old lord of the French court, came to conduct him to the king. The King
of France was an absolute monarch, and the invitation to court was in
the form of a royal mandate, or positive command, which no subject, of
what high dignity soever, might disobey; therefore though the countess,
in parting with this dear son, seemed a second time to bury her husband,
whose loss she had so lately mourned, yet she dared not to keep him a
single day, but gave instant orders for his departure. Lafeu, who came
to fetch him, tried to comfort the countess for the loss of her late
lord, and her son's sudden absence; and he said, in a courtier's
flattering manner, that the king was so kind a prince, she would find in
his majesty a husband, and that he would be a father to her son; meaning
only, that the good king would befriend the fortunes of Bertram. Lafeu
told the countess that the king had fallen into a sad malady, which was
pronounced by his physicians to be incurable. The lady expressed great
sorrow on hearing this account of the king's ill health, and said, she
wished the father of Helena (a young gentlewoman who was present in
attendance upon her) were living, for that she doubted not he could have
cured his majesty of his disease. And she told Lafeu something of the
history of Helena, saying she was the only daughter of the famous
physician Gerard de Narbon, and that he had recommended his daughter to
her care when he was dying, so that since his death she had taken Helena
under her protection; then the countess praised the virtuous disposition
and excellent qualities of Helena, saying she inherited these virtues
from her worthy father. While she was speaking, Helena wept in sad and
mournful silence, which made the countess gently reprove her for too
much grieving for her father's death.
Bertram now bade his mother farewell. The countess parted with this dear
son with tears and many blessings, and commended him to the care of
Lafeu, saying, "Good my lord, advise him, for he is an unseasoned
courtier."
Bertram's last words were spoken to Helena, but they were words of mere
civility, wishing her happiness; and he concluded his short farewell to
her with saying, "Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make
much of her."
Helena had long loved Bertram, and when she wept in sad and mournful
silence, the tears she shed were not for Gerard de Narbon. Helena loved
her father, but in the present feeling of a deeper love, the object of
which she was about to lose, she had forgotten the very form and
features of her dead father, her imagination presenting no image to her
mind but Bertram's.
Helena had long loved Bertram, yet she always remembered that he was the
Count of Rousillon, descended from the most ancient family in France.
She of humble birth. Her parents of no note at all. His ancestors all
noble. And therefore she looked up to the high-born Bertram as to her
master and to her dear lord, and dared not form any wish but to live his
servant, and so living to die his vassal. So great the distance seemed
to her between his height of dignity and her lowly fortunes, that she
would say, "It were all one that I should love a bright particular star,
and think to wed it, Bertram is so far above me."
Bertram's absence filled her eyes with tears and her heart with sorrow;
for though she loved without hope, yet it was a pretty comfort to her to
see him every hour, and Helena would sit and look upon his dark eye, his
arched brow, and the curls of his fine hair, till she seemed to draw his
portrait on the tablet of her heart, that heart too capable of retaining
the memory of every line in the features of that loved face.
Gerard de Narbon, when he died, left her no other portion than some
prescriptions of rare and well-proved virtue, which by deep study and
long experience in medicine he had collected as sovereign and almost
infallible remedies. Among the rest, there was one set down as an
approved medicine for the disease under which Lafeu said the king at
that time languished: and when Helena heard of the king's complaint,
she, who till now had been so humble and so hopeless, formed an
ambitious project in her mind to go herself to Paris, and undertake the
cure of the king. But though Helena was the possessor of this choice
prescription, it was unlikely, as the king as well as his physicians was
of opinion that his disease was incurable, that they would give credit
to a poor unlearned virgin, if she should offer to perform a cure. The
firm hopes that Helena had of succeeding, if she might be permitted to
make the trial, seemed more than even her father's skill warranted,
though he was the most famous physician of his time; for she felt a
strong faith that this good medicine was sanctified by all the luckiest
stars in heaven to be the legacy that should advance her fortune, even
to the high dignity of being Count Rousillon's wife.
Bertram had not been long gone, when the countess was informed by her
steward, that he had overheard Helena talking to herself, and that he
understood from some words she uttered, she was in love with Bertram,
and thought of following him to Paris. The countess dismissed the
steward with thanks, and desired him to tell Helena she wished to speak
with her. What she had just heard of Helena brought the remembrance of
days long past into the mind of the countess; those days probably when
her love for Bertram's father first began; and she said to herself,
"Even so it was with me when I was young. Love is a thorn that belongs
to the rose of youth; for in the season of youth, if ever we are
nature's children, these faults are ours, though then we think not they
are faults."
While the countess was thus meditating on the loving errors of her own
youth, Helena entered, and she said to her, "Helena, you know I am a
mother to you." Helena replied, "You are my honourable mistress." "You
are my daughter," said the countess again: "I say I am your mother. Why
do you start and look pale at my words?" With looks of alarm and
confused thoughts, fearing the countess suspected her love, Helena still
replied, "Pardon me, madam, you are not my mother; the Count Rousillon
cannot be my brother, nor I your daughter." "Yet, Helena," said the
countess, "you might be my daughter-in-law; and I am afraid that is what
you mean to be, the words _mother_ and _daughter_ so disturb you.
Helena, do you love my son?" "Good madam, pardon me," said the
affrighted Helena. Again the countess repeated her question, "Do you
love my son?" "Do not you love him, madam?" said Helena. The countess
replied, "Give me not this evasive answer, Helena. Come, come, disclose
the state of your affections, for your love has to the full appeared."
Helena on her knees now owned her love, and with shame and terror
implored the pardon of her noble mistress; and with words expressive of
the sense she had of the inequality between their fortunes, she
protested Bertram did not know she loved him, comparing her humble
unaspiring love to a poor Indian, who adores the sun that looks upon his
worshipper, but knows of him no more. The countess asked Helena if she
had not lately an intent to go to Paris? Helena owned the design she had
formed in her mind, when she heard Lafeu speak of the king's illness.
"This was your motive for wishing to go to Paris," said the countess,
"was it? Speak truly." Helena honestly answered, "My lord your son made
me to think of this; else Paris, and the medicine, and the king, had
from the conversation of my thoughts been absent then." The countess
heard the whole of this confession without saying a word either of
approval or of blame, but she strictly questioned Helena as to the
probability of the medicine being useful to the king. She found that it
was the most prized by Gerard de Narbon of all he possessed, and that he
had given it to his daughter on his deathbed; and remembering the solemn
promise she had made at that awful hour in regard to this young maid,
whose destiny, and the life of the king himself, seemed to depend on the
execution of a project (which though conceived by the fond suggestions
of a loving maiden's thoughts, the countess knew not but it might be the
unseen workings of Providence to bring to pass the recovery of the king,
and to lay the foundation of the future fortunes of Gerard de Narbon's
daughter), free leave she gave to Helena to pursue her own way, and
generously furnished her with ample means and suitable attendants; and
Helena set out for Paris with the blessings of the countess, and her
kindest wishes for her success.
Helena arrived at Paris, and by the assistance of her friend the old
Lord Lafeu, she obtained an audience of the king. She had still many
difficulties to encounter, for the king was not easily prevailed on to
try the medicine offered him by this fair young doctor. But she told him
she was Gerard de Narbon's daughter (with whose fame the king was well
acquainted), and she offered the precious medicine as the darling
treasure which contained the essence of all her father's long experience
and skill, and she boldly engaged to forfeit her life, if it failed to
restore his majesty to perfect health in the space of two days. The king
at length consented to try it, and in two days' time Helena was to lose
her life if the king did not recover; but if she succeeded, he promised
to give her the choice of any man throughout all France (the princes
only excepted) whom she could like for a husband; the choice of a
husband being the fee Helena demanded if she cured the king of his
disease.
Helena did not deceive herself in the hope she conceived of the efficacy
of her father's medicine. Before two days were at an end, the king was
restored to perfect health, and he assembled all the young noblemen of
his court together, in order to confer the promised reward of a husband
upon his fair physician; and he desired Helena to look round on this
youthful parcel of noble bachelors, and choose her husband. Helena was
not slow to make her choice, for among these young lords she saw the
Count Rousillon, and turning to Bertram, she said, "This is the man. I
dare not say, my lord, I take you, but I give me and my service ever
whilst I live into your guiding power." "Why, then," said the king,
"young Bertram, take her; she is your wife." Bertram did not hesitate to
declare his dislike to this present of the king's of the self-offered
Helena, who, he said, was a poor physician's daughter, bred at his
father's charge, and now living a dependent on his mother's bounty.
Helena heard him speak these words of rejection and of scorn, and she
said to the king, "That you are well, my lord, I am glad. Let the rest
go." But the king would not suffer his royal command to be so slighted;
for the power of bestowing their nobles in marriage was one of the many
privileges of the kings of France; and that same day Bertram was married
to Helena, a forced and uneasy marriage to Bertram, and of no promising
hope to the poor lady, who, though she gained the noble husband she had
hazarded her life to obtain, seemed to have won but a splendid blank,
her husband's love not being a gift in the power of the King of France
to bestow.
Helena was no sooner married, than she was desired by Bertram to apply
to the king for him for leave of absence from court; and when she
brought him the king's permission for his departure, Bertram told her
that he was not prepared for this sudden marriage, it had much unsettled
him, and therefore she must not wonder at the course he should pursue.
If Helena wondered not, she grieved when she found it was his intention
to leave her. He ordered her to go home to his mother. When Helena heard
this unkind command, she replied, "Sir, I can nothing say to this, but
that I am your most obedient servant, and shall ever with true
observance seek to eke out that desert, wherein my homely stars have
failed to equal my great fortunes." But this humble speech of Helena's
did not at all move the haughty Bertram to pity his gentle wife, and he
parted from her without even the common civility of a kind farewell.
Back to the countess then Helena returned. She had accomplished the
purport of her journey, she had preserved the life of the king, and she
had wedded her heart's dear lord, the Count Rousillon; but she returned
back a dejected lady to her noble mother-in-law, and as soon as she
entered the house she received a letter from Bertram which almost broke
her heart.
The good countess received her with a cordial welcome, as if she had
been her son's own choice, and a lady of a high degree, and she spoke
kind words to comfort her for the unkind neglect of Bertram in sending
his wife home on her bridal day alone. But this gracious reception
failed to cheer the sad mind of Helena, and she said, "Madam, my lord is
gone, for ever gone." She then read these words out of Bertram's letter:
_When you can get the ring from my finger, which never shall come off,
then call me husband, but in such a Then I write a Never_. "This is a
dreadful sentence!" said Helena. The countess begged her to have
patience, and said, now Bertram was gone, she should be her child, and
that she deserved a lord that twenty such rude boys as Bertram might
tend upon, and hourly call her mistress. But in vain by respectful
condescension and kind flattery this matchless mother tried to soothe
the sorrows of her daughter-in-law.
Helena still kept her eyes fixed upon the letter, and cried out in an
agony of grief, _Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France_. The
countess asked her if she found those words in the letter? "Yes, madam,"
was all poor Helena could answer.
The next morning Helena was missing. She left a letter to be delivered
to the countess after she was gone, to acquaint her with the reason of
her sudden absence: in this letter she informed her that she was so much
grieved at having driven Bertram from his native country and his home,
that to atone for her offence, she had undertaken a pilgrimage to the
shrine of St. Jaques le Grand, and concluded with requesting the
countess to inform her son that the wife he so hated had left his house
for ever.
Bertram, when he left Paris, went to Florence, and there became an
officer in the Duke of Florence's army, and after a successful war, in
which he distinguished himself by many brave actions, Bertram received
letters from his mother, containing the acceptable tidings that Helena
would no more disturb him; and he was preparing to return home, when
Helena herself, clad in her pilgrim's weeds, arrived at the city of
Florence.
Florence was a city through which the pilgrims used to pass on their way
to St. Jaques le Grand; and when Helena arrived at this city, she heard
that a hospitable widow dwelt there, who used to receive into her house
the female pilgrims that were going to visit the shrine of that saint,
giving them lodging and kind entertainment. To this good lady,
therefore, Helena went, and the widow gave her a courteous welcome, and
invited her to see whatever was curious in that famous city, and told
her that if she would like to see the duke's army, she would take her
where she might have a full view of it. "And you will see a countryman
of yours," said the widow; "his name is Count Rousillon, who has done
worthy service in the duke's wars." Helena wanted no second invitation,
when she found Bertram was to make part of the show. She accompanied her
hostess; and a sad and mournful pleasure it was to her to look once more
upon her dear husband's face. "Is he not a handsome man?" said the
widow. "I like him well," replied Helena, with great truth. All the way
they walked, the talkative widow's discourse was all of Bertram: she
told Helena the story of Bertram's marriage, and how he had deserted the
poor lady his wife, and entered into the duke's army to avoid living
with her. To this account of her own misfortunes Helena patiently
listened, and when it was ended, the history of Bertram was not yet
done, for then the widow began another tale, every word of which sank
deep into the mind of Helena; for the story she now told was of
Bertram's love for her daughter.
Though Bertram did not like the marriage forced on him by the king, it
seems he was not insensible to love, for since he had been stationed
with the army at Florence, he had fallen in love with Diana, a fair
young gentlewoman, the daughter of this widow who was Helena's hostess;
and every night, with music of all sorts, and songs composed in praise
of Diana's beauty, he would come under her window, and solicit her love;
and all his suit to her was, that she would permit him to visit her by
stealth after the family were retired to rest; but Diana would by no
means be persuaded to grant this improper request, nor give any
encouragement to his suit, knowing him to be a married man; for Diana
had been brought up under the counsels of a prudent mother, who, though
she was now in reduced circumstances, was well born, and descended from
the noble family of the Capulets.
All this the good lady related to Helena, highly praising the virtuous
principles of her discreet daughter, which she said were entirely owing
to the excellent education and good advice she had given her; and she
further said, that Bertram had been particularly importunate with Diana
to admit him to the visit he so much desired that night, because he was
going to leave Florence early the next morning.
Though it grieved Helena to hear of Bertram's love for the widow's
daughter, yet from this story the ardent mind of Helena conceived a
project (nothing discouraged at the ill success of her former one) to
recover her truant lord. She disclosed to the widow that she was Helena,
the deserted wife of Bertram, and requested that her kind hostess and
her daughter would suffer this visit from Bertram to take place, and
allow her to pass herself upon Bertram for Diana; telling them, her
chief motive for desiring to have this secret meeting with her husband,
was to get a ring from him, which he had said, if ever she was in
possession of he would acknowledge her as his wife.
The widow and her daughter promised to assist her in this affair, partly
moved by pity for this unhappy forsaken wife, and partly won over to her
interest by the promises of reward which Helena made them, giving them a
purse of money in earnest of her future favour. In the course of that
day Helena caused information to be sent to Bertram that she was dead;
hoping that when he thought himself free to make a second choice by the
news of her death, he would offer marriage to her in her feigned
character of Diana. And if she could obtain the ring and this promise
too, she doubted not she should make some future good come of it.
In the evening, after it was dark, Bertram was admitted into Diana's
chamber, and Helena was there ready to receive him. The flattering
compliments and love discourse he addressed to Helena were precious
sounds to her, though she knew they were meant for Diana; and Bertram
was so well pleased with her, that he made her a solemn promise to be
her husband, and to love her for ever; which she hoped would be
prophetic of a real affection, when he should know it was his own wife,
the despised Helena, whose conversation had so delighted him.
Bertram never knew how sensible a lady Helena was, else perhaps he would
not have been so regardless of her; and seeing her every day, he had
entirely overlooked her beauty; a face we are accustomed to see
constantly, losing the effect which is caused by the first sight either
of beauty or of plainness; and of her understanding it was impossible he
should judge, because she felt such reverence, mixed with her love for
him, that she was always silent in his presence: but now that her future
fate, and the happy ending of all her love-projects, seemed to depend on
her leaving a favourable impression on the mind of Bertram from this
night's interview, she exerted all her wit to please him; and the simple
graces of her lively conversation and the endearing sweetness of her
manners so charmed Bertram, that he vowed she should be his wife. Helena
begged the ring from off his finger as a token of his regard, and he
gave it to her; and in return for this ring, which it was of such
importance to her to possess, she gave him another ring, which was one
the king had made her a present of. Before it was light in the morning,
she sent Bertram away; and he immediately set out on his journey towards
his mother's house.
Helena prevailed on the widow and Diana to accompany her to Paris, their
further assistance being necessary to the full accomplishment of the
plan she had formed. When they arrived there, they found the king was
gone upon a visit to the Countess of Rousillon, and Helena followed the
king with all the speed she could make.
The king was still in perfect health, and his gratitude to her who had
been the means of his recovery was so lively in his mind, that the
moment he saw the Countess of Rousillon, he began to talk of Helena,
calling her a precious jewel that was lost by the folly of her son; but
seeing the subject distressed the countess, who sincerely lamented the
death of Helena, he said, "My good lady, I have forgiven and forgotten
all." But the good-natured old Lafeu, who was present, and could not
bear that the memory of his favourite Helena should be so lightly passed
over, said, "This I must say, the young lord did great offence to his
majesty, his mother, and his lady; but to himself he did the greatest
wrong of all, for he has lost a wife whose beauty astonished all eyes,
whose words took all ears captive, whose deep perfection made all hearts
wish to serve her." The king said, "Praising what is lost makes the
remembrance dear. Well--call him hither;" meaning Bertram, who now
presented himself before the king: and, on his expressing deep sorrow
for the injuries he had done to Helena, the king, for his dead father's
and his admirable mother's sake, pardoned him and restored him once more
to his favour. But the gracious countenance of the king was soon changed
towards him, for he perceived that Bertram wore the very ring upon his
finger which he had given to Helena: and he well remembered that Helena
had called all the saints in heaven to witness she would never part with
that ring, unless she sent it to the king himself upon some great
disaster befalling her; and Bertram, on the king's questioning him how
he came by the ring, told an improbable story of a lady throwing it to
him out of a window, and denied ever having seen Helena since the day of
their marriage. The king, knowing Bertram's dislike to his wife, feared
he had destroyed her: and he ordered his guards to seize Bertram,
saying, "I am wrapt in dismal thinking, for I fear the life of Helena
was foully snatched." At this moment Diana and her mother entered, and
presented a petition to the king, wherein they begged his majesty to
exert his royal power to compel Bertram to marry Diana, he having made
her a solemn promise of marriage. Bertram, fearing the king's anger,
denied he had made any such promise; and then Diana produced the ring
(which Helena had put into her hands) to confirm the truth of her words;
and she said that she had given Bertram the ring he then wore, in
exchange for that, at the time he vowed to marry her. On hearing this,
the king ordered the guards to seize her also; and her account of the
ring differing from Bertram's, the king's suspicions were confirmed: and
he said, if they did not confess how they came by this ring of Helena's,
they should be both put to death. Diana requested her mother might be
permitted to fetch the jeweller of whom she bought the ring, which being
granted, the widow went out, and presently returned leading in Helena
herself.
The good countess, who in silent grief had beheld her son's danger, and
had even dreaded that the suspicion of his having destroyed his wife
might possibly be true, finding her dear Helena, whom she loved with
even a maternal affection, was still living, felt a delight she was
hardly able to support; and the king, scarce believing for joy that it
was Helena, said, "Is this indeed the wife of Bertram that I see?"
Helena, feeling herself yet an unacknowledged wife, replied, "No, my
good lord, it is but the shadow of a wife you see, the name and not the
thing." Bertram cried out, "Both, both! O pardon!"--"O my lord," said
Helena, "when I personated this fair maid, I found you wondrous kind;
and look, here is your letter!" reading to him in a joyful tone those
words which she had once repeated so sorrowfully, _When from my finger
you can get this ring_,--"This is done; it was to me you gave the ring.
Will you be mine, now you are doubly won?" Bertram replied, "If you can
make it plain that you were the lady I talked with that night, I will
love you dearly ever, ever dearly." This was no difficult task, for the
widow and Diana came with Helena to prove this fact; and the king was so
well pleased with Diana, for the friendly assistance she had rendered
the dear lady he so truly valued for the service she had done him, that
he promised her also a noble husband: Helena's history giving him a
hint, that it was a suitable reward for kings to bestow upon fair ladies
when they perform notable services.
Thus Helena at last found that her father's legacy was indeed sanctified
by the luckiest stars in heaven; for she was now the beloved wife of her
dear Bertram, the daughter-in-law of her noble mistress, and herself the
Countess of Rousillon.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE TAMING OF THE SHREW