_TALE XXXI_.
_A monastery of Grey Friars was burned down, with the monks that were in it, as a perpetual memorial of the cruelty practised by one among them that was in love with a lady_.
In the lands subject to the Emperor Maximilian of Austria (1) there wasa monastery of Grey Friars that was held in high repute, and nigh to itstood the house of a gentleman who was so kindly disposed to thesemonks that he could withhold nothing from them, in order to share in thebenefits of their fastings and disciplines. Among the rest there wasa tall and handsome friar whom the said gentleman had taken to be hisconfessor, and who had as much authority in the gentleman's house as thegentleman himself. This friar, seeing that the gentleman's wife was asbeautiful and prudent as it was possible to be, fell so deeply in lovewith her that he lost all appetite for both food and drink, and allnatural reason as well. One day, thinking to work his end, he went allalone to the house, and not finding the gentleman within, asked the ladywhither he was gone. She replied that he was gone to an estate where heproposed remaining during two or three days, but that if the friar hadbusiness with him, she would despatch a man expressly to him. The friarsaid no to this, and began to walk to and fro in the house like one witha weighty matter in his mind.
1 Maximilian I., grandfather of Charles V. and Ferdinand I., and Emperor of Germany from 1494 to 1519.--Ed.
When he had left the room, the lady said to one of her women (and therewere but two) "Go after the good father and find out what he wants, forI judge by his countenance that he is displeased."
The serving-woman went to the courtyard and asked the friar whether hedesired aught, whereat he answered that he did, and, drawing her into acorner, he took a dagger which he carried in his sleeve, and thrustit into her throat. Just after he had done this, there came into thecourtyard a mounted servant who had been gone to receive the rent of afarm. As soon as he had dismounted he saluted the friar, who embracedhim, and while doing so thrust the dagger into the back part of hisneck. And thereupon he closed the castle gate.
The lady, finding that her serving-woman did not return, was astonishedthat she should remain so long with the friar, and said to the other--
"Go and see why your fellow-servant does not come back."
The woman went, and as soon as the good father saw her, he drew heraside into a corner and did to her as he had done to her companion.Then, finding himself alone in the house, he came to the lady, and toldher that he had long been in love with her, and that the hour was nowcome when she must yield him obedience.
The lady, who had never suspected aught of this, replied--
"I am sure, father, that were I so evilly inclined, you would be thefirst to cast a stone at me."
"Come out into the courtyard," returned the monk, "and you will see whatI have done."
When she beheld the two women and the man lying dead, she was soterrified that she stood like a statue, without uttering a word. Thevillain, who did not seek merely an hour's delight, would not take herby force, but forthwith said to her--
"Mistress, be not afraid; you are in the hands of him who, of all livingmen, loves you the most."
So saying, he took off his long robe, beneath which he wore a shorterone, which he gave to the lady, telling her that if she did not take it,she should be numbered with those whom she saw lying lifeless before hereyes.
More dead than alive already, the lady resolved to feign obedience,both to save her life, and to gain time, as she hoped, for her husband'sreturn. At the command of the friar, she set herself to put off herhead-dress as slowly as she was able; and when this was done, the friar,heedless of the beauty of her hair, quickly cut it off. Then he causedher to take off all her clothes except her chemise, and dressed her inthe smaller robe he had worn, he himself resuming the other, which hewas wont to wear; then he departed thence with all imaginable speed,taking with him the little friar he had coveted so long.
But God, who pities the innocent in affliction, beheld the tears ofthis unhappy lady, and it so happened that her husband, having arrangedmatters more speedily than he had expected, was now returning home bythe same road by which she herself was departing. However, when thefriar perceived him in the distance, he said to the lady--
"I see your husband coming this way. I know that if you look at him hewill try to take you out of my hands. Go, then, before me, and turnnot your head in his direction; for, if you make the faintest sign, mydagger will be in your throat before he can deliver you."
As he was speaking, the gentleman came up, and asked him whence he wascoming.
"From your house," replied the other, "where I left my lady in goodhealth, and waiting for you."
The gentleman passed on without observing his wife, but a servant whowas with him, and who had always been wont to foregather with one ofthe friar's comrades named Brother John, began to call to his mistress,thinking, indeed, that she was this Brother John. The poor woman, whodurst not turn her eyes in the direction of her husband, answered not aword. The servant, however, wishing to see her face, crossed the road,and the lady, still without making any reply, signed to him with hereyes, which were full of tears.
The servant then went after his master and said--"Sir, as I crossed theroad I took note of the friar's companion. He is not Brother John, butis very like my lady, your wife, and gave me a pitiful look with eyesfull of tears."
The gentleman replied that he was dreaming, and paid no heed to him; butthe servant persisted, entreating his master to allow him to go back,whilst he himself waited on the road, to see if matters were as hethought. The gentleman gave him leave, and waited to see what news hewould bring him. When the friar heard the servant calling out to BrotherJohn, he suspected that the lady had been recognised, and with a great,iron-bound stick that he carried, he dealt the servant so hard a blow inthe side that he knocked him off his horse. Then, leaping upon his body,he cut his throat.
The gentleman, seeing his servant fall in the distance, thought that hehad met with an accident, and hastened back to assist him. As soon asthe friar saw him, he struck him also with the iron-bound stick, justas he had struck the servant, and, flinging him to the ground, threwhimself upon him. But the gentleman being strong and powerful, huggedthe friar so closely that he was unable to do any mischief, and wasforced to let his dagger fall. The lady picked it up, and, giving it toher husband, held the friar with all her strength by the hood. Then herhusband dealt the friar several blows with the dagger, so that at lasthe cried for mercy and confessed his wickedness. The gentleman wasnot minded to kill him, but begged his wife to go home and fetch theirpeople and a cart, in which to carry the friar away. This she did,throwing off her robe, and running as far as her house in nothing buther shift, with her cropped hair.
The gentleman's men forthwith hastened to assist their master to bringaway the wolf that he had captured. And they found this wolf in theroad, on the ground, where he was seized and bound, and taken to thehouse of the gentleman, who afterwards had him brought before theEmperor's Court in Flanders, when he confessed his evil deeds.
And by his confession and by proofs procured by commissioners on thespot, it was found that a great number of gentlewomen and handsomewenches had been brought into the monastery in the same fashion as thefriar of my story had sought to carry off this lady; and he would havesucceeded but for the mercy of Our Lord, who ever assists those that puttheir trust in Him. And the said monastery was stripped of its spoilsand of the handsome maidens that were found within it, and the monkswere shut up in the building and burned with it, as an everlastingmemorial of this crime, by which we see that there is nothing moredangerous than love when it is founded upon vice, just as there isnothing more gentle or praiseworthy when it dwells in a virtuous heart.(2)
2 Queen Margaret states (_ante_, p. 5) that this tale was told by M. de St.-Vincent, ambassador of Charles V., and seems to imply that the incident recorded in it was one of recent occurrence. The same story may be found, however, i
n most of the collections of early _fabliaux_. See _OEuvres de Rutebeuf_, vol. i. p. 260 (_Frere Denise_), Legrand d'Aussy's _Fabliaux_, vol. iv. p. 383, and the _Recueil complet des Fabliaux_, Paris, 1878, vol. iii. p. 253. There is also some similarity between this tale and No. LX. of the _Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles_. Estienne quotes it in his _Apologie pour Herodote_, L'Estoile in his _Journal du regne de Henri III. (anno_ 1577), Malespini uses it in his _Ducento Novelle_ (No. 75), and it suggested to Lafontaine his _Cordeliers de Catalogne_.--L. and M.
"I am very sorry, ladies, that truth does not provide us with storiesas much to the credit of the Grey Friars as it does to the contrary. Itwould be a great pleasure to me, by reason of the love that I bear theirOrder, if I knew of one in which I could really praise them; but we havevowed so solemnly to speak the truth that, after hearing it from suchas are well worthy of belief, I cannot but make it known to you.Nevertheless, I promise you that, whenever the monks shall accomplish amemorable and glorious deed, I will be at greater pains to exalt it thanI have been in relating the present truthful history."
"In good faith, Geburon," said Oisille, "that was a love which mightwell have been called cruelty."
"I am astonished," said Simontault, "that he was patient enough not totake her by force when he saw her in her shift, and in a place where hemight have mastered her."
"He was not an epicure, but a glutton," said Saffredent. "He wanted tohave his fill of her every day, and so was not minded to amuse himselfwith a mere taste."
"That was not the reason," said Parlamente. "Understand that a lustfulman is always timorous, and the fear that he had of being surprised androbbed of his prey led him, wolf-like, to carry off his lamb that hemight devour it at his ease."
"For all that," said Dagoucin, "I cannot believe that he loved her, orthat the virtuous god of love could dwell in so base a heart."
"Be that as it may," said Oisille, "he was well punished, and I pray Godthat like attempts may meet with the same chastisement. But to whom willyou give your vote?"
"To you, madam," replied Geburon; "you will, I know, not fail to tell usa good story."
"Since it is my turn," said Oisille, "I will relate to you one that isindeed excellent, seeing that the adventure befel in my own day, andbefore the eyes of him who told it to me. You are, I am sure, awarethat death ends all our woes, and this being so, it may be termed ourhappiness and tranquil rest. It is, therefore, a misfortune if a mandesires death and cannot obtain it, and so the most grievous punishmentthat can be given to a wrongdoer is not death, but a continual torment,great enough to render death desirable, but withal too slight to bringit nearer. And this was how a husband used his wife, as you shall hear."
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[Bernage observing the German Lady's Strange Penance]
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