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

  _TALE XXXV_.

  _The affection of a lady of Pampeluna--who, thinking that there was no danger in spiritual love, had striven to insinuate herself into the good graces of a Grey Friar--was subdued by her husband's prudence in such wise that, without telling her that he knew aught of the matter, he brought her mortally to hate that which she had most dearly loved, and wholly to devote herself to him_.

  In the town of Pampeluna there lived a lady who was accounted beautifuland virtuous, as well as the chastest and most pious in the land. Sheloved her husband, and was so obedient to him that he had entire trustin her. This lady was constantly present at Divine service and atsermons, and she used to persuade her husband and children to be hearerswith her. She had reached the age of thirty years, at which women arewont to claim discretion rather than beauty, when on the first day ofLent she went to the church to receive the emblem of death. (1) Here shefound that the sermon was beginning, the preacher being a Grey Friar,a man esteemed holy by all the people on account of his great austerityand goodness of life, which made him thin and pale, yet not to such apoint as to prevent him from being one of the handsomest men imaginable.

  The lady listened piously to his sermon, her eyes being fixed on thisreverend person, and her ears and mind ready to hearken to what he said.And so it happened that the sweetness of his words passed through thelady's ears even to her heart, while the comeliness and grace of hiscountenance passed through her eyes and so smote her soul that she wasas one entranced. When the sermon was over, she looked carefully tosee where the Friar would celebrate mass, (2) and there she presentedherself to take the ashes from his hand. The latter was as fair andwhite as any lady's, and this pious lady paid more attention to it thanto the ashes which it gave her.

  1 To receive the ashes on Ash Wednesday.--M.

  2 That is, in which of the chapels. A friar would not officiate at the high altar.--Ed.

  Feeling persuaded that a spiritual love such as this, with any pleasurethat she might derive from it, could not wound her conscience, shefailed not to go and hear the sermon every day and to take her husbandwith her; and they both gave such great praise to the preacher, thatthey spoke of nought beside at table or elsewhere. At last this supposedspiritual fire became so carnal that the poor lady's heart in which itglowed began to consume her whole body; and just as she had been slow tofeel the flame, so did she now swiftly kindle, and feel all the delightsof passion, before she knew that she even was in love. Being thussurprised by her enemy, Love, she offered no further resistance to hiscommands. But the worst was that the physician who might have curedher ills was ignorant of her distemper; for which reason, banishing thedread she should have had of making known her foolishness to a man ofwisdom, and her vice and wickedness to a man of virtue and honour, sheproceeded to write to him of the love she bore him, doing this, to beginwith, as modestly as she could. And she gave her letter to a littlepage, telling him what he had to do, and saying that he was to becareful above all things that her husband should not see him going tothe monastery of the Grey Friars.

  The page, desiring to take the shortest way, passed through a street inwhich his master was sitting in a shop. Seeing him pass, the gentlemancame out to observe whither he was going, and when the page perceivedhim, he was quite confused, and hid himself in a house. Noticing this,his master followed him, took him by the arm and asked him whither hewas bound. Finding also that he had a terrified look and made but emptyexcuses, he threatened to beat him soundly if he did not confess thetruth.

  "Alas, sir," said the poor page, "if I tell you, my lady will kill me."

  The gentleman, suspecting that his wife was making some bargain withouthis knowledge, promised the page that he should come by no hurt, andshould be well rewarded, if he told the truth; whereas, if he lied, heshould be thrown into prison for life. Thereupon the little page, eagerto have the good and to avoid the evil, told him the whole story, andshowed him the letter that his mistress had written to the preacher. Atthis her husband was the more astonished and grieved, as he had all hislife long been persuaded of the faithfulness of his wife, in whom he hadnever discovered a fault.

  Nevertheless, being a prudent man, he concealed his anger, and so thathe might fully learn his wife's intention, he sent a reply as thoughfrom the preacher, thanking her for her goodwill, and declaring that hiswas as great towards her. The page, having sworn to his master that hewould conduct the matter with discretion, (3) brought the counterfeitletter to his mistress, who was so greatly rejoiced by it that herhusband could see that her countenance was changed; for, instead ofgrowing lean from the fasts of Lent, she now appeared fairer and fresherthan before they began.

  3 This is borrowed from MS. 1520. In our MS. the passage runs, "The page having shown his master how to conduct this affair," &c.--L.

  It was now mid-Lent, but no thought of the Passion or Holy Weekprevented the lady from writing her frenzied fancies to the preacheraccording to her wont; and when he turned his eyes in her direction, orspoke of the love of God, she thought that all was done or said for loveof her; and so far as her eyes could utter her thoughts, she did notspare them.

  The husband never failed to return her similar answers, but after Easterhe wrote to her in the preacher's name, begging her to let him know howhe could secretly see her. She, all impatient for the meeting, advisedher husband to go and visit some estates of theirs in the country, andthis he agreed to do, hiding himself, however, in the house of a friend.Then the lady failed not to write to the preacher that it was time heshould come and see her, since her husband was in the country.

  The gentleman, wishing thoroughly to try his wife's heart, then went tothe preacher, and begged him for the love of God to lend him his robe.The preacher, who was a man of worth, replied that the rules ofhis Order forbade it, and that he would never lend his robe for amasquerade. (4) The gentleman assured him, however, that he would makeno evil use of it, and that he wanted it for a matter necessary to hishappiness and his salvation. Thereupon the Friar, who knew the otherto be a worthy and pious man, lent it to him; and with this robe, whichcovered his face so that his eyes could not be seen, the gentleman puton a false beard and a false nose, each similar to the preacher's. Healso made himself of the same height by means of cork. (5)

  4 This may be compared with the episode of Tappe-coue or Tickletoby in Pantagruel:--"Villon, to dress an old clownish father grey-beard, who was to represent God the Father [at the performance of a mystery], begged of Friar Stephen Tickletoby, sacristan to the Franciscan Friars of the place, to lend him a cope and a stole. Tickletoby refused him, alleging that by their provincial statutes it was rigorously forbidden to give or lend anything to players. Villon replied that the statute reached no further than farces, drolls, antics, loose and dissolute games.... Tickletoby, however, peremptorily bid him provide himself elsewhere, if he would, and not to hope for anything out of his monastical wardrobe.... Villon gave an account of this to the players as of a most abominable action; adding that God would shortly revenge himself and make an example of Tickletoby."-- Urquhart's _Works of Rabelais, Pantagruel_, (Book IV. xiii.)--M.

  5 In Boaistuau's edition the sentence runs, "and by putting some cork in his shoes made himself of the same height as the preacher."--L.

  Thus garmented, he repaired in the evening to his wife's apartment,where she was very piously awaiting him. The poor fool did not tarryfor him to come to her, but ran to embrace him like a woman bereft ofreason. Keeping his face bent down lest he should be recognised, hethen began making the sign of the cross, and pretended to flee from her,saying the while nothing but--

  "Temptation! temptation!"

  "Alas, father," said the lady, "you are indeed right, for there is nostronger temptation than that which proceeds from love. But for thisyou have promised me a remedy; and I pray you, now that we have time andopportunity, to take pity upo
n me."

  So saying, she strove to embrace him, but he ran all round the room,making great signs of the cross, and still crying--

  "Temptation! temptation!"

  However, when he found that she was urging him too closely, he took abig stick that he had beneath his cloak and beat her so sorely as toend her temptation, and that without being recognised by her. Then heimmediately went and returned the robe to the preacher, assuring himthat it had brought him good fortune.

  On the morrow, pretending to come from a distance, he returned home andfound his wife in bed, when, as though he knew nothing of her sickness,he asked her the cause of it; and she replied that it was a catarrh,and that she could move neither hand nor foot. The husband, who was muchinclined to laugh, made as though he were greatly grieved, and as ifto cheer her told her that he had bidden the saintly preacher to supperthat evening. But she quickly replied--

  "God forbid, sweetheart, that you should ever invite such folk. Theybring misfortune into every house they visit."

  "Why, sweet," said the husband, "how is this? You have always greatlypraised this man, and for my own part I believe that if there be a holyman on earth, it is he."

  "They are good in church and when preaching," answered the lady, "but inour houses they are very antichrists. I pray you, sweet, let me not seehim, for with my present sickness it would be enough to kill me."

  "Since you do not wish to see him," returned the husband, "you shall notdo so, but I must have him here to supper."

  "Do what you will," she replied, "but let me not see him, for I hatesuch folk as I do the devil."

  After giving supper to the good father, the husband said to him--

  "Father, I believe you to be so beloved of God, that He will refuse youno request. I therefore entreat you to take pity on my poor wife, whofor a week past has been possessed by the evil spirit in such a way,that she tries to bite and scratch every one. She cares for neithercross nor holy water, but I verily believe that if you will lay yourhand upon her the devil will come forth, and I therefore earnestlyentreat you to do so."

  "My son," said the good father, "all things are possible to a believer.Do you, then, firmly believe that God in His goodness never refusesthose that in faith seek grace from Him?"

  "I do, father," said the gentleman.

  "Be also assured, my son," said the friar, "that He can do what He will,and that He is even as powerful as He is good. Let us go, then, strongin faith to withstand this roaring lion, and to pluck from him his prey,whom God has purchased by the blood of Jesus Christ, His Son."

  Accordingly, the gentleman led this worthy man to where his wife lay ona little bed. She, thinking that it was the Friar who had beaten her,was much astonished to see him there and exceedingly wrathful; however,her husband being present, she cast down her eyes, and remained dumb.

  "As long as I am with her," said the husband to the holy man, "the devilscarcely torments her. But sprinkle some holy water upon her as soon asI am gone, and you will soon see how the evil spirit does his work."

  The husband left them alone together, and waited at the door to seehow they would behave. When the lady saw no one with her but the goodfather, she began to cry out like a woman bereft of reason, calling himrascal, villain, murderer, betrayer. At this, the good father, thinkingthat she was surely possessed by an evil spirit, tried to put his handsupon her head, in order to utter his prayers upon it; but she scratchedand bit him in such a fashion, that he was obliged to speak at a greaterdistance, whence, throwing a great deal of holy water upon her, hepronounced many excellent prayers.

  When the husband saw that the Friar had done his duty, he came into theroom and thanked him for his trouble. At his entrance his wife ceasedher cursings and revilings, and meekly kissed the cross in the fearshe had of him. But the holy man, having seen her in so great a frenzy,firmly believed that Our Lord had cast out the devil in answer to hisprayer, and he went away, praising God for this wonderful miracle.

  The husband, seeing that his wife was well punished for her foolishfancy, did not tell her of what he had done. He was content to havesubdued her affection by his own prudence, and to have so dealt with herthat she now hated mortally what she had formerly loved, and, loathingher folly, devoted herself to her husband and household more completelythan she had ever done before.

  "In this story, ladies, you see the good sense of a husband and thefrailty of a woman of repute. I think that if you look carefully intothis mirror you will no longer trust to your own strength, but willlearn to have recourse to Him who holds your honour in His hand."

  "I am well pleased," said Parlamente, "to find you become a preacher tothe ladies, and I should be even more so if you would make these finesermons to all those with whom you speak."

  "Whenever you are willing to listen to me," said Hircan, "I promise youthat I will say as much."

  "In other words," said Simontault, "when you are not present, he willspeak in a different fashion."

  "He will do as he pleases," said Parlamente, "but for my content I wishto believe that he always speaks in this way. At all events, the examplehe has brought forward will be profitable to those who believe thatspiritual love is not dangerous. In my opinion it is more so than anyother."

  "Yet," said Oisille, "it seems to me that to love a worthy, virtuous andGod-fearing man is in nowise a matter for scorn, and that one cannot butbe the better for it."

  "Madam," said Parlamente, "I pray you believe that no one can be moresimple or more easily deceived than a woman who has never loved. For initself love is a passion that seizes upon the heart before one is awareof it, and so pleasing a passion is it that, if it can make use ofvirtue as a cloak, it will scarcely be recognised before some mischiefhas come of it."

  "What mischief," asked Oisille, "can come of loving a worthy man?"

  "Madam," said Parlamente, "there are a good many men that are esteemedworthy, but to be worthy in respect of the ladies, and to be careful fortheir honour and conscience--not one such man as that could, I think, befound in these days. Those who think otherwise, and put their trust inmen, find at last that they have been deceived, and, having begun suchintimacy with obedience to God, will often end it with obedience to thedevil. I have known many who, under pretext of speaking about God, beganan intimacy from which they could not withdraw when at last they wishedto do so, being held in subjection by this semblance of virtue. Avicious love perishes of its own nature, and cannot continue in a goodheart, but virtuous love has bonds of silk so fine that one is caught inthem before they are seen."

  "According to you," said Ennasuite, "no woman should ever love a man;but your law is too harsh a one to last."

  "I know that," said Parlamente, "but none the less must I desire thatevery one were as content with her own husband as I am with mine."

  Ennasuite, who felt that these words touched her, changed colour andsaid--

  "You ought to believe every one the same at heart as yourself, unless,indeed, you think yourself more perfect than all others."

  "Well," said Parlamente, "to avoid dispute, let us see to whom Hircanwill give his vote."

  "I give it," Hircan replied, "to Ennasuite, in order to make amends toher for what my wife has said."

  "Then, since it is my turn," said Ennasuite, "I will spare neither mannor woman, that all may fare alike. I see right well that you are unableto subdue your hearts to acknowledge the virtue and goodness of men, forwhich reason I am obliged to resume the discourse with a story like tothe last."

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