_TALE XXX_.
_A young gentleman, of from fourteen to fifteen years of age, thought to lie with one of his mother's maids, but lay with his mother herself; and she, in consequence thereof, was, nine months afterwards, brought to bed of a daughter, who, twelve or thirteen years later, was wedded by the son; he being ignorant that she was his daughter and sister, and she, that he was her father and brother_.(1)
In the time of King Louis the Twelfth, the Legate at Avignon being thena scion of the house of Amboise, nephew to George, Legate of France, (2)there lived in the land of Languedoc a lady who had an income of morethan four thousand ducats a year, and whose name I shall not mention forthe love I bear her kinsfolk.
1 This story is based on an ancient popular tradition common to many parts of France, and some particulars of which, with a list of similar tales in various European languages, will be found in the Appendix, D.--En.
2 The Papal Legate in France here alluded to is the famous George, Cardinal d'Amboise, favourite minister of Louis XII. His nephew, the Legate at Avignon, is Louis d'Amboise, fourth son of Peter d'Amboise, Lord of Chaumont, and brother of the Grand-Master of Chaumont. Louis d'Amboise became bishop of Albi, and lieutenant-general of the King of France in Burgundy, Languedoc and Roussillon, and played an important part in the public affairs of his time. He died in 1505.--See _Gallia Christiana_, vol. i. p. 34.--L. and R. J.
While still very young, she was left a widow with one son; and, bothby reason of her regret for her husband and her love for her child, shedetermined never to marry again. To avoid all opportunity of doingso, she had fellowship only with the devout, for she imagined thatopportunity makes the sin, not knowing that sin will devise theopportunity.
This young widow, then, gave herself up wholly to the service of God,and shunned all worldly assemblies so completely that she scrupled tobe present at a wedding, or even to listen to the organs playing in achurch. When her son was come to the age of seven years, she chose forhis schoolmaster a man of holy life, so that he might be trained up inall piety and devotion.
When the son was reaching the age of fourteen or fifteen, Nature, who isa very secret schoolmaster, finding him in good condition and very idle,taught him a different lesson to any he had learned from his tutor.He began to look at and desire such things as he deemed beautiful, andamong others a maiden who slept in his mother's room. No one hadany suspicion of this, for he was looked upon as a mere child, and,moreover, in that household nothing save godly talk was ever heard.
This young gallant, however, began secretly soliciting the girl, whocomplained of it to her mistress. The latter had so much love for herson and so high an opinion of him, that she thought the girl spoke asshe did in order to make her hate him; but, being strongly urged by theother, she at last said--
"I shall find out whether it is true, and will punish him if it beas you say. But if, on the other hand, you are bringing an untruthfulaccusation against him, you shall suffer for it."
Then, in order to test the matter, she bade the girl make an appointmentwith her son that he might come and lie with her at midnight, in the bedin which she slept alone, beside the door of his mother's room.
The maid obeyed her mistress, who, when night came, took the girl'splace, resolved, if the story were true, to punish her son so severelythat he would never again lie with a woman without remembering it.
While she was thinking thus wrathfully, her son came and got into thebed, but although she beheld him do so, she could not yet believe thathe meditated any unworthy deed. She therefore refrained from speakingto him until he had given her some token of his evil intent, for notrifling matters could persuade her that his desire was actually acriminal one. Her patience, however, was tried so long, and her natureproved so frail that, forgetting her motherhood, her anger becametransformed into an abominable delight. And just as water that has beenrestrained by force rushes onward with the greater vehemence when it isreleased, so was it with this unhappy lady who had so prided herself onthe constraint she had put upon her body. After taking the first stepdownwards to dishonour, she suddenly found herself at the bottom, andthus that night she became pregnant by him whom she had thought torestrain from acting in similar fashion towards another.
No sooner was the sin accomplished than such remorse of conscience beganto torment her as filled the whole of her after-life with repentance.And so keen was it at the first, that she rose from beside her son--whostill thought that she was the maid--and entered a closet, where,dwelling upon the goodness of her intention and the wickedness of itsexecution, she spent the whole night alone in tears and lamentation.
But instead of humbling herself, and recognising the powerlessnessof our flesh, without God's assistance, to work anything but sin, shesought by her own tears and efforts to atone for the past, and by herown prudence to avoid mischief in the future, always ascribing her sinto circumstances and not to wickedness, for which there is no remedysave the grace of God. Accordingly she sought to act so as never againto fall into such wrongdoing; and as though there were but one sin thatbrought damnation in its train, she put forth all her strength to shunthat sin alone.
But the roots of pride, which acts of sin ought rather to destroy,grew stronger and stronger within her, so that in avoiding one evil shewrought many others. Early on the morrow, as soon as it was light, shesent for her son's preceptor, and said--
"My son is beginning to grow up, it is time to send him from home. Ihave a kinsman, Captain Monteson, (3) who is beyond the mountains withmy lord the Grand-Master of Chaumont, and he will be very glad to admithim into his company. Take him, therefore, without delay, and to spareme the pain of parting do not let him come to bid me farewell."
3 Monteson was one of the bravest captains of his time; as the comrade of Bayard, he greatly distinguished himself by his intrepidity in Louis XII.'s Italian campaigns. Some particulars concerning him will be found in M. Lacroix's edition of _Les Chroniques de Jean d'Anton_.--B. J. Respecting the Grand-Master of Chaumont, also mentioned above, see _ante_, vol ii., notes to Tale XIV.
So saying, she gave him money for the journey, and that very morningsent the young man away, he being right glad of this, for, afterenjoying his sweetheart, he asked nothing better than to set off to thewars.
The lady continued for a great while in deep sadness and melancholy,and, but for the fear of God, had many a time longed that the unhappyfruit of her womb might perish. She feigned sickness, in order that shemight wear a cloak and so conceal her condition; and having a bastardbrother, in whom she had more trust than in any one else, and upon whomshe had conferred many benefits, she sent for him when the time ofher confinement was drawing nigh, told him her condition (but withoutmentioning her son's part in it), and besought him to help her save herhonour. This he did, and, a few days before the time when she expectedto be delivered, he begged her to try a change of air and remove to hishouse, where she would recover her health more quickly than at home.Thither she went with but a very small following, and found there amidwife who had been summoned as for her brother's wife, and who onenight, without recognising her, delivered her of a fine little girl. Thegentleman gave the child to a nurse, and caused it to be cared for ashis own.
After continuing there for a month, the lady returned in sound healthto her own house, where she lived more austerely than ever in fasts anddisciplines. But when her son was grown up, he sent to beg his mother'spermission to return home, as there was at that time no war in Italy.She, fearing lest she should fall again into the same misfortune, wouldnot at first allow him, but he urged her so earnestly that at last shecould find no reason for refusing him. However, she instructed him thathe was not to appear before her until he was married to a woman whom hedearly loved; but to whose fortune he need give no heed, for it wouldsuffice if she were of gentle birth.
Meanwhile her bastard brother, finding that the daughter left
in hischarge had grown to be a tall maiden of perfect beauty, resolved toplace her in some distant household where she would not be known, andby the mother's advice she was given to Catherine, Queen of Navarre. (4)The maiden thus came to the age of twelve or thirteen years, and was sobeautiful and virtuous that the Queen of Navarre had great friendshipfor her, and much desired to marry her to one of wealth and station.Being poor, however, she found no husband, though she had lovers enoughand to spare.
4 This is Catherine, daughter of Gaston and sister of Francis Phoebus de Foix. On her brother's death, in 1483, she became Queen of Navarre, Duchess of Nemours and Countess of Foix and Bigorre, and in the following year espoused John, eldest son of Alan, Sire d'Albret. Catherine at this time was fourteen years old, and her husband, who by the marriage became King of Navarre, was only one year her senior. Their title to the crown was disputed by a dozen pretenders, for several years they exercised but a precarious authority, and eventually, in July 1512, Ferdinand the Catholic despatched the Duke of Alva to besiege Pamplona. On the fourth day of the siege John and Catherine succeeded in escaping from their capital, which, three days later, surrendered. Ferdinand, having sworn to maintain the _fueros_, was thereupon acknowledged as sovereign. However, it was only in 1516 that the former rulers were expelled from Navarrese territory. "Had I been Don Juan and you Donna Catherine," said the Queen to her pusillanimous husband, as they crossed the Pyrenees, "we should not have lost our kingdom." From this time forward the d'Albrets, like their successors the Bourbons, were sovereigns of Navarre in name only, for an attempt made in 1521 to reconquer the kingdom resulted in total failure, and their dominions were thenceforth confined to Beam, Bigorre, and Foix on the French side of the Pyrenees. Queen Catherine died in 1517, aged 47, leaving several children, the eldest of whom was Henry, Queen Margaret's second husband.--M., B. J., D. and Ed.
Now it happened one day that the gentleman who was her unknown fathercame to the house of the Queen of Navarre on his way back from beyondthe mountains, and as soon as he had set eyes on his daughter he fellin love with her, and having license from his mother to marry any womanthat might please him, he only inquired whether she was of gentle birth,and, hearing that she was, asked her of the Queen in marriage. The Queenwillingly consented, for she knew that the gentleman was not only richand handsome, but worshipful to boot.
When the marriage had been consummated, the gentleman again wrote tohis mother, saying that she could no longer close her doors against him,since he was bringing with him as fair a daughter-in-law as she coulddesire. The lady inquired to whom he had allied himself, and found thatit was to none other than their own daughter. Thereupon she fell intosuch exceeding sorrow that she nearly came by a sudden death, seeingthat the more she had striven to hinder her misfortune, the greater hadit thereby become.
Not knowing what else to do, she went to the Legate of Avignon, towhom she confessed the enormity of her sin, at the same time askinghis counsel as to how she ought to act. The Legate, to satisfy hisconscience, sent for several doctors of theology, and laid the matterbefore them, without, however, mentioning any names; and their advicewas that the lady should say nothing to her children, for they, beingin ignorance, had committed no sin, but that she herself should continuedoing penance all her life without allowing it to become known.
Accordingly, the unhappy lady returned home, where not long afterwardsher son and daughter-in-law arrived. And they loved each other somuch that never were there husband and wife more loving, nor yet moreresembling each other; for she was his daughter, his sister and hiswife, while he was her father, her brother and her husband. And thisexceeding love between them continued always; and the unhappy and deeplypenitent lady could never see them in dalliance together without goingapart to weep.
"You see, ladies, what befalls those who think that by their ownstrength and virtue they may subdue Love and Nature and all thefaculties that God has given them. It were better to recognise their ownweakness, and instead of running a-tilt against such an adversary, tobetake themselves to Him who is their true Friend, saying to Him in thewords of the Psalmist, 'Lord, I am afflicted very much; answer Thou forme.'" (5)
5 We have failed to find this sentence in the Psalms. Probably the reference is to _Isaiah_ xxxviii. 14, "O Lord, I am oppressed; undertake for me."--Eu.
"It were impossible," said Oisille "to hear a stranger story than this.Methinks every man and woman should bend low in the fear of God, seeingthat in spite of a good intention so much mischief came to pass."
"You may be sure," said Parlamente, "that the first step a man takes inself-reliance, removes him so far from reliance upon God."
"A man is wise," said Geburon, "when he knows himself to be his greatestenemy, and holds his own wishes and counsels in suspicion."
"Albeit the motive might seem to be a good and holy one," saidLongarine, "there were surely none, howsoever worthy in appearance, thatshould induce a woman to lie beside a man, whatever the kinship betweenthem, for fire and tow may not safely come together."
"Without question," said Ennasuite, "she must have been someself-sufficient fool, who, in her friar-like dreaming, deemed herself sosaintly as to be incapable of sin, just as many of the Friars would haveus believe that we can become, merely by our own efforts, which is anexceeding great error."
"Is it possible, Longarine," asked Oisille, "that there are peoplefoolish enough to hold such an opinion?"
"They go further than that," replied Longarine. "They say that we oughtto accustom ourselves to the virtue of chastity; and in order to trytheir strength they speak with the prettiest women they can find andwhom they like best, and by kissing and touching them essay whethertheir fleshly nature be wholly dead. When they find themselves stirredby such pleasure, they desist, and have recourse to fasts and grievousdiscipline. Then, when they have so far mortified their flesh thatneither speech nor kiss has power to move them, they make trial ofthe supreme temptation, that, namely, of lying together and embracingwithout any lustfulness. (6) But for one who has escaped, so many havecome to mischief, that the Archbishop of Milan, where this religiouspractice used to be carried on, (7) was obliged to separate them andplace the women in convents and the men in monasteries."
6 Robert d'Arbrissel, the founder of the abbey of Fontevrault (see ante, p. 74), was accused of this practice.--See the article Fontevraud in Desoer's edition of Bayle's Dictionary, vi. 508, 519.--M.
7 Queen Margaret possibly refers to some incidents which occurred at Milan in the early part of the fourteenth century, when Matteo and Galeazzo Visconti ruled the city. In Signor Tullio Dandolo's work, _Sui xxiii. libri delta Histories Patrice di Giuseppe Ripamonti ragionamento_ (Milano, 1856, pp. 52-60), will be found the story of a woman of the people, Guglielmina, and her accomplice, Andrea Saramita, who under some religious pretext founded a secret society of females. The debauchery practised by its members being discovered, Saramita was burnt alive, and Guglielmina's bones were disinterred and thrown into the fire. The Bishop of Milan at this time (1296-1308) was Francesco Fontana.--M.
"Truly," said Geburon, "it were the extremity of folly to seek tobecome sinless by one's own efforts, and at the same time to seek outopportunities for sin."
"There are some," said Saffredent, "who do the very opposite, and fleeopportunities for sin as carefully as they are able; nevertheless,concupiscence pursues them. Thus the good Saint Jerome, after scourgingand hiding himself in the desert, confessed that he could not escapefrom the fire that consumed his marrow. We ought, therefore, torecommend ourselves to God, for unless He uphold us by His power, we aregreatly prone to fall."
"You do not notice what I do," said Hircan. "While we were tellingour stories, the monks behind the hedge here heard nothing of thevesper-bell; whereas, now that we have begun to speak about God, theyhave taken themsel
ves off, and are at this moment ringing the secondbell."
"We shall do well to follow them," said Oisille, "and praise God forenabling us to spend this day in the happiest manner imaginable."
Hereat they rose and went to the church, where they piously heardvespers; after which they went to supper, discussing the discourses theyhad heard, and calling to mind divers adventures that had come to passin their own day, in order to determine which of them were worthy to berecounted. And after spending the whole evening in gladness, they betookthemselves to their gentle rest, hoping on the morrow to continue thispastime which was so agreeable to them.
And so was the Third Day brought to an end.
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APPENDIX.