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

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The Friar, who had not yet satisfied his wicked lust, thereupon went
back to bed with the bride, until his comrade gave him a signal that it
was time to leave.

The bridegroom afterwards came to bed, and his wife, who had been so
tormented by the Friar that she desired naught but rest, could not help
saying to him--

"Have you resolved never to sleep or do anything but torment me?"

The unhappy husband, who had but just come in, was greatly astonished
at this, and asked what torment he had given her, seeing that he had not
left the dance.

"A pretty dance!" said the poor girl. "This is the third time that you
have come to bed. I think you would do better to sleep."

The husband was greatly astonished on hearing these words, and set aside
thought of everything else in order that he might learn the truth of
what had passed.

When his wife had told him the story, he at once suspected the Grey
Friars who were lodged in the house, and forthwith rising, he went into
their room, which was close beside his own.

Not finding them there, he began to call out for help in so loud a voice
that he speedily drew together all his friends, who, when they had heard
the tale, assisted him with candles, lanterns, and all the dogs of the
village to hunt for the Grey Friars.

Not finding them in the house, they made all diligence, and so caught
them among the vines, where they treated them as they deserved; for,
after soundly beating them, they cut off their arms and legs, and left
them among the vines to the care of Bacchus and Venus, of whom they had
been better disciples than of St. Francis.

"Be not amazed, ladies, if such folk, being cut off from our usual
mode of life, do things of which adventurers (2) even would be ashamed.
Wonder rather that they do no worse when God withdraws his hand from
them, for so little does the habit make the monk, that it often unmakes
him through the pride it lends him. For my own part, I go not beyond the
religion that is taught by St. James, who has told us to 'keep the
heart pure and unspotted toward God, and to show all charity to our
neighbours.'"(3)

2 This is an allusion to the dismissed French Swiss, and
German lansquenets who roamed about France in little bands,
kidnapping, plundering, and at times hiring themselves out
as spadassins. These men, the pests of the country, were
commonly known by the name of adventurers.--B. J.

3 "Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is
this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction
and to keep himself unspotted from the world."--_James_ i.
27.--Ed.

"Heavens!" said Oisille, "shall we never have done with tales about
these tiresome Grey Friars?"

Then said Ennasuite--

"If, ladies, princes and gentlemen are not spared, the Grey Friars, it
seems to me, are highly honoured by being noticed. They are so useless
that, were it not that they often do evil things worthy of remembrance,
they would never even be mentioned; and, as the saying goes, it is
better to do evil than to do nothing at all. Besides, the more varied
the flowers the handsomer will our posy be."

"If you will promise not to be angry with me," said Hircan, "I will tell
you the story of a great lady whose wantonness was so extreme that you
will forgive the poor friar for having taken what he needed, where
he was able to find it, seeing that she, who had enough to eat,
nevertheless sought for dainties in too monstrous a fashion."

"Since we have sworn to speak the truth," said Oisille, "we have also
sworn to hear it. You may therefore speak with freedom, for the evil
things that we tell of men and women are not uttered to shame those
that are spoken of in the story, but to take away all trust in created
beings, by revealing the trouble to which these are liable, and this to
the end that we may fix and rest our hope on Him alone who is perfect,
and without whom every man is only imperfection."

"Well then," said Hircan, "I will relate my story without fear."

[Illustration: 218.jpg Tailpiece]

[Illustration: 219a.jpg The Countess facing her Lovers]

[The Countess facing her Lovers]

[Illustration: 219.jpg Page Image]

_TALE XLIX_.

_Same French gentlemen, perceiving that the King their
master was exceedingly well treated by a foreign Countess
whom he loved, ventured to speak to her, and sought her with
such success, that one after another they had from her what
they desired, each, however, believing that he alone
possessed the happiness in which all the others shared. And
this being discovered by one of their number, they all
plotted together to be revenged on her; but, as she showed a
fair countenance and treated them no worse than before, they
brought away in their own bosoms the shame which they had
thought to bring upon her_. (1)

At the Court of King Charles--which Charles I shall not mention, for the
sake of the lady of whom I wish to speak, and whom I shall not call
by her own name--there was a Countess of excellent lineage, (2) but
a foreigner. And as novelties ever please, this lady, both for the
strangeness of her attire and for its exceeding richness, was observed
by all. Though she was not to be ranked among the most beautiful, she
possessed gracefulness, together with a noble assurance that could not
be surpassed; and, moreover, her manner of speech and her seriousness
were to match, so that there was none but feared to accost her excepting
the King, who loved her exceedingly. That he might have still more
intimate converse with her, he gave some mission to the Count, her
husband, which kept him away for a long time, and meanwhile the King
made right good cheer with his wife.

1 The incidents here related must have occurred during the
reign of Charles VIII., probably in or about 1490.--L.

2 This Countess cannot be identified. She was probably the
wife of one of the many Italian noblemen, like the
Caraccioli and San Severini, who entered the French service
about the time of the conquest of Naples. Brantome alludes
to the story in his _Dames Galantes_ (Fourth Discourse) but
gives no names.--Ed.

Several of the King's gentlemen, knowing that their master was well
treated by her, took courage to speak to her, and among the rest was one
called Astillon, (3) a bold man and graceful of bearing.

3 This is James de Chastillon, not, however, J. Gaucher de
Chastillon, "King of Yvetot," as M. de Lincy supposes, but
J. de Coligny-Chastillon, as has been pointed out by M.
Frank. Brantome devotes the Nineteenth Discourse of his
_Capitaines francois_ to this personage, and says: "He had
been one of the great favourites and _mignons_ of King
Charles VIII., even at the time of the journey to the
kingdom of Naples; and 'twas then said, 'Chastillon,
Bourdillon and Bonneval [see post, note 5] govern the royal
blood.'" Wounded in April 1512 at the battle of Ravenna,
"the most bloody battle of the century," he was removed to
Ferrara, where he died (May 25). He was the second husband
of Blanche de Tournon, Lady of Honour to Queen Margaret,
respecting whom see _ante_, vol. i. pp. 84-5, 122-4, and
vol. iv. p. 144, note 2.--L., F. and Ed.

At first she treated him so seriously, threatening to tell of him to the
King his master, that he well-nigh became afraid of her. However, as
he had not been wont to fear the threats even of the most redoubtable
captains, he would not suffer himself to be moved by hers, but pressed
her so closely that she at last consented to speak with him in private,
and taught him the manner in which he should come to her apartment.
This he failed not to do, and, in order that the King might be without
suspicion of the truth, he craved permission to go on a journey, and
set out from the Court. On the very first day, however, he left all his
following and returned at night to receive fulfilment of the promises
that the Countess had made him. These she kept so much to his
satisfaction, that he was content to remain shut up in a closet for five
or six days, without once going out, and living only on restoratives.

During the week that he lay in hiding, one of his companions called
Durassier (4) made love to the Countess. At the beginning she spoke to
this new lover, as she had spoken to the first, with harsh and haughty
speech that grew milder day by day, insomuch that when the time was come
for dismissing the first prisoner, she put the second into his place.
While he was there, another companion of his, named Valnebon, (5) did
the same as the former two, and after these there came yet two or three
more to lodge in the sweet prison.

4 This in all probability is the doughty James Galliot de
Genouillac, who--much in the same way as in our own times
the names of the "Iron Duke" and the "Man of Iron" have been
bestowed on Wellington and Bismarck--was called by his
contemporaries the "Seigneur d'Acier" or "Steel Lord,"
whence "Durassier"--hard steel. Born in Le Quercy in or
about 1466, Genouillac accompanied Charles VIII. on his
Italian expeditions, and, according to Brantome, surpassed
all others in valour and influence. He greatly distinguished
himself at the battle of Fornova (1495), and in 1515 we find
him one of the chief commanders of the French artillery. For
the great skill he displayed at Marignano he was appointed
Grand Master of the Artillery and Seneschal of Armagnac, and
he subsequently became Grand Equerry of France. At Pavia,
where he again commanded the artillery, he would have swept
away the Spaniards had not the French impetuously charged
upon them, preventing him from firing his pieces. Most of
the latter he contrived to save, severe as was the defeat,
and he effectually protected the retreat of the Duke of
Alencon and the Count of Clermont into France. Genouillac
died in 1546, a year after he had been appointed Governor of
Languedoc.--B. J. and Ed.

5 Valnebon is an anagram of the name Bonneval, and Queen
Margaret evidently refers here to a member of the Bonneval
family. In the time of Charles VIII. this illustrious
Limousin house had two principal members, Anthony, one of
the leading counsellors of that king (as of his predecessor
Louis XI. and his successor Louis XII.), and Germain, also a
royal counsellor and chamberlain. The heroes of the above
story being military men and old friends and comrades, it is
probable that the reference is to Germain de Bonneval, he,
like Chastillon and Genouillac, having accompanied Charles
VIII. on his expedition into Italy. Germain de Bonneval,
moreover, was one of the seven noblemen who fought at the
battle of Fornova, clad and armed exactly like the French
king. He perished at the memorable defeat of Pavia in 1525.
From him descended, in a direct line, the famous eighteenth
century adventurer, Claud Alexander, Count de Bonneval.--B.
J. and Ed.

This manner of life continued for a long time, and was so skilfully
contrived that none of the lovers knew aught of the others; and although
they were aware of the love that each of them bore the lady, there
was not one but believed himself to be the only successful suitor, and
laughed at his comrades who, as he thought, had failed to win such great
happiness.

One day when the gentlemen aforesaid were at a banquet where they made
right good cheer, they began to speak of their several fortunes and of
the prisons in which they had lain during the wars. Valnebon, however,
who found it a hard task to conceal the great good fortune he had met
with, began saying to his comrades--

"I know not what prisons have been yours, but for my own part, for love
of one wherein I once lay, I shall all my life long give praise and
honour to the rest. I think that no pleasure on earth comes near that of
being kept a prisoner."

Astillon, who had been the first captive, had a suspicion of the prison
that he meant, and replied--

"What gaoler, Valnebon, man or woman, treated you so well that you
became so fond of your prison?"

"Whoever the gaoler may have been," said Valnebon, "my prisonment was
so pleasant that I would willingly have had it last longer. Never was I
better treated or more content."

Durassier, who was a man of few words, clearly perceived that they were
discussing the prison in which he had shared like the rest; so he said
to Valnebon--

"On what meats were you fed in the prison that you praise so highly?"

"What meats?" said Valnebon. "The King himself has none better or more
nourishing."

"But I should also like to know," said Durassier, "whether your keeper
made you earn your bread properly?"

Valnebon, suspecting that he had been understood, could not hold from
swearing.

"God's grace!" said he. "Had I indeed comrades where I believed myself
alone?"

Perceiving this dispute, wherein he had part like the rest, Astillon
laughed and said--

"We all serve one master, and have been comrades and friends from
boyhood; if, then, we are comrades in the same good fortune, we can but
laugh at it. But, to see whether what I imagine be true, pray let me
question you, and do you confess the truth to me; for if that which I
fancy has befallen us, it is as amusing an adventure as could be found
in any book."

They all swore to tell the truth if the matter were such as they could
not deny.

Then said he to them--

"I will tell you my own fortune, and you will tell me, ay or nay, if
yours has been the same."

To this they all agreed, whereupon he said--

"I asked leave of the King to go on a journey."

"So," they replied, "did we."

"When I was two leagues from the Court, I left all my following and went
and yielded myself up prisoner."

"We," they replied, "did the same."

"I remained," said Astillon, "for seven or eight days, and lay in a
closet where I was fed on nothing but restoratives and the choicest
viands that I ever ate. At the end of a week, those who held me
captive suffered me to depart much weaker in body than I had been on my
arrival."

They all swore that the like had happened to them.

"My imprisonment," said Astillon, "began on such a day and finished on
such another."

"Mine," thereupon said Durassier, "began on the very day that yours
ended, and lasted until such a day."

Valnebon, who was losing patience, began to swear.

"'Sblood!" said he, "from what I can see, I, who thought myself the
first and only one, was the third, for I went in on such a day and came
out on such another."

Three others, who were at the table, swore that they had followed in
like order.

"Well, since that is so," said Astillon, "I will mention the condition
of our gaoler. She is married, and her husband is a long way off."

"'Tis even she," they all replied.

"Well, to put us out of our pain," said Astillon, "I, who was first
enrolled, shall also be the first to name her. It was my lady the
Countess, she who was so extremely haughty that in conquering her
affection I felt as though I had conquered Caesar."

[Said Valnebon--(6)]

6 It is probable that the angry Valnebon is speaking here,
and that his name has been accidentally omitted from the
MSS. At all events the three subsequent paragraphs show that
these remarks are not made by Astillon, who declines the
other speaker's advice, and proposes a scheme of his own.--
Ed.

"To the devil with the jade, who gave us so much toil, and made us
believe ourselves so fortunate in winning her! Never was there such
wantonness, for while she kept one in hiding she was practising upon
another, so that she might never be without diversion. I would rather
die than suffer her to go unpunished."

Each thereupon asked him what he thought ought to be done to her, saying
that they were all ready to do it.

"I think," said he, "that we ought to tell the King our master, who
prizes her as though she were a goddess.

"By no means," said Astillon; "we are ourselves able to take vengeance
upon her, without calling in the aid of our master. Let us all be
present to-morrow when she goes to mass, each of us wearing an iron
chain about his neck. Then, when she enters the church, we will greet
her as shall be fitting."

This counsel was highly approved by the whole company, and each provided
himself with an iron chain. The next morning they all went, dressed in
black and with their iron chains twisted like collars round their necks,
to meet the Countess as she was going to church. And as soon as she saw
them thus attired, she began to laugh and asked them--

"Whither go such doleful folk?"

"Madam," said Astillon, "we are come to attend you as poor captive
slaves constrained to do your service."

The Countess, feigning not to understand, replied--

"You are not my captives, and I cannot understand that you have more
occasion than others to do me service."

Thereupon Valnebon stepped forward and said to her--

"After eating your bread for so long a time, we should be ungrateful
indeed if we did not serve you."

She made excellent show of not understanding the matter, thinking by
this seriousness to confound them; but they pursued their discourse
in such sort that she saw that all was discovered. So she immediately
devised a means of baffling them, for, having lost honour and
conscience, she would in no wise take to herself the shame that they
thought to bring upon her. On the contrary, like one who set her
pleasure before all earthly honour, she neither changed her countenance
nor treated them worse than before, whereat they were so confounded,
that they carried away in their own bosoms the shame they had thought to
bring upon her.

"If, ladies, you do not consider this story enough to prove that women
are as bad as men, I will seek out others of the same kind to relate to
you. Nevertheless I think that this one will suffice to show you that a
woman who has lost shame is far bolder to do evil than a man."

There was not a woman in the company that heard this story, who did not
make as many signs of the cross as if all the devils in hell were before
her eyes. However, Oisille said--

"Ladies, let us humble ourselves at hearing of so terrible a
circumstance, and the more so as she who is forsaken by God becomes like
him with whom she unites; for even as those who cleave to God have His
spirit within them, so is it with those that cleave to His opposite,
whence it comes that nothing can be more brutish than one devoid of the
Spirit of God."

"Whatever the poor lady may have done," said Ennasuite, "I nevertheless
cannot praise the men who boasted of their imprisonment."

"It is my opinion," said Longarine, "that a man finds it as troublesome
to conceal his good fortune as to pursue it. There is never a hunter but
delights to wind his horn over his quarry, nor lover but would fain have
credit for his conquest."

"That," said Simontault, "is an opinion which I would hold to be
heretical in presence of all the Inquisitors of the Faith, for there are
more men than women that can keep a secret, and I know right well that
some might be found who would rather forego their happiness than have
any human being know of it. For this reason has the Church, like a wise
mother, ordained men to be confessors and not women, seeing that the
latter can conceal nothing."

"That is not the reason," said Oisille; "it is because women are such
enemies of vice that they would not grant absolution with the same
readiness as is shown by men, and would be too stern in their penances."

"If they were as stern in their penances," said Dagoucin, "as they are
in their responses, they would reduce far more sinners to despair than
they would draw to salvation; and so the Church has in every sort well
ordained. But, for all that, I will not excuse the gentlemen who thus
boasted of their prison, for never was a man honoured by speaking evil
of a woman."

"Since they all fared alike," said Hircan, "it seems to me that they did
well to console one another."

"Nay," said Geburon, "they should never have acknowledged it for the
sake of their own honour. The books of the Round Table (7) teach us that
it is not to the honour of a worthy knight to overcome one that is good
for naught."

7 Queen Margaret was well acquainted with these (see
_ante_, vol. iii. p. 48). In a list drawn up after her
father's death, of the two hundred volumes of books in his
library, a most remarkable one for the times, we find
specified several copies of "Lancelot," "Tristan," &c, some
in MS. with miniatures and illuminated letters, and others
printed on parchment. Besides numerous religious writings,
volumes of Aristotle, Ovid, Mandeville, Dante, the
Chronicles of St. Denis, and the "Book of the Great Khan,
bound in cloth of gold," the library contained various works
of a character akin to that of the _Heptameron_. For
instance, a copy of the _Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles_ in print;
a French translation of Poggio's _Facetio_, also in print,
and two copies of Boccaccio in MS., one of them bound in
purple velvet, and richly illuminated, each page having a
border of blue and silver. This last if still in existence
would be very valuable.--Eu.

"I am amazed," said Longarine, "that the unhappy woman did not die of
shame in presence of her captives."

"Those who have lost shame," said Oisille, "can hardly ever recover it,
excepting, however, she that has forgotten it through deep love. Of such
have I seen many return."

"I think," said Hircan, "that you must have seen the return of as many
as went, for deep love in a woman is difficult to find."

"I am not of your opinion," said Longarine; "I think that there are some
women who have loved to death."

"So exceedingly do I desire to hear a tale of that kind," said Hircan,
"that I give you my vote in order to learn of a love in women that I had
never deemed them to possess."

"Well, if you hearken," said Longarine, "you will believe, and will see
that there is no stronger passion than love. But while it prompts one
to almost impossible enterprises for the sake of winning some portion
of happiness in this life, so does it more than any other passion reduce
that man or woman to despair, who loses the hope of gaining what is
longed for. This indeed you will see from the following story."

[Illustration: 232.jpg Tailpiece]

[Illustration: 233a.jpg The Lady killing herself on the Death of her Lover]

[The Lady killing herself on the Death of her Lover]

[Illustration: 233.jpg Page Image]

_TALE L_.

_Messire John Peter for a long time wooed in vain a
neighbour of his by whom he was sorely smitten, and to
divert his humour withdrew for a few days from the sight of
her; but this brought so deep a melancholy upon him that the
doctors ordered him to be bled. The lady, who knew whence
his distemper proceeded, then thought to save his life, but
did indeed hasten his death, by granting him that which she
had always refused. Then, reflecting that she was herself
the cause of the loss of so perfect a lover, she dealt
herself a sword-thrust that made her a partner in his fate_.
(1)

In the town of Cremona not long ago there lived a gentleman called
Messire John Peter, (2) who had long loved a lady that dwelt near to his
own house; but strive as he might he was never able to have of her the
reply that he desired, albeit he loved her with his whole heart. Being
greatly grieved and troubled at this, the poor gentleman withdrew into
his lodging with the resolve that he would no longer vainly pursue the
happiness the quest of which was devouring his life; and accordingly, to
divert his humour, he passed a few days without seeing her. This caused
him to fall into deep sadness, so that his countenance was no longer the
same. His kinsfolk summoned the doctors, who, finding that his face was
growing yellow, thought that he had some obstruction of the liver and
ordered a blood-letting.

1 The incidents here narrated probably occurred in or about
1544.--L.

2 "Jehan Pietre" (Pietro) in the MSS.--Ed.

The lady, who had dealt so sternly with him, knew very well that his
sickness was caused by her refusal alone, and she sent to him an old
woman in whom she trusted, to tell him that, since she saw his love to
be genuine and unfeigned, she was now resolved to grant him all that
which she had refused him so long. She had therefore devised a means to
leave her house and go to a place where he might privately see her.

The gentleman, who that same morning had been bled in the arm,
found himself better cured by this message than by any medicine or
bloodletting he could have had, and he sent word that he would be at the
place without fail at the hour she had appointed. He added that she had
wrought an evident miracle, since with one word she had cured a man of a
sickness for which all the doctors were not able to find a remedy.

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