Saint Jerome in a letter he wrote to one Principia, a virgin, doth celebrate the praises of a gentle Roman lady of his time, which was named Marcella, of a good and noble house, and sprung from a countless line of consuls, pro-consuls, Praetors, and one that had been left a widow very young. She was much sought after, both for her youth and for the antiquity of her house, as well as for her lovely figure, the which did singularly entrance the will of men (so saith Saint Jerome, using these very words; note his observation), and her seemly mien and virtuous character. Among other suitors was a rich and high-born Roman Lord, likewise of Consular rank, and by name Cerealis, which did eagerly seek to persuade her to give him her hand in second marriage. Being something far stricken in years, he did promise her great wealth and superb gifts as chiefest advantage in the match. Above all her mother, Albina by name, did strongly urge her to the marriage, thinking it an excellent offer and one not lightly to be refused. But she made answer: “An if I had any wish to throw myself in the water and entangle me in the bonds of a second marriage, and not rather vow me to a second chastity, yet would I fain prefer to get me an husband rather an inheritance.” Then, the lover deeming she had said this with an eye to his advanced age, he made reply: that old folk might very well live long, and young ones die early. But she retorted: “True, the young may die early, but an old man cannot live long.” At which word he did take umbrage, and so left her. I find this fair lady’s saying admirable and her resolve most commendable.
Not less so was that of Martia, named above, whose behaviour was not so open to reproof as that of her sister Portia. For the latter, after the death of her husband, did determine to live no longer, but kill herself. Then all instruments of iron being removed, wherewith she might have taken her life, she did swallow live coals, and so burned all her inwards, declaring that for a brave woman means can never be lacking whereby to contrive her death. This hath been well told by Martial in one of his Epigrams, writ expressly on this lady’s fate, and a fine poem it is. Yet did she not, according to certain philosophers, and in especial Aristotle in his Ethics, (speaking of courage or fortitude) show herein any high degree of courage or magnanimity in killing herself, as many others have done, and her own husband; for that, to avoid a greater ill, they do throw themselves upon the less. On this point I have writ a discourse elsewhere.
Be this as it may, ’twould surely have been better, had this same Portia rather devoted her days to mourning her husband and avenging his death than in contriving her own. For this did serve no good end whatsoever, except mayhap a gratification of her own pique, as I have heard some women say in blame of her action. Natheless for myself, I cannot enough commend her, and all other widows, which do show their love for their dead husbands as lively as in their lifetime. And this is why Saint Paul hath so highly praised and commended them, holding this doctrine of his great Master. Yet have I been taught of some of the most clear sighted and most eloquent persons I know, that beautiful young widows which do remain in that condition in the very flower of their sweet age and heyday of their life, do exercise an over great cruelty upon themselves and nature, so to conspire against their own selves, and refuse to taste again the gentle joys of a second marriage. This much doth divine law no less than human allow them, as well as nature, youth and beauty; yet must they needs abstain in obedience to some vow and obstinate resolve, the which they have fantastically determined in their silly heads to keep to the vain and empty simulacra of their husbands, that standing like sentinels forgot in the other world, and dwelling yonder in the Elysian fields, be either altogether careless of them and their doings or mayhap do but deride the same. On this question generally all such dames should refer them to the eloquent remonstrances and excellent arguments the which Anna doth bring forward to her sister Dido, in the Fourth Book of the Aeneid. These be most excellent for to teach a fair young widow not over sternly to swear a vow of never altering her condition, rather out of bigotry than real religion. An if after their husbands’ death, they should be crowned with fair chaplets of flowers or herbs, as was the custom of yore, and as is still done with young maids in our day, this triumph would be good and creditable while it lasted, and not of over long duration. But now all that may be given them, is a few words of admiration, the which do vanish into air so soon as spoken and perish as quick as the dead man’s corse. Well then, let all fair young widows recognise the world and its claims, since they be of it still, and leave religion to old women and the strait rule to perpetual widowhood.
7.
Well! enough said of widows which go fasting. ’Tis time now to speak of another sort, to wit those which detesting all vows and abnegations against second marriages, do wed again and once more claim the aid of the gentle and agreeable God Hymen. Of such there be some which, over fond of their admirers during their husband’s life, be already dreaming of another match before these be well dead, planning aforehand betwixt them and their lovers the sort of life they will lead together: “Ah, me! an if mine husband were but dead,” they say, “we would do this, we would do that; we would live after this pleasant fashion, we would arrange it after that,—and all so discreetly none should ever suspect our bygone loves. A right merry life we would have of it then; we would go to Paris, to Court, and bear us so wisely naught should ever do us hurt. You would pay court to such and such a great lady, I to such and such a great nobleman; we would get this from the King, and that. We would get our children provided with tutors and guardians, and have never a care for their property and governance. Rather would we be making our fortunes, or else enjoying theirs, pending their coming of age. We would have plenishing enough, with that of mine husband to boot; the last for sure we could not lack, for I wot well where be the title deeds and good crown pieces. In a word, who so happy as we should be?”—and so on and so on.
Such the fine words and pleasant plans these wives do indulge in to their lovers by anticipation. Some of them do only kill their husbands in wishes, words, hopes and longings; but others there be that do actually haste them on the way to the tomb, if they be over laggard. Cases of this sort have been, and are yet to-day, more plenty before our Courts of Law and Parliaments than any would suppose. But verily ’tis better and more agreeable they do not as did a certain Spanish dame. For being ill treated of her husband, she did kill him, and afterward herself, having first writ this epitaph following, which she left on the table in her closet, indited in her own hand:
Aqui yaze qui a buscado una muger,
Y con ella casado, no l’ha podido hazer muger,
A las otras, no a mi, cerca mi, dava contentamiento,
Y pore este, y su flaqueza y atrevimiento,