[90] _The Dialogues of Luisa Sigea_: Translated from the Latin of
Nicolas Chorier: Paris: Isidore Liseux, 1890. Our extract is from the
opening lines of the first dialogue; the phraseology, at times, is our
own.
_Tullia._
Sweet it is to me, dearest cousin, that thy marriage with Caviceo is
finally concluded: for, the night which will make thee a wife in his
embraces will, I assure thee, afford thee by far the greatest of all
pleasures; provided Venus befriend thee, as this thy heavenly shape
deserveth.
_Ottavia._
My mother told me this morning that I am to be wedded to-morrow to
Caviceo. And I see that the requisites for the pomp of this event are
being prepared at home with great care: the bed, bed-room, and so
forth. But, of course, these things cause less joy than fear in my
soul; for, whatever in fine may be that pleasure of which thou, my
dearest cousin, speakest, I neither know nor even imagine.
_Tullia._
It should seem nowise strange that thou at this age and so soft (for
thou hast barely attained thy fifteenth year), dost not know what
I, though older when I married, wholly ignored; that delight which
Pomponia used to promise and so loudly extol, having been tasting it
herself since three years.
_Ottavia._
But what greatly surpriseth me is that thou shouldst wholly ignore it.
Allow me to speak more openly now that I am on the eve of complete
freedom. For if the practice were lacking, which thou certainly hadst
not, yet thy great learning must have disclosed these secrets to thee.
I often hear thee extolled to the clouds in the most flattering terms,
because thou art so skilled in Latin and Greek literature as in nearly
all the liberal arts that there seemeth to be naught which thou dost
not know.
_Tullia._
My father had so much to do in this, that, with the same zeal as most
other girls are seeking after the reputation of being handsome and
elegant, I was entirely bent on acquiring the honour of being a learned
maid. And they that prefer to flatter than speak the truth, say: she
hath not quite lost her time.
_Ottavia._
They who will not flatter say also: scarcely have esteem of virtue,
good morals remained with those of our sex who were considered learned,
even when they obtained this honour.
_Tullia._
Would they deny I am chaste, while owning I am learned?
_Ottavia._
Ay, they would; but thou hast won the admiration of all while taking
care that thy learning did not interfere with thy good and chaste
morals; it hath produced an extraordinary prodigy. But how could it
be possible that the Muses, who are styled virgins, should be deemed
hostile to the honour of virgins? Why are they said to corrupt our
minds, they who are as the ardour of our souls, stimulating us all,
men and women alike, to grand and praiseworthy actions? Undoubtedly
because men, from a certain haughty and silly malignity, envy us these
resources of which they themselves are proud, by making us the victims
of their jealousy. Men shun every poison and venom just as we do,
whom they call the weaker sex, because the same pest which may take
our lives away, may take theirs away too. If learning be a venom and
a pest for us, as they assert, how is it that so dangerous a thing,
in order to be useful to men, (for they do not deny but that it is
useful to them), should change its nature all on a sudden? If learning
is, of its very essence, a certain source of every evil and crime for
us, how shall they drink out of the same source the nectarean waters
of immortal glory: whilst we unhappy and wretched women shall drink
a sort of sulphureous Stygian water which will excite us to those
debaucheries, to which they drive us by their sway or lead us by their
example? For, I remember that thou spokest thus on this subject a few
days ago in thy conversation with Caviceo. It is exceedingly nice of
thee to have conserved until now that pure reputation of an honest
woman, with that beauty which inflameth even the coldest, with that
learning which doth captivate those insensible of beauty.
_Tullia._
Thou who speakest thus, thou who knowest that love inflameth men’s
hearts, art not so simple as I thought.
_Ottavia._
Am I totally ignorant of what Caviceo’s eyes, brow, in a word, his
whole countenance so often told me, even though he were silent? I was
indeed truly surprised at the unwonted fire of his kisses, when he made
free with me eight days ago; I know but too well what that ardour and
fire meant.
_Tullia._
Thy mother was absent? thou wast alone? thou wast not at all afraid of
him?
_Ottavia._
My mother was gone out; but what was to be feared from him? Of course I
feared naught.
_Tullia._
All he asked was kisses?
_Ottavia._
On the contrary, the fool took them against my will, brandishing his
glowing tongue between my lips.
_Tullia._
What sensation came over thee, then?
_Ottavia._
I shall acknowledge it: some heat or other hitherto unfelt passed
through my veins: my whole frame was inflamed. He thought that a maiden
blush bepainted my cheek; for a little while he forebore his folly and
busy hand.... I shall ever hate those roguish hands, from the very fact
that they with their fire impregnated me, tortured and wearied!
_Tullia._
A nice affair!
_Ottavia._
Why? having stuck his hand in my breast, he seized one of my paps, then
the other; and while he was handling each of them rather hard, lo! he
tossed me over on my back in spite of me.
_Tullia._
Thou art blushing; the deed was accomplished.
_Ottavia._
His left hand was laid on my bosom (I am stating how the thing was
done), he easily overcame all my efforts; he next slipped his right
hand under my petticoat. I blush, I blush to tell it.
_Tullia._
Lay aside that ridiculous modesty; fancy thou art relating to thyself
what thou art telling me.
_Ottavia._
Having speedily lifted my petticoat above my knees, he handled my
thighs. Oh! hadst thou beheld his sparkling eyes!
_Tullia._
So thou wast happy then!
_Ottavia._
Having carried his hand higher, he invaded that place which, they say,
distinguisheth us from the other sex; ay, it is now a year ago, and
ever since a lot of blood doth run from me every month during several
days.
_Tullia._
Bravo, Caviceo! ah! ah! ah!
_Ottavia._
Oh, the rascal! “This part,” he saith, “will soon rejoice me
exceedingly. Do consent, my Ottavia.” A little more and I had fainted
at these words.
_Tullia._
What did he then do?
_Ottavia._
That part of me, thou wouldst scarcely believe, hath a very small
slit....
_Tullia._
But inflamed, but glowing.
_Ottavia._
He thrust his finger into it, and, as the place could barely contain
it, I felt a sharp pain throughout all my senses. But he: “I have a
virgin,” said he, and no sooner said than forcibly opening my thighs
which I kept as tight as ever I could, he threw himself upon me.
_Tullia._
Thou art silent? he put naught but his finger in?
_Ottavia._