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

M >> Margaret, Queen Of Navarre >> The Tales Of The Heptameron, Vol. III. (of V.)

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"Nevertheless, I am glad it should be so, and that God in His grace
should have caused me to die before the vehemence of my love has stained
my conscience and my fair fame; for smaller fires have ere now destroyed
greater and stronger structures. And I am glad that before dying I have
been able to make known to you that my affection is equal to your own,
save only that men's honour and women's are not the same thing. And
I pray you, my lord, fear not henceforward to address yourself to the
greatest and most virtuous of ladies; for in such hearts do the deepest
and discreetest passions dwell, and moreover, your own grace and beauty
and worth will not suffer your love to toil without reward.

"I will not beg you, my lord, to pray God for me, because I know full
well that the gate of Paradise is never closed against true lovers, and
that the fire of love punishes lovers so severely in this life here
that they are forgiven the sharp torment of Purgatory. And now, my lord,
farewell; I commend to you your good father, my husband. Tell him the
truth as you have heard it from me, that he may know how I have loved
God and him. And come no more before my eyes, for I now desire to think
only of obtaining those promises made to me by God before the creation
of the world."

With these words she kissed him and embraced him with all the strength
of her feeble arms. The young lord, whose heart was as nearly dead
through pity as hers was through pain, was unable to say a single word.
He withdrew from her sight to a bed that was in the room, and there
several times swooned away.

Then the lady called her husband, and, after giving him much virtuous
counsel, commended the Lord of Avannes to him, declaring that next to
himself she had loved him more than any one upon earth, and so, kissing
her husband, she bade him farewell. Then, after the extreme unction, the
Holy Sacrament was brought to her from the altar, and this she received
with the joy of one who is assured of her salvation. And finding that
her sight was growing dim and her strength failing her, she began to
utter the "In manus" aloud.

Hearing this cry, the Lord of Avannes raised himself up on the bed where
he was lying, and gazing piteously upon her, beheld her with a gentle
sigh surrender her glorious soul to Him from whom it had come. When he
perceived that she was dead, he ran to the body, which when alive he had
ever approached with fear, and kissed and embraced it in such wise that
he could hardly be separated from it, whereat the husband was greatly
astonished, for he had never believed he bore her so much affection; and
with the words, "Tis too much, my lord," he led him away.

After he had lamented for a great while, the Lord of Avannes related all
the converse they had had together during their love, and how, until her
death, she had never given him sign of aught save severity. This, while
it gave the husband exceeding joy, also increased his grief and sorrow
at the loss he had sustained, and for the remainder of his days he
rendered service to the Lord of Avannes.

But from that time forward my Lord of Avannes, who was then only
eighteen years old, went to reside at Court, where he lived for many
years without wishing to see or to speak with any living woman by reason
of his grief for the lady he had lost; and he wore mourning for her sake
during more than ten years. (6)

6 Some extracts from Brantome bearing on this story will be
found in the Appendix, C.

"You here see, ladies, what a difference there is between a wanton lady
and a discreet one. The effects of love are also different in each case;
for the one came by a glorious and praiseworthy death, while the other
lived only too long with the reputation of a vile and shameless woman.
Just as the death of a saint is precious in the sight of God, so is the
death of a sinner abhorrent."

"In truth, Saffredent," said Oisille, "you have told us the finest tale
imaginable, and any one who knew the hero would deem it better still.
I have never seen a handsomer or more graceful gentleman than was this
Lord of Avannes."

"She was indeed a very virtuous woman," said Saffredent. "So as to
appear outwardly more virtuous than she was in her heart, and to conceal
her love for this worthy lord which reason and nature had inspired,
she must needs die rather than take the pleasure which she secretly
desired."

"If she had felt such a desire," said Parlamente, "she would have lacked
neither place nor opportunity to make it known; but the greatness of her
virtue prevented her desire from exceeding the bounds of reason."

"You may paint her as you will," said Hircan, "but I know very well that
a stronger devil always thrusts out the weaker, and that the pride of
ladies seeks pleasure rather than the fear and love of God. Their robes
are long and well woven with dissimulation, so that we cannot tell what
is beneath, for if their honour were not more easily stained than ours,
(7) you would find that Nature's work is as complete in them as in
ourselves. But not daring to take the pleasure they desire, they have
exchanged that vice for a greater, which they deem more honourable, I
mean a self-sufficient cruelty, whereby they look to obtain everlasting
renown.

7 This reading is borrowed from MS. No. 1520. In the MS.
mainly followed for this translation, the passage runs as
follows-"if their honour were not more easily stained than
their hearts."--L.

By thus glorying in their resistance to the vice of Nature's law--if,
indeed, anything natural be vicious--they become not only like inhuman
and cruel beasts, but even like the devils whose pride and subtility
they borrow." (8)

8 This reading is borrowed from MS. No. 1520. In our MS.
the passage runs--"like the devils whose semblance and
subtility they borrow."--L.

"Tis a pity," said Nomerfide, "that you should have an honourable wife,
for you not only think lightly of virtue, but are even fain to prove
that it is vice."

"I am very glad," said Hircan, "to have a wife of good repute, just
as I, myself, would be of good repute. But as for chastity of heart, I
believe that we are both children of Adam and Eve; wherefore, when we
examine ourselves, we have no need to cover our nakedness with leaves,
but should rather confess our frailty."

"I know," said Parlamente, "that we all have need of God's grace, being
all steeped in sin; but, for all that, our temptations are not similar
to yours, and if we sin through pride, no one is injured by it, nor
do our bodies and hands receive a stain. But your pleasure consists in
dishonouring women, and your honour in slaying men in war--two things
expressly contrary to the law of God." (9)

"I admit what you say," said Geburon, "but God has said, 'Whosoever
looketh with lust, hath already committed adultery in his heart,' and
further, 'Whosoever hateth his neighbour is a murderer.' (10) Do you
think that women offend less against these texts than we?"

9 This sentence, defective in our MS., is taken from No.
1520.--L.

10 1 St. John iii. 15.--M.

"God, who judges the heart," said Longarine, "must decide that. But it
is an important thing that men should not be able to accuse us, for the
goodness of God is so great, that He will not judge us unless there
be an accuser. And so well, moreover, does He know the frailty of our
hearts, that He will even love us for not having put our thoughts into
execution."

"I pray you," said Saffredent, "let us leave this dispute, for it
savours more of a sermon than of a tale. I give my vote to Ennasuite,
and beg that she will bear in mind to make us laugh."

"Indeed," said she, "I will not fail to do so; for I would have you know
that whilst coming hither, resolved upon relating a fine story to you
to-day, I was told so merry a tale about two servants of a Princess,
that, in laughing at it, I quite forgot the melancholy story which I had
prepared, and which I will put off until to-morrow; for, with the merry
face I now have, you would scarce find it to your liking."

[Illustration: 170.jpg Tailpiece]

[Illustration: 171a.jpg The Secretary imploring the Lady not To Tell Of His Wickedness]

[The Secretary imploring the Lady not To Tell Of His Wickedness]

[Illustration: 171.jpg Page Image]

_TALE XXVII_.

_A secretary sought the wife of his host and comrade in
dishonourable and unlawful love, and as she made show of
willingly giving ear to him, he was persuaded that he had
won her. But she was virtuous, and, while dissembling
towards him, deceived his hopes and made known his
viciousness to her husband_. (1)

1 The incidents here related would have occurred at Amboise
between 1540 and 1545. The hero of the story would probably
be John Frotte, Queen Margaret's First Secretary, who also
apparently figures in Tale XXVIII. The Sires de Frotte had
been in the service of the Dukes of Alencon since the early
part of the fifteenth century. Ste-Marthe says of John
Frotte that he was a man of great experience and good wit,
prudent, dutiful and diligent. He died secretary to Francis
I.--L. and B. J.

In the town of Amboise there lived one of this Princess's servants, an
honest man who served her in the quality of valet-de-chambre, and who
used readily to entertain those that visited his house, more especially
his own comrades; and not long since one of his mistress's servants came
to lodge with him, and remained with him ten or twelve days.

This man was so ugly that he looked more like a King of the cannibals
than a Christian, and although his host treated him as a friend and a
brother, and with all the courtesy imaginable, he behaved in return not
only like one who has forgotten all honour, but as one who has never had
it in his heart. For he sought, in dishonourable and unlawful love, his
comrade's wife, who was in no sort attractive to lust but rather the
reverse, and was moreover as virtuous a woman as any in the town in
which she lived. When she perceived the man's evil intent, she thought
it better to employ dissimulation in order to bring his viciousness to
light, rather than conceal it by a sudden refusal; and she therefore
made a pretence of approving his discourse. He then believed he had won
her, and, paying no heed to her age, which was that of fifty years, or
to her lack of beauty, or her reputation as a virtuous woman attached to
her husband, he urged his suit continually.

One day, the husband being in the house, the wife and her suitor were in
a large room together, when she pretended that he had but to find some
safe spot in order to have such private converse with her as he desired.
He immediately replied that it was only necessary to go up to the
garret. She instantly rose, and begged him to go first, saying that
she would follow. Smiling with as sweet a countenance as that of a big
baboon entertaining a friend, he went lightly up the stairway; and,
on the tip-toe of expectation with regard to that which he so greatly
desired, burning with a fire not clear, like that of juniper, but dense
like that of coal in the furnace, he listened whether she was coming
after him. But instead of hearing her footsteps, he heard her voice
saying--

"Wait, master secretary, for a little; I am going to find out whether it
be my husband's pleasure that I should go up to you."

His face when laughing was ugly indeed, and you may imagine, ladies, how
it looked when he wept; but he came down instantly, with tears in his
eyes, and besought her for the love of God not to say aught that would
destroy the friendship between his comrade and himself.

"I am sure," she replied, "that you like him too well to say anything he
may not hear. I shall therefore go and tell him of the matter."

And this, in spite of all his entreaties and threats, she did. And if
his shame thereat was great as he fled the place, the husband's joy
was no less on hearing of the honourable deception that his wife had
practised; indeed, so pleased was he with his wife's virtue that he
took no notice of his comrade's viciousness, deeming him sufficiently
punished inasmuch as the shame he had thought to work in another's
household had fallen upon his own head.

"I think that from this tale honest people should learn not to admit to
their houses those whose conscience, heart and understanding know nought
of God, honour and true love."

"Though your tale be short," said Oisille, "it is as pleasant as any I
have heard, and it is to the honour of a virtuous woman."

"'Fore God," said Simontault, "it is no great honour for a virtuous
woman to refuse a man so ugly as you represent this secretary to have
been. Had he been handsome and polite, her virtue would then have been
clear. I think I know who he is, and, if it were my turn, I could tell
you another story about him that is no less droll."

"Let that be no hindrance," said Ennasuite, "for I give you my vote."

Thereupon Simontault began as follows:--

"Those who are accustomed to dwell at Court or in large towns value
their own knowledge so highly that they think very little of all other
men in comparison with themselves; but, for all that, there are subtle
and crafty folk to be found in every condition of life. Still, when
those who think themselves the cleverest are caught tripping, their
pride makes the jest a particularly pleasant one, and this I will try to
show by telling you of something that lately happened."

[Illustration: 175.jpg Tailpiece]

[Illustration: 177a.jpg The Secretary Opening the Pasty]

[The Secretary Opening the Pasty]

[Illustration: 177.jpg Page Image]

_TALE XXVIII_.

_A secretary, thinking to deceive Bernard du Ha, was by him
cunningly deceived_. (1)

1 The incidents of this story must have occurred subsequent
to 1527. The secretary is doubtless John Frotte. We have
failed to identify the Lieutenant referred to.--M. and Ed.

It chanced that when King Francis, first of the name, was in the city of
Paris, and with him his sister, the Queen of Navarre, the latter had a
secretary called John. He was not one of those who allow a good thing to
lie on the ground for want of picking it up, and there was, accordingly,
not a president or a councillor whom he did not know, and not a merchant
or a rich man with whom he had not intercourse and correspondence.

At this time there also arrived in Paris a merchant of Bayonne, called
Bernard du Ha, who, both on account of the nature of his commerce and
because the Lieutenant for Criminal Affairs (2) was a countryman of his,
was wont to address himself to that officer for counsel and assistance
in the transaction of his business. The Queen of Navarre's secretary
used also frequently to visit the Lieutenant as one who was a good
servant to his master and mistress.

2 The Provost of Paris, who, in the King's name,
administered justice at the Chatelet court, and upon whose
sergeants fell the duty of arresting and imprisoning all
vagabonds, criminals and disturbers of the peace, was
assisted in his functions by three lieutenants, one for
criminal affairs, one for civil affairs, and one for
ordinary police duties.--Ed.

One feast-day the secretary went to the Lieutenant's house, and found
both him and his wife abroad; but he very plainly heard Bernard du Ha
teaching the serving-women to foot the Gascon dances to the sound of a
viol or some other instrument. And when the secretary saw him, he
would have had him believe that he was committing the greatest offence
imaginable, and that if the Lieutenant and his wife knew of it they
would be greatly displeased with him. And after setting the fear of this
well before his eyes, until, indeed, the other begged him not to say
anything about it, he asked--

"What will you give me if I keep silence?"

Bernard du Ha, who was by no means so much afraid as he seemed to be,
saw that the secretary was trying to cozen him, and promised to give him
a pasty of the best Basque ham (3) that he had ever eaten. The secretary
was well pleased at this, and begged that he might have the pasty on the
following Sunday after dinner, which was promised him.

3 So-called Bayonne ham is still held in repute in France.
It comes really from Orthez and Salies in Beam.--D.

Relying upon this promise, he went to see a lady of Paris whom above all
things he desired to marry, and said to her--

"On Sunday, mistress, I will come and sup with you, if such be your
pleasure. But trouble not to provide aught save some good bread and
wine, for I have so deceived a foolish fellow from Bayonne that all the
rest will be at his expense; by my trickery you shall taste the best
Basque ham that ever was eaten in Paris."

The lady believed his story, and called together two or three of the
most honourable ladies of her neighbourhood, telling them that she would
give them a new dish such as they had never tasted before.

When Sunday was come, the secretary went to look for his merchant, and
finding him on the Pont-au-Change, (4) saluted him graciously and said--

"The devil take you, for the trouble you have given me to find you."

4 The oldest of the Paris bridges, spanning the Seine
between the Chatelet and the Palais. Originally called the
Grand-Pont, it acquired the name of Pont-au-Change through
Louis VII. allowing the money-changers to build their houses
and offices upon it in 1141.--Ed.

Bernard du Ha made reply that a good many men had taken more trouble
than he without being rewarded in the end with such a dainty dish. So
saying, he showed him the pasty, which he was carrying under his cloak,
and which was big enough to feed an army. The secretary was so glad to
see it that, although he had a very large and ugly mouth, he mincingly
made it so small that one would not have thought him capable of biting
the ham with it. He quickly took the pasty, and, without waiting for
the merchant to go with him, went off with it to the lady, who was
exceedingly eager to learn whether the fare of Gascony was as good as
that of Paris.

When supper-time was come and they were eating their soup, the secretary
said--

"Leave those savourless dishes alone, and let us taste this loveworthy
whet for wine."

So saying, he opened the huge pasty, but, where he expected to find
ham, he found such hardness that he could not thrust in his knife. After
trying several times, it occurred to him that he had been deceived; and,
indeed, he found 'twas a wooden shoe such as is worn in Gascony. It had
a burnt stick for knuckle, and was powdered upon the top with iron rust
and sweet-smelling spice.

If ever a man was abashed it was the secretary, not only because he had
been deceived by the man whom he himself had thought to deceive, but
also because he had deceived her to whom he had intended and thought
to speak the truth. Moreover, he was much put out at having to content
himself with soup for supper.

The ladies, who were well-nigh as vexed as he was, would have accused
him of practising this deception had they not clearly seen by his face
that he was more wroth than they.

After this slight supper, the secretary went away in great anger,
intending, since Bernard du Ha had broken his promise, to break also his
own. He therefore betook himself to the Lieutenant's house, resolved to
say the worst he could about the said Bernard.

Quick as he went, however, Bernard was first afield and had already
related the whole story to the Lieutenant, who, in passing sentence,
told the secretary that he had now learnt to his cost what it was to
deceive a Gascon, and this was all the comfort that the secretary got in
his shame.

The same thing befalls many who, believing that they are exceedingly
clever, forget themselves in their cleverness; wherefore we should never
do unto others differently than we would have them do unto us.

"I can assure you," said Geburon, "that I have often known similar
things to come to pass, and have seen men who were deemed rustic
blockheads deceive very shrewd people. None can be more foolish than
he who thinks himself shrewd, nor wiser than he who knows his own
nothingness."

"Still," said Parlamente, "a man who knows that he knows nothing, knows
something after all."

"Now," said Simontault, "for fear lest time should fail us for our
discourse, I give my vote to Nomerfide, for I am sure that her rhetoric
will keep us no long while."

"Well," she replied, "I will tell you a tale such as you desire.

"I am not surprised, ladies, that love should afford Princes the means
of escaping from danger, for they are bred up in the midst of so many
well-informed persons that I should marvel still more if they were
ignorant of anything. But the smaller the intelligence the more clearly
is the inventiveness of love displayed, and for this reason I will
relate to you a trick played by a priest through the prompting of love
alone. In all other matters he was so ignorant that he could scarcely
read his mass."

[Illustration: 183.jpg Tailpiece]

[Illustration: 185a.jpg The Husbandman surprised by the Fall of the Winnowing Fan]

[The Husbandman surprised by the Fall of the Winnowing Fan]

[Illustration: 185.jpg Page Image]

_TALE XXIX_.

_A parson, surprised by the sudden return of a husbandman
with whose wife he was making good cheer, quickly devised a
means for saving himself at the expense of the worthy man,
who was never any the wiser_. (1)

1 Etienne brings this story into his _Apologie pour
Herodote_, ch xv.--B. J.

At a village called Carrelles, (2) in the county of Maine, there dwelt
a rich husbandman who in his old age had married a fair young wife. She
bore him no children, but consoled herself for this disappointment with
several lovers.

2 Carrelles is at six leagues from Mayenne, in the canton of
Gorron. Margaret's first husband, the Duke of Alencon, held
various fiefs in this part of Maine, which would account for
the incident related in the story coming to her knowledge.--
M. and Ed.

When gentlemen and persons of consequence failed her, she turned as a
last resource to the Church, and took for companion in her sin him who
could absolve her of it--that is to say, the parson, who often came to
visit his pet ewe. The husband, who was dull and old, had no suspicion
of the truth; but, as he was a stern and sturdy man, his wife played
her game as secretly as she was able, fearing that, if it came to her
husband's knowledge, he would kill her.

One day when he was abroad, his wife, thinking that he would not soon
return, sent for his reverence the parson, who came to confess her; and
while they were making good cheer together, her husband arrived, and
this so suddenly that the priest had not the time to escape out of the
house.

Looking about for a means of concealment, he mounted by the woman's
advice into a loft, and covered the trap-door through which he passed
with a winnowing fan.

The husband entered the house, and his wife, fearing lest he might
suspect something, regaled him exceedingly well at dinner, never sparing
the liquor, of which he drank so much, that, being moreover wearied with
his work in the fields, he at last fell asleep in his chair in front of
the fire.

The parson, tired with waiting so long in the loft, and hearing no noise
in the room beneath, leaned over the trap-door, and, stretching out his
neck as far as he was able, perceived the goodman to be asleep. However,
whilst he was looking at him, he leaned by mischance so heavily upon the
fan, that both fan and himself tumbled down by the side of the sleeper.
The latter awoke at the noise, but the priest was on his feet before the
other had perceived him, and said--

"There is your fan, my friend, and many thanks to you for it."

With these words he took to flight. The poor husbandman was in utter
bewilderment.

"What is this?" he asked of his wife. "'Tis your fan, sweetheart," she
replied, "which the parson had borrowed, and has just brought back."

Thereupon in a grumbling fashion the goodman rejoined--

"'Tis a rude way of returning what one has borrowed, for I thought the
house was coming down."

In this way did the parson save himself at the expense of the goodman,
who discovered nothing to find fault with except the rudeness with which
the fan had been returned.

"The master, ladies, whom the parson served, saved him that time so that
he might afterwards possess and torment him the longer."

"Do not imagine," said Geburon, "that simple folk are more devoid of
craft than we are; (3) nay, they have a still larger share. Consider the
thieves and murderers and sorcerers and coiners, and all the people of
that sort, whose brains are never at rest; they are all poor and of the
class of artisans."

"I do not think it strange," said Parlamente, "that they should have
more craft than others, but rather that love should torment them amid
their many toils, and that so gentle a passion should lodge in hearts so
base."

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