The Book of Margery Kempe (21 page)

The good priest who was written about before, and who was her reader, fell very ill, and she was stirred in her soul to look after him, on God's behalf. And when she lacked such thing as was needful for him, she went about to good men and good women and got what was necessary for him. He was so ill that people had no confidence that he would live, and his sickness was long continuing.

Then on one occasion, as she was in church hearing mass and
prayed for the same priest, our Lord said to her that he should live and get on very well. Then she was stirred to go to Norwich, to St Stephen's Church, where the good Vicar is buried who died only shortly before that time,
¹
and for whom God showed high mercy to his people, to thank him for the recovery of this priest.

She took leave of her confessor, and set off for Norwich. When she came into the churchyard of St Stephen's, she cried, she roared, she wept, she fell down to the ground, so fervently did the fire of love burn in her heart.

Afterwards she rose up again and went on weeping into the church and up to the high altar, and there she fell down with violent sobbings, weepings and loud cries beside the grave of the good Vicar, all ravished with spiritual comfort in the goodness of our Lord, who worked such great grace for his servant who had been her confessor, and many times heard her confession of all her life, and administered to her at various times the precious sacrament of the altar. And her devotion was all the more increased, in that she saw our Lord work such special grace for such a creature as she had been conversant with in his lifetime.

She had such holy thoughts and such holy memories that she could not control her weeping nor her crying. And therefore people were astonished at her, supposing that she had wept because of some fleshly or earthly affection, and said to her, ‘What is wrong with you, woman? Why are you behaving like this? We knew him as well as you.'

Then there were priests in the same place who knew her way of behaving, and they very charitably took her to a tavern and made her have a drink, and made her very welcome with much kindness.

There was also a lady who wanted to have the said creature to a meal. And therefore, as decency required, she went to the church where this lady heard her service, and where this creature saw a beautiful image of our Lady called a pietà
²
And through looking at that pietà her mind was wholly occupied with the Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ and with the compassion of our Lady, St Mary, by which she was compelled to cry out very loudly and weep very bitterly, as though she would have died.

Then the lady's priest came to her, saying, ‘Woman, Jesus is long since dead.'

When her crying had ceased, she said to the priest, ‘Sir, his death is as fresh to me as if he had died this same day, and so, I think, it ought to be to you and to all Christian people. We ought always to remember his kindness, and always think of the doleful death that he died for us.'

Then the good lady, hearing what she had said, declared, ‘Sir, it is a good example to me, and to other people also, the grace that God works in her soul.'

And so the good lady was her advocate and answered for her. Afterwards she took her home with her to eat, and showed her great warmth and kindness as long as she wanted to remain there. And soon after, she came home again to Lynn, and the said priest, for whom she went most specially to Norwich, and who had read to her for about seven years,
³
recovered and went about where he liked – Almighty God be thanked for his goodness.

Then a friar came to Lynn who was held to be a holy man and a good preacher.
¹
His name and his skill in preaching were very widely known. Good men came to the said creature in their charity and said, ‘Margery, now you will have enough preaching, for one of the most famous friars in England has come to this town to be in their establishment here.'

Then she was happy and glad, and thanked God with all her heart that so good a man had come to dwell amongst them. A short time afterwards, he preached a sermon in a chapel of St James in Lynn,
²
where many people gathered to hear the sermon. And before he went to the pulpit, the parish priest of the place where he was going to preach went to him and said, ‘Sir, I pray
you be not displeased. A woman will come here to your sermon who often, when she hears of the Passion of our Lord or of any high devotion, weeps, sobs and cries, but it does not last long. And therefore, good sir, if she should make any noise at your sermon, bear with it patiently and do not be dismayed by it.'

The good friar went forward to preach the sermon, and spoke most holily and most devoutly, and said much about our Lord's Passion, so that the said creature could no longer bear it. She kept herself from crying as long as she could, and then at last she burst out with a great cry, and cried amazingly bitterly. The good friar bore with it patiently, and said not a word about it at that time.

A short time afterwards he preached again in the same place. The said creature being present, and noticing how much people came running to hear the sermon, she had great joy in her soul, thinking in her mind, ‘Ah, Lord Jesus, I believe, if you were here to preach in person, people would have great joy to hear you. I pray you, Lord, make your holy word to settle in their souls as I would that it would do in mine, and may as many be turned by his voice, as would be by your voice if you preached yourself.'

And with such holy thoughts and reflections, she asked grace for the people at that time. And afterwards, what with the holy sermon, and what with her meditation, grace of devotion worked so intensely in her mind that she fell into violent weeping,

Then the good friar said, ‘I wish this woman were out of the church; she is annoying people.'

Some people that were her friends replied, ‘Sir, do excuse her. She can't control it.'

Then many people turned against her and were very glad that the good friar held against her. Then some men said that she had a devil within her, and they had said so many times before, but now they were bolder, for they thought that their opinion was much strengthened by this good friar. Nor would he allow her to hear his sermons unless she would leave off her sobbing and her crying.

There was then a good priest who had read to her much good scripture and knew the cause of her crying. He spoke to another
good priest, who had known her many years, and told him his idea: how he proposed to go to the good friar, and try if he could humble his heart.

The other good priest said he would willingly go with him, to obtain grace, if he might. So they went, both priests together, and begged the good friar with all their hearts that he would allow the said creature to come quietly to his sermon, and bear with her patiently if she happened to sob or cry, as other good men had borne with her before.

He answered shortly, that if she came into any church where he was going to preach, and made any noise as she was used to do, he would speak out against her sharply – he would not allow her to cry in any way.

Afterwards, a worthy doctor of divinity, a White Friar – a very serious-minded cleric and elderly doctor, and very well thought-of- who had known the said creature many years of her life, and believed the grace that God worked in her, took with him another worthy man, a bachelor of law, a man well grounded and long practised in scripture, who was confessor to the said creature
³
, and went to this friar as the good priests did before, and sent for wine to cheer him with, praying him of his charity to look favourably on the works of our Lord in the said creature, and grant her his benevolence in supporting her, if she happened to cry or sob while he was in the middle of his sermon. And these worthy clerics told him that it was a gift of God, and that she could not have it but when God would give it, nor could she withstand it when God would send it, and God would withdraw it when he willed – for that she had through revelation, and that was unknown to the friar.

Then he, neither giving credence to the doctor's words nor the bachelor's, trusting a great deal on the favour of the people, said he would not look favourably on her crying for anything that anyone might say or do, for he would not believe that it was a gift of God. But, he said, if she could not withstand it when it came, he believed it was a heart condition, or some other sickness, and if she would acknowledge this to be so, he said, he would have
compassion on her and urge people to pray for her. And, on this condition, he would have patience with her and allow her to cry enough, if she would say it was a natural illness.

And she herself well knew by revelation and by experience that it was no sickness, and therefore she would not for all this world say otherwise than as she felt. And therefore they could not agree. Then the worthy doctor and her confessor advised her that she should not go to his sermon, and that was a great pain to her.

Then another man went – a most worthy burgess, who a few years after was Mayor of Lynn – and asked him as the worthy clerics had done before, and he was answered as they were.

Then she was charged by her confessor that she should not go where he preached, but when he preached in one church she should go into another. She felt so much sorrow that she did not know what she could do, for she was excluded from the sermon, which was to her the highest comfort on earth when she could hear it, and equally, the contrary was to her the greatest pain on earth, when she could not hear it. When she was alone by herself in one church, and he preaching to people in another, she had as loud and as astonishing cries as when she was amongst people.

For years she was not allowed to come to his sermons, because she cried so when it pleased our Lord to put her in mind and true beholding of his bitter Passion. But she was not excluded from any other cleric's preaching, but only from the good friar', as is said before; notwithstanding that in the meantime there preached many worthy doctors and other worthy clerks, both religious and secular, at whose sermons she cried very loudly and sobbed very violently many times and often. And yet they put up with it very patiently, and some who had spoken with her before, and had knowledge of her manner of life, excused her to the people when they heard any clamour or grumbling against her.

Afterwards, on St James's Day,
¹
the good friar preached in St James's Chapel yard in Lynn – he was at that time neither bachelor nor doctor of divinity – where there were many people and a great audience, for he had a holy name and great favour amongst the people, in so much that some men, if they knew that he would preach in the district, would go with him or else follow him from town to town, such great delight had they to hear him, and so – blessed may God be – he preached most holily and devoutly.

Nevertheless, on this day he preached a great deal against the said creature, not mentioning her name, but so conveying his thoughts that people well understood that he meant her. Then there was much protest amongst the people, for many men and many women trusted and loved her very much, and were very sad and sorry that he spoke so much against her as he did, wishing that they had not heard him that day.

When he heard the murmuring and grumbling of the people, and supposing he would be gainsaid another day by those who were her friends, he, striking his hand on the pulpit, said, ‘If I hear these matters repeated any more, I shall so strike the nail on the head,' he said, ‘that it shall shame all her supporters.'

And then many of those who pretended friendship to her hung back out of a little vain dread that they had of his words, and dared not very well speak with her. Among these people was the same priest who afterwards wrote down this book, and he was resolved never again to believe her feelings.

And yet our Lord drew him back in a short time – blessed may he be – so that he loved her more, and trusted more in her weeping and her crying than he ever did before. For afterwards he read of a woman called Mary of Oignies
²
, and of her manner of life, of the wonderful sweetness that she had in hearing the word of God, of the wonderful compassion that she had in thinking of his Passion, of the abundant tears that she wept, which made her so weak and feeble that she could not endure to look upon the
cross, nor hear our Lord's Passion repeated, without dissolving into tears of pity and compassion.

Of the plentiful grace of her tears, it treats especially in the book before mentioned, in the eighteenth chapter which begins Bonus
est, domine, sperantibus in te,
and also in the nineteenth chapter, where it tells how she, at the request of a priest that he should not be troubled or disturbed at his mass by her weeping and sobbing, went out at the church door, crying with a loud voice, such that she could not restrain herself.

And our Lord also visited the priest when at mass with such grace and such devotion when he should read the Holy Gospel, that he wept amazingly, so that he wetted his vestments and the ornaments of the altar, and could not control his weeping or his sobbing, it was so abundant; nor could he restrain it, or very well stand at the altar because of it.

Then he well believed that the good woman, for whom he had previously had little affection, could not restrain her weeping, her sobbing, nor her crying, and that she felt much more abundance of grace than he ever did, beyond comparison. Then he well knew that God gave his grace to whom he would.

Then the priest who wrote this treatise, through the prompting of a worthy clerk, a bachelor of divinity, had seen and read the matter before written much more seriously and in greater detail than it is written in this present treatise. (For here is included only a little of the purpose of it, because he did not have a very clear memory of the said matter when he wrote this treatise, and therefore he wrote less about it.)

Then he drew towards and inclined more steadfastly to the said creature, whom he had fled and avoided because of the friar's preaching, as is written before. The same priest also read afterwards in a treatise which is called
The Prick of Love
,
³
the second chapter, that Bonaventura wrote these following words about himself: ‘Ah, Lord, what shall I more cry out and call? You delay and do not come, and I, weary and overcome with desire, begin to go mad, for love governs me, and not reason. I run with a hasty course wherever you wish. I submit, Lord. Those who see me are
irked and have pity, not knowing me to be drunk with your love. “Lord,” they say, “see, that mad man cries out in the streets,” but they do not perceive how great is the desire of my heart.'

He also read similar material about Richard of Hampole,
⁴
the hermit, in the
Incendium Amoris
which prompted him to give credence to the said creature. Elizabeth of Hungary
⁵
also cried with a loud voice, as is written in her treatise.

And many others, who had forsaken her because of the friar's preaching, repented and turned to her once more by process of time, notwithstanding that the friar kept his opinion. He would always in his sermons have a part against her, whether she were there or not, and caused many people to think very badly of her for many long days.

For some said that she had a devil within her, and some said to her own face that the friar should have driven those devils out of her. Thus was she slandered, and eaten and gnawed by people's talk, because of the grace that God worked in her of contrition, of devotion, and of compassion, through the gift of which graces she wept, sobbed, and cried very bitterly against her will – she might not choose, for she would rather have wept softly and privately than openly, if it had been in her power.