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THE  LIBRARY 

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LOS  ANGELES 


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VOLUME  II 


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COPYRIGHT,,  1922,  BY 
THE  ALEXANDRIAN  SOCIETY,  Ixc. 


PRINTED    IN    THE    UNITED    STATES    OF    AMERICA 


College 


v.  2 


CONTENTS 


INTRODUCTION.     BY  GEORG  HARSDORFER 


PACK 

.     vii 


FIFTH  DISCOURSE 

TELLING  How  FAIR  AND  HONORABLE  LADIES  Do  LOVE 
BRAVE  AND  VALIANT  MEN,  AND  BRAVE  MEN  COUR- 
AGEOUS 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        .        .        .   ifl 

ARTICLE  III.    OF  THE  LOVE  OF  WIDOWS     .        .        .   203 

NOTES      ......  .    335 


INTRODUCTION 

|HE  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.  Bran- 
tome  might  have  made  this  witticism  even  in  his  time.  Per- 
haps 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  main- 
tained 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  un- 
aware 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  Brantome  "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  im- 

[vii] 


\'»\'r/»ir/*Yir/»ii/w«w^^  •    «    «    »   tafttawKS 


INTRODUCTION 


4WJl^WWW&»/m'^ 


puretes,  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  con- 
sidered merely  a  frivolous  collection  of  scandalous  anecdotes, 
but  a  "curious  historical  document." 

There  will  probably  always  be  a  difference  of  opinion  re- 
garding Brantome'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  dis- 
pose of  Brantome  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,  Brantome  is  too  good  to  be  labelled  in  this  manner. 
He  does  not  need  it  either,  he  is  of  sufficient  historical  impor- 
tance even  without  its  being  pointed  out.  The  question  now 
arises :  From  what  point  of  view  are  we  then  to  comprehend 
Brantome?  We  could  answer,  from  the  time  in  which  he 
lived.  But  that,  speaking  in  such  general  terms,  is  a  common- 
place. It  is  not  quite  correct  either.  For  in  spite  of  the 
opinions  of  the  educated  we  must  clearly  distinguish  between 
Brantome  as  an  author  and  Brantome  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  an- 
other 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  Brantome  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  con- 

[viii] 


Y«ttASlfAW^1iY»V»r*1^ 


J!X»>J!XV4l^l^lxm»^t^!^JtX8^ 


fessions  in  book- form?).  He  is  even  charged  with  a  crime 
when  he  merely  reports  such  events.  The  responsibility  which 
Brantome  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. 

Brantome  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  Brantome'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,  Brantome  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  Brantome 
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. 

Brantome'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  sec- 
ond half  of  the  sixteenth  century,  the  dissolute,  licentious  and 
immoral  Valois  are  always  mentioned.  The  kings  corrupted 
this  period  to  such  an  extent  that  Brantome  would  have  had 
to  be  a  Heliogabalus  in  order  to  make  his  own  contributions 
felt. 

[ix] 


:?ft1tffi1iAYfc>k3y«Y»/Kfrrt^^ 


JWJiVMWfl»^4l^Jl^^ 


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  Span- 
ish influence  the  Etiquette  of  Society  approached  its  perfec- 
tion. 

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,"  Bran- 
tome  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  kind- 
ness 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 

M 


ft\w*ir/»ir/»rtr«irtoirfcAi^^ 


j^^m^m»^mvJ^>^ 


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.  Brantome  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  Hepta- 
meron.  She  is  called  Ennasuite,  and  his  father  Francis  of 
Bourdeille  appears  as  Simontaut.  Life  in  the  Louvre  be- 
came more  and  more  lax.  Francis  I.,  this  royal  Don  Juan, 
is  even  said  to  have  been  a  rival  of  his  son,  without  our  know- 
ing, 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  noble- 
man which  caused  the  death  of  Francis  I.  was  entirely  unneces- 
sary. 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  num- 
bers. 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  cita- 
tions of  Brantome  indicate  the  frequency  and  closeness  of 

[xi] 


•ASir/»itfsvirfcW*ir^i^ 


JlV»41V»4^J^:^^l^^S4t^l^ai^ 


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  ex- 
terior, 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  esti- 
mated 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  intrigu- 
ing woman  who  later  tried  to  carry  out  her  most  secret  pur- 
poses 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  be- 
witching 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  Alen9on,  the  last  and  youngest  of 
the  Valois.  Of  these  four  sons  each  was  more  depraved  than 
the  other;  they  furnished  the  material  for  Brantome'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 

[xii] 


^wAir/jMr«\ii)Mr>Mt>»ir^^ 


INTRODUCTION 


Jt^4t^!^A^lV^i^l^l^l^t>8{l^^ 


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  Fra^ois  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,"  Bran  tome 
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  sweep- 
ing 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 

[xiii] 


HTWAWTWAWAWwTOI^Ig'alC'algwTO^ 

INTRODUCTION 


J:v?y«A8/J^J^JlWJtXVj:VV^J^ 


IX.,  and  later  when  he  himself  mounted  the  throne  his  brother 
Alcnc;on  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.  Bran- 
tome  was  the  first  to  recognize  this  and  he  was  glad  of  it. 
Indeed  he  even  encouraged  it.  Even  at  that  time  the  French- 
man 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  contin- 
uously 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  writ- 
ing 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  over- 
took 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  Alen9on,  the  fourth  of  these  brothers,  who  felt 

[xiv] 


•M>MBft{HWHKB»^^ 

INTRODUCTION 


A^mV^l^t^'t>8*^t*S*l^ 


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.  (1574-1689),  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.  Al- 
though 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,  con- 
veniences 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  him- 
self, 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  ap- 
proval but  a  kind  of  permanent  position."  Assassinations 

[xv] 


r?at^hw.r/8vit/»ir/»ir«\i!y»i^^ 


JSIPIaiJSi^l^lXI^^^SffiJ^ 


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  friv- 
olous, scandalous  court  consumed  enormous  sums  of  money. 
Such  a  miserable  wretch  as  Henri  III.  required  for  his  per- 
sonal 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  pe- 
riod, the  violent  means  of  obtaining  money  and  the  squander- 
ing 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  Brantome,  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  Alen9on  sought  his  favor. 
Subsequently  Brantome  entered  into  very  intimate  relations 
with  him. 

Alen£on  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 

[zvi] 


INTRODUCTION 


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  Alen9on  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  sen- 
tences. 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  Alen- 
$on,  but  he  did  not  see  it  any  more.  Brantome,  however, 
must  have  begun  it  while  he  was  still  living.  Alen9on  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  im- 
moral. 

Her  husband,  Henry  IV.,  entered  a  country  that  was  com- 
pletely exhausted.  The  state  debt  at  the  time  he  entered 
upon  his  reign  clearly  showed  the  spirit  of  the  previous  gov- 
ernments. 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 

[xvii] 


y*irfe^/ftrr«wrtrrrtirrfr)iv^ 


Jl^WJ^l^J^t^t^JIX^I^ 


INTRODUCTION 


is  between  1570-1590,  the  dissoluteness  reached  its  height 
and  this  made  it  possible  for  Brantome  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  Brantome 
with  his  inexhaustible  material.  Such  were  the  Valois. 

This  is  the  background  of  Brantome'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  Peri- 
gord.  Like  other  old  races  they  sought  to  trace  their  ances- 
tors back  into  the  times  of  Gaul  and  Rome.  Charlemagne  is 
said  to  have  founded  the  Abbey  Brantome. 

Brantome'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  garcon."  His  mother,  a  born  Chataigneraie, 
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  Brantome  spent  the  first  years  of  his  life 
in  Navarre.  Queen  Marguerite  died  in  1549  and  Brantome 
later  writes  of  his  sojourn  at  her  court:  "Moy  estant  petit 
garcon  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 — Brantome  went  to  Paris  to  take  up  his 
studies.  From  Paris,  where  he  probably  also  was  a  com- 
panion of  the  enfants  sanssouci,  he  went  to  Poitiers  to  con- 
tinue them.  There  in  1555,  while  still  "a  young  student," 

[xviii] 


it/RitjaiM«ir/8\irfc>iiV^^ 


',Wy9*S>8i$&^B!l£l!tl&!M^^ 


INTRODUCTION 


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  Brant ome  from  Henri  II.  as  a  reward  for  the  hero- 
isms of  his  older  brother.  This  young  abbot  was  about  six- 
teen years  old.  His  signature  and  his  title  in  family  docu- 
ments in  this  period  are  very  amusing:  "ReVerend  pere  en 
Dieu  abbe  de  Brantome."  As  an  abbot  he  had  no  ecclesiasti- 
cal duties.  He  was  his  own  pastor,  could  go  to  war,  get  mar- 
ried and  do  as  he  pleased.  But  nevertheless,  this  ecclesias- 
tical 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  tou- 
jours  six  on  sept  gentils  hommes,  armes  et  monte s  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  frangais,  Ch.  IV,  499).  Then 
he  went  to  Naples  with  Fransois  de  Guise.  He  himself  de- 
scribes his  reception  by  the  Duke  of  Alcala.  Here  he  also 
became  acquainted  with  Madame  de  Guast,  die  Marquise  del 
Vasto. 

In  1 560  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  Fran- 
cis II.  was  conducting  tournaments.  At  the  same  time  the 
House  of  Guise  took  notice  of  him.  In  recollection  of  his 
uncle,  La  Chataigneraie,  he  was  offered  high  protection  at  the 
court  of  Lorraine.  From  this  time  on  he  was  at  the  court 

[xix] 


ifew/stirrMiYMrAWftws^ 


J^i^t^l^^Jl^v^^JiM^^ 


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  Brantome  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  out- 
break of  the  civil  wars,  Brantome,  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  1561  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,  Brantome  also  hurried  thither.  He  returned 
by  way  of  Naples  and  again  presented  himself  to  the  Mar- 
quise 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  im- 
pression 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  Conde  and 
Admiral  Coligny  had  the  upper  hand.  The  Huguenots,  who 
heard  that  Brantome  had  reasons  to  be  displeased  with  the 
king,  tried  to  induce  him  to  commit  treason.  But  Brantome 
remained  firm.  He  was  given  the  title  Captain  ("Maitre  de 
camp")  of  two  companies  even  though  he  only  had  one — but 

[xx] 


INTRODUCTION 


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  prepa- 
rations for  this  expedition  had,  however,  kept  him  away  from 
St.  Bartholomew's  Eve,  even  though  later  he  cursed  them 
for  personal  reasons. 

Brantome  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.  Brantome  disapproved  of  the  Massacre  of  St. 
Bartholomew's  Eve  and  considered  it  entirely  reprehensible 
and  purposeless.  This  good  warrior  would  have  greatly  pre- 
ferred 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  accom- 
panied 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  Alengon, 

[xxi] 


r/tttotitoir/k^/wr/wr/wr^^^ 


INTRODUCTION 


the  youngest  of  the  Valois.  Bussy  d'Amboise,  the  foremost 
nobleman  of  Alen9on,  was  his  friend.  Alen9on  overwhelmed 
him  with  kindness  and  Brantome  had  to  beg  the  angry  king's 
pardon  for  his  defection. 

But  now  an  event  occurred  which  almost  drove  Brantome 
into  open  rebellion.  In  1582  his  oldest  brother  died.  The 
Abbey  had  belonged  to  both  of  them,  but  his  brother  had  ap- 
pointed his  own  heir  and  the  king  was  helpless  against  this. 
Brantome  became  very  angry  because  he  was  not  the  heir.  "Je 
ne  suis  qu'nn  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  1'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  1693  these  posts  were  returned 
to  the  family  Bourdeille.) 

(Other  reasons  which  angered  Brantome  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. 
Brantome  writes  regarding  this:  "We  have  seen  councillors 

[xxii] 


INTRODUCTION 


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  con- 
tinue 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  Alen- 
9on  wished  to  gain  his  allegiance  and  appointed  him  chamber- 
lain, 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  Alen5on,  for  we  hear  that  Brantome  soon  wrote  a  few  dis- 
courses which  he  dedicated  to  the  prince.  Brantome  sold  him- 
self to  Alengon,  which  is  almost  to  be  taken  literally.  Then 
Alen9on  died.  Brantome'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  ap- 
proached 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  frangais  (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 

[xxiii] 


BTWWYiHraHTMyWWSflgWWWWWWWTil^ 

INTRODUCTION 

labflifegis^ffl^iBi^as^tifeai!^^ 

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.  Brantome  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 
Brantome,  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  master- 
ing 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  Alen£on  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  com- 
plaints of  his  thwarted  ambitions  became  a  longed-for  dis- 
traction. He  died  July  16,  1614,  and  was  buried  in  the 
Chapel  of  Richemond. 

His  manuscripts  had  a  strange  fate.  They  were  the  prin- 
cipal care  of  his  last  will  and  testament.  This  in  itself  is  a 
monument  to  his  pride.  "J'ai  bien  de  1'ambition,"  he  writes, 

[xxiv] 


WMMftMWR^^ 

INTRODUCTION 


jwjta«wii»W!>s«&iiiJ^^i®{^ 


"je  la  veux  encore  monstrer  apres  ma  mort."  He  had  de- 
cided elements  of  greatness.  The  books  in  his  library  were 
to  remain  together,  "set  up  in  the  castle  and  not  to  be  scat- 
tered hither  and  thither  or  loaned  to  anyone."  He  wished  to 
have  the  library  preserved  "in  eternal  commemoration  of  him- 
self." 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  strict- 
est 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  Ton  prenne  sur  ma  lotate  heredite 
1'argent  qu  'en  pouvra  valoir  la  dite  impression,  et  qui  ne  se 
pouvra  certes  monter  a  beaucoup,  cur  j'ay  veu  force  impri- 
meurs  .  .  .  que  s'ils  ont  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  manu- 
scripts in  the  library.  In  the  course  of  time,  however,  copies 
came  into  circulation,  more  and  more  copies  were  made,  and 

[XXV] 


y*"r*irAW«w«Mr/WMMteY.r/'itfrfcW^ 


JtV8W^^WJ(^!i5««®Jl^l^4l^lXf4lX^ 


INTRODUCTION 


one  of  them  found  its  way  into  the  office  of  a  printer.  A  frag- 
ment was  smuggled  into  the  memoirs  of  Castelnau  and  wag 
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  num- 
ber 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  Brantome  (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  Bran- 
tome'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  Brantome  Premier 
and  Second  Livre  des  Dames.  The  new  titles  were  invented 
by  publishers  speculating  on  the  taste  of  the  times,  which  from 
1660-1670  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 
Brantome  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  Brantome,  are  very  good;  Bouchot's  text, 

[xxvi] 


i>affl>»iiV8<iMMr/g\it>»i^^ 


INTRODUCTION 


4l»W»Jt}»a^imm»J!^Jl»4!^t^^^ 


however,  is  merely  a  re-hash  of  Brantome  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  Brantome'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,  Bran- 
tome  could  not  escape  the  questionable  historical  methods  of 
that  period,  but  shares  these  faults  with  all  of  his  contempo- 
raries. 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  Brantome  sees  all  of  history  from  the  per- 
spective of  boudoir-wit.  Therefore  his  portraits  of  famous 
ladies  of  his  age  are  mere  mosaics  of  haphazard  observations 
and  opinions.  He  is  a  naive  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  respect- 
ful 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  Brantome  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  ill- 
ness. 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 

[xxvii] 


Y*ir^r/»ir/wrfcW*«^^^ 


:\&'_^\&iai&&&^m&^^ 


was  ridiculous.  The  idea  and  the  actual  creative  work  came 
long  before  the  moment  when  the  author  sat  down  to  write. 
None  of  Brantome's  stories  originated  in  his  abbey,  but  in 
Madrid,  in  Naples,  in  Malta  before  La  Rochelle,  in  the  Louvre, 
in  Blois  and  in  Alen£on.  Writing  down  a  story  was  a  repro- 
duction 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  Brantome  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  obser- 
vant. 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  or  Rabelais,  Marot  and  Ronsard,  he  was  an 

[xxviii] 


toi,Y«\!r»\i.Y«iMrtrfcw*Yir^^^ 


INTRODUCTION 


excellent  speaker.  If  Rabelais  had  a  Gallic  mind  then  Bran- 
tome'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.  Alencon, 
who  was  a  splendid  story-teller  himself  and  liked  to  hear 
love  stories  more  than  anything  else,  preferred  conversation 
with  him  to  anyone.  His  naivete  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  frangais. 

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  Brantome  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  fore- 
most story-teller  of  this  period,  is  more  logical.  An  academi- 
cal critic  says  of  Brantome :  "He  reports  without  choice  what 
is  good  and  bad,  what  is  noble  and  abominable,  the  good  not 
without  warmth,  but  the  bad  with  indestructible  cheerful- 

[xxix] 


rrtr/^rrrtr/tti.Yrtrrrtr/ftitf\ir^ 


J^lW,v?K^j:^^!^!^!^^^4l^ 


ness."  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  1'art  de  bien  dire,  et  remet  aux 
meux  disans  la  belle  disposition  de  paroles  eloquentes."  Be- 
cause 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,  never- 
theless he  adds  two  personal  elements:  an  amusing  smile  and 
a  remarkable  literary  talent.  The  following  may  even  have 
been  the  case.  In  the  beginning  Brantome  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.  Brantome 
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  in- 
formation regarding  the  court  of  Henri  II.  and  Catherine  of 
Medici,  one  ought  not  exactly  to  read  Brantome,  who  creates 
the  impression  as  if  the  court  were  a  model  of  a  moral  institu- 
tion. "Sa  compaignie  et  sa  court  estait  un  vray  paradis  du 
monde  et  escole  de  toute  honnestate,  de  virtu,  I'ornement  de  la 
France,"  he  once  says  somewhere  in  the  Dames  illv-stres  (page 
64).  On  the  other  hand,  L'Etorle  in  May,  1577,  gives  us  a 
report  of  a  banquet  given  by  the  Queen-mother  in  Chenon- 
ceaux:  "Les  femmes  les  plus  belles  et  honnestes  de  la  cour, 
estant  a  moitie  nues  et  ayant,  les  cheveux  epars  comme  espou- 

[xxx] 


INTRODUCTION 


jivs^v»j^j[xvjt.v»><j!^i^t^^!i^^ 


sees,  fuient  employees  a  faire  le  service."  Other  contempo- 
raries likewise  report  a  great  deal  of  the  immorality  prevail- 
ing 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."  (Bran- 
tome  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  Bran- 
tome  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  1'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  impor- 
tance and  has  more  of  symbolic  value.  They  are  pictures  of 
the  time  composed  of  a  confusing  multitude  of  anecdotes. 

[xxxi] 


ir»»i^ 


INTRODUCTION 


Perhaps  the  subject-matter  required  this  bizarre  method. 
The  Heptameron  of  Marguerite  of  Navarre  was  altogether  too 
precise.  Brantome  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  naively  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;  Brantome  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  tak- 
ing interest  in  religious  quarrels,  he  probably  also  hated  the 
monks  and  priests.  Thus  one  would  be  inclined  to  say  to  the 
Puritans  who  condemn  Brantome:  If  one  may  speak  of 
guilt  and  responsibility,  then  it  is  his  age  which  must  bear 
them.  Brantome  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.  Kanke 
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  Brantome. 

GEORG  HARSDORFER. 

(Translated  from  the  German.) 


[xxxii] 


LIVES  OF  FAIR  AND 
GALLANT    LADIES 


FIFTH    DISCOURSE 


G)ettlna    cova  iait  ana    oonouttuHC    taaiea  ao  love    wave 
ana  «oauant  men,   an3 


men  coutaqeotui 
«j 


1. 

]T  hath  ever  been  the  case  that  fair  and  hon- 
ourable 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  dap- 
per, 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 

[3] 


:/wr^mwiNir/«i^ir/wito\i^^ 


;ilWlJSyi®^»/^l^!^!^!^^^ 


be,  more  smacking  of  the  soldier  in  the  field  than  the  gal- 
lant 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  melee,  wher- 
ever 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  dura- 
tion for  the  Queen,  the  better  to  delight  her  lover,  did 
so  constantly  rush  forth  to  confront  all  hazards,  that  she 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

mxyyssiJis&JS!:!^^ 

was  slain  at  last  in  one  of  the  fiercest  and  fellest  en- 
counters. Others  however  say  she  did  never  see  Hector 
at  all,  but  that  he  was  dead  before  her  arrival.  So  com- 
ing on  the  scene  and  learning  his  death,  she  did  there- 
upon 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.x 

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  af- 
firm 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 

[5] 


. •...'•.:     .         •  :  ..         .         1         .         t         .         .         .         t         .         .         .         t        1         .         .         *         .         .         *        4         . 


)Vi£KS2$)&3KSB!3^^ 


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  hold- 
ing 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  cap- 
tains 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  hunt- 
ing 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  ^Eneid.  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. 

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 

[6] 


mW^^foW^foW^Wrt^ 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


,«M«tWM«w«mwiw^ 


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  her- 
self 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 

[7] 


y»W4ttir/i\irfr\irrsvir/»ir^r«vKrw 


.  ••:•    •    •    •    »    •    •    •»»»»»»»»••»•»?    »    •    • 


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,2  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, 

[8] 


BPCTggBfifflrglgfflgK^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

gg^SMiMSy^SMlMl'.^!^^ 

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  wan- 
tonness 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  dis- 
playing 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  s  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  Senor  de  Mendoza, 
which  was  himself  so  handsome,  brave  and  valiant,  folk 

[9] 


«y^iff^i?fsiggig^i?7gijfsag^^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

aM!MiMIMl^M£4^^ 

might  well  say  in  all  lands  that  now  the  finest  and  hand- 
somest 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 
Senor  de  Mendoza  as  that  she  did  never  slacken  till  she 
had  planned  a  pretended  pilgrimage  to  St.  James  of  Com- 
postella,  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 
Senor  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  him- 
self so  cold  and  respectful  toward  her  as  to  try  never  an 

[10] 


jg^aff^ff^iysiff^iffsij^ajy^ffr!^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

ifltkflj&a&gaytiii^iB^fl^^ 

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-respectful- 
ness, whereof  I  could  tell  some  excellent  stories,  were  I 
not  af eared  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,4  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  I 
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 

[11] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


{,^l®4!^l!^l^^Jl®!lS{!^e 


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  Senor  de  Mendoza 
and  the  Duchess  of  Savoy,  and  such  excessive  respectful- 
ness 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." 


2. 


OWEVER  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 

[12] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

aMlMliyilSagiiyiliyil&flltSa^^ 

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  be- 
fore I  had  looked  on  his  face." 

This  same  Queen,  some  while  after,  having  heard  great 
renown  of  the  Due  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  Rendan1  at  the  time 
when  King  Francis  II  did  send  him  to  Scotland  to  con- 
clude a  peace  under  the  walls  of  Leith,2  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  counte- 
nance 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 

[13] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

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  by  the  means  of  so  fair,  so  vir- 
tuous 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  ap- 
pear 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 

[14] 


tffwffm^^ffm^fi^ss^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

gMJMJMSZSSSMlMlRm^ 

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,  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,  follow- 
ing 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  con- 
fess 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,  shut- 
teth  to  the  door  behind  him.  Thus  did  he  betake  him  to 
his  lady  once  more,  which  did  then  fall  a-laughing  and 

[15] 


:rA\ir/s\iMkW«w»w«w*i&»ir^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

BMgg5M3yas^i&ffii^^ 

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  fair- 
est 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  resem- 
ble 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 

[16] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


Lorge,8  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  pre- 
sented to  the  lions,  these  did  not  dare  attack  him.  So 
after  picking  up  the  glove,  he  did  return  toward  his  mis- 
tress 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, 

[17] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  de- 
ceased M.  de  Clermont-Tallard  the  elder,  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  think- 
ing 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 

[18] 


iriftr/sAVftttffiir/stt/^^ 


^^l^!^t^t^!^4t^!^l^!.®U^ 


they  give  them  good  favours  once  for  all  and  pray  them, 
for  the  love  they  bear  them,  to  carry  these  forth  to  hon- 
ourable 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  in- 
finity of  instances. 

This  doth  remind  me,  how  that,  whenas  we  were  ad- 
vancing to  lay  siege  to  Rouen  in  the  first  war  of  Religion, 
Mademoiselle  de  Piennes,  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.  Cather- 
ine, 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 

[19] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


Agnes  Sorel,*  who  seeing  the  King  of  France  Charles 
VII.5  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  busi- 
ness, 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,6  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  astrolo- 
ger did  intend."  These  words  did  so  sorely  prick  the 
King's  heart,  as  that  he  fell  a-weeping;  and  thencefor- 
ward, 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  7  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  hus- 
band's fair  deeds  and  good  repute.  This  she  said  was  a 

[20] 


r^^w^ir/iSir4W^r/*w»w^ 


:jlWt!^lvs/j[JWlJ84WWPWlWt^l^(^^^ 


very  great  disgrace  to  her  and  him,  that  he  had  now 
grown  such  a  stay-at-home;  and  did  never  cease  her  chid- 
ing, 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  enjoy- 
ment most  precious. 

The  fourth  daughter  of  the  Comte  de  Provence,  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 

[21] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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,  without 
help  of  her  husband  Rene,  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. 

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 

[22] 


P^^ 
LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


«>»U^>84!a<8^!^t«flli^ 


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  be- 
stowed, 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  them- 
selves in  the  heat  of  battle  and  press  of  the  foe,  their  heart 
doth  swell  within  them  as  they  think  on  their  ladies,  the 

[23] 


;/wr«x1MM<MG&M?«ir?^^ 


J^t^l*SKJt^!t®]|^»^l^ 


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,  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  mis- 
tress 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 

[24] 


ffWirSRfyi^^ 

LIVES    OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

aiytii^aa^iMByflftJiiiyiii^^ 

Paladins  and  Knights  of  yore,  whether  Christian  or  Sara- 
cen. 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  en- 
gaged, '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  jour- 
neyings,  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  Rich- 
ards, 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  begin- 
ning, valour  hath  in  it  a  certain  force  and  overmastering 
power  to  make  itself  loved  of  its  opposite.  Then  be- 
side, there  is  a  kind  of  natural  inclination  doth  exist, 
constraining  women  to  love  great-heartedness,  which  to  be 

[25] 


ytfit^r7iSif?Si:rffirAW^  •    «    »    »    »Mr^wrrs\irr»Y.,r^r 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

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  Caesar,  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  some- 
times 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  work- 
man 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  bat- 

[26] 


gWWW^BPiffl^^ 
LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


tie ;  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  1 
whose  name  I  had  rather  not  give,  who  being  much  sub- 
ject to  evil  tongues,  did  quit  a  lover,  and  a  very  favour- 
ite one,  she  had,  seeing  him  backward  to  come  to  blows 
and  pick  a  quarrel  and  fight  it  out,  to  take  another 2 
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 

[27] 


r/»ir/r*w«\iY4M?»i&^ 


Jl^l^'^t^l^l&JH^I^l^^ 


them  in  terrible  wise,  both  them  and  their  new  gallants, 
if  ever  they  change.  Of  this  I  have  seen  not  a  few  ex- 
amples 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  detrac- 
tion 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,3  the  Senor  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  mod- 

[28] 


^ffifgltfgfiyW^B^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


era  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  gen- 
tlemen 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  en- 
riched 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  ad- 
duce, 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 

[29] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

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  cer- 
tain 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  for- 
ever abandoned  of  kind  fortune. 

I  have  heard  of  two  honourable  gentlemen  and  com- 
rades, 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  gar- 
den, 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  grate- 
ful. 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 

[30] 


JgWWffigfflgWKfiTSJ?^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


i!^^a»^t^^m»,/^ 


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:  "Heav- 
ens! Sir,  what  are  you  at?  Surely  you  be  the  maddest 
and  strangest  fellow  ever  was!  If  anyone  comes,  what- 
ever 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 

[31] 


g?^iygS?^B?Sffi?^l??^!ff^^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

igB£gg5S5LSlfeg!M!&g^^ 

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  * 
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  mis- 
tress. 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  com- 
pliment, 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  a  I'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 

[32] 


lsaag2Bsagww^!^g5^^ 

LIVES  OF  FAIR  AND  GALLANT  LADIES 


see  your  lady  before  you,  which  doth  but  wait  your  at- 
tack." 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 
Hotel  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  pol- 
tronneria! — "Oh!  poltroon  and  spiritless!  you  did  noth- 
ing !  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  dis- 
coursing of  the  said  play,  I  did  ask  a  very  fair  and  hon- 
ourable 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 

[33] 


•  *••:.•*.•  .•••--  .    .    •••••»•  .  '  *    .    •-,"••.-  .    «  ' . '  . '  .    » 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

done  nothing)  in  this  wise,  Ah  poltronazzo!  non  havete 
fatto  niente!  die  maldita  sia  la  tua  poltronneria! — "Oh! 
you  poltroon!  you  did  nothing!  a  curse  be  on  your  pol- 
troonery !" 

So  you  see  how  this  fair  lady  which  did  talk  with  me 
was  in  agreement  with  the  friend  in  reprobating  his  pol- 
troonery, 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  advan- 
tage 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  withdraw- 
ing 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 

[34] 


wtfimfti&Mffititf^^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

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  repeti- 
tions 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 

[35] 


B^lff^g^Slg^BTffl^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

great  as  young  men,  or  even  greater,  but  because  they 
have  not  the  powers  to  match.  And  this  is  what  a  Span- 
ish 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  fur- 
ther to  say,  Y  a  penas  es  nacldo  el  deseo,  cuando  se  muere 
luego, — "Scarce  is  the  desire  born,  but  it  dies  straight- 
way." Thus  old  men,  when  they  do  see  fair  objects  of 
attack,  dare  not  take  action,  porque  los  viejos  natural- 
mente  son  temerosos;  y  amor  y  temor  no  se  cdben  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. 

ijELL !  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  an- 
other point,  one  that  is  appertinent  and  be- 
longing 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  coura- 
geous men  be  ever  more  lovable  and  admirable  than  others, 

[36] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

'41MK^lM!M!MI&EB^!iL^^ 

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. 
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  calumni- 
ated 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  cour- 
age. 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  (Ghibel- 
lines).  For  after  the  dispositions  had  been  fixed  for  the 

[37] 


^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

aMiMi^aa^*aiia!^^ 

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  some- 
thing 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  com- 
pany and  ensign  the  same,  with  a  white  cross  and  this  de- 
vice: Pur  che  no  I'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  I'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 

[38] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

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  pres- 
ent, that  never  was  seen  so  fine  a  sight.  And  God  know- 
eth,  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  en- 
couraged 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  like- 
wise ranged  in  battle  array  in  the  great  square  before 
the  Palace  of  the  Signoria,  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 

[39] 


fifiiiyfti??Wfflirfflgs^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


yiiatisiii^ia^i^i^i^t^!^ 


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.  'Twas  a  solemn  progress  and  pro- 
cession 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  en- 
tangle 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 

[40] 


r«rttr«^r»vir7«it^r»vi&»it^r^ 


!W8ai^im«g!aa«giJSi!iaitt«<^ 


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 

[41] 


rAW<\ir/iW4»w»w^ir/»mi&s\ir/w^^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


command  of  the  squad  in  which  was  this  fair  girl,  when 
he  wist  of  her  act,  was  sore  vexed  he  had  not  better  recog- 
nized 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,  how- 
ever, great  hurt  had  come  to  him,  but  for  the  favour  of 
Roger,  who  taking  him  for  his  mistress  Bramante,  did 
save  him  scatheless  pf  death.1 

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 

[42] 


jgftiffww^Braijffflj?wwffl?fi^^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

gg^sfli^iKmai&flia^^^ 

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.  Accord- 
inly  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  familiar- 
ities 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  jour- 
ney, 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 

[43] 


jsay^yW^lffWagW^IFgBraB^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

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  ex- 
ceeding 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  be- 
sides 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,2  at  the  siege  of  their  town.  And  I  re- 
member 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 

[44] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

gEZSSZSMKmmmai^iK^^ 

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  fol- 
lowing. 

This  truce  once  concluded,  there  did  appear  immedi- 
ately, 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  cos- 
tume 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 

[45] 


BflafifflEwwwyayfflft 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  stal- 
wart 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  Com- 
manders 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  gal- 
lantly 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 !  In  the  reign  of  our 
good  King  Francis  I.,  the  town  of  Saint-Riquier  in 
Picardy  was  attempted  and  assailed  by  a  Flemish  gen- 
tleman, 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  hun- 
dred 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 

[46] 


jfrW^flf/^lfrW^t!^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


^lv8/Ji^t^84H^i^lj§^ 


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  re- 
tire. 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  Peronne  3  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  sover- 
eign. 

The  women  of  Sancerre  *  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 
Vitre  6  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,  broth- 
ers, kinsfolk  and  the  soldiery  generally  cease  shooting  at 
the  foe,  for  lack  of  strings  to  their  bows,  these  being  all 

[47] 


y^iMvir^t?^fr8\iry8tiriOT>8wrt^r^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  adorn- 
ment 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  6  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  hav- 
ing 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  treat- 
ment 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  may- 
hap have  saved  alive  a  gallant  brother  of  theirs,  which 

[48] 


E3^aaaii^^ffiw^i?rai^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


J!^im^!^4J^a8^4t»Jl^!M^ 


was  undone  for  lack  of  help  and  timely  succour  of  the 
sort. 


5. 

OW  am  I  fain  to  have  done  with  the  considera- 
tion 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 *  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  lamen- 
tation 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,2  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 

[49] 


gW^yfflffWWWStBTW^IJ^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

ffli^JKaglOBSSBBSik!^^ 

slave  of  her  conqueror.  And  so  it  was  that  by  reason 
of  the  heavy  weight  of  her  jewels  and  chains  she  was  con- 
strained 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  pris- 
oner as  she  was,  she  could  yet  give  the  law  to  her  triumph- 
ant conqueror,  and  thus  make  him  tarry  and  wait  her 
pleasure  till  that  she  had  recovered  breath!  A  great  in- 
stance 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  thereta 
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  eve- 
ning of  her  fortunes  no  less  than  she  had  done  in  the 
morning-tide  of  the  same,  and  let  them  see  how  the  Em- 
peror 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 

[50] 


K^iSf^ffWT^S^m^ST^T^S^^^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

ffi^'i^ggaia^i&gi&as^ffly^ 

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  pop- 
ulace in  all  the  perfection  of  her  charms.  Furthermore, 
His  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 

[51] 


P?WWWWfflgWg|gWWIgWfflff^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

SKJSMIMayilMlMIMI^^^ 

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  pov- 
erty 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  cour- 
age 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  pros- 
perity and  glorying,  hold  triumph  therein  at  Rome.  For 
her  ambition  was  to  conquer  and  subdue  the  Roman  Em- 
pire! 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 

[52] 


fcWftXvm^MMra^^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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,8 
when  in  his  captivity  he  did  beseech  him  to  have  pity  on 
him,  answering  him  he  should  have  seen  to  that  before- 
hand, 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 

[53] 


r/8\1fr8\ir/iW*YitoW«W*W«W^ 


Jl»WI>M!^l»y^t^4^4l^^l^ 


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 4  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,6  when  shut  up  and  besieged  in  Hennebon.  For 
albeit  her  men  were  brave  and  valiant,  and  had  quit  them- 
selves 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  cour- 
age 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  sub- 
ject, I  will  add  yet  another  little  tale: 

During  the  late  Wars  of  the  League,  the  Prince  de 
Conde,  since  deceased,  being  at  Saint-Jean,  did  send  to 

[54] 


LIVES    OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


!»ir^MM.Y8rtfr»i!r«ifr^^ 


VWJlW^^!^^!^4l^!^t^!^^^^ 


demand  of  Madame  de  Bourdeille,6  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  render- 
ing 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  Coun- 
tess, 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  be- 

[55] 


.......      .      .      .      .      *      .........      .      .      .      »      »: 


imsmmm^'ww'w-ww'w 


sieged  in  that  her  good  town  fortress  by  Caesar  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  Signer  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  re- 
pute 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  at- 
tention 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,  daughter  of  the  Comte  de  Penth- 
ievre,  who  was  besieged  in  Roye  by  the  Comte  de  Charo- 
lais,  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  Compiegne,  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, 

[56] 


^ffraigWSaff^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

aiyiifeaiyajyiiiyfi&aty^ 

whom  he  held  guilty  of  having  tried  to  work  his  death 
by  black  arts  and  sundry  evil  devices  of  images  and 
candles. 

Richilda,7  only  daughter  and  heiress  of  Mons  in  Hai- 
nault,  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  ad- 
ministration 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  battles8  against 
Count  Robert.  In  the  first  she  was  taken  prisoner,  as 
was  likewise  her  foe,  the  said  Count  Robert,  but  after- 
ward 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.9  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  pres- 
ently 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  con- 
fined 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. 

[57] 


LIVES    OF    FAIR    AND    GALLANT     LADIES 


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  Leonor,  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  dero- 
gate 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  Leonor  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 

[58] 


EftflfrsfflyW^iffl^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


J!teqi^t>«4^1^1^1^l^l^l^t^l>^ 


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  con- 
gruous 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,  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  dam- 
sels, 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  Primis- 
laus,  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 

[59] 


BntlrrMWwwflBfWflltrK^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


^i^igfliw^i^i^ 


an  act  and  dread  attempt,  no  less  indeed  than  to  destroy 
the  human  race  itself. 


6. 


HITS  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  un- 
sullied of  this  ambition,  to  wit  Vittoria  Colonna,1  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  pas- 
sage) 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 

[60] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

aiiaa&afeaiyiifii^ii^^ 

Kings  of  the  earth.  She  then  went  on :  non  con  grandeza 
de  los  reynos,  de  Estados  ny  de  hermosos  titulos,  sino 
con  f£  ttlustre  y  clara  virtud,  se  alcancava  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 
mono,  mas  en  paz  con  gran  honra  de  animo  no  vencido, 
havia  sabido  veneer  reyes,  y  grandissimos  prncipes,  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.  And  indeed 

[61] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


^!^i^t^l^^l*84K^t^t^l^t^t^ 


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  country- 
women. We  had,  in  our  War  of  the  League,  Madame  de 
Montpensier,  sister  of  the  late  Due  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's1  house  and 
picture,  as  we  have  seen  done,  and  I  do  hope  to  relate 

[62] 


gwwiKMgWti^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

mmaMioiMgmMiftmma^^^ 

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  dis- 
guised 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 

[63] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

^fca^a^By»i&£*K*!iB^^^ 

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  suf- 
ficient 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  blessed- 
ness of  God's  heaven!"  Later  again,  softening  still  fur- 
ther her  words  and  bitter  cries,  and  finding  some  surcease 
of  sorrow,  she  would  say  naught  else  but  only,  "Ah!  my 

[64] 


;y^liffil^r7s\1t/8\1i?8ai^tyivtt^^ 


awawvw&sms&SKi&iS^ 


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  Due  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,  which  was  away  in  the  neighbour- 
hood 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 

[65] 


y«v.r^iy«WA\iiY«\it»fflft^ 


»  ...  .....   ..   ».••••   .   ..   .   ,   •  wA\s^iyg^JS£j$&w»s)9ti 


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  pris- 
oner, and  treated  as  she  is  this  day."  Then  with  these 
words,  she  did  go  on  her  way,  without  further  remon- 
strance. 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  Caesar'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 
Due  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  unpun- 
ished? Oh  God!  an  if  thou  art  just,  as  thou  must  needs 

[66] 


iMwrfcW«>mw«W4Mi/W 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  ray  sins,  His  will  be  done,  and  we  should  glorify 
him  therefor.  But  an  if  it  come  from  other,  seeing  ven- 
geance 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,  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. 

|HE  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 

[67] 


fiTfflyffliTRW?rMWMWK 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

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  Cipierre1  was  keen  in  urging  the  same 
course.  Yet  was  the  hour  of  execution  now  drawing  nigh, 
without  aught  being  done, — to  the  astonishment  of  every- 
body. 

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  him- 
self at  the  Queen's  feet,  and  did  earnestly  beseech  her 
to  give  the  poor  gentleman  his  life,  begging  and  pray- 
ing 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, 

[68] 


BraBrwBrSiyflffratyf'W™^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


Jt^l3^^l*S!i^l^l>8il^!^ 


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,  cun- 
ning, cautious  and  skilful,  famous  and  withal  most  cour- 
teous, 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  mis- 
creant 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, 

[69] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT    LADIES 


^t^agai^i^i^^^'^txg^^^ 


among  whom  he  doth  presently  win  such  esteem  and  re- 
nown 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  be- 
praise  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  Dues  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  suf- 
ficient 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."  Nathe- 
less,  under  the  rose,  she  knew  well  enough  how  to  stir  the 
fire,  which  did  long  burn  so  fierce. 

[70] 


JTOS^fflTOIgW/SWySBg^WraB^Bg^iHg^a^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


Many  folks  have  wondered  greatly,  how  the  King,  that 
was  so  wise  and  one  of  the  most  adroit  men  of  his  King- 
dom, 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  Marechal  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  per- 
suade 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.  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  Marechal  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 

[71] 


BF^ffirag^Bfiffif^lffaffglff^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

aa^aiaafeafegi&ai^^ 

were  framing  the  famous  League,  and  she  would  be  exam- 
ining 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  after- 
ward. 


8. 

JN  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  Ro- 
mance called  la  Conquista  de  Navarra,  "The 
Conquest  of  Navarre."  a  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 

[72] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  ex- 
perience 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 ; 

[73] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  friend- 
ships, 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  be- 
haviour; 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  King- 
dom. '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  mainte- 
nance, 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 

[74] 


«/iw^.«(i&ivin8ffiyitir^r/8^^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

Estates  at  Blois,  their  Majesties  did  cause  a  slight  repri- 
mand 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  al- 
lowed 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  bette- 
bouche,  "Lords  and  Ladies  of  Frank  Speech;"  but  many 
and  many  a  time  did  their  frank  speech  bring  them  in  sore 
trouble. 

[75] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


9. 

|AVING  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  dis- 
played at  their  death.  Without  borrowing  any  instance 
of  Antiquity,  I  will  merely  adduce  that  of  the  late  de- 
ceased Queen  Regent 1  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  daugh- 
ter, did  no  less  than  her  mother  detest  these  same  harp- 
ings  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 

[76] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


Jt^lW!V«/JL^liSi!tWl^lWJ^I^l&«^ 


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,  announc- 
ing my  death ;  we  must  prepare  therefor."  So  next  morn- 
ing, 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,  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, 

[77] 


SRSffTSBffifK*SBF!iSFmF^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


Jiy^'iy-iasi^^S^ig^^^ 


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  content- 
ment 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  com- 
mon, 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,  of  the  house  of  Candale,  was  at- 
tacked 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 

[78] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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,2  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  bear- 
ing ;  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  Mar- 
guerite of  France,  as  well  in  her  general  air  as  in  her  spe- 
cial 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 

[79] 


r^n^iftMftMtTitibsriirsfibe^^ 


^JJ^^is^ixvji^iiSAn^iaa^^ 


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  mat- 
ters), two  days  before  she  died,  did  send  to  summon  her 
daughter,3  and  did  make  her  a  very  good  and  pious  exhor- 
tation, 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  sick- 
ness (for  indeed  'twas  as  fair  to  look  on  as  ever),  thou 
art  yet  unchanged;  but  very  soon  death,  which  is  draw- 
ing 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 

[80] 


ySCTffflj?^^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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 

[81] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  Brantome  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  con- 
verse 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 

£82] 


y»Y.t7»if/wr^r^rriW»xir78vir^t^^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

SB&flMI&fflMI&gB^^ 

eighteen  months,  after  a  sickness  lasting  seven  months,  at 
one  time  giving  cause  for  good  hope  of  recovery,  at  an- 
other 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,  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 

[83] 


MMittffDsni .    »    *  irmvrMriTOrafOTSnratftSri^^ 


iim^m}m!VS!y3!&^ 


(for  her  husband  and  herself  had  gotten  themselves  to  be 
called  Prince  and  Princess  of  Cambrai  and  Cambresis, — 
a  title  sundry  nations  did  find  odious  and  much  too  pre- 
sumptuous, 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  dis- 
grace." '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  fogetting  the  memory  of  this  gallant  lady, 
he  did  re-wed  with  the  sister  of  Madame  de  Monceaux,*  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. 

[84] 


Brefflfttlffti!frwyffi^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


'jix»yj:wjiwjiy»4^m»4t,yy^ 


10. 

JF  this  sort  of  death  I  will  allege  only  the 
instance  of  Mile,  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  Defaite  des  Suisses  (Switzers*  Rout)1  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  French- 
men driven  out  altogether  from  the  State  of  Milan ;  so  sore 
a  hate  he  bare  us! 

[85] 


y^ifrs\ifoTifr8vit?8tit?8ritnwt^t?8vi^ 


;]i^a^!^i^i^«SJtx»4t^!^^ixv4^ 


The  late  Grand  Prior,  M.  de  Lorraine,  did  one  time 
conceive  the  wish  to  send  a  pair  of  his  Galleys  on  an  expe- 
dition 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  ("Bas- 
ket") 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  over- 
come. 

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 

[86] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

fafi^ifea&Jiiiytii^iiiiaai^^ 

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  lend- 
ing 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 

[87] 


ST^rjfflTWff^ff^B?^!?^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

ais^ti&^iiiyiifeasaffl&ai&^^ 

answer,  "And  who  be  they  which  have  told  my  Lord  I 
would  take  naught  ?"  Then  being  surrounded  by  a  count- 
less 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,  ar- 
tisans, 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  rigma- 
role,— 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  be- 
cause she  was  fain  so  to  discharge  her  conscience.  Any- 
how, she  did  actually,  with  clear  conscience  and  true  re- 
pentance, confess  and  ask  forgiveness  for  her  sins,  detail- 

[88] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

jii^m^t^y^m^^a^^ 

ing  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  like- 
wise 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  Morte- 
mar,  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 

[89] 


w^f^^^^^^ii^sa?yitff^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


'•V»'LVg/'Ug«l»«l^L»Ul«<lHV8/»Vg/Jw 


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. 


[90] 


SIXTH  DISCOURSE 

now    we    6houul    UCAJCT    apcaJc  iu  of  txaaica,   on3  of 

j  j  j 

aocmxJA  ol  do  3oina. 


1. 

|NE  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 

[91] 


?»S"AViMMr/«irfcxii>w&»it^ 


J^l^li«il^l^Hi8^^t^|i8*B^^ 


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-bear- 
ing,— herein  differing  widely  from  those  of  earlier  Sov- 
ereigns, their  predecessors,  alway  excepting  that  of  Louis 
XL,  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.1  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  com- 
ing 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  2  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 

[92] 


fo^t^t^fom^ffivi^t^iTsvit^r/ffif^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

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."  And  indeed  he  did  never  really  love  her  but 
to  have  an  heir  of  her;  and  when  he  had  gotten  this,  he 
made  scarce  nay  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  chief est  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 

[93] 


^ 
LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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.  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  tourna- 
ments 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 

[94] 


ff^^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


IVVJlXVJt^t^lXSl^^l^t^l^liS^^ 


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  him- 
self 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  ad- 
ministration of  the  Kingdom.  Thus  putting  off  his  griev- 
ance 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 

[95] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

•jB^i^^&afea^i^^ 

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  con- 
nection 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  scan- 
dal; and  the  more  'tis  stirred,  the  more  doth  it  stink, 
exactly  as  vile  stench  waxeth  worse,  the  more  it  is  dis- 
turbed. 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 

[96] 


r?*^r/Kr?fitf?ffir?»ir?Kt^i^^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


J^lWttmWUJMl^l^^Jl^lSSB^^^ 


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  ex- 
press, 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.  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  Brizam- 
bourg,  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 

[97] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  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  gentle- 
man 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. 

HESE  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'Al- 

[98] 


ifr\Tff?^mffVnf/^TTf/\tTT/\W 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

IM^iSiuyym^^ 

banic,  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.  Mean- 
time 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 

[99] 


sy^iygig^ig^ig^tff^ffrai^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

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  U  peccato  dl  lussuria 
(the  sin  of  lasciviousness?).  I  should  damn  mine  own 
soul;  I  cannot  do  it!"  Hereupon  the  three  ladies,  per- 
ceiving at  last  'twas  a  case  of  scampishness  and  knavery, 
and  that  M.  d'Albanie  had  played  a  trick  on  them,  de- 
clared, "  'Tis  not  of  that  we  speak,  Holy  Father ;  we  but 
ask  permission  to  eat  meat  on  prohibited  days." — Hear- 
ing these  words,  the  Due  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  con- 
cerned, namely :  Madame  de  Chasteau-B  riant  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'Uzes  *  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 

[100] 


BraBr^g^YW/Stlg^BrasraHrafly^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


wjiw/wawwtm^w^iimw^^ 


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  pres- 
ently 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  Mile.  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  concern- 
ing 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 

[101] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

mj^fliiyaa^i&fli&fli&flii^^ 

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  her- 
self 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 

[102] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

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  en- 
gagements, 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 

[103] 


fi^y^tsygsragraBraBrfti?^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

ggyaiya&aiMiMift^i^^ 

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 
set  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  abun- 
dant 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 

[104] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

Jia^SMlMiMKa&fflMlMlMli^li^^ 

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 

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.  Travel- 
ling 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 

[105] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


JliMP«JJv»4t»Jl^iX«Jl^l«4^ 


her  fairly  by  the  head,  and  in  spite  of  her  struggles  did 
kiss  her  two  or  three  times  over.  And  albeit  she  did  pro- 
test sore  with  many  cries  and  exclamations  both  in  Portu- 
guese 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  Prin- 
ces 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 

[106] 


fir«tiifitf;ytfirfcW«Y«Y«w^^ 


ll^L^W<X^liMtX^m»4^l^t^!^ 


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  Mile,  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  gen- 
erally, 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  al- 
lied 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,  a  brave  and  gallant  gentleman  much 
loved  of  the  King,  and  a  kinsman  of  Madame  de  Valen- 
tinois,  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  at- 
tacked one  of  the  Queen's  maids  of  honour,  another, 

[107] 


^1Y<ftW»W»W»W«YiY»WM1^^^ 


J!^^IJ!m^l^l»^^!iS^I^IS«!^^^ 


known  by  the  name  of  "big  Meray,"  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, 
Meray ;  you're  a  great  war-horse,  and  should  be  barded  !"2 
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  kins- 
woman 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 

[108] 


^*YitoW4\ir«\itoW»w^i^^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


llVWAMia^/Ji^LVWll^l^^ 


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  con- 
fusion, 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-Guerin,  one  of  the  Dau- 
phin'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 
[109] 


/AirAW«w»\irAWfr»ir«^ 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND    GALLANT     LADIES 


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  in- 
formed 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  an- 
swer: "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  con- 
sult 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 

[110] 


/»w«ir/»'r/svirAYMwr^^^ 


LIVES    OF    FAIR    AND    GALLANT     LADIES 

itayt^yav^ya&^^K^^ 

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! 


[Ill] 


y^i?aiy*Y.r/»'.yrtiyrtri'8rtr^^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


3. 

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;1 
'twas  said  however  the  thing  was  done  under 
promise  of  marriage,  though  later  the  contrary  was  as- 
certained 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,  with- 
out making  any  further  noise  or  scandal  about  the  mat- 
ter, he  did  the  same  evening  at  the  Royal  ball,  chose  her 
as  his  partner  and  lead  her  out  to  dance  the  torch-dance  2 
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  re- 
peat 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  preg- 

[112] 


i/8\i:/WY»\1toW»>1toW*W»W»W 


:4l®*!ffi^B^^!^!Si^ 


nancy;  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,  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." 

[113] 


y«Y,rrfrit?8\ir/»rir4\ir^ty»Wrt^ 


jw4tv»yjt^!.vvj!^i^w::\»  .o»  :^^^ 


Her  son,  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  ex- 
penditure. 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  gentle- 
men be  in  question.  Like  that  Queen  of  the  Amazons  I 
have  named  above,  which  came  a  journey  of  three  hun- 
dred 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  how- 
ever was  so  short  as  that  spiteful  folks  had  no  time  even 
to  begin  speaking  ill  of  ladies.  Not  that  we  are  to  be- 
lieve, 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 

[114] 


!®1f®^if5Sir/s«^S^^ 


ji^v«j^iJ^!i«fl^wK^i^tm^^ 


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  some- 
thing else.  The  King  heard  of  this  speech,  and  the  noble- 
men 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  Tiger3 
— modelled  on  the  first  invective  of  Cicero  against  Cati- 
line,— especially  as  it  spake  freely  of  the  amours  of  a 
very  great  and  fair  lady,  and  a  great  nobleman,  her  kins- 
man. 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  gentle- 
man, 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 
[115] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIISS 

afeaifeaayaii^H&aa^i^^ 

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,  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  prede- 
cessors. 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  hum- 
blest gentleman  of  the  Court. 

In  his  reign  the  great  lampoonists  did  first  begin  their 
vogue,  and  amongst  them  even  some  very  gallant  gentle- 

[116] 


y^r?^r^ir?^ir^i?rtr?«W^ir^^ 


'Ag^t^l^^km^!^^^ 


men  of  the  Court,  whose  names  I  will  not  give,  did 
strangely  abuse  the  ladies,  both  in  general  and  in  particu- 
lar, and  even  some  of  the  greatest  in  the  land.  For  this 
some  of  them  have  found  themselves  entangled  in  down- 
right 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.  JTis 
a  thing  which  hath  oft  given  me  great  surprise  that  such- 
like 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  be- 
ing gallant  swordsmen;  but  in  this  matter  they  would 
aye  endure  all  but  the  extremest  insult  bravely  and  with- 
out 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.*  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  scan- 
dalous I  have  ever  seen,  in  the  which  they  did  compare 
her  to  five  or  six  of  the  chiefest  harlots  of  Antiquity,  and 

[117] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  them- 
selves 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  con- 
tain 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  rea- 
son 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.  JTwas  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  migjit  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 

[118] 


Kwaga 


\irAAir/wr/»irA\ir^ifowr^^ 


,'^^v8ttt»^^^!.v&'!^!s^^ 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  con- 
tributed 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. 
On  the  contrary  many  men's  revenge  is  just  the  opposite 
in  its  nature,  for  ardent  and  hot  enough  at  its  first  begin- 
ning 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  at- 
tempt, 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  say- 
ing '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 

[119] 


;/ii\i.Yi&M/»itow«wi«ir*ii^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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,6  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  cer- 
tainly 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  wan- 
ton, 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) 

[120] 


fttifrsrit/hxirrsttAWrtiW]^ 


^•>4lJWl>8«l>WtiMl»Ul^lV^!^l^l«^ 


but  only  to  have  her  so  seen  offering  herself  in  open  mar- 
ket, 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  pene- 
trate their  secret  wishes.  'Tis  said  he  did  sometimes  re- 
veal 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  need- 
ful, 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  pay- 
ing 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 

[121] 


rrrtr/svirrrtrTSritTSritrftfrMMMfrsvi^ 


;.'lV»yjlV»4>X»4!^!^J^!^I^J!^^ 


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.6 

Accordingly  I  do  now  say  no  more  about  him,  albeit  it 
may  be  objected  to  me  that  I  have  been  but  chary  of  ex- 
amples 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  beau- 
teous 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 

[122] 


ii/8\iiY^r/W./'*WiMr/'^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  fail- 
ing 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  jeal- 
ousy, without  other  cause  than  this,  do  speak  ill  of  those 
men  whom  women  love  the  most,  and  of  the  very  women 

[123] 


g^ffiwwwggywwwsfflrwgwwgBfw^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT 


i^'ig^aifl^eia^ai*^ 


whom  they  themselves  love  fondly  until  they  see  their 
faults  fully  revealed.  And  this  is  one  of  the  chiefest  ef- 
fects 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,  broth- 
ers, 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  de- 
tractors 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. 

[124] 


r?i^r?*W«W^t^foWartfrivlM<l^^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


^t^'tWa>8W^>g(H^t^t^^ 


Verily  the  content  of  a  man  is  great  at  these  satisfac- 
tions. 

For  to  tell  truth,  what  would  it  advantage  a  great  Cap- 
tain 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  opin- 
ion was  that  prince  of  lovers,  M.  de  Nemours,  the  para- 
gon 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  diffi- 
culty 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, 
which  being  lover  of  a  very  great  lady,  and  finding  himself 
one  day  in  company  of  a  number  of  his  comrades  in  dis- 
course 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,  al- 

[125] 


vs\iiY«Vii/i\iy«wao>»a^ 


agflty^ly^l^^^i^l^l^^^ 


though  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  after- 
ward 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  Bourdaisiere.7  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  may  stages  he  had 
made.  The  husband  replied  five.  As  it  fell  out,  there 
was  also  there  present  an  honourable  gentleman,  a  Secre- 
tary, which  was  then  in  the  very  highest  favour  with  a 
very  great  Princess,  whose  name  I  will  not  give,  who  here- 
upon 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  'Id  be  for  having  birds  enough 
to  your  bag,  it  seems!" — "And  prithee,  why  not?"  re- 
torted 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, 

[126] 


va\tosa/8ti»rty*Yit^^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  bril- 
liant an  adventure,  whereof  trouble  and  scandal  were  ex- 
ceeding 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  ex- 
hibit 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  dis- 
gusted 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  vexa- 
tion, 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 

[127] 


WVSrm*SSFS3F!iBRi6F!SF!Stt^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

fl^l^tyil&giMIMlK*^^ 

the  dice  the  portrait  of  a  fair  and  honourable  lady.  But 
the  Lord  did  soon  set  the  matter  in  a  better  light,  de- 
claring 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  complacen- 
cies. 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. 

In  certain  quarters,  the  which  I  will  not  name,  the  sol- 
diery 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  down- 
right good  at  a  main  too !"  By  dint  of  these  aspersions 
and  bywords  were  the  said  Princesses  cause  of  rousing 

[128] 


Y^r?*sir^r^"?^r/aflr?rt^r?irtrrrtr/8\i^^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


JWilWWWJ^WJlW^^ 


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  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. 

|ATO  could  never  stomach  Caesar  from  that 
day  when  in  the  Senate,  which  was  deliber- 
ating as  to  measures  against  Catiline  and  his 
conspiracy,  Caesar  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  Caesar  with  Cati- 
line, did  cry  out  loud  that  the  Senate  should  order  him 
to  show  the  communication  in  question.  Thus  con- 
strained, Caesar  made  the  said  letter  public,  wherein  the 
honour  of  the  other's  sister  was  brought  into  sore  scan- 
dal and  open  disrepute.  I  leave  you  then  to  imagine  if 
Cato,  for  all  the  fine  airs  he  did  affect  of  hating  Caesar 

[129] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

for  the  Republic's  sake,  could  ever  come  to  like  him,  in 
view  of  this  most  compromising  incident.  Yet  was  it  no 
fault  of  Caesar'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  Caesar  was  commonly  re- 
puted 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  be- 
twixt 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  author- 
ity 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, 

[130] 


LIVES    OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

"Ah!  my  dear  Lord,  an  if  you  speak  of  this,  I  am  un- 
done ;  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  ex- 
ceeding 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  assas- 
sinated, 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 

[131] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  start- 
ing, 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  mis- 
tress 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  re- 
frain 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  Prin- 
cess died  some  while  after,  that  the  Prince,  on  his  coming 
back  from  abroad,  would  surely  have  married  her. 

I  knew  yet  another  Prince,1  though  not  so  great  an  one, 
which  during  his  first  wife's  lifetime  and  during  his  widow- 
hood, did  come  to  love  a  very  fair  and  honourable  damsel 
of  the  great  world,  to  whom  he  did  make,  in  their  court- 
ing 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 

[132] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


;mmvw^ixvji^wjwjwwM^ 


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  bet- 
ter, she  did  take  a  pen  and  ink,  and  did  scrawl  inside  a 
great  pair  of  horns  for  him  right  in  the  mid  of  the  fore- 
head. 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  gew- 
gaws 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 

[133] 


'MwmatitiKmtit^fsmsatiKi^^ 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

aMiM^V-tfrv^i^ifs^iyti^^ 

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  despera- 
tion the  poor  lady,  the  which  had  well  earned  such  pres- 
ents 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,  notwithstand- 
ing 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  Chas- 
teaubriand,  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 

[134] 


fcwrtYrtrrsvifri^Yrtr^itTStf/tttt^ 


^^4!^^pw®n^'t«a!^i^i^i^^ 


same,  for  in  those  days  pearls  and  precious  stones  had  not 
the  vogue  they  have  since  gotten,  but  for  liking  of  the 
graceful  mottoes  which  had  been  set,  imprinted  and  en- 
graven thereon,  the  which  the  Queen  of  Navarre,  his  sis- 
ter, 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  her- 
self 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  my- 
self." 

When  the  King  had  received  the  whole,  ingots  and  mes- 
sage 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. 

[135] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

aiSafflgagia^iifi^afegiiy^  • 

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.  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, 

[136] 


artrtfo\ir«viy^^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  gos- 
sip 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  tra- 
duced, 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  mat- 
ter of  scandal-making;  myself  have  seen  not  a  few  ex- 
amples thereof  in  my  day,  and  some  be  found  still. 

[137] 


.         *         .  '•:.        .44......         4.         .».«         •«•**«. 


a!^t^&m*<y!ii^!a®^!^!^l®J^ 


In  the  time  of  King  Charles  was  writ  a  lampoon  at 
Fontainbleau,  most  base  and  scurrilous,  wherein  the  fellow 
did  spare  neither  the  Royal  Princesses  nor  the  very  great- 
est 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  de- 
nials. 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. 

|N  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 

[138] 


r7i?,te\iy*w*irAA^ 


u/^£&sy^vs£i^&9&^ 


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  an- 
other, 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  rep- 
resented 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  chief est  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 

[139] 


f^f^r*irfcSi^ii^rr«^r^ 


^>amga!il8<it>i^»4t>^t«a?^ 


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  Caesar  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, 

[140] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


did  desire  should  marry.  Well  !  first  of  all  he  was  for  mak- 
ing 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  won- 
ders 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  cur- 
rent 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 

[141] 


•'-•Sh/*sir/»ir?»i:r^ir^^ 


'JWJ;.mv^!»g^|^^!3iSU^ 


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  rea- 
son why,  and  yet  others  find  themselves  actually  para- 
lysed. 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  ama- 
teurs 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  daugh- 
ter she  had,  and  having  promised  the  same  in  marriage  to 
an  honourable  gentleman,  avant  que  de  1'y  faire  entrer 
et  craignant  qu'elle  ne  put  souffrir  ce  premier  et  dur 
effort,  a  quoi  on  disait  le  gentilhomme  etre  tres  rude  et 
fort  proportionne,  elle  la  fit  essayer  premierement  par  un 
jeune  page  qu'elle  avait,  assez  grandet,  une  douzaine  de 
fois,  disant  qu'il  n'y  avait  que  la  premiere  ouverture 
facheuse  a  faire  et  que,  se  faisant  un  peu  douce  et  petite 
au  commencement,  qu'elle  endurerait  la  grande  plus 
aisement;  comme  il  advint,  et  qu'il  y  put  avoir  de  1'ap- 
parence.  Get  essai  est  encore  bien  plus  honnete  et  moins 
scandaleux  qu'un  qui  me  fut  dit  une  fois,  en  Italic,  d'un 
pere  qui  avait  marie  son  fils,  qui  £tait  encore  un  jeune  sot, 
avec  une  fort  belle  fille  a  laquelle,  tant  fat  qu'il  £tait,  il 
n'avait  rien  pu  faire  ni  la  premiere  ni  la  seconde  nuit  de 
ses  noces;  et  comme  il  eut  demand^  et  au  fils  et  a  la  nore 
comme  ils  se  trouvaient  en  mariage  et  s'ils  avaient 
triomphe,  ils  repondirent  Pun  et  1'autre:  "Niente. — A 

[142] 


rfr^rafti^tafiffiiRii^^^^ 


/4ivy^^'i^^ia<«>ifll^l^tigfl^ 


quoi  a-t-il  tenu?"  demanda  a  son  fils.  H  repondit  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  done  montrer  comme  il  faut  faire."  Et  fit 
coucher  sa  nore  sur  un  bout  de  lit,  et  lui  fait  bien  elargir 
les  jambes,  et  puis  dit  a  son  fils:  "Or  vois  comment  je 
fais,"  et  dit  a  sa  nore:  "Ne  bougez,  non  importe,  il  n'y 
a  point  de  mal."  Et  en  mettant  son  membre  bien  arbore" 
dedans,  dit:  "Avise  bien  comme  je  fais  et  comme  je  dis, 
Dentro  fuero,  dentro  fuero,"  et  repliqua  souvent  ces  deux 
mots  en  s'avan9ant  dedans  et  reculant,  non  pourtant  tout 
dehors.  Et  ainsi,  apres  ces  frequentes  agitations  et 
paroles,  dentro  et  fuero,  quand  ce  vint  a  la  consommation, 
il  se  mit  a  dire  brusquement  et  vite:  Dentro,  dentro, 
dentro,  dentro,  jusqu'a  ce  qu'il  eut  fait.  Au  diable  le 
mot  de  fuero.  Et  par  ainsi,  pensant  faire  du  magister, 
il  fut  tout  a  plat  adultere  de  sa  nore,  laquelle,  ou  qu'elle 
fit  de  la  niaise  ou,  pour  mieux  dire,  de  la  fine,  s'en  trouva 
tres  bien  pour  ce  coup,  voire  pour  d'autres  que  lui  donna 
le  fils  et  le  pere  et  tout,  possible  pour  lui  mieux  apprendre 
sa  le^on,  laquelle  il  ne  uli  voulut  pas  apprendre  a  demi 
ni  a  moitie,  mais  a  perfection.  Aussi  toute  Ie9on  ne  vaut 
rieu  autrement. 

I  have  heard  many  enterprising  and  successful  Love- 
laces 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  pleas- 
ure, as  if  about  to  expire  outright,  and  let  themselves 

[143] 


faw«w>w»^r7ifiwrtiy^t?i?irftxit?8ti 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


::  •  :!A»yj:»/tf>8t!l^lvW!V^^^ 


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  oui  dire,  laquelle,  alors  que  son  ami  la  tenait  em- 
brassee  et  investie  sur  le  bord  de  son  lit,  quand  ce  vint 
sur  la  douce  fin  qu'il  eut  acheve"  et  que  par  trop  il 
s'etendait,  il  avait  par  cas  des  escarpins  neufs  qui  avaient 
la  semelle  glissante,  et  s'appuyant  sur  des  carreaux 
plombes  dont  la  chambre  etait  pavee,  qui  sont  fort  sujets 
a  faire  glisser,  il  vint  a  se  couler  et  glisser  si  bien  sans  se 
pouvoir  arreter  que,  du  pourpoint  qu'il  avait,  tout  recon- 
vert de  clinquant,  il  en  ecorcha  de  telle  fa9on  le  ventre,  la 
motte  le  cas  et  les  cuisses  de  sa  maitresse  que  vous  eussiez 
dit  que  les  griff es  d'un  chat  y  avaient  passe ;  ce  qui  cuisait 

[144] 


3??wwfflgwsi??wffljfWftigW5^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


i^l^t>8W»jMflt>8<«y4IJ8^ 


si  fort  la  dame  qu'elle  en  fit  un  grand  cri  et  ne  s'en  put 
garder ;  mais  le  meilleur  flit  que  la  dame,  parce  que  c'etait 
en  ete  et  faisait  grand  chaud,  s'etait  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  calecons  k  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,  when- 
ever 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  some- 
times 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 

[145] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    ANDGALLANT     LADIES 

j^^yBgg»fl95^ti&gBkflK^B^^ 

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  Span- 
ish 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,1  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  pres- 
ence of  the  Empress ;  whereas,  had  it  been  merely  in  the 
Emperor's,  no  such  great  ado  would  have  been  made. 

The  Due  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; 

[146] 


.    *    M^rwiw«>iviiy»iw8\ii7i\iiwr^ 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  some- 
what to  remember.  It  did  so  fall  out  one  time  to  a  Fool 
called  Legat,  whom  I  once  knew  myself.  Queen  Elizabeth 
of  France  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  thou- 
sand 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 

[147] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

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  thou- 
sand naughty  conceits  and  lusty  words.  These  the  peas- 
ants 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  inti- 
macies with  their  own  coachmen,  pages,  lackeys  and  ap- 
paritors, 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  disguis- 
ing. 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 

[148] 


toM^r/8\ir^rr»W«W»W»mw*W4W^^ 


!lw&WJ!Wtt«/4lV^!^l^^^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  repug- 
nance to  their  husbands  for  this  cause  and  would  even 
very  often  refuse  them  the  pleasures  they  had  erst  af- 
forded 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  dominae. 

(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.) 

[149] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

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  en- 
nobled the  subject  better  far.  To  such  I  do  pass  on 
hereby  mine  arms  and  pen. 


[150] 


SEVENTH    DISCOURSE 

/7)  C 

V^oncctninci  mattic3   vwomen,   wtSowa  ana  *i 

vJuon  of  tocde  dame  <oc  ucttcr  tnan  tnc  otJW  to  tow. 

«J 

INTRODUCTION 

|NE  day  when  I  was  at  the  Court  of  Spain  at 
Madrid,  and  conversing  with  a  very  honour- 
able 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  bluda,  el  de  la 
casada,  o  de  la  hija  moca, — "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  mocas  con  el  hervor  de  la  sangre,  se  dis- 
ponen  a  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  viot 
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 

[151] 


l^l^l^MfeWtilfr^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

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  ff  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,  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  other- 
wise 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  exer- 
cise, 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 

[152] 


tffifffitosaasMsaM^^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  venge- 
ful 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  eat- 
ing 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  ex- 
perienced in  the  past  the  secrets  of  passion,  doth  never 
love  steadfastly,  but  always  doubtfully  and  tentatively, 
quickly  changing  and  desiring  now  one,  now  another  gal- 
lant, never  knowing  to  which  she  should  give  herself  for 

[153] 


yAira\iiAW*v..Y*ii/iw«u^^ 


iixg^tss^tiS^^l^i^i^i^i^ 


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  ques- 
tion, doth  thus  conclude:  That  the  widow  is  more  pains- 
taking 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  com- 
plaisances 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 

[154] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

no  fear  of  her  person  being  looked  at,  or  her  virtue  im- 
pugned by  the  discovery  of  any  mark  of  lapse  from  hon- 
our; 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  experi- 
ence and  goeth  lightly  to  others,  whereas  in  this  the  long- 
ing 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  him- 
self to  a  widow  than  to  a  maid,  as  being  far  easier  to 
gain  over  and  corrupt. 


[155] 


ARTICLE  I 

OF  THE  LOVE  OF  MARRIED   WOMEN 

|OW  to  take  and  further  consider  these  argu- 
ments of  Boccaccio,  and  expand  them  some- 
what, 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  consump- 
tion of  time;  for,  as  Boccaccio  saith,  the  more  a  fire  is 
stirred,  the  more  ardent  doth  it  grow.  And  'tis  the  mar- 
ried 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 

[156] 


»?w^griigsffi?Ws?!gW^w^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


aa/jMffl^^i^i^i^tffiJi^^i^ 


getting  satisfaction  enough  of  him  even,  she  would  with- 
draw 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  ball- 
room, 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  an- 
other. Yet  need  we  be  in  no  way  astonished  thereat,  for 
as  said  a  Spanish  lady:  Que  quanta  mas  me  quiero  sacar 
de  la  braza,  tanto  mas  ml  marido  me  dbraza  en  el  bra- 
zero, — "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. 

[157] 


rfcXlhwraflftW&IWWffi)*^ 


^lX»4t»^»4t^l^^!^^!^l^t^ 


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  forbid- 
deth  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  con- 
tinence, 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 

[158] 


LIVES    OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  sen- 
tence pronounced  in  your  favour  for  to  content  you  in 
that  you  desire, — and  only  the  execution  doth  now  re- 
main ;"  and  this  last,  the  reading  done,  was  promptly  car- 
ried out.  A  better  sentence  i'faith  than  was  ever  given 
in  the  Bailey  Court  of  the  Paris  Parliament ! a  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  resist- 

[159] 


Mtiitftfto'fflftto^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


ance  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.  An- 
other 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 

[160] 


y»\itfffi,;avir?^r/^r^tf7«sr78^ 


!4!*M8»lfiWJSM!««t4»!e^ 


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-fa- 
voured 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  vir- 
tues, 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  Barb  a,  was  used  to 

[161] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

iiBya^ffifeglfiamfllfei^^ 

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  fool- 
ish opinion,  and  most  surely  for  her  own  part  did  very 
thoroughly  repudiate  the  same.  For  indeed  all  her  pleas- 
ure 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  her- 
self wax  dry,  lean,  and  languishing,  and  from  being  afore- 
time 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  reme- 

[162] 


.Y«\i&»ii/^itoxir/»mir^i^^ 


J!«4^lV«4lv»yi^t^t^t>|<H^!il*«il^ 


dies  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  be- 
fore,— 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  en- 
joyment. 

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  al- 
ready mentioned  in  a  previous  passage,  and  who  is  de- 
scribed 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  hon- 
ourable 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  pre  tondue  et  d'un  c.  .  .  /.  . . , 

[163] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


:t^V^iy?^4!^J!i8^»^^!^l^ 


le  dommage  est  bientot  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  Br  adamant  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  con- 
cealment and  the  keeping  of  a  confident  show  and  car- 
riage. 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. 

[164] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

atyjiiyaR^yffiyayfltyiBy^ 

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  cer- 
tain 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  argu- 
ments pleaded  on  this  side  and  that,  'twould  afford  occa- 
sion for  much  merriment  and  shrewd  debate.  For  'tis 
verily  theft,  no  less,  so  to  filch  their  benefices  and  emolu- 
ments 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 

[165] 


r/ftir/fcYnyrtiWimrorffiirrft^^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


do  run  many  risks  and  perils, — as  one  I  wot  of,  who  keep- 
ing 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,  say- 
ing 'twere  more  becoming  for  her  had  she  been  with  her 
mistress  than  to  be  playing  procuress  like  this  and  stand- 
ing 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  ap- 
peased. Natheless  she  did  never  like  him  afterward,  and 
kept  a  shrewd  eye  on  his  doings;  finally  spying  an  op- 
portunity and  taking  it  on  the  hop,  she  did  get  him  dis- 
missed by  her  husband. 

I  wot  of  a  fair  and  honourable  lady,  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  bus- 

[166] 


;rrt^t^r/»ita>ci;r8titoW4Y,r^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


band,  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  serv- 
ing 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  hus- 
band 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  gen- 
tlemen, 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  her- 
self to  this  effect.  'Twas  she,  she  said,  who  had  so  trained 
and  fashioned  them  by  her  excellent  lessons,  as  that  com- 
ing 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  su- 

[167] 


LIVES    OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


,,.,•;;,»       ,       ,       .       •;;;••..'.»  ...»    ;.».      .....       .       ...    .  .    .    l'VJ^V^|^!X?££t/JlW' 


preme  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  sur- 
prised by  her  husband  in  her  chamber  receiving  a  little 
paper  note  or  billet  donx  from  her  lover,  was  right  well 
succoured  by  her  subordinate.  For  this  last,  cleverly  in- 
tercepting 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  hare  found 
them  in  evil  case  for  having  overmuch  trusted  their  serv- 
ing 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  accord- 
ingly. One  of  her  women,  suspecting  a  snake  in  the  grass, 
and  angry  and  hurt  because  her  mistress  had  not  con- 

[168] 


Y»>r/ttr7i?r?itfr^^^  •    •    *  f*\'frs$Q<s 


J^3^|^:i®«.$/Jl^Jlv8^ 


fided  in  her,  whom  she  had  ever  made  her  chiefest  confi- 
dante, 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  op- 
portunity, 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  confi- 
dence 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 

[169] 


>4W»W»W»W»W^1Y^1i^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

jjfcffjkfflfi^ismai^ffi^^ 

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  sug- 
gestion 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. 


[170] 


ARTICLE  II 

OF    THE    LOVE    OF    MAIDS 
1. 


|O  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  begin- 
ning, 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 

[171] 


toY,M<.rft\mib«w»i^^^ 


^'^t^H^!J|^^|^4^l^}-^^^ 


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  de- 
scribed 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  her- 
self be  got  with  child  by  a  great  Prince,  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  lustful- 
ness,  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  mis- 
tress, albeit  'twas  reported  this  same  mistress  had  or- 
dered 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  pres- 
ently 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 

[172] 


rv:  .»•;••••,•  ,•."•.<•>: .  .••\"ftf»v*YiiV«\iMK»fcW«\Wi^ 


JW4^!^!««!Xm'4!^^t^ 


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  char- 
acter 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  serv- 
ing 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  publish- 
ing abroad  their  amours,  as  I  have  noted  above.  'Twas 

[178J 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

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  crea- 
tures 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,  senora  madre,  de  tal  merced,  que  bien  la  tomare 
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  quar- 
ter, was  now  about  to  travel  toward  the  setting  or  west- 
ern, 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  advan- 

[174] 


iVf\irrtfr7SYir/sxi^rtt7Stf»a7Svitxi^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


tage  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  in- 
terpret 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  des- 
patched 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  es- 
caped 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  cruel- 
ties 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 

[175] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  mat- 
ter, 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  con- 
tinence 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 

[176] 


r/»iir^r^W<fiir^i.^rfc>iiY«w«w 


:jtxmt^:-^WJ^Ma!^!^i3^^^ 


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  (mean- 
ing 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  sup- 
pose, 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  hus- 
band. But  he  did  bethink  him  to  declare  that,  and  if  he 
had  to  take  his  big  dagger,  'twould  be  another  game  alto- 
gether, 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  BO  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 

[177] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

ggysysysyaiyaiy^^a^^ 

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  antre  fille,  laquelle  s'estant 
plaincte  a  la  justice  que  un  gallant  Pay  ant  prise  par 
force,  et  lui  enquis  sur  ce  fait,  il  respondit:  "Messieurs, 
je  m'en  rapporte  a  elle  s'il  est  orai,  et  si  elle  i'a  pris  mon 
cas  et  Pa  mis  de  sa  main  propre  dans  lie  sien.  —  Ha  !  Mes- 
sieurs, (dit  la  fille)  il  est  bien  orai  cela,  mais  qu'il  ne  1'enst 
fait?  Car,  ampres  qu'il  m'ent  couchee  et  trousee,  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  ra'en 
rapporte. 

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  con- 
ditions, 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.  How- 
ever she  would  not  right  off  consent,  but  in  her  sim- 
plicity 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 

[178] 


r^li^ltoW^MMtoW^lYaY.^ 


r^^^iw^/j^iiMpwi^t^t^^ 


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  con- 
fided 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  hus- 
band's very  elbow,  who  for  the  moment  was  holding  dis- 
course with  another  lady.  The  suitor  did  suddenly  put 
son  instrument  entre  les  mains  Elle  le  prit  et,  le  serrant 
fort  etroitement  et  se  tournant  vers  son  mari,  lui  dit: 
"Mon  mariy  voyez  le  beau  present  que  me  -fait  ce  gentU- 
homme;  le  recevraije?  dites-le-moi."  Le  pauvre  gentil- 
homme,  etonne,  retire  a  soi  son  epervier  de  si,  grande 
rudesse  que,  recontrant  une  pointe  de  diamant  qu'elle 
avait  au  doigt,  le  lui  esserta  de  telle  facon  d'un  bout  a 
Vautre  qu'eUe  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 

[179] 


LIVES    OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

made  no  ado  about  running  after  him  to  utter  any  re- 
criminations 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  pun- 
ished. 

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  bar- 
gain."— "  '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,  Senor,  bien  e* 

[180] 


r*';?*\':-£'ttfri'fr^?^ 


»>M^W&WW1^\mVM\m^U$!^ 


razon  que  seays  martyr,  pues  que  io  soy  virgen;  mas  pues 
que  to  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  in- 
formed of  others,  or  have  themselves  dreamed  and  pic- 
tured 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  mtdtiplicar, — that  he  was  not  a  good  arithme- 
tician 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 

[181] 


rffir?^y?aifoWa<lt?iRlt?^^ 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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 

[182] 


rtoiy^m;r/wytfiy^ir/wtoY«^^ 


J^^1X^4!^IX^'!X»4^V«^ 


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  ur- 
gency 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  else- 
where 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  mis- 
tress 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 

[183] 


ft\irAw/t\it/sriff»iftiyM>M^ 


•^!&*a^t^t^i^i^^i^^^ 


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  es- 
capades. 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  mo- 
ment 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 

[184] 


r»Y,r/8C^r»\uVWiV8\irfc>ir«vi^ 


ywiwvs!^wiii)m&!m&^^ 


them  out  to  dance  and  teach  them  the  steps  and  be  part- 
ner 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'Es- 
trozze'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,  anaemia,  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  medi- 
cines; 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'ette 

[185] 


yrtr^iyrtiY>wii\itow«\^^  4    •    4    M&wsifiMKffi 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


<twJ[X»yj^!X»4t^!X^^!^H^lX^ 


ne  pouvait  tenir  son  eau,  elle  s'adressa  a  celui  qui  donnait 
les  antidotes  pour  engarder  d'engrosser,  car  c'est  ce  que 
les  files  craignent  le  plus:  dont  en  cela  il  y  en  a  de  si 
experts  qui  leur  donnent  des  drogues  qui  les  engardent 
tres  bien  d'engrosser;  ou  bien,  si  elles  engrossent,  leur  font 
ecouler  leur  grossesse  so  subtuement  et  si  sagement  que 
jamais  on  ne  s'en  apercoit,  et  n'en  sent-on  rien  que  le  vent. 
Ainsi  que  j'en  ai  ou'i  parler  d'une  file,  laqueUe  avait 
ete  autrefois  nourrie  ftte  de  la  feue  reine  de  Navarre 
Marguerite.  Elle  vint  par  cas  fortunt,  ou  a  engrosser 
sans  qu'elle  y  pensat  pourtant.  Elle  rencontra  un  ruse 
apothicaire,  qui,  lui  ayant  donne  un  breuvage,  lui  fit 
evader  son  fruit,  qui  avait  deja  six  mois,  piece  par  piece, 
morceau  par  morceau,  si  aisement,  qu'Stant  en  ses  affaires 
jamais  elle  n'en  sentit  ni  mal  ni  douleur;  et  puis  apres 
se  maria  galamment,  sans  que  le  mari  y  connut  aucune 
trace;  car  on  leur  donne  des  remedes  pour  se  faire  par- 
aitre  vierges  et  pucelles  comme  auparavant,  ainsi  que 
j'en  ai  attegue  un  au  DISCOUPS  DES  Cocus.  Et  un  que 
j'en  out  dire  a  un  empirique  ces  jours  passes,  qu'il  faut 
avoir  des  sangsues  et  les  mettre  a  la  nature,  et  faire  par 
la  tirer  et  sucer  le  sang:  lesquelles  sangsues,  en  sue  ant, 
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  creve  ces  ampoules  d'oti 
le  sang  sort,  et  lui  et  elle  s'ensanglantent,  qui  est  une 
grande  joie  a  I'un  et  a  I'autre;  et  par  ainsi,  1'honor  della 
citella  e  salva.  Je  trouve  ce  remede  plus  souverain  que 
I'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 
tres  bien  ordonner,  inventer  et  appliquer  ces  messieurs  les 
medecins  savants  et  experts  apothicaires.  Viola  pour- 

[186] 


Y^?^ir^mir/»ir/»iMMtow*Air/w 


y^Vf/^l^»Jtv«yjiw^»c^ 


quoi  ces  messieurs  out  ordinairement  de  tres  belles  et 
bonnes  fortunes,  car  Us  savent  blesser  et  remedier,  ainsi 
qui  fit  la  lance  de  Pelias. 

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  instruc- 
tion."— "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  dis- 
course 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 

[1871 


V^WtfcW/iffiWiitolffiitf^ 


.:^wjag^j4^H>g«i!^i>g*^ 


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 : 

He*  que  je  porte  et  de  hayne  et  d'envie 

An  medecin  qui  vient  et  matin, 

Sans  nul  propos,  tastonner  le  tetin, 

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,  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  Gon- 
zague.  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 

[188] 


r^r,mvs\"/s<Vftwrtfrgffl?ivity8tiri^ 


i^^gffj^^felfltiis^^t^^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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,  Doc- 
tor! 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. 

|  E  read  in  the  life  of  St.  Louis,  in  the  History  of 
Paulus  Aemilius,  of  a  certain  Marguerite, 
Countess  of  Flanders,  sister  of  Jeanne,  daugh- 
ter 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  Guil- 
laume,  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. 

[189] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


^m'J^JlffiJ^l^l^SaSiB^^ 


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, 
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  para- 
mours 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 

[190] 


r/sa«tfry»rtt>8a/«K^r!»irj«i^^ 


Jt.^i^t^M4i^i»qiHw^^ 


their  different  instructors  in  knowledge  and  accomplish- 
ments, and  even  sometimes  preachers  of  religion  and  holy 
monks,  as  Boccaccio  doth  describe  and  the  Queen  of 
Navarre  in  her  Nouvettes.  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.  Law- 
yers 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  op- 
portunity, they  may  not  be  able,  an  if  they  lose  him, 
to  get  another  such  as  they  would  wish.  Whereas  mar- 
ried 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 

[191] 


4         •••«»•»         .         .         .         ,         .          ,          .         .         4         .          ,         .        4  '     4         4         4*4 


^•4^!^gg!g&y^^ 


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  them- 
selves 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 

[192] 


?*W*r3Sif/itir^r?^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  per- 
sons intended;  and  many  a  time  they  will  suppose  it  to 
be  one,  though  all  the  while  'tis  quite  another. 


3. 

|OW  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  sea- 
soned 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  Lai's  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 

[193] 


LIVES  OF  FAIR  AND  GALLANT  LADIES 

ma^i&flB^iiiytii^^ 

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.1  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 

[194] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


Sll^J^I&J^l^l^aSll^l^!^^ 


have  made  him  the  same  answer  she  did  to  another  gentle- 
man 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  small- 
ness,  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  Fontaine- 
bleau,  as  she  was  a-walking  with  an  honourable  gentleman 
which  did  escort  her,  his  hand  beneath  her  arm,  did  com- 
plain that  the  said  Hercules,  albeit  excellently  well 
wrought  and  figured  otherwise,  was  not  so  well  propor- 
tioned in  all  his  members  as  should  be,  forasmuch  as  his 
middle  parts  were  far  too  small  and  out  of  proper  meas- 
ure, 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  Princess2  learning  how 
that  certain  folk  had  given  her  name  to  a  huge  great  cul- 
verin,  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  out  trouve  assez  de  remede, 
et  en  trouvent  tons  les  jours  assez  pour  rendre  leurs  portes 
plug  etroites,  carrees  et  plus  malaisees  d'entree;  dont  au- 
cunes  en  usent,  et  d'autres  non;  mats  nonobstantt  quand 
le  chemin  y  est  bien  battu  et  frayS  souvent  par  continu- 
elle  habitation  et  frequentation,  ou  passages  dyenfantst 
les  owoertures  de  plusieurs  en  sont  tou jours  plus  grandes 

[195] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


et  plus  larges.  Je  me  suis  la  un  peu  perdu  et  devoye; 
mats  puisque  c'a  etc  a  propos  il  n'y  a  point  de  mal,  et  je 
retourne  a  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  command- 
ments of  the  Lord  our  God,  that  they  do  quite  neglect  that 
of  love.  Yet  have  I  seen  many  of  these  same  devout  pat- 
terers  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  sem- 
blance 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  profes- 

[196] 


»AfflP^B?^ffi^ffl7WWAW/W/WfllJretBrWA 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

aa^ya^i^a&ffliygi^^ 

sions  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.  Any- 
way 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  persever- 
ance, 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 

[197] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

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,  tak- 
ing 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  scorn- 
ful 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  van- 
quish her  pride,  'twas  a  sight  how  she  would  snub  them 
and  send  them  packing  with  words  and  looks  and  scorn- 
ful 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  gentle- 
men 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  in- 
deed. 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, 

[198] 


affifcWiffiftflaWrttff^^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

gBBassBBffii^m^ 

"When  Greek  meets  Greek."  Yet  did  she  show  no  resent- 
ment 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  main- 
taining 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  Arro- 
gance. 

So  ever  continuing,  I  did  court  her  long  and  faith- 
fully; 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  con- 
nection 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  en- 
joyment, they  never  have  another  thought  in  their  heads 

[199] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


j^a^^i^iaa.^^ 


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  meta- 
morphosed 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  es- 
say a  woman's  pleasures  too.  Such  young  girls  do  re- 
semble 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  kill- 
ing. 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,  skip- 
ping and  jiggingj  do  always,  I  ween,  indulge  at  last  in 
dame  Venus'  gentle  sport.  In  a  word,  to  put  it  briefly, 

[200] 


vwrfcw*w^ir/»ir/jMr/ww^ 


>'t.WJ!\^!^!.V^4W4^4&ty4t^i^ 


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  lartx,  the  which  they  do  in  no  wise  re- 
semble. 

Now  this  Larix  is  a  wood  which  will  never  burn,  and 
maketh  neither  fire,  flame  nor  ash,  as  Julius  Caesar  did 
find.  On  his  return  back  from  Gaul,  he  had  ordered  the 
inhabitants  of  Piedmont  to  furnish  him  vivers,  and  estab- 
lish magazines  on  his  main  line  of  march.  He  was  duly 
obeyed,  except  by  the  garrison  of  a  castle  called  Larig- 
num,  whither  had  withdrawn  certain  ill-disposed  rascals, 
recusants  and  rebels,  the  result  being  Caesar  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  Caesar  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  Caesar  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 

[201] 


^.tyiffiffivyitiriftniffiffivys^ 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

H&aa^Bi«iM^aMfflyBi^a&^^ 

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  be- 
fore 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  pleas- 
use  or  satisfaction.  So  many  persons  I  wot  of,  of  either 
sex,  would  say;  and  indeed  Nature  would  be  left  imper- 
fect, instead  of  very  perfect  as  she  is.  Following  her 
kindly  lead  as  our  best  captain,  we  need  never  fear  to  lose 
the  right  path. 


[202] 


ARTICLE  III 

OF   THE   LOVE   OF   WIDOWS 
1. 

JELL!  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  advan- 
tageous, seeing  they  be  in  full  liberty  of  action, 
and  in  no  sense  slaves  of  fathers,  mothers,  brothers,  kins- 
men 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  Ro- 
mans, 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  de- 
clares :  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  prpsecution, 

[203] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  deliber- 
ate carefully  on  the  choice  of  a  successor.  A  truly  pater- 
nal 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  willnigness  for  another  taste  of  love 

[204] 


rfcY,iY<tfy«Y.MWr/Wr/»V^^^ 


^l^^l^V^^l^l^^i^Jl^l^Jl^ 


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  Caesar's  daugh- 
ter, 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  hand- 
somely 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  chil- 
dren. 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 

[205] 


PTKBftffi^BgWWWWWWSBrai^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

jpS^g&fflMBgBSSMlMlMl^ 

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  suc- 
cours 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  cabttlo  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 

[206] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


better  worth  than  an  hundred  husbands,  and  its  enjoy- 
ment more  desirable  and  pleasant?  Yet  is  there  no  ad- 
vantage 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.  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  mar- 
ried 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  dig- 
nity, 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.  Among 
others  was  the  Seigneur  de  Rabodanges,  a  very  old  man, 
that  had  not  been  seen  for  years  at  Court,  except  on  occa- 
sion 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,  hav- 
ing lost  his  good  master,  the  Captain  of  whose  Guard  he 

[207] 


rtftfftWrtr^iVStffeWrtrrsriiVsv^ 


^^^'^i^t^t^iism'a®!!®^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  sen- 
sible 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  in- 
deed 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  extremeity  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 

[208] 


r7^riffirAm^r/at?^!^t?^tfoir^ 


.      • :;..»..    »    .  .      .      .    .  »      t      .      »      .      t      .      .      t      «      .      .      .....      ...  ;  • 


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  beseech- 
ing 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  remon- 
strate 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 

[209] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

mmflBkHB^ffl^iii^a^ 

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  com- 
mended 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  remem- 
ber 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  pre- 
tence 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 

[210] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


uvg/jww>j»«i>Mvt>ii^ 


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  exceed- 
ingly, 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 

[211] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

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  piti- 
ful, 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 

[212] 


v«h'Y»\'r/iYJ;'«,:r/4V^VM,«\'>«\"Y»^:/^ 


:^!^i^!^^(j8a!^eigi3^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  flourish- 
ing 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 

[213] 


fow<Mr«\ir/'Air)^&8Yir7itir^MKi^ 


yiJWH^iSSitt^i^i^iiSiijsg^^ 


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  pro- 
tection of  the  Emperor,  which  did  receive  him  very  gra- 
ciously 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  Carin- 
thia,  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  Vaudemont,  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, 
one  of  his  chief est  favourites  (as  truly  he  did  in  every  way 

[214] 


igffig^fflnfflrtte^^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

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. 


|O  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  resi- 
dence 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 

[215] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

all  ever  he  could,  not  forgetting  to  quote  all  the  most  tell- 
ing passages  of  Holy  Scripture  of  every  sort  that  might 
advance  his  object.  But  the  Queen  did  straight  con- 
found him  with  other  as  good  and  more  appropriate  quota- 
tions, for  since  her  widowhood  she  had  applied  her  ear- 
nestly 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  vir- 
tuous Queen, — a  constancy  she  did  keep  unbroken  to  the 
end  of  her  days,  ever  honouring  the  sacred  ashes  of  her 
husband.  Faithfully  did  she  water  these  with  her  mourn- 
ful 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 

[216] 


msmniitfwi*^^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


Jl^^l^t«^'4^^l^lWI^!^!^li?P^ 


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,  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  endite 
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. 

[217] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

mmffli^^ffiS^liyffl^^ 

'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, 
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  widow- 
hood, 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-coun- 
selled 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  Prin- 
cesses 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 

[218] 


IHIfm/  M  W,  ffiWWmMhflyg^^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


iwiviua^iyyvjiwji^j;.^ 


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  atten- 
tion. 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  per- 
son 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  con- 
descending, 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  Chasteau- 
neuf,  a  Court  lady,  and  for  having  killed  the  Grand  Prior, 

[219] 


7»-;r;ffir7fiir^r^i^irfc>i!^^ 


r»xi««i»^4i^!.ywixv4^!x^ 


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  descalgadas  (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.  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  dis- 
coursing with  her,  answering  her  many  questions  as  to 
the  news  from  France  and  Portugal,  they  came  to  inform 

[220] 


r?ay«\ir/8^w<M^M\iM<i^^^ 


jtwj^sx^ixtyjwji^^^^ 


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  crepe,  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  be- 
haviour, 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  ques- 
tions, she  did  ask  me,  "Was  her  son  handsome,  and  who 
was  he  most  like?"  I  told  her  he  was  one  of  the  hand- 
somest Princes  in  Christendom,  as  truly  he  was,  and  that 
he  was  like  her  in  every  way,  and  the  living  image  of  her 

[221] 


TSwiflnttirffiitminmrffi^ 


;J!.WJ!.im»^!WJlV»y^^ 


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  Aries 
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  con- 
sider 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  accom- 
plishment, 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 

[222] 


rrmrvanartarmrWirififi*^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

ajy&jy&i^ataaa^^i^it^^ 

of  despite  or  something  like  it,  as  I  have  been  told :  Aunque 
la  nieta  sea  por  su  verano  mas  moza,  y  menos  cargada  de 
anos  que  la  tia,  la  hermosura  de  la  tia,  ya  en  su  estio 
toda  hecha  y  formada  por  sus  gentiles  y  fructiferos  anos, 
vale  mas  que  todos  los  frutos  que  su  edad  florescida  da 
esperanza  a  venir;  porque  la  menor  desdicha  humana  los 
Tiara  caer  y  perder  ni  mas  n'i  menos  que  alguinos  arbo- 
les,  los  quales,  en  el  verano,  por  sus  Undas  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  spring- 
time, 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 

[223] 


r/»«^r»ay*iiV«ir/air»rtMM^ 


;J!^!U|<ll^^!^l2i<ll^lJ!iiK^I^^ 


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. 

ER  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, 

[224] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


but  for  the  obstinacy  of  a  Cardinal,  which  had  much  in- 
fluence 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,  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  confi- 
dent 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  Due  de  Guise,  after  he  had 
been  sore  deceived  in  his  Italian  expedition,  was  often  used 

[225] 


»    •    *    *    .    .    .    «    4    .    .    .«  ^r^u/4^^t«vir?S?!r/svi.7«\;r?iv.r?«\itv 


H^tg^i^i*8jft^^i^^'^i^^^ 


to  say,  "I  do  love  God's  Church,  yet  will  I  never  under- 
take a  conquest  on  the  word  and  faith  of  any  Priest."  By 
this  he  was  for  chiding  the  Pope,  Caraff a,  known  as  Paul 
IV.,  which  had  not  kept  his  promises  made  to  him  in  the 
most  impressive  and  solemn  words,  or  mayhap  the  Cardi- 
nal, 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  Due  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  sub- 
ject 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." 
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 

[226] 


",;;»ir/iYtf/»m\;r/»tf/»iffc^^ 


^aStl^l^l^^l^^l^J!^ 


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  chief est  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 

[227] 


r4^faAl.t«Yifa\iri»Yir/iY!fa\;;.-«/^ 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

att^mfli&ai&mais^^^ 

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  i/nfortune, 
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  con- 
queror, 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  Hun- 
gary, Spain  at  the  time  of  its  rebellion  under  M.  de  Chie- 
vres,  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  speak- 
ing. 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  quar- 

[228] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND    GALLANT     LADIES 


4!^l^!^^^lM^U*J!»J!if«^ 


ter  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,  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  per- 
fection 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 

[229] 


8raigsiBftfl^ww^tft«^wffl^tiT^f/^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

aK-aa^iiiya&afea&gi^^ 

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  agree- 
able, as  well  as  more  varied  and  general. 

These  fetes  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-wit- 
nesses, and  in  especial  from  Madame  de  Fontaine,  sur- 
named  Torcy,  acting  as  sister  for  the  time  being  to  Queen 
Eleanor;  but  I  should  be  blamed  as  too  continually  di- 
gressing 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  manffiuvres, 
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. 

[230] 


r/rcWi^rrtwr/witr^ftMi^^ 


:^t^28g!5&n,>s»!i«!^^ 


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  expendi- 
ture, 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,  war- 
like 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  splen- 
dour later,  forasmuch  as  it  was  utterly  devastated,  pil- 
laged, 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  inter- 
fered, her  vengeance  would  have  been  startling.  For 

[231] 


»YtaYM/itfft»rtrAYirfc\s^^^^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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 

[232] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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 

[233] 


^hMyWsmaoiirffl^^ 

llVES  OF  FAIR  AND  GALLANT  LADIES 


Jl^^lJSKSil^tSJBJSn^^^^ 


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  con- 
nection, as  I  have  been  told. 

4. 

FTER  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  Den- 
mark, 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 

[234] 


rfc\ir«tiiTi\w^i>8flnWr«ffl)Wt^ 


j^^t^^i^^wjt^i^i^is^ 


tall  and  fine,  her  conversation  agreeable,  and  above  all  her 
dress  most  excellent.  In  fact  all  her  life  she  was  the  pat- 
tern 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  fetes  and  splendid  shows,  the  better 
thereat  to  show  off  their  dainty  adornments,  all  being  a  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,"  x 
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  ex- 
cellent, 'twere  impossible  to  say  one  was  better  than  an- 
other. 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  espe- 
cially after  her  son  had  been  taken  from  her,  she  did  quit 
Lorraine  altogether  in  despite,  so  proud  and  high  of  heart 

[235] 


ftr.i>stittt>rtry8tir«<ir^ttt>rtfrMyrt^^ 


«.w^'!^^!>!S<^iy4ii^^ 


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  as- 
suagement, 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  of- 
fice, 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  Gal- 
lery 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,  al- 
beit 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  remon- 
strate 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  piti- 
ful, as  that  the  King,  always  very  courteous  toward  ladies, 
was  deeply  stirred  with  compassion, — and  not  he  alone, 

[236] 


TSW/\^^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


^Jlvgms/jivt^vwj!V»yj(X«y^ 


but  all  the  Lords  and  Princes,  great  and  small,  which  were 
present  at  the  sight. 

The  King,  who  was  the  most  respectful  monarch  to- 
ward 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,  whose  judg- 
ment was  much  to  be  relied  on  by  reason  of  the  com- 
petence of  knowledge  he  did  possess.  Moreover  any  one 
that  shall  read  the  speech  as  given  by  Paradin,  as  sup- 
posed 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 

[237] 


•'•^Y^ii/wrr*itaw*YirA»ir/w^ 


Jlg>^iafl^tiiflii^^l^t^i^l^^ 


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  kins- 
woman 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, 

t2381 


WffiFSffWFsnrwfwffwiFsf^^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

afeat^ti&ffl^Bywi^^ 

she  did  withdraw  her  to  her  own  chamber,  the  King  him- 
self 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  chief est  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  im- 
portant 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 

[239] 


r^uYitfftftiroftOTMnivwsv^ 


jt«/rj»4:v?4:^i^^4!^iis^ 


confidence  in  her,  well  knowing  her  good  qualities.  He 
did  ever  love  her  well,  bearing  her  much  affection  and  es- 
teem; 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  Due  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  mar- 
riage, his  wife  being  of  a  most  illustrious  house  and  grand- 
daughter 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 

[240] 


B?giya??'Sji??^?yCTyfflff^ig'flir^^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  pres- 
ently 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  ir*  *fae  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  address- 

[241] 


BrsBnwrwg'MjrRffrnsrnttriw^^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


;j!££^t^!^^!S<M^l^^l®W4 


ing  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  exceed- 
ing 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  suf- 

[242] 


Eg 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


ficient  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  de- 
clare, "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  tri- 
umphal 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;  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  for- 
ward to  meet  her  only  so  far  as  the  midmost  of  the  hall, 
or  mayhap  a  little  farther  and  somewhat  nearer  the  en- 
trance 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 

[243] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


•j^i^t^i^tsiBSsiisai^^ 


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  in- 
violably 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 
[244] 


EfWflytfftftflfrWffl^l^t 

LIVES     OF     FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

gg^giyil&aiMiMgyS^^ 

exercises, — praying  God  and  giving  much  alms  and  char- 
ity toward  the  poor,  and  above  all  toward  widows,  among 
whom  she  did  not  forget  the  unfortunate  Madame  Castel- 
lane  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  Mace- 
donia, 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  ex- 
treme 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  en- 
dured in  France. 

Such  is  the  summary  account  I  have  been  able  to  give 
of  ths  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  imme- 
diately 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  Lor- 
raine, the  better  to  strengthen  himself  in  his  divers  alli- 
ances. 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  Mont- 

[245] 


pTOI??WAwAfflAHB\wraffrsffl?TO?SM 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


J!^!^J!^!^!^t^l®^!^ti«®4^ 


f  errat,  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  pru- 
dent 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  ar- 
ray, clad  in  a  long  robe  of  cloth  of  gold  fretted,  and  all 
bordered  with  great  diamonds,  rubies,  sapphires,  em- 
eralds, and  other  rich  jewels.  Her  head  likewise  was  en- 
circled with  the  like  precious  stones,  while  at  her  neck  she 
wore  a  necklace  or  collar  of  huge  Oriental  pearls  of  price- 
less 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  fig- 
ured 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 

[246] 


pj*ayfflfwss?wwgBras7ww^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


JIVS/^J^S^^J^I^S^O^^ 


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  grati- 
tude, thanking  her  heartily  and  expressing  great  obliga- 
tion 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. 

I  have  heard  sundry  of  our  fathers  and  mothers,  which 
had  it  of  their  own  parents  as  eye-witnesses,  and  in  espe- 
cial of  the  noble  lady,  the  Seneschale  de  Poitou,  my  grand- 
mother, who  was  then  a  maid  of  honour  at  the  Court,  de- 
clare 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  jour- 
ney thither,  were  forever  discoursing  of  her  and  enter- 
taining 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 

[247] 


r^ir?^irfc^;?^r?*^^ir?*^ 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


body  than  their  wealth  of  such  things ;  I  mean  some 
would,  though  not  of  course  all.  At  any  rate  the  kind- 
ness done  was  a  very  great  one;  for  but  for  this  gener- 
osity, 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  Hwixt  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  in- 
deed 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  becom- 
ing 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  wom- 
en, 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 

[248] 


SFSR^^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

aiy«&fliiyiifeaa^ffl^ 

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  world- 
liness  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  mon- 
arch, say  the  same :  how  that  widows  in  days  gone  by  had 
not  the  same  carefulness  as  to  their  attire,  modest  bear- 
ing 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,  by  way 
of  honouring  the  occasion,  to  lead  out  the  Dowager  Prin- 
cess of  Conde  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  sp  far  in- 
dulged them  as  to  adopt  red,  scarlet  and  chamois-yellow, 
as  in  former  days;  for  they  could  then  wear  any  colour 

[249] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


UV«^yji.v^»Wr^,^ 


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,  see- 
ing 'twas  her  proper  ducal  habit  and  state  costume,  and 
therefore  becoming  and  lawful,  for  to  display  the  sov- 
ranty  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  sev- 
eral 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. 

OWEVER  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,  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 

[250] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  dis- 
pleasure, 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  Mile,  de  Changy,  a  very  fair  and  most  honour- 
able 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  author- 
ity, 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  coun- 
sel, 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  vir- 
tuous life  rather  than  on  a  lineage  sprung  of  evil-doing. 
Still  the  advice,  in  a  worldly  point  of  view  and  accord- 
ing to  Macchiavelli'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 

[251] 


jg^BTOijywwwwwgig^TOBrai?^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


j^vs^^u«ffl^tj»^ij»j^(ji!^^ 


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'Angouleme,  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,  hav- 
ing 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  Grig- 
naux,  a  nobleman  of  honour  and  good  birth  from  Peri- 
gord,  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'Angouleme  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'Angouleme,  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,  'Good- 
bye !  my  chance  of  the  fair  Kingdom  of  France !'  Where- 
fore I  say,  reflect." 

[252] 


fttf^r/svitrrtrrstfT^r/ftV/^ 


[V£!^l3!!Sii!!ll34!^^ 


In  fact  the  said  Queen  was  for  practising  and  proving 
true  the  Spanish  saw  or  proverb,  which  saith,  munca  mu- 
ger  aguda  murio  sin  herederos,  "no  clever  woman  ever 
died  without  heirs;"  or  in  other  words,  an  if  her  hus- 
band make  her  none,  she  will  call  in  other  help  to  get  her 
end.  Now  M.  d'Angouleme  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  Eng- 
lishwoman, 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'Angouleme,  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  pro- 
duce this  at  the  instant  of  her  pretended  delivery.  But 
the  Queen  Regent,  which  was  from  Savoy  and  knew  some- 
what about  child-bearing  and  the  like,  seeing  things  were 

[253] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND    GALLANT     LADIES 


l!',*W»m»«!^t^l^l»8ai^^ 


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  vir- 
tuous, she  did  never  desire,  whether  by  true  or  false  pre- 
tence, 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,  may- 
hap 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  gal- 
lant 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 

[254] 


'Y»rrtoitow<*ir/^ 


^mn^»A':i:»-r-»^ 


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  life- 
time, to  have  leaned  somewhat  to  the  side  of  the  party  of 
the  Union,  because,  being  so  good  a  Christian  and  Cath- 
olic 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  mon- 
strous deed  of  a  man  of  religion.1  Thus  both  an  married 
life  and  widowhood,  did  this  excellent  Princess  live  blame- 
less. Eventually  she  died  in  the  enjoyment  of  a  most 
noble  and  worthy  repute,  having  long  languished  in  sick- 

[255] 


LIVES    OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


ness  and  grown  hectic  and  parched, — 'twas  said  owing  to 
her  overmuch  indulgence  in  sorrow.  She  made  a  very  ex- 
cellent 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, 
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  ac- 
complished 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  Due  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  ex- 
cuse 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 

[256] 


r/rttoY«YrtiV»irA\iytYit/M^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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. 

HE  Duchesse  de  Guise,  Catherine  of  Cleves, 
one  of  the  three  daughters  of  the  house  of 
Never s  (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  let- 
ters, 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  re- 
grets her  soul  was  wounded. 

Her  noble  sister-in-law,  Madame  de  Montpensier,  of 
whom  I  d~»  hope  to  speak  further  elsewhere,  did  also  be- 
wail 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 

[257] 


foY^itoYir/tttoY.r/iW^r^^^ 


,'^l^lXfy!^^!^!^^ 


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  Conde,  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  satis- 
fied 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  king- 
dom 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  Prin- 
cesses 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 

[258] 


WtftiWK^^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

'.g&mmai^iByflSaaiyffl^ 

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  Randam  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  care- 
less 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 

[259] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND    GALLANT     LADIES 


^^ttg4i^^w^t^!.^l^t^ 


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  her- 
self 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  ad- 
mirer, 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  Perigord 
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  any- 
where 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 

[260] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


wise  doubt  their  firm  intention.  But  I  am  ready  to  de- 
clare 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  for- 
ever to  matrimony."  Then  when  another  did  further  ob- 
ject: "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  tfarm  me  even,  all  alone  in  my  bed  which  is  widowed 
and  cold  as  ice.  Yet  in  the  company  of  a  second  hus- 
band, 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  mar- 
riage." 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,  see- 
ing 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,  honour- 
able 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 

[261] 


»^>ifAifl7Sffl^ff^^Afflraig^ffraBra^^ 

LIVES  OF  FAIR  AND  GALLANT  LADIES 

gjy^B^ii^aK^^flK^^^ 

of  the  like!  But  an  if  I  were  for  citing  all  these,  I 
should  never  have  ended;  and  especially  if  I  should  in- 
clude 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  be- 
ing both  very  beautiful  and  very  rich,  she  was  more  than 
once  asked  when  she  would  marry  again,  to  which  she  re- 
plied :  "  '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  vir- 
tuous, than  either,  nay!  far  more  so;  else  had  she  not 
been  Gate'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  im- 
portunate 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 

[262] 


jgffftffiftMftfflft^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     G  A  LL  A  N  T     L  A  D  I  ES 


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  some- 
thing 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  excel- 
lent 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  mar- 
riage, and  not  rather  vow  me  to  a  second  chastity,  yet 
would  I  fain  prefer  to  get  me  an  husband  rather  an  in- 
heritance." 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 

[263] 


Y»\r>A"?Wir«V;,?ii\1^^^^ 


[iwi^jgwM^^jM^iswm^^ 


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  per- 
sons 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  di- 
vine law  no  less  than  human  allow  them,  as  well  as  nature, 
youth  and  beauty;  yet  must  they  needs  abstain  in  obedi- 
ence 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 

[264] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

fflfi^ayjjjyii^'-iaMigm 

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. 

ELL!  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  afore- 
hand  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 

[265] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


^^t^wt'iw^i^isg^ 


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  com- 
ing 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  1'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, 

[266] 


8TOBrai^»rotOTwrai^v^wratfratfftwAWAw^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


^!^««^t^t®4t^!^l^lX8<^ 


For  le  dar  pena  de  su  pecado: 

Ya  ray  tan  bien,  por  falta  de  nay  juyzio, 

Y  por  dar  fin  a  la  mal-adventura  qu'yo  avio. 

(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.  My- 
self 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  them- 
selves 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 

[267] 


^iy«w«wrtrevir?sxir7OT^iV8virriNW^^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

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 

[268] 


r/«\'.r/»if?aflr7a\;raflr?«SiMMt?^^ 


wwwu«^f/;i;»j^ 


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  dole- 
ful widows,  thinking  no  ill  and  supposing  their  grief  genu- 
ine, 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  per- 
formed, 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 

[269] 


to"»"i«irtoir?^r?^ 


^•/y^lvS^JliS^aSt^^l®^!^^ 


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  pres- 
ently, 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  counte- 
nance, "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 

[270] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

afiaflj&aayas^SjyflfeHffl^^^ 

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  resolu- 
tion 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, 

[271] 


fcYirrBNir/iWAltoAiMwr/M^ 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT    LADIES 

?5^^aKJiiiyffl^fflyii*yi^^ 

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  enter- 
prise 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  un- 
guarded. 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  af eared ;  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 

[272] 


Bftfflftfflftfflftffiftfl^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


t>&l^tV8fll^l^t>84l^im^t^lX8*ft^ 


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,  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  anec- 
dote or  better  able  to  turn  the  same  to  account.  Accord- 
ingly 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  inti- 
mate friends,  and  beside  could  relate  sundry  frdm  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 
Marechal  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 

[273] 


BTOsrasroig^iy^tgffltreffraffffflffi^^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLA  NT    LADIES 


!^!^^!^!^^ 


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 
Booh  of  Obsequies  (des  Funerailles),  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-be- 
gone  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 

[274] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  them- 
selves. 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  vani- 
ties 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.  An- 
other 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 

[275] 


r^ih^tftWrtr/sfltft\if^revifr^r?ivit?isir^^ 


i^m^^^mm^^i-wjiwjt^t^^ 


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  neighbour- 
hood 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  des- 
perate 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 

[276] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


^VW84l)®<a>&^^ 


contrary.  Mighty  surprised  was  I  myself  one  day,  on  re- 
turning 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,  accom- 
panied by  her  kinswomen  and  friends,  and  there  appear- 
ing before  the  King  and  Queen,  the  Royal  personages  and 
all  the  Court,  and  there  receiving  the  first  orders  of  mar- 
riage, 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  asLounded,  whenas  thinking 
me  far  away,  she  saw  me  among  the  noble  company  present 
at  her  affiancing,  standing  there  gazing  at  her  and  chal- 
lenging 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: 

[277] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

"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  hon- 
oured him!"  (Sophonisba  said  differently,  for  she  did  re- 
pent 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  an- 
other (yet  are  they  very  worthy  folk  really),  and  upbraid- 
ing 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  cry- 
ing, 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 

[278] 


.^i:yalSg?uy^fia^lSifliyahM^ 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT    LADIES 


t«<!iwj:wj^^j!fr/r;^^ 


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  Pescaire,  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  Abbe 
de  Farfe, —  an  ill  match  to  the  noble  Pescaire.  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  Pescaire 
were  inestimable,  and  his  valour  beyond  compare,  while  the 
said  Abbe,  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 

[279] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

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. 

BORGIA,  Due  de  Valentinois,  was 
he  not  first  of  all  a  Cardinal,  the  same 
which  afterward  was  so  great  a  Captain  that 
Macchiavelli,  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  Marechal 
de  Foix,  which  was  first  a  Churchman  and  known  as  the 
Protonotary  de  Foix,  but  afterward  became  a  great  Cap- 
tain. The  Marechal  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, 

[280] 


M*ti^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


Jt>8a>84l«/Jt>8<Jl*84t*8/Jt^^4l^lX^ 


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  Marechal  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  Abbe  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,1  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  Marechal 
de  Matignon. 

[281] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT    LADIES 


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  thp  Abbe.  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  how- 
ever. 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,  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  ap- 
peared for  twenty  years,  not  indeed  since  her  second  mar- 
riage, she  did  re-adopt  the  name  and  title  of  her  first 
husband.  This  is  a  matter  our  courts  of  law  and  par- 
liament 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  hav- 
ing 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, 
[282] 


vm^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


Jl>Ml!«^!»/]I^!^t.V»Al^^^^ 


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 
crepe  becomingly ;  for  mayhap  I  may  make  another  con- 
quest." 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  opin- 
ion 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  ff  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 

[283] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  Bor- 
deaux, 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. 

[284] 


FsWflF^fsffliWtilfr^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

gK»fflRmflB^ii&maitt^^ 

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  ter- 
ror of  her  son,  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.  Re- 
port saith  the  Prince  was  afeared  of  his  mother-in-law, 
which  was  very  imperious  with  him,  and  was  most  un- 
willing he  should  marry  again  because  of  his  young  chil- 
dren. 

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  Proven9al,  of 
the  house  of  Senjal  and  Bishop  of  Frejus,  which  had 
served  the  said  Cardinal  for  fifteen  years  at  the  Court  of 

[285] 


Bftm?WWWMgalgWWiyfflgWWW$^^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

aiyjayjByiitt^iiy^ 

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  Chas- 
tillon,  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  of- 
fice he  held. 

This  Madame  de  Chastillon  was  the  widow  of  the  late 
M.  de  Chastillon,  the  same  which  was  said  to  chiefly  gov- 
ern 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  be- 
came 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 

[286] 


;?gr^li«v%Svft8riMMi^ 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

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  remon- 
strate with  her  very  judiciously,  as  may  be  read  in  the 
Nouvelle  or  Tale  in  question,  and  did  give  her  the  ex- 
cellent 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  Par- 
liament of  Paris  that  gave  the  advice,  which  did  show 
plainly,  however,  the  lady  to  be  no  less  skilled  and  experi- 
enced in  such  mysteries  than  wise  and  judicious;  where- 
fore there  can  be  little  doubt  she  did  keep  her  affair  with 
the  Cardinal  right  well  hidden. 

My  grandmother,  the  Seneschale  de  Poitou,  had  her 
place  after  her  death,  by  choice  of  King  Francis  him- 
self, 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,  foras- 
much as  he  knew  her  to  be  a  very  prudent  and  very  vir- 
tuous 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  Ad- 
miral de  Bonnivet,  as  I  have  been  assured  by  my  grand- 
mother. 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  Chas- 

[287] 


SfflraB^M?Si^^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIS 

'jlMl^l&glMl^iMI^^SMI^^ 

tillon.  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  scan- 
dalous by  some  in  view  of  the  sacred  and  priestly  profes- 
sion 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. 
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  novel- 
ties 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. 

[288] 


rtifiraBrSBysSJffilfr?^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


iMMt^tm>fett^i^tw^»^»^^ 


9. 

JOWEVER  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 
[289] 


BmrnnagwimmmiigSBftffi^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


^ 


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,1  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  spring- 
tide, 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  appre- 
hension, being  well  assured  that,  inasmuch  as  she  had 
known  how  to  captivate  Julius  Caesar  and  Cnaeus  Pom- 
peius,  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, 

[290] 


i^ir/ttir/toV^i^ 


/fty^twwitMMpagas^atei!*^ 


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,  accord- 
ing 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  doc- 
tors 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-spir- 
ited 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 

[291] 


Iff^NXffi^^f^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


j^W^l^l^v»4>x»y^vty^^ 


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  anguttas  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  else- 
where, 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. 

[292] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


^t^g£^£*4i^ix»4i^ 


"Now  you  do  talk  sense,"  I  said  then;  "before  you  were 
talking  all  at  large." 

There  was  in  old  days  at  Rome  2  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  re- 
marrying once  more  to  each  other.  Eventually  the  hus- 
band 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  prom- 
enaded 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  sur- 
name,  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 

[293] 


srsffwsfflmrMwwfflff^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


Jl^t^lX»^t«flt^!^t^t«<ll^^l^ 


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  gain- 
ing 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  them- 
selves to  any  such  annoying  regimen.  And  so  I  have 

[294] 


igwwWflHratiTBa 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


Jtj8t!i^^t^4:i8^jy«^4t^^^^ 


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  there- 
by 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  charm- 
ing a  dame  was  she,  'twas  only  right  nature  should  be 
allowed  her  way,  and  she  hath  borne  to  boot  a  noble  line 
of  offspring. 


[295] 


.         »         .         .         44         4444444444444         .44.4        44 


J!ffiJI^J!X^l»^!JB^^|»4!^^ 


10. 

|ND  to  speak  truth,  suchlike  harsh,  chill  medi- 
cines should  be  left  to  poor  nuns  and  pre- 
scribed to  them  only,  which  for  all  their  fast- 
ing 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  refresh- 
ment 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  hcec  dim  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 

[296] 


YiNir/wyiKW8tiMKt?»nr«»^^ 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT    LADIES 

a&^iii^aiagiikgByflis^ 

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  dsecribe  here  in  writing  the  fash- 
ion 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  honour- 
able damsel,  did  thus  exclaim:  0  tristezilla,  y  en  que 
pecasteis,  que  tan  presto  •oienes  a  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  vir- 
ginity, 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  marry- 
ing poor  girls,  have  done  a  very  charitable  work,  no  less 

[297] 


Y<MrAWAiy*,i/S\irA^r/ii^ 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  Poi- 
tou  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  hus- 
bands, praise  the  Lord!  One  was  called  Guillaume,  he 
was  the  first;  and  the  second  was  called  Collas.  Guil- 
laume 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, 

[298] 


B^lg^l^lJTfflgSiB^Sg^g^mrffl^^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


^tXVJ^t^^^l^l^JI.^ 


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  chief est 
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  per- 
former,— though  very  oft  they  be  sore  deceived,  not  find- 
ing 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  sor- 
row. '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 

[299] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  unbiassed  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  hus- 
band 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  compas- 

[300] 


IKWifliftfllMMMMP^^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


>w\m^>9Mm&wji&Jw^ 


sion  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  re- 
morse 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  hus- 
band. For  is  there  not  an  old  proverb  which  saith,  "A 
woman  that  burieth  one  husband,  will  think  little  of  bury- 
ing 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  not- 
withstanding 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 

[301] 


fflft^^ 
LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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  per- 
fect giants,  so  as  to  spur  on  their  new  mates  to  work 
like  very  pack  mules. 

11. 

JIDOWS  of  the  sort  just  described  would  be  in 
good  case  in  the  island  of  Chios,  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  say- 
ing (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  re- 
turn 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 

[302] 


•RBWIMIWinBE^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

maa^fflMiMi&asyajyaMayt^ 

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 

[303] 


.         4        .        .        ...        4        ..........        4        .        •        .        »        «        4        A 


'^WJl^4!.W4[X^W4!^l^!^!^!^^ 


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  hand- 
somely, and  presently  hie  them  away  again  to  sea,  for 
their  part  only  too  sorry  to  leave  such  good  entertain- 
ment 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  pa- 
vilions 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 

[304] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT    LADIES 

mMmma^i^^ 


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  pub- 
licly? 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,  Ula  sub,  ille  super;  ille  sub  et 
Ilia  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  citi- 
zens' wives  to  sow  seed  therein  as  in  a  good  and  fruitful 
soil.  So  was  it  in  no  wise  blameworthy  for  an  old  out- 
wearied  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  her- 
self to  choose  for  to  help  her  procreation  the  next  kins- 
man of  her  husband,  then  an  if  he  pleased  her  fancy,  to 
couple  with  him,  to  the  end  the  children  they  might  en- 
gender 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 

[305] 


tt\tfWff*l/ti!TliB7Wffm^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT    LADIES 


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  tug- 
ged 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 
[306] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT    LADIES 


4P^WVg/Jl»;ji\M[^W/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,*5  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  hus- 
band 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  sum- 
mers, 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  some- 
what 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  move- 
ment?" 

[307] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


Jj8^JI^Jl^tg<^^l^t^^ 


"  'Tis  for  all  the  world  like  a  clock  that  is  left  un- 
wound." 

"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,  "Good- 
bye, 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 

[308] 


sreigWTiijrw'mrfflft'ftBrimr^^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

gByffl^fflysyssmmafeflifeffl^^ 

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  an- 
hungered, 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  un- 
married 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.1  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  Sec- 
retary 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  Dauphin^,  in  the  Cent 

[309] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT    LADIES 


NouveUes  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. 

HAVE  read  in  an  old  Romance,  Jehan  de 
Saintre,  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  mes- 
sages, as  is  done  likewise  to-day.  But  then  they  were 
wont  to  go  everywhere,  and  up  and  down  the  country- 
side, 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  Saintre  (for  so  he  did  long  continue 
to  be  called)  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. 

[310] 


iwftftfflftflffrttew^w^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


jt*8/^jw4i>sflt^!^!agi^^ 


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  Saintre,  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 

[311] 


rrtr/frifo\itoWrtfoWtf(ifr8flt>OTt^ 


Jt^^i-wj^i^t^^t^i^i^t^i^^ 


on  a  distant  journey, — when  she  did  change  him  for  a 
great,  fat  Abbe.  This  is  the  tale  we  find  in  the  Nouvelles 
du  monde  advantureux,  writ  by  a  gentleman  of  the  cham- 
ber to  the  Queen  of  Navarre,  wherein  we  see  the  Abbe 
put  an  affront  on  the  said  Jehan  de  Saintre,  that  was  so 
brave  and  valiant;  yet  did  he  in  no  long  while  pay  the 
worthy  Abbe  back  in  good  coin  and  three  times  over. 
Tis  an  excellent  Tale,  and  cometh  from  the  book  I  have 
named. 

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  in- 
deed 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 

[312] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

at^^i&a^i^B^aag^^ 

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  remon- 
strance 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  honour- 
able, 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  trans- 
formed 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!  dotfc  this  hackney  yet  frequent  the 
stallion?"  The  word  was  repeated  to  the  lady,  which 
did  vow  mortal  kate  against  the  offender.  On  M.  de 
Bussy's  learning  this,  "Well,  well !"  he  said,  "I  know  hour 
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, 

[313] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


'Doth  this  filly1  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  alt  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  gentle- 
man 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  else- 
where, 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. 

[314] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

Coming  to  Court,  after  an  absence  of  six  months,  he 
there  beheld  a  lady  which  was  used  to  attend  the  acad- 
emy, 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  beat- 
ing 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  turn- 
ing 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  mat- 
ter, 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 

[315] 


y«;if?s\ifov.r/awrtr^t>g\ififrit?s^ 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

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 ! 

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,  watch- 
ing 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  Due  de  Fleurance  Alexandre 
in  our  day),  what  smaller  folks  should  do,  following  the 

[316] 


virA\iw^ 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

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  hav- 
ing a  fair  lady  as  mistress,  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  £  accompag- 
nata, — "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  for- 
tunate 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 

[317] 


r?«iitoV;*i,Y»tfiY4YiY»w<rtir/tt^ 


.^*»,v§/Jl»/4^wy4l^l^v»>4l^!^^^^ 


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  im- 
mediately 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  pas- 
time, making  fun  of  the  man,  for  he's  really  witty  and 
ready-tongued,  and  no  one  can  help  laughing  in  his  com- 
pany, such  clever  retorts  doth  he  make."  By  these  words 
she  was  for  persuading  the  King  that  her  common  dis- 
course 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  con- 
trivance in  love. 

I  knew  a  very  great  lady,  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 

[318] 


r/wy<A"/»irAWi^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

a^^ytift^i^a^atyj^^ 

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  them- 
selves. 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. 


JOWEVER,  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 

[319] 


aftffiftffiftffiftHftMftt^^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT    LADIES 


J^JtxS/Jl^WJtWvm^Jl^l^l^!^ 


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  every- 
thing. 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  Perigord,  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  over- 
hearing us,  put  in:  "Why!  surely,  surely!  make  no  mis- 
take, 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. 

[320] 


fo^;^tfrW<ffiiMftiMitif«^^ 


Jt>«Km>8{ltl^at«^Jiiej8{l^ 


I  have  both  known  and  heard  speak  of  a  lady,  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  de- 
clare 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  Nou~ 
velles  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 

[321] 


IffWJWiFiSSRfliFSffTW^^ 

LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

gB^ayii&ifflya&aByiiaai^^ 

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  dis- 
cussing 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  com- 
pagnero,  esperanza  sin  trdbajo,  y  navio  sin  timon;  nunca 
pueden  hazer  cost  que  sea  buena, — "Man  or  woman  with- 
out companion,  hope  without  work,  or  ship  without  rud- 
der, 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 

[322] 


r*irrtMrfc\ir/iMr/iW*\ir/w^ 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

a&flia^i&ai&fliiyiBytByi^^ 

easier  and  simpler  thing  to  conquer  and  bring  under  one 
that  hath  already  been  conquered,  subdued  and  over- 
thrown, 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,  "  JTis  so,  because  my 
humour  is  to  have  it  so,"  they  declare.  Cybele,  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, 
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  Brelandiere  again  died  a  maid  and  virgin  at 
the  ripe  age  of  eighty,  the  same  which  was  governess  of 
Madame  d'Angouleme  as  a  girl. 

I  knew  another  maid  of  honour  of  very  great  and  ex- 
alted family,  and  at  the  time  seventy  years  of  age,  which 
would  never  marry, — albeit  she  was  no  wise  averse  to 

[323] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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,  another  of  the  Queen's  maids 
of  honour,  is  of  the  same  humour,  as  also  Mademoiselle 
de  Surgieres,  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, 

[324] 


•    «  ™iy«w«W4wr 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

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  de- 
serving 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 

[325] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


^Jt^ivm^t.m^^t>84ttj841l^l^ 


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  circum- 
stances 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  lux- 
uriousness."  Now  this  word  molllties  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 

[326] 


LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


bosom  friends,  after  the  Lesbian  fashion,  and  do  find  such 
gratification  in  female  society  alone,  as  that  they  be  con- 
vinced 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  tooth- 
some 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  con- 
demned 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  hon- 
oured 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  circum- 
stances. JTis  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 

[327] 


ffwwwtfwwftM^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

'^i&ai^ai^i^tKtffli^^^ 

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  opposi- 
tion to  the  said  Emperor  the  Romans  did  presently  de- 
pute 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  Theo- 
dosius 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  Reaumond  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  magnifi- 
cent coaches,  correspondingly  attired,  and  to  the  Amphi- 

[328] 


teWfrteWwwsfi?wwggrei?r^^ 

LIVES     OF     FAIR     AND     GALLANT     LADIES 

ifl&aayjiiyti&jti&gayaa^^ 

theatres  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  dis- 
cover aught. 

I  have  known  a  great  Lady  in  my  time,  which  did 
[329] 


LIVES     OF    FAIR    AND     GALLANT     LADIES 


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. 

Another  widow  I  have  known,  which  did  keep  her  wid- 
owed estate  for  fifty  years,  all  the  while  wantoning  it 
right  gallantly,  but  always  with  the  most  prudish  mod- 
esty 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  com- 
pletely. 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 

[330] 


r/iWrt>Y«w«w»Air^i^^ 


Ji«£ivm^!^ix»4t^i^i^i^^^ 


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  care- 
fully 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  need- 
ful 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. 


[331] 


NOTES 


jtwjLwy^t^y^txscwiW'p^yy^vs^ 


NOTES 


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." 

P.  4:  Virgil,  in  his  ^Eneid  (Bk.  I),  makes  Penthesileia  appear 
only  after  Hector's  death.  For  these  accounts  on  the  Amazons,  con- 
sult Traiti  historique  »ur  lea  Amazones,  by  Pierre  Petit,  Leyde,  1718. 

P.  6:  See  Boccaccio,  De  Claris  Mulieribus. 

P.  6:  yEneid,  IV.,  10-13. 

P.  8:  A  Latin  work  of  Boccaccio  in  nine  books. 

P.  8:  Bk.  IX.,  Chap.  3. 

P.  9:  Nouvelle,  1554-1574. 

P.  9:  Bandello,  t.  III.,  p.  1  (Venice,  1558). 

P.  11:  The  Due  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  1689.  The  vic- 
tories referred  to  are  those  of  Jarnac  and  Montcontour. 

P.  12:    Ronsard,  (Eworet,  liv.  1,  174th  sonnet. 

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  con- 
clude a  peace.  These  were  Monluc,  Bishop  of  Valence,  and  the 

[335] 


r/ffir7i\ii»ATOi?!®irfcAir/»ir/ititaA^ 


NOTES 


Sieur  de  Rendan  mentioned  in  the  text;  the  negotiators  appointed 
to  meet  them  on  the  English  side  were  the  Queen's  great  minister 
Cecil  and  Wotton,  Dean  of  Canterbury.  The  French  troops  were 
withdrawn. 

P.  13:  The  little  Leith.  (Cf.  Jean  de  Beaugue,  Hittoire  d«  la 
guerre  d'Ecosse,  reprinted  by  Montalembert  in  1862,  Bordeaux.) 

P.  13:    Jacques  de  Savoie,  Duke  de  Nemours,  died  hi  1585. 

P.  13:  Charles  de  La  Rochefoucauld,  Count  de  Randan,  was  sent 
to  England  in  1559,  where  he  arranged  peace  with  Scotland. 

P.  14:    An  imaginary  king  without  authority. 

P.  14:  Philibert  le  Voyer,  lord  of  Lignerolles  and  of  Bellefille, 
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  Bar- 
tholomew. 

P.  15:  Bran  tome  knew  quite  well  that  the  woman  the  handsome 
and  alluring  Duke  de  Nemours  truly  loved  was  no  other  than  Mme. 
de  Guise,  Anne  cPEste,  whom  he  later  married. 

P.  15:    XVIth  Tale.    Guillaume  Gouffier,  lord  of  Bonnivet. 

P.  16:  Marguerite  de  Valois  took  Bussy  d'Amboise  partly  be- 
cause of  his  reputation  as  a  duellist. 

P.  17:  Jacques  de  Lorge,  lord  of  Montgomerie,  captain  of  Fran- 
cis I.'s  Scotch  Guard  and  father  of  Henri  II.'s  involuntary  murderer. 

P.  18:    Claude  de  Clermont,  Viscount  de  Tallard. 

P.  18:  Francois  de  Hangest,  lord  of  Genlis,  captain  of  the  Louvre, 
who  died  of  hydrophobia  at  Strassburg  in  1569. 

P.  19:  It  is  undoubtedly  Louise  de  Halwin,  surnamed  Mile,  de 
Piennes  the  Elder,  who  later  married  Cipier  of  the  Marcilly  family. 

P.  20:  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. 

[336] 


r*w^ir/ivi&w&«ir^tow<Mr7Wr«rt^r^^ 


NOTES 


^iw^t®Av»4Ji»<yi»^M!«naa^    »    «    •    •  .«    •    •    •••    «    •    •    ••».»• 


P.  20:  Agnes  Sorel,  or  Soreau,  the  famous  mistress  of  Charles  VII., 
was  daughter  of  the  Seigneur  de  St.  Gerard,  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  Demoi- 
selle 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  expen- 
diture of  the  Court  and  the  misfortunes  of  the  Kingdom  to  her. 
Whatever  may  be  the  truth  of  Brantdme'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  Beaute,  on  the  Marne,  whence  her 
title  of  La  Dame  de  Beaut6,  and  that  of  Loches,  in  the  Abbey 
Church  of  which  she  was  buried  on  her  sudden  death  in  1450,  and 
where  her  tomb  existed  down  to  1792. 

P.  20.  Charles  VII.,  son  of  the  mad  Charles  VI.,  born  1403,  crowned 
at  Poitiers  1422,  but  only  consecrated  at  Reims  in  1429,  after  the 
capture  of  Orleans  and  the  victories  due  to  Jeanne  d'Arc.  The 
adversary  of  the  Burgundians  and  the  English  under  the  Duke  of 
Bedford  and  Henry  V.  of  England.  Died  1461. 

P.  20:     Henry  V.  of  England,  reigned,  1413-1422. 

P.  20:  Bertrand  du  Guesclin,  Constable  of  France,  the  most 
famous  warrior  of  the  XlVth  Century,  and  one  of  the  greatest  Cap- 
tains of  any  age,  was  born  about  1314  near  Rennes  of  an  ancient  and 
distinguished  family  of  Brittany.  He  was  the  great  champion  of 
France  in  the  wars  with  the  English,  and  the  tales  of  his  prowess 
are  endless.  Died  1380. 

P.  21 :  Beatrix,  fourth  daughter  of  Raymond-Be>anger  IV.,  Count 
de  Provence. 

P.  22:  Isabeau  de  Lorraine,  daughter  of  Charles  II.,  married 
Ren6  d' Anjou. 

[337] 


feNir/ftOTftOTSnr/itiiVStinsv^ 


NOTES 


P.  24:  He  called  himself  Ren6  de  La  Platiere,  lord  of  Les  Bordes, 
and  was  ensign  in  Field  Marshal  de  Bourdillon's  company;  he  was 
killed  at  Dreux.  He  was  the  son  of  Francois  de  La  Platiere  and 
Catherine  Motier  de  La  Fayette. 

P.  24:  Brantdme,  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  Angelique  was  Marguerite  de  Valois. 

P.  27:  Brant&me  is  unquestionably  referring  again  in  this  para- 
graph to  Marguerite  de  Valois  and  Bussy  d'Amboise. 

P.  28:     Orlando  furioso,  canto  V. 

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  gatyrique.) 

P.  30:  This  is  very  likely  an  adventure  that  happened  to  Bran- 
tdme,  and  he  had  occasion  to  play  the  r&le  of  the  "gentilhomme  con- 
tent." 

P.  32:  According  to  Lalanne,  the  two  gentlemen  are  Le  Balafr6 
and  Mayenne.  If  the  "grande  dame"  was  Marguerite,  she  bore 
Mayenne  no  grudge,  whom  she  described  as  "a  good  companion,  big 
and  fat,  and  voluptuous  like  herself." 

P.  37:  It  is  Madeleine  de  Saint-Nectaire  or  Senneterre,  married 
to  the  lord  of  Miramont,  Guy  de  Saint-Exup6ry;  she  supported  the 
Huguenots.  She  defeated  Montal  in  Auvergne,  and  according  to 
Mezeray,  killed  him  herself  in  1574.  (See  Anselme,  t.  IV.,  p.  890.) 
In  1569,  Mme.  de  Barbancon  had  also  fought  herself;  she,  too,  was 
formerly  an  Italian,  Ipolita  Fioramonti. 

P.  39:     On  the  large  square  with  the  tower,  in  the  centre  of  Sienna. 

P.  40:    Livy,  Bk.  XXVII.,  Chap.  XXXVII. 

P.  42:     Orlando  furioso,  cantos  XXII.  and  XXV. 

P.  42:  Christophe  Jouvenel  des  Ursins,  lord  of  La  Chapelle,  died 
in  1588. 

P.  42:     Henri  II. 

[338] 


r^V/toirAViI/lMf/WMMi^ 


NOTES 


;UHMI>S4lw!7JJl^!^!^!^l^^^ 


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.) 

P.  44:  Famous  fortified  city  and  seaport  on  the  Atlantic  coast  of 
France;  800  miles  S.  W.  of  Paris,  capital  of  the  modern  Department 
of  Charente-Inferieure. 

P.  45:  The  interview  between  Francois  de  La  Noue,  surnamed 
Bras-de-Fer  (iron  arm),  and  the  representatives  of  Monsieur,  Fran- 
$ois,  Duke  d'Alencon,  took  place  February  21,  1573.  The  scene  that 
Brantome  describes  happened  Sunday,  February  22. 

P.  46:  What  Brant6me  advances  here  is  to  be  found  in  Jacques 
de  Bourbon's  La  grande  et  merveillcuse  oppugnation  de  la  noble  cite 
de  Rhodes,  1527. 

P.  46:    The  siege  took  place  in  1536. 

P.  47:  August  14,  1536.  Count  de  Nassau  besieged  P6ronne  at 
the  head  of  60,000  men ;  the  population  defended  itself  with  the  utter- 
most energy.  Marie  Four£,  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.  Pieces  et  documents  relatifs  au 
siege  de  Peronne,  en  1536.  Paris,  1864.) 

P.  47:  The  siege  of  Sancerre  began  January  3,  1573;  but  the  rdle 
of  the  women  was  more  pacific  than  at  P6ronne;  they  nursed  the 
wounded  and  fed  the  combatants.  The  energetic  Joanneau  governed 
the  city.  (Poupard,  Histoire  de  Sancerre,  1777.) 

P.  47:  Vitr£  was  besieged  by  the  Duke  de  Mercoeuer  in  1589. 
This  passage  of  Brantdme's  is  quoted  in  the  Histoire  de  Vitre  by 
Louis  Dubois  (1839,  pp.  87-88). 

P.  47:  Peronne,  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  XlVth  Century 
destroyed.  Its  siege  by  the  Comte  de  Nassau  was  in  1536. 

P.  47:  Sancerre,  a  small  town  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Loire,  mod- 
ern Department  of  the  Cher,  27  miles  from  Bourges.  The  Huguenots 
of  Sancerre  endured  two  terrible  sieges  in  1569  and  1573. 

[339] 


y«vr/t,n/^ny>w«w»w>\:y«w«CT^ 


NOTES 


P.  47:  Vitr6,  a  town  of  Brittany,  modern  Department  Ille-et- 
Yilaine,  of  about  10,000  inhabitants.  Retains  its  medieval  aspect  and 
town  walls  to  the  present  day. 

P.  48:    Collenuccio,  Bk.  V. 

P.  49:  Boccaccio  has  arranged  this  story  in  his  De  claries  muli- 
eribus,  cap.  CI.  Vopiscus,  Aurelius,  XXVI-XXX,  relates  this  fact 
more  coolly. 

P.  49:  Zenobia,  the  famous  Queen  of  Palmyra,  widow  of  Odena- 
thus,  who  had  been  allowed  by  the  weak  Emperor  Gallienus  to  par- 
ticipate in  the  title  of  Augustus,  and  had  extended  his  empire  over  a 
great  part  of  Asia  Minor,  Syria  and  Egypt.  She  was  eventually 
defeated  by  Aurelian  in  a  great  battle  on  the  Orontes  not  far  from 
Antioch.  Palmyra  was  destroyed,  and  its  inhabitants  massacred; 
and  Zenobia  brought  in  chains  to  Rome. 

P.  49:  The  Emperor  Aurelian  was  born  about  212  A.  D.,  and  was 
of  very  humble  origin.  He  served  as  a  soldier  in  almost  every  part 
of  the  Roman  Empire,  and  rose  at  last  to  the  purple  by  dint  of  his 
prowess  and  address  in  arms,  succeeding  Claudius  in  270  A.  D. 
Almost  the  whole  of  his  short  reign  of  four  years  and  a  half  was 
occupied  in  constant  fighting.  Killed  in  a  conspiracy  275  A.  D. 

P.  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  after- 
wards thrown  into  a  dungeon.  He  was  subsequently  released,  how- 
ever, on  the  intercession  of  Aemilius  Paulus,  and  died  hi  honour- 
able captivity  at  Alba. 

P.  53:  Maria  of  Austria,  sister  of  Charles  V.,  widow  of  Louis  II. 
of  Hungary,  and  ruler  over  the  Netherlands;  she  died  in  1558.  It 
was  against  her  rule  that  John  of  Leyden  struggled. 

P.  53:  Brantdme  has  in  mind  Aurelia  Victorina,  mother  of  Vic- 
torinus,  according  to  Trebillius  Pollio,  Thirty  Tyrants,  XXX. 

P.  54:    In  Froissart,  liv.  I,  chap.  174. 

[340] 


WViR?WrRi97*!iS7*!iam^^ 

NOTES 


P.  54:  Henri  I.,  Prince  de  Condd,  died  in  1588  (January  5), 
poisoned,  says  the  Journal  de  Henri,  by  his  wife  Catherine  Charlotte 
de  la  Tremolle. 

P.  64:  Isabella  of  Austria,  daughter  of  Philip  II. 

P.  64:  Jeanne  de  Flandres. 

P.  65:  Jacquette  de  Montberon,  Brantdme's  sister-in-law. 

P.  55:  Macchiavelli,  Dell'arte  della  guerre,  Bk.  V.,  ii. 

P.  56:  Paule  de  Penthievre,  the  second  wife  of  Jean  II.  de  Bour- 
gogne,  Count  de  Nevers. 

P.  57:  Richilde,  Countess  de  Hainaut,  who  died  in  1091. 

P.  67:  Hugues  Spencer,  or  le  D£pensier. 

P.  67:  Jean  de  Hainaut,  brother  of  Count  de  Hainaut. 

P.  57:  Cassel  and  Broqueron. 

P.  57:  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,  1307. 

P.  58:    Eleonore  d'Acquitaine. 

P.  59:  Thevet  wrote  the  Cosmographie;  Nauclerus  wrote  a  Chro- 
nographie. 

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 
Brantdme  speaks  is  famous;  he  found  it  in  Valles,  fol.  205.  As  for 
Mouron,  he  was  the  great  Chancellor  Hieronimo  Morone. 

P.  61:    Plutarch,  Anthony,  Chap.  xiv. 

[341] 


Y*W«W4My»W«W»YM^1^ 


NOTES 


P.  62:  Catherine  Marie  de  Lorraine,  wife  of  Louis  de  Bourbon, 
Duke  De  Montpensier. 

P.  62:     Henri  III.,  assassinated  at  Paris,  1589. 
P.  65:    The  other  man  was  Mayenne. 

P.  67:  Poltrot  de  Mer£  was  tortured  and  quartered  (March  18, 
1563).  As  regards  the  admiral,  he  was  massacred  August  24,  1572. 

P.  68:    Philibert  de  Marcilly,  lord  of  Cipierre,  tutor  of  Charles  IX. 

P.  71:  On  this  adventure,  consult  the  Additions  au  Journal  de 
Henri  III.,  note  2. 

P.  72:  Louis  de  Correa,  Hiatoria  de  la  conquista  del  reino  d« 
Navarra, 

P.  76:    Louise  de  Savoie. 

P.  77:  Charlotte  de  Roye,  married  to  Francis  III.  de  La  Roche- 
foucauld in  1557;  she  died  in  1559. 

P.  78:  Marguerite  de  Foix-Candale,  married  to  Jean  Louis  de 
Nogaret,  Duke  d'Eperon. 

P.  79:  Ren6e  de  Bourdeille,  daughter  of  Andre  and  Jacquette 
Montberon.  She  married,  in  1579,  David  Bouchard,  Viscount  d'Aube- 
terre,  who  was  killed  in  Perigord  in  1593.  She  died  in  1596.  The 
daughter  of  whom  Brant6me  is  about  to  speak  was  Hippolyte  Bou- 
chard, who  was  married  to  Francois  d'Esparbez  de  Lussan.  The 
three  daughters  whom  he  later  mentions  were:  Jeanne,  Countess  de 
Duretal,  Isabelle,  Baroness  d'Ambleville,  and  Adrienne,  lady  of 
Saint-Bonnet. 

P.  80:  Married  subsequently  to  Francois  d'Esparbez  de  Lusan, 
Marechal  d'Aubeterre. 

P.  83:  Renee  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. 

[342] 


NOTES 


P.  84:     Gabrielle  d'Estrees. 

P.  85:  Popular  song  of  the  day;  Musee  de  Janequin.  See  Recueil 
of  Pierre  Atteignant. 

P.  89:  Renee  Taveau,  married  to  Baron  Mortemart.  Francois  de 
Rochechouart. 

P.  91:  There  is  a  copy  of  this  sixth  discourse  in  the  MS.  4783, 
da  fonds  frangaia,  at  the  Bibliotheque  Nationale:  this  copy  is  from 
the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

P.  92:  Charlotte  de  Savoie,  second  wife  of  Louis  XI.,  daughter  of 
Louis,  Duke  de  Savoie. 

P.  92:  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  con- 
tient  cent  chapitres  ou  histoires,  compasses  ou  r6c\t6e»  far  nou- 
velles  gens  depui»  nagueres, — "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  Col- 
lection 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 
edl  lions,  with  badly  executed  cuts,  printed  at  Cologne,  by  Pierre 
Gaillard,  1701  and  1736  respectively,  2  vols.  8vo. 

P.  93:     By  Bourguignonne  the  King  meant  etrangere  (foreigner). 

[343] 


NOTES 


P.  94:  See  the  sojourn  of  Charles  VIII.  at  Lyons:  Sejours  d« 
Charles  VIII.  et  Louis  XII.  A  Lyon  sur  le  Rosne  jouxte  la  copie  de» 
faicts,  gestes  et  victoires  des  roys  Charles  VIII.  et  Louis  XII.,  Lyon, 
1841. 

P.  94:  Louis  XII.  had  really  been  a  "good  fellow,"  without  men- 
tioning the  laundress  of  the  court,  who  was  rumored  to  be  the  mother 
of  Cardinal  de  Bucy,  he  had  known  at  Genoa  Thomasina  Spinola, 
with  whom,  according  to  Jean  d'Authon,  his  relations  were  purely 
moral. 

P.  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  Bibilotheque  Nationale.)  This  king  maintained, 
as  Brant6me  says,  that  women  are  very  fickle  and  inconstant;  he 
wrote  to  Montmorency  of  his  own  sister  Marguerite  de  Valois,  No- 
vember 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°.) 

P.  98:    Paul  Farnese,  Paul  III.— 1468-1549. 

P.  98:  The  queen  arrived  at  Nice,  June  8,  1538,  where  the  king 
and  Pope  Paul  III.  were.  The  ladies  of  whom  Brantdme  speaks 
should  be  the  Queen  of  Navarre,  Mme.  de  Venddme,  the  Duchess 
d'Etampes,  the  Marquess  de  Rothelin — that  beautiful  Rohan  of  whom 
it  was  said  that  her  husband  would  get  with  child  and  not  she — and 
thirty-eight  gentlewomen.  (Clair.,  336,  fol.  6549.) 

P.  98:  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  Brantome  relates  is  connected  with  the  journey  of 
Clement  VI.  to  Marseilles  at  the  time  of  the  marriage  of  Henri  II., 
then  Duke  d'Or!6ans,  with  the  niece  of  the  pope,  Catherine  de  Medici. 
The  marriage  took  place  at  Marseilles  in  1533. 

P.  100:  Louise  de  Clermont  Tallard,  who  married  as  her  second 
husband  the  Due  d'Uzes.  Jean  de  Taix  was  the  grand  master  of 
artillery. 

P.  107:     He  was  called  Pierre  de  La  Mare,  lord  of  Matha,  master 

[344] 


NOTES 


of  the  horse  to  Marguerite,  sister  of  the  king.  (Bib.  Nat.,  Cabinet 
des  Titres,  art.  Matha.)  Aimee  de  Mere1  was  at  the  court  from  1560 
to  1564.  Hence  this  adventure  took  place  during  that  time.  (Bib. 
Nat.  ms.  francais  7856,  fol.  1136,  v'.) 

P.  108:  Provided  with  "bards,"  plate-armour  used  to  protect  a 
horse's  breast  and  flanks. 

P.  109:  This  Fontaine-Guerin  was  in  all  likelihood  Honorat  de 
Bueil,  lord  of  Fontaine-Guerin,  gentleman  of  the  king's  bed-chamber, 
councillor  of  State,  who  died  in  1590.  He  was  a  great  favorite  of 
Charles  IX. 

P.  112:  The  lady  in  question  was  Francoise  de  Rohan,  dame  de 
La  Garnache,  if  we  are  to  believe  Bayle  in  the  Diet.  Critique,  p.  1317, 
2nd.  ed.,  though  there  would  seem  to  be  some  doubt  about  it.  The 
"very  brave  and  gallant  Prince"  was  the  Due  de  Nemours. 

P.  112:    A  German  dance,  the  Facheltanz. 
P.  113:     Marie  de  Flamin. 

P.  114:  The  son  of  this  lady  was  Henri  d'Angouleme,  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  Renee  de  Rieux-Chateauneuf. 

P.  115:  Le  Tigre — a  pamphlet  by  Francois  Hotman  directed 
against  the  Cardinal  de  Lorraine  and  the  Duchesse  de  Guise,  1560. 

P.  116:     Philibert  de  Marcilly,  lord  of  Cipierre. 

P.  117:  That  pamphlet  was  aimed  at  Anne  d'Este,  Duchess  de 
Guise,  at  the  time  of  her  marriage  with  the  Due  de  Nemours. 

P.  119:  Brant6me  alludes  to  the  hatred  of  the  Duchess  de  Mont- 
pensier. 

P.  120:  Marie  de  Cleves,  who  died  during  her  lying-in  in  1574. 
P.  120:  Catherine  Charlotte  de  La  Tremolle,  Princess  de  Cond6. 
P.  122:  Not  found  anywhere  in  Brantome's  extant  works. 

[345] 


NOTES 


P.  125:  Du  Guast  or  Lignerolles.  However,  it  may  refer  to  Bussy 
d'Amboise. 

P.  126:    Marie  Babou  de  la  B  our  dais  ie  re,  who  married  Claude  de 

Beauvillier  Saint-Aignan  in  1560. 

P.  128:    Plutarch,  Sylla,  cap.  XXX. 

P.  129:  Queen  Maria  of  Hungary,  ruler  of  the  Netherlands,  and 
sister  of  Charles  V. 

P.  129:    Plutarch,  Cato  of  Utica,  cap.  XXXV. 

P.  132:  The  personages  in  question  are  Henri  III.,  Renee  de 
Rieux-Chateauneuf,  then  Mme.  de  Castellane,  and  Marie  de  Cleves, 
wife  of  the  Prince  de  Conde. 

P.  132:  Louis  de  Cond6,  who  deserted  Isabeau  de  La  Tour  de 
Limeuil  to  marry  Francoise  d'Orteans.  The  beauty  of  which  Bran- 
tome  speaks  can  scarcely  be  seen  in  the  portrait  in  crayon  of  Isabeau 
de  Limeuil  who  became  Mme.  de  Sardini. 

P.  135:    Mottoes  were  constantly  used  at  that  time. 

P.  136:  Anne  de  Bourbon,  married  in  1561  to  Francois  de  Cleves, 
Duke  de  Nevers  and  Count  d'Eu. 

P.  146:  The  empress  was  Elizabeth  of  Portugal;  the  Marquis  de 
Villena,  M.  de  Villena;  the  Duke  de  Feria,  Gomez  Suarez  de  Figue- 
roa,  Duke  de  Feria;  Eleonor,  the  Queen  of  Portugal,  later  married 
to  Francois  I"";  Queen  Marie,  the  Queen  of  Hungary. 

P.  147:    Elizabeth,  daughter  of  Henri  II. 

P.  151 :  The  MS.  of  this  discourse  is  at  the  Bibliotheque  Nationale 
(Ms.  fr.  3273) ;  it  is  written  in  a  good  hand  of  the  end  of  the  six- 
teenth century.  It  is  dedicated  to  the  Duke  d'Alen^on. 

P.  152:  Opere  di  G.  Boccaccio,  II  Filicopo,  Firenze,  1723,  t.  II., 
p.  73. 

P.  159:  La  Tournelle  In  the  original.  This  was  the  name  given  to 
the  Criminal  Court  of  the  Parliament  of  Paris. 

[346] 


n®flB«ro«sMsnawOTi»8flWnn 


yi»4t^tw4tW4lW4tX«V4lW4!X»y4lW4l^^^^ 


P.  161:    Barbe  de  Cilley;  she  died  in  1415. 

*i 

P.  166:  Bran  tome  is  undoubtedly  referring  to  Mme.  de  Villequier. 

P.  172:  This  is  again  Isabeau  de  La  Tour  Limeuil. 

P.  178:  See  XXVth  Tale  in  Cent  Novcellet  nowoellet. 

P.  188:  Honor6  Castellan. 

P.  188.  Baron  de  Vitteau  was  this  member  of  the  Du  Prat  family ; 
he  killed  Louis  de  Beranger  du  Guast. 

P.  190:  Chicot  was  Henri  III.'s  jester  who  killed  M.  de  La  Roche- 
foucauld on  Saint  Bartholomew's  Day. 

P.  194:  Alberic  de  Rosate,  under  the  word  "Matrimonium"  in  his 
Dictionary  reports  an  exactly  similar  instance.  Barbatias  has  some- 
thing even  more  extraordinary,  how  a  boy  of  seven  got  his  nurse 
with  child. 

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. 

P.  207:  Jean  de  Rabodanges,  who  married  Marie  de  Cleves, 
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. 

P.  207:  These  eighteen  chevaliers,  who  were  elevated  in  one 
batch,  caused  a  good  deal  of  gossip  at  the  court. 

P.  214:  Louis  de  Beranger  du  Guast. 

P.  216:  She  was  thirty-five;   she  died  three  years  later. 

P.  217:  It  is  the  Chateau  d'Usson  in  Auvergne. 

P.  218:  Louis  de  Saint-gelais-Lansac. 

P.  220:  Jeanne,  married  to  Jean,  Prince  of  Portugal.  She  died 
in  1578. 

[347] 


Ss«.vsv8)(Wlft«n8rtWflft«ffl)^^ 


NOTES 


P.  225:  S£bastien,  died  in  1578.  This  passage  in  Brantome  is 
not  one  of  the  least  irreverent  of  this  hardened  sceptic. 

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. 

P.  228:  The  entanglements  of  which  Brantome  speaks  were:  the 
revolt  of  the  Germanats,  in  Spain,  in  1522;  of  Tunis  or  Barbaric, 
1535;  the  troubles  in  Italy,  also  in  1535;  the  revolt  in  the  Nether- 
lands, provoked  by  the  taxes  imposed  by  Maria,  in  1540.  M.  de 
Chievres  was  Guillaume  de  Croy. 

P.  229:  Folembray,  the  royal  residence  occupied  by  Francois  let 
and  later  by  Henri  II.  Henri  IV.  negotiated  there  with  Mayenne 
during  the  Ligue. 

P.  229:    Bains  en  Hainaut. 


P.  230: 
landray. 


Claude  Blosset,  surnamed  Torcy,  lady  of  Fontaine  Cha- 


P.  234:  Christine  of  Denmark,  daughter  of  Christian  II.,  first  mar- 
ried to  Francesco  Maria  Sforza,  Duke  of  Milan.  In  1540,  five  years 
after  her  husband's  death,  she  married  Francis  I.  of  Lorraine.  Her 
con  was  Charles  II.  of  Lorraine. 

P.  235:    N.  de  La  Brosse-Mailly. 

P.  235:  A  small  plank  attached  to  the  saddle  of  a  lady's  horse, 
and  serving  to  support  the  rider's  feet.  Superseded  by  the  single 
stirrup  and  pommel. 

P.  236:    Guy  du  Faur  de  Pybrac. 

P.  243:     Renee,  wife  of  Guillaume  V.,  Duke  de  Baviere. 

P.  246:  Blanche  de  Montferrat,  wife  of  Charles  ler,  Duke  de 
Savoie;  she  died  in  1509. 

P.  247:    Paradin,  Chronique  de  Seaooye,  III,  85. 

[348] 


^^ 


NOTES 


•  .  •    •    •    •    •••»••    «•    »  .  •    •    «    •    •    •    •••••    • 


P.  247:    The  seneschal's  lady  of  Poitou  was  Mmc.  de  Vivonne. 

P.  249:  Nicolas  de  Lorraine- Vaudemont,  father-in-law  of  Henri 
III. 

P.  249: — Franchise  d'Orleans,  widow  of  Louis,  Prince  de  Condi. 

P.  250:  Louise,  daughter  of  Nicolas  de  Lorraine- Vaudemont,  mar- 
ried in  1575;  she  died  in  1601. 

P.  252:    Jean  de  Talleyrand,  former  ambassador  at  Rome. 

P.  256:  Marguerite  de  Lorraine,  whose  second  marriage  was  with 
Francois  de  Luxembourg,  Duke  de  Piney. 

P.  256:    Mayenne,  Duke  du  Maine. 
P.  256:    Aymard  de  Chastes. 

P.  256:  Refers  of  course  to  the  assassination  of  Henri  III.,  by 
the  monk  Clement  (1589). 

P.  257:    Catherine  de  Lorraine. 

P.  273:     Jean  Dorat,  died  in  1588.    Louis  de  Beranger  du  Guast. 

P.  280:    Caesar  Borgia,  son  of  Pope  Alexander  VI. 

P.  280:  Thomas  de  Foix,  lord  of  Lescun,  brother  of  Mme.  dc 
Chateaubriant. 

P.  280:    Piero  Strozzi,  Field  Marshal  of  France. 

P.  281:  Jean  de  Bourdeille,  brother  of  Brantdme.  He  died  at 
the  age  of  twenty-five  at  the  siege  of  Hesdin.  It  was  from  him  that 
the  joint  title  of  Brantome  passed  on  to  our  author. 

P.  281:    Henri  de  Clermont,  Viscount  de  Tallard. 

P.  281:  Andr6  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 

[349] 


NOTES 


rebuking  this  lady  for  her  love  affairs,  said  her  only  delight  was  in 
le  jeune  et  I'oraiaon, — fast  and  prayer. 

P.  282:  This  widow  of  a  Field  Marshal  of  France  was  very  likely 
the  lady  of  Field  Marshal  de  Saint-Andre1.  She  wedded  as  a  second 
husband  Geoff roi  de  Caumont,  abbe  de  Clairac.  She  called  herself 
Marguerite  de  Lustrac.  As  for  Brantdme's  aunt,  it  should  be 
Philippe  de  Beaupoil;  she  married  La  Chasteignerie,  and  as  a 
second  husband  Francois  de  Caumont  d'Aym6. 

P.  285:  Anne  d'Anglure  de  Givry,  son  of  Jeanne  Chabot  and 
Ren6  d'Anglure  de  Givry.  Jeanne  married  as  a  second  husband 
Field  Marshal  de  La  Chastre. 

P.  285:    Jean  du  Bellay  and  Blanche  de  Tournon. 

P.  288:  Odet  de  Coligny,  Cardinal  de  Chastillon,  married  to  Eliza- 
beth de  Hauteville. 

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. 

P.  293:  About  the  year  400  of  the  Christian  era,  St.  Jerome  wit- 
nessed the  woman's  funeral,  and  he  it  is  reports  the  fact  mentioned 
in  the  text.  Epist.  ad  Ageruchiam,  De  Monogamia. 

P.  293:    Charles  de  Rochechouart. 

P.  302:    Scio  was  taken  in  1566  by  the  Turks. 

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. 

P.  310:  L'histoire  et  Plaisante  cronique  du  Petit  Jehan  de  Sain- 
tre,  par  Antoine  de  La  Salle.  Paris,  1517. 

P.  312:    XLVth  Tale. 

P.  316:  An  allusion  to  the  affair  of  Jarnac,  who  killed  La  Chas- 
teignerie, Brantfime's  uncle,  in  a  duel  (1547)  with  an  unexpected  and 
decisive  thrust  of  the  sword. 

[350] 


NOTES 


P.  316:  Alesandro  de  Medici,  killed,  in  1637,  by  his  cousin  Loren- 
cino. 

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. 

P.  317:     Mme.  de  Chateaubriant. 

P.  318:    Perhaps  Marguerite  de  Valois  and  the  ugly  Martigues. 

P.  321:  The  one-eyed  Princess  d'Kboli  and  the  famous  Antonio 
Perez. 

P.  323:    Jeanne  de  Poupincourt. 

P.  324:  Anne  de  Berri,  Lady  de  Certeau,  at  the  court  in  1583. 
Helene  de  Fonseques. 

P.  824:    This  princess  was  very  ugly. 

P.  330:  In  the  sixteenth  century  it  was  customary  to  whip  lazy 
people  in  bed.  See  Marot's  epigram:  Du  Jour  des  Innocens. 


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