that spiteful folks had no time even to begin speaking ill of ladies.
Not that we are to believe, if he had enjoyed a long reign, that he
would have suffered aught of the kind at his Court; for he was a
monarch naturally good-natured, frank, and not one to take pleasure
in scandal, as well as being most respectful toward ladies and very
ready to pay them all honour. Beside he had the Queen his wife and the
Queen his mother, and his good uncles to boot, all of which were much
for checking these chatterers and loose-tongued gentry. I remember me
how once, the King being at Saint-Germain en Laye, about the month of
August or September, the fancy took him one evening to go see the
stags in their rut in that noble forest of Saint-Germain, and he did
take with him certain princes, his chief familiars, and some great
ladies, both wives and maids, whose names I could very well give, an if
I chose. Nor was there lacking one fain to make a talk of it, and say
this did not smack of his womankind being exactly virtuous or chaste,
to be going to see these lovemakings and wanton ruttings of beasts,
seeing how the appetite of Venus must heat them more and more at sight
of such doings. In fact, so sore will they be longing to taste, that
sure the water or saliva will be coming to their mouth, in such wise
that no other remedy will there be thereafter for to get rid of the
same except only by some other discharge of saliva, or something else.
The King heard of this speech, and the noblemen and ladies which had
accompanied him thither. Be well assured, an if the gentleman had not
straightway decamped, he had fared very ill; nor did he ever again
appear at Court till after that King’s death and the end of his reign.
Many scandalous pamphlets there were put forth against them which
were then in direction of the Government of the Kingdom; but there
was never an one that did so hurt and offend as a satire entitled
_The Tiger_[69]—modelled on the first invective of Cicero against
Catiline,—especially as it spake freely of the amours of a very great
and fair lady, and a great nobleman, her kinsman. An if the gallant
author had been caught, though he had had an hundred thousand lives,
he had surely lost them every one; for the two great folks, lady and
gentleman, were so exceeding vexed and angered as that they did all but
die of despair.
This King Francis II. was not subject to love like his predecessors;
and truly he would have been greatly to blame, seeing he had to wife
the fairest woman in all the world and the most amiable. And when a man
hath such a wife, he doth not go seeking fortune elsewhere as others
use, else is he a wretch indeed. And not so going, little recks he to
speak ill of ladies, or indeed to speak well either, or to speak at all
about them, except always of his own good lady at home. ’Tis a doctrine
I have heard a very honourable personage maintain: natheless have I
known it prove false more than once.
King Charles came next to the throne, which by reason of the tenderness
of his years, did pay no heed at the beginning of his reign to the
ladies, but did rather give his thoughts to spending his time in
youthful sports and exercises. Yet did the late deceased M. de Sipierre
his Governour and Tutor,[70*] a man who was in my opinion and in that
of every one else, the most honourable and most courteous gentleman of
his time, and the most gentle and respectful toward women, did so well
teach the same lesson to the King his master and pupil, as that he was
as ready to honour ladies as any of the kings his predecessors. For
never, whether as boy or man, did he see a woman, no matter how busied
he was in other matters, whether he was hurrying on or standing still,
on foot or on horse-back, but he would straight salute the same and
most respectfully doff his cap. Whenas he came to an age for love, he
did serve several very honourable dames and damsels I have known of,
but all this with so great honour and respect as that he might have
been the humblest gentleman of the Court.
In his reign the great lampoonists did first begin their vogue, and
amongst them even some very gallant gentlemen of the Court, whose
names I will not give, did strangely abuse the ladies, both in general
and in particular, and even some of the greatest in the land. For
this some of them have found themselves entangled in downright fierce
quarrels, and have come off second best,—not indeed that they did avow
the truth, for they did rather always deny they had aught to do with
it. If they had confessed, they had had heavy payment to make, and the
King would certainly have let them feel the weight of his displeasure,
inasmuch as they did attack ladies of over high a rank. Others did
show the best face they could, and did suffer the lie to be cast in
their teeth a thousand times over, conditionally as we may say and
vaguely, and had to swallow a thousand affronts, drinking the same in
as sweetly as though they had been milk, without daring to retort one
word, else had their lives been at risk. ’Tis a thing which hath oft
given me great surprise that suchlike folks should set them to speak
ill of their neighbours, yet suffer others to speak ill of themselves
so sorely and to their very face. Yet had these men the repute of being
gallant swordsmen; but in this matter they would aye endure all but the
extremest insult bravely and without one word of protest.
I do remember me of a lampoon which was made against a very great lady,
a widow, fair and of most honourable birth, which did desire to marry
again with a very great Prince, a young and handsome man.[71] There
were certain persons, (and I have accurate knowledge of the same), who
disliking this marriage, and to dissuade the Prince therefrom, did
concoct a lampoon on her, the most scandalous I have ever seen, in the
which they did compare her to five or six of the chiefest harlots of
Antiquity, and the most notorious and wanton, declaring how that she
did overtop them each and all. The actual authors of the said satire
did present it to the Prince, professing however that it did emanate
from others, and that themselves had merely been given it. The Prince,
having looked at it, gave the lie to its statements and hurled a
thousand vague and general insults at them which had writ it; yet did
they pass all over in silence, brave and valiant men though they were.
The incident however did give the Prince pause a while, seeing the
lampoon did contain several definite revelations and point direct at
some unpleasant facts; natheless after the lapse of two years more was
the marriage accomplished.
The King was so great-hearted and kindly that he was never inclined
to favour folks of this kidney. To pass a spicy word or two with them
aside, this he did like well enough; but he was always most unwilling
the common herd should be fed on such diet, declaring that his Court,
which was the best ennobled and most illustrious by reason of great
and noble ladies of any in all the world, should never, such being its
high repute, be cheapened and foully aspersed by the mouth of suchlike
reckless and insolent babblers. ’Twas well enough to speak so of the
courtesans of Rome, or Venice, or other the like places, but not of
the Court of France; it might be permitted to do the thing, it was not
permitted to speak thereof.
Thus do we see how this Sovereign was ever respectful toward ladies,
nay! so much so that in his later days when some I know of were fain to
give him an evil impression of certain very great, as well as most fair
and honourable dames, for that these had intermeddled in some highly
important matters of his concern, yet would he never credit aught
against them; but did accord them as good favour as ever, dying at the
last in their very good graces and with many a tear of their shedding
to wet his corpse. And they did find good cause to say so too, so soon
as ever King Henri III. came to succeed him, who by reason of sundry
ill reports he had been told of these ladies when in Poland, did not
make near so much of them as he had done aforetime. Both over these
and over some others that I know of, he did exercise a very strict
censorship, and one we may be sure that made him not more liked; and
indeed I do believe they did him no little hurt, and contributed in
part to his evil fortune and final ruin. I could allege sundry special
facts in proof hereof, but I had rather pass them over,—saying only
this much, that women generally are keen set on taking vengeance. It
may be long in coming, but they do execute it at the last.[72*] On the
contrary many men’s revenge is just the opposite in its nature, for
ardent and hot enough at its first beginning to deceive all, yet by
dint of temporising and putting off and long delays it doth grow cool
and come to naught. And this is why ’tis meet to guard against the
first attempt, and take time by the forelock in parrying the blows; but
with women the first fury and attempt, and the temporising and delay,
do both last out to the end,—that is in some women, though hardly many.
Some have been for excusing the King for the war he made on women in
the way of crying them down, by saying ’twas in order to curb and
correct vice,—as if the curb were of any of the slightest use in these
cases, seeing woman is so conditioned of nature as that the more this
thing is forbid her, the more ardent is she after the same, and to set
a watch on her is just labour lost. So in actual fact myself have seen
how, for all he could do, they were never turned out of their natural
road.
Several ladies that I wot well enough, did he love and serve with all
due respect and very high honour,—and even a certain very great and
fair Princess,[73] of whom he had fallen so deep in love before his
going into Poland, that after he became King, he did resolve to wed the
same, although she was already married to a great and gallant Prince,
but one that was in rebellion against him and had fled to a foreign
land to gather an army and make war upon him. But at the moment of his
return to France, the lady died in child-birth. Her death alone did
hinder the marriage, for he was firm set thereon. He would certainly
have married her by favour and dispensation of the Pope, who would not
have refused him his consent, being so great a Monarch as he was, and
for sundry other reasons that may be readily imagined.
Others again he did make love to only for to bring the same into
disparagement. Of such I wot of one, a great lady, in whose case, for
the displeasures her husband had wrought him, and not able otherwise
to get at him, the King did take his revenge on his wife, whom he did
after publish abroad for what she was in the presence of a number of
folk. Yet was this vengeance mild and merciful after all, for in lieu
of death he did give her life.
Another I wot of, which for overmuch playing the wanton, as also for a
displeasure she did the King, the latter did of set purpose pay court
to. Anon without any vast deal of persuasion, she did grant him an
assignation in a garden, the which he failed not to keep. But he would
have naught else to do with her (so some folk say, but be sure he did
find something to do with her right enough) but only to have her so
seen offering herself in open market, and then to banish her from the
Court with ignominy.
He was anxious and exceeding inquisitive to know the life of all and
every fair lady of his Court, and to penetrate their secret wishes.
’Tis said he did sometimes reveal one or other of his successes with
women to sundry of his most privy intimates. Happy they! for sure the
leavings of suchlike great monarchs must needs be very tasty morsels.
The ladies did fear him greatly, as I have myself seen. He would either
reprimand them personally, when needful, or else beg the Queen his
mother so to do, who on her part was ready enough at the work. ’Twas
not however that she did favour scandal-mongers, as I have shown above
in the little examples I have there given. And paying such heed as she
did to these and showing so great displeasure against them, what was
she not bound to do others which did actually compromise the good name
and honour of her ladies?
This monarch again was so well accustomed from his earliest years,
as myself have seen, to hear tales of ladies and their gallantries
(and truly myself have told him one or two such), and to repeat them
too,—yet alway in secret, for fear the Queen his mother should learn
thereof, for she would never have him tell such stories to any others
than herself, that she might check the same,—so well accustomed was
he to all this, that coming to riper years and full liberty, he did
never lose the habit. And in this wise he did know how they did all
live at his Court and in his Kingdom,—or at the least many of them, and
especially the great ladies of rank, as well as if he had frequented
them every one. And if any there were which were new come to Court,
accosting these most courteously and respectfully, yet would he tell
them over such tales as that they would be utterly amazed at heart to
know where he had gotten all his information, though all the while
denying and protesting against the whole budget to his face. And if he
did divert himself after this fashion, yet did he not fail, in other
and more weighty matters, to apply his visit to such high purpose as
that folk have counted him the greatest King which for an hundred years
hath been in France, as I have writ elsewhere in a chapter composed
expressly upon this Sovereign.[74]
Accordingly I do now say no more about him, albeit it may be objected
to me that I have been but chary of examples of his character on this
point, and that I should say more, an if I be so well informed. Yea!
truly, I do know tales enough, and some of them high-spiced; but I
wish not to be a mere chronicler of news whether of the Court or of
the world at large. Beside, I could never cloak and cover up these my
tales so featly but that folk would see through them, and scandal come
therefrom.
Now these traducers of fair ladies be of divers sorts. Some do speak
ill of women for some displeasure these have done them, though all the
while they be as chaste as any in all the world, and instead of the
pure and beauteous angel they really resemble do make out a picture
of a devil all foul and ugly with wickedness. Thus an honourable
gentleman I have both seen and known, did most abominably defame a very
honourable and virtuous lady for a slight affront she had put upon him,
and did sorely wreak his displeasure on her. He would say thus: “I know
quite well I am in the wrong, and do not deny the lady to be really
most chaste and virtuous. But be it who it may, the woman which shall
have affronted me in the smallest degree, though she were as chaste and
pure as the Blessed Virgin herself, seeing I can in no other way bring
her to book, as I would with a man, I will say every evil gallows thing
I can think of concerning her.” Yet surely God will be angered at such
a wretch.
Other traducers there be, which loving ladies and failing to overcome
their virtue and get aught out of them, do of sheer despite proclaim
them public wantons. Nay! they will do yet worse, saying openly they
have had their will of them, but having known them and found them too
exceeding lustful, have for this cause left them. Myself have known
many gentlemen of this complexion at our French Kings’ Courts. Then
again there is the case of women quitting right out their pretty lovers
and bed favourites, but who presently, following the dictates of their
fickleness and inconstancy, grow sick again and enamoured of others in
their stead; whereupon these same lovers, in despite and despair, do
malign and traduce these poor women, there is no saying how bitterly,
going so far even as to relate detail by detail their naughtinesses and
wanton tricks which they have practised together, and to make known
their blemishes which they have on their naked bodies, to win the
better credence to their tale.
Other men there be which, in despite because ladies do give to others
what they refuse to them, do malign them with might and main, and have
them watched and spied upon and observed, to the end they may afford
the world the greater signs and proofs of their true speaking.
Others again there be, which, fairly stung with jealousy, without other
cause than this, do speak ill of those men whom women love the most,
and of the very women whom they themselves love fondly until they see
their faults fully revealed. And this is one of the chiefest effects of
jealousy. Yet are such traducers not so sore to blame as one would at
first say they were; for this their fault must be set down to love and
jealousy; twin brother and sister of one and the same birth.
Other traducers there be which are so born and bred to backbiting, as
that rather than not backbite some one or other, they will speak ill
of their own selves. Now, think you ’tis likely ladies’ honour will
be spared in the mouth of folks of this kidney? Many suchlike have
I seen at the Courts of our Kings, which being afeared to speak of
men by reason of their sword play, would raise up scandal around the
petticoats of poor weak women, which have no other means of reprisal
but tears, regrets and empty words. Yet have I known not a few which
have come off very ill at this game; for there have been kinsmen,
brothers, friends, lovers of theirs, even husbands, which have made
many repent of their spite, and eat and swallow down their foul words.
Finally, did I but tell of all the diverse sorts of detractors of
ladies, I should never have done.
An opinion I have heard many maintain as to love is this: that a
love kept secret is good for naught, an if it be not in some degrees
manifest,—if not to all, at the least to a man’s most privy friends.
But an if it cannot be told to all, yet at the least must some show be
made thereof, whether by display of favours, wearing of fair ladies’
liveries and colours, or acts of knightly prowess, as tiltings at the
ring, tourneys, mascarades, fights in the lists, even to fights in good
earnest when at the wars. Verily the content of a man is great at
these satisfactions.
For to tell truth, what would it advantage a great Captain to have done
a fine and signal exploit of war, if not a word were said and naught
known thereof? I ween ’twould be a mortal vexation to him. The like
would rightly seem to be the case with lovers which do love nobly,—as
some at any rate maintain. And of this opinion was that prince of
lovers, M. de Nemours, the paragon of all knighthood; for truly if ever
Prince, great Lord or simple gentleman, hath been fortunate in love,
’twas he. He found no pleasure in hiding his successes from his most
privy friends, albeit from the general he did keep the same so secret,
as that only with much difficulty could folk form a judgment thereanent.
In good sooth, for married ladies is the revealing of such matters
highly dangerous. On the other hand for maids and widows, which are to
marry, ’tis of no account; for that the cloak and pretext of a future
marriage doth cover up all sins.
I once knew a very honourable gentleman at Court,[75*] which being
lover of a very great lady, and finding himself one day in company
of a number of his comrades in discourse as to their mistresses, and
agreeing together to reveal the favours received of them to each other,
the said gentleman did all through refuse to declare his mistress,
and did even feign quite another lady to be his dear, and so threw
dust in their eyes,—and this although there was present in the group a
great Prince, which did conjure him to tell the truth, having yet some
suspicion of the secret intrigue he was engaged in. But neither he nor
his companions could draw anything more out of him, although in his
inmost heart he did curse his fate an hundred times over, which had so
constrained him not to reveal, like the rest of them, his success and
triumph, ever more sweet to tell of than defeat.
Another I once knew, and a right gallant gentleman, by reason of his
presumption and overmuch freedom of speech in proclaiming of his
mistress’ name, the which he should have held sacred, as much by signs
and tokens as by actual words, did come parlous near his death in a
murderous attack he but barely escaped from. Yet afterward on another
count he did not so escape the assassins’ swords, but did presently die
of the hurt they gave him.
Myself was at Court in the time of King Francis II. when the Comte
de Saint-Aignan did wed at Fontainebleau with young Madame la
Bourdaisière.[76] Next day, the bridegroom having come into the
King’s apartment, each and all of the courtiers present did begin
to vent their japes on him. Amongst others a certain great Lord and
very gallant soldier did ask him how many stages he had made. The
husband replied five. As it fell out, there was also there present an
honourable gentleman, a Secretary, which was then in the very highest
favour with a very great Princess, whose name I will not give, who
hereupon declared,—’twas nothing much, considering the fair road he
had travelled and the fine weather he had, for it was summer-time. The
great Lord then said to him, “Ho! my fine fellow, you’ld be for having
birds enough to your bag, it seems!”—“And prithee, why not?” retorted
the Secretary. “By God! why! I have taken a round dozen in four and
twenty hours on the most fairest meadow is in all this neighbourhood,
or can be anywhere in all France.” Who more astounded than the said
Lord, who did learn by these words a thing he had longwhile suspected?
And seeing that himself was deep in love with this same Princess, he
was exceeding mortified to think how he had so long hunted in this
quarter without ever getting aught, whereas the other had been so
lucky in his sport. This the Lord did dissimulate for the moment; but
later, after long brooding over his resentment, he had paid him back
hot and strong in his own coin but for a certain consideration that I
prefer not to mention. Yet did he ever after bear him a secret grudge.
Indeed, an if the Secretary had been really well advised, he would
never have so boasted of his bag, but would rather have kept the thing
very secret, especially in so high and brilliant an adventure, whereof
trouble and scandal were exceeding like to arise.
What should we say of a certain gentleman of the great world, which for
some displeasure his mistress had done him, was so insolent as that he
went and showed her husband the lady’s portrait, which she had given
him, and which he carried hung at his neck. The husband did exhibit
no small astonishment, and thereafter showed him less loving toward
his wife, who yet did contrive to gloze over the matter as well as she
could.
Still more to blame was a great Lord I wot of, who disgusted at some
trick his mistress had played on him, did stake her portrait at dice
and lose it to one of his soldiers, for he was in command of a large
company of infantry. Hearing thereof, the lady came nigh bursting with
vexation, and was exceeding angered. The Queen Mother did presently
hear of it, and did reprimand him for what he had done, on the ground
that the scorn put on her was far too extreme, so to go and abandon to
the chance of the dice the portrait of a fair and honourable lady.
But the Lord did soon set the matter in a better light, declaring how
that in his hazard, he had kept back the parchment inside, and had
staked only the box encasing the same, which was of gold and enriched
with precious stones. Myself have many a time heard the tale discussed
between the lady and the said Lord in right merry wise, and have whiles
laughed my fill thereat.
Hereanent will I say one thing: to wit, that there be ladies,—and
myself have known sundry such,—which in their loves do prefer to be
defied, threatened, and eke bullied; and a man will in this fashion
have his way with them better far than by gentle dealings and
complacencies. Just as with fortresses, some be taken by sheer force of
arms, others by gentler means. Yet will no women endure to be reviled
and cried out upon as whores; for such words be more offensive to them
than the things they do represent.
Sulla would never forgive the city of Athens, nor refrain from the
utter overthrow of the same root and branch, not by reason of the
obstinacy of its defence against him, but solely because from the top
of the walls thereof the citizens had foully abused his wife Metella
and touched her honour to the quick.[77*]
In certain quarters, the which I will not name, the soldiery in
skirmishes and sieges of fortified places were used, the one side
against the other, to cast reproach upon the virtue of two of their
sovereign Princesses, going so far as to cry forth one to the other:
“Your Princess doth play ninepins fine and well!”—“And yours is
downright good at a main too!” By dint of these aspersions and bywords
were the said Princesses cause of rousing them to do havoc and commit
cruelties more than any other reason whatever, as I have myself seen.
I have heard it related how that the chiefest motive which did most
animate the Queen of Hungary[78*] to light up those her fierce fires of
rage about Picardy and other regions of France was to revenge sundry
insolent and foul-mouthed gossips, which were forever telling of her
amours, and singing aloud through all the countryside the refrain:
Au, au Barbanson,
Et la reine d’Ongrie,
—a coarse song at best, and in its loud-voiced ribaldry smacking strong
of vagabond and rustic wit.
4.
Cato could never stomach Cæsar from that day when in the Senate, which
was deliberating as to measures against Catiline and his conspiracy,
Cæsar being much suspected of being privy to the plot, there was
brought in to the latter under the rose a little packet, or more
properly speaking a _billet doux_, the which Servilia, Cato’s sister,
did send for to fix an assignation and meeting place. Cato now no
more doubting of the complicity of Cæsar with Catiline, did cry out
loud that the Senate should order him to show the communication in
question. Thus constrained, Cæsar made the said letter public, wherein
the honour of the other’s sister was brought into sore scandal and open
disrepute. I leave you then to imagine if Cato, for all the fine airs
he did affect of hating Cæsar for the Republic’s sake, could ever come
to like him, in view of this most compromising incident. Yet was it no
fault of Cæsar’s, for he was bound to show the letter, and that on risk
of his life. And I ween Servilia bare him no special ill-will for this;
for in fact and deed they ceased not to carry on still their loving
intercourse, whereof sprang Brutus, whose father Cæsar was commonly
reputed to have been. If so, he did but ill requite his parent for
having given him being.