I Shall One Day Repent
Sir Thomas More once again found himself in the midst of a group of young people. These young men and women were friends of his daughter, Margaret, and were often at his house, discussing topics of the day. As usual, Sir Thomas was enticed into the discussion, as he found he loved to banter ideas with these young people, and they, in turn, were amused and intrigued by Sir Thomas's ready wit and vast knowledge of human character. Often, Sir Thomas would have a readied anecdote for nearly every topic. And on this occasion, Septuagesima Sunday, the young men and women were discussing the gospel of that day; the parable where the householder agreed to hire each man to work in his vineyard for a denarius [penny], and as the day wore on, hired more men for the same amount. At the end of the day, the owner paid each man what he agreed; all one denarius. The workers who worked the entire day murmured in dissatisfaction at receiving the same as those who had only worked an hour. Sir Thomas listened and commented on the discussion of "So the last shall be first, and the first last." Then the discussion turned to that of repenting at the eleventh hour. Most thought that this is what the parable was most meant to show. Sir Thomas disagreed, and as his rebuttal gave, as it were, a little parable of his own. Sir Thomas told them that it was a true story, but for the sake of avoiding detraction, would not use real names. He would call his character "William" as there were no Williams in the group.
"William," Sir Thomas began, "was a young gentleman with wealth and a title. His beautiful, young wife and small children lived on his estate in the country. But Sir William preferred to live in London, and led a life of debauchery. He often caused great scandal by being drunk at all hours of the day and night, and with women of ill repute. In fact, Sir William often bragged of his adulterous conquests."
"I met Sir William one early morning on an empty street in London," Sir Thomas continued, "and it was obvious that Sir William had spent the night drinking."
Sir Thomas watched as the young man left the company of two slatternly-looking women and staggered toward him. Sir William was about to pass, when all at once he recognized Sir Thomas.
"Sir Thomas, my good man," Sir William bellowed out, and then gave Sir Thomas a hearty slap on the shoulder. "What good fortune that you came my way."
"Sir William," Sir Thomas replied in acknowledgment, and nodded his head to the man. But in his mind, Sir Thomas thought the same thing. For Sir Thomas had often wanted to warn this young man that the sinful life he was leading would most certainly lead him to hell. Now, he had found Sir William alone, and for the most part, sober. He would not waste this opportunity given to him by God.
"Come, Sir Thomas, let me buy you a drink," the young man offered. And the young gentleman began searching his pockets for any money he might have on him.
"No, I think not," Sir Thomas replied, almost curtly.
"Well, that's a good thing," Sir William answered back, good-naturedly, "as I don't seem to have any money." And then he laughed at his own folly.
"It is far too early in the day to be drinking, Sir William. You need to go home," Sir Thomas advised.
"Now, there's a thought," Sir William bantered in reply. "Why don't you buy me a drink and we'll discuss it."
"Sir William, you have to stop this sinful life." Sir Thomas scolded the young man. "It will lead to your eternal damnation."
"Another interesting thought," Sir William teased back. "Let's go and have a drink and discuss that too."
Sir Thomas shook his head ruefully at Sir William's good-natured persistence. Sir William was a cheerful, charming fellow; too charming when it came to the ladies. And then Sir Thomas studied the young man with a concerned frown. This man would damn his soul if he did not change his ways.
"I tremble for your soul," Sir Thomas then began. "For the love of God, Sir William, repent while you still have time. You are young, and yet you live a life steeped in mortal sin. I pray for you."
"Pray for me, do you?" Sir William returned. "You are a good fellow. Do not tremble for me, Sir Thomas. I shall one day repent. But I do mean to have my fun first. There is always time to repent."
"Death comes like a thief in the night," Sir Thomas reminded him. "If you do not cease this evil life now, you will give no thought of repenting when God calls you."
"Do not fret, Sir Thomas. I shall cheat the devil yet. I have the very words that will obtain for me God's pardon, even at the last moments of my life," Sir William assured him.
"They will have to be many and well chosen," Sir Thomas foreboded, "to pardon you from a life unrepentant of mortal sin."
"No. I only need but three," Sir William informed him. Sir William was beginning to enjoy this verbal bantering with the known master of words, Sir Thomas More.
"Three very powerful words," Sir William pronounced importantly.
"They would have to be very powerful indeed," Sir Thomas countered, "for God to pardon such an audacious sinner. What are these awesome words?" he wanted to know.
Sir William smiled his most charming smile. Sir William was fully confident that he had now got the better of the notorious wordsmith.
"The words are these," Sir William bragged, "Lord, pardon me."
"Well chosen words indeed," admitted Sir Thomas. "But how do you know you will have time to say them if you are snatched from this world by surprise."
"Ah, Sir Thomas," Sir William smirked in reply, "that's where I know I am safe. For I say these words all day, everyday. I ejaculate them at every occasion so that they will always be the first words on my lips at any given moment."
And then Sir William chuckled inwardly to himself at his believed triumph.
But Sir Thomas seemed undaunted, and studied the gentleman with a grave, steady gaze. It made Sir William feel uncomfortable.
"Take care, Sir William," Sir Thomas warned, "for you may still lose your soul. God does not pardon obstinate sinners."
A spark of indignation flashed in Sir William's eyes. He instantly became bored with the conversation. And if Sir Thomas wasn't going to buy him a drink, he couldn't be bothered staying in his company any longer.
"I mustn't be keeping you from your business any longer," Sir William said in a droll tone. "Good day, Sir Thomas," he added with a gracious, but unsteady, bow.
"I shall pray for you, Sir William," Sir Thomas said in reply, and returned the bow.
Sir William sauntered past Sir Thomas in a cocky manner, but just as got a few steps away, Sir William swayed and then staggered a little.
"Lord, pardon me!" he ejaculated over his shoulder at Sir Thomas, and then added a laugh.
Sir Thomas thought about that young man many times after that, especially as he heard of Sir William's many new exploits and scandals. And Sir Thomas prayed for him.
It was not long after that Sir Thomas happened to overhear about the sudden death of a Sir William, and he inquired immediately if it were the same Sir William that he knew. Indeed, it was!
Did the young man have enough time to say the three words that would save him from hell? Sir Thomas was concerned, and inquired from an acquaintance that was with him, as to the events of Sir William's death.
"Sir William was riding, and, as usual, was half drunk," the man informed Sir Thomas.
"We neared a bridge that was almost covered by flood-water," he continued. "None of us dared cross it, as the raging river buffeted the bridge with such a great force that we could hear it creak and snap, as if it were about to give way."
"Sir William sneered at our trepidation," the man said, "and rode to cross the bridge. But Sir William's horse refused to cross."
"Then," the man went on, "Sir William pulled up and rode a short way back up the trail. Turning his horse, he urged him with the whip at a great speed toward the bridge. Again, the horse shied, and this time lost its footing on the slick bridge. Both horse and rider fell at full force against the railing, which gave way. Then both were engulfed in the torrents, and were not seen again until they were washed up down river, both dead."
"Did you hear Sir William say anything before he went under the water?" Sir Thomas demanded in concern.
"Well, Sir Thomas, yes, he did." The man said, recollecting.
"Was it three words?" Sir Thomas asked hopefully.
"Well, yes it was," replied the man, a little confused as to the reasoning of Sir Thomas's question.
"What were the three words?" Sir Thomas needed to know.
"Just before Sir William went under the water," the man told Sir Thomas, "I heard him exclaim 'May the devil–'"
And at those words, Sir Thomas finished his little anecdote to the group gathered around him. He paused and waited for the full meaning of what had been said to be clear to all the young people present.
No one said a word for quite a while.
1 This story embellishes the account given in The Catechism in Examples.
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