University of Virginia Library

14. THE THIRTEENTH QUESTION,
PROPOSED BY MASSALINE

MASSALINE, the which sat on the right hand of the queen, and next to Longano, performing the circle, said in this wise:

It is meet that I lastly do propound my question. And therefor to the end that I may make the plesant told tales and the before propounded questions to seem more sweet, I shall tell you a short tale worth the hearing, wherein there falls a question very proper to make an end withal.

I have heretofor heard say that there was in this our city a gentleman who was very rich, that had to wife an exceedingly fair young gentlewoman whom he loved above all worldly things. This gentlewoman was entirely beloved of a knight of the same city, but she loved him not at all, neither cared for him; by occasion whereof the knight was never able to get from her either good words or courteous countenance.

And while he thus lived comfortless of such love, it happened that he was called to the regiment of a city not far distant from this of ours. And accordingly he went thither, having honourably governed the same all the time of his abode there. During which it happened that there came a messenger unto him, who after news thus said:

"Sir, you shall understand that the gentlewoman of our

city whom you so entirely loved above all others, this morning labouring with great grief to be delivered of child, died, not being delivered, and was in my presence of her parents honourably buried."

The knight, not without great sorrow, gave ear to this tale and with a strong heart endured the telling thereof without shewing any alteration of countenance at all, and to himself thus said: "Ha, wretched death, curst be your power! You have deprived me of her whom I loved above all others and whom I desired more to serve, although I knew her crueler to me than any other worldly wight. But since it is thus come to pass, that which love in her lifetime would not vouchsafe to grant me, now that she is dead he cannot deny me. That assuredly if I should die therefor I will now kiss the face of her being dead, that living I loved so well."

And so staying upon this determination, he tarried until it was night, and then took one of his servants whom he best trusted with him, and travelled the dreadful dark ways till at last he came to the city. And being entered the same he went straight to the sepulchre wherein the gentlewoman was buried.

And after he had comforted his servant that he without any fear should attend him there, he opened the same and went thereinto. Lamenting with a piteous plaint, he kissed the gentlewoman and took her in his arms; and not satisfied therewith he began to feel her here and there, and to put his hand into her frozen breast. But afterwards (being much more bold than was meet) to seek out under the rich attire which she had on, going and feeling with a fearful hand hither and thither, till at the last with a feeble motion he felt the weak pulses somewhat to move.

He then became very fearful but yet love made him bold,

and therefor trying further with a more assured heed, he knew that she was not dead. And first of all with a sweet mutation he drew her out of that place, and after wrapping her in a great mantle (leaving the sepulchre open) he and his servant carried her secretly to his mother's house, whereas he conjured his said mother through the power of the god that she neither this nor anything else should manifest to any person living.

He caused great fires to be made to the end to comfort the cold members, whereunto the lost forces did not thereby return in due sort. By occasion whereof, as one peradventure discreet in such a case, willed a solemn hothouse to be prepared, wherein he caused first to be strewed many virtuous herbs and after placed the gentlewoman therein, causing her as it was meet for one in that plight, to be tenderly looked unto. In the which hothouse, after she had for a time made her abode there, the blood coagulated about the heart began through the received heat to disperse by the cold veins and the spirits half dead to return to their places.

Whereupon the gentlewoman (no sooner feeling the same) began to call to her mother, and after to ask where she was. To whom the knight, instead of her mother, made answer that she was in a very good place, and that she should comfort herself. She abiding in this sort, calling upon the woman Lucina for help, was as it pleased the gods (above all expectation) delivered of a fair son, and therewith of great trouble and peril. Whereof remaining disburdened and being joyful of her newborned child, there were out of hand provided nurses, both for the charge of her as also of her son.

The gentlewoman now after all these heavy troubles returned to her perfect understanding, and the new son was also born to the world before she saw either the knight

that thus loved her or his mother, who was pressed to do her service, neither did she see any one of her parents or kinsfolks about her for to look unto her. Whereupon being come into a cogitable admiration as it were all amazed, said: "Where am I? What a wonder is this? Who has brought me hither whereas I was never before?"

To whom the knight answered: "Gentlewoman, marvel not. Comfort yourself, for that which you see has been the pleasure of the gods and I shall tell you how." And so declaring from the beginning to the end all that which was happened her, concluded that through him she and her son were alive. By occasion whereof they were always bounden to be at his pleasure.

The gentlewoman perceiving this to be true, knowing assuredly that she could not by any other means but only by this which he shewed her be come to the hands of the knight, first of all with a devout voice rendered thanks to the immortal gods, and after to him, offering herself to be always at his pleasure and service.

Then said the knight: "Gentlewoman, since you know yourself to be beholden unto me, I will that in guerdon of my well-doing you comfort yourself here in this place until I return from my office, whereunto it is now so long since that I was chosen as the date hereof is almost at an end. Besides you shall promise me faithfully never to betray yourself without my license, either to your husband or any other person."

To whom the gentlewoman answered, that she was unable to deny him either this or any other request, and that assuredly she would comfort herself; and so by oath made unto him she affirmed never to cause herself to be known without his pleasure.

The knight, seeing the gentlewoman out of all peril to

receive comfort, after he had abode two days in her service, recommended her and her child to his mother's charge, and so departed, returning to the government of his said office; the which after little while he honourably ended and returned home to his own house and possessions; whereas of the gentlewoman he was graciously received.

Certain days after his return he caused to be prepared a great banquet, whereunto he invited the husband of this gentlewoman whom he loved, her brethren, and many others of her friends and his. And the bidden guests being set down at the table, the gentlewoman according to the pleasure of the knight came apparelled in those garments and decked with that crown, ring and other precious ornaments (as the use was then) wherewith she was buried. And by the commandment of the knight, placed herself on the one side by her husband and on the other side by himself, whereas she fed that morning without speaking any word at all.

This gentlewoman was oftentimes beheld of her husband and her attire and ornaments also. And as it seemed unto him he knew her to be his wife and those to be the garments wherein she was buried; he yet for that he thought he had buried her dead into her sepulchre, and not believing that she was risen again, durst not once give her a word, doubting lest she had been some other that did resemble his wife, imagining that it were more easy to find one woman in attire and ornaments like to another, than to raise up a dead body.

But yet for all this he turned many times towards the knight and asked him who she was. To whom the knight answered: "Ask of her whom she is, for I cannot tell, out of so unpleasant a place I have brought her."

Then the husband asked the wife who she was, to whom

she answered: "I was brought by this knight by unknown ways unto this place, to that gracious life that is of everyone desired."

At these words there wanted no admiration in the husband but rather the same increased, and so they remained until the banquet was ended. Then the knight led the husband of this gentlewoman into a chamber and with him the gentlewoman, and the others that likewise that banqueted with them whereas they found the gentlewoman's fair and gracious son in the nurse's arms, whom the knight delivered into the father's hands, saying: "This is your son;" and giving him the right hand of his wife, said: "This is your wife and mother of this child." Shewing to him and to the rest how it happened that she was brought thither.

They all after great wonder made great joy and chiefly the husband of his wife, and the wife with her husband of their son. And so both two thanking the knight, returned merrily home to their house, many days after making marvelous joy.

This knight entreated this gentlewoman with that tenderness and that pure faith, as if she had been his sister, and therefor it is doubted which of these two was the greater; either the loyalty of the knight or the joy of the husband that had now gotten again his lost wife, whom he reputed as dead. I pray you to say your opinion and what you would judge hereof.

"Most great (as we believe)," answered the queen, "was the joy of the again gotten wife and of her child. And likewise noble and very great was the loyalty of the knight. But for that it is a natural thing to be glad of the getting again of things lost (neither could it otherwise be because it would any other) and especially in the getting again of a thing before so greatly loved, with a child, whereof there

could not be made so great joy as was convenient. We do not repute it to be so great a matter as to do that whereunto a man of his proper virtue is constrained to do, the which in being loyal comes to pass, because the being and not being loyal is a thing possible. We say then, that from whom proceeds the being loyal in a thing so greatly loved that he does a most great and noble thing in keeping loyalty, and that in a far greater quantity loyalty does increase in him than does joy in the other, and thus we judge."

"Truly," said Massaline, "most renowned queen, I believe it be as you say. But yet it seems unto me a great matter to think that with so great joy as was in him that had gotten again his wife, there could be made comparison of greatness in another thing, for as much as greater grief is not supported than whenas through death a thing loved is lost. Further, if the knight were faithful, as is already said, he did therein but his duty, because we are all bounden unto the working of virtue. And he that does that whereunto he is of duty bounden, does but well; but yet it is not to be reputed for so great a matter. Therefor, I imagine that there may be judged greater joy than loyalty."

"You with your words do contrary yourself," said the queen, "because man ought as well to rejoice in the goodness of God in taking him away as through the working of virtue. But if the one could be in the one case as sorrowful as the other could be in the other case disloyal, it might be consented to your judgement. To follow the laws of nature which cannot be fled is no great matter, but to obey the positive laws is a virtue of the mind; and the virtues of the mind both for greatness as for every other respect are to be preferred before bodily works. And if virtuous works (making due recompense) do surmount in greatness every other working, it may be said that the having been loyal

endures always in being. Joy may be turned into sudden sorrow, either else in a short space of time become little or nothing, losing that thing through the which it is become merry. And therefor let it be said of him that uprightly will judge, the knight to have been more loyal than the other merry."