| PAGE | ||
Introduction. By Georg Harsdörfer | [vii] | ||
FIFTH DISCOURSE | |||
Telling How Fair and Honorable Ladies Do Love Brave and Valiant Men, and Brave Men Courageous Women | [3] | ||
SIXTH DISCOURSE | |||
Of How We Should Never Speak Ill of Ladies, and of the Consequences of So Doing | [91] | ||
SEVENTH DISCOURSE | |||
Concerning Married Women, Widows and Maids: to Wit, Which of These Same Be Better Than the Other to Love | [151] | ||
| Article | I. | Of the Love of Married Women | [156] |
| Article | II. | Of the Love of Maids | [171] |
| Article | III. | Of the Love of Widows | [203] |
Notes | [335] | ||
INTRODUCTION
The Mondragola of Machiavelli, which reflects Italian morals at the time of the Renaissance, is well known. Lafontaine has later made use of this motif in one of his humorous stories. In the fourth chapter Liguro arrays in battle order an officer, a valet and a doctor, for a humorous love expedition. Liguro says: “In the right corner we shall place Callimaque; I shall place myself in the extreme left corner, and the doctor in the middle. He will be called St. Cuckold.”
An interlocutor: “Who is this Saint?”
“The greatest Saint of France.”
This question and the answer given are delicious. Brantôme might have made this witticism even in his time. Perhaps he merely did not write it down, for after all he could not make too extensive use of his favorite play with the word “cocu.”
“The cuckold, the greatest Saint of France”; this might have been the motto of the “Dames Galantes.” Philarete Chasles would have denied this, of course. He always maintained that Gaul was pure and chaste, and that if France was full of vice, it had merely been infected by neighboring peoples. But this worthy academician was well informed merely regarding Italian influence. He was extremely unaware of the existence of the cuckold in the sixteenth century. He even asserts in the strongest terms (in his preface to the edition of 1834) that all of this had not been so serious; the courtiers had merely desired to be immoral in an elegant fashion. He even calls Brantôme “un fanfaron de licence,” a braggart of vice. Indeed he would feel unhappy if he could not reassure us: “Quand il se plonge dans les impuretes, c’est, croyez-moi, pure fanfaronnade de vice.” Who would not smile at this worthy academician who has remained so unfamiliar with the history of his kings? His “believe me” sounds very well. But the best is yet to come. The book of the “Dames Galantes” was by no means to be considered merely a frivolous collection of scandalous anecdotes, but a “curious historical document.”
There will probably always be a difference of opinion regarding Brantôme’s position in the history of civilization. It will probably be impossible to change the judgments of the ordinary superficial reader. But we do not wish to dispose of Brantôme as simply as that. It is very easy for a Puritan to condemn him. But we must seek to form a fairer judgment. Now in order to overcome this difficulty, it is, of course, very tempting simply to proclaim his importance for the history of civilization and to put him on the market as such. This would not be wrong, but this method has been used altogether too freely, both properly and improperly. Besides, Brantôme is too good to be labelled in this manner. He does not need it either, he is of sufficient historical importance even without its being pointed out. The question now arises: From what point of view are we then to comprehend Brantôme? We could answer, from the time in which he lived. But that, speaking in such general terms, is a commonplace. It is not quite correct either. For in spite of the opinions of the educated we must clearly distinguish between Brantôme as an author and Brantôme as a man—and we shall hear more of this bold anarchistic personality, who almost throws his chamberlain’s key back at the king. This is another striking case where the author must by no means be identified with his book. These events might have passed through another person’s mind; they would have remained the same nevertheless. For Brantôme did not originate them, he merely chronicled them. Now it usually happens that things are attributed to an author of which he is entirely innocent (does not Society make an author pay for his confessions in book-form?). He is even charged with a crime when he merely reports such events. The responsibility which Brantôme must bear for his writings is greatly to be limited. And if our educated old maids simply refuse to be reconciled with his share we need merely tell them that this share is completely neutralized by his own personal life.