The gentleman, knowing how well she stood with her mistress, sought to soothe her, but he found it impossible to do so; for, leaving him where he stood, she furiously betook herself to her mistress, who, loving Jambicque as she did herself, left all the company to come and speak with her, and, on finding her in such great wrath, inquired of her what the matter was. Thereupon Jambicque, who had no wish to hide it, related all the gentleman’s discourse, and this she did so much to the unhappy man’s disadvantage, that on the very same evening his mistress commanded him to withdraw forthwith to his own home without speaking with anyone and to stay there until he should be sent for. And this he did right speedily, for fear of worse. (4)
4 It has been mentioned in note 2 that the gentleman in
question was Brantôme’s uncle La Chastaigneraye. Born,
according to most accounts, in 1520, Francis de Vivonne,
Lord of La Chastaigneraye, was a godson of Francis I., and
early displayed marked skill and prowess in all bodily
exercises and feats of arms. He was, however, of a very
quarrelsome disposition, and had several duels. A dispute
arising between him and Guy de Chabot, Lord of Jarnac, they
solicited permission to fight, but Francis I. would not
accord it, and it was only after the accession of Henry II.
that the encounter took place. The spot fixed upon was the
park of St. Germain-en-Laye, and the King and the whole
Court were present (July 10, 1547)—In the result, La
Chastaigneraye was literally ham-strung by a back-thrust
known to this day as the coup de Jarnac. The victor
thereupon begged the King to accept his adversary’s life and
person, and Henry, after telling Jamac that “he had fought
like Cæsar and spoken like Cicero,” caused La Chastaigneraye
to be carried to his tent that his wound might be dressed.
Deeply humiliated by his defeat, however, the vanquished
combatant tore off his bandages and bled to death.—Ed.
So long as Jambicque dwelt with her mistress, the gentleman returned not to the Princess’s house, nor did he ever have tidings of her who had vowed to him that he should lose her as soon as he might seek her out. (5)
5 After referring to this tale Brantôme adds that he had
heard tell of another Court lady who was minded to imitate
Jambicque, but who, “every time she returned from her
assignation, went straight to her room, and let one of her
serving maids examine her on all sides to see if she were
marked. By this means she guarded herself against being
surprised and recognised, and indeed was never marked until
at her ninth assignation, when the mark was at once
discovered by her women. And thereupon, for fear of scandal
and opprobrium, she broke off her intrigue and never more
returned to the appointed spot. Some one said ‘twould have
been better if she had let her lover mark her as often as he
liked, and each time have had his marks effaced, for in this
wise she would have reaped a double pleasure—contentment in
love and satisfaction at duping her lover, who, like he who
seeks the Philosopher’s Stone, would have toiled hard to
discover and identify her, without ever succeeding in doing
so.”—(Lalanne’s OEuvres de Brantôme, pp. 236-8).—M.
“By this tale, ladies, you may see how one who preferred the world’s esteem to a good conscience lost both the one and the other. For now may the eyes of all men read what she strove to hide from those of her lover, and so, whilst fleeing the derision of one, she has incurred the derision of all. Nor can she be held excused on the score of simplicity and artless love, for which all men should have pity, but she must be condemned twice over for having concealed her wickedness with the twofold cloak of honour and glory, and for making herself appear before God and man other than she really was. He, however, who gives not His glory to another, took this cloak from off her and so brought her to double shame.”
“Her wickedness,” said Oisille, “was without excuse. None can defend her when God, Honour, and even Love are her accusers.”
“Nay,” said Hircan, “Pleasure and Folly may; they are the true chief advocates of the ladies.”
“If we had no other advocates,” said Parlamente, “than those you name, our cause would indeed be ill supported; but those who are vanquished by pleasure ought no longer to be called women but rather men, whose reputation is merely exalted by frenzy and lust. When a man takes vengeance upon his enemy and slays him for giving him the lie, he is deemed all the more honourable a gentleman for it; and so, too, when he loves a dozen women besides his own wife. But the reputation of women has a different foundation, that, namely, of gentleness, patience and chastity.”
“You speak of the discreet,” said Hircan.
“Yes,” returned Parlamente, “because I will know none others.”