ill with him, for she was much of Luther’s way of thinking, who was
then widely followed, did beg my brother to take her with him to
France and to the Court of Marguerite, Queen of Navarre,[162] in whose
service she had been, and who had given her to Madame Renée, when she
was married and went to live in Italy. My brother, who was young and
quite heedless, was only too glad of such excellent company, and did
willingly escort her to Paris, where the Queen was then residing.
This last was right glad to behold her, for of all women she was the
wittiest and most ready of tongue, and was a handsome widow to boot and
perfect in all accomplishments.
My brother, after having tarried some days with my grandmother and
my mother, who was then performing her Court service, did presently
go home to see his father. After some while, sickening utterly of
letters, and seeing himself in no wise fitted for their pursuit, he
doth quit that career altogether and away to the wars in Piedmont and
Parma, where he did win much honour. So he did serve in these wars by
the space of five or six months without returning home. At the end
of this time he went to see his mother, who was at the time at Court
with the Queen of Navarre; the Queen was then holding Court at Pau,
and my brother did make his reverence to her as she was returning from
Vespers. Being one of the best natured Princesses was ever in this
world, she did receive him right graciously, and taking him by the
hand, did walk with him up and down the Church for an hour or twain,
asking him news of the wars in Piedmont and Italy and of many other
matters. To all this my brother did make answer so well that she was
very well satisfied (for indeed he was as ready of tongue as any of
his time) as well with his wit as with his person,—for he was a most
handsome man, and of the age then of twenty-four. At the last, after
long discourse with him, for ’twas ever the nature and complexion
of the said noble Princess in no wise to scorn good talk and the
conversation of good and honourable folk, gliding from subject to
subject and still walking up and down the while, she did quietly bring
my brother right over the tomb of Mlle. de La Roche, which had died
three months before, and there staid him. Presently taking his hand,
she said thus; “Cousin mine” (she called him so, seeing that a daughter
of Albret had married into our house of Bourdeille; but for all that
I do keep no greater state than another, nor suffer my ambition to
run away with me), “cannot you feel something move down below under
your feet?”—“Why! no, Madame,” he did reply.—“Nay! take heed and mark
carefully, cousin,” she did resume.—But my brother only made answer,
“Madame, I _have_ taken heed, but I can feel nothing moving. The stone
I tread on is firm enough.”—“Well, well! I must tell you then,” the
Queen went on, without keeping him longer in suspense, “that you are
standing above the tomb and the body of poor Mlle. de La Roche, whom
erst you did love so fondly; she is interred beneath this spot. Now
seeing that our souls do possess feeling after our death, how can we
doubt that this excellent creature, dead but lately, was moved so soon
as ever you came over her? And if you did not mark it by reason of the
grossness of the tomb, no doubt for this cause was she the more stirred
and moved in herself. Now forasmuch as ’tis a right pious office to
have memory of the dead, and specially of them we have loved, I do
beseech you give her a _Pater noster_ and an _Ave Maria_ and a _de
Profundis_ to boot, and sprinkle her resting place with holy water; so
shall you win the name of a very faithful lover and a good Christian.
And to this end will I now leave you,” and so quits him and hies her
away. My brother, (who is since dead), failed not to perform what she
had said, and then went to see her again; whereupon she did somewhat
take him to task and rally him, for she was familiar with folk,—in a
good sense that is,—and had graceful skill in gentle mockery.
Such then was the view this Princess did hold, but more by way of witty
conceit and gentle sentiment than from actual belief, as I think.
These gentle words of the Princess do further remind me of an epitaph
over a courtesan that is buried at the Church of our Lady of the People
(del Popolo) at Rome, which doth read thus: _Quaesco, viator, ne me
diutius calcatam amplius calces_, “To him that passeth by: ‘I have been
kicked and spurned enough in my lifetime; spurn me no more.’” The Latin
expression hath more grace than the English equivalent. I do put the
thing down here more by way of a jest than anything else.
Well, to draw to an end, no need to be astonished that the Spanish
lady named above did hold the maxim she did enunciate good of all such
fair ladies as have been greatly loved of others, and have loved, and
do love, themselves, and do take delight in being praised, albeit they
may have but little left of their by-gone beauty. But yet ’tis ever
the chiefest pleasure you can give them, and the one they do love the
most, whenas you tell them they are still the same, and are in no wise
changed or aged, and above all those of them which grow not old from
the waist downwards.
I have heard speak of a very fair and honourable lady which one day did
say thus to her lover: “I know not whether for the future old age will
bring me increasing inconvenience and incapacity,”—she was fifty-five
years old; “but, God be thanked, I did never do myself pleasure so well
as I do now, nor ever took greater joy therein. Whether this do last
out and continue till my extremest old age or no, I have no fault to
find, nor complaint to make of my days gone by.”
Now as concerning love and concupiscence, I have both here and
elsewhere adduced examples enough, without dwelling longer on this
subject. Let us now consider a while the maxim as concerning this
special beauty of fair ladies, how that it doth not diminish by reason
of old age.
For sure, the aforesaid Spanish lady did allege many good reasons and
seemly comparisons, likening these fair ladies to fine old buildings of
yore whose ruins do yet remain superb and imposing. So amid the noble
antiquities of Rome do we see the ruins of palaces, superb relics of
Collosseum and Thermæ, which to this day do plainly show what they once
were, and do inspire all beholders with wonder and awe, their mere
ruins being wondrous and surprising. Nay, more! on these same ruins
men do still build right noble edifices, proving that the foundations
be better and finer than fresh new ones. So very often in their
constructions, the which our good architects and masons do undertake,
if that they find some old ruins and ancient foundations, straightway
do they build on these, and that in preference to laying new ones.
Likewise have I seen good galleys and ships built and reconstructed
on old hulls and old keels, the which had long lain in harbour doing
nothing; and these were every whit as good and sound as others which
the ship-carpenters did frame and build all new, and of new timber
fresh from the forest.
Furthermore, our Spanish lady was used to say,—do we not many a time
see the summits of high towers carried away, overthrown and disfigured
by winds, storms and lightning, while the base doth remain safe and
sound? For ’tis ever against such lofty points that storms do spend
their fury. The sea winds moreover do corrode and eat away the upper
stones of a building and do wear them hollow more than those at the
bottom, seeing these be not so much exposed as the ones higher up.
In like wise many fair ladies do lose the brilliancy and beauty of
their pretty faces by various accidents whether of cold or heat, of
sun and moon, and the like, as well as, more’s the pity, by reason of
various cosmetics, the which they do apply to them, thinking so to
heighten their charms, but really and truly spoiling all their beauty
thereby. Whereas in other parts, they do apply no other preparation but
only nature’s method, feeling therefore neither cold, nor rain, nor
wind, neither sun nor moon, none of which do affect them at all.
If heat do inconvenience them, they know many means to gain relief
and coolness; as likewise they can guard against cold in plenty of
ways. So many inconveniences and injuries must needs be warded off
from a woman’s beauty of face, but few or none from that which lieth
elsewhere. Wherefore we should never conclude, because a woman’s
countenance is spoiled, that she is all foredone all over, and that
naught doth remain of fine and good, and that ’tis useless to build on
that foundation.
I have heard a tale told of a certain great lady, which had been
exceeding fair and much devoted to love. One of her old lovers having
lost sight of her for the space of four years, through some journey he
did undertake, on returning from the same did find her sadly changed
from the fair countenance he had known erstwhile, the which did so
disappoint him and chill his ardour as that he did no more care to
board her nor to renew with her again the pleasure of former days.
She did recognize him readily enough, did endeavour all she could to
get him to come and see her. Accordingly to this end she did one day
counterfeit sickness, and when he had come to visit her by daylight did
thus say to him: “I know well enough, Sir! you do scorn me for my poor
face so changed by age; but come, look you, and see if there be aught
changed there. If my face has deceived you, at any rate there is no
deception about that.” So the gentleman examining her and finding her
as fair and sound as ever, did straight recover appetite and did enjoy
the flesh he had thought to be spoiled. “Now this is the way, Sir,”
said the lady, “you men are deceived! Another time, give no credence
to the lies our false faces tell; for indeed the rest of our bodies
doth by no means always match them. This is the lesson I would have you
learn.”
Another lady of the like sort, being thus sorely changed of her fair
face, was in such great anger and despite against the same, that she
would never more look at it in her mirror, saying ’twas unworthy of so
much honour. So she had her head always dressed by her maids; and to
make up, would ever look at the other parts of herself only and gaze at
these, taking as much pride and delight therein as she had aforetime
done in her beautiful face.
I have heard speak of another lady, who whenever she did lie by
daylight with her lover, was used to cover her face with a fair white
kerchief of fine Holland web, for fear lest, if he should look in her
face, the upper works might chill and stay his affection, and move him
to mere disgust; for indeed below was naught to chide at, but all was
as fine as ever. This doth remind me of yet another very honourable
lady I have heard tell of, who did make a diverting and witty reply.
Her husband one day asking her why her hair in one place was not grown
white and hoary like that of her head, “Ah, yes,” she did exclaim, “the
wretch it is! It hath done all the folly, yet doth it feel naught, nor
experience any ill consequences. Many and many a time hath it made my
head to suffer; whereas it doth ever remain unchanged, in the same good
estate and vigour, and keepeth the same complexion, and above all the
same natural heat, and the same appetite and sound health. But how far
otherwise it is with my other parts, which do endure aches and pains
for it, and my hair which hath long ago grown white and hoary.”
And she had good reason so to speak; for truly this doth engender in
women many ills, and gout and other sicknesses. Moreover for being over
hot at it, so the doctors say, do they grow prematurely hoary-headed.
Thus we see fair ladies do never grow old in some parts, either in one
fashion or the other.
I have heard many men relate,—men which have followed women freely,
even going with courtesans,—how that they have scarce ever seen pretty
women get old in certain parts, did always keep all their former
beauty, and good will and hearty disposition to boot as good as
aforetime. Nay, more! I have heard not a few husbands declare they did
find their _old women_ (so they called them) as fair and fine as ever,
and as full of desire and wantonness, beauty and good will, discovering
no change at all but of face, and were as fain to love them as ever
they were in their young days.
In fine, how many men there be which do love old women for many reasons
better than young! Just as there be many which do love old horses
best, whether for a good day’s work, or for the riding-school and
display,—such animals as have been so well drilled in their youth as
that you will have never a fault to find with them when grown old.
Right well trained have they been, and have never after forgot their
pretty cunning.
I have myself seen in our Royal stables a horse they called
_Quadragant_, first broke in the time of King Henri. He was over two
and twenty years old; but aged as he was, he yet went very well, and
had forgot naught of his exercises. He could still give his King, and
all which did see him go through his paces, great and real pleasure.
I have seen the like done by a tall charger called _Gonzago_, from the
stud-farm of Mantua, and which was of the same age as _Quadragant_.
I have likewise seen that magnificent and well-known black, which had
been set to stallion’s work. Signor Antonio, who had charge of the
Royal stud, did show him me at Meung,[163] one day I did pass that way,
making him do the two strides and a leap, and the round step,—both
which he did execute as well as the day M. de Carnavallet had first
trained him,—for he was his horse. The late M. de Longueville was fain
to hire him of his master for three thousand livres; however King
Charles would not have it, but took him for himself, recompensing the
owner in another way. A whole host of others I could easily name; but
I should never have done, and so do refer me to those worthy squires
which have seen so many of the sort.
Our late King Henri, at the camp of Amiens, had chose for his mount on
the day of battle an horse called _le Bay de la Paix_, a very fine and
strong charger, and aged. But he died of fever in the camp of Amiens;
so the most expert farriers did declare, but ’twas deemed a strange
thing to have happed.
The late Duc de Guise did send to his stud-farm of Esclairon[163] for
the bay _Sanson_, which was there serving the mares as stallion, to be
his mount at the battle of Dreux, where he did carry him excellently.
In his first wars the late Prince[164*] did take from the stud at Mun
two and twenty horses, which were there as stallions, to serve him in
his campaigns; and did divide the same among the different lords which
were with him, after reserving his own share. Whereof the gallant
Avaret did have a charger which the great Constable had given to King
Henri, and which was called _le Compère_ (Old Gossip). Aged as he was,
never was seen a better mount; his master did prove him in some good
tough rencontres, and he did carry him right well. Captain Bourdet gat
the Arab, on whose back our late King Henri was wounded and slain, a
horse the late M. de Savoie had given him, called _le Malheureux_ (the
Unlucky). This was his name when he was presented to the King, and
verily ’twas one of very ill omen to him. Never in his youth was he
near so good as he was in his old age; though ’tis true his master,
which was one of the most gallant gentlemen of France, did show him
ever to the best advantage. In a word, of all these stallions, was not
one that age did hinder from serving his master well, and his Prince
and country. Indeed there be some old horses that will never give up;
hence ’tis well said, no good horse doth ever become a mere hack.
3.
Of such sort be many fair dames, which in their old age be every whit
as good as other women in their youth, and do give as great pleasure,
from their having been in their time thoroughly well taught and
trained. And be sure such lessons are not easily forgot. Then again the
best of it is these be always most liberal and generous in giving, so
as to keep in hand their cavalier and riders, which do get more money
and demand an higher salary to bestride an old mount than a young one.
’Tis just the opposite with squires and real horsemen, which do never
care so much to mount broke horses as young ones that be yet to break.
However this is but reasonable after all.
There is a question I have seen debated on the subject of women of
years, to wit: which doth bring the greater glory, to love a woman
of years and have the enjoyment of her, or to so do with a young
one. Not a few have I heard pronounce for the older woman. For they
would maintain that the foolishness and heat which be in youth are of
themselves debauched enough already and right easy to undo; whereas the
prudence and coldness that would seem natural to age cannot but with
difficulty be led astray. And so they which do succeed in corrupting
such win the higher repute.
In like wise was the famous courtesan Laïs used to boast and glorify
herself greatly of the fact that the philosophers did come so oft to
visit her and learn in her school, more than of all the young and giddy
folks which did frequent her society. So also Flora was ever proud to
see great and dignified Roman senators arrive at her door, rather than
young and foolish gallants. Thus methinks ’tis great glory to vanquish
and overcome the wise prudence which should be in persons of ripe age,
so far as pleasure and satisfaction go.
I do refer me to such men as have made experiment hereof, of the which
sundry have told me how that a trained mount is ever more agreeable
than a wild colt and one that doth not so much as know the trot.
Furthermore, what pleasure and what greatest delight may not a man
enjoy in mind, whenas he doth behold enter a ball-room, or one of the
Queen’s apartments, or a Church, or other place crowded with company,
a lady of ripe years and dignity, _de alta guisa_ (of lofty carriage)
as they say in Italian, and above all a lady of honour to the Queen or
some Princess, or the governess of some King’s daughter, young queen
or great princess, or mayhap mother of the maids of honour, one that
is chose out and set in this high and sober office by reason of her
modest and seemly carriage? You shall see her assuming all the part of
the prudish, chaste and virtuous dame, while everybody doth of course
suppose her so, by reason of her years; then what joy, when a man doth
think in his heart, or e’en say it out to some trusty comrade and
confidant of his, “Look at her yonder, with her solemn ways, her staid
and cold and scornful mien! To see her, would you not deem butter would
not melt in her mouth? Yet, alack-a-day! never a weathercock in all the
wide world doth so shift and whirl so swift and nimbly as doth she.”
For myself, I do verily believe the man which hath known this joy and
can so say, is right well content at heart. Ha! ha! but I have known a
many such dames in this world, which did counterfeit to be most modest,
prudish and censorious duennas, yet were exceeding dissolute and
lecherous when they did come to it. Yea! and they would be put on their
backs far more than most young damsels, which, by reason of their too
much inexperience, be afraid of the gentle strife! So do they say there
is naught so good as old vixens for hunting abroad and getting food for
their cubs to eat.
We read how of old days several Roman Emperors did take their pleasure
in the debauching and having their will of suchlike high-born ladies of
honour and repute, as well for the pleasure and contentment to be had
therein,—and in good sooth there is more with such than with women of
inferior sort,—as for sake of the glory and honour they did arrogate
to themselves for having so debauched and bested them. So in like
wise have I known in my own time not a few great Lords, Princes and
Noblemen, which have found great boast and great content at heart, by
reason of having done the same.
Julius Cæsar and Octavius,[165*] his successor, were exceeding ardent
after such sort of conquests, as I have alleged before; and after
them Caligula, who summoning to his feasts the most illustrious Roman
ladies together with their husbands, would gaze steadfastly at the
same and examine them minutely, nay! would actually put out his hand
and lift their faces up, if by chance any of them did hang their heads
as conscious of being dames of honour and repute,—though truly other
some were fain but to counterfeit this modesty, and play the shamefaced
prude. But verily there cannot have been a many genuine prudes in
the days of these dissolute Emperors; yet must they needs make the
pretense, albeit nothing more. Else had the game not been worth the
playing; and I have myself in our day seen many a fair lady do the like.
Afterward such of them as did hit the worthy Emperor’s taste, these he
would take aside openly and from their very husbands’ side, and leading
them from the hall would escort them to a privy chamber, where he would
take his pleasure of them to his full content. This done he would
lead them back to sit down once more in their place; and then before
all the company would proceed to commend their beauties and special
hidden charms that were in them, specifying these same separately
and severally. And any which had any blemishes, faults or defects of
beauty, these he would by no means let off in silence, but was used
always to describe and declare the same openly, without disguising or
concealing aught.
Nero was even yet worse than this, being so curious as that he did
examine his own mother’s dead body, gazing steadfastly upon the same
and handling all her limbs and parts, commending some and abusing
others.
I have heard the same thing told of sundry great Lords of Christian
days, which have had this same strange curiosity toward their dead
mothers.
Nor was this all with the said Caligula; for he was used to retail
all their movements, their naughty ways and tricks, and the modes and
fashions they did follow in their doing of it, and in special of any
which had been modest and prudish, or which had made pretense to be so
at table. For verily if a-bed they were fain to do the like, there is
small doubt but the cruel tyrant did menace them with death, unless
they would do all his pleasure for his full content, and so constrained
them by the terror of execution. Then after would he speak despitefully
of them to his heart’s content, to the sore shame and general mockery
of the poor dames, who thinking to be accounted chaste and modest as
ever women can be, and to play the hypocrite and counterfeit _donne da
ben_ (virtuous ladies), were utterly and entirely revealed in their
true colours and made known as mere harlots and wanton wenches. And
truly this was no bad business so to discover them in a character they
did never wish to be known. And better still, ’twas always, as I have
said, great ladies that were so entreated, such as wives of consuls,
dictators, prætors, quæstors, senators, censors, knights, and others
of the highest estate and dignity, as we might say in our own days and
Christian lands, mighty Queens, (which yet are not to be compared
with Consuls’ wives, seeing these were paramount over all men),
Princesses of greater and less puissance, Duchesses, Marchionesses, and
Countesses, great and small, Baronesses, Knights’ dames, and the like
ladies of rank and rich estate. And truly there is no doubt at all but
that many Christian Emperors and Kings, if they had the power to do the
like of the Emperor Caligula toward ladies of such quality, would avail
themselves thereof. But then they be Christians, which have the fear
of God before their eyes, his holy ordinances, their own conscience
and honour, and the ill-repute of their fellows, to say naught of the
ladies’ husbands, to whose generous spirit suchlike tyranny would be
unendurable. Wherein of a surety our Christian Kings be deserving of
high esteem and commendation, thus to win the love of fair ladies
rather by dint of gentleness and loving arts than by brute force and
harsh rigour,—and the conquest so gained is by far a nobler one.
I have heard speak of two great Princes[166] which have taken exceeding
pleasure in thus discovering their ladies’ beauties, charms and
especial graces, as well as their deformities, blemishes and defects,
together with their little ways, privy movements and wanton wiles,—not
however in public, as did Caligula, but in privity, with their close
and particular friends. Truly a sad fashion to entreat the pretty
persons of these poor ladies. Thinking to do well and sport agreeably
for to pleasure their husbands, they be but scorned therefor and made a
laughing-stock.