from one story to the other. Boccaccio, the foremost story-teller
of this period, is more logical. An academical critic says of
Brantôme: “He reports without choice what is good and bad, what is
noble and abominable, the good not without warmth, but the bad with
indestructible cheerfulness.” There is neither order nor method in his
writing. He passes on abruptly, without motif, without transition. A
courtier, unfamiliar with the rules of the school, he himself confesses
(in the _Rodomontades Espagnoles_): “Son pen de profession du scavoir
et de l’art de bien dire, et remet aux meux disans la belle disposition
de paroles eloquentes.” Because of the variety his stories have unusual
charm. In these numerous anecdotes the graceful indecencies of the
ladies-in-waiting at the court of the Valois are described as if they
had happened openly. His reports of the illicit relations are rendered
in a charming style. Even though his sketches and pictures are modelled
entirely on the life at the courts, nevertheless he adds two personal
elements: an amusing smile and a remarkable literary talent. The
following may even have been the case. In the beginning Brantôme may
have taken an entirely neutral attitude towards the material at hand,
but took no greater personal interest in them than he would, say, in
memoirs. But when we can tell a story well, then we also take pleasure
in our ability. We permeate the story with our own enjoyment, and in
a flash it turns out to be pleasure in the thing itself. The light
of our soul glows upon them and then the things themselves look like
gold. Brantôme rarely breaks through his reserve. He usually keeps
his own opinions regarding these grand ladies and gentlemen in the
background, he leaves it to the competent “grands discoureurs” to judge
these things. To be sure, if one wished to get information regarding
the court of Henri II. and Catherine of Medici, one ought not exactly
to read Brantôme, who creates the impression as if the court were a
model of a moral institution. “Sa compaignie et sa court estait un vray
paradis du monde et escole de toute honnestate, de virtu, l’ornement
de la France,” he once says somewhere in the _Dames illustres_ (page
64). On the other hand, L’Etorle in May, 1577, gives us a report of a
banquet given by the Queen-mother in Chenonceaux: “Les femmes les plus
belles et honnestes de la cour, estant a moitie nues et ayant, les
cheveux epars comme espousees, fuient employees a faire le service.”
Other contemporaries likewise report a great deal of the immorality
prevailing at the court. Thus we have curious reports regarding the
pregnancy of Limeuil, who had her birth-throes in the queen’s wardrobe
in Lyon (1564), the father being the Prince of Conde. Likewise, Johanna
d’Albret warns her son, later Henri IV., against the corruption of the
court. When she later visited him in Paris she was horrified at the
immorality at the court of her daughter-in-law, later Queen Margot, who
lived in the “most depraved and dissolute society.” (Brantôme pretended
that he was a relative of hers, and pronounced a panegyric upon her in
his Rodomontades which was answered in her memoirs dedicated to him.)
He did not feel it his mission to be a Savonarola. To his great regret
this “culture” came home to him in his own family. He had more and
more cause to be dissatisfied with his youngest sister, Madeleine. The
wicked life of this lady-in-waiting filled him with fury. He paid her
her share and drove her from the house.
Certain Puritans among the historians find fault with Brantôme for
having uncovered the “abominations” at the courts of the Valois. His
vanity may have led him to make many modifications in the events, but
most of these are probably due to his desire to be entertaining. In his
dedication to the _Rodomontades Espagnoles_ he addresses Queen Margot
as follows: “Bien vous dirai-je, que ce que j’escrits est plein de
verite; de ce que j’ay veu, je l’asseure, di ce que j’ay seen et appris
d’autray, si on m’a trompe je n’en puis mais si tiens-je pourtant
beaucoup de choses de personnages et de livres tres-veritables et
dignes de foy.” Nevertheless, his method was very primitive. In his
descriptions of personalities, he had a thread on which he could string
up his recollections, so that there was at least some consistency.
In the book of Fair and Gallant Ladies the individual fact is of
less importance and has more of symbolic value. They are pictures of
the time composed of a confusing multitude of anecdotes. Perhaps
the subject-matter required this bizarre method. The _Heptameron_ of
Marguerite of Navarre was altogether too precise. Brantôme was a man
of the sword and a courtier, but a courtier who occasionally liked to
put his hand on his sword in between his witticisms. In this state of
mind, he was an excellent story-teller, and his anecdotes and stories
therefore also have the actuality and the vigorous composition of
naïvely related stories.
The book of Fair and Gallant Ladies still contains much of historical
value. Almost all the old noble races are mentioned; there is
information regarding Navarre, Parma, Florence, Rome and Toulouse. The
Huguenots likewise appear, and St. Bartholomew’s Eve (1572), which
was far back, still sheds its gloom over these pages. The trenches
before La Rochelle play an important part; Brantôme always fought
against the Huguenots. Perhaps this was the reason why he was no
longer in favor with the Bourbon Henri IV. However, one cannot charge
him with animosity. Perhaps the frank and open methods of reforming
had affected him. Without taking interest in religious quarrels, he
probably also hated the monks and priests. Thus one would be inclined
to say to the Puritans who condemn Brantôme: If one may speak of guilt
and responsibility, then it is his age which must bear them. Brantôme
merely chronicled the morals of his times. The material was furnished
to him, he merely wrote it down. He is no more responsible for his
book, than an editor of a newspaper for the report of a raid or a bomb
attack. Ranke once said regarding the times of Henri II.: “If one
wishes to know the thoughts and opinions of France at that period, one
must read Rabelais” (History of France, Ch. I, 133). Whoever wishes to
become familiar with the age of Charles IX. and Henri III. must read
Brantôme.
GEORG HARSDÖRFER.
(Translated from the German.)
LIVES OF FAIR AND
GALLANT LADIES
[Illustration: Decorative scrollwork above chapter start]
FIFTH DISCOURSE
Telling how fair and honourable ladies do love brave
and valiant men, and brave men courageous women.[1*]
1.
It hath ever been the case that fair and honourable ladies have loved
brave and valiant men, albeit by natural bent they be cowardly and
timid creatures. But such a virtue doth valour possess with them, as
that they do grow altogether enamoured thereof. What else is this but
to constrain their exact opposite to love them, and this spite of their
own natural complexion? And for an instance of this truth, Venus,
which in ancient days was the goddess of Beauty, and of all gentle and
courteous bearing, being fain, there in the skies and at the Court of
Jupiter, to choose her some fair and handsome lover and so make cuckold
her worthy husband Vulcan, did set her choice on never a one of the
pretty young gallants, those dapper, curled darlings, whereof were so
many to hand, but did select and fall deep in love with the god Mars,
god of armies and warlike prowess,—and this albeit he was all foul and
a-sweat with the wars he had but just come from, and all besmirched
with dust and as filthy as might be, more smacking of the soldier in
the field than the gallant at Court. Nay! worse still, very oft mayhap
all bloody, as returning from battle, he would so lie with her, without
any sort of cleansing of himself or scenting of his person.
Again, the fair and high-born Penthesilea, Queen of the Amazons, having
learned of fame concerning the valour and prowess of the doughty
Hector, and his wondrous feats of arms which he did before Troy against
the Greeks, did at the mere report of all this grow so fondly enamoured
of the hero, that being fain to have so valiant a knight for father of
her children, her daughters to wit which should succeed to her kingdom,
she did hie her forth to seek him at Troy. There beholding him, and
contemplating and admiring his puissance, she did all ever she could to
find favour with him, not less by the brave deeds of war she wrought
than by her beauty, the which was exceeding rare. And never did Hector
make sally upon his foes but she would be at his side, and was always
as well to the front as Hector himself in the mêlée, wherever the
fight was hottest. In such wise that ’tis said she did several times
accomplish such deeds of daring and so stir the Trojan’s wonder as
that he would stop short as if astonished in the midst of the fiercest
combats, and so withdraw somewhat on one side, the better to see and
admire this most valiant Queen doing such gallant deeds.
Thereafter, we leave the world to suppose what was the issue of their
love, and if they did put the same in practise; and truly the result
could not long be doubtful. But any way, their pleasure was to be of
no great duration for the Queen, the better to delight her lover, did
so constantly rush forth to confront all hazards, that she was slain
at last in one of the fiercest and fellest encounters. Others however
say she did never see Hector at all, but that he was dead before
her arrival. So coming on the scene and learning his death, she did
thereupon fall into so great grief and such sadness to have lost the
goodly sight she had so fondly desired and had come from so far a land
to seek, that she did start forth to meet a voluntary death in the
bloodiest battles of the war; and so she died, having no further cause
to live, now she had failed of beholding the gallant being she had
chosen as best of all and had loved the most.[2]
The like was done by Thalestris, another Queen of the Amazons, who did
traverse a great country and cover I know not how many leagues for to
visit Alexander the Great, and asking it of him as a favour, or as but
a fair exchange of courtesy, did lie with him in order that she might
have issue by him of so noble and generous a blood, having heard him
so high rated of all men. This boon did Alexander very gladly grant
her; and verily he must needs have been sore spoiled and sick of women
if he had done otherwise, for the said Queen was as beautiful as she
was valiant. Quintus Curtius, Orosius and Justin do affirm moreover
that she did thus visit Alexander with three hundred ladies in her
suite, all bearing arms, and all so fair apparelled and of such a
beauteous grace as that naught could surpass the same. So attended, she
did make her reverence before the King, who did welcome her with the
highest marks of honour. And she did tarry thirteen days and thirteen
nights with him, submitting herself in all ways to his good will and
pleasure. At the same time she did frankly tell him how that if she had
a daughter by him, she would guard her as a most priceless treasure;
but an if she had a son, that she would send him back to the King,
by reason of the abhorrence she bear to the male sex, in the matter
of holding rule and exercising any command among them, in accordance
with the laws introduced in their companies after they had slain their
husbands.
Herein need we have no doubt whatever but that the rest of the ladies
and attendant dames did after a like manner, and had themselves covered
by the different captains and men of war of the said King Alexander.
For they were bound in this matter to follow their mistress’ example.
So too the fair maiden Camilla, at once beautiful and noble-hearted,
and one which did serve her mistress Diana right faithfully in the
woodlands and forests on her hunting parties, having heard the bruit of
Turnus’ valiance, and how he had to do with another valiant warrior, to
wit Aeneas, which did press him sore, did choose her side. Then did she
seek out her favourite and join him, but with three very honourable and
fair ladies beside for her comrades, the which she had taken for her
close friends and trusty confidantes,—and for tribads too mayhap, and
for mutual naughtiness. And so did she hold these same in honour and
use them on all occasions, as Virgil doth describe in his _Æneid_. And
they were called the one Armia, a virgin and a valiant maid, another
Tullia, and the third Tarpeia, which was skilled to wield the pike and
dart, and that in two divers fashions, be it understood,—all three
being daughters of Italy.[3*]
Thus then did Camilla arrive with her beauteous little band (as they
say “little and good”) for to seek out Turnus, with whom she did
perform sundry excellent feats of arms; and did sally forth so oft
and join battle with the doughty Trojans that she was presently slain,
to the very sore grief of Turnus, who did regard her most highly, as
well for her beauty as for the good succour she brought. In such wise
did these fair and courageous dames seek out brave and valiant heroes,
succouring the same in their ways and encounters.
What else was it did fill the breast of poor Dido with the flame of
so ardent a love, what but the valiance she did feel to be in her
Aeneas,—if we are to credit Virgil? For she had begged him to tell her
of his wars, and the ruin and destruction of Troy, and he had gratified
her wish,—albeit to his own great grief, to renew the memory of such
sorrows, and in his discourse had dwelt by the way on his own valiant
achievements. And Dido having well marked all these and pondered them
in her breast, and presently declaring of her love to her sister Anna,
the chiefest and most pregnant of the words she said to her were these
and no other: “Ah! sister mine, what a guest is this which hath come to
my Court! Oh! the noble way he hath with him, and how his very carriage
doth announce him a brave and most valiant warrior, in deed and in
spirit! I do firmly believe him to be the offspring of some race of
gods; for churlish hearts are ever cowardly of their very nature.” Such
were Dido’s words; and I think she did come to love him so, quite as
much because she was herself brave and generous-hearted, and that her
instinct did push her to love her fellow, as to win help and service
of him in case of need. But the wretch did deceive and desert her in
pitiful wise,—an ill deed he should never have done to so honourable a
lady, which had given him her heart and her love, to him, I say, that
was but a stranger and an outlaw.
Boccaccio in his book of _Famous Folk which have been Unfortunate_,[4]
doth tell a tale of a certain Duchess of Forli, named Romilda, who
having lost husband and lands and goods, all which Caucan, King of the
Avarese, had robbed her of, was constrained to take refuge with her
children in her castle of Forli, and was therein besieged by him. But
one day when he did approach near the walls to make a reconnaissance,
Romilda who was on the top of a tower, saw him and did long and
carefully observe him. Then seeing him so handsome, being in the flower
of his age, mounted on a fine horse and clad in a magnificent suit of
mail, and knowing how he was used to do many doughty deeds of war,
and that he did never spare himself any more than the least of his
soldiers, she did incontinently fall deeply enamoured of the man, and
quitting to mourn for her husband and all care for her castle and the
siege thereof, did send him word by a messenger that, if he would have
her in marriage, she would yield him up the place on the day their
wedding should be celebrated.
King Caucan took her at her word. Accordingly the day agreed upon being
come, lo! she doth deck herself most stately as a duchess should in
her finest and most magnificent attire, which did make her yet fairer
still to look on, exceeding fair as she was by nature. So having come
to the King’s camp for to consummate the marriage, this last, to the
end he might not be blamed as not having kept his word, did spend
all that night in satisfying the enamoured duchess’s desires. But
the next morning, on rising, he did have a dozen Averese soldiers of
his called, such as he deemed to be the strongest and most stalwart
fellows, and gave Romilda into their hands, to take their pleasure of
her one after other. These did have her for all a night long so oft
as ever they could. But then, when day was come again, Caucan having
summoned her before him, and after sternly upbraiding her for her
wantonness and heaping many insults upon her, did have her impaled
through her belly, of which cruel treatment she did presently die.
Truly a savage and barbarous act, so to mishandle a fair and honourable
lady, instead of displaying gratitude, rewarding her and treating her
with all possible courtesy, for the good opinion she had showed of his
generosity, valour and noble courage, and her love for him therefor!
And of this must fair ladies sometimes have good heed; for of these
valiant men of war there be some which have so grown accustomed to
killing and slashing and savagely plying the steel, that now and again
it doth take their humour to exercise the like barbarity on women. Yet
are not all of this complexion, but rather, when honourable ladies do
them this honour to love them and hold their valour in high esteem,
they do leave behind in camp their fury and fierce passions, and in
court and ladies’ chambers do fit themselves to the practise of all
gentleness and kindness and fair courtesy.
Bandello in his _Tragic Histories_[5] doth relate one, the finest story
I have ever read, of a certain Duchess of Savoy, who one day coming
forth from her good town of Turin, did hear a Spanish woman, a pilgrim
on her road to Loretto to perform a vow, cry out and admire her beauty
and loudly declare, how that if only so fair and perfect a lady were
wedded to her brother, the Señor de Mendoza, which was himself so
handsome, brave and valiant, folk might well say in all lands that now
the finest and handsomest couple in all the world were mated together.
The Duchess who did very well understand the Spanish tongue, having
graven these words in her breast and pondered them over in her heart,
did anon begin to grave love in the same place likewise. In such wise
that by this report of his merits she did fall so passionately in
love with the Señor de Mendoza as that she did never slacken till she
had planned a pretended pilgrimage to St. James of Compostella, for
to see the man for whom she had so suddenly been smit with love. So
having journeyed to Spain, and taken the road passing by the house of
de Mendoza, she had time and leisure to content and satisfy her eyes
with a good sight of the fair object she had chosen. For the Señor de
Mendoza’s sister, which was in the Duchess’ train, had advised her
brother of so distinguished and fair a visitor’s coming. Wherefore he
did not fail to go forth to meet her in gallant array, and mounted on a
noble Spanish horse, and this with so fine a grace as that the Duchess
could not but be assured of the truth of the fair report which had been
given her, and did admire him greatly, as well for his handsome person
as for his noble carriage, which did plainly manifest the valiance that
was in him. This she did esteem even more highly than all his other
merits, accomplishments and perfections, presaging even at that date
how she would one day mayhap have need of his valour,—as truly in after
times he did excellently serve her under the false accusation which
Count Pancalier brought against her chastity. Natheless, though she did
find him brave and courageous as a man of arms, yet for the nonce was
he a recreant in love; for he did show himself so cold and respectful
toward her as to try never an assault of amorous words, the very thing
she did most desire, and for which she had undertook her journey.
Wherefore, in sore despite at so chilling a respect, or to speak
plainly such recreancy in love, she did part from him on the morrow,
not near so well content as she had come.
Thus we see how true ’tis that ladies do sometimes love men no less
which are bold in love than they which be brave in arms,—not that they
would have them brazen and over-bold, impudent and self-satisfied, as I
have known some to be. But in this matter must they keep ever the _via
media_.
I have known not a few which have lost many a good fortune with women
by reason of such over-respectfulness, whereof I could tell some
excellent stories, were I not afeared of wandering too far from the
proper subject of my Discourse. But I hope to give them in a separate
place; so I will only tell the following one here.
I have heard tell in former days of a lady, and one of the fairest in
all the world, who having in the like fashion heard a certain Prince
given out by repute for brave and valiant, and that he had already
in his young days done and performed great exploits of war, and in
especial won two great and signal victories against his foes,[6] did
conceive a strong desire to see him; and to this end did make a journey
to the province wherein he was then tarrying, under some pretext or
other that I need not name. Well! at last she did set forth; and
presently,—for what is not possible to a brave and loving heart?—she
doth gain sight of him and can contemplate him at her ease, for he
did come out a long distance to meet her, and doth now receive her
with all possible honour and respect, as was meet for so great, fair
and noble-hearted a Princess. Nay! the respect was e’en _too_ great,
some do say; for the same thing happened as with the Señor de Mendoza
and the Duchess of Savoy, and such excessive respectfulness did but
engender the like despite and dissatisfaction. At any rate she did part
from him by no means so well satisfied as she had come. It may well
be he would but have wasted his time without her yielding one whit to
his wishes; but at the least the attempt would not have been ill, but
rather becoming to a gallant man, and folk would have esteemed him the
better therefor.
Why! what is the use of a bold and generous spirit, if it show not
itself in all things, as well in love as in war? For love and arms be
comrades, and do go side by side with a single heart, as saith the
Latin poet: “Every lover is a man of war, and Cupid hath his camp and
arms no less than Mars.” Ronsard hath writ a fine sonnet hereanent in
the first book of his “Amours.”[7*]
2.
However to return to the fainness women do display to see and love
great-hearted and valiant men,—I have heard it told of the Queen of
England, Elizabeth, the same which is yet reigning at this hour, how
that one day being at table, entertaining at supper the Grand Prior
of France, a nobleman of the house of Lorraine, and M. d’Anville,
now M. de Montmorency and Constable of France, the table discourse
having fallen among divers other matters on the merits of the late
King Henri II. of France, she did commend that Prince most highly, for
that he was so brave, and to use her own word so _martial_ a monarch,
as he had manifested plainly in all his doings. For which cause she
had resolved, an if he had not died so early, to go visit him in his
Kingdom, and had actually had her galleys prepared and made ready for
to cross over into France, and so the twain clasp hands and pledge
their faith and peaceable intent. “In fact ’twas one of my strongest
wishes to see this hero. I scarce think he would have refused me, for,”
she did declare, “my humour is to love men of courage. And I do sore
begrudge death his having snatched away so gallant a King, at any rate
before I had looked on his face.”