The Married Priest

By Meriadech.



_Of a village clerk who being at Rome and believing that his wife was

dead became a priest, and was appointed cure of his own town, and when

he returned, the first person he met was his wife._





In the year '50 (*) just passed, the clerk of a village in the diocese

of Noyon, that he might gain the pardons, which as every one knows were

then given at Rome (**), set o t in company with many respectable people

of Noyon, Compeigne, and the neighbouring places.



(*) 1450



(**) Special indulgences were granted that year on account

of the Jubilee



But, before leaving, he carefully saw to his private affairs, arranged

for the support of his wife and family, and entrusted the office of

sacristan, which he held, to a young and worthy clerk to hold until his

return.



In a fairly brief space of time, he and his companions arrived at Rome,

and performed their devotions and their pilgrimage as well as they knew

how. But you must know that our clerk met, by chance, at Rome, one of

his old school-fellows, who was in the service of a great Cardinal, and

occupied a high position, and who was very glad to meet his old friend,

and asked him how he was. And the other told him everything--first of

all that he was, alas! married, how many children he had, and how that

he was a parish clerk.



"Ah!" said his friend, "by my oath! I am much grieved that you are

married."



"Why?" asked the other.



"I will tell you," said he; "such and such a Cardinal has charged me to

find him a secretary, a native of our province. This would have suited

you, and you would have been largely remunerated, were it not that your

marriage will cause you to return home, and, I fear, lose many benefits

that you cannot now get."



"By my oath!" said the clerk, "my marriage is no great consequence,

for--to tell you the truth--the pardon was but an excuse for getting out

of the country, and was not the principal object of my journey; for

I had determined to enjoy myself for two or three years in travelling

about, and if, during that time, God should take my wife, I should only

be too happy. So I beg and pray of you to think of me and to speak well

for me to this Cardinal, that I may serve him; and, by my oath, I

will so bear myself that you shall have no fault to find with me; and,

moreover, you will do me the greatest service that ever one friend did

another."



"Since that is your wish," said his friend, "I will oblige you at once,

and will lodge you too if you wish."



"Thank you, friend," said the other.



To cut matters short, our clerk lodged with the Cardinal, and wrote and

told his wife of his new position, and that he did not intend to return

home as soon as he had intended when he left. She consoled herself, and

wrote back that she would do the best she could.



Our worthy clerk conducted himself so well in the service of the

Cardinal, and gained such esteem, that his master had no small regret

that his secretary was incapable of holding a living, for which he was

exceedingly well fitted.



Whilst our clerk was thus in favour, the cure of his village died, and

thus left the living vacant during one of the Pope's months. (*)

The Sacristan who held the place of his friend who had gone to Rome,

determined that he would hurry to Rome as quickly as he could, and do

all in his power to get the living for himself. He lost no time, and in

a few days, after much trouble and fatigue, found himself at Rome, and

rested not till he had discovered his friend--the clerk who served the

Cardinal.



After mutual salutations, the clerk asked after his wife, and the other,

expecting to give him much pleasure and further his own interests in

the request he was about to make, replied that she was dead--in which

he lied, for I know that at this present moment (**) she can still worry

her husband.



(*) During eight months of the year, the Pope had the right

of bestowing all livings which became vacant.



(**) That is when the story was written.



"Do you say that my wife is dead?" cried the clerk. "May God pardon her

all her sins."



"Yes, truly," replied the other; "the plague carried her off last year,

along with many others."



He told this lie, which cost him dear, because he knew that the clerk

had only left home on account of his wife, who was of a quarrelsome

disposition, and he thought the most pleasant news he could bring was

to announce her death, and truly so it would have been, but the news was

false.



"And what brings you to this country?" asked the clerk after many and

various questions.



"I will tell you, my friend and companion. The cure of our town is dead;

so I came to you to ask if by any means I could obtain the benefice. I

would beg of you to help me in this matter. I know that it is in your

power to procure me the living, with the help of monseigneur, your

master."



The clerk, thinking that his wife was dead, and the cure of his native

town vacant, thought to himself that he would snap up this living, and

others too if he could get them. But, all the same, he said nothing to

his friend, except that it would not be his fault if the other were not

cure of their town,--for which he was much thanked.



It happened quite otherwise, for, on the morrow, our Holy Father, at the

request of the Cardinal, the master of our clerk, gave the latter the

living.



Thereupon this clerk, when he heard the news, came to his companion, and

said to him,



"Ah, friend, by my oath, your hopes are dissipated, at which I am much

vexed."



"How so?" asked the other.



"The cure of our town is given," he said, "but I know not to whom.

Monseigneur, my master, tried to help you, but it was not in his power

to accomplish it."



At which the other was vexed, after he had come so far and expended so

much. So he sorrowfully took leave of his friend, and returned to his

own country, without boasting about the lie he had told.



But let us return to our clerk, who was as merry as a grig at the news

of the death of his wife, and to whom the benefice of his native town

had been given, at the request of his master, by the Holy Father, as

a reward for his services. And let us record how he became a priest at

Rome, and chanted his first holy Mass, and took leave of his master for

a time, in order to return and take possession of his living.



When he entered the town, by ill luck the first person that he chanced



to meet was his wife, at which he was much astonished I can assure you,

and still more vexed.



"What is the meaning of this, my dear?" he asked. "They told me you were

dead!"



"Nothing of the kind," she said. "You say so, I suppose, because you

wish it, as you have well proved, for you have left me for five years,

with a number of young children to take care of."



"My dear," he said, "I am very glad to see you in good health, and I

praise God for it with all my heart. Cursed be he who brought me false

news."



"Amen!" she replied.



"But I must tell you, my dear, that I cannot stay now; I am obliged to

go in haste to the Bishop of Noyon, on a matter which concerns him; but

I will return to you as quickly as I can."



He left his wife, and took his way to Noyon; but God knows that all

along the road he thought of his strange position.



"Alas!" he said, "I am undone and dishonoured. A priest! a clerk! and

married! I suppose I am the first miserable wretch to whom that ever

occurred!"



He went to the Bishop of Noyon, who was much surprised at hearing his

case, and did not know what to advise him, so sent him back to Rome.



When he arrived there, he related his adventure at length to his master,

who was bitterly annoyed, and on the morrow repeated it to our Holy

Father, in the presence of the Sacred College and all the Cardinals.



So it was ordered that he should remain priest, and married, and cure

also; and that he should live with his wife as a married man, honourably

and without reproach, and that his children should be legitimate and not

bastards, although their father was a priest. Moreover, that if it was

found he lived apart from his wife, he should lose the living.



Thus, as you have heard, was this gallant punished for believing the

false news of his friend, and was obliged to go and live in his own

parish, and, which was worse, with his wife, with whose company he would

have gladly dispensed if the Church had not ordered it otherwise.





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