Ladies, said Simontault, I have been so poorly rewarded for my longservice, that to avenge myself upon Love, and upon her who treats me socruelly, I shall be at pains to make a collection of all the ill turnsthat women hath done to hapless men; and moreover I will relate nothingbut the simple truth.
In the town of Alençon, during the lifetime of Charles, the lastDuke,(2) there was a Proctor named St. Aignan, who had married agentlewoman of the neighbourhood. She was more beautiful than virtuous,and on account of her beauty and light behaviour was much sought afterby the Bishop of Sees,(3) who, in order to compass his ends, managed thehusband so well, that the latter not only failed to perceive the viciousconduct of his wife and of the Bishop, but was further led to forget theaffection he had always shown in the service of his master and mistress.
Thus, from being a loyal servant, he became utterly adverse to them, andat last sought out sorcerers to procure the death of the Duchess.(4)Now for a long time the Bishop consorted with this unhappy woman, whosubmitted to him from avarice rather than from love, and also becauseher husband urged her to show him favour. But there was a youth in thetown of Alençon, son of the Lieutenant-General,(5) whom she lovedso much that she was half crazy regarding him; and she often availedherself of the Bishop to have some commission intrusted to her husband,so that she might see the son of the Lieutenant, who was named DuMesnil, at her ease.
This mode of life lasted a long time, during which she had the Bishopfor her profit and the said Du Mesnil for her pleasure. To the lattershe swore that she showed a fair countenance to the Bishop only thattheir own love might the more freely continue; that the Bishop, inspite of appearances, had obtained only words, from her; and that he,Du Mesnil, might rest assured that no man, save himself, should everreceive aught else.
One day, when her husband was setting forth to visit the Bishop, sheasked leave of him to go into the country, saying that the air of thetown was injurious to her; and, when she had arrived at her farm, sheforthwith wrote to Du Mesnil to come and see her, without fail, atabout ten o'clock in the evening. This the young man did; but as he wasentering at the gate he met the maid who was wont to let him in, and whosaid to him, "Go elsewhere, friend, for your place is taken."
Supposing that the husband had arrived, he asked her how matters stood.The woman, seeing that he was so handsome, youthful, and well-bred, andwas withal so loving and yet so little loved, took pity upon him andtold him of his mistress's wantonness, thinking that on hearing this hewould be cured of loving her so much. She related to him that the Bishopof Sees had but just arrived, and was now in bed with the lady, a thingwhich the latter had not expected, for he was not to have come untilthe morrow. However, he had detained her husband at his house, and hadstolen away at night to come secretly and see her. If ever man was indespair it was Du Mesnil, who nevertheless was quite unable to believethe story. He hid himself, however, in a house near by, and watcheduntil three hours after midnight, when he saw the Bishop come forthdisguised, yet not so completely but that he could recognise him morereadily than he desired.
Du Mesnil in his despair returned to Alençon, whither, likewise, hiswicked mistress soon came, and went to speak to him, thinking to deceivehim according to her wont. But he told her that, having touched sacredthings, she was too holy to speak to a sinner like himself, albeithis repentance was so great that he hoped his sin would very soon beforgiven him. When she learnt that her deceit was found out, and thatexcuses, oaths, and promises never to act in a like way again were ofno avail, she complained of it to her Bishop. Then, having weighed thematter with him, she went to her husband and told him that she could nolonger dwell in the town of Alençon, for the Lieutenant's son, whom hehad so greatly esteemed among his friends, pursued her unceasinglyto rob her of her honour. She therefore begged of him to abide atArgentan,(6) in order that all suspicion might be removed.
The husband, who suffered himself to be ruled by his wife, consented;but they had not been long at Argentan when this bad woman sent amessage to Du Mesnil, saying that he was the wickedest man in the world,for she knew full well that he had spoken evilly (sic.) of her andof the Bishop of Sees; however, she would strive her best to make himrepent of it.
The young man, who had never spoken of the matter except to herself,and who feared to fall into the bad graces of the Bishop, repaired toArgentan with two of his servants, and finding his mistress at vespersin the church of the Jacobins,(7) he went and knelt beside her, andsaid—
"I am come hither, madam, to swear to you before God that I have neverspoken of your honour to any person but yourself. You treated me so illthat I did not make you half the reproaches you deserved; but if therebe man or woman ready to say that I have ever spoken of the matter tothem, I am here to give them the lie in your presence."
Seeing that there were many people in the church, and that he wasaccompanied by two stout serving-men, she forced herself to speak asgraciously as she could. She told him that she had no doubt he spoke thetruth, and that she deemed him too honourable a man to make evil reportof any one in the world; least of all of herself, who bore him so muchfriendship; but since her husband had heard the matter spoken of, shebegged him to say in his presence that he had not so spoken and did notso believe.
To this he willingly agreed, and, wishing to attend her to her house, heoffered to take her arm; but she told him it was not desirable that heshould come with her, for her husband would think that she had put thesewords into his mouth. Then, taking one of his serving-men by the sleeve,she said—
"Leave me this man, and as soon as it is time I will send him to seekyou. Meanwhile do you go and rest in your lodging."
He, having no suspicion of her conspiracy against him, went thither.
She gave supper to the serving-man whom she had kept with her, and whofrequently asked her when it would be time to go and seek his master;but she always replied that his master would come soon enough. When itwas night, she sent one of her own serving-men to fetch Du Mesnil; andhe, having no suspicion of the mischief that was being prepared forhim, went boldly to St. Aignan's house. As his mistress was stillentertaining his servant there, he had but one with himself.
Just as he was entering the house, the servant who had been sent tohim told him that the lady wished to speak with him before he saw herhusband, and that she was waiting for him in a room where she was alonewith his own serving-man; he would therefore do well to send his otherservant away by the front door. This he did. Then while he was going upa small, dark stairway, the Proctor St. Aignan, who had placed somemen in ambush in a closet, heard the noise, and demanded what it was;whereupon he was told that a man was trying to enter secretly into hishouse.
At the moment, a certain Thomas Guérin, a murderer by trade, who hadbeen hired by the Proctor for the purpose, came forward and gave thepoor young man so many sword-thrusts that whatever defence he was ableto make could not save him from falling dead in their midst.
Meanwhile the servant who was waiting with the lady, said to her—
"I hear my master speaking on the stairway. I will go to him."
But the lady stopped him and said—
"Do not trouble yourself; he will come soon enough."
A little while afterwards the servant, hearing his master say, "I amdying, may God receive my soul!" wished to go to his assistance, but thelady again withheld him, saying—
"Do not trouble yourself; my husband is only chastising him for hisfollies. We will go and see what it is."
Then, leaning over the balustrade at the top of the stairway, she askedher husband—
"Well, is it done?"
"Come and see," he replied. "I have now avenged you on the man who putyou to such shame."
So saying, he drove a dagger that he was holding ten or twelve timesinto the belly of a man whom, alive, he would not have dared to assail.
When the murder had been accomplished, and the two servants of the deadman had fled to carry the tidings to the unhappy father, St. Aignanbethought himself that the matter could not be kept secret. But hereflected that the testimony of the dead man's servants would not bebelieved, and that no one in his house had seen the deed done, exceptthe murderers, and an old woman-servant, and a girl fifteen years ofage. He secretly tried to seize the old woman, but, finding means toescape out of his hands, she sought sanctuary with the Jacobins,(8) andwas afterwards the most trustworthy witness of the murder. The youngmaid remained for a few days in St. Aignan's house, but he found meansto have her led astray by one of the murderers, and had her conveyed toa brothel in Paris so that her testimony might not be received.(9)
To conceal the murder, he caused the corpse of the hapless dead man tobe burnt, and the bones which were not consumed by the fire he caused tobe placed in some mortar in a part of his house where he was building.Then he sent in all haste to the Court to sue for pardon, settingforth that he had several times forbidden his house to a person whom hesuspected of plotting his wife's dishonour, and who, notwithstandinghis prohibition, had come by night to see her in a suspicious fashion;whereupon, finding him in the act of entering her room, his anger hadgot the better of his reason and he had killed him.
But before he was able to despatch his letter to the Chancellor's, theDuke and Duchess had been apprised by the unhappy father of the matter,and they sent a message to the Chancellor to prevent the granting of thepardon. Finding he could not obtain it, the wretched man fled to Englandwith his wife and several of his relations. But before setting out hetold the murderer who at his entreaty had done the deed, that he hadseen expresses from the King directing that he should be taken and putto death. Nevertheless, on account of the service that he had renderedhim, he desired to save his life, and he gave him ten crowns wherewithto leave the kingdom. The murderer did this, and was afterwards seen nomore.
The murder was so fully proven by the servants of the dead man, by thewoman who had taken refuge with the Jacobins, and by the bones that werefound in the mortar, that legal proceedings were begun and completed inthe absence of St. Aignan and his wife. They were judged by defaultand were both condemned to death. Their property was confiscated to thePrince, and fifteen hundred crowns were to be given to the dead man'sfather to pay the costs of the trial.
St. Aignan being in England and perceiving that in the eyes of the lawhe was dead in France, by means of his services to divers great lordsand by the favour of his wife's relations, induced the King of England(10) to request the King of France (11) to grant him a pardon andrestore him to his possessions and honours. But the King of France,having been informed of the wickedness and enormity of the crime, sentthe process to the King of England, praying him to consider whether theoffence was one deserving of pardon, and telling him that no one in thekingdom but the Duke of Alençon had the right to grant a pardon in thatduchy. However, notwithstanding all his excuses, he failed to appeasethe King of England, who continued to entreat him so very pressinglythat, at his request, the Proctor at last received a pardon and soreturned to his own home.(12) There, to complete his wickedness, heconsorted with a sorcerer named Gallery, hoping that by this man's arthe might escape payment of the fifteen hundred crowns to the dead man'sfather.
To this end he went in disguise to Paris with his wife. She, findingthat he used to shut himself up for a great while in a room with Gallerywithout acquainting her with the reason thereof, spied upon him onemorning, and perceived Gallery showing him five wooden images, three ofwhich had their hands hanging down, whilst two had them lifted up.(13)
"We must make waxen images like these," said Gallery, speaking to theProctor. "Such as have their arms hanging down will be for those whomwe shall cause to die, and the others with their arms raised will be forthe persons from whom you would fain have love and favour."
"This one," said the Proctor, "shall be for the King by whom I wouldfain be loved, and this one for Monseigneur Brinon, Chancellor ofAlençon." (14)
"The images," said Gallery, "must be set under the altar, to hear mass,with words that I will presently tell you to say."
Then, speaking of those images that had their arms lowered, the Proctorsaid that one should be for Master Gilles du Mesnil, father of the deadman, for he knew that as long as the father lived he would not cease topursue him. Moreover, one of the women with their hands hanging down wasto be for the Duchess of Alençon, sister to the King; for she boreso much love to her old servant, Du Mesnil, and had in so many othermatters become acquainted with the Proctor's wickedness, that except shedied he could not live. The second woman that had her arms hanging downwas his own wife, who was the cause of all his misfortune, and who hefelt sure would never amend her evil life.
When his wife, who could see everything through the keyhole, heard himplacing her among the dead, she resolved to send him among them first.On pretence of going to borrow some money, she went to an uncle she had,named Neaufle, who was Master of Requests to the Duke of Alençon, andinformed him of what she had seen and heard. Neaufle, like the old andworthy servant that he was, went forthwith to the Chancellor of Alençonand told him the whole story.
As the Duke and Duchess of Alençon were not at Court that day, theChancellor related this strange business to the Regent,(15) mother ofthe King and the Duchess, and she sent in all haste for the Provost ofParis,(16) who made such speed that he at once seized the Proctorand his sorcerer, Gallery. Without constraint or torture they freelyconfessed their guilt, and their case was made out and laid before theKing.
Certain persons, wishing to save their lives, told him that they hadonly sought his good graces by their enchantments; but the King, holdinghis sister's life as dear as his own, commanded that the same sentenceshould be passed on them as if they had made an attempt on his ownperson.
However, his sister, the Duchess of Alençon, entreated that theProctor's life might be spared, and the sentence of death be commuted tosome heavy punishment. This request was granted her, and St. Aignanand Gallery were sent to the galleys of St. Blancart at Marseilles,(17)where they ended their days in close captivity, and had leisure toponder on the grievousness of their crimes. The wicked wife, in theabsence of her husband, continued in her sinful ways even more thanbefore, and at last died in wretchedness.
"I pray you, ladies, consider what evil is caused by a wicked woman,and how many evils sprang from the sins of the one I have spoken of.You will find that ever since Eve caused Adam to sin, all women have setthemselves to bring about the torment, slaughter and damnation of men.For myself, I have had such experience of their cruelty that I expect todie and be damned simply by reason of the despair into which one of themhas cast me. And yet so great a fool am I, that I cannot but confessthat hell coming from her hand is more pleasing than Paradise would befrom the hand of another."
Parlamente, pretending she did not understand that it was touchingherself he spoke in this fashion, said to him—
"Since hell is as pleasant as you say, you ought not to fear the devilwho has placed you in it."
"If my devil were to become as black as he has been cruel to me,"answered Simontault angrily, "he would cause the present company as muchfright as I find pleasure in looking upon them; but the fires oflove make me forget those of this hell. However, to speak no furtherconcerning this matter, I give my vote to Madame Oisille to tell thesecond story. I feel sure she would support my opinion if she werewilling to say what she knows about women."
Forthwith all the company turned towards Oisille, and begged of her toproceed, to which she consented, and, laughing, began as follows—
"It seems to me, ladies, that he who has given me his vote has spoken soill of our sex in his true story of a wicked woman, that I must call tomind all the years of my long life to find one whose virtue will sufficeto gainsay his evil opinion. However, as I have bethought me of oneworthy to be remembered, I will now relate her history to you."