“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
(Béthune).--L.
4 Charles of Angoulême, 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 très illustre et vertueux
Prince Jean, Comte d’Angoulême_, by Jean du Port, Angoulême,
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 Angoulême, 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-Sèvres), 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 Génin’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.
Perceiving at last that the butcher intended him no hurt, the good
father told him the reason why he had hidden himself in the sty. Then
was their fear turned to laughter, except, indeed, that the poor Friar’s
leg was too painful to suffer him to be merry. However, the butcher
brought him into the house, where he caused the hurt to be carefully
dressed.
His comrade, who had deserted him in his need, ran all night long, and
in the morning came to the house of the Lord of Fors, where he lodged
a complaint against the butcher, whom he suspected of killing his
companion, seeing that the latter had not followed him. The Lord of Fors
forthwith sent to Grip to learn the truth, and this, when known, was by
no means the cause of tears. And he failed not to tell the story to his
mistress the Duchess of Angoulême, mother of King Francis, first of that
name. (4)
4 Many modern stories and anecdotes have been based on this
amusing tale.--Ed.
“You see, ladies, how bad a thing it is to listen to secrets that do not
concern us, and to misunderstand what other people say.”
“Did I not know,” said Simontault, “that Nomer-fide would give us no
cause to weep, but rather to laugh? And I think that we have all done so
very heartily.”
“How comes it,” said Oisille, “that we are more ready to be amused by a
piece of folly than by something wisely done?”
“Because,” said Hircan, “the folly is more agreeable to us, for it is
more akin to our own nature, which of itself is never wise. And like is
fond of like, the fool of folly, and the wise man of discretion. But
I am sure,” he continued, “that no one, whether foolish or wise, could
help laughing at this story.”
“There are some,” said Geburon, “whose hearts are so bestowed on the
love of wisdom that, whatever they may hear, they cannot be made to
laugh. They have a gladness of heart and a moderate content such as
nought can move.”
“Who are they?” asked Hircan.
“The philosophers of olden days,” said Geburon. “They were scarcely
sensible of either sadness or joy, or at least they gave no token of
either, so great a virtue did they deem the conquest of themselves and
their passions. I too think, as they did, that it is well to subdue a
wicked passion, but a victory over a natural passion, and one that tends
to no evil, appears useless in my eyes.”
“And yet,” added Geburon, “the ancients held it for a great virtue.”
“It is not maintained,” said Saffredent, “that they all were wise. They
had more of the appearance of sense and virtue than of the reality.”
“Nevertheless, you will find that they rebuke everything bad,” said
Geburon. “Diogenes himself, even, trod on the bed of Plato, who was too
fond (5) of rare and precious things for his taste, and this in order to
show that he despised Plato’s vanity and greed, and would put them under
foot. ‘I trample with contempt,’ said he, ‘upon the pride of Plato.’”
“But you have not told all,” said Saffredent, “for Plato retorted that
he did so from pride of another kind.”
“In truth,” said Parlamente, “it is impossible to accomplish the
conquest of ourselves without extraordinary pride. And this is the
vice that we should fear most of all, for it springs from the death and
destruction of all the virtues.”
“Did I not read to you this morning,” said Oisille, “that those who
thought themselves wiser than other men, since by the sole light of
reason they had come to recognise a God, creator of all things, were
made more ignorant and irrational not only than other men, but than the
very brutes, and this because they did not ascribe the glory to Him to
whom it was due, but thought that they had gained the knowledge they
possessed by their own endeavours? For having erred in their minds
by ascribing to themselves that which pertains to God alone, they
manifested their errors by disorder of body, forgetting and perverting
their natural sex, as St. Paul to-day doth tell us in the Epistle that
he wrote to the Romans.” (6)
5 The French word here is _curieux_, which in Margaret’s
time implied one fond of rare and precious things.--B. J