A Grey Friar named De Vale, being bidden to dinner at the
house of the Judge of the Exempts in Angoulême, perceived
that the Judge's wife (with whom he was in love) went up
into the garret alone; thinking to surprise her, he followed
her thither; but she dealt him such a kick in the stomach
that he fell from the top of the stairs to the bottom, and
fled out of the town to the house of a lady that had such
great liking for those of his Order (foolishly believing
them possessed of greater virtues than belong to them), that
she entrusted him with the correction of her daughter, whom
he lay with by force instead of chastising her for the sin
of sloth-fulness, as he had promised her mother he would
do. (1)
1 Boaistuau and Gruget omit this tale, and the latter
replaces it by that numbered XLVI. (B). Count Charles of
Angoulême having died on January i, 1496, the incidents
related above must have occurred at an earlier date.—L.
In the town of Angoulême, where Count Charles, father of King Francis,
often abode, there dwelt a Grey Friar named De Vale, the same being held
a learned man and a great preacher. One Advent this Friar preached in
the town in presence of the Count, whereby he won such renown that those
who knew him eagerly invited him to dine at their houses. Among others
that did this was the Judge of the Exempts (2) of the county, who had
wedded a beautiful and virtuous woman. The Friar was dying for love of
her, yet lacked the hardihood to tell her so; nevertheless she perceived
the truth, and held him in derision.
2 The Exempt was a police officer, and the functions of
the Juge des Exempts were akin to those of a police
magistrate.—Ed.
After he had given several tokens of his wanton purpose, he one day
espied her going up into the garret alone. Thinking to surprise her, he
followed, but hearing his footsteps she turned and asked whither he was
going. "I am going after you," he replied, "to tell you a secret."
"Nay, good father," said the Judge's wife. "I will have no secret
converse with such as you. If you come up any higher, you will be sorry
for it."
Seeing that she was alone, he gave no heed to her words, but hastened
up after her. She, however, was a woman of spirit, and when she saw the
Friar at the top of the staircase, she gave him a kick in the stomach,
and with the words, "Down! down! sir," (3) cast him from the top to the
bottom. The poor father was so greatly ashamed at this, that, forgetting
the hurt he had received in falling, he fled out of the town as fast
as he was able. He felt sure that the lady would not conceal the matter
from her husband; and indeed she did not, nor yet from the Count and
Countess, so that the Friar never again durst come into their presence.
3 The French words here are "Dévaliez, dévaliez,
monsieur," whilst MS. No. 1520 gives, "Monsieur de Vale,
dévalés." In either case there is evidently a play upon the
friar's name, which was possibly pronounced Vallès or
Vallès. Adrien de Valois, it maybe pointed out, rendered his
name in Latin as Valesius; the county of Valois and that
of Valais are one and the same; we continue calling the old
French kings Valois, as their name was written, instead of
Valais as it was pronounced, as witness, for instance, the
nickname given to Henry III. by the lampooners of the
League, "Henri dévalé." See also post, Tale XLVI. (B),
note 2.—M. and Ed.
To complete his wickedness, he repaired to the house of a lady who
preferred the Grey Friars to all other folk, and, after preaching a
sermon or two before her, he cast his eyes upon her daughter, who was
very beautiful. And as the maiden did not rise in the morning to hear
his sermon, he often scolded her in presence of her mother, whereupon
the latter would say to him—"Would to God, father, that she had some
taste of the discipline which you monks receive from one another."
The good father vowed that if she continued to be so slothful, he would
indeed give her some of it, and her mother earnestly begged him to do
so.
A day or two afterwards, he entered the lady's apartment, and, not
seeing her daughter there, asked her where she was.
"She fears you so little," replied the lady, "that she is still in bed."
"There can be no doubt," said the Grey Friar, "that it is a very evil
habit in young girls to be slothful. Few people think much of the sin
of sloth, but for my part, I deem it one of the most dangerous there is,
for the body as for the soul. You should therefore chastise her for it,
and if you will give me the matter in charge, I will take good care that
she does not lie abed at an hour when she ought to be praying to God."
The poor lady, believing him to be a virtuous man, begged him to be
kind enough to correct her daughter, which he at once agreed to do, and,
going up a narrow wooden staircase, he found the girl all alone in bed.
She was sleeping very soundly, and while she slept he lay with her by
force. The poor girl, waking up, knew not whether he were man or devil,
but began to cry out as loudly as she could, and to call for help to her
mother. But the latter, standing at the foot of the staircase, cried
out to the Friar—"Have no pity on her, sir. Give it to her again, and
chastise the naughty jade."
When the Friar had worked his wicked will, he came down to the lady and
said to her with a face all afire—"I think, madam, that your daughter
will remember my discipline."
The mother thanked him warmly and then went upstairs, where she found
her daughter making such lamentation as is to be expected from a
virtuous woman who has suffered from so foul a crime. On learning the
truth, the mother had search made everywhere for the Friar, but he was
already far away, nor was he ever afterwards seen in the kingdom of
France.
"You see, ladies, with how much security such commissions may be given
to those that are unfit for them. The correction of men pertains to men
and that of women to women; for women in the correction of men would be
as pitiful as men in the correction of women would be cruel."
"Jesus! madam," said Parlamente, "what a base and wicked Friar!"
"Say rather," said Hircan, "what a foolish and witless mother to be led
by hypocrisy into allowing so much familiarity to those who ought never
to be seen except in church."
"In truth," said Parlamente, "I acknowledge that she was the most
foolish mother imaginable; had she been as wise as the Judge's wife, she
would rather have made him come down the staircase than go up. But what
can you expect? The devil that is half-angel is the most dangerous of
all, for he is so well able to transform himself into an angel of light,
that people shrink from suspecting him to be what he really is; and it
seems to me that persons who are not suspicious are worthy of praise."
"At the same time," said Oisille, "people ought to suspect the evil that
is to be avoided, especially those who hold a trust; for it is better to
suspect an evil that does not exist than by foolish trustfulness to fall
into one that does. I have never known a woman deceived through being
slow to believe men's words, but many are there that have been deceived
through being over prompt in giving credence to falsehood. Therefore I
say that possible evil cannot be held in too strong suspicion by those
that have charge of men, women, cities or states; for, however good the
watch that is kept, wickedness and treachery are prevalent enough, and
the shepherd who is not vigilant will always be deceived by the wiles of
the wolf."
"Still," said Dagoucin, "a suspicious person cannot have a perfect
friend, and many friends have been divided by suspicion."
"If you know any such instance," said Oisille, "I give you my vote that
you may relate it."
"I know one," said Dagoucin, "which is so strictly true that you will
needs hear it with pleasure. I will tell you, ladies, when it is that
a close friendship is most easily severed; 'tis when the security of
friendship begins to give place to suspicion. For just as trust in a
friend is the greatest honour that can be shown him, so is doubt of him
a still greater dishonour. It proves that he is deemed other than we
would have him to be, and so causes many close friendships to be broken
off, and friends to be turned into foes. This you will see from the
story that I am minded to relate."
TALE XLVI.(B).
Concerning a Grey Friar who made it a great crime on the
part of husbands to beat their wives. (1)
In the town of Angoulême, where Count Charles, father of King Francis,
often abode, there dwelt a Grey Friar named De Vallès, (2) the same
being a learned man and a very great preacher. At Advent time this Friar
preached in the town in presence of the Count, whereby his reputation
was still further increased.
1 This is the tale inserted in Gruget's edition in lieu of
the previous one.—Ed.
2 We had thought that Friar Vallès might possibly be Robert
de Valle, who at the close of the fifteenth century wrote a
work entitled Explanatio in Plinium, but find that this
divine was a Bishop of Rouen, and never belonged to the Grey
Friars. In Gessner's Biographia Universalis, continued by
Frisius, mention is made of three learned ecclesiastics of
the name of Valle living in or about Queen Margaret's time:
Baptiste de Valle, who wrote on war and duelling; William de
Valle, who penned a volume entitled De Anima Sorbono; and
Amant de Valle, a Franciscan minorité born at Toulouse, who
was the author of numerous philosophical works, the most
important being Elucidationes Scoti.—B. J.
It happened also that during Advent a hare-brained young fellow, who had
married a passably handsome young woman, continued none the less to
run at the least as dissolute a course as did those that were still
bachelors. The young wife, being advised of this, could not keep silence
upon it, so that she very often received payment after a different and
a prompter fashion than she could have wished. For all that, she ceased
not to persist in lamentation, and sometimes in railing as well; which
so provoked the young man that he beat her even to bruises and blood.
Thereupon she cried out yet more loudly than before; and in a like
fashion all the women of the neighbourhood, knowing the reason of this,
could not keep silence, but cried out publicly in the streets, saying—
"Shame, shame on such husbands! To the devil with them!"
By good fortune the Grey Friar De Vallès was passing that way and
heard the noise and the reason of it. He resolved to touch upon it the
following day in his sermon, and did so. Turning his discourse to the
subject of marriage and the affection which ought to subsist in it, he
greatly extolled that condition, at the same time censuring those that
offended against it, and comparing wedded to parental love. Among other
things, he said that a husband who beat his wife was in more danger, and
would have a heavier punishment, than if he had beaten his father or his
mother.
"For," said he, "if you beat your father or your mother you will be sent
for penance to Rome; but if you beat your wife, she and all the women of
the neighbourhood will send you to the devil, that is, to hell. Now look
you what a difference there is between these two penances. From Rome a
man commonly returns again, but from hell, oh! from that place, there is
no return: nulla est redemptio" (3)
After preaching this sermon, he was informed that the women were making
a triumph of it, (4) and that their husbands could no longer control
them. He therefore resolved to set the husbands right just as he had
previously assisted their wives.
3 This was the Pope's expression apropos of Messer Biagio,
whom Michael Angelo had introduced into his "Last
Judgment."—M.
4 The French expression is faisaient leur Achilles, the
nearest equivalent to which in English would probably be
"Hectoring" It is curious that the French should have taken
the name of Achilles and we that of Hector to express the
same idea of arrogance and bluster.—Ed.
With this intent, in one of his sermons he compared women and devil
together, saying that these were the greatest enemies that man had, that
they tempted him without ceasing, and that he could not rid himself of
them, especially of women.
"For," said he, "as far as devils are concerned, if you show them the
cross they flee away, whereas women, on the contrary, are tamed by
it, and are made to run hither and thither and cause their husbands
countless torments. But, good people, know you what you must do? When
you find your wives afflicting you thus continually, as is their wont,
take off the handle of the cross and with it drive them away. You will
not have made this experiment briskly three or four times before you
will find yourselves the better for it, and see that, even as the devil
is driven off by the virtue of the cross, so can you drive away and
silence your wives by virtue of the handle, provided only that it be not
attached to the cross aforesaid."
"You have here some of the sermons by this reverend De Vallès, of whose
life I will with good reason relate nothing more. However, I will tell
you that, whatever face he put upon the matter—and I knew him—he was
much more inclined to the side of the women than to that of the men."
"Yet, madam," said Parlamente, "he did not show this in his last sermon,
in which he instructed the men to ill-treat them."
"Nay, you do not comprehend his artifice," said Hircan. "You are not
experienced in war and in the use of the stratagems that it requires;
among these, one of the most important is to kindle strife in the camp
of the enemy, whereby he becomes far easier to conquer. This master
monk well knew that hatred and wrath between husband and wife most
often cause a loose rein to be given to the wife's honour. And when that
honour frees itself from the guardianship of virtue, it finds itself in
the power of the wolf before it knows even that it is astray."
"However that may be," said Parlamente, "I could not love a man who had
sown such division between my husband and myself as would lead even to
blows; for beating banishes love. Yet, by what I have heard, they [the
friars] can be so mincing when they seek some advantage over a woman,
and so attractive in their discourse, that I feel sure there would be
more danger in hearkening to them in secret than in publicly receiving
blows from a husband in other respects a good one."
"Truly," said Dagoucin, "they have so revealed their plottings in all
directions, that it is not without reason that they are to be feared;
(5) although in my opinion persons who are not suspicious are worthy of
praise."
5 From this point the dialogue is almost word for word the
same as that following Tale XLVI. (A).—Ed.
"At the same time," said Oisille, "people ought to suspect the evil
that is to be avoided, for it is better to suspect an evil that does not
exist than by foolish trustfulness to fall into one that does. For my
part, I have never known a woman deceived by being slow to believe
men's words, but many are through being too prompt in giving credence
to falsehood. Therefore I say that possible evil cannot be too strongly
suspected by those that have charge of men, women, cities or states;
for, however good may be the watch that is kept, wickedness and
treachery are prevalent enough, and for this reason the shepherd who is
not vigilant will always be deceived by the wiles of the wolf."
"Still," said Dagoucin, "a suspicious person cannot have a perfect
friend, and many friends have been parted by bare suspicion."
"If you should know any such instance," thereupon said Oisille, "I will
give you my vote that you may relate it."
"I know one," said Dagoucin, "which is so strictly true that you will
hear it with pleasure. I will tell you, ladies, when it is that close
friendship is most readily broken off; it is when the security of
friendship begins to give place to suspicion. For just as to trust a
friend is the greatest honour one can do him, so is doubt of him the
greatest dishonour, inasmuch as it proves that he is deemed other than
one would have him to be, and in this wise many close friendships are
broken off and friends turned into foes. This you will see from the
story that I am now about to relate."
