“I have wronged you; forgive me.”
“If you were ever wronged by me,” replied the gentleman, “I have
been well punished, for I am so sorely wounded that I cannot hope to
recover.”
Then the brother-in-law put him on horseback again as well as he might,
and brought him back to the house, where on the morrow he died. And the
brother-in-law confessed in presence of all the gentleman’s relatives
that he had been the cause of his death.
However, for the satisfaction of justice, he was advised to go and
solicit pardon from King Francis, first of the name; and accordingly,
after giving honourable burial to husband, wife and child, he departed
on Good Friday to the Court in order to sue there for pardon, which
he obtained through the good offices of Master Francis Olivier, then
Chancellor of Alençon, afterwards chosen by the King, for his merits, to
be Chancellor of France. (5)
5 M. de Montaiglon has vainly searched the French Archives
for the letters of remission granted to the gentleman. There
is no mention of them in the registers of the Trésor des
Chartes. Francis Olivier, alluded to above, was one of the
most famous magistrates of the sixteenth century. Son of
James Olivier, First President of the Parliament of Paris
and Bishop of Angers, he was born in 1493 and became
successively advocate, member of the Grand Council,
ambassador, Chancellor of Alençon, President of the Paris
Parliament, Keeper of the Seals and Chancellor of France.
This latter dignity was conferred upon him through Queen
Margaret’s influence in April 1545. The above tale must have
been written subsequent to that date. Olivier’s talents were
still held in high esteem under both Henry II. and Francis
II.; he died in 1590, aged 67.--(Blanchard’s _Éloges de tous
les Présidents du Parlement, &c_., Paris, 1645, in-fol. p.
185.)
Ste. Marthe, in his funeral oration on Queen Margaret,
refers to Olivier in the following pompous strain: “When
Brinon died Chancellor of this duchy of Alençon, Francis
Olivier was set in his place, and so greatly adorned this
dignity by his admirable virtues, and so increased the
grandeur of the office of Chancellor, that, like one of
exceeding merit on whom Divine Providence, disposing of the
affairs of France, has conferred a more exalted office, he
is today raised to the highest degree of honour, and, even
as Atlas upholds the Heavens upon his shoulders, so he by
his prudence doth uphold the entire Gallic commonwealth.”--
M. L. and Ed.
“I am of opinion, ladies, that after hearing this true story there is
none among you but will think twice before lodging such knaves in her
house, and will be persuaded that hidden poison is always the most
dangerous.”
“Remember,” said Hircan, “that the husband was a great fool to bring
such a gallant to sup with his fair and virtuous wife.”
“I have known the time,” said Geburon, “when in our part of the country
there was not a house but had a room set apart for the good fathers; but
now they are known so well that they are dreaded more than bandits.”
“It seems to me,” said Parlamente, “that when a woman is in bed
she should never allow a priest to enter the room, unless it be to
administer to her the sacraments of the Church. For my own part, when I
send for them, I may indeed be deemed at the point of death.”
“If every one were as strict as you are,” said Ennasuite, “the poor
priests would be worse than excommunicated, in being wholly shut off
from the sight of women.”
“Have no such fear on their account,” said Saffredent; “they will never
want for women.”
“Why,” said Simontault, “‘tis the very men that have united us to our
wives by the marriage tie that wickedly seek to loose it and bring about
the breaking of the oath which they have themselves laid upon us.”
“It is a great pity,” said Oisille, “that those who administer the
sacraments should thus trifle with them. They ought to be burned alive.”
“You would do better to honour rather than blame them,” said Saffredent,
“and to flatter rather than revile them, for they are men who have it in
their power to burn and dishonour others. Wherefore ‘_sinite eos_,’ and
let us see to whom Oisille will give her vote.”
“I give it,” said she, “to Dagoucin, for he has become so thoughtful
that I think he must have made ready to tell us something good.”
“Since I cannot and dare not reply as I would,” said Dagoucin, “I will
at least tell of a man to whom similar cruelty at first brought hurt but
afterwards profit. Although Love accounts himself so strong and powerful
that he will go naked, and finds it irksome, nay intolerable, to
go cloaked, nevertheless, ladies, it often happens that those who,
following his counsel, are over-quick in declaring themselves, find
themselves the worse for it. Such was the experience of a Castilian
gentleman, whose story you shall now hear.”
[Illustration: 112.jpg Tailpiece]
[Illustration: 113a.jpg Elisor showing the Queen her own Image]
[Elisor showing the Queen her own Image]
[Illustration: 113.jpg Page Image]
_TALE XXIV_.
_Elisor, having unwisely ventured to discover his love to
the Queen of Castile, was by her put to the test in so cruel
a fashion that he suffered sorely, yet did he reap advantage
therefrom_.
In the household of the King and Queen of Castile, (1) whose names
shall not be mentioned, there was a gentleman of such perfection in all
qualities of mind and body, that his like could not be found in all the
Spains. All wondered at his merits, but still more at the strangeness of
his temper, for he had never been known to love or have connection with
any lady. There were very many at Court that might have set his icy
nature afire, but there was not one among them whose charms had power to
attract Elisor; for so this gentleman was called.
1 M. Lacroix conjectures that the sovereigns referred to
are Ferdinand and Isabella, but this appears to us a
baseless supposition. The conduct of the Queen in the story
is in no wise in keeping with what we know of Isabella’s
character. Queen Margaret doubtless heard this tale during
her sojourn in Spain in 1525. We have consulted many Spanish
works, and notably collections of the old ballads, in the
hope of being able to throw some light on the incidents
related, but have been no more successful than previous
commentators.--Ed.
The Queen, who was a virtuous woman but by no means free from that
flame which proves all the fiercer the less it is perceived, was much
astonished to find that this gentleman loved none of her ladies; and one
day she asked him whether it were possible that he could indeed love as
little as he seemed to do.
He replied that if she could look upon his heart as she did his face,
she would not ask him such a question. Desiring to know his meaning, she
pressed him so closely that he confessed he loved a lady whom he deemed
the most virtuous in all Christendom. The Queen did all that she could
by entreaties and commands to find out who the lady might be, but in
vain; whereupon, feigning great wrath, she vowed that she would never
speak to him any more if he did not tell her the name of the lady he so
dearly loved. At this he was greatly disturbed, and was constrained to
say that he would rather die, if need were, than name her.
Finding, however, that he would lose the Queen’s presence and favour in
default of telling her a thing in itself so honourable that it ought not
to be taken in ill part by any one, he said to her in great fear--
“I cannot and dare not tell you, madam, but the first time you go
hunting I will show her to you, and I feel sure that you will deem her
the fairest and most perfect lady in the world.”
This reply caused the Queen to go hunting sooner than she would
otherwise have done.
Elisor, having notice of this, made ready to attend her as was his wont,
and caused a large steel mirror after the fashion of a corselet to be
made for him, which he placed upon his breast and covered with a cloak
of black frieze, bordered with purflew and gold braid. He was mounted
on a coal-black steed, well caparisoned with everything needful to the
equipment of a horse, and such part of this as was metal was wholly of
gold, wrought with black enamel in the Moorish style. (2)