The Tales Of The Heptameron, Vol. IV. (of V.)

by King of Navarre consort of Henry II Queen Marguerite

  _TALE XLII_.

  _A young Prince set his affections upon a young girl, and although she was of low and poor parentage, he could not, in spite of all his efforts, obtain from her what he had hoped to have. Accordingly, recognising her virtue and honour, the Prince desisted from his attempt, esteemed her highly all his life, and, marrying her to a follower of his own, bestowed great benefits upon her_.

  In one of the best towns in Touraine there dwelt a lord of illustriousfamily, who had there been brought up from early youth. Of theperfections, graces, beauty and great virtues of this young Prince (1) Iwill say nothing, except that in his time his equal could not be found.Being fifteen years of age, he had more pleasure in hunting and hawkingthan in looking at beautiful ladies.

  1 This is undoubtedly Francis I., then Count of Angouleme. M. de Lincy thinks that the scene of the story must be Amboise, where Louise of Savoy went to live with her children in 1499, and remained for several years; Louis XII. having placed the chateau there at her disposal. Francis, however, left Amboise to join the Court at Blois in August 1508, when less than fourteen years old (see Memoir of Queen Margaret, vol. i. p. xxiii.), and in the tale, above, he is said to have been fifteen at the time of the incidents narrated. These, then, would have occurred in the autumn of 1509. It will be seen that in the tale the young Prince's sister (Margaret) is described as residing at the castle. Now Margaret married Charles of Alencon at Blois, in October 1509, and forthwith removed to Alencon. Possibly Francis, who was very precocious, especially in matters of gallantry, engaged in the love affair narrated by his sister at a yet earlier age than she asserts, in which case the town she refers to would undoubtedly be Amboise.--Ed.

  One day in a church he beheld a young maiden who formerly, during herchildhood, had been bred in the castle where he dwelt; but after hermother's death, her father having married again, she had withdrawn intoPoitou with her brother. This maiden, who was called Frances, had abastard sister whom her father dearly loved, and whom he had marriedto the young Prince's butler, who maintained her in as excellent acondition as that of any of her family. It came to pass that the fatherdied and left to Frances as her portion what he possessed near the townaforementioned, and thither she returned after his death; nevertheless,being unmarried and only sixteen years of age, she would not live alonein her house, but went to lodge with her sister, the butler's wife.

  On perceiving this girl, who was passably beautiful for a lightbrunette, and possessed a grace beyond her condition (for, indeed, sheseemed rather a lady or princess than a towns-woman), the young Princegazed at her for a long time, and he, who never yet had loved, nowfelt in his heart an unwonted delight. On returning to his apartmenthe inquired concerning the maiden he had seen in the church, and thenrecollected that formerly in her youth she had come to the castle tohave dolls' play with his sister. He reminded the latter of her; and hissister sent for her, received her kindly, and begged her to come oftento see her. This she did whenever there was a feast or entertainment;and the young Prince was so pleased to see her that he had in mind tobe deeply in love with her, and, knowing her to be of low and poorparentage, hoped easily to obtain what he sought.

  Having no means of speaking with her, he sent a gentleman of his chamberto her to conduct his intrigue. But she, being discreet and fearing God,told the gentleman that she did not believe so handsome and honourable aPrince as his master could have pleasure in looking upon one so ugly asherself, since he had so many beautiful ladies in the castle where helived, that he had no need to search through the town; and she addedthat in her opinion the gentleman was speaking of his own authority, andwithout his master's command.

  When the young Prince received this reply, love, which becomes themore eager the more it meets with resistance, caused him to pursue hisenterprise more hotly than before, and to write her a letter in which hebegged that she would believe all the gentleman had told her.

  Being well able to read and write, she read the letter through, but, inspite of all the gentleman's entreaties, she would never send an answerto it. It was not for one of such low degree, she said, to write to sonoble a Prince, and she begged the gentleman not to deem her foolishenough to believe that the Prince had so much love for her. Moreover, hewas deceived if he thought that he could have her at his will by reasonof her humble condition; for her heart was as virtuous as that of thegreatest Princess in Christendom, and she looked upon all the treasuresin the world as naught in comparison with honour and a good conscience.She therefore entreated him not to try to hinder her from keeping thesetreasures safe her whole life long, for she would never change her mindeven were she threatened with death.

  The young Prince did not find this reply to his liking, nevertheless heloved her dearly for it, and never failed to have his chair set in thechurch to which she went to hear mass, where, during the service, hewould ever turn his eyes upon the same image. When she perceived this,she changed her place and went to another chapel--not indeed to flee thesight of him, for she would not have been a reasonable being had she notfound pleasure in beholding him--but because she dreaded to be seen byhim. She did not deem herself worthy to be loved by him in honour ormarriage, and, on the other hand, she would not be loved wantonly andfor pleasure. When she found that, in whatever part of the church sheplaced herself, the Prince heard mass close by, she would no longergo to the same church, but repaired every day to the remotest that shecould find. And when there was feasting at the castle, although thePrince's sister often sent for her, she would no longer go thither, butexcused herself on the plea of sickness.

  Finding that he could not have speech with her, the Prince hadrecourse to his butler, and promised him great rewards if he would lendassistance in the matter. This the butler, for the sake both of pleasinghis master and of the gain that he expected, readily promised to do.Every day he would relate to the Prince what she said or did, tellinghim that she was especially careful to shun all opportunities of seeinghim. However, the great desire that the Prince had of speaking with herat his ease, prompted him to devise the following plan.

  One day he took his chargers, which he was beginning to manageexcellently well, to a large open space in the town opposite to hisbutler's house, in which Frances lived. After making many courses andleaps which she could easily see, he let himself fall from his horseinto some deep mire, but so softly that he was not hurt. Nevertheless heuttered passably loud groans, and asked whether there was a house nearin which he might change his dress. Every one offered his own, but onsome one saying that the butler's was the nearest and worthiest, it waschosen before all the others.

  He found the room well furnished, and, as all his garments were soiledwith the mud, he stripped himself to his shirt, and got into a bed.Then, when he saw that, except the gentleman aforementioned, every onewas gone to bring him some clothes, he called his host and hostess andasked them where Frances was. They had much ado to find her, for, assoon as she had seen the young Prince coming in, she had gone to hideherself in the most retired nook in the house. Nevertheless her sisterfound her, and begged her not to be afraid to speak to so worshipful andvirtuous a Prince.

  "What! sister," said Frances, "do you, whom I look upon as my mother,advise me to go and speak with a young lord, of whose purpose, as youare aware, I cannot be ignorant?"

  However, her sister addressed so many remonstrances to her, and promisedso often not to leave her alone, that she at last went with her, showingso pale and sorry a face that she seemed more likely to beget compassionthan desire.

  When the young Prince saw her by his bedside, he took hold of her hand,which was cold and trembling, and said to her--

  "Frances, do you deem me so wicked a man, and so strange and cruel, thatI eat the women I look upon? Why have you come to be so afraid of me whoseek only your honour and profit? You know that I have sought to holdconverse with you in all possible places, but all in vain; and, togriev
e me still more, you have even shunned the places where I hadbeen wont to see you at mass, so that my eyes might bring me as littlegladness as my tongue. But all this has availed you naught, for I havenever rested until I came hither in the manner you have seen, and I haverisked my neck, in allowing myself to fall, in order that I might havethe joy of speaking to you without hindrance. I therefore entreat you,Frances, that the opportunity gained by so much toil may not be thrownaway, and that my deep love may avail to win your own."

  After waiting a long time for her reply, and seeing that her eyes werefull of tears and fixed upon the ground, he drew her to him as closelyas he could, and tried to embrace and kiss her. But she said to him--

  "No, my lord, no; what you desire cannot be, for although I am but aworm of the earth compared with you, I hold my honour dear, and wouldrather die than lessen it for any pleasure that the world can give. Andthe dread I have lest those who have seen you come in should suspect thetruth, makes me tremble and be afraid as you see. And, since it pleasesyou to do me the honour of speaking to me, you will also forgive me ifI answer you according as my honour requires. I am not so foolish, mylord, nor so blind as not to perceive and recognise the comeliness andgrace that God has given you, or not to consider that she who shallpossess the person and love of such a Prince must be the happiest womanalive. But what does all this avail me, since it is not for me or anywoman of my condition, and since even to long for it would, in me,be utter folly? What reason can I believe to be yours in addressingyourself to me except that the ladies in your house, whom you must loveif you have any love for beauty and grace, are so virtuous that you darenot seek or expect from them what the lowliness of my condition has ledyou to expect from me? I am sure that if you obtained your desire fromone such as I, it would afford matter for entertainment to your mistressduring two good hours, to hear you tell her of your conquests over theweak. But, my lord, be pleased to bear in mind that I shall never be oftheir number. I have been brought up in your house, where I have learnedwhat it is to love; my father and my mother were your faithful servants.Since, therefore, God has not made me a Princess to marry you, nor ofsufficient rank to be your mistress and love, you will be pleased not totry to number me with the unfortunate, seeing that I deem and would haveyou to be one of the happiest Princes in Christendom. If for diversionyou would have women of my condition, you will find in this town manywho are beyond compare more beautiful than I, and who will spare you thepains of so many entreaties. Content yourself, then, with those to whomyou will give pleasure by the purchase of their honour, and cease totrouble one who loves you more than she loves herself. For, indeed, ifeither your life or mine were required of God this day, I should esteemmyself fortunate in offering mine to save yours. It is no lack of lovethat makes me shun your presence, but rather too great a love for yourconscience and mine; for I hold my honour dearer than life. I willcontinue, my lord, if it please you, in your good grace, and will all mylife pray God for your health and prosperity. And truly the honour thatyou have done me will lend me consideration among those of my own rank,for, after seeing you, where is the man of my own condition upon whomI could deign to look? So my heart will continue free save for the dutywhich shall always be mine of praying to God on your behalf. But noother service can you ever have of me."

  On hearing this virtuous reply, contrary though it was to his desires,the young Prince could not but esteem her as she deserved. He did allthat he could to persuade her that he would never love another woman,but she was too prudent to suffer so unreasonable a thought to enter hermind. While they were talking together, word was often brought that hisclothes were come from the castle, but such was his present pleasure andcomfort, that he caused answer to be given that he was asleep. And thiscontinued until the hour for supper was come, when he durst not failto appear before his mother, who was one of the discreetest ladiesimaginable.

  Accordingly, the young man left his butler's house thinking more highlythan ever of the maiden's virtue. He often spoke of her to the gentlemanthat slept in his room, and the latter, who deemed money to be morepowerful than love, advised his master to offer her a considerable sumif she would yield to his wishes. The young Prince, whose mother was histreasurer, had but little money for his pocket, but, borrowing as muchas he was able, he made up the sum of five hundred crowns, which he sentby the gentleman to the girl, begging her to change her mind.

  But, when she saw the gift, she said to the gentleman--

  "I pray you tell my lord that I have a good and virtuous heart, and thatif it were meet to obey his commands his comeliness and grace wouldere now have vanquished me; but, since these have no power against myhonour, all the money in the world can have none. Take it, therefore,back to him again, for I would rather enjoy virtuous poverty than allthe wealth it were possible to desire."

  On beholding so much stubbornness, the gentleman thought that violencemust needs be used to win her, and threatened her with his master'sauthority and power. But she laughed, and said--

  "Make those fear him who have no knowledge of him. For my part, I knowhim to be so discreet and virtuous that such discourse cannot come fromhim, and I feel sure that he will disown it when you repeat it to him.But even though he were what you say, there is neither torment nor deaththat would make me change my mind; for, as I have told you, since lovehas not turned my heart, no imaginable evil or good can divert me onestep from the path that I have chosen."

  The gentleman, who had promised his master to win her, brought him backthis reply in wondrous anger, and counselled him to persevere in everypossible way, telling him that it was not to his honour to be unable towin a woman of her sort.

  The young Prince was unwilling to employ any means but such as honourenjoins, and was also afraid that if the affair made any noise, and socame to his mother's ears, she would be greatly angered with him. Hetherefore durst make no attempt, until at last the gentleman proposed tohim so simple a plan that he could already fancy her to be in his power.In order to carry it into execution he spoke to the butler; and he,being anxious to serve his master in any way that might be, begged hiswife and sister-in-law one day to go and visit their vintages at a househe had near the forest. And this they promised to do.

  When the day was come, he informed the Prince, who resolved to gothither alone with the gentleman, and caused his mule to be secretlyheld in readiness, that they might set out at the proper time. But Godwilled it that his mother should that day be garnishing a most beautifulcabinet, (2) and needed all her children with her to help her, and thusthe young Prince lingered there until the hour was past.

  There was, however, no hindrance to the departure of the butler, who hadbrought his sister-in-law to his house, riding behind him, (3) andhad made his wife feign sickness, so that when they were already onhorseback she had come and said that she could not go with them. Butnow, seeing that the hour at which the Prince should have come was goneby, he said to his sister-in-law--

  "I think we may now return to the town."

  2 The French word here is _cabinet_, which some English translators have rendered as "little room." We think, however, with the Bibliophile Jacob, that the allusion is to an article of furniture, such as we ourselves still call a cabinet in England, though in France the word has virtually lost that sense.--Ed.

  3 The MSS. do not say whether she rode on a pillion, or simply bestrode the horse. This last fashion was still common at this period and long afterwards, even among women of high degree. See, for instance, several of the enamels in the Louvre, notably one which depicts Henry II. of France with Diana of Poitiers riding behind him. The practice is also referred to in a sixteenth century ballad. "La Superfluity des habitz des Dames" (_Anciennes Poesies Francaises_. Bib. Elzev. 1858, p. 308).--M.

  "What is there to hinder us from doing so?" asked Frances.

  "Why," said the butler, "I was waiting here for my lord, who hadpromised me that he would come."

  When hi
s sister-in-law heard this wickedness, she replied--

  "Do not wait for him, brother, for I know that he will not come to-day."

  The brother-in-law believed her and brought her back again, and when shehad reached home she let him know her extreme anger, telling him that hewas the devil's servant, and did yet more than he was commanded, for shewas sure that the plan had been devised by him and the gentleman and notby the young Prince, whose money he would rather earn by aiding him inhis follies, than by doing the duty of a good servant. However, now thatshe knew his real nature, she would remain no longer in his house,and thereupon indeed she sent for her brother to take her to his owncountry, and immediately left her sister's dwelling.

  Having thus failed in his attempt, the butler went to the castle tolearn what had prevented the arrival of the young Prince, and he hadscarcely come thither when he met the Prince himself sallying forthon his mule, and attended only by the gentleman in whom he put so muchtrust.

  "Well," the Prince asked of him, "is she still there?"

  Thereupon the butler related all that had taken place.

  The young Prince was deeply vexed at having failed in his plan, which helooked upon as the very last that he could devise, but, seeing that itcould not be helped, he sought out Frances so diligently that at lasthe met her in a gathering from which she could not escape. He thenupbraided her very harshly for her cruelty towards him, and for havingleft her brother-in-law, but she made answer that the latter was, inregard to herself, the worst and most dangerous man she had ever known,though he, the Prince, was greatly beholden to him, seeing that hewas served by him not only with body and substance, but with soul andconscience as well.

  When the Prince perceived by this that the case was a hopeless one, heresolved to urge her no more, and esteemed her highly all his life.

  Seeing this maiden's goodness, one of the said Prince's attendantsdesired to marry her, but to this she would not consent without thecommand and license of the young Prince, upon whom she had set all heraffection; and this she caused to be made known to him, and with hisapproval the marriage was concluded. And so she lived all her life ingood repute, and the young Prince bestowed great benefits upon her. (4)

  4 We take this concluding paragraph from MS. 1520; it is deficient in ours.--L.

  "What shall we say to this, ladies? Have we hearts so base as to makeour servants our masters--seeing that this woman was not to be subduedeither by love or torment? Let us, I pray you, take example by herconduct and conquer ourselves, for this is the most meritorious conquestthat we can make."

  "I see but one thing to be regretted," said Oisille, "which is thatthese virtuous actions did not take place in the days of the oldhistorians. Those who gave so much praise to their Lucretia would haveneglected her to set down at length the virtues of this maiden."

  "They are indeed so great," said Hircan, "that, were it not for thesolemn vow that we have taken to speak the truth, I could not believeher to have been what you describe. We have often seen sick personsturn in disgust from good and wholesome meats to eat such as are bad andhurtful, and in the same way this girl may have had some gentleman ofher own estate for whose sake she despised all nobility."

  But to this Parlemente replied that the girl's whole life showed thatshe had never loved any living man save him whom she loved more than hervery life, though not more than her honour.

  "Put that notion out of your head," said Saffredent, "and learn theorigin of the term 'honour' as used among women; for perhaps thosethat speak so much of it are ignorant of how the name was devised. Knowthen that in the earliest times, when there was but little wickednessamong men, love was so frank and strong that it was never concealed, andhe who loved the most perfectly received most praise. But when greed andsinfulness fastened upon heart and honour, they drove out God and love,and in their place set up selfishness, hypocrisy and deceit. Then, whensome ladies found that they fostered in their hearts the virtue of truelove but that the word 'hypocrisy' was hateful among men, they adoptedinstead the word 'honour.' At last, too, even those who could feel nohonourable love said that 'honour' forbade them, and cruelly made this alaw for all, so that now even those who love perfectly use concealment,holding virtue for a vice. But such as have an excellent understandingand a sound judgment never fall into any such error. They know thedifference between darkness and light, and are aware that true honourconsists in manifesting the purity of their hearts, (which shouldlive upon love alone), and not in priding themselves on the vice ofdissimulation."

  "Yet," said Dagoucin, "it is said that the most secret love is the mostworthy of praise."

  "Ay, secret," said Simontault, "from the eyes of those who mightmisjudge it, but open and manifest at least to the two persons whom itconcerns."

  "So I take it," said Dagoucin, "but it would be better to have one ofthe two ignorant of it rather than have it known to a third. I believethat the love of the woman in the story was all the deeper for not beingdeclared."

  "Be that as it may," said Longarine, "virtue should be esteemed, andthe highest virtue is to subdue one's own heart. Considering theopportunities that the maiden had of forgetting conscience and honour,and the virtue she displayed in all these opportunities and temptationsby subduing her heart, will, and even him whom she loved better thanherself, I say that she might well be called a strong woman. And, sinceyou measure virtue by the mortification of self, I say that the lorddeserved higher praise than she, if we remember the greatness of hislove, his opportunities, and his power. Yet he would not offend againstthat rule of true love which renders prince and peasant equal, butemployed only such means as honour allows."

  "There are many," said Hircan, "who would not have acted in the sameway."

  "So much the more is he to be esteemed," said Longarine, "in havingsubdued the common craftiness of men. He who can do evil and yet does itnot is happy indeed."

  "Your words," said Geburon, "remind me of one who was more afraid ofdoing wrong in the eyes of men than of offending against God, her honourand love."

  "Then I pray you tell us the story," said Parlamente, "for I give you myvote."

  "There are some persons," said Geburon, "who have no God, or, if theybelieve in one, think Him so far away that He can neither see nor knowthe wicked acts that they commit; or, if He does, imagine that He paysno heed to things here below, and is too careless to punish them. Ofthis opinion was a lady, whose name I will alter for the sake of herfamily, and whom I will call Jambicque.( 5) She used often to say that awoman who had only God to deal with was very fortunate, if for the restshe was able to maintain her honour among men. But you will see, ladies,that her prudence and her hypocrisy did not prevent her secret frombeing discovered, as will appear from her story, wherein the truth shallbe set forth in full, except that the names of persons and places willbe changed."

  5 Some of the MSS. give the name as Camele or Camille, which is also that adopted by Boaistuau.--L.

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