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

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"That she may not lose the memory of this villain I cause her to be
served with his skull, (2) in place of a cup, when she is eating and
drinking at table, and this always in my presence, so that she may
behold, alive, him whom her guilt has made her mortal enemy, and dead,
through love of her, him whose love she did prefer to mine. And in this
wise, at dinner and at supper, she sees the two things that must be most
displeasing to her, to wit, her living enemy, and her dead lover; and
all this through her own great sinfulness.

2 It will be remembered that the Lombard King Alboin forced
his wife Rosamond to drink his health out of a goblet which
had been made from the skull of her father Cunimond,
sovereign of the Gepidae. To revenge herself for this
affront, Rosamond caused her husband to be murdered one
night during his sleep in his palace at Pavia.--Ed.

"In other matters I treat her as I do myself, save that she goes
shorn; for an array of hair beseems not the adulterous, nor a veil the
unchaste.

"For this reason is her hair cut, showing that she has lost the honour
of virginity and purity. Should it please you to take the trouble to see
her, I will lead you to her."

To this Bernage willingly consented, and going-downstairs they found her
in a very handsome apartment, seated all alone in front of the fire. The
gentleman drew aside a curtain that hung in front of a large cupboard,
wherein could be seen hanging a dead man's bones. Bernage greatly longed
to speak to the lady, but durst not do so for fear of the husband. The
gentleman, perceiving this, thereupon said to him--

"If it be your pleasure to say anything to her, you will see what manner
of grace and speech is hers."

Then said Bernage to her--"Lady, your patience is as great as your
torment. I hold you to be the most unhappy woman alive."

With tears in her eyes, and with the humblest grace imaginable, the lady
answered--

"Sir, I acknowledge my offence to have been so great that all the woes
that the lord of this house (for I am not worthy to call him husband)
may be pleased to lay upon me are nothing in comparison with the grief I
feel at having offended him."

So saying, she began to weep bitterly. The gentleman took Bernage by the
arm and led him away.

On the following morning Bernage took his leave, in order to proceed
on the mission that the King had given him. However, in bidding the
gentleman farewell, he could not refrain from saying to him--

"Sir, the love I bear you, and the honour and friendship that you have
shown me in your house, constrain me to tell you that, having regard to
the deep penitence of your unhappy wife, you should, in my opinion, take
compassion upon her. You are, moreover, young and have no children, and
it would be a great pity that so fair a lineage should come to an end,
and that those who, perhaps, have no love for you, should become your
heirs."

The gentleman, who had resolved that he would never more speak to his
wife, pondered a long time on the discourse held to him by the Lord de
Bernage, and at last recognised that he had spoken truly, and promised
him that, if his wife should continue in her present humility, he would
at some time have pity upon her.

Accordingly Bernage departed on his mission, and when he had returned
to his master, the King, he told him the whole story, which the Prince,
upon inquiry, found to be true. And as Bernage among other things had
made mention of the lady's beauty, the King sent his painter, who was
called John of Paris, (3) that he might make and bring him a living
portrait of her, which, with her husband's consent, he did. And when she
had long done penance, the gentleman, in his desire to have offspring,
and in the pity that he felt for his wife who had submitted to this
penance with so much humility, took her back again and afterwards had by
her many handsome children. (4)

3 John Perreal, called "Jehan de Paris," was one of the
most famous painters of the reigns of Charles VIII. and
Louis XII. At the end of 1496 we find him resident at Lyons,
and there enjoying considerable celebrity. From October 1498
to November 1499 he figures in the roll of officers of the
royal household, as valet of the wardrobe, with a salary of
240 livres. In the royal stable accounts for 1508 he appears
as receiving ten livres to defray the expense of keeping a
horse during June and July that year. He is known to have
painted the portrait and planned the obsequies of Philibert
of Savoy in 1509; to have been sent to England in 1514 to
paint a portrait of the Princess Mary, sister of Henry
VIII., who married Louis XII.; and in 1515 to have had
charge of all the decorative work connected with Louis
XII.'s obsequies. In his _Legende des Venitiens_ (1509) John
Le Maire de Belges praises Perreal's skill both in landscape
and portrait painting, and describes him as a most
painstaking and hardworking artist. He had previously
referred to him in his _Temple d'Honneur et de Vertu_ (1504)
as being already at that period painter to the King. In the
roll of the officers of Francis I.'s household (1522)
Perreal's name takes precedence of that of the better known
Jehannet Clouet, but it does not appear in that of 1529,
about which time he would appear to have died. Shortly
before that date he had designed some curious initial
letters for the famous Parisian printer and bookseller,
Tory. The Claud Perreal, "Lyonnese," whom Clement Marot
commemorates in his 36th _Rondeau_ would appear to have been
a relative, possibly the son, of "Jehan de Paris."--See Leon
de La Borde's _Renaissance des Arts_, vol. i., Pericaud
aine's _Notice sur Jean de Paris_, Lyons, 1858, and more
particularly E. M. Bancel's _Jehan Perreal dit Jean de
Paris, peintre et valet-de-chambre des rois Charles VIII.
Louis XII., &c_. Paris, Launette, 1884.--L. and M.

4 Brantome refers to this tale, as an example of marital
cruelty, in his _Vies des Dames Galantes_, Lalanne's
edition, vol. ix. p. 38.--L.

"If, ladies, all those whom a like adventure has befallen, were to drink
out of similar vessels, I greatly fear that many a gilt cup would be
turned into a death's head. May God keep us from such a fortune, for
if His goodness do not restrain us, there is none among us but might
do even worse; but if we trust in Him He will protect those who confess
that they are not able to protect themselves. Those who confide in
their own strength are in great danger of being tempted so far as to
be constrained to acknowledge their frailty. Many have stumbled through
pride in this way, while those who were reputed less discreet have been
saved with honour. The old proverb says truly, 'Whatsoever God keeps is
well kept.'"

"The punishment," said Parlamente, "was in my opinion a most reasonable
one, for, just as the offence was more than death, so ought the
punishment to have been."

"I am not of your opinion," said Ennasuite. "I would rather see the
bones of all my lovers hanging up in my cabinet than die on their
account. There is no misdeed that cannot be repaired during life, but
after death there is no reparation possible."

"How can shame be repaired?" said Longarine. "You know that, whatever
a woman may do after a misdeed of that kind, she cannot repair her
honour."

"I pray you," said Ennasuite, "tell me whether the Magdalen has not now
more honour among men than her sister who continued a virgin?" (5)

5 Martha, sister of Lazarus and Mary Magdalen.--M.

"I acknowledge," said Longarine, "that we praise her for the great love
she bore to Jesus Christ and for her deep repentance; yet the name of
sinner clings to her."

"I do not care what name men may give me," said Ennasuite, "if only God
forgive me, and my husband do the same. There is nothing for which I
should be willing to die."

"If the lady loved her husband as she ought," said Dagoucin, "I am
amazed that she did not die of sorrow on looking at the bones of the man
whom her guilt had slain."

"Why, Dagoucin," returned Simontault, "have you still to learn that
women know neither love nor even grief?"

"Yes, I have still to learn it," said Dagoucin, "for I have never made
trial of their love, through fear of finding it less than I desired."

"Then you live on faith and hope," said Nomerfide, "as the plover does
on air. (6) You are easily fed."

6 This popular error was still so prevalent in France in
the last century, that Buffon, in his Natural History, took
the trouble to refute it at length.--B. J.

"I am content," he replied, "with the love that I feel within myself,
and with the hope that there is the like in the hearts of the ladies. If
I knew that my hopes were true, I should have such gladness that I could
not endure it and live."

"Keep clear of the plague," said Geburon; "as for the other sickness
you mention, I will warrant you against it. But I should like to know to
whom the Lady Oisille will give her vote?"

"I give it," she said, "to Simontault, who I know will be sparing of
none."

"That," he replied, "is as much as to say that I am somewhat given to
slander; however, I will show you that reputed slanderers have spoken
the truth. I am sure, ladies, that you are not so foolish as to believe
all the tales that you are told, no matter what show of sanctity they
may possess, if the proof of them be not clear beyond doubt. Many an
abuse lurks even under the guise of a miracle, and for this reason I am
minded to tell you the story of a miracle that will prove no less to the
honour of a pious Prince than to the shame of a wicked minister of the
Church."

[Illustration: 028.jpg Tailpiece]

[Illustration: 029a.jpg The Execution of the Wicked Priest and his Sister]

[The Execution of the Wicked Priest and his Sister]

[Illustration: 029.jpg Page Image]

_TALE XXXIII_.

_The hypocrisy of a priest who, under the cloak of sanctity,
had got his sister with child, was discovered by the wisdom
of the Count of Angouleme, by whose command they both were
visited with punishment by law_. (1)

Count Charles of Angouleme, father of King Francis, a pious Prince and
one that feared God, happened to be at Coignac when he was told that
in a village called Cherues, (2) not far away, there dwelt a maiden who
lived a marvellously austere life, and who, for all that, was now great
with child. She made no secret of the matter, but assured every one that
she had never known a man and that she could not tell how such a fortune
should have befallen her, unless indeed it were the work of the Holy
Ghost. This explanation the people readily received, and knowing as they
all did how virtuous she had been from her youth up, and how she had
never given a single token of worldliness, they believed and deemed her
a second Virgin Mary. She used to fast not only on the days commanded by
the Church, but, from natural devotion, several times a week also; and
she never stirred from the church whenever there was a service going on
there. For these reasons she was held in such great repute among all the
vulgar that every one came to see her as though she were a miracle, and
those who succeeded in touching her dress deemed themselves fortunate
indeed.

1 This tale is historical, the incidents must have occurred
between 1480 and 1490.--L.

2 Cherves-de-Cognac, now a large village of nearly 3000
inhabitants, within four miles of Cognac. The church, where
some of the incidents recorded in the tale occurred, is
still in existence. It dates from the eleventh and twelfth
centuries, and is surmounted by three cupolas.--Eu.

The priest of the parish was her brother; he was a man advanced in
years and of very austere life, and was loved and reverenced by his
parishioners, who held him for a holy man. He treated his sister
with such harshness as to keep her shut up in a house, to the great
discontent of all the people; and so greatly was the matter noised
abroad that, as I have told you, the story reached the ear of the Count.
He perceived that the people were being deceived, and, wishing to set
them right, sent a Master of Requests and an Almoner, two very worthy
men, to learn the truth. These repaired to the spot and inquired into
the matter with all possible diligence, addressing themselves for
information to the priest, who, being weary of the whole affair, begged
them to be present at an examination which he hoped to hold on the
morrow.

Early the next morning the said priest chanted mass, his sister, who was
now far gone with child, being present on her knees; and when mass was
over, the priest took the "Corpus Domini," and in presence of the whole
congregation said to his sister--

"Unhappy woman that you are, here is He who suffered death and agony for
you, and in His presence I ask you whether, as you have ever affirmed to
me, you are indeed a virgin?"

She boldly replied that she was.

"How is it possible that you can be with child and yet be still a
virgin?"

"I can give no reason," she replied, "except that the grace of the
Holy Ghost has wrought within me according to His good pleasure;
nevertheless, I cannot deny the grace that God has shown me in
preserving me a virgin without ever a thought of marriage."

Forthwith her brother said to her--

"I offer you the precious Body of Jesus Christ, which you will take to
your damnation if it be not as you say; and the gentlemen here present
on behalf of my lord the Count shall be witnesses thereof."

The maiden, who was nearly thirty years of age, (3) then swore as
follows:--

"I take this Body of Our Lord, here present, to my damnation in the
presence of you, gentlemen, and of you, my brother, if ever man has
touched me any more than yourself."

And with these words she received the Body of Our Lord.

Having witnessed this, the Master of Requests and the Almoner went away
quite confounded, for they thought that no lie was possible with such an
oath. And they reported the matter to the Count, and tried to persuade
him even as they were themselves persuaded. But he was a man of wisdom,
(4) and, after pondering a long time, bade them again repeat the terms
of the oath. And after weighing them well, he said--

"She has told you the truth and yet she has deceived you. She said that
no man had ever touched her any more than her brother had done, and I
feel sure that her brother has begotten this child and now seeks to hide
his wickedness by a monstrous deception. We, however, who believe that
Jesus Christ has come, can look for none other. Go, therefore, and put
the priest in prison; I am sure that he will confess the truth."

3 In the MS. followed for this edition, as well as in
Boaistuau's-version of the _Heptameron_, the age is given as
"thirteen." We borrow the word "thirty" from MS. 1518
(Bethune).--L.

4 Charles of Angouleme, father of King Francis and Queen
Margaret, had received for the times a most excellent
education, thanks to the solicitude of his father, Count
John the Good, who further took upon himself to "instruct
him in morality, showing him by a good example how to live
virtuously and honestly, and teaching him to pray God and
obey His commandments."--_Vie de tres illustre et vertueux
Prince Jean, Comte d'Angouleme_, by Jean du Port, Angouleme,
1589, p. 66. That Count Charles profited by this teaching is
shown in the above tale.--ED.

This was done according to his command, though not without serious
remonstrances concerning the putting of this virtuous man to open shame.

Albeit, as soon as the priest had been taken, he made confession of his
wickedness, and told how he had counselled his sister to speak as she
had done in order to conceal the life they had led together, not only
because the excuse was one easy to be made, but also because such a
false statement would enable them to continue living honoured by all.
And when they set before him his great wickedness in taking the Body of
Our Lord for her to swear upon, he made answer that he had not been so
daring, but had used a wafer that was unconsecrated and unblessed.

Report was made of the matter to the Count of Angouleme, who commanded
that the law should take its course. They waited until the sister had
been delivered, and then, after she had been brought to bed of a fine
male child, they burned brother and sister together. And all the people
marvelled exceedingly at finding beneath the cloak of holiness so
horrible a monster, and beneath a pious and praiseworthy life indulgence
in so hateful a crime.

"By this you see, ladies, how the faith of the good Count was not
lessened by outward signs and miracles. He well knew that we have but
one Saviour, who, when He said 'Consummatum est,' (5) showed that no
room was left for any successor to work our salvation."

5 "When Jesus therefore had received the vinegar, He said,
It is finished."--St. John xix. 30.--M.

"It was indeed," said Oisille, "great daring and extreme hypocrisy to
throw the cloak of Godliness and true Christianity over so enormous a
sin."

"I have heard," said Hircan, "that such as under pretext of a commission
from the King do cruel and tyrannous deeds, receive a double punishment
for having screened their own injustice behind the justice of the Crown.
In the same way, we see that although hypocrites prosper for a time
beneath the cloak of God and holiness, yet, when the Lord God lifts His
cloak, they find themselves exposed and bare, and then their foul and
abominable nakedness is deemed all the more hideous for having had so
honourable a covering."

"Nothing can be pleasanter," said Nomerfide, "than to speak forth
frankly the thoughts that are in the heart."

"Yes, for profit's sake," (6) replied Longarine. "I have no doubt that
you give your opinion according to your temper."

6 This sentence is rather obscure in the MSS., and we have
adopted the reading suggested by M. Frank. M. Lacroix,
however, was of opinion that the sentence should run, "Yes,
for mirth's sake."--M.

"I will tell you what it is," said Nomerfide. "I find that fools, when
they are not put to death, live longer than wise folk, and the only
reason that I know for this, is that they do not conceal their passions.
If they be angry, they strike; if they be merry, they laugh: whereas
those that aim at wisdom conceal their imperfections with such exceeding
care that they end by thoroughly corrupting their hearts."

"I think you are right," said Geburon, "and that hypocrisy, whether
towards God, man or Nature, is the cause of all our ills."

"It would be a glorious thing," said Parlamente, "if our hearts were so
filled with faith in Him, who is all virtue and all joy, that we could
freely show them to every one."

"That will come to pass," said Hircan, "when all the flesh has left our
bones."

"Yet," said Oisille, "the Spirit of God, which is stronger than Death,
is able to mortify our hearts without changing or destroying the body."

"Madam," returned Saffredent, "you speak of a gift of God that is not as
yet common among mankind."

"It is common," said Oisille, "among those that have faith, but as this
is a matter not to be understood by such as are fleshly minded, let us
see to whom Simontault will give his vote."

"I will give it," said Simontault, "to Nomerfide, for, since her heart
is merry, her words cannot be sad."

"Truly," said Nomerfide, "since you desire to laugh, I will give you
reason to do so. That you may learn how hurtful are ignorance and fear,
and how the lack of comprehension is often the cause of much woe, I
will tell you what happened to two Grey Friars, who, through failing to
understand the words of a butcher, thought that they were about to die."

[Illustration: 037.jpg Tailpiece]

[Illustration: 039a.jpg The Grey Friar imploring the Butcher to Spare his Life]

[The Grey Friar imploring the Butcher to Spare his Life]

[Illustration: 039.jpg Page Image]

_TALE XXXIV_.

_Two Grey Friars, while listening to secrets that did not
concern them, misunderstood the language of a butcher and
endangered their lives_. (1)

Between Nyort and Fors there is a village called Grip, (2) which belongs
to the Lord of Fors.

1 This story is evidently founded upon fact; the incidents
must have occurred prior to 1530.--L.

2 Gript, a little village on the Courance, eight miles
south of Niort (Deux-Sevres), produces some of the best
white wine in this part of France. Its church of St. Aubin
stood partly in the diocese of Poitiers, partly in that of
Saintes, the altar being in the former, and the door in the
latter one. This is the only known instance of the kind in
France. Fors, a few miles distant from Gript, was a fief
which Catherine, daughter of Artus de Vivonne, brought in
marriage to James Poussart, knight, who witnessed the Queen
of Navarre's marriage contract, signing himself, "Seigneur
de Fors, Bailly du Berry." He is often mentioned in the
Queen's letters.--See Genin's _Lettres de Marguerite, &c_,
pp. 243-244, 258-259, 332.--L. and M.

It happened one day that two Grey Friars, on their way from Nyort,
arrived very late at this place, Grip, and lodged in the house of a
butcher. Now, as there was nothing between their host's room and their
own but a badly joined partition of wood, they had a mind to listen to
what the husband might say to his wife when he was in bed with her, and
accordingly they set their ears close to the head of their host's bed.
He, having no thought of his lodgers, spoke privately with his wife
concerning their household, and said to her--

"I must rise betimes in the morning, sweetheart, and see after our Grey
Friars. One of them is very fat, and must be killed; we will salt him
forthwith and make a good profit off him."

And although by "Grey Friars" he meant his pigs, the two poor brethren,
on hearing this plot, felt sure that they themselves were spoken of, (3)
and so waited with great fear and trembling for the dawn.

3 The butcher doubtless called his pigs "Grey Friars" in
allusion to the latter's gluttony and uncleanly habits. Pigs
are even nowadays termed _moines_ (monks) by the peasantry
in some parts of France. Moreover, the French often render
our expression "fat as a pig" by "fat as a monk."--Ed.

One of them was very fat and the other rather lean. The fat one wished
to confess himself to his companion, saying that a butcher who had lost
the love and fear of God would think no more of slaughtering him than if
he were an ox or any other beast; and adding that as they were shut up
in their room and could not leave it without passing through that
of their host, they must needs look upon themselves as dead men, and
commend their souls to God. But the younger Friar, who was not so
overcome with fear as his comrade, made answer that, as the door was
closed against them, they must e'en try to get through the window, for,
whatever befel them, they could meet with nothing worse than death; to
which the fat Friar agreed.

The young one then opened the window, and, finding that it was not very
high above the ground, leaped lightly down and fled as fast and as far
as he could, without waiting for his companion. The latter attempted the
same hazardous jump, but in place of leaping, fell so heavily by reason
of his weight, that one of his legs was sorely hurt, and he could not
rise from the ground.

Finding himself forsaken by his companion and being unable to follow
him, he looked around him to see where he might hide, and could espy
nothing save a pigsty, to which he dragged himself as well as he could.
And as he opened the door to hide himself within, out rushed two huge
pigs, whose place the unhappy Friar took, closing the little door upon
himself, and hoping that, when he heard the sound of passers-by, he
would be able to call out and obtain assistance.

As soon as the morning was come, however, the butcher got ready his big
knives, and bade his wife bear him company whilst he went to slaughter
his fat pig. And when he reached the sty in which the Grey Friar lay
concealed, he opened the little door and began to call at the top of his
voice--

"Come out, Master Grey Friar, come out! I intend to have some of your
chitterlings to-day."

The poor Friar, who was not able to stand upon his leg, crawled on
all-fours out of the sty, crying for mercy as loud as he could. But if
the hapless Friar was in great terror, the butcher and his wife were in
no less; for they thought that St. Francis was wrathful with them for
calling a beast a Grey Friar, and therefore threw themselves upon their
knees asking pardon of St. Francis and his Order. Thus, the Friar was
crying to the butcher for mercy on the one hand, and the butcher to
the Friar on the other, in such sort that a quarter of an hour went by
before they felt safe from each other.

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