Juliet of Narbona, _cured the King of France of a daungerous Fistula,in recompence whereof, she requested to enjoy as her husband inmarriage,_ Bertrand _the Count of_ Roussillion. _Hee having married heragainst his will, as utterly despising her, went to Florence, where hemade love to a young Gentlewoman._ Juliet, _by a queint and cunningpolicy, compassed the meanes (insted of his chosen new friend) to lyewith her owne husband, by whom shee conceived, and had two Sonnes;which being afterward made knowne unto Count_ Bertrand, _he acceptedher into his favour again, and loved her as his loyall and honourablewife._
The Ninth Novell.
_Commending the good judgement and understanding in Ladies orGentlewomen, that are of a quicke and apprehensive spirit._
Now there remained no more (to preserve the priviledge granted to_Dioneus_ uninfringed) but the Queene onely, to declare her Novell.Wherefore, when the discourse of Madam _Lauretta_ was ended, withoutattending any motion to bee made for her next succeeding, with agracious and pleasing disposition, thus she began to speake. Who shalltell any Tale heereafter, to carry any hope or expectation of liking,having heard the rare and wittie discourse of Madame _Lauretta_?Beleeve me, it was verie advantageable to us all, that she was not thisdayes first beginner, because few or none would have had any courage tofollow after her, & therefore the rest yet remaining, are the more tobe feared and suspected. Neverthelesse, to avoid the breach of order,and to claime no priviledge by my place, of not performing what I oughtto do: prove as it may, a Tale you must have, and thus I proceed.
There lived sometime in the kingdom of _France_, a Gentleman named_Isnarde_, being the Count of _Roussillion_, who because hee wascontinually weake, crazie and sickly, kept a Physitian daily in hishouse, who was called Master _Gerard_ of _Narbona_. Count _Isnarde_ hadone onely Sonne, very young in yeares, yet of towardly hope, faire,comely, and of pleasing person, named _Bertrand_; with whom, many otherchildren of his age, had their education: and among them, a daughter ofthe fore-named Physitian, called _Juliet_; who, even in these tenderyeares, fixed her affection upon yong _Bertrand_, with such an earnestand intimate resolution, as was most admirable in so yong a maiden,and more then many times is noted in yeares of greater discretion. OldCount _Isnard_ dying, yong _Bertrand_ fell as a Ward to the King, andbeing sent to _Paris_, remained there under his royall custodie andprotection, to the no little discomfort of yong _Juliet_, who becamegreevously afflicted in minde, because shee had lost the company of_Bertrand_.
Within some few yeeres after, the Physitian her Father also dyed, andthen her desires grew wholly addicted, to visite _Paris_ her selfe inperson, onely because she would see the yong Count, awaiting but time& opportunitie, to fit her stolne journey thither. But her kindredand friends, to whose care and trust she was committed, in regardof her rich dowrie, and being left as a fatherlesse Orphane: wereso circumspect of her walks and daily behaviour, as she could notcompasse any meanes of escaping. Her yeeres made her now almost fit formarriage, which so much more encreased her love to the Count, makingrefusall of many woorthie husbands, and laboured by the motions of herfriends and kindred, yet all denyed, they not knowing any reason forher refusalles. By this time the Count was become a gallant goodlyGentleman, and able to make election of a wife, whereby her affectionswere the more violently enflamed, as fearing least some other should bepreferred before her, & so her hopes be utterly disappointed.
It was noysed abroad by common report, that the King of _France_ wasin a very dangerous condition, by reason of a strange swelling onhis stomacke, which failing of apt and convenient curing, became aFistula, afflicting him daily with extraordinary paine and anguish, noChirurgeon or Physitian being found, that could minister any hope ofhealing, but rather encreased the greefe, and drove it to more vehementextreamitie, compelling the King, as dispairing utterly of all helpe,to give over any further counsell or advice. Heereof faire _Juliet_ waswondrously joyful, as hoping that this accident would prove the meanes,not only of hir journey to _Paris_, but if the disease were no morethen shee imagined; shee could easily cure it, and thereby compasseCount _Bertrand_ to be her husband. Heereupon, quickning up her wits,with remembrance of those rules of Art, which (by long practise andexperience) she had learned of her skilfull Father, shee compoundedcertaine hearbes together, such as she knew fitting for that kinde ofinfirmity, and having reduced hir compound into a powder, away she rodeforthwith to Paris.
Being there arrived, all other serious matters set aside, first sheemust needs have a sight of Count _Bertrand_, as being the onely Saintthat caused her pilgrimage. Next she made meanes for her accesseto the King, humbly entreating his Majesty, to vouchsafe her thesight of his Fistula. When the King saw her, her modest lookes didplainly deliver, that she was a faire, comely, and discreete youngGentlewoman; wherefore, hee would no longer hide it, but layed itopen to her view. When shee had seene and felt it, presently sheput the King in comfort; affirming, that she knew her selfe able tocure his Fistula, saying: Sir, if your Highnesse will referre thematter to me, without any perill of life, or any the least paine toyour person, I hope (by the helpe of heaven) to make you whole andsound within eight dayes space. The King hearing her words, begannemerrily to smile at her, saying: How is it possible for thee, beinga yong Maiden, to do that which the best Physitians in Europe, arenot able to performe? I commend thy kindnesse, and will not remaineunthankefull for thy forward willingnesse: but I am fully determined,to use no more counsell, or to make any further triall of Physicke orChirurgery. Whereto faire _Juliet_ thus replied: Great King, let not myskill and experience be despised, because I am young, and a Maiden; formy profession is not Physicke, neither do I undertake the ministeringthereof, as depending on mine owne knowledge; but by the graciousassistance of heaven, & some rules of skilfull observation, which Ilearned of reverend _Gerard_ of _Narbona_, who was my worthy Father,and a Physitian of no meane fame, all the while he lived.
At the hearing of these words, the King began somewhat to admire ather gracious carriage, and saide within himselfe. What know I, whetherthis virgin is sent to me by the direction of heaven, or no? Why shouldI disdaine to make proofe of her skill? Her promise is, to cure meein a small times compasse, and without any paine or affliction to me:she shall not come so farre, to returne againe with the losse of herlabour, I am resolved to try her cunning, and thereon saide. FaireVirgin, if you cause me to breake my setled determination, and faileof curing mee, what can you expect to follow thereon? Whatsoever greatKing (quoth she) shall please you. Let me bee strongly guarded, yet nothindred, when I am to prosecute the businesse: and then if I doe notperfectly heale you within eight daies, let a good fire be made, andtherein consume my bodie unto ashes. But if I accomplish the cure, andset your Highnesse free from all further greevance, what recompencethen shall remaine to me?
Much did the King commend the confident perswasion which she had of herowne power, and presently replyed. Faire beauty (quoth he) in regardthat thou art a Maide and unmarried, if thou keepe promise, and I findemy selfe to be fully cured: I will match thee with some such Gentlemanin marriage, as shal be of honourable and worthy reputation, with asufficient dowry beside. My gracious Soveraigne saide she, willing amI, and most heartily thankful withall, that your Highnesse shal bestowme in marriage: but I desire then, to have such a husband, as I shaldesire or demand by your gracious favour, without presuming to craveany of your Sonnes, Kindred, or Alliance, or appertaining unto yourRoyall blood. Whereto the King gladly granted. Young _Juliet_ began tominister her Physicke, and within fewer dayes then her limited time,the King was sound and perfectly cured; which when he perceyved, heesayd unto her. Trust me vertuous Mayde, most woorthily hast thou wonnea Husband, name him, and thou shalt have him. Royall King (quoth she)then have I won the Count _Bertrand_ of _Roussillion_, whom I havemost entirely loved from mine Infancy, and cannot (in my soule) affectany other. Very loath was the King to grant her the young Count, but inregard of his solemne passed promise, and his royal word engaged, whichhe would not by any meanes breake; he c
ommanded, that the Count shouldbe sent for, and spake thus to him.
Noble Count, it is not unknowne to us, that you are a Gentlemanof great honour, and it is our royall pleasure, to discharge yourwardship, that you may repaire home to your owne House, there to settleyour affaires in such order, as you may be the readier to enjoy a Wife,which we intend to bestow upon you. The Count returned his Highnessemost humble thankes, desiring to know of whence, and what shee was? Itis this Gentlewoman, answered the King, who (by the helpe of Heaven)hath beene the meanes to save my life. Well did the Count know her, ashaving very often before seene her; and although shee was very faireand amiable, yet in regard of her meane birth, which he held as adisparagement to his Nobility in bloud; he made a scorne of her, andspake thus to the King. Would your Highnesse give me a Quacksalver tomy Wife, one that deales in drugges and Physicarie? I hope I am able tobestow my selfe much better then so. Why? quoth the King, wouldst thouhave us breake our faith; which for the recovery of our health, weehave given to this vertuous virgin, and shee will have no other reward,but onely Count _Bertrand_ to be her husband? Sir, replied the Count,you may dispossesse me of all that is mine, because I am your Ward andSubject, and any where elsee you may bestow me: but pardon me to tellyou, that this marriage cannot be made with any liking or allowance ofmine, neither will I ever give consent thereto.
Sir, saide the King, it is our will that it shall be so, vertuous sheis, faire and wise; she loveth thee most affectionately, and withher mayest thou leade a more Noble life, then with the greatest Ladyin our Kingdome. Silent, and discontented stoode the Count, but theKing commaunded preparation for the marriage; and when the appointedtime was come, the Count (albeit against his will) received his wifeat the Kings hand; she loving him deerely as her owne life. When allwas done, the Count requested of the King, that what elsee remainedfor further solemnization of the marriage, it might be performed inhis owne Countrey, reserving to himselfe what elsee he intended. Beingmounted on horseback, and humbly taking their leave of the King, theCount would not ride home to his owne dwelling, but into _Tuscany_,where he heard of a warre betweene the _Florentines_ and the _Senesi_,purposing to take part with the _Florentines_, to whom he was willinglyand honourably welcommed, being created Captain of a worthy Company,and continuing there a long while in service.
The poore forsaken new married Countesse, could scarsely be pleasedwith such dishonourable unkindnes, yet governing her impatience withno meane discretion, and hoping by her vertuous carriage, to compassethe meanes of his recall: home she rode to _Roussillion_, where all thepeople received her very lovingly. Now, by reason of the Counts so longabsence, all things were there farre out of order; mutinies, quarrelse,and civill dissentions, having procured many dissolute irruptions,to the expence of much blood in many places. But shee, like a jollystirring Lady, very wise and provident in such disturbances, reducedall occasions to such civility againe, that the people admired her rarebehaviour, and condemned the Count for his unkindnesse towards her.
After that the whole countrey of _Roussillion_ (by the policy andwisedome of this worthy Lady was fully re-established) in their ancientliberties; she made choise of two discreet knights, whom she sent tothe Count her husband, to let him understand, that if in displeasureto her, hee was thus become a stranger to his owne countrey: uponthe return of his answer, to give him contentment, shee would departthence, and by no meanes disturbe him. Roughly and churlishly hereplied; Let her doe as she list, for I have no determination to dwelwith her, or neere where she is. Tell her from me, when she shall havethis Ring, which you behold heere on my finger, and a sonne in herarmes begotten by me; then will I come live with her, and be her love.The Ring he made most precious and deere account of, and never tookeit off from his finger, in regard of an especial vertue and property,which he well knew to be remaining in it. And these two Knights,hearing the impossibility of these two strict conditions, with no otherfavour elsee to be derived from him; sorrowfully returned backe totheir Ladie, and acquainted her with this unkinde answer, as also hisunalterable determination, which wel you may conceive, must needs beverie unwelcome to her.
After she had an indifferent while considered with her selfe, herresolution became so undauntable; that she would adventure to practisesuch meanes, whereby to compasse those two apparant impossibilities,and so to enjoy the love of her husband. Having absolutely concludedwhat was to be done, she assembled all the cheefest men of the country,revealing unto them (in mournfull manner) what an attempt she had madealready, in hope of recovering her husbands favour, and what a rudeanswer was thereon returned. In the end, she told them, that it didnot sute with her unworthinesse, to make the Count live as an exilefrom his owne inheritance, upon no other inducement, but only in regardof her: wherefore, she had determined betweene heaven and her soule,to spend the remainder of her dayes in Pilgrimages and prayers, forpreservation of the Counts soule and her owne; earnestly desiring them,to undertake the charge and government of the Countrey, and signifyingunto the Count, how she had forsaken his house, and purposed to wanderso far thence, that never would she visite _Roussillion_ any more. Inthe deliverie of these words, the Lords and gentlemen wept and sighedextraordinarily, using many earnest imprecations to alter this resolvein her, but all was in vaine.
Having taken her sad and sorrowfull farewell of them all, accompaniedonely with her Maide, and one of her Kinsmen, away she went, attired ina Pilgrims habite, yet well furnished with money and precious Jewelse,to avoide all wants which might befall her in travaile; not acquaintingany one whether she went. In no place stayed she, untill she wasarrived at Florence, where happening into a poore Widdowes house, likea poore Pilgrim, she seemed well contented therewith. And desiring toheare some tydings of the Count, the next day she saw him passe bythe house on horse-backe, with his company. Now, albeit shee knew himwell enough, yet she demanded of the good old Widdow, what Gentlemanhe was? She made answer, that he was a stranger there, yet a Nobleman,called Count _Bertrand_ of _Roussillion_, a verie courteous Knight,beloved and much respected in the City. Moreover, that he was farre inlove with a neighbour of hers, a yong Gentlewoman, but verie poore andmeane in substance, yet of honest life, vertuous, and never taxed withany evill report: onely her povertie was the maine imbarment of hermarriage, dwelling in house with her mother, who was a wise, honest,and worthy Lady.
The Countesse having wel observed her words, and considered thereonfrom point to point; debated soberly with her owne thoughts, in such adoubtfull case what was best to be done. When she had understood whichwas the house, the ancient Ladies name, and likewise her daughters, towhom her husband was now so affectionately devoted; she made choiseof a fit and convenient time, when (in her Pilgrims habit), secretlyshe went to the house. There she found the mother and daughter inpoore condition, and with as poore a family: whom after she hadceremoniously saluted, she told the old Lady, that shee requested but alittle conference with her. The Ladie arose, and giving her courteousentertainment, they went together into a withdrawing chamber, wherebeing both set downe, the Countesse began in this manner.
Madame, in my poore opinion, you are not free from the frownes ofFortune, no more then I my selfe am: but if you were so well pleased,there is no one that can comfort both our calamities in such manner,as you are able to do. And beleeve me answered the Lady, there isnothing in the world that can bee so welcome to mee, as honestcomfort. The Countesse proceeding on in her former speeches said: Ihave now need (good Madame) both of your trust and fidelity, whereonif I should rely, and you faile me, it will be your owne undooing aswell as mine. Speake then boldly, replied the olde Ladie, and remaineconstantly assured, that you shall no way be deceived by me. Heereupon,the Countesse declared the whole course of her love, from the verieoriginall to the instant, revealing also what she was, and the occasionof her comming thither, relating every thing so perfectly, that theLadie verily beleeved her, by some reports which she had formerlyheard, and which mooved her the more to compassion. Now, when allcircumstances were at full
discovered, thus spake the Countesse.
Among my other miseries and misfortunes, which hath halfe brokenmy heart in the meere repetition, beside the sad and afflictingsufferance; two things there are, which if I cannot compasse to have,all hope is quite frustrate for ever, of gaining the grace of my Lordand Husband. Yet those two things may I obtaine by your helpe, if allbe true which I have heard, and you can therein best resolve mee.Since my comming to this City, it hath credibly bene told me, that theCount my husband, is deeply in love with your daughter. If the Count(quoth the Ladie) love my daughter, and have a wife of his owne, hemust thinke, and so shall surely finde it, that his greatnesse is nopriviledge for him, whereby to worke dishonour upon her poverty. Butindeed, some apparances there are, and such a matter as you speake of,may be so presumed; yet so farre from a very thought of entertaining inher or me; as whatsoever I am able to do, to yeeld you any comfort andcontent, you shall find me therein both willing and ready: for I prizemy daughters spotles poverty as at high a rate, as he can do the prideof his honour.
Madam, quoth the Countesse, most heartily I thanke you. But before Ipresume any further on your kindnesse, let me first tell you, whatfaithfully I intend to do for you, if I can bring my purpose to effect.I see that your daughter is beautifull, and of sufficient yeares formariage; and is debarred thereof (as I have heard) onely by lack of acompetent dowry. Wherefore Madame, in recompence of the favour I expectfrom you, I will enrich her with so much ready money as you shallthinke sufficient to match her in the degree of honour. Poverty made thepoore Lady, very well to like of such a bountifull offer, and havinga noble heart she said: Great Countesse say, wherein am I able to doyou any service, as can deserve such a gracious offer? If the actionbee honest, without blame or scandall to my poore, yet undejectedreputation, gladly I will do it; and it being accomplished, let therequitall rest in your owne noble nature.
Observe me then Madam, replyed the Countesse. It is most convenient formy purpose, that by some trusty and faithfull messenger, you shouldadvertise the Count my husband, that your daughter is, and shall be athis command: but because she may remain absolutely assured, that hislove is constant to her, and above all other: shee must entreate him,to send her (as a testimony thereof) the Ring which he weareth uponhis little finger, albeit she hath heard, that he loveth it dearly.If he send the Ring, you shal give it me, & afterward send him word,that your daughter is readie to accomplish his pleasure; but, for themore safety and secrecie, he must repaire hither to your house, whereI being in bed insted of your daughter, faire Fortune may so favourmee, that (unknowne to him) I may conceive with childe. Uppon whichgood successe, when time shall serve, having the Ring on my finger,and a child in my armes begotten by him, his love and liking may beerecovered, and (by your meanes) I continue with my Husband, as everievertuous Wife ought to doe.
The good old Ladie imagined, that this was a matter somewhatdifficult, and might lay a blamefull imputation on her daughter:Neverthelesse, considering, what an honest office it was in her, to beethe meanes, whereby so worthy a Countesse should recover an unkindehusband, led altogether by lust, and not a jot of cordiall love; sheknew the intent to be honest, the Countesse vertuous, and her promisereligious, and therefore undertooke to effect it. Within few dayesafter, verie ingeniously, and according to the instructed order,the Ring was obtained, albeit much against the Counts will; and theCountesse, in sted of the Ladies vertuous daughter, was embraced by himin bed: the houre proving so auspicious, and _Juno_ being Lady of theascendent, conjoyned with the witty _Mercury_, she conceived of twogoodly Sonnes, and her deliverance agreed correspondently with the justtime.
Thus the old Lady, not at this time only, but at many other meetingsbeside; gave the Countesse free possession of her husbands pleasures,yet alwayes in such darke and concealed secrecie, as it was neversuspected, nor knowne by any but themselves, the Count lying with hisowne wife, and disappointed of her whom he more deerely loved. Alwayesat his uprising in the mornings (which usually was before the breakeof day, for preventing the least scruple of suspition) many familiarconferences passed betweene them, with the gifts of divers faire andcostly Jewelse; all which the Countesse carefully kept, and perceivingassuredly, that shee was conceived with childe, she would no longerbee troublesome to the good old Lady; but calling her aside, spakethus to her. Madam, I must needs give thankes to heaven and you,because my desires are amply accomplished, and both time and yourdeserts doe justly challenge, that I should accordingly quite youbefore my departure. It remaineth nowe in your owne power, to makewhat demand you please of me, which yet I will not give you by way ofreward, because that would seeme to bee base and mercenary: but onelywhatsoever you shall receive of me, is in honourable recompence offaire & vertuous deservings, such as any honest and well-minded Lady inthe like distresse, may with good credit allow, and yet no prejudice toher reputation.
Although poverty might well have tutored the Ladies tongue, to demanda liberall recompence for her paines; yet she requested but an 100pounds, as a friendly helpe towards her daughters marriage, and thatwith a bashfull blushing was uttered too; yet the Countesse gave hirfive hundred pounds, beside so many rich and costly Jewelse, as amountedto a farre greater summe. So she returned to her wonted lodging, at theaged widdowes house, where first she was entertained at her commingto _Florence_; and the good old Lady, to avoide the Counts repairingto her house any more, departed thence sodainly with her daughter, todivers friends of hers that dwelt in the Country, whereat the Countwas much discontented; albeit afterward, he did never heare any moretidings of hir or her daughter, who was worthily married, to herMothers great comfort.
Not long after, Count _Bertrand_ was re-called home by his people: andhe having heard of his wives absence, went to _Roussillion_ so much themore willingly. And the Countesse knowing her husbands departure from_Florence_, as also his safe arrivall at his owne dwelling, remainedstill in _Florence_, untill the time of her deliverance, which wasof two goodly Sonnes, lively resembling the lookes of their Father,and all the perfect lineaments of his body. Perswade your selves, shewas not a little carefull of their nursing; and when she saw the timeanswerable to her determination, she tooke her journey (unknowne toany) and arrived with them at _Montpellier_, where shee rested herselfe for divers dayes, after so long and wearisome a journey.
Upon the day of all Saints, the Count kept a solemne Festivall, for theassembly of his Lords, Knights, Ladies, and Gentlewomen: uppon whichJoviall day of generall rejoycing, the Countesse attired in her wontedPilgrimes weed, repaired thither, entering into the great Hall, wherethe Tables were readily covered for dinner. Preassing thorough thethrong of people, with her two children in her armes, she presumed untothe place where the Count sate, & falling on her knees before him, theteares trickling abundantly downe her cheekes, thus she spake. WorthyLord, I am thy poor, despised, and unfortunate wife; who, that thoumightst returne home, and not bee an exile from thine owne abiding,have thus long gone begging through the world. Yet now at length, Ihope thou wilt be so honourably-minded, as to performe thine own toostrict imposed conditions, made to the two Knights which I sent untothee, and which (by thy command) I was enjoyned to do. Behold here inmine armes, not onely one Sonne by thee begotten, but two Twins, andthy Ring beside. High time is it now, if men of honour respect theirpromises, that after so long and tedious travell, I should at last beewelcommed as thy true wife.
The Counte hearing this, stoode as confounded with admiration; for fullwell he knew the Ring: and both the children were so perfectly likehim, as he was confirmed to be their Father by generall judgement.Upon his urging by what possible meanes this could be broght topasse: the Countesse in presence of the whole assembly, and unto hereternall commendation, related the whole history, even in such manneras you have formerly heard it. Moreover, she reported the privatespeeches in bed, uttered betweene himselfe and her, being witnessedmore apparantly, by the costly Jewelse there openly shewn. All whichinfallible proofes, proclaiming his shame, and her most noble carriageto
her husband; hee confessed, that she had told nothing but the truthin every point which she had reported.
Commending her admirable constancy, excellency of wit, & sprightlycourage, in making such a bold adventure; hee kissed the two sweeteboyes, and to keepe his promise, whereto he was earnestly importuned,by all his best esteemed friends there present, especially thehonourable Ladies, who would have no deniall, but by forgetting hisformer harsh and uncivill carriage towardes her, to accept her forever as his lawfull wife: folding her in his armes, and sweetlykissing her divers times together, he bad her welcome to him, as hisvertuous, loyall, & most loving wife, and so (for ever after) he wouldacknowledge her. Well knew he that she had store of better beseeminggarments in the house, and therefore requested the Ladies to walke withher to her Chamber, to uncase her of those pilgrimes weeds, and cloathher in her owne more sumptuous garments, even those which she wore onher wedding day, because that was not the day of his contentment, butonely this: for now he confessed her to be his wife indeede, and now hewould give the King thanks for her, and now was Count _Bertrand_ trulymarried to the faire _Juliet_ of _Narbona_.