Second part of the tale of the canon’s yeoman

This is going to be a story of another canon who was a hundred times more skilled in trickery than my master. He was treacherously clever than he could poison a whole town though it were as great as Rome or Alexandria. He usually made a fool of anyone who did business with him, because his sly words soon talked the person over.

The man engaged with him in conversation

Soon finds his brain is dizzy with rotation,

Unless the man’s a devil like himself…

Many a man had this canon deceived and yet men walked and rode many miles to seek him and to make acquaintance.

Meanwhile there was a priest in London who had lived there for many years by singing for the dead, and who was so pleasant and helpful to the house-wife where he boarded that she would not allow him to pay anything for board and clothing.

So pleasant was he in his manner and so able,

The lady in whose house he sat at table,

Refused to take a farthing’s worth of pay

For board and clothes, whatever his display;

I now will tell you about this scoundrel, the canon, who gave the priest good cause to weep and wail.

One day the false canon entered the room where the priest slept, begging him to lend a certain amount of gold (a mark) which he promised to pay back in three days. And so he did. He really brought the money back and the foolish priest thought him a very honourable man.

This treacherous canon, then, came in one day,

Entered the priest’s apartment where he lay

And begged him to advance a certain sum,

Which was to be repaid him, saying, “Come,

Lend me a mark, it’s only for three days,

I’ll pay you on the nail1, I’m one who pays.

And if I fail you when you come to check,

Another time just hang me by the neck!”

The priest produced the money on the sport;

The canon after thanking him a lot,

Took leave of him and went upon his way

And brought his money back the proper day.

When it had been paid back and matters righted,

The foolish priest of course was quite delighted

And said, “Trust me, I never take offence

If someone comes to borrow a few pence,

Or anything I have in my possession

And does not break his day if he should owe;

To such a man I never can say no.”

“What!” said the canon. “I not pay when due?

That will be something altogether new!

My honour is a thing I hope to keep

For ever, till the moment when I creep

Into my grave. God send I do indeed!”

The canon, who pretended to be very grateful to the priest, said he wished to do him a good turn. He said he knew the secret of the philosopher’s stone and he would teach him a science that worked miracles.

“I’ll tell you something, if you care to learn,

In simple language, how I came to turn

My talents toward alchemy and science.

Watch! You can place an absolute reliance

On seeing me the work a miracle ere1 I go.”

“What!” said the priest. “Can that be really so?

Mother of Cod! I beg you to proceed!”

This was just the very thing to rouse the priest. His eyes shone with avarice (greed). Because of his avarice he finally fell into the canon’s trap.

The priest had no idea with whom he dealt,

And what was coming to him never felt.

Oh, foolish priest! Oh, innocent in bliss,

Soon to be blinded and by avarice!

“Sir,” said the canon, “send your man for an ounce or two quicksilver and let us have it at once. As soon as he returns, you shall see such a miracle as you never saw before.”

When the man brought the quicksilver, he was sent out to bring coals. Then the canon took the a crucible from inside of his robe and showed it to the priest. “Take this instrument which you see in my hand,” he said. “Put an ounce of quicksilver in it yourself, and with that you begin, in the name of Christ, to become a philosopher. You will now actually see that I shall change this quicksilver into real silver right before your eyes. I will make it into as good and fine silver as the money that is in your purse, or in mine, or elsewhere. I have here a powder which will accomplish all this. It is the root of all my skill which I shall show you. Send your man away, so that he should not spy upon us while we work in alchemy.’

“I have a powder here that cost the earth

And it will make all good, for it’s the basis

Of all my power – I’ll show you – in these cases.

Send your man off, tell him to wait outside,

And shut the door on him. I won’t be spied

Upon at work, for no one else must see

The way we set to work in alchemy.”

He gave his order and the thing was done,

The servant was sent packing at a run,

The chamber door was bolted with a jerk

And these philosophers got down to work.

The priest then set the vessel on the fire and blew the fire, working very busily, and the canon threw a powder into the crucible which wasn’t worth a fly but it deceived the priest. Then the canon told the priest to place a bed of coals above the crucible with his own hands.

The canon said, “In what we’re going to do,

I’ll leave the handling of it all to you.”

“Oh, thank you!” said the priest, who was delighted

And couched the coals just as he was invited.

While he was busy, this devilish wretched, the canon, pulled a coal from inside his robe. It was a beech coal which had been carefully prepared before; a hole had been drilled in it and it was filled with an ounce of silver filings, and stoppered with blackened wax to keep the fillings in.

The canon took his coal and hiding it in his hand, said, “Friend, you are doing the work wrong, this is not as it should be; let me mend it. You are very hot, I can see you sweat. Here, take this cloth and wipe your face. While the priest was wiping his face, the canon placed his coal in the middle of the coals above the crucible and blew the fire.

And while the priest was mopping up his face,

The canon took his coal – the damned disgrace! –

And stuck it in the middle somewhat higher

Than was the crucible, and blew the fire

Till up it flamed and all the coals were red.

“And now let’s have a drink,” the canon said;

“All will be well quite soon, I’ll undertake.

Sit down, let’s cheer ourselves for goodness sake.”

When the canon’s beechwood coal had burnt, all the filings fell down into the crucible, which was only natural. And then the canon said, “Get up, sir priest. Since you have no mould, go out and get us a chalk-stone. I’ll it into the shape of a mould. And also bring with you a dish of water and then you will see how well our business will prosper. Wait, I will go with you. I will never be a moment out of sight, and you won’t have any suspicion of me.”

They went out, then shut the door of the room taking the key with them. On their return the canon took the chalk-stone and shaped it in the form of a mould. Now notice the accursed trick. He took from his own sleeve a rod of silver which weighed only an ounce and shaped a mould from the breadth and length of it, so that it should fit in the chalk-stone mould. Than he hid it again in his sleeve. All this the priest did not see. Next, the canon picked up his materials from the fire merrily, poured them into the mould and threw the mould into the dish of water and see what there was there. The priest put in his hand and picked up the rod of fine silver.

“Look what we’ve got, put in your hand and grope

And you will find some silver there, I hope.”

What else could have been the stuff?

Silver filings are silver right enough.

Thrilled to the veins to see this silver rod

The priest said: “Bless you and the Mother of God

And all his saints preserve you, worthy master!”

He cried: “And may they bring me to disaster

Unless you will vouchsafe your kind compliance1

In teaching me this noble art and science.”

“Well,” said the canon, “let me try again;

“We’ll have a second shot; pay careful heed

And you’ll become an expert.’

When they tried a third test with copper, the canon managed to drop his own silver rod out of his sleeve into the cooling pan. Since it fitted into the same mould, the priest believed that the copper had turned into silver. He was so glad to have learned the art, that he asked the canon to sell him the powder and the formula of the process. The canon agreed to sell it for forty pounds. As soon as he got the money he left the town and was never seen again.

I hardly need explain

That when he tried experiment, the priest

Had no success whatever, not the least;

The powder would not work, it was a mock,

He had been tricked and made a laughing-stock.

So I conclude: since God will not allow

Philosophers to tell their pupils how

To find this stone, no doubt it’s better so,

And my advice would be to let it go.