gentleman to court his wife more assiduously than ever. This he did,
being right glad under this pretext to be lover to so fair a lady and
so great a Princess, who soon made him forget his other mistress he had
been fain to wed, and scarce to think of her again, except to find her
a convenient mask to dissemble and cover up the whole thing withal.
Even so could the Prince not help but feel some pangs of jealousy when
one day he did see the said gentleman in the Queen’s chamber wearing on
his arm a ribband of Spanish scarlet, which had just been brought to
Court as a fine novelty, and which he did touch and handle as he talked
with him; then going to find his wife who was by the Queen’s bedside,
lo! he saw she had one that was its very match, which he did likewise
touch and handle and proved it to be like it in all respects and part
of the same piece as the other. Yet did he breathe never a word, nor
take any steps in the matter. And indeed in such intrigues it is
very needful to cover up their fires with such cinders of discretion
and good counsel as that they may never be discovered; for very oft
such discovery of the scandal will anger husbands far more against
their wives than when the same is done, but all in secret,—herein
illustrating the proverb, _Si non caste, tamen caute_,—“If not with
virtue, at any rate with prudence.”
What terrible scandals and great incommodities have I seen in my time
arise from the indiscretions of ladies and their lovers! Yet would the
husbands have cared naught at all about the thing, if only they had
done their doings _sotto coperte_ (under cover, under the rose), as the
saying is, and the matter had never seen the light.
I knew one dame who was all for manifesting quite openly her loves and
preferences, which she did indulge as if she had had no husband at
all, and had been her own mistress entirely, refusing to listen to the
counsels of her friends and lovers, who did remonstrate with her and
point out the inconveniences she was exposing herself to. And of these
she did later reap a sore harvest!
This lady did otherwise than many worthy dames have done at all times,
who have gaily enjoyed love and lived a merry life, yet have never
given much evidence thereof to the world, except mayhap some small
suspicions, that could scarce have revealed the truth even to the
most clear-sighted. For they would address their lovers in public so
dexterously, and deal with them so adroitly, that neither husbands
nor spies, all their life long, could ever get aught to bite at. And
when their favourites departed on some journey, or came to die, they
would dissemble and conceal their grief so cunningly that none ever
discovered aught.
I knew a fair and honourable lady, who the day a certain great Lord,
her lover, died, did appear in the Queen’s chamber with a countenance
as gay and smiling as the day before. Some did think highly of her
for such discretion, deeming she did so for fear of doing the King
displeasure and angering him, for that he liked not the man deceased.
Others blamed her, attributing this bearing rather to the lack of true
love, wherein ’twas said she was but poorly furnished, like all women
who lead the life she did.
I knew on the other hand two fair and honourable ladies, who having
lost their lovers in a misadventure of war, did make great sorrow
and lamentation, and did make manifest their mourning by their dusky
weeds, and eke holy-water vessels and sprinklers of gold engraven with
figures, and death’s-heads, and all kinds of trophies of dissolution,
in their trinkets, jewels and bracelets which they wear. All this did
bring much scandal upon them and was greatly to their hurt; though
their husbands did take no special heed thereof.[66*]
This is how these ladies do themselves hurt by the making public their
amours; these we may rightly praise and esteem for their constancy,
though not for their discretion, for on this last count what they do is
much to their disadvantage.
And if ladies so doing are blameworthy, there be many likewise among
their lovers which do deserve reprimand quite as much as they. For they
will ever be putting on looks as they were half dead, like she-goats
in kid, and a most languorous mien, making eyes and casting appealing
glances, indulging in passionate gestures and lovesick sighs in
company, openly bedecking themselves with their ladies’ colours,—in a
word giving way to so many silly indiscretions that a blind man could
scarce fail to note them. Some of them moreover do the like more in
pretence than in reality, desiring to let all the Court understand they
are in love in an high quarter, and are happy in their amours. Whereas,
God wot, it may well be the ladies would not give them so much as one
poor farthing in alms, to save their repute for deeds of charity!
I do know well a certain nobleman and great Lord, who desiring to
satisfy the world he was the lover of a fair and honourable lady that I
know of, had his little mule held in front of her door, with a couple
of his lackeys and pages. As it fell out, M. d’Estrozze[67*] and myself
did pass that way, and beheld this mystery of the mule and the man’s
pages and lackeys. He asked instantly where was their master, and they
replied he was within, in the lady’s house. Hereupon M. d’Estrozze
burst out a-laughing, and turning to me, said he would wager his life
he was not there at all. And in a moment after he posted his page
as sentinel to watch if the pretended lover should come forth; then
quickly we hied us to the Queen’s chamber, where we found our man,—not
without some laughter betwixt him and me.
Then towards evening we went to greet him, and pretending to quarrel
with him, did ask him where he was at such and such an hour of the
afternoon, and how that he could not deceive us, as we had seen his
mule and his pages before the said lady’s door. But the fellow, making
as though he were vexed we had seen so much and were for this cause
attacking him for carrying out an intrigue in this high quarter, did
confess he was there in very truth. At the same time he besought us not
to breathe a word; else should we bring him into sore trouble, and the
poor lady would incur scandal and the displeasure of her husband. And
this we did faithfully promise him,—laughing all the while heartily
and making mock at him, albeit he was a nobleman of no small rank and
quality, and declaring we would not speak of the thing, and never a
syllable pass our lips.
Finally after some days during which he did continue his trick with the
mule too often for our patience, we did discover our artfulness to him,
and attacked him with right good will and in good company. This made
him desist for very shame, and indeed the lady did know of it by this
time through our information, and had the mule and the pages watched
one day and incontinently driven away from her door like beggars in
front of an inn. Nay! we did even better, for we told the tale to
the husband, and that in such merry wise he found it right diverting
and laughed heartily at the thing, saying he had no fear this fellow
would make him cuckold, and that if ever he should find the said mule
and pages stationed at his door, he would have the gates opened and
invite them inside, to the end they might be more at ease and sheltered
from heat, cold or rain. Not but what others all the whole while were
cuckolding him soundly enough. And this is how this noble Lord was
fain, at the expense of an honourable lady and her repute, to exalt
himself, without any heed to the scandal he might cause thereby.
I knew another nobleman who did bring sore scandal on a very fair and
honourable lady by his behaviour. He had for some while been in love
with her, and did urge her to grant him the little tit-bit reserved
for her husband’s mouth, but she did refuse him flatly. At last, after
several refusals, he said to her, as if in despair, “Well, if you
won’t, why, you won’t; but I give you my oath I will ruin your honour
and repute.” And to this end he bethought him to make many comings
and goings in secret, yet not so secret but that he made himself seen
of set purpose by sundry eyes, and let himself be noted by day and by
night frequenting the house where she dwelt. Then he would be ever
vaunting and boasting under the rose of his pretended successes, and
in company seeking out the lady with more familiarity than he had any
call to do, and among his comrades swaggering as the happy lover, and
this all in mere pretence. The end was that one night having slipped
in very late into the said lady’s bedchamber, all muffled in his cloak
and hiding from the folk of the house, and after playing sundry of his
stealthy tricks, he was suspected by the seneschal of the household,
who had a watch set. And though they could not find him, yet did the
husband beat his wife and give her several buffets; but later, urged
thereto by the seneschal, who said it was not punishment enough,
did stab her and kill her; and readily won his pardon therefor from
the King. A sad pity truly for the poor lady, who was very fair and
beauteous. Afterward the nobleman, which had been cause of all the
mischief, did not fare far or well, but was killed in a passage of war,
by God’s good will, for having so unjustly robbed an honourable lady of
her good name and her life.
11.
To tell the truth as to this example and a host of others I have seen,
there are some ladies which do themselves great wrong, and which are
the true cause of the scandal and dishonour they incur. For ’tis
themselves that do provoke the first skirmishes and purposely draw the
gallants to them, from the beginning lavishing on them the fondest
caresses, favours and familiarities, raising their hopes by all sorts
of gentle wiles and flattering words. Yet when it cometh to the point,
they will refuse outright, in such wise that the honourable gentlemen
which had promised themselves many a pleasant treat of their person,
fall into anger and despair and quit them with harsh words. So they
depart abusing them and giving them out for the biggest strumpets in
all the world, and make out an hundredfold worse tale of their demerits
than is really deserved.
And this is why an honourable lady should never set herself to draw
a gallant to her, and suffer him to be her servant, if she will not
satisfy him at the last according to his deserts and loving service.
It behooves her to realize this, unless she would be undone, even when
she hath to do with an honourable and gallant man; else from the first
beginning, when he doth first accost her, and she sees it is with
this end so much desired in view, that he pay his vows to her, but
she feeleth no desire to gratify him herein, she should give him his
dismissal at the very threshold. For indeed, to speak quite candidly,
any woman that doth suffer a lover to court her, doth lay herself under
such obligation that she cannot withdraw afterward from the fight.
She is bound to come to it sooner or later, long though the coming may
sometimes be.
There be some dames, however, whose joy is to be served for nothing,
but only for the light of their bright eyes. They say they love to be
served and courted, that this is their great happiness, and not to
come to the final act at all. Their pleasure, they declare, doth lie
in wishing for it, not in actually performing of it. I have known many
ladies which have told me this. Yet can they never stop there; for if
once they do begin wishing for it, without shadow of doubt they will
some day come to the doing of it as well. For this is the law of love,
that when once a woman doth wish or hope, or but dream of wishing and
desiring a man for herself, the thing is done. If only the man know it,
and steadily follow up his fair assailant, he will surely have leg or
wing, fur or feathers, as they say.
In this wise then are poor husbands made cuckold by such thoughts on
the part of ladies, who are ready to wish forsooth, but not to do. For
truly, without suspecting it, they will of their own fault be burned in
the candle, or at the fire they have themselves built. Like poor simple
shepherdesses, which to warm themselves in the fields as they watch
their sheep and lambs, do kindle a little fire, without thought of any
harm or ill to follow. But they give no heed to the chance their little
fire may set so great an one ablaze as will burn up a whole countryside
of plains and woods.
’Twere well if such ladies would take example, to teach them wisdom,
of the Comtesse d’Escaldasor, a very fair lady dwelling at Pavia, to
whom M. de Lescu, afterward known as the Maréchal de Foix, was paying
court. He was then a student at Pavia, and was called the Protonotary
de Foix, seeing he was destined for the Church, though afterward he did
quit the long robe to adopt the profession of arms. And he might well
love her, seeing at that day she bare the bell for beauty over all the
ladies of Lombardy. So seeing herself hotly pressed by him, yet not
wishing to rudely disoblige him or dismiss him roughly, for he was a
near kinsman of the renowned Gaston de Foix,[68*] at whose fame all
Italy trembled in those days, the Countess on a day of high festivity
and state at Pavia, whereat all the fairest ladies of the city and
neighbourhood were gathered and many noble gentlemen, did appear,
the fairest of them all, superbly attired in a robe of sky blue, all
trimmed and bespangled over all its length and breadth with torches
and butterflies fluttering round them and burning themselves in their
flame. The whole was in broidery of gold and silver, for truly the
embroiderers of Milan have ever surpassed those of all the rest of the
world, and won the lady the general repute of being the best adorned of
all the company there present.
Then the Protonotary, leading her out to the dance, was moved to ask
her what might be the meaning of the designs on her robe, strongly
suspecting there lay beneath some hidden signification unfavourable to
him. She made answer in these words, “Sir, I have had my robe fashioned
thus, just as soldiers and horsemen do with their horses when they are
wild and vicious, and kick and fling out their heels. For they do fix
on their crupper a big silver bell, to the end that this signal may
warn their comrades, when they are riding in a close press of company,
to take heed of the vicious kicker, lest he do them an injury. In like
wise by my fluttering butterflies, burning themselves in these torches,
I do warn those honourable gentlemen which do me the favour of loving
me and admiring my beauty, not to come too nigh, nor to desire aught
else, but only the sight of me. For they will gain nothing thereby, but
only like the butterflies,—to long, and burn, and get no satisfaction.”
The story is writ in the _Emblems_ of Paulus Jovius.[69] In this
fashion did she warn her lover to take heed for himself in time. I know
not whether or no he did come more nigh, or what he did. But later,
being wounded to the death at the battle of Pavia, and taken prisoner,
he begged to be carried to the house of this same Countess at Pavia,
where he was very well received and tended by her. In three days’ time
he died there, to the great sorrow of the lady, as I did hear the story
told me by M. de Monluc, one time we were together in the trenches at
Rochelle. It was night and we were talking together, when I related to
him the tale of the robe and its device; on this he assured me he had
seen the said Countess, who was very fair, and did love the Maréchal
well, and how he had been most honourably entreated of her. For the
rest he knew not if ever they had gone further at all. This example
should be warning enough for many of the ladies the which I have spoken
of above.
Then again, there be cuckolds which are so righteous they have their
wives preached to and admonished by good and religious men, with a view
to their conversion and reform. And these, with forced tears and words
of pretended sorrow, do make many vows, promising mountains and marvels
of repentance, and never, never to do the like again. But their oaths
do scarce endure an instant, for truly the vows and tears of suchlike
dames are of just so much weight as are the oaths and adjurations of
lovers. So have I seen and known well a certain lady to the which a
great Prince, her Sovereign, did offer the affront of commissioning
appointing a Cordelier monk, as from himself and coming from the Court,
to go find her husband, who was spending his vacation on his estate, to
warn the same of his wife’s reckless loves and the ill report current
of the wrong she was doing him, and to say how, for the respect due
to his position and office, he was sending him timely news thereof,
to the end he might correct this sinful soul. The husband was greatly
astounded and moved at such a message and kindly warning; yet did take
no overt action, except only to thank his Prince and assure him he
would see to the matter. Yet on his return he did make no difference
for the worse in his treatment of his wife; for truly what would he
have gained thereby? Once a woman hath taken to these courses, naught
will alter her, like a posthorse which is grown so thoroughly used to
go at the gallop that he can in no wise learn to go any other gait
whatsoever.
Alas! how oft have we seen honourable ladies which, having been
surprised at these tricks, and thereupon chid and beaten, yea! and
admonished by every prayer and remonstrance not to return to the like
course, do promise, protest and swear they will behave them chastely,
yet do presently illustrate the proverb, _passato il periglio, gabbato
il santo_ (the danger past, the Saint is mocked), and return again with
all the more zest to the game of love. Nay! many have we seen, which
themselves feeling some worm of remorse gnawing their soul, have of
their proper act made holy and right solemn vows of reformation, yet
have never kept them, but presently have repented of their repentance,
as M. du Bellay doth say of penitent courtesans:[70]
Mère d’amour, suivant mes premiers vœux,
Dessous tes lois remettre je me veux,
Dont je voudrois n’estre jamais sortie;
Et me repens de m’estre repentie.
(Mother of love, returning to my earlier vows, I am fain to put me
again beneath thy laws, which I would I had never deserted; lo! I
repent me of my penitence.)
Such women declare ’tis exceeding hard to give up forever so sweet a
habit and fond custom, seeing their time is so short in this brief
sojourn they make in this world.
To confirm what I here say I would readily appeal to many a fair maid,
which hath repented in youth and taken the veil and become a nun. If
such were asked on her faith and conscience what she did really desire,
many a time, I know, she would say, “Ah! would the high convent walls
were broken down, that I might straight be free again!”
Wherefore husbands need never think to reduce their wives to order
again, after once these have made the first breach in their honour,
or that they can aught else but only give them the rein, merely
recommending discretion and all possible avoidance of scandal. For
truly we may apply all the remedies of love which ever Ovid taught, and
an host of other subtle remedies that others have invented, yea! and
those puissant ones of François Rabelais,[70] which he did teach to the
venerable Panurge, yet will none of them all avail. But ’twere best of
all to follow the advice given in the refrain of an old song of King
Francis’ time, which saith,
Qui voudroit garder qu’une femme
N’aille du tout à l’abandon,
Il faudroit la fermer dans une pipe,
Et en jouir par le bondon.
(If a man would make sure of his wife never going to the bad at
all, he had best shut her up in a cask, and enjoy her through the
bung-hole.)
In the reign of the late King Henri of France there was a certain
jeweller which did import and expose for sale at the great Fair of St.
Germains a round dozen of a certain contrivance for confining women’s
affairs.[71] These were made of iron and were worn like a belt, joining
underneath and locking with a key, and were so cunningly framed that
the woman, once confined therein, could never find opportunity for the
pleasures of love, there being only a few little tiny holes in the
thing for _empissoyent_ through.
’Tis said that five or six jealous husbands were found ready to buy
one, wherewith they did confine their wives in such wise they might
well say, “Good-bye, good times for ever and aye!” Yet was there one
wife who bethought her to apply to a locksmith very cunning in his art.
So, when she had shown him the said contrivance, her husband being
away in the country, he did so well use his ingenuity that he forged
a false key therefor, so that the good lady could open and shut the
thing at any time, whenever she would. The husband did never suspect or
say a word, while the wife took her fill of the best of all pleasures,
in spite of the jealous fool and silly cuckold her husband, who did
imagine all the time he was living free of all apprehension of such a
fate. But truly the naughty locksmith, which made the false key, quite
spoiled his game; yea! and did even better, by what they say, for he
was the first who tasted the dainty, and cuckolded him. Nor was this
so extraordinary, for did not Venus, which was the fairest woman and
harlot in all the world, mate with Vulcan, ironworker and locksmith,
the which was exceeding mean-looking, foul, lame and hideous.
They say, moreover, that there were a number of gallant and honourable
gentlemen of the Court which did threaten the jeweller that if ever
again he should have aught to do with bringing such villainies with
him, he would be killed. They bade him never come back again, and made
him throw all the others that were left into the draught-house; and
since then no more has been heard of such contrivances. And this was
wisely done; for truly ’twas as good, or as bad, as destroying one half
of mankind, so to hinder the engendering of posterity by dint of such
confining, locking up and imprisoning of nature,—an abominable and
hateful wrong to human productiveness.
Some there be which do give their wives into the hands of eunuchs to
guard their honour, a thing which the Emperor Alexander Severus did
strongly reprobate, harshly bidding them never have dealings with Roman
ladies.[72*] But they were soon recalled again. Not indeed that these
could ever beget children or the women conceive of them; yet can they
afford some slight feeling and superficial taste of minor pleasures,
giving some colourable imitation of the complete and perfect bliss. Of
this many husbands do take very little account, declaring that their
main grievance in the adultery of their wives had naught at all to do
with what they got given them, but that it vexed them sore to have
to rear and bring up and recognise as heirs children they had never
begotten.
Indeed but for this, there is nothing they would have made less ado
about. Thus have I known not a few husbands, who when they did find the
lovers, who had made their wives children, to be easy and good-natured,
and ready to give freely and keep them, took no more account of the
thing at all, or even advised their wives to beg of them and crave some
allowance to keep the little one they had had of them.
So have I heard tell of a great lady, which was the mother of
Villeconnin,[73*] natural son of Francis I. The same did beseech the
King to give or assign her some little property, before he died, for
the child he had begot,—and this he did. He made over for this end
two hundred thousand crowns in bank, which did profit him well and
ran on ever growing, what with interest and re-investment, in such
wise that it became a great sum and he did spend money with such
magnificence and seemed in such good case and ample funds at Court that
all were astonished thereat. And all thought he enjoyed the favours
of some mysterious lady. None believed her his mother, but, seeing he
never went about without her, it was universally supposed the great
expenditure he made did come from his connexion with her. Yet it
was not so at all, for she was really his mother; though few people
were ware of it. Nor was anything known for sure of his lineage or
birth, except that he eventually died at Constantinople, and that his
inheritance as King’s bastard was given to the Maréchal de Retz, who
was keen and cunning enough to have discovered this little secret which
he was able to turn to his profit, and did verify the bastardy which
had been so long hid. Thus he did win the gift of this inheritance
over the head of M. de Teligny, who had been constituted heir of the
aforesaid Villeconnin.
Other folk, however, declared that the said lady had had the child by
another than the King, and had so enriched him out of her own fortune.
But M. de Retz did scrutinize and search among the banks so carefully
that he did find the money and the original securities of King Francis.
For all this some still held the child to have been the son of another
Prince not so high as the King, or some one else of inferior rank,
maintaining that for the purpose of covering up and concealing the
whole thing and yet providing the child a maintenance, ’twas no bad
device to lay it all to his Majesty’s account, as indeed hath been done
in other instances.