bear away the prize, as well as many ballets and dances. In a word, the
gay society he did enjoy was the cause of this, that whereas he had
purposed to tarry but a fortnight, we were there for a good six weeks.
Nor were we in any wise irked thereby, for we had likewise gotten us
mistresses no less than our General. Nay! we had certainly remained
longer still, had not a courier come from the King, bringing him news
of the breaking out of the war in Spain. For this cause he had to weigh
anchor and carry his galleys from the Eastern shore to the Western,
though in fact they did not cross over till eight months later.
So had we to take leave of all these delightsome pleasures, and quit
the good and gracious town of Naples; and truly ’twas not without great
sadness and many regrets to our General and all of us, but we were
right sorry to leave a place where we had been so happy.
At the end of some six years, or mayhap longer, when we were on our
way to the succour of Malta, I was again at Naples and did make enquiry
if the aforesaid fair lady were yet alive. I was told yes! and that
she was in that town. Instantly I made a point of going to see her;
and was immediately recognized by an old seneschal of her house, which
did away to tell his mistress that I was fain to kiss her hands. She,
remembering my name of Bourdeille, did summon me up to her chamber to
see her. I found her keeping her bed, by reason of a slight rash she
had on one of her cheeks. She did make me, I swear, a right excellent
welcome. I did find her very little changed, and still so handsome a
woman she might well have made any man commit a mortal sin, whether in
will or deed.
She did ask me eagerly for news of my late General the Grand Prior,
and lovingly, and how he had died; and saying she had been told how
that he had been poisoned, did curse an hundred times over the wretch
that had done the deed. I told her ’twas not so, and bade her disabuse
her fancy of any such idea, informing her how he had died really of a
treacherous and secret pleurisy he had caught at the battle of Dreux,
where he had fought like a Cæsar all day long. But at evening, after
the last charge, being greatly heated by fight and a-sweat, and then
withdrawing on a night of the most bitter hard frost, he was chilled to
the bone. He did conceal his sickness, and died of it a month or six
weeks afterward.
She did manifest, both by words and manner, her deep regret for him.
And note now, two or three years before this, he had despatched two
galleys on a freebooting expedition under the charge of Captain
Beaulieu, one of the Lieutenants of his galleys. He had adopted the
flag of the Queen of Scots, one which had never been seen or known
in the Eastern seas, and which did cause folk much amaze; for ’twas
out of the question to take that of France, because of the alliance
with the Turks. Now the Grand Prior had given orders to the said
Captain Beaulieu to land at Naples and pay a visit on his behalf to
the Marquise de Gouast and her daughters, to which three ladies he did
send by his hand an host of presents, all the little novelties then
in vogue at the Court and Palace, in Paris and in France generally.
Indeed this same noble Grand Prior was ever the soul of generosity
and magnificence. This task Captain Beaulieu did not fail to perform,
and did present all his master’s gifts; himself was most excellently
received, and rewarded by a fine present for his mission.
The Marquise did feel such obligation for these gifts and for that he
had continued to remember her, that she did tell me again and again how
gratified she had been and how she had loved him yet more than afore
for his goodness. Again for love of him, she did a graceful courtesy
to a gentleman of Gascony, which was at that time an officer in the
galleys of the Grand Prior. This gentleman was left behind, when we set
sail, sick unto death. But so kind was fortune to him, that addressing
himself to the said lady in his adversity, he was so well succoured of
her that his life was saved. She did take him in her household, and did
serve him so well, as that a Captaincy falling vacant in one of her
Castles, she did bestow the same on him, and procured him to marry a
rich wife to boot.
None of the rest of us were aware what had become of the poor
gentleman, and we deemed him dead. But lo! at the time of this latter
voyage to Malta, there was amongst us a gentleman, younger brother
of him I spake of, which did one day in heedless talk tell me of the
main occasion for his going abroad. This he said was to seek news of
a brother of his that had formerly been in the service of the Grand
Prior, and had tarried behind sick at Naples more than six years before
and had never been heard of since. Then did I bethink me, and presently
did make enquiry for news of him of the folk belonging to the Marquise.
These told me of his good fortune, and I did at once inform the younger
brother. The latter did thank me very heartily, and accompanied me to
pay his respects to the said lady, who did take him into great favour
also, and went to visit him at his lodging.
Truly a pretty gratitude and remembrance of a friendship of old
days,—which remembrance she did still cherish, as I have said. For she
did make me even better cheer than before, and did entertain me with
tales of the old happy time and many other subjects,—all which did make
me to find her company very pleasant and agreeable. For she was of a
good intelligence and bright wit, and an excellent talker.
She did beseech me an hundred times over to take no other lodging or
meal but with her; but to this I would never consent, it not being my
nature ever to be importunate or self-seeking. But I did use to go and
visit her every day for the seven or eight days we did tarry there, and
I was always most welcome, and her chamber ever open to me without any
difficulty.
When at last I bade her adieu, she did give me letters of
recommendation to her son, the Marquis de Pescaïre, General at that
time in the Spanish army.[178*] Besides which, she did make me promise
that on my return I would come to see her, and take up my lodging in
no other house but hers.
However so great was my ill luck that the galleys which did carry us
did land us only at Terracina, from whence we hied to Rome, and I was
unable to retrace my steps. Moreover I was fain at that time to join
the wars in Hungary; but being at Venice, we did learn the death of
the great Sultan Soliman.[179*] ’Twas there I did curse my luck an
hundred times over, for that I had not anyhow returned to Naples, where
I should have passed my time to advantage. Indeed it may well be, that
by favour of my lady the Marquise I should there have found some good
fortune, whether by marriage or otherwise. For she did certainly do me
the honour to like me well.
I suppose my evil destiny willed it not so, but was determined to take
me back again to France to be for ever unfortunate there. In this hath
dame Fortune never showed me a favourable countenance, except only so
far as appearances go and a fair repute as a good and gallant man of
worth and honour. Yet goods and rank have I never gotten like sundry
of my comrades,—and even some of our lower estate, men I have known
which would have deemed themselves happy if I had but spoke to them in
a courtyard, or King’s or Queen’s apartment, or in hall, though only
aside and over the shoulder. Yet to-day I do see these same fellows
advanced and grown exceeding big with the rapidity of pumpkins,—though
indeed I do make but light of them and hold them no greater than myself
and would not defer to any of them by so much as the length of my nail.
Well, well! I may herein apply to myself the word which our Redeemer
Jesus Christ did pronounce out of his own mouth, “a prophet hath no
honour in his own country.” Mayhap had I served foreign Princes as well
as I have done mine own, and sought adventure among them as I have
among those of our land, I should now be more laden with wealth and
dignities than I actually am with years and vexations. Patience! if
’tis my Fate hath spun it so, I do curse the jade; if ’tis my Princes
be to blame, I do give them to all the devils, an if they be not there
already!
This doth end my account of this most honourable lady. She is dead,
with an excellent repute as having been a right fair noble dame and
having left behind her a good and generous line, as the Marquis eldest
son, Don Juan, Don Carlos, Don Cæsar d’Avalos, all which myself have
seen and have spoke of them elsewhere. The daughters no less have
followed in their brothers’ steps. And herewith I do terminate the main
thread of my principal Discourse.
NOTES AND APPENDICES
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BIBLIOGRAPHY
(This list is simply a selection from the many editions of the works
of Brantôme in French and German. There are also texts in Spanish and
Italian. A complete bibliography would fill many pages and would not be
essential to the present text.)
EDITIONS
— Leyde, 1666, chez Sambix le jeune, 2 vol. in-12. Le titre portait.
“_Vies des dames galantes._”
— Leyde, 1666, chez Jean de la Tourterelle, 2 vol. in-12. Le titre
portait. “_Mémoires de messire Pierre de Bourdeille, seigneur de
Brantôme, contenans les vies des dames galantes de son temps._”
— Leyde, 1722, chez Jean de la Tourterelle, 2 vol. in-12. Titre rouge et
noir. Mème titre que dans l’édition précédente et mêmes fautes.
— Londres, 1739, Wood et S. Palmer, 2 vol. in-12, titre rouge et noir.
“_Mémoires de messire Pierre de Bourdeille, seigneur de Brantôme,
contenant les vies des dames galantes de son temps._” Édition copiée
sur les précédentes.
— La Haye, 1740, 15 vol. in-12. Cette édition est de Le Duchat, Lancelot
et Prosper Marchand, et les remarques critiques ont servi aux éditions
postérieures.
— Londres, 1779, aux dépens du libraire, 15 vol. in-8^o. “_Œuvres du
seigneur de Brantôme, nouvelle édition considérablement augmentée,
accompagnée de remarques historiques et critiques et distribuée, dans
un meilleur ordre._” Les _Dames galantes_ occupent les tomes III et IV.
— Paris, 1822, Foucault, 8 vol. in-8^o. “_Œuvres complétes du seigneur
de Brantôme, accompagnées de remarques historiques et critiques.
Nouvelle édition collationnée sur les manuscrits de la Bibliothèque du
Roi._” (Monmerqué). Les _Dames galantes_ occupent le VII^e vol.
— Paris, 1834, Ledoux, 2 vol. in-8^o. “_Les Dames galantes, par le
seigneur de Brantôme, nouvelle édition avec une préface de M. Ph.
Chasles._” Édition qui a beaucop et mal profité de l’édition
précédente.
— Paris, 1841–1869, Garnier frères, 1 vol. in-18. Édition populaire
plusieurs fois réimprimée et faite d’après l’édition de 1740.
— Paris, 1857, A. Delahays, 1 vol. in-12. “_Œuvres de Brantôme, nouvelle
édition revue d’après les meilleurs textes, avec une préface historique
et critique par H. Vigneau. Vies des Dames galantes._” Édition faite
d’après les éditions antéricures. Les notes sont bonnes.
Il a été fait une nouvelle édition de ce travail en 1857, chez
Delahays, en in-18.
— Paris, 1876, Renouard, libraire de la Société de l’histoire de France.
“_Œuvres complètes de Pierre de Bourdeille, seigneur de Brantôme,
publiées d’après les manuscrits, avec variantes et fragments inédits,
pour la Société de l’histoire de France, par Ludovic Lalanne. Tome
neuvième. Des Dames_” (suite). Un gros vol. in-8 de 743 pages, titre
non compris.
Cette édition est la première qui indique les sources auxquelles
Brantôme a puisé ses historiettes. M. Lalanne n’a laissé aucun passage
sans une explication toujours courte et toujours substantielle.
— L’Œuvre du Seigneur de Brantôme. “_Vie des Dames galantes._”
Introduction and notes by B. de Villeneuve. Paris, 1913.
— _Les Dames galantes._ Publiées d’apres les manuscrits de la
Bibliothèque Nationale, par Henri Bouchot. 2 vols. E. Flammarion.
Paris. (A very fine edition.)
— Brantôme: _Das Leben der Galanten Damen._ (Dionysos-Bücherei).
Introduction by George Harsdörfer. 2 vols. Berlin. (The best German
edition.)
— Brantôme: _Lives of Fair and Gallant Ladies._ Translated from the
original by A. R. Allinson. 2 vols. Paris. Carrington. 1902.
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_APPENDIX—A_
BRANTÔME: By ARTHUR TILLEY
Like Montaigne, Brantôme pretended to be careless of literary fame,
but in reality took every pains to secure it; like Montaigne he
loved digressions, _gaillardes escapades_, from his main theme; like
Montaigne he has drawn for us, though in his case unconsciously, a
portrait of himself; like Montaigne he was curious of information,
fond of travel and books. But these points of similarity are after all
superficial; the difference is fundamental. While Montaigne tested the
world and society by the light of his shrewd common sense, Brantôme
accepted them without question or reflexion. Montaigne was essentially
a thinker, Brantôme was merely a reporter; Montaigne was a moralist,
for Brantôme the word morality had no meaning. Montaigne criticised
his age, Brantôme reflected it. That indeed is Brantôme’s chief value,
that he reflects his age like a mirror, but it must be added that he
reflects chiefly its more trivial, not to say its more scandalous side.
He is the Suetonius of the French Renaissance.
Pierre de Bourdeille, “reverend father in God, abbé de Brantôme,”
belonged to a noble and ancient family of Perigord. The precise date
of his birth is uncertain, but it must be placed somewhere between
1539 and 1542. He spent his childhood with his grandmother, Louise de
Vivonne, wife of the seneschal of Poitou, at the court of Margaret
of Navarre, and after studying first at Paris and then at Poitiers,
travelled for more than a year in Italy, returning to France at the
beginning of 1560, when he made his first appearance at the court.
Though he already held other benefices besides the abbey from which
he took his title, he was not in orders. The next fourteen years were
spent by him either in fighting on the Catholic side in the religious
wars, or in attendance at the court, or in travel. In 1574 his military
career came to an end, for his duties as gentleman of the chamber, to
which post he had been appointed in 1568, kept him at court, frivolous,
idle, and discontented. At last the refusal of Henry III. to bestow on
him the promised post of governor of Perigord filled him with such fury
that he determined to enter the service of Spain. But a fall from his
horse, which kept him in bed for four years (1583–1587), saved him from
being a renegade to his country and turned him into a man of letters.
For it was during this forced inactivity, apparently in 1584, that he
began his literary labours, which he continued for the next thirty
years, most of which he spent on his estate. He died in 1614, leaving
a will of portentous length, in which, among other things, he charged
his heirs to have his works printed _en belle et grand lettre et grand
volume_. The charge was neglected, and it was not till 1665–1666 that
an incomplete and defective edition was published at Leyden, in the
Elzevir form. Previous to this, however, several copies had been made
of his manuscripts, and Le Laboureur in his edition of Castelnau’s
Memoirs, published in 1659, had printed long extracts.
Brantôme was a disappointed man when he wrote his memoirs. He had
been an assiduous courtier for a quarter of a century and had gained
nothing by it, while he had seen men whose merits he believed to be
inferior to his rise to wealth and honour. But though he had the love
of frivolity and the moral indifference of a true courtier, he had not
his pliability. “He was violent,” says Le Laboureur, “difficult to live
with and of a too unforgiving spirit.” Perhaps the best thing that can
be said in his favour is that among his most intimate friends were two
of the most virtuous characters of their time, Téligny, the son-in-law
of Coligny, and Téligny’s brother-in-law, François de la Noue. Among
his other friends were Louis de Bérenger, seigneur du Guast, who was
assassinated by order of Marguerite de Valois, and above all Filippo
Strozzi, the son of Piero Strozzi, who was his friend for over twenty
years, and who exercised over him considerable influence.
The names by which Brantôme’s writings are generally known are not
those which he himself gave them. Thus the titles _Dames illustres_
and _Dames galantes_ are an invention of the Leyden publisher for the
_Premier et Second livre des Dames_. The other main division of his
writings, _Hommes_, consisted in Brantôme’s manuscript of two volumes,
the first containing the _Grands capitaines_, French and Spanish,
and the second _Les couronnels, Discours sur les duels, Rodomontades
espagnoles_, and a separate account of La Noue. His original manuscript
was completed while Margaret was still the wife of Henry IV., that is
to say before November, 1599, but some time after her divorce he made
a carefully revised copy. It is upon this copy that the text of M.
Lalanne’s edition is based for the first five volumes.
Regarded strictly as biographies Brantôme’s lives have slender merit,
for the majority give one little or no idea of the character of the
persons treated. He is at least successful with those who had in
them elements of real greatness, such as Coligny and Condé. Even the
long life of François de Guise, though it contains some interesting
and valuable information, throws little light on Guise himself. But
he gives us good superficial portraits of Charles IX., Catharine de
Medici, and the Constable de Montmorency, while several of the minor
lives, such as Brissac and his brother Cosse, Matignon, and Mary
of Hungary, are not only amusing but hit off the characters with
considerable success. One of the most entertaining is the unfinished
account of his father. On the other hand the account of Margaret of
Valois, though it contains some interesting details, is too ecstatic
in its open-mouthed admiration to have any value as a biography. The
conclusion of the account of Monluc may be quoted not only for its
reference to Monluc’s conversational powers, but as throwing light on
Brantôme’s own character.
Much of the interest of Brantôme’s book is to be found in his numerous
digressions, for which he is constantly apologizing. Thus in the middle
of the account of Montmorency we have a laudatory sketch of Michel
de l’Hospital, in that of Tavannes a digression on the order of St.
Michael, in that of Bellegarde an account of his own treatment by Henry
III. The digressions are frequently made occasions for amusing stories,
which, like Montaigne’s, are distinguished from such as Bouchet and
Beroalde de Verville collected, in that they generally illustrate some
trait of human character.
Like Montaigne again, Brantôme copies freely and without acknowledgment
from books. Whole pages are taken from _Le loyal serviteur_, stories
are borrowed from Rabelais, Des Periers, and the _Heptameron_, as
well as from most of the writers dealt with in the last chapter. But
Brantôme, unlike Montaigne, tries to conceal his thefts by judicious
alterations, or by pretending that he heard the story himself, or even
that he was a witness of the event related. _J’ai ouy conter_ and _J’ai
vu_ are frequently in his mouth. He was doubtless chiefly influenced in
these endeavours to conceal his borrowings by the same form of vanity
as Montaigne, the desire to be regarded, not as a man of letters, but
as a gentleman who amused himself by putting down his reminiscences
on paper. It is for this reason that he tries to give a negligent
and conversational air to his style. The result is that he is often
ungrammatical and sometimes obscure. Yet his style, at any rate in the
eyes of a foreigner, has considerable merit, and chiefly from its power
of vivid presentment. For Brantôme, like other Gascons, like Montaigne
and Monluc and Henry IV., saw things vividly and can make his readers
see them. He has a store of expressive words and phrases such as _un
peu hommasse_ (of Mary of Hungary). A noticeable feature of his style
is his love of Italian and Spanish words, reflecting in this, as in
other features, the prevailing fashion of the Court.
Brantôme’s keen enjoyment of the world pageantry was seldom disturbed
by inconvenient reflexion. His only quarrel with society was that
the ruling powers were blind to his own merits. He thought the duel,
even in the treacherous and bloodthirsty fashion in which it was then
carried on, an excellent institution, and at the end of his account of
Coligny he inserts an elaborate disquisition on the material benefits
which the religious wars had conferred on France. All classes had
profited, nobles, clergy, magistrates, merchants, artisans.
And all this is said in sober earnest, without a suspicion of irony.
One might at any rate give Brantôme credit for originality had he not
told us at the outset that this was the substance of a conversation
which he overheard at Court between two great persons, one a soldier
and the other a statesman, and both excellent Catholics. Brantôme was
the echo as well as the mirror of the Court.
Brantôme’s glowing panegyric on Margaret of Valois induced that
virtuous princess to write her memoirs, partly in order to supplement
his account of her, partly to correct a few errors into which he had
fallen. It is to Brantôme accordingly that her memoirs are addressed.
They were written about the year 1597 in the château of Usson in
Auvergne, where she had resided, nominally as a prisoner, since 1587.
[From _The Literature of the French Renaissance_, Vol. II. 1904.]
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_APPENDIX—B_
BRANTÔME: By GEORGE SAINTSBURY
The complement and counterpart of this moralising[180] on human
business and pleasure is necessarily to be found in chronicles of
that business and that pleasure as actually pursued. In these the
sixteenth century is extraordinarily rich. Correspondence had hardly
yet attained the importance in French literature which it afterwards
acquired, but professed history and, still more, personal memoirs were
largely written. The name of Brantôme has been chosen as the central
and representative name of this section of writers, because he is on
the whole the most original and certainly the most famous of them.
His work, moreover, has more than one point of resemblance to that of
the great contemporary author (Montaigne) with whom he is linked at
the head of this chapter. Brantôme neither wrote actual history nor
directly personal memoirs, but desultory biographical essays, forming a
curious and perhaps designed pendant to the desultory moral essays of
his neighbour Montaigne. Around him rank many writers, some historians
pure and simple, some memoir-writers pure and simple, of whom not a few
approach him in literary genius, and surpass him in correctness and
finish of style, while almost all exceed him in whatever advantage may
be derived from uniformity of plan, and from regard to the decencies of
literature.