“Vengeance, madam, is sweet when in place of slaying an enemy it gives
life to a true lover.(6) Methinks it is time that truth should cause you
to abandon the foolish love you bear to one who loves you not, and that
a just and reasonable love should banish fear, which cannot dwell in a
noble and virtuous heart. Come, madam, let us set aside the greatness
of your station and consider that, of all men and women in the world, we
are the most deceived, betrayed, and bemocked by those whom we have most
truly loved. Let us avenge ourselves, madam, not so much to requite them
in the way they deserve as to satisfy that love which, for my own part,
I cannot continue to endure and live. And I think that, unless your
heart be harder than flint or diamond, you cannot but feel some spark
from the fires which only increase the more I seek to conceal them. If
pity for me, who am dying of love for you, does not move you to love
me, at least pity for yourself should do so. You are so perfect that you
deserve to win the heart of every honourable man in the world, yet you
are contemned and forsaken by him for whose sake you have scorned all
others.”
6 The above sentence being omitted in the MS. followed in
this edition, it has been supplied from MS. No. 1520 in the
Bibliothèque Nationale.--L.
On hearing these words the Queen was so greatly moved that, for fear
of showing in her countenance the trouble of her mind, she took the
gentleman’s arm and went forth into a garden that was close to her
apartment. There she walked to and fro for a long time without being
able to say a word to him. The gentleman saw that she was half won, and
when they were at the end of the path, where none could see them, he
made a very full declaration of the love which he had so long hidden
from her. They found that they were of one mind in the matter, and
enacted (7) the vengeance which they were no longer able to forego.
Moreover, they there agreed that whenever the husband went into the
country, and the King left the castle to visit the wife in the town, the
gentleman should always return and come to the castle to see the Queen.
Thus, the deceivers being themselves deceived, all four would share in
the pleasures that two of them had thought to keep to themselves.
7 This expression has allusion to the mysteries or religious
plays so frequently performed in the fifteenth and sixteenth
centuries. The Mystery of Vengeance, which depicted the
misfortunes which fell upon those who had taken part in the
crucifixion of Jesus Christ, such as Pontius Pilate, &c, and
ended by the capture and destruction of Jerusalem, properly
came after the Mysteries of the Passion and the
Resurrection.--L.
When the agreement had been made, the Queen returned to her apartment
and the gentleman to his house, both being so well pleased that they had
forgotten all their former troubles. The jealousy they had previously
felt at the King’s visits to the lady was now changed to desire, so that
the gentleman went oftener than usual to his house in the country, which
was only half a league distant. As soon as the King was advised of his
departure, he never failed to go and see the lady; and the gentleman,
when night was come, betook himself to the castle to the Queen, where
he did duty as the King’s lieutenant, and so secretly that none ever
discovered it.
This manner of life lasted for a long time; but as the King was a person
of public condition, he could not conceal his love sufficiently well to
prevent it from coming at length to the knowledge of every one; and
all honourable people felt great pity for the gentleman, though divers
malicious youths were wont to deride him by making horns at him behind
his back. But he knew of their derision, and it gave him great pleasure,
so that he came to think as highly of his horns as of the King’s crown.
One day, however, the King and the gentleman’s wife, noticing a stag’s
head that was set up in the gentleman’s house, could not refrain in his
presence from laughing and saying that the head was suited to the house.
Soon afterwards the gentleman, who was no less spirited than the King,
caused the following words to be written over the stag’s head:--
“Io porto le corna, ciascun lo vede, Ma tal le porta che no lo
crede.” (8)
8 “All men may see the horns I’ve got, But one wears horns
and knows it not.”
When the King came again to the house, he observed these lines newly
written, and inquired their meaning of the gentleman, who said--
“If the King’s secret be hidden from the subject, it is not fitting that
the subject’s secret should be revealed to the King. Be content with
knowing that those who wear horns do not always have their caps raised
from their heads. Some horns are so soft that they never uncap one, and
especially are they light to him who thinks he has them not.”
The King perceived by these words that the gentleman knew something of
his own behaviour, but he never had any suspicion of the love between
him and the Queen; for the more pleased the latter was with the life led
by her husband, the more did she feign to be distressed by it. And so on
either side they lived in this love, until at last old age took them in
hand.
“Here, ladies, is a story by which you may be guided, for, as I
willingly confess, it shows you that when your husbands give you bucks’
horns you can give them stags’ horns in return.”
“I am quite sure, Saffredent,” began Ennasuite laughing, “that if you
still love as ardently as you were formerly wont to do, you would
submit to horns as big as oak-trees if only you might repay them as
you pleased. However, now that your hair is growing grey, it is time to
leave your desires in peace.”
“Fair lady,” said Saffredent, “though I be robbed of hope by the woman I
love, and of ardour by old age, yet it lies not in my power to weaken
my inclination. Since you have rebuked me for so honourable a desire,
I give you my vote for the telling of the fourth tale, that we may see
whether you can bring forward some example to refute me.”
During this converse one of the ladies fell to laughing heartily,
knowing that she who took Saffredent’s words to herself was not so loved
by him that he would have suffered horns, shame, or wrong for her sake.
When Saffredent perceived that the lady who laughed understood him, he
was well satisfied and became silent, so that Ennasuite might begin;
which she did as follows--
“In order, ladies, that Saffredent and the rest of the company may know
that all ladies are not like the Queen he has spoken of, and that all
foolhardy and venturesome men do not compass their ends, I will tell
you a story in which I will acquaint you with the opinion of a lady who
deemed the vexation of failure in love to be harder of endurance than
death itself. However, I shall give no names, because the events are so
fresh in people’s minds that I should fear to offend some who are near
of kin.”
[Illustration: 078.jpg Tailpiece]
[Illustration: 079a.jpg Hurrying to her Mistress’s Assistance]
[The Princess’s Lady of Honour hurrying to her Mistress’s Assistance]
[Illustration: 079.jpg Page Image]
_TALE IV_.
_A young gentleman sought to discover whether the offer of
an honour-able love would be displeasing to his master’s
sister, a lady of the most illustrious lineage in Flanders,
who had been twice widowed, and was a woman of muck spirit.
Meeting with a reply contrary to his desires, he attempted
to possess her by force; but she resisted him successfully,
and by the advice of her lady of honour, without seeming to
take notice of his designs and efforts, gradually ceased to
regard him with the favour with which she had been wont to
treat him. Thus, by his foolhardy presumption, he lost the
honourable and habitual companionship which, more than
others, he had had with her_.(1)
1 This story is historical, and the incidents must have
occurred between 1520 and 1525.--L.
There lived in the land of Flanders a lady of such high lineage, that
none more illustrious could be found. She was a widow, both her first
and second husbands being dead, and she had no children living. During
her widowhood she lived in retirement with her brother, by whom she was
greatly loved, and who was a very great lord and married to the daughter
of a King. This young Prince was a man much given to pleasure, fond of
hunting, pastimes, and women, as his youth inclined him. He had a
wife, however, who was of a very froward disposition, (2) and found no
pleasure in her husband’s pursuits; wherefore this Lord always took
his sister along with his wife, for she was a most joyous and pleasant
companion, and withal a discreet and honourable woman.
In this Lord’s household there was a gentleman who, for stature,
comeliness, and grace, surpassed all his fellows. This gentleman, (3)
perceiving that his master’s sister was of merry mood and always ready
for a laugh, was minded to try whether the offer of an honourable love
would be displeasing to her.
2 The young prince here mentioned is Francis I., who at
this period was between twenty-five and thirty years old.
The froward wife is Claude of France (daughter of Louis XII.
and Anne of Brittany), whom Francis married in 1514, and who
died of consumption at Blois ten years later, while the King
was on his way to conquer Milan. (See the Memoir of
Margaret, pp. xxvi. and xxxv.)--Ed.
3 According to Brantôme, the Lady of Flanders, the young
Prince’s sister, was Queen Margaret herself, and the
gentleman who paid court to her was William Gouffier, Lord
of Bonnivet, of Crevecoeur, Thois, and Querdes, and also a
favourite of Francis I., with whom he was brought up, and by
whom he was employed in all the great enterprises of the
time. Bonnivet became Admiral of France in 1517, and two
years later he was created governor of Dauphiné, and
guardian of the Dauphin’s person. He negotiated the peace
and alliance with Henry VIII., and arranged all the
preliminaries of the interview known as the Field of the
Cloth of Gold (1520). In 1521, says Anselme in his _Histoire
Généalogique_, Bonnivet became governor of Guienne,
commanded the army sent to Navarre, and captured Fontarabia.
In 1524 he was despatched to Italy as lieutenant-general,
and besieged Milan, but was repeatedly repulsed, and finally
fell back on the Ticino. He was killed at Pavia (February
24, 1525), and was largely responsible for that disastrous
defeat, having urged Francis I. to give battle, contrary to
the advice of the more experienced captains. Bonnivet, as
mentioned by Queen Margaret in this story, had the
reputation of being one of the handsomest men of his time.--
L.
He made this offer, but the answer that he received from her was
contrary to his desires. However, although her reply was such as
beseemed a Princess and a woman of true virtue, she readily pardoned his
hardihood for the sake of his comeliness and breeding, and let him know
that she bore him no ill-will for what he had said. But she charged him
never to speak to her after that fashion again; and this he promised,
that he might not lose the pleasure and honour of her conversation.
Nevertheless, as time went on, his love so increased that he forgot the
promise he had made. He did not, however, risk further trial of words,
for he had learned by experience, and much against his will, what
virtuous replies she was able to make. But he reflected that if he could
take her somewhere at a disadvantage, she, being a widow, young, lusty,
and of a lively humour, would perchance take pity on him and on herself.
To compass his ends, he told his master that excellent hunting was to
be had in the neighbourhood of his house, and that if it pleased him
to repair thither and hunt three or four stags in the month of May, he
could have no finer sport. The Lord granted the gentleman’s request, as
much for the affection he bore him as for the pleasure of the chase, and
repaired to his house, which was as handsome and as fairly ordered as
that of the richest gentleman in the land.
The Lord and his Lady were lodged on one side of the house, and she whom
the gentleman loved more than himself on the other. Her apartment was
so well arranged, tapestried above and matted below,(4) that it was
impossible to perceive a trap-door which was by the side of her bed, and
which opened into a room beneath, that was occupied by the gentleman’s
mother.(5)
4 In most palaces and castles at this period the walls were
covered with tapestry and the floors with matting. This
remark is necessary to enable one to understand Bonnivet’s
stratagem.--D.
5 Philippa de Montmorency, second wife of William Gouffier,
Lord of Boissy, who was Bonnivet’s father (Anselme’s
_Histoire Généalogique_, vol. vii. p. 880).--L.
She being an old lady, somewhat troubled by rheum, and fearful lest the
cough she had should disturb the Princess, made exchange of chambers
with her son. In the evening this old lady was wont to bring sweetmeats
to the Princess for her collation,(6) at which the gentleman was
present; and being greatly beloved by her brother and intimate with him,
he was also suffered to be present when she rose in the morning and when
she retired to bed, on which occasions he always found reasons for an
increase of his affection.
6 At that period the collation, as the supper was called,
was served at seven in the evening, shortly before the
curfew.--B. J.
Thus it came to pass that one evening he made the Princess stay up very
late, until at last, being desirous of sleep, she bade him leave her.
He then went to his own room, and there put on the handsomest and
best-scented shirt he had, and a nightcap so well adorned that nothing
was lacking in it. It seemed, to him, as he looked at himself in his
mirror, that no lady in the world could deny herself to one of his
comeliness and grace. He therefore promised himself a happy issue to
his enterprise, and so lay down on his bed, where in his desire and sure
hope of exchanging it for one more honourable and pleasant, he looked to
make no very long stay.
As soon as he had dismissed all his attendants he rose to fasten the
door after them; and for a long time he listened to hear whether there
were any sound in the room of the Princess, which was above his own.
When he had made sure that all was quiet, he wished to begin his
pleasant task, and little by little let down the trap-door, which was
so excellently wrought, and so well covered with cloth, that it made not
the least noise. Then he ascended into the room and came to the bedside
of his lady, who was just falling asleep.
Forthwith, having no regard for the duty that he owed his mistress or
for the house to which she belonged, he got into bed with her, without
entreating her permission or making any kind of ceremony. She felt him
in her arms before she knew that he had entered the room; but being
strong, she freed herself from his grasp, and fell to striking, biting,
and scratching him, demanding the while to know who he was, so that
for fear lest she should call out he sought to stop her mouth with the
bedclothes. But this he found it impossible to do, for when she saw
that he was using all his strength to work her shame she did as much
to baffle him. She further called as loudly as she could to her lady of
honour,(7) who slept in her room; and this old and virtuous woman ran to
her mistress in her nightdress.
7 The lady in question was Blanche de Tournon, daughter of
James de Tournon, by Jane de Polignac, and sister of
Cardinal de Tournon, Minister of Francis I. She first
married Raymond d’Agout, Baron of Sault in Provence, who
died in 1503; and secondly James de Chastillon, Chamberlain
to Charles VIII. and Louis XII., killed at the siege of
Ravenna in 1512. Brantôme states, moreover, that she
subsequently married Cardinal John du Bellay. (See Appendix
to the’present volume, C.) In this story, Margaret describes
the Princess of Flanders as having lost two husbands, with
the view of disguising the identity of her heroine. Her own
husband (the Duke of Alençon) was still alive; but Madame de
Chastillon had twice become a widow, and the Queen, who was
well aware of this, designedly ascribed to the Princess the
situation of the lady of honour. This story should be
compared with the poem “Quatre Dames et Quatre
Gentilhommes” in the _Marguerites de la Marguerite_.--F.
When the gentleman saw that he was discovered, he was so fearful of
being recognised by the lady, that he descended in all haste through his
trap-door; his despair at returning in such an evil plight being no less
than his desire and assurance of a gracious reception had previously
been. He found his mirror and candle on his table,(8) and looking at his
face, all bleeding from the lady’s scratches and bites, whence the blood
was trickling over his fine shirt, which had now more blood than gold
(9) about it, he said--
8 It is not surprising that the mirror should have been
lying on the table. Mirrors were for a long time no larger
than our modern hand-glasses. That of Mary de’ Medici,
offered to her by the Republic of Venice, and now in the
Galerie d’Apollon at the Louvre, is extremely small, though
it has an elaborate frame enriched with precious cameos.
Even the mirrors placed by Louis XIV. in the celebrated
Galerie des Glaces at Versailles were no larger than
ordinary window-panes.--M.
9 Shirts were then adorned at the collar and in front with
gold-thread embroidery, such as is shown in some of Clouet’s
portraits. In M. de Laborde’s _Comptes des Bâtiments du Roi
au XVIème Siècle_ (vol. ii.) mention is made of “a shirt
with gold work,” “a shirt with white work,” &c.; and also of
two beautiful women’s chemises in Holland linen “richly
worked with gold thread and silk, at the price of six crowns
apiece.”--M.
“Beauty! now hast thou been rewarded according to thy deserts. By reason
of thy vain promises I attempted an impossible undertaking, and one
that, instead of increasing my happiness, will perchance double my
misfortune. I feel sure that if she knows I made this foolish attempt
contrary to the promise I gave her, I shall lose the honourable and
accustomed companionship which more than any other I have had with her.
And my folly has well deserved this, for if I was to turn my good
looks and grace to any account, I ought not to have hidden them in the
darkness. I should not have sought to take that chaste body by force,
but should have waited in long service and humble patience till love
had conquered her. Without love, all man’s merits and might are of no
avail.”
Thus he passed the night in tears, regrets, and sorrowings such as I
cannot describe; and in the morning, finding his face greatly torn, he
feigned grievous sickness and to be unable to endure the light, until
the company had left his house.
The lady, who had come off victorious, knew that there was no man at her
brother’s Court that durst attempt such an enterprise save him who had
had the boldness to declare his love to her. She therefore concluded
that it was indeed her host, and made search through the room with her
lady of honour to discover how he could have entered it. But in this she
failed, whereupon she said to her companion in great anger--
“You may be sure that it can have been none other than the lord of this
house, and I will make such report of him to my brother in the morning
that his head shall bear witness to my chastity.”