The Heptameron

by Marguerite de Navarre

  ‘Madame,’ she said, ‘you have had much experience of life, and you now occupy the position of mother in regard to the rest of us women, and it surprises me that you do not consider some pastime to alleviate the boredom and distress that we shall have to bear during our long stay here. Unless we have some amusing and virtuous way of occupying ourselves, we run the risk of [falling] sick.’

  Longarine, the young widow, added, ‘What is worse, we’ll all become miserable and disagreeable – and that’s an incurable disease. There isn’t a man or woman amongst us who hasn’t every cause to sink into despair, if we consider all that we have lost.’

  Ennasuite laughed and rejoined, ‘Not everyone’s lost a husband, like you, you know. And as for losing servants, no need to despair about that – there are plenty of men ready to do service! All the same, I do agree that we ought to have something to amuse us, so that we can pass the time as pleasantly as we can.’

  Her companion Nomerfide said that this was a very good idea, and that if she had to spend a single day without some entertainment, she would be sure to die the next.

  All the men supported this, and asked the Lady Oisille if she would kindly organize what they should do.

  ‘My children,’ replied Oisille, ‘when you ask me to show you a pastime that is capable of delivering you from your boredom and your sorrow, you are asking me to do something that I find very difficult. All my life I have searched for a remedy, and I have found only one – the reading of holy Scripture, in which one may find true and perfect spiritual joy, from which proceed health and bodily repose. And if you ask what the prescription is that keeps me happy and healthy in my old age, I will tell you. As soon as I rise in the morning I take the Scriptures and read them. I see and contemplate the goodness of God, who for our sakes has sent His son to earth to declare the holy word and the good news by which He grants remission of all our sins, and payment of all our debts, through His gift to us of His love, His passion and His merits. And my contemplations give me such joy, that I take my psalter, and with the utmost humility, sing the beautiful psalms and hymns that the Holy Spirit has composed in the heart of David and the other authors. The contentment this affords me fills me with such well-being that whatever the evils of the day, they are to me so many blessings, for in my heart I have by faith Him who has borne these evils for me. Likewise, before supper, I withdraw to nourish my soul with readings and meditations. In the evening I ponder in my mind everything I have done during the day, so that I may ask God forgiveness of my sins, and give thanks to Him for His mercies. And so I lay myself to rest in His love, fear and peace, assured against all evils. And this, my children, is the pastime that long ago I adopted. All other ways have I tried, but none has given me spiritual contentment. I believe that if, each morning, you give one hour to reading, and then, during mass, say your prayers devoutly, you will find even in this wilderness all the beauty a city could afford. For, a person who knows God will find all things beautiful in Him, and without Him all things will seem ugly. So I say to you, if you would live in happiness, heed my advice.’

  Then Hircan spoke: ‘Madame, anyone who has read the holy Scriptures – as indeed I think we all have here – will readily agree that what you have said is true. However, you must bear in mind that we have not yet become so mortified in the flesh that we are not in need of some sort of amusement and physical exercise in order to pass the time. After all, when we’re at home, we’ve got our hunting and hawking to distract us from the thousand and one foolish thoughts that pass through one’s mind. The ladies have their housework and their needlework. They have their dances, too, which provide a respectable way for them to get some exercise. All this leads me to suggest, on behalf of the men here, that you, Madame, since you are the oldest among us, should read to us every morning about the life of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the great and wonderful things He has done for us. Between dinner and vespers I think we should choose some pastime, which, while not being prejudicial to the soul, will be agreeable to the body. In that way we shall spend a very pleasant day.’

  Lady Oisille replied that she herself found it so difficult to put behind her the vanities of life, that she was afraid the pastime suggested by Hircan might not be a good choice. However, the question should, she thought, be judged after an open discussion, and she asked Hircan to put his point of view first.

  ‘Well, my point of view wouldn’t take long to give,’ he began, ‘if I thought that the pastime I would really like were as agreeable to a certain lady among us as it would be to me. So I’ll keep quiet for now, and abide by what the others say.’

  Thinking he was intending this for her, his wife. Parlamente, began to blush. ‘It may be, Hircan,’ she said, half angrily and half laughing, ‘that the lady you think ought to be the most annoyed at what you say would have ways and means of getting her own back, if she so desired. But let’s leave on one side all pastimes that require only two participants, and concentrate on those which everybody can join in.’

  Hircan turned to the ladies. ‘Since my wife has managed to put the right interpretation on my words,’ he said, ‘and since private pastimes don’t appeal to her, I think she’s in a better position than anyone to know which pastime all of us will be able to enjoy. Let me say right now that I accept her opinion as if it were my own.’

  They all concurred in this, and Parlamente, seeing that it had fallen to her to make the choice, addressed them all as follows.

  ‘If I felt myself to be as capable as the ancients, by whom the arts were discovered, then I would invent some pastime myself that would meet the requirements you have laid down for me. However, I know what lies within the scope of my own knowledge and ability – I can hardly even remember the clever things other people have invented, let alone invent new things myself. So I shall be quite content to follow closely in the footsteps of other people who have already provided for your needs. For example, I don’t think there’s one of us who hasn’t read the hundred tales by Boccaccio, which have recently been translated from Italian into French, and which are so highly thought of by the [most Christian] King Francis I, by Monseigneur the Dauphin, Madame the Dauphine and Madame Marguerite. If Boccaccio could have heard how highly these illustrious people praised him, it would have been enough to raise him from the grave. As a matter of fact, the two ladies I’ve mentioned, along with other people at the court, made up their minds to do the same as Boccaccio. There was to be one difference – that they should not write any story that was not truthful. Together with Monseigneur the Dauphin the ladies promised to produce ten stories each, and to get together a party of ten people who were qualified to contribute something, excluding those who studied and were men of letters. Monseigneur the Dauphin didn’t want their art brought in, and he was afraid that rhetorical ornament would in part falsify the truth of the account. A number of things led to the project being completely forgotten – the major affairs of state that subsequently overtook the King, the peace treaty between him and the King of England, the confinement of Madame the Dauphine and several other events of sufficient importance to keep the court otherwise occupied. However, it can now be completed in the ten days of leisure we have before us, while we wait for our bridge to be finished. If you so wished, we could go each afternoon between midday and four o’clock to the lovely meadow that borders the Gave de Pau, where the leaves on the trees are so thick that the hot sun cannot penetrate the shade and the cool beneath. There we can sit and rest, and each of us will tell a story which he has either witnessed himself, or which he has heard from somebody worthy of belief. At the end of our ten days we will have completed the whole hundred. And if, God willing, the lords and ladies I’ve mentioned find our endeavours worthy of their attention, we shall make them a present of them when we get back, instead of the usual statuettes and beads. I’m sure they would find that preferable. In spite of all this, if any of you is able to think of something more agreeable, I shall gladly bow to his or her opinion.’

  Bu
t everyone of them replied that it would be impossible to think of anything better, and that they could hardly wait for the morrow. So the day came happily to a close with reminiscences of things they had all experienced in their time.

  As soon as morning came they all went into Madame Oisille’s room, where she was already at her prayers. When they had listened for a good hour to the lesson she had to read them, and then devoutly heard mass, they went, at ten o’clock, to dine, after which they retired to their separate rooms to attend to what they had to do. At midday they all went back as arranged to the meadow, which was looking so beautiful and fair that it would take a Boccaccio to describe it as it really was. Enough for us to say that a more beautiful meadow there never was seen. When they were all seated on the grass, so green and soft that there was no need for carpets or cushions, Simontaut said: ‘Which of us shall be [the one in charge]?’

  ‘Since you have spoken first,’ replied Hircan, ‘it should be you who give the orders. Where games are concerned everybody is equal.’

  ‘Would to God,’ sighed Simontaut, ‘that the one thing in all the world I had were the power to order everyone in our party to comply with my wishes!’

  Parlamente knew very well what he meant by this remark, and started to cough. Hircan did not notice the colour rising in her cheeks, and simply went on to invite Simontaut to start, which he did at once.

  ‘Ladies, I have been so ill rewarded for my long and devoted service, that, in order to avenge myself on Love and on the woman who is so cruel to me, I shall do my utmost to collect together all the accounts of foul deeds perpetrated by women on us poor men. And every single one will be the unadulterated truth.’

  FIRST DAY

  STORY ONE

  In the town of Alençon, during the lifetime of the last Duke Charles, there was a procurator by the name of Saint-Aignan. He had married a noblewoman of the region who was more beautiful than she was virtuous, and who, on account of her charms and well-known flightiness, was the object of the attentions of the Bishop of Sées. To achieve his ends the prelate took care to humour the husband. The result was that not only did the husband fail to notice the wicked behaviour of his wife and the Bishop, but he even came to forget the affection he had always had for his master and mistress. Indeed, things went so far, that although he had in the past been their most loyal servant, he turned so much against them that he even brought in a sorcerer to procure the Duchess’s death. And so the Bishop continued his affair with the wretched woman, who for her part continued to do his bidding more out of greed than love. Besides, the husband had urged her to go on cultivating him. However, in the town of Alençon there also lived a certain young man. He was the son of the Lieutenant-General, and the procurator’s wife became half demented with infatuation for him. She frequently made use of the Bishop in order to obtain commissions for her husband that would get him out of the way while she saw the son of the Lieutenant, who was called du Mesnil. This arrangement persisted for quite some time. She had the Bishop for profit, and young du Mesnil for pleasure. Of course she swore to du Mesnil that if she bestowed favours on the Bishop, it was only so that they themselves would have more freedom to indulge in their pleasures. In any case, she assured him, the Bishop got nothing from her but fair words, and nobody but he, du Mesnil, would get anything else.

  One day, when Saint-Aignan had gone to visit the Bishop, his wife asked him if she might go into the country. The town did not agree with her, she said. No sooner had she arrived at her husband’s farm in the country than she wrote a note to du Mesnil, telling him to come and see her there around ten o’clock the same evening. This the poor young man duly did. But as he was about to go through the door, the chambermaid, who usually let him in, came out to meet him.

  ‘Go somewhere else, friend,’ she said. ‘Your place is already taken!’

  Du Mesnil thought the husband must have turned up, and asked her how things stood. The good woman felt sorry for him. There he was, a good-looking, well-bred young man, so much in love, and so badly treated in return! So she told him all about his mistress’s wild behaviour. That will teach him to fall in love like that, she thought to herself. She told him how the Bishop of Sées had only that moment arrived and was already in bed with Madame, who, as a matter of fact, had been rather taken aback, since she had not expected him till the following day. The Bishop had managed to keep the husband busy back in his residence, and had got away to see her secretly under cover of darkness. Well, you never saw anyone so flabbergasted as du Mesnil was at that moment. He could not believe his ears. What he did was to hide in a nearby house, where he kept watch till three o’clock in the morning, when he saw a figure emerge. And it was a figure that, in spite of the disguise, he recognized only too well as that of the Bishop.

  Du Mesnil was in despair as he rode back to Alençon. It was not long before his obnoxious mistress followed on, and went to see him, assuming that she would be able to go on leading him by the nose as usual. However, he told her that as she had been in contact with sacred things she was too holy to speak to a sinner such as himself. He was very penitent, though, he said, and hoped that his sin would soon be forgiven. She realized that the game was up, and that it was no use making excuses, or promising and swearing never to do it again. So she went off and complained to her Bishop. Then, after due deliberation on the matter, she spoke to her husband, saying that she could not bear to stay in Alençon any longer. It was that Lieutenant’s son, the man whom he, her husband, had regarded as a friend. He was for ever pestering her in a most dishonourable fashion, and in order to raise herself above any possible suspicion, she wanted her husband to take a house in Argentan. The husband, being in the habit of taking orders from his wife, agreed.

  They had not been living at Argentan very long before the wretched woman sent word to du Mesnil that in her opinion he was the most despicable man alive, that she knew all about the way he had maligned the Bishop and herself in public, and that she would see to it that he came to regret it. The poor young man had actually never said anything to anybody except her, and was extremely worried lest he find himself in the Bishop’s bad books. So he rode over to Argentan with a couple of servants, and eventually found the good lady attending vespers at one of the Dominicans’churches. He went up to her, knelt down at her side, and said:

  ‘Madame, I’m here to swear before God that I’ve never spoken to anyone except yourself about matters that could affect your honour. You’ve behaved in an abominable way towards me, and what I’ve said to you is only half of what you really deserve. If any man or woman dares say to the contrary that I’ve maligned you in public, then here I am in person to deny the charge!’

  There were a lot of people in the church, and du Mesnil had his two sturdy servants with him. So she forced herself to address him as agreeably as she could. She had no doubt, she assured him, that what he said was true. She knew he was far too decent a man to speak ill of anyone, let alone speak ill of her, the woman who was so fond of him. But her husband had heard rumours, and she would be glad if he would go and speak to him personally, in order to make it clear that he had not said the things he was accused of saying, and that he did not believe such tales either. Du Mesnil agreed to this. Thinking she wanted him to go back to her house with her, he took her by the arm. But she said that it would not be a good idea to go back together, because her husband would think that she had primed him on what to say. Grabbing hold of one of his servants by the sleeve, she said: ‘Leave this man with me, and when the time’s ripe, I’ll send him to let you know. In the meantime go back to where you’re staying and lie low.’

  Off he went, never dreaming that she was planning to trap him, while she took his servant back to her house and gave him some supper. The man kept asking her when it would be time to go to fetch his master, to which she replied that he would be coming shortly. But when it got dark, she secretly sent one of her own serving-men to bring du Mesnil, who, not suspecting the danger ahead, went back to the hou
se quite fearlessly, accompanied only by the one servant, the other having been detained by Saint-Aignan’s wife. As he went in, his guide told him that the mistress would like to speak to him first, before he spoke to her husband, that she was waiting for him in a room with his other servant, and that he ought to send the one he had with him out by the front door. This he did, and went on alone up a dark staircase. But Saint-Aignan had prepared an ambush, and there were men hidden in a closet, waiting for du Mesnil. Hearing the noise on the stairs, Saint-Aignan asked what it was, and [was told] that it was a man trying to get in the house without being seen. At this point, out jumped an individual by the name of Thomas Guérin, who was a professional assassin, and had been hired for the occasion. Defend himself as he might, the poor young man could do nothing against the hail of blows from Guérin’s sword, and he fell dead at his assailant’s feet. The servant who had been with the lady of the house said: ‘I can hear my master’s voice on the stairs. I’m going to him.’

  But she held him back, saying, ‘Don’t worry about him. He’ll be coming up shortly.’

  But then he heard his master shouting out: ‘I’m dying! God have mercy on my soul!’

  The servant wanted to run to his aid, but Saint-Aignan’s wife still managed to hold him back.

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said. ‘It’s my husband teaching the young rascal a lesson. Let’s go and see what’s happening.’

  Leaning over the top of the stairs she called out to her husband: ‘Well then? Have you done?’