amorous pleasure, neither man nor woman reck aught of any other thing
or thought whatever, but only what they are at for the instant; albeit
on the other hand I have it on good authority how many dames have
persuaded their lovers that, when they were at it with their husbands,
they would ever give their thoughts to their lovers, and not reck at
all of their husbands, in order to get the greater pleasure therefrom.
So likewise have I heard husbands declare that when with their wives,
they would be alway thinking of their mistresses with the like object.
But these be disagreeable subjects!
Natural philosophers have told me that none but the present object
of passion can possibly dominate them at this crisis, and in no wise
the absent; and give many reasons for their opinion. However I am not
philosopher enough nor sufficiently learned to contradict them; and
besides sundry of their reasons are filthy ones, and I would fain ever
preserve decency. But for these predilections for all-favoured loves, I
have seen many such in my day that have astonished me an hundred times
over.
Returning once from a journey in a foreign land,—I will not give the
name, for fear men should recognise whereof I speak,—and discoursing
with a noble lady of the great world, I chanced to speak of another
great lady and Princess, the which I had seen in those parts; whereupon
she did ask me as to this latter’s love affairs. So I told her the name
of the personage whom she held favourite, one that was neither handsome
nor of graceful presence, and of very low degree. Her reply was,
“Verily she doth herself great wrong, and eke plays love a sorry trick,
seeing she is so fair and honourable a lady, as all men hold.”[80*]
And the said lady was surely right in the language she held, for that
herself did act accordingly, and gainsaid not her opinions. For she
had a worthy and honourable lover, whom she cherished right well. And
when all is said, a fair lady will be doing no harm in loving, if
only she will choose a worthy object of her love, nor wronging her
husband neither,—if for no other reason, at least for the sake of their
descendants. This, seeing there be husbands that are so ill-favoured,
so stupid, senseless and silly, so graceless and cowardly, so poor
spirited and good for naught, that their wives, having children of them
and like them, might as well have none at all. And indeed myself have
known many ladies, which have borne children to suchlike husbands, and
these have been all of them just like their fathers; yet afterward,
when they have e’en borrowed one or two from their lovers, these have
surpassed their supposed fathers, their brothers and sisters in all
things whatsoever.
Some, moreover, among philosophers which have treated of this matter,
have always maintained how that children thus borrowed by stealth, or
stolen, if you will, thus engendered under the rose, and on the spur
of the moment, are ever far more gallant, and recall more the merry
fashion wherein they are used to be created, nimbly and cleverly, than
such as are begot in bed, heavily, dully, ponderously, at leisure,
their parents more than half asleep the while, giving never a thought
but of brutish satisfaction to the pleasure in hand.
In like wise have I heard them that have charge of the stud-farms of
kings and great lords say how they have many a time seen better foals
got stealthily by their dams than others bred with every precaution
by the masters of the stud, and from stallions specially chosen and
assigned thereto. And so it is with human beings.
How many cases have I seen where ladies have borne handsomer and braver
and more excellent children than they would have done, if the putative
fathers had really begotten them,—mere calves and brute beasts as they
would then have been.
A good reason why women are well advised to seek the help and commodity
of good and handsome stallions, to the end they may produce good
offspring. Yet I have seen on the other hand some which had handsome
husbands, but did nevertheless call in the aid of ill-favoured
lovers and base stallions, which did beget ugly and evil-conditioned
descendants.
This indeed is one of the most signal commodities and incommodities of
the state of cuckoldry.
I once knew a great lady of society which had an exceeding ill-favoured
and ill-bred husband; and of four girls and two boys she had, there
were only two good for aught, being children of her lover, while the
others, coming of her scrub of a husband,—I had all but said her
screech-owl of a husband, for truly he had all the look of one,—were
but poor misbegotten creatures.
Now herein doth it behoove ladies to be very well advised and cunning
withal, for as a rule children do resemble their fathers, and whenas
they do not so, bring grave suspicion on their mothers’ honour. So have
I seen in my life many fair ladies possessed of this craze, to have it
said and thought of all the world that their children do altogether
resemble their father and not themselves, though really they are not
the least like them. For to say so is the greatest pleasure one can do
them, seeing there is then presumption they have not borrowed them from
any other, however opposite the truth may really be.
One time I was present at a great assemblage of the Court, whereat folk
were discussing the portraits of two daughters of a certain very great
Queen. Each stated his opinion as to whom they did resemble, in such
wise that all, men and women, declared they took altogether after the
mother. But I, being a most humble servant and admirer of the mother,
did hold the other side, and maintained stoutly they took entirely
after the father, and that if only they had known and seen the same
as intimately as I had, they would grant me it was so. Whereupon the
Queen’s sister did thank me for my words, and was exceeding grateful to
me, seeing there were sundry persons, which did say what they did, of
set purpose, to raise suspicion of her going astray in love,—the more
that there _was_ something of dust in her flute, as the saying is. Thus
did my judgement as to the children’s likeness to their father put all
right again. Wherefore in this matter, whosoever shall love a lady and
shall be looking upon children of her blood and bone, let him alway
declare these do take after the father altogether, whether it be so or
no.[81*]
True they will do no hurt, if they maintain the children take a little
after the mother, as was said by a gentleman of the Court, a chief
friend of mine, speaking in company of two gentlemen, brothers and high
favourites with the King. Being asked which they were like, the father
or mother, he did make answer that the one which was cold was like the
father, and the other, which was hot, the mother. By this quip giving a
pretty stroke at the mother, who was of a somewhat hot complexion. And
as a matter of fact these two children did partake of these two several
humours, the hot and the cold.
There is yet another sort of cuckolds, they which are made such by
reason of the scorn they show their wives. Thus I have known several
who, though having fair and honourable dames to wife, did take no
account of them, but would ever scorn and disdain them. These being
sharp of wit and full of spirit, and of good family to boot, seeing
themselves so disdained, did proceed to pay them back in their own
coin. Quick was there fine love making, and quick the accomplishment of
the same; for as saith the Italian and Neapolitan catch, _amor non si
vince con altro che con sdegno_—“love is mastered by scorn, and scorn
only.”
For so a fair and honourable lady, and one that doth know herself
such and taketh pride therein, seeing her husband treating her with
mere disdain, though she should bear him the fondest wifely love in
the world, and albeit they should preach and put before her all the
commands of the law to love and honour him, yet if she have the least
spark of spirit, will she leave him in the lurch and take a lover
elsewhere to help her in her little needs, and choose her out some
private pleasure of her own.
I knew once two ladies of the Court, that were sisters-in-law. Of these
the one had married an husband which was high in favour, a courtier
and an adroit one.[82*] Yet did he not make such account of his wife
as it behooved, seeing the birth she was of, but would speak to her
before company as she were a mere savage, and treat her very roughly.
This behaviour she did endure patiently for a while, till at length the
husband did fall something out of favour. Then noting her opportunity
and taking it cleverly as it came, having indeed waited for a good one,
she straightway paid him back the scorn he had put on her, lightly
and gaily making the poor man cuckold. And her sister did likewise,
following her example. This last had been wed when very young and of
tender years, so that her husband took no great heed of her, deeming
her a mere chit and child, and did not love her as he should. But she
coming to a riper time of life, and finding out she had a heart and was
fair to look on, did soon pay him back in his own coin, and so made
him a present of a fine pair of horns by way of interest on his past
neglect.
Another time I knew a great Lord, which having taken two courtesans
into favour, whereof one was a Moorish woman, to be his delight and
joy of heart, did make no account of his wife, albeit she did seek to
him with all due respect, and all the wifely love and reverence ever
she could. Yet could he never look upon her with a favourable eye, or
cherish her with a good grace, and of an hundred nights he would hardly
bestow twain on her. What must she do then, the poor girl, after so
many indignities, but what she did,—choose another vacant bed, and
couple with another better half, and so take that she was fain of?[83*]
At least she had been justified, if the husband had been like another
I know of, who was of a like humour, and being pressed by his wife, a
very fair lady and one that did take her joy elsewhere than at home,
did tell her frankly: “Well! well! take your pleasures abroad; I
give you full leave. Do on your part what you please with another; I
leave you in perfect liberty. Only make no trouble about my amours,
and suffer me to do as I like. I will never hinder your pleasures and
satisfaction; so do not you hinder mine.” So, each independent of the
other, the twain did go forth on their merry way, one to right, the
other to left, without a thought or care for one another; a good and
happy life truly!
No less should I commend a certain old man I knew once, who being
impotent, sickly and gouty, did say thus one fine day to his wife, who
was very fair, seeing clearly he could not satisfy her as she was fain
to be dealt with: “I know right well, my pretty, how that my impotence
accords ill with your heartsome years. This may well make me odious
to you, and render it impossible to you to be my loving wife, as if I
could to you the regular offices a strong, robust husband should. So I
have thought good to suffer you and grant you full freedom to love some
other, and borrow one that may satisfy you better than I can. But above
all, I pray you choose out one that is discreet and modest, and will in
no wise bring scandal on you, nor on me neither. And may he make you a
pair of fine lads, the which I will love and rear as my own, in such
wise that all men shall think them our own true and lawful offspring.
And this is the more possible, seeing I have still in me some show of
vigour and strength, and appearance enough of bodily manhood to make
folk suppose them mine.”
I leave you to suppose whether the fair girl was glad to receive this
agreeable little homily, and free leave to enjoy such pleasing liberty.
This she did turn to such good account that in a twinkling she did
people the house with two or three fine infants, wherein the husband,
inasmuch as he did touch her at times and sleep with her, might deem he
had some share, and did actually think so, and the neighbours and every
one. In such wise were both husband and wife well pleased, and had good
progeny, to boot.
Here again is another sort of cuckolds, they which are made so by
reason of an amiable opinion certain women hold, to wit that there is
no thing nobler and more lawful and more commendable than Charity. And
by Charity they say they mean not merely giving to the poor who have
need of succour and assistance from the wealth and abundance of the
rich, but likewise helping to assuage the flames of poor languishing
lovers that one sees consuming with the fire of an ardent passion. “For
of a truth,” they declare, “what can be more charitable than to restore
life to one we see dying, and to quite refresh again the man thus
consuming away?” So says that brave Paladin, the Seigneur de Montauban,
upholding the fair Genevra in Ariosto, who doth maintain that of rights
the woman should die, which robs her lover of life, and not she who
gives it him.[84*]
This did he say of a maid, and if it be true of a maid, then much more
are suchlike deeds of Charity commendable in wives even more than in
maids, seeing these have not their purses untied and open yet like
married women,—the which, or at any rate some among them, have these
same exceeding ample and well adapted to enlarge their charities!
Which doth remind me of a tale of a very fair lady of the Court,
who did attire herself for a Candlemas-tide all in a dress of white
damask, with all else white to match, so that naught that day did look
fairer or more white. Then did the lady’s lover win over one of her
companions, which likewise was a very fair lady, but somewhat older and
better skilled in speech, and well fitted to intercede for him. So,
whenas they all three were looking at a very fine picture, wherein was
depicted Charity clad all in white with a white veil, this last did say
to her friend: “You do wear this day the same dress as Charity here;
but seeing you do resemble her in attire, you should be like her too
as concerneth your lover, there being no other thing more commendable
than good pity and sweet charity, in whatsoever way it be showed
forth, provided always it be with good will to help one’s neighbour.
Therefore be charitable; but if you have the fear of your husband and
the sanctity of wedlock before your eyes, why! ’tis a vain superstition
we women should never entertain, seeing how nature hath given us good
things in divers sorts, not to use the same niggardly, like some vile
miserly hag with her treasure hoard, but rather to distribute them
generously to poor suffering mortals and men in dire straits. True
it is our chastity doth resemble a treasure, which it behooves us be
niggard of on base occasions; but for high and noble ones, we should
dispense thereof liberally and without stint. In like wise ought we to
deal with our chastity, the which we must yield up generously to folk
of merit and desert, and ill-fortune to boot, but refuse to such as be
vile, worthless, and such as do not stand in need. As for our husbands,
truly these be fine idols, for us never to pay our vows and candles to
any but them only, and never to visit other handsome images! For ’tis
to God alone we do owe absolute and unbroken allegiance, and to no man.”
Now this discourse was in no wise displeasing to the lady, and did
much advantage the lover, who by help of a little perseverance, did
presently reap the benefit thereof. Yet are Charity sermons of the sort
right dangerous for the unhappy husbands. I have heard tell (I know not
whether it be true, so I will not say for certain it is so), how at
the beginning when the Huguenots did first establish their religion,
and they would be holding their preachings at night and in secret
places, for fear of being surprised, sought out and punished, whenas
one day they were thus in the Rue St. Jacques at Paris, in the days of
King Henri II., certain great ladies resorting thither to receive this
Charity, were all but caught in the act. After the Minister had done
his sermon, at the end thereof he did recommend them to be charitable;
whereupon without more ado they did extinguish the lights, and on
the spot each man and woman did exercise the same towards his or her
brother or sister in Christ, dispensing it one to the other according
to the good will and ability of each. But this I dare not assert right
out, though I have been assured ’tis a true thing. Yet on the contrary
’tis very possible the whole is a mere lie and imposture.[85*]
At any rate I know this much well, how at Poitiers there dwelt at
that time a certain advocate’s wife, known by the name of the fair
Gotterelle, whom myself have seen, which was one of the most beautiful
women of her day, of the most charming grace and shape, and one of
the most desirable dames in all the town at that time. Wherefore was
every man fain to be making eyes at the same, and laying of his heart
at her feet. She was one day at the end of sermon time handled by
a round dozen of student lads, one after the other, whether in the
Consistory or under some pent-house, or as I have heard some say,
under a gallows in the Old Market,—at any rate without her having
made one single outcry or refusal. Rather, asking only the text of
the sermon for password, she did welcome them one after other right
courteously, as her true brothers in Christ. This gentle alms-giving
she did long continue afterward towards them, yet would she never
bestow one farthing’s worth on any Papist.[86*] Yet were there sundry
of that faith which, borrowing of the Huguenot comrades the word and
the jargon of their meeting-house, did enjoy her favours. Others again
would resort to the sermonizing expressly for this cause, and pretend
to be converted, to learn the secret and so have pleasure of this
beauteous dame. I was then at Poitiers as a student lad, and several
good comrades of mine, who had their share of her favour, did assure me
of the fact, and swear to it; moreover the general bruit in the place
did confirm the same. Verily a delectable and charitable deed to do,
and a right conscientious lady thus to make choice and preference of
her fellow religionists!
Yet another form of Charity is there, which is oft times practised
towards poor prisoners who are shut up in dungeons and robbed of all
enjoyments with women. On such do the gaolers’ wives and women that
have charge over them, or châtelaines who have prisoners of war in
their Castle, take pity and give them share of their love out of very
charity and mercifulness. Thus did a certain Roman courtesan say once
to her daughter, of whom a gallant was deeply enamoured, but she would
never bestow on him so much as a farthing’s worth: _E dagli, al manco
por misericordia_,—“Well, well! do him charity then for pity’s sake.”
Thus do these gaolers’ wives, noble châtelaines and others, treat their
prisoners, the which, captive and unhappy though they be, yet cease
not for that to feel the prickings of the flesh, as much as ever they
did in their best days. As saith the old proverb, “Longing cometh of
lacking,” so even in the straw and on the hard ground, my lord Priapus
will still be lifting his head, as well as on the best and softest bed
in all the world.
* * * * *
Hence it cometh that beggars and prisoners, in their lazar-houses and
prisons, are just as wanton as Kings, Princes and great folk in their
rich Palaces and on their royal and dainty couches.
To confirm what I say, I will instance a tale that Captain Beaulieu,
Captain of the King’s Galleys, of whom I have before spoke once and
again, did tell me.[87*] He was in the service of the late Grand Prior
of France, a member of the house of Lorraine, who was much attached
to him. Going one time to take his patron on board at Malta in a
frigate, he was taken by the Sicilian galleys, and carried prisoner to
the Castel-à-mare at Palermo, where he was shut up in an exceedingly
narrow, dark and wretched dungeon, and very ill entreated by the space
of three months. By good hap the Governor of the Castle, who was a
Spaniard, had two very fair daughters, who hearing him complaining and
making moan, did one day ask leave of their father to visit him, for
the honour of the good God; and this he did freely give them permission
to do. And seeing the Captain was of a surety a right gallant
gentleman, and as ready-tongued as most, he was able so to win them
over at this, the very first visit, that they did gain their father’s
leave for him to quit his wretched dungeon and to be put in a seemly
enough chamber and receive better treatment. Nor was this all, for they
did crave and get permission to come and see him freely every day and
converse with him.
And this did fall out so well that presently both the twain of them
were in love with him, albeit he was not handsome to look upon, and
they very fair ladies. And so, without a thought of the chance of
more rigorous imprisonment or even death, but rather tempted by such
opportunities, he did set himself to the enjoyment of the two girls
with good will and hearty appetite. And these pleasures did continue
without any scandal, for so fortunate was he in this conquest of his
for the space of eight whole months, that no scandal did ever hap all
that time, and no ill, inconvenience, nor any surprise or discovery at
all. For indeed the two sisters had so good an understanding between
them and did so generously lend a hand to each other and so obligingly
play sentinel to one another, that no ill hap did ever occur. And he
sware to me, being my very intimate friend as he was, that never in
his days of greatest liberty had he enjoyed so excellent entertainment
or felt keener ardour or better appetite for it than in the said
prison,—which truly was a right good prison for him, albeit folk say
no prison can be good. And this happy time did continue for the space
of eight months, till the truce was made betwixt the Emperor and Henri
II., King of France, whereby all prisoners did leave their dungeons and
were released. He sware that never was he more grieved than at quitting
this good prison of his, but was exceeding sorry to leave these fair
maids, with whom he was in such high favour, and who did express all
possible regrets at his departing.
I did ask him if ever he apprehended ill consequences, if he were
discovered. To which he made reply, he most certainly did, yet was not
afeared thereof. For at the worst they would but have put him to death,
and he had rather have died than go back to his first dungeon. Moreover
he was afraid, if he had failed to gratify these honourable maids,
seeing they sought to him so eagerly, that they would have conceived so
sore a despite and disdain against him, that he would have gotten some
worse treatment even than afore. Wherefore, close shutting his eyes to
all consequences, he did adventure boldly on this merry emprise.
Many another adventure of the sort is related in our land of France, as
of the Duc d’Arschot, who when a prisoner in the Bois de Vincennes, did
escape by the help of an honourable lady; the which lady however was
like to have suffered sore for it, seeing ’twas a matter of the King’s
service.[88*] And indeed suchlike deeds of charity are blameworthy,
if they do touch the general weal, though very good and commendable,
when only the individual is concerned, and the lover’s life and his
mistress’s only endangered. In this there is scant hurt.
I could instance many fine examples pertinent to this matter, if I were
desirous of writing a separate discourse thereon,—and insooth ’twould
be by no means an unamusing subject. However I will but quote the
following one, and no other beside, for the sake of telling a pleasant
and classic tale.
We read in Livy how, after the Romans had utterly destroyed the town of
Capua, certain inhabitants of that city did come to Rome to represent
their unhappy state to the Senate, and beseech the Fathers to have pity
on them. The matter was debated and amongst others which did pronounce
an opinion was M. Atilius Regulus, who did maintain they should show no
mercy whatever. “For he could in no wise discover,” he declared, “any
single Capuan, since the revolting of their city, who could be said to
have displayed the least atom of friendliness or affection for the
Roman State, except only two honourable women,”—the one Vestia Oppia,
an Atellane, from the city of Atella, domiciled at Capua at the time,
and the other, one Faucula Cluvia, both of whom had been aforetime
ladies of pleasure and courtesans, plying their trade publicly in
that city.[89*] The one had let never a day pass without offering up
prayers and sacrifices for the success and victory of the Roman People,
while the other had deserved well for having by stealth succoured with
victuals the poor prisoners of war, dying of hunger and misery.