HERE FOLLOWS THE PHYSICIAN’S TALE: Once there was a knight, as Livy tells us, named Virginius, very honorable and worthy, with many friends, and very wealthy. This knight and his wife had one daughter, but no other children, during their lives. This girl surpassed all others in exceptional beauty, for Nature, with sovereign care, had endowed her with supreme excellence, as if to say: “See, I, Nature, can create and adorn a creature thus when I so desire. Who can counterfeit my work? Not Pygmalion, even if he forged and beat, or engraved, or painted forever. And I dare say that Appelles and Zeuxis would also work in vain at their engraving, painting, forging, or beating, if they presumed to counterfeit my work. For He who is the Chief Creator has made me his Vicar General, to form and paint earthly creatures just as I wish, and everything under the waxing and waning moon is in my care. And in my own work I do not need to ask anyone’s advice; my Lord and I are in complete agreement. I created this girl out of worship for my Lord, just as I do with all my other creatures, whatever their complexions or figures.” It seems to me that Nature would speak in this fashion.
This girl in whom Nature took such delight was fourteen years old. Just as Nature can paint a lily white or a rose red, so she had painted the lovely body of this noble girl before birth, wherever such colors were appropriate, while Phoebus had dyed her long hair so that it resembled his burnished sunbeams. And if her beauty was extraordinary, a thousand times more so was her virtue. In her there was lacking no quality which deserves praise for discretion. She was chaste in spirit as well as in body, and she grew into a virgin, humble, abstinent, temperate, patient, and moderate both in manner and dress. She was always discreet in answering; though I’ll venture that she was as wise as Pallas, and her eloquence was always womanly and plain, she used no counterfeit terms to appear wise, but spoke in accordance with her station, and all her words, great and small, were proper and courteous. She was modest with a maiden’s modesty, constant in affection, and always industrious to avoid idleness. Bacchus had no power at all over her mouth; wine given to the young increases Venus’ influence, just as when poeple feed a fire with oil or grease. Because of her natural purity, she frequently pretended to be ill in order to avoid company where there was likely to be talk of folly, as is the case at feasts, revels, and dances, which are the occasions for wantonness. Such things make children become ripe and bold too early, as anyone can see—a thing that has always been very dangerous. For a girl learns about boldness all too soon, when she becomes a woman.
You governesses, who in your old age have supervision over the daughters of lords, do not take offense at my words. Remember, you are placed in charge of the daughters of lords for one of only two reasons: either because you have retained your virtue, or else because you have fallen into such frailty that you are very familiar with the old dance and have decided to give up such misconduct forever. Therefore, for the sake of Christ, be sure that you are not lax in teaching virtue to your charges. A man who has stolen venison, but has given up all his evil ways and his old trade, can guard a forest better than any other man. Now guard your charges well, for you can do it if you want to. See that you do not countenance any kind of vice, or you will be damned for your wicked intentions; for whoever does so is surely a traitor. And take heed of what I say: of all betrayals the most evil occurs when a man betrays an innocent.
You fathers and you mothers, also; whether you have one child or more, their supervision is your full responsibility while they are under your control. Beware that they do not perish because of the poor example you set them or because of your negligence in scolding them; for I dare say that if they die you shall pay dearly for it. Under a soft and negligent shepherd, many a sheep and lamb have been devoured by the wolf. Let this one example suffice for the present, for I must turn again to my story.
This girl, who is the subject of this tale, so conducted herself that she needed no governess; for she was so prudent and generous that in her manner of living all girls could read, as in a book, every good word or deed which befits a virtuous maiden. As a result, the fame of both her beauty and her excellence spread far and wide. Everyone who admired virtue in that land, except Envy, who regrets anyone else’s prosperity and rejoices in his woes and misfortunes (so St. Augustine describes it), sang her praises.
One day this girl went to a temple in the town with her dear mother, as is the custom for young girls. Now there was then a judge in this town who was governor of that region. And it so happened that this judge cast his eyes upon the girl, appraising her rapidly as she passed by where he stood. At once his heart and his feelings changed, he was so taken by her beauty, and he said quietly to himself, “This girl must be mine, in spite of any man!”
At once the devil ran into his heart and taught him quickly that he could win the girl to his purpose by trickery. For, truly, it seemed to the judge that he would be unable to accomplish his purpose either by force or bribery, for she had many powerful friends, and also she was confirmed in such steadfast righteousness that he knew he could never persuade her to bodily sin. Therefore, after great deliberation, he sent for a fellow in town whom he knew to be cunning and bold. The judge told his tale to this fellow secretly, and made him swear to tell no one, under the penalty of losing his head. When the wicked plan was agreed to, the judge was happy and treated the fellow generously, giving him many precious and expensive gifts.
When the conspiracy had been planned point by point, to the end that the judge’s lust should be subtly satisfied, as you shall soon hear fully, the fellow, who was named Claudius, went home. The false judge, whose name was Appius (that was his name, for this is no fable; rather, it is widely known as a recognized historical fact; the moral of it is true beyond doubt)—this false judge bestirred himself to hasten his pleasure as much as possible. So, it happened one day soon afterwards, so the story says, that this false judge was sitting in his court, as was his custom, giving his decision on various cases.
The wicked fellow came rushing in and said: “Lord, if it be your will, give me justice in this pitiful complaint which I make against Virginius; and if he says it is not so, I will prove by reliable witnesses that what my bill of complaint sets forth is true.”
“In the absence of Virginius,” the judge answered, “I cannot give a definite decision on this matter. Have him called, and I shall gladly hear the case. You shall have only justice here; no partiality.”
Virginius came to learn why the judge wanted him, and the cursed complaint was immediately read. Its contents were as you shall hear: “To you, my dear lord Appius, your poor servant Claudius wishes to show how a knight named Virginius, against the law, against all equity, and directly against my wishes, holds my servant, who is my rightful slave, and who was stolen from my house one night when she was very young. I will prove this by witnesses, lord, so that you will have no doubts. She is not his daughter, no matter what he says. Therefore, I pray you, my lord judge, give back my servant to me, if that is your will.” See, this was the complete text of the complaint.
Virginius began to stare at the fellow before he had even finished his complaint. He would have contested the case as a knight should, showing by many witnesses that everything claimed by his opponent was false, but the accursed judge would not wait at all, or hear a single word from Virginius. He immediately handed down his decision, saying, “I now decree that this fellow shall have his servant; you shall no longer keep her in your house. Go bring her here and put her into our keeping. This fellow shall have his servant; that is my judgment.”
When the worthy knight, Virginius, had been ordered by the decision of the judge, Appius, to give up his dear daughter to the judge to live in lechery, he went home, sat down in his hall, and immediately sent for his beloved daughter. Then, with a face as deathlike as cold ashes, he gazed upon her humble face. A father’s pity struck through his heart, but he would not swerve from his purpose.
“Daughter,” he said, “Virginia to call you by name, there are two ways that you may take; death or dishonor. Alas, that I was born! For never have you deserved to die by knife or sword. Oh, dear daughter, beloved of my life, in whose raising I have taken such pleasure that you were never out of my thoughts! Oh, daughter, who are my final joy in life, and my final woe; oh, gem of chastity, take your death in patience, for that is my decision. For love and not for hate, you must die; my poor hand must cut off your head. Alas, that ever Appius saw you! His false judgment today was because of that”—and he told her the whole story, as you heard it before; there is no need to repeat it.
“Oh, mercy, dear father!” the girl said, and with these words put both arms around his neck, as was her custom. The tears rushed from her eyes, and she said: “Good father, must I die? Is there no mercy? Is there no remedy?”
“No, verily, my dear daughter,” he said.
“Then give me time, dear father,” she said, “to lament my death a little while. For indeed, Jeptha gave his daughter time to lament before he killed her, alas! And, God knows, her sin was only that she was the first to run to meet her father and welcome him fittingly.” With these words she immediately fainted. When she had recovered, she rose and said to her father: “God be thanked that I shall die a virgin! Kill me before I am dishonored. Do your will with your child, in God’s name!”
After these words she begged many times that he would smite gently with his sword; then she fell down in a swoon. Her father, with a very sorrowful heart and spirit, cut off her head. He grasped it by the hair and took it to the judge, who still sat in judgment in the court. When the judge saw the head, so the story says, he commanded that Virginius be taken and hanged at once. But, immediately, a thousand people burst in to save the knight, out of pity, for the wicked treachery was known. Because of the manner of the fellow’s complaint, the people had quickly suspected that Appius had conspired in this case, for they knew very well that he was lecherous. Therefore, they took him into custody and cast him into prison, where he killed himself. And Claudius, who was Appius’ servant, was condemned to be hanged from a tree, but Virginius, out of pity, begged that he be exiled instead, for he had truly been misguided. The others who were involved in this wickedness, great and small, were hanged.
From this story, you can see how sin is repaid. Beware, for no one knows what man of any rank God will smite, or in what way the worm of conscience will show the terror of a wicked life, even though it is kept so secret that no one knows of it but him and God. For no matter whether he is an ignorant man or a learned man, he does not know how soon he shall be brought to fear. Therefore, I advise you to accept this counsel: forsake sin, before sin destroys you. HERE ENDS THE PHYSICIAN’S TALE.