STORY THE SIXTY-SECOND — THE LOST RING.
By Monseigneur De Commesuram.
Of two friends, one of whom left a diamond in the bed of his hostess, where the other found it, from which there arose a great discussion between them, which the husband of the said hostess settled in an effectual manner.
About the month of July (*) a great meeting and assembly was held between Calais and Gravelines, and near the castle of Oye, at which were assembled many princes and great lords, both of France and of England, to consider the question of the ransom of the Duke of Orléans, (**) then prisoner to the king of England. Amongst the English representatives was the Cardinal of Winchester, who had come to the said assembly in great and noble state, with many knights, and squires and ecclesiastics.
(*) 1440.
(**) Charles, Duke of Orléans, was taken prisoner at the
battle of Agincourt in 1415, and, as his ransom was not
forthcoming was detained a captive for 25 years, when the
Duke and Duchess of Burgundy intervened to procure his
freedom. Cardinal Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester, accepted a
ransom of 200,000 gold crowns, payment of which was
guaranteed by the Dauphin of France, Duke Philip of
Burgundy, and other princes, with the consent of the King of
France. The agreement was signed 22 Nov. 1440.
And amongst the other noblemen were two named John Stockton, squire, and carver, and Thomas Brampton, cup-bearer to the said Cardinal—which said John and Thomas loved each other like two brothers, for their clothes, harness, and arms were always as nearly alike as possible, and they usually shared the same room and the said bed, and never was there heard any quarrel, dispute, or misunderstanding between them.
When the said Cardinal arrived at the said town of Calais, there was hired for him to lodge the said noblemen, the house of Richard Fery, which is the largest house in the town of Calais, and it is the custom of all great lords passing through the town to lodge there.
The said Richard was married to a Dutchwoman; who was beautiful, courteous, and well accustomed to receive guests.
While the treaty was being discussed, which was for more than two months, John Stockton and Thomas Brampton, who were both of the age of 26 or 28 years, wore bright crimson clothes, (*) and were ready for feats of arms by night or day—during this time, I say, notwithstanding the intimacy and friendship which existed between these two brothers-in-arms, the said John Stockton, unknown to the said Thomas, found means to visit their hostess, and often conversed with her, and paid her many of those attentions customary in love affairs, and finally was emboldened to ask the said hostess if he might be her friend, and she would be his lady-love.
(*) Shakespeare several times in the course of the First
Part of Henry VI mentions “the tawny robes of Winchester.”
Which is right?
To which, as though pretending to be astonished at such a request, she replied coldly that she did not hate him, or anyone, nor wish to, but that she loved all the world as far as in honour she could, but if she rightly understood his request, she could not comply with it without great danger of dishonour and scandal, and perhaps risk to her life, and for nothing in the world would she consent thereto.
John replied that she might very well grant his request, for that he would rather perish, and be tormented in the other world, than that she should be dishonoured by any fault of his, and that she was in no wise to suspect that her honour would not be safe in his keeping, and he again begged her to grant him this favour, and always deem him her servant and loving friend.
She pretended to tremble, and replied that truly he made all the blood freeze in her veins, such fear and dread had she of doing that which he asked. Then he approached her and requested a kiss, which the ladies and damsels of the said country of England are ready enough to grant, (*) and kissing her, begged her tenderly not to be afraid, for no person living should ever be made acquainted with what passed between them.
(*) Is this a libel on the English ladies of the 16th
century, or is it true—as Bibliophile Jacob asserts in the
foot-note to this passage—that “English prudery is a
daughter of the Reformation?”
Then she said;
“I see that there is no escape, and that I must do as you wish, and as this must be so, in order to guard my honour, let me tell you that a regulation has been made by all the lords now living in Calais that every householder shall watch one night a week on the town walls. But as my husband has done so much, either himself or by his friends, for the lords and noblemen of the Cardinal, your master, who lodge here, he has only to watch half the night, and he will do so on Thursday next, from the time the bell rings in the evening until midnight; and whilst my husband is away on his watch, if you have anything to say to me, you will find me in my chamber, quite willing to listen to you, and along with my maid;”—who was quite ready to perform whatever her mistress wished.
John Stockton was much pleased with this answer, and thanked his hostess, and told her that it would not be his fault if he did not come at the appointed hour.
This conversation took place on the Monday, after dinner. But it should here be stated that Thomas Brampton had, unknown to his friend John Stockton, made similar requests to their hostess, but she would not grant his desire, but now raised his hopes and then dashed them to the ground, saying that he must have but a poor idea of her virtue, and that, if she did what he wished, she was sure that her husband and his relations and friends would take her life.
To this Thomas replied;
“My beloved mistress and hostess, I am a nobleman, and for no consideration would I bring upon you blame or dishonour, or I should be unworthy of the name of a gentleman. Believe me, that I would guard your honour as I do my own, and would rather die than reveal your secret; and that there is no friend or other person in the world, however dear to me, to whom I would relate our love-affair.”
She, therefore, noting the great affection and desire of the said Thomas, told him, on the Wednesday following the day on which she had given John the gracious reply recorded above—that, as he had a great desire to do her any service, she would not be so ungrateful as not to repay him. And then she told him how it was arranged that her husband should watch the morrow night, like the other chief householders of the town, in compliance with the regulation made by the lords then staying in Calais. But as—thank God—her husband had powerful friends to speak to the Cardinal for him, he had only to watch half the night, that is to say from midnight till the morning, and that if Thomas wished to speak to her during that time, she would gladly hear him, but, for God’s sake let him come so secretly that no blame could attach to her.
Thomas replied that he desired nothing better, and with that he took leave of her.
On the morrow, which was Thursday, at vespers, after the bell had rung for the watch, John Stockton did not forget to appear at the hour his hostess had appointed. He went to her chamber, and found her there quite alone, and she received him and made him welcome, for the table was laid.
John requested that he might sup with her, that they might the better talk together,—which she would not at first grant, saying that it might cause scandal if he were found with her. But she finally gave way, and the supper—which seemed to John to take a long time—being finished, he embraced his hostess, and they enjoyed themselves together, both naked.
Before he entered the chamber, he had put on one of his fingers, a gold ring set with a large fine diamond, of the value of, perhaps, thirty nobles. And in playing together, the ring slipped from his finger in the bed without his knowing it.
When it was about 11 o’clock, the damsel begged him kindly to dress and leave, that he might not be found by her husband, whom she expected as soon as midnight sounded, and that he would guard her honour as he had promised.
He, supposing that her husband would return soon, rose, dressed, and left the chamber as soon as the clock struck twelve, and without remembering the diamond he had left in the bed.
Not far from the door of the chamber John Stockton met Thomas Brampton, whom he mistook for his host, Richard. Thomas,—who had come at the hour the lady appointed,—made a similar mistake, and took John Stockton for Richard, and waited a few moments to see which way he would go.
Having watched the other disappear, Thomas went to the chamber, found the door ajar, and entered. The lady pretended to be much frightened and alarmed, and asked Thomas, with doubt and fear, whether he had met her husband who had just left to join the watch? He replied that he had met a man, but did not know whether it was her husband or another, and had waited a little in order to see which way he would go.
When she heard this, she kissed him boldly, and told him he was welcome, and Thomas, without more ado, laid her on the bed and tumbled her. When she found what manner of man he was, she made haste to undress, and he also, and they both got into bed, and sacrificed to the god of love, and broke several lances.
But in performing these feats, Thomas met with an adventure, for he suddenly felt under his thigh, the diamond that John Stockton had left there, and without saying anything, or evincing any surprise, he picked it up, and put it on his finger.
They remained together until the morning, when the watch bell was about to ring, when, at the request of the damsel he rose, but before he left they embraced with a long, loving kiss. He had scarcely gone when Richard came off the watch, on which he had been all night, very cold and sleepy, and found his wife just getting up. She made him a fire, and then he went to bed, for he had worked all night,—and so had his wife though not in the same fashion.
It is the custom of the English, after they have heard Mass, to breakfast at a tavern, with the best wine; and about two days after these events, John and Thomas were in a company of other gentlemen and merchants, who were breakfasting together, and Stockton and Brampton were seated opposite each other.
Whilst they were eating, John looked at Thomas, and saw on one of his fingers the diamond. He gazed at it a long time, and came to the conclusion that it was the ring he had lost, he did not know where or when, and he begged Thomas to show him the diamond, who accordingly handed it to him, and when he had it in his hand he saw that it was his own, and told Thomas so, and asked him how he came by it. To this Thomas replied that it belonged to him. Stockton maintained, on the contrary, that he had lost it but a short time before, and that if Thomas had found it in the chamber where they slept, it was not right of him to keep it, considering the affection and fraternity which had always existed between them. High words ensued, and both were angry and indignant with each other.
Thomas wished to get the diamond back, but could not obtain it. When the other gentlemen and merchants heard the dispute, all tried to bring about a reconciliation, but it was no good, for he who had lost the diamond would not let it out of his hands, and he who had found it wanted it back, as a memento of his love-encounter with his mistress, so that it was difficult to settle the dispute.
Finally, one of the merchants, seeing that all attempts to make up the quarrel were useless, said that he had hit upon a plan with which both John and Thomas ought to be satisfied, but he would not say what it was unless both parties promised, under a penalty of ten nobles, to abide by what he said. All the company declared that the merchant had spoken well, and persuaded John and Thomas to abide by this decision, which they at last consented to do.
The merchant ordered the diamond to be placed in his hands, then that all those who had tried to settle the difference should be silent, and that they should leave the house where they were, and the first man they met, whatever his rank or condition should be told the whole matter of the dispute between the said John and Thomas, and, whatever he decided, his verdict should be accepted without demur by both parties.
Thereupon all the company left the house, and the first person they met was Richard, the host of both disputants, to whom the merchant narrated the whole of the dispute.
Richard—after he had heard all, and had asked those, who were present if the account was correct, and the two were unwilling to let this dispute be settled by so many notable persons,—delivered his verdict—namely that the diamond should remain his, and that neither of the parties should have it.
When Thomas saw himself deprived of the diamond he had found, he was much vexed; and most probably so also was John Stockton, who had lost it.
Then Thomas requested all the company, except their host, to return to the house where they had breakfasted, and he would give them a dinner in order that they might hear how the diamond had come into his hands, to which they all agreed. And whilst the dinner was being prepared, he related the conversation he had had with his hostess, how she had appointed him an hour for him to visit her, whilst her husband was out with the watch, and how the diamond was found.
When John Stockton heard this he was astonished, and declared that exactly the same had occurred to him, and on the same night, and that he was convinced that he must have dropped his diamond where Thomas had found it, and that it was far worse for him to lose it than it was for Thomas, for it had cost him dear, whereas Thomas had lost nothing.
To which Thomas replied that he ought not to complain that their host had adjudged it to be his, considering what their hostess had had to suffer, and that he (John) had had first innings, whilst Thomas had had to act as his page or squire, and come after him.
So John Stockton was tolerably reconciled to the loss of his ring, since he could not otherwise help it. And all those who were present laughed loudly at the story of this adventure; and after they had all dined, each returned whithersoever he wished.
STORY THE SIXTY-THIRD — MONTBLERU; OR THE THIEF. [63]
By G. De Montbleru.
Of one named Montbleru, who at a fair at Antwerp stole from his companions their shirts and handkerchiefs, which they had given to the servant-maid of their hostess to be washed; and how afterwards they pardoned the thief, and then the said Montbleru told them the whole of the story.
Montbleru found himself about two years ago at the fair of Antwerp, in the company of Monseigneur d’Estampes, who paid all his expenses—which was much to the liking of Montbleru.
One day amongst others, by chance he met Masters Ymbert de Playne, Roland Pipe, and Jehan Le Tourneur, who were having a merry time; and as he is pleasant and obliging, as everyone knows, they desired his company, and begged him to come and lodge with them, and then they would have a merrier time than ever.
Montbleru at first excused himself, on the ground that he ought not to quit Monseigneur d’Estampes who had brought him there;
“And there is a very good reason,” he said, “for he pays all my expenses.”
Nevertheless, he was willing to leave Monseigneur d’Estampes if the others would pay his expenses, and they, who desired nothing better than his company, willingly and heartily agreed to this. And now hear how he paid them out.
These three worthy lords, Masters Ymbert, Roland, and Jehan Le Tourneur, stayed at Antwerp longer than they expected when they left Court, and each had brought but one shirt, and these and their handkerchiefs etc. became dirty, which was a great inconvenience to them, for the weather was very hot, it being Pentecost. So they gave them to the servant-maid at their lodgings to wash, one Saturday night when they went to bed, and they were to have them clean the following morning when they rose.
But Montbleru was on the watch. When the morning came, the maid, who had washed the shirts and handkerchiefs, and dried them, and folded them neatly and nicely, was called away by her mistress to go to the butcher to seek provisions for the dinner. She did as her mistress ordered, and left all these clothes in the kitchen, on a stool, expecting to find them on her return, but in this she was disappointed, for Montbleru, when he awoke and saw it was day, got out of bed, and putting on a dressing gown over his shirt, went downstairs.
He went into the kitchen, where there was not a living soul, but only the shirts, handkerchiefs, and other articles, asking to be taken. Montbleru saw his opportunity, and took them, but was much puzzled to know where he could hide them. Once he thought of putting them amongst the big copper pots and pans which were in the kitchen; then of hiding them up his sleeve; but finally he concealed them in the hay in the stable, with a big heap of straw on the top, and that being done, he returned to bed and lay down by the side of Jehan Le Tourneur.
When the servant maid came back from the butcher’s, she could not find the shirts, at which she was much vexed, and she asked everybody she met if they had seen them? They all told her they knew nothing about them, and God knows what a time she had. Then came the servants of these worthy lords, who expected the shirts and were afraid to go to their masters without them, and grew angry because the shirts could not be found, and so did the host, and the hostess, and the maid.
When it was about nine o’clock, these good lords called their servants, but none of them answered, for they were afraid to tell their masters about the loss of their shirts; but at last, however, when it was between 11 and 12 o’clock, the host came, and the servants, and told the gentlemen how their shirts had been stolen, at which news two of them—Masters Ymbert and Roland—lost patience, but Jehan Le Tourneur took it easily, and did nothing but laugh, and called Montbleru, who pretended to be asleep, but who heard and knew all, and said to him,
“Montbleru, we are all in a nice mess. They have stolen our shirts.”
“Holy Mary! what do you say?” replied Montbleru, pretending to be only just awake. “That is bad news.”
When they had discussed the robbery of their shirts for a long time—Montbleru well knew who was the thief—these worthy lords said;
“It is late, and we have not yet heard Mass, and it is Sunday, and we cannot very well go without a shirt. What is to be done?”
“By my oath!” said the host, “I know of nothing better than to lend you each one of my shirts, such as they are. They are not as good as yours, but they are clean, and there is nothing better to be done.”
They were obliged to take their host’s shirts which were too short and too small, and made of hard, rough linen, and God knows they were a pretty sight in them.
They were soon ready, thank God, but it was so late that they did not know where they could hear Mass. Then said Montbleru, in his familiar way,
“As for hearing Mass, it is too late to-day; but I know a church in this town where at least, we shall not fail to see God.”
“That is better than nothing,” said the worthy lords. “Come, come! let us get away, for it is very late, and to lose our shirts, and not to hear Mass to-day would be a double misfortune; and it is time we went to church if we want to hear Mass.”
Montbleru took them to the principal church in Antwerp, where there is a God on an ass (*).
(*) A picture or bas-relief, representing Christ’s entry
into Jerusalem, is probably meant.
When they had each said a paternoster, they said to Montbleru, “Where shall we see God?”
“I will show you,” he replied. Then he showed them God mounted on an ass, and added, “You will never fail to find Him here at whatever hour you come.”
They began to laugh in spite of the discomfort their shirts caused them. Then they went back to dinner, and were after that I know not how many days at Antwerp, and left without their shirts, for Montbleru had hidden them in a safe place, and afterwards sold them for five gold crowns.
Now God so willed that in the first week of Lent, Montbleru was at dinner with the three worthy gentlemen before named, and in the course of his talk he reminded them of the shirts they had lost at Antwerp, and said,
“Alas, the poor thief who robbed you will be damned for that, unless God and you pardon him. Do you bear him any ill-will?”
“By God!” said Master Ymbert, “my dear sir, I have thought no more about it,—I had forgotten it long since.”
“At least,” said Montbleru, “you pardon him, do you not?”
“By St. John!” he replied, “I would not have him damned for my sake.”
“By my oath, that is well said,” answered Montbleru. “And you Master Roland,—do you also pardon him?”
After a good deal of trouble, he agreed to pardon the thief, but as the theft rankled in his mind, he found the word hard to pronounce.
“And will you also pardon him, Master Roland?” said Montbleru. “What will you gain by having a poor thief damned for a wretched shirt and handkerchief?”
“Truly I pardon him,” said he. “He is quit as far as I am concerned, since there is nothing else to be done.”
“By my oath, you are a good man,” said Montbleru.
Then came the turn of Jehan Le Tourneur. Montbleru said to him,
“Now, Jehan, you will not be worse than the others. Everything will be pardoned to this poor stealer of shirts unless you object.”
“I don’t object,” he replied. “I have long since pardoned him, and I will give him absolution into the bargain.”
“You could not say more,” rejoined Montbleru, “and by my oath I am greatly obliged to you for having pardoned the thief who stole your shirts, as far as I personally am concerned, for I am the thief who stole your shirts at Antwerp. So I profit by your free pardon, and thank you for it, as I ought to do.”
When Montbleru confessed this theft, and had been forgiven by all the party as you have heard, it need not be asked if Masters Ymbert, Roland, and Jehan Le Tourneur were astonished, for they had never suspected that it was Montbleru who had played that trick upon them, and they reproached him playfully with the theft. But he, knowing his company, excused himself cleverly for having played such a joke upon them, and told them that it was his custom to take whatever he found unprotected,—especially with people like them.
They only laughed, but asked him how he had managed to effect the theft, and he told them the whole story, and said also that he had made five crowns out of his booty, after which they asked him no more.
STORY THE SIXTY-FOURTH — THE OVER-CUNNING CURÉ. [64]
By Michault De Changy.
Of a priest who would have played a joke upon a gelder named Trenche-couille, but, by the connivance of his host, was himself castrated.
There formerly lived in this country, in a place that I have a good reason for not mentioning (if any should recognise it, let him be silent as I am) a curé who was over-fond of confessing his female parishioners. In fact, there was not one who had not had to do with him, especially the young ones—for the old he did not care.
When he had long carried on this holy life and virtuous exercise, and his fame had spread through all the country round, he was punished in the way that you will hear, by one of his parishioners, to whom, however, he had done nothing concerning his wife.
He was one day at dinner, and enjoying himself, at the inn kept by his parishioner, and as they were in the midst of their dinner, there came a man named Trenchecouille, whose business it was to cut cattle, pull teeth, and other matters, and who had come to the inn for one of these purposes.
The host received him well, and asked him to sit down, and, without being much pressed, he sat down with the curé and the others, to eat.
The curé, who was a great joker, began to talk to this gelder and asked him a hundred thousand questions about his business, and the gelder replied as he best could.
At the end, the curé turned to the host, and whispered in his ear,
“Shall we play a trick upon this gelder?”
“Oh, yes, let us,” replied the host. “But how shall we do it?”
“By my oath,” said the curé, “we will play him a pretty trick, if you will help me.”
“I am quite willing,” replied the host.
“I will tell you what we will do,” said the curé. “I will pretend to have a pain in the testicle, and bargain with him to cut it out; then I will be bound and laid on the table all ready, and when he comes near to cut me, I will jump up and show him my backside.”
“That is well said,” replied my host, who at once saw what he had to do. “We shall never hit on anything better. We will all help you with the joke.”
“Very well,” said the curé.
After this the curé began again to rally the gelder, and at last told him that he had want of a man like him, for that he had a testicle all diseased and rotten, and would like to find a man who would extract it, and he said it so quietly and calmly that the gelder believed him, and replied;
“Monsieur le curé, I would have you know that without either disparaging myself or boasting, there is not a man in this country who can do the job better than I can, and for the sake of the host here, I will do my best to satisfy you.”
“Truly, that is well said;” replied the curé.
In short, all was agreed, and when the dinner had been removed, the gelder began to make his preparations, and on the other hand the curé prepared to play the practical joke, (which was to turn out no joke for him) and told the host and the others what they were to do.
Whilst these preparations were being made on both sides, the host went to the gelder, and said,
“Take care, and, whatever the priest may say, cut out both his testicles, clean,—and fail not, if you value your carcass.”
“By St. Martin, I will,” replied the gelder, “since you wish it. I have ready a knife so sharp that I will present you with his testicles before he has time to say a word.”
“We shall see what you can do,” said the host, “but if you fail, I will never again have anything to do with you.”
All being ready, the table was brought, and the curé, in his doublet, pretended to be in great pain, and promised a bottle of good wine to the gelder.
The host and his servants laid hold of the curé so that he could not get away, and for better security they tied him tightly, and told him that was to make the joke better, and that they would let him go when he wished, and he like a fool believed them. Then came the brave gelder, having a little rasor concealed in his hand, and began to feel the cure’s testicles.
“In the devil’s name,” said the curé, “do it well and with one cut. Touch them first as you can, and afterwards I will tell you which one I want taken out.”
“Very well,” he replied, and lifting up the shirt, took hold of the testicles, which were big and heavy and without enquiring which was the bad one, cut them both out at a single stroke.
The good curé began to yell, and make more ado than ever man made.
“Hallo, hallo!” said the host; “have patience. What is done, is done. Let us bandage you up.”
The gelder did all that was necessary, and then went away, expecting a handsome present from the host.
It need not be said that the curé was much grieved at this deprivation, and he reviled the host, who was the cause of the mischief, but God knows he excused himself well, and said that if the gelder had not disappeared so quickly, he would have served him so that he would never have cut any one again.
“As you imagine,” he said, “I am greatly grieved at your misfortune, and still more that it should have happened in my inn.”
The news soon spread through the town, and it need not be said that many damsels were vexed to find themselves deprived of the cure’s instrument, but on the other hand the long-suffering husbands were so happy that I could neither speak nor write the tenth part of their joy.
Thus, as you have heard, was the curé, who had deceived and duped so many others, punished. Never after that did he dare to show himself amongst men, but soon afterwards ended in grief and seclusion his miserable life.
