The Story teller (1850)/The Three Beggars

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THE THREE BEGGARS,

Three blind beggars were on their way from Compiegne, to seek alms in the neighbourhood. They kept the high road to Senlis, and walked at a great pace, each holding a cup and stick in his hand. A young ecclesiastic, well mounted, who was riding towards Compiegne, and attended by a valet on horseback, was struck at a distance with their steady and rapid strides.

"Those fellows," said he, "for men who appear blind, make very firm steps. I'll endeavour to find them out, and see if they are not impostors."

Accordingly, as he came near them, and as the beggars, hearing the trampling of the horses' feet, had ranged themselves in a line to ask for charity, he called to them, and pretending to give them some money, but in reality giving them nothing, said:—

"There is a besant; it is intended for you all three; and you; will divide it between you."

"Yes, your reverence; and may God bless you in return for it."

Although no one of them received the money, yet each was confident his comrade had got it. Thus, after many thanks and good wishes to the horseman, they resumed their march, full of spirits; but at the same time slackening their pace.

The churchman feigned also to proceed on his journey; but at some distance he alighted, and delivering his horse to the care of his valet, directed him to wait his arrival at the gates of Compiegne. He then gently approached the beggars, and followed them, to watch the issue of the adventure.

When they no longer heard the noise of horses, the leader of this little band halted.

"Comrades," said he, "we have made a good day's work; and I think we had best return to Compiegne, and spend the money this good Christian hath given us. It is a long time since we have had a carousal; and now we have enough to enjoy ourselves completely, let us think of nothing but pleasure."

On their arrival in town, they heard a cry of "Good wine!—wine of Soisons!—wine of Auxerre!—fish and good fare! Walk in gentlemen; pray walk in."

They would not go any farther, but entered the first house; and after having cautioned the people not to judge of their means by their outward appearance, (in the tone of men who derive eonfidence from the weight of their purse,) they desired that they might be served quickly and well.

Nicholas (for that was the name of the landlord) being used sometimes to see persons of their vocation spend more than such as appear to be much more in affluent circumstances, received them respectfully. He showed them into his best dining-room; begged they would be seated, and order what they liked best; assuring them that there was nothing in Compiegne but what he could set before them, and in a style that would give them perfect satisfaetion.

They desired that plenty of good things might be got ready; and instantly, master, waiter, maid, all in the house set about it. A neighbour was even sent for to assist.

At length, by virtue of several hands and good speed, they eontrived to serve up a good dinner of five dishes; and immediately the beggars sat down to it, laughing, singing, drinking to each other, and diverting themselves with elumsy jokes on the simple traveller who was at the expense of the feast.

He had followed them with his valet to the inn, and was within hearing of the merriment. He even resolved, that he might not lose any part of it, to dine and sup in a snug manner with the landlord. The beggars all this while oeeupied the best room, and were waited on like noblemen. Their mirth was thus prolonged till the night was pretty far advanced, when, to make a suitable elose to so jovial a day, they each called for a bed, and went to rest.

The next morning the landlord, who wanted to get rid of them, sent his servant to call them up. When they were come down stairs, he made out their bill, which amounted to tenpence. That was the moment the mischievous churchman so impatiently expected. To enjoy the transaction more at his ease, he came and posted himself in a corner of the room, but without showing himself, lest his presence might be a restraint on the guests.

"Master," says the blind men to the landlord, "we have a besant; take your account, and give us our ehange."

He holds out his hand to receive it; and, as no one offers it him, he asks them again, when each says, "It is not I."

The landlord then gets into a passion. "So, gentlemen vagrants, you think I am to serve here as a butt for your diversion. Be so good as to end all this mockery, and pay me immediately my tenpence, otherwise I'll give you all three a drubbing."

They then began to inquire of each other for the pieee of money—to suspect each other's honesty—to call names—to quarrel; till at length such an uproar and confusion ensued, that the landlord, after giving each of them a box on the ear, called his servant to come down with two good sticks.

The ecclesiastic all this while kept laughing in his hiding place till he was ready to fall into convulsions. But when he found the affair was becoming serious, and heard them talk of sticks, he came forward, and with an air of surprise, asked the cause of the quarrel. "Sir, here are three knaves who came yesterday to consume my provisions; and now I ask them for my due, they have the insolence to mock me. But, by all that's sacred, they shall not get off in that manner, and before they go out———."

"Softly, softly, master Nicholas," said the churchman, "these poor men have not wherewithal to pay you; and, in that case, they deserve rather your pity than your resentment. How much does their bill amount to?"

"Tenpence."

"What! is it for so paltry a sum that you raise all this disturbance? Come, make yourselves easy; I will take it upon myself. And, for my part, what am I to pay you?"

"Fivepence, Sir."

"That's enough. I shall pay you fifteen-pence; now let these unfortunate men go; and know that to harass the poor is a sin of the first magnitude."

The blind men, who were terrified at the apprehension of the bastinado, made their escape with all possible haste; while Nicholas, who had reckoned on losing his tenpence, (being delighted to find a person to pay it,) launched out into the most flattering encomiums on the churchman,

"What a good man!" cried he; "that is the kind of priests we should have, and then they would be respected. But, unfortunately, there are few such! Be assured, Sir, so handsome an action will not go unrewarded. You will prosper in the world, take my word for it; and will find the good effects of your generosity."

All that the crafty traveller had been saying to his host, was but a fresh piece of roguery on his part; for, in luring the innkeeper with such ostentation of generosity, he only meant to trick him as he had already done the beggars.

Just at that moment the parish-bell was ringing to prayers. He asked who was to perform the service; they told him it was their parson.

"As he is your pastor, master Nicholas," he further said, "you are most probably acquainted with him?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And if he would engage to pay the fifteen-pence that I owe you, would you not acknowledge us quit?"

"Undoubtedly, Sir, if it were thirty, and you desired it."

"Well, then, come along with me to the church, and we will speak to him."

They went out together; but first the eeelestiastie direeted his valet to saddle the horses, and to keep them in readiness.

The priest, as they entered the church, had just put on his sacerdotal habit, and was going to read prayers.

"This will keep us very long," said the traveller to his host; "I have not time to wait, but must proceed immediately upon my journey. It will satisfy you, I should imagine, to have the parson's word for the money?"

Nieholas having nodded assent, the other went up to the parson, and dexterously slipping into his hand twelve deniers, said:—

"Sir, you will pardon my coming so near the pulpit to speak to you; but much eeremony need not be observed between persons of the same condition. I am travelling through your town, and lodged last night at one of your parishioners', whom in all probability you know, and whom you may see hard by. He is a well-meaning man, honest, and entirely exempt from vice; but, unfortunately, his head is not so sound as his heart; his brain is somewhat cracked. Last night one of his fits of madness prevented us all from sleeping. He is a good deal better, thank God, this morning; nevertheless, as his head is still affeeted, and full of religion, he begged we would eonduct him to ehureh, and that he might hear you say a prayer, that the Lord may, in his goodness, restore him to perfect health." "Most eheerfully," answered the parson. He then turned to his parishioner, and said to him, "Friend, wait till I have done the serviee, when I'll take care that you shall have what you desire."

Nicholas, who thought this an ample assuranee of what he went for, said no more; but attended the traveller back to his inn, wished him a good journey, and then returned to the ehureh to receive his payment from the parson.

The latter, as soon as he had performed the service, came with his stole and book towards the innkeeper.

"Friend," said he, "go down upon your knees."

The other, surprised at this preamble, observed that there was no occasion for such ceremony in receiving fifteen-pence.

"Truly they are not mistaken," said the parson to himself, "this man cannot be in his right senses." Then assuming a tone of soft insinuation, "Come, my good friend," said he, "place your trust in God; he will have pity on your eondition."

At the same time he puts the Bible on the other's head, and begins his prayer. Nicholas, in anger, pushes away the book; declares he cannot stay to be trifled with, guests being waiting for him at his house; that he wants his fifteen-pence, and has no occasion for prayers.

The priest, irritated at this, calls to his congregation, as they were going out of church, and desires them to seize the man, who was raving.

"No, no! I am not mad; and, by St. Corneille, you shall not trick me in this manner. You engaged to pay me, and I will not leave this place till I get my money."

"Seize him! seize him!" cried the priest.

They accordingly fastened upon the poor devil; one taking hold of his arms, another of his legs, a third clasping him round the middle, while a fourth exhorted him to be composed. He makes violent efforts to get out of their clutches, swears and foams with rage, like one possessed,—but all in vain; for the parson puts the stole round his neck, and reads quickly his prayer from beginning to end, without excusing him a single word: after which he sprinkles him copiously with holy water, bestows on him a few benedictions, and lets him loose.

The unlucky wight saw elearly that he had been made a dupe. He went home, overwhelmed with shame and vexation at the loss of his fifteen-pence; but then he had in lieu of them, got a prayer and benedietion.