Chapter 23
There once came a vicar to this creature, asking her to pray for him and discover whether he would please God more by leaving his cure of souls and his benefice or by keeping it, because he thought he was of no use among his parishioners. The creature being in her prayers and having this matter in mind, Christ said to her spirit, ‘Tell the vicar to keep his cure and his benefice, and be diligent in preaching and teaching to them in person, and sometimes to procure others to teach them my laws and my commandments, so that there is no fault on his part, and if they don’t do any better, his reward shall be none the less for it.’
And so she gave her message as she was commanded, and the vicar still kept his cure.
As this creature was once in the Church of St Margaret in the choir, where a corpse was present, and he who was the husband of the dead woman while she was alive was there in good health to make an offering at mass, according to the custom of the place, our Lord said to this creature, ‘Lo, daughter, the soul of this body is in purgatory, and he who was her husband is now in good health, and yet he shall be dead within a short time.’ And so it happened, as she had felt by revelation.
Also, as this creature once lay in the choir at her prayers, a priest came to her and asked her to pray for a woman who lay at the point of death. As this creature prayed for her our Lord said to her, ‘Daughter, it is very necessary to pray for her, because she has been a wicked woman, and she shall die.’
And she replied, ‘Lord, as you love me, save her soul from damnation.’ And then she wept with abundant tears for that soul. And our Lord granted her mercy for the soul, commanding her to pray for her.
This creature’s confessor came to her, urging her to pray for a woman who lay at death’s door, as was thought, and then our Lord said she would live and thrive, and so she did.
A good man who was a great friend to this creature, and very helpful to the poor, was seriously ill for many weeks on end. And people were very sorry on his account, for it was not thought he would ever live, his pain was so amazing in all his joints and all over his body. Our Lord Jesus said to her spirit, ‘Daughter, don’t be afraid for this man – he will live and get on very well.’
And so he lived for many years afterwards in good health and prosperity.
Another good man, who was a dyer, also lay ill, and when this creature prayed for him she was answered in her mind that he would linger a while and then he would die of his illness, and so he did a short time afterwards.
Also, a respectable woman and, as people believed, a holy woman, who was a special friend of this creature, was very ill, and many people thought she would die. Then, while this creature was praying for her, our Lord said, ‘She shall not die these ten years, for after this you will celebrate together and have excellent talks, as you have had before.’
And so it was, in truth; this holy woman lived for many years afterwards. Many more such revelations this creature had in feeling; to write them all down would perhaps be to hinder more profitable things. These are written to show the homely intimacy and goodness of our merciful Lord Christ Jesus, and not to commend this creature.
These feelings and others like them, many more than can be written, both of living and of dying, of some to be saved, of some to be damned, were great pain and punishment to this creature. She would rather have suffered any bodily penance than these feelings, if she might have put them aside, such was the fear that she had of delusions and deceptions by her spiritual enemies. She sometimes had such great trouble with such feelings when they did not ring true to her understanding, that her confessor feared that she would fall into despair at them. And then, after her trouble and her great fear, it would be shown to her soul how the feelings should be understood.
Chapter 24
The priest who wrote down this book, in order to test this creature’s feelings, asked her questions many different times about things that were to come – things of which the outcome was unsure and uncertain to anybody at that time – asking her, though she was loath and unwilling to do such things, to pray to God and discover when our Lord would visit her with devotion, what the outcome would be, and then truly, without any pretending, tell him how she felt, or else he would not have gladly written the book.
And so this creature, partly compelled by the fear that he would not otherwise have followed her intention in writing this book, did as he asked her and told him her feelings as to what would happen in such matters as he asked her about, if her feelings were true. And in this way he tested them for their truth. And yet he would not always give credence to her words, and that hindered him in the following way.
It happened once that a young man came to this priest, whom the priest had never seen before, bemoaning the poverty and trouble that had befallen him through bad luck, explaining the cause of his misfortune, and also saying he had taken holy orders to be a priest. Because of a little over-hastiness in defending himself – as he had no choice unless he was to be chased and killed by his enemies – he struck a man, or else two, as a result of which, as he said, they were dead or else likely to die. And so he had fallen into an irregular life and might not execute his orders without dispensation of the court of Rome, and for this reason he fled from his friends, and dared not go back to his part of the country for fear of being arrested for their deaths.
The said priest gave credence to the young man’s story because he was a likeable person, handsome, well-favoured in looks and manner, sober in talk, priestly in bearing and dress. And feeling sorry for his trouble, and intending to get him some friends to relieve and comfort him, he went to a respectable burgess in Lynn, the equal of any mayor and a compassionate man, who was very ill and had been for a long time. The priest lamented to this man and to his wife, a very good woman, the bad luck of this young man, believing he would receive a generous donation, as he often had previously when he asked on behalf of others.
It so happened that the creature of whom this book is written was present there and heard how the priest put the young man’s case and praised him. And she was very much moved in her spirit against that young man, and said they had many poor neighbours whom they knew well enough had great need to be helped and relieved, and it should rather be charity to help those whom they well knew to be well-disposed folk and their own neighbours than other strangers whom they did not know, for many speak and seem very fair outwardly to people’s sight – God knows what they are in their souls!
The good man and his wife thought that she spoke very well, and therefore they would give him no charity. At that time the priest was very displeased with this creature, and when he met her alone he repeated how she had hindered him so that he could get no help for the young man, who was a well-disposed man, he thought, and he much commended his behaviour.
The creature said, ‘Sir, God knows what his conduct is, for – as far as I know -1 never saw him. And yet I have an understanding of what his conduct might be, and therefore, sir, if you will act according to my advice and to what I feel, let him choose and help himself as well as he can, and don’t you get involved with him, for he will deceive you in the end.’
The young man was always going to see the priest, flattering him and saying that he had good friends in other places who would help him if they knew where he was – and that in a short time – and also they would thank those people who had supported him in his trouble. The priest, trusting that it would be as this young man told him, willingly lent him silver to help him out. The young man asked the priest to excuse him if he did not see him for two or three days, because he was going a little way away and would return shortly and bring him back his silver, truly. The priest, having confidence in his promise, was quite content, granting him love and leave until the day when he had promised to come back again.
When he was gone, the said creature, having understanding by feeling in her soul that our Lord would show that he was a dishonest man and would not come back any more, she, to prove whether her feeling was tr
ue or false, asked the priest where the young man was, that he had praised so much. The priest said he had gone a little way away, and he trusted that he would come back. She said she supposed that he would not see him any more, and nor did he ever again. And then he regretted that he had not done as she advised.
A short time after this happened, another dishonest rascal, an old man, came to the same priest and offered to sell him a breviary, a good little book. The priest went to the aforesaid creature, asking her to pray for him and find out whether God wanted him to buy the book or not, and while she prayed he encouraged the man as well as he could, and afterwards he came back to this creature and asked how she felt.
‘Sir,’ she said, ‘don’t buy any book from him, because he is not to be trusted, and that you will know soon enough if you get involved with him.’
Then the priest asked the man if he could see the book. The man said he hadn’t got it on him. The priest asked how he came by it. He said he was executor to a priest who had been a relation of his, and who had charged him with disposing of it.
‘Father,’ said the priest (out of respect for the man’s age), ‘why do you offer me this book rather than other men or other priests, when there are many better-off priests in the church than I am, and I know very well that you never had any knowledge of me before this time?’
‘Truly, sir,’ he said, ‘no more I had. All the same, I feel good will towards you, and also it was his will who owned it before that, if I knew any young priest whom I thought sober and well-disposed, he should have this book before any other man, and for a lower price than any other man, so that he might pray for him. And these reasons made me come to you rather than to another man.’
The priest asked where he lived.
‘Sir,’ he said, ‘only five miles from this place in Pentney Abbey.’1
‘I have been there,’ said the priest, ‘and I have not seen you.’
‘No, sir,’ he replied, ‘I have only been there a little while, and now I have an allowance of food there, thanks be to God.’
The priest asked him if he might have a look at the book and see if they might come to an agreement.
He said, ‘Sir, I hope to be here again next week and bring it with me and, sir, I promise that you shall have it before any other man if you like it.’
The priest thanked him for his good will, and so they parted, but the man never came to the priest afterwards, and then the priest well knew that the said creature’s feeling was true.
Chapter 25
Here follows, furthermore, a very notable instance of the creature’s feeling, and it is written down here for convenience, inasmuch as it is, in feeling, like the matters that have been written before, notwithstanding that it happened long after the matters that follow.
It happened in a notable town where there was one parish church and two chapels annexed, the chapels having and administering all sacraments, except christening and purifications, as allowed by the parson, who was a Benedictine monk sent from the house in Norwich, residing with three of his brethren in this notable town already mentioned.1
Through some of the parishioners’ desiring to make the chapels like the parish church, pursuing a bull from the Court of Rome, much litigation and much unhappiness occurred between the prior, who was their parson and curate, and these parishioners who wanted to have fonts and purifications in the chapels, as in the parish church. And especially in the one chapel, which was the larger and finer, they wanted to have a font.2
A bull was pursued, in which a font was granted to the chapel, provided there was no derogation to the parish church. The bull was put in plea, and various days were spent in litigation to prove whether the font, if it were installed, would be derogation to the parish church or not. The parishioners who pursued the matter were in a very strong position and had the help of lords, and also, above all, they were rich and powerful men, respectable merchants, and had plenty of money, which in every necessity will lead to success – it is a pity that money should succeed before truth.
Nevertheless, the Prior who was their parson,3 although he was poor, manfully withstood them, through the help of some of his parishioners who were his friends and loved the honour of their parish church. So long was this matter in plea that it began to irk them on both sides, and it was never any nearer to an end.
Then the matter was put to my Lord of Norwich – Alnwick4 – to see if he might bring it to an end by agreement. He worked very diligently at this matter and, to make the peace, he offered the aforesaid parishioners a great deal of what they wanted, with certain conditions, so that those who held with the parson and with their parish church were very sorry, greatly fearing that those who sued to have a font would gain their desire and so make the chapel equal to the parish church.
Then the priest who afterwards wrote down this book went to the creature whom this treatise mentions, as he had done before in the time of plea, and asked her how she felt in her soul in this matter, whether they should have a font in the chapel or not.
‘Sir,’ said the creature, ‘don’t be afraid, for I understand in my soul that, though they should give a bushel of nobles,5 they should not have it.’
‘Ah, mother,’ said the priest, ‘my Lord Bishop of Norwich has offered it to them, with certain conditions, and they have time to consider whether to say yes or no, and therefore I am afraid they will not refuse it, but be very glad to have it.’
This creature prayed to God that his will might be fulfilled, and inasmuch as she had understood by revelation that they should not have it, she was the more bold to pray our Lord to withstand their intention and to deflate their boasting.
And so, as our Lord willed, they neither obeyed nor liked the conditions which were offered them, for they were completely confident of gaining their object through lordly influence and by process of law; and as God willed, they were disappointed in their intentions, and because they wanted to have everything, they lost everything.
And so – blessed may God be – the parish church still remained in its dignity and its degree as it had done for two hundred years before and more, and the inspiration of our Lord was by experience proved very true and sure in the said creature.
Chapter 26
When the time came1 that this creature should visit those holy places where our Lord lived and died, as she had seen by revelation years before, she asked the parish priest of the town where she was living2 to say on her behalf from the pulpit that, if there were any man or woman who claimed any debt against her husband or her, they should come and speak with her before she went, and she, with God’s help, would settle up with each of them so that they would hold themselves content. And so she did.
Afterwards, she took leave of her husband and of the holy anchorite, who had told her before the sequence of her going and the great distress that she would suffer along the way and, when all her companions abandoned her, how a broken-backed man would escort her on her way in safety, through the help of our Lord. And so it happened indeed, as it shall be written afterwards.
Then she took her leave of Master Robert and asked him for his blessing, and so took leave of other friends. And then she went on her way to Norwich, and offered at the Trinity, and afterwards she went to Yarmouth, and offered at an image of our Lady,3 and there she boarded her ship.
And next day they came to a large town called Zierikzee, where our Lord in his high goodness visited this creature with abundant tears of contrition for her own sins, and sometimes for other people’s sins as well. And especially, she had tears of compassion at the memory of our Lord’s Passion. And she received communion every Sunday, when time and place were convenient for it, with much weeping and violent sobbing, so that many people marvelled and wondered at the great grace that God worked in his creature.
This creature had eaten no meat4 and drunk no wine for four years before she left England, and now her confessor directed her, by virtue of obedience, that she should both eat meat and drink wine, and so she
did for a little while. Afterwards, she prayed to her confessor to excuse her if she ate no meat, and allow her to do as she wished for what time he pleased.
And soon after, because of prompting by some of her companions, her confessor was displeased because she ate no meat, and so were many of the company. And they were most annoyed because she wept so much and spoke all the time about the love and goodness of our Lord, as much at table as in other places. And so they rebuked her shamefully and chided her harshly, and said they would not put up with her as her husband did when she was at home in England.
And she replied meekly to them, ‘Our Lord, Almighty God, is as great a lord here as in England, and I have as great cause to love him here as there – blessed may he be.’
At these words her companions were angrier than they were before, and their anger and unkindness were a matter of great unhappiness to this creature, for they were considered very good men, and she greatly desired their love, if she might have had it to the pleasure of God. And then she said to one of them specially, ‘You cause me much shame and hurt.’
He replied, ‘I pray God that the devil’s death may overtake you soon and quickly,’ and he said many more cruel words to her than she could repeat. And soon after, some of the company she trusted best, and also her own maidservant, said she should not accompany them any longer, and they said they would take her maidservant away from her so that she would not be prostituted in her company. And then one of them, who was looking after her money, very angrily left her a noble to go where she liked and shift for herself as well as she could – for with them, they said, she could stay no longer, and they abandoned her that night.
The Book of Margery Kempe Page 9
