4 In Boaistuau’s edition of theHeptameronthe final partof the above sentence is given as follows: “And those womenthat have had experience of it know this, and also how longsuch fancies last.” An extract from Brantôme in connectionwith the story will be found in the Appendix to this volume,D.
“So, ladies, if you are wise, you will beware of us even as the stag, had he understanding, would beware of the hunter; for our glory, happiness, and delight is to see you captured in order to rob you of that which is more precious to you than life.”
“Why, Geburon,” said Hircan, “since when have you turned preacher? I can remember a time when you did not talk after that fashion.”
“It is quite true,” said Geburon, “that I have just spoken contrary to what I have always said my life long; but since my teeth are no longer able to chew venison, I warn the hapless deer to beware of the hunters, in order that I may atone in my old age for all the mischief which I sought to do in my youth.”
“We thank you, Geburon,” said Nomerfide, “for warning us to our profit, but for all that we do not feel very greatly beholden to you. You never spoke in that way to one you truly loved, and this is a proof that you have little love for us, and, moreover, would not have us loved. Nevertheless, we hold ourselves as discreet and as virtuous as the ladies whom you so long pursued in your youth. But old folk are commonly vain enough to think that they have been wiser in their time than those who come after them.”
“Well, Nomerfide,” said Geburon, “will you believe that I have told you the truth when the faithlessness of one of your lovers has made you acquainted with the evil nature of men?”
“It seems to me,” said Oisille to Geburon, “that the gentleman whom you praise so highly for his boldness ought rather to be praised for the ardour of his love. So strong is this passion, that it impels the most cowardly to embark on enterprises about which the bravest would think twice.”
“If, madam,” said Saffredent, “he’had not deemed the Italians to be better at talking than acting, me-thinks he had reason to be afraid.”
“Yes,” said Oisille, “if he had not had in his heart the fire that consumes fear.”
“Since you do not deem the boldness of this gentleman altogether worthy of praise,” said Hircan, “you doubtless know of some one else more deserving of commendation.”
“Nay,” said Oisille, “the gentleman in the story deserves praise, but I do know of one who is more worthy of being admired.”
“I pray you, madam,” said Geburon, “if that be so, take my place and tell us the tale.”
“If,” began Oisille, “a man who showed such boldness against the Milanese to save his own life and his mistress’s honour is to be esteemed so very brave, what shall be said of one who, without any need for it, and from pure and simple valour, performed the deed of which I will now tell you?”
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King Francis, being urged to banish Count William, who was said to have received money to bring about his death, did not suffer it to appear that he had any inkling of the scheme, but played the Count so shrewd a trick that he himself took leave of the King and went into banishment. (1)
To the town of Dijon, in the Duchy of Burgundy, there came a German Count to take service with King Francis. He was named William, (2) and was of the House of Saxony, which is so closely allied with that of Savoy that formerly they were but one. This Count, who was held for as handsome and valiant a gentleman as Germany ever knew, was right well received by the King, who not only took him into his service, but kept him close to himself as a groom of the chamber.
1 The incidents of this story are historical. Francis I. isknown to have sojourned at Dijon in June and July 1521.—L.2 This is William, eldest son of Wolfgang von Furstemberg,chamberlain to Maximilian I., and privy counsellor to Philipof Austria.—B. J. Various particulars concerning him aregiven in the Appendix to this volume, E.
Now the Lord de la Trémoille, (3) Governor of Burgundy, an old knight and a loyal servant to the King, was ever jealous and anxious for his master’s safety, and was wont to have spies at all points to learn what the King’s enemies were doing; and so prudently did he contrive matters, that but few things were hidden from him. Among his informations there came to him one day a letter from a friend telling him that Count William had received a sum of money, with promise of more, for putting the King to death in any such manner as he might find possible. (4)
3 This is Louis II., Sire de la Trémoille, Viscount ofThouars and Prince of Talmont, born in 1460. The son ofLouis I. de la Trémoille and of Margaret d’Amboise, hebecame one of the most remarkable men of his time. Favouredby Anne de Beaujeu, who arranged his marriage with Gabriellede Bourbon, he commanded the royal troops at the battle ofSt. Aubin du Cormier, in Brittany (1488), at which therebellious Duke of Orleans (afterwards Louis XII.) and thePrince of Orange, with a large number of the nobles, theirpartisans, were made prisoners. They were all invited to LaTrémoille’s table after the engagement, and, according toGodefroi’s Latin history of Louis XII., at the close of therepast two Franciscan monks entered the hall, whereupon LaTrémoille rose and said: “Princes, I refer your judgments tothe King, but as for you, Knights, who have broken yourfaith and falsified your knightly oath, you shall pay foryour crime with your heads. If you have any remorse on yourconsciences, here are monks who will shrive you.” The hallresounded with lamentations, but the unhappy nobles werepromptly dragged into the courtyard, and there put to death;both Orleans and Orange being too terror-stricken tointercede for them. When the former came to the throne, heforgave La Trémoille for his conduct in this affair, andshowed him great favour, appointing him Governor of Burgundyin 1501. La Trémoille also became Admiral of Guienne andBrittany, and figured conspicuously in the various Italiancampaigns of the period. He was killed at Pavia in 1525.Jean Bouchet, a contemporary, wrote a curious life of thisremarkable man, entitledPanegyric du Chevalier sansreproche. It will be found in Michaud and Poujoulat’sCollection de Mitnoires,—L. and Ed.4 It has been suggested that the instigator of this plotwas Charles V.‘s famous minister, Cardinal Granvelle.—Ed.
The Lord de la Trémoille failed not to give speedy notice of the affair to the King, and further made it known to the King’s mother, Louise of Savoy, who, forgetting that she and this German were akin, begged the King to banish him forthwith. But the King bade her speak no more of it, saying that it was impossible so upright and honourable a gentleman would undertake so vile a deed.
Some time afterwards a second warning arrived in confirmation of the first, and the Governor, burning with love for his master, sought permission either to banish the Count or else take him in hand in some other fashion; but the King charged him expressly to keep the affair secret, being persuaded that he might discover the truth by some other means.
One day when going a-hunting, the King, as his sole weapon, buckled on the finest sword it were possible to see, and took Count William along with him, desiring that he would follow him close. After hunting the stag for some time, seeing that all his people save the Count were far off, he turned out of all the roads and tracks, till he found himself alone with the Count in the deepest part of the forest, (5) when, drawing his sword, he said:—
“Think you that this sword be handsome and trusty?”
5 This may be either the forest of Argilly or that ofMondragon, both in the vicinity of Dijon.—ED.
The Count took it by the point, and answered that he had never seen one that he liked better.
“You are right,” said the King; “and I think that, if a gentleman had resolved to slay me, he would think twice before he attacked me if he knew the strength of my arm, the stoutness-of my heart, and the excellence of this sword. Yet, for all that, I should count him but a craven scoundrel if, when we were face to face and alone, he durst not execute what he had dared to undertake.”
“Sire,” replied Count William, with astonished countenance, “the wickedness of the undertaking would be very great, but the folly of seeking to execute it would be no less.”
The King laughed, sheathed his sword again, and hearing the hunt hard by, spurred after it with all speed. When he reached his train he spoke to none of what had passed, but he felt convinced that, although Count William was as brave and ready a gentleman as might be, he was not the man to carry out so high an enterprise.
However, Count William, fearing that he had been discovered or was at least suspected, repaired the next morning to Robertet, Secretary for the King’s Finances, (6) and told him that he had considered the privileges and pay offered him to continue in the King’s service, and that they would not suffice to support him for half the year. Unless therefore it pleased the King to give him double, he would be forced to depart; and he accordingly begged the said Robertet to acquaint him as soon as might be with the will of the King. To this the Secretary replied that he could not better advance the business than by going to the King straightway; and he undertook the mission right willingly, for he had seen the warnings that the Governor had received.
6 This is Florimond Robertet, the first of that family ofstatesmen who served the French crown from Charles VIII. toHenri III. It was Charles VIII. who appointed FlorimondTreasurer of France and Secretary of Finances, offices inwhich he displayed great skill and honesty. Louis XII., whoconfirmed him in his functions, habitually consulted him onimportant political affairs. He acquired considerablewealth, and was often called “the great baron,” after thebarony of Alluye, which he possessed in Le Perche. One ofthe curiosities of Blois is the Hôtel d’Alluye, a house ofsemi-Moorish style, erected by Robertet at the close of thefifteenth century. Another of his residences was the châteauof Bury, near Blois, where he set up Michael Angelo’s famousbronze statue of David, presented to him by the city ofFlorence, and the fate of which has furnished material forso much speculation. Under Francis I. Robertet enjoyed thesame credit as during the two previous reigns. Fleurangesdeclares that no one else was so intimate with the King, andcommends him as being the most experienced and competentstatesman of the times. According to theJournal d’unBourgeois de Paris, Robertet died “at the Palais (deJustice) in Paris, of which he was concierge,” on November29, 1527. Francis repeatedly visited him during his illness,and, on his death, ordered that his remains should lie instate, and be interred with great pomp and ceremony. ClementMarot’s works contain a poem, four hundred lines in length,celebrating Robertet’s virtues and talents.—L., B. J., andEd.
As soon, therefore, as the King was awake he failed not to lay the matter before him in the presence of the Lord de la Trémoille and the Admiral de Bonnivet, who were ignorant of the trick that the King had played the Count the day before.
Then the King laughed, and said to them—“You desired to banish Count William, and you see he is banishing himself. Wherefore, tell him that if he be not content with the establishment which he accepted on entering my service, and which many men of good families have deemed themselves fortunate to have, he must e’en seek a better fortune elsewhere. For my part, I will in no wise hinder him, but shall be well pleased if he can find some condition wherein to live according to his deserts.”
Robertet was as prompt to bear this answer to the Count as he had been to prefer his request to the King. The Count replied that with the King’s permission he was resolved to depart, and, like one whom fear urges to flight, he did not tarry even four and twenty hours; but, just as the King was sitting down to table, came to take leave of him, feigning much sorrow that his need should force him from the Royal presence.
He also went to take leave of the King’s mother, who parted from him no less joyfully than she had formerly received him as a kinsman and friend. And thus he returned to his own country; and the King, seeing his mother and courtiers in amazement at his sudden departure, told them of the fright he had given him, saying that, even if the Count were innocent of that which was laid against him, his fear had been sufficiently great to constrain him to leave a master whose temper he had not yet come to know.
“For my part, ladies, I can see no reason why the King should have been moved to risk himself thus against so famous a captain, except that, forsaking the company and places where Kings find no inferiors ready to give them battle, he desired to place himself on an equal footing with one whom he suspected to be his enemy; and this that he might have the satisfaction of testing the stoutness and valour of his own heart.”
“Without a doubt,” said Parlamente, “he was in the right; for all the praise of man cannot so well satisfy a noble heart as its own particular knowledge and experience of the virtues that God has placed in it.”
“The ancients,” said Geburon, “long ago showed us that to reach the Temple of Fame it was necessary to pass through the Temple of Virtue, and I, who am acquainted with the two persons in your tale, know right well that the King is indeed one of the most valiant men in his kingdom.”
“By my word,” said Hircan, “at the time when Count William came to France, I should have feared his [the King’s] sword more than those of the four most accomplished Italian gentlemen at Court.”
“We well know,” said Ennasuite, “that he is too famous for our praises to equal his merit, and that the day would be spent before we each could say all the good we think of him. And so, madam, I pray you, give your vote to one who will tell us some further good of men, if such there be.”
Then said Oisille to Hircan—
“It seems to me that, as you are so wont to speak ill of women, you will find it easy to tell us some good story in praise of a man. I therefore give you my vote.”
“That can I easily do,” said Hircan, “for but a little while since I was told a story in praise of a gentleman whose love, constancy and patience are so meritorious that I must not suffer them to be forgotten.”
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A young student of noble birth, being smitten with love fora very beautiful lady, subdued both love and himself inorder to achieve his end, and this in spite of many suchtemptations as might have sufficed to make him break hispromise. And so all his woes were turned to joy by a rewardsuitable to his constant, patient, loyal and perfect love.(1)1 This story seems to be based on fact, being corroboratedin its main lines by Brantôme, but there is nothing in thenarrative to admit of the personages referred to beingidentified.—Ed.
In one of the goodly towns of the kingdom of France there dwelt a nobleman of good birth, who attended the schools that he might learn how virtue and honour are to be acquired among virtuous men. But although he was so accomplished that at the age of seventeen or eighteen years he was, as it were, both precept and example to others, Love failed not to add his lesson to the rest; and, that he might be the better hearkened to and received, concealed himself in the face and the eyes of the fairest lady in the whole country round, who had come to the city in order to advance a suit-at-law. But before Love sought to vanquish the gentleman by means of this lady’s beauty, he had first won her heart by letting her see the perfections of this young lord; for in good looks, grace, sense and excellence of speech he was surpassed by none.
You, who know what speedy way is made by the fire of love when once it fastens on the heart and fancy, will readily imagine that between two subjects so perfect as these it knew little pause until it had them at its will, and had so filled them with its clear light, that thought, wish and speech were all aflame with it. Youth, begetting fear in the young lord, led him to urge his suit with all the gentleness imaginable; but she, being conquered by love, had no need of force to win her. Nevertheless, shame, which tarries with ladies as long as it can, for some time restrained her from declaring her mind. But at last the heart’s fortress, which is honour’s abode, was shattered in such sort that the poor lady consented to that which she had never been minded to refuse.
In order, however, to make trial of her lover’s patience, constancy and love, she only granted him what he sought on a very hard condition, assuring him that if he fulfilled it she would love him perfectly for ever; whereas, if he failed in it, he would certainly never win her as long as he lived. And the condition was this:—she would be willing to talk with him, both being in bed together, clad in their linen only, but he was to ask nothing more from her than words and kisses.
He, thinking there was no joy to be compared to that which she promised him, agreed to the proposal, and that evening the promise was kept; in such wise that, despite all the caresses she bestowed on him and the temptations that beset him, he would not break his oath. And albeit his torment seemed to him no less than that of Purgatory, yet was his love so great and his hope so strong, sure as he felt of the ceaseless continuance of the love he had thus painfully won, that he preserved his patience and rose from beside her without having done anything contrary to her expressed wish. (2)
2 Brantôme’sDames Galantescontains an anecdote which isvery similar in character to this tale: “I have heardspeak,” he writes, “of a very beautiful and honourable lady,who gave her lover an assignation to sleep with her, on thecondition that he should not touch her... and he actuallyobeyed her, remaining in a state of ecstasy, temptation andcontinence the whole night long; whereat she was so wellpleased with him that some time afterwards she consented tobecome his mistress, giving as her reason that she hadwished to prove his love by his obedience to herinjunctions; and on this account she afterwards loved himthe more, for she felt sure that he was capable of even agreater feat than this, though it were a very great one.”—Lalanne’sOEuvres de Brantôme, vol. ix. pp. 6, 7.—L.
The lady was, I think, more astonished than pleased by such virtue; and giving no heed to the honour, patience and faithfulness her lover had shown in the keeping of his oath, she forthwith suspected that his love was not so great as she had thought, or else that he had found her less pleasing than he had expected.
She therefore resolved, before keeping her promise, to make a further trial of the love he bore her; and to this end she begged him to talk to a girl in her service, who was younger than herself and very beautiful, bidding him make love speeches to her, so that those who saw him come so often to the house might think that it was for the sake of this damsel and not of herself.
The young lord, feeling sure that his own love was returned in equal measure, was wholly obedient to her commands, and for love of her compelled himself to make love to the girl; and she, finding him so handsome and well-spoken, believed his lies more than other truth, and loved him as much as though she herself were greatly loved by him.
The mistress finding that matters were thus well advanced, albeit the young lord did not cease to claim her promise, granted him permission to come and see her at one hour after midnight, saying that after having so fully tested the love and obedience he had shown towards her, it was but just that he should be rewarded for his long patience. Of the lover’s joy on hearing this you need have no doubt, and he failed not to arrive at the appointed time.
But the lady, still wishing to try the strength of his love, had said to her beautiful damsel—
“I am well aware of the love a certain nobleman bears to you, and I think you are no less in love with him; and I feel so much pity for you both, that I have resolved to afford you time and place that you may converse together at your ease.”
The damsel was so enchanted that she could not conceal her longings, but answered that she would not fail to be present.
In obedience, therefore, to her mistress’s counsel and command, she undressed herself and lay down on a handsome bed, in a room the door of which the lady left half-open, whilst within she set a light so that the maiden’s beauty might be clearly seen. Then she herself pretended to go away, but hid herself near to the bed so carefully that she could not be seen.
Her poor lover, thinking to find her according to her promise, failed not to enter the room as softly as he could, at the appointed hour; and after he had shut the door and put off his garments and fur shoes, he got into the bed, where he looked to find what he desired. But no sooner did he put out his arms to embrace her whom he believed to be his mistress, than the poor girl, believing him entirely her own, had her arms round his neck, speaking to him the while in such loving words and with so beautiful a countenance, that there is not a hermit so holy but he would have forgotten his beads for love of her.
But when the gentleman recognised her with both eye and ear, and found he was not with her for whose sake he had so greatly suffered, the love that had made him get so quickly into the bed, made him rise from it still more quickly. And in anger equally with mistress and damsel, he said—
“Neither your folly nor the malice of her who put you there can make me other than I am. But do you try to be an honest woman, for you shall never lose that good name through me.”
So saying he rushed out of the room in the greatest wrath imaginable, and it was long before he returned to see his mistress. However love, which is never without hope, assured him that the greater and more manifest his constancy was proved to be by all these trials, the longer and more delightful would be his bliss.
The lady, who had seen and heard all that passed, was so delighted and amazed at beholding the depth and constancy of his love, that she was impatient to see him again in order to ask his forgiveness for the sorrow that she had caused him to endure. And as soon as she could meet with him, she failed not to address him in such excellent and pleasant words, that he not only forgot all his troubles but even deemed them very fortunate, seeing that their issue was to the glory of his constancy and the perfect assurance of his love, the fruit of which he enjoyed from that time forth as fully as he could desire, without either hindrance or vexation. (3)
3 In reference to this story, Montaigne says in his Essayon Cruelty: “Such as have sensuality to encounter, willinglymake use of this argument, that when it is at the height itsubjects us to that degree that a man’s reason can have noaccess... wherein they conceive that the pleasure doth sotransport us that our reason cannot perform its officewhilst we are so benumbed and extacied in delight.... But Iknow that a man may triumph over the utmost effort of thispleasure: I have experienced it in myself, and have notfound Venus so imperious a goddess as many—and some morereformed than I—declare. I do not consider it as a miracle,as the Queen of Navarre does in one of the Tales of herHeptameron(which is a marvellous pretty book of thekind), nor for a thing of extreme difficulty to pass overwhole nights, where a man has all the convenience andliberty he can desire, with a long-coveted mistress, and yetbe just to his faith first given to satisfy himself withkisses and innocent embraces only, without pressing anyfurther.”—Cotton’s “Montaigne’s Essays”, London, 1743, volii. pp. 109-10.
“I pray you, ladies, find me if you can a woman who has ever shown herself as constant, patient and true as was this man. They who have experienced the like temptations deem those in the pictures of Saint Antony very small in comparison; for one who can remain chaste and patient in spite of beauty, love, opportunity and leisure, will have virtue enough to vanquish every devil.”
“Tis a pity,” said Oisille, “that he did not address his love to a woman possessing as much virtue as he possessed himself. Their amour would then have been the most perfect and honourable that was ever heard of.”
“But prithee tell me,” said Geburon, “which of the two trials do you deem the harder?”
“I think the last,” said Parlamente, “for resentment is the strongest of all temptations.”
Longarine said she thought that the first was the most arduous to sustain, since to keep his promise it was needful he should subdue both love and himself.
“It is all very well for you to talk,” said Simontault, “it is for us who know the truth of the matter to say what we think of it. For my own part, I think he was stupid the first time and witless the second; for I make no doubt that, while he was keeping his promise, to his mistress, she was put to as much trouble as himself, if not more. She had him take the oath only in order to make herself out a more virtuous woman than she really was; she must have well known that strong love will not be bound by commandment or oath, or aught else on earth, and she simply sought to give a show of virtue to her vice, as though she could be won only through heroic virtues. And the second time he was witless to leave a woman who loved him, and who was worth more than his pledged mistress, especially when his displeasure at the trick played upon him had been a sound excuse.”
Here Dagoucin put in that he was of the contrary opinion, and held that the gentleman had on the first occasion shown himself constant, patient and true, and on the second occasion loyal and perfect in his love.
“And how can we tell,” asked Saffredent, “that he was not one of those that a certain chapter callsde frigidis et malificiatis?” (4)
4 This is an allusion to the penalties pronounced byseveral ecclesiastical Councils, and specified in theCapitularies, against those who endeavoured to suspend theprocreative faculties of their enemies by resorting tomagic. On this matter Baluze’s collection of Capitularies(vol. i.) may be consulted. The “chapter” referred to byMargaret is evidently chapter xv. (book vi.) of theDecretals of Pope Boniface VIII., which bears the title ofDe frigidis et maleficiatis, and which is alluded to byRabelais inPantagruel. The belief in the practices inquestion dates back to ancient times, and was shared byPlato and Pliny, the latter of whom says that to guardagainst any spell of the kind some wolf fat should be rubbedupon the threshold and door jambs of one’s bed-chamber. Inthe sixteenth century sorcery of this description was sogenerally believed in, in some parts of France, thatCardinal du Perron inserted special prayers against it inthe ritual. Some particulars on the subject will be found intheAdmirables Secrets du Petit Albert, and also in aTraité d’Enchantement, published at La Rochelle in 1591,which gives details concerning certain practices alleged totake place on the solemnisation of marriage among those ofthe Reformed Church.—D. and L.
“To complete his eulogy, Hircan ought to have told us how he comported himself when he obtained what he wanted, and then we should have been able to judge whether it was virtue or impotence that made him observe so much discretion.”
“You may be sure,” said Hircan, “that had he told me this I should have concealed it as little as I did the rest. Nevertheless, from seeing his person and knowing his temper, I shall ever hold that his conduct was due to the power of love rather than to any impotence or coldness.”
“Well, if he was such as you say,” said Simontault, “he ought to have broken his oath; for, had the lady been angered by such a trifle, it would have been easy to appease her.”
“Nay,” said Ennasuite, “perhaps she would not then have consented.”
“And pray,” said Saffredent, “would it not have been easy enough to compel her, since she had herself given him the opportunity?”
“By Our Lady!” said Nomerfide, “how you run on! Is that the way to win the favour of a lady who is accounted virtuous and discreet?”
“In my opinion,” said Saffredent, “the highest honour that can be paid to a woman from whom such things are desired is to take her by force, for there is not the pettiest damsel among them but seeks to be long entreated. Some indeed there are who must receive many gifts before they are won, whilst there are others so stupid that hardly any device or craft can enable one to win them, and with these one must needs be ever thinking of some means or other. But when you have to do with a woman who is too clever to be deceived, and too virtuous to be gained by words or gifts, is there not good reason to employ any means whatever that may be at your disposal to vanquish her? When you hear it said that a man has taken a woman by force, you may be sure that the woman has left him hopeless of any other means succeeding, and you should not think any the worse of a man who has risked his life in order to give scope to his love.”
Geburon burst out laughing.
“In my day,” said he, “I have seen besieged places stormed because it was impossible to bring the garrison to a parley either by money or by threats; ‘tis said that a place which begins to treat is half taken.”
“You may think,” said Ennasuite, “that every love on earth is based upon such follies as these, but there are those who have loved, and who have long persevered in their love, with very different aims.”
“If you know a story of that kind,” said Hircan, “I will give place to you for the telling of it.”
“I do know one,” said Ennasuite, “and I will very willingly relate it.”
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Tales of a similar character to this will be found in the following works written prior to Margaret’s time:—
Legrand d’Aussy’s collection ofFabliaux ou Contes du XIIème et XIIIème siècles(vol. iii.).
Boccaccio’sDecameron(day viii., story iv.).
Enguerrand d’Oisy’sLe Meunier d’Aleu.
Poggio’sFacetio ( Vir sibi cornua promovens).
Sacchetti’sNovelle(vol. ii., No. ccvi.).
Morlini’sNovelle(No. lxxix.).
Les Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles(story ix.).
Malespini’sDucento Novelle(part ii., No. xcvi.).
Of the foregoing, says M. de Montaiglon, Margaret could only have been acquainted with theDecameron, theCent Nouvelles, and Poggio’sFacetio, which had been translated into French by Tardix (see Nos. cv. and ex. of that translation).
A similar story in Latin verse is also contained in a fourteenth century MS. at Monte Cassino. SeeI codici e le arti a Monte Cassino, by D. Andrea Caravita (vol. ii. p. 289).
Since Margaret’s time stories of the same character have appeared in the following works:—
Melander’sJocondia(p. 298).
Phil. Béroalde’sContes Latins(seePoggii Imitationes, Noel’s éd., vol. ii. p. 245).
Guicciardini’sHore di Recreazione(p. 103).
J. Bouchet’sSerées(No. 8; Roybet’s éd., vol. ii. p. 115).
Gabrielle Chapuys’Facétieuses Journées(p. 213).
La Fontaine’sContes(book v., No. viii.:Les Quiproquo).Le Passe-Temps Agréable(p. 27).
Moreover, a song written on the same subject will be found, says M. de Lincy, on folio 44 of thePremier Recueil de toutes les chansons nouvelles(Troyes, Nicholas du Ruau, 1590). It is there called “The facetious and recreative story of a certain labourer of a village near Paris, who, thinking that he was enjoying his servant, lay with his wife.” This song was reprinted in various other collections of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.
An anecdote in keeping with this story will be found in Brantôme’s miscellaneous works (Petitot’s éd., vol. viii. pp. 382-4). The author ofLes Dames Galantes, after alluding to his aunt Louise de Bourdeille—who was brought up at Court by Anne of Brittany—proceeds to say:—
“A certain Grey Friar, who habitually preached before the Queen, fell so deeply in love with Mademoiselle de Bourdeille that he completely lost his wits, and sometimes in his sermons, whilst speaking of the beauty of the holy virgins of past times, he would so forget himself as to say some words respecting the beauty of my said aunt, not to mention the soft glances which he cast at her. And sometimes, whilst in the Queen’s room, he would take great pleasure in discoursing to her, not with words of love however, for he would have incurred a whipping, but with other covert words which tended towards love. My aunt in no wise approved of his discourses, and made some mention of them to her own and her companions’ governess. The Queen heard of the matter and could not believe it, on account of this man’s cloth and holiness. For this reason she kept silent until a certain Good Friday, when, in accordance with custom, this friar preached before her on the Holy Passion. The ladies and the maids, including my aunt, being seated as was their wont before the reverend father, in full view of him, he, as though giving out the text and introit of his sermon, began to say: ‘It is for you, lovely humanity, it is for you that I suffer this day. Thus on a certain occasion spake our Lord Jesus Christ.’ Then proceeding with his sermon the friar chronicled all the sufferings and afflictions which Jesus endured for mankind at His death upon the Cross, and these he compared to the sufferings that he himself endured on account of my aunt; but in such covert, such disguised words that even the most enlightened might have failed to understand their meaning. Queen Anne, however, who was very expert both in mind and judgment, laid hold of this, and took counsel as to the real meaning of the sermon, both with certain lords and ladies and certain learned men who were there present. They all pronounced the sermon to be most scandalous, and the Grey Friar most deserving of punishment; for which reason he was secretly chastised and whipped, and then driven away, without any scandal being made. Such was the Queen’s reply to the amours of this Grey Friar; and thus was my aunt well avenged on him for the way in which he had so often importuned her. In those times it was not allowable, under divers penalties, either to contradict or to refuse to speak to such people, who, so it was thought, conversed only of God and the salvation of the soul.”
In Mérimée’s Chronique de Charles IX., there will be found a facetious sermon by another Grey Friar; this, however, is less in keeping with theHeptameron, than with the character of the discourses delivered by the preachers of the League.—M.
The following account of the assassination of Alexander de’ Medici is taken from Sismondi’sHistoire des Républiques Italiennes du Moyen Age, Paris, 1826, vol. xvi. p. 95 et seq.:—
“But few months had elapsed since Alexander’s marriage, and he had employed them in his wonted debauchery, carrying depravity and dishonour alternately into the convents and noblest abodes of Florence, when, on January 6, 1537, he was assassinated by the man whom, of all men, he the least mistrusted. This was his cousin, Lorenzino de’ Medici.... Lorenzino had already helped Alexander to seduce several women of noble birth; and to facilitate his assignations had often lent him his house, which adjoined the ducal residence in the Via Larga. He engaged to bring the Duke the wife of Leonardo Ginori—sister to his own mother, but much younger than she was. Alexander had long been struck with this lady’s beauty, but so far she had virtuously repulsed him. After supper, however, on the day of the feast of the Epiphany, when the Carnival begins, Lorenzino informed the Duke that if he would repair to his house, unaccompanied and observing the greatest secrecy, he would find Catherine Ginori there. Alexander accepted the assignation, dismissed all his guards, rid himself of all those who wished to keep a watch upon him, and entered Lorenzino’s house without being perceived. He was tired and wished to rest awhile, but before throwing himself on the bed he unbuckled his sword, and Lorenzino, on taking it from him to hang it at the head of the bedstead, wound the belt around the hilt in such a fashion that the weapon could not be easily drawn from its scabbard. After telling the Duke to rest whilst he went to fetch his aunt, he went away, locking the door of the room behind him; but returned shortly afterwards with a spadassin, nicknamed Scoronconcolo, whom he had previously engaged, for the purpose, he said, of ridding him of a great personage of the Court whose name he had prudently not given. In fact Lorenzino had carried his design to the very point of execution without taking a single person into his confidence. On returning into the room, followed by Scoronconcolo, he called to the Duke: ‘Are you asleep, my lord?’ and at the same moment transpierced him with a short sword which he was carrying. Alexander, although mortally wounded, tried to resist his murderer, whereupon Lorenzino, to prevent him from crying out, thrust two of his fingers into his mouth, at the same time exclaiming: ‘Be not afraid, my lord.’ Alexander, it appears, bit his assailant’s fingers with all the strength of his jaws, and holding him in a tight embrace, rolled with him about the bed, so that Scoronconcolo was unable to strike the one without striking the other. He endeavoured to get at the Duke from between Lorenzino’s legs, but only succeeded in piercing the mattress, till at last he remembered that he had a knife about him, and drove it into the Duke’s throat, turning it round and round until he eventually killed him. (1)