Lives of Fair and Gallant Ladies. Vol 2.

by Pierre de Bourdeille Brantôme

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,[122*] 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,[123*] 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.