DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.63221#0031
THE RENAISSANCE IN FRANCE
5
times in a new building the slenderest battlements crown
an enchanted palace, like a delicate apology to the past;
sometimes a sixteenth-century wing, richly carved, is added
to an old fortress; or the past is altogether extinguished
in the sumptuous grace of the present.
Every one of them evokes visions. From the gates of
Blois and Chaumont there wind cavalcades, riding forth to
the hunt in the forest: the ladies on their jewelled horses,
some of them astride, dressed in green and scarlet and
little caps with plumes—the men in the slashes and diamonds
and golden taffeta of their day; or—when Chivalry was
revived for a Court game—in the suits of ancient knights,
well versed in Provencal ceremonies of the Courts of Love.
They are probably singing Marot’s fashionable Psalms set
to popular tunes, as they amble along after the King, fol-
lowed by a city of silken tents.
Oi’ it is the moonlight wedding of the Duke of Urbino
at Amboise, “ qui fut merveilleusement triomphante .... et
fut danse et balle le possible.” Seventy-two damsels, dis-
guised like Germans and Italians, accompany the minstrels
with tambourines; torches make a light as bright as day;
princes and peers are the dancers. The Pavane is the
measure they are treading, and they hold the hands
of laughing ladies whose dresses are stiff with gems: whose
manners are the strangest mixture of royal etiquette
and reckless easiness. They dance till morning—they
are never tired. All day they amuse themselves by watch-
ing from their marble balcony the siege of the mock city
that was built for the occasion; or by commenting on the
skill and prowess with which the Jeunesse doree (Francois, Due
5
times in a new building the slenderest battlements crown
an enchanted palace, like a delicate apology to the past;
sometimes a sixteenth-century wing, richly carved, is added
to an old fortress; or the past is altogether extinguished
in the sumptuous grace of the present.
Every one of them evokes visions. From the gates of
Blois and Chaumont there wind cavalcades, riding forth to
the hunt in the forest: the ladies on their jewelled horses,
some of them astride, dressed in green and scarlet and
little caps with plumes—the men in the slashes and diamonds
and golden taffeta of their day; or—when Chivalry was
revived for a Court game—in the suits of ancient knights,
well versed in Provencal ceremonies of the Courts of Love.
They are probably singing Marot’s fashionable Psalms set
to popular tunes, as they amble along after the King, fol-
lowed by a city of silken tents.
Oi’ it is the moonlight wedding of the Duke of Urbino
at Amboise, “ qui fut merveilleusement triomphante .... et
fut danse et balle le possible.” Seventy-two damsels, dis-
guised like Germans and Italians, accompany the minstrels
with tambourines; torches make a light as bright as day;
princes and peers are the dancers. The Pavane is the
measure they are treading, and they hold the hands
of laughing ladies whose dresses are stiff with gems: whose
manners are the strangest mixture of royal etiquette
and reckless easiness. They dance till morning—they
are never tired. All day they amuse themselves by watch-
ing from their marble balcony the siege of the mock city
that was built for the occasion; or by commenting on the
skill and prowess with which the Jeunesse doree (Francois, Due