“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 Cæsar’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.”
[Illustration: 162.jpg Tailpiece]
[Illustration: 163a.jpg The Lovers returning from their Meeting in the Garden]
[The Lovers returning from their Meeting in the Garden]
[Illustration: 163.jpg Page Image]
_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.
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 Flèche 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 Châtelherault, 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 Cholières, 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.