The Prince, seeing this fair and youthful lady whose eyes and
countenance invited him to love her, came and spoke to her with such
eloquence and grace that she was well pleased with his discourse.
Nor did she seek to hide from him that she had long had in her heart the
love for which he prayed, but entreated that he would spare all pains to
persuade her to a thing to which love, at first sight, had brought her
to consent. Having, by the artlessness of love, so promptly gained what
was well worth the pains of being won by time, the young Prince thanked
God for His favour, and forthwith contrived matters so well that they
agreed together in devising a means for seeing each other in private.
The young Prince failed not to appear at the time and place that had
been agreed upon, and, that he might not injure his lady’s honour, he
went in disguise. On account, however, of the evil fellows (3) who were
wont to prowl at night through the city, and to whom he cared not
to make himself known, he took with him certain gentlemen in whom he
trusted.
3 The French expression here is _mauvais garsons_, a name
generally given to foot-pads at that time, but applied more
particularly to a large band of brigands who, in the
confusion prevailing during Francis I.’s captivity in Spain,
began to infest the woods and forests around Paris, whence
at night-time they descended upon the city. Several
engagements were fought between them and the troops of the
Queen-Regent, and although their leader, called King
Guillot, was captured and hanged, the remnants of the band
continued their depredations for several years.--B. J.
And on entering the street in which the lady lived, he parted from them,
saying--
“If you hear no noise within a quarter of an hour, go home again, and
come back here for me at about three or four o’clock.”
They did as they were commanded, and, hearing no noise, withdrew.
The young Prince went straight to his advocate’s house, where he found
the door open as had been promised him. But as he was ascending the
staircase he met the husband, carrying a candle in his hand, and was
perceived by him before he was aware. However Love, who provides wit and
boldness to contend with the difficulties that he creates, prompted the
young Prince to go straight up to him and say--
“Master advocate, you know the trust which I and all belonging to my
house have ever put in you, and how I reckon you among my best and
truest servants. I have now thought it well to visit you here in
private, both to commend my affairs to you, and also to beg you to give
me something to drink, for I am in great thirst. And, I pray you, tell
none that I have come here, for from this place I must go to another
where I would not be known.”
The worthy advocate was well pleased at the honour which the Prince paid
him in coming thus privately to his house, and, leading him to his
own room, he bade his wife prepare a collation of the best fruits and
confections that she had.
Although the garments she wore, a kerchief and mantle, made her appear
more beautiful than ever, the young Prince affected not to look at her
or notice her, but spoke unceasingly to her husband about his affairs,
as to one who had long had them in his hands. And, whilst the lady was
kneeling with the confections before the Prince, and her husband was
gone to the sideboard in order to serve him with drink, she told him
that on leaving the room he must not fail to enter a closet which he
would find on the right hand, and whither she would very soon come to
see him.
As soon as he had drunk, he thanked the advocate, who was all eagerness
to attend him; but the Prince assured him that in the place whither he
was going he had no need of attendance, and thereupon turning to the
wife, he said--
“Moreover, I will not do so ill as to deprive you of your excellent
husband, who is also an old servant of mine. Well may you render thanks
to God since you are so fortunate as to have such a husband, well may
you render him service and obedience. If you did otherwise, you would be
blameworthy indeed.”
With these virtuous words the young Prince went away, and, closing the
door behind him so that he might not be followed to the staircase,
he entered the closet, whither also came the fair lady as soon as her
husband had fallen asleep.
Thence she led the Prince into a cabinet as choicely furnished as might
be, though in truth there were no fairer figures in it than he and she,
no matter what garments they may have been pleased to wear. And here, I
doubt not, she kept word with him as to all that she had promised.
He departed thence at the hour which he had appointed with his
gentlemen, and found them at the spot where he had aforetime bidden them
wait.
As this intercourse lasted a fairly long time, the young Prince chose
a shorter way to the advocate’s house, and this led him through a
monastery of monks. (4) And so well did he contrive matters with the
Prior, that the porter used always to open the gate for him about
midnight, and do the like also when he returned. And, as the house which
he visited was hard by, he used to take nobody with him.
4 If at this period Jane Disome, the heroine of the story,
lived in the Rue de la Pauheminerie, where she is known to
have died some years afterwards, this monastery, in Baron
Jerome Pichon’s opinion, would be the Blancs-Manteaux, in
the Marais district of Paris. We may further point out that
in the Rue Barbette, near by, there was till modern times a
house traditionally known as the “hôtel de la belle
Féronnière.” That many writers have confused the heroine of
this tale with La Belle Féronnière (so called because her
husband was a certain Le Féron, an advocate) seems manifest;
the intrigue in which the former took part was doubtless
ascribed in error to the latter, and the proximity of their
abodes may have led to the mistake. It should be pointed
out, however, that the amour here recorded by Queen Margaret
took place in or about the year 1515, before Francis I.
ascended the throne, whereas La Féronnière was in all her
beauty between 1530 and 1540. The tradition that the King
had an intrigue with La Féronnière reposes on the flimsiest
evidence (see Appendix B), and the supposition, re-echoed by
the Bibliophile Jacob, that it was carried on in the Rue de
l’Hirondelle, is entirely erroneous. The house, adorned with
the salamander device and corneted initials of Francis I.,
which formerly extended from that street to the Rue Git-le-
Coeur, never had any connection with La Féronnière. It was
the famous so-called Palace of Love which the King built for
his acknowledged mistress, Anne de Pisseleu, Duchess of
Étampes.--Ed.
Although he led the life that I have described, he was nevertheless a
Prince that feared and loved God, and although he made no pause when
going, he never failed on his return to continue for a long time praying
in the church. And the monks, who when going to and fro at the hour of
matins used to see him there on his knees, were thereby led to consider
him the holiest man alive.
This Prince had a sister (5) who often visited this monastery, and as
she loved her brother more than any other living being, she used to
commend him to the prayers of all whom she knew to be good.
5 This of course is Queen Margaret, then Duchess of
Alençon. On account of her apparent intimacy with the prior,
M. de Montaiglon conjectures that the monastery may have
been that of St. Martin-in-the-Fields.--See ante, Tale
XXII.--Ed.
One day, when she was in this manner commending him lovingly to the
Prior of the monastery, the Prior said to her--
“Ah, madam, whom are you thus commending to me? You are speaking to me
of a man in whose prayers, above those of all others, I would myself
fain be remembered. For if he be not a holy man and a just”--here he
quoted the passage which says, “Blessed is he that can do evil and doeth
it not”--“_I_ cannot hope to be held for such.”
The sister, wishing to learn what knowledge this worthy father could
have of her brother’s goodness, questioned him so pressingly that he at
last told her the secret under the seal of the confessional, saying--
“Is it not an admirable thing to see a young and handsome Prince forsake
pleasure and repose in order to come so often to hear our matins? Nor
comes he like a Prince seeking honour of men, but quite alone, like a
simple monk, and hides himself in one of our chapels. Truly such piety
so shames both the monks and me, that we do not deem ourselves worthy of
being called men of religion in comparison with him.”
When the sister heard these words she was at a loss what to think. She
knew that, although her brother was worldly enough, he had a tender
conscience, as well as great faith and love towards God; but she had
never suspected him of a leaning towards any superstitions or rites save
such as a good Christian should observe. (6) She therefore went to him
and told him the good opinion that the monks had of him, whereat he
could not hold from laughing, and in such a manner that she, knowing
him as she did her own heart, perceived that there was something hidden
beneath his devotion; whereupon she rested not until she had made him
tell her the truth.
6 In Boaistuau’s edition this sentence ends, “But she had
never suspected him of going to church at such an hour as
this.”--L.
And she has made me here set it down in writing, for the purpose,
ladies, of showing you that there is no lawyer so crafty and no monk
so shrewd, but love, in case of need, gives the power of tricking them
both, to those whose sole experience is in truly loving. And since love
can thus deceive the deceivers, well may we, who are simple and ignorant
folk, stand in awe of him.
“Although,” said Geburon, “I can pretty well guess who the young Prince
is, I must say that in this matter he was worthy of praise. We meet with
few great lords who reck aught of a woman’s honour or a public scandal,
if only they have their pleasure; nay, they are often well pleased to
have men believe something that is even worse than the truth.”
“Truly,” said Oisille, “I could wish that all young lords would follow
his example, for the scandal is often worse than the sin.”
“Of course,” said Nomerfide, “the prayers he offered up at the monastery
through which he passed were sincere.”
“That is not a matter for you to judge,” said Parlamente, “for perhaps
his repentance on his return was great enough to procure him the pardon
of his sin.”
“‘Tis a hard matter,” said Hircan, “to repent of an offence so pleasing.
For my own part I have many a time confessed such a one, but seldom have
I repented of it.”
“It would be better,” said Oisille, “not to confess at all, if one do
not sincerely repent.”
“Well, madam,” said Hircan, “sin sorely displeases me, and I am grieved
to offend God, but, for all that, such sin is ever a pleasure to me.”
“You and those like you,” said Parlamente, “would fain have neither God
nor law other than your own desires might set up.”
“I will own to you,” said Hircan, “that I would gladly have God take as
deep a pleasure in my pleasures as I do myself, for I should then often
give Him occasion to rejoice.”
“However, you cannot set up a new God,” said Geburon, “and so we must
e’en obey the one we have. Let us therefore leave such disputes to
theologians, and allow Longarine to give some one her vote.”
“I give it,” she said, “to Saffredent, but I will beg him to tell us the
finest tale he can think of, and not to be so intent on speaking evil
of women as to hide the truth when there is something good of them to
relate.”
“In sooth,” said Saffredent, “I consent, for I have here in hand the
story of a wanton woman and a discreet one, and you shall take example
by her who pleases you best. You will see that just as love leads wicked
people to do wicked things, so does it lead a virtuous heart to do
things that are worthy of praise; for love in itself is good, although
the evil that is in those that are subject to it often makes it take a
new title, such as wanton, light, cruel or vile. However, you will see
from the tale that I am now about to relate that love does not change
the heart, but discovers it to be what it really is, wanton in the
wanton and discreet in the discreet.”
[Illustration: 142.jpg Tailpiece]
[Illustration: 143a.jpg The Lord of Avannes paying His Court in Disguise]
[The Lord of Avannes paying His Court in Disguise]
[Illustration: 143.jpg Page Image]
_TALE XXVI_.
_By the counsel and sisterly affection of a virtuous lady,
the Lord of Avannes was drawn from the wanton love that he
entertained for a gentlewoman dwelling at Pampeluna_.
In the days of King Louis the Twelfth there lived a young lord called
Monsieur d’Avannes, (1) son of the Lord of Albret [and] brother to
King John of Navarre, with whom this aforesaid Lord of Avannes commonly
abode.
1 This is Gabriel d’Albret, Lord of Avesnes and Lesparre,
fourth son of Alan the Great, Sire d’Albret, and brother of
John d’Albret, King of Navarre, respecting whom see _post_,
note 4 to Tale XXX. Queen Margaret is in error in dating
this story from the reign of Louis XII. The incidents she
relates must have occurred between 1485 and 1490, under the
reign of Charles VIII., by whom Gabriel d’Albret, on
reaching manhood, was successively appointed counsellor and
chamberlain, Seneschal of Guyenne and Viceroy of Naples.
Under Louis XII. he took a prominent part in the Italian
campaigns of 1500-1503, in which latter year he is known to
have made his will, bequeathing all he possessed to his
brother, Cardinal d’Albret. He died a bachelor in 1504.--See
Anselme’s _Histoire Généalogique_, vol. vi. p. 214.--L. and
Ed.
Now this young lord, who was fifteen years of age, was so handsome and
so fully endowed with every excellent grace that he seemed to have been
made solely to be loved and admired, as he was indeed by all who saw
him, and above all by a lady who dwelt in the town of Pampeluna (2) in
Navarre. She was married to a very rich man, with whom she lived in all
virtue, inasmuch that, although her husband was nearly fifty years old
and she was only three and twenty, she dressed so plainly that she had
more the appearance of a widow than of a married woman. Moreover, she
was never known to go to weddings or feasts unless accompanied by her
husband, whose worth and virtue she prized so highly that she set them
before all the comeliness of other men. And her husband, finding her so
discreet, trusted her and gave all the affairs of his household into her
hands.
2 Pampeluna or Pamplona, the capital of Navarre, wrested
from King John in 1512 by the troops of Ferdinand the
Catholic.--Ed.
One day this rich man was invited with his wife to a wedding among their
kinsfolk; and among those who were present to do honour to the bridal
was the young Lord of Avannes, who was exceedingly fond of dancing, as
was natural in one who surpassed therein all others of his time. When
dinner was over and the dances were begun, the rich man begged the Lord
of Avannes to do his part, whereupon the said lord asked him with whom
he would have him dance.
“My lord,” replied the gentleman, “I can present to you no lady fairer
and more completely at my disposal than my wife, and I therefore beg you
to honour me so far as to lead her out.”
This the young Prince did; and he was still so young that he took far
greater pleasure in frisking and dancing than in observing the beauty
of the ladies. But his partner, on the contrary, gave more heed to his
grace and beauty than to the dance, though in her prudence she took good
care not to let this appear.
The supper hour being come, the Lord of Avannes bade the company
farewell, and departed to the castle, (3) whither the rich man
accompanied him on his mule. And as they were going, the rich man said
to him--
“My lord, you have this day done so much honour to my kinsfolk and to
me, that I should indeed be ungrateful if I did not place myself with
all that belongs to me at your service. I know, sir, that lords like
yourself, who have stern and miserly fathers, are often in greater need
of money than we, who, with small establishments and careful husbandry,
seek only to save up wealth. Now, albeit God has given me a wife after
my own heart, it has not pleased Him to give me all my Paradise in this
world, for He has withheld from me the joy that fathers derive from
having children. I know, my lord, that it is not for me to adopt you as
a son, but if you will accept me for your servant and make known to me
your little affairs, I will not fail to assist you in your need so far
as a hundred thousand crowns may go.”
3 Evidently the castle of Pampeluna, where Gabriel d’Albret
resided with his brother the King.--Ed.
The Lord of Avannes was in great joy at this offer, for he had just such
a father as the other had described; accordingly he thanked him, and
called him his adopted father.
From that hour the rich man evinced so much love towards the Lord of
Avannes, that morning and evening he failed not to inquire whether he
had need of anything, nor did he conceal this devotion from his wife,
who loved him for it twice as much as before. Thenceforward the Lord of
Avannes had no lack of anything that he desired. He often visited the
rich man, and ate and drank with him; and when he found the husband
abroad, the wife gave him all that he required, and further spoke to
him so sagely, exhorting him to live discreetly and virtuously, that he
reverenced and loved her above all other women.
Having God and honour before her eyes, she remained content with thus
seeing him and speaking to him, for these are sufficient for virtuous
and honourable love; and she never gave any token whereby he might have
imagined that she felt aught but a sisterly and Christian affection
towards him.
While this secret love continued, the Lord of Avannes, who, by the
assistance that I have spoken of, was always well and splendidly
apparelled, came to the age of seventeen years, and began to frequent
the company of ladies more than had been his wont. And although he would
fain have loved this virtuous lady rather than any other, yet his fear
of losing her friendship should she hear any such discourse from him,
led him to remain silent and to divert himself elsewhere.
He therefore addressed himself to a gentlewoman of the neighbourhood of
Pampeluna, who had a house in the town, and was married to a young man
whose chief delight was in horses, hawks and hounds. For her sake, he
began to set on foot a thousand diversions, such as tourneys, races,
wrestlings, masquerades, banquets, and other pastimes, at all of which
this young lady was present. But as her husband was very humorsome, and
her parents, knowing her to be both fair and frolicsome, were jealous of
her honour, they kept such strict watch over her that my Lord of Avannes
could obtain nothing from her save a word or two at the dance, although,
from the little that had passed between them, he well knew that time and
place alone were wanting to crown their loves.
He therefore went to his good father, the rich man, and told him that he
deeply desired to make a pilgrimage to our Lady of Montferrat, (4) for
which reason he begged him to house his followers, seeing that he wished
to go alone.
4 The famous monastery of Montserrate, at eight leagues
from Barcelona, where is preserved the ebony statue of the
Virgin carrying the Infant Jesus, which is traditionally
said to have been carved by St. Luke, and to have been
brought to Spain by St. Peter.--See _Libro de la historia y
milagros hechos à invocation de Nuestra Seilora de
Montserrate_, Barcelona, 1556, 8vo.--Ed.
To this the rich man agreed; but his wife, in whose heart was that great
soothsayer, Love, forthwith suspected the true nature of the journey,
and could not refrain from saying--
“My lord, my lord, the Lady you adore is not without the walls of
this town, so I pray that you will have in all matters a care for your
health.”
At this he, who both feared and loved her, blushed so deeply that,
without speaking a word, he confessed the truth; and so he went away.
Having bought a couple of handsome Spanish horses, he dressed himself
as a groom, and disguised his face in such a manner that none could know
him. The gentleman who was husband to the wanton lady, and who loved
horses more than aught beside, saw the two that the Lord of Avannes
was leading, and forthwith offered to buy them. When he had done so, he
looked at the groom, who was managing the horses excellently well, and
asked whether he would enter his service. The Lord of Avannes replied
that he would; saying that he was but a poor groom, who knew no trade
except the caring of horses, but in this he could do so well that he
would assuredly give satisfaction. At this the gentleman was pleased,
and having given him the charge of all his horses, entered his house,
and told his wife that he was leaving for the castle, and confided his
horses and groom to her keeping.
The lady, as much to please her husband as for her own diversion, went
to see the horses, and looked at the new groom, who seemed to her to be
well favoured, though she did not at all recognise him. Seeing that
he was not recognised, he came up to do her reverence in the Spanish
fashion and kissed her hand, and, in doing so, pressed it so closely
that she at once knew him, for he had often done the same at the dance.
From that moment, the lady thought of nothing but how she might speak
to him in private; and contrived to do so that very evening, for, being
invited to a banquet, to which her husband wished to take her, she
pretended that she was ill and unable to go.
The husband, being unwilling to disappoint his friends, thereupon said
to her--
“Since you will not come, my love, I pray you take good care of my
horses and hounds, so that they may want for nothing.”
The lady deemed this charge a very agreeable one, but, without showing
it, she replied that since he had nothing better for her to do, she
would show him even in these trifling matters how much she desired to
please him.
And scarcely was her husband outside the door than she went down to the
stable, where she found that something was amiss, and to set it right
gave so many orders to the serving-men on this side and the other, that
at last she was left alone with the chief groom, when, fearing that some
one might come upon them, she said to him--
“Go into the garden, and wait for me in a summer house that stands at
the end of the alley.”
This he did, and with such speed that he stayed not even to thank her.
When she had set the whole stable in order, she went to see the dogs,
and was so careful to have them properly treated, that from mistress she
seemed to have become a serving-woman. Afterwards she withdrew to her
own apartment, where she lay down weariedly upon the bed, saying that
she wished to rest. All her women left her excepting one whom she
trusted, and to whom she said--
“Go into the garden, and bring here the man whom you will find at the
end of the alley.”
The maid went and found the groom, whom she forthwith brought to the
lady, and the latter then sent her outside to watch for her husband’s
return. When the Lord of Avannes found himself alone with the lady, he
doffed his groom’s dress, took off his false nose and beard, and, not
like a timorous groom, but like the handsome lord he was, boldly got
into bed with her without so much as asking her leave; and he was
received as the handsomest youth of his time deserved to be by the
handsomest and gayest lady in the land, and remained with her until her
husband returned. Then he again took his mask and left the place which
his craft and artifice had usurped.
On entering the courtyard the gentleman heard of the diligence that his
wife had shown in obeying him, and he thanked her heartily for it.
“Sweetheart,” said the lady, “I did but my duty. Tis true that if we did
not keep watch upon these rogues of servants you would not have a dog
without the mange or a horse in good condition; but, now that I know
their slothfulness and your wishes, you shall be better served than ever
you were before.”
The gentleman, who thought that he had chosen the best groom in the
world, asked her what she thought of him.
“I will own, sir,” she replied, “that he does his work as well as
any you could have chosen, but he needs to be urged on, for he is the
sleepiest knave I ever saw.”
So the lord and his lady lived together more lovingly than before, and
he lost all the suspicion and jealousy with which he had regarded her,
seeing that she was now as careful of her house hold as she had formerly
been devoted to banquets, dances and assemblies. Whereas, also, she had
formerly been wont to spend four hours in attiring herself, she was now
often content to wear nothing but a dressing-gown over her chemise; and
for this she was praised by her husband and by every one else, for they
did not understand that a stronger devil had entered her and thrust out
a weaker one.
Thus did this young lady, under the guise of a virtuous woman, like
the hypocrite she was, live in such wantonness that reason, conscience,
order and moderation found no place within her. The youth and tender
constitution of the Lord of Avannes could not long endure this, and he
began to grow so pale and lean that even without his mask he might well
have passed unrecognised; yet the mad love that he had for this woman so
blunted his understanding that he imagined he had strength to accomplish
feats that even Hercules had tried in vain. However, being at last
constrained by sickness and advised thereto by his lady, who was not so
fond of him sick as sound, he asked his master’s leave to return home,
and this his master gave him with much regret, making him promise to
come back to service when he was well again.
In this wise did the Lord of Avannes go away, and all on foot, for he
had only the length of a street to travel. On arriving at the house
of his good father, the rich man, he there found only his wife, whose
honourable love for him had been in no whit lessened by his journey.
But when she saw him so colourless and thin, she could not refrain from
saying to him--
“I do not know, my lord, how your conscience may be, but your body has
certainly not been bettered by your pilgrimage. I fear me that your
journeyings by night have done you more harm than your journeyings by
day, for had you gone to Jerusalem on foot you would have come back more
sunburnt, indeed, but not so thin and weak. Pay good heed to this one,
and worship no longer such images as those, which, instead of reviving
the dead, cause the living to die. I would say more, but if your body
has sinned it has been well punished, and I feel too much pity for you
to add any further distress.”
When my Lord of Avannes heard these words, he was as sorry as he was
ashamed.
“Madam,” he replied, “I have heard that repentance follows upon sin, and
now I have proved it to my cost. But I pray you pardon my youth, which
could not have been punished save by the evil in which it would not
believe.”
Thereupon changing her discourse, the lady made him lie down in a
handsome bed, where he remained for a fortnight, taking nothing but
restoratives; and the lady and her husband constantly kept him company,
so that he always had one or the other beside him. And although he had
acted foolishly, as you have heard, contrary to the desire and counsel
of the virtuous lady, she, nevertheless, lost nought of the virtuous
love that she felt towards him, for she still hoped that, after spending
his early youth in follies, he would throw them off and bring himself to
love virtuously, and so be all her own.
During the fortnight that he was in her house, she held to him such
excellent discourse, all tending to the love of virtue, that he began to
loathe the folly that he had committed. Observing, moreover, the lady’s
beauty, which surpassed that of the wanton one, and becoming more and
more aware of the graces and virtues that were in her, he one day, when
it was rather dark, could not longer hold from speaking, but, putting
away all fear, said to her--
“I see no better means, madam, for becoming a virtuous man such as you
urge me and desire me to be, than by being heart and soul in love with
virtue. I therefore pray you, madam, to tell me whether you will give me
in this matter all the assistance and favour that you can.”