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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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