SEVENTH DISCOURSE[84*]

SEVENTH DISCOURSE[84*]

Concerning married women, widows and maids,—to wit, which of these same be better than the other to love.

INTRODUCTION

One day when I was at the Court of Spain at Madrid, and conversing with a very honourable lady, as is the way at Kings’ Courts, she did chance to ask me this question following: Qual era mayor fuego d’amor, el de la biuda, el de la casada, o de la hija moça,—“which of the three had the greater heat of love, widow, wife or maid?” After myself had told her mine opinion, she did in turn give me hers in some such terms as these: Lo que me parece d’ esta cosa es que, aunque las moças con el hervor de la sangre, se disponen á querer mucho, no deve ser tanto como lo que quieren las casadas y biudas, con la gran experiencia del negocio. Esta razon debe ser natural, como lo seria la del que, por haver nacido ciego de la perfeccion de la luz, no puede cobdiciar de ella con tanto deseo como el que vio, y fue privado de la vista.—“What I think on the matter is this: that albeit maids, with all that heat of blood that is theirs, be right well disposed to love, yet do they not love so well as wives and widows. This is because of the great experience of the business the latter have, and the obvious fact that supposing a man born blind, and from birth robbed of all power of vision, he can never desire the gift so strongly as he that hath sweetly enjoyed the same a while and then been deprived thereof.” To which she did presently add this further remark: Con menos pena se abstiene d’ una cosa la persona que nunca supo, que aquella que vive enamorada del gusto pasado—“How that one could with a lesser ado refrain from a thing one had never tried, than from one already known and loved.” Such were the reasons this lady did adduce on this moot point.

Again the respected and learned Boccaccio, among the questions discussed in his Filicopo,[85*] doth in the ninth treat of this same problem: Which of these three, wife, widow or maid, a man should rather fall in love with, in order the more happily to carry his desire into effect? The author doth answer by the mouth of the Queen he doth there introduce speaking, that although ’tis of course very ill done and against God and one’s own conscience to covet a married woman, which is in no sense another’s, but subject to her husband, it is natheless far easier to come to the point with her than ever with maid or widow, albeit such love is dangerous,—seeing the more a man doth blow the fire, the more he rouseth it, whereas otherwise it dieth down. Indeed all things do wane in the using, except only wantonness, which doth rather wax. But the widow, which hath been long without such exercise, doth scarce feel it at all, and doth take no more account of love than if she had never been married, and is more heated by memory of the past than by present concupiscence. Also the maid, which hath no knowledge nor experience of what it is, save by imagination, hath but a lukewarm longing therefor. On the other hand the married woman, heated more than the others, doth oft desire to come to the point and enjoy this pleasure, in spite of its sometimes bringing on her her husband’s sore displeasure manifested in words and eke blows. For all this, fain to be revenged on him (for naught is so vengeful as a woman), as well as for sake of the thing itself, doth the wife make him cuckold right out, and enjoy the desire of her heart. Beside, folk do soon weary of eating ever of the same meat, and for this cause even great Lords and Ladies do often leave good and delicate viands for to take others instead. Moreover, with girls, ’tis a matter of overmuch pains and consumption of time to tame them and bring them round to the will of men; nay! an if they do love, they know not that they do. But with widows, the old fire doth readily recover its vigour, very soon making them desire once more what by reason of long discontinuance they had forgot the savour of. Thus they be not slow to come back again to the old delights, only regretting the time wasted and the weary nights of widowhood passed all alone and uncomforted in their cold beds.

In answer to these arguments of the Queen, a certain gentleman named Faramond doth make reply. Leaving married women aside altogether, as being so easy to get the better of without a man’s using any great reasoning to persuade them to it, he doth consider the case of maids and widows, maintaining the maid to be more steadfast in love than the widow. For the widow, who hath experienced in the past the secrets of passion, doth never love steadfastly, but always doubtfully and tentatively, quickly changing and desiring now one, now another gallant, never knowing to which she should give herself for her greater advantage and honour! Nay! sometimes so vacillating is she in her long deliberations she doth choose never an one at all, and her amorous passion can find no steadfast hold whatever. Quite opposite is the maid, he saith, and all such doubts and hesitations be foreign to her. Her one desire is to have a lover true, and after once choosing him well, to give all her soul to him and please him in all things, deeming it the best honour she can do him to be true and steadfast in her love. So being only too ardent for the things which have never yet been seen, heard or proven of her, she doth long far more than other women which have had experience of life, to see, hear and prove all such matters. Thus the keen desire she hath to see new things doth strongly dominate her heart; she doth make enquiries of them that know,—which doth increase her flame yet more. Accordingly she is very eager to be joined with him she hath made Lord of her affections, whereas this same ardour is not in the widow, seeing she hath passed that way already.

Well at the last the Queen in Boccaccio, taking up the word again and wishing to give a final answer to the question, doth thus conclude: That the widow is more painstaking of the pleasure of love an hundred fold than the virgin, seeing the latter is all for dearly guarding her precious virginity and maidenhead. Further, virgins be naturally timid, and above all in this matter, awkward and inept to find the sweet artifices and pretty complaisances required under divers circumstances in such encounters. But this is not so with the widow, who is already well practised, bold and ready in this art, having long ago bestowed and given away what the virgin doth make so much ado about giving. For this cause she hath no fear of her person being looked at, or her virtue impugned by the discovery of any mark of lapse from honour; and in all respects she doth better know the secret ways for to arrive at her end. Beside all this, the maid doth dread this first assault of her virginity, which in many women is sometimes rather grievous and painful than soft and pleasant, whereas widows have no such fear, but do submit themselves very sweetly and gently, even when the assailant be of the roughest. Now this particular pleasure is quite different from many others, for with them a man is oft satisfied with the first experience and goeth lightly to others, whereas in this the longing to return once more to the same doth ever wax more and more. Accordingly the widow, which doth give least, but giveth it often, is an hundred times more liberal than the maid, when this last doth at length consent to abandon her most precious possession, to the which she doth direct a thousand thoughts and regrets. Wherefore, the Queen doth conclude, ’tis much better for a man to address himself to a widow than to a maid, as being far easier to gain over and corrupt.

ARTICLE I

OF THE LOVE OF MARRIED WOMEN

Now to take and further consider these arguments of Boccaccio, and expand them somewhat, and discuss the same, according to the words I have heard spoke of many honourable gentlefolk, both men and women, on these matters,—as the result of ample knowledge and experience, I declare there can be no doubt that any man wishing quickly to have fruition of love, must address him to married ladies, an if he would avoid great trouble and much consumption of time; for, as Boccaccio saith, the more a fire is stirred, the more ardent doth it grow. And ’tis the married woman which doth grow so hot with her husband, that an if he be lacking in the wherewithal to extinguish the fire he doth give his wife, she must needs borrow of another man, or burn up alive. I did once know myself a lady of good birth, of a great and high family, which did one day tell her lover, and he did repeat the tale to me, how that of her natural disposition she was in no wise keen for this pleasure so much as folk would think (and God wot this is keen enough), and was ready and willing many a time to go without, were it not that her husband stirring her up, while yet he was not strong or capable enough to properly assuage her heat, he did make her so fierce and hot she was bound to resort for succour in this pass to her lover. Nay! very often not getting satisfaction enough of him even, she would withdraw her alone, to her closet or her bed, and there in secrecy would cure her passion as best she might. Why! she declared, had it not been for very shame, she would have given herself to the first she met in a ballroom, in any alcove, or on the very steps, so tormented was she with this terrible feeling. Herein was she for all the world like the mares on the borders of Andalusia, which getting so hot and not finding their stallions there to leap them and so unable to have satisfaction, do set their natural opening against the wind blowing in these plains, which doth so enter in and assuageth their heat and getteth them with foal. Hence spring those steeds of such fleetness we see from those regions, as though keeping some of the fleetness and natural swiftness of the wind their sire. I ween there be husbands enough would be right glad if their wives could find such a wind as this, to refresh them and assuage their heat, without their having to resort to their lovers and give their poor mates most unbecoming horns for their heads.

Truly a strange idiosyncrasy in a woman, the one I have just adduced,—not to burn, but when stirred of another. Yet need we be in no way astonished thereat, for as said a Spanish lady: Que quanto mas me quiero sacar de la braza, tanto mas mi marido me abraza en el brazero,—“The more I am for avoiding the embers, the more my husband doth burn me in my brazier.” And truly women may well be kindled that way, seeing how by mere words, by touching and embracing alone, even by alluring looks, they do readily allow themselves to be drawn to it, when they find opportunity, without a thought of the consideration they owe their husbands.

For, to tell the real truth, what doth most hinder every woman, wife or maid, from taking of this pleasure again and again is the dread they feel of having their belly swell, without eating beans,—an event married ladies do not fear a whit. For an if they do so swell, why! ’tis the poor husband that hath done it all, and getteth all the credit. And as for the laws of honour which do forbid them so to do, why! Boccaccio doth plainly say the most part of women do laugh at these, alleging for reason and justification: that Nature’s laws come first, which doth never aught in vain, and hath given them such excellent members to be used and set to work, and not to be left idle and unemployed. Nature neither forbiddeth the proper exercise of these nor imposeth disuse on these parts more than on any other; else would the spiders be building their webs there, as I have said in another place, unless they do find brushes meet to sweep them away withal. Beside, from keeping themselves unexercised do very oft spring sore complaints and even dangers to life,—and above all a choking of the womb, whereof so many women die as ’tis pitiful to see, and these right fair and honourable dames. All this for sake of this plaguey continence, whereof the best remedy, say the doctors, is just carnal connection, and especially with very vigorous and well provided husbands. They say further, at any rate some of our fair ones do, that this law of honour is only for them that love not and have got them no true and honourable lovers, in whom no doubt ’tis unbecoming and blameworthy to go sacrifice to the chastity of their body, as if they were no better than courtesans. But such as truly love, and have gotten them lovers well chosen and good, this law of honour doth in no wise forbid them to help these to assuage the fires that burn them, and give them wherewithal to extinguish the same. This is verily and indeed for women to give life to the suppliant asking it, showing themselves gentle-hearted benefactresses, not savage and cruel tyrants.

This is what Renaldo said, whom I have spoke of in a former discourse, when telling of the poor afflicted Ginevra. As to this, I did once know a very honourable lady and a great one, whom her lover did one day find in her closet, translating that famous stanza of the said Renaldo beginning, Una donna deve dunque morire,—“A lady fair was like to die,” into French verse, as fair and fairly wrought, as ever I have seen,—for I did see the lines after. On his asking her what she had writ there, she replied: “See, a translation I have just made, which is at once mine own judgment by me delivered, and a sentence pronounced in your favour for to content you in that you desire,—and only the execution doth now remain;” and this last, the reading done, was promptly carried out. A better sentence i’faith than was ever given in the Bailey Court of the Paris Parliament![86] For of all the fine words and excellent arguments wherewith Ariosto hath adorned Renaldo’s speech, I do assure you the lady forgat never an one to translate and reproduce them all well and thoroughly, so as the translation was as meet as ever the original to stir the heart. Thus did she let her lover plainly understand she was ready enough to save his life, and not inexorable to his supplication, while he was no less apt to seize his opportunity.

Why then shall a lady, when that Nature hath made her good and full of pity, not use freely the gifts given her, without ingratitude to the giver, and without resistance and contradiction to her laws? This was the view of a fair lady I have heard speak of, which watching her husband one day walking up and down in a great hall, cannot refrain her from turning to her lover and saying, “Just look at our good man pacing there; has not he the true build of a cuckold? Surely I should have gone sore against dame Nature, seeing she had created him and destined him for this, an if I had contradicted her intent and given her the lie!”

I have heard speak of another lady, which did thus complain of her husband, which did treat her ill and was ever jealously spying on her, suspecting she was making him a set of horns: “Nay! he is too good,” she would cry to her lover; “he thinks his fire is a match for mine. Why! I do put his out in a turn of the hand, with four or five drops of water. But for mine, which hath a very different depth of furnace, I do need a flood. For we women be of our nature like dropsical folk or a sandy ditch, which the more water they swallow, the more they want.”

Another said yet better, how that a woman was like chickens, which do get the pip and die thereof, if they be stinted of water and have not enough to drink. A woman is the same, which doth breed the pip and oft die thereof, if they are not frequently given to drink; only ’tis something else than spring water it must have. Another fair lady was used to say she was like a good garden, which not content with the rain of heaven only, doth ask water of the gardener as well, to be made more fruitful thereby. Another would say she would fain resemble those good economists and excellent managers which do never give out all their property to be guided and a profit earned to one agent alone, but do divide it among several hands. One alone could not properly suffice to get good value. After a similar fashion was she for managing herself, to make the best thereof and for herself to reap the highest enjoyment.

I have heard of yet another lady which had a most ill-favoured lover, and a very handsome husband and of a good grace, the lady herself being likewise very well-looking. One of her chiefest lady friends and gossips remonstrating with her and asking why she did not choose a handsomer lover, “Know you not,” she said, “that to cultivate well a piece of land more than one labourer is wanted, and as a rule the best-looking and most dainty be not the most meet workers, but the most rustical and hardy?” Another lady I knew, which had a very ill-favoured husband and of a very evil grace, did choose a lover as foul as he; and when one of her friends did ask her the reason why, “’Tis the better,” quoth she, “to accustom me to mine husband’s ugliness.”

Yet another lady, discoursing one day of love, as well her own as that of other fair ladies her companions, said: “An if women were alway chaste, why! they would never know but one side of life,”—herein basing on the doctrine of the Emperor Heliogabalus, who was used to declare, “that one half of a man’s life should be employed in virtues, and the other half in vices; else being always in one condition, either wholly good or wholly bad, one could never judge of the opposite side at all, which yet doth oft serve the better to attemper the first.” I have known great personages to approve this maxim, and especially where women were concerned. Again the wife of the Emperor Sigismund, who was called Barba,[87*] was used to say that to be forever in one and the same condition of chastity was a fool woman’s part, and did much reprove her ladies, wives or maids, which did persist in this foolish opinion, and most surely for her own part did very thoroughly repudiate the same. For indeed all her pleasure lay but in feasts, dances, balls and love-makings, and much mockery was for any which did not the like, or which did fast to mortify the flesh, and were for following a quiet life. I leave you to imagine if it went not well at the Court of this Emperor and Empress,—I mean for all such, men and women, as take joy in love’s pleasures.

I have heard speak of a very honourable lady and of good repute, which did fairly fall ill of the love which she bare her lover, yet did never consent to risk the matter, because of this same high law of honour so much insisted on and preached up of husbands. But seeing how day by day she was more and more consumed away and burned up, in such wise that in a twinkling she did behold herself wax dry, lean, and languishing, and from being aforetime fresh, plump and in good case, now all changed and altered, as her mirror informed her, she did at length cry: “Nay! how shall it be said of me that in the flower of mine age, and at the prompting of a mere frivolous point of honour and silly scruple making me overmuch keep in my natural fire, I did thus come to dry up and waste away, and grow old and ugly before my time, and lose all the bloom of my beauty, which did erst make me valued and preferred and loved. Instead of a fair lady of good flesh and bone I am become a skeleton, a very anatomy, enough to make folk banish me and jeer at me in any good company, a laughing-stock to all and sundry. No! I will save me from such a fate; I will use the remedies I have in my power.” And herewith, what she said, she did, and contenting her own and her love’s desires, she soon gat back her flesh again and grew as fair as before,—without her husband’s ever suspecting the remedy she had used, but attributing the cure to the doctors, whom he did greatly honour and warmly thank for having so restored his wife to health for his better profit and enjoyment.

I have heard speak of another great lady, one of a merry humour and a pretty wit, to whom, being sick, her physician did one day declare how that she would never be well, unless she changed her habits. Hereupon she answered straight, “Well then! let us do it.” So the physician and she did take one with the other joy of heart and body. One day she said to him, “People all declare you do it for me; but there, ’tis all one, as I am so much better. And all ever I can, I will go on doing it,—as mine health doth depend on it.”

These two dames last spoke of were quite unlike that honourable lady of Pampeluna in Spain, whom I have already mentioned in a previous passage, and who is described in the Cent Nouvelles of the Queen of Navarre. This lady, being madly in love with M. d’Avannes, did think it better to hide her flame, and keep hid in her bosom the passion that was consuming her, and die thereof, than lose her honour. But by what I have heard sundry honourable lords and ladies say in discussing the matter, she was a fool for her pains, and little regardful of her soul’s salvation, seeing she did bring about her own death, it being in her power to avoid this extremity, and all for a trifle. For in very fact, as an old French proverb doth put it, “D’une herbe de pré tondue et d’un c... f..., le dommage est bientôt rendu.” And what is it, when all is done? The business, once done, is like any other; what sign is there of it to men’s eyes? Doth the lady walk any the less upright? doth the world know aught? I mean of course when ’tis done in secret, with closed doors, and no man by to see. I would much like to know this, if many of the great ladies of mine own acquaintance, for ’tis with such love doth most take up abode (as this same lady of Pampeluna saith, ’tis at high portals that high winds do beat), if these do therefore cease to walk abroad with proudly lifted head, whether at this Court of France or elsewhere, and show them as unabashed as ever a Bradamant or Marfisa of them all. And pray, who would be so presumptuous as to ask them if they condescend to it? Even their husband (I tell you), the most of them at any rate, would never dare to charge them with it, so well do they understand the art of concealment and the keeping of a confident show and carriage. But an if these same husbands, any of them, do think to speak thereof and threaten them, or punish them with harsh words or deeds, why! they be undone; for then, even though before they had planned no ill against them, yet do they straightway plot revenge and give them back as good as they have gotten. For is there not an old proverb which saith, “When and so soon as a husband doth beat his wife, her body doth laugh for joy”? That is to say, it doth presently look for good times, knowing the natural bent of its mistress, who unable to avenge her wrongs by other weapons, will turn it to account as second and best ally, to pay her husband back with her lover’s help, no matter what watch and ward the poor man keep over her.

For verily, to attain their end, the most sovran means they have is to make their complaints to one another, or to their women and maids of the chamber, and so win these over to get them new lovers, if they have none, or an if they have, to convey these privily to places of assignation; and ’tis they which do mount guard that neither husband nor any other surprise them at it. Thus then do these ladies gain over their maids and women, bribing them with presents and good promises. In certain cases beside they do make agreement and composition with these, on the terms that of all the lover may give their lady mistress, the servant shall have the half or at least the third part thereof. But the worst is, very often the mistresses do deceive their servants, taking the whole for themselves, making excuse that their lover hath given them no more than so small a share as that they have not enough to spare aught for others. Thus do they hoax these poor wenches and serving maids, albeit they stand sentinel and keep good watch. This is a sore injustice; and I ween, were the case to be tried with proper arguments pleaded on this side and that, ’twould afford occasion for much merriment and shrewd debate. For ’tis verily theft, no less, so to filch their benefices and emoluments duly agreed upon. Other ladies there be however who do keep faithfully their promise and compact, and hold back naught, for to be the better served and loyally helped, herein copying those honest shop-keepers, who do render a just proportion of the gain and profit of the talent their master or partner hath entrusted them withal. And truly such dames do deserve to be right well served, seeing they be duly grateful for the trouble, and good watch and ward of their inferiors. And these last do run many risks and perils,—as one I wot of, who keeping guard one day, the while her mistress was with her lover and having merry times, both the twain being right well occupied, was caught by the husband’s house-steward. The man did chide her bitterly for what she was at, saying ’twere more becoming for her had she been with her mistress than to be playing procuress like this and standing sentinel outside her door. ’Twas a foul trick she was playing her mistress’ husband, and he would go warn him. However the lady did win him over by means of another of her maids, of whom he was enamoured and who did promise him some favour at her mistress’ prayers; beside, she did make him a present, and he was at last appeased. Natheless she did never like him afterward, and kept a shrewd eye on his doings; finally spying an opportunity and taking it on the hop, she did get him dismissed by her husband.

I wot of a fair and honourable lady,[88*] which did take a serving maid of hers into great intimacy and high favour and friendship, even allowing her much intimacy, having trained her well for such intercourse. So free was she with her mistress that sometimes when she did see this lady’s husband longtime absent from his house, engaged either at Court or on some journey, oft would she gaze at her mistress as she was dressing her, (and she was one of the most beautiful and lovable women of her day), and presently remark: “Ah, me! is he not ill-starred, Madam, that husband of yours, to possess so fair a wife, and yet have to leave her thus all alone so long without ever setting eyes on her? Doth he not deserve you should cuckold him outright? You really ought; and if I were as handsome as you, I should do as much to mine husband, if he tarried so much away.” I leave you to judge if the lady and mistress of this serving maid did find this a tasty nut to crack, especially finding as she did shoes all ready to her feet, whereof she did after make good use, freely employing so handy an instrument.

Again, there be ladies which do make use of their serving maids to help them hide their amours and prevent their husbands observing aught amiss, and do give them charge of their lovers, to keep and hold them as their own suitors, under this pretext to be able at any time to say, if the husbands do find them in their wives’ chambers, that they be there as paying court to such or such an one of their maids. So under this cloak hath the lady a most excellent means of playing her game, and the husband know naught at all about it. I knew a very great Prince indeed which did set him to pay court to a lady of the wardrobe to a great Princess, solely to find out the secret intrigues of her mistress, and so the better gain success in that quarter.

I have seen plenty of these tricks played in my lifetime, though not altogether in the fashion followed by a certain honourable lady of the world I once knew, which was so fortunate as to be loved of three brave and gallant gentlemen, one after the other. These on quitting her, did presently after love and serve a very great lady, whereon she did very pleasantly and good-humouredly deliver herself to this effect. ’Twas she, she said, who had so trained and fashioned them by her excellent lessons, as that coming now into the service of the said great Princess, they were exceeding well formed and educated. To rise so high, she declared, ’twas very needful first to serve smaller folk, in order not to fail with greater; for to arrive at any supreme degree of skill, a man must needs mount first by small and low degrees, as is seen in all arts and sciences.

This did her great honour. Yet more deserving still was another I have heard tell of, which was in the train of a great lady. This lady was married, and being surprised by her husband in her chamber receiving a little paper note or billet doux from her lover, was right well succoured by her subordinate. For this last, cleverly intercepting the note, did swallow down the same at one gulp without making any bones about it and without the husband perceiving aught, who would have treated his wife very ill indeed, if he had once seen the inside. This was a very noble piece of service, and one the great lady was always grateful for.

On the other hand I wot well of ladies which have found them in evil case for having overmuch trusted their serving maids, and others again for not having trusted them at all. I have heard speak of a fair and honourable lady, who had taken and chose out a gentleman, one of the bravest, most valiant and well accomplished of all France, to give the same pleasure and delight of herself. She would never trust any one of her women, and assignation being given in a friend’s house, it was concerted and arranged there should be but one bed in the chamber, her women all sleeping in the antechamber. As settled, so done. And as there was a cat’s-hole in the door, which they had not remembered or provided for till the moment, they bethought them to stop this with a thin board, to the end that if any pushed it down, it would make a rattle, which they would hear and could take measures accordingly. One of her women, suspecting a snake in the grass, and angry and hurt because her mistress had not confided in her, whom she had ever made her chiefest confidante, and had given many proofs thereof, doth now make up her mind, so soon as her mistress was to bed, to keep a look out and listen at the door. She could hear quite well a low murmuring, yet was sure ’twas not the reading aloud her mistress had for some days indulged in in bed, with a candle, the better to dissemble what she was going to do. Just as she was on the tip-toe of curiosity, to know more, an excellent occasion did present itself most opportunely. For a kitten happening to come into the room, she and her companions take the animal and push it through the cat’s-hole into her mistress’ chamber, not of course without knocking down the board that kept it closed and making a clatter. At this the pair of lovers, sore startled, did suddenly sit up in bed, and saw by the light of their candle ’twas only a cat that had come in and knocked down the board. Wherefore without troubling more about it, they laid them down again, seeing ’twas now late and everybody presumably asleep, but never shut to again the cat’s-hole, leaving the same open for the cat to go out again by, as they did not care to have it shut up in their room all night long. Seizing so good an opportunity, the said waiting maid and her companions had a fine chance to see enough and to spare of their mistress’ doings. These they did after reveal to the husband, whence came death for the lover, and shame and disgrace for the lady.

This is what doth come of despite and want of confidence shown folk, which be often just as productive of ill consequences as over-confidence. I have heard of a very great nobleman which was moved one time to take all his wife’s waiting-maids (and she was a well-born and very fair lady), and have them tortured to make them confess all their misdeeds and the services they had rendered her in her amours. However his first intent was carried no further, to avoid too horrible a scandal. The first suggestion came from a lady whose name I will not give, who had a grudge against the said great lady. For the which God did punish her later.

ARTICLE II

OF THE LOVE OF MAIDS

1.

So now, following the order of Boccaccio, our guide in this discourse, I come next to maids. These, it must certainly be allowed, be of their nature exceeding timid at first beginning, and dare in no wise yield up what they hold so dear, spite of the constant persuasion and advice their fathers, mothers, kinsfolk and mistresses do give them, along with most moving threats. So it is that, though they should have all the good will thereto in the world, yet they do deny themselves all ever they can; beside they have ever before their eyes the terror lest their bodies do play them false and betray them, else would they try many a tasty morsel. Yet all have not this scrupulousness; for shutting their eyes to all reflection, some do rush boldly into it,—not indeed with head down, but rather thrown well back. Herein do they make a sore mistake, seeing how terrible is the scandal of a maid deflowered, and of a thousandfold more import than for married woman or widow. For a maid, this treasure of hers once lost, is made the object of endless scandal and abuse, is pointed at by all men, and doth lose many a good opportunity of marriage. For all this, I have known not a few cases where some rough fellow or other hath been found, either willingly, or of sudden caprice, knowingly or unwittingly, on compulsion, to go throw himself into the breach, and marry them, as I have described elsewhere, all tarnished as they were, but right glad to get them churched after all.

Many such of either sex have I known in my day, and in especial one maid which did most shamefully let herself be got with child by a great Prince,[89*] and that without an attempt at hiding or dissembling her condition. On being discovered, all she said was this: “What was I to do? ’tis not my frailty you must blame, nor my lustfulness, but only my over heedlessness and lack of foresight. For an if I had been as clever and knowing as the most part of my companions, which have done just as ill as I, or even worse, but have had wit enough to cure their pregnancy or conceal their lying-in, I should not now be in this strait, nor had any known a word about it.” Her companions did for this word wish her mighty ill; and she was accordingly expelled the band by her mistress, albeit ’twas reported this same mistress had ordered her to yield to the wishes of the Prince, wishing to get an hold over him and win him to herself. For all this, however, the girl failed not some while after to make a good match and contract a rich marriage, and presently give birth to a noble offspring. Thus we see, an if the poor child had been as wily as her comrades and other girls, this luck had never been hers. And truly in my day I have seen mere girls as clever and expert in these matters as ever the oldest married woman, nay! going so far as to be most effective and experienced procuresses, and not content with their own satisfaction only, to be after contriving the same delights for others to boot.

’Twas a lady in waiting at the French Court which did invent and have performed that fine Comedy entitled the Paradis d’Amour (Paradise of Love) in the Salle de Bourbon with closed doors, at which performance were none but actors and actresses present, forming players and audience both together. Such as do know the story will know what I mean. The play had six characters, three male and three female. Of these one was a Prince, who had his fair one, a great lady, though not too great neither, yet did he love her dearly; the second was a Lord, who did intrigue with the great Lady, a lady very liberal of her favours; the third was a simple gentleman, who did carry on with the maid, whom he did marry later. For the gallant authoress was fain to see her own character represented on the stage no less than the rest! Indeed ’tis ever so with the author of a Comedy; he doth put himself in the play, or else in the prologue. And so did this one, and on my faith, girl as she was, did play the part as well as the married women, if not better. The fact is she had seen more of the world than just her own country, and as the Spaniards say rafinada en Secobia,—had had a Segovia polish or fining. This is a proverb in Spain, Segovia being where the best cloths are fined.

I have heard tales told of many maids, who while serving their lady mistresses as Dariolettes, or confidantes, have been fain to taste and try the same dainties. Such ladies moreover be often slaves in their own women’s hands, from dread of their discovering them and publishing abroad their amours, as I have noted above. ’Twas a lady in waiting who did one day tell me her opinion,—that ’twas a mighty piece of folly for maids to sacrifice their honour to their passions, and while some silly creatures were restrained therefrom by their scruples, for herself she would not deign to do it, the whole thing ending in mere shame and disgrace. On the other hand the trick of keeping one’s affair privy and secret made all right, and girls were mere fools and unfit for this wicked world which cannot help themselves and manage the thing quietly.

A Spanish lady, thinking her daughter was afraid of the violence of the first wedding night, went to her and began to encourage her and persuade her ’twas naught at all and she would feel no pain, adding that herself would be right glad to be in her place the better to show her how to bear it. To this the girl replied, Bezo las manos, señora madre, de tal merced, que bien la tomaré yo por mi,—“Much thanks, my lady mother, for your kind offer, but I will manage very well by myself.”

I have heard a merry tale of a girl of very high birth, who had 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,

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:

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.

We read in the life of St. Louis, in the History of Paulus Aemilius, of a certain Marguerite, Countess of Flanders, sister of Jeanne, daughter of Baldwin I., Emperor of the Greeks, and his successor, seeing she had no children,—so says History. She was given in her early girlhood a teacher named Guillaume, a man esteemed of an holy life and who had already taken minor orders. Yet did this in no wise hinder him to get two children of his fair pupil, which were christened Baldwin and John, and all so privily as that few folk knew aught of the matter. The two boys were later declared legitimate by the Pope. What fine teaching, and what a teacher! So much for History.

I knew a great Lady at Court which had the repute of being over familiar with her reader and teacher,—so much so indeed that one day Chicot, the King’s jester,[92*] did openly reproach her therewith in presence of his Majesty and many other personages of the Court, asking her if she were not ashamed to have herself loved (saying the word right out) of so ugly and base a loon as yonder fellow, and if she had not wit to choose a better man. The company hereon began to laugh uproariously and the lady to weep, supposing that the King had abetted the game; for strokes of the sort were quite in character with his usual play. Other very great ladies and high Princesses I have known, which every day would amuse themselves with making their Secretaries, whom I have likewise known, write, or rather pretend to write, and have fine games. Or if they did not call for them to write, having naught to say, then would they make them read aloud, for to give a better colour to the whole thing, declaring how reading themselves did weaken their sight.

Great ladies which do make choice of suchlike paramours be quite inexcusable and most blameworthy, seeing they have their liberty of action, and full freedom and opportunity to choose whom they will. But poor girls which be abject slaves of father and mother, kinsfolk and guardians and mistresses, and timid to boot, are constrained to pick up any stone they can find for their purpose, never thinking whether it be cold or hot, roast or boiled. And so, according as occasion offer, they do generally resort to their men-servants, to their school-master and teacher, to fellows of the artist craft, lute-players, fiddlers, dancing masters, painters, in a word their different instructors in knowledge and accomplishments, and even sometimes preachers of religion and holy monks, as Boccaccio doth describe and the Queen of Navarre in her Nouvelles. The like is done by pages, as myself have noted, lackeys, and especially stage-players, with whom I have known two maids of honour desperately in love and not scrupling to indulge the same. Poets too I have known in some cases to have debauched fair maids, wives and widows.

These do fondly love to be praised and worshipped, and with this bait are caught, as indeed by almost any they do find convenient and can attract to them. Lawyers again be very dangerous folk in these matters.

Now note why ’tis Boccaccio and other writers with him do find maids to be more constant in love and more steadfast than wives or widows. ’Tis because they do resemble persons afloat on a river in a sinking boat. They that cannot swim at all do spring at the first branches they can catch hold of, and do grasp these firmly and obstinately till they see help arrive. Others that can swim, do leap into the water and strike out boldly till they have reached the bank. Even so young maids, whenas they have gotten a lover, do hold and keep him steadfastly, the one they have first chose, and will in no wise let him go, but love him steadfastly. This cometh of the dread that, having no free choice and proper opportunity, they may not be able, an if they lose him, to get another such as they would wish. Whereas married women and widows, which do know the wiles of love and are well experienced, and have full liberty and all convenience to swim in all waters without danger, may choose what mate they please; and if they weary of one lover or lose him, why! they can straight get another, or even take two. For with them ’tis ever a case of “one lost, two got back.”

Beside, young girls have not the means, the money and crown-pieces, to win them new lovers every day; for all ever they can give their lovers is some small gift of a lock of hair, a little seed pearl or so, a bracelet, a small ring or a scarf, or other insignificant presents that cost almost naught. For high-born as a girl may be (I have seen it myself), and no matter of how great an house and how rich an heiress, she is kept so short of money, by father, mother, kinsfolk or guardians, as the case may be, that she simply hath not the means to give much to her lover, nor scarce ever to untie her purse widely,—unless it be her purse in front. Besides, girls be of themselves miserly, if for no other reason, yet because they be forced to it, having scarce any means of extravagance; for generosity in giving doth rest and depend above all on the ability to gratify it. On the contrary wives and widows can dispose of their wealth very freely, when they have any; and above all, when they have fancied a man, and be taken with passion and caprice for him, there is naught they will not sell and give away to the very shift on their back, rather than not have enjoyment of him. Herein they are just like gluttons and folk that be slaves of their mouths, who taking a fancy to a tid-bit, must have the same, no matter what it cost them at the market. Poor maids be in quite other case; whatsoever they can get, be it good or bad, this must they stop and buy.

I could bring forward a whole host of their intrigues, and their divers appetites and curious preferences. But I should never get me done at that rate; beside what would such tales be worth, unless the subjects were given by name and surname. But this is a thing I will not do at any price, for I desire to bring shame on no woman; and I have made profession to avoid in this my book all evil-speaking whatsoever, so that none may have aught to reproach me with on the score of scandal-mongering. However to tell my tales, suppressing the names, in this can be no harm. I do leave my readers to guess the persons intended; and many a time they will suppose it to be one, though all the while ’tis quite another.

3.

Now just as we do see different sorts of wood of such different nature, that some will burn when quite green, as the ash and the beech, but others, be they as dry, old and well seasoned as you please, for instance the elm, the alder and others, do burn only as slowly and tediously as possible, while many others, following the general nature of all dry and old wood, do blaze up in their dryness and oldness so rapidly and suddenly ’tis rather a destroying and instant reducing to ashes than burning proper, so is the like true of women, whether maids, wives or widows. Some, so soon as ever they be come to the first greenness of their age, do burn so easily and well, you would say from their very mother’s womb they do draw thence an amorousness; as did the fair Laïs from her fair mother Tymandra, that most famous harlot, and an hundred thousand others which herein do take after the good whores their mothers. Nay! sometimes they do not so much as wait for the age of maturity, that may be put at twelve or thirteen, to begin loving, but are at it sooner yet. This happened not twelve years agone at Paris to a pastry-cook’s child, which was discovered to be pregnant at nine years of age.[93] The girl being very sick with her pregnancy, and her father having taken a specimen of her urine to a physician, the latter said at once she had no other sickness but only that she was with child. “What!” cried the father; “Why, Sir! my daughter is only nine years old.” Who so astonished as the doctor? “’Tis all one,” said he; “of a surety, she is with child.” And after examining her more closely, he did indeed find her so. The child afterward confessing with whom she had had to do, her gallant was condemned to death by the judges, for having gone with her at so very tender an age. I much regret I have come to give this example and mention the thing here, seeing I had made up my mind not to sully my paper with suchlike mean folk, but to deal only with great and well-born persons.

Herein I have somewhat gone wide of my purpose, but the story being so rare and uncommon, I must e’en be excused.

This doth remind me of a tale of a brave and gallant Lord if ever there was one, since dead, which was one day making complaint of the amplitude of women’s affairs with whom he had had to do, as well maids as married ladies. He declared ’twould come to his having to look for mere children, just come from the cradle so to speak, so as not to find so wide a space of open sea as he had done with the rest, but get better pleasure by swimming in a narrow strait. An if he had addressed these words to a certain great and honourable dame I do know, she would have made him the same answer she did to another gentleman of the great world, to whom, on his making a like complaint, she did retort thus: “I wot not which hath better cause of complaint, you men of our width and over amplitude, or we women of your tenuity and over smallness, or rather your tiny, tiny littleness; truly we have as much to lament in you as ever you in us.”

The lady was right enough in what she said. Similarly another great lady, one day at Court looking curiously at the great bronze Hercules in the fountain at Fontainebleau, as she was a-walking with an honourable gentleman which did escort her, his hand beneath her arm, did complain that the said Hercules, albeit excellently well wrought and figured otherwise, was not so well proportioned in all his members as should be, forasmuch as his middle parts were far too small and out of proper measure, in no wise corresponding to his huge colossus of a body. The gentleman replied he did not agree with what she said, for ’twas to be supposed that in those days ladies were not so wide as at the present.

A very great lady and noble Princess[94] learning how that certain folk had given her name to a huge great culverin, did ask the reason why. Whereupon one present answered: “’Tis for this, Madam, because it hath a calibre greater and wider than all the rest.”

Si est-ce pourtant qu’elles y ont trouvé assez de remède, et en trouvent tous les jours assez pour rendre leurs portes plus étroites, carrées et plus malaisées d’entrée; dont aucunes en usent, et d’autres non; mais nonobstant, quand le chemin y est bien battu et frayé souvent par continuelle habitation et fréquentation, ou passages d’enfants, les ouvertures de plusieurs en sont toujours plus grandes et plus larges. Je me suis là un peu perdu et dévoyé; mais puisque ç’a été à propos il n’y a point de mal, et je retourne à mon chemin.

Many other young girls there be which let safely pass this early, tender, sappy time of life, waiting a greater maturity and dryness, whether because they be naturally cold at first beginning and start, or that they be kept close guarded, as is very needful with some. Others there be so steadfast, the winds and tempests of winter would avail naught to shake or stir them. Others again be so foolish and simple-minded, so raw and ignorant, as that they would not so much as hear the name of love. So have I heard of a woman which did affect the virtuous prude, that an if she did hear the word harlot mentioned, she would instantly faint. A friend telling this story to a certain great Lord in presence of his wife, the latter did exclaim: “She’d better not come here, that woman; for if she doth faint to hear speak of whores, she’ll die right out to see one.”

On the other hand there be some girls which from the first moment they begin to feel they have a heart, grow so tame they will eat from the hand at once. Others be so devout and scrupulous, fearing so sore the commandments of the Lord our God, that they do quite neglect that of love. Yet have I seen many of these same devout patterers of prayers, these women that be forever a-kissing of images and all but living in churches, which did under this hypocritical veil cover and conceal the fire of their passions, to the end that by such false and feigned semblance the world might perceive never a trace of them, but deem them perfect prudes, or even half way to being saints like St. Catherine of Sienna, by the which professions they have often succeeded in deceiving all mankind. Thus have I heard it related of a very great Princess, a Queen indeed, now dead, who when she was fain to make love to any man, (for she was exceeding given that way), would invariably begin her conversation with the love we do owe to God, and then suddenly bring it round to carnal love, and what she did want of her interlocutor, whereof she did before long come to the practice or quintessential part. This is how these devotees, or bigots rather, do cajole us men; such of us that is as be not well versed in wiles of the sort and know not life.

I have heard a tale, though I wot not if it be true. Anyway of late years, on occasion of a general procession at a certain city, was seen a woman, well born or not, bare-footed and in great contrition, playing the penitent with might and main,—and it was in Lent. Straight from there she hied her away to dine with her lover on a quarter of kid and a ham. The savour did penetrate to the street, and going up to her chamber, folk found her in the midst of this glorious feast. She was arrested and condemned to be led through the town with the joint on a spit over her shoulder and the ham hanging at her neck. Was not this a meet and proper punishment?

Other ladies there be so proud and haughty they do scorn heaven and earth in a way of speaking, and utterly snub and reject men and all their offers. But for such all that is need is to wait and have patience and perseverance, for with these and time you do surely subdue them and find them humble enough at last, for ’tis the property of highmindedness and pride, after much swelling and exaltation, presently to come down and bate its lofty claims. And with these same proud dames, I have seen many instances where after scorning love and all that spake to them thereof, they have given in and loved like any others, or have even wedded husbands of mean estate and in no way their equals. Thus doth Love make mock of them and punish them for their hard-heartedness, taking especial delight in attacking them more than other folk, forasmuch as the victory is then a prouder one, as vanquishing pride.

I knew erstwhile a Court damsel, so proud and scornful that when some gallant man of the world would come to address her and speak of love, she would ever answer him so haughtily and with so great contempt, in words so fierce and arrogant (for she had a gift of speech as good as any), that presently they did cease altogether. But an if any did chance now and again still to try and vanquish her pride, ’twas a sight how she would snub them and send them packing with words and looks and scornful gestures; for she was very clever at this game. In the end Love did surprise and sore punish her, for she gave in to one which did get her with child some score of days only before her marriage; yet was this lover in no wise to be compared with many other honourable gentlemen which had aforetime been fain to be her suitors. Herein we can only say with Horace, sic placet Veneri, “such is Venus’ pleasure,”—for these be miracles.

’Twas my humour once while at Court to be lover to a fair and honorable damsel, accomplished and expert if ever woman was, and of a very good house, but proud and highhanded; and I was very much smit with her indeed. I did make up my mind to court her, but alway to deal with her in the same arrogant spirit she did use in her words and answers to me,—as the proverb saith, “When Greek meets Greek.” Yet did she show no resentment for all this, for indeed, all the while I was treating her so cavalierly, I was used to praise her exceedingly, seeing there is naught doth more soften a woman’s heart than commendation whether of her beauty and charms or of her proud spirit, even declaring how that her port did much become her, forasmuch as she kept her from all common familiarity, and that any woman, damsel or dame, which did make her too common and familiar, not maintaining a haughty port and high repute, was not worthy to be so courted. For all which I did but respect her the more, and would never call her by any other name but my lady Disdain. Whereat she was so well pleased she did herself likewise choose to call me always Master Arrogance.

So ever continuing, I did court her long and faithfully; and I may boast me I had as large a share of her good graces as any great Lord at Court which did care to court her, or larger. However a chief favourite of the King, a brave and gallant gentleman without a doubt, did take her from me, and by favour of his King did win and marry her. Natheless, so long as she did live, the connection was ever kept up betwixt us, and I have always honoured her well. I know not an if I shall be blamed for having told this tale, for ’tis a common saying that all tales about a man’s self be bad. Anyway I have let it out this time; as indeed throughout my book I have related not a few stories of myself in divers relations, though I do generally suppress the name.

Other girls there be again of so merry a complexion and so lighthearted, so devoted to amusement and enjoyment, they never have another thought in their heads but to laugh, and make sport and pastime, and never time to hear or dream of anything else but only their little amusements. I have known many such which had rather hear a fiddle play, or dance or leap or run, than hearken to any love discourse whatsoever; while other some do so adore the chase they should better be called servants of Diana than of Venus. I did once know a brave and valiant Lord, since dead, which fell so deep in love with a maid, and a great lady to boot, that he was like to die; “for whenas I am fain,” he used to say, “to declare my passion, she doth answer me never a word but about her dogs and her hunting. I would to heaven I were metamorphosed into a hunting-dog or greyhound, and my soul entered in their body, according to Pythagoras’ opinion, to the end she might give some heed to my love, and I be healed of my wound.” Yet afterward did he leave her, for he was not good lackey or huntsman enough to go everywhere a-following her about, wherever her lusty humours, her pleasures and amusements might lead her.

Yet must we note one fact. Maids of this sort, after leaving their chickenhood behind and outgrowing the pip, (as we say of poultry), having taken their fill of these childish amusements, do always come, at long last, to essay a woman’s pleasures too. Such young girls do resemble little wolf-cubs, which be so pretty, engaging and playful in their downy youth; yet being come to maturity, they do ever take to evil courses and ravening and killing. The sort of girls I am speaking of do ever the like, who after much sport and youthful merriment, after pleasures of all kinds, hunting, dancing, leaping, skipping and jigging, do always, I ween, indulge at last in dame Venus’ gentle sport. In a word, to put it briefly, scarce ever a one of the sex is seen, maid, wife or widow, but sooner or later she and all her sisters do burn, in season or out of season,—as do all woods, excepting only one, yclept the larix, the which they do in no wise resemble.

Now this Larix is a wood which will never burn, and maketh neither fire, flame nor ash, as Julius Cæsar did find. On his return back from Gaul, he had ordered the inhabitants of Piedmont to furnish him vivers, and establish magazines on his main line of march. He was duly obeyed, except by the garrison of a castle called Larignum, whither had withdrawn certain ill-disposed rascals, recusants and rebels, the result being Cæsar had to turn back and besiege the place. Coming nigh the fortress, he saw its defences were only of wood, whereat he did straightway make mock, deeming they would immediately take the same. Wherefore he did give orders at once to collect large plenty of fagots and straw to set fire to the bulwarks, and soon was there so huge a conflagration and mass of flame that all hoped soon to see the ruin and destruction of the fort. But lo! whenas the fire was burned out and the flame disappeared, all were exceeding astonished, for they beheld the stronghold in the same state as before and quite unhurt, neither burned nor ruined one whit. This did compel Cæsar to resort to other means, mining to wit, which did at last bring those within to come to terms and render up the place. From this Cæsar did learn the virtues of this larix-wood, from the which the castle had its name of Larignum, because it was built and defended of the same.

I ween there be many fathers, mothers, kinsmen and husbands, that would dearly like their daughters and wives should share the properties of this wood, that they should burn fiercely without its leaving mark or effect behind. They would have a far more unruffled mind and not so many suspicions a-buzzing in their heads, nor would there be so many whores on show nor cuckolds before the world. But ’tis not really desirable in any shape or form, for the world would be clean depopulated, and folk would live therein like blocks of stone, without pleasure or satisfaction. So many persons I wot of, of either sex, would say; and indeed Nature would be left imperfect, instead of very perfect as she is. Following her kindly lead as our best captain, we need never fear to lose the right path.

ARTICLE III

OF THE LOVE OF WIDOWS

1.

Well! enough said of maids; ’tis but right we now proceed to speak of widows in their turn.

The love of widows is good, easy and advantageous, seeing they be in full liberty of action, and in no sense slaves of fathers, mothers, brothers, kinsmen and husbands, nor yet of any legal bar, a still more important point. A man may make love and lie with a widow as much as ever he please, he is liable to no penalty, as he is with maids or married women. In fact the Romans, which people hath given us the most of the laws we have, did never make this act punishable, either in person or property. I have this from a great lawyer, who did cite Papinian for confirmation of the point, that great Roman jurisconsult, who treating of adultery declares; if occasionally under this term adultery hath been inadvertently included lawless intercourse with maid or widow, ’tis a misuse of words. In another passage the same authority saith: the heir hath no right of reproach or concern with the character of the deceased man’s widow, except only if the deceased had in his lifetime brought action against his wife on this ground; then could the said heir take up and carry on the prosecution, but not otherwise. And as a fact in all the whole of Roman law is no penalty ordained for the widow, except only for one that did marry again within the year of her mourning, or who without re-marrying had borne a child subsequently to the eleventh month of her first year of widowhood, this first year being deemed sacred to the honour of her former husband. There was likewise a law made by Heliogabalus, that no widow must marry again for one year after the death of her husband, to the end she might have due leisure to bewail his loss and deliberate carefully on the choice of a successor. A truly paternal law, and an excellent reason i’ faith! As for a widow’s original dowry, the heir could not in any case rob her thereof, even though she should have given her person to every possible form of naughtiness. And for this my authority did allege a very good reason; for the heir having no other thought but only the property, if once a door were opened to him to accuse the widow in hope of making her forfeit this and so rob her of her dowry, she would be exposed at once to every calumny his malignity could invent. So there would be never a widow, no matter how virtuous and unoffending, could safeguard her from slanderous actions on the part of enterprising heirs.