The following tale, recorded in the Historical Memoirs of Champagne, by
Bougier, has been a favourite narrative with the old romance writers;
and the principal incident, however objectionable, has been displayed in
several modern poems.
Howell, in his "Familiar Letters," in one addressed to Ben Jonson,
recommends it to him as a subject "which peradventure you may make use
of in your way;" and concludes by saying, "in my opinion, which vails to
yours, this is choice and rich stuff for you to put upon your loom, and
make a curious web of."
The Lord de Coucy, vassal to the Count de Champagne, was one of the most
accomplished youths of his time. He loved, with an excess of passion,
the lady of the Lord du Fayel, who felt a reciprocal affection. With the
most poignant grief this lady heard from her lover, that he had resolved
to accompany the king and the Count de Champagne to the wars of the Holy
Land; but she would not oppose his wishes, because she hoped that his
absence might dissipate the jealousy of her husband. The time of
departure having come, these two lovers parted with sorrows of the most
lively tenderness. The lady, in quitting her lover, presented him with
some rings, some diamonds, and with a string that she had woven herself
of his own hair, intermixed with silk and buttons of large pearls, to
serve him, according to the fashion of those days, to tie a magnificent
hood which covered his helmet. This he gratefully accepted.
In Palestine, at the siege of Acre, in 1191, in gloriously ascending the
ramparts, he received a wound, which was declared mortal. He employed
the few moments he had to live in writing to the Lady du Fayel; and he
poured forth the fervour of his soul. He ordered his squire to embalm
his heart after his death, and to convey it to his beloved mistress,
with the presents he had received from her hands in quitting her.
The squire, faithful to the dying injunction of his master, returned to
France, to present the heart and the gifts to the lady of Du Fayel. But
when he approached the castle of this lady, he concealed himself in the
neighbouring wood, watching some favourable moment to complete his
promise. He had the misfortune to be observed by the husband of this
lady, who recognised him, and who immediately suspected he came in
search of his wife with some message from his master. He threatened to
deprive him of his life if he did not divulge the occasion of his
return. The squire assured him that his master was dead; but Du Fayel
not believing it, drew his sword on him. This man, frightened at the
peril in which he found himself, confessed everything; and put into his
hands the heart and letter of his master. Du Fayel was maddened by the
fellest passions, and he took a wild and horrid revenge. He ordered his
cook to mince the heart; and having mixed it with meat, he caused a
favourite ragout, which he knew pleased the taste of his wife, to be
made, and had it served to her. The lady ate heartily of the dish. After
the repast, Du Fayel inquired of his wife if she had found the ragout
according to her taste: she answered him that she had found it
excellent. "It is for this reason that I caused it to be served to you,
for it is a kind of meat which you very much liked. You have, Madame,"
the savage Du Fayel continued, "eaten the heart of the Lord de Coucy."
But this the lady would not believe, till he showed her the letter of
her lover, with the string of his hair, and the diamonds she had given
him. Shuddering in the anguish of her sensations, and urged by the
utmost despair, she told him--"It is true that I loved that heart,
because it merited to be loved: for never could it find its superior;
and since I have eaten of so noble a meat, and that my stomach is the
tomb of so precious a heart, I will take care that nothing of inferior
worth shall ever be mixed with it." Grief and passion choked her
utterance. She retired to her chamber: she closed the door for ever; and
refusing to accept of consolation or food, the amiable victim expired on
the fourth day.