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063a.jpg the Clerk Entreating Forgiveness of The President
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By means of a salad a President of Grenoble avenged himselfupon one of his clerks with whom his wife was smitten, andso saved the honour of his house.
In the town of Grenoble there dwelt a President whose name I shall not mention, but he was not a Frenchman. (1) He had a very beautiful wife, and they lived in great tranquillity together.
1 The personage referred to is Jeffroy Charles or Carles,Chief President of the Parliament of Grenoble, and Presidentof the Senate of Turin; his wife’s name was Margaret duMottet; she came of a very old family of Embrun. Someinteresting particulars concerning President Charles,supplied by that erudite scholar M. Jules Roman, will befound in the Appendix to the present volume (A).—Ed.
This lady, finding that her husband was now old, fell in love with a young clerk, called Nicholas. When the President went to the court in the morning, Nicholas used to enter his room and take his place. This was observed by a servant of the President’s who had served his master well for thirty years, and in his faithfulness he could not refrain from speaking to him of the matter.
The President, being a prudent man, would not lightly believe the story, but said that the servant wished to create contention between himself and his wife. If the matter, said he, were really as the servant declared, he could easily prove it to him, and if proof were not given he would believe that it was a lie contrived in order to destroy the love existing between himself and his wife. The servant promised that he would show him the truth of what he had said, and one morning, as soon as the President was gone to the court and Nicholas had entered the room, he sent one of his fellow-servants to tell his master to come, while he himself remained watching at the door lest Nicholas should come out.
As soon as the President saw the sign that was made to him by one of his servants, he pretended to be ill, left the court and hastened home. Here he found his old servant at the door, and was assured by him that Nicholas was inside and had only just gone in.
“Do not stir from this door,” said his lord to him, “for, as you are aware, there is no other means of going into or out of the room, except indeed by way of a little closet of which I myself alone carry the key.”
The President entered the room and found his wife and Nicholas in bed together. The clerk, clad in nothing but his shirt, threw himself at his feet to entreat forgiveness, while his wife began to weep.
Then said the President—
“Though you have done a deed the enormity of which you may yourself judge, I am yet unwilling that my house should be dishonoured on your account, and the daughters I have had by you made to suffer. Wherefore,” he continued, “cease to weep, I command you, and hearken to what I am going to do; and do you, Nicholas, hide yourself in my closet and make not a single sound.”
When this was done, he opened the door, and calling his old servant, said to him—
“Did you not assure me that you would show me Nicholas in company with my wife? Trusting in your word, I came hither in danger of killing my poor wife, and I have found nothing of what you told me. I have searched the whole room, as I will show you.”
So saying, he caused his servant to look under the beds and in every quarter. The servant, finding nothing, was greatly astonished, and said to his master—
“The devil must have made away with him, for I saw him go in, and he did not come out through the door. But I can see that he is not here.”
Then said his master to him—
“You are a wicked servant to try to create contention in this way between my wife and me. I dismiss you, and will pay you what I owe you for your services to me, and more besides; but be speedily gone, and take care that you are not in the town twenty-four hours from now.”
The President paid him for five or six years in advance, and, knowing him to be a faithful servant, resolved to reward him still further.
When the servant was gone weeping away, the President made Nicholas come forth from the closet, and after telling them both what he thought of their wickedness, he commanded them to give no hint of the matter to anyone. He also charged his wife to dress more bravely than was her wont, and to attend all assemblies, dances and feasts; and he told Nicholas to make more merry than before, but, as soon as he whispered to him, “Begone,” to see that he was out of the town before three hours were over. Having arranged matters in this way, he returned to the court, none being any the wiser. And for a fortnight, contrary to his wont, he entertained his friends and neighbours, and after the banquet had the tabourers, so that the ladies might dance.
One day, seeing that his wife was not dancing, he commanded Nicholas to lead her out. The clerk, thinking that the past had been forgotten, did so gladly, but when the dance was over, the President, under pretence of charging him with some household matter, whispered to him, “Begone, and come back no more.” And albeit Nicholas was grieved to leave his mistress, yet was he no less glad that his life was spared.
When the President had convinced all his kinsfolk and friends and the whole countryside of the deep love that he bore his wife, he went into his garden one fine day in the month of May to gather a salad, of such herbs that his wife did not live for twenty-four hours after eating of them; whereupon he made such a great show of mourning that none could have suspected him of causing her death; and in this way he avenged himself upon his enemy, and saved the honour of his house. (2)
2 Whilst admitting the historical basis of this story, M.Le Roux de Lincy conceives it to be the same as No. xlvii.of theCent Nouvelles Nouvelles, printed half-a-centurybefore theHeptameronwas written. Beyond thecircumstance, however, that in both cases a judge is shownprivily avenging himself on his wife for her infidelity,there is no resemblance between the two tales. There is goodreason for believing that Queen Margaret’s narrative isbased on absolute fact, and not on the story in theCentNouvelles. Both tales have often been imitated. See forinstance Bonaventure Despéricr’sContes, Nouvelles, etjoyeux Devis(tale xcii., or, in some editions, xc. );LesHeures de Récréation de Louis Guicciardini, p. 28; G.Giraldi Cinthio’sHecatommithi, overro cento Novelle, &c.(dec. iii. nov. vi. ); Malespini’sDucento Novelle(partii. nov. xvi.); Verboquet’sLes Délices, &c, 1623, p. 23;and Shirley’sLove’s Cruelly. These tales also inspiredsome of the Spanish dramatists, notably Calderon.—Ed. andL.
“I do not mean by this, ladies, to praise the President’s conscience, but rather to bring out the frailty of a woman and the great patience and prudence of a man. And I beg you, ladies, be not angered by the truth, which sometimes speaks as loudly against ourselves as against the men; for vice and virtue are common alike to men and women.”
“If all those,” said Parlamente, “who have fallen in love with their servants were obliged to eat salads of that kind, I know some who would be less fond of their gardens than they are at present, and who would pluck up the herbs to get rid of such as restore the honour of a family by compassing the death of a wanton mother.”
Hircan, who guessed why she had said this, angrily replied—“A virtuous woman should never judge another guilty of what she would not do herself.”
“Knowledge is not judgment nor yet foolishness,” returned Parlamente. “However, this poor woman paid the penalty that many others have deserved, and I think that the President, when desirous of vengeance, comported himself with wondrous prudence and wisdom.”
“And with great malevolence, also,” said Longarine. “‘Twas a slow and cruel vengeance, and showed he had neither God nor conscience before his eyes.”
“Why, what would you have had him do,” said Hircan, “to revenge himself for the greatest wrong that a woman can deal to a man?”
“I would have had him kill her in his wrath,” she replied. “The doctors say that since the first impulses of passion are not under a man’s control, such a sin may be forgiven; so it might have obtained pardon.” “Yes,” said Geburon, “but his daughters and descendants would have always borne the stain.”
“He ought not to have killed her at all,” said Longarine, “for, when his wrath was past, she might have lived with him in virtue, and nothing would ever have been said about the matter.”
“Do you think,” said Saffredent, “that he was appeased merely because he concealed his anger? For my part, I believe that he was as wrathful on the last day, when he made his salad, as he had been on the first, for there are persons whose first impulses have no rest until their passion has worked its will. I am well pleased you say that the theologians deem such sins easy to be pardoned, for I am of their opinion.”
“It is well to look to one’s words,” said Longarine, “in presence of persons so dangerous as you. What I said is to be understood of passion when it is so strong that it suddenly seizes upon all the senses, and reason can find no place.”
“It is so,” said Saffredent, “that I understood your words, and I thence conclude that, whatever a man may do, he can commit only venial sin if he be deeply in love. I am sure that, if Love hold him fast bound, Reason can never gain a hearing, whether from his heart or from his understanding. And if the truth be told, there is not one among us but has had knowledge of such passion; and not merely do I think that sin so committed is readily pardoned, but I even believe that God is not angered by it, seeing that such love is a ladder whereby we may climb to the perfect love of Himself. And none can attain to this save by the ladder of earthly love, (3) for, as St. John says, ‘He that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen?’” (4)
3 All this passage is borrowed, almost word for word, fromCastiglione’sLibro del Cortegiano. Seeante, vol. i. p.10.—B.J.4 i John iv. 20.—M.
“There is not a passage in Scripture,” said Oisille, “too good for you to turn to your own purposes. But beware of doing like the spider, which transforms sound meat into poison. Be advised that it is a perilous matter to quote Scripture out of place and without cause.”
“Do you call speaking the truth out of place and without cause?” said Saffredent. “You hold, then, that when, in speaking to you unbelieving women, we call God to our assistance, we take His name in vain; but if there be any sin in this, you alone must bear the blame, for it is your unbelief that compels us to seek out all the oaths that we can think of. And in spite of it all, we cannot kindle the flame of charity in your icy hearts.”
“That,” said Longarine, “proves that you all speak falsely. If truth were in your words, it is strong enough to make you be believed. Yet there is danger lest the daughters of Eve should hearken too readily to the serpent.”
“I see clearly,” said Saffredent, “that women are not to be conquered by men. So I shall be silent, and see to whom Ennasuite will give her vote.”
“I give it,” she said, “to Dagoucin, for I think he would not willingly speak against the ladies.”
“Would to God,” said Dagoucin, “that they were as well disposed towards me as I am towards them. To show you that I have striven to honour the virtuous among them by recalling their good deeds, I will now tell you the story of such a one. I will not deny, ladies, that the patience of the gentleman at Pampeluna, and of the President at Grenoble was great, but then it was equalled in magnitude by their vengeance. Moreover, when we seek to praise a virtuous man, we ought not so to exalt a single virtue as to make of it a cloak for the concealment of grievous vice; for none are praiseworthy save such as do virtuous things from the love of virtue alone, and this I hope to prove by telling you of the patient virtue of a lady whose goodness had no other object save the honour of God and the salvation of her husband.”
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073a.jpg the Lady of Loué Bringing Her Husband The Basin Of Water
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The Lady of Loué so influenced her husband by her greatpatience and longsuffering, that she drew him from his evilways, and they lived afterwards in greater love thanbefore.
There was a lady of the house of Loué (1) who was so prudent and virtuous, that she was loved and esteemed by all her neighbours. Her husband trusted her, as well he might, with all his affairs, and she managed them with such wisdom that his house came, by her means, to be one of the wealthiest and best appointed in either the land of Anjou or Touraine.
1 Loué is in Anjou, in the department of the Sarthe, beingthe chief locality of a canton of the arrondissement of LeMans. The Lady of Loué referred to may be either Philippa deBeaumont-Bressuire, wife of Peter de Laval, knight, Lord ofLoué, Benars, &c.; or her daughter-in-law, Frances deMaillé, who in or about 1500 espoused Giles de Laval, Lordof Loué. Philippa is known to have died in 1525, afterbearing her husband five children. She had been wedded fiftyyears. However, the subject of this story is the same asthat of the Lady of Langallier, or Languillier (also inAnjou), which will be found in chapter xvii. ofLe Livre duChevalier de la Tour-Landry, an English translation ofwhich, made in the reign of Henry VI., was edited in 1868 byMr. Thomas Wright for the Early English Text Society.—Seealso Le Roux de Lincy’sFemmes célèbres de l’ancienneFrance,vol i. p. 356. Particulars concerning the Laval-Loué family will be found in Duchesne’s Histoire de laMaison de Montmorency.—L. and M.
In this fashion she lived a great while with her husband, to whom she bore several handsome children; but then, as happiness is always followed by its opposite, hers began to be lessened. Her husband, finding virtuous ease to be unendurable, laid it aside to seek for toil, and made it his wont to rise from beside his wife as soon as she was asleep, and not to return until it was nearly morning. The lady of Loué took this conduct ill, and falling into a deep unrest, of which she was fain to give no sign, neglected her household matters, her person and her family, like one that deemed herself to have lost the fruit of her toils, to wit, her husband’s exceeding love, for the preserving of which there was no pain that she would not willingly have endured. But having lost it, as she could see, she became careless of everything else in the house, and the lack of her care soon brought mischief to pass.
Her husband, on the one part, spent with much extravagance, while, on the other, she had ceased to control the management, so that ere long affairs fell into such great disorder, that the timber began to be felled, and the lands to be mortgaged.
One of her kinsfolk that had knowledge of her distemper, rebuked her for her error, saying that if love for her husband did not lead her to care for the advantage of his house, she should at least have regard to her poor children. Hereat her pity for them caused her to recover herself, and she tried all means to win back her husband’s love.
In this wise she kept good watch one night, and, when he rose from beside her, she also rose in her nightgown, let make her bed, and said her prayers until her husband returned. And when he came in, she went to him and kissed him, and brought him a basin full of water that he might wash his hands. He was surprised at this unwonted behaviour, and told her that there was no need for her to rise, since he was only coming from the latrines; whereat she replied that, although it was no great matter, it was nevertheless a seemly thing to wash one’s hands on coming from so dirty and foul a place, intending by these words to make him perceive and abhor the wickedness of his life. But for all that he did not mend his ways, and for a full year the lady continued to act in this way to no purpose.
Accordingly, seeing that this behaviour served her naught, one day, while she was waiting for her husband, who tarried longer than ordinary, she had a mind to go in search of him, and, passing from room to room, found him at last in a closet at the back of the house, lying asleep by the side of the ugliest, vilest, and filthiest serving-woman they had.
Thereupon, thinking she would teach him to leave so excellent a wife for so filthy and vile a woman, she took some straw and set it on fire in the middle of the room; but on seeing that it would as soon kill her husband as awaken him, she plucked him by the arm, crying out—
“Fire! fire!”
If the husband was ashamed and sorry at being found by so virtuous a wife in company with such a slut, he certainly had good reason for it. Then said his wife to him—
“For a year, sir, have I tried by gentle and patient means to draw you from this wickedness, and to show you that whilst washing the outside you should also cleanse that which is within. Finding that all I could do was of no avail, I have sought assistance from that clement which brings all things to an end, and I promise you, sir, that, if this do not mend you, I know not whether I shall a second time be able to deliver you from the danger as I have now done. I pray you remember that the deepest despair is that caused by love, and that if I had not had the fear of God before my eyes I could not have endured so much.”
The husband, glad to get off so easily, promised that he would never again cause her any pain on his account. This the lady was very willing to believe, and with her husband’s consent turned away the servant who had so offended her. And from that time forth they lived most lovingly together, so that even the errors of the past, by the good that had resulted from them, served but to increase their happiness.
“Should God give you such husbands, ladies, I pray you despair not until you have fully tried all means to win them back. There are twenty-four hours in the day in which a man may change his mind, and a wife who has gained her husband over by patience and longsuffering should deem herself more fortunate than if fate and her kinsfolk had given her one more perfect.”
“It is an example,” said Oisille, “that all married women ought to follow.”
“Follow it who will,” said Parlamente; “for my own part, I should find it impossible to be patient so long. Although in every condition patience is a seemly virtue, yet I think that in wedded life it finally produces ill-will. For, when suffering is caused you by your partner, you are compelled to keep yourself as much apart from him as possible; and from such estrangement there springs up contempt for the faithless one; and this contempt gradually lessens love, for a thing is loved in proportion as it is esteemed.”
“But there is a danger,” said Ennasuite, “that the impatient wife may meet with a passionate husband who, instead of patience, will bring her pain.”
“And what more,” said Parlamente, “could a husband do than was done by the husband in the story?”
“What more?” said Ennasuite. “Why, beat his wife soundly, and make her lie in the smaller bed, and his sweetheart in the larger.” (2)
2 At this period, and for some time afterwards, there wereusually two beds in the master’s room, a large one forhimself and his wife, and a small one in which slept atrusty servant, male or female. These little beds are shownin some of the designs engraved by Abraham Bosse in theseventeenth century.—L.
“It is my belief,” said Parlamente, “that a true woman would be less grieved by being beaten in anger than by being contemned for one of less worth than herself. After enduring the severance of love, nothing that her husband could do would be able to cause her any further pain. And in this wise the story says that the trouble she took to regain him was for the sake of her children—which I can well believe.”
“And do you think that it showed great patience on her part,” said Nomerfide, “to kindle a fire beneath the bed on which her husband was sleeping.”
“Yes,” said Longarine; “for when she saw the smoke she waked him, and herein, perhaps, was she most to blame; for the ashes of such a husband as hers would to my thinking have been good for the making of lye.”
“You are cruel, Longarine,” said Oisille, “but those are not the terms on which you lived with your own husband.”
“No,” said Longarine, “for, God be thanked, he never gave me cause. I have reason to regret him all my life long, not to complain of him.”
“But if he had behaved in such a manner towards you,” said Nomerfide, “what would you have done?”
“I loved him so dearly,” said Longarine, “that I believe I should have killed him, and myself as well. To die after taking such a vengeance would have been sweeter to me than to live faithfully with the faithless.”
“So far as I can see,” said Hircan, “you do not love your husbands except for your own sakes. If they are what you want them to be, you are very fond of them; but if they fall into the slightest error towards you, they lose on a Saturday the toil of an entire week. Thus you are minded to rule, and I for my part will consent to it provided, however, that all other husbands agree.”
“It is reasonable,” said Parlamente, “that man should rule us as our head, but not that he should forsake us or treat us ill.”
“God has provided so wisely,” said Oisille, “both for man and for woman, that I hold marriage, if it be not abused, to be the goodliest and securest condition imaginable, and I am sure that, whatever they may seem to do, all here present think the same. And if the man claims to be wiser than the woman, he will be the more severely blamed should the fault come from him. But enough of such talk. Let us now see to whom Dagoucin will give his vote.”
“I give it,” he said, “to Longarine.”
“You do me a great pleasure,” she replied, “for I have read a story that is worthy to follow yours. Since we are set upon praising the virtuous patience of ladies, I will show you one more worthy of praise than she of whom we have just been speaking. And she is the more deserving of esteem in that she was a city dame, and therefore one of those whose breeding is less virtuous than that of others.”
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083a.jpg the Lady of Tours Questioning Her Husband’s Mistress
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A towns-woman of Tours returned so much good for all theevil treatment she had received from her husband, that thelatter forsook the mistress whom he was quietly maintaining,and returned to his wife. (1)1 It is probable that the incidents related in this taleoccurred between 1460 and 1470. They will be found recordedin theMénagier de Paris. (See Baron Pichon’s edition,1847, vol. i. p. 237). A similar narrative figures in someeditions of Morlini’s tales, notably theNovello, Fabello,et Comedies, Neapoli, 1520. We further find it inGueudeville’s translation of Erasmus’s Colloquies (Dialoguesur le mariage, collogues, &c., Leyden, 1720, vol. i. p.87), and Mr. Walter Keily has pointed out (theHeptameron,Bohn, 1864) that William Warner worked the same incidentsinto his poemAlbion’s England, his stanzas beingreproduced in Percy’sReliquesunder the title ofThePatient Countess.—L. and Ed.
In the city of Tours there dwelt a chaste and comely townswoman, who, by reason of her virtues, was not only loved but feared also and respected by her husband. Nevertheless, with all the fickleness of men who grow weary of ever eating good bread, he fell in love with a farm tenant (2) of his own, and would oft-time leave Tours to visit the farm, where he always remained two or three days; and when he came back to Tours he was always in so sorry a plight that his wife had much ado to cure him, yet, as soon as he was whole again, he never failed to return to the place where pleasure caused him to forget all his ills.
2 The French word here ismétayère. Themétayer(fem.métayère) was a farm tenant under the general control of hislandlord, who supplied him with seed and took to himself aconsiderable portion of the produce. The system was doneaway with at the Revolution, but was revived here and thereunder the Restoration, when some of the nobles came to“their own” again, and there may even nowadays be a fewinstances of the kind.—Ed.
When his wife, who was anxious above all things for his life and health, found him constantly return home in so evil a plight, she went to the farm and found there the young woman whom her husband loved. Then, without anger but with graceful courage, she told her that she knew her husband often went to see her, but that she was ill-pleased to find him always return home exhausted in consequence of her sorry treatment of him. The poor woman, influenced as much by respect for her mistress as by regard for the truth, was not able to deny the fact, and craved forgiveness.
The lady asked to see the room and bed in which her husband was wont to sleep, and found it so cold and dirty and ill-appointed that she was moved to pity. Forthwith she sent for a good bed furnished with sheets, blankets and counterpane such as her husband loved; she caused the room to be made clean and neat and hung with tapestries; provided suitable ware for his meat and drink, a pipe of good wine, sweetmeats and confections, and begged the woman to send him back no more in so miserable a state.
It was not long before the husband again went, as was his wont, to see his tenant, and he was greatly amazed to find his poor lodging in such excellent order. And still more was he surprised when the woman gave him to drink in a silver cup; and he asked her whence all these good things had come. The poor woman told him, weeping, that they were from his wife, who had taken such great pity on his sorry treatment that she had furnished the house in this way, and had charged her to be careful of his health.
When the gentleman saw the exceeding generosity of his wife in returning so much good for all the evil turns that he had done her, he looked upon his own wrongdoing as no less great than her kindness; and, after giving some money to his tenant, he begged her to live in future as an honest woman. Then he went back to his wife, acknowledged his wrongdoing, and told her that, but for her great gentleness and generosity, he could never have forsaken the life that he had been leading. And thenceforward, forgetting the past, they lived in all peacefulness together.
“You may be sure, ladies, that there are but few husbands whom a wife’s love and patience cannot win at last, unless they be harder even than stone, which weak and yielding water will in time make hollow.”
“That woman,” said Parlamente, “had neither heart, gall nor liver.”
“What would you have had her do?” said Longarine. “She practised what God commands, and returned good for evil.” (3)
3 “Recompense to no man evil for evil.”—Rom. xii. 17.“Not rendering evil for evil, or railing for railing.”—1Pet. iii. 9.—Ed.
“I think,” said Hircan, “she must have been in love with some Grey Friar, who had laid upon her the penance of having her husband well treated in the country, so that, meantime, she might be free to entertain herself well in the town.”
“Therein,” said Oisille, “you clearly show the wickedness of your own heart, judging ill of a good deed. I rather believe her to have been so subdued by the love of God that she cared for naught save the salvation of her husband’s soul.”
“It seems to me,” said Simontault, “that he had more reason to return to his wife when he was so cold at the farm than afterwards when he was treated so well.”
“From what I can see,” said Saffredent, “you are not of the same opinion as the rich man of Paris who, when he lay with his wife, could not put off his gear without being chilled, but who never felt the worse when he went without cap or shoes, in the depth of winter, to see his servant-maid in the cellar. Yet his wife was very beautiful and the maid very ugly.”
“Have you not heard,” said Geburon, “that God always aids lunatics, lovers and sots? Perhaps he was all three in one.”
“Do you thence conclude,” said Pariamente, “that God recks not of the wise, the chaste and the temperate? Help is not needed by those who can help themselves. He who said that He had come for the sick and not for the whole, (4) came by the law of His mercy to succour our infirmities, thereby annulling the decrees of His rigorous justice; and he that deems himself wise is a fool in the sight of God. But, to end the sermon, to whom will Longarine give her vote?”
4 “They that are whole have no need of the physician, butthey that are sick.”—St. Markii. 17. See alsoSt.Lukev. 31.—Ed.
“I give it,” she said, “to Saffredent.”
“Then I hope,” said Saffredent, “to prove to you that God does not favour lovers. For although it has already been said, ladies, that vice is common to men and women alike, yet will a subtle artifice be more readily and adroitly devised by a woman than by a man Of this I am now about to give you an instance.”
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089a.jpg the Lord of Grignaulx Catching The Pretended Ghost
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The Lord of Grignaulx freed his house from a ghost whichhad so tormented his wife that for the space of two yearsshe had dwelt elsewhere.
A certain Lord of Grignaulx (1) who was gentleman of honour to the Queen of France, Anne, Duchess of Brittany, on returning to his house whence he had been absent during more than two years, found his wife at another estate, near by, and when he inquired the reason of this, she told him that a ghost was wont to haunt the house, and tormented them so much that none could dwell there. (2) Monsieur de Grig-naulx, who had no belief in such absurdities, replied that were it the devil himself he was not afraid of him, and so brought his wife home again.
At night he caused many candles to be lighted that he might see the ghost more clearly, and, after watching for a long time without hearing anything, he fell asleep; but immediately afterwards he was awaked by a buffet upon the cheek, and heard a voice crying, “Brenigne, Brenigne,” which had been the name of his grandmother. (3) Then he called to the serving-woman, who lay near them, (4) to light the candle, for all were now extinguished, but she durst not rise. And at the same time the Lord of Grig-naulx felt the covering pulled from off him, and heard a great noise of tables, trestles and stools falling about the room; and this lasted until morning. However, the Lord of Grignaulx was more displeased at losing his rest than afraid of the ghost, for indeed he never believed it to be any such thing.
1 This is John de Talleyrand, knight, lord of Grignols andFouquerolles, Prince of Chalais, Viscount of Fronsac, mayorand captain of Bordeaux, chamberlain of Charles VIII., firstmajordomo and gentleman of honour in turn to two FrenchQueens, Anne of Brittany and Mary of England. His wife wasMargaret de la Tour, daughter of Anne de la Tour, Viscountof Turenne, and Mary de Beaufort. She bore him severalchildren. It was John de Talleyrand who warned Louise ofSavoy that her son Francis, then Count of Angoulême, waspaying court to the young Queen, Mary of England, wife toLouis XII. Apprehensive lest this intrigue should destroyher son’s prospects, Louise prevailed on him to relinquishit (Brantôme’sDames Illustres).—L. 4 892 The house haunted by the ghost would probably beTalleyrand’s château at Grignols, in the department of theGironde. His lordship of Fouquerolles was only a few milesdistant, in the Dordogne, and this would be the estate towhich his wife had retired.—Ed.3 Talleyrand’s grandmother on the paternal side was Mary ofBrabant; the reference may be to his maternal grandmother,whose Christian name was possibly “Bénigne.” On the otherhand, Boaistuau gives the name as Revigne, and among the oldFrenchnoblessewere the Revigné and Revigny families.—Ed.4 Seeante, note 2 to Tale XXXVII.
On the following night he resolved to capture this ghost, and so, when he had been in bed a little while, he pretended to snore very loudly, and placed his open hand close to his face. Whilst he was in this wise waiting for the ghost, he felt that something was coming near him, and accordingly snored yet louder than before, whereat the ghost was so encouraged as to deal him a mighty blow. Forthwith, the Lord of Grignaulx caught the ghost’s hand as it rested on his face, and cried out to his wife—
“I have the ghost!”
His wife immediately rose up and lit the candle, and found that it was the serving-woman who slept in their room; and she, throwing herself upon her knees, entreated forgiveness and promised to confess the truth. This was, that she had long loved a serving-man of the house, and had taken this fine mystery in hand in order to drive both master and mistress away, so that she and her lover, having sole charge of the house, might be able to make good cheer as they were wont to do when alone. My Lord of Grignaulx, who was a somewhat harsh man, commanded that they should be soundly beaten so as to prevent them from ever forgetting the ghost, and this having been done, they were driven away. In this fashion was the house freed from the plaguy ghosts who for two years long had played their pranks in it. (5)
5 Talleyrand, who passes for having been the last of the“Rois des Ribauds” (see the Bibliophile Jacob’s historicalnovel of that title), was, like his descendant the greatdiplomatist, a man of subtle and caustic humour. Brantôme,in his article on Anne of Brittany inLes Dames Illustres,repeatedly refers to him, and relates that on an occasionwhen the Queen wished to say a few words in Spanish to theEmperor’s ambassador—there was a project of marrying herdaughter Claude to Charles V.—she applied to Grignols toteach her a sentence or two of the Castilian language. He,however, taught her some dirty expression, but was carefulto warn Louis XII., who laughed at it, telling his wife onno account to use the Spanish words she had learnt. Ondiscovering the truth, Anne was so greatly vexed, thatGrignols was obliged to withdraw from Court for some time,and only with difficulty obtained the Queen’s forgiveness.—L. and Ed.
“It is wonderful, ladies, to think of the effects wrought by the mighty god of Love. He causes women to put aside all fear, and teaches them to give every sort of trouble to man in order to work their own ends. But if the purpose of the serving-woman calls for blame, the sound sense of the master is no less worthy of praise. He knew that when the spirit departs, it returns no more.” (6)
6 “A wind that passeth away, and cometh not again.”—Psalmlxxviii. 39.—M.
“In sooth,” said Geburon, “love showed little favour to the man and the maid, but I agree that the sound sense of the master was of great advantage to him.”
“Nevertheless,” said Ennasuite, “the maid through her cunning lived for a long time at her ease.”
“‘Tis but a sorry ease,” said Oisille, “that is founded upon sin and that ends in shame and chastisement.”
“That is true, madam,” said Ennasuite, “but many persons reap pain and sorrow by living righteously, and lacking wit enough to procure themselves in all their lives as much pleasure as these two.”
“It is nevertheless my opinion,” said Oisille, “that there can be no perfect pleasure unless the conscience be at rest.”
“Nay,” said Simontault, “the Italian maintains that the greater the sin the greater the pleasure.” (7)
7 This may be a reference to Boccaccio or Castiglione, butthe expression is of a proverbial character in manylanguages.—Ed.
“In very truth,” said Oisille, “he who invented such a saying must be the devil himself. Let us therefore say no more of him, but see to whom Saffredent will give his vote.”
“To whom?” said he. “Only Parlamente now remains; but if there were a hundred others, she should still receive my vote, as being the one from whom we shall certainly learn something.”
“Well, since I am to end the day,” said Parlamente, “and since I promised yesterday to tell you why Rolandine’s father built the castle in which he kept her so long a prisoner, I will now relate it to you.”