In a southern land lived a proud count so powerful that even kings paid him tribute. He was also highly educated, and he had studied all of the seven liberal arts 31. He had a wife, but there were no children.
Not far from his lodge lived in a forest a hermit whose pious and virtuous way of life was generally esteemed. The count loved him very much, and every Saturday invited him to his table and graced him with all good things while he believed that this interceding of this pious man would bring him blessings.
Once the hermit found himself again invited to dinner, the talk came to the violence and power of God. The hermit encouraged the count to be gentle and modest, as for God, it was easy to make the rich poor. “I believe that God can take my wealth if he wants, but not in a short time; my property stretches over a wide area.” “As rich as you may be,” replied the pious man, “God can make you even today to the most miserable beggar.” “He can kill me,” argued the count, “or take away my power of reason, but never will I believe that he can make me a beggar today.”
Now the hermit became angry, sprang up and said, “Under no circumstances can I be your guest any longer while you remain trapped in such disbelief. But I would wish that God quickly shows you what he can do.” With that, he left.
It is in some places the custom to take a bath at noon, and polite people had a habit of bathing alone with only one servant present to prepare the bath. The count also went to bathe on the same day that the talk had taken place with the hermit. His servants waited outside; only one stayed with him to help him.
As the count said that there was enough wood on the fire, the remaining servant also went outside. After a while, the count became tired and called his servant to wash him. He received no answer so he called louder, but still no one answered. He then became angry and, grabbing the water barrel, threw it against the door so hard that it broke in pieces. At the same time, he yelled loudly for his servants. No one appeared and no one could be heard.
In the meantime, he was so tired from the bath and from yelling that he could not remain in the bath chamber any longer. He stood up and went naked outside. In the anteroom, no one was to be seen and as he began to freeze, he had to bring himself to go home. On the way, he found a leper with two torn cloaks. The rich man asked him to give up one. He received the cloak, which only barely covered him, and then went on to his hall.
He saw many of his people, but none of them bothered with him. Soon hunger began to plague him, which seemed a wonder to him as he had eaten only recently. He saw that an all kinds of food was being carried into the hall, but as he neared the door to enter he was pushed so strongly away that he fell to the floor and received a bleeding wound.
He now asked what was going on inside, and received the answer that the count was sitting at the table and did not want strangers to disturb him during the meal. This gave him the greatest astonishment, as he of course knew that no one but he himself was the lord of the lodge.
Finally, he managed to enter the hall where he sat down in the straw at the outer end. At the place where he would otherwise sit he saw a gentleman sitting who was being served by everyone; next to him sat his own wife. Only then was it clear to him the reason why he had to atone. He left the lodge and went into the forest to find the hermit.
When he found him, he told the hermit what had befallen him. The hermit thanked God and spoke, “Now you probably understand that God can make you into a beggar whenever he wants! I cannot help you; go home to the lodge. The count who now presides there will help you prove yourself if he is of a mind.”
When the count again reached the hall the other count was already in his bedchamber. The real master of the house hurried to the hall and begged to be let in. After a long dispute, the door was opened and he was directed to a straw storage room. The woman of the house was already in bed, but a representative of the count was still awake and joked with his comrades. After a while, he asked who sat there at the door. “I believed that I was the count of the castle and she was my wife. But now I don’t know how the matter will be.”
The other man said, “Of course you are the count of this lodge, but you’ve earned a severe penalty by the blasphemy that you were guilty of this morning. Now take your wife and your possessions, but I must return home because I am the angel Gabriel and can no longer remain here. Take care in the future to blaspheme God, and have no doubt about his powers.”
After saying these words, the angel rose to heaven and the count resumed his rightful place.
In a beautiful castle lived a powerful and distinguished lord who owned large lands and rich treasures. He held no higher rank than knighthood but by his power and wealth, he thought himself to be the first of his class.
His servants, who he kept at his own expense, were in number no fewer than that of a king’s retinue, and he was royally equipped with weapons and clothes. By his wife–who, as did he, came from noble lineage–he had a daughter who had grown to be a young maiden. Although this man who, as already said, held a powerful position he carried himself more highly than needed and credited the honor that he held to his own efforts.
Near the castle was a Dominican monastery in which exceptional monks lived, one of whom among them distinguished himself through a gift for oratory. He also followed the good teachings that he gave others by his own moral conduct, as he was filled with holy enthusiasm and tireless service to God.
It came to be as the Festival of The Holy Trinity was nearing that the knight told the monk through a messenger that he wished to hear the sermon in the castle chapel on the holy day. And since the rules of the order allowed it, the monk eagerly agreed. On that day, he held the agreed sermon about God’s honor and power. “Heaven, earth and all things belonging to them serve his power; the crowns of kings the majesty and splendor of lords and all of their honor, worthiness and power lie like a toy ball in the hand of the Creator. From one, whether living or dead, he can by his just will rob their riches and at his wish give it to another, when and how he will.”
The lord and his entourage listened to this sermon. When the service was ended, he invited the brother to his table, asking him to sit to his left. As the conversation progressed and the knight’s spirit was raised by food and drink, he turned with a cynical smile to the monk and said, “You spoke excellently, my brother, but you went–as it also appeared at times to others–a bit too sharply into the subject.”
“That would not have been good,” replied the preacher, “if I had spoken more boldly than needed. But on what do you base your assertion?” “I base it on the fact,” said the knight, “that in an overbearing way you asserted that God may rob a man of his entire honor in the blink of an eye without taking his life.
”The monk asked, “Are you serious?”
“I will add only one thing,” continued the knight, “and that is if you can justify your words, then how is God able to make me poor in the blink of an eye while I live and can reason? If he takes my throne and the castle in which I sit with all of my possessions, I still have in all four directions so much land that I could keep myself as I wish and still appear as a contented man.”
The priest looked down at the table with concern and said, “May it please the all-powerful God that he breaks your cursed pride and evil disbelief so that your heart learns who he is and how impoverished you are before his blessed countenance! And so will it happen; if he still finds in you a good place, he will make you aware of your injustice. But if you are a son of corruption, then your body and soul together be lost. But this only the God who created me knows: that today you’ve so injured the true belief so that I can no longer partake of your repast.” The priest then stood and went back to his monastery.
The rich man remained behind and overindulged in drink. The monk complained of his loss of way and begged that the savior’s mercy would find him and better him already in this life so that he must not wait for the penalty of the latest judgment. And as you now will hear, this was granted by godly kindness.
One day, as is the custom of genteel persons, the man had a morning bath prepared for himself. When it was finished he went to the bath chamber to enjoy its warmth, and as he wished for no one to be there while he bathed, sending all of his servants out of the chamber.
So the servants went out into the open hallway and waited there with the man’s followers who were accustomed to accompanying the man on a walk following his bath. When the man felt that he had perspired sufficiently he knocked, as was his manner so that those outside would give him a helping hand.
Against expectations, the whole house was empty. In spite of his strong knocking and pounding, no one appeared. Now he called loudly and asked what the scoundrels were up to that they paid no heed to their duties. But that brought no greater help than if no one heard his cries.
Tired from the heat and anger he walked from the stone floor and began again to call and swear, but no one came. He eavesdropped quietly to see if he could hear something from his people and sat a while naked on the step, with no clue as to what he should do; his pride made him reluctant to leave the house unclothed as he was otherwise used to going out in his bathrobe.
Eventually he became tired and hungry,as he had planned to dine following his bath. So although unhappily he chose to leave the bath chamber and go into the hallway. No one was there, and his clothes were also gone; only a half-torn robe was there as a last resort for covering his body.
He walked for a while until he began to freeze. His voice was not friendly and he was not given to being sympathetic so that he became filled with anger and revenge toward his subjects. He left the bathhouse with dark furrowed brows and a swaggering gait and returned to his castle. Here, he met some of his people and asked angrily where the damned scoundrels were who had deserted him.
“Listen to this!” replied one of those being addressed. “Does one speak so of honest people? How is it that you, a poor and wretched slave, can revile the retinue of our lord? Get out of here, you poor beggar!” With that, the man did a dance with his staff on the true lord’s back and told him to go to the devil.
The lord sought a way to escape the beating, thinking that the servant must be crazed if he dared to beat him; still he hadn’t realized the cause of his fate, wondering to no small degree that no one present found it unusual for him to be beaten.
He then walked further and met others whom he also took to task, for which they paid him equal heed as those had done earlier by dealing him a rain of cursing and beating. Finally, however, the arrogance that had darkened his eyes began to soften as God, who never deserts anyone, let self-awareness begin to ripen in him. Through the grace of the Holy Spirit, his heart was softened and its icy coat melted.
It then became clear to him that only through confession and regret could a betterment of his condition be reached. It then occurred to him to be best to seek out the monk who had been so distressed by his lack of belief. While he came to this decision, he saw lying before him on the path a black, torn piece of material. Happily he grasped it and picked it up, wrapped himself with it and went out the gate. He then proceeded directly to the monastery, found the monk and threw himself with regret and grief-stricken at his feet while telling him what had happened. He begged tearfully for advice and support.
“Through you,” replied the monk, “God has fulfilled the word of the prophets in that his mercy on earth is unbegrudging. My advice now is that you return to the castle as naked as you are, and to the dining hall where you can expect to receive compassion from those who are there.” The monk then gave him his blessing.
The lord then returned to his castle, entering the hallway to the dining room. Here he found the usual coming and going and recognized his servants who were bring in beer and food. But no one recognized him and there was no lack of bluster as he tried to intrude further than they liked.
Whenever the door opened he tried to look into the room; there on his high throne next to his wife he saw a man sitting who talked first with her, then with his daughter and then with others at the table who amused themselves by telling stories as he himself was used to doing to amuse his acquaintances.
The man inside then saw him standing outside and asked one of the servants who the poor man was who stood naked in the hall. The servant replied that he did not know him. “In God’s name, let him enter”, said the man, “because he is really a man in need.” The poor man then entered. “Be seated in the hall, good friend,” said the man in the throne, “and take what God offers you.”
He sat himself down modestly and enjoyed whatever food and drink he was offered happily. In the evening, the table was removed as the lord wanted to retire. He approached the poor man and asked if he needed anything. “Praise be to God and to you, kind sir!” he replied. “I have from everything enough; I only lack some clothing.” “Let this poor man lie here for the night,” the man told the servants. “Perhaps here will he become some clothing sooner than elsewhere.”
In the meantime, the wife had gone to bed. The lord had removed his outer cloak and taken a place next to the bed. He sent all of his servants out, and ordered that only the unknown beggar remain by him. As soon as the door closed, the lord called the beggar to him and said, “So, my son, now you will allow time in your life to keep in mind that the power of the holy trinity can change everything to their will in the blink of an eye, as the monk told you? Know that I am an angel of God and I will not touch this bed. So take back your wife along with all of the goods that God has granted you, and let this proof of God’s mercy be a lesson so that you do not again let his goodness lead you to arrogance, but instead be more modest the higher you climb.”
With that, the angel disappeared. The knight fell crying to his knees and thanked God for the mercy he had shown him. He remained a modest and benevolent man for his whole life.
31These arts comprise grammar, rhetoric, logic or dialectic (the Trivium) and arithmetic, geometry, music and astronomy (the Quadrivium).