Margaret, Queen Of Navarre - The Tales Of The Heptameron, Vol. II. (of V.)

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6 This is Florimond Robertet, the first of that family of
statesmen who served the French crown from Charles VIII. to
Henri III. It was Charles VIII. who appointed Florimond
Treasurer of France and Secretary of Finances, offices in
which he displayed great skill and honesty. Louis XII., who
confirmed him in his functions, habitually consulted him on
important political affairs. He acquired considerable
wealth, and was often called "the great baron," after the
barony of Alluye, which he possessed in Le Perche. One of
the curiosities of Blois is the Hotel d'Alluye, a house of
semi-Moorish style, erected by Robertet at the close of the
fifteenth century. Another of his residences was the chateau
of Bury, near Blois, where he set up Michael Angelo's famous
bronze statue of David, presented to him by the city of
Florence, and the fate of which has furnished material for
so much speculation. Under Francis I. Robertet enjoyed the
same credit as during the two previous reigns. Fleuranges
declares that no one else was so intimate with the King, and
commends him as being the most experienced and competent
statesman of the times. According to the _Journal d'un
Bourgeois de Paris_, Robertet died "at the Palais (de
Justice) in Paris, of which he was concierge," on November
29, 1527. Francis repeatedly visited him during his illness,
and, on his death, ordered that his remains should lie in
state, and be interred with great pomp and ceremony. Clement
Marot's works contain a poem, four hundred lines in length,
celebrating Robertet's virtues and talents.--L., B. J., and
Ed.

As soon, therefore, as the King was awake he failed not to lay the
matter before him in the presence of the Lord de la Tremoille and the
Admiral de Bonnivet, who were ignorant of the trick that the King had
played the Count the day before.

Then the King laughed, and said to them--"You desired to banish Count
William, and you see he is banishing himself. Wherefore, tell him
that if he be not content with the establishment which he accepted on
entering my service, and which many men of good families have deemed
themselves fortunate to have, he must e'en seek a better fortune
elsewhere. For my part, I will in no wise hinder him, but shall be well
pleased if he can find some condition wherein to live according to his
deserts."

Robertet was as prompt to bear this answer to the Count as he had been
to prefer his request to the King. The Count replied that with the
King's permission he was resolved to depart, and, like one whom fear
urges to flight, he did not tarry even four and twenty hours; but,
just as the King was sitting down to table, came to take leave of him,
feigning much sorrow that his need should force him from the Royal
presence.

He also went to take leave of the King's mother, who parted from him
no less joyfully than she had formerly received him as a kinsman and
friend. And thus he returned to his own country; and the King, seeing
his mother and courtiers in amazement at his sudden departure, told
them of the fright he had given him, saying that, even if the Count
were innocent of that which was laid against him, his fear had been
sufficiently great to constrain him to leave a master whose temper he
had not yet come to know.

"For my part, ladies, I can see no reason why the King should have been
moved to risk himself thus against so famous a captain, except that,
forsaking the company and places where Kings find no inferiors ready to
give them battle, he desired to place himself on an equal footing with
one whom he suspected to be his enemy; and this that he might have the
satisfaction of testing the stoutness and valour of his own heart."

"Without a doubt," said Parlamente, "he was in the right; for all the
praise of man cannot so well satisfy a noble heart as its own particular
knowledge and experience of the virtues that God has placed in it."

"The ancients," said Geburon, "long ago showed us that to reach the
Temple of Fame it was necessary to pass through the Temple of Virtue,
and I, who am acquainted with the two persons in your tale, know
right well that the King is indeed one of the most valiant men in his
kingdom."

"By my word," said Hircan, "at the time when Count William came to
France, I should have feared his [the King's] sword more than those of
the four most accomplished Italian gentlemen at Court."

"We well know," said Ennasuite, "that he is too famous for our praises
to equal his merit, and that the day would be spent before we each could
say all the good we think of him. And so, madam, I pray you, give your
vote to one who will tell us some further good of men, if such there
be."

Then said Oisille to Hircan--

"It seems to me that, as you are so wont to speak ill of women, you will
find it easy to tell us some good story in praise of a man. I therefore
give you my vote."

"That can I easily do," said Hircan, "for but a little while since I was
told a story in praise of a gentleman whose love, constancy and patience
are so meritorious that I must not suffer them to be forgotten."

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[Illustration: 205a.jpg The Student escaping the Temptation]

[The Student escaping the Temptation]

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_TALE XVIII_.

_A young student of noble birth, being smitten with love for
a very beautiful lady, subdued both love and himself in
order to achieve his end, and this in spite of many such
temptations as might have sufficed to make him break his
promise. And so all his woes were turned to joy by a reward
suitable to his constant, patient, loyal and perfect love_.
(1)

1 This story seems to be based on fact, being corroborated
in its main lines by Brantome, but there is nothing in the
narrative to admit of the personages referred to being
identified.--Ed.

In one of the goodly towns of the kingdom of France there dwelt a
nobleman of good birth, who attended the schools that he might learn how
virtue and honour are to be acquired among virtuous men. But although
he was so accomplished that at the age of seventeen or eighteen years he
was, as it were, both precept and example to others, Love failed not to
add his lesson to the rest; and, that he might be the better hearkened
to and received, concealed himself in the face and the eyes of the
fairest lady in the whole country round, who had come to the city in
order to advance a suit-at-law. But before Love sought to vanquish the
gentleman by means of this lady's beauty, he had first won her heart by
letting her see the perfections of this young lord; for in good looks,
grace, sense and excellence of speech he was surpassed by none.

You, who know what speedy way is made by the fire of love when once it
fastens on the heart and fancy, will readily imagine that between two
subjects so perfect as these it knew little pause until it had them at
its will, and had so filled them with its clear light, that thought,
wish and speech were all aflame with it. Youth, begetting fear in the
young lord, led him to urge his suit with all the gentleness imaginable;
but she, being conquered by love, had no need of force to win her.
Nevertheless, shame, which tarries with ladies as long as it can,
for some time restrained her from declaring her mind. But at last the
heart's fortress, which is honour's abode, was shattered in such sort
that the poor lady consented to that which she had never been minded to
refuse.

In order, however, to make trial of her lover's patience, constancy
and love, she only granted him what he sought on a very hard condition,
assuring him that if he fulfilled it she would love him perfectly for
ever; whereas, if he failed in it, he would certainly never win her as
long as he lived. And the condition was this:--she would be willing to
talk with him, both being in bed together, clad in their linen only, but
he was to ask nothing more from her than words and kisses.

He, thinking there was no joy to be compared to that which she promised
him, agreed to the proposal, and that evening the promise was kept; in
such wise that, despite all the caresses she bestowed on him and the
temptations that beset him, he would not break his oath. And albeit his
torment seemed to him no less than that of Purgatory, yet was his
love so great and his hope so strong, sure as he felt of the ceaseless
continuance of the love he had thus painfully won, that he preserved his
patience and rose from beside her without having done anything contrary
to her expressed wish. (2)

2 Brantome's _Dames Galantes_ contains an anecdote which is
very similar in character to this tale: "I have heard
speak," he writes, "of a very beautiful and honourable lady,
who gave her lover an assignation to sleep with her, on the
condition that he should not touch her... and he actually
obeyed her, remaining in a state of ecstasy, temptation and
continence the whole night long; whereat she was so well
pleased with him that some time afterwards she consented to
become his mistress, giving as her reason that she had
wished to prove his love by his obedience to her
injunctions; and on this account she afterwards loved him
the more, for she felt sure that he was capable of even a
greater feat than this, though it were a very great one."--
Lalanne's _OEuvres de Brantome_, vol. ix. pp. 6, 7.--L.

The lady was, I think, more astonished than pleased by such virtue; and
giving no heed to the honour, patience and faithfulness her lover had
shown in the keeping of his oath, she forthwith suspected that his love
was not so great as she had thought, or else that he had found her less
pleasing than he had expected.

She therefore resolved, before keeping her promise, to make a further
trial of the love he bore her; and to this end she begged him to
talk to a girl in her service, who was younger than herself and very
beautiful, bidding him make love speeches to her, so that those who saw
him come so often to the house might think that it was for the sake of
this damsel and not of herself.

The young lord, feeling sure that his own love was returned in equal
measure, was wholly obedient to her commands, and for love of her
compelled himself to make love to the girl; and she, finding him so
handsome and well-spoken, believed his lies more than other truth, and
loved him as much as though she herself were greatly loved by him.

The mistress finding that matters were thus well advanced, albeit the
young lord did not cease to claim her promise, granted him permission to
come and see her at one hour after midnight, saying that after having so
fully tested the love and obedience he had shown towards her, it was but
just that he should be rewarded for his long patience. Of the lover's
joy on hearing this you need have no doubt, and he failed not to arrive
at the appointed time.

But the lady, still wishing to try the strength of his love, had said to
her beautiful damsel--

"I am well aware of the love a certain nobleman bears to you, and I
think you are no less in love with him; and I feel so much pity for you
both, that I have resolved to afford you time and place that you may
converse together at your ease."

The damsel was so enchanted that she could not conceal her longings, but
answered that she would not fail to be present.

In obedience, therefore, to her mistress's counsel and command, she
undressed herself and lay down on a handsome bed, in a room the door of
which the lady left half-open, whilst within she set a light so that the
maiden's beauty might be clearly seen. Then she herself pretended to go
away, but hid herself near to the bed so carefully that she could not be
seen.

Her poor lover, thinking to find her according to her promise, failed
not to enter the room as softly as he could, at the appointed hour; and
after he had shut the door and put off his garments and fur shoes, he
got into the bed, where he looked to find what he desired. But no
sooner did he put out his arms to embrace her whom he believed to be his
mistress, than the poor girl, believing him entirely her own, had her
arms round his neck, speaking to him the while in such loving words and
with so beautiful a countenance, that there is not a hermit so holy but
he would have forgotten his beads for love of her.

But when the gentleman recognised her with both eye and ear, and found
he was not with her for whose sake he had so greatly suffered, the love
that had made him get so quickly into the bed, made him rise from it
still more quickly. And in anger equally with mistress and damsel, he
said--

"Neither your folly nor the malice of her who put you there can make
me other than I am. But do you try to be an honest woman, for you shall
never lose that good name through me."

So saying he rushed out of the room in the greatest wrath imaginable,
and it was long before he returned to see his mistress. However love,
which is never without hope, assured him that the greater and more
manifest his constancy was proved to be by all these trials, the longer
and more delightful would be his bliss.

The lady, who had seen and heard all that passed, was so delighted and
amazed at beholding the depth and constancy of his love, that she was
impatient to see him again in order to ask his forgiveness for the
sorrow that she had caused him to endure. And as soon as she could meet
with him, she failed not to address him in such excellent and pleasant
words, that he not only forgot all his troubles but even deemed
them very fortunate, seeing that their issue was to the glory of his
constancy and the perfect assurance of his love, the fruit of which he
enjoyed from that time forth as fully as he could desire, without either
hindrance or vexation. (3)

3 In reference to this story, Montaigne says in his Essay
on Cruelty: "Such as have sensuality to encounter, willingly
make use of this argument, that when it is at the height it
subjects us to that degree that a man's reason can have no
access... wherein they conceive that the pleasure doth so
transport us that our reason cannot perform its office
whilst we are so benumbed and extacied in delight.... But I
know that a man may triumph over the utmost effort of this
pleasure: I have experienced it in myself, and have not
found Venus so imperious a goddess as many--and some more
reformed than I--declare. I do not consider it as a miracle,
as the Queen of Navarre does in one of the Tales of her
_Heptameron_ (which is a marvellous pretty book of the
kind), nor for a thing of extreme difficulty to pass over
whole nights, where a man has all the convenience and
liberty he can desire, with a long-coveted mistress, and yet
be just to his faith first given to satisfy himself with
kisses and innocent embraces only, without pressing any
further."--Cotton's "Montaigne's Essays", London, 1743, vol
ii. pp. 109-10.

"I pray you, ladies, find me if you can a woman who has ever shown
herself as constant, patient and true as was this man. They who have
experienced the like temptations deem those in the pictures of Saint
Antony very small in comparison; for one who can remain chaste and
patient in spite of beauty, love, opportunity and leisure, will have
virtue enough to vanquish every devil."

"Tis a pity," said Oisille, "that he did not address his love to a woman
possessing as much virtue as he possessed himself. Their amour would
then have been the most perfect and honourable that was ever heard of."

"But prithee tell me," said Geburon, "which of the two trials do you
deem the harder?"

"I think the last," said Parlamente, "for resentment is the strongest of
all temptations."

Longarine said she thought that the first was the most arduous to
sustain, since to keep his promise it was needful he should subdue both
love and himself.

"It is all very well for you to talk," said Simontault, "it is for us
who know the truth of the matter to say what we think of it. For my own
part, I think he was stupid the first time and witless the second; for
I make no doubt that, while he was keeping his promise, to his mistress,
she was put to as much trouble as himself, if not more. She had him take
the oath only in order to make herself out a more virtuous woman than
she really was; she must have well known that strong love will not be
bound by commandment or oath, or aught else on earth, and she simply
sought to give a show of virtue to her vice, as though she could be won
only through heroic virtues. And the second time he was witless to leave
a woman who loved him, and who was worth more than his pledged mistress,
especially when his displeasure at the trick played upon him had been a
sound excuse."

Here Dagoucin put in that he was of the contrary opinion, and held that
the gentleman had on the first occasion shown himself constant, patient
and true, and on the second occasion loyal and perfect in his love.

"And how can we tell," asked Saffredent, "that he was not one of those
that a certain chapter calls _de frigidis et malificiatis?_" (4)

4 This is an allusion to the penalties pronounced by
several ecclesiastical Councils, and specified in the
Capitularies, against those who endeavoured to suspend the
procreative faculties of their enemies by resorting to
magic. On this matter Baluze's collection of Capitularies
(vol. i.) may be consulted. The "chapter" referred to by
Margaret is evidently chapter xv. (book vi.) of the
Decretals of Pope Boniface VIII., which bears the title of
_De frigidis et maleficiatis_, and which is alluded to by
Rabelais in _Pantagruel_. The belief in the practices in
question dates back to ancient times, and was shared by
Plato and Pliny, the latter of whom says that to guard
against any spell of the kind some wolf fat should be rubbed
upon the threshold and door jambs of one's bed-chamber. In
the sixteenth century sorcery of this description was so
generally believed in, in some parts of France, that
Cardinal du Perron inserted special prayers against it in
the ritual. Some particulars on the subject will be found in
the _Admirables Secrets du Petit Albert_, and also in a
_Traite d'Enchantement_, published at La Rochelle in 1591,
which gives details concerning certain practices alleged to
take place on the solemnisation of marriage among those of
the Reformed Church.--D. and L.

"To complete his eulogy, Hircan ought to have told us how he comported
himself when he obtained what he wanted, and then we should have been
able to judge whether it was virtue or impotence that made him observe
so much discretion."

"You may be sure," said Hircan, "that had he told me this I should have
concealed it as little as I did the rest. Nevertheless, from seeing his
person and knowing his temper, I shall ever hold that his conduct was
due to the power of love rather than to any impotence or coldness."

"Well, if he was such as you say," said Simontault, "he ought to have
broken his oath; for, had the lady been angered by such a trifle, it
would have been easy to appease her."

"Nay," said Ennasuite, "perhaps she would not then have consented."

"And pray," said Saffredent, "would it not have been easy enough to
compel her, since she had herself given him the opportunity?"

"By Our Lady!" said Nomerfide, "how you run on! Is that the way to win
the favour of a lady who is accounted virtuous and discreet?"

"In my opinion," said Saffredent, "the highest honour that can be paid
to a woman from whom such things are desired is to take her by force,
for there is not the pettiest damsel among them but seeks to be long
entreated. Some indeed there are who must receive many gifts before they
are won, whilst there are others so stupid that hardly any device or
craft can enable one to win them, and with these one must needs be ever
thinking of some means or other. But when you have to do with a woman
who is too clever to be deceived, and too virtuous to be gained by words
or gifts, is there not good reason to employ any means whatever that may
be at your disposal to vanquish her? When you hear it said that a man
has taken a woman by force, you may be sure that the woman has left him
hopeless of any other means succeeding, and you should not think any
the worse of a man who has risked his life in order to give scope to his
love."

Geburon burst out laughing.

"In my day," said he, "I have seen besieged places stormed because it
was impossible to bring the garrison to a parley either by money or by
threats; 'tis said that a place which begins to treat is half taken."

"You may think," said Ennasuite, "that every love on earth is based upon
such follies as these, but there are those who have loved, and who have
long persevered in their love, with very different aims."

"If you know a story of that kind," said Hircan, "I will give place to
you for the telling of it."

"I do know one," said Ennasuite, "and I will very willingly relate it."

[Illustration: 216.jpg Tailpiece]

APPENDIX.

A. (Tale VIII., Page i.)

Tales of a similar character to this will be found in the following
works written prior to Margaret's time:--

Legrand d'Aussy's collection of _Fabliaux ou Contes du XIIeme et XIIIeme
siecles_ (vol. iii.).

Boccaccio's _Decameron_ (day viii., story iv.).

Enguerrand d'Oisy's _Le Meunier d'Aleu_.

Poggio's _Facetio ( Vir sibi cornua promovens)_.

Sacchetti's _Novelle_ (vol. ii., No. ccvi.).

Morlini's _Novelle_ (No. lxxix.).

_Les Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles_ (story ix.).

Malespini's _Ducento Novelle_ (part ii., No. xcvi.).

Of the foregoing, says M. de Montaiglon, Margaret could only have been
acquainted with the _Decameron_, the _Cent Nouvelles_, and Poggio's
_Facetio_, which had been translated into French by Tardix (see Nos. cv.
and ex. of that translation).

A similar story in Latin verse is also contained in a fourteenth century
MS. at Monte Cassino. See _I codici e le arti a Monte Cassino_, by D.
Andrea Caravita (vol. ii. p. 289).

Since Margaret's time stories of the same character have appeared in the
following works:--

Melander's _Jocondia_ (p. 298).

Phil. Beroalde's _Contes Latins_ (see _Poggii Imitationes_, Noel's ed.,
vol. ii. p. 245).

Guicciardini's _Hore di Recreazione_ (p. 103).

J. Bouchet's _Serees_ (No. 8; Roybet's ed., vol. ii. p. 115).

Gabrielle Chapuys' _Facetieuses Journees_ (p. 213).

La Fontaine's _Contes_ (book v., No. viii.:_ Les Quiproquo_). _Le
Passe-Temps Agreable_ (p. 27).

Moreover, a song written on the same subject will be found, says M.
de Lincy, on folio 44 of the _Premier Recueil de toutes les chansons
nouvelles_ (Troyes, Nicholas du Ruau, 1590). It is there called "The
facetious and recreative story of a certain labourer of a village near
Paris, who, thinking that he was enjoying his servant, lay with his
wife." This song was reprinted in various other collections of the
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.

B (Tale XL (B.), Page 95.)

An anecdote in keeping with this story will be found in Brantome's
miscellaneous works (Petitot's ed., vol. viii. pp. 382-4). The author
of _Les Dames Galantes_, after alluding to his aunt Louise de
Bourdeille--who was brought up at Court by Anne of Brittany--proceeds to
say:--

"A certain Grey Friar, who habitually preached before the Queen, fell so
deeply in love with Mademoiselle de Bourdeille that he completely lost
his wits, and sometimes in his sermons, whilst speaking of the beauty
of the holy virgins of past times, he would so forget himself as to say
some words respecting the beauty of my said aunt, not to mention the
soft glances which he cast at her. And sometimes, whilst in the Queen's
room, he would take great pleasure in discoursing to her, not with words
of love however, for he would have incurred a whipping, but with other
covert words which tended towards love. My aunt in no wise approved
of his discourses, and made some mention of them to her own and her
companions' governess. The Queen heard of the matter and could not
believe it, on account of this man's cloth and holiness. For this reason
she kept silent until a certain Good Friday, when, in accordance with
custom, this friar preached before her on the Holy Passion. The ladies
and the maids, including my aunt, being seated as was their wont before
the reverend father, in full view of him, he, as though giving out the
text and introit of his sermon, began to say: 'It is for you, lovely
humanity, it is for you that I suffer this day. Thus on a certain
occasion spake our Lord Jesus Christ.' Then proceeding with his sermon
the friar chronicled all the sufferings and afflictions which Jesus
endured for mankind at His death upon the Cross, and these he compared
to the sufferings that he himself endured on account of my aunt; but in
such covert, such disguised words that even the most enlightened might
have failed to understand their meaning. Queen Anne, however, who was
very expert both in mind and judgment, laid hold of this, and took
counsel as to the real meaning of the sermon, both with certain lords
and ladies and certain learned men who were there present. They all
pronounced the sermon to be most scandalous, and the Grey Friar most
deserving of punishment; for which reason he was secretly chastised and
whipped, and then driven away, without any scandal being made. Such was
the Queen's reply to the amours of this Grey Friar; and thus was my aunt
well avenged on him for the way in which he had so often importuned her.
In those times it was not allowable, under divers penalties, either to
contradict or to refuse to speak to such people, who, so it was thought,
conversed only of God and the salvation of the soul."

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