The Heptameron Read online

  ‘So much for good looks!’ he groaned. ‘I suppose you’ve got what you deserve. I shouldn’t have expected so much from my appearance. Now it’s made me attempt something that I should have realized was impossible from the start. It might even make my situation worse, instead of making it better! If she realizes that it was I who did this senseless thing, breaking all the promises I had made, I know I shall lose even my privilege of visiting her chastely and openly. That’s what my vanity’s done for me! To make the most of my charm and good looks, and win her heart and her love, I ought not to have kept it so dark. I ought not to have tried to take her chaste body by force! I ought to have devoted myself to her service, in humility and with patience, accepting that I must wait till love should triumph. For without love, what good to a man are prowess and physical strength?’

  And so he sat the whole night through, weeping, gnashing his teeth and wishing the incident had never happened. In the morning he looked at himself again in the mirror; and seeing that his face was lacerated all over, he took to his bed, pretending he was desperately ill and could not bear to go out into the light. There he remained until his visitors had gone home.

  Meanwhile, the Princess was triumphant. She knew that the only person at her brother’s court who would dare to do such an extraordinary thing was the man who had already once made so bold as to declare his love. In other words, she knew perfectly well that the culprit was her host. With the help of her lady-in-waiting she looked round all the possible hiding-places in the room, without, of course, finding anybody. She was beside herself with rage. ‘I know very well who it is!’ she fumed. ‘It’s the master of the house himself! That’s the only person it can be. And mark my words, I shall speak to my brother in the morning, and I’ll have the man’s head as proof of my chastity!’

  Seeing how angry she was, her lady-in-waiting just said: ‘I am pleased to see that your honour means so much to you, Madame, and that in order to enhance it you have no intention of sparing this man’s life – he has already taken too many risks with it because of his violent love for you. But it very often happens that when people try to enhance their honour, they only end up doing the opposite. I would therefore urge you, Madame, to tell me the plain truth about the whole affair.’

  When she had heard the whole story, she asked: ‘Do you assure me that all he got from you was blows and scratches?’

  ‘I do assure you,’ came the reply, ‘that that was all he got, and unless he manages to find a very good doctor indeed, we’ll see the marks on his face tomorrow.’

  ‘Well, that being so,’ the old lady went on, ‘it seems to me that you should be thinking about giving thanks to the Lord, rather than talking about revenge. It must have taken some courage, you know, to make such a daring attempt, and at this moment he must be feeling so mortified by his failure, that death would be a good deal easier for him to bear! If what you want is revenge, then you should just leave him to his passion and his humiliation – he’ll torture himself much more than you could. And if you’re concerned about your honour, then be careful not to fall into the same trap as he did. He promised himself all kinds of pleasures and delights, and what he actually got was the worst disappointment that any gentleman could ever suffer. So take care, Madame – if you try to make your honour even more impressive, you may only end up doing the opposite. If you make an official complaint against him, you will have to bring the whole thing into the open, whereas at the moment nobody knows anything, and he certainly won’t go and tell anybody. What is more, just suppose you did go ahead, and Monseigneur, your brother, did bring the case to justice, and the poor man was put to death – people will say that he must have had his way with you. Most people will argue that it’s not very easy to accept that a man can carry out such an act, unless he has been given a certain amount of encouragement by the lady concerned. You’re young and attractive, you’re very lively and sociable in all kinds of company. There isn’t a single person at this court who hasn’t seen the encouraging way you treat the man you are now suspecting. That could only make people conclude that if he did indeed do what you say, then it couldn’t have been without some blame being due to you as well. Your honour, which up till now has been such that you’ve been able to hold your head high wherever you went, would be put in doubt wherever this story was heard.’

  As she listened to the wise reasonings of her lady-in-waiting, the Princess knew that what she was saying was true. She would indeed be criticized and blamed, in view of the encouraging and intimate way she had always treated the gentleman, so she asked her lady-in-waiting what she thought she ought to do.

  ‘It is most gracious of you, Madame,’ the old lady replied, ‘to heed my advice. You know that I have great affection for you. Well, it seems to me that you should rejoice in your heart that this man – and he is the most handsome and best-bred gentleman I saw in my life – has been completely unable to turn you from the path of virtue, in spite of his love for you, and in spite of using physical violence against you. For this you should humble yourself before God, and acknowledge that it was not your virtue that saved you. For there have been many women, women who have led a far more austere life than you have, who have been humiliated by men far less worthy of affection than the man we are talking of. From now on you should be even more cautious when men make overtures to you, and bear in mind that there are plenty of women who have escaped from danger the first time, only to succumb the second. Never forget that Love is blind, Madame, and descends upon his victims at the very moment when they are treading a path which they think is safe, but which in reality is slippery and treacherous. I think also that you should never allude in any way to what has happened, either to him or anyone else, and even if he were to bring it up, I think you should pretend not to understand what he is talking about. In this way there are two dangers that you will be able to avoid. First of all, there’s the danger of glorying in your triumph. And then there’s the danger that you might enjoy being reminded of the pleasures of the flesh. Even the most chaste of women have a hard time preventing some spark of pleasure being aroused by such things, however much they strive to avoid them. Finally, Madame, so that he should not get it into his head that you in some way enjoyed what he tried to do, I would advise you to gradually stop seeing so much of him. In that way you will bring home to him what a low opinion you have of his foolish and wicked behaviour. At the same time he will be brought to see what a good person you are to have been satisfied with the triumph that God has already granted you, without seeking any further revenge. May God grant you the grace, Madame, to continue in the path of virtue wherein he has placed you, to continue to love and to serve Him even better than hitherto, in the knowledge that it is from Him alone that all goodness flows.’

  The Princess made up her mind to follow the wise counsel of her lady-in-waiting, and slept peacefully for the rest of the night, while the wretched gentleman below spent a night of sleepless torment.

  The next day the Princess’s brother was ready to depart, and asked if he could take his leave of the master of the house. He was astonished to hear that he was ill, could not tolerate the light of day and refused to be seen by anyone. He would have gone to see him, but was told that he was sleeping, and decided not to disturb him. So together with his wife and his sister he left the house without being able to say goodbye. When his sister, the Princess, heard about their host’s excuses for not seeing them before they left, she knew for certain that he was the one who had caused her so much distress. Obviously he did not dare to show his face because of the scratches he had received. Indeed, he refused all subsequent invitations to attend court until all his wounds – except, that is, for those he had suffered to his heart and to his pride – had healed. When eventually he did go back to court to face his triumphant enemy, he could not do so without blushing. He, who was the boldest man at court, would completely lose his self-assurance in her presence, and would frequently go quite to pieces. This only made the Princess the mor
e sure that her suspicions had been well-founded. Gently, and little by little, she withdrew her attentions – but not so gently that he failed to appreciate what she was doing. Scared lest anything worse befell him; he dared not breathe a word. He simply had to nurse his passion in the depths of his heart, and put up with a rebuff that had been justly deserved.

  *

  ‘And that, Ladies, is a story that should strike fear into the hearts of any man who thinks he can help himself to what doesn’t belong to him. The Princess’s virtue and the good sense of her lady-in-waiting should inspire courage in the hearts of all women. So if anything like this should ever happen to any of you, you now know what the remedy is!’

  ‘In my opinion,’ said Hircan, ‘the tall lord of your story lacked nerve, and didn’t deserve to have his memory preserved. What an opportunity he had! He should never have been content to eat or sleep till he’d succeeded. And one really can’t say that his love was very great, if there was still room in his heart for the fear of death and dishonour.’

  ‘And what,’ asked Nomerfide, ‘could the poor man have done with two women against him?’

  ‘He should have killed the old one, and when the young one realized there was no one to help her, he’d have been half-way there!’

  ‘Kill her!’ Nomerfide cried. ‘You wouldn’t mind him being a murderer as well, then? If that’s what you think, we’d better watch out we don’t fall into your clutches!’

  ‘If I’d gone that far,’ he replied, ‘I’d consider my honour ruined if I didn’t go through with it!’

  Then Geburon spoke up: ‘So you find it strange that a princess of high birth who’s been brought up in the strict school of honour should be too much for one man? In that case you’d find it even stranger that a woman of poor birth should manage to get away from two men!’

  ‘I invite you to tell the fifth story, Geburon,’ said Ennasuite, ‘because it sounds as if you have one about some poor woman that will be far from dull.’

  ‘Since you’ve chosen me [to speak],’ he began, ‘I shall tell a story that I know to be true because I conducted an inquiry into it at the very place where it happened. As you’ll see, it isn’t only princesses who’ve got good sense in their heads and virtue in their heart. And love and resourcefulness aren’t always to be found where you’d expect them, either.’

  STORY FIVE

  At the port of Coulon near Niort, there was once a woman whose job it was to ferry people night and day across the river. One day she found herself alone in her boat with two Franciscan friars from Niort. Now this is one of the longest crossings on any river in France, and the two friars took it into their heads that she would find it less boring if they made amorous proposals to her. But, as was only right and proper, she refused to listen. However, the two were not to be deterred. They had not exactly had their strength sapped by rowing, nor their ardours chilled by the chilly water nor, indeed, their consciences pricked by the woman’s refusals. So they decided to rape her, both of them, and if she resisted, to throw her into the river. But she was as sensible and shrewd as they were vicious and stupid.

  ‘I’m not as ungracious as you might think,’ she said to them, ‘and if you’ll just grant me two little things, you’ll see I’m just as keen to do what you want as you are.’

  The Cordeliers swore by the good Saint Francis that they’d let her have anything she asked for, if she’d just let them have what they wanted.

  ‘First of all, you must promise on your oath that neither of you will tell a soul about it,’ she said.

  To this they readily agreed.

  ‘Secondly, you must do what you want with me one at a time – I’d be too embarrassed to have both of you looking at me. So decide between you who’s to have me first.’

  They thought this too was a very reasonable request, and the younger of the two offered to let the older man go first. As they sailed past a small island in the river, the ferrywoman said to the younger one: ‘Now my good father, jump ashore and say your prayers while I take your friend here to another island. If he’s satisfied with me when he gets back, we’ll drop him off here, and then you can come with me.’

  So he jumped out of the boat to wait on the island till his companion came back. The ferry woman then took the other one to another island in the river, and while she pretended to be making the boat fast to a tree, told him to go and find a convenient spot.

  He jumped out, and went off to look for a good place. No sooner was he on dry land than the ferrywoman shoved off with a kick against the tree, and sailed off down the river, leaving the two good friars stranded.

  ‘You can wait till God sends an angel to console you, Messieurs!’ she bawled at them. ‘You’re not going to get anything out of me today!’

  The poor friars saw they had been hoodwinked. They ran to the water’s edge and pleaded on bended knees that she would take them to the port. They promised not to ask her for any more favours. But she went on rowing, and called back: ‘I’d be even more stupid to let myself get caught again, now I’ve escaped!’

  As soon as she landed on the other side, she went into the village, fetched her husband and called out the officers of the law to go and round up these two ravenous wolves, from whose jaws she had just by the grace of God been delivered. They had plenty of willing helpers. There was no one in the village, great or small, who was not anxious to join in the hunt and have his share of the fun. When the two good brothers, each on his own island, saw this huge band coming after them, they did their best to hide – even as Adam hid from the presence of the Lord God, when he saw that he was naked. They were half dead for shame at this exposure of their sins, and trembled in terror at the thought of the punishment that surely awaited them. But there was nothing they could do. They were seized and bound, and led through the village to the shouts and jeers of every man and woman in the place. Some people said: ‘There they go, those good fathers who preach chastity to us yet want to take it from our wives!* Others said: ‘They are whited sepulchres, outwardly beautiful, but within full of dead men’s bones and all uncleanness!’ And someone else called out, ‘Every tree is known by his own fruit!’ In fact, they hurled at the two captives every text in the Gospels that condemns hypocrites. In the end their Father Superior came to the rescue. He lost no time in requesting their custody, reassuring the officers of the law that he would punish them more severely than secular law could. By way of reparation, they would, he promised, be made to say as many prayers and masses as might be required! [The Father Superior was a worthy man, so the judge granted his request and sent the two prisoners back to their convent, where they were brought before the full Chapter and severely reprimanded.] Never again did they take a ferry across a river, without making the sign of the cross and commending their souls to God!

  *

  ‘Now consider this story carefully, Ladies. We have here a humble ferrywoman who had the sense to frustrate the evil intentions of two vicious men. What then ought we to expect from women who all their lives have seen nothing but good examples, read of nothing but good examples and, in short, had examples of feminine virtue constantly paraded before them? If well-fed women are virtuous, is it not just as much a matter of custom as of virtue? But it’s quite another matter if your’re talking about women who have no education, who probably don’t hear two decent sermons in a year, who have time for nothing but thinking how to make a meagre living, and who, in spite of all this, diligently resist all pressures in order to preserve their chastity. It is in the heart of such women as these that one finds pure virtue, for in the hearts of those we regard as inferior in body and mind the spirit of God performs his greatest works. Woe to those women who do not guard their treasure with the utmost care, for it is a treasure that brings them great honour if it is well guarded and great dishonour if it is squandered!’

  ‘If you ask me, Geburon,’ observed Longarine, ‘there’s nothing very virtuous in rejecting the advances of a friar. I don’t know how anyone could poss
ibly feel any affection at all for them.’

  ‘Longarine,’ he replied, ‘women who are not so used as you are to having refined gentlemen to serve them find friars far from unpleasant. They’re often just as good-looking as we are, just as well-built and less worn out, because they’ve not been knocked about in battle. What is more, they talk like angels and are as persistent as devils. That’s why I think that any woman who’s seen nothing better than the coarse cloth of monks’ habits should be considered extremely virtuous if she manages to escape their clutches.’

  ‘Good Heavens!’ exclaimed Nomerfide loudly. ‘You may say what you like, but I’d rather be thrown in the river any day, than go to bed with a friar!’

  ‘So you’re a strong swimmer, are you then!’* said Oisille, laughing.

  Nomerfide took this in bad part, thinking that Oisille did not give her as much credit as she would have liked, and said heatedly: ‘There are plenty of people who’ve refused better men than friars, without blowing their trumpets about it!’

  ‘Yes, and they’ve been even more careful not to beat their drums about ones they’ve accepted and given in to!’ retorted Oisille, amused to see that she was annoyed.

  ‘I can see that Nomerfide would like to speak,’ Geburon intervened, ‘so I invite her to take over from me, in order that she may unburden herself by telling us a good story.’

  ‘I couldn’t care less about people’s remarks,’ she snapped, ‘they neither please nor annoy me. But since you ask me to speak, will you listen carefully, because I want to tell a story to show you that women can exercise their [cleverness] for bad purposes as well as for good ones. As we’ve sworn to tell the truth, I have no desire to conceal it. After all, just as the ferry-woman’s virtue does not redound to the honour of other women unless they actually follow in her footsteps, so the vice of one woman does not bring dishonour on all other women. So, if you will listen…’