to Nice to visit King Francis. She was then Madame du Bellay, and a
lady which hath from her youth up always had merry ways and spake many
a witty word. One day, prostrating herself at his Holiness’ feet,
she did make three supplications to him: first, that he grant her
absolution, for that when yet a little maid, in waiting on the Queen
Regent’s majesty, and called by the name of Tallard, she did lose her
scissors while sewing of her seam, and did make a vow to St. Allivergot
to perform the same, an if she found them. This she presently did, yet
did never accomplish her vow, not knowing where the said Saint’s body
lay. The second petition was that he give her pardon forasmuch as, when
Pope Clement came to Marseilles, she being still Mlle. Tallard, she
did take one of the pillows of his Holiness’ bed, and did wipe herself
therewith in front and in rear, on the which his Holiness did afterward
rest his noble head and face. The third was this, that the Sieur de
Tays, because she did love the same, but he loved not her, and the man
is accursed and should be excommunicated which loveth not again, if he
be loved.
The Pope at first was sore astonished at these requests, but having
enquired of the King who she was, did learn her witty ways, and laughed
heartily over the matter with the King. Yet from that day forth all she
did was found admirable, so good a grace did she display in all her
ways and words.
Now never suppose this same great monarch was so strict and stern in
his respect for ladies, as that he did not relish well enough any good
stories told him concerning them, without however any scandal-mongering
or decrying of their good name. Rather like the great and highly
privileged King he was, he would not that every man, and all the vulgar
herd, should enjoy like privileges with himself.
I have heard sundry relate how he was ever most anxious that the noble
gentlemen of his Court should never be without mistresses. If they
won none such, he did deem them simpletons and empty fools; while many
a time he would ask one Courtier or another the name of the lady of
his choice, and promise to do them good service in that quarter, and
speak well of their merits. So good-natured a Prince was he and an
affable. Oftentimes too, when he did observe his gentlemen full of free
discourse with their mistresses, he would come up and accost them,
asking what merry and gallant words they were exchanging with their
ladies, and if he found the same not to his liking, correcting them
and teaching them better. With his most intimate friends, he was no
wise shy or sparing to tell his stories and share his good things with
them. One diverting tale I have heard him tell, which did happen to
himself, and which he did later on repeat. This was of a certain young
and pretty lady new come to Court, the which being little skilled in
the ways of the world, did very readily yield to the persuasions of the
great folks, and in especial those of the said monarch himself. One day
when he was fain to erect his noble standard and plant the same in her
fort, she having heard it said, and indeed begun to note that when one
gave a thing to the King, or took aught from him and touched it, the
person must first kiss the hand for to take and touch it withal, did
herself without more ado fulfil the obligation and first very humbly
kissing her hand did seize the King’s standard and plant it in the fort
with all due humbleness. Then did she ask him in cold blood, how he
did prefer her to love him, as a respectable and modest lady, or as a
wanton. No doubt he did ask her for the latter, for herein was she more
able to show herself more agreeable than as a modest woman. And indeed
he soon found out she had by no means wasted her time, both after the
event and before it, and all. When all was done, she would drop him
a deep curtsy, thanking him respectfully for the honour he had done
her, whereof she was all unworthy, often suggesting to him at the same
time some promotion for her husband. I have heard the lady’s name, one
which hath since grown much less simple than at first she was, and is
nowadays cunning and experienced enough. The King made no ado about
repeating the tale, which did reach the ears of not a few folks.
This monarch was exceeding curious to hear of the love of both men and
women, and above all their amorous engagements, and in especial what
fine airs the ladies did exhibit when at their gentle work, and what
looks and attitudes they did display therein, and what words they said.
On hearing all this, he would laugh frank and free, but after would
forbid all publishing abroad thereof and any scandal making, always
strongly recommending an honourable secrecy on these matters.
He had for his good follower herein that great, most magnificent
and most generous nobleman, the Cardinal de Lorraine. Most generous
I may well call him, for he had not his like in his day; his free
expenditure, his many gracious gifts and kindnesses, did all bear
witness thereof, and above all else his charity toward the poor. He
would regularly bear with him a great game-bag, the which his valet
of the bed-chamber, who did govern his petty cash, never failed to
replenish, every morning, with three or four hundred crowns. And as
many poor folk as he met, he would plunge his hand in the game-bag,
and whatsoever he drew out therefrom, without a moment’s thought, he
gave away, and without any picking or choosing. ’Twas of him a poor
blind man, as the Cardinal was passing in the streets of Rome and was
asked for an alms, and so did throw him according to wont a great
handful of gold, said thus, crying out aloud in the Italian tongue: _O
tu sei Christo, o veramente el cardinal di Lorrena_,—“Either you are
Christ, or the Cardinal de Lorraine.” Moreover if he was generous and
charitable in this way, he was no less liberal toward other folks as
well, and chiefly where fair ladies were concerned, whom he did easily
attach to him by this regale. For money was not so greatly abundant
in those days as it hath nowadays become, and for this cause women
were more eager after the same, and every sort of merry living and gay
attire.
I have heard it said that ever on the arrival at Court of any fair
damsel or young wife that was handsome and attractive, he would come
instantly to greet the same, and discoursing with her would presently
offer to undertake the training of her. A pretty trainer for sooth!
I ween the task was not so irksome an one as to train and break some
wild colt. Accordingly ’twas said at that time, was scarce dame or
damsel resident at Court or newly come thither, but was caught and
debauched by dint of her own avariciousness and the largesse of the
aforesaid Cardinal; and few or none have come forth of that Court women
of chastity and virtue. Thus might their chests and big wardrobes be
seen for that time more full of gowns and petticoats, of cloth of gold
and silver and of silk, than be nowadays those of our Queens and great
Princesses of the present time. I know this well, having seen the thing
with mine own eyes in two or three instances,—fair ladies which had
gotten all this gear by their dainty body; for neither father, mother
nor husband could have given them the same in anything like such wealth
and abundance.
Nay! but I should have refrained me, some will say, from stating so
much of the great Cardinal, in view of his honoured cloth and most
reverend and high estate. Well! his King would have it so, and did find
pleasure therein; and pleasure one’s Sovereign, a man is dispensed of
all scruple, whether in making love or other matters, provided always
they be not dishonourable. Accordingly he did make no ado about going
to the wars, and hunting and dancing, taking part in mascarades, and
the like sports and pastimes. Moreover he was a man of like flesh
and blood with other folk, and did possess many great merits and
perfections of his own, enough surely to outweigh and cloak this small
fault,—if fault it is to be called, to love fair ladies!
I have heard the following tale told of him in connection with the
proper respect due to ladies. He was naturally most courteous toward
them; yet did he once forget his usual practice, and not without
reason enough, with the Duchess of Savoy, Donna Beatrix of Portugal.
Travelling on one occasion through Piedmont, on his way to Rome on his
Royal master’s service, he did visit the Duke and Duchess. After having
conversed a sufficient while with the Duke, he went to find the noble
Duchess in her chamber for to pay his respects to her; arrived there
and on his coming forward toward her, her Grace, who was haughtiness
itself, if ever was such in the world, did offer him her hand to kiss.
The Cardinal, loath to put up with this affront, did press forward to
kiss her on the mouth, while she did draw back all she could. Then
losing all patience and crowding up yet nearer to her, he takes her
fairly by the head, and in spite of her struggles did kiss her two or
three times over. And albeit she did protest sore with many cries and
exclamations both in Portuguese and Spanish, yet had she to endure this
treatment. “What!” the Cardinal cried out; “is it to me this sort of
state and ceremony is to be used? I do kiss right enough the Queen of
France my Mistress, which is the greatest Queen in all the world, and
I am not to kiss you, a dirty little slip of a duchess! I would have
you to know I have bedded with ladies as fair as you, and as good to
boot, and of better birth than ever you be.” And mayhap he spoke but
the truth. Anyway the Princess was ill-advised to make this show of
haughtiness toward a Prince of so high an house, and above all towards
a Cardinal; for there is never one of this exalted rank in the Church,
but doth liken himself with the greatest Princes of Christendom. The
Cardinal too was in the wrong to take so harsh reprisals; but ’tis ever
very irksome to a noble and generous spirit, of whatever estate and
calling, to put up with an affront.
Another of the same rank, the Cardinal de Granvelle, did likewise well
know how to make the Comte d’Egmont feel his displeasure on the same
account, and others too whose names be at the tip of my pen, but whom
I will pass over for fear of confusing my subject overmuch, though I
may return again to them later. I do now confine myself to our late
King Henri le Grand, which monarch was exceeding respectful to the
ladies, whom he was used to treat with all reverence, and did alway
hate gainsayers of their honour. And when so great King doth so serve
fair ladies, a monarch of such puissance and repute, very loath for
sure be all men of his Court to open mouth for to speak ill of the
same. Beside, the Queen mother did exert a strong hand to guard her
ladies and damsels, and make calumniators and satirists feel the weight
of her resentment, when once they were found out, seeing how she had
been as little spared by such as any of her ladies. Yet ’twas never
herself she did take heed for so much as others, seeing, she was used
to declare, how she did know her soul and conscience pure and void of
offence, and could afford to laugh at these foul-mouthed writers and
scandal-mongers. “Why! let them say their worst,” she would say, “and
have their trouble for nothing”; yet whenever she did catch them at it,
she knew how to make them smart soundly.
It befell the elder Mlle. de Limeuil, at her first coming to Court,
to compose a satire or lampoon (for she had the gift of witty speech
and writing) on the Court generally, not however so much scandalous in
its matter as diverting in form. Be assured the King’s mother did make
her pay for this well and feel the whip smartly, as well as two of her
comrades which were in the secret to her majesty, through the house
of Turenne, which is allied to that of Boulogne, she would have been
chastised with every ignominy, and this by express order of the King,
who had the most particular and curious dislike of such writings.
I do remember me of an incident connected with the Sieur de Matha,[63*]
a brave and gallant gentleman much loved of the King, and a kinsman
of Madame de Valentinois, which did ever have some diverting quarrel
and complaint against the damsels and dames of the Court, of so merry
a complexion was he. One day having attacked one of the Queen’s maids
of honour, another, known by the name of “big Méray,” was for taking
up the cudgels for her companion. The only reply Matha did vouchsafe
her was this: “Go to! I’m not attacking you, Méray; you’re a great
war-horse, and should be barded!”[64] For insooth she was the very
biggest woman, maid or wife, I have ever seen. She did make complaint
of the speech to the Queen, saying the other had called her a mare and
a great war-horse to be barded. The Queen was so sore angered that
Matha had to quit the Court for some days, spite of all the favour he
had with his kinswoman Madame de Valentinois; and for a month after his
return durst not set foot in the apartment of the Queen and her maids
of honour.
The Sieur de Gersay did a much worse thing toward one of the Queen’s
maids of honour, to whom he was ill-disposed, for to avenge him upon
her, albeit he was never at a loss for ready words; for indeed he
was as good as most at saying a witty thing or telling a good story,
and above all when spreading a scandal, of which art and mystery he
was a past master; only scandal-mongering was at that time strongly
forbidden. One day when he was present at the after dinner assembly
of the Queen along with the other ladies and gentlemen of her Court,
the custom then being that the company should not sit except on the
floor when the Queen was present, de Gersay having taken from the pages
and lackeys a ram’s pizzle they were playing with in the Office Court
of the Palace, sitting down beside her he did slip the same into the
girl’s frock, and this so softly as that she did never notice it,—that
is not until the Queen did proceed to rise from her chair to retire
to her private apartment. The girl, whose name I had better not give,
did straight spring up, and as she rose to her feet, right in front
of the Queen, doth give so lusty a push to the strange plaything she
had about her, as that it did make six or seven good bounces along
the floor, for all the world as though it were fain of its own accord
to give the company a free exhibition and some gratuitous sport. Who
more astonished than the poor girl,—and the Queen to boot, for ’twas
well in front of her with naught to prevent her view? “Mother of God!”
cried the Queen, “and what is that, my child; what would you be at with
that thing?” The unhappy maid of honour, blushing and half fainting
with confusion, began to cry out she knew not what it was, that some
one who did wish her ill had played this horrid trick on her, and how
she thought ’twas none other but de Gersay which had done it. The
latter waiting only to see the beginning of the sport and the first
few bounces, was through the door by now. They sent to call him back,
but he would never come, perceiving the Queen to be so very wroth, yet
stoutly denying the whole thing all the while. So he was constrained
for some days to fly her resentment, and the King’s too; and indeed
had he not been, along with Fontaine-Guérin,[65*] one of the Dauphin’s
prime favourites, he would assuredly have been in sore straits, albeit
naught could ever be proven against him except by guess-work, and
notwithstanding the fact that the King and his courtiers and not a few
ladies could not refrain them from laughing at the incident, though
they durst not show their amusement in view of the Queen’s displeasure.
For was never a lady in all the world knew better than she how to
startle folk with a sudden and sore rebuke.
A certain honourable gentleman of the Court and a maid of honour did
one time, from the good affection they erst had with one another, fall
into hate and sore quarrel; this went so far that one day the young
lady said loud out to him in the Queen’s apartment, the twain being
in talk as to their difference: “Leave me alone, Sir, else I will
tell what you told me.” The gentleman, who had informed her in strict
confidence of something about a very great lady, and fearing ill would
befall him from it, and at the least he would be banished the Court,
without more ado did answer back,—for he was ready enough of speech:
“If you do tell what I have told you, I will tell what I have done to
you.” Who more astonished than the lady at this? yet did she contrive
to reply: “Why! what have you done to me?” The other did reply: “Why!
what have I told you?” Thereupon doth the lady make answer: “Oh! I know
very well what you told me.” To which the other: “Oh! and I know very
well what I did to you.” The lady doth retort, “But I’ll prove quite
clearly what you told me;” and the other: “And I’ll prove clearer still
what I did to you.” At long last, after sticking a long while at this
counterchange of reply and retort in identical form and almost the same
words, they were parted by the gentlemen and ladies there present,
albeit these got much diversion from the dispute.
This disputation having come to the Queen’s ears, the latter was in
great wrath thereanent, and was fain at once to know the words of the
one and the deeds of the other, and did send to summon them. But the
pair of them, seeing ’twas to be made a serious matter, did consult
and straight agree together to say, whenas they did appear before the
Queen, how that ’twas merely a game their so disputing with each other,
and that neither had she been told aught by the gentleman, nor yet
had he done aught to her. So did they balk the Queen, which did none
the less chide and sore blame the courtier, on the ground that his
words were over free and like to make scandal. The man sware to me
twenty times over that, and if they had not so made it up and agreed
in a tale, and the lady had actually revealed the secret he had told
her, which might well have turned to his great injury, he would have
resolutely maintained he had done his will on her, challenging them
to examine her, and if she should not be found virgin, that ’twas
himself had deflowered her. “Well and good!” I answered, “but an if
they had examined her and found her a maid, for she was quite young and
unmarried, you would have been undone, and ’twould have gone hard but
you had lost your life.”—“Body of me!” he did return, “that’s just what
I should have liked the best, that they should have examined the jade.
I was well assured of my tale, for I knew quite well who had deflowered
her, and that another man had been there right enough, though not
I,—to my much regret. So being found already touched and soiled, she
had been undone, and I avenged, and her good name ruined to boot. I
should have got off with marrying her, and afterward ridding me of her,
as I could.” And these be the risks poor maids and wives have to run,
whether they be in the right o’t or the wrong!
3.
I did one time know a lady of very high rank which did actually find
herself pregnant by the act of a very brave and gallant Prince;[66]
’twas said however the thing was done under promise of marriage,
though later the contrary was ascertained to be the case. King Henri
was the first to learn the facts, and was sore vexed thereat, for she
was remotely connected with his Majesty. Any way, without making any
further noise or scandal about the matter, he did the same evening at
the Royal ball, chose her as his partner and lead her out to dance the
torch-dance[66] with him; and afterward did make her dance with another
the _galliard_ and the rest of the “brawls,” wherein she did display
her readiness and dexterity better than ever, while her figure had all
its old grace and was so well arranged for the occasion as that she
gave no sign of her bigness. The end was that the King, who had kept
his eyes fixed on her very strictly all the time, did perceive naught,
no more than if she had not been with child at all, and did presently
observe to a great nobleman, one of his chief familiars: “The folk
were most ill-advised and spiteful to have gone about to invent the
tale that yonder poor girl was big with child; never have I seen her
in better grace. The spiteful authors of the calumny have told a most
wicked falsehood.” Thus this good King did shield the noble lady and
poor girl, and did repeat the same thing to his Queen whenas he was to
bed with her that night. But the latter, mistrusting the thing, did
have her examined the next morning, herself being present, and she was
found to be six months gone in pregnancy; after she did confess and
avow the whole truth to the Queen, saying ’twas done under pretence of
marriage to follow. Natheless the King, who was all good nature, had
the secret kept as close as ever possible, so as not to bring shame and
scandal on the damsel, though the Queen for her part was very wrathful.
Any way, they did send her off very quietly to the home of her nearest
kinsfolk, where she was presently brought to bed of a fine boy. Yet was
the lad so unfortunate that he could never get him recognized by his
putative father; the trial of the case did drag out to great length,
but the mother could never get aught decided in her favour.
Now good King Henri did love merry tales as well as any of his
predecessors, but he would never have scandal brought on ladies therein
nor their secrets divulged. In fact, the King himself, who was of
amorous complexion enough, when he was away to visit the ladies, would
ever go thither stealthily and under cover all ever he could, to the
end they might be free of suspicion and ill-repute. But an if there was
any that was discovered, ’twas never by his fault or with his consent,
but rather by the fair dame’s doing. So have I heard of one lady of the
sort, of a good house, named Madame Flamin,[67*] a Scotswoman, which
being gotten with child by the King, did make no sort of secret of it,
but would say it out boldly in her French Scotch thus: “I hae dune what
I could, sae that the noo, God be thankit, I am wi’ bairn by the King,
whilk doth mak me an honoured and unco happy woman. And I maun say the
blude Royal hath in it something of a more douce and tasty humour than
the ordinar, I do find myself in sic gude case,—no to speak of the fine
bits o’ presents forthcoming.”
Her son,[68*] that she had presently, was the late Grand Prior of
France, who was killed lately at Marseilles,—a sore pity, for he was
a very honourable, brave and gallant nobleman, and did show the same
clearly at his death. Moreover he was a man of property and sense, and
the least tyrannical Governor of a District of his own day or since.
Provence could tell us that, and beside that he was a right magnificent
Seigneur and of a generous expenditure. He was indeed a man of means,
good sense and wise moderation.
The said lady, with others I have heard of, held the opinion that to
lie with one’s Sovereign was no disgrace; those be harlots indeed which
do abandon their bodies to petty folk, but not where great Kings and
gallant gentlemen be in question. Like that Queen of the Amazons I have
named above, which came a journey of three hundred leagues for to be
gotten with child by Alexander the Great, to have good issue therefrom.
Yet there be those who say one man is as good as another for this!