SO many marvels are written of the sweet miracles of Our Lady, that amongst them I scarce know which to choose. Yet, alas! I have not that long leisure to set them forth before you every one. Then must it be with me as with him who walks abroad through summer meadows deep in flowers. Before, behind, on either side, he sees the countless blossoms of the field. Blue, vermeil, gold, they dance upon the green. Then, since he may not gather all, he plucks a rose, a lily, here and there, as he may find them to his hand. So from amongst the number of Our Lady’s lovely deeds I pluck a leaf, one here, one there, and wreathe this artless garland, lest I have naught to cast before her feet.
In days long past — as the scribe hath truly written — there lived in the strong city of Byzantium a certain citizen, who held Our Lady very dear. Rich as he was, and of great worship, because of his wealth and of the praise of men. To keep his station in the eyes of his fellows, he spent his substance so largely, and thereto so wantonly, that in a little while he had wasted all his goods, and naught remained to do but that he must sell his very lands. Yet so rich of heart was this burgess that not poverty even might make him knot his purse. He still kept open house, and gave goodly cheer to all, ever borrowing more and more, spending and vending, wasting and hasting to scatter everything he had. For of poverty he had neither 134 heed nor fear, so long as he might find a man to lend. But at the last he was utterly undone. All his friends passed him by when they saw how deeply he was sunk in debt, and that to no lender did he e’er repay what he owed. For he who borrows, never paying back again, neither seeking from others that which is his due, very quickly loses his credit, yea, though he be the King of France.
The good citizen was sore vexed, and knew not what to do or say, when he found that his creditors pressed him hardly, and that he was wholly disappointed of those friends in whom he put his trust. Sore was his sorrow, deep his distress, and bitter his shame, his wrath and sadness, when by no means whatever might he grant his customary bounty, nor of his charity give alms and benefits to the poor. So long as he was a man of worship, with store of gold and silver, great were his doles to those of low estate. But such was the malice wherewith Dame Fortune pursued him, and such the shame and loss she set upon him, that he had nothing left to give to others, or to keep for himself. And since Dame Fortune looked upon him with a frowning countenance, there was none to welcome him with a smiling face.
Now this unhappy burgess knew not what to do, for some of his acquaintance gazed the other way, whilst men, to whom he had done naught but good, jested upon him openly in the street. Doubtless such is the way of the world to those honest folk who are cast beneath at the turn of Fortune’s wheel. Therefore those to whom he had shown the greatest kindness requited him with the utmost despite, counting him viler than a dog; and those, who in his day of prosperity loved and affected his company, were the very men who now mocked and despised him. Well say the Scriptures, 135Put not your trust in man. For in these days faith is so rare and so forgetful, that the son fails the father in his peril, and the mother may not count upon her maid. Mad is he who strips himself for others, for so soon as he comes before them naked, then they cry, “Beggar, begone!”
When this citizen, who for so long a while had known such great honour, saw himself so scorned, and found that in all the town he had neither kinsman nor friend, he knew now what to say or do, nor whom to take for counsel in his need. So, by the will of God, he turned in his despair to a certain Jew, the richest in all the city. Him he sought out straightway, with a face aflame, and said —
“Master Jew, here is my case. All my daughters, all my sons, all my friends, and, very surely, all of those to whom I have done most good in this world, have failed me utterly and every one. I am stripped of all my substance. Foolish have I been, and unlucky, since I wasted all I had on those very clerks and laymen who desert me now. I am a merchant of great knowledge, and so you will lend me of your treasure, I count to gain so largely, that never shall I have to pray another for a loan; for of your wealth will I make such usage that all will think the more of me thereby.”
“Because you have dealt so generously with others,” answered the Jew, “in this very hour will I lend you freely of my moneys if you can give me pledged or surety for them.”
But the Christian made answer to him —
“Fair, sweet friend, all my kinsfolk and acquaintance have cast me utterly behind them, neither care they for me any more, notwithstanding that they thrive by reason of my gifts and toil. I can offer no kinsman as surety, nor have I a friend 136 in the world. But though I can give neither pledge nor surety, strive how I may, yet I swear to you now on my faith and conscience, that, without fail, I will repay you your loan and your substance on the very day that the debt becomes due.”
“If things are thus, I can lend you nothing,” answered the Jew; “for grievously I doubt that you may not carry out your bargain.”
“Fair, sweet friend,” he made reply, “since then I neither have, nor think to have, a pledge to offer, take now in pledge, I pray you, my Maker, in whom is all my faith, this Jesus Christ, the King of Heaven, the King of kings, the God of gods. If you have not your money returned on the very day that you shall name, I swear to you by God, fair brother Jew, and by His Mother, so tender and so dear, that I will become your villein and your serf, in such wise and fashion as any other slave of yours; so that with a ring about my neck you may sell me in the market-place, just as any brute beast.”
Now in his heart the Jew greatly desired and longed to make this Christian his bondsman. Therefore, laughing, he replied —
“I believe but little that Jesus Christ, the son of Mary, whom our forefathers crucified on a cross of wood, was truly God. But inasmuch as He was doubtless a holy man, and a prophet of mighty name, if you will put Him in pledge in such manner that you will serve me all your life should you fail me in this our bargain, why, I will take your pledge without demur.”
“Fairly, have you spoken,” said he, “by my soul. Let us go straightway to the church of Our Lady, the most glorious Mother of God.”
A great company of Christians and of Jews went with them to the church, and many a clerk and layman was witness to their device and covenant. 137 Without any delay, the wretched merchant kneeled him down before the Statue, whilst the hot tears rushed to his eyes, and over-ran and wetted all his face, because of the poverty which drove him to this deed. The unhappy man knew not what to do in his plight, but he cast his burden upon the Lord, and, weeping, prayed God’s precious Mother that she would deign to set wretchedness and bondage far from him. But very fearful was he, and sore adread in his heart.
When he had prayed his prayer to Our Lady, he sprang lightly to his feet, and said —
“Friend Jew, by my soul see here my Surety. In giving you this Child and this Image, I give you Jesus Christ, Himself, as pledge. He created me, and He fashioned me. ’Tis He Who is my bond for your moneys. A richer pledge you may not think to have, so help me God, now and for evermore.”
He placed the hand of the Child in that of the Jew, and forthwith delivered the pledge and plighted faith. Then, yet upon his knees, most pitifully, with eyes all wet, he cried aloud in the hearing of Christian and of Jew —
“Fair Lord God, most merciful, most mighty and most sure, at the end of this business, I beseech Thee with clasped hands, fair, kindest Father, that by the pleadings of Thy sweet Mother, if it should happen that on the appointed day for any cause I may not give again the wealth I owe the Jew, then of Thy courtesy pay Thou my debt, and without an hour’s delay redeem Thy pledge and faith. For if but one single day I fail to keep faith, then his serf must I be all the days of my life, save only that I break my oath sworn on this Image.”
He rose lightly to his feet, though with a tearful face, and the Jew straightway counted out to him 138 a great sum of money, to deal with in the future as he had dealt with his own. But he had lost the desire to play, for he remembered too plainly that of such mirth comes bitterness. The scalded man hates boiling water, and well he knew, and clearly he perceived, that he who is in rags goes shivering in the wind.
The honest merchant — whom God kept in charge — went forth with a light heart, that leaped and fluttered in his breast, because of the wealth he had in seisin. He bargained for a bark that lay in harbour, and since he had much skill in such business, he stored the ship with divers kinds of merchandise. Then putting his trust in God, and commending body and goods to His keeping, he hoisted sail, and set forth upon the water. He voyaged to divers lands, and trafficked with the merchants thereof to such purpose, that before the year had gone by he was no more in dread of beggary. God increased his store, so that he prospered in every market. But the gains and riches of the merchant in nowise made him grudging of his substance. Freely was given to him, freely he gave to others, for the love of God Who for every man ripens His harvest.
In a short while the merchant became very rich. One market opened another market, and money made more money. So greatly did his substance multiply that at the end, the story tells us, he might not keep count of his wealth. So to set field by field, and house by house, he travelled in many strange lands. One day darkened, and the next day dawned, but he never gave thought to that certain day when he must return to the Jew the loan of which he had made so fruitful a use. He called it not to mind until there was but one single day between him and the appointed time, and as it chanced he bethought him thereof when 139 he was at sea. He well-nigh swooned when the day came to his heart and memory.
“Ah, gentle Lady of the King of Glory! sweet Maid and debonair!” cried he; “unhappy wretch, what can I do?”
So sore was his grief that with clenched hands he beat upon his breast, and presently with locked teeth fell fainting on the deck, where he lay senseless for a great space. The sailors ran to his succour, and, pressing about him, cried out and lamented his evil case, for certainly they deemed that he was dead. Passing heavy were they at this sad mischance, for not one word could they draw from his lips, nor for all their pains might they find in him either pulse or breath. When he was returned a little from his swoon, he addressed himself to prayer, weeping and sighing for a great while, because for grief he found no words to say.
“Alas!” cried he, “alas, my luckless lot! What a besotted merchant have I been! How foully has misfortune stolen upon me! How has the Adversary beguiled me, and snared my thoughts, that I might not better mark the appointed day! Surely on the tables of my heart should it have been written that for pledge I gave Jesus Christ, and His Mother, sweet and dear. Alas! very right is it that I should go heavy, and that my heart should be sick and sad, since never by day nor by night have I taken thought how to return that mighty debt which so affrights me now. Affrighted, alas! much cause have I to fear. Were a bird now to quit the ship, yet should he not wing to Byzantium in thirty days — no, nor in forty. Foul fall the day, for I am quite undone. Alas! for the shame I have brought upon my kin. Very great riches are very little worth, since thus am I snared and taken.”
In this manner the good merchant made his 140 complaint, and with many sighs bewailed his wretched plight. But when he had eased his heart with words, the Holy Spirit wrought upon him , so that his courage came to him again, and he said —
“What is here for tears? Rather should I take comfort in that He, Who hath power over all, is holden as my pledge. Let me place the matter in his mighty hand, nor concern myself overmuch with what is His business more than mine. I owe the money, but He will pay my debt; and thus by His balm shall I be healed. On the morrow must I repay the money that I owe, but there is yet a full night before the money need by counted to the Jew. I will not concern myself greatly with this matter, but commend myself humbly to His will. No other thing is there to do, for none can deliver me from my trouble, save Him alone. He is my Surety, and very surely will He discharge me from this debt, for without Him there is no redemption.”
Then straightway the merchant took a strong, clamped coffer, and sealed within it the debt which he must now restore the Jew. Without waiting for the morrow, he cast it into the sea with his own hand, and with tears commended it to that great Lord and God Who holds every man in His good keeping, and to Whom earth and sea are ministers and servants alike. So He Who is of such high and puissant majesty, that naught He wills to do is burdensome or heavy to Him, was pleased to steer that coffer with its precious load of besants through the waters, so that it made more than a thousand leagues in that one night. Thus with the dawn it drew right to Byzantium, and on the appointed day the casket and the treasure came to the shore.
Now by the will of God it chanced that the rich Jew, who lent the Christian of his moneys, lived in a fair dwelling near by the sea. A certain 141 servant of his rose early from his bed to walk on the shore in the cool summer dawn, and spied the casket, which had but just drawn to land. So, without taking off his raiment, he sprang into the sea that he might lay hold upon it; but he was not able, for the coffer tossed grievously whenever he would make it his own. Very covetous was the varlet of this coffer, yet might he never set his hand upon it. For the casket moved warily, as though it would say, “Go your road, since in nowise am I yours.”
So presently the servant sought his lord, and returned with him to the shore. And forthwith the coffer drew to the very feet of the Jew, and seemed to him to say —
“Fair Sir Jew, receive your own. By me God redeems the merchant from his debt, and henceforth he is free, quite free of you.”
Then the Jew entered swiftly within his door, bearing the casket with him, and when he had counted over its great riches, he hid the treasure in a privy place at the foot of his bed, so that none might know of the matter. Moreover, he found within a certain letter news that, very soon, this merchant, who so far had voyaged in so many lands, would seek Byzantium in ships laden with tissues and broideries and all manner of stuffs and merchandise. So the friends and acquaintance of the merchant rejoiced greatly at his prosperity, and the whole city welcomed him with mirth and festival. All men made much of his home-coming, and clerk and layman joined alike in the feast.
When the Jew heard the noise of the joyous greeting vouchsafed to the citizen, he rose up quickly, and sought him out without delay. They spoke at great length together, and many words passed between the twain. At the last the Jew made mention of his money, as if he sought to 142 know when payment should be made. For presently in his merry talk, yet laughing, he took the Christian by the hand, and wagging his head from side to side, said —
“Oh, faithful Christian! oh, faithful Christian!”
Thereat the burgess began to smile, and made reply that he would learn the meaning of those words.
“By the Law, it means that I have lent you monies in heaped-up measure from my wealth, to be repaid me on a day now gone. Since you have failed in bond and faith, now holds the bargain, that should you break your covenant, though but for one single day, then all the years of your life must you labour as my serf. If now you throw me back your bond, then I must reckon your Holy Faith and your plighted word as worth just two grains of dust upon a balance.”
Then he, whose only hope was in God, made answer to the Jew, and said —
“I owe you nothing, since all that was your due has been paid to the uttermost doit.”
Very cunning was this Jew; therefore he replied —
“Many an honest man was witness to the loan, but what witness can you bring to the payment of the debt? There is little new in such a plea as yours.Medieval Romance and Legend, Eugene Mason, Introduction e-book online text on Elfinspell.com
“Right easily can I find proof of quittance, and to spare. All this would make me fear, indeed, were not such a mighty Surety at my side. But so you will come with me to the church, where my pledge was taken, very surely will I show you proof of the redemption of my bond.”
So they, and a great company with them, went to the minster, which was filled altogether with the press.
Then the citizen, hoping all things of his God, 143 and rooted deeply in his trust, bowed himself down and clasped hands right humbly to the floor beneath the Image of Our Lady. From his very heart, with all his soul, he prayed and required of her that she would obtain of her sweet Son to hearken to his prayer, and his words were broken by his sighs. Afterwards he cried with a clear voice in the hearing of them all, and said —
“Lord Jesus, so truly as Thou art the very Son of God, witness for me to this Hebrew of the truth as it is known to Thee. Very God of Very God, exalt now Thine honour, and for the glory of Thy Name make clear whether I have discharged me of this debt or not.”
Then the Image made answer in these very words —
“It is a true testimony that to the appointed day this Jew has been paid in full whatsoever you have had of him. In proof whereof the casket yet remains hid in a privy place beneath his bed, from whence he took the debt I paid him in your place.”
When the Jew heard this marvel he was filled with confusion, and was greatly astonied, so that he knew not what to say, nor what to do. So by the grace and loving kindness of the Holy Spirit that very day he was baptized, and became a christened man, nor did he ever after waver in that faith.
So every year it was the gracious custom of all good citizens to keep this wonder in remembrance with dances and midnight revelry, with feast and high solemnity. And this holy day was observed in Byzantium, the mighty city, which Constantine, the noble Emperor, afterwards called Constantinople.
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