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

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

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But Love, which is ever changeful of mood, could not suffer him to live
long in such repose, but, filling him with self-conceit and hope, led
him to make known his love, in the expectation that she would then hold
him still more dear.

One day, when the Princess was in the garden, the lady Jambicque went to
walk in a pathway by herself. The gentleman, seeing that she was alone,
went up to converse with her, and, as though he had never elsewhere met
her, spoke as follows--

"Mistress, I have long borne towards you in my heart an affection which,
through dread of displeasing you, I have never ventured to reveal. But
now my pain has come to be such that I can no longer endure it and live,
for I think that no man could ever have loved you as I do."

The Lady Jambicque would not allow him to finish his discourse, but said
to him in great wrath--

"Did you ever hear or see that I had sweetheart or lover? I trow not,
and am indeed astonished to find you bold enough to address such words
to a virtuous woman like me. You have lived in the same house long
enough to know that I shall never love other than my husband; beware,
then, of speaking further after this fashion."

At this hypocrisy the gentleman could not refrain from laughing and
saying to her--

"You are not always so stern, madam, as you are now. What boots it to
use such concealment towards me? Is it not better to have a perfect than
an imperfect love?"

"I have no love for you," replied Jambicque, "whether perfect or
imperfect, except such as I bear to the rest of my mistress's servants.
But if you speak further to me as you have spoken now, I shall perhaps
have such hatred for you as may be to your hurt."

However, the gentleman persisted in his discourse.

"Where," said he, "is the kindness that you show me when I cannot see
you? Why do you withhold it from me now when the light suffers me to
behold both your beauty and your excellent and perfect grace?"

Jambicque, making a great sign of the cross, replied--

"Either you have lost your understanding or you are the greatest liar
alive. Never in my life have I to my knowledge shown you more kindness
or less than I do at this moment, and I pray you therefore tell me what
it is you mean."

Then the unhappy gentleman, thinking to better his fortune with her,
told her of the place where he had met her, and of the chalk-mark which
he had made in order to recognise her, on hearing which she was so
beside herself with anger as to tell him that he was the wickedest of
men, and that she would bring him to repent of the foul falsehood that
he had invented against her.

The gentleman, knowing how well she stood with her mistress, sought to
soothe her, but he found it impossible to do so; for, leaving him where
he stood, she furiously betook herself to her mistress, who, loving
Jambicque as she did herself, left all the company to come and speak
with her, and, on finding her in such great wrath, inquired of her what
the matter was. Thereupon Jambicque, who had no wish to hide it, related
all the gentleman's discourse, and this she did so much to the unhappy
man's disadvantage, that on the very same evening his mistress commanded
him to withdraw forthwith to his own home without speaking with anyone
and to stay there until he should be sent for. And this he did right
speedily, for fear of worse. (4)

4 It has been mentioned in note 2 that the gentleman in
question was Brantome's uncle La Chastaigneraye. Born,
according to most accounts, in 1520, Francis de Vivonne,
Lord of La Chastaigneraye, was a godson of Francis I., and
early displayed marked skill and prowess in all bodily
exercises and feats of arms. He was, however, of a very
quarrelsome disposition, and had several duels. A dispute
arising between him and Guy de Chabot, Lord of Jarnac, they
solicited permission to fight, but Francis I. would not
accord it, and it was only after the accession of Henry II.
that the encounter took place. The spot fixed upon was the
park of St. Germain-en-Laye, and the King and the whole
Court were present (July 10, 1547)--In the result, La
Chastaigneraye was literally ham-strung by a back-thrust
known to this day as the _coup de Jarnac_. The victor
thereupon begged the King to accept his adversary's life and
person, and Henry, after telling Jamac that "he had fought
like Caesar and spoken like Cicero," caused La Chastaigneraye
to be carried to his tent that his wound might be dressed.
Deeply humiliated by his defeat, however, the vanquished
combatant tore off his bandages and bled to death.--Ed.

So long as Jambicque dwelt with her mistress, the gentleman returned
not to the Princess's house, nor did he ever have tidings of her who had
vowed to him that he should lose her as soon as he might seek her out.
(5)

5 After referring to this tale Brantome adds that he had
heard tell of another Court lady who was minded to imitate
Jambicque, but who, "every time she returned from her
assignation, went straight to her room, and let one of her
serving maids examine her on all sides to see if she were
marked. By this means she guarded herself against being
surprised and recognised, and indeed was never marked until
at her ninth assignation, when the mark was at once
discovered by her women. And thereupon, for fear of scandal
and opprobrium, she broke off her intrigue and never more
returned to the appointed spot. Some one said 'twould have
been better if she had let her lover mark her as often as he
liked, and each time have had his marks effaced, for in this
wise she would have reaped a double pleasure--contentment in
love and satisfaction at duping her lover, who, like he who
seeks the Philosopher's Stone, would have toiled hard to
discover and identify her, without ever succeeding in doing
so."--(Lalanne's _OEuvres de Brantome_, pp. 236-8).--M.

"By this tale, ladies, you may see how one who preferred the world's
esteem to a good conscience lost both the one and the other. For now
may the eyes of all men read what she strove to hide from those of her
lover, and so, whilst fleeing the derision of one, she has incurred the
derision of all. Nor can she be held excused on the score of simplicity
and artless love, for which all men should have pity, but she must
be condemned twice over for having concealed her wickedness with the
twofold cloak of honour and glory, and for making herself appear before
God and man other than she really was. He, however, who gives not His
glory to another, took this cloak from off her and so brought her to
double shame."

"Her wickedness," said Oisille, "was without excuse. None can defend her
when God, Honour, and even Love are her accusers."

"Nay," said Hircan, "Pleasure and Folly may; they are the true chief
advocates of the ladies."

"If we had no other advocates," said Parlamente, "than those you name,
our cause would indeed be ill supported; but those who are vanquished
by pleasure ought no longer to be called women but rather men, whose
reputation is merely exalted by frenzy and lust. When a man takes
vengeance upon his enemy and slays him for giving him the lie, he is
deemed all the more honourable a gentleman for it; and so, too, when he
loves a dozen women besides his own wife. But the reputation of women
has a different foundation, that, namely, of gentleness, patience and
chastity."

"You speak of the discreet," said Hircan.

"Yes," returned Parlamente, "because I will know none others."

"If none were wanton," said Nomerfide, "those who would fain be believed
by all the world must often have lied."

"Pray, Nomerfide," said Geburon, "receive my vote, and forget that you
are a woman, in order that we may learn what some men that are accounted
truthful say of the follies of your sex."

"Since virtue compels me to it, and you have made it my turn, I will
tell you what I know. I have not heard any lady or gentleman present
speak otherwise than to the disadvantage of the Grey Friars, and out of
pity I have resolved to speak well of them in the story that I am now
about to relate."

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_TALE XLIV.(A)_.

_In reward for not having concealed the truth, the Lord of
Sedan doubled the alms of a Grey Friar, who thus received
two pigs instead of one_. (1)

To the castle of Sedan once came a Grey Friar to ask my Lady of Sedan,
who was of the house of Crouy, (2) for a pig, which she was wont to give
to his Order every year as alms.

1 This tale, though it figures in all the MSS., does not
appear in Gruget's edition of the _Heptameron_, but is there
replaced by the one that follows, XLIV. (B).--Ed.

2 This Lady of Sedan is Catherine de Croi, daughter of
Philip VI. de Croi, Count of Chimay. In 1491 she married
Robert II. do la Marck, Duke of Bouillon, Lord of Sedan,
Fleuranges, &c., who was long the companion in arms of
Bayard and La Tremoille. Robert II. lost the duchy of
Bouillon through the conquests of Charles V., and one of the
clauses of the treaty of Cambrai (the "Ladies' Peace") was
that Francis I. would in no wise assist him to regain it.
His eldest son by Catherine de Croi was the celebrated
Marshal de Fleuranges, "the young adventurer," who left such
curious memoirs behind him. Robert II. died in 1535, his son
surviving him a couple of years.--Anselme's _Histoire
Genealogique_, vol. vii. p. 167.--L. and B. J.

My Lord of Sedan, who was a prudent man and a merry talker, had the good
father to eat at his table, and in order to put him on his mettle said
to him, among other things--

"Good father, you do well to make your collection while you are yet
unknown. I greatly fear that, if once your hypocrisy be found out, you
will no longer receive the bread of poor children, earned by the sweat
of their fathers."

The Grey Friar was not abashed by these words, but replied--

"Our Order, my lord, is so securely founded that it will endure as long
as the world exists. Our foundation, indeed, cannot fail so long as
there are men and women on the earth."

My Lord of Sedan, being desirous of knowing on what foundation the
existence of the Grey Friars was thus based, urgently begged the father
to tell him.

After making many excuses, the Friar at last replied--

"Since you are pleased to command me to tell you, you shall hear. Know,
then, my lord, that our foundation is the folly of women, and that so
long as there be a wanton or foolish woman in the world we shall not die
of hunger."

My Lady of Sedan, who was very passionate, was in such wrath on hearing
these words, that, had her husband not been present, she would have
dealt harshly with the Grey Friar; and indeed she swore roundly that
he should not have the pig that she had promised him; but the Lord of
Sedan, finding that he had not concealed the truth, swore that he should
have two, and caused them to be sent to his monastery.

"You see, ladies, how the Grey Friar, being sure that the favour of
the ladies could not fail him, contrived, by concealing nothing of the
truth, to win the favour and alms of men. Had he been a flatterer and
dissembler, he would have been more pleasing to the ladies, but not so
profitable to himself and his brethren."

The tale was not concluded without making the whole company laugh,
and especially such among them as knew the Lord and Lady of Sedan. And
Hircan said--"The Grey Friars, then, should never preach with intent to
make women wise, since their folly is of so much service to the Order."

"They do not preach to them," said Parlamente, "with intent to make
them wise, but only to make them think themselves so. Women who are
altogether worldly and foolish do not give them much alms; nevertheless,
those who think themselves the wisest because they go often to
monasteries, and carry paternosters marked with a death's head, and wear
caps lower than others, must also be accounted foolish, for they rest
their salvation on their confidence in the holiness of wicked men, whom
they are led by a trifling semblance to regard as demigods."

"But who could help believing them," said Enna-suite, "since they have
been ordained by our prelates to preach the Gospel to us and rebuke our
sins?"

"Those who have experienced their hypocrisy," said Parlamente, "and who
know the difference between the doctrine of God and that of the devil."

"Jesus!" said Ennasuite. "Can you think that these men would dare to
preach false doctrine?"

"Think?" replied Parlamente. "Nay, I am sure that they believe anything
but the Gospel. I speak only of the bad among them; for I know many
worthy men who preach the Scriptures in all purity and simplicity, and
live without reproach, ambition, or covetousness, and in such chastity
as is unfeigned and free. However, the streets are not paved with such
as these, but are rather distinguished by their opposites; and the good
tree is known by its fruit."

"In very sooth," said Ennasuite, "I thought we were bound on pain of
mortal sin to believe all they tell us from the pulpit as truth, that
is, when they speak of what is in the Holy Scriptures, or cite the
expositions of holy doctrines divinely inspired."

"For my part," said Parlamente, "I cannot but see that there are men of
very corrupt faith among them. I know that one of them, a Doctor of
Theology and a Principal in their Order, (3) sought to persuade many of
the brethren that the Gospel was no more worthy of belief than Caesar's
Commentaries or any other histories written by learned men of authority;
and from the hour I heard that I would believe no preacher's word unless
I found it in harmony with the Word of God, which is the true touchstone
for distinguishing between truth and falsehood."

3 In MS. No. 1520 this passage runs, "a Doctor of Theology
named Colimant, a great preacher and a Principal in their
Order." However, none of the numerous works on the history
of the Franciscans makes any mention of a divine called
Colimant.--B. J.

"Be assured," said Oisille, "that those who read it constantly and with
humility will never be led into error by deceits or human inventions;
for whosoever has a mind filled with truth cannot believe a lie."

"Yet it seems to me," said Simontault, "that a simple person is more
readily deceived than another."

"Yes," said Longarine, "if you deem foolishness to be the same thing as
simplicity."

"I affirm," replied Simontault, "that a good, gentle and simple woman is
more readily deceived than one who is wily and wicked."

"I think," said Nomerfide, "that you must know of one overflowing with
such goodness, and so I give you my vote that you may tell us of her."

"Since you have guessed so well," said Simontault, "I will indeed tell
you of her, but you must promise not to weep. Those who declare, ladies,
that your craftiness surpasses that of men would find it hard to bring
forward such an instance as I am now about to relate, wherein I propose
to show you not only the exceeding craftiness of a husband, but also the
simplicity and goodness of his wife."

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[Illustration: 163a.jpg The Lovers returning from their Meeting in the Garden]

[The Lovers returning from their Meeting in the Garden]

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_TALE XLIV. (B)_.

_Concerning the subtlety of two lovers in the enjoyment of
their love, and the happy issue of the latter_. (1)

1 This is the tale given by Gruget in his edition of the
_Heptameron_, in lieu of the preceding one.--Ed.

In the city of Paris there lived two citizens of middling condition, of
whom one had a profession, while the other was a silk mercer. These two
were very old friends and constant companions, and so it happened that
the son of the former, a young man, very presentable in good company,
and called James, used often by his father's favour to visit the
mercer's house. This, however, he did for the sake of the mercer's
beautiful daughter named Frances, whom he loved; and so well did James
contrive matters with her, that he came to know her to be no less loving
than loved.

Whilst matters were in this state, however, a camp was formed in
Provence in view of withstanding the descent of Charles of Austria, (2)
and James, being called upon the list, was obliged to betake himself to
the army. At the very beginning of the campaign his father passed from
life into death, the tidings whereof brought him double sorrow, on the
one part for the loss of his father, and on the other for the difficulty
he should have on his return in seeing his sweetheart as often as he had
hoped.

2 Charles V. entered Provence by way of Piedmont in the
summer of 1536, and invested Marseilles. A scarcity of
supplies and much sickness among his troops compelled him,
however, to raise the siege.--M.

As time went on, the first of these griefs was forgotten and the other
increased. Since death is a natural thing, and for the most part
befalls the father before the children, the sadness it causes gradually
disappears; but love, instead of bringing us death, brings us life
through the procreation of children, in whom we have immortality, and
this it is which chiefly causes our desires to increase.

James, therefore, when he had returned to Paris, thought or cared for
nothing save how he might renew his frequent visits to the mercer's
house, and so, under cloak of pure friendship for him, traffic in his
dearest wares. On the other hand, during his absence, Frances had been
urgently sought by others, both because of her beauty and of her wit,
and also because she was long since come to marriageable years; but
whether it was that her father was avaricious, or that, since she was
his only daughter, he was over anxious to establish her well, he failed
to perform his duty in the matter. This, however, tended but little to
her honour, for in these days people speak ill of one long before they
have any reason to do so, and particularly in aught that concerns the
chastity of a beautiful woman or maid. Her father did not shut his ears
or eyes to the general gossip, nor seek resemblance with many others
who, instead of rebuking wrongdoing, seem rather to incite their wives
and children to it, for he kept her with such strictness that even those
who sought her with offers of marriage could see her but seldom, and
then only in presence of her mother.

It were needless to ask whether James found all this hard of endurance.
He could not conceive that such rigour should be without weighty reason,
and therefore wavered greatly between love and jealousy. However, he
resolved at all risks to learn the cause, but wished first of all to
know whether her affection was the same as before; he therefore set
about this, and coming one morning to church, he placed himself near her
to hear mass, and soon perceived by her countenance that she was no less
glad to see him than he was to see her. Accordingly, knowing that the
mother was less stern than the father, he was sometimes, when he met
them on their way to church, bold enough to accost them as though by
chance, and with a familiar and ordinary greeting; all, however, being
done expressly so that he might the better work his ends.

To be brief, when the year of mourning for his father was drawing to an
end, he resolved, on laying aside his weeds, to cut a good figure and
do credit to his forefathers; and of this he spoke to his mother, who
approved his design; for having but two children, himself and a daughter
already well and honourably mated, she greatly desired to see him
suitably married. And, indeed, like the worthy lady that she was, she
still further incited his heart in the direction of virtue by countless
instances of other young men of his own age who were making their way
unaided, or at least were showing themselves worthy of those from whom
they sprang.

It now only remained to determine where they should equip themselves,
and the mother said--

"I am of opinion, James, that we should go to our friend Master
Peter,"--that is, to the father of Frances--"for, knowing us, he will
not cheat us."

His mother was indeed tickling him where he itched; however, he held
firm and replied--

"We will go where we may find the cheapest and the best. Still," he
added, "for the sake of his friendship with my departed father, I am
willing that we should visit him first."

Matters being thus contrived, the mother and son went one morning to see
Master Peter, who made them welcome; for traders, as you know, are never
backward in this respect. They caused great quantities of all kinds of
silk to be displayed before them, and chose what they required; but they
could not agree upon the price, for James haggled on purpose, because
his sweetheart's mother did not come in. So at last they went away
without buying anything, in order to see what could be done elsewhere.
But James could find nothing so handsome as in his sweetheart's house,
and thither after a while they returned.

The mercer's wife was now there and gave them the best reception
imaginable, and after such bargaining as is common in shops of the kind,
during which Peter's wife proved even harder than her husband, James
said to her--

"In sooth, madam, you are very hard to deal with. I can see how it is;
we have lost my father, and our friends recognise us no longer."

So saying, he pretended to weep and wipe his eyes at thought of his
departed father; but 'twas done in order to further his design.

The good widow, his mother, took the matter in perfect faith, and on her
part said--

"We are as little visited since his death as if we had never been known.
Such is the regard in which poor widows are held!"

Upon this the two women exchanged fresh declarations of affection,
and promised to see each other oftener than ever. While they were thus
discoursing, there came in other traders, whom the master himself led
into the back shop. Then the young man perceived his opportunity, and
said to his mother--

"I have often on feast days seen this good lady going to visit the holy
places in our neighbourhood, and especially the convents. Now if, when
passing, she would sometimes condescend to take wine with us, she would
do us at once pleasure and honour."

The mercer's wife, who suspected no harm, replied that for more than a
fortnight past she had intended to go thither, that, if it were fair,
she would probably do so on the following Sunday, and that she would
then certainly visit the lady at her house. This affair being concluded,
the bargain for the silk quickly followed, since, for the sake of a
little money, 'twould have been foolish to let slip so excellent an
opportunity.

When matters had been thus contrived, and the merchandise taken
away, James, knowing that he could not alone achieve so difficult an
enterprise, was constrained to make it known to a faithful friend
named Oliver, and they took such good counsel together that nothing now
remained but to put their plan into execution.

Accordingly, when Sunday was come, the mercer's wife and her daughter,
on returning from worship, failed not to visit the widow, whom they
found talking with a neighbour in a gallery that looked upon the garden,
while her daughter was walking in the pathways with James and Oliver.

When James saw his sweetheart, he so controlled himself that his
countenance showed no change, and in this sort went forward to receive
the mother and her daughter. Then, as the old commonly seek the old,
the three ladies sat down together on a bench with their backs to the
garden, whither the lovers gradually made their way, and at last reached
the place where were the other two. Thus meeting, they exchanged some
courtesies and then began to walk about once more, whereupon the young
man related his pitiful case to Frances, and this so well that, while
unwilling to grant, she yet durst not refuse what he sought; and he
could indeed see that she was in a sore strait. It must, however, be
understood that, while thus discoursing, they often, to take away all
ground for suspicion, passed and repassed in front of the shelter-place
where the worthy dames were seated--talking the while on commonplace and
ordinary matters, and at times disporting themselves through the garden.

At last, in the space of half-an-hour, when the good women had become
well accustomed to this behaviour, James made a sign to Oliver, who
played his part with the girl that was with him so cleverly, that she
did not perceive the two lovers going into a close rilled with cherry
trees, and well shut in by tall rose trees and gooseberry bushes. (3)
They made show of going thither in order to gather some almonds which
were in a corner of the close, but their purpose was to gather plums.

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