had some great secret to tell him, whereupon he came with all speed, and
then, reproaching him for the deceit that he had practised on her, she
had him seized like the other. Afterwards she sent for the officers of
justice, in whose hands she placed them both. It is to be supposed that
if the judges were honest men they did not suffer the offence to go
unpunished. (2)
2 There is some little resemblance between this tale and
the 36th of Morlini’s _Novello, De monacho qui duxit
uxorem_.--M.
“From this story, ladies, you will see that those who have taken vows of
poverty are not free from the temptation of covetousness, which is the
cause of so many ills.”
“Nay, of so many blessings,” said Saffredent, “for with the five hundred
ducats that the old woman would have stored up there was made much good
cheer, while the poor maiden, who had been longing for a husband, was
thus enabled to have two, and to speak with more knowledge as to the
truth of all hierarchies.”
“You always hold the falsest opinions,” said Oisille, “that ever I knew.
You think that all women are of your own temper.”
“Not so, madam, with your good leave,” said Saffredent. “I would give
much that they were as easily satisfied as we are.”
“That is a wicked speech,” said Oisille, “and there is not one present
but knows the contrary, and that what you say is untrue. The story that
has just been told proves the ignorance of poor women and the wickedness
of those whom we regard as better than the rest of your sex; for neither
mother nor daughter would do aught according to their own fancy, but
subjected desire to good advice.”
“Some women are so difficult,” said Longarine, “that they think they
ought to have angels instead of men.”
“And for that reason,” said Simontault, “they often meet with devils,
more especially those who, instead of trusting to God’s grace, think
by their own good sense, or that of others, that they may in this world
find some happiness, though this is granted by none save God, from whom
alone it can come.”
“How now, Simontault!” said Oisille. “I did not think that you knew so
much good.”
“Madam,” said Simontault, “‘tis a pity that I have not been proved, for
I see that through lack of knowledge you have already judged ill of me.
Yet I may well practise a Grey Friar’s trade, since a Grey Friar has
meddled with mine.”
“So you call it your trade,” said Parlamente, “to deceive women? Thus
out of your mouth are you judged.”
“Had I deceived a hundred thousand,” said Simontault, “I should yet not
have avenged the woes that I have endured for the sake of one alone.”
“I know,” said Parlamente, “how often you complain of women; yet,
for all that, we see you so merry and hearty that it is impossible
to believe that you have endured all the woes you speak of. But the
‘Compassionless Fair One’ (3) replies that--
“‘Tis as well to say as much
To draw some comfort thence.’”
3 _La belle Dame sans mercy_, by Alain Chartier.--Ed.
“You quote a truly notable theologian,” said Simontault, “one who is
not only froward himself, but makes all the ladies so, who have read and
followed his teaching.”
“Yet his teaching,” said Parlamente, “is as profitable for youthful
dames as any that I know.”
“If it were indeed true,” said Simontault, “that the ladies were without
compassion, we might as well let our horses rest and our armour grow
rusty until the next war, and think of nothing but household affairs.
And, I pray you, tell me whether it is an excellence in a lady to have
the reputation of being without pity, or charity, or love, or mercy.”
“Without charity or love,” said Parlamente, “they should not be, but the
word ‘mercy’ sounds so ill among women that they cannot use it without
wounding their honour; for properly speaking ‘mercy’ means to grant a
favour sought, and we well know what the favour is that men desire.”
“May it please you, madam,” said Simontault, “there are some men who are
so reasonable that they crave nought but speech.”
“You remind me,” said Parlamente, “of one who was content with a glove.”
“We must know who this easy lover was,” said Hircan, “and so this time I
give my vote to you.”
“It will give me pleasure to tell the tale,” said Parlamente, “for it is
full of virtue.”
[Illustration: 061.jpg Tailpiece]
[Illustration: 063a.jpg The English Lord seizing the Lady’s Glove]
[The English Lord seizing the Lady’s Glove]
[Illustration: 063.jpg Page Image]
_TALE LVII_.
_An English lord for seven years loved a lady without ever
venturing to let her know of it, until one day, when
observing her in a meadow, he lost all colour and control of
feature through a sudden throbbing of the heart that came
upon him. Then she, showing her compassion, at his request
placed her gloved hand upon his heart, whereupon he pressed
it so closely, whilst declaring to her the love he had so
long borne her, that she withdrew it, leaving in its place
her glove. And this glove he afterwards enriched with gems
and fastened upon his doublet above his heart, and showed
himself so graceful and virtuous a lover that he never
sought any more intimate favour of her_.
King Louis the Eleventh (1) sent the Lord de Montmorency to England as
his ambassador, and so welcome was the latter in that country that the
King and all the Princes greatly esteemed and loved him, and even
made divers of their private affairs known to him in order to have his
counsel upon them.
1 Some of the MS. say Louis XII., but we cannot find that
either the eleventh or twelfth Louis sent any Montmorency as
ambassador to England. Ripault-Desormeaux states, however,
in his history of this famous French family, that William de
Montmorency, who, after fighting in Italy under Charles
VIII. and Louis XII., became, governor of the Orléanais and
_chevalier d’honneur_ to Louise of Savoy was one of the
signatories of the treaty concluded with Henry VIII. of
England, after the-battle of Pavia in 1525. We know that
Louise, as Regent of France, at that time sent John Brinon
and John Joachim de Passano as ambassadors to England, and
possibly William de Montmorency accompanied them, since
Desormeaux expressly states that he guaranteed the loyal
observance of the treaty then negotiated. William was the
father of Anne, the famous Constable of France, and died May
24, 1531. “Geburon,” in the dialogue following the above
tale, mentions that he had well known the Montmorency
referred to, and speaks of him as of a person dead and gone.
It is therefore scarcely likely that Queen Margaret alludes
to Francis de Montmorency, Lord of La Rochepot, who was only
sent on a mission to England in 1546, and survived her by
many years.--L. and Ed.
One day, at a banquet that the King gave to him, he was seated beside a
lord (2) of high lineage, who had on his doublet a little glove, such
as women wear, fastened with hooks of gold and so adorned upon the
finger-seams with diamonds, rubies, emeralds and pearls, that it was
indeed a glove of great price.
2 The French word is _Millor (Milord)_ and this is probably
one of the earliest instances of its employment to designate
a member of the English aristocracy. In such of the _Cent
Nouvelles Nouvelles_ in which English nobles figure, the
latter are invariably called _seigneurs_ or _chevaliers_,
and addressed as _Monseigneur_, Later on, when Brantôme
wrote, the term _un milord anglais_ had become quite common,
and he frequently makes use of it in his various works.
English critics have often sneered at modern French writers
for employing the expression, but it will be seen from this
that they have simply followed a very old tradition.--Ed.
The Lord de Montmorency looked at it so often that the English lord
perceived he was minded to inquire why it was so choicely ordered; so,
deeming its story to be greatly to his own honour, he thus began--
“I can see that you think it strange I should have so magnificently
arrayed a simple glove, and on my part I am still more ready to tell you
the reason, for I deem you an honest gentleman and one who knows what
manner of passion love is, so that if I did well in the matter you will
praise me for it, and if not, make excuse for me, knowing that every
honourable heart must obey the behests of love. You must know, then,
that I have all my life long loved a lady whom I love still, and shall
love even when I am dead, but, as my heart was bolder to fix itself
worthily than were my lips to speak, I remained for seven years without
venturing to make her any sign, through fear that, if she perceived
the truth, I should lose the opportunities I had of often being in her
company; and this I dreaded more than death. However, one day, while I
was observing her in a meadow, a great throbbing of the heart came upon
me, so that I lost all colour and control of feature. Perceiving
this, she asked me what the matter was, and I told her that I felt
an intolerable pain of the heart. She, believing it to be caused by a
different sickness than love, showed herself pitiful towards me, which
prompted me to beg her to lay her hand upon my heart and see how it was
beating. This, more from charity than from any other affection, she did,
and while I held her gloved hand against my heart, it began to beat and
strain in such wise, that she felt that I was speaking the truth. Then I
pressed her hand to my breast, saying--
“‘Alas, madam, receive the heart which would fain break forth from my
breast to leap into the hand of her from whom I look for indulgence,
life and pity, and which now constrains me to make known to you the
love that I have so long concealed, for neither my heart nor I can now
control this potent God.’
“When she heard those words, she deemed them very strange. She wished
to withdraw her hand, but I held it fast, and the glove remained in her
cruel hand’s place; and having neither before nor since had any more
intimate favour from her, I have fastened this glove upon my heart as
the best plaster I could give it. And I have adorned it with the
richest rings I have, though the glove itself is wealth that I would not
exchange for the kingdom of England, for I deem no happiness on earth so
great as to feel it on my breast.”
The Lord de Montmorency, who would have rather had a lady’s hand than
her glove, praised his very honourable behaviour, telling him that
he was the truest lover he had ever known, and was worthy of better
treatment, since he set so much value upon so slight a thing; though
perchance, if he had obtained aught better than the glove, the greatness
of his love might have made him die of joy. With this the English lord
agreed, not suspecting that the Lord de Montmorency was mocking him. (3)
3 Alluding to this story, Brantôme writes as follows in his
_Dames Galantes_: “You have that English _Milord_ in the
Hundred Tales of the Queen of Navarre, who wore his
mistress’s glove at his side, beautifully adorned. I myself
have known many gentlemen who, before wearing their silken
hose, would beg their ladies and mistresses to try them on
and wear them for some eight or ten days, rather more than
less, and who would then themselves wear them in extreme
veneration and contentment, both of mind and body.”--
Lalanne’s _OEuvres de Brantôme_, vol. ix. p. 309.--L.
“If all men were so honourable as this one, the ladies might well trust
them, since the cost would be merely a glove.”
“I knew the Lord de Montmorency well,” said Geburon, “and I am sure that
he would not have cared to fare after the English fashion. Had he been
contented with so little, he would not have been so successful in love
as he was, for the old song says--
‘Of a cowardly lover
No good is e’er heard.’”
“You may be sure,” said Saffredent, “that the poor lady withdrew her
hand with all speed, when she felt the beating of his heart, because she
thought that he was about to die, and people say that there is nothing
women loathe more than to touch dead bodies.” (4)
4 Most of this sentence, deficient in our MS., is taken
from MS. No. 1520.--L.
“If you had spent as much time in hospitals as in taverns,” said
Ennasuite, “you would not speak in that way, for you would have seen
women shrouding dead bodies, which men, bold as they are, often fear to
touch.”
“It is true,” said Saffredent, “that there is none upon whom penance has
been laid but does the opposite of that wherein he formerly had delight,
like a lady I once saw in a notable house, who, to atone for her delight
in kissing one she loved, was found at four o’clock in the morning
kissing the corpse of a gentleman who had been killed the day before,
and whom she had never liked more than any other. Then every one knew
that this was a penance for past delights. But as all the good deeds
done by women are judged ill by men, I am of opinion that, dead or
alive, there should be no kissing except after the fashion that God
commands.”
“For my part,” said Hircan, “I care so little about kissing women,
except my own wife, that I will assent to any law you please, yet I
pity the young folk whom you deprive of this trifling happiness, thus
annulling the command of St. Paul, who bids us kiss _in osculo sancto._”
(5)
5 _Romans_ xvi. 16; 1 _Corinthians_ xvi. 20; 2
_Corinthians_ xiii. 12; I _Thessalonians_ v. 26. Also 1
_Peter_ v. 14.--M.
“If St. Paul had been such a man as you are,” said Nomerfide, “we should
indeed have required proof of the Spirit of God that spoke in him.”
“In the end,” said Geburon, “you will doubt Holy Scripture rather than
give up one of your petty affectations.”
“God forbid,” said Oisille, “that we should doubt Holy Scripture, but
we put small faith in your lies. There is no woman but knows what her
belief should be, namely, never to doubt the Word of God or believe the
word of man.”
“Yet,” said Simontauit, “I believe that there are more men deceived by
women than [women] by men. The slenderness of women’s love towards us
keeps them from believing our truths, whilst our exceeding love towards
them makes us trust so completely in their falsehoods, that we are
deceived before we suspect such a thing to be possible.”
“Methinks,” said Parlamente, “you have been hearing some fool complain
of being duped by a wanton woman, for your words carry but little
weight, and need the support of an example. If, therefore, you know of
one, I give you my place that you may tell it to us. I do not say that
we are bound to believe you on your mere word, but it will assuredly not
make our ears tingle to hear you speak ill of us, since we know what is
the truth.”
“Well, since it is for me to speak,” said Dagoucin, “‘tis I who will
tell you the tale.”
[Illustration: 070.jpg Tailpiece]
[Illustration: 071a. The Gentleman Mocked by the Ladies When Returning From The False
Tryst]
[The Gentleman Mocked by the Ladies When Returning From The False Tryst]
[Illustration: 071.jpg Page Image]
_TALE LVIII._
_A gentleman, through putting too much trust in the
truthfulness of a lady whom he had offended by forsaking her
for others just when she was most in love with him, was, by
a false tryst, deceived by her, and bemocked by the whole
Court_.
At the Court of King Francis the First there was a lady (1) of excellent
wit, who, by her grace, virtue and pleasantness of speech, had won the
hearts of several lovers. With these she right well knew how to pass
the time, but without hurt to her honour, conversing with them in such
pleasant fashion that they knew not what to think, for those who were
the most confident were reduced to despair, whilst those that despaired
the most became hopeful. Nevertheless, while fooling most of them, she
could not help greatly loving one whom she called her cousin, a name
which furnished a pretext for closer fellowship.
1 M. de Lincy surmises that Margaret is referring to
herself both here and in the following tale, which concerns
the same lady. His only reason for the supposition, however,
is that the lady’s views on certain love matters are akin to
those which the Queen herself professed.--Ed.
However, as there is nothing in this world of firm continuance, their
friendship often turned to anger and then was renewed in stronger sort
than ever, so that the whole Court could not but be aware of it.
One day the lady, both to let it be seen that she was wholly void
of passion, and to vex him, for love of whom she had endured much
annoyance, showed him a fairer countenance than ever she had done
before. Thereupon the gentleman, who lacked boldness neither in love nor
in war, began hotly to press the suit that he many a time previously had
addressed to her.
She, pretending to be wholly vanquished by pity, promised to grant his
request, and told him that she would with this intent go into her room,
which was on a garret floor, where she knew there was nobody. And as
soon as he should see that she was gone he was to follow her without
fail, for he would find her ready to give proof of the good-will that
she bore him.
The gentleman, believing what she said, was exceedingly well pleased,
and began to amuse himself with the other ladies until he should see
her gone, and might quickly follow her. But she, who lacked naught of
woman’s craftiness, betook herself to my Lady Margaret, daughter of the
King, and to the Duchess of Montpensier, (2) to whom she said--
“I will if you are willing, show you the fairest diversion you have ever
seen.”
2 The former is Margaret of France, Duchess of Savoy and
Berry. Born in June 1523, she died in September 1574.--
Queen Margaret was her godmother. When only three years old,
she was promised in marriage to Louis of Savoy, eldest son
of Duke Charles III., and he dying, she espoused his younger
brother, Emmanuel Philibert, in July 1549. Graceful and
pretty as a child (see _ante_, vol. i. p. xlviii.), she
became, thanks to the instruction of the famous Michael de
l’ Hôpital, one of the most accomplished women of her time,
and Brantôme devotes an article to her in his _Dames
Illustres_ (Lalanne, v. viii. pp. 328-37). See also Hilarion
de Coste’s _Éloges et Vies des Reines, Princesses, &c_.,
Paris, 1647, vol. ii. p. 278.
The Duchess of Montpensier, also referred to above, is
Jacqueline de Longwick (now Longwy), Countess of Bar-sur-
Seine, daughter of J. Ch. de Longwick, Lord of Givry, and of
Jane, _bâtarde_ of Angoulême. In 1538 Jacqueline was
married to Louis II. de Bourbon, Duke of Montpensier. She
gained great influence at the French Court, both under
Francis I. and afterwards, and De Thou says of her that she
was possessed of great wit and wisdom, far superior to the
century in which she lived. She died in August 1561, and was
the mother of Francis I., Duke of Montpensier, sometimes
called the Dauphin of Auvergne, who fought at Jarnac,
Moncontour, Arques, and Ivry, against Henry of Navarre.--L.,
B. J. and Ed.
They, being by no means enamoured of melancholy, begged that she would
tell them what it was.
“You know such a one,” she replied, “as worthy a gentleman as lives, and
as bold. You are aware how many ill turns he has done me, and that, just
when I loved him most, he fell in love with others, and so caused me
more grief than I have ever suffered to be seen. Well, God has now
afforded me the means of taking revenge upon him.
“I am forthwith going to my own room, which is overhead, and immediately
afterwards, if it pleases you to keep watch, you will see him follow me.
When he has passed the galleries, and is about to go up the stairs, I
pray you come both to the window and help me to cry ‘Thief!’ You will
then see his rage, which, I am sure, will not become him badly, and,
even if he does not revile me aloud, I am sure he will none the less do
so in his heart.”
This plan was not agreed to without laughter, for there was no gentleman
that tormented the ladies more than he did, whilst he was so greatly
liked and esteemed by all, that for nothing in the world would any one
have run the risk of his raillery.
It seemed, moreover, to the two Princesses that they would themselves
share in the glory which the other lady looked to win over this
gentleman.
Accordingly, as soon as they saw the deviser of the plot go out, they
set themselves to observe the gentleman’s demeanour. But little time
went by before he shifted his quarters, and, as soon as he had passed
the door, the ladies went out into the gallery, in order that they might
not lose sight of him.
Suspecting nothing, he wrapped his cloak about his neck, so as to hide
his face, and went down the stairway to the court, but, seeing some one
whom he did not desire to have for witness, he came back by another
way, and then went down into the court a second time. The ladies saw
everything without being perceived by him, and when he reached the
stairway, by which he thought he might safely reach his sweetheart’s
chamber, they went to the window, whence they immediately perceived
the other lady, who began crying out ‘Thief!’ at the top of her voice;
whereupon the two ladies below answered her so loudly that their voices
were heard all over the castle.
I leave you to imagine with what vexation the gentleman fled to his
lodgings. He was not so well muffled as not to be known by those who
were in the mystery, and they often twitted him with it, as did even
the lady who had done him this ill turn, saying that she had been well
revenged upon him.
It happened, however, that he was so ready with his replies and evasions
as to make them believe that he had quite suspected the plan, and had
only consented to visit the lady in order to furnish them with some
diversion, for, said he, he would not have taken so much trouble for
her sake, seeing that his love for her had long since flown. The ladies
would not admit the truth of this, so that the point is still in doubt;
nevertheless, it is probable that he believed the lady. And since he
was so wary and so bold that few men of his age and time could match
and none could surpass him (as has been proved by his very brave and
knightly death), (3) you must, it seems to me, confess that men of
honour love in such wise as to be often duped, by placing too much trust
in the truthfulness of the ladies.
3 This naturally brings Bonnivet to mind, though of course
the gay, rash admiral was not the only Frenchman of the time
who spent his life in making love and waging war.--Ed.
“In good faith,” said Ennasuite, “I commend this lady for the trick she
played; for when a man is loved by a lady and forsakes her for another,
her vengeance cannot be too severe.”
“Yes,” said Parlamente, “if she is loved by him; but there are some who
love men without being certain that they are loved in return, and when
they find that their sweethearts love elsewhere, they call them fickle.
It therefore happens that discreet women are never deceived by such
talk, for they give no heed or belief even to those people who speak
truly, lest they should prove to be liars, seeing that the true and the
false speak but one tongue.”
“If all women were of your opinion,” said Simon-tault, “the gentlemen
might pack up their prayers at once; but, for all that you and those
like you may say, we shall never believe that women are as unbelieving
as they are fair. And in this wise we shall live as content as you would
fain render us uneasy by your maxims.”
“Truly,” said Longarine, “knowing as I well do who the lady is that
played that fine trick upon the gentleman, it is impossible for me not
to believe in any craftiness on her part. Since she did not spare her
husband, ‘twere fitting she should not spare her lover.”
“Her husband, say you?” said Simontault. “You know, then, more than I
do, and so, since you wish it, I give you my place that you may tell us
your opinion of the matter.”
“And since you wish it,” said Longarine, “I will do so.”
[Illustration: 078.jpg Tailpiece]
[Illustration: 079a. The Lady discovering her Husband with the Waiting-woman]
[The Lady discovering her Husband with the Waiting-woman]
[Illustration: 079.jpg Page Image]
_TALE LIX_.
_This same lady, finding that her husband took it ill that
she should have lovers with whom she amused herself without
hurt to her honour, kept close watch upon him, and so
discovered how pleasantly he addressed himself to one of her
waiting-women. This woman she gained upon, made her consent
to what her husband solicited, and then surprised him in
such error that to atone for it, he was forced to confess
that he deserved greater punishment than herself; by which
means she was afterwards able to live as her fancy listed_.