A medieval con artist from Chaucer

 

I love reading about con artists. I’m an unskilled liar. They have what seems like a superpower to me. So, when I saw a conman in the Cantebury Tales, I wanted to share him with you. Technically to make this Ars Magica related we need a plot hook, so:

Plot Hook:

A conman pretending to be an alchemist has taken forty pounds from a nobleman. He thinks the Order, being magi, are involved and should pay. Can they find the sham artist, and deliver him to the noble, to ease relations?

Honour being satisfied, it’s time for some slightly modernised Chaucer. Time for the Canon’s Yeoman’s Tale from Librivox. Thanks to Joshua Young.

The tale

In London was a priest, an annualere,
That therein dwelled had many a year,
Which was so pleasant and so serviceable
Unto the wife, where as he was at table,
That she would suffer him no thing to pay
For board nor clothing, went he ne’er so gay;
And spending silver had he right enow;
Thereof no force;* will proceed as now,                    *no matter
And tell forth my tale of the canon,
That brought this priest to confusion.
This false canon came upon a day
Unto the priest’s chamber, where he lay,
Beseeching him to lend him a certain
Of gold, and he would quit it him again.
“Lend me a mark,” quoth he, “but days three,
And at my day I will it quite thee.
And if it so be that thou find me false,
Another day hang me up by the halse.”*                    *neck
This priest him took a mark, and that as swithe,*    *quickly
And this canon him thanked often sithe,*                  *times
And took his leave, and went forth his way;
And at the third day brought his money;
And to the priest he took his gold again,
Whereof this priest was wondrous glad and fain.*   *pleased
“Certes,” quoth he, *”nothing annoyeth me*              *I am not unwiling*
To lend a man a noble, or two, or three,
Or what thing were in my possession,
When he so true is of condition,
That in no wise he break will his day;
To such a man I never can say nay.”
“What,” quoth this canon, “should I be untrue?
Nay, that were *thing y-fallen all of new!*                 *a new thing to happen*
Truth is a thing that I will ever keep,
Unto the day in which that I shall creep
Into my grave; and elles God forbid;
Believe this as sicker* as your creed. *sure
God thank I, and in good time be it said,
That there was never man yet *evil apaid*                *displeased, dissatisfied*
For gold nor silver that he to me lent,
Nor ever falsehood in mine heart I meant.
And Sir,” quoth he, “now of my privity,
Since ye so goodly have been unto me,
And kithed* to me so great gentleness,                      *shown
Somewhat, to quite with your kindness,
I will you shew, and if you list to lear,*                     *learn
I will you teach plainly the manner
How I can worken in philosophy.
Take good heed, ye shall well see *at eye*                *with your own eye*
That I will do a mas’try ere I go.”
“Yea,” quoth the priest; “yea, Sir, and will ye so?
Mary! thereof I pray you heartily.”
“At your commandment, Sir, truly,”
Quoth the canon, “and elles God forbid.”
Lo, how this thief could his service bede!*              *offer

Full sooth it is that such proffer’d service
Stinketh, as witness *these old wise;*                       *those wise folk of old*
And that full soon I will it verify
In this canon, root of all treachery,
That evermore delight had and gladness
(Such fiendly thoughts *in his heart impress*)    *press into his heart*
How Christe’s people he may to mischief bring.
God keep us from his false dissimuling!
What wiste this priest with whom that he dealt?
Nor of his harm coming he nothing felt.
O sely* priest, O sely innocent!                                   *simple
With covetise anon thou shalt be blent;*                 *blinded; beguiled
O graceless, full blind is thy conceit!
For nothing art thou ware of the deceit
Which that this fox y-shapen* hath to thee;            *contrived
His wily wrenches* thou not mayest flee.               *snares
Wherefore, to go to the conclusion
That referreth to thy confusion,
Unhappy man, anon I will me hie*                           *hasten
To tell thine unwit* and thy folly,                           *stupidity
And eke the falseness of that other wretch,
As farforth as that my conning* will stretch.         *knowledge
This canon was my lord, ye would ween;*           *imagine
Sir Host, in faith, and by the heaven’s queen,
It was another canon, and not he,
That can* an hundred fold more subtlety.             *knows
He hath betrayed folks many a time;
Of his falseness it doleth* me to rhyme.                *paineth
And ever, when I speak of his falsehead,
For shame of him my cheeks wax red;
Algates* they begin for to glow,                         *at least
For redness have I none, right well I know,
In my visage; for fumes diverse
Of metals, which ye have me heard rehearse,
Consumed have and wasted my redness.
Now take heed of this canon’s cursedness.*        *villainy

“Sir,” quoth he to the priest, “let your man go
For quicksilver, that we it had anon;
And let him bringen ounces two or three;
And when he comes, as fast shall ye see
A wondrous thing, which ye saw ne’er ere this.”
“Sir,” quoth the priest, “it shall be done, y-wis.”*  *certainly
He bade his servant fetch him this thing,
And he all ready was at his bidding,
And went him forth, and came anon again
With this quicksilver, shortly for to sayn;
And took these ounces three to the canoun;
And he them laid well and fair adown,
And bade the servant coals for to bring,
That he anon might go to his working.
The coals right anon weren y-fet,*                         *fetched
And this canon y-took a crosselet*                           *crucible
Out of his bosom, and shew’d to the priest.
“This instrument,” quoth he, “which that thou seest,
Take in thine hand, and put thyself therein
Of this quicksilver an ounce, and here begin,
In the name of Christ, to wax a philosopher.
There be full few, which that I would proffer
To shewe them thus much of my science;
For here shall ye see by experience
That this quicksilver I will mortify,
Right in your sight anon without lie,
And make it as good silver, and as fine,
As there is any in your purse, or mine,
Or elleswhere; and make it malleable,
And elles hold me false and unable
Among folk for ever to appear.
I have a powder here that cost me dear,
Shall make all good, for it is cause of all
My conning,* which that I you shewe shall.                          *knowledge
Voide* your man, and let him be thereout;                           *send away
And shut the door, while we be about
Our privity, that no man us espy,
While that we work in this philosophy.”
All, as he bade, fulfilled was in deed.
This ilke servant right anon out yede,*                                   *went
And his master y-shut the door anon,
And to their labour speedily they gon.

This priest, at this cursed canon’s bidding,
Upon the fire anon he set this thing,
And blew the fire, and busied him full fast.
And this canon into the croslet cast
A powder, I know not whereof it was
Y-made, either of chalk, either of glass,
Or somewhat elles, was not worth a fly,
To blinden* with this priest; and bade him hie** *deceive     **make haste
The coals for to couchen* all above lay in order
The croslet; “for, in token I thee love,”
Quoth this canon, “thine own hands two
Shall work all thing that here shall be do’.”
*”Grand mercy,”* quoth the priest, and was full glad,              *great thanks*
And couch’d the coals as the canon bade.
And while he busy was, this fiendly wretch,
This false canon (the foul fiend him fetch),
Out of his bosom took a beechen coal,
In which full subtifly was made a hole,
And therein put was of silver limaile*                                         *filings
An ounce, and stopped was without fail
The hole with wax, to keep the limaile in.
And understand, that this false gin*                                         *contrivance
Was not made there, but it was made before;
And other things I shall tell you more,
Hereafterward, which that he with him brought;
Ere he came there, him to beguile he thought,
And so he did, ere that they *went atwin;*                                *separated*
Till he had turned him, could he not blin.*                                *cease
It doleth* me, when that I of him speak;                                    *paineth
On his falsehood fain would I me awreak,*                              *revenge myself
If I wist how, but he is here and there;
He is so variant,* he abides nowhere.                                        *changeable

But take heed, Sirs, now for Godde’s love.
He took his coal, of which I spake above,
And in his hand he bare it privily,
And while the priest couched busily
The coales, as I tolde you ere this,
This canon saide, “Friend, ye do amiss;
This is not couched as it ought to be,
But soon I shall amenden it,” quoth he.
“Now let me meddle therewith but a while,
For of you have I pity, by Saint Gile.
Ye be right hot, I see well how ye sweat;
Have here a cloth, and wipe away the wet.”
And while that the priest wip’d his face,
This canon took his coal, — *with sorry grace,* —                       *evil fortune
And layed it above on the midward attend him!*
Of the croslet, and blew well afterward,
Till that the coals began fast to brenn.*                                      *burn
“Now give us drink,” quoth this canon then,
“And swithe* all shall be well, I undertake.                                    *quickly
Sit we down, and let us merry make.”
And when that this canon’s beechen coal
Was burnt, all the limaile out of the hole
Into the crosselet anon fell down;
And so it must needs, by reason,
Since it above so *even couched* was;                                            *exactly laid*
But thereof wist the priest no thing, alas!
He deemed all the coals alike good,
For of the sleight he nothing understood.

And when this alchemister saw his time,
“Rise up, Sir Priest,” quoth he, “and stand by me;
And, for I wot well ingot* have ye none;                                         *mould
Go, walk forth, and bring me a chalk stone;
For I will make it of the same shape
That is an ingot, if I may have hap.
Bring eke with you a bowl, or else a pan,
Full of water, and ye shall well see than* *then
How that our business shall *hap and preve* *succeed*
And yet, for ye shall have no misbelieve* *mistrust
Nor wrong conceit of me, in your absence,
I will not be out of your presence,
But go with you, and come with you again.”
The chamber-door, shortly for to sayn,
They opened and shut, and went their way,
And forth with them they carried the key;
And came again without any delay.
Why should I tarry all the long day?
He took the chalk, and shap’d it in the wise
Of an ingot, as I shall you devise;*                                            *describe
I say, he took out of his own sleeve
A teine* of silver (evil may he cheve!**)                                  *little piece / **prosper
Which that ne was but a just ounce of weight.
And take heed now of his cursed sleight;
He shap’d his ingot, in length and in brede*                           *breadth
Of this teine, withouten any drede,*                                         *doubt
So slily, that the priest it not espied;
And in his sleeve again he gan it hide;
And from the fire he took up his matter,
And in th’ ingot put it with merry cheer;
And in the water-vessel he it cast,
When that him list, and bade the priest as fast
Look what there is; “Put in thine hand and grope;
There shalt thou find silver, as I hope.”
What, devil of helle! should it elles be?
Shaving of silver, silver is, pardie.
He put his hand in, and took up a teine
Of silver fine; and glad in every vein
Was this priest, when he saw that it was so.
“Godde’s blessing, and his mother’s also,
And alle hallows,* have ye, Sir Canon!”                             *saints
Saide this priest, “and I their malison*                              *curse
But, an’* ye vouchesafe to teach me                                 *if
This noble craft and this subtility,
I will be yours in all that ever I may.”
Quoth the canon, “Yet will I make assay
The second time, that ye may take heed,
And be expert of this, and, in your need,
Another day assay in mine absence
This discipline, and this crafty science.
Let take another ounce,” quoth he tho,*                            *then
“Of quicksilver, without words mo’,
And do therewith as ye have done ere this
With that other, which that now silver is. “

The priest him busied, all that e’er he can,
To do as this canon, this cursed man,
Commanded him, and fast he blew the fire
For to come to th’ effect of his desire.
And this canon right in the meanwhile
All ready was this priest eft* to beguile,                            *again
and, for a countenance,* in his hand bare                      *stratagem
An hollow stick (take keep* and beware);                       *heed
Of silver limaile put was, as before
Was in his coal, and stopped with wax well
For to keep in his limaile every deal.*                                *particle
And while this priest was in his business,
This canon with his stick gan him dress*                        *apply
To him anon, and his powder cast in,
As he did erst (the devil out of his skin
Him turn, I pray to God, for his falsehead,
For he was ever false in thought and deed),
And with his stick, above the crosselet,
That was ordained* with that false get,**                          *provided **contrivance
He stirr’d the coals, till relente gan
The wax against the fire, as every man,
But he a fool be, knows well it must need.
And all that in the stick was out yede,*                           *went
And in the croslet hastily* it fell. *quickly
Now, good Sirs, what will ye bet* than well?                *better
When that this priest was thus beguil’d again,
Supposing naught but truth, sooth to sayn,
He was so glad, that I can not express
In no manner his mirth and his gladness;
And to the canon he proffer’d eftsoon*                             *forthwith; again
Body and good. “Yea,” quoth the canon soon,
“Though poor I be, crafty* thou shalt me find;                *skilful
I warn thee well, yet is there more behind.
Is any copper here within?” said he.
“Yea, Sir,” the priest said, “I trow there be.”
“Elles go buy us some, and that as swithe.*                      *swiftly
Now, good Sir, go forth thy way and hie* thee.”            *hasten
He went his way, and with the copper came,
And this canon it in his hands name,*                             *took
And of that copper weighed out an ounce.
Too simple is my tongue to pronounce,
As minister of my wit, the doubleness
Of this canon, root of all cursedness.
He friendly seem’d to them that knew him not;
But he was fiendly, both in work and thought.
It wearieth me to tell of his falseness;
And natheless yet will I it express,
To that intent men may beware thereby,
And for none other cause truly.
He put this copper in the crosselet,
And on the fire as swithe* he hath it set,                          *swiftly
And cast in powder, and made the priest to blow,
And in his working for to stoop low,
As he did erst,* and all was but a jape;**                          *before **trick
Right as him list the priest *he made his ape.*                *befooled him*
And afterward in the ingot he it cast,
And in the pan he put it at the last
Of water, and in he put his own hand;
And in his sleeve, as ye beforehand
Heard me tell, he had a silver teine;*                              *small piece
He silly took it out, this cursed heine*                               *wretch
(Unweeting* this priest of his false craft),                        *unsuspecting
And in the pan’s bottom he it laft*                                *left
And in the water rumbleth to and fro,
And wondrous privily took up also
The copper teine (not knowing thilke priest),
And hid it, and him hente* by the breast,                         *took
And to him spake, and thus said in his game;
“Stoop now adown; by God, ye be to blame;
Help me now, as I did you whilere;*                               *before
Put in your hand, and look what is there.”

This priest took up this silver teine anon;
And then said the canon, “Let us gon,
With these three teines which that we have wrought,
To some goldsmith, and *weet if they be aught:*            *find out if they are
For, by my faith, I would not for my hood worth anything*
*But if* they were silver fine and good,                            *unless
And that as swithe* well proved shall it be.”                    *quickly
Unto the goldsmith with these teines three
They went anon, and put them in assay*                          *proof
To fire and hammer; might no man say nay,
But that they were as they ought to be.
This sotted* priest, who gladder was than he?                *stupid, besotted
Was never bird gladder against the day;
Nor nightingale in the season of May
Was never none, that better list to sing;
Nor lady lustier in carolling,
Or for to speak of love and womanhead;
Nor knight in arms to do a hardy deed,
To stand in grace of his lady dear,
Than had this priest this craft for to lear;
And to the canon thus he spake and said;
“For love of God, that for us all died,
And as I may deserve it unto you,
What shall this receipt cost? tell me now.”
“By our Lady,” quoth this canon, “it is dear.
I warn you well, that, save I and a frere,
In England there can no man it make.”
*”No force,”* quoth he; “now, Sir, for God’s sake,         *no matter
What shall I pay? tell me, I you pray.”
“Y-wis,”* quoth he, “it is full dear, I say.                              *certainly
Sir, at one word, if that you list it have,
Ye shall pay forty pound, so God me save;
And n’ere* the friendship that ye did ere this                  *were it not for
To me, ye should pay more, y-wis.”
This priest the sum of forty pound anon
Of nobles fet,* and took them every one                            *fetched
To this canon, for this like receipt.
All his working was but fraud and deceit.
“Sir Priest,” he said, “I keep* to have no los**                   *care **praise <16>
Of my craft, for I would it were kept close;
And as ye love me, keep it secret:
For if men knew all my subtlety,
By God, they would have so great envy
To me, because of my philosophy,
I should be dead, there were no other way.”
“God it forbid,” quoth the priest, “what ye say.
Yet had I lever* spend all the good                                 *rather
Which that I have (and elles were I wood*),                     *mad
Than that ye should fall in such mischief.”
“For your good will, Sir, have ye right good proof,”*       *results of your
Quoth the canon; “and farewell, grand mercy.”               *experiments*
He went his way, and never the priest him sey *             *saw
After that day;

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