buildings based on better foundations and of better stone and material
some than others, and for this cause endure longer in their glory and
beauty, even so there be some dames of bodies so well complexioned and
fairly fashioned, and endowed with so fine a beauty, as that time doth
in no wise so prevail over them as with others, nor seem to undermine
their comeliness at all.
We read in history how that Artaxerxes,[167] among all the wives he
had, did love the most Astacia, which was a woman of very ripe age, yet
still most beautiful, and had been the mistress of his late brother
Darius. His son did fall so deep in love with her, so exceeding fair
was she in spite of years, that he did demand to share her with his
father, in the same way as his share of the Kingdom. But the father,
angered by this and jealous at the notion of another sharing with him
this dainty morsel, did make her Priestess of the Sun, forasmuch as in
Persia women which hold this estate must vow themselves to absolute
chastity.
We read again in the History of Naples how Ladislas, a Hungarian and
King of Naples, did besiege in Taranto the Duchess Marie, widow of
Rammondelo de Balzo, and after sundry assaults and feats of arms, did
take her by arrangement with her children, and wed her, albeit she was
of ripe years, yet exceeding fair to look upon, and carried her with
him to Naples. She was thereafter known as Queen Marie and fondly loved
and cherished of the King.
Myself once saw the fair Duchesse de Valentinois (Diane de Poitiers)
at the age of seventy, as fair of face, as fresh-looking and lovable
as at thirty; and verily she was well loved and courted by one of the
greatest and most gallant Kings in all the world. I may tell her age
frankly, without wrong to the beauty of this fair lady, seeing whenever
a lady is loved of a great King, ’tis sure sign perfection doth
abundantly reside in her, and make her dear to him. And surely that
beauty which is given of heaven should never be spared in favour of
heaven’s demigods.
I saw this lady, six months before she died, still so very fair I can
imagine no heart so flinty as not to have been stirred thereby, and
though a while before she had broke a leg on the stony pavement of
Orleans, riding and sitting her horse as lightly and cleverly as she
had ever done. But the horse slipped and fell under her; and for this
broken limb, and all the pains and sufferings she did endure, one would
have thought her fair face must have been changed. But nothing of the
sort, for her beauty, grace, majesty and gallant mien were just what
they had ever been. And above all, she did possess an extraordinary
whiteness of skin, without any recourse had to paint; only ’tis said
that every morning she did employ certain washes compounded of spring
water and sundry drugs, the which I cannot name like good doctors or
cunning apothecaries can. I do believe that if this fair lady had
lived yet another hundred years, she would never have aged, whether
in face, so excellently framed was it, or in body, the parts covered
and concealed that is, of such excellent temper and good condition was
this. The pity is earth should ever cover these beauteous forms!
Likewise myself have seen the Marquise de Rothelin,[168] mother of the
Dowager Princess de Condé and the late deceased M. de Longueville, in
no wise diminished of her beauty by time or age, but keeping the fresh
flower of her youth as aforetime, except only that her face did grow
something redder toward the end. Yet did her beautiful eyes, that were
unmatched in all the world, and which her daughter hath inherited,
never alter, but were to the last as meet to wound hearts as ever.
Another I have seen in like case was Madame de la Bourdaisière,[169]
afterward by a second marriage wife to the Maréchal d’Aumont. This lady
in her later days was so fair to look on you would have said she was
in her early youth still, and her five daughters, all beautiful women,
did in no wise eclipse her. And readily enough, if the choice had been
to make, would a man have left the daughters to take the mother in
preference; yet had she borne a number of children. And truly of all
women she did most take heed of her good looks, for she was a mortal
enemy of the night damp and moonlight, and did avoid these all ever she
could. The ordinary use of paint for the face, practised by so many
ladies, was quite unknown to her.
I have also seen, and this is a more striking instance still, Madame
de Mareuil, mother of the Marquise de Mézières and grandmother of the
Princess-Dauphin, at the age of an hundred, at which she died, looking
as fresh and upright, as alert, healthy and comely as at fifty. She had
been a very handsome woman in her younger days.
Her daughter, the Marquise de Mézières named above, was of like sort
and died in the like good case, but she was twenty years younger when
this took place, and her figure had shrunk somewhat. She was aunt of
Mme. de Bourdeille, my elder brother’s wife, and did bring him the like
excellent qualities. For albeit she have passed her fifty-third year
and hath had fourteen children, one may truthfully say this,—and others
which see her are of better judgment than I, and do assure me of the
fact,—that the four daughters she hath by her side do look like her
own sisters. So do we often see winter fruits, and relics of the past
season, match those of Summer itself, and keep their sweetness, and be
as fine and savour as these, and even more.
The Amirale de Brion too, and her daughter, Mme. de Barbézieux,[170]
did continue very handsome women to quite old age.
I have been told of late how that the fair Paule de Toulouse,[170] so
renowned of old days, is yet as beautiful as ever, though she is now
eighty-four, and no change is to be seen, whether in her fine, tall
figure or her beautiful face.
Another I have seen is the Présidente de Conte, of Bordeaux, of equal
age and equal beauty, in all ways most lovable and desirable; and
indeed she was a woman of many perfections. Many other such could I
name, but I should never have done.
A young Spanish knight speaking of love to a lady of advanced age, but
still handsome, she did make him this answer: _A mis completas desta
manera me habla V. M.?_ “How can you speak so to my complines?”—meaning
to signify by complines her age and the decline of her best days, and
the approach of night. The knight did reply: _Sus completas valen mas,
y son mas graciosas que las horas de prima de qualquier otra dama_,
“Your complines are better worth, and more fair and delectable than the
hours of prime of any other lady.” A very pretty conceit surely!
Another speaking in like wise of love to a lady of ripe years, and
she making objection to him of her withered beauty,—which yet was not
over and above so,—did thus answer her: _A las visperas se conoce la
fiesta_,—“at vespers is the feast at its best.”
4.
We have yet among us to this day Madame de Nemours, of yore in the
April of her beauty the wonder of the world, which doth still defy
all devastating time. I may truly say of her, as may all that have
seen her with me, that she was erst the fairest dame, in her blooming
days, in all Christendom. I did see her one day dance, as I have told
elsewhere, with the Queen of Scots, they twain all alone together and
without any other ladies to bear them company, by way of a caprice, so
that all such, men and women, as did behold them knew not to which to
adjudge the palm of beauty. Verily, as one said at the time, you would
have thought them those two suns which we read in Pliny to have once
appeared together in the sky, to dazzle the world. Madame de Nemours,
at that time Madame de Guise, did show the more luxurious figure; and
if it be allowed me so to say without offence to the Queen of Scots,
she had the more imposing and apparent dignity of port, albeit she was
not a Queen like the other. But then she was grand-daughter of that
great King,[171] the father of his people, whom she did resemble in
many of her features, as I have seen him portrayed in the gallery of
the Queen of Navarre, showing in every look the great monarch he was.
I think I was the first which did call her by this name of
Grand-daughter of the great King, Father of his People. This was at
Lyons, time when the King did return out of Poland; and often would
I call her so, and she did me the honour to deem it well, and like it
at my hands. She was in very deed a true grand-daughter of that great
King, and especially in goodness of heart and beauty. For she was ever
very good-hearted, and few or none are to be found that she ever did
ill or displeasure to, while many did win great advantage in the time
of her favour, that is to say in the time of her late husband, Monsieur
de Guise, which did enjoy high consideration in France. Thus were there
two very noble perfections united in this lady, goodness and beauty,
and both of these hath she right well maintained to this present day,
and by their means hath married two most honourable husbands, and two
that few or none at all could have been found to match. And indeed, and
if another could be found of like sort and worthy of her, and if she
did wish for a third, she might well enjoy one more, so fair is she yet.
And ’tis a fact that in Italy folk do hold the ladies of Ferrara for
good and tasty morsels,—whence hath come the saying, _potta ferraresa_,
just as they say, _cazzo mantuano_ (a Mantua verge). As to this, when
once a great Lord of that country was making court to a great and
beauteous Princess of France, and they were all commending him at
Court for his excellent merits, valiance and the high qualities which
did make him deserving of her favours, there was one, the late M.
d’Au,[172] Captain of the Scottish Guards, which did come nearer the
point than any with these words, “Nay! you do forget the chief of all,
his _cazzo mantuano_ to wit.”
I did once hear a like speech, how when the Duke of Mantua, which
was nicknamed the _Gobin_ (Hunchback), because he was excessively
hunchbacked, was desirous of wedding the sister of the Emperor
Maximilian, the lady was told that he was so sadly deformed. But she
only made answer, as ’tis said: _Non importa purche la campana habbia
qualche diffetto, ma ch’ el sonaglio sia buono_ (“No matter if the bell
have some flaw, provided the clapper be good”),—meaning thereby this
same _cazzo mantuano_. Some indeed aver she did never say the thing at
all, seeing she was too modest and well brought up; but at any rate
others did say it for her.
But to return to this same Princess of Ferrara,[173*] I did see her
at the marriage of the late M. de Joyeuse appear clad in a mantle of
the Italian fashion, the sleeves drawn back half way up the arms in
the Siennese mode. But there was no lady there which could outshine
her, and no man but said: “This fair Princess cannot make herself
any fairer, so fair is she already. And ’tis easy to judge by her
beauteous face that she hath other hidden beauties of great charm and
parts which are not seen. Just as by looking at the noble façade of a
fine building, ’tis easy to judge that within there be fair chambers,
antechambers and closets, fair alcoves and privy places.” In many
another spot likewise hath she displayed her beauty, and no long
while since, in this autumn of her days, and especially in Spain at
the marriage of Monsieur and Madame de Savoie, in such wise that the
admiration of her and her charms did remain graven in that land for all
time. And if my pen had wings of power and range enough to raise her
to the skies, right gladly would I devote it to the task; but ’tis too
weak for such emprise. Yet will I speak of her again later. No doubt is
there but this Princess was a very beautiful woman in her Springtide,
her Summer and Autumn, yea! and is still in her Winter, albeit she hath
had many griefs and many children.
The worst of it is that the Italians, scorning a woman which hath had
a number of children, do call such an one _scrofa_, that is to say a
“sow.” But surely they which do bear handsome, gallant and noble sons,
as did this Princess, are praiseworthy, and do in no wise merit this
ugly name, but rather that of heaven’s favourites.
I will only add this remark: What a strange and wondrous inconsistency
is here, that the thing of all others most fickle and inconsistent doth
offer such resistance to time, to wit a pretty woman! ’Tis not I which
do say this; sorry should I be to do so. For truly I do esteem highly
the constancy of many of the sex, nor are all inconstant. ’Tis from
another I borrow the remark.
I would gladly adduce the names of ladies of other lands, as well as of
our own, that have still been fair in their Autumn and Winter; but for
this while I will mention two only in this class.
One is the good Queen Elizabeth of England, the which is reigning at
this day, and who they tell me is as fair as ever. If this be true, I
do hold her for a very fair and beauteous Princess; for myself have
seen her in her Summertide and in her Autumn season. As for her Winter,
she doth now approach near the same, if she be not there already; for
’tis long ago I did see her, and the first time ever I saw her, I know
what age they did give her then.[174*] I do believe what hath kept her
so long in her prime of beauty is that she hath never been wed, nor
borne the burden of marriage, the which is a very grievous one, above
all when a woman hath many children. The said Queen is deserving of all
praise on all accounts, were it not for the death of that gallant,
beautiful and peerless Princess, the Queen of Scots, the which hath
sore stained her good repute.
5.
The second foreign Princess I shall name is the Marquise de Gouast,
Donna Maria of Aragon, which lady myself have seen still very beautiful
in her final season. And I will show this in an account, the which I
will abridge all ever I can.
After the death of King Henri[175] of France, one month later died also
Pope Paul IV.,[175] Caraffa, and it became needful for the election of
a new Pope that all the Cardinals should meet together. Amongst others
there came from France the Cardinal de Guise, and did fare to Rome
by sea with the King’s galleys, whereof the General was François de
Lorraine, Grand Prior of France, brother of the said Cardinal, who did
convoy him, as a good brother should, with a fleet of sixteen galleys.
And they did make such good speed and with so fine a wind astern, as
that they did arrive in two days and two nights at Civita Vecchia, and
from there presently to Rome. But being come thither, the Grand Prior
seeing they were not yet ready to proceed to the new election (and as
a fact it was yet three months more a-doing), and that accordingly his
brother could not at present return, and his galleys were but lying
idle in port meantime, he did determine to go on to Naples to see that
town and spend his leisure there.
So on his arrival, the Viceroy, at that time the Duke of Alcala, did
receive him as if he had been a King. But before his actual arrival
he did salute the town with a very fine salvo of artillery which did
last a great while; and the same honour was repaid him by the town and
its forts, so as you would have said the very heavens were strangely
thundering during the said cannonade. And keeping his galleys in line
of battle and review order, and at some distance to seaward, he did
despatch in a skiff M. de l’Estrange,[176*] a gentleman of Languedoc,
a very discreet and honourable man, and one which could speak very
gracefully, to the Viceroy, to the end he might not startle him, and to
ask his leave (seeing that albeit we were at peace and on the best of
terms we did come with all the terrors of war) to enter the harbour,
for to see the town and visit the sepulchres of his ancestors which
were there interred, and cast holy water upon them and make a prayer.
This the Viceroy did accord very readily. Then did the Grand Prior
advance and renew the salvo with as fine and furious a cannonade as
before, both with the main-deck guns and his sixteen galleys and other
pieces of ordnance and with arquebus fire, in such wise that all his
fleet was a mass of flame. So did he make entry most proudly to the
mole, with standards and pennants flying, and dressed with flags of
crimson silk, and his own of damask, and with all the galley-slaves
clad in crimson velvet, and the soldiers of his body-guard the same,
and wearing short cloaks covered with silver broidery. The commander
of these was Captain Geoffroy, a Provençal and a brave and gallant
soldier. Altogether our French galleys were found of all right fine,
swift and well careened and above all the “Ship Royal,” to the which
never a fault could be found; for indeed this Prince was in all ways
exceeding magnificent and right liberal.
So being come to the mole in this gallant array, he did there land and
all we his suite with him, at a spot where the Viceroy had commanded
to have ready horses and coaches for to receive us and carry us to the
town. And truly we did there find an hundred steeds,—coursers, jennets,
Spaniards, barbs and other horses, each finer than the other, with
saddle-cloths of velvet all wrought with broidery, some silver and
some gold. He that would ride a-horse did so, and he that preferred to
go in a coach, found one ready, for there were a score there of the
finest and richest, excellently horsed and drawn by the finest cattle
ever seen. There too stood many great Princes and Lords, as well of the
Kingdom of Naples as of Spain, which did welcome the Grand Prior most
honourably on behalf of the Viceroy. On landing he did mount a Spanish
horse, the finest I have seen for many a long day, which the Viceroy
did after present to him; and did manage him right well, and make him
perform some brilliant curvets, as was much spoke of at the time.
The Prince, who was a very good horseman, as good indeed as he was a
seaman, did make a very fine show thus mounted; and he did display his
horse’s paces to the best advantage, and in most graceful style, seeing
he was one of the handsomest Princes of his day, and one of the most
pleasant and accomplished, and of a fine, tall and active figure,—which
is a rare thing with suchlike great personages. Thus was he conducted
by all these Lords and many another noble gentleman to the Viceroy’s
Palace, where this last did await him and paid him all possible honour,
and lodged him in his own house, and did feast him most sumptuously,
both him and all his band. This he was well able to do, seeing he did
profit him by twenty thousand crowns through this journey. We were, I
daresay, a couple of hundred gentlemen that were with him, Captain of
galleys and others, and were lodged with most of the great Lords of the
city, and that most sumptuously.
First thing in the morning, on coming out from our chambers, we did
find attendants so well appointed as that they would present themselves
instantly to ask what we were fain to do, and whither we would go to
take our pleasure. And if we did call for horses or coaches, in a
moment, our wish was no sooner expressed than satisfied. So they would
away at once to seek whatever mount we did crave, and all these so
fine, rich and magnificent as might have contented a King; and then
off on our way to take our day’s pleasure, in such wise as each did
prefer. In very fact were we well nigh spoiled by excess of enjoyment
and all delights in that fair city; nor can we say there was any lack
of such, for indeed I have never seen a town better supplied therewith
in every sort. One alone was wanting, to wit the familiar converse,
frank and free, with ladies of honour and repute,—for of others there
was enough and to spare. But the defect was well and wisely remedied
for the time being by the complaisance of this same Marquise de Gouast,
in whose honour is the present discourse writ. For she, being a right
courteous lady and full of all honourable feeling, and well fitting
the nobility of her house, having heard the high repute of the Grand
Prior for all the perfections that were in him, and having seen him
pass through the city on horseback and recognized his worth, as is meet
between folk of high station toward one another, with the magnanimity
she did ever show in all things, did send one day a very honourable
and well mannered gentleman of her attendance to greet the Prince from
her, charging him to say, that if her sex and the custom of the country
had suffered her to visit him, she would right gladly have come very
readily to offer him her best services, as all the great Lords of the
Kingdom had done. But she did beg him to take the will for the deed,
offering him the use of her houses, castles and her best service in all
things.
The Grand Prior, who was courtesy itself, did thank her most heartily,
as was but meet; and did send word how that he would come to kiss
her hands straightway after dinner. And this he did not fail to do,
accompanied by all of us gentlemen which were with him in his suite. We
did find the Marquise in her guest hall along with her two daughters,
Donna Antonina and Donna Hieronima,—or was it Donna Joanna?[177*] for
indeed I cannot say for sure, it having now slipped my memory,—as well
as many other fair dames and damsels, so richly apparelled and of such
a charming grace as that I have never, outside our own Court of France
and that of Spain, seen elsewhere a more beauteous band of fair ladies.
Then did the Marquise salute the Grand Prior in the French fashion
and did welcome him with every mark of honour; and he did return the
same, even yet more humbly,—_con mas gran sosiego_ (with the very
greatest respect), as they say in Spanish. Their discourse was for the
present of mere commonplaces; while the rest of us, such as could speak
Italian or Spanish, did accost the other ladies, whom we did find most
honourable and gallant, and of very pleasing conversation.
On our departure, the Marquise, having learned from the Grand Prior
that he did purpose to make a stay of a fortnight in the place, said
thus to him: “Sir, if at any time you know not what to do and are in
lack of pastime, your coming hither will ever do me much honour, and
you shall be most welcome, as it were at the house of your own lady
mother; and I beg you to use the same precisely as though it were your
own, neither more nor less. I have the good fortune to be loved and
visited by honourable and fair dames of this Kingdom and city as much
as any lady therein; and seeing your youth and merit do set you to love
the conversation of honourable ladies, I will beseech them to resort
hither yet more frequently than they do use, to bear you company and
all the fair and noble gentlefolk which be with you. Here stand my
two daughters, the which I will direct, albeit they are not so well
accomplished as they should be, to bear you company after the French
fashion, to wit to laugh, dance, play and talk freely, modestly and
honourably, even as you do at the Court of France. And I would gladly
enough offer myself for one; only ’twould be very irksome to a young
Prince, handsome and gallant like yourself, to have to entertain an
old woman, worn out, tiresome and unlovable such as I. For verily and
indeed youth and age do scarce accord well together.”
These words the Grand Prior did straightway take objection to, assuring
her that old age had gat no hold at all upon her, and that he would
never hear of any such thing, but that her Autumn did overpass all the
Springtides and Summers that were in that hall. And truly she did still
seem a very handsome and very lovable woman, yea! even more than her
two daughters, pretty and young as these were. Yet was she then very
nigh sixty good years old. This little speech of the Prince did much
pleasure the Marquise, as we could easily see by her laughing face and
all her words and ways.
We did leave her house exceeding delighted with the lady,—and above all
the Grand Prior himself, who had instantly fallen in love with her,
as he did inform us. Little doubt then but this fair and honourable
lady, and her fair band of attendant dames, did draw the Grand Prior to
resort every day to her house; for indeed if we went not there after
dinner, we did so in the evening. The Prince did take for mistress her
eldest daughter, albeit he did better love the mother; but ’twas done
_per adumbrar la cosa_,—“to veil the matter.”