THE FIRST DAY.
NOVEL I.
Chappelet imposes upon a holy friar by a sham confession, and dies; and, although a very wicked fellow, comes afterwards to be reputed a saint, and called St. Chappelet.
It is most meet and right, dear ladies, that everything we do should be begun in the name of Him who is the Maker of all things. Therefore, as I am to entertain you first, I shall relate an instance of his marvellous ways, which may direct us to place all our hopes in him, as the only unchangeable being, and evermore to praise him. Certain it is, that all earthly things are transitory and mortal; attended with great troubles, and subject to infinite dangers; which we who live embroiled with them, and are even part of them, could neither endure, nor find a remedy for, were it not for the especial grace of God that enables us, - a blessing which we are not to expect through our own merits, but his goodness, and the intercession of those saints, who, having been once mortal men like ourselves, and done his will whilst on earth, now enjoy happiness and immortality in heaven. To them, as to fit agents, informed of our frailties by their own experience, we, not daring, perhaps, immediately to address ourselves to so great a Judge, offer up our prayers for what we want. And we find his mercy the greater, forasmuch as, not being able to pry into the secrets of his Divine will, we may sometimes make choice of a mediator before him, who is banished eternally from his presence: and yet he from whom nothing is hidden, having regard to the purity of the supplicant, rather than to his ignorance, or the situation of the person to whom he applies himself, hears those who pray in this manner, as if that mediator were really a saint. All this will most plainly appear from the following story; I say most plainly, not with reference to the judgment of God, but of man.
There lived in France a person named Musciat; who, from a wealthy merchant became a courtier, and went into Tuscany with Charles, surnamed Lackland, brother to the King of France, who was instigated to that expedition by Pope Boniface. This gentleman, finding his affairs in a very complicated state, as is usual with persons in trade, and being moreover unable to adjust them himself, without a good deal of time and trouble, resolved to employ several agents for their arrangement. By this means he settled everything to his mind, excepting some debts which were outstanding from persons in Burgundy. The reason was, he had found them to be a set of perverse, ill-conditioned, rascally fellows, and he could not for his life conceive where a man might be met with bad enough to match them. After much thinking about it, he at last called to mind one Ciappelletto da Prato, who used to come much to his house at Paris; and he being a little pragmatical fellow, the French, not knowing the meaning of his true name, which was Capperello, but thinking him to have been called Cappello, gave him the diminutive name of Ciappelletto, or Chappelet, that is, "garland," by which he was generally known there.
Now the character of the man was this: being by trade a scrivener, he was really ashamed if any writings of his (he did not draw many indeed) were found without some fault or flaw; and would do that sort of work for nothing, with more pleasure than a just thing that he was to be well paid for. He was glad at all times of being a false witness, whether it was required of him or not; and, as great regard was had to an oath in France, he, who made no scruple to forswear himself on every occasion, was sure of every cause that depended on his single testimony. To foment quarrels and disputes was his utmost pleasure, especially amongst friends or relations; and the more mischief he occasioned, the greater was his satisfaction. Was a man to be dispatched at any time, he was the person to undertake it, and would do it with his own hands. He was a great blasphemer of God and his saints, swearing and cursing on every occasion. He went to church at no time, but spoke always of the holy sacraments in the same abominable terms as he would do of the vilest things in the world; on the other hand, he was eternally at taverns, and places of bad repute. Of women he was as fond as a dog is of a stick; but to unnatural vice, no wretch so abandoned as himself. He would pilfer and steal with as much conscience as others give to charity. He was a glutton and drunkard, to the ruin of his constitution. He was also a most notorious gamester; making use always of false dice. And, to sum up his character in few words, perhaps his equal in wickedness has not yet been born. Yet, ad as he was, he had all along been screened by the favour and interest of Musciat, as well from the resentment of private persons, whom he had often injured, as from that of the court, to which he gave daily provocation.
This man came into Musciat's thoughts at last, who being no stranger to every part of his life, concluded him to be such a one as the tempers of the people he had to deal with required. Sending for him, therefore, he addressed him thus: "Master Chappelet, you know that I am about to leave this country, and as I have affairs to settle with some people of Burgundy, who are full of quirks and deceit, I do not know any one that I can employ so fit to manage them as yourself; you have a good deal of spare time, and if you will undertake it, I will procure you recommendatory letters from court, and allow you a reasonable part of what you recover." Chappelet, who found himself much embarrassed in the world, and likely to be more so when his great friend was gone, without hesitating at all about it, answered that he was willing. They agreed upon terms; Musciat gave him a deputation, procured him letters he had promised, and he set out for Burgundy, where, being quite a stranger, he endeavoured, contrary to his former manner, to do the business he came about by fair means, reserving a different behaviour to the last. He lodged with two brothers, who were usurers.
They entertained him well on Musciat's account, and on his falling sick there, they had physicians to see him, and servants to attend him; nor was anything omitted that could be of service, but all in vain; for this worthy good man, who was advanced in years, and had been also an irregular liver, grew worse and worse in the judgment of the physicians; so that he was looked upon as a dead man; at which the brothers were greatly concerned.
One day, being near the chamber where he lay, they began to have some talk together about him: "What shall we do with this fellow?" said one to the other; "we have a fine affair upon our hands, on his account. For to turn him out in this condition would afford matter for reproach, and also be a proof of our want of understanding; the people seeing us receive him before into our house, and supply him with physic, and all things necessary; and now seeing us turn him out whilst he is dying, without his having been able to do anything that we ought to be offended at. On the other hand, he has been such a vile fellow always, that he will never be brought to confess, and to receive the sacraments of the Church; and should he die without them, no church will receive his body; but he most be put into the ground like a dog. Or should he confess, his sins will appear so enormous, that the like were never known; nor can any priest be found that will give him absolution, and without that he must still be thrown into a ditch: and should this happen, the people of this country, who think ours an iniquitous trade, and are daily reviling us, would be apt to raise a mutiny, and declare publicly that they will no longer bear with these Lombards, these extortioning villains, whom the Church disdains to receive into her bosom. They will make that a pretence to plunder us of all we are worth, and abuse our persons into the bargain; so that it will be bad for us on all sides, should this man die."
Chappelet, who, as we have said, lay not far off, heard all this, for sick people are often quick of hearing, and calling them to him, said: "I would have you be in no doubt or fear of harm to yourselves on my account; I have heard what you have been talking about, and am confident the thing would happen as you say, were everything to be as you suppose; but I will take care that it shall happen otherwise. I have been guilty of so much wickedness in my lifetime, that to add one sin at my death, will not make the sum much greater: therefore send for the most able and pious priest you know of, if a pious one can be found, and I will take such care of your affairs, as well as of my own, that you shall have reason to be satisfied." The brothers expected no great matters from this; they went however to a convent, and desired that some learned and holy person would come and take the confession of a Lombard, who was sick in their house. Accordingly, a venerable old friar, of great sanctity and learning, and much reverenced by the whole city, was ordered to go with them, who on coming into the room, seated himself by the sick man's bedside, and began, after some heavenly consolations, to inquire of him, how long it was since he had last confessed. Chappelet, who had never confessed in his whole life, replied:
"Holy father, it has been usual with me always to confess once a week at least, and sometimes oftener; but it is true, since I have been sick, my affliction has been such, that I have not confessed at all."
"That is well, my son," said the friar, "thus you should always do; and I perceive as you have confessed so often, that I shall have but little trouble, either in hearing or asking you questions."
"Good father, do not say so," cried Chappelet: "I have never so often confessed, but that I would always mention every sin that I could recollect from the hour I was born.
Therefore I beg you will examine me as particularly, as if I had never confessed at all; and do not regard my languishing condition; for I had much rather do what may disoblige the flesh, than, by consulting the ease of my body, bring damnation on my soul, which my Saviour has purchased with his most precious blood."
The good old man was ravished with these expressions, esteeming them proofs of a well-disposed mind; and having commended his piety, he asked him whether he had ever offended God by the knowledge of women. Chappelet, fetching a deep sigh, replied: "I am ashamed to speak the truth, lest I should be thought to offend by vain-glory." - 'speak out boldly," said the priest, " for there can be no harm in telling truth, whether at confession or any other time." - 'since you make me easy on that score," quoth Chappelet, "I will speak out. I am as pure, in that respect, as when I first came into the world."
"God bless my son," said the friar, "you have done well; and this is so much the more meritorious, as you have liberties far beyond us, of doing otherwise; but," he added, "were you never given to gluttony?" Chappelet answered with a groan, "Yes, very often; for besides fasting in Lent, as all devout persons do, I have accustomed myself to live three days in a week, at least, on bread and water; and I have drunk the water sometimes, especially if I have been fatigued with praying, or performing a pilgrimage, with as much pleasure as drunkards drink wine; and sometimes I have wished for salads, and have eaten my bread with more pleasure than a person ought, who fasts out of devotion."
"My son," replied the friar, "these are very natural and trivial errors, and I would not have you burthen your conscience more than is necessary: all men, be they ever so holy, eat with a good appetite after fasting, and drink with pleasure when they have been fatigued."
"Do not tell me these things to comfort me only," said Chappelet; "you know I cannot be ignorant, that whatever relates to the service of God, should be done sincerely, and with a good will, otherwise we are guilty of sin." - "I am well satisfied," returned the friar,
"in your being of that opinion, and much approve the purity of your conscience: but tell me, have you not been guilty of the sin of covetousness, desiring more than was fit, or detaining what was not your due?"
"I would not have you think so," said Chappelet, "because you see me in the house with these usurers: I have no concern with them, but came purely to persuade them to leave off that abominable way of living; and I believe I might have prevailed, had it not pleased God to visit me in this manner. My father left me a plentiful fortune, and I immediately disposed of the greater part of it to religious uses; and betook myself to trade for a maintenance, and to have it in my power to relieve the poor in Christ:
I cannot say, indeed, that I have not been desirous of gain; but I always gave half to the poor, and kept the other part for my own necessary occasions; and God has so far blessed me, that my affairs have always prospered.”
"You have done well," said the confessor, "but have you not been often transported with anger and passion?" "Very often truly! "answered the penitent, "but who can forbear, seeing the common degeneracy of mankind, who are every day breaking the commandments of God, and are not kept in awe by his judgements?
I could rather choose to be out of the world, than to see youth run after vanity, swear and forswear, haunt taverns, neglect going to church, and follow the ways of the world before those of God."
"My son," said the friar, "passion here is commendable; nor shall I enjoin you any penance for it: but have you been transported by rage at no time, to murder, or use indecent expressions, or to do any other injury?"
"Alas, sir!" answered Chappelet, "how can you, who appear to be so good a man, mention any such thing! Do you believe, had I ever entertained such thoughts, that God would have suffered me to live? these are the actions of robbers and villains, whom I never look upon without offering up a prayer to God for their conversion."
"God bless you again, my dear child," said the good old man: "but have you never borne false witness against, or spoken ill of another, or taken away that from him which properly belonged to him?"
"Yes, reverend father," answered he, "I must needs confess I have spoken ill of another, for I had once a neighbour, who used to beat his wife without cause; and I gave him a
bad character to her parents; so much did I pity the poor woman, who was always ill treated by him, as often as he got drunk."
"But," said the friar, "you tell me you have been a merchant, did you never cheat any person, as is common for them to do?"
"Yes, in good truth, sir," he replied, "but I know only of one person, who, having brought the money for a piece of cloth which I had sold him, I put it into a bag without counting it, and at the month's end, when I came to tell it over, I found fourpence too much; but as I was not able to find the owner again, after keeping it a year, I gave it to the poor."
"This is a mere trifle," said the friar, "and you did well to dispose of it in that manner."
He then put some other questions, which Chappelet answered as he had done the rest; and just as he was proceeding to absolution, Chappelet cried out, "There is another thing hangs upon me, which I have not confessed." The priest inquired what it was; and he answered, "I remember once making my maid clean the house on a holiday; and I have not showed that regard for the Lord's day which I ought.Oh! 'said the friar, "that is a small matter, my son." "Do not call it so, dear father," quoth the other, 'sunday is a day much to be reverenced, being the day on which our Lord rose from the dead."
"Well," said the priest, "is there anything more?"
"Yes," answered he, "I remember, once in my life, to have spat in the house of God." The friar smiled, and said, "My son, that is not to be regarded; we ourselves spit there every day." "And you are much to blame for it," returned he, "for nothing should be kept so clean as the temple of God, where we offer sacrifice." In short, he told him many more things of that kind, and at last, as he could weep when he pleased, he fell groaning and sobbing, as though he would burst his very heart. "My son, what is the matter?" said the friar. "Alas, sir! "he answered: "there is one sin left behind, which I could never endure to confess, the shame to mention it is so great, and as often as I recollect it I lament in the manner you now see; nay I am convinced that God will never forgive it."
"Go, go, my son," quoth the friar, "what is that you say? I tell you, that if all the wickedness that ever was committed by man, or can be committed whilst the world endures, was to be amassed in one person, if that person was thoroughly penitent, as I see you are, so great is God's mercy, that upon confession, it would all be forgiven him; tell me then what it is."
"Alas! father," said Chappelet, shedding abundance of tears, "my sin is so heinous, that I despair altogether of pardon, unless you assist me, and move God by your prayers."
'speak out, then," said the friar, "and I promise to intercede for you." Chappelet still kept weeping, and would say nothing; the priest exhorting him all the while to clear his conscience. At last, after the penitent had held his confessor some time in suspense, he fetched a deep sigh, and said: 'since you have promised to pray for me, I will disclose it, you must know then, that when I was a child, I once cursed my mother;" and here he began to lament afresh in a most grievous manner.
"My good son," said the friar, "does this seem so great a sin? men are cursing God every day, yet he pardons them upon repentance; and do you think you shall never be forgiven? weep not: but let this be your comfort, that though you had even a hand in nailing Christ upon the cross, yet would that sin be forgiven on such a repentance as yours." "What do you say?" quoth Chappelet; "what! to curse my dearest mother, who bore me day and night in her womb for nine months, and suckled me many hundreds of times at her breast! No, the sin is so great, that I must inevitably perish, unless your prayers prevent it."
The friar finding he had no more to say, absolved and gave him his benediction; and, supposing that he had spoken truth all the while, thought him the most pious man living. And, indeed, who could think otherwise, having it all from a dying man?
He afterwards said to him, "Master Chappelet, by God's assistance you will soon recover; but if it should please the Almighty to take your blessed and well-disposed soul unto himself, will you give leave for your body to be buried in our convent?"
"I would have it laid nowhere else," he answered, "both because you have promised to pray for me, and as I have always had a great regard for your order; therefore, when you go home I beg you will take care, that the real body of our Lord, which was consecrated at your altar this morning, may be brought to me; for, unworthy as I am, I intend, with your leave, to receive it, and after that extreme unction; so that though I have been a great sinner all my life, I may die at least like a Christian." The holy man was much pleased, told him that he said well, and promised that it should be brought that day; and so it was.
The brothers being a little suspicious that he intended to impose upon them, had posted themselves behind a partition of the room, where they heard all that passed; insomuch that they could scarcely refrain from laughing; and said one to another, "what a strange fellow this is! whom neither age, sickness, fear of death, which is at hand, nor of God, at whose tribunal he must shortly appear, is sufficient to deter from his wicked courses, or to prevent his dying as he has always lived!" But as he had obtained burial in the church by that means, they cared no farther.
Chappelet then received the sacrament, and growing worse and worse had extreme unction, and died the evening that he had made this extraordinary confession.
The brothers took immediate care that he should be honourably interred, and sent forthwith to the convent to desire they would come, as was usual, and perform vigils and matins for the deceased: and the friar, to whom he had confessed, went upon this notice to the prior, and had a chapter called, when he informed them how holy a person Chappelet was, as he could easily perceive by his confession: and hoping that God would work many miracles by him, he urged them to receive his body with all due reverence and devotion. To this the prior and the credulous brotherhood all consented, and that night they came in a body to the place where the corpse lay, and sang the great and solemn vigils; and in the morning they all went for the body in their hoods and surplices, with books in their hands, and the cross carried before them, singing all the way. They brought it with the utmost solemnity to their church, being followed by the whole city; and having set it down there, the good confessor mounted a pulpit, and told them wonderful things concerning the life of the deceased, his fastings, charity, simplicity, innocence, and sanctity; speaking more particularly of that great crime, which he had confessed with so much concern, as scarcely to be persuaded that God would forgive him. Thence he took occasion to reprove his audience, exclaiming: "Yet you, wicked as you are, make no scruple to curse God, the holy mother of God, and all the host of heaven, for the least trifle." He flourished much concerning his truth and purity; and worked so far upon them by his discourse, to which all yielded an implicit faith, that when the service was ended they pressed forward to kiss the hands and feet of the deceased; and the funeral clothes were immediately rent to pieces, every one thinking himself happy who could get a single rag. All that day he was kept, so that every one might see and visit him; and at night he was most honourably interred in a marble sepulchre. On the following day there was a great procession of devout persons, to worship at his shrine with lighted tapers, and to offer the waxen images which they had vowed. And such was the fame of his sanctity, and people's devotion towards him, that nobody in time of trouble would apply to any other saint but him, calling him St. Chappelet, and affirming, that God had wrought many miracles by him, and still continued to work them for such as recommended themselves devoutly to him.
Thus lived and died master Capperello da Prato, and became a saint, as you have heard, of whom I will not pronounce it impossible that he may be happy; for though his whole life could not be worse, it is not impossible, but, before the hour of his death, he might be such a penitent, that God should have mercy on him, and receive him into his kingdom. But as this we know nothing of, we have much more reason, from what appears, to conclude that he is more probably in the hands of the devil in purgatory, than amongst the angels in Paradise. And if it be so, great is God's mercy towards us; who, not regarding our errors, but the purity of our intention, whenever we make choice of an improper mediator, hears us as well as if we had applied to one truly a saint.
And therefore, that this grace may preserve us in our present calamity, and in this cheerful and agreeable society, let us praise his name, as we first began; recommending ourselves to him in time of need, with a full assurance of being always heard.
