16 John de la Barre, a favourite of Francis I. See note to
Tale lxiii. (vol. v.), in which he plays a conspicuous
part.--Ed.
Certain persons, wishing to save their lives, told him that they had
only sought his good graces by their enchantments; but the King, holding
his sister’s life as dear as his own, commanded that the same sentence
should be passed on them as if they had made an attempt on his own
person.
However, his sister, the Duchess of Alençon, entreated that the
Proctor’s life might be spared, and the sentence of death be commuted to
some heavy punishment. This request was granted her, and St. Aignan
and Gallery were sent to the galleys of St. Blancart at Marseilles,(17)
where they ended their days in close captivity, and had leisure to
ponder on the grievousness of their crimes. The wicked wife, in the
absence of her husband, continued in her sinful ways even more than
before, and at last died in wretchedness.
17 This passage is explained by Henri Bouché, who states in
his _Histoire Chronologique de Provence_ (vol. ii. p. 554),
that after Francis I.’s voyage in captivity to Spain it was
judged expedient that France should have several galleys in
the Mediterranean, and that “orders were accordingly given
for thirteen to be built at Marseilles--four for the Baron
de Saint-Blancart, as many for Andrew Doria, &c.” The Baron
de Saint-Blancart here referred to was Bernard d’Ormezan,
Admiral of the seas of the Levant, Conservator of the ports
and tower of Aigues-Mortes, and General of the King’s
galleys. In 1523 he defeated the naval forces of the Emperor
Charles V., and in 1525 conducted Margaret to Spain.--L.
(See Memoir of Margaret, p. xli.)
“I pray you, ladies, consider what evil is caused by a wicked woman,
and how many evils sprang from the sins of the one I have spoken of.
You will find that ever since Eve caused Adam to sin, all women have set
themselves to bring about the torment, slaughter and damnation of men.
For myself, I have had such experience of their cruelty that I expect to
die and be damned simply by reason of the despair into which one of them
has cast me. And yet so great a fool am I, that I cannot but confess
that hell coming from her hand is more pleasing than Paradise would be
from the hand of another.”
Parlamente, pretending she did not understand that it was touching
herself he spoke in this fashion, said to him--
“Since hell is as pleasant as you say, you ought not to fear the devil
who has placed you in it.”
“If my devil were to become as black as he has been cruel to me,”
answered Simontault angrily, “he would cause the present company as much
fright as I find pleasure in looking upon them; but the fires of
love make me forget those of this hell. However, to speak no further
concerning this matter, I give my vote to Madame Oisille to tell the
second story. I feel sure she would support my opinion if she were
willing to say what she knows about women.”
Forthwith all the company turned towards Oisille, and begged of her to
proceed, to which she consented, and, laughing, began as follows--
“It seems to me, ladies, that he who has given me his vote has spoken so
ill of our sex in his true story of a wicked woman, that I must call to
mind all the years of my long life to find one whose virtue will suffice
to gainsay his evil opinion. However, as I have bethought me of one
worthy to be remembered, I will now relate her history to you.”
[Illustration: 056.jpg Tailpiece]
[Illustration: 057a.jpg The Muleteer’s Servant attacking his Mistress]
[The Muleteer’s Servant attacking his Mistress]
[Illustration: 057.jpg Page Image]
_TALE II._
_The wife of a muleteer of Amboise chose rather to die
cruelly at the hands of her servant than to fall in with his
wicked purpose_.(1)
In the town of Amboise there was a muleteer in the service of the Queen
of Navarre, sister to King Francis, first of that name. She being
at Blois, where she had been brought to bed of a son, the aforesaid
muleteer went thither to receive his quarterly payment, whilst his wife
remained at Amboise in a lodging beyond the bridges.(2)
1 The incidents of this story probably took place at
Amboise, subsequent, however, to the month of August 1530,
when Margaret was confined of her son John.--L.
2 Amboise is on the left bank of the Loire, and there have
never been any buildings on the opposite bank. However,
the bridge over the river intersects the island of St. Jean,
which is covered with houses, and here the muleteer’s wife
evidently resided.--M.
Now it happened that one of her husband’s servants had long loved her
exceedingly, and one day he could not refrain from speaking of it
to her. She, however, being a truly virtuous woman, rebuked him so
severely, threatening to have him beaten and dismissed by her husband,
that from that time forth he did not venture to speak to her in any such
way again or to let his love be seen, but kept the fire hidden within
his breast until the day when his master had gone from home and his
mistress was at vespers at St. Florentin,(3) the castle church, a long
way from the muleteer’s house.
3 The Church of St. Florentin here mentioned must not be
confounded with that of the same name near one of the gates
of Amboise. Erected in the tenth century by Foulques Nera of
Anjou, it was a collegiate church, and was attended by the
townsfolk, although it stood within the precincts of the
château. For this reason Queen Margaret calls it the castle
church.--Ed.
Whilst he was alone the fancy took him that he might obtain by force
what neither prayer nor service had availed to procure him, and
accordingly he broke through a wooden partition which was between
the chamber where his mistress slept and his own. The curtains of his
master’s bed on the one side and of the servant’s bed on the other
so covered the walls as to hide the opening he had made; and thus his
wickedness was not perceived until his mistress was in bed, together
with a little girl eleven or twelve years old.
When the poor woman was in her first sleep, the servant, in his shirt
and with his naked sword in his hand, came through the opening he had
made in the wall into her bed; but as soon as she felt him beside her,
she leaped out, addressing to him all such reproaches as a virtuous
woman might utter. His love, however, was but bestial, and he would
have better understood the language of his mules than her honourable
reasonings; indeed, he showed himself even more bestial than the beasts
with whom he had long consorted. Finding she ran so quickly round a
table that he could not catch her, and that she was strong enough to
break away from him twice, he despaired of ravishing her alive, and
dealt her a terrible sword-thrust in the loins, thinking that, if fear
and force had not brought her to yield, pain would assuredly do so.
The contrary, however, happened, for just as a good soldier, on seeing
his own blood, is the more fired to take vengeance on his enemies and
win renown, so her chaste heart gathered new strength as she ran fleeing
from the hands of the miscreant, saying to him the while all she could
think of to bring him to see his guilt. But so filled was he with rage
that he paid no heed to her words. He dealt her several more thrusts, to
avoid which she continued running as long as her legs could carry her.
When, after great loss of blood, she felt that death was near, she
lifted her eyes to heaven, clasped her hands and gave thanks to God,
calling Him her strength, her patience, and her virtue, and praying
Him to accept her blood which had been shed for the keeping of His
commandment and in reverence of His Son, through whom she firmly
believed all her sins to be washed away and blotted out from the
remembrance of His wrath.
As she was uttering the words, “Lord, receive the soul that has been
redeemed by Thy goodness,” she fell upon her face to the ground.
Then the miscreant dealt her several thrusts, and when she had lost both
power of speech and strength of body, and was no longer able to make any
defence, he ravished her.(4)
4 Brantôme, in his account of Mary Queen of Scots, quotes
this story. After mentioning that the headsman remained
alone with the Queen’s decapitated corpse, he adds: “He then
took off her shoes and handled her as he pleased. It is
suspected that he treated her in the same way as that
miserable muleteer, in the Hundred Stories of the Queen of
Navarre, treated the poor woman he killed. Stranger
temptations than this come to men. After he (the
executioner) had done as he chose, the (Queen’s) body was
carried into a room adjoining that of her servants.”
Lalanne’s _OEuvres de Brantôme_, vol. vii. p. 438.--M.
Having thus satisfied his wicked lust, he fled in haste, and in spite of
all pursuit was never seen again.
The little girl, who was in bed with the muleteer’s wife, had hidden
herself under the bed in her fear; but on seeing that the man was gone,
she came to her mistress. Finding her to be without speech or movement,
she called to the neighbours from the window for aid; and as they loved
and esteemed her mistress as much as any woman that belonged to the
town, they came forthwith, bringing surgeons with them. The latter
found that she had received twenty-five mortal wounds in her body, and
although they did what they could to help her, it was all in vain.
Nevertheless she lingered for an hour longer without speaking, yet
making signs with eye and hand to show that she had not lost her
understanding. Being asked by a priest in what faith she died, she
answered, by signs as plain as any speech, that she placed her hope of
salvation in Jesus Christ alone; and so with glad countenance and eyes
upraised to heaven her chaste body yielded up its soul to its Creator.
Just as the corpse, having been laid out and shrouded,(5) was placed
at the door to await the burial company, the poor husband arrived and
beheld his wife’s body in front of his house before he had even received
tidings of her death. He inquired the cause of this, and found that he
had double occasion to grieve; and his grief was indeed so great that it
nearly killed him.
5 Common people were then buried in shrouds, not in coffins.
--Ed.
This martyr of chastity was buried in the Church of St. Florentin, and,
as was their duty, all the upright women of Amboise failed not to show
her every possible honour, deeming themselves fortunate in belonging to
a town where so virtuous a woman had been found. And seeing the honour
that was shown to the deceased, such women as were wanton and unchaste
resolved to amend their lives.
“This, ladies, is a true story, which should incline us more strongly to
preserve the fair virtue of chastity. We who are of gentle blood should
die of shame on feeling in our hearts that worldly lust to avoid which
the poor wife of a muleteer shrank not from so cruel a death. Some
esteem themselves virtuous women who have never like this one resisted
unto the shedding of blood. It is fitting that we should humble
ourselves, for God does not vouchsafe His grace to men because of their
birth or riches, but according as it pleases His own good-will. He pays
no regard to persons, but chooses according to His purpose; and he whom
He chooses He honours with all virtues. And often He chooses the lowly
to confound those whom the world exalts and honours; for, as He Himself
hath told us, ‘Let us not rejoice in our merits, but rather because our
names are written in the Book of Life, from which nor death, nor hell,
nor sin can blot them out.’” (6)
6 These are not the exact words of Scripture, but a
combination of several passages from the Book of
Revelation.--Ed.
There was not a lady in the company but had tears of compassion in her
eyes for the pitiful and glorious death of the muleteer’s wife. Each
thought within herself that, should fortune serve her in the same way,
she would strive to imitate this poor woman in her martyrdom. Oisille,
however, perceiving that time was being lost in praising the dead woman,
said to Saffredent--
“Unless you can tell us something that will make the company laugh, I
think none of them will forgive me for the fault I have committed in
making them weep; wherefore I give you my vote for your telling of the
third story.”
Saffredent, who would gladly have recounted something agreeable to the
company, and above all to one amongst the ladies, said that it was
not for him to speak, seeing that there were others older and better
instructed than himself, who should of right come first. Nevertheless,
since the lot had fallen upon himself, he would rather have done with it
at once, for the more numerous the good speakers before him, the worse
would his own tale appear.
[Illustration: 064.jpg Tailpiece]
[Illustration: 065a.jpg The Stags Head]
[The King Joking upon the Stag’s Head being A fitting Decoration]
[Illustration: 065.jpg Page Image]
_TALE III._
_The Queen of Naples, being wronged by King Alfonso, her
husband, revenged herself with a gentleman whose wife was
the King’s mistress; and this intercourse lasted all their
lives without the King at any time having suspicion of
it_.(1)
I have often desired, ladies, to be a sharer in the good fortune of the
man whose story I am about to relate to you. You must know that in the
time of King Alfonso,(2) whose lust was the sceptre of his kingdom,(3)
there lived in the town of Naples a gentleman, so honourable, comely,
and pleasant that his perfections induced an old gentleman to give him
his daughter in marriage.
1 This story is historical. The events occurred at Naples
cir. 1450.--L.
2 The King spoken of in this story must be Alfonso V., King
of Aragon, who was born in 1385, and succeeded his father,
Ferdinand the Just, in 1416. He had already made various
expeditions to Sardinia and Corsica, when, in 1421, Jane II.
of Naples begged of him to assist her in her contest against
Louis of Anjou. Alfonso set sail for Italy as requested, but
speedily quarrelled with Jane, on account of the manner in
which he treated her lover, the Grand Seneschal Caraccioli.
Jane, at her death in 1438, bequeathed her crown to René,
brother of Louis of Anjou, whose claims Alfonso immediately
opposed. Whilst blockading Gaëta he was defeated and
captured, but ultimately set at liberty, whereupon he
resumed the war. In 1442 he at last secured possession of
Naples, and compelled René to withdraw from Italy. From that
time Alfonso never returned to Spain, but settling himself
in his Italian dominions, assumed the title of King of the
Two Sicilies. He obtained the surname of the Magnanimous,
from his generous conduct towards some conspirators, a list
of whose names he tore to pieces unread, saying, “I will
show these noblemen that I have more concern for their lives
than they have themselves.” The surname of the Learned was
afterwards given to him from the circumstance that, like his
rival René of Anjou, he personally cultivated letters, and
also protected many of the leading learned men of Italy.
Alfonso was fond of strolling about the streets of Naples
unattended, and one day, when he was cautioned respecting
this habit, he replied, “A father who walks abroad in the
midst of his children has no cause for fear.” Whilst
possessed of many remarkable qualities, Alfonso, as Muratori
and other writers have shown, was of an extremely licentious
disposition. That he had no belief in conjugal fidelity is
evidenced by his saying that “to ensure domestic happiness
the husband should be deaf and the wife blind.” He himself
had several mistresses, and lived at variance with his wife,
respecting whom some particulars are given in a note on page
69. He died in 1458, at the age of seventy-four, bequeathing
his Italian possessions to Ferdinand, Duke of Calabria, his
natural son by a Spanish beauty named Margaret de Hijar. It
may be added that Brantôme makes a passing allusion to this
tale of the _Heptameron_ in his _Vies des Dames Galantes_
(Disc, i.), styling it “a very fine one.”--L. and Ed.
3 Meaning that he employed his sovereign authority for the
accomplishment of his amorous desires.--M.
She vied with her husband in grace and comeliness, and there was great
love between them, until a certain day in Carnival time, when the King
went masked from house to house. All strove to give him the best
welcome they could, but when he came to this gentleman’s house he
was entertained better than anywhere else, what with sweetmeats,
and singers, and music, and, further, the fairest woman that, to his
thinking, he had ever seen. At the end of the feast she sang a song with
her husband in so graceful a fashion that she seemed more beautiful than
ever.
The King, perceiving so many perfections united in one person, was not
over pleased at the gentle harmony between the husband and wife, and
deliberated how he might destroy it. The chief difficulty he met with
was in the great affection which he observed existed between them, and
on this account he hid his passion in his heart as deeply as he could.
To relieve it in some measure, he gave many entertainments to the lords
and ladies of Naples, and at these the gentleman and his wife were not
forgotten. Now, inasmuch as men willingly believe what they desire, it
seemed to the King that the glances of this lady gave him fair promise
of future happiness, if only she were not restrained by her husband’s
presence. Accordingly, that he might learn whether his surmise was
true, the King intrusted a commission to the husband, and sent him on a
journey to Rome for a fortnight or three weeks.
As soon as the gentleman was gone, his wife, who had never before been
separated from him, was in great distress; but the King comforted her as
often as he was able, with gentle persuasions and presents, so that
at last she was not only consoled, but well pleased with her husband’s
absence. Before the three weeks were over at the end of which he was to
be home again, she had come to be so deeply in love with the King that
her husband’s return was no less displeasing to her than his departure
had been. Not wishing to be deprived of the King’s society, she agreed
with him that whenever her husband went to his country-house she would
give him notice of it. He might then visit her in safety, and with such
secrecy that her honour, which she regarded more than her conscience,
would not suffer.(4)
4 The edition of 1558 is here followed, the MSS. being
rather obscure.--M.
Having this hope, the lady continued of very cheerful mind, and when her
husband arrived she welcomed him so heartily that, even had he been
told that the King had sought her in his absence, he would have had no
suspicion. In course of time, however, the flame, that is so difficult
of concealment, began to show itself, and the husband, having a strong
inkling of the truth, kept good watch, by which means he was well-nigh
convinced. Nevertheless, as he feared that the man who wronged him
would treat him still worse if he appeared to notice it, he resolved to
dissemble, holding it better to live in trouble than to risk his life
for a woman who had ceased to love him.
In his vexation of spirit, however, he resolved, if he could, to retort
upon the King, and knowing that women, especially such as are of lofty
and honourable minds, are more moved by resentment than by love, he made
bold one day while speaking with the Queen (5) to tell her that it moved
his pity to see her so little loved by the King.
5 This was Mary (daughter of Henry III. of Castile), who was
married to King Alfonso at Valencia on June 29, 1415. Juan
de Mariana, the Spanish historian, records that the ceremony
was celebrated with signal pomp by the schismatical Pope
Benedict XIII. The bride brought her husband a dowry of
200,000 ducats, and also various territorial possessions.
The marriage, however, was not a happy one, on account of
Alfonso’s licentious disposition, and the Queen is said to
have strangled one of his mistresses, Margaret de Hijar, in
a fit of jealousy. Alfonso, to escape from his wife’s
interference, turned his attention to foreign expeditions.
According to the authors of _L’Art de Vérifier les Dates_,
Queen Mary never once set foot in Italy, and this statement
is borne out by Mariana, who shows that whilst Alfonso was
reigning in Naples his wife governed the kingdom of Aragon,
making war and signing truces and treaties of peace with
Castile. In the _Heptameron_, therefore, Margaret departs
from historical accuracy when she represents the Queen as
residing at Naples with her husband. Moreover, judging by
the date of Mary’s marriage, she could no longer have been
young when Alfonso secured the Neapolitan throne. It is to
be presumed that the Queen of Navarre designedly changed the
date of her story, and that the incidents referred to really
occurred in Spain prior to Alfonso’s departure for Italy.
There is no mention of Mary in her husband’s will, a
remarkable document which is still extant. A letter written
to her by Pope Calixtus II. shows that late in life the King
was desirous of repudiating her to marry an Italian mistress
named Lucretia Alania. The latter repaired to Rome to
negotiate the affair, but the Pope refused to treat with
her, and wrote to Mary saying that she must be prudent, but
that he would not dissolve the marriage, lest God should
punish him for participating in so great a crime. Mary died
a few months after her husband in 1458, and was buried in a
convent at Valencia.--L. and Ed.
The Queen, who had heard of the affection that existed between the King
and the gentleman’s wife, replied--
“I cannot have both honour and pleasure together. I well know that I
have the honour whilst another has the pleasure; and in the same way she
who has the pleasure has not the honour that is mine.”
Thereupon the gentleman, who understood full well at whom these words
were aimed, replied--
“Madam, honour is inborn with you, for your lineage is such that no
title, whether of queen or empress, could be an increase of nobility;
yet your beauty, grace, and virtue are well deserving of pleasure, and
she who robs you of what is yours does a greater wrong to herself than
to you, seeing that for a glory which is turned to her shame, she loses
as much pleasure as you or any lady in the realm could enjoy. I can
truly tell you, madam, that were the King to lay aside his crown, he
would not possess any advantage over me in satisfying a lady; nay, I
am sure that to content one so worthy as yourself he would indeed be
pleased to change his temperament for mine.”