I LEFT the Jupiter there, meaning to depart the next morning. Before I
took horse, one thousand crowns were paid me, partly for my salary, and
partly on account of monies I had disbursed. Having received this sum, I
returned with a light heart and satisfied to Paris. No sooner had I
reached home and dined with merry cheer, than I called for all my
wardrobe, which included a great many suits of silk, choice furs, and
also very fine cloth stuffs. From these I selected presents for my
workpeople, giving each something according to his own desert, down to
the servant-girls and stable-boys, in order to encourage them to aid me
heartily.
Being then refreshed in strength and spirits, I attacked the great
statue of Mars, which I had set up solidly upon a frame of
well-connected woodwork. [1] Over this there lay a crust of plaster,
about the eighth of a cubit in thickness, carefully modelled for the
flesh of the Colossus. Lastly, I prepared a great number of moulds in
separate pieces to compose the figure, intending to dovetail them
together in accordance with the rules of art; and this task involved no
difficulty.
I will not here omit to relate something which may serve to give a
notion of the size of this great work, and is at the same time highly
comic. It must first be mentioned that I had forbidden all the men who
lived at my cost to bring light women into my house or anywhere within
the castle precincts. Upon this point of discipline I was extremely
strict. Now may lad Ascanio loved a very handsome girl, who returned his
passion. One day she gave her mother the slip, and came to see Ascanio
at night. Finding that she would not take her leave, and being driven to
his wits’ ends to conceal her, like a person of resources, he hit at
last upon the plan of installing her inside the statue. There, in the
head itself, he made her up a place to sleep in; this lodging she
occupied some time, and he used to bring her forth at whiles with
secrecy at night. I meanwhile having brought this part of the Colossus
almost to completion, left it alone, and indulged my vanity a bit by
exposing it to sight; it could, indeed be seen by more than half Paris.
The neighbours, therefore, took to climbing their house-roofs, and
crowds came on purpose to enjoy the spectacle. Now there was a legend in
the city that my castle had from olden times been haunted by a spirit,
though I never noticed anything to confirm this belief; and folk in
Paris called it popularly by the name of Lemmonio Boreò. [2] The girl,
while she sojourned in the statue’s head, could not prevent some of her
movements to and fro from being perceptible through its eye-holes; this
made stupid people say that the ghost had got into the body of the
figure, and was setting its eyes in motion, and its mouth, as though it
were about to talk. Many of them went away in terror; others, more
incredulous, came to observe the phenomenon, and when they were unable
to deny the flashing of the statue’s eyes, they too declared their
credence in a spirit--not guessing that there was a spirit there, and
sound young flesh to boot.
Note 1. This was what he called the Colossus above, p. 310. He meant it
for the fountain of Fontainebleau. See p. 295.
Note 2. Properly, 'Le Moine Bourru,' the ghost of a monk dressed in
drugget ('bure'). Le Petit Nesle had a bad reputation on account of the
murders said to have been committed there in the fourteenth century by
Queen Jeanne, wife of Philip V.