Lives of Fair and Gallant Ladies/Volume II/Seventh Discourse Art. III.8
8.
ÆSAR BORGIA, Duc de Valentinois, was he not first of all a Cardinal, the same which afterward was so great a Captain that Macchiavelli, the venerable instructor of Princes and great folk, doth set him down for example and mirror to all his fellows, to follow after and mould them on him? Then we have had the famous Marechal de Foix, which was first a Churchman and known as the Protonotary de Foix, but afterward became a great Captain. The Maréchal Strozzi likewise was first vowed to holy Church; but for a red hat which was refused him, did quit the cassock and take to arms. M. de Salvoison, of whom I have spoke before (which did follow close at the former's heels, and was as fit as he to bear the title of great Captain,—and indeed would have marched side by side with him, an if he had been of as great a house, and kinsman of the Queen), was, by original profession, a wearer of the long robe; yet what a soldier was he! Truly he would have been beyond compare, if only he had lived longer. Then the Maréchal de Bellegarde, did he not carry the lawyer cap, being long named the Provost of Ours? The late M. d'Enghien, the same that fell at the battle of St. Quentin, had been a Bishop; the Chevalier de Bonnivet the same. Likewise that gallant soldier M. de Martigues had been of the Church; and, in brief, an host of others, whose names I cannot spare paper to fill in. I must say a word too of mine own people, and not without good cause. Captain Bourdeille, mine own brother, erst the Rodomont of Piedmont in all ways, was first dedicate to the Church. But not finding that to be his natural bent, he did change his cassock for a soldier's jacket, and in a turn of the hand did make him one of the best and most valiant captains in all Piedmont. He would for sure have become a great and famous man, had he not died, alas! at only five and twenty years of age.
In our own day and at our own Court of France, we have seen many such, and above all our little friend, the noble Clermont-Tallard, whom I had seen as Abbé of Bon-Port, but who afterward leaving his Abbey, was seen in our army and at Court, one of the bravest, most valiant and worthy men of the time. This he did show right well by his glorious death at La Rochelle, the very first time we did enter the fosse of that fortress. I could name a thousand such, only I should never have done. M. de Soleillas,[1] known as the young Oraison, had been Bishop of Riez and after had a regiment, serving his King right faithfully and valiantly in Guienne, under the Maréchal de Matignon.
In short I should never have done, an if I were for enumerating all such cases. Wherefore I do stop, both for brevity's sake, and also for fear I be reproached for that I indulge overmuch in digressions. Yet is this one not inopportune I have made, when speaking of Vittoria Colonna which did marry the Abbé. An if she had not married again with him, she had better deserved her name and title of Vittoria, by being victorious over herself. Seeing she could not find a second husband to match the first, she should have refrained her altogether.
I have known many ladies which have copied her however. One I knew did marry one of mine uncles, the most brave, valiant and perfect gentleman of his time. After his death, she did marry another as much like him as an ass to a Spanish charger; but 'twas mine uncle was the Spanish steed. Another lady I knew once, which had wedded a Marshal of France, a handsome, honourable gentleman and a valiant; in second wedlock she did take one in every way his opposite, and one that had been a Churchman too. What was yet more blameworthy in her was this, that on going to Court, where she had not appeared for twenty years, not indeed since her second marriage, she did re-adopt the name and title of her first husband. This is a matter our courts of law and parliament should look into and legislate against; for I have seen an host of others which have done the like, herein unduly scorning their later husbands, and showing them unwilling to bear their name after their death. For having committed the fault, why! they should drink the cup to the dregs and feel themselves bound by what they have done.
Another widow I once knew, on her husband's dying, did make such sore lamentation and so despairing by the space of a whole year, that 'twas hourly expected to see her dead right off. At the end of a year, when she was to leave off her heavy mourning and take to the lighter, she said to one of her women: "Prithee, pull me in that crêpe becomingly; for mayhap I may make another conquest." But immediately she did interrupt herself: "Nay! what am I talking about? I am dreaming. Better die than have anything more to do with such follies." Yet after her mourning was complete, she did marry again to a husband very unequal to the first. "But,"—and this is what these women always say,—"he was of as good family as the other." Yes! I admit it; but then, what of virtue and worth? are not these more worth counting than all else? The best I find in it all is this, that the match once made, their joy therein is far from long; for God doth allow them to be properly ill-treated of their new lords and bullied. Soon you will see them all repentance,—when it is too late.
These dames which do thus re-marry have some opinion or fancy in their heads we wot not of. So have I heard speak of a Spanish lady, which desiring to marry again, when they did remonstrate with her, asking what was to become of the fond love her husband had borne her, did make answer: La muerte del marido y nuevo casamiento no han de romper el amor d' una casta muger,—"The death of husband and a new marriage should in no wise break up the love of a good woman." Well! so much shall be granted, an if you please. Another Spanish dame said better, when they were for marrying her again: Si hallo un marido bueno, no quiero tener el temor de perderlo; y si malo, que necessidad he del,—"An if I find a good husband, I wish not to be exposed to the fear of losing him; but if a bad, what need to have one at all?" Valeria, a Roman lady, having lost her husband, whenas some of her companions were condoling with her on his loss and death, said thus to them: " 'Tis too true he is dead for you all, but he liveth in me for ever." The fair Marquise I have spoke of a little above, had borrowed a like phrase from her. These expressions of these noble ladies do differ much from what a Spanish ill-wisher of the sex declared, to wit: que la jornada de la biudez d' una muger es d' un dia,—"that the day of a woman's widowhood is one day long." A lady I must now tell of did much worse. This was Madame de Moneins, whose husband was King's lieutenant, and was massacred at Bordeaux, by the common folk in a salt-excise riot. So soon as ever news was brought her that her husband had been killed and had met the fate he did, she did straight cry out: "Alas! my diamond, what hath become of it?" This she had given him by way of marriage present, being worth ten to twelve hundred crowns of the money of the day, and he was used to wear it always on his finger. By this exclamation she did let folk plainly see which grief she did bear the more hardly, the loss of her husband or that of the diamond.
Madame d'Estampes was a high favourite with King Francis, and for that cause little loved of her husband. Once when some widow or other came to her asking her pity for her widowed state, "Why! dear heart," said she, "you are only too happy in your condition, for I tell you, one cannot be a widow by wishing for't,"—as if implying she would love to be one. Some women be so situate, others not.
But what are we to say of widows which do keep their marriage hid, and will not have it published? One such I knew, which did keep hers under press for more than seven or eight years, without ever consenting to get it printed and put in circulation. 'Twas said she did so out of terror of her son, as yet only a youth, but afterward one of the bravest and most honourable men in all the world, lest he should play the deuce with her and her man, albeit he was of very high rank. But so soon as ever her son fell in a warlike engagement, dying so as to win a crown of glory, she did at once have her marriage printed off and published abroad.
I have heard of another widow, a great lady, which was married to a very great nobleman and Prince, more than fifteen years agone. Yet doth the world know nor hear aught thereof, so secret and discreet is it kept. Report saith the Prince was afeared of his mother-in-law, which was very imperious with him, and was most unwilling he should marry again because of his young children.
I knew another very great lady, which died but a short while agone, having been married to a simple gentleman for more than twenty years, without its being known at all, except by mere gossip and hearsay. Ho! but there be some queer cases of the sort!
I have heard it stated by a lady of a great and ancient house, how that the late Cardinal du Bellay was wedded, being then Bishop and Cardinal, to Madame de Chastillon, and did die a married man. This she did declare in a conversation she held with M. de Mane, a Provençal, of the house of Senjal and Bishop of Fréjus, which had served the said Cardinal for fifteen years at the Court of Rome, and had been one of his privy protonotaries.
Well! happening to speak of the Cardinal, she did ask M. de Mane if he had ever told him or confessed to him that he was married. Who so astounded as M. de Mane at such a question? He is yet alive and can contradict me, if I lie; for I was present. He made answer he had never heard him speak of it, either to him or to others. "Well, then! I am the first to tell you," she replied; "for nothing is more true than that he was so married; and he died actually the husband of the said Madame de Chastillon, before a widow." I can assure you I had a fine laugh, seeing the astonished face of poor M. de Mane, who was a very careful and religious man, and thought he knew every secret of his late master; but he was out of court for this one. And indeed 'twas a scandalous license on the Cardinal's part, considering the sacred office he held.
This Madame de Chastillon was the widow of the late M. de Chastillon, the same which was said to chiefly govern the young King Charles VIII. along with Bourdillon, Galiot and Bonneval, the guardians of the blood royal. He died at Ferrara, having been wounded at the siege of Ravenna, and carried thither to be healed. She became a widow when very young, being both fair and also wise and virtuous,—albeit but in appearance, as witness this marriage of hers,—and so was chosen maid of honour to the late Queen of Navarre. She it was that did tender the excellent advice to this noble lady and great Princess, which is writ in the Cent Nouvelles of the said Queen. The tale is of her and a certain gentleman which had slipped by night into her bed by a little trap-door in the wainscot beside her bed, and was fain to enjoy the reward of his address; yet did win naught but some fine scratches on his pretty face. The Queen being purposed to make complaint of the matter to her brother, he did remonstrate with her very judiciously, as may be read in the Nouvelle or Tale in question, and did give her the excellent advice referred to, as good and judicious and as well adapted to avoid scandal as could possibly be devised. Indeed it might have been a First President of the Parliament of Paris that gave the advice, which did show plainly, however, the lady to be no less skilled and experienced in such mysteries than wise and judicious; wherefore there can be little doubt she did keep her affair with the Cardinal right well hidden.
My grandmother, the Seneschale de Poitou, had her place after her death, by choice of King Francis himself, which did name and elect her to the post, sending all the way to her home to summon her. Then he did give her over with his own hand to the Queen his sister, forasmuch as he knew her to be a very prudent and very virtuous lady,—indeed he was used to call her my knight without reproach,—albeit not so experienced, adroit and cunning in suchlike matters as her predecessor, nor one that had contracted a second marriage under the rose. But an if you would know who are intended in the Tale, 'twas writ of the Queen of Navarre herself and the Admiral de Bonnivet, as I have been assured by my grandmother. Yet doth it appear to me the Queen need never have been at pains to conceal her name, seeing the other could get no hold over her virtue, but did leave her all in confusion. Indeed she was only too wishful to make the facts public, had it not been for the good and wise advice given her by that same maid of honour, Madame de Chastillon. Anyone that hath read the Tale will find it as I have represented it. And I do believe that the Cardinal, her husband as aforesaid, which was one of the cleverest and wisest, most eloquent, learned and well-advised men of his day, had instilled this discreetness in her mind, to make her speak so well and give such excellent counsel. The tale might mayhap be thought somewhat over scandalous by some in view of the sacred and priestly profession of the Cardinal; but, an if any be fain to repeat the same, well! he must e'en suppress the name.
Well! if this marriage was kept secret, 'twas by no means so with that of the last Cardinal de Chastillon. For indeed he did divulge and make it public quite enough himself, without need to borrow any trumpet; and did die a married man, without ever having quitted his gown and red hat. On the one hand he did excuse himself by alleging the reformed faith, whereof he was a firm adherent; on the other by the contention that he was desirous of still retaining his rank and not giving up the same (a thing he would most surely never have done in any case), so as he might continue of the council, whereof being a member he could well serve his faith and party. For 'tis very true he was a most able, influential and very powerful personage.
I do imagine the aforenamed noble Cardinal du Bellay may have done the like for like reasons. For at that time he was no little inclined to the faith and doctrine of Luther, and indeed the Court of France generally was somewhat affected by the taint. The fact is, all novelties be pleasing at first, and beside, the said doctrine did open an agreeable license to all men, and especially to ecclesiastics, to enter the married state.