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A painter’s shop, a flowery meadow—nothing in nature’s storehouse offers so lovely a sight as a young maid, “a girl of marriageable age,” a novitsa or Venetian bride looking for a husband, or the young man who courts her. Their looks are studied, their walk studied; clothes, gestures, actions—all studied. Every grace and elegance in the world is in her face.
On must go their best robes, ribbons, chains, jewels, fine linens, laces and spangles: “they pursue elegance beyond what their means allow.” Suddenly they become excessively fastidious, particular and painstaking. Their whole concern, their whole business, is to wear their clothes neatly, look polished and trim, and display themselves to advantage. No sooner does a young man see his sweetheart coming than he tidies himself up: pulls up the cloak that has slipped about his shoulders, ties his garters and fastening cords, adjusts his collar and cuffs, smooths his hair, twists his beard, and so on. When Mercury was about to appear before his mistress,
He arranges his cloak so that it hangs becomingly, And its border and all its gold are displayed.
He sets his cloak in order, so the lace, The hem and gold-work all may show their grace.
Salmacis would not let Hermaphroditus see her until she had first made herself smart.
Yet, eager though she was to approach him, she did not go Until she had arranged herself, inspected her clothes, And composed her face, deserving to be thought beautiful.
Nor did she come, although she longed to go, Till she arranged herself and dressed with care, And set her looks to win his admiration.
Venus had so arranged matters that, when her son Aeneas was to appear before Queen Dido, he was
Like a god in face and shoulders—for his mother herself Had breathed upon her son lovely hair, the radiant Glow of youth, and joyful splendour in his eyes.
Like a god: she herself acted as his dresser, adorning him with every natural and artificial device of deception. So Mother Mamaea did for her son Heliogabalus, newly chosen emperor, when he was first to appear before the people.
When the shaggy Cyclops Polyphemus courted Galatea,
Now you care for your looks, now you care to please; Now, Polyphemus, you comb your stiff hair with a rake; Now you like to cut back your shaggy beard with a sickle, And study and compose your savage features in the water.
And then he began to dress himself up, To please, to comb his hair and shave his beard, To view his face in water as a mirror, And arrange himself to look splendid.
Suddenly he was smart and sharp as a freshly ground hatchet. Now he began to think well of his own looks and fine qualities, and to act the gallant.
Come now, Galatea, and do not despise my gifts. I certainly know myself: lately I saw my reflection In clear water, and was pleased with my looks as I gazed.
Come now, my Galatea, do not scorn me Or my poor gifts; for only yesterday I saw myself in water, and I thought Myself quite handsome. Do not scorn me, then.
I am not so ugly: lately I saw myself on the shore, When the sea lay calm, undisturbed by winds.
It is the common habit of all suitors to dress themselves up and spend extravagantly on clothes: “washed clean,” neat, combed and curled, their hair powdered, “groomed and curled with an iron,” with a long lovelock, a flower in the ear, scented gloves, rings, scarves, feathers, fastening cords and so forth—as if each were a prince’s Ganymede, wearing new suits every day as fashion changes, and walking as though he were treading on eggs.
And, as Heinsius wrote to Primierus, “Once he is infatuated with a girl, he must lie awake at night, give up his books, sigh and lament, sometimes weep over his hard luck, and above all observe what hats, collars, doublets and breeches are in fashion; how to trim his beard and wear his lovelock, turn up his moustaches and curl his hair, shape his pointed beard—or, if he wears it spread out, ensure that the east side matches the west.”
Otherwise he may be mocked, as Julian, the apostate emperor, was for wearing a long, shaggy, goat-like beard, fit for making ropes. In his Misopogon, the speech he made at Antioch in his own defence, he ironically admits that it hindered his kissing, “for it prevented me from pressing smooth lips to smooth lips, all the sweeter for their smoothness.” But he did not greatly care, as the following words show: “I do not trouble myself about receiving or giving kisses.” Yet, to follow my author, this may matter a great deal to a young lover. He must be more attentive in this respect, and on good terms with an excellent tailor and barber:
A young barber, but so skilled That Nero’s chambers never had his equal.
He must have neat shoe-ties, fastening cords and garters; speak with studied precision, walk with studied precision, eat and drink with studied precision—and, most essential of all, be mad with studied precision.
Among the other accomplishments with which an amorous fellow is endowed, he must learn to sing and dance and play some instrument—as he certainly will if he has truly felt the attraction of this magnet of love. For, as Erasmus puts it, “Love teaches music and poetry.” Love will make them musicians, make them compose ditties, madrigals, elegies and love sonnets, and sing them to various pretty tunes, acquiring every accomplishment they can.
Jupiter could tell that Mercury was in love with Philologia because he learned languages, polished speech—for Persuasion herself was Venus’s daughter, according to some writers—the arts and sciences, “to please the maiden”: all to win his mistress’s favour and delight her. Their chief concern is to sing and dance; and certainly so many gentlemen and gentlewomen would not be so accomplished in these things if love did not spur them on.