. If thou hast made such janglery, my son, shrive thee thereof. (383-454.)

Yes, father, but not openly. When I meet my dear lady and think of those who come about her with false tales, all to deceive an innocent (though she is wary enough and can well keep herself), my heart is envious and I tell the worst I know against them; and so I would against the truest and best of men, if he loved my lady; for I cannot endure that any should win there but I. This I do only in my lady’s ear, and above all I never tell any tale which touches her good name. Tell me then what penance I shall endure for this, for I have told you the whole truth.

My son, do so no more. Thy lady, as thou sayest, is wise and wary, and there is no need to tell her these tales. Moreover she will like thee the less for being envious, and often the evil which men plan towards others falls on themselves. Listen to a tale on this matter. (454-586.)

Tale of Constance. The Roman Emperor Tiberius Constantinus had a daughter Constance, beautiful, wise, and full of faith. She converted to Christianity certain merchants of Barbary, who came to Rome to sell their wares, and they, being questioned by the Soldan when they returned, so reported of Constance that he resolved to ask for her in marriage. He sent to Rome and agreed to be converted, and Constance was sent with two cardinals and many other lords, to be his bride. But the mother of the Soldan was moved by jealousy. She invited the whole company to a feast, and there slew her own son and all who had had to do with the marriage except Constance herself, whom she ordered to be placed alone in a rudderless ship with victuals for five years, and so to be committed to the winds and waves. (587-713.)