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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3 Large gardens and enclosures were then plentiful in the
heart of Paris. Forty years ago, when the Boulevard
Sebastopol was laid out, it was found that many of the
houses in the ancient Rues St. Martin and St. Denis had, in
their rear, gardens of considerable extent containing
century-old trees, the existence of which had never been
suspected by the passers-by in those then cramped and dingy
thoroughfares.--M.

Accordingly, James, instead of giving his sweetheart a green gown, gave
her a red one, and its colour even came into her face through finding
herself surprised sooner than she had expected. And these plums of
theirs being ripe, they plucked them with such expedition that Oliver
himself had not believed it possible, but that he perceived the girl to
droop her gaze and look ashamed. This taught him the truth, for she had
before walked with head erect, with no fear lest the vein in her eye,
which ought to be red, should take an azure hue. However, when James
perceived her perturbation, he recalled her to herself by fitting
remonstrances.

Nevertheless, while making the next two or three turns about the garden,
she would not refrain from tears and sighs, or from saying again
and again--"Alas! was it for this you loved me? If only I could have
imagined it! Heavens! what shall I do? I am ruined for life. What will
you now think of me? I feel sure you will respect me no longer, if, at
least, you are one of those that love but for their own pleasure. Alas,
why did I not die before falling into such an error?"

She shed many tears while uttering these words, but James comforted her
with many promises and oaths, and so, before they had gone thrice again
round the garden, or James had signalled to his comrade, they once more
entered the close, but by another path. And there, in spite of all, she
could not but receive more delight from the second green gown than from
the first; from which moment her satisfaction was such that they took
counsel together how they might see each other with more frequency and
convenience until her father should see fit to consent.

In this matter they were greatly assisted by a young woman, who was
neighbour to Master Peter; she had some kinship with James, and was a
good friend to Frances. And in this way, from what I can understand,
they continued without scandal until the celebration of the marriage,
when Frances, being an only child, proved to be very rich for a trader's
daughter. James had, however, to wait for the greater part of his
fortune until the death of his father-in-law, for the latter was so
grasping a man that he seemed to think one hand capable of robbing him
of that which he held in the other. (4)

4 This reminds one of Moliere's Harpagon, when he requires
La Fleche to show him his hands. See _L'Avare_, act i. sc.
iii.--M.

"In this story, ladies, you see a love affair well begun, well carried
on, and better ended. For although it is a common thing among you men to
scorn a girl or woman as soon as she has freely given what you chiefly
seek in her, yet this young man was animated by sound and sincere love;
and finding in his sweetheart what every husband desires in the girl he
weds, and knowing, moreover, that she was of good birth, and discreet in
all respects, save for the error into which he himself had led her,
he would not act the adulterer or be the cause of an unhappy marriage
elsewhere. And for this I hold him worthy of high praise."

"Yet," said Oisille, "they were both to blame, ay, and the third party
also who assisted or at least concurred in a rape."

"Do you call that a rape," said Saffredent, "in which both parties are
agreed? Is there any marriage better than one thus resulting from secret
love? The proverb says that marriages are made in heaven, but this does
not hold of forced marriages, nor of such as are made for money or are
deemed to be completely sanctioned as soon as the parents have given
their consent."

"You may say what you will," said Oisille, "but we must recognise that
obedience is due to parents, or, in default of them, to other kinsfolk.
Otherwise, if all were permitted to marry at will, how many horned
marriages should we not find? Is it to be presumed that a young man and
a girl of twelve or fifteen years can know what is good for them? If we
examined into the happiness of marriages on the whole, we should find
that at least as many love-matches have turned out ill as those that
were made under compulsion. Young people, who do not know what is good
for them, attach themselves heedlessly to the first that comes; then by
degrees they find out their error and fall into others that are still
greater. On the other hand, most of those who act under compulsion
proceed by the advice of people who have seen more and have more
judgment than the persons concerned, and so when these come to feel the
good that was before unknown to them, they rejoice in it and embrace it
with far more eagerness and affection."

"True, madam," said Hircan, "but you have forgotten that the girl was
of full age and marriageable, and that she was aware of her father's
injustice in letting her virginity grow musty rather than rub the rust
off his crown pieces. And do you not know that nature is a jade? She
loved and was loved; she found her happiness close to her hand, and she
may have remembered the proverb, 'She that will not when she may, when
she will she shall have nay.' All these things, added to her wooer's
despatch, gave her no time to resist. Further, you have heard that
immediately afterwards her face showed that some noteworthy change had
been wrought in her. She was perhaps annoyed at the shortness of the
time afforded her to decide whether the thing were good or bad, for no
great pressing was needed to make her try a second time."

"Now, for my part," said Longarine, "I can find no excuse for such
conduct, except that I approve the good faith shown by the youth who,
comporting himself like an honest man, would not forsake her, but took
her such as he had made her. In this respect, considering the corruption
and depravity of the youth of the present day, I deem him worthy of high
praise. I would not for all that seek to excuse his first fault, which,
in fact, amounted to rape in respect to the daughter, and subornation
with regard to the mother."

"No, no," said Dagoucin, "there was neither rape nor subornation.
Everything was done by mere consent, both on the part of the mothers,
who did not prevent it (though, indeed, they were deceived), and on that
of the daughter, who was pleased by it, and so never complained."

"It was all the result," said Parlamente, "of the great kindliness and
simplicity of the mercer's wife, who unwittingly led the maiden to the
slaughter."

"Nay, to the wedding," said Simontault, "where such simplicity was no
less profitable to the girl than it once was hurtful to one who suffered
herself to be readily duped by her husband."

"Since you know such a story," said Nomerfide, "I give you my vote that
you may tell it to us."

"I will indeed do so," said Simontault, "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 will now
relate, wherein I propose to show you not only the great craftiness of a
husband, but the exceeding simplicity and goodness of his wife."

[Illustration: 176.jpg Tailpiece]

[Illustration: 177a.jpg The Man of Tours and his Serving-maid in the Snow]

[The Man of Tours and his Serving-maid in the Snow]

[Illustration: 177.jpg Page Image]

_TALE XLV_.

_At his wife's request, an upholsterer of Tours gave the
Innocents to his serving-maid, with whom he was in love; but
he did so after such a fashion as to let her have what
belonged by right only to his wife, who, for her part, was
such a simpleton that she could never believe her husband
had so wronged her, albeit she had abundant warning thereof
from a neighbour_.

In the city of Tours dwelt a man of shrewd and sound understanding, who
was upholsterer to the late Duke of Orleans, (1) son of King Francis the
First; and although this upholsterer had, through sickness, become deaf,
he had nevertheless lost nothing of his wit, which, in regard both to
his trade and to other matters, was as shrewd as any man's. And how he
was able to avail himself of it you shall hear.

1 Charles of France, Duke of Orleans, Bourbonnais,
Angoumois and Chatelherault, Count of Clermont, La Marche,
and Civray, Governor and Lieutenant-General of Champagne and
Brie. He has been referred to in the Memoir of Queen
Margaret, _ante_, vol. i. pp. xxxvi., xlvii.-viii. Born at
St. Germain in January 1521, the Duke of Orleans took part
in several military expeditions, and gave proof of much
ability as a commander. He died, according to some accounts,
of a pleurisy, and, according to others, of the plague, in
1545. The above story was evidently written subsequent to
that date, as Queen Margaret refers to him as "the late Duke
of Orleans."--L.

He had married a virtuous and honourable woman, with whom he lived
in great peace and quietness. He was very fearful of displeasing her,
whilst she, on her part, sought in all things to obey him. But, for all
the affection that he bore her, he was so charitably inclined that he
would often give to his female neighbours that which by right belonged
to his wife, though this he did as secretly as he was able.

There was in their house a very plump serving-maid with whom the
upholsterer fell in love. Nevertheless, dreading lest his wife should
know this, he often made show of scolding and rebuking her, saying that
she was the laziest wench he had ever known, though this was no wonder,
seeing that her mistress never beat her. And thus it came to pass that
one day, while they were speaking about giving the Innocents, (2) the
upholsterer said to his wife--

"It were a charity to give them to that lazy wench of yours, but it
should not be with your hand, for it is too feeble, and in like way your
heart is too pitiful for such a task. If, however, I were to make use of
mine, she would serve us better than she now does."

2 Prior to the Reformation it was the custom, not only in
France but throughout Europe, to whip children on the
morning of Innocents' Day (December 28), in order, says
Gregory in his treatise on the _Boy Bishop_, "that the
memory of Herod's murder of the Innocents might stick the
closer." This custom (concerning which see Haspinian, _De
Orig. Festor, Christianor_. fol. 160) subsequently
degenerated into a jocular usage, so far as the children
were concerned, and town-gallants and country-swains
commonly sought to surprise young women in bed, and make
them play the part of the Innocents, more frequently than
otherwise to the loss of their virtue. A story is told of a
French nobleman who in taking leave of some ladies to join a
hunting party, heard one of them whisper, "We shall sleep at
our ease, and pass the Innocents without receiving them."
This put the nobleman, a certain Seigneur du Rivau, on his
mettle. "He kept his appointment," we are told, "galloped
back twenty leagues at night, arrived at the lady's house at
dawn on Innocents' Day, surprised her in bed, and used the
privilege of the season." (Bonn's _Heptameron_, p. 301).
Verses illustrative of the custom will be found in the works
of Clement Marot, Jannet's edition, 1868, vol iii. p. 7, and
in those of Cholieres, Jouaust's edition, 1879, vol. i. p.
224-6.--L. and Ed.

The poor woman, suspecting no harm, begged him to do execution upon the
girl, confessing that she herself had neither strength nor heart for
beating her.

The husband willingly accepted this commission, and, playing the part of
a stern executioner, had purchase made of the finest rods that could be
found. To show, moreover, how anxious he was not to spare the girl, he
caused these rods to be steeped in pickle, so that his poor wife felt
far more pity for her maid than suspicion of her husband.

Innocents' Day being come, the upholsterer rose early in the morning,
and, going up to the room where the maid lay all alone, he gave her the
Innocents in a different fashion to that which he had talked of with
his wife. The maid wept full sore, but it was of no avail. Nevertheless,
fearing lest his wife should come upon them, he fell to beating the
bed-post with the rods which he had with him in such wise that he barked
and broke them; and in this condition he brought them back to his wife,
saying--

"Methinks, sweetheart, your maid will remember the Innocents."

When the upholsterer was gone out of the house, the poor servant threw
herself upon her knees before her mistress, telling her that her husband
had done her the greatest wrong that was ever done to a serving-maid.
The mistress, however, thinking that this merely had reference to the
flogging which she believed to have been given, would not suffer the
girl to finish, but said to her--

"My husband did well, and only what I have for more than a month been
urging him to do. If you were hurt I am very glad to hear it. You may
lay it all at my door, and, what is more, he did not even do as much as
he ought to have done."

The serving-maid, finding that her mistress approved of the matter,
thought that it could not be so great a sin as she had imagined, the
more so as it had been brought to pass by a woman whose virtue was held
in such high repute. Accordingly she never afterwards ventured to speak
of it.

Her master, however, seeing that his wife was as content to be deceived
as he was to deceive her, resolved that he would frequently give her
this contentment, and so practised on the serving-maid, that she wept no
more at receiving the Innocents.

He continued this manner of life for a great while, without his wife
being any the wiser, until there came a time of heavy snow, when, having
already given the girl the Innocents on the grass in his garden, he was
minded to do the same in the snow. Accordingly, one morning before any
one in the house was awake, he took the girl clad in nothing but her
shift to make the crucifix in the snow, and while they were pelting each
other in sport, they did not forget the game of the Innocents.

This sport, however, was observed by one of their female neighbours who
had gone to her window, which overlooked the garden, to see what manner
of weather it was, and so wrathful was she at the evil sight, that she
resolved to tell her good gossip of it, to the end that she might no
longer suffer herself to be deceived by a wicked husband or served by a
wanton jade.

After playing these fine pranks, the upholsterer looked about him to
see whether any one could perceive him, and to his exceeding annoyance
observed his neighbour at her window. But just as he was able to give
any colour to his tapestry, so he bethought him to give such a colour to
what he had done, that his neighbour would be no less deceived than his
wife. Accordingly, as soon as he had gone back to bed again, he made his
wife rise in nothing but her shift, and taking her into the garden as
he had taken his serving-maid, he played with her for a long time in
the snow even as he had played with the other. And then he gave her
the Innocents in the same way as he had given them to the maid, and
afterwards they returned to bed together.

When the good woman went to mass, her neighbour and excellent friend
failed not to be there, and, while unwilling to say anything further,
zealously begged of her to dismiss her serving-maid, who was, she said,
a very wicked and dangerous wench. This, however, the other would not
do without knowing why she thought so ill of the girl, and at last her
neighbour related how she had seen the wench that morning in the garden
with her husband.

At this the good woman fell to laughing heartily, and said--

"Eh! gossip dear, 'twas myself!"

"What, gossip? Why she wore naught but her shift, and it was only five
o'clock in the morning."

"In faith, gossip," replied the good woman, "'twas myself."

"They pelted each other with snow," the other went on, "on the breasts
and elsewhere, as familiarly as could be."

"Eh! gossip, eh!" the good woman replied, "'twas myself."

"Nay, gossip," said the other, "I saw them afterwards doing something in
the snow that to my mind is neither seemly nor right."

"Gossip," returned the good woman, "I have told you, and I tell you
again, that it was myself and none other who did all that you say, for
my good husband and I play thus familiarly together. And, I pray you,
be not scandalised at this, for you know that we are bound to please our
husbands."

So the worthy gossip went away, more wishful to possess such a husband
for herself than she had been to talk about the husband of her friend;
and when the upholsterer came home again his wife told him the whole
story.

"Now look you, sweetheart," replied the upholsterer, "if you were not
a woman of virtue and sound understanding we should long ago have been
separated the one from the other. But I hope that God will continue to
preserve us in our mutual love, to His own glory and our happiness."

"Amen to that, my dear," said the good woman, "and I hope that on my
part you will never find aught to blame." (3)

3 This tale is accounted by most critics and commentators
to be the best in the _Heptameron_. Dunlop thinks it may
have been borrowed from a _fabliau_ composed by some
_Trouvere_ who had travelled in the East, and points out
that it corresponds with the story of the _Shopkeeper s
Wife_ in Nakshebi's Persian Tales (_Tooti Nameh_). Had it
been brought to France, however, in the manner suggested it
would, like other tales, have found its way into the works
of many sixteenth-century story-writers besides Queen
Margaret. Such, however, is not the case, and curiously
enough, so far as we can find, the tale, as given in the
_Heptameron_, was never imitated until La Fontaine wrote his
_Servante Justifiee (Contes, livre_ ii. No. vi.), in the
opening lines of which he expressly acknowledges his
indebtedness to the Queen of Navarre.--Ed.

"Unbelieving indeed, ladies, must be the man who, after hearing this
true story, should hold you to be as crafty as men are; though, if we
are not to wrong either, and to give both man and wife the praise they
truly deserve, we must needs admit that the better of the two was worth
naught."

"The man," said Parlamente, "was marvellously wicked, for he deceived
his servant on the one side and his wife on the other."

"Then you cannot have understood the story," said Hircan. "We are told
that he contented them both in the same morning, and I consider it a
highly virtuous thing, both for body and mind, to be able to say and do
that which may make two opposites content."

"It was doubly wicked," said Parlamente, "to satisfy the simplicity of
one by falsehood and the wickedness of the other by vice. But I am
aware that sins, when brought before such judges as you, will always be
forgiven."

"Yet I promise you," said Hircan, "that for my own part I shall never
essay so great and difficult a task, for if I but render _you_ content
my day will not have been ill spent."

"If mutual love," said Parlamente, "cannot content the heart, nothing
else can."

"In sooth," said Simontault, "I think there is no greater grief in the
world than to love and not be loved."

"To be loved," said Parlamente, "it were needful to turn to such as
love. Very often, however, those women who will not love are loved the
most, while those men who love most strongly are loved the least."

"You remind me," said Oisille, "of a story which I had not intended to
bring forward among such good ones."

"Still I pray you tell it us," said Simontault. "That will I do right
willingly," replied Oisille.

[Illustration: 186.jpg Tailpiece]

[Illustration: 187.jpg Page Image]

_TALE XLVI. (A)_.

_A Grey Friar named De Vale, being bidden to dinner at the
house of the Judge of the Exempts in Angouleme, perceived
that the Judge's wife (with whom he was in love) went up
into the garret alone; thinking to surprise her, he followed
her thither; but she dealt him such a kick in the stomach
that he fell from the top of the stairs to the bottom, and
fled out of the town to the house of a lady that had such
great liking for those of his Order (foolishly believing
them possessed of greater virtues than belong to them), that
she entrusted him with the correction of her daughter, whom
he lay with by force instead of chastising her for the sin
of sloth-fulness, as he had promised her mother he would
do_. (1)

1 Boaistuau and Gruget omit this tale, and the latter
replaces it by that numbered XLVI. (B). Count Charles of
Angouleme having died on January i, 1496, the incidents
related above must have occurred at an earlier date.--L.

In the town of Angouleme, where Count Charles, father of King Francis,
often abode, there dwelt a Grey Friar named De Vale, the same being held
a learned man and a great preacher. One Advent this Friar preached in
the town in presence of the Count, whereby he won such renown that those
who knew him eagerly invited him to dine at their houses. Among others
that did this was the Judge of the Exempts (2) of the county, who had
wedded a beautiful and virtuous woman. The Friar was dying for love of
her, yet lacked the hardihood to tell her so; nevertheless she perceived
the truth, and held him in derision.

2 The _Exempt_ was a police officer, and the functions of
the _Juge des Exempts_ were akin to those of a police
magistrate.--Ed.

After he had given several tokens of his wanton purpose, he one day
espied her going up into the garret alone. Thinking to surprise her, he
followed, but hearing his footsteps she turned and asked whither he was
going. "I am going after you," he replied, "to tell you a secret."

"Nay, good father," said the Judge's wife. "I will have no secret
converse with such as you. If you come up any higher, you will be sorry
for it."

Seeing that she was alone, he gave no heed to her words, but hastened
up after her. She, however, was a woman of spirit, and when she saw the
Friar at the top of the staircase, she gave him a kick in the stomach,
and with the words, "Down! down! sir," (3) cast him from the top to the
bottom. The poor father was so greatly ashamed at this, that, forgetting
the hurt he had received in falling, he fled out of the town as fast
as he was able. He felt sure that the lady would not conceal the matter
from her husband; and indeed she did not, nor yet from the Count and
Countess, so that the Friar never again durst come into their presence.

3 The French words here are "_Devaliez, devaliez,
monsieur_," whilst MS. No. 1520 gives, "_Monsieur de Vale,
devales_." In either case there is evidently a play upon the
friar's name, which was possibly pronounced Valles or
Valles. Adrien de Valois, it maybe pointed out, rendered his
name in Latin as _Valesius_; the county of Valois and that
of Valais are one and the same; we continue calling the old
French kings Valois, as their name was written, instead of
Valais as it was pronounced, as witness, for instance, the
nickname given to Henry III. by the lampooners of the
League, "_Henri devale_." See also _post_, Tale XLVI. (B),
note 2.--M. and Ed.

To complete his wickedness, he repaired to the house of a lady who
preferred the Grey Friars to all other folk, and, after preaching a
sermon or two before her, he cast his eyes upon her daughter, who was
very beautiful. And as the maiden did not rise in the morning to hear
his sermon, he often scolded her in presence of her mother, whereupon
the latter would say to him--"Would to God, father, that she had some
taste of the discipline which you monks receive from one another."

The good father vowed that if she continued to be so slothful, he would
indeed give her some of it, and her mother earnestly begged him to do
so.

A day or two afterwards, he entered the lady's apartment, and, not
seeing her daughter there, asked her where she was.

"She fears you so little," replied the lady, "that she is still in bed."

"There can be no doubt," said the Grey Friar, "that it is a very evil
habit in young girls to be slothful. Few people think much of the sin
of sloth, but for my part, I deem it one of the most dangerous there is,
for the body as for the soul. You should therefore chastise her for it,
and if you will give me the matter in charge, I will take good care that
she does not lie abed at an hour when she ought to be praying to God."

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