contrived to afford herself much pleasure in her life so far, and whom
her family now spake of marrying in Spain. One of her most special and
privy friends said one day to her, by way of jest, how surprised he was
to find that she, which had so dearly loved the _rising_ quarter, was
now about to travel toward the setting or western, because Spain lies
to the westward. To this the lady made answer, “Truly, I have heard
mariners say, men that have travelled far, how that the navigation of
the rising quarter is right pleasant and agreeable; and indeed myself
have steered many a time thither by the compass I do alway carry on
me. So I will take advantage of this same instrument, when I am
in the land of the setting sun, yet to hie away me straight to the
rising.” Judicious commentators will find it easy enough to interpret
the allegory and make a shrewd guess at what I point to. I leave you
to judge by these words whether the damsel had invariably limited her
reading to the “hours” of Our Lady, and none other.
Another damsel I have heard of, and could give her name, who hearing
of the wonders of the city of Venice, its singular beauties and
the liberties there enjoyed of all, and especially of harlots and
courtesans, did exclaim to one of her bosom friends, “I would to God
we had despatched thither all our wealth by letter of credit, and were
there arrived ourselves for to lead the gay and happy existence of
its courtesans, a life none other can come near, even though we were
Empresses of all the whole world!” Truly a good wish and an excellent!
And in very deed I opine they that be fain of such a life could hardly
dwell in a better spot.
No less do I admire another wish, expressed by a lady of former days.
She was questioning a poor slave escaped from the Turks as to the
tortures and sufferings these did inflict on him and other unhappy
Christian captives, who did tell her enough and to spare of cruelties
so inflicted of every sort and kind. Presently she did ask him what
they did to women. “Alas and alas! Madam,” said he, “they do it to
them, and go on doing it, till they die.”—“Well! I would to God,” she
cried, “I might die so, a martyr to the faith.”
Three great Ladies, of whom one was a maid, being together one day, as
I am told, did begin telling their wishes. One said, “I would fain have
an apple-tree that should bear every year as many golden apples as
it doth common fruit.” The second, “I would have a meadow that should
yield me jewels and precious stones as many as it doth flowers.” The
third, which was a maid, “And I would choose a dovecote, whereof the
openings should be worth as much to me as such and such a lady’s coop,
such and such a great King’s favourite, whose name I will not speak;
only I should like mine to be visited of more pigeons than is hers.”
These dames were of a different complexion from a certain Spanish lady,
whose life is writ in the History of Spain, and who, one day when
Alfonzo the Great, King of Aragon, made a state entry into Saragossa,
threw herself on her knees before his Majesty to ask justice of him.
The King signifying his willingness to hear her, she did ask to speak
to him in private, and he did grant her this favour. Hereupon she laid
a complaint against her husband, for that he would lie with her two and
thirty times a month, by day no less than a-nights, in such wise that
he gave her never a minute of rest or respite. So the King did send for
the husband and learned of him ’twas true, the man deeming he could not
be in the wrong seeing it was his own wife; then the King’s council
being summoned to deliberate on the matter, his Majesty did issue
decree and ordered that he should touch her but six times,—not without
expressing his much marvel at the exceeding heat and puissance of the
fellow, and the extraordinary coldness and continence of the wife, so
opposite to the natural bent of other women (so saith the story), which
be ever ready to clasp hands and beseech their husbands or other men to
give them enough of it, and do make sore complaint an if these do give
to others what is their share by rights.
Very different from this last was another lady, a young girl of a good
house, who the day after her wedding, recounting over to her companions
her adventures in the night just done, “What!” cried she, “and is that
all? For all I had heard some of you say, and other women, and men
to boot, which do boast them so bold and gallant, and promise such
mountains of wondrous deeds, why! o’ my faith, friends and comrades
mine, the man (meaning her husband), that made himself out so hot a
lover and valiant a wight, and so fine a runner at the ring, did run
but four all counted,—as it were the regular three for the ring and
one for the ladies.” We can but suppose, as she made such complaint of
scanty measure, she would fain have had a round dozen to her share; but
everyone is not like the Spanish gentleman of our last story.
This is how they do make mock of their husbands. So one, who when
just wed on her first marriage night, did play the prude and was for
obstinately resisting her husband. But he did bethink him to declare
that, and if he had to take his big dagger, ’twould be another game
altogether, and she would have something to cry out for; whereat the
child, fearing the big weapon he did threaten her withal, did yield her
instantly to his wishes. But next time, she was no longer afeared, and
not content with the little one, did ask at first go off for the big
one he had threatened her with the night before. To which the husband
replied he had never a big one, and had said so but in jest; so she
must e’en be satisfied with what little provision he had about him.
Then she cried, “Nay! ’tis very ill done, so to make mock of poor,
simple maids!” I wot not whether we should call this damsel simple and
ignorant, and not rather knowing and artful, as having tried the thing
before. I do refer the question to the learned for decision.
Bien plus estait simple une autre fille, laquelle s’estant plaincte à
la justice que un gallant l’ayant prise par force, et lui enquis sur
ce fait, il respondit: “Messieurs, je m’en rapporte à elle s’il est
orai, et si elle i’a pris mon cas et l’a mis de sa main propre dans lie
sien.—Ha! Messieurs, (dit la fille) il est bien orai cela, mais qu’il
ne l’enst fait? Car, amprés qu’il m’ent couchée et trousée, il me mit
sou cas roide et poinctu comme un baston contre la ventre, et m’en
domisit de si grands coups que j’ens peur qu’il me le percast et m’y
fist im trou. Dame! je lui pris ahers et le mis dans le tron qui estoit
tout fait.” Si cette fille estoit simplette, on le contrefaisoit, j
m’en rapporte.[90*]
I will now tell a couple of stories of two married women, of as
great a simplicity as the last,—or, if you prefer it so, of as great
artfulness. The first was a very great lady of mine acquaintance, a
very fine woman and much sought after for this reason. One day a very
great Prince did make offers to her, pressing her right eagerly and
promising her very fine and most advantageous conditions, rank and
riches without end for herself and her husband, so much so that she did
hearken at first and give a willing ear to such seductive temptations.
However she would not right off consent, but in her simplicity as a new
made wife, knowing naught of the wicked world, she did come and reveal
the whole matter to her husband, asking his advice whether she should
do it or no. The husband firing up instantly, cried, “Never, never,
by God! little wife; what are you talking about, what would you be at?
’Tis a foul deed, an irreparable stain on both of us!”—“But, Sir,”
returned the lady, “we shall both be such grand folk, no one will have
a word to say against us.” In a word the husband did refuse absolutely;
but the lady, beginning presently to pluck up a spirit and understand
the world, was loath to lose the chance, and did take her fling with
the said Prince and others beside, quite forgetting her erstwhile
simpleness. I have heard the story told by one which had it of the
Prince in question. The lady too had confided it to him; and he had
chid her, counselling her that in such affairs one should never consult
the husband, who was of necessity a prejudiced party.
Not less simple-minded, or very little, was another young married
dame I have heard of, to whom one day an honourable gentleman did
proffer his love, at the husband’s very elbow, who for the moment
was holding discourse with another lady. The suitor did suddenly put
_son instrument entre les mains. Elle le prit et, le serrant fort
étroitement et se tournant vers son mari, lui dit: “Mon mari, voyez le
beau présent que me fait ce gentilhomme; le recevraije? dites-le-moi.”
Le pauvre gentilhomme, étonné, retire à soi son épervier de si grande
rudesse que, recontrant une pointe de diamant qu’elle avait au doigt,
le lui esserta de telle façon d’un bout à l’autre qu’elle le crut
perdre du tout_, and suffered very great pain and even came in danger
of his life. He rushed frantically from the room, watering all the
place with his gore which flowed in torrents. The husband made no ado
about running after him to utter any recriminations on the matter; all
he did was to burst out a-laughing heartily, at once at the simplicity
of his poor little wife, and because the fellow was so soundly punished.
Well! here is a village story I must needs tell, for ’tis not a bad
one. A village wench, as they were leading her to church on her
wedding-day to the sound of tabor and flute, and with much rustic
ceremony, chancing to catch sight of her girlhood’s lover, did shout
out these words to him, “Farewell, Pierre, farewell! I’ve got....
You’ll never give it me any more. My mother’s married me now,”—blurting
the word right out. Her simplicity was no less admirable than the soft
regret she showed for past days.
One more, as we are on village tales. A pretty young girl took a
load of wood to sell at the market town. Asked how much, she kept
continually raising her price at each offer made her by the dealers.
“You shall have so much,” they cried, “and something else into the
bargain.”—“’Tis well said,” she cried, “and thank you! you’re the very
man.”
Right simple-minded wenches these, and very different, they and their
like, (for there be plenty such), from a whole host of others in this
wicked world, which be far more double-dealing and knowing than these,
never asking counsel of their husbands nor never showing them such
presents as they may get.
I heard an anecdote once in Spain of a young girl who the first night
after her marriage, as her husband was struggling and sweating sore
and hurting himself in his attempts, did set up a laugh and tell him,
_Señor, bien es razon que seays martyr, pues que io soy virgen; mas
pues que io tomo la paciencia, bien la podeys tomar_,—“Sir, ’tis but
right you should be a martyr, since I am a virgin; but as I am so
patient, you must be patient too.” Thus in revenge of his making fun
of his wife, did she make fine fun of him. And in good sooth many a
girl hath good cause to make mock at such a time, especially when they
have learned afore what it all is, or have been informed of others, or
have themselves dreamed and pictured out this mighty moment of delight,
which they do suppose so great and lasting.
Another Spanish bride, telling over next morning her husband’s merits,
found several to praise, “only” she added, “_que no era buen contador
aritmetico, porque no sabia multiplicar_,—that he was not a good
arithmetician at all, for he couldn’t multiply.”
Another young maid of good birth and family (one myself have known
and talked with), on her wedding night, when all the company were
listening outside the door according to custom, and the husband had
just given her the first embrace, and as he did rest a while, though
not yet asleep, asked her if she would like some more of the same, “An
if it please you, Sir!” she said. Imagine the gallant bridegroom’s
astonishment at such an answer, and how he must have rubbed his ears.
Maids which do say such tricky things so readily and so soon after
marriage, may well rouse strange suspicions in their poor husbands’
breasts, and lead them to suppose they be not the first that have
dropped anchor in their bay, nor will be the last so to do. For we
cannot doubt, an if a man do not strive hard and nigh kill himself to
work well his wife, she will soon bethink her of giving him a pair of
pretty horns, or as an old French proverb put it,
Et qui ne la contente pas,
Va ailleurs chercher son repas.
Yet when a woman doth get all ever she can out of a man, she doth knock
him clean over, just doing him to death. ’Tis an old saying: A woman
should not take of a lover all she would have, but must spare him what
she can; not so with an husband, him she should drain to the very
bones. And this is why, as the Spanish saw hath it, _que el primero
pensamiento de la muger, luego que es casada, es de embiudarse_.—“A
married woman’s first thought is to contrive to make herself a widow.”
This saying is not universally true, as I do hope to show in another
place; it doth only apply to some women, and not all.
Some girls there be which, when no longer able to restrain themselves,
be ready to give themselves only to Princes and great Lords, folk
very meet to stir their passion, both by reason of their gracious
condescension and the fine presents they make, as well as for love
of their good looks and pretty ways, for indeed all is fine and
point-device, though they may be silly coxcombs and no more, as myself
have seen some. Other girls again do not seek after such at all, but
do rather avoid them all they can, because they have something of
a repute for being scandal-mongers, great boasters, indiscreet and
garrulous. They do prefer instead simple gentlemen of prudent and
discreet complexion, but alas! the number of such is very small. Happy
she who doth meet with such an one! To avoid all these inconveniences,
girls do choose, (at least some do) their men-servants, some being
handsome men, some not,—and I have myself known ladies which have acted
so. Nor doth it take much urgency to persuade the fellows; for putting
them to bed and getting them up as they do, undressing them, putting
their foot-gear on and off, and even changing their shifts,—and I have
seen many young girls at Court and elsewhere which did make no sort of
difficulty or scruple about all this,—seeing so many pretty sights as
they must, they cannot but feel temptation. And I ween some of their
mistresses do of set purpose let them see their charms freely. The end
can only be that, when the eyes have done their office, other senses be
presently called in to execute theirs.
I knew once a fair damsel of the great world, a beauty if ever there
was one, which did make her man-servant share her with a great Prince,
who kept her as his mistress and supposed he was the only happy
possessor of her favours. But herein the valet marched step by step
with him; and indeed she had made no ill choice, so handsome a man was
he and of so fine a figure; indeed, no difference was to be noted. In
fact the valet did have the advantage of the Prince in many beauties
of person; and the latter knew never a word about the intimacy till he
finally quitted the lady on his marriage. Nor did he for this treat
the man any the worse, but was always glad to see him; and whenever he
caught sight of him in passing, he would merely cry, “Is it possible
now this fellow was my rival? Well, well! I can quite believe it, for
barring my rank, he hath the better of me otherwise.” He bore the same
name as the Prince, and was a most excellent tailor, one of the most
famous at Court. There was hardly a woman there, single or married,
but he did dress them, when they were for exquisite costumes. I cannot
tell whether he was used to dress them in the same fashion he dressed
his mistress, but they were invariably well put on.
I knew once a young girl of a good house, which had a boy lackey of
only fourteen, whom she had made her fool and plaything. Amid their
plays and foolings, she did make no kind of difficulty whatever to let
him kiss her, as privily as it had been only a woman,—and this very
often before company, excusing it all by saying he was her pretty fool
and little playmate. I wot not whether he went further, but I do know
that afterward, as wife and widow, and wife once more, she was ever a
most notable whore. Remember how she did kindle her match at this first
fire, so that she did never after lack flame in any of her later and
greater passions and escapades. I had tarried a good year before I saw
this lady; but when I did behold her at home and with her mother, who
had the repute of being one of the most accomplished of sham prudes of
her day, laughing and making light of the whole thing, I did foresee in
a moment how this little game would lead to a more serious one, and one
played in downright earnest, and that the damsel would one day grow a
very glutton at it, as was afterward the case.
I knew two sisters of a very good old family in Poitou, and both
unmarried, of whom strange tales were told, and particularly with
regard to a tall Basque footman of their father’s. This fellow, under
pretext of his fine dancing, (for he could dance not only his native
_brawls_, but all the other dances as well), would commonly take them
out to dance and teach them the steps and be partner to them. Later he
did teach them the harlot’s reel, and they gat themselves finely talked
about. Still they found no difficulty in getting husbands, for they
were very wealthy folk; and this word wealth covereth up all defects,
so as men will pick up anything, no matter how hot and scalding. I knew
the said Basque afterward as a good soldier and brave man, and one that
showed he had had some training. He was dismissed his place, to avoid
scandal, and became a soldier in the Guard in M. d’Estrozze’s regiment.
I knew likewise another great house, and a noble, the lady mistress
whereof did devote herself to bringing up young maids of birth in her
household, amongst others sundry kinswomen of her husband’s. Now the
lady being very sickly and a slave to doctors and apothecaries, there
was always plenty of these to be found thereabouts. Moreover young
girls be subject to frequent sicknesses, such as pallors, anæmia,
fevers and the like, and it so happened two of them fell ill of a
quartan ague, and were put under the charge of an apothecary to cure
them. And he did dose them well with his usual drugs and medicines;
but the best of all his remedies was this, that he did sleep with one
of them,—the presumptuous villain, for he had to do with as fair and
honourable a maid as any in France, and one a great King had been well
content to enjoy; yet must Master Apothecary have his will of her.
Myself knew the damsel, who did certainly deserve a better lover. She
was married later, and given out for virgin,—and virgin she was found
to be. Herein did she show her cunning to some purpose; for _car,
puisqu’elle ne pouvait tenir son eau, elle s’adressa à celui qui
donnait les antidotes pour engarder d’engrosser, car c’est ce que les
filles craignent le plus: dont en cela il y en a de si experts qui leur
donnent des drogues qui les engardent très bien d’engrosser; ou bien,
si elles engrossent, leur font écouler leur grossesse so subtilement et
si sagement que jamais on ne s’en aperçoit, et n’en sent-on rien que le
vent_.
_Ainsi que j’en ai ouï parler d’une fille, laquelle avait été autrefois
nourrie fille de la feue reine de Navarre Marguerite. Elle vint par
cas fortunt, ou à engrosser sans qu’elle y pensât pourtant. Elle
rencontra un rusé apothicaire, qui, lui ayant donné un breuvage, lui
fit évader son fruit, qui avait déjà six mois, pièce par pièce, morceau
par morceau, si aisément, qu’étant en ses affaires jamais elle n’en
sentit ni mal ni douleur; et puis après se maria galamment, sans que
le mari y connut aucune trace; car on leur donne des remèdes pour se
faire paraître vierges et pucelles comme auparavant, ainsi que j’en
ai allégué un au_ DISCOUPS DES COCUS. _Et un que j’en ouï dire à un
empirique ces jours passés, qu’il faut avoir des sangsues et les
mettre à la nature, et faire par là tirer et sucer le sang: lesquelles
sangsues, en suçant, laisent et engendrent de petites ampoules et
fistules pleines de sang; si bien que le galant mari, qui vient le
soir des noces les assaillir, leur crève ces ampoules d’où le sang
sort, et lui et elle s’ensanglantent, qui est une grande joie à l’un
et à l’autre; et par ainsi,_ l’honor della citella è salva. _Je trouve
ce remède plus souverain que l’autre, s’il est vrai; et s’ils ne sont
bons tous deux, il y en a cent autres qui sont meilleurs, ainsi que
le savent très bien ordonner, inventer et appliquer ces messieurs les
médecins savants et experts apothicaires. Violà pourquoi ces messieurs
ont ordinairement de très belles et bonnes fortunes, car ils savent
blesser et remédier, ainsi qui fit la lance de Pélias._
Myself knew the Apothecary I spake of but now, as to whom I will add
only one word more in passing,—how I saw him at Geneva the first time I
did visit Italy, for at that time the common road for French travellers
thither was by Switzerland and the Grisons, because of the wars then
raging. He came to see me at my lodging. Of a sudden I did ask him what
he was doing in that town, and whether he was there to medicine pretty
girls, the same as he had done in France. He answered me he was there
to repent of such misdoings. “What!” said I, “you have not such dainty
bits to taste here as you had there?”—“Ah! Sir,” he replied, “’tis
because God hath called me, and I am enlightened of his spirit, and I
have now knowledge of his Holy Word.”—“Yes! yes!” I went on, “in those
days too you were a pious Protestant, and did combine medicine for the
body and for the soul, preaching to the girls and giving them some fine
instruction.”—“But, my dear Sir, I do know my God better these days,”
he returned again, “than then, and would fain sin no more.” I need not
repeat much other discourse we had on this subject, both seriously and
in jest; but the impudent scamp did certainly enjoy that pretty bit of
flesh, more meet for some gallant gentleman than for such as he. It
was as well for him he did quit that house pretty smartly; else had he
fared ill. However, enough of this. Cursed be the fellow, for the hate
and envy I do bear him,—as did M. de Ronsard to a physician which was
used to come night and morning rather to see the poet’s mistress, and
feel her breasts and bosom and rounded arm, than to medicine her for
the fever she had. He writ a very charming sonnet on the subject; ’tis
in the second book of his _Amours_, and begins thus:
Hé que je porte et de hayne et d’envie
Au médecin qui vient et matin,
Sans nul propos, tastonner le tétin,
Le sein, le ventre et les flancs de ma mye.
I do bear a like fierce jealousy against a physician which did
similarly toward a fair and noble lady I was enamoured of,[91*] and
from whom I never gat any such privileges and familiarities, though
I had loved them better than the winning of a little kingdom. These
gentry are for sure exceeding agreeable to dames and damsels, and do
have fine adventures with them, an if they seek after such. I have
known two physicians at Court, one M. Castellan, physician to the Queen
Mother, the other the Seigneur Cabrian, physician to M. de Nevers, and
who had held the same office with Ferdinand de Gonzague. Both have
enjoyed successes with women, by all one hears, that the greatest
noblemen at Court would have sold their souls to the devil for to have
gone shares with them.
We were discoursing one day, the late Baron de Vitaux and myself, with
M. Le Grand, a famous physician of Paris, a man of agreeable manners
and excellent counsel, he having come to visit the said Baron, who
was ill of some amorous indiscretion. Both of us questioning him on
sundry little ways and peculiarities of the ladies, he did entertain
us finely, and told us a round dozen of tales that did verily take the
prize. So engrossed did he grow herewith, that, nine o’clock striking,
he cried, getting up from the chair where he was seated: “Truly, I am a
greater simpleton than you two, which have kept me here two good hours
chattering with you rascals, and all the while I have been forgetting
six or seven sick folk I am bound to go visit.” So with a word of
farewell, he doth hie him away, though not without a further last word
in reply to us, when we called after him: “Rascal yourself, Doctor! Oh!
you doctors know some fine things and do ’em too, and you especially,
for you talk like a past master of the art.” He answered us, looking
down, “True enough, true enough! we both know and do some fine doings,
for we do possess sundry secrets not open to all the world. But I’m
an old man now, and have bid a long farewell to Venus and her boy.
Nowadays I leave all this to you younger rascals.”
2.