suchlike brave and mettlesome lovers, must needs themselves be brave
and very faithful in their dealings with the same, or at any rate so
secret in their intrigues as that they may never be discovered. Unless
indeed they do compass the thing by some arrangement, as do the Italian
and Roman courtesans, who are fain ever to have a _bravo_ (this is the
name they give him) to defend and keep them in countenance; but ’tis
always part of the bargain that they shall have other favoured swains
as well, and the bravo shall never say one word.
This is mighty well for the courtesans of Rome and their bravos, but
not for the gallant gentlemen of France and other lands. But an if an
honourable dame is ready to keep herself in all firmness and constancy,
her lover is bound to spare his life in no way for to maintain and
defend her honour, if she do run the very smallest risk of hurt,
whether to her life or her reputation, or of some ill word of scandal.
So have I seen at our own Court several which have made evil tattlers
to hold their tongues at a moment’s notice, when these had started some
detraction of their ladies or mistresses. For by devoir of knighthood
and its laws we be bound to serve as their champions in any trouble, as
did the brave Renaud for the fair Ginevra in Scotland,[19] the Señor
de Mendoza for the beautiful Duchess I have spoke of above, and the
Seigneur de Carouge for his own wedded wife in the days of King Charles
VI., as we do read in our Chronicles. I could quote an host of other
instances, as well of old as of modern times, to say naught of those I
have witnessed at our own Court; but I should never have done.
Other ladies I have known which have quitted cowardly fellows, albeit
these were very rich, to love and wed gentlemen that did possess naught
at all but sword and cloak, so to say. But then they were valorous and
great-hearted, and had hopes, by dint of their valiance and bravery, to
attain to rank and high estate. Though truly ’tis not the bravest that
do most oft win these prizes; but they do rather suffer sore wrong,
while many a time we behold the cowardly and fainthearted succeed
instead. Yet be this as it may, such fortune doth never become these so
well as it doth the men of valour.
But there, I should never get me done, were I to recount at length the
divers causes and reasons why women do so love men of high heart and
courage. I am quite sure, were I set on amplifying this Discourse with
all the host of reasons and examples I might, I could make a whole book
of it alone. However, as I wish not to tarry over one subject only, so
much as to deal with various and divers matters, I will be satisfied
to have said what I have said,—albeit sundry will likely blame me, how
that such and such a point was surely worthy of being enriched by more
instances and a string of prolix reasons, which themselves could very
well supply, exclaiming, “Why! he hath clean forgot this; he hath clean
forgot that.” I know my subject well enough for all that; and mayhap
I know more instances than ever they could adduce, and more startling
and private. But I prefer not to divulge them all, and not to give the
names.
This is why I do hold my tongue. Yet, before making an end, I will add
this further word by the way. Just as ladies do love men which be
valiant and bold under arms, so likewise do they love such as be of
like sort in love; and the man which is cowardly and over and above
respectful toward them, will never win their good favour. Not that they
would have them so overweening, bold and presumptuous, as that they
should by main force lay them on the floor; but rather they desire
in them a certain hardy modesty, or perhaps better a certain modest
hardihood. For while themselves are not exactly wantons, and will
neither solicit a man nor yet actually offer their favours, yet do they
know well how to rouse the appetites and passions, and prettily allure
to the skirmish in such wise that he which doth not take occasion by
the forelock and join encounter, and that without the least awe of rank
and greatness, without a scruple of conscience or a fear or any sort
of hesitation, he verily is a fool and a spiritless poltroon, and one
which doth merit to be forever abandoned of kind fortune.[20*]
I have heard of two honourable gentlemen and comrades, for the which
two very honourable ladies, and of by no means humble quality, made
tryst one day at Paris to go walking in a garden. Being come thither,
each lady did separate apart one from the other, each alone with her
own cavalier, each in a several alley of the garden, that was so close
covered in with a fair trellis of boughs as that daylight could really
scarce penetrate there at all, and the coolness of the place was very
grateful. Now one of the twain was a bold man, and well knowing how
the party had been made for something else than merely to walk and
take the air, and judging by his lady’s face, which he saw to be all
a-fire, that she had longings to taste other fare than the muscatels
that hung on the trellis, as also by her hot, wanton and wild speech,
he did promptly seize on so fair an opportunity. So catching hold of
her without the least ceremony, he did lay her on a little couch that
was there made of turf and clods of earth, and did very pleasantly work
his will of her, without her ever uttering a word but only: “Heavens!
Sir, what are you at? Surely you be the maddest and strangest fellow
ever was! If anyone comes, whatever will they say? Great heavens!
get out!” But the gentleman, without disturbing himself, did so well
continue what he had begun that he did finish, and she to boot, with
such content as that after taking three or four turns up and down
the alley, they did presently start afresh. Anon, coming forth into
another, open, alley, they did see in another part of the garden the
other pair, who were walking about together just as they had left them
at first. Whereupon the lady, well content, did say to the gentleman in
the like condition, “I verily believe so and so hath played the silly
prude, and hath given his lady no other entertainment but only words,
fine speeches and promenading.”
Afterward when all four were come together, the two ladies did fall to
asking one another how it had fared with each. Then the one which was
well content did reply she was exceeding well, indeed she was; indeed
for the nonce she could scarce be better. The other, which was ill
content, did declare for her part she had had to do with the biggest
fool and most coward lover she had ever seen; and all the time the two
gentlemen could see them laughing together as they walked and crying
out: “Oh! the silly fool! the shamefaced poltroon and coward!” At this
the successful gallant said to his companion: “Hark to our ladies,
which do cry out at you, and mock you sore. You will find you have
overplayed the prude and coxcomb this bout.” So much he did allow; but
there was no more time to remedy his error, for opportunity gave him no
other handle to seize her by. Natheless, now recognizing his mistake,
after some while he did repair the same by certain other means which I
could tell, an if I would.
Again I knew once two great Lords, brothers, both of them highly bred
and highly accomplished gentlemen[21] which did love two ladies, but
the one of these was of much higher quality and more account than the
other in all respects. Now being entered both into the chamber of
this great lady, who for the time being was keeping her bed, each did
withdraw apart for to entertain his mistress. The one did converse with
the high-born dame with every possible respect and humble salutation
and kissing of hands, with words of honour and stately compliment,
without making ever an attempt to come near and try to force the place.
The other brother, without any ceremony of words or fine phrases, did
take his fair one to a recessed window, and incontinently making free
with her (for he was very strong), he did soon show her ’twas not his
way to love _à l’espagnole_, with eyes and tricks of face and words,
but in the genuine fashion and proper mode every true lover should
desire. Presently having finished his task, he doth quit the chamber;
but as he goes, saith to his brother, loud enough for his lady to hear
the words: “Do you as I have done, brother mine; else you do naught
at all. Be you as brave and hardy as you will elsewhere, yet if you
show not your hardihood here and now, you are disgraced; for here is
no place of ceremony and respect, but one where you do see your lady
before you, which doth but wait your attack.” So with this he did leave
his brother, which yet for that while did refrain him and put it off
to another time. But for this the lady did by no means esteem him more
highly, whether it was she did put it down to an over chilliness in
love, or a lack of courage, or a defect of bodily vigour. And still he
had shown prowess enough elsewhere, both in war and love.
The late deceased Queen Mother did one day cause to be played, for
a Shrove Tuesday interlude, at Paris at the Hôtel de Reims, a very
excellent Comedy which Cornelio Fiasco, Captain of the Royal Galleys,
had devised. All the Court was present, both men and ladies, and many
folk beside of the city. Amongst other matters, was shown a young man
which had laid hid a whole night long in a very fair lady’s bedchamber,
yet had never laid finger on her. Telling this hap to his friend, the
latter asketh him: _Ch’avete fatto?_ (What did you do?), to which the
other maketh answer: _Niente_ (Nothing). On hearing this, his friend
doth exclaim: _Ah! poltronazzo, senza cuore! non havete fatto niente!
che maldita sia la tua poltronneria!_—“Oh! poltroon and spiritless! you
did nothing! a curse on your poltroonery then!”
The same evening after the playing of this Comedy, as we were assembled
in the Queen’s chamber, and were discoursing of the said play, I did
ask a very fair and honourable lady, whose name I will not give, what
were the finest points she had noted and observed in the Comedy, and
which had most pleased her. She told me quite simply and frankly: The
best point I noted was when his friend did make answer to the young
man called Lucio, who had told him _che non haveva fatto niente_ (that
he had done nothing) in this wise, _Ah poltronazzo! non havete fatto
niente! che maldita sia la tua poltronneria!_—“Oh! you poltroon! you
did nothing! a curse be on your poltroonery!”
So you see how this fair lady which did talk with me was in agreement
with the friend in reprobating his poltroonery, and that she did in
no wise approve of him for having been so slack and unenterprising.
Thereafter she and I did more openly discourse together of the mistakes
men make by not seizing opportunity and taking advantage of the wind
when it bloweth fair, as doth the good mariner.
This bringeth me to yet another tale, which I am fain, diverting and
droll as it is, to mingle among the more serious ones. Well, then! I
have heard it told by an honourable gentleman and a good friend of
mine own, how a lady of his native place, having often shown great
familiarities and special favour to one of her chamber lackeys, which
did only need time and opportunity to come to a point, the said
lackey, neither a prude nor a fool, finding his mistress one morning
half asleep and lying on her bed, turned over away from the wall,
tempted by such a display of beauty and a posture making it so easy
and convenient, she being at the very edge of the bed, he did come up
softly, and alongside the lady. She turning her head saw ’twas her
lackey, which she was fain of; and just as she was, her place occupied
and all, without withdrawing or moving one whit, and neither resisting
nor trying in the very least to shake off the hold he had of her, did
only say to him, turning round her head only and holding still for
fear of losing him, “Ho! ho! Mister prude, and what hath made you so
bold as to do this?” The lackey did answer with all proper respect,
“Madam, shall I leave?”—“That’s not what I said, Mister prude,” the
lady replied, “I ask you, what made you so bold as to put yourself
there?” But the other did ever come back to the same question, “Madam,
shall I stop? if you wish, I will go out,”—and she to repeating again
and again, “That is not what I say, not what I say, Mister prude!” In
fact, the pair of them did make these same replies and repetitions
three or four times over,—which did please the lady far better than if
she had ordered her gallant to stop, when he did ask her. Thus it did
serve her well to stick to her first question without ever a variation,
and the lover in his reply and the repetition thereof. And in this wise
did they continue to lie together for long after, the same rubric being
always repeated as an accompaniment. For ’tis, as men say, the first
batch only, and the first measure of wine, that costs dear.
A good lackey and an enterprising! To such bold fellows we must needs
say in the words of the Italian proverb, _A bravo cazzo mai non manca
favor_.
Well, from all this you learn how that there be many men which are
brave, bold and valiant, as well in arms as in love; others which be
so in arms, but not in love; others again, which be so in love and not
in arms. Of this last sort was that rascally Paris, who indeed had
hardihood and valiance enough to carry off Helen from her poor cuckold
of a husband Menelaus, but not to do battle with him before Troy town.
Moreover this is why the ladies love not old men, nor such as be too
far advanced in years, seeing such be very timid in love and shamefaced
at asking favours. This is not because they have not concupiscence and
desires as great as young men, or even greater, but because they have
not the powers to match. And this is what a Spanish lady meant, which
said once: how that old men did much resemble persons who, whenas they
do behold kings in their magnificence, domination and authority, do
covet exceedingly to be like them, yet would they never dare to make
any attempt against them to dispossess them of their kingdoms and seize
their place. She was used further to say, _Y a penas es nacido el
deseo, cuando se muere luego_,—“Scarce is the desire born, but it dies
straightway.” Thus old men, when they do see fair objects of attack,
dare not take action, _porque los viejos naturalmente son temerosos; y
amor y temor no se caben en un saco_,—“for that old men are naturally
timid; and love and fear do never go well in one pack.” And indeed they
are quite right; for they have arms neither for offence nor defence,
like young folks, which have youth and beauty on their side. So verily,
as saith the poet: naught is unbecoming to youth, do what it will; and
as another hath it: two sorry sights,—an old man-at-arms and an old
lover.
4.
Well! enough hath been said on this subject; so I do here make an end
and speak no more thereof. Only will I add somewhat on another point,
one that is appertinent and belonging as it were to this, to wit:
how just as fair ladies do love brave men, and such as be valorous
and great-hearted, in like wise do men love women brave of heart and
noble-spirited. And as noble-spirited and courageous men be ever more
lovable and admirable than others, so is the like true of illustrious,
noble-hearted and courageous dames,—not that I would have these perform
the deeds of men, nor yet arm and accoutre them like a man,—as I have
seen and known, as well as heard tell of, some which would mount
a-horse-back like a man, carry their pistol at saddle-bow, shoot off
the same, and generally fight like a man.
I could name one famous instance at any rate of a lady which did all
this during the recent Wars of the League.[22*] But truly suchlike
disguisement is an outrage to the sex. Besides its being neither
becoming nor suitable, ’tis not lawful, and doth bring more harm and
ill repute than many do suppose. Thus it did work great hurt to the
gentle Maid of Orleans, who at her trial was sore calumniated on this
very account, and this was in part cause of her sore and piteous
downfall and death. Wherefore such masqueradings do like me not, nor
stir me to any great admiration. Yet do I approve and much esteem a
fair dame which doth make manifest her courageous and valiant spirit,
being in adversity and downright need, by brave, womanly acts that
do show a man’s heart and courage. Without borrowing examples from
the noble-hearted dames of Rome and of Sparta of yore, the which have
excelled herein all other women in the world, there be others plain
enough to be seen before our very eyes; and I do choose rather to
adduce such modern instances belonging to our own day.
The first example I shall give, and in my eyes the finest I know of
is that of those fair, honourable and doughty dames of Sienna, at the
time of the revolt of their city against the intolerable yoke of the
Imperialists (Ghibellines). For after the dispositions had been fixed
for the defence, the women of the city, being set aside therein as not
apt for war like the men, were fain to make a display of their mettle,
and show how that they could do something else than only ply their
female tasks of day and night. So, to bear their part of the work of
defence, they did divide them into three bands or companies; and one
St. Anthony’s day, in the month of January, they did appear in public
led by three of the fairest ladies, and the greatest and best born, of
all the city, in the Great Square of that town (and it is a very noble
one), with their drums and ensigns.
The first was the Signora Forteguerra, clad in violet, her ensign
of the same colour and all her company in like array, her banner
bearing this device: _Pur che sia il vero_ (Let the truth prevail).
Now all these ladies were dressed in the guise of nymphs, with short
skirts which did best discover and display the fine leg beneath. The
second was the Signora Piccolomini, clad in scarlet, and her company
and ensign the same, with a white cross and this device: _Pur che no
l’habbia tutto_ (Let him not have it all). The third was the Signora
Livia Fausta, clad all in white, and her company in white and a white
ensign, whereon was a palm, and for device: _Pur che l’habbia_ (Let him
have it, then!).
Round about and in the train of these three, which did seem very
goddesses, were a good three thousand other women, both gentlewomen,
citizens’ wives and others, all fair to look upon, and all duly clad in
their proper dress and livery, whether of satin, taffety, damask, or
other silken stuff, and each and all firm resolved to live or die for
freedom. Moreover each did carry a fascine on her shoulder for a fort
which was a-building, while all cried out together, _France, France!_
With this spectacle, so rare and delightsome an one, the Cardinal
of Ferrara and M. de Termes, the French King’s Lieutenants, were so
ravished, as that they did find no other pleasure but only in watching,
admiring and commending these same fair and honourable ladies. And
of a truth I have heard many say, both men and women, which were
there present, that never was seen so fine a sight. And God knoweth,
beautiful women be not lacking in this city of Sienna, and that in
abundance, and without picking and choosing.
The men of the city, which of their own wishes were greatly set on
winning their freedom, were yet more encouraged to the same by this
noble display, unwilling to fall below the women in zeal. In such
wise that all did vie with one another, Lords, gentlemen, citizens,
trades-folk, artizans, rich and poor alike, and all did flock to the
fort to imitate the example of these fair, virtuous and honourable
dames. So all in much emulation,—and not laymen alone, but churchmen
to boot,—did join in pushing on the good work. Then, on returning
back from the fort, the men on one side, and the women likewise
ranged in battle array in the great square before the Palace of the
Signoria,[23*] they did advance one after other, and company after
company, to salute the image of the Blessed Virgin, patroness of the
city, singing the while sundry hymns and canticles in her honour, to
airs so soft and with so gracious an harmony that, part of pleasure,
part of pity, tears ’gan fall from the eyes of all the people present.
These after receiving the benediction of the most reverend Cardinal of
Ferrara, did withdraw, each to their own abode,—all the whole folk, men
and women alike, with fixed resolve to do their duty yet better for
the future.
This sacred ceremony of these ladies doth remind me (but without making
comparison ’twixt the two) of a heathen one, yet goodly withal, which
was performed at Rome at the period of the Punic Wars, as we do read in
the Historian Livy.[24*] ’Twas a solemn progress and procession made by
three times nine, which is twenty-seven, young and pretty Roman maids,
all of them virgins, clad in longish frocks, of which history doth not
however tell us the colours. These dainty maids, their solemn march and
procession completed, did then make halt at a certain spot, where they
proceeded to dance a measure before the assembled people, passing from
hand to hand a cord or ribband, ranged all in order one after other,
and stepping a round, accommodating the motion and twinkling of their
feet to the cadence of the tune and the song they sang the while. It
was a right pretty sight to see, no less for the beauty of the maids
than for their sweet grace, their dainty way of dancing and the adroit
tripping of their feet, the which is one of the chiefest charms of a
maid, when she is skilled to move and guide the same daintily and well.
I have oft pictured to myself the measure they did so dance; and it
hath brought to my mind one I have seen performed in my young days
by the girls of mine own countryside, called the “garter.” In this,
the village girls, giving and taking the garter from hand to hand,
would pass and re-pass these above their heads, then entangle and
interlace the same between their legs, leaping nimbly over them, then
unwinding them and slipping free with little, dainty bounds,—all this
while keeping rank one after other, without once losing cadence with
the song or instrument of music which led the measure, in such wise
that the thing was a mighty pretty thing to see. For the little leaps
and bounds they gave, the interlacing and slipping free again, the
wielding of the garter and the graceful carriage of the girls, did all
provoke so dainty a smack of naughtiness, as that I do marvel much
the said dance hath never been practised at Court in these days of
ours. Pleasant ’tis to see the dainty drawers, and the fine leg freely
exhibited in this dance, and which lass hath the best fitting shoe and
the most alluring mien. But truly it can be better appreciated by the
eye than described in words.
But to return to our ladies of Sienna. Ah! fair and valiant dames, you
should surely never die,—you nor your glory, which will be for ever
immortal. So too another fair and gentle maid of your city, who during
its siege, seeing one night her brother kept a prisoner by sickness
in his bed and in very ill case to go on guard, doth leave him there
a-bed and slipping quietly away from his side, doth take his arms and
accoutrements, and so, a very perfect likeness of her brother, maketh
appearance with the watch. Nor was she discovered, but by favour of
the night was really taken for him she did represent. A gentle act, in
truth! for albeit she had donned a man’s dress and arms, yet was it not
to make a constant habit thereof, but for the nonce only to do a good
office for her brother. And indeed ’tis said no love is like that of
brother and sister, and further that in a good cause no risk should be
spared to show a gentle intrepidity of heart, in whatsoever place it be.
I ween the corporal of the guard which was then in command of the
squad in which was this fair girl, when he wist of her act, was sore
vexed he had not better recognized her, so to have published abroad her
merit on the spot, or mayhap to have relieved her of standing sentry,
or else merely to have taken his pleasure in gazing on her beauty and
grace, and her military bearing; for no doubt at all she did study in
all things to counterfeit a soldier’s mien.