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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b57830f --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #67026 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67026) diff --git a/old/67026-0.txt b/old/67026-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ffbccc5..0000000 --- a/old/67026-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11377 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Lives of Fair and Gallant Ladies. Vol -2., by Seigneur De Brantôme - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Lives of Fair and Gallant Ladies. Vol 2. - -Author: Seigneur De Brantôme - -Release Date: December 27, 2021 [eBook #67026] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Chris Curnow, Quentin Campbell, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIVES OF FAIR AND GALLANT -LADIES. VOL 2. *** - - - Transcriber’s Note - -In the following transcription, italic text is denoted by _underscores_. -Small capitals in the original text have been transcribed as ALL -CAPITALS. - -Superscripts in the text are denoted by a prefixing caret symbol (^). -A letter (as in 8^o), or letters in curly braces (as in I^{er}), that -follow the caret symbol are to be read as superscripts. - -See end of this document for details of corrections and other changes. - - —————————————— Start of Book —————————————— - - - Lives of - - Fair and Gallant Ladies - - ———— - - VOLUME II - - - - - [Illustration: Marguerite of Valois - _From an old engraving._] - - - - - Lives - - Of - - Fair and Gallant Ladies - - By - - The Seigneur De Brantôme - - - TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL - - - ———— - VOLUME II - ———— - - - The Alexandrian Society, Inc. - - London and New York - - 1922 - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY - THE ALEXANDRIAN SOCIETY, INC. - - - PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - - - - - [Illustration: Decorative scrollwork above chapter start] - - - - - CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - INTRODUCTION. BY GEORG HARSDÖRFER vii - - - FIFTH DISCOURSE - - TELLING HOW FAIR AND HONORABLE LADIES DO LOVE - BRAVE AND VALIANT MEN, AND BRAVE MEN COURAGEOUS - WOMEN 3 - - - SIXTH DISCOURSE - - OF HOW WE SHOULD NEVER SPEAK ILL OF LADIES, AND - OF THE CONSEQUENCES OF SO DOING 91 - - - SEVENTH DISCOURSE - - CONCERNING MARRIED WOMEN, WIDOWS AND MAIDS: TO WIT, WHICH - OF THESE SAME BE BETTER THAN THE OTHER TO LOVE 151 - - ARTICLE I. OF THE LOVE OF MARRIED WOMEN 156 - ARTICLE II. OF THE LOVE OF MAIDS 171 - ARTICLE III. OF THE LOVE OF WIDOWS 203 - - NOTES 335 - - - - - [Illustration: Decorative scrollwork above chapter start] - - - - - INTRODUCTION - - -The Mondragola of Machiavelli, which reflects Italian morals at the -time of the Renaissance, is well known. Lafontaine has later made use -of this motif in one of his humorous stories. In the fourth chapter -Liguro arrays in battle order an officer, a valet and a doctor, for a -humorous love expedition. Liguro says: “In the right corner we shall -place Callimaque; I shall place myself in the extreme left corner, and -the doctor in the middle. He will be called St. Cuckold.” - -An interlocutor: “Who is this Saint?” - -“The greatest Saint of France.” - -This question and the answer given are delicious. Brantôme might have -made this witticism even in his time. Perhaps he merely did not write -it down, for after all he could not make too extensive use of his -favorite play with the word “cocu.” - -“The cuckold, the greatest Saint of France”; this might have been the -motto of the “Dames Galantes.” Philarete Chasles would have denied -this, of course. He always maintained that Gaul was pure and chaste, -and that if France was full of vice, it had merely been infected by -neighboring peoples. But this worthy academician was well informed -merely regarding Italian influence. He was extremely unaware of the -existence of the cuckold in the sixteenth century. He even asserts in -the strongest terms (in his preface to the edition of 1834) that all -of this had not been so serious; the courtiers had merely desired to -be immoral in an elegant fashion. He even calls Brantôme “un fanfaron -de licence,” a braggart of vice. Indeed he would feel unhappy if he -could not reassure us: “Quand il se plonge dans les impuretes, c’est, -croyez-moi, pure fanfaronnade de vice.” Who would not smile at this -worthy academician who has remained so unfamiliar with the history of -his kings? His “believe me” sounds very well. But the best is yet to -come. The book of the “Dames Galantes” was by no means to be considered -merely a frivolous collection of scandalous anecdotes, but a “curious -historical document.” - -There will probably always be a difference of opinion regarding -Brantôme’s position in the history of civilization. It will probably -be impossible to change the judgments of the ordinary superficial -reader. But we do not wish to dispose of Brantôme as simply as that. -It is very easy for a Puritan to condemn him. But we must seek to form -a fairer judgment. Now in order to overcome this difficulty, it is, of -course, very tempting simply to proclaim his importance for the history -of civilization and to put him on the market as such. This would not -be wrong, but this method has been used altogether too freely, both -properly and improperly. Besides, Brantôme is too good to be labelled -in this manner. He does not need it either, he is of sufficient -historical importance even without its being pointed out. The question -now arises: From what point of view are we then to comprehend Brantôme? -We could answer, from the time in which he lived. But that, speaking -in such general terms, is a commonplace. It is not quite correct -either. For in spite of the opinions of the educated we must clearly -distinguish between Brantôme as an author and Brantôme as a man—and we -shall hear more of this bold anarchistic personality, who almost throws -his chamberlain’s key back at the king. This is another striking case -where the author must by no means be identified with his book. These -events might have passed through another person’s mind; they would -have remained the same nevertheless. For Brantôme did not originate -them, he merely chronicled them. Now it usually happens that things -are attributed to an author of which he is entirely innocent (does not -Society make an author pay for his confessions in book-form?). He -is even charged with a crime when he merely reports such events. The -responsibility which Brantôme must bear for his writings is greatly -to be limited. And if our educated old maids simply refuse to be -reconciled with his share we need merely tell them that this share is -completely neutralized by his own personal life. - -Brantôme undoubtedly considered himself an historian. That was a -pardonable error. There is a great difference of opinion regarding the -historical value of his reports, the most general opinion being that -Brantôme’s accuracy is in no way to be relied upon, and that he was -more a chronicler and a writer of memoirs. To be sure, Brantôme cannot -prove the historical accuracy of every statement he makes. Who would be -able to give an exact account of this kaleidoscope of details? But the -significance, the symbolic value is there. - -In order to substantiate this sharp distinction between the book of -Fair and Gallant Ladies and the supposed character of its author, I -must be permitted to describe France of the sixteenth century. Various -essayists have said that this period had been quite tame and pure -in morals, that Brantôme had merely invented and exaggerated these -stories. But when they began to cite examples, it became evident that -their opinion was like a snake biting its own tail. Their examples -proved the very opposite of their views. - -Brantôme’s book could only have been written at the time of the last of -the Valois. These dissolute kings furnished material for his book. Very -few of these exploits can be charged to his own account, and even these -he relates in an impersonal manner. Most of them he either witnessed or -they were related to him, largely by the kings themselves. No matter -in what connection one may read the history of the second half of the -sixteenth century, the dissolute, licentious and immoral Valois are -always mentioned. The kings corrupted this period to such an extent -that Brantôme would have had to be a Heliogabalus in order to make his -own contributions felt. - -At the beginning of this period we meet with the influence of the -Italian Renaissance. Through the crusades of Charles VIII., France -came into close contact with it. These kings conducted long wars for -the possession of Milan, Genoa, Siena and Naples. A dream of the -South induced the French to cross the Alps, and every campaign was -followed by a new flood of Italian culture. If at the beginning of the -sixteenth century France was not yet the Capital of grand manners, -it approached this condition with giant strides during the reign of -Francis I. For now there was added an invasion of Spanish culture. Next -to Rome, Madrid had the greatest influence upon Paris. Francis I., this -chivalrous king (1515–1547), introduced a flourishing court life. He -induced Italian artists such as Leonardo and Cellini to come to Blois -and try to introduce the grand Spanish manners into his own court. For -a time France still seemed to be an imitation of Italy, but a poor -one. With the preponderance of the Spanish influence the Etiquette of -Society approached its perfection. - -Francis I. therefore brought knighthood into flower. He considered a -nobleman the foremost representative of the people and prized chivalry -more than anything else. The court surrendered itself to a life of -gaiety and frivolity; even at this period the keeping of mistresses -became almost an official institution. “I have heard of the king’s -wish,” Brantôme relates, “that the noblemen of his court should not -be without a lady of their heart and if they did not do as he wished -he considered them simpletons without taste. But he frequently asked -the others the name of their mistresses and promised to help and to -speak for them. Such was his kindness and intimacy.” Francis I. is -responsible for this saying: “A court without women is like a year -without a spring, like a spring without roses.” To be sure, there was -also another side to this court life. There were serious financial -troubles, corruption in administration and sale of offices. The Italian -architects who constructed the magnificent buildings of Saint Germain, -Chantilly, Chambord and Chenonceaux were by no means inexpensive. Great -interest was also taken in literary things. A more refined French was -developed at this period. In Blois a library, Chambre de Librarye, -was established. All of the Valois had great talent in composing -poetic epistles, songs and stories, not merely Marguerite of Navarre, -the sister of Francis I., who following the example of her brother -was a patroness of the arts. To be sure, mention is also made of the -“terrifying immorality” in Pau, even though this may not have been -so bad. Brantôme is already connected with this court life in Pau. -His grandmother, Louise of Daillon, Seneschal of Poitiers, was one -of the most intimate ladies-in-waiting of the Queen of Navarre. His -mother, Anne of Bourdeille, is even introduced in several stories of -the _Heptameron_. She is called Ennasuite, and his father Francis of -Bourdeille appears as Simontaut. Life in the Louvre became more and -more lax. Francis I., this royal Don Juan, is even said to have been -a rival of his son, without our knowing, however, whether this refers -to Catherine of Medici or to Diana of Poitiers. Another version of the -story makes Henri II. a rival of his father for the favor of Diana of -Poitiers. But the well known revenge of that deceived nobleman which -caused the death of Francis I. was entirely unnecessary. It is said -that the king had been intentionally infected. He could not be healed -and died of this disease. At any rate, his body was completely poisoned -by venereal ulcers, when he died. This physical degeneration was a -terrible heritage which he left to his son, Henri II. (1547–1550). - -The latter had in the meantime married Catherine of Medici. Italian -depravities now crossed the Alps in even greater numbers. She was -followed by a large number of astrologers, dancers, singers, conjurors -and musicians who were like a plague of locusts. She thus accelerated -the cultural process, she steeped the court of Henri II. as well as -that of his three sons in the spirit of Italy and Spain. (The numerous -citations of Brantôme indicate the frequency and closeness of -relations at this time between France and Spain, the classical country -of chivalry.) But her greed for power was always greater than her -sensual desires. Though of imposing exterior, she was not beautiful, -rather robust, ardently devoted to hunting, and masculine also in the -quantity of food she consumed. She talked extremely well and made -use of her literary skill in her diplomatic correspondence, which is -estimated at about 6,000 letters. She was not, however, spared the -great humiliation of sharing the bed and board of her royal husband -with Madame de Valentinois, Diana of Poitiers, the mistress of Henri -II. In this difficult position with an ignorant and narrow-minded -husband who was moreover completely dominated by his favorites, she -maintained a very wise attitude. Catherine of Medici was, of course, an -intriguing woman who later tried to carry out her most secret purposes -in the midst of her own celebrations. - -Henri II. had four sons and a daughter, who were born to him by -Catherine of Medici after ten years of sterility. In them the tragic -fate of the last of the Valois was fulfilled. One after the other -mounts the throne which is devoid of any happiness. The last of them -is consumed when he has barely reached it. The blood of the Valois -would have died out completely but for its continuation in the Bourbons -through Marguerite, the last of the Valois, who with her bewitching -beauty infatuated men and as the first wife of Henri IV. filled the -world with the reports of her scandalous life. There is tragedy in the -fact that the book of Fair and Gallant Ladies was dedicated to Alençon, -the last and youngest of the Valois. Of these four sons each was more -depraved than the other; they furnished the material for Brantôme’s -story. The book of Fair and Gallant Ladies, therefore, also seals the -end of the race. - -The line began with Francis II. He mounted the throne when he was a boy -of sixteen. He was as weak mentally as he was physically. He died in -1560, less than a year later, “as a result of an ulcer in the head.” -Then Catherine of Medici was Regent for ten years. In 1571 the next -son, Charles, was old enough to mount the throne. He was twenty-two -years old, tall and thin, weak on his legs, with a stooping position -and sickly pale complexion. Thus he was painted by François Clouet, -called Janet, a famous painting which is now in possession of the Duke -of Aumale. While a young prince, he received the very best education. -His teachers were Amyot and Henri Estienne, with whom he read Plotin, -Plato, Virgil, Cicero, Tacitus, Polybius and Machiavelli. Amyot’s -translation of Plutarch’s Lives delighted the entire court. “The -princesses of the House of France,” Brantôme relates, “together with -their ladies-in-waiting and maids-of-honor, took the greatest pleasure -in the sayings of the Greeks and Romans which have been preserved -by sweet Plutarch.” Thus literature came into its own even in this -court life. But they did not merely do homage to the old classical -literature, all of them were also versed in the art of the sonnet, and -were able to rhyme graceful love songs as well as Ronsard. Charles IX. -himself wrote poetry and translated the Odes of Horace into French. -His effeminate nature, at one moment given to humiliating excesses -and in the next consumed by pangs of conscience, was fond of graceful -and frivolous poetry. But there was also some good in this movement. -Whereas the French language had been officially designated in 1539 -as the Language of Law, to be used also in lectures, Charles IX. now -gave his consent in 1570 for the founding of a Society to develop -and purify the language. But even in this respect the honest de Thou -denounced “this depraved age” and spoke of “the poisoning of women -by immoral songs.” This worthy man himself wrote Latin, of course. -A time of disorder was now approaching, the revolts of the Huguenots -were sweeping through France. But these very disorders and dangers -encouraged a certain bold carelessness and recklessness. Murder was -slinking through the streets. It was the year of St. Bartholomew’s Eve. -The Duke of Anjou himself relates that he feared to be stabbed by his -own brother king, Charles IX., and later when he himself mounted the -throne his brother Alençon was in conspiracy against him. The Mignons -and the Rodomonts, the coxcombs and braggarts, were increasing at this -depraved court. Soon it was able seriously to compete with Madrid and -Naples. Indeed the people down there now began to look up to France as -the centre of fashion. Brantôme was the first to recognize this and he -was glad of it. Indeed he even encouraged it. Even at that time the -Frenchman wished to be superior to all other people. - -The king was completely broken by the results of St. Bartholomew’s Eve. -His mind wandered back and forth. He became gloomy and vehement, had -terrible hallucinations, and heard the spirits of the dead in the air. -By superhuman exertions he tried to drown his conscience and procure -sleep. He was constantly hunting, remaining in the saddle continuously -from twelve to fourteen hours and often three days in succession. When -he did not hunt he fenced or played ball or stood for three to four -hours at the blacksmith’s anvil swinging an enormous hammer. Finally, -consumption forced him to stay in bed. But even now he passed his time -by writing about his favorite occupation, he was composing the _Livre -du Roy Charles_, a dissertation on natural history and the deer hunt. -When he reached the twenty-ninth chapter death overtook him. This -fragment deserves praise, it was well thought out and not badly written. - -It is always unpleasant to say of a king that he had more talent to -be an author than a king. It is unfortunate but true that the Valois -were a literary race. But France itself in 1577 was in a sorry state. -Everywhere there were ruins of destroyed villages and castles. There -were enormous stretches of uncultivated land and cattle-raising was -greatly diminished. There were many loafing vagabonds accustomed to war -and robbery who were a danger to the traveller and the farmer. Every -province, every city, almost every house was divided against itself. - -Francis of Alençon, the fourth of these brothers, who felt himself -coming of age, the last of the Valois, had already begun his agitation. -Charles IX. despised him and suspected his secret intrigues. His other -brother, Henri, had to watch his every step in order to feel secure. - -Henri III. (1574–1589), formerly Henri of Anjou, was barely twenty-five -years old when his strength was exhausted. But his greed of power which -had already made him king of the Polish throne was still undiminished. -He was the most elegant, the most graceful and the most tasteful of the -Valois. It was therefore only to be expected that he would introduce -new forms of stricter etiquette. D’Aubigne relates that he was a good -judge of the arts, and that he was “one of the most eloquent men of -his age.” He was always on the search for poetry to gratify his erotic -impulses. A life of revelry and pleasure now began in the palace. -Immorality is the mildest reproach of his contemporary chroniclers. -Although well educated and a friend of the Sciences, of Poetry and the -Arts, as well as gifted by nature with a good mind, he was nevertheless -very frivolous, indifferent, physically and mentally indolent. He -almost despised hunting as much as the conscientious discharge of -government affairs. He greatly preferred to be in the society of women, -himself dressed in a feminine fashion, with two or three rings in -each ear. He usually knew what was right and proper, but his desires, -conveniences and other secondary matters prevented him from doing it. -He discharged all the more serious and efficient men and surrounded -himself with insignificant coxcombs, the so-called Mignons, with -whom he dallied and adorned himself, and to whom he surrendered the -government of the state. These conceited young men, who were without -any redeeming merit, simply led a gay life at the court. In his History -of France (I, 265), Ranke relates: “He surrounded himself with young -people of pleasing appearance who tried to outdo him in cleanliness of -dress and neatness of appearance. To be a favorite, a Mignon, was not -a question of momentary approval but a kind of permanent position.” -Assassinations were daily occurrences. D’Aubigne severely criticized -the terrifying conditions in the court and public life in general. A -chronicler says: “At that time anything was permitted except to say -and do what was right and proper.” This frivolous, scandalous court -consumed enormous sums of money. Such a miserable wretch as Henri III. -required for his personal pleasures an annual sum of 1,000,000 gold -thalers, which is equivalent to about $10,000,000 in present values, -and yet the entire state had to get along with 6,000,000 thalers. For -this was all that could be squeezed out of the country. Ranke says -(page 269): “In a diary of this period, the violent means of obtaining -money and the squandering of the same by the favorites are related side -by side, and it shows the disagreeable impression that these things -made.” Then there was also the contrast between his religious and his -worldly life. At one time he would steep his feelings in orgies, then -again he would parade them in processions. He was entirely capable of -suddenly changing the gayest raiment for sackcloth and ashes. He would -take off his jewel-covered belt and put on another covered with skulls. -And in order that Satan might not be lacking, the criminal court -(“chambre ardente”) which was established at Blois had plenty of work -to do during his reign. It was also evident that he would never have -any children with his sickly wife. - -This same Henry III. while still Duke of Orleans tried to gain the -favor of Brantôme, who was then twenty-four years old, and when he -entered upon his reign appointed him his chamberlain. This appointment -took place in 1574. At the same time, however, Francis of Alençon -sought his favor. Subsequently Brantôme entered into very intimate -relations with him. - -Alençon is described to us as being small though well built but with -coarse, crude features, with the temper and irritability of a woman and -even greater cowardliness, likewise unreliable, ambitious and greedy. -He was a very vain, frivolous person without political or religious -convictions. From his youth up he was weak and sickly. His brother -Henri despised and hated him and kept him a barely concealed prisoner -as long as he could. Then Alençon revolted, gathered armies, founded a -new Ultra-Royal party and moved on Paris. He even wished at one time to -have his mother removed from the court, who was still carrying on her -intrigues throughout the entire kingdom. They were obliged to negotiate -with him and he succeeded in extorting an indemnity which was almost -equal to a royal authority. He received five duchies and four earldoms -and his court had the power of passing death sentences. He had a guard -and a corps of pages in expensive liveries and conducted a brilliant -court. We must try and picture him as Ranke describes him, “small -and stocky, of an obstinate bearing, bushy black hair over his ugly -pock-marked face, which, however, was brightened by a fiery eye.” - -The book of Fair and Gallant Ladies is dedicated to Alençon, but he did -not see it any more. Brantôme, however, must have begun it while he was -still living. Alençon died in 1584 at the age of thirty-one. - -Five years later Henri III. was stabbed by Jacques Clement. Thus the -race of Henri III., which was apparently so fruitful, had withered in -his sons. The remaining sister, who was inferior according to the Salic -Law, was also extremely immoral. - -Her husband, Henry IV., entered a country that was completely -exhausted. The state debt at the time he entered upon his reign clearly -showed the spirit of the previous governments. In 1560 the state debt -was 43,000,000 livres. At the end of the century it had risen to -300,000,000. The Valois sold titles and dignities to the rich, squeezed -them besides and were finally capable of mortgaging anything they could -lay their hands upon. In 1595 Henri IV. remarked in Blois that “the -majority of the farms and almost all the villages were uninhabited and -empty.” This mounting of the state debt clearly indicates the extent of -the depravity of the court. During the reign of Charles IX. and Henri -III., that is between 1570 and 1590, the dissoluteness reached its -height and this made it possible for Brantôme to collect such a large -number of stories and anecdotes. Catherine of Medici, who outlived her -race by a year and whose influence continued during this entire period, -does not seem to have been a saint herself. But the last three of the -Valois were the worst, the most frivolous and lascivious of them all. -It was during their reign that the rule of mistresses was at its height -in the Louvre and the royal castles which furnished Brantôme with his -inexhaustible material. Such were the Valois. - -This is the background of Brantôme’s life. We should like to know more -about him. He has written about many generals and important women of -his age, but there are only fragments regarding himself. - -The family Bourdeille is one of the most important in Perigord. Like -other old races they sought to trace their ancestors back into the -times of Gaul and Rome. Charlemagne is said to have founded the Abbey -Brantôme. - -Brantôme’s father was the “first page of the royal litter.” His son -speaks of him as “un homme scabreaux, haut a la main et mauvais -garçon.” His mother, a born Châtaigneraie, was lady-in-waiting of the -Queen of Navarre. Pierre was probably also born in Navarre, but nothing -is known as to the exact day of birth. Former biographers simply -copied, one from the other, that he had died in 1614 at the age of -eighty-seven. This would make 1528 the year of his birth. But now it is -well known that Brantôme spent the first years of his life in Navarre. -Queen Marguerite died in 1549 and Brantôme later writes of his sojourn -at her court: “Moy estant petit garçon en sa court.” Various methods of -calculation seem to indicate that he was born in 1540. - -After the death of the Queen of Navarre—this is also a matter of -record—Brantôme went to Paris to take up his studies. From Paris, -where he probably also was a companion of the _enfants sanssouci_, he -went to Poitiers to continue them. There in 1555, while still “a young -student,” he became acquainted with the beautiful Gotterelle, who is -said to have had illicit relations with the Huguenot students. When he -had completed his studies in 1556 he as the youngest son had to enter -the church. He also received his share of the Abbey Brantôme from Henri -II. as a reward for the heroisms of his older brother. This young abbot -was about sixteen years old. His signature and his title in family -documents in this period are very amusing: “Révérend père en Dieu abbè -de Brantôme.” As an abbot he had no ecclesiastical duties. He was his -own pastor, could go to war, get married and do as he pleased. But -nevertheless, this ecclesiastical position did not suit him, and so he -raised 500 gold thalers by selling wood from his forests with which he -fitted himself out and then went off to Italy at the age of eighteen: -“Portant L’coquebuse a meche et un beau fourniment de Milan, monte -sur une haquenee de cent ecus et menant toujours six on sept gentils -hommes, armes et montes de meme, et bien en point sur bons courtands.” - -He simply went off wherever there was war. In Piedmont he was shot in -the face by an arrow which almost deprived him of his sight. There he -was lying in Portofino in these marvellously beautiful foothills along -the Genoese coast, and there he was strangely healed: “Une fort belle -dame de la ma jettait dans les yeux du lait de ses beaux et blancs -tetins” (_Vies des Capitaines français_, Ch. IV, 499). Then he went -to Naples with François de Guise. He himself describes his reception -by the Duke of Alcala. Here he also became acquainted with Madame de -Guast, die Marquise del Vasto. - -In 1560 he left Italy and took up the administration of his estates -which heretofore had been in the hands of his oldest brother, Andre. -He joined the court in Amboise, where Francis II. was conducting -tournaments. At the same time the House of Guise took notice of him. -In recollection of his uncle, La Châtaigneraie, he was offered high -protection at the court of Lorraine. From this time on he was at the -court for over thirty years. At first he accompanied the Duke of Guise -to his castle. Then after the death of Francis II. he accompanied his -widow, Mary Stuart, to England in August, 1561, and heard her final -farewell to France. - -Although Brantôme could not say enough in praise of the princes of -Lorraine, the Guises, he did not go over to their side. Once at a later -period when he was deeply embittered he allowed himself to be carried -away by them. At the outbreak of the civil wars, Brantôme, of course, -sided with the court. He also participated in the battle of Dreux. If -there happened to be no war in France he would fight somewhere abroad. -In 1564 he entered into closer relations with the court of the Duke of -Orleans (later Henri III.). He became one of his noblemen and received -600 livres annually. (The receipts are still in existence.) In the -same year he also took part in an expedition against the Berbers on -the Coast of Morocco. We find him in Lisbon and in Madrid, where he -was highly honored by the courts. When Sultan Soliman attacked Malta, -Brantôme also hurried thither. He returned by way of Naples and again -presented himself to the Marquise de Guast. He thought that at last he -had found his fortune but he felt constrained to continue his journey. -He later denounces this episode in the most vehement terms. “Toujours -trottant, traversant et vagabondant le monde.” He was on his way to a -new war in Hungary, but when he arrived in Venice he heard that it was -not worth while. He returned by way of Milan and Turin, where he gave -the impression of being greatly impoverished, but he was too proud to -accept the purse of the Duchess of Savoy. - -In the meantime, the Huguenots had forced the king to make greater -and greater concessions. Prince Condé and Admiral Coligny had the -upper hand. The Huguenots, who heard that Brantôme had reasons to -be displeased with the king, tried to induce him to commit treason. -But Brantôme remained firm. He was given the title Captain (“Maître -de camp”) of two companies even though he only had one—but that is -typical of the French. This company (enseigne) was under his command in -the Battle of St. Venis (1567). In the following year, 1568, Charles -IX. engaged him as a paid chamberlain. After the Battle of Jarnac in -the following year he was seized by a fever, as a result of which he -had to spend almost a year on his estates in order to recover. - -As soon as he was well again he wished to go off to war somewhere. -He complained that it had been impossible for him to participate -in the Battle of Lepanto. His friend, Strozzi, was now getting -ready an expedition to Peru, which was to recompense him. But some -misunderstanding caused his separation from Strozzi shortly afterwards. -The preparations for this expedition had, however, kept him away from -St. Bartholomew’s Eve, even though later he cursed them for personal -reasons. - -Brantôme was not religious. He cannot be considered a good judge in -affairs of the Huguenots, for he was more than neutral in religious -matters. He took an indifferent attitude towards the League. For as -a secular priest, he had the very best reasons for being neither in -favor of the League nor of the Huguenots. He speaks with great respect -of Coligny. They frequently met and the admiral was always friendly. -Brantôme disapproved of the Massacre of St. Bartholomew’s Eve and -considered it entirely reprehensible and purposeless. This good warrior -would have greatly preferred to have seen these restless spirits -engaged in a foreign war. He says of this bloody eve: “Mort malheurse -lu puis—je bien appeller pour toute la France.” To be sure, in the -following year he was present at the Siege of La Rochelle, the White -City. - -He was at the court when Charles IX. died. He accompanied the corpse -from Notre Dame to St. Denis and then entered the services of Henri -III., who finally bestowed some favors upon the brothers Bourdeille and -gave them the Bishopric of Perigneux. - -Then this restless soul was driven to approach Alençon, the youngest -of the Valois. Bussy d’Amboise, the foremost nobleman of Alençon, was -his friend. Alençon overwhelmed him with kindness and Brantôme had to -beg the angry king’s pardon for his defection. - -But now an event occurred which almost drove Brantôme into open -rebellion. In 1582 his oldest brother died. The Abbey had belonged -to both of them, but his brother had appointed his own heir and the -king was helpless against this. Brantôme became very angry because he -was not the heir. “Je ne suis qu’un ver de terre,” he writes. He now -desired that the king should at least give his share of the Abbey to -his nephew, but he was unsuccessful in this as well. Aubeterre became -Seneschal and Governor of Perigord. This fault-finder could not control -his anger: “Un matin, second jour de premier de l’an ... je luy en fis -ma plainte; il m’en fit des excuses, bien qu’il fust mon roy. Je ne luy -respondis autre chose sinon: Eh bien, Sire, vous ne m’avez donne se -coup grand subject de vous faire jainais service comme j’ay faict.” And -so he ran off “fort despit.” As he left the Louvre he noticed that the -golden chamberlain’s key was still hanging on his belt; he tore it off -and threw it into the Seine, so great was his anger. - -(When Aubeterre died in 1593 these posts were returned to the family -Bourdeille.) - -(Other reasons which angered Brantôme were less serious. Thus he could -not bear Montaigne because the latter was of more recent nobility. He -himself has shown that a man of the sword could very well take up the -pen to pass the time. But he could not understand that the opposite -might happen, and a sword given to a man of the pen. He was appointed -a knight in the Order of St. Michael. But this did not satisfy his -ambition very much when he looked around and saw that he had to share -this distinction with many other men. He wished to have it limited -to the nobility of the sword. Now his neighbor, Michel de Montaigne, -received the same order. Brantôme writes regarding this: “We have seen -councillors leave the courts of justice, put down their robe and their -four-cornered hat and take up a sword. Immediately the king bestowed -the distinction upon them without their ever having gone to war. This -has happened to Monsieur de Montaigne, who would have done better -to remain at his trade and continue to write his essays rather than -exchange his pen for a sword which was not nearly so becoming.”) - -Henri II. pardoned him his unmannerly behavior, but the king’s rooms -were closed to him. Then the Duke of Alençon wished to gain his -allegiance and appointed him chamberlain, thereby rewarding him for the -intimate relationship which had existed between them ever since 1579. -The duke was the leader of the dissatisfied and so this fault-finder -was quite welcome to him. The book of Fair and Gallant Ladies is the -direct result of the conversations at the Court of Alençon, for we hear -that Brantôme soon wrote a few discourses which he dedicated to the -prince. Brantôme sold himself to Alençon, which is almost to be taken -literally. Then Alençon died. Brantôme’s hopes were now completely -crushed. - -What was he to do now? He was angry at the king. His boundless anger -almost blinded him. Then the Guises approached him and tried to induce -him to swear allegiance to the enemies of the Valois. He was quite -ready to do this and was at the point of committing high treason, for -the King of Spain was behind the Guises, to whom he swore allegiance. -But the outbreak of the war of the Huguenots, which resulted in a -temporary depreciation of all estates, prevented him from carrying -out his plans immediately. He could not sell anything, and without -money life in Spain was impossible. But this new state of affairs gave -him new energy and new life. He walked about with “sprightly vigor.” -He later described his feelings in the _Capitaines français_ (Ch. -IV, 108): “Possible que, si je fusse venu an bout de vies attantes -et propositions, J’eusse faut plus de mal a ma patrie que jamais n’a -faict renegat d’Alger a’la sienne, dont J’en fusse este mandict a -perpetuite, possible de Dieu et des hommes.” - -Then a horse that he was about to mount, shied, rose up and fell, -rolling over him, so that all his ribs were broken. He was confined to -his bed for almost four years; crippled and lame, without being able to -move because of pain. - -When he was able to rise again the new order of things was in full -progress, and when the iron hand of Henri IV., this cunning Navarrese -and secret Huguenot, swept over France, the old court life also -disappeared. Brantôme was sickly and when the old Queen-mother Medici -also died (1590) he buried himself completely in his abbey and took no -interest henceforth in the events of his time. - -“Chaffoureur du papier”—this might be the motto of his further life. -Alas, writing was also such a resignation for Brantôme, otherwise he -would not have heaped such abuse upon it. But we must not imagine -that his literary talent only developed after his unfortunate fall. -Naturally he made quite different and more extensive use of it under -these conditions than he otherwise would have done. Stirring up his old -memories became more and more a means of mastering the sterile life -of that period. Literature is a product of impoverished life. It is -the opium intoxication of memory, the conjuring up of bygone events. -The death-shadowed eyes of Alençon had seen the first fragments of the -book of Fair and Gallant Ladies. The _Rondomontades Espagnoles_ must -have been finished in 1590, for he offered them to the Queen of Navarre -in the Castle of Usson in Auvergne. But beginning in 1590 there was a -conscious exchange of the sword for the pen. He knew himself well. On -his bed of pain the recollections of his varied life, his sufferings -and the complaints of his thwarted ambitions became a longed-for -distraction. He died July 15, 1614, and was buried in the Chapel of -Richemond. - -His manuscripts had a strange fate. They were the principal care of his -last will and testament. This in itself is a monument to his pride. -“J’ai bien de l’ambition,” he writes, “je la veux encore monstrer -apres ma mort.” He had decided elements of greatness. The books in his -library were to remain together, “set up in the castle and not to be -scattered hither and thither or loaned to anyone.” He wished to have -the library preserved “in eternal commemoration of himself.” He was -particularly interested in having his works published. He pretended to -be a knight, and a nobleman, and yet he prized most highly these six -volumes beautifully bound in blue, green and black velvet. His books, -furthermore, were not to be published with a pseudonym, but his own -name was to be openly printed on the title-page. He does not wish to be -deprived of his labors and his fame. He gave the strictest instructions -to his heirs, but he was constantly forced to make additions to the -will, because his executors died. He outlived too many of them and had -made his will too early. The instructions regarding the printing of his -books are very amusing: “Pour les faire imprimer mieux a ma fantaisie, -... y’ordonne et veux, que l’on prenne sur ma lotate heredite l’argent -qu ’en pouvra valoir la dite impression, et qui ne se pouvra certes -monter a beaucoup, cur j’ay veu force imprimeurs ... que s’ils out mis -une foys la veue, en donneront plusoost pour les imprimer qu’ils n’en -voudraient recepvoir; car ils en impriment plusierus gratis que no -valent pas les mieux. Je m’en puys bien vanter, mesmes que je les ay -monstrez au moins en partie, a aueuns qui les ont voulu imprimer sans -rien.... Mais je n’ay voulu qu ils fussent imprimez durant mon vivant. -Surtout, je veux que la dicte impression en soit en belle et gross -lettre, et grand colume, pour mieux paroistre....” The typographical -directions are quite modern. The execution of the will finally came -into the hands of his niece, the Countess of Duretal, but on account of -the offence that these books might give, she hesitated to carry out the -last will of her uncle. Then his later heirs refused to have the books -published, and locked the manuscripts in the library. In the course of -time, however, copies came into circulation, more and more copies were -made, and one of them found its way into the office of a printer. A -fragment was smuggled into the memoirs of Castelnau and was printed -with them in 1659. A better edition was now not far off. In 1665 and -1666 the first edition was published in Leyden by Jean Sambix. It -comprised nine volumes in Elzevir. This very incomplete and unreliable -edition was printed from a copy. Speculating printers now made a number -of reprints. A large number of manuscripts were now in circulation -which were named according to the copyists. In the 17th and 18th -centuries these books were invariably printed from copies. The edition -of 1822, _Oeuvres completes du seigneur de Brantôme_ (Paris: Foucault), -was the first to go back to the original manuscripts in possession of -the family Bourdeille. Monmergue edited it. The manuscript of the book -of Fair and Gallant Ladies was in the possession of the Baroness James -Rothschild as late as 1903. After her death in the beginning of 1904, -it came into possession of the National Library in Paris, which now has -all of Brantôme’s manuscripts, and also plans to publish a critical -revised edition of his collected works. - -The two books, _Vies des Dames illustres_ and _Vies des Dames -galantes_, were originally called by Brantôme Premier and Second Livre -des Dames. The new titles were invented by publishers speculating on -the taste of the times, which from 1660 to 1670 greatly preferred the -words illustre and galante. The best subsequent edition of the Fair and -Gallant Ladies is that printed by Abel Ledoux in Paris, 1834, which -was edited by Philarete Chasles, who also supplied an introduction and -notes. On the other hand, the critical edition of his collected works -in 1822 still contains the best information regarding Brantôme himself, -and the remarks by the editor Monmergue are very excellent and far -superior to the opinions which Philarete Chasles expresses, poetic as -they may be. The crayon-drawings and copper-cuts of Famous and Gallant -Ladies of the sixteenth century contained in Bouchot’s book, _Les -femmes de Brantôme_, are very good; Bouchot’s text, however, is merely -a re-hash of Brantôme himself. Neither must one over-estimate his -reflections regarding the author of the Fair and Gallant Ladies. - -There is a great difference between the two Livres des Dames. What is -an advantage in the one is a disadvantage in the other. Undoubtedly -Brantôme’s genius is best expressed in the _Dames Galantes_. In this -book the large number of symbolical anecdotes is the best method of -narration. In the other they are more or less unimportant. Of course, -Brantôme could not escape the questionable historical methods of -that period, but shares these faults with all of his contemporaries. -Besides, he was too good an author to be an excellent historian. The -devil take the historical connection, as long as the story is a good -one. - -The courtier Brantôme sees all of history from the perspective of -boudoir-wit. Therefore his portraits of famous ladies of his age are -mere mosaics of haphazard observations and opinions. He is a naïve -story-teller and therefore his ideas are seldom coherent. The value -of his biographical portraits consists in the fact that they are -influenced by his manner of writing, that they are the result of -scandal and gossip which he heard in the Louvre, or of conversations -in the saddle or in the trenches. He always preserves a respectful -attitude and restrains himself from spicing things too freely. He did -not allow himself to become a purveyor of malicious gossip, he took -great care not to offend his high connections by unbridled speech, but -his book lost interest on that account. - -If we wish to do justice to Brantôme as the author of Fair and Gallant -Ladies, we must try and picture his position in his age and in his -society. It is not to be understood that he suddenly invented all -of these stories during his long illness. Let us try and follow the -origin of these memoirs. At that time the most primitive conceptions -of literary work in general prevailed. The actual writing down of the -stories was the least. An author laboriously working out his stories -was ridiculous. The idea and the actual creative work came long before -the moment when the author sat down to write. None of Brantôme’s -stories originated in his abbey, but in Madrid, in Naples, in Malta -before La Rochelle, in the Louvre, in Blois and in Alençon. Writing -down a story was a reproduction of what had already been created, of -what had been formed and reformed in frequent retelling and polished -to perfection. The culture of the court was of great aid to him in his -style, but his own style was nevertheless far superior. - -For decades Brantôme was a nobleman of his royal masters. He was -constantly present at the court and participated in all of the major -and minor events of its daily life, in quarrels and celebrations. He -was a courtier. He was entirely at home in the halls and chambers -of the Louvre, but even though he stopped to chat with the idle -courtiers in the halls of the Louvre he never lowered himself to their -level. He could be extremely boisterous, yet inwardly he was reserved -and observant. He was the very opposite of the noisy, impetuous -Bussy-Rabutin. His intelligence and his wisdom made him a source of -danger among the chamberlains. His was a dual nature, he was at the -same time cynical and religious, disrespectful and enthusiastic, -refined and brutal, at the same time abbot, warrior and courtier. Like -Bernhard Palissy he ridiculed the astrologers, yet he was subject to -the superstitions of his age. His temperament showed that his cradle -had not been far from the banks of the Garonne, near the Gascogne. -There was combined with his bold, optimistic, adventurous and restless -spirit, with his chivalrous ideas and prejudices, a boundless vanity. -A contemporary said of him: “He was as boastful as Cellini.” Indeed -he believed himself far superior to his class, he not only boasted -of himself and his family, but also of his most insignificant deeds. -He was irreconcilable in hate, and even admonished his heirs to -revenge him. His royal masters he treated with respect tempered by -irony. As a contemporary of Rabelais, Marot and Ronsard, he was an -excellent speaker. If Rabelais had a Gallic mind then Brantôme’s was -French. His cheerful and lively conversation was pleasing to all. He -had a reputation of being a brilliant man. But he was also known as -a discreet person. Alençon, who was a splendid story-teller himself -and liked to hear love stories more than anything else, preferred -conversation with him to anyone. His naïveté and originality made -friends for him everywhere. He had a brave and noble nature and was -proud of being a Frenchman, he was the personified _gentilhomme -français_. - -And thus his book originated. He must have taken up his pen quite -spontaneously one day. Now from the great variety of his own -experiences at court and in war, he poured forth a remarkable wealth -of peculiar and interesting features which his memory had preserved. -It is a book of the love-life during the reign of the Valois. These -stories were not invented, but they were anecdotes and reports taken -from real life. He was able to evade the danger of boredom. There is -style even in his most impudent indiscretions. He only stopped at mere -obscenities. On the other hand, he never hesitated to be cynical. As -this age was fond of strong expressions, a puritanical language was out -of the question. Not until the reign of Louis XIV. did the language -become more polite. Neither was Brantôme a Puritan, how could he have -been? But he had character. He took pleasure in everything which was -a manifestation of human energy. He loved passion and the power to -do good or evil. (To be sure he also had some splendid things to say -against immoderacy and vehemence of passions. So he was a fit companion -of the Medici and the Valois.) - -There is not much composition in his books. His attention wandered -from one story to the other. Boccaccio, the foremost story-teller -of this period, is more logical. An academical critic says of -Brantôme: “He reports without choice what is good and bad, what is -noble and abominable, the good not without warmth, but the bad with -indestructible cheerfulness.” There is neither order nor method in his -writing. He passes on abruptly, without motif, without transition. A -courtier, unfamiliar with the rules of the school, he himself confesses -(in the _Rodomontades Espagnoles_): “Son pen de profession du scavoir -et de l’art de bien dire, et remet aux meux disans la belle disposition -de paroles eloquentes.” Because of the variety his stories have unusual -charm. In these numerous anecdotes the graceful indecencies of the -ladies-in-waiting at the court of the Valois are described as if they -had happened openly. His reports of the illicit relations are rendered -in a charming style. Even though his sketches and pictures are modelled -entirely on the life at the courts, nevertheless he adds two personal -elements: an amusing smile and a remarkable literary talent. The -following may even have been the case. In the beginning Brantôme may -have taken an entirely neutral attitude towards the material at hand, -but took no greater personal interest in them than he would, say, in -memoirs. But when we can tell a story well, then we also take pleasure -in our ability. We permeate the story with our own enjoyment, and in -a flash it turns out to be pleasure in the thing itself. The light -of our soul glows upon them and then the things themselves look like -gold. Brantôme rarely breaks through his reserve. He usually keeps -his own opinions regarding these grand ladies and gentlemen in the -background, he leaves it to the competent “grands discoureurs” to judge -these things. To be sure, if one wished to get information regarding -the court of Henri II. and Catherine of Medici, one ought not exactly -to read Brantôme, who creates the impression as if the court were a -model of a moral institution. “Sa compaignie et sa court estait un vray -paradis du monde et escole de toute honnestate, de virtu, l’ornement -de la France,” he once says somewhere in the _Dames illustres_ (page -64). On the other hand, L’Etorle in May, 1577, gives us a report of a -banquet given by the Queen-mother in Chenonceaux: “Les femmes les plus -belles et honnestes de la cour, estant a moitie nues et ayant, les -cheveux epars comme espousees, fuient employees a faire le service.” -Other contemporaries likewise report a great deal of the immorality -prevailing at the court. Thus we have curious reports regarding the -pregnancy of Limeuil, who had her birth-throes in the queen’s wardrobe -in Lyon (1564), the father being the Prince of Conde. Likewise, Johanna -d’Albret warns her son, later Henri IV., against the corruption of the -court. When she later visited him in Paris she was horrified at the -immorality at the court of her daughter-in-law, later Queen Margot, who -lived in the “most depraved and dissolute society.” (Brantôme pretended -that he was a relative of hers, and pronounced a panegyric upon her in -his Rodomontades which was answered in her memoirs dedicated to him.) -He did not feel it his mission to be a Savonarola. To his great regret -this “culture” came home to him in his own family. He had more and -more cause to be dissatisfied with his youngest sister, Madeleine. The -wicked life of this lady-in-waiting filled him with fury. He paid her -her share and drove her from the house. - -Certain Puritans among the historians find fault with Brantôme for -having uncovered the “abominations” at the courts of the Valois. His -vanity may have led him to make many modifications in the events, but -most of these are probably due to his desire to be entertaining. In his -dedication to the _Rodomontades Espagnoles_ he addresses Queen Margot -as follows: “Bien vous dirai-je, que ce que j’escrits est plein de -verite; de ce que j’ay veu, je l’asseure, di ce que j’ay seen et appris -d’autray, si on m’a trompe je n’en puis mais si tiens-je pourtant -beaucoup de choses de personnages et de livres tres-veritables et -dignes de foy.” Nevertheless, his method was very primitive. In his -descriptions of personalities, he had a thread on which he could string -up his recollections, so that there was at least some consistency. -In the book of Fair and Gallant Ladies the individual fact is of -less importance and has more of symbolic value. They are pictures of -the time composed of a confusing multitude of anecdotes. Perhaps -the subject-matter required this bizarre method. The _Heptameron_ of -Marguerite of Navarre was altogether too precise. Brantôme was a man -of the sword and a courtier, but a courtier who occasionally liked to -put his hand on his sword in between his witticisms. In this state of -mind, he was an excellent story-teller, and his anecdotes and stories -therefore also have the actuality and the vigorous composition of -naïvely related stories. - -The book of Fair and Gallant Ladies still contains much of historical -value. Almost all the old noble races are mentioned; there is -information regarding Navarre, Parma, Florence, Rome and Toulouse. The -Huguenots likewise appear, and St. Bartholomew’s Eve (1572), which -was far back, still sheds its gloom over these pages. The trenches -before La Rochelle play an important part; Brantôme always fought -against the Huguenots. Perhaps this was the reason why he was no -longer in favor with the Bourbon Henri IV. However, one cannot charge -him with animosity. Perhaps the frank and open methods of reforming -had affected him. Without taking interest in religious quarrels, he -probably also hated the monks and priests. Thus one would be inclined -to say to the Puritans who condemn Brantôme: If one may speak of guilt -and responsibility, then it is his age which must bear them. Brantôme -merely chronicled the morals of his times. The material was furnished -to him, he merely wrote it down. He is no more responsible for his -book, than an editor of a newspaper for the report of a raid or a bomb -attack. Ranke once said regarding the times of Henri II.: “If one -wishes to know the thoughts and opinions of France at that period, one -must read Rabelais” (History of France, Ch. I, 133). Whoever wishes to -become familiar with the age of Charles IX. and Henri III. must read -Brantôme. - - GEORG HARSDÖRFER. - - (Translated from the German.) - - - - - LIVES OF FAIR AND - GALLANT LADIES - - - - - [Illustration: Decorative scrollwork above chapter start] - - - - - FIFTH DISCOURSE - - Telling how fair and honourable ladies do love brave - and valiant men, and brave men courageous women.[1*] - - - 1. - -It hath ever been the case that fair and honourable ladies have loved -brave and valiant men, albeit by natural bent they be cowardly and -timid creatures. But such a virtue doth valour possess with them, as -that they do grow altogether enamoured thereof. What else is this but -to constrain their exact opposite to love them, and this spite of their -own natural complexion? And for an instance of this truth, Venus, -which in ancient days was the goddess of Beauty, and of all gentle and -courteous bearing, being fain, there in the skies and at the Court of -Jupiter, to choose her some fair and handsome lover and so make cuckold -her worthy husband Vulcan, did set her choice on never a one of the -pretty young gallants, those dapper, curled darlings, whereof were so -many to hand, but did select and fall deep in love with the god Mars, -god of armies and warlike prowess,—and this albeit he was all foul and -a-sweat with the wars he had but just come from, and all besmirched -with dust and as filthy as might be, more smacking of the soldier in -the field than the gallant at Court. Nay! worse still, very oft mayhap -all bloody, as returning from battle, he would so lie with her, without -any sort of cleansing of himself or scenting of his person. - -Again, the fair and high-born Penthesilea, Queen of the Amazons, having -learned of fame concerning the valour and prowess of the doughty -Hector, and his wondrous feats of arms which he did before Troy against -the Greeks, did at the mere report of all this grow so fondly enamoured -of the hero, that being fain to have so valiant a knight for father of -her children, her daughters to wit which should succeed to her kingdom, -she did hie her forth to seek him at Troy. There beholding him, and -contemplating and admiring his puissance, she did all ever she could to -find favour with him, not less by the brave deeds of war she wrought -than by her beauty, the which was exceeding rare. And never did Hector -make sally upon his foes but she would be at his side, and was always -as well to the front as Hector himself in the mêlée, wherever the -fight was hottest. In such wise that ’tis said she did several times -accomplish such deeds of daring and so stir the Trojan’s wonder as -that he would stop short as if astonished in the midst of the fiercest -combats, and so withdraw somewhat on one side, the better to see and -admire this most valiant Queen doing such gallant deeds. - -Thereafter, we leave the world to suppose what was the issue of their -love, and if they did put the same in practise; and truly the result -could not long be doubtful. But any way, their pleasure was to be of -no great duration for the Queen, the better to delight her lover, did -so constantly rush forth to confront all hazards, that she was slain -at last in one of the fiercest and fellest encounters. Others however -say she did never see Hector at all, but that he was dead before -her arrival. So coming on the scene and learning his death, she did -thereupon fall into so great grief and such sadness to have lost the -goodly sight she had so fondly desired and had come from so far a land -to seek, that she did start forth to meet a voluntary death in the -bloodiest battles of the war; and so she died, having no further cause -to live, now she had failed of beholding the gallant being she had -chosen as best of all and had loved the most.[2] - -The like was done by Thalestris, another Queen of the Amazons, who did -traverse a great country and cover I know not how many leagues for to -visit Alexander the Great, and asking it of him as a favour, or as but -a fair exchange of courtesy, did lie with him in order that she might -have issue by him of so noble and generous a blood, having heard him -so high rated of all men. This boon did Alexander very gladly grant -her; and verily he must needs have been sore spoiled and sick of women -if he had done otherwise, for the said Queen was as beautiful as she -was valiant. Quintus Curtius, Orosius and Justin do affirm moreover -that she did thus visit Alexander with three hundred ladies in her -suite, all bearing arms, and all so fair apparelled and of such a -beauteous grace as that naught could surpass the same. So attended, she -did make her reverence before the King, who did welcome her with the -highest marks of honour. And she did tarry thirteen days and thirteen -nights with him, submitting herself in all ways to his good will and -pleasure. At the same time she did frankly tell him how that if she had -a daughter by him, she would guard her as a most priceless treasure; -but an if she had a son, that she would send him back to the King, -by reason of the abhorrence she bear to the male sex, in the matter -of holding rule and exercising any command among them, in accordance -with the laws introduced in their companies after they had slain their -husbands. - -Herein need we have no doubt whatever but that the rest of the ladies -and attendant dames did after a like manner, and had themselves covered -by the different captains and men of war of the said King Alexander. -For they were bound in this matter to follow their mistress’ example. - -So too the fair maiden Camilla, at once beautiful and noble-hearted, -and one which did serve her mistress Diana right faithfully in the -woodlands and forests on her hunting parties, having heard the bruit of -Turnus’ valiance, and how he had to do with another valiant warrior, to -wit Aeneas, which did press him sore, did choose her side. Then did she -seek out her favourite and join him, but with three very honourable and -fair ladies beside for her comrades, the which she had taken for her -close friends and trusty confidantes,—and for tribads too mayhap, and -for mutual naughtiness. And so did she hold these same in honour and -use them on all occasions, as Virgil doth describe in his _Æneid_. And -they were called the one Armia, a virgin and a valiant maid, another -Tullia, and the third Tarpeia, which was skilled to wield the pike and -dart, and that in two divers fashions, be it understood,—all three -being daughters of Italy.[3*] - -Thus then did Camilla arrive with her beauteous little band (as they -say “little and good”) for to seek out Turnus, with whom she did -perform sundry excellent feats of arms; and did sally forth so oft -and join battle with the doughty Trojans that she was presently slain, -to the very sore grief of Turnus, who did regard her most highly, as -well for her beauty as for the good succour she brought. In such wise -did these fair and courageous dames seek out brave and valiant heroes, -succouring the same in their ways and encounters. - -What else was it did fill the breast of poor Dido with the flame of -so ardent a love, what but the valiance she did feel to be in her -Aeneas,—if we are to credit Virgil? For she had begged him to tell her -of his wars, and the ruin and destruction of Troy, and he had gratified -her wish,—albeit to his own great grief, to renew the memory of such -sorrows, and in his discourse had dwelt by the way on his own valiant -achievements. And Dido having well marked all these and pondered them -in her breast, and presently declaring of her love to her sister Anna, -the chiefest and most pregnant of the words she said to her were these -and no other: “Ah! sister mine, what a guest is this which hath come to -my Court! Oh! the noble way he hath with him, and how his very carriage -doth announce him a brave and most valiant warrior, in deed and in -spirit! I do firmly believe him to be the offspring of some race of -gods; for churlish hearts are ever cowardly of their very nature.” Such -were Dido’s words; and I think she did come to love him so, quite as -much because she was herself brave and generous-hearted, and that her -instinct did push her to love her fellow, as to win help and service -of him in case of need. But the wretch did deceive and desert her in -pitiful wise,—an ill deed he should never have done to so honourable a -lady, which had given him her heart and her love, to him, I say, that -was but a stranger and an outlaw. - -Boccaccio in his book of _Famous Folk which have been Unfortunate_,[4] -doth tell a tale of a certain Duchess of Forli, named Romilda, who -having lost husband and lands and goods, all which Caucan, King of the -Avarese, had robbed her of, was constrained to take refuge with her -children in her castle of Forli, and was therein besieged by him. But -one day when he did approach near the walls to make a reconnaissance, -Romilda who was on the top of a tower, saw him and did long and -carefully observe him. Then seeing him so handsome, being in the flower -of his age, mounted on a fine horse and clad in a magnificent suit of -mail, and knowing how he was used to do many doughty deeds of war, -and that he did never spare himself any more than the least of his -soldiers, she did incontinently fall deeply enamoured of the man, and -quitting to mourn for her husband and all care for her castle and the -siege thereof, did send him word by a messenger that, if he would have -her in marriage, she would yield him up the place on the day their -wedding should be celebrated. - -King Caucan took her at her word. Accordingly the day agreed upon being -come, lo! she doth deck herself most stately as a duchess should in -her finest and most magnificent attire, which did make her yet fairer -still to look on, exceeding fair as she was by nature. So having come -to the King’s camp for to consummate the marriage, this last, to the -end he might not be blamed as not having kept his word, did spend -all that night in satisfying the enamoured duchess’s desires. But -the next morning, on rising, he did have a dozen Averese soldiers of -his called, such as he deemed to be the strongest and most stalwart -fellows, and gave Romilda into their hands, to take their pleasure of -her one after other. These did have her for all a night long so oft -as ever they could. But then, when day was come again, Caucan having -summoned her before him, and after sternly upbraiding her for her -wantonness and heaping many insults upon her, did have her impaled -through her belly, of which cruel treatment she did presently die. -Truly a savage and barbarous act, so to mishandle a fair and honourable -lady, instead of displaying gratitude, rewarding her and treating her -with all possible courtesy, for the good opinion she had showed of his -generosity, valour and noble courage, and her love for him therefor! -And of this must fair ladies sometimes have good heed; for of these -valiant men of war there be some which have so grown accustomed to -killing and slashing and savagely plying the steel, that now and again -it doth take their humour to exercise the like barbarity on women. Yet -are not all of this complexion, but rather, when honourable ladies do -them this honour to love them and hold their valour in high esteem, -they do leave behind in camp their fury and fierce passions, and in -court and ladies’ chambers do fit themselves to the practise of all -gentleness and kindness and fair courtesy. - -Bandello in his _Tragic Histories_[5] doth relate one, the finest story -I have ever read, of a certain Duchess of Savoy, who one day coming -forth from her good town of Turin, did hear a Spanish woman, a pilgrim -on her road to Loretto to perform a vow, cry out and admire her beauty -and loudly declare, how that if only so fair and perfect a lady were -wedded to her brother, the Señor de Mendoza, which was himself so -handsome, brave and valiant, folk might well say in all lands that now -the finest and handsomest couple in all the world were mated together. -The Duchess who did very well understand the Spanish tongue, having -graven these words in her breast and pondered them over in her heart, -did anon begin to grave love in the same place likewise. In such wise -that by this report of his merits she did fall so passionately in -love with the Señor de Mendoza as that she did never slacken till she -had planned a pretended pilgrimage to St. James of Compostella, for -to see the man for whom she had so suddenly been smit with love. So -having journeyed to Spain, and taken the road passing by the house of -de Mendoza, she had time and leisure to content and satisfy her eyes -with a good sight of the fair object she had chosen. For the Señor de -Mendoza’s sister, which was in the Duchess’ train, had advised her -brother of so distinguished and fair a visitor’s coming. Wherefore he -did not fail to go forth to meet her in gallant array, and mounted on a -noble Spanish horse, and this with so fine a grace as that the Duchess -could not but be assured of the truth of the fair report which had been -given her, and did admire him greatly, as well for his handsome person -as for his noble carriage, which did plainly manifest the valiance that -was in him. This she did esteem even more highly than all his other -merits, accomplishments and perfections, presaging even at that date -how she would one day mayhap have need of his valour,—as truly in after -times he did excellently serve her under the false accusation which -Count Pancalier brought against her chastity. Natheless, though she did -find him brave and courageous as a man of arms, yet for the nonce was -he a recreant in love; for he did show himself so cold and respectful -toward her as to try never an assault of amorous words, the very thing -she did most desire, and for which she had undertook her journey. -Wherefore, in sore despite at so chilling a respect, or to speak -plainly such recreancy in love, she did part from him on the morrow, -not near so well content as she had come. - -Thus we see how true ’tis that ladies do sometimes love men no less -which are bold in love than they which be brave in arms,—not that they -would have them brazen and over-bold, impudent and self-satisfied, as I -have known some to be. But in this matter must they keep ever the _via -media_. - -I have known not a few which have lost many a good fortune with women -by reason of such over-respectfulness, whereof I could tell some -excellent stories, were I not afeared of wandering too far from the -proper subject of my Discourse. But I hope to give them in a separate -place; so I will only tell the following one here. - -I have heard tell in former days of a lady, and one of the fairest in -all the world, who having in the like fashion heard a certain Prince -given out by repute for brave and valiant, and that he had already -in his young days done and performed great exploits of war, and in -especial won two great and signal victories against his foes,[6] did -conceive a strong desire to see him; and to this end did make a journey -to the province wherein he was then tarrying, under some pretext or -other that I need not name. Well! at last she did set forth; and -presently,—for what is not possible to a brave and loving heart?—she -doth gain sight of him and can contemplate him at her ease, for he -did come out a long distance to meet her, and doth now receive her -with all possible honour and respect, as was meet for so great, fair -and noble-hearted a Princess. Nay! the respect was e’en _too_ great, -some do say; for the same thing happened as with the Señor de Mendoza -and the Duchess of Savoy, and such excessive respectfulness did but -engender the like despite and dissatisfaction. At any rate she did part -from him by no means so well satisfied as she had come. It may well -be he would but have wasted his time without her yielding one whit to -his wishes; but at the least the attempt would not have been ill, but -rather becoming to a gallant man, and folk would have esteemed him the -better therefor. - -Why! what is the use of a bold and generous spirit, if it show not -itself in all things, as well in love as in war? For love and arms be -comrades, and do go side by side with a single heart, as saith the -Latin poet: “Every lover is a man of war, and Cupid hath his camp and -arms no less than Mars.” Ronsard hath writ a fine sonnet hereanent in -the first book of his “Amours.”[7*] - - - 2. - -However to return to the fainness women do display to see and love -great-hearted and valiant men,—I have heard it told of the Queen of -England, Elizabeth, the same which is yet reigning at this hour, how -that one day being at table, entertaining at supper the Grand Prior -of France, a nobleman of the house of Lorraine, and M. d’Anville, -now M. de Montmorency and Constable of France, the table discourse -having fallen among divers other matters on the merits of the late -King Henri II. of France, she did commend that Prince most highly, for -that he was so brave, and to use her own word so _martial_ a monarch, -as he had manifested plainly in all his doings. For which cause she -had resolved, an if he had not died so early, to go visit him in his -Kingdom, and had actually had her galleys prepared and made ready for -to cross over into France, and so the twain clasp hands and pledge -their faith and peaceable intent. “In fact ’twas one of my strongest -wishes to see this hero. I scarce think he would have refused me, for,” -she did declare, “my humour is to love men of courage. And I do sore -begrudge death his having snatched away so gallant a King, at any rate -before I had looked on his face.” - -This same Queen, some while after, having heard great renown of the -Duc de Nemours for the high qualities and valour that were in him, -was most eager to enquire news of him from the late deceased M. de -Rendan[8] at the time when King Francis II did send him to Scotland to -conclude a peace under the walls of Leith,[8] which was then besieged -by the English. And so soon as he had told the Queen at length all the -particulars of that nobleman’s high and noble deeds and merits and -points of gallantry, M. de Rendan, who was no less understanding in -matters of love than of arms, did note in her and in her countenance a -certain sparkle of love or at the least liking, as well as in her words -a very strong desire to see him. Wherefore, fain not to stay her in so -excellent a path, he did what he could to find out from her whether, if -the Duke should come to see her, he would be welcome and well received. -She did assure him this would certainly be so, from which he did -conclude they might very well come to be wed. - -Presently being returned to the Court of France from off his embassy, -he did report all the discourse to the King and M. de Nemours. -Whereupon the former did command and urge M. de Nemours to agree to -the thing. This he did with very great alacrity, if he could come into -so fine a Kingdom[9*] by the means of so fair, so virtuous and noble a -Queen. - -As a result the irons were soon in the fire. With the good means the -King did put in his hands, the Duke did presently make very great and -magnificent preparations and equipments, both of raiment, horses and -arms, and in fact of all costly and beautiful things, without omitting -aught needful (for myself did see all this) to go and appear before -this fair Princess, above all forgetting not to carry thither with him -all the flower of the young nobility of the Court. Indeed Greffier, the -Court fool, remarking thereupon did say ’twas wondrous how all the gay -_pease blossom_ of the land was going overseas, pointing by this his -jape at the wild young bloods of the French Court. - -Meantime M. de Lignerolles, a gentleman of much adroitness and skill, -and at that time an high favourite with M. de Nemours, his master, was -despatched to the said fair Princess, and anon returned bearing a most -gentle answer and one very meet to content him, and cause him to press -on and further hasten his journey. And I remember me the marriage was -held at Court to be as good as made. Yet did we observe how all of a -sudden the voyage in question was broke off short and never made, and -this in spite of a very great expenditure thereon, now all vain and -useless. - -Myself could say as well as any man in France what ’twas did lead to -this rupture; yet will I remark thus much only in passing:—It may well -be other loves did more move his heart, and held him more firm a -captive. For truly he was so accomplished in all ways and so skilful in -arms and all good exercises, as that ladies did vie with each other in -running after him. So I have seen some of the most high-spirited and -virtuous women which were ready enough to break their fast of chastity -for him. - -We have, in the _Cent Nouvelles_ of Queen Marguerite of Navarre, a -very excellent tale of that lady of Milan,[10*] which having given -assignation to the late M. de Bonnivet, since that day Admiral of -France, one night, did charge her chamber-women to stand with drawn -swords in hand and to make a disturbance on the steps, just as he -should be ready to go to bed. This they did to great effect, following -therein their mistress’ orders, which for her part did feign to be -terrified and sore afraid, crying out ’twas her husband’s brothers -which had noted something amiss, and that she was undone, and that he -should hide under the bed or behind the arras. But M. de Bonnivet, -without the least panic, taking his cloak round the one arm and his -sword in the other hand, said only: “Well, well! where be they, these -doughty brothers, which would fright me or do me hurt? Soon as they -shall see me, they will not so much as dare look at the point of my -sword.” So saying, he did throw open the door and sally forth, but as -he was for charging down the steps, lo! he did find only the women and -their silly noise, which were sore scared at sight of him and began to -scream and confess the whole truth. M. de Bonnivet, seeing what was -toward, did straight leave the jades, commending them to the devil, and -hying him back to the bedchamber, shutteth to the door behind him. Thus -did he betake him to his lady once more, which did then fall a-laughing -and a-kissing of him, confessing how ’twas naught but a trick of her -contriving, and declaring, an if he had played the poltroon and had not -shown his valiance, whereof he had the repute, that he should never -have lain with her. But seeing he had proved him so bold and confident -of heart, she did therefore kiss him and frankly welcome him to her -bed. And all night long ’twere better not to enquire too close what -they did; for indeed she was one of the fairest women in all Milan, and -one with whom he had had much pains to win her over. - -I once knew a gallant gentleman, who one day being at Rome to bed with -a pretty Roman lady, in her husband’s absence, was alarmed in like -wise; for she did cause one of her waiting women to come in hot haste -to warn him the husband was hunting round. The lady, pretending sore -amazement, did beseech the gentleman to hide in a closet, else she was -undone. “No, no!” my friend made answer, “I would not do that for all -the world; but an if he come, why! I will kill him.” With this he did -spring to grasp his sword; but the lady only fell a-laughing, and did -confess how she had arranged it all of set purpose to prove him, to see -what he would do, if her husband did threat him with hurt, and whether -he would make a good defence of his mistress. - -I likewise knew a very fair lady, who did quit outright a lover -she had, because she deemed him a coward; and did change him for -another, which did in no way resemble him, but was feared and dreaded -exceedingly for his powers of fence, being one of the best swordsmen to -be found in those days. - -I have heard a tale told at Court by the old gossips, of a lady which -was at Court, mistress of the late M. de Lorge,[11] that good soldier -and in his younger days one of the bravest and most renowned captains -of foot men of his time. She having heard so much praise given to his -valour, was fain, one day that King Francis the First was showing a -fight of lions at his Court, to prove him whether he was so brave as -folk made out. Wherefore she did drop one of her gloves in the lions’ -den, whenas they were at their fiercest; and with that did pray M. de -Lorge to go get it for her, an if his love of her were as great as he -was forever saying. He without any show of surprise, doth take his -cloak on fist and his sword in the other hand, and so boldly forth -among the lions for to recover the glove. In this emprise was fortune -so favourable to him, that seeing he did all through show a good front -and kept the point of his sword boldly presented to the lions, these -did not dare attack him. So after picking up the glove, he did return -toward his mistress and gave it back to her; for the which she and all -the company there present did esteem him very highly. But ’tis said -that out of sheer despite at such treatment, M. de Lorge did quit her -for ever, forasmuch as she had thought good to make her pastime of him -and his valiance in this fashion. Nay! more, they say he did throw the -glove in her face, out of mere despite; for he had rather an hundred -times she had bid him go break up a whole battalion of foot soldiery, -a matter he was duly trained to undertake, than thus to fight beasts, -a contest where glory is scarce to be gained. At any rate suchlike -trials of men’s courage be neither good nor honourable, and they that -do provoke the same are much to be blamed. - -I like as little another trick which a certain lady did play her lover. -For when he was offering her his service, assuring her there was never -a thing, be it as perilous as it might, he would not do for her, she -taking him at his word, did reply, “Well! an if you love me so much, -and be as courageous as you say, stab yourself with your dagger in the -arm for the love of me.” The other, who was dying for love of her, did -straight draw his weapon, ready to give himself the blow. However I did -hold his arm and took the dagger from him, remonstrating and saying he -would be a great fool to go about it in any such fashion to prove his -love and courage. I will not name the lady; but the gentleman concerned -was the late deceased M. de Clermont-Tallard the elder,[12*] which -fell at the battle of Montcontour, one of the bravest and most valiant -gentlemen of France, as he did show by his death, when in command of a -company of men-at-arms,—a man I did love and honour greatly. - -I have heard say a like thing did once happen to the late M. de Genlis, -the same which fell in Germany, leading the Huguenot troops in the -third of our wars of Religion. For crossing the Seine one day in front -of the Louvre with his mistress, she did let fall her handkerchief, -which was a rich and beautiful one, into the water on purpose, and told -him to leap into the river to recover the same. He, knowing not how to -swim but like a stone, was fain to be excused; but she upbraiding him -and saying he was a recreant lover, and no brave man, without a word -more he did throw himself headlong into the stream, and thinking to get -the handkerchief, would assuredly have been drowned, had he not been -promptly rescued by a boat. - -Myself believe that suchlike women, by such trials, do desire in this -wise gracefully to be rid of their lovers, which mayhap do weary them. -’Twere much better did they give them good favours once for all -and pray them, for the love they bear them, to carry these forth to -honourable and perilous places in the wars, and so prove their valour. -Thus would they push them on to greater prowess, rather than make them -perform the follies I have just spoke of, and of which I could recount -an infinity of instances. - -This doth remind me, how that, whenas we were advancing to lay siege to -Rouen in the first war of Religion, Mademoiselle de Piennes,[13*] one -of the honourable damsels of the Court, being in doubt as to whether -the late M. de Gergeay was valiant enough to have killed, himself -alone and man to man, the late deceased Baron d’Ingrande, which was -one of the most valiant gentlemen of the Court, did for to prove his -valiance, give him a favour,—a scarf which he did affix to his head -harness. Then, on occasion of the making a reconnaissance of the Fort -of St. Catherine, he did charge so boldly and valiantly on a troop -of horse which had sallied forth of the city, that bravely fighting -he did receive a pistol shot in the head, whereof he did fall stark -dead on the spot. In this wise was the said damsel fully satisfied of -his valour, and had he not been thus killed, seeing he had fought so -well, she would have wedded him; but doubting somewhat his courage, -and deeming he had slain the aforesaid Baron unfairly, for so she did -suspect, she was fain, as she said, to make this visible trial of him. -And verily, although there be many men naturally courageous, yet do the -ladies push the same on to greater prowess; while if they be cold and -cowardly, they do move them to some gallantry and warm them up to some -show of fight. - -We have an excellent example hereof in the beautiful Agnes Sorel,[14] -who seeing the King of France Charles VII.[14] deep in love with her, -and recking of naught but to pleasure her, and slack and cowardly -take no heed for his kingdom, did say to him one day, how that when -she was a child, an astrologer had predicted she would be loved and -served of one of the most valiant and courageous kings of Christendom. -Accordingly, whenas the King did her the honour to love her, she did -think he was the valorous monarch which had been predicted for her; but -seeing him so slack, with so little care of his proper business, she -did plainly perceive she was deceived in this, and that the courageous -King intended was not he at all, but the King of England,[14] which did -perform such fine feats of war, and did take so many of his fairest -cities from under his very nose. “Wherefore,” she said to her lover, -“I am away to find him, for of a surety ’tis he the astrologer did -intend.” These words did so sorely prick the King’s heart, as that he -fell a-weeping; and thenceforward, plucking up spirit and quitting his -hunting and his gardens, he did take the bit in his teeth,—and this to -such good effect that by dint of good hap and his own valiance he did -drive the English forth of his Kingdom altogether. - -Bertrand du Guesclin[14] having wedded his wife Madame Tiphaine, did -set himself all to pleasure her and so did neglect the management of -the War, he who had been so forward therein afore, and had won him -such praise and glory. But she did upbraid him with this remonstrance, -how that before their marriage folk did speak of naught but him and -his gallant deeds, but henceforth she might well be reproached for -the discontinuance of her husband’s fair deeds and good repute. This -she said was a very great disgrace to her and him, that he had now -grown such a stay-at-home; and did never cease her chiding, till she -had roused in him his erstwhile spirit, and sent him back to the wars, -where he did even doughtier deeds than aforetime. - -Thus do we see how this honourable lady did not love so much her -night’s pleasures as she did value the honour of her husband. And of -a surety our wives themselves, though they do find us near by their -side, yet an if we be not brave and valiant, will never really love -us nor keep us by them of good and willing heart; whereas when we be -returned from the wars and have done some fine and noble exploit, then -they do verily and indeed love us and embrace of right good will, and -themselves find the enjoyment most precious. - -The fourth daughter of the Comte de Provence,[15*] father-in-law of -St. Louis, and herself wife to Charles, Count of Anjou, brother of the -said King, being sore vexed, high-spirited and ambitious Princess as -she was, at being but plain Countess of Anjou and Provence, and because -she alone of her three sisters, of whom two were Queens and the third -Empress, did bear no better title than that my Lady and Countess, did -never cease till she had prayed, beseeched and importuned her husband -to conquer and get some Kingdom for himself. And they did contrive -so well as that they were chose of Pope Urban to be King and Queen -of the Two Sicilies; and they did away, the twain of them, to Rome -with thirty galleys to be crowned by his Holiness, with all state and -splendour, King and Queen of Jerusalem and Naples, which dominion he -did win afterward, no less by his victorious arms than by the aid his -wife afforded him, selling all her rings and jewels for to provide the -expenses of the war. So thereafter did they twain reign long and not -unpeaceably in the fine kingdoms they had gotten. - -Long years after, one of their grand-daughters, issue of them and -theirs, Ysabeau de Lorraine to wit,[16*] without help of her husband -René, did carry out a like emprise. For while her husband was prisoner -in the hands of Charles, Duke of Burgundy, she being a Princess of a -wise prudence and high heart and courage, the Kingdom of Sicily and -Naples having meantime fallen to them in due succession, did assemble -an army of thirty thousand men. This she did lead forth in person, and -so conquer all the Kingdom and take possession of Naples. - - - 3. - -I could name an host of ladies which have in suchlike ways done great -and good service to their husbands, and how being high of heart and -ambition they have pushed on and encouraged their mates to court -fortune, and to win goods and grandeur and much wealth. And truly ’tis -the most noble and most honourable fashion of getting of such things, -thus at the sword’s point. - -I have known many men in this our land of France and at our Courts, -which really more by the urging of their wives than by any will of -their own, have undertaken and accomplished gallant exploits. - -Many women on the other hand have I known, which thinking only of their -own good pleasures, have stood in their husbands’ way and kept the same -ever by their side, hindering them of doing noble deeds, unwilling to -have them find amusement in aught else but in contenting them at the -game of Venus, so keen were they after this sport. I could tell many -a tale hereof, but I should be going too far astray from my subject, -which is a worthier one for sure, seeing it doth handle virtue, than -the other, which hath to do with vice. ’Tis more pleasant by far to -hear tell of such ladies as have pushed on their men to noble deeds. -Nor do I speak solely of married women, but of many others beside, -which by dint of one little favour bestowed, have made their lovers to -do many a fine thing they had never done else. For what a satisfaction -is theirs! what incitement and warming of heart is greater than when -at the wars a man doth think how he is well loved of his mistress, and -if only he do some fine thing for the love of her, what kind looks and -pretty ways, what fair glances, what kissings, delights and joys, he -may hope after to receive of her? - -Scipio amongst other rebukes he did administer to Massinissa, when, -all but bloody yet from battle, he did wed Sophonisba, said to him: -how that ’twas ill-becoming to think of ladies and the love of ladies, -when at the wars. He must pardon me here, an if he will; but for my own -part, I ween there is no such great contentment, nor one that giveth -more courage and emulation to do nobly than they. I have travelled in -that country myself in old days. And not only I, but all such, I do -firmly believe, as take the field and fight, do find the same; and -to them I make appeal. I am sure they be all of my opinion, be they -who they may, and that whenas they are embarked on some good warlike -emprise, and presently find themselves in the heat of battle and press -of the foe, their heart doth swell within them as they think on their -ladies, the favours they do carry of them, and the caresses and gentle -welcome they will receive of the same after the war is done, if they -but escape,—and if they come to die, the sore grief they will feel for -love of them and thought of their end. In a word, for the love of their -ladies and fond thoughts of them, all emprises be facile and easy, -the sternest fights be but merry tourneys to them, and death itself a -triumph. - -I do remember me how at the battle of Dreux the late M. des -Bordes,[17*] a brave and gentle knight if ever there was one in his -day, being Lieutenant under M. de Nevers, known at the first as the -Comte d’Eu, a most excellent Prince and soldier, when he had to charge -to break up a battalion of foot which was marching straight on the -advanced guard where was the late M. de Guise the Great, and the signal -to charge was given, the said Des Bordes, mounted on a grey barb, doth -start forward instantly, adorned and garnished with a very fine favour -his mistress had given him (I will not name her, but she was one of the -fair and honourable damsels and great ladies of the Court), and as he -gave rein, he did cry: “Ha! I am away to fight valiantly for the love -of my mistress, or to die for her!” And this boast he failed not to -fulfil; for after piercing the six first ranks, he fell at the seventh, -borne down to earth. Now tell me if this lady had not well used her -favour, and if she had aught to reproach her with for having bestowed -it on him! - -M. de Bussi again was a young soldier which did as great honour to -his mistresses’ favours as any man of his time, yea! and the favours -of some I know of, which did merit more stricken fields and deeds of -daring and good sword thrusts than did ever the fair Angelica of the -Paladins and Knights of yore, whether Christian or Saracen. Yet have -I heard him often declare that in all the single combats and wars and -general rencounters (for he hath fought in many such) where he hath -ever been engaged, ’twas not so much for the service of his Prince nor -yet for love of success as for the sole honour and glory of contenting -his lady love. He was surely right in this, for verily all the success -in the world and all its ambitions be little worth in comparison of the -love and kindness of a fair and honourable lady and mistress. - -And why else have so many brave Knights errant of the Round Table and -so many valorous Paladins of France in olden time undertaken so many -wars and far journeyings, and gone forth on such gallant emprises, if -not for the love of the fair ladies they did serve or were fain to -serve? I do appeal to our Paladins of France, our Rolands, Renauds, -Ogiers, our Olivers, Yvons and Richards, and an host of others. And -truly ’twas a good time and a lucky; for if they did accomplish some -gallant deed for love of their ladies, these same fair ladies, in no -wise ingrate, knew well how to reward them, whenas they hied them back -to meet them, or mayhap would give them tryst there, in the forests and -woodlands, or near some fair fountain or amid the green meadows. And is -not this the guerdon of his doughtiness a soldier most doth crave of -his lady love? - -Well! it yet remains to ask, why women do so love these men of -valiance? First, as I did say at the beginning, valour hath in it a -certain force and overmastering power to make itself loved of its -opposite. Then beside, there is a kind of natural inclination doth -exist, constraining women to love great-heartedness, which to be sure -is an hundred times more lovable than cowardice,—even as virtue is -alway more to be desired than vice. - -Some ladies there be which do love men thus gifted with valour, because -they imagine that just as they be brave and expert at arms and in the -trade of War, they must be the same at that of Love. - -And this rule doth hold really good with some. ’Twas fulfilled for -instance by Cæsar, that champion of the world, and many another gallant -soldier I have known, though I name no names. And such lovers do -possess a very different sort of vigour and charm from rustics and folk -of any other profession but that of arms, so much so that one push of -these same gallants is worth four of ordinary folk. When I say this, -I do mean in the eyes of women moderately lustful, not of such as be -inordinately so, for the mere number is what pleaseth this latter sort. -But if this rule doth hold good sometimes in some of these warlike -fellows, and according to the humour of some women, it doth fail in -others; for some of these valiant soldiers there be so broken down by -the burden of their harness and the heavy tasks of war, that they have -no strength left when they have to come to this gentle game of love, in -such wise that they cannot content their ladies,—of whom some (and many -are of such complexion), had liever have one good workman at Venus’ -trade, fresh and ground to a good point, than four of these sons of -Mars, thus broken-winged. - -I have known many of the sex of this sort and this humour; for after -all, they say, the great thing is to pass one’s time merrily, and get -the quintessence of enjoyment out of it, without any special choice of -persons. A good man of war is good, and a fine sight on the field of -battle; but an if he can do naught a-bed, they declare, a good stout -lackey, in good case and practice, is every whit as worth having as a -handsome and valiant gentleman,—tired out. - -I do refer me to such dames as have made trial thereof, and do so every -day; for the gallant soldier’s loins, be he as brave and valiant as he -may, being broken and chafed of the harness they have so long carried -on them, cannot afford the needful supply, as other men do, which have -never borne hardship or fatigue. - -Other ladies there be which do love brave men, whether it be for -husbands or for lovers, to the end these may show good fight and so -better defend their honour and chastity, if any detractors should be -fain to befoul these with ill words. Several such I have seen at Court, -where I knew in former days a very great and a very fair lady[18] whose -name I had rather not give, who being much subject to evil tongues, did -quit a lover, and a very favourite one, she had, seeing him backward to -come to blows and pick a quarrel and fight it out, to take another[18] -instead which was a mettlesome wight, a brave and valiant soul, which -would gallantly bear his lady’s honour on the point of his sword, -without ever a man daring to touch the same in any wise. - -Many ladies have I known in my time of this humour, wishful always to -have a brave gallant for their escort and defence. This no doubt is -a good and very useful thing oftentimes for them; but then they must -take good heed not to stumble or let their heart change toward them, -once they have submitted to their domination. For if these fellows do -note the least in the world of their pranks and fickle changes, they do -lead them a fine life and rebuke them in terrible wise, both them and -their new gallants, if ever they change. Of this I have seen not a few -examples in the course of my life. - -Thus do we see how suchlike women, those that will fain have at command -suchlike brave and mettlesome lovers, must needs themselves be brave -and very faithful in their dealings with the same, or at any rate so -secret in their intrigues as that they may never be discovered. Unless -indeed they do compass the thing by some arrangement, as do the Italian -and Roman courtesans, who are fain ever to have a _bravo_ (this is the -name they give him) to defend and keep them in countenance; but ’tis -always part of the bargain that they shall have other favoured swains -as well, and the bravo shall never say one word. - -This is mighty well for the courtesans of Rome and their bravos, but -not for the gallant gentlemen of France and other lands. But an if an -honourable dame is ready to keep herself in all firmness and constancy, -her lover is bound to spare his life in no way for to maintain and -defend her honour, if she do run the very smallest risk of hurt, -whether to her life or her reputation, or of some ill word of scandal. -So have I seen at our own Court several which have made evil tattlers -to hold their tongues at a moment’s notice, when these had started some -detraction of their ladies or mistresses. For by devoir of knighthood -and its laws we be bound to serve as their champions in any trouble, as -did the brave Renaud for the fair Ginevra in Scotland,[19] the Señor -de Mendoza for the beautiful Duchess I have spoke of above, and the -Seigneur de Carouge for his own wedded wife in the days of King Charles -VI., as we do read in our Chronicles. I could quote an host of other -instances, as well of old as of modern times, to say naught of those I -have witnessed at our own Court; but I should never have done. - -Other ladies I have known which have quitted cowardly fellows, albeit -these were very rich, to love and wed gentlemen that did possess naught -at all but sword and cloak, so to say. But then they were valorous and -great-hearted, and had hopes, by dint of their valiance and bravery, to -attain to rank and high estate. Though truly ’tis not the bravest that -do most oft win these prizes; but they do rather suffer sore wrong, -while many a time we behold the cowardly and fainthearted succeed -instead. Yet be this as it may, such fortune doth never become these so -well as it doth the men of valour. - -But there, I should never get me done, were I to recount at length the -divers causes and reasons why women do so love men of high heart and -courage. I am quite sure, were I set on amplifying this Discourse with -all the host of reasons and examples I might, I could make a whole book -of it alone. However, as I wish not to tarry over one subject only, so -much as to deal with various and divers matters, I will be satisfied -to have said what I have said,—albeit sundry will likely blame me, how -that such and such a point was surely worthy of being enriched by more -instances and a string of prolix reasons, which themselves could very -well supply, exclaiming, “Why! he hath clean forgot this; he hath clean -forgot that.” I know my subject well enough for all that; and mayhap -I know more instances than ever they could adduce, and more startling -and private. But I prefer not to divulge them all, and not to give the -names. - -This is why I do hold my tongue. Yet, before making an end, I will add -this further word by the way. Just as ladies do love men which be -valiant and bold under arms, so likewise do they love such as be of -like sort in love; and the man which is cowardly and over and above -respectful toward them, will never win their good favour. Not that they -would have them so overweening, bold and presumptuous, as that they -should by main force lay them on the floor; but rather they desire -in them a certain hardy modesty, or perhaps better a certain modest -hardihood. For while themselves are not exactly wantons, and will -neither solicit a man nor yet actually offer their favours, yet do they -know well how to rouse the appetites and passions, and prettily allure -to the skirmish in such wise that he which doth not take occasion by -the forelock and join encounter, and that without the least awe of rank -and greatness, without a scruple of conscience or a fear or any sort -of hesitation, he verily is a fool and a spiritless poltroon, and one -which doth merit to be forever abandoned of kind fortune.[20*] - -I have heard of two honourable gentlemen and comrades, for the which -two very honourable ladies, and of by no means humble quality, made -tryst one day at Paris to go walking in a garden. Being come thither, -each lady did separate apart one from the other, each alone with her -own cavalier, each in a several alley of the garden, that was so close -covered in with a fair trellis of boughs as that daylight could really -scarce penetrate there at all, and the coolness of the place was very -grateful. Now one of the twain was a bold man, and well knowing how -the party had been made for something else than merely to walk and -take the air, and judging by his lady’s face, which he saw to be all -a-fire, that she had longings to taste other fare than the muscatels -that hung on the trellis, as also by her hot, wanton and wild speech, -he did promptly seize on so fair an opportunity. So catching hold of -her without the least ceremony, he did lay her on a little couch that -was there made of turf and clods of earth, and did very pleasantly work -his will of her, without her ever uttering a word but only: “Heavens! -Sir, what are you at? Surely you be the maddest and strangest fellow -ever was! If anyone comes, whatever will they say? Great heavens! -get out!” But the gentleman, without disturbing himself, did so well -continue what he had begun that he did finish, and she to boot, with -such content as that after taking three or four turns up and down -the alley, they did presently start afresh. Anon, coming forth into -another, open, alley, they did see in another part of the garden the -other pair, who were walking about together just as they had left them -at first. Whereupon the lady, well content, did say to the gentleman in -the like condition, “I verily believe so and so hath played the silly -prude, and hath given his lady no other entertainment but only words, -fine speeches and promenading.” - -Afterward when all four were come together, the two ladies did fall to -asking one another how it had fared with each. Then the one which was -well content did reply she was exceeding well, indeed she was; indeed -for the nonce she could scarce be better. The other, which was ill -content, did declare for her part she had had to do with the biggest -fool and most coward lover she had ever seen; and all the time the two -gentlemen could see them laughing together as they walked and crying -out: “Oh! the silly fool! the shamefaced poltroon and coward!” At this -the successful gallant said to his companion: “Hark to our ladies, -which do cry out at you, and mock you sore. You will find you have -overplayed the prude and coxcomb this bout.” So much he did allow; but -there was no more time to remedy his error, for opportunity gave him no -other handle to seize her by. Natheless, now recognizing his mistake, -after some while he did repair the same by certain other means which I -could tell, an if I would. - -Again I knew once two great Lords, brothers, both of them highly bred -and highly accomplished gentlemen[21] which did love two ladies, but -the one of these was of much higher quality and more account than the -other in all respects. Now being entered both into the chamber of -this great lady, who for the time being was keeping her bed, each did -withdraw apart for to entertain his mistress. The one did converse with -the high-born dame with every possible respect and humble salutation -and kissing of hands, with words of honour and stately compliment, -without making ever an attempt to come near and try to force the place. -The other brother, without any ceremony of words or fine phrases, did -take his fair one to a recessed window, and incontinently making free -with her (for he was very strong), he did soon show her ’twas not his -way to love _à l’espagnole_, with eyes and tricks of face and words, -but in the genuine fashion and proper mode every true lover should -desire. Presently having finished his task, he doth quit the chamber; -but as he goes, saith to his brother, loud enough for his lady to hear -the words: “Do you as I have done, brother mine; else you do naught -at all. Be you as brave and hardy as you will elsewhere, yet if you -show not your hardihood here and now, you are disgraced; for here is -no place of ceremony and respect, but one where you do see your lady -before you, which doth but wait your attack.” So with this he did leave -his brother, which yet for that while did refrain him and put it off -to another time. But for this the lady did by no means esteem him more -highly, whether it was she did put it down to an over chilliness in -love, or a lack of courage, or a defect of bodily vigour. And still he -had shown prowess enough elsewhere, both in war and love. - -The late deceased Queen Mother did one day cause to be played, for -a Shrove Tuesday interlude, at Paris at the Hôtel de Reims, a very -excellent Comedy which Cornelio Fiasco, Captain of the Royal Galleys, -had devised. All the Court was present, both men and ladies, and many -folk beside of the city. Amongst other matters, was shown a young man -which had laid hid a whole night long in a very fair lady’s bedchamber, -yet had never laid finger on her. Telling this hap to his friend, the -latter asketh him: _Ch’avete fatto?_ (What did you do?), to which the -other maketh answer: _Niente_ (Nothing). On hearing this, his friend -doth exclaim: _Ah! poltronazzo, senza cuore! non havete fatto niente! -che maldita sia la tua poltronneria!_—“Oh! poltroon and spiritless! you -did nothing! a curse on your poltroonery then!” - -The same evening after the playing of this Comedy, as we were assembled -in the Queen’s chamber, and were discoursing of the said play, I did -ask a very fair and honourable lady, whose name I will not give, what -were the finest points she had noted and observed in the Comedy, and -which had most pleased her. She told me quite simply and frankly: The -best point I noted was when his friend did make answer to the young -man called Lucio, who had told him _che non haveva fatto niente_ (that -he had done nothing) in this wise, _Ah poltronazzo! non havete fatto -niente! che maldita sia la tua poltronneria!_—“Oh! you poltroon! you -did nothing! a curse be on your poltroonery!” - -So you see how this fair lady which did talk with me was in agreement -with the friend in reprobating his poltroonery, and that she did in -no wise approve of him for having been so slack and unenterprising. -Thereafter she and I did more openly discourse together of the mistakes -men make by not seizing opportunity and taking advantage of the wind -when it bloweth fair, as doth the good mariner. - -This bringeth me to yet another tale, which I am fain, diverting and -droll as it is, to mingle among the more serious ones. Well, then! I -have heard it told by an honourable gentleman and a good friend of -mine own, how a lady of his native place, having often shown great -familiarities and special favour to one of her chamber lackeys, which -did only need time and opportunity to come to a point, the said -lackey, neither a prude nor a fool, finding his mistress one morning -half asleep and lying on her bed, turned over away from the wall, -tempted by such a display of beauty and a posture making it so easy -and convenient, she being at the very edge of the bed, he did come up -softly, and alongside the lady. She turning her head saw ’twas her -lackey, which she was fain of; and just as she was, her place occupied -and all, without withdrawing or moving one whit, and neither resisting -nor trying in the very least to shake off the hold he had of her, did -only say to him, turning round her head only and holding still for -fear of losing him, “Ho! ho! Mister prude, and what hath made you so -bold as to do this?” The lackey did answer with all proper respect, -“Madam, shall I leave?”—“That’s not what I said, Mister prude,” the -lady replied, “I ask you, what made you so bold as to put yourself -there?” But the other did ever come back to the same question, “Madam, -shall I stop? if you wish, I will go out,”—and she to repeating again -and again, “That is not what I say, not what I say, Mister prude!” In -fact, the pair of them did make these same replies and repetitions -three or four times over,—which did please the lady far better than if -she had ordered her gallant to stop, when he did ask her. Thus it did -serve her well to stick to her first question without ever a variation, -and the lover in his reply and the repetition thereof. And in this wise -did they continue to lie together for long after, the same rubric being -always repeated as an accompaniment. For ’tis, as men say, the first -batch only, and the first measure of wine, that costs dear. - -A good lackey and an enterprising! To such bold fellows we must needs -say in the words of the Italian proverb, _A bravo cazzo mai non manca -favor_. - -Well, from all this you learn how that there be many men which are -brave, bold and valiant, as well in arms as in love; others which be -so in arms, but not in love; others again, which be so in love and not -in arms. Of this last sort was that rascally Paris, who indeed had -hardihood and valiance enough to carry off Helen from her poor cuckold -of a husband Menelaus, but not to do battle with him before Troy town. - -Moreover this is why the ladies love not old men, nor such as be too -far advanced in years, seeing such be very timid in love and shamefaced -at asking favours. This is not because they have not concupiscence and -desires as great as young men, or even greater, but because they have -not the powers to match. And this is what a Spanish lady meant, which -said once: how that old men did much resemble persons who, whenas they -do behold kings in their magnificence, domination and authority, do -covet exceedingly to be like them, yet would they never dare to make -any attempt against them to dispossess them of their kingdoms and seize -their place. She was used further to say, _Y a penas es nacido el -deseo, cuando se muere luego_,—“Scarce is the desire born, but it dies -straightway.” Thus old men, when they do see fair objects of attack, -dare not take action, _porque los viejos naturalmente son temerosos; y -amor y temor no se caben en un saco_,—“for that old men are naturally -timid; and love and fear do never go well in one pack.” And indeed they -are quite right; for they have arms neither for offence nor defence, -like young folks, which have youth and beauty on their side. So verily, -as saith the poet: naught is unbecoming to youth, do what it will; and -as another hath it: two sorry sights,—an old man-at-arms and an old -lover. - - - 4. - -Well! enough hath been said on this subject; so I do here make an end -and speak no more thereof. Only will I add somewhat on another point, -one that is appertinent and belonging as it were to this, to wit: -how just as fair ladies do love brave men, and such as be valorous -and great-hearted, in like wise do men love women brave of heart and -noble-spirited. And as noble-spirited and courageous men be ever more -lovable and admirable than others, so is the like true of illustrious, -noble-hearted and courageous dames,—not that I would have these perform -the deeds of men, nor yet arm and accoutre them like a man,—as I have -seen and known, as well as heard tell of, some which would mount -a-horse-back like a man, carry their pistol at saddle-bow, shoot off -the same, and generally fight like a man. - -I could name one famous instance at any rate of a lady which did all -this during the recent Wars of the League.[22*] But truly suchlike -disguisement is an outrage to the sex. Besides its being neither -becoming nor suitable, ’tis not lawful, and doth bring more harm and -ill repute than many do suppose. Thus it did work great hurt to the -gentle Maid of Orleans, who at her trial was sore calumniated on this -very account, and this was in part cause of her sore and piteous -downfall and death. Wherefore such masqueradings do like me not, nor -stir me to any great admiration. Yet do I approve and much esteem a -fair dame which doth make manifest her courageous and valiant spirit, -being in adversity and downright need, by brave, womanly acts that -do show a man’s heart and courage. Without borrowing examples from -the noble-hearted dames of Rome and of Sparta of yore, the which have -excelled herein all other women in the world, there be others plain -enough to be seen before our very eyes; and I do choose rather to -adduce such modern instances belonging to our own day. - -The first example I shall give, and in my eyes the finest I know of -is that of those fair, honourable and doughty dames of Sienna, at the -time of the revolt of their city against the intolerable yoke of the -Imperialists (Ghibellines). For after the dispositions had been fixed -for the defence, the women of the city, being set aside therein as not -apt for war like the men, were fain to make a display of their mettle, -and show how that they could do something else than only ply their -female tasks of day and night. So, to bear their part of the work of -defence, they did divide them into three bands or companies; and one -St. Anthony’s day, in the month of January, they did appear in public -led by three of the fairest ladies, and the greatest and best born, of -all the city, in the Great Square of that town (and it is a very noble -one), with their drums and ensigns. - -The first was the Signora Forteguerra, clad in violet, her ensign -of the same colour and all her company in like array, her banner -bearing this device: _Pur che sia il vero_ (Let the truth prevail). -Now all these ladies were dressed in the guise of nymphs, with short -skirts which did best discover and display the fine leg beneath. The -second was the Signora Piccolomini, clad in scarlet, and her company -and ensign the same, with a white cross and this device: _Pur che no -l’habbia tutto_ (Let him not have it all). The third was the Signora -Livia Fausta, clad all in white, and her company in white and a white -ensign, whereon was a palm, and for device: _Pur che l’habbia_ (Let him -have it, then!). - -Round about and in the train of these three, which did seem very -goddesses, were a good three thousand other women, both gentlewomen, -citizens’ wives and others, all fair to look upon, and all duly clad in -their proper dress and livery, whether of satin, taffety, damask, or -other silken stuff, and each and all firm resolved to live or die for -freedom. Moreover each did carry a fascine on her shoulder for a fort -which was a-building, while all cried out together, _France, France!_ -With this spectacle, so rare and delightsome an one, the Cardinal -of Ferrara and M. de Termes, the French King’s Lieutenants, were so -ravished, as that they did find no other pleasure but only in watching, -admiring and commending these same fair and honourable ladies. And -of a truth I have heard many say, both men and women, which were -there present, that never was seen so fine a sight. And God knoweth, -beautiful women be not lacking in this city of Sienna, and that in -abundance, and without picking and choosing. - -The men of the city, which of their own wishes were greatly set on -winning their freedom, were yet more encouraged to the same by this -noble display, unwilling to fall below the women in zeal. In such -wise that all did vie with one another, Lords, gentlemen, citizens, -trades-folk, artizans, rich and poor alike, and all did flock to the -fort to imitate the example of these fair, virtuous and honourable -dames. So all in much emulation,—and not laymen alone, but churchmen -to boot,—did join in pushing on the good work. Then, on returning -back from the fort, the men on one side, and the women likewise -ranged in battle array in the great square before the Palace of the -Signoria,[23*] they did advance one after other, and company after -company, to salute the image of the Blessed Virgin, patroness of the -city, singing the while sundry hymns and canticles in her honour, to -airs so soft and with so gracious an harmony that, part of pleasure, -part of pity, tears ’gan fall from the eyes of all the people present. -These after receiving the benediction of the most reverend Cardinal of -Ferrara, did withdraw, each to their own abode,—all the whole folk, men -and women alike, with fixed resolve to do their duty yet better for -the future. - -This sacred ceremony of these ladies doth remind me (but without making -comparison ’twixt the two) of a heathen one, yet goodly withal, which -was performed at Rome at the period of the Punic Wars, as we do read in -the Historian Livy.[24*] ’Twas a solemn progress and procession made by -three times nine, which is twenty-seven, young and pretty Roman maids, -all of them virgins, clad in longish frocks, of which history doth not -however tell us the colours. These dainty maids, their solemn march and -procession completed, did then make halt at a certain spot, where they -proceeded to dance a measure before the assembled people, passing from -hand to hand a cord or ribband, ranged all in order one after other, -and stepping a round, accommodating the motion and twinkling of their -feet to the cadence of the tune and the song they sang the while. It -was a right pretty sight to see, no less for the beauty of the maids -than for their sweet grace, their dainty way of dancing and the adroit -tripping of their feet, the which is one of the chiefest charms of a -maid, when she is skilled to move and guide the same daintily and well. - -I have oft pictured to myself the measure they did so dance; and it -hath brought to my mind one I have seen performed in my young days -by the girls of mine own countryside, called the “garter.” In this, -the village girls, giving and taking the garter from hand to hand, -would pass and re-pass these above their heads, then entangle and -interlace the same between their legs, leaping nimbly over them, then -unwinding them and slipping free with little, dainty bounds,—all this -while keeping rank one after other, without once losing cadence with -the song or instrument of music which led the measure, in such wise -that the thing was a mighty pretty thing to see. For the little leaps -and bounds they gave, the interlacing and slipping free again, the -wielding of the garter and the graceful carriage of the girls, did all -provoke so dainty a smack of naughtiness, as that I do marvel much -the said dance hath never been practised at Court in these days of -ours. Pleasant ’tis to see the dainty drawers, and the fine leg freely -exhibited in this dance, and which lass hath the best fitting shoe and -the most alluring mien. But truly it can be better appreciated by the -eye than described in words. - -But to return to our ladies of Sienna. Ah! fair and valiant dames, you -should surely never die,—you nor your glory, which will be for ever -immortal. So too another fair and gentle maid of your city, who during -its siege, seeing one night her brother kept a prisoner by sickness -in his bed and in very ill case to go on guard, doth leave him there -a-bed and slipping quietly away from his side, doth take his arms and -accoutrements, and so, a very perfect likeness of her brother, maketh -appearance with the watch. Nor was she discovered, but by favour of -the night was really taken for him she did represent. A gentle act, in -truth! for albeit she had donned a man’s dress and arms, yet was it not -to make a constant habit thereof, but for the nonce only to do a good -office for her brother. And indeed ’tis said no love is like that of -brother and sister, and further that in a good cause no risk should be -spared to show a gentle intrepidity of heart, in whatsoever place it be. - -I ween the corporal of the guard which was then in command of the -squad in which was this fair girl, when he wist of her act, was sore -vexed he had not better recognized her, so to have published abroad her -merit on the spot, or mayhap to have relieved her of standing sentry, -or else merely to have taken his pleasure in gazing on her beauty and -grace, and her military bearing; for no doubt at all she did study in -all things to counterfeit a soldier’s mien. - -Of a surety so fine a deed could scarce be overpraised, and above all -when the occasion was so excellent, and the thing carried out for a -brother’s sake. The like was done by the gentle Richardet, in the -Romance, but for different purpose, when after hearing one evening -his sister Bramante discourse of the beauties of the fair Princess of -Spain, and of her own love and vain desires after her, he did take her -accoutrements and fine frock, after she was to bed, and so disguiseth -himself in the likeness of his sister,—the which he could readily -accomplish, so like they were in face and beauty. Then presently, under -this feigned form he did win from the said lovely Princess what was -denied his sister by reason of her sex. Whereof, however, great hurt -had come to him, but for the favour of Roger, who taking him for his -mistress Bramante, did save him scatheless of death.[25] - -Now as to the ladies of Sienna, I have heard it of M. de La Chapelle -des Ursins, which was at that time in Italy, and did make report of -this their gallant exploit to our late King Henri II. of France, how -that this monarch did find the same so noble, that with tears in his -eyes he took an oath, an if one day God should grant him peace or truce -with the Emperor, he would hie him with his galleys across the Tuscan -sea, and so to Sienna, to see this city so well affected to him and -his party, and thank the citizens for their good will and gallantry, -and above all to behold these fair and honourable ladies and give them -especial thanks. - -I am sure he would not have failed so to do, for he did highly -honour the said good and noble dames. Accordingly he did write them, -addressing chiefly the three chief leaders, letters the most gracious -possible, full of thanks and compliments, the which did pleasure them -greatly and animate their courage to yet an higher pitch. - -Alas! the truce came right enough some while after; but meantime the -city had been taken, as I have described elsewhere. Truly ’twas an -irreparable loss to France to be deprived of so noble and affectionate -an ally, which mindful and conscious of the ties of its ancient origin, -was always fain to join us and take place in our ranks. For they say -these gallant Siennese be sprung from that people of France which in -Gaul they did call the Senones in old times, now known as the folk of -Sens. Moreover they do retain to this day somewhat of the humour of -us Frenchmen; they do very much wear their heart on their sleeve, as -the saying is, and be quick, sudden and keen like us. The Siennese -ladies likewise have much of those pretty ways and charming manners and -graceful familiarities which be the especial mark of Frenchwomen. - -I have read in an old Chronicle, which I have cited elsewhere, how -King Charles VIII., on his Naples journey, when he did come to Sienna, -was there welcomed with so magnificent and so triumphal an entry, as -that it did surpass all the others he received in all Italy. They did -even go so far by way of showing greater respect and as a sign of -humbleness, as to take all the city gates from off their hinges and -lay the same flat on the ground; and so long as he did tarry there, the -gates were thus left open and unguarded to all that came and went, then -after, on his departure, set up again as before. - -I leave you to imagine if the King, and all his Court and army, had not -ample and sufficient cause to love and honour this city (as indeed he -did always), and to say all possible good thereof. In fact their stay -there was exceeding agreeable to him and to all, and ’twas forbid under -penalty of death to offer any sort of insult, as truly not the very -smallest did ever occur. Ah! gallant folk of Sienna, may ye live for -ever! Would to heaven ye were still ours in all else, as it may well -be, ye are yet in heart and soul! For the overrule of a King of France -is far gentler than that of a Duke of Florence; and besides this, the -kinship of blood can never go for naught. If only we were as near -neighbours as we be actually remote from each other, we might very like -be found at one in will and deed. - -In like wise the chiefest ladies of Pavia, at the siege of that town by -King Francis I. of France, following the lead and example of the noble -Countess Hippolita de Malespina, their generalissima, did set them to -carrying of the earth-baskets, shifting soil and repairing the breaches -in their walls, vying with the soldiery in their activity. - -Conduct like that of the Siennese dames I have just told of, myself -did behold on the part of certain ladies of La Rochelle,[26] at the -siege of their town. And I remember me how on the first Sunday of Lent -during the siege, the King’s brother, our General, did summon M. de la -Noue to come before him on his parole, and speak with him and give -account of the negotiations he had charged him withal on behalf of the -said city,—all the tale whereof is long and most curious, as I do hope -elsewhere to describe the same. M. de la Noue failed not to appear, to -which end M. d’Estrozze was given as an hostage on the town, and truce -was made for that day and for the next following.[27*] - -This truce once concluded, there did appear immediately, as on our side -we too did show us outside our trenches, many of the towns-folk on the -ramparts and walls. And notable over all were seen an hundred or so of -noble ladies and citizens’ wives and daughters, the greatest, richest -and fairest of all the town, all clad in white, the dress, which did -cover head as well as body, being all of fine white Holland linen, -that ’twas a very fair sight to see. And they had adopted this dress -by reason of the fortification of the ramparts at which they were at -work, whether carrying of the earth-baskets or moving the soil. Now -other garments would have soon grown foul, but these white ones had -but to be sent to the wash, and all was well again; beside, with this -white costume were they more readily distinguished among the rest. For -our part we were much delighted to behold these fair ladies, and I do -assure you many of us did find more divertisement herein than in aught -else. Nor were they the least chary of giving us a sight of them, for -they did line the edge of the rampart, standing in a most gracious -and agreeable attitude, so as they were well worth our looking at and -longing after. - -We were right curious to learn what ladies they were. The towns-folk -did inform us they were a company of ladies so sworn and banded -together, and so attired for the work at the fortifications and for -the performing of suchlike services to their native city. And of a -truth did they do good service, even to the more virile and stalwart of -them bearing arms. Yea! I have heard it told of one, how, for having -oft repulsed her foes with a pike, she doth to this day keep the same -carefully as ’twere a sacred relic, so that she would not part with it -nor sell it for much money, so dear a home treasure doth she hold it. - -I have heard the tale told by sundry old Knights Commanders of Rhodes, -and have even read the same in an old book, how that, when Rhodes was -besieged by Sultan Soliman, the fair dames and damsels of that place -did in no wise spare their fair faces and tender and delicate bodies, -for to bear their full share of the hardships and fatigues of the -siege, but would even come forward many a time at the most hot and -dangerous attacks, and gallantly second the knights and soldiery to -bear up against the same. Ah! fair Rhodian maids, your name and fame is -for all time; and ill did you deserve to be now fallen under the rule -of infidel barbarians![28*] In the reign of our good King Francis I., -the town of Saint-Riquier in Picardy was attempted and assailed by a -Flemish gentleman, named Domrin, Ensign of M. du Ru, accompanied by two -hundred men at arms and two thousand foot folk, beside some artillery. -Inside the place were but an hundred foot men, the which was far too -few for defence. It had for sure been captured, but that the women of -the town did appear on the walls with arms in hand, boiling water and -oil and stones, and did gallantly repulse the foe, albeit these did -exert every effort to gain an entry. Furthermore two of the said brave -ladies did wrest a pair of standards from the hands of the enemy, and -bore them from the walls into the town, the end of all being that the -besiegers were constrained to abandon the breach they had made and the -walls altogether, and make off and retire. The fame of this exploit did -spread through all France, Flanders and Burgundy; while King Francis, -passing by the place some time after, was fain to see the women -concerned, and did praise and thank them for their deed. - -The ladies of Péronne[29] did in like gallant wise, when that town -was besieged by the Comte de Nassau, and did aid the brave soldiers -which were in the place in the same fashion as their sisters of -Saint-Riquier, for which they were esteemed, commended and thanked of -their sovereign. - -The women of Sancerre[29] again, in the late civil wars and during the -siege of their town, were admired and praised for the noble deeds they -did at that time in all sorts. - -Also, during the War of the League, the dames of Vitré[29] did acquit -them right well in similar wise at the besieging of the town by M. de -Mercueur. The women there be very fair and always right daintily put -on, and have ever been so from old time; yet did they not spare their -beauty for to show themselves manlike and courageous. And surely all -manly and brave-hearted deeds, at such a time of need, are as highly to -be esteemed in women as in men. - -Of the same gallant sort were of yore the women of Carthage, who -whenas they beheld their husbands, brothers, kinsfolk and the soldiery -generally cease shooting at the foe, for lack of strings to their -bows, these being all worn out by dint of shooting all through the -long and terrible siege, and for the same cause no longer being able -to provide them with hemp, or flax, or silk, or aught else wherewithal -to make bow-strings, did resolve to cut off their lovely tresses and -fair, yellow locks, not sparing this beauteous honour of their heads -and chief adornment of their beauty. Nay! with their own fair hands, so -white and delicate, they did twist and wind the same and make it into -bow-strings to supply the men of war. And I leave you to imagine with -what high courage and mettle these would now stretch and bend their -bows, shoot their arrows and fight the foe, bearing as they did such -fine favours of the ladies. - -We read in the History of Naples[30] how that great Captain Sforza, -serving under the orders of Queen Jeanne II., having been taken -prisoner by the Queen’s husband, James, and set in strict confinement -and having some taste of the strappado, would without a doubt ere much -longer have had his head cut off, but that his sister did fly to arms -and straight take the field. She made so good a fight, she in her -own person, as that she did capture four of the chiefest Neapolitan -gentlemen, and this done, sent to tell the King that whatsoever -treatment he should deal to her brother, the same would she meet out to -his friends. The end was, he was constrained to make peace and deliver -him up safe and sound. Ah! brave and gallant-hearted sister, rising so -superior to her sex’s weakness! - -I do know of certain sisters and kinswomen, who if but they had dared -a like deed, some while agone, might mayhap have saved alive a gallant -brother of theirs, which was undone for lack of help and timely -succour of the sort. - - - 5. - -Now am I fain to have done with the consideration of these warlike -and great-hearted dames in general, and to speak of some particular -instances of the same. And as the fairest example Antiquity hath to -show us, I will adduce the gallant Zenobia[31] only, to answer for -all. This Queen, after the death of her husband, was too wise to -waste her time, like so many others in like case, in mere lamentation -and vain regrets, but did grasp the reins of his empire in the name -of her children, and make war against the Romans and their Emperor -Aurelian,[31] at that time reigning at Rome. Much trouble did she give -these foes for eight long years, till at the last coming to a pitched -battle with his legions, she was vanquished therein and taken prisoner -and brought before the Emperor. On his asking her how she had had the -hardihood to make war against the Emperors of Rome, she did answer only -this: “Verily! I do well recognise that you are Emperor, seeing that -you have vanquished me.” - -So great content had he of his victory, and so proud thereof was he -and exalted, that he was fain to hold a triumph over her. So with an -exceeding great pomp and magnificence did she walk before his triumphal -car, right gorgeously put on and adorned with much wealth of pearls and -precious stones, superb jewels and great chains of gold, wherewith she -was bound about the body and by the hands and feet, in sign of being -captive and slave of her conqueror. And so it was that by reason of -the heavy weight of her jewels and chains she was constrained to make -sundry pauses and to rest her again and again on this march of triumph. -A fine thing, of a surety, and an admirable, that all vanquished and -prisoner as she was, she could yet give the law to her triumphant -conqueror, and thus make him tarry and wait her pleasure till that she -had recovered breath! A great instance too of good feeling and honest -courtesy on the part of the Emperor, so to allow her breathing space -and rest, and to suffer her weakness, rather than unduly to constrain -or press her to hurry more than she well could. So that one doth scarce -know which to commend the more, the honourable courtesy of the Emperor, -or the Queen’s way of acting,—who it may well be, did play this part -of set purpose, not so much forced thereto by her actual weakness of -body and weariness, as for to make some show of pride and prove to all -how she would and could gather this little sprig of respect in the -evening of her fortunes no less than she had done in the morning-tide -of the same, and let them see how the Emperor did grant her this much -privilege, to wait on her slow steps and lingering progress. - -Much was the Queen gazed at and admired by men and women alike, not -a few of which last had been but too glad to resemble so fair an -apparition. For truly she was one of the most lovely of women, by what -is said of the historians of these events. She was of a very fine, tall -and opulent figure, say they, her carriage right noble, and her grace -and dignity to match; furthermore her face very beautiful and exceeding -pleasing, her eyes dark and piercing. Beside her other beauties, these -writers do give her fine and very white teeth, a keen wit and a modest -bearing, a sincere and at need a kind and merciful heart. Her speech -was eloquent and spoke with a fine clear voice; moreover she was used -always to express her ideas and wishes herself to her soldiers, and -would many a time harangue the same publicly. - -I ween he did so show her to best advantage, thus richly and gracefully -attired in women’s weeds, no less than when she was armed in all points -as the Warrior Queen. For sex doth always count for much; and we may -rightly suppose the Emperor was fain to display her at his triumph only -under guise of her own fair sex, wherein she would seem most beauteous -and agreeable to the populace in all the perfection of her charms. -Furthermore, ’tis to be supposed, so lovely as she was, the Emperor -had tasted and enjoyed her loveliness, and was yet in the enjoyment -thereof. So albeit he had vanquished her in one fashion, yet had -she,—or he, if you prefer it so, for the two be as one in this,—won the -victory in another. - -Mine own wonder is, that seeing the said Zenobia was so beautiful, -the Emperor did not take her and keep her for one of his mistresses; -or else that she did not open and establish by his permission, or -the Senate’s, a shop or market of love and harlotry, as did the fair -Flora in the same city, for to win wealth and store up much gear and -goods, by the toil of her body and shaking of her bed. For to such a -market had surely resorted all the greatest men of Rome, one vying -with other in eagerness; seeing there is no contentment ’twould seem, -or satisfaction in all the world like that of a man’s taking his -will of a Royal or Princely person, and enjoying of a fair Queen, or -Princess or a high-born Lady. As to this I do appeal to such men as -have embarked on these voyages, and made such good traffic there. Now -in this fashion would Queen Zenobia have soon grown rich out of the -purse of these great folks, as did Flora, which did receive no others -in her place of commerce. Had it not been far better for her to make -of her life a scene of merry-making and magnificence, of money getting -and compliments, than to have fallen into that need and extremity of -poverty she did come to? For she was constrained to gain her bread -a-spinning among common work-women, and would have died of hunger, but -that the Senate, taking pity of her in view of her former greatness, -did decree her a pension for her maintenance, and some trifling lands -and possessions, which were for long after known as “Zenobia’s Lands.” -For indeed and indeed is poverty a sore evil; and whosoever can avoid -the same, no matter what transformation be taken to that end, doth well -and right, as one I wot of was used to declare. - -Thus we see how Zenobia did not carry her high courage to the end of -her career, as she should,—and as folk should ever persist in every -course of action to the last. ’Tis said she had had a triumphal car -constructed, the most magnificent ever seen in Rome, to the end she -might, as she was often used to say in her days of high prosperity and -glorying, hold triumph therein at Rome. For her ambition was to conquer -and subdue the Roman Empire! Alas! for her presumption; for it did -all fall out quite otherwise, and the Emperor having won the day, did -take her car for himself, and use it in his own triumph, while she did -march a-foot, and did make as much triumph and ceremonial over her as -if he had vanquished a puissant King,—and more. Yet be sure, a victory -won over a woman, be it gained how it may, is no very great or famous -exploit! - -After a like fashion did Augustus long to triumph over Cleopatra; but -he got no success in this. She did forestall him in good time, and -in the same way which Aemilius Paulus did signify in what he said to -Perseus,[32] when in his captivity he did beseech him to have pity on -him, answering him he should have seen to that beforehand, meaning that -he ought to have killed himself. - -I have heard say that our late King Henri II. did long for no other -thing so sore as to be able to take prisoner the Queen of Hungary, -and this not to treat her ill, albeit she had given him many causes -of offence by her devastations of his territory, but only to have the -glory of holding this great Princess captive, and to see what bearing -and countenance she would show in her prison, and if she would then -be so gallant and proud-spirited as at the head of her armies. For in -truth there is naught else so fine and gallant as such a fair, brave -and high-born lady, when she hath will and courage as had this same -Princess, which did much delight in the name the Spanish soldiers had -given her; for just as they did call her brother the Emperor _el padre -de los soldados_, “the father of the soldiers,” so did they entitle her -_la madre_, “the mother,” of the same. So in old days, in the times of -the Romans, was Victoria or Victorina known in her armies by the name -of “the mother of the camp.” Of a surety, an if a great and beautiful -lady do undertake an exploit of war, she doth contribute much to its -success and giveth much encouragement and spirit to her folk, as myself -have seen in the case of our own Queen Mother, Catherine de Medici, -which did often visit our armies, and so doing did greatly animate -their courage and rouse their ardour. The same is done at this present -by her grand-daughter, the Infanta[33] in Flanders, which doth take the -lead of her army, and show herself a valorous chief of her fighting -men,—so much so that without her and her noble and delightful presence, -Flanders could never have been retained, as all men allow. And never -did even the Queen of Hungary herself, her grand-aunt, make so fair a -show of beauty, valour, great-heartedness and graceful bearing. - -In our histories of France we do read of how much avail was the -presence of the noble-hearted Comtesse de Montfort,[33] when shut up -and besieged in Hennebon. For albeit her men were brave and valiant, -and had quit themselves in battle and withstood the enemy’s assaults -as well as ever any folk could, yet did they at the last begin to -lose heart and talk of surrendering. But she did harangue them so -eloquently, and did re-animate their courage with such good and -intrepid words, inspiriting them so finely and so well, as that they -did hold out till the succour, so long and eagerly desired, did arrive, -and the siege was raised. Nay! she did better still; for whenas the -enemy were set on the attack and were all busied therewith, seeing -their tents to be all left empty and unprotected, she did make a -sally, mounted on a good horse and with fifty good horses to follow -her. In this wise doth she surprise the camp and set it a-fire, the -result being that Charles de Blois, deeming himself to be betrayed, did -straight abandon the assault. On this subject, I will add yet another -little tale: - -During the late Wars of the League, the Prince de Condé, since -deceased, being at Saint-Jean, did send to demand of Madame de -Bourdeille,[34] then a widow of the age of forty, and a very handsome -woman, six or seven of the wealthiest tenants of her estate, the which -had taken refuge in her castle of Mathas at her side. She did refuse -him outright, declaring she would never betray nor give up these -unhappy folk, who had put themselves under her protection and trusted -to her honour for their safety. On this he did summon her for the last -time, informing her that unless she would deliver them up to him, he -would teach her better obedience. She did make reply to this (for -myself was with her by way of rendering help) that, seeing he knew not -himself how to obey, she did find it very strange he should wish to -make others do so, and that so soon as he should have obeyed his King’s -orders, she would obey him. For the rest, she did declare that for all -his threats, she was afraid neither of his cannon nor of his siege, and -how that she was descended from the far-famed Comtesse de Montfort, -from whom her folk had inherited the place, and herself too, and -therewith some share of her gallantry. Further that she was determined -to defend the same so well as that he should never take it, and that -she should win no less fame herein than her ancestress, the aforesaid -Countess, had done at Hennebon. The Prince did ponder long over this -reply, and did delay some days’ space, without further threatening her. -Yet, had he not presently died, he would assuredly have laid siege to -her castle; but in that case was she right well prepared in heart, -resolution, men and gear, to receive him warmly, and I do think he -would have gotten a shameful rebuff. - -Machiavelli, in his book _On the Art of War_, doth relate how that -Catherine, Countess of Forli, was besieged in that her good town -fortress by Cæsar Borgia, aided by the French army, which did make a -most gallant resistance to him, yet at the last was taken. The cause -of its loss was this, that the said strong town was over full of -fortresses and strongholds, for folk to retire from the one to the -other; so much so that Borgia having made his approaches, the Signor -Giovanni de Casale (whom the said Countess had chose for her helper and -protector), did abandon the breach to withdraw into his strongholds. -Through the which error, Borgia did force an entrance and took the -place. And so, saith the author, these errors did much wrong the -high-hearted courage and repute of the said gallant Countess, which -had withstood an army the King of Naples and the Duke of Milan had -not dared to face; and albeit the issue was unfortunate, yet did she -win the honour she so well deserved, and for this exploit many rhymes -and verses were writ in Italy in her honour. This passage is one well -worthy the attention of all such as have to do with the fortifying of -places of strength, and do set them to build therein great numbers of -castles, strongholds, fortresses and citadels. - -To return to our proper subject, we have had in times past many -Princesses and high-born ladies in this our land of France, which have -given excellent marks of their prowess. As did Paule,[35*] daughter -of the Comte de Penthièvre, who was besieged in Roye by the Comte de -Charolais, and did there show herself so gallant and great-hearted -as that, on the town being taken, the Count did grant her very -good conditions, and had her conducted in safety to Compiègne, not -suffering any hurt to be done her. So greatly did he honour her for her -valour,—and this albeit he felt deep resentment against her husband, -whom he held guilty of having tried to work his death by black arts and -sundry evil devices of images and candles. - -Richilda,[36] only daughter and heiress of Mons in Hainault, and -wife of Baldwyn the Sixth, Count of Flanders, did make all efforts -against Robert the Frisian, her brother-in-law, appointed guardian -of the children of Flanders, for to take away from him the duty and -administration of the same, and have it assigned to herself. To which -end she did take up arms with the help of Philip, King of France, and -hazarded two battles[36] against Count Robert. In the first she was -taken prisoner, as was likewise her foe, the said Count Robert, but -afterward were the twain given back in exchange one of the other. A -second battle followed, which she lost, her son Arnulphe being slain -therein, and was driven back to Mons. - -Ysabel of France, daughter of King Philippe le Bel, and wife of Edward -II.[36] of England, and Duke of Guienne, was ill looked on of the King -her husband, through the intrigues of Hugh le Despenser, whereby she -was constrained to withdraw to France with her son Edward. Afterward -she did return to England with the Chevalier de Hainault, her kinsman, -and an army which she did lead thither, and by means of which she did -presently take her husband prisoner. Him she did deliver up into the -hands of men which did soon bring about his death; a fate that overtook -herself likewise, for by reason of her loves with a certain Lord -Mortimer, she was confined by her own son in a castle, and there ended -her days. She it was that did afford the English pretext to quarrel -with France to the sore hurt of the same. Yet surely we have here a -piece of base ingratitude on her son’s part, who all forgetful of great -benefit received, did so cruelly treat his mother for so small a fault. -Small I call it, for that ’twas but natural, and an easy thing, that -after dealing long with men of arms, and grown so accustomed to go in -manly guise with them amid armies and tents and camps, she should do -the like also a-bed. - -This is a thing oft times seen to happen. For example I do refer me -to our Queen Léonor,[37*] Duchess of Guienne, which did accompany her -husband over seas and to the Holy Wars. By dint of much frequenting -of men at arms and troopers and such folk, she did come to derogate -very gravely from her honour,—so far as that she did have dealings -even with the Saracens. For the which the King her husband did put her -away, a thing that cost us very dear. We can but suppose she was fain -to try whether these worthy foes were as gallant champions in a lady’s -chamber as in the open field, and that mayhap ’twas her humour to ever -love valiant wights, and that one valiance doth ever attract another, -as virtue doth to virtue. For verily he saith most true, which doth -declare virtue to be like the lightning, that pierceth through all -things. - -The said Queen Léonor was not the only lady which did accompany her -husband to these same Holy Wars. But both before her day, and with her, -and after her, no few other Princesses and great ladies did along with -their lords take the cross,—not that they did therefore cross their -legs, but did rather open these and stretch them right wide, in such -wise that while some did remain there for good and all, others came -back from the wars most finished harlots. So under pretext of visiting -the Holy Sepulchre, amid all that press of arms they did much amorous -wantoning; for verily, as I have observed afore, arms and love do well -accord together, so close and congruous is the sympathy betwixt these -twain. - -Suchlike dames ought surely to be esteemed, loved and treated like -men,—not as the Amazons did of old, which proclaiming themselves -daughters of Mars, did rid them of their husbands, pretending marriage -was sheer slavery; yet desire enough and to spare had they to go with -other men, for to have daughters of them, but killing all the male -children. - -Jo. Nauclerus, in his _Cosmography_,[38*] relates how, in the year of -Christ 1123, after the death of Tibussa, Queen of the Bohemians, she -who did first close in the town of Prague with walls, and who did very -greatly abhor the power and domination of men, there was one of her -damsels, by name Valasca, which did so well gain over the maids and -matrons of that land by her fair and alluring promises of liberty, -and did so thoroughly disgust and set them against their servitude to -manfolk, as that they did slay each her man, one her husband, another -her brother, another her kinsman or next neighbour, and so in less than -no time were mistresses of the realm. Then having taken their husbands’ -harness of war, they did make such good use thereof, and grew so -valiant and skilled in arms, fighting after the Amazon fashion, as that -they soon gat them several victories. Yet were they presently, by the -conduct and cunning wiles of one Primislaus, husband of Tibussa, a man -she had raised up from low and humble state, routed entirely and put to -death. This was sure God Almighty’s vengeance for so heinous an act -and dread attempt, no less indeed than to destroy the human race itself. - - - 6. - -Thus did these Amazonian dames find no other fashion of showing forth -their gallant spirit for fine, bold and manly exploits but only by -these cruel deeds we have named. On the contrary, how many Empresses, -Queens, Princesses and other high-born Ladies, have done the like by -means of noble acts, both in the governance and management of their -dominions, and in other excellent ways, whereof the Histories be so -full that I need not recount the same. For the desire of holding sway, -of reigning and ruling, doth lodge within women’s breasts no less than -in men’s, and they be just as eager after domination as the other sex. - -Well! now I am about to speak of one that was unsullied of this -ambition, to wit Vittoria Colonna,[39] wife of the Marquis de Pescaire. -I have read of this lady in a Spanish book, how that whenas the said -Marquis did hearken to the fine offers made him by Hieronimo Mouron -on the Pope’s behalf (as I have said in a previous passage) of the -Kingdom of Naples, if only he would enter into the league with him, -she being informed of the matter by her husband himself, who did never -hide aught from her of his privy affairs, neither small nor great, did -write to him (for she had an excellent gift of language), and bade him -remember his ancient valour and virtue, the which had given him such -glory and high repute, as that these did exceed the fame and fortune of -the greatest Kings of the earth. She then went on: _non con grandeza -de los reynos, de Estados ny de hermosos titulos, sino con fè illustre -y clara virtud, se alcançava la honra, la qual con loor siempre vivo, -legava a los descendientes; y que no havia ningun grado tan alto que no -fuese vencido de una trahicion y mala fe. Que por esto, ningun deseo -tenia de ser muger de rey, queriendo antes ser muger de tal capitan, -que no solamente en guerra con valorosa mano, mas en paz con gran -honra de animo no vencido, havia sabido vencer reyes, y grandissimos -principes, y capitanes, y darlos a triunfos, y imperiarlos_,—“not by -the greatness of Kingdoms and of vast Dominions, nor yet of high and -sounding titles, but by fair faith and unsullied virtue, is honour -won,—the virtue that with ever living praise doth go down to all -descendants. And there is never a rank so exalted but it were undone -and spoiled by treason wrought and good faith broke. For such a prize -she had no wish to be a King’s wife, but had rather be a simple -Captain’s such as he, which not alone in war by his valiant arm, but in -peace likewise with the honour of an unbroken spirit, had been strong -to vanquish Kings, great Princes and mighty Captains, to triumph over -the same and master them.” High courage and virtue and truth did all -mark this lady’s words; for truly to reign by ill faith is a very evil -and sorry thing, but to give the law to Kings and kingdoms by honesty -and worth a right noble one. - -Fulvia, wife of Publius Clodius, and in second wedlock that of Mark -Antony, finding but small amusement in her household tasks, did set -herself to higher business, to manage affairs of State that is, till -she did win herself the repute of ruling the Rulers of Rome.[40*] And -indeed Cleopatra did owe her some gratitude and obligation for having -so well trained and disciplined Mark Antony to obey and bend him under -the laws of submission. - -We read moreover of that great French Prince Charles Martel, which in -his day would never take nor bear the title of King, as ’twas within -his power to do, but liked better to govern Kings and give orders to -the same. - -However let us speak of some of our own countrywomen. We had, in our -War of the League, Madame de Montpensier, sister of the late Duc de -Guise, who was a great Stateswoman, and did contribute much, as well -by the subtile inventions of her fine spirit as by the labour of her -hands, to build up the said league. And after the same had been now -well established, playing one day at cards (for she doth well love this -pastime) and taking the first deal, on their telling her she should -well shuffle the cards, she did answer before all the company: “I have -shuffled the cards so well, as that they could not be better shuffled -or combined together.” This would all have turned out well, if only her -friends had lived; on whose unhappy end however, without losing heart -at all at such a loss, she did set herself to avenge them. And having -heard the news when in Paris, she doth not shut herself in her chamber -to indulge her grief, as most other women would have done, but cometh -forth of her house with her brother’s children, and holding these by -the hand, doth take them up and down the city, making public mourning -of her bereavement before the citizens, rousing the same by her tears -and piteous cries and sad words which she did utter to all, to take up -arms and rise in fierce protest, and insult the King’s[41] house and -picture, as we have seen done, and I do hope to relate in his life, -and deny all fealty to him, swearing rank rebellion to his authority, -all which did presently result in his murder. As to which ’tis well -enough known what persons, men and women, did counsel the same, and are -properly guilty thereof. Of a surety no sister’s heart, losing such -brothers, could well digest such deadly venom without vengeance of this -foul murder. - -I have heard it related how after she had thus put the good folk of -Paris in so great a state of animosity and dissatisfaction, she did set -her forth to ask of the Duke of Parma his help toward her vengeance. -So thither she maketh her way, but by such long and heavy stages as -that her coach horses were left so wearied out and foundered, stranded -in the mire somewhere in the very midst of Picardy, that they could -not go another step either forward or backward, nor put one foot -before another. As chance would have it, there did pass that way a -very honourable gentleman of that countryside, which was a Protestant, -and who, albeit she was disguised both as to name and in dress, did -recognize her well enough. But yet, ignoring all the hurts she had -wrought against his fellows in religion, and the hatred she bare them, -with frank and full courtesy, he did thus accost her: “Madam, I know -you well, and am your most humble servant. I find you in ill case, and -beg you, an if you will, come to my house, which is close at hand, to -dry your clothes and rest you. I will afford you every convenience I -can to the very best of my ability. Have no fear; for though I be of -the reformed faith, which you do hate so sore in us, I would fain not -leave you without offering you a courtesy you do stand much in need -of.” This fair offer she did in no wise refuse, but did accept very -readily; then after that he had provided her with such things as were -needful, she doth take the road again, he conducting her on her way two -leagues, though all the while she did keep secret from him the purport -of her journey. Later on in the course of the war, by what I have -heard, she did repay her debt to the said gentleman by many acts of -courtesy done him. - -Many have wondered at her trusting of herself to him, being Huguenot -as he was. But there! necessity hath no law; and beside, she did see -him so honourable seeming, and heard him speak so honestly and frankly, -that she could not but believe him disposed to deal fairly with her. - -As for Madame de Nemours, her mother, who was thrown into prison after -the murder of her noble son’s children, there can be little doubt of -the despair and desolation she was left in by so intolerable a loss; -and albeit till that day she had ever shown herself of a gentle and -cold humour, and one that did need good and sufficient cause to rouse -her, she did now spew forth a thousand insults against the King, and -cast in his teeth a thousand curses and execrations, going so far (for -verily what deed or word could ever match the vehemence of such a loss -and bitter sorrow?) as always to speak of him by no other name but -this, _that Tyrant_. Later, being come somewhat to herself, she would -say: “Alas! what say I,—Tyrant? Nay! nay! I will not call him so, but a -most good and clement King, if only he will kill me as he hath killed -my children, to take me out of the wretchedness wherein I am, and -remove me to the blessedness of God’s heaven!” Later again, softening -still further her words and bitter cries, and finding some surcease -of sorrow, she would say naught else but only, “Ah! my children! my -poor children!”—repeating these same words over and over again with -floods of tears, that ’twould have melted an heart of stone. Alas! -she might well lament and deplore them so sore, being so good and -great hearted, so virtuous and so valorous, as they were, but above -all the noble Duc de Guise, a worthy eldest son and true paragon of -all valour and true-heartedness. Moreover she did love her children -so fondly, that one day as I was discoursing with a noble lady of the -Court of the said Madame de Nemours, she told me how that Princess was -the happiest in all the world, for sundry reasons which she did give -me,—except only in one thing, which was that she did love her children -over much; for that she did love them with such excess of fondness -as that the common anxiety she had of their safety and the fear some -ill should happen them, did cloud all her happiness, making her to -live always in inquietude and alarm for their sake. I leave you then, -reader, to imagine how grievous was the sorrow, bitterness and pain she -did feel at the death of these twain, and how lively the terror for -the other,[42*] which was away in the neighbourhood of Lyons, as well -as for the Duke her husband, then a prisoner. For of his imprisonment -she had never a suspicion, as herself did declare, nor of his death -neither, as I have said above. - -When she was removed from the Castle of Blois to be conveyed to that of -Amboise for straiter confinement therein, just as she had passed the -gate, she did turn her round and lifted her head toward the figure of -King Louis XII., her grandfather, which is there carven in stone above -the door, on horseback and with a very noble mien and warlike bearing. -So she, tarrying there a little space and gazing thereon, said in a -loud voice before a great number of folk which had come together, with -a fine bold look which did never desert her: “An if he which is there -pourtrayed were alive, he would never suffer his granddaughter thus -to be carried away prisoner, and treated as she is this day.” Then -with these words, she did go on her way, without further remonstrance. -Understand this, that in her heart she was invoking and making appeal -to the manes of that her great-hearted ancestor, to avenge her of -the injustice of her imprisonment. Herein she acted precisely as did -certain of the conspirators for Cæsar’s death, which as they were -about to strike their blow, did turn them toward the statue of Pompey, -and did inwardly invoke and make appeal to the shade of his valiant -arm, so puissant of old, to conduct the emprise they were set on to a -successful issue. It may well be the invocation of this Princess may -have something aided and advanced the death of the King which had so -outraged her. A lady of high heart and spirit which doth thus brood -over vengeance to come is no little to be dreaded. - -I do remember me how, when her late husband, the Duc de Guise, did get -the stroke whereof he died, she was at the time in his camp, having -come thither some days previously to visit the same. So soon as ever -he did come into his quarters wounded, she did advance to meet him as -far as the door of his lodging all tearful and despairing, and after -saluting him, did suddenly cry out: “Can it be that the wretch which -hath struck this blow and he that hath set him on (signifying her -suspicion of the Admiral de Coligny) should go unpunished? Oh God! an -if thou art just, as thou must needs be, avenge this deed; or else -...,” but stopping at this word, she did not end her sentence, for that -her noble husband did interrupt her, saying: “Nay! dear heart, defy not -God. An if ’tis He which hath sent me this for my sins, His will be -done, and we should glorify him therefor. But an if it come from other, -seeing vengeance is His alone, He will surely exact the penalty without -you.” Natheless, when he was dead, did she so fiercely follow up her -revenge, as that the murderer was torn to pieces of four horses,[43*] -while the supposed author of the crime was assassinated after the lapse -of some years, as I will tell in its proper place. This was due to the -instruction she did give her son, as myself have seen, and the counsel -and persuasion she did feed him withal from his tenderest years, till -at the last final and complete vengeance was accomplished. - - - 7. - -The counsel and appeal of great-hearted wives and loving mothers be of -no small avail in such matters. As to this, I do remember me how, when -King Charles IX. was making his Royal progress about his Kingdom, and -was now at Bordeaux, the Baron de Bournazel was put in prison, a very -brave and honourable gentleman of Gascony, for having slain another -gentleman of his own neighbourhood, named La Tour,—and, so ’twas said, -by dint of much traitorous subtlety. The widow did so eagerly press for -his punishment, as that care was taken the news should reach the King’s -and Queen’s chambers, that they were about to cut off the said Baron’s -head. Hereon did the gentlemen and ladies of the Court of a sudden -bestir themselves, and much effort was made to save his life. Twice -over were the King and Queen besought to grant his pardon. The High -Chancellor did set him strongly against this, saying justice must needs -be done; whereas the King was much in favour of mercy, for that he was -a young man, and asked for naught better than to save his life, as he -was one of the gallants frequenting the Court, and M. de Cipierre[44] -was keen in urging the same course. Yet was the hour of execution -now drawing nigh, without aught being done,—to the astonishment of -everybody. - -Hereupon did M. de Nemours intervene, which loved the unhappy Baron, -who had followed him gallantly on sundry fields of battle. The Duke -went and threw himself at the Queen’s feet, and did earnestly beseech -her to give the poor gentleman his life, begging and praying so hard -and pressing her so with his words as that the favour was e’en given -him at the last. Then on the instant was sent a Captain of the Guard, -which went and sought the man out and took him from the prison, just -as he was being led forth to his doom. Thus was he saved, but in such -fearful circumstances that a look of terror did remain ever after -imprinted on his features, and he could never thereafter regain his -colour, as myself have seen. I have heard tell how the same thing did -happen to M. de Saint-Vallier, which did have a fine escape by the -interest of M. de Bourbon. - -Meantime however the widow was not idle, but did come next day to -intercept the King as he was going to Mass, and did throw herself at -his feet. She did present him her son, which might be three or four -years old, saying thus: “At the least, Sire, as you have given pardon -to this child’s murderer, I do beseech you grant the same to him now -at this moment, for the time when he shall be grown up and shall have -taken his vengeance and slain that wretch.” And from that time onward, -by what I have heard said, the mother would come every morning to awake -her child; and showing him the bloody shirt his father had on when he -was killed, would repeat to him three times over: “Mark this token, -well, and bear well in mind, when you be grown up, to avenge this -wrong; else do I disinherit you.” A bitter spirit of revenge truly! - -Myself when I was in Spain, did hear the tale how Antonio Roques, one -of the most brave and valiant, cunning, cautious and skilful, famous -and withal most courteous, bandits ever was in all Spain (’tis a matter -of common knowledge), did in his early years desire to enter religion -and be ordained priest. But the day being now come when he was to sing -his first mass, just as he was coming forth from the vestry and was -stepping with great ceremony toward the High Altar of his parish Church -duly robed and accoutred to do his office, and chalice in hand, he did -hear his mother saying to him as he passed her: _Ah! vellaco, vellaco, -mejor seria de vengar la muerte de tu padre, que de cantar misa_,—“Ah! -wretch and miscreant that you are! ’twere better far to avenge your -father’s death than to be singing Mass.” This word did so touch him -at heart, as that he doth coldly turn him about in mid progress, and -back to the vestry, where he doth unrobe him, pretending his heart had -failed him from indisposition, and that it should be for another time. -Then off to the mountains to join the brigands, among whom he doth -presently win such esteem and renown that he was chose their chief; -there he doth many crimes and thefts, and avengeth his father’s death, -which had been killed, some said, of a comrade, though others declared -him a victim of the King’s justice. This tale was told me by one that -was a bandit himself, and had been under his orders in former days. -This man did bepraise him to the third heaven; and true it is the -Emperor Charles could never do him any hurt. - -But to return once more to Madame de Nemours, the King did keep her in -prison scarce any time, whereof was M. d’Escars in part the cause. He -did soon release her, for to send her on a mission to the Ducs du Maine -and de Nemours, and other Princes members of the League, bearing to all -words of peace and oblivion of all past grievances:—dead men were dead, -and there an end; best be good friends as aforetime. In fact, the King -did take an oath of her, that she would faithfully perform this said -embassy. Accordingly on her arrival, at first accost ’twas naught but -tears and lamentations and regrets for all their losses; then anon did -she make report of her instructions, whereto M. du Maine did reply, -asking her if this were her own advice. She answered simply: “I have -not come hither, my son, to advise you, but only to repeat to you the -message I am charged withal and bidden give you. ’Tis for you to think -whether you have sufficient cause to do so, and if your duty points -that way. As to what I tell you, your heart and your conscience should -give you the best advice. For myself, I do but discharge a commission -I have promised to fulfil.” Natheless, under the rose, she knew well -enough how to stir the fire, which did long burn so fierce. - -Many folks have wondered greatly, how the King, that was so wise and -one of the most adroit men of his Kingdom, came to employ this lady -for such an office, having so sorely injured her that she could have -had neither heart nor feeling if she had taken therein the very least -pains in the world; but there, she did simply make mock of him and his -instructions. Report said at the time this was the fine advice of the -Maréchal de Retz, who did give a like piece of counsel to King Charles, -namely to send M. de la Noue into the town of La Rochelle, for to -persuade the inhabitants to peace and their proper duty and allegiance. -The better to accredit him to them, he did permit him to play the -eager partisan on their side and on his own, to fight desperately for -them, and give them counsel and advice against the King,—but all under -this condition that when his services should be claimed by the King or -the King’s brother, which was his Lieutenant General, and he ordered -to leave the place, he would obey. This he did and all else, making -fierce enough war, and finally quitting the place; yet meanwhile he -did so confirm his folk and sharpen their spirit, and did give them -such excellent lessons and so greatly encouraged them, as that for that -time they did cut our beards to rights for us.[45*] Many would have it, -there was no subtlety in all this; but I did see it all with mine own -eyes, and I do hope to give full account of these doings elsewhere. At -any rate this was all the said Maréchal did avail his King and country; -one that ’twere more natural surely to hold a charlatan and swindler -than a good counsellor and a Marshal of France. - -I will tell one other little word of the aforesaid Duchesse de Nemours. -I have heard it said that at the time they were framing the famous -League, and she would be examining the papers and the lists of the -towns which did join it, not yet seeing Paris figuring therein, she -would ever say to her son: “All this is naught, my son; we must have -Paris to boot. If you have not Paris, you have done naught; wherefore, -ho! for Paris city.” And never a word but Paris, Paris, was always in -her mouth; and the end of it all was the barricades that were seen -afterward. - - - 8. - -In this we see how a brave heart doth ever fly at the highest game. -And this doth again remind me of a little tale I have read in a -Spanish Romance called _la Conquista de Navarra_, “The Conquest of -Navarre.”[46] This Kingdom having been taken and usurped from King John -of Navarre by the King of Aragon, Louis XII. did send an army under M. -de la Palice to win it back. Our King did send word to the Queen, Donna -Catherine, by M. de la Palice which did bring her the news, that she -should come to the Court of France and there tarry with his Queen Anne, -while that the King, her husband, along with M. de la Palice was making -essay to recover the Kingdom. The Queen did make him this gallant -answer: “How now, Sir! I did suppose the King your master had sent -you hither for to carry me with you to my Kingdom and set me again at -Pampeluna, and for me to accompany you thither, as my mind was made up -to do and my preparations made. Yet now you bid me go stay at the Court -of France? Truly a poor hope and ill augury for me! I see plainly -I shall never set foot in mine own land again.” And even as she did -presage, the thing fell out. - -It was told and commanded the Duchess de Valentinois, on the approach -of the death of King Henri II., when his health was now despaired of, -to retire to her mansion in Paris, and go no more into his chamber,—to -the end she might not disturb him in his pious meditations, and no less -on account of the hostility certain did bear her. Then when she had -so withdrawn, they did send to her again to demand sundry rings and -jewels, which did belong to the Crown and which she must give back. -At this she did on a sudden ask the worthy spokesman: “Why! is the -King dead then?”—“No! Madam,” replied the other, “but it can scarce -be long first.”—“As long as there is one breath of life left in his -body, I would have my enemies to know I fear them not a whit, and that -I will never obey them, so long as he shall be alive. My courage is -still invincible. But when he is dead, I care not to live on after him, -and all the vexations you could inflict on me would be but kindness -compared with the bitterness of my loss. So, whether my King be quick -or dead, I fear not mine enemies at all.” - -Herein did this fair lady show great spirit, and a true heart. Yet she -did not die, ’twill be objected of some, as she did say she would. -True! yet did she not fail to experience some threatenings of death; -beside, she did better to choose rather to live than to die, for to -show her enemies she was no wise afeared of them. Having erst seen -them shake and tremble before her, she would fain escape doing the -same before them, and did wish to show so good a face and confident -look to them as that they never durst do her any displeasure. Nay! -more than this; within two years’ space they did seek to her more -than ever, and renewed their friendship with her, as I did myself see. -And this is the way with great lords and ladies, which have little -solid continuance in their friendships, and in their differences do -readily make it up again, like thieves at a fair, and the same with all -their loves and hatreds. This we smaller folks do never do; for either -we must needs fight, avenge and die, or else make up the quarrel by -way of punctilious, minutely ordered and carefully arranged terms of -agreement. So in this we do play the better part. - -We cannot but admire this lady’s conduct and behaviour; and truly these -high-born dames which have to do with affairs of State, do commonly act -in a grander way than the ordinary run of women. And this is why our -late King Henri III., last deceased, and the Queen, his mother, did -by no means love such ladies of their Court as did much trouble their -wits with matters of State and put their nose therein and did concern -them to speak of other matters near touching the government of the -Kingdom. ’Twas as if, their Majesties were used to declare, they had -some great part therein and might be heirs of the same, or just as if -they had given the sweat of their bodies and force of their hands to -its management and maintenance, like men; whereas, for a mere pastime, -talking at the fireside, sitting comfortably in their chairs or lying -on their pillows, or their daybeds, they would discourse at their ease -of the world at large and the state of the Country, as if they did -arrange it all. On this point a certain great lady of fashion, whom I -will not name, did one time make a shrewd reply, who taking on her to -say out all her say on occasion of the first meeting of the Estates at -Blois, their Majesties did cause a slight reprimand to be given her, -telling her she should attend to the affairs of her own house and her -prayers to God. To this being something too free in her speech, she -did answer thus: “In days of yore when Princes, Kings and great Lords -did take the cross and hie them over-seas, to do so noble exploits in -the Holy Land, insooth ’twas allowed us women only to fast and pray, -make orisons and vows, that God might give them a successful journey -and a safe return. But nowadays that we do see them do naught better -than ourselves, ’tis surely allowed us to speak of all matters; for as -to praying God for them, why should we do so, seeing they do no more -heroic deeds than ourselves?” - -This speech was for sure too bold and outspoken, and indeed it came -very nigh to costing her dear. She had all the difficulty in the world -to win pardon and excuse, which she had to ask for right humbly; and -had it not been for a certain private reason I could tell, and if I -would, she had received dire pains and penalties therefor, and very -signal punishment. - -’Tis not always well to speak out a sharp saying such as this, when -it cometh to the lips. Myself have seen not a few folk which could in -no wise govern their wit in this sort, but were more untamed than a -Barbary charger. Finding a good shrewd gibe in their mouth, out they -must spit it, without sparing relations, friends or superiors. Many -such I have known at our own Court of France, where they were well -called _Marquis et Marquises de belle-bouche_, “Lords and Ladies of -Frank Speech;” but many and many a time did their frank speech bring -them in sore trouble. - - - 9. - -Having thus described the brave and gallant bearing of sundry ladies -on sundry noble occasions of their life, I am fain now to give some -examples of the like high qualities displayed at their death. Without -borrowing any instance of Antiquity, I will merely adduce that of the -late deceased Queen Regent[47] mother of our noble King Francis I. In -her day this Princess, as I have heard many of mine acquaintance say, -both men and women, was a very fair lady, and very gay and gallant to -boot, which she did continue to be even in her declining years. And for -this cause, when folk did talk to her of death, she did exceedingly -mislike such discourse, not excepting preachers which did hold forth -on this subject in their sermons. “As if,” she would cry, “we did not -all of us know well enough we must one day die. The fact is, these -preachers, whenas they can find naught further to say in their sermons, -and be at the end of their powers of invention, like other simple folk, -do take refuge in this theme of death.” The late Queen of Navarre, her -daughter, did no less than her mother detest these same harpings on -death and sermonizings on mortality. - -Well, being now come near her fated end, and lying on her deathbed, -three days before that event, she did see her chamber at night all lit -up by a brilliant gleam shining in through the window. She did hereupon -chide her bedchamber women, which were sitting up with her, asking them -for why they did make so big and bright a fire. But they did answer, -that there was but a small fire burning, and that ’twas the moon which -did shine so bright and cause the illumination. “Why!” she did exclaim, -“there is no moon at this time of the month; it hath no business to be -shining now.” And of a sudden, bidding open her curtain, she did behold -a comet, which shone right on her bed. “Ah, look!” she cried, “yonder -is a sign which doth not appear for persons of common quality. God -doth show it forth only for us great lords and ladies. Shut the window -again; ’tis a comet, announcing my death; we must prepare therefor.” So -next morning, having sent to seek her confessor, she did perform all -the duty of a good Christian, albeit the physicians did assure her she -was not yet come to this. “Had I not seen the sign of my death,” she -said, “I should believe you, for indeed I do not feel me so far gone,” -and thereon did describe to them all the appearance of the comet. -Finally, three days later, leaving all concerns of this world, she did -pass away. - -I cannot but believe but that great ladies, and such as be young, -beautiful and high-born, do feel greater and more sore regret to leave -this world than other women. Yet will I now name some such, which -have made light of death, and have met the same with a good heart, -though for the moment the announcement thereof was exceeding bitter -and hateful to them. The late Comtesse de La Rochefoucault,[48*] of -the house of Roye, in my opinion and that of many beside, one of the -fairest and most charming women in all France, when her minister (for -she was of the Reformed Faith, as everybody is aware) did warn her -she must think no more of worldly things, and that her hour was now -come, that she must presently away to God which was calling her, and -leave all worldly vanities, which were naught as compared with the -blessedness of heaven, she said to him thus: “This is all very well, -Sir Minister, to say to women which have no great contentment and -pleasure in this world, and which have one foot in the grave already; -but to me, that am no more than in the bloom of mine age and my delight -in this world and my beauty, your sentence is exceeding bitter. And -albeit I have more cause to hug myself in this world than in any other, -and much reason to regret dying, yet would I fain show you my high -courage herein, and do assure you I take my death with as good will -as the most common, abject, low, foul old crone that ever was in this -world.” So presently, she did set her to sing psalms with much pious -devotion, and so died. - -Madame d’Espernon,[49*] of the house of Candale, was attacked of so -sudden and deadly a malady as that she was carried off in less than a -week. Before her death, she did essay all remedies which might cure -her, imploring the help of men and of God in most fervent prayers, as -well as of all her friends, and her retainers male and female, taking -it very hard that she was to die so young. But when they did reason -with her and inform her she must verily and indeed quit this world, -and that no remedy was of any avail: “Is it true?” she said; “leave me -alone then, I will make up my mind to bear it bravely.” These were the -exact words she used. Then lifting up her two soft, white arms, and -laying her two hands one against the other, with an open look and a -confident spirit, she made her ready to wait death with all patience, -and to leave this world, which she did proceed to abjure in very pious -and Christian terms. Thus did she die as a devout and good Christian -should, at the age of twenty-six, being one of the handsomest and most -charming women of her time. - -’Tis not right, they say, to praise one’s own belongings; on the other -hand what is at once good and true should not be kept hid. This is why -I am fain in this place to commend Madame d’Aubeterre,[50] mine own -niece and daughter of my elder brother, who as all they that have seen -her at Court or elsewhere will go with me in saying, was one of the -fairest and most perfect ladies you could see, as well in body as in -mind. The former did plainly and externally show forth its excellence -in her handsome and charming face, her graceful figure, and all her -sweet mien and bearing; while for the mind, ’twas divinely gifted and -ignorant of naught it were meet to know. Her discourse was very fit, -simple and unadorned, and did flow right smoothly and agreeably from -her lips, whether in serious converse or in merry interchange of wit. -No woman have I ever seen which, in my opinion, did more resemble -our Queen Marguerite of France, as well in her general air as in her -special charms; and I did once hear the Queen Mother say the same. To -say this is by itself commendation enough, so I will add no more; none -which have ever seen her, will, I am well assured, give me the lie as -to this. Of a sudden it befell this lady to be attacked by a malady, -which the physicians did fail to recognize rightly, merely wasting -their Latin in the attempt. Herself, however, did believe she had been -poisoned; though I will not say in what quarter. Still God will avenge -all, and mayhap the guilty in this matter will yet be punished. She -did all she could in the way of remedies,—though not, she did declare, -because she was afeared of dying. For since her husband’s death, she -had lost all fear of this, albeit he was for sure in no wise her equal -in merit, nor deserving of her or of the tender tears her fair eyes did -shed after his death. Yet would she have been right glad to live on a -while longer for the love of her daughter, the which she was leaving a -tender slip of a girl. This last was a good and excellent reason, while -regrets for an husband that was both foolish and vexatious are surely -but vain and idle. - -Thus she, seeing now no remedy was of avail, and feeling her own pulse, -which she did herself try and find to be galloping fast (for she had -understanding of all such matters), two days before she died, did send -to summon her daughter,[51] and did make her a very good and pious -exhortation, such as no other mother mayhap that I know of could have -made a finer one or one better expressed,—at once instructing her how -to live in this world and how to win the grace of God in the next; this -ended, she did give her her blessing, bidding her no more trouble with -her tears the sweet easefulness and repose she was about to enjoy with -God. Presently she did ask for her mirror, and looking at herself very -fixedly therein, did exclaim, “Ah! traitor face, that doth in no wise -declare my sickness (for indeed ’twas as fair to look on as ever), thou -art yet unchanged; but very soon death, which is drawing nigh, will -have the better of thy beauty, which shall rot away and be devoured of -worms.” Moreover she had put the most part of her rings on her fingers; -and gazing on these, and her hand withal, which was very well shaped: -“Lo! a vanity I have much loved in days gone-by; yet now I do quit -the same willingly, to bedeck me in the other world with another much -fairer adornment.” - -Then seeing her sisters weeping their eyes out at her bedside, she -did comfort them, exhorting them to take in good part, as she did, -what God was pleased to send her, and saying that as they had always -loved each other so well, they should not grieve at that which did -bring her only joy and contentment. She did further tell them that the -fond friendship she had ever borne them should be eternal, beseeching -them to return her the like, and above all to extend it to her child. -Presently seeing them but weep the harder at this, she said once more: -“Sisters mine, an if ye do love me, why do ye not rejoice with me over -the exchange I make of a wretched life for one most happy? My soul, -wearied of so many troubles, doth long to be free, and to be in blessed -rest with Jesus Christ my Saviour. Yet you would fain have it still -tied to this miserable body, which is but its prison, not its domicile. -I do beseech you, therefore, my sisters, torment yourselves no more.” - -Many other the like words did she prefer, so pious and Christian as -that there is never a Divine, however great could have uttered better -or more blessed,—all which I do pass over. In especial she did often -ask to see Madame de Bourdeille, her mother, whom she had prayed her -sisters to send fetch, and kept saying to them: “Oh! sisters, is not -Madame de Bourdeille coming yet? Oh! how slow your couriers be! they be -really not fit to ride post and make special speed.” Her mother did at -last arrive, but never saw her alive, for she had died an hour before. - -She did ask earnestly too for me, whom she ever spake of as her dear -uncle, and did send us her last farewell. She did beg them to have her -body opened after death, a thing she had always strongly abhorred, to -the end, as she said to her sisters, that the cause of her death being -more evidently discovered, this should enable them and her daughter -the better to take precautions and so preserve their lives. “For I must -admit,” she said, “a suspicion that I was poisoned five years agone -along with mine uncle de Brantôme and my sister the Comtesse de Durtal; -but I did get the biggest piece. Yet would I willingly charge no one -with such a crime, for fear it should prove a false accusation and my -soul be weighted with the guilt thereof,—my soul which I do earnestly -desire may be free of all blame, rancour, ill-will and sinfulness, that -it may fly straight to God its Creator.” - -I should never have done, if I were to repeat all; for her discourse -was full and long, and such as did show no sign at all of an outwearied -body or a weak and failing spirit. As to this, there was a certain -gentleman, her neighbour, a witty talker and one she had loved to -converse and jest withal, who did present himself and to whom she said: -“Ha, ha! good friend! needs must give in this fall, tongue and sword -and all. So, fare you well!” - -Her physician and her sisters did wish her to take some cordial -medicine or other; but she begged them not to give it her, “for these -would merely,” she said, “be helping to prolong my pain and put off -my final rest.” So she did ask them to leave her alone; and was again -and again heard to say: “Dear God! how gentle sweet is death! who had -ever dreamed it could be so?” Then, little by little, yielding up her -spirit very softly, she did close her eyes, without making any of those -hideous and fearsome signs that death doth show in many at the supreme -moment. - -Madame de Bourdeille, her mother, was not long in following her. For -the melancholy she did conceive at the death of this her noble daughter -did carry her off in eighteen months, after a sickness lasting seven -months, at one time giving cause for good hope of recovery, at another -seeming desperate. But from the very first, herself did declare she -would never get the better of it, in no wise fearing death, and never -praying God to grant her life and health, but only patience in her -sufferings and above that He would send her a peaceful death, and one -neither painful nor long drawn out. And so it befell; for while we -deemed her only fainted, she did give up her soul so gently as that she -was never seen to move either foot or arm or limb, nor give any fearful -and hideous look; but casting a glance around with eyes that were as -fair as ever, she passed away, remaining as beautiful in death as she -had been when alive and in the plenitude of her charms. - -A sore pity, verily, of her and of all fair ladies that die so in the -bloom of their years! Only I do believe this, that Heaven, not content -with those fair lights which from the creation of the world do adorn -its vault, is fain, beside these, to have yet other new stars to still -illumine us, as erst they did when alive, with their beauteous eyes. - -Another example, and then an end: - -You have seen in these last days the case of Madame de Balagny,[52*] -true sister in all ways of the gallant Bussy. When Cambrai was -besieged, she did all ever she could, of her brave and noble heart, to -prevent its being taken; but after having in vain exhausted herself in -every sort of defensive means she could contrive, and seeing now ’twas -all over and the town already in the enemy’s power, and the citadel -soon to go the same road, unable to endure the smart and heart’s pang -of evacuating her Principality (for her husband and herself had gotten -themselves to be called Prince and Princess of Cambrai and Cambrésis,—a -title sundry nations did find odious and much too presumptuous, seeing -their rank was but that of plain gentlefolk), did die of grief and so -perished at the post of honour. Some say she did die by her own hand, -an act deemed however more Pagan than Christian. Be this as it may, she -deserveth but praise for her gallantry and bravery in all this, and for -the rebuke she did administer her husband at the time of her death, -when she thus said to him: “How can you endure, Balagny, to live on -after your most dismal fall of Fortune, to be a spectacle and laughing -stock to all the world, which will point the finger of scorn at you, -thus falling from great glory whereto you had been elevated to the low -place I see awaiting you, and if you follow not my example? Learn then -of me to die nobly, and not survive your misfortunes and disgrace.” -’Tis a grand thing thus to see a woman teaching us how to live,—and -how to die. Yet would he neither obey nor believe her; but at the end -of seven or eight months, quick forgetting the memory of this gallant -lady, he did re-wed with the sister of Madame de Monceaux,[53] no doubt -a fair and honourable damosel,—manifesting to all and sundry how that -to keep alive was his one thing needful, be it on what terms it may. - -Of a surety life is good and sweet; natheless is a noble death greatly -to be commended, such as was this lady’s, who dying as she did of -grief, doth appear of a contrary complexion to that of some women, -which are said to be of an opposite nature to men, for that they do die -of joy and in joy. - - - 10. -Of this sort of death I will allege only the instance of Mlle. de -Limueil, the elder, which did die at Court, being one of the Queen’s -maids of honour. All through her sickness, whereof she died, her tongue -did never leave off wagging, but she did talk continuously; for she -was a very great chatterbox, a sayer of very witty and telling scoffs, -and a very fine woman withal. When the hour of her death was come, she -did summon her chamber valet to her; for each maid of honour hath her -own. He was called Julian, and did play excellently on the violin. -“Julian,” saith she to him, “come take your violin and go on playing -me the _Défaite des Suisses_ (Switzers’ Rout)[54] till I be dead, and -play it as well as ever you can; and when you come to the words, _Tout -est perdu_ (“All is lost”), play the passage over four or five times as -pathetically as you may.” This the other did, while she joined in with -her voice; and when ’twas come to _Tout est perdue_, she did repeat it -over twice. Then turning to the other side of the bed, she cried to her -friends: “Yes! all is lost this bout, and for good and all,” and so -died. Truly a death we may call gay and pleasant! This tale I have of -two of her companions, persons of credit, who saw the mystery played -out. - -If then there be women which do die of joy and in joyous wise, no less -are men to be found which have done the like. Thus we read of that -great Pope, Leo X., how he did die of joy and delight, when he beheld -us Frenchmen driven out altogether from the State of Milan; so sore a -hate he bare us! - -The late Grand Prior, M. de Lorraine, did one time conceive the wish -to send a pair of his Galleys on an expedition to the Levant under the -command of Captain Beaulieu, one of his Lieutenants, of the which I -have spoke somewhat in another place. Beaulieu went readily enough, -being a brave and valiant sailor. When he was toward the Archipelago, -he did fall in with a great Venetian ship, well armed and well found, -which he set him to fire upon. But the ship did return his salute to -some purpose; for at the first volley she did carry clean away two of -his banks of oars, galley-slaves and all. Amongst other sore wounded -was his Lieutenant, a man named Captain Panier (“Basket”) and a good -fellow enough, which had time to cry out this word only before he died: -“Good-bye baskets all, the harvest is done,”—a merry and a pleasant -jest to enliven his death withal! The end was, M. de Beaulieu had to -retire, this big ship proving beyond his power to overcome. - -The first year King Charles IX. was King, at the time of the July edict -when he was yet residing in the Faubourg St. Germain, we did see the -hanging of a certain gallows-bird in that quarter, which had stolen six -silver goblets from the kitchen of the Prince de La Roche-sur-Yonne. -So soon as he was on the ladder, he did beg the hangman to grant -him a little space for a dying speech, and did take up his parable, -remonstrating with the folk and telling them he was unjustly put to -death, “for never,” said he, “have I practised my thievings on the -poor, on beggars and the vulgar herd, but only on Princes and great -Lords, which be greater thieves than we, and do rob us every day of -their lives; and ’tis a good deed to recover again of these folk what -they do rob and filch from us.” Much more diverting nonsense of -the sort he did utter, the which ’twere but wasted time to repeat. -Presently the priest which was with him at the top of the ladder, -turning to the people, as we see done, did call upon them: “Good sirs! -this poor criminal doth recommend himself to your prayers; we will say -all together for him and his soul’s peace a _Pater noster_ and an _Ave -Maria_, and will sing a _Salve_.” Then just as the folk were answering, -the said poor criminal did drop his head, and fixing his eyes on the -priest, did start bellowing like a calf, and making mock of the priest -in the most absurd fashion; then lending him a kick, did send him -flying from the top of the ladder to the bottom, so big a leap that -he brake a leg. “Ah, ha! Sir priest!” cried the fellow, “God’s truth, -I knew I should shift you. Well! you’ve got your gruel now, my fine -fellow.” Hearing him groan, he did set up a loud and hearty guffaw; -then this ended, did jump off the ladder of his own motion and set -himself a-swinging into space. I dare swear the Court did laugh merrily -at the trick, albeit the poor priest had done himself a serious hurt. A -death, in good sooth, that can scarce be called grave and melancholy! - -The late deceased M. d’Estampes had a fool called Colin, a very -diverting fellow. When his death was now nigh, his master did enquire -how Colin was doing. They told him, “But poorly, my Lord; he is going -to die, for he will take nothing.”—“Come now,” said M. d’Estampes, who -was at the moment at table, “take him this soup, and tell him, an if -he will not take somewhat for love of me, I will never love him more, -for they inform me he will take naught.” The message was delivered to -Colin, who, death already ’twixt the teeth of him, did make answer, -“And who be they which have told my Lord I would take naught?” Then -being surrounded by a countless cloud of flies (for ’twas summer time), -he began to hunt them with his hand, as we see pages and lackeys and -children do, a-trying to catch them; and having taken two with one -swoop, he cried, making a funny gesture more readily imagined than -described, “Go tell my Lord,” said he, “what I have taken for love of -him, and that now I’m away to the kingdom of the flies,” and so saying -and turning him round to the other side of the bed, the merry rascal -did expire. - -As to this, I have heard sundry philosophers declare that folk do very -often at the moment of death remember them of those things they have -the most loved in life, and tell of these; so gentlemen, soldiers, -sportsmen, artisans, all in fact, very near, according to their former -occupation, do say some word thereof when a-dying. This is a fact often -noted no less in past time than at the present day. - -Women in like wise do often out with a similar rigmarole,—whores just -as much as honest dames. So have I heard speak of a certain lady, of -very good quality too, which on her death-bed did exult to spit out -all about her divers intrigues, naughtinesses and past pleasures, -to such purpose that she told more thereof than ever folk had known -before, albeit she had always been suspected as a desperate wanton. -This revelation she may have made, either in a dream possibly, or else -because truth, that can never be hid, did constrain her thereto, or -mayhap because she was fain so to discharge her conscience. Anyhow, she -did actually, with clear conscience and true repentance, confess and -ask forgiveness for her sins, detailing them each and all, dotting -i’s and crossing t’s, till all was as clear as day. Verily, a curious -thing, she should have found leisure at that supreme hour so to be -sweeping her conscience clean of such a muckheap of scandal,—and with -such careful particularity. - -Another good lady I have heard of which was so apt to dream every -night, as that she would tell out by night everything she did by day, -in such wise that she did bring sore suspicion of herself on her -husband’s part, who did presently set himself to listen to her talking -and prattling and pay heed to her dreams, whereby an ill fate did later -on befall her. - -’Tis no long while since a gentleman of the great world, belonging -to a province I will not name, did the same thing on his death-bed, -publishing abroad his loves and lecheries, and specifying the ladies, -wives and maids, which he had had to do with, and in what places, and -how and under what circumstances. All this he did confess loud out, -asking God’s pardon therefor before everybody. This last did worse -than the woman just mentioned, for whereas she did bring disrepute on -herself only, he did blacken several fair ladies’ good name. A fine -pair of gallants truly! - -’Tis said that misers, both male and female, have likewise this trick -of thinking much, in the hour of death, on their hoard of crowns, -forever talking of the same. Some forty years agone there was a certain -lady of Mortemar,[55*] one of the richest ladies in all Poitou and one -of the most moneyed, which afterward when she came to die had never a -thought for aught but her crowns that were in her closet. All the time -of her sickness, she would rise from her bed twenty times a day to go -visit her treasure. At the last, when she was now very nigh her end -and the priest was exhorting her to think of the life eternal, she -would make no other reply nor say any other word but only this: “Give -me my gown; the villains are robbing me.” Her one thought was to rise -and visit her strong-room, as she did sore strive to do, but the effort -was beyond the poor lady. And so she died. - -I have let myself toward the end wander a little away from the first -intention of my present Discourse; but we should bear in mind that -after preaching and tragedy, farce ever cometh next. With this word, I -make an end. - - - - - [Illustration: Decorative scrollwork above chapter start] - - - - - SIXTH DISCOURSE[56*] - - Of how we should never speak ill of ladies, and of - the consequences of so doing. - - - 1. - -One point there is to be noted in these fair and honourable dames -which do indulge in love, to wit that whatsoever freedom they do allow -themselves, they will never willingly suffer offence or scandal to -be said of them by others, and if any do say ill of them, they know -very well how to avenge the affront sooner or later. In a word, they -be ready enough to do the thing, but unwilling it should be spoken -about. And in very sooth ’tis not well done to bring ill repute on an -honourable lady, nor to divulge on her; for indeed what have a number -of other folks to do with it, an if they _do_ please their senses and -their lovers’ to boot? - -The Courts of our French Kings, and amongst others, those of later -years in especial, have been greatly given to blazon abroad the faults -of these worthy dames; and I have known the days when was never a -gallant about the Palace but did discover some falsehood to tell -against the ladies, or at least find some true though scandalous tale -to repeat. All this is very blameworthy; for a man ought never to -offend the honour of fair ladies, and least of all great ladies. And I -do say this as well to such as do reap enjoyment of ladies’ favour, as -to them which cannot taste the venison, and for this cause do decry the -same. - -The Courts of our later Kings have, I repeat it, been overmuch given to -this scandal-mongering and tale-bearing,—herein differing widely from -those of earlier Sovereigns, their predecessors, alway excepting that -of Louis XI., that seasoned reprobate. Of him ’tis said that most times -he would eat at a common table, in open Hall, with many gentlemen of -his privy household and others withal; and whoever could tell him the -best and most lecherous story of light women and their doings, this man -was best welcomed and made most of. Himself, too, showed no scruple to -do the like, for he was exceeding inquisitive and loved to be informed -of all secrets; then having found these out, he would often divulge the -same to companions, and that publicly.[57] This was indeed a very grave -scandal. He had a most ill opinion of women, and an entire disbelief -in their chastity. After inviting the King of England to Paris on a -visit of good fellowship, and being taken at his word by that Prince, -he did straight repent him, and invented an _alibi_ to break off the -engagement. “Holy Christ!” he said on this occasion, “I don’t want him -coming here. He would certainly find some little smart, dainty minx, -that he would fall over head and ears in love with, who would tempt him -to stay longer and come oftener than I should at all like.” - -Natheless of his wife[57] he had a very high opinion, who was a very -modest and virtuous lady; and truly she had need be so, for else, -being a distrustful and suspicious Prince if ever there was one, he -would very soon have treated her like the rest. And when he died, -he did charge his son to love and honour his mother well, but not -to be ruled of her,—“not that she was not both wise and chaste,” he -declared, “but that she was more Burgundian than French.”[58*] And -indeed he did never really love her but to have an heir of her; and -when he had gotten this, he made scarce any account of her more. He -kept her at the Castle of Amboise like a plain Gentlewoman in very -scanty state and as ill-dressed as any young country girl. There he -would leave her with few attendants to say her prayers, while himself -was away travelling and taking his pleasure elsewhere. I leave you to -imagine, such being the opinion the King held of women, and such his -delight in speaking ill of them, how they were maltreated by every -evil tongue at Court. Not that he did otherwise wish them ill for so -taking their pleasure, nor that he desired to stop their amusements -at all, as I have seen some fain to do; but his chiefest joy was to -gird at them, the effect being that these poor ladies, weighed down -under such a load of detraction, were often hindered from kicking of -their heels so freely as they would else have liked to do. Yet did -harlotry much prevail in his day; for the King himself did greatly help -to establish and keep up the same with the gentlemen of his Court. -Then was the only question, who could make the merriest mock thereat, -whether in public or in privity, and who could tell the merriest tales -of the ladies’ wantonings and _wriggles_ (this was his phrase) and -general naughtiness. True it is the names of great ladies were left -unmentioned, such being censured only by guess-work and appearances; -and I ween they had a better time than some I have seen in the days -of the late King, which did torment and chide and bully them most -strangely. Such is the account I have heard of that good monarch, Louis -XI., from divers old stagers. - -At any rate his son, King Charles VIII., which did succeed him, was -not of this complexion; for ’tis reported of him now that he was the -most reticent and fair-speaking monarch was even seen, and did never -offend man or woman by the very smallest ill word.[59] I leave you -then to think of the fair ladies of his reign, and all merry lovers of -the sex, did not have good times in those days. And indeed he did love -them right well and faithfully,—in fact too well; for returning back -from his Naples expedition triumphant and victorious, he did find such -excessive diversion in loving and fondling the same, and pleasuring -them with so many delights at Lyons, in the way of tournaments and -tourneys which he did hold for love of them, that clean forgetting his -partisans which he had left in that Kingdom, he did leave these to -perish,—and towns and kingdom and castles to boot, which yet held out, -and were stretching forth hands of supplication to him to send them -succour. ’Tis said moreover that overmuch devotion to the ladies was -the cause of his death, for by reason of a too reckless abandonment -to these pleasures, he did, being of a very weakly frame of body, so -enervate and undermine his health as that this behaviour did no little -contribute to his death. - -Our good King Louis XII. was very respectful toward the ladies; for as -I have said in another place, he would ever pardon all stage-players, -as well as scholars and clerks of the Palace in their guilds, no matter -who they did make free to speak of, excepting the Queen his wife, and -her ladies and damosels,—albeit he was a merry gallant in his day and -did love fair women as well as other folk. Herein he did take after -his grand-father, Duke Louis of Orleans,—though not in this latter’s -ill tongue and inordinate conceit and boastfulness. And truly this -defect did cost him his life, for one day having boasted loud out at -a banquet whereat Duke John of Burgundy, his cousin, was present, how -that he had in his private closet portraits of all the fairest ladies -he had enjoyed, as chance would have it, Duke John himself did enter -this same closet. The very first lady whose picture he beheld there, -and the first sight that met his eyes, was his own most noble lady -wife, which was at that day held in high esteem for her beauty. She was -called Marguerite, daughter of Albert of Bavaria, Count of Hainault -and Zealand. Who was amazed then? who but the worthy husband? Fancy -him muttering low down to himself, “Ha, ha! I see it all!” However, -making no outcry about the flea that really bit him, he did hide it -all, though hatching vengeance, be sure, for a later day, and so picked -a quarrel with him as to his regency and administration of the Kingdom. -Thus putting off his grievance on this cause and not on any matter of -his wife at all, he had the Duke assassinated at the Porte Barbette of -Paris. Then presently his first wife being now dead (we may suspect -by poison), and right soon after, he did wed in the second place the -daughter of Louis, third Duke of Bourbon. Mayhap this bargain was no -better than his first; for truly with folks which be meet for horns, -change bed-chamber and quarters as they may, they will ever encounter -the same. - -The Duke in this matter did very wisely, so to avenge him of his -adultery without setting tongues a-wagging of his concerns or his -wife’s, and ’twas a judicious piece of dissimulation on his part. -Indeed I have heard a very great nobleman and soldier say, how that -there be three things a wise man ought never to make public, an if he -be wronged therein. Rather should he hold his tongue on the matter, -or better still invent some other pretext to fight upon and get his -revenge,—unless that is the thing was so clear and manifest, and so -public to many persons, as that he could not possibly put off his -action onto any other motive but the true one. - -The first is, when ’tis brought up against a man that he is cuckold and -his wife unfaithful; another, when he is taxed with buggery and sodomy; -the third, when ’tis stated of him that he is a coward, and that he -hath basely run away from a fight or a battle. All three charges be -most shameful, when a man’s name is mentioned in connection therewith; -so he doth fight the accusation, and will sometimes suppose he can well -clear himself and prove his name to have been falsely smirched. But the -matter being thus made public, doth cause only the greater scandal; -and the more ’tis stirred, the more doth it stink, exactly as vile -stench waxeth worse, the more it is disturbed. And this is why ’tis -always best, if a man can with honour, to hold his tongue, and contrive -and invent some new motive to account for his punishment of the old -offence; for such like grievances should ever be ignored so far as may -be, and never brought into court, or made subjects of discussion or -contention. Many examples could I bring of this truth; but ’twould be -over irksome to me, and would unduly lengthen out my Discourse. - -So we see Duke John was very wise and prudent thus to dissimulate and -hide his horns, and on quite other grounds take his revenge on his -cousin, which had shamed him. Else had he been made mock of, and his -name blazoned abroad. No doubt dread of such mockery and scandal did -touch him as nigh at heart as ever his ambition, and made him act like -the wise and experienced man of the world he was. - -Now, however, to return from the digression which hath delayed me, -our King Francis I., who was a good lover of fair ladies, and that in -spite of the opinion he did express, as I have said elsewhere, how that -they were fickle and inconstant creatures, would never have the same -ill spoke of at his Court, and was always most anxious they should be -held in all high respect and honour.[60*] I have heard it related how -that one time, when he was spending his Lent at Meudon near Paris, -there was one of the gentlemen in his service there named the Sieur -de Brizambourg, of Saintogne. As this gentleman was serving the King -with meat, he having a dispensation to eat thereof, his master bade him -carry the rest, as we see sometimes done at Court, to the ladies of the -privy company, whose names I had rather not give, for fear of offence. -The gentleman in question did take upon him to say, among his comrades -and others of the Court, how that these ladies not content with eating -of raw meat in Lent, were now eating cooked as well,—and their belly -full. The ladies hearing of it, did promptly make complaint to the -King, which thereupon was filled with so great an anger, as that he did -instantly command the archers of the Palace guard to take the man and -hang him out of hand. By lucky chance the poor gentleman had wind of -what was a-foot from one of his friends, and so fled and escaped in the -nick of time. But an if he had been caught, he would most certainly -have been hanged, albeit he was a man of good quality, so sore was the -King seen to be wroth that time, and little like to go back on his -word. I have this anecdote of a person of honour and credibility which -was present; and at the time the King did say right out, that any man -which should offend the honour of ladies, the same should be hanged -without benefit of clergy. - -A little while before, Pope Farnese[61*] being come to Nice, and the -King paying him his respects in state with all his Court and Lords and -Ladies, there were some of these last, and not the least fair of the -company, which did go to the Pope for to kiss his slipper. Whereupon a -gentleman did take on him to say they had gone to beg his Holiness for -a dispensation to taste of raw flesh without sin or shame, whenever -and as much as ever they might desire. The King got to know thereof; -and well it was for the gentleman he did fly smartly, else had he been -hanged, as well for the veneration due to the Pope as for the respect -proper to fair ladies. - - - 2. - -These gentlemen were not so happy in their speeches and interviews as -was once the late deceased M. d’Albanie. The time when Pope Clement -did visit Marseilles to celebrate the marriage of his niece with M. -d’Orleans, there were three widow ladies, of fair face and honourable -birth, which by reason of the pains, vexations and griefs they suffered -from the absence of their late husbands and of those pleasures that -were no more, had come so low, and grown so thin, weak and sickly, as -that they did beseech M. d’Albanie, their kinsman, who did possess -a good share of the Pope’s favour, to ask of him dispensation for -the three of them to eat meat on prohibited days. This the said Duke -did promise them to do, and to that end did one day bring them on a -friendly footing to the Pope’s lodging. Meantime he had warned the -King of what was a-foot, telling him he would afford him some sport. -So having put him up to the game, and the three ladies being on their -knees before his Holiness, M. d’Albanie took the word first, saying -in a low tone and in Italian, so that the ladies did not catch his -words: “Holy Father, see here before you three widow ladies, fair to -look on and very well born. These same for the respect they bear toward -their dead husbands and the love they have for the children they have -borne to these, will not for aught in all the world marry again and so -wrong their husbands and children. But whereas they be sometimes sore -tempted by the pricks of the flesh, they do therefore humbly beseech -your Holiness for leave to go with men without marriage, whenever -and wherever they shall find them under the said temptation.”—“What -say you, cousin?” cried the Pope. “Why! ’twould be against God’s own -commandments, wherefrom I can give no dispensation.” “Well! the ladies -are here before you, Holy Father, and if it please you to hear them -say their say.” At this one of the three, taking the word, said: “Holy -Father! we have besought M. d’Albanie to make you our very humble -petition for us three poor women, and to represent to your Holiness our -frailty and our weakly complexion.”—“Nay! my daughters,” replied the -Pope, “but your petition is in no wise reasonable, for the thing would -be clean against God’s commandments.” Then the widows, still quite -ignorant of what M. d’Albanie had told the Pope, made answer: “At the -least, Holy Father, may it please you give us leave three times a week, -without scandal to our name.”—“What!” exclaimed the Pope, “give you -leave to commit _il peccato di lussuria_ (the sin of lasciviousness?). -I should damn mine own soul; I cannot do it!” Hereupon the three -ladies, perceiving at last ’twas a case of scampishness and knavery, -and that M. d’Albanie had played a trick on them, declared, “’Tis not -of that we speak, Holy Father; we but ask permission to eat meat on -prohibited days.”—Hearing these words, the Duc d’Albanie told them, -“Nay! I thought ’twas live flesh you meant, ladies!” The Pope was quick -to understand the knavery put on them, and said with a dawning smile, -“You have put these noble ladies to the blush, my cousin; the Queen -will be angered when she doth hear of it.” The Queen did hear of it -anon, but made no ado, and found the tale diverting. The King likewise -did afterward make good mirth thereof with the Pope; while the Holy -Father himself, after giving them his benediction, did grant them the -dispensation they craved, and dismissed them well content. - -I have been given the names of the three ladies concerned, namely: -Madame de Chasteau-Briant or Madame de Canaples, Madame de Chastillon -and the Baillive de Caen, all three very honourable ladies. I have the -tale from sundry old frequenters of the Court. - -Madame d’Uzès[62] did yet better, at the time when Pope Paul III. came -to Nice to visit King Francis. She was then Madame du Bellay, and a -lady which hath from her youth up always had merry ways and spake many -a witty word. One day, prostrating herself at his Holiness’ feet, -she did make three supplications to him: first, that he grant her -absolution, for that when yet a little maid, in waiting on the Queen -Regent’s majesty, and called by the name of Tallard, she did lose her -scissors while sewing of her seam, and did make a vow to St. Allivergot -to perform the same, an if she found them. This she presently did, yet -did never accomplish her vow, not knowing where the said Saint’s body -lay. The second petition was that he give her pardon forasmuch as, when -Pope Clement came to Marseilles, she being still Mlle. Tallard, she -did take one of the pillows of his Holiness’ bed, and did wipe herself -therewith in front and in rear, on the which his Holiness did afterward -rest his noble head and face. The third was this, that the Sieur de -Tays, because she did love the same, but he loved not her, and the man -is accursed and should be excommunicated which loveth not again, if he -be loved. - -The Pope at first was sore astonished at these requests, but having -enquired of the King who she was, did learn her witty ways, and laughed -heartily over the matter with the King. Yet from that day forth all she -did was found admirable, so good a grace did she display in all her -ways and words. - -Now never suppose this same great monarch was so strict and stern in -his respect for ladies, as that he did not relish well enough any good -stories told him concerning them, without however any scandal-mongering -or decrying of their good name. Rather like the great and highly -privileged King he was, he would not that every man, and all the vulgar -herd, should enjoy like privileges with himself. - -I have heard sundry relate how he was ever most anxious that the noble -gentlemen of his Court should never be without mistresses. If they -won none such, he did deem them simpletons and empty fools; while many -a time he would ask one Courtier or another the name of the lady of -his choice, and promise to do them good service in that quarter, and -speak well of their merits. So good-natured a Prince was he and an -affable. Oftentimes too, when he did observe his gentlemen full of free -discourse with their mistresses, he would come up and accost them, -asking what merry and gallant words they were exchanging with their -ladies, and if he found the same not to his liking, correcting them -and teaching them better. With his most intimate friends, he was no -wise shy or sparing to tell his stories and share his good things with -them. One diverting tale I have heard him tell, which did happen to -himself, and which he did later on repeat. This was of a certain young -and pretty lady new come to Court, the which being little skilled in -the ways of the world, did very readily yield to the persuasions of the -great folks, and in especial those of the said monarch himself. One day -when he was fain to erect his noble standard and plant the same in her -fort, she having heard it said, and indeed begun to note that when one -gave a thing to the King, or took aught from him and touched it, the -person must first kiss the hand for to take and touch it withal, did -herself without more ado fulfil the obligation and first very humbly -kissing her hand did seize the King’s standard and plant it in the fort -with all due humbleness. Then did she ask him in cold blood, how he -did prefer her to love him, as a respectable and modest lady, or as a -wanton. No doubt he did ask her for the latter, for herein was she more -able to show herself more agreeable than as a modest woman. And indeed -he soon found out she had by no means wasted her time, both after the -event and before it, and all. When all was done, she would drop him -a deep curtsy, thanking him respectfully for the honour he had done -her, whereof she was all unworthy, often suggesting to him at the same -time some promotion for her husband. I have heard the lady’s name, one -which hath since grown much less simple than at first she was, and is -nowadays cunning and experienced enough. The King made no ado about -repeating the tale, which did reach the ears of not a few folks. - -This monarch was exceeding curious to hear of the love of both men and -women, and above all their amorous engagements, and in especial what -fine airs the ladies did exhibit when at their gentle work, and what -looks and attitudes they did display therein, and what words they said. -On hearing all this, he would laugh frank and free, but after would -forbid all publishing abroad thereof and any scandal making, always -strongly recommending an honourable secrecy on these matters. - -He had for his good follower herein that great, most magnificent -and most generous nobleman, the Cardinal de Lorraine. Most generous -I may well call him, for he had not his like in his day; his free -expenditure, his many gracious gifts and kindnesses, did all bear -witness thereof, and above all else his charity toward the poor. He -would regularly bear with him a great game-bag, the which his valet -of the bed-chamber, who did govern his petty cash, never failed to -replenish, every morning, with three or four hundred crowns. And as -many poor folk as he met, he would plunge his hand in the game-bag, -and whatsoever he drew out therefrom, without a moment’s thought, he -gave away, and without any picking or choosing. ’Twas of him a poor -blind man, as the Cardinal was passing in the streets of Rome and was -asked for an alms, and so did throw him according to wont a great -handful of gold, said thus, crying out aloud in the Italian tongue: _O -tu sei Christo, o veramente el cardinal di Lorrena_,—“Either you are -Christ, or the Cardinal de Lorraine.” Moreover if he was generous and -charitable in this way, he was no less liberal toward other folks as -well, and chiefly where fair ladies were concerned, whom he did easily -attach to him by this regale. For money was not so greatly abundant -in those days as it hath nowadays become, and for this cause women -were more eager after the same, and every sort of merry living and gay -attire. - -I have heard it said that ever on the arrival at Court of any fair -damsel or young wife that was handsome and attractive, he would come -instantly to greet the same, and discoursing with her would presently -offer to undertake the training of her. A pretty trainer for sooth! -I ween the task was not so irksome an one as to train and break some -wild colt. Accordingly ’twas said at that time, was scarce dame or -damsel resident at Court or newly come thither, but was caught and -debauched by dint of her own avariciousness and the largesse of the -aforesaid Cardinal; and few or none have come forth of that Court women -of chastity and virtue. Thus might their chests and big wardrobes be -seen for that time more full of gowns and petticoats, of cloth of gold -and silver and of silk, than be nowadays those of our Queens and great -Princesses of the present time. I know this well, having seen the thing -with mine own eyes in two or three instances,—fair ladies which had -gotten all this gear by their dainty body; for neither father, mother -nor husband could have given them the same in anything like such wealth -and abundance. - -Nay! but I should have refrained me, some will say, from stating so -much of the great Cardinal, in view of his honoured cloth and most -reverend and high estate. Well! his King would have it so, and did find -pleasure therein; and pleasure one’s Sovereign, a man is dispensed of -all scruple, whether in making love or other matters, provided always -they be not dishonourable. Accordingly he did make no ado about going -to the wars, and hunting and dancing, taking part in mascarades, and -the like sports and pastimes. Moreover he was a man of like flesh -and blood with other folk, and did possess many great merits and -perfections of his own, enough surely to outweigh and cloak this small -fault,—if fault it is to be called, to love fair ladies! - -I have heard the following tale told of him in connection with the -proper respect due to ladies. He was naturally most courteous toward -them; yet did he once forget his usual practice, and not without -reason enough, with the Duchess of Savoy, Donna Beatrix of Portugal. -Travelling on one occasion through Piedmont, on his way to Rome on his -Royal master’s service, he did visit the Duke and Duchess. After having -conversed a sufficient while with the Duke, he went to find the noble -Duchess in her chamber for to pay his respects to her; arrived there -and on his coming forward toward her, her Grace, who was haughtiness -itself, if ever was such in the world, did offer him her hand to kiss. -The Cardinal, loath to put up with this affront, did press forward to -kiss her on the mouth, while she did draw back all she could. Then -losing all patience and crowding up yet nearer to her, he takes her -fairly by the head, and in spite of her struggles did kiss her two or -three times over. And albeit she did protest sore with many cries and -exclamations both in Portuguese and Spanish, yet had she to endure this -treatment. “What!” the Cardinal cried out; “is it to me this sort of -state and ceremony is to be used? I do kiss right enough the Queen of -France my Mistress, which is the greatest Queen in all the world, and -I am not to kiss you, a dirty little slip of a duchess! I would have -you to know I have bedded with ladies as fair as you, and as good to -boot, and of better birth than ever you be.” And mayhap he spoke but -the truth. Anyway the Princess was ill-advised to make this show of -haughtiness toward a Prince of so high an house, and above all towards -a Cardinal; for there is never one of this exalted rank in the Church, -but doth liken himself with the greatest Princes of Christendom. The -Cardinal too was in the wrong to take so harsh reprisals; but ’tis ever -very irksome to a noble and generous spirit, of whatever estate and -calling, to put up with an affront. - -Another of the same rank, the Cardinal de Granvelle, did likewise well -know how to make the Comte d’Egmont feel his displeasure on the same -account, and others too whose names be at the tip of my pen, but whom -I will pass over for fear of confusing my subject overmuch, though I -may return again to them later. I do now confine myself to our late -King Henri le Grand, which monarch was exceeding respectful to the -ladies, whom he was used to treat with all reverence, and did alway -hate gainsayers of their honour. And when so great King doth so serve -fair ladies, a monarch of such puissance and repute, very loath for -sure be all men of his Court to open mouth for to speak ill of the -same. Beside, the Queen mother did exert a strong hand to guard her -ladies and damsels, and make calumniators and satirists feel the weight -of her resentment, when once they were found out, seeing how she had -been as little spared by such as any of her ladies. Yet ’twas never -herself she did take heed for so much as others, seeing, she was used -to declare, how she did know her soul and conscience pure and void of -offence, and could afford to laugh at these foul-mouthed writers and -scandal-mongers. “Why! let them say their worst,” she would say, “and -have their trouble for nothing”; yet whenever she did catch them at it, -she knew how to make them smart soundly. - -It befell the elder Mlle. de Limeuil, at her first coming to Court, -to compose a satire or lampoon (for she had the gift of witty speech -and writing) on the Court generally, not however so much scandalous in -its matter as diverting in form. Be assured the King’s mother did make -her pay for this well and feel the whip smartly, as well as two of her -comrades which were in the secret to her majesty, through the house -of Turenne, which is allied to that of Boulogne, she would have been -chastised with every ignominy, and this by express order of the King, -who had the most particular and curious dislike of such writings. - -I do remember me of an incident connected with the Sieur de Matha,[63*] -a brave and gallant gentleman much loved of the King, and a kinsman -of Madame de Valentinois, which did ever have some diverting quarrel -and complaint against the damsels and dames of the Court, of so merry -a complexion was he. One day having attacked one of the Queen’s maids -of honour, another, known by the name of “big Méray,” was for taking -up the cudgels for her companion. The only reply Matha did vouchsafe -her was this: “Go to! I’m not attacking you, Méray; you’re a great -war-horse, and should be barded!”[64] For insooth she was the very -biggest woman, maid or wife, I have ever seen. She did make complaint -of the speech to the Queen, saying the other had called her a mare and -a great war-horse to be barded. The Queen was so sore angered that -Matha had to quit the Court for some days, spite of all the favour he -had with his kinswoman Madame de Valentinois; and for a month after his -return durst not set foot in the apartment of the Queen and her maids -of honour. - -The Sieur de Gersay did a much worse thing toward one of the Queen’s -maids of honour, to whom he was ill-disposed, for to avenge him upon -her, albeit he was never at a loss for ready words; for indeed he -was as good as most at saying a witty thing or telling a good story, -and above all when spreading a scandal, of which art and mystery he -was a past master; only scandal-mongering was at that time strongly -forbidden. One day when he was present at the after dinner assembly -of the Queen along with the other ladies and gentlemen of her Court, -the custom then being that the company should not sit except on the -floor when the Queen was present, de Gersay having taken from the pages -and lackeys a ram’s pizzle they were playing with in the Office Court -of the Palace, sitting down beside her he did slip the same into the -girl’s frock, and this so softly as that she did never notice it,—that -is not until the Queen did proceed to rise from her chair to retire -to her private apartment. The girl, whose name I had better not give, -did straight spring up, and as she rose to her feet, right in front -of the Queen, doth give so lusty a push to the strange plaything she -had about her, as that it did make six or seven good bounces along -the floor, for all the world as though it were fain of its own accord -to give the company a free exhibition and some gratuitous sport. Who -more astonished than the poor girl,—and the Queen to boot, for ’twas -well in front of her with naught to prevent her view? “Mother of God!” -cried the Queen, “and what is that, my child; what would you be at with -that thing?” The unhappy maid of honour, blushing and half fainting -with confusion, began to cry out she knew not what it was, that some -one who did wish her ill had played this horrid trick on her, and how -she thought ’twas none other but de Gersay which had done it. The -latter waiting only to see the beginning of the sport and the first -few bounces, was through the door by now. They sent to call him back, -but he would never come, perceiving the Queen to be so very wroth, yet -stoutly denying the whole thing all the while. So he was constrained -for some days to fly her resentment, and the King’s too; and indeed -had he not been, along with Fontaine-Guérin,[65*] one of the Dauphin’s -prime favourites, he would assuredly have been in sore straits, albeit -naught could ever be proven against him except by guess-work, and -notwithstanding the fact that the King and his courtiers and not a few -ladies could not refrain them from laughing at the incident, though -they durst not show their amusement in view of the Queen’s displeasure. -For was never a lady in all the world knew better than she how to -startle folk with a sudden and sore rebuke. - -A certain honourable gentleman of the Court and a maid of honour did -one time, from the good affection they erst had with one another, fall -into hate and sore quarrel; this went so far that one day the young -lady said loud out to him in the Queen’s apartment, the twain being -in talk as to their difference: “Leave me alone, Sir, else I will -tell what you told me.” The gentleman, who had informed her in strict -confidence of something about a very great lady, and fearing ill would -befall him from it, and at the least he would be banished the Court, -without more ado did answer back,—for he was ready enough of speech: -“If you do tell what I have told you, I will tell what I have done to -you.” Who more astonished than the lady at this? yet did she contrive -to reply: “Why! what have you done to me?” The other did reply: “Why! -what have I told you?” Thereupon doth the lady make answer: “Oh! I know -very well what you told me.” To which the other: “Oh! and I know very -well what I did to you.” The lady doth retort, “But I’ll prove quite -clearly what you told me;” and the other: “And I’ll prove clearer still -what I did to you.” At long last, after sticking a long while at this -counterchange of reply and retort in identical form and almost the same -words, they were parted by the gentlemen and ladies there present, -albeit these got much diversion from the dispute. - -This disputation having come to the Queen’s ears, the latter was in -great wrath thereanent, and was fain at once to know the words of the -one and the deeds of the other, and did send to summon them. But the -pair of them, seeing ’twas to be made a serious matter, did consult -and straight agree together to say, whenas they did appear before the -Queen, how that ’twas merely a game their so disputing with each other, -and that neither had she been told aught by the gentleman, nor yet -had he done aught to her. So did they balk the Queen, which did none -the less chide and sore blame the courtier, on the ground that his -words were over free and like to make scandal. The man sware to me -twenty times over that, and if they had not so made it up and agreed -in a tale, and the lady had actually revealed the secret he had told -her, which might well have turned to his great injury, he would have -resolutely maintained he had done his will on her, challenging them -to examine her, and if she should not be found virgin, that ’twas -himself had deflowered her. “Well and good!” I answered, “but an if -they had examined her and found her a maid, for she was quite young and -unmarried, you would have been undone, and ’twould have gone hard but -you had lost your life.”—“Body of me!” he did return, “that’s just what -I should have liked the best, that they should have examined the jade. -I was well assured of my tale, for I knew quite well who had deflowered -her, and that another man had been there right enough, though not -I,—to my much regret. So being found already touched and soiled, she -had been undone, and I avenged, and her good name ruined to boot. I -should have got off with marrying her, and afterward ridding me of her, -as I could.” And these be the risks poor maids and wives have to run, -whether they be in the right o’t or the wrong! - - - 3. - -I did one time know a lady of very high rank which did actually find -herself pregnant by the act of a very brave and gallant Prince;[66] -’twas said however the thing was done under promise of marriage, -though later the contrary was ascertained to be the case. King Henri -was the first to learn the facts, and was sore vexed thereat, for she -was remotely connected with his Majesty. Any way, without making any -further noise or scandal about the matter, he did the same evening at -the Royal ball, chose her as his partner and lead her out to dance the -torch-dance[66] with him; and afterward did make her dance with another -the _galliard_ and the rest of the “brawls,” wherein she did display -her readiness and dexterity better than ever, while her figure had all -its old grace and was so well arranged for the occasion as that she -gave no sign of her bigness. The end was that the King, who had kept -his eyes fixed on her very strictly all the time, did perceive naught, -no more than if she had not been with child at all, and did presently -observe to a great nobleman, one of his chief familiars: “The folk -were most ill-advised and spiteful to have gone about to invent the -tale that yonder poor girl was big with child; never have I seen her -in better grace. The spiteful authors of the calumny have told a most -wicked falsehood.” Thus this good King did shield the noble lady and -poor girl, and did repeat the same thing to his Queen whenas he was to -bed with her that night. But the latter, mistrusting the thing, did -have her examined the next morning, herself being present, and she was -found to be six months gone in pregnancy; after she did confess and -avow the whole truth to the Queen, saying ’twas done under pretence of -marriage to follow. Natheless the King, who was all good nature, had -the secret kept as close as ever possible, so as not to bring shame and -scandal on the damsel, though the Queen for her part was very wrathful. -Any way, they did send her off very quietly to the home of her nearest -kinsfolk, where she was presently brought to bed of a fine boy. Yet was -the lad so unfortunate that he could never get him recognized by his -putative father; the trial of the case did drag out to great length, -but the mother could never get aught decided in her favour. - -Now good King Henri did love merry tales as well as any of his -predecessors, but he would never have scandal brought on ladies therein -nor their secrets divulged. In fact, the King himself, who was of -amorous complexion enough, when he was away to visit the ladies, would -ever go thither stealthily and under cover all ever he could, to the -end they might be free of suspicion and ill-repute. But an if there was -any that was discovered, ’twas never by his fault or with his consent, -but rather by the fair dame’s doing. So have I heard of one lady of the -sort, of a good house, named Madame Flamin,[67*] a Scotswoman, which -being gotten with child by the King, did make no sort of secret of it, -but would say it out boldly in her French Scotch thus: “I hae dune what -I could, sae that the noo, God be thankit, I am wi’ bairn by the King, -whilk doth mak me an honoured and unco happy woman. And I maun say the -blude Royal hath in it something of a more douce and tasty humour than -the ordinar, I do find myself in sic gude case,—no to speak of the fine -bits o’ presents forthcoming.” - -Her son,[68*] that she had presently, was the late Grand Prior of -France, who was killed lately at Marseilles,—a sore pity, for he was -a very honourable, brave and gallant nobleman, and did show the same -clearly at his death. Moreover he was a man of property and sense, and -the least tyrannical Governor of a District of his own day or since. -Provence could tell us that, and beside that he was a right magnificent -Seigneur and of a generous expenditure. He was indeed a man of means, -good sense and wise moderation. - -The said lady, with others I have heard of, held the opinion that to -lie with one’s Sovereign was no disgrace; those be harlots indeed which -do abandon their bodies to petty folk, but not where great Kings and -gallant gentlemen be in question. Like that Queen of the Amazons I have -named above, which came a journey of three hundred leagues for to be -gotten with child by Alexander the Great, to have good issue therefrom. -Yet there be those who say one man is as good as another for this! - -After King Henri came Francis II., whose reign however was so short as -that spiteful folks had no time even to begin speaking ill of ladies. -Not that we are to believe, if he had enjoyed a long reign, that he -would have suffered aught of the kind at his Court; for he was a -monarch naturally good-natured, frank, and not one to take pleasure -in scandal, as well as being most respectful toward ladies and very -ready to pay them all honour. Beside he had the Queen his wife and the -Queen his mother, and his good uncles to boot, all of which were much -for checking these chatterers and loose-tongued gentry. I remember me -how once, the King being at Saint-Germain en Laye, about the month of -August or September, the fancy took him one evening to go see the -stags in their rut in that noble forest of Saint-Germain, and he did -take with him certain princes, his chief familiars, and some great -ladies, both wives and maids, whose names I could very well give, an if -I chose. Nor was there lacking one fain to make a talk of it, and say -this did not smack of his womankind being exactly virtuous or chaste, -to be going to see these lovemakings and wanton ruttings of beasts, -seeing how the appetite of Venus must heat them more and more at sight -of such doings. In fact, so sore will they be longing to taste, that -sure the water or saliva will be coming to their mouth, in such wise -that no other remedy will there be thereafter for to get rid of the -same except only by some other discharge of saliva, or something else. -The King heard of this speech, and the noblemen and ladies which had -accompanied him thither. Be well assured, an if the gentleman had not -straightway decamped, he had fared very ill; nor did he ever again -appear at Court till after that King’s death and the end of his reign. -Many scandalous pamphlets there were put forth against them which -were then in direction of the Government of the Kingdom; but there -was never an one that did so hurt and offend as a satire entitled -_The Tiger_[69]—modelled on the first invective of Cicero against -Catiline,—especially as it spake freely of the amours of a very great -and fair lady, and a great nobleman, her kinsman. An if the gallant -author had been caught, though he had had an hundred thousand lives, -he had surely lost them every one; for the two great folks, lady and -gentleman, were so exceeding vexed and angered as that they did all but -die of despair. - -This King Francis II. was not subject to love like his predecessors; -and truly he would have been greatly to blame, seeing he had to wife -the fairest woman in all the world and the most amiable. And when a man -hath such a wife, he doth not go seeking fortune elsewhere as others -use, else is he a wretch indeed. And not so going, little recks he to -speak ill of ladies, or indeed to speak well either, or to speak at all -about them, except always of his own good lady at home. ’Tis a doctrine -I have heard a very honourable personage maintain: natheless have I -known it prove false more than once. - -King Charles came next to the throne, which by reason of the tenderness -of his years, did pay no heed at the beginning of his reign to the -ladies, but did rather give his thoughts to spending his time in -youthful sports and exercises. Yet did the late deceased M. de Sipierre -his Governour and Tutor,[70*] a man who was in my opinion and in that -of every one else, the most honourable and most courteous gentleman of -his time, and the most gentle and respectful toward women, did so well -teach the same lesson to the King his master and pupil, as that he was -as ready to honour ladies as any of the kings his predecessors. For -never, whether as boy or man, did he see a woman, no matter how busied -he was in other matters, whether he was hurrying on or standing still, -on foot or on horse-back, but he would straight salute the same and -most respectfully doff his cap. Whenas he came to an age for love, he -did serve several very honourable dames and damsels I have known of, -but all this with so great honour and respect as that he might have -been the humblest gentleman of the Court. - -In his reign the great lampoonists did first begin their vogue, and -amongst them even some very gallant gentlemen of the Court, whose -names I will not give, did strangely abuse the ladies, both in general -and in particular, and even some of the greatest in the land. For -this some of them have found themselves entangled in downright fierce -quarrels, and have come off second best,—not indeed that they did avow -the truth, for they did rather always deny they had aught to do with -it. If they had confessed, they had had heavy payment to make, and the -King would certainly have let them feel the weight of his displeasure, -inasmuch as they did attack ladies of over high a rank. Others did -show the best face they could, and did suffer the lie to be cast in -their teeth a thousand times over, conditionally as we may say and -vaguely, and had to swallow a thousand affronts, drinking the same in -as sweetly as though they had been milk, without daring to retort one -word, else had their lives been at risk. ’Tis a thing which hath oft -given me great surprise that suchlike folks should set them to speak -ill of their neighbours, yet suffer others to speak ill of themselves -so sorely and to their very face. Yet had these men the repute of being -gallant swordsmen; but in this matter they would aye endure all but the -extremest insult bravely and without one word of protest. - -I do remember me of a lampoon which was made against a very great lady, -a widow, fair and of most honourable birth, which did desire to marry -again with a very great Prince, a young and handsome man.[71] There -were certain persons, (and I have accurate knowledge of the same), who -disliking this marriage, and to dissuade the Prince therefrom, did -concoct a lampoon on her, the most scandalous I have ever seen, in the -which they did compare her to five or six of the chiefest harlots of -Antiquity, and the most notorious and wanton, declaring how that she -did overtop them each and all. The actual authors of the said satire -did present it to the Prince, professing however that it did emanate -from others, and that themselves had merely been given it. The Prince, -having looked at it, gave the lie to its statements and hurled a -thousand vague and general insults at them which had writ it; yet did -they pass all over in silence, brave and valiant men though they were. -The incident however did give the Prince pause a while, seeing the -lampoon did contain several definite revelations and point direct at -some unpleasant facts; natheless after the lapse of two years more was -the marriage accomplished. - -The King was so great-hearted and kindly that he was never inclined -to favour folks of this kidney. To pass a spicy word or two with them -aside, this he did like well enough; but he was always most unwilling -the common herd should be fed on such diet, declaring that his Court, -which was the best ennobled and most illustrious by reason of great -and noble ladies of any in all the world, should never, such being its -high repute, be cheapened and foully aspersed by the mouth of suchlike -reckless and insolent babblers. ’Twas well enough to speak so of the -courtesans of Rome, or Venice, or other the like places, but not of -the Court of France; it might be permitted to do the thing, it was not -permitted to speak thereof. - -Thus do we see how this Sovereign was ever respectful toward ladies, -nay! so much so that in his later days when some I know of were fain to -give him an evil impression of certain very great, as well as most fair -and honourable dames, for that these had intermeddled in some highly -important matters of his concern, yet would he never credit aught -against them; but did accord them as good favour as ever, dying at the -last in their very good graces and with many a tear of their shedding -to wet his corpse. And they did find good cause to say so too, so soon -as ever King Henri III. came to succeed him, who by reason of sundry -ill reports he had been told of these ladies when in Poland, did not -make near so much of them as he had done aforetime. Both over these -and over some others that I know of, he did exercise a very strict -censorship, and one we may be sure that made him not more liked; and -indeed I do believe they did him no little hurt, and contributed in -part to his evil fortune and final ruin. I could allege sundry special -facts in proof hereof, but I had rather pass them over,—saying only -this much, that women generally are keen set on taking vengeance. It -may be long in coming, but they do execute it at the last.[72*] On the -contrary many men’s revenge is just the opposite in its nature, for -ardent and hot enough at its first beginning to deceive all, yet by -dint of temporising and putting off and long delays it doth grow cool -and come to naught. And this is why ’tis meet to guard against the -first attempt, and take time by the forelock in parrying the blows; but -with women the first fury and attempt, and the temporising and delay, -do both last out to the end,—that is in some women, though hardly many. - -Some have been for excusing the King for the war he made on women in -the way of crying them down, by saying ’twas in order to curb and -correct vice,—as if the curb were of any of the slightest use in these -cases, seeing woman is so conditioned of nature as that the more this -thing is forbid her, the more ardent is she after the same, and to set -a watch on her is just labour lost. So in actual fact myself have seen -how, for all he could do, they were never turned out of their natural -road. - -Several ladies that I wot well enough, did he love and serve with all -due respect and very high honour,—and even a certain very great and -fair Princess,[73] of whom he had fallen so deep in love before his -going into Poland, that after he became King, he did resolve to wed the -same, although she was already married to a great and gallant Prince, -but one that was in rebellion against him and had fled to a foreign -land to gather an army and make war upon him. But at the moment of his -return to France, the lady died in child-birth. Her death alone did -hinder the marriage, for he was firm set thereon. He would certainly -have married her by favour and dispensation of the Pope, who would not -have refused him his consent, being so great a Monarch as he was, and -for sundry other reasons that may be readily imagined. - -Others again he did make love to only for to bring the same into -disparagement. Of such I wot of one, a great lady, in whose case, for -the displeasures her husband had wrought him, and not able otherwise -to get at him, the King did take his revenge on his wife, whom he did -after publish abroad for what she was in the presence of a number of -folk. Yet was this vengeance mild and merciful after all, for in lieu -of death he did give her life. - -Another I wot of, which for overmuch playing the wanton, as also for a -displeasure she did the King, the latter did of set purpose pay court -to. Anon without any vast deal of persuasion, she did grant him an -assignation in a garden, the which he failed not to keep. But he would -have naught else to do with her (so some folk say, but be sure he did -find something to do with her right enough) but only to have her so -seen offering herself in open market, and then to banish her from the -Court with ignominy. - -He was anxious and exceeding inquisitive to know the life of all and -every fair lady of his Court, and to penetrate their secret wishes. -’Tis said he did sometimes reveal one or other of his successes with -women to sundry of his most privy intimates. Happy they! for sure the -leavings of suchlike great monarchs must needs be very tasty morsels. - -The ladies did fear him greatly, as I have myself seen. He would either -reprimand them personally, when needful, or else beg the Queen his -mother so to do, who on her part was ready enough at the work. ’Twas -not however that she did favour scandal-mongers, as I have shown above -in the little examples I have there given. And paying such heed as she -did to these and showing so great displeasure against them, what was -she not bound to do others which did actually compromise the good name -and honour of her ladies? - -This monarch again was so well accustomed from his earliest years, -as myself have seen, to hear tales of ladies and their gallantries -(and truly myself have told him one or two such), and to repeat them -too,—yet alway in secret, for fear the Queen his mother should learn -thereof, for she would never have him tell such stories to any others -than herself, that she might check the same,—so well accustomed was -he to all this, that coming to riper years and full liberty, he did -never lose the habit. And in this wise he did know how they did all -live at his Court and in his Kingdom,—or at the least many of them, and -especially the great ladies of rank, as well as if he had frequented -them every one. And if any there were which were new come to Court, -accosting these most courteously and respectfully, yet would he tell -them over such tales as that they would be utterly amazed at heart to -know where he had gotten all his information, though all the while -denying and protesting against the whole budget to his face. And if he -did divert himself after this fashion, yet did he not fail, in other -and more weighty matters, to apply his visit to such high purpose as -that folk have counted him the greatest King which for an hundred years -hath been in France, as I have writ elsewhere in a chapter composed -expressly upon this Sovereign.[74] - -Accordingly I do now say no more about him, albeit it may be objected -to me that I have been but chary of examples of his character on this -point, and that I should say more, an if I be so well informed. Yea! -truly, I do know tales enough, and some of them high-spiced; but I -wish not to be a mere chronicler of news whether of the Court or of -the world at large. Beside, I could never cloak and cover up these my -tales so featly but that folk would see through them, and scandal come -therefrom. - -Now these traducers of fair ladies be of divers sorts. Some do speak -ill of women for some displeasure these have done them, though all the -while they be as chaste as any in all the world, and instead of the -pure and beauteous angel they really resemble do make out a picture -of a devil all foul and ugly with wickedness. Thus an honourable -gentleman I have both seen and known, did most abominably defame a very -honourable and virtuous lady for a slight affront she had put upon him, -and did sorely wreak his displeasure on her. He would say thus: “I know -quite well I am in the wrong, and do not deny the lady to be really -most chaste and virtuous. But be it who it may, the woman which shall -have affronted me in the smallest degree, though she were as chaste and -pure as the Blessed Virgin herself, seeing I can in no other way bring -her to book, as I would with a man, I will say every evil gallows thing -I can think of concerning her.” Yet surely God will be angered at such -a wretch. - -Other traducers there be, which loving ladies and failing to overcome -their virtue and get aught out of them, do of sheer despite proclaim -them public wantons. Nay! they will do yet worse, saying openly they -have had their will of them, but having known them and found them too -exceeding lustful, have for this cause left them. Myself have known -many gentlemen of this complexion at our French Kings’ Courts. Then -again there is the case of women quitting right out their pretty lovers -and bed favourites, but who presently, following the dictates of their -fickleness and inconstancy, grow sick again and enamoured of others in -their stead; whereupon these same lovers, in despite and despair, do -malign and traduce these poor women, there is no saying how bitterly, -going so far even as to relate detail by detail their naughtinesses and -wanton tricks which they have practised together, and to make known -their blemishes which they have on their naked bodies, to win the -better credence to their tale. - -Other men there be which, in despite because ladies do give to others -what they refuse to them, do malign them with might and main, and have -them watched and spied upon and observed, to the end they may afford -the world the greater signs and proofs of their true speaking. - -Others again there be, which, fairly stung with jealousy, without other -cause than this, do speak ill of those men whom women love the most, -and of the very women whom they themselves love fondly until they see -their faults fully revealed. And this is one of the chiefest effects of -jealousy. Yet are such traducers not so sore to blame as one would at -first say they were; for this their fault must be set down to love and -jealousy; twin brother and sister of one and the same birth. - -Other traducers there be which are so born and bred to backbiting, as -that rather than not backbite some one or other, they will speak ill -of their own selves. Now, think you ’tis likely ladies’ honour will -be spared in the mouth of folks of this kidney? Many suchlike have -I seen at the Courts of our Kings, which being afeared to speak of -men by reason of their sword play, would raise up scandal around the -petticoats of poor weak women, which have no other means of reprisal -but tears, regrets and empty words. Yet have I known not a few which -have come off very ill at this game; for there have been kinsmen, -brothers, friends, lovers of theirs, even husbands, which have made -many repent of their spite, and eat and swallow down their foul words. - -Finally, did I but tell of all the diverse sorts of detractors of -ladies, I should never have done. - -An opinion I have heard many maintain as to love is this: that a -love kept secret is good for naught, an if it be not in some degrees -manifest,—if not to all, at the least to a man’s most privy friends. -But an if it cannot be told to all, yet at the least must some show be -made thereof, whether by display of favours, wearing of fair ladies’ -liveries and colours, or acts of knightly prowess, as tiltings at the -ring, tourneys, mascarades, fights in the lists, even to fights in good -earnest when at the wars. Verily the content of a man is great at -these satisfactions. - -For to tell truth, what would it advantage a great Captain to have done -a fine and signal exploit of war, if not a word were said and naught -known thereof? I ween ’twould be a mortal vexation to him. The like -would rightly seem to be the case with lovers which do love nobly,—as -some at any rate maintain. And of this opinion was that prince of -lovers, M. de Nemours, the paragon of all knighthood; for truly if ever -Prince, great Lord or simple gentleman, hath been fortunate in love, -’twas he. He found no pleasure in hiding his successes from his most -privy friends, albeit from the general he did keep the same so secret, -as that only with much difficulty could folk form a judgment thereanent. - -In good sooth, for married ladies is the revealing of such matters -highly dangerous. On the other hand for maids and widows, which are to -marry, ’tis of no account; for that the cloak and pretext of a future -marriage doth cover up all sins. - -I once knew a very honourable gentleman at Court,[75*] which being -lover of a very great lady, and finding himself one day in company -of a number of his comrades in discourse as to their mistresses, and -agreeing together to reveal the favours received of them to each other, -the said gentleman did all through refuse to declare his mistress, -and did even feign quite another lady to be his dear, and so threw -dust in their eyes,—and this although there was present in the group a -great Prince, which did conjure him to tell the truth, having yet some -suspicion of the secret intrigue he was engaged in. But neither he nor -his companions could draw anything more out of him, although in his -inmost heart he did curse his fate an hundred times over, which had so -constrained him not to reveal, like the rest of them, his success and -triumph, ever more sweet to tell of than defeat. - -Another I once knew, and a right gallant gentleman, by reason of his -presumption and overmuch freedom of speech in proclaiming of his -mistress’ name, the which he should have held sacred, as much by signs -and tokens as by actual words, did come parlous near his death in a -murderous attack he but barely escaped from. Yet afterward on another -count he did not so escape the assassins’ swords, but did presently die -of the hurt they gave him. - -Myself was at Court in the time of King Francis II. when the Comte -de Saint-Aignan did wed at Fontainebleau with young Madame la -Bourdaisière.[76] Next day, the bridegroom having come into the -King’s apartment, each and all of the courtiers present did begin -to vent their japes on him. Amongst others a certain great Lord and -very gallant soldier did ask him how many stages he had made. The -husband replied five. As it fell out, there was also there present an -honourable gentleman, a Secretary, which was then in the very highest -favour with a very great Princess, whose name I will not give, who -hereupon declared,—’twas nothing much, considering the fair road he -had travelled and the fine weather he had, for it was summer-time. The -great Lord then said to him, “Ho! my fine fellow, you’ld be for having -birds enough to your bag, it seems!”—“And prithee, why not?” retorted -the Secretary. “By God! why! I have taken a round dozen in four and -twenty hours on the most fairest meadow is in all this neighbourhood, -or can be anywhere in all France.” Who more astounded than the said -Lord, who did learn by these words a thing he had longwhile suspected? -And seeing that himself was deep in love with this same Princess, he -was exceeding mortified to think how he had so long hunted in this -quarter without ever getting aught, whereas the other had been so -lucky in his sport. This the Lord did dissimulate for the moment; but -later, after long brooding over his resentment, he had paid him back -hot and strong in his own coin but for a certain consideration that I -prefer not to mention. Yet did he ever after bear him a secret grudge. -Indeed, an if the Secretary had been really well advised, he would -never have so boasted of his bag, but would rather have kept the thing -very secret, especially in so high and brilliant an adventure, whereof -trouble and scandal were exceeding like to arise. - -What should we say of a certain gentleman of the great world, which for -some displeasure his mistress had done him, was so insolent as that he -went and showed her husband the lady’s portrait, which she had given -him, and which he carried hung at his neck. The husband did exhibit -no small astonishment, and thereafter showed him less loving toward -his wife, who yet did contrive to gloze over the matter as well as she -could. - -Still more to blame was a great Lord I wot of, who disgusted at some -trick his mistress had played on him, did stake her portrait at dice -and lose it to one of his soldiers, for he was in command of a large -company of infantry. Hearing thereof, the lady came nigh bursting with -vexation, and was exceeding angered. The Queen Mother did presently -hear of it, and did reprimand him for what he had done, on the ground -that the scorn put on her was far too extreme, so to go and abandon to -the chance of the dice the portrait of a fair and honourable lady. -But the Lord did soon set the matter in a better light, declaring how -that in his hazard, he had kept back the parchment inside, and had -staked only the box encasing the same, which was of gold and enriched -with precious stones. Myself have many a time heard the tale discussed -between the lady and the said Lord in right merry wise, and have whiles -laughed my fill thereat. - -Hereanent will I say one thing: to wit, that there be ladies,—and -myself have known sundry such,—which in their loves do prefer to be -defied, threatened, and eke bullied; and a man will in this fashion -have his way with them better far than by gentle dealings and -complacencies. Just as with fortresses, some be taken by sheer force of -arms, others by gentler means. Yet will no women endure to be reviled -and cried out upon as whores; for such words be more offensive to them -than the things they do represent. - -Sulla would never forgive the city of Athens, nor refrain from the -utter overthrow of the same root and branch, not by reason of the -obstinacy of its defence against him, but solely because from the top -of the walls thereof the citizens had foully abused his wife Metella -and touched her honour to the quick.[77*] - -In certain quarters, the which I will not name, the soldiery in -skirmishes and sieges of fortified places were used, the one side -against the other, to cast reproach upon the virtue of two of their -sovereign Princesses, going so far as to cry forth one to the other: -“Your Princess doth play ninepins fine and well!”—“And yours is -downright good at a main too!” By dint of these aspersions and bywords -were the said Princesses cause of rousing them to do havoc and commit -cruelties more than any other reason whatever, as I have myself seen. - -I have heard it related how that the chiefest motive which did most -animate the Queen of Hungary[78*] to light up those her fierce fires of -rage about Picardy and other regions of France was to revenge sundry -insolent and foul-mouthed gossips, which were forever telling of her -amours, and singing aloud through all the countryside the refrain: - - Au, au Barbanson, - Et la reine d’Ongrie, - -—a coarse song at best, and in its loud-voiced ribaldry smacking strong -of vagabond and rustic wit. - - - 4. - -Cato could never stomach Cæsar from that day when in the Senate, which -was deliberating as to measures against Catiline and his conspiracy, -Cæsar being much suspected of being privy to the plot, there was -brought in to the latter under the rose a little packet, or more -properly speaking a _billet doux_, the which Servilia, Cato’s sister, -did send for to fix an assignation and meeting place. Cato now no -more doubting of the complicity of Cæsar with Catiline, did cry out -loud that the Senate should order him to show the communication in -question. Thus constrained, Cæsar made the said letter public, wherein -the honour of the other’s sister was brought into sore scandal and open -disrepute. I leave you then to imagine if Cato, for all the fine airs -he did affect of hating Cæsar for the Republic’s sake, could ever come -to like him, in view of this most compromising incident. Yet was it no -fault of Cæsar’s, for he was bound to show the letter, and that on risk -of his life. And I ween Servilia bare him no special ill-will for this; -for in fact and deed they ceased not to carry on still their loving -intercourse, whereof sprang Brutus, whose father Cæsar was commonly -reputed to have been. If so, he did but ill requite his parent for -having given him being. - -True it is, ladies in giving of themselves to great men, do run many -risks; and if they do win of the same favours, and high privileges and -much wealth, yet do they buy all these at a great price. - -I have heard tell of a very fair lady, honourable and of a good house, -though not of so great an one as a certain great Lord, who was deep in -love with her. One day having found the lady in her chamber alone with -her women, and seated on her bed, after some converse betwixt them and -sundry conceits concerning love, the Lord did proceed to kiss the lady -and did by gentle constraint lay her down upon the bed. Anon coming to -the main issue, and she enduring that same with quiet, civil firmness, -she did say thus to him: “’Tis a strange thing how you great Lords -cannot refrain you from using your authority and privileges upon us -your inferiors. At the least, if only silence were as common with you -as is freedom of speech, you would be but too desirable and excusable. -I do beg you therefore, Sir! to hold secret what you do, and keep mine -honour safe.” - -Such be the words customarily employed by ladies of inferior station to -their superiors. “Oh! my Lord,” they cry, “think at any rate of mine -honour.” Others say, “Ah! my dear Lord, an if you speak of this, I am -undone; in Heaven’s name safeguard mine honour.” Others again, “Why! -my good Lord! if only you do say never a word and mine honour be safe, -I see no great objection,” as if wishing to imply thereby a man may do -what he please, an if it be in secret. So other folk know naught about -it, they deem themselves in no wise dishonoured. - -Ladies of higher rank and more proud station do say to their gallants, -if inferior to themselves: “Be you exceeding careful not to breathe one -word of the thing, no matter how small. Else it is a question of your -life; I will have you thrown in a sack into the water, or assassinated, -or hamstrung;” such and suchlike language do they hold. In fact there -is never a lady, of what rank soever she be, that will endure to be -evil spoke of or her good name discussed however slightly in the Palace -or in men’s mouths. Yet are there some others which be so ill-advised, -or desperate, or entirely carried away of love, as that without men -bringing any charge against them, they do traduce their own selves. Of -such sort was, no long while agone, a very fair and honourable lady, -of a good house, with the which a great Lord did fall deep in love, -and presently enjoying her favours, did give her a very handsome and -precious bracelet. This she was so ill-advised as to wear commonly on -her naked arm above the elbow. But one day her husband, being to bed -with her, did chance to discover the same; and examining it, found -matter enough therein to cause him to rid him of her by a violent -death. A very foolish and ill-advised woman truly! - -I knew at another time a very great and sovereign Prince who after -keeping true to a mistress, one of the fairest ladies of the Court, -by the space of three years, at the end of that time was obliged to go -forth on an expedition for to carry out some conquest. Before starting, -he did of a sudden fall deep in love with a very fair and honourable -Princess, if ever there was one. Then for to show her he had altogether -quitted his former mistress for her sake, and wishing to honour and -serve her in every way, without giving a second thought to the memory -of his old love, he did give her before leaving all the favours, -jewels, rings, portraits, bracelets and other such pretty things which -his former mistress had given him. Some of these being seen and noted -of her, she came nigh dying of vexation and despite; yet did she not -refrain from divulging the matter; for if only she could bring ill -repute on her rival, she was ready to suffer the same scandal herself. -I do believe, had not the said Princess died some while after, that the -Prince, on his coming back from abroad, would surely have married her. - -I knew yet another Prince,[79] though not so great an one, which -during his first wife’s lifetime and during his widowhood, did come to -love a very fair and honourable damsel of the great world, to whom he -did make, in their courting and love time, most beautiful presents, -neck-chains, rings, jewels and many other fine ornaments, and amongst -others a very fine and richly framed mirror wherein was set his own -portrait. Well! presently this same Prince came to wed a very fair and -honourable Princess of the great world, who did make him lose all taste -for his first mistress, albeit neither fell aught below the other for -beauty. The Princess did then so work upon and strongly urge the Prince -her husband, as that he did anon send to demand back of his former -mistress all he had ever given her of fairest and most rich and rare. - -This was a very sore chagrin to the lady; yet was she of so great and -high an heart, albeit she was no Princess, though of one of the best -houses in France, as that she did send him back all that was most fair -and exquisite, wherein was a beautiful mirror with the picture of the -said Prince. But first, for to decorate the same still better, she did -take a pen and ink, and did scrawl inside a great pair of horns for -him right in the mid of the forehead. Then handing the whole to the -gentleman, the Prince’s messenger, she spake thuswise to him: “Here, -my friend, take this to your master, and tell him I do hereby send him -back all he ever gave me, and that I have taken away nor added naught, -unless it be something he hath himself added thereto since. And tell -yonder fair Princess, his wife, which hath worked on him so strongly -to demand back all his presents of me, that if a certain great Lord -(naming him by name, and myself do know who it was) had done the like -by her mother, and had asked back and taken from her what he had many a -time and oft given her for sleeping with him, by way of love gifts and -amorous presents, she would be as poor in gewgaws and jewels as ever -a young maid at Court. Tell her, that for her own head, the which is -now so loaded at the expense of this same Lord and her mother’s belly, -she would then have to go scour the gardens every morning for to pluck -flowers to deck it withal, instead of jewelry. Well! let her e’en make -what show and use she will of them; I do freely give them up to her.” -Any which hath known this fair lady will readily understand she was -such an one as to have said as much; and herself did tell me she did, -and very free of speech she aye was. Yet could she not fail but feel it -sore, whether from husband or wife, to be so ill treated and deceived. -And the Princess was blamed of many folk, which said ’twas her own -fault, to have so despitefully used and driven her to desperation the -poor lady, the which had well earned such presents by the sweat of her -body. - -This lady, for that she was one of the most beautiful and agreeable -women of her time, failed not, notwithstanding she had so sacrificed -her virtue to this Prince, to make a good marriage with a very rich -man, though not her equal in family. So one day, the twain being come -to mutual reproaches as to the honour they had done each the other in -marrying, and she making a point of the high estate she was of and yet -had married him, he did retort, “Nay! but I have done more for you than -you have done for me; for I have dishonoured myself for to recover your -honour for you;” meaning to infer by this that, whereas she had lost -hers when a girl, he had won it back for her, by taking her to wife. - -I have heard tell, and I ween on good authority, how that, after King -Francis I. had quitted Madame de Chasteaubriand, his most favourite -mistress, to take Madame d’Etampes, Helly by her maiden name, whom the -Queen Regent had chosen for one of her Maids of Honour and did bring to -the King’s notice on his return from Spain to Bordeaux,—and he did take -her for his mistress, and left the aforesaid Madame de Chasteaubriand, -as they say one nail doth drive out another,—his new mistress Madame -d’Etampes, did beg the King to have back from the Chasteaubriand all -the best jewels which he had given her. Now this was in no wise for -the price or value of the same, for in those days pearls and precious -stones had not the vogue they have since gotten, but for liking of -the graceful mottoes[80*] which had been set, imprinted and engraven -thereon, the which the Queen of Navarre, his sister, had made and -composed; for she was a past mistress of this art. So King Francis -did grant her prayer, and promising he would do this, was as good as -his word. To this end he did send one of his gentlemen to her for to -demand their return, but she on the instant did feign herself sick -and appointed the gentleman to come again in three days’ time, when -he should have what he craved. Meantime, in her despite, she did send -for a goldsmith, and had him melt down all the jewels, without any -regard or thought of the dainty devices which were engraven thereon. -Then anon, when the messenger was returned, she did give him all the -ornaments converted and changed into gold ingots. “Go, carry this,” she -said, “to the King, and tell him that, as it hath pleased his Majesty -to ask back what he did erst so generously give me, I do now return -and send back the same in gold ingots. As for the mottoes and devices, -these I have so well conned over and imprinted on my mind, and do hold -them so dear, as that I could in no wise suffer any other should use or -enjoy the same and have delight therein but myself.” - -When the King had received the whole, ingots and message and all, he -made no other remark but only this, “Nay! give her back the whole. What -I was for doing, ’twas not for the worth of the gold (for I would have -gladly given her twice as much), but for liking of the devices and -mottoes; but seeing she hath so destroyed these, I care not for the -gold, and do return it her again. Herein hath she shown more greatness -and boldness of heart than ever I had dreamed could come of a woman.” -A noble-spirited lady’s heart, chagrined so and scorned, is capable of -great things. - -These Princes which do so recall their presents act much otherwise -than did once Madame de Nevers, of the house of Bourbon, daughter -of M. de Montpensier.[81*] This same was in her day a very prudent, -virtuous and beautiful Princess, and held for such both in France and -Spain, in which latter country she had been brought up along with Queen -Elisabeth of France, being her cup-bearer and giving her to drink; -for it must be known this Queen was aye served by her gentlewomen, -dames and damsels, and each had her rank and office, the same as we -Courtiers in attendance on our Kings. This Princess was married to -the Comte d’Eu, eldest son of M. de Nevers, she worthy of him as he -was right well worthy of her, being one of the handsomest and most -pleasing Princes of his time. For which cause was he much loved and -sought after of many fair and noble ladies of the Court, amongst others -of one which was both this, and a very adroit and clever woman to -boot. Now it befell one day that the Prince did take a ring from off -his wife’s finger, a very fine one, a diamond worth fifteen hundred -or mayhap two thousand crowns, the which the Queen of Spain had given -her on her quitting her Court. This ring the Prince, seeing how his -mistress did admire it greatly and did show signs of coveting its -possession, being very free-handed and generous, did frankly offer her, -giving her to understand he had won the same at tennis. Nor did she -refuse the gift, but taking it as a great mark of affection, did always -wear it on her finger for love of him. And thus Madame de Nevers, -who did understand from her good husband that he had lost the ring at -tennis, or at any rate that it was lying pawned, came presently to -see the same on the hand of her rival, whom she was quite well aware -was her husband’s mistress. Yet was she so wise and prudent and had -such command of herself, as that, merely changing colour somewhat and -quietly dissembling her chagrin, without any more ado she did turn her -head another way, and did breathe never a word of the matter either to -her husband or his mistress. Herein was she much to be commended, for -that she did show no cross-grained, vixenish temper, nor anger, nor yet -expose the younger lady to public scorn, as not a few others I wot of -would have done, thus delighting the company and giving them occasion -for gossip and scandal-mongering. - -Thus we see how necessary is moderation in such matters and how -excellent a thing, as also that here no less than elsewhere doth luck -and ill-luck prevail. For some ladies there be which cannot take one -step aside or make the very smallest stumble in the path of virtue, -or taste of love but with the tip of their finger, but lo! they be -instantly traduced, exposed and satirized right and left. - -Others again there be which do sail full before the wind over the sea -and pleasant waters of Venus, and with naked body and wide spread limbs -do swim with wide strokes therein, wantoning in its waves, voyaging -toward Cyprus and the Temple of Venus there and her gardens, and taking -their fill of delight in love; yet deuce a word doth any say about -them, no more than if they had never been born. Thus doth fortune -favour some and mislike others in matter of scandal-making; myself have -seen not a few examples thereof in my day, and some be found still. - -In the time of King Charles was writ a lampoon at Fontainebleau, most -base and scurrilous, wherein the fellow did spare neither the Royal -Princesses nor the very greatest ladies nor any others. And verily, an -if the true author had been known, he would have found himself in very -ill case. - -At Blois moreover, whenas the marriage of the Queen of Navarre was -arranged with the King, her husband, was made yet another, against -a very great and noble lady, and a most scurrilous one, whereof the -author was never discovered. But there were really some very brave and -valiant gentlemen mixed up therein, which however did carry it off very -boldly and made many loud general denials. So many others beside were -writ, as that naught else was seen whether in this reign or in that of -King Henri III.—and above all one most scurrilous one in the form of a -song, and to the tune of a _coranto_ which was then commonly danced at -Court, and hence came to be sung among the pages and lackeys on every -note, high and low. - - - 5. - -In the days of our King Henri III. was a yet worse thing done. A -certain gentleman, whom I have known both by name and person, did one -day make a present to his mistress of a book of pictures, wherein were -shown two and thirty ladies of high or middling rank about the Court, -painted in true colours, a-bed and sporting with their lovers, who were -likewise represented and that in the most natural way. Some had two or -three lovers, some more, some less; and these thirty-two ladies did -figure forth more than seven and twenty of the figures or _postures_ -of Aretino, and all different. The actors were so well represented -and so naturally, as that they did seem actually to be speaking and -doing. While some were disrobed, other were shown clad in the very same -clothes, and with the same head-dresses, ornaments and weeds as they -were commonly to be seen wearing. In a word, so cunningly was the book -wrought and painted that naught could be more curious; and it had cost -eight or nine hundred crowns, and was illuminated throughout. - -Now this lady did show it one day and lend it to another, her comrade -and bosom friend, which latter was much a favourite and familiar of -a great Lady that was in the book, and one of the most vividly and -vigorously represented there; so seeing how much it concerned herself, -she did give her best attention. Then being curious of all experience, -she was fain to look it over with another, a great lady, her cousin and -chiefest friend, who had begged her to afford her the enjoyment of the -sight, and who was likewise in the pictures, like the rest. - -So the book was examined very curiously and with the greatest care, -leaf by leaf, without passing over a single one lightly, so that they -did spend two good hours of the afternoon at the task. The fair ladies, -far from being annoyed or angered thereat, did find good cause for -mirth therein, seeing them to admire the pictures mightily, and gaze at -them fixedly. - -These two dames were bolder and more valiant and determined than one -I have heard tell of, who one day looking at this same book with -two others of her friends, so ravished with delight was she and did -enter into such an ecstasy of love and so burning a desire to imitate -these same luscious pictures, as that she cannot see out of her eyes -till the fourth page, and at the fifth did fall in a dead faint. A -terrible swoon truly! very different to that of Octavia, sister of -Cæsar Augustus, who one day hearing Virgil recite the three verses he -had writ on her dead son Marcellus (for which she did give him three -thousand crowns for the three alone) did incontinently swoon right -away. That was love indeed, but of how different a sort! - -I have heard tell, in the days when I was at Court, of a great Prince -of the highest rank, old and well stricken in years, and who ever since -the loss of his wife had borne him very continently in his widowhood, -as indeed was but consistent with his high repute for sanctity of life. -At last he was fain to marry again with a very fair, virtuous and young -Princess. But seeing how for the ten years he had been a widower he -had never so much as touched a woman, and fearing to have forgot the -way of it (as though it were an art that a man may forget), and to get -a rebuff the first night of his wedlock, and perform naught of his -desire, was anxious to make a previous essay. So by dint of money he -did win over a fair young maid, a virgin like the wife he was to marry; -nay more, ’tis said he had her chosen to resemble somewhat in features -his future wife. Fortune was so kind to him that he did prove he had by -no means forgot as yet his old skill; and his essay was so successful -that, bold and happy, he did advance to his wife’s fortress, and won -good victory and high repute. - -This essay was more successful than that of another gentleman whose -name I have heard, whom his father, although he was very young and much -of a simpleton, did desire should marry. Well! first of all he was -for making an essay, to know if he would be a good mate with his wife; -so for this end, some months aforehand, he did get him a pretty-faced -harlot, whom he made to come every afternoon to his father’s warren, -for ’twas summer-time, where he did frisk and make sport with the -damsel in the freshness of the green trees and a gushing fountain in -such wise that he did perform wonders. Thus encouraged, he feared no -man, but was ready enough to play the like bold part with his wife. But -the worst of it was that when the marriage night was come, and it was -time to go with his wife, lo! he cannot do a thing. Who so astonished -as the poor youth, and who so ready to cry out upon his accursed -recreant weapon, which had so missed fire in the new spot where he now -was. Finally plucking up his courage, he said thus to his wife, “My -pretty one, I cannot tell what this doth mean, for every day I have -done wonders in the warren,” and so recounted over his deeds of prowess -to her. “Let us to sleep now, and my advice is, to-morrow after dinner -I will take you thither, and you shall see very different sport.” This -he did, and his wife found him as good as his word. Hence the saying -current at Court, “Ha, ha! an if I had you in my father’s warren, -you should see what I would do!” We can only suppose that the god of -gardens, Dan Priapus, and the fauns and wanton satyrs which haunt the -woods, do there aid good fellows and favour their deeds of prowess. - -Yet are not all essays alike, nor do all end favorably. For in matter -of love, I have both seen and heard tell of not a few good champions -which have failed to remember their lessons and keep their engagements -when they came to the chief task of all. For while some be either -too hot or too cold, in such wise that these humours, of ice or of -fire, do take them of a sudden, others be lost in an ecstasy to find -so sovran a treat within their arms; others again grow over fearful, -others get instantly and totally flaccid and impotent, without the -least knowing the reason why, and yet others find themselves actually -paralysed. In a word there be so many unexpected accidents which may -occur just at the wrong moment, that if I were to tell them all, I -should not have done for ages. I can only refer me to many married -folk and other amateurs of love, who can say an hundred times more -of all this than I. Now such essays be good for the men, but not for -the women. Thus I have heard tell of a mother, a lady of quality, who -holding very dear an only daughter she had, and having promised the -same in marriage to an honourable gentleman, avant que de l’y faire -entrer et craignant qu’elle ne pût souffrir ce premier et dur effort, -à quoi on disait le gentilhomme être très rude et fort proportionné, -elle la fit essayer premièrement par un jeune page qu’elle avait, assez -grandet, une douzaine de fois, disant qu’il n’y avait que la première -ouverture fâcheuse à faire et que, se faisant un peu douce et petite -au commencement, qu’elle endurerait la grande plus aisément; comme il -advint, et qu’il y put avoir de l’apparence. Cet essai est encore bien -plus honnête et moins scandaleux qu’un qui me fut dit une fois, en -Italie, d’un père qui avait marié son fils, qui était encore un jeune -sot, avec une fort belle fille à laquelle, tant fat qu’il était, il -n’avait rien pu faire ni la première ni la seconde nuit de ses noces; -et comme il eut demandé et au fils et à la nore comme ils se trouvaient -en mariage et s’ils avaient triomphé, ils répondirent l’un et l’autre: -“_Niente_.—A quoi a-t-il tenu?” demanda à son fils. Il répondit tout -follement qu’il ne savait comment il fallait faire. Sur quoi il prit -son fils par une main et la nore par une autre et les mena tous deux en -une chambre et leur dit: “Or je vous veux donc montrer comme il faut -faire.” Et fit coucher sa nore sur un bout de lit, et lui fait bien -élargir les jambes, et puis dit à son fils: “Or vois comment je fais,” -et dit à sa nore: “Ne bougez, non importe, il n’y a point de mal.” -Et en mettant son membre bien arboré dedans, dit: “Avise bien comme -je fais et comme je dis, _Dentro fuero, dentro fuero_,” et répliqua -souvent ces deux mots en s’avançant dedans et reculant, non pourtant -tout dehors. Et ainsi, après ces fréquentes agitations et paroles, -_dentro_ et _fuero_, quand ce vint à la consommation, il se mit à dire -brusquement et vite: _Dentro, dentro, dentro, dentro_, jusqu’à ce qu’il -eût fait. Au diable le mot de _fuero_. Et par ainsi, pensant faire du -magister, il fut tout à plat adultère de sa nore, laquelle, ou qu’elle -fit de la niaise ou, pour mieux dire, de la fine, s’en trouva très bien -pour ce coup, voire pour d’autres que lui donna le fils et le père et -tout, possible pour lui mieux apprendre sa leçon, laquelle il ne lui -voulut pas apprendre à demi ni à moitié, mais à perfection. Aussi toute -leçon ne vaut rieu autrement. - -I have heard many enterprising and successful Lovelaces declare how -that they have often seen ladies in these faints and swoonings, yet -always readily coming to again afterward. Many women, they said, do cry -out: “Alackaday! I am a-dying!”—but ’tis, I ween, a mighty agreeable -sort of death. Others there be which do turn back their eyes in their -head for excess of pleasure, as if about to expire outright, and let -themselves go absolutely motionless and insensible. Others I have been -told do so stiffen and spasmodically contract their nerves, arteries -and limbs, as that they do bring on cramp; as one lady I have heard -speak of, which was so subject thereto she could never be cured. - -Anent these same swoonings, I have heard tell of a fair lady, which -was being embraced by her lover on top of a large chest or coffer. -Very suddenly and unavoidably for herself, she did swoon right off in -such wise that she did let herself slide behind the coffer with legs -projected in the air, and getting so entangled betwixt the coffer and -the tapestry of the wall, that while she was yet struggling to free -herself and her cavalier helping her, there entered some company and -so surprised her in this forked-radish attitude. These had time enough -to see all she had,—which was all very pretty and dainty however,—and -all the poor woman could do was to cover herself up as best she might, -saying so and so had pushed her, as they were playing, behind the -coffer, and declaring how that she would never like the fellow again -for it. - -Cette dame courut bien plus grande fortune qu’une que j’ai ouï dire, -laquelle, alors que son ami la tenait embrassée et investie sur le bord -de son lit, quand ce vint sur la douce fin qu’il eut achevé et que par -trop il s’étendait, il avait par cas des escarpins neufs qui avaient -la semelle glissante, et s’appuyant sur des carreaux plombés dont la -chambre était pavée, qui sont fort sujets à faire glisser, il vint à -se couler et glisser si bien sans se pouvoir arrêter que, du pourpoint -qu’il avait, tout recouvert de clinquant, il en écorcha de telle façon -le ventre, la motte le cas et les cuisses de sa maitresse que vous -eussiez dit que les griffes d’un chat y avaient passé; ce qui cuisait -si fort la dame qu’elle en fit un grand cri et ne s’en put garder; mais -le meilleur fut que la dame, parce que c’était en été et faisait grand -chaud, s’était mise en appareil un peu plus lubrique que les autres -fois, car elle n’avait que sa chemise bien blanche et un manteau de -satin blanc dessus, et les caleçons à part e si bien que le gentilhomme. - -The lady told the story to one of her female friends, and the gentleman -to one of his comrades. So the thing came to be known, from being again -repeated over to others; for indeed ’twas a right good tale and very -meet to provoke mirth. - -And no doubt but the ladies, whenas they be alone, among their most -privy bosom-friends, do repeat merry tales, everywhit as much as we -men-folk do, and tell each other their amorous adventures and all their -most secret tricks and turns, and afterward laugh long and loud over -the same, making fine fun of their gallants, whenever these be guilty -of some silly mistake or commit some ridiculous and foolish action. - -Yea! and they do even better than this. For they do filch their lovers -the one from the other, and this sometimes not so much for passion’s -sake, but rather for to draw from them all their secrets, the pretty -games and naughty follies they have practised with them. These they do -then turn to their own advantage, whether still further to stir their -ardour, or by way of revenge, or to get the better one of the other in -their privy debates and wranglings when they be met together. - -In the days of this same King Henri III. was made that satire without -words consisting of the book of pictures I have spoke of above, of -sundry ladies in divers postures and connections with their gallants. -’Twas exceeding base and scurrilous,—for the which see the above -passage wherein I have described the same. - -Well! enough said on this matter. I could wish from my heart that not -a few evil tongues in this our land of France could be chastened and -refrain them from their scandal-making, and comport them more after -the Spanish fashion. For no man there durst, on peril of his life, to -make so much as the smallest reflection on the honour of ladies of -rank and reputation. Nay! so scrupulously are they respected that on -meeting them in any place whatsoever, an if the faintest cry is raised -of _lugar a las damas_, every man doth lout low and pay them all honour -and reverence. Before them is all insolence straitly forbid on pain of -death. - -Whenas the Empress,[82] wife of the Emperor Charles, made his entry -into Toledo, I have heard tell how that the Marquis de Villena, one -of the great Lords of Spain, for having threatened an alguasil, which -had forcibly hindered him from stepping forward, came nigh being sore -punished, because the threat was uttered in presence of the Empress; -whereas, had it been merely in the Emperor’s, no such great ado would -have been made. - -The Duc de Feria being in Flanders, and the Queens Eleanor and Marie -taking the air abroad, and their Court ladies following after them, -it fell out that as he was walking beside them, he did come to words -with an other Spanish knight. For this the pair of them came very nigh -to losing their lives,—more for having made such a scandal before the -Queen and Empress than for any other cause. - -The same befell Don Carlos d’Avalos at Madrid, as Queen Isabelle of -France was walking through the town; and had he not sped instantly -into a Church which doth there serve as sanctuary for poor unfortunate -folk, he had been straightway put to death. The end was he had to fly -in disguise, and leave Spain altogether; and was kept in banishment all -his life long and confined in the most wretched islet of all Italy, -Lipari to wit. - -Court jesters even, which have usually full license of free speech, -an if they do assail the ladies, do get somewhat to remember. It did -so fall out one time to a Fool called Legat, whom I once knew myself. -Queen Elizabeth of France[83*] once in conversation speaking of the -houses at Madrid and Valladolid, how charming and agreeable these were, -did declare she wished with all her heart the two places were so near -she could e’en touch one with one foot and the other with the other, -spreading her legs very wide open as she said the words. The Fool, who -heard the remark, cried, “And I should dearly wish to be in betwixt, -_con un carrajo de borrico, para encarguar y plantar la raya_,”—that -is, “with a fool’s cudgel to mark and fix the boundary withal.” For -this he was soundly whipped in the kitchens. Yet was he well justified -in forming such a wish; for truly was she one of the fairest, most -agreeable and honourable ladies was ever in all Spain, and well -deserving to be desired in this fashion,—only of folk more honourable -than he an hundred thousand times. - -I ween these fine slanderers and traducers of ladies would dearly -love to have and enjoy the same privilege and license the vintagers -do possess in the country parts of Naples at vintage time. These be -allowed, so long as the vintage dureth, to shout forth any sort of vile -word and insult and ribaldry to all that pass that way, coming and -going on the roads. Thus will you see them crying and screaming after -all wayfarers and vilifying the same, without sparing any, whether -great, middling or humble folk, of what estate soever they be. Nor -do they spare,—and this is the merry part on’t,—the ladies one whit -neither, high-born dames or Princesses or any. Indeed in my day I did -there hear of not a few fine ladies, and see them too, which would make -a pretext to hie them to the fields on purpose, so as they might pass -along the roads, and so hearken to this pretty talk and hear a thousand -naughty conceits and lusty words. These the peasants would invent and -roll off in plenty, casting up at the great ladies their naughtiness -and the shameful ways they did use toward their husbands and lovers, -going so far as to chide them for their shameful loves and intimacies -with their own coachmen, pages, lackeys and apparitors, which were of -their train. Going yet further, they would ask them right out for the -courtesy of their company, saying they would assault them roundly and -satisfy them better than all the others could. All this they would -let out in words of a fine, natural frankness and bluntness, without -any sort of glossing or disguising. The ladies had their good laugh -and pastime out of the thing, and there an end, making their servants -which were with them answer back in the like strain and give as good as -they got. The vintage once done and over, there is truce of suchlike -language till another year, else would they be brought to book and sore -punished. - -I am told the said custom doth still endure, and that many folk in -France would fain have it observed there also at some season of the -year or other, to enjoy in security the pleasure of their evil -speaking, which they do love so well. - -Well! to make an end of the subject, ’tis very meet all ladies be -respected of all men, and the secret of their loves and favours duly -kept. This is why Pietro Aretino said, that when lovers were come -to it, the kisses that man and maid did give each other were not -so much for their mutual delight as for to join connection of the -mouths together and so make signal betwixt them that they do keep -hid the secret of their merry doings. Nay, more! that some lustful -and lascivious husbands do in their wantonness show them so free and -extravagant in words, as that not content with committing sundry -naughty profligacies with their wives, they do declare and publish -the same to their boon-companions, and make fine tales out of them. -So much so that I have myself known wives which did conceive a mortal -repugnance to their husbands for this cause and would even very often -refuse them the pleasures they had erst afforded them. They would not -have such scandalous things said of them, albeit ’twas but betwixt -husband and wife. - -M. du Bellay, the poet, in his book of Latin epitaphs called _Les -Tombeaux_, which he hath composed, and very fine it is, hath writ one -on a dog, that methinks is well worth quoting here, for ’tis writ much -in our own manner. It runneth thus: - - Latratu fures excepi, mutus amentes. - Sic placui domino, sic placui dominæ. - - (By my barking I did drive away thieves, with a quiet tongue I did - greet lovers. Thus I did please my master, and thus my mistress.) - -Well! if we are so to love animals for discreetness, how much more must -we not value men for holding silence? And if we are to take advice on -this matter of a courtesan which was one of the most celebrated of -former days, and a past mistress in her art, to wit Lamia, here it -is. Asked wherein a woman did find most satisfaction in her lover, -she replied ’twas when he was discreet in talk and secret as to what -he did. Above all else she said she did hate a boaster, one that was -forever boasting of what he did not do, yet failing to accomplish -what he promised,—two faults, each as bad as the other. She was used -to say further: that a woman, albeit ready enough to be indiscreet, -would never willingly be called harlot, nor published abroad for such. -Moreover she said how that she did never make merry at a man’s expense, -nor any man at hers, nor did any ever miscall her. A fair dame of this -sort, so experienced in love’s mysteries, may well give lessons to -other women. - -Well, well! enough said on these points. Another man, more eloquent -than I, might have embellished and ennobled the subject better far. To -such I do pass on hereby mine arms and pen. - - - - - [Illustration: Decorative scrollwork above chapter start] - - - - - SEVENTH DISCOURSE[84*] - - Concerning married women, widows and maids,—to wit, - which of these same be better than the other to love. - - - INTRODUCTION - -One day when I was at the Court of Spain at Madrid, and conversing -with a very honourable lady, as is the way at Kings’ Courts, she -did chance to ask me this question following: _Qual era mayor fuego -d’amor, el de la biuda, el de la casada, o de la hija moça_,—“which of -the three had the greater heat of love, widow, wife or maid?” After -myself had told her mine opinion, she did in turn give me hers in some -such terms as these: _Lo que me parece d’ esta cosa es que, aunque -las moças con el hervor de la sangre, se disponen á querer mucho, no -deve ser tanto como lo que quieren las casadas y biudas, con la gran -experiencia del negocio. Esta razon debe ser natural, como lo seria la -del que, por haver nacido ciego de la perfeccion de la luz, no puede -cobdiciar de ella con tanto deseo como el que vio, y fue privado de la -vista._—“What I think on the matter is this: that albeit maids, with -all that heat of blood that is theirs, be right well disposed to love, -yet do they not love so well as wives and widows. This is because of -the great experience of the business the latter have, and the obvious -fact that supposing a man born blind, and from birth robbed of all -power of vision, he can never desire the gift so strongly as he that -hath sweetly enjoyed the same a while and then been deprived thereof.” -To which she did presently add this further remark: _Con menos pena -se abstiene d’ una cosa la persona que nunca supo, que aquella que -vive enamorada del gusto pasado_—“How that one could with a lesser ado -refrain from a thing one had never tried, than from one already known -and loved.” Such were the reasons this lady did adduce on this moot -point. - -Again the respected and learned Boccaccio, among the questions -discussed in his _Filicopo_,[85*] doth in the ninth treat of this same -problem: Which of these three, wife, widow or maid, a man should rather -fall in love with, in order the more happily to carry his desire into -effect? The author doth answer by the mouth of the Queen he doth there -introduce speaking, that although ’tis of course very ill done and -against God and one’s own conscience to covet a married woman, which -is in no sense another’s, but subject to her husband, it is natheless -far easier to come to the point with her than ever with maid or widow, -albeit such love is dangerous,—seeing the more a man doth blow the -fire, the more he rouseth it, whereas otherwise it dieth down. Indeed -all things do wane in the using, except only wantonness, which doth -rather wax. But the widow, which hath been long without such exercise, -doth scarce feel it at all, and doth take no more account of love than -if she had never been married, and is more heated by memory of the past -than by present concupiscence. Also the maid, which hath no knowledge -nor experience of what it is, save by imagination, hath but a lukewarm -longing therefor. On the other hand the married woman, heated more -than the others, doth oft desire to come to the point and enjoy this -pleasure, in spite of its sometimes bringing on her her husband’s sore -displeasure manifested in words and eke blows. For all this, fain to -be revenged on him (for naught is so vengeful as a woman), as well as -for sake of the thing itself, doth the wife make him cuckold right out, -and enjoy the desire of her heart. Beside, folk do soon weary of eating -ever of the same meat, and for this cause even great Lords and Ladies -do often leave good and delicate viands for to take others instead. -Moreover, with girls, ’tis a matter of overmuch pains and consumption -of time to tame them and bring them round to the will of men; nay! an -if they _do_ love, they know not that they do. But with widows, the old -fire doth readily recover its vigour, very soon making them desire once -more what by reason of long discontinuance they had forgot the savour -of. Thus they be not slow to come back again to the old delights, only -regretting the time wasted and the weary nights of widowhood passed all -alone and uncomforted in their cold beds. - -In answer to these arguments of the Queen, a certain gentleman named -Faramond doth make reply. Leaving married women aside altogether, as -being so easy to get the better of without a man’s using any great -reasoning to persuade them to it, he doth consider the case of maids -and widows, maintaining the maid to be more steadfast in love than the -widow. For the widow, who hath experienced in the past the secrets -of passion, doth never love steadfastly, but always doubtfully and -tentatively, quickly changing and desiring now one, now another -gallant, never knowing to which she should give herself for her -greater advantage and honour! Nay! sometimes so vacillating is she in -her long deliberations she doth choose never an one at all, and her -amorous passion can find no steadfast hold whatever. Quite opposite is -the maid, he saith, and all such doubts and hesitations be foreign to -her. Her one desire is to have a lover true, and after once choosing -him well, to give all her soul to him and please him in all things, -deeming it the best honour she can do him to be true and steadfast in -her love. So being only too ardent for the things which have never yet -been seen, heard or proven of her, she doth long far more than other -women which have had experience of life, to see, hear and prove all -such matters. Thus the keen desire she hath to see new things doth -strongly dominate her heart; she doth make enquiries of them that -know,—which doth increase her flame yet more. Accordingly she is very -eager to be joined with him she hath made Lord of her affections, -whereas this same ardour is not in the widow, seeing she hath passed -that way already. - -Well at the last the Queen in Boccaccio, taking up the word again and -wishing to give a final answer to the question, doth thus conclude: -That the widow is more painstaking of the pleasure of love an hundred -fold than the virgin, seeing the latter is all for dearly guarding her -precious virginity and maidenhead. Further, virgins be naturally timid, -and above all in this matter, awkward and inept to find the sweet -artifices and pretty complaisances required under divers circumstances -in such encounters. But this is not so with the widow, who is already -well practised, bold and ready in this art, having long ago bestowed -and given away what the virgin doth make so much ado about giving. For -this cause she hath no fear of her person being looked at, or her -virtue impugned by the discovery of any mark of lapse from honour; and -in all respects she doth better know the secret ways for to arrive at -her end. Beside all this, the maid doth dread this first assault of her -virginity, which in many women is sometimes rather grievous and painful -than soft and pleasant, whereas widows have no such fear, but do submit -themselves very sweetly and gently, even when the assailant be of the -roughest. Now this particular pleasure is quite different from many -others, for with them a man is oft satisfied with the first experience -and goeth lightly to others, whereas in this the longing to return once -more to the same doth ever wax more and more. Accordingly the widow, -which doth give least, but giveth it often, is an hundred times more -liberal than the maid, when this last doth at length consent to abandon -her most precious possession, to the which she doth direct a thousand -thoughts and regrets. Wherefore, the Queen doth conclude, ’tis much -better for a man to address himself to a widow than to a maid, as being -far easier to gain over and corrupt. - - - - - [Illustration: Decorative scrollwork above chapter start] - - - - - ARTICLE I - - OF THE LOVE OF MARRIED WOMEN - - -Now to take and further consider these arguments of Boccaccio, and -expand them somewhat, and discuss the same, according to the words I -have heard spoke of many honourable gentlefolk, both men and women, -on these matters,—as the result of ample knowledge and experience, I -declare there can be no doubt that any man wishing quickly to have -fruition of love, must address him to married ladies, an if he would -avoid great trouble and much consumption of time; for, as Boccaccio -saith, the more a fire is stirred, the more ardent doth it grow. And -’tis the married woman which doth grow so hot with her husband, that an -if he be lacking in the wherewithal to extinguish the fire he doth give -his wife, she must needs borrow of another man, or burn up alive. I -did once know myself a lady of good birth, of a great and high family, -which did one day tell her lover, and he did repeat the tale to me, -how that of her natural disposition she was in no wise keen for this -pleasure so much as folk would think (and God wot this is keen enough), -and was ready and willing many a time to go without, were it not that -her husband stirring her up, while yet he was not strong or capable -enough to properly assuage her heat, he did make her so fierce and hot -she was bound to resort for succour in this pass to her lover. Nay! -very often not getting satisfaction enough of him even, she would -withdraw her alone, to her closet or her bed, and there in secrecy -would cure her passion as best she might. Why! she declared, had it -not been for very shame, she would have given herself to the first she -met in a ballroom, in any alcove, or on the very steps, so tormented -was she with this terrible feeling. Herein was she for all the world -like the mares on the borders of Andalusia, which getting so hot and -not finding their stallions there to leap them and so unable to have -satisfaction, do set their natural opening against the wind blowing -in these plains, which doth so enter in and assuageth their heat and -getteth them with foal. Hence spring those steeds of such fleetness we -see from those regions, as though keeping some of the fleetness and -natural swiftness of the wind their sire. I ween there be husbands -enough would be right glad if their wives could find such a wind as -this, to refresh them and assuage their heat, without their having to -resort to their lovers and give their poor mates most unbecoming horns -for their heads. - -Truly a strange idiosyncrasy in a woman, the one I have just -adduced,—not to burn, but when stirred of another. Yet need we be in -no way astonished thereat, for as said a Spanish lady: _Que quanto -mas me quiero sacar de la braza, tanto mas mi marido me abraza en el -brazero_,—“The more I am for avoiding the embers, the more my husband -doth burn me in my brazier.” And truly women may well be kindled that -way, seeing how by mere words, by touching and embracing alone, even -by alluring looks, they do readily allow themselves to be drawn to it, -when they find opportunity, without a thought of the consideration they -owe their husbands. - -For, to tell the real truth, what doth most hinder every woman, wife -or maid, from taking of this pleasure again and again is the dread -they feel of having their belly swell, without eating beans,—an event -married ladies do not fear a whit. For an if they do so swell, why! -’tis the poor husband that hath done it all, and getteth all the -credit. And as for the laws of honour which do forbid them so to -do, why! Boccaccio doth plainly say the most part of women do laugh -at these, alleging for reason and justification: that Nature’s laws -come first, which doth never aught in vain, and hath given them such -excellent members to be used and set to work, and not to be left idle -and unemployed. Nature neither forbiddeth the proper exercise of these -nor imposeth disuse on these parts more than on any other; else would -the spiders be building their webs there, as I have said in another -place, unless they do find brushes meet to sweep them away withal. -Beside, from keeping themselves unexercised do very oft spring sore -complaints and even dangers to life,—and above all a choking of the -womb, whereof so many women die as ’tis pitiful to see, and these -right fair and honourable dames. All this for sake of this plaguey -continence, whereof the best remedy, say the doctors, is just carnal -connection, and especially with very vigorous and well provided -husbands. They say further, at any rate some of our fair ones do, that -this law of honour is only for them that love not and have got them -no true and honourable lovers, in whom no doubt ’tis unbecoming and -blameworthy to go sacrifice to the chastity of their body, as if they -were no better than courtesans. But such as truly love, and have gotten -them lovers well chosen and good, this law of honour doth in no wise -forbid them to help these to assuage the fires that burn them, and -give them wherewithal to extinguish the same. This is verily and indeed -for women to give life to the suppliant asking it, showing themselves -gentle-hearted benefactresses, not savage and cruel tyrants. - -This is what Renaldo said, whom I have spoke of in a former discourse, -when telling of the poor afflicted Ginevra. As to this, I did once -know a very honourable lady and a great one, whom her lover did one -day find in her closet, translating that famous stanza of the said -Renaldo beginning, _Una donna deve dunque morire_,—“A lady fair was -like to die,” into French verse, as fair and fairly wrought, as ever I -have seen,—for I did see the lines after. On his asking her what she -had writ there, she replied: “See, a translation I have just made, -which is at once mine own judgment by me delivered, and a sentence -pronounced in your favour for to content you in that you desire,—and -only the execution doth now remain;” and this last, the reading done, -was promptly carried out. A better sentence i’faith than was ever given -in the Bailey Court of the Paris Parliament![86] For of all the fine -words and excellent arguments wherewith Ariosto hath adorned Renaldo’s -speech, I do assure you the lady forgat never an one to translate and -reproduce them all well and thoroughly, so as the translation was as -meet as ever the original to stir the heart. Thus did she let her lover -plainly understand she was ready enough to save his life, and not -inexorable to his supplication, while he was no less apt to seize his -opportunity. - -Why then shall a lady, when that Nature hath made her good and full -of pity, not use freely the gifts given her, without ingratitude to -the giver, and without resistance and contradiction to her laws? This -was the view of a fair lady I have heard speak of, which watching her -husband one day walking up and down in a great hall, cannot refrain her -from turning to her lover and saying, “Just look at our good man pacing -there; has not he the true build of a cuckold? Surely I should have -gone sore against dame Nature, seeing she had created him and destined -him for this, an if I had contradicted her intent and given her the -lie!” - -I have heard speak of another lady, which did thus complain of her -husband, which did treat her ill and was ever jealously spying on her, -suspecting she was making him a set of horns: “Nay! he is too good,” -she would cry to her lover; “he thinks his fire is a match for mine. -Why! I do put his out in a turn of the hand, with four or five drops of -water. But for mine, which hath a very different depth of furnace, I do -need a flood. For we women be of our nature like dropsical folk or a -sandy ditch, which the more water they swallow, the more they want.” - -Another said yet better, how that a woman was like chickens, which do -get the pip and die thereof, if they be stinted of water and have not -enough to drink. A woman is the same, which doth breed the pip and -oft die thereof, if they are not frequently given to drink; only ’tis -something else than spring water it must have. Another fair lady was -used to say she was like a good garden, which not content with the rain -of heaven only, doth ask water of the gardener as well, to be made more -fruitful thereby. Another would say she would fain resemble those good -economists and excellent managers which do never give out all their -property to be guided and a profit earned to one agent alone, but do -divide it among several hands. One alone could not properly suffice to -get good value. After a similar fashion was she for managing herself, -to make the best thereof and for herself to reap the highest enjoyment. - -I have heard of yet another lady which had a most ill-favoured lover, -and a very handsome husband and of a good grace, the lady herself -being likewise very well-looking. One of her chiefest lady friends -and gossips remonstrating with her and asking why she did not choose -a handsomer lover, “Know you not,” she said, “that to cultivate well -a piece of land more than one labourer is wanted, and as a rule the -best-looking and most dainty be not the most meet workers, but the most -rustical and hardy?” Another lady I knew, which had a very ill-favoured -husband and of a very evil grace, did choose a lover as foul as he; and -when one of her friends did ask her the reason why, “’Tis the better,” -quoth she, “to accustom me to mine husband’s ugliness.” - -Yet another lady, discoursing one day of love, as well her own as that -of other fair ladies her companions, said: “An if women were alway -chaste, why! they would never know but one side of life,”—herein basing -on the doctrine of the Emperor Heliogabalus, who was used to declare, -“that one half of a man’s life should be employed in virtues, and the -other half in vices; else being always in one condition, either wholly -good or wholly bad, one could never judge of the opposite side at all, -which yet doth oft serve the better to attemper the first.” I have -known great personages to approve this maxim, and especially where -women were concerned. Again the wife of the Emperor Sigismund, who -was called Barba,[87*] was used to say that to be forever in one and -the same condition of chastity was a fool woman’s part, and did much -reprove her ladies, wives or maids, which did persist in this foolish -opinion, and most surely for her own part did very thoroughly repudiate -the same. For indeed all her pleasure lay but in feasts, dances, balls -and love-makings, and much mockery was for any which did not the like, -or which did fast to mortify the flesh, and were for following a quiet -life. I leave you to imagine if it went not well at the Court of this -Emperor and Empress,—I mean for all such, men and women, as take joy in -love’s pleasures. - -I have heard speak of a very honourable lady and of good repute, which -did fairly fall ill of the love which she bare her lover, yet did never -consent to risk the matter, because of this same high law of honour so -much insisted on and preached up of husbands. But seeing how day by day -she was more and more consumed away and burned up, in such wise that -in a twinkling she did behold herself wax dry, lean, and languishing, -and from being aforetime fresh, plump and in good case, now all changed -and altered, as her mirror informed her, she did at length cry: “Nay! -how shall it be said of me that in the flower of mine age, and at -the prompting of a mere frivolous point of honour and silly scruple -making me overmuch keep in my natural fire, I did thus come to dry up -and waste away, and grow old and ugly before my time, and lose all -the bloom of my beauty, which did erst make me valued and preferred -and loved. Instead of a fair lady of good flesh and bone I am become -a skeleton, a very anatomy, enough to make folk banish me and jeer at -me in any good company, a laughing-stock to all and sundry. No! I will -save me from such a fate; I will use the remedies I have in my power.” -And herewith, what she said, she did, and contenting her own and her -love’s desires, she soon gat back her flesh again and grew as fair as -before,—without her husband’s ever suspecting the remedy she had used, -but attributing the cure to the doctors, whom he did greatly honour and -warmly thank for having so restored his wife to health for his better -profit and enjoyment. - -I have heard speak of another great lady, one of a merry humour and a -pretty wit, to whom, being sick, her physician did one day declare how -that she would never be well, unless she changed her habits. Hereupon -she answered straight, “Well then! let us do it.” So the physician and -she did take one with the other joy of heart and body. One day she said -to him, “People all declare you do it for me; but there, ’tis all one, -as I am so much better. And all ever I can, I will go on doing it,—as -mine health doth depend on it.” - -These two dames last spoke of were quite unlike that honourable lady -of Pampeluna in Spain, whom I have already mentioned in a previous -passage, and who is described in the _Cent Nouvelles_ of the Queen of -Navarre. This lady, being madly in love with M. d’Avannes, did think -it better to hide her flame, and keep hid in her bosom the passion -that was consuming her, and die thereof, than lose her honour. But by -what I have heard sundry honourable lords and ladies say in discussing -the matter, she was a fool for her pains, and little regardful of her -soul’s salvation, seeing she did bring about her own death, it being in -her power to avoid this extremity, and all for a trifle. For in very -fact, as an old French proverb doth put it, “_D’une herbe de pré tondue -et d’un c... f..., le dommage est bientôt rendu._” And what is it, -when all is done? The business, once done, is like any other; what sign -is there of it to men’s eyes? Doth the lady walk any the less upright? -doth the world know aught? I mean of course when ’tis done in secret, -with closed doors, and no man by to see. I would much like to know -this, if many of the great ladies of mine own acquaintance, for ’tis -with such love doth most take up abode (as this same lady of Pampeluna -saith, ’tis at high portals that high winds do beat), if these do -therefore cease to walk abroad with proudly lifted head, whether at -this Court of France or elsewhere, and show them as unabashed as -ever a Bradamant or Marfisa of them all. And pray, who would be so -presumptuous as to ask them if they condescend to it? Even their -husband (I tell you), the most of them at any rate, would never dare to -charge them with it, so well do they understand the art of concealment -and the keeping of a confident show and carriage. But an if these same -husbands, any of them, do think to speak thereof and threaten them, -or punish them with harsh words or deeds, why! they be undone; for -then, even though before they had planned no ill against them, yet do -they straightway plot revenge and give them back as good as they have -gotten. For is there not an old proverb which saith, “When and so soon -as a husband doth beat his wife, her body doth laugh for joy”? That is -to say, it doth presently look for good times, knowing the natural bent -of its mistress, who unable to avenge her wrongs by other weapons, will -turn it to account as second and best ally, to pay her husband back -with her lover’s help, no matter what watch and ward the poor man keep -over her. - -For verily, to attain their end, the most sovran means they have is -to make their complaints to one another, or to their women and maids -of the chamber, and so win these over to get them new lovers, if they -have none, or an if they have, to convey these privily to places of -assignation; and ’tis they which do mount guard that neither husband -nor any other surprise them at it. Thus then do these ladies gain over -their maids and women, bribing them with presents and good promises. -In certain cases beside they do make agreement and composition with -these, on the terms that of all the lover may give their lady mistress, -the servant shall have the half or at least the third part thereof. -But the worst is, very often the mistresses do deceive their servants, -taking the whole for themselves, making excuse that their lover hath -given them no more than so small a share as that they have not enough -to spare aught for others. Thus do they hoax these poor wenches and -serving maids, albeit they stand sentinel and keep good watch. This is -a sore injustice; and I ween, were the case to be tried with proper -arguments pleaded on this side and that, ’twould afford occasion for -much merriment and shrewd debate. For ’tis verily theft, no less, -so to filch their benefices and emoluments duly agreed upon. Other -ladies there be however who do keep faithfully their promise and -compact, and hold back naught, for to be the better served and loyally -helped, herein copying those honest shop-keepers, who do render a just -proportion of the gain and profit of the talent their master or partner -hath entrusted them withal. And truly such dames do deserve to be right -well served, seeing they be duly grateful for the trouble, and good -watch and ward of their inferiors. And these last do run many risks -and perils,—as one I wot of, who keeping guard one day, the while her -mistress was with her lover and having merry times, both the twain -being right well occupied, was caught by the husband’s house-steward. -The man did chide her bitterly for what she was at, saying ’twere more -becoming for her had she been with her mistress than to be playing -procuress like this and standing sentinel outside her door. ’Twas a -foul trick she was playing her mistress’ husband, and he would go warn -him. However the lady did win him over by means of another of her -maids, of whom he was enamoured and who did promise him some favour at -her mistress’ prayers; beside, she did make him a present, and he was -at last appeased. Natheless she did never like him afterward, and kept -a shrewd eye on his doings; finally spying an opportunity and taking it -on the hop, she did get him dismissed by her husband. - -I wot of a fair and honourable lady,[88*] which did take a serving -maid of hers into great intimacy and high favour and friendship, -even allowing her much intimacy, having trained her well for such -intercourse. So free was she with her mistress that sometimes when she -did see this lady’s husband longtime absent from his house, engaged -either at Court or on some journey, oft would she gaze at her mistress -as she was dressing her, (and she was one of the most beautiful and -lovable women of her day), and presently remark: “Ah, me! is he not -ill-starred, Madam, that husband of yours, to possess so fair a wife, -and yet have to leave her thus all alone so long without ever setting -eyes on her? Doth he not deserve you should cuckold him outright? You -really ought; and if I were as handsome as you, I should do as much to -mine husband, if he tarried so much away.” I leave you to judge if -the lady and mistress of this serving maid did find this a tasty nut -to crack, especially finding as she did shoes all ready to her feet, -whereof she did after make good use, freely employing so handy an -instrument. - -Again, there be ladies which do make use of their serving maids to -help them hide their amours and prevent their husbands observing aught -amiss, and do give them charge of their lovers, to keep and hold them -as their own suitors, under this pretext to be able at any time to -say, if the husbands do find them in their wives’ chambers, that they -be there as paying court to such or such an one of their maids. So -under this cloak hath the lady a most excellent means of playing her -game, and the husband know naught at all about it. I knew a very great -Prince indeed which did set him to pay court to a lady of the wardrobe -to a great Princess, solely to find out the secret intrigues of her -mistress, and so the better gain success in that quarter. - -I have seen plenty of these tricks played in my lifetime, though not -altogether in the fashion followed by a certain honourable lady of -the world I once knew, which was so fortunate as to be loved of three -brave and gallant gentlemen, one after the other. These on quitting -her, did presently after love and serve a very great lady, whereon -she did very pleasantly and good-humouredly deliver herself to this -effect. ’Twas she, she said, who had so trained and fashioned them by -her excellent lessons, as that coming now into the service of the said -great Princess, they were exceeding well formed and educated. To rise -so high, she declared, ’twas very needful first to serve smaller folk, -in order not to fail with greater; for to arrive at any supreme degree -of skill, a man must needs mount first by small and low degrees, as is -seen in all arts and sciences. - -This did her great honour. Yet more deserving still was another I have -heard tell of, which was in the train of a great lady. This lady was -married, and being surprised by her husband in her chamber receiving -a little paper note or _billet doux_ from her lover, was right well -succoured by her subordinate. For this last, cleverly intercepting the -note, did swallow down the same at one gulp without making any bones -about it and without the husband perceiving aught, who would have -treated his wife very ill indeed, if he had once seen the inside. This -was a very noble piece of service, and one the great lady was always -grateful for. - -On the other hand I wot well of ladies which have found them in evil -case for having overmuch trusted their serving maids, and others again -for not having trusted them at all. I have heard speak of a fair and -honourable lady, who had taken and chose out a gentleman, one of the -bravest, most valiant and well accomplished of all France, to give the -same pleasure and delight of herself. She would never trust any one -of her women, and assignation being given in a friend’s house, it was -concerted and arranged there should be but one bed in the chamber, her -women all sleeping in the antechamber. As settled, so done. And as -there was a cat’s-hole in the door, which they had not remembered or -provided for till the moment, they bethought them to stop this with -a thin board, to the end that if any pushed it down, it would make a -rattle, which they would hear and could take measures accordingly. -One of her women, suspecting a snake in the grass, and angry and hurt -because her mistress had not confided in her, whom she had ever made -her chiefest confidante, and had given many proofs thereof, doth now -make up her mind, so soon as her mistress was to bed, to keep a look -out and listen at the door. She could hear quite well a low murmuring, -yet was sure ’twas not the reading aloud her mistress had for some days -indulged in in bed, with a candle, the better to dissemble what she was -going to do. Just as she was on the tip-toe of curiosity, to know more, -an excellent occasion did present itself most opportunely. For a kitten -happening to come into the room, she and her companions take the animal -and push it through the cat’s-hole into her mistress’ chamber, not of -course without knocking down the board that kept it closed and making -a clatter. At this the pair of lovers, sore startled, did suddenly sit -up in bed, and saw by the light of their candle ’twas only a cat that -had come in and knocked down the board. Wherefore without troubling -more about it, they laid them down again, seeing ’twas now late and -everybody presumably asleep, but never shut to again the cat’s-hole, -leaving the same open for the cat to go out again by, as they did not -care to have it shut up in their room all night long. Seizing so good -an opportunity, the said waiting maid and her companions had a fine -chance to see enough and to spare of their mistress’ doings. These they -did after reveal to the husband, whence came death for the lover, and -shame and disgrace for the lady. - -This is what doth come of despite and want of confidence shown -folk, which be often just as productive of ill consequences as -over-confidence. I have heard of a very great nobleman which was moved -one time to take all his wife’s waiting-maids (and she was a well-born -and very fair lady), and have them tortured to make them confess all -their misdeeds and the services they had rendered her in her amours. -However his first intent was carried no further, to avoid too horrible -a scandal. The first suggestion came from a lady whose name I will not -give, who had a grudge against the said great lady. For the which God -did punish her later. - - - - - [Illustration: Decorative scrollwork above chapter start] - - - - - ARTICLE II - - OF THE LOVE OF MAIDS - - - 1. - -So now, following the order of Boccaccio, our guide in this discourse, -I come next to maids. These, it must certainly be allowed, be of their -nature exceeding timid at first beginning, and dare in no wise yield -up what they hold so dear, spite of the constant persuasion and advice -their fathers, mothers, kinsfolk and mistresses do give them, along -with most moving threats. So it is that, though they should have all -the good will thereto in the world, yet they do deny themselves all -ever they can; beside they have ever before their eyes the terror lest -their bodies do play them false and betray them, else would they try -many a tasty morsel. Yet all have not this scrupulousness; for shutting -their eyes to all reflection, some do rush boldly into it,—not indeed -with head down, but rather thrown well back. Herein do they make a sore -mistake, seeing how terrible is the scandal of a maid deflowered, and -of a thousandfold more import than for married woman or widow. For a -maid, this treasure of hers once lost, is made the object of endless -scandal and abuse, is pointed at by all men, and doth lose many a good -opportunity of marriage. For all this, I have known not a few cases -where some rough fellow or other hath been found, either willingly, or -of sudden caprice, knowingly or unwittingly, on compulsion, to go throw -himself into the breach, and marry them, as I have described elsewhere, -all tarnished as they were, but right glad to get them churched after -all. - -Many such of either sex have I known in my day, and in especial one -maid which did most shamefully let herself be got with child by a great -Prince,[89*] and that without an attempt at hiding or dissembling her -condition. On being discovered, all she said was this: “What was I -to do? ’tis not my frailty you must blame, nor my lustfulness, but -only my over heedlessness and lack of foresight. For an if I had been -as clever and knowing as the most part of my companions, which have -done just as ill as I, or even worse, but have had wit enough to cure -their pregnancy or conceal their lying-in, I should not now be in this -strait, nor had any known a word about it.” Her companions did for this -word wish her mighty ill; and she was accordingly expelled the band -by her mistress, albeit ’twas reported this same mistress had ordered -her to yield to the wishes of the Prince, wishing to get an hold over -him and win him to herself. For all this, however, the girl failed not -some while after to make a good match and contract a rich marriage, and -presently give birth to a noble offspring. Thus we see, an if the poor -child had been as wily as her comrades and other girls, this luck had -never been hers. And truly in my day I have seen mere girls as clever -and expert in these matters as ever the oldest married woman, nay! -going so far as to be most effective and experienced procuresses, and -not content with their own satisfaction only, to be after contriving -the same delights for others to boot. - -’Twas a lady in waiting at the French Court which did invent and have -performed that fine Comedy entitled the _Paradis d’Amour_ (Paradise of -Love) in the Salle de Bourbon with closed doors, at which performance -were none but actors and actresses present, forming players and -audience both together. Such as do know the story will know what I -mean. The play had six characters, three male and three female. Of -these one was a Prince, who had his fair one, a great lady, though -not too great neither, yet did he love her dearly; the second was a -Lord, who did intrigue with the great Lady, a lady very liberal of her -favours; the third was a simple gentleman, who did carry on with the -maid, whom he did marry later. For the gallant authoress was fain to -see her own character represented on the stage no less than the rest! -Indeed ’tis ever so with the author of a Comedy; he doth put himself -in the play, or else in the prologue. And so did this one, and on my -faith, girl as she was, did play the part as well as the married women, -if not better. The fact is she had seen more of the world than just her -own country, and as the Spaniards say _rafinada en Secobia_,—had had -a Segovia polish or fining. This is a proverb in Spain, Segovia being -where the best cloths are fined. - -I have heard tales told of many maids, who while serving their lady -mistresses as _Dariolettes_, or confidantes, have been fain to taste -and try the same dainties. Such ladies moreover be often slaves in -their own women’s hands, from dread of their discovering them and -publishing abroad their amours, as I have noted above. ’Twas a lady in -waiting who did one day tell me her opinion,—that ’twas a mighty piece -of folly for maids to sacrifice their honour to their passions, and -while some silly creatures were restrained therefrom by their scruples, -for herself she would not deign to do it, the whole thing ending in -mere shame and disgrace. On the other hand the trick of keeping one’s -affair privy and secret made all right, and girls were mere fools and -unfit for this wicked world which cannot help themselves and manage the -thing quietly. - -A Spanish lady, thinking her daughter was afraid of the violence of -the first wedding night, went to her and began to encourage her and -persuade her ’twas naught at all and she would feel no pain, adding -that herself would be right glad to be in her place the better to show -her how to bear it. To this the girl replied, _Bezo las manos, señora -madre, de tal merced, que bien la tomaré yo por mi_,—“Much thanks, -my lady mother, for your kind offer, but I will manage very well by -myself.” - -I have heard a merry tale of a girl of very high birth, who had -contrived to afford herself much pleasure in her life so far, and whom -her family now spake of marrying in Spain. One of her most special and -privy friends said one day to her, by way of jest, how surprised he was -to find that she, which had so dearly loved the _rising_ quarter, was -now about to travel toward the setting or western, because Spain lies -to the westward. To this the lady made answer, “Truly, I have heard -mariners say, men that have travelled far, how that the navigation of -the rising quarter is right pleasant and agreeable; and indeed myself -have steered many a time thither by the compass I do alway carry on -me. So I will take advantage of this same instrument, when I am -in the land of the setting sun, yet to hie away me straight to the -rising.” Judicious commentators will find it easy enough to interpret -the allegory and make a shrewd guess at what I point to. I leave you -to judge by these words whether the damsel had invariably limited her -reading to the “hours” of Our Lady, and none other. - -Another damsel I have heard of, and could give her name, who hearing -of the wonders of the city of Venice, its singular beauties and -the liberties there enjoyed of all, and especially of harlots and -courtesans, did exclaim to one of her bosom friends, “I would to God -we had despatched thither all our wealth by letter of credit, and were -there arrived ourselves for to lead the gay and happy existence of -its courtesans, a life none other can come near, even though we were -Empresses of all the whole world!” Truly a good wish and an excellent! -And in very deed I opine they that be fain of such a life could hardly -dwell in a better spot. - -No less do I admire another wish, expressed by a lady of former days. -She was questioning a poor slave escaped from the Turks as to the -tortures and sufferings these did inflict on him and other unhappy -Christian captives, who did tell her enough and to spare of cruelties -so inflicted of every sort and kind. Presently she did ask him what -they did to women. “Alas and alas! Madam,” said he, “they do it to -them, and go on doing it, till they die.”—“Well! I would to God,” she -cried, “I might die so, a martyr to the faith.” - -Three great Ladies, of whom one was a maid, being together one day, as -I am told, did begin telling their wishes. One said, “I would fain have -an apple-tree that should bear every year as many golden apples as -it doth common fruit.” The second, “I would have a meadow that should -yield me jewels and precious stones as many as it doth flowers.” The -third, which was a maid, “And I would choose a dovecote, whereof the -openings should be worth as much to me as such and such a lady’s coop, -such and such a great King’s favourite, whose name I will not speak; -only I should like mine to be visited of more pigeons than is hers.” - -These dames were of a different complexion from a certain Spanish lady, -whose life is writ in the History of Spain, and who, one day when -Alfonzo the Great, King of Aragon, made a state entry into Saragossa, -threw herself on her knees before his Majesty to ask justice of him. -The King signifying his willingness to hear her, she did ask to speak -to him in private, and he did grant her this favour. Hereupon she laid -a complaint against her husband, for that he would lie with her two and -thirty times a month, by day no less than a-nights, in such wise that -he gave her never a minute of rest or respite. So the King did send for -the husband and learned of him ’twas true, the man deeming he could not -be in the wrong seeing it was his own wife; then the King’s council -being summoned to deliberate on the matter, his Majesty did issue -decree and ordered that he should touch her but six times,—not without -expressing his much marvel at the exceeding heat and puissance of the -fellow, and the extraordinary coldness and continence of the wife, so -opposite to the natural bent of other women (so saith the story), which -be ever ready to clasp hands and beseech their husbands or other men to -give them enough of it, and do make sore complaint an if these do give -to others what is their share by rights. - -Very different from this last was another lady, a young girl of a good -house, who the day after her wedding, recounting over to her companions -her adventures in the night just done, “What!” cried she, “and is that -all? For all I had heard some of you say, and other women, and men -to boot, which do boast them so bold and gallant, and promise such -mountains of wondrous deeds, why! o’ my faith, friends and comrades -mine, the man (meaning her husband), that made himself out so hot a -lover and valiant a wight, and so fine a runner at the ring, did run -but four all counted,—as it were the regular three for the ring and -one for the ladies.” We can but suppose, as she made such complaint of -scanty measure, she would fain have had a round dozen to her share; but -everyone is not like the Spanish gentleman of our last story. - -This is how they do make mock of their husbands. So one, who when -just wed on her first marriage night, did play the prude and was for -obstinately resisting her husband. But he did bethink him to declare -that, and if he had to take his big dagger, ’twould be another game -altogether, and she would have something to cry out for; whereat the -child, fearing the big weapon he did threaten her withal, did yield her -instantly to his wishes. But next time, she was no longer afeared, and -not content with the little one, did ask at first go off for the big -one he had threatened her with the night before. To which the husband -replied he had never a big one, and had said so but in jest; so she -must e’en be satisfied with what little provision he had about him. -Then she cried, “Nay! ’tis very ill done, so to make mock of poor, -simple maids!” I wot not whether we should call this damsel simple and -ignorant, and not rather knowing and artful, as having tried the thing -before. I do refer the question to the learned for decision. - -Bien plus estait simple une autre fille, laquelle s’estant plaincte à -la justice que un gallant l’ayant prise par force, et lui enquis sur -ce fait, il respondit: “Messieurs, je m’en rapporte à elle s’il est -orai, et si elle i’a pris mon cas et l’a mis de sa main propre dans lie -sien.—Ha! Messieurs, (dit la fille) il est bien orai cela, mais qu’il -ne l’enst fait? Car, amprés qu’il m’ent couchée et trousée, il me mit -sou cas roide et poinctu comme un baston contre la ventre, et m’en -domisit de si grands coups que j’ens peur qu’il me le percast et m’y -fist im trou. Dame! je lui pris ahers et le mis dans le tron qui estoit -tout fait.” Si cette fille estoit simplette, on le contrefaisoit, j -m’en rapporte.[90*] - -I will now tell a couple of stories of two married women, of as -great a simplicity as the last,—or, if you prefer it so, of as great -artfulness. The first was a very great lady of mine acquaintance, a -very fine woman and much sought after for this reason. One day a very -great Prince did make offers to her, pressing her right eagerly and -promising her very fine and most advantageous conditions, rank and -riches without end for herself and her husband, so much so that she did -hearken at first and give a willing ear to such seductive temptations. -However she would not right off consent, but in her simplicity as a new -made wife, knowing naught of the wicked world, she did come and reveal -the whole matter to her husband, asking his advice whether she should -do it or no. The husband firing up instantly, cried, “Never, never, -by God! little wife; what are you talking about, what would you be at? -’Tis a foul deed, an irreparable stain on both of us!”—“But, Sir,” -returned the lady, “we shall both be such grand folk, no one will have -a word to say against us.” In a word the husband did refuse absolutely; -but the lady, beginning presently to pluck up a spirit and understand -the world, was loath to lose the chance, and did take her fling with -the said Prince and others beside, quite forgetting her erstwhile -simpleness. I have heard the story told by one which had it of the -Prince in question. The lady too had confided it to him; and he had -chid her, counselling her that in such affairs one should never consult -the husband, who was of necessity a prejudiced party. - -Not less simple-minded, or very little, was another young married -dame I have heard of, to whom one day an honourable gentleman did -proffer his love, at the husband’s very elbow, who for the moment -was holding discourse with another lady. The suitor did suddenly put -_son instrument entre les mains. Elle le prit et, le serrant fort -étroitement et se tournant vers son mari, lui dit: “Mon mari, voyez le -beau présent que me fait ce gentilhomme; le recevraije? dites-le-moi.” -Le pauvre gentilhomme, étonné, retire à soi son épervier de si grande -rudesse que, recontrant une pointe de diamant qu’elle avait au doigt, -le lui esserta de telle façon d’un bout à l’autre qu’elle le crut -perdre du tout_, and suffered very great pain and even came in danger -of his life. He rushed frantically from the room, watering all the -place with his gore which flowed in torrents. The husband made no ado -about running after him to utter any recriminations on the matter; all -he did was to burst out a-laughing heartily, at once at the simplicity -of his poor little wife, and because the fellow was so soundly punished. - -Well! here is a village story I must needs tell, for ’tis not a bad -one. A village wench, as they were leading her to church on her -wedding-day to the sound of tabor and flute, and with much rustic -ceremony, chancing to catch sight of her girlhood’s lover, did shout -out these words to him, “Farewell, Pierre, farewell! I’ve got.... -You’ll never give it me any more. My mother’s married me now,”—blurting -the word right out. Her simplicity was no less admirable than the soft -regret she showed for past days. - -One more, as we are on village tales. A pretty young girl took a -load of wood to sell at the market town. Asked how much, she kept -continually raising her price at each offer made her by the dealers. -“You shall have so much,” they cried, “and something else into the -bargain.”—“’Tis well said,” she cried, “and thank you! you’re the very -man.” - -Right simple-minded wenches these, and very different, they and their -like, (for there be plenty such), from a whole host of others in this -wicked world, which be far more double-dealing and knowing than these, -never asking counsel of their husbands nor never showing them such -presents as they may get. - -I heard an anecdote once in Spain of a young girl who the first night -after her marriage, as her husband was struggling and sweating sore -and hurting himself in his attempts, did set up a laugh and tell him, -_Señor, bien es razon que seays martyr, pues que io soy virgen; mas -pues que io tomo la paciencia, bien la podeys tomar_,—“Sir, ’tis but -right you should be a martyr, since I am a virgin; but as I am so -patient, you must be patient too.” Thus in revenge of his making fun -of his wife, did she make fine fun of him. And in good sooth many a -girl hath good cause to make mock at such a time, especially when they -have learned afore what it all is, or have been informed of others, or -have themselves dreamed and pictured out this mighty moment of delight, -which they do suppose so great and lasting. - -Another Spanish bride, telling over next morning her husband’s merits, -found several to praise, “only” she added, “_que no era buen contador -aritmetico, porque no sabia multiplicar_,—that he was not a good -arithmetician at all, for he couldn’t multiply.” - -Another young maid of good birth and family (one myself have known -and talked with), on her wedding night, when all the company were -listening outside the door according to custom, and the husband had -just given her the first embrace, and as he did rest a while, though -not yet asleep, asked her if she would like some more of the same, “An -if it please you, Sir!” she said. Imagine the gallant bridegroom’s -astonishment at such an answer, and how he must have rubbed his ears. - -Maids which do say such tricky things so readily and so soon after -marriage, may well rouse strange suspicions in their poor husbands’ -breasts, and lead them to suppose they be not the first that have -dropped anchor in their bay, nor will be the last so to do. For we -cannot doubt, an if a man do not strive hard and nigh kill himself to -work well his wife, she will soon bethink her of giving him a pair of -pretty horns, or as an old French proverb put it, - - Et qui ne la contente pas, - Va ailleurs chercher son repas. - -Yet when a woman doth get all ever she can out of a man, she doth knock -him clean over, just doing him to death. ’Tis an old saying: A woman -should not take of a lover all she would have, but must spare him what -she can; not so with an husband, him she should drain to the very -bones. And this is why, as the Spanish saw hath it, _que el primero -pensamiento de la muger, luego que es casada, es de embiudarse_.—“A -married woman’s first thought is to contrive to make herself a widow.” -This saying is not universally true, as I do hope to show in another -place; it doth only apply to some women, and not all. - -Some girls there be which, when no longer able to restrain themselves, -be ready to give themselves only to Princes and great Lords, folk -very meet to stir their passion, both by reason of their gracious -condescension and the fine presents they make, as well as for love -of their good looks and pretty ways, for indeed all is fine and -point-device, though they may be silly coxcombs and no more, as myself -have seen some. Other girls again do not seek after such at all, but -do rather avoid them all they can, because they have something of -a repute for being scandal-mongers, great boasters, indiscreet and -garrulous. They do prefer instead simple gentlemen of prudent and -discreet complexion, but alas! the number of such is very small. Happy -she who doth meet with such an one! To avoid all these inconveniences, -girls do choose, (at least some do) their men-servants, some being -handsome men, some not,—and I have myself known ladies which have acted -so. Nor doth it take much urgency to persuade the fellows; for putting -them to bed and getting them up as they do, undressing them, putting -their foot-gear on and off, and even changing their shifts,—and I have -seen many young girls at Court and elsewhere which did make no sort of -difficulty or scruple about all this,—seeing so many pretty sights as -they must, they cannot but feel temptation. And I ween some of their -mistresses do of set purpose let them see their charms freely. The end -can only be that, when the eyes have done their office, other senses be -presently called in to execute theirs. - -I knew once a fair damsel of the great world, a beauty if ever there -was one, which did make her man-servant share her with a great Prince, -who kept her as his mistress and supposed he was the only happy -possessor of her favours. But herein the valet marched step by step -with him; and indeed she had made no ill choice, so handsome a man was -he and of so fine a figure; indeed, no difference was to be noted. In -fact the valet did have the advantage of the Prince in many beauties -of person; and the latter knew never a word about the intimacy till he -finally quitted the lady on his marriage. Nor did he for this treat -the man any the worse, but was always glad to see him; and whenever he -caught sight of him in passing, he would merely cry, “Is it possible -now this fellow was my rival? Well, well! I can quite believe it, for -barring my rank, he hath the better of me otherwise.” He bore the same -name as the Prince, and was a most excellent tailor, one of the most -famous at Court. There was hardly a woman there, single or married, -but he did dress them, when they were for exquisite costumes. I cannot -tell whether he was used to dress them in the same fashion he dressed -his mistress, but they were invariably well put on. - -I knew once a young girl of a good house, which had a boy lackey of -only fourteen, whom she had made her fool and plaything. Amid their -plays and foolings, she did make no kind of difficulty whatever to let -him kiss her, as privily as it had been only a woman,—and this very -often before company, excusing it all by saying he was her pretty fool -and little playmate. I wot not whether he went further, but I do know -that afterward, as wife and widow, and wife once more, she was ever a -most notable whore. Remember how she did kindle her match at this first -fire, so that she did never after lack flame in any of her later and -greater passions and escapades. I had tarried a good year before I saw -this lady; but when I did behold her at home and with her mother, who -had the repute of being one of the most accomplished of sham prudes of -her day, laughing and making light of the whole thing, I did foresee in -a moment how this little game would lead to a more serious one, and one -played in downright earnest, and that the damsel would one day grow a -very glutton at it, as was afterward the case. - -I knew two sisters of a very good old family in Poitou, and both -unmarried, of whom strange tales were told, and particularly with -regard to a tall Basque footman of their father’s. This fellow, under -pretext of his fine dancing, (for he could dance not only his native -_brawls_, but all the other dances as well), would commonly take them -out to dance and teach them the steps and be partner to them. Later he -did teach them the harlot’s reel, and they gat themselves finely talked -about. Still they found no difficulty in getting husbands, for they -were very wealthy folk; and this word wealth covereth up all defects, -so as men will pick up anything, no matter how hot and scalding. I knew -the said Basque afterward as a good soldier and brave man, and one that -showed he had had some training. He was dismissed his place, to avoid -scandal, and became a soldier in the Guard in M. d’Estrozze’s regiment. - -I knew likewise another great house, and a noble, the lady mistress -whereof did devote herself to bringing up young maids of birth in her -household, amongst others sundry kinswomen of her husband’s. Now the -lady being very sickly and a slave to doctors and apothecaries, there -was always plenty of these to be found thereabouts. Moreover young -girls be subject to frequent sicknesses, such as pallors, anæmia, -fevers and the like, and it so happened two of them fell ill of a -quartan ague, and were put under the charge of an apothecary to cure -them. And he did dose them well with his usual drugs and medicines; -but the best of all his remedies was this, that he did sleep with one -of them,—the presumptuous villain, for he had to do with as fair and -honourable a maid as any in France, and one a great King had been well -content to enjoy; yet must Master Apothecary have his will of her. - -Myself knew the damsel, who did certainly deserve a better lover. She -was married later, and given out for virgin,—and virgin she was found -to be. Herein did she show her cunning to some purpose; for _car, -puisqu’elle ne pouvait tenir son eau, elle s’adressa à celui qui -donnait les antidotes pour engarder d’engrosser, car c’est ce que les -filles craignent le plus: dont en cela il y en a de si experts qui leur -donnent des drogues qui les engardent très bien d’engrosser; ou bien, -si elles engrossent, leur font écouler leur grossesse so subtilement et -si sagement que jamais on ne s’en aperçoit, et n’en sent-on rien que le -vent_. - -_Ainsi que j’en ai ouï parler d’une fille, laquelle avait été autrefois -nourrie fille de la feue reine de Navarre Marguerite. Elle vint par -cas fortunt, ou à engrosser sans qu’elle y pensât pourtant. Elle -rencontra un rusé apothicaire, qui, lui ayant donné un breuvage, lui -fit évader son fruit, qui avait déjà six mois, pièce par pièce, morceau -par morceau, si aisément, qu’étant en ses affaires jamais elle n’en -sentit ni mal ni douleur; et puis après se maria galamment, sans que -le mari y connut aucune trace; car on leur donne des remèdes pour se -faire paraître vierges et pucelles comme auparavant, ainsi que j’en -ai allégué un au_ DISCOUPS DES COCUS. _Et un que j’en ouï dire à un -empirique ces jours passés, qu’il faut avoir des sangsues et les -mettre à la nature, et faire par là tirer et sucer le sang: lesquelles -sangsues, en suçant, laisent et engendrent de petites ampoules et -fistules pleines de sang; si bien que le galant mari, qui vient le -soir des noces les assaillir, leur crève ces ampoules d’où le sang -sort, et lui et elle s’ensanglantent, qui est une grande joie à l’un -et à l’autre; et par ainsi,_ l’honor della citella è salva. _Je trouve -ce remède plus souverain que l’autre, s’il est vrai; et s’ils ne sont -bons tous deux, il y en a cent autres qui sont meilleurs, ainsi que -le savent très bien ordonner, inventer et appliquer ces messieurs les -médecins savants et experts apothicaires. Violà pourquoi ces messieurs -ont ordinairement de très belles et bonnes fortunes, car ils savent -blesser et remédier, ainsi qui fit la lance de Pélias._ - -Myself knew the Apothecary I spake of but now, as to whom I will add -only one word more in passing,—how I saw him at Geneva the first time I -did visit Italy, for at that time the common road for French travellers -thither was by Switzerland and the Grisons, because of the wars then -raging. He came to see me at my lodging. Of a sudden I did ask him what -he was doing in that town, and whether he was there to medicine pretty -girls, the same as he had done in France. He answered me he was there -to repent of such misdoings. “What!” said I, “you have not such dainty -bits to taste here as you had there?”—“Ah! Sir,” he replied, “’tis -because God hath called me, and I am enlightened of his spirit, and I -have now knowledge of his Holy Word.”—“Yes! yes!” I went on, “in those -days too you were a pious Protestant, and did combine medicine for the -body and for the soul, preaching to the girls and giving them some fine -instruction.”—“But, my dear Sir, I do know my God better these days,” -he returned again, “than then, and would fain sin no more.” I need not -repeat much other discourse we had on this subject, both seriously and -in jest; but the impudent scamp did certainly enjoy that pretty bit of -flesh, more meet for some gallant gentleman than for such as he. It -was as well for him he did quit that house pretty smartly; else had he -fared ill. However, enough of this. Cursed be the fellow, for the hate -and envy I do bear him,—as did M. de Ronsard to a physician which was -used to come night and morning rather to see the poet’s mistress, and -feel her breasts and bosom and rounded arm, than to medicine her for -the fever she had. He writ a very charming sonnet on the subject; ’tis -in the second book of his _Amours_, and begins thus: - - Hé que je porte et de hayne et d’envie - Au médecin qui vient et matin, - Sans nul propos, tastonner le tétin, - Le sein, le ventre et les flancs de ma mye. - -I do bear a like fierce jealousy against a physician which did -similarly toward a fair and noble lady I was enamoured of,[91*] and -from whom I never gat any such privileges and familiarities, though -I had loved them better than the winning of a little kingdom. These -gentry are for sure exceeding agreeable to dames and damsels, and do -have fine adventures with them, an if they seek after such. I have -known two physicians at Court, one M. Castellan, physician to the Queen -Mother, the other the Seigneur Cabrian, physician to M. de Nevers, and -who had held the same office with Ferdinand de Gonzague. Both have -enjoyed successes with women, by all one hears, that the greatest -noblemen at Court would have sold their souls to the devil for to have -gone shares with them. - -We were discoursing one day, the late Baron de Vitaux and myself, with -M. Le Grand, a famous physician of Paris, a man of agreeable manners -and excellent counsel, he having come to visit the said Baron, who -was ill of some amorous indiscretion. Both of us questioning him on -sundry little ways and peculiarities of the ladies, he did entertain -us finely, and told us a round dozen of tales that did verily take the -prize. So engrossed did he grow herewith, that, nine o’clock striking, -he cried, getting up from the chair where he was seated: “Truly, I am a -greater simpleton than you two, which have kept me here two good hours -chattering with you rascals, and all the while I have been forgetting -six or seven sick folk I am bound to go visit.” So with a word of -farewell, he doth hie him away, though not without a further last word -in reply to us, when we called after him: “Rascal yourself, Doctor! Oh! -you doctors know some fine things and do ’em too, and you especially, -for you talk like a past master of the art.” He answered us, looking -down, “True enough, true enough! we both know and do some fine doings, -for we do possess sundry secrets not open to all the world. But I’m -an old man now, and have bid a long farewell to Venus and her boy. -Nowadays I leave all this to you younger rascals.” - - - 2. - -We read in the life of St. Louis, in the History of Paulus Aemilius, of -a certain Marguerite, Countess of Flanders, sister of Jeanne, daughter -of Baldwin I., Emperor of the Greeks, and his successor, seeing she -had no children,—so says History. She was given in her early girlhood -a teacher named Guillaume, a man esteemed of an holy life and who had -already taken minor orders. Yet did this in no wise hinder him to get -two children of his fair pupil, which were christened Baldwin and John, -and all so privily as that few folk knew aught of the matter. The two -boys were later declared legitimate by the Pope. What fine teaching, -and what a teacher! So much for History. - -I knew a great Lady at Court which had the repute of being over -familiar with her reader and teacher,—so much so indeed that one day -Chicot, the King’s jester,[92*] did openly reproach her therewith in -presence of his Majesty and many other personages of the Court, asking -her if she were not ashamed to have herself loved (saying the word -right out) of so ugly and base a loon as yonder fellow, and if she -had not wit to choose a better man. The company hereon began to laugh -uproariously and the lady to weep, supposing that the King had abetted -the game; for strokes of the sort were quite in character with his -usual play. Other very great ladies and high Princesses I have known, -which every day would amuse themselves with making their Secretaries, -whom I have likewise known, write, or rather pretend to write, and have -fine games. Or if they did not call for them to write, having naught to -say, then would they make them read aloud, for to give a better colour -to the whole thing, declaring how reading themselves did weaken their -sight. - -Great ladies which do make choice of suchlike paramours be quite -inexcusable and most blameworthy, seeing they have their liberty of -action, and full freedom and opportunity to choose whom they will. But -poor girls which be abject slaves of father and mother, kinsfolk and -guardians and mistresses, and timid to boot, are constrained to pick up -any stone they can find for their purpose, never thinking whether it -be cold or hot, roast or boiled. And so, according as occasion offer, -they do generally resort to their men-servants, to their school-master -and teacher, to fellows of the artist craft, lute-players, fiddlers, -dancing masters, painters, in a word their different instructors in -knowledge and accomplishments, and even sometimes preachers of religion -and holy monks, as Boccaccio doth describe and the Queen of Navarre -in her _Nouvelles_. The like is done by pages, as myself have noted, -lackeys, and especially stage-players, with whom I have known two maids -of honour desperately in love and not scrupling to indulge the same. -Poets too I have known in some cases to have debauched fair maids, -wives and widows. - -These do fondly love to be praised and worshipped, and with this bait -are caught, as indeed by almost any they do find convenient and can -attract to them. Lawyers again be very dangerous folk in these matters. - -Now note why ’tis Boccaccio and other writers with him do find maids -to be more constant in love and more steadfast than wives or widows. -’Tis because they do resemble persons afloat on a river in a sinking -boat. They that cannot swim at all do spring at the first branches -they can catch hold of, and do grasp these firmly and obstinately till -they see help arrive. Others that can swim, do leap into the water and -strike out boldly till they have reached the bank. Even so young maids, -whenas they have gotten a lover, do hold and keep him steadfastly, the -one they have first chose, and will in no wise let him go, but love -him steadfastly. This cometh of the dread that, having no free choice -and proper opportunity, they may not be able, an if they lose him, to -get another such as they would wish. Whereas married women and widows, -which do know the wiles of love and are well experienced, and have full -liberty and all convenience to swim in all waters without danger, may -choose what mate they please; and if they weary of one lover or lose -him, why! they can straight get another, or even take two. For with -them ’tis ever a case of “one lost, two got back.” - -Beside, young girls have not the means, the money and crown-pieces, -to win them new lovers every day; for all ever they can give their -lovers is some small gift of a lock of hair, a little seed pearl -or so, a bracelet, a small ring or a scarf, or other insignificant -presents that cost almost naught. For high-born as a girl may be (I -have seen it myself), and no matter of how great an house and how -rich an heiress, she is kept so short of money, by father, mother, -kinsfolk or guardians, as the case may be, that she simply hath not -the means to give much to her lover, nor scarce ever to untie her -purse widely,—unless it be her purse in front. Besides, girls be of -themselves miserly, if for no other reason, yet because they be forced -to it, having scarce any means of extravagance; for generosity in -giving doth rest and depend above all on the ability to gratify it. On -the contrary wives and widows can dispose of their wealth very freely, -when they have any; and above all, when they have fancied a man, and -be taken with passion and caprice for him, there is naught they will -not sell and give away to the very shift on their back, rather than not -have enjoyment of him. Herein they are just like gluttons and folk that -be slaves of their mouths, who taking a fancy to a tid-bit, must have -the same, no matter what it cost them at the market. Poor maids be in -quite other case; whatsoever they can get, be it good or bad, this must -they stop and buy. - -I could bring forward a whole host of their intrigues, and their divers -appetites and curious preferences. But I should never get me done at -that rate; beside what would such tales be worth, unless the subjects -were given by name and surname. But this is a thing I will not do at -any price, for I desire to bring shame on no woman; and I have made -profession to avoid in this my book all evil-speaking whatsoever, -so that none may have aught to reproach me with on the score of -scandal-mongering. However to tell my tales, suppressing the names, -in this can be no harm. I do leave my readers to guess the persons -intended; and many a time they will suppose it to be one, though all -the while ’tis quite another. - - - 3. - -Now just as we do see different sorts of wood of such different nature, -that some will burn when quite green, as the ash and the beech, but -others, be they as dry, old and well seasoned as you please, for -instance the elm, the alder and others, do burn only as slowly and -tediously as possible, while many others, following the general nature -of all dry and old wood, do blaze up in their dryness and oldness so -rapidly and suddenly ’tis rather a destroying and instant reducing -to ashes than burning proper, so is the like true of women, whether -maids, wives or widows. Some, so soon as ever they be come to the first -greenness of their age, do burn so easily and well, you would say from -their very mother’s womb they do draw thence an amorousness; as did the -fair Laïs from her fair mother Tymandra, that most famous harlot, and -an hundred thousand others which herein do take after the good whores -their mothers. Nay! sometimes they do not so much as wait for the age -of maturity, that may be put at twelve or thirteen, to begin loving, -but are at it sooner yet. This happened not twelve years agone at Paris -to a pastry-cook’s child, which was discovered to be pregnant at nine -years of age.[93] The girl being very sick with her pregnancy, and her -father having taken a specimen of her urine to a physician, the latter -said at once she had no other sickness but only that she was with -child. “What!” cried the father; “Why, Sir! my daughter is only nine -years old.” Who so astonished as the doctor? “’Tis all one,” said he; -“of a surety, she is with child.” And after examining her more closely, -he did indeed find her so. The child afterward confessing with whom she -had had to do, her gallant was condemned to death by the judges, for -having gone with her at so very tender an age. I much regret I have -come to give this example and mention the thing here, seeing I had made -up my mind not to sully my paper with suchlike mean folk, but to deal -only with great and well-born persons. - -Herein I have somewhat gone wide of my purpose, but the story being so -rare and uncommon, I must e’en be excused. - -This doth remind me of a tale of a brave and gallant Lord if ever -there was one, since dead, which was one day making complaint of the -amplitude of women’s affairs with whom he had had to do, as well -maids as married ladies. He declared ’twould come to his having to -look for mere children, just come from the cradle so to speak, so as -not to find so wide a space of open sea as he had done with the rest, -but get better pleasure by swimming in a narrow strait. An if he had -addressed these words to a certain great and honourable dame I do know, -she would have made him the same answer she did to another gentleman -of the great world, to whom, on his making a like complaint, she did -retort thus: “I wot not which hath better cause of complaint, you men -of our width and over amplitude, or we women of your tenuity and over -smallness, or rather your tiny, tiny littleness; truly we have as much -to lament in you as ever you in us.” - -The lady was right enough in what she said. Similarly another great -lady, one day at Court looking curiously at the great bronze Hercules -in the fountain at Fontainebleau, as she was a-walking with an -honourable gentleman which did escort her, his hand beneath her arm, -did complain that the said Hercules, albeit excellently well wrought -and figured otherwise, was not so well proportioned in all his members -as should be, forasmuch as his middle parts were far too small and out -of proper measure, in no wise corresponding to his huge colossus of a -body. The gentleman replied he did not agree with what she said, for -’twas to be supposed that in those days ladies were not so wide as at -the present. - -A very great lady and noble Princess[94] learning how that certain folk -had given her name to a huge great culverin, did ask the reason why. -Whereupon one present answered: “’Tis for this, Madam, because it hath -a calibre greater and wider than all the rest.” - -_Si est-ce pourtant qu’elles y ont trouvé assez de remède, et en -trouvent tous les jours assez pour rendre leurs portes plus étroites, -carrées et plus malaisées d’entrée; dont aucunes en usent, et d’autres -non; mais nonobstant, quand le chemin y est bien battu et frayé souvent -par continuelle habitation et fréquentation, ou passages d’enfants, les -ouvertures de plusieurs en sont toujours plus grandes et plus larges. -Je me suis là un peu perdu et dévoyé; mais puisque ç’a été à propos il -n’y a point de mal, et je retourne à mon chemin._ - -Many other young girls there be which let safely pass this early, -tender, sappy time of life, waiting a greater maturity and dryness, -whether because they be naturally cold at first beginning and start, -or that they be kept close guarded, as is very needful with some. -Others there be so steadfast, the winds and tempests of winter would -avail naught to shake or stir them. Others again be so foolish and -simple-minded, so raw and ignorant, as that they would not so much as -hear the name of love. So have I heard of a woman which did affect the -virtuous prude, that an if she did hear the word harlot mentioned, she -would instantly faint. A friend telling this story to a certain great -Lord in presence of his wife, the latter did exclaim: “She’d better not -come here, that woman; for if she doth faint to hear speak of whores, -she’ll die right out to see one.” - -On the other hand there be some girls which from the first moment -they begin to feel they have a heart, grow so tame they will eat from -the hand at once. Others be so devout and scrupulous, fearing so sore -the commandments of the Lord our God, that they do quite neglect -that of love. Yet have I seen many of these same devout patterers of -prayers, these women that be forever a-kissing of images and all but -living in churches, which did under this hypocritical veil cover and -conceal the fire of their passions, to the end that by such false and -feigned semblance the world might perceive never a trace of them, -but deem them perfect prudes, or even half way to being saints like -St. Catherine of Sienna, by the which professions they have often -succeeded in deceiving all mankind. Thus have I heard it related of a -very great Princess, a Queen indeed, now dead, who when she was fain -to make love to any man, (for she was exceeding given that way), would -invariably begin her conversation with the love we do owe to God, and -then suddenly bring it round to carnal love, and what she did want of -her interlocutor, whereof she did before long come to the practice or -quintessential part. This is how these devotees, or bigots rather, do -cajole us men; such of us that is as be not well versed in wiles of the -sort and know not life. - -I have heard a tale, though I wot not if it be true. Anyway of late -years, on occasion of a general procession at a certain city, was seen -a woman, well born or not, bare-footed and in great contrition, playing -the penitent with might and main,—and it was in Lent. Straight from -there she hied her away to dine with her lover on a quarter of kid and -a ham. The savour did penetrate to the street, and going up to her -chamber, folk found her in the midst of this glorious feast. She was -arrested and condemned to be led through the town with the joint on a -spit over her shoulder and the ham hanging at her neck. Was not this a -meet and proper punishment? - -Other ladies there be so proud and haughty they do scorn heaven and -earth in a way of speaking, and utterly snub and reject men and all -their offers. But for such all that is need is to wait and have -patience and perseverance, for with these and time you do surely -subdue them and find them humble enough at last, for ’tis the property -of highmindedness and pride, after much swelling and exaltation, -presently to come down and bate its lofty claims. And with these same -proud dames, I have seen many instances where after scorning love -and all that spake to them thereof, they have given in and loved like -any others, or have even wedded husbands of mean estate and in no way -their equals. Thus doth Love make mock of them and punish them for -their hard-heartedness, taking especial delight in attacking them more -than other folk, forasmuch as the victory is then a prouder one, as -vanquishing pride. - -I knew erstwhile a Court damsel, so proud and scornful that when some -gallant man of the world would come to address her and speak of love, -she would ever answer him so haughtily and with so great contempt, in -words so fierce and arrogant (for she had a gift of speech as good -as any), that presently they did cease altogether. But an if any did -chance now and again still to try and vanquish her pride, ’twas a sight -how she would snub them and send them packing with words and looks and -scornful gestures; for she was very clever at this game. In the end -Love did surprise and sore punish her, for she gave in to one which did -get her with child some score of days only before her marriage; yet -was this lover in no wise to be compared with many other honourable -gentlemen which had aforetime been fain to be her suitors. Herein -we can only say with Horace, _sic placet Veneri_, “such is Venus’ -pleasure,”—for these be miracles. - -’Twas my humour once while at Court to be lover to a fair and honorable -damsel, accomplished and expert if ever woman was, and of a very good -house, but proud and highhanded; and I was very much smit with her -indeed. I did make up my mind to court her, but alway to deal with her -in the same arrogant spirit she did use in her words and answers to -me,—as the proverb saith, “When Greek meets Greek.” Yet did she show -no resentment for all this, for indeed, all the while I was treating -her so cavalierly, I was used to praise her exceedingly, seeing there -is naught doth more soften a woman’s heart than commendation whether of -her beauty and charms or of her proud spirit, even declaring how that -her port did much become her, forasmuch as she kept her from all common -familiarity, and that any woman, damsel or dame, which did make her too -common and familiar, not maintaining a haughty port and high repute, -was not worthy to be so courted. For all which I did but respect her -the more, and would never call her by any other name but _my lady -Disdain_. Whereat she was so well pleased she did herself likewise -choose to call me always _Master Arrogance_. - -So ever continuing, I did court her long and faithfully; and I may -boast me I had as large a share of her good graces as any great Lord -at Court which did care to court her, or larger. However a chief -favourite of the King, a brave and gallant gentleman without a doubt, -did take her from me, and by favour of his King did win and marry her. -Natheless, so long as she did live, the connection was ever kept up -betwixt us, and I have always honoured her well. I know not an if I -shall be blamed for having told this tale, for ’tis a common saying -that all tales about a man’s self be bad. Anyway I have let it out this -time; as indeed throughout my book I have related not a few stories of -myself in divers relations, though I do generally suppress the name. - -Other girls there be again of so merry a complexion and so -lighthearted, so devoted to amusement and enjoyment, they never have -another thought in their heads but to laugh, and make sport and -pastime, and never time to hear or dream of anything else but only -their little amusements. I have known many such which had rather hear -a fiddle play, or dance or leap or run, than hearken to any love -discourse whatsoever; while other some do so adore the chase they -should better be called servants of Diana than of Venus. I did once -know a brave and valiant Lord, since dead, which fell so deep in love -with a maid, and a great lady to boot, that he was like to die; “for -whenas I am fain,” he used to say, “to declare my passion, she doth -answer me never a word but about her dogs and her hunting. I would to -heaven I were metamorphosed into a hunting-dog or greyhound, and my -soul entered in their body, according to Pythagoras’ opinion, to the -end she might give some heed to my love, and I be healed of my wound.” -Yet afterward did he leave her, for he was not good lackey or huntsman -enough to go everywhere a-following her about, wherever her lusty -humours, her pleasures and amusements might lead her. - -Yet must we note one fact. Maids of this sort, after leaving their -chickenhood behind and outgrowing the pip, (as we say of poultry), -having taken their fill of these childish amusements, do always come, -at long last, to essay a woman’s pleasures too. Such young girls do -resemble little wolf-cubs, which be so pretty, engaging and playful in -their downy youth; yet being come to maturity, they do ever take to -evil courses and ravening and killing. The sort of girls I am speaking -of do ever the like, who after much sport and youthful merriment, -after pleasures of all kinds, hunting, dancing, leaping, skipping and -jigging, do always, I ween, indulge at last in dame Venus’ gentle -sport. In a word, to put it briefly, scarce ever a one of the sex is -seen, maid, wife or widow, but sooner or later she and all her sisters -do burn, in season or out of season,—as do all woods, excepting only -one, yclept the _larix_, the which they do in no wise resemble. - -Now this Larix is a wood which will never burn, and maketh neither -fire, flame nor ash, as Julius Cæsar did find. On his return back -from Gaul, he had ordered the inhabitants of Piedmont to furnish him -vivers, and establish magazines on his main line of march. He was duly -obeyed, except by the garrison of a castle called _Larignum_, whither -had withdrawn certain ill-disposed rascals, recusants and rebels, the -result being Cæsar had to turn back and besiege the place. Coming nigh -the fortress, he saw its defences were only of wood, whereat he did -straightway make mock, deeming they would immediately take the same. -Wherefore he did give orders at once to collect large plenty of fagots -and straw to set fire to the bulwarks, and soon was there so huge a -conflagration and mass of flame that all hoped soon to see the ruin and -destruction of the fort. But lo! whenas the fire was burned out and -the flame disappeared, all were exceeding astonished, for they beheld -the stronghold in the same state as before and quite unhurt, neither -burned nor ruined one whit. This did compel Cæsar to resort to other -means, mining to wit, which did at last bring those within to come to -terms and render up the place. From this Cæsar did learn the virtues of -this larix-wood, from the which the castle had its name of _Larignum_, -because it was built and defended of the same. - -I ween there be many fathers, mothers, kinsmen and husbands, that would -dearly like their daughters and wives should share the properties -of this wood, that they should burn fiercely without its leaving -mark or effect behind. They would have a far more unruffled mind and -not so many suspicions a-buzzing in their heads, nor would there be -so many whores on show nor cuckolds before the world. But ’tis not -really desirable in any shape or form, for the world would be clean -depopulated, and folk would live therein like blocks of stone, without -pleasure or satisfaction. So many persons I wot of, of either sex, -would say; and indeed Nature would be left imperfect, instead of very -perfect as she is. Following her kindly lead as our best captain, we -need never fear to lose the right path. - - - - - [Illustration: Decorative scrollwork above chapter start] - - - - - ARTICLE III - - OF THE LOVE OF WIDOWS - - - 1. - -Well! enough said of maids; ’tis but right we now proceed to speak of -widows in their turn. - -The love of widows is good, easy and advantageous, seeing they be in -full liberty of action, and in no sense slaves of fathers, mothers, -brothers, kinsmen and husbands, nor yet of any legal bar, a still more -important point. A man may make love and lie with a widow as much as -ever he please, he is liable to no penalty, as he is with maids or -married women. In fact the Romans, which people hath given us the -most of the laws we have, did never make this act punishable, either -in person or property. I have this from a great lawyer, who did cite -Papinian for confirmation of the point, that great Roman jurisconsult, -who treating of adultery declares; if occasionally under this term -adultery hath been inadvertently included lawless intercourse with maid -or widow, ’tis a misuse of words. In another passage the same authority -saith: the heir hath no right of reproach or concern with the character -of the deceased man’s widow, except only if the deceased had in his -lifetime brought action against his wife on this ground; then could the -said heir take up and carry on the prosecution, but not otherwise. And -as a fact in all the whole of Roman law is no penalty ordained for the -widow, except only for one that did marry again within the year of her -mourning, or who without re-marrying had borne a child subsequently -to the eleventh month of her first year of widowhood, this first year -being deemed sacred to the honour of her former husband. There was -likewise a law made by Heliogabalus, that no widow must marry again for -one year after the death of her husband, to the end she might have due -leisure to bewail his loss and deliberate carefully on the choice of a -successor. A truly paternal law, and an excellent reason i’ faith! As -for a widow’s original dowry, the heir could not in any case rob her -thereof, even though she should have given her person to every possible -form of naughtiness. And for this my authority did allege a very good -reason; for the heir having no other thought but only the property, if -once a door were opened to him to accuse the widow in hope of making -her forfeit this and so rob her of her dowry, she would be exposed at -once to every calumny his malignity could invent. So there would be -never a widow, no matter how virtuous and unoffending, could safeguard -her from slanderous actions on the part of enterprising heirs. - -All this would seem to show, I think, that the Roman ladies did have -good opportunities and occasion for self-indulgence. No need then -to be astonished if one of them, in the reign of Marcus Aurelius, -(as is found writ in that Emperor’s life), as she was walking in her -husband’s funeral procession, and in the midst of all her cries, -sobs, sighs, tears and lamentations, did so strictly press the hand -of the gentleman which was her escort, as to surely signify thereby -her willingness for another taste of love and marriage. Accordingly -at the end of a year,—for he could not marry her before, without -a special dispensation, as was done for Pompey whenas he did wed -Cæsar’s daughter, but this was scarce ever given but to the greatest -personages,—he did marry the lady, having meantime enjoyed some -dainty foretastes, and picked many an early loaf out of the batch, -as the saying goes. Mighty fain was this good lady to lose naught by -procrastination, but take her measures in good time; yet for all this, -she did lose never a doit of her property and original dowry. - -Thus fortunate were Roman widows,—as are still in the main their -French sisters, which for giving heart and fair body satisfaction, -do lose naught of their rights; albeit several cases hereanent have -been pleaded before our parliaments. Thus I wot of a great and -wealthy French Lord, which did carry on a long process against his -sister-in-law concerning her dowry, charging her that her life had -been lascivious and with another crime of a less gay sort to boot. -Natheless did she win her case; and the brother-in-law was obliged to -dower her handsomely and give her all that did belong to her. Yet was -the governance of her son and daughter taken from her, seeing she had -married again. This the judges and noble councillors of the parliaments -do look to, forbidding widows that re-marry to have guardianship of -their children. In spite of this I do know of widows which within -the last few years have successfully asserted their rights, though -re-married, over their daughters being under age, against their -brothers-in-law and other kinsmen; but then they were greatly helped by -the influence of the Prince which was their protector. Indeed there is -never a law a fine _motte_ cannot traverse. Of these subjects I do now -refrain me from speaking more, seeing ’tis not my trade; so thinking -to say something mighty clever, ’tis very like I may say what is quite -from the point. I do refer me to our great men of the law. - -Now of our widows some be alway glad to try marriage once again and run -its risks, like mariners that twice, thrice and four times saved from -shipwreck do again and again go back to the sea, and as married women -do, which in the pains of motherhood do swear and protest they will -never, never go back to it again, and no man shall ever be aught to -them, yet no sooner be they sound and clean again, but they take to the -same old dance once more. So a Spanish lady, being in her pangs, had a -candle lighted in honour of Our Lady of Mont-Sarrat, who much succours -women in child-birth. Yet did she fail not to have sore pain and swear -right earnestly she would never go back to it any more. She was no -sooner delivered but turning to her woman who held the candle still -alight, she said, _Serra esto cabillo de candela para otra vez_, “Put -away that bit of candle for another time.” - -Other ladies do prefer not to marry; and of these are always some, and -always have been, which coming to be widows in the flower of their age, -be content to stay so. Ourselves have seen the Queen Mother, which -did become a widow at the age of seven or eight and thirty years, -and did ever after keep that state; and fair, pleasant and agreeable -as she was, did never so much as think of any man to be her second -husband. No doubt it may be said on the other side,—Whom could she -have wedded suitable to her lofty estate and comparable with the great -King Henri, her late lord and master; beside she would thereby have -lost the government of the Kingdom, which was better worth than an -hundred husbands, and its enjoyment more desirable and pleasant? Yet -is there no advantage Love doth not make women forget; wherefore she -is the more to be commended and worthy to be recorded in the temple of -fame and immortality. For she did master and command her passions,—not -like another Queen, which unable to restrain herself, did wed her own -steward of the household, by name the Sieur de Rabodanges.[95*] This -the King, her son, did at first beginning find exceeding strange and -bitter; but yet, because she was his mother, he did excuse and pardon -the said Rabodanges for having married her; and it was arranged that -by day, before the world, he should serve her alway as steward, not to -deprive her, being the King’s mother, of her proper state and dignity, -but by night she should make of him what pleased her, using him either -as servant or master at her choice, this being left to their own -discretion and good pleasure. We may readily imagine who was master -then; for every woman, be she as high-born as she may, coming to this -point, is ever subject to the superior male, according to the law of -nature and humanity in this matter. I have the tale from the late Grand -Cardinal de Lorraine, second of the name and title, which did tell it -at Poissy to King Francis II., the time he did institute the eighteen -knights of the Order of Saint Michael,—a very great number, and one -never seen or heard of before then.[96*] Among others was the Seigneur -de Rabodanges, a very old man, that had not been seen for years at -Court, except on occasion of some of our warlike expeditions, he having -withdrawn soon after the death of M. de Lautrec out of disappointment -and despite, a common enough case, having lost his good master, the -Captain of whose Guard he was, on his journey to the Kingdom of -Naples, where he died. And the Cardinal did further say he did believe -this M. de Rabodanges was descended of the marriage in question.—Some -while agone a lady of France did marry her page, so soon as ever his -pagehood was expired and he his own master, thinking she had worn her -widow’s weeds quite long enough. - -Well, to leave this sort of widows, and say somewhat of more -high-minded and prudent dames. - -We have had our Queen of France, Donna Isabelle of Austria, which was -wife to the late King Charles IX., whom we may in all ways declare to -have been one of the best, gentlest, wisest and most virtuous Queens -that ever reigned of all the Kings and Queens that ever were. This I -may confidently affirm, and every one that hath ever seen her or heard -her speak will say the same, and this without disparaging others and -with the most perfect truth. She was a very beautiful Princess, with -features and face as fair and delicate as any lady at the Court, and -most affable. Her figure too was very fine, albeit she did scarce reach -the middle height. She was very sensible and prudent moreover, most -virtuous and good-natured, and one that did never hurt or displeasure -any, or give offence by so much as the smallest word. And indeed she -was very careful of her speech, saying but very little and alway in her -native Spanish. - -She was truly pious, but no wise bigoted, not overmuch manifesting her -religion by outward acts and shows, and an extremity of devotion, such -as I have seen some of our prayer-patterers display, but rather without -missing any of the regular hour for supplication to God, she did -employ these well and sufficiently, without going out of her way to -borrow other extraordinary ones. ’Tis very true, as I have heard some -of her ladies declare, that whenas she was to bed apart and hid, and -her curtains close drawn, she would kneel there devoutly in her shift -and make prayer to God by the space of an hour and a half, beating and -tormenting her breast in her zeal of devotion. - -This habit had never been noted at all till after the death of King -Charles her husband. But one night after she had gone to bed and all -her women were retired, one of those which did sleep in her chamber, -hearing her sighing, did bethink her to peep between the curtains, -and saw her in the posture described, so praying and beseeching God, -which practice she did continue well nigh every evening. At length the -said bedchamber-woman, who was on very familiar terms with her, did -venture to remonstrate one day with her on the ground she was hurting -her health. The Queen was angered against the woman for her discovery -and advice, and fain almost to deny the thing, and did straitly charge -her to breathe never a word about it. Wherefore for that evening she -did desist; but in the night she did fully make up for it, supposing -her women would not observe it. But they saw her, and found how it was, -by the reflexion of her chamber-light of wax, the which she did keep -burning by her bedside next the wall, for to read in her Book of Hours -and pray God at whiles, using for this pious purpose the same space -where other Queens and Princesses do keep their table of refection. -Suchlike prayers do little resemble those of hypocrites, which wishing -to appear religious before the world, do make their orisons and -devotions publicly, and aye with mumbling of the lips, to the end folk -may deem them exceeding devout and sanctified. - -Thus would our good Queen pray for the soul of the King, her husband, -whom she did sorely grieve for, yet all the whole making her moan -and lamentation not like a wild and desperate woman, screaming, and -tearing her cheeks and hair, nor yet merely counterfeiting one that -is commended for her tears, but sorrowing gently, dropping her fair -and precious tears so tenderly, sighing so soft and low, as that ’twas -plain to see she was restraining her grief all she could, to the end -people might not think her desirous of making a fine seeming and grand -impression (a thing I have seen many ladies do in such case), yet -failing not at all to convince all of the deep anguish of her heart. -Even so a torrent is ever more violent whose course is stayed than when -it hath free space to run in. I do well remember me how, all through -the King’s malady, her dear lord and husband, he lying in his bed and -she coming to visit him, she would quick sit her down by his side, -not close to his bed’s-head, as is usual, but a little withdrawn, yet -within his sight, where remaining without speaking scarce at all to -him, or he to her, she would keep her eyes all the while so fixed upon -him, that never taking them from off his face she did verily seem to -be warming him in her heart with the heat of all the love she bare -him. Presently she might be seen dropping tears so soft and secret, -that any which had not chanced to note them, would have never known -her grief. There would she sit, drying her wet eyes under pretence of -using her handkerchief, that ’twas downright pity to every soul there -(I saw the thing myself) to see her so troubled to hide her grief and -love, and prevent the King from seeing the signs of her sorrow. Such -was ever her practise in her husband’s sickness; whereafter she would -rise and hie her to her prayers for his restoration to health. She did -truly love and honour him exceedingly, albeit she knew him of amorous -complexion and that he had mistresses, whether for his renown or for -his pleasure. But yet was she never a whit less kind, nor ever said -an ill word to him, patiently bearing her little load of jealousy and -the wrong he did her. She was a very meet and proper mate for him; -for ’twas indeed fire and water come together in one, the King being -naturally quick, hot and stirring, she cool and temperate in all things. - -I have been told on good authority, how that after her widowhood, -among certain of her more privy ladies, which were for giving her such -consolation as they could suggest, was one (for, as you may suppose, -among so great a band there will alway be one more maladroit than the -rest), which, thinking to please highly, did address her thus: “At -least, Madam, an if instead of a daughter he had but left you a son, -you would at this moment be the King’s Queen Mother, and your dignity -by so much increased and strengthened.”—But her answer was: “Alas! -alas! say not such a thing. As if France had not misfortunes enough -already, without my having caused yet another to be her utter ruin. -For had I had a son, this would only have mean more factions, troubles -and seditions for to get the care and guardianship of the young King -during his infancy and minority. Hence would have sprung more war and -strife than ever, each striving to make his profit and draw advantage -by plundering the poor child, as they were fain to do to the late King, -my husband, and would have done but for the Queen, his mother, and his -good servants which did oppose such doings. But an if I had had a son, -I should have but found unhappiness in the thought of having borne him, -and gotten a thousand maledictions of the people, whose voice is the -voice of God. Wherefore I tell you I do praise my God, and am right -thankful for the fruit he hath vouchsafed me, be it for better or for -worse to me in the end.” Such was the kindness of this good-hearted -Princess toward the country of her adoption. - -I have likewise heard tell how at the massacre of the Saint -Bartholomew, the Queen, knowing naught of it and having never the least -suspicion in the world of what was plotting, did get her to bed in -her usual fashion. On her waking in the morning, she was first thing -informed of the fine mystery that was a-playing. “Woe is me!” she did -cry out instantly, “the King, my husband, doth he know of it?”—“Of a -surety, Madam,” came the answer; “’tis he that doth order it.”—“Great -God,” she cried in horror, “what thing is this? and what counsellors be -they which have given him this advice? Oh, God! I do beseech and pray -thee to pardon this sin, for an if Thou be not pitiful, this offence, -I fear me sore, is beyond all pardon.” Then she did quick ask for her -Book of Hours, and so to prayers and supplication to the Almighty, the -tears dropping from her eyes. - -Prithee consider the wisdom and goodness the said Queen did manifest in -not approving of such a merrymaking and the cruel game that was played -thereat, and this although she had much cause to desire the utter -extermination of the Admiral (Coligny) and his fellow religionists, -seeing they were absolutely opposed in every way to her own faith, -the which she did adore and honour more than aught else in all the -world, and on the other hand because she could plainly see how they -did trouble the Kingdom of her gracious lord and husband. Moreover -the Emperor her father had actually said to her, as she was setting -forth with him on her way to France: “My daughter,” he said, “you are -going as Queen to a Kingdom the fairest, strongest and most puissant -in the world, and so far I do hold you a very happy woman. Yet would -you be happier still, an if you could but find it at peace within its -borders and as flourishing as erstwhile it was used to be. But you will -actually find it sorely torn, dismembered, divided and weakened, for -albeit the King, your future husband, is on the right side, yet the -Princes and Lords of the Protestant faith do much hurt and injury on -the other.” And indeed she did find it even as he said. - -Being now a widow, many of the most clear-sighted folk I wot of at -Court, both men and women, did deem the new King, on his arrival -back from Poland, would marry her, in spite of the fact she was his -sister-in-law. But then he could well do so by virtue of the Pope’s -dispensation, who can do much in this respect, and especially where -great personages be concerned, in view of the public advantage -involved. And there were many reasons for concluding the said marriage, -the which I have left to more authoritative writers than myself to -deduce, without my alleging them here. But amongst others one of the -chiefest was to recognise by the marriage the great obligations the -King lay under to the Emperor on the occasion of his quitting Poland -for to return to France. For there can be no reasonable doubt, an if -the Emperor had chose to put the smallest obstacle in his path, he -would never have been able to get away and cross the frontier and -make his way to France. The Poles were anxious to keep him, only he -did leave them without ever a farewell; while the Germans were on the -watch on every side to capture him (as was done to the gallant King -Richard of England, on his return from the Holy Land, as we read in -our Chronicles), and would have certainly held him prisoner and made -him pay ransom, or maybe worse. For they were exceeding sore with -him, for the sake of the Feast of Saint Bartholomew,—or at any rate -the Protestant Princes were. However, he did voluntarily and without -ceremony throw himself suddenly on the protection of the Emperor, which -did receive him very graciously and lovingly, and with great honour -and much gracious familiarity, as if the twain had been brothers. -Then presently, after he had tarried with him some days, he did in -person convoy him a day or two’s journey on his way, and give him a -perfectly safe passage through his dominions, so by his favour he did -eventually win to Carinthia, the Venetian territories, Venice itself, -and presently his own kingdom. - -Such was the obligation the King of France lay under to the Emperor, -one which many persons, as I have said, did suppose the former would -have paid back by binding yet firmer his alliance with him. But at -the time he went into Poland, he had seen at Blamont in Lorraine, the -fair Louise de Lorraine, Mademoiselle de Vaudémont, one of the most -beautiful, virtuous and accomplished Princess in all Christendom. On -her he did cast such ardent eyes as that being presently inflamed with -deepest love, and keeping his passion warm all the while he was away, -he did straightway on his return to Lyons despatch M. du Gua,[97*] one -of his chiefest favourites (as truly he did in every way deserve to -be), to Lorraine. Arrived there, he did settle and conclude the match -betwixt him and her very easily and with no great disputing, as you may -well imagine, such good fortune being beyond the utmost hopes of him -and his daughter,—the one to be father-in-law of the King of France, -the other to be Queen of that Realm. Of this Princess I do propose to -speak elsewhere. - - - 2. - -To return once more to our little Queen. Wearied of a longer tarrying -in France for sundry reasons, and in especial because she was not -properly respected and appreciated there as she did deserve to be, -she did resolve to go finish out the remainder of her virtuous days -with the Emperor, her father, and the Empress, her mother. During her -residence at their Court, the Catholic King was widowed of his Queen, -Anne of Austria, own sister of the said French Queen Elisabeth. The -latter he would fain have married and did send to beg the Empress, who -was sister of the said Catholic King, to open the first proposals to -that effect. But she would never hearken, once, twice or three times -that her mother spake to her of the matter, appealing to the ashes of -the late King, her husband, the which she declared she would never -insult by a second marriage, and likewise alleging the over close -consanguinity and near relationship which was betwixt the two, whereby -the marriage might well anger God sorely. Whereupon the Empress and -the King her brother did bethink them to have a Jesuit Father, a very -learned and very eloquent man, speak with her, who did exhort and -sermonize her all ever he could, not forgetting to quote all the most -telling passages of Holy Scripture of every sort that might advance his -object. But the Queen did straight confound him with other as good and -more appropriate quotations, for since her widowhood she had applied -her earnestly to the study of God’s Word, alleging moreover her fixed -determination, which was her chiefest bulwark, never to forget her -husband in a second marriage. The end was the Jesuit came back with -naught accomplished. However, being strongly urged there by letters -from the King of Spain, he did return once again to the attack, not -content with the firm answer he had already had of the said Princess. -The latter, unwilling to waste more time in vain contest with him, -did treat him to some strong words and actual menaces, cutting him -short with the warning that if he would persist in deafening her any -more with the matter, she would make him repent his interference, even -threatening she would have him whipped in her kitchen. I have further -heard tell,—I know not with how much truth,—that, the man having -attacked her for the third time, she went beyond threats, and had him -chastised for his insolence. But this I do not believe, seeing she did -too well love folk of holy life, such as these men be. - -Such was the constancy and noble firmness of this virtuous Queen,—a -constancy she did keep unbroken to the end of her days, ever honouring -the sacred ashes of her husband.[98*] Faithfully did she water these -with her mournful tears, whose fountain at the last drying up, she did -succumb to her sorrow and die very young. She could not have been more -than five and thirty at her decease,—truly a quite inestimable loss, -for she might long have been a mirror of virtue to all honourable -ladies throughout Christendom. - -And verily, showing as she did the love she bare the King, her husband, -by her constancy, virtuous continence and unceasing plaints, she did -manifest the same even more finely toward the Queen of Navarre, her -sister-in-law. For knowing her to be in great extremity of distress, -and reduced to live in a remote Castle of Auvergne,[99*] all but -deserted of all her friends and followers and by the most part of -those she had erstwhile obliged, she did send to greet her and offer -her every assistance. In fact she did presently give her one-half of -all her jointure which she did enjoy in France, sharing with her as -if she had been her own proper sister. They say indeed this high-born -Queen would have had no little hardship to endure but for this great -liberality of her good and gentle kinswoman. Accordingly she did pay -her great respect, loving and honouring her so well she had all the -difficulty in the world to bear her death with proper patience. Indeed, -for twenty days running she did keep her bed, weeping and crying and -making continual moan; and ever after did naught but regret and deplore -her loss, devoting to her memory the noblest words, such that there -could be no need to borrow better to praise her withal and keep her -remembrance immortally green. I have been told further that Queen -Elisabeth too did compose and indite a work of such beauty it cometh -near God’s own word, as also one containing the history of all that -did hap in France while she was in that country. I know not if this be -true, but I have been assured the book was seen in the hands of the -Queen of Navarre, as though it had been sent her as a last present -before the other’s death. ’Twas most highly thought on of her, and -pronounced a most admirable production. At the word of so noble and -divine an oracle, what can we do but believe ’twas verily so? - -Such then is the summary account I have been able to give of our good -Queen Elisabeth, of her kindness, virtue, constancy and faithfulness, -and her true and loyal love toward the King, her husband. And ’twas but -her nature to be so good and virtuous (I have heard M. de Lansac,[100*] -who was in Spain when she died, tell how the Empress said to him on -that occasion, _El mejor de nosotros es muerto_,—“The best of us all -is dead”), and we may well believe how in such actions this Queen was -but for imitating her own mother, her great aunts and aunts. For the -Empress, her mother, albeit she was left a widow when still quite young -and very handsome, would never marry again, but did ever after continue -in her widowhood, right wisely and steadfastly, having quitted Austria -and Germany, the scene of her rule, after the death of the Emperor, her -husband. She went to join her brother in Spain, having been summoned -of him and besought to go thither to help him in the heavy burden -of his affairs. This she did, for indeed she was a very prudent and -well-counselled Princess. I have heard the late King Henri III., who -was more skilled in reading character than any other man in all his -Kingdom, declare she was in his opinion one of the most honourable, -wise and accomplished Princesses in the world. - -On this, her journey to Spain, after passing through the divers States -of Germany, she did presently arrive at Genoa in Italy, where she -embarked. But seeing ’twas in winter, in the month of December, that -she took ship, a storm did overtake her at Marseilles, at which port -she was forced to cast anchor in the roads. Yet would she never come -within the harbour, she or her galleys, for fear of giving any ground -for umbrage or suspicion; nor did herself enter the town but only once, -to see the sights. Off this port she did tarry seven or eight days, -a-waiting for fair weather. Her most favourite course was every morning -to leave her galley (for she did usually sleep a-board), and so during -the day to go hear the service of mass at the Church of St. Victor -with very devout attention. Then presently, her dinner having been -brought and made ready in the Abbey, she would there dine; after which -she would indulge in discourse with her ladies, or her folk generally, -or else with divers gentlemen of Marseilles, which did show her all -the honour and respect due to so noble a Princess, the King of France -indeed having bid them specially to receive her as it were his own -kingly person in recompense for the good welcome and excellent cheer -she had given him at Vienna. This she did readily enough perceive; -and for that reason would converse very intimately with them and -show herself exceeding condescending, treating them more after the -German and French fashion than the Spanish. In fact they were no less -delighted with her than she with them, and did write a most courteous -letter to the King, thanking him and informing him they were as worthy -and honourable folk as ever she had seen in any place. Moreover she did -make separate mention by name of some score or so of them, among whom -was M. Castellan, known as the Seigneur Altyvity, Captain of the King’s -Galleys, a man much renowned for having wedded the fair Chasteauneuf, -a Court lady, and for having killed the Grand Prior, himself falling -along with him, as I do hope to relate in another place. It was none -other than his wife which did relate to me what I here set down, and -did tell me of all the perfections of this noble Princess, and how -pleasant she did find her enforced stay at Marseilles, and how she -admired and enjoyed the place in her walks abroad. But evening once -come, she did never fail to return to sleep on board her galley, to -the end, the moment fine weather and a favourable wind should come, -she might straight make sail, or mayhap because she was anxious to -give no cause of umbrage. I was at Court at the time these facts were -reported to the King concerning her passing visit, who was most anxious -to know if she had been well received, and how she was, and did wish -her well in all respects. The said Princess is yet alive, and doth -continue in her good and virtuous behaviour, having done her brother -excellent service, by all I am told. She did later retire for her -final abode and dwelling-place to a Convent of religious women, called -the _descalçadas_ (unshod), because they do wear neither shoes nor -stockings. This house was founded by her sister, the Princess of Spain. - -This same Princess of Spain was a very beautiful lady in her day, and -of a most courtly dignity.[101*] Else truly she would not have been a -Spanish Princess; for of a surety, fine bearing and becoming grace do -ever go along with Royalty, and above all with Spanish Royalty. Myself -have had the honour of seeing her and speaking with her on terms of -some intimacy, whenas I was in Spain after my return from Portugal. -The first time I went to pay my duty to our Queen Elisabeth of France, -and was discoursing with her, answering her many questions as to the -news from France and Portugal, they came to inform the Queen that the -Princess of Spain was coming in. Instantly she said to me: “Nay! do -not retire, Monsieur de Bourdeille; you will see a very fair and noble -Princess, and will find pleasure in so doing. She will be very glad -to see you and to ask you news of the King, her son, as you have just -lately seen him.” Hereupon cometh the Princess herself, whom I thought -exceeding handsome, and in my opinion very becomingly attired, on her -head a Spanish cap of white crêpe, coming low down in a point over the -face, but not otherwise in widow’s weeds, according to the Spanish -fashion, for indeed her almost constant wear was silk. At first I did -gaze long at her and admire her beauty, till just as I was growing -quite enthralled, the Queen did call me up, and told me the Princess -was fain to hear news of me concerning the King her son; for I had -already overheard the Queen informing her how she had but now been -conversing with a gentleman of the King’s, late come from Portugal. -At this, I came forward, and did kiss her gown in the Spanish mode, -whereupon she did greet me very graciously and familiarly, and began -asking me news of the King, her son, his behaviour, and what I thought -of him. For at the time a proposed match was being talked of betwixt -him and the noble Princess Marguerite of France, the King’s sister and -now Queen of Navarre. I did give her abundance of information; for in -those days I did speak Spanish as well as my native French, or even -better. Among other questions, she did ask me, “Was her son handsome, -and who was he most like?” I told her he was one of the handsomest -Princes in Christendom, as truly he was, and that he was like her in -every way, and the living image of her beauty, whereat she gave a -little smile and blush, plainly showing her pleasure at what I had said. - -After we had conversed a long while together, the Queen’s attendants -came to summon her to supper, and so the two sisters separated. Then -did the Queen say to me (she had been amusing herself at the window, -yet had heard most of what we said), with a laugh: “You did please her -mightily by what you said as to the likeness betwixt her son and her.” -Presently she asked what I thought of her, and if I did not think her -a noble lady, and such as she had described her, and anon remarked: -“I imagine she would be right glad to wed the King, my brother, and I -should dearly love it.” All this I did duly report later to the Queen -Mother, when I was returned back to the French Court, which was at the -time at Arles in Provence. But she did declare the Princess was too old -for him, old enough to be his mother. I informed her moreover of what I -had been told in Spain, and did consider of good authority, to wit that -she was firm resolved never to marry again, an it were not to wed the -King of France, or failing this to withdraw from the world altogether. - -And truly she did grow so enamoured of this high match and fair -prospect, for she was of high heart and ambition, and she did firmly -believe she was approaching its accomplishment, or failing this, was -resolved to end her days in the convent I have spoken of, where already -she was having buildings constructed against her possible retirement -from the world. Accordingly she did long cling to this hope and belief, -ever wisely maintaining her widowhood, till she did learn of the King’s -marriage with her niece. Then, all her hopes frustrated, she did -pronounce these words expressive of despite or something like it, as -I have been told: _Aunque la nieta sea por su verano mas moza, y menos -cargada de años que la tia, la hermosura de la tia, ya en su estio toda -hecha y formada por sus gentiles y fructiferos años, vale mas que todos -los frutos que su edad florescida da esperanza à venir; porque la menor -desdicha humana los harà caer y perder ni mas ni menos que alguinos -arboles, los quales, en el verano, por sus lindas y blancos flores -nos prometen linda fruta en el estio, y el menor viento que acade los -lleva y abate, no quedando que las hojas. Ea! dunque pasase todo con -la voluntad de Dios, con el qual desde agora me voy, no con otro, para -siempre jamas, me casar_,—“True the niece is younger and in her first -prime, and less advanced in years than the aunt, yet is the beauty of -the latter, already in its summer glory, fully grown and formed by the -gracious years, and bearing fruit, better worth than all the fruits -that the other’s age, now but beginning to bloom, doth give expectation -of. For the smallest human accident will destroy the same, withering -and ruining them, just like trees in the springtime, which by their -fair white blossoms do promise us fair and excellent fruits in summer. -But let only a little blast of wind arise, and lo! they be broken off -and beaten down and spoiled, and naught left but only leaves. Well! -God’s will be done, with whom I am about to wed for all eternity, and -with no human bridegroom at all.” So said, so done; and thereafter she -did lead a life so good and holy, altogether removed from the wicked -world, as that she hath left behind to all ladies, great and small, a -noble example for their imitation. - -Some folks might possibly say, “Well! God be thanked she could not -marry King Charles; for be sure, and if this could have been brought -about, she would have sent far enough the hard life of a widow, and -been right glad to take up again the soft and pleasant one of a wife.” -This may well be allowed; but this likewise it must be granted on the -other hand, that the great wish she did display to wed this puissant -Monarch was but a manifestation of her proud and ambitious Spanish -heart, for to show her high spirit, and prove she would in no wise take -a lowly place; but seeing her sister an Empress, not able to be one -too, yet fain to rival her, she did therefore aspire to be Queen of the -realm of France, which is as good as any Empire, or better, and, if not -in actual fact, yet in will and desire to be on an equal footing with -her. Such motives do well accord with her character, as I have heard -it described. To make an end, she was in mine opinion one of the most -noble and high-bred foreign Princesses I have ever seen, albeit she may -perhaps be reproached with her retirement from the world, due rather -to despite than to genuine devotion. Yet she did thus piously withdraw -her; and her good life and holy have sufficiently made manifest the -true sanctity of her character. - - - 3. - -Her aunt, Queen Mary of Hungary, did the like, but at a very advanced -age, and this no less from her own desire to retire from the world -than in order to help her brother the Emperor to serve God well and -piously. This same Queen was widowed at a very early age, having lost -King Louis, her husband, which fell very young in a battle he fought -with the Turks,—a battle he should never of rights have lost, but for -the obstinacy of a Cardinal, which had much influence over him and did -over-persuade him against his better judgement, declaring ’twas not -meet to distrust God’s power and a righteous cause. Though he should -have but ten thousand Hungarians, more or less, on his side, yet these -being all good Christians and fighting in God’s quarrel, he should -easily rout ten thousand Turks. In fine he did so incite and push -him to recklessness, as that he did lose the battle; and presently -attempting to retreat was entangled in a marsh and there choked. - -The same fate befell the last King of Portugal, Don Sebastian,[102*] -which did perish miserably, having risked battle with too weak a force -against the Moors, that were three times as strong as himself. This was -done through the advice, preaching and obstinacy of sundry Jesuits, -which were forever alleging the power of Almighty God, who with a look -could strike a whole host dead, above all when this was banded together -against him. An excellent and a true doctrine doubtless; yet must we -not be over confident and abuse God’s promises, for His secret purpose -will alway be past our finding out. Some say the Jesuit Fathers gave -the counsel they did in all good faith, as is quite credible; others -that they were traitors and had been gained over by the King of Spain, -to the end they might so bring about the undoing of the young and -gallant King of Portugal, courageous and fiery as he was, and himself -be the better able to lay his hands on that he did after seize. Be this -as it may, ’tis certain both these disasters befell through these folk, -which be fain to manage armies, yet have never learned the trade of war. - -And this is why the great Duc de Guise, after he had been sore deceived -in his Italian expedition, was often used to say, “I do love God’s -Church, yet will I never undertake a conquest on the word and faith -of any Priest.” By this he was for chiding the Pope, Caraffa, known -as Paul IV., which had not kept his promises made to him in the most -impressive and solemn words, or mayhap the Cardinal, his brother, who -had gone all the way to Rome to discuss the matter and see how the land -lay, after which he did recklessly urge his brother to the enterprise. -It may well be the aforesaid Duc de Guise had in his mind both Pope -and Cardinal; for undoubtedly, as I have been informed, whenever the -Duke did repeat this saying, as oft he did, before his brother, the -latter deeming it a stone pitched into his garden, would be secretly -much enraged and furiously angry. This is a digression, but my subject -seemed to warrant it. - -To return now to our good Queen Mary of Hungary. After this disaster -to her husband, she was left a very young and beautiful widow, as I -have heard many persons say which have seen her, as also according to -the portraits of her I have seen, which do all represent her as very -fair, giving her never an ugly or censurable feature, except only her -heavy, projecting mouth, or “Austrian lip.”[103*] However this doth -not really come from the House of Austria, but from that of Burgundy, -as I have heard a lady of the Court at that time relate. She said how -once when Queen Eleanor was passing by way of Dijon on her way to pay -her devotions at the Monastery of the Chartreuse in that region, and to -visit the reverend sepulchres of her ancestors, the Dukes of Burgundy, -she was curious to have these opened, as many monarchs have done with -theirs. Some of the bodies she did find so whole and well preserved she -did recognise many of their features, and amongst others the mouth. -Whereupon she did suddenly cry: “Ah! I thought we did take our mouths -from them of Austria; but by what I see here, we seem rather to get -them from Mary of Burgundy, our ancestress, and the Dukes of Burgundy, -our ancestors. If ever I see the Emperor, my brother, I will tell him; -nay! I will write him at once.” The lady which was then present told -me she did herself hear these words, declaring further the Queen did -pronounce them as if pleased at her discovery. And in this she was very -right, for truly the House of Burgundy was every whit as good as that -of Austria, springing as it did from a son of France, Philip le Hardi, -from whom they had inherited much wealth and courage and high spirit. -Indeed I imagine there were never four greater Dukes, one after the -other, than were these four Dukes of Burgundy. Truly I may be charged -with everlastingly wandering from my subject; but ’tis an easy matter -to excuse me, I think, seeing I have never been taught the art of -careful and correct writing. - -Our Queen Mary of Hungary then was a most fair and agreeable Princess, -and a very amiable, albeit she did show herself somewhat over -masculine. But for that she was none the worse for love, nor yet for -war, which she did take for her chiefest exercise. The Emperor, her -brother, seeing her meet for this work and very apt therein, did send -to summon her and beg her to come to him, for to give her the charge -of her aunt Marguerite of Flanders had held, which was a very wise -Princess and one that did govern his Province of the Low Countries with -as much gentleness as the other had used severity. Wherefore so long as -she lived, King Francis did never direct his arms toward that quarter, -saying he would fain avoid giving displeasure to so noble a Princess, -which did show her so well disposed to France, and so wise and virtuous -to boot. Unhappy too beyond her deserts in her marriages, whereof the -first was with King Charles VIII., by whom she was while still quite -a girl sent back to her father’s house; the second with the King of -Aragon’s son, John by name, of whom she had a posthumous son that died -soon after its birth. The third was with the handsome Duke Philibert of -Savoy, of whom she had no offspring, and for that cause did bear the -device, _Fortune infortune, fors une_. She doth lie with her husband -in the beautiful and most splendid Cloister of Brou, near the town of -Bourg en Bresse, a Church I have myself visited. - -This same Queen of Hungary then did greatly help the Emperor, seeing -how isolated he was. ’Twas true he had Ferdinand, King of the Romans, -his brother; yet was it all he could do to make head against that great -conqueror, the Sultan Soliman. The Emperor had moreover on his hands -the affairs of Italy, which was at that time all a-fire; while Germany -was little better by reason of the Grand Turk, and he was harassed -to boot with Hungary, Spain at the time of its rebellion under M. de -Chièvres, the Indies, the Low Countries, Barbary, and France, which -last was the most sore burden of all, in a word with the business of -nigh half the world, in a manner of speaking.[104*] He did make his -sister Governess General of all the Netherlands, where by the space -of two or three and twenty years she did him such excellent service -I really cannot tell what he would have done without her. So he did -entrust her with entire charge of the government of those districts, -and even when himself was in Flanders, did leave all the management of -his provinces in that quarter in her hands. The council was held under -her direction and in her apartments even when the Emperor was present -and did attend, as I have been told he often did. ’Tis true she was -very able and did manage it all for him, reporting to him all that had -taken place at the meeting when he was not there, in all which he did -find the utmost pleasure. She did carry out some very successful wars -too, whether by her generals or in person, always riding a-horse, like -a noble-hearted Amazon-queen. - -She it was which did first begin those burnings of strongholds in our -land of France, destroying thus some of the finest houses and castles, -and in especial that of Folembray,[105*] a beautiful and agreeable -residence our Kings had built them for the delight and pleasure of the -chase. At this the King did feel so sore despite and displeasure as -that no long while after she did get of him as good as she gave, for -he took his revenge on her noble house of Bains, the which was held -for one of the marvels of the world, shaming so to speak all other -beautiful buildings of the earth, and I have heard those say that had -seen it in its perfection, comparable even to the seven wonders of the -world, so renowned in Antiquity. ’Twas there she did entertain the -Emperor Charles and all his Court, the time when his son, King Philip, -came from Spain to Flanders for to visit his father, such excellence -and perfection of magnificence being then displayed that naught else -was spoke of at the time save only _las fiestas de Bains_, as the -Spaniards said. Moreover I do remember on the journey to Bayonne, when -some very splendid shows were given, tilting at the ring, combats, -masquerades and games, ’twas all naught to be compared with these -famous _fiestas de Bains_,—as sundry old Spanish noblemen which had -witnessed them did declare, and as I have seen myself in a Work writ -in Spanish on purpose to celebrate them. And it may be certainly said -there hath never aught been done or seen finer, equalling even the -splendours of Roman days, and copying their old-time sports, always -excepting the fights of Gladiators and wild beasts. But with this only -exception, the feasts of Bains were finer, more agreeable, as well as -more varied and general. - -These fêtes I would most dearly love to describe here, according to -the particulars I have gleaned from this Spanish work, as well as -learned from sundry eye-witnesses, and in especial from Madame de -Fontaine, surnamed Torcy,[106*] acting as sister for the time being to -Queen Eleanor; but I should be blamed as too continually digressing -from my subject. So I must e’en keep it for a tid-bit some other -time, the matter really meriting full description. Amongst the most -splendid of the shows, I will name but this. She had a great fortress -of brick, which was assaulted, defended, and relieved by a body of six -thousand foot-men of veteran regiments, bombarded by thirty pieces of -ordnance, whether in the trenches or on the walls, with all identical -methods and ceremonies as in actual war. The siege did last three days -and an half, and so fine a sight was never seen; for assaults were -delivered, relief brought up, the besieged beaten back, both cavalry -and infantry participating in the manœuvres, under charge of the Prince -of Piedmont, the place being eventually surrendered on terms, in part -favourable, in part rather hard, the garrison being granted their lives -and withdrawing under escort. In a word no detail of real war was -forgot,—all to the singular gratification of the Emperor. - -Rest assured, if the Queen was lavish on that occasion, ’twas but -to show her brother that what he had had of him, estates, pensions, -benefits, share of his conquests, all was vowed to the further -heightening of his glory and pleasure. Wherefore the said Emperor -was greatly pleased and did highly commend and approve the great -expenditure, and especially that lavished on his own chamber. This was -hung with tapestry of a raised warp, all of gold, silver and silk, -where were figured and represented in their true colours all the famous -conquests, high emprises, warlike expeditions and battles, he had ever -made and won, above all not forgetting the defeat of Soliman before -Vienna, and the taking prisoner of King Francis I. In fact there was -naught therein that was not of the best and most highly wrought. - -But truly the unfortunate mansion did lose all its splendour later, -forasmuch as it was utterly devastated, pillaged, ruined and -overthrown. I have heard say how its mistress, on learning this ruin, -did fall in such distress, despite and fury, that ’twas many days ere -she could be appeased. Subsequently, when one day passing near the -spot, she was fain to see the remains, and gazing very sadly at these, -did swear, the tears in her eyes, that all France should repent the -deed and be right sorry for these conflagrations, and that she would -never be content till yonder proud Castle of Fontainebleau, whereof -folk did make so much, was levelled with the earth and not one stone -left on another. And in very deed she did spew out her anger right -fiercely over the unhappy land of Picardy, which felt the sore effects -of her wrath and the fires she kindled there; and I ween, if truce had -not interfered, her vengeance would have been startling. For she was -of a proud and hard heart, and slow to be appeased, and was generally -held, of her own people as well as ours, somewhat over cruel; but such -is ever the bent of women, especially of high-born women, which be very -ready to take vengeance for any offence done them. The Emperor, by all -they say, did only love her the more for this. - -I have heard tell how, when the Emperor did abdicate at Brussels and -strip him of his power, the ceremony being held in a great Hall wherein -he had called together an assembly of his Estates, after he had made a -set speech and said all he wished to his son, and had likewise humbly -thanked his sister, Queen Mary, which was seated by the side of the -Emperor her brother, the latter presently rising from her seat, and -with a deep reverence to her brother, did address the people with a -grave and dignified port and much confidence and grace, and said as -follows: “Gentlemen, for these three and twenty years past that my -brother, the Emperor, hath been pleased to grant me the charge and -government of these Low Countries, I have ever employed in the said -task all the means and abilities that God, Nature and Fortune have -bestowed on me, for to perform the same to the utmost of my powers. But -an if in aught I have made failure, I am surely to be excused, for I -think I have never forgot my duty nor spared the proper pains. Yet, and -if I _have_ lacked in anything, I do beg you to forgive me. However, -if there be any one of you will not so do, but is ill content with -me and my government, why! ’tis the smallest of my cares, seeing the -Emperor, my brother, is well content, and to please him, and him alone, -hath ever been the chiefest of my desires and cares.” With these words -and another deep reverence to the Emperor, she did resume her seat. I -have heard some say this speech was found of many somewhat over proud -and haughty, more especially on occasion her giving up her charge and -bidding farewell to a people she was about to leave. ’Twould surely -have been more natural, had she desired to leave a good savour in their -mouth and some grief behind her on her departure. But for all this she -had never a thought, seeing her sole end was to please and content her -brother, and from henceforth to take no heed of the world but keep her -brother company in his retirement and life of prayer. - -This account I had of a gentleman of my brother’s suite, which was -at the time at Brussels, whither he had gone to treat of the ransom -of my brother aforesaid, he having been taken prisoner in Hedin, and -having spent five years in confinement at Lille in Flanders. The said -gentleman was present throughout this assembly and mournful abdication -of the Emperor; and did tell me how not a few persons were something -scandalized in secret at this haughty pronouncement of the Queen’s, yet -did never dare say a word or let their opinion appear, seeing plainly -they had to do with a masterful dame, which, if angered, would surely -before her final departure have done something startling for a last -stroke. - -Presently freed of all her charge and responsibility, she doth -accompany her brother to Spain; which land she did never after quit, -either she or her sister Queen Eleanor, till the day of death. Of the -three, each did survive the other by one year; the Emperor died first, -the Queen of France next, being the eldest, then the Queen of Hungary -after the two others, her brother and sister. Both sisters did behave -them wisely and well in widowhood; the Queen of Hungary was a longer -time widow than her sister, and did never marry again, while her sister -did so twice, partly to be Queen of France, a dainty morsel, partly by -the prayers and persuasion of the Emperor, to the end she might be a -sure pledge of peace and public quietness. Not that the said pledge did -avail for long while, for War brake out again presently, as cruel as -ever. However this was no fault of the poor Princess, who did all she -could. Yet for all that did King Francis, her husband, treat her but -scurvily, hating and abominating the connection, as I have been told. - - - 4. - -After the departure of the Queen of Hungary there was left no great -Princess with King Philip (now Sovereign Lord invested with his domains -in the Netherlands and elsewhere), but only the Duchesse de Lorraine, -Christina of Denmark,[107*] his cousin german, later entitled Her -Highness, which did always hold him good company, so long as he tarried -in these parts. She did add much to the brilliance of his Court, for -truly no Court, whether of King, Prince, Emperor or Monarch, no matter -how magnificent it be, is of much account, if it be not accompanied -and seconded by a Queen’s or Empress’s Court, or at least a great -Princess’s, and thereat a good abundance of noble dames and damsels, -as both myself have observed and have heard pronouncement to the same -effect in the highest quarters. - -This said Princess was in mine opinion one of the most beauteous and -most well accomplished Princesses I have ever seen,—in face very -fair and pleasing, her figure very tall and fine, her conversation -agreeable, and above all her dress most excellent. In fact all her life -she was the pattern and model of fashion to all the ladies of France. -This mode of dressing head and hair and arranging the veil was known -as the Lorraine way, and ’twas a pretty sight to see our Court ladies -so attired. These were ever a-making grand fêtes and splendid shows, -the better thereat to show off their dainty adornments, all being _à -la Lorraine_ and copied after Her Highness. In especial she had one -of the prettiest hands ever seen; and I have heard the Queen Mother -herself praise the same, and liken it to her own for perfection. She -had an excellent seat on horseback, and rode with no little grace, -always using the stirrup attached to the saddle, the mode whereof she -had learned of the Queen Marie, her aunt, and the Queen Mother, so I -have heard say of her; for previously she had ridden with help of the -old-fashioned “planchette,”[108] which was far from properly showing -off her grace and her elegant seat like the stirrup. In all this she -was for imitating the Queen her aunt, never mounting any but Spanish -horses, Turks, Barbs and the very best jennets, which could go well -at the amble. Of such I have seen a dozen capital mounts at one time -in her stable, all so excellent, ’twere impossible to say one was -better than another. The said aunt did love her dearly, as well for the -exercises they both were fond of, hunting, riding and the like, as for -her virtues, the which she did observe in her. Accordingly, after her -marriage, she did often go to visit her in Flanders, as I have heard -Madame de Fontaines relate; and indeed after she became a widow, and -especially after her son had been taken from her, she did quit Lorraine -altogether in despite, so proud and high of heart was she. She did -thereafter take up her abode with the Emperor her uncle and the Queens -her aunts, all which great personages did receive her with no small -pleasure. - -She did bear exceeding hardly the loss and absence of her son, and -this in spite of all possible excuses which King Henri did make her, -and his declared intention of adopting him as his son. But presently, -finding no assuagement, and seeing how they were giving him one M. -de La Brousse as tutor, instead of the one he now had, namely M. de -Montbardon, a very wise and honourable gentleman the Emperor himself -had assigned to that office, having long known him for a worthy man, -for he had been in the service of M. de Bourbon, and was a French -refugee, the Princess, thinking all desperate, did seek out King Henri -one Holy Thursday in the great Gallery at Nancy, where all his Court -was assembled. Thus, with an assured grace and that great beauty which -did make her yet more admirable, she did advance, with no undue awe or -any sort of abasement at his grandeur, albeit bowing low in reverence -before him; and in suppliant wise, with tears in her eyes, the which -did but make her more fair and more delightsome to look upon, did -remonstrate with the King as to the wrong he was doing her in taking -away her son,—the dearest possession she had in all the world. Little -did she deserve, she added, so harsh treatment, seeing the high station -she was born in and the fact she had never dreamed of doing aught to -his disservice. All this she said so well and with so excellent a -grace, with reasoning so cogent and complaint so pitiful, as that the -King, always very courteous toward ladies, was deeply stirred with -compassion,—and not he alone, but all the Lords and Princes, great and -small, which were present at the sight. - -The King, who was the most respectful monarch toward ladies hath ever -been in France, did answer her in very honourable terms, albeit with -no rigmarole of words nor by way of set harangue, as Paradin doth -represent the matter in his _History of France_; for indeed of his -nature this monarch was not so prolix, nor copious in reasons and fine -speeches, nor a mighty orator. Neither had he any need to be, nor is -it becoming that a King should play the philosopher and rhetorician, -the shortest replies and briefest questions being more meet for him and -more becoming. This I have heard argued by not a few great men, amongst -others by M. de Pibrac,[109*] whose judgment was much to be relied on -by reason of the competence of knowledge he did possess. Moreover any -one that shall read the speech as given by Paradin, as supposed by him -to have been delivered in this place by King Henri, will credit never -a word of it; besides which, I have heard positively from a number -of great folk which were there present that he did not make any such -lengthy harangue as the historian saith. - -’Tis quite true at the same time that he did condole with her in very -honourable and proper phrase on her alleged grievance, saying she had -no real reason to be troubled thereat, for that ’twas to assure the -lad’s estate, and not out of any selfish hostility toward him, he was -fain to have her son by his side, and to keep him along with his own -son and heir, to share his bringing up and fashion of life and fortune. -Further that himself being French, and the boy of French extraction, -he could scarce be better off than to be reared at the French Court -and among French folk, where he had so many kinsmen and friends. -In especial he forgat not to add how the house of Lorraine did lie -under greater obligation to that of France than to any other in all -Christendom, alleging the countenance given by France to the Duke of -Lorraine as against Duke Charles of Burgundy, that was slain before -Nancy. For that ’twas an undoubted truth to say that but for that -Country’s help, the said Duke would have utterly undone the Duke of -Lorraine and his Duchy to boot, and made him the most unhappy Prince -in the world. He did further allege the gratitude they of the House -of Lorraine did owe to the French, for the great assistance rendered -them by the latter in their successes in the Holy Wars and conquests of -Jerusalem, and the Kingdom of Naples and Sicily. Further he did declare -how neither his natural bent nor true interests were like to set him on -ruining and undoing Princes, but rather to help the same in all ways, -when in danger and difficulty,—as he had actually done to the little -Queen of Scots, a near kinswoman of his son, to the Duke of Parma, as -well as to Germany, that was so sore pressed it was nigh coming to -utter ruin without such help. The same kindness and generosity, he -said, was his motive for taking the young Prince of Lorraine under his -protection, for to bring him up to an higher estate than else he could -aspire to, and make him his son by marrying him eventually to one of -his own daughters; in fine that she had no sort of call to be afflicted -at his action. - -Yet could not all these fine words and excellent reasons in any wise -calm her grief, neither enable her to bear her loss one whit more -patiently. So presently with another deep reverence, and still shedding -many pathetic tears, she did withdraw her to her own chamber, the King -himself conducting her to the door thereof. Next day, before quitting -the place, he did visit her in her chamber to bid her farewell, but -without her winning any concession as to her petition. Accordingly -having thus seen her beloved son torn from her and carried away to -France, she did resolve for her part to leave Lorraine altogether and -retire to Flanders to the side of her uncle the Emperor (oh! the fine -sound of that word) and to the company of her cousin King Philip and -the Queens her aunts—a noble alliance and a great! This she did; and -did never leave Flanders more, till after conclusion of the peace -betwixt the two Kings, when he of Spain took ship and sailed away for -that country. - -To the making of the said peace she did no little avail, my! rather was -the chiefest contributor thereto. For the delegates of the one side and -the other, by what I have heard said, after having laboured and sweated -all in vain at Cercan for several days, without arranging or settling -aught, were still at fault and off the scent, as we say in hunting, -when she, whether inspired by wisdom from on high or urged thereto -by Christian zeal and her own kind heart, did take up the chase, and -carry this important negotiation to a good end and one so fortunate to -all Christian peoples. And of a truth ’twas said no other could have -been found so meet to move and set in place this great corner stone, -seeing she was a lady of skill and experience if ever there was one, -as well as of high and weighty authority,—and there can be never a -doubt but petty, low-born folk are not so apt for the like business -as great personages be. For this and many other reasons the King her -cousin did feel much trust and confidence in her, well knowing her -good qualities. He did ever love her well, bearing her much affection -and esteem; and indeed she did help him much and contribute greatly -to the splendour and renown of his Court, the which without her would -have sorely lacked brilliancy. Yet afterward, I have been told, he did -show her but poor gratitude and treated her scurvily with regard to her -lands which did fall to her for jointure in the Duchy of Milan, where -she had been married in first wedlock with the Duke Sforza; for by -what I have been informed, he did rob her and bring her short of some -portion of these. - -I have heard it said that after the loss of her son, she did remain -very ill content with the Duc de Guise and the great Cardinal her -brother, holding them to blame for having advised the King to that -course, by reason of their ambition, both because they were fain to -see their near cousin adopted as son and married within the House of -France, and because she had some while before refused M. de Guise in -marriage, which had sent to her to make such offer. She being one of -the proudest of womankind, made answer she would never wed the younger -son of the house whereof she had been wife of the eldest. For this -rebuff the Duke did ever after bear her a grudge, and this although he -did lose naught in his subsequent marriage, his wife being of a most -illustrious house and granddaughter of a King, Louis XII., one of the -best and bravest monarchs have ever sat on the French throne,—and what -is more, being one of the most beautiful women in Christendom. - -Hereanent I have heard tell how the first time these two beauteous -Princesses met, both were so curious to mark one the other, whether -directing their gaze straight in the face, or askance or sideways, -as that neither could look long enough, so set were they and eager -to examine each other’s charms. I leave you to fancy all the divers -thoughts must have traversed these fair ladies’ minds. Just so we do -read how a little before the great battle was fought in Africa betwixt -Scipio and Hannibal, which did put a final end to the War of Rome and -Carthage, how previous to its beginning, they did come together in a -short truce of some two hours’ duration. Whenas they were approached -near each other, there the twain of them stood some little while -wrapped in contemplation one of the other, each thinking of the valour -of the other, so renowned by their exploits and so well represented -in their gallant visages, their persons, and their fine, warlike ways -and bearing. Then after so tarrying entranced in these noble dreams -the one of the other, they did presently set them to negotiation after -the fashion Livy hath so well described. Thus valour doth make itself -esteemed in the midst of enmity and hate, as doth beauty in the midst -of mutual jealousy,—as proven in the case of the two fair Princesses I -have spoke of. - -Truly the beauty and charming grace of these twain might well be -pronounced equal, only that Madame de Guise mayhap did in some ways -bear the bell. But she was well content to surpass her rival in these -qualities only, never a whit in pride and high bearing; for indeed she -was the most gentle, good, condescending and affable Princess ever -known, albeit she could show herself at need high-spirited and gallant. -Nature had framed her so, no less by reason of her tall and noble -figure than of her dignified port and stately carriage, so that to look -at her a man might well fear and think twice about addressing her in -speech, yet having plucked up courage so to accost her, naught would he -find in her but all sweetness, candour and good-nature,—these pleasant -qualities being inherited from her grandfather, the good father of his -people, and the kindly French habit. ’Tis true enough however she knew -very well how to keep her dignity and show her pride, when need was. I -do hope to further speak of her specially in another place. - -Her Highness of Lorraine on the contrary was exceeding proud and -somewhat overweening. This myself did note on sundry occasions in her -bearing toward the Queen of Scots, who after she was a widow, did make -a journey to Lorraine, where I then was. Not seldom you would have -thought the aforesaid proud Princess was eager to take advantage and -encroach somewhat upon the unhappy Queen’s majesty. Yet the latter, -who was a woman of the world and of a high spirit, did never give her -occasion to glory over her or in any wise encroach on her dignity, -albeit her bearing was always gentleness itself. Indeed the Cardinal -her brother had duly warned her and given her an inkling of the haughty -humour of the said Princess. - -Never could this latter entirely rid her of her pride, yet was she -fain to modify the same somewhat toward the Queen Mother (Catherine -de Medici), when they met. Verily ’twas pride against pride; for the -Queen Mother was the very proudest woman in all the world, when need -was, as I have myself seen, and heard the same character given her of -many great personages,—and above all if it were necessary to lower -the pride of some presumptuous person, for she would ever contrive to -abase such to the very bowels of the earth. Yet did she always bear -herself courteously toward her Highness, treating her with sufficient -deference and respect, yet ever keeping a tight rein, hand high or -hand low as occasion did demand, for fear she should mayhap forget -herself and presume on some liberty; and myself did hear her twice or -thrice declare, “Yonder is the proudest woman I ever saw!” This was at -the time she came to the coronation of our late King Charles IX. at -Reims, whither she was invited. On her entry into that city, she would -not ride a-horseback, fearing thereby to derogate something of her -dignity and rank, but did arrive in a coach magnificently furnished, -all covered with black velvet, by reason of her widowhood, and drawn -by four white barbs, the finest could anywhere be chosen, harnessed -four abreast, as it had been a triumphal chariot. Herself was at the -carriage door, splendidly attired, though all in black, in a velvet -robe, but her head dress all of white, magnificently arranged and -set off. At the other door was one of her daughters, which was after -Duchess of Bavaria;[110*] and within, her maid of honour, the Princess -of Macedonia. The Queen Mother, desiring to see her enter the outer -court in this triumphant guise, did set her at a window, exclaiming -in an undertone, “Oh! the haughty dame it is!” Presently when she had -stepped down from her carriage and mounted to the great hall above, -the Queen did go forward to meet her only so far as the midmost of -the hall, or mayhap a little farther and somewhat nearer the entrance -door than the upper end. Yet did she receive her very graciously, and -showed her great honour; for at the time she was ruler in all things, -in view of the youth of the King her son, and did govern him and make -him entirely conform to her good pleasure. All the Court, great and -small alike, did esteem and much admire the said Princess, and much -appreciate her beauty, albeit she was coming nigh the decline of her -years, which might then be something over forty; yet was no sign of -change or decay in her, her Autumn altogether surpassing other women’s -Summer. None can do other than think highly of this fair Princess, -seeing how beautiful she was, and yet did safeguard her widowhood -to the tomb, and so inviolably and chastely, indulging in no third -marriage, keep her faith to the manes of her husband. - -She did die within a year after hearing the news of her being Queen of -Denmark, whence she did spring, and the Kingdom of which had fallen to -her. In this wise before her death she did see her title of Highness, -the which she had borne so long, changed to that of Majesty, which yet -was hers but a short while, less than six months in all. I ween she -would gladly enough have borne the old title still, an if she could -have kept therewith her erstwhile bloom of youth and beauty, for truly -all empires and kingdoms be as nothing compared with youth. Natheless -was it an honour and consolation to her before her death to bear this -name of Queen; but for all this, by what I have heard say, she was firm -resolved not to go to her kingdom, but to finish out the rest of her -days on her jointure lands in Italy, at Tortona. And the folk of that -country did call her naught else but the Lady of Tortona—not a very -grand title and quite unworthy of her. Thither she had retired a good -while before her decease, as well for sake of certain vows she had -sworn to perform at the holy places of that region, as to be nearer -the baths of those parts; for she had fallen into bad health and grown -exceeding gouty. - -Her life was spent in very pious, holy and honourable -exercises,—praying God and giving much alms and charity toward the -poor, and above all toward widows, among whom she did not forget the -unfortunate Madame Castellane of Milan, the which we have seen at Court -dragging out a miserable existence, had it not been for the help of -the Queen Mother, which did always provide her somewhat to live on. -She was daughter of the Princess of Macedonia, being a scion of that -great house. Myself have seen her a venerable and aged dame; and she -had been governess to her Highness. The latter, learning the extreme -poverty wherein the poor lady did live, sent to seek her out, and had -her brought to her side and did treat her so well she never more felt -the sore distress she had endured in France. - -Such is the summary account I have been able to give of this great -and noble Princess, and how, a widow and a very beautiful woman, she -lived a most wise and prudent life. True, it may be said she was -married previously to the Duke Sforza. Well and good! but he did die -immediately after, and they were married less than a year, and she was -made a widow at fifteen or sixteen. Whereupon her uncle the Emperor -did wed her to the Duke of Lorraine, the better to strengthen himself -in his divers alliances. But once again she was widowed in the flower -of her age, having enjoyed her fine marriage but a very few years. -The days which were left her, the best of her life and those most -highly to be valued and most delightfully to be enjoyed, these she did -deliberately spend in a retired and chaste widowhood. - -Well! seeing I am on the subject, I must e’en speak of some other fair -widows in briefest phrase,—and first of one of former days, that noble -widow, Blanche de Montferrat,[111*] one of the great and ancient -houses of Italy, which was Duchess of Savoy and the most beauteous and -most perfect Princess of her time, and one of the most prudent and well -advised. So well and wisely did she govern her son’s minority and his -lands, that never was seen so prudent a dame and so excellent a mother, -left a widow as she was at three and twenty. - -She it was which did receive so honourably the young King Charles -VIII., on his way to his Kingdom of Naples, in all her lands, and -above all in her good town of Turin, where she did afford him a very -stately entry. Herself was pleased to be present, and did walk in the -progress very sumptuously attired, showing she well understood her -dignity as a great lady; for she was in imposing array, clad in a long -robe of cloth of gold fretted, and all bordered with great diamonds, -rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and other rich jewels. Her head likewise -was encircled with the like precious stones, while at her neck she -wore a necklace or collar of huge Oriental pearls of priceless worth, -and on her arms bracelets of the same. She was mounted on a fine white -hackney, very magnificently caparisoned and led by six tall lackeys, -dressed in figured cloth of gold. Following her came a large company of -damsels, very richly, neatly and charmingly dressed in the Piedmontese -fashion, that ’twas a pleasure to see them, and after these a very -strong body of gentlemen and knights of the country. Then after her -train did enter and march into the city King Charles himself under a -rich canopy of state, lighting down at length at the Castle, where -he was lodged. There at the Gate, before entering in, the Duchess of -Savoy did present her son to him, which was yet a mere boy; after which -she did make him a very excellent speech of welcome, putting at his -service all her lands and goods, both her own and those of her son. -This courtesy the King did accept with gratitude, thanking her heartily -and expressing great obligation to her. Through all the city were to -be seen the scutcheons of France and of Savoy, bound together with a -true lovers’ knot, uniting the two scutcheons and the two blazons, -with these words, _Sanguinis arctus amor_ (Close the tie of blood), as -described in the _Chronicle of Savoy_.[112*] - -I have heard sundry of our fathers and mothers, which had it of their -own parents as eye-witnesses, and in especial of the noble lady, the -Séneschale de Poitou, my grandmother, who was then a maid of honour -at the Court, declare how in those days naught else was talked of but -the beauty, wisdom and prudence of this same Princess, and how all the -Courtiers and gallants of the King’s suite, when they were returned -back to France from their journey thither, were forever discoursing of -her and entertaining the dames and damsels of the Court with praises of -her beauty and virtue, and the King more than any, which did show every -sign of being smit to the heart with love for so beautiful a lady. - -Yet apart from her beauty altogether, he had much occasion to love her -well; for she did help him by every means she could, and did even strip -her of all her precious stones, pearls and jewelry, to lend them him to -raise money on in whatsoever way seemed good to him. This was indeed a -great obligation and sacrifice, seeing what great attachment women do -always have for their precious stones, rings and jewelry, so as they -would almost rather lend and put in pawn some precious part of their -own body than their wealth of such things; I mean some would, though -not of course all. At any rate the kindness done was a very great -one; for but for this generosity, and likewise that of the Marquise -de Montferrat, another very noble and very fair lady, he would have -come to downright shame in no long time, and must have returned from -his expedition before it was half done, having undertaken the same -without money. Herein he was in the like sorry case with a certain -French Bishop that went to the Council of Trent without money and -without Latin. Verily a putting to sea without biscuit! Yet is there -a difference ’twixt the two; for what the one did was of his fine, -high spirit and noble ambition, the which did close his eyes to all -inconveniences, finding naught impossible to a brave heart, whereas the -other was in lack both of mother wit and proper experience, offending -out of sheer ignorance and stupidity, unless indeed it were that he -hoped to send round the bag when he got to his destination. - -In the description given of this magnificent entry I have spoke of -just above, is to be noted the splendour of the attire and adornments -of this same Princess, which were more in accord (some will say) with -what is becoming a wife than a widow. On this the ladies did say at -the time that, to welcome so great a King, she might well be excused -so far, albeit he did hardly claim so great expenditure; and further -that great folk, men and women, be a law to themselves, and that in -those days widows, so they said, were not so straightlaced and exact -in their dress as they have been for the last forty years. The fact -is a certain great lady I wot of, being in high favour with a King, -indeed his mistress, did dress her somewhat in more quiet and modest -garb than most, yet always in silk, to the end she might the better -conceal and hide her game; wherefore the widows then at Court, being -fain to imitate her, did adopt the same fashion. Natheless was she by -no means so strict with herself, nor so stern in her moderation, but -that she dressed both prettily and richly, only all in black and white, -displaying more worldliness therein than did exactly accord with strict -widow’s weeds, and in especial ever making a point of showing her -beautiful bosom. - -Myself did hear the Queen, mother of King Henri III., on occasion -of the coronation and marriage of that monarch, say the same: how -that widows in days gone by had not the same carefulness as to their -attire, modest bearing and strict life, as nowadays. She had seen this -in the time of King Francis, who did love an easy-going Court in all -respects. Widows did even dance thereat, and were taken as partners -as readily as maids or wives. In fact she did once command and beg M. -de Vaudemont,[113*] by way of honouring the occasion, to lead out the -Dowager Princess of Condé to the dance. This he did, and danced a full -round with her, as they which were present for the coronation, as I was -myself, did see and well remember. Such the freedom widows did then -enjoy. Nowadays all this is forbid them as if ’twere a sacrilege, as -also the wearing of colours, for none now dare wear aught but black -and white; though as for underskirts and petticoats, these as well -as their stockings, may be grey, drab, violet or blue. Some indeed I -have seen which have so far indulged them as to adopt red, scarlet and -chamois-yellow, as in former days; for they could then wear any colour -for bodices and stockings, though not for robes, by what I am told. - -Moreover this same Duchess we have been speaking of might well enough -wear such a robe of cloth of gold, seeing ’twas her proper ducal habit -and state costume, and therefore becoming and lawful, for to display -the sovranty and high dignity of her exalted rank. And this is even now -done by our Countesses and Duchesses, the which can and do wear the -robes belonging to their several orders on state occasions. Only our -widows of to-day dare under no circumstances wear jewelry, except only -in rings, and on mirrors and _Books of Hours_ and the like, and set in -handsome belts, but not on neck or arms, or even any great display of -pearls in necklaces and bracelets. Yet I do declare solemnly I have -seen widows as becomingly attired in their white and black, and every -whit as attractively, as some of our tawdrily dressed wives and maids. - - - 5. - -However enough said concerning this foreign Princess. ’Tis time to -say somewhat of our French Princesses, and I would wish first to deal -with our fair and unsullied Queen, Louise de Lorraine,[114*] wife of -King Henri III., late deceased. This Princess can and ought to be -commended on many grounds. In her marriage she did bear her towards -the King her husband so wisely, modestly and loyally, as that the knot -wherewith she was bound in wedlock with him did always remain so firm -and indissoluble, no breaking or slackness of the same was ever found, -and this although the King did sometimes wander elsewhither to satisfy -his passions, as great folks will, the which have a special freedom -accorded them. Beside this, quite at the very beginning of their -married life, in fact within ten days of their union, he did give her -no slight cause for displeasure, for that he did deprive her of her -women of the chamber and maids of honour, which had ever been with her -and in her service, when still a girl, whereat she was exceeding sorry. -’Twas a heavy blow to her affection, in especial for Mlle. de Changy, -a very fair and most honourable damsel, and one little deserving to be -banished the company of her mistress and expelled the Court. Indeed -’tis ever a sore despite to lose a trusty companion and confidante. -I have heard how one day a lady, one of her most privy friends, was -presuming enough to chide her and urge, by way of jest and half-serious -flaunt, that, seeing she could never have children by the King, for -many reasons then commonly alleged, she would do well to borrow secret -aid of some third person, for to have offspring, to the end she might -not be left without authority, supposing her husband did chance to die, -but might some day very like be Queen Mother of a King of France, and -hold the same rank and high estate as the Queen mother-in-law. But the -lady did long regret her counsel, semi-burlesque as it was; for the -Queen took the same exceeding ill, and did never after like her worthy -adviser, preferring to base her dignity on her chastity and virtuous -life rather than on a lineage sprung of evil-doing. Still the advice, -in a worldly point of view and according to Machiavelli’s doctrine, was -not to be despised. - -Very different was the behaviour, so ’tis said, of Queen Mary of -England, third wife of King Louis XII. Being but ill-content and -distrustful of the feebleness of the King her husband, she was fain to -sound these waters for herself, taking for guide in crossing the ford -the noble Comte d’Angoulême, the same which was afterward King Francis, -then a young, handsome and charming Prince, to whom she did show much -favour, always addressing him as “My excellent son-in-law;” as indeed -he was, having already married Madame Claude, daughter of King Louis. -The fact is she was smit with love for him; and he on seeing her was -in much the same case. The end was the pair were very nigh coming -together, the which they would surely have done but for the late M. -de Grignaux,[115*] a nobleman of honour and good birth from Périgord, -a prudent and well advised man, who had been gentleman in waiting to -the Queen Anne, as we have above said, and was so still to Queen Mary. -He seeing the play was very like to come off, did chide the aforesaid -Comte d’Angoulême for the fault he was about to commit, saying with an -angry energy: “Nay! by the Risen God (this was his favourite oath), -what would you be at? See you not this woman, keen and cunning as she -is, is fain to draw you to her, to the end you may get her with child? -But an if she come to have a son, what of you? You are still plain -Comte d’Angoulême, and never King of France, as you do hope to be. The -King her husband is old, and cannot now make her children. You must -needs meddle and go with her, you with your young hot blood, and she -the same, and by the Risen Lord! the end will be she will just catch on -like a limed bird, conceive you a child, and there you are! After that -you’ve only to say, ‘Goodbye! my chance of the fair Kingdom of France!’ -Wherefore I say, reflect.” - -In fact the said Queen was for practising and proving true the Spanish -saw or proverb, which saith, _munca muger aguda murio sin herederos_, -“no clever woman ever died without heirs;” or in other words, an if -her husband make her none, she will call in other help to get her end. -Now M. d’Angoulême _did_ reflect and sware he was going to be wise -and refrain; yet tried and tempted again and again with the wiles -and advances of the fair Englishwoman, did presently throw him more -fiercely than ever into the pursuit of her. Such the effects of love -and passion! such the power of a mere bit of flesh and blood, that for -its sake men will surrender kingdoms and empires, and altogether lose -the same, as we find over and over again in History. Eventually M. de -Grignaux, seeing the young man was bent on his own undoing and the -carrying further of his amour, told Madame d’Angoulême, his mother, of -the matter, which did so reprove and smartly chide him, as that he gave -up the sport once and for all. - -None the less ’tis said the Queen did all she could to live and reign -as Queen Mother for some little while before and after the death of the -King her husband. However she lost him too soon, and had no sufficient -time to carry through her purpose. Yet even so, she did spread the -report, after the King’s death, that she was pregnant. Accordingly, -albeit naught really inside her belly, ’tis said she would swell out -the outside thereof by means of linen wrappages gradually more and more -every day, and that when her full time was come, she did propose to -have ready a supposititious child of another woman, and produce this -at the instant of her pretended delivery. But the Queen Regent, which -was from Savoy and knew somewhat about child-bearing and the like, -seeing things were going somewhat too fast for her and her son, had -her so well watched and examined of physicians and midwives, that her -wrappages and clouts being noted, she was found out and baulked in her -design, and instead of being Queen Mother was incontinently sent back -to her own country. - -See the difference betwixt this Princess Mary and our good Queen -Louise, which was so wise, chaste and virtuous, she did never desire, -whether by true or false pretence, to be Queen Mother. But an if she -had wished to play the like game as other, there would have been little -difficulty, for there was none to watch her with any care,—and ’twould -have sore surprised not a few. And for her behaviour our present King -doth owe her much thanks, and should love and honour her greatly; for -an if she had played this game, and had brought forward an infant, her -own or another’s, the King instead of being what he is, would have been -but a Regent of France, mayhap not even that. And this feeble title -would ill have guarded him from many more wars and troubles than he -hath actually had. - -I have heard some, both men of religion and of the world, hold and -maintain this opinion: that our Queen would have done better to have -played this part, and that in that case France would never have endured -so much wretchedness, poverty and ruin as she hath now, and is like -to have, and the True Faith better supported into the bargain. As to -this I can but refer me to those gallant and curious questioners which -do debate these points (but myself do believe never a word of it, for -we be all right well satisfied with our King, God save him!) for them -to pronounce judgment thereon; for they have a fine subject, and one -admitting wide discussion as to the State’s best interests, though -not as to God’s, as seemeth me. To Him our Queen hath always been -deeply devoted, loving and adoring Him so well, that to serve Him, -she would e’en forget herself and her high estate. For being a very -beauteous Princess (the King indeed did choose her for her beauty and -high virtues), and young, tender and most charming, she did give up -herself to naught else but only to serve God, do her devotions, visit -constantly the hospitals, heal the sick and bury the dead, forgetting -nor omitting any of the good and holy works which in this province the -holy devout and righteous ladies, Princesses and Queens of days of -yore, did practise in the early Church. After the death of her husband, -she did ever lead the same life, spending her time in weeping and -mourning for him, beseeching God for his soul; and in fact her life as -a widow was of the same holy character as her married life had been. - -’Tis true she was supposed, during her husband’s lifetime, to have -leaned somewhat to the side of the party of the _Union_, because, being -so good a Christian and Catholic as she was, she did naturally prefer -them which were fighting and contending for her Faith and Religion; yet -did she never more favour them, but quitted their faction altogether, -after their assassination of her husband, though claiming no other -vengeance of punishment as a right but what it should please God to -inflict, not that she did not duly petition men, and above all our -King, with whom lieth the performing of justice for this monstrous deed -of a man of religion.[116] Thus both an married life and widowhood, -did this excellent Princess live blameless. Eventually she died in the -enjoyment of a most noble and worthy repute, having long languished -in sickness and grown hectic and parched,—’twas said owing to her -overmuch indulgence in sorrow. She made a very excellent and pious end. -Just before her death, she had her crown placed at the head of her bed -close beside her, and would never have it removed from there so long as -she yet lived, directing that after her death she should be crowned and -so remain till her body was laid beneath the ground. - -She did leave behind her a sister, Madame de Joyeuse,[117*] which was -her counterpart in her chaste and modest life, and did make great -mourning and lamentation for her husband; and verily he was a brave, -valiant and well accomplished Lord. Beside, I have heard say, how when -our present King was in such straits, and shut up and imprisoned as -in a bag in Dieppe, which the Duc du Maine held invested with forty -thousand men, that an if she had been in the place of the Commander of -the town De Chastes, she would have had revenge of the death of her -husband in a very different fashion from the said worthy Commander, -who for the obligations he lay under to M. de Joyeuse, ought never -to have surrendered, in her opinion. Nor did she ever like the man -afterward, but did hate him worse than the plague, being unable to -excuse a fault as he had committed, albeit others deem him to have -kept faith and loyalty according to his promises. But then an angry -woman, be the original cause of offence just or unjust, will take no -satisfaction; and this was the way with this Princess, who could never -bring herself to like our reigning monarch, though she did sore regret -the late King and wore mourning for him, and this although she did -belong to the _League_; for she always declared both her husband and -she did lie under many obligations to him. In fine, she is a good and -a wise Princess, and one that is honoured by the grief and respect -she did show to the ashes of her husband,—for some while that is, for -eventually she did marry again with M. de Luxembourg. So young as she -was, was she to consume away in vain regrets forever? - - - 6. - -The Duchesse de Guise, Catherine of Clèves, one of the three daughters -of the house of Nevers (all three Princesses that can surely never be -enough commended, no less for their beauty than for their virtue and on -whom I have writ a separate chapter in another place), hath celebrated -and doth celebrate all her days in right worthy fashion the irreparable -loss of her noble husband; but indeed what a husband was he! He was -truly the nonpareil of the world, and this and no less she did call -him in sundry of her letters, the which she writ to some of her most -familiar friends and lady companions, which myself also did see after -her bereavement, showing them plainly therein by the sad and mournful -words she used with what sore regrets her soul was wounded. - -Her noble sister-in-law, Madame de Montpensier,[118*] of whom I do -hope to speak further elsewhere, did also bewail her husband bitterly. -Albeit she did lose him when still very young, and beautiful and -charming for many perfections both of mind and body, she did never -think of marrying again,—and this although she had wedded him when a -mere child in years, and he might have been her grandfather, so that -she had tasted but sparely with him of the fruits of wedlock. Yet -would she never consent to indulge a second taste of the same and make -up her defect and arrears in that kind by another marriage. - -I have heard not a few noblemen, gentlemen and great ladies oftentimes -express their wonder that the Princesse de Condé, the Dowager Princess -I mean, of the house of Longueville, did always refuse to marry again, -seeing how she was one of the most beautiful ladies in all France, -and one of the most desirable. But she did remain satisfied with her -condition of widowhood, and would never take a second husband, and this -though left a widow very young. - -The Marquise de Rothelin, her mother, did the like, who beautiful -woman as she was, died a widow. Verily mother and daughter both might -well have set afire a whole kingdom with their lovely eyes and sweet -looks, the which were renowned at Court and through France for the -most charming and alluring ever seen. And doubtless they did fire many -hearts; yet never a word was ever to be spoke of love or marriage, both -having loyally kept the faith once pledged to their dead husbands, and -never married again. - -I should never have done if I were to name all the Princesses of our -Kings’ Courts in similar case. I must e’en defer their panegyric to -another place. So I will leave them now, and say somewhat of sundry -other ladies, which though no Princesses, be yet of as illustrious race -and generous heart as they. - -Fulvia Mirandola, Madame de Randan, of the noble house of Admirande, -did remain unwed, though left a widow in the flower of her age and -her exquisite beauty. So great mourning did she make over her loss, -that never more would she deign to look at herself in her mirror, -but refused the sight of her lovely face to the pellucid crystal that -was so fain to see the same. Her act though not her words were like -those of an ancient dame, which breaking her mirror and dedicating the -fragments to Venus, spake these words to the Goddess: - - Dico tibi Veneri speculum, quai cernere talem - Qualis sum nolo, qualis eram nequeo. - - (To thee, Venus, I do dedicate my mirror, for such as I am now, I - care not to see myself, and such as I was, I cannot more.) - -Not that Madame de Randan did scorn her mirror for this reason, for -indeed she was very beautiful, but by reason of a vow she had made to -her husband’s shade, who was one of the best and noblest gentlemen of -all France. For his sake she did altogether leave the world and its -vanities, dressing her always very soberly. She wore a veil habitually, -never showing her hair; yet spite of careless head-dress and her -neglect of appearances, her great beauty was none the less manifest. -The late M. de Guise, late deceased, was used always to call her naught -but _the nun_; for she was attired and put on like a religious. This he -would say by way of jest and merriment with her; for he did admire and -honour her greatly, seeing how well affectioned and attached she was to -his service and all his house. - -Madame de Carnavalet, twice a widow, did refuse to wed for the third -time with M. d’Espernon, then known as M. de la Valette the younger, -and at the commencement of his high favour at Court. So deep was he -in love with her, that unable to get of her what he would so fain have -had, for truly she was a very lovely widow and very charming, he did -follow her up persistently and press her sore to marry him, inducing -the King three or four times over to speak to her in his favour. Yet -would she never put herself again under a husband’s yoke. She had been -married twice, her first husband being the Comte de Montravel, the -second M. de Carnavalet. And when her most privy friends, myself first -and foremost, who was much her admirer, did chide her for her fault -she was committing in refusing so high a match, one that would place -her in the very midmost and focus of greatness, wealth, riches, favour -and every dignity, seeing how M. de la Valette was chiefest favourite -of the King, and deemed of him only second to himself, she would -answer: that her delight lay not at all in these things, but in her own -free-will and the perfect liberty and satisfaction. - -Madame de Bourdeille, sprung of the illustrious and ancient house of -Montbron and of the Counts of Périgord and Viscounts of Aunay, being -left a widow at the age of seven or eight and thirty, a very beautiful -woman (and I do think that in all Guienne, of which province she was, -was never another that in her day did surpass her in beauty, charm and -good looks, for indeed she had one of the finest, tallest and most -gracious figures could anywhere be seen, and if the body was fair the -mind was to match), being so desirable and now widowed, was wooed and -sought after in marriage by three great and wealthy Lords. To them all -she made reply as follows: “I will not say, as many dames do, that they -will never, never marry again, adding such asseverations you can in -no wise doubt their firm intention. But I am ready to declare that, -unless God and my carnal being give me not very different desire to -what I feel at this present, and change me utterly, I have very surely -said farewell forever to matrimony.” Then when another did further -object: “Nay! Madam, but would you wish to burn away in the flower of -your age?” she added: “I wot not what you mean by burning away; but -I do assure you that up to the present hour, it hath never yet been -possible for me to warm me even, all alone in my bed which is widowed -and cold as ice. Yet in the company of a second husband, I say not but -that, coming nigh his fire, I might not mayhap burn as you say. But -forasmuch as cold is more easy to endure than heat, I am resolved to -continue in my present condition, and abstain from a second marriage.” -And this resolve she did so express, she hath kept to this day, having -remained a widow twelve years, without losing aught of her beauty, ever -maintaining and holding sacred one fixed determination. This is truly a -great obligation to her husband’s ashes, and a testimony how well she -loved him, as well as an exceeding binding claim on her children to -honour her memory forever, seeing how she did end her days a widow. - -The late M. d’Estrozze was one of the aspirants to her hand, and had -had his wishes conveyed to her. But great, noble and allied with the -Queen Mother as he was, she did refuse the match, excusing herself in -seemly terms. Yet what a strange humour, after all, to be beautiful, -honourable and a very rich heiress, and finish out one’s days over -a pen or a solitary seam, lone and cold as ice, and spend so many -widowed nights! Oh! how many dames there be of a very different -complexion,—though not a few also of the like! But an if I were for -citing all these, I should never have ended; and especially if I should -include among our Christian ladies those of pagan times. Of these was -that right fair, and good and gentle Roman lady of yore, Martia, second -daughter of Cato of Utica, sister to Portia, who after losing her -husband incessantly bewailing the said loss, being asked when would be -the last day of her mourning, did make answer ’twould be only when the -last day of her life should come. Moreover being both very beautiful -and very rich, she was more than once asked when she would marry again, -to which she replied: “’Twill be when I can find a man that will marry -me rather for my merits than for my wealth.” And God knoweth she was -both rich and beautiful, and no less virtuous, than either, nay! far -more so; else had she not been Cato’s daughter nor Portia’s sister. Yet -did she pass this rebuff on her lovers and suitors, and would have it -they did seek her for her wealth and not for her merits and virtues, -albeit she was as well furnished with these as any. Thus did she -readily rid her of these importunate gallants. - -Saint Jerome in a letter he wrote to one Principia, a virgin, doth -celebrate the praises of a gentle Roman lady of his time, which was -named Marcella, of a good and noble house, and sprung from a countless -line of consuls, pro-consuls, Praetors, and one that had been left a -widow very young. She was much sought after, both for her youth and -for the antiquity of her house, as well as for her lovely figure, the -which did singularly entrance the will of men (so saith Saint Jerome, -using these very words; note his observation), and her seemly mien -and virtuous character. Among other suitors was a rich and high-born -Roman Lord, likewise of Consular rank, and by name Cerealis, which did -eagerly seek to persuade her to give him her hand in second marriage. -Being something far stricken in years, he did promise her great wealth -and superb gifts as chiefest advantage in the match. Above all her -mother, Albina by name, did strongly urge her to the marriage, thinking -it an excellent offer and one not lightly to be refused. But she made -answer: “An if I had any wish to throw myself in the water and entangle -me in the bonds of a second marriage, and not rather vow me to a -second chastity, yet would I fain prefer to get me an husband rather -an inheritance.” Then, the lover deeming she had said this with an eye -to his advanced age, he made reply: that old folk might very well live -long, and young ones die early. But she retorted: “True, the young may -die early, but an old man cannot live long.” At which word he did take -umbrage, and so left her. I find this fair lady’s saying admirable and -her resolve most commendable. - -Not less so was that of Martia, named above, whose behaviour was not -so open to reproof as that of her sister Portia. For the latter, after -the death of her husband, did determine to live no longer, but kill -herself. Then all instruments of iron being removed, wherewith she -might have taken her life, she did swallow live coals, and so burned -all her inwards, declaring that for a brave woman means can never be -lacking whereby to contrive her death. This hath been well told by -Martial in one of his Epigrams, writ expressly on this lady’s fate, and -a fine poem it is. Yet did she not, according to certain philosophers, -and in especial Aristotle in his Ethics, (speaking of courage or -fortitude) show herein any high degree of courage or magnanimity in -killing herself, as many others have done, and her own husband; for -that, to avoid a greater ill, they do throw themselves upon the less. -On this point I have writ a discourse elsewhere. - -Be this as it may, ’twould surely have been better, had this same -Portia rather devoted her days to mourning her husband and avenging -his death than in contriving her own. For this did serve no good end -whatsoever, except mayhap a gratification of her own pique, as I have -heard some women say in blame of her action. Natheless for myself, I -cannot enough commend her, and all other widows, which do show their -love for their dead husbands as lively as in their lifetime. And this -is why Saint Paul hath so highly praised and commended them, holding -this doctrine of his great Master. Yet have I been taught of some of -the most clear sighted and most eloquent persons I know, that beautiful -young widows which do remain in that condition in the very flower of -their sweet age and heyday of their life, do exercise an over great -cruelty upon themselves and nature, so to conspire against their own -selves, and refuse to taste again the gentle joys of a second marriage. -This much doth divine law no less than human allow them, as well as -nature, youth and beauty; yet must they needs abstain in obedience -to some vow and obstinate resolve, the which they have fantastically -determined in their silly heads to keep to the vain and empty simulacra -of their husbands, that standing like sentinels forgot in the other -world, and dwelling yonder in the Elysian fields, be either altogether -careless of them and their doings or mayhap do but deride the same. -On this question generally all such dames should refer them to the -eloquent remonstrances and excellent arguments the which Anna doth -bring forward to her sister Dido, in the Fourth Book of the Aeneid. -These be most excellent for to teach a fair young widow not over -sternly to swear a vow of never altering her condition, rather out of -bigotry than real religion. An if after their husbands’ death, they -should be crowned with fair chaplets of flowers or herbs, as was the -custom of yore, and as is still done with young maids in our day, this -triumph would be good and creditable while it lasted, and not of over -long duration. But now all that may be given them, is a few words of -admiration, the which do vanish into air so soon as spoken and perish -as quick as the dead man’s corse. Well then, let all fair young widows -recognise the world and its claims, since they be of it still, and -leave religion to old women and the strait rule to perpetual widowhood. - - - 7. - -Well! enough said of widows which go fasting. ’Tis time now to speak -of another sort, to wit those which detesting all vows and abnegations -against second marriages, do wed again and once more claim the aid of -the gentle and agreeable God Hymen. Of such there be some which, over -fond of their admirers during their husband’s life, be already dreaming -of another match before these be well dead, planning aforehand betwixt -them and their lovers the sort of life they will lead together: “Ah, -me! an if mine husband were but dead,” they say, “we would do this, -we would do that; we would live after this pleasant fashion, we would -arrange it after that,—and all so discreetly none should ever suspect -our bygone loves. A right merry life we would have of it then; we -would go to Paris, to Court, and bear us so wisely naught should ever -do us hurt. You would pay court to such and such a great lady, I to -such and such a great nobleman; we would get this from the King, and -that. We would get our children provided with tutors and guardians, and -have never a care for their property and governance. Rather would we -be making our fortunes, or else enjoying theirs, pending their coming -of age. We would have plenishing enough, with that of mine husband to -boot; the last for sure we could not lack, for I wot well where be the -title deeds and good crown pieces. In a word, who so happy as we should -be?”—and so on and so on. - -Such the fine words and pleasant plans these wives do indulge in to -their lovers by anticipation. Some of them do only kill their husbands -in wishes, words, hopes and longings; but others there be that do -actually haste them on the way to the tomb, if they be over laggard. -Cases of this sort have been, and are yet to-day, more plenty before -our Courts of Law and Parliaments than any would suppose. But verily -’tis better and more agreeable they do not as did a certain Spanish -dame. For being ill treated of her husband, she did kill him, and -afterward herself, having first writ this epitaph following, which she -left on the table in her closet, indited in her own hand: - - Aqui yaze qui a buscado una muger, - Y con ella casado, no l’ha podido hazer muger, - A las otras, no a mi, cerca mi, dava contentamiento, - Y pore este, y su flaqueza y atrevimiento, - Yo lo he matado, - Por le dar pena de su pecado: - Ya my tan bien, por falta de my juyzio, - Y por dar fin à la mal-adventura qu’yo aviô. - - (Here lieth one which did seek a wife, yet could not satisfy a - wife; to other women, but not me, though near me, he would give - contentment. And for this, and for his cowardice and insolence, I - have killed him, to punish him for his sins. Myself likewise I have - done to death, for lack of understanding, and to make an end of the - unhappy life I had.) - -This lady was named Donna Madallena de Soria, the which, in the -judgment of some, did a fine thing to kill her husband for the wrong he -had done her; but did no less foolishly to slay herself,—and indeed she -doth admit as much, saying “for lack of understanding she did herself -to death.” She had done better to have led a merry life afterward, -were it not, mayhap, she did fear the law and dread to get within its -clutches, wherefore she did prefer to triumph over herself rather than -trust her repute to the authority of the Judges. I can assure you, -there have always been, and are yet women more astute than this; for -they do play their game so cunningly and covertly, that lo! you have -the husband gone to another world, and themselves living a merry life -and getting their complaisant gallants to give ’em no mere artificial -joys with _godemiches_ and the like, but the good, sound, real article. - -Other widows there be which do show more wisdom, virtue and love toward -their late husbands, with never a suspicion of cruelty toward these. -Rather they do mourn, lament and bewail them with such extremity of -sorrow you would think they would not live one hour more. “Alackaday!” -they cry, “am not I the most unhappy woman in all the world, and the -most ill-starred to have lost so precious a possession? Gracious God! -why dost not kill me straight, that I may follow him presently to the -tomb? Nay! I care not to live on after him; for what is left me in -this world or can ever come to me, to give me solace? An it were not -for these babes he hath left me in pledge, and that they do yet need -some stay, verily I would kill myself this very minute. Cursed be the -hour ever I was born! If only I might see his ghost, or behold him in -a vision or dream, or by some magic art, how blessed should I be e’en -now! Oh! sweetheart, sweet soul! can I in no way follow thee in death? -Yea! I will follow thee, so soon as, free from all human hindrance, -I may be alone and do myself to death. What could make my life worth -living, now I have had so irreparable a loss? With thee alive I could -have no other wish but to live; with thee dead, no wish but only to -die! Well, well! is’t not better for me to die now in thy love and -favour and mine own good repute and satisfaction, than to drag on so -sorrowful and unhappy a life, wherein is never a scrap of credit to be -gotten? Great God! what ills and torments I endure by thine absence! -what a sweet deliverance, an if I might but see thee soon again, what -a crown of bliss! Alas! he was so handsome, he was so lovable! He was -another Mars, another Adonis! and more than all, he was so kind, and -loved me so true, and treated me so fondly! In one word, in losing him, -I have lost all mine happiness.” - -Such and an infinity of the like words do our heart-broken widows -indulge in after the death of their husbands. Some will make their -moan in one way, others in another, but always something to the effect -of what I have set down. Some do cry out on heaven, others curse this -earth of ours; some do blaspheme God, others vent their spleen on the -world. Some again do feign to swoon, while others counterfeit death; -some faint away, and others pretend to be mad and desperate and out of -their wits, knowing no one and refusing to speak. In a word, I should -never have done, if I were to try to specify all the false, feigned, -affected tricks they do use for to prove their grief and mourning to -the world. Of course I speak not of all, but of some, and a fine few -these be and a good round number. - -Good folk of either sex that would console suchlike doleful widows, -thinking no ill and supposing their grief genuine, do but lose their -pains and none is a whit the better. Others again of these comforters, -when they see the poor suffering object of their solicitude failing to -keep up the farce and make the proper grimaces, do instruct them in -their part, like a certain great lady I wot of, which would tell her -daughter, “Now faint, my pet; you don’t show near enough concern.” - -Then presently, after all these wondrous rites performed, just like -a torrent that after dashing headlong down its course, doth anon -subside again and quietly return to its bed, or like a river that hath -overflowed its banks, so you will see these widows recover them and -return to their former complexion, gradually get back their spirits, -begin to be merry once again and dream of worldly vanities. Instead of -the death’s-heads they were used to wear, whether painted, engraven -or in relief, instead of dead men’s bones set crosswise or enclosed -in coffins, instead of tears, whether of jet or of enamelled gold, or -simply painted, you will see them now adopt portraits of their husbands -worn round the neck, though still adorned with death’s-heads and tears -painted in scrolls and the like, in fact sundry little gewgaws, yet -all so prettily set off that spectators suppose they do use and wear -the same rather by way of mourning for their deceased husbands than -for worldly show. Then presently, just as we see young birds, whenas -they quit the parental nest, do not at the very first make very long -flights, but fluttering from branch to branch do little by little -learn the use of their wings, so these widows, quitting their mourning -habits and desperate grief, do not appear in public at once, but taking -greater and greater freedom by degrees, do at last throw off their -mourning altogether, and toss their widows’ weeds and flowing veil to -the dogs, as the saying is, and letting love more than ever fill their -heads, do dream of naught else but only a second marriage or other -return to wanton living. So we find their great and violent sorrow -hath no long duration. It had been better far to have exercised more -moderation in their sorrow. - -I knew once a very fair lady, which after her husband’s death was so -woebegone and utterly cast down that she would tear her hair, and -disfigure her cheeks and bosom, pulling the longest face ever she -could. And when folk did chide her for doing such wrong to her lovely -countenance, “My God!” she would cry, “what would you have? What use is -my pretty face to me now? Who should I safeguard it for, seeing mine -husband is no more?” Yet some eight months later, who but she is making -up her face with Spanish white and rouge and besprinkling her locks -with powder,—a marvellous change truly? - -Hereof I will cite an excellent example, for to prove my contention, -that of a fair and honourable lady of Ephesus, which having lost her -husband could find no consolation whatever in spite of all efforts of -kinsmen and friends. Accordingly following her husband’s funeral, with -endless grief and sorrow, with sobs, cries, tears and lamentations, -after he was duly put away in the charnel-house where his body was to -rest, she did throw herself therein in spite of all that could be done -to hinder, swearing and protesting stoutly she would never leave that -place, but would there tarry to the end and finish her days beside her -husband’s corpse and never, never abandon the same. This resolution -she did hold to, and did actually so live by the space of two or three -days. Meantime, as fortune would have it, a man of those parts was -executed for some crime and hanged in the city, and afterward carried -forth the walls to the gibbets there situate to the end of the bodies -of malefactors so hanged and put to death should there remain for an -example to others, carefully watched by a band of officers and soldiers -to prevent their being carried off. So it fell out that a soldier that -was guarding the body, and was standing sentry, did hear near by a -very lamentable voice crying and approaching perceived ’twas in the -charnel-house. Having gone down therein, he beheld the said lady, as -fair and beautiful as day, all bathed in tears and lamenting sore; and -accosting her, set him to enquiring the reason of her pitiful state, -the which she told him gently enough. Thereupon doing his endeavours -to console her grief, but naught succeeding for the first time, he did -return again and once again. Finally he was enabled to gain his point, -and did little by little comfort her and got her to dry her eyes; till -at length hearkening to reason, she did yield so far as that he had her -twice over, holding her on her back on the very coffin of her husband, -which did serve as their couch. This done, they did swear marriage, -one with the other; after which happy consummation, the soldier did -return to his duty, to guard the gibbet,—for ’twas a matter of life -and death to him. But fortunate as he had been in this fine enterprise -of his and its carrying out, his misfortune now was such that while he -was so inordinately taking his pleasure, lo! the kinsfolk of the poor -dangling criminal did steal up, for to cut the body down, an if they -should find it unguarded. So finding no guard there, they did cut it -down with all speed, and carried the corpse away with them swiftly, to -bury it where they might, to the end they might rid them of so great -dishonour and a sight so foul and hateful to the dead man’s kindred. -The soldier coming up and finding the body a-missing, hied him in -despair to his mistress, to tell her his calamity and how he was ruined -and undone; for the law of that country was that any soldier which -should sleep on guard and suffer the body to be carried off, should -he put in its place and hanged instead, which risk he did thus run. -The lady, who had but now been consoled of him, and had felt sore need -of comfort for herself, did quick find the like for him, and said as -follows: “Be not afeared; only come help me to lift mine husband from -his tomb, and we will hang him and set him up in place of the other; so -they will take him for the other.” No sooner said than done. Moreover -’tis said the first occupant of the gibbet had had an ear cut off; so -she did the same to the second, the better to preserve the likeness. -Next day the officers of justice did visit the place, but found naught -amiss. Thus did she save her gallant by a most abominable deed and -wicked act toward her husband,—the very same woman, I would have you -note, which had so grievously deplored and lamented his loss, so that -no man would ever have expected so shameful an issue. - -The first time ever I heard this history, ’twas told by M. -d’Aurat,[119*] which did relate it to the gallant M. du Gua and sundry -that were dining with him. M. du Gua was not one to fail to appreciate -such a tale and to profit thereby, no man in all the world loving -better a good anecdote or better able to turn the same to account. -Accordingly soon after, being come into the Queen’s chamber, he saw -there a young, new-made widow, but just bereaved and all disconsolate, -her veil drawn half way down her face, sad and pitiful, with scarce -a word for any man. Of a sudden M. du Gua said to me: “Dost see -yonder widow? well! before a year be out, she will one day be doing -as the lady of Ephesus did.” And so she did, though not altogether so -shamefully; but she did marry a man of base condition, even as M. du -Gua had foretold. - -The same story I had also of M. de Beau-Joyeux, valet of the chamber to -the Queen Mother, and the best violin player in Christendom. Not only -was he perfect in his art and music generally, but he was likewise of -an amiable disposition, and well instructed, above all in excellent -tales and fine stories, little known and of rare quality. Of these he -was by no means niggardly with his more intimate friends, and beside -could relate sundry from his own experience, for in his day he had both -seen many good love adventures and had not a few of his own; for what -with his noble gift of music and his good, bold spirit, two weapons -very meet for love, he could carry far. The Maréchal de Brissac had -given him to the Queen Mother, having sent him to her from Piedmont -with his company of violins, the whole most exquisite and complete. -He was then called Baltazarin, but did after change his name. Of his -composition were those pretty ballets that be always danced at Court. -He was a great friend of M. du Gua and myself; and we would often -converse together. On these occasions he had always some good tale -ready to tell, especially of love and ladies’ wiles. Among such he did -tell us that of the lady of Ephesus, already heard from M. d’Aurat, -as I have mentioned, who said he had it from Lampridius. Since then I -have read it also in the _Book of Obsequies_ (des Funérailles), a right -excellent work, dedicated to the late M. de Savoie. - -The author might surely have spared us this digression, some may -object. Yea!—but then I was fain to make mention of my friend -hereanent, which did oft bring the story to my mind, whenever he beheld -any of our woe-begone widows. “Look!” he would exclaim, “see yonder one -that will some day play the part of our lady of Ephesus, or else mayhap -she hath played it already.” And by my faith, ’twas a mighty strange -tragi-comedy, an act full of heartlessness, so cruelly to insult her -dead husband. - -At the massacre of the Saint Bartholomew was slain the Seigneur de -Pleuviau, who in his time had been a right gallant soldier, without a -doubt, in the War of Tuscany under M. de Soubise, as well as in the -Civil War, as he did plainly show at the battle of Jarnac, being in -command of a regiment there, and in the siege of Niort. Some while -after the soldier which had killed him did inform his late wife, -all distraught with grief and tears,—she was both beautiful and -wealthy,—that an if she would not marry him, he would kill her and make -her go the same way as her husband; for at that merry time, ’twas all -fighting and cut-throat work. The unhappy woman accordingly, which was -still both young and fair, was constrained, for to save her life, to -celebrate wedding and funeral all in one. Yet was she very excusable; -for indeed what could a poor fragile, feeble woman have done else, -unless it had been to kill herself, or give her tender bosom to the -murderous steel? But verily - - Le temps n’est plus, belle bergeronnette, - - (Those days be done, fair shepherdess;) - -and these fond fanatics of yore exist no more. Beside, doth not our -holy Christian faith forbid it? This is a grand excuse for all widows -nowadays, who always say,—and if ’twere not forbid of God, they would -kill themselves. Thus do they mask their inaction. - -At this same massacre was made another widow, a lady of very good -family and most beauteous and charming. The same, while, yet in the -first desolation of widowhood, was forced by a gentleman that I know -well enough by name; whereat was she so bewildered and disconsolate she -did well nigh lose her senses for some while. Yet presently after she -did recover her wits and making the best of her widowhood and going -back little by little to worldly vanities and regaining her natural -lively spirits, did forget her wrongs and make a new match, gallant and -high-born. And in this I ween she did well. - -I will tell yet another story of this massacre. Another lady which was -there made a widow by the death of her husband, murdered like the rest, -was in such sorrow and despair thereat, that whenever she did set eyes -on a poor unoffending Catholic, even though he had not taken part in -the celebration at all, she would either faint away altogether, or -would gaze at him with as much horror and detestation as though he were -the plague. To enter Paris, nay! to look at it from anywhere in the -neighbourhood within two miles, was not to be thought of, for neither -eyes nor heart could bear the sight. To see it, say I?—why! she could -not bear so much as to hear it named. At the end of two years, however, -she did think better, and hies her away willingly enough to greet the -good town, and visit the same, and drive to the Palace in her coach. -Yet rather than pass by the Rue de la Huchette, where her husband had -been killed, she would have thrown herself headlong into fire and -destruction rather than into the said street,—being herein like the -serpent, which according to Pliny, doth so abhor the shade of the ash -as that ’twill rather adventure into the most blazing fire than under -this tree so hateful is it to the creature. - -In fact, the late King, the then reigning King’s brother, was used -to declare he had never seen a woman so desperate and haggard at her -loss and grief as this lady, and that ’twould end by their having to -bring her down and hood her, as they do with haggard falcons. But after -some while he found she was prettily enough tamed of her own accord, -in such sort she would suffer herself to be hooded quite quietly and -privily, without any bringing down but her own will. Then after some -while more, what must she be at but embrace her Paris with open arms -and regard its pleasures with a very favourable eye, parading hither -and thither through its streets, traversing the city up and down, and -measuring its length and breadth this way and that, without ever a -thought of any vow to the contrary. Mighty surprised was I myself one -day, on returning from a journey, after an absence of eight months from -Court, when after making my bow to the King, I did suddenly behold this -same widow entering the great Hall of the Louvre, all tricked out and -bedecked, accompanied by her kinswomen and friends, and there appearing -before the King and Queen, the Royal personages and all the Court, and -there receiving the first orders of marriage, affiancing to wit, at the -hands of a Prelate, the Bishop of Digne, Grand Almoner of the Queen of -Navarre. Who so astonished as I? Yet by what she did tell me after, she -was even more astounded, whenas thinking me far away, she saw me among -the noble company present at her affiancing, standing there gazing at -her and challenging her with mine eyes. Neither of us could forget the -oaths and affirmations made betwixt us, for I had been her admirer and -suitor for her hand and indeed she thought I had come thither of set -purpose to appear on the appointed day to be witness against her and -judge of her faithlessness, and condemn her false behaviour. She told -me further, how that she would liever have given ten thousand crowns of -her wealth than that I should have appeared as I did, and so helped to -raise up her conscience against her. - -I once knew a very great lady, a widowed Countess, of the highest -family, which did the like. For being a Huguenot of the most rigorous -sort, she did agree to a match with a very honourable Catholic -gentleman. But the sad thing was that before the completion of the -marriage, a pestilential fever that was epidemic at Paris did seize her -so sore as to bring her to her end. In her anguish, she did give way -to many and bitter regrets, crying: “Alas! can it be that in a great -city like Paris, where all learning doth abound, never a doctor can be -found to cure me! Nay! let him never stop for money; I will give him -enough and to spare. At any rate ’twere not so bitter, an if my death -had but come after my marriage, and my husband had learned first how -well I loved and honoured him!” (Sophonisba said differently, for she -did repent her of having wedded before drinking the poison.) Saying -these and other words of like tenour the poor Countess did turn her to -the other side of the bed, and so died. Truly this is the very fervour -of love, so to go about to remember, in midst of the Stygian passage to -oblivion, the pleasures and fruits of passion she would so fain have -tasted of, before quitting the garden! - -I have heard speak of another lady, which being sick unto death, -overhearing one of her kinsfolk abusing another (yet are they very -worthy folk really), and upbraiding her with the enormous size of her -parts, she did start a-laughing and cried out, “You pair of fools, -you!” and so turning o’ the other side, she did pass away with the -laugh on her lips. - -Well! an if these Huguenot dames have made such matches, I have -likewise known plenty of Catholic ladies that have done the same, -and wedded Huguenot husbands, and that after using every hang-dog -expression of them and their religion. If I were to put them all -down, I should never have done. And this is why your widow should -always be prudent, and not make so much noise at the first beginning -of her widowhood, screaming and crying, making storms of thunder and -lightning, with tears for rain, only afterward to give up her shield -of defence and get well laughed at for her pains. Better far it were -to say less, and do more. But themselves do say to this: “Nay! nay! at -the first beginning we must needs steel our hearts like a murderer, and -put on a bold front, resolved to swallow every shame. This doth last a -while, but only a while; then presently, after being chief dish on the -table and most observed of all, we be left alone and another takes our -place.” - -I have read in a little Spanish work how Vittoria Colonna, daughter of -the great Fabrice Colonna, and wife to the great and famous Marquis de -Pescaïre, the nonpareil of his time, after losing her husband,—and God -alone knoweth how good an one he was,—did fall into such despair and -grief ’twas impossible to give or afford her any consolation whatever. -When any did offer any form of comfort, old or new, she would answer -them: “For what would you give me consolation?—for my husband that is -dead? Nay! you deceive yourselves; he is not dead. He is yet alive, -I tell you, and stirring within mine heart. I do feel him, every day -and every night, come to life and move and be born again in me.” Very -noble words indeed these had been, if only after some while, having -taken farewell of him and sent him on his way over Acheron, she had -not married again with the Abbé de Farfe,—an ill match to the noble -Pescaïre. I mean not in family, for he was of the noble house of -the Des Ursins, the which is as good, and eke as ancient, as that -of Avalos,—or more so. But the merits of the one did far outweight -those of the other, for truly those of Pescaïre were inestimable, and -his valour beyond compare, while the said Abbé, albeit he gave much -proof of his bravery, and did work very faithfully and doughtily in -the service of King Francis, was yet employed only in small, obscure -and light emprises, far different from those of the other, which had -wrought great and conspicuous deeds, and won right famous victories. -Moreover the profession of arms followed by the Marquis, begun and -regularly pursued from his youth up, could not but be finer far than -that of a churchman, which had but late in life taken up the hardier -calling. - -Saying this, I mean not to imply thereby think ill of any which after -being vowed to God and the service of his Church, have broke the vow -and left the profession of religion for to set hands to weapons of war; -else should I be wronging many and many a great Captain that hath been -a priest first and gone through this experience. - - - 8. - -Cæsar Borgia,[120*] Duc de Valentinois, was he not first of all -a Cardinal, the same which afterward was so great a Captain that -Machiavelli, the venerable instructor of Princes and great folk, doth -set him down for example and mirror to all his fellows, to follow after -and mould them on him? Then we have had the famous Maréchal de Foix, -which was first a Churchman and known as the Protonotary de Foix, but -afterward became a great Captain. The Maréchal Strozzi likewise was -first vowed to holy Church; but for a red hat which was refused him, -did quit the cassock and take to arms. M. de Salvoison, of whom I have -spoke before (which did follow close at the former’s heels, and was as -fit as he to bear the title of great Captain,—and indeed would have -marched side by side with him, an if he had been of as great a house, -and kinsman of the Queen), was, by original profession, a wearer of the -long robe; yet what a soldier was he! Truly he would have been beyond -compare, if only he had lived longer. Then the Maréchal de Bellegarde, -did he not carry the lawyer cap, being long named the Provost of Ours? -The late M. d’Enghien, the same that fell at the battle of St. Quentin, -had been a Bishop; the Chevalier de Bonnivet the same. Likewise that -gallant soldier M. de Martigues had been of the Church; and, in brief, -an host of others, whose names I cannot spare paper to fill in. I must -say a word too of mine own people, and not without good cause. Captain -Bourdeille, mine own brother, erst the Rodomont of Piedmont in -all ways, was first dedicate to the Church. But not finding that to be -his natural bent, he did change his cassock for a soldier’s jacket, and -in a turn of the hand did make him one of the best and most valiant -captains in all Piedmont. He would for sure have become a great and -famous man, had he not died, alas! at only five and twenty years of age. - -In our own day and at our own Court of France, we have seen many such, -and above all our little friend, the noble Clermont-Tallard, whom I -had seen as Abbé of Bon-Port, but who afterward leaving his Abbey, was -seen in our army and at Court, one of the bravest, most valiant and -worthy men of the time. This he did show right well by his glorious -death at La Rochelle, the very first time we did enter the fosse of -that fortress. I could name a thousand such, only I should never have -done. M. de Soleillas,[121] known as the young Oraison, had been Bishop -of Riez and after had a regiment, serving his King right faithfully and -valiantly in Guienne, under the Maréchal de Matignon. - -In short I should never have done, an if I were for enumerating all -such cases. Wherefore I do stop, both for brevity’s sake, and also for -fear I be reproached for that I indulge overmuch in digressions. Yet is -this one not inopportune I have made, when speaking of Vittoria Colonna -which did marry the Abbé. An if she had not married again with him, she -had better deserved her name and title of Vittoria, by being victorious -over herself. Seeing she could not find a second husband to match the -first, she should have refrained her altogether. - -I have known many ladies which have copied her however. One I knew -did marry one of mine uncles, the most brave, valiant and perfect -gentleman of his time. After his death, she did marry another as much -like him as an ass to a Spanish charger; but ’twas mine uncle was the -Spanish steed. Another lady I knew once, which had wedded a Marshal of -France,[122*] a handsome, honourable gentleman and a valiant; in second -wedlock she did take one in every way his opposite, and one that had -been a Churchman too. What was yet more blameworthy in her was this, -that on going to Court, where she had not appeared for twenty years, -not indeed since her second marriage, she did re-adopt the name and -title of her first husband. This is a matter our courts of law and -parliament should look into and legislate against; for I have seen an -host of others which have done the like, herein unduly scorning their -later husbands, and showing them unwilling to bear their name after -their death. For having committed the fault, why! they should drink the -cup to the dregs and feel themselves bound by what they have done. - -Another widow I once knew, on her husband’s dying, did make such sore -lamentation and so despairing by the space of a whole year, that ’twas -hourly expected to see her dead right off. At the end of a year, when -she was to leave off her heavy mourning and take to the lighter, she -said to one of her women: “Prithee, pull me in that crêpe becomingly; -for mayhap I may make another conquest.” But immediately she did -interrupt herself: “Nay! what am I talking about? I am dreaming. Better -die than have anything more to do with such follies.” Yet after her -mourning was complete, she did marry again to a husband very unequal -to the first. “But,”—and this is what these women always say,—“he was -of as good family as the other.” Yes! I admit it; but then, what of -virtue and worth? are not these more worth counting than all else? -The best I find in it all is this, that the match once made, their -joy therein is far from long; for God doth allow them to be properly -ill-treated of their new lords and bullied. Soon you will see them all -repentance,—when it is too late. - -These dames which do thus re-marry have some opinion or fancy in their -heads we wot not of. So have I heard speak of a Spanish lady, which -desiring to marry again, when they did remonstrate with her, asking -what was to become of the fond love her husband had borne her, did -make answer: _La muerte del marido y nuevo casamiento no han de romper -el amor d’una casta muger_,—“The death of husband and a new marriage -should in no wise break up the love of a good woman.” Well! so much -shall be granted, an if you please. Another Spanish dame said better, -when they were for marrying her again: _Si hallo un marido bueno, -no quiero tener el temor de perderlo; y si malo, que necessidad he -del_,—“An if I find a good husband, I wish not to be exposed to the -fear of losing him; but if a bad, what need to have one at all?” - -Valeria, a Roman lady, having lost her husband, whenas some of her -companions were condoling with her on his loss and death, said thus to -them: “’Tis too true he is dead for you all, but he liveth in me for -ever.” The fair Marquise I have spoke of a little above, had borrowed a -like phrase from her. These expressions of these noble ladies do differ -much from what a Spanish ill-wisher of the sex declared, to wit: _que -la jornada de la biudez d’ una muger es d’un dia_,—“that the day of a -woman’s widowhood is one day long.” A lady I must now tell of did much -worse. This was Madame de Moneins, whose husband was King’s lieutenant, -and was massacred at Bordeaux, by the common folk in a salt-excise -riot. So soon as ever news was brought her that her husband had been -killed and had met the fate he did, she did straight cry out: “Alas! -my diamond, what hath become of it?” This she had given him by way of -marriage present, being worth ten to twelve hundred crowns of the money -of the day, and he was used to wear it always on his finger. By this -exclamation she did let folk plainly see which grief she did bear the -more hardly, the loss of her husband or that of the diamond. - -Madame d’Estampes was a high favourite with King Francis, and for that -cause little loved of her husband. Once when some widow or other came -to her asking her pity for her widowed state, “Why! dear heart,” said -she, “you are only too happy in your condition, for I tell you, one -cannot be a widow by wishing for’t,”—as if implying she would love to -be one. Some women be so situate, others not. - -But what are we to say of widows which do keep their marriage hid, and -will not have it published? One such I knew, which did keep hers under -press for more than seven or eight years, without ever consenting to -get it printed and put in circulation. ’Twas said she did so out of -terror of her son,[123*] as yet only a youth, but afterward one of the -bravest and most honourable men in all the world, lest he should play -the deuce with her and her man, albeit he was of very high rank. But -so soon as ever her son fell in a warlike engagement, dying so as to -win a crown of glory, she did at once have her marriage printed off and -published abroad. - -I have heard of another widow, a great lady, which was married to a -very great nobleman and Prince, more than fifteen years agone. Yet doth -the world know nor hear aught thereof, so secret and discreet is it -kept. Report saith the Prince was afeared of his mother-in-law, which -was very imperious with him, and was most unwilling he should marry -again because of his young children. - -I knew another very great lady, which died but a short while agone, -having been married to a simple gentleman for more than twenty years, -without its being known at all, except by mere gossip and hearsay. Ho! -but there be some queer cases of the sort! - -I have heard it stated by a lady of a great and ancient house, how -that the late Cardinal du Bellay was wedded, being then Bishop and -Cardinal, to Madame de Chastillon, and did die a married man. This she -did declare in a conversation she held with M. de Mane, a Provençal, -of the house of Senjal and Bishop of Fréjus, which had served the said -Cardinal for fifteen years at the Court of Rome, and had been one of -his privy protonotaries. Well! happening to speak of the Cardinal, she -did ask M. de Mane if he had ever told him or confessed to him that he -was married. Who so astounded as M. de Mane at such a question? He is -yet alive and can contradict me, if I lie; for I was present. He made -answer he had never heard him speak of it, either to him or to others. -“Well, then! I am the first to tell you,” she replied; “for nothing is -more true than that he was so married; and he died actually the husband -of the said Madame de Chastillon, before a widow.” I can assure you I -had a fine laugh, seeing the astonished face of poor M. de Mane, who -was a very careful and religious man, and thought he knew every secret -of his late master; but he was out of court for this one. And indeed -’twas a scandalous license on the Cardinal’s part, considering the -sacred office he held. - -This Madame de Chastillon was the widow of the late M. de Chastillon, -the same which was said to chiefly govern the young King Charles VIII. -along with Bourdillon, Galiot and Bonneval, the guardians of the blood -royal. He died at Ferrara, having been wounded at the siege of Ravenna, -and carried thither to be healed. She became a widow when very young, -being both fair and also wise and virtuous,—albeit but in appearance, -as witness this marriage of hers,—and so was chosen maid of honour to -the late Queen of Navarre. She it was that did tender the excellent -advice to this noble lady and great Princess, which is writ in the -_Cent Nouvelles_ of the said Queen. The tale is of her and a certain -gentleman which had slipped by night into her bed by a little trap-door -in the wainscot beside her bed, and was fain to enjoy the reward of -his address; yet did win naught but some fine scratches on his pretty -face. The Queen being purposed to make complaint of the matter to her -brother, he did remonstrate with her very judiciously, as may be read -in the _Nouvelle_ or Tale in question, and did give her the excellent -advice referred to, as good and judicious and as well adapted to avoid -scandal as could possibly be devised. Indeed it might have been a First -President of the Parliament of Paris that gave the advice, which did -show plainly, however, the lady to be no less skilled and experienced -in such mysteries than wise and judicious; wherefore there can be -little doubt she did keep her affair with the Cardinal right well -hidden. - -My grandmother, the Séneschale de Poitou, had her place after her -death, by choice of King Francis himself, which did name and elect her -to the post, sending all the way to her home to summon her. Then he -did give her over with his own hand to the Queen his sister, forasmuch -as he knew her to be a very prudent and very virtuous lady,—indeed -he was used to call her _my knight without reproach_,—albeit not so -experienced, adroit and cunning in suchlike matters as her predecessor, -nor one that had contracted a second marriage under the rose. But an if -you would know who are intended in the Tale, ’twas writ of the Queen of -Navarre herself and the Admiral de Bonnivet, as I have been assured by -my grandmother. Yet doth it appear to me the Queen need never have been -at pains to conceal her name, seeing the other could get no hold over -her virtue, but did leave her all in confusion. Indeed she was only too -wishful to make the facts public, had it not been for the good and wise -advice given her by that same maid of honour, Madame de Chastillon. -Anyone that hath read the Tale will find it as I have represented -it. And I do believe that the Cardinal, her husband as aforesaid, -which was one of the cleverest and wisest, most eloquent, learned and -well-advised men of his day, had instilled this discreetness in her -mind, to make her speak so well and give such excellent counsel. The -tale might mayhap be thought somewhat over scandalous by some in view -of the sacred and priestly profession of the Cardinal; but, an if any -be fain to repeat the same, well! he must e’en suppress the name. - -Well! if this marriage was kept secret, ’twas by no means so with that -of the last Cardinal de Chastillon.[124*] For indeed he did divulge -and make it public quite enough himself, without need to borrow any -trumpet; and did die a married man, without ever having quitted his -gown and red hat. On the one hand he did excuse himself by alleging the -reformed faith, whereof he was a firm adherent; on the other by the -contention that he was desirous of still retaining his rank and not -giving up the same (a thing he would most surely never have done in any -case), so as he might continue of the council, whereof being a member -he could well serve his faith and party. For ’tis very true he was a -most able, influential and very powerful personage. - -I do imagine the aforenamed noble Cardinal du Bellay may have done -the like for like reasons. For at that time he was no little inclined -to the faith and doctrine of Luther, and indeed the Court of France -generally was somewhat affected by the taint. The fact is, all -novelties be pleasing at first, and beside, the said doctrine did open -an agreeable license to all men, and especially to ecclesiastics, to -enter the married state. - - - 9. - -However let us say no more of these dignified folk, in view of the deep -respect we do owe their order and holy rank. We must now something put -through their paces those old widows we wot of that have not six teeth -left in their chops, and yet do marry again. ’Tis no long while agone -that a lady of Guienne, already widowed of three husbands, did marry -for a fourth a gentleman of some position in that province, she being -then eighty. I know not why she did it, seeing she was very rich and -had crowns in plenty,—indeed ’twas for this the gentleman did run after -her,—unless it were that she was fain not to surrender just yet, but to -win more amorous laurels to add to her old ones, as Mademoiselle Sevin, -the Queen of Navarre’s jester, was used to say. - -Another great lady I knew, which did remarry at the age of seventy-six, -wedding a gentleman of a lower rank than her previous husband, and did -live to an hundred. Yet did she continue beautiful to the last, having -been one of the finest women of her time, and one that had gotten every -sort of delight out of her young body, both as wife and widow, so ’twas -said. - -Truly a formidable pair of women, and of a right hot complexion! And -indeed I have heard experienced bakers declare how that an old oven is -far easier to heat than a new one, and when once heated, doth better -keep its heat and make better bread. - -I wot not what savoury appetites they be which do stir husbands -and lovers to prefer these hot-loaf dainties; but I have seen many -gallant and brave gentlemen no less eager in love, nay! more eager, -for old women than for young. They tell me ’twas to get worldly profit -of them; but some I have seen also, which did love such with most -ardent passion, without winning aught from their purse at all, except -that of their person. So have we all seen erstwhile a very great and -sovran Prince,[125] which did so ardently love a great dame, a widow -and advanced in years, that he did desert his wife and all other -women, no matter how young and lovely, for to sleep with her only. -Yet herein was he well advised, seeing she was one of the fairest and -most delightsome women could ever be seen, and for sure her winter was -better worth than the springtide, summer and autumn of the rest. Men -which have had dealings with the courtesans of Italy have seen, and do -still see, not a few cases where lovers do choose the most famous and -long experienced in preference, and those that have most shaken their -skirts, hoping with them to find something more alluring in body or in -wit. And this is why the beauteous Cleopatra, being summoned of Mark -Antony to come see him, was moved with no apprehension, being well -assured that, inasmuch as she had known how to captivate Julius Cæsar -and Gnæus Pompeius, the son of Pompey the Great, when she was yet but -a slip of a girl, and knew not thoroughly the ways and wiles of her -trade, she could manage better still her new lover, a very fleshly and -coarse soldier of a man, now that she was in the full fruition of her -experience and ripe age. Nor did she fail. In fact, the truth is that, -while youth is most meet to attract the love of some men, with others -’tis maturity, a sufficient age, a practised wit, a long experience, a -well-hung tongue and a well trained hand, that do best serve to seduce -them. - -There is one doubtful point as to which I did one time ask doctors’ -opinion,—a question suggested by one who asked why his health was not -better, seeing all his life long he had never known nor touched old -women, according to the physicians’ aphorism which saith: _vetulam non -cognovi_, “I have known never an old woman.” Among many other quaint -matters, be sure of this,—these doctors did tell me an old proverb -which saith: “In an old barn is fine threshing, but an old flail is -good for naught.” Others say: “Never mind how old a beast be, so it -will bear.” I was told moreover that in their practice they had known -old women which were so ardent and hot-blooded, that cohabiting with -a young man, they do draw all ever they can from him, taking whatever -he hath of substance, the better to moisten their own drouth; I speak -of such as by reason of age be dried up and lack proper humours. The -same medical authorities did give me other reasons to boot; but an if -readers be still curious, I leave them to ask further for themselves. - -I have seen an aged widow, and a great lady too, which did put under -her tooth in less than four years a third husband and a young nobleman -she had taken for lover; and did send the pair of them under the sod, -not by violence or poison, but by mere enfeeblement and distillation of -their substance. Yet to look at this lady, none had ever supposed her -capable of aught of the sort; for indeed, before folk she did rather -play the prude and poor-spirited hypocrite, actually refusing to change -her shift in presence of her women for fear of their seeing her naked. -But as one of her kinswomen declared, these objections were all for -her women, not for her lovers and admirers. - -But come, what is the difference in merit and repute betwixt a woman -which hath had several husbands in her life,—and there be plenty that -have had as many as three, four or even five, and another which in her -life shall have had but her husband and a lover, or two or three,—and I -have actually known some women continent and faithful to that degree? -As to this, I have heard a noble lady of the great world say she found -naught to choose betwixt a lady who had had several husbands, and -one that had had but a lover or so, along with her husband,—unless -it be that the marriage veil doth cover a multitude of sins. But in -point of sensuality and naughtiness, she said there was not a doit of -difference. Herein do they but illustrate the Spanish proverb, which -saith that _algunas mugeres son de natura de anguilas en retener, y de -lobas en excoger_,—“some women are like eels to hold, and she-wolves to -choose,” for that the eel is mighty slippery and ill to hold, and the -she-wolf doth alway choose the ugliest wolf for mate. - -It befell me once at Court, as I have described elsewhere, that a lady -of a sufficiently exalted rank, which had been four times married, did -happen to tell me she had just been dining with her brother-in-law, and -I must guess who ’twas. This she said quite simply, without any thought -of roguishness; and I answered with a touch of waggery, yet laughing -the while: “Am I a diviner to guess such a riddle? You have been -married four times: I leave to the imagination how many brothers-in-law -you may have.” To this she retorted: “Nay! but you speak knavishly,” -and named me the particular brother-in-law. “Now you do talk sense,” I -said then; “before you were talking all at large.” - -There was in old days at Rome[126] a lady which had had two and twenty -husbands one after other, and similarly a man which had had one and -twenty wives. The pair did hereupon bethink them to make a suitable -match by remarrying once more to each other. Eventually the husband -did outlive the wife; and was so highly honoured and esteemed at Rome -of all the people for this his noble victory, that like a successful -General, he was promenaded up and down in a triumphal car, crowned with -laurel and palm in hand. A splendid victory truly, and a well deserved -triumph! - -In the days of King Henri II., there was at his Court a certain -Seigneur de Barbazan, Saint-Amand by surname, which did marry -thrice—three wives one after other. His third was daughter of Madame -de Monchy, governess to the Duchesse de Lorraine, who more doughty -than the other two, did quite surpass them, for he died under her. Now -whenas folk were mourning his loss at Court, and she in like wise was -inordinately afflicted at her bereavement, M. de Montpezat, a very -witty man, did rebuke all this demonstration, saying: that instead of -compassionating her, they should commend and extol her to the skies for -the victory she had gotten over her man, who was said to have been so -vigorous a wight and so strong and well provided that he had killed his -two first wives by dint of doing his devoir on them. But this lady, for -that she had not succumbed in the contest but had remained victorious, -should be highly praised and admired of all the Court for so glorious -a success,—a victory won over so valiant and robust a champion; and -that for the same cause herself had every reason to be proud. What a -victory, and what a source of pride, pardy! - -I have heard the same doctrine cited a little above maintained also by -a great nobleman of France, who said: that he did find no difference -’twixt a woman that had had four or five husbands, as some have had, -and a whore which hath had three or four lovers one after other. -Similarly a gallant gentleman I wot of, having wedded a wife that had -been three times married already, one I also know by name, a man of -ready tongue and wit, did exclaim: “He hath married at last a whore -from the brothel of good name.” I’faith, women which do thus marry -again and again be like grasping surgeons, that will not at once bind -up the wounds of a poor wounded man, so as to prolong the cure and the -better to be gaining all the while their bits of fees. Nay! one dame of -this sort was used actually to say outright: “’Tis a poor thing to stop -dead in the very middle of one’s career; one is bound to finish, and go -on to the end!” - -I do wonder that these women which be so hot and keen to marry again, -and at the same time so stricken in years, do not for their credit’s -sake make some use of cooling remedies and antiphlogistic potions, -so as to drive out all these heated humours. Yet so far be they from -any wish to use the like, as that they do employ the very opposite -treatment, declaring suchlike cooling boluses would ruin their stomach. -I have seen and read a little old-fashioned tract in Italian, but -a silly book withal, which did undertake to give recipes against -lasciviousness, and cited some two and thirty. But these be all so -silly I recommend not women to use them, nor to submit themselves to -any such annoying regimen. And so I have not thought good to copy them -in here. Pliny doth adduce one, which in former days the Vestal virgins -were used to employ; the Athenian dames did resort to the same remedy -during the festivals of the goddess Ceres, known as the _Thesmophoria_, -to cool their humours thereby and take away all hot appetite of -concupiscence. ’Twas to sleep on mattresses of the leaves of a tree -called the _agnus castus_. But be sure, an if during the feast they did -mortify themselves in this wise, after the same was over, they did very -soon pitch their mattresses to the winds. - -I have seen a tree of the sort at a house in Guienne belonging to a -very high-born, honourable and beautiful lady. She would oft times show -the tree to strangers which came thither as a great rarity, and tell -them its peculiar property. But devil take me if ever I have seen or -heard tell of woman or dame that hath sent to gather one single branch, -or made the smallest scrap of mattress from its leaves. Certainly not -the lady that owned the said tree, who might have made what use she -pleased thereof. Truly, it had been a pity an if she had, and her -husband had not been best pleased; for so fair and charming a dame was -she, ’twas only right nature should be allowed her way, and she hath -borne to boot a noble line of offspring. - - - 10. - -And to speak truth, suchlike harsh, chill medicines should be left to -poor nuns and prescribed to them only, which for all their fasting and -mortifying of the flesh, be oft times sore assailed, poor creatures, -with temptations of the flesh. An if only they had their freedom, they -would be ready enough, at least some would, to take like refreshment -with their more worldly sisters, and not seldom do they repent them -of their repentance. This is seen with the Roman courtesans, as to -one of whom I must tell a diverting tale. She was vowed to take the -veil, but before her going finally to the nunnery, a former lover of -hers, a gentleman of France, doth come to bid her farewell, ere she -entered the cloister forever. But before leaving her, he did ask one -more gratification of his passion, and she did grant the same, with -these words: _Fate dunque presto; ch’ adesso mi veranno cercar per -far mi monaca, e menare al monasterio_,—“Do it quick then, for they -be coming directly to make me a nun and carry me off to cloister.” We -must suppose she was fain to do it this once as a final treat, and -say with the Roman poet: _Tandem hæc olim meminisse juvabit_,—“’Twill -be good to remember in future days this last delight.” A strange -repentance insooth and a quaint novitiate! But truly when once they be -professed, at any rate the good-looking ones, (though of course there -be exceptions), I do believe they live more on the bitter herb of -repentance than any other bodily or spiritual sustenance. - -Some however there be which do contrive a remedy for this state of -things, whether by dispensation or by sheer license they do take for -themselves. For in our lands they have no such dire treatment to fear -as the Romans in old days did mete out to their Vestal virgins which -had gone astray. This was verily hateful and abominable in its cruelty; -but then they were pagans and abounding in horrors and cruelties. On -the contrary we Christians, which do follow after the gentleness of our -Lord Christ, should be tender-hearted as he was, and forgiving as he -was forgiving. I would describe here in writing the fashion of their -punishment; but for very horror my pen doth refuse to indite the same. - -Let us now leave these poor recluses, which I do verily believe, once -they be shut up in their nunneries, do endure no small hardship. So -a Spanish lady one time, seeing them setting to the religious life a -very fair and honourable damsel, did thus exclaim: _O tristezilla, y -en que pecasteis, que tan presto vienes à penitencia, y seis metida en -sepultura viva!_—“Poor creature, what so mighty sin have you done, that -you be so soon brought to penitence and thus buried alive!” And seeing -the nuns offering her every complaisance, compliment and welcome, she -said: _que todo le hedia, hasta el encienso de la yglesia_,—“that it -all stank in her nostrils, to the very incense in the church.” - -Now as to these vows of virginity, Heliogabalus did promulgate a law to -the effect that no Roman maid, not even a Vestal virgin, was bound to -perpetual virginity, saying how that the female sex was over weak for -women to be bound to a pact they could never be sure of keeping. And -for this reason they that have founded hospitals for the nourishing, -rescuing and marrying poor girls, have done a very charitable work, no -less to enable these to taste the sweet fruit of marriage than to turn -them from naughtiness. So Panurge in Rabelais, did give much wealth of -his to make such marriages, and especially in the case of old and ugly -women, for with such was need of more expenditure of money than for the -pretty ones. - -One question there is I would fain have resolved in all sincerity -and without concealment of any kind by some good lady that hath made -the journey,—to wit, when women be married a second time, how they -be affected toward the memory of their first husband. ’Tis a general -maxim hereanent, that later friendships and enmities do always make -the earlier ones forgot; in like wise will a second marriage bury the -thought of the first. As to this I will now give a diverting example, -though from an humble source,—not that it should therefore be void of -authority and to be rejected, if it be as they say, that albeit in an -obscure and common quarter, yet may wisdom and good intelligence be -hid there. A great lady of Poitou one day asking a peasant woman, a -tenant of hers, how many husbands she had had, and how she found them, -the latter, bobbing her little country curtsey, did coolly answer: -“I’ll tell you, Madam; I’ve had two husbands, praise the Lord! One was -called Guillaume, he was the first; and the second was called Collas. -Guillaume was a good man, easy in his circumstances, and did treat me -very well; but there, God have good mercy on Collas’ soul, for Collas -did his duty right well by me.” But she did actually say the word -straight out without any glozing or disguise such as I have thrown over -it. Prithee, consider how the naughty wench did pray God for the dead -man which was so good a mate and so lusty, and for what benefit, to -wit that he had covered her so doughtily; but of the first, never a -word of the sort. I should suppose many dames that do wed a second time -and a third do the same; for after all this is their chiefest reason -for marrying again, and he that doth play this game the best, is best -loved. Indeed they do always imagine the second husband must need be a -fierce performer,—though very oft they be sore deceived, not finding in -the shop the goods they did there think to find. Or else, if there be -some provision, ’tis oft so puny, wasted and worn, so slack, battered, -drooping and dilapidated, they do repent them ever they invested their -money in the bargain. Of this myself have seen many examples, that I -had rather not adduce. - -We read in Plutarch how Cleomenes, having wedded the fair Agiatis, wife -of Agis, after the death of the latter, did grow fondly enamoured of -the same by reason of her surpassing beauty. He did not fail to note -the great sadness she lay under for her first husband’s loss; and felt -so great compassion for her, as that he made no grievance of the love -she still bare her former husband, and the affectionate memory she did -cherish of him. In fact, himself would often turn the discourse to her -earlier life, asking her facts and details as to the pleasures that had -erstwhile passed betwixt them twain. He had her not for long however, -for she soon died, to his extreme sorrow. ’Tis a thing not a few worthy -husbands do in the case of fair widows they have married. - -But ’tis time now surely, methinks, to be making an end, if ever end is -to be made. - -Other ladies there be which declare they do much better love their -second husbands than their first. “For as to our first husbands,” -some of these have told me, “these we do more often than not take at -the orders of our King or the Queen our mistress, or at the command of -our fathers, mothers, kinsmen, or guardians, not by our own unbiased -wish. On the other hand, once widowed and thus free and emancipated, -we do exercise such choice as seemeth us good, and take new mates -solely for our own good will and pleasure, for delight of love and the -satisfaction of our heart’s desire.” Of a surety there would seem to be -good reason here, were it not that very oft, as the old-time proverb -saith,—“Love that begins with a ring, oft ends with a halter.” So every -day do we see instances and examples where women thinking to be well -treated of their husbands, the which they have in some cases rescued -from justice and the gibbet, from poverty and misery and the hangman, -and saved alive, have been sore beaten, bullied, cruelly entreated and -often done to death of the same,—a just punishment of heaven for their -base ingratitude toward their former husbands, that were only too good -to them, and of whom they had never a good word to say. - -These were in no way like one I have heard tell of, who the first night -of her marriage, when now her husband was beginning his assault, did -start sobbing and sighing very sore, so that at one and the same time -she was in two quite opposite states, cold and hot, winter and summer, -both at once. Her husband asking her what cause she had to be so sad, -and if he were not doing his devoir well, “Alas! too well, good sir!” -she made answer; “but I am thinking of mine other husband, which did -so earnestly pray me again and again never to marry afresh after his -death, but to bear in mind and have compassion on his young children. -Alackaday! I see plainly I shall have the like ado with you. Woe’s -me! what _shall_ I do? I do think, an if he can see me from the place -he now is in, he will be cursing me finely.” What an idea, never to -have thought on this afore, nor to have felt remorse but when ’twas -all too late! But the husband did soon appease her, and expel this -fancy by the best method possible; then next morning throwing wide the -chamber window, he did cast forth all memory of the former husband. -For is there not an old proverb which saith, “A woman that burieth one -husband, will think little of burying another,” and another, “There’s -more grimace than grief, when a woman loseth her husband.” - -I knew another widow, a great lady, which was quite the opposite of -the last, and did not weep one whit the first night. For then, and the -second to boot, she did go so lustily to work with her second husband -as that they did break down and burst the bedstead, and this albeit she -had a kind of cancer on one breast. Yet notwithstanding her affliction, -she did miss never a point of amorous delight; and often afterward -would divert him with tales of the folly and ineptitude of her former -mate. And truly, by what I have heard sundry of either sex tell me, -the very last thing a second husband doth desire of his wife is to be -entertained with the merits and worth of her first, as though jealous -of the poor departed wight, who would like naught so well as to return -to earth again; but as for abuse of him, as much of that as ever you -please! Natheless there be not a few that will ask their wives about -their former lords, as did Cleomenes; but this they do, as feeling -themselves to be strong and vigorous; and so delighting to institute -comparisons, do cross-question them concerning the other’s sturdiness -and vigour in these sweet encounters. In like wise have I heard of -some which to put their bedfellows in better case, do lead them to -think their former mates were prentice hands compared with them, a -device that doth oft times answer their purpose well. Others again will -say just the opposite, and declare their first husbands were perfect -giants, so as to spur on their new mates to work like very pack mules. - - - 11. - -Widows of the sort just described would be in good case in the island -of Chios,[127*] the fairest, sweetest and most pleasant of the Levant, -formerly possessed by the Genoese, but now for five and thirty years -usurped by the Turks,—a crying shame and loss for Christendom. Now in -this isle, as I am informed of sundry Genoese traders, ’tis the custom -that every woman desiring to continue a widow, without any intent to -marry again, is constrained to pay to the Seigneurie of the island a -certain fixed sum of money, which they call _argomoniatiquo_, which -is the same as saying (with all respect to the ladies), _an idle spot -is useless_. So likewise at Sparta, as Plutarch saith in his _Life of -Lysander_, was a fine established by law against such as would not -marry, or did marry over late, or ill. To return to Scio (Chios), I -have enquired of certain natives of that island, what might be the aim -and object of the said custom, which told me ’twas to the end the isle -might always be well peopled. I can vouch for this, that our land of -France will surely never be left desert or infertile by fault of our -widows’ not marrying again; for I ween there be more which do re-marry -than not, and will pay never a doit of tribute for idle and useless -females. And if not by marriage, at any rate in other ways, these -Chiotes do make that same organ work and fructify, as I will presently -show. ’Tis well too for our maids of France they need not to pay the -tax their sisters of Chios be liable to; for these, whether in country -or town, if they do come to lose their maidenhead before marriage, and -be fain after to continue the trade, be bound to pay once for all a -ducat (and surely ’tis a good bargain to compound for all their life -after at this price) to the Captain of the Night Watch, so as they -may pursue their business as they please, without let or hindrance. -And herein doth lie the chiefest and most certain profit this worthy -Captain doth come by in his office. - -These dames and damsels of this Isle be much different from those of -olden days in the same land, which, by what Plutarch saith in his -_Opuscula_, were so chaste for seven hundred years, that never a case -was remembered where a married woman had done adultery, or a maid had -been deflowered unwed. A miracle! ’twill be said, a mythic tale worthy -of old Homer! At any rate be sure they be much other nowadays! - -Never was a time when the Greeks had not always some device or other -making for wantonness. So in old times we read of a custom in the isle -of Cyprus, which ’tis said the kindly goddess Venus, the patroness of -that land, did introduce. This was that the maids of that island should -go forth and wander along the banks, shores and cliffs of the sea, for -to earn their marriage portions by the generous giving of their bodies -to mariners, sailors and seafarers along that coast. These would put -in to shore on purpose, very often indeed turning aside from their -straight course by compass to land there; and so taking their pleasant -refreshment with them, would pay handsomely, and presently hie them -away again to sea, for their part only too sorry to leave such good -entertainment behind. Thus would these fair maids win their marriage -dowers, some more, some less, some high, some low, some grand, some -lowly, according to the beauty, gifts and carnal attractions of each -damsel. - -Nowadays ’tis different. No maids in any Christian nation do thus go -wandering forth, to expose them to wind and rain, cold and heat, sun -and moon, and so win their dower, for that the task is too laborious -for their delicate and tender skins and white complexions. Rather do -they have their lovers come to them under rich pavilions and gorgeous -hangings, and do there draw their amorous profit from their paramours, -without ever a tax to pay. I speak not now of the courtesans of Rome, -who do pay tax, but of women of higher place than they. In fact for -the most part for such damsels their fathers, mothers and brothers, -be not at much pains to gather money for their portion on marriage; -but on the contrary many of them be found able to give handsomely to -their kinsfolk, and advance the same in goods and offices, ranks and -dignities, as myself have seen in many instances. - -For this cause did Lycurgus ordain in his Laws that virgins should be -wedded without money dowry, to the end men might marry them for their -merits, and not from greed. But, what kind of virtue was it? Why! on -their solemn feast-days the Spartan maids were used to sing and dance -in public stark naked with the lads, and even wrestle in the open -market-place,—the which however was done in all honesty and good faith, -so History saith. But what sort of honesty and purity was this, we may -well ask, to look on at these pretty maids so performing publicly? -Honesty was it never a whit, but pleasure in the sight of them, and -especially of their bodily movements and dancing postures, and above -all in their wrestling; and chiefest of all when they came to fall one -atop of the other, as they say in Latin, _illa sub, ille super_; _ille -sub et illa super_,—“she underneath, he atop; he underneath, she atop.” -You will never persuade me, ’twas all honesty and purity herein with -these Spartan maidens. I ween there is never chastity so chaste that -would not have been shaken thereby, or that, so making in public and -by day these feint assaults, they did not presently in privity and by -night and on assignation proceed to greater combats and night-attacks. -And no doubt all this might well be done, seeing how the said Lycurgus -did suffer such men as were handsome and well grown to borrow other -citizens’ wives to sow seed therein as in a good and fruitful soil. So -was it in no wise blameworthy for an old outwearied husband to lend his -young and beautiful wife to some gallant youth he did choose therefor. -Nay! the lawgiver did pronounce it permissible for the wife herself to -choose for to help her procreation the next kinsman of her husband, -then an if he pleased her fancy, to couple with him, to the end the -children they might engender should at least be of the blood and race -of the husband. Indeed there is some sense in the practice, and had not -the Jews likewise the same law of license betwixt sister-in-law and -brother-in-law? On the other hand our Christian law hath reformed all -this, albeit our Holy Father hath in divers cases granted dispensations -founded on divers reasons. In Spain ’tis a practice much adopted, but -never without dispensation. - -Well! to say something more, and as soberly as we may, of some other -sorts of widows,—and then an end. - -One sort there is, widows which do absolutely refuse to marry again, -hating wedlock like the plague. So one, a lady of a great house and a -witty woman withal, when that I asked her if she were not minded to -make her vow once again to the god Hymen, did reply: “Tell me this, -by’r lady; suppose a galley-slave or captive to have tugged years -long at the oar, tied to the chain, and at last to have got back his -freedom, would he not be a fool and a very imbecile, an if he did not -hie him away with a good heart, determined never more to be subject -to the orders of a savage corsair? So I, after being in slavery to an -husband, an if I should take a fresh master, what should I deserve to -get, prithee, since without resorting to that extreme, and with no -risk at all, I can have the best of good times?” Another great lady, -and a kinswoman of mine own, on my asking her if she had no wish to -wed again, replied: “Never a bit, coz, but only to bed again,” playing -on the words _wed_ and _bed_, and signifying she would be glad enough -to give herself some treat, but without intervention of any second -husband,—according to the old proverb which saith, “A safer fling unwed -than wed.” Another saying hath it, that women be always good hostesses, -in love as elsewhere; and a right saying ’tis, for they be mistresses -of the situation, and queens wherever they be,—that is the pretty ones -be so. - -I have heard tell of another, which was asked of a gentleman which -was fain to try his ground as a suitor for her hand, an if she would -not like an husband. “Nay! sir,” she answered, “never talk to me of -an husband, I’ll have no more of them; but for a lover, I’m not so -sure.”—“Then, Madame, prithee, let me be that lover, since husband I -may not be.” Her reply was, “Court me well, and persevere; mayhap you -will succeed.” - -A fair and honourable widow lady, of some thirty summers, one day -wishing to break a jest with an honourable gentleman, or to tell truth, -to provoke him to love-making, and having as she was about to mount her -horse caught the front of her mantle on something and torn it somewhat -in detaching it, taking it up said to him: “Look you, what you have -done, so and so” (accosting him by his name); “you have ripped my -front.” - -“I should be right sorry to hurt it, Madam; ’tis too sweet and pretty -for that.” - -“Why! what know you of it?” she replied; “you have never seen it.” - -“What! can you deny,” retorted the other, “that I have seen it an -hundred times over, when you were a little lassie?” - -“Ah! but,” said she, “I was then but a stripling, and knew not yet what -was what.” - -“Still, I suppose ’tis yet in the same place as of old, and hath not -changed position. I ween I could even now find it in the same spot.” - -“Oh, yes! ’tis there still, albeit mine husband hath rolled it and -turned it about, more than ever did Diogenes with his tub.” - -“Yes! and nowadays how doth it do without movement?” - -“’Tis for all the world like a clock that is left unwound.” - -“Then take you heed, lest that befall you that doth happen to clocks -when they be not wound up, and continue so for long; their springs do -rust by lapse of time, and they be good for naught after.” - -“’Tis not a fair comparison,” said she, “for that the springs of the -clock you mean be not liable to rust at all, but keep in good order, -wound or unwound, always ready to be set a-going at any time.” - -“Please God,” cried the gentleman, “whenas the time for winding come, I -might be the watchmaker to wind it up!” - -“Well, well!” returned the lady, “when that day and festive hour shall -arrive, we will not be idle, but will do a right good day’s work. So -God guard from ill him I love not as well as you.” - -After this keen and heart pricking interchange of wit, the lady did -mount her horse, after kissing the gentleman with much good-will, -adding as she rode away, “Goodbye, till we meet again, and enjoy our -little treat!” - -But alas! as ill fate would have it, the fair lady did die within -six weeks whereat her lover did well nigh die of chagrin. For these -enticing words, with others she had said afore, had so heartened him -with good hope that he was assured of her conquest, as indeed she was -ready enough to be his. A malison on her untimely end, for verily she -was one of the best and fairest dames you could see anywhere, and well -worth a venial fault to possess,—or even a mortal sin! - -Another fair young widow was asked by an honourable gentleman if she -did keep Lent, and abstain from eating meat, as folks do then. “No!” -she said, “I do not.”—“So I have observed,” returned the gentleman; -“I have noted you made no scruple, but did eat meat at that season -just as at any other, both raw and cooked.”—“That was at the time mine -husband was alive; now I am a widow, I have reformed and regulated my -living more seemly.”—“Nay! beware,” then said the other, “of fasting -so strictly, for it doth readily happen to such as go fasting and -anhungered, that anon, when the desire of meat cometh on them, they do -find their vessels so narrow and contracted, as that they do thereby -suffer much incommodity.”—“Nay! that vessel of my body,” said the -lady, “that you mean, is by no means so narrow or hunger-pinched, but -that, when mine appetite shall revive, I may not afford it good and -sufficient refreshment.” - -I knew another great lady, which all through her unmarried and married -life was in all men’s mouths by reason of her exceeding stoutness. -Afterward she came to lose her husband, and did mourn him with so -extreme a sorrow that she grew as dry as wood.[128] Yet did she never -cease to indulge her in the joys of former days, even going so far as -to borrow the aid of a certain Secretary she had, and of other such -to boot, and even of her cook, so ’twas reported. For all that, she -did not win back her flesh, albeit the said cook, who was all fat and -greasy, ought surely, I ween, to have made her fat. So she went on, -taking now one, now another of her serving-men, all the while playing -the part of the most prudish and virtuous dame in all the Court, with -pious phrases ever on her lips, and naught but scandal against all -other women, and never a word of good for any of them. Of like sort was -that noble woman of Dauphiné, in the _Cent Nouvelles_ of the Queen -of Navarre, which was found lying flat on the grass with her groom or -muleteer by a certain gentleman, that was ready to die of love for her -but this sight did quick cure his love sickness for him. - -I have heard speak of a very beautiful woman at Naples, which had the -repute of going in like manner with a Moor, the ugliest fellow in the -world, who was her slave and groom, but something made her love him. - - - 12. - -I have read in an old Romance, _Jehan de Saintré_, printed in black -letter, how the late King John of France did rear the hero Jehan as his -page. Now by custom of former days, great folk were used to send their -pages to carry messages, as is done likewise to-day. But then they were -wont to go everywhere, and up and down the countryside, a-horseback; -I have even heard our fathers say they were not seldom sent on minor -embassies, for by despatching a page and horse and a broad piece, -the thing was done and so much expense well spared. This same little -Jehan de Saintré (for so he did long continue to be called)[129*] was -very much loved of his master the King, for that he was full of wit -and intelligence, and was often sent to carry trifling messages to -his sister, who was at the time a widow,—though the book saith not -whose widow. This great lady did fall enamoured of the lad, after he -had been several times on errands to her; so one day, finding a good -opportunity and no one nigh, she did question him, asking him an if he -did not love some lady or other at Court, and which of them all liked -him best. This is a way a great many ladies have, whenas they be fain -to score the first point and deliver their first attack on one they -fancy, as myself have seen done. Well! little Jehan de Saintré, who -had never so much as dreamed of love, told her, “No! not yet,” going -on to describe several Court ladies, and what he thought of them. Then -did she hold forth to him on the beauties and delights of love, but he -only answered, “Nay! I care less than ever for’t.” For in those old -days, even as to-day, some of our greatest ladies were slaves to love -and much subject to detraction; for indeed folk so adroit as they have -grown since, and ’twas only the cleverest that had the good fortune -to impose on their husbands and pass as good women by virtue of their -hypocrisies and little wiles. The lady then, seeing the lad to be -well-favoured, goes on to tell him how she would give him a mistress -that would love him well, provided he was a true lover to her, making -him promise under pain of instant shame and disgrace, that above all he -should be sure and secret. Eventually she did make her avowal to him, -and tell him herself would fain be his lady and darling,—for in those -days the word _mistress_ was not as yet in vogue. At this the young -page was sore astonished, thinking she did but make a mock of him, or -wished to trap him and get him a whipping. - -However she did very soon show so many unequivocal signs of fire and -heat of love and such tender familiarities, as that he perceived ’twas -no mockery; while she kept on telling him she would train and form -him and make him a great man. The end was their loves and mutual joys -did last a long while, during his pagehood and after he was no more a -page, till at the last he had to depart on a distant journey,—when she -did change him for a great, fat Abbé. This is the tale we find in the -_Nouvelles du monde advantureux_, writ by a gentleman of the chamber -to the Queen of Navarre, wherein we see the Abbé put an affront on the -said Jehan de Saintré, that was so brave and valiant; yet did he in no -long while pay the worthy Abbé back in good coin and three times over. -’Tis an excellent Tale, and cometh from the book I have named.[130*] - -Here we see how ’tis not only of to-day that fair ladies do love pages, -above all when they be gay and speckled like partridges. And verily, -what creatures women be!—that be ready enough to have lovers galore, -but husbands not! This they do for the love of freedom, which is indeed -a noble thing. For they think, when once they be out of their husband’s -rule, they are in Paradise, having their fine dower and spending it -themselves, managing all the household, and handling the coin. All -goeth through their hands; and instead of being servants, they be now -mistresses, and do make free choice of their pleasures, and such as do -best minister to the same. - -Others again there be, which do surely hate the notion of making a -second marriage, from distaste to lose their rank and dignity, their -goods, riches and honours, their soft and luxurious living, and for -this cause do restrain their passions. So have I known and heard -speak of not a few great dames and Princesses, which from mere dread -of their failing to find again the grandeurs of their first match, -and so losing rank, would never marry again. Not that they did cease -therefor one whit to follow after love and turn the same to their joy -and delight,—yet all the while never losing their rank and dignity, -their stools of state and honourable seats in Queens’ chambers and -elsewhere. Lucky women, to enjoy their grandeur and mount high, -yet abase them low, at one and the same time! But to say a word of -reproach or remonstrance to them, never dream no such thing! Else no -end would there be of anger and annoyance, denials and protestations, -contradiction and revenge. - -I have heard a tale told of a widow lady, and indeed I knew her -myself, which had long enjoyed the love of an honourable gentleman, -under pretext she would marry him; but he did in no wise make himself -obtrusive. A great Princess, the lady’s mistress, was for reproaching -her for her conduct. But she, wily and corrupt, did answer her: -“Nay! Madam, but should it be denied us to love with an honourable -love? surely that were too cruel.” Only God knoweth, this love she -called honourable, was really a most lecherous passion. And verily -all loves be so; they be born all pure, chaste and honourable, but -anon do lose their maidenhead, so to speak, and by magic influence of -some philosopher’s stone, be transformed into base metal, and grow -dishonourable and lecherous. - -The late M. de Bussy, who was one of the wittiest talkers of his time, -and no less pleasing as a story-teller, one day at Court seeing a -great lady, a widow, and of ripe years, who did still persist in her -amorous doings, did exclaim: “What! doth this hackney yet frequent the -stallion?” The word was repeated to the lady, which did vow mortal hate -against the offender. On M. de Bussy’s learning this, “Well, well!” he -said, “I know how to make my peace, and put this all right. Prithee, -go tell her I said not so, but that this is what I really said, ‘Doth -this _filly_[131] yet go to be mounted? For sure I am she is not wroth -because I take her for a light o’ love, but for an old woman; and when -she hears I called her filly, that is to say a young mare, she will -suppose I do still esteem her a young woman.’” And so it was; for the -lady, on hearing this change and improvement in the wording, did relax -her anger and made it up with M. de Bussy; whereat we did all have a -good laugh. Yet for all she might do, she was always deemed an old, -half-foundered jade, that aged as she was, still went whinnying after -the male. - -This last was quite unlike another lady I have also heard tell of, who -having been a merry wench in her earlier days, but getting well on in -years, did set her to serve God with fast and prayer. An honourable -gentleman remonstrating and asking her wherefore she did make such -long vigils at Church and such severe fasts at table, and if it were -not to vanquish and deaden the stings of the flesh, “Alas!” said she, -“these be all over and done with for me.” These words she did pronounce -as piteously as ever spake Milo of Croton, that strong and stalwart -wrestler of old, (I have told the tale elsewhere, methinks), who having -one day gone down into the arena, or wrestlers’ ring, but only for to -view the game, for he was now grown very old, one of the band coming -up to him did ask, an if he would not try yet a fall of the old sort. -But he, baring his arms and right sadly turning back his sleeves, said -only, gazing the while at his muscles and sinews: “Alas! they be dead -now.” - -Another like incident did happen to a gentleman I wot of, similar to -the tale I have just told of M. de Bussy. Coming to Court, after an -absence of six months, he there beheld a lady which was used to attend -the academy, lately introduced at Court by the late King. “Why!” -saith he, “doth the academy then still exist? I was told it had been -abolished.”—“Can you doubt,” a courtier answered him, “her attendance? -Why! her master is teaching her philosophy, which doth speak and treat -of perpetual motion.” And in good sooth, for all the beating of brains -these same philosophers do undergo, to discover perpetual motion, yet -is there none more surely so than the motion Venus doth teach in _her_ -school. - -A lady of the great world did give even a better answer of another, -whose beauty they were extolling highly, only that her eyes did ever -remain motionless, she never turning the same one way or the other. “We -must suppose,” she said, “all her care doth go to move other portions -of her body, and so hath she none to spare for her eyes.” - -However, an if I would put down in writing all the witty words and -good stories I know, to fill out my matter, I should never get me -done. And so, seeing I have other subjects to attack, I will desist, -and finish with this saying of Boccaccio, already cited above, namely, -that women, maids, wives and widows alike, at least the most part of -them, be one and all inclined to love. I have no thought to speak of -common folk, whether in country or in town, for such was never mine -intention in writing, but only of well-born persons, in whose service -my pen is aye ready to run nimbly. But for mine own part, if I were -asked my true opinion, I should say emphatically there is naught like -married women, all risk and peril on their husbands’ side apart, for -to win good enjoyment of love withal, and to taste quick the very -essence of its delights. The fact is their husbands do heat them so, -they be like a furnace, continually poked and stirred, that asks naught -but fuel, water and wood or charcoal to keep up its heat for ever. And -truly he that would have a good light, must always be putting more oil -in the lamp. At the same time let him beware of a foul stroke, and -those ambushes of jealous husbands wherein the wiliest be oft times -caught![132*] - -Yet is a man bound to go as circumspectly as he may, and as boldly -to boot, and do like the great King Henri, who was much devoted to -love, but at the same time exceeding respectful toward ladies, and -discreet, and for these reasons much loved and well received of them. -Now whenever it fell out that this monarch was changing night quarters -and going to sleep in the bed of a new mistress, which expecting him, -he would never go thither (as I learn on very good authority) but by -the secret galleries of Saint-Germain, Blois or Fontainebleau, and -the little stealthy back-stairs, recesses and garrets of his castles. -First went his favourite valet of the chamber, Griffon by name, which -did carry his boar-spear before him along with the torch, and the King -next, his great cloak held before his face or else his night-gown, -and his sword under his arm. Presently, being to bed with the lady, -he would aye have his spear and sword put by the bed’s-head, the door -well shut, and Griffon guarding it, watching and sleeping by turns. -Now I leave it to you, an if a great King did give such heed to his -safety (for indeed there have been some caught, both kings and great -princes,—for instance the Duc de Fleurance Alexandre in our day), -what smaller folks should do, following the example of this powerful -monarch. Yet there are to be found proud souls which do disdain all -precaution; and of a truth they be often trapped for their pains. - -I have heard a tale related of King Francis, how having a fair lady -as mistress,[133*] a connection that had long subsisted betwixt them, -and going one day unexpectedly to see the said lady, and to sleep with -her at an unusual hour, ’gan knock loudly on the door, as he had both -right and might to do, being the master. She, who was at the moment in -company of the Sieur de Bonnivet, durst not give the reply usual with -the Roman courtesans under like circumstances, _Non si puo, la signora -è accompagnata_,—“You cannot come in; Madam has company with her.” In -this case the only thing to do was to devise quick where her gallant -could be most securely hid. By good luck ’twas summer time, so they had -put an heap of branches and leaves in the fire-place, as the custom is -in France. Accordingly she did counsel and advise him to make at once -for the fire-place, and there hide him among the leafage, all in his -shirt as he was,—and ’twas a fortunate thing for him it was not winter. -After the King had done his business with the lady, he was fain to -make water; so getting up from the bed, he went to the fire-place to -do so, for lack of other convenience. And so sore did he want to, that -he did drown the poor lover worse than if a bucket of water had been -emptied over him, for he did water him thoroughly, as with a garden -watering-pot, all round and about, and even over the face, eyes, nose, -mouth and everywhere; albeit by tight shut lips he may have escaped all -but a drop or so in his chops. I leave you to fancy what a sorry state -the poor gentleman was in, for he durst not move, and what a picture -of patience and grim endurance he did present! The King having done, -withdrew, and bidding his mistress farewell, left the chamber. The lady -had the door immediately shut behind him, and calling her lover into -her, did warm the poor man, giving him a clean shift to put on. Nor was -it without some fun and laughter, after the fright they had had; for -an if he had been discovered, both he and she had been in very serious -peril. - -’Twas the same lady, which being deep in love with this M. de Bonnivet, -and desiring to convince the King of the contrary, for that he had -conceived some touch of jealousy on the subject, would say thus to him: -“Oh! but he’s diverting, that Sieur de Bonnivet, who thinks himself so -handsome! and the more I tell him he is a pretty fellow, the more he -doth believe it. ’Tis my great pastime, making fun of the man, for he’s -really witty and ready-tongued, and no one can help laughing in his -company, such clever retorts doth he make.” By these words she was for -persuading the King that her common discourse with Bonnivet had naught -to do with love and alliance, or playing his Majesty false in any wise. -How many fair dames there be which do practise the like wiles, and to -cloak the intrigues they are pursuing with some lover, do speak ill -of him, and make fun of him before the world, though in private they -soon drop this fine pretense; and this is what they call cunning and -contrivance in love. - -I knew a very great lady,[134*] who one day seeing her daughter, which -was one of the fairest of women, grieving for the love of a certain -gentleman, with whom her brother was sore angered, did say this to -her amongst other things: “Nay! my child, never love that man. His -manners and form be so bad, and he’s such an ugly fellow. He’s for all -the world like a village pastry cook!” At this the daughter burst out -a-laughing, making merry at his expense and applauding her mother’s -description, allowing his likeness to a pastry-cook, red cap and all. -For all that, she had her way; but some while after, in another six -months that is, she did leave him for another man. - -I have known not a few ladies which had no words bad enough to cast -at women that loved inferiors,—their secretaries, serving-men and -the like low-born persons, declaring publicly they did loathe such -intrigues worse than poison. Yet would these very same ladies be -giving themselves up to these base pleasures as much as any. Such -be the cunning ways of women; before the world they do show fierce -indignation against these offenders, and do threaten and abuse them; -but all the while behind backs they do readily enough indulge the same -vice themselves. So full of wiles are they! for as the Spanish proverb -saith, _Mucho sabe la zorra; mas sabe mas la dama enamorada_,—“The fox -knoweth much, but a woman in love knoweth more.” - - - 13. - -However, for all this fair lady of the tale told above did to lull King -Francis’ anxiety, yet did she not drive forth every grain of suspicion -from out his head, as I have reason to know. I do remember me how once, -making a visit to Chambord to see the castle, an old porter that was -there, who had been body servant to King Francis, did receive me very -obligingly. For in his earlier days he had known some of my people both -at Court and in the field, and was of his own wish anxious to show me -everything. So having led me to the King’s bed-chamber, he did show -me a phrase of writing by the side of the window on the left hand. -“Look, Sir!” he cried, “read yonder words. If you have never seen the -hand-writing of the King, mine old master, there it is.” And reading -it, we found this phrase, “_Toute femme varie_,” writ there in large -letters. I had with me a very honourable and very able gentleman of -Périgord, my friend, by name M. des Roches, to whom I turned and said -quickly: “’Tis to be supposed, some of the ladies he did love best, -and of whose fidelity he was most assured, had been found of him to -_vary_ and play him false. Doubtless he had discovered some change in -them that was scarce to his liking, and so, in despite, did write these -words.” The porter overhearing us, put in: “Why! surely, surely! make -no mistake, for of all the fair dames I have seen and known, never a -one but did cry off on a false scent worse than ever his hunting pack -did in chasing the stag; yet ’twas with a very subdued voice, for an if -he had noted it, he would have brought ’em to the scent again pretty -smartly.” - -They were, ’twould seem, of those women, which can never be content -with either their husbands or their lovers, Kings though they be, and -Princes and great Lords; but must be ever chopping and changing. Such -this good King had found them by experience to be, having himself first -debauched the same and taken them from the charge of their husbands or -their mothers, tempting them from their maiden or widowed estate. - -I have both known and heard speak of a lady,[135*] so fondly loved -of her Prince, as that for the mighty affection he bare her, he did -plunge her to the neck in all sorts of favours, benefits and honours, -and never another woman was to be compared with her for good fortune. -Natheless was she so enamoured of a certain Lord, she would never quit -him. Then whenas he would remonstrate and declare to her how the Prince -would ruin both of them, “Nay! ’tis all one,” she would answer; “an if -you leave me, I shall ruin myself, for to ruin you along with me. I had -rather be called your concubine than this Prince’s mistress.” Here you -have woman’s caprice surely, and wanton naughtiness to boot! Another -very great lady I have known, a widow, did much the same; for albeit -she was all but adored of a very great nobleman, yet must she needs -have sundry other humbler lovers, so as never to lose an hour of her -time or ever be idle. For indeed one man only cannot be always at work -and afford enough in these matters; and the rule of love is this, that -a passionate woman is not for one stated time, nor yet for one stated -person alone, nor will confine her to one passion,—reminding me of that -dame in the _Cent Nouvelles_ of the Queen of Navarre, which had three -lovers all at once, and was so clever she did contrive to manage them -all three most adroitly. - -The beautiful Agnes Sorel, the adored mistress of King Charles VII., -was suspected by him of having borne a daughter that he thought not to -be his, nor was he ever able to recognize her. And indeed, like mother, -like daughter, was the word, as our Chroniclers do all agree. The same -again did Anne Boleyn, wife of King Henry VIII. of England, whom he did -behead for not being content with him, but giving herself to adultery. -Yet had he chose her for her beauty, and did adore her fondly. - -I knew another lady which had been loved by a very honourable -gentleman, but after some while left by him; and one day it happened -that these twain fell to discussing their former loves. The gentleman, -who was for posing as a dashing blade, cried, “Ha! ha! and think you, -you were my only mistress in those days? You will be much surprised -to hear, I had two others all the while, would you not?” To this she -answered on the instant, “You would be yet more surprised, would you -not? to learn you were anything but mine only lover then, for I had -actually three beside you to fall back on.” Thus you see how a good -ship will always have two or three anchors for to ensure its safety -thoroughly. - -To conclude,—love is all in all for women, and so it should be! I will -only add how once I found in the tablets of a very fair and honourable -lady which did stammer a little Spanish, but did understand the same -language well enough, this little maxim writ with her own hand, for -I did recognize it quite easily: _Hembra o dama sin compagnero, -esperanza sin trabajo, y navio sin timon; nunca pueden hazer cost que -sea buena_,—“Man or woman without companion, hope without work, or -ship without rudder, will never do aught good for much.” ’Tis a saying -equally true for wife, widow and maid; neither one nor the other can -do aught good without the company of a man, while the hope a lover -hath of winning them is not by itself near so like to gain them over -readily as with something of pains and hard work added, and some strife -and struggle. Yet doth not either wife or widow give so much as a maid -must, for ’tis allowed of all to be an easier and simpler thing to -conquer and bring under one that hath already been conquered, subdued -and overthrown, than one that hath never yet been vanquished,—and that -far less toil and pains is spent in travelling a road already well worn -and beaten than one that hath never been made and traced out,—and for -the truth of these two instances I do refer me to travellers and men of -war. And so it is with maids; indeed there be even some so capricious -as that they have always refused to marry, choosing rather to live -ever in maidenly estate. But an if you ask them the reason, “’Tis so, -because my humour is to have it so,” they declare. Cybelé, Juno, Venus, -Thetis, Ceres and other heavenly goddesses, did all scorn this name -of virgin,—excepting only Pallas, which did spring from her father -Jupiter’s brain, hereby showing that virginity is naught but a notion -conceived in the brain. So, ask our maids, which will never marry, or -an if they do, do so as late as ever they can, and at an over ripe age, -why they marry not, “’Tis because I do not wish,” they say; “such is my -humour and my notion.” - -Several such we have seen at the Court of our Princes in the days -of King Francis. The Queen Regent had a very fair and noble maid of -honour, named Poupincourt,[136*] which did never marry, but died a maid -at the age of sixty, as chaste as when she was born, for she was most -discreet. La Brelandière again died a maid and virgin at the ripe age -of eighty, the same which was governess of Madame d’Angoulême as a girl. - -I knew another maid of honour of very great and exalted family, and -at the time seventy years of age, which would never marry,—albeit she -was no wise averse to love without marriage. Some that would fain -excuse her for that she would not marry, used to aver she was meet to -be no husband’s wife, seeing she had no affair at all. God knoweth the -truth! but at any rate she did find a good enough one to have good fun -elsewhere withal. A pretty excuse truly! - -Mademoiselle de Charansonnet, of Savoy, died at Tours lately, a maid, -and was interred with her hat and her white virginal robe, very -solemnly, with much pomp, stateliness and good company, at the age of -forty-five or over. Nor must we doubt in her case, ’twas any defect -which stood in the way, for she was one of the fairest, most honourable -and most discreet ladies of the Court, and myself have known her to -refuse very excellent and very high-born suitors. - -Mine own sister, Mademoiselle de Bourdeille, which is at Court maid of -honour of the present Queen, hath in like wise refused very excellent -offers, and hath never consented to marry, nor never will. So firm -resolved is she and obstinate to live and die a maid, no matter to -what age she may attain; and indeed so far she hath kept steady to her -purpose, and is already well advanced in years. - -Mademoiselle de Certan,[137*] another of the Queen’s maids of honour, -is of the same humour, as also Mademoiselle de Surgières, the most -learned lady of the Court, and therefore known as _Minerva_,—and not a -few others. - -The Infanta of Portugal, daughter of the late Queen Eleanor, I have -seen of the same resolved mind; and she did die a maid and virgin at -the age of sixty or over. This was sure from no want of high birth, for -she was well born in every way, nor of wealth, for she had plenty, and -above all in France, where General Gourgues did manage her affairs to -much advantage, nor yet of natural gifts, for I did see her at Lisbon, -at the age of five and forty, a very handsome and charming woman, of -good and graceful appearance, gentle, agreeable, and well deserving -an husband her match in all things, in courtesy and the qualities we -French do most possess. I can affirm this, from having had the honour -of speaking with this Princess often and familiarly. - -The late Grand Prior of Lorraine, when he did bring his galleys from -East to West of the Mediterranean Sea on his voyage to Scotland, in -the time of the minority of King Francis II., passing by Lisbon and -tarrying there some days, did visit and see her every day. She did -receive him most courteously and took great delight in his company, -loading him with fine presents. Amongst others, she gave him a chain -to suspend his cross withal, all of diamonds and rubies and great -pearls, well and richly worked; and it might be worth from four to -five thousand crowns, going thrice round his neck. I think it might -well be worth that sum, for he could always pawn it for three thousand -crowns, as he did one time in London, when we were on our way back from -Scotland. But no sooner was he returned to France than he did send to -get it out again, for he did love it for the sake of the lady, with -whom he was no little captivated and taken. And I do believe she was -no less fond of him, and would willingly have unloosed her maiden knot -for him,—that is by way of marriage, for she was a most discreet and -virtuous Princess. I will say more, and that is, that but for the early -troubles that did arise in France, into the which his brothers did draw -him and kept him engaged therein, he would himself have brought his -galleys back and returned the same road, for to visit this Princess -again and speak of wedlock with her. And I ween he would in that case -have hardly been shown the door, for he was of as good an house as -she, and descended of great Kings no less than she, and above all was -one of the handsomest, most agreeable, honourable and best Princes of -Christendom. Now for his brothers, in particular the two eldest, for -these were the oracles of the rest and captains of the ship, I did one -day behold them and him conversing of the matter, the Cardinal telling -them of his voyage and the pleasures and favours he had received at -Lisbon. They were much in favour of his making the voyage once more and -going back thither again, advising him to pursue his advantage in that -quarter, as the Pope would at once have given him dispensation of his -religious orders. And but for those accursed troubles I have spoke of, -he would have gone, and in mine opinion the emprise had turned out to -his honour and satisfaction. The said Princess did like him well, and -spake to me of him very fondly, asking me as to his death,—quite like a -woman in love, a thing easily enough perceived in such circumstances by -a man of a little penetration. - -I have heard yet another reason alleged by a very clever person, I say -not whether maid or wife,—and she had mayhap had experience of the -truth thereof,—why some women be so slow to marry. They declare this -tardiness cometh _propter mollitiem_, “by reason of luxuriousness.” -Now this word _mollities_ doth mean, they be so luxurious, that is to -say so much lovers of their own selves and so careful to have tender -delight and pleasure by themselves and in themselves, or mayhap with -their bosom friends, after the Lesbian fashion, and do find such -gratification in female society alone, as that they be convinced and -firmly persuaded that with men they would never win such satisfaction. -Wherefore they be content to go without these altogether in their -joys and toothsome pleasures, without ever a thought of masculine -acquaintance or marriage. - -Maids and virgins would seem in old days at Rome to have been highly -honoured and privileged, so much so that the law had no jurisdiction -over them to sentence them to death. Hence the story we read of a -Roman Senator in the time of the Triumvirate, which was condemned to -die among other victims of the Proscription, and not he alone, but all -the offspring of his loins. So when a daughter of his house did appear -on the scaffold, a very fair and lovely girl, but of unripe years and -yet virgin, ’twas needful for the executioner to deflower her himself -and take her maidenhead on the scaffold, and only then when she was so -polluted, could he ply his knife upon her. The Emperor Tiberius did -delight in having fair virgins thus publicly deflowered, and then put -to death,—a right villainous piece of cruelty, pardy! - -The Vestal Virgins in like manner were greatly honoured and respected, -no less for their virginity than for their religious character; for -indeed, an if they did show any the smallest frailty of bodily purity, -they were an hundred times more rigorously punished than when they had -failed to take good heed of the sacred fire, and were buried alive -under the most pitiful and terrible circumstances. ’Tis writ of one -Albinus, a Roman gentleman, that having met outside Rome some Vestals -that were going somewhither a-foot, he did command his wife and -children to descend from her chariot, to set them in it and so complete -their journey. Moreover they had such weight and authority, as that -very often they were trusted as umpires to make peace betwixt the Roman -people and the Knights, when troubles did sometimes arise affecting -the two orders. The Emperor Theodosius did expel them from Rome under -advice of the Christians; but in opposition to the said Emperor the -Romans did presently depute one Symmachus, to beseech him to restore -them again, with all their wealth, incomings and privileges as before. -These were exceedingly great, and indeed every day they were used to -distribute so great a store of alms, as that neither native Roman nor -stranger, coming or going, was ever suffered to ask an alms, so copious -was their pious charity toward all poor folk. Yet would Theodosius -never agree to bring them back again. - -They were named Vestals from the Latin word _vesta_, signifying fire, -the which may well turn and twist, shoot and sparkle, yet doth it -never cast seed, nor receive the same,—and so ’tis with a virgin. They -were bound so to remain virgins for thirty years, after which they -might marry; but few of them were fortunate in so leaving their first -estate, just like our own nuns which have cast off the veil and quitted -the religious habit. They kept much state and went very sumptuously -dressed,—of all which the poet Prudentius doth give a pleasing -description, being apparently much in the condition of our present -Lady Canonesses of Mons in Hainault and Réaumond in Lorraine, which be -permitted to marry after. Moreover this same Prudentius doth greatly -blame them because they were used to go abroad in the city in most -magnificent coaches, correspondingly attired, and to the Amphitheatres -to see the games of the Gladiators and combats to the death betwixt men -and men, and men and wild beasts, as though finding much delight in -seeing folk thus kill each other and shed blood. Wherefore he doth pray -the Emperor to abolish these sanguinary contests and pitiful spectacles -altogether. The Vestals at any rate should never behold suchlike -barbarous sports; though indeed they might say for their part: “For -lack of other more agreeable sports, the which other women do see and -practise, we must needs content us with these.” - -As for the estate of widows in many cases, there be many which do love -just as soberly as these Vestals, and myself have known several such; -but others again would far fainer take their joy in secret with men, -and in the fullness of complete liberty, rather than subject to them -in the bonds of marriage. For this reason, when we do see women long -preserve their widowhood, ’tis best not over much to praise them as we -might be inclined to do, till we do know their mode of life, and then -only, according to what we have learned thereof, either to extol them -most highly or scorn them. For a woman, when she is fain to unbend her -severity, as the phrase is, is terribly wily, and will bring her man -to a pretty market, an if he take not good heed. And being so full of -guile, she doth well understand how to bewitch and bedazzle the eyes -and wits of men in such wise they can scarce possibly recognize the -real life they lead. For such or such an one they will mistake for a -perfect prude and model of virtue, which all the while is a downright -harlot, but doth play her game so cunningly and furtively none can ever -discover aught. - -I have known a great Lady in my time, which did remain a widow more -than forty years, so acting all the while as to be esteemed the most -respectable woman in country or Court, yet was she _sotto coverto_ -(under the rose) a regular, downright harlot. So featly had she -followed the trade by the space of five and fifty years, as maid, wife -and widow, that scarce a suspicion had she roused against her at the -age of seventy, when she died. She did get full value of her privileges -as a woman; one time, when a young widow, she fell in love with a -certain young nobleman, and not able otherwise to get him, she did come -one Holy Innocents’ day into his bed-chamber, to give him the usual -greetings. But the young man gave her these readily enough, and with -something else than the customary instrument. She had her dose,—and -many another like it afterward.[138*] - -Another widow I have known, which did keep her widowed estate for fifty -years, all the while wantoning it right gallantly, but always with the -most prudish modesty of mien, and many lovers at divers times. At the -last, coming to die, one she had loved for twelve long years, and had -had a son of him in secret, of this man she did make so small account -she disowned him completely. Is not this a case where my word is -illustrated, that we should never commend widows over much, unless we -know thoroughly their life and life’s end? - -But at this rate I should never end; and an end we must have. I am well -aware sundry will tell me I have left out many a witty word and merry -tale which might have still better embellished and ennobled this my -subject. I do well believe it; but an if I had gone on so from now to -the end of the world, I should never have made an end; however if any -be willing to take the trouble to do better, I shall be under great -obligation to the same. - - * * * * * - -Well! dear ladies, I must e’en draw to an end; and I do beg you pardon -me, an if I have said aught to offend you. ’Tis very far from my -nature, whether inborn or gotten by education, to offend or displeasure -you in any wise. In what I say of women, I do speak of some, not of -all; and of these, I do use only false names and garbled descriptions. -I do keep their identity so carefully hid, none may discover it, and -never a breath of scandal can come on them but by mere conjecture and -vague suspicion, never by certain inference. - -I fear me ’tis only too likely I have here repeated a second time -sundry witty sayings and diverting tales I have already told before in -my other Discourses. Herein I pray such as shall be so obliging as to -read all my works, to forgive me, seeing I make no pretence to being -a great Writer or to possess the retentive memory needful to bear all -in mind. The great Plutarch himself doth in his divers Works repeat -several matters twice over. But truly, they that shall have the task -of printing my books, will only need a good corrector to set all this -matter right. - - - - - [Illustration: Decorative scrollwork above chapter start] - - - - - NOTES - - -[1] P. 3: - - ◆At first this discourse was the last; it is outlined in the - manuscript 608 as follows: “Discourse on why beautiful and faithful - women love valiant men, and why worthy men love courageous women.” - -[2] P. 5: - - ◆Virgil, in his Æneid (Bk. I), makes Penthesileia appear only after - Hector’s death. For these accounts on the Amazons, consult _Traité - historique sur les Amazones_, by Pierre Petit, Leyde, 1718. - -[3] P. 6: - - ◆See Boccaccio, _De Claris Mulieribus_. - - ◆Æneid, IV., 10–13. - -[4] P. 8: - - ◆A Latin work of Boccaccio in nine books. - - ◆Bk. IX., Chap. 3. - -[5] P. 9: - - ◆_Nouvelle_, 1554–1574. - - ◆Bandello, t. III., p. 1 (Venice, 1558). - -[6] P. 11: - - ◆The Duc d’Anjou, afterwards Henri III. of France, is meant. He was - the third son of Henri II. and Catherine de Medici, and was born at - Fontainebleau 1551. On the death of his brother Charles IX. in 1574 - he succeeded to the throne. Died 1589. The victories referred to - are those of Jarnac and Montcontour. - -[7] P. 12: - - ◆Ronsard, _Œuvres_, liv. 1, 174th sonnet. - -[8] P. 13: - - ◆“Petit-Lit” is Leith,—the port of Edinburgh, on the Firth of Forth. - The English army under Lord Grey of Wilton invaded Scotland in - 1560, and laid siege to Leith, then occupied by the French. The - place was stubbornly defended, but must soon have fallen, when - envoys were sent by Francis II. from France to conclude a peace. - These were Monluc, Bishop of Valence, and the Sieur de Rendan - mentioned in the text; the negotiators appointed to meet them on - the English side were the Queen’s great minister Cecil and Wotton, - Dean of Canterbury. The French troops were withdrawn. - - ◆The little Leith. (Cf. Jean de Beaugué, _Histoire de la guerre - d’Ecosse_, reprinted by Montalembert in 1862, Bordeaux.) - - ◆Jacques de Savoie, Duke de Nemours, died in 1585. - - ◆Charles de La Rochefoucauld, Count de Randan, was sent to England in - 1559, where he arranged peace with Scotland. - -[9] P. 14: - - ◆An imaginary king without authority. - - ◆Philibert le Voyer, lord of Lignerolles and of Bellefllle, was - frequently employed as a diplomatic agent. He was in Scotland - in 1567. He was assassinated at Bourgueil in 1571, because he - was suspected of betraying Charles IX.’s avowal regarding Saint - Bartholomew. - - ◆Brantôme knew quite well that the woman the handsome and alluring - Duke de Nemours truly loved was no other than Mme. de Guise, Anne - d’Este, whom he later married. - -[10] P. 15: - - ◆XVIth Tale. Guillaume Gouffier, lord of Bonnivet. - - ◆Marguerite de Valois took Bussy d’Amboise partly because of his - reputation as a duellist. - -[11] P. 17: - - ◆Jacques de Lorge, lord of Montgomerie, captain of Francis I.’s - Scotch Guard and father of Henri II.’s involuntary murderer. - -[12] P. 18: - - ◆Claude de Clermont, Viscount de Tallard. - - ◆François de Hangest, lord of Genlis, captain of the Louvre, who died - of hydrophobia at Strassburg in 1569. - -[13] P. 19: - - ◆It is undoubtedly Louise de Halwin, surnamed Mlle. de Piennes the - Elder, who later married Cipier of the Marcilly family. - - ◆It is to this feminine stimulation that King Francis I. alluded - in the famous quatrain in the Album of Aix, which is rightly or - wrongly attributed to him. - -[14] P. 20: - - ◆Agnès Sorel, or Soreau, the famous mistress of Charles VII., was - daughter of the Seigneur de St. Gérard, and was born at the village - of Fromenteau in Touraine in 1409. From a very early age she was - one of the maids of honour of Isabeau de Lorraine, Duchess of - Anjou, and received every advantage of education. Her wit and - accomplishments were no less admired than her beauty. - - She first visited the Court of France in the train of this latter - Princess in 1431, where she was known by the name of the - _Demoiselle_ de Fromenteau, and at once captivated the young King’s - heart. She appeared at Paris in the Queen’s train in 1437, but was - intensely unpopular with the citizens, who attributed the wasteful - expenditure of the Court and the misfortunes of the Kingdom to her. - Whatever may be the truth of Brantôme’s tale of the astrologer, - there is no doubt as to her having exerted her influence to rouse - the King from the listless apathy he had fallen into, and the idle, - luxurious life he was leading in his Castle of Chinon, while the - English were still masters of half his dominions. - - She was granted many titles and estates by her Royal lover,—amongst - others the castle of Beauté, on the Marne, whence her title of La - Dame de Beauté, and that of Loches, in the Abbey Church of which - she was buried on her sudden death in 1450, and where her tomb - existed down to 1792. - - ◆Charles VII., son of the mad Charles VI., born 1403, crowned at - Poitiers 1422, but only consecrated at Reims in 1429, after the - capture of Orleans and the victories due to Jeanne d’Arc. The - adversary of the Burgundians and the English under the Duke of - Bedford and Henry V. of England. Died 1461. - - ◆Henry V. of England, reigned, 1413–1422. - - ◆Bertrand du Guesclin, Constable of France, the most famous warrior - of the XIVth Century, and one of the greatest Captains of any age, - was born about 1314 near Rennes of an ancient and distinguished - family of Brittany. He was the great champion of France in the wars - with the English, and the tales of his prowess are endless. Died - 1380. - -[15] P. 21: - - ◆Béatrix, fourth daughter of Raymond-Béranger IV., Count de Provence. - -[16] P. 22: - - ◆Isabeau de Lorraine, daughter of Charles II., married René d’Anjou. - -[17] P. 24: - - ◆He called himself René de La Platière, lord of Les Bordes, and was - ensign in Field Marshal de Bourdillon’s company; he was killed at - Dreux. He was the son of François de La Platière and Catherine - Motier de La Fayette. - - ◆Brantôme, in his eulogy of Bussy d’Amboise, relates that he - reprimanded that young man for his mania of killing. The woman whom - he compares here to Angélique was Marguerite de Valois. - -[18] P. 27: - - ◆Brantôme is unquestionably referring again in this paragraph to - Marguerite de Valois and Bussy d’Amboise. - -[19] P. 28: - - ◆_Orlando furioso_, canto V. - -[20] P. 30: - - ◆That is why Marguerite de Valois turned away “that big disgusting - Viscount de Turenne.” She compared him “to the empty clouds which - look well only from without.” (_Divorce satyrique._) - - ◆This is very likely an adventure that happened to Brantôme, and he - had occasion to play the rôle of the “gentilhomme content.” - -[21] P. 32: - - ◆According to Lalanne, the two gentlemen are Le Balafré and - Mayenne. If the “grande dame” was Marguerite, she bore Mayenne no - grudge, whom she described as “a good companion, big and fat, and - voluptuous like herself.” - -[22] P. 37: - - ◆It is Madeleine de Saint-Nectaire or Senneterre, married to the lord - of Miramont, Guy de Saint-Exupéry; she supported the Huguenots. - She defeated Montal in Auvergne, and according to Mézeray, killed - him herself in 1574. (See Anselme, t. IV., p. 890.) In 1569, Mme. - de Barbancon had also fought herself; she, too, was formerly an - Italian, Ipolita Fioramonti. - -[23] P. 39: - - ◆On the large square with the tower, in the centre of Sienna. - -[24] P. 40: - - ◆Livy, Bk. XXVII., Chap. XXXVII. - -[25] P. 42: - - ◆_Orlando furioso_, cantos XXII. and XXV. - - ◆Christophe Jouvenel des Ursins, lord of La Chapelle, died in 1588. - - ◆Henri II. - -[26] P. 44: - - ◆Ipolita Fioramonti, married to Luigi di Malaspina, of the Padua - branch; she was general of the Duke of Milan’s armies. (Litta, - Malaspina di Pavia, t. VIII., tav. xx.) - - ◆Famous fortified city and seaport on the Atlantic coast of France; - 800 miles S. W. of Paris, capital of the modern Department of - Charente-Inférieure. - -[27] P. 45: - - ◆The interview between François de La Noue, surnamed Bras-de-Fer - (iron arm), and the representatives of Monsieur, François, Duke - d’Alencon, took place February 21, 1573. The scene that Brantôme - describes happened Sunday, February 22. - -[28] P. 46: - - ◆What Brantôme advances here is to be found in Jacques de Bourbon’s - _La grande et merveilleuse oppugnation de la noble cité de Rhodes_, - 1527. - - ◆The siege took place in 1536. - -[29] P. 47: - - ◆August 14, 1536. Count de Nassau besieged Péronne at the head of - 60,000 men; the population defended itself with the uttermost - energy. Marie Fouré, according to some, was the principal heroine - of this famous siege; according to others, all the honor should go - to Mme. Catherine de Foix. (Cf. _Pièces et documents relatifs au - siège de Péronne, en 1536._ Paris, 1864.) - - ◆The siege of Sancerre began January 3, 1573; but the rôle of the - women was more pacific than at Péronne; they nursed the wounded - and fed the combatants. The energetic Joanneau governed the city. - (Poupard, _Histoire de Sancerre_, 1777.) - - ◆Vitré was besieged by the Duke de Mercœuer in 1589. This passage of - Brantôme’s is quoted in the _Histoire de Vitré_ by Louis Dubois - (1839, pp. 87–88). - - ◆Péronne, a small fortified town of N. W. France, on the Somme and in - the Department of same name. It was bombarded by the Prussians in - 1870, and the fine belfry of the XIVth Century destroyed. Its siege - by the Comte de Nassau was in 1536. - - ◆Sancerre, a small town on the left bank of the Loire, modern - Department of the Cher, 27 miles from Bourges. The Huguenots of - Sancerre endured two terrible sieges in 1569 and 1573. - - ◆Vitré, a town of Brittany, modern Department Ille-et-Vilaine, of - about 10,000 inhabitants. Retains its medieval aspect and town - walls to the present day. - -[30] P. 48: - - ◆Collenuccio, Bk. V. - -[31] P. 49: - - ◆Boccaccio has arranged this story in his _De claries mulieribus_, - cap. CI. Vopiscus, _Aurelius_, XXVI–XXX, relates this fact more - coolly. - - ◆Zenobia, the famous Queen of Palmyra, widow of Odena—thus, who had - been allowed by the weak Emperor Gallienus to participate in the - title of Augustus, and had extended his empire over a great part - of Asia Minor, Syria and Egypt. She was eventually defeated by - Aurelian in a great battle on the Orontes not far from Antioch. - Palmyra was destroyed, and its inhabitants massacred; and Zenobia - brought in chains to Rome. - - ◆The Emperor Aurelian was born about 212 A. D., and was of very - humble origin. He served as a soldier in almost every part of the - Roman Empire, and rose at last to the purple by dint of his prowess - and address in arms, succeeding Claudius in 270 A. D. Almost the - whole of his short reign of four years and a half was occupied in - constant fighting. Killed in a conspiracy 275 A. D. - -[32] P. 53: - - ◆Perseus, the last King of Macedon, son of Philip V., came to the - throne 179 B. C. His struggle with the Roman power lasted from 171 - to 165, when he was finally defeated at the battle of Pydna by the - consul L. Aemilius Paulus. He was carried to Rome and adorned the - triumph of his conqueror in 167 B. C., and afterwards thrown into a - dungeon. He was subsequently released, however, on the intercession - of Aemilius Paulus, and died in honourable captivity at Alba. - - ◆Maria of Austria, sister of Charles V., widow of Louis II. of - Hungary, and ruler over the Netherlands; she died in 1558. It was - against her rule that John of Leyden struggled. - - ◆Brantôme has in mind Aurelia Victorina, mother of Victorinus, - according to Trebillius Pollio, _Thirty Tyrants_, XXX. - -[33] P. 54: - - ◆In Froissart, liv. I, chap. 174. - - ◆Henri I., Prince de Condé, died in 1588 (January 5), poisoned, says - the _Journal de Henri_, by his wife Catherine Charlotte de la - Trémolle. - - ◆Isabella of Austria, daughter of Philip II. - - ◆Jeanne de Flandres. - -[34] P. 55: - - ◆Jacquette de Montberon, Brantôme’s sister-in-law. - - ◆Machiavelli, Dell’arte della guerre, Bk. V., ii. - -[35] P. 56: - - ◆Paule de Penthièvre, the second wife of Jean II. de Bourgogne, Count - de Nevers. - -[36] P. 57: - - ◆Richilde, Countess de Hainaut, who died in 1091. - - ◆Hugues Spencer, or le Dépensier. - - ◆Jean de Hainaut, brother of Count de Hainaut. - - ◆Cassel and Broqueron. - - ◆Edward II. of Caernarvon, King of England, was the fourth son of - Edward I. and Queen Eleanor. Ascended the throne 1307, and married - Isabel of France the following year. A cowardly and worthless - Prince, and the tool of scandalous favourites, such as Piers - Gaveston. Isabel and Mortimer landed at Orwell, in Suffolk, in - 1326, and deposed the King, who was murdered at Berkeley Castle, - 1327. - -[37] P. 58: - - ◆Eleonore d’Acquitaine. - -[38] P. 59: - - ◆Thevet wrote the _Cosmographie_; Nauclerus wrote a _Chronographie_. - -[39] P. 60: - - ◆Vittoria Colonna, daughter of Fabrizio Colonna and of Agnes de - Montefeltro, born in 1490, and affianced at the age of four to - Ferdinand d’Avalos, who became her husband. The letter of which - Brantôme speaks is famous; he found it in Vallès, fol. 205. As for - Mouron, he was the great Chancellor Hieronimo Morone. - -[40] P. 61: - - ◆Plutarch, _Anthony_, Chap. xiv. - -[41] P. 62: - - ◆Catherine Marie de Lorraine, wife of Louis de Bourbon, Duke De - Montpensier. - - ◆Henri III., assassinated at Paris, 1589. - -[42] P. 65: - - ◆The _other man_ was Mayenne. - -[43] P. 67: - - ◆Poltrot de Méré was tortured and quartered (March 18, 1563). As - regards the admiral, he was massacred August 24, 1572. - -[44] P. 68: - - ◆Philibert de Marcilly, lord of Cipierre, tutor of Charles IX. - -[45] P. 71: - - ◆On this adventure, consult the Additions au Journal de Henri III., - note 2. - -[46] P. 72: - - ◆Louis de Correa, _Historia de la conquista del reino de Navarra_. - -[47] P. 76: - - ◆Louise de Savoie. - -[48] P. 77: - - ◆Charlotte de Roye, married to Francis III. de La Rochefoucauld in - 1557; she died in 1559. - -[49] P. 78: - - ◆Marguerite de Foix-Candale, married to Jean Louis de Nogaret, Duke - d’Eperon. - -[50] P. 79: - - ◆Renée de Bourdeille, daughter of André and Jacquette Montberon. She - married, in 1579, David Bouchard, Viscount d’Aubeterre, who was - killed in Périgord in 1593. She died in 1596. The daughter of whom - Brantôme is about to speak was Hippolyte Bouchard, who was married - to François d’Esparbez de Lussan. The three daughters whom he later - mentions were: Jeanne, Countess de Duretal, Isabelle, Baroness - d’Ambleville, and Adrienne, lady of Saint-Bonnet. - -[51] P. 80: - - ◆Married subsequently to François d’Esparbez de Lussan, Maréchal - d’Aubeterre. - -[52] P. 83: - - ◆Renée de Clermont, daughter of Jacques de Clermont-d’Amboise, - lord of Bussy; she was married to the incompetent Jean de - Montluc-Balagny (bastard of the Bishop de Valence), created Field - Marshal of France in 1594. - -[53] P. 84: - - ◆Gabrielle d’Estrées. - -[54] P. 85: - - ◆Popular song of the day; Musée de Janequin. See _Recueil_ of Pierre - Atteignant. - -[55] P. 89: - - ◆Renée Taveau, married to Baron Mortemart. François de Rochechouart. - -[56] P. 91: - - ◆There is a copy of this sixth discourse in the MS. 4788, _du fonds - français_, at the Bibliothèque Nationale: this copy is from the end - of the sixteenth century. - -[57] P. 92: - - ◆ Charlotte de Savoie, second wife of Louis XI., daughter of Louis, - Duke de Savoie. - - ◆Louis XI. is generally supposed not only to have bandied many such - stories with all the young bloods at the Court of Philippe le Bon, - Duke of Burgundy, where he had taken refuge when Dauphin, but - actually to have taken pains to have a collection of them made - and afterwards published in the same order in which we have them, - in the Work entitled “_Cent Nouvelles nouvelles_,” _lequel en soy - contient cent chapitres ou histoires, composées ou récitées par - nouvelles gens depuis naguères_,—“An Hundred New Romances,—a Work - containing in itself an hundred chapters or tales, composed or - recited by divers folk in these last years.” This is confirmed by - the words of the original preface or notice, which would appear to - have been written in his life-time: “And observe that throughout - the _Nouvelles_, wherever ’tis said by _Monseigneur_, Monseigneur - the Dauphin is meant, which hath since succeeded to the crown and - is now King Louis XI.; for in those days he was in the Duke of - Burgundy’s country.” But as it is absolutely certain this Prince - only withdrew into Brabant at the end of the year 1456, and only - returned to France in August 1461, it is quite impossible the - Collection can have appeared in France about the year 1455, as - is stated without sufficient consideration in the preface of the - latest editions of this work. Two ancient editions are known, - one,—Paris 1486, folio; the other also published at Paris, by the - widow of Johan Treperre, N. D., also folio. Besides this, two - modern editions, with badly executed cuts, printed at Cologne, by - Pierre Gaillard, 1701 and 1736 respectively, 2 vols. 8vo. - -[58] P. 93: - - ◆ By _Bourguignonne_ the King meant _étrangère_ (foreigner). - -[59] P. 94: - - ◆See the sojourn of Charles VIII. at Lyons: _Séjours de Charles VIII. - et Louis XII. à Lyon sur le Rosne jouxte la copie des faicts, - gestes et victoires des roys Charles VIII. et Louis XII._, Lyon, - 1841. - - ◆Louis XII. had really been a “good fellow,” without mentioning - the laundress of the court, who was rumored to be the mother of - Cardinal de Bucy, he had known at Genoa Thomasina Spinola, with - whom, according to Jean d’Authon, his relations were purely moral. - -[60] P. 97: - - ◆Francis I. forbade by the decree of December 23, 1523, that any - farces be played at the colleges of the University of Paris - “Wherein scandalous remarks are made about the King or the princes - or about the people of the King’s entourage.” (Clairambault, 824, - fol. 8747, at the Biblilothèque Nationale.) This king maintained, - as Brantôme says, that women are very fickle and inconstant; he - wrote to Montmorency of his own sister Marguerite de Valois, - November 8, 1537: “We may be sure that when we wish women to stop - they are dying to trot along; but when we wish them to go they - refuse to budge from their place.” (Clairambault, 336, fol. 6230, - v^o.) - -[61] P. 98: - - ◆Paul Farnese, Paul III.—1468–1549. - - ◆The queen arrived at Nice, June 8, 1538, where the king and Pope - Paul III. were. The ladies of whom Brantôme speaks should be the - Queen of Navarre, Mme. de Vendôme, the Duchess d’Etampes, the - Marquess de Rothelin—that beautiful Rohan of whom it was said that - her husband would get with child and not she—and thirty-eight - gentlewomen. (Clair., 336, fol. 6549.) - - ◆John Stuart, Duke of Albany, grandson of James II., King of - Scotland. He was born in France in 1482 and died in 1536. The - anecdote that Brantôme relates is connected with the journey of - Clement VI. to Marseilles at the time of the marriage of Henri - II., then Duke d’Orléans, with the niece of the pope, Catherine de - Medici. The marriage took place at Marseilles in 1533. - -[62] P. 100: - - ◆Louise de Clermont Tallard, who married as her second husband the - Duc d’Uzes. Jean de Taix was the grand master of artillery. - -[63] P. 107: - - ◆He was called Pierre de La Mare, lord of Matha, master of the horse - to Marguerite, sister of the king. (Bib. Nat., Cabinet des Titres, - art. Matha.) Aimée de Méré was at the court from 1560 to 1564. - Hence this adventure took place during that time. (Bib. Nat. ms. - français 7856, fol. 1186, v^o.) - -[64] P. 108: - - ◆Povided with “bards,” plate-armour used to protect a horse’s breast - and flanks. - -[65] P. 109: - - ◆This Fontaine-Guérin was in all likelihood Honorat de Bueil, lord of - Fontaine-Guérin, gentleman of the king’s bed-chamber, councillor of - State, who died in 1590. He was a great favorite of Charles IX. - -[66] P. 112: - - ◆The lady in question was Françoise de Rohan, dame de La Garnache, if - we are to believe Bayle in the _Dict. Critique_, p. 1817, 2nd. ed., - though there would seem to be some doubt about it. The “very brave - and gallant Prince” was the Duc de Nemours. - - ◆A German dance, the _Facheltanz_. - -[67] P. 113: - - ◆Marie de Flamin. - -[68] P. 114: - - ◆The son of this lady was Henri d’Angoulème, who killed Altoviti and - was killed by him at Aix, and not at Marseilles, June 2, 1586. - Philippe Altoviti was the Baron of Castellane; he had married the - beautiful Renée de Rieux-Châteauneuf. - -[69] P. 115: - - ◆_Le Tigre_—a pamphlet by François Hotman directed against the - Cardinal de Lorraine and the Duchesse de Guise, 1560. - -[70] P. 116: - - ◆Philibert de Marcilly, lord of Cipierre. - -[71] P. 117: - - ◆That pamphlet was aimed at Anne d’Este, Duchess de Guise, at the - time of her marriage with the Duc de Nemours. - -[72] P. 119: - - ◆Brantôme alludes to the hatred of the Duchess de Montpensier. - -[73] P. 120: - - ◆Marie de Clèves, who died during her lying-in in 1574. - - ◆Catherine Charlotte de La Trémolle, Princess de Condé. - -[74] P. 122: - - ◆Not found anywhere in Brantôme’s extant works. - -[75] P. 125: - - ◆Du Guast or Lignerolles. However, it may refer to Bussy d’Amboise. - - -[76] P. 126: - - ◆Marie Babou de la Bourdaisière, who married Claude de Beauvillier - Saint-Aignan in 1560. - -[77] P. 128: - - ◆Plutarch, _Sylla_, cap. XXX. - -[78] P. 129: - - ◆Queen Maria of Hungary, ruler of the Netherlands, and sister of - Charles V. - - ◆Plutarch, _Cato of Utica_, cap. XXXV. - -[79] P. 132: - - ◆The personages in question are Henri III., Renée de - Rieux-Châteauneuf, then Mme. de Castellane, and Marie de Clèves, - wife of the Prince de Condé. - - ◆Louis de Condé, who deserted Isabeau de La Tour de Limeuil to marry - Françoise d’Orléans. The beauty of which Brantôme speaks can - scarcely be seen in the portrait in crayon of Isabeau de Limeuil - who became Mme. de Sardini. - -[80] P. 135: - - ◆Mottoes were constantly used at that time. - -[81] P. 136: - - ◆Anne de Bourbon, married in 1561 to François de Clèves, Duke de - Nevers and Count d’Eu. - -[82] P. 146: - - ◆The empress was Elizabeth of Portugal; the Marquis de Villena, M. - de Villena; the Duke de Feria, Gomez Suarez de Figueroa, Duke de - Feria; Eleonor, the Queen of Portugal, later married to François - I^{er}; Queen Marie, the Queen of Hungary. - -[83] P. 147: - - ◆Elizabeth, daughter of Henri II. - -[84] P. 151: - - ◆The MS. of this discourse is at the Bibliothèque Nationale (Ms. fr. - 3273); it is written in a good hand of the end of the sixteenth - century. It is dedicated to the Duke d’Alençon. - -[85] P. 152: - - ◆_Opere_ di G. Boccaccio, _Il Filicopo_, Firenze, 1723, t. II., p. 73. - -[86] P. 159: - - ◆_La Tournelle_ in the original. This was the name given to the - Criminal Court of the Parliament of Paris. - -[87] P. 161: - - ◆Barbe de Cilley; she died in 1415. - -[88] P. 166: - - ◆Brantôme is undoubtedly referring to Mme. de Villequier. - -[89] P. 172: - - ◆This is again Isabeau de La Tour Limeuil. - -[90] P. 178: - - ◆See XXVth Tale in _Cent Nouvelles nouvelles_. - -[91] P. 188: - - ◆Honoré Castellan. - - ◆Baron de Vitteau was this member of the Du Prat family; he killed - Louis de Béranger du Guast. - -[92] P. 190: - - ◆Chicot was Henri III.’s jester who killed M. de La Rochefoucauld on - Saint Bartholomew’s Day. - -[93] P. 194: - - ◆_Alberic de Rosate_, under the word “Matrimonium” in his - _Dictionary_ reports an exactly similar instance. _Barbatias_ has - something even more extraordinary, how a boy of seven got his nurse - with child. - -[94] P. 195: - - ◆The Queen Mother Catherine de Medici. The author gives her name in - his book of the _Dames Illustres_, where he tells the same story. - -[95] P. 207: - - ◆Jean de Rabodanges, who married Marie de Clèves, mother of Louis - XII. She was _reine blanche_, that is, she was in mourning; at that - time the women of the nobility wore white when in mourning. - -[96] P. 207: - - ◆These eighteen chevaliers, who were elevated in one batch, caused a - good deal of gossip at the court. - -[97] P. 214: - - ◆Louis de Béranger du Guast. - -[98] P. 216: - - ◆She was thirty-five; she died three years later. - -[99] P. 217: - - ◆It is the Château d’Usson in Auvergne. - -[100] P. 218: - - ◆Louis de Saint-gelais-Lansac. - -[101] P. 220: - - ◆Jeanne, married to Jean, Prince of Portugal. She died in 1578. - -[102] P. 225: - - ◆Sébastien, died in 1578. This passage in Brantôme is not one of the - least irreverent of this hardened sceptic. - -[103] P. 226: - - ◆The portraits of Marie disclose a protruding mouth. She is generally - represented with a cap over her forehead. This feature is to be - found in a marked degree in Queen Eleanore; and her brother Charles - V. also had a protruding mouth. The drooping lip was likewise - characteristic of all the later Dukes de Bourgogne. - -[104] P. 228: - - ◆The entanglements of which Brantôme speaks were: the revolt of the - Germanats, in Spain, in 1522; of Tunis or Barbarie, 1535; the - troubles in Italy, also in 1535; the revolt in the Netherlands, - provoked by the taxes imposed by Maria, in 1540. M. de Chièvres was - Guillaume de Croy. - -[105] P. 229: - - ◆Folembray, the royal residence occupied by François I^{er} and later - by Henri II. Henri IV. negotiated there with Mayenne during the - Ligue. - - ◆Bains en Hainaut. - -[106] P. 230: - - ◆Claude Blosset, surnamed Torcy, lady of Fontaine Chalandray. - -[107] P. 234: - - ◆Christine of Denmark, daughter of Christian II., first married to - Francesco Maria Sforza, Duke of Milan. In 1540, five years after - her husband’s death, she married Francis I. of Lorraine. Her son - was Charles II. of Lorraine. - - ◆N. de La Brosse-Mailly. - -[108] P. 285: - - ◆A small plank attached to the saddle of a lady’s horse, and serving - to support the rider’s feet. Superseded by the single stirrup and - pommel. - -[109] P. 236: - - ◆Guy du Faur de Pybrac. - -[110] P. 243: - - ◆Renée, wife of Guillaume V., Duke de Bavière. - -[111] P. 246: - - ◆Blanche de Montferrat, wife of Charles I^{er}, Duke de Savoie; she - died in 1509. - -[112] P. 247: - - ◆Paradin, _Chronique de Savoye_, III, 85. - - ◆The seneschal’s lady of Poitou was Mme. de Vivonne. - -[113] P. 249: - - ◆Nicolas de Lorraine-Vaudemont, father-in-law of Henri III. - - ◆Françoise d’Orléans, widow of Louis, Prince de Condé. - -[114] P. 250: - - ◆Louise, daughter of Nicolas de Lorraine-Vaudemont, married in 1575; - she died in 1601. - -[115] P. 252: - - ◆Jean de Talleyrand, former ambassador at Rome. - -[116] P. 255: - - ◆Refers of course to the assassination of Henri III., by the monk - Clément (1589). - -[117] P. 256: - - ◆Marguerite de Lorraine, whose second marriage was with François de - Luxembourg, Duke de Piney. - - ◆Mayenne, Duke du Maine. - - ◆Aymard de Chastes. - -[118] P. 257: - - ◆Catherine de Lorraine. - -[119] P. 273: - - ◆Jean Dorat, died in 1588. Louis de Béranger du Guast. - -[120] P. 280: - - ◆Caesar Borgia, son of Pope Alexander VI. - - ◆Thomas de Foix, lord of Lescun, brother of Mme. de Châteaubriant. - - ◆Piero Strozzi, Field Marshal of France. - -[121] P. 281: - - ◆Jean de Bourdeille, brother of Brantôme. He died at the age of - twenty-five at the siege of Hesdin. It was from him that the joint - title of Brantôme passed on to our author. - - ◆Henri de Clermont, Viscount de Tallard. - - ◆André de Soleillas, Bishop of Riez in Provence, in 1576. He had a - mistress who was given to playing the prude, but whose hypocrisy - did not deceive King Henri IV. That Prince, one day rebuking this - lady for her love affairs, said her only delight was in _le jeune - et l’oraison_,—fast and prayer. - -[122] P. 282: - - ◆This widow of a Field Marshal of France was very likely the lady - of Field Marshal de Saint-André. She wedded as a second husband - Geoffroi de Caumont, abbé de Clairac. She called herself Marguerite - de Lustrac. As for Brantôme’s aunt, it should be Philippe de - Beaupoil; she married La Chasteignerie, and as a second husband - François de Caumont d’Aymé. - -[123] P. 285: - - ◆Anne d’Anglure de Givry, son of Jeanne Chabot and René d’Anglure - de Givry. Jeanne married as a second husband Field Marshal de La - Chastre. - - ◆ Jean du Bellay and Blanche de Tournon. - -[124] P. 288: - - ◆Odet de Coligny, Cardinal de Chastillon, married to Elizabeth de - Hauteville. - -[125] P. 290: - - ◆Henri II., who neglected his wife, the Queen, for the Duchesse de - Valentinois (Diane de Poitiers), who was already quite an old woman - and had been his father, the preceding King’s, mistress. - -[126] P. 293: - - ◆About the year 400 of the Christian era, St. Jerome witnessed the - woman’s funeral, and he it is reports the fact mentioned in the - text. _Epist. ad Ageruchiam, De Monogamia._ - - ◆Charles de Rochechouart. - -[127] P. 302: - - ◆Scio was taken in 1566 by the Turks. - -[128] P. 309: - - ◆It was to her that King Henri IV. said at a court ball by way of - amusing the company, that she had used green wood and dry wood - both. This jest he made at her expense, because the said lady did - never spare any other woman’s good name. - -[129] P. 310: - - ◆L’histoire et Plaisante cronique du Petit Jehan de Saintré, par - Antoine de La Salle. Paris, 1517. - -[130] P. 312: - - ◆XLVth Tale. - -[131] P. 314: - - ◆According to Rabelais, _poultre_ (filly) is the name given to a mare - that has never been leapt. So Bussy was not speaking with strict - accuracy in using the term in this case. - -[132] P. 316: - - ◆An allusion to the affair of Jarnac, who killed La Chasteignerie, - Brantôme’s uncle, in a duel (1547) with an unexpected and decisive - thrust of the sword. - - ◆Alesandro de Medici, killed, in 1537, by his cousin Lorenzino. - -[133] P. 317: - - ◆Mme. de Chateaubriant. - -[134] P. 318: - - ◆Perhaps Marguerite de Valois and the ugly Martigues. - -[135] P. 321: - - ◆The one-eyed Princess d’Eboli and the famous Antonio Perez. - -[136] P. 323: - - ◆Jeanne de Poupincourt. - -[137] P. 324: - - ◆Anne de Berri, Lady de Certeau, at the court in 1583. Hélène de - Fonsèques. - - ◆This princess was very ugly. - -[138] P. 330: - - ◆In the sixteenth century it was customary to whip lazy people in - bed. See Marot’s epigram: Du Jour des Innocens. - - - END OF VOLUME TWO - - - —————————————— End of Book —————————————— - - - - - Transcriber’s Note (continued) - - -The book contains long passages of older French in which the reader -will notice many flaws in grammar, spelling and accents. These may make -some of the French difficult to read but it will be obvious that this -cannot be fixed without sometimes inadvertently changing the intended -meaning. For that reason all passages in French are presented unchanged -in this transcription. - -Similarly with the passages in Italian and Spanish. - -For the rest of the text, the many inconsistencies in English spelling, -capitalisation, and hyphenation have been left unchanged except where -noted below. Other minor typographical errors have been corrected -without note. - - Page xxviii – “or” changed to “of” (a contemporary of) - - Page 93 – “nay” changed to “any” (scarce any account of her) - - Page 126 – “may” changed to “many” (how many stages) - - Page 138 – “Fontainbleau” changed to “Fontainebleau” - (at Fontainebleau) - - Page 259 – “Randam” changed to “Randan” (Madame de Randan) - - Page 290 – “Cnæus” changed to “Gnæus” (Gnæus Pompeius) - - —————————— - -The numbered references to endnotes on the pages of the book are -incorrect in most cases. Many other pages of the book should have -had references to endnotes but those references are missing. - -In order to reindex the references in this transcription, a temporary -‘placeholder’ reference was added to those pages where there should -have been at least one numbered reference to endnotes but it was -omitted in the book. - -The transcriber has retained these placeholder references as they are -helpful to the reader. Placeholder references are distinguished by an -asterisk next to the index number (as in [99*], for example). Their -role is exactly the same as that of the references originally present -in the book; namely to direct the reader to the correct page header in -the endnotes. Under that page header will be found all the author’s -notes relevant to the page. - -Where originally there were more than one numbered reference to -endnotes on a page of the book, these now have the same index number -in this transcription. That index number links to the respective page -header in the endnotes. - -Endnotes have been reformatted so that each separate note is -distinguished by a prefixing ◆ character. - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIVES OF FAIR AND GALLANT -LADIES. 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} -.large { font-size: large; } -.x-large { font-size: x-large; } - -.hanging1 { padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em; } - -.bold { font-weight: bold; } - -.noindent { text-indent: 0em; } - -.no-wrap { white-space: nowrap; } - -.illowe30 { width: 30em; } -.illowe25 { width: 25em; } - -.caption { font-weight: normal; font-size: small; } - -/* == Dropcap stuff */ - -img.drop-cap -{ - float: left; - margin: 0 0.7em 0 0; -} - -p.drop-cap:first-letter -{ - color: transparent; - visibility: hidden; - margin-left: -2.3em; -} - -.x-ebookmaker img.drop-cap -{ - display: none; -} - -.x-ebookmaker p.drop-cap:first-letter -{ - color: inherit; - visibility: visible; - margin-left: 0; -} -.x-ebookmaker p.drop-cap { text-indent: 0; } - -.upper-case -{ - text-transform: uppercase; -} - /* ]]> */ </style> - </head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Lives of Fair and Gallant Ladies. Vol 2., by Seigneur De Brantôme</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Lives of Fair and Gallant Ladies. Vol 2.</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Seigneur De Brantôme</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 27, 2021 [eBook #67026]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Chris Curnow, Quentin Campbell, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIVES OF FAIR AND GALLANT LADIES. VOL 2. ***</div> - -<div class="coverimg center-img-cover x-ebookmaker-drop"> - <a rel="nofollow" href="images/cover.jpg"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /> - </a> - <div class="coverimg-caption x-ebookmaker-drop"> - <p class="noindent center">This cover image is placed in the public domain.</p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="transnote p4"> -<a id="top"></a> -<p class="noindent center TN-style-1 bold">Transcriber’s Note</p> - -<p class="center TN-style-1">See <a class="underline" href="#TN">end -of this document</a> for details of corrections and other changes.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold x-large p4" style="font-family:'Lucida Calligraphy', serif;"> -Lives of<br /> -Fair and Gallant Ladies</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p class="noindent center bold large p1">VOLUME II</p> - -<hr class="chap p6 x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<div class="figcenter illowe30 mt4 mb4" style="max-width: 65.5em;" id="frontispiece"> - <img class="w100" src="images/i_frontis_cropped.jpg" alt="frontispiece" /> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="noindent center"> - <span class="small bold" style="font-family:'Lucida Calligraphy', serif;">Marguerite of Valois</span><br /> - <span class="x-small"><i>From an old engraving.</i></span> - </p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter p4"></div> -<h1 class="nobreak" style="font-family:'Lucida Calligraphy', serif;" id="Lives"> -<span style="font-size: 110%;">Lives</span><br /><br /> -<span style="font-size: 70%;">Of</span><br /><br /> -<span style="font-size: 150%;">Fair and Gallant Ladies</span></h1> - -<p class="noindent center bold p2" style="font-family:'Lucida Calligraphy', serif;"> -<span style="font-size: 130%;">By</span><br /><br /> -<span style="font-size: 210%;">The Seigneur De Brantôme</span></p> - - -<p class="noindent center p4">TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL<br /><br /><br /></p> - -<hr class="r5" /> -<p class="noindent center large">VOLUME II</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p class="noindent center p4 b4" style="font-family:'Lucida Calligraphy', serif;"> -<span style="font-size: 210%;">The Alexandrian Society, Inc.</span><br /> -<span style="font-size: 130%;">London and New York</span><br /> -<span style="font-size: 130%;">1922</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center p4"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1922, by</span></p> -<p class="noindent center"><span class="smcap">THE ALEXANDRIAN SOCIETY, Inc.</span></p> - -<p class="noindent center p4 b4"><span class="smcap">printed in the united states of america</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter illowe25 mt4" style="max-width: 65.5em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/i_chapter_heads.jpg" alt="chapter head scroll work" /> -</div> - -<h2 class="nobreak p2" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<table class="toc"> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="3"><p class="no-para-margins"> </p></td> - <td class="tdr"><p class="noindent x-small right no-para-margins">PAGE</p></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="3"><p class="hanging2-left-align no-para-margins"><span class="smcap">Introduction. By Georg Harsdörfer</span></p></td> - <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_vii">vii</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="4"><p class="noindent center">FIFTH DISCOURSE</p></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="3"><p class="hanging2-left-align no-para-margins"><span class="smcap">Telling How Fair and Honorable Ladies Do Love - Brave and Valiant Men, and Brave Men Courageous Women</span></p></td> - <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="4"><p class="noindent center">SIXTH DISCOURSE</p></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="3"><p class="hanging2-left-align no-para-margins"><span class="smcap">Of How We Should Never Speak Ill of Ladies, and - of the Consequences of So Doing</span></p></td> - <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="4"><p class="noindent center">SEVENTH DISCOURSE</p></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="3"><p class="hanging2-left-align no-para-margins"><span class="smcap">Concerning Married Women, Widows and Maids: to - Wit, Which of These Same Be Better Than the Other to Love</span></p></td> - <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" style="width: 5em;"><span class="smcap"> Article</span></td> - <td class="tdr" style="width: 2em;"><span class="smcap">I.</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><p class="hanging2-left-align no-para-margins"><span class="smcap"> Of the Love of Married Women</span></p></td> - <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" style="width: 4em;"><span class="smcap"> Article</span></td> - <td class="tdr" style="width: 2em;"><span class="smcap">II.</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><p class="hanging2-left-align no-para-margins"><span class="smcap"> Of the Love of Maids</span></p></td> - <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" style="width: 4em;"><span class="smcap"> Article</span></td> - <td class="tdr" style="width: 2em;"><span class="smcap">III.</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><p class="hanging2-left-align no-para-margins"><span class="smcap"> Of the Love of Widows</span></p></td> - <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="3"><p class="hanging2-left-align no-para-margins p2"><span class="smcap">Notes</span></p></td> - <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_335">335</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">[vii]</span></p> - - -<div class="figcenter illowe25 mt4" style="max-width: 65.5em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/i_chapter_heads.jpg" alt="chapter head scroll work" /> -</div> - -<h2 class="nobreak p2" id="INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t_coloured.jpg" width="70" height="70" alt="" /> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> Mondragola of Machiavelli, which reflects -Italian morals at the time of the Renaissance, is -well known. Lafontaine has later made use of -this motif in one of his humorous stories. In the -fourth chapter Liguro arrays in battle order an officer, a -valet and a doctor, for a humorous love expedition. Liguro -says: “In the right corner we shall place Callimaque; I shall -place myself in the extreme left corner, and the doctor in the -middle. He will be called St. Cuckold.”</p> - -<p>An interlocutor: “Who is this Saint?”</p> - -<p>“The greatest Saint of France.”</p> - -<p>This question and the answer given are delicious. Brantôme -might have made this witticism even in his time. Perhaps -he merely did not write it down, for after all he could -not make too extensive use of his favorite play with the -word “cocu.”</p> - -<p>“The cuckold, the greatest Saint of France”; this might -have been the motto of the “Dames Galantes.” Philarete -Chasles would have denied this, of course. He always maintained -that Gaul was pure and chaste, and that if France was -full of vice, it had merely been infected by neighboring -peoples. But this worthy academician was well informed -merely regarding Italian influence. He was extremely unaware -of the existence of the cuckold in the sixteenth century. -He even asserts in the strongest terms (in his preface to the -edition of 1834) that all of this had not been so serious; the -courtiers had merely desired to be immoral in an elegant -fashion. He even calls Brantôme “un fanfaron de licence,” -a braggart of vice. Indeed he would feel unhappy if he -could not reassure us: “Quand il se plonge dans les impuretes,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">[viii]</span> -c’est, croyez-moi, pure fanfaronnade de vice.” Who -would not smile at this worthy academician who has remained -so unfamiliar with the history of his kings? His “believe -me” sounds very well. But the best is yet to come. The -book of the “Dames Galantes” was by no means to be considered -merely a frivolous collection of scandalous anecdotes, -but a “curious historical document.”</p> - -<p>There will probably always be a difference of opinion regarding -Brantôme’s position in the history of civilization. -It will probably be impossible to change the judgments of -the ordinary superficial reader. But we do not wish to dispose -of Brantôme as simply as that. It is very easy for a -Puritan to condemn him. But we must seek to form a fairer -judgment. Now in order to overcome this difficulty, it is, of -course, very tempting simply to proclaim his importance for -the history of civilization and to put him on the market as -such. This would not be wrong, but this method has been -used altogether too freely, both properly and improperly. -Besides, Brantôme is too good to be labelled in this manner. -He does not need it either, he is of sufficient historical importance -even without its being pointed out. The question now -arises: From what point of view are we then to comprehend -Brantôme? We could answer, from the time in which he -lived. But that, speaking in such general terms, is a commonplace. -It is not quite correct either. For in spite of the -opinions of the educated we must clearly distinguish between -Brantôme as an author and Brantôme as a man—and we shall -hear more of this bold anarchistic personality, who almost -throws his chamberlain’s key back at the king. This is another -striking case where the author must by no means be -identified with his book. These events might have passed -through another person’s mind; they would have remained -the same nevertheless. For Brantôme did not originate them, -he merely chronicled them. Now it usually happens that -things are attributed to an author of which he is entirely -innocent (does not Society make an author pay for his confessions<span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">[ix]</span> -in book-form?). He is even charged with a crime -when he merely reports such events. The responsibility which -Brantôme must bear for his writings is greatly to be limited. -And if our educated old maids simply refuse to be reconciled -with his share we need merely tell them that this share is -completely neutralized by his own personal life.</p> - -<p>Brantôme undoubtedly considered himself an historian. -That was a pardonable error. There is a great difference of -opinion regarding the historical value of his reports, the -most general opinion being that Brantôme’s accuracy is in no -way to be relied upon, and that he was more a chronicler and -a writer of memoirs. To be sure, Brantôme cannot prove the -historical accuracy of every statement he makes. Who would -be able to give an exact account of this kaleidoscope of details? -But the significance, the symbolic value is there.</p> - -<p>In order to substantiate this sharp distinction between the -book of Fair and Gallant Ladies and the supposed character -of its author, I must be permitted to describe France of the -sixteenth century. Various essayists have said that this -period had been quite tame and pure in morals, that Brantôme -had merely invented and exaggerated these stories. But when -they began to cite examples, it became evident that their -opinion was like a snake biting its own tail. Their examples -proved the very opposite of their views.</p> - -<p>Brantôme’s book could only have been written at the time -of the last of the Valois. These dissolute kings furnished -material for his book. Very few of these exploits can be -charged to his own account, and even these he relates in an -impersonal manner. Most of them he either witnessed or they -were related to him, largely by the kings themselves. No -matter in what connection one may read the history of the second -half of the sixteenth century, the dissolute, licentious and -immoral Valois are always mentioned. The kings corrupted -this period to such an extent that Brantôme would have had -to be a Heliogabalus in order to make his own contributions -felt.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">[x]</span></p> - -<p>At the beginning of this period we meet with the influence -of the Italian Renaissance. Through the crusades of Charles -VIII., France came into close contact with it. These kings -conducted long wars for the possession of Milan, Genoa, Siena -and Naples. A dream of the South induced the French to -cross the Alps, and every campaign was followed by a new -flood of Italian culture. If at the beginning of the sixteenth -century France was not yet the Capital of grand manners, -it approached this condition with giant strides during the -reign of Francis I. For now there was added an invasion -of Spanish culture. Next to Rome, Madrid had the greatest -influence upon Paris. Francis I., this chivalrous king (1515–1547), -introduced a flourishing court life. He induced -Italian artists such as Leonardo and Cellini to come to Blois -and try to introduce the grand Spanish manners into his own -court. For a time France still seemed to be an imitation of -Italy, but a poor one. With the preponderance of the Spanish -influence the Etiquette of Society approached its perfection.</p> - -<p>Francis I. therefore brought knighthood into flower. He -considered a nobleman the foremost representative of the -people and prized chivalry more than anything else. The -court surrendered itself to a life of gaiety and frivolity; even -at this period the keeping of mistresses became almost an -official institution. “I have heard of the king’s wish,” Brantôme -relates, “that the noblemen of his court should not be -without a lady of their heart and if they did not do as he -wished he considered them simpletons without taste. But he -frequently asked the others the name of their mistresses and -promised to help and to speak for them. Such was his kindness -and intimacy.” Francis I. is responsible for this saying: -“A court without women is like a year without a spring, like -a spring without roses.” To be sure, there was also another -side to this court life. There were serious financial troubles, -corruption in administration and sale of offices. The Italian -architects who constructed the magnificent buildings of Saint<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xi">[xi]</span> -Germain, Chantilly, Chambord and Chenonceaux were by no -means inexpensive. Great interest was also taken in literary -things. A more refined French was developed at this period. -In Blois a library, Chambre de Librarye, was established. -All of the Valois had great talent in composing poetic epistles, -songs and stories, not merely Marguerite of Navarre, the -sister of Francis I., who following the example of her brother -was a patroness of the arts. To be sure, mention is also made -of the “terrifying immorality” in Pau, even though this may -not have been so bad. Brantôme is already connected with -this court life in Pau. His grandmother, Louise of Daillon, -Seneschal of Poitiers, was one of the most intimate ladies-in-waiting -of the Queen of Navarre. His mother, Anne of -Bourdeille, is even introduced in several stories of the <i>Heptameron</i>. -She is called Ennasuite, and his father Francis of -Bourdeille appears as Simontaut. Life in the Louvre became -more and more lax. Francis I., this royal Don Juan, -is even said to have been a rival of his son, without our knowing, -however, whether this refers to Catherine of Medici or -to Diana of Poitiers. Another version of the story makes -Henri II. a rival of his father for the favor of Diana of -Poitiers. But the well known revenge of that deceived nobleman -which caused the death of Francis I. was entirely unnecessary. -It is said that the king had been intentionally infected. -He could not be healed and died of this disease. At any rate, -his body was completely poisoned by venereal ulcers, when -he died. This physical degeneration was a terrible heritage -which he left to his son, Henri II. (1547–1550).</p> - -<p>The latter had in the meantime married Catherine of Medici. -Italian depravities now crossed the Alps in even greater numbers. -She was followed by a large number of astrologers, -dancers, singers, conjurors and musicians who were like a -plague of locusts. She thus accelerated the cultural process, -she steeped the court of Henri II. as well as that of his three -sons in the spirit of Italy and Spain. (The numerous citations -of Brantôme indicate the frequency and closeness of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xii">[xii]</span> -relations at this time between France and Spain, the classical -country of chivalry.) But her greed for power was always -greater than her sensual desires. Though of imposing exterior, -she was not beautiful, rather robust, ardently devoted -to hunting, and masculine also in the quantity of food she -consumed. She talked extremely well and made use of her -literary skill in her diplomatic correspondence, which is estimated -at about 6,000 letters. She was not, however, spared -the great humiliation of sharing the bed and board of her -royal husband with Madame de Valentinois, Diana of Poitiers, -the mistress of Henri II. In this difficult position with an -ignorant and narrow-minded husband who was moreover -completely dominated by his favorites, she maintained a very -wise attitude. Catherine of Medici was, of course, an intriguing -woman who later tried to carry out her most secret purposes -in the midst of her own celebrations.</p> - -<p>Henri II. had four sons and a daughter, who were born -to him by Catherine of Medici after ten years of sterility. -In them the tragic fate of the last of the Valois was fulfilled. -One after the other mounts the throne which is devoid of -any happiness. The last of them is consumed when he has -barely reached it. The blood of the Valois would have died -out completely but for its continuation in the Bourbons -through Marguerite, the last of the Valois, who with her bewitching -beauty infatuated men and as the first wife of Henri -IV. filled the world with the reports of her scandalous life. -There is tragedy in the fact that the book of Fair and Gallant -Ladies was dedicated to Alençon, the last and youngest of -the Valois. Of these four sons each was more depraved than -the other; they furnished the material for Brantôme’s story. -The book of Fair and Gallant Ladies, therefore, also seals -the end of the race.</p> - -<p>The line began with Francis II. He mounted the throne -when he was a boy of sixteen. He was as weak mentally as -he was physically. He died in 1560, less than a year later, -“as a result of an ulcer in the head.” Then Catherine of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</span> -Medici was Regent for ten years. In 1571 the next son, -Charles, was old enough to mount the throne. He was twenty-two -years old, tall and thin, weak on his legs, with a stooping -position and sickly pale complexion. Thus he was painted -by François Clouet, called Janet, a famous painting which -is now in possession of the Duke of Aumale. While a young -prince, he received the very best education. His teachers -were Amyot and Henri Estienne, with whom he read Plotin, -Plato, Virgil, Cicero, Tacitus, Polybius and Machiavelli. -Amyot’s translation of Plutarch’s Lives delighted the entire -court. “The princesses of the House of France,” Brantôme -relates, “together with their ladies-in-waiting and maids-of-honor, -took the greatest pleasure in the sayings of the Greeks -and Romans which have been preserved by sweet Plutarch.” -Thus literature came into its own even in this court life. But -they did not merely do homage to the old classical literature, -all of them were also versed in the art of the sonnet, and -were able to rhyme graceful love songs as well as Ronsard. -Charles IX. himself wrote poetry and translated the Odes of -Horace into French. His effeminate nature, at one moment -given to humiliating excesses and in the next consumed by -pangs of conscience, was fond of graceful and frivolous poetry. -But there was also some good in this movement. Whereas the -French language had been officially designated in 1539 as the -Language of Law, to be used also in lectures, Charles IX. -now gave his consent in 1570 for the founding of a Society -to develop and purify the language. But even in this respect -the honest de Thou denounced “this depraved age” and spoke -of “the poisoning of women by immoral songs.” This worthy -man himself wrote Latin, of course. A time of disorder was -now approaching, the revolts of the Huguenots were sweeping -through France. But these very disorders and dangers -encouraged a certain bold carelessness and recklessness. -Murder was slinking through the streets. It was the year of -St. Bartholomew’s Eve. The Duke of Anjou himself relates -that he feared to be stabbed by his own brother king, Charles<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</span> -IX., and later when he himself mounted the throne his brother -Alençon was in conspiracy against him. The Mignons and -the Rodomonts, the coxcombs and braggarts, were increasing -at this depraved court. Soon it was able seriously to compete -with Madrid and Naples. Indeed the people down there now -began to look up to France as the centre of fashion. Brantôme -was the first to recognize this and he was glad of it. -Indeed he even encouraged it. Even at that time the Frenchman -wished to be superior to all other people.</p> - -<p>The king was completely broken by the results of St. -Bartholomew’s Eve. His mind wandered back and forth. -He became gloomy and vehement, had terrible hallucinations, -and heard the spirits of the dead in the air. By superhuman -exertions he tried to drown his conscience and procure sleep. -He was constantly hunting, remaining in the saddle continuously -from twelve to fourteen hours and often three days -in succession. When he did not hunt he fenced or played ball -or stood for three to four hours at the blacksmith’s anvil -swinging an enormous hammer. Finally, consumption forced -him to stay in bed. But even now he passed his time by writing -about his favorite occupation, he was composing the <i>Livre -du Roy Charles</i>, a dissertation on natural history and the deer -hunt. When he reached the twenty-ninth chapter death overtook -him. This fragment deserves praise, it was well thought -out and not badly written.</p> - -<p>It is always unpleasant to say of a king that he had more -talent to be an author than a king. It is unfortunate but true -that the Valois were a literary race. But France itself in -1577 was in a sorry state. Everywhere there were ruins of -destroyed villages and castles. There were enormous stretches -of uncultivated land and cattle-raising was greatly diminished. -There were many loafing vagabonds accustomed to war and -robbery who were a danger to the traveller and the farmer. -Every province, every city, almost every house was divided -against itself.</p> - -<p>Francis of Alençon, the fourth of these brothers, who felt<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xv">[xv]</span> -himself coming of age, the last of the Valois, had already -begun his agitation. Charles IX. despised him and suspected -his secret intrigues. His other brother, Henri, had to watch -his every step in order to feel secure.</p> - -<p>Henri III. (1574–1589), formerly Henri of Anjou, was -barely twenty-five years old when his strength was exhausted. -But his greed of power which had already made him king of -the Polish throne was still undiminished. He was the most -elegant, the most graceful and the most tasteful of the Valois. -It was therefore only to be expected that he would introduce -new forms of stricter etiquette. D’Aubigne relates that he -was a good judge of the arts, and that he was “one of the -most eloquent men of his age.” He was always on the -search for poetry to gratify his erotic impulses. A life of -revelry and pleasure now began in the palace. Immorality -is the mildest reproach of his contemporary chroniclers. Although -well educated and a friend of the Sciences, of Poetry -and the Arts, as well as gifted by nature with a good mind, he -was nevertheless very frivolous, indifferent, physically and -mentally indolent. He almost despised hunting as much as -the conscientious discharge of government affairs. He greatly -preferred to be in the society of women, himself dressed in -a feminine fashion, with two or three rings in each ear. He -usually knew what was right and proper, but his desires, conveniences -and other secondary matters prevented him from -doing it. He discharged all the more serious and efficient -men and surrounded himself with insignificant coxcombs, the -so-called Mignons, with whom he dallied and adorned himself, -and to whom he surrendered the government of the state. -These conceited young men, who were without any redeeming -merit, simply led a gay life at the court. In his History of -France (I, 265), Ranke relates: “He surrounded himself -with young people of pleasing appearance who tried to outdo -him in cleanliness of dress and neatness of appearance. To -be a favorite, a Mignon, was not a question of momentary approval -but a kind of permanent position.” Assassinations<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvi">[xvi]</span> -were daily occurrences. D’Aubigne severely criticized the -terrifying conditions in the court and public life in general. -A chronicler says: “At that time anything was permitted -except to say and do what was right and proper.” This frivolous, -scandalous court consumed enormous sums of money. -Such a miserable wretch as Henri III. required for his personal -pleasures an annual sum of 1,000,000 gold thalers, -which is equivalent to about $10,000,000 in present values, -and yet the entire state had to get along with 6,000,000 -thalers. For this was all that could be squeezed out of the -country. Ranke says (page 269): “In a diary of this period, -the violent means of obtaining money and the squandering -of the same by the favorites are related side by side, and -it shows the disagreeable impression that these things made.” -Then there was also the contrast between his religious and -his worldly life. At one time he would steep his feelings in -orgies, then again he would parade them in processions. He -was entirely capable of suddenly changing the gayest raiment -for sackcloth and ashes. He would take off his jewel-covered -belt and put on another covered with skulls. And in order -that Satan might not be lacking, the criminal court (“chambre -ardente”) which was established at Blois had plenty of work -to do during his reign. It was also evident that he would -never have any children with his sickly wife.</p> - -<p>This same Henry III. while still Duke of Orleans tried to -gain the favor of Brantôme, who was then twenty-four years -old, and when he entered upon his reign appointed him his -chamberlain. This appointment took place in 1574. At the -same time, however, Francis of Alençon sought his favor. -Subsequently Brantôme entered into very intimate relations -with him.</p> - -<p>Alençon is described to us as being small though well built -but with coarse, crude features, with the temper and irritability -of a woman and even greater cowardliness, likewise unreliable, -ambitious and greedy. He was a very vain, frivolous person -without political or religious convictions. From his youth<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvii">[xvii]</span> -up he was weak and sickly. His brother Henri despised and -hated him and kept him a barely concealed prisoner as long -as he could. Then Alençon revolted, gathered armies, founded -a new Ultra-Royal party and moved on Paris. He even -wished at one time to have his mother removed from the -court, who was still carrying on her intrigues throughout the -entire kingdom. They were obliged to negotiate with him -and he succeeded in extorting an indemnity which was almost -equal to a royal authority. He received five duchies and four -earldoms and his court had the power of passing death sentences. -He had a guard and a corps of pages in expensive -liveries and conducted a brilliant court. We must try and -picture him as Ranke describes him, “small and stocky, of an -obstinate bearing, bushy black hair over his ugly pock-marked -face, which, however, was brightened by a fiery eye.”</p> - -<p>The book of Fair and Gallant Ladies is dedicated to Alençon, -but he did not see it any more. Brantôme, however, -must have begun it while he was still living. Alençon died -in 1584 at the age of thirty-one.</p> - -<p>Five years later Henri III. was stabbed by Jacques Clement. -Thus the race of Henri III., which was apparently so fruitful, -had withered in his sons. The remaining sister, who was -inferior according to the Salic Law, was also extremely immoral.</p> - -<p>Her husband, Henry IV., entered a country that was completely -exhausted. The state debt at the time he entered -upon his reign clearly showed the spirit of the previous governments. -In 1560 the state debt was 43,000,000 livres. -At the end of the century it had risen to 300,000,000. The -Valois sold titles and dignities to the rich, squeezed them -besides and were finally capable of mortgaging anything -they could lay their hands upon. In 1595 Henri IV. remarked -in Blois that “the majority of the farms and almost all the -villages were uninhabited and empty.” This mounting of the -state debt clearly indicates the extent of the depravity of the -court. During the reign of Charles IX. and Henri III., that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xviii">[xviii]</span> -is between 1570 and 1590, the dissoluteness reached its height -and this made it possible for Brantôme to collect such a -large number of stories and anecdotes. Catherine of Medici, -who outlived her race by a year and whose influence continued -during this entire period, does not seem to have been a -saint herself. But the last three of the Valois were the -worst, the most frivolous and lascivious of them all. It was -during their reign that the rule of mistresses was at its height -in the Louvre and the royal castles which furnished Brantôme -with his inexhaustible material. Such were the Valois.</p> - -<p>This is the background of Brantôme’s life. We should -like to know more about him. He has written about many -generals and important women of his age, but there are only -fragments regarding himself.</p> - -<p>The family Bourdeille is one of the most important in Perigord. -Like other old races they sought to trace their ancestors -back into the times of Gaul and Rome. Charlemagne is -said to have founded the Abbey Brantôme.</p> - -<p>Brantôme’s father was the “first page of the royal litter.” -His son speaks of him as “un homme scabreaux, haut a la -main et mauvais garçon.” His mother, a born Châtaigneraie, -was lady-in-waiting of the Queen of Navarre. Pierre was -probably also born in Navarre, but nothing is known as to the -exact day of birth. Former biographers simply copied, one -from the other, that he had died in 1614 at the age of eighty-seven. -This would make 1528 the year of his birth. But now -it is well known that Brantôme spent the first years of his life -in Navarre. Queen Marguerite died in 1549 and Brantôme -later writes of his sojourn at her court: “Moy estant petit -garçon en sa court.” Various methods of calculation seem -to indicate that he was born in 1540.</p> - -<p>After the death of the Queen of Navarre—this is also a -matter of record—Brantôme went to Paris to take up his -studies. From Paris, where he probably also was a companion -of the <i>enfants sanssouci</i>, he went to Poitiers to continue -them. There in 1555, while still “a young student,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xix">[xix]</span> -he became acquainted with the beautiful Gotterelle, who is -said to have had illicit relations with the Huguenot students. -When he had completed his studies in 1556 he as the youngest -son had to enter the church. He also received his share of -the Abbey Brantôme from Henri II. as a reward for the heroisms -of his older brother. This young abbot was about sixteen -years old. His signature and his title in family documents -in this period are very amusing: “Révérend père en -Dieu abbè de Brantôme.” As an abbot he had no ecclesiastical -duties. He was his own pastor, could go to war, get married -and do as he pleased. But nevertheless, this ecclesiastical -position did not suit him, and so he raised 500 gold -thalers by selling wood from his forests with which he fitted -himself out and then went off to Italy at the age of eighteen: -“Portant L’coquebuse a meche et un beau fourniment de -Milan, monte sur une haquenee de cent ecus et menant toujours -six on sept gentils hommes, armes et montes de meme, -et bien en point sur bons courtands.”</p> - -<p>He simply went off wherever there was war. In Piedmont -he was shot in the face by an arrow which almost deprived -him of his sight. There he was lying in Portofino in these -marvellously beautiful foothills along the Genoese coast, and -there he was strangely healed: “Une fort belle dame de la -ma jettait dans les yeux du lait de ses beaux et blancs -tetins” (<i>Vies des Capitaines français</i>, Ch. IV, 499). Then -he went to Naples with François de Guise. He himself describes -his reception by the Duke of Alcala. Here he also -became acquainted with Madame de Guast, die Marquise del -Vasto.</p> - -<p>In 1560 he left Italy and took up the administration of his -estates which heretofore had been in the hands of his oldest -brother, Andre. He joined the court in Amboise, where Francis -II. was conducting tournaments. At the same time the -House of Guise took notice of him. In recollection of his -uncle, La Châtaigneraie, he was offered high protection at the -court of Lorraine. From this time on he was at the court<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xx">[xx]</span> -for over thirty years. At first he accompanied the Duke of -Guise to his castle. Then after the death of Francis II. he -accompanied his widow, Mary Stuart, to England in August, -1561, and heard her final farewell to France.</p> - -<p>Although Brantôme could not say enough in praise of the -princes of Lorraine, the Guises, he did not go over to their -side. Once at a later period when he was deeply embittered -he allowed himself to be carried away by them. At the outbreak -of the civil wars, Brantôme, of course, sided with the -court. He also participated in the battle of Dreux. If there -happened to be no war in France he would fight somewhere -abroad. In 1564 he entered into closer relations with the -court of the Duke of Orleans (later Henri III.). He became -one of his noblemen and received 600 livres annually. (The -receipts are still in existence.) In the same year he also -took part in an expedition against the Berbers on the Coast -of Morocco. We find him in Lisbon and in Madrid, where he -was highly honored by the courts. When Sultan Soliman -attacked Malta, Brantôme also hurried thither. He returned -by way of Naples and again presented himself to the Marquise -de Guast. He thought that at last he had found his -fortune but he felt constrained to continue his journey. He -later denounces this episode in the most vehement terms. -“Toujours trottant, traversant et vagabondant le monde.” -He was on his way to a new war in Hungary, but when he -arrived in Venice he heard that it was not worth while. He -returned by way of Milan and Turin, where he gave the impression -of being greatly impoverished, but he was too proud -to accept the purse of the Duchess of Savoy.</p> - -<p>In the meantime, the Huguenots had forced the king to -make greater and greater concessions. Prince Condé and -Admiral Coligny had the upper hand. The Huguenots, who -heard that Brantôme had reasons to be displeased with the -king, tried to induce him to commit treason. But Brantôme -remained firm. He was given the title Captain (“Maître de -camp”) of two companies even though he only had one—but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxi">[xxi]</span> -that is typical of the French. This company (enseigne) was -under his command in the Battle of St. Venis (1567). In the -following year, 1568, Charles IX. engaged him as a paid -chamberlain. After the Battle of Jarnac in the following -year he was seized by a fever, as a result of which he had -to spend almost a year on his estates in order to recover.</p> - -<p>As soon as he was well again he wished to go off to war -somewhere. He complained that it had been impossible for -him to participate in the Battle of Lepanto. His friend, -Strozzi, was now getting ready an expedition to Peru, which -was to recompense him. But some misunderstanding caused -his separation from Strozzi shortly afterwards. The preparations -for this expedition had, however, kept him away from -St. Bartholomew’s Eve, even though later he cursed them -for personal reasons.</p> - -<p>Brantôme was not religious. He cannot be considered a -good judge in affairs of the Huguenots, for he was more -than neutral in religious matters. He took an indifferent -attitude towards the League. For as a secular priest, he had -the very best reasons for being neither in favor of the League -nor of the Huguenots. He speaks with great respect of -Coligny. They frequently met and the admiral was always -friendly. Brantôme disapproved of the Massacre of St. -Bartholomew’s Eve and considered it entirely reprehensible -and purposeless. This good warrior would have greatly preferred -to have seen these restless spirits engaged in a foreign -war. He says of this bloody eve: “Mort malheurse lu puis—je -bien appeller pour toute la France.” To be sure, in the -following year he was present at the Siege of La Rochelle, -the White City.</p> - -<p>He was at the court when Charles IX. died. He accompanied -the corpse from Notre Dame to St. Denis and then -entered the services of Henri III., who finally bestowed some -favors upon the brothers Bourdeille and gave them the -Bishopric of Perigneux.</p> - -<p>Then this restless soul was driven to approach Alençon,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxii">[xxii]</span> -the youngest of the Valois. Bussy d’Amboise, the foremost -nobleman of Alençon, was his friend. Alençon overwhelmed -him with kindness and Brantôme had to beg the angry king’s -pardon for his defection.</p> - -<p>But now an event occurred which almost drove Brantôme -into open rebellion. In 1582 his oldest brother died. The -Abbey had belonged to both of them, but his brother had appointed -his own heir and the king was helpless against this. -Brantôme became very angry because he was not the heir. “Je -ne suis qu’un ver de terre,” he writes. He now desired that -the king should at least give his share of the Abbey to his -nephew, but he was unsuccessful in this as well. Aubeterre -became Seneschal and Governor of Perigord. This fault-finder -could not control his anger: “Un matin, second jour -de premier de l’an ... je luy en fis ma plainte; il m’en fit -des excuses, bien qu’il fust mon roy. Je ne luy respondis -autre chose sinon: Eh bien, Sire, vous ne m’avez donne se -coup grand subject de vous faire jainais service comme j’ay -faict.” And so he ran off “fort despit.” As he left the -Louvre he noticed that the golden chamberlain’s key was still -hanging on his belt; he tore it off and threw it into the Seine, -so great was his anger.</p> - -<p>(When Aubeterre died in 1593 these posts were returned -to the family Bourdeille.)</p> - -<p>(Other reasons which angered Brantôme were less serious. -Thus he could not bear Montaigne because the latter was of -more recent nobility. He himself has shown that a man of -the sword could very well take up the pen to pass the time. -But he could not understand that the opposite might happen, -and a sword given to a man of the pen. He was appointed a -knight in the Order of St. Michael. But this did not satisfy -his ambition very much when he looked around and saw that -he had to share this distinction with many other men. He -wished to have it limited to the nobility of the sword. Now -his neighbor, Michel de Montaigne, received the same order. -Brantôme writes regarding this: “We have seen councillors<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxiii">[xxiii]</span> -leave the courts of justice, put down their robe and their four-cornered -hat and take up a sword. Immediately the king -bestowed the distinction upon them without their ever having -gone to war. This has happened to Monsieur de Montaigne, -who would have done better to remain at his trade and continue -to write his essays rather than exchange his pen for a -sword which was not nearly so becoming.”)</p> - -<p>Henri II. pardoned him his unmannerly behavior, but -the king’s rooms were closed to him. Then the Duke of Alençon -wished to gain his allegiance and appointed him chamberlain, -thereby rewarding him for the intimate relationship -which had existed between them ever since 1579. The duke -was the leader of the dissatisfied and so this fault-finder -was quite welcome to him. The book of Fair and Gallant -Ladies is the direct result of the conversations at the Court -of Alençon, for we hear that Brantôme soon wrote a few discourses -which he dedicated to the prince. Brantôme sold himself -to Alençon, which is almost to be taken literally. Then -Alençon died. Brantôme’s hopes were now completely -crushed.</p> - -<p>What was he to do now? He was angry at the king. His -boundless anger almost blinded him. Then the Guises approached -him and tried to induce him to swear allegiance to -the enemies of the Valois. He was quite ready to do this and -was at the point of committing high treason, for the King of -Spain was behind the Guises, to whom he swore allegiance. -But the outbreak of the war of the Huguenots, which resulted -in a temporary depreciation of all estates, prevented him -from carrying out his plans immediately. He could not sell -anything, and without money life in Spain was impossible. -But this new state of affairs gave him new energy and new -life. He walked about with “sprightly vigor.” He later -described his feelings in the <i>Capitaines français</i> (Ch. IV, -108): “Possible que, si je fusse venu an bout de vies attantes -et propositions, J’eusse faut plus de mal a ma patrie que -jamais n’a faict renegat d’Alger a’la sienne, dont J’en fusse<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxiv">[xxiv]</span> -este mandict a perpetuite, possible de Dieu et des hommes.”</p> - -<p>Then a horse that he was about to mount, shied, rose up and -fell, rolling over him, so that all his ribs were broken. He -was confined to his bed for almost four years; crippled and -lame, without being able to move because of pain.</p> - -<p>When he was able to rise again the new order of things -was in full progress, and when the iron hand of Henri IV., -this cunning Navarrese and secret Huguenot, swept over -France, the old court life also disappeared. Brantôme was -sickly and when the old Queen-mother Medici also died -(1590) he buried himself completely in his abbey and took no -interest henceforth in the events of his time.</p> - -<p>“Chaffoureur du papier”—this might be the motto of his -further life. Alas, writing was also such a resignation for -Brantôme, otherwise he would not have heaped such abuse -upon it. But we must not imagine that his literary talent -only developed after his unfortunate fall. Naturally he -made quite different and more extensive use of it under these -conditions than he otherwise would have done. Stirring up -his old memories became more and more a means of mastering -the sterile life of that period. Literature is a product of -impoverished life. It is the opium intoxication of memory, -the conjuring up of bygone events. The death-shadowed -eyes of Alençon had seen the first fragments of the book of -Fair and Gallant Ladies. The <i>Rondomontades Espagnoles</i> -must have been finished in 1590, for he offered them to the -Queen of Navarre in the Castle of Usson in Auvergne. But -beginning in 1590 there was a conscious exchange of the sword -for the pen. He knew himself well. On his bed of pain the -recollections of his varied life, his sufferings and the complaints -of his thwarted ambitions became a longed-for distraction. -He died July 15, 1614, and was buried in the -Chapel of Richemond.</p> - -<p>His manuscripts had a strange fate. They were the principal -care of his last will and testament. This in itself is a -monument to his pride. “J’ai bien de l’ambition,” he writes,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxv">[xxv]</span> -“je la veux encore monstrer apres ma mort.” He had decided -elements of greatness. The books in his library were -to remain together, “set up in the castle and not to be scattered -hither and thither or loaned to anyone.” He wished to -have the library preserved “in eternal commemoration of himself.” -He was particularly interested in having his works -published. He pretended to be a knight, and a nobleman, and -yet he prized most highly these six volumes beautifully bound -in blue, green and black velvet. His books, furthermore, were -not to be published with a pseudonym, but his own name was -to be openly printed on the title-page. He does not wish -to be deprived of his labors and his fame. He gave the strictest -instructions to his heirs, but he was constantly forced to -make additions to the will, because his executors died. He -outlived too many of them and had made his will too early. -The instructions regarding the printing of his books are very -amusing: “Pour les faire imprimer mieux a ma fantaisie, -... y’ordonne et veux, que l’on prenne sur ma lotate heredite -l’argent qu ’en pouvra valoir la dite impression, et qui ne se -pouvra certes monter a beaucoup, cur j’ay veu force imprimeurs -... que s’ils out mis une foys la veue, en donneront -plusoost pour les imprimer qu’ils n’en voudraient recepvoir; -car ils en impriment plusierus gratis que no valent pas les -mieux. Je m’en puys bien vanter, mesmes que je les ay -monstrez au moins en partie, a aueuns qui les ont voulu -imprimer sans rien.... Mais je n’ay voulu qu ils fussent -imprimez durant mon vivant. Surtout, je veux que la dicte -impression en soit en belle et gross lettre, et grand colume, -pour mieux paroistre....” The typographical directions -are quite modern. The execution of the will finally came into -the hands of his niece, the Countess of Duretal, but on account -of the offence that these books might give, she hesitated to -carry out the last will of her uncle. Then his later heirs -refused to have the books published, and locked the manuscripts -in the library. In the course of time, however, copies -came into circulation, more and more copies were made, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxvi">[xxvi]</span> -one of them found its way into the office of a printer. A fragment -was smuggled into the memoirs of Castelnau and was -printed with them in 1659. A better edition was now not far -off. In 1665 and 1666 the first edition was published in -Leyden by Jean Sambix. It comprised nine volumes in -Elzevir. This very incomplete and unreliable edition was -printed from a copy. Speculating printers now made a number -of reprints. A large number of manuscripts were now -in circulation which were named according to the copyists. -In the 17th and 18th centuries these books were invariably -printed from copies. The edition of 1822, <i>Oeuvres completes -du seigneur de Brantôme</i> (Paris: Foucault), was the first -to go back to the original manuscripts in possession of the -family Bourdeille. Monmergue edited it. The manuscript -of the book of Fair and Gallant Ladies was in the possession -of the Baroness James Rothschild as late as 1903. After -her death in the beginning of 1904, it came into possession -of the National Library in Paris, which now has all of Brantôme’s -manuscripts, and also plans to publish a critical revised -edition of his collected works.</p> - -<p>The two books, <i>Vies des Dames illustres</i> and <i>Vies des -Dames galantes</i>, were originally called by Brantôme Premier -and Second Livre des Dames. The new titles were invented -by publishers speculating on the taste of the times, which from -1660 to 1670 greatly preferred the words illustre and galante. -The best subsequent edition of the Fair and Gallant Ladies is -that printed by Abel Ledoux in Paris, 1834, which was edited -by Philarete Chasles, who also supplied an introduction and -notes. On the other hand, the critical edition of his collected -works in 1822 still contains the best information regarding -Brantôme himself, and the remarks by the editor Monmergue -are very excellent and far superior to the opinions which -Philarete Chasles expresses, poetic as they may be. The -crayon-drawings and copper-cuts of Famous and Gallant -Ladies of the sixteenth century contained in Bouchot’s book, -<i>Les femmes de Brantôme</i>, are very good; Bouchot’s text,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxvii">[xxvii]</span> -however, is merely a re-hash of Brantôme himself. Neither -must one over-estimate his reflections regarding the author of -the Fair and Gallant Ladies.</p> - -<p>There is a great difference between the two Livres des -Dames. What is an advantage in the one is a disadvantage in -the other. Undoubtedly Brantôme’s genius is best expressed -in the <i>Dames Galantes</i>. In this book the large number of -symbolical anecdotes is the best method of narration. In the -other they are more or less unimportant. Of course, Brantôme -could not escape the questionable historical methods of -that period, but shares these faults with all of his contemporaries. -Besides, he was too good an author to be an excellent -historian. The devil take the historical connection, as long -as the story is a good one.</p> - -<p>The courtier Brantôme sees all of history from the perspective -of boudoir-wit. Therefore his portraits of famous -ladies of his age are mere mosaics of haphazard observations -and opinions. He is a naïve story-teller and therefore his -ideas are seldom coherent. The value of his biographical -portraits consists in the fact that they are influenced by his -manner of writing, that they are the result of scandal and -gossip which he heard in the Louvre, or of conversations in -the saddle or in the trenches. He always preserves a respectful -attitude and restrains himself from spicing things too -freely. He did not allow himself to become a purveyor of -malicious gossip, he took great care not to offend his high -connections by unbridled speech, but his book lost interest on -that account.</p> - -<p>If we wish to do justice to Brantôme as the author of Fair -and Gallant Ladies, we must try and picture his position in -his age and in his society. It is not to be understood that -he suddenly invented all of these stories during his long illness. -Let us try and follow the origin of these memoirs. At -that time the most primitive conceptions of literary work in -general prevailed. The actual writing down of the stories -was the least. An author laboriously working out his stories<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxviii">[xxviii]</span> -was ridiculous. The idea and the actual creative work came -long before the moment when the author sat down to write. -None of Brantôme’s stories originated in his abbey, but in -Madrid, in Naples, in Malta before La Rochelle, in the Louvre, -in Blois and in Alençon. Writing down a story was a reproduction -of what had already been created, of what had been -formed and reformed in frequent retelling and polished to -perfection. The culture of the court was of great aid to -him in his style, but his own style was nevertheless far -superior.</p> - -<p>For decades Brantôme was a nobleman of his royal masters. -He was constantly present at the court and participated in -all of the major and minor events of its daily life, in quarrels -and celebrations. He was a courtier. He was entirely at -home in the halls and chambers of the Louvre, but even though -he stopped to chat with the idle courtiers in the halls of the -Louvre he never lowered himself to their level. He could be -extremely boisterous, yet inwardly he was reserved and observant. -He was the very opposite of the noisy, impetuous Bussy-Rabutin. -His intelligence and his wisdom made him a source -of danger among the chamberlains. His was a dual nature, -he was at the same time cynical and religious, disrespectful -and enthusiastic, refined and brutal, at the same time abbot, -warrior and courtier. Like Bernhard Palissy he ridiculed the -astrologers, yet he was subject to the superstitions of his age. -His temperament showed that his cradle had not been far from -the banks of the Garonne, near the Gascogne. There was -combined with his bold, optimistic, adventurous and restless -spirit, with his chivalrous ideas and prejudices, a boundless -vanity. A contemporary said of him: “He was as boastful -as Cellini.” Indeed he believed himself far superior to his -class, he not only boasted of himself and his family, but also -of his most insignificant deeds. He was irreconcilable in -hate, and even admonished his heirs to revenge him. His -royal masters he treated with respect tempered by irony. As -a contemporary of Rabelais, Marot and Ronsard, he was an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxix">[xxix]</span> -excellent speaker. If Rabelais had a Gallic mind then Brantôme’s -was French. His cheerful and lively conversation -was pleasing to all. He had a reputation of being a brilliant -man. But he was also known as a discreet person. Alençon, -who was a splendid story-teller himself and liked to hear -love stories more than anything else, preferred conversation -with him to anyone. His naïveté and originality made friends -for him everywhere. He had a brave and noble nature and -was proud of being a Frenchman, he was the personified -<i>gentilhomme français</i>.</p> - -<p>And thus his book originated. He must have taken up his -pen quite spontaneously one day. Now from the great variety -of his own experiences at court and in war, he poured forth -a remarkable wealth of peculiar and interesting features -which his memory had preserved. It is a book of the love-life -during the reign of the Valois. These stories were not -invented, but they were anecdotes and reports taken from -real life. He was able to evade the danger of boredom. -There is style even in his most impudent indiscretions. He -only stopped at mere obscenities. On the other hand, he -never hesitated to be cynical. As this age was fond of strong -expressions, a puritanical language was out of the question. -Not until the reign of Louis XIV. did the language become -more polite. Neither was Brantôme a Puritan, how could he -have been? But he had character. He took pleasure in -everything which was a manifestation of human energy. He -loved passion and the power to do good or evil. (To be sure -he also had some splendid things to say against immoderacy -and vehemence of passions. So he was a fit companion of the -Medici and the Valois.)</p> - -<p>There is not much composition in his books. His attention -wandered from one story to the other. Boccaccio, the foremost -story-teller of this period, is more logical. An academical -critic says of Brantôme: “He reports without choice what -is good and bad, what is noble and abominable, the good not -without warmth, but the bad with indestructible cheerfulness.”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxx">[xxx]</span> -There is neither order nor method in his writing. He -passes on abruptly, without motif, without transition. A -courtier, unfamiliar with the rules of the school, he himself -confesses (in the <i>Rodomontades Espagnoles</i>): “Son pen -de profession du scavoir et de l’art de bien dire, et remet aux -meux disans la belle disposition de paroles eloquentes.” Because -of the variety his stories have unusual charm. In these -numerous anecdotes the graceful indecencies of the ladies-in-waiting -at the court of the Valois are described as if they had -happened openly. His reports of the illicit relations are -rendered in a charming style. Even though his sketches and -pictures are modelled entirely on the life at the courts, nevertheless -he adds two personal elements: an amusing smile and -a remarkable literary talent. The following may even have -been the case. In the beginning Brantôme may have taken -an entirely neutral attitude towards the material at hand, -but took no greater personal interest in them than he would, -say, in memoirs. But when we can tell a story well, then we -also take pleasure in our ability. We permeate the story with -our own enjoyment, and in a flash it turns out to be pleasure -in the thing itself. The light of our soul glows upon them -and then the things themselves look like gold. Brantôme -rarely breaks through his reserve. He usually keeps his own -opinions regarding these grand ladies and gentlemen in the -background, he leaves it to the competent “grands discoureurs” -to judge these things. To be sure, if one wished to get information -regarding the court of Henri II. and Catherine of -Medici, one ought not exactly to read Brantôme, who creates -the impression as if the court were a model of a moral institution. -“Sa compaignie et sa court estait un vray paradis du -monde et escole de toute honnestate, de virtu, l’ornement de la -France,” he once says somewhere in the <i>Dames illustres</i> (page -64). On the other hand, L’Etorle in May, 1577, gives us a -report of a banquet given by the Queen-mother in Chenonceaux: -“Les femmes les plus belles et honnestes de la cour, -estant a moitie nues et ayant, les cheveux epars comme espousees,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxxi">[xxxi]</span> -fuient employees a faire le service.” Other contemporaries -likewise report a great deal of the immorality prevailing -at the court. Thus we have curious reports regarding -the pregnancy of Limeuil, who had her birth-throes in the -queen’s wardrobe in Lyon (1564), the father being the Prince -of Conde. Likewise, Johanna d’Albret warns her son, later -Henri IV., against the corruption of the court. When she -later visited him in Paris she was horrified at the immorality -at the court of her daughter-in-law, later Queen Margot, who -lived in the “most depraved and dissolute society.” (Brantôme -pretended that he was a relative of hers, and pronounced -a panegyric upon her in his Rodomontades which was -answered in her memoirs dedicated to him.) He did not feel -it his mission to be a Savonarola. To his great regret this -“culture” came home to him in his own family. He had more -and more cause to be dissatisfied with his youngest sister, -Madeleine. The wicked life of this lady-in-waiting filled -him with fury. He paid her her share and drove her from -the house.</p> - -<p>Certain Puritans among the historians find fault with Brantôme -for having uncovered the “abominations” at the courts -of the Valois. His vanity may have led him to make many -modifications in the events, but most of these are probably -due to his desire to be entertaining. In his dedication to the -<i>Rodomontades Espagnoles</i> he addresses Queen Margot as -follows: “Bien vous dirai-je, que ce que j’escrits est plein -de verite; de ce que j’ay veu, je l’asseure, di ce que j’ay seen -et appris d’autray, si on m’a trompe je n’en puis mais si tiens-je -pourtant beaucoup de choses de personnages et de livres -tres-veritables et dignes de foy.” Nevertheless, his method -was very primitive. In his descriptions of personalities, he -had a thread on which he could string up his recollections, so -that there was at least some consistency. In the book of -Fair and Gallant Ladies the individual fact is of less importance -and has more of symbolic value. They are pictures of -the time composed of a confusing multitude of anecdotes.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxxii">[xxxii]</span> -Perhaps the subject-matter required this bizarre method. -The <i>Heptameron</i> of Marguerite of Navarre was altogether too -precise. Brantôme was a man of the sword and a courtier, -but a courtier who occasionally liked to put his hand on his -sword in between his witticisms. In this state of mind, he -was an excellent story-teller, and his anecdotes and stories -therefore also have the actuality and the vigorous composition -of naïvely related stories.</p> - -<p>The book of Fair and Gallant Ladies still contains much of -historical value. Almost all the old noble races are mentioned; -there is information regarding Navarre, Parma, Florence, -Rome and Toulouse. The Huguenots likewise appear, and St. -Bartholomew’s Eve (1572), which was far back, still sheds -its gloom over these pages. The trenches before La Rochelle -play an important part; Brantôme always fought against the -Huguenots. Perhaps this was the reason why he was no -longer in favor with the Bourbon Henri IV. However, one -cannot charge him with animosity. Perhaps the frank and -open methods of reforming had affected him. Without taking -interest in religious quarrels, he probably also hated the -monks and priests. Thus one would be inclined to say to the -Puritans who condemn Brantôme: If one may speak of -guilt and responsibility, then it is his age which must bear -them. Brantôme merely chronicled the morals of his times. -The material was furnished to him, he merely wrote it down. -He is no more responsible for his book, than an editor of a -newspaper for the report of a raid or a bomb attack. Ranke -once said regarding the times of Henri II.: “If one wishes -to know the thoughts and opinions of France at that period, -one must read Rabelais” (History of France, Ch. I, 133). -Whoever wishes to become familiar with the age of Charles -IX. and Henri III. must read Brantôme.</p> - -<p style="text-align: right; margin-right: 3em;"> -<span class="smcap">Georg Harsdörfer.</span></p> - -<p class="b4">(Translated from the German.)</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold x-large p4">LIVES OF FAIR AND<br /> -GALLANT LADIES</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop p6" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter illowe25 mt4" style="max-width: 65.5em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/i_chapter_heads.jpg" alt="chapter head scroll work" /> -</div> - -<h2 class="nobreak p2" id="FIFTH_DISCOURSE">FIFTH DISCOURSE</h2> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center"><span style="font-family:'Lucida Calligraphy', serif;"> -Telling how fair and honourable ladies do love brave -and valiant men, and brave men courageous women.</span><a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1*]</a></p> - - -<p class="noindent center bold p2">1.</p> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_i_coloured16.jpg" width="70" height="70" alt="" /> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">It</span> hath ever been the case that fair and honourable -ladies have loved brave and valiant -men, albeit by natural bent they be cowardly -and timid creatures. But such a virtue doth -valour possess with them, as that they do grow altogether -enamoured thereof. What else is this but to constrain -their exact opposite to love them, and this spite of their -own natural complexion? And for an instance of this -truth, Venus, which in ancient days was the goddess of -Beauty, and of all gentle and courteous bearing, being -fain, there in the skies and at the Court of Jupiter, to -choose her some fair and handsome lover and so make -cuckold her worthy husband Vulcan, did set her choice -on never a one of the pretty young gallants, those dapper, -curled darlings, whereof were so many to hand, but -did select and fall deep in love with the god Mars, god -of armies and warlike prowess,—and this albeit he was -all foul and a-sweat with the wars he had but just come -from, and all besmirched with dust and as filthy as might<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span> -be, more smacking of the soldier in the field than the gallant -at Court. Nay! worse still, very oft mayhap all -bloody, as returning from battle, he would so lie with her, -without any sort of cleansing of himself or scenting of -his person.</p> - -<p>Again, the fair and high-born Penthesilea, Queen of the -Amazons, having learned of fame concerning the valour -and prowess of the doughty Hector, and his wondrous -feats of arms which he did before Troy against the -Greeks, did at the mere report of all this grow so fondly -enamoured of the hero, that being fain to have so valiant -a knight for father of her children, her daughters to wit -which should succeed to her kingdom, she did hie her -forth to seek him at Troy. There beholding him, and -contemplating and admiring his puissance, she did all ever -she could to find favour with him, not less by the brave -deeds of war she wrought than by her beauty, the which -was exceeding rare. And never did Hector make sally -upon his foes but she would be at his side, and was always -as well to the front as Hector himself in the mêlée, wherever -the fight was hottest. In such wise that ’tis said -she did several times accomplish such deeds of daring and -so stir the Trojan’s wonder as that he would stop short -as if astonished in the midst of the fiercest combats, and -so withdraw somewhat on one side, the better to see and -admire this most valiant Queen doing such gallant deeds.</p> - -<p>Thereafter, we leave the world to suppose what was -the issue of their love, and if they did put the same in -practise; and truly the result could not long be doubtful. -But any way, their pleasure was to be of no great duration -for the Queen, the better to delight her lover, did -so constantly rush forth to confront all hazards, that she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span> -was slain at last in one of the fiercest and fellest encounters. -Others however say she did never see Hector -at all, but that he was dead before her arrival. So coming -on the scene and learning his death, she did thereupon -fall into so great grief and such sadness to have lost -the goodly sight she had so fondly desired and had come -from so far a land to seek, that she did start forth to meet -a voluntary death in the bloodiest battles of the war; -and so she died, having no further cause to live, now she -had failed of beholding the gallant being she had chosen -as best of all and had loved the -<span class="no-wrap">most.<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></span></p> - -<p>The like was done by Thalestris, another Queen of the -Amazons, who did traverse a great country and cover I -know not how many leagues for to visit Alexander the -Great, and asking it of him as a favour, or as but a fair -exchange of courtesy, did lie with him in order that she -might have issue by him of so noble and generous a blood, -having heard him so high rated of all men. This boon -did Alexander very gladly grant her; and verily he must -needs have been sore spoiled and sick of women if he had -done otherwise, for the said Queen was as beautiful as she -was valiant. Quintus Curtius, Orosius and Justin do affirm -moreover that she did thus visit Alexander with -three hundred ladies in her suite, all bearing arms, -and all so fair apparelled and of such a beauteous -grace as that naught could surpass the same. So -attended, she did make her reverence before the King, -who did welcome her with the highest marks of honour. -And she did tarry thirteen days and thirteen nights with -him, submitting herself in all ways to his good will and -pleasure. At the same time she did frankly tell him how -that if she had a daughter by him, she would guard her as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span> -a most priceless treasure; but an if she had a son, that -she would send him back to the King, by reason of the -abhorrence she bear to the male sex, in the matter of holding -rule and exercising any command among them, in -accordance with the laws introduced in their companies -after they had slain their husbands.</p> - -<p>Herein need we have no doubt whatever but that the -rest of the ladies and attendant dames did after a like -manner, and had themselves covered by the different captains -and men of war of the said King Alexander. For -they were bound in this matter to follow their mistress’ -example.</p> - -<p>So too the fair maiden Camilla, at once beautiful and -noble-hearted, and one which did serve her mistress Diana -right faithfully in the woodlands and forests on her hunting -parties, having heard the bruit of Turnus’ valiance, -and how he had to do with another valiant warrior, to wit -Aeneas, which did press him sore, did choose her side. -Then did she seek out her favourite and join him, but -with three very honourable and fair ladies beside for her -comrades, the which she had taken for her close friends -and trusty confidantes,—and for tribads too mayhap, and -for mutual naughtiness. And so did she hold these same -in honour and use them on all occasions, as Virgil doth -describe in his <i>Æneid</i>. And they were called the one -Armia, a virgin and a valiant maid, another Tullia, and -the third Tarpeia, which was skilled to wield the pike and -dart, and that in two divers fashions, be it understood,—all -three being daughters of -<span class="no-wrap">Italy.<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3*]</a></span></p> - -<p>Thus then did Camilla arrive with her beauteous little -band (as they say “little and good”) for to seek out -Turnus, with whom she did perform sundry excellent feats<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span> -of arms; and did sally forth so oft and join battle with -the doughty Trojans that she was presently slain, to the -very sore grief of Turnus, who did regard her most -highly, as well for her beauty as for the good succour she -brought. In such wise did these fair and courageous -dames seek out brave and valiant heroes, succouring the -same in their ways and encounters.</p> - -<p>What else was it did fill the breast of poor Dido with -the flame of so ardent a love, what but the valiance she did -feel to be in her Aeneas,—if we are to credit Virgil? For -she had begged him to tell her of his wars, and the ruin -and destruction of Troy, and he had gratified her wish,—albeit -to his own great grief, to renew the memory of such -sorrows, and in his discourse had dwelt by the way on his -own valiant achievements. And Dido having well marked -all these and pondered them in her breast, and presently -declaring of her love to her sister Anna, the chiefest and -most pregnant of the words she said to her were these -and no other: “Ah! sister mine, what a guest is this which -hath come to my Court! Oh! the noble way he hath with -him, and how his very carriage doth announce him a brave -and most valiant warrior, in deed and in spirit! I do -firmly believe him to be the offspring of some race of gods; -for churlish hearts are ever cowardly of their very -nature.” Such were Dido’s words; and I think she did -come to love him so, quite as much because she was herself -brave and generous-hearted, and that her instinct -did push her to love her fellow, as to win help and service -of him in case of need. But the wretch did deceive and -desert her in pitiful wise,—an ill deed he should never -have done to so honourable a lady, which had given him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span> -her heart and her love, to him, I say, that was but a -stranger and an outlaw.</p> - -<p>Boccaccio in his book of <i>Famous Folk which have been</i> -<span class="no-wrap"><i>Unfortunate</i>,<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></span> -doth tell a tale of a certain -Duchess of Forli, named Romilda, who having lost -husband and lands and goods, all which Caucan, -King of the Avarese, had robbed her of, was -constrained to take refuge with her children in her castle -of Forli, and was therein besieged by him. But one -day when he did approach near the walls to make a -reconnaissance, Romilda who was on the top of a tower, -saw him and did long and carefully observe him. Then -seeing him so handsome, being in the flower of his age, -mounted on a fine horse and clad in a magnificent suit -of mail, and knowing how he was used to do many doughty -deeds of war, and that he did never spare himself any -more than the least of his soldiers, she did incontinently -fall deeply enamoured of the man, and quitting to mourn -for her husband and all care for her castle and the siege -thereof, did send him word by a messenger that, if he -would have her in marriage, she would yield him up the -place on the day their wedding should be celebrated.</p> - -<p>King Caucan took her at her word. Accordingly the -day agreed upon being come, lo! she doth deck herself -most stately as a duchess should in her finest and most -magnificent attire, which did make her yet fairer still to -look on, exceeding fair as she was by nature. So having -come to the King’s camp for to consummate the marriage, -this last, to the end he might not be blamed as not having -kept his word, did spend all that night in satisfying the -enamoured duchess’s desires. But the next morning, on -rising, he did have a dozen Averese soldiers of his called,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span> -such as he deemed to be the strongest and most stalwart -fellows, and gave Romilda into their hands, to take their -pleasure of her one after other. These did have her for -all a night long so oft as ever they could. But then, -when day was come again, Caucan having summoned her -before him, and after sternly upbraiding her for her wantonness -and heaping many insults upon her, did have her -impaled through her belly, of which cruel treatment she -did presently die. Truly a savage and barbarous act, so -to mishandle a fair and honourable lady, instead of displaying -gratitude, rewarding her and treating her with all -possible courtesy, for the good opinion she had showed of -his generosity, valour and noble courage, and her love for -him therefor! And of this must fair ladies sometimes have -good heed; for of these valiant men of war there be some -which have so grown accustomed to killing and slashing -and savagely plying the steel, that now and again it doth -take their humour to exercise the like barbarity on women. -Yet are not all of this complexion, but rather, when -honourable ladies do them this honour to love them and -hold their valour in high esteem, they do leave behind in -camp their fury and fierce passions, and in court and -ladies’ chambers do fit themselves to the practise of all -gentleness and kindness and fair courtesy.</p> - -<p>Bandello in his <i>Tragic</i> -<span class="no-wrap"><i>Histories</i><a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></span> -doth relate one, the -finest story I have ever read, of a certain Duchess of -Savoy, who one day coming forth from her good town of -Turin, did hear a Spanish woman, a pilgrim on her road to -Loretto to perform a vow, cry out and admire her beauty -and loudly declare, how that if only so fair and perfect a -lady were wedded to her brother, the Señor de Mendoza, -which was himself so handsome, brave and valiant, folk<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span> -might well say in all lands that now the finest and handsomest -couple in all the world were mated together. The -Duchess who did very well understand the Spanish tongue, -having graven these words in her breast and pondered -them over in her heart, did anon begin to grave love in -the same place likewise. In such wise that by this report -of his merits she did fall so passionately in love with the -Señor de Mendoza as that she did never slacken till she -had planned a pretended pilgrimage to St. James of Compostella, -for to see the man for whom she had so suddenly -been smit with love. So having journeyed to Spain, and -taken the road passing by the house of de Mendoza, she -had time and leisure to content and satisfy her eyes with -a good sight of the fair object she had chosen. For the -Señor de Mendoza’s sister, which was in the Duchess’ -train, had advised her brother of so distinguished and fair -a visitor’s coming. Wherefore he did not fail to go forth -to meet her in gallant array, and mounted on a noble -Spanish horse, and this with so fine a grace as that the -Duchess could not but be assured of the truth of the fair -report which had been given her, and did admire him -greatly, as well for his handsome person as for his noble -carriage, which did plainly manifest the valiance that was -in him. This she did esteem even more highly than all his -other merits, accomplishments and perfections, presaging -even at that date how she would one day mayhap have need -of his valour,—as truly in after times he did excellently -serve her under the false accusation which Count Pancalier -brought against her chastity. Natheless, though she did -find him brave and courageous as a man of arms, yet for -the nonce was he a recreant in love; for he did show himself -so cold and respectful toward her as to try never an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span> -assault of amorous words, the very thing she did most -desire, and for which she had undertook her journey. -Wherefore, in sore despite at so chilling a respect, or to -speak plainly such recreancy in love, she did part from -him on the morrow, not near so well content as she had -come.</p> - -<p>Thus we see how true ’tis that ladies do sometimes love -men no less which are bold in love than they which be -brave in arms,—not that they would have them brazen -and over-bold, impudent and self-satisfied, as I have known -some to be. But in this matter must they keep ever the -<i>via media</i>.</p> - -<p>I have known not a few which have lost many a good -fortune with women by reason of such over-respectfulness, -whereof I could tell some excellent stories, were I -not afeared of wandering too far from the proper subject -of my Discourse. But I hope to give them in a separate -place; so I will only tell the following one here.</p> - -<p>I have heard tell in former days of a lady, and one of the -fairest in all the world, who having in the like fashion heard -a certain Prince given out by repute for brave and valiant, -and that he had already in his young days done and -performed great exploits of war, and in especial won two -great and signal victories against his -<span class="no-wrap">foes,<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></span> -did conceive a -strong desire to see him; and to this end did make a -journey to the province wherein he was then tarrying, -under some pretext or other that I need not name. Well! -at last she did set forth; and presently,—for what is -not possible to a brave and loving heart?—she doth gain -sight of him and can contemplate him at her ease, for he -did come out a long distance to meet her, and doth now -receive her with all possible honour and respect, as was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span> -meet for so great, fair and noble-hearted a Princess. -Nay! the respect was e’en <i>too</i> great, some do say; for -the same thing happened as with the Señor de Mendoza -and the Duchess of Savoy, and such excessive respectfulness -did but engender the like despite and dissatisfaction. -At any rate she did part from him by no means so well -satisfied as she had come. It may well be he would but -have wasted his time without her yielding one whit to his -wishes; but at the least the attempt would not have been -ill, but rather becoming to a gallant man, and folk would -have esteemed him the better therefor.</p> - -<p>Why! what is the use of a bold and generous spirit, -if it show not itself in all things, as well in love as in -war? For love and arms be comrades, and do go side -by side with a single heart, as saith the Latin poet: -“Every lover is a man of war, and Cupid hath his camp -and arms no less than Mars.” Ronsard hath writ a fine -sonnet hereanent in the first book of his -<span class="no-wrap">“Amours.”<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7*]</a></span></p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">2.</p> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_h_coloured.jpg" width="70" height="70" alt="" /> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">However</span> to return to the fainness women do -display to see and love great-hearted and -valiant men,—I have heard it told of the -Queen of England, Elizabeth, the same which -is yet reigning at this hour, how that one day being at -table, entertaining at supper the Grand Prior of France, -a nobleman of the house of Lorraine, and M. d’Anville, -now M. de Montmorency and Constable of France, the -table discourse having fallen among divers other matters -on the merits of the late King Henri II. of France, she -did commend that Prince most highly, for that he was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span> -so brave, and to use her own word so <i>martial</i> a monarch, -as he had manifested plainly in all his doings. For which -cause she had resolved, an if he had not died so early, to -go visit him in his Kingdom, and had actually had her -galleys prepared and made ready for to cross over into -France, and so the twain clasp hands and pledge their -faith and peaceable intent. “In fact ’twas one of my -strongest wishes to see this hero. I scarce think he would -have refused me, for,” she did declare, “my humour is to -love men of courage. And I do sore begrudge death his -having snatched away so gallant a King, at any rate before -I had looked on his face.”</p> - -<p>This same Queen, some while after, having heard great -renown of the Duc de Nemours for the high qualities and -valour that were in him, was most eager to enquire news of -him from the late deceased M. de Rendan[8] at the time -when King Francis II did send him to Scotland to conclude -a peace under the walls of -<span class="no-wrap">Leith,<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a></span> -which was then -besieged by the English. And so soon as he had told the -Queen at length all the particulars of that nobleman’s -high and noble deeds and merits and points of gallantry, -M. de Rendan, who was no less understanding in matters -of love than of arms, did note in her and in her countenance -a certain sparkle of love or at the least liking, as -well as in her words a very strong desire to see him. -Wherefore, fain not to stay her in so excellent a path, -he did what he could to find out from her whether, if -the Duke should come to see her, he would be welcome and -well received. She did assure him this would certainly -be so, from which he did conclude they might very well -come to be wed.</p> - -<p>Presently being returned to the Court of France from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span> -off his embassy, he did report all the discourse to the -King and M. de Nemours. Whereupon the former did -command and urge M. de Nemours to agree to the thing. -This he did with very great alacrity, if he could come -into so fine a -<span class="no-wrap">Kingdom<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9*]</a></span> -by the means of so fair, so virtuous -and noble a Queen.</p> - -<p>As a result the irons were soon in the fire. With the -good means the King did put in his hands, the Duke did -presently make very great and magnificent preparations -and equipments, both of raiment, horses and arms, and -in fact of all costly and beautiful things, without omitting -aught needful (for myself did see all this) to go and appear -before this fair Princess, above all forgetting not to -carry thither with him all the flower of the young nobility -of the Court. Indeed Greffier, the Court fool, remarking -thereupon did say ’twas wondrous how all the gay <i>pease -blossom</i> of the land was going overseas, pointing by this -his jape at the wild young bloods of the French Court.</p> - -<p>Meantime M. de Lignerolles, a gentleman of much -adroitness and skill, and at that time an high favourite -with M. de Nemours, his master, was despatched to the -said fair Princess, and anon returned bearing a most -gentle answer and one very meet to content him, and -cause him to press on and further hasten his journey. -And I remember me the marriage was held at Court to -be as good as made. Yet did we observe how all of a -sudden the voyage in question was broke off short and -never made, and this in spite of a very great expenditure -thereon, now all vain and useless.</p> - -<p>Myself could say as well as any man in France what -’twas did lead to this rupture; yet will I remark thus -much only in passing:—It may well be other loves did<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span> -more move his heart, and held him more firm a captive. -For truly he was so accomplished in all ways and so skilful -in arms and all good exercises, as that ladies did vie with -each other in running after him. So I have seen some -of the most high-spirited and virtuous women which were -ready enough to break their fast of chastity for him.</p> - -<p>We have, in the <i>Cent Nouvelles</i> of Queen Marguerite of -Navarre, a very excellent tale of that lady of -<span class="no-wrap">Milan,<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10*]</a></span> -which having given assignation to the late M. de Bonnivet, since -that day Admiral of France, one night, did charge her -chamber-women to stand with drawn swords in hand and -to make a disturbance on the steps, just as he should be -ready to go to bed. This they did to great effect, following -therein their mistress’ orders, which for her part did -feign to be terrified and sore afraid, crying out ’twas her -husband’s brothers which had noted something amiss, -and that she was undone, and that he should hide under the -bed or behind the arras. But M. de Bonnivet, without the -least panic, taking his cloak round the one arm and -his sword in the other hand, said only: “Well, well! -where be they, these doughty brothers, which would -fright me or do me hurt? Soon as they shall see me, -they will not so much as dare look at the point of my -sword.” So saying, he did throw open the door and sally -forth, but as he was for charging down the steps, lo! he -did find only the women and their silly noise, which were -sore scared at sight of him and began to scream and confess -the whole truth. M. de Bonnivet, seeing what was -toward, did straight leave the jades, commending them -to the devil, and hying him back to the bedchamber, shutteth -to the door behind him. Thus did he betake him to -his lady once more, which did then fall a-laughing and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span> -a-kissing of him, confessing how ’twas naught but a trick -of her contriving, and declaring, an if he had played the -poltroon and had not shown his valiance, whereof he had -the repute, that he should never have lain with her. But -seeing he had proved him so bold and confident of heart, -she did therefore kiss him and frankly welcome him to -her bed. And all night long ’twere better not to enquire -too close what they did; for indeed she was one of the fairest -women in all Milan, and one with whom he had had -much pains to win her over.</p> - -<p>I once knew a gallant gentleman, who one day being at -Rome to bed with a pretty Roman lady, in her husband’s -absence, was alarmed in like wise; for she did cause one -of her waiting women to come in hot haste to warn him -the husband was hunting round. The lady, pretending -sore amazement, did beseech the gentleman to hide in a -closet, else she was undone. “No, no!” my friend made -answer, “I would not do that for all the world; but an if -he come, why! I will kill him.” With this he did spring -to grasp his sword; but the lady only fell a-laughing, -and did confess how she had arranged it all of set purpose -to prove him, to see what he would do, if her husband did -threat him with hurt, and whether he would make a good -defence of his mistress.</p> - -<p>I likewise knew a very fair lady, who did quit outright -a lover she had, because she deemed him a coward; and -did change him for another, which did in no way resemble -him, but was feared and dreaded exceedingly for his -powers of fence, being one of the best swordsmen to be -found in those days.</p> - -<p>I have heard a tale told at Court by the old gossips, of -a lady which was at Court, mistress of the late M. de<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span> -<span class="no-wrap">Lorge,<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a></span> -that good soldier and in his younger days one of -the bravest and most renowned captains of foot men -of his time. She having heard so much praise given to -his valour, was fain, one day that King Francis the First -was showing a fight of lions at his Court, to prove him -whether he was so brave as folk made out. Wherefore -she did drop one of her gloves in the lions’ den, whenas -they were at their fiercest; and with that did pray M. de -Lorge to go get it for her, an if his love of her were as -great as he was forever saying. He without any show -of surprise, doth take his cloak on fist and his sword in -the other hand, and so boldly forth among the lions for -to recover the glove. In this emprise was fortune so -favourable to him, that seeing he did all through show a -good front and kept the point of his sword boldly presented -to the lions, these did not dare attack him. So -after picking up the glove, he did return toward his mistress -and gave it back to her; for the which she and -all the company there present did esteem him very highly. -But ’tis said that out of sheer despite at such treatment, -M. de Lorge did quit her for ever, forasmuch as she had -thought good to make her pastime of him and his valiance -in this fashion. Nay! more, they say he did throw the -glove in her face, out of mere despite; for he had rather -an hundred times she had bid him go break up a whole -battalion of foot soldiery, a matter he was duly trained -to undertake, than thus to fight beasts, a contest where -glory is scarce to be gained. At any rate suchlike trials -of men’s courage be neither good nor honourable, and -they that do provoke the same are much to be blamed.</p> - -<p>I like as little another trick which a certain lady did -play her lover. For when he was offering her his service,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span> -assuring her there was never a thing, be it as perilous as -it might, he would not do for her, she taking him at his -word, did reply, “Well! an if you love me so much, and -be as courageous as you say, stab yourself with your -dagger in the arm for the love of me.” The other, who -was dying for love of her, did straight draw his weapon, -ready to give himself the blow. However I did hold his -arm and took the dagger from him, remonstrating and -saying he would be a great fool to go about it in any such -fashion to prove his love and courage. I will not name -the lady; but the gentleman concerned was the late deceased -M. de Clermont-Tallard the -<span class="no-wrap">elder,<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12*]</a></span> -which fell at -the battle of Montcontour, one of the bravest and most -valiant gentlemen of France, as he did show by his death, -when in command of a company of men-at-arms,—a man -I did love and honour greatly.</p> - -<p>I have heard say a like thing did once happen to the -late M. de Genlis, the same which fell in Germany, leading -the Huguenot troops in the third of our wars of Religion. -For crossing the Seine one day in front of the Louvre -with his mistress, she did let fall her handkerchief, which -was a rich and beautiful one, into the water on purpose, -and told him to leap into the river to recover the same. -He, knowing not how to swim but like a stone, was fain -to be excused; but she upbraiding him and saying he was -a recreant lover, and no brave man, without a word more -he did throw himself headlong into the stream, and thinking -to get the handkerchief, would assuredly have been -drowned, had he not been promptly rescued by a boat.</p> - -<p>Myself believe that suchlike women, by such trials, do -desire in this wise gracefully to be rid of their lovers, -which mayhap do weary them. ’Twere much better did<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span> -they give them good favours once for all and pray them, -for the love they bear them, to carry these forth to honourable -and perilous places in the wars, and so prove their -valour. Thus would they push them on to greater -prowess, rather than make them perform the follies I -have just spoke of, and of which I could recount an infinity -of instances.</p> - -<p>This doth remind me, how that, whenas we were advancing -to lay siege to Rouen in the first war of Religion, -Mademoiselle de -<span class="no-wrap">Piennes,<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13*]</a></span> -one of the honourable damsels -of the Court, being in doubt as to whether the late M. de -Gergeay was valiant enough to have killed, himself alone -and man to man, the late deceased Baron d’Ingrande, -which was one of the most valiant gentlemen of the Court, -did for to prove his valiance, give him a favour,—a scarf -which he did affix to his head harness. Then, on occasion -of the making a reconnaissance of the Fort of St. Catherine, -he did charge so boldly and valiantly on a troop of -horse which had sallied forth of the city, that bravely -fighting he did receive a pistol shot in the head, whereof -he did fall stark dead on the spot. In this wise was the -said damsel fully satisfied of his valour, and had he not -been thus killed, seeing he had fought so well, she would -have wedded him; but doubting somewhat his courage, and -deeming he had slain the aforesaid Baron unfairly, for so -she did suspect, she was fain, as she said, to make this -visible trial of him. And verily, although there be many -men naturally courageous, yet do the ladies push the -same on to greater prowess; while if they be cold and -cowardly, they do move them to some gallantry and warm -them up to some show of fight.</p> - -<p>We have an excellent example hereof in the beautiful<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span> -Agnes Sorel,[14] who seeing the King of France Charles -VII.[14] deep in love with her, and recking of naught but to -pleasure her, and slack and cowardly take no heed for his -kingdom, did say to him one day, how that when she was -a child, an astrologer had predicted she would be loved -and served of one of the most valiant and courageous -kings of Christendom. Accordingly, whenas the King -did her the honour to love her, she did think he was the -valorous monarch which had been predicted for her; but -seeing him so slack, with so little care of his proper business, -she did plainly perceive she was deceived in this, and -that the courageous King intended was not he at all, but -the King of England,[14] which did perform such fine feats -of war, and did take so many of his fairest cities from -under his very nose. “Wherefore,” she said to her lover, -“I am away to find him, for of a surety ’tis he the astrologer -did intend.” These words did so sorely prick the -King’s heart, as that he fell a-weeping; and thenceforward, -plucking up spirit and quitting his hunting and -his gardens, he did take the bit in his teeth,—and this to -such good effect that by dint of good hap and his own -valiance he did drive the English forth of his Kingdom -altogether.</p> - -<p>Bertrand du <span class="no-wrap">Guesclin<a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></span> -having wedded his wife Madame -Tiphaine, did set himself all to pleasure her and so did -neglect the management of the War, he who had been so -forward therein afore, and had won him such praise and -glory. But she did upbraid him with this remonstrance, -how that before their marriage folk did speak of naught -but him and his gallant deeds, but henceforth she might -well be reproached for the discontinuance of her husband’s -fair deeds and good repute. This she said was a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span> -very great disgrace to her and him, that he had now -grown such a stay-at-home; and did never cease her chiding, -till she had roused in him his erstwhile spirit, and -sent him back to the wars, where he did even doughtier -deeds than aforetime.</p> - -<p>Thus do we see how this honourable lady did not love -so much her night’s pleasures as she did value the honour -of her husband. And of a surety our wives themselves, -though they do find us near by their side, yet an if we be -not brave and valiant, will never really love us nor keep -us by them of good and willing heart; whereas when we -be returned from the wars and have done some fine and -noble exploit, then they do verily and indeed love us and -embrace of right good will, and themselves find the enjoyment -most precious.</p> - -<p>The fourth daughter of the Comte de -<span class="no-wrap">Provence,<a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15*]</a></span> -father-in-law -of St. Louis, and herself wife to Charles, Count of -Anjou, brother of the said King, being sore vexed, high-spirited -and ambitious Princess as she was, at being but -plain Countess of Anjou and Provence, and because she -alone of her three sisters, of whom two were Queens and -the third Empress, did bear no better title than that my -Lady and Countess, did never cease till she had prayed, -beseeched and importuned her husband to conquer and -get some Kingdom for himself. And they did contrive -so well as that they were chose of Pope Urban to be King -and Queen of the Two Sicilies; and they did away, the -twain of them, to Rome with thirty galleys to be crowned -by his Holiness, with all state and splendour, King and -Queen of Jerusalem and Naples, which dominion he did -win afterward, no less by his victorious arms than by the -aid his wife afforded him, selling all her rings and jewels<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span> -for to provide the expenses of the war. So thereafter -did they twain reign long and not unpeaceably in the -fine kingdoms they had gotten.</p> - -<p>Long years after, one of their grand-daughters, issue -of them and theirs, Ysabeau de Lorraine to -<span class="no-wrap">wit,<a id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16*]</a></span> -without help of her husband René, did carry out a like emprise. -For while her husband was prisoner in the hands of -Charles, Duke of Burgundy, she being a Princess of a -wise prudence and high heart and courage, the Kingdom -of Sicily and Naples having meantime fallen to them in -due succession, did assemble an army of thirty thousand -men. This she did lead forth in person, and so conquer -all the Kingdom and take possession of Naples.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">3.</p> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_i_coloured16.jpg" width="70" height="70" alt="" /> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">I could</span> name an host of ladies which have -in suchlike ways done great and good service -to their husbands, and how being high of -heart and ambition they have pushed on and -encouraged their mates to court fortune, and to win -goods and grandeur and much wealth. And truly ’tis -the most noble and most honourable fashion of getting -of such things, thus at the sword’s point.</p> - -<p>I have known many men in this our land of France -and at our Courts, which really more by the urging of -their wives than by any will of their own, have undertaken -and accomplished gallant exploits.</p> - -<p>Many women on the other hand have I known, which -thinking only of their own good pleasures, have stood in -their husbands’ way and kept the same ever by their side, -hindering them of doing noble deeds, unwilling to have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span> -them find amusement in aught else but in contenting them -at the game of Venus, so keen were they after this sport. -I could tell many a tale hereof, but I should be going too -far astray from my subject, which is a worthier one for -sure, seeing it doth handle virtue, than the other, which -hath to do with vice. ’Tis more pleasant by far to hear -tell of such ladies as have pushed on their men to noble -deeds. Nor do I speak solely of married women, but of -many others beside, which by dint of one little favour bestowed, -have made their lovers to do many a fine thing -they had never done else. For what a satisfaction is -theirs! what incitement and warming of heart is greater -than when at the wars a man doth think how he is well -loved of his mistress, and if only he do some fine thing -for the love of her, what kind looks and pretty ways, -what fair glances, what kissings, delights and joys, he -may hope after to receive of her?</p> - -<p>Scipio amongst other rebukes he did administer to -Massinissa, when, all but bloody yet from battle, he did -wed Sophonisba, said to him: how that ’twas ill-becoming -to think of ladies and the love of ladies, when at the wars. -He must pardon me here, an if he will; but for my own -part, I ween there is no such great contentment, nor one -that giveth more courage and emulation to do nobly than -they. I have travelled in that country myself in old -days. And not only I, but all such, I do firmly believe, as -take the field and fight, do find the same; and to them I -make appeal. I am sure they be all of my opinion, be -they who they may, and that whenas they are embarked -on some good warlike emprise, and presently find themselves -in the heat of battle and press of the foe, their heart -doth swell within them as they think on their ladies, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span> -favours they do carry of them, and the caresses and gentle -welcome they will receive of the same after the war is -done, if they but escape,—and if they come to die, the -sore grief they will feel for love of them and thought of -their end. In a word, for the love of their ladies and -fond thoughts of them, all emprises be facile and easy, -the sternest fights be but merry tourneys to them, and -death itself a triumph.</p> - -<p>I do remember me how at the battle of Dreux the late -M. des <span class="no-wrap">Bordes,<a id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17*]</a></span> -a brave and gentle knight if ever there was -one in his day, being Lieutenant under M. de Nevers, -known at the first as the Comte d’Eu, a most excellent -Prince and soldier, when he had to charge to break up a -battalion of foot which was marching straight on the -advanced guard where was the late M. de Guise the Great, -and the signal to charge was given, the said Des Bordes, -mounted on a grey barb, doth start forward instantly, -adorned and garnished with a very fine favour his mistress -had given him (I will not name her, but she was one -of the fair and honourable damsels and great ladies of -the Court), and as he gave rein, he did cry: “Ha! I am -away to fight valiantly for the love of my mistress, or to -die for her!” And this boast he failed not to fulfil; for -after piercing the six first ranks, he fell at the seventh, -borne down to earth. Now tell me if this lady had not -well used her favour, and if she had aught to reproach -her with for having bestowed it on him!</p> - -<p>M. de Bussi again was a young soldier which did as -great honour to his mistresses’ favours as any man of his -time, yea! and the favours of some I know of, which did -merit more stricken fields and deeds of daring and good -sword thrusts than did ever the fair Angelica of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span> -Paladins and Knights of yore, whether Christian or Saracen. -Yet have I heard him often declare that in all the -single combats and wars and general rencounters (for he -hath fought in many such) where he hath ever been engaged, -’twas not so much for the service of his Prince -nor yet for love of success as for the sole honour and -glory of contenting his lady love. He was surely right -in this, for verily all the success in the world and all its -ambitions be little worth in comparison of the love and -kindness of a fair and honourable lady and mistress.</p> - -<p>And why else have so many brave Knights errant of the -Round Table and so many valorous Paladins of France -in olden time undertaken so many wars and far journeyings, -and gone forth on such gallant emprises, if not -for the love of the fair ladies they did serve or were fain -to serve? I do appeal to our Paladins of France, our -Rolands, Renauds, Ogiers, our Olivers, Yvons and Richards, -and an host of others. And truly ’twas a good -time and a lucky; for if they did accomplish some gallant -deed for love of their ladies, these same fair ladies, in -no wise ingrate, knew well how to reward them, whenas -they hied them back to meet them, or mayhap would give -them tryst there, in the forests and woodlands, or near -some fair fountain or amid the green meadows. And is -not this the guerdon of his doughtiness a soldier most -doth crave of his lady love?</p> - -<p>Well! it yet remains to ask, why women do so love -these men of valiance? First, as I did say at the beginning, -valour hath in it a certain force and overmastering -power to make itself loved of its opposite. Then beside, -there is a kind of natural inclination doth exist, -constraining women to love great-heartedness, which to be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span> -sure is an hundred times more lovable than cowardice,—even -as virtue is alway more to be desired than vice.</p> - -<p>Some ladies there be which do love men thus gifted with -valour, because they imagine that just as they be brave -and expert at arms and in the trade of War, they must -be the same at that of Love.</p> - -<p>And this rule doth hold really good with some. ’Twas -fulfilled for instance by Cæsar, that champion of the -world, and many another gallant soldier I have known, -though I name no names. And such lovers do possess -a very different sort of vigour and charm from rustics -and folk of any other profession but that of arms, so -much so that one push of these same gallants is worth -four of ordinary folk. When I say this, I do mean in -the eyes of women moderately lustful, not of such as be -inordinately so, for the mere number is what pleaseth -this latter sort. But if this rule doth hold good sometimes -in some of these warlike fellows, and according to -the humour of some women, it doth fail in others; for -some of these valiant soldiers there be so broken down -by the burden of their harness and the heavy tasks of -war, that they have no strength left when they have to -come to this gentle game of love, in such wise that they -cannot content their ladies,—of whom some (and many -are of such complexion), had liever have one good workman -at Venus’ trade, fresh and ground to a good point, -than four of these sons of Mars, thus broken-winged.</p> - -<p>I have known many of the sex of this sort and this -humour; for after all, they say, the great thing is to pass -one’s time merrily, and get the quintessence of enjoyment -out of it, without any special choice of persons. A good -man of war is good, and a fine sight on the field of battle;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span> -but an if he can do naught a-bed, they declare, a good -stout lackey, in good case and practice, is every whit as -worth having as a handsome and valiant gentleman,—tired -out.</p> - -<p>I do refer me to such dames as have made trial thereof, -and do so every day; for the gallant soldier’s loins, be he -as brave and valiant as he may, being broken and chafed -of the harness they have so long carried on them, cannot -afford the needful supply, as other men do, which have -never borne hardship or fatigue.</p> - -<p>Other ladies there be which do love brave men, whether -it be for husbands or for lovers, to the end these may -show good fight and so better defend their honour and -chastity, if any detractors should be fain to befoul these -with ill words. Several such I have seen at Court, where -I knew in former days a very great and a very fair lady[18] -whose name I had rather not give, who being much subject -to evil tongues, did quit a lover, and a very favourite -one, she had, seeing him backward to come to blows -and pick a quarrel and fight it out, to take -<span class="no-wrap">another<a id="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a></span> -instead which was a mettlesome wight, a brave and valiant -soul, which would gallantly bear his lady’s honour on the -point of his sword, without ever a man daring to touch -the same in any wise.</p> - -<p>Many ladies have I known in my time of this humour, -wishful always to have a brave gallant for their escort and -defence. This no doubt is a good and very useful thing -oftentimes for them; but then they must take good heed -not to stumble or let their heart change toward them, once -they have submitted to their domination. For if these -fellows do note the least in the world of their pranks and -fickle changes, they do lead them a fine life and rebuke<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span> -them in terrible wise, both them and their new gallants, -if ever they change. Of this I have seen not a few examples -in the course of my life.</p> - -<p>Thus do we see how suchlike women, those that will fain -have at command suchlike brave and mettlesome lovers, -must needs themselves be brave and very faithful in their -dealings with the same, or at any rate so secret in their -intrigues as that they may never be discovered. Unless -indeed they do compass the thing by some arrangement, -as do the Italian and Roman courtesans, who are fain -ever to have a <i>bravo</i> (this is the name they give him) to -defend and keep them in countenance; but ’tis always part -of the bargain that they shall have other favoured swains -as well, and the bravo shall never say one word.</p> - -<p>This is mighty well for the courtesans of Rome and -their bravos, but not for the gallant gentlemen of France -and other lands. But an if an honourable dame is ready -to keep herself in all firmness and constancy, her lover is -bound to spare his life in no way for to maintain and -defend her honour, if she do run the very smallest risk -of hurt, whether to her life or her reputation, or of some -ill word of scandal. So have I seen at our own Court -several which have made evil tattlers to hold their tongues -at a moment’s notice, when these had started some detraction -of their ladies or mistresses. For by devoir of -knighthood and its laws we be bound to serve as their -champions in any trouble, as did the brave Renaud for the -fair Ginevra in <span class="no-wrap">Scotland,<a id="FNanchor_19" href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></span> -the Señor de Mendoza for the -beautiful Duchess I have spoke of above, and the Seigneur -de Carouge for his own wedded wife in the days of King -Charles VI., as we do read in our Chronicles. I could -quote an host of other instances, as well of old as of modern<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span> -times, to say naught of those I have witnessed at our -own Court; but I should never have done.</p> - -<p>Other ladies I have known which have quitted cowardly -fellows, albeit these were very rich, to love and wed gentlemen -that did possess naught at all but sword and cloak, -so to say. But then they were valorous and great-hearted, -and had hopes, by dint of their valiance and -bravery, to attain to rank and high estate. Though truly -’tis not the bravest that do most oft win these prizes; -but they do rather suffer sore wrong, while many a time -we behold the cowardly and fainthearted succeed instead. -Yet be this as it may, such fortune doth never become -these so well as it doth the men of valour.</p> - -<p>But there, I should never get me done, were I to recount -at length the divers causes and reasons why women do so -love men of high heart and courage. I am quite sure, -were I set on amplifying this Discourse with all the host -of reasons and examples I might, I could make a whole -book of it alone. However, as I wish not to tarry over -one subject only, so much as to deal with various and -divers matters, I will be satisfied to have said what I -have said,—albeit sundry will likely blame me, how that -such and such a point was surely worthy of being enriched -by more instances and a string of prolix reasons, -which themselves could very well supply, exclaiming, -“Why! he hath clean forgot this; he hath clean forgot -that.” I know my subject well enough for all that; and -mayhap I know more instances than ever they could adduce, -and more startling and private. But I prefer not -to divulge them all, and not to give the names.</p> - -<p>This is why I do hold my tongue. Yet, before making -an end, I will add this further word by the way. Just<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span> -as ladies do love men which be valiant and bold under -arms, so likewise do they love such as be of like sort in -love; and the man which is cowardly and over and above -respectful toward them, will never win their good favour. -Not that they would have them so overweening, bold and -presumptuous, as that they should by main force lay -them on the floor; but rather they desire in them a certain -hardy modesty, or perhaps better a certain modest -hardihood. For while themselves are not exactly wantons, -and will neither solicit a man nor yet actually offer their -favours, yet do they know well how to rouse the appetites -and passions, and prettily allure to the skirmish in such -wise that he which doth not take occasion by the forelock -and join encounter, and that without the least awe of -rank and greatness, without a scruple of conscience or -a fear or any sort of hesitation, he verily is a fool and -a spiritless poltroon, and one which doth merit to be forever -abandoned of kind <span class="no-wrap">fortune.<a id="FNanchor_20" href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">[20*]</a></span></p> - -<p>I have heard of two honourable gentlemen and comrades, -for the which two very honourable ladies, and of by -no means humble quality, made tryst one day at Paris -to go walking in a garden. Being come thither, each -lady did separate apart one from the other, each alone -with her own cavalier, each in a several alley of the garden, -that was so close covered in with a fair trellis of -boughs as that daylight could really scarce penetrate -there at all, and the coolness of the place was very grateful. -Now one of the twain was a bold man, and well -knowing how the party had been made for something else -than merely to walk and take the air, and judging by -his lady’s face, which he saw to be all a-fire, that she had -longings to taste other fare than the muscatels that hung<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span> -on the trellis, as also by her hot, wanton and wild speech, -he did promptly seize on so fair an opportunity. So -catching hold of her without the least ceremony, he did -lay her on a little couch that was there made of turf and -clods of earth, and did very pleasantly work his will of -her, without her ever uttering a word but only: “Heavens! -Sir, what are you at? Surely you be the maddest -and strangest fellow ever was! If anyone comes, whatever -will they say? Great heavens! get out!” But the -gentleman, without disturbing himself, did so well continue -what he had begun that he did finish, and she to boot, with -such content as that after taking three or four turns up -and down the alley, they did presently start afresh. -Anon, coming forth into another, open, alley, they did -see in another part of the garden the other pair, who -were walking about together just as they had left them -at first. Whereupon the lady, well content, did say to -the gentleman in the like condition, “I verily believe so -and so hath played the silly prude, and hath given his -lady no other entertainment but only words, fine speeches -and promenading.”</p> - -<p>Afterward when all four were come together, the two -ladies did fall to asking one another how it had fared with -each. Then the one which was well content did reply -she was exceeding well, indeed she was; indeed for the -nonce she could scarce be better. The other, which was -ill content, did declare for her part she had had to do -with the biggest fool and most coward lover she had ever -seen; and all the time the two gentlemen could see them -laughing together as they walked and crying out: “Oh! -the silly fool! the shamefaced poltroon and coward!” At -this the successful gallant said to his companion: “Hark<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span> -to our ladies, which do cry out at you, and mock you sore. -You will find you have overplayed the prude and coxcomb -this bout.” So much he did allow; but there was no more -time to remedy his error, for opportunity gave him no -other handle to seize her by. Natheless, now recognizing -his mistake, after some while he did repair the same by -certain other means which I could tell, an if I would.</p> - -<p>Again I knew once two great Lords, brothers, both of -them highly bred and highly accomplished -<span class="no-wrap">gentlemen<a id="FNanchor_21" href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a></span> -which did love two ladies, but the one of these was of much -higher quality and more account than the other in all -respects. Now being entered both into the chamber of -this great lady, who for the time being was keeping her -bed, each did withdraw apart for to entertain his mistress. -The one did converse with the high-born dame -with every possible respect and humble salutation and -kissing of hands, with words of honour and stately compliment, -without making ever an attempt to come near -and try to force the place. The other brother, without -any ceremony of words or fine phrases, did take his fair -one to a recessed window, and incontinently making free -with her (for he was very strong), he did soon show her -’twas not his way to love <i>à l’espagnole</i>, with eyes and -tricks of face and words, but in the genuine fashion and -proper mode every true lover should desire. Presently -having finished his task, he doth quit the chamber; but as -he goes, saith to his brother, loud enough for his lady -to hear the words: “Do you as I have done, brother -mine; else you do naught at all. Be you as brave and -hardy as you will elsewhere, yet if you show not your -hardihood here and now, you are disgraced; for here is -no place of ceremony and respect, but one where you do<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span> -see your lady before you, which doth but wait your attack.” -So with this he did leave his brother, which yet -for that while did refrain him and put it off to another -time. But for this the lady did by no means esteem him -more highly, whether it was she did put it down to an -over chilliness in love, or a lack of courage, or a defect of -bodily vigour. And still he had shown prowess enough -elsewhere, both in war and love.</p> - -<p>The late deceased Queen Mother did one day cause to -be played, for a Shrove Tuesday interlude, at Paris at the -Hôtel de Reims, a very excellent Comedy which Cornelio -Fiasco, Captain of the Royal Galleys, had devised. All -the Court was present, both men and ladies, and many -folk beside of the city. Amongst other matters, was -shown a young man which had laid hid a whole night -long in a very fair lady’s bedchamber, yet had never laid -finger on her. Telling this hap to his friend, the latter -asketh him: <i>Ch’avete fatto?</i> (What did you do?), to which -the other maketh answer: <i>Niente</i> (Nothing). On hearing -this, his friend doth exclaim: <i>Ah! poltronazzo, senza -cuore! non havete fatto niente! che maldita sia la tua poltronneria!</i>—“Oh! -poltroon and spiritless! you did nothing! -a curse on your poltroonery then!”</p> - -<p>The same evening after the playing of this Comedy, as -we were assembled in the Queen’s chamber, and were discoursing -of the said play, I did ask a very fair and honourable -lady, whose name I will not give, what were the -finest points she had noted and observed in the Comedy, -and which had most pleased her. She told me quite -simply and frankly: The best point I noted was when -his friend did make answer to the young man called Lucio, -who had told him <i>che non haveva fatto niente</i> (that he had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span> -done nothing) in this wise, <i>Ah poltronazzo! non havete -fatto niente! che maldita sia la tua poltronneria!</i>—“Oh! -you poltroon! you did nothing! a curse be on your poltroonery!”</p> - -<p>So you see how this fair lady which did talk with me -was in agreement with the friend in reprobating his poltroonery, -and that she did in no wise approve of him for -having been so slack and unenterprising. Thereafter she -and I did more openly discourse together of the mistakes -men make by not seizing opportunity and taking advantage -of the wind when it bloweth fair, as doth the good -mariner.</p> - -<p>This bringeth me to yet another tale, which I am fain, -diverting and droll as it is, to mingle among the more -serious ones. Well, then! I have heard it told by an -honourable gentleman and a good friend of mine own, -how a lady of his native place, having often shown great -familiarities and special favour to one of her chamber -lackeys, which did only need time and opportunity to come -to a point, the said lackey, neither a prude nor a fool, -finding his mistress one morning half asleep and lying on -her bed, turned over away from the wall, tempted by such -a display of beauty and a posture making it so easy and -convenient, she being at the very edge of the bed, he did -come up softly, and alongside the lady. She turning her -head saw ’twas her lackey, which she was fain of; and just -as she was, her place occupied and all, without withdrawing -or moving one whit, and neither resisting nor trying in -the very least to shake off the hold he had of her, did only -say to him, turning round her head only and holding still -for fear of losing him, “Ho! ho! Mister prude, and what -hath made you so bold as to do this?” The lackey did<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span> -answer with all proper respect, “Madam, shall I leave?”—“That’s -not what I said, Mister prude,” the lady replied, -“I ask you, what made you so bold as to put yourself -there?” But the other did ever come back to the same -question, “Madam, shall I stop? if you wish, I will go -out,”—and she to repeating again and again, “That is -not what I say, not what I say, Mister prude!” In fact, -the pair of them did make these same replies and repetitions -three or four times over,—which did please the lady -far better than if she had ordered her gallant to stop, -when he did ask her. Thus it did serve her well to stick -to her first question without ever a variation, and the -lover in his reply and the repetition thereof. And in this -wise did they continue to lie together for long after, the -same rubric being always repeated as an accompaniment. -For ’tis, as men say, the first batch only, and the first -measure of wine, that costs dear.</p> - -<p>A good lackey and an enterprising! To such bold -fellows we must needs say in the words of the Italian -proverb, <i>A bravo cazzo mai non manca favor</i>.</p> - -<p>Well, from all this you learn how that there be many -men which are brave, bold and valiant, as well in arms as -in love; others which be so in arms, but not in love; others -again, which be so in love and not in arms. Of this last -sort was that rascally Paris, who indeed had hardihood -and valiance enough to carry off Helen from her poor -cuckold of a husband Menelaus, but not to do battle with -him before Troy town.</p> - -<p>Moreover this is why the ladies love not old men, nor -such as be too far advanced in years, seeing such be very -timid in love and shamefaced at asking favours. This is -not because they have not concupiscence and desires as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span> -great as young men, or even greater, but because they -have not the powers to match. And this is what a Spanish -lady meant, which said once: how that old men did -much resemble persons who, whenas they do behold kings -in their magnificence, domination and authority, do covet -exceedingly to be like them, yet would they never dare -to make any attempt against them to dispossess them of -their kingdoms and seize their place. She was used further -to say, <i>Y a penas es nacido el deseo, cuando se muere -luego</i>,—“Scarce is the desire born, but it dies straightway.” -Thus old men, when they do see fair objects of -attack, dare not take action, <i>porque los viejos naturalmente -son temerosos; y amor y temor no se caben en un -saco</i>,—“for that old men are naturally timid; and love -and fear do never go well in one pack.” And indeed they -are quite right; for they have arms neither for offence nor -defence, like young folks, which have youth and beauty -on their side. So verily, as saith the poet: naught is -unbecoming to youth, do what it will; and as another -hath it: two sorry sights,—an old man-at-arms and an -old lover.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">4.</p> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_w_coloured.jpg" width="70" height="70" alt="" /> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Well</span>! enough hath been said on this subject; so -I do here make an end and speak no more -thereof. Only will I add somewhat on another -point, one that is appertinent and belonging -as it were to this, to wit: how just as fair ladies -do love brave men, and such as be valorous and great-hearted, -in like wise do men love women brave of heart -and noble-spirited. And as noble-spirited and courageous -men be ever more lovable and admirable than others,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span> -so is the like true of illustrious, noble-hearted and -courageous dames,—not that I would have these perform -the deeds of men, nor yet arm and accoutre them like a -man,—as I have seen and known, as well as heard tell -of, some which would mount a-horse-back like a man, -carry their pistol at saddle-bow, shoot off the same, and -generally fight like a man.</p> - -<p>I could name one famous instance at any rate of a lady -which did all this during the recent Wars of the -<span class="no-wrap">League.<a id="FNanchor_22" href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">[22*]</a></span> -But truly suchlike disguisement is an outrage to the sex. -Besides its being neither becoming nor suitable, ’tis not -lawful, and doth bring more harm and ill repute than -many do suppose. Thus it did work great hurt to the -gentle Maid of Orleans, who at her trial was sore calumniated -on this very account, and this was in part cause of -her sore and piteous downfall and death. Wherefore such -masqueradings do like me not, nor stir me to any great -admiration. Yet do I approve and much esteem a fair -dame which doth make manifest her courageous and -valiant spirit, being in adversity and downright need, by -brave, womanly acts that do show a man’s heart and courage. -Without borrowing examples from the noble-hearted -dames of Rome and of Sparta of yore, the which -have excelled herein all other women in the world, there -be others plain enough to be seen before our very eyes; -and I do choose rather to adduce such modern instances -belonging to our own day.</p> - -<p>The first example I shall give, and in my eyes the finest -I know of is that of those fair, honourable and doughty -dames of Sienna, at the time of the revolt of their city -against the intolerable yoke of the Imperialists (Ghibellines). -For after the dispositions had been fixed for the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span> -defence, the women of the city, being set aside therein as -not apt for war like the men, were fain to make a display -of their mettle, and show how that they could do something -else than only ply their female tasks of day and -night. So, to bear their part of the work of defence, -they did divide them into three bands or companies; and -one St. Anthony’s day, in the month of January, they -did appear in public led by three of the fairest ladies, and -the greatest and best born, of all the city, in the Great -Square of that town (and it is a very noble one), with -their drums and ensigns.</p> - -<p>The first was the Signora Forteguerra, clad in violet, -her ensign of the same colour and all her company in like -array, her banner bearing this device: <i>Pur che sia il vero</i> -(Let the truth prevail). Now all these ladies were dressed -in the guise of nymphs, with short skirts which did best -discover and display the fine leg beneath. The second -was the Signora Piccolomini, clad in scarlet, and her company -and ensign the same, with a white cross and this device: -<i>Pur che no l’habbia tutto</i> (Let him not have it all). -The third was the Signora Livia Fausta, clad all in white, -and her company in white and a white ensign, whereon -was a palm, and for device: <i>Pur che l’habbia</i> (Let him -have it, then!).</p> - -<p>Round about and in the train of these three, which did -seem very goddesses, were a good three thousand other -women, both gentlewomen, citizens’ wives and others, all -fair to look upon, and all duly clad in their proper dress -and livery, whether of satin, taffety, damask, or other -silken stuff, and each and all firm resolved to live or die -for freedom. Moreover each did carry a fascine on her -shoulder for a fort which was a-building, while all cried<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span> -out together, <i>France, France!</i> With this spectacle, so -rare and delightsome an one, the Cardinal of Ferrara and -M. de Termes, the French King’s Lieutenants, were so -ravished, as that they did find no other pleasure but only -in watching, admiring and commending these same fair -and honourable ladies. And of a truth I have heard -many say, both men and women, which were there present, -that never was seen so fine a sight. And God knoweth, -beautiful women be not lacking in this city of Sienna, -and that in abundance, and without picking and choosing.</p> - -<p>The men of the city, which of their own wishes were -greatly set on winning their freedom, were yet more encouraged -to the same by this noble display, unwilling to -fall below the women in zeal. In such wise that all did -vie with one another, Lords, gentlemen, citizens, trades-folk, -artizans, rich and poor alike, and all did flock to -the fort to imitate the example of these fair, virtuous -and honourable dames. So all in much emulation,—and -not laymen alone, but churchmen to boot,—did join in -pushing on the good work. Then, on returning back -from the fort, the men on one side, and the women likewise -ranged in battle array in the great square before -the Palace of the <span class="no-wrap">Signoria,<a id="FNanchor_23" href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">[23*]</a></span> -they did advance one after -other, and company after company, to salute the image of -the Blessed Virgin, patroness of the city, singing the while -sundry hymns and canticles in her honour, to airs so soft -and with so gracious an harmony that, part of pleasure, -part of pity, tears ’gan fall from the eyes of all the people -present. These after receiving the benediction of the -most reverend Cardinal of Ferrara, did withdraw, each -to their own abode,—all the whole folk, men and women<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span> -alike, with fixed resolve to do their duty yet better for -the future.</p> - -<p>This sacred ceremony of these ladies doth remind me -(but without making comparison ’twixt the two) of a -heathen one, yet goodly withal, which was performed at -Rome at the period of the Punic Wars, as we do read in -the Historian <span class="no-wrap">Livy.<a id="FNanchor_24" href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">[24*]</a></span> -’Twas a solemn progress and procession -made by three times nine, which is twenty-seven, -young and pretty Roman maids, all of them virgins, clad -in longish frocks, of which history doth not however tell -us the colours. These dainty maids, their solemn march -and procession completed, did then make halt at a certain -spot, where they proceeded to dance a measure before the -assembled people, passing from hand to hand a cord or -ribband, ranged all in order one after other, and stepping -a round, accommodating the motion and twinkling of their -feet to the cadence of the tune and the song they sang -the while. It was a right pretty sight to see, no less -for the beauty of the maids than for their sweet grace, -their dainty way of dancing and the adroit tripping of -their feet, the which is one of the chiefest charms of a -maid, when she is skilled to move and guide the same -daintily and well.</p> - -<p>I have oft pictured to myself the measure they did so -dance; and it hath brought to my mind one I have seen -performed in my young days by the girls of mine own -countryside, called the “garter.” In this, the village -girls, giving and taking the garter from hand to hand, -would pass and re-pass these above their heads, then entangle -and interlace the same between their legs, leaping -nimbly over them, then unwinding them and slipping free -with little, dainty bounds,—all this while keeping rank<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span> -one after other, without once losing cadence with the song -or instrument of music which led the measure, in such -wise that the thing was a mighty pretty thing to see. For -the little leaps and bounds they gave, the interlacing and -slipping free again, the wielding of the garter and the -graceful carriage of the girls, did all provoke so dainty -a smack of naughtiness, as that I do marvel much the -said dance hath never been practised at Court in these -days of ours. Pleasant ’tis to see the dainty drawers, -and the fine leg freely exhibited in this dance, and which -lass hath the best fitting shoe and the most alluring mien. -But truly it can be better appreciated by the eye than -described in words.</p> - -<p>But to return to our ladies of Sienna. Ah! fair and -valiant dames, you should surely never die,—you nor your -glory, which will be for ever immortal. So too another -fair and gentle maid of your city, who during its siege, -seeing one night her brother kept a prisoner by sickness -in his bed and in very ill case to go on guard, doth leave -him there a-bed and slipping quietly away from his side, -doth take his arms and accoutrements, and so, a very -perfect likeness of her brother, maketh appearance with -the watch. Nor was she discovered, but by favour of -the night was really taken for him she did represent. A -gentle act, in truth! for albeit she had donned a man’s -dress and arms, yet was it not to make a constant habit -thereof, but for the nonce only to do a good office for her -brother. And indeed ’tis said no love is like that of -brother and sister, and further that in a good cause no -risk should be spared to show a gentle intrepidity of heart, -in whatsoever place it be.</p> - -<p>I ween the corporal of the guard which was then in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span> -command of the squad in which was this fair girl, when -he wist of her act, was sore vexed he had not better recognized -her, so to have published abroad her merit on the -spot, or mayhap to have relieved her of standing sentry, -or else merely to have taken his pleasure in gazing on her -beauty and grace, and her military bearing; for no doubt -at all she did study in all things to counterfeit a soldier’s -mien.</p> - -<p>Of a surety so fine a deed could scarce be overpraised, -and above all when the occasion was so excellent, and the -thing carried out for a brother’s sake. The like was done -by the gentle Richardet, in the Romance, but for different -purpose, when after hearing one evening his sister -Bramante discourse of the beauties of the fair Princess -of Spain, and of her own love and vain desires after her, -he did take her accoutrements and fine frock, after she -was to bed, and so disguiseth himself in the likeness of his -sister,—the which he could readily accomplish, so like -they were in face and beauty. Then presently, under this -feigned form he did win from the said lovely Princess what -was denied his sister by reason of her sex. Whereof, however, -great hurt had come to him, but for the favour of -Roger, who taking him for his mistress Bramante, did -save him scatheless of <span class="no-wrap">death.<a id="FNanchor_25" href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a></span></p> - -<p>Now as to the ladies of Sienna, I have heard it of M. de -La Chapelle des Ursins, which was at that time in Italy, -and did make report of this their gallant exploit to our -late King Henri II. of France, how that this monarch -did find the same so noble, that with tears in his eyes he -took an oath, an if one day God should grant him peace -or truce with the Emperor, he would hie him with his -galleys across the Tuscan sea, and so to Sienna, to see<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span> -this city so well affected to him and his party, and thank -the citizens for their good will and gallantry, and above -all to behold these fair and honourable ladies and give -them especial thanks.</p> - -<p>I am sure he would not have failed so to do, for he did -highly honour the said good and noble dames. Accordingly -he did write them, addressing chiefly the three chief -leaders, letters the most gracious possible, full of thanks -and compliments, the which did pleasure them greatly -and animate their courage to yet an higher pitch.</p> - -<p>Alas! the truce came right enough some while after; -but meantime the city had been taken, as I have described -elsewhere. Truly ’twas an irreparable loss to France to -be deprived of so noble and affectionate an ally, which -mindful and conscious of the ties of its ancient origin, -was always fain to join us and take place in our ranks. -For they say these gallant Siennese be sprung from that -people of France which in Gaul they did call the Senones -in old times, now known as the folk of Sens. Moreover -they do retain to this day somewhat of the humour of us -Frenchmen; they do very much wear their heart on their -sleeve, as the saying is, and be quick, sudden and keen -like us. The Siennese ladies likewise have much of those -pretty ways and charming manners and graceful familiarities -which be the especial mark of Frenchwomen.</p> - -<p>I have read in an old Chronicle, which I have cited -elsewhere, how King Charles VIII., on his Naples journey, -when he did come to Sienna, was there welcomed with -so magnificent and so triumphal an entry, as that it did -surpass all the others he received in all Italy. They did -even go so far by way of showing greater respect and as -a sign of humbleness, as to take all the city gates from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span> -off their hinges and lay the same flat on the ground; -and so long as he did tarry there, the gates were thus left -open and unguarded to all that came and went, then -after, on his departure, set up again as before.</p> - -<p>I leave you to imagine if the King, and all his Court -and army, had not ample and sufficient cause to love and -honour this city (as indeed he did always), and to say all -possible good thereof. In fact their stay there was exceeding -agreeable to him and to all, and ’twas forbid -under penalty of death to offer any sort of insult, as -truly not the very smallest did ever occur. Ah! gallant -folk of Sienna, may ye live for ever! Would to heaven -ye were still ours in all else, as it may well be, ye are yet -in heart and soul! For the overrule of a King of France -is far gentler than that of a Duke of Florence; and besides -this, the kinship of blood can never go for naught. -If only we were as near neighbours as we be actually -remote from each other, we might very like be found at -one in will and deed.</p> - -<p>In like wise the chiefest ladies of Pavia, at the siege -of that town by King Francis I. of France, following the -lead and example of the noble Countess Hippolita de -Malespina, their generalissima, did set them to carrying -of the earth-baskets, shifting soil and repairing the -breaches in their walls, vying with the soldiery in their -activity.</p> - -<p>Conduct like that of the Siennese dames I have just -told of, myself did behold on the part of certain ladies -of <span class="no-wrap">La Rochelle,<a id="FNanchor_26" href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a></span> -at the siege of their town. And I remember -me how on the first Sunday of Lent during the -siege, the King’s brother, our General, did summon M. de -la Noue to come before him on his parole, and speak with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span> -him and give account of the negotiations he had charged -him withal on behalf of the said city,—all the tale whereof -is long and most curious, as I do hope elsewhere to describe -the same. M. de la Noue failed not to appear, to which -end M. d’Estrozze was given as an hostage on the town, -and truce was made for that day and for the next -<span class="no-wrap">following.<a id="FNanchor_27" href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">[27*]</a></span></p> - -<p>This truce once concluded, there did appear immediately, -as on our side we too did show us outside our -trenches, many of the towns-folk on the ramparts and -walls. And notable over all were seen an hundred or so -of noble ladies and citizens’ wives and daughters, the -greatest, richest and fairest of all the town, all clad in -white, the dress, which did cover head as well as body, -being all of fine white Holland linen, that ’twas a very -fair sight to see. And they had adopted this dress by -reason of the fortification of the ramparts at which they -were at work, whether carrying of the earth-baskets or -moving the soil. Now other garments would have soon -grown foul, but these white ones had but to be sent to the -wash, and all was well again; beside, with this white costume -were they more readily distinguished among the -rest. For our part we were much delighted to behold these -fair ladies, and I do assure you many of us did find more -divertisement herein than in aught else. Nor were they -the least chary of giving us a sight of them, for they did -line the edge of the rampart, standing in a most gracious -and agreeable attitude, so as they were well worth our -looking at and longing after.</p> - -<p>We were right curious to learn what ladies they were. -The towns-folk did inform us they were a company of -ladies so sworn and banded together, and so attired for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span> -the work at the fortifications and for the performing -of suchlike services to their native city. And of a truth -did they do good service, even to the more virile and stalwart -of them bearing arms. Yea! I have heard it told -of one, how, for having oft repulsed her foes with a pike, -she doth to this day keep the same carefully as ’twere a -sacred relic, so that she would not part with it nor sell -it for much money, so dear a home treasure doth she -hold it.</p> - -<p>I have heard the tale told by sundry old Knights Commanders -of Rhodes, and have even read the same in an -old book, how that, when Rhodes was besieged by Sultan -Soliman, the fair dames and damsels of that place did in -no wise spare their fair faces and tender and delicate -bodies, for to bear their full share of the hardships and -fatigues of the siege, but would even come forward many -a time at the most hot and dangerous attacks, and gallantly -second the knights and soldiery to bear up against -the same. Ah! fair Rhodian maids, your name and fame -is for all time; and ill did you deserve to be now fallen -under the rule of infidel <span class="no-wrap">barbarians!<a id="FNanchor_28" href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">[28*]</a></span> -In the reign of our -good King Francis I., the town of Saint-Riquier in -Picardy was attempted and assailed by a Flemish gentleman, -named Domrin, Ensign of M. du Ru, accompanied -by two hundred men at arms and two thousand foot folk, -beside some artillery. Inside the place were but an hundred -foot men, the which was far too few for defence. -It had for sure been captured, but that the women of the -town did appear on the walls with arms in hand, boiling -water and oil and stones, and did gallantly repulse the -foe, albeit these did exert every effort to gain an entry. -Furthermore two of the said brave ladies did wrest a pair<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span> -of standards from the hands of the enemy, and bore them -from the walls into the town, the end of all being that the -besiegers were constrained to abandon the breach they -had made and the walls altogether, and make off and retire. -The fame of this exploit did spread through all -France, Flanders and Burgundy; while King Francis, -passing by the place some time after, was fain to see the -women concerned, and did praise and thank them for -their deed.</p> - -<p>The ladies of Péronne[29] did in like gallant wise, when -that town was besieged by the Comte de Nassau, and did -aid the brave soldiers which were in the place in the same -fashion as their sisters of Saint-Riquier, for which they -were esteemed, commended and thanked of their sovereign.</p> - -<p>The women of Sancerre[29] again, in the late civil wars -and during the siege of their town, were admired and -praised for the noble deeds they did at that time in all -sorts.</p> - -<p>Also, during the War of the League, the dames of -<span class="no-wrap">Vitré<a id="FNanchor_29" href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a></span> -did acquit them right well in similar wise at the -besieging of the town by M. de Mercueur. The women -there be very fair and always right daintily put on, and -have ever been so from old time; yet did they not spare -their beauty for to show themselves manlike and -courageous. And surely all manly and brave-hearted -deeds, at such a time of need, are as highly to be esteemed -in women as in men.</p> - -<p>Of the same gallant sort were of yore the women of -Carthage, who whenas they beheld their husbands, brothers, -kinsfolk and the soldiery generally cease shooting at -the foe, for lack of strings to their bows, these being all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span> -worn out by dint of shooting all through the long and -terrible siege, and for the same cause no longer being -able to provide them with hemp, or flax, or silk, or aught -else wherewithal to make bow-strings, did resolve to cut -off their lovely tresses and fair, yellow locks, not sparing -this beauteous honour of their heads and chief adornment -of their beauty. Nay! with their own fair hands, -so white and delicate, they did twist and wind the same -and make it into bow-strings to supply the men of war. -And I leave you to imagine with what high courage and -mettle these would now stretch and bend their bows, shoot -their arrows and fight the foe, bearing as they did such -fine favours of the ladies.</p> - -<p>We read in the History of <span class="no-wrap">Naples<a id="FNanchor_30" href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a></span> -how that great -Captain Sforza, serving under the orders of Queen -Jeanne II., having been taken prisoner by the Queen’s -husband, James, and set in strict confinement and having -some taste of the strappado, would without a doubt -ere much longer have had his head cut off, but that his -sister did fly to arms and straight take the field. She -made so good a fight, she in her own person, as that she -did capture four of the chiefest Neapolitan gentlemen, -and this done, sent to tell the King that whatsoever treatment -he should deal to her brother, the same would she -meet out to his friends. The end was, he was constrained -to make peace and deliver him up safe and sound. Ah! -brave and gallant-hearted sister, rising so superior to her -sex’s weakness!</p> - -<p>I do know of certain sisters and kinswomen, who if but -they had dared a like deed, some while agone, might mayhap -have saved alive a gallant brother of theirs, which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span> -was undone for lack of help and timely succour of the -sort.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">5.</p> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_n_coloured.jpg" width="70" height="70" alt="" /> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Now</span> am I fain to have done with the consideration -of these warlike and great-hearted dames -in general, and to speak of some particular -instances of the same. And as the fairest -example Antiquity hath to show us, I will adduce the -gallant Zenobia[31] only, to answer for all. This Queen, -after the death of her husband, was too wise to waste -her time, like so many others in like case, in mere lamentation -and vain regrets, but did grasp the reins of his -empire in the name of her children, and make war against -the Romans and their Emperor <span class="no-wrap">Aurelian,<a id="FNanchor_31" href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a></span> -at that time -reigning at Rome. Much trouble did she give these foes -for eight long years, till at the last coming to a pitched -battle with his legions, she was vanquished therein and -taken prisoner and brought before the Emperor. On his -asking her how she had had the hardihood to make war -against the Emperors of Rome, she did answer only this: -“Verily! I do well recognise that you are Emperor, seeing -that you have vanquished me.”</p> - -<p>So great content had he of his victory, and so proud -thereof was he and exalted, that he was fain to hold a -triumph over her. So with an exceeding great pomp and -magnificence did she walk before his triumphal car, right -gorgeously put on and adorned with much wealth of -pearls and precious stones, superb jewels and great -chains of gold, wherewith she was bound about the body -and by the hands and feet, in sign of being captive and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span> -slave of her conqueror. And so it was that by reason -of the heavy weight of her jewels and chains she was constrained -to make sundry pauses and to rest her again and -again on this march of triumph. A fine thing, of a -surety, and an admirable, that all vanquished and prisoner -as she was, she could yet give the law to her triumphant -conqueror, and thus make him tarry and wait her -pleasure till that she had recovered breath! A great instance -too of good feeling and honest courtesy on the -part of the Emperor, so to allow her breathing space -and rest, and to suffer her weakness, rather than unduly -to constrain or press her to hurry more than she well -could. So that one doth scarce know which to commend -the more, the honourable courtesy of the Emperor, or the -Queen’s way of acting,—who it may well be, did play -this part of set purpose, not so much forced thereto -by her actual weakness of body and weariness, as for to -make some show of pride and prove to all how she would -and could gather this little sprig of respect in the evening -of her fortunes no less than she had done in the -morning-tide of the same, and let them see how the Emperor -did grant her this much privilege, to wait on her -slow steps and lingering progress.</p> - -<p>Much was the Queen gazed at and admired by men and -women alike, not a few of which last had been but too -glad to resemble so fair an apparition. For truly she -was one of the most lovely of women, by what is said -of the historians of these events. She was of a very fine, -tall and opulent figure, say they, her carriage right noble, -and her grace and dignity to match; furthermore her -face very beautiful and exceeding pleasing, her eyes dark -and piercing. Beside her other beauties, these writers do<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span> -give her fine and very white teeth, a keen wit and a -modest bearing, a sincere and at need a kind and merciful -heart. Her speech was eloquent and spoke with a fine -clear voice; moreover she was used always to express her -ideas and wishes herself to her soldiers, and would many a -time harangue the same publicly.</p> - -<p>I ween he did so show her to best advantage, thus -richly and gracefully attired in women’s weeds, no less -than when she was armed in all points as the Warrior -Queen. For sex doth always count for much; and we may -rightly suppose the Emperor was fain to display her at -his triumph only under guise of her own fair sex, wherein -she would seem most beauteous and agreeable to the populace -in all the perfection of her charms. Furthermore, -’tis to be supposed, so lovely as she was, the Emperor -had tasted and enjoyed her loveliness, and was yet in the -enjoyment thereof. So albeit he had vanquished her in -one fashion, yet had she,—or he, if you prefer it so, for -the two be as one in this,—won the victory in another.</p> - -<p>Mine own wonder is, that seeing the said Zenobia was -so beautiful, the Emperor did not take her and keep -her for one of his mistresses; or else that she did not -open and establish by his permission, or the Senate’s, a -shop or market of love and harlotry, as did the fair -Flora in the same city, for to win wealth and store up -much gear and goods, by the toil of her body and shaking -of her bed. For to such a market had surely resorted -all the greatest men of Rome, one vying with other in -eagerness; seeing there is no contentment ’twould seem, or -satisfaction in all the world like that of a man’s taking his -will of a Royal or Princely person, and enjoying of a fair -Queen, or Princess or a high-born Lady. As to this I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span> -do appeal to such men as have embarked on these voyages, -and made such good traffic there. Now in this fashion -would Queen Zenobia have soon grown rich out of the -purse of these great folks, as did Flora, which did receive -no others in her place of commerce. Had it not been far -better for her to make of her life a scene of merry-making -and magnificence, of money getting and compliments, -than to have fallen into that need and extremity of poverty -she did come to? For she was constrained to gain -her bread a-spinning among common work-women, and -would have died of hunger, but that the Senate, taking -pity of her in view of her former greatness, did decree -her a pension for her maintenance, and some trifling -lands and possessions, which were for long after known -as “Zenobia’s Lands.” For indeed and indeed is poverty -a sore evil; and whosoever can avoid the same, no matter -what transformation be taken to that end, doth well and -right, as one I wot of was used to declare.</p> - -<p>Thus we see how Zenobia did not carry her high courage -to the end of her career, as she should,—and as folk -should ever persist in every course of action to the last. -’Tis said she had had a triumphal car constructed, the -most magnificent ever seen in Rome, to the end she might, -as she was often used to say in her days of high prosperity -and glorying, hold triumph therein at Rome. For -her ambition was to conquer and subdue the Roman Empire! -Alas! for her presumption; for it did all fall out -quite otherwise, and the Emperor having won the day, -did take her car for himself, and use it in his own triumph, -while she did march a-foot, and did make as much triumph -and ceremonial over her as if he had vanquished a -puissant King,—and more. Yet be sure, a victory won<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span> -over a woman, be it gained how it may, is no very great -or famous exploit!</p> - -<p>After a like fashion did Augustus long to triumph -over Cleopatra; but he got no success in this. She did -forestall him in good time, and in the same way which -Aemilius Paulus did signify in what he said to -<span class="no-wrap">Perseus,<a id="FNanchor_32" href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a></span> -when in his captivity he did beseech him to have pity on -him, answering him he should have seen to that beforehand, -meaning that he ought to have killed himself.</p> - -<p>I have heard say that our late King Henri II. did -long for no other thing so sore as to be able to take -prisoner the Queen of Hungary, and this not to treat her -ill, albeit she had given him many causes of offence by her -devastations of his territory, but only to have the glory -of holding this great Princess captive, and to see what -bearing and countenance she would show in her prison, -and if she would then be so gallant and proud-spirited -as at the head of her armies. For in truth there is -naught else so fine and gallant as such a fair, brave and -high-born lady, when she hath will and courage as had -this same Princess, which did much delight in the name -the Spanish soldiers had given her; for just as they did -call her brother the Emperor <i>el padre de los soldados</i>, -“the father of the soldiers,” so did they entitle her -<i>la madre</i>, “the mother,” of the same. So in old days, -in the times of the Romans, was Victoria or Victorina -known in her armies by the name of “the mother of the -camp.” Of a surety, an if a great and beautiful lady -do undertake an exploit of war, she doth contribute much -to its success and giveth much encouragement and spirit -to her folk, as myself have seen in the case of our own -Queen Mother, Catherine de Medici, which did often visit<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span> -our armies, and so doing did greatly animate their -courage and rouse their ardour. The same is done at -this present by her grand-daughter, the Infanta[33] in -Flanders, which doth take the lead of her army, and -show herself a valorous chief of her fighting men,—so -much so that without her and her noble and delightful -presence, Flanders could never have been retained, as -all men allow. And never did even the Queen of Hungary -herself, her grand-aunt, make so fair a show of beauty, -valour, great-heartedness and graceful bearing.</p> - -<p>In our histories of France we do read of how much -avail was the presence of the noble-hearted Comtesse -<span class="no-wrap">de Montfort,<a id="FNanchor_33" href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a></span> -when shut up and besieged in Hennebon. For -albeit her men were brave and valiant, and had quit themselves -in battle and withstood the enemy’s assaults as well -as ever any folk could, yet did they at the last begin to -lose heart and talk of surrendering. But she did harangue -them so eloquently, and did re-animate their courage -with such good and intrepid words, inspiriting them so -finely and so well, as that they did hold out till the -succour, so long and eagerly desired, did arrive, and the -siege was raised. Nay! she did better still; for whenas -the enemy were set on the attack and were all busied -therewith, seeing their tents to be all left empty and -unprotected, she did make a sally, mounted on a good -horse and with fifty good horses to follow her. In this -wise doth she surprise the camp and set it a-fire, the -result being that Charles de Blois, deeming himself to be -betrayed, did straight abandon the assault. On this subject, -I will add yet another little tale:</p> - -<p>During the late Wars of the League, the Prince de -Condé, since deceased, being at Saint-Jean, did send to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span> -demand of Madame <span class="no-wrap">de Bourdeille,<a id="FNanchor_34" href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a></span> -then a widow of the -age of forty, and a very handsome woman, six or seven -of the wealthiest tenants of her estate, the which had -taken refuge in her castle of Mathas at her side. She did -refuse him outright, declaring she would never betray -nor give up these unhappy folk, who had put themselves -under her protection and trusted to her honour for their -safety. On this he did summon her for the last time, -informing her that unless she would deliver them up to -him, he would teach her better obedience. She did make -reply to this (for myself was with her by way of rendering -help) that, seeing he knew not himself how to obey, -she did find it very strange he should wish to make others -do so, and that so soon as he should have obeyed his -King’s orders, she would obey him. For the rest, she did -declare that for all his threats, she was afraid neither -of his cannon nor of his siege, and how that she was -descended from the far-famed Comtesse de Montfort, -from whom her folk had inherited the place, and herself -too, and therewith some share of her gallantry. Further -that she was determined to defend the same so well as -that he should never take it, and that she should win no -less fame herein than her ancestress, the aforesaid Countess, -had done at Hennebon. The Prince did ponder long -over this reply, and did delay some days’ space, without -further threatening her. Yet, had he not presently died, -he would assuredly have laid siege to her castle; but in -that case was she right well prepared in heart, resolution, -men and gear, to receive him warmly, and I do think he -would have gotten a shameful rebuff.</p> - -<p>Machiavelli, in his book <i>On the Art of War</i>, doth -relate how that Catherine, Countess of Forli, was besieged<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span> -in that her good town fortress by Cæsar Borgia, -aided by the French army, which did make a most gallant -resistance to him, yet at the last was taken. The cause -of its loss was this, that the said strong town was over -full of fortresses and strongholds, for folk to retire from -the one to the other; so much so that Borgia having made -his approaches, the Signor Giovanni de Casale (whom the -said Countess had chose for her helper and protector), -did abandon the breach to withdraw into his strongholds. -Through the which error, Borgia did force an entrance -and took the place. And so, saith the author, these -errors did much wrong the high-hearted courage and repute -of the said gallant Countess, which had withstood -an army the King of Naples and the Duke of Milan had -not dared to face; and albeit the issue was unfortunate, -yet did she win the honour she so well deserved, and for -this exploit many rhymes and verses were writ in Italy -in her honour. This passage is one well worthy the attention -of all such as have to do with the fortifying of -places of strength, and do set them to build therein great -numbers of castles, strongholds, fortresses and citadels.</p> - -<p>To return to our proper subject, we have had in times -past many Princesses and high-born ladies in this our -land of France, which have given excellent marks of their -prowess. As did <span class="no-wrap">Paule,<a id="FNanchor_35" href="#Footnote_35" class="fnanchor">[35*]</a></span> -daughter of the Comte de Penthièvre, -who was besieged in Roye by the Comte de Charolais, -and did there show herself so gallant and great-hearted -as that, on the town being taken, the Count did -grant her very good conditions, and had her conducted -in safety to Compiègne, not suffering any hurt to be done -her. So greatly did he honour her for her valour,—and -this albeit he felt deep resentment against her husband,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span> -whom he held guilty of having tried to work his death -by black arts and sundry evil devices of images and -candles.</p> - -<p>Richilda,[36] only daughter and heiress of Mons in Hainault, -and wife of Baldwyn the Sixth, Count of Flanders, -did make all efforts against Robert the Frisian, her -brother-in-law, appointed guardian of the children of -Flanders, for to take away from him the duty and administration -of the same, and have it assigned to herself. -To which end she did take up arms with the help of -Philip, King of France, and hazarded two battles[36] against -Count Robert. In the first she was taken prisoner, as -was likewise her foe, the said Count Robert, but afterward -were the twain given back in exchange one of the -other. A second battle followed, which she lost, her son -Arnulphe being slain therein, and was driven back to -Mons.</p> - -<p>Ysabel of France, daughter of King Philippe le Bel, -and wife of <span class="no-wrap">Edward II.<a id="FNanchor_36" href="#Footnote_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a></span> -of England, and Duke of -Guienne, was ill looked on of the King her husband, -through the intrigues of Hugh le Despenser, whereby she -was constrained to withdraw to France with her son -Edward. Afterward she did return to England with the -Chevalier de Hainault, her kinsman, and an army which -she did lead thither, and by means of which she did presently -take her husband prisoner. Him she did deliver -up into the hands of men which did soon bring about his -death; a fate that overtook herself likewise, for by reason -of her loves with a certain Lord Mortimer, she was confined -by her own son in a castle, and there ended her -days. She it was that did afford the English pretext -to quarrel with France to the sore hurt of the same.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span> -Yet surely we have here a piece of base ingratitude on -her son’s part, who all forgetful of great benefit received, -did so cruelly treat his mother for so small a fault. -Small I call it, for that ’twas but natural, and an easy -thing, that after dealing long with men of arms, and -grown so accustomed to go in manly guise with them amid -armies and tents and camps, she should do the like also -a-bed.</p> - -<p>This is a thing oft times seen to happen. For example -I do refer me to our Queen <span class="no-wrap">Léonor,<a id="FNanchor_37" href="#Footnote_37" class="fnanchor">[37*]</a></span> -Duchess of Guienne, -which did accompany her husband over seas and to the -Holy Wars. By dint of much frequenting of men at -arms and troopers and such folk, she did come to derogate -very gravely from her honour,—so far as that she -did have dealings even with the Saracens. For the which -the King her husband did put her away, a thing that -cost us very dear. We can but suppose she was fain to -try whether these worthy foes were as gallant champions -in a lady’s chamber as in the open field, and that mayhap -’twas her humour to ever love valiant wights, and that -one valiance doth ever attract another, as virtue doth -to virtue. For verily he saith most true, which doth -declare virtue to be like the lightning, that pierceth -through all things.</p> - -<p>The said Queen Léonor was not the only lady which -did accompany her husband to these same Holy Wars. -But both before her day, and with her, and after her, no -few other Princesses and great ladies did along with their -lords take the cross,—not that they did therefore cross -their legs, but did rather open these and stretch them -right wide, in such wise that while some did remain there -for good and all, others came back from the wars most<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span> -finished harlots. So under pretext of visiting the Holy -Sepulchre, amid all that press of arms they did much -amorous wantoning; for verily, as I have observed afore, -arms and love do well accord together, so close and congruous -is the sympathy betwixt these twain.</p> - -<p>Suchlike dames ought surely to be esteemed, loved and -treated like men,—not as the Amazons did of old, which -proclaiming themselves daughters of Mars, did rid them -of their husbands, pretending marriage was sheer slavery; -yet desire enough and to spare had they to go with other -men, for to have daughters of them, but killing all the -male children.</p> - -<p>Jo. Nauclerus, in his <span class="no-wrap"><i>Cosmography</i>,<a id="FNanchor_38" href="#Footnote_38" class="fnanchor">[38*]</a></span> -relates how, in the -year of Christ 1123, after the death of Tibussa, Queen -of the Bohemians, she who did first close in the town of -Prague with walls, and who did very greatly abhor the -power and domination of men, there was one of her damsels, -by name Valasca, which did so well gain over the -maids and matrons of that land by her fair and alluring -promises of liberty, and did so thoroughly disgust and -set them against their servitude to manfolk, as that they -did slay each her man, one her husband, another her -brother, another her kinsman or next neighbour, and so -in less than no time were mistresses of the realm. Then -having taken their husbands’ harness of war, they did -make such good use thereof, and grew so valiant and -skilled in arms, fighting after the Amazon fashion, as -that they soon gat them several victories. Yet were they -presently, by the conduct and cunning wiles of one Primislaus, -husband of Tibussa, a man she had raised up from -low and humble state, routed entirely and put to death. -This was sure God Almighty’s vengeance for so heinous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span> -an act and dread attempt, no less indeed than to destroy -the human race itself.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">6.</p> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t_coloured.jpg" width="70" height="70" alt="" /> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Thus</span> did these Amazonian dames find no other -fashion of showing forth their gallant spirit -for fine, bold and manly exploits but only -by these cruel deeds we have named. On the -contrary, how many Empresses, Queens, Princesses and -other high-born Ladies, have done the like by means of -noble acts, both in the governance and management of -their dominions, and in other excellent ways, whereof the -Histories be so full that I need not recount the same. -For the desire of holding sway, of reigning and ruling, -doth lodge within women’s breasts no less than in men’s, -and they be just as eager after domination as the other -sex.</p> - -<p>Well! now I am about to speak of one that was unsullied -of this ambition, to wit Vittoria <span class="no-wrap">Colonna,<a id="FNanchor_39" href="#Footnote_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a></span> -wife of the Marquis de Pescaire. I have read of this lady in a -Spanish book, how that whenas the said Marquis did -hearken to the fine offers made him by Hieronimo Mouron -on the Pope’s behalf (as I have said in a previous passage) -of the Kingdom of Naples, if only he would enter -into the league with him, she being informed of the matter -by her husband himself, who did never hide aught from -her of his privy affairs, neither small nor great, did write -to him (for she had an excellent gift of language), and -bade him remember his ancient valour and virtue, the -which had given him such glory and high repute, as that -these did exceed the fame and fortune of the greatest<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span> -Kings of the earth. She then went on: <i>non con grandeza -de los reynos, de Estados ny de hermosos titulos, sino -con fè illustre y clara virtud, se alcançava la honra, la -qual con loor siempre vivo, legava a los descendientes; y -que no havia ningun grado tan alto que no fuese vencido -de una trahicion y mala fe. Que por esto, ningun deseo -tenia de ser muger de rey, queriendo antes ser muger de -tal capitan, que no solamente en guerra con valorosa -mano, mas en paz con gran honra de animo no vencido, -havia sabido vencer reyes, y grandissimos principes, y -capitanes, y darlos a triunfos, y imperiarlos</i>,—“not by -the greatness of Kingdoms and of vast Dominions, nor -yet of high and sounding titles, but by fair faith and -unsullied virtue, is honour won,—the virtue that with -ever living praise doth go down to all descendants. And -there is never a rank so exalted but it were undone and -spoiled by treason wrought and good faith broke. For -such a prize she had no wish to be a King’s wife, but had -rather be a simple Captain’s such as he, which not alone -in war by his valiant arm, but in peace likewise with the -honour of an unbroken spirit, had been strong to vanquish -Kings, great Princes and mighty Captains, to triumph -over the same and master them.” High courage and -virtue and truth did all mark this lady’s words; for truly -to reign by ill faith is a very evil and sorry thing, but -to give the law to Kings and kingdoms by honesty and -worth a right noble one.</p> - -<p>Fulvia, wife of Publius Clodius, and in second wedlock -that of Mark Antony, finding but small amusement in -her household tasks, did set herself to higher business, -to manage affairs of State that is, till she did win herself -the repute of ruling the Rulers of <span class="no-wrap">Rome.<a id="FNanchor_40" href="#Footnote_40" class="fnanchor">[40*]</a></span> -And indeed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span> -Cleopatra did owe her some gratitude and obligation for -having so well trained and disciplined Mark Antony to -obey and bend him under the laws of submission.</p> - -<p>We read moreover of that great French Prince Charles -Martel, which in his day would never take nor bear the -title of King, as ’twas within his power to do, but liked -better to govern Kings and give orders to the same.</p> - -<p>However let us speak of some of our own countrywomen. -We had, in our War of the League, Madame de -Montpensier, sister of the late Duc de Guise, who was a -great Stateswoman, and did contribute much, as well by -the subtile inventions of her fine spirit as by the labour of -her hands, to build up the said league. And after the -same had been now well established, playing one day at -cards (for she doth well love this pastime) and taking -the first deal, on their telling her she should well shuffle -the cards, she did answer before all the company: “I have -shuffled the cards so well, as that they could not be -better shuffled or combined together.” This would all -have turned out well, if only her friends had lived; on -whose unhappy end however, without losing heart at all -at such a loss, she did set herself to avenge them. And -having heard the news when in Paris, she doth not shut -herself in her chamber to indulge her grief, as most other -women would have done, but cometh forth of her house -with her brother’s children, and holding these by the -hand, doth take them up and down the city, making -public mourning of her bereavement before the citizens, -rousing the same by her tears and piteous cries and sad -words which she did utter to all, to take up arms and -rise in fierce protest, and insult the -<span class="no-wrap">King’s<a id="FNanchor_41" href="#Footnote_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a></span> -house and -picture, as we have seen done, and I do hope to relate<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span> -in his life, and deny all fealty to him, swearing rank -rebellion to his authority, all which did presently result -in his murder. As to which ’tis well enough known what -persons, men and women, did counsel the same, and are -properly guilty thereof. Of a surety no sister’s heart, -losing such brothers, could well digest such deadly venom -without vengeance of this foul murder.</p> - -<p>I have heard it related how after she had thus put the -good folk of Paris in so great a state of animosity and -dissatisfaction, she did set her forth to ask of the Duke -of Parma his help toward her vengeance. So thither she -maketh her way, but by such long and heavy stages as -that her coach horses were left so wearied out and -foundered, stranded in the mire somewhere in the very -midst of Picardy, that they could not go another step -either forward or backward, nor put one foot before -another. As chance would have it, there did pass that -way a very honourable gentleman of that countryside, -which was a Protestant, and who, albeit she was disguised -both as to name and in dress, did recognize her -well enough. But yet, ignoring all the hurts she had -wrought against his fellows in religion, and the hatred -she bare them, with frank and full courtesy, he did thus -accost her: “Madam, I know you well, and am your most -humble servant. I find you in ill case, and beg you, an -if you will, come to my house, which is close at hand, -to dry your clothes and rest you. I will afford you every -convenience I can to the very best of my ability. Have -no fear; for though I be of the reformed faith, which -you do hate so sore in us, I would fain not leave you -without offering you a courtesy you do stand much in -need of.” This fair offer she did in no wise refuse, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span> -did accept very readily; then after that he had provided -her with such things as were needful, she doth take the -road again, he conducting her on her way two leagues, -though all the while she did keep secret from him the -purport of her journey. Later on in the course of the -war, by what I have heard, she did repay her debt to the -said gentleman by many acts of courtesy done him.</p> - -<p>Many have wondered at her trusting of herself to him, -being Huguenot as he was. But there! necessity hath no -law; and beside, she did see him so honourable seeming, -and heard him speak so honestly and frankly, that she -could not but believe him disposed to deal fairly with her.</p> - -<p>As for Madame de Nemours, her mother, who was -thrown into prison after the murder of her noble son’s -children, there can be little doubt of the despair and -desolation she was left in by so intolerable a loss; and -albeit till that day she had ever shown herself of a gentle -and cold humour, and one that did need good and sufficient -cause to rouse her, she did now spew forth a -thousand insults against the King, and cast in his teeth -a thousand curses and execrations, going so far (for -verily what deed or word could ever match the vehemence -of such a loss and bitter sorrow?) as always to speak of -him by no other name but this, <i>that Tyrant</i>. Later, -being come somewhat to herself, she would say: “Alas! -what say I,—Tyrant? Nay! nay! I will not call him so, -but a most good and clement King, if only he will kill me -as he hath killed my children, to take me out of the -wretchedness wherein I am, and remove me to the blessedness -of God’s heaven!” Later again, softening still further -her words and bitter cries, and finding some surcease -of sorrow, she would say naught else but only, “Ah! my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span> -children! my poor children!”—repeating these same -words over and over again with floods of tears, that -’twould have melted an heart of stone. Alas! she might -well lament and deplore them so sore, being so good and -great hearted, so virtuous and so valorous, as they were, -but above all the noble Duc de Guise, a worthy eldest -son and true paragon of all valour and true-heartedness. -Moreover she did love her children so fondly, that one -day as I was discoursing with a noble lady of the Court -of the said Madame de Nemours, she told me how that -Princess was the happiest in all the world, for sundry -reasons which she did give me,—except only in one thing, -which was that she did love her children over much; for -that she did love them with such excess of fondness as -that the common anxiety she had of their safety and the -fear some ill should happen them, did cloud all her -happiness, making her to live always in inquietude and -alarm for their sake. I leave you then, reader, to imagine -how grievous was the sorrow, bitterness and pain she -did feel at the death of these twain, and how lively the -terror for the <span class="no-wrap">other,<a id="FNanchor_42" href="#Footnote_42" class="fnanchor">[42*]</a></span> -which was away in the neighbourhood -of Lyons, as well as for the Duke her husband, -then a prisoner. For of his imprisonment she had never -a suspicion, as herself did declare, nor of his death -neither, as I have said above.</p> - -<p>When she was removed from the Castle of Blois to be -conveyed to that of Amboise for straiter confinement -therein, just as she had passed the gate, she did turn -her round and lifted her head toward the figure of King -Louis XII., her grandfather, which is there carven in -stone above the door, on horseback and with a very -noble mien and warlike bearing. So she, tarrying there<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span> -a little space and gazing thereon, said in a loud voice -before a great number of folk which had come together, -with a fine bold look which did never desert her: “An if -he which is there pourtrayed were alive, he would never -suffer his granddaughter thus to be carried away prisoner, -and treated as she is this day.” Then with these -words, she did go on her way, without further remonstrance. -Understand this, that in her heart she was -invoking and making appeal to the manes of that her -great-hearted ancestor, to avenge her of the injustice -of her imprisonment. Herein she acted precisely as did -certain of the conspirators for Cæsar’s death, which as -they were about to strike their blow, did turn them -toward the statue of Pompey, and did inwardly invoke -and make appeal to the shade of his valiant arm, so -puissant of old, to conduct the emprise they were set on to -a successful issue. It may well be the invocation of this -Princess may have something aided and advanced the -death of the King which had so outraged her. A lady -of high heart and spirit which doth thus brood over -vengeance to come is no little to be dreaded.</p> - -<p>I do remember me how, when her late husband, the -Duc de Guise, did get the stroke whereof he died, she -was at the time in his camp, having come thither some -days previously to visit the same. So soon as ever he -did come into his quarters wounded, she did advance to -meet him as far as the door of his lodging all tearful -and despairing, and after saluting him, did suddenly -cry out: “Can it be that the wretch which hath struck -this blow and he that hath set him on (signifying her -suspicion of the Admiral de Coligny) should go unpunished? -Oh God! an if thou art just, as thou must needs<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span> -be, avenge this deed; or else ...,” but stopping at -this word, she did not end her sentence, for that her -noble husband did interrupt her, saying: “Nay! dear -heart, defy not God. An if ’tis He which hath sent me -this for my sins, His will be done, and we should glorify -him therefor. But an if it come from other, seeing vengeance -is His alone, He will surely exact the penalty -without you.” Natheless, when he was dead, did she so -fiercely follow up her revenge, as that the murderer was -torn to pieces of four <span class="no-wrap">horses,<a id="FNanchor_43" href="#Footnote_43" class="fnanchor">[43*]</a></span> -while the supposed author -of the crime was assassinated after the lapse of some -years, as I will tell in its proper place. This was due to -the instruction she did give her son, as myself have seen, -and the counsel and persuasion she did feed him withal -from his tenderest years, till at the last final and complete -vengeance was accomplished.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">7.</p> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t_coloured.jpg" width="70" height="70" alt="" /> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> counsel and appeal of great-hearted wives -and loving mothers be of no small avail in -such matters. As to this, I do remember me -how, when King Charles IX. was making his -Royal progress about his Kingdom, and was now at -Bordeaux, the Baron de Bournazel was put in prison, -a very brave and honourable gentleman of Gascony, for -having slain another gentleman of his own neighbourhood, -named La Tour,—and, so ’twas said, by dint of much -traitorous subtlety. The widow did so eagerly press for -his punishment, as that care was taken the news should -reach the King’s and Queen’s chambers, that they were -about to cut off the said Baron’s head. Hereon did the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span> -gentlemen and ladies of the Court of a sudden bestir -themselves, and much effort was made to save his life. -Twice over were the King and Queen besought to grant -his pardon. The High Chancellor did set him strongly -against this, saying justice must needs be done; whereas -the King was much in favour of mercy, for that he was -a young man, and asked for naught better than to save -his life, as he was one of the gallants frequenting the -Court, and M. de <span class="no-wrap">Cipierre<a id="FNanchor_44" href="#Footnote_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a></span> -was keen in urging the same -course. Yet was the hour of execution now drawing nigh, -without aught being done,—to the astonishment of everybody.</p> - -<p>Hereupon did M. de Nemours intervene, which loved -the unhappy Baron, who had followed him gallantly on -sundry fields of battle. The Duke went and threw himself -at the Queen’s feet, and did earnestly beseech her -to give the poor gentleman his life, begging and praying -so hard and pressing her so with his words as that -the favour was e’en given him at the last. Then on the -instant was sent a Captain of the Guard, which went and -sought the man out and took him from the prison, just -as he was being led forth to his doom. Thus was he -saved, but in such fearful circumstances that a look of -terror did remain ever after imprinted on his features, -and he could never thereafter regain his colour, as myself -have seen. I have heard tell how the same thing did -happen to M. de Saint-Vallier, which did have a fine -escape by the interest of M. de Bourbon.</p> - -<p>Meantime however the widow was not idle, but did -come next day to intercept the King as he was going to -Mass, and did throw herself at his feet. She did present -him her son, which might be three or four years old,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span> -saying thus: “At the least, Sire, as you have given pardon -to this child’s murderer, I do beseech you grant the same -to him now at this moment, for the time when he shall -be grown up and shall have taken his vengeance and -slain that wretch.” And from that time onward, by what -I have heard said, the mother would come every morning -to awake her child; and showing him the bloody shirt his -father had on when he was killed, would repeat to him -three times over: “Mark this token, well, and bear well -in mind, when you be grown up, to avenge this wrong; -else do I disinherit you.” A bitter spirit of revenge -truly!</p> - -<p>Myself when I was in Spain, did hear the tale how -Antonio Roques, one of the most brave and valiant, cunning, -cautious and skilful, famous and withal most courteous, -bandits ever was in all Spain (’tis a matter of -common knowledge), did in his early years desire to enter -religion and be ordained priest. But the day being now -come when he was to sing his first mass, just as he was -coming forth from the vestry and was stepping with great -ceremony toward the High Altar of his parish Church -duly robed and accoutred to do his office, and chalice in -hand, he did hear his mother saying to him as he passed -her: <i>Ah! vellaco, vellaco, mejor seria de vengar la muerte -de tu padre, que de cantar misa</i>,—“Ah! wretch and miscreant -that you are! ’twere better far to avenge your -father’s death than to be singing Mass.” This word did -so touch him at heart, as that he doth coldly turn him -about in mid progress, and back to the vestry, where he -doth unrobe him, pretending his heart had failed him -from indisposition, and that it should be for another -time. Then off to the mountains to join the brigands,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span> -among whom he doth presently win such esteem and renown -that he was chose their chief; there he doth many -crimes and thefts, and avengeth his father’s death, which -had been killed, some said, of a comrade, though others -declared him a victim of the King’s justice. This tale -was told me by one that was a bandit himself, and had -been under his orders in former days. This man did bepraise -him to the third heaven; and true it is the Emperor -Charles could never do him any hurt.</p> - -<p>But to return once more to Madame de Nemours, the -King did keep her in prison scarce any time, whereof was -M. d’Escars in part the cause. He did soon release her, -for to send her on a mission to the Ducs du Maine and -de Nemours, and other Princes members of the League, -bearing to all words of peace and oblivion of all past -grievances:—dead men were dead, and there an end; best -be good friends as aforetime. In fact, the King did take -an oath of her, that she would faithfully perform this -said embassy. Accordingly on her arrival, at first accost -’twas naught but tears and lamentations and regrets for -all their losses; then anon did she make report of her -instructions, whereto M. du Maine did reply, asking her -if this were her own advice. She answered simply: “I -have not come hither, my son, to advise you, but only to -repeat to you the message I am charged withal and bidden -give you. ’Tis for you to think whether you have sufficient -cause to do so, and if your duty points that way. -As to what I tell you, your heart and your conscience -should give you the best advice. For myself, I do but -discharge a commission I have promised to fulfil.” Natheless, -under the rose, she knew well enough how to stir the -fire, which did long burn so fierce.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span></p> - -<p>Many folks have wondered greatly, how the King, that -was so wise and one of the most adroit men of his Kingdom, -came to employ this lady for such an office, having -so sorely injured her that she could have had neither -heart nor feeling if she had taken therein the very least -pains in the world; but there, she did simply make mock -of him and his instructions. Report said at the time this -was the fine advice of the Maréchal de Retz, who did give -a like piece of counsel to King Charles, namely to send -M. de la Noue into the town of La Rochelle, for to persuade -the inhabitants to peace and their proper duty and -allegiance. The better to accredit him to them, he did -permit him to play the eager partisan on their side and -on his own, to fight desperately for them, and give them -counsel and advice against the King,—but all under this -condition that when his services should be claimed by the -King or the King’s brother, which was his Lieutenant -General, and he ordered to leave the place, he would -obey. This he did and all else, making fierce enough -war, and finally quitting the place; yet meanwhile he did -so confirm his folk and sharpen their spirit, and did give -them such excellent lessons and so greatly encouraged -them, as that for that time they did cut our beards to -rights for <span class="no-wrap">us.<a id="FNanchor_45" href="#Footnote_45" class="fnanchor">[45*]</a></span> -Many would have it, there was no subtlety -in all this; but I did see it all with mine own eyes, and I -do hope to give full account of these doings elsewhere. -At any rate this was all the said Maréchal did avail his -King and country; one that ’twere more natural surely -to hold a charlatan and swindler than a good counsellor -and a Marshal of France.</p> - -<p>I will tell one other little word of the aforesaid Duchesse -de Nemours. I have heard it said that at the time they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span> -were framing the famous League, and she would be examining -the papers and the lists of the towns which did -join it, not yet seeing Paris figuring therein, she would -ever say to her son: “All this is naught, my son; we must -have Paris to boot. If you have not Paris, you have -done naught; wherefore, ho! for Paris city.” And never -a word but Paris, Paris, was always in her mouth; and -the end of it all was the barricades that were seen afterward.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">8.</p> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_i_coloured16.jpg" width="70" height="70" alt="" /> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">In</span> this we see how a brave heart doth ever fly at -the highest game. And this doth again remind -me of a little tale I have read in a Spanish Romance -called <i>la Conquista de Navarra</i>, “The -Conquest of <span class="no-wrap">Navarre.”<a id="FNanchor_46" href="#Footnote_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a></span> -This Kingdom having been taken -and usurped from King John of Navarre by the King of -Aragon, Louis XII. did send an army under M. de la -Palice to win it back. Our King did send word to the -Queen, Donna Catherine, by M. de la Palice which did -bring her the news, that she should come to the Court -of France and there tarry with his Queen Anne, while -that the King, her husband, along with M. de la Palice -was making essay to recover the Kingdom. The Queen -did make him this gallant answer: “How now, Sir! I -did suppose the King your master had sent you hither -for to carry me with you to my Kingdom and set me again -at Pampeluna, and for me to accompany you thither, as -my mind was made up to do and my preparations made. -Yet now you bid me go stay at the Court of France? -Truly a poor hope and ill augury for me! I see plainly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span> -I shall never set foot in mine own land again.” And even -as she did presage, the thing fell out.</p> - -<p>It was told and commanded the Duchess de Valentinois, -on the approach of the death of King Henri II., when his -health was now despaired of, to retire to her mansion in -Paris, and go no more into his chamber,—to the end she -might not disturb him in his pious meditations, and no -less on account of the hostility certain did bear her. Then -when she had so withdrawn, they did send to her again to -demand sundry rings and jewels, which did belong to the -Crown and which she must give back. At this she did -on a sudden ask the worthy spokesman: “Why! is the -King dead then?”—“No! Madam,” replied the other, “but -it can scarce be long first.”—“As long as there is one -breath of life left in his body, I would have my enemies -to know I fear them not a whit, and that I will never -obey them, so long as he shall be alive. My courage is -still invincible. But when he is dead, I care not to live -on after him, and all the vexations you could inflict on -me would be but kindness compared with the bitterness -of my loss. So, whether my King be quick or dead, I fear -not mine enemies at all.”</p> - -<p>Herein did this fair lady show great spirit, and a true -heart. Yet she did not die, ’twill be objected of some, as -she did say she would. True! yet did she not fail to experience -some threatenings of death; beside, she did better -to choose rather to live than to die, for to show her -enemies she was no wise afeared of them. Having erst -seen them shake and tremble before her, she would fain -escape doing the same before them, and did wish to show -so good a face and confident look to them as that they -never durst do her any displeasure. Nay! more than this;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span> -within two years’ space they did seek to her more than -ever, and renewed their friendship with her, as I did -myself see. And this is the way with great lords and -ladies, which have little solid continuance in their friendships, -and in their differences do readily make it up -again, like thieves at a fair, and the same with all their -loves and hatreds. This we smaller folks do never do; for -either we must needs fight, avenge and die, or else make up -the quarrel by way of punctilious, minutely ordered and -carefully arranged terms of agreement. So in this we do -play the better part.</p> - -<p>We cannot but admire this lady’s conduct and behaviour; -and truly these high-born dames which have -to do with affairs of State, do commonly act in a grander -way than the ordinary run of women. And this is why -our late King Henri III., last deceased, and the Queen, -his mother, did by no means love such ladies of their Court -as did much trouble their wits with matters of State and -put their nose therein and did concern them to speak of -other matters near touching the government of the Kingdom. -’Twas as if, their Majesties were used to declare, -they had some great part therein and might be heirs of the -same, or just as if they had given the sweat of their bodies -and force of their hands to its management and maintenance, -like men; whereas, for a mere pastime, talking at -the fireside, sitting comfortably in their chairs or lying on -their pillows, or their daybeds, they would discourse at -their ease of the world at large and the state of the -Country, as if they did arrange it all. On this point a -certain great lady of fashion, whom I will not name, did -one time make a shrewd reply, who taking on her to say -out all her say on occasion of the first meeting of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span> -Estates at Blois, their Majesties did cause a slight reprimand -to be given her, telling her she should attend to -the affairs of her own house and her prayers to God. -To this being something too free in her speech, she did -answer thus: “In days of yore when Princes, Kings and -great Lords did take the cross and hie them over-seas, to -do so noble exploits in the Holy Land, insooth ’twas allowed -us women only to fast and pray, make orisons and -vows, that God might give them a successful journey and -a safe return. But nowadays that we do see them do -naught better than ourselves, ’tis surely allowed us to -speak of all matters; for as to praying God for them, -why should we do so, seeing they do no more heroic deeds -than ourselves?”</p> - -<p>This speech was for sure too bold and outspoken, and -indeed it came very nigh to costing her dear. She had all -the difficulty in the world to win pardon and excuse, which -she had to ask for right humbly; and had it not been for -a certain private reason I could tell, and if I would, she -had received dire pains and penalties therefor, and very -signal punishment.</p> - -<p>’Tis not always well to speak out a sharp saying such -as this, when it cometh to the lips. Myself have seen not -a few folk which could in no wise govern their wit in this -sort, but were more untamed than a Barbary charger. -Finding a good shrewd gibe in their mouth, out they must -spit it, without sparing relations, friends or superiors. -Many such I have known at our own Court of France, -where they were well called <i>Marquis et Marquises de belle-bouche</i>, -“Lords and Ladies of Frank Speech;” but many -and many a time did their frank speech bring them in sore -trouble.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span></p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">9.</p> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_h_coloured.jpg" width="70" height="70" alt="" /> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Having</span> thus described the brave and gallant -bearing of sundry ladies on sundry noble -occasions of their life, I am fain now to give -some examples of the like high qualities displayed -at their death. Without borrowing any instance -of Antiquity, I will merely adduce that of the late deceased -Queen <span class="no-wrap">Regent<a id="FNanchor_47" href="#Footnote_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a></span> -mother of our noble King Francis -I. In her day this Princess, as I have heard many of -mine acquaintance say, both men and women, was a very -fair lady, and very gay and gallant to boot, which she -did continue to be even in her declining years. And for -this cause, when folk did talk to her of death, she -did exceedingly mislike such discourse, not excepting -preachers which did hold forth on this subject in their -sermons. “As if,” she would cry, “we did not all of us -know well enough we must one day die. The fact is, -these preachers, whenas they can find naught further to -say in their sermons, and be at the end of their powers -of invention, like other simple folk, do take refuge in this -theme of death.” The late Queen of Navarre, her daughter, -did no less than her mother detest these same harpings -on death and sermonizings on mortality.</p> - -<p>Well, being now come near her fated end, and lying -on her deathbed, three days before that event, she did -see her chamber at night all lit up by a brilliant gleam -shining in through the window. She did hereupon chide -her bedchamber women, which were sitting up with her, -asking them for why they did make so big and bright -a fire. But they did answer, that there was but a small<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span> -fire burning, and that ’twas the moon which did shine -so bright and cause the illumination. “Why!” she did -exclaim, “there is no moon at this time of the month; it -hath no business to be shining now.” And of a sudden, -bidding open her curtain, she did behold a comet, which -shone right on her bed. “Ah, look!” she cried, “yonder -is a sign which doth not appear for persons of common -quality. God doth show it forth only for us great lords -and ladies. Shut the window again; ’tis a comet, announcing -my death; we must prepare therefor.” So next morning, -having sent to seek her confessor, she did perform -all the duty of a good Christian, albeit the physicians did -assure her she was not yet come to this. “Had I not -seen the sign of my death,” she said, “I should believe you, -for indeed I do not feel me so far gone,” and thereon did -describe to them all the appearance of the comet. Finally, -three days later, leaving all concerns of this world, she did -pass away.</p> - -<p>I cannot but believe but that great ladies, and such as -be young, beautiful and high-born, do feel greater and -more sore regret to leave this world than other women. -Yet will I now name some such, which have made light -of death, and have met the same with a good heart, though -for the moment the announcement thereof was exceeding -bitter and hateful to them. The late Comtesse de -<span class="no-wrap">La Rochefoucault,<a id="FNanchor_48" href="#Footnote_48" class="fnanchor">[48*]</a></span> -of the house of Roye, in my opinion and -that of many beside, one of the fairest and most charming -women in all France, when her minister (for she was of the -Reformed Faith, as everybody is aware) did warn her she -must think no more of worldly things, and that her hour -was now come, that she must presently away to God -which was calling her, and leave all worldly vanities,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span> -which were naught as compared with the blessedness of -heaven, she said to him thus: “This is all very well, Sir -Minister, to say to women which have no great contentment -and pleasure in this world, and which have one -foot in the grave already; but to me, that am no more -than in the bloom of mine age and my delight in this world -and my beauty, your sentence is exceeding bitter. And -albeit I have more cause to hug myself in this world than -in any other, and much reason to regret dying, yet would -I fain show you my high courage herein, and do assure -you I take my death with as good will as the most common, -abject, low, foul old crone that ever was in this -world.” So presently, she did set her to sing psalms with -much pious devotion, and so died.</p> - -<p>Madame <span class="no-wrap">d’Espernon,<a id="FNanchor_49" href="#Footnote_49" class="fnanchor">[49*]</a></span> -of the house of Candale, was attacked -of so sudden and deadly a malady as that she -was carried off in less than a week. Before her death, she -did essay all remedies which might cure her, imploring -the help of men and of God in most fervent prayers, as -well as of all her friends, and her retainers male and -female, taking it very hard that she was to die so young. -But when they did reason with her and inform her she -must verily and indeed quit this world, and that no remedy -was of any avail: “Is it true?” she said; “leave me alone -then, I will make up my mind to bear it bravely.” These -were the exact words she used. Then lifting up her two -soft, white arms, and laying her two hands one against -the other, with an open look and a confident spirit, she -made her ready to wait death with all patience, and to -leave this world, which she did proceed to abjure in very -pious and Christian terms. Thus did she die as a devout -and good Christian should, at the age of twenty-six, being<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span> -one of the handsomest and most charming women of her -time.</p> - -<p>’Tis not right, they say, to praise one’s own belongings; -on the other hand what is at once good and true should not -be kept hid. This is why I am fain in this place to commend -Madame <span class="no-wrap">d’Aubeterre,<a id="FNanchor_50" href="#Footnote_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a></span> -mine own niece and daughter of my -elder brother, who as all they that have seen her at Court -or elsewhere will go with me in saying, was one of the -fairest and most perfect ladies you could see, as well in -body as in mind. The former did plainly and externally -show forth its excellence in her handsome and charming -face, her graceful figure, and all her sweet mien and bearing; -while for the mind, ’twas divinely gifted and ignorant -of naught it were meet to know. Her discourse was very -fit, simple and unadorned, and did flow right smoothly and -agreeably from her lips, whether in serious converse or in -merry interchange of wit. No woman have I ever seen -which, in my opinion, did more resemble our Queen Marguerite -of France, as well in her general air as in her special -charms; and I did once hear the Queen Mother say -the same. To say this is by itself commendation enough, -so I will add no more; none which have ever seen her, -will, I am well assured, give me the lie as to this. Of a -sudden it befell this lady to be attacked by a malady, -which the physicians did fail to recognize rightly, merely -wasting their Latin in the attempt. Herself, however, did -believe she had been poisoned; though I will not say in -what quarter. Still God will avenge all, and mayhap -the guilty in this matter will yet be punished. She did -all she could in the way of remedies,—though not, she -did declare, because she was afeared of dying. For since -her husband’s death, she had lost all fear of this, albeit<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span> -he was for sure in no wise her equal in merit, nor deserving -of her or of the tender tears her fair eyes did shed after -his death. Yet would she have been right glad to live on a -while longer for the love of her daughter, the which she -was leaving a tender slip of a girl. This last was a good -and excellent reason, while regrets for an husband that was -both foolish and vexatious are surely but vain and idle.</p> - -<p>Thus she, seeing now no remedy was of avail, and feeling -her own pulse, which she did herself try and find to be -galloping fast (for she had understanding of all such matters), -two days before she died, did send to summon her -<span class="no-wrap">daughter,<a id="FNanchor_51" href="#Footnote_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a></span> -and did make her a very good and pious exhortation, -such as no other mother mayhap that I know of -could have made a finer one or one better expressed,—at -once instructing her how to live in this world and how -to win the grace of God in the next; this ended, she did -give her her blessing, bidding her no more trouble with her -tears the sweet easefulness and repose she was about to -enjoy with God. Presently she did ask for her mirror, -and looking at herself very fixedly therein, did exclaim, -“Ah! traitor face, that doth in no wise declare my sickness -(for indeed ’twas as fair to look on as ever), thou -art yet unchanged; but very soon death, which is drawing -nigh, will have the better of thy beauty, which shall -rot away and be devoured of worms.” Moreover she had -put the most part of her rings on her fingers; and gazing -on these, and her hand withal, which was very well shaped: -“Lo! a vanity I have much loved in days gone-by; yet -now I do quit the same willingly, to bedeck me in the -other world with another much fairer adornment.”</p> - -<p>Then seeing her sisters weeping their eyes out at her -bedside, she did comfort them, exhorting them to take in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span> -good part, as she did, what God was pleased to send her, -and saying that as they had always loved each other so -well, they should not grieve at that which did bring her -only joy and contentment. She did further tell them that -the fond friendship she had ever borne them should be -eternal, beseeching them to return her the like, and above -all to extend it to her child. Presently seeing them but -weep the harder at this, she said once more: “Sisters -mine, an if ye do love me, why do ye not rejoice with -me over the exchange I make of a wretched life for one -most happy? My soul, wearied of so many troubles, -doth long to be free, and to be in blessed rest with Jesus -Christ my Saviour. Yet you would fain have it still -tied to this miserable body, which is but its prison, not -its domicile. I do beseech you, therefore, my sisters, -torment yourselves no more.”</p> - -<p>Many other the like words did she prefer, so pious and -Christian as that there is never a Divine, however great -could have uttered better or more blessed,—all which I -do pass over. In especial she did often ask to see Madame -de Bourdeille, her mother, whom she had prayed her sisters -to send fetch, and kept saying to them: “Oh! sisters, is -not Madame de Bourdeille coming yet? Oh! how slow -your couriers be! they be really not fit to ride post and -make special speed.” Her mother did at last arrive, but -never saw her alive, for she had died an hour before.</p> - -<p>She did ask earnestly too for me, whom she ever spake -of as her dear uncle, and did send us her last farewell. -She did beg them to have her body opened after death, a -thing she had always strongly abhorred, to the end, as she -said to her sisters, that the cause of her death being more -evidently discovered, this should enable them and her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span> -daughter the better to take precautions and so preserve -their lives. “For I must admit,” she said, “a suspicion -that I was poisoned five years agone along with mine uncle -de Brantôme and my sister the Comtesse de Durtal; but -I did get the biggest piece. Yet would I willingly charge -no one with such a crime, for fear it should prove a false -accusation and my soul be weighted with the guilt thereof,—my -soul which I do earnestly desire may be free of all -blame, rancour, ill-will and sinfulness, that it may fly -straight to God its Creator.”</p> - -<p>I should never have done, if I were to repeat all; for -her discourse was full and long, and such as did show no -sign at all of an outwearied body or a weak and failing -spirit. As to this, there was a certain gentleman, her -neighbour, a witty talker and one she had loved to converse -and jest withal, who did present himself and to whom -she said: “Ha, ha! good friend! needs must give in this -fall, tongue and sword and all. So, fare you well!”</p> - -<p>Her physician and her sisters did wish her to take some -cordial medicine or other; but she begged them not to give -it her, “for these would merely,” she said, “be helping -to prolong my pain and put off my final rest.” So she did -ask them to leave her alone; and was again and again -heard to say: “Dear God! how gentle sweet is death! -who had ever dreamed it could be so?” Then, little by -little, yielding up her spirit very softly, she did close her -eyes, without making any of those hideous and fearsome -signs that death doth show in many at the supreme -moment.</p> - -<p>Madame de Bourdeille, her mother, was not long in -following her. For the melancholy she did conceive at the -death of this her noble daughter did carry her off in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span> -eighteen months, after a sickness lasting seven months, at -one time giving cause for good hope of recovery, at another -seeming desperate. But from the very first, herself -did declare she would never get the better of it, in no -wise fearing death, and never praying God to grant -her life and health, but only patience in her sufferings -and above that He would send her a peaceful death, and -one neither painful nor long drawn out. And so it befell; -for while we deemed her only fainted, she did give up her -soul so gently as that she was never seen to move either -foot or arm or limb, nor give any fearful and hideous -look; but casting a glance around with eyes that were as -fair as ever, she passed away, remaining as beautiful in -death as she had been when alive and in the plenitude of -her charms.</p> - -<p>A sore pity, verily, of her and of all fair ladies that die -so in the bloom of their years! Only I do believe this, that -Heaven, not content with those fair lights which from the -creation of the world do adorn its vault, is fain, beside -these, to have yet other new stars to still illumine us, as -erst they did when alive, with their beauteous eyes.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Another example, and then an end:</p> - -<p>You have seen in these last days the case of Madame de -<span class="no-wrap">Balagny,<a id="FNanchor_52" href="#Footnote_52" class="fnanchor">[52*]</a></span> -true sister in all ways of the gallant Bussy. -When Cambrai was besieged, she did all ever she could, -of her brave and noble heart, to prevent its being taken; -but after having in vain exhausted herself in every sort -of defensive means she could contrive, and seeing now -’twas all over and the town already in the enemy’s power, -and the citadel soon to go the same road, unable to endure -the smart and heart’s pang of evacuating her Principality<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span> -(for her husband and herself had gotten themselves to be -called Prince and Princess of Cambrai and Cambrésis,—a -title sundry nations did find odious and much too presumptuous, -seeing their rank was but that of plain -gentlefolk), did die of grief and so perished at the post -of honour. Some say she did die by her own hand, an act -deemed however more Pagan than Christian. Be this as it -may, she deserveth but praise for her gallantry and -bravery in all this, and for the rebuke she did administer -her husband at the time of her death, when she thus said -to him: “How can you endure, Balagny, to live on after -your most dismal fall of Fortune, to be a spectacle and -laughing stock to all the world, which will point the finger -of scorn at you, thus falling from great glory whereto -you had been elevated to the low place I see awaiting you, -and if you follow not my example? Learn then of me -to die nobly, and not survive your misfortunes and disgrace.” -’Tis a grand thing thus to see a woman teaching -us how to live,—and how to die. Yet would he neither -obey nor believe her; but at the end of seven or eight -months, quick forgetting the memory of this gallant lady, -he did re-wed with the sister of Madame de -<span class="no-wrap">Monceaux,<a id="FNanchor_53" href="#Footnote_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a></span> -no doubt a fair and honourable damosel,—manifesting to all -and sundry how that to keep alive was his one thing -needful, be it on what terms it may.</p> - -<p>Of a surety life is good and sweet; natheless is a noble -death greatly to be commended, such as was this lady’s, -who dying as she did of grief, doth appear of a contrary -complexion to that of some women, which are said to be of -an opposite nature to men, for that they do die of joy and -in joy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span></p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">10.</p> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_o_coloured.jpg" width="70" height="70" alt="" /> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Of</span> this sort of death I will allege only the -instance of Mlle. de Limueil, the elder, which -did die at Court, being one of the Queen’s -maids of honour. All through her sickness, -whereof she died, her tongue did never leave off wagging, -but she did talk continuously; for she was a very great -chatterbox, a sayer of very witty and telling scoffs, and -a very fine woman withal. When the hour of her death -was come, she did summon her chamber valet to her; for -each maid of honour hath her own. He was called Julian, -and did play excellently on the violin. “Julian,” saith -she to him, “come take your violin and go on playing -me the <i>Défaite des Suisses</i> (Switzers’ -<span class="no-wrap">Rout)<a id="FNanchor_54" href="#Footnote_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a></span> -till I be dead, -and play it as well as ever you can; and when you come to -the words, <i>Tout est perdu</i> (“All is lost”), play the passage -over four or five times as pathetically as you may.” This -the other did, while she joined in with her voice; and when -’twas come to <i>Tout est perdue</i>, she did repeat it over twice. -Then turning to the other side of the bed, she cried to her -friends: “Yes! all is lost this bout, and for good and all,” -and so died. Truly a death we may call gay and pleasant! -This tale I have of two of her companions, persons of -credit, who saw the mystery played out.</p> - -<p>If then there be women which do die of joy and in -joyous wise, no less are men to be found which have done -the like. Thus we read of that great Pope, Leo X., how -he did die of joy and delight, when he beheld us Frenchmen -driven out altogether from the State of Milan; so sore -a hate he bare us!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span></p> - -<p>The late Grand Prior, M. de Lorraine, did one time -conceive the wish to send a pair of his Galleys on an expedition -to the Levant under the command of Captain -Beaulieu, one of his Lieutenants, of the which I have spoke -somewhat in another place. Beaulieu went readily enough, -being a brave and valiant sailor. When he was toward the -Archipelago, he did fall in with a great Venetian ship, well -armed and well found, which he set him to fire upon. But -the ship did return his salute to some purpose; for at the -first volley she did carry clean away two of his banks of -oars, galley-slaves and all. Amongst other sore wounded -was his Lieutenant, a man named Captain Panier (“Basket”) -and a good fellow enough, which had time to cry out -this word only before he died: “Good-bye baskets all, -the harvest is done,”—a merry and a pleasant jest to -enliven his death withal! The end was, M. de Beaulieu had -to retire, this big ship proving beyond his power to overcome.</p> - -<p>The first year King Charles IX. was King, at the time of -the July edict when he was yet residing in the Faubourg -St. Germain, we did see the hanging of a certain gallows-bird -in that quarter, which had stolen six silver goblets -from the kitchen of the Prince de La Roche-sur-Yonne. -So soon as he was on the ladder, he did beg the hangman -to grant him a little space for a dying speech, and did take -up his parable, remonstrating with the folk and telling -them he was unjustly put to death, “for never,” said he, -“have I practised my thievings on the poor, on beggars -and the vulgar herd, but only on Princes and great Lords, -which be greater thieves than we, and do rob us every -day of their lives; and ’tis a good deed to recover again -of these folk what they do rob and filch from us.” Much<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span> -more diverting nonsense of the sort he did utter, the which -’twere but wasted time to repeat. Presently the priest -which was with him at the top of the ladder, turning to -the people, as we see done, did call upon them: “Good -sirs! this poor criminal doth recommend himself to your -prayers; we will say all together for him and his soul’s -peace a <i>Pater noster</i> and an <i>Ave Maria</i>, and will sing -a <i>Salve</i>.” Then just as the folk were answering, the said -poor criminal did drop his head, and fixing his eyes on -the priest, did start bellowing like a calf, and making -mock of the priest in the most absurd fashion; then lending -him a kick, did send him flying from the top of the -ladder to the bottom, so big a leap that he brake a leg. -“Ah, ha! Sir priest!” cried the fellow, “God’s truth, I -knew I should shift you. Well! you’ve got your gruel -now, my fine fellow.” Hearing him groan, he did set up -a loud and hearty guffaw; then this ended, did jump off -the ladder of his own motion and set himself a-swinging -into space. I dare swear the Court did laugh merrily at -the trick, albeit the poor priest had done himself a serious -hurt. A death, in good sooth, that can scarce be called -grave and melancholy!</p> - -<p>The late deceased M. d’Estampes had a fool called -Colin, a very diverting fellow. When his death was now -nigh, his master did enquire how Colin was doing. They -told him, “But poorly, my Lord; he is going to die, for -he will take nothing.”—“Come now,” said M. d’Estampes, -who was at the moment at table, “take him this soup, -and tell him, an if he will not take somewhat for love of -me, I will never love him more, for they inform me he -will take naught.” The message was delivered to Colin, -who, death already ’twixt the teeth of him, did make<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span> -answer, “And who be they which have told my Lord I -would take naught?” Then being surrounded by a countless -cloud of flies (for ’twas summer time), he began to -hunt them with his hand, as we see pages and lackeys and -children do, a-trying to catch them; and having taken two -with one swoop, he cried, making a funny gesture more -readily imagined than described, “Go tell my Lord,” said -he, “what I have taken for love of him, and that now I’m -away to the kingdom of the flies,” and so saying and -turning him round to the other side of the bed, the merry -rascal did expire.</p> - -<p>As to this, I have heard sundry philosophers declare -that folk do very often at the moment of death remember -them of those things they have the most loved in life, -and tell of these; so gentlemen, soldiers, sportsmen, artisans, -all in fact, very near, according to their former -occupation, do say some word thereof when a-dying. This -is a fact often noted no less in past time than at the -present day.</p> - -<p>Women in like wise do often out with a similar rigmarole,—whores -just as much as honest dames. So have I -heard speak of a certain lady, of very good quality too, -which on her death-bed did exult to spit out all about her -divers intrigues, naughtinesses and past pleasures, to such -purpose that she told more thereof than ever folk had -known before, albeit she had always been suspected as a -desperate wanton. This revelation she may have made, -either in a dream possibly, or else because truth, that can -never be hid, did constrain her thereto, or mayhap because -she was fain so to discharge her conscience. Anyhow, -she did actually, with clear conscience and true repentance, -confess and ask forgiveness for her sins, detailing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span> -them each and all, dotting i’s and crossing t’s, till all -was as clear as day. Verily, a curious thing, she should -have found leisure at that supreme hour so to be sweeping -her conscience clean of such a muckheap of scandal,—and -with such careful particularity.</p> - -<p>Another good lady I have heard of which was so apt -to dream every night, as that she would tell out by night -everything she did by day, in such wise that she did bring -sore suspicion of herself on her husband’s part, who did -presently set himself to listen to her talking and prattling -and pay heed to her dreams, whereby an ill fate did later -on befall her.</p> - -<p>’Tis no long while since a gentleman of the great world, -belonging to a province I will not name, did the same -thing on his death-bed, publishing abroad his loves and -lecheries, and specifying the ladies, wives and maids, -which he had had to do with, and in what places, and how -and under what circumstances. All this he did confess -loud out, asking God’s pardon therefor before everybody. -This last did worse than the woman just mentioned, for -whereas she did bring disrepute on herself only, he did -blacken several fair ladies’ good name. A fine pair of -gallants truly!</p> - -<p>’Tis said that misers, both male and female, have likewise -this trick of thinking much, in the hour of death, -on their hoard of crowns, forever talking of the same. -Some forty years agone there was a certain lady of -<span class="no-wrap">Mortemar,<a id="FNanchor_55" href="#Footnote_55" class="fnanchor">[55*]</a></span> -one of the richest ladies in all Poitou and one of the -most moneyed, which afterward when she came to die had -never a thought for aught but her crowns that were in her -closet. All the time of her sickness, she would rise from -her bed twenty times a day to go visit her treasure. At<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span> -the last, when she was now very nigh her end and the priest -was exhorting her to think of the life eternal, she would -make no other reply nor say any other word but only this: -“Give me my gown; the villains are robbing me.” Her -one thought was to rise and visit her strong-room, as she -did sore strive to do, but the effort was beyond the poor -lady. And so she died.</p> - -<p>I have let myself toward the end wander a little away -from the first intention of my present Discourse; but we -should bear in mind that after preaching and tragedy, -farce ever cometh next. With this word, I make an end.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter illowe25 mt4" style="max-width: 65.5em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/i_chapter_heads.jpg" alt="chapter head scroll work" /> -</div> - -<h2 class="nobreak p2" id="SIXTH_DISCOURSE56">SIXTH DISCOURSE<a id="FNanchor_56" href="#Footnote_56" class="fnanchor">[56*]</a></h2> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center"><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Calligraphy', serif;"> -Of how we should never speak ill of ladies, and of -the consequences of so doing.</span></p> - - -<p class="noindent center bold p2">1.</p> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_o_coloured.jpg" width="70" height="70" alt="" /> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">One</span> point there is to be noted in these fair and -honourable dames which do indulge in love, to -wit that whatsoever freedom they do allow -themselves, they will never willingly suffer -offence or scandal to be said of them by others, and if -any do say ill of them, they know very well how to avenge -the affront sooner or later. In a word, they be ready -enough to do the thing, but unwilling it should be spoken -about. And in very sooth ’tis not well done to bring ill -repute on an honourable lady, nor to divulge on her; -for indeed what have a number of other folks to do with -it, an if they <i>do</i> please their senses and their lovers’ to -boot?</p> - -<p>The Courts of our French Kings, and amongst others, -those of later years in especial, have been greatly given -to blazon abroad the faults of these worthy dames; and -I have known the days when was never a gallant about -the Palace but did discover some falsehood to tell against -the ladies, or at least find some true though scandalous -tale to repeat. All this is very blameworthy; for a man<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span> -ought never to offend the honour of fair ladies, and least -of all great ladies. And I do say this as well to such -as do reap enjoyment of ladies’ favour, as to them which -cannot taste the venison, and for this cause do decry the -same.</p> - -<p>The Courts of our later Kings have, I repeat it, been -overmuch given to this scandal-mongering and tale-bearing,—herein -differing widely from those of earlier Sovereigns, -their predecessors, alway excepting that of Louis -XI., that seasoned reprobate. Of him ’tis said that most -times he would eat at a common table, in open Hall, with -many gentlemen of his privy household and others withal; -and whoever could tell him the best and most lecherous -story of light women and their doings, this man was best -welcomed and made most of. Himself, too, showed no -scruple to do the like, for he was exceeding inquisitive -and loved to be informed of all secrets; then having found -these out, he would often divulge the same to companions, -and that publicly.[57] This was indeed a very grave scandal. -He had a most ill opinion of women, and an entire disbelief -in their chastity. After inviting the King of England to -Paris on a visit of good fellowship, and being taken at -his word by that Prince, he did straight repent him, and -invented an <i>alibi</i> to break off the engagement. “Holy -Christ!” he said on this occasion, “I don’t want him coming -here. He would certainly find some little smart, dainty -minx, that he would fall over head and ears in love with, -who would tempt him to stay longer and come oftener -than I should at all like.”</p> - -<p>Natheless of his <span class="no-wrap">wife<a id="FNanchor_57" href="#Footnote_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a></span> -he had a very high opinion, who -was a very modest and virtuous lady; and truly she had -need be so, for else, being a distrustful and suspicious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span> -Prince if ever there was one, he would very soon have -treated her like the rest. And when he died, he did charge -his son to love and honour his mother well, but not to be -ruled of her,—“not that she was not both wise and -chaste,” he declared, “but that she was more Burgundian -than <span class="no-wrap">French.”<a id="FNanchor_58" href="#Footnote_58" class="fnanchor">[58*]</a></span> -And indeed he did never really love her but -to have an heir of her; and when he had gotten this, he -made scarce any account of her more. He kept her at -the Castle of Amboise like a plain Gentlewoman in very -scanty state and as ill-dressed as any young country girl. -There he would leave her with few attendants to say her -prayers, while himself was away travelling and taking his -pleasure elsewhere. I leave you to imagine, such being -the opinion the King held of women, and such his delight -in speaking ill of them, how they were maltreated by every -evil tongue at Court. Not that he did otherwise wish them -ill for so taking their pleasure, nor that he desired to stop -their amusements at all, as I have seen some fain to do; -but his chiefest joy was to gird at them, the effect being -that these poor ladies, weighed down under such a load -of detraction, were often hindered from kicking of their -heels so freely as they would else have liked to do. Yet -did harlotry much prevail in his day; for the King himself -did greatly help to establish and keep up the same with -the gentlemen of his Court. Then was the only question, -who could make the merriest mock thereat, whether in -public or in privity, and who could tell the merriest tales -of the ladies’ wantonings and <i>wriggles</i> (this was his -phrase) and general naughtiness. True it is the names -of great ladies were left unmentioned, such being censured -only by guess-work and appearances; and I ween they -had a better time than some I have seen in the days of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span> -the late King, which did torment and chide and bully them -most strangely. Such is the account I have heard of that -good monarch, Louis XI., from divers old stagers.</p> - -<p>At any rate his son, King Charles VIII., which did -succeed him, was not of this complexion; for ’tis reported -of him now that he was the most reticent and fair-speaking -monarch was even seen, and did never offend man or -woman by the very smallest ill <span class="no-wrap">word.<a id="FNanchor_59" href="#Footnote_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a></span> -I leave you then to -think of the fair ladies of his reign, and all merry lovers -of the sex, did not have good times in those days. And -indeed he did love them right well and faithfully,—in fact -too well; for returning back from his Naples expedition -triumphant and victorious, he did find such excessive -diversion in loving and fondling the same, and pleasuring -them with so many delights at Lyons, in the way of tournaments -and tourneys which he did hold for love of them, -that clean forgetting his partisans which he had left in -that Kingdom, he did leave these to perish,—and towns -and kingdom and castles to boot, which yet held out, and -were stretching forth hands of supplication to him to send -them succour. ’Tis said moreover that overmuch devotion -to the ladies was the cause of his death, for by reason -of a too reckless abandonment to these pleasures, he did, -being of a very weakly frame of body, so enervate and -undermine his health as that this behaviour did no little -contribute to his death.</p> - -<p>Our good King Louis XII. was very respectful toward -the ladies; for as I have said in another place, he would -ever pardon all stage-players, as well as scholars and -clerks of the Palace in their guilds, no matter who they -did make free to speak of, excepting the Queen his wife, -and her ladies and damosels,—albeit he was a merry<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span> -gallant in his day and did love fair women as well as -other folk. Herein he did take after his grand-father, -Duke Louis of Orleans,—though not in this latter’s ill -tongue and inordinate conceit and boastfulness. And -truly this defect did cost him his life, for one day having -boasted loud out at a banquet whereat Duke John of -Burgundy, his cousin, was present, how that he had in -his private closet portraits of all the fairest ladies he -had enjoyed, as chance would have it, Duke John himself -did enter this same closet. The very first lady whose -picture he beheld there, and the first sight that met his -eyes, was his own most noble lady wife, which was at that -day held in high esteem for her beauty. She was called -Marguerite, daughter of Albert of Bavaria, Count of -Hainault and Zealand. Who was amazed then? who but -the worthy husband? Fancy him muttering low down -to himself, “Ha, ha! I see it all!” However, making no -outcry about the flea that really bit him, he did hide it all, -though hatching vengeance, be sure, for a later day, and -so picked a quarrel with him as to his regency and administration -of the Kingdom. Thus putting off his grievance -on this cause and not on any matter of his wife at -all, he had the Duke assassinated at the Porte Barbette of -Paris. Then presently his first wife being now dead (we -may suspect by poison), and right soon after, he -did wed in the second place the daughter of Louis, third -Duke of Bourbon. Mayhap this bargain was no better -than his first; for truly with folks which be meet for -horns, change bed-chamber and quarters as they may, they -will ever encounter the same.</p> - -<p>The Duke in this matter did very wisely, so to avenge -him of his adultery without setting tongues a-wagging<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span> -of his concerns or his wife’s, and ’twas a judicious piece -of dissimulation on his part. Indeed I have heard a very -great nobleman and soldier say, how that there be three -things a wise man ought never to make public, an if he -be wronged therein. Rather should he hold his tongue -on the matter, or better still invent some other pretext -to fight upon and get his revenge,—unless that is the -thing was so clear and manifest, and so public to many -persons, as that he could not possibly put off his action -onto any other motive but the true one.</p> - -<p>The first is, when ’tis brought up against a man that -he is cuckold and his wife unfaithful; another, when he is -taxed with buggery and sodomy; the third, when ’tis -stated of him that he is a coward, and that he hath basely -run away from a fight or a battle. All three charges be -most shameful, when a man’s name is mentioned in connection -therewith; so he doth fight the accusation, and -will sometimes suppose he can well clear himself and prove -his name to have been falsely smirched. But the matter -being thus made public, doth cause only the greater scandal; -and the more ’tis stirred, the more doth it stink, -exactly as vile stench waxeth worse, the more it is disturbed. -And this is why ’tis always best, if a man can -with honour, to hold his tongue, and contrive and invent -some new motive to account for his punishment of the -old offence; for such like grievances should ever be ignored -so far as may be, and never brought into court, or made -subjects of discussion or contention. Many examples -could I bring of this truth; but ’twould be over irksome -to me, and would unduly lengthen out my Discourse.</p> - -<p>So we see Duke John was very wise and prudent thus to -dissimulate and hide his horns, and on quite other grounds<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span> -take his revenge on his cousin, which had shamed him. -Else had he been made mock of, and his name blazoned -abroad. No doubt dread of such mockery and scandal -did touch him as nigh at heart as ever his ambition, and -made him act like the wise and experienced man of the -world he was.</p> - -<p>Now, however, to return from the digression which hath -delayed me, our King Francis I., who was a good lover -of fair ladies, and that in spite of the opinion he did express, -as I have said elsewhere, how that they were fickle -and inconstant creatures, would never have the same ill -spoke of at his Court, and was always most anxious they -should be held in all high respect and -<span class="no-wrap">honour.<a id="FNanchor_60" href="#Footnote_60" class="fnanchor">[60*]</a></span> -I have heard it related how that one time, when he was spending -his Lent at Meudon near Paris, there was one of the -gentlemen in his service there named the Sieur de Brizambourg, -of Saintogne. As this gentleman was serving the -King with meat, he having a dispensation to eat thereof, -his master bade him carry the rest, as we see sometimes -done at Court, to the ladies of the privy company, whose -names I had rather not give, for fear of offence. The -gentleman in question did take upon him to say, among -his comrades and others of the Court, how that these ladies -not content with eating of raw meat in Lent, were now -eating cooked as well,—and their belly full. The ladies -hearing of it, did promptly make complaint to the King, -which thereupon was filled with so great an anger, as that -he did instantly command the archers of the Palace guard -to take the man and hang him out of hand. By lucky -chance the poor gentleman had wind of what was a-foot -from one of his friends, and so fled and escaped in the -nick of time. But an if he had been caught, he would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span> -most certainly have been hanged, albeit he was a man of -good quality, so sore was the King seen to be wroth that -time, and little like to go back on his word. I have this -anecdote of a person of honour and credibility which was -present; and at the time the King did say right out, that -any man which should offend the honour of ladies, the same -should be hanged without benefit of clergy.</p> - -<p>A little while before, Pope <span class="no-wrap">Farnese<a id="FNanchor_61" href="#Footnote_61" class="fnanchor">[61*]</a></span> -being come to Nice, -and the King paying him his respects in state with all his -Court and Lords and Ladies, there were some of these last, -and not the least fair of the company, which did go to the -Pope for to kiss his slipper. Whereupon a gentleman did -take on him to say they had gone to beg his Holiness for a -dispensation to taste of raw flesh without sin or shame, -whenever and as much as ever they might desire. The -King got to know thereof; and well it was for the gentleman -he did fly smartly, else had he been hanged, as well -for the veneration due to the Pope as for the respect -proper to fair ladies.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">2.</p> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t_coloured.jpg" width="70" height="70" alt="" /> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">These</span> gentlemen were not so happy in their -speeches and interviews as was once the late -deceased M. d’Albanie. The time when Pope -Clement did visit Marseilles to celebrate the -marriage of his niece with M. d’Orleans, there were three -widow ladies, of fair face and honourable birth, which by -reason of the pains, vexations and griefs they suffered -from the absence of their late husbands and of those -pleasures that were no more, had come so low, and grown -so thin, weak and sickly, as that they did beseech M. d’Albanie,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span> -their kinsman, who did possess a good share of the -Pope’s favour, to ask of him dispensation for the three of -them to eat meat on prohibited days. This the said Duke -did promise them to do, and to that end did one day bring -them on a friendly footing to the Pope’s lodging. Meantime -he had warned the King of what was a-foot, telling -him he would afford him some sport. So having put him -up to the game, and the three ladies being on their knees -before his Holiness, M. d’Albanie took the word first, -saying in a low tone and in Italian, so that the ladies did -not catch his words: “Holy Father, see here before you -three widow ladies, fair to look on and very well born. -These same for the respect they bear toward their dead -husbands and the love they have for the children they have -borne to these, will not for aught in all the world marry -again and so wrong their husbands and children. But -whereas they be sometimes sore tempted by the pricks of -the flesh, they do therefore humbly beseech your Holiness -for leave to go with men without marriage, whenever and -wherever they shall find them under the said temptation.”—“What -say you, cousin?” cried the Pope. “Why! -’twould be against God’s own commandments, wherefrom -I can give no dispensation.” “Well! the ladies are here -before you, Holy Father, and if it please you to hear them -say their say.” At this one of the three, taking the word, -said: “Holy Father! we have besought M. d’Albanie to -make you our very humble petition for us three poor -women, and to represent to your Holiness our frailty and -our weakly complexion.”—“Nay! my daughters,” replied -the Pope, “but your petition is in no wise reasonable, for -the thing would be clean against God’s commandments.” -Then the widows, still quite ignorant of what M. d’Albanie<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span> -had told the Pope, made answer: “At the least, Holy -Father, may it please you give us leave three times a week, -without scandal to our name.”—“What!” exclaimed the -Pope, “give you leave to commit <i>il peccato di lussuria</i> -(the sin of lasciviousness?). I should damn mine own -soul; I cannot do it!” Hereupon the three ladies, perceiving -at last ’twas a case of scampishness and knavery, -and that M. d’Albanie had played a trick on them, declared, -“’Tis not of that we speak, Holy Father; we but -ask permission to eat meat on prohibited days.”—Hearing -these words, the Duc d’Albanie told them, “Nay! I -thought ’twas live flesh you meant, ladies!” The Pope -was quick to understand the knavery put on them, and -said with a dawning smile, “You have put these noble ladies -to the blush, my cousin; the Queen will be angered when -she doth hear of it.” The Queen did hear of it anon, but -made no ado, and found the tale diverting. The King -likewise did afterward make good mirth thereof with the -Pope; while the Holy Father himself, after giving them -his benediction, did grant them the dispensation they -craved, and dismissed them well content.</p> - -<p>I have been given the names of the three ladies concerned, -namely: Madame de Chasteau-Briant or Madame -de Canaples, Madame de Chastillon and the Baillive de -Caen, all three very honourable ladies. I have the tale -from sundry old frequenters of the Court.</p> - -<p>Madame <span class="no-wrap">d’Uzès<a id="FNanchor_62" href="#Footnote_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a></span> -did yet better, at the time when Pope -Paul III. came to Nice to visit King Francis. She was -then Madame du Bellay, and a lady which hath from her -youth up always had merry ways and spake many a witty -word. One day, prostrating herself at his Holiness’ feet, -she did make three supplications to him: first, that he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span> -grant her absolution, for that when yet a little maid, -in waiting on the Queen Regent’s majesty, and called by -the name of Tallard, she did lose her scissors while sewing -of her seam, and did make a vow to St. Allivergot to -perform the same, an if she found them. This she presently -did, yet did never accomplish her vow, not knowing -where the said Saint’s body lay. The second petition was -that he give her pardon forasmuch as, when Pope Clement -came to Marseilles, she being still Mlle. Tallard, she did -take one of the pillows of his Holiness’ bed, and did wipe -herself therewith in front and in rear, on the which his -Holiness did afterward rest his noble head and face. The -third was this, that the Sieur de Tays, because she did love -the same, but he loved not her, and the man is accursed -and should be excommunicated which loveth not again, if -he be loved.</p> - -<p>The Pope at first was sore astonished at these requests, -but having enquired of the King who she was, did learn her -witty ways, and laughed heartily over the matter with the -King. Yet from that day forth all she did was found -admirable, so good a grace did she display in all her ways -and words.</p> - -<p>Now never suppose this same great monarch was so -strict and stern in his respect for ladies, as that he did -not relish well enough any good stories told him concerning -them, without however any scandal-mongering or -decrying of their good name. Rather like the great and -highly privileged King he was, he would not that every -man, and all the vulgar herd, should enjoy like privileges -with himself.</p> - -<p>I have heard sundry relate how he was ever most anxious -that the noble gentlemen of his Court should never be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span> -without mistresses. If they won none such, he did deem -them simpletons and empty fools; while many a time he -would ask one Courtier or another the name of the lady -of his choice, and promise to do them good service in that -quarter, and speak well of their merits. So good-natured -a Prince was he and an affable. Oftentimes too, when he -did observe his gentlemen full of free discourse with their -mistresses, he would come up and accost them, asking -what merry and gallant words they were exchanging -with their ladies, and if he found the same not to his -liking, correcting them and teaching them better. With -his most intimate friends, he was no wise shy or sparing -to tell his stories and share his good things with them. -One diverting tale I have heard him tell, which did happen -to himself, and which he did later on repeat. This was of -a certain young and pretty lady new come to Court, the -which being little skilled in the ways of the world, did very -readily yield to the persuasions of the great folks, and in -especial those of the said monarch himself. One day when -he was fain to erect his noble standard and plant the same -in her fort, she having heard it said, and indeed begun -to note that when one gave a thing to the King, or took -aught from him and touched it, the person must first -kiss the hand for to take and touch it withal, did herself -without more ado fulfil the obligation and first very -humbly kissing her hand did seize the King’s standard -and plant it in the fort with all due humbleness. Then did -she ask him in cold blood, how he did prefer her to love -him, as a respectable and modest lady, or as a wanton. -No doubt he did ask her for the latter, for herein was she -more able to show herself more agreeable than as a modest -woman. And indeed he soon found out she had by no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span> -means wasted her time, both after the event and before it, -and all. When all was done, she would drop him a deep -curtsy, thanking him respectfully for the honour he had -done her, whereof she was all unworthy, often suggesting -to him at the same time some promotion for her husband. -I have heard the lady’s name, one which hath since grown -much less simple than at first she was, and is nowadays -cunning and experienced enough. The King made no ado -about repeating the tale, which did reach the ears of not -a few folks.</p> - -<p>This monarch was exceeding curious to hear of the love -of both men and women, and above all their amorous engagements, -and in especial what fine airs the ladies did -exhibit when at their gentle work, and what looks and -attitudes they did display therein, and what words they -said. On hearing all this, he would laugh frank and free, -but after would forbid all publishing abroad thereof and -any scandal making, always strongly recommending an -honourable secrecy on these matters.</p> - -<p>He had for his good follower herein that great, most -magnificent and most generous nobleman, the Cardinal de -Lorraine. Most generous I may well call him, for he had -not his like in his day; his free expenditure, his many -gracious gifts and kindnesses, did all bear witness thereof, -and above all else his charity toward the poor. He would -regularly bear with him a great game-bag, the which his -valet of the bed-chamber, who did govern his petty cash, -never failed to replenish, every morning, with three or four -hundred crowns. And as many poor folk as he met, he -would plunge his hand in the game-bag, and whatsoever -he drew out therefrom, without a moment’s thought, he -gave away, and without any picking or choosing. ’Twas<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span> -of him a poor blind man, as the Cardinal was passing in -the streets of Rome and was asked for an alms, and so did -throw him according to wont a great handful of gold, -said thus, crying out aloud in the Italian tongue: <i>O tu -sei Christo, o veramente el cardinal di Lorrena</i>,—“Either -you are Christ, or the Cardinal de Lorraine.” Moreover -if he was generous and charitable in this way, he was no -less liberal toward other folks as well, and chiefly where -fair ladies were concerned, whom he did easily attach to -him by this regale. For money was not so greatly abundant -in those days as it hath nowadays become, and for -this cause women were more eager after the same, and -every sort of merry living and gay attire.</p> - -<p>I have heard it said that ever on the arrival at Court of -any fair damsel or young wife that was handsome and -attractive, he would come instantly to greet the same, and -discoursing with her would presently offer to undertake -the training of her. A pretty trainer for sooth! I ween -the task was not so irksome an one as to train and break -some wild colt. Accordingly ’twas said at that time, was -scarce dame or damsel resident at Court or newly come -thither, but was caught and debauched by dint of her own -avariciousness and the largesse of the aforesaid Cardinal; -and few or none have come forth of that Court women -of chastity and virtue. Thus might their chests and big -wardrobes be seen for that time more full of gowns and -petticoats, of cloth of gold and silver and of silk, than -be nowadays those of our Queens and great Princesses of -the present time. I know this well, having seen the thing -with mine own eyes in two or three instances,—fair ladies -which had gotten all this gear by their dainty body; for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span> -neither father, mother nor husband could have given them -the same in anything like such wealth and abundance.</p> - -<p>Nay! but I should have refrained me, some will say, -from stating so much of the great Cardinal, in view of his -honoured cloth and most reverend and high estate. Well! -his King would have it so, and did find pleasure therein; -and pleasure one’s Sovereign, a man is dispensed of all -scruple, whether in making love or other matters, provided -always they be not dishonourable. Accordingly he did -make no ado about going to the wars, and hunting and -dancing, taking part in mascarades, and the like sports -and pastimes. Moreover he was a man of like flesh and -blood with other folk, and did possess many great merits -and perfections of his own, enough surely to outweigh and -cloak this small fault,—if fault it is to be called, to love -fair ladies!</p> - -<p>I have heard the following tale told of him in connection -with the proper respect due to ladies. He was naturally -most courteous toward them; yet did he once forget his -usual practice, and not without reason enough, with the -Duchess of Savoy, Donna Beatrix of Portugal. Travelling -on one occasion through Piedmont, on his way to -Rome on his Royal master’s service, he did visit the -Duke and Duchess. After having conversed a sufficient -while with the Duke, he went to find the noble Duchess -in her chamber for to pay his respects to her; arrived -there and on his coming forward toward her, her Grace, -who was haughtiness itself, if ever was such in the world, -did offer him her hand to kiss. The Cardinal, loath to put -up with this affront, did press forward to kiss her on the -mouth, while she did draw back all she could. Then losing -all patience and crowding up yet nearer to her, he takes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span> -her fairly by the head, and in spite of her struggles did -kiss her two or three times over. And albeit she did protest -sore with many cries and exclamations both in Portuguese -and Spanish, yet had she to endure this treatment. -“What!” the Cardinal cried out; “is it to me this sort -of state and ceremony is to be used? I do kiss right -enough the Queen of France my Mistress, which is the -greatest Queen in all the world, and I am not to kiss you, -a dirty little slip of a duchess! I would have you to -know I have bedded with ladies as fair as you, and as -good to boot, and of better birth than ever you be.” And -mayhap he spoke but the truth. Anyway the Princess -was ill-advised to make this show of haughtiness toward -a Prince of so high an house, and above all towards a -Cardinal; for there is never one of this exalted rank in -the Church, but doth liken himself with the greatest Princes -of Christendom. The Cardinal too was in the wrong -to take so harsh reprisals; but ’tis ever very irksome to a -noble and generous spirit, of whatever estate and calling, -to put up with an affront.</p> - -<p>Another of the same rank, the Cardinal de Granvelle, -did likewise well know how to make the Comte d’Egmont -feel his displeasure on the same account, and others too -whose names be at the tip of my pen, but whom I will pass -over for fear of confusing my subject overmuch, though -I may return again to them later. I do now confine myself -to our late King Henri le Grand, which monarch was -exceeding respectful to the ladies, whom he was used to -treat with all reverence, and did alway hate gainsayers -of their honour. And when so great King doth so serve -fair ladies, a monarch of such puissance and repute, very -loath for sure be all men of his Court to open mouth for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span> -to speak ill of the same. Beside, the Queen mother did -exert a strong hand to guard her ladies and damsels, and -make calumniators and satirists feel the weight of her -resentment, when once they were found out, seeing how -she had been as little spared by such as any of her ladies. -Yet ’twas never herself she did take heed for so much as -others, seeing, she was used to declare, how she did know -her soul and conscience pure and void of offence, and could -afford to laugh at these foul-mouthed writers and scandal-mongers. -“Why! let them say their worst,” she would say, -“and have their trouble for nothing”; yet whenever she -did catch them at it, she knew how to make them smart -soundly.</p> - -<p>It befell the elder Mlle. de Limeuil, at her first coming -to Court, to compose a satire or lampoon (for she had -the gift of witty speech and writing) on the Court generally, -not however so much scandalous in its matter as -diverting in form. Be assured the King’s mother did -make her pay for this well and feel the whip smartly, as -well as two of her comrades which were in the secret to -her majesty, through the house of Turenne, which is allied -to that of Boulogne, she would have been chastised -with every ignominy, and this by express order of the -King, who had the most particular and curious dislike of -such writings.</p> - -<p>I do remember me of an incident connected with the -Sieur de <span class="no-wrap">Matha,<a id="FNanchor_63" href="#Footnote_63" class="fnanchor">[63*]</a></span> -a brave and gallant gentleman much -loved of the King, and a kinsman of Madame de Valentinois, -which did ever have some diverting quarrel and -complaint against the damsels and dames of the Court, -of so merry a complexion was he. One day having attacked -one of the Queen’s maids of honour, another,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span> -known by the name of “big Méray,” was for taking up the -cudgels for her companion. The only reply Matha did -vouchsafe her was this: “Go to! I’m not attacking you, -Méray; you’re a great war-horse, and should be -<span class="no-wrap">barded!”<a id="FNanchor_64" href="#Footnote_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a></span> -For insooth she was the very biggest woman, maid or -wife, I have ever seen. She did make complaint of the -speech to the Queen, saying the other had called her a -mare and a great war-horse to be barded. The Queen -was so sore angered that Matha had to quit the Court -for some days, spite of all the favour he had with his kinswoman -Madame de Valentinois; and for a month after -his return durst not set foot in the apartment of the -Queen and her maids of honour.</p> - -<p>The Sieur de Gersay did a much worse thing toward -one of the Queen’s maids of honour, to whom he was ill-disposed, -for to avenge him upon her, albeit he was never -at a loss for ready words; for indeed he was as good as -most at saying a witty thing or telling a good story, and -above all when spreading a scandal, of which art and -mystery he was a past master; only scandal-mongering -was at that time strongly forbidden. One day when he -was present at the after dinner assembly of the Queen -along with the other ladies and gentlemen of her Court, -the custom then being that the company should not sit -except on the floor when the Queen was present, de Gersay -having taken from the pages and lackeys a ram’s pizzle -they were playing with in the Office Court of the Palace, -sitting down beside her he did slip the same into the girl’s -frock, and this so softly as that she did never notice it,—that -is not until the Queen did proceed to rise from her -chair to retire to her private apartment. The girl, whose -name I had better not give, did straight spring up, and as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span> -she rose to her feet, right in front of the Queen, doth give -so lusty a push to the strange plaything she had about -her, as that it did make six or seven good bounces along -the floor, for all the world as though it were fain of its -own accord to give the company a free exhibition and -some gratuitous sport. Who more astonished than the -poor girl,—and the Queen to boot, for ’twas well in front -of her with naught to prevent her view? “Mother of -God!” cried the Queen, “and what is that, my child; -what would you be at with that thing?” The unhappy -maid of honour, blushing and half fainting with confusion, -began to cry out she knew not what it was, that -some one who did wish her ill had played this horrid -trick on her, and how she thought ’twas none other -but de Gersay which had done it. The latter waiting -only to see the beginning of the sport and the first few -bounces, was through the door by now. They sent to -call him back, but he would never come, perceiving the -Queen to be so very wroth, yet stoutly denying the whole -thing all the while. So he was constrained for some days -to fly her resentment, and the King’s too; and indeed had -he not been, along with <span class="no-wrap">Fontaine-Guérin,<a id="FNanchor_65" href="#Footnote_65" class="fnanchor">[65*]</a></span> -one of the Dauphin’s -prime favourites, he would assuredly have been in -sore straits, albeit naught could ever be proven against -him except by guess-work, and notwithstanding the fact -that the King and his courtiers and not a few ladies could -not refrain them from laughing at the incident, though -they durst not show their amusement in view of the -Queen’s displeasure. For was never a lady in all the -world knew better than she how to startle folk with a -sudden and sore rebuke.</p> - -<p>A certain honourable gentleman of the Court and a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span> -maid of honour did one time, from the good affection they -erst had with one another, fall into hate and sore quarrel; -this went so far that one day the young lady said loud -out to him in the Queen’s apartment, the twain being in -talk as to their difference: “Leave me alone, Sir, else I -will tell what you told me.” The gentleman, who had informed -her in strict confidence of something about a very -great lady, and fearing ill would befall him from it, and -at the least he would be banished the Court, without more -ado did answer back,—for he was ready enough of speech: -“If you do tell what I have told you, I will tell what I -have done to you.” Who more astonished than the lady -at this? yet did she contrive to reply: “Why! what have -you done to me?” The other did reply: “Why! what -have I told you?” Thereupon doth the lady make answer: -“Oh! I know very well what you told me.” To -which the other: “Oh! and I know very well what I did -to you.” The lady doth retort, “But I’ll prove quite -clearly what you told me;” and the other: “And I’ll -prove clearer still what I did to you.” At long last, after -sticking a long while at this counterchange of reply and -retort in identical form and almost the same words, they -were parted by the gentlemen and ladies there present, -albeit these got much diversion from the dispute.</p> - -<p>This disputation having come to the Queen’s ears, the -latter was in great wrath thereanent, and was fain at -once to know the words of the one and the deeds of the -other, and did send to summon them. But the pair of -them, seeing ’twas to be made a serious matter, did consult -and straight agree together to say, whenas they did -appear before the Queen, how that ’twas merely a game -their so disputing with each other, and that neither had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span> -she been told aught by the gentleman, nor yet had he -done aught to her. So did they balk the Queen, which -did none the less chide and sore blame the courtier, on -the ground that his words were over free and like to make -scandal. The man sware to me twenty times over that, -and if they had not so made it up and agreed in a tale, -and the lady had actually revealed the secret he had told -her, which might well have turned to his great injury, he -would have resolutely maintained he had done his will on -her, challenging them to examine her, and if she should -not be found virgin, that ’twas himself had deflowered -her. “Well and good!” I answered, “but an if they had -examined her and found her a maid, for she was quite -young and unmarried, you would have been undone, and -’twould have gone hard but you had lost your life.”—“Body -of me!” he did return, “that’s just what I should -have liked the best, that they should have examined the -jade. I was well assured of my tale, for I knew quite well -who had deflowered her, and that another man had been -there right enough, though not I,—to my much regret. -So being found already touched and soiled, she had been -undone, and I avenged, and her good name ruined to boot. -I should have got off with marrying her, and afterward -ridding me of her, as I could.” And these be the risks -poor maids and wives have to run, whether they be in the -right o’t or the wrong!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span></p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">3.</p> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_i_coloured16.jpg" width="70" height="70" alt="" /> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">I did</span> one time know a lady of very high rank -which did actually find herself pregnant by -the act of a very brave and gallant Prince;[66] -’twas said however the thing was done under -promise of marriage, though later the contrary was ascertained -to be the case. King Henri was the first to -learn the facts, and was sore vexed thereat, for she was -remotely connected with his Majesty. Any way, without -making any further noise or scandal about the matter, -he did the same evening at the Royal ball, chose her -as his partner and lead her out to dance the -<span class="no-wrap">torch-dance<a id="FNanchor_66" href="#Footnote_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a></span> -with him; and afterward did make her dance with another -the <i>galliard</i> and the rest of the “brawls,” wherein she did -display her readiness and dexterity better than ever, -while her figure had all its old grace and was so well -arranged for the occasion as that she gave no sign of her -bigness. The end was that the King, who had kept his -eyes fixed on her very strictly all the time, did perceive -naught, no more than if she had not been with child at -all, and did presently observe to a great nobleman, one -of his chief familiars: “The folk were most ill-advised -and spiteful to have gone about to invent the tale that -yonder poor girl was big with child; never have I seen -her in better grace. The spiteful authors of the calumny -have told a most wicked falsehood.” Thus this good -King did shield the noble lady and poor girl, and did repeat -the same thing to his Queen whenas he was to bed -with her that night. But the latter, mistrusting the thing, -did have her examined the next morning, herself being -present, and she was found to be six months gone in pregnancy;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span> -after she did confess and avow the whole truth to -the Queen, saying ’twas done under pretence of marriage -to follow. Natheless the King, who was all good nature, -had the secret kept as close as ever possible, so as not to -bring shame and scandal on the damsel, though the Queen -for her part was very wrathful. Any way, they did send -her off very quietly to the home of her nearest kinsfolk, -where she was presently brought to bed of a fine boy. -Yet was the lad so unfortunate that he could never get -him recognized by his putative father; the trial of the -case did drag out to great length, but the mother could -never get aught decided in her favour.</p> - -<p>Now good King Henri did love merry tales as well as -any of his predecessors, but he would never have scandal -brought on ladies therein nor their secrets divulged. In -fact, the King himself, who was of amorous complexion -enough, when he was away to visit the ladies, would ever -go thither stealthily and under cover all ever he could, -to the end they might be free of suspicion and ill-repute. -But an if there was any that was discovered, ’twas never -by his fault or with his consent, but rather by the fair -dame’s doing. So have I heard of one lady of the sort, -of a good house, named Madame -<span class="no-wrap">Flamin,<a id="FNanchor_67" href="#Footnote_67" class="fnanchor">[67*]</a></span> -a Scotswoman, -which being gotten with child by the King, did make no -sort of secret of it, but would say it out boldly in her -French Scotch thus: “I hae dune what I could, sae that -the noo, God be thankit, I am wi’ bairn by the King, -whilk doth mak me an honoured and unco happy woman. -And I maun say the blude Royal hath in it something -of a more douce and tasty humour than the ordinar, I -do find myself in sic gude case,—no to speak of the fine -bits o’ presents forthcoming.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span></p> - -<p>Her <span class="no-wrap">son,<a id="FNanchor_68" href="#Footnote_68" class="fnanchor">[68*]</a></span> -that she had presently, was the late Grand -Prior of France, who was killed lately at Marseilles,—a -sore pity, for he was a very honourable, brave and gallant -nobleman, and did show the same clearly at his death. -Moreover he was a man of property and sense, and the -least tyrannical Governor of a District of his own day -or since. Provence could tell us that, and beside that he -was a right magnificent Seigneur and of a generous expenditure. -He was indeed a man of means, good sense and -wise moderation.</p> - -<p>The said lady, with others I have heard of, held the -opinion that to lie with one’s Sovereign was no disgrace; -those be harlots indeed which do abandon their bodies to -petty folk, but not where great Kings and gallant gentlemen -be in question. Like that Queen of the Amazons I -have named above, which came a journey of three hundred -leagues for to be gotten with child by Alexander the -Great, to have good issue therefrom. Yet there be those -who say one man is as good as another for this!</p> - -<p>After King Henri came Francis II., whose reign however -was so short as that spiteful folks had no time even -to begin speaking ill of ladies. Not that we are to believe, -if he had enjoyed a long reign, that he would have -suffered aught of the kind at his Court; for he was a -monarch naturally good-natured, frank, and not one to -take pleasure in scandal, as well as being most respectful -toward ladies and very ready to pay them all honour. -Beside he had the Queen his wife and the Queen his mother, -and his good uncles to boot, all of which were much for -checking these chatterers and loose-tongued gentry. I -remember me how once, the King being at Saint-Germain -en Laye, about the month of August or September, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span> -fancy took him one evening to go see the stags in their -rut in that noble forest of Saint-Germain, and he did -take with him certain princes, his chief familiars, and -some great ladies, both wives and maids, whose names I -could very well give, an if I chose. Nor was there lacking -one fain to make a talk of it, and say this did not smack -of his womankind being exactly virtuous or chaste, to be -going to see these lovemakings and wanton ruttings of -beasts, seeing how the appetite of Venus must heat them -more and more at sight of such doings. In fact, so sore -will they be longing to taste, that sure the water or saliva -will be coming to their mouth, in such wise that no other -remedy will there be thereafter for to get rid of the same -except only by some other discharge of saliva, or something -else. The King heard of this speech, and the noblemen -and ladies which had accompanied him thither. Be -well assured, an if the gentleman had not straightway -decamped, he had fared very ill; nor did he ever again -appear at Court till after that King’s death and the end -of his reign. Many scandalous pamphlets there were put -forth against them which were then in direction of the -Government of the Kingdom; but there was never an one -that did so hurt and offend as a satire entitled -<i>The</i> <span class="no-wrap"><i>Tiger</i><a id="FNanchor_69" href="#Footnote_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a></span>—modelled -on the first invective of Cicero against Catiline,—especially -as it spake freely of the amours of a -very great and fair lady, and a great nobleman, her kinsman. -An if the gallant author had been caught, though -he had had an hundred thousand lives, he had surely lost -them every one; for the two great folks, lady and gentleman, -were so exceeding vexed and angered as that they -did all but die of despair.</p> - -<p>This King Francis II. was not subject to love like his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span> -predecessors; and truly he would have been greatly to -blame, seeing he had to wife the fairest woman in all the -world and the most amiable. And when a man hath such -a wife, he doth not go seeking fortune elsewhere as others -use, else is he a wretch indeed. And not so going, little -recks he to speak ill of ladies, or indeed to speak well -either, or to speak at all about them, except always of -his own good lady at home. ’Tis a doctrine I have heard -a very honourable personage maintain: natheless have I -known it prove false more than once.</p> - -<p>King Charles came next to the throne, which by reason -of the tenderness of his years, did pay no heed at the -beginning of his reign to the ladies, but did rather give -his thoughts to spending his time in youthful sports and -exercises. Yet did the late deceased M. de Sipierre his -Governour and <span class="no-wrap">Tutor,<a id="FNanchor_70" href="#Footnote_70" class="fnanchor">[70*]</a></span> -a man who was in my opinion -and in that of every one else, the most honourable and -most courteous gentleman of his time, and the most gentle -and respectful toward women, did so well teach the same -lesson to the King his master and pupil, as that he was -as ready to honour ladies as any of the kings his predecessors. -For never, whether as boy or man, did he see a -woman, no matter how busied he was in other matters, -whether he was hurrying on or standing still, on foot or -on horse-back, but he would straight salute the same and -most respectfully doff his cap. Whenas he came to an -age for love, he did serve several very honourable dames -and damsels I have known of, but all this with so great -honour and respect as that he might have been the humblest -gentleman of the Court.</p> - -<p>In his reign the great lampoonists did first begin their -vogue, and amongst them even some very gallant gentlemen<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span> -of the Court, whose names I will not give, did -strangely abuse the ladies, both in general and in particular, -and even some of the greatest in the land. For this -some of them have found themselves entangled in downright -fierce quarrels, and have come off second best,—not -indeed that they did avow the truth, for they did rather -always deny they had aught to do with it. If they had -confessed, they had had heavy payment to make, and the -King would certainly have let them feel the weight of his -displeasure, inasmuch as they did attack ladies of over -high a rank. Others did show the best face they could, -and did suffer the lie to be cast in their teeth a thousand -times over, conditionally as we may say and vaguely, and -had to swallow a thousand affronts, drinking the same in -as sweetly as though they had been milk, without daring -to retort one word, else had their lives been at risk. ’Tis -a thing which hath oft given me great surprise that suchlike -folks should set them to speak ill of their neighbours, -yet suffer others to speak ill of themselves so sorely and -to their very face. Yet had these men the repute of being -gallant swordsmen; but in this matter they would -aye endure all but the extremest insult bravely and without -one word of protest.</p> - -<p>I do remember me of a lampoon which was made against -a very great lady, a widow, fair and of most honourable -birth, which did desire to marry again with a very great -Prince, a young and handsome -<span class="no-wrap">man.<a id="FNanchor_71" href="#Footnote_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a></span> -There were certain -persons, (and I have accurate knowledge of the same), -who disliking this marriage, and to dissuade the Prince -therefrom, did concoct a lampoon on her, the most scandalous -I have ever seen, in the which they did compare -her to five or six of the chiefest harlots of Antiquity, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span> -the most notorious and wanton, declaring how that she -did overtop them each and all. The actual authors of -the said satire did present it to the Prince, professing -however that it did emanate from others, and that themselves -had merely been given it. The Prince, having -looked at it, gave the lie to its statements and hurled a -thousand vague and general insults at them which had -writ it; yet did they pass all over in silence, brave and -valiant men though they were. The incident however did -give the Prince pause a while, seeing the lampoon did contain -several definite revelations and point direct at some -unpleasant facts; natheless after the lapse of two years -more was the marriage accomplished.</p> - -<p>The King was so great-hearted and kindly that he was -never inclined to favour folks of this kidney. To pass a -spicy word or two with them aside, this he did like well -enough; but he was always most unwilling the common -herd should be fed on such diet, declaring that his Court, -which was the best ennobled and most illustrious by reason -of great and noble ladies of any in all the world, -should never, such being its high repute, be cheapened -and foully aspersed by the mouth of suchlike reckless and -insolent babblers. ’Twas well enough to speak so of the -courtesans of Rome, or Venice, or other the like places, -but not of the Court of France; it might be permitted to -do the thing, it was not permitted to speak thereof.</p> - -<p>Thus do we see how this Sovereign was ever respectful -toward ladies, nay! so much so that in his later days when -some I know of were fain to give him an evil impression of -certain very great, as well as most fair and honourable -dames, for that these had intermeddled in some highly -important matters of his concern, yet would he never<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span> -credit aught against them; but did accord them as good -favour as ever, dying at the last in their very good graces -and with many a tear of their shedding to wet his corpse. -And they did find good cause to say so too, so soon as -ever King Henri III. came to succeed him, who by reason -of sundry ill reports he had been told of these ladies when -in Poland, did not make near so much of them as he had -done aforetime. Both over these and over some others -that I know of, he did exercise a very strict censorship, -and one we may be sure that made him not more liked; and -indeed I do believe they did him no little hurt, and contributed -in part to his evil fortune and final ruin. I -could allege sundry special facts in proof hereof, but I -had rather pass them over,—saying only this much, that -women generally are keen set on taking vengeance. It -may be long in coming, but they do execute it at the -<span class="no-wrap">last.<a id="FNanchor_72" href="#Footnote_72" class="fnanchor">[72*]</a></span> -On the contrary many men’s revenge is just the opposite -in its nature, for ardent and hot enough at its first beginning -to deceive all, yet by dint of temporising and putting -off and long delays it doth grow cool and come to naught. -And this is why ’tis meet to guard against the first attempt, -and take time by the forelock in parrying the -blows; but with women the first fury and attempt, and the -temporising and delay, do both last out to the end,—that -is in some women, though hardly many.</p> - -<p>Some have been for excusing the King for the war he -made on women in the way of crying them down, by saying -’twas in order to curb and correct vice,—as if the -curb were of any of the slightest use in these cases, seeing -woman is so conditioned of nature as that the more this -thing is forbid her, the more ardent is she after the same, -and to set a watch on her is just labour lost. So in actual<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span> -fact myself have seen how, for all he could do, they were -never turned out of their natural road.</p> - -<p>Several ladies that I wot well enough, did he love and -serve with all due respect and very high honour,—and -even a certain very great and fair -<span class="no-wrap">Princess,<a id="FNanchor_73" href="#Footnote_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a></span> -of whom he -had fallen so deep in love before his going into Poland, -that after he became King, he did resolve to wed the same, -although she was already married to a great and gallant -Prince, but one that was in rebellion against him and had -fled to a foreign land to gather an army and make war -upon him. But at the moment of his return to France, -the lady died in child-birth. Her death alone did hinder -the marriage, for he was firm set thereon. He would certainly -have married her by favour and dispensation of -the Pope, who would not have refused him his consent, -being so great a Monarch as he was, and for sundry other -reasons that may be readily imagined.</p> - -<p>Others again he did make love to only for to bring the -same into disparagement. Of such I wot of one, a great -lady, in whose case, for the displeasures her husband had -wrought him, and not able otherwise to get at him, the -King did take his revenge on his wife, whom he did after -publish abroad for what she was in the presence of a -number of folk. Yet was this vengeance mild and merciful -after all, for in lieu of death he did give her life.</p> - -<p>Another I wot of, which for overmuch playing the wanton, -as also for a displeasure she did the King, the latter -did of set purpose pay court to. Anon without any vast -deal of persuasion, she did grant him an assignation in a -garden, the which he failed not to keep. But he would -have naught else to do with her (so some folk say, but be -sure he did find something to do with her right enough)<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span> -but only to have her so seen offering herself in open market, -and then to banish her from the Court with ignominy.</p> - -<p>He was anxious and exceeding inquisitive to know the -life of all and every fair lady of his Court, and to penetrate -their secret wishes. ’Tis said he did sometimes reveal -one or other of his successes with women to sundry -of his most privy intimates. Happy they! for sure the -leavings of suchlike great monarchs must needs be very -tasty morsels.</p> - -<p>The ladies did fear him greatly, as I have myself seen. -He would either reprimand them personally, when needful, -or else beg the Queen his mother so to do, who on her -part was ready enough at the work. ’Twas not however -that she did favour scandal-mongers, as I have shown -above in the little examples I have there given. And paying -such heed as she did to these and showing so great -displeasure against them, what was she not bound to do -others which did actually compromise the good name and -honour of her ladies?</p> - -<p>This monarch again was so well accustomed from his -earliest years, as myself have seen, to hear tales of ladies -and their gallantries (and truly myself have told him one -or two such), and to repeat them too,—yet alway in -secret, for fear the Queen his mother should learn thereof, -for she would never have him tell such stories to any -others than herself, that she might check the same,—so -well accustomed was he to all this, that coming to riper -years and full liberty, he did never lose the habit. And -in this wise he did know how they did all live at his Court -and in his Kingdom,—or at the least many of them, and -especially the great ladies of rank, as well as if he had -frequented them every one. And if any there were which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span> -were new come to Court, accosting these most courteously -and respectfully, yet would he tell them over such tales -as that they would be utterly amazed at heart to know -where he had gotten all his information, though all the -while denying and protesting against the whole budget to -his face. And if he did divert himself after this fashion, -yet did he not fail, in other and more weighty matters, to -apply his visit to such high purpose as that folk have -counted him the greatest King which for an hundred -years hath been in France, as I have writ elsewhere in a -chapter composed expressly upon this -<span class="no-wrap">Sovereign.<a id="FNanchor_74" href="#Footnote_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a></span></p> - -<p>Accordingly I do now say no more about him, albeit it -may be objected to me that I have been but chary of examples -of his character on this point, and that I should -say more, an if I be so well informed. Yea! truly, I do -know tales enough, and some of them high-spiced; but I -wish not to be a mere chronicler of news whether of the -Court or of the world at large. Beside, I could never -cloak and cover up these my tales so featly but that folk -would see through them, and scandal come therefrom.</p> - -<p>Now these traducers of fair ladies be of divers sorts. -Some do speak ill of women for some displeasure these -have done them, though all the while they be as chaste as -any in all the world, and instead of the pure and beauteous -angel they really resemble do make out a picture -of a devil all foul and ugly with wickedness. Thus an -honourable gentleman I have both seen and known, did -most abominably defame a very honourable and virtuous -lady for a slight affront she had put upon him, and did -sorely wreak his displeasure on her. He would say thus: -“I know quite well I am in the wrong, and do not deny -the lady to be really most chaste and virtuous. But be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span> -it who it may, the woman which shall have affronted me -in the smallest degree, though she were as chaste and pure -as the Blessed Virgin herself, seeing I can in no other way -bring her to book, as I would with a man, I will say every -evil gallows thing I can think of concerning her.” Yet -surely God will be angered at such a wretch.</p> - -<p>Other traducers there be, which loving ladies and failing -to overcome their virtue and get aught out of them, -do of sheer despite proclaim them public wantons. Nay! -they will do yet worse, saying openly they have had their -will of them, but having known them and found them too -exceeding lustful, have for this cause left them. Myself -have known many gentlemen of this complexion at our -French Kings’ Courts. Then again there is the case of -women quitting right out their pretty lovers and bed -favourites, but who presently, following the dictates of -their fickleness and inconstancy, grow sick again and -enamoured of others in their stead; whereupon these same -lovers, in despite and despair, do malign and traduce -these poor women, there is no saying how bitterly, going -so far even as to relate detail by detail their naughtinesses -and wanton tricks which they have practised together, -and to make known their blemishes which they have on -their naked bodies, to win the better credence to their tale.</p> - -<p>Other men there be which, in despite because ladies do -give to others what they refuse to them, do malign them -with might and main, and have them watched and spied -upon and observed, to the end they may afford the world -the greater signs and proofs of their true speaking.</p> - -<p>Others again there be, which, fairly stung with jealousy, -without other cause than this, do speak ill of those -men whom women love the most, and of the very women<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span> -whom they themselves love fondly until they see their -faults fully revealed. And this is one of the chiefest effects -of jealousy. Yet are such traducers not so sore to -blame as one would at first say they were; for this their -fault must be set down to love and jealousy; twin brother -and sister of one and the same birth.</p> - -<p>Other traducers there be which are so born and bred to -backbiting, as that rather than not backbite some one or -other, they will speak ill of their own selves. Now, think -you ’tis likely ladies’ honour will be spared in the mouth -of folks of this kidney? Many suchlike have I seen at the -Courts of our Kings, which being afeared to speak of men -by reason of their sword play, would raise up scandal -around the petticoats of poor weak women, which have -no other means of reprisal but tears, regrets and empty -words. Yet have I known not a few which have come off -very ill at this game; for there have been kinsmen, brothers, -friends, lovers of theirs, even husbands, which have -made many repent of their spite, and eat and swallow -down their foul words.</p> - -<p>Finally, did I but tell of all the diverse sorts of detractors -of ladies, I should never have done.</p> - -<p>An opinion I have heard many maintain as to love is -this: that a love kept secret is good for naught, an if it -be not in some degrees manifest,—if not to all, at the least -to a man’s most privy friends. But an if it cannot be -told to all, yet at the least must some show be made -thereof, whether by display of favours, wearing of fair -ladies’ liveries and colours, or acts of knightly prowess, -as tiltings at the ring, tourneys, mascarades, fights in the -lists, even to fights in good earnest when at the wars.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span> -Verily the content of a man is great at these satisfactions.</p> - -<p>For to tell truth, what would it advantage a great Captain -to have done a fine and signal exploit of war, if not -a word were said and naught known thereof? I ween -’twould be a mortal vexation to him. The like would -rightly seem to be the case with lovers which do love -nobly,—as some at any rate maintain. And of this opinion -was that prince of lovers, M. de Nemours, the paragon -of all knighthood; for truly if ever Prince, great -Lord or simple gentleman, hath been fortunate in love, -’twas he. He found no pleasure in hiding his successes -from his most privy friends, albeit from the general he -did keep the same so secret, as that only with much difficulty -could folk form a judgment thereanent.</p> - -<p>In good sooth, for married ladies is the revealing of -such matters highly dangerous. On the other hand for -maids and widows, which are to marry, ’tis of no account; -for that the cloak and pretext of a future marriage doth -cover up all sins.</p> - -<p>I once knew a very honourable gentleman at -<span class="no-wrap">Court,<a id="FNanchor_75" href="#Footnote_75" class="fnanchor">[75*]</a></span> -which being lover of a very great lady, and finding himself -one day in company of a number of his comrades in discourse -as to their mistresses, and agreeing together to -reveal the favours received of them to each other, the said -gentleman did all through refuse to declare his mistress, -and did even feign quite another lady to be his dear, and -so threw dust in their eyes,—and this although there was -present in the group a great Prince, which did conjure -him to tell the truth, having yet some suspicion of the -secret intrigue he was engaged in. But neither he nor his -companions could draw anything more out of him, although<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span> -in his inmost heart he did curse his fate an hundred -times over, which had so constrained him not to reveal, -like the rest of them, his success and triumph, ever more -sweet to tell of than defeat.</p> - -<p>Another I once knew, and a right gallant gentleman, -by reason of his presumption and overmuch freedom of -speech in proclaiming of his mistress’ name, the which he -should have held sacred, as much by signs and tokens as -by actual words, did come parlous near his death in a -murderous attack he but barely escaped from. Yet afterward -on another count he did not so escape the assassins’ -swords, but did presently die of the hurt they gave him.</p> - -<p>Myself was at Court in the time of King Francis II. -when the Comte de Saint-Aignan did wed at Fontainebleau -with young Madame la -<span class="no-wrap">Bourdaisière.<a id="FNanchor_76" href="#Footnote_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</a></span> -Next day, the -bridegroom having come into the King’s apartment, each -and all of the courtiers present did begin to vent their -japes on him. Amongst others a certain great Lord and -very gallant soldier did ask him how many stages he had -made. The husband replied five. As it fell out, there -was also there present an honourable gentleman, a Secretary, -which was then in the very highest favour with a -very great Princess, whose name I will not give, who hereupon -declared,—’twas nothing much, considering the fair -road he had travelled and the fine weather he had, for it -was summer-time. The great Lord then said to him, -“Ho! my fine fellow, you’ld be for having birds enough -to your bag, it seems!”—“And prithee, why not?” retorted -the Secretary. “By God! why! I have taken a -round dozen in four and twenty hours on the most fairest -meadow is in all this neighbourhood, or can be anywhere -in all France.” Who more astounded than the said Lord,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span> -who did learn by these words a thing he had longwhile -suspected? And seeing that himself was deep in love with -this same Princess, he was exceeding mortified to think -how he had so long hunted in this quarter without ever -getting aught, whereas the other had been so lucky in his -sport. This the Lord did dissimulate for the moment; -but later, after long brooding over his resentment, he had -paid him back hot and strong in his own coin but for a -certain consideration that I prefer not to mention. Yet -did he ever after bear him a secret grudge. Indeed, an -if the Secretary had been really well advised, he would -never have so boasted of his bag, but would rather have -kept the thing very secret, especially in so high and brilliant -an adventure, whereof trouble and scandal were exceeding -like to arise.</p> - -<p>What should we say of a certain gentleman of the great -world, which for some displeasure his mistress had done -him, was so insolent as that he went and showed her -husband the lady’s portrait, which she had given him, and -which he carried hung at his neck. The husband did exhibit -no small astonishment, and thereafter showed him -less loving toward his wife, who yet did contrive to gloze -over the matter as well as she could.</p> - -<p>Still more to blame was a great Lord I wot of, who disgusted -at some trick his mistress had played on him, did -stake her portrait at dice and lose it to one of his soldiers, -for he was in command of a large company of infantry. -Hearing thereof, the lady came nigh bursting with vexation, -and was exceeding angered. The Queen Mother did -presently hear of it, and did reprimand him for what he -had done, on the ground that the scorn put on her was -far too extreme, so to go and abandon to the chance of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span> -the dice the portrait of a fair and honourable lady. But -the Lord did soon set the matter in a better light, declaring -how that in his hazard, he had kept back the -parchment inside, and had staked only the box encasing -the same, which was of gold and enriched with precious -stones. Myself have many a time heard the tale discussed -between the lady and the said Lord in right merry wise, -and have whiles laughed my fill thereat.</p> - -<p>Hereanent will I say one thing: to wit, that there be -ladies,—and myself have known sundry such,—which in -their loves do prefer to be defied, threatened, and eke -bullied; and a man will in this fashion have his way with -them better far than by gentle dealings and complacencies. -Just as with fortresses, some be taken by sheer -force of arms, others by gentler means. Yet will no -women endure to be reviled and cried out upon as whores; -for such words be more offensive to them than the things -they do represent.</p> - -<p>Sulla would never forgive the city of Athens, nor refrain -from the utter overthrow of the same root and branch, -not by reason of the obstinacy of its defence against him, -but solely because from the top of the walls thereof the -citizens had foully abused his wife Metella and touched -her honour to the -<span class="no-wrap">quick.<a id="FNanchor_77" href="#Footnote_77" class="fnanchor">[77*]</a></span></p> - -<p>In certain quarters, the which I will not name, the soldiery -in skirmishes and sieges of fortified places were -used, the one side against the other, to cast reproach -upon the virtue of two of their sovereign Princesses, going -so far as to cry forth one to the other: “Your Princess -doth play ninepins fine and well!”—“And yours is downright -good at a main too!” By dint of these aspersions -and bywords were the said Princesses cause of rousing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span> -them to do havoc and commit cruelties more than any -other reason whatever, as I have myself seen.</p> - -<p>I have heard it related how that the chiefest motive -which did most animate the Queen of -<span class="no-wrap">Hungary<a id="FNanchor_78" href="#Footnote_78" class="fnanchor">[78*]</a></span> -to light -up those her fierce fires of rage about Picardy and other -regions of France was to revenge sundry insolent and -foul-mouthed gossips, which were forever telling of her -amours, and singing aloud through all the countryside the -refrain:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Au, au Barbanson,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Et la reine d’Ongrie,</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>—a coarse song at best, and in its loud-voiced ribaldry -smacking strong of vagabond and rustic wit.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">4.</p> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_c_coloured.jpg" width="70" height="70" alt="" /> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Cato</span> could never stomach Cæsar from that -day when in the Senate, which was deliberating -as to measures against Catiline and his -conspiracy, Cæsar being much suspected of -being privy to the plot, there was brought in to the latter -under the rose a little packet, or more properly speaking -a <i>billet doux</i>, the which Servilia, Cato’s sister, did send -for to fix an assignation and meeting place. Cato now -no more doubting of the complicity of Cæsar with Catiline, -did cry out loud that the Senate should order him -to show the communication in question. Thus constrained, -Cæsar made the said letter public, wherein the -honour of the other’s sister was brought into sore scandal -and open disrepute. I leave you then to imagine if -Cato, for all the fine airs he did affect of hating Cæsar<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span> -for the Republic’s sake, could ever come to like him, in -view of this most compromising incident. Yet was it no -fault of Cæsar’s, for he was bound to show the letter, and -that on risk of his life. And I ween Servilia bare him no -special ill-will for this; for in fact and deed they ceased -not to carry on still their loving intercourse, whereof -sprang Brutus, whose father Cæsar was commonly reputed -to have been. If so, he did but ill requite his parent -for having given him being.</p> - -<p>True it is, ladies in giving of themselves to great men, -do run many risks; and if they do win of the same favours, -and high privileges and much wealth, yet do they buy all -these at a great price.</p> - -<p>I have heard tell of a very fair lady, honourable and of -a good house, though not of so great an one as a certain -great Lord, who was deep in love with her. One day -having found the lady in her chamber alone with her -women, and seated on her bed, after some converse betwixt -them and sundry conceits concerning love, the Lord -did proceed to kiss the lady and did by gentle constraint -lay her down upon the bed. Anon coming to the main -issue, and she enduring that same with quiet, civil firmness, -she did say thus to him: “’Tis a strange thing how you -great Lords cannot refrain you from using your authority -and privileges upon us your inferiors. At the least, -if only silence were as common with you as is freedom of -speech, you would be but too desirable and excusable. I -do beg you therefore, Sir! to hold secret what you do, -and keep mine honour safe.”</p> - -<p>Such be the words customarily employed by ladies of -inferior station to their superiors. “Oh! my Lord,” they -cry, “think at any rate of mine honour.” Others say,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span> -“Ah! my dear Lord, an if you speak of this, I am undone; -in Heaven’s name safeguard mine honour.” Others -again, “Why! my good Lord! if only you do say never a -word and mine honour be safe, I see no great objection,” -as if wishing to imply thereby a man may do what he -please, an if it be in secret. So other folk know naught -about it, they deem themselves in no wise dishonoured.</p> - -<p>Ladies of higher rank and more proud station do say -to their gallants, if inferior to themselves: “Be you exceeding -careful not to breathe one word of the thing, no -matter how small. Else it is a question of your life; I -will have you thrown in a sack into the water, or assassinated, -or hamstrung;” such and suchlike language do -they hold. In fact there is never a lady, of what rank -soever she be, that will endure to be evil spoke of or her -good name discussed however slightly in the Palace or in -men’s mouths. Yet are there some others which be so ill-advised, -or desperate, or entirely carried away of love, -as that without men bringing any charge against them, -they do traduce their own selves. Of such sort was, no -long while agone, a very fair and honourable lady, of a -good house, with the which a great Lord did fall deep in -love, and presently enjoying her favours, did give her a -very handsome and precious bracelet. This she was so -ill-advised as to wear commonly on her naked arm above -the elbow. But one day her husband, being to bed with -her, did chance to discover the same; and examining it, -found matter enough therein to cause him to rid him of -her by a violent death. A very foolish and ill-advised -woman truly!</p> - -<p>I knew at another time a very great and sovereign -Prince who after keeping true to a mistress, one of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span> -fairest ladies of the Court, by the space of three years, -at the end of that time was obliged to go forth on an -expedition for to carry out some conquest. Before starting, -he did of a sudden fall deep in love with a very fair -and honourable Princess, if ever there was one. Then -for to show her he had altogether quitted his former mistress -for her sake, and wishing to honour and serve her -in every way, without giving a second thought to the -memory of his old love, he did give her before leaving all -the favours, jewels, rings, portraits, bracelets and other -such pretty things which his former mistress had given -him. Some of these being seen and noted of her, she came -nigh dying of vexation and despite; yet did she not refrain -from divulging the matter; for if only she could -bring ill repute on her rival, she was ready to suffer the -same scandal herself. I do believe, had not the said Princess -died some while after, that the Prince, on his coming -back from abroad, would surely have married her.</p> - -<p>I knew yet another -<span class="no-wrap">Prince,<a id="FNanchor_79" href="#Footnote_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</a></span> -though not so great an one, -which during his first wife’s lifetime and during his widowhood, -did come to love a very fair and honourable damsel -of the great world, to whom he did make, in their courting -and love time, most beautiful presents, neck-chains, -rings, jewels and many other fine ornaments, and amongst -others a very fine and richly framed mirror wherein was -set his own portrait. Well! presently this same Prince -came to wed a very fair and honourable Princess of the -great world, who did make him lose all taste for his first -mistress, albeit neither fell aught below the other for -beauty. The Princess did then so work upon and strongly -urge the Prince her husband, as that he did anon send to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span> -demand back of his former mistress all he had ever given -her of fairest and most rich and rare.</p> - -<p>This was a very sore chagrin to the lady; yet was she -of so great and high an heart, albeit she was no Princess, -though of one of the best houses in France, as that she -did send him back all that was most fair and exquisite, -wherein was a beautiful mirror with the picture of the -said Prince. But first, for to decorate the same still better, -she did take a pen and ink, and did scrawl inside a -great pair of horns for him right in the mid of the forehead. -Then handing the whole to the gentleman, the -Prince’s messenger, she spake thuswise to him: “Here, -my friend, take this to your master, and tell him I do -hereby send him back all he ever gave me, and that I have -taken away nor added naught, unless it be something he -hath himself added thereto since. And tell yonder fair -Princess, his wife, which hath worked on him so strongly -to demand back all his presents of me, that if a certain -great Lord (naming him by name, and myself do know -who it was) had done the like by her mother, and had -asked back and taken from her what he had many a time -and oft given her for sleeping with him, by way of love -gifts and amorous presents, she would be as poor in gewgaws -and jewels as ever a young maid at Court. Tell -her, that for her own head, the which is now so loaded at -the expense of this same Lord and her mother’s belly, she -would then have to go scour the gardens every morning -for to pluck flowers to deck it withal, instead of jewelry. -Well! let her e’en make what show and use she will of -them; I do freely give them up to her.” Any which hath -known this fair lady will readily understand she was such -an one as to have said as much; and herself did tell me<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span> -she did, and very free of speech she aye was. Yet could -she not fail but feel it sore, whether from husband or -wife, to be so ill treated and deceived. And the Princess -was blamed of many folk, which said ’twas her own fault, -to have so despitefully used and driven her to desperation -the poor lady, the which had well earned such presents -by the sweat of her body.</p> - -<p>This lady, for that she was one of the most beautiful -and agreeable women of her time, failed not, notwithstanding -she had so sacrificed her virtue to this Prince, to -make a good marriage with a very rich man, though not -her equal in family. So one day, the twain being come to -mutual reproaches as to the honour they had done each -the other in marrying, and she making a point of the high -estate she was of and yet had married him, he did retort, -“Nay! but I have done more for you than you have done -for me; for I have dishonoured myself for to recover -your honour for you;” meaning to infer by this that, -whereas she had lost hers when a girl, he had won it back -for her, by taking her to wife.</p> - -<p>I have heard tell, and I ween on good authority, how -that, after King Francis I. had quitted Madame de Chasteaubriand, -his most favourite mistress, to take Madame -d’Etampes, Helly by her maiden name, whom the Queen -Regent had chosen for one of her Maids of Honour and -did bring to the King’s notice on his return from Spain -to Bordeaux,—and he did take her for his mistress, and -left the aforesaid Madame de Chasteaubriand, as they -say one nail doth drive out another,—his new mistress -Madame d’Etampes, did beg the King to have back from -the Chasteaubriand all the best jewels which he had given -her. Now this was in no wise for the price or value of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span> -same, for in those days pearls and precious stones had not -the vogue they have since gotten, but for liking of the -graceful -<span class="no-wrap">mottoes<a id="FNanchor_80" href="#Footnote_80" class="fnanchor">[80*]</a></span> -which had been set, imprinted and engraven -thereon, the which the Queen of Navarre, his sister, -had made and composed; for she was a past mistress -of this art. So King Francis did grant her prayer, and -promising he would do this, was as good as his word. To -this end he did send one of his gentlemen to her for to -demand their return, but she on the instant did feign herself -sick and appointed the gentleman to come again in -three days’ time, when he should have what he craved. -Meantime, in her despite, she did send for a goldsmith, -and had him melt down all the jewels, without any regard -or thought of the dainty devices which were engraven -thereon. Then anon, when the messenger was returned, -she did give him all the ornaments converted and changed -into gold ingots. “Go, carry this,” she said, “to the -King, and tell him that, as it hath pleased his Majesty -to ask back what he did erst so generously give me, I do -now return and send back the same in gold ingots. As -for the mottoes and devices, these I have so well conned -over and imprinted on my mind, and do hold them so -dear, as that I could in no wise suffer any other should -use or enjoy the same and have delight therein but myself.”</p> - -<p>When the King had received the whole, ingots and message -and all, he made no other remark but only this, -“Nay! give her back the whole. What I was for doing, -’twas not for the worth of the gold (for I would have -gladly given her twice as much), but for liking of the -devices and mottoes; but seeing she hath so destroyed -these, I care not for the gold, and do return it her again.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span> -Herein hath she shown more greatness and boldness of -heart than ever I had dreamed could come of a woman.” -A noble-spirited lady’s heart, chagrined so and scorned, -is capable of great things.</p> - -<p>These Princes which do so recall their presents act much -otherwise than did once Madame de Nevers, of the house -of Bourbon, daughter of M. de -<span class="no-wrap">Montpensier.<a id="FNanchor_81" href="#Footnote_81" class="fnanchor">[81*]</a></span> -This same -was in her day a very prudent, virtuous and beautiful -Princess, and held for such both in France and Spain, in -which latter country she had been brought up along with -Queen Elisabeth of France, being her cup-bearer and -giving her to drink; for it must be known this Queen was -aye served by her gentlewomen, dames and damsels, and -each had her rank and office, the same as we Courtiers in -attendance on our Kings. This Princess was married to -the Comte d’Eu, eldest son of M. de Nevers, she worthy of -him as he was right well worthy of her, being one of the -handsomest and most pleasing Princes of his time. For -which cause was he much loved and sought after of many -fair and noble ladies of the Court, amongst others of one -which was both this, and a very adroit and clever woman -to boot. Now it befell one day that the Prince did take -a ring from off his wife’s finger, a very fine one, a diamond -worth fifteen hundred or mayhap two thousand crowns, -the which the Queen of Spain had given her on her quitting -her Court. This ring the Prince, seeing how his mistress -did admire it greatly and did show signs of coveting its -possession, being very free-handed and generous, did -frankly offer her, giving her to understand he had won the -same at tennis. Nor did she refuse the gift, but taking -it as a great mark of affection, did always wear it on her -finger for love of him. And thus Madame de Nevers,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span> -who did understand from her good husband that he had -lost the ring at tennis, or at any rate that it was lying -pawned, came presently to see the same on the hand of her -rival, whom she was quite well aware was her husband’s -mistress. Yet was she so wise and prudent and had such -command of herself, as that, merely changing colour -somewhat and quietly dissembling her chagrin, without any -more ado she did turn her head another way, and did -breathe never a word of the matter either to her husband -or his mistress. Herein was she much to be commended, -for that she did show no cross-grained, vixenish temper, -nor anger, nor yet expose the younger lady to public -scorn, as not a few others I wot of would have done, thus -delighting the company and giving them occasion for gossip -and scandal-mongering.</p> - -<p>Thus we see how necessary is moderation in such matters -and how excellent a thing, as also that here no less than -elsewhere doth luck and ill-luck prevail. For some ladies -there be which cannot take one step aside or make the very -smallest stumble in the path of virtue, or taste of love but -with the tip of their finger, but lo! they be instantly traduced, -exposed and satirized right and left.</p> - -<p>Others again there be which do sail full before the wind -over the sea and pleasant waters of Venus, and with naked -body and wide spread limbs do swim with wide strokes -therein, wantoning in its waves, voyaging toward Cyprus -and the Temple of Venus there and her gardens, and taking -their fill of delight in love; yet deuce a word doth any say -about them, no more than if they had never been born. -Thus doth fortune favour some and mislike others in matter -of scandal-making; myself have seen not a few examples -thereof in my day, and some be found still.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span></p> - -<p>In the time of King Charles was writ a lampoon at -Fontainebleau, most base and scurrilous, wherein the fellow -did spare neither the Royal Princesses nor the very greatest -ladies nor any others. And verily, an if the true -author had been known, he would have found himself -in very ill case.</p> - -<p>At Blois moreover, whenas the marriage of the Queen -of Navarre was arranged with the King, her husband, was -made yet another, against a very great and noble lady, -and a most scurrilous one, whereof the author was never -discovered. But there were really some very brave and -valiant gentlemen mixed up therein, which however did -carry it off very boldly and made many loud general denials. -So many others beside were writ, as that naught -else was seen whether in this reign or in that of King -Henri III.—and above all one most scurrilous one in the -form of a song, and to the tune of a <i>coranto</i> which was -then commonly danced at Court, and hence came to be -sung among the pages and lackeys on every note, high and -low.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">5.</p> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_i_coloured16.jpg" width="70" height="70" alt="" /> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">In</span> the days of our King Henri III. was a yet -worse thing done. A certain gentleman, whom -I have known both by name and person, did -one day make a present to his mistress of a -book of pictures, wherein were shown two and thirty ladies -of high or middling rank about the Court, painted in true -colours, a-bed and sporting with their lovers, who were -likewise represented and that in the most natural way. -Some had two or three lovers, some more, some less; and -these thirty-two ladies did figure forth more than seven<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span> -and twenty of the figures or <i>postures</i> of Aretino, and all -different. The actors were so well represented and so -naturally, as that they did seem actually to be speaking -and doing. While some were disrobed, other were shown -clad in the very same clothes, and with the same head-dresses, -ornaments and weeds as they were commonly -to be seen wearing. In a word, so cunningly was the book -wrought and painted that naught could be more curious; -and it had cost eight or nine hundred crowns, and was -illuminated throughout.</p> - -<p>Now this lady did show it one day and lend it to another, -her comrade and bosom friend, which latter was -much a favourite and familiar of a great Lady that was -in the book, and one of the most vividly and vigorously represented -there; so seeing how much it concerned herself, -she did give her best attention. Then being curious of all -experience, she was fain to look it over with another, a -great lady, her cousin and chiefest friend, who had begged -her to afford her the enjoyment of the sight, and who was -likewise in the pictures, like the rest.</p> - -<p>So the book was examined very curiously and with the -greatest care, leaf by leaf, without passing over a single -one lightly, so that they did spend two good hours of the -afternoon at the task. The fair ladies, far from being -annoyed or angered thereat, did find good cause for -mirth therein, seeing them to admire the pictures mightily, -and gaze at them fixedly.</p> - -<p>These two dames were bolder and more valiant and -determined than one I have heard tell of, who one day -looking at this same book with two others of her friends, so -ravished with delight was she and did enter into such an -ecstasy of love and so burning a desire to imitate these<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span> -same luscious pictures, as that she cannot see out of her -eyes till the fourth page, and at the fifth did fall in a -dead faint. A terrible swoon truly! very different to that -of Octavia, sister of Cæsar Augustus, who one day hearing -Virgil recite the three verses he had writ on her dead son -Marcellus (for which she did give him three thousand -crowns for the three alone) did incontinently swoon right -away. That was love indeed, but of how different a -sort!</p> - -<p>I have heard tell, in the days when I was at Court, of -a great Prince of the highest rank, old and well stricken -in years, and who ever since the loss of his wife had borne -him very continently in his widowhood, as indeed was but -consistent with his high repute for sanctity of life. At -last he was fain to marry again with a very fair, virtuous -and young Princess. But seeing how for the ten years he -had been a widower he had never so much as touched a -woman, and fearing to have forgot the way of it (as -though it were an art that a man may forget), and to -get a rebuff the first night of his wedlock, and perform -naught of his desire, was anxious to make a previous essay. -So by dint of money he did win over a fair young maid, a -virgin like the wife he was to marry; nay more, ’tis said -he had her chosen to resemble somewhat in features his -future wife. Fortune was so kind to him that he did -prove he had by no means forgot as yet his old skill; and -his essay was so successful that, bold and happy, he did -advance to his wife’s fortress, and won good victory and -high repute.</p> - -<p>This essay was more successful than that of another -gentleman whose name I have heard, whom his father, -although he was very young and much of a simpleton,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span> -did desire should marry. Well! first of all he was for making -an essay, to know if he would be a good mate with his -wife; so for this end, some months aforehand, he did get -him a pretty-faced harlot, whom he made to come every -afternoon to his father’s warren, for ’twas summer-time, -where he did frisk and make sport with the damsel in the -freshness of the green trees and a gushing fountain in -such wise that he did perform wonders. Thus encouraged, -he feared no man, but was ready enough to play the like -bold part with his wife. But the worst of it was that when -the marriage night was come, and it was time to go with -his wife, lo! he cannot do a thing. Who so astonished -as the poor youth, and who so ready to cry out upon his -accursed recreant weapon, which had so missed fire in -the new spot where he now was. Finally plucking up his -courage, he said thus to his wife, “My pretty one, I cannot -tell what this doth mean, for every day I have done wonders -in the warren,” and so recounted over his deeds of -prowess to her. “Let us to sleep now, and my advice is, -to-morrow after dinner I will take you thither, and you -shall see very different sport.” This he did, and his wife -found him as good as his word. Hence the saying current -at Court, “Ha, ha! an if I had you in my father’s -warren, you should see what I would do!” We can only -suppose that the god of gardens, Dan Priapus, and the -fauns and wanton satyrs which haunt the woods, do there -aid good fellows and favour their deeds of prowess.</p> - -<p>Yet are not all essays alike, nor do all end favorably. -For in matter of love, I have both seen and heard tell of -not a few good champions which have failed to remember -their lessons and keep their engagements when they came -to the chief task of all. For while some be either too<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span> -hot or too cold, in such wise that these humours, of ice or -of fire, do take them of a sudden, others be lost in an -ecstasy to find so sovran a treat within their arms; others -again grow over fearful, others get instantly and totally -flaccid and impotent, without the least knowing the reason -why, and yet others find themselves actually paralysed. -In a word there be so many unexpected accidents -which may occur just at the wrong moment, that if I -were to tell them all, I should not have done for ages. -I can only refer me to many married folk and other amateurs -of love, who can say an hundred times more of all -this than I. Now such essays be good for the men, but -not for the women. Thus I have heard tell of a mother, -a lady of quality, who holding very dear an only daughter -she had, and having promised the same in marriage to -an honourable gentleman, avant que de l’y faire entrer -et craignant qu’elle ne pût souffrir ce premier et dur -effort, à quoi on disait le gentilhomme être très rude et -fort proportionné, elle la fit essayer premièrement par un -jeune page qu’elle avait, assez grandet, une douzaine de -fois, disant qu’il n’y avait que la première ouverture -fâcheuse à faire et que, se faisant un peu douce et petite -au commencement, qu’elle endurerait la grande plus -aisément; comme il advint, et qu’il y put avoir de l’apparence. -Cet essai est encore bien plus honnête et moins -scandaleux qu’un qui me fut dit une fois, en Italie, d’un -père qui avait marié son fils, qui était encore un jeune sot, -avec une fort belle fille à laquelle, tant fat qu’il était, il -n’avait rien pu faire ni la première ni la seconde nuit de -ses noces; et comme il eut demandé et au fils et à la nore -comme ils se trouvaient en mariage et s’ils avaient -triomphé, ils répondirent l’un et l’autre: “<i>Niente</i>.—A<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span> -quoi a-t-il tenu?” demanda à son fils. Il répondit tout -follement qu’il ne savait comment il fallait faire. Sur -quoi il prit son fils par une main et la nore par une autre -et les mena tous deux en une chambre et leur dit: “Or -je vous veux donc montrer comme il faut faire.” Et fit -coucher sa nore sur un bout de lit, et lui fait bien élargir -les jambes, et puis dit à son fils: “Or vois comment je -fais,” et dit à sa nore: “Ne bougez, non importe, il n’y -a point de mal.” Et en mettant son membre bien arboré -dedans, dit: “Avise bien comme je fais et comme je dis, -<i>Dentro fuero, dentro fuero</i>,” et répliqua souvent ces deux -mots en s’avançant dedans et reculant, non pourtant tout -dehors. Et ainsi, après ces fréquentes agitations et -paroles, <i>dentro</i> et <i>fuero</i>, quand ce vint à la consommation, -il se mit à dire brusquement et vite: <i>Dentro, dentro, -dentro, dentro</i>, jusqu’à ce qu’il eût fait. Au diable le -mot de <i>fuero</i>. Et par ainsi, pensant faire du magister, -il fut tout à plat adultère de sa nore, laquelle, ou qu’elle -fit de la niaise ou, pour mieux dire, de la fine, s’en trouva -très bien pour ce coup, voire pour d’autres que lui donna -le fils et le père et tout, possible pour lui mieux apprendre -sa leçon, laquelle il ne lui voulut pas apprendre à demi -ni à moitié, mais à perfection. Aussi toute leçon ne vaut -rieu autrement.</p> - -<p>I have heard many enterprising and successful Lovelaces -declare how that they have often seen ladies in -these faints and swoonings, yet always readily coming -to again afterward. Many women, they said, do cry -out: “Alackaday! I am a-dying!”—but ’tis, I ween, a -mighty agreeable sort of death. Others there be which -do turn back their eyes in their head for excess of pleasure, -as if about to expire outright, and let themselves<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span> -go absolutely motionless and insensible. Others I have -been told do so stiffen and spasmodically contract their -nerves, arteries and limbs, as that they do bring on cramp; -as one lady I have heard speak of, which was so subject -thereto she could never be cured.</p> - -<p>Anent these same swoonings, I have heard tell of a -fair lady, which was being embraced by her lover on top -of a large chest or coffer. Very suddenly and unavoidably -for herself, she did swoon right off in such wise that she -did let herself slide behind the coffer with legs projected -in the air, and getting so entangled betwixt the coffer -and the tapestry of the wall, that while she was yet -struggling to free herself and her cavalier helping her, -there entered some company and so surprised her in this -forked-radish attitude. These had time enough to see all -she had,—which was all very pretty and dainty however,—and -all the poor woman could do was to cover herself -up as best she might, saying so and so had pushed her, as -they were playing, behind the coffer, and declaring how -that she would never like the fellow again for it.</p> - -<p>Cette dame courut bien plus grande fortune qu’une que -j’ai ouï dire, laquelle, alors que son ami la tenait embrassée -et investie sur le bord de son lit, quand ce vint -sur la douce fin qu’il eut achevé et que par trop il -s’étendait, il avait par cas des escarpins neufs qui avaient -la semelle glissante, et s’appuyant sur des carreaux -plombés dont la chambre était pavée, qui sont fort sujets -à faire glisser, il vint à se couler et glisser si bien sans se -pouvoir arrêter que, du pourpoint qu’il avait, tout recouvert -de clinquant, il en écorcha de telle façon le ventre, la -motte le cas et les cuisses de sa maitresse que vous eussiez -dit que les griffes d’un chat y avaient passé; ce qui cuisait<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span> -si fort la dame qu’elle en fit un grand cri et ne s’en put -garder; mais le meilleur fut que la dame, parce que c’était -en été et faisait grand chaud, s’était mise en appareil un -peu plus lubrique que les autres fois, car elle n’avait que -sa chemise bien blanche et un manteau de satin blanc -dessus, et les caleçons à part e si bien que le gentilhomme.</p> - -<p>The lady told the story to one of her female friends, -and the gentleman to one of his comrades. So the thing -came to be known, from being again repeated over to -others; for indeed ’twas a right good tale and very meet -to provoke mirth.</p> - -<p>And no doubt but the ladies, whenas they be alone, -among their most privy bosom-friends, do repeat merry -tales, everywhit as much as we men-folk do, and tell each -other their amorous adventures and all their most secret -tricks and turns, and afterward laugh long and loud -over the same, making fine fun of their gallants, whenever -these be guilty of some silly mistake or commit some -ridiculous and foolish action.</p> - -<p>Yea! and they do even better than this. For they do -filch their lovers the one from the other, and this sometimes -not so much for passion’s sake, but rather for to -draw from them all their secrets, the pretty games and -naughty follies they have practised with them. These -they do then turn to their own advantage, whether still -further to stir their ardour, or by way of revenge, or to -get the better one of the other in their privy debates -and wranglings when they be met together.</p> - -<p>In the days of this same King Henri III. was made that -satire without words consisting of the book of pictures -I have spoke of above, of sundry ladies in divers postures -and connections with their gallants. ’Twas exceeding<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span> -base and scurrilous,—for the which see the above passage -wherein I have described the same.</p> - -<p>Well! enough said on this matter. I could wish from -my heart that not a few evil tongues in this our land of -France could be chastened and refrain them from their -scandal-making, and comport them more after the Spanish -fashion. For no man there durst, on peril of his -life, to make so much as the smallest reflection on the -honour of ladies of rank and reputation. Nay! so -scrupulously are they respected that on meeting them in -any place whatsoever, an if the faintest cry is raised of -<i>lugar a las damas</i>, every man doth lout low and pay them -all honour and reverence. Before them is all insolence -straitly forbid on pain of death.</p> - -<p>Whenas the -<span class="no-wrap">Empress,<a id="FNanchor_82" href="#Footnote_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</a></span> -wife of the Emperor Charles, -made his entry into Toledo, I have heard tell how that -the Marquis de Villena, one of the great Lords of Spain, -for having threatened an alguasil, which had forcibly -hindered him from stepping forward, came nigh being -sore punished, because the threat was uttered in presence -of the Empress; whereas, had it been merely in the -Emperor’s, no such great ado would have been made.</p> - -<p>The Duc de Feria being in Flanders, and the Queens -Eleanor and Marie taking the air abroad, and their -Court ladies following after them, it fell out that as he -was walking beside them, he did come to words with an -other Spanish knight. For this the pair of them came -very nigh to losing their lives,—more for having made -such a scandal before the Queen and Empress than for -any other cause.</p> - -<p>The same befell Don Carlos d’Avalos at Madrid, as -Queen Isabelle of France was walking through the town;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span> -and had he not sped instantly into a Church which doth -there serve as sanctuary for poor unfortunate folk, he -had been straightway put to death. The end was he had -to fly in disguise, and leave Spain altogether; and was -kept in banishment all his life long and confined in the -most wretched islet of all Italy, Lipari to wit.</p> - -<p>Court jesters even, which have usually full license of -free speech, an if they do assail the ladies, do get somewhat -to remember. It did so fall out one time to a Fool -called Legat, whom I once knew myself. Queen Elizabeth of -<span class="no-wrap">France<a id="FNanchor_83" href="#Footnote_83" class="fnanchor">[83*]</a></span> -once in conversation speaking of the houses -at Madrid and Valladolid, how charming and agreeable -these were, did declare she wished with all her heart the -two places were so near she could e’en touch one with one -foot and the other with the other, spreading her legs very -wide open as she said the words. The Fool, who heard -the remark, cried, “And I should dearly wish to be in -betwixt, <i>con un carrajo de borrico, para encarguar y -plantar la raya</i>,”—that is, “with a fool’s cudgel to mark -and fix the boundary withal.” For this he was soundly -whipped in the kitchens. Yet was he well justified in -forming such a wish; for truly was she one of the fairest, -most agreeable and honourable ladies was ever in all -Spain, and well deserving to be desired in this fashion,—only -of folk more honourable than he an hundred thousand -times.</p> - -<p>I ween these fine slanderers and traducers of ladies -would dearly love to have and enjoy the same privilege -and license the vintagers do possess in the country parts -of Naples at vintage time. These be allowed, so long as -the vintage dureth, to shout forth any sort of vile word -and insult and ribaldry to all that pass that way, coming<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span> -and going on the roads. Thus will you see them crying -and screaming after all wayfarers and vilifying the same, -without sparing any, whether great, middling or humble -folk, of what estate soever they be. Nor do they spare,—and -this is the merry part on’t,—the ladies one whit -neither, high-born dames or Princesses or any. Indeed -in my day I did there hear of not a few fine ladies, and -see them too, which would make a pretext to hie them to -the fields on purpose, so as they might pass along the -roads, and so hearken to this pretty talk and hear a thousand -naughty conceits and lusty words. These the peasants -would invent and roll off in plenty, casting up at -the great ladies their naughtiness and the shameful ways -they did use toward their husbands and lovers, going so -far as to chide them for their shameful loves and intimacies -with their own coachmen, pages, lackeys and apparitors, -which were of their train. Going yet further, -they would ask them right out for the courtesy of their -company, saying they would assault them roundly and -satisfy them better than all the others could. All this -they would let out in words of a fine, natural frankness -and bluntness, without any sort of glossing or disguising. -The ladies had their good laugh and pastime out -of the thing, and there an end, making their servants -which were with them answer back in the like strain and -give as good as they got. The vintage once done and -over, there is truce of suchlike language till another year, -else would they be brought to book and sore punished.</p> - -<p>I am told the said custom doth still endure, and that -many folk in France would fain have it observed there -also at some season of the year or other, to enjoy in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span> -security the pleasure of their evil speaking, which they -do love so well.</p> - -<p>Well! to make an end of the subject, ’tis very meet all -ladies be respected of all men, and the secret of their -loves and favours duly kept. This is why Pietro Aretino -said, that when lovers were come to it, the kisses that -man and maid did give each other were not so much for -their mutual delight as for to join connection of the -mouths together and so make signal betwixt them that -they do keep hid the secret of their merry doings. Nay, -more! that some lustful and lascivious husbands do in -their wantonness show them so free and extravagant in -words, as that not content with committing sundry -naughty profligacies with their wives, they do declare -and publish the same to their boon-companions, and -make fine tales out of them. So much so that I have -myself known wives which did conceive a mortal repugnance -to their husbands for this cause and would even -very often refuse them the pleasures they had erst afforded -them. They would not have such scandalous -things said of them, albeit ’twas but betwixt husband -and wife.</p> - -<p>M. du Bellay, the poet, in his book of Latin epitaphs -called <i>Les Tombeaux</i>, which he hath composed, and very -fine it is, hath writ one on a dog, that methinks is well -worth quoting here, for ’tis writ much in our own manner. -It runneth thus:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Latratu fures excepi, mutus amentes.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Sic placui domino, sic placui dominæ.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>(By my barking I did drive away thieves, with a quiet -tongue I did greet lovers. Thus I did please my master, and -thus my mistress.)</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span></p> -</div> - -<p>Well! if we are so to love animals for discreetness, how -much more must we not value men for holding silence? -And if we are to take advice on this matter of a courtesan -which was one of the most celebrated of former days, and -a past mistress in her art, to wit Lamia, here it is. -Asked wherein a woman did find most satisfaction in her -lover, she replied ’twas when he was discreet in talk and -secret as to what he did. Above all else she said she -did hate a boaster, one that was forever boasting of -what he did not do, yet failing to accomplish what he -promised,—two faults, each as bad as the other. She -was used to say further: that a woman, albeit ready -enough to be indiscreet, would never willingly be called -harlot, nor published abroad for such. Moreover she said -how that she did never make merry at a man’s expense, -nor any man at hers, nor did any ever miscall her. A -fair dame of this sort, so experienced in love’s mysteries, -may well give lessons to other women.</p> - -<p>Well, well! enough said on these points. Another man, -more eloquent than I, might have embellished and ennobled -the subject better far. To such I do pass on -hereby mine arms and pen.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter illowe25 mt4" style="max-width: 65.5em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/i_chapter_heads.jpg" alt="chapter head scroll work" /> -</div> - -<h2 class="nobreak p2" id="SEVENTH_DISCOURSE84">SEVENTH DISCOURSE<a id="FNanchor_84" href="#Footnote_84" class="fnanchor">[84*]</a></h2> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center"><span style="font-family:'Lucida Calligraphy', serif;"> -Concerning married women, widows and maids,—to wit, -which of these same be better than the other to love.</span></p> - - -<p class="noindent center bold p2">INTRODUCTION</p> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_o_coloured.jpg" width="70" height="70" alt="" /> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">One</span> day when I was at the Court of Spain at -Madrid, and conversing with a very honourable -lady, as is the way at Kings’ Courts, she -did chance to ask me this question following: -<i>Qual era mayor fuego d’amor, el de la biuda, el de la -casada, o de la hija moça</i>,—“which of the three had the -greater heat of love, widow, wife or maid?” After myself -had told her mine opinion, she did in turn give me hers in -some such terms as these: <i>Lo que me parece d’ esta cosa es -que, aunque las moças con el hervor de la sangre, se disponen -á querer mucho, no deve ser tanto como lo que -quieren las casadas y biudas, con la gran experiencia del -negocio. Esta razon debe ser natural, como lo seria la -del que, por haver nacido ciego de la perfeccion de la luz, -no puede cobdiciar de ella con tanto deseo como el que vio, -y fue privado de la vista.</i>—“What I think on the matter -is this: that albeit maids, with all that heat of blood that -is theirs, be right well disposed to love, yet do they not -love so well as wives and widows. This is because of the -great experience of the business the latter have, and the -obvious fact that supposing a man born blind, and from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span> -birth robbed of all power of vision, he can never desire -the gift so strongly as he that hath sweetly enjoyed the -same a while and then been deprived thereof.” To which -she did presently add this further remark: <i>Con menos -pena se abstiene d’ una cosa la persona que nunca supo, -que aquella que vive enamorada del gusto pasado</i>—“How -that one could with a lesser ado refrain from a thing -one had never tried, than from one already known and -loved.” Such were the reasons this lady did adduce on -this moot point.</p> - -<p>Again the respected and learned Boccaccio, among the -questions discussed in his -<span class="no-wrap"><i>Filicopo</i>,<a id="FNanchor_85" href="#Footnote_85" class="fnanchor">[85*]</a></span> -doth in the ninth treat -of this same problem: Which of these three, wife, widow -or maid, a man should rather fall in love with, in order -the more happily to carry his desire into effect? The -author doth answer by the mouth of the Queen he doth -there introduce speaking, that although ’tis of course -very ill done and against God and one’s own conscience -to covet a married woman, which is in no sense another’s, -but subject to her husband, it is natheless far easier to -come to the point with her than ever with maid or widow, -albeit such love is dangerous,—seeing the more a man -doth blow the fire, the more he rouseth it, whereas otherwise -it dieth down. Indeed all things do wane in the -using, except only wantonness, which doth rather wax. -But the widow, which hath been long without such exercise, -doth scarce feel it at all, and doth take no more -account of love than if she had never been married, and -is more heated by memory of the past than by present -concupiscence. Also the maid, which hath no knowledge -nor experience of what it is, save by imagination, hath -but a lukewarm longing therefor. On the other hand<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span> -the married woman, heated more than the others, doth oft -desire to come to the point and enjoy this pleasure, in -spite of its sometimes bringing on her her husband’s sore -displeasure manifested in words and eke blows. For all -this, fain to be revenged on him (for naught is so vengeful -as a woman), as well as for sake of the thing itself, -doth the wife make him cuckold right out, and enjoy the -desire of her heart. Beside, folk do soon weary of eating -ever of the same meat, and for this cause even great -Lords and Ladies do often leave good and delicate viands -for to take others instead. Moreover, with girls, ’tis a -matter of overmuch pains and consumption of time to -tame them and bring them round to the will of men; nay! -an if they <i>do</i> love, they know not that they do. But -with widows, the old fire doth readily recover its vigour, -very soon making them desire once more what by reason -of long discontinuance they had forgot the savour of. -Thus they be not slow to come back again to the old -delights, only regretting the time wasted and the weary -nights of widowhood passed all alone and uncomforted -in their cold beds.</p> - -<p>In answer to these arguments of the Queen, a certain -gentleman named Faramond doth make reply. Leaving -married women aside altogether, as being so easy to get -the better of without a man’s using any great reasoning -to persuade them to it, he doth consider the case of maids -and widows, maintaining the maid to be more steadfast -in love than the widow. For the widow, who hath experienced -in the past the secrets of passion, doth never -love steadfastly, but always doubtfully and tentatively, -quickly changing and desiring now one, now another gallant, -never knowing to which she should give herself for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span> -her greater advantage and honour! Nay! sometimes so -vacillating is she in her long deliberations she doth choose -never an one at all, and her amorous passion can find no -steadfast hold whatever. Quite opposite is the maid, he -saith, and all such doubts and hesitations be foreign to -her. Her one desire is to have a lover true, and after -once choosing him well, to give all her soul to him and -please him in all things, deeming it the best honour she -can do him to be true and steadfast in her love. So being -only too ardent for the things which have never yet been -seen, heard or proven of her, she doth long far more than -other women which have had experience of life, to see, -hear and prove all such matters. Thus the keen desire -she hath to see new things doth strongly dominate her -heart; she doth make enquiries of them that know,—which -doth increase her flame yet more. Accordingly she -is very eager to be joined with him she hath made Lord -of her affections, whereas this same ardour is not in the -widow, seeing she hath passed that way already.</p> - -<p>Well at the last the Queen in Boccaccio, taking up the -word again and wishing to give a final answer to the question, -doth thus conclude: That the widow is more painstaking -of the pleasure of love an hundred fold than the -virgin, seeing the latter is all for dearly guarding her -precious virginity and maidenhead. Further, virgins be -naturally timid, and above all in this matter, awkward -and inept to find the sweet artifices and pretty complaisances -required under divers circumstances in such -encounters. But this is not so with the widow, who is -already well practised, bold and ready in this art, having -long ago bestowed and given away what the virgin doth -make so much ado about giving. For this cause she hath<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span> -no fear of her person being looked at, or her virtue impugned -by the discovery of any mark of lapse from honour; -and in all respects she doth better know the secret -ways for to arrive at her end. Beside all this, the maid -doth dread this first assault of her virginity, which in -many women is sometimes rather grievous and painful -than soft and pleasant, whereas widows have no such -fear, but do submit themselves very sweetly and gently, -even when the assailant be of the roughest. Now this -particular pleasure is quite different from many others, -for with them a man is oft satisfied with the first experience -and goeth lightly to others, whereas in this the longing -to return once more to the same doth ever wax more -and more. Accordingly the widow, which doth give least, -but giveth it often, is an hundred times more liberal than -the maid, when this last doth at length consent to abandon -her most precious possession, to the which she doth direct -a thousand thoughts and regrets. Wherefore, the Queen -doth conclude, ’tis much better for a man to address himself -to a widow than to a maid, as being far easier to -gain over and corrupt.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter illowe25 mt4" style="max-width: 65.5em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/i_chapter_heads.jpg" alt="chapter head scroll work" /> -</div> - -<h3 class="nobreak p2" id="ARTICLE_I">ARTICLE I</h3> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center bold p2">OF THE LOVE OF MARRIED WOMEN</p> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_n_coloured.jpg" width="70" height="70" alt="" /> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Now</span> to take and further consider these arguments -of Boccaccio, and expand them somewhat, -and discuss the same, according to the -words I have heard spoke of many honourable -gentlefolk, both men and women, on these matters,—as -the result of ample knowledge and experience, I declare -there can be no doubt that any man wishing quickly to -have fruition of love, must address him to married ladies, -an if he would avoid great trouble and much consumption -of time; for, as Boccaccio saith, the more a fire is -stirred, the more ardent doth it grow. And ’tis the married -woman which doth grow so hot with her husband, -that an if he be lacking in the wherewithal to extinguish -the fire he doth give his wife, she must needs borrow of -another man, or burn up alive. I did once know myself -a lady of good birth, of a great and high family, which -did one day tell her lover, and he did repeat the tale to -me, how that of her natural disposition she was in no -wise keen for this pleasure so much as folk would think -(and God wot this is keen enough), and was ready and -willing many a time to go without, were it not that her -husband stirring her up, while yet he was not strong -or capable enough to properly assuage her heat, he did -make her so fierce and hot she was bound to resort for -succour in this pass to her lover. Nay! very often not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span> -getting satisfaction enough of him even, she would withdraw -her alone, to her closet or her bed, and there in -secrecy would cure her passion as best she might. Why! -she declared, had it not been for very shame, she would -have given herself to the first she met in a ballroom, -in any alcove, or on the very steps, so tormented -was she with this terrible feeling. Herein was she for -all the world like the mares on the borders of Andalusia, -which getting so hot and not finding their stallions there -to leap them and so unable to have satisfaction, do set -their natural opening against the wind blowing in these -plains, which doth so enter in and assuageth their heat -and getteth them with foal. Hence spring those steeds -of such fleetness we see from those regions, as though -keeping some of the fleetness and natural swiftness of the -wind their sire. I ween there be husbands enough would -be right glad if their wives could find such a wind as this, -to refresh them and assuage their heat, without their -having to resort to their lovers and give their poor mates -most unbecoming horns for their heads.</p> - -<p>Truly a strange idiosyncrasy in a woman, the one I -have just adduced,—not to burn, but when stirred of another. -Yet need we be in no way astonished thereat, for -as said a Spanish lady: <i>Que quanto mas me quiero sacar -de la braza, tanto mas mi marido me abraza en el brazero</i>,—“The -more I am for avoiding the embers, the more -my husband doth burn me in my brazier.” And truly -women may well be kindled that way, seeing how by mere -words, by touching and embracing alone, even by alluring -looks, they do readily allow themselves to be drawn to it, -when they find opportunity, without a thought of the -consideration they owe their husbands.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span></p> - -<p>For, to tell the real truth, what doth most hinder every -woman, wife or maid, from taking of this pleasure again -and again is the dread they feel of having their belly -swell, without eating beans,—an event married ladies do -not fear a whit. For an if they do so swell, why! ’tis the -poor husband that hath done it all, and getteth all the -credit. And as for the laws of honour which do forbid -them so to do, why! Boccaccio doth plainly say the most -part of women do laugh at these, alleging for reason and -justification: that Nature’s laws come first, which doth -never aught in vain, and hath given them such excellent -members to be used and set to work, and not to -be left idle and unemployed. Nature neither forbiddeth -the proper exercise of these nor imposeth disuse on -these parts more than on any other; else would the spiders -be building their webs there, as I have said in another -place, unless they do find brushes meet to sweep them away -withal. Beside, from keeping themselves unexercised do -very oft spring sore complaints and even dangers to life,—and -above all a choking of the womb, whereof so many -women die as ’tis pitiful to see, and these right fair and -honourable dames. All this for sake of this plaguey continence, -whereof the best remedy, say the doctors, is just -carnal connection, and especially with very vigorous and -well provided husbands. They say further, at any rate -some of our fair ones do, that this law of honour is only -for them that love not and have got them no true and -honourable lovers, in whom no doubt ’tis unbecoming and -blameworthy to go sacrifice to the chastity of their body, -as if they were no better than courtesans. But such as -truly love, and have gotten them lovers well chosen and -good, this law of honour doth in no wise forbid them to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span> -help these to assuage the fires that burn them, and give -them wherewithal to extinguish the same. This is verily -and indeed for women to give life to the suppliant asking -it, showing themselves gentle-hearted benefactresses, not -savage and cruel tyrants.</p> - -<p>This is what Renaldo said, whom I have spoke of in -a former discourse, when telling of the poor afflicted -Ginevra. As to this, I did once know a very honourable -lady and a great one, whom her lover did one day find in -her closet, translating that famous stanza of the said -Renaldo beginning, <i>Una donna deve dunque morire</i>,—“A -lady fair was like to die,” into French verse, as fair and -fairly wrought, as ever I have seen,—for I did see the -lines after. On his asking her what she had writ there, -she replied: “See, a translation I have just made, which -is at once mine own judgment by me delivered, and a sentence -pronounced in your favour for to content you in -that you desire,—and only the execution doth now remain;” -and this last, the reading done, was promptly carried -out. A better sentence i’faith than was ever given -in the Bailey Court of the Paris -<span class="no-wrap">Parliament!<a id="FNanchor_86" href="#Footnote_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</a></span> -For of -all the fine words and excellent arguments wherewith -Ariosto hath adorned Renaldo’s speech, I do assure you -the lady forgat never an one to translate and reproduce -them all well and thoroughly, so as the translation was -as meet as ever the original to stir the heart. Thus did -she let her lover plainly understand she was ready enough -to save his life, and not inexorable to his supplication, -while he was no less apt to seize his opportunity.</p> - -<p>Why then shall a lady, when that Nature hath made -her good and full of pity, not use freely the gifts given -her, without ingratitude to the giver, and without resistance<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span> -and contradiction to her laws? This was the view -of a fair lady I have heard speak of, which watching her -husband one day walking up and down in a great hall, -cannot refrain her from turning to her lover and saying, -“Just look at our good man pacing there; has not he -the true build of a cuckold? Surely I should have gone -sore against dame Nature, seeing she had created him -and destined him for this, an if I had contradicted her -intent and given her the lie!”</p> - -<p>I have heard speak of another lady, which did thus -complain of her husband, which did treat her ill and was -ever jealously spying on her, suspecting she was making -him a set of horns: “Nay! he is too good,” she would cry -to her lover; “he thinks his fire is a match for mine. -Why! I do put his out in a turn of the hand, with four -or five drops of water. But for mine, which hath a very -different depth of furnace, I do need a flood. For we -women be of our nature like dropsical folk or a sandy -ditch, which the more water they swallow, the more they -want.”</p> - -<p>Another said yet better, how that a woman was like -chickens, which do get the pip and die thereof, if they -be stinted of water and have not enough to drink. A -woman is the same, which doth breed the pip and oft die -thereof, if they are not frequently given to drink; only -’tis something else than spring water it must have. Another -fair lady was used to say she was like a good garden, -which not content with the rain of heaven only, doth ask -water of the gardener as well, to be made more fruitful -thereby. Another would say she would fain resemble -those good economists and excellent managers which do -never give out all their property to be guided and a profit<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span> -earned to one agent alone, but do divide it among several -hands. One alone could not properly suffice to get good -value. After a similar fashion was she for managing -herself, to make the best thereof and for herself to reap -the highest enjoyment.</p> - -<p>I have heard of yet another lady which had a most ill-favoured -lover, and a very handsome husband and of a -good grace, the lady herself being likewise very well-looking. -One of her chiefest lady friends and gossips -remonstrating with her and asking why she did not choose -a handsomer lover, “Know you not,” she said, “that to -cultivate well a piece of land more than one labourer is -wanted, and as a rule the best-looking and most dainty -be not the most meet workers, but the most rustical and -hardy?” Another lady I knew, which had a very ill-favoured -husband and of a very evil grace, did choose a -lover as foul as he; and when one of her friends did ask -her the reason why, “’Tis the better,” quoth she, “to -accustom me to mine husband’s ugliness.”</p> - -<p>Yet another lady, discoursing one day of love, as well -her own as that of other fair ladies her companions, said: -“An if women were alway chaste, why! they would never -know but one side of life,”—herein basing on the doctrine -of the Emperor Heliogabalus, who was used to declare, -“that one half of a man’s life should be employed in virtues, -and the other half in vices; else being always in one -condition, either wholly good or wholly bad, one could -never judge of the opposite side at all, which yet doth -oft serve the better to attemper the first.” I have known -great personages to approve this maxim, and especially -where women were concerned. Again the wife of the -Emperor Sigismund, who was called -<span class="no-wrap">Barba,<a id="FNanchor_87" href="#Footnote_87" class="fnanchor">[87*]</a></span> -was used to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span> -say that to be forever in one and the same condition of -chastity was a fool woman’s part, and did much reprove -her ladies, wives or maids, which did persist in this foolish -opinion, and most surely for her own part did very -thoroughly repudiate the same. For indeed all her pleasure -lay but in feasts, dances, balls and love-makings, and -much mockery was for any which did not the like, or -which did fast to mortify the flesh, and were for following -a quiet life. I leave you to imagine if it went not well -at the Court of this Emperor and Empress,—I mean for -all such, men and women, as take joy in love’s pleasures.</p> - -<p>I have heard speak of a very honourable lady and of -good repute, which did fairly fall ill of the love which she -bare her lover, yet did never consent to risk the matter, -because of this same high law of honour so much insisted -on and preached up of husbands. But seeing how day -by day she was more and more consumed away and burned -up, in such wise that in a twinkling she did behold herself -wax dry, lean, and languishing, and from being aforetime -fresh, plump and in good case, now all changed and -altered, as her mirror informed her, she did at length -cry: “Nay! how shall it be said of me that in the flower -of mine age, and at the prompting of a mere frivolous -point of honour and silly scruple making me overmuch -keep in my natural fire, I did thus come to dry up and -waste away, and grow old and ugly before my time, and -lose all the bloom of my beauty, which did erst make me -valued and preferred and loved. Instead of a fair lady -of good flesh and bone I am become a skeleton, a very -anatomy, enough to make folk banish me and jeer at me -in any good company, a laughing-stock to all and sundry. -No! I will save me from such a fate; I will use the remedies<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span> -I have in my power.” And herewith, what she said, -she did, and contenting her own and her love’s desires, -she soon gat back her flesh again and grew as fair as before,—without -her husband’s ever suspecting the remedy -she had used, but attributing the cure to the doctors, -whom he did greatly honour and warmly thank for having -so restored his wife to health for his better profit and enjoyment.</p> - -<p>I have heard speak of another great lady, one of a -merry humour and a pretty wit, to whom, being sick, her -physician did one day declare how that she would never -be well, unless she changed her habits. Hereupon she -answered straight, “Well then! let us do it.” So the -physician and she did take one with the other joy of -heart and body. One day she said to him, “People all -declare you do it for me; but there, ’tis all one, as I -am so much better. And all ever I can, I will go on doing -it,—as mine health doth depend on it.”</p> - -<p>These two dames last spoke of were quite unlike that -honourable lady of Pampeluna in Spain, whom I have already -mentioned in a previous passage, and who is described -in the <i>Cent Nouvelles</i> of the Queen of Navarre. -This lady, being madly in love with M. d’Avannes, did -think it better to hide her flame, and keep hid in her bosom -the passion that was consuming her, and die thereof, than -lose her honour. But by what I have heard sundry honourable -lords and ladies say in discussing the matter, she -was a fool for her pains, and little regardful of her soul’s -salvation, seeing she did bring about her own death, it -being in her power to avoid this extremity, and all for -a trifle. For in very fact, as an old French proverb doth -put it, “<i>D’une herbe de pré tondue et d’un c... f...,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span> -le dommage est bientôt rendu.</i>” And what is it, when -all is done? The business, once done, is like any other; -what sign is there of it to men’s eyes? Doth the lady -walk any the less upright? doth the world know aught? -I mean of course when ’tis done in secret, with closed -doors, and no man by to see. I would much like to know -this, if many of the great ladies of mine own acquaintance, -for ’tis with such love doth most take up abode (as this -same lady of Pampeluna saith, ’tis at high portals that -high winds do beat), if these do therefore cease to walk -abroad with proudly lifted head, whether at this Court -of France or elsewhere, and show them as unabashed as -ever a Bradamant or Marfisa of them all. And pray, -who would be so presumptuous as to ask them if they -condescend to it? Even their husband (I tell you), the -most of them at any rate, would never dare to charge -them with it, so well do they understand the art of concealment -and the keeping of a confident show and carriage. -But an if these same husbands, any of them, do -think to speak thereof and threaten them, or punish them -with harsh words or deeds, why! they be undone; for -then, even though before they had planned no ill against -them, yet do they straightway plot revenge and give them -back as good as they have gotten. For is there not an -old proverb which saith, “When and so soon as a husband -doth beat his wife, her body doth laugh for joy”? That -is to say, it doth presently look for good times, knowing -the natural bent of its mistress, who unable to avenge -her wrongs by other weapons, will turn it to account as -second and best ally, to pay her husband back with her -lover’s help, no matter what watch and ward the poor -man keep over her.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span></p> - -<p>For verily, to attain their end, the most sovran means -they have is to make their complaints to one another, or -to their women and maids of the chamber, and so win -these over to get them new lovers, if they have none, or -an if they have, to convey these privily to places of -assignation; and ’tis they which do mount guard that -neither husband nor any other surprise them at it. Thus -then do these ladies gain over their maids and women, -bribing them with presents and good promises. In certain -cases beside they do make agreement and composition -with these, on the terms that of all the lover may give their -lady mistress, the servant shall have the half or at least -the third part thereof. But the worst is, very often the -mistresses do deceive their servants, taking the whole for -themselves, making excuse that their lover hath given -them no more than so small a share as that they have not -enough to spare aught for others. Thus do they hoax -these poor wenches and serving maids, albeit they stand -sentinel and keep good watch. This is a sore injustice; -and I ween, were the case to be tried with proper arguments -pleaded on this side and that, ’twould afford occasion -for much merriment and shrewd debate. For ’tis -verily theft, no less, so to filch their benefices and emoluments -duly agreed upon. Other ladies there be however -who do keep faithfully their promise and compact, and -hold back naught, for to be the better served and loyally -helped, herein copying those honest shop-keepers, who -do render a just proportion of the gain and profit of -the talent their master or partner hath entrusted them -withal. And truly such dames do deserve to be right well -served, seeing they be duly grateful for the trouble, and -good watch and ward of their inferiors. And these last<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span> -do run many risks and perils,—as one I wot of, who keeping -guard one day, the while her mistress was with her -lover and having merry times, both the twain being right -well occupied, was caught by the husband’s house-steward. -The man did chide her bitterly for what she was at, saying -’twere more becoming for her had she been with her -mistress than to be playing procuress like this and standing -sentinel outside her door. ’Twas a foul trick she -was playing her mistress’ husband, and he would go warn -him. However the lady did win him over by means of -another of her maids, of whom he was enamoured and -who did promise him some favour at her mistress’ prayers; -beside, she did make him a present, and he was at last appeased. -Natheless she did never like him afterward, and -kept a shrewd eye on his doings; finally spying an opportunity -and taking it on the hop, she did get him dismissed -by her husband.</p> - -<p>I wot of a fair and honourable -<span class="no-wrap">lady,<a id="FNanchor_88" href="#Footnote_88" class="fnanchor">[88*]</a></span> -which did take a -serving maid of hers into great intimacy and high favour -and friendship, even allowing her much intimacy, having -trained her well for such intercourse. So free was she -with her mistress that sometimes when she did see this -lady’s husband longtime absent from his house, engaged -either at Court or on some journey, oft would she gaze -at her mistress as she was dressing her, (and she was one -of the most beautiful and lovable women of her day), -and presently remark: “Ah, me! is he not ill-starred, -Madam, that husband of yours, to possess so fair a wife, -and yet have to leave her thus all alone so long without -ever setting eyes on her? Doth he not deserve you should -cuckold him outright? You really ought; and if I were -as handsome as you, I should do as much to mine husband,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span> -if he tarried so much away.” I leave you to judge -if the lady and mistress of this serving maid did find -this a tasty nut to crack, especially finding as she did -shoes all ready to her feet, whereof she did after make -good use, freely employing so handy an instrument.</p> - -<p>Again, there be ladies which do make use of their serving -maids to help them hide their amours and prevent -their husbands observing aught amiss, and do give them -charge of their lovers, to keep and hold them as their -own suitors, under this pretext to be able at any time to -say, if the husbands do find them in their wives’ chambers, -that they be there as paying court to such or such an -one of their maids. So under this cloak hath the lady a -most excellent means of playing her game, and the husband -know naught at all about it. I knew a very great -Prince indeed which did set him to pay court to a lady -of the wardrobe to a great Princess, solely to find out the -secret intrigues of her mistress, and so the better gain -success in that quarter.</p> - -<p>I have seen plenty of these tricks played in my lifetime, -though not altogether in the fashion followed by a certain -honourable lady of the world I once knew, which was so -fortunate as to be loved of three brave and gallant gentlemen, -one after the other. These on quitting her, did -presently after love and serve a very great lady, whereon -she did very pleasantly and good-humouredly deliver herself -to this effect. ’Twas she, she said, who had so trained -and fashioned them by her excellent lessons, as that coming -now into the service of the said great Princess, they -were exceeding well formed and educated. To rise so high, -she declared, ’twas very needful first to serve smaller folk, -in order not to fail with greater; for to arrive at any supreme<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span> -degree of skill, a man must needs mount first by -small and low degrees, as is seen in all arts and sciences.</p> - -<p>This did her great honour. Yet more deserving still -was another I have heard tell of, which was in the train -of a great lady. This lady was married, and being surprised -by her husband in her chamber receiving a little -paper note or <i>billet doux</i> from her lover, was right well -succoured by her subordinate. For this last, cleverly intercepting -the note, did swallow down the same at one -gulp without making any bones about it and without the -husband perceiving aught, who would have treated his -wife very ill indeed, if he had once seen the inside. This -was a very noble piece of service, and one the great lady -was always grateful for.</p> - -<p>On the other hand I wot well of ladies which have found -them in evil case for having overmuch trusted their serving -maids, and others again for not having trusted them -at all. I have heard speak of a fair and honourable lady, -who had taken and chose out a gentleman, one of the -bravest, most valiant and well accomplished of all France, -to give the same pleasure and delight of herself. She -would never trust any one of her women, and assignation -being given in a friend’s house, it was concerted and -arranged there should be but one bed in the chamber, her -women all sleeping in the antechamber. As settled, so -done. And as there was a cat’s-hole in the door, which -they had not remembered or provided for till the moment, -they bethought them to stop this with a thin board, to -the end that if any pushed it down, it would make a rattle, -which they would hear and could take measures accordingly. -One of her women, suspecting a snake in the grass, -and angry and hurt because her mistress had not confided<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span> -in her, whom she had ever made her chiefest confidante, -and had given many proofs thereof, doth now make -up her mind, so soon as her mistress was to bed, to keep -a look out and listen at the door. She could hear quite -well a low murmuring, yet was sure ’twas not the reading -aloud her mistress had for some days indulged in in bed, -with a candle, the better to dissemble what she was going -to do. Just as she was on the tip-toe of curiosity, to -know more, an excellent occasion did present itself most -opportunely. For a kitten happening to come into the -room, she and her companions take the animal and push -it through the cat’s-hole into her mistress’ chamber, not -of course without knocking down the board that kept it -closed and making a clatter. At this the pair of lovers, -sore startled, did suddenly sit up in bed, and saw by the -light of their candle ’twas only a cat that had come in and -knocked down the board. Wherefore without troubling -more about it, they laid them down again, seeing ’twas -now late and everybody presumably asleep, but never shut -to again the cat’s-hole, leaving the same open for the cat -to go out again by, as they did not care to have it shut -up in their room all night long. Seizing so good an opportunity, -the said waiting maid and her companions had -a fine chance to see enough and to spare of their mistress’ -doings. These they did after reveal to the husband, -whence came death for the lover, and shame and disgrace -for the lady.</p> - -<p>This is what doth come of despite and want of confidence -shown folk, which be often just as productive of ill -consequences as over-confidence. I have heard of a very -great nobleman which was moved one time to take all his -wife’s waiting-maids (and she was a well-born and very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span> -fair lady), and have them tortured to make them confess -all their misdeeds and the services they had rendered her -in her amours. However his first intent was carried no -further, to avoid too horrible a scandal. The first suggestion -came from a lady whose name I will not give, -who had a grudge against the said great lady. For the -which God did punish her later.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter illowe25 mt4" style="max-width: 65.5em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/i_chapter_heads.jpg" alt="chapter head scroll work" /> -</div> - -<h3 class="nobreak p2" id="ARTICLE_II">ARTICLE II</h3> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center bold p2">OF THE LOVE OF MAIDS</p> - - -<p class="noindent center bold p2">1.</p> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_s_coloured.jpg" width="70" height="70" alt="" /> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">So</span> now, following the order of Boccaccio, our -guide in this discourse, I come next to maids. -These, it must certainly be allowed, be of -their nature exceeding timid at first beginning, -and dare in no wise yield up what they hold so -dear, spite of the constant persuasion and advice their -fathers, mothers, kinsfolk and mistresses do give them, -along with most moving threats. So it is that, though -they should have all the good will thereto in the world, -yet they do deny themselves all ever they can; beside -they have ever before their eyes the terror lest their -bodies do play them false and betray them, else would -they try many a tasty morsel. Yet all have not this -scrupulousness; for shutting their eyes to all reflection, -some do rush boldly into it,—not indeed with head down, -but rather thrown well back. Herein do they make a -sore mistake, seeing how terrible is the scandal of a maid -deflowered, and of a thousandfold more import than for -married woman or widow. For a maid, this treasure of -hers once lost, is made the object of endless scandal and -abuse, is pointed at by all men, and doth lose many a -good opportunity of marriage. For all this, I have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span> -known not a few cases where some rough fellow or other -hath been found, either willingly, or of sudden caprice, -knowingly or unwittingly, on compulsion, to go throw -himself into the breach, and marry them, as I have described -elsewhere, all tarnished as they were, but right -glad to get them churched after all.</p> - -<p>Many such of either sex have I known in my day, and -in especial one maid which did most shamefully let herself -be got with child by a great -<span class="no-wrap">Prince,<a id="FNanchor_89" href="#Footnote_89" class="fnanchor">[89*]</a></span> -and that without -an attempt at hiding or dissembling her condition. On -being discovered, all she said was this: “What was I to -do? ’tis not my frailty you must blame, nor my lustfulness, -but only my over heedlessness and lack of foresight. -For an if I had been as clever and knowing as the most -part of my companions, which have done just as ill as I, -or even worse, but have had wit enough to cure their -pregnancy or conceal their lying-in, I should not now -be in this strait, nor had any known a word about it.” -Her companions did for this word wish her mighty ill; -and she was accordingly expelled the band by her mistress, -albeit ’twas reported this same mistress had ordered -her to yield to the wishes of the Prince, wishing to -get an hold over him and win him to herself. For all -this, however, the girl failed not some while after to make -a good match and contract a rich marriage, and presently -give birth to a noble offspring. Thus we see, an if -the poor child had been as wily as her comrades and -other girls, this luck had never been hers. And truly in -my day I have seen mere girls as clever and expert in -these matters as ever the oldest married woman, nay! -going so far as to be most effective and experienced -procuresses, and not content with their own satisfaction<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span> -only, to be after contriving the same delights for others -to boot.</p> - -<p>’Twas a lady in waiting at the French Court which did -invent and have performed that fine Comedy entitled the -<i>Paradis d’Amour</i> (Paradise of Love) in the Salle de -Bourbon with closed doors, at which performance were -none but actors and actresses present, forming players -and audience both together. Such as do know the story -will know what I mean. The play had six characters, -three male and three female. Of these one was a Prince, -who had his fair one, a great lady, though not too great -neither, yet did he love her dearly; the second was a -Lord, who did intrigue with the great Lady, a lady very -liberal of her favours; the third was a simple gentleman, -who did carry on with the maid, whom he did marry later. -For the gallant authoress was fain to see her own character -represented on the stage no less than the rest! -Indeed ’tis ever so with the author of a Comedy; he doth -put himself in the play, or else in the prologue. And so -did this one, and on my faith, girl as she was, did play -the part as well as the married women, if not better. -The fact is she had seen more of the world than just her -own country, and as the Spaniards say <i>rafinada en -Secobia</i>,—had had a Segovia polish or fining. This is a -proverb in Spain, Segovia being where the best cloths are -fined.</p> - -<p>I have heard tales told of many maids, who while serving -their lady mistresses as <i>Dariolettes</i>, or confidantes, -have been fain to taste and try the same dainties. Such -ladies moreover be often slaves in their own women’s -hands, from dread of their discovering them and publishing -abroad their amours, as I have noted above. ’Twas<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span> -a lady in waiting who did one day tell me her opinion,—that -’twas a mighty piece of folly for maids to sacrifice -their honour to their passions, and while some silly creatures -were restrained therefrom by their scruples, for -herself she would not deign to do it, the whole thing -ending in mere shame and disgrace. On the other hand -the trick of keeping one’s affair privy and secret made -all right, and girls were mere fools and unfit for this -wicked world which cannot help themselves and manage -the thing quietly.</p> - -<p>A Spanish lady, thinking her daughter was afraid of -the violence of the first wedding night, went to her and -began to encourage her and persuade her ’twas naught -at all and she would feel no pain, adding that herself -would be right glad to be in her place the better to show -her how to bear it. To this the girl replied, <i>Bezo las -manos, señora madre, de tal merced, que bien la tomaré -yo por mi</i>,—“Much thanks, my lady mother, for your -kind offer, but I will manage very well by myself.”</p> - -<p>I have heard a merry tale of a girl of very high birth, -who had contrived to afford herself much pleasure in her -life so far, and whom her family now spake of marrying -in Spain. One of her most special and privy friends said -one day to her, by way of jest, how surprised he was to -find that she, which had so dearly loved the <i>rising</i> quarter, -was now about to travel toward the setting or western, -because Spain lies to the westward. To this the -lady made answer, “Truly, I have heard mariners say, -men that have travelled far, how that the navigation of -the rising quarter is right pleasant and agreeable; and -indeed myself have steered many a time thither by the -compass I do alway carry on me. So I will take advantage<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span> -of this same instrument, when I am in the land of the -setting sun, yet to hie away me straight to the rising.” -Judicious commentators will find it easy enough to interpret -the allegory and make a shrewd guess at what -I point to. I leave you to judge by these words whether -the damsel had invariably limited her reading to the -“hours” of Our Lady, and none other.</p> - -<p>Another damsel I have heard of, and could give her -name, who hearing of the wonders of the city of Venice, -its singular beauties and the liberties there enjoyed of all, -and especially of harlots and courtesans, did exclaim to -one of her bosom friends, “I would to God we had despatched -thither all our wealth by letter of credit, and -were there arrived ourselves for to lead the gay and -happy existence of its courtesans, a life none other can -come near, even though we were Empresses of all the -whole world!” Truly a good wish and an excellent! And -in very deed I opine they that be fain of such a life could -hardly dwell in a better spot.</p> - -<p>No less do I admire another wish, expressed by a lady -of former days. She was questioning a poor slave escaped -from the Turks as to the tortures and sufferings -these did inflict on him and other unhappy Christian -captives, who did tell her enough and to spare of cruelties -so inflicted of every sort and kind. Presently she -did ask him what they did to women. “Alas and alas! -Madam,” said he, “they do it to them, and go on doing -it, till they die.”—“Well! I would to God,” she cried, -“I might die so, a martyr to the faith.”</p> - -<p>Three great Ladies, of whom one was a maid, being -together one day, as I am told, did begin telling their -wishes. One said, “I would fain have an apple-tree that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span> -should bear every year as many golden apples as it doth -common fruit.” The second, “I would have a meadow -that should yield me jewels and precious stones as many -as it doth flowers.” The third, which was a maid, “And -I would choose a dovecote, whereof the openings should -be worth as much to me as such and such a lady’s coop, -such and such a great King’s favourite, whose name I will -not speak; only I should like mine to be visited of more -pigeons than is hers.”</p> - -<p>These dames were of a different complexion from a -certain Spanish lady, whose life is writ in the History of -Spain, and who, one day when Alfonzo the Great, King -of Aragon, made a state entry into Saragossa, threw -herself on her knees before his Majesty to ask justice -of him. The King signifying his willingness to hear her, -she did ask to speak to him in private, and he did grant -her this favour. Hereupon she laid a complaint against -her husband, for that he would lie with her two and -thirty times a month, by day no less than a-nights, in -such wise that he gave her never a minute of rest or -respite. So the King did send for the husband and -learned of him ’twas true, the man deeming he could not -be in the wrong seeing it was his own wife; then the -King’s council being summoned to deliberate on the matter, -his Majesty did issue decree and ordered that he -should touch her but six times,—not without expressing -his much marvel at the exceeding heat and puissance -of the fellow, and the extraordinary coldness and continence -of the wife, so opposite to the natural bent of -other women (so saith the story), which be ever ready to -clasp hands and beseech their husbands or other men -to give them enough of it, and do make sore complaint<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span> -an if these do give to others what is their share by rights.</p> - -<p>Very different from this last was another lady, a young -girl of a good house, who the day after her wedding, -recounting over to her companions her adventures in the -night just done, “What!” cried she, “and is that all? -For all I had heard some of you say, and other women, -and men to boot, which do boast them so bold and gallant, -and promise such mountains of wondrous deeds, why! -o’ my faith, friends and comrades mine, the man (meaning -her husband), that made himself out so hot a lover -and valiant a wight, and so fine a runner at the ring, did -run but four all counted,—as it were the regular three -for the ring and one for the ladies.” We can but suppose, -as she made such complaint of scanty measure, she -would fain have had a round dozen to her share; but -everyone is not like the Spanish gentleman of our last -story.</p> - -<p>This is how they do make mock of their husbands. So -one, who when just wed on her first marriage night, did -play the prude and was for obstinately resisting her husband. -But he did bethink him to declare that, and if he -had to take his big dagger, ’twould be another game altogether, -and she would have something to cry out for; -whereat the child, fearing the big weapon he did threaten -her withal, did yield her instantly to his wishes. But next -time, she was no longer afeared, and not content with -the little one, did ask at first go off for the big one -he had threatened her with the night before. To which -the husband replied he had never a big one, and had -said so but in jest; so she must e’en be satisfied with -what little provision he had about him. Then she cried, -“Nay! ’tis very ill done, so to make mock of poor, simple<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span> -maids!” I wot not whether we should call this damsel -simple and ignorant, and not rather knowing and artful, -as having tried the thing before. I do refer the question -to the learned for decision.</p> - -<p>Bien plus estait simple une autre fille, laquelle s’estant -plaincte à la justice que un gallant l’ayant prise par -force, et lui enquis sur ce fait, il respondit: “Messieurs, -je m’en rapporte à elle s’il est orai, et si elle i’a pris mon -cas et l’a mis de sa main propre dans lie sien.—Ha! Messieurs, -(dit la fille) il est bien orai cela, mais qu’il ne l’enst -fait? Car, amprés qu’il m’ent couchée et trousée, il me -mit sou cas roide et poinctu comme un baston contre la -ventre, et m’en domisit de si grands coups que j’ens peur -qu’il me le percast et m’y fist im trou. Dame! je lui -pris ahers et le mis dans le tron qui estoit tout fait.” Si -cette fille estoit simplette, on le contrefaisoit, j m’en -<span class="no-wrap">rapporte.<a id="FNanchor_90" href="#Footnote_90" class="fnanchor">[90*]</a></span></p> - -<p>I will now tell a couple of stories of two married -women, of as great a simplicity as the last,—or, if you -prefer it so, of as great artfulness. The first was a very -great lady of mine acquaintance, a very fine woman and -much sought after for this reason. One day a very great -Prince did make offers to her, pressing her right eagerly -and promising her very fine and most advantageous conditions, -rank and riches without end for herself and her -husband, so much so that she did hearken at first and -give a willing ear to such seductive temptations. However -she would not right off consent, but in her simplicity -as a new made wife, knowing naught of the wicked -world, she did come and reveal the whole matter to her -husband, asking his advice whether she should do it or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span> -no. The husband firing up instantly, cried, “Never, -never, by God! little wife; what are you talking about, -what would you be at? ’Tis a foul deed, an irreparable -stain on both of us!”—“But, Sir,” returned the lady, -“we shall both be such grand folk, no one will have a -word to say against us.” In a word the husband did -refuse absolutely; but the lady, beginning presently to -pluck up a spirit and understand the world, was loath to -lose the chance, and did take her fling with the said -Prince and others beside, quite forgetting her erstwhile -simpleness. I have heard the story told by one which -had it of the Prince in question. The lady too had confided -it to him; and he had chid her, counselling her -that in such affairs one should never consult the husband, -who was of necessity a prejudiced party.</p> - -<p>Not less simple-minded, or very little, was another -young married dame I have heard of, to whom one day an -honourable gentleman did proffer his love, at the husband’s -very elbow, who for the moment was holding discourse -with another lady. The suitor did suddenly put -<i>son instrument entre les mains. Elle le prit et, le serrant -fort étroitement et se tournant vers son mari, lui dit: -“Mon mari, voyez le beau présent que me fait ce gentilhomme; -le recevraije? dites-le-moi.” Le pauvre gentilhomme, -étonné, retire à soi son épervier de si grande -rudesse que, recontrant une pointe de diamant qu’elle -avait au doigt, le lui esserta de telle façon d’un bout à -l’autre qu’elle le crut perdre du tout</i>, and suffered very -great pain and even came in danger of his life. He -rushed frantically from the room, watering all the place -with his gore which flowed in torrents. The husband<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span> -made no ado about running after him to utter any recriminations -on the matter; all he did was to burst out -a-laughing heartily, at once at the simplicity of his poor -little wife, and because the fellow was so soundly punished.</p> - -<p>Well! here is a village story I must needs tell, for -’tis not a bad one. A village wench, as they were leading -her to church on her wedding-day to the sound of tabor -and flute, and with much rustic ceremony, chancing to -catch sight of her girlhood’s lover, did shout out these -words to him, “Farewell, Pierre, farewell! I’ve got.... -You’ll never give it me any more. My mother’s married -me now,”—blurting the word right out. Her simplicity -was no less admirable than the soft regret she showed -for past days.</p> - -<p>One more, as we are on village tales. A pretty young -girl took a load of wood to sell at the market town. -Asked how much, she kept continually raising her price -at each offer made her by the dealers. “You shall have -so much,” they cried, “and something else into the bargain.”—“’Tis -well said,” she cried, “and thank you! -you’re the very man.”</p> - -<p>Right simple-minded wenches these, and very different, -they and their like, (for there be plenty such), from a -whole host of others in this wicked world, which be far -more double-dealing and knowing than these, never asking -counsel of their husbands nor never showing them such -presents as they may get.</p> - -<p>I heard an anecdote once in Spain of a young girl who -the first night after her marriage, as her husband was -struggling and sweating sore and hurting himself in his -attempts, did set up a laugh and tell him, <i>Señor, bien es<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span> -razon que seays martyr, pues que io soy virgen; mas pues -que io tomo la paciencia, bien la podeys tomar</i>,—“Sir, -’tis but right you should be a martyr, since I am a virgin; -but as I am so patient, you must be patient too.” Thus -in revenge of his making fun of his wife, did she make -fine fun of him. And in good sooth many a girl hath -good cause to make mock at such a time, especially when -they have learned afore what it all is, or have been informed -of others, or have themselves dreamed and pictured -out this mighty moment of delight, which they do -suppose so great and lasting.</p> - -<p>Another Spanish bride, telling over next morning her -husband’s merits, found several to praise, “only” she -added, “<i>que no era buen contador aritmetico, porque no -sabia multiplicar</i>,—that he was not a good arithmetician -at all, for he couldn’t multiply.”</p> - -<p>Another young maid of good birth and family (one -myself have known and talked with), on her wedding -night, when all the company were listening outside the -door according to custom, and the husband had just -given her the first embrace, and as he did rest a while, -though not yet asleep, asked her if she would like some -more of the same, “An if it please you, Sir!” she said. -Imagine the gallant bridegroom’s astonishment at such an -answer, and how he must have rubbed his ears.</p> - -<p>Maids which do say such tricky things so readily and -so soon after marriage, may well rouse strange suspicions -in their poor husbands’ breasts, and lead them to suppose -they be not the first that have dropped anchor in their -bay, nor will be the last so to do. For we cannot doubt, -an if a man do not strive hard and nigh kill himself to -work well his wife, she will soon bethink her of giving<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span> -him a pair of pretty horns, or as an old French proverb -put it,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Et qui ne la contente pas,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Va ailleurs chercher son repas.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Yet when a woman doth get all ever she can out of a -man, she doth knock him clean over, just doing him to -death. ’Tis an old saying: A woman should not take of a -lover all she would have, but must spare him what she -can; not so with an husband, him she should drain to -the very bones. And this is why, as the Spanish saw -hath it, <i>que el primero pensamiento de la muger, luego -que es casada, es de embiudarse</i>.—“A married woman’s -first thought is to contrive to make herself a widow.” -This saying is not universally true, as I do hope to show -in another place; it doth only apply to some women, and -not all.</p> - -<p>Some girls there be which, when no longer able to -restrain themselves, be ready to give themselves only to -Princes and great Lords, folk very meet to stir their -passion, both by reason of their gracious condescension -and the fine presents they make, as well as for love of -their good looks and pretty ways, for indeed all is fine -and point-device, though they may be silly coxcombs and -no more, as myself have seen some. Other girls again do -not seek after such at all, but do rather avoid them all -they can, because they have something of a repute for -being scandal-mongers, great boasters, indiscreet and -garrulous. They do prefer instead simple gentlemen of -prudent and discreet complexion, but alas! the number -of such is very small. Happy she who doth meet with -such an one! To avoid all these inconveniences, girls do<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span> -choose, (at least some do) their men-servants, some being -handsome men, some not,—and I have myself known -ladies which have acted so. Nor doth it take much urgency -to persuade the fellows; for putting them to bed -and getting them up as they do, undressing them, putting -their foot-gear on and off, and even changing their shifts,—and -I have seen many young girls at Court and elsewhere -which did make no sort of difficulty or scruple -about all this,—seeing so many pretty sights as they -must, they cannot but feel temptation. And I ween some -of their mistresses do of set purpose let them see their -charms freely. The end can only be that, when the eyes -have done their office, other senses be presently called -in to execute theirs.</p> - -<p>I knew once a fair damsel of the great world, a beauty -if ever there was one, which did make her man-servant -share her with a great Prince, who kept her as his mistress -and supposed he was the only happy possessor of -her favours. But herein the valet marched step by step -with him; and indeed she had made no ill choice, so -handsome a man was he and of so fine a figure; indeed, -no difference was to be noted. In fact the valet did have -the advantage of the Prince in many beauties of person; -and the latter knew never a word about the intimacy -till he finally quitted the lady on his marriage. Nor did -he for this treat the man any the worse, but was always -glad to see him; and whenever he caught sight of him in -passing, he would merely cry, “Is it possible now this -fellow was my rival? Well, well! I can quite believe it, -for barring my rank, he hath the better of me otherwise.” -He bore the same name as the Prince, and was a most -excellent tailor, one of the most famous at Court. There<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span> -was hardly a woman there, single or married, but he did -dress them, when they were for exquisite costumes. I -cannot tell whether he was used to dress them in the same -fashion he dressed his mistress, but they were invariably -well put on.</p> - -<p>I knew once a young girl of a good house, which had a -boy lackey of only fourteen, whom she had made her -fool and plaything. Amid their plays and foolings, she -did make no kind of difficulty whatever to let him kiss -her, as privily as it had been only a woman,—and this -very often before company, excusing it all by saying he -was her pretty fool and little playmate. I wot not -whether he went further, but I do know that afterward, -as wife and widow, and wife once more, she was ever a -most notable whore. Remember how she did kindle her -match at this first fire, so that she did never after lack -flame in any of her later and greater passions and escapades. -I had tarried a good year before I saw this -lady; but when I did behold her at home and with her -mother, who had the repute of being one of the most -accomplished of sham prudes of her day, laughing and -making light of the whole thing, I did foresee in a moment -how this little game would lead to a more serious -one, and one played in downright earnest, and that the -damsel would one day grow a very glutton at it, as was -afterward the case.</p> - -<p>I knew two sisters of a very good old family in Poitou, -and both unmarried, of whom strange tales were told, -and particularly with regard to a tall Basque footman -of their father’s. This fellow, under pretext of his fine -dancing, (for he could dance not only his native <i>brawls</i>, -but all the other dances as well), would commonly take<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span> -them out to dance and teach them the steps and be partner -to them. Later he did teach them the harlot’s reel, -and they gat themselves finely talked about. Still they -found no difficulty in getting husbands, for they were -very wealthy folk; and this word wealth covereth up all -defects, so as men will pick up anything, no matter how -hot and scalding. I knew the said Basque afterward as a -good soldier and brave man, and one that showed he had -had some training. He was dismissed his place, to avoid -scandal, and became a soldier in the Guard in M. d’Estrozze’s -regiment.</p> - -<p>I knew likewise another great house, and a noble, the -lady mistress whereof did devote herself to bringing up -young maids of birth in her household, amongst others -sundry kinswomen of her husband’s. Now the lady being -very sickly and a slave to doctors and apothecaries, there -was always plenty of these to be found thereabouts. -Moreover young girls be subject to frequent sicknesses, -such as pallors, anæmia, fevers and the like, and it so -happened two of them fell ill of a quartan ague, and -were put under the charge of an apothecary to cure them. -And he did dose them well with his usual drugs and medicines; -but the best of all his remedies was this, that he -did sleep with one of them,—the presumptuous villain, for -he had to do with as fair and honourable a maid as any -in France, and one a great King had been well content -to enjoy; yet must Master Apothecary have his will of -her.</p> - -<p>Myself knew the damsel, who did certainly deserve a -better lover. She was married later, and given out for -virgin,—and virgin she was found to be. Herein did she -show her cunning to some purpose; for <i>car, puisqu’elle<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span> -ne pouvait tenir son eau, elle s’adressa à celui qui donnait -les antidotes pour engarder d’engrosser, car c’est ce que -les filles craignent le plus: dont en cela il y en a de si -experts qui leur donnent des drogues qui les engardent -très bien d’engrosser; ou bien, si elles engrossent, leur font -écouler leur grossesse so subtilement et si sagement que -jamais on ne s’en aperçoit, et n’en sent-on rien que le vent</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Ainsi que j’en ai ouï parler d’une fille, laquelle avait -été autrefois nourrie fille de la feue reine de Navarre -Marguerite. Elle vint par cas fortunt, ou à engrosser -sans qu’elle y pensât pourtant. Elle rencontra un rusé -apothicaire, qui, lui ayant donné un breuvage, lui fit -évader son fruit, qui avait déjà six mois, pièce par pièce, -morceau par morceau, si aisément, qu’étant en ses affaires -jamais elle n’en sentit ni mal ni douleur; et puis après -se maria galamment, sans que le mari y connut aucune -trace; car on leur donne des remèdes pour se faire paraître -vierges et pucelles comme auparavant, ainsi que -j’en ai allégué un au</i> <span class="smcap">Discoups des Cocus</span>. <i>Et un que -j’en ouï dire à un empirique ces jours passés, qu’il faut -avoir des sangsues et les mettre à la nature, et faire par -là tirer et sucer le sang: lesquelles sangsues, en suçant, -laisent et engendrent de petites ampoules et fistules -pleines de sang; si bien que le galant mari, qui vient le -soir des noces les assaillir, leur crève ces ampoules d’où -le sang sort, et lui et elle s’ensanglantent, qui est une -grande joie à l’un et à l’autre; et par ainsi,</i> l’honor della -citella è salva. <i>Je trouve ce remède plus souverain que -l’autre, s’il est vrai; et s’ils ne sont bons tous deux, il -y en a cent autres qui sont meilleurs, ainsi que le savent -très bien ordonner, inventer et appliquer ces messieurs les -médecins savants et experts apothicaires. Violà pourquoi<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span> -ces messieurs ont ordinairement de très belles et -bonnes fortunes, car ils savent blesser et remédier, ainsi -qui fit la lance de Pélias.</i></p> - -<p>Myself knew the Apothecary I spake of but now, as to -whom I will add only one word more in passing,—how -I saw him at Geneva the first time I did visit Italy, for -at that time the common road for French travellers -thither was by Switzerland and the Grisons, because of -the wars then raging. He came to see me at my lodging. -Of a sudden I did ask him what he was doing in that -town, and whether he was there to medicine pretty girls, -the same as he had done in France. He answered me -he was there to repent of such misdoings. “What!” said -I, “you have not such dainty bits to taste here as you -had there?”—“Ah! Sir,” he replied, “’tis because God -hath called me, and I am enlightened of his spirit, and -I have now knowledge of his Holy Word.”—“Yes! yes!” -I went on, “in those days too you were a pious Protestant, -and did combine medicine for the body and for the soul, -preaching to the girls and giving them some fine instruction.”—“But, -my dear Sir, I do know my God better -these days,” he returned again, “than then, and would -fain sin no more.” I need not repeat much other discourse -we had on this subject, both seriously and in jest; -but the impudent scamp did certainly enjoy that pretty -bit of flesh, more meet for some gallant gentleman than -for such as he. It was as well for him he did quit that -house pretty smartly; else had he fared ill. However, -enough of this. Cursed be the fellow, for the hate and -envy I do bear him,—as did M. de Ronsard to a physician -which was used to come night and morning rather to see -the poet’s mistress, and feel her breasts and bosom and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span> -rounded arm, than to medicine her for the fever she had. -He writ a very charming sonnet on the subject; ’tis in -the second book of his <i>Amours</i>, and begins thus:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Hé que je porte et de hayne et d’envie</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Au médecin qui vient et matin,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Sans nul propos, tastonner le tétin,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Le sein, le ventre et les flancs de ma mye.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>I do bear a like fierce jealousy against a physician -which did similarly toward a fair and noble lady I was -enamoured -<span class="no-wrap">of,<a id="FNanchor_91" href="#Footnote_91" class="fnanchor">[91*]</a></span> -and from whom I never gat any such -privileges and familiarities, though I had loved them -better than the winning of a little kingdom. These gentry -are for sure exceeding agreeable to dames and damsels, -and do have fine adventures with them, an if they seek -after such. I have known two physicians at Court, one -M. Castellan, physician to the Queen Mother, the other -the Seigneur Cabrian, physician to M. de Nevers, and -who had held the same office with Ferdinand de Gonzague. -Both have enjoyed successes with women, by all -one hears, that the greatest noblemen at Court would -have sold their souls to the devil for to have gone shares -with them.</p> - -<p>We were discoursing one day, the late Baron de Vitaux -and myself, with M. Le Grand, a famous physician of -Paris, a man of agreeable manners and excellent counsel, -he having come to visit the said Baron, who was ill of some -amorous indiscretion. Both of us questioning him on -sundry little ways and peculiarities of the ladies, he did -entertain us finely, and told us a round dozen of tales -that did verily take the prize. So engrossed did he grow<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span> -herewith, that, nine o’clock striking, he cried, getting up -from the chair where he was seated: “Truly, I am a greater -simpleton than you two, which have kept me here two -good hours chattering with you rascals, and all the while -I have been forgetting six or seven sick folk I am bound -to go visit.” So with a word of farewell, he doth hie him -away, though not without a further last word in reply -to us, when we called after him: “Rascal yourself, Doctor! -Oh! you doctors know some fine things and do ’em -too, and you especially, for you talk like a past master -of the art.” He answered us, looking down, “True -enough, true enough! we both know and do some fine -doings, for we do possess sundry secrets not open to all -the world. But I’m an old man now, and have bid a long -farewell to Venus and her boy. Nowadays I leave all this -to you younger rascals.”</p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">2.</p> - -<p>We read in the life of St. Louis, in the History of -Paulus Aemilius, of a certain Marguerite, -Countess of Flanders, sister of Jeanne, daughter -of Baldwin I., Emperor of the Greeks, and -his successor, seeing she had no children,—so says History. -She was given in her early girlhood a teacher named Guillaume, -a man esteemed of an holy life and who had already -taken minor orders. Yet did this in no wise hinder him to -get two children of his fair pupil, which were christened -Baldwin and John, and all so privily as that few folk knew -aught of the matter. The two boys were later declared -legitimate by the Pope. What fine teaching, and what a -teacher! So much for History.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span></p> - -<p>I knew a great Lady at Court which had the repute -of being over familiar with her reader and teacher,—so -much so indeed that one day Chicot, the King’s -<span class="no-wrap">jester,<a id="FNanchor_92" href="#Footnote_92" class="fnanchor">[92*]</a></span> -did openly reproach her therewith in presence of his -Majesty and many other personages of the Court, asking -her if she were not ashamed to have herself loved (saying -the word right out) of so ugly and base a loon as yonder -fellow, and if she had not wit to choose a better man. -The company hereon began to laugh uproariously and -the lady to weep, supposing that the King had abetted -the game; for strokes of the sort were quite in character -with his usual play. Other very great ladies and high -Princesses I have known, which every day would amuse -themselves with making their Secretaries, whom I have -likewise known, write, or rather pretend to write, and -have fine games. Or if they did not call for them to -write, having naught to say, then would they make them -read aloud, for to give a better colour to the whole -thing, declaring how reading themselves did weaken their -sight.</p> - -<p>Great ladies which do make choice of suchlike paramours -be quite inexcusable and most blameworthy, seeing -they have their liberty of action, and full freedom and -opportunity to choose whom they will. But poor girls -which be abject slaves of father and mother, kinsfolk -and guardians and mistresses, and timid to boot, are -constrained to pick up any stone they can find for their -purpose, never thinking whether it be cold or hot, roast -or boiled. And so, according as occasion offer, they do -generally resort to their men-servants, to their school-master -and teacher, to fellows of the artist craft, lute-players, -fiddlers, dancing masters, painters, in a word<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span> -their different instructors in knowledge and accomplishments, -and even sometimes preachers of religion and holy -monks, as Boccaccio doth describe and the Queen of -Navarre in her <i>Nouvelles</i>. The like is done by pages, as -myself have noted, lackeys, and especially stage-players, -with whom I have known two maids of honour desperately -in love and not scrupling to indulge the same. Poets too -I have known in some cases to have debauched fair maids, -wives and widows.</p> - -<p>These do fondly love to be praised and worshipped, -and with this bait are caught, as indeed by almost any -they do find convenient and can attract to them. Lawyers -again be very dangerous folk in these matters.</p> - -<p>Now note why ’tis Boccaccio and other writers with -him do find maids to be more constant in love and more -steadfast than wives or widows. ’Tis because they do -resemble persons afloat on a river in a sinking boat. They -that cannot swim at all do spring at the first branches -they can catch hold of, and do grasp these firmly and -obstinately till they see help arrive. Others that can -swim, do leap into the water and strike out boldly till -they have reached the bank. Even so young maids, -whenas they have gotten a lover, do hold and keep him -steadfastly, the one they have first chose, and will in no -wise let him go, but love him steadfastly. This cometh -of the dread that, having no free choice and proper opportunity, -they may not be able, an if they lose him, -to get another such as they would wish. Whereas married -women and widows, which do know the wiles of love -and are well experienced, and have full liberty and all -convenience to swim in all waters without danger, may -choose what mate they please; and if they weary of one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span> -lover or lose him, why! they can straight get another, or -even take two. For with them ’tis ever a case of “one -lost, two got back.”</p> - -<p>Beside, young girls have not the means, the money and -crown-pieces, to win them new lovers every day; for all -ever they can give their lovers is some small gift of a -lock of hair, a little seed pearl or so, a bracelet, a small -ring or a scarf, or other insignificant presents that cost -almost naught. For high-born as a girl may be (I have -seen it myself), and no matter of how great an house -and how rich an heiress, she is kept so short of money, -by father, mother, kinsfolk or guardians, as the case may -be, that she simply hath not the means to give much to -her lover, nor scarce ever to untie her purse widely,—unless -it be her purse in front. Besides, girls be of themselves -miserly, if for no other reason, yet because they -be forced to it, having scarce any means of extravagance; -for generosity in giving doth rest and depend above all on -the ability to gratify it. On the contrary wives and -widows can dispose of their wealth very freely, when they -have any; and above all, when they have fancied a man, -and be taken with passion and caprice for him, there is -naught they will not sell and give away to the very shift -on their back, rather than not have enjoyment of him. -Herein they are just like gluttons and folk that be slaves -of their mouths, who taking a fancy to a tid-bit, must -have the same, no matter what it cost them at the market. -Poor maids be in quite other case; whatsoever they can -get, be it good or bad, this must they stop and buy.</p> - -<p>I could bring forward a whole host of their intrigues, -and their divers appetites and curious preferences. But -I should never get me done at that rate; beside what<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span> -would such tales be worth, unless the subjects were given -by name and surname. But this is a thing I will not do -at any price, for I desire to bring shame on no woman; and -I have made profession to avoid in this my book all evil-speaking -whatsoever, so that none may have aught to -reproach me with on the score of scandal-mongering. -However to tell my tales, suppressing the names, in this -can be no harm. I do leave my readers to guess the persons -intended; and many a time they will suppose it to -be one, though all the while ’tis quite another.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">3.</p> - -<p>Now just as we do see different sorts of wood -of such different nature, that some will burn -when quite green, as the ash and the beech, -but others, be they as dry, old and well seasoned -as you please, for instance the elm, the alder and -others, do burn only as slowly and tediously as possible, -while many others, following the general nature of all -dry and old wood, do blaze up in their dryness and oldness -so rapidly and suddenly ’tis rather a destroying and -instant reducing to ashes than burning proper, so is -the like true of women, whether maids, wives or widows. -Some, so soon as ever they be come to the first greenness -of their age, do burn so easily and well, you would say -from their very mother’s womb they do draw thence an -amorousness; as did the fair Laïs from her fair mother -Tymandra, that most famous harlot, and an hundred -thousand others which herein do take after the good -whores their mothers. Nay! sometimes they do not so -much as wait for the age of maturity, that may be put<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span> -at twelve or thirteen, to begin loving, but are at it -sooner yet. This happened not twelve years agone at -Paris to a pastry-cook’s child, which was discovered to -be pregnant at nine years of -<span class="no-wrap">age.<a id="FNanchor_93" href="#Footnote_93" class="fnanchor">[93]</a></span> -The girl being very -sick with her pregnancy, and her father having taken a -specimen of her urine to a physician, the latter said at -once she had no other sickness but only that she was -with child. “What!” cried the father; “Why, Sir! my -daughter is only nine years old.” Who so astonished as -the doctor? “’Tis all one,” said he; “of a surety, she -is with child.” And after examining her more closely, -he did indeed find her so. The child afterward confessing -with whom she had had to do, her gallant was condemned -to death by the judges, for having gone with her at so -very tender an age. I much regret I have come to give -this example and mention the thing here, seeing I had -made up my mind not to sully my paper with suchlike -mean folk, but to deal only with great and well-born -persons.</p> - -<p>Herein I have somewhat gone wide of my purpose, but -the story being so rare and uncommon, I must e’en be -excused.</p> - -<p>This doth remind me of a tale of a brave and gallant -Lord if ever there was one, since dead, which was one day -making complaint of the amplitude of women’s affairs -with whom he had had to do, as well maids as married -ladies. He declared ’twould come to his having to look -for mere children, just come from the cradle so to speak, -so as not to find so wide a space of open sea as he had done -with the rest, but get better pleasure by swimming in a -narrow strait. An if he had addressed these words to a -certain great and honourable dame I do know, she would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span> -have made him the same answer she did to another gentleman -of the great world, to whom, on his making a like -complaint, she did retort thus: “I wot not which hath -better cause of complaint, you men of our width and over -amplitude, or we women of your tenuity and over smallness, -or rather your tiny, tiny littleness; truly we have -as much to lament in you as ever you in us.”</p> - -<p>The lady was right enough in what she said. Similarly -another great lady, one day at Court looking curiously -at the great bronze Hercules in the fountain at Fontainebleau, -as she was a-walking with an honourable gentleman -which did escort her, his hand beneath her arm, did complain -that the said Hercules, albeit excellently well -wrought and figured otherwise, was not so well proportioned -in all his members as should be, forasmuch as his -middle parts were far too small and out of proper measure, -in no wise corresponding to his huge colossus of a -body. The gentleman replied he did not agree with what -she said, for ’twas to be supposed that in those days -ladies were not so wide as at the present.</p> - -<p>A very great lady and noble -<span class="no-wrap">Princess<a id="FNanchor_94" href="#Footnote_94" class="fnanchor">[94]</a></span> -learning how -that certain folk had given her name to a huge great culverin, -did ask the reason why. Whereupon one present -answered: “’Tis for this, Madam, because it hath a calibre -greater and wider than all the rest.”</p> - -<p><i>Si est-ce pourtant qu’elles y ont trouvé assez de remède, -et en trouvent tous les jours assez pour rendre leurs portes -plus étroites, carrées et plus malaisées d’entrée; dont aucunes -en usent, et d’autres non; mais nonobstant, quand -le chemin y est bien battu et frayé souvent par continuelle -habitation et fréquentation, ou passages d’enfants, -les ouvertures de plusieurs en sont toujours plus grandes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span> -et plus larges. Je me suis là un peu perdu et dévoyé; -mais puisque ç’a été à propos il n’y a point de mal, et je -retourne à mon chemin.</i></p> - -<p>Many other young girls there be which let safely pass -this early, tender, sappy time of life, waiting a greater -maturity and dryness, whether because they be naturally -cold at first beginning and start, or that they be kept -close guarded, as is very needful with some. Others there -be so steadfast, the winds and tempests of winter would -avail naught to shake or stir them. Others again be so -foolish and simple-minded, so raw and ignorant, as that -they would not so much as hear the name of love. So -have I heard of a woman which did affect the virtuous -prude, that an if she did hear the word harlot mentioned, -she would instantly faint. A friend telling this story to -a certain great Lord in presence of his wife, the latter did -exclaim: “She’d better not come here, that woman; for -if she doth faint to hear speak of whores, she’ll die right -out to see one.”</p> - -<p>On the other hand there be some girls which from the -first moment they begin to feel they have a heart, grow -so tame they will eat from the hand at once. Others be -so devout and scrupulous, fearing so sore the commandments -of the Lord our God, that they do quite neglect that -of love. Yet have I seen many of these same devout patterers -of prayers, these women that be forever a-kissing -of images and all but living in churches, which did under -this hypocritical veil cover and conceal the fire of their -passions, to the end that by such false and feigned semblance -the world might perceive never a trace of them, -but deem them perfect prudes, or even half way to being -saints like St. Catherine of Sienna, by the which professions<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span> -they have often succeeded in deceiving all mankind. -Thus have I heard it related of a very great Princess, a -Queen indeed, now dead, who when she was fain to make -love to any man, (for she was exceeding given that way), -would invariably begin her conversation with the love we -do owe to God, and then suddenly bring it round to carnal -love, and what she did want of her interlocutor, whereof -she did before long come to the practice or quintessential -part. This is how these devotees, or bigots rather, do -cajole us men; such of us that is as be not well versed in -wiles of the sort and know not life.</p> - -<p>I have heard a tale, though I wot not if it be true. Anyway -of late years, on occasion of a general procession at -a certain city, was seen a woman, well born or not, bare-footed -and in great contrition, playing the penitent with -might and main,—and it was in Lent. Straight from -there she hied her away to dine with her lover on a quarter -of kid and a ham. The savour did penetrate to the street, -and going up to her chamber, folk found her in the midst -of this glorious feast. She was arrested and condemned -to be led through the town with the joint on a spit over -her shoulder and the ham hanging at her neck. Was not -this a meet and proper punishment?</p> - -<p>Other ladies there be so proud and haughty they do -scorn heaven and earth in a way of speaking, and utterly -snub and reject men and all their offers. But for such all -that is need is to wait and have patience and perseverance, -for with these and time you do surely subdue them -and find them humble enough at last, for ’tis the property -of highmindedness and pride, after much swelling and -exaltation, presently to come down and bate its lofty -claims. And with these same proud dames, I have seen<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span> -many instances where after scorning love and all that -spake to them thereof, they have given in and loved like -any others, or have even wedded husbands of mean estate -and in no way their equals. Thus doth Love make mock -of them and punish them for their hard-heartedness, taking -especial delight in attacking them more than other -folk, forasmuch as the victory is then a prouder one, as -vanquishing pride.</p> - -<p>I knew erstwhile a Court damsel, so proud and scornful -that when some gallant man of the world would come -to address her and speak of love, she would ever answer -him so haughtily and with so great contempt, in words so -fierce and arrogant (for she had a gift of speech as good -as any), that presently they did cease altogether. But -an if any did chance now and again still to try and vanquish -her pride, ’twas a sight how she would snub them -and send them packing with words and looks and scornful -gestures; for she was very clever at this game. In -the end Love did surprise and sore punish her, for she -gave in to one which did get her with child some score -of days only before her marriage; yet was this lover in no -wise to be compared with many other honourable gentlemen -which had aforetime been fain to be her suitors. -Herein we can only say with Horace, <i>sic placet Veneri</i>, -“such is Venus’ pleasure,”—for these be miracles.</p> - -<p>’Twas my humour once while at Court to be lover to a -fair and honorable damsel, accomplished and expert if -ever woman was, and of a very good house, but proud -and highhanded; and I was very much smit with her indeed. -I did make up my mind to court her, but alway -to deal with her in the same arrogant spirit she did use -in her words and answers to me,—as the proverb saith,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span> -“When Greek meets Greek.” Yet did she show no resentment -for all this, for indeed, all the while I was treating -her so cavalierly, I was used to praise her exceedingly, -seeing there is naught doth more soften a woman’s heart -than commendation whether of her beauty and charms or -of her proud spirit, even declaring how that her port did -much become her, forasmuch as she kept her from all -common familiarity, and that any woman, damsel or dame, -which did make her too common and familiar, not maintaining -a haughty port and high repute, was not worthy -to be so courted. For all which I did but respect her the -more, and would never call her by any other name but -<i>my lady Disdain</i>. Whereat she was so well pleased she -did herself likewise choose to call me always <i>Master Arrogance</i>.</p> - -<p>So ever continuing, I did court her long and faithfully; -and I may boast me I had as large a share of her -good graces as any great Lord at Court which did care -to court her, or larger. However a chief favourite of the -King, a brave and gallant gentleman without a doubt, did -take her from me, and by favour of his King did win and -marry her. Natheless, so long as she did live, the connection -was ever kept up betwixt us, and I have always -honoured her well. I know not an if I shall be blamed -for having told this tale, for ’tis a common saying that -all tales about a man’s self be bad. Anyway I have let -it out this time; as indeed throughout my book I have -related not a few stories of myself in divers relations, -though I do generally suppress the name.</p> - -<p>Other girls there be again of so merry a complexion -and so lighthearted, so devoted to amusement and enjoyment, -they never have another thought in their heads<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span> -but to laugh, and make sport and pastime, and never time -to hear or dream of anything else but only their little -amusements. I have known many such which had rather -hear a fiddle play, or dance or leap or run, than hearken -to any love discourse whatsoever; while other some do -so adore the chase they should better be called servants -of Diana than of Venus. I did once know a brave and -valiant Lord, since dead, which fell so deep in love with -a maid, and a great lady to boot, that he was like to die; -“for whenas I am fain,” he used to say, “to declare my -passion, she doth answer me never a word but about her -dogs and her hunting. I would to heaven I were metamorphosed -into a hunting-dog or greyhound, and my -soul entered in their body, according to Pythagoras’ -opinion, to the end she might give some heed to my love, -and I be healed of my wound.” Yet afterward did he leave -her, for he was not good lackey or huntsman enough to -go everywhere a-following her about, wherever her lusty -humours, her pleasures and amusements might lead her.</p> - -<p>Yet must we note one fact. Maids of this sort, after -leaving their chickenhood behind and outgrowing the pip, -(as we say of poultry), having taken their fill of these -childish amusements, do always come, at long last, to essay -a woman’s pleasures too. Such young girls do resemble -little wolf-cubs, which be so pretty, engaging and -playful in their downy youth; yet being come to maturity, -they do ever take to evil courses and ravening and killing. -The sort of girls I am speaking of do ever the like, -who after much sport and youthful merriment, after -pleasures of all kinds, hunting, dancing, leaping, skipping -and jigging, do always, I ween, indulge at last in -dame Venus’ gentle sport. In a word, to put it briefly,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span> -scarce ever a one of the sex is seen, maid, wife or widow, -but sooner or later she and all her sisters do burn, in -season or out of season,—as do all woods, excepting only -one, yclept the <i>larix</i>, the which they do in no wise resemble.</p> - -<p>Now this Larix is a wood which will never burn, and -maketh neither fire, flame nor ash, as Julius Cæsar did -find. On his return back from Gaul, he had ordered the -inhabitants of Piedmont to furnish him vivers, and establish -magazines on his main line of march. He was duly -obeyed, except by the garrison of a castle called <i>Larignum</i>, -whither had withdrawn certain ill-disposed rascals, -recusants and rebels, the result being Cæsar had to turn -back and besiege the place. Coming nigh the fortress, he -saw its defences were only of wood, whereat he did -straightway make mock, deeming they would immediately -take the same. Wherefore he did give orders at once to -collect large plenty of fagots and straw to set fire to the -bulwarks, and soon was there so huge a conflagration and -mass of flame that all hoped soon to see the ruin and -destruction of the fort. But lo! whenas the fire was -burned out and the flame disappeared, all were exceeding -astonished, for they beheld the stronghold in the same -state as before and quite unhurt, neither burned nor -ruined one whit. This did compel Cæsar to resort to -other means, mining to wit, which did at last bring those -within to come to terms and render up the place. From -this Cæsar did learn the virtues of this larix-wood, from -the which the castle had its name of <i>Larignum</i>, because -it was built and defended of the same.</p> - -<p>I ween there be many fathers, mothers, kinsmen and -husbands, that would dearly like their daughters and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span> -wives should share the properties of this wood, that they -should burn fiercely without its leaving mark or effect -behind. They would have a far more unruffled mind and -not so many suspicions a-buzzing in their heads, nor -would there be so many whores on show nor cuckolds before -the world. But ’tis not really desirable in any shape -or form, for the world would be clean depopulated, and -folk would live therein like blocks of stone, without pleasure -or satisfaction. So many persons I wot of, of either -sex, would say; and indeed Nature would be left imperfect, -instead of very perfect as she is. Following her -kindly lead as our best captain, we need never fear to lose -the right path.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter illowe25 mt4" style="max-width: 65.5em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/i_chapter_heads.jpg" alt="chapter head scroll work" /> -</div> - -<h3 class="nobreak p2" id="ARTICLE_III">ARTICLE III</h3> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center bold p2">OF THE LOVE OF WIDOWS</p> - - -<p class="noindent center bold p2">1.</p> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_w_coloured.jpg" width="70" height="70" alt="" /> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Well!</span> enough said of maids; ’tis but right we -now proceed to speak of widows in their turn.</p> - -<p>The love of widows is good, easy and advantageous, -seeing they be in full liberty of action, -and in no sense slaves of fathers, mothers, brothers, kinsmen -and husbands, nor yet of any legal bar, a still more -important point. A man may make love and lie with a -widow as much as ever he please, he is liable to no penalty, -as he is with maids or married women. In fact the Romans, -which people hath given us the most of the laws -we have, did never make this act punishable, either in -person or property. I have this from a great lawyer, who -did cite Papinian for confirmation of the point, that -great Roman jurisconsult, who treating of adultery declares; -if occasionally under this term adultery hath been -inadvertently included lawless intercourse with maid or -widow, ’tis a misuse of words. In another passage the -same authority saith: the heir hath no right of reproach -or concern with the character of the deceased man’s -widow, except only if the deceased had in his lifetime -brought action against his wife on this ground; then -could the said heir take up and carry on the prosecution,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span> -but not otherwise. And as a fact in all the whole of -Roman law is no penalty ordained for the widow, except -only for one that did marry again within the year of her -mourning, or who without re-marrying had borne a child -subsequently to the eleventh month of her first year of -widowhood, this first year being deemed sacred to the -honour of her former husband. There was likewise a law -made by Heliogabalus, that no widow must marry again -for one year after the death of her husband, to the end -she might have due leisure to bewail his loss and deliberate -carefully on the choice of a successor. A truly paternal -law, and an excellent reason i’ faith! As for a widow’s -original dowry, the heir could not in any case rob her -thereof, even though she should have given her person -to every possible form of naughtiness. And for this my -authority did allege a very good reason; for the heir -having no other thought but only the property, if once -a door were opened to him to accuse the widow in hope of -making her forfeit this and so rob her of her dowry, she -would be exposed at once to every calumny his malignity -could invent. So there would be never a widow, no matter -how virtuous and unoffending, could safeguard her from -slanderous actions on the part of enterprising heirs.</p> - -<p>All this would seem to show, I think, that the Roman -ladies did have good opportunities and occasion for self-indulgence. -No need then to be astonished if one of them, -in the reign of Marcus Aurelius, (as is found writ in that -Emperor’s life), as she was walking in her husband’s -funeral procession, and in the midst of all her cries, sobs, -sighs, tears and lamentations, did so strictly press the -hand of the gentleman which was her escort, as to surely -signify thereby her willingness for another taste of love<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span> -and marriage. Accordingly at the end of a year,—for he -could not marry her before, without a special dispensation, -as was done for Pompey whenas he did wed Cæsar’s daughter, -but this was scarce ever given but to the greatest -personages,—he did marry the lady, having meantime -enjoyed some dainty foretastes, and picked many an early -loaf out of the batch, as the saying goes. Mighty fain -was this good lady to lose naught by procrastination, but -take her measures in good time; yet for all this, she did -lose never a doit of her property and original dowry.</p> - -<p>Thus fortunate were Roman widows,—as are still in -the main their French sisters, which for giving heart and -fair body satisfaction, do lose naught of their rights; -albeit several cases hereanent have been pleaded before -our parliaments. Thus I wot of a great and wealthy -French Lord, which did carry on a long process against -his sister-in-law concerning her dowry, charging her that -her life had been lascivious and with another crime of a -less gay sort to boot. Natheless did she win her case; -and the brother-in-law was obliged to dower her handsomely -and give her all that did belong to her. Yet was -the governance of her son and daughter taken from her, -seeing she had married again. This the judges and noble -councillors of the parliaments do look to, forbidding -widows that re-marry to have guardianship of their children. -In spite of this I do know of widows which within -the last few years have successfully asserted their rights, -though re-married, over their daughters being under age, -against their brothers-in-law and other kinsmen; but then -they were greatly helped by the influence of the Prince -which was their protector. Indeed there is never a law a -fine <i>motte</i> cannot traverse. Of these subjects I do now<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span> -refrain me from speaking more, seeing ’tis not my trade; -so thinking to say something mighty clever, ’tis very -like I may say what is quite from the point. I do refer me -to our great men of the law.</p> - -<p>Now of our widows some be alway glad to try marriage -once again and run its risks, like mariners that twice, -thrice and four times saved from shipwreck do again and -again go back to the sea, and as married women do, which -in the pains of motherhood do swear and protest they will -never, never go back to it again, and no man shall ever be -aught to them, yet no sooner be they sound and clean -again, but they take to the same old dance once more. So -a Spanish lady, being in her pangs, had a candle lighted -in honour of Our Lady of Mont-Sarrat, who much succours -women in child-birth. Yet did she fail not to have -sore pain and swear right earnestly she would never go -back to it any more. She was no sooner delivered but -turning to her woman who held the candle still alight, she -said, <i>Serra esto cabillo de candela para otra vez</i>, “Put -away that bit of candle for another time.”</p> - -<p>Other ladies do prefer not to marry; and of these are -always some, and always have been, which coming to be -widows in the flower of their age, be content to stay so. -Ourselves have seen the Queen Mother, which did become -a widow at the age of seven or eight and thirty years, and -did ever after keep that state; and fair, pleasant and -agreeable as she was, did never so much as think of any -man to be her second husband. No doubt it may be said -on the other side,—Whom could she have wedded suitable -to her lofty estate and comparable with the great King -Henri, her late lord and master; beside she would thereby -have lost the government of the Kingdom, which was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span> -better worth than an hundred husbands, and its enjoyment -more desirable and pleasant? Yet is there no advantage -Love doth not make women forget; wherefore -she is the more to be commended and worthy to be recorded -in the temple of fame and immortality. For she did master -and command her passions,—not like another Queen, which -unable to restrain herself, did wed her own steward of the -household, by name the Sieur de -<span class="no-wrap">Rabodanges.<a id="FNanchor_95" href="#Footnote_95" class="fnanchor">[95*]</a></span> -This the -King, her son, did at first beginning find exceeding strange -and bitter; but yet, because she was his mother, he did -excuse and pardon the said Rabodanges for having married -her; and it was arranged that by day, before the -world, he should serve her alway as steward, not to deprive -her, being the King’s mother, of her proper state and dignity, -but by night she should make of him what pleased -her, using him either as servant or master at her choice, -this being left to their own discretion and good pleasure. -We may readily imagine who was master then; for every -woman, be she as high-born as she may, coming to this -point, is ever subject to the superior male, according to -the law of nature and humanity in this matter. I have the -tale from the late Grand Cardinal de Lorraine, second of -the name and title, which did tell it at Poissy to King -Francis II., the time he did institute the eighteen knights -of the Order of Saint Michael,—a very great number, -and one never seen or heard of before -<span class="no-wrap">then.<a id="FNanchor_96" href="#Footnote_96" class="fnanchor">[96*]</a></span> -Among -others was the Seigneur de Rabodanges, a very old man, -that had not been seen for years at Court, except on occasion -of some of our warlike expeditions, he having -withdrawn soon after the death of M. de Lautrec out of -disappointment and despite, a common enough case, having -lost his good master, the Captain of whose Guard he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span> -was, on his journey to the Kingdom of Naples, where he -died. And the Cardinal did further say he did believe -this M. de Rabodanges was descended of the marriage in -question.—Some while agone a lady of France did marry -her page, so soon as ever his pagehood was expired and -he his own master, thinking she had worn her widow’s -weeds quite long enough.</p> - -<p>Well, to leave this sort of widows, and say somewhat -of more high-minded and prudent dames.</p> - -<p>We have had our Queen of France, Donna Isabelle -of Austria, which was wife to the late King Charles IX., -whom we may in all ways declare to have been one of the -best, gentlest, wisest and most virtuous Queens that ever -reigned of all the Kings and Queens that ever were. This -I may confidently affirm, and every one that hath ever -seen her or heard her speak will say the same, and this -without disparaging others and with the most perfect -truth. She was a very beautiful Princess, with features -and face as fair and delicate as any lady at the Court, -and most affable. Her figure too was very fine, albeit -she did scarce reach the middle height. She was very sensible -and prudent moreover, most virtuous and good-natured, -and one that did never hurt or displeasure any, -or give offence by so much as the smallest word. And indeed -she was very careful of her speech, saying but very -little and alway in her native Spanish.</p> - -<p>She was truly pious, but no wise bigoted, not overmuch -manifesting her religion by outward acts and shows, and -an extremity of devotion, such as I have seen some of our -prayer-patterers display, but rather without missing any -of the regular hour for supplication to God, she did -employ these well and sufficiently, without going out of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span> -her way to borrow other extraordinary ones. ’Tis very -true, as I have heard some of her ladies declare, that -whenas she was to bed apart and hid, and her curtains -close drawn, she would kneel there devoutly in her shift -and make prayer to God by the space of an hour and a -half, beating and tormenting her breast in her zeal of -devotion.</p> - -<p>This habit had never been noted at all till after the -death of King Charles her husband. But one night after -she had gone to bed and all her women were retired, -one of those which did sleep in her chamber, hearing her -sighing, did bethink her to peep between the curtains, and -saw her in the posture described, so praying and beseeching -God, which practice she did continue well nigh every -evening. At length the said bedchamber-woman, who was -on very familiar terms with her, did venture to remonstrate -one day with her on the ground she was hurting -her health. The Queen was angered against the woman -for her discovery and advice, and fain almost to deny the -thing, and did straitly charge her to breathe never a word -about it. Wherefore for that evening she did desist; but -in the night she did fully make up for it, supposing her -women would not observe it. But they saw her, and found -how it was, by the reflexion of her chamber-light of wax, -the which she did keep burning by her bedside next the -wall, for to read in her Book of Hours and pray God -at whiles, using for this pious purpose the same space -where other Queens and Princesses do keep their table of -refection. Suchlike prayers do little resemble those of -hypocrites, which wishing to appear religious before the -world, do make their orisons and devotions publicly, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span> -aye with mumbling of the lips, to the end folk may deem -them exceeding devout and sanctified.</p> - -<p>Thus would our good Queen pray for the soul of the -King, her husband, whom she did sorely grieve for, yet all -the whole making her moan and lamentation not like a wild -and desperate woman, screaming, and tearing her cheeks -and hair, nor yet merely counterfeiting one that is commended -for her tears, but sorrowing gently, dropping her -fair and precious tears so tenderly, sighing so soft and low, -as that ’twas plain to see she was restraining her grief all -she could, to the end people might not think her desirous -of making a fine seeming and grand impression (a thing I -have seen many ladies do in such case), yet failing not at -all to convince all of the deep anguish of her heart. Even -so a torrent is ever more violent whose course is stayed -than when it hath free space to run in. I do well remember -me how, all through the King’s malady, her dear lord -and husband, he lying in his bed and she coming to visit -him, she would quick sit her down by his side, not close to -his bed’s-head, as is usual, but a little withdrawn, yet -within his sight, where remaining without speaking scarce -at all to him, or he to her, she would keep her eyes all the -while so fixed upon him, that never taking them from off his -face she did verily seem to be warming him in her heart with -the heat of all the love she bare him. Presently she might -be seen dropping tears so soft and secret, that any which -had not chanced to note them, would have never known her -grief. There would she sit, drying her wet eyes under pretence -of using her handkerchief, that ’twas downright -pity to every soul there (I saw the thing myself) to see -her so troubled to hide her grief and love, and prevent the -King from seeing the signs of her sorrow. Such was ever<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span> -her practise in her husband’s sickness; whereafter she -would rise and hie her to her prayers for his restoration -to health. She did truly love and honour him exceedingly, -albeit she knew him of amorous complexion and that -he had mistresses, whether for his renown or for his -pleasure. But yet was she never a whit less kind, nor ever -said an ill word to him, patiently bearing her little load -of jealousy and the wrong he did her. She was a very -meet and proper mate for him; for ’twas indeed fire -and water come together in one, the King being naturally -quick, hot and stirring, she cool and temperate in all -things.</p> - -<p>I have been told on good authority, how that after her -widowhood, among certain of her more privy ladies, which -were for giving her such consolation as they could suggest, -was one (for, as you may suppose, among so great a band -there will alway be one more maladroit than the rest), -which, thinking to please highly, did address her thus: -“At least, Madam, an if instead of a daughter he had but -left you a son, you would at this moment be the King’s -Queen Mother, and your dignity by so much increased and -strengthened.”—But her answer was: “Alas! alas! say -not such a thing. As if France had not misfortunes -enough already, without my having caused yet another to -be her utter ruin. For had I had a son, this would only -have mean more factions, troubles and seditions for to get -the care and guardianship of the young King during his -infancy and minority. Hence would have sprung more -war and strife than ever, each striving to make his profit -and draw advantage by plundering the poor child, as they -were fain to do to the late King, my husband, and would -have done but for the Queen, his mother, and his good<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span> -servants which did oppose such doings. But an if I had -had a son, I should have but found unhappiness in the -thought of having borne him, and gotten a thousand -maledictions of the people, whose voice is the voice of -God. Wherefore I tell you I do praise my God, and am -right thankful for the fruit he hath vouchsafed me, be -it for better or for worse to me in the end.” Such was -the kindness of this good-hearted Princess toward the -country of her adoption.</p> - -<p>I have likewise heard tell how at the massacre of the -Saint Bartholomew, the Queen, knowing naught of it and -having never the least suspicion in the world of what was -plotting, did get her to bed in her usual fashion. On her -waking in the morning, she was first thing informed of the -fine mystery that was a-playing. “Woe is me!” she did -cry out instantly, “the King, my husband, doth he know -of it?”—“Of a surety, Madam,” came the answer; “’tis -he that doth order it.”—“Great God,” she cried in horror, -“what thing is this? and what counsellors be they which -have given him this advice? Oh, God! I do beseech and -pray thee to pardon this sin, for an if Thou be not pitiful, -this offence, I fear me sore, is beyond all pardon.” -Then she did quick ask for her Book of Hours, and so -to prayers and supplication to the Almighty, the tears -dropping from her eyes.</p> - -<p>Prithee consider the wisdom and goodness the said Queen -did manifest in not approving of such a merrymaking and -the cruel game that was played thereat, and this although -she had much cause to desire the utter extermination of the -Admiral (Coligny) and his fellow religionists, seeing they -were absolutely opposed in every way to her own faith, the -which she did adore and honour more than aught else in all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span> -the world, and on the other hand because she could plainly -see how they did trouble the Kingdom of her gracious lord -and husband. Moreover the Emperor her father had -actually said to her, as she was setting forth with him on -her way to France: “My daughter,” he said, “you are -going as Queen to a Kingdom the fairest, strongest and -most puissant in the world, and so far I do hold you a very -happy woman. Yet would you be happier still, an if you -could but find it at peace within its borders and as flourishing -as erstwhile it was used to be. But you will actually -find it sorely torn, dismembered, divided and weakened, -for albeit the King, your future husband, is on the right -side, yet the Princes and Lords of the Protestant faith do -much hurt and injury on the other.” And indeed she did -find it even as he said.</p> - -<p>Being now a widow, many of the most clear-sighted folk -I wot of at Court, both men and women, did deem the new -King, on his arrival back from Poland, would marry her, -in spite of the fact she was his sister-in-law. But then -he could well do so by virtue of the Pope’s dispensation, -who can do much in this respect, and especially where -great personages be concerned, in view of the public -advantage involved. And there were many reasons for -concluding the said marriage, the which I have left to -more authoritative writers than myself to deduce, without -my alleging them here. But amongst others one of the -chiefest was to recognise by the marriage the great -obligations the King lay under to the Emperor on the -occasion of his quitting Poland for to return to France. -For there can be no reasonable doubt, an if the Emperor -had chose to put the smallest obstacle in his path, he -would never have been able to get away and cross the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span> -frontier and make his way to France. The Poles were -anxious to keep him, only he did leave them without ever -a farewell; while the Germans were on the watch on every -side to capture him (as was done to the gallant King -Richard of England, on his return from the Holy Land, -as we read in our Chronicles), and would have certainly -held him prisoner and made him pay ransom, or maybe -worse. For they were exceeding sore with him, for the -sake of the Feast of Saint Bartholomew,—or at any rate -the Protestant Princes were. However, he did voluntarily -and without ceremony throw himself suddenly on the protection -of the Emperor, which did receive him very graciously -and lovingly, and with great honour and much -gracious familiarity, as if the twain had been brothers. -Then presently, after he had tarried with him some days, -he did in person convoy him a day or two’s journey on -his way, and give him a perfectly safe passage through his -dominions, so by his favour he did eventually win to Carinthia, -the Venetian territories, Venice itself, and presently -his own kingdom.</p> - -<p>Such was the obligation the King of France lay under -to the Emperor, one which many persons, as I have said, -did suppose the former would have paid back by binding -yet firmer his alliance with him. But at the time he went -into Poland, he had seen at Blamont in Lorraine, the fair -Louise de Lorraine, Mademoiselle de Vaudémont, one of -the most beautiful, virtuous and accomplished Princess -in all Christendom. On her he did cast such ardent eyes -as that being presently inflamed with deepest love, and -keeping his passion warm all the while he was away, he did -straightway on his return to Lyons despatch M. du -<span class="no-wrap">Gua,<a id="FNanchor_97" href="#Footnote_97" class="fnanchor">[97*]</a></span> -one of his chiefest favourites (as truly he did in every way<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span> -deserve to be), to Lorraine. Arrived there, he did settle -and conclude the match betwixt him and her very easily and -with no great disputing, as you may well imagine, such -good fortune being beyond the utmost hopes of him and -his daughter,—the one to be father-in-law of the King of -France, the other to be Queen of that Realm. Of this -Princess I do propose to speak elsewhere.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">2.</p> - -<p>To return once more to our little Queen. Wearied -of a longer tarrying in France for sundry -reasons, and in especial because she was not -properly respected and appreciated there as -she did deserve to be, she did resolve to go finish out the -remainder of her virtuous days with the Emperor, her -father, and the Empress, her mother. During her residence -at their Court, the Catholic King was widowed of -his Queen, Anne of Austria, own sister of the said French -Queen Elisabeth. The latter he would fain have married -and did send to beg the Empress, who was sister of the said -Catholic King, to open the first proposals to that effect. -But she would never hearken, once, twice or three times -that her mother spake to her of the matter, appealing to -the ashes of the late King, her husband, the which she -declared she would never insult by a second marriage, -and likewise alleging the over close consanguinity and -near relationship which was betwixt the two, whereby the -marriage might well anger God sorely. Whereupon the -Empress and the King her brother did bethink them to -have a Jesuit Father, a very learned and very eloquent -man, speak with her, who did exhort and sermonize her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span> -all ever he could, not forgetting to quote all the most telling -passages of Holy Scripture of every sort that might -advance his object. But the Queen did straight confound -him with other as good and more appropriate quotations, -for since her widowhood she had applied her earnestly -to the study of God’s Word, alleging moreover her -fixed determination, which was her chiefest bulwark, never -to forget her husband in a second marriage. The end was -the Jesuit came back with naught accomplished. However, -being strongly urged there by letters from the King of -Spain, he did return once again to the attack, not content -with the firm answer he had already had of the said -Princess. The latter, unwilling to waste more time in vain -contest with him, did treat him to some strong words and -actual menaces, cutting him short with the warning that -if he would persist in deafening her any more with the -matter, she would make him repent his interference, even -threatening she would have him whipped in her kitchen. -I have further heard tell,—I know not with how much -truth,—that, the man having attacked her for the third -time, she went beyond threats, and had him chastised -for his insolence. But this I do not believe, seeing she -did too well love folk of holy life, such as these men be.</p> - -<p>Such was the constancy and noble firmness of this virtuous -Queen,—a constancy she did keep unbroken to the -end of her days, ever honouring the sacred ashes of her -<span class="no-wrap">husband.<a id="FNanchor_98" href="#Footnote_98" class="fnanchor">[98*]</a></span> -Faithfully did she water these with her mournful -tears, whose fountain at the last drying up, she did -succumb to her sorrow and die very young. She could -not have been more than five and thirty at her decease,—truly -a quite inestimable loss, for she might long have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span> -been a mirror of virtue to all honourable ladies throughout -Christendom.</p> - -<p>And verily, showing as she did the love she bare the -King, her husband, by her constancy, virtuous continence -and unceasing plaints, she did manifest the same even more -finely toward the Queen of Navarre, her sister-in-law. -For knowing her to be in great extremity of distress, and -reduced to live in a remote Castle of -<span class="no-wrap">Auvergne,<a id="FNanchor_99" href="#Footnote_99" class="fnanchor">[99*]</a></span> -all but -deserted of all her friends and followers and by the most -part of those she had erstwhile obliged, she did send to -greet her and offer her every assistance. In fact she did -presently give her one-half of all her jointure which she -did enjoy in France, sharing with her as if she had been -her own proper sister. They say indeed this high-born -Queen would have had no little hardship to endure but -for this great liberality of her good and gentle kinswoman. -Accordingly she did pay her great respect, loving and -honouring her so well she had all the difficulty in the world -to bear her death with proper patience. Indeed, for -twenty days running she did keep her bed, weeping and -crying and making continual moan; and ever after did -naught but regret and deplore her loss, devoting to her -memory the noblest words, such that there could be -no need to borrow better to praise her withal and keep -her remembrance immortally green. I have been told -further that Queen Elisabeth too did compose and indite -a work of such beauty it cometh near God’s own word, -as also one containing the history of all that did hap in -France while she was in that country. I know not if -this be true, but I have been assured the book was seen -in the hands of the Queen of Navarre, as though it had -been sent her as a last present before the other’s death.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span> -’Twas most highly thought on of her, and pronounced -a most admirable production. At the word of so noble -and divine an oracle, what can we do but believe ’twas -verily so?</p> - -<p>Such then is the summary account I have been able to -give of our good Queen Elisabeth, of her kindness, virtue, -constancy and faithfulness, and her true and loyal love -toward the King, her husband. And ’twas but her nature -to be so good and virtuous (I have heard M. de -<span class="no-wrap">Lansac,<a id="FNanchor_100" href="#Footnote_100" class="fnanchor">[100*]</a></span> -who was in Spain when she died, tell how the Empress -said to him on that occasion, <i>El mejor de nosotros es -muerto</i>,—“The best of us all is dead”), and we may well -believe how in such actions this Queen was but for -imitating her own mother, her great aunts and aunts. -For the Empress, her mother, albeit she was left a widow -when still quite young and very handsome, would never -marry again, but did ever after continue in her widowhood, -right wisely and steadfastly, having quitted Austria -and Germany, the scene of her rule, after the death of the -Emperor, her husband. She went to join her brother in -Spain, having been summoned of him and besought to go -thither to help him in the heavy burden of his affairs. This -she did, for indeed she was a very prudent and well-counselled -Princess. I have heard the late King Henri III., -who was more skilled in reading character than any other -man in all his Kingdom, declare she was in his opinion -one of the most honourable, wise and accomplished Princesses -in the world.</p> - -<p>On this, her journey to Spain, after passing through -the divers States of Germany, she did presently arrive at -Genoa in Italy, where she embarked. But seeing ’twas in -winter, in the month of December, that she took ship, a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span> -storm did overtake her at Marseilles, at which port she -was forced to cast anchor in the roads. Yet would she -never come within the harbour, she or her galleys, for fear -of giving any ground for umbrage or suspicion; nor did -herself enter the town but only once, to see the sights. -Off this port she did tarry seven or eight days, a-waiting -for fair weather. Her most favourite course was every -morning to leave her galley (for she did usually sleep -a-board), and so during the day to go hear the service of -mass at the Church of St. Victor with very devout attention. -Then presently, her dinner having been brought and -made ready in the Abbey, she would there dine; after which -she would indulge in discourse with her ladies, or her folk -generally, or else with divers gentlemen of Marseilles, -which did show her all the honour and respect due to so -noble a Princess, the King of France indeed having bid -them specially to receive her as it were his own kingly person -in recompense for the good welcome and excellent -cheer she had given him at Vienna. This she did readily -enough perceive; and for that reason would converse very -intimately with them and show herself exceeding condescending, -treating them more after the German and -French fashion than the Spanish. In fact they were no -less delighted with her than she with them, and did write -a most courteous letter to the King, thanking him and -informing him they were as worthy and honourable folk -as ever she had seen in any place. Moreover she did -make separate mention by name of some score or so -of them, among whom was M. Castellan, known as the -Seigneur Altyvity, Captain of the King’s Galleys, a -man much renowned for having wedded the fair Chasteauneuf, -a Court lady, and for having killed the Grand Prior,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span> -himself falling along with him, as I do hope to relate in -another place. It was none other than his wife which did -relate to me what I here set down, and did tell me of all -the perfections of this noble Princess, and how pleasant -she did find her enforced stay at Marseilles, and how she -admired and enjoyed the place in her walks abroad. But -evening once come, she did never fail to return to sleep -on board her galley, to the end, the moment fine weather -and a favourable wind should come, she might straight -make sail, or mayhap because she was anxious to give no -cause of umbrage. I was at Court at the time these facts -were reported to the King concerning her passing visit, -who was most anxious to know if she had been well received, -and how she was, and did wish her well in all respects. -The said Princess is yet alive, and doth continue in her -good and virtuous behaviour, having done her brother -excellent service, by all I am told. She did later retire for -her final abode and dwelling-place to a Convent of religious -women, called the <i>descalçadas</i> (unshod), because they do -wear neither shoes nor stockings. This house was founded -by her sister, the Princess of Spain.</p> - -<p>This same Princess of Spain was a very beautiful lady -in her day, and of a most courtly -<span class="no-wrap">dignity.<a id="FNanchor_101" href="#Footnote_101" class="fnanchor">[101*]</a></span> -Else truly she -would not have been a Spanish Princess; for of a surety, -fine bearing and becoming grace do ever go along with -Royalty, and above all with Spanish Royalty. Myself -have had the honour of seeing her and speaking with her -on terms of some intimacy, whenas I was in Spain after -my return from Portugal. The first time I went to pay -my duty to our Queen Elisabeth of France, and was discoursing -with her, answering her many questions as to -the news from France and Portugal, they came to inform<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span> -the Queen that the Princess of Spain was coming in. -Instantly she said to me: “Nay! do not retire, Monsieur -de Bourdeille; you will see a very fair and noble Princess, -and will find pleasure in so doing. She will be very -glad to see you and to ask you news of the King, her -son, as you have just lately seen him.” Hereupon cometh -the Princess herself, whom I thought exceeding handsome, -and in my opinion very becomingly attired, on her head -a Spanish cap of white crêpe, coming low down in a -point over the face, but not otherwise in widow’s weeds, -according to the Spanish fashion, for indeed her almost -constant wear was silk. At first I did gaze long at her -and admire her beauty, till just as I was growing quite -enthralled, the Queen did call me up, and told me the -Princess was fain to hear news of me concerning the King -her son; for I had already overheard the Queen informing -her how she had but now been conversing with a gentleman -of the King’s, late come from Portugal. At this, I came -forward, and did kiss her gown in the Spanish mode, -whereupon she did greet me very graciously and familiarly, -and began asking me news of the King, her son, his behaviour, -and what I thought of him. For at the time -a proposed match was being talked of betwixt him and -the noble Princess Marguerite of France, the King’s sister -and now Queen of Navarre. I did give her abundance of -information; for in those days I did speak Spanish as well -as my native French, or even better. Among other questions, -she did ask me, “Was her son handsome, and who -was he most like?” I told her he was one of the handsomest -Princes in Christendom, as truly he was, and that -he was like her in every way, and the living image of her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span> -beauty, whereat she gave a little smile and blush, plainly -showing her pleasure at what I had said.</p> - -<p>After we had conversed a long while together, the -Queen’s attendants came to summon her to supper, and so -the two sisters separated. Then did the Queen say to me -(she had been amusing herself at the window, yet had -heard most of what we said), with a laugh: “You did -please her mightily by what you said as to the likeness -betwixt her son and her.” Presently she asked what I -thought of her, and if I did not think her a noble lady, -and such as she had described her, and anon remarked: -“I imagine she would be right glad to wed the King, my -brother, and I should dearly love it.” All this I did duly -report later to the Queen Mother, when I was returned -back to the French Court, which was at the time at Arles -in Provence. But she did declare the Princess was too old -for him, old enough to be his mother. I informed her -moreover of what I had been told in Spain, and did consider -of good authority, to wit that she was firm resolved -never to marry again, an it were not to wed the King -of France, or failing this to withdraw from the world -altogether.</p> - -<p>And truly she did grow so enamoured of this high match -and fair prospect, for she was of high heart and ambition, -and she did firmly believe she was approaching its accomplishment, -or failing this, was resolved to end her days in -the convent I have spoken of, where already she was having -buildings constructed against her possible retirement from -the world. Accordingly she did long cling to this hope and -belief, ever wisely maintaining her widowhood, till she did -learn of the King’s marriage with her niece. Then, all her -hopes frustrated, she did pronounce these words expressive<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span> -of despite or something like it, as I have been told: <i>Aunque -la nieta sea por su verano mas moza, y menos cargada de -años que la tia, la hermosura de la tia, ya en su estio -toda hecha y formada por sus gentiles y fructiferos años, -vale mas que todos los frutos que su edad florescida da -esperanza à venir; porque la menor desdicha humana los -harà caer y perder ni mas ni menos que alguinos arboles, -los quales, en el verano, por sus lindas y blancos flores -nos prometen linda fruta en el estio, y el menor viento -que acade los lleva y abate, no quedando que las hojas. -Ea! dunque pasase todo con la voluntad de Dios, con el -qual desde agora me voy, no con otro, para siempre -jamas, me casar</i>,—“True the niece is younger and in her -first prime, and less advanced in years than the aunt, yet -is the beauty of the latter, already in its summer glory, -fully grown and formed by the gracious years, and bearing -fruit, better worth than all the fruits that the other’s age, -now but beginning to bloom, doth give expectation of. -For the smallest human accident will destroy the same, -withering and ruining them, just like trees in the springtime, -which by their fair white blossoms do promise us -fair and excellent fruits in summer. But let only a little -blast of wind arise, and lo! they be broken off and beaten -down and spoiled, and naught left but only leaves. Well! -God’s will be done, with whom I am about to wed for all -eternity, and with no human bridegroom at all.” So said, -so done; and thereafter she did lead a life so good and -holy, altogether removed from the wicked world, as that -she hath left behind to all ladies, great and small, a noble -example for their imitation.</p> - -<p>Some folks might possibly say, “Well! God be thanked -she could not marry King Charles; for be sure, and if this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span> -could have been brought about, she would have sent far -enough the hard life of a widow, and been right glad to -take up again the soft and pleasant one of a wife.” This -may well be allowed; but this likewise it must be granted -on the other hand, that the great wish she did display to -wed this puissant Monarch was but a manifestation of her -proud and ambitious Spanish heart, for to show her high -spirit, and prove she would in no wise take a lowly place; -but seeing her sister an Empress, not able to be one too, -yet fain to rival her, she did therefore aspire to be Queen -of the realm of France, which is as good as any Empire, or -better, and, if not in actual fact, yet in will and desire to -be on an equal footing with her. Such motives do well -accord with her character, as I have heard it described. -To make an end, she was in mine opinion one of the most -noble and high-bred foreign Princesses I have ever seen, -albeit she may perhaps be reproached with her retirement -from the world, due rather to despite than to genuine -devotion. Yet she did thus piously withdraw her; and -her good life and holy have sufficiently made manifest the -true sanctity of her character.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">3.</p> - -<p>Her aunt, Queen Mary of Hungary, did the like, -but at a very advanced age, and this no less -from her own desire to retire from the world -than in order to help her brother the Emperor -to serve God well and piously. This same Queen was -widowed at a very early age, having lost King Louis, her -husband, which fell very young in a battle he fought with -the Turks,—a battle he should never of rights have lost,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span> -but for the obstinacy of a Cardinal, which had much influence -over him and did over-persuade him against his -better judgement, declaring ’twas not meet to distrust -God’s power and a righteous cause. Though he should -have but ten thousand Hungarians, more or less, on his -side, yet these being all good Christians and fighting in -God’s quarrel, he should easily rout ten thousand Turks. -In fine he did so incite and push him to recklessness, as -that he did lose the battle; and presently attempting to -retreat was entangled in a marsh and there choked.</p> - -<p>The same fate befell the last King of Portugal, Don -<span class="no-wrap">Sebastian,<a id="FNanchor_102" href="#Footnote_102" class="fnanchor">[102*]</a></span> -which did perish miserably, having risked battle -with too weak a force against the Moors, that were three -times as strong as himself. This was done through the -advice, preaching and obstinacy of sundry Jesuits, which -were forever alleging the power of Almighty God, who -with a look could strike a whole host dead, above all when -this was banded together against him. An excellent and -a true doctrine doubtless; yet must we not be over confident -and abuse God’s promises, for His secret purpose -will alway be past our finding out. Some say the Jesuit -Fathers gave the counsel they did in all good faith, as is -quite credible; others that they were traitors and had been -gained over by the King of Spain, to the end they might -so bring about the undoing of the young and gallant King -of Portugal, courageous and fiery as he was, and himself -be the better able to lay his hands on that he did after -seize. Be this as it may, ’tis certain both these disasters -befell through these folk, which be fain to manage armies, -yet have never learned the trade of war.</p> - -<p>And this is why the great Duc de Guise, after he had -been sore deceived in his Italian expedition, was often used<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span> -to say, “I do love God’s Church, yet will I never undertake -a conquest on the word and faith of any Priest.” By -this he was for chiding the Pope, Caraffa, known as Paul -IV., which had not kept his promises made to him in the -most impressive and solemn words, or mayhap the Cardinal, -his brother, who had gone all the way to Rome to -discuss the matter and see how the land lay, after which -he did recklessly urge his brother to the enterprise. It -may well be the aforesaid Duc de Guise had in his mind -both Pope and Cardinal; for undoubtedly, as I have been -informed, whenever the Duke did repeat this saying, as oft -he did, before his brother, the latter deeming it a stone -pitched into his garden, would be secretly much enraged -and furiously angry. This is a digression, but my subject -seemed to warrant it.</p> - -<p>To return now to our good Queen Mary of Hungary. -After this disaster to her husband, she was left a very -young and beautiful widow, as I have heard many persons -say which have seen her, as also according to the portraits -of her I have seen, which do all represent her as very fair, -giving her never an ugly or censurable feature, except -only her heavy, projecting mouth, or “Austrian -<span class="no-wrap">lip.”<a id="FNanchor_103" href="#Footnote_103" class="fnanchor">[103*]</a></span> -However this doth not really come from the House of -Austria, but from that of Burgundy, as I have heard a -lady of the Court at that time relate. She said how once -when Queen Eleanor was passing by way of Dijon on -her way to pay her devotions at the Monastery of the -Chartreuse in that region, and to visit the reverend -sepulchres of her ancestors, the Dukes of Burgundy, she -was curious to have these opened, as many monarchs have -done with theirs. Some of the bodies she did find so -whole and well preserved she did recognise many of their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span> -features, and amongst others the mouth. Whereupon -she did suddenly cry: “Ah! I thought we did take our -mouths from them of Austria; but by what I see here, -we seem rather to get them from Mary of Burgundy, -our ancestress, and the Dukes of Burgundy, our ancestors. -If ever I see the Emperor, my brother, I will tell him; -nay! I will write him at once.” The lady which was then -present told me she did herself hear these words, declaring -further the Queen did pronounce them as if pleased at her -discovery. And in this she was very right, for truly -the House of Burgundy was every whit as good as that -of Austria, springing as it did from a son of France, -Philip le Hardi, from whom they had inherited much -wealth and courage and high spirit. Indeed I imagine -there were never four greater Dukes, one after the other, -than were these four Dukes of Burgundy. Truly I may be -charged with everlastingly wandering from my subject; -but ’tis an easy matter to excuse me, I think, seeing I have -never been taught the art of careful and correct writing.</p> - -<p>Our Queen Mary of Hungary then was a most fair and -agreeable Princess, and a very amiable, albeit she did -show herself somewhat over masculine. But for that she -was none the worse for love, nor yet for war, which she did -take for her chiefest exercise. The Emperor, her brother, -seeing her meet for this work and very apt therein, did -send to summon her and beg her to come to him, for to -give her the charge of her aunt Marguerite of Flanders -had held, which was a very wise Princess and one that did -govern his Province of the Low Countries with as much -gentleness as the other had used severity. Wherefore so -long as she lived, King Francis did never direct his arms -toward that quarter, saying he would fain avoid giving<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span> -displeasure to so noble a Princess, which did show her -so well disposed to France, and so wise and virtuous to -boot. Unhappy too beyond her deserts in her marriages, -whereof the first was with King Charles VIII., by whom -she was while still quite a girl sent back to her father’s -house; the second with the King of Aragon’s son, John -by name, of whom she had a posthumous son that died -soon after its birth. The third was with the handsome -Duke Philibert of Savoy, of whom she had no offspring, -and for that cause did bear the device, <i>Fortune infortune, -fors une</i>. She doth lie with her husband in the beautiful -and most splendid Cloister of Brou, near the town of -Bourg en Bresse, a Church I have myself visited.</p> - -<p>This same Queen of Hungary then did greatly help the -Emperor, seeing how isolated he was. ’Twas true he had -Ferdinand, King of the Romans, his brother; yet was -it all he could do to make head against that great conqueror, -the Sultan Soliman. The Emperor had moreover -on his hands the affairs of Italy, which was at that time -all a-fire; while Germany was little better by reason of -the Grand Turk, and he was harassed to boot with Hungary, -Spain at the time of its rebellion under M. de Chièvres, -the Indies, the Low Countries, Barbary, and France, -which last was the most sore burden of all, in a word with -the business of nigh half the world, in a manner of -<span class="no-wrap">speaking.<a id="FNanchor_104" href="#Footnote_104" class="fnanchor">[104*]</a></span> -He did make his sister Governess General of all the -Netherlands, where by the space of two or three and -twenty years she did him such excellent service I really -cannot tell what he would have done without her. So -he did entrust her with entire charge of the government -of those districts, and even when himself was in Flanders, -did leave all the management of his provinces in that quarter<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span> -in her hands. The council was held under her direction -and in her apartments even when the Emperor was present -and did attend, as I have been told he often did. ’Tis -true she was very able and did manage it all for him, -reporting to him all that had taken place at the meeting -when he was not there, in all which he did find the utmost -pleasure. She did carry out some very successful wars -too, whether by her generals or in person, always riding -a-horse, like a noble-hearted Amazon-queen.</p> - -<p>She it was which did first begin those burnings of -strongholds in our land of France, destroying thus some -of the finest houses and castles, and in especial that of -<span class="no-wrap">Folembray,<a id="FNanchor_105" href="#Footnote_105" class="fnanchor">[105*]</a></span> -a beautiful and agreeable residence our Kings -had built them for the delight and pleasure of the chase. -At this the King did feel so sore despite and displeasure -as that no long while after she did get of him as good as -she gave, for he took his revenge on her noble house of -Bains, the which was held for one of the marvels of the -world, shaming so to speak all other beautiful buildings -of the earth, and I have heard those say that had seen -it in its perfection, comparable even to the seven wonders -of the world, so renowned in Antiquity. ’Twas there she -did entertain the Emperor Charles and all his Court, -the time when his son, King Philip, came from Spain to -Flanders for to visit his father, such excellence and perfection -of magnificence being then displayed that naught -else was spoke of at the time save only <i>las fiestas de Bains</i>, -as the Spaniards said. Moreover I do remember on the -journey to Bayonne, when some very splendid shows were -given, tilting at the ring, combats, masquerades and games, -’twas all naught to be compared with these famous <i>fiestas -de Bains</i>,—as sundry old Spanish noblemen which had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span> -witnessed them did declare, and as I have seen myself in -a Work writ in Spanish on purpose to celebrate them. -And it may be certainly said there hath never aught been -done or seen finer, equalling even the splendours of Roman -days, and copying their old-time sports, always excepting -the fights of Gladiators and wild beasts. But with this -only exception, the feasts of Bains were finer, more agreeable, -as well as more varied and general.</p> - -<p>These fêtes I would most dearly love to describe here, -according to the particulars I have gleaned from this -Spanish work, as well as learned from sundry eye-witnesses, -and in especial from Madame de Fontaine, surnamed -<span class="no-wrap">Torcy,<a id="FNanchor_106" href="#Footnote_106" class="fnanchor">[106*]</a></span> -acting as sister for the time being to Queen -Eleanor; but I should be blamed as too continually digressing -from my subject. So I must e’en keep it for a -tid-bit some other time, the matter really meriting full -description. Amongst the most splendid of the shows, -I will name but this. She had a great fortress of brick, -which was assaulted, defended, and relieved by a body -of six thousand foot-men of veteran regiments, bombarded -by thirty pieces of ordnance, whether in the trenches or -on the walls, with all identical methods and ceremonies -as in actual war. The siege did last three days and an -half, and so fine a sight was never seen; for assaults were -delivered, relief brought up, the besieged beaten back, -both cavalry and infantry participating in the manœuvres, -under charge of the Prince of Piedmont, the place being -eventually surrendered on terms, in part favourable, in -part rather hard, the garrison being granted their lives -and withdrawing under escort. In a word no detail of -real war was forgot,—all to the singular gratification -of the Emperor.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span></p> - -<p>Rest assured, if the Queen was lavish on that occasion, -’twas but to show her brother that what he had had of -him, estates, pensions, benefits, share of his conquests, all -was vowed to the further heightening of his glory and -pleasure. Wherefore the said Emperor was greatly pleased -and did highly commend and approve the great expenditure, -and especially that lavished on his own chamber. -This was hung with tapestry of a raised warp, all of gold, -silver and silk, where were figured and represented in their -true colours all the famous conquests, high emprises, warlike -expeditions and battles, he had ever made and won, -above all not forgetting the defeat of Soliman before -Vienna, and the taking prisoner of King Francis I. In -fact there was naught therein that was not of the best and -most highly wrought.</p> - -<p>But truly the unfortunate mansion did lose all its splendour -later, forasmuch as it was utterly devastated, pillaged, -ruined and overthrown. I have heard say how its -mistress, on learning this ruin, did fall in such distress, -despite and fury, that ’twas many days ere she could be -appeased. Subsequently, when one day passing near the -spot, she was fain to see the remains, and gazing very -sadly at these, did swear, the tears in her eyes, that all -France should repent the deed and be right sorry for -these conflagrations, and that she would never be content -till yonder proud Castle of Fontainebleau, whereof folk -did make so much, was levelled with the earth and not -one stone left on another. And in very deed she did spew -out her anger right fiercely over the unhappy land of -Picardy, which felt the sore effects of her wrath and the -fires she kindled there; and I ween, if truce had not interfered, -her vengeance would have been startling. For<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span> -she was of a proud and hard heart, and slow to be -appeased, and was generally held, of her own people as -well as ours, somewhat over cruel; but such is ever the bent -of women, especially of high-born women, which be very -ready to take vengeance for any offence done them. The -Emperor, by all they say, did only love her the more -for this.</p> - -<p>I have heard tell how, when the Emperor did abdicate -at Brussels and strip him of his power, the ceremony being -held in a great Hall wherein he had called together an -assembly of his Estates, after he had made a set speech -and said all he wished to his son, and had likewise humbly -thanked his sister, Queen Mary, which was seated by the -side of the Emperor her brother, the latter presently -rising from her seat, and with a deep reverence to her -brother, did address the people with a grave and dignified -port and much confidence and grace, and said as follows: -“Gentlemen, for these three and twenty years past that -my brother, the Emperor, hath been pleased to grant -me the charge and government of these Low Countries, -I have ever employed in the said task all the means and -abilities that God, Nature and Fortune have bestowed on -me, for to perform the same to the utmost of my powers. -But an if in aught I have made failure, I am surely to -be excused, for I think I have never forgot my duty nor -spared the proper pains. Yet, and if I <i>have</i> lacked in -anything, I do beg you to forgive me. However, if there -be any one of you will not so do, but is ill content with -me and my government, why! ’tis the smallest of my cares, -seeing the Emperor, my brother, is well content, and to -please him, and him alone, hath ever been the chiefest -of my desires and cares.” With these words and another<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span> -deep reverence to the Emperor, she did resume her seat. -I have heard some say this speech was found of many -somewhat over proud and haughty, more especially on -occasion her giving up her charge and bidding farewell -to a people she was about to leave. ’Twould surely have -been more natural, had she desired to leave a good savour -in their mouth and some grief behind her on her departure. -But for all this she had never a thought, seeing her sole -end was to please and content her brother, and from -henceforth to take no heed of the world but keep her -brother company in his retirement and life of prayer.</p> - -<p>This account I had of a gentleman of my brother’s -suite, which was at the time at Brussels, whither he had -gone to treat of the ransom of my brother aforesaid, he -having been taken prisoner in Hedin, and having spent five -years in confinement at Lille in Flanders. The said -gentleman was present throughout this assembly and -mournful abdication of the Emperor; and did tell me how -not a few persons were something scandalized in secret -at this haughty pronouncement of the Queen’s, yet did -never dare say a word or let their opinion appear, seeing -plainly they had to do with a masterful dame, which, if -angered, would surely before her final departure have -done something startling for a last stroke.</p> - -<p>Presently freed of all her charge and responsibility, she -doth accompany her brother to Spain; which land she -did never after quit, either she or her sister Queen Eleanor, -till the day of death. Of the three, each did survive the -other by one year; the Emperor died first, the Queen of -France next, being the eldest, then the Queen of Hungary -after the two others, her brother and sister. Both sisters -did behave them wisely and well in widowhood; the Queen<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span> -of Hungary was a longer time widow than her sister, and -did never marry again, while her sister did so twice, partly -to be Queen of France, a dainty morsel, partly by the -prayers and persuasion of the Emperor, to the end she -might be a sure pledge of peace and public quietness. Not -that the said pledge did avail for long while, for War -brake out again presently, as cruel as ever. However -this was no fault of the poor Princess, who did all she -could. Yet for all that did King Francis, her husband, -treat her but scurvily, hating and abominating the connection, -as I have been told.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">4.</p> - -<p>After the departure of the Queen of Hungary -there was left no great Princess with King -Philip (now Sovereign Lord invested with his -domains in the Netherlands and elsewhere), -but only the Duchesse de Lorraine, Christina of -<span class="no-wrap">Denmark,<a id="FNanchor_107" href="#Footnote_107" class="fnanchor">[107*]</a></span> -his cousin german, later entitled Her Highness, -which did always hold him good company, so long as he -tarried in these parts. She did add much to the brilliance -of his Court, for truly no Court, whether of King, Prince, -Emperor or Monarch, no matter how magnificent it be, -is of much account, if it be not accompanied and seconded -by a Queen’s or Empress’s Court, or at least a great -Princess’s, and thereat a good abundance of noble dames -and damsels, as both myself have observed and have heard -pronouncement to the same effect in the highest quarters.</p> - -<p>This said Princess was in mine opinion one of the most -beauteous and most well accomplished Princesses I have -ever seen,—in face very fair and pleasing, her figure very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span> -tall and fine, her conversation agreeable, and above all her -dress most excellent. In fact all her life she was the pattern -and model of fashion to all the ladies of France. -This mode of dressing head and hair and arranging the -veil was known as the Lorraine way, and ’twas a pretty -sight to see our Court ladies so attired. These were ever -a-making grand fêtes and splendid shows, the better -thereat to show off their dainty adornments, all being <i>à la -Lorraine</i> and copied after Her Highness. In especial she -had one of the prettiest hands ever seen; and I have heard -the Queen Mother herself praise the same, and liken it to -her own for perfection. She had an excellent seat on -horseback, and rode with no little grace, always using the -stirrup attached to the saddle, the mode whereof she had -learned of the Queen Marie, her aunt, and the Queen -Mother, so I have heard say of her; for previously she -had ridden with help of the old-fashioned -<span class="no-wrap">“planchette,”<a id="FNanchor_108" href="#Footnote_108" class="fnanchor">[108]</a></span> -which was far from properly showing off her grace and -her elegant seat like the stirrup. In all this she was for -imitating the Queen her aunt, never mounting any but -Spanish horses, Turks, Barbs and the very best jennets, -which could go well at the amble. Of such I have seen a -dozen capital mounts at one time in her stable, all so excellent, -’twere impossible to say one was better than another. -The said aunt did love her dearly, as well for the -exercises they both were fond of, hunting, riding and the -like, as for her virtues, the which she did observe in her. -Accordingly, after her marriage, she did often go to visit -her in Flanders, as I have heard Madame de Fontaines -relate; and indeed after she became a widow, and especially -after her son had been taken from her, she did quit -Lorraine altogether in despite, so proud and high of heart<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span> -was she. She did thereafter take up her abode with the -Emperor her uncle and the Queens her aunts, all which -great personages did receive her with no small pleasure.</p> - -<p>She did bear exceeding hardly the loss and absence of -her son, and this in spite of all possible excuses which -King Henri did make her, and his declared intention of -adopting him as his son. But presently, finding no assuagement, -and seeing how they were giving him one M. -de La Brousse as tutor, instead of the one he now had, -namely M. de Montbardon, a very wise and honourable -gentleman the Emperor himself had assigned to that office, -having long known him for a worthy man, for he -had been in the service of M. de Bourbon, and was a -French refugee, the Princess, thinking all desperate, did -seek out King Henri one Holy Thursday in the great Gallery -at Nancy, where all his Court was assembled. Thus, -with an assured grace and that great beauty which did -make her yet more admirable, she did advance, with no -undue awe or any sort of abasement at his grandeur, albeit -bowing low in reverence before him; and in suppliant -wise, with tears in her eyes, the which did but make her -more fair and more delightsome to look upon, did remonstrate -with the King as to the wrong he was doing her in -taking away her son,—the dearest possession she had in -all the world. Little did she deserve, she added, so harsh -treatment, seeing the high station she was born in and -the fact she had never dreamed of doing aught to his -disservice. All this she said so well and with so excellent -a grace, with reasoning so cogent and complaint so pitiful, -as that the King, always very courteous toward ladies, -was deeply stirred with compassion,—and not he alone,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span> -but all the Lords and Princes, great and small, which were -present at the sight.</p> - -<p>The King, who was the most respectful monarch toward -ladies hath ever been in France, did answer her in -very honourable terms, albeit with no rigmarole of words -nor by way of set harangue, as Paradin doth represent -the matter in his <i>History of France</i>; for indeed of his -nature this monarch was not so prolix, nor copious in -reasons and fine speeches, nor a mighty orator. Neither -had he any need to be, nor is it becoming that a King -should play the philosopher and rhetorician, the shortest -replies and briefest questions being more meet for him and -more becoming. This I have heard argued by not a few -great men, amongst others by M. de -<span class="no-wrap">Pibrac,<a id="FNanchor_109" href="#Footnote_109" class="fnanchor">[109*]</a></span> -whose judgment -was much to be relied on by reason of the competence -of knowledge he did possess. Moreover any one -that shall read the speech as given by Paradin, as supposed -by him to have been delivered in this place by King -Henri, will credit never a word of it; besides which, I -have heard positively from a number of great folk which -were there present that he did not make any such lengthy -harangue as the historian saith.</p> - -<p>’Tis quite true at the same time that he did condole -with her in very honourable and proper phrase on her -alleged grievance, saying she had no real reason to be -troubled thereat, for that ’twas to assure the lad’s estate, -and not out of any selfish hostility toward him, he was -fain to have her son by his side, and to keep him along -with his own son and heir, to share his bringing up and -fashion of life and fortune. Further that himself being -French, and the boy of French extraction, he could scarce -be better off than to be reared at the French Court and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span> -among French folk, where he had so many kinsmen and -friends. In especial he forgat not to add how the house -of Lorraine did lie under greater obligation to that of -France than to any other in all Christendom, alleging the -countenance given by France to the Duke of Lorraine as -against Duke Charles of Burgundy, that was slain before -Nancy. For that ’twas an undoubted truth to say that -but for that Country’s help, the said Duke would have -utterly undone the Duke of Lorraine and his Duchy to -boot, and made him the most unhappy Prince in the world. -He did further allege the gratitude they of the House of -Lorraine did owe to the French, for the great assistance -rendered them by the latter in their successes in the Holy -Wars and conquests of Jerusalem, and the Kingdom of -Naples and Sicily. Further he did declare how neither his -natural bent nor true interests were like to set him on -ruining and undoing Princes, but rather to help the same -in all ways, when in danger and difficulty,—as he had -actually done to the little Queen of Scots, a near kinswoman -of his son, to the Duke of Parma, as well as to -Germany, that was so sore pressed it was nigh coming to -utter ruin without such help. The same kindness and -generosity, he said, was his motive for taking the young -Prince of Lorraine under his protection, for to bring him -up to an higher estate than else he could aspire to, and -make him his son by marrying him eventually to one of -his own daughters; in fine that she had no sort of call to -be afflicted at his action.</p> - -<p>Yet could not all these fine words and excellent reasons -in any wise calm her grief, neither enable her to bear her -loss one whit more patiently. So presently with another -deep reverence, and still shedding many pathetic tears,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span> -she did withdraw her to her own chamber, the King himself -conducting her to the door thereof. Next day, before -quitting the place, he did visit her in her chamber to bid -her farewell, but without her winning any concession as to -her petition. Accordingly having thus seen her beloved -son torn from her and carried away to France, she did -resolve for her part to leave Lorraine altogether and -retire to Flanders to the side of her uncle the Emperor -(oh! the fine sound of that word) and to the company -of her cousin King Philip and the Queens her aunts—a -noble alliance and a great! This she did; and did never -leave Flanders more, till after conclusion of the peace -betwixt the two Kings, when he of Spain took ship and -sailed away for that country.</p> - -<p>To the making of the said peace she did no little avail, -my! rather was the chiefest contributor thereto. For -the delegates of the one side and the other, by what I -have heard said, after having laboured and sweated all -in vain at Cercan for several days, without arranging or -settling aught, were still at fault and off the scent, as we -say in hunting, when she, whether inspired by wisdom -from on high or urged thereto by Christian zeal and her -own kind heart, did take up the chase, and carry this important -negotiation to a good end and one so fortunate -to all Christian peoples. And of a truth ’twas said no -other could have been found so meet to move and set in -place this great corner stone, seeing she was a lady of -skill and experience if ever there was one, as well as of -high and weighty authority,—and there can be never a -doubt but petty, low-born folk are not so apt for the -like business as great personages be. For this and many -other reasons the King her cousin did feel much trust and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span> -confidence in her, well knowing her good qualities. He -did ever love her well, bearing her much affection and esteem; -and indeed she did help him much and contribute -greatly to the splendour and renown of his Court, the -which without her would have sorely lacked brilliancy. -Yet afterward, I have been told, he did show her but poor -gratitude and treated her scurvily with regard to her -lands which did fall to her for jointure in the Duchy of -Milan, where she had been married in first wedlock with -the Duke Sforza; for by what I have been informed, he -did rob her and bring her short of some portion of these.</p> - -<p>I have heard it said that after the loss of her son, she -did remain very ill content with the Duc de Guise and the -great Cardinal her brother, holding them to blame for -having advised the King to that course, by reason of their -ambition, both because they were fain to see their near -cousin adopted as son and married within the House of -France, and because she had some while before refused -M. de Guise in marriage, which had sent to her to make -such offer. She being one of the proudest of womankind, -made answer she would never wed the younger son of the -house whereof she had been wife of the eldest. For this -rebuff the Duke did ever after bear her a grudge, and -this although he did lose naught in his subsequent marriage, -his wife being of a most illustrious house and granddaughter -of a King, Louis XII., one of the best and -bravest monarchs have ever sat on the French throne,—and -what is more, being one of the most beautiful women -in Christendom.</p> - -<p>Hereanent I have heard tell how the first time these two -beauteous Princesses met, both were so curious to mark -one the other, whether directing their gaze straight in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span> -the face, or askance or sideways, as that neither could -look long enough, so set were they and eager to examine -each other’s charms. I leave you to fancy all the divers -thoughts must have traversed these fair ladies’ minds. -Just so we do read how a little before the great battle -was fought in Africa betwixt Scipio and Hannibal, which -did put a final end to the War of Rome and Carthage, -how previous to its beginning, they did come together in a -short truce of some two hours’ duration. Whenas they -were approached near each other, there the twain of -them stood some little while wrapped in contemplation -one of the other, each thinking of the valour of the other, -so renowned by their exploits and so well represented in -their gallant visages, their persons, and their fine, warlike -ways and bearing. Then after so tarrying entranced in -these noble dreams the one of the other, they did presently -set them to negotiation after the fashion Livy hath -so well described. Thus valour doth make itself esteemed -in the midst of enmity and hate, as doth beauty in the -midst of mutual jealousy,—as proven in the case of the -two fair Princesses I have spoke of.</p> - -<p>Truly the beauty and charming grace of these twain -might well be pronounced equal, only that Madame de -Guise mayhap did in some ways bear the bell. But she was -well content to surpass her rival in these qualities only, -never a whit in pride and high bearing; for indeed she -was the most gentle, good, condescending and affable -Princess ever known, albeit she could show herself at need -high-spirited and gallant. Nature had framed her so, -no less by reason of her tall and noble figure than of her -dignified port and stately carriage, so that to look at -her a man might well fear and think twice about addressing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span> -her in speech, yet having plucked up courage so to -accost her, naught would he find in her but all sweetness, -candour and good-nature,—these pleasant qualities being -inherited from her grandfather, the good father of his -people, and the kindly French habit. ’Tis true enough -however she knew very well how to keep her dignity and -show her pride, when need was. I do hope to further -speak of her specially in another place.</p> - -<p>Her Highness of Lorraine on the contrary was exceeding -proud and somewhat overweening. This myself did -note on sundry occasions in her bearing toward the Queen -of Scots, who after she was a widow, did make a journey -to Lorraine, where I then was. Not seldom you would -have thought the aforesaid proud Princess was eager to -take advantage and encroach somewhat upon the unhappy -Queen’s majesty. Yet the latter, who was a woman of -the world and of a high spirit, did never give her occasion -to glory over her or in any wise encroach on her dignity, -albeit her bearing was always gentleness itself. Indeed the -Cardinal her brother had duly warned her and given her -an inkling of the haughty humour of the said Princess.</p> - -<p>Never could this latter entirely rid her of her pride, -yet was she fain to modify the same somewhat toward the -Queen Mother (Catherine de Medici), when they met. -Verily ’twas pride against pride; for the Queen Mother -was the very proudest woman in all the world, when need -was, as I have myself seen, and heard the same character -given her of many great personages,—and above all if -it were necessary to lower the pride of some presumptuous -person, for she would ever contrive to abase such to the -very bowels of the earth. Yet did she always bear herself -courteously toward her Highness, treating her with sufficient<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span> -deference and respect, yet ever keeping a tight -rein, hand high or hand low as occasion did demand, for -fear she should mayhap forget herself and presume on -some liberty; and myself did hear her twice or thrice declare, -“Yonder is the proudest woman I ever saw!” This -was at the time she came to the coronation of our late -King Charles IX. at Reims, whither she was invited. On -her entry into that city, she would not ride a-horseback, -fearing thereby to derogate something of her dignity and -rank, but did arrive in a coach magnificently furnished, -all covered with black velvet, by reason of her widowhood, -and drawn by four white barbs, the finest could anywhere -be chosen, harnessed four abreast, as it had been a triumphal -chariot. Herself was at the carriage door, -splendidly attired, though all in black, in a velvet robe, -but her head dress all of white, magnificently arranged -and set off. At the other door was one of her daughters, -which was after Duchess of -<span class="no-wrap">Bavaria;<a id="FNanchor_110" href="#Footnote_110" class="fnanchor">[110*]</a></span> -and within, her -maid of honour, the Princess of Macedonia. The Queen -Mother, desiring to see her enter the outer court in this -triumphant guise, did set her at a window, exclaiming in -an undertone, “Oh! the haughty dame it is!” Presently -when she had stepped down from her carriage and -mounted to the great hall above, the Queen did go forward -to meet her only so far as the midmost of the hall, -or mayhap a little farther and somewhat nearer the entrance -door than the upper end. Yet did she receive her -very graciously, and showed her great honour; for at the -time she was ruler in all things, in view of the youth of -the King her son, and did govern him and make him -entirely conform to her good pleasure. All the Court, -great and small alike, did esteem and much admire the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[244]</span> -said Princess, and much appreciate her beauty, albeit she -was coming nigh the decline of her years, which might -then be something over forty; yet was no sign of change -or decay in her, her Autumn altogether surpassing other -women’s Summer. None can do other than think highly -of this fair Princess, seeing how beautiful she was, and -yet did safeguard her widowhood to the tomb, and so inviolably -and chastely, indulging in no third marriage, -keep her faith to the manes of her husband.</p> - -<p>She did die within a year after hearing the news of her -being Queen of Denmark, whence she did spring, and the -Kingdom of which had fallen to her. In this wise before -her death she did see her title of Highness, the which she -had borne so long, changed to that of Majesty, which yet -was hers but a short while, less than six months in all. I -ween she would gladly enough have borne the old title -still, an if she could have kept therewith her erstwhile -bloom of youth and beauty, for truly all empires and -kingdoms be as nothing compared with youth. Natheless -was it an honour and consolation to her before her death -to bear this name of Queen; but for all this, by what I -have heard say, she was firm resolved not to go to her -kingdom, but to finish out the rest of her days on her -jointure lands in Italy, at Tortona. And the folk of -that country did call her naught else but the Lady of -Tortona—not a very grand title and quite unworthy of -her. Thither she had retired a good while before her -decease, as well for sake of certain vows she had sworn to -perform at the holy places of that region, as to be nearer -the baths of those parts; for she had fallen into bad health -and grown exceeding gouty.</p> - -<p>Her life was spent in very pious, holy and honourable<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[245]</span> -exercises,—praying God and giving much alms and charity -toward the poor, and above all toward widows, among -whom she did not forget the unfortunate Madame Castellane -of Milan, the which we have seen at Court dragging -out a miserable existence, had it not been for the help of -the Queen Mother, which did always provide her somewhat -to live on. She was daughter of the Princess of Macedonia, -being a scion of that great house. Myself have -seen her a venerable and aged dame; and she had been -governess to her Highness. The latter, learning the extreme -poverty wherein the poor lady did live, sent to seek -her out, and had her brought to her side and did treat her -so well she never more felt the sore distress she had endured -in France.</p> - -<p>Such is the summary account I have been able to give -of this great and noble Princess, and how, a widow and a -very beautiful woman, she lived a most wise and prudent -life. True, it may be said she was married previously to -the Duke Sforza. Well and good! but he did die immediately -after, and they were married less than a year, and -she was made a widow at fifteen or sixteen. Whereupon -her uncle the Emperor did wed her to the Duke of Lorraine, -the better to strengthen himself in his divers alliances. -But once again she was widowed in the flower of -her age, having enjoyed her fine marriage but a very few -years. The days which were left her, the best of her life -and those most highly to be valued and most delightfully -to be enjoyed, these she did deliberately spend in a retired -and chaste widowhood.</p> - -<p>Well! seeing I am on the subject, I must e’en speak of -some other fair widows in briefest phrase,—and first of -one of former days, that noble widow, Blanche de -<span class="no-wrap">Montferrat,<a id="FNanchor_111" href="#Footnote_111" class="fnanchor">[111*]</a></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[246]</span> -one of the great and ancient houses of Italy, which -was Duchess of Savoy and the most beauteous and most -perfect Princess of her time, and one of the most prudent -and well advised. So well and wisely did she govern her -son’s minority and his lands, that never was seen so prudent -a dame and so excellent a mother, left a widow as -she was at three and twenty.</p> - -<p>She it was which did receive so honourably the young -King Charles VIII., on his way to his Kingdom of Naples, -in all her lands, and above all in her good town of Turin, -where she did afford him a very stately entry. Herself -was pleased to be present, and did walk in the progress -very sumptuously attired, showing she well understood -her dignity as a great lady; for she was in imposing array, -clad in a long robe of cloth of gold fretted, and all -bordered with great diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds, -and other rich jewels. Her head likewise was encircled -with the like precious stones, while at her neck she -wore a necklace or collar of huge Oriental pearls of priceless -worth, and on her arms bracelets of the same. She -was mounted on a fine white hackney, very magnificently -caparisoned and led by six tall lackeys, dressed in figured -cloth of gold. Following her came a large company -of damsels, very richly, neatly and charmingly dressed -in the Piedmontese fashion, that ’twas a pleasure to see -them, and after these a very strong body of gentlemen -and knights of the country. Then after her train did -enter and march into the city King Charles himself under -a rich canopy of state, lighting down at length at the -Castle, where he was lodged. There at the Gate, before -entering in, the Duchess of Savoy did present her son to -him, which was yet a mere boy; after which she did make<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[247]</span> -him a very excellent speech of welcome, putting at his -service all her lands and goods, both her own and those -of her son. This courtesy the King did accept with gratitude, -thanking her heartily and expressing great obligation -to her. Through all the city were to be seen the -scutcheons of France and of Savoy, bound together with -a true lovers’ knot, uniting the two scutcheons and the -two blazons, with these words, <i>Sanguinis arctus amor</i> -(Close the tie of blood), as described in the <i>Chronicle of</i> -<span class="no-wrap"><i>Savoy</i>.<a id="FNanchor_112" href="#Footnote_112" class="fnanchor">[112*]</a></span></p> - -<p>I have heard sundry of our fathers and mothers, which -had it of their own parents as eye-witnesses, and in especial -of the noble lady, the Séneschale de Poitou, my grandmother, -who was then a maid of honour at the Court, declare -how in those days naught else was talked of but the -beauty, wisdom and prudence of this same Princess, and -how all the Courtiers and gallants of the King’s suite, -when they were returned back to France from their journey -thither, were forever discoursing of her and entertaining -the dames and damsels of the Court with praises -of her beauty and virtue, and the King more than any, -which did show every sign of being smit to the heart with -love for so beautiful a lady.</p> - -<p>Yet apart from her beauty altogether, he had much -occasion to love her well; for she did help him by every -means she could, and did even strip her of all her precious -stones, pearls and jewelry, to lend them him to raise -money on in whatsoever way seemed good to him. This -was indeed a great obligation and sacrifice, seeing what -great attachment women do always have for their precious -stones, rings and jewelry, so as they would almost rather -lend and put in pawn some precious part of their own<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[248]</span> -body than their wealth of such things; I mean some -would, though not of course all. At any rate the kindness -done was a very great one; for but for this generosity, -and likewise that of the Marquise de Montferrat, -another very noble and very fair lady, he would have -come to downright shame in no long time, and must have -returned from his expedition before it was half done, -having undertaken the same without money. Herein he -was in the like sorry case with a certain French Bishop -that went to the Council of Trent without money and -without Latin. Verily a putting to sea without biscuit! -Yet is there a difference ’twixt the two; for what the one -did was of his fine, high spirit and noble ambition, the -which did close his eyes to all inconveniences, finding -naught impossible to a brave heart, whereas the other -was in lack both of mother wit and proper experience, -offending out of sheer ignorance and stupidity, unless indeed -it were that he hoped to send round the bag when -he got to his destination.</p> - -<p>In the description given of this magnificent entry I -have spoke of just above, is to be noted the splendour of -the attire and adornments of this same Princess, which -were more in accord (some will say) with what is becoming -a wife than a widow. On this the ladies did say at -the time that, to welcome so great a King, she might well -be excused so far, albeit he did hardly claim so great -expenditure; and further that great folk, men and women, -be a law to themselves, and that in those days widows, -so they said, were not so straightlaced and exact in their -dress as they have been for the last forty years. The -fact is a certain great lady I wot of, being in high favour -with a King, indeed his mistress, did dress her somewhat<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[249]</span> -in more quiet and modest garb than most, yet always in -silk, to the end she might the better conceal and hide -her game; wherefore the widows then at Court, being fain -to imitate her, did adopt the same fashion. Natheless -was she by no means so strict with herself, nor so stern -in her moderation, but that she dressed both prettily and -richly, only all in black and white, displaying more worldliness -therein than did exactly accord with strict widow’s -weeds, and in especial ever making a point of showing her -beautiful bosom.</p> - -<p>Myself did hear the Queen, mother of King Henri III., -on occasion of the coronation and marriage of that monarch, -say the same: how that widows in days gone by had -not the same carefulness as to their attire, modest bearing -and strict life, as nowadays. She had seen this in the -time of King Francis, who did love an easy-going Court -in all respects. Widows did even dance thereat, and were -taken as partners as readily as maids or wives. In fact -she did once command and beg M. de -<span class="no-wrap">Vaudemont,<a id="FNanchor_113" href="#Footnote_113" class="fnanchor">[113*]</a></span> -by way -of honouring the occasion, to lead out the Dowager Princess -of Condé to the dance. This he did, and danced a -full round with her, as they which were present for the -coronation, as I was myself, did see and well remember. -Such the freedom widows did then enjoy. Nowadays all -this is forbid them as if ’twere a sacrilege, as also the -wearing of colours, for none now dare wear aught but -black and white; though as for underskirts and petticoats, -these as well as their stockings, may be grey, drab, violet -or blue. Some indeed I have seen which have so far indulged -them as to adopt red, scarlet and chamois-yellow, -as in former days; for they could then wear any colour<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[250]</span> -for bodices and stockings, though not for robes, by what -I am told.</p> - -<p>Moreover this same Duchess we have been speaking of -might well enough wear such a robe of cloth of gold, seeing -’twas her proper ducal habit and state costume, and -therefore becoming and lawful, for to display the sovranty -and high dignity of her exalted rank. And this -is even now done by our Countesses and Duchesses, the -which can and do wear the robes belonging to their several -orders on state occasions. Only our widows of to-day -dare under no circumstances wear jewelry, except -only in rings, and on mirrors and <i>Books of Hours</i> and the -like, and set in handsome belts, but not on neck or arms, -or even any great display of pearls in necklaces and -bracelets. Yet I do declare solemnly I have seen widows -as becomingly attired in their white and black, and every -whit as attractively, as some of our tawdrily dressed wives -and maids.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">5.</p> - -<p>However enough said concerning this foreign -Princess. ’Tis time to say somewhat of our -French Princesses, and I would wish first to -deal with our fair and unsullied Queen, Louise de -<span class="no-wrap">Lorraine,<a id="FNanchor_114" href="#Footnote_114" class="fnanchor">[114*]</a></span> -wife of King Henri III., late deceased. This -Princess can and ought to be commended on many -grounds. In her marriage she did bear her towards the -King her husband so wisely, modestly and loyally, as that -the knot wherewith she was bound in wedlock with him -did always remain so firm and indissoluble, no breaking -or slackness of the same was ever found, and this although<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[251]</span> -the King did sometimes wander elsewhither to satisfy his -passions, as great folks will, the which have a special -freedom accorded them. Beside this, quite at the very -beginning of their married life, in fact within ten days -of their union, he did give her no slight cause for displeasure, -for that he did deprive her of her women of the -chamber and maids of honour, which had ever been with -her and in her service, when still a girl, whereat she was -exceeding sorry. ’Twas a heavy blow to her affection, in -especial for Mlle. de Changy, a very fair and most honourable -damsel, and one little deserving to be banished the -company of her mistress and expelled the Court. Indeed -’tis ever a sore despite to lose a trusty companion and -confidante. I have heard how one day a lady, one of her -most privy friends, was presuming enough to chide her -and urge, by way of jest and half-serious flaunt, that, -seeing she could never have children by the King, for -many reasons then commonly alleged, she would do well -to borrow secret aid of some third person, for to have -offspring, to the end she might not be left without authority, -supposing her husband did chance to die, but might -some day very like be Queen Mother of a King of France, -and hold the same rank and high estate as the Queen -mother-in-law. But the lady did long regret her counsel, -semi-burlesque as it was; for the Queen took the same -exceeding ill, and did never after like her worthy adviser, -preferring to base her dignity on her chastity and virtuous -life rather than on a lineage sprung of evil-doing. -Still the advice, in a worldly point of view and according -to Machiavelli’s doctrine, was not to be despised.</p> - -<p>Very different was the behaviour, so ’tis said, of Queen -Mary of England, third wife of King Louis XII. Being<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[252]</span> -but ill-content and distrustful of the feebleness of the -King her husband, she was fain to sound these waters for -herself, taking for guide in crossing the ford the noble -Comte d’Angoulême, the same which was afterward King -Francis, then a young, handsome and charming Prince, -to whom she did show much favour, always addressing -him as “My excellent son-in-law;” as indeed he was, having -already married Madame Claude, daughter of King -Louis. The fact is she was smit with love for him; and -he on seeing her was in much the same case. The end -was the pair were very nigh coming together, the which -they would surely have done but for the late M. de -<span class="no-wrap">Grignaux,<a id="FNanchor_115" href="#Footnote_115" class="fnanchor">[115*]</a></span> -a nobleman of honour and good birth from Périgord, -a prudent and well advised man, who had been -gentleman in waiting to the Queen Anne, as we have above -said, and was so still to Queen Mary. He seeing the play -was very like to come off, did chide the aforesaid Comte -d’Angoulême for the fault he was about to commit, saying -with an angry energy: “Nay! by the Risen God (this -was his favourite oath), what would you be at? See you -not this woman, keen and cunning as she is, is fain to draw -you to her, to the end you may get her with child? But -an if she come to have a son, what of you? You are still -plain Comte d’Angoulême, and never King of France, as -you do hope to be. The King her husband is old, and -cannot now make her children. You must needs meddle -and go with her, you with your young hot blood, and she -the same, and by the Risen Lord! the end will be she will -just catch on like a limed bird, conceive you a child, and -there you are! After that you’ve only to say, ‘Goodbye! -my chance of the fair Kingdom of France!’ Wherefore -I say, reflect.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[253]</span></p> - -<p>In fact the said Queen was for practising and proving -true the Spanish saw or proverb, which saith, <i>munca muger -aguda murio sin herederos</i>, “no clever woman ever -died without heirs;” or in other words, an if her husband -make her none, she will call in other help to get her -end. Now M. d’Angoulême <i>did</i> reflect and sware he was -going to be wise and refrain; yet tried and tempted again -and again with the wiles and advances of the fair Englishwoman, -did presently throw him more fiercely than -ever into the pursuit of her. Such the effects of love and -passion! such the power of a mere bit of flesh and blood, -that for its sake men will surrender kingdoms and empires, -and altogether lose the same, as we find over and over -again in History. Eventually M. de Grignaux, seeing the -young man was bent on his own undoing and the carrying -further of his amour, told Madame d’Angoulême, his -mother, of the matter, which did so reprove and smartly -chide him, as that he gave up the sport once and for all.</p> - -<p>None the less ’tis said the Queen did all she could to -live and reign as Queen Mother for some little while before -and after the death of the King her husband. However -she lost him too soon, and had no sufficient time to carry -through her purpose. Yet even so, she did spread the -report, after the King’s death, that she was pregnant. -Accordingly, albeit naught really inside her belly, ’tis said -she would swell out the outside thereof by means of linen -wrappages gradually more and more every day, and that -when her full time was come, she did propose to have -ready a supposititious child of another woman, and produce -this at the instant of her pretended delivery. But -the Queen Regent, which was from Savoy and knew somewhat -about child-bearing and the like, seeing things were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[254]</span> -going somewhat too fast for her and her son, had her so -well watched and examined of physicians and midwives, -that her wrappages and clouts being noted, she was found -out and baulked in her design, and instead of being Queen -Mother was incontinently sent back to her own country.</p> - -<p>See the difference betwixt this Princess Mary and our -good Queen Louise, which was so wise, chaste and virtuous, -she did never desire, whether by true or false pretence, -to be Queen Mother. But an if she had wished to -play the like game as other, there would have been little -difficulty, for there was none to watch her with any care,—and -’twould have sore surprised not a few. And for -her behaviour our present King doth owe her much -thanks, and should love and honour her greatly; for an -if she had played this game, and had brought forward an -infant, her own or another’s, the King instead of being -what he is, would have been but a Regent of France, mayhap -not even that. And this feeble title would ill have -guarded him from many more wars and troubles than he -hath actually had.</p> - -<p>I have heard some, both men of religion and of the -world, hold and maintain this opinion: that our Queen -would have done better to have played this part, and that -in that case France would never have endured so much -wretchedness, poverty and ruin as she hath now, and is -like to have, and the True Faith better supported into -the bargain. As to this I can but refer me to those gallant -and curious questioners which do debate these points -(but myself do believe never a word of it, for we be all -right well satisfied with our King, God save him!) for -them to pronounce judgment thereon; for they have a -fine subject, and one admitting wide discussion as to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[255]</span> -State’s best interests, though not as to God’s, as seemeth -me. To Him our Queen hath always been deeply devoted, -loving and adoring Him so well, that to serve Him, she -would e’en forget herself and her high estate. For being -a very beauteous Princess (the King indeed did choose her -for her beauty and high virtues), and young, tender and -most charming, she did give up herself to naught else but -only to serve God, do her devotions, visit constantly the -hospitals, heal the sick and bury the dead, forgetting nor -omitting any of the good and holy works which in this -province the holy devout and righteous ladies, Princesses -and Queens of days of yore, did practise in the early -Church. After the death of her husband, she did ever -lead the same life, spending her time in weeping and -mourning for him, beseeching God for his soul; and in -fact her life as a widow was of the same holy character -as her married life had been.</p> - -<p>’Tis true she was supposed, during her husband’s lifetime, -to have leaned somewhat to the side of the party of -the <i>Union</i>, because, being so good a Christian and Catholic -as she was, she did naturally prefer them which were -fighting and contending for her Faith and Religion; yet -did she never more favour them, but quitted their faction -altogether, after their assassination of her husband, -though claiming no other vengeance of punishment as a -right but what it should please God to inflict, not that -she did not duly petition men, and above all our King, -with whom lieth the performing of justice for this monstrous -deed of a man of -<span class="no-wrap">religion.<a id="FNanchor_116" href="#Footnote_116" class="fnanchor">[116]</a></span> -Thus both an married -life and widowhood, did this excellent Princess live blameless. -Eventually she died in the enjoyment of a most -noble and worthy repute, having long languished in sickness<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[256]</span> -and grown hectic and parched,—’twas said owing to -her overmuch indulgence in sorrow. She made a very excellent -and pious end. Just before her death, she had her -crown placed at the head of her bed close beside her, and -would never have it removed from there so long as she -yet lived, directing that after her death she should be -crowned and so remain till her body was laid beneath the -ground.</p> - -<p>She did leave behind her a sister, Madame de -<span class="no-wrap">Joyeuse,<a id="FNanchor_117" href="#Footnote_117" class="fnanchor">[117*]</a></span> -which was her counterpart in her chaste and modest life, -and did make great mourning and lamentation for her -husband; and verily he was a brave, valiant and well accomplished -Lord. Beside, I have heard say, how when -our present King was in such straits, and shut up and -imprisoned as in a bag in Dieppe, which the Duc du -Maine held invested with forty thousand men, that an if -she had been in the place of the Commander of the town -De Chastes, she would have had revenge of the death of -her husband in a very different fashion from the said -worthy Commander, who for the obligations he lay under -to M. de Joyeuse, ought never to have surrendered, in her -opinion. Nor did she ever like the man afterward, but -did hate him worse than the plague, being unable to excuse -a fault as he had committed, albeit others deem him -to have kept faith and loyalty according to his promises. -But then an angry woman, be the original cause of offence -just or unjust, will take no satisfaction; and this was the -way with this Princess, who could never bring herself to -like our reigning monarch, though she did sore regret the -late King and wore mourning for him, and this although -she did belong to the <i>League</i>; for she always declared both -her husband and she did lie under many obligations to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[257]</span> -him. In fine, she is a good and a wise Princess, and one -that is honoured by the grief and respect she did show to -the ashes of her husband,—for some while that is, for -eventually she did marry again with M. de Luxembourg. -So young as she was, was she to consume away in vain -regrets forever?</p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">6.</p> - -<p>The Duchesse de Guise, Catherine of Clèves, -one of the three daughters of the house of -Nevers (all three Princesses that can surely -never be enough commended, no less for their -beauty than for their virtue and on whom I have writ a -separate chapter in another place), hath celebrated and -doth celebrate all her days in right worthy fashion the -irreparable loss of her noble husband; but indeed what a -husband was he! He was truly the nonpareil of the world, -and this and no less she did call him in sundry of her letters, -the which she writ to some of her most familiar -friends and lady companions, which myself also did see -after her bereavement, showing them plainly therein by -the sad and mournful words she used with what sore regrets -her soul was wounded.</p> - -<p>Her noble sister-in-law, Madame de -<span class="no-wrap">Montpensier,<a id="FNanchor_118" href="#Footnote_118" class="fnanchor">[118*]</a></span> -of whom I do hope to speak further elsewhere, did also bewail -her husband bitterly. Albeit she did lose him when -still very young, and beautiful and charming for many -perfections both of mind and body, she did never think -of marrying again,—and this although she had wedded -him when a mere child in years, and he might have been -her grandfather, so that she had tasted but sparely with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[258]</span> -him of the fruits of wedlock. Yet would she never consent -to indulge a second taste of the same and make up her -defect and arrears in that kind by another marriage.</p> - -<p>I have heard not a few noblemen, gentlemen and great -ladies oftentimes express their wonder that the Princesse -de Condé, the Dowager Princess I mean, of the house of -Longueville, did always refuse to marry again, seeing -how she was one of the most beautiful ladies in all France, -and one of the most desirable. But she did remain satisfied -with her condition of widowhood, and would never take -a second husband, and this though left a widow very -young.</p> - -<p>The Marquise de Rothelin, her mother, did the like, who -beautiful woman as she was, died a widow. Verily mother -and daughter both might well have set afire a whole kingdom -with their lovely eyes and sweet looks, the which were -renowned at Court and through France for the most -charming and alluring ever seen. And doubtless they did -fire many hearts; yet never a word was ever to be spoke -of love or marriage, both having loyally kept the faith -once pledged to their dead husbands, and never married -again.</p> - -<p>I should never have done if I were to name all the Princesses -of our Kings’ Courts in similar case. I must e’en -defer their panegyric to another place. So I will leave -them now, and say somewhat of sundry other ladies, -which though no Princesses, be yet of as illustrious race -and generous heart as they.</p> - -<p>Fulvia Mirandola, Madame de Randan, of the noble -house of Admirande, did remain unwed, though left a -widow in the flower of her age and her exquisite beauty. -So great mourning did she make over her loss, that never<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[259]</span> -more would she deign to look at herself in her mirror, but -refused the sight of her lovely face to the pellucid crystal -that was so fain to see the same. Her act though not her -words were like those of an ancient dame, which breaking -her mirror and dedicating the fragments to Venus, spake -these words to the Goddess:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Dico tibi Veneri speculum, quai cernere talem</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Qualis sum nolo, qualis eram nequeo.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>(To thee, Venus, I do dedicate my mirror, for such as I am -now, I care not to see myself, and such as I was, I cannot -more.)</p> -</div> - -<p>Not that Madame de Randan did scorn her mirror for -this reason, for indeed she was very beautiful, but by -reason of a vow she had made to her husband’s shade, who -was one of the best and noblest gentlemen of all France. -For his sake she did altogether leave the world and its -vanities, dressing her always very soberly. She wore a -veil habitually, never showing her hair; yet spite of careless -head-dress and her neglect of appearances, her great -beauty was none the less manifest. The late M. de Guise, -late deceased, was used always to call her naught but <i>the -nun</i>; for she was attired and put on like a religious. This -he would say by way of jest and merriment with her; for -he did admire and honour her greatly, seeing how well -affectioned and attached she was to his service and all his -house.</p> - -<p>Madame de Carnavalet, twice a widow, did refuse to wed -for the third time with M. d’Espernon, then known as M. -de la Valette the younger, and at the commencement of his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[260]</span> -high favour at Court. So deep was he in love with her, -that unable to get of her what he would so fain have had, -for truly she was a very lovely widow and very charming, -he did follow her up persistently and press her sore to -marry him, inducing the King three or four times over to -speak to her in his favour. Yet would she never put herself -again under a husband’s yoke. She had been married -twice, her first husband being the Comte de Montravel, -the second M. de Carnavalet. And when her most privy -friends, myself first and foremost, who was much her admirer, -did chide her for her fault she was committing in -refusing so high a match, one that would place her in -the very midmost and focus of greatness, wealth, riches, -favour and every dignity, seeing how M. de la Valette was -chiefest favourite of the King, and deemed of him only -second to himself, she would answer: that her delight lay -not at all in these things, but in her own free-will and the -perfect liberty and satisfaction.</p> - -<p>Madame de Bourdeille, sprung of the illustrious and -ancient house of Montbron and of the Counts of Périgord -and Viscounts of Aunay, being left a widow at the age of -seven or eight and thirty, a very beautiful woman (and I -do think that in all Guienne, of which province she was, -was never another that in her day did surpass her in -beauty, charm and good looks, for indeed she had one of -the finest, tallest and most gracious figures could anywhere -be seen, and if the body was fair the mind was to -match), being so desirable and now widowed, was wooed -and sought after in marriage by three great and wealthy -Lords. To them all she made reply as follows: “I will -not say, as many dames do, that they will never, never -marry again, adding such asseverations you can in no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[261]</span> -wise doubt their firm intention. But I am ready to declare -that, unless God and my carnal being give me not -very different desire to what I feel at this present, and -change me utterly, I have very surely said farewell forever -to matrimony.” Then when another did further object: -“Nay! Madam, but would you wish to burn away -in the flower of your age?” she added: “I wot not what -you mean by burning away; but I do assure you that up -to the present hour, it hath never yet been possible for -me to warm me even, all alone in my bed which is widowed -and cold as ice. Yet in the company of a second husband, -I say not but that, coming nigh his fire, I might -not mayhap burn as you say. But forasmuch as cold is -more easy to endure than heat, I am resolved to continue -in my present condition, and abstain from a second marriage.” -And this resolve she did so express, she hath -kept to this day, having remained a widow twelve years, -without losing aught of her beauty, ever maintaining and -holding sacred one fixed determination. This is truly a -great obligation to her husband’s ashes, and a testimony -how well she loved him, as well as an exceeding binding -claim on her children to honour her memory forever, seeing -how she did end her days a widow.</p> - -<p>The late M. d’Estrozze was one of the aspirants to her -hand, and had had his wishes conveyed to her. But great, -noble and allied with the Queen Mother as he was, she did -refuse the match, excusing herself in seemly terms. Yet -what a strange humour, after all, to be beautiful, honourable -and a very rich heiress, and finish out one’s days over -a pen or a solitary seam, lone and cold as ice, and spend -so many widowed nights! Oh! how many dames there be -of a very different complexion,—though not a few also<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[262]</span> -of the like! But an if I were for citing all these, I -should never have ended; and especially if I should include -among our Christian ladies those of pagan times. -Of these was that right fair, and good and gentle Roman -lady of yore, Martia, second daughter of Cato of Utica, -sister to Portia, who after losing her husband incessantly -bewailing the said loss, being asked when would be the last -day of her mourning, did make answer ’twould be only -when the last day of her life should come. Moreover being -both very beautiful and very rich, she was more than -once asked when she would marry again, to which she replied: -“’Twill be when I can find a man that will marry -me rather for my merits than for my wealth.” And God -knoweth she was both rich and beautiful, and no less virtuous, -than either, nay! far more so; else had she not -been Cato’s daughter nor Portia’s sister. Yet did she -pass this rebuff on her lovers and suitors, and would -have it they did seek her for her wealth and not for her -merits and virtues, albeit she was as well furnished with -these as any. Thus did she readily rid her of these importunate -gallants.</p> - -<p>Saint Jerome in a letter he wrote to one Principia, a -virgin, doth celebrate the praises of a gentle Roman lady -of his time, which was named Marcella, of a good and -noble house, and sprung from a countless line of consuls, -pro-consuls, Praetors, and one that had been left a -widow very young. She was much sought after, both for -her youth and for the antiquity of her house, as well as -for her lovely figure, the which did singularly entrance -the will of men (so saith Saint Jerome, using these very -words; note his observation), and her seemly mien and -virtuous character. Among other suitors was a rich and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[263]</span> -high-born Roman Lord, likewise of Consular rank, and -by name Cerealis, which did eagerly seek to persuade her -to give him her hand in second marriage. Being something -far stricken in years, he did promise her great -wealth and superb gifts as chiefest advantage in the -match. Above all her mother, Albina by name, did -strongly urge her to the marriage, thinking it an excellent -offer and one not lightly to be refused. But she -made answer: “An if I had any wish to throw myself in -the water and entangle me in the bonds of a second marriage, -and not rather vow me to a second chastity, yet -would I fain prefer to get me an husband rather an inheritance.” -Then, the lover deeming she had said this -with an eye to his advanced age, he made reply: that old -folk might very well live long, and young ones die early. -But she retorted: “True, the young may die early, but an -old man cannot live long.” At which word he did take -umbrage, and so left her. I find this fair lady’s saying -admirable and her resolve most commendable.</p> - -<p>Not less so was that of Martia, named above, whose -behaviour was not so open to reproof as that of her -sister Portia. For the latter, after the death of her -husband, did determine to live no longer, but kill herself. -Then all instruments of iron being removed, wherewith -she might have taken her life, she did swallow live coals, -and so burned all her inwards, declaring that for a brave -woman means can never be lacking whereby to contrive -her death. This hath been well told by Martial in one -of his Epigrams, writ expressly on this lady’s fate, and -a fine poem it is. Yet did she not, according to certain -philosophers, and in especial Aristotle in his Ethics, -(speaking of courage or fortitude) show herein any high<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[264]</span> -degree of courage or magnanimity in killing herself, as -many others have done, and her own husband; for that, -to avoid a greater ill, they do throw themselves upon the -less. On this point I have writ a discourse elsewhere.</p> - -<p>Be this as it may, ’twould surely have been better, had -this same Portia rather devoted her days to mourning her -husband and avenging his death than in contriving her -own. For this did serve no good end whatsoever, except -mayhap a gratification of her own pique, as I have heard -some women say in blame of her action. Natheless for -myself, I cannot enough commend her, and all other -widows, which do show their love for their dead husbands -as lively as in their lifetime. And this is why Saint Paul -hath so highly praised and commended them, holding this -doctrine of his great Master. Yet have I been taught -of some of the most clear sighted and most eloquent persons -I know, that beautiful young widows which do -remain in that condition in the very flower of their sweet -age and heyday of their life, do exercise an over great -cruelty upon themselves and nature, so to conspire -against their own selves, and refuse to taste again the -gentle joys of a second marriage. This much doth divine -law no less than human allow them, as well as nature, -youth and beauty; yet must they needs abstain in obedience -to some vow and obstinate resolve, the which they -have fantastically determined in their silly heads to keep -to the vain and empty simulacra of their husbands, that -standing like sentinels forgot in the other world, and -dwelling yonder in the Elysian fields, be either altogether -careless of them and their doings or mayhap do but -deride the same. On this question generally all such dames -should refer them to the eloquent remonstrances and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[265]</span> -excellent arguments the which Anna doth bring forward -to her sister Dido, in the Fourth Book of the Aeneid. -These be most excellent for to teach a fair young widow -not over sternly to swear a vow of never altering her -condition, rather out of bigotry than real religion. An -if after their husbands’ death, they should be crowned -with fair chaplets of flowers or herbs, as was the custom -of yore, and as is still done with young maids in our day, -this triumph would be good and creditable while it lasted, -and not of over long duration. But now all that may -be given them, is a few words of admiration, the which -do vanish into air so soon as spoken and perish as quick -as the dead man’s corse. Well then, let all fair young -widows recognise the world and its claims, since they be -of it still, and leave religion to old women and the strait -rule to perpetual widowhood.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">7.</p> - -<p>Well! enough said of widows which go fasting. -’Tis time now to speak of another sort, to wit -those which detesting all vows and abnegations -against second marriages, do wed again and -once more claim the aid of the gentle and agreeable God -Hymen. Of such there be some which, over fond of their -admirers during their husband’s life, be already dreaming -of another match before these be well dead, planning aforehand -betwixt them and their lovers the sort of life they -will lead together: “Ah, me! an if mine husband were -but dead,” they say, “we would do this, we would do -that; we would live after this pleasant fashion, we would -arrange it after that,—and all so discreetly none should<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[266]</span> -ever suspect our bygone loves. A right merry life we -would have of it then; we would go to Paris, to Court, -and bear us so wisely naught should ever do us hurt. You -would pay court to such and such a great lady, I to such -and such a great nobleman; we would get this from the -King, and that. We would get our children provided with -tutors and guardians, and have never a care for their -property and governance. Rather would we be making -our fortunes, or else enjoying theirs, pending their coming -of age. We would have plenishing enough, with that -of mine husband to boot; the last for sure we could not -lack, for I wot well where be the title deeds and good -crown pieces. In a word, who so happy as we should be?”—and -so on and so on.</p> - -<p>Such the fine words and pleasant plans these wives do -indulge in to their lovers by anticipation. Some of them -do only kill their husbands in wishes, words, hopes and -longings; but others there be that do actually haste them -on the way to the tomb, if they be over laggard. Cases -of this sort have been, and are yet to-day, more plenty -before our Courts of Law and Parliaments than any would -suppose. But verily ’tis better and more agreeable they -do not as did a certain Spanish dame. For being ill -treated of her husband, she did kill him, and afterward -herself, having first writ this epitaph following, which -she left on the table in her closet, indited in her own -hand:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Aqui yaze qui a buscado una muger,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Y con ella casado, no l’ha podido hazer muger,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">A las otras, no a mi, cerca mi, dava contentamiento,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Y pore este, y su flaqueza y atrevimiento,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Yo lo he matado,</div> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267" style="margin-left: 1.3em;">[267]</span> - <div class="verse indent0">Por le dar pena de su pecado:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Ya my tan bien, por falta de my juyzio,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Y por dar fin à la mal-adventura qu’yo aviô.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>(Here lieth one which did seek a wife, yet could not satisfy -a wife; to other women, but not me, though near me, he would -give contentment. And for this, and for his cowardice and -insolence, I have killed him, to punish him for his sins. Myself -likewise I have done to death, for lack of understanding, -and to make an end of the unhappy life I had.)</p> -</div> - -<p>This lady was named Donna Madallena de Soria, the -which, in the judgment of some, did a fine thing to kill -her husband for the wrong he had done her; but did no -less foolishly to slay herself,—and indeed she doth admit -as much, saying “for lack of understanding she did herself -to death.” She had done better to have led a merry life -afterward, were it not, mayhap, she did fear the law and -dread to get within its clutches, wherefore she did prefer -to triumph over herself rather than trust her repute to -the authority of the Judges. I can assure you, there have -always been, and are yet women more astute than this; for -they do play their game so cunningly and covertly, that -lo! you have the husband gone to another world, and themselves -living a merry life and getting their complaisant -gallants to give ’em no mere artificial joys with <i>godemiches</i> -and the like, but the good, sound, real article.</p> - -<p>Other widows there be which do show more wisdom, -virtue and love toward their late husbands, with never a -suspicion of cruelty toward these. Rather they do mourn, -lament and bewail them with such extremity of sorrow -you would think they would not live one hour more. -“Alackaday!” they cry, “am not I the most unhappy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[268]</span> -woman in all the world, and the most ill-starred to have -lost so precious a possession? Gracious God! why dost -not kill me straight, that I may follow him presently to -the tomb? Nay! I care not to live on after him; for -what is left me in this world or can ever come to me, to -give me solace? An it were not for these babes he hath left -me in pledge, and that they do yet need some stay, verily -I would kill myself this very minute. Cursed be the hour -ever I was born! If only I might see his ghost, or behold -him in a vision or dream, or by some magic art, how -blessed should I be e’en now! Oh! sweetheart, sweet soul! -can I in no way follow thee in death? Yea! I will follow -thee, so soon as, free from all human hindrance, I may -be alone and do myself to death. What could make my -life worth living, now I have had so irreparable a loss? -With thee alive I could have no other wish but to live; with -thee dead, no wish but only to die! Well, well! is’t not -better for me to die now in thy love and favour and mine -own good repute and satisfaction, than to drag on so -sorrowful and unhappy a life, wherein is never a scrap -of credit to be gotten? Great God! what ills and torments -I endure by thine absence! what a sweet deliverance, an -if I might but see thee soon again, what a crown of bliss! -Alas! he was so handsome, he was so lovable! He was -another Mars, another Adonis! and more than all, he was -so kind, and loved me so true, and treated me so fondly! -In one word, in losing him, I have lost all mine happiness.”</p> - -<p>Such and an infinity of the like words do our heart-broken -widows indulge in after the death of their husbands. -Some will make their moan in one way, others in another, -but always something to the effect of what I have set -down. Some do cry out on heaven, others curse this earth<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[269]</span> -of ours; some do blaspheme God, others vent their spleen -on the world. Some again do feign to swoon, while others -counterfeit death; some faint away, and others pretend -to be mad and desperate and out of their wits, knowing -no one and refusing to speak. In a word, I should never -have done, if I were to try to specify all the false, feigned, -affected tricks they do use for to prove their grief and -mourning to the world. Of course I speak not of all, but -of some, and a fine few these be and a good round number.</p> - -<p>Good folk of either sex that would console suchlike doleful -widows, thinking no ill and supposing their grief genuine, -do but lose their pains and none is a whit the better. -Others again of these comforters, when they see the poor -suffering object of their solicitude failing to keep up -the farce and make the proper grimaces, do instruct them -in their part, like a certain great lady I wot of, which -would tell her daughter, “Now faint, my pet; you don’t -show near enough concern.”</p> - -<p>Then presently, after all these wondrous rites performed, -just like a torrent that after dashing headlong -down its course, doth anon subside again and quietly -return to its bed, or like a river that hath overflowed its -banks, so you will see these widows recover them and -return to their former complexion, gradually get back -their spirits, begin to be merry once again and dream of -worldly vanities. Instead of the death’s-heads they were -used to wear, whether painted, engraven or in relief, -instead of dead men’s bones set crosswise or enclosed in -coffins, instead of tears, whether of jet or of enamelled -gold, or simply painted, you will see them now adopt -portraits of their husbands worn round the neck, though -still adorned with death’s-heads and tears painted in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[270]</span> -scrolls and the like, in fact sundry little gewgaws, yet -all so prettily set off that spectators suppose they do use -and wear the same rather by way of mourning for their -deceased husbands than for worldly show. Then presently, -just as we see young birds, whenas they quit the -parental nest, do not at the very first make very long -flights, but fluttering from branch to branch do little by -little learn the use of their wings, so these widows, quitting -their mourning habits and desperate grief, do not appear -in public at once, but taking greater and greater freedom -by degrees, do at last throw off their mourning altogether, -and toss their widows’ weeds and flowing veil to the dogs, -as the saying is, and letting love more than ever fill their -heads, do dream of naught else but only a second marriage -or other return to wanton living. So we find their great -and violent sorrow hath no long duration. It had been -better far to have exercised more moderation in their -sorrow.</p> - -<p>I knew once a very fair lady, which after her husband’s -death was so woebegone and utterly cast down that she -would tear her hair, and disfigure her cheeks and bosom, -pulling the longest face ever she could. And when folk -did chide her for doing such wrong to her lovely countenance, -“My God!” she would cry, “what would you have? -What use is my pretty face to me now? Who should I -safeguard it for, seeing mine husband is no more?” Yet -some eight months later, who but she is making up her -face with Spanish white and rouge and besprinkling her -locks with powder,—a marvellous change truly?</p> - -<p>Hereof I will cite an excellent example, for to prove my -contention, that of a fair and honourable lady of Ephesus, -which having lost her husband could find no consolation<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[271]</span> -whatever in spite of all efforts of kinsmen and friends. -Accordingly following her husband’s funeral, with endless -grief and sorrow, with sobs, cries, tears and lamentations, -after he was duly put away in the charnel-house where his -body was to rest, she did throw herself therein in spite of -all that could be done to hinder, swearing and protesting -stoutly she would never leave that place, but would there -tarry to the end and finish her days beside her husband’s -corpse and never, never abandon the same. This resolution -she did hold to, and did actually so live by the space -of two or three days. Meantime, as fortune would have -it, a man of those parts was executed for some crime and -hanged in the city, and afterward carried forth the walls -to the gibbets there situate to the end of the bodies of -malefactors so hanged and put to death should there -remain for an example to others, carefully watched by a -band of officers and soldiers to prevent their being carried -off. So it fell out that a soldier that was guarding the -body, and was standing sentry, did hear near by a very -lamentable voice crying and approaching perceived ’twas -in the charnel-house. Having gone down therein, he beheld -the said lady, as fair and beautiful as day, all bathed in -tears and lamenting sore; and accosting her, set him to -enquiring the reason of her pitiful state, the which she -told him gently enough. Thereupon doing his endeavours -to console her grief, but naught succeeding for the first -time, he did return again and once again. Finally he was -enabled to gain his point, and did little by little comfort -her and got her to dry her eyes; till at length hearkening -to reason, she did yield so far as that he had her twice -over, holding her on her back on the very coffin of her -husband, which did serve as their couch. This done,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[272]</span> -they did swear marriage, one with the other; after which -happy consummation, the soldier did return to his duty, -to guard the gibbet,—for ’twas a matter of life and death -to him. But fortunate as he had been in this fine enterprise -of his and its carrying out, his misfortune now was -such that while he was so inordinately taking his pleasure, -lo! the kinsfolk of the poor dangling criminal did steal up, -for to cut the body down, an if they should find it unguarded. -So finding no guard there, they did cut it down -with all speed, and carried the corpse away with them -swiftly, to bury it where they might, to the end they might -rid them of so great dishonour and a sight so foul and -hateful to the dead man’s kindred. The soldier coming -up and finding the body a-missing, hied him in despair to -his mistress, to tell her his calamity and how he was ruined -and undone; for the law of that country was that any -soldier which should sleep on guard and suffer the body -to be carried off, should he put in its place and hanged -instead, which risk he did thus run. The lady, who had -but now been consoled of him, and had felt sore need of -comfort for herself, did quick find the like for him, and -said as follows: “Be not afeared; only come help me to -lift mine husband from his tomb, and we will hang him -and set him up in place of the other; so they will take -him for the other.” No sooner said than done. Moreover -’tis said the first occupant of the gibbet had had an ear -cut off; so she did the same to the second, the better to -preserve the likeness. Next day the officers of justice did -visit the place, but found naught amiss. Thus did she save -her gallant by a most abominable deed and wicked act -toward her husband,—the very same woman, I would have -you note, which had so grievously deplored and lamented<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[273]</span> -his loss, so that no man would ever have expected so -shameful an issue.</p> - -<p>The first time ever I heard this history, ’twas told by M. -<span class="no-wrap">d’Aurat,<a id="FNanchor_119" href="#Footnote_119" class="fnanchor">[119*]</a></span> -which did relate it to the gallant M. du Gua -and sundry that were dining with him. M. du Gua was -not one to fail to appreciate such a tale and to profit -thereby, no man in all the world loving better a good anecdote -or better able to turn the same to account. Accordingly -soon after, being come into the Queen’s chamber, -he saw there a young, new-made widow, but just bereaved -and all disconsolate, her veil drawn half way down her -face, sad and pitiful, with scarce a word for any man. -Of a sudden M. du Gua said to me: “Dost see yonder -widow? well! before a year be out, she will one day be -doing as the lady of Ephesus did.” And so she did, though -not altogether so shamefully; but she did marry a man of -base condition, even as M. du Gua had foretold.</p> - -<p>The same story I had also of M. de Beau-Joyeux, valet -of the chamber to the Queen Mother, and the best violin -player in Christendom. Not only was he perfect in his art -and music generally, but he was likewise of an amiable -disposition, and well instructed, above all in excellent -tales and fine stories, little known and of rare quality. -Of these he was by no means niggardly with his more intimate -friends, and beside could relate sundry from his own -experience, for in his day he had both seen many good -love adventures and had not a few of his own; for what -with his noble gift of music and his good, bold spirit, -two weapons very meet for love, he could carry far. The -Maréchal de Brissac had given him to the Queen Mother, -having sent him to her from Piedmont with his company -of violins, the whole most exquisite and complete. He was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[274]</span> -then called Baltazarin, but did after change his name. -Of his composition were those pretty ballets that be always -danced at Court. He was a great friend of M. du Gua and -myself; and we would often converse together. On these -occasions he had always some good tale ready to tell, -especially of love and ladies’ wiles. Among such he did -tell us that of the lady of Ephesus, already heard from -M. d’Aurat, as I have mentioned, who said he had it -from Lampridius. Since then I have read it also in the -<i>Book of Obsequies</i> (des Funérailles), a right excellent -work, dedicated to the late M. de Savoie.</p> - -<p>The author might surely have spared us this digression, -some may object. Yea!—but then I was fain to make -mention of my friend hereanent, which did oft bring the -story to my mind, whenever he beheld any of our woe-begone -widows. “Look!” he would exclaim, “see yonder -one that will some day play the part of our lady of -Ephesus, or else mayhap she hath played it already.” -And by my faith, ’twas a mighty strange tragi-comedy, an -act full of heartlessness, so cruelly to insult her dead -husband.</p> - -<p>At the massacre of the Saint Bartholomew was slain -the Seigneur de Pleuviau, who in his time had been a right -gallant soldier, without a doubt, in the War of Tuscany -under M. de Soubise, as well as in the Civil War, as he did -plainly show at the battle of Jarnac, being in command -of a regiment there, and in the siege of Niort. Some -while after the soldier which had killed him did inform -his late wife, all distraught with grief and tears,—she -was both beautiful and wealthy,—that an if she would -not marry him, he would kill her and make her go the -same way as her husband; for at that merry time, ’twas<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[275]</span> -all fighting and cut-throat work. The unhappy woman -accordingly, which was still both young and fair, was -constrained, for to save her life, to celebrate wedding and -funeral all in one. Yet was she very excusable; for -indeed what could a poor fragile, feeble woman have done -else, unless it had been to kill herself, or give her tender -bosom to the murderous steel? But verily</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Le temps n’est plus, belle bergeronnette,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">(Those days be done, fair shepherdess;)</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>and these fond fanatics of yore exist no more. Beside, -doth not our holy Christian faith forbid it? This is a -grand excuse for all widows nowadays, who always say,—and -if ’twere not forbid of God, they would kill themselves. -Thus do they mask their inaction.</p> - -<p>At this same massacre was made another widow, a lady -of very good family and most beauteous and charming. -The same, while, yet in the first desolation of widowhood, -was forced by a gentleman that I know well enough by -name; whereat was she so bewildered and disconsolate she -did well nigh lose her senses for some while. Yet presently -after she did recover her wits and making the best of her -widowhood and going back little by little to worldly vanities -and regaining her natural lively spirits, did forget her -wrongs and make a new match, gallant and high-born. -And in this I ween she did well.</p> - -<p>I will tell yet another story of this massacre. Another -lady which was there made a widow by the death of -her husband, murdered like the rest, was in such sorrow -and despair thereat, that whenever she did set eyes on -a poor unoffending Catholic, even though he had not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[276]</span> -taken part in the celebration at all, she would either faint -away altogether, or would gaze at him with as much horror -and detestation as though he were the plague. To enter -Paris, nay! to look at it from anywhere in the neighbourhood -within two miles, was not to be thought of, for -neither eyes nor heart could bear the sight. To see it, -say I?—why! she could not bear so much as to hear it -named. At the end of two years, however, she did think -better, and hies her away willingly enough to greet the -good town, and visit the same, and drive to the Palace -in her coach. Yet rather than pass by the Rue de la -Huchette, where her husband had been killed, she would -have thrown herself headlong into fire and destruction -rather than into the said street,—being herein like the -serpent, which according to Pliny, doth so abhor the shade -of the ash as that ’twill rather adventure into the most -blazing fire than under this tree so hateful is it to the -creature.</p> - -<p>In fact, the late King, the then reigning King’s brother, -was used to declare he had never seen a woman so desperate -and haggard at her loss and grief as this lady, -and that ’twould end by their having to bring her down -and hood her, as they do with haggard falcons. But after -some while he found she was prettily enough tamed of her -own accord, in such sort she would suffer herself to be -hooded quite quietly and privily, without any bringing -down but her own will. Then after some while more, what -must she be at but embrace her Paris with open arms and -regard its pleasures with a very favourable eye, parading -hither and thither through its streets, traversing the city -up and down, and measuring its length and breadth this -way and that, without ever a thought of any vow to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[277]</span> -contrary. Mighty surprised was I myself one day, on returning -from a journey, after an absence of eight months -from Court, when after making my bow to the King, I -did suddenly behold this same widow entering the great -Hall of the Louvre, all tricked out and bedecked, accompanied -by her kinswomen and friends, and there appearing -before the King and Queen, the Royal personages and -all the Court, and there receiving the first orders of marriage, -affiancing to wit, at the hands of a Prelate, the -Bishop of Digne, Grand Almoner of the Queen of Navarre. -Who so astonished as I? Yet by what she did tell me -after, she was even more astounded, whenas thinking -me far away, she saw me among the noble company present -at her affiancing, standing there gazing at her and challenging -her with mine eyes. Neither of us could forget -the oaths and affirmations made betwixt us, for I had been -her admirer and suitor for her hand and indeed she -thought I had come thither of set purpose to appear on -the appointed day to be witness against her and judge -of her faithlessness, and condemn her false behaviour. -She told me further, how that she would liever have given -ten thousand crowns of her wealth than that I should -have appeared as I did, and so helped to raise up her -conscience against her.</p> - -<p>I once knew a very great lady, a widowed Countess, of -the highest family, which did the like. For being a -Huguenot of the most rigorous sort, she did agree to a -match with a very honourable Catholic gentleman. But the -sad thing was that before the completion of the marriage, -a pestilential fever that was epidemic at Paris did seize -her so sore as to bring her to her end. In her anguish, -she did give way to many and bitter regrets, crying:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[278]</span> -“Alas! can it be that in a great city like Paris, where all -learning doth abound, never a doctor can be found to -cure me! Nay! let him never stop for money; I will give -him enough and to spare. At any rate ’twere not so bitter, -an if my death had but come after my marriage, and -my husband had learned first how well I loved and honoured -him!” (Sophonisba said differently, for she did repent -her of having wedded before drinking the poison.) -Saying these and other words of like tenour the poor -Countess did turn her to the other side of the bed, and so -died. Truly this is the very fervour of love, so to go about -to remember, in midst of the Stygian passage to oblivion, -the pleasures and fruits of passion she would so fain -have tasted of, before quitting the garden!</p> - -<p>I have heard speak of another lady, which being sick -unto death, overhearing one of her kinsfolk abusing another -(yet are they very worthy folk really), and upbraiding -her with the enormous size of her parts, she did -start a-laughing and cried out, “You pair of fools, you!” -and so turning o’ the other side, she did pass away with -the laugh on her lips.</p> - -<p>Well! an if these Huguenot dames have made such -matches, I have likewise known plenty of Catholic ladies -that have done the same, and wedded Huguenot husbands, -and that after using every hang-dog expression of them -and their religion. If I were to put them all down, I -should never have done. And this is why your widow -should always be prudent, and not make so much noise at -the first beginning of her widowhood, screaming and crying, -making storms of thunder and lightning, with tears -for rain, only afterward to give up her shield of defence -and get well laughed at for her pains. Better far it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[279]</span> -were to say less, and do more. But themselves do say to -this: “Nay! nay! at the first beginning we must needs -steel our hearts like a murderer, and put on a bold front, -resolved to swallow every shame. This doth last a while, -but only a while; then presently, after being chief dish -on the table and most observed of all, we be left alone and -another takes our place.”</p> - -<p>I have read in a little Spanish work how Vittoria -Colonna, daughter of the great Fabrice Colonna, and -wife to the great and famous Marquis de Pescaïre, the -nonpareil of his time, after losing her husband,—and God -alone knoweth how good an one he was,—did fall into such -despair and grief ’twas impossible to give or afford her -any consolation whatever. When any did offer any form -of comfort, old or new, she would answer them: “For -what would you give me consolation?—for my husband -that is dead? Nay! you deceive yourselves; he is not -dead. He is yet alive, I tell you, and stirring within mine -heart. I do feel him, every day and every night, come to -life and move and be born again in me.” Very noble -words indeed these had been, if only after some while, -having taken farewell of him and sent him on his way -over Acheron, she had not married again with the Abbé -de Farfe,—an ill match to the noble Pescaïre. I mean -not in family, for he was of the noble house of the Des -Ursins, the which is as good, and eke as ancient, as that -of Avalos,—or more so. But the merits of the one did far -outweight those of the other, for truly those of Pescaïre -were inestimable, and his valour beyond compare, while the -said Abbé, albeit he gave much proof of his bravery, and -did work very faithfully and doughtily in the service of -King Francis, was yet employed only in small, obscure and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[280]</span> -light emprises, far different from those of the other, -which had wrought great and conspicuous deeds, and won -right famous victories. Moreover the profession of arms -followed by the Marquis, begun and regularly pursued -from his youth up, could not but be finer far than that -of a churchman, which had but late in life taken up the -hardier calling.</p> - -<p>Saying this, I mean not to imply thereby think ill of -any which after being vowed to God and the service of -his Church, have broke the vow and left the profession of -religion for to set hands to weapons of war; else should -I be wronging many and many a great Captain that hath -been a priest first and gone through this experience.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">8.</p> - -<p>Cæsar -<span class="no-wrap">Borgia,<a id="FNanchor_120" href="#Footnote_120" class="fnanchor">[120*]</a></span> -Duc de Valentinois, was -he not first of all a Cardinal, the same -which afterward was so great a Captain that -Machiavelli, the venerable instructor of -Princes and great folk, doth set him down for example -and mirror to all his fellows, to follow after and mould -them on him? Then we have had the famous Maréchal -de Foix, which was first a Churchman and known as the -Protonotary de Foix, but afterward became a great Captain. -The Maréchal Strozzi likewise was first vowed to -holy Church; but for a red hat which was refused him, -did quit the cassock and take to arms. M. de Salvoison, -of whom I have spoke before (which did follow close at -the former’s heels, and was as fit as he to bear the title -of great Captain,—and indeed would have marched side -by side with him, an if he had been of as great a house,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[281]</span> -and kinsman of the Queen), was, by original profession, -a wearer of the long robe; yet what a soldier was he! -Truly he would have been beyond compare, if only he had -lived longer. Then the Maréchal de Bellegarde, did he -not carry the lawyer cap, being long named the Provost -of Ours? The late M. d’Enghien, the same that fell at -the battle of St. Quentin, had been a Bishop; the Chevalier -de Bonnivet the same. Likewise that gallant soldier M. de -Martigues had been of the Church; and, in brief, an host -of others, whose names I cannot spare paper to fill in. I -must say a word too of mine own people, and not without -good cause. Captain Bourdeille, mine own brother, erst -the Rodomont of Piedmont in all ways, was first dedicate -to the Church. But not finding that to be his natural -bent, he did change his cassock for a soldier’s jacket, and -in a turn of the hand did make him one of the best and -most valiant captains in all Piedmont. He would for -sure have become a great and famous man, had he not -died, alas! at only five and twenty years of age.</p> - -<p>In our own day and at our own Court of France, we -have seen many such, and above all our little friend, the -noble Clermont-Tallard, whom I had seen as Abbé of Bon-Port, -but who afterward leaving his Abbey, was seen in -our army and at Court, one of the bravest, most valiant -and worthy men of the time. This he did show right well -by his glorious death at La Rochelle, the very first time -we did enter the fosse of that fortress. I could name -a thousand such, only I should never have done. M. de -<span class="no-wrap">Soleillas,<a id="FNanchor_121" href="#Footnote_121" class="fnanchor">[121]</a></span> -known as the young Oraison, had been Bishop -of Riez and after had a regiment, serving his King right -faithfully and valiantly in Guienne, under the Maréchal -de Matignon.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[282]</span></p> - -<p>In short I should never have done, an if I were for -enumerating all such cases. Wherefore I do stop, both -for brevity’s sake, and also for fear I be reproached for -that I indulge overmuch in digressions. Yet is this one -not inopportune I have made, when speaking of Vittoria -Colonna which did marry the Abbé. An if she had not -married again with him, she had better deserved her name -and title of Vittoria, by being victorious over herself. -Seeing she could not find a second husband to match the -first, she should have refrained her altogether.</p> - -<p>I have known many ladies which have copied her however. -One I knew did marry one of mine uncles, the -most brave, valiant and perfect gentleman of his time. -After his death, she did marry another as much like him -as an ass to a Spanish charger; but ’twas mine uncle -was the Spanish steed. Another lady I knew once, which -had wedded a Marshal of -<span class="no-wrap">France,<a id="FNanchor_122" href="#Footnote_122" class="fnanchor">[122*]</a></span> -a handsome, honourable -gentleman and a valiant; in second wedlock she did take -one in every way his opposite, and one that had been a -Churchman too. What was yet more blameworthy in her -was this, that on going to Court, where she had not appeared -for twenty years, not indeed since her second marriage, -she did re-adopt the name and title of her first -husband. This is a matter our courts of law and parliament -should look into and legislate against; for I have -seen an host of others which have done the like, herein -unduly scorning their later husbands, and showing them -unwilling to bear their name after their death. For having -committed the fault, why! they should drink the cup -to the dregs and feel themselves bound by what they have -done.</p> - -<p>Another widow I once knew, on her husband’s dying,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[283]</span> -did make such sore lamentation and so despairing by the -space of a whole year, that ’twas hourly expected to see -her dead right off. At the end of a year, when she was -to leave off her heavy mourning and take to the lighter, -she said to one of her women: “Prithee, pull me in that -crêpe becomingly; for mayhap I may make another conquest.” -But immediately she did interrupt herself: -“Nay! what am I talking about? I am dreaming. Better -die than have anything more to do with such follies.” -Yet after her mourning was complete, she did marry -again to a husband very unequal to the first. “But,”—and -this is what these women always say,—“he was of as -good family as the other.” Yes! I admit it; but then, -what of virtue and worth? are not these more worth -counting than all else? The best I find in it all is this, -that the match once made, their joy therein is far from -long; for God doth allow them to be properly ill-treated -of their new lords and bullied. Soon you will see them -all repentance,—when it is too late.</p> - -<p>These dames which do thus re-marry have some opinion -or fancy in their heads we wot not of. So have I -heard speak of a Spanish lady, which desiring to marry -again, when they did remonstrate with her, asking what -was to become of the fond love her husband had borne -her, did make answer: <i>La muerte del marido y nuevo -casamiento no han de romper el amor d’una casta muger</i>,—“The -death of husband and a new marriage should in no -wise break up the love of a good woman.” Well! so much -shall be granted, an if you please. Another Spanish -dame said better, when they were for marrying her again: -<i>Si hallo un marido bueno, no quiero tener el temor de -perderlo; y si malo, que necessidad he del</i>,—“An if I find<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[284]</span> -a good husband, I wish not to be exposed to the fear of -losing him; but if a bad, what need to have one at all?”</p> - -<p>Valeria, a Roman lady, having lost her husband, whenas -some of her companions were condoling with her on his -loss and death, said thus to them: “’Tis too true he is -dead for you all, but he liveth in me for ever.” The fair -Marquise I have spoke of a little above, had borrowed -a like phrase from her. These expressions of these noble -ladies do differ much from what a Spanish ill-wisher of -the sex declared, to wit: <i>que la jornada de la biudez d’ -una muger es d’un dia</i>,—“that the day of a woman’s -widowhood is one day long.” A lady I must now tell of -did much worse. This was Madame de Moneins, whose -husband was King’s lieutenant, and was massacred at Bordeaux, -by the common folk in a salt-excise riot. So soon -as ever news was brought her that her husband had been -killed and had met the fate he did, she did straight cry -out: “Alas! my diamond, what hath become of it?” This -she had given him by way of marriage present, being -worth ten to twelve hundred crowns of the money of the -day, and he was used to wear it always on his finger. By -this exclamation she did let folk plainly see which grief -she did bear the more hardly, the loss of her husband or -that of the diamond.</p> - -<p>Madame d’Estampes was a high favourite with King -Francis, and for that cause little loved of her husband. -Once when some widow or other came to her asking her -pity for her widowed state, “Why! dear heart,” said she, -“you are only too happy in your condition, for I tell you, -one cannot be a widow by wishing for’t,”—as if implying -she would love to be one. Some women be so situate, -others not.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[285]</span></p> - -<p>But what are we to say of widows which do keep their -marriage hid, and will not have it published? One such I -knew, which did keep hers under press for more than seven -or eight years, without ever consenting to get it printed -and put in circulation. ’Twas said she did so out of terror -of her -<span class="no-wrap">son,<a id="FNanchor_123" href="#Footnote_123" class="fnanchor">[123*]</a></span> -as yet only a youth, but afterward one of -the bravest and most honourable men in all the world, -lest he should play the deuce with her and her man, albeit -he was of very high rank. But so soon as ever her son -fell in a warlike engagement, dying so as to win a crown -of glory, she did at once have her marriage printed off -and published abroad.</p> - -<p>I have heard of another widow, a great lady, which -was married to a very great nobleman and Prince, more -than fifteen years agone. Yet doth the world know nor -hear aught thereof, so secret and discreet is it kept. Report -saith the Prince was afeared of his mother-in-law, -which was very imperious with him, and was most unwilling -he should marry again because of his young children.</p> - -<p>I knew another very great lady, which died but a short -while agone, having been married to a simple gentleman -for more than twenty years, without its being known at -all, except by mere gossip and hearsay. Ho! but there -be some queer cases of the sort!</p> - -<p>I have heard it stated by a lady of a great and ancient -house, how that the late Cardinal du Bellay was wedded, -being then Bishop and Cardinal, to Madame de Chastillon, -and did die a married man. This she did declare in a -conversation she held with M. de Mane, a Provençal, of -the house of Senjal and Bishop of Fréjus, which had -served the said Cardinal for fifteen years at the Court of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[286]</span> -Rome, and had been one of his privy protonotaries. -Well! happening to speak of the Cardinal, she did ask -M. de Mane if he had ever told him or confessed to him -that he was married. Who so astounded as M. de Mane -at such a question? He is yet alive and can contradict -me, if I lie; for I was present. He made answer he had -never heard him speak of it, either to him or to others. -“Well, then! I am the first to tell you,” she replied; “for -nothing is more true than that he was so married; and he -died actually the husband of the said Madame de Chastillon, -before a widow.” I can assure you I had a fine -laugh, seeing the astonished face of poor M. de Mane, -who was a very careful and religious man, and thought -he knew every secret of his late master; but he was out -of court for this one. And indeed ’twas a scandalous -license on the Cardinal’s part, considering the sacred office -he held.</p> - -<p>This Madame de Chastillon was the widow of the late -M. de Chastillon, the same which was said to chiefly govern -the young King Charles VIII. along with Bourdillon, -Galiot and Bonneval, the guardians of the blood royal. -He died at Ferrara, having been wounded at the siege -of Ravenna, and carried thither to be healed. She became -a widow when very young, being both fair and also -wise and virtuous,—albeit but in appearance, as witness -this marriage of hers,—and so was chosen maid of honour -to the late Queen of Navarre. She it was that did tender -the excellent advice to this noble lady and great Princess, -which is writ in the <i>Cent Nouvelles</i> of the said Queen. -The tale is of her and a certain gentleman which had -slipped by night into her bed by a little trap-door in the -wainscot beside her bed, and was fain to enjoy the reward<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[287]</span> -of his address; yet did win naught but some fine scratches -on his pretty face. The Queen being purposed to make -complaint of the matter to her brother, he did remonstrate -with her very judiciously, as may be read in the -<i>Nouvelle</i> or Tale in question, and did give her the excellent -advice referred to, as good and judicious and as -well adapted to avoid scandal as could possibly be devised. -Indeed it might have been a First President of the Parliament -of Paris that gave the advice, which did show -plainly, however, the lady to be no less skilled and experienced -in such mysteries than wise and judicious; wherefore -there can be little doubt she did keep her affair with -the Cardinal right well hidden.</p> - -<p>My grandmother, the Séneschale de Poitou, had her -place after her death, by choice of King Francis himself, -which did name and elect her to the post, sending all -the way to her home to summon her. Then he did give -her over with his own hand to the Queen his sister, forasmuch -as he knew her to be a very prudent and very virtuous -lady,—indeed he was used to call her <i>my knight -without reproach</i>,—albeit not so experienced, adroit and -cunning in suchlike matters as her predecessor, nor one -that had contracted a second marriage under the rose. -But an if you would know who are intended in the Tale, -’twas writ of the Queen of Navarre herself and the Admiral -de Bonnivet, as I have been assured by my grandmother. -Yet doth it appear to me the Queen need never -have been at pains to conceal her name, seeing the other -could get no hold over her virtue, but did leave her all in -confusion. Indeed she was only too wishful to make the -facts public, had it not been for the good and wise advice -given her by that same maid of honour, Madame de Chastillon.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[288]</span> -Anyone that hath read the Tale will find it as I -have represented it. And I do believe that the Cardinal, -her husband as aforesaid, which was one of the cleverest -and wisest, most eloquent, learned and well-advised men -of his day, had instilled this discreetness in her mind, to -make her speak so well and give such excellent counsel. -The tale might mayhap be thought somewhat over scandalous -by some in view of the sacred and priestly profession -of the Cardinal; but, an if any be fain to repeat the -same, well! he must e’en suppress the name.</p> - -<p>Well! if this marriage was kept secret, ’twas by no -means so with that of the last Cardinal de -<span class="no-wrap">Chastillon.<a id="FNanchor_124" href="#Footnote_124" class="fnanchor">[124*]</a></span> -For indeed he did divulge and make it public quite enough -himself, without need to borrow any trumpet; and did -die a married man, without ever having quitted his gown -and red hat. On the one hand he did excuse himself -by alleging the reformed faith, whereof he was a firm -adherent; on the other by the contention that he was -desirous of still retaining his rank and not giving up the -same (a thing he would most surely never have done in -any case), so as he might continue of the council, whereof -being a member he could well serve his faith and party. -For ’tis very true he was a most able, influential and very -powerful personage.</p> - -<p>I do imagine the aforenamed noble Cardinal du Bellay -may have done the like for like reasons. For at that -time he was no little inclined to the faith and doctrine of -Luther, and indeed the Court of France generally was -somewhat affected by the taint. The fact is, all novelties -be pleasing at first, and beside, the said doctrine -did open an agreeable license to all men, and especially -to ecclesiastics, to enter the married state.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[289]</span></p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">9.</p> - -<p>However let us say no more of these dignified -folk, in view of the deep respect we do owe -their order and holy rank. We must now -something put through their paces those old -widows we wot of that have not six teeth left in their -chops, and yet do marry again. ’Tis no long while -agone that a lady of Guienne, already widowed of three -husbands, did marry for a fourth a gentleman of some -position in that province, she being then eighty. I know -not why she did it, seeing she was very rich and had -crowns in plenty,—indeed ’twas for this the gentleman -did run after her,—unless it were that she was fain not -to surrender just yet, but to win more amorous laurels -to add to her old ones, as Mademoiselle Sevin, the Queen -of Navarre’s jester, was used to say.</p> - -<p>Another great lady I knew, which did remarry at the -age of seventy-six, wedding a gentleman of a lower rank -than her previous husband, and did live to an hundred. -Yet did she continue beautiful to the last, having been -one of the finest women of her time, and one that had -gotten every sort of delight out of her young body, both -as wife and widow, so ’twas said.</p> - -<p>Truly a formidable pair of women, and of a right hot -complexion! And indeed I have heard experienced bakers -declare how that an old oven is far easier to heat than a -new one, and when once heated, doth better keep its heat -and make better bread.</p> - -<p>I wot not what savoury appetites they be which do stir<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[290]</span> -husbands and lovers to prefer these hot-loaf dainties; but -I have seen many gallant and brave gentlemen no less -eager in love, nay! more eager, for old women than for -young. They tell me ’twas to get worldly profit of them; -but some I have seen also, which did love such with most -ardent passion, without winning aught from their purse -at all, except that of their person. So have we all seen -erstwhile a very great and sovran -<span class="no-wrap">Prince,<a id="FNanchor_125" href="#Footnote_125" class="fnanchor">[125]</a></span> -which did so -ardently love a great dame, a widow and advanced in -years, that he did desert his wife and all other women, no -matter how young and lovely, for to sleep with her only. -Yet herein was he well advised, seeing she was one of the -fairest and most delightsome women could ever be seen, -and for sure her winter was better worth than the springtide, -summer and autumn of the rest. Men which have -had dealings with the courtesans of Italy have seen, and -do still see, not a few cases where lovers do choose the -most famous and long experienced in preference, and those -that have most shaken their skirts, hoping with them to -find something more alluring in body or in wit. And -this is why the beauteous Cleopatra, being summoned of -Mark Antony to come see him, was moved with no apprehension, -being well assured that, inasmuch as she had -known how to captivate Julius Cæsar and Gnæus Pompeius, -the son of Pompey the Great, when she was yet -but a slip of a girl, and knew not thoroughly the ways -and wiles of her trade, she could manage better still her -new lover, a very fleshly and coarse soldier of a man, now -that she was in the full fruition of her experience and -ripe age. Nor did she fail. In fact, the truth is that, -while youth is most meet to attract the love of some men, -with others ’tis maturity, a sufficient age, a practised wit,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[291]</span> -a long experience, a well-hung tongue and a well trained -hand, that do best serve to seduce them.</p> - -<p>There is one doubtful point as to which I did one time -ask doctors’ opinion,—a question suggested by one who -asked why his health was not better, seeing all his life -long he had never known nor touched old women, according -to the physicians’ aphorism which saith: <i>vetulam non -cognovi</i>, “I have known never an old woman.” Among -many other quaint matters, be sure of this,—these doctors -did tell me an old proverb which saith: “In an old -barn is fine threshing, but an old flail is good for naught.” -Others say: “Never mind how old a beast be, so it will -bear.” I was told moreover that in their practice they -had known old women which were so ardent and hot-blooded, -that cohabiting with a young man, they do draw -all ever they can from him, taking whatever he hath of -substance, the better to moisten their own drouth; I speak -of such as by reason of age be dried up and lack proper -humours. The same medical authorities did give me other -reasons to boot; but an if readers be still curious, I leave -them to ask further for themselves.</p> - -<p>I have seen an aged widow, and a great lady too, which -did put under her tooth in less than four years a third -husband and a young nobleman she had taken for lover; -and did send the pair of them under the sod, not by violence -or poison, but by mere enfeeblement and distillation of -their substance. Yet to look at this lady, none had ever -supposed her capable of aught of the sort; for indeed, -before folk she did rather play the prude and poor-spirited -hypocrite, actually refusing to change her shift in -presence of her women for fear of their seeing her naked. -But as one of her kinswomen declared, these objections<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[292]</span> -were all for her women, not for her lovers and admirers.</p> - -<p>But come, what is the difference in merit and repute -betwixt a woman which hath had several husbands in her -life,—and there be plenty that have had as many as three, -four or even five, and another which in her life shall have -had but her husband and a lover, or two or three,—and -I have actually known some women continent and faithful -to that degree? As to this, I have heard a noble lady -of the great world say she found naught to choose betwixt -a lady who had had several husbands, and one that had -had but a lover or so, along with her husband,—unless -it be that the marriage veil doth cover a multitude of -sins. But in point of sensuality and naughtiness, she said -there was not a doit of difference. Herein do they but -illustrate the Spanish proverb, which saith that <i>algunas -mugeres son de natura de anguilas en retener, y de lobas -en excoger</i>,—“some women are like eels to hold, and she-wolves -to choose,” for that the eel is mighty slippery and -ill to hold, and the she-wolf doth alway choose the ugliest -wolf for mate.</p> - -<p>It befell me once at Court, as I have described elsewhere, -that a lady of a sufficiently exalted rank, which -had been four times married, did happen to tell me she -had just been dining with her brother-in-law, and I must -guess who ’twas. This she said quite simply, without any -thought of roguishness; and I answered with a touch of -waggery, yet laughing the while: “Am I a diviner to guess -such a riddle? You have been married four times: I -leave to the imagination how many brothers-in-law you -may have.” To this she retorted: “Nay! but you speak -knavishly,” and named me the particular brother-in-law.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[293]</span> -“Now you do talk sense,” I said then; “before you were -talking all at large.”</p> - -<p>There was in old days at -<span class="no-wrap">Rome<a id="FNanchor_126" href="#Footnote_126" class="fnanchor">[126]</a></span> -a lady which had had -two and twenty husbands one after other, and similarly a -man which had had one and twenty wives. The pair did -hereupon bethink them to make a suitable match by remarrying -once more to each other. Eventually the husband -did outlive the wife; and was so highly honoured and -esteemed at Rome of all the people for this his noble -victory, that like a successful General, he was promenaded -up and down in a triumphal car, crowned with -laurel and palm in hand. A splendid victory truly, and -a well deserved triumph!</p> - -<p>In the days of King Henri II., there was at his Court -a certain Seigneur de Barbazan, Saint-Amand by surname, -which did marry thrice—three wives one after -other. His third was daughter of Madame de Monchy, -governess to the Duchesse de Lorraine, who more doughty -than the other two, did quite surpass them, for he died -under her. Now whenas folk were mourning his loss at -Court, and she in like wise was inordinately afflicted at -her bereavement, M. de Montpezat, a very witty man, did -rebuke all this demonstration, saying: that instead of -compassionating her, they should commend and extol her -to the skies for the victory she had gotten over her man, -who was said to have been so vigorous a wight and so -strong and well provided that he had killed his two first -wives by dint of doing his devoir on them. But this lady, -for that she had not succumbed in the contest but had -remained victorious, should be highly praised and admired -of all the Court for so glorious a success,—a victory won -over so valiant and robust a champion; and that for the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[294]</span> -same cause herself had every reason to be proud. What -a victory, and what a source of pride, pardy!</p> - -<p>I have heard the same doctrine cited a little above -maintained also by a great nobleman of France, who said: -that he did find no difference ’twixt a woman that had had -four or five husbands, as some have had, and a whore -which hath had three or four lovers one after other. -Similarly a gallant gentleman I wot of, having wedded -a wife that had been three times married already, one -I also know by name, a man of ready tongue and wit, -did exclaim: “He hath married at last a whore from the -brothel of good name.” I’faith, women which do thus -marry again and again be like grasping surgeons, that -will not at once bind up the wounds of a poor wounded -man, so as to prolong the cure and the better to be gaining -all the while their bits of fees. Nay! one dame of this -sort was used actually to say outright: “’Tis a poor -thing to stop dead in the very middle of one’s career; one -is bound to finish, and go on to the end!”</p> - -<p>I do wonder that these women which be so hot and -keen to marry again, and at the same time so stricken -in years, do not for their credit’s sake make some use of -cooling remedies and antiphlogistic potions, so as to drive -out all these heated humours. Yet so far be they from -any wish to use the like, as that they do employ the very -opposite treatment, declaring suchlike cooling boluses -would ruin their stomach. I have seen and read a little -old-fashioned tract in Italian, but a silly book withal, -which did undertake to give recipes against lasciviousness, -and cited some two and thirty. But these be all so silly -I recommend not women to use them, nor to submit themselves -to any such annoying regimen. And so I have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[295]</span> -not thought good to copy them in here. Pliny doth -adduce one, which in former days the Vestal virgins were -used to employ; the Athenian dames did resort to the -same remedy during the festivals of the goddess Ceres, -known as the <i>Thesmophoria</i>, to cool their humours thereby -and take away all hot appetite of concupiscence. ’Twas -to sleep on mattresses of the leaves of a tree called the -<i>agnus castus</i>. But be sure, an if during the feast they -did mortify themselves in this wise, after the same was -over, they did very soon pitch their mattresses to the -winds.</p> - -<p>I have seen a tree of the sort at a house in Guienne -belonging to a very high-born, honourable and beautiful -lady. She would oft times show the tree to strangers -which came thither as a great rarity, and tell them its -peculiar property. But devil take me if ever I have seen -or heard tell of woman or dame that hath sent to gather -one single branch, or made the smallest scrap of mattress -from its leaves. Certainly not the lady that owned the -said tree, who might have made what use she pleased -thereof. Truly, it had been a pity an if she had, and her -husband had not been best pleased; for so fair and charming -a dame was she, ’twas only right nature should be -allowed her way, and she hath borne to boot a noble line -of offspring.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[296]</span></p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">10.</p> - -<p>And to speak truth, suchlike harsh, chill medicines -should be left to poor nuns and prescribed -to them only, which for all their fasting -and mortifying of the flesh, be oft times -sore assailed, poor creatures, with temptations of the -flesh. An if only they had their freedom, they would be -ready enough, at least some would, to take like refreshment -with their more worldly sisters, and not seldom do -they repent them of their repentance. This is seen with -the Roman courtesans, as to one of whom I must tell a -diverting tale. She was vowed to take the veil, but before -her going finally to the nunnery, a former lover of hers, -a gentleman of France, doth come to bid her farewell, -ere she entered the cloister forever. But before leaving -her, he did ask one more gratification of his passion, and -she did grant the same, with these words: <i>Fate dunque -presto; ch’ adesso mi veranno cercar per far mi monaca, -e menare al monasterio</i>,—“Do it quick then, for they be -coming directly to make me a nun and carry me off to -cloister.” We must suppose she was fain to do it this -once as a final treat, and say with the Roman poet: -<i>Tandem hæc olim meminisse juvabit</i>,—“’Twill be good -to remember in future days this last delight.” A strange -repentance insooth and a quaint novitiate! But truly -when once they be professed, at any rate the good-looking -ones, (though of course there be exceptions), I do believe -they live more on the bitter herb of repentance than any -other bodily or spiritual sustenance.</p> - -<p>Some however there be which do contrive a remedy for -this state of things, whether by dispensation or by sheer<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[297]</span> -license they do take for themselves. For in our lands -they have no such dire treatment to fear as the Romans -in old days did mete out to their Vestal virgins which -had gone astray. This was verily hateful and abominable -in its cruelty; but then they were pagans and abounding -in horrors and cruelties. On the contrary we Christians, -which do follow after the gentleness of our Lord Christ, -should be tender-hearted as he was, and forgiving as he -was forgiving. I would describe here in writing the fashion -of their punishment; but for very horror my pen -doth refuse to indite the same.</p> - -<p>Let us now leave these poor recluses, which I do verily -believe, once they be shut up in their nunneries, do endure -no small hardship. So a Spanish lady one time, seeing -them setting to the religious life a very fair and honourable -damsel, did thus exclaim: <i>O tristezilla, y en que -pecasteis, que tan presto vienes à penitencia, y seis metida -en sepultura viva!</i>—“Poor creature, what so mighty sin -have you done, that you be so soon brought to penitence -and thus buried alive!” And seeing the nuns offering her -every complaisance, compliment and welcome, she said: -<i>que todo le hedia, hasta el encienso de la yglesia</i>,—“that -it all stank in her nostrils, to the very incense in the -church.”</p> - -<p>Now as to these vows of virginity, Heliogabalus did -promulgate a law to the effect that no Roman maid, -not even a Vestal virgin, was bound to perpetual virginity, -saying how that the female sex was over weak -for women to be bound to a pact they could never be -sure of keeping. And for this reason they that have -founded hospitals for the nourishing, rescuing and marrying -poor girls, have done a very charitable work, no less<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[298]</span> -to enable these to taste the sweet fruit of marriage than -to turn them from naughtiness. So Panurge in Rabelais, -did give much wealth of his to make such marriages, and -especially in the case of old and ugly women, for with -such was need of more expenditure of money than for the -pretty ones.</p> - -<p>One question there is I would fain have resolved in all -sincerity and without concealment of any kind by some -good lady that hath made the journey,—to wit, when -women be married a second time, how they be affected -toward the memory of their first husband. ’Tis a general -maxim hereanent, that later friendships and enmities do -always make the earlier ones forgot; in like wise will a -second marriage bury the thought of the first. As to -this I will now give a diverting example, though from an -humble source,—not that it should therefore be void of -authority and to be rejected, if it be as they say, that -albeit in an obscure and common quarter, yet may wisdom -and good intelligence be hid there. A great lady of Poitou -one day asking a peasant woman, a tenant of hers, -how many husbands she had had, and how she found -them, the latter, bobbing her little country curtsey, did -coolly answer: “I’ll tell you, Madam; I’ve had two husbands, -praise the Lord! One was called Guillaume, he -was the first; and the second was called Collas. Guillaume -was a good man, easy in his circumstances, and did -treat me very well; but there, God have good mercy on -Collas’ soul, for Collas did his duty right well by me.” -But she did actually say the word straight out without -any glozing or disguise such as I have thrown over it. -Prithee, consider how the naughty wench did pray God -for the dead man which was so good a mate and so lusty,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[299]</span> -and for what benefit, to wit that he had covered her so -doughtily; but of the first, never a word of the sort. I -should suppose many dames that do wed a second time -and a third do the same; for after all this is their chiefest -reason for marrying again, and he that doth play this -game the best, is best loved. Indeed they do always -imagine the second husband must need be a fierce performer,—though -very oft they be sore deceived, not finding -in the shop the goods they did there think to find. Or -else, if there be some provision, ’tis oft so puny, wasted -and worn, so slack, battered, drooping and dilapidated, -they do repent them ever they invested their money in the -bargain. Of this myself have seen many examples, that -I had rather not adduce.</p> - -<p>We read in Plutarch how Cleomenes, having wedded the -fair Agiatis, wife of Agis, after the death of the latter, -did grow fondly enamoured of the same by reason of her -surpassing beauty. He did not fail to note the great -sadness she lay under for her first husband’s loss; and -felt so great compassion for her, as that he made no -grievance of the love she still bare her former husband, -and the affectionate memory she did cherish of him. In -fact, himself would often turn the discourse to her earlier -life, asking her facts and details as to the pleasures that -had erstwhile passed betwixt them twain. He had her not -for long however, for she soon died, to his extreme sorrow. -’Tis a thing not a few worthy husbands do in the -case of fair widows they have married.</p> - -<p>But ’tis time now surely, methinks, to be making an -end, if ever end is to be made.</p> - -<p>Other ladies there be which declare they do much better -love their second husbands than their first. “For as to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[300]</span> -our first husbands,” some of these have told me, “these -we do more often than not take at the orders of our -King or the Queen our mistress, or at the command of -our fathers, mothers, kinsmen, or guardians, not by our -own unbiased wish. On the other hand, once widowed -and thus free and emancipated, we do exercise such choice -as seemeth us good, and take new mates solely for our -own good will and pleasure, for delight of love and the -satisfaction of our heart’s desire.” Of a surety there -would seem to be good reason here, were it not that very -oft, as the old-time proverb saith,—“Love that begins -with a ring, oft ends with a halter.” So every day do -we see instances and examples where women thinking to -be well treated of their husbands, the which they have in -some cases rescued from justice and the gibbet, from -poverty and misery and the hangman, and saved alive, -have been sore beaten, bullied, cruelly entreated and often -done to death of the same,—a just punishment of heaven -for their base ingratitude toward their former husbands, -that were only too good to them, and of whom they had -never a good word to say.</p> - -<p>These were in no way like one I have heard tell of, -who the first night of her marriage, when now her husband -was beginning his assault, did start sobbing and -sighing very sore, so that at one and the same time she -was in two quite opposite states, cold and hot, winter and -summer, both at once. Her husband asking her what -cause she had to be so sad, and if he were not doing his -devoir well, “Alas! too well, good sir!” she made answer; -“but I am thinking of mine other husband, which did so -earnestly pray me again and again never to marry afresh -after his death, but to bear in mind and have compassion<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[301]</span> -on his young children. Alackaday! I see plainly I -shall have the like ado with you. Woe’s me! what <i>shall</i> -I do? I do think, an if he can see me from the place he -now is in, he will be cursing me finely.” What an idea, -never to have thought on this afore, nor to have felt remorse -but when ’twas all too late! But the husband did -soon appease her, and expel this fancy by the best method -possible; then next morning throwing wide the chamber -window, he did cast forth all memory of the former husband. -For is there not an old proverb which saith, “A -woman that burieth one husband, will think little of burying -another,” and another, “There’s more grimace than -grief, when a woman loseth her husband.”</p> - -<p>I knew another widow, a great lady, which was quite -the opposite of the last, and did not weep one whit the -first night. For then, and the second to boot, she did -go so lustily to work with her second husband as that -they did break down and burst the bedstead, and this -albeit she had a kind of cancer on one breast. Yet notwithstanding -her affliction, she did miss never a point of -amorous delight; and often afterward would divert him -with tales of the folly and ineptitude of her former mate. -And truly, by what I have heard sundry of either sex -tell me, the very last thing a second husband doth desire -of his wife is to be entertained with the merits and worth -of her first, as though jealous of the poor departed wight, -who would like naught so well as to return to earth -again; but as for abuse of him, as much of that as ever -you please! Natheless there be not a few that will ask -their wives about their former lords, as did Cleomenes; -but this they do, as feeling themselves to be strong and -vigorous; and so delighting to institute comparisons, do<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[302]</span> -cross-question them concerning the other’s sturdiness and -vigour in these sweet encounters. In like wise have I -heard of some which to put their bedfellows in better case, -do lead them to think their former mates were prentice -hands compared with them, a device that doth oft times -answer their purpose well. Others again will say just -the opposite, and declare their first husbands were perfect -giants, so as to spur on their new mates to work -like very pack mules.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">11.</p> - -<p>Widows of the sort just described would be in -good case in the island of -<span class="no-wrap">Chios,<a id="FNanchor_127" href="#Footnote_127" class="fnanchor">[127*]</a></span> -the fairest, -sweetest and most pleasant of the Levant, -formerly possessed by the Genoese, but now -for five and thirty years usurped by the Turks,—a crying -shame and loss for Christendom. Now in this isle, as I -am informed of sundry Genoese traders, ’tis the custom -that every woman desiring to continue a widow, without -any intent to marry again, is constrained to pay to the -Seigneurie of the island a certain fixed sum of money, -which they call <i>argomoniatiquo</i>, which is the same as saying -(with all respect to the ladies), <i>an idle spot is useless</i>. -So likewise at Sparta, as Plutarch saith in his <i>Life of -Lysander</i>, was a fine established by law against such as -would not marry, or did marry over late, or ill. To return -to Scio (Chios), I have enquired of certain natives -of that island, what might be the aim and object of the -said custom, which told me ’twas to the end the isle might -always be well peopled. I can vouch for this, that our -land of France will surely never be left desert or infertile<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">[303]</span> -by fault of our widows’ not marrying again; for I ween -there be more which do re-marry than not, and will pay -never a doit of tribute for idle and useless females. And -if not by marriage, at any rate in other ways, these -Chiotes do make that same organ work and fructify, as -I will presently show. ’Tis well too for our maids of -France they need not to pay the tax their sisters of Chios -be liable to; for these, whether in country or town, if -they do come to lose their maidenhead before marriage, -and be fain after to continue the trade, be bound to pay -once for all a ducat (and surely ’tis a good bargain to -compound for all their life after at this price) to the -Captain of the Night Watch, so as they may pursue their -business as they please, without let or hindrance. And -herein doth lie the chiefest and most certain profit this -worthy Captain doth come by in his office.</p> - -<p>These dames and damsels of this Isle be much different -from those of olden days in the same land, which, by -what Plutarch saith in his <i>Opuscula</i>, were so chaste for -seven hundred years, that never a case was remembered -where a married woman had done adultery, or a maid -had been deflowered unwed. A miracle! ’twill be said, a -mythic tale worthy of old Homer! At any rate be sure -they be much other nowadays!</p> - -<p>Never was a time when the Greeks had not always some -device or other making for wantonness. So in old times -we read of a custom in the isle of Cyprus, which ’tis said -the kindly goddess Venus, the patroness of that land, did -introduce. This was that the maids of that island should -go forth and wander along the banks, shores and cliffs -of the sea, for to earn their marriage portions by the -generous giving of their bodies to mariners, sailors and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[304]</span> -seafarers along that coast. These would put in to shore -on purpose, very often indeed turning aside from their -straight course by compass to land there; and so taking -their pleasant refreshment with them, would pay handsomely, -and presently hie them away again to sea, for -their part only too sorry to leave such good entertainment -behind. Thus would these fair maids win their -marriage dowers, some more, some less, some high, some -low, some grand, some lowly, according to the beauty, -gifts and carnal attractions of each damsel.</p> - -<p>Nowadays ’tis different. No maids in any Christian -nation do thus go wandering forth, to expose them to -wind and rain, cold and heat, sun and moon, and so win -their dower, for that the task is too laborious for their -delicate and tender skins and white complexions. Rather -do they have their lovers come to them under rich pavilions -and gorgeous hangings, and do there draw their -amorous profit from their paramours, without ever a -tax to pay. I speak not now of the courtesans of Rome, -who do pay tax, but of women of higher place than -they. In fact for the most part for such damsels their -fathers, mothers and brothers, be not at much pains to -gather money for their portion on marriage; but on the -contrary many of them be found able to give handsomely -to their kinsfolk, and advance the same in goods and -offices, ranks and dignities, as myself have seen in many -instances.</p> - -<p>For this cause did Lycurgus ordain in his Laws that -virgins should be wedded without money dowry, to the -end men might marry them for their merits, and not from -greed. But, what kind of virtue was it? Why! on their -solemn feast-days the Spartan maids were used to sing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[305]</span> -and dance in public stark naked with the lads, and even -wrestle in the open market-place,—the which however was -done in all honesty and good faith, so History saith. But -what sort of honesty and purity was this, we may well -ask, to look on at these pretty maids so performing publicly? -Honesty was it never a whit, but pleasure in the -sight of them, and especially of their bodily movements -and dancing postures, and above all in their wrestling; -and chiefest of all when they came to fall one atop of the -other, as they say in Latin, <i>illa sub, ille super</i>; <i>ille sub et -illa super</i>,—“she underneath, he atop; he underneath, she -atop.” You will never persuade me, ’twas all honesty -and purity herein with these Spartan maidens. I ween -there is never chastity so chaste that would not have been -shaken thereby, or that, so making in public and by day -these feint assaults, they did not presently in privity and -by night and on assignation proceed to greater combats -and night-attacks. And no doubt all this might well be -done, seeing how the said Lycurgus did suffer such men -as were handsome and well grown to borrow other citizens’ -wives to sow seed therein as in a good and fruitful -soil. So was it in no wise blameworthy for an old outwearied -husband to lend his young and beautiful wife to -some gallant youth he did choose therefor. Nay! the -lawgiver did pronounce it permissible for the wife herself -to choose for to help her procreation the next kinsman -of her husband, then an if he pleased her fancy, to -couple with him, to the end the children they might engender -should at least be of the blood and race of the -husband. Indeed there is some sense in the practice, and -had not the Jews likewise the same law of license betwixt -sister-in-law and brother-in-law? On the other hand our<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">[306]</span> -Christian law hath reformed all this, albeit our Holy -Father hath in divers cases granted dispensations founded -on divers reasons. In Spain ’tis a practice much adopted, -but never without dispensation.</p> - -<p>Well! to say something more, and as soberly as we may, -of some other sorts of widows,—and then an end.</p> - -<p>One sort there is, widows which do absolutely refuse -to marry again, hating wedlock like the plague. So one, -a lady of a great house and a witty woman withal, when -that I asked her if she were not minded to make her vow -once again to the god Hymen, did reply: “Tell me this, -by’r lady; suppose a galley-slave or captive to have tugged -years long at the oar, tied to the chain, and at last -to have got back his freedom, would he not be a fool and -a very imbecile, an if he did not hie him away with a good -heart, determined never more to be subject to the orders -of a savage corsair? So I, after being in slavery to an -husband, an if I should take a fresh master, what should -I deserve to get, prithee, since without resorting to that -extreme, and with no risk at all, I can have the best of -good times?” Another great lady, and a kinswoman of -mine own, on my asking her if she had no wish to wed -again, replied: “Never a bit, coz, but only to bed again,” -playing on the words <i>wed</i> and <i>bed</i>, and signifying she -would be glad enough to give herself some treat, but -without intervention of any second husband,—according -to the old proverb which saith, “A safer fling unwed than -wed.” Another saying hath it, that women be always -good hostesses, in love as elsewhere; and a right saying -’tis, for they be mistresses of the situation, and queens -wherever they be,—that is the pretty ones be so.</p> - -<p>I have heard tell of another, which was asked of a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">[307]</span> -gentleman which was fain to try his ground as a suitor -for her hand, an if she would not like an husband. “Nay! -sir,” she answered, “never talk to me of an husband, I’ll -have no more of them; but for a lover, I’m not so sure.”—“Then, -Madame, prithee, let me be that lover, since husband -I may not be.” Her reply was, “Court me well, -and persevere; mayhap you will succeed.”</p> - -<p>A fair and honourable widow lady, of some thirty summers, -one day wishing to break a jest with an honourable -gentleman, or to tell truth, to provoke him to love-making, -and having as she was about to mount her horse caught -the front of her mantle on something and torn it somewhat -in detaching it, taking it up said to him: “Look -you, what you have done, so and so” (accosting him by -his name); “you have ripped my front.”</p> - -<p>“I should be right sorry to hurt it, Madam; ’tis too -sweet and pretty for that.”</p> - -<p>“Why! what know you of it?” she replied; “you have -never seen it.”</p> - -<p>“What! can you deny,” retorted the other, “that I -have seen it an hundred times over, when you were a little -lassie?”</p> - -<p>“Ah! but,” said she, “I was then but a stripling, and -knew not yet what was what.”</p> - -<p>“Still, I suppose ’tis yet in the same place as of old, -and hath not changed position. I ween I could even now -find it in the same spot.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes! ’tis there still, albeit mine husband hath -rolled it and turned it about, more than ever did Diogenes -with his tub.”</p> - -<p>“Yes! and nowadays how doth it do without movement?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">[308]</span></p> - -<p>“’Tis for all the world like a clock that is left unwound.”</p> - -<p>“Then take you heed, lest that befall you that doth -happen to clocks when they be not wound up, and continue -so for long; their springs do rust by lapse of time, and -they be good for naught after.”</p> - -<p>“’Tis not a fair comparison,” said she, “for that the -springs of the clock you mean be not liable to rust at -all, but keep in good order, wound or unwound, always -ready to be set a-going at any time.”</p> - -<p>“Please God,” cried the gentleman, “whenas the time -for winding come, I might be the watchmaker to wind it -up!”</p> - -<p>“Well, well!” returned the lady, “when that day and -festive hour shall arrive, we will not be idle, but will do -a right good day’s work. So God guard from ill him I -love not as well as you.”</p> - -<p>After this keen and heart pricking interchange of wit, -the lady did mount her horse, after kissing the gentleman -with much good-will, adding as she rode away, “Goodbye, -till we meet again, and enjoy our little treat!”</p> - -<p>But alas! as ill fate would have it, the fair lady did -die within six weeks whereat her lover did well nigh die of -chagrin. For these enticing words, with others she had -said afore, had so heartened him with good hope that he -was assured of her conquest, as indeed she was ready -enough to be his. A malison on her untimely end, for -verily she was one of the best and fairest dames you could -see anywhere, and well worth a venial fault to possess,—or -even a mortal sin!</p> - -<p>Another fair young widow was asked by an honourable -gentleman if she did keep Lent, and abstain from eating<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">[309]</span> -meat, as folks do then. “No!” she said, “I do not.”—“So -I have observed,” returned the gentleman; “I have noted -you made no scruple, but did eat meat at that season -just as at any other, both raw and cooked.”—“That was -at the time mine husband was alive; now I am a widow, -I have reformed and regulated my living more seemly.”—“Nay! -beware,” then said the other, “of fasting so strictly, -for it doth readily happen to such as go fasting and anhungered, -that anon, when the desire of meat cometh on -them, they do find their vessels so narrow and contracted, -as that they do thereby suffer much incommodity.”—“Nay! -that vessel of my body,” said the lady, “that you -mean, is by no means so narrow or hunger-pinched, but -that, when mine appetite shall revive, I may not afford -it good and sufficient refreshment.”</p> - -<p>I knew another great lady, which all through her unmarried -and married life was in all men’s mouths by -reason of her exceeding stoutness. Afterward she came -to lose her husband, and did mourn him with so extreme -a sorrow that she grew as dry as -<span class="no-wrap">wood.<a id="FNanchor_128" href="#Footnote_128" class="fnanchor">[128]</a></span> -Yet did she -never cease to indulge her in the joys of former days, -even going so far as to borrow the aid of a certain Secretary -she had, and of other such to boot, and even of her -cook, so ’twas reported. For all that, she did not win -back her flesh, albeit the said cook, who was all fat and -greasy, ought surely, I ween, to have made her fat. So -she went on, taking now one, now another of her serving-men, -all the while playing the part of the most prudish -and virtuous dame in all the Court, with pious phrases -ever on her lips, and naught but scandal against all other -women, and never a word of good for any of them. Of -like sort was that noble woman of Dauphiné, in the <i>Cent<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">[310]</span> -Nouvelles</i> of the Queen of Navarre, which was found lying -flat on the grass with her groom or muleteer by a certain -gentleman, that was ready to die of love for her but this -sight did quick cure his love sickness for him.</p> - -<p>I have heard speak of a very beautiful woman at -Naples, which had the repute of going in like manner -with a Moor, the ugliest fellow in the world, who was -her slave and groom, but something made her love him.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">12.</p> - -<p>I have read in an old Romance, <i>Jehan de -Saintré</i>, printed in black letter, how the late -King John of France did rear the hero Jehan -as his page. Now by custom of former days, -great folk were used to send their pages to carry messages, -as is done likewise to-day. But then they were -wont to go everywhere, and up and down the countryside, -a-horseback; I have even heard our fathers say -they were not seldom sent on minor embassies, for by -despatching a page and horse and a broad piece, the -thing was done and so much expense well spared. This -same little Jehan de Saintré (for so he did long continue -to be -<span class="no-wrap">called)<a id="FNanchor_129" href="#Footnote_129" class="fnanchor">[129*]</a></span> -was very much loved of his master the King, -for that he was full of wit and intelligence, and was often -sent to carry trifling messages to his sister, who was -at the time a widow,—though the book saith not whose -widow. This great lady did fall enamoured of the lad, -after he had been several times on errands to her; so one -day, finding a good opportunity and no one nigh, she did -question him, asking him an if he did not love some lady -or other at Court, and which of them all liked him best.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">[311]</span> -This is a way a great many ladies have, whenas they be -fain to score the first point and deliver their first attack -on one they fancy, as myself have seen done. Well! little -Jehan de Saintré, who had never so much as dreamed of -love, told her, “No! not yet,” going on to describe several -Court ladies, and what he thought of them. Then did -she hold forth to him on the beauties and delights of -love, but he only answered, “Nay! I care less than ever -for’t.” For in those old days, even as to-day, some of -our greatest ladies were slaves to love and much subject -to detraction; for indeed folk so adroit as they have -grown since, and ’twas only the cleverest that had the -good fortune to impose on their husbands and pass as -good women by virtue of their hypocrisies and little -wiles. The lady then, seeing the lad to be well-favoured, -goes on to tell him how she would give him a mistress -that would love him well, provided he was a true lover to -her, making him promise under pain of instant shame -and disgrace, that above all he should be sure and secret. -Eventually she did make her avowal to him, and tell him -herself would fain be his lady and darling,—for in those -days the word <i>mistress</i> was not as yet in vogue. At this -the young page was sore astonished, thinking she did but -make a mock of him, or wished to trap him and get him -a whipping.</p> - -<p>However she did very soon show so many unequivocal -signs of fire and heat of love and such tender familiarities, -as that he perceived ’twas no mockery; while she kept -on telling him she would train and form him and make -him a great man. The end was their loves and mutual -joys did last a long while, during his pagehood and after -he was no more a page, till at the last he had to depart<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">[312]</span> -on a distant journey,—when she did change him for a -great, fat Abbé. This is the tale we find in the <i>Nouvelles -du monde advantureux</i>, writ by a gentleman of the chamber -to the Queen of Navarre, wherein we see the Abbé -put an affront on the said Jehan de Saintré, that was so -brave and valiant; yet did he in no long while pay the -worthy Abbé back in good coin and three times over. -’Tis an excellent Tale, and cometh from the book I have -<span class="no-wrap">named.<a id="FNanchor_130" href="#Footnote_130" class="fnanchor">[130*]</a></span></p> - -<p>Here we see how ’tis not only of to-day that fair ladies -do love pages, above all when they be gay and speckled -like partridges. And verily, what creatures women be!—that -be ready enough to have lovers galore, but husbands -not! This they do for the love of freedom, which is indeed -a noble thing. For they think, when once they be -out of their husband’s rule, they are in Paradise, having -their fine dower and spending it themselves, managing -all the household, and handling the coin. All goeth -through their hands; and instead of being servants, they -be now mistresses, and do make free choice of their -pleasures, and such as do best minister to the same.</p> - -<p>Others again there be, which do surely hate the notion -of making a second marriage, from distaste to lose their -rank and dignity, their goods, riches and honours, their -soft and luxurious living, and for this cause do restrain -their passions. So have I known and heard speak of not -a few great dames and Princesses, which from mere dread -of their failing to find again the grandeurs of their first -match, and so losing rank, would never marry again. -Not that they did cease therefor one whit to follow after -love and turn the same to their joy and delight,—yet -all the while never losing their rank and dignity, their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">[313]</span> -stools of state and honourable seats in Queens’ chambers -and elsewhere. Lucky women, to enjoy their grandeur -and mount high, yet abase them low, at one and the -same time! But to say a word of reproach or remonstrance -to them, never dream no such thing! Else no -end would there be of anger and annoyance, denials and -protestations, contradiction and revenge.</p> - -<p>I have heard a tale told of a widow lady, and indeed I -knew her myself, which had long enjoyed the love of an -honourable gentleman, under pretext she would marry -him; but he did in no wise make himself obtrusive. A -great Princess, the lady’s mistress, was for reproaching -her for her conduct. But she, wily and corrupt, did -answer her: “Nay! Madam, but should it be denied us -to love with an honourable love? surely that were too -cruel.” Only God knoweth, this love she called honourable, -was really a most lecherous passion. And verily all -loves be so; they be born all pure, chaste and honourable, -but anon do lose their maidenhead, so to speak, and by -magic influence of some philosopher’s stone, be transformed -into base metal, and grow dishonourable and -lecherous.</p> - -<p>The late M. de Bussy, who was one of the wittiest -talkers of his time, and no less pleasing as a story-teller, -one day at Court seeing a great lady, a widow, and of -ripe years, who did still persist in her amorous doings, -did exclaim: “What! doth this hackney yet frequent the -stallion?” The word was repeated to the lady, which -did vow mortal hate against the offender. On M. de -Bussy’s learning this, “Well, well!” he said, “I know how -to make my peace, and put this all right. Prithee, go -tell her I said not so, but that this is what I really said,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">[314]</span> -‘Doth this -<span class="no-wrap"><i>filly</i><a id="FNanchor_131" href="#Footnote_131" class="fnanchor">[131]</a></span> -yet go to be mounted? For sure I am -she is not wroth because I take her for a light o’ love, -but for an old woman; and when she hears I called her -filly, that is to say a young mare, she will suppose I do -still esteem her a young woman.’” And so it was; for the -lady, on hearing this change and improvement in the -wording, did relax her anger and made it up with M. -de Bussy; whereat we did all have a good laugh. Yet for -all she might do, she was always deemed an old, half-foundered -jade, that aged as she was, still went whinnying -after the male.</p> - -<p>This last was quite unlike another lady I have also -heard tell of, who having been a merry wench in her -earlier days, but getting well on in years, did set her to -serve God with fast and prayer. An honourable gentleman -remonstrating and asking her wherefore she did -make such long vigils at Church and such severe fasts -at table, and if it were not to vanquish and deaden the -stings of the flesh, “Alas!” said she, “these be all over -and done with for me.” These words she did pronounce -as piteously as ever spake Milo of Croton, that strong -and stalwart wrestler of old, (I have told the tale elsewhere, -methinks), who having one day gone down into -the arena, or wrestlers’ ring, but only for to view the -game, for he was now grown very old, one of the band -coming up to him did ask, an if he would not try yet a -fall of the old sort. But he, baring his arms and right -sadly turning back his sleeves, said only, gazing the -while at his muscles and sinews: “Alas! they be dead -now.”</p> - -<p>Another like incident did happen to a gentleman I -wot of, similar to the tale I have just told of M. de Bussy.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">[315]</span> -Coming to Court, after an absence of six months, he -there beheld a lady which was used to attend the academy, -lately introduced at Court by the late King. “Why!” -saith he, “doth the academy then still exist? I was told -it had been abolished.”—“Can you doubt,” a courtier -answered him, “her attendance? Why! her master is -teaching her philosophy, which doth speak and treat of -perpetual motion.” And in good sooth, for all the beating -of brains these same philosophers do undergo, to -discover perpetual motion, yet is there none more surely -so than the motion Venus doth teach in <i>her</i> school.</p> - -<p>A lady of the great world did give even a better answer -of another, whose beauty they were extolling highly, only -that her eyes did ever remain motionless, she never turning -the same one way or the other. “We must suppose,” -she said, “all her care doth go to move other portions -of her body, and so hath she none to spare for her -eyes.”</p> - -<p>However, an if I would put down in writing all the -witty words and good stories I know, to fill out my matter, -I should never get me done. And so, seeing I have -other subjects to attack, I will desist, and finish with this -saying of Boccaccio, already cited above, namely, that -women, maids, wives and widows alike, at least the most -part of them, be one and all inclined to love. I have no -thought to speak of common folk, whether in country -or in town, for such was never mine intention in writing, -but only of well-born persons, in whose service my pen -is aye ready to run nimbly. But for mine own part, if I -were asked my true opinion, I should say emphatically -there is naught like married women, all risk and peril on -their husbands’ side apart, for to win good enjoyment<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">[316]</span> -of love withal, and to taste quick the very essence of its -delights. The fact is their husbands do heat them so, -they be like a furnace, continually poked and stirred, that -asks naught but fuel, water and wood or charcoal to -keep up its heat for ever. And truly he that would have -a good light, must always be putting more oil in the lamp. -At the same time let him beware of a foul stroke, and -those ambushes of jealous husbands wherein the wiliest -be oft times -<span class="no-wrap">caught!<a id="FNanchor_132" href="#Footnote_132" class="fnanchor">[132*]</a></span></p> - -<p>Yet is a man bound to go as circumspectly as he may, -and as boldly to boot, and do like the great King Henri, -who was much devoted to love, but at the same time -exceeding respectful toward ladies, and discreet, and for -these reasons much loved and well received of them. Now -whenever it fell out that this monarch was changing night -quarters and going to sleep in the bed of a new mistress, -which expecting him, he would never go thither (as I -learn on very good authority) but by the secret galleries -of Saint-Germain, Blois or Fontainebleau, and the little -stealthy back-stairs, recesses and garrets of his castles. -First went his favourite valet of the chamber, Griffon -by name, which did carry his boar-spear before him along -with the torch, and the King next, his great cloak held -before his face or else his night-gown, and his sword -under his arm. Presently, being to bed with the lady, -he would aye have his spear and sword put by the bed’s-head, -the door well shut, and Griffon guarding it, watching -and sleeping by turns. Now I leave it to you, an if a -great King did give such heed to his safety (for indeed -there have been some caught, both kings and great -princes,—for instance the Duc de Fleurance Alexandre -in our day), what smaller folks should do, following the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">[317]</span> -example of this powerful monarch. Yet there are to be -found proud souls which do disdain all precaution; and -of a truth they be often trapped for their pains.</p> - -<p>I have heard a tale related of King Francis, how having -a fair lady as -<span class="no-wrap">mistress,<a id="FNanchor_133" href="#Footnote_133" class="fnanchor">[133*]</a></span> -a connection that had long -subsisted betwixt them, and going one day unexpectedly -to see the said lady, and to sleep with her at an unusual -hour, ’gan knock loudly on the door, as he had both -right and might to do, being the master. She, who was at -the moment in company of the Sieur de Bonnivet, durst -not give the reply usual with the Roman courtesans under -like circumstances, <i>Non si puo, la signora è accompagnata</i>,—“You -cannot come in; Madam has company with -her.” In this case the only thing to do was to devise -quick where her gallant could be most securely hid. By -good luck ’twas summer time, so they had put an heap of -branches and leaves in the fire-place, as the custom is in -France. Accordingly she did counsel and advise him to -make at once for the fire-place, and there hide him among -the leafage, all in his shirt as he was,—and ’twas a fortunate -thing for him it was not winter. After the King -had done his business with the lady, he was fain to make -water; so getting up from the bed, he went to the fire-place -to do so, for lack of other convenience. And so -sore did he want to, that he did drown the poor lover -worse than if a bucket of water had been emptied over -him, for he did water him thoroughly, as with a garden -watering-pot, all round and about, and even over the -face, eyes, nose, mouth and everywhere; albeit by tight -shut lips he may have escaped all but a drop or so in his -chops. I leave you to fancy what a sorry state the -poor gentleman was in, for he durst not move, and what a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">[318]</span> -picture of patience and grim endurance he did present! -The King having done, withdrew, and bidding his mistress -farewell, left the chamber. The lady had the door immediately -shut behind him, and calling her lover into -her, did warm the poor man, giving him a clean shift to -put on. Nor was it without some fun and laughter, after -the fright they had had; for an if he had been discovered, -both he and she had been in very serious peril.</p> - -<p>’Twas the same lady, which being deep in love with -this M. de Bonnivet, and desiring to convince the King -of the contrary, for that he had conceived some touch of -jealousy on the subject, would say thus to him: “Oh! but -he’s diverting, that Sieur de Bonnivet, who thinks himself -so handsome! and the more I tell him he is a pretty -fellow, the more he doth believe it. ’Tis my great pastime, -making fun of the man, for he’s really witty and -ready-tongued, and no one can help laughing in his company, -such clever retorts doth he make.” By these words -she was for persuading the King that her common discourse -with Bonnivet had naught to do with love and -alliance, or playing his Majesty false in any wise. How -many fair dames there be which do practise the like wiles, -and to cloak the intrigues they are pursuing with some -lover, do speak ill of him, and make fun of him before -the world, though in private they soon drop this fine -pretense; and this is what they call cunning and contrivance -in love.</p> - -<p>I knew a very great -<span class="no-wrap">lady,<a id="FNanchor_134" href="#Footnote_134" class="fnanchor">[134*]</a></span> -who one day seeing her -daughter, which was one of the fairest of women, grieving -for the love of a certain gentleman, with whom her -brother was sore angered, did say this to her amongst -other things: “Nay! my child, never love that man. His<span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">[319]</span> -manners and form be so bad, and he’s such an ugly -fellow. He’s for all the world like a village pastry cook!” -At this the daughter burst out a-laughing, making merry -at his expense and applauding her mother’s description, -allowing his likeness to a pastry-cook, red cap and all. -For all that, she had her way; but some while after, in -another six months that is, she did leave him for another -man.</p> - -<p>I have known not a few ladies which had no words -bad enough to cast at women that loved inferiors,—their -secretaries, serving-men and the like low-born persons, -declaring publicly they did loathe such intrigues worse -than poison. Yet would these very same ladies be giving -themselves up to these base pleasures as much as any. -Such be the cunning ways of women; before the world -they do show fierce indignation against these offenders, -and do threaten and abuse them; but all the while behind -backs they do readily enough indulge the same vice themselves. -So full of wiles are they! for as the Spanish -proverb saith, <i>Mucho sabe la zorra; mas sabe mas la -dama enamorada</i>,—“The fox knoweth much, but a woman -in love knoweth more.”</p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<p class="noindent center bold p2">13.</p> - -<p>However, for all this fair lady of the tale -told above did to lull King Francis’ anxiety, -yet did she not drive forth every grain of -suspicion from out his head, as I have reason -to know. I do remember me how once, making a visit -to Chambord to see the castle, an old porter that was -there, who had been body servant to King Francis, did<span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">[320]</span> -receive me very obligingly. For in his earlier days he -had known some of my people both at Court and in the -field, and was of his own wish anxious to show me everything. -So having led me to the King’s bed-chamber, he -did show me a phrase of writing by the side of the window -on the left hand. “Look, Sir!” he cried, “read yonder -words. If you have never seen the hand-writing of the -King, mine old master, there it is.” And reading it, we -found this phrase, “<i>Toute femme varie</i>,” writ there in -large letters. I had with me a very honourable and very -able gentleman of Périgord, my friend, by name M. des -Roches, to whom I turned and said quickly: “’Tis to be -supposed, some of the ladies he did love best, and of -whose fidelity he was most assured, had been found of him -to <i>vary</i> and play him false. Doubtless he had discovered -some change in them that was scarce to his liking, and -so, in despite, did write these words.” The porter overhearing -us, put in: “Why! surely, surely! make no mistake, -for of all the fair dames I have seen and known, -never a one but did cry off on a false scent worse than -ever his hunting pack did in chasing the stag; yet ’twas -with a very subdued voice, for an if he had noted it, -he would have brought ’em to the scent again pretty -smartly.”</p> - -<p>They were, ’twould seem, of those women, which can -never be content with either their husbands or their -lovers, Kings though they be, and Princes and great -Lords; but must be ever chopping and changing. Such -this good King had found them by experience to be, -having himself first debauched the same and taken them -from the charge of their husbands or their mothers, -tempting them from their maiden or widowed estate.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">[321]</span></p> - -<p>I have both known and heard speak of a -<span class="no-wrap">lady,<a id="FNanchor_135" href="#Footnote_135" class="fnanchor">[135*]</a></span> -so fondly -loved of her Prince, as that for the mighty affection he -bare her, he did plunge her to the neck in all sorts of -favours, benefits and honours, and never another woman -was to be compared with her for good fortune. Natheless -was she so enamoured of a certain Lord, she would never -quit him. Then whenas he would remonstrate and declare -to her how the Prince would ruin both of them, -“Nay! ’tis all one,” she would answer; “an if you leave -me, I shall ruin myself, for to ruin you along with me. -I had rather be called your concubine than this Prince’s -mistress.” Here you have woman’s caprice surely, and -wanton naughtiness to boot! Another very great lady -I have known, a widow, did much the same; for albeit -she was all but adored of a very great nobleman, yet -must she needs have sundry other humbler lovers, so as -never to lose an hour of her time or ever be idle. For -indeed one man only cannot be always at work and afford -enough in these matters; and the rule of love is this, that -a passionate woman is not for one stated time, nor yet -for one stated person alone, nor will confine her to one -passion,—reminding me of that dame in the <i>Cent Nouvelles</i> -of the Queen of Navarre, which had three lovers -all at once, and was so clever she did contrive to manage -them all three most adroitly.</p> - -<p>The beautiful Agnes Sorel, the adored mistress of King -Charles VII., was suspected by him of having borne a -daughter that he thought not to be his, nor was he ever -able to recognize her. And indeed, like mother, like -daughter, was the word, as our Chroniclers do all agree. -The same again did Anne Boleyn, wife of King Henry -VIII. of England, whom he did behead for not being<span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">[322]</span> -content with him, but giving herself to adultery. Yet -had he chose her for her beauty, and did adore her fondly.</p> - -<p>I knew another lady which had been loved by a very -honourable gentleman, but after some while left by him; -and one day it happened that these twain fell to discussing -their former loves. The gentleman, who was for -posing as a dashing blade, cried, “Ha! ha! and think -you, you were my only mistress in those days? You will -be much surprised to hear, I had two others all the while, -would you not?” To this she answered on the instant, -“You would be yet more surprised, would you not? to -learn you were anything but mine only lover then, for I -had actually three beside you to fall back on.” Thus -you see how a good ship will always have two or three -anchors for to ensure its safety thoroughly.</p> - -<p>To conclude,—love is all in all for women, and so it -should be! I will only add how once I found in the tablets -of a very fair and honourable lady which did stammer a -little Spanish, but did understand the same language well -enough, this little maxim writ with her own hand, for I -did recognize it quite easily: <i>Hembra o dama sin compagnero, -esperanza sin trabajo, y navio sin timon; nunca -pueden hazer cost que sea buena</i>,—“Man or woman without -companion, hope without work, or ship without rudder, -will never do aught good for much.” ’Tis a saying -equally true for wife, widow and maid; neither one nor -the other can do aught good without the company of a -man, while the hope a lover hath of winning them is not -by itself near so like to gain them over readily as with -something of pains and hard work added, and some strife -and struggle. Yet doth not either wife or widow give -so much as a maid must, for ’tis allowed of all to be an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">[323]</span> -easier and simpler thing to conquer and bring under one -that hath already been conquered, subdued and overthrown, -than one that hath never yet been vanquished,—and -that far less toil and pains is spent in travelling a -road already well worn and beaten than one that hath -never been made and traced out,—and for the truth -of these two instances I do refer me to travellers and men -of war. And so it is with maids; indeed there be even -some so capricious as that they have always refused to -marry, choosing rather to live ever in maidenly estate. -But an if you ask them the reason, “’Tis so, because my -humour is to have it so,” they declare. Cybelé, Juno, -Venus, Thetis, Ceres and other heavenly goddesses, did -all scorn this name of virgin,—excepting only Pallas, -which did spring from her father Jupiter’s brain, hereby -showing that virginity is naught but a notion conceived -in the brain. So, ask our maids, which will never marry, -or an if they do, do so as late as ever they can, and at -an over ripe age, why they marry not, “’Tis because I -do not wish,” they say; “such is my humour and my -notion.”</p> - -<p>Several such we have seen at the Court of our Princes -in the days of King Francis. The Queen Regent had a -very fair and noble maid of honour, named -<span class="no-wrap">Poupincourt,<a id="FNanchor_136" href="#Footnote_136" class="fnanchor">[136*]</a></span> -which did never marry, but died a maid at the age of -sixty, as chaste as when she was born, for she was most -discreet. La Brelandière again died a maid and virgin at -the ripe age of eighty, the same which was governess of -Madame d’Angoulême as a girl.</p> - -<p>I knew another maid of honour of very great and exalted -family, and at the time seventy years of age, which -would never marry,—albeit she was no wise averse to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">[324]</span> -love without marriage. Some that would fain excuse her -for that she would not marry, used to aver she was meet -to be no husband’s wife, seeing she had no affair at all. -God knoweth the truth! but at any rate she did find a -good enough one to have good fun elsewhere withal. A -pretty excuse truly!</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle de Charansonnet, of Savoy, died at -Tours lately, a maid, and was interred with her hat and -her white virginal robe, very solemnly, with much pomp, -stateliness and good company, at the age of forty-five -or over. Nor must we doubt in her case, ’twas any defect -which stood in the way, for she was one of the fairest, -most honourable and most discreet ladies of the Court, -and myself have known her to refuse very excellent and -very high-born suitors.</p> - -<p>Mine own sister, Mademoiselle de Bourdeille, which is -at Court maid of honour of the present Queen, hath in -like wise refused very excellent offers, and hath never -consented to marry, nor never will. So firm resolved is -she and obstinate to live and die a maid, no matter to -what age she may attain; and indeed so far she hath -kept steady to her purpose, and is already well advanced -in years.</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle de -<span class="no-wrap">Certan,<a id="FNanchor_137" href="#Footnote_137" class="fnanchor">[137*]</a></span> -another of the Queen’s maids -of honour, is of the same humour, as also Mademoiselle -de Surgières, the most learned lady of the Court, and -therefore known as <i>Minerva</i>,—and not a few others.</p> - -<p>The Infanta of Portugal, daughter of the late Queen -Eleanor, I have seen of the same resolved mind; and she -did die a maid and virgin at the age of sixty or over. -This was sure from no want of high birth, for she was -well born in every way, nor of wealth, for she had plenty,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">[325]</span> -and above all in France, where General Gourgues did -manage her affairs to much advantage, nor yet of natural -gifts, for I did see her at Lisbon, at the age of five and -forty, a very handsome and charming woman, of good -and graceful appearance, gentle, agreeable, and well deserving -an husband her match in all things, in courtesy -and the qualities we French do most possess. I can affirm -this, from having had the honour of speaking with this -Princess often and familiarly.</p> - -<p>The late Grand Prior of Lorraine, when he did bring -his galleys from East to West of the Mediterranean -Sea on his voyage to Scotland, in the time of the minority -of King Francis II., passing by Lisbon and tarrying -there some days, did visit and see her every day. She -did receive him most courteously and took great delight -in his company, loading him with fine presents. Amongst -others, she gave him a chain to suspend his cross withal, -all of diamonds and rubies and great pearls, well and -richly worked; and it might be worth from four to five -thousand crowns, going thrice round his neck. I think -it might well be worth that sum, for he could always -pawn it for three thousand crowns, as he did one time -in London, when we were on our way back from Scotland. -But no sooner was he returned to France than he did -send to get it out again, for he did love it for the sake of -the lady, with whom he was no little captivated and taken. -And I do believe she was no less fond of him, and would -willingly have unloosed her maiden knot for him,—that -is by way of marriage, for she was a most discreet and -virtuous Princess. I will say more, and that is, that -but for the early troubles that did arise in France, into -the which his brothers did draw him and kept him engaged<span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">[326]</span> -therein, he would himself have brought his galleys back -and returned the same road, for to visit this Princess -again and speak of wedlock with her. And I ween he -would in that case have hardly been shown the door, for -he was of as good an house as she, and descended of great -Kings no less than she, and above all was one of the -handsomest, most agreeable, honourable and best Princes -of Christendom. Now for his brothers, in particular the -two eldest, for these were the oracles of the rest and -captains of the ship, I did one day behold them and him -conversing of the matter, the Cardinal telling them of his -voyage and the pleasures and favours he had received at -Lisbon. They were much in favour of his making the -voyage once more and going back thither again, advising -him to pursue his advantage in that quarter, as the Pope -would at once have given him dispensation of his religious -orders. And but for those accursed troubles I have spoke -of, he would have gone, and in mine opinion the emprise -had turned out to his honour and satisfaction. The said -Princess did like him well, and spake to me of him very -fondly, asking me as to his death,—quite like a woman -in love, a thing easily enough perceived in such circumstances -by a man of a little penetration.</p> - -<p>I have heard yet another reason alleged by a very -clever person, I say not whether maid or wife,—and she -had mayhap had experience of the truth thereof,—why -some women be so slow to marry. They declare this -tardiness cometh <i>propter mollitiem</i>, “by reason of luxuriousness.” -Now this word <i>mollities</i> doth mean, they be -so luxurious, that is to say so much lovers of their own -selves and so careful to have tender delight and pleasure -by themselves and in themselves, or mayhap with their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">[327]</span> -bosom friends, after the Lesbian fashion, and do find such -gratification in female society alone, as that they be convinced -and firmly persuaded that with men they would -never win such satisfaction. Wherefore they be content -to go without these altogether in their joys and toothsome -pleasures, without ever a thought of masculine -acquaintance or marriage.</p> - -<p>Maids and virgins would seem in old days at Rome -to have been highly honoured and privileged, so much -so that the law had no jurisdiction over them to sentence -them to death. Hence the story we read of a Roman -Senator in the time of the Triumvirate, which was condemned -to die among other victims of the Proscription, -and not he alone, but all the offspring of his loins. So -when a daughter of his house did appear on the scaffold, -a very fair and lovely girl, but of unripe years and yet -virgin, ’twas needful for the executioner to deflower her -himself and take her maidenhead on the scaffold, and -only then when she was so polluted, could he ply his -knife upon her. The Emperor Tiberius did delight in -having fair virgins thus publicly deflowered, and then put -to death,—a right villainous piece of cruelty, pardy!</p> - -<p>The Vestal Virgins in like manner were greatly honoured -and respected, no less for their virginity than for -their religious character; for indeed, an if they did show -any the smallest frailty of bodily purity, they were an -hundred times more rigorously punished than when they -had failed to take good heed of the sacred fire, and were -buried alive under the most pitiful and terrible circumstances. -’Tis writ of one Albinus, a Roman gentleman, -that having met outside Rome some Vestals that were -going somewhither a-foot, he did command his wife and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">[328]</span> -children to descend from her chariot, to set them in it and -so complete their journey. Moreover they had such -weight and authority, as that very often they were trusted -as umpires to make peace betwixt the Roman people and -the Knights, when troubles did sometimes arise affecting -the two orders. The Emperor Theodosius did expel them -from Rome under advice of the Christians; but in opposition -to the said Emperor the Romans did presently depute -one Symmachus, to beseech him to restore them -again, with all their wealth, incomings and privileges as -before. These were exceedingly great, and indeed every -day they were used to distribute so great a store of alms, -as that neither native Roman nor stranger, coming or -going, was ever suffered to ask an alms, so copious was -their pious charity toward all poor folk. Yet would Theodosius -never agree to bring them back again.</p> - -<p>They were named Vestals from the Latin word <i>vesta</i>, -signifying fire, the which may well turn and twist, shoot -and sparkle, yet doth it never cast seed, nor receive the -same,—and so ’tis with a virgin. They were bound so to -remain virgins for thirty years, after which they might -marry; but few of them were fortunate in so leaving their -first estate, just like our own nuns which have cast off -the veil and quitted the religious habit. They kept much -state and went very sumptuously dressed,—of all which -the poet Prudentius doth give a pleasing description, -being apparently much in the condition of our present -Lady Canonesses of Mons in Hainault and Réaumond in -Lorraine, which be permitted to marry after. Moreover -this same Prudentius doth greatly blame them because -they were used to go abroad in the city in most magnificent -coaches, correspondingly attired, and to the Amphitheatres<span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">[329]</span> -to see the games of the Gladiators and combats -to the death betwixt men and men, and men and wild -beasts, as though finding much delight in seeing folk thus -kill each other and shed blood. Wherefore he doth pray -the Emperor to abolish these sanguinary contests and -pitiful spectacles altogether. The Vestals at any rate -should never behold suchlike barbarous sports; though -indeed they might say for their part: “For lack of other -more agreeable sports, the which other women do see and -practise, we must needs content us with these.”</p> - -<p>As for the estate of widows in many cases, there be -many which do love just as soberly as these Vestals, and -myself have known several such; but others again would -far fainer take their joy in secret with men, and in the -fullness of complete liberty, rather than subject to them -in the bonds of marriage. For this reason, when we do see -women long preserve their widowhood, ’tis best not over -much to praise them as we might be inclined to do, till -we do know their mode of life, and then only, according -to what we have learned thereof, either to extol them -most highly or scorn them. For a woman, when she is -fain to unbend her severity, as the phrase is, is terribly -wily, and will bring her man to a pretty market, an if he -take not good heed. And being so full of guile, she doth -well understand how to bewitch and bedazzle the eyes and -wits of men in such wise they can scarce possibly recognize -the real life they lead. For such or such an one they -will mistake for a perfect prude and model of virtue, -which all the while is a downright harlot, but doth play -her game so cunningly and furtively none can ever discover -aught.</p> - -<p>I have known a great Lady in my time, which did<span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">[330]</span> -remain a widow more than forty years, so acting all the -while as to be esteemed the most respectable woman in -country or Court, yet was she <i>sotto coverto</i> (under the -rose) a regular, downright harlot. So featly had she -followed the trade by the space of five and fifty years, -as maid, wife and widow, that scarce a suspicion had she -roused against her at the age of seventy, when she died. -She did get full value of her privileges as a woman; one -time, when a young widow, she fell in love with a certain -young nobleman, and not able otherwise to get him, she -did come one Holy Innocents’ day into his bed-chamber, -to give him the usual greetings. But the young man gave -her these readily enough, and with something else than -the customary instrument. She had her dose,—and many -another like it -<span class="no-wrap">afterward.<a id="FNanchor_138" href="#Footnote_138" class="fnanchor">[138*]</a></span></p> - -<p>Another widow I have known, which did keep her widowed -estate for fifty years, all the while wantoning it -right gallantly, but always with the most prudish modesty -of mien, and many lovers at divers times. At the -last, coming to die, one she had loved for twelve long -years, and had had a son of him in secret, of this man -she did make so small account she disowned him completely. -Is not this a case where my word is illustrated, -that we should never commend widows over much, unless -we know thoroughly their life and life’s end?</p> - -<p>But at this rate I should never end; and an end we -must have. I am well aware sundry will tell me I have -left out many a witty word and merry tale which might -have still better embellished and ennobled this my subject. -I do well believe it; but an if I had gone on so from -now to the end of the world, I should never have made -an end; however if any be willing to take the trouble<span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">[331]</span> -to do better, I shall be under great obligation to the -same.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Well! dear ladies, I must e’en draw to an end; and I -do beg you pardon me, an if I have said aught to offend -you. ’Tis very far from my nature, whether inborn or -gotten by education, to offend or displeasure you in -any wise. In what I say of women, I do speak of some, -not of all; and of these, I do use only false names and -garbled descriptions. I do keep their identity so carefully -hid, none may discover it, and never a breath of -scandal can come on them but by mere conjecture and -vague suspicion, never by certain inference.</p> - -<p>I fear me ’tis only too likely I have here repeated a -second time sundry witty sayings and diverting tales I -have already told before in my other Discourses. Herein -I pray such as shall be so obliging as to read all my -works, to forgive me, seeing I make no pretence to being -a great Writer or to possess the retentive memory needful -to bear all in mind. The great Plutarch himself doth -in his divers Works repeat several matters twice over. -But truly, they that shall have the task of printing my -books, will only need a good corrector to set all this -matter right.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">[333]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter illowe25 mt4" style="max-width: 65.5em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/i_339_top.jpg" alt="chapter head scroll work" /> -</div> -<p class="noindent center x-large bold nobreak">NOTES</p> -<div class="figcenter illowe25 mb4" style="max-width: 65.5em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/i_339_bottom.jpg" alt="chapter head scroll work" /> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">[335]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter illowe25 mt4" style="max-width: 65.5em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/i_chapter_heads.jpg" alt="chapter head scroll work" /> -</div> - -<h2 class="nobreak p2" id="NOTES">NOTES</h2> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> P. 3:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆At first this discourse was the last; it is outlined in the -manuscript 608 as follows: “Discourse on why beautiful and faithful -women love valiant men, and why worthy men love courageous -women.”</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> P. 5:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Virgil, in his Æneid (Bk. I), makes Penthesileia appear -only after Hector’s death. For these accounts on the Amazons, consult -<i>Traité historique sur les Amazones</i>, by Pierre Petit, Leyde, 1718.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> P. 6:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆See Boccaccio, <i>De Claris Mulieribus</i>.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Æneid, IV., 10–13.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> P. 8:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆A Latin work of Boccaccio in nine books.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Bk. IX., Chap. 3.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[5]</a> P. 9:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆<i>Nouvelle</i>, 1554–1574.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Bandello, t. III., p. 1 (Venice, 1558).</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</a> P. 11:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆The Duc d’Anjou, afterwards Henri III. of France, is -meant. He was the third son of Henri II. and Catherine de Medici, -and was born at Fontainebleau 1551. On the death of his brother -Charles IX. in 1574 he succeeded to the throne. Died 1589. The victories -referred to are those of Jarnac and Montcontour.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[7]</a> P. 12:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Ronsard, <i>Œuvres</i>, liv. 1, 174th sonnet.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">[8]</a> P. 13:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆“Petit-Lit” is Leith,—the port of Edinburgh, on the Firth -of Forth. The English army under Lord Grey of Wilton invaded -Scotland in 1560, and laid siege to Leith, then occupied by the -French. The place was stubbornly defended, but must soon have -fallen, when envoys were sent by Francis II. from France to conclude -a peace. These were Monluc, Bishop of Valence, and the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_336" style="margin-left: 2.35em;">[336]</span> -Sieur de Rendan mentioned in the text; the negotiators appointed -to meet them on the English side were the Queen’s great minister -Cecil and Wotton, Dean of Canterbury. The French troops were -withdrawn.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆The little Leith. (Cf. Jean de Beaugué, <i>Histoire de la -guerre d’Ecosse</i>, reprinted by Montalembert in 1862, Bordeaux.)</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Jacques de Savoie, Duke de Nemours, died in 1585.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Charles de La Rochefoucauld, Count de Randan, was sent -to England in 1559, where he arranged peace with Scotland.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">[9]</a> P. 14:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆An imaginary king without authority.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Philibert le Voyer, lord of Lignerolles and of Bellefllle, -was frequently employed as a diplomatic agent. He was in Scotland -in 1567. He was assassinated at Bourgueil in 1571, because he was -suspected of betraying Charles IX.’s avowal regarding Saint Bartholomew.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Brantôme knew quite well that the woman the handsome -and alluring Duke de Nemours truly loved was no other than Mme. -de Guise, Anne d’Este, whom he later married.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">[10]</a> P. 15:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆XVIth Tale. Guillaume Gouffier, lord of Bonnivet.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Marguerite de Valois took Bussy d’Amboise partly because -of his reputation as a duellist.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">[11]</a> P. 17:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Jacques de Lorge, lord of Montgomerie, captain of Francis -I.’s Scotch Guard and father of Henri II.’s involuntary murderer.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">[12]</a> P. 18:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Claude de Clermont, Viscount de Tallard.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆François de Hangest, lord of Genlis, captain of the Louvre, -who died of hydrophobia at Strassburg in 1569.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="label">[13]</a> P. 19:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆It is undoubtedly Louise de Halwin, surnamed Mlle. de -Piennes the Elder, who later married Cipier of the Marcilly family.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆It is to this feminine stimulation that King Francis I. -alluded in the famous quatrain in the Album of Aix, which is rightly -or wrongly attributed to him.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_337">[337]</span></p> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="label">[14]</a> P. 20:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Agnès Sorel, or Soreau, the famous mistress of Charles VII., -was daughter of the Seigneur de St. Gérard, and was born at the -village of Fromenteau in Touraine in 1409. From a very early age -she was one of the maids of honour of Isabeau de Lorraine, Duchess -of Anjou, and received every advantage of education. Her wit and -accomplishments were no less admired than her beauty.</p> - -<p class="hanging1"> She first visited the Court of France in the train of this latter -Princess in 1431, where she was known by the name of the <i>Demoiselle</i> -de Fromenteau, and at once captivated the young King’s heart. -She appeared at Paris in the Queen’s train in 1437, but was intensely -unpopular with the citizens, who attributed the wasteful expenditure -of the Court and the misfortunes of the Kingdom to her. -Whatever may be the truth of Brantôme’s tale of the astrologer, -there is no doubt as to her having exerted her influence to rouse -the King from the listless apathy he had fallen into, and the idle, -luxurious life he was leading in his Castle of Chinon, while the -English were still masters of half his dominions.</p> - -<p class="hanging1"> She was granted many titles and estates by her Royal lover,—amongst -others the castle of Beauté, on the Marne, whence her -title of La Dame de Beauté, and that of Loches, in the Abbey -Church of which she was buried on her sudden death in 1450, and -where her tomb existed down to 1792.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Charles VII., son of the mad Charles VI., born 1403, crowned -at Poitiers 1422, but only consecrated at Reims in 1429, after the -capture of Orleans and the victories due to Jeanne d’Arc. The -adversary of the Burgundians and the English under the Duke of -Bedford and Henry V. of England. Died 1461.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Henry V. of England, reigned, 1413–1422.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Bertrand du Guesclin, Constable of France, the most -famous warrior of the XIVth Century, and one of the greatest Captains -of any age, was born about 1314 near Rennes of an ancient and -distinguished family of Brittany. He was the great champion of -France in the wars with the English, and the tales of his prowess -are endless. Died 1380.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="label">[15]</a> P. 21:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Béatrix, fourth daughter of Raymond-Béranger IV., Count -de Provence.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="label">[16]</a> P. 22:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Isabeau de Lorraine, daughter of Charles II., married -René d’Anjou.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_338">[338]</span></p> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="label">[17]</a> P. 24:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆He called himself René de La Platière, lord of Les Bordes, -and was ensign in Field Marshal de Bourdillon’s company; he was -killed at Dreux. He was the son of François de La Platière and -Catherine Motier de La Fayette.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Brantôme, in his eulogy of Bussy d’Amboise, relates that -he reprimanded that young man for his mania of killing. The woman -whom he compares here to Angélique was Marguerite de Valois.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18" class="label">[18]</a> P. 27:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Brantôme is unquestionably referring again in this paragraph -to Marguerite de Valois and Bussy d’Amboise.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_19" href="#FNanchor_19" class="label">[19]</a> P. 28:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆<i>Orlando furioso</i>, canto V.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_20" href="#FNanchor_20" class="label">[20]</a> P. 30:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆That is why Marguerite de Valois turned away “that big -disgusting Viscount de Turenne.” She compared him “to the empty -clouds which look well only from without.” (<i>Divorce satyrique.</i>)</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆This is very likely an adventure that happened to Brantôme, -and he had occasion to play the rôle of the “gentilhomme content.”</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_21" href="#FNanchor_21" class="label">[21]</a> P. 32:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆According to Lalanne, the two gentlemen are Le Balafré -and Mayenne. If the “grande dame” was Marguerite, she bore -Mayenne no grudge, whom she described as “a good companion, big -and fat, and voluptuous like herself.”</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_22" href="#FNanchor_22" class="label">[22]</a> P. 37:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆It is Madeleine de Saint-Nectaire or Senneterre, married -to the lord of Miramont, Guy de Saint-Exupéry; she supported the -Huguenots. She defeated Montal in Auvergne, and according to -Mézeray, killed him herself in 1574. (See Anselme, t. IV., p. 890.) -In 1569, Mme. de Barbancon had also fought herself; she, too, was -formerly an Italian, Ipolita Fioramonti.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_23" href="#FNanchor_23" class="label">[23]</a> P. 39:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆On the large square with the tower, in the centre of Sienna.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_24" href="#FNanchor_24" class="label">[24]</a> P. 40:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Livy, Bk. XXVII., Chap. XXXVII.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_25" href="#FNanchor_25" class="label">[25]</a> P. 42:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆<i>Orlando furioso</i>, cantos XXII. and XXV.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Christophe Jouvenel des Ursins, lord of La Chapelle, died -in 1588.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Henri II.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_339">[339]</span></p> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_26" href="#FNanchor_26" class="label">[26]</a> P. 44:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Ipolita Fioramonti, married to Luigi di Malaspina, of the -Padua branch; she was general of the Duke of Milan’s armies. -(Litta, Malaspina di Pavia, t. VIII., tav. xx.)</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Famous fortified city and seaport on the Atlantic coast of -France; 800 miles S. W. of Paris, capital of the modern Department -of Charente-Inférieure.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_27" href="#FNanchor_27" class="label">[27]</a> P. 45:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆The interview between François de La Noue, surnamed -Bras-de-Fer (iron arm), and the representatives of Monsieur, François, -Duke d’Alencon, took place February 21, 1573. The scene that -Brantôme describes happened Sunday, February 22.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_28" href="#FNanchor_28" class="label">[28]</a> P. 46:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆What Brantôme advances here is to be found in Jacques -de Bourbon’s <i>La grande et merveilleuse oppugnation de la noble cité -de Rhodes</i>, 1527.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆The siege took place in 1536.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_29" href="#FNanchor_29" class="label">[29]</a> P. 47:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆August 14, 1536. Count de Nassau besieged Péronne at -the head of 60,000 men; the population defended itself with the uttermost -energy. Marie Fouré, according to some, was the principal -heroine of this famous siege; according to others, all the honor should -go to Mme. Catherine de Foix. (Cf. <i>Pièces et documents relatifs au -siège de Péronne, en 1536.</i> Paris, 1864.)</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆The siege of Sancerre began January 3, 1573; but the rôle -of the women was more pacific than at Péronne; they nursed the -wounded and fed the combatants. The energetic Joanneau governed -the city. (Poupard, <i>Histoire de Sancerre</i>, 1777.)</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Vitré was besieged by the Duke de Mercœuer in 1589. -This passage of Brantôme’s is quoted in the <i>Histoire de Vitré</i> by -Louis Dubois (1839, pp. 87–88).</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Péronne, a small fortified town of N. W. France, on the -Somme and in the Department of same name. It was bombarded by -the Prussians in 1870, and the fine belfry of the XIVth Century -destroyed. Its siege by the Comte de Nassau was in 1536.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Sancerre, a small town on the left bank of the Loire, modern -Department of the Cher, 27 miles from Bourges. The Huguenots -of Sancerre endured two terrible sieges in 1569 and 1573.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_340">[340]</span></p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Vitré, a town of Brittany, modern Department Ille-et-Vilaine, -of about 10,000 inhabitants. Retains its medieval aspect and -town walls to the present day.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_30" href="#FNanchor_30" class="label">[30]</a> P. 48:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Collenuccio, Bk. V.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_31" href="#FNanchor_31" class="label">[31]</a> P. 49:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Boccaccio has arranged this story in his <i>De claries mulieribus</i>, -cap. CI. Vopiscus, <i>Aurelius</i>, XXVI–XXX, relates this fact -more coolly.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Zenobia, the famous Queen of Palmyra, widow of Odena—thus, -who had been allowed by the weak Emperor Gallienus to participate -in the title of Augustus, and had extended his empire over a -great part of Asia Minor, Syria and Egypt. She was eventually -defeated by Aurelian in a great battle on the Orontes not far from -Antioch. Palmyra was destroyed, and its inhabitants massacred; -and Zenobia brought in chains to Rome.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆The Emperor Aurelian was born about 212 A. D., and was -of very humble origin. He served as a soldier in almost every part -of the Roman Empire, and rose at last to the purple by dint of his -prowess and address in arms, succeeding Claudius in 270 A. D. -Almost the whole of his short reign of four years and a half was -occupied in constant fighting. Killed in a conspiracy 275 A. D.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_32" href="#FNanchor_32" class="label">[32]</a> P. 53:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Perseus, the last King of Macedon, son of Philip V., came -to the throne 179 B. C. His struggle with the Roman power lasted -from 171 to 165, when he was finally defeated at the battle of -Pydna by the consul L. Aemilius Paulus. He was carried to Rome -and adorned the triumph of his conqueror in 167 B. C., and afterwards -thrown into a dungeon. He was subsequently released, however, -on the intercession of Aemilius Paulus, and died in honourable -captivity at Alba.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Maria of Austria, sister of Charles V., widow of Louis II. -of Hungary, and ruler over the Netherlands; she died in 1558. It -was against her rule that John of Leyden struggled.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Brantôme has in mind Aurelia Victorina, mother of Victorinus, -according to Trebillius Pollio, <i>Thirty Tyrants</i>, XXX.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_33" href="#FNanchor_33" class="label">[33]</a> P. 54:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆In Froissart, liv. I, chap. 174.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_341">[341]</span></p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Henri I., Prince de Condé, died in 1588 (January 5), -poisoned, says the <i>Journal de Henri</i>, by his wife Catherine Charlotte -de la Trémolle.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Isabella of Austria, daughter of Philip II.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Jeanne de Flandres.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_34" href="#FNanchor_34" class="label">[34]</a> P. 55:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Jacquette de Montberon, Brantôme’s sister-in-law.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Machiavelli, Dell’arte della guerre, Bk. V., ii.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_35" href="#FNanchor_35" class="label">[35]</a> P. 56:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Paule de Penthièvre, the second wife of Jean II. de Bourgogne, -Count de Nevers.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_36" href="#FNanchor_36" class="label">[36]</a> P. 57:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Richilde, Countess de Hainaut, who died in 1091.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Hugues Spencer, or le Dépensier.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Jean de Hainaut, brother of Count de Hainaut.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Cassel and Broqueron.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Edward II. of Caernarvon, King of England, was the -fourth son of Edward I. and Queen Eleanor. Ascended the throne -1307, and married Isabel of France the following year. A cowardly -and worthless Prince, and the tool of scandalous favourites, such as -Piers Gaveston. Isabel and Mortimer landed at Orwell, in Suffolk, -in 1326, and deposed the King, who was murdered at Berkeley -Castle, 1327.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_37" href="#FNanchor_37" class="label">[37]</a> P. 58:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Eleonore d’Acquitaine.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_38" href="#FNanchor_38" class="label">[38]</a> P. 59:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Thevet wrote the <i>Cosmographie</i>; Nauclerus wrote a <i>Chronographie</i>.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_39" href="#FNanchor_39" class="label">[39]</a> P. 60:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Vittoria Colonna, daughter of Fabrizio Colonna and of -Agnes de Montefeltro, born in 1490, and affianced at the age of four -to Ferdinand d’Avalos, who became her husband. The letter of which -Brantôme speaks is famous; he found it in Vallès, fol. 205. As for -Mouron, he was the great Chancellor Hieronimo Morone.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_40" href="#FNanchor_40" class="label">[40]</a> P. 61:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Plutarch, <i>Anthony</i>, Chap. xiv.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_342">[342]</span></p> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_41" href="#FNanchor_41" class="label">[41]</a> P. 62:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Catherine Marie de Lorraine, wife of Louis de Bourbon, -Duke De Montpensier.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Henri III., assassinated at Paris, 1589.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_42" href="#FNanchor_42" class="label">[42]</a> P. 65:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆The <i>other man</i> was Mayenne.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_43" href="#FNanchor_43" class="label">[43]</a> P. 67:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Poltrot de Méré was tortured and quartered (March 18, -1563). As regards the admiral, he was massacred August 24, 1572.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_44" href="#FNanchor_44" class="label">[44]</a> P. 68:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Philibert de Marcilly, lord of Cipierre, tutor of Charles IX.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_45" href="#FNanchor_45" class="label">[45]</a> P. 71:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆On this adventure, consult the Additions au Journal de -Henri III., note 2.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_46" href="#FNanchor_46" class="label">[46]</a> P. 72:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Louis de Correa, <i>Historia de la conquista del reino de -Navarra</i>.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_47" href="#FNanchor_47" class="label">[47]</a> P. 76:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Louise de Savoie.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_48" href="#FNanchor_48" class="label">[48]</a> P. 77:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Charlotte de Roye, married to Francis III. de La Rochefoucauld -in 1557; she died in 1559.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_49" href="#FNanchor_49" class="label">[49]</a> P. 78:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Marguerite de Foix-Candale, married to Jean Louis de -Nogaret, Duke d’Eperon.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_50" href="#FNanchor_50" class="label">[50]</a> P. 79:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Renée de Bourdeille, daughter of André and Jacquette -Montberon. She married, in 1579, David Bouchard, Viscount d’Aubeterre, -who was killed in Périgord in 1593. She died in 1596. The -daughter of whom Brantôme is about to speak was Hippolyte Bouchard, -who was married to François d’Esparbez de Lussan. The -three daughters whom he later mentions were: Jeanne, Countess de -Duretal, Isabelle, Baroness d’Ambleville, and Adrienne, lady of -Saint-Bonnet.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_51" href="#FNanchor_51" class="label">[51]</a> P. 80:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Married subsequently to François d’Esparbez de Lussan, -Maréchal d’Aubeterre.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_52" href="#FNanchor_52" class="label">[52]</a> P. 83:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Renée de Clermont, daughter of Jacques de Clermont-d’Amboise, -lord of Bussy; she was married to the incompetent Jean -de Montluc-Balagny (bastard of the Bishop de Valence), created -Field Marshal of France in 1594.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_343">[343]</span></p> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_53" href="#FNanchor_53" class="label">[53]</a> P. 84:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Gabrielle d’Estrées.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_54" href="#FNanchor_54" class="label">[54]</a> P. 85:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Popular song of the day; Musée de Janequin. See <i>Recueil</i> -of Pierre Atteignant.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_55" href="#FNanchor_55" class="label">[55]</a> P. 89:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Renée Taveau, married to Baron Mortemart. François de -Rochechouart.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_56" href="#FNanchor_56" class="label">[56]</a> P. 91:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆There is a copy of this sixth discourse in the MS. 4788, -<i>du fonds français</i>, at the Bibliothèque Nationale: this copy is from -the end of the sixteenth century.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_57" href="#FNanchor_57" class="label">[57]</a> P. 92:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Charlotte de Savoie, second wife of Louis XI., daughter of -Louis, Duke de Savoie.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Louis XI. is generally supposed not only to have bandied -many such stories with all the young bloods at the Court of Philippe -le Bon, Duke of Burgundy, where he had taken refuge when Dauphin, -but actually to have taken pains to have a collection of them made -and afterwards published in the same order in which we have them, -in the Work entitled “<i>Cent Nouvelles nouvelles</i>,” <i>lequel en soy contient -cent chapitres ou histoires, composées ou récitées par nouvelles -gens depuis naguères</i>,—“An Hundred New Romances,—a -Work containing in itself an hundred chapters or tales, composed -or recited by divers folk in these last years.” This is confirmed by -the words of the original preface or notice, which would appear to -have been written in his life-time: “And observe that throughout -the <i>Nouvelles</i>, wherever ’tis said by <i>Monseigneur</i>, Monseigneur the -Dauphin is meant, which hath since succeeded to the crown and is -now King Louis XI.; for in those days he was in the Duke of -Burgundy’s country.” But as it is absolutely certain this Prince -only withdrew into Brabant at the end of the year 1456, and only -returned to France in August 1461, it is quite impossible the Collection -can have appeared in France about the year 1455, as is -stated without sufficient consideration in the preface of the latest -editions of this work. Two ancient editions are known, one,—Paris -1486, folio; the other also published at Paris, by the widow -of Johan Treperre, N. D., also folio. Besides this, two modern -editions, with badly executed cuts, printed at Cologne, by Pierre -Gaillard, 1701 and 1736 respectively, 2 vols. 8vo.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_58" href="#FNanchor_58" class="label">[58]</a> P. 93:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆By <i>Bourguignonne</i> the King meant <i>étrangère</i> (foreigner).</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_344">[344]</span></p> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_59" href="#FNanchor_59" class="label">[59]</a> P. 94:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆See the sojourn of Charles VIII. at Lyons: <i>Séjours de -Charles VIII. et Louis XII. à Lyon sur le Rosne jouxte la copie des -faicts, gestes et victoires des roys Charles VIII. et Louis XII.</i>, Lyon, -1841.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Louis XII. had really been a “good fellow,” without mentioning -the laundress of the court, who was rumored to be the mother -of Cardinal de Bucy, he had known at Genoa Thomasina Spinola, -with whom, according to Jean d’Authon, his relations were purely -moral.</p> -</div> - - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_60" href="#FNanchor_60" class="label">[60]</a> P. 97:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Francis I. forbade by the decree of December 23, 1523, that -any farces be played at the colleges of the University of Paris -“Wherein scandalous remarks are made about the King or the -princes or about the people of the King’s entourage.” (Clairambault, -824, fol. 8747, at the Biblilothèque Nationale.) This king maintained, -as Brantôme says, that women are very fickle and inconstant; he -wrote to Montmorency of his own sister Marguerite de Valois, November -8, 1537: “We may be sure that when we wish women to stop -they are dying to trot along; but when we wish them to go they -refuse to budge from their place.” (Clairambault, 336, fol. 6230, v<sup>o</sup>.)</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_61" href="#FNanchor_61" class="label">[61]</a> P. 98:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Paul Farnese, Paul III.—1468–1549.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆The queen arrived at Nice, June 8, 1538, where the king -and Pope Paul III. were. The ladies of whom Brantôme speaks -should be the Queen of Navarre, Mme. de Vendôme, the Duchess -d’Etampes, the Marquess de Rothelin—that beautiful Rohan of whom -it was said that her husband would get with child and not she—and -thirty-eight gentlewomen. (Clair., 336, fol. 6549.)</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆John Stuart, Duke of Albany, grandson of James II., King -of Scotland. He was born in France in 1482 and died in 1536. The -anecdote that Brantôme relates is connected with the journey of -Clement VI. to Marseilles at the time of the marriage of Henri II., -then Duke d’Orléans, with the niece of the pope, Catherine de Medici. -The marriage took place at Marseilles in 1533.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_62" href="#FNanchor_62" class="label">[62]</a> P. 100:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Louise de Clermont Tallard, who married as her second -husband the Duc d’Uzes. Jean de Taix was the grand master of -artillery.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_63" href="#FNanchor_63" class="label">[63]</a> P. 107:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆He was called Pierre de La Mare, lord of Matha, master -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_345" style="margin-left: 2.35em;">[345]</span> -of the horse to Marguerite, sister of the king. (Bib. Nat., Cabinet -des Titres, art. Matha.) Aimée de Méré was at the court from 1560 -to 1564. Hence this adventure took place during that time. (Bib. -Nat. ms. français 7856, fol. 1186, v<sup>o</sup>.)</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_64" href="#FNanchor_64" class="label">[64]</a> P. 108:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Povided with “bards,” plate-armour used to protect a -horse’s breast and flanks.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_65" href="#FNanchor_65" class="label">[65]</a> P. 109:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆This Fontaine-Guérin was in all likelihood Honorat de -Bueil, lord of Fontaine-Guérin, gentleman of the king’s bed-chamber, -councillor of State, who died in 1590. He was a great favorite of -Charles IX.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_66" href="#FNanchor_66" class="label">[66]</a> P. 112:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆The lady in question was Françoise de Rohan, dame de -La Garnache, if we are to believe Bayle in the <i>Dict. Critique</i>, p. 1817, -2nd. ed., though there would seem to be some doubt about it. The -“very brave and gallant Prince” was the Duc de Nemours.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆A German dance, the <i>Facheltanz</i>.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_67" href="#FNanchor_67" class="label">[67]</a> P. 113:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Marie de Flamin.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_68" href="#FNanchor_68" class="label">[68]</a> P. 114:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆The son of this lady was Henri d’Angoulème, who killed -Altoviti and was killed by him at Aix, and not at Marseilles, June 2, -1586. Philippe Altoviti was the Baron of Castellane; he had married -the beautiful Renée de Rieux-Châteauneuf.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_69" href="#FNanchor_69" class="label">[69]</a> P. 115:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆<i>Le Tigre</i>—a pamphlet by François Hotman directed -against the Cardinal de Lorraine and the Duchesse de Guise, 1560.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_70" href="#FNanchor_70" class="label">[70]</a> P. 116:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Philibert de Marcilly, lord of Cipierre.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_71" href="#FNanchor_71" class="label">[71]</a> P. 117:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆That pamphlet was aimed at Anne d’Este, Duchess de -Guise, at the time of her marriage with the Duc de Nemours.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_72" href="#FNanchor_72" class="label">[72]</a> P. 119:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Brantôme alludes to the hatred of the Duchess de Montpensier.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_73" href="#FNanchor_73" class="label">[73]</a> P. 120:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Marie de Clèves, who died during her lying-in in 1574.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Catherine Charlotte de La Trémolle, Princess de Condé.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_74" href="#FNanchor_74" class="label">[74]</a> P. 122:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Not found anywhere in Brantôme’s extant works.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_346">[346]</span></p> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_75" href="#FNanchor_75" class="label">[75]</a> P. 125:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Du Guast or Lignerolles. However, it may refer to Bussy -d’Amboise.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_76" href="#FNanchor_76" class="label">[76]</a> P. 126:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Marie Babou de la Bourdaisière, who married Claude de -Beauvillier Saint-Aignan in 1560.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_77" href="#FNanchor_77" class="label">[77]</a> P. 128:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Plutarch, <i>Sylla</i>, cap. XXX.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_78" href="#FNanchor_78" class="label">[78]</a> P. 129:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Queen Maria of Hungary, ruler of the Netherlands, and -sister of Charles V.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Plutarch, <i>Cato of Utica</i>, cap. XXXV.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_79" href="#FNanchor_79" class="label">[79]</a> P. 132:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆The personages in question are Henri III., Renée de -Rieux-Châteauneuf, then Mme. de Castellane, and Marie de Clèves, -wife of the Prince de Condé.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Louis de Condé, who deserted Isabeau de La Tour de -Limeuil to marry Françoise d’Orléans. The beauty of which Brantôme -speaks can scarcely be seen in the portrait in crayon of Isabeau -de Limeuil who became Mme. de Sardini.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_80" href="#FNanchor_80" class="label">[80]</a> P. 135:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Mottoes were constantly used at that time.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_81" href="#FNanchor_81" class="label">[81]</a> P. 136:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Anne de Bourbon, married in 1561 to François de Clèves, -Duke de Nevers and Count d’Eu.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_82" href="#FNanchor_82" class="label">[82]</a> P. 146:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆The empress was Elizabeth of Portugal; the Marquis de -Villena, M. de Villena; the Duke de Feria, Gomez Suarez de Figueroa, -Duke de Feria; Eleonor, the Queen of Portugal, later married -to François I<sup>er</sup>; Queen Marie, the Queen of Hungary.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_83" href="#FNanchor_83" class="label">[83]</a> P. 147:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Elizabeth, daughter of Henri II.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_84" href="#FNanchor_84" class="label">[84]</a> P. 151:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆The MS. of this discourse is at the Bibliothèque Nationale -(Ms. fr. 3273); it is written in a good hand of the end of the sixteenth -century. It is dedicated to the Duke d’Alençon.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_85" href="#FNanchor_85" class="label">[85]</a> P. 152:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆<i>Opere</i> di G. Boccaccio, <i>Il Filicopo</i>, Firenze, 1723, t. II., -p. 73.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_86" href="#FNanchor_86" class="label">[86]</a> P. 159:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆<i>La Tournelle</i> in the original. This was the name given to -the Criminal Court of the Parliament of Paris.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_347">[347]</span></p> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_87" href="#FNanchor_87" class="label">[87]</a> P. 161:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Barbe de Cilley; she died in 1415.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_88" href="#FNanchor_88" class="label">[88]</a> P. 166:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Brantôme is undoubtedly referring to Mme. de Villequier.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_89" href="#FNanchor_89" class="label">[89]</a> P. 172:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆This is again Isabeau de La Tour Limeuil.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_90" href="#FNanchor_90" class="label">[90]</a> P. 178:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆See XXVth Tale in <i>Cent Nouvelles nouvelles</i>.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_91" href="#FNanchor_91" class="label">[91]</a> P. 188:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Honoré Castellan.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Baron de Vitteau was this member of the Du Prat family; -he killed Louis de Béranger du Guast.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_92" href="#FNanchor_92" class="label">[92]</a> P. 190:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Chicot was Henri III.’s jester who killed M. de La Rochefoucauld -on Saint Bartholomew’s Day.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_93" href="#FNanchor_93" class="label">[93]</a> P. 194:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆<i>Alberic de Rosate</i>, under the word “Matrimonium” in his -<i>Dictionary</i> reports an exactly similar instance. <i>Barbatias</i> has something -even more extraordinary, how a boy of seven got his nurse -with child.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_94" href="#FNanchor_94" class="label">[94]</a> P. 195:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆The Queen Mother Catherine de Medici. The author gives -her name in his book of the <i>Dames Illustres</i>, where he tells the -same story.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_95" href="#FNanchor_95" class="label">[95]</a> P. 207:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Jean de Rabodanges, who married Marie de Clèves, -mother of Louis XII. She was <i>reine blanche</i>, that is, she was in -mourning; at that time the women of the nobility wore white when -in mourning.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_96" href="#FNanchor_96" class="label">[96]</a> P. 207:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆These eighteen chevaliers, who were elevated in one -batch, caused a good deal of gossip at the court.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_97" href="#FNanchor_97" class="label">[97]</a> P. 214:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Louis de Béranger du Guast.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_98" href="#FNanchor_98" class="label">[98]</a> P. 216:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆She was thirty-five; she died three years later.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_99" href="#FNanchor_99" class="label">[99]</a> P. 217:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆It is the Château d’Usson in Auvergne.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_100" href="#FNanchor_100" class="label">[100]</a> P. 218:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Louis de Saint-gelais-Lansac.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_101" href="#FNanchor_101" class="label">[101]</a> P. 220:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Jeanne, married to Jean, Prince of Portugal. She died -in 1578.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_348">[348]</span></p> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_102" href="#FNanchor_102" class="label">[102]</a> P. 225:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Sébastien, died in 1578. This passage in Brantôme is -not one of the least irreverent of this hardened sceptic.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_103" href="#FNanchor_103" class="label">[103]</a> P. 226:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆The portraits of Marie disclose a protruding mouth. She -is generally represented with a cap over her forehead. This feature -is to be found in a marked degree in Queen Eleanore; and her -brother Charles V. also had a protruding mouth. The drooping lip -was likewise characteristic of all the later Dukes de Bourgogne.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_104" href="#FNanchor_104" class="label">[104]</a> P. 228:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆The entanglements of which Brantôme speaks were: the -revolt of the Germanats, in Spain, in 1522; of Tunis or Barbarie, -1535; the troubles in Italy, also in 1535; the revolt in the Netherlands, -provoked by the taxes imposed by Maria, in 1540. M. de -Chièvres was Guillaume de Croy.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_105" href="#FNanchor_105" class="label">[105]</a> P. 229:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Folembray, the royal residence occupied by François I^{er} -and later by Henri II. Henri IV. negotiated there with Mayenne -during the Ligue.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Bains en Hainaut.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_106" href="#FNanchor_106" class="label">[106]</a> P. 230:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Claude Blosset, surnamed Torcy, lady of Fontaine Chalandray.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_107" href="#FNanchor_107" class="label">[107]</a> P. 234:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Christine of Denmark, daughter of Christian II., first married -to Francesco Maria Sforza, Duke of Milan. In 1540, five years -after her husband’s death, she married Francis I. of Lorraine. Her -son was Charles II. of Lorraine.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆N. de La Brosse-Mailly.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_108" href="#FNanchor_108" class="label">[108]</a> P. 285:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆A small plank attached to the saddle of a lady’s horse, -and serving to support the rider’s feet. Superseded by the single -stirrup and pommel.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_109" href="#FNanchor_109" class="label">[109]</a> P. 236:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Guy du Faur de Pybrac.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_110" href="#FNanchor_110" class="label">[110]</a> P. 243:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Renée, wife of Guillaume V., Duke de Bavière.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_111" href="#FNanchor_111" class="label">[111]</a> P. 246:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Blanche de Montferrat, wife of Charles I^{er}, Duke de -Savoie; she died in 1509.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_112" href="#FNanchor_112" class="label">[112]</a> P. 247:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Paradin, <i>Chronique de Savoye</i>, III, 85.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_349">[349]</span></p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆The seneschal’s lady of Poitou was Mme. de Vivonne.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_113" href="#FNanchor_113" class="label">[113]</a> P. 249:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Nicolas de Lorraine-Vaudemont, father-in-law of Henri -III.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Françoise d’Orléans, widow of Louis, Prince de Condé.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_114" href="#FNanchor_114" class="label">[114]</a> P. 250:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Louise, daughter of Nicolas de Lorraine-Vaudemont, married -in 1575; she died in 1601.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_115" href="#FNanchor_115" class="label">[115]</a> P. 252:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Jean de Talleyrand, former ambassador at Rome.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_116" href="#FNanchor_116" class="label">[116]</a> P. 255:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Refers of course to the assassination of Henri III., by -the monk Clément (1589).</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_117" href="#FNanchor_117" class="label">[117]</a> P. 256:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Marguerite de Lorraine, whose second marriage was with -François de Luxembourg, Duke de Piney.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Mayenne, Duke du Maine.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Aymard de Chastes.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_118" href="#FNanchor_118" class="label">[118]</a> P. 257:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Catherine de Lorraine.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_119" href="#FNanchor_119" class="label">[119]</a> P. 273:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Jean Dorat, died in 1588. Louis de Béranger du Guast.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_120" href="#FNanchor_120" class="label">[120]</a> P. 280:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Caesar Borgia, son of Pope Alexander VI.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Thomas de Foix, lord of Lescun, brother of Mme. de -Châteaubriant.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Piero Strozzi, Field Marshal of France.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_121" href="#FNanchor_121" class="label">[121]</a> P. 281:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Jean de Bourdeille, brother of Brantôme. He died at -the age of twenty-five at the siege of Hesdin. It was from him that -the joint title of Brantôme passed on to our author.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Henri de Clermont, Viscount de Tallard.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆André de Soleillas, Bishop of Riez in Provence, in 1576. -He had a mistress who was given to playing the prude, but whose -hypocrisy did not deceive King Henri IV. That Prince, one day -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_350" style="margin-left: 2.35em;">[350]</span> -rebuking this lady for her love affairs, said her only delight was in -<i>le jeune et l’oraison</i>,—fast and prayer.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_122" href="#FNanchor_122" class="label">[122]</a> P. 282:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆This widow of a Field Marshal of France was very likely -the lady of Field Marshal de Saint-André. She wedded as a second -husband Geoffroi de Caumont, abbé de Clairac. She called herself -Marguerite de Lustrac. As for Brantôme’s aunt, it should be -Philippe de Beaupoil; she married La Chasteignerie, and as a -second husband François de Caumont d’Aymé.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_123" href="#FNanchor_123" class="label">[123]</a> P. 285:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Anne d’Anglure de Givry, son of Jeanne Chabot and -René d’Anglure de Givry. Jeanne married as a second husband -Field Marshal de La Chastre.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Jean du Bellay and Blanche de Tournon.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_124" href="#FNanchor_124" class="label">[124]</a> P. 288:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Odet de Coligny, Cardinal de Chastillon, married to Elizabeth -de Hauteville.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_125" href="#FNanchor_125" class="label">[125]</a> P. 290:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Henri II., who neglected his wife, the Queen, for the -Duchesse de Valentinois (Diane de Poitiers), who was already quite -an old woman and had been his father, the preceding King’s, mistress.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_126" href="#FNanchor_126" class="label">[126]</a> P. 293:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆About the year 400 of the Christian era, St. Jerome witnessed -the woman’s funeral, and he it is reports the fact mentioned -in the text. <i>Epist. ad Ageruchiam, De Monogamia.</i></p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Charles de Rochechouart.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_127" href="#FNanchor_127" class="label">[127]</a> P. 302:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Scio was taken in 1566 by the Turks.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_128" href="#FNanchor_128" class="label">[128]</a> P. 309:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆It was to her that King Henri IV. said at a court ball by -way of amusing the company, that she had used green wood and dry -wood both. This jest he made at her expense, because the said lady -did never spare any other woman’s good name.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_129" href="#FNanchor_129" class="label">[129]</a> P. 310:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆L’histoire et Plaisante cronique du Petit Jehan de Saintré, -par Antoine de La Salle. Paris, 1517.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_130" href="#FNanchor_130" class="label">[130]</a> P. 312:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆XLVth Tale.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_131" href="#FNanchor_131" class="label">[131]</a> P. 314:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆According to Rabelais, <i>poultre</i> (filly) is the name given to -a mare that has never been leapt. So Bussy was not speaking with -strict accuracy in using the term in this case.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_132" href="#FNanchor_132" class="label">[132]</a> P. 316:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆An allusion to the affair of Jarnac, who killed La Chasteignerie, -Brantôme’s uncle, in a duel (1547) with an unexpected and -decisive thrust of the sword.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_351">[351]</span></p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Alesandro de Medici, killed, in 1537, by his cousin Lorenzino.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_133" href="#FNanchor_133" class="label">[133]</a> P. 317:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Mme. de Chateaubriant.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_134" href="#FNanchor_134" class="label">[134]</a> P. 318:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Perhaps Marguerite de Valois and the ugly Martigues.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_135" href="#FNanchor_135" class="label">[135]</a> P. 321:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆The one-eyed Princess d’Eboli and the famous Antonio -Perez.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_136" href="#FNanchor_136" class="label">[136]</a> P. 323:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Jeanne de Poupincourt.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_137" href="#FNanchor_137" class="label">[137]</a> P. 324:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆Anne de Berri, Lady de Certeau, at the court in 1583. -Hélène de Fonsèques.</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆This princess was very ugly.</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_138" href="#FNanchor_138" class="label">[138]</a> P. 330:</p> - -<p class="hanging1">◆In the sixteenth century it was customary to whip lazy -people in bed. See Marot’s epigram: Du Jour des Innocens.</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center p2"><span class="smcap">End of Volume Two</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="transnote-end chapter p2"> -<p class="center bold TN-style-1"><a id="TN"></a>Transcriber’s Note (continued)</p> - -<p class="TN-style-1">The book contains long passages of older French in which the reader -will notice many flaws in grammar, spelling and accents. These may make -some of the French difficult to read but it will be obvious that this -cannot be fixed without sometimes inadvertently changing the intended -meaning. For that reason all passages in French are presented unchanged -in this transcription.</p> - -<p class="TN-style-1">Similarly with the passages in Italian and Spanish.</p> - -<p class="TN-style-1">For the rest of the text, the many inconsistencies in English spelling, -capitalisation, and hyphenation have been left unchanged except where -noted below. Other minor typographical errors have been corrected -without note.</p> - -<p class="TN-style-2">Page xxviii – “or” changed to “of” (a contemporary of)</p> - -<p class="TN-style-2">Page 93 – “nay” changed to “any” (scarce any account of her)</p> - -<p class="TN-style-2">Page 126 – “may” changed to “many” (how many stages)</p> - -<p class="TN-style-2">Page 138 – “Fontainbleau” changed to “Fontainebleau” (at Fontainebleau)</p> - -<p class="TN-style-2">Page 259 – “Randam” changed to “Randan” (Madame de Randan)</p> - -<p class="TN-style-2">Page 290 – “Cnæus” changed to “Gnæus” (Gnæus Pompeius)</p> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p class="TN-style-1">The numbered references to endnotes on the pages of the book are -incorrect in most cases. Many other pages of the book should have -had references to endnotes but those references are missing.</p> - -<p class="TN-style-1">In order to reindex the references in this transcription, a temporary -‘placeholder’ reference was added to those pages where there should -have been at least one numbered reference to endnotes but it was -omitted in the book.</p> - -<p class="TN-style-1">The transcriber has retained these placeholder references as they are -helpful to the reader. Placeholder references are distinguished by an -asterisk next to the index number (as in [99*], for example). Their -role is exactly the same as that of the references originally present -in the book; namely to direct the reader to the correct page header in -the endnotes. Under that page header will be found all the author’s -notes relevant to the page.</p> - -<p class="TN-style-1">Where originally there were more than one numbered reference to -endnotes on a page of the book, these now have the same index number -in this transcription. That index number links to the respective page -header in the endnotes.</p> - -<p class="TN-style-1">Endnotes have been reformatted so that each separate note is -distinguished by a prefixing ◆ character.</p> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p class="TN-style-1"><a class="underline" href="#top">Back to top</a></p> -</div> - - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIVES OF FAIR AND GALLANT LADIES. 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